#remember how he was barely twenty years old at the oldest?

[realityhelixcreates]

Even reborn, Narci had issues.

Narci basically WAS issues.

Artist: @miasmacaron​

[vi-tamine]

Heyyyyy!!!

If you are up for it, I'd love to see you write a Silco x Reader Story🙏🏻

Reader was like an older Sibling to Powder, Vi, Mylo and Clagger, making sure the kids were always okay. So that day, when almost everyone died and Silco took in Powder/Jinx, Reader went with them to keep an eye on Jinx. They turn more into a Parental Figure over time for her. Reader and Silco hated each other at first but tried to remain civil for Jinx. Over time feelings developed and both are in denial. So basically Enemies to Lovers.

Also Reader takes care of like the Bar, since they have already worked there when Vander was still alive. [Either behind the counter as a Bartender or as like Security]

Idc if its Fluffy or Angsty or smutty or smth!

I just need more Silco x Reader🙏🏻😭

at home (silco x reader)

words: 1517

genre(s): fluff, angst (i think..)

warnings: none

n/a: im sooo happy!!! thank u so much for requesting me!! this is my first request and i'm kinda nervous about it! i hope you like it and enjoy it a little!! i did my best!! want to remember that english isn't my first language, so im sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes, but this also helps me to improve :]

You were twenty years old when it all happened. When Mylo and Claggor died and Vi ran away after all the tragedy trying to rescue Vander from Silco's hands. You were the oldest of the three sisters, always under your care, even though you allowed them some freedom for their “missions” you always kept an eye on your sisters, in case it was necessary to get them out of some trouble. 

That day, you went to help your brothers get Vander back, making Powder promise not to move from the basement. When the whole mess happened, you were barely aware of whatever was going on. One of your arms had been trapped under the rubble and you heard Powder's distant cries for Vi to come back for her. As best you could, you pulled yourself together, pushed away the debris over your arm and made your way to find the youngest of your sisters, the one that sounded closest. The crying seemed to be weaker, and when you looked up Silco had his arms around her as she hugged him, right next to Vander's lifeless body. You approached cautiously, brow furrowed at the whole unfamiliar situation. 

“Stay away from her” you addressed Silco with a firm voice and furrowed brows. He did so without complaint, looking at you, keeping his composure and probably waiting for a move on your part that never came.  Powder turned to look at you, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She hugged your legs, and before you knew it, you were both leaving with Silco and his people. 

Seven years later you decided to take Vander's place in “The Last Drop”. Silco “signed it over” to you while he took one of the rooms to be his office. You were a little grateful that he would let you carry on the legacy of the one he once considered his brother. 

You poured one last drink before Jinx sat down on one of the stools and rolled your eyes as you watched her turn in on herself. “Get your feet off the stool if you're going to be sitting here” you scolded her as you cleaned one of the glasses and poured her the juice she always asked for. “Thank you~” she thanked taking a sip from the straw. “I've been working on one of those grenades I showed you, and even though it explodes poorly, it's getting more and more powerful!” she explained somewhat excitedly as she looked at you with a slight smile. During all these years your sister had grown more than you would have liked. Sometimes nostalgia hit you, and all you could think about was how much older she had gotten and how rebellious and uncontrollable she had become.

 Mylo and Claggor's death and Vi's abandonment left some aftereffects on your sister. Jinx was the name she had decided to adopt after Vi called her that name before abandoning her to her fate without even knowing if you were alive. Together with Silco you had raised her, and although you always tried to take her on a healthy and untroubled path, she ended up paying more attention to Silco than to you. 

During all these years your vision of Silco was changing, and all the resentment and anger you had towards him, had been loosening when you saw the love and effort he put in wanting to take care of your sister. Your attitude towards him became more passive, and his attitude towards you became sweeter and more protective. You both had your sister, Jinx, as your priority. 

“Be careful with those gadgets or someday your finger will explode.” you joked with your sister as you leaned your elbows on the bar to look at her. “I do know how to build inventions, sis, not like you” she joked with you before getting a tap on her shoulder from you. You rolled your eyes letting out a light chuckle. “By the way, Silco wants to see you” he spoke as he rubbed his shoulder with a pout. You frowned and sighed. “You take care of the drinks for a while then” you stepped out from behind the bar, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Jinx hopped over the bar to tend to the customers and scolded her for it before walking up to Silco's office.

You felt your heart beating stronger and stronger as you got closer to Silco's office. Since a few days ago your vision of the man who had given (somehow) shelter to you and your sister, apart from starting to respect him, perhaps your feelings towards him had taken a different direction, a more romantic one. Every night you told yourself that it was wrong, if you thought about it, it was against your morals and principles to like Silco, so you tried to hold back that feeling as much as you could. 

You knocked on the door, and after hearing a low “Come in”, you entered the room, allowing you to see Silco in his chair as usual and Sevika next to him. They both looked at you, and with a slight gesture, Silco had Sevika leave the room, closing the door behind her. You sat down in the chair in front of the table, sighing and making yourself comfortable as you noticed how her gaze was fixed on you. 

“What is it this time, what has Jinx done to what-” you couldn't finish formulating the sentence Silco cut you off. “Your sister is out of jail” your back and your whole body started to bristle. “With the help of a Piltover enforcer.” You discovered that Vi had been arrested and sent to Stillwater. Seven years later she seemed to have gotten out. A confused feeling invaded your body. You were happy, your sister had been released. And at the same time you were filled with rage, she had abandoned you and your sister. Then came the feeling of guilt, you were the oldest, much older than them, and you had let your sister be arrested, you had not fought for her. You swallowed and immediately got up from the couch. “Don't let Jinx know. Not yet, at least.” you left the room without even looking or listening to what Silco would have to tell you.

. . . . . . 

Later that night, having just closed the bar and with only the music to keep you company, you finished putting the last chairs back on the tables and mopping the floor. Before you even went to sleep you decided to pour yourself a shot of whiskey. You sat on the freshly cleaned bar and, with your mother's favorite song playing in the background, you thought about everything. Your parents, your sisters, brothers, Vander, Silco, everything. The alcohol scratched your throat as you thought about how you were going to confront Vi at some point, what you would say to her, how she would be, how she would react to seeing who you were with. Maybe she would understand you if she realized you were doing it all for Jinx. Maybe she would martyr you if she knew about your feelings for Silco. 

“May I have some?” a voice from behind you shuddered. Turning slightly to grab a glass, you saw Silco planted behind you. You nodded wordlessly, pouring for him as well and watching as he took a long sip. He looked back at you. “Why the long face?” he asked. You laughed wryly. “As if you didn't know” you replied clicking your tongue. You didn't want to talk down to him, but your feelings at that moment were what they were. He seemed to understand, he didn't add a word.

 He set the glass down on the bar and one of your hands rested on your shoulder, lightly trailing down your arm. “She's going to understand.” he simply said. You shook your head, also dropping the glass and looking sideways at him. “She's not going to understand. She can't. I don't blame her. I'm a horrible sister.” you sighed. You felt like your eyes were going to release tears at any moment. You noticed Silco's rough hand touch yours, embrace yours with his fingers and with his thumb caress the back of your hand. You let yourself be touched. “We should have left, Silco. We don't belong here. It's not our place. I should have taken Pow-” you couldn't finish your sentence Silco had crashed his lips to yours. You couldn't even react when he broke away. You looked at him still dumbfounded. 

“If she doesn't understand, we're going to make her understand. But don't you ever, ever, ever say again that you don't belong here. You do. You belong by my side,” and when he finished speaking you couldn't help but kiss his lips back. Your heart had just exploded like a bomb, and Silco had detonated it. There were probably going to be repercussions, surely none of this was going to go well, but for the first time, when you were dancing in his arms, you felt at home again.

[sillylotrpolls]

(Credit and a truly absurd amount of context below the poll in case you don't know who the Old Took is.)

Today's poll looks at a question posed by @sindar-princeling:

Bilbo barely passed Old Took's record lifespan after having a supernaturally-life-extending ring for 60 years. which begs a question. what the hell did Old Took do

In the notes on that post, the most popular theory by far was espoused by @mitsuhachiinthehive, who posited that Gandalf hooked up with a hobbit at some point and [some of] the Tooks are his descendants. This idea was further spread thanks to @the-haiku-bot.

Additional theories which I cribbed for poll options:

The diamond cufflinks were magical in more ways than one @elodieunderglass

He drank an ent-draught courtesy of the missing ent wives @betterofflost

He got hold of a random magic elven ring @morgulscribe

If you would like some a lot of context from canon so you can decide for yourself, more information about the Old Took is beneath the cut.

First off, it's established multiple times in the books what a big deal it was for Bilbo to beat Old Took's record. From The Return of the King:

He opened his eyes and looked up as they came in. 'Hullo, hullo!' he said. 'So you've come back? And tomorrow's my birthday, too. How clever of you! Do you know, I shall be one hundred and twenty-nine? And in one year more, if I am spared, I shall equal the Old Took. I should like to beat him; but we shall see.' [...] Little Elanor was nearly six months old, and 1421 had passed to its autumn, when Frodo called Sam into the study. 'It will be Bilbo's Birthday on Thursday, Sam,' he said. 'And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!' 'So he will!' said Sam. 'He's a marvel!'

Here's a biography on the old hobbit from Tolkien Gateway:

After the death of his father in 1248, Gerontius became the twenty-sixth Thain of the Shire. He was a friend of Gandalf, who gave him a pair of magic diamond studs and performed firework tricks during Gerontius' midsummer-eve parties. Gerontius Took reached the impressive age of 130, which made him the oldest Hobbit until his grandson Bilbo Baggins celebrated his 131st Birthday. He also held the record of most offspring, until Samwise Gamgee bested him with Tom's birth in S.R. 1442.

And from Tolkien Gateway's page on the Took Family:

Tooks were mainly of Fallohide Hobbit stock, and had quite a reputation for unusual behavior (among other things being more adventurous than the other Hobbits), a quality not valued in the Shire. For this they would be seen as less respectable, but those traits were "tolerated" thanks to their large numbers and wealth. An absurd legend among other families, was that one of the Took ancestors married a fairy. The Wizard Gandalf was a known, if disreputable, associate.

Here we have Gandalf introducing himself to Bilbo in The Hobbit. Note that Belladonna Took is one of the Old Took's 12 (!!) children.

“Yes, yes, my dear sir—and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don’t remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!” “Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows’ sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. “Dear me!” he went on. “Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures? Anything from climbing trees to visiting elves—or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter—I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business.” “Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, and that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grandfather Took’s sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.”

And for context, Sam was 102 when he sailed West, Merry was at least 103 and almost certainly older when he died, and Pippin at least 95. The uncertainty is because Tolkien describes their last years thus in the Appendices:

1484 In the spring of the year a message came from Rohan to Buckland that King Éomer wished to see Master Holdwine once again. Meriadoc was then old (102) but still hale. He took counsel with his friend the Thain [Pippin], and soon after they handed over their goods and offices to their sons and rode away over the Sam Ford, and they were not seen again in the Shire. It was heard after that Master Meriadoc came to Edoras and was with King Éomer before he died in that autumn. Then he and Thain Peregrin went to Gondor and passed what short years were left to them in that realm, until they died and were laid in Rath Dínen among the great of Gondor. 1541 In this year on March 1st came at last the Passing of King Elessar. It is said that the beds of Meriadoc and Peregrin were set beside the bed of the great king. Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in the Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (27) Jealousy

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter27)

Summary: Rosie and Timothy travel the Greek islands. An intriguing experience on Santorini, puzzles and irks Rosie immensely. When Timothy doesn't react to her liking, there's only one option on how to move forward.

Twenty-Seven Years Old

To celebrate my birthday and my new fulltime job as a political risk analyst, Timothy and I went island-hopping in Greece. Liwia and her girlfriend had done it last year, and it appealed to us both. Having nothing but the flights planned, made me feel a bit reckless but it was quite freeing as well.

The only thing we’d decided on was to stick to the Cyclades and we started our journey by taking a ferry to the small island Antiparos. Several people who let out rooms stood waiting on the quay as we disembarked. An elderly and friendly looking man caught our attention, and the room he had to offer was more than sufficient.

Our first breakfast is one I’ll remember forever. The small restaurant was situated by the seafront where the fishing boats came in with their catch. Faded coloured fishing nets hung to dry in the sun, the scent of salt weaving its way to our nostrils.

Freshly pressed orange juice and the fluffiest omelette I’d ever come across, ensured the perfect start of our day.

We hired a moped to explore a little. The trip took us through a landscape of olive trees and flowers we didn’t have in the UK. Our destination was the famous cave with stalagmites and stalactites. The stalagmite at the entrance is apparently 45 million years old, the oldest in Europe. 

We were warm and a bit sweaty after standing out in the sun, while we waited for our guide. The air inside was pleasantly chill and got even colder as we descended the 411 steps to the heart of the cave. It was a mesmerising sight, and knowing that this was the nature’s own doing, left me amazed and humble.

At a cosy taverna we ate the best Greek salad to date. The ripe tomatoes paired with the salty feta cheese, olives, onions, the rich olive oil and the homemade bread, almost made me religious for a moment.

The beach close to our quarters, was small, secluded and blessedly free of crowds. We had taken a boat to a famous beach the day before, but we’d barely found a free space to lay down our blankets, so this felt like paradise in comparison. 

Another short boat ride away was the bigger island Paros. We took the bus to the other side of the island. I don’t remember anything else from that trip than the hours we spent in Naoussa. Several boats painted in bright colours lay bobbing in the water close to the restaurants that encircled the bay. It may sound simple, but it was the most beautiful view, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. We sat there for hours, eating seafood and drinking Greek white wine. 

***

So far, it had been a “normal” vacation, or tedious as Papa would’ve called it. That all ended when we sat foot on Santorini. Getting a room was easy enough, and relieved of our heavy rucksacks we went for a stroll in the main street of Fira. Every other shop was a jewellery shop, and the necklaces displayed bore the resemblance to what pharaohs and Cleopatra wore. Heavy, massive and ridiculously expensive. For each shop they seemed to grow bigger and uglier. We had quite a laugh at that.

The most peculiar thing happened at the restaurant we had lunch. It was a terrace with a breathtaking view over the Aegean Sea. We’d decided to stay for a while and ordered more iced tea, making ourselves comfortable under the big parasol. We had both brought a book, and for a while we read in silence. A repetitive sound of paper being ripped, caught my attention.

An elderly woman had taken up residence at the table next to ours. She had short frizzy hair, more grey than brown now, her glasses were round with a white frame. The summer dress she wore had big patterns in green, red, white, and orange. On her feet were white flip-flops. 

“Stop staring,” Timothy whispered.

He startled me and I looked annoyed at him, but averted my eyes and took a sip of my drink. The moment the sound of ripped paper reached my ears again, my eyes were drawn to the spectacle at the other table.

The woman read a book too. A paperback. The curious thing I almost couldn’t fathom, was that whenever she finished a page, she ripped it out and placed it in a pile under her plate. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? What if you needed to go back some pages to look up something you’ve missed. It could never be read by another person, since she apparently left pages wherever she sat down to read. It bore no logic, and it irked me.

“Aren’t you curious about why she does it?” I whispered to Timothy.

“Not particularly. My book is far too interesting, and you won’t get an answer unless you ask her, and I guess you aren’t inclined to do that,” was his phlegmatic answer.

Timothy’s ability to turn off the world and disappear into his reading or writing, was admirable, but now it almost made me jealous of his book. I wanted to speculate with someone, solve this odd conundrum. There would be no more reading on my part after this, so I took out my phone instead.

Want to solve a mystery for me?

Pray tell! I’m bored to death and about to shoot the wall. P

Also available on AO3

Friendly warning: after 25 years the mystery is still unsolved. Don’t be shy about suggesting what the meaning of this appalling behaviour could be 🤭

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[tashacee]

I had a thought while reading the clock town murders fic, what if only 10 years had passed for Time since he last saw Warriors instead of 20?

So Time is in his mid twenties and around the same age as the other older members of the chain not the oldest?

Okay so not set in the Clocktown Mystery but I… wrote a thing

The Long Lost Brother

When wars was first reunited with his little brother, he didn’t recognise him. Mask had been a short, angry ten year old when they last met after all. This gangly man was well over six feet tall, with long hair in a braid down his back and was skinny as a rail despite eating twice his body weight in food every meal.

But… there was something about him. Yes, this man - still a boy, really, barely twenty - was tall and quiet. But there was something about those tattoos on his face that were horribly familiar. Something about his sullen silence that just… reminded him of something.

And then there was how he stared at Warriors. Like he recognised him. Like he knew who he was. He definitely looked familiar but… Mask had been a child. Hadn’t he? And surely if it was Mask, then he’d have said. Right? Sure the kid had been prone to moods, but he’d surely have greeted Wind and him.

It took a week for it all to come out. Time had been watching him and Warriors watched the man watch him until finally he decided that enough was enough. Time was Mask. He was sure of it. The marks were too familiar, he even had the small scars on his cheeks where he used to claw out of his masks.

So one quiet evening when they were relaxing by the fire, Warriors asked him if he wanted to take a walk and talk.

So they walked. Not so much the talking part, but they walked. Time was far taller than Warriors but he seemed to have shrunk in on himself, even quieter than usual. Warriors knew that he should say something but he couldn’t figure out what to say.

Then, finally, Time spoke.

“You-“ his voice was deep and rumbling, a far cry from the child Wars was used to. “You… remember me. Don’t you?”

Warriors stopped in his tracks and stared. Was… that why he hadn’t said anything? He thought Warriors had forgotten? His own brother?

He shook his head.

“Mask.” He croaked, his mouth dry. “I could never forget you. It took me a while to- but you’re so much older but- oh Mask, I never forgot you. Never!” Hylia, he wanted to hug him, but Time still hadn’t come any closer.

But Time finally offered a small smile. He ducked his head, looking away. “I… I wasn’t sure. People forget things but… I’m glad.”

Things were a bit easier after that. Warriors was unbelievably happy to finally have his brother back and Wind was over the moon. They both tried to get Time to open up about his life since the war, but he was as tight lipped as he had been as a child.

Warriors was worried. Yes, he was less angry than he’d been as a child, but he was less… everything. He barely spoke. He kept closed off. When the rest of the chain sat and chatted and joked he often sat silent, listening but not joining in. And everyone noticed. They all tried to draw him into conversation and sometimes it worked, but more often than not he gave a short answer and fell silent once again.

But… it was getting better.

Week by week, Time seemed to relax into their company. He opened up more. He talked. He let Wind climb all over him and he even sometimes initiated conversations.

Still Warriors worried. He worried what his brother’s life was like in his own era, if he had any support, was he on his own.

He worried right up until one evening Time came up and sat beside him, jittering with nerves. They’d spent the day in a town, shopping in the market and having a well earned break. They’d even splashed out on rooms in an inn, and Warriors was sitting in the tavern downstairs when his brother approached him.

And oh, he was clearly nervous. Warriors felt a surge of concern as he looked at his brother, white faced and picking at the skin around his fingernails and -

But he shouldn’t have been. Because Time had come to ask for advice, yes, but possibly for the best thing he could have said.

Because after all those weeks of worry, after how much Warriors had lain awake at night wondering if his brother was okay in his own era, it turned out he shouldn’t have been concerned.

Because Time had a girl back home. He had a girl and was living on her ranch and that day in town he had gone to a jeweller and bought a frankly absurd ring.

He wanted advice on how to propose.

Warriors couldn’t have been happier. When he got Time talking, it became clear that he adored this Malon and it sounded like she was good for him too. She sounded calm and cheerful and positive and Warriors wanted nothing more than to meet this woman who made his brother happy.

The two of them talked all night, and after that, Warriors worried less. His brother was going to be okay, he was sure. Everything would be alright.

-

Months later, when their journey was over, it was Warriors’ proudest moment to stand with Wind as groomsmen at Time and Malon’s wedding. The rest of the Chain were in attendance, teary eyed and grinning, and he had never seen Mask happier in his life.

He was right- everything was going to be alright.

[abbatoirablaze]

Behind Closed Doors, Chapter 9

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: soft fluff, little bit of sexual tension/teasing. 

“Momma…momma.  I see?” Johnny asked as he tried to crawl up onto the hospital bed.  Your laugh kissed the air as you watched your two-year-old trying to pull himself up onto the bed, “Momma!”

“I see baby?” Shayla asked curiously from beside her brother, her eyes barely peeking over the thin blanket, “we see?”

“Momma, up?” Johnny asked sadly when he realized that he couldn’t get up on his own, “Up!”

“UP!” Shayla joined in, hopping up and down.

“Guys, mommy can’t pick you up,” Sebastian chuckled as he smoothed out their hair, “not right now.  She’s holding baby Jack…we have to be patient and wait our turns.”

“If you want, you can hold him, daddy,” you cooed, looking up from your newest addition to your boyfriend, “what do you think, guys?  Should mommy give daddy to baby Jack for a bit, and he can sit down so that you can see him?”

“YEAH!” Shayla yelled. 

Jack’s bright blue eyes shifted nervously, and his bottom lip warbled.

“Awww, Jack, it’s okay baby boy…that’s your big sister, Shay…she’s just excited!” you cooed as you smoothed down the little tufts of hair at the top of his head.

“Shayla, you guys have to be calm…babies scare easily!”

“No worry baby Jack.  I protec’ you!” Johnny proclaimed proudly, his little hand reaching up onto the bed and barely touching your thigh. 

You felt yourself swooning at the sweetness from your oldest, “Johnny…”

“He baby!” Johnny said firmly, before gesturing to himself and his twin, “we protec’ the baby.”

“You sure you’re okay with me holding him?” Sebastian asked as he bit his lip.

“You deserve to hold your son, Mr. Stan,” you smiled, “I think you’ve been exceptionally patient about it.”

He smiled, lighting up as he reached for his son.  You leaned forward and passed him off.  Sebastian looked like he was going to cry as he cradled him in his arms, wonder filling his eyes, “He’s so small…”

“He’s perfect!” you reminded him, “and he wasn’t small.  Baby Stan was eight pounds, two ounces and twenty two inches long.  That’s big for a baby…I mean the twins were only five or so pounds each, and seventeen inches long…”

“They were also born a month and a half early!” he reminded you as he sat down, and Shayla and Johnny gathered around him. 

Your heart lurched in your chest as you watched Sebastian with the kids.  He had always been loving towards Shayla and Johnny, and you could see the same love in his eyes for Jack.  You were glad to know that there wasn’t any change in his actions just because he now had a biological child of his own.

But you frowned as you thought about Shay and Johnny’s birth.

Chris wasn’t like that. 

He loved them, yes, but the look in his eyes was different than the one that you witnessed with Sebastian.  You’d remembered how he seemed almost lost when he looked at them.

“Momma?”

You were broken from your thoughts when you saw Johnny back at your side, tapping the bed because he couldn’t reach your leg.

“What is it baby bear?” you asked softly, “don’t you wanna see your new little brother with daddy and Shayla?”

“Uppies?”

You sighed as you leaned forward, ignoring the pain in your lower stomach, “can you help momma and jump when she tells you?  I ca-“

“Hey, hey…you shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting.  I can put him up there!” Sebastian offered, eyes widening as you lifted Johnny onto the bed and he immediately crawled into your side, “baby…you just had Jack.  You shouldn’t be-“

“I’m fine,” you sighed, smoothing down Johnny’s hair, “if I’m being honest, I’m kinda sad that he’s out here…I-I kind of feel empty.  I need another one of my babies to snuggle me and tell me it’s okay.”

He gave you a sympathetic look, “baby-“

“I-it sounds worse than what I mean…I just-I got so used to carrying him around…and it’s weird not feeling his little kicks and shifts in my stomach…I felt the same way when I gave birth to Shayla and Johnny…I guess it’s just postpartum…but I really liked it when I-never mind.  It sounds really silly to say aloud.”

A blush rose to your boyfriend’s cheeks, “are you saying you like being pregnant, (Y/N)?”

“No more baby in tummy?” Johnny asked as he gently put a hand on your stomach. 

You nodded, unable to stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, “no baby in momma’s tummy anymore…Jack is in daddy’s arms, remember?”

He seemed concerned as he looked up at your face, his little hands slipping from your stomach up to your neck, “no cry momma…”

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah…just a little blues…I-I really do enjoy being pregnant…this part…not as much…it’s like my first little taste of our baby leaving their first nest…” you replied, looking to him once more, “god I’m going to be a mess when they get older and want to really spread their wings.”

“I no get older, momma!” Johnny proclaimed lovingly, “I be momma’s baby forever!”

“Aww thank you baby bear!” you smiled, “you’ll always be mommy’s baby.”

“Momma?” Shayla asked, appearing at your bedside once more, “I uppies?”

“Sebastian?” you sniffled, looking at your boyfriend, “since you don’t want me lifting the kids?”

He nodded and placed Jack in the little baby crib beside the bed, before picking Shayla up and putting her on the hospital bed as well.  She immediately went to your other side and snuggled into you, “love you momma.”

“Love you too baby!” you sighed, kissing the top of her head. 

“I love momma!”

“I love you too, Johnny,” you laughed, looking at your little momma’s boy, “but we all love daddy, right?  And baby Jack…”

“LOVE DADDY!”

“LOVE JACK!”

“I love you guys too…” he mused.  Sebastian smiled even more, chuckling at the twin’s continued proclamation of their love for him.  You watched him intimately once more as his hand rimmed the crib, before sliding into his pocket, “hey baby?”

“Hmm?”

“I uh, I’ve been thinking about this…and-well, if I’m being honest, I bought it the day I drove out to you in California…” he said slowly, pulling a little black box from his pocket.  You gasped, your eyes immediately watering once more as you realized what he was doing.

“Sebastian…”

“(Y/N)-“

“Sebastian, stop,” you begged, cutting him off as he opened the box and your eyes met that of a gorgeous, glistening ring, “oh my god…”

“I’m not going to do what Chris did, (Y/N)…I-I’m not him,” he began as he dropped down to one knee, “and I’d understand if you said no, because I know what must be going through your head right now…all the worry and nerves, but I want to show you that I’m here for you through it all. I love you so much.  I love you more than anything…I know that Johnny and Shayla aren’t mine, but I don’t care…because they are…and now we have Jack too…and I just-“

“I’m afraid,” you admitted softly, “Sebastian…I-Chris nearly ruined me, and I-“

“I’ll wait as long as you want me to…if it takes our whole lives, I’ll do it, just-being your fiancé….but I want you to know that I’m committed to us.  To our future…”

“Momma?”

“What’s g’on?”

“(Y/F/N, Y/L/N) will you eventually marry me, and become (Y/F/N) Stan?”

“Fuck…”

Your brows rose as your fiancé held his phone out, “I uh-I just got the call…”

“Call….what call?” You asked slowly, trying to think about what he could be talking about.  He let it set in for a second and your eyes widened as you realized what he was saying, “OH!  OH!  Well?  What happened?”

“I got it,” he smiled softly, “Baby…I’m going to be Bucky Barnes…the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh my god, Sebastian!” you smiled, running towards him, “that’s amazing news.  That-oh my god!”

“Ther-there’s just one thing.”

You frowned, feeling the uneasiness in his voice, “what’s wrong?”

“Chris…” he admitted slowly, “he-he uh, got the role of Captain America…”

“Chris…”

“Yeah…”

“As in, my ex, Chris?  Chris Evans?” you asked.  Sebastian nodded, and your smile dropped, “Shit…”

“I-I think I’m going to turn it down,” he nodded, biting his lip, “I-“

“What?” you asked, cutting him off, “NO.  Sebastian, why would you do that?” 

“Because of Chri-“

“NO!” you said quickly, shushing him, “you’re not going to throw away an opportunity like this because you don’t want to be around Chris or because of me, or whatever excuse you’re thinking of doing right now.  Sebastian, this is an amazing opportunity.”

“I know, I jus-“

“You’re doing it!” you said gently as you pressed a kiss to his lips, “you’re going to be Bucky Barnes.”

“T-that’s really alright with you?”

“Hey…this is your career,” you said pointedly, “and I’m not letting you back out of a role because of me…hell, if it wasn’t for those casting parties…we wouldn’t have our little family…”

He smiled, nodding along, “I mean…I do owe Marvel a lot already…I got you…the twins…Jack…”

“Exactly!” you nodded back, “and you’re going to kick ass!”

“Since you’re okay with it…I guess I should tell you…the rollout plan for it…Captain America is phase one…but this role…if everything goes well…baby they want me for at least five films.”

“FIVE?  Oh, that’s it…we’re so celebrating!” you giggled, pushing your fiancé back until his back hit the wall.  He lit up, a cheshire catted grin taking over on his face, as his hands slipped up your hips. He licked his lips.

“I think I like where this is going!”

“Yeah…” you smiled, kissing him softly and slowly, “think you like it now…just wait until after the kids are bathed and in bed…”

“Well, I’ve already got Jack bathed and put to sleep…” he smirked as your hand snaked down his chest and to his pants.  His eyes fluttered shut as you stroked him over the sleep pants, “fuck…(Y/N)…”

“MOMMA!”

Sebastian jumped, his eyes shooting open as your eldest child yelled from down the hall. 

“DADDY BAFF TIME!” Shayla yelled as Johnny came running naked down the hall and into the kitchen. 

You pressed a kiss to your fiancé’s lips and gave him a sad smile, “to be continued…”

“Oh, you just wait until the kids are in bed!” he smirked, hungrily licking his lips once more as you chased after your son, “I’ll clean up dinner if you want to get them bathed…tuck em in together?”

You nodded, agreeing with him as you caught your squirming son.  He giggled maniacally as you went back to Sebastian and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, “and then I’ll tuck you in after, daddy.”

“Can’t wait, mommy!”

Chapter 10

[colorfulandblack]

Ok, serious question time gang

Sean is the youngest of the circle members right?

I mean Auntie Bee is the oldest of them that's a fact. And at first I though that maybe Nathaniel was second when it came to age because he was a lieutenant but then I remembered that because he came from money it's pretty certain that he had this position bought so it doesn't mean necessary that he'd be old or older.

However, I cannot imagine putting an somewhat barely an adult in charge, back in the day of the beginnings of the war. Or during the war. I think that when he enlisted he was an adult at least meaning he was over 18.

It is possible that Dr Jean is second in age since she is a doctor and I imagine she graduated university and her studies and if the wold of Newfaire is at least a little like the 1900 then she must have been 18 when she graduated if not older and then she had some practice. She did mention that she either learned or rather put her learned skills to use during the war in the trenches.

Those facts would put both Nathaniel and Jean in their early 30 I'd say? Or just turned 30? Also, their character are just much more authoritative which may came from their position in society and profession but it just fits that sort of age. We know that Nathaniel was younger sibling but we do not know how much younger he was from his brother that drowned so that doesn't give us much perspective.

Then Marion. He said that he tagged along with Sean and his brothers Tony and Jimmy all the time. That would put them similar in age. That being said through I'm almost certain that Sean was the youngest of the siblings and we know for a fact that he enlisted illegally when he was 16. I'm assuming and knowing his character he did so because his brothers also enlisted. Which leads me to think that maybe Marion was closer in age to Sean's siblings even if it were by 2 or 3 years because he just doesn't strike me as a person that would enlisted illegally. Unless if course he saw Sean doing a big stupid and decided that someone has to keep an eye on him.

But even if they all (except for Auntie Bee) were of similar age there could be 2-3 or more age gaps between them. And we know, we KNOW for a fact that Sean enlisted ILLEGALLY.

Also, this is a shot in the dark but notice how Auntie Bee sort of feels like a motherly figure to Sean. She said that she promised his mother to keep an eye on him. If Sean and Marion has been friends from young age and if Auntie Bee knew Sean from way before the Candela can means two things. One, which is quite reasonable, that she doesn't feel that Marion needs as much protection and attention because he's more reasonable of the two (although very protective of Auntie Bee, the amount of bleed he took for her and she does treat him almost like a son) or TWO, she did made a promise to Sean's mother to keep an eye on him not only because he's a impulsive idiot but also he is simply young.

Brennan said that Sean is in his mid twenties, we don't know how long was the war but if it is based on Great War that means it lasted 4 years (at least!) I'm saying at least because if Sean enlisted at the beginning that would put him at 20 and if he enlisted later he'd be even younger.

Now come to think of it I might be stupid but I though I remembered that in Chapter 1 it was said that the war lasted a decade? I'm not sure, someone let me know so I can fix it but either way that would put Sean at 26.

So yeah, unless we know more in my mind Sean is the youngest of the Needle and the Thread.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye "Ma" Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter Six: A Tale of Two Cousins

Pete drove Willis to the post office after he finished cooking, and Willis sat in the car, wringing his hands. “Are you alright?” Pete asked. 

“No, but I’ll get there. How’s Lissy?” Willis questioned in reply. Their exchange softened Willis. 

“Melissa’s alright. She’s got the kids. Do you remember Melissa’s oldest?” Pete questioned. 

Willis chuckled. “Yeah. I drove Melissa to the hospital with no license when she went into labor. I was scared to death… And her husband was out of town, so she made me stay with her. Twenty-six hours… Man, oh man that was terrifying,” Willis replied, “You know, Melissa was the only person other than you that ever cared about me. The time I stayed with her were some of the happiest years of my life. Melissa, Danny, and Au—.”

“She’s Amber now,” Pete whispered. 

“Oh, Amber. How’s she doin’?” Willis corrected himself.

“She’s good. Amber’s into art and books now. She uh—. She’s been asking about you a lot,” Pete replied as he stopped at the light.

Willis looked up. “Are we headed to see Lissy?” Willis questioned. 

“Not if you don’t want to. I just wanna spend some time with you,” Pete replied.

“I could… I could handle seeing Melissa today,” Willis whispered. 

**

Willis sat in the car while Pete went to the door. He looked away, frightened of what his sister would think. He chewed his bottom lip, fidgeting with his jacket. He heard footsteps in the snow and frantic knocking on the window. He turned to see a rapidly greying blonde woman with tears streaming down her smiling face. Willis half-smiled, opening the car door. He barely had time to step out before she embraced him. “Billy, how are you? You’ve still got a baby face,” Melissa whispered as she held his face. “Wow. I can’t—. I’m glad you’re here. What are you doing here?” 

“ I can’t come and see my sister? Lissy, Dad said you were worried about me… Do you—? Do you want to have dinner at my place sometime this week?” Willis whispered. She embraced him again. Willis wrapped his arms around her, smiling uncontrollably. He hadn’t seen her since he met Sheila. Melissa pinched his cheek. 

“Of course, I do. You’re here. Come in. Come in,” Melissa urged him. She dragged him toward the house, and Willis froze up. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to enter, he was afraid of what he’d see if he did. “Melissa, I—. Lissy, can we sit outside for a second?” Willis whispered. “Here, I don’t want you to get cold.” He took off his jacket and draped it over her. 

“Billy—.” 

“Come on. You know me. I never get cold,” Willis half-joked. She pulled his hat over his ears. “I have a son now… Did Dad tell you that?” 

“He didn’t. Maybe he wanted you to tell me. How old is he?” Melissa gently asked as she took Willis’ hand and looked at his tattoos. It was a tender gesture on her behalf. She was always careful with Willis, treating him like a fragile little boy. 

He didn’t mind. “My kid’s twelve… He’ll be thirteen in August,” Willis answered, “You had any kids after Amber? Dad told me about her. She’s writing now. That’s pretty cool. I’ll have to look into it. Amber Vreeland the artist. I know you’ve gotta be proud of her.” 

“She wanted to write about you. I didn’t know what to tell her. I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that,” Melissa confessed, “And yeah… After Danny died, I spiraled for a little while, but I had a few other kids. I had twins in ninety-one. Gabriel and Gavin. Gabriel’s in culinary school in Los Angeles, and Gavin’s in modeling. They’re roommates. Then, I had Olivia in nineteen-two, Sarah in ninety-four, and Dillon in ninety-seven. Amber and Dillon are at home still. Dillon’s in junior high. He’s in seventh grade. Olivia’s in school for computers and Sarah’s a ballerina at the Metropolis School of Arts.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got some pretty good kids. What junior high does Dillon go to?” Willis asked. 

Melissa answered, and Willis bellowed. “No way… Are you serious? I was getting ready to pick him up,” Melissa laughed, “Dillon doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s a little shy. His best friend is a nice boy, though.” 

“That’s alright… My son’s a little quiet, too. One of his teachers lives in my building. Ms. Cobb—.” 

“Dillon has Ms. Cobb! Are you going to the parent-teacher night?” Melissa interrupted. Willis nodded. They smiled at each other, and Willis turned away. “Why didn’t you come back to visit, Billy?” 

“Aww, Lissy—.” 

“I thought you were dead. I haven’t seen you in fourteen years,” Melissa chastised him. He rubbed his neck. “Are you doing okay at least?”

“I’m in AA and therapy. I’m staying out of trouble, and I—. Look at me, I sound like a kid—.” 

“No, you sound good. I’m proud of you. Did you leave because of what I said to you?” Melissa questioned. Willis ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want to cry in front of her. 

“Melissa, I don’t wanna talk about that. I don’t wanna—.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you—.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Willis interrupted. She shook her head. “But you told Danny?” 

“I didn’t… I couldn’t. Did you leave because you were scared I’d tell someone?” Melissa asked. She rubbed Willis’ back. “Come inside, Billy… It’s cold.” 

Willis lay his head on her shoulder. “I thought you wouldn’t want me around anymore… And then I looked at Amber, and I thought about what would happen if she turned out like me,” Willis whispered. Melissa frowned. The front door swung open. 

“Uncle Billy?” a young woman’s voice whispered. 

Willis turned around and looked at the tall blonde with brown eyes and tattoos. “Amber?” Willis asked. 

“Pappy Pete told you?” Amber questioned in reply. Willis nodded. “Well… Are you gonna give me a hug, or what?”

Willis laughed as he stood up and opened his arms. They hugged and when he pulled away, he squeezed her nose between his knuckles. “How’s it going, Chunks?” Willis grinned. She had the same gap he did. “I can’t believe you’re grown up… Did your mom ever tell you that I cut the cord when you were born?” 

“She told me you passed out after you did it,” Amber laughed, “You don’t look forty to me. I thought you’d look older.”

“Thanks, Chunks. Do you remember me at all?” Willis questioned. 

“Uncle Billy… Of course, I remember you. I couldn’t sleep without you in the house,” Amber smiled.

“I know. When you were a baby, your parents used to sneak in my room and put you on my chest, so they could get some rest. They used to say your favorite sound—.” 

“Was your heartbeat… I know. I um—. I wanted to write about you. A collection of poems and short stories,” Amber interrupted. Willis’ smile faded. 

“Do you live in town?” Amber asked. 

“I do… I live a few blocks from Restyffe Junior High,” Willis replied. 

“Dillon goes there. Mom, did you tell him about Dillon?” Amber asked. Melissa nodded, sweetly smiling at her eldest daughter. 

** 

Willis waited by the front gate as the kids poured out. Jason trudged along, half-exhausted before he caught a glimpse of Willis. He ran at full speed, and Willis caught him and swung him around. “I’ve got a few surprises for you, Kiddo,” Willis grinned. 

A boy with big glasses and green eyes stopped beside Willis and smiled at Jason. “Hey, Jason. I was in the counselor’s office … Do you have a partner for the math quiz on Friday?” the boy asked. 

“Nuh uh. We can be partners if you want,” Jason answered. “Dad, this is Dillon Weiss. Dillon, this is my dad.” 

“Dillon, is your mom’s name Melissa?” Willis asked as he set Jason down. 

Dillon scrunched his nose up to adjust his glasses. “Uh-huh. Jason knows my mom. There she is, right there,” Dillon pointed to his mom and waved. Melissa walked over. 

“Hi, Dilly. Do you know who this is?” Melissa whispered. 

“This is Jason’s dad—.”

“Jason’s your son?” Melissa asked. 

“Small world,” Willis chuckled. Jason and Dillon exchanged looks. “You two kids are cousins. Melissa’s my big sister. We have the same dad.”

Jason and Dillon lit up. “Cool,” they grinned. 

“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Billy,” Melissa chuckled as she took her son’s backpack.

[theameliaxevans]

[cisfemale, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [AMELIA EVANS]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [DIANA SILVERS]. You must be the [TWENTY-THREE] year old [STUDENT/ATTENDANT AT LUXE CRYSTAL SHOP]. Word is you’re [WITTY] but can also be a bit [SCATHING] and your favorite song is [KIWI BY HARRY STYLES]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY TOWERS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

tw: parental abuse, tw: underaged drinking, tw: underaged drug use

Amelia Rosalie Evans was the baby of her family, and an oopsie one at that. Her mother though, Ada, had wanted another daughter, so there was an excitement in the Evans household when news broke that Ada would be having a girl. And for years as a child, Amelia's life was good. Her mother was sweet and her father was a dutiful man on the Salem police force, her oldest brother was cool enough with her despite their bigger age gap, and Amelia was closest with her other brother, Wes, the two of them bonding over their love of books and music, often inseparable as they got older. That was all before though. Before Laurence had had his first traumatic night on the job. Before he became abusive. Amelia didn't even know what'd triggered it, just remembered being ten years old and sitting on the couch reading, and then hearing yelling, and then seeing her brother's blood. She never wanted to see that again--unfortunately though, that night was only the beginning.

Laurence had utterly changed after that night, and while he'd always been rather...difficult to be around, after that it'd just went downhill. He drank himself into stupors, and into anger, taking it out on his sons, but at least he never went after her. It took a long time for Amelia to realize that the reason she wasn't come after was because Wes took the brunt of it for her, to ensure that she didn't go through the same traumas he did. And to an extent, it'd worked. She didn't go through the same traumas, but she had her own. She still walked on egg shells for years, still jumped at every loud noise. She had nightmares and fears and was always terrified of it getting worse one day. That one day he'd hurt Wes too much and then he'd leave too--just like their eldest brother one day did.

It went on like that for years, and as Laurence grew more and more angry and awful of a person, the Evans siblings found ways to cope. Amelia was thirteen when she had her first beer, barely fourteen when she had her first cigarette and lost her virginity. Smoking and drinking and hooking up at random, these little escapes helped her tolerate how shitty her home life was, the slamming of fists and the screaming and how scared and angry she was that they all put up with it.

She was fifteen the only time Laurence actually left a scar on her. He'd gotten in her face before, yelling or shoving at her at times, but Wes always took the brunch of it. This time though, Laurence caught her smoking, and when she just scoffed in his face because the disdain was rich coming from him, he snatched it out of mouth and snuffed it out on her skin, the grip on her arm bruising and the alcohol wafting off his breath making her want to gag. The memory was still as prevalent in her mind as the burn scar still on her bicep, the feeling of the burning of her skin and how he held her still as she screamed echoing in her nightmares. She didn't stop smoking (or drinking) after that though, she just got better at hiding it. It went on like that for years too, with Amelia using getting drunk or getting high to get through their shitty home life while just trying to get through school, all the while still angry at their mother for not listening to their aunt Esme who was offering them a way out- to come live with her in California, in a little town called Aurora Bay. But Amelia wouldn't go without Ada and especially not without her siblings. No way. One sibling already bailed...she didn't want to follow suit.

But by the time Amelia turned seventeen, her bitterness had grown against Ada for just not leaving their piece of shit father. And all the while, it was Wes trying to convince her to leave, constantly pushing for Amelia to get out and go west and finally life a safe and normal life. Her big brother was like her best friend and surely he'd come along...except he wouldn't, which just further upset her. And as angry as Amelia was with him at wanting to stay, she knew he wouldn't budge- they were all stubborn in their own ways, and so finally after ages of coaxing her to..Amelia finally went on her own, making him swear to at least text her every day so she knew he was okay.

She did her senior year of high in Aurora Bay high and was immediately the new girl in school; secretive, alluring. She lived with Esme on Aurora Bay Drive, suddenly having more money at her disposal than she even knew what to do with. She managed to make a few friends, dated, started having a life here, but she still always worried about siblings, especially Wes. She ached for Wes to be here too, to know he was safe, but still, he stayed in Salem.

After graduating high school, Amelia got a job at the crystal shop in town, Luxe, because it made her feel closer to him, having spent years learning about crystals and wicca from him. She enrolled into college. She made a life for herself here, but there was still something missing. A Wes-shaped hole that hadn't been filled in her life.

Until finally, finally, Wes had arrived--bruised and broken but he was here and Amelia was determined to help put him back together. She was all for it when he got his own apartment, when he got a job. She remembered the first night he let slip about his boss' daughter. She remembered him freaking out when he got said boss' daughter pregnant- but also got to watch him grow into his own, practically maturing in front of her own eyes as he and Liza got closer, fell in love, got married and had their baby- one Amelia was totally obsessed with.

Finally, her life felt...stable. It felt good. So over Christmas break when their grandparents in Paris contacted them, offered to fly them out, while Wes obviously couldn't go...Amelia took them up on the offer. She flew out in January, meaning to just go for a couple weeks but she ended up staying for a couple months, living with her grandparents and just getting all she could out of it. She's finally decided to come back home though, back to Aurora Bay. She wants to finish school, wants to see her niece growing up, and she wants to just live a content life without the shadows of their father around every corner.

Basics:

full name: amelia rosalie evans

nicknames: ames, mia, amy (she hates this one)

birthday: january 23rd

hometown: salem, massachusetts

height: 5'6

fluent in english and french

moved to aurora bay when she was 17 years old

baby sister to wes evans

aunt to elise evans

pin board

@aurorabayaesthetic

[stigmvtas]

welcome to marina, PALOMA "BABE" MORI ( demi woman, she/they ) ! they are a TWENTY SEVEN year old who has lived on the island for THEIR WHOLE LIFE. word on the street is they’re currently living in TOWER HILL and works as a TAXIDERMIST / STRIPPER. everyone also says they look a lot like NANA KOMATSU. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF PARENTAL DEATH, CAR ACCIDENT, NIGHT TERRORS, MORE DEATH, STALKING, HARASSMENT, GUN VIOLENCE (IMPLIED), DRUGS. UMM. YEA.

profile.

full name: paloma mori.

birthday: august 13th, 1996.

astrology: leo sun, leo moon, leo ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: 8 now by food house.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

parental death / car accident; she's raised by her maternal grandfather and uncle, smack dab between her two brothers - their parents died in a car crash when her younger brother was just a baby, babe still too young to remember them much, or the accident that took place.

they live in a small apartment atop their grandfather's restaurant - a small noodle & beer shop that welds just enough profit for them to get by.

has been called babe her entire life - sometimes her grandfather says its because after her older brother had watched the movie of the same name, he thought she looked so pink and pig - like.

night terrors; is diagnosed with night terrors at a very young age - her cries and screams wake their household nightly, tiny limbs thrashing about like undergoing an exorcism. every night, on repeat - again and again. sleep paralysis becomes common - strange figures always lurking in her doorway, fingers curling over her doorframe - insomnia after that, because babe can no longer stand to sleep.

as a kid there's only so many explanations to her diagnosis - none feel right, a girl always in denial - settles on the belief that maybe she's a medium. that maybe what she sees are just spirits reaching out for her - wanting her help. she's so young, her family just thinks she'll grow out of the belief - but she never does. it's better than acknowledging the truth - of the deaths she's tethered to.

grows up the weird girl - the girl who talks to nothing, the girl who says she's really seen bloody mary in the mirror - the girl who's always bruised from taking a fall from her skateboard, over and over again - the girl who never learns. the girl who set the robotics club room on fire, and was banned from competitions from there on. always plenty smart - but terrible at utilizing it.

death; her grandfather dies shortly after babe's high school graduation - and college seems like a distant memory. she'd been serious about it, once - but now she needs to help out where she can. her uncle's taking over the restaurant with her oldest brother in tow - her youngest already picking up jobs when he should be studying. babe hates to see them struggle - hates how palpable the grief is in the air, how thick it is - how she can barely breathe.

she gets a job at the strip club as a dancer - she's young and charismatic, muscle built from years of roughhousing - it reels in plenty money, enough to help out her household and have some leftover. she picks up taxidermy classes, because college still seems so far away - babe knows how to move forward, but not how to pick up the pieces and continue where she's left off - dozens of projects left half - finished, plenty of relationships dropped without warning. the only constants are piper, her best friend since diapers, practically, and reggie - the boyfriend she breaks up with, but never truly leaves. she's known him for so long - it feels impossible to ever really part.

stalking / harassment / gun violence; years later - babe's a known face at the club with a plethora of regulars, customers who adore not just her body, but her personality, who respect her - who pay her plenty. a new customer begins to get a bit too - affectionate towards babe. too close, too interested. the club's good about discomfort - and he's escorted off premises after he tries to follow her into the dressing rooms. it doesn't end after that - an obsession that carries outside of the club, that follows her - he follows her, to and 'fro - the police useless, because he hasn't touched her - and when her oldest brother finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands. the man doesn't die - but he comes close to it, and when the police come knocking this time 'round - it's babe's uncle who steps up; who confesses to the crime. a crime he hasn't committed - but will protect his family from.

it's been a year since then; her oldest brother's taken over their family's restaurant - and the guilt swallows babe daily. she's only semi - recently gone back to work, much to the protest of her brothers; her oldest brother still upset about her decision, and still not talking to her.

facts & temperaments.

has unironically called herself an empath and in her defense she sort of is. feels emotions so so deeply that they hurt. a big crier, can't help it. tends to let them get the best of her - an irrational thinker who always jumps to conclusions, whether it's about you loving or hating her.

a little performative, dramatic - feels like she needs to be, like if she's not a caricature of sunshine then she's just the girl with a should - be - dead stalker and an incarcerated uncle. the girl with the dead animals, and the profuse swearing of mediumship.

a big - time partier, a known raver; self - proclaimed scene queen. always wearing rave attire, even in the cold - loves big, bold colors, the more neon the better, her arms consistently covered in kandi that she gives out like candy to her most favorite people of the week, sometimes the hour.

drugs; big big big on psychedelics and like. party drugs. loves poppers. will never admit that she has a problem - thinks she can always just reel it in.

has probably said rawr :3 in the past 24 hours.

loud and bold and talkative - isn't afraid to point out things that others may not; doesn't get the hint when to shut up. a bit of a blabbermouth, but she can't help it.

needs to be validated often that she's still liked and loved and adored, it's a bit of a problem. tends to latch onto others and form the occasional obsessive attachment. it's no big deal. sometimes it lasts for days, sometimes months. she finds most people interesting, and sometimes the most random things draw her in. thinks there's more beneath every person and she wants to know Every Layer.

a little hypersexual - a coping mechanism to deal with. Everything. but also just loves love! will also get incredibly jealous at times, but it's almost as a joke? but only babe finds it funny, and only after everyone's like babe wtf? then she's like omg jk haha im not that possessive :3 (kind of is)

once again, a big crier - at minor inconveniences, at sad movies, at misunderstandings; even when angry, it's just more tears. purposefully wears mascara that runs for the aesthetic. has probably never taken her eyeliner off.

big on adrenaline - seeking and cheap thrills. loves the idea of overcoming danger. believes in ghosts and cryptids and probably wants to fuck mothman, experiences medium revelations like several times a day.

has several tattoos that are just the @'s of people she's fucked whether it's their instagram or twitch or what. she thinks it's funny. and it's like, girl? kind of matches how her shitty little honda civic that's always falling apart is covered in bumper stickers on the outside and like. actual stickers on the inside. like she's just vomited lisa frank.

downs several monsters or various other energy drinks a day. aforementioned car's floor is littered with the crushed cans and general. gross shit ngl. we love her though.<3

[mixahrexlm]

✦ BENJAMIN WADSWORTH, GENDERQUEER, HE/THEY ✦ MICAH REALM the TWENTY FIVE year old has been in Hidehill for THEIR WHOLE LIFE and was a CLASSMATE to Lucas Johnson, the missing persons. Whispers on the streets are that the BOOK CLERK AT UNDERCOVER BOOKS who lives in HADLEY PARK are said to be INTUITIVE and NOSEY but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

Trigger Warning: Drug & Alcohol Abuse, physical abuse suggested

Meet: Micah Realm

Tell me are we posing, or are we juxtaposed?

full name: Micah Kian Realm nicknames: Realm (Micah has gone exclusively by Realm since high school with very few exceptions.)*** important note gender & pronouns: genderqueer & He/They age & date of birth: 25, April 4th 1998 where do they live: Hadley Park time living in Hidehill: His whole damn life occupation: Book Clerk at Undercover Books positive traits: Intuitive negative traits: Noseyface claim: Benjamin Wadsworth

background.

Call it a curse that nothing ever came easy to the Realm Brothers. Micah Realm being the youngest of the three never quite understood how at home all he wanted in the world was to disappear, while to the rest of the world he felt like a total ghost. It was like living in this limbo he could never get out of. The curse of being the youngest of three brothers in a small town. Micah was still small when his father abandoned them the first time. As far as his oldest brother was concerned, the man had fucked off after an argument with their mother but a much younger Micah felt as though he could never be certain of the truth. The feelings clearly wavering when a string of men started coming and leaving at what sometimes felt like all hours of the night. Most of them were unobservant to her three sons still living in the home, but every so often she’d catch a real nasty one who always seemed to feel like he had something to prove. Didn’t really matter. Even those types didn’t last.

Micah could remember the first time he made it home and their dad was back sitting in the same old arm chair he had before he’d left. A small part of him was hopeful that their random string of strangers had come to an end. Unfortunately this wasn’t the case. He’d always seemed to have a problem with liquor, but on the benders where he’d return home, he’d become someone Micah could barely recognize. After the first couple of times this had happened, his brothers would make a point of waiting out his stay as far from home as they could. Oftentimes spending time dragging Micah along to spend his time with crowds he barely felt he'd fit in with.

When his oldest brother eventually moved out, Micah wondered if he and his brother would be enough to survive their father’s gruesome returns home. He managed to distract himself most of the time with his writing. Something he’d picked up on the days where he decided to stay late in his English class. The days where all he wanted was to avoid having to go home if he feared his father might be there. Micah could remember being told by his English teacher to write what felt familiar. Something he knew. Something that interested him. A challenge for sure when he kept to himself as often as he did. Always wondering how he missed the social gene that seemed to envelop his older brothers. So instead he let himself become wrapped up in their lives. Found solace in the control it brought him to play make believe with the very real lives of his brothers friends.

He’d only had the idea in his head to start writing about them for a short time when his first chapter came to mind. A story about an incident he’d seen at one his brother’s band rehearsals. It really was all fun and games until someone gets hit in the face with a symbol. Something about some kid named Tommy going around telling people one of the groupies gave second rate hand jobs. A fascinating display and there was Micah writing down every last detail, every thought he had, and every word that was said throughout the experience penned. Being home never really felt like an option but prior to this, Micah was certain he would have rather bathed in ketchup than have to spend his evenings being ignored by a group of people who barely knew he existed. That night was the start of what he’s referred to as his chance at greatness. The beginning of his very first novel that he declared was going to be his ticket out of Hidehill.

After the incident, he started spending more and more time with his brother’s friends thinking himself incapable of making any of his own, until she came into his life. Emery had always been the kind of person, Micah never expected would be willing to look twice at him. Everything about her seemed too cool. Too far away from the limbo he'd grown so accustomed too. Even of the few relationships he had built over the course of the years, none of them really felt like his own. He was the younger brother. The side thought. Emery was the first person who saw him and made him feel like maybe perhaps, he really was person shaped. She was always so quick to share her music with him, and though it definitely took time, he eventually opened up to sharing his work with her as well. So to say it was a dream come true when they decided to take the next step and become physically intimate, despite their agreement that it didn't have to mean anything, would have been an understatement. And yet despite all the discussion they'd had Micah could have never prepared himself for how it would make him feel after. Or how much it would sting when so shortly after she entered her relationship with Axel. The very same Axel who would steal her away as though the whole thing had been nothing more than a dream.

In the years since Emery had left, Micah found himself returning to his mostly lonely writer esque ways. He kept an eye on her band, always quietly supporting her from the sideways, and hated the twist in his stomach that occurred when she was no longer on the bands posters. Despite this, his pride kept him from reaching out. Instead, in recent years, he's decided to take up an interest in the investigations happening around Hidehill. He can't feel like there's a story written into this somewhere and he's dedicated himself to finding out what it is.

Wanted Connections/Plots:

Family: As mentioned in the bio, Micah does have two older brothers. I would eventually love to try and get these filled. I will probably send in requests for them eventually but for now if you're interested come hit me up!

Trailer Mates: Try as he might, as much as I'm sure he'd love to be able to live alone, he definitely can't afford that. I'm also just a sucker for roommate plots. So come gimme a live in homie.

Book Club: Yes I'm aware this is a murder mystery RP. Yes I still want a soft wholesome little book club. SUE ME

Pen Pal: Gimme a cute lil pen pal relationship where maybe they send each other/ dish and share theories on the Shadow happenings in Hidehill.

More to come...

[kryptoncat]

Take Care, Caretaker (The Haunted Mansion Ride Fic) Part 1

(Gen. Family-focused. Mix of comedy, drama, tragedy, and some romance. Main characters: The Caretaker, the Hitchhiking Ghosts, the Hatbox Ghost, and the Brides)

(Fair warning, I started writing this in 2019, the last time I was obsessed with The Haunted Mansion. I have no idea how long this current obsession will last, but I figure it's better to post a fic unfinished and come back to it later than to never post at all.)

Horace sat quietly next to his oldest brother on the church pew, trying hard not to fidget. His legs were too short to reach the floor, and he had accidentally kicked Hatty's cane a few minutes ago, earning his oldest brother's disapproving gaze. Right now Hatty's eyes were on the middle child, Ezra, whose arms were crossed beneath a frowning face, blinking away the sleep as the pastor droned on. Hatty elbowed his younger brother none too gently when Ezra didn't even try to stifle his yawn.

When the service finally ended, Hatty slowly pulled himself up with his cane, placing the source of his nickname back on his head, while Ezra grabbed Horace's hand and charged through the chattering adults. "C'mon, let's go play!"

"In the graveyard?" Horace's voice was small as Ezra pulled him away from Hatty's protests and outside of the building.

"Of course the graveyard! Where else?" Ezra rolled his eyes. Other children were already chasing each other around the graves. One of the boys ran up to them.

"Hey Ezra, let's go to the old Gracey place!" The kid pointed to the large stately mansion bordering the church's graveyard. "Milly's too scared to look in the windows."

"I am not!" A girl protested, stomping her little foot as she stood beside a tomb. "I just want someone to come with me."

Ezra dropped Horace's hand and stood between the two children. "We should all go together, and look in the windows at the same time," he said with a grin. "That way it's fair and nobody should be scared."

The other kids agreed with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Horace looked back to the adults talking near the church. Only one young man, barely twenty, stood among them with a cane. Hatty had to look up as he conversed with the pastor. His face was suitably dignified and composed, but his hand shook slightly as he leaned on the gnarled rod. None of the adults were paying attention to the children. Horace slowly followed the other kids as they crept to the end of the graveyard where the mansion stood.

Horace lagged further behind as the sleek white walls of the mansion loomed closer. He craned his neck to look at each of the dark windows, imagining someone behind them, watching him back. He returned to reality only when Ezra called his name.

"Horace! We'll leave you behind if you don't keep up!" Ezra frowned as he yelled.

"Let's go back, Ezra." Horace's eyes watered and his voice shook. "Please."

"Come on Horace; we're all doing it." One of the children said. "Don't be a chicken!"

"Hang on; I'll get him." Ezra ran back to his brother and sighed when he saw his tears. "Honestly, you miss out on all the fun." Ezra clapped Horace's shoulder and pointed back toward the cemetery. "If you don't live a little, you might as well be dead!"

. . . . .

The mansion was not the impressive-looking palace of luxury Horace remembered from his youth. Vines climbed the once-white walls and columns, and Horace could see the large amounts of undergrowth surrounding the building's perimeter as he drove closer.

Horace parked the Model T right in front of the large wrought iron gates of the graveyard near the mansion. There was no one to let him in, but there was also no lock on the gates, so Horace grabbed the flowers from the passenger seat and pushed the gates open.

The church had burned down years ago in an incident with the new electrical wiring placed in the building. But the graveyard was still there, and much larger than it had been in Horace's childhood. The number of graves may have indicated that many people thought it would be an ideal resting place; peaceful, quiet, and deep in the woods, but the haphazardly placed stones and partially filled plots betrayed less noble intentions. Since no one in town claimed to own the property, people could bury loved ones there without spending much money. And since the mansion was a ways out of town, many families chose its graveyard to bury those they felt were better off forgotten.

Dry leaves cracked beneath Horace's feet. He pulled his scarf and coat closer as a cool afternoon breeze passed him. The cemetery was just as unkempt as the mansion. Graves were covered with brush and vines, fallen tree branches littered the area, and tombs showed their age with cracks and, disturbingly, holes. Horace stepped up his pace as he searched the names of the strangers laying beneath him, not stopping until he found the one familiar name on a small gravestone. EZRA DOBBINS was carved crudely into the marker with no other epitaph, not even a date of birth or death. The writing was already fading, even though Ezra's passing wasn't that long ago. Horace wondered how much weathering the stone could take before he had to carve the words again.

Horace bent down and picked up the remains of the flowers he brought the last time he was there, and replaced them with a humble arrangement wrapped with string. A rather large tree branch had fallen behind Ezra's grave, so he removed that, chucking it into the woods. He pulled the weeds and, when he had nothing else he could clean, stood at the grave for a while, just looking at it.

His brother had always been a chatterbox when he was alive, telling stories he had heard from far-off places or of the latest gossip in town. Hatty would pretend not to be interested, sternly responding that Ezra needed to get his head out of the clouds and do something useful with his life. But Ezra would laugh and continue on until Hatty wound up invested in the stories, asking follow-up questions and interjecting with mild arguments as he sat by the fireplace with his sewing. Horace would be perfectly comfortable just listening to his brothers' banter as he swept the floors of their late parents' house or fixed the three of them tea. But now Horace was alone. There was no tea, no banter, no brothers.

The grave did not speak and Horace couldn't think of anything to say back. He finally gave a quiet, "Goodbye, Ezra," and walked away.

Though the sun had yet to sink, the air still chilled around him. Horace held onto his hat to prevent a breeze from blowing it away. As he hurriedly walked past the mansion, he noticed he was not the only person there. A woman in a striped green and black dress stood on the steps of the mansion. Dark coiled hair framed her face underneath a maid's bonnet. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms when he walked by. Horace was taken aback but didn't want to seem ungentlemanly.

"Good evening, miss." He tipped his hat. "Nice day for a walk in the cemetery."

"Oh!" She blinked at him, then forced a smile. "Yes sir, I hope you had a pleasant visit." Her smile fell to a grimace as she held her gaze in his direction. Horace shivered and turned to leave. "Have a good night, miss."

"Wait," the maid said with a sigh. "I have to ask. I noticed you cleaning a bit of the graveyard. Would you be interested in being the groundskeeper for this place?" She gestured at the mansion behind her. "It would take a lot of work, but the Gracey family pays well, believe me."

Horace now looked past her at the once pristine mansion. In all his years of coming to church here, Horace had never seen, nor met any member of the Gracey family. He wondered how the maid became employed here. The whole place gave him an odd feeling.

"I'll consider it, miss," he said with the tone of someone who's already made up his mind. "Thank you for the offer."

The maid just stared at him, and Horace felt a chill as she didn't turn away. She laughed suddenly, shaking her head, smiling as she walked back into the mansion. "Get out of here, then. I hope you come back soon." The door closed behind her.

Bewildered, Horace started the car's engine and drove down the dirt road. He relaxed as he saw the mansion become smaller in the rearview mirror. "She was certainly very strange."

"You think she's strange?" A voice cackled behind him. "Go and meet the folks inside the mansion."

Horace looked straight at the rearview mirror and into Ezra's eyes. He braked the car hard, nearly crashing it, and turned immediately to the backseat.

No one was there.

Horace breathed quickly, looking everywhere. Had he imagined Ezra's voice? He hadn't heard it in so long. He looked back at the mirror but saw only his own eyes. Horace shivered, took deep breaths to calm himself down, and started up the car again. As he drove, he recalled the face in the mirror. The skin was pulled too far back around his smile, the eyes were sunken into his skull, and the nose had completely rotted off his face. But those were Ezra's eyes.

Horace tried to get the visage out of his mind as he pulled up to his neighbor's house. Ezra had always been so full of life, he didn't want to imagine his brother… like that. Horace shivered as he thanked the man profusely for letting him borrow the motorcar, then hurriedly entered his small shack across the street. He tried to quickly close the door before he could let the cool air in, but it was too late for that.

. . . . .

Something had awakened him. The ghost rose from his grave and spotted the black Model T heading for the gates of the graveyard. It didn't matter that Horace couldn't afford new shoes for transportation, much less a newfangled motorcar; Ezra knew his brother had come to visit him.

Phineas Queeg had been peacefully resting until his friend's excited voice cut through all 6 feet of earth. "Phineas, wake up!" Ezra, ever the patient one, reached through the ground and pulled the now disturbed spirit out. Phineas groaned and sputtered, adjusting his cloak and hat before grabbing the carpet bag that materialized at his side. Ezra made a show of brushing off the dirt from Phineas's cloak before pulling him along. "Come with me; let's go!"

"Where are we going?" Phineas asked, looking around. "It's too light out to try and hitch a ride; no one would see us!"

"Ah, but he doesn't have to see us!" Ezra pointed to the man emerging from the car at the gate. Phineas could see the man was shabbily dressed with a cap and scarf, but couldn't make out details from that distance. Ezra hurried to an unmarked grave where prisoners were buried.

"Hey, Gus!" He bent down and shouted at the ground, then jumped in surprise when something tugged on his coattail. Behind him was a small man with a large beard, his hand carrying the iron ball chained to his foot. Gus covered his mouth in glee at scaring his friend, but Ezra didn't seem to mind this time.

"Over here, Gus! I have someone I want you to meet!" Ezra bounded away like a puppy chasing a new toy. Gus shrugged his shoulders and joined Phineas, who still looked groggy. The two of them followed Ezra to the cemetery's gates, where the living man had just entered, carrying a scraggly bundle of flowers.

"Are those for me? You shouldn't have!" Ezra ran up to hug the man, only to pass through him. The man barely acknowledged it, save for shivering and adjusting his scarf. Phineas and Gus looked at each other but did not comment.

"This here's my baby brother, Horace," said Ezra, quickly turning around to walk beside the living man and attempting to pat him on the back. "Phineas, you remember him, don't cha?"

"We've met?" Phineas studied the man. Phineas became good friends with Ezra towards the end of his life, but he didn't remember ever meeting Ezra's family. Horace did look familiar, though.

"Yeah, you did! It was just the week before I died." Phineas struggled to remember meeting Ezra's brother. The time surrounding Ezra's death had been muddled by drink. As Phineas's memories dangled out of his grasp, Horace reached Ezra's grave and started replacing the old flowers with new ones. Ezra watched him, oddly silent, his thoughtful expression mimicking his brother's. Phineas decided he would ask questions later.

Horace then walked over to a fallen branch behind the stone and started dragging it away. "This place is a mess," Horace grumbled.

"Hey, sorry I didn't clean up before you came." Ezra walked after him, his jovial demeanor returning. "You know you shouldn't expect someone's home to be all prim and proper if you come over without calling first!"

Gus tugged on Phineas's cloak and pointed to the tall grass and debris on the other graves. "You're right, Gus." Phineas bent down to pick up a stick, but his hand went right through it. "It's not like we could clean up, even if we tried."

"Well, not with that attitude," Ezra rubbed his chin in thought. "I'm sure if we wait until midnight, all grab it together, and really believe in ourselves, we can definitely move that stick."

"What exciting evening plans we have," Phineas sighed.

Horace chucked the branch into the woods, then walked back to Ezra's grave, slouching and solemn. The ghosts gathered around him. Ezra sighed at his gloomy brother.

"Sorry he's not much entertainment. Never was, really. Guess there can only be so much cha-rizz-ma in one family." Ezra threw his bony arm over and partially through Horace's shoulders. "Still, he is my little brother." The ghost grinned suddenly.  "And what kind of friendly big brother would I be if I didn't look after 'im every once and a while? So, what do you guys say - wanna tag along?"

Phineas smiled. "We haven't gotten away from this place in so long; I'm with you." Gus nodded vigorously and pumped a fist in the air.

Ezra grinned at his brother. "What about you, bro? Mind the company?"

"Goodbye, Ezra," Horace said to the grave, then walked away. Gus slapped his knees as Phineas guffawed and held his stomach.

"Hey! You can't just reject me like that!" Ezra feigned distress and placed a hand over his chest he ran to catch up with Horace. "I'm hurt! How could my own brother be so cruel?" Ezra tried to knock off Horace's hat but only succeeded in messing his hair a bit.

Phineas subsided his laughter when he saw the maid frowning at him from the mansion's steps. She was known as Sara Everson, the only living person to set foot in the mansion for quite some time. She did not look amused.

Phineas tapped Ezra on the shoulder to get his attention, and both of them doffed their hats to her. "Lovely to see you, miss!" Ezra said as he bowed. Gus, with his tattered robe, curtseyed.

"This here's my dear brother," Ezra continued. "We're going to travel with him for a while. Surely there's nothing wrong with a little family visit?"

Sara furrowed her eyes at him, and that's when Horace decided to greet her, tipping his hat just as Ezra had. "Good evening, Miss. Nice day for a walk in the cemetery."

"Oh!" She said in surprise, addressing Horace. "Yes sir, I hope you had a pleasant visit."

"Thank you so much; we sure did!" Ezra winked at her.

"We won't be gone long, Miss," Phineas added. "You know us, always traveling, always coming back."

"Ha, ha! If another tree falls on the road, we might not make it back!" Ezra pointed to the debris around the mansion and laughed again.

The maid sighed. "Wait," she said. Horace and the ghosts looked up at her.

"I have to ask. I noticed you cleaning a bit of the graveyard. Would you be interested in being the groundskeeper for this place? It would take a lot of work, but the Gracey family pays well, believe me."

Phineas raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, and Gus looked at Horace expectantly. Ezra also turned in delight to his brother.

Horace did not look so enthused. "I'll consider it, Miss. Thank you for the offer." Ezra kept his grin, but furrowed his brow in thought. Phineas wondered if he was getting an idea.

Sara was still staring at them, so Phineas waved cheerily. "Goodbye for now, Miss Sara!"

"Please don’t cry yourself to sleep in my absence!" Ezra bowed with a flourish. Gus copied the bow as best as he could while holding the metal ball.

Sara laughed and shook her head at them. "Get out of here, then. I hope you come back soon." She disappeared into the mansion.

Horace stared for a moment at the place where Sara stood, then turned to the motorcar, the ghosts following behind him. While Horace climbed into the driver's seat, the ghosts simply phased through the doors and into the back.

"You know, it would be nice to have a caretaker for the old place," Phineas said, settling down beside a window and placing his bag by his feet. "But your brother probably already has a job."

"I'm sure he does." Ezra rolled his eyes and leaned back in the middle of the seat as the car started to move. "Hey, Horace. Are you still stuck sweeping the streets? Maybe plunging a few toilets? Or did you finally grow a spine and tell your boss to shove it?"

Phineas and Gus stared at Ezra, who was suddenly frowning. They jumped a bit in surprise when Horace spoke.

"She was certainly very strange."

Ezra laughed loudly. "You think she's strange?" He looked at his brother's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Go and meet the folks inside the mansion."

The car suddenly lurched to a stop, and the ghosts had to quickly hold on to each other to avoid flying out. Horace turned around, his face inches away from Ezra's.

"Uhhh, boo?" Ezra said.

"Ezra! We talked about this!" Phineas's voice was stern as he faced his friend. "No scaring the living while they are driving these contraptions!" Gus nodded in agreement.

"I didn't mean to! Not this time!" Ezra was honestly shocked. He stared at his brother as Horace looked frantically around the car, breathing quickly. "Look, he can't see us now."

Gus tapped Ezra's knee and pointed back and forth between Ezra and Horace. Phineas leaned over and nodded. "Gus has a point. Maybe because you two are brothers, you can materialize in front of him more easily. You should probably be more careful until we reach his house."

Ezra frowned but leaned back as Horace got out and shakily cranked the car. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I guess you two will have to do without my dulcet tones for a while. In the meantime, Gus, why don't you tell us a story?"

Gus nodded and stroked his long beard thoughtfully.

Horace parked in front of a tidy house a little while later.

"Wow." Phineas shook his head and prepared to leave the car. "That was more information about hyenas than I ever wanted to know."

"Eh, I've heard worse," Ezra lied. He phased through the car and faced the home in front of him. Phineas appeared at his side and smiled cheerily. "What a lovely house. It seems the flowers he gave you were from his own garden." Phineas pointed to the marigolds at the perimeter of the house. Gus was already among the flowers, taking a big sniff.

"He's done really well for himself," Ezra stared in awe at the clean windows and newly painted wood. Horace stood at the door and knocked.

"I knew it." Ezra looked cross as he watched his brother thank the man in the house for lending him the car and letting him pick the flowers. Horace then walked across the street to what could only be described nicely as an eye-sore. "And you said you could make it just fine on your own, didn't you?" Phineas could feel the bitterness in Ezra's voice.

Horace walked the path to his hovel, breathing unsteadily, his face clearly still shaken. Phineas stared at the man, trying to remember meeting him, but his mind persisted in coming up blank. "Ezra, are you sure I met your brother when I was still alive?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Ezra crossed his arms, still staring at Horace. "You two didn't get on too well, though, I don't think." Ezra shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about it. If you don't remember him, he might not remember you."

Horace walked up the rickety porch steps with his key, and Ezra followed his brother without looking back. Gus finally ran across the street, clearly unhappy with his unsuccessful attempts at trying to pick the neighbor's flowers. Phineas adjusted his hat with a sigh and walked on.

Horace shakily unlocked his front door and stepped inside, shivering as his brother and friends walked right through him.

[scnderisms]

⸻  DIANA SILVERS. SHE/THEY / have you ever heard of SINCERITY IS SCARY by the 1975, well, it describes OPHIR ‘PHE’ SPIEGEL to a tee! the twenty seven five years old, and GAS STATION CLERK was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say THEY are/is more apathetic or more PATIENT instead? anyway, they remind me of bare feet in the grass, the truth before you're ready to hear it, a nightmare dressed as a daydream, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

the middle child of the family with an attitude to boot . phe is the second youngest of a relatively well - off family . she watched her oldest sibling , her brother levi , opt out of his parent’s wealth . he worked for everything he wanted . sometimes that seemed like the high road , other times it seemed silly not to take the only leg up you have in the world .

with parents not being around much, due to work, the spiegel siblings bared their grievances in the ways they deemed fit . you can guess how phe took it based on the fact that she resents having to share a birthday week with her older sister (no matter how much she loves her ) . zibby is the life of the party . no matter whose it is , if zibby's there it feel like zibby’s party . phe learned a long time ago to get over birthdays . phe treats it as any other day now , barely remembering to even wish a happy one to their siblings until it pops up on the calendar . 

phe got by — good grades without trying . things came naturally to them in a way that made up for the laziness they had otherwise acquired . it is probably the characteristic she gets the most grief from her family about . 

both intelligence and temper run in the family so it makes sense that phe is easily irritable . similarly to her brother , she doesn’t make friends easily . she’s pretty much stopped trying altogether . unlike levi , she wasn’t too busy . the effort simply did not match the outcome . 

she smokes because it’s comforting . she smokes because everyone smoked at the restaurant she worked at one summer . it was a good way to make acquaintances and almost - friends in school . they had met them in the smoker’s section . it was an introverts dream come true , a social faux pas to rely on for human connection . phe became as addicted to it as the isolation .

anxiety does not hinder this spiegel , but then again phe does worry about having to live up to expectations . it always felt like their parents left a very small margin for error , a line phe was left treading her whole life . they made a point to get away with as much line - crossing as they could while their parents stayed distracted by their siblings accomplishments and lack thereof . this taught them to tread lines with others , remembering that small margins for error make it hard to trust attaching yourself to anyone , especially when error feels preferable at this point of monotony . 

both levi and zibby followed clear cut paths . maggie's path was still being carved out , the youngest spiegel making ophir a part of a sandwich . it was the first time ophir remembers wondering if siblings should have to be consented upon by the siblings that came first . oh well . it was likely maggie would follow the path of levi and zibby and find a passion to pursue . ophir could never relate to that . with levi being practically a doctor and zibby being a marine biologist , how could phe even compete? zibby may have punched out a few kids on ophir’s behalf , but she still came out the other side with a degree . that made any and all previous mistakes forgiveable .

middle child syndrome

their first language is sarcasm

honest to a fault

commitment issues

bisexual, but has not come out to their family

family first, even when phe hates them

teachers will say ' would thrive with a little more effort and a little less attitude '

film professor changed phe's narrative when they wrote mind of her own

first love is film photography

second love made phe regret it

can always be found somewhere out on the grounds taking pictures

turned their bathroom into a dark room

does not share their photography (despite wishing to make a living out of it)

[colleenmurphy]

"T45 tonight again...for the fifth time this week, Briggs?"

A small smirk popped at the cattleman's downturned mouth. With deep set sky blue eyes that appeared today nothing more than slits set in a face that looked foreign to it's normal sunny demeanor. T45 was a song when things were going right, when the deck wasn't stacked against him.

"No, just a double on the Turkey and B35."

"Ain't nothin' Turkey and Twitty can't fix is there?"

A slight shake of the cowboy's mouth was enough to get the barkeeper to set out his preferred bottle of Wild Turkey and put a brightly painted house coin into the jukebox followed by three more. A buck's worth and a repeat. Ol' Delbert Faurnier was feeling mighty nice to him tonight. He made sure to slip an extra twenty into his bar money this evening for the old bar tender.

"You look like somebody's gone and shot your best hound."

The familiar twang of Heck Avery's voice floated towards him from the left of the bar. There stood tall, sandy haired hard nosed Hellman Avery, the head of Delaney Cattle Limited and Alan's best friend since they were riding their hobby horses in short pants while their father's took care of other people's cattle and horses. Alan's father himself was still a blacksmith and furrier for the tri county area. Heck's Dad, Hellman Jr., or Hell as he was called by damn near everyone in their tiny town of Boone's Ridge, had been dead the better part of ten years. Gored the week after their high school graduation by a rather nasty bull he'd 'bought for a song' off Herschel Braxton and a bitter blood fued ensued between the two clans and damn near split the town in two. The Delaney Girl as she was known back then had been the olive branch to heal both sides and the ensuing marriage made the Avery clan very wealthy and Delaney's didn't feel the addition.

"What the hell do you want you Class A shit stirrer."

Was what Alan Briggs wanted to say to his oldest friend, could he even call Heck a friend? Not after what he did to Hank Braxton and his brother. Alan himself was between a rock and a hard place - Heck was the one that signed his paychecks for overseeing the Delaney Farm & Vineyard, the Delaney's personal cattle operation used for prized bull breeding stock and Colleen's beloved corral along with the newest addition of wine making to the farm Jigger Jim's Girl had made a good name for herself. Heck's little hobby these days was buying up foreclosed acreages or long forgotten ranches without family and adding them onto his own Swinging H Ranch and chasing every skirt in the neighboring counties that he could. Tonight was no exception but this one looked familiar, very familiar.

"Evenin', Heck."

A curt nod as Twitty played on, oddly enough the juke spat out what should have been a well known song to Heck but he ignored it but Briggs caught it. That little downturned twitchy flicker of Heck Avery's conscience got him thinking of the green eyed girl he'd married and left sitting at home. Briggs remembered how she'd become after the accident and how she now waited by the phone twisted into knots if Heck wasn't home at the agreed upon time. She adored him and had no idea that was out here tomcatting with..who was she? Kelli? Kelli Mabee. That's exactly who this blonde girl was. No more than newly twenty one and dressed to snare a full grown man she thought she wanted, she hung off Heck like a cheap suit reeking of menthol cigarettes cheap perfume and even cheaper wine as she giggled into Heck's ear and toyed with his hand.

"Gimme a minute, sugar."

Handing over a $20 Alan watched as the bubbly and barely kept together blonde tottered over to the other end of the bar flagging down poor old Delbert.

"I see you eyein' up Ms. Mabee there. It was a sure damn bet from the get go, mi amigo."

Noticing his coarse joke didn't land as he'd intended Heck attempted to save face with a hurried flick of his lighter and light of his own full flavor Morley Red.

"It doesn't mean a damn thing. She doesn't mean a damn thing to me."

'Who? This one or your wife?'

Allan thought to himself as he sipped his drink. This shot seemed endless tonight. He hadn't noticed that Delbert had slipped the bottle towards him with a nod as he kept the baby cheeked blonde dressed head to toe in pastels and frills occupied. She had yet to notice the old man had been given her a steady supply of weaker and weaker drinks until she'd ended up with Shirley Temples.

"Kelli I mean. It's just some fun, I know Colleen loves me but she's so occupied with her horses and her hair and the houses. I think she's stepping out on me I just can't prove it."

Another measured pour and an offering towards his old amigo as Heck had referred to him so he borrowing the term, and Briggs hung his head. His friend was in a sorry state indeed. He knew for a fact that Colleen wasn't the one cheating, the thought had crossed her mind and she admitted that only to Briggs himself. She'd very nearly kissed him at the last New Year's Even Party the Avery clan had held. Black and white and your best boots had been the invite and She'd said that Alan hadn't lacked at all , her husband on the other hand had left the party early to go to close a deal in New England. Oddly enough when he spoke with the family's shared private pilot that Heck hadn't flown alone that night, a bubbly little blonde was with him blabbering away about Boston. Her assistant was home with a sick niece or so Col had been told this morning via a harried phone call, so it was just Colleen against the wolves with her Mama for back up. The three of them kept the Avery family throughly entertained with embellished gossip they'd all heard on their last trip up North.

"Maybe she's not cheating on you, ever think that maybe your conscience is getting the better of you, Heck?"

"Us Avery's don't have'em. It was deal made a long time ago, Ace."

Wincing at the use of his old nickname Alan Briggs shuddered before finishing his drink. He'd made up his mind in that moment, he was headed out to Sage Brush Hunt and Riding Club and confessing all he knew about this current mess to break them free of the self imposed shame. An eye for an eye after all.

"It's Alan or Briggs now, Heck. I've grown up."

"Just 'cause you went and got yourself gored trying to save ol' Hank don't mean you get to be bitter. It wasn't supposed to be you on the chute anyway that day."

He failed to see the fist fly towards his angular face until it connected and the force of being flat out sucker punched off his barstool sent him up and then down into a heap as Kelli screamed. He cut her off by throwing $100 towards her.

"Call a cab, pack a bag and go to the airport. Tell the Albatross that you and Heck here want to go to Boston for a long week then tell him to fly back. Mrs. Avery will be in touch to tell him to come home. You don't know me but I know you, Kelli Mabee. Quit your assistant gig and live the high life off Heck here. Don't come back to Boone County."

[torc87]

My grandfather's story, my family's story

I was reading a post today about a discussion a teacher had to have about the swastika w her middle school students. A discussion that was personal and painful, and cost the teacher something. I was reminded of how Holocaust survivors would go into classrooms and talk about their experiences. Put a face to the atrocity. Make it less about numbers for those children who had no connection to it beyond something they read in their history books. And I realized, how unlikely this was to happen these days. Survivors are fewer in number, the last remaining ones are in their 90s.

My grandfather is 93. He doesn't speak English. Even if he could, he has spent over 80 years barely talking of what he experienced. It has come out in drips and drabs, a sentence here and there. My mother tells me he talks about it more in his later years than he did when he was younger. More is maybe a few sentences every year.

My mother told me that when she was little, her mother taught her to Never ask her father about it. She knew about the Holocaust, about the camps. Russian schools visited the area of one of them. WW2 is Big in Russia, Veteran parades yearly, stories very very alive and taught - at least it used to be in my Mother's childhood. How could it not be? Every family lost someone. It's not just a national history, it's part of every family's story.

My mother never asked. I asked only once. I was 8 and had an assignment for school. We had just come to the US, so I don't recall what the specifics were, but my mother decided I was old enough to know. I asked. Once and only once.

He showed me the number tattooed on his arm. There after all these years. He was in a Ghetto camp. Nine or ten years old at the time.

His little sister would have been 6-7. I didn't know to ask if her arm had been forcibly tattooed too.

I never asked again, but we pieced some of it together over the next twenty five years.

His family lived in a Ukrainian Village. Well, Soviet village at the time. Just under Odessa, in the Settlement Pale, where Jews were permitted to live on the outskirts of the Soviet Union.

Mixed village of Jews and Ukrainian. They had a house. Pigs. Not very religious by that point - religion had been outlawed for about twenty years. I know they celebrated some holidays w the specific foods, kept shabbos a bit. I don't know if there were prayers - my grandfather doesn't remember any. Three children, my great grandfather was a tailor on top of the little farmstead they kept. Good relations w all the neighbors, Jewish and Ukrainian.

When Germans came close to the village, thete were rumors. But the Jewish leaders, old men who had survived WW1 said "the rumors must be nonsense. We fought w the Germans. They are a civilized people. We will talk to them". So a bunch of old men met the Germans at the village gates, surrendering. This wasn't a village of soldiers.

My grandfather was 9 or 10 years old. I don't know if the entire village gathered or if he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. This is what he saw.

The Nazi shot one of the elders that greeted them, killed him. They then ordered the other elder, his friend, my grandfather specified, to drink his blood or be shot himself.

I don't know the end of that story. My grandfather told it to his Senior Care Center during a celebration of the wars end - he's one of the oldest there and was asked to speak. They video taped it and I translated the video tape. He has never mentioned this incident to my mother or me.

Hell of a thing for a child to witness.

After that they were ordered away from their homes and places in a Ghetto.

The Ukrainian neighbors they were good friends with took things from their house as they were leaving.

I was naive enough to ask my mother if they were keeping them safe for my family.

My grandfather, his two siblings, and his parents shared a room in the ghetto. Little food, though his father could trade his tailor skills a bit. His grandmother was there too, though not living w them.

I only know she was there bc his mother and all three kids caught typhus. My grandfather said his grandmother came over to take care of them and made the decision to give what little food there was to the mother and his oldest brother. There was too little food, she decided to save those that had the best chance of survival. He recalls laying there, knowing he and his little sister had been given up for dead.

Somehow, by some miracle, all three children and mother survived. I don't know who was keeping watch over them, whose blessing they had. They lived.

My grandfather was light haired and eyed. He passed for goyim. He used to sneak out of the ghetto. I am guessing to get food though he hasn't elaborated. One time he was caught and struck across his head w the butt of a gun. Ten or so years old.

Close to the end of the war, all the Jews were gathered outside in front of a big pit.

You can guess what was about to happen. They thought they were about to be executed. Shot and buried in the pit together, like so many other locations did ( look up Babiy Yar if you don't know it).

A man dressed in a German officers uniform rode by at the last minute and ordered the German soldiers to stop. He saved all their lives.

My grandfather doesn't know, but suspects it was a Resistance member who risked his life to get the uniform and saved theirs.

Of those close saves my mother's life, mine, my sisters, my cousins, were saved to exist.

When the war was over, his parents went back to their house in the little village under Odessa. They didn't get their property back from their good friends the neighbors. They lived there the rest of their lives.

My grandfather, in eighty years, has not told more than those few stories about his childhood.

It haunts him still. He is very unsocial, untalkative, reserved in himself. Has trouble making connections.

I don't think I'll ever know if it's trauma, his personality, the hit on the head he got as a child, or something else.

His story reverberates through my entire family.

My mother confessed once that she has had nightmares since she was a little child, of being put in a Ghetto.

The Holocaust is more real to her, more present.

The fear of it happening again, the distrust of whether Goyim would stand by us or not, the lack of true feelings of safety is something she taught to me and my sister.

Communication skills in my family start w me and my decade in therapy. Emotion management skills too. My grandfather never learned them - how could he, when the years he should have been learning them or socializing w peers, were spent surviving. How could he teach them to his daughter if he didn't know them himself.

The Soviet Union stole most of my connection to my family's ethnic and religious past. My mother knows no prayers, we keep no traditions. Only in the US, when my mother was already in her thirties, did we start trying, awkward and unsure, to light a menorah on Hanukah, to fast on Yom Kippur.

Most of my connection to my ethnicity is through the pain my family suffered. The horror they went through, the losses - after all, my grandfather's story isn't my grandmother's, or that of my father's parents.

I feel myself Jewish in defiance of those who would have killed me for it. My mother feels it like an inherited burden, a candle of connection that just won't light up no matter how she tries. My sister ... Is only twenty and barely understands where the Russian ends and the Jewish starts. She was born here, it is all foreign immigrants stuff to her.

My grandfather is still alive. He is 93. I am not brave enough to ask him how he feels his Jewishness. I cannot risk hurting him.

But his story will not die w him. It lives, and will live as long as I do, as long as my future children will.

I wish the stories of those Holocaust survivors strong and brave enough to speak out were videotaped. I hope some were. I think they should be regular viewing as the price of hatred. To put a face on what hating blindly does.

It's too easy these days, w internet, to see people as labels. To hear numbers rather than stories. To think of history as done and over.

It isn't. It lives on in survivors, in their families, in the stories they shared and the silence of stories they didn't.

It lives - and so do we.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x OC)

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ] 

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Summary : 

21 year old Hwang Sera is sick of being the only human in an entire clan of vampires. As an immortal human from one of the oldest bloodlines, she is a catch. The Vampire she marries would essentially be indestructible. 

Which makes her an easy target for greedy vampires everywhere. 

Determined to keep his precious daughter safe, her father hires an old friend , Jeon Jungkook as her full time bodyguard. 

Jungkook is 35 years old ( well technically 576 years old )  , father to an adorable five year old kid and he has zero tolerance for Sera and her teenage shenanigans. But , he needs the money and he knows his son would be safe in the  Hwang clan’s massive mansion.  

And suddenly, after years of despising vampires, all Sera can think about is getting into the gorgeous vampire’s bed and maybe into his heart. 

Chapter 1

“He’s so hot.” My sister sighed for the seventeenth time and I glared at her.

“He’s mine. Back the fuck off.” I bared my non existent fangs at her and she retaliated by showing off her own inch long fangs, eyes flashing ruby red in the confines of our huge sprawling bedroom. 

The man in question, my sparkling new bodyguard wasn’t here now. He was downstairs at the party, being introduced to the others as the latest addition to our clan.

My mouth watered when I remembered his gorgeous, handsome face. And that body , God. 

Sculpted by some higher being who wanted to show off, for sure. 

I had never given much thought to losing my virginity. It certainly wasn’t by design that I hadn’t had sex yet but looking at Jeon Jungkook in a fitted black suit, midnight black hair falling into his lovely red eyes and those delicious muscles.....

I kind of believed in fate now. 

This was why I’d always been repulsed by the vampires who courted me. 

Because Jeon Jungkook had been out there, waiting for me. 

And now fate had brought him here and he was going to be mine. 

I stumbled over a stray bra, nearly face planting onto the floor . 

 God, i hated how messy Somi was but I was also eternally grateful that she had skipped out on the party tonight, volunteering to help me with the kids. 

I ran a daycare in one of the larger cottages in the estate, keeping the little fanged devils in check while the parents went about their daily lives. On nights like this, when my father hosted guests from every clan in the country for one of his lavish parties, there was always a whole bunch of bite-happy toddlers in need of supervision. 

Enter me.

 I loved babies. I’d always loved them. They were adorable. And after three years of school , I was finally, officially qualified in caring for them. 

Oh and by the way did i tell you that Jungkook had a son? Jeon Joowon was possibly the cutest five year old I’d ever seen and yes I was a little biased but that was okay. I was going to be the kids step mom , after all. 

Listen, don’t look at me like that, I just really want to be with Jungkook okay?

I tripped over the same bra when turning back around and I swore.

Focus, Sera. You can day dream about hot vampire daddy later.

“ Why do you have to throw your shit all over the place like this? “ I whined, grabbing the offensive piece of fabric and tossing it at her. She caught is so fast I  went a little cross eyed. My sister never missed an opportunity to show off her super-saiyan, vampire powers. That made her a crowd favorite with the toddlers and younglings . 

“I still don’t think your choice of a career is smart. These fanged little beasts are impossible to control... ” She commented mildly, watching me stuff two whole cartons of baby wipes into the huge backpack I had propped against the bed. I’d forgotten to restock the day care with wet wipes and it was sheer luck that I had a pair of them lying around my room.

The very idea of entering a room full of babies and toddlers without baby wipes, made me shudder. 

“Listen, they’re absolute angels when you listen to what they’re saying. Just because babies can’t talk doesn’t mean they don’t have preferences. All you really need to do is find out what each kid likes and help them feel comfortable -”

“Please stop.” She rolled her eyes and I glared at her.

“I’m a little thirsty. Can i have a sip..” She said softly and I frowned.

“You haven’t drunk from me the entire day. Are you okay?” I held my wrist out.

She shrugged , grabbing my wrist and casually sinking her fangs into the vein . Pain bloomed, familiar and somehow comforting , replaced almost at once by the gentle numbing of her venom. She drank a little and pulled back soon after, linking the puncture wounds for good measure. I watched the skin knit itself together , whole and unmarred in no time. 

Perks of being immortal. 

The knock on the door made me jump. 

“Ms Hwang?” Jungkook’s soft, husky voice came floating through the door and I grinned, cheeks aching with how wide my smile was.

“You look like a maniac. Stop smiling.” My sister looked a little alarmed and I struggled to rearrange my features. Sticking my tongue out at her, I grabbed my sweatshirt, slipping it overhead quickly. I glanced at the mirror, grimacing a bit. 

Being with toddlers meant no make up or hair left free.... and so I had a messy top bun, and just lip gloss to look presentable. While the entire party teemed with gorgeous vampires in low cut gowns and blood red lips. 

Ugh. 

I grabbed the backpack and waved to Somi.

“Come as soon as you can alright?” I begged her and she waved me off.

I rushed to the door, throwing it open and smiling wide.

“Hi oppa.” I said cheerfully.

“I’m not your oppa.” Jungkook said automatically, barely glancing at me and instead reaching for the backpack. He directed me to the stairwell on the side, the one that led straight down to the ground floor and out into the gardens. He went in first and  I followed him,  climbing down carefully. 

I sighed, taking in the mouth watering width of his shoulders, encased in a perfectly fitted jacket. He looked so handsome I wanted to cry. And although he’d been here for a whole week month now, I hadn’t managed to get into his good graces. 

“What do I call you, then?” I made to hold his hand when we reached the end of the staircase  but he shook my arm off at once.

Did I tell you that he really can’t stand me for some reason? 

“As I’ve  mentioned a dozen times already, Mr. Jeon would suffice.” He said shortly. He held the door leading out into the gardens open and I walked through. 

“That makes you seem so old.” I grimaced, shaking my head and he gave me an amused look.

“I am 576 years old.” He deadpanned. The daycare cottage was just a five minute walk from the mansion and the pathway through the garden was absolutely beautiful, well lit and covered in the brightest flowers. 

I waved off his excuse about his age. 

“you don’t look a day over twenty five to me.” I said with a shrug. He shook his head, clearly too tired to carry the conversation on. We walked in silence and I felt incredibly content, just with him near.

 And he was going to be by my side for the rest of our lives, I thought softly. I would make sure of it. I’d never felt this way about anyone. Jungkook was a good man , evident in literally everything he did. He was kind, an amazing father and such a gentleman that he made me melt. 

Jungkook had been turned at the age of 35. And so he sailed through eternity with the gorgeous good looks of a mature , well kept man. His hair was thick, just a slight bit of grey peppering the edges and his features were sharp and well defined. 

“Is Joowon in the daycare already?” I asked with a smile and he nodded curtly. 

“He has Mr. Pepper with him. He refused to leave him behind. please just make sure he still has him with him when he leaves. He can’t fall asleep without the bunny “ He said softly and I felt my heart bloom ten sizes.

“Of course, I will -”

“Jungkook !!!” The shrill voice broke the stillness of the night like a hammer through a mirror. 

I turned around with a frown only to be greeted by the sight of a very pretty, very tall vampire in a blood red bodycon dress and a neckline that plunged all the way to her belly button. She had ruby red lips, and well made eyes. Eyes that now flashed red , dilating as they ran up and down his body. 

I felt myself clenching my fists. 

“I’m getting late....we need to go, I grabbed his arm trying to tug him along but he didn’t budge. i glanced at his face and felt my heart shatter at the small smile playing around his lips.

“Helena..... Surprise seeing you here....” He drawled, voice so much deeper than usual and I bit my lips. They knew each other? 

The vampire had reached us now and she gave me a disdainful smile.

“Who’s this?” She asked with a laugh, “ Are you babysitting now, Jeon?”

I bristled. To my utter chagrin, Jungkook laughed to.

“She’s the kid I’m watching. The Immortal human  of the Hwang clan.” He intoned dully. 

The lady’s brows went up in surprise.

“:The rumors are true, ....The Hwang clan’s hidden jewel.....with skin like the rarest pearl and eyes that steal souls. Fiercely guarded ...a beauty like no other.... I thought they were exaggerating, but I see they were not. . You’re exquisite.” She commented , seemingly genuine in the compliment as her eyes roved over my features. 

“ Um.. thanks?” I shrugged, not particularly flattered by the extravagant description.  

The poets in my clan tended to be a bit overdramatic at times. 

. She laughed.

“Are you unavailable for the night, then Jeon?” She turned her flashing eyes on him .

My jaw nearly dropped.

Did this bitch really just proposition-

“Afraid so.... Raincheck?” Jungkook smiled wide and he looked so beautiful that I had to bit my lips to stop from moaning. 

Helena waved softly, eyes shifting back to me.

“Be safe, little human. When the sun goes down, the ghouls come out to play.” She grinned wide, letting her fangs grow long, past her lower lip, eyes red and bloody. 

I stared right back. She laughed and waved before floating away into the night. 

Jungkook chuckled. 

“You’re not intimidated by us, then.” He said mildly as we began walking again.

“I spent the entirety of my childhood playing with vampires. Do you really think they didn’t spend every waking hour trying to scare me to death?” 

He gave me soft smile, and then went back to staring straight ahead. 

I relaxed when the familiar cottage came into view, the sound of laughing kids reaching me. 

I held my hand out for the backpack and Jungkook gave it to me.

“I’ll just check out the backyard and see if al the gates are secure and then I’ll be right outside the door, alright? Call out if you need me...” He said sharply 

“Will you come even if I call you oppa?” I bit my lips, grinning and he flicked my nose. 

“Behave.” He said shortly. I sighed.

“I’m not a kid, you know.” I said softly and he gave me a look.

“You are to me. Now get inside.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There’s a monster behind the tree and I’m Hawkeye because I have the bow and arrow and Jieun is the princess.” Joowon said brightly, showing off the toy bow and arrow in his hand and I grinned, taking in his exquisite features. He looked strikingly like his father , except for the two adorable dimples that showed up everytime he smiled.

“That’s amazing... do you like fighting monsters?” I asked with a grin holding my arms out for him and he hugged me happily.

“Yes, I like fighting monsters and I like Mr. Pepper.” He waved the stuffed bunny in my face. 

“Make sure you keep him safe, alright? “ I stroked the soft skin of the 

“So what color does your daddy like?” I asked with a grin. I felt a sharp kick on my shin and I turned to my sister. 

“Don’t use the fucking kid for your sinful aims, you dingbat!” She hissed and I glared at her. 

“I did no such thing...I was just making conversation....” I hissed back.

“Dad likes black.” Joowon answered dutifully and I ruffled his hair. Jieun appeared then, having waited for her prince and gotten bored. She tugged on Joowon’s arm and I let him go, watching the two of them run off. 

“Its only been a month, Sera.... I think you should tone down the infatuation. You know dad would never approve.” My sister said gently and I frowned.

“No he won’t, Dad loves me , he wants me to be happy.” I said shortly. 

“Yes, but not with Jungkook. He’s a rogue vampire. He doesn’t have a clan. He has a kid ...”

“An angel of a kid...”

“he has a kid whose mother he had to kill because she was a bloodthirsty witch.” 

i stared at my sister feeling anger build inside me.

“What does any of that have to do with how I feel about him?” I demanded , moving to stop one of the littles from tripping over a stray rubik’s cube. 

“ You’re special. You’re being courted by some of the richest, most powerful  vampires in the country and you want to go after the rogue , broke vampire who’s only here because he needs the money and the safety of our clan?” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I said firmly.

Somi sighed.

“I’m just saying. Don’t be so blatantly open about your feelings. You’ll be putting a target on Jungkook’s back.” 

I exhaled sharply. 

“If anyone tries to hurt him, they die.” I said softly.

Somi chuckled.

“I know.... but still, he’s not looking for trouble. Don’t bring it to his doorstep.” 

I didn’t reply, moving quickly to the other side of the room. 

the words left a bitter taste on my tongue.

Mostly because my sister was right. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i stared at the tall strapping vampire, trying to comprehend what I was hearing.

“What do you mean he isn’t here for the night?” I demanded. 

“He’s a little tired. He told me had a little too much to drink and he wants to sleep it off. I’ll be here instead ... Just for tonight.” He tried to smile reassuringly and I was momentarily distracted by very deep dimples  but I could feel myself fuming. 

“and he didn’t think of saying that to me himself? He had to run off while i was closing up the cottage?” I glared. 

The Vampire chuckled. 

“He told me you might protest.”

“Of course i protest, I feel safer with him...” I said sharply.

The Vampire gave me a deep sigh.

“I’ve been doing this for three centuries, Miss Hwang. You’re definitely safe with me.” He bowed his head.

“What’s your name?” I demanded. 

“Kim Namjoon.” 

“Fine , Kim Namjoon ssi.... Let’s go. “ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giving Namjoon the slip was a lot easier than I thought. I waited for him to greet my great uncle, and slipped between two waiters carrying blood cocktails and weaved into the crowd easily. 

Jungkook’s bedroom was next to mine and it took me less than a minute to race up the stairs and to his room.

i banged on the door , determined to see for myself just how drunk he’d gotten. 

The door opened and i took a deep breath.

“How dare you leave me-” 

I froze when I realized that he was shirtless, fresh out of the shower. Water dripped down his torso , like little starbursts of liquid light and my mouth went dry. I swallowed, staring at the tightly packed abs, the dip of his v line as it disappeared into a fluffy white towel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growled angrily.

My eyes flew to meet his and then my gaze caught something red on his bed and I peered over his shoulder.

Pain lanced through my heart so sharp that I felt like I’d taken a fucking brick to my chest. 

The sight of Helena, naked except for a red bra, stretched out on his bed got burned into my brain and I choked.

“You-” I began but he grabbed my arm, so hard that I knew I would bruise. He yanked me away from the threshold of his room, dragging me to the middle of the hallway as he slammed the door to his room shut.

“Where the fuck is Namjoon?”

“You ditched me to get laid? “ I hissed in disbelief.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re doing this-”

“Is she your girlfriend-”

“Sera-” he shook me again but I refused to back down. I had to know.

“Are you in love with her?!!!” I demanded, my heart breaking .

Jungkook growled.

“It’s none of your damned business!!” He snapped angrily .

“It is !!” I said shrilly.

“Why on earth-”

“Because I’m in love with you!!” I shouted and he froze. 

He let go of me like he’d been burned and stepped back, staring at me wide eyed,. 

“What did you just say?” He demanded.

“I want you. I want you to court me-”

“Sera stop.” He said sharply 

“I’m not joking...I like you and-”

“Shut up.” He growled, his voice shaking. 

I swallowed.

“If you say something as asinine as that to me , ever again... I  will  make you regret it. ” He warned softly.

I felt my heart jerk in panic.

“Jungkook-”

“It’s Mr. Jeon to you!!!” He growled. 

I bit my lips, staring at my feet.

“I’m going to pretend this never happened. You’re going to go to your room and wait for Namjoon. If anything like this ever happens again, I’m telling your father.” 

I laughed bitterly.

“I’m not fucking twelve years old you son of a bitch. Stop talking to me like I’m your toy or something !” I snarled.

“If you were my toy I would fucking spank you till you cry and lock you in a damn room!” He hissed. 

I flinched.

He took a deep shaky breath. 

“This never happened.” He said sharply. “ I’m not one of your boytoys. I have no interest in fledgling humans who know nothing about life. That's not the kind of woman I’m looking for. You’re not the kind of woman I’m looking for because you aren’t even a woman yet.” 

“ Jungkook !!!” Namjoon’s voice rang through the hallway and I stepped back. 

“Have a good night with your whore, Mr. Jeon.” I snapped, before turning on my heel and leaving. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Hot DILF! Vampire Jungkook is hot.  This brings back fond memories of me panting after my husband as a nineteen year old brat . I was a devilish teenager smitten with a twenty seven year old man. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed :D