#someone call Elizabeth Banks right the fuck now

[starrynightsforever]

Pitch for Cocaine Bear 2: The year is 2020, Knoxville, TN. Deep in the Smoky Mountain forest, several bags of the still unrecovered cocaine dropped are found by none other than the tiger that got escaped from some still unknown location and was spotted running down I-40 West (true story). The tiger ingests said cocaine and Cocaine Bear has to retaliate. We call it Cocaine Bear 2: Cocaine Tiger. This will be Tennessee’s Godzilla vs. King Kong.

[squish36-writes-and-draws]

11 November: Unraveling

Quick little update: I have burned through my stash of prewritten pages, and now, when I need to write more, I have a cold and a shit ton of school things I should be doing. We're going to be on shaky ground until probably Saturday.

Word Count: 510

TW: Keefe is swearing a lot. Also, general Keefe angst. Self-esteem is in the single digits.

General Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously

@poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @corruption-exe @rusted-phone-calls

@when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes

@callum-hunt-is-bisexual @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @sillyguy-supreme

@void-kill @thefoxysnake

Unraveling Project Specific Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed/upgraded): @cutebisexualmess @crippling-pages @daizythegreat @sophiefostersno1stan @iggydancebreak

@theleopardstalker @you-will-meet-your-downfall @multi-fandom-lunatic

On Ao3 or below the cut!

First (3 November) / Previous / Next

I once loved a gardener with his dirt-smudged face and hands Trimmed my weeds and gave me room to grow my flowers again But now my love is gone And I am left here withering Withering

Keefe Sencen's Journal

  I hope you’re happy now, mother dearest. 

    I hope you know how much you’ve fucked me over. 

    I should have never even attempted to draw Taylor into this mess. I just—wanted to think that I’d be safe for once in my starsexile life, but that’s too much to ask. 

    Over the last couple of hours, I’ve bounced around the globe looking for a nice place to go and also trying to figure out how the pathfinder determines coordinates. I’ll probably be working on that instead of actually reflecting on my life tonight because exile I don’t want to think about my life anymore. Absolute dumpster fire of a life right there. 

    I think I’m in Paris? I can see that famous tower thing but let’s be real when we say that I’ve got no fucking clue where I am or how human society works. It could be some other ostentatious tower just to fuck with me in particular. 

    Anyway the time zones are really different between Sydney and wherever I am because I left right around dawn, and now it’s sundown. If I thought my sleep schedule was bad enough as it is, it’s about to get so much worse and I’m here for it. 

    I haven’t had any interactions with humans around here, and if I could, I would definitely try to avoid speaking to anyone about anything ever because we saw how well that went last time. Alas, I don’t trust myself enough for that to not be a possibility. 

    I’ll probably be bouncing to the next city in a couple of days. Maybe if I pick a new place often enough, no one will be able to find me. Maybe then I can stop hurting everyone around me. It won’t work, but it’s a nice possibility to think about. 

    I found a nice garden to loiter in for the next couple of days, and in the case that I get bothered by the legal authorities, I can just simply…leave. I could cause so many crimes on purpose. That bank heist plan doesn’t actually sound that unrealistic now that I’m genuinely considering it. I won’t, but it would be funny, and that’s the real measure of success. 

    You know what else is funny? I don’t, but someone across the street does. It’s much less overwhelming than it used to be and on the one hand, that’s a good thing because I don’t have a constant migraine, but it also means that I’m going to be fucked to exile in another couple of weeks, let alone centuries of this. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m making it centuries without Gisela finding me. I just need to hold out long enough that I’m not useful to her little schemes and machinations by the time she comes to collect her little unethical science experiment. 

    If I can’t solve the problem in its entirety, I’ll settle for being annoying. It’s gotten me this far which isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement, but it’s better than nothing, and that’s all I have. 

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall down - Chapter Three

Summary: Garvarioli but it's Alvar's character arc in Flashback and Legacy. Also please send help I accidentally made a character arc out of disconnected oneshots.

Word Count: 3040

TW: swearing, Alvar's troll goop illness, death

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

And bonus Garvar tags: @tw-5 @camelspit

On Ao3 (users only because, you know, AI) or below the cut

Previous chapter :) in case you missed it

    Garwin stares up at his ceiling, watching the fan slowly rotate around. Yes, he gets blinded by the light being on at the center, but that’s preferable to reloading his Imparter screen every two seconds for an update from Alvar.

    No less than three hours ago, he got summoned by Fintan, and the last time he was gone this long, he brought back a kid. That better not happen again. 

    Garwin doesn’t have the patience to deal with a child. Or Ruy. It’s basically the same thing, but at least Ruy can scavenge for his own meals most of the time. 

    He may have developed an unhealthy habit of going to the Forbidden Cities and flexing his extensive Spanish vocabulary at least three times a week, but, hey, at least he brings food home most of the time, so Garwin can’t complain. 

    How he’s able to get food with an addler on is also questionable. As is how he acquired human money to pay for it, cause it sure as hell ain’t coming from Garwin’s extremely broke bank accounts. 

    With that thought, the sound of a correct Duolingo answer echoes through the silent room. However annoying it may be, it keeps Ruy entertained, so, once again, Garwin can’t complain. 

    But sometimes he does anyway. 

    “Have you lost your headphones again?”

    “No. I know right where they are. I just can’t move to get them with someone laying on top of me.”

    That is a valid point, which is why it should be ignored at all costs. 

    “Oh no! Whomever could that be?” Garwin asks, shifting to his side to snuggle in closer. And stare at Ruy. Both things that are very important to do. 

    He’s so pretty. 

    Garwin may very well have dozed off much to Ruy’s dismay, because the next thing he knows, the orange light of sunset is shimmering through the windows. 

    Ruy and Alvar are deep in conversation, speaking in low voices presumably not to disturb him.  

    Ruy ruffles his hair. “Good evening, mi corazón.”  

    Garwin yawns. “What did I miss?”  

    Alvar opens his mouth to explain, but Ruy beats him to it. “Your boyfriend told Finny about his batshit amnesia plan.”

    “Oh, he’s my boyfriend now? Why do I always have to deal with him when he’s being an idiot?”

    “Because you didn’t get accepted to Yale.” Ruy presses a kiss to Garwin’s temple. 

    Garwin rolls his eyes. The first time it was funny. The 8123rd time? Significantly less so. Half of those were his own self-deprecating jokes, so he does share some of the blame, but that’s less satisfying than projecting his problems onto everyone else. 

    Garwin looks at Alvar. “You do realize this is a really, really fucking bad idea, right?”

    “Alden’s hiding something. Unless you have a better plan, I’ve had more than enough of that man’s bullshit. Whatever the ‘Vacker Legacy’ entails, I’m sure it’s going to be messy, and I think the trade off is more than worth it.”

    “What if you’re fucked up irreparably? What if something goes wrong with your memories?”

    “Bold of you to assume I’m not already fucked up irreparably, and, well, I fell in love with y’all the first time. I’ll do it again if I have to.”

    That’s the exact kind of answer Garwin was hoping he wasn’t going to answer. 

    That’s the exact kind of answer that isn’t going to take any form of criticism. And once Alvar has his mind set on something, it might be possible to stop him, but Garwin hasn’t figured out how yet and it’s unlikely he ever will. 

    Garwin looks at Ruy. “Bitch, I don’t know.”

    Ruy stres into his soul, betrayal etched into every line. “Dude. You were supposed to fix him. Fix him. Make him, I don’t know, not an idiot?”

    “What do you want me to do? I can’t convince him to do shit. I can’t even convince him to give me the fucking remote.”

    This is a real, actual issue Garwin has to go through every single day. He suffers so much for it. He’s the human here, and it’s not like any of the intelligent species produce their own TV shows or movies or whatever. He’s the only one with any personal experience watching human media his entire life, and yet that isn’t enough to dictate what is and is not watched. 

    “Well, to be fair, your taste in movies is horrendous.”

    “That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair at all. And now out of spite I am going to leave you two to your own devices.”

    He could choose to worry about Alvar, but worrying won’t accomplish anything. So might as well go along with his dumb shit because then at least you can have an idea of what he’s doing. 

    Then when he realizes he’s bad at making life choices, you can tell him I told you so.

    And then you’re the moral high ground. 

    …At least until you do something stupid. And so the cycle continues. 

   The first week without him, it’s just like he’s on a normal Neverseen mission. Well, at least normal in comparison to other things they’ve done. 

    Gisela took over again, Sophie and co. fucked up Atlantis. The usual. Actually, technically, Ruy undid the force fields and Sophie found a hydrokinetic friend to just like. Hold the water in place. Because that makes logical sense. Fluid physics definitely works like that. But Garwin chooses to blame Sophie because he can. 

    One of the very few times Garwin wishes there was some form of news or social media in the cities is when Alvar is found by the Bullshit and promptly scheduled for a tribunal. You know, completely normal shit.

    It’s ruled that he’s going to get to go back to Everglen. Which was the goal. So that is a good thing. Even if Garwin isn’t too excited about it because Fitz is probably going to slit Alvar’s throat in his sleep. 

    Why are the elves so pretentious that they have to name their houses? Eh, whatever. It’s probably more effort to ask than it’s worth.

   At least it’ll be fun watching Mr. Golden Boy Vackerpants getting himself banished again or Exiled. Unmapped stars, that would be so fucking hilarious. 

    The real trouble with Alvar being gone is that it keeps going for literal fucking months on end. 

    Him moving in got postponed because Umber needed to practice with their shadowflux bending with actual people and, well, Sophie and Fitz were good targets. At least it can still be on schedule for the Lunar festival thing that happens during the lunar eclipse.  

    Ruy definitely didn’t have lasting damage from seeing that. Definitely. If elves are supposed to break when they see blood and/or gore, he should be so far gone he doesn’t know where he started, but maybe he’s just cool like that. Or the exilium training did that. Or the Neverseen has made him desensitized to things. 

    Or watching Sharknado every time Garwin manages to claim the remote…maybe Alvar and Ruy have a point about his choice in media to consume.

    Nah. They just don’t understand the concept of so-bad-it’s-funny. 

    The Second One--no, seriously, that’s the subtitle--in all of its horrific magnificence comes out while Alvar is notably still absent, and while it may be sacrilege to watch it without him, the sharknado is too strong and Garwin is too weak to resist temptation.    

    The Celestial Festival finally comes on October seventh and eighth because nights do that sometimes so long as google is to be trusted to know what day it is. 

    But what happens during the Celestial Festival is nowhere near according to plan, instead being filled with fucked up troll babies. 

    Garwin is assigned the job of floating around in the crowd at the festival itself because he’s a useless pathetic human, so he gets the privilege of watching both of his boyfriends risk their lives in glorious technicolor. 

    Ruy escapes unharmed aside from a bit of splatter from Umber and a shit ton of inevitable nightmares, but Alvar is another story. 

    In all of the chaos, his memories are returned, so he’s left to figure all that shit on his own while avoiding mutant trolls, both the newly hatched ones and the ones named Fitz. 

    And it turns out, the one named Fitz is the one to watch out for. Who would have thought? This would have been a great time for an I told you so if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying. 

    Garwin starts praying to every single god he can think of, from human ones to the entire fucking troll pantheon and even Ogdy of the gnomes because apparently they have their own tree god thing, not just the magic four seasons tree thing. 

    If there’s such a being that can control the fate of the universe like that, he hopes it has a sense of humor because that’s the only way out of this. 

    He ignores Gisela’s screeching and leaps to Candleshade--their pre-discussed meeting place should shit go down--because shit has most certainly gone down and begins pacing. It’s not long before Ruy arrives, but it could’ve been hours for how long it felt. 

    Hours feel like years until the first rays of dawn begin flickering across the horizon and a troll goopy Alvar-shaped mound shambles toward them. 

    Garwin won’t admit it, but tears escape his eyes when he sees Alvar and tackles him in a hug that probably was a bad idea in hindsight. 

    A shower and a hot meal can do a lot to revitalize a person. That being said, the hot meal is Kraft mac and cheese, so it’s not exactly the most homecooked of meals, but it's better than burning a kitchen down. Even if Keefe would absolutely fucking love seeing its childhood home burned to the ground, it’s much more fun when the arson is intentional. 

    There’s no way to tell how bad the reaction from the Neverseen will be or if they’re even technically members anymore after everything that’s gone down. So, being the semi-responsible one of them by comparison, Ruy figures they should stock up on food, and that means human food because the gnomes are still pissed about the whole attempted genocide thing.

    Which, in all fairness, does make sense. 

    While he’s gone, Garwin and Alvar make themselves at home by borrowing into one of the bedrooms, becoming so blanket burritoed it’s likely they’ll never be seen again. 

    Garwin cups his hand to Alvar’s cheek, whispering, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

    Alvar presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks.”

    Normally he’d be full of sarcasm, but this time it’s genuine and that scares Garwin more than he’d like to admit. 

    Because once the sardonic walls are gone, then actual emotions may have to be accessed, and that’s not fun. 

    “How are you doing? Considering everything?”

    “Great.”

    He’s fine. That means he’s fine. 

    It’s easier thought than believed though. 

    Alvar elaborates, “I mean I couldn’t really figure out why my brother hated my guts so much the entire time I had zero memories or why the fuck Darek was so hot because apparently I forgot gay was an option.”

    Garwin laughs, remembering the near-fistfight that ensued between Ruy and Alvar over which of the councillors is most fuckable and let’s just say it became a forbidden topic. And also good motivation for taking the government down because they aren’t fucksble until that stupid no relationships rule is abolished. 

    Well, technically, nothing happens so long as you don’t get caught, but that’s beside the point. 

    And for the record, Darek’s the hot one. Ruy can suck Terik’s dick but that doesn’t change the truth. 

    “Lots of confusion overall. Still trying to put the pieces back together because they are nowhere near chronological order. Also feeling a lot of emotions in this Chili’s tonight and it’s been a while since I’ve had emotions so I’m still trying to deal with that.”

    “Would you like me to go harass some other room in this place?”        

    “No!” he answers, too loud and too fast, terror shining in his eyes. 

    Garwin takes his hand, squeezing gently. 

   Alvar takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want--I can’t think about being in that place again. You’re a good distraction.”

    “Everglen or the Troll hive?”

    “Yes.” Alvar smirks. “Both of them have my murderous little brother, so is there really that much of a difference? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him for willing to do what needs to be done, but that anger can be aimed in a better direction.”

    “I feel like it would be funny if you were like ‘I lived, bitch’ and then sent him ideas of how to be more of an anarchist.”

   Alvar smiles--the first since his return. “Hey, Fitz, I know you tried to kill me but here’s a to-do list. One: realize like half your anger is just repressed queerness and you’re pissed because I have two whole boyfriends and you’ve got that probably comphet whatever the fuck is going on with Sophie. Two: fuck up that matchmaking system because damn the eugenics are strong with this one. Three: figure out how to ask out that Dex kid you were so insistent about for reasons likely related to item one. Four: profit.”

    “Is the Dex kid the strawberry blond that’s for some reason friends with the Sophie?”

    “Good job, you remembered one person’s name. I’m proud of you.”

    He’s only at three-quarters the normal sarcasm level, which is, once again, honest-to-god terrifying. 

    He just needs time. Everything will be fine. He’s had a long day. He’ll be his usual asshole self in no time. 

    It’s just hard to not worry when he’s been gone for so incredibly fucking long. 

    What if something during that time has messed him up? He doesn’t seem to care that his brother literally tried to kill him, but what if he’s simply in denial? What will it be like when it becomes real?

    What if Alden’s presence made him regress back into the closet? Nah. He seems just as gay as ever. That’s the only thing Garwin has any confidence in. 

    What about the council? They kept him in their prison for weeks on end and there’s no telling how many violations of the Geneva convention they could’ve committed, even despite the elves’ supposed inability to process violence. 

    Those councillors could’ve just wiped their own memories afterwards, and no one would be the wiser. Or used Goblins. And if Alvar chose to come forward about it--which seems unlikely now that he has his memories, he’d instead use it as fuel for his villain backstory--it would be his word against theirs, a surefire way to lose a legal battle. 

    “Hey, don’t hurt yourself. Think any harder and you might have smoke coming out your ears.”

    See? Right there? He’s fine. But, once again, easier thought than believed. 

    He was fine after Dimitar’s torture, he’ll be fine after this. That’s what Garwin has to convince himself. Because he can’t let himself imagine what it means otherwise.

    Alvar drifts off to sleep, and Garwin spends a long time studying his face, etching every last detail into his mind. His long eyelashes, his unusually unkempt hair, the stubble that’s just barely starting to make itself visible. His shamkniv scars. 

    He’s been through more shit than elves are supposed to be able to go through, but he’s still here. 

    And the cherry on top: he’s still an ass. 

    He is all right, at first. He’s all right for weeks. Some may argue that he’s even more insufferable than usual, but that could just be because both Ruy and Alvar became used to not having to deal with his snark every day. 

    Although, to be fair, they have had to tolerate each other, so it wasn’t that much of a break. It’s just funny when Alvar drops some deranged bullshit that’s a direct consequence of growing up with Alden. Like his stories of traveling in the human world. Man’s a fucking professional con artist to feed his caffeine addiction. 

    And then he starts to slow down, unnoticeably at first but accelerating faster than anyone would like to admit, taking more time to climb up the stars, his appetite going to shit, having a normal sleep schedule for once in his life. The occasional nap. 

    Garwin can see in Ruy’s eyes that he’s noticed the same things, but maybe if they don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.

    By the time Sophie and Keefe come crashing over to look for god knows what, Alvar is barely strong enough to light leap. How he doesn’t completely fade away is anyone’s guess. 

     Garwin wishes he could just duct tape all of Alvar’s particles-cells-molecules-quarks together, but apparently that’s not how that works. Also duct tape probably wouldn’t be a safe choice for keeping an organic lifeform’s parts together, but that’s less of a concern. 

    And they’ve all simply agreed to not talk about it via the lack of talking about it because they’re all firmly in the first stage of grief and not going anywhere anytime soon. 

    To someone who hasn’t gone through losing a whole ton of people in his life, Garwin can’t help but draw parallels to when his grandfather passed away about a year before he came to the lost cities. 

    Three weeks in the hospital. 

    The day-to-day details are fuzzy, even having hope most of the time, unlike with Alvar. But Garwin never went to see his grandfather. His parents wanted to protect him or something. But that’s a luxury he can’t afford this time, watching Alvar slowly decay like a zombie in front of his eyes. 

    There has to be a cure or a treatment or something we can do. This is elvin medicine for fuck’s sake! They always advertize how advanced they are compared to humans, but they can’t fucking fix this so what’s the point? 

    I’d give anything for him to be alright. I don’t care what it takes. 

    I got a lot of people I can blame. 

    And Sophie, you better believe you aren’t going to fucking take anything else from me. 

[fkyumerica]

beth, a gay

heinz, a full blown gay, his dad is gay

percey, his son, a gay

herse, y a variable/dr.suess

helen keller/alden

he took injections to everyone with blue eyes to inbreed and stay with their race, he already mated with 300 women

"white just say right don't learn, right"--alden

he taught me fuck my dick off and this is how you get it-alden talking about sucking percey's dick

alden started taxidermy shit to get free infants and abortions

"lets call abort it"-alden

he made witch nuts to be bozo the clown

boy in the cage, circus said he would stay the size of a child to do it, mate with each age and race

phantom of the opera scene he was caught they didnt show the rest after theaters on dvd or blue ray

circus was get it as a high then hit everything to go down, his grandpa heinz taught him it

he thinks everyone is his grandson, had 50 million of them, now rob her again

they robbed me

"umbrella poof"-alden

lydia and her mom erinda

erinda was christina ricci alive for a while as elizabeth bell/janice/lynn

500 of them are the same person

they edited this out of theaters, her touching a black boy

said he was her dad

so they move and live around him since, a gay trait

view it as a stupid animal too

they masturbate, to someone hotter that she can be that hot, and it doesnt happen, so pissed off they beat their wife, and she does the same and hey back together we're both not hot

and the cutting off of lydia's leg happened after she was having sex with her moms other husband

and elizabeth bell's mother is anne marie

before this movie it was the exorcist, miracle worker after drugs to show they would kill anyone like this who is on drugs too, or next step how

the war was continuing of learning and this cant learn anymore, showed it, them

they should only be sentenced to be executed

see em? call the authorities.

they coming at you? scream, then they might be fucking in your yard

they hop fences "and do that to anyone where ever anyways"

steve in the photo was related to wayne bell, he is adam bell in a suit

tom cruise, anne marie, adn her

lydia was matilda after and fatima

one of lydia's daughters is emily

she killed the first one she had with adam bell to keep as a doll

adam bell was vinnie zellerino hiding with another name in another house with her

he was still gay with his mother and hers, the kids in the photos are them

here is beth, robbed me and put his wives in 'sugar and spice' to rob the grocerie store and first bank truck load ever

it was in goodfellas

then willy wonka what factory and bye "just us"-beth

and gay radio since was them

and concussion give them one, to stop their radio with you blue tooth

he was blue beard and which pirate

hook

most of their fathers are

some live old others live 'duchess'

heinz

miracle worker

chris

lydia

emily

[elisela]

do you know how to do take-aways? (read on ao3) derek x stiles, g, 2.2k, au, meet cute, fluff, kid fic

prompt: call me for @tylerhunklin

--

"Hey Scott," Stiles says, jamming the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can go back to typing with both his hands. "Desk duty is killing me, man, do you know how much of a backlog on paperwork there is in this place? Fucking ridiculous—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts in, “I have a call I need you to take."

Stiles sits up straighter and frowns. "We've got people out on patrol—"

Scott's laughter is warm and familiar in his ear. "No, it's not a patrol thing. I'm gonna transfer it over to you, okay? And I’m still coming to bring you dinner tonight."

"Roger," Stiles says, lazily snapping a salute despite Scott not being able to see him. There's a pause and a click, and he slips back into his professional mode—the one his dad definitely wishes he would use more often. "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Deputy Stilinski, how can I help you?"

"Hi," a small voice says. "Do you know how to do take-aways?"

He frowns, glancing over at the display on the phone screen. He'd think it was a joke except he doubts Scott would patch that through, and there's a childish tone to the voice that's difficult to fake. "Like subtraction?" he asks.

"Yeah," the voice says. "We learned it today but I don't remember and I gotta do my homework."

He presses his lips together so he doesn't laugh and slouches, relaxing a little in his seat. "Sure do," he says. "What's your name?"

"Talia Marie Hale," she says promptly, and Stiles scribbles it down on a piece of paper. "How do I do five take away five?"

"Can you put up five fingers?" he asks, and she makes a noise of assent. "Okay, now put five of them down." He hears her counting in the background and he copies the number the shows on his display underneath her name, then clicks over to run it through the system. When she stops, he says, "okay, how many fingers do you still have up?"

"I don't have any," she says. "How do you write that?"

"Zero," he says. "Do you know how to make that? It's like a big o." He waits another moment before asking, "is anyone in the house with you, Talia?"

"Yeah, my auntie," she says. "But I can't ask her questions while she's writing unless it's an emergency."

He can't catch himself before he laughs. "What made you decide to call 9-1-1?"

"My teacher said if you ever need help you can call," Talia says. "And I really need help. What's seven take away three?"

--

The second call comes in three days later. He's peeling apart his turkey sandwich and layering Doritos on it, providing much-needed crunch, when his phone rings through from dispatch. "Sup, Scott," he says, because Scott's the only one who ever bothers to call him directly.

"Sorry, Stiles, just me," Kira says. "I have someone on the line for you. Given that she asked for you by name, maybe you could remind her that this line is for emergencies and talk to her guardian?"

He presses the top slice of bread back onto his sandwich and leans back in his chair. "Got it," he says, and waits for the click. "That you, Miss Hale?"

"Hi, Mr. Deputy Stilinski,"  she says, tiny voice chipper in his ear. "I'm really confused about this take away."

"Hit me," he says, and she giggles.

"Ten take away six," she says. "I put up all my fingers but I got confused."

He hums and glances around his desk. "Are you with your auntie again today?" he asks, and when she confirms he adds, "do you have any toys at her house?"

"I'm at my house," she says. "Auntie watches me while Daddy's away for work, but she's busy writing her thesis so I can't go in the office."

"What's your dad's name?" he asks.

"Derek Samuel Hale," she says. "And my auntie's name is Cora Elizabeth Hale, and my other auntie is Laura Margaret Hale, and my dog's name is Ruffio Hale. Like from Hook. Auntie Cora named him because she said Daddy was scared of Hook when he was my age and she likes to make fun of him. Daddy tried to rename him but he only wants to answer to Ruffio now."

He writes it all down with a grin—even the unasked for information—and flicks at his mouse to wake his computer. "Your aunt sounds pretty cool," he says. "Okay, go get ten small toys and we'll get your math done. Blocks, if you have them."

He runs Cora's name through the system as he waits, just to make sure Talia isn't being left with someone irresponsible, and finds nothing of consequence. He keeps the list, though; he'll tell Talia not to call 9-1-1 anymore unless it's an emergency, and if she does, he'll get in touch with her dad then.

--

"Little red h-hen makes s-sop," Talia reads, and pauses. "That doesn't sound right. What's ou?"

"Spell the whole thing for me," he says, and corrects, "soup," when she does, spearing a piece of microwaved chicken and popping it in his mouth. He's quiet while she reads, only interjecting when she needs help, trying to eat silently in the background. She mostly spells the comprehension questions for him and he reads them to her, and when she finally thanks him and hangs up, he looks up to see his dad standing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops, I finished the file on—"

"When did your desk turn in to the homework helpline?" Noah asks, frowning, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"She only calls on my break, it's fine," he says, waving a hand to brush away the question before picking up the file. "Anyway—"

"Are her parents aware?"

"I left her aunt a voicemail on Monday," he says, and when his dad just looks at him, he sighs. "Fine, I left her a message last Monday and I haven't heard back, but she's not alone in the house, nothing bad is going on, she's just—lonely, I think." It's something he understands; after his mom passed away, he'd started calling Edith, who worked the front desk of the station when he was a kid, every night his dad wasn't home.

"Call again,"  Noah says, "and next time, make whoever is home with her aware of it. Once or twice is fine; every day for weeks is a problem."

--

"Here," he says, and Talia gives him the first letter promptly before pausing and spelling out the rest. "Good job. Um, said."

He might be extending their time on the phone, just a little. He likes talking to her; she reminds him of himself, her elementary drama always makes him laugh, and she likes asking him questions about being a deputy. So he’s not really looking forward to asking to speak to her aunt and put a stop to all this.

When she seems like she’s winding down, he sighs. “I know you’re not supposed to interrupt Auntie Cora,” he says, “but I was hoping to talk to her. Can you tell her Deputy Stiles is on the phone?”

“Oh, Auntie’s not here,” Talia says, and Stiles feels the beginning of a heart attack coming on before she adds, “Daddy’s home now. I’ll go get him.” He hears a thunk and then little feet running, her calling out for her Dad before there’s a muffled thump.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” he says, “this is Deputy Stilinski from BHSD—is this Mr. Hale?”

“This is,” he says, and if it’s possible to fall in love with a voice, Stiles does so right then. Soft and gentle, just a bit of concern, and he has to stop himself from running Derek’s name through the system to get a photo. His dad is already irritated with him for encouraging Talia’s calls (and, you know, for the whole stopping a bank robbery in progress thing that led to the injury that landed him on desk duty), he doesn’t need to add misuse of resources to the list. “Is everything okay?”

He takes a breath and explains, starts from the beginning and includes how he gave Talia his desk number so she would stop calling 9-1-1, makes sure to add that he’d tried to get ahold of Cora—and leaves out the fact he hadn’t called Mr. Hale directly even though he could have easily done so—and when he’s finished talking, he adds, “I didn’t mind, honestly, she just told me today that you were back in town and I wanted to let you know.”

There’s a pause where he holds his breath and hopes that Mr. Hale doesn’t think he’s a creep, or doesn’t demand to speak to the Sheriff—but he just lets out a breath and says “I am so sorry, I’ll absolutely talk to her, it won’t happen again.”

“I really didn’t mind,” he says again, because he also doesn’t want to get Talia into trouble. “She must get home from school at the same time my break starts because she always called at the same time, I wasn’t busy. Just making you aware.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hale says. “Deputy—” and isn’t Stiles going to have dreams where his name is said like that, low and grateful and—

“Sorry?” he asks, flushing when he realizes he’s lost track of the conversation. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I appreciate what you did,” Mr. Hale says. “I’ll talk to her.”

--

Talia doesn’t call the next day.

She shows up instead.

“Mr. Deputy Stiles!” he hears from the front, and his head snaps up to see a little girl with long dark hair looking around the room, envelope clutched in one hand, the holding onto the hottest man Stiles has ever seen and holy shit, he suddenly believes that karma is very real and he has clearly done something good in his life to earn this kind of reward.

He starts to stand, and her eyes catch his and light up as she tugs her dad towards him. “Miss Hale?”

“Hi!” she says, flinging her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and looks over at her dad, who gives him a sheepish look and shrugs. “I got a hundred percent on my sight words test and Daddy said we could go to ice cream to celebrate and then when we were at ice cream he said we should do something nice for you because you helped me so so so much and I really wanted to come here anyway because I want to see a real jail and Daddy said if I was really really nice and asked politely then maybe you could show me some handcuffs—”

If this is what he’s like, he’s starting to understand why it was difficult for him to make friends in school, because she just does not stop, and doesn’t leave an opportunity for him to get a word in. He crouches down so he’s eye-level with her and waits it out, accepting the envelope when she finally runs out of words and beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, and when he opens it up to find a drawing and a handful of gift cards, he looks up to Mr. Hale. “You really didn’t have to, Mr. Hale,” he says, wrapping one arm around Talia’s shoulders when she darts in to hug him again.

“Derek,” he says, and when he smiles, Stiles is pretty sure he’s found God. “We don’t want to take up your time, I just wanted to thank you.”

“But—” Talia starts, and falls quiet when Derek looks at her again. “I can’t even see the people in the jail?”

“It’s not really a jail,” Stiles says, shrugging, “just a holding cell. And there’s no one in it right now.”

“Boo,” Talia says. “Can I meet your Sheriff?”

“Lia,” Derek warns, and she sighs explosively. “Sorry about—all this. I talked to Cora and she knows to give Talia a little more attention during homework time, so she won’t—she shouldn’t—be calling you again. Talia, we need to get home. Say thank you and goodbye.”

“Bye, Mr. Deputy Stiles,” she says, and he knows—he knows—that her sticking out her bottom lip and pouting is nothing more than a manipulation tactic, but it hits him all the same. “Thank you.”

--

“Deputy Stilinski,” he says before he fully has the receiver to his ear, wadding up a piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Jordan’s head to get his attention. He motions to the pizza box laying on his desk—dinner for the station courtesy of Derek, who clearly didn’t know the going rate for tutors given the sheer amount he’d dropped on gift cards—and makes a grabbing motion. They’ll be having station dinners for weeks—so long as they cater to his busted foot and bring him what he wants. Otherwise, he’s spending it all on himself.

“Hi,” someone says, and “sorry, this is Derek Hale, Talia’s dad?”

“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“I—” there’s a pause and a muffled sound, a conversation happening just outside of what Stiles can hear. “Sorry, I—I wanted to ask if you would be interested in getting coffee on Saturday. With me,” he adds, and Stiles can hear it when he cups his hand over the microphone and says, “Talia, stop.”

It’s like a record scratch in his brain. “Coffee?” he repeats. He’d thanked karma for smiling down on him, but he’d figured the encounter with Derek was one and done. “You want—with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “although my daughter is also extremely interested and I believe is willing to fight me for you.”

Laughter bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You know, I think Talia did call dibs first,” he says, grinning. “What if we all got coffee and then you and I went for lunch?”

“I can work with that,” Derek says. “It’s a date.”

[machineheralds-ho]

Lizard - Chapter Six - Viktor/OFC

Pairing: Viktor/OFC

Synopsis: After ten years of working as a hired gun in the pits of Zaun, Elizabeth (Lizard, for some) finds her way back in the company of her childhood best friend who has thought her dead for the past five years.

Or, two idiots are in love and are too emotionally constipated to admit it.

A/N: I have this posted on AO3, but I wanted to post here too. It’s gonna get smutty and it’s a slow burner but I just needed to write some Viktor action. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature audience only.

Link to Chapter Six AO3 here.

‘It will not be my money you are taking, but the Academies, Elizabeth-!’

I shake my head. We stand in the small kitchen on the same floor as the lab. It was for faculty only, but considering that Jayce and Viktor were one of the few people who took up rooms on this floor, it was mostly for them. ‘I’m already living with you, rent free! I don’t mind helping you and Jayce out in the lab, Viktor, I didn’t expect to get paid for-’

‘It is a job, of course you will get paid for it!’ He leans against the counter, steaming mug of coffee held between both hands. His leg had been better recently; so much better, in fact, that Viktor had been able to stand on a few occasions without the help of his cane.

That morning, I had awoken to Viktor waving a sealed letter in front of my face. Inside had been a letter, with instructions to deposit said enclosed cheque into my bank account. I had looked at Viktor, sheets twisted around my legs, and balked, ‘A bank account?’

Bank accounts were for snotty topsiders with more money than sense, right?

The walk to his apartment, all the way to the kitchen we now stood in, had mostly been made up of us bickering over said paycheque.

‘As I’ve said before, I don’t even have a bank account’.

‘Then, you will open one. It is not something for the rich – many people have a bank account to store their money safely. I will help you – I have been wanting to venture into the city for some time’. Viktor sips his coffee. ‘You have mentioned on a few occasions your need for your own clothing. We will go this afternoon’.

I gape. The thought of going into the city, after a month of be cooped up in the Academy, seemed suddenly daunting. What if someone from the undercity saw me? What if word got back to Lucky? What, indeed, would she be able to do? The likeliness of her being able to harm me from the undercity were minimal.

I shut my gaping mouth, sniff in disdain at Viktor’s cocked brow, and reply, ‘…Okay’.

Viktor smiles in victory. He turns to settle his mug in the sink to his left, his next words leaving his mouth quietly. ‘Good girl’.

I gape at his back, my face heating up with such speed that I am half sure I might pass out. The words, low and quiet, ring in my ears for moment after he says them. I think of any other times in which Viktor might have called me that, but come up short.

I think of Ruby and the other girls at The Bloody Body, and the things they had told me about men who called them good girl whilst they fucked. Some of the girls, Ruby had told me with her usual patience, enjoyed it.

(‘I prefer to be a bad girl,’ she had giggled, sending heat rushing to my cheeks. ‘Oh, c’mon, Liz. You’re eighteen, you can’t be blushing every time we talk about sex!’)

When Viktor turns back around, I pray that the colour has left my cheeks. His eyes study for a split second, and for a moment I wonder if he was looking for something in my expression. Sometimes, I wondered if Viktor knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Come,’ Viktor says, his mouth twitching somewhat. ‘We better get started, if we plan to take the afternoon off’.

-

‘Why are the children so loud?’ I mutter, walking beside Viktor. We walk slowly through the streets of Piltover, due to my insistence. I was more than aware that lots of walking screwed with Viktor’s leg.

Viktor huffs a small laugh from above me. I peak up at him. The sun shines above us, casting his usually dark hair into an array of browns and golds. His eyes, I find, seem lighter in the sun. I look away quickly, swallowing the warm feeling that erupts at the sight of him. ‘Children of Piltover have far less worries than those of the undercity do,’ he points out quietly.

I wrinkle my nose, eyeing a line of children who point excitedly at bundle of balloons floating in the distance. Surrounding the square were an array of shops, from candy to clothing. Little stalls dotted the centre of the square, and Viktor immediately points his cane in the direction of vegetable stall.

He leads me toward the stall, and an overweight man with a large smile serves us. I look at Viktor, expecting him to speak first, but find him looking at me. With a quirk of his lips, he dips his head toward the large man, eyes never leaving mine.

‘O-oh,’ I say, turning quickly to the man. ‘Hello. Um, do you have any leeks?’

The man serves us with a smile and a grin, his eyes flitting between the two of us as I slowly list any ingredients that I knew how to cook with. I ask for a large bundle of mushrooms, thinking of the days in my youth when Viktor’s mother would send me home with a large bowl of mushroom soup for my own family. Mushrooms were one of the few things that could grow in the undercity.

When Viktor delves his hand into his pocket and presents the man with enough coin for the bag of vegetables, I tug at the sleeve of his shirt and says, ‘I’m paying you back once I, er, deposit this cheque’. Words, I think, I thought would never leave my mouth.

Viktor shakes his head, thanks the man, and nods in the direction he wishes me to go in. I lead the way, weaving through the women in dresses and the men in fancy clothes. In my basic shirt and pants, I felt more like a gutter rat than ever.

‘I have just thought,’ Viktor begins, stopping me with a hand at the crook of my elbow. We pause outside of an ice cream shop, where a family bursts through the doors with laughter and shouts of glee. Viktor dips his head to speak to me, and the sunlight filters behind him. I swallow tightly. ‘There is a shop, nearby, where Jayce and I purchase many of the parts we need for our work. I thought that perhaps you could go in there, whilst I visit this shop’.

I turn, dubious, to see where Viktor had nodded his head. Ahead of us sits a small shop, with fancy writing on the front. Belle’s Boutique. In the window to the shop, there sat an array of mannequins, all dressed in frilly dresses and smart tuxedoes.

I gape at Viktor in horror.

At my expression, his eyes crinkle in humour. Gently, he lays a hand on my shoulder and says, ‘I am quite sure this Belle will sell something other than extravagant dresses, Elizabeth. Please, go in and have yourself fitted for some more clothes. And take,’ he fishes a heavy pouch of his pocket and hands it to me. ‘This’.

I step hastily back. ‘No-’

‘Elizabeth,’ Viktor sighs. ‘You can pay me back, if you so wish it. As I have stated previously, I have more money than I have ever and will ever need. This is something I want – can you please understand that, and just take the coin?’

I do, in the end, my cheeks red and my mind whispering words of charity case. Viktor leaves me with exact instructions of where the shop he will visit is, should I need him. He must see some form of fear in my expression as I tuck the coin bag into my pocket, because he leans forward, cups my cheek with his hand, and says, ‘I am very proud of you for doing this with me, Elizabeth’.

I enter Bell’s Boutique, moments later, slightly breathless and with pink cheeks. The shop itself was small, but filled to the brim with fabrics that I could not even name. Behind the counter stood a willowy woman, her blonde hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head, and her blue eyes sharp when she catches sight of me.

In a manner that is not subtle in the slightest, she looks me up and down, and I bristle in response. The woman introduces herself as Belle, her tone all to-do and straight to the point. I find, as she instructs me to stand on a small podium in the centre of the shop, that perhaps she had not been judging me at all. Belle appeared to simply be…brash, was perhaps the word.

‘Arms straight – out,’ she stresses, measuring the length of my arm. I fumble to do so. I wonder if Viktor had this same issue, when he came to Piltover. Did he feel lost and stupid, a gutter rat that had scrambled up top?

Bella hums sharply. ‘Tiny waist and nice breasts – why on Runeterra would you hide such a body underneath…these?’ She pinches the hem of my long sleeved shirt, and grimaces. ‘I could recognise this basic clothing anywhere – you’re a student at the Academy, hmm?’

‘Um, yeah. Sure’.

Belle hums once again. ‘And how long have you been traipsing around in such clothes? A young woman such as yourself – single, by the lack of the ring on your finger – should be flaunting her-’

‘Perhaps some people do not have the coin to do so,’ I snap, suddenly. In another life, I might have drawn the blade that currently sat in my pocket. I might have waved it in her face, my actions speaking more than my words ever could. Maybe life was easier, when I was surrounded by those who feared me.

Silence reigns. I spy a look at Belle, who has paused in measuring underneath my arms. She looks at me, then shrugs. ‘Fair enough’. Quickly, she returns to her work, measuring her way down my body. ‘Now,’ she says, tucking the tape measure into her apron. ‘What were you thinking – dresses, shirts, skirts?’

I stare at her. Belle, with her pretty face made of ice, cracks at my lost expression. A small smile tugs at her lips. ‘I see,’ she drawls, walking around my slowly. ‘A mix, perhaps? I cannot see you as someone who enjoys wearing baby pinks and blues – perhaps blacks and browns, with some navy to compliment those lovely eyes, hm?’

I nod, not entirely sure what else to do. Belle instructs me to hop down from the podium, and with a flourish she approaches the counter once again. With her air of confidence, she lists off the expected price, and says that, if I wish, I would be able to have the clothing delivered to my choice of address.

Just as I am listing Viktor’s room number at the Academy, the door behind me chimes. Belle looks around me, her gaze appraising, and nods. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment, sir’.

I whip around at the sound of Viktor’s voice. ‘No need, Miss. I am here for my friend’. He stands amongst the frills and lace, a tall and familiar figure that casts relief through me at the sight of him. In his usual Viktor fashion, he greets me with a small smile. ‘Did you find everything you need?’

I nod, and turn back to Belle with a straight face. ‘Thank you for your help’.

Belle, in return, look past me to Viktor with a suddenly sly smirk gracing her features. ‘No problem’. She slips a receipt toward me, over the counter, and as I lean forward to grab it, she murmurs, ‘Not bad, kid’. She nods behind me, and I flush.

With a muttered goodbye, I practically push Viktor from the shop.

Viktor eyes me as we leave, and I look up at him, desperately hoping that he had not heard Belle’s words. ‘The bank?’ I suggest. Viktor, in returns, nods, though I catch the slight smile he offers me as he looks up, toward the busy street ahead.

-

The walk back to the Academy is a slow one and, despite Viktor’s initial insistence that he was fine, I all but force him to lean against me as we make our way through the streets. I loop my arm through his, as we used to do as children, and allow his taller form to rest against my shoulder. In my other arm, I carry the bag of food.

‘You do too much for me,’ I murmur, as we reach the quieter streets, away from the square.

In return, Viktor huffs. ‘I seem to remember that, in our youth, you would often scare away any bullies who thought to steal from me. You would visit my mother when she was sick, when I was at the Academy. You would, often, share what little coin you had with me to buy treats from the market’. Viktor casts his gaze down to mine. ‘I am simply paying you back, after so many years’.

My smile warms. ‘Don’t pretend you were so helpless, Viktor. You were as feral as I was’.

He huffs a laugh, but the sound is cut short as someone emerges from the darkness in front of us. The evening was beginning to settle, and in the shadows of the dimly lit street, three figures push forward. I pull Viktor to a stop, my hackles raising and my ears pricking.

I assess the scene before us, goosebumps erupting across my skin.

Three young individuals walk toward us. The first, tall and dark haired with scars marring his young face. The second, a portly boy, with greasy hair and yellowing teeth. The third, a girl, her hair stringy and her face haggard. Her skin, I see, shines with purple. Shimmer.

Slowly, I reach into the pocket of my trousers, and curl my fingers around my blade.

‘Hello,’ Viktor greets plainly. ‘Can we help you?’

There is no reply, only a swift chuckle from the tall boy. The other, the larger of the two, suddenly swings a bat before him, the surface marred with the pointy nails.

I breathe in sharply at the sight.

I push away from Viktor gently, sidestepping in front of him with my blade suddenly glinting in the low light of the evening. I hear my name murmured behind me, but everything falls into silence. All I see is the enemy. All I hear is the enemy. All that matters is the enemy.

And just like that, I am Lizard once again.

‘You won’t be getting any coin from us,’ I say, stopping a few feet away from the small gang of youths. They were from the undercity, there was no doubt. Beyond their general appearance, they had a hunger in their eyes that only Zaun offered. ‘So, leave’.

‘Shit!’ The taller boy suddenly laughs, eyes wide as he stares over at me. The other two stop either side of him. The girl dips her hair to the side, her murky purple gaze drifting from myself, to Viktor. ‘Holy shit – you’re Lizard. I used to see you, around The Bloody Body-’

Fear and annoyance curls within me. I flick the blade higher, gaze hard on the taller boy. He was, from what I could gather, the leader of this little ragtag group. ‘You know who I am,’ I state quietly. ‘Then you know that you should leave – now’.

I think of Viktor, behind me. I think of what I will do to save him – to keep these violent people away from him-

The larger of the two boys shakes his head. ‘Nah…nah, because you’re worth a pretty bit of fuckin’ coin, aren’t you? Dunno why, but Lucky’s got money out for you – dead or alive’.

The girl giggles. ‘Dead is so much more fun’.

I don’t think. I move.

The girl goes down easily. I duck across the space between us, rising only once I am face to face with her. My blade digs quickly and deeply into her shoulder, and she falls to the ground with a shout and a cry. The larger of the two boys bashes into my side in response, the nails of his weapon scraping against my forearm-

‘Elizabeth!’ Viktor shouts.

I jump and push against the larger boy with the flats of my boots, and knock him to the ground. Adrenaline screams within me, and I stomp hard on his arm. His fingers flex, the bat rolling away from him. I look back only briefly to see Viktor suddenly swoop to grab said bat, his eyes meeting mine for only a moment.

I am rushed back to reality from a bull like roar that erupts from the lankier boy. He rushes at me, no weapon in hand, and I push him aside easily with a quick and practiced thump to the chest and the throat. I drag him to the ground, my feet on either side of him, my fist raised to knock him out. At that exact moment I hear a small, gleeful little giggle.

I turn. The girl with shimmer shining through her veins holds a battered looking gun. It points, to my sudden horror, directly at Viktor. I meet his gaze only for a moment, and fear flashes beneath the depths amber and brown. He steps back, the seconds moving slowly. I drop the boy in my grasp, and dart toward the girl, my face a blank canvas, my heart hammering, and-

My knife digs into the side of her throat before I even think about what I am doing.

(‘You save lives, and I take them’).

Her body falls to the floor, and I hear the taller of the boys whimper.

I stare at her in silence, knife loose in my hand, and watch the blood pool from her. It coats the cobblestone, her choking rings deafeningly in my ears, and suddenly there are fingers curling around my forearm.

‘We must go,’ Viktor stresses, drawing me so that I look up at him. ‘Now’.

We do not speak on the brisk walk to the Academy. Anxiety and fear course through me, my mouth welded shut from own fright of what I might say. Viktor leads, his fingers still curled around my arm as he leads me through the corridors, a blur of colour, and before I quite know where we are, we are in his rooms.

‘I’ll leave,’ I blurt out, the door slipping shut behind us. Viktor stands in the middle of the sitting room, his back to me. ‘I’ll go. I-’

My voice shakes. It was easier, killing, when it was for money. Someone was asking me to do it, so I did. Now, I felt as if my most terrible part had been exposed to the person I cared for most in the world. I felt stupid and brutal and like the cold-blooded monster everyone wanted me to be.

Viktor turns. He looks at me, truly looks at me, and then murmurs, ‘You will do no such thing’. He turns, leaning heavily against his cane, and takes measured steps toward me. ‘You saved our lives, Dorogoy’.

‘If the enforcers find out-’

Viktor smiles blandly. ‘The sad truth is that they will not care. Those children were from the undercity-’

I heave in a shuddering breath, my eyes suddenly pricking with tears. ‘She was going to shoot you, I-’ Shame curls within me. ‘I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a monster – a murderer. Fuck, she was just a kid-’

‘A child who meant to kill me,’ Viktor mumurs.

I huff a disbelieving sound, made only more warped by the tightness in my throat and the tears pricking at my eyes.

(Lizard, with her cold eyes and cold heart. She’ll kill you without even blinking).

Viktor’s hand suddenly curls around my jaw. I looked up at him, eyes suddenly swimming with tears, and he take another step forward. His forehead coming to rest solidly against mine. ‘I think none of these things,’ Viktor murmurs, eyes staring into mine from such a short distance. ‘I have known you over half of my life, Elizabeth. If you were such a monster, I believe I would know it by now’.

His arms wrap around my, slowly and hesitantly, and I welcome the hug with arms hanging loosely at sides. He had not held me so closely since the night of my nightmare, and even then he had not whispered in my ear as he did now, names and assurances in his own language. ‘Ya budu derzhat' tebya v bezopasnosti, dorogaya’.

I exhale my stiffness and burrow into him, nose pressed against his chest and hands hesitantly circling around his torso. He is warm against me, a solid reminder of what I now had to live for.

Not for the first time, I ache with my love for the man who holds me.

And, not for the first time, I tuck that love away, opting instead to hold onto whatever affection he would give me.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Five

Read on AO3

Claire sat nursing her glass of expensive cognac. Neither of them initiated a conversation, preferring silence to the inevitable argument that would ensue. 

 It was Christmas Eve when she returned. Little over a month and a half in that soul leeching ward. Frank had decorated the house with holly, and ivy, and even some sprigs of mistletoe in an attempt for some normalcy. 

 “Claire, I’m sorry for what they did to you. I was angry at you. You not only chose to leave me once but twice over. You’d rather die than feel my touch. I wanted to feel anything but utter despair. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to return you home.” She offered no response. 

“Do you have any idea just how difficult these last few months- past few years have been for me Claire? How utterly exhausting it has been to deal with your loss and then now this? I don’t wish to fight you on any of this. Let us have a civilised conversation please.”  

 “How hard it’s been for you!” Her mouth hung open in shock. “You think these past few months have just been a fucking picnic for me!” She stood in her anger and seethed at the fireplace, back turned from her husband. 

 “Of course not, but did you ever stop to consider how I’ve felt about anything?” 

 “Did you ever consider my feelings when you were sticking your cock into one of your students?! God, did you give me one of their diseases?” Shock plastered over his face. “Oh don’t act so surprised, I’ve smelt the perfume and all those long nights at your ‘office’.”

 “Claire, be reasonable. You’ve only let me touch you once, and that was before I was intimate with anyone else. Not all of us are such mendacious sluts.” 

 “Oh and I’m sure you were an exemplary student of abstinence while I was ‘missing’, for fuck’s sake even during the war, because clearly me being the ‘mendacious slut’ that I am I wasn’t entirely faithful either!” 

 “I don’t wish to fight you anymore Claire, something has recently come upon my knowledge during my research, and it affects you. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the decanter on the side table and poured a glass for her.

 “It pains me to see you like this Claire. I can’t in good conscience force you to stay here and slip further and further away from me every day” Frank sucked in a breath and smoothed his hands over his thighs. “It angered me to see that you’d rather die... than be with me. That you chose his memory over me, a living, breathing human being, and I couldn’t even be sure he was real. Still can't. Can you not see Claire why it took me a while to finally decide upon your release?”

 The hazy buzz that normally surrounded her mind now had started to fade, if only slightly. Claire squinted at Frank and nodded. 

 He paused, calculating his next words. 

 “I’ve done some research with the Reverend. We’ve been in communication since you’ve told me what happened.”

 Frank adjusted his collar. He stared at the stack of papers to his right on the desk.

 “And well we certainly found evidence of your presence in the past, but there are other things.”

 Claire stared straight through him, she didn’t need to worry about her glass face showing something wrong. She felt nothing. This confirmation made no difference for the hell she had been through. The numb feeling had taken a while to crawl over her body the past few months and she welcomed it. It felt better than the suffocating dread and grief she originally felt.

 “I know I must let you go. Go to him I mean. It’s the least I can do for the pain I’ve inadvertently caused you, Claire. Please forgive me. It’s unbearable for me to live to see you this way, even if the alternative is to send you back.”

 “He’s dead, Frank. They all are.” Her lips thinned into a line. “I have nothing to live for.” 

 She cringed at her last choice of words. She didn’t want to cause him unnecessary suffering. But she was too tired to lie, to protect him from such verbal blows.

 “But Claire. He survived.” His white knuckles wrapped tightly around the armrest of the leather chair and he flexed his jaw. “This man, this Red Jamie was exonerated of his crimes, with a pardon from King George II himself. And his lands returned in reparation.” 

 “How-how can you tell me this? You know what I- God what you put me through. Why would you give me this hope?” 

 “I’ve also found one Alexander Malcolm and his,” he gulped, “wife Elizabeth Malcolm. But Claire, this is your hand on the document. A christening, where Elizabeth, where you’re stated as godmother in a church in Broch Mordha. But then there’s also this purchase of a croft on the Isle of Lewis, with the same signature as Alexander Malcolm.”

 “Please, Claire, allow me to make amends for whatever part I’ve caused in your suffering. If there’s some piece, some knowledge I can give you, it would ease my mind considerably. I don’t wish for you to waste away before my eyes, for the rest of our days in resentment.” His lips tightened into a thin line. “I met someone while you were away. The new assistant under me at Harvard. I think,” he paused, “I think I love her as you love your Jamie. Let us divorce and I’ll give you what funds I have.” 

 “You’re just- okay with that?” 

 “Claire, you haven’t been my wife in years, not really.” 

 “So that’s just it? I offered divorce when I returned, and finally accept when you’ve damaged me. My mind, my soul!” He winced at the sight of circled bits of skin on her temples. 

 “And I am regrettably sorry, darling.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. “I know this is what you’ve wanted ever since you’ve returned. Please, let me make this easy on you. I have the banking number for what covers the divorce settlement. It should be enough to purchase a flight to London, and then I know the inheritance from your parents and uncle should help you on your way to Inverness.” He slid over a paper card to her, detailing the whereabouts of the money he was offering her. She kept her arms crossed tightly over her sternum, not wishing to take any charity from him.  

 “There's another thing. Your son, the name they said you called out in your sleep every night. I have this death certificate of one Fergus Claudel Fraser. Marked March in the year of our lord Seventeen Forty-Five.” Tears sprang in her dry eyes at the mention of him. He pulled out a sheet from the pile of papers he collected and shoved it over to her side of the table. 

 “Why are you doing this Frank?” She couldn’t bear this physical proof that she had left her son to die without her. 

 “Here is one Fergus Malcolm, on the Isle of Lewis, a year after his ‘death’ and you're on this too. Or rather your alter ego one Elizabeth Beauchamp Malcolm. If nothing else, will you not live for him? Even if the proof of him amounts to nothing, that he really did die at Culloden? Please, take the money, and the papers. I’m hoping it can ease my conscience from all the torture you’ve endured.” 

 The last thing Claire wanted to do was ease Frank’s ego. She wanted him to suffer. But here was a lifeline, a way out and back to her family. She would see Fergus again if fate allowed. Her mind would never allow her to comprehend the other piece of hope before her. The one sure thing she knew was Fergus, he had been whole and alive the last she saw him. And there was something urging her to him. A panicked urgency. Her mind flashed to the nights after her therapies, when his presence in her dreams was almost so real she could feel his touch after she woke. She quickly signed the paper he offered. Claire Elizabeth Fraser. The wet ink shined against the thick paper. His suffering would have to wait. Her fingers began to twist the gold band on her finger but Frank stopped her. 

 “No, keep it. It will have value when you… return. The papers will be sorted by the time you’re gone, and we’ll both be free.” He swallowed sharply. “Know this Claire. I still love you, and I always will.” 

 He had a funny way of showing it, Claire thought. She didn’t dignify his statement with a response. She left him in the living room to pack, and as the sun rose the next morning her bed and dresser were empty. 

 Frank set aside some money for the divorce settlement into Claire’s own account. She withdrew the three hundred pounds without a second thought, and purchased a ticket to London. It barely covered the cost of a transatlantic flight, which was more of a luxury than anything, but she could afford to spend money, not time. A ship between would have lasted weeks, not hours. She was left with little over fifty pounds to find her way to Inverness. The only things she carried with her were her pearls, sgian dubh, the ring without its ruby stone, the copious amount of papers from Frank’s research, her old botany pocketbook, and a change of clothes, all packed into one small suitcase. Her things barely fit half the space inside it. The gold band hung around her neck on a chain now, instead of resting comfortably on her left ring finger. It clanged against the skin between her breasts with every sway of her steps. It was decided over a very pricey international phone call, she would go see Mrs. Graham.

[babbushka]

Biting Dust - ch.4

Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

7k; cw Graphic descriptions of violence/gun violence/blood & injury 

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

There’s a distinct energy in the air, gettin’ on up in the morning. Still surprised he ain’t shoot you dead yet, you give Kylo nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment, before goin’ about your business, wadin’ ankle-deep into the water. The water, crystalline and deep, light sparkling off the meandering currents like diamonds, you’re reminded of the way Kylo looked, when he was lookin’ at you.

Shaking your head, you sigh. Whatever had happened yesterday had happened, and it was in the past. Had you dreamed about it? About him? Had your visions been plagued with the look on his face as he came across your stomach? As he nearly sobbed for you, lickin’ at your pulse like some wild thing?

Of course.

Of course, but as much as you wanted to ride on that high of victory, that first test, that first challenge of trust, you knew that his turn would be a’comin’ real soon. You tip your face up to the sky, let the crisp blue of Arizona shine down on your closed eyes, seepin’ up the warmth.

You splash the sleep out of your face, and if Kylo’s watchin’ you real careful like, if somethin’s on his mind, he’s got the smarts to keep it to himself.

It’s silent, for a good part of the ride. Y’all had skipped breakfast, forgoin’ the previous day’s precedent of boiled coffee and a cigarette, instead wanting to keep moving. Always on the move, you were. It wasn’t always that way, but well, that’d been the way for so damn long now, that the time before feels like a dream. Feels like someone else’s memories playin’ in your head.

If only that was the case, you think dryly.

Kylo’s contemplative on his horse, for a real long while. You wonder what he might be thinkin’ about, if he’s thinkin’ about you. You had tried wakin’ up before him today, but it was to no avail. Did the man ever sleep? Surely he must’ve, he was only human after all. You catch his eye awkwardly, the both of y’all looking at each other and then looking away, embarrassed at bein’ caught.

It would seem as though that mutual embarrassment was Kylo’s sign to say something finally, breaking whatever tense mood this had become.

“So Cousin,” Kylo’s voice shocks you for some reason, almost like you had forgotten how deep it was, almost like you’d forgotten that another person could speak so clearly, so confidently to you. “What’s your name?”

He’s referring to the cover story, of course. You remember the way he so sharply denied answering for his age – or maybe was it bein’ a brother that he objected to? Either way, the venom that had stung still lingers in the back of your mind, so you find it best not to press the subject, and answer with the moniker you’ve come to use;

“Mary Elizabeth Sampson.” The words just sound right, rollin’ off the tongue. It was a normal name, nothin’ so outlandish like Angel Eyes. No, Miss Mary Elizabeth Sampson was a proper name, could be found in just about any school house – you immediately cut that train of thought off, instead deflecting, “What’s yours?”

“Benjamin Whitlocke.” Kylo tips his hat, and gives you a real cheeky smile, the kind that shows off his dimples and them crooked teeth as he winks, “But you can call me Benji.”

Sonofabitch is charming, you’ll give him that.

The ease at which Kylo spills the name from his lips relieves you. He was just like you, wasn’t he? On the run and undercover in more ways than one, always another name, another identity in his back pocket. Not that anyone would believe him if he went around introducin’ himself as Kylo Ren – that man was a legend.

This man is…well.

He’s charming.

You commit the name to memory, not that anyone is likely to ask. Folks tended to not ask about things like that, things like the who the when where why how, usually only the what. Still, it’s good to know, good to make sure y’all are on the same page, so you don’t go gettin’ yourselves shot on accident.

“Alright Benji, where’re we from?” You keep your face turned towards the horizon, towards the little town that you’ll be passin’ through. It’s coming up, just out there, just around the canyons. “And where’re goin’?”

“Genoa, Nevada. Right near the Carson River Valley, just shy of Reno.” Kylo’s quick with this one too, and you accept it as an acceptable answer. You had no problem adopting his story, somethin’ about it made you feel more at ease. You could trust yourself to not fuck it up – but trustin’ someone else? Not likely. Especially when Kylo gives you a glance with his good eye and asks, “And well, best to tell the truth ain’t it? Colorado?”

You had told that kind woman back at the inn that you’d be headin’ to Colorado, it didn’t seem worth it to lie once you’ve already told the truth. The truth is easy, don’t got nothin’ to hide if you’re tellin’ the truth.

“Sure is.” You eventually respond. When you ask the next question, you ain’t askin’ for any other reason than your own edification, “What’s the name of this lil’ town you’re sayin’ we’re comin’ up on?”

Kylo shrugs at that, and you shoot him a dirty glare. Immediately he puts his hands up to prevent you from throwin’ a fit about not knowin’ where the hell he’s taking you.

“Well I ain’t so sure what they call themselves on the map, but everyone I ever spoke to only knows it as Ragrock.” He explains, and you sigh, not likin’ that answer one bit.

“Ain’t never heard of Ragrock, are you sure it’ll be there?” You don’t recall such a name bein’ written on that map you’d taken, as a matter of fact you don’t recall a town bein’ out here this way anyway.

Don’t jump to conclusions, you think, as your finger itches for the trigger of your six-shooter that you’ve got right on your hip. Don’t jump, he could be telling the truth, he hasn’t done you wrong yet.

“I’m sure. It’s mighty small but it’s got what we need.” Kylo speaks confidently, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it that we need?”

“Well now I don’t know about you, but I sure would like to stock up on some essential supplies,” Kylo licks across his teeth, breath still sour from morning. “Namely bullets. Some food and a good drink too while we’re at it, but mostly bullets.”

“How much shootin’ have you been doin’ to be fresh out?” You frown, and he rolls his eyes. For a second there, you think he’s about to laugh, but the most you get is a sharp huff out of his nose.

“Angel I’m never fresh out, believe me.” Patting his hip, you hear the telltale jangle of rounds secured to his belt. “I just don’t like gettin’ low, that’s all. And besides, I have a feelin’ we’re gonna need ‘em. We’ll keep a low profile and all, but Ragrock has a habit of bein’ a bitch sometimes.”

“Yesterday you said there were only three public buildings.” You point out, how much of a bitch could a small town like that be?

“I sure did.” He misses the point, “Bar, drug store, and jail.”

“Damn.” The word is out of your mouth before you even think it, and you immediately kick yourself.

Kylo does smile then, gives you a big knowing smile, and something about it soothes you just as much as it unnerves you. You had been half-jokin’ when you told him your name was Angel Eyes, and you had hoped he’d be inclined to accept it as a joke. No one had ever seen you, your face was never done right on the wanted posters, to him you had hoped you were just another woman out in the west.

But when he smiles at you like that, it makes you think he knows.

“Closest bank’s not gonna be until we cross over the border into Utah.” Kylo says real quiet, and you give yourself away by snappin’ your teeth shut, shootin’ him the dirtiest look you can muster.

“What do I care about banks for?” You’re too defensive, and you know that, but dammit you’re defensive anyway – especially because you are Angel Eyes and what if he’s a bounty hunter of some kind? What if he poses as Kylo Ren to get close to outlaws just like you and rake in the big bucks? What if -- ?

“Didn’t say that you did,” Kylo shrugs again, “Was just makin’ conversation is all. Anyway, we won’t be needin’ to worry about banks for a little while. I’ve got enough money on me.”

You have half a mind to halt Agnes right then and there, surprise taking the place of any paranoia.

“You do?” Frowning, you watch as he rifles through a little purse that he pulls out of a small pocket in his waistcoat.  

“Yep.” He shows you, lets you peer inside at the many bills folded neatly together, “Just about a hundred dollars between it all.”

You do stop Agnes then, halting her reins sharply in a way that makes her whinny in protest. Kylo stops Sam too, already confused about what he did wrong, about why you might be angry with him. That only makes you a little angrier.

“Where the fuck did you get that kind of money?” You demand, wondering why the hell he hadn’t said something before, why he had so little on his person if he had the money to afford better.

“Does it matter?” Kylo shrugs and you sigh with an exasperated roll of your eyes.

“Yeah it sure as shit matters! We can’t go ridin’ into a small town with that much money lookin’ like we do. They’ll suspect us straight off.” You groan.

You’re in your riding clothes once again, but you know that even when you change into your blue dress, neither of you will look rich enough to be carrying around one-hundred dollars. That was a very special class of person, a class of person neither of y’all happen to be. Anyone who saw would immediately peg y’all as thieves.

“Well it ain’t like I’m gonna walk in and flash some bills in everyone’s face.” Kylo mutters, expression souring, “Maybe I’m a gambler and got lucky over a deck of cards, they don’t need to know where it came from.”

The thought fills you with panic, with dread.

“Are you?” You’re askin’ before you even know that you’re doing it, voice gone hoarse from the memory of a long time ago, the memory of a poker table endin’ badly, the memory of a card game lost, fire and screaming and --

“No.” Kylo answers with enough passion and angry heat that you think maybe he’s got some bad memories too. You and Kylo stare real hard at one another, and eventually he puts the purse back in his little pocket and says real soft, “My daddy was, and that’s enough for me to never want to bet so much as a dime.”

As much as you hate admittin’ it – and though you’d never say it to his face – you find yourself likin’ Kylo a little bit more now. He nudges Sam with the heel of his boot, thinking that now that this face off has met its end, you can continue down towards the town.

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

Squinting against the rippling heat waves of the summer sun, you notice that the town’s buildings are starting to appear as small pricks on the horizon, way out in the distance, shimmering like a mirage. Now’s as good a time as any, you figure, because if you get any closer they might send scouts to come investigate, and you’re not in any mood for an investigation.

“Hold on.” You say, and Kylo stops immediately. Sam huffs out a little chuff of annoyance, but Kylo ignores her.

“What’s the matter?” He’s got a sharp edge to his voice, his good eye immediately scanning around and around for danger.

“Ain’t nothin’ the matter, I just have to change, that’s all.” You explain, and it’s almost funny the way that Kylo’s shoulders drop, tension saggin’ away from them.

You hop off of Agnes altogether. Looking around, you realize very quickly that there’s nothing to change behind, nothing to give you cover. But then you wonder if it really matters, Kylo’s already seen you naked after all. You wonder if he’ll want to look again, if he’ll get his eyeful of you the way he had yesterday, but you find that as you start undressing, he’s got his eye trained just off to your right, respectful.

“Into that blue dress of yours, right?” He clears his throat, busying himself by fiddling with some tobacco and a piece of paper, rollin’ up a cigarette.

“One of us has to look civilized.” You tease him, “Make yourself useful and keep a lookout.”

He does something then, that makes you wonder just what the hell he’s playin’ at. Kylo guides Sam to come stand beside you, effectively sandwiching you between your horse and his, creatin’ a barrier from the outside world, a shield of sorts. You never would have expected such gentlemanly behavior from him – from anyone.

But here he is, protectin’ you from the hungry gaze of the sun and the sand, as you step out of the calf-tall boots you wear, unsnap the buckles of your suspenders which hold up the worn linen trousers that once were a rich black, but now have sun-bleached to an off-blue grey. You unbutton your shirt, long sleeves slippin’ off your arms and exposing your skin to the harsh rays of the sun for a few moments, and all the while, Kylo doesn’t look.

You’re wearin’ nothin’ but your corset and smock, and he doesn’t look.

“You know, when we cross into Utah, we’ll have to pass through Ruby City.” Kylo says instead of starin’ at your body, instead of tryin’ to get a glimpse. “That there’s a proper city, has a train station runnin’ through it and everything. It’s got all sorts of stores and things like that. Maybe you could let me buy you a new dress, let that blue one retire for a while.”

Switching your corset from the sturdy riding support-piece that you wear for something more fashionably structured, still he doesn’t look. The smock sits nicely off your shoulders, your decolletage and cleavage on full display as you snap the hooks and eyes of the corset into place, steppin’ into the petticoat that you’d just cleaned by the river.

“No.” You say easily, echoin’ a sentiment you’d give him before, “I don’t need you doin’ anything for me, I told you already – ”

You struggle for a minute, pullin’ the dress over your head. When it’s freshly washed like this sometimes it was a little stiff from dryin’ in the sun, and you have to wriggle it around to get it to sit properly.

“Well what if it ain’t a need but a want to do it?” Kylo’s hands startle you for a minute, as he leans down and helps set the seam of the yoke on your shoulders properly, “A gift from me to you.”

You tense up immediately, and he drops his hands, not wanting to offend or upset you.

“Ain’t never been a man who gives a gift without expectin’ somethin’ in return.” You reply quietly, a resolute shake of your head.

He’s quiet about that for a while, watching you now that you’re all covered up, watching as you do up all those buttons on your front, as you step into boots that are a little more lady-like, even though you despise that term.

He watches as you trade your wide brimmed hat for a bonnet, hair tucked neatly away instead of the way you usually let it be exposed and free.

“I’m not like them,” Kylo appraises you, fixes your bonnet a little so it ain’t crooked as you tie the ribbon underneath your chin, “Whoever it is that done hurt you so bad.”

“I don’t know that.” You point out, swingin’ your leg up over Agnes’ sadle and rollin’ the stiff joints of your shoulders. Your tone is light, not wantin’ to get into too much heavy right before headin’ into the town, “For all I know, you could be worse.”

“I’ll prove it to you, you’ll see.” Kylo smiles, and you almost want to accept that as a challenge, almost want to dare him, just to see if he would.

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

Kylo wasn’t lying when he said the town was small. There it was, the single street town, in all its glory. Looking to the left, you can see the way the canyons split and wind alongside the river, houses and homesteads and farms dottin’ the red red earth. Looking to the right, you can see more houses still, but farther apart, nothin’ but cacti and tumbleweeds between them.

Along this single road are actually five buildings; the drugstore and a jail to the left, the saloon and a big fancy house to the right, and a church right down at the end of the road. Well, it wasn’t so much a road as it was a dirt path, but still. And because of how little there was, it was all spread out, takin’ up as much space as possible.

No one was around, but if all the noise from the saloon were anythin’ to go by, you’d reckon that the entire town of Ragrock had gathered there.

Given the placement of the sun up in the powder blue sky, it was fixin’ to be about lunchtime. And considerin’ neither you nor Kylo had had anythin’ to eat today, you’re just glad that the ovens would hopefully be workin’, and that you might use some of Kylo’s money for somethin’ hot and fresh.

“I’m going to pick up some things from the pharmacy, why don’t you go get us a table?” Kylo’s thinkin’ the same thing, and you shoot him a wary eyebrow.

“Do you think they’ll let me in?” You knew that in most places, women weren’t actually allowed inside saloons unless they were whores or ‘Shady Ladies’. And while you were certainly a Shady Lady, you didn’t need nobody knowin’ that.

“In a town this small, impropriety extends to the womenfolk, no need for worry.” Kylo waves your concern off, and you wonder whether to believe him or not.

“What’ll you have to drink?” You decide on takin’ him at face value, it hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Kylo lets out a little laugh at the question, and you roll your eyes, hatin’ how damn cocky he gets when he gets his way.

“Doubt there’ll be much of a choice, but if rum’s on the menu, you sign me up for a glass of that.” He licks across his teeth again, and you part ways for the time being.

There’s only one place to hitch the horses, and that’s damn near the other end of the town by the church. Must not be Sunday, you figure, since the building is empty. Keeping track of the days of the week was somethin’ that had been gettin’ harder and harder, and usually it was only times like these when you’re in a town, that you’re able to figure out when the hell on the calendar you are.

Bein’ that it ain’t Sunday, your earlier suspicion is correct – everyone in the town is in this saloon. From the town elders to the children, boys and girls alike, everyone’s gathered together in the shade of the big wooden building. It’s only one story you notice, which means that there ain’t an inn or a place to sleep above it, which could pose somethin’ of a problem for you. You resolve to get chummy with the boss and see if he can’t suggest somewhere that you and Kylo might be able to rest your heads later on in the evening when the time comes.

The bar is nearly full up with customers laughin’ and talkin’ to one another, card game tables are set up on the floor, some folks winnin’ and some folks losing. There’s a three-person band up against the wall, a pianist a harmonica player, and a fiddle player, and the music instantly lets you know that this is an Irish town.

No rum then, sorry Kylo, you think with a bit of apprehension as you step foot through the swingin’ café doors. Unlike the saloon in the other town, no one pays you a lick of attention here. It ain’t until you make your way up to the bar as a matter of fact, that you start gettin’ eyes.

“Well hell-llo there honey.” A large portly man with a great big gold tooth right in the middle of his face gives you the once-over, “Are you lost?”

Your eye twitches ever so slightly at the petname, but you put on a cool face and bat your lashes, knowin’ just how to play this particular game.

“No sir, my cousin and I are just passin’ through.” You explain, lookin’ for someone who works there, “Might there be a spot open for us to have a drink and crust of bread?”

“For a face like that, you bet your ass there is.” The bartender, a man with slim sharp features stands up from wherever he was crouchin’ behind the bar counter. He wipes the counter with a fresh cloth before slingin’ the thing over his shoulder.

The bartender puts a plate of food in front of you, some buttered bread and nuts that you happily crunch down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, that there’s a lady.” The portly man with the gold tooth points a finger in the bartender’s direction, makin’ you chuckle.

“Naw it’s alright, I ain’t so proper that a couple cuss words will do me any offense.” You wink at him, watchin’ as he gets off his stool at the bar, and offers it to you.

You sit on the stool in his place, and he leans up against his elbow on the counter. You try not to wrinkle your nose at how bad his breath smells, keepin’ up that pleasant smile.

“I’m Amos, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the doors with hesitation.

“That’d be mighty kind of you, thank you Amos.” Knowing to never ever refuse a drink or else risk gettin’ branded as disrespectful, you chew on your lip, “Although, I should probably wait for my cousin. He’s just over yonder at the drug store, but he’ll be right back when he’s done.”

“Well when he comes on in I’ll buy him a drink too!” Amos lets out a hearty laugh, slaps a couple coins down on the counter.

“I speak for the both of us when I say we appreciate the generosity immensely.” You smile, wondering what the fuck is taking Kylo so long.

“What’ll you have?” The bartender accepts the coins, pulls a big glass out from behind the counter and gestures to the three different barrel taps he’s got on hand.

“I ain’t picky.” You shake your head, not wantin’ to be fussy.

You’d had a taste of just about every kind of alcohol there was, from Pabst and Budweiser to home-distilled ‘shine. There wasn’t nothin’ you couldn’t swallow, even if you did prefer water above all else. The bartender fills up the glass with the frothy gold of some home brew, and knowin’ the norms, knowin’ how it’d be a sign of weakness to sip your drink, you throw back a big gulp, wipin’ a droplet or two away from your chin with the back of your hand, much to the cheers and applause around you.

“Damn! A woman who can hold her liquor deserves it, don’t you think, ‘Tidge?” Amos slaps the bar top, regardin’ you with another hearty chuckle.

“I sure do.” The bartender, ‘Tidge, gives you a freckled smile.

You look over your shoulder once again, and still no sign of Kylo.

Well, you think to yourself, if he’s going to take his sweet fuckin’ time, then you might as well get comfortable. Besides, couldn’t hurt to get on the town’s sweet side, in case you ever need to come moseying back through this way.

“I like that name, is it short for somethin’?” You turn your attention back towards the bartender, admiring his features.

He’s handsome, in a gangly sort of way. Those cheekbones could cut a man from how sharp they were, everything about him angular and severe, right down to his eyes, a swirling blue-green-grey that you couldn’t quite place. And then of course his hair, a bright orange with more yellow than red in it, you’re sure you’d be able to spot this man from just about anywhere in the town – maybe that’s why he was bartender.

“Armitage, but ain’t nobody calls me that unless I’m in trouble for somethin’, ya see.” He winks at you, his accent lilting and even as he wipes wipes wipes the counter and nonchalantly asks, “What might your name be?”

“Mary, and my cousin’s Benjamin.” You lie straight through your smiling teeth, and he smiles back.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something else, when another employee, a server of some kind, sticks his head out from a side door behind the counter and whistles for Armitage’s attention.

“Hey boss!” The server calls, “There’s a man out here askin’ about some cattle, says he wants to talk to you.”

At that, Armitage throws the towel down and groans, checkin’ the pocket-watch he pulls out of his vest.

“Aw shit,” He mutters to himself, callin’ back, “Tell Joey I’ll be right out! Pardon me Miss Mary, but business is business.”

You only nod, liftin’ your glass of half-drunk whiskey in response, and Armitage leaves.

The swingin’ doors of the saloon give way once again, and this time, finally, Kylo arrives. You can see him through the reflection of the tarnished silver mirror that sits up on the wall behind the bar, likely for reasons like this; so even the regulars at the bar can get a looksee at whoever happens to be comin’ and goin’.

You take another swig of your drink, watch through the silver as Kylo is stopped by a gentleman by the door.

“Hold on there partner, check your guns in.” The gentleman says, a hand on Kylo’s massive chest, stoppin’ him from walking in any further. “Thems the rules.”

You try to hide your grin at the fact that you had been so underestimated to not be stopped, but then again, Kylo was really askin’ for trouble just by walkin’ in, what with his naturally intimidating demeanor. You wonder if he’s going to fight the old man on that, but shockingly, he hands his pistol over without any hesitation.

“Whatever you say, sir.” Kylo gives a nod, before searching for you with a tentative, “Mary?”

“Over here Benji.” At the sound of your ‘name’, you turn and throw a hand up for Kylo to see.

“So this is the cousin, eh?” Amos slurps his beer loudly, as if sizing Kylo up and down, trying to figure out if that’s a fight he would win.

“Yep.” You reply, tryin’ your damn best to not regard Kylo with anything more than platonic interest as he weaves his way through the saloon.

Heat burns in your cheeks from how he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even in that menacing scowl he’s got plastered to his face, he doesn’t once look away. To him, you could have been the only woman in the entire saloon, and for all he knew, you might as well be. Even without his gun, Kylo still looks like the most deadly man in the entire bar, just from sheer stature and attitude.

It’s a good look, not that you’d tell him that.

You don’t get a chance to tell him anything, because as soon as he comes and sidles up next to you, he slips an arm around your waist, protective – possessive, sizin’ Amos up and down in reutnr, a challenge of his own.  

“We were startin’ to think you didn’t exist.” Amos grunts into his glass.

“Here I am, in the flesh.” Kylo’s voice is deep, deadly. It sends a shiver up your spine, you can feel the crackle of tension radiating off of him, so to mitigate any potential disaster, you push a full glass of whiskey into his hand, makin’ Kylo smile softly at you and asking, “How much for the drinks…?”

“This kind gentleman here took care of them for us.” You nod carefully towards Amos, who is lookin’ a lot less friendly right about now, now that he’s got his eye on the way Kylo pulls your body a little closer to his.

“Oh, well in that case, your next one’s on me.” Kylo pulls out a coin, balances it on his thumb and flicks it up into the air.

Amos catches it with ease, and grunts out something that you think might be a thank you.

“Benji, is it?” Another man’s voice sounds from just behind the two of you, and both you and Kylo freeze up for a split second, before quickly recovering and tryin’ your best to act natural.

“Depends on who’s askin’.” Kylo responds, turnin’ to see who might be inquiring about him.

There’s a table just off to the side, four chairs, only three of them filled. A gruff lookin’ man with ruddy red hair and a freckled face cracks his knuckles, gestures to the empty chair across from him. You swallow, lookin’ at the pile of cards that have been left abandoned on the table.

“We’ve just lost a player, if you’d care to join.” The man says.

You knew enough to know that when a man offers somethin’ like that, it’s more of a dare. And there ain’t no faster way to get into a fight, than by shyin’ away from a dare. Kylo knows this too, and despite the conversation y’all had earlier about him not bein’ a gambler, he knows he can’t not play at least one hand.

“Alright, but just once.” He says as much, using your presence as an excuse, “Wouldn’t do to go leavin’ my cousin all by her lonesome.”

Giving him a very cautious look, you will him not to do anything stupid. Armitage will be back soon and hopefully he’ll bring some protein with him, and you can enjoy a proper lunch and inquire about a possible place to stay for the night. It would be bad, for anything to happen now.

Kylo walks over to the table, takes the seat.

“What’s this?” He points to the little pile of cards, and you get the uneasy feeling that something bad is going to happen anyway, despite your silent pleas.

“That’s the hand he left behind.” The gruff man smokes on a fat cigar, blows smoke out of his nose, sucks across blackened teeth.

Curiously, Kylo lifts the cards just enough to see somethin’ that he don’t like, and he immediately puts them back down on the table.

“I’d rather not take ‘em, if that’s alright. Deal me a new hand.” Kylo requests, and that, it would seem, was the wrong move to make.

You hold your breath, eyes boring into the back of Kylo’s skull, hand itchin’ for the gun you’ve got hidden on your person, the gun that you’d be willin’ to throw Kylo at a moment’s notice, should he need it.

“It ain’t alright.” The gruff man shakes his head, his eyes grey like steel as he regards the pile, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”

“That don’t seem fair.” Kylo points out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t give a shit about fair.” The man is unmoving, unwavering, not once breaking eye contact with him as he repeats, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”

“And if’n I don’t?” Kylo asks.

The clinking sound of a holster buckle is what captures everyone’s attention, every single person in the saloon.

Amos, the card table, all the women and children, hell even that three-man band stop playin’, and all turn to look at him, at Kylo, who is now standin’ on the other side of the table, starin’ down the barrel of a gun.

The gruff man stands too, holds the gun level in one hand, holds the cigar in his other.

You itch to throw your gun to Kylo, itch to shoot the man dead yourself, but you don’t move a muscle.

Nobody in the entire saloon moves a single muscle.

“Now I don’t want this to get ugly, particularly not in front of my sweet cousin right over there, so I’m gonna give you a chance.” Kylo has the nerve to say, as he puts his hands up in good faith. He speaks lowly, quietly, so low that the saloon goes silent to hear him. “I’ll give you three seconds to go on over to that there desk and deposit your gun with the clerk at the door, which you shoulda done upon entering as is part of the rules of this here establishment.”

In response, the gruff man only pulls back the trigger, a mockin’ tone to his voice when he echoes Kylo’s earlier words of, “And if’n I don’t?”

You’re just about to lunge in and help him, when all of a sudden, Kylo lifts his leg and slams his boot down on the table, and before you can even shout to ask what the fuck he’s doing, you realize that the long wooden plank wasn’t secured down enough to be stable, and by kicking down on his end, the other end of the plank flies straight up, knockin’ the man’s hand upward, the barrel of the gun pointed right at his chin, the jolt of movement firin’ the trigger, bullet shootin’ straight up through the man’s head.

The crowd is stunned, speechless, watching in shock as the plank levels out on the table again, as Kylo kicks it down down down again, three more bullets flyin’ up through the man’s skull, blood spattering spraying onto the faces of the people in the general vicinity, screams and gasps at the hot hiss of red landin’ on their clothes.

Everyone is frozen, watches as the man’s body finally gives way to death, and thuds and thunks down to the floor.

The top of this man’s head is completely blown out, and Kylo doesn’t even so much as blink an eye, even now that he’s got blood on his own clothes.

“Y’all saw how I warned him?” Kylo barks out to the crowd, and they recoil more from this than they did from the shooting.

“We saw.” They reply nearly in unison.

“Anybody got anything they want to say about it?” Kylo dares, but when no response comes, “Good. Now where’s the fuckin’ bartender when you need him?”

Almost as if on cue, Armitage comes back through the side door, clapping away dirt from his palms.

All eyes shift to him, and Armitage has a look of confusion on his face for one second, one split second, before it morphs through devastation, to rage.

“Brian!” He calls out with the sort of anguish that makes you think Kylo picked the wrong gambler to kill.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, especially as Armitage jumps over the bar and rushes to the fallen man’s side.

“Which one of you sons of bitches killed my brother??” Armitage screams, so red in the face that you’re afraid he’s going to burst.

It’s then, that Armitage whirls around and gets an eyeful of Kylo – the kind of eyeful that means he knows that ain’t no Benjamin.

“Oh shit!” You hiss, hand slowly, carefully, creepin’ towards your gun.

“You!” Armitage seethes, leveling a bloodied finger in Kylo’s direction as he races back to the bar to grab a rifle, checks the chamber to make sure she’s fully loaded, and immediately fires a shot that blast through the wood of the table, sending the crowd shouting and screaming, racing out of the saloon to avoid bein’ struck. “I thought I told you to never step foot into this goddamn place again!”

Kylo makes a mad dash for you then, grabs you by the arm and yanks you back back back as Armitage reloads his double barrel.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you knew him?” You seethe, smacking at him, wanting to punch his fucking teeth out, wondering why he led you into the belly of a hornet’s nest.

The blast of bullets shatters the window above you, and you both duck your heads so as to not get struck by the falling glass.

“No time to explain, on my count, you make a run for the door and get the horses.” Kylo mutters, entirely too calm and collected, making you want to punch him even harder.

“Here take my gun – ” You offer him, but as another explosion sounds off a little too close to you this time, Kylo unveils two more guns of his own.

“Don’t need it,” Kylo grins, and for the first time, you see a sparkle in that blind eye of his. He scoffs, “What, you didn’t think I’d hand them all over, did you?”

You just widen your eyes at him, incredulous.

“Three, two -- run!” Kylo shouts, popping up over the makeshift barrier he’s yanked you behind, and immediately starts shooting, giving you the cover you need to make a bolt for it.

The band strikes up again, piano and fiddle and harmonica filling the emptiness of silence, punctuated by the sounds of struggle as a great big fights breaks out among the drunks and gamblers that Kylo has so offended.

It feels like a battleground, the way you dodge the bullets that zip past you. If you had made any friends in the time sittin’ at that bar, you’ve lost ‘em now, that much is clear. Amos has no reservation aimin’ straight for your heart, but your quick fingers pull your trigger before he can even manage, his dead body stumbling and tumbling like a bowling ball, knockin’ down the pins of his friends as they try to pin you with bullets of their own.

Run run running, you try to shove your way through the panic of the crowd who keeps scramblin’ like chickens with their heads cut off, screaming and hollerin’ from the way that bullets keep hittin’ and springin’ off metal and blasting into wood, holes riddlin’ the walls, lettin’ streams of sunlight in.

You shoot and shoot, punching and kicking your way through the crowd, knowing that behind you, Kylo can’t be too far.

You can tell because you can hear his grunting shouts, his adrenaline filled calls of rage as he too blasts bullets into the bodies of men, overturning barrels and tables, crashes and explosions going off behind you.

On the single street, you can see some of the townsfolk racing to the jail, and that sends a spike of terror down your back.

The jail meant one thing, and one thing only – the Sheriff.

Panic simmers and bubbles up through you, and you keep running, running towards the church where your horses have been passively entertaining themselves with a trough of water and a bucket of feed.

“Aggie! Sam!” You whistle for their attention, and at once, they turn their big heads to look at you.

Agnes braces herself for you to hoist yourself up onto her saddle, and you frantically undo the tie of their reins around the posts that they’ve been good enough to not wander away from. Holding Sam’s reins in your hands, you kick your heels into Agnes’ side, and great big plumes of dust and dirt kick up under the horses’ hooves as the great beasts immediately break into fast fast fast gallop.

Racing closer closer closer to the saloon, you can still see them fighting and shooting at one another on the inside.

“Come on, come on!” You’re screaming at Kylo from down the road, demanding that he hear you, that he get outside already, because you can’t slow these horses down once they’ve gotten like this, and you can’t turn back once you’ve passed the saloon, not with the commotion from behind, not with the way the Sheriff is now shootin’ at you, at your horses.

“God dammit get out here!” You scream again, lookin’ behind you, takin’ aim and shootin’ the Sheriff clean at the wrist, blowin’ his hand off, the gun explodin’ off with it, bullet ricocheting off one of the hangin’ signs, bouncin’ back and hittin’ the Sheriff in the chest.

You’re almost at the saloon, almost there, and Kylo still ain’t out front, heartbeat pounding pounding pounding in your chest as you approach the doors closer and closer, as you can hear the sound of gunfire and broken glass from inside – but then -- !

Then there he is!

You see him running through the saloon towards the front doors, and somehow, impossibly somehow, as you pass the doors, you throw Sam’s reins, and Kylo catches them, his long legs running alongside Sam’s breakneck pace, jumping up onto her without her slowing down one bit.

“Yes!!” You let out a triumphant shout of adrenaline, before whipping Agnes’s reins and urging her ever faster.

You and Kylo grin at one another, victors in this chance game with death, cheatin’ your lives once again, as you ride ride ride out into the desert, not lookin’ back to see if anyone follows.

[milky-maid-library]

CHAPTER 1: Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim.

Summary: 19 year old Elizabeth Hillard is met with the truth that she is actually a late blooming Omega.

Please read the trigger warnings and tags!: description of medical vagina examination, abandonment and verbal scolding/abusive tones. non-consensual treatment. non-consensual drugging.

Notes: A gift to @cursedcursingviking

“Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim” means “be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”

April 15th 2023, 13:00pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

“Holy shit, holy shit, no, no, no!” she was sobbing. Stick in hand, a horse shoe and a smiley face soaked in her urine on the tip. Five other tests were on the floor around her feet, all positive; all Omega.

She couldn’t believe this, her whole life said “Alpha, Alpha, you are an Alpha.”

Her parents were both Alphas!

She was meant to be an Alpha!

The possibility of being an Omega for her is less than six percent. The last Omega in her family was her great-grandmother on her mother’s side or some distant shit like that. Her aunts and uncles were all betas and Alphas.

Her family have always told her that “to be an Omega is to be a waste of time.”

Omegas were submissive, obedient, they were at home looking after pups or in the hospital at the nursery or at daycares looking after loud, slobbering toddlers.

Her family were strongly built, they were made of soldiers, police officers, construction developers, political leaders and company CEO’s. Not pathetic, whiney housewives.

Currently she was seeing her whole world swirling down the toilet as she flushed it.  She wanted to stay in school and study to be a high paid vet! Now she’ll be sent to a correctional centre or foreign country with extra distant family and forced to knit and paint until finally sold off to a partner or a birthing centre for science.

She sobbed harder before finally vomiting over the toilet bowel induced by the overwhelming stress.

Laying her cheek on the seat she glanced at her watch and cringed. Her mother would be home any minute! Picking up each test, she considered snapping them in half and clogging the toilet up with them yet what was the use? When scent was in the picture evolution was the final bitch.

Looking at the many smiley faces she felt like they were mocking her, laughing at her. Normally she would get angry, but now…instead she was sad. Tears sprung in her eyes again as she cradled them to her chest. Stumbling out of the bathroom she clamped up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door instead of slamming it. Gentle, considerate. Dropping the tests onto the side table, she fell into her bed and crawled under her covers.

“W-worst day ever.” She cried over and over, muffled by the softness of her pillows she inhaled in.

April 15th 2023, 16:30pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

“Beth! Come down here please!” Her mother called from the kitchen.

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed open, she was wrapped in a tumble of her sheets and blankets. Her mother must’ve just come just gotten home, she was always so busy with her corporate work, she hadn’t seen her dad in two weeks since his overtime in the city bank.

She could hear her call again, firmer this time around.

She groaned and dragged herself up from her bed and down the stairs. Her stomach growled, hungry. She wondered what her mother was planning to cook or if they were just going to have pizza.

Stepping into the Kitchen her mother was kicking off her leather shoes and ripping her suit jacket over the counter.

“What did I say about boys?” She snapped over her shoulder. Drinking down a Painkiller. Great, she was already in a bad mood. She forgot her mother only got her cornrows re-braided yesterday, her head must’ve been violently sore. Elizabeth tried warning her to not go into work, call in a sick day, but no one would attempt to change Mrs. Hillard’s mind once it was made, like most mums.

But boys? Now that Elizabeth didn’t understand the sudden burst of tone. She felt her body loosen and turn icy, her skin covered in goosebumps. She mother was furiously popping an second pill before her when Elizabeth shivered, “D-don’t bring boys over.”

She sneered, her canines flashing; her large brown eyes identical to her daughters, glared her down.

Stepping around her to the cupboards, she whipped out an air freshener and dosed the room in a scent of lavender…only to be clouded by hormonal pheromones.

She felt the air grow painfully heavy as her mother hissed and sprayed the can out, before furiously slamming onto the counter and slamming the cupboards shut.

“Then why the fuck do I smell an omega?!” her sharp nail pointed to the ceiling and she began yelling as though there was someone upstairs she was calling to, “You tell that bloody boy to get out before I haul his goddamn omega ass out onto the fucking sidewalk!”

Omega…She thinks I brought an omega over…She smells…me…omega…I’m an omega…no…no…

“M-mum…I don’t have a b-boy over,” Elizabeth stepped from side to side.

Her mother pinched the bridge her nose and sighed, “Well Beth…I didn’t know you were into girls,” gently reaching out, and peeled back her daughter’s silk cap lovingly releasing her coily hair, “…but she needs to leave.” Her mothers fingers touched her cheek, boiling. It was then that colour started to fade from her face.

“Mum, please-” Before the poor teen could explain that she was the scent, Mrs Hillard marched her way up stairs and slammed open the door to her room where a giant wave of humid Omega scent flew out.

No…no! Mum! Stop! No!

Her voice was silent, her lips shut in a worried grimace.

As Elizabeth ran up the stairs, she heard her mother scream.

April 15th 2023, 17:45pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

The hospital was…cold…the air-conditioning pelting down on her neck made her snuggle deeper into her sweater. Her mother was trembling just as hard as she was. She was shaken up herself, Elizabeth couldn’t tell if her mother was experiencing fear, rage even …disappointment. She hadn’t let Elizabeth touch her ever since she found all the positive Omega tests. When she tried to hold her hand, her mother growled at her.

Elizabeth though craved touch, she needed support, she needed her mum, she needed affection.

The waiting room was almost empty, the only other people was an Omega man with his pup in a sling while his Alpha wife continued to protectively touch their baby’s forehead. Elizabeth stared at the baby though… pups…where are my pups?...

“Elizabeth Hillard?” an English accent cut through the train of thought on the baby. In the doorway to the hall, the tall doctor was looking between her and the couple. When she stood up, with her mother hot on her tail, he smiled and led them to his office.

Awkwardly Elizabeth sat down onto waiting chair next to the doctors desk. Taking a deep breath she could smell the scent of Alpha and hand sanitiser. The overwhelming senses made her feel slightly nauseas.

Her mother sat beside her with a mournful sigh, she lifted her hand out to the doctor to shake it, “Julia, Mrs Hillard, Beth’s mother.”

He smiled, “Hello Mrs Hillard, I’m Doctor Cavill.” After the two Alphas acquainted themselves he finally sat in his wheeley chair and regarded Elizabeth.

“What can I help you with today Miss Hillard?” he smiled. Beth noticed how he looked so clean, and was built like a brickhouse, he smelt like an Alpha. The rooms light glinted on his medical wrist band proclaiming him as his blood type and confirming his own scent. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were kind, made of two colours, blue and his left eye had a tip of brown…it was merely something she saw...his smile was warm like a freshly baked cookie. Oh god…she was aroused.

Beth didn’t realise she wasn’t answering his question when he stared at her and her mother finally answered.

“She smells like an Omega.”

The Doctor then turned his attention away and pursed his lips and lifted a single brow at Mrs. Hillard, “Is something wrong with that?”

Her mother scoffed and rose her voice to a humiliating state. Elizabeth’s heart was beating fast, her cheeks were heating up and she tried sinking further into the seat. Her nose dug into the woollen shoulder of her sweater.

“Her father and I are both pure blooded Alphas! How can this happen!? The last omega we had was my great-grandmother and that’s it!”

Doctor Cavill sighed calmly taking off his glasses and setting them on his desk he then folded his arms and stood from his desk, “I see, well then Mrs Hillard, please step outside to the waiting room. I will need to conduct a blood and vaginal test.”

Her mother obviously huffed and grumbled about ‘how unprofessional’ and ‘surely I can stay’. Even now Elizabeth wanted her to leave with her hostile attitude. Luckily there was no way a female Alpha would argue with a male Alpha. When the door shut though it felt strange. All the heavy tension in the room lifted off of Elizabeth’s chest. She felt instantly calmer and made it easier to breathe.

The doctor sat back into his desk chair and crossed a leg over another casually.

“So…” he smiled, “How do you feel Miss Hillard?”

She gulped slightly and shakily answered, “Everything is smelling sweeter than normal,” she hated the scent of hand sanitiser but now it was something she wanted to shove up her nose. If it blocked out every other scent from the dust on the walls to the chocolate in the vending machine outside to the scent of the alpha right in front of her…she’d drink it all down.

“No,” he chuckled pushing back from his desk and started rummaging through his desk for medical items, “I mean, are you okay? Are you stressed or scared, or are you alright? I can always get a cup of water for you. But we need to take your blood first.”

She shook her head and tucked her neck deeper down into her sweater. Her fingers felt the scratchiness of the wool. She nodded and slipped the material off over her head and folded it neatly onto the chair her mother sat.

“I’m terrified,” Elizabeth confessed, her voice choked up, “I don’t want to be an Omega, I hope this is just a stupid puberty flux…maybe it’s a flip!”

It wasn’t uncommon for this situation to happen. Hormones can sometimes Flip and shows signs for the two other blood types, sometimes blood has become contaminated due to high iron levels or too much sugar intake. Diabetes were always Flipping the board. There were a million things that could cause a Flip in the hormonal pool.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an Omega you know,” her doctor commented sternly, holding up a needle, changing the needle point while Elizabeth choked.

She felt unusually insulted, “Everything is wrong with being an Omega, I won’t get the job I want and I won’t be allowed to come to parties with my friends, I’ll be stuck home with a…a…a fucking baby. Or sent to a breeding farm! I heard about the science experiments conducted on pregnant Omegas in the camps.”

The doctor turn abruptly at her and narrowed his eyes at her, he seemed offended. What does he need to be offended about, he’s an Alpha!

But his frown became a smirk, “You’re aware they are safetly committed with the Omegas consent,” He patted the medical chair in the centre of the room, “But whatever case, what do you want to do Career wise?” he asked while she crawled up atop of the tall chair and let him pull up her sleeve and wipe the alcohol on her arm.

“I want to be a vet,” She winced as the needle broke through her skin. She looked away from the bubbling blood being sucked up through the tube.

As he pulled away and capped the needle tip he asked, “Ever thought about midwifery?”

“I don’t like babies,” she snorted, “They’re so uncomfortable to be around. And I don’t want to listen to a screaming woman in labour.”

She noticed the movement in his shoulders as they slumped, he nodded and she felt like she was failing an unspoken test. She felt a rising anxiety, she growled to herself, it’s just a hormonal Flip.

“Fair enough,” her doctor said off handily, he sealed up her blood in a plastic bag and started to write her details. The pen cap lazily hung from his lips. He looked like he smoked…he didn’t smell like it though, maybe it was the way he stood. His scent was so easy to smell and feel…the omega yearned to know if he could smell her. And to her tragic uncontrol, her underwear were rubbing rough against her sensitive areas, the fumes dragged out this needing slick that was sickening.

Being omega is disgusting, this is what they do all the time? Gross! GET ME SOME ALPHA HORMONES NOW. She knew this had to be wrong, all the time she had been surrounded by alphas and she had been strong and confident like an alpha, maybe a little strategic like a beta. She was sure though she was alpha rather than beta and there was no possible way for her to present as a dormant omega for this long!

“How old are you Miss Hillard?”

“I’m eighteen,” she informed him of her birthday and he nodded, writing it down in the corner of the bag.

She was officially pissed off, crossing her arms she felt her eyes watering. “I want to be an Alpha or even a Beta,” she whimpered, “I can’t be an Omega, no way.”

The whimper…Shit! Stop whimpering you baby! Stop proving this point! Could you be anymore Omega!?

The doctor placed the test bag on his desk before gifting her a soft tissue “Have you taken a home determine test?” his hands settled onto his knees as he crouched down before her.

She broke out into a light sob and nodded, “ugh huh, I took six different ones…all positive for Omega.”

The doctor smiled sadly and handed her the box of tissues he had on his desk.  A nurse came knocking barely after she had started. It made her feel puny when she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She felt helpless, why couldn’t they just get her some alpha hormones already?

“Please take this to the test room,” he asked the nurse, handling a plastic bag with her needle inside.

Doctor Cavill let Beth cry as long as she wanted and reminded her that it wasn’t a hundred percent if she was an Omega yet.

The doctor rubbed her back and cleared his throat. From a draw below her feet he pulled out a green plastic cape, “Miss Hillard would you like to step into the bathroom there and remove your bottoms? Put the gown on?”

Time to get the vaginal confirmation that she was tighter than a needle hole. She pushed his hand away. God he sounded patronising, even if he was being merely polite about the events unfolding she took it as a personal attack, an underlying “You’re a weak omega, deal with it!”

No! I’m not an Omega!

Things were escalating to quickly; she barely realised the conclusions she was leaping to and how dramatic she was pushing with these emotions. She sniffed hard and snapped at him, “Can’t I just take my pants off now?”

Doctor Cavill shifted back uncomfortably, he grit his teeth and scrunched up his eyes, “I merely am offering a more comfortable option,” he clapped his hands, “But you may if you wish, have you ever attended a gynaecologist for a papsmear?” he asked as he got his tools ready from another draw.

She leaped off the chair and slammed her foot down.

“Duh!” She yelled, kicking her shoes off, and shoving her pants down, she was furious. Moodswings was a popular symptom of Flips.

“I just want to get this over with. Mum is so pissed off. Can’t wait for some fucking A-pills.” She grumbled, leaning back into the chair and spread her legs apart…normally she did this with a female doctor but right now she was too impatient to request a woman and she needed to know how fucked up her Flip was and how long would she experience it and how powerful would the drugs be. She couldn’t ever stand the look her mother gave her when she held up the positive determine test with horror.

The doctor cleared his throat again, snapping white gloves onto his hand and over his wrist band. He squirted a tube of lube over his hands and over the speculum, lining it up to her vagina and pushed it inside slowly, “Miss Hillard, please relax for me.”

She huffed to herself. I am fucking relaxed! No you’re not, you’re a bad omega, obey him!

The metal was cold inside of her but she was looking forward to the results: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, I am Alpha.

He took a flashlight and shone the light down her passage, looking down at her inner muscles, “How often do you practise sexual intercourse Miss Hillard?” looking up at her from her pussy.

Shit, the scent was strong, it was so sweet like maple syrup and honey but sweeter…lick me. Oh fuck please alpha please please.

She shook her head and blushed, “N-never, I’ve only masturbated. So….” She swallowed hard, her head felt hot and she swore she could feel cold sweat dripping down, “Am I an Alpha or Beta?”

The doctor dipped two rubber fingers inside of her, patting down and around inside her. And suddenly his eyes widened, he gently slipped out his fingers and the cold speculum out. On his fingers was blood…oh shit…

“You may sit up and dress Miss Hillard, “The doctor set his tools and gloves into a silver tray. She was shaking…what was she?

He was washing his hands in the sink right beside her head when she bit her lips and lifted up her undies and jeans back up. The room was so quiet, the only noise was the sinks running water and the air conditioner. Beth shivered and sniffled.

Doctor Cavill’s shoulders were low, he turned his head and faced her. Twisting his fingers together he shook his head, “Miss Hillard,” he started with a long exhaled breath, “You’re days away from your first Estrus.”

The earth dropped and the moon broke and the stars were dimmed…“What do you mean Estrus!?” she questioned. Tears spurted from her eyes again. Gagged by nature.

No fucking way. Yes way.

“‘Heat’, an Omega will go into Estrus or commonly known as Heat while an Alpha will go into Oestrus commonly known as a ‘Rut’,” Doctor Cavill tried explain only for the angry young woman to scream abuse at him.

“I know what it is! I must be going into Oestrus, n-not an estrus, I can’t be an Omega, doctor! Ch-Check again!”

Sweat trailed down her face onto her neck, her heart was punching her insides, seeking an escape of her ribcage.

When she tried undoing her pants again, her doctor tore her hands away and took her wrists up, he was breathing harshly through his nose, “Miss Hillard I’m going to have to ask you to sit down and take a deep breath. Listen to me.”

She shook her head over and over, she couldn’t believe it! She was finally sobbing hard, choking on her tears.

Wailing, “No, no, no, please doctor, please!”

Out of the depth of the doctor’s chest came a stern growl, “Sit. Down. Now. Or I will have to restrain and sedate you.”

Her body was out of control, she didn’t want to sit but her arse met the chair cushion anyway. Good omega.

The doctor huffed, shaking his head with disappointment, her head flinched down, cowering and humiliated. She felt apologetic, but this wasn’t the real her.

“Good girl,” he praised, handing her a paper cup filled with water from the sink, “Now drink.”

The water was gulped down in a heartbeat, she needed the refreshment even if she didn’t want it, her doctor nodded, “That’s it.”

As she sipped on some more water the nurse from earlier stepped inside and handed the doctor a sheet of paper. The blood results… she shook on the spot, her red face panicking.

“Pl-please.” She choked on the water slightly, clearing her sore throat she sniffled, “What does it say?”

There was still a chance, maybe he was wrong; maybe this was just a intense Oestrus that was causing her to bleed. Maybe it was so strong her vaginal walls were stabbing themselves, seeking out an omega cock to claim.

Cavill looked from her to the parchment a few times, he shook his head. He held out the medical sheet to her and pointed to a positive cross.

The world went silent even as he was talking to her…it was a distant noise.

“Miss Hillard, you are as I had diagnosed, Omega positive,” he scratched his gland gently, “You are days away from your first Estrus I will give you a choice to either battle through it with medical aids or medical suppressants.”

She dropped the paper and the cup, the shock was as cold as ice. She felt weak and her arms numb, her eyes rolled back and her mouth lulled open. Her life was completely over.

Elizabeth Hillard the Omega fainted.

April 16th 2023, 1:25am, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

When Elizabeth woke up, she was delirious. The world wouldn’t stop twisting and turning. Abover her was a bright light, she cringed away and whimpered. There was a mean bite at her wrist. She felt cold, washed out. Her body was laid out and angled up a slight. Her cheek rubbed into the soft hospital pillow. She smelt blood, so much metallic salt in the air. And her stomach was viciously growling. She peered down and noticed what was pinching her wrist. Handcuffs. She was handcuffed to the railing of her bed!

Clearing her eyes, she found herself surrounded by three blue curtains. One was quick to open, startling her. The nurse from earlier smiled at her eagerly, her Beta tag was super shiny in the light, forcing Elizabeth to blink rapidly, “Oh look, you’re awake. Can you please tell me your full name sweetheart?”

When she sat up slowly and moaned, “Elizabeth Hendrix Hillard.”

Before she could ask the handcuffs to be removed, the nurse smiled and held up a torch.

“Wonderful, now I am gonna need to shine a little light in your eye, can you please look into the corner of the ceiling dear?”

Doing as she was told, it was quick and over as soon as it had begun. The nurse was pleased, “Fabulous, right, I’ll be right back, Doctor Cavill needs to have a chat with you.”

“B-but my hand…”

Ignoring her, the nurse left.

Something was clearly off. Why did they handcuff her!? She started to tug at the chain, feeling her anxiety seep deep and activate a sense of fight or flight. The curtains reopened. And in stepped the doctor.

He grinned and nodded his head to her, “Hello there Elizabeth, how are we?”

She wasn’t amused in the slightest, quick with retort. “Chained to a bed rail.”

He smiled and whipped out a key, uncuffing her from the bed. She cradled her wrist, murmuring ‘thankyou’.

Her stomach loudly purred, extinguishing the level of discomfort she wanted to send the doctor. “…and hungry.”

“I’ll tell the nurse to get you some jello,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands. Just as he was to leave, she launched herself forward and caught his medical coat, “Wh-where’s my mum?”

He softly assured her, “She is just sitting in my room, we were discussing options after I showed her and your father your blood results.” Oh…dad…oh jesus…

She suspected her father to have been incredibly furious. How much furniture did he break?

“You…” she paused, “options…” she gulped and smiled at the doctor, “….I want suppressants...as soon as possible.” They would surely fix everything! She could have some and go have a coffee with her friends tomorrow.

“Not those kind of options…” He sighed and perched himself near her feet at the foot of her bed.

That was a weird answer…what does he mean? Could they change my DNA? Could they turn me into an Alpha. She had heard of some new sciences like that coming in.

“What other types are there?” she laughed hesitantly.

When he didn’t answer her, she felt the air grow heavy again…there’s a reason they kept you chained like a bitch.

There was only one other option….a correctional institution. She felt ill.

“I want to see my mum,” she gulped and moved to slip out of the bed. The medical gown was scratchy against her skin, she started to feel worse, her fingers scrunched up and unravelled. Her body felt dizzy when she stood up to quickly. The doctor attempted to block her way when she peeled back the curtain to many empty bed and a single door with a sign, “Farewell room.”

No, no, fuck, no! where’s mum and dad!

She hurried to the door and shook at the handle, but it was locked, she was locked in with the doctor. She couldn’t escape. The floor cleaner and bright lights were clouding her senses, blinding her eys and stinging her mouth and nose.

She ripped a heavy breath, not thinking it would be so painful after holding it in too long. I won’t cry, no, no crying!

“Elizabeth I’m gonna need you to calm down,” the doctor informed her, setting his hands over her shoulders, she was fast to slap them away. She lowly growled at him and bared her teeth ferally. Don’t you fucking touch me!

When she realised whatg she had done, especially to an alpha, she felt instant regret and guilt, she choke on more tear and buried her head into the doctors chest. His heart was beating fast too, but not like her rabbit pounding blood.

“N-no,” she cried, “I want my mummy!”

She felt the doctor soothingly rub his hand over her head and down her back. He hushed her until she was just a whimpering woman.

The door unlocked, and finally…“Beth…” her mother spoke out to her.

She snapped back around and saw her mother and father beside the door. Her father barely came him, his lips curled in, disappointed, disgusted and silent.

A tiny smile came to Elizabeth’s face, her hands reached out, “Mum!”

But Mrs Hillard stood back from her. Again and again. The closer Elizabeth sought out her mother, the more Mrs. Hillard distanced herself and stood closer to the door.

“M-mum? H-hug me…” she begged, “pl-please mum?”

She sighed and looked away from her, refusing to look her in the eye. Shame. “Doctor Cavill, your father and I believe it is best if you…go away for sometime, “ she clutched her own arms, “…where people can help you.”

Elizabeth did not see it that way at all, and she knew her mother was lying out of her arse.

“I don’t need to be helped,” Elizabeth sniffled and smiled, “I just-just need some suppressants.”

“Elizabeth,” she seethed through her gritted teeth, “Go with the nice nurses.”

“M-mummy, please,” She put her hands together and got to her knees on the cold tiled floor, “Please don’t do this!”

“STOP!” her mother screamed, “You are making a scene!” she rolled her eyes and turned around to leave, “You will go to ‘Saint Selene’s School For Adolescent Omega.’ We may see you during the summer.” And slammed the door closed.

She ran to the door and found it locked, she pounded the window with her fists and screamed out, “D-don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Dad!…M-Mummy!” her father and mother did not look back as they walked away, abandoning their only child. Their backs and bodies continued to  get smaller and smaller the further they walked. The sight broke her heart. The concept of betrayal could not be clearer. Her breath clouded the glass, her tears sliding down and tapped onto the floor, onto her naked feet.

Doctor Cavill’s hand reached out and wrapped around her bicep, trying to tug her back from the door. “Come on,” he said.

She felt her body move and she went into a frenzy of defense, “Let go of me!”

When he did not, she saw a lonely pen on the end of a bed frame with a clip board. She grabbed it and jabbed his forearm. The blue ink spattered across his skin while he yelled in pain.

“Get the fuck off of me!” she squealed again and held up the pen with both hands, take a few steps back from the now pissed off Doctor. The sound of the door opening again had her heart rushing.

Mum!?

To her massive disappointment, it was the nurse who was shocked by the scene unfolded. Now Elizabeth was surrounded.

“Put the weapon down!” the beta demands, holding up her own hands in defence, “Now.”

“Calm,” was the word she heard him say beside her ear, before pressing her back into him, grasping her jaw and finally feeling an incredibly long sting in her neck followed by the unusual flow of liquidised drugs into her body, “calm.” Her last thought was, that’s a lot of fucking morphine.

[flutter2deceive]

Inspired by @everybodyknows-everybodydies recent ER dream posts, I figured I'd share some of my ER dreams from the past year. I text myself whatever i remember after waking up from interesting dreams so that's the grammatically incorrect format they're in lol

buffy out on the streets moving vans with her strength, timothy olyphant is a vampire and he and his vamp buddies need romano to inject blood back into his circulatory system so he can go out in daylight again, they're taunting him like "come on didn't buffy train with you for a week to be a surgeon before giving up?", idk

The coolest stop motion video ever of this ER drawing turned into a storyline, mark leaves i guess jennifer and is running down the hallway to someone and i'm curious to see if it will be susan or elizabeth, it's elizabeth but then the pov switches to susan and she continues running down the hall to the trauma coming in and she high-fives abby and it's like the main point of contact for all the friendly characters when they do something cool is to high-five, watching this whole thing run thru and have the absolute biggest look of gleeful wonder on my face, i say some very nice words and hope they make it to whoever the author/vid marker are

In a steam engine room like that titanic ep of newsradio, there were also demons, so hell??, then there was a thing about carter being gay and in love with his best friend but then he called me lisa (which is my name) but i took that to mean that it was actually dave and it was a whole thing about maura tierney's fake ex-boyfriends?, and carter was out in my parents' front yard confessing his love but he accidentally stepped in the path of a chainsaw and the top of his toe got chopped off so then he was in a wheelchair

Kerry and elizabeth talking about sandy and mark and how they dread talking to henry and ella about them without breaking down, but it's also like they're still there, and then it's kerry and mark having the same convo but it's mark talking about his dad, they're in the hospital bathroom, a scene where sandy is temping in a library at the hospital and arizona robbins also working there and the implication is that they used to date, arizona comes up to sandy's table and notices that she seems to be doing wedding planning meanwhile kerry is sitting by herself at another table, arizona is judgy about what appears to be sandy chasing a girl who's in the closet and ashamed, sandy explains that kerry doesn't know and it's a surprise which is why she has the flashmob people standing 2 deep around kerry's table so she doesn't see the minister bringing the shrubbery in (this never happens in the dream but also what?? lol), then kerry has a successful hip replacement surgery that luka performed and mark is telling everyone about it, susan and abby were just starting to feel out a relationship and were making out in the bathroom

The er hospital but housed in an amalgam of my workplace and childhood church, i guess i'm like an orderly?, corday is pregnant and examining a patient and she's like ready-to-pop pregnant but she's still insistent that she's good to work until she's 8cm dilated and she's only 6 right now, we're all like dude go up to ob now, she's doing like yoga stretches on the floor to alleviate pain but still insists she's fine, meanwhile her patient is like ???, her water breaks and romano is gonna take her up to surgery, there's a space issue at the elevators and only he can fit, me and the other orderly say we'll take her up on the gurney in the other bank of elevators, we go flying down the hall and yelling for people to move cuz mrs corday's-- "sorry, dr. corday's"-- water broke, we get stopped by a security guard who won't let us through and then stopped again cuz there's construction in the warehouse, somehow romano manages to get lizzie but me and the other orderly are locked out, go to a bar downstairs to wait and nick kroll is there and he alerts everyone at the bar to the fact that he found several fan art/fic hits for "nick kroll/luka kovac" on the company's subreddit, he seems oddly intrigued, how weird of a pairing

In the future, there are no doctors because they're all burnt out from covid so healthcare in the future is just holograms of scenes from er but they're not the medical scenes they're the relationship drama stuff, alex kingston is named ceo of brain things due to her time on both er and doctor who, an interviewer asks what her favorite katy perry song is and romano answers for her, then maura tierney kicks everyone's ass at a banquet

The specifics elude me but somehow abby made it so that neela's memories of gallant's death are erased, and he's not exactly alive but also not dead, maybe she went back in time and changed something or had magic?, but neela is now texting with michael who is actually abby with his phone pretending to be him, abby is feeling really guilty for playing around with life and death and neela's feelings when she didn't have a gameplan, she ends up telling weaver she did something extremely morally questionable, now the two of them have to think thru how to handle the situation, neela is concerned now cuz michael texted that he'd talk with her at 23:00 but he hasn't called yet, then there's this really annoying intern that's pissing all the docs off, weaver starts to say something and ppl think she's gonna tell this woman off but she's like "this is an intern that's working here? She should be the hospital's lawyer", and then abby and susan smirk at each other and put on a tie? Idk but i think it's a different reality than the gallant-still-alive one

On a road trip or something and get back to abby's apartment, i may be susan but also possibly just me, we get the luggage from the car and while abby is trying to find her keys to unlock the door, we hear a noise from down the alley, the blonde woman that luka had been flirting with is near the luggage and is drunk or high, we wrestle with our conscience on whether to help her, she ends up asking to crash on the couch, abby and i get her inside and on the couch, we then end up sharing the bed and giggling

Caring for romano while he was in the hospital, mei lin from top chef is a med student and robert keeps insulting her, i think i might be corday, order a butterfinger and bottle of water from the hospital convenience store, go back to robert's room, he's muttering about the salad they brought him, i ask if he wants me to tell the nurse that he wants them to leave the salad for when he wakes from his nap, he squints up at me and smiles, says that his coping mechanism for stress is egg salad, idk

Living an ep of ER, i am susan, walking to my car alongside elizabeth, we're kinda tensely discussing when the kids will be at each of our houses for the holidays, i say let's just fuck it and join our celebrations, it's like a thing as if mark actually used to be married to susan and had a kid, don't know if it was supposed to be little suzie or rachel, elizabeth smiles unexpectedly and my heart kicks up, get in our cars and drive off, i am fumbling with a cigarette and the lighter from the car, drop them both as i'm driving down the hill out of the hospital parking lot, but now i am abby and have the season 9 hair, keep talking about this guy coworker i'm secretly seeing but it's actually susan and i'm trying to throw people off the scent, and there's something also about trixie and katya in this part of the dream but i don't remember specifically what, maybe guest star patients?

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#6 Kristy’s Big Day: Chapter 5

It’s Emergency Meeting time!

The next day is an OMGEMERGENCYMEETING of the BSC. And going by how the next chapter takes place on the following day (a Sunday), that means Kristy got the news about all the kids on Friday afternoon. So...did she keep it all a surprise during the Friday BSC meeting, and call an emergency meeting for the hell of it? Claudia's bummed there's a meeting on the first day of summer vacation (of course she would be) and everyone's curious as to what Kristy's going to spring on them.

Kristy mentions the wedding guest list is going to be huge, both families are inviting a ton of guests and Kristy and her siblings are allowed to invite friends. So guess who's on Kristy's guest list! The BSC and all their families! Hey Charlie...that means Janine's coming. Maybe you two can sneak off for a quickie before they cut the cake. And here again I must interject...if Elizabeth is freaking out that she has two weeks to plan a wedding, why is she inviting so many people? The BSC always makes everything so damn difficult.

Kristy tells them 14 kids will be arriving in Stoneybrook by Monday and the parents need someone to watch them. Her great idea of the BSC sacrificing a week of summer vacation to babysit all day is met with shock and awe. And then Kristy gives them the kicker...they'll be making $120 each for the week! 

*stunned silence from the BSC*

Kristy waits for someone to fall off the bed (oh nice. Stacey and Claudia? Didn't know you felt that way about them) or react like Oprah's audience when she tells them she's doing her Favorite Things episode. She says that's $600 altogether and surprisingly didn't ask Stacey the Math Genius to add that up for her. 

Claudia finally finds her voice and equates the money to her one personality trait, having the IQ of a teddy bear her passion for junk food. She can buy 120 bags of peppermints with that! That's a year's supply! Everyone laughs and throws out suggestions for Claudia: 300 packages of Twinkies! 1,200 jawbreakers! 400 packs of gum! My question is...where does candy come this cheap and please point me in its direction. Oh, and Mary Anne says 60 cartons of ice cream, and Claudia says that's the one thing she can't hide in her room. Please, you know she would try sticking it on her windowsill with the window open, thinking the breeze blowing by would be enough to keep it frozen.

Mary Anne's still hesitant, despite Kristy assuring her if they split the kids up, they're only going to be responsible for 2 or 3 each. “But fourteen at once!” Did she say you're going to be the only one taking care of all of them? Shut up, Mary Anne. A reminder from Claudia about how they're going to be making bank quiets her down. Kristy does a final vote on it and thankfully, doesn't call for a motion to be made and seconded...she hasn't gone into full dictator mode yet. Everyone says yes right away, except Mary Anne, who hesitates, then says yes, like the good pushover that she is.

A quick check of the record book shows Kristy has a sitting job for the Newtons (go figure), Mary Anne's got one with the Prezziosos (we're spared the “EW EW EW EW!!!!!!”s from the others) and Stacey's watching Charlotte. Mary Anne's off the hook because her job's an evening one but Kristy says they're going to have to call up and cancel the other two. Oh hell no. Mrs. Newton will not stand for this! We're talking about the woman who can't go to the mailbox without calling the BSC.

But wait! Before they call the clients up, Kristy has another Idea and says the kids can come over to her place. Mrs. Newton, overjoyed that she can still go to the grocery store in peace, is totally cool with it because she wants Jamie to get used to being around other kids, since he's starting preschool in the fall. And will be stuck there for the rest of the BSC series!

And what a coincidence - Dr. Johanssen was just about to call up and cancel because her schedule got changed. Whew. Does anyone else have anything to cancel? Unimportant things like dentist appointments or art classes that members are paying for and should always cancel because BABYSITTING ALWAYS COMES FIRST?!? No? Good.

Mary Anne takes notes as Kristy gives them the rundown on all the kids. There's the Millers - Ashley (9), Berk (6), Grace (5), and Peter (3). Mary Anne asks if Berk's a boy or girl. So I'm not the only one confused by that name. Is it short for something like Berkeley? Then there's the Meiners - Luke (10), Emma (8), and Beth (1). 10 may sound old, but remember the Pike Triplet Corollary: Age of 10 = Age of 6, Unless You're Mallory Pike.

Kristy calls the mansion to check about the Fieldings and Karen answers and excitedly talks about the new Mary Janes she got to wear in the wedding. Before Kristy can say anything, Karen launches into the other big news: Ben Brewer knocked over a vase! Kristy stays quiet and listens to Karen yammer away about goddamn Ben Brewer for awhile instead of saying, “Ok, I've heard this story a million times. Put your fucking father on!” Kristy finally gets Watson the Millionaire on the phone and gets the ages of his friend's kids - Katherine (5), Patrick (3), Maura (2), and Tony (8 months).

Anyway, they add Karen, Andrew and David Michael into the group, sort them by age, then divide them into five smaller groups. The group with the babies only has two, since they figure whoever gets the babies will have their hands full with diapers and everything. Mary Anne says she wants the baby group. Stacey shoots her hand up to claim the group with the oldest kids - uh Stacey, just because they're the oldest doesn't mean you don't have to watch them. Claudia gets the toddlers and Kristy gives herself Andrew's group, since he's more comfortable around her. And Dawn's the unlucky one who gets Karen's group.

Then Mary Anne gets a Great Idea (beat you to the punch, Kristy!) and we're spared the “Wow, I wish I thought of that!” line from Kristy that she usually has. She suggests they make nametags for the kids and color code them to keep everything organized. So now here's the groups:

Stacey - Red stars. How appropriate, that's Macy's logo! Dawn - Bluebirds. Cage-free bluebirds, who fly through undisturbed, pollution-free forests. Kristy - Yellow suns. What, no iron-colored fist shapes? Claudia - Green dinosaurs. She thinks they're green giraffes. Mary Anne - Pink hearts. Should have been blue teardrops but that color was taken.

They take a break,and Claudia pulls some more junk food out of different hiding places. Since Princess Dawn won't eat Ring Dings or Life Savers, Claudia goes downstairs to get some fruit and crackers for her and Stacey. She returns with Mimi, who has a tray of sodas for the girls. They tell her what they're doing, and she offers to help out if things get too crazy. Because she's Mimi and she's awesome. After she leaves, the girls plan some activities to do with the kids on Monday. Setting the stage for every single BSC play group/day camp/kiddie activity to follow.

[stainedglassgardens]

Watched in May

A Russian Youth (Мальчик русский) Sicario Fedora LoveTrue The Platform Water Lilies (Naissance des pieuvres) The Assistant The Half of It Tomboy The Last Man on Earth Beanpole (Дылда) Mommy The Fall Girlhood (Bande de filles) Carnival of Souls Marguerite & Julien Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu) This Magnificent Cake! (Ce Magnifique Gâteau!) Romantic Comedy Transnistra Eraserhhead The Farewell Emma. Late Night Charlie's Angels Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) The Ancestors Came Suicide by Sunlight Anthropocene: The Human Epoch A Perfect 14 Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist Free Radicals Aniara Vivarium La Pointe-Courte Diary of a Pregnant Woman (L'Opéra-Mouffe) Salut les Cubains Uncle Yanco (Oncle Yanco) GUO4 Atlantiques Sitara: Let Girls Dream Lions Love (Lions Love... And Lies) Živan Makes a Punk Festival (Živan pravi pank festival) Plastic and Glass The So-Called Caryatids (Les Dites Cariatides) The Octopus (La Pieuvre) Hyas and Stenorhynchus (Hyas et sténorinques, crustacés marins) Sea Urchins (Les Oursins) Bernard-L'Hermite (Bernard-l'Ermite) The Sea Horse (L'Hippocampe ou "cheval marin") Voyage to the Sky (Voyage dans le ciel) Le Vampire Freshwater Assassins (Assassins d'eau douce) How Some Jellyfish Are Born (Comment naissent des méduses) Shrimp Stories (Histoires de crevettes) The Love Life of the Octopus (Les Amours de la pieuvre) Acera, or The Witches' Dance (Acera, ou le Bal des Sorcières) Pigeons of the Square (Les Pigeons du square) The Slumber Party Massacre Jane B. par Agnès V. The Cranes Are Flying (Летят журавли) Crystal Swan (Хрусталь) Take Me Somewhere Nice Microhabitat ( 소공녀) The Unforeseen

Did not finish

Swiss Army Man (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, 2016) Braid (Mitzi Peirone, 2018) A Secret Love (Chris Bolan, 2020) Calder's 1927 Great Circus (Le Grand Cirque Calder 1927, Jean Painlevé, 1955)

Did not like

Sicario (Denis Villeneuve, 2015) The Platform (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, 2019) The Half of It (Alice Wu, 2020) Sitara: Let Girls Dream (Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, 2019)

I could take them or leave them

Fedora (Billy Wilder, 1978) LoveTrue (Alma Har'el, 2016) This Magnificent Cake! (Ce Magnifique Gâteau!, Emma De Swaef & Marc James Roels, 2018) Romantic Comedy (Elizabeth Sankey, 2019) Eraserhhead (David Lynch, 1977) Late Night (Nisha Ganatra, 2019) Charlie's Angels (Elizabeth Banks, 2019) Free Radicals (Len Lye, 1958) Aniara (Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja, 2018) Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan, 2020) The Ancestors Came (Cecile Emeke, 2017) GUO4 (Peter Strickland, 2019) Živan Makes a Punk Festival (Živan pravi pank festival, Ognjen Glavonić, 2014) The Unforeseen (Laura Dunn, 2007)

Films I enjoyed

A Russian Youth (Мальчик русский, Alexander Zolotukhin, 2019): Went into this with the single aim of improving my Russian. Loved the back-and-forth between “the story” and the orchestra playing the score to said story. The “story” itself is also tragically moving

Water Lilies (Naissance des pieuvres), Tomboy, Girlhood (Bande de filles) and Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu) (Céline Sciamma, 2007, 2011, 2014, 2019): I saw all four of Céline Sciamma’s films practically in a row! I liked all of them, don’t think I prefer one over another. And I recognise she’s a talented filmmaker, even though she’ll probably never be a favourite

The Last Man on Earth (Ubaldo Ragona and Sidney Salkow, 1964): A good... vampire-zombie film... that is worth sticking with even though you might find it too ordinary at first

Beanpole (Дылда, Kantemir Balagov, 2019): This story is fucked up! I liked it up to a certain extent, but I suspect it was mainly because of the historical and geographical setting. If you like post-WW2 Russia and this is the film for you

Mommy (Xavier Dolan, 2014): The portrayal of the titular mother hit a bit too close to home... This was my first Xavier Dolan film and I was not disappointed. Only drawback: Céline Dion’s song “On ne change pas” has been stuck in my head ever since

The Fall (Jonathan Glazer, 2020): It was... good? From the publicity it received on Mubi, I thought this was going to be a feature film, so yeah, I was disappointed, I loved Sexy Beast and Under the Skin so much

The Farewell (Lulu Wang, 2019): I really liked it, I think this didn’t get nearly enough praise -- but I was expecting something life-changing when I “only” found this very good

Emma. (Autumn de Wilde, 2020): This adaptation felt like Autumn de Wilde really, really wanted her film to be shown in as many classrooms as possible. It was enjoyable! I liked her additions to the book, and I appreciate the challenge she took up

Suicide by Sunlight (Nikyatu Jusu, 2019): A good short vampire film about Black vampires who are protected from daylight by their melanin

Anthropocene: The Human Epoch (Edward Burtynsky, Jennifer Baichwal, Nicholas de Pencier, 2018): Stunning visuals, sobering message. Somewhere between Koyaanisqatsi and Unser Täglich Brot in tone

A Perfect 14 (Giovanna Morales Vargas, 2018): This, by necessity, doesn’t cover everything on the subject of plus-size models, and practically speaking I didn’t learn anything -- but it’s well-made, and the personal stories of the main interviewees make a good, contrasted portrait

Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (Lorna Tucker, 2018): I came out of this feeling as if Vivienne Westwood wasn’t that interesting of a person, which I’m sure wasn’t the director’s intention... still, it was informative enough

Plastic and Glass (Tessa Joosse, 2009): A short somewhat-documentary about a choir in a recycling facility. Good music

The Slumber Party Massacre (Amy Holden Jones, 1982): Finally saw this! Very surprised to learn this was written by Rita Mae Brown. It was good as far as slashers go and of course, it is nice to watch something from that era that is not appallingly sexist

The Cranes Are Flying (Летят журавли, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957): I guess I had to read about this afterwards in order to see how unusual it was for the time it was made. While I watched it I enjoyed the way it was filmed but the story left me indifferent, and I thought it lacked subtlety

Crystal Swan (Хрусталь, Darya Zhuk, 2018): A very aesthetically pleasing story set in 1990s Belarus, about a young woman who wants to emigrate to Chicago for the love of house music... the story will keep taking you unexpected places from there. The costumes are perfect, the soundtrack is interesting. It does feel a little as if it were made for export, and I thought it relied quite heavily on stereotypes about Slavs

Take Me Somewhere Nice (Ena Sendijarević, 2019): This coming-of-age road movie about a Bosnian girl who was raised in the Netherlands and comes back to visit her father in hospital has everything... drugs, violence, death, even cute dogs. The pastel palette makes it very satisfying

Microhabitat ( 소공녀, Jeon Go-woon, 2017): This film about a woman with a minimum-wage job who would rather leave her flat than quit smoking and drinking whisky just spoke to me

La Pointe-Courte, Diary of a Pregnant Woman (L'Opéra-Mouffe), Salut les Cubains, Uncle Yanco (Oncle Yanco), Lions Love (Lions Love... And Lies), The So-Called Caryatids (Les Dites Cariatides), Jane B. par Agnès V. (Agnès Varda, 1955, 1958, 1964, 1967, 1969, 1984, 1988): I decided to watch all of Agnès Varda’s films that are on Mubi France and that I haven’t seen already, in chronological order. This feels a bit like a chore sometimes, but I find it rewarding. It’s strange to think that even a few years ago hers was a name I’d heard a few times but that didn’t mean anything to me. And I know I can be merciless when it comes to French cinema. Anyway... I like what I’ve seen so far (the above plus Cléo and Vagabond), I like that someone can just pick up her film camera and make a short about caryatids... generally speaking I like Varda’s approach to film that makes it seem more accessible to people like me. I don’t think all of her films are particularly good, but I like that she made all of them. I never did particularly like Cléo, and I didn’t particularly like La Pointe-Courte in spite of the fact that it was shot very close to where I’m from. Of the above, my fave was probably Lions Love, even though (or because?) it doesn’t very much feel like a Varda film. Uncle Yanco is a close second. I’ve got three feature films left now

Films I loved

The Assistant (Kitty Green, 2019): Unfortunately enough, this reminded me of an internship I did a few years ago... I found it uncomfortably realistic, and thus very good. Julia Garner is perfect, as usual

Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962): I watched this because it is a classic, expecting it to be over-the-top and not nearly as scary as I found it... a very good surprise

Marguerite & Julien (Valérie Donzelli, 2015): It’s hard to talk about this in a way that will make people want to see it without making me sound like a huge weirdo but here goes. It’s a story about a brother and sister who are madly in love with each other. It takes place in a fantasy past and is told like a fairytale. If you think it’s impossible to turn this premise into a good film please watch this

Transnistra (Anna Eborn, 2019): With this film I discovered the existence of the tiny unrecognised state named Transnistria... I also discovered Alla Pugacheva, who is part of a great nostalgic Russian soundtrack with Kino amongst others. The story is one of those documentaries about youth that punches you right in the gut. Definitely recommended

Vivarium (Lorcan Finnegan, 2019): This is the type of what, for lack of a better term, I call “minimal science fiction” that I really enjoy. I’ve thought about it a lot since then. I don’t know why people generally didn’t seem to like it. I thought the premise was terrifying and nightmarish, and the actual film effectively claustrophobic. Plu:s Imogen Poots

Atlantiques (Mati Diop, 2009): This is the short, not the feature film of the same name. I’ve heard a lot about Mati Diop and I saw this the second it became available on Mubi France -- and I didn’t regret it. Can’t wait to see Atlantiques, long form

The Octopus (La Pieuvre), Hyas and Stenorhynchus (Hyas et sténorinques, crustacés marins), Sea Urchins (Les Oursins), Bernard-L'Hermite (Bernard-l'Ermite), The Sea Horse (L'Hippocampe ou "cheval marin"), Voyage to the Sky (Voyage dans le ciel), Le Vampire, Freshwater Assassins (Assassins d'eau douce), How Some Jellyfish Are Born (Comment naissent des méduses), Shrimp Stories (Histoires de crevettes), The Love Life of the Octopus (Les Amours de la pieuvre), Acera, or The Witches' Dance (Acera, ou le Bal des Sorcières), Pigeons of the Square (Les Pigeons du square) (Jean Painlevé, 1928, 1929, 1929, 1930, 1934, 1937, 1945, 1947; Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1960, 1964, 1965, 1972; Jean Painlevé, 1982): I didn’t know who Jean Painlevé was before I decided to watch The Octopus. As it turns out, I am a sucker for well-made nature documentaries, and since all of these are short films, I ended up watching them all, in order of release, over the course of one afternoon. It’s a little bit crazy that these were getting made as early as the 1920s, and I can’t imagine what it would have been like to see them in theatres nearly a hundred years ago. Anyway these are all good, although I wasn’t expecting the vivisection that seems to have been par for the course in the early days

*

Yes, I really did watch 65 films in May. It becomes a little less impressive considering a fair amount of those were shorts, but still. Unemployment!

I have access to Outbuster now in addition to Mubi and Netflix, this time through my boyfriend’s account. It’s a French thing I think, and very cheap, but I’ve only just tried it with Microhabitat. Of course it was the Mubi Library thing that just completely sent me over the edge, and I want to watch all the things.

In June I hope to finish Agnès Varda’s filmography on Mubi and maybe watch some more Tarkovsky!

[writtenkitten18]

My Blood: The Day Her Life Changed Forever

-8 years ago-

"Come on Lily! Life is short. You got to live a little."

I roll my eyes as Bella and I walk out of Bella's apartment and begin our trek to Staten Island Technical High School. Bella and I have known each other since the 6th grade. We had the same English and when the teacher tried to kick me out of class for something that I didn't do, Bella called her out and defended me, which resulted in both of us being kicked out of the class. On the way to the office, Bella and I got talking and we started hanging out soon after that. Since then, we hang out after school at the Manhattan precinct where Uncle Fin works and everyone instantly had a soft spot for Bella. Eliot and Olivia sees her like a daughter, Munch sees her as a someone that actually agrees with his conspiracy theories sometimes and Uncle Fin sees her as someone who will always have his niece's back when he isn't able to.

We were all like family.

I cross my arms as the two of us stand in front of the high school. "I love you dearly Bella, but there is no way that I am breaking curfew to go to a bar that some indie band is playing at. We're gonna get in trouble."

Bella complains. "This is OK Go. They went viral with the treadmill music video and their music is fucking incredible. They're only gonna be in New York for one day and my uncle can sneak us into the bar as long as we can pay him $40 at the door."

I look at Bella surprised. "$40? Are you kidding me? That's twice as much as my allowance. How can I afford that?"

Bella shakes her head. "Well lucky for you, I thought for the both of us and got my mom to give me an advance on my allowance this month."

I scoff. "You serious? How were you able to convince your mom to give your allowance early?"

Bella shrugs her shoulders. "My mom is the best damn real estate broker in all of New York. It wouldn't be humane if she didn't teach her daughter how to hustle her way into money."

****

After I lied to my mom saying that I was having a sleepover at Bella's house(only half of the truth that I wanted her to know because I hated lying to her), I grabbed my suitcase and took a cab over to Bella's house. When I got there, Bella's mom opened the door immediately.

"Hey Lily. It's a pleasure to see you. Come on in. How has your uncle been? "

As I enter the house, I reply to her question. "Hi Mrs. Notte. It's great seeing you as well. Uncle Fin has been doing good. He and the squad just finished a major case so now they're celebrating the big win."

Bella's mother nods her head and places her hands on my shoulders. "Lily, I've told you constantly before. Mrs. Notte is designated for my mother. I've known you since you were 3 years old. Please call me Elizabeth."

I shake my head in reassurance. "Okay Elizabeth."

Just in the nick of time, Bella comes out of her room with her bag against her waist and a smirk on her face. She sees me at the front door talking to Elizabeth and she walks over to us. "Hey Lily. Ready to go?"

I nod my head in agreement. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Right before we head to leave, Elizabeth stops us at the front door. "Wait wait. One thing before you guys leave." The two of us look over to Elizabeth, who is staring at us with a look that I couldn't easily decipher. "Now I know that you guys will be close to Bella's uncle at the bar, but I still want to remind you guys of a few things." She counts on her fingers while she gives us pieces of advice. "Never accept a drink from a stranger. If you have a drink of water or soda, keep your hand over it and never leave it unoccupied with anyone else. Also, and this is most important of all, don't talk to anyone that seems very suspicious to you. If you see someone that looks suspicious, tell Bella's uncle and stay with him all night. Do you both understand that?" The two of us nod our heads in agreement, which give Elizabeth the permission she needs to sigh in content. "Good. Perfect. Now go on and be safe. I love you both." The two of us say our goodbyes to Elizabeth and head outside of the house, destination set on the bar that was down the street from Bella's house.

During the walk to the bar (most of the time was spent joking with each other about the hot guys at school), we came across a man who is rumbling through the trunk with a brace on his right arm. He looks like he's struggling with grabbing what he needs with his good arm, so I stopped the two from walking and I point over to the guy with the cast, silently signalling that we should try and help the man that's clearly struggling to get something that he needs. After a few constant minutes of the two of us silently bickering between each other, Bella sighs in defeat and nods her head in agreement.

Nodding my head as well, the two of us walked over to the man and we spoke up as loud as we could so he could hear us. "Excuse me sir. My friend and I were just walking past and we noticed that you were struggling to get something out of your car. Do you need any help?"

Almost instantly, the man turns around to face us and he looks over at Bella  with his eyes slightly hidden by the baseball cap that was on his head. "Why yes. That would be very appreciated. I've been having the hardest time since I hurt my arm."

Bella starts to help him  while I was standing to the side. "If you don't mind me asking sir, how did you hurt your arm?"

The man waves me off with his good arm. "Please call me Steve. I was volunteering at the food bank yesterday and one of the heavy boxes fell off the shelf and landed on my arm. It's not broken but the doctor doesn't want me to strain it anymore than it already is."  I nod my head with this thought that immediately popped into my head: 

The food bank isn't open on Wednesdays.

Before I could yell at Bella to run, the man pulls out a tire iron from the backseat and whacks Bella across the head. I try to run away from the man, but he grabs me by the hair and throws me to the ground, causing my whole world to go black.

[rhinoswriting]

A Life On The Road - Part 1 (A Luke Hemmings FanFic)

Overview: Elizabeth and Calum have been best friends since they were 15/14 respectively. Elizabeth is from and lives in the UK, but her family lived in Sydney for a brief 2 year period which is how the two met. 

With Calum’s band, 5SOS, embarking on their biggest and most ambitious world tour to date, he has invited Elizabeth along to work as a photographer/content creator for their social media. This is in the hopes that travelling with them and getting to explore so many new cities will help Elizabeth achieve her dream of becoming a full-time travel writer.

Elizabeth is acquainted with the rest of 5SOS but doesn’t know them tremendously well. Obviously that changes as they are all forced to be in one another’s company for the duration of the tour. As the tour progresses and new friendships blossom, Elizabeth feels the connection between her and Luke grow more and more.

A/N: This chapter is a lot of story set-up and introduces you to the protagonist.

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

I lent my upper back against one of the work kitchen walls and peered out of the window beside me. Any other day, the grey curtain of drizzle would have perfectly matched my work mood. But today was not a normal work day for me. Today was my last day in this hell hole. I was finally getting out of here to pursue my dream of becoming a travel writer. I hugged my mug of coffee closer, content in the knowledge that nothing was going to step on my good mood today.

“I cannot believe you are leaving me with these people.” Drew complained as he walked over and lent some of his weight onto my shoulder while cradling his own steaming mug.

“I am sorry that I’ll be leaving you here. I truly am.” I told him, and I meant it, “But you know as well as I do how much this place can drag a person’s mental health down. So when a best friend offers to let you piggyback off their career to help launch you own, you take it and make the sacrifice of abandoning your work husband.”

“I hate that you have a famous best friend.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch,” I laughed nudging him in the side with my elbow.

Drew and I chatted for a minute or two more before making our way back to our desks at opposite ends of the office. When I got to mine I noticed that someone (probably my manager or Josie, the company busy body) had taken my second coffee break of the morning as an opportunity to place an envelope and small gift bag by my keyboard. As I placed my coffee down I noticed that the people on my bank of desks had swivelled their chairs, and thus their attention, in my direction. I also heard the tell-tale sound of high heels on cheap carpet tiles that indicated Josie was making her way over.

“Elizabeth,” Josie cooed in her usual fake friendliness, “I can’t believe it’s your last day here already! We did a small collection for you in order to say goodbye and give you something to remember us by. It’s been such a great three years and eight months working with you. We’re all sad to see you go.”

“Thanks, Josie. I certainly will miss how precise you are with details.” I said trying not to make my sarcasm too obvious.

I rummaged in the tissue paper hoping to bring this moment in the spotlight to an end as soon as possible. First I pulled out a small, sleek rectangle. Through the plastic window of the box I spied a matte black fountain pen -it was a genuinely lovely pen which surprised me. Next I pulled out a small bottle of Kraken rum -my go to with Coke on work nights out- which was followed by a second, identical bottle. The fourth and final leaving gift was a new 10 shot pack of film for my Instax Mini camera.

“Thanks guys...” I awkwardly addressed the room, “These are all really thoughtful and nice. I love the pen. Uhh, yeah, thanks again. Stay cool and all that cliche stuff.”

I promptly sat down and unlocked my PC to indicate that the show was over and I should now be left the fuck alone.

The company’s internal IM program was flashing at me in orange, indicating I had an unread message.

[Drew Clarke - 10:47 am]  I am so sorry they are putting you through this. You look so awkward. I can see you blushing from here.  It is hilarious though :’D I made such a big deal about the stupid pen they wanted to get you having to be matte black Also my leaving gift to you is that I have done everything in my power to ensure Josie knows nothing about your leaving drinks tonight

I responded with a simple gif of some character I didn’t know mouthing ‘thank you’ to acknowledge his last message and then went back to work trying to complete as much of my remaining work as possible.

The rest of the day dragged on as it would any other day of the week. The only difference was that I had the occasional desk visit from a colleague to wish me luck or let me know they’d be at the leaving drinks Drew had arranged for me that evening. 

And then Drew was at my desk before the clock had even hit 5 pm,

“Start packing your shit up then. We’ve got a bar to get to.”

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

My leaving drinks were actually surprisingly fun. Which was as much of a good thing as it was a bad thing. 

It was good because who doesn’t love people buying them either shots or rum and cokes? Plus Drew and I had had a beautiful drunken moment where we gushed over how much we treasured each other’s friendship and would definitely, definitely stay in touch always, and who doesn’t love those moments? 

It was bad because I got in at 3:30 am, set an alarm for 6 am and left my house for the train station at 7 am with a hangover headache already brewing.

My morning then got worse when I remembered I had to change trains at Sheffield. Non-direct train journeys are enough of a pain without a hangover, rucksack, camera bag and 2-wheeled large carry-on suitcase to slow you down.

When I finally, and ungracefully, settled myself on the platform at Sheffield I glanced around to locate where I could get myself a coffee and some form of breakfast. I had a 50 minute wait until my next train so there was plenty of time to try and nurse my hangover with coffee and carbs before getting crammed into another train and eventually reuniting with Cal in Edinburgh.

I spotted a place on the next platform over with indoor seating and made my way to it. Once inside the warmth of the glass rectangle I grabbed a twin pack of almond biscuits from the counter display and ordered a large cappuccino as well as a breakfast bagel. I then went and dumped all my luggage (promptly followed by myself) down at the nearest table and waited for my name to be called over the mellow jazz music.

Once I had returned to my table with my breakfast order, I opened my phone to check my messages and view the photographic damage from the night before. As I sipped my coffee I opened my photos app and was pleased when nothing embarrassing immediately jumped out at me from the 50+ square icons of photos and boomerangs that I had very little memory of taking. Most of the photos were blurry and every single boomerang was a fail, so I deleted them to save storage space on my phone. There was a super cute selfie of Drew and I, with his fiance, Adam, photo-bombing us in the background. It made me smile so much that I set it as the lock screen on my phone.

Next I moved on to my messages. There we unread messages awaiting me from Drew, Cal, my mum and weirdly my now ex-manager.

Manager Si: Didd u mange t geet home ok?/?. Gd luk w everythin

Work Hubby: I miss you already. Hope you got home safe! Text me by midday so I know you’re still alive x

Mum: Good luck on this big new adventure of yours! Do not forget to call us when time zones allow. Your Dad and I will always b here to support you and cannot wait to see you succeed. Say hi to Calum for us. Mum & Dad Xx

Cal: Hey, hey! So stoked to see you later and have you come oN FREAKING TOUR WITH ME!!! See ya in Edinburgh! X

I responded first to my mum, because I was raised right. I flat out ignored my old manager’s drunk text. I assured Drew that I was still alive because if I was dead it wouldn’t feel like there was a gremlin hammering away inside my skull. I followed that up with a screenshot of my new lock screen. Finally, I replied to Calum:

Morning :) Feeling rough after my leaving drinks last night. Have I already begun my new rock n’ roll lifestyle?! So fucking excited to see you again!! You are not prepared for the hug you’re gonna get! X

With everyone replied to (or ignored in Si’s case) I put my phone face down on the table and tucked into my breakfast bagel. Then as I still had 20 minutes to kill I thought what better place to slap some make-up on than the middle of a train station coffee shop?

Looking and feeling more human, I made my way from the coffee shop to platform 4 as they announced my train was about to arrive. 

I hopped on carriage L, placed my luggage in the overhead rack and settled into my seat for the next 3+ hours. I quickly shot a text to my parents and Cal, letting them know I was on my last train. Then I pulled my noise cancelling headphones on, opened up a relaxing Spotify playlist and promptly fell asleep.

[gta5-watchdogswriter]

GTA V Scenario Part 1

Character(s): Franklin Clinton, Trevor Philips, Michael De Santa, Lester Crest, Elizabeth Lombardi (OC), & Gina Cast (OC)

Requested by: N/A

Requests: Open

Scenario:  A VDay serial killer?? Yuup!

Additional notes: Happy Valentine’s day!

————————–

“Ooooookay, what the hell are we’re dealing with right now?” Liz asked, slipping into the chair. Her gaze switching between all four of the guys and Gina. Out of all the days, they could call her in. But nooooo, they want to call her in on Valentine’s day. On the day that she wanted to sit at home, munching on all the snacks she could get, and watch movies all day. So, it’s quite obvious why she looked annoyed right now. Then again, they all must have been annoyed being called into a meeting on Valentine’s day. Couldn’t they do a heist any other day? Is today some kind of special day to rob a bank? Regardless, Liz placed her chin on her palm. She stared at Lester, who cleared his throat.

“Welllll, that’s the thing,” Lester explained. He looked at each and every one of them in the eyes. “We’re not dealing with a heist today or anything of that sort. We’re actually dealing with something entirely new this time. You see, there’s Valentine’s serial killer on the loose. Little to no information surrounding this person. All I know as well as the police is that this person ha not only murdered a lot of people but also using some kind of drug to make someone fall in love with the first person they see.” Lester paused and moved over to the board he written his plans on. The sound of his cane tapping against the wood floor could be heard. A whole map was pinned up. Tons of circles and papers hung all over it. He rose up one hand to tap one circle. A small red circle near the mountains. “The first several bodies to be known til date was found around here.” Lester continued with his explanation. He lowered his hand. “Several cases of both bodies and the drugs continued to pop up after that. Not only does that mean there could be more than one killer on the loose but also, they’re terrorizing a lot of these places.” “Eh.....excuse me,” Gina said. “Why the fuck are we’re here? We’re not police officers. We’re not detectives. We’re nothing but criminals here. Have you forgotten that?” “I agree with Fruitcakes over here,” Trevor said. He leaned forward to eye the board before staring at Lester. “Unless it involves money or getting rid of those drugs, then, count me the fuck out.” “Yes....that’s correct,” Lester replied. He turned to look at every one. “We’re doing this for money as well as getting rid of those drugs. It’s dangerous to obtain that kind of drug. Imagine the wonders it could do if it falls under the wrong hands. In which case, that’s exactly what is happening. Plus, I’m sure you want to be count in, Trevor, since it’s been said it started from Sandy Shores. Your territory, isn’t it?” “I wouldn’t call it that, but sure. Why the fuck not?” “Annnnnywaaaays, I thought it would be nice if we’re all doing this together. I’m sure a few of you all-” Lester stopped and looked at Liz, Michael, and Franklin before turning away. “- wants to get that kind of money. While others may want to do it for other reasons. Are you all in or not?” Silence fell between them. No one moved or made a single sound. Then, both Gina and Liz spoke up at the same time. “Count me in.” The girls turned to each other and flash a small smile. They turned away.

“Shit.  Why the fuck not, homie?” Franklin shifted around in his seat. He spared Trevor and Michael a glance.

“If the kid is joining, I might as well,” Michael said. “And the girls.” “Ah, if both Fruitcakes and Sugartits over here is counting in, count me right in.” “Then, that’s that,” Lester said. He looked as if he knew this would happen. That arrogant bastard. Regardless, he turned his back towards them and launched into explaining. His free hand already tapping each part of the map.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Everything Falls Into Place

Characters: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 1,152

Warnings: fluff 

Summary: The person you’ve been talking to for a long time, you’ve only known her online. Now it’s finally time to meet her.

Square Filled: Pen Pals

Author’s Note: I know you guys have requests and I promise to get to them. I have two bingos I need to finish before the deadline in Aug/Sept and by the rate I am going, I will be done before that so please bear with me. This is for @spnfluffbingo2019 and for Kari’s @until-theend-oftheline 2k Marvelous Writing Challenge and my prompt is “Don’t you know who I am?” - “Yup. I just don’t care.” which is bolded in the fic and if you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Something as easy as human relationships never came easy to you. Making friends was something you dreaded because you could never seem to connect with someone as easily as you connected with Lizzy. About three years ago, you had come home from a long night at work, drained from talking to your coworkers about their lives. All they seemed to want to talk about were their husbands, their kids, the parties they were invited to, and all you wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Something snapped inside you that night, and you decided that instead of waiting for the perfect man or friend to come along, you were going to seek them out. Since face-to-face contact never seemed to do the trick, you thought one of those websites that offered a pen pal might do it.

So, after extensive research, you had found Lizzy and have been talking to her ever since. The minute you made contact, it was like everything fell into place. Maybe it was because it was a relationship online or whatever you want to call it, but it felt real.

Over time, you two had been talking nonstop, every chance that you got. She had told you about her life, how she never felt like she fit in anywhere until she met you. When you told your parents and coworkers about her, all they did was pass judgment. “This Lizzy could be a man.” “What if they want to kill you and are trying to do it but gaining your trust?” “You can never trust anyone you meet online.”

They just didn't understand the connection you two had. However, despite emailing back and forth, you never once saw her face. Maybe it was for the better, to keep the mystery alive between the two of you. It was so easy to talk to her, tell her of your problems, confide in her when you couldn’t in anyone else. It was nice to have that security once you found it. She seemed to like talking to you just as much as you did to her.

Though, you found yourself wondering what she looks like, sounds like, smells like, and if she is as wonderful as she makes herself out to be. It’s been brought up from time to time about you two meeting, but nothing ever came of it. Maybe the timing wasn’t right.

You home yet? Your phone pinged as soon as you got home from work. Hearing that sound put a smile on your face because you knew it was from her.

Yeah. It’s been a tiring day. Coworkers pissed me off a bit, but nothing I can’t handle.

Wanna talk about it? Seeing that message made your heart swelled. No matter the time of day, what she might be doing, whatever you were doing, she always offered an ear to listen. She made you feel like you mattered to her, that your problems were worth listening to.

They had asked me about you, and I told them what a good thing we had. Shelly, the really bitchy one I told you about, she had to make the comment about if things were so great, then why haven’t I seen your face? I swear to God, Lizzy, I wanted to sock her right then and there. She just doesn’t understand what we have.

And what do we have?

I don’t know about you, but I feel like we have something more than just friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, and if I am, I will drop it and never speak of it again. But, you have been the easiest person to talk to since we met. I don’t care if it’s online. My coworkers talk about their husbands the way I talk about you.

I feel the same way. All my friends and family keep asking me when I might get a boyfriend or when I might bring a man home. But, the thing is, I might not even want a man. If I weren't so busy, I would drop everything and come see you.

I could be a man.

I’ve read the kinds of things you’ve written. You wouldn’t talk about bras and periods the way you do if you were a man.

Touché.

I really want to meet you.

Then we should stop making excuses. We should do it. I’ll fly to wherever you are if money is the issue.

Trust me, it’s not. I’ve told you about my riches and how people seem to think I am their bank account. No, I can come to you, but it won't be for a while. I have filming to do that will take some time.

Now, why won’t you tell me the kinds of things you’ve been in? Or how big they are?

I’m afraid once you see who I am, your opinion of me will change.

Lizzy, I hate to do this over a computer but I love you. A face to the person I know won’t change anything.

I think I love you too.

You think? xD

I got to go. Set is calling me. I will talk to you later and maybe we can talk about a meeting.

Okay, be safe.

The days counting down to the meeting between you and the woman you fell in love with were agonizing. In that span of time from when she said she can make it down to you, you had bought at least 5 new dressed, made sure everything was clean in your house and made sure everything was perfect for her arrival.

She was expected to show at your house tonight, and to say you were nervous was a complete understatement. Your thoughts were racing. What if she doesn’t like what she sees? What if you don’t? What if she is a man coming to kill you? Before you had a chance to overthink some more, a delicate knock came from the front door.

She’s here.

Fuck.

Walking over to the door, you took a deep breath before pulling it open. The person standing there was who you’d never thought you meet. Sure, you’ve seen her movies. You loved the way she portrayed her characters. She is nothing like her big sisters, yet, she always made you laugh whenever you saw an interview of hers. You never would have thought you would get to meet the famous Elizabeth Olsen.

The name Lizzy made a whole lot of sense now that you knew who she really was.

“Don’t you know who I am?” she asked with a shy smile on her face.

“Yup. I just don’t care,” you breathed out, grabbing her face and pulling it to yours. Smashing your lips against hers, everything else fell into place. She wasn’t just some username in a computer somewhere. She was Elizabeth Olsen, and she was right in front of you where she belongs.

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