#seriously Libby shut up

[greenpaths]

adding onto my last reblog legitimately using a library card and connecting it to my kindle was life changing. I have the book for the martian physically but I haven't wanted to carry it around and read it and you know what I did? I just rented it from my library and tossed that shit on my kindle. didn't have to pay for it again, didn't have to go through less than legal ways to get the ebook, just supported my local library and got a more convenient way to read something I've been meaning to read. please use your local library and all of its resources - the amount of people who don't even REALIZE you can rent ebooks and read em on any electronic devices is so sad!!!

(this post is usa-centric I realize a lot of people around the world don't have as easily accessible library systems/etc. However if you Are internationally based there are usa-based library systems that allow for international users to hold a card for a yearly fee!!!)

[inmyheaddd]

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night - averyjameson

a/n: heavy influenced by thinking bout you by ariana hehe, also trying out a new style sorta?? so i'm vv sorry if this is horrible.,, thank u tig gc/ liv for help with the quotes !! summary: (set in thl, pre coma) avery cannot stop thinking about jameson, and the thought that he may just be the right person for her. the fact that there even could be a 'person for her' is jarring enough, and jameson being at the centre of those thoughts does not help her predicament. wc: 2.8k

Avery tossed and turned in her bed, trying insanely hard to grasp some sort of control over her mind and her thoughts. She lay on her side and screwed her eyes shut. Two minutes later, her eyes flew open, and then she turned to lie on her back. 

''Picture yourself standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind is whipping in your hair. The sun is setting. You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn. Who’s there?” Max had once asked her.

When she first heard that question, she felt like she was fully incapable of ever picturing anyone there with her. She was simply alone. But now, Avery hated that the picture was becoming increasingly more clear with every passing moment. 

That head of unruly brown hair, an ever-present wicked grin, and green eyes that seemed to look straight to the deepest parts of her. 

Jameson. She saw Jameson. 

Avery groaned and turned onto her other side and went through that process of turning fruitlessly at least 5 more times. Seriously, Avery, get a grip, she thought.

Why was he always there when she needed him? Why could she see that he had actually changed for her? Why was he... good? Avery once again squeezed her eyes shut like it would turn off those thoughts of Jameson and let her fall asleep, but of course, it didn't work. 

Love? Fear? Lust? She couldn't quite tell what it was, but all she knew was it was becoming harder to keep that one green-eyed Hawthorne out of her thoughts. She knew that for some reason, she wanted whatever they had going on to be more, and she wanted it to work out. 

That was it for her. 

She sprang out of bed and went to her closet, picking out her favourite sweater—the one Libby had gotten for her when she noticed the thinness of the old one Avery would always wear. That felt like a whole lifetime ago to her now. She wondered what her past self would think of her life now, think of the choices she was making. 

She made her way to her bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. There was no point in even attempting to sleep anymore; it was clearly not on her side this evening, so why not make the most out of it? 

She made her way downstairs, arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to combat the cold, not really knowing why she was going, but she figured once she was down there she'd figure out what she'd want. The house was eerily quiet—it was always pretty quiet considering the sheer size of it, but now, Avery could swear she could seriously not hear a single thing. She almost wondered if she went deaf. 

She made it to the kitchen, not even bothering to turn the big lights on. There were lights from underneath the cabinets and moonlight and various other lights pouring out from the windows. That was enough for her. She sighed and slouched on one of the chairs on the island. 

She ran a hand through her hair, trying so very hard to not think of the amount of times she and Jameson had sat here, how many times he had grinned at her when he would seemingly appear out of nowhere behind her and scare her half to death. 

And as if the universe was playing some funny trick on her, the boy who had been taking up her every rational thought walked into the kitchen. He didn't notice her at first, his black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, no shirt on, both hands rubbing his eyes as he walked towards the cabinet that held the glasses for water. 

Avery felt like she'd been caught, though she hadn't done anything wrong. Thinking of someone wasn't a crime, right? Surely her thoughts couldn't have summoned him. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, and her heart sped. 

She didn't move a single inch, and Jameson somehow still stayed completely oblivious to her presence a mere few metres away. Or maybe he was aware and just didn't show it. Avery could never fully tell with him. He blinked a few times, then set his glass down and stretched both his hands overhead, groaning ever so slightly.

Okay, I should seriously look away now, she thought. Or she should make her presence known, maybe clear her throat or something. But she couldn't. It was like she was entranced with the way the toned lines on his torso elongated, the way his arms looked, the way his hair fell into his face ever so slightly, the way his hands—

''Heiress.'' Avery's thoughts came to a halt. Her eyes snapped up to his face, and he had amusement sparkling in his eyes, mixed in with confusion. He managed a sleepy grin at her as his arms fell back to his sides. 

He phrased the word like a question, almost. There was sleep still laced in his voice, and Avery swore she could listen to him like this for hours and never get sick of it. 

He tilted his head. ''Why on earth are you awake?'' he chuckled lowly, not mentioning the way she had simply sat and stared at him for the past minute. 

Either he was protecting her sanity and didn't want to tease her right now, or he really just didn't notice the way she stared. Avery snuck a glance at the time on the oven. 3:42 AM. She'd been trying to fall asleep since 11. 

''Um,'' Avery cleared her throat, trying to sound as casual as Jameson did with a small laugh. ''Couldn't sleep. Why on earth are you awake?'' 

''You know what they say, Heiress,'' he narrowed his eyes jokingly, ''No rest for the wicked.'' Jameson flashed her a wink, finally filling up his glass of water under the tap.

His eyes didn't leave Avery once, not even looking at his glass as he turned off the tap and brought the cup to his lips. 

He leaned back against the counter, and Avery turned slightly in her seat without realising, facing him properly. 

''You think you're that bad, huh? Don't flatter yourself.'' Avery mumbled half jokingly.

''You almost sound like you think I'm good,'' he quipped with a tilt of his head, downing his glass of water in a second, and Avery 100% did not look at the way his Adams apple bobbed or the way his lips looked. Absolutely, definitely not. 

Avery managed a sarcastic smile, not showing any signs of being affected by his actions or words as he walked over and sat next to her. 

She snorted, ''You're probably the furthest thing from good in my life, Jameson. Doesn't mean you're necessarily wicked, though.''

He looked her up and down with a glint in his eye—he looked wide awake now. ''Furthest thing from good?'' He hummed, ''I think you would do with some recklessness in your life.'' He continued, his tone not really holding any humour in it anymore. Avery realised just how close he was now. 

''Maybe someone who lets you know it's okay to not do what others think is 'good.' Someone who breaks free from the reins with you but knows when to bring them back.'' He told her, a half smile on his face as he gently nudged her shoulder. 

''Not that you're not able to do all that by yourself; believe me, I know you're capable of many things.'' He said that last part in a way that made Avery break away from his gaze. ''The thing is, I think that you simply don't want to. You like to play it safe.''

Avery understood the other message he was silently conveying: He liked to play it dangerous. 

She felt like the part of her shoulder where he had nudged her was igniting. She could sense there was more to what Jameson wanted to say, so she brought her eyes back up to his. ''But?'' 

''But,'' he tilted his head, ''I also think you should. And, I think that someone would love to show you just how life can feel when you're free. They'd be a very lucky person to do so.''

''Let me guess,'' Avery smiled dryly, but her insides felt like they were on fire with how fast her heart was beating. ''You're that someone?'' 

''I'd be anything you'd like.'' He replied, flashing a quick smile that reminded Avery of the Cheshire Cat. ''You know, you're a very good guesser.''

''I don't like to guess.''

''Yeah?'' Jameson let out a breathy chuckle. ''I thought as much. You like to know.''

Avery pressed her lips together and fought back a smile; she did like to know. She hated feeling like there was something left undiscovered that she couldn't quite figure out. Which was partly why she loved the thrill of figuring things out. That moment when everything seemed to click. Jameson had picked up on that fact about her pretty damn quick. 

Avery didn’t look away, holding his gaze steady. "Yeah, I like to know," she admitted quietly, her voice even, "I know you're the same way. With winning, too. Is it weird that a part of me doesn’t like you knowing that about me?"

Jameson’s crooked grin grew, "Not weird at all." He shrugged, the casual movement undermined by the glint in his eyes. "You don’t like me wanting you, either. You don’t like wanting anything.''

He said the words in such a laid-back manner, while Avery's heart dropped. Her brows knitted together, it almost felt like a confrontation, but she got the sense that he wasn't judging her. “But you know what’s interesting, Heiress?” His voice dipped a degree lower as he inched his face just a fraction closer, the kind of proximity that always left her torn between feeling both cornered and wanting to break the space even more. “You and I—neither of us are that easy to figure out. And yet here we are.''

''Here we are,'' she repeated, her voice coming out sharper than she intended, ''knowing each other more than we'd like.'' She said, finishing his sentence for him.

And trusting each other with our lives. She thought, but she didn't dare say it aloud. She thought back on the Black Wood, the way he put his body over hers with no hesitation.

"I think that’s why you can’t decide if you hate me or not," Jameson added, his voice dropping a degree lower, "You like knowing, but being known? That’s a different kind of risk, isn’t it?"

He knew he was right. She didn't need to answer. He'd just summed up the way she had felt for years of her life in 3 sentences. She wouldn't let herself be known, yet a part of her yearned for it. Most people gave up trying to get close to her after a while, but with the few that stayed, Avery's walls slowly broke down, and she got comfortable. 

The risk Jameson was talking about, the one about people staying, he seemed eager to take it. 

Avery’s heart raced, but she gave nothing away, merely tilting her head with a wry smile. "You’re overthinking it, Jameson."

His grin widened, and he leaned in ever so slightly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps you’re choosing to not think about it, Avery."

Oh, if he had any idea just how much she thought about it. Once again, he knew, she was choosing, or at least trying to not think about it.

Her mind lingered on the way he called her by her name. Not Heiress, not Mystery Girl. Just Avery.

''I've 'thought about it' enough.'' She told him, her gaze flitting between his eyes.

He casually brought his hand up and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, his gentleness nearly making her flinch. ''And what was your conclusion?" He asked innocently, his voice a low hum. 

Avery nearly sighed in frustration. She knew Jameson was simply trying to get her riled up, but she still sarcastically quipped, ''Why don't you use your guessing skills?"

He hummed, like he was seriously thinking about it, but the teasing smile on his lips said otherwise. ''I'd rather hear you say it.''

Jameson's hand that tucked her hair behind now fit right where her jaw met her neck, and his green eyes looked nearly black in the dim lighting of the kitchen.

''Tough luck, then.'' Avery mumbled, unable to look away.

Everything had seemed so cold just minutes earlier, but now, Avery felt like every nerve in her body was on fire. She wondered if Jameson felt the same. 

Avery tried to keep her composure, but the way he held her made her question everything. She was used to keeping control, but with him, control felt impossible, unnecessary even. There was something about his touch that made her feel like she could let go and still be safe.

"Jameson…" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to pull away or bring him closer. His hand slid lower, resting at the base of her neck, and the heat between them intensified.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, though it seemed he knew her answer. 

Perhaps he wanted to hear her say that too. 

Avery’s mind was racing, her heart thudding loudly in her chest, but her answer came without hesitation. "No." It was barely audible, but it was enough.

In the next instant, his lips were on hers, and everything else faded away. The kiss was soft at first, slow, as if he were testing the waters, but Avery wasn’t about to let it stay that way. She leaned in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer.

Jameson responded instantly, one arm sliding around her waist, then he stood and brought them both out of their chairs as they stumbled around the kitchen, not breaking from the kiss.

They continued walking blindly until he gently backed her up against the counter. Avery’s breath hitched, but she couldn’t pull away.

She didn't want to pull away. She didn’t want to doubt her choices. Not anymore.

Click.

Avery had suddenly felt like everything fell into place, like the very first step she had taken in the Hawthorne House had led to this, to uncovering the mystery of what she and Jameson Winchester Hawthorne were. She once thought they were only confined to adrenaline, attraction, and the thrill of the moment. No strings attached. No messy emotions.

Now, she found herself feeling every messy emotion, like there had been a string attached right from her heart to his, pulling them closer and closer and closer.

'You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person.' Jameson.

'You turn. Who’s there?'Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. He was there. 

He was here. And he was kissing Avery and holding her face so gently in a way that no one ever had before, like she was precious to him. Like he truly cared, and not just about the games.

And after all the times Avery spent thinking about the different ways her life could've been, she found herself not wanting to be anywhere else but here.

If possible, Avery's heart started beating even faster as her hands travelled down his chest, feeling every rigid bump and dip. Her hands quickly found their way back up and slid into his hair, pulling slightly. She felt him grin against her lips, which brought her back to reality. 

She was the first to pull back, her hands lingering around his neck for a second longer before they slid down to his chest.

“I should... I should go to bed.” She muttered into the small space between them, looking at her hands and bringing them back to her sides before looking straight up into his eyes. 

Jameson tilted his head, his pupils blown out as he gazed at her. His lips were parted as he caught his breath. ''Right.'' He nodded breathlessly, their lips still unbelievably close. ''It's late. Busy day for you tomorrow, yeah?'' 

Avery nodded as she breathed out a small, ''Yeah, you know how it is.'' 

Recently, all her days were busy, considering the Skye and Toby business.

His lips curved inwards into a thin line as he stepped to the side, giving her space to move. His expression was something that looked like understanding—or maybe it was disappointment. Either way, he didn’t push. He just nodded. 

“Alright,” he said, managing a grin, seemingly out of the daze he was in earlier. “Goodnight, Heiress.”

Her stomach twisted, ''Night, Jameson,'' she let the words fall as she stayed looking into his eyes. She forced herself to look away, because she had a feeling if she didn't, she'd be there all night.

She finally stepped away. She wasn't clueless; she felt him watch her walk away. But she kept herself moving before she could let herself change her mind. 

And this time, when Avery lay in her bed, she actually fell asleep. 

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 also special thank u to @apollospoem for the beta read!! 🙈 she saw it first!!!

[lyrakanefanatic]

Tig character hcs except this time it’s not their kids and just them!!

- I just KNOW the hawthornes made vines, and then Nash would have to be the one to edit and record them all 💀💀

- max used to make taylor swift music videos and then have her brother record them (yes, she has a brother that’s mentioned like once in the first book 💀💀)

- Avery is taller than libby by like 🤏 much

- Jameson “hates” cats but pets every cat he sees

- Libby used to make baking tutorials when she was 12

- Xander met maxs parents once and then was traumatized by them ever since (he’s scared of them)

- grayson has a 7 step skincare routine

- Xander once tried to surprise tackle nash but accidentally gave him a concussion so he was banned from doing that for a couple months 💀

- avery and Jameson have movie marathons that consists of eating Libby’s desserts and binge watching classics (or horror movies)

- grayson has a light blue skincare fridge

- when xander was little he tried to smuggle candy so he could eat it late at night and then they got maggots living in his room after that 💀

- Tobias was soooo mad

- libby has fed more cupcakes than she would like to admit to tiramisu

- thea used to have “fashion runway shows” in her bedroom, which meant wearing 748248 different pieces of clothes ontop of one another, and somehow managed to convince little xander to do it with her

- he still has the photos to haunt him to this day

- Grayson will NEVER EVER EVERRR admit it, but he likes rom coms. So sometimes, when it’s late at night and everybody else is asleep, he will binge watch a romcom or two. It’s his guilty pleasure and as much as he pretends to hate them and gaslights himself into thinking they’re cringe, he still loves them

- Rebecca never really got much attention from her mother, but sometimes Tobias would spend the day with her and show her cool puzzles. She would always look forward to those days, as it’s the one time she doesn’t have to worry about pleasing Emily (💔)

- Nash definitely had a girlfriend when he was 13 and when they broke up he started wearing all black and turned emo for two weeks. When his little brothers started catching on and asking Tobias what happened, he would just say “nash is going through a phase 😇”

- before Jameson learned Latin, he learned all the bad words and then started saying them to EVERYBODY (Tobias shut it down pretty quickly, but then they had to actually learn Latin so there wasn’t much Tobias could really do about it 💀)

- max almost died once because she decided to go ham on the pills that her parents had on the top cabinets

- Avery watched every single chipmunks movie about a million times because her mom used to think they were HILARIOUS

- when Gigi was little, she was sooo clumsy and would break everything, so it got to a point where even when Savannah would accidentally break a vase or something gigi would still get the blame for it 💀

- Grayson chased Jameson around the house with a knife once

- when they were little the Hawthornes would take April fools sooo seriously, which meant multiple things exploding, whipped cream being thrown in peoples faces, and just so much more chaos

- xander was a slime kid when he was little. He would have sooo much slime and would be constantly making it, and he also tried to do those “making slime without glue” things 💀

- when Avery was born and Libby saw her as a baby, she was so happy and was crying because she’s always wanted a little sister 💖💖:(

- max had a dream one time where Xander cheated on her so she called him crying at 2:54 AM while being half asleep and shouting about how he could do this to her

- she hung up not long after that and went back to sleep, but when she woke up she realized it was a dream (she still gets made fun of for it by xander to this day)

- xander asks libby if she can make him blueberry and lemon scones because they’re “better when she makes it” 🫶🫶

- when Rebecca and Xander were little, they tried storing WILD ANIMALS under xanders bed because they wanted a zoo 💀

- one of the animals ate through the walls, so that’s how Tobias found out

Okay I think that’s all!!! Lmk if u want me to do more, bc it’s actually rlly fun lmao

[into-the-hellaverse]

Lucifer and Adam's Good Day

Final part of the Bad Day series!

Before we get to the fic, I wanna thank lilacwriter07, hellojenpenworld, inubaki, and libby-for-life (not tagged cause idk how y'all feel about being tagged in random fics). Libby started this with a commission and Lilac, jenpen, and inubaki kinda kept spurring it on with their kind words and encouragement. Y'all shouldn't have done that XD If you do that, you get a happy giddy mess that's lowkey over the top and filled with typos.

But still, thanks to you guys I did something I never thought I could do. Finish writing something. I always wanted to write a fic series, and it's my dream to be a published author, but I never actually got myself to sit down and write long enough to actually complete something. So, thank you. You guys are some of the kindest people I've met.

Sorry to get sentimental on y'all. Now, let's give Adam and Luci a happy ending :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He practiced everything on the way over here. What to say, how to act, and he even scouted out a quiet place for him and Adam to go. He just had to execute this. Perfectly.

He took a deep breath and walked up the small staircase to the mansion's entrance, giving a few quick, sharp knocks.

"ADAM! GET OFF YOU LAZY ASS AND ANSWER THE DOOR!" Mammon's voice carried really well. There was some running around and Adam opened the front door.

"Hi..." Adam whispered, smiling softly. "I started losing hope..."

"I'm sorry, it took a little longer than expected..." Lucifer said softly, cupping Adam's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great, now that you're here..."

Lucifer smiled, quickly dropping it once he noticed the scarf wrapped tightly around Adam's neck. "What happened?"

"I'd...rather not talk about it..."

Lucifer nodded softly.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?!"

Adam pushed his hand away and turned into the house. "ITS LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"IT'S THE KING OF HELL! GET OVER HERE!"

Lucifer had never seen Mammon move that fast. He was at the front door in a matter of seconds, a scowl on his face. "The fuck you want, you walking asshole?"

Now to put the plan in action. He gave a big, nervous smile and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, so I had to have a meeting with Sera, and she found out that Adam isn't up in Pride anymore. And, you know Sera. She through a bitch fit and demanded Adam gets put back where he belongs."

"He's not going back with you," Mammon growled.

Lucifer held up his hands defensively. "I know! Believe me, I don't want him in my Ring! But if he's not there, then Sera might wreck havoc and..." Crap what was he gonna say?! He practiced this 20 times! "Destroy all of Hell..." That wasn't what he was supposed to say.

Mammon raised a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Now he had to commit. "I mean, you know Sera. Takes the smallest thing and blows them out of proportion."

Mammon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Bitch still hasn't changed a bit, huh?"

Yes, he bought it! "Sadly, no. So, I just need to take Adam for a month or two back to my Ring. Once Sera calms down, I'll talk to her and make her realize that it's better if he's down her with you. Sound good?"

Mammon sighed. He was obviously pissed off and hesitant. "Just a couple of months?"

"And he'll be all yours," Lucifer said with a smile. "Forever and ever..."

Mammon rolled his eyes. "You better fix it. Quick." He turned to Adam. "Go get your shit. You're going to stay with Lucifer for a while." He shut the door in Lucifer's face.

Lucifer let out a hefty sigh, feeling his heartbeat slow down as panic subsided. Thank God, he bought it...

Adam left a few minutes later, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and gripping his guitar case with a death grip. He raced down the steps and Lucifer ran after him, trying to keep his pace as they left the mansion grounds.

"I thought you said I wouldn't have to go back," Adam said softly.

"You won't. Follow me." Lucifer walked the dirty streets of Greed, holding Adam's hand and leading him along until he found a quiet alley way. He led him deep, until they couldn't see the road.

"What are we doing down here?" Adam asked nervously.

"We just need some privacy." Lucifer let go of his hand and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

Adam stared at him, shocked and confused. "Is that..."

"A Luciferian crystal." He paused, watching Adam intensely. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not gonna take this from you. This is yours to keep, Adam. I just need to show you how to use it, then it's all yours. I won't take it back. I promise."

Adam nodded. Although from the look on his face, you could tell he didn't believe him.

Lucifer put it on. "It's really simple, actually." He turned around and held up the crystal, looking back to make sure Adam was watching. "All you have to do is think about where you want to go and draw a pentagram." He used the tip of his nail to draw a pentagram on the flat surface of the crystal, watching the bight red lines etching their way into the crystal. When he finished, a portal opened up to Gluttony, right outside Bee's mansion.

"That's Gluttony," Lucifer explained as Adam stared in awe. "Bee has really good parties."

Adam didn't say anything.

Lucifer started getting uncomfortable. "If you want to get rid of the portal, all you gotta do is wipe it away." He made sure Adam was watching and he wiped the pentagram off the crystal, and the portal closed in the blink of an eye. "And that's just how it is. Think of where you wanna go, draw the pentagram, and wipe it away once you pass through." He took off the crystal and held it out to Adam, but he didn't grab it.

"Adam..." Lucifer gently took his hand and placed the crystal in it. "I'm not going to take it from you. I genuinely want you to have this."

"Why?" Adam asked, looking confused.

"Because after everything I did, after everything I said to you... This is the least I can do..."

Adam still seemed nervous and hesitant, but he gave him a smile.

Lucifer smiled back gently. "Can I show you one more thing?"

"Sure..."

"I was able to set up a spawn point or homing beacon of sorts on the crystal." Lucifer gently opened his hand, showing the flat surface of the crystal. "If you're ever running around the Rings and you need a place you know is safe, just think about home and draw the pentagram." He drew it for Adam and watched a portal open up into a red room.

Adam just stared, like he didn't want to believe this was real.

"It's safe. Trust me." As if to prove a point, Lucifer fell backwards into the portal and landed on the hard ground on the other side. Adam just stepped through, looking around cautiously.

Lucifer quickly jumped to his feet and carefully wiped away the pentagram. "Don't forget to do that. You don't know who will follow you through."

"Got it," Adam said, gripping the crystal tightly when he was done. "So... Where are we?"

"At my palace. I have a bunch of spare rooms, more than what I know to do with. So I turned one into a guest room for you," Lucifer said. "If you're ever scared, if you need a place to stay that you know is safe, or if you just need a break, then you can come here and stay as long as you want. I won't touch anything in here, I won't mess with any of your stuff. You can use any of the palace amenities, and I won't ask you to do anything while you're here." He watched Adam examine the bare room closely, as if he was looking for something. "Sorry if it's not that flashy. I thought it would be better if you decorated it since-"

"What's the catch?" Adam cut him off.

"Huh?" Lucifer looked confused.

"What's the catch?" Adam repeated. "There has to be some kind of catch."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean? There is no catch." Lucifer looked just as confused as Adam.

"You can't be this nice just because. There's something in it for you."

Lucifer sighed softly. "Adam. Trust me when I saw this. I don't want anything from you. I just want you to be safe."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you. More than I probably should... After everything you went through, you need a place that you know is safe, and the only place I thought of was here. And with the crystal, you can go anywhere you want in Hell at a moments notice. It's not exactly the freedom you had up in Heaven, but it's close enough, right?"

Adam said nothing, his expression unreadable as he looked away from Lucifer and down at the pure white crystal in his hands.

"I'll let you get settled in...." Lucifer turned and left the room. He walked down the quiet halls, but it felt different than before. Just having Adam here, it made his home feel warmer. It made Lucifer feel calm. I mean, Adam was probably never going to use the room, but just the idea that he could be here anytime... It made him smile.

He heard a gentle knock as he passed by the front door. Confused, he went over and opened it a crack to see who it was.

"Charlie?" He asked, swinging the door wide open. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I stay with you for a while?" She asked as she sobbed.

"Of course, baby! Come in, I'll get you bags." He gently ushered her inside and grabbed the few bags she brought, leading her up to her old bedroom. She was silent, except for the occasional sob, sitting on her bed while Lucifer started to unpack some of her clothes and belongings.

The silence was eating him up. Charlie was rarely ever like this. And judging from the puffy eyes, she had been crying for days. He carefully sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"What happened, duckling?" He asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Charlie started cry harder than ever. "I don't know, Dad! I don't know why I've been acting like this! Everything was going so well with the hotel and Adam then Cameron came around and started framing Adam and I just got so mad and everything went out of control and Vaggie left and I kicked you out and Angel ran away and Alastor left and if Alastor leaves then Husk and Nifty leave too and I was all alone and I just couldn't take it! I'm a failure!"

"Charlie, sweetie, you're not a failure," he said, pulling her closer. "You're just.... Maybe you like Lilith."

"H-Huh?" She wiped her eyes, smearing days-old makeup on her face.

"I mean, you know I have some form of anxiety, and I passed that onto you. Your mother never really showed it, but she had some kind of mood disorder. I wanna say she was bipolar, but I'm not a doctor so I can't diagnose."

"Am I broken?"

"No, no, Charlie. You're not broken," he said reassuringly. "You just need some help. You still have that human disguise, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Wonderful. I'll get an appointment set up and I can take you up to Earth so you can get a diagnosis from a good, trusted doctor, and some good meds to help. Not the shit that Belle has. Maybe set you up with a therapist, too."

Charlie seemed to calm down at that. "I thought you couldn't go to Earth..."

"Charlotte, I'm the King of Hell. I can fo whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want. If I want to go up to Earth to help my daughter, I will." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Get some rest, duckling. I'll make your favorite tonight."

Charlie smiled and hugged him. "You're the best, Dad... I'm sorry for kicking you out..."

Lucifer hugged back tightly. "You had every right to, Charlie. I promised you I would never take them again and I broke that promise."

"You just needed help," Charlie tried to reason.

"And I could've gone somewhere else for that help. I didn't have to go to Auntie Belle." He kissed her forehead and pulled away. "Now get some rest. Seriously. You look exhausted."

Charlie gave him a weak smile and laid down on her bed, easily succumbing to sleep.

Lucifer just smiled and left the room. Finally, after all the shit of the past year, things finally started looking up...

This may be the conclusion of the Bad Day Arc (if you wanna call it that) but not the end of the story! There will be more fics around this storyline, that I shall not reveal because I wanna be a sneaky bitch :3 Mostly, I'm writing it for me, because I will take every excuse to shove my ocs where they don't belong (and none of the previous characters were ocs. I just asked friends to name them for one-off jokes and shit). I will shove my ocs into there like shoving a square into a circle hole

[arias-archive]

!SO THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT TUMBLR WAS SO GLITCHY AND DELETED THAT ENTIRE DRAFT SO I DONT HAVE THE REQ ANYMORE BUT IT WAS JUST ASKING FOR AN ALISA ORTEGA FALLING FOR A SPANISH DUDE!

a/n: as soon as I seen this req I jumped in excitement. alisa ortega is my baby and she deserves so much more attention. I HOPE U ENJOY THIS (also I used google to help me with some of the Spanish translations so if any of it is wrong please just correct me! 🙏🏽)

warnings:

description: alisa doesn’t do vacations, she doesn’t need them. why would she willingly take more time away from work than she needs to. but of course avery would force her to get away so she could deal with the news of a recent engagement, and the heartbreak of her own failed one.

tig masterlist | masterlist

tarado y firecracker (an alisa x oc fic)

Alisa Ortega caught herself glaring down at her hands again, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing against her ring finger. Angrily, she unclasped her hands and took a few deep breaths. 

She didn’t know why she kept doing it. A bad habit really. The finger had been bare for ages, the ring a fading memory from her busy mind. 

It was official. Nash Westbrook Hawthorne was engaged, again. To none other than Avery’s elder sister, Libby Grambs.

The news still stung viciously, prodding at hastily healed wounds hidden within her.

She had seen the signs. It was obvious that this was going to happen. It shouldn’t affect her because she was over her own failed engagement. Seriously, she was. But Alisa had to admit that the idea of Libby Grambs had offended her, with her electric hair and unique style. She was everything Alisa Ortega could not be. Everything that Nash needed. 

The cityscape passed by in a colourful blur as the taxi sped towards her hotel. Madrid really  was beautiful at night. She hadn’t been to Spain since she was a little girl, since her mother had died.

Enough, she scolded herself mentally. That wasn’t what she was supposed to be thinking of. She wasn’t supposed to think of anything really- in Avery’s words.

Just a small break. That’s what the Hawthorne Heiress had insisted. Alisa had refused vehemently, claiming she was fine and that there was work to be done and that Avery couldn’t be left to her own devices, but Avery was adamant. She could be extremely pushy when she wanted. Avery had arranged everything for her and all but forced her onto the plane. 

Avery had confiscated all of Alisa’s work, and added some threats too. All she was left with was her phone but Avery had also added a no work rule to that too. Deny as she might, Alisa knew that Avery was only concerned about her. But she didn’t need to be. It didn’t affect her. 

She spent the rest of the car journey just familiarising herself with the city, blocking out all Hawthorne-related thoughts. That didn’t stop her from tracing her ring finger though. She couldn’t stop the underlying hurt beneath her stoic demeanour. It must’ve been obvious for Avery to send her on a short break. 

Eventually, the taxi pulled to a stop. She thanked the driver before pushing open the door, stepping out into the hot night air and glancing up at the luxurious hotel. Hell, it really was beautiful. 

She didn’t even notice when her driver had rounded the car, wheeling her suitcase beside him. She thanked him again, giving him the necessary money before walking towards the hotel. 

Her body was on autopilot as she entered the lobby, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat she left outside. A concierge took her suitcase up to her room as she went to the front desk to retrieve her room keycard. Her feet took her into the elevator, wanting nothing more than to just fall into bed and sleep off her pain and exhaustion.

She entered the room, her suitcase waiting outside for her. She pressed the card against the lock and pushed open the door, wheeling the luggage inside. Using the toe of her stiletto, she nudged the door shut. 

The room was gorgeous, which was nothing compared to the breathtaking view outside but she still drew the curtains closed. 

Alisa didn’t allow herself to collapse into bed yet, forcing herself to shower at least order room service before she slept. See, she was completely fine. Not thinking about Nash, or Libby, or even her mother. Definitely. 

She quickly showered, dried her hair and even ate half of her food before sliding into bed. She grabbed her phone from her bag to check her messages, or lack thereof. Only a single message waited for her, Avery asking if she had gotten to the hotel okay. No other messages. 

She didn’t know what she actually expected, her phone was always empty. She liked the lack of disturbances. She didn’t have any social media apps or anything like that, and only those close to her actually had her number. But this loneliness felt different; something closer to isolation.

Alisa Ortega wasn’t one for crying. Not that she was completely emotionless either, but the hurt she felt usually just sank deeper into the well of her heart. So when she felt the ache of tears stinging her eyes, she couldn’t hold them back. 

Clutching her pillow tightly to her face, she cried. Every sob was sharp like shattered glass, and maybe that’s what she was, too broken to consider fixing. Her exterior was jagged and sharp but underneath it all, she ached, so badly.

None of this was fair. When would she finally get peace? When would the pain and confusion just stop? When was it her turn to find the person? 

She had believed that Nash was her person, the light in her dark life, but he had just ended it. Left her as if the entire thing meant nothing. Didn’t he care about her? 

She just wanted to make everyone proud. Her parents, the firm, Mr. Hawthorne, Nash. She threw herself into work because it was what she was raised to do, her only talent in the cruel world. Nash had begged her to step away from it all, but how could she? People relied on her, people still relied on her. 

It must’ve hurt Nash to leave her behind, but she knew it would’ve killed her if she had to leave everything behind. She just couldn’t. 

As she finally fell into a dreamless sleep, it wasn’t Nash she dreamt of, or her work, or even her mother. She dreamt virtually nothing, a rarity in the chaos of her mind. She welcomed the emptiness, found herself enjoying the feeling of floating for a bit, before she felt too untethered from reality. She screamed and clawed her way back, but her mind had her trapped in that empty abyss, searching for something where she couldn’t see anything.

It felt a little bit like letting go. 

~~~~~~~~

The first full day of her trip, she refused to step outside the bounds of the hotel, curling up in her room feeling sorry for herself, because she’d never allowed herself to feel like this before.

The second day was also spent throwing herself a pity party until late afternoon which is when she forced herself to get ready for the rest of day, because whether she’d like it or not, she was going to go out and explore. 

As a consequence of her unwavering commitment to the firm, she scarcely went on vacations. As a result, she had practically no “proper outfits” in her wardrobe that was suited for a trip. Her closet mainly consisted of expensive power suits and heels. She complained as much to Avery, who then bought her an entirely new selection to choose from.

She wrinkled her nose at most of the outfits, unable to see herself wearing any of them really. Since the day was practically gone now, she supposed she could walk around the city to find a nice restaurant or something. She could do with some different food other than the same meal she kept ordering to her room. 

She opted for a knee-length dress, which fit her tanned-complexion like a glove. The material was almost as dark as her hair, that was left just curled around her shoulders. She threw on a thin jacket over it, not wanting to risk overheating outside.

The sun was just beginning to set when she finally finished getting ready. Now all, there was left to do was wait for her taxi to drop her off to the town centre. She wanted nothing more than to run back into the safety of her room but she forced herself to wait. 

How often did Alisa let herself actually have a break, let herself feel anything less than unshakably confident and poised? Never. She couldn’t let this holiday go to waste, even if she didn’t want to be here in the first place.

~~~~~~

She hadn’t realised how much she longed to be back in crowded towns, sampling every small dish offered and hearing the locals happily play music down the streets, to just hear her language spoken easily. 

Alisa couldn’t decide where she wanted to go. Everything smelled deliciously appetising and looked so appealing that she ended up just walking down the cobble-lined streets, unsure of where to actually go. She just walked around, taking it all in. 

She was so entranced by everything that she didn’t even notice the man walking in front of her, that she all but crashed into. What was wrong with her? 

Immediately, strong hands latched around her biceps to steady her. She looked up, embarrassed, ready to apologise for whoever she just walked into. As she locked eyes with the stranger, she involuntarily sucked in a breath. 

He had startlingly, beautiful eyes, the same deepened-brown as hers. Was it even normal for men to have that kind of nice eyes? His startlingly, beautiful brown eyes trailed down her approvingly. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. Was he checking her out? Whatever.

“Lo siento mucho,” Alisa apologised, unable to pull her gaze away from him. Fine, since he was checking her out, she had no choice but to check him out. He was decent looking, his tanned complexion mirroring her own, his own dark hair slightly curled up and falling over his forehead in a way that made her want to push it back with her fingers. Easy girl. 

“Está bien, no pasa nada,” Hot-Spanish-Guy replied with a charming smile, clearly designed to make women swoon at his feet. She was not one of those women. Yes, he was hot, but so what? Good for him. 

She angrily pulled her eyes away from his, thanking him again before marching off. She wasn’t even sure why she was so angry. She just wanted food and someone, preferably a lot of it. 

She had only made it like ten steps down the street before she heard footsteps fall in time with her own. “Excuse me, miss,” the handsome stranger piped up, looking over at her. “No entendí tu nombre.” 

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you,” she responded evenly, keeping her eyes on the restaurants lining the streets. 

Instead of taking the hint, Hot-Spanish-Guy only chuckled and kept up with her even faster footsteps. “Woah, there. Slow down,” he chuckled in slightly-accented English. 

“I have places to be,” Alisa threw back, rolling her eyes. What a creep, following her around like this. Like come on. 

“Unless you’re heading to a play park, you’re going the wrong way.” 

That didn’t make Alisa slow down in the slightest. “And just how would you know where I’m going, tarado?”

He rolled her eyes at the teasing nickname, laughing off her attempted jab in good humour. “Well, firecracker,” he snickered, “I’ve seen you walk down this street about ten times now. Admit it, you’re lost.”

That did make Alisa slow down and fully stop, crossing her arms and turning her fiery glare on him. “So you’re basically just a creep then?” 

Hot-Spanish-Guy shrugged playfully, leaning in slightly closer, mischief sparkling in those dreamy eyes. “Are you lost, firecracker?” 

“No, I’m not lost,” she huffed out, tempted to just punch him. Why was he so annoying, and why was she wanting to keep talking to him. This was maddening. 

“Then why are you wandering around like a stray cat?” He asked curiously, close enough that she could see the slight shadow of stubble smattering his jaw. 

“I am not!” She defended haughtily, crossing her arms even tighter against her chest.

“Woah, woah,” he replied, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “I’m only offering to give you help, seeing as you all but bumped into me.”

“Well, thank you, but I don’t need your help.” And with that, she turned on her heels and walked the other way, back up the street. 

She heard the man snort behind her but to her surprise, he didn’t follow her. Good. That’s how it should be.

She must’ve walked the streets a couple more times, still extremely indecisive on where to go. She stopped outside one restaurant and was contemplating just going in now when she was stopped by an annoying whistle.

The handsome stranger was leaning against a lamp pole outside the restaurant, just watching her. She opened her mouth to curse him out when he spoke first. “That isn’t nearly as good as that one there,” he said, punctuating his sentence by pointing her finger to the restaurants.

“And I would care, because…” she responded with an eye roll, tempted to just go into the restaurant to spite him. But the other place he pointed out was actually her second choice. Damn him.

“I got food poisoning from here once,” he answered, pushing himself off the lamp post and swaggering his way over to her. “Just trust me.”

“Whatever,” she gritted out, turning to go to the other restaurant that he pointed out. She had literally walked two entire steps before he called out again.

“Wait!” He said, falling into step beside her. “You aren’t going to eat dinner alone, are you?” His arrogant, charming smirk looked so punchable. Why did he care what she was going to do? 

“Why?” She grumbled irritably. She was so close to just biting his head off now.

“Because it would be improper of me to make you eat alone,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it was his idea that she even eat dinner. “I insist that you eat with me.”

Alisa looked aghast, her jaw open in shock and annoyance. “What?” She practically sputtered out. “I don’t think so.”

Hot-Spanish-Guy only raised a brow and narrowed his eyes playfully. “Why? Meeting a boyfriend?” He had his arms crossed now too, imitating the feisty woman he only met like ten minutes ago.

“No!” She huffed out defensively, before she couldn’t even think of a proper response. “I don’t even know your name, or who you are for that matter.”

She started to walk off again, her heels clacking against the cobblestones beneath her, market lights glinting off the pathway. Then another pair of shoes joined the mix.

“Mateo Cardenas.” He extended his hand, holding out in front of her teasingly. “And no time to get to know one another over food, wouldn’t you agree?” 

She glared at his hand incredulously, looking around to see if any other people passing-by noticed this strange interaction.

He offered his hand again, more insistently with a teasing smile on his face. “I promise I won’t bite, unless of course, you want me t-“ 

She smacked his extended hand hard for that stupid comment. “But why?” She asked, hesitantly, tracing his face for any signs that this might be just a silly prank. “Wanting to have dinner with me, that is.”

Mateo cocked his head to one side, poking his cheek with his tongue before speaking, looking more serious this time. “I wanted company, and you look like you needed some but if you really don’t want to, I’ll go. I’m only playing around, I don’t mean any harm.”

Her scowl slightly softened at that. He was a compelled pain in the ass, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t considered actually taking him up on his offer.

It was ridiculous. She usually didn’t care for teasing boys and their stupid comments. And she placed the blame on the heartache, the loneliness or even the damn hunger that forced her to extend her own manicured hand, shaking his reluctantly. “Fine, I suppose. You get one dinner.”

That caused Mateo to break out in an even bigger grin, if possible. “You won’t regret it.”

~~~~~~~~

That dinner was perfect really. The best meal she ever had. And so was the company, whether she willingly admitted it or not.

Mateo was really nice, and he seemed genuine. He had shared a lot about himself during the dinner, not minding that Alisa only revealed slight details of her own life.

As it turned out, Mateo only moved to Spain recently, but he was visiting Madrid for the same reason she was, a small break. Completely coincidentally, he was staying in the exact same hotel that Alisa was. She almost found herself laughing in disbelief at that.

As much as Alisa insisted, he paid for the dinner in full, seeing as ‘it was his idea anyway.’

And she had gotten his number, courtesy of his continuous pestering after she had admitted she enjoyed that she actually enjoyed the dinner.

She really enjoyed just listening to him talk. She honestly forgot how nice it was to just have somebody to talk to. She used to have He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Seeing-As-He’s-Engaged-To-Another-Woman, but since then, she has had nobody. And despite not even knowing Mateo for that long, his company just felt right. 

After dinner, he took her exploring around the town, pointing out good locations to eat from, or to shop from. She had never almost-smiled as much with another guy before but she seriously was close to on several occasions. 

She forcefully paid for their taxi back to the hotel, much to his protests because ‘a lady should never pay for anything’. She told him to shut up. He shut up. The journey back was filled with a bit more easy chatter. It was awkward at some points, but Alisa really was trying. 

She was completely out of her comfort zone here. Her ex-fiancé was the only other boy she’d ever loved romantically, and she had known him since she was a baby. She didn’t have to introduce herself to him, go through the stilted small-talk stages.

But for the sake of this break, of doing stuff for the hell of it. She really was going to try.

~~~~~~~~

Much to her semi-annoyance, he practically demanded that he walk her up to her room, as the ‘gentlemen’ he claimed he was. 

After chatting her ear off the entire elevator ride, he smiled charmingly as he dropped her off at her door. Alisa thanked him again and tried again to push money into his hand for the meal but he wasn’t taking it. 

She cursed at him again, to which he only grinned at. She fumbled around in her handbag to retrieve her room keycard, pressing it against the lock and pushing the door open. 

She could’ve just said goodbye and shut the door. But she didn’t.

Her heart thundered wildly, taking deep breaths to try and slow it down. She turned back around, and before she could lose the nerve, she called out to his retreating back. “Same time tomorrow, tarado?” 

Her feet felt rooted to the spot, unsure if she made a horrible mistake and read the situation completely wrong. What if this ends up horribly? What if he didn’t want a second dinner? What if-

He turned back around, a look of pure happiness seeded into his gorgeous grin. “I thought you’d never ask, firecracker.”

And Alisa actually smiled at that, a fleeting, excited smile.

She waved him off and shut the door behind her, sinking back against it. She caught her lower lip between her teeth at the thought of tonight. 

Only yesterday was she bawling her eyes out over her own failures, yet today, she was starting some, hopefully, new beginnings. 

But this time, she had nothing to prove, to anyone. This time, she wanted to put her own desires above anything else. 

She pushed away from the door just in time to check the buzzing vibrations of incoming texts into her phone. She actually beamed when she saw the number. God, she really was screwed.

[natskys-w]

Hello.. Can you write a Grayson Hawthorne story where he starts feeling sick in the middle of a foundation event? Maybe then Oren/Alisa/one of his brothers will notice and take care of him..

Can l write? No no can't... Did l try yes

You have been warned from this point forward, proceed at your own discretion ⚠️

A soft clink of a glass brought brought the chatter of the hall to a soft murmur over  excited tables eager to hear the opening speech 

Alisa voice rang clear and warmly over the speaker. 

“Welcome, it is wonderful to see so many familiar faces joining us for the birth of this heart felt project that has been years in the making“ She smiled brightly at the guests, then turned her gaze to the Hawthorne table letting her pride shine through before continuing with the speech.

At the Hawthorne table things where going as planned, in order not a hint of chaos or mayhem… of course. Yep not a hint of chaos

Grayson prepped to join Alisa, Jameson waved and gave  dazzling smiles to guests that looked to them. Avery listened intently also ready to speak, Xander discreetly fed his recently acquired friend that nestled in his pocket. Whilst Nash distracted Libby from getting nervous with an origami puzzle trick.

 

Grayson went over his speech softly murmuring and repeating it to himself in order to get his head in the game. He would not let a stupid flue get in the way of all the hard work that went into ensuring this gala was a success anything less then perfect was unacceptable and it was his responsibility to represent his fami- damn it this hall was hot, how was nobody sweating was he sweating. The sharp drilling pain in his head grew as the crowd clapped at something Alisa said.

Wait was it his turn? No no to early, maybe-

“Gray, Grayson, are you okey? You don't look to good… “

Averys voice brought him back, everyone concerned gaze was on him. Nash leaned towards him

“Hey you wanna take a minute”

“No, I'm fine” he replied his stomach did a backflip 

“You look like a soggy egg sandwich that's been left in the sun.” Xander quipped 

Nash got up to go round Greysons side

“That's it come on up ya go” He hauled him up  like a sack of potatoes “let's take a little trip to the bathroom before our table and flowers go from lilac white to muddy yellow.”

“I'm fine” 

“Yeah yeah, come on.” Nash said as he discreetly led him away to the bathroom.

“What the hell did he eat?” 

“Maybe we should go with him”

“Is everyone looking at us it feels like everyone's looking at us.”

“psst Jameson, look at the picture l took, he looks like the Jack Nicholson in the snow meme ”

“Everybody stay calm” libby chirped in a sing song voice trying not to panic.

“Libby seriously it's fine, l'm sure Greyson will be back soon l'll take over for Gra- AW what thefuck-” 

Jameson swore bringing up his blood finger

“Xander?” Jameson asked

“Mmh”

“What just bit me?”

“Mr Gizmo Wayne Hawthorne the I”

“And what exactly is Mr Gizmo Wayne Hawthorne the first?”

“I believe he's a fruit bat although he's the size of a kitti's hog nosed bat. Interesting enough the-”

“You brought a bat!” Avery squeaked lowering her voice when the table next to them gave them a curious look and Alisa gave them a jovial nervous glance and made a joke that drew everyone's attention back to her.

“Why is he even here? He's ugly, rude and may have more disease then the CDC. What if he's what made Grayson sick?“ 

A little nose and beady eyes glared at Jameson from Xanders pocket and made a series of grumbling sounds.

“Oh Lord, l need to go warn Nash.” Libby dashed off

“Hey! For your information he has a clean bill of health, l checked him out myself. Thank you. As for why he's here he's family, plus thanks to the project, the research facility he came from is shut down and no longer needed. Look at that little face, would this face not encourage you to donate”

Avery wrapped Jamesons fingers and peaked at the wound trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Xander?! Okey guys thats it, we're all heading to the toilets. We need to disinfect your wound, let Nash and Oren know what's going on and get Mr Wayne whatever his name away, far away from the guests.” 

They scurried off to the bathroom, where upon opening the men's room the sound of someone violently throwing up greeted them. Libby leaned against the sink as she bit her nails, looking into the fancy stall where Nash was holding Graysons head back and rubbing his back softly on the floor.

Like he did when they were children.

“Xander, l ALWAYS KNEW you would KILL ME just not like THIS” Greyson grumbled 

“Remember what mum always  says negative emotions. Will make you sicker, exhale that negativity on three.” Xander replied as Nash gave him a warning stare.

“l can just  see the headlines, Hawthorne heirs taken to soon by deadly infection… maybe ebola or Marburg…  with how Grayson is looking…

 Cause of death rat with wings”

“Your not helping.” Nash reprimed

“Besides aren't we getting ahead of ourselves-”

“See thank you, that's what l've been saying, sorry go on” Xander interrupted 

“As l was saying, before we call the CDC again let's go through all the steps. I already informed Oren, Libby has the emergency bag, We're running our blood and what we can test for has come back negative so Jameson, no  you do not have Marburg or Ebola. Someone's already on the way to double check, okey?” He said as he got more tissue to wipe Some of the sweat off Grayson and rested him on his shoulder.

Avery finished off washing Jamesons hand and was dealing with the wound as he asked 

“Nash?”

“Jameson, yes”

“If we're quarantined, can it be in the LA station?”

Avery gave him a light shove.

“Jameson what did l just say!”

“What it could still be Ebola or something new given Mr Gizmo Wayne hawthorne the I previous home.”

“He has nothing to do with this” Xander protested, bringing him out of his pocket and cradling him to his chest. “He's probably cleaner then anyone in this room.” He murmured cooing at his little friend, that Grayson glared at.

“We're gonna die and a movies gonna be made about this day, with Xander as patient 0 like that Contagion movie”  Grayson groaned “l need to go give me speech.”

“Grayson seriously not you to”

[kcuf-ad]

Just read a fic where the entire thing is just Mollie bashing and I kid you not wrote shit like, "A disgusting straight couple with Ollie, instead of a beautiful lesbian couple with Libby." and I am just like, shut the hell up. How old are you? You are writing shit like what would a 13 year old write because their favourite fic wasn't canon- OH WAIT!

Seriously, it is fine if you don't like the ship, but for fuck sake, grow the fuck up.

[gardens-of-may]

ENTRY ONE - beginning to chap. 15

spoilers ahead

i���m terrified im literally shitting my pants and i haven’t even started yet 

okay 😭

adulting!?

heheh 🤭 

love the knife

awww xanders so nice to what

ohhh since alisa moved avery when she was dying 

hm

see i already kinda accidentally spoiled the wine cellar scene 

oops?

JAMIE 😍😍

oh my goddddd

naked = knead

what

i LOVE the relationship between nash and avery 

it’s like way older brother

which is basically exactly what it is

J H  WE N DE N SEE QH

wait a minute 

NEVERMIND SJSJSJWKE

he’s such a bitch

what the fuck are you then? a cat?

i guess he isn’t a bitch

JDJDSJEJ

oh hi 😐

STOP

this is homework on her birthday 

this is so much less fun when you spoiled it for yourself 

BITCH TIME 😜😜

i’ve heard that she makes people wanna gouge their eyes out 

hmmm

eugh

OH MY GOD 

BITCH YOUBWERENY STOPPISED TI SER VER

well have fun

nvm im still confused 

you’re not the only person ever who was ever pissed lady

AVERY GET HIM OUT BEFORE THE SHE DEVIL SNATCHES HIM 

no

what are they yapping about? 😣

gray, i need you to run

i thought you js met him???

what is happening?

yay he saved a toddler (yay good fr )

WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING???

xander seriously 

i love max

OH MY GOSH REALLY GRAY 😮

that was part sarcasm but part shock

XANDER THATS CHEATING

😒😒😒

what are you doing gray?

personally, if i looked like my dead relative that emotionally manipulated someone, i wouldn’t use it to my advantage 

that’s js kinda weird 

“Heaven forbid Jameson Hawthorne get caught openly caring about his brother”

i know right

NASH AND LIBBY 🥰🥰

stop stop right now huh

that’s scary

is that written in blood?

avengers?

iron man? captain america? 

i’m dying here okay?

NOT THAT FUCKING PLACE

i love nash

SO MUCH

stfu eve you have no say

nash and xander’s relationship is so funny 

what 

“How does that classic proverb go?” Jameson mused. “You’re not the boss of me? It’s something like that. No, wait, I remember! It’s You’re not the boss of me, wanker.”

why did i read that in a british accent? 😭

they’re so unserious 

OOOOHHHHH

ooh shut up eve

end of chap. 14

[naivesilver]

I'M LATE TO THIS BECAUSE I WAS PLAYING ONLINE MINI GOLF SORRY

Anyway, an ask that allows me to gush about your fic????? sign me the FUCK up <3

My favourite fic of yours:

WHERE do I even begin with this, seriously??? I think that, technically speaking, your 25k Lampwick fic is your best fic (or, at least, your best pinocchio-adjacent fic, because sadly I do not read anything that isn't related to him in some capacity, but I have no doubt that your other works are just as high quality 💕). The premise...the pacing... the care taken to properly explore him as a character........fuck, it's SO good.

Two Stars will also obviously hold a very special place in my heart (SO so beloved).

However, I still think that 'to love (with little to your name)' is, well, unbeatable here. It truly is one of your best works. Eugene's chapter within this fic had me bouncing off the walls and gnawing at table legs. (It was also THEE chapter that really re-wired my brain when it came to Eugene and I have been Not Normal about the square boy ever since, as you're well aware.

BUT not ONLY does it have a Eugene chapter, it also has the Scalawags (THEE first chapter of the fic and I KNEW it was gonna be good when we started with that, holy shit) and Leona?? Leona my BELOVED HELLO???? This fic just means so much to me. It's made me laugh pretty hard from time to time (thank you Pierrot and Mignon in particular for that (ALSO I NEARLY FORGOT THAT THE CHAT FIC WAS PART OF THIS???? BELOVED HELLO?????) and it's also made me want to chew my own arm off (affectionate).

What I'm saying is, thank you for this verse in general, but particularly for this fic within the thousand problems series 💖 It has affected my brain permanently.

3. The best character you've written for:

SO, I would argue that the Scalawags (yes, all three) could take this crown. Because?? how the HELL do you take something as awful (for a multitude of reasons) as EotN and transform these characters into such likeable and three dimensional people with these incredibly well thought out backstories. It blows my mind!!!!!

I also love the way you write Lampwick. And also Eugene but DUH I could talk all day about the way you write Eugene because I am mentally unwell about him.

If we're talking about characters that aren't technically OCs? Then I've gotta say that I love the way you write Regina 💖 You do a fabulous job with her, truly.

6. Something I remember vividly from reading one of your fics:

A lot of your imagery in your fic has stuck with me (things like the green description of the chapel in eyeteeth), but I guess that there are just loads of general little details and snippets from various fics here and there that still cross my mind without warning. I still remember the opening scene of choice on the beach really well for some reason. The patchwork quilt. The little handstand that Igor did to make Twinkle laugh. Pierrot's 'nun of my business' joke. idk I've told you this a million times before but....It's the little character details that fuck me up the most and that make your fics so damned enjoyable to read.

7. What made me the most emotional after reading

'when you know the makers hand'. That fic fUCKS ME UP, okay???? Because of course it does!!!! Also, spell of shattered sight fic fucks me up in a similar way (it's about.......August and his relationship with his father........). Lose my mind every time I read either of them.

13. If i've ever shared/talked about your fic to someone else

well DUH. I'm abnormal about your little guys ofc I have to talk to other people about them every now and then <3

💗💗💗💕💕💕

LIBBY SHUT UP 😭😭😭💓💓💓 I saw you play golf but really, you could have stayed playing - I wouldn't even have been bad, you're already too good to me during normal chats, you COULD have skipped that. But since you're here now!!!! Let's go 😏😏😏

Fanfic Asks (For The Askers)

1.My favourite fic of yours

Did I expect this? Yes. Did it STILL make me emotional? ALSO YES!!!! The big Lampwick fic started an avalanche of content that to this day fills me with EXTREME joy, and Two Stars is the one thing I was still shy about gifting to you (because WOW COOL WRITER IS GOING BRRRR WITH ME WHAT DO I DO), but the kids! The kids!!!!!! I'm so happy about this world that has blossomed to life and expanded into something ginormous, and it was a blessing to plant the seed with you 💖

3.The best character you've written for

You think my Regina is good? 🥺🥺🥺I will melt jsyk

Also you know what motivates me? Anger and spite. EOTN made me so fucking mad I couldn't NOT make it better (and it wasn't that hard to do, ngl). Justice for the weird little kids! They're so much more than love interests!!!!!

6.Something I remember vividly from reading one of your fics

Not much to say here, just that a lot of those scenes get rolled around my brain like a pinball marble for ages before AND after I write them, and it means the world to me that they stuck with you too 🥰🥰🥰

7.What made me the most emotional after reading

MAKER'S HAND!!!! Wow we never talk about that anymore - we do love making that man sad, don't we? Sopping wet puppet guy smh

Spell of Shattered Sight moment will be brought up again btw so don't get mad at me when it happens I warNED YOU

13.If i've ever shared/talked about your fic to someone else

YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!! And you freak out when I go on rants about your Lampwick 😡😡😡💗💗💗

[kelmenton]

ART IS SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING CONVERSATION

My views are my own, obviously.

By now everyone’s eyeballs have been subjected to AI slop. It’s inescapable. If it’s not some brainless peon on your timeline, then it’s a company with more than enough money to pay an artist to create an illustration for their advertisement but have inexplicably decided that the uncanny slop fits their image better. We’ve all seen that stupid smiling ginger dude in a taxi.

I feel more and more insane as I read news articles or posts online or listen to commentary that all seem to have missed the memo that art is not something that exists in a vacuum.

Despite what capitalism may have you believe, art is not just the product. Holding a book or a painting in your hands and saying, “This is art”, is only part of the story. The years an artist takes to learn, experiment, improve and grow, all contribute to the ‘art’, not just from the perspective of the skill and labour that goes into that, but because that journey is inextricably linked to the artist themself and the piece they have created.

You cannot completely extricate yourself from a piece of art you make. It’s impossible. You chose that colour or that turn of phrase or that power chord for a reason. Your life as a human being and your skill/experience as an artist combine to create something – a song, a story, a poem, a painting – but the product is only one element of that. Generative AI slop is just slop, stolen from others without their permission, regurgitated at great cost to the planet that we’re already destroying, so that…what? Truly, what is the end to these means? ChatGPT doesn’t love you, and it won’t fuck you. So what is the point?

“But Kel, generative AI makes art accessible.”

My first instinct is to just tell you to shut the fuck up, because I don’t believe anyone honestly, in earnest, truly believes that shite.

But if I am to take you seriously for a second, then what do you mean by that? Have you gone your entire life without ever holding a crayon? Are you somehow unable to access pencils while simultaneously able to access ChatGPT? If you have enough internet access to plagiarise Miyazaki while killing the planet, you have enough internet access to look up a YouTube tutorial. Maybe there’s even a library close to you. Maybe you can avail of services like Libby. If that’s the case, you’ll be delighted to hear that libraries let you borrow books – including books on how to draw – FOR FREE.

What do you even mean by accessible, anyway? What does accessibility mean to you? What were the barriers in your way before?

Here’s my guess: the barrier was your own fucking laziness. It was your apathy. It was your desire to be revered for something without suffering for a speck of it.

Being good at something, whether that is illustration or writing or public speaking or fucking soccer, means that you have to put in the hours. How are you championing the lie of meritocracy, the unsustainable “grindset”, the Alpha Male Way of Life My Morning Starts at 3AM bullshit, while being unable to devote yourself to any single skill long enough to get marginally better at it?

Do not pretend to care about accessibility because you fucking suck at drawing. Go out there and get good at something while you wait for the cease and desist from Ghibli.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 54 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Before you left, did you get a feel for the mood of the other humans? Their response to what they were shown?" Libby asked.

From the glance Justin's dad sent around the group, it was clear he was confused as to why a little girl was having this serious conversation with him but when nobody else spoke up he seemed to just accept it and turned his attention back to her.

"I have no idea. As soon as I woke up, I grabbed a torch and headed over here. All I cared about was finding my son."

"That's understandable, Leo."

"How did you know my name?"

"Oh, I can read your mind. Sorry. I usually lead with that."

Leo rubbed a hand over his face.

"This is all very strange."

"It's okay, dad," Justin said. "You get used to it."

Leo seemed lost in thought for a long moment.

"We're carrying a lot of wounded with us. People who won't survive. Do you think, when they die, they'll come back as well? Maybe they don't deserve to..."

"I could..." Fanner started to say and then immediately shut his mouth when he remembered just how many important people were a part of this conversation when he suddenly found himself with the full attention of all of them.

He shook his head and murmured an apology.

"You could, though," Libby said, watching him with interest.

She knew what he'd been going to say.

"Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I think we're going to have to make contact at some point and I can't imagine a better peace offering than the gift of not dying from sepsis. We'll bring your energy donors with us."

"You want to heal them?" Yore asked.

"Well..." Fanner shrugged. "Shouldn't I?"

Yore leant down so that their faces were closer together.

"Do you want to?"

Fanner nodded.

"Okay. Let's go. Kit?"

Cookie chittered from nearby and hauled herself up from the ground, which she had been licking.

There was dirt all around her mouth but she didn't seem to care.

"Are you coming with us?" Yore asked Leo.

Leo sent an uncertain glance in his son's direction.

"I just got him back. This is a war. All I want is for him to be safe."

"He will be safe," Libby promised.

"We all will be. We knocked your entire army out for like twenty minutes, remember? We can do it again if they're naughty."

"I want to go," Justin told him.

"If people see me, maybe they'll understand more."

Leo still looked reluctant.

"They might not understand. They might not be kind."

Justin shrugged.

"Then we'll leave."

Leo nodded slowly.

"Okay. If they're not nice, we'll leave."

They gathered together all of the energy donors Fanner hadn't taken from yet and they started out towards the human camp.

Halfway down the hill, Hamish came running after them.

Hamish slapped his hand down on Yore's shoulder.

"It's diplomacy time and you weren't going to bring me?"

"Sorry, Hamish," Yore said. "There are a lot of people involved and there's a lot going on. I didn't think of it."

"I'm sure you'll be helpful, though," Libby said.

She looked so young, hiking her dress up so that it didn't drag in the long grass and treading carefully over the rough terrain in shoes not designed for walking.

They could have easily moved twice as fast without her but perhaps this was a journey that was better not rushed.

"Yore, I'd like you to take the lead for me and do most of the talking once we get there."

"Don't you think you're more qualified?" Yore asked.

She waved a dismissive hand.

"Oh, astronomically. I mean, you're pretty good but you can't really beat over a hundred years of experience and the ability to read people's minds. However, I think not looking like a little girl will be more important here. Normally I don't let that matter but expecting an army of humans to take me seriously might be a bit much to ask."

"Pragmatically speaking..." Yore inclined his head in agreement.

"It's a difficult crowd."

Fanner guided them with his mage-light, a beacon in the darkness that sent confused moths fluttering up to orbit around it as they walked.

The humans could definitely see them coming but that was probably better than taking them by surprise.

Maybe.

Fanner was keenly aware that, once again, what they were doing had been his idea.

No matter how much everyone reassured him, it was hard to shake the thought that it would be his fault if things didn't work out.

But maybe putting himself in the position to feel that way held value.

Maybe it was important.

He'd never been allowed to even have ideas as a slave.

Of course he hadn't yet come to terms with, well... a lot of things.

If these ideas had been Yore's ideas, it never even would have occurred to him to blame him if they didn't work out.

Libby was right next to him and he kept expecting her to say something about how he shouldn't think the things he was thinking, but she didn't and he was grateful for that.

Maybe she just wasn't paying attention when there were so many people around or maybe she understood that sometimes the only way he could sort his thoughts out was by sieving through them.

Pushing dark thoughts to the back of his mind wouldn't make them go away.

The humans were ready for them, gathered at the edge of their camp.

Some of them held torches and many held weapons but there was a distinct lack of guns pointed at them.

Yore made his way to the front of the group and Fanner hurried to follow behind him because he felt safest in Yore's shadow.

It was Yore who broke the silence that had fallen between the two groups.

"Good evening."

[lizadale]

I take back all those awful things I said about vectors this is actually really really relaxing???

[libbywednesday]

tonight i need to hunker down and finish my outline for my fic and do some concept art for my own reference!

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Silver Exposure pt. 1

Libbys and Beetles

Written:  03 Oct 2019

Pairing: Black Female Reader x dark!Bucky Barnes

Summary:  This story is alternative universe. I set it in a time where there are still a few more Avengers post Snap.

The Silver State, you had finally arrived. Southern Nevada, dusty, with scattered shrubs and Joshua trees swept past the charter bus window. You zoned out on the fuchsia flooding rocky towers of a canyon turning the rust-colored sand stones a bright orange. The evening sunlight over the landscape would have been beautiful if you had wanted to be there. In this moment you both regretted the service call and missed your small box apartment. As the recycled sticky bus air settled in your nose and on your skin you shifted in the worn thin seat.

You kept your eyes pointed out on the dry land. Mildly relaxed in your surroundings you knew it was a temporary feeling. The further you traveled from home the more aware you became that the country was reaching a point of no return. But you were from Texas, the big country county municipality specifically, where people mostly still flourished despite influences from the Liberties. You hadn’t experienced much of the effects of the fighting there. It was highly suspected to be the seat of power for the Liberties, though you never saw evidence to support the claim.

You held from the largest amassed independent settlement. Clean water, amply supplies of energy and people, lots of them, most had arrived in the last year seeking refuge. It was a paradise compared to other parts of the country. But for the last few days of getting off and then getting back on this bus had given you perspective. Something you seriously assumed each side lacked.

You noticed that most things that passed the bus window was covered in thick black soot and filth. Unkempt, and uncared for. There were hollowed-out homes too, their skeletons poking out of the skyline of ghostly towns, ashen totems of a time that had little regard for life.  

But as the bus traveled nearer to the Bosch Settlement, dread grew and began to whip around in your chest. Far louder than the rumble of the bus helicopters cruised above and the distance buzzed drones that stroked your anxiety further.

You thought the joint armistice of the U.S. and their Liberty enemies would have been cleaner. And yet assorted shanties sprung up along the outside of the settlement. The smell inside the cabin of the bus sank into a musty odor, rank, it had you holding your nose. You looked back to the other passengers, even to the man sitting to your left. Though he did not move, instead, his warm eyes regarded you indifferently.

“Cost of war and all that shit.” He shrugged and then leaned his head back shutting his eyes. “Someone had to pay for it.” mumbled the man.

Your eyes fell to the back of the chair in front of you. Someone was paying, because now each side was losing. After the epic failure of the Avengers the country ground to an agonizing stop. Half of all life on the continent disappeared. Then when people realized it was not just the U.S. but the world and the Universe, people gave up, while others began to fight back. The country was ripe for a fight it could not handle or could truly stop.

Of course, you weren’t one of those who fought.

You had lost everything in the Blip. Your friends, your family. You were alone. There was little fight left in you to argue with the technicalities of what revenge looked like.

But other people, far more motivated, figured out the power in brutal retribution. It didn’t take a year, after the Blip the protests against government misdeeds started. Then, strategic minds took advantage of the distraction. The Liberties, libbys, named by the media, struck first. They burned empty government buildings. It did not affect you, at least, not at first.

The government reacted, banned all protests, declared martial law enacted by the remains of the US military. They swarmed in their signature gear of black shiny armor that gave them the nickname, beetles.

It only stirred the pot more by angering the Liberties. So they bombed the industrial resources; farms, ammunition supplies, water storage facilities and then factories and some of those did have people in them. That move hit you hard, it took from your community. So much for the equality and freedom they wanted. The mass attacks halted what little supplies your town could gather. And overnight any opportunity to move beyond the Blip had vanished.

Civil war erupted. Whether deliberate or not that’s what happened. And it occurred faster than anybody could have imagined. Even for the supers. It was rare to even see them out anymore. And within another year the country was shapeless with no direction and little trust from either side.

But here you were, almost five years since the Blip, you were an old hand at managing this level of anxiety you lived at now. The twist in your gut wasn’t anything compared to the first few weeks without a stable supply of water. Or seeing the most at risk starve. You lived. Though now you were much less apt to meet new people, it wasn’t shyness, it was just smart to not make friends. It was easier that way.

Both sides ruined infrastructure. Their little skirmishes, the tit for tat retaliation took their toll. Roads, hospitals, factories, and services were in desperate repair. It was already on the decline anyway without the people to work. But each side decided a short truce was in order. And at a designated area, it was in their best interest to gather the country’s greatest resource, people.

Last week the council members of the county gathered as requested, albeit ordered to do so by the Libby leaders, to choose. You didn’t want to go. Even if your existence was listless you didn’t want to lose your life over stubbornness, so you obeyed. You had skills. Before the Blip, your café was successful. Well, as great as a small town hole in the wall could be. So your records indicated as food service. That made you of use and to be of service to the cause.

You were told to bring two weeks’ worth of clothing and that toiletries would be supplied to you. But you didn’t leave it to chance so you packed light. The fear that shit could turn bad kept you still inside your head and ready for anything. Easy enough. Just like the supposed olive branch of a settlement you were being hauled off too.

They wanted clean potential workers so you tucked your best in there too. At the last rest area, you changed. And currently, the skirt you wore, rode up uncomfortably over your thighs. The exposed warm umber skin pebbled from the cold circulated air. The heels on your feet made your toes numb but you wore them regardless. Besides, you were too scared to find what your feet would find on the floor of the bus if you took them off.

Your eyes shifted back into the bus. Shades of navy and gray suits for the men, various blouses for women caught your eye again. But the man to your direct left wore a thin over-sized black jacket, gray lose pants like fatigue material and bright cobalt blue hiking boots. He was strange, a stand out within the cabin. The man appeared clean, unbothered by his surroundings. His dark tawny brown skin, glowed, not dulled by time or war it only seems to become more accentuated by the gold sharp edges of the necklace around his clavicle. Were those teeth? No, claws.

Smoothly he stroked back a few brown short, thin dreads from his forehead. He sighed, an exasperated puff of air from being watched and you quickly turned your eyes from him when he too began to look toward you.

You forced your wandering eyes back out the window. You sat like that for an hour. It was darker now, night had fallen so you concentrated on the bumpy asphalt, the trash in the ditches, and in the distance, the lights. The Bosch Settlement grew brighter. Maybe it was anticipation that bubbled in your stomach, more than likely it was the hot salami sandwich and warm water you had for lunch. Once again, avoiding the man near, your eyes darted to the other passengers. As a wave of movement carried over the crowded bus in nervous motions, they too were eager a few of them even started to gather their belongings.  

Without fail, another checkpoint sat a few yards away. The two lane highway lay heavily guarded by US military trucks for those leaving, and Libby militia terrain vehicles for those entering. There was an automatic jump in your blood pressure. You looked back out the window as the bus pulled up at the makeshift wooden and concrete stall. Libby volunteers dressed in the signature brown combat gear began to crowd around the bus.  

The bus jolted to a stop. Your head jerked with the motion as your eyes darted through the window into the dark. From the cloak of black in the desert German Sheppard’s ran before their handlers, sniffing and rooting out illegal contraband. You didn’t have anything on you. But you held your breath anyway.

The dry patch in the back of your throat moved to the roof of your mouth. Two Libby militia men boarded the bus, dressed in black with shades of muted wood and pebble. The first man in the desert fatigues pushed his way down the aisle snatching papers out of people’s hands then tossing it back at them. His automatic rifle hung down the middle of his chest occasionally clinking on the metal armrest of the passenger seats.

You tried to lean back, appear dutiful. But your eyes rushed from his gun to the people he interacted with.

Four seats away, the militia hooked his thumb at the taller bulkier companion.

“Take this one.” He shouted and moved on.

The other man quickly approached the area, he pulled across the elderly woman sitting on the other side of his target. A woman, brown-headed with tears in her eyes pleaded with the militia but he yanked her into the aisle then pushed her toward the exit.  

His voice carried to you softly, under his breath. “Relax. Don’t seize up and they won’t react.” said the man next to you.

You tongued at the dryness in your mouth. Still, you looked passed the coming figure, lost in the moment. Suddenly you realized that you were staring at a man a few seats up in the aisle.

Blue eyes, darkened but light and despite the approaching Libby, still he continued to watch you just the same.

“Papers!” said the man gruffly. “Where are they, we don’t have all fucking day.” He continued.

Breaking eye contact you hurriedly unfold the paper at the same time handing it to him. He snatched it out of your hands, his eyes read from left to right. The blond hair man looked at you then back at the paper. You were quickly unraveling at the length of time he was taking. Careful not to seem too anxious you tugged at your jacket righting yourself.

Finally, he tossed it back at you. It slipped through your fingers, hit your lap and slid into the floor. Grumbles began to start with the man directly behind you.  

“I won’t! You stupid sons of bitches.”  Cursed the older man his voice weathered and aged continued to argue. “’think you own everybody! I’m going to the Settlement for work!” He tried to speak again after that, but the sound of a hammer heating a raw roast stopped him.

“I’m..a citizen..” he moaned weakly.

You didn’t dare turn around. Your eyes flew to the window, the shadowy reflection caught your attention. The elderly man stood out the most. He was hunched over the back of his seat with the Libby cracking a smile. Boldly, a streak of blood, red glistening, dotted and smeared on the glass of the bus window.

The second militia came back on the bus, grabbed up the older man who could barely stand and dragged him off as well. The last twenty minutes of checks went much smoother. The Libby’s stepped off, the bus pulled away and you finally felt a bit of the panic subside.

When the bus finally pulled out of the checkpoint you hoped that this was the scariest this journey could possibly get. But the pang of fear in your chest had now spread as a numbing pain settling in your back. Nothing felt right and you were stuck right in the middle of it.

You weren’t aware when the bus pulled into the mall. You only just recognized the empty parking spaces as the bus stopped moving. The building, now devoid of any noticeable markers was simply bricks, untrimmed trees, and bushes. The dull piss-yellow light flooded out of the large floor-length windows, and the double glass doors where only the bottom level was illuminated.

“Remember that your passes to the motel down the street are at the kiosk!” shouted the driver, and then opened the door.

You sat there. The man next to you immediately pushed his way through the line. Your eyes followed him until you noticed the curious staring eyes of the man from across the aisle. He was watching the other passengers. Beneath the bill of his green and dirty white cap, his eyes studied one after the other. What you could see of his hair poked down the back of his head, brushing over a shorn cut. He was just as different, like the man who was near you during the trip. A gray jean jacket, probably it had black at one time but it was ratty on the corners. Maybe it was his favorite you thought.  He appeared healthy too, well-fed and bulky in his shoulders but slim in the waist. The color of his skin, paler than yours but tanned compared to others. He was handsome, disarmingly so and his attractiveness made him stand out all the more.

He turned his head in your direction. Quickly, you averted your eyes down to your bag feeling the energy of being caught you hitched it around your shoulders crossing the sling over your chest. Some of the people thinned out enough for you to step out. Ignoring the man to your left you kept moving, though you noticed it was completely free to walk out before you. He hung back, he waited until you approached then stepped behind you.

The feeling was back in your gut again, the gnawing fear, but you were sure it had not disappeared in the first place. Simply laid in wait. And it increased by ten when you felt him hovering at your back.

“They’re here too?” yelled a man from behind you. “Fuck! Can’t they just leave us be!” his voice boomed again.

You glanced out of the windows, Libby militia patrolled just beyond the mall doors. So you moved swiftly, grazing the tops of a few chairs as you passed and made room for your bag as you walked.

“Those fucking animals!” a shout erupted from far behind you once more. And so you kept moving, your foot nearly to the first descending step. “GET me off here!” the line suddenly jumped forward, pushing you down the stairs you missed the second.

Your bag, your body flung forward and you would have fallen right off the bus missing the stairs completely. Instead, you dangled, and then your feet grazed the last step until you were fully back on the platform.

The arm around your waist was hard, stiffer than flesh and much stronger it snaked away from you. Steadily, you jumped from the stairs and off the bus.

Turning to thank him, you whipped around but he was already heading inside. His long strides carried him passed the militia and into the mall.

[romaine2424]

Eight Days a Week (Final Chapter - 17) is Up

Notes:

Just in case you're thinking that the story is over, it's not! In December, I will be using this story as the basis for my 25 Days of HD. This will be the 3rd time I've used one of my longer stories to add short missing moments by using the 25 Days format. When you write a long story over a long period of time, the characters stay in your head and it's very difficult just to shut them down. In addition, there are always scenes you wish you could've added but they weren't necessary for the plot and would've just been filler at the time. The additions will be from 100 word (drabbles) to at the most 1.5K (short story). If there is a particular scene you'd like (no promises but I will try), message me here on Tumblr. I will add the link at the end of this chapter in December. Thank you all for reading and commenting on this story. It has meant so much to me. Seriously a lot! While HD is a big ship, having one of them transition to being transfem, while the other remains cis in the relationship, is not common. I hope this story added to trans representation in HD and HP in general. See you in December, Romaine

Chapter Summary:

A slice of Harry's and Libby's life in August 2022. Twenty-three years from when Libby and Blaise came to Grimmauld to help with the remodel.

Excerpt:

“Where is everyone?” she asked Prim, who was standing at the kitchen window looking out at the loch and the hills beyond. Two Muggles were kayaking down the middle. Knives were chopping vegetables on the cutting board to create the mirepoix for tonight’s lamb stew.

Prim turned around and gave her mother a knowing look. It was a look Libby recognised as one of her own. “Where do you think?”

Libby sighed. “I’ll go get them.”

“Aren’t you going to change first,” Prim asked whilst standing with her arms crossed looking at her mother up and down disparagingly. “At least brush your hair, Mum. You look like a mad witch from Knockturn.”

“Yes, Primabella,” Libby sniped back.

Prim laughed. “You’re just jealous of my strawberry-blond hair.”

Libby cackled. “Oh Prim, you have no idea. I’ll go make myself presentable.”

“Put on those golden ear crawlers Dad gave you,” Prim yelled as Libby made her way to the stairwell.

Read More: Eight Days a Week (Chapter 17) on AO3

And a huge, I mean huge, thank you to @m0srael for being my Alpha and @myaulophobia for being my (I check every detail) Beta/Britpicker. If only you all knew how much these two helped me and saved me from complete embarrassment. LOL Love ya both!

[random-bi-writer]

My Reaction to Scaring is Caring/All Night Plight

Woke up really late so this took long.

Scaring is Caring

The opening hits more feelings if you watched the previous episode.

Mad Scientist Molly? Why is this my first thought?

Scratch, don’t destroy your sister’s calendar.

Actually no, I’m pretty sure people would consider that terryfying.

...Is it just me, or does Molly seem more...mature?

...Is Molly doing art therapy?

Hmm, Molly is more terryfying than Scratch, I can see her doing a better job than Scratch.

Yeah, I can still see some large maturity despite the siliness. Did being homeless changed that?

Scawy. Molly is Scawy.

Monsters Inc. or that college prequel, I can’t remember the title but I’m sure you know what I mean.

Molly has good hiding skills, gives me ideas for my fic.

Here comes a thought.

Oh that is a clever and disgusting disguise. 10/10

I can’t take Scratch seriously.

At this rate, Molly is gonna end up scaring herself.

Wait, so ghosts really need to be miserable?

Okay, the maturity is getting a bit too weird for me.

And here comes Scratch’s biggest fear.

Child, you really need to stop getting into near death situations

All Night Plight

Best Teacher.

I love Molly’s face here while she stares at Scratch’s very incorrect quote while Libby is talking.

Libby, sweetie, I know ghosts exists, but I doubt you’re gonna have a canon fantasy adventure.

There not even trying anymore. They really love to make Molly completely gay.

Sweet song, would be a shame if these three got seperated.

Molly, there has to be limits to your plans, no matter how funny it is.

Oh, I thought she was going to shut down the power.

I haven’t laughed this hard in such a long time. Thank you Libby and Scracht.

You can’t just make a pinata without candy in it, Molly you’re a monster.

Libby, you just made me love you more than ever.

I was right, we really do need more Feral Libby.

And this is more depressing than the animatic, and the homeless episode.