#sorry to any sillies who didn’t make the cut (phillipe)

[crazymecjc]

have you ever looked at the cast of pandora hearts and gone “how the hell does any of this work?” because Me Too 🫡

therefore, for your viewing pleasure, I’ve put together a (decently) comprehensive chart of the four great dukedoms in sort of a family tree?? Yippee :))

Would like to note that not all of the platonic relationships are marked bc it would have been SOOOO messy 🫡🫡🫡

Idk happy comprehension of base level character dynamics to u :))

[3pirouette]

Fic: Say You’ll Remember Me (1/1)

Title: Say You’ll Remember Me By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 3599 Distribution: AO3

Story Summary: The first time he heard it, it triggered a flash back just as bad as any he’d ever had before. Later, Natasha told him he stood stock still, a sweat broke out on his forehead and his left hand shook just enough that she was concerned there was something medically wrong with him.

Chapter A/N: I’m… sorry? I have ALWAYS thought this was a Steggy song, and this just seems… angsty. But… I needed it. About/inspired by Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams. Wildest Dreams came out in 2014, so this is set just before the events of Winter Soldier, in 1945 just prior to the train incident, and post End Game.

If you know of any other Wildest Dreams inspired fics, please tell me where I can find them. I NEED THEM.

I know that I am VERY vague in how I reference this song in the story. I don’t want the story to be about the song, but rather Steve’s reaction to it. Also, I wrote some HORRENDOUS song-fic back in the day- lyrics before sections, italicized in sections… crazy references throughout the story text. And not that there’s ANYTHING wrong with that- but I’ve been there, I’ve done that, and I ain’t going back. So… this isn’t song fic- it’s just inspired by. However, if you haven’t ever heard Wildest Dreams, 1. How did you manage that? And 2. PLEASE go listen to it before/while reading because it will change this for you.

~*~

The first time he heard it, it triggered a flash back just as bad as any he’d ever had before. Later, Natasha told him he stood stock still, a sweat broke out on his forehead and his left hand shook just enough that she was concerned there was something medically wrong with him. He stood there with his eyes boring a hole into nothing for so long that she worried other people were going to start noticing.

He remembered Natasha’s voice pulling him out of it, the way she drifted into his consciousness, the way the vision faded from his reality to the world around him, the way her face stayed calm but her eyes were concerned.

“Where did you go?” she asked gently, just as acquainted as any of them with the traumatic effects of the lives they lived.

Steve had to clear his throat before he could speak, the memory left him choked up and just a little heartbroken. “A long time ago,” he managed to get out, low and hoarse.

“Want to talk about it?” Natasha asked, the mask of the ever-adaptable spy slipping, revealing the friend beneath.

He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and started moving forward on the street again, the sound of music coming from the store next to them fading away, the song now different and far less triggering. “No.”

“Offer stands,” she tossed out flippantly, the mask sliding back into place as she kept pace beside him.

He managed to make it through the day, and their mission, without opening the pandora’s box of emotion that one silly song had caused, but that night he dreamed, vividly.

~*~

It was rare, to get leave. Even more rare to get leave at the same time.

Bucky stole a jeep, and the Commandos piled in, heading to the only pub in driving distance that was remotely open after a bombing raid a few weeks ago.

He didn’t know she had leave, she hadn’t mentioned it, but Peggy knew he had leave, and it wasn’t a mistake that she just managed to be at the pub, waiting at the bar, manicured nails tapping the wood nervously as he walked through the door.

He knew it wasn’t a mistake when Bucky pushed him towards her, the guys laughing and raising their eyebrows good naturedly, Peggy smiling at them like she was in on it all along.

They had been, and she had been, and Steve thought it was the best surprise he could have asked for. “You look beautiful,” he started, still a little off balance. “Nice to get out of the uniform.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Well, it was the nicest dress I had for the occasion.” She reached out, letting her hand fall over his shirt. “You clean up nice, as well.”

Steve laughed nervously. “Best I could manage. Most of the clothes I have are uniforms or from before…”

“Probably a tight fit,” she joked, letting her hand ghost over the arm of his shirt. “Though this fits well.”

“Bucky’s.” He looked past her shoulder at the guys who were looking back at them. Dum Dum raised his glass and his eyebrows suggestively, and he shook his head at them, looking back at Peggy. “Why didn’t you tell me you had leave?”

She shrugged, her curls bouncing over her shoulder. “Quite frankly, I thought Phillips would pull it any minute, right up until I left.” She turned and took a long sip of her wine. “I’m surprised he let any of us go, really.”

He was entranced by her, seeing her away from the base, seeing her seem so much more relaxed, so much happier, gave him a sense of purpose. They’d stolen kisses behind tents and held hands when they thought no one could see them in the dark, but they were still dancing around one another in a way that was both frustrating and enticing. This seemed like the first real chance they had to be themselves, to be more than Captain and Agent, and solidify the stolen moments as something much more meaningful. It was, very nearly, a real date. “Maybe… maybe we should get out of here.”

She didn’t need convincing. “Alright.”

Steve knew he’d made the right choice as the sounds of catcalls and whistles came from the Commando’s table in the back. Outside, where the air was just a little fresher and a little cooler, and he felt safe twining his hand in hers away from prying eyes that would gossip the next day.

They walked slowly up the little road, not knowing exactly where they were or where they were going, they managed to come across a small bridge on the edge of a park, just the barest hint of water trickling over the rocks beneath it as the sun started to sink in the sky, bathing them in a bright golden light.

She pulled him to a stop, looking out over the edge of the bridge. “Seems untouched, don’t you think?”

He stopped, watching her come alive in the lushness of the space. She seemed so happy to be away from mud and ranks and tents, that it almost physically hurt to know he’d have to bring her back. He took in the little park, the first hints of spring starting to bloom in the grass and trees surrounding what he was sure would be a lovely little creek once the spring rain started. “Beautiful.” He smirked, “But not quite as lovely as you are.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, unable to take the compliment. “Cheeky.”

He didn’t let her spoil it, though. “I wish I could draw you, just like this.” He looked her over, surrounded by the bright greens of the new spring, her dress and hair bouncing in the light breeze, her red lips standing out and begging to be kissed, the light in her eyes seemingly untouched by the war. His heart thudded in his chest with how beautiful she looked, how bright and vibrant. “I want to remember you like this forever.”

His words surprised her, and her smile softened. “You’ll remember me. That photographic mind of yours won’t let you forget, I’m sure, and then one day you can paint me, just like this, and they’ll hang it in the Louvre.”

He chuckled, taking a moment to look over every inch of her, hoping it would really commit to his memory like she seemed to think. “If they ever hang anything of mine in the Louvre, it’ll be because I was Captain America, not because it’s any great work of art.” He leaned on his elbows on the rail next to her, changing the topic quickly before she could form a rebuttal. “Rare to find anyplace out here that looks like this,” he mused quietly.

She wound her arm around his, leaning her head on his shoulder as she gazed out at the slow sunset. “It will take years for some places to recover… decades, even.”

Steve nodded, the feeling of her warmth against him comforting. “People are resilient. We’ve seen that already.” He reached over, letting his hand cover hers, gently moving the pads of his fingers over her bright red nails for long, quiet moments. “After the war—”

“After the war,” she sighed, cutting him off. Peggy leaned away, turning and taking his hand in hers. “There will be an ‘after the war,’ Steve.”

“I know,” he nodded, a soft smile on his lips, though her change in demeanor from soft and happy to serious and concerned did catch him off guard.

She almost laughed, huffing a bit then squaring her shoulders just like she did when she had to tell Phillips something he didn’t want to hear. “No one’s ever accused me of being overly sentimental,” she started, fighting to keep her eyes on him.

Steve just smiled, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “I think I’ve come to appreciate your… Britishness.”

She did laugh at that, and he watched just a little of the anxiety fall from her shoulders. “What I’m trying to say, what I want to say…” Peggy laughed again, a bright burst of nervousness. She turned away, mumbling to herself, “Good lord, why is this so difficult?”

Steve gave just the barest tug to her hand, bringing her back to him, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Just say it, Peg.”

She took a deep breath, and it all tumbled out. “I haven’t seen futures with people before. I haven’t wanted to… or, or needed to. Even… even with Fred it was just… I just expected it was what I was supposed to do. And then with this war, it was harder and harder to see past what tomorrow might bring. But Steve…” Peggy smiled, like she finally knew exactly what she needed to say. “Steve, I see a future with you. I see tomorrow, and the day after, and next month, and next year. I want…” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I want there to be an ‘after the war’ with you, even though I know I don’t show it much. Even though I know I can be hard to read sometimes. Even though I don’t write you long love letters when you’re away and I don’t spritz my perfume on your pillow for when you get back. I know I don’t always show it, but I want that. I want an ‘after the war’ with you.”

He knew he was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t help it. “I want that, too, Peg.”

Peggy took a deep breath, smiling. “Good. Good. Yes.” Though she fought to keep it inside, her relief showed in how her eyes sparkled. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Steve looked down at their hands, then back up to her. “I want to grow old with you, Peg, if you’ll have me.”

The sun was setting, shading her pink and purple, more like a dream now than anything. She squeezed his hand tight. “Yes, I think that’s quite a good idea.”

He kissed her, soft and gentle at first, but they quickly found themselves carried away and breathless, with her pressed up against the rough rock of the bridge.

Steve pulled away, her red lipstick staining his mouth, branding him as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, I…”

“No,” she whispered, equally as breathless. Stolen moments always seemed to end like this, and she was having none of it tonight. “No, don’t be. In fact, I’ve rented a room not far from the bar.”

“Peg…” He still hadn’t caught his breath, one hand still caressing over her ass as the other untangled itself from her skirt. He wasn’t sure if he was declining her offer, or simply asking her to rethink it. So much of their restraint had been to keep her reputation safe, to protect what little credibility she had with some generals who felt she shouldn’t be where she was in the SSR. It was a reaction to say they needed to stop, to pause, to protect her.  

“I’m not waiting until after the war to love you,” she retorted, taking his chin in her hands. “Not when I have you right here, right now.”

He kissed her again as the sun set behind them. “You’re right,” he whispered against her lips, taking her hand tight and pulling his handkerchief out to wipe the lipstick from his face. “Which way?”

~*~

When he woke up that next morning with the feeling of her lips still on his and her skin beneath his fingers, Steve hoped to never hear that song again.

It was popular, though, and it felt like everywhere he went he heard the lilting soprano: in grocery stores and walking on the street and on the radio. Most of the time when he heard it he was in public, and had no choice but to grit his teeth as the lyrics cut him to the quick, his mind supplying an image like a movie that looped over in slow motion, that distracted him and slowed his body down and made his heart beat quicker.

By somewhere around the twentieth time he heard it, he sat down and found the lyrics online and read them word by word, ignoring how his eyes welled up and how he felt an emptiness deep in his gut.

At least he knew the enemy now, knew the words that had snuck past his conscious mind and triggered what should have been a happy memory but was now only a signal of lost opportunities… lost time…

Lost love.

~*~

“I do wish you’d stop coming, Steve.”

Her words seemed at odds with the way she cradled his hand in both of hers. He lifted his other hand, setting it on top of hers gently, gripping her hands so, so softly. Sometimes, he was afraid she’d break under his touch she seemed so frail. “What do you mean?”

She laughed, and he saw the spirit that, no matter how her body failed her, was tough as nails. “I’m barely lucid these days.” The laughter was less frivolity and more self-pity, though, and he felt her fingers grasp at his as she kept their gazes locked, serious. “I don’t want you to remember me like this.

“Peggy,” he whispered, his words failing him.

There was no reassuring smile left for him. “I don’t want anyone to remember me like this.”

He looked away, hiding tears that had formed in his eyes. “I can’t just leave you here alone.”

Her whisper was soft and resigned. “I won’t know the difference.”

He left her, hours later, unsure if he should heed her request or hope she forgot it by the next time she showed up. He sat on his bike, trying to force himself to re-center, when a car stopped on the street a few feet away at a red light, windows down, the only song he didn’t want to hear at the moment blaring from its speakers.

He shoved his helmet on, knowing that at the very least, people wouldn’t be able to see his tears through the face shield.

~*~

Weeks later, the song had been replaced by some innocuous pop hit on replay on radio stations, and he started to breathe easier in public when there was ambient music playing. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could hear it and not think of her, of that day in 1945, of her lying in the bed at the nursing home, and be hit like a freight train with pain and loss.

Which is why, when the familiar heartbeat started to play one morning as he was cracking an egg into a frying pan for his breakfast, he was surprised to find the radio in pieces in his hands, the smoke of the burning egg breaking him out of the trance that had taken time, and the radio, from him.

He supposed it was safer if he stuck to his records. At least with those, he knew what kind of memories and melancholy he was in for with each mournful trumpet. He’d never imagined a song could cause physical pain before, but as he cleaned up the burnt egg and pulled the sparking end of the radio’s cord out of the wall socket, he couldn’t doubt that there was something about that song, something about the way this woman sang those words, that broke him just a little bit more each time he heard them.

~*~

He let his hand run over the cloth, just as soft as he remembered, though he didn’t remember the line of neat stitches at the hemline. He hadn’t known, until right this moment, she still had it.

“Steve?” Her voice floated through the hallway and back to him in the bedroom. He looked up just in time to find Peggy peeking around the door frame, smile on her bright red lips. “Find me something suitable to wear for this mystery date?”

A different him, a younger him, would have been embarrassed at being caught going through her dresses even though she’d asked, despite all that they shared now, but he was neither embarrassed nor bashful about it. “Sorry, got caught up.”

Peggy never seemed anxious about his little moments here and there, when a memory or loss hit him and he needed a minute to shake it. She was just as well acquainted with those moments, and those kinds of losses, herself.

Just like so many friends he’d lost, so many people he’d left both by circumstance and by choice too many times over now, everyone he seemed to know had lost something to the ravages of war.

She stopped, slipping into the room quiet as a mouse in her bare feet and robe, her voice calm and gentle. “No matter. I just need to get dressed. A preference?” She moved to him, the violet scent of her powder still hanging around her from just finishing her hair and make up for their dinner out. She took the dress from his hands and smiled fondly. “Oh, I remember this one. And our little… walk… that night.”

She held it up against her and shifted side to side, a vague model of it, as she smiled brightly.

The memory still punched him in the gut, even with her right there in front of him. He knew the singer wouldn’t be born for decades yet, and still he could have sworn he heard that damn song ringing in his ears.

She let the dress fall to her side, reaching out to take his hand. “Something wrong?”

He’d been back for months, and yet he still worried that she didn’t understand. “I remember,” he whispered, looking away. “I remember you on that bridge, smiling at me like we had our whole lives ahead of us.”

She held his hand tight, her voice low and serious, “We do.”

“But we didn’t,” he whispered fiercely, turning back to her. “Not when I was there- in that future or that timeline or whatever it was.” He shook his head and lifted the fabric of the skirt in his free hand, looking at the cloth as if it held the mysteries of the universe. “All I had left was this memory of you, standing on that bridge, with your hair waving in the wind and your bright red lips smiling at me like you didn’t have a care in the world. I had that memory so clear it felt like I could touch it, and it was everything I’d lost.”

She dropped the dress and it fell from his fingers between them as she moved closer, cradling his face in her hands. “I’m right here, right now, Steve.”

He couldn’t stop the heavy weight of his voice. “I’d lost you, and I’d lost my future when I woke up there.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I lost my ‘after the war,’ because when I woke up there was just one fight after another and the war was never over.”

“It’s over now.” Her voice was thick with her own emotion as her thumb traced his cheek. “And you found your way back to me.”

“Peg,” he didn’t like the way his voice cracked when he said her name, but there was little he could do to stop it.

She pulled him close, kissing him fervently. “You’ll never have to remember me again, Steve.” She nuzzled her cheek close to his, pulling him even closer. “I’m right here. And God himself couldn’t tear me away from you again, do you understand?”

He clutched at her, holding her tight, as he nodded against her neck.

“We’ll stay in tonight, yeah?” She pressed her lips against his neck, and not or the first time he was struck with how thankful he was for this second chance.

~*~

He thought it was fitting that the first time he heard it again was right after her funeral, right after he was done shaking hands and consoling grandchildren and was still half dressed in his suit with no tears left to cry.

He hadn’t been avoiding it, truthfully hadn’t thought about it in years. But as soon as he heard that lilting soprano again, he stopped in his tracks.

This time, he sat and turned the radio louder.

This time, he could remember not only that moment of her on the bridge, telling him she wanted a future with him, but that night in her house, only months after he’d shown up on her doorstep.

He remembered the way she looked when they got married by the Justice of the peace.

The way cuddled next to him on the couch, scowling as soon as the Captain America Adventure Hour came on the radio.

The way she smiled at him when she told him she wasn’t deathly ill, but rather pregnant.

The way she looked with their daughter at her feet and their son on her hip, playing dolls as she talked with Phillips about national security over the phone.

He remembered all of these things and more: ever blinding smile, every tear, every laugh in their time “after the war” together.

He didn’t shake, didn’t freeze up, but rather felt a small, warm feeling in his chest: happiness tinged with just enough loss that the song still felt like an old, unwelcome friend.

He waited until the last, breathless notes were sung and snapped off the radio, done with music for the night.

If her were lucky, he’d see her in his dreams tonight, and that would be no bad thing.

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather | 6/?

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Marina Thompson/Phillip Crane, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Kate Sheffield/Anthony Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

It was a little wrong to sneak out and leave Eloise alone with a man that she’d just met but Penelope was willing to wager that their friendship would survive this slight.  They’d had plenty of disagreements over the years and they nearly always made up. Nine times out of ten, their disagreements revolved around little secrets that Penelope wasn’t quite prepared to divulge and Eloise failing to be observant about them or Eloise being a little overly pushy with her own feelings and opinions.

This time would be different. Penelope had already made her mind up about this. She had every intention of sitting her down, having a heart to heart conversation about this Colin thing but first she had to be sure that there was actually going to be one.  She didn’t actually know what was happening. She just knew that she’d always wanted something to happen and it was and she was terrified if she stopped it, she’d never be this lucky again.

That was why she dragged Colin away from the corner they’d disappeared to for longer than was appropriate to find Eloise and Phillip at the bar.  She had a single-mission apologize away and then go. She’d ask for forgiveness later.

“There you two are,” Eloise asked suspiciously eyeing them curiously.

Phillip oddly didn’t look suspicious at all though Penelope did pick up on a hint of some sort of secret smile toward Colin.  It definitely didn’t go without notice and it did strike her that perhaps Colin had known precisely what he was doing tonight. They weren’t the distraction for Phillip. Phillip was the distraction for Eloise. He was a reasonably good-looking, nice guy and it had worked swimmingly. Penelope had to give credit where credit was due.

“Yeah, sorry – I think something I had at lunch didn’t settle well,” she said, telling a little white lie.  She might have failed by not exactly telling Colin more than they were going to be leaving as he looked confused for a fraction of a second.

“Oh, so… Colin is going to escort you home then?” Phillip said with the save.

Penelope hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him much but she already really liked this guy.  He clearly was getting the memo.

She was starting to wonder if she’d sucked all the oxygen from Colin’s brain when he didn’t jump in on this.  She elbowed him slightly which seemed to trigger him into action.

“Of course,” he said after a moment. “I’m really sorry that we didn’t have much time to hang out but hopefully Eloise hasn’t bored you too much.”

Eloise seemed to think this meant she needed to go too.  She started grabbing her bag, trying to stand.

“I hate that our night was cut short-“

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of stealing you away from Phillip,” Penelope said after a moment, leaning into Colin for full effect and trying to will herself to look pathetic. “Please stay so his night isn’t ruined. Colin can take care of me.”

Eloise was definitely suspicious.  Her eyes moved back and forth between Colin who had plastered the look of pure innocence on his face and Penelope who looked the picture of death.  They were definitely on to something.  Phillip seemed to think it was legitimate though and she shrugged deciding to just leave it be.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Phillip assured.  

“Then it’s settled then,” Colin said with a nod, arm going around Penelope’s back to lead her up and out of the club before Eloise could change her mind.

--

In the grand scheme of things, the wait between the car being ordered to take them home and them arriving wasn’t that long but it felt about a million years.  

As the slipped into the back of the car, Penelope couldn’t help but laugh when Colin pulled out his wallet and handed a hundred dollar bill to the driver.

“You see nothing, you know nothing,” he told the driver who accepted the money and thus the promise of absolutely ignoring them. He had ever intention of behaving but it never hurt to have someone turn a blind eye. The vehicle started moving without further question from the driver and that was all he wanted.

Colin grinned sheepishly in the dark before reaching to turn Penelope’s face so he could claim her lips again.  He’d not wanted to stop at the bar and he was grateful to have the freedom to do it again even if the car wasn’t exactly private.

He certainly wasn’t ashamed to kiss her in front of other people. His problem was that his lips were pretty eager to explore more than her mouth and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could behave himself.

There was also the matter that they hadn’t actually discussed what was happening between them and he felt like they ought to.  He wasn’t under any illusion that he didn’t have a reputation albeit a false one.  He didn’t want Penelope to have the wrong idea about his intentions nor did he want her to feel pressure to do anything either.

She seemed to be the one calling the shots more than he was lately and he wasn’t upset about it. He couldn’t help but find the moments when she took control, made it clear precisely what she wanted appealing.  He’d always known the confident, direct girl existed but more often than not she let herself be pushed to the shadows.  It was silly when she was so funny, smart and beautiful!

He admittedly felt his pants tighten when he heard the click of her seat belt, felt her move from her seat to his lap and her dress rose slightly bunching against her thighs.  She was wonderfully warm against him and so perfect. He his hands moved to her hips to try and grip her.

His eyes closed when her mouth moved to tease at his neck.   An audible groan escaped him and he was grateful that the driver decided to turn up the music he was listening to.  He wanted to move his hands from her hips to her ass or elsewhere but he kept clutching her hips to try and keep himself in check.

“Pen,” he murmured after a second, knowing that he had to gain some self-control.  He had to actually have a conversation with her before he ended up having his way with her in the back of this vehicle. She deserved so much more than that.

Her eyes opened slightly and she did pull back, confusion flickering across her face.  Colin couldn’t help but pick up on what appeared to be hurt playing on her features and he felt like an absolute monster for it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked before trying to slip back to her seat. He shook his head no, hand tightening harder to keep her precisely where she was in his lap.

“I want to talk,” he said resolutely.

Penelope’s face turned ghastly white.

“I misread the whole thing and you don’t owe me any explanation for that,” she said trying to cut him off at the pass if he was going to tell her that he wasn’t looking for something long-term or that he couldn’t possibly want to be with her. It made sense to her. Colin wanting to be with her was too good to be true. “We’ve always been friends. You don’t have to… ”

He kissed her again to silence her not wanting to hear another minute of her thinking that he didn’t want her.  It was ludicrous.  

“Are you going to let me talk?” he asked when he broke away.

She nodded.

“Good. I was trying to tell you that I don’t want to just kiss you,” he told her after a moment. “I mean, clearly I want to do more than that but – I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time and my entire family cares about you. I care about you too.”

Penelope didn’t have to question for a minute that he did.

“I care about you too,” she told him softly.

“I need you to understand that if you let me have my way with you, you’re never going to be rid of me again,” he said firmly.  “I need you to know that I’m going to be all in and I need to be sure you will be as well.”

Penelope wasn’t sure that she’d heard him correctly.  Was he suggesting that she might be the one who decided it was a one and done?  It was the most insane thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“You think that I’m going to shag and run?” she asked looking at him like he had grown another head. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were practically children.”

“No,” he said after a moment, jaw tightening. He didn’t think that was anything special and she was.  He wasn’t as confident as he might like the world to think. He could let momentary vulnerability come through here. “I just – what if I don’t live up to your expectations?”

“What I don’t live up to yours?” she said turning it back on him.  She didn’t consider herself beautiful.  She could hide behind her clothes but when they came off would he be repulsed by her curves? Would he dislike her inexperience?  She couldn’t imagine a scenario where he didn’t live up to her expectations but the other way around seemed far more probable.

“That won’t be happening,” he told her shaking his head.

“Then maybe we slow it down,” she said after a moment, biting her lip.  “Until we’re both sure that the other isn’t going anywhere. I mean, not too slow and definitely not a secret because I’m going to talk to Eloise but a little less impulsive, a little more…thoughtful.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod, realizing the car had finally come to a stop. They were actually home.  “Well I think that we have a lot of ground to cover and the house to ourselves for a little while.  I do believe I’m supposed to be taking care of you so if you just happen to sleep in my bed that won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t suppose it would.”

Penelope moved off him enough to open the door and climb out, Colin following behind with a polite word of thanks for the driver.  

“One more thing,” he said moving behind her, keeping the conversation going.

She turned her head toward him watching while he maneuvered around her to unlock the door and let them in.  She kicked off her heels at the entrance.

“Okay?” she said waiting for him to say it.

“If someone asks, you’re my girlfriend,” he said firmly. It wasn’t a question but a statement. Of course, she could argue it if she wanted.

“I don’t remember you asking?” she said, pausing slightly, amusement was written on her face though.

Colin wasn’t one to turn away from a challenge though or an opportunity to be overly dramatic.  He paused, moved down to one knee.

“Will you allow this to be an official thing?” he asked her, gazing up at her.  

“Well since you asked nicely,” she teased.

[multiverseofimagines]

Could you maybe do a request with Phillip Altman??? Maybe the reader is one of his best friends and the whole family isn’t surprised that they get together and they’re just waiting for it?? Thank you!!!!

Sorry that this is so shit, I wrote it so fast just because it sat in my inbox forever. It lacks detail but I loved the premise. 

“Phil if we don’t leave now we will be late!” You yelled from the front door of Phillip and yours apartment. He had been taking his sweet ass time getting ready, as per usual. 

He steps out of the bathroom, the smell of his cologne intoxicating your lungs, causing a smile to spread upon your lips. It’s the annual family barbeque, all the Altmans and their respectable partners in one roof for the whole weekend, a tradition that had gone on for years. Only this time would be quite different. 

You and Phillip had been Best Friends since you could remember. Since presumably middle school. You grew up only a few houses down, and you had been inseparable ever since. You had been there for every family gathering, every barbeque and birthday, every small event within his life, even if he had brought another girl with him that he had been sleeping with, he made sure to still invite you. 

As time went on though, things had begun to change, especially after the death of his father. He had moved closer to home to keep up with his family's company, and to spend more time with them, as they all had grown closer since the death. He became more mature with this change, and though he was the same in many ways, he took from his brother Judd, yearning for a genuine connection with someone.

You remember it so fondly, the night things had shifted. 

You sat within a restaurant, waiting for the guy you had been seeing to show, but it had been two hours past, and he had failed to pick his phone up. Tears welled up within your eyes, as you stared impatiently at the entrance, a sinking feeling inside of you. You thought you were staring to fall in love with the guy, you could see somewhat of a future with him, which made the pain of letting go even worse. 

Eventually, a waitress came to your table, a sympathetic look upon her face as she explained you would need to leave soon due to closing time. You couldn’t possibly drive, too emotional to even get up and follow the orders of the waitress. There had been only one person who could come and help you now, and that was Phillip. You dialed his number, attempting to clear your throat as the ringing tone echoed upon your ear, trying not to sound as if you had been crying. Phillip picked up, his voice sounded as if he’d been awakened by the call, “y/n?’ he asked. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” He could hear you were upset, your voice filled with emotion still. 

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was now fully awake, the sound of you being upset sending him into a worried state, “Yeah- I just-” You took a sigh, trying not to start crying again, but to no avail the tears still fell. 

“Jonathan stood me up. I’m at Grummans, you know, the Jewish place on 4th street? I’m too emotional to drive and-” You were cut off by the sound of Phillips' voice, “I’ll be there in 15.” 

He was there so fast; you were surprised he hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket that time around. 

The two of you drove to your apartment in silence, not being able to find the right words, too emotionally exhausted to explain or vent. He pulled into the lot, parking within your usual spot. You basked in the awkward silence for a moment still tearful and heartbroken. You turned to Phillip, who’s eyes never left you, always so concerned for you, always there to make things better.

“ Thank you Phillip.” Your lips quivering into a forced smile, though the utmost greatful for him. You leaned over to the driver's side, kissing his cheek softly, lovingly. You never realized until now how easy it was with him, how you melted like honey in his presence. It was something you had felt before throughout the years, and though his family had teased you about it for years, insisting the two of you would be married later on within life, you never truly realized why you couldn’t love anybody fully. Even Jonathan, the man you had been crying over, he had been the only one you could maybe see moving in, but you didn’t want it deep down. Deep down you had found that love within another, Phillip. 

You pulled away from his cheek slowly, taking in his hazel eyes, gleaming upon the moonlight that shone slightly into the front window of the car. He was so effortlessly beautiful, how could you only just realize? But now wasn’t the time, you knew it was too good to be true, he couldn’t feel the same.  You turned back to the door, going to open the handle, when his hand stopped you, softly resting upon your shoulder, causing your head to turn. 

“Move in with me.” 

He had felt it too within the car, the years of repressed feelings rushing to his thought process. The countless nights he had spent in other women's beds, wishing if only it were yours instead. It’s why none of his flings had lasted, he had looked for you within the eyes of others, when he could have just turned around to see yours staring back at him.

The two of you had moved in together, but it had all remained a secret to his family. You two acted as if everything was still the same way it used to be, not wanting to be pressured by anyone to explain yourselves. But this barbeque was important, for Phillip had plans to propose. He didn’t know when would be the perfect time; he was much more of a spontaneous soul, and he knew you would hate some huge declaration.

He wouldn’t do it in front of his family though, that would be too much. He would do it whilst you two were alone, perhaps in the evening within the back garden, as everyone was sleeping. That’s what he had dreamt about, all those silly nights, pining over his soon to be fiance, a perfect and subtle way of asking for eternity.

The two of you rolled your suitcases up the front walkway, Wendy and Tracy meeting you halfway to help with the bags. “Oh y/n! You’re absolutely glowing!” Tracy engulfed you in a tight hug. Beside you, Wendy did the same to her brother, saying how good it was to see him. 

When walking into the house, the smell of food wafted upon your noses. “Mom! Their here!” Wendy called out, Hillary soon coming from the kitchen, dawning an apron. “ Oh! Phillip! Y/n!” Her arms lifted, engulfing each of you in a hug. “I’m just making dinner now,” She smiled, her eyes then settling upon the suitcases you had brought with you in order to stay for the weekend. 

“This time around, Judd is sleeping at Penny’s, so y/n- how about you take Phillip's room? I’m sure my son would be a dear and sleep in the basement.” Your eyes widened, and “um” escaped your lips, as you almost instinctively went to correct her, but Phillip had caught on, interrupting you, “ Of course Ma.” He smiled at her, as she furrowed her eyebrows in your direction, utterly confused. “ That was close.” You whispered to him once she left. 

It was a perfect night as usual within the house, laughing and bickering, talking about what everyone had been up to, if anyone had any exciting news. The food was amazing, though Phillip always complained upon the Kugel. When you two ended up alone he couldn’t stop talking about how disgusting it was. And though he had wanted to do it that night, he walked out the backyard with you to find Paul and Tracy sharing a kiss with one another. The two of you sneaking around the side of the house trying not to get caught, despite your fit of giggling. You both collapsed onto the ground, your back against the side fence.

“ I wish I could at least sleep in the same bed with you this weekend.” You laughed, your pinky holding onto his in a discreet fashion, “ When are we going to tell them?” You asked, staring upon the stars.

“ Soon enough, I promise.” He snuck a quick kiss to your cheek, before getting up to go to bed. You soon followed, going in the other direction.

Phillip had sat upon the fold out bed, something was keeping him awake, perhaps the lack of you beside him, or maybe the thought of how he was going to purpose. He wished his father had been alive to guide him, tell him what to do. He couldn’t tell anyone either, the secret had gone on for too long for him to tell anyone now, he would just have to do it on his own.

As Phillip continued to ponder, he could hear footsteps coming down, “y/n?” He question. There was no response for a silent moment before his sister's voice softly called out her name, “No, It’s Wendy. Can I come down?” He sighed softly to himself, “Yeah sure” He watched his sister with a curious smile. “You left your leather jacket upstairs, figured I’d bring it down for ya, before a child gets to it.” She smiled, her hand extending out to toss it at him, as she did so her smiled faded as something hard had flown out of the jacket, hitting the floor. Phillip immediately pounced to the floor to find what he had realized was the ring.

“Fucking shit.” Phillip swore under his breath, the tiny box, in between the two of them. 

“What the hell is that?” Wendy questioned, walking over to Phillip. 

“Nothing, it’s really nothing Wendy.” She laughed, holding her hand out, expecting him to pass it over, “You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me, kid. Give it up.” He passed it over, a sigh coming from his lips as she opened the box, revealing the most gorgeous diamond ring she had ever seen. Her eyes widened, staring at it for a moment before looking up at her younger brother.

“Um- who’s this for?” She asked. He couldn’t tell her, not now, it would ruin the entire plan, but Phillip was a terrible liar. “No one-” he responded, grabbing the box from her hand. 

“Are you seeing someone Phil?” He couldn’t help but smile, causing Wendy to furrow her eyebrows, “Oh my god Phillip- don’t tell me you bought this for some-” Phillip looked up at her, “Somewhat Wendy? Whore?” Wendy bit her lip in embarrassment, “ Why wouldn’t you tell us.” She now sat down beside him on bed.

“ I didn’t want to explain myself. You all would have hounded us.” He slightly chuckled to himself, imagining the family’s reactions. Wendy smiled, grabbing his hands, “We’re your family Phillip. You can’t hide this stuff, because whether you like it, whoever you choose will be a part of this family too.” He smiled back at her, their eyes both forming tears. 

She let go of his hands, grabbing the box from his free hand, staring at it, “Why didn’t you bring her this weekend?” She questioned, still looking at the box. Phillip failed to answer, a blush swept upon his cheeks as he tried to hide a mischevious smile. It took Wendy a moment, before looking back at him, a look of confusion plastered upon her face. 

“ Wait- Why did you bring the ring with you?” He still didn’t answer, attempting to look away from her gaze, “Phillip why are you smiling like that!”

It took her a moment, Phil looking at her face changing out of the corner of his eye, with every passing second he could see the realization settling in.

“ OH MY GOD” She was off the bed and up the stairs in a matter of moments, “MOM!!” Phillip following close behind her, “ Wendy! Please don’t!” It was too late, her yelling had wakened everybody in the house up by now, all coming down in their respectable nightgowns and robes. 

“What is going on?!” Hilary questioned, coming down the stairs to meet Wendy and Phillip, it  was as if it had been scene out of their childhood, whenever Wendy had caught him sneaking out. 

Tracy and Paul followed behind, with you behind them, all of you now standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the two. 

“Why don’t you tell her Phillip?” Wendy turned to him, passing the box back to him. 

“What are you talking about?” Hilary questioned again, staring at the black box with confusion. Your eyes widened, also plagued with confusion. 

“ I can’t-” He choked out before looking at you, “y/n? can you come over here?” You awkwardly stepped past them, walking over to Phillip. He looked you in the eyes,  nervousness fell upon him. 

“I didn’t want to do it like this- believe me. But it seems as though I have no other choice now.” He laughed, lowering himself onto one knee in front of you.

“ It seems as though we’ve already spent half of our lives together. You are my best friend, my rock, the only person I’ve ever truly felt this way for. Will you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me?” You cried, tears rolling upon your cheeks as you nodded frantically, staring at the now open box, the diamond shimmering among the chandelier above you. 

“You’re crying?” Tracy whispered to Paul,

“ Yeah-” He wiped his cheek with his hand, “Only cause I owe Judd a 50$”

[split-n-splice]

HEY, MICKEY, YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU— I mean. Uh. Enjoy the chapter. >_>

[Chapter Guide | FFn | Ao3]

34. Aura of Others – 7

Shego counted herself lucky to have slipped past Drakken’s snoring mother that morning, even if she wasn’t convinced the woman wasn’t faking it.

On the ride into town, her driver gushed his relief that the impromptu reunion had gone better than he could have hoped, even if it wasn’t over yet. Her crossed arms, frown out the window, and small grunts of acknowledgment must have given him a clue to shut up about his mom. She didn’t mean to be envious of his mother’s acceptance, but it was hard not to be. 

He mumbled a vague apology of, “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll be quiet now,” which only made her wonder inwardly what he was apologizing for – for talking her ear off or for her own mother abandoning her for becoming a freak?

Either way, she was even unhappier to notice lights were still out in her neighborhood. She scarcely recalled overhearing about the weather knocking out the power last night. Drakken smiled feebly as he pulled to the curb, sparing another sheepish apology, but Shilo rolled her eyes and hopped out of the van before he could propose anything else she’d have to decline. Before she slammed her door shut, he assured her that he’d phone her when the coast was clear, quipping that it was her turn to avoid his family. His humor didn’t lighten her mood.

As expected, her dingy studio apartment was freezing, only now there was no electricity to heat it with. She sighed wretchedly, and as she reached for a candle on her dresser, she came to the aggravating realization she had no glow at her disposal to light it with. She skewed her face and focused and concentrated – but no amount of willpower could produce even the tiniest flicker of green plasma from her fingertip. She didn’t even own a lighter or matches. She’d never needed them before. Suddenly she wished she had a cigarette, but not badly enough to bum a smoke from her slimy downstairs neighbor.

Groaning hugely, Shilo kicked off her muddy shoes and threw herself down into her cold bed to bundle up in a cocoon of blankets and force herself back to sleep in hopes of sleeping off the effects of the pill.

Taking it at all had been a huge mistake. She scolded herself that she’d never take it again. She swore she’d flush them all down the toilet to make sure of it.

It slipped her mind when she woke up.

She came around to the sound of a laugh track, as the television in the apartment below her was blasting some sitcom. Across the room, her alarm clock blinked, begging to be set. And worst of all, her stomach pleaded with her, scolding her from the inside out for not taking Drakken’s offer earlier to stop at Cow-n-Chow for flapjacks.

Shilo groaned and curled up tighter for a minute before extending an arm out over the edge of the bed and willing plasma into her palm. To her relief, it bubbled to life on command. She sighed anyway, deciding that was her sign to get out of bed and light some scented candles to stave off the musty odors of mildew.

The sky outside was bleak. She made note to pick up an analog clock from Smarty Mart because either rainclouds were promising another downpour or daylight was waning by the time she’d washed and dried her hair. She hoped she hadn’t squandered her day too badly.

In any case, she inspected her closet, considering what she might wear for an evening excursion around town for a little window-shopping and possibly shoplifting. She was just weighing her options of raiding the Quarter Quarts or pulling the stolen grey sweatpants back on when the trill of the telephone made her jump.

Her hands sparked. As of yet, few phone calls had been good. Either it was Buckley’s girls calling to hound her, or the punk guest she’d evicted, or her brothers – or whoever it was, she wasn’t eager to find out. She would have been happy to unplug the phone, but she wrung her fingers to get her nerves under control before snatching it off the hook on the last ring.

She waited a moment but was met with silence and static in return. Finally she offered a cautious, “Hello?”

She recognized Drakken’s huge relieved sigh on the other end. He must have been waiting to be sure it was her who picked up. An odd giggle followed, and she waited patiently for him to reel in his gleeful laughter. “She’s gone!” he all but shouted. “And I’m good! I’m in the clear – this time – she’s not making me go to the – oh, Shego, you have no idea,” he sputtered. An incoherent noise in rejoice was interrupted by another boyish laugh.

Humming in acknowledgment, Shilo leaned over as far as the cord would allow to take a peek into her fridge. It had stayed cold during the outage, but it wasn’t well-stocked. Eggs, cheese, a carton of milk, yogurt – nothing particularly promising for anything more than breakfast, though the bag of cheese was tempting to nibble on.

“So, your night’s free?” she asked hopefully just as soon as she could get a word in. Something to do – anything at all – would be a relief from listening to the insistent drip…drip…drip of a leaky roof and pipes.

Drakken had been spouting off about cousin this, cousin that, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be attending a family gathering with his career path and looking the way he did – but now he stopped short. “F-free? My night. Uhm. I. Uh. I can clear my schedule. S-sure,” he stuttered. There was a small whimper as if he were biting his tongue. “But you aren’t going to get any booze out of me, you know. That was it – that was the last time. You really freaked me out yesterday.”

Alcohol in the equation surely didn’t help, but it wasn’t solely to blame for her state last night. He couldn’t know that though. Nonetheless, Shilo smirked to herself and leaned back on the counter. The thought of bumming off him hadn’t crossed her mind, and she probably wouldn’t have asked her senior cohort for any anyway, but she might not have turned down an offer either. Last night – as far as she could remember anyway – had been cutting it far too close. Leaving intoxication out of the picture was probably for the best, even if it had been a blast and led to shoving a car off a cliff and feeling pretty nice with his arm around her—

She bit her lip and wound a finger around the cord. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “So, California. You game?” She could use a change of scenery and a nice little road trip to get out of the oasis town.

Drakken was perky as he broke it to her. “There’s no rush. New intel came in this morning. It was only a practice run. It turns out his seismic generator is still on the fritz since you brought the roof down on it.”

Her shoulders slumped and a sigh slipped out. “Oh. Bummer.”

“Bummer?” echoed Drakken. “This is a good thing, Shego. It means—”

“No, I know. It’s just…” She quirked her mouth and idly twirled the cord around another finger. Calling off the road trip didn’t bother her – until now anyway. Suddenly, with another drizzle beginning to patter on the roof as she looked about her little shoebox of an apartment, going to the coast had some appeal. She didn’t realize how homesick she was for the sound of seagulls and crashing waves until now. “I was looking forward to going to the beach, I guess.”

Before Drakken could reply, the ding-dong of the doorbell interrupted. Shilo muttered for him to hold that thought and set the phone aside, quietly approaching the door as she racked her brains for who her visitor might be. Mrs. Landlady, most likely, but that angel boy Thomas Thompson probably knew where she lived now thanks to Hugo, and so did Buckley’s girls. She wasn’t eager to see any of them outside – and as she peeked through the peephole, she wasn’t disappointed.

No one in sight, she frowned at the door and began to back away. No sooner did she take a step back did the bell ring again, and this time she cracked the door open as far as the chain would allow. No one was ducked out of sight of the peephole, and in fact she found no one standing outside on the landing at all.

Her brow scrunched as the doorbell rang yet again when she returned to the phone. “Hey, handyman.” Ding-dong. “I think my doorbell’s on the fritz. Maybe you can take a look at it.” Ding-dong. “Should be easier to fix than a seismic whatever.”

Drakken grunted unhappily, but grumbled a curt, “Alright. See you in—” Ding dong. “Oh, that is annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” Shilo muttered as she hung up and cast a glare toward the door.

The bell rang once more, and Shilo stood in her kitchen for several long moments, waiting and watching the door as if any movement at all would set it off. It was silly, she decided, shaking her head as she crossed the room to comb her hair before her vanity mirror. The buggy doorbell had to be due to the damn leaky roof or the rats in the walls screwing with the wiring.

No sooner did she decide the doorbell must have finally died did it ring again.

Gritting her teeth, she leapt up from her spot at the dining table. Barely soothing her aggravation before sparks could fly from her fists, she reminded herself it was probably just Drakken. He was due to show up any time now.

To her relief – somewhat – Drakken was on the other side after all when she flung the door open. He was just raising his knuckles to knock, his brow scrunched together.

“Did you ring the doorbell?” she blurted, hardly relaxing at the sight of him.

“No,” he said, perturbed. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

“Are you sure?”

“Shego,” he sighed. A roll of his eyes and he rang the doorbell for himself. “I don’t see what the problem is,” he said dismissively, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Maybe the button was stuck.”

She’d like to think so. She leaned out, catching him by the arm as she stole a glance about, and pulled him in. “Did you bring any tools, just in case?”

“I have a Phillips,” he said helpfully, producing a small screwdriver from his back pocket, probably taken straight from the van glove box. He glanced back toward the open door and nodded toward the buggy doorbell. “You could put a pin in it and come check out the new foosball table in the rec room,” he suggested, smiling with the barest hint of hope.

“Wow, that does sound tempting,” she mocked. Her brow furrowed curiously as she caught a whiff of something sweet on him, and she scoffed. “Your mama’s been baking for you, hasn’t she?” Maple was a lot nicer than oil and elbow grease, except it reminded her that she was famished.

“For the whole crew, actually,” confirmed Drakken with a sheepish chuckle. “You should’ve been there.”

Shilo crossed her arms and glanced back toward the doorbell that clearly wasn’t getting fixed anytime soon. “Funny,” she shot back, kicking the door shut. “You didn’t want her knowing about me earlier.” Not that she particularly wanted his mother knowing about her, or to have to pretend she was merely some sort of nurse or assistant or receptionist – or worse, a cleaning lady. She sure as hell wasn’t one of the Dr. Drakken’s patients.

His smile fell and he scowled. “Oh, be reasonable. I had enough to explain and I barely got off the hook as it is. Right now, she bought the cockamamie story that I’m a psychiatrist and the henchmen are my patients, and that’s good enough.”

“So, the whole lair and Hench-brand jumpsuits thing didn’t seem unusual at all, huh? It’s not exactly the typical madhouse you’re running there, Doc,” she teased.

Drakken relaxed and flashed her a smile. “She just thinks I’m eccentric,” he said with a flippant gesture to himself. His smile wavered and he cleared his throat then, nodding to the door Shilo was about to chain shut out of habit. “The doorbell doesn’t seem to be acting up anymore. You didn’t by chance have any plans or a reason for calling me out here this early, did you? Because I am a busy man, you know.”

“We could still go to California,” she suggested off the top of her head. “Just for the hell of it. Hit a few places along the way.” The thought of warm sand and making use of hotel perks like a hot tub was as appealing as a change of scenery.

He grunted. “We’d be pushing it too close. And I’m not giving up another of my family recipes to buy you another day off from Buckley’s. Not so soon anyway.”

“Stingy,” she scoffed. The interrupting ding-dong of the doorbell earned a groan of frustration from her. She gestured to the door and all but whined, “Drakken.”

The man snorted and crossed his arms, nose up almost snootily. “I’m not your handyman.”

“You were when I moved here,” retorted Shilo.

After a long stubborn pause, he blew a raspberry and grumbled, “Alright, alright,” with his hands up in forfeit, screwdriver in one. “I’ll see what I can do—oh snap.” Just as she’d turned to retreat to the kitchen table to watch him troubleshoot, the door slammed shut and Drakken was scurrying around as if to hide behind her. “You have a visitor,” he hissed, spinning her back toward the door.

Her heart sank and she lowered her voice, uttering the obvious question, “Who?” If it was her brothers again, she was screwed – but if it was them, Hugo would have knocked the door down by now. Thomas Thompson, or Buckley, or any of Buckley’s girls crossed her mind, but any of them would have been preferable to who she opened up to find standing outside.

She stared down at a petite blonde decked out in too much pink – and before she could give it more than a second to process, Shilo drew back a fist to deck the girl, missing by a hair’s breadth as the visitor bent backward against the railing with a startled gasp.

Shilo lunged without so much as a hello.

The impulse to pummel the girl until her knuckles bled burned her from the inside out, and her hands tingled as alien fire begged to burst from the surface. Digging her nails into the girl’s shoulders wasn’t enough, and a handful of hair yanking Shilo’s head sharply to the side wasn’t enough to dislodge her either.

She tried to take another swing at the startled blonde’s pretty face, but a heel in her gut and a shove, and the world was sent topsy-turvy and spiraling. They were falling – that was alright – Shego had taken worse falls than a tumble down a staircase. A caterwaul of a battle cry tore from her as she bore down on the throat of the former friend.

Before she could feed the girl an overdue knuckle sandwich, her wrist was caught in a firm grip and all at once the animosity and fire was inexplicably smothered. She stared, stunned and pliable, as she was pried away from the blonde choking for breath on the filthy cement beneath her.

“Long time, no see, Shi,” came a deep honeyed voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

It was much more agreeable anyway than the crass, “Still a bitch, I see,” from Priscilla as she picked herself up.

Gawping back at the strapping young man behind her, Shilo jerked her wrist free and stepped back. Looking at Priscilla only rekindled a just rage, but Mickey was golden. He’d done her no wrong. Not really, anyway. Seeing the two together was nothing unusual. But seeing either of them here, thousands of miles from Go City – now that was unusual.

“How did – why would you – what are you doing here?” Shilo snapped, trying to draw upon the anger from moments ago.

Priscilla brushed herself off, or tried to anyway. Her backside was damp and dirty now, white jeans certainly stained. Good. “A little bird told me,” she said smugly.

Mickey elbowed her. “She’s been babysitting your little brothers,” he explained awkwardly.

The news was shocking and a little bit crushing, even if unbelievable. In recent years, the old friend had wanted nothing to do with the Gough family – nothing to do with her – after being just short of family one day and a stranger the next. If deserting was the worst of Priscilla’s transgressions, Shilo might not be curling her fists right now. She suddenly wished now that she’d spent more time with her family during their visit. Maybe then she would have had some sort of heads up to expect the backstabber. They hadn’t even mentioned her.

“And I had to see for myself when your dweeby brother spilled everything,” added Prissy. “Well, almost everything. Didn’t mention you ran away to join a different circus. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

The former best friend still knew just how to get under her skin in the worst of ways. Practically bristling, Shilo repeated through grit teeth, “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping in to say hi, duh,” said Priscilla as if it were obvious. She wiggled her fingers then in a mock wave, as if Shilo hadn’t just been laying into her and about to knock her teeth out. “So. Hi. You gonna invite us in or what? C’mon, we’ve got some catching up to do, girlfriend.”

“When hell freezes over,” she retorted, and whipped around to retreat up the staircase. She paused, her boiling blood running cold for a split second as she spied Drakken watching from the top with his brow raised. “What, no popcorn this time?” she barked as she stormed up.

“You know them?” he wondered, as if it weren’t obvious enough.

As she reached him, Shilo shot a glare over her shoulder at Priscilla Kimbley still standing at the bottom with Mickey Goldsmith, the young man trying his best to whisper and gesture Prissy away toward the old jeep parked at the end of the block. “I thought I did,” she hissed, and grabbed Drakken by an arm to tow him back inside and away from the rat.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,480

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

Chapter 45: 21st Century Girl

“Whatever other people say, whatever this world tells you, you’re the best to me just the way you are.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Isn’t it early where you are?”

“No, it’s only nine.”

“You look tired though.”

“A lot’s been going on with my new job.”

“I’ll admit, I was a little worried when you said you were quitting your other job. Is that even allowed with the visa you currently have?”

“It’s fine. I applied for another visa through my new company.”

Anastasia sighed, attempting a smile for Jacob. The Skype call had only been going on for about twenty minutes, but it felt like they were talking for hours. She tried to check in about once a week, but with all the hustle and bustle with the company and the ever-blossoming relationship she was in with Seokjin, it was hard to maintain contact in the way she would have liked. Add on the extreme time zone difference and that was how things wound up.

“Is it harder than working for your old job?”

“No,” she said while shaking her head, “it’s about the same workload. I have more responsibilities because I technically got promoted when they hired me.”

Jacob nodded, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. It was getting a little longer than she was used to. He would have cut it by now, but he seemed set on trying out a new image.

She watched him take a drink of water. “Are you happy, Ana?”

Blinking, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his question. Had she given any indication that she wasn’t happy? She hoped not. She didn’t want him worrying unnecessarily.

Again, she smiled. “Yeah Jake, I’m happy.”

Anastasia watched her brother’s eyes furrow from the computer screen. She knew it wasn’t because he didn’t believe her. He just worried a lot and tended to fuss over her unnecessarily. It was the role Jacob chose to play since he was the second-born. They were only two years apart, but they were thick as thieves and she appreciated how close they were despite her being the oldest of her three siblings. Their baby brother, Phillip, was still just starting college while Elena just graduated from her university. Their parents were still harping on about practicality when it came to their futures, something that both Anastasia and Jacob despised. They should have all been allowed to choose the paths they wanted to live, regardless of the outcomes.

“Well,” he finally said, shrugging one shoulder, “as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Relief washed over her and she sank back in her chair a little more, cradling the mug of green tea in her hands. Her hand slid from the handle to press a palm to her stomach, a warmer smile touching her features. She must have looked a little silly because the sound Jacob clearing his throat loudly startled her from her thoughts. When she peered back at the screen, his face was a little closer, as if he was leaning forward to look directly into her eyes.

“So, are you finally dating someone now?”

She coughed loudly, sitting up and quickly setting her mug down on the desk by her keyboard. “W-What?” Anastasia attempted to wrangle the words that were escaping her. “What’s with the interrogation anyway?”

Again, Jacob shrugged. “I know you dated that one guy, but that’s it.” He leaned back in his chair, lounging lazily. “Just figured you were seeing someone new.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm, her hands fidgeting until Anastasia started twirling a few locks between her fingers. It was a nervous tick that she hadn’t been able to break and there was no sign of it stopping anytime soon. She’d be an old woman pulling at her thinning gray strands until they put her in the ground.

Jacob laughed, realizing he’d caught her in his cleverly laid trap. If he was within arms-reach, she would have shaken him like a rag doll. “Your face gives away everything. It’s why you suck at poker.”

“Shut-up,” she muttered.

Another window suddenly popped up, notifying her that she had another call. She stared at the screen as Seokjin’s name and picture appeared in the window. Her eyes lowered to the corner of the monitor, spying the time, and she wondered why he was calling. He’d given her the rest of the week off so she could adjust to all the hormonal imbalances that came with her pregnancy. Talking with her brother was part of the whole routine check-up bit, but she really wanted to talk to him about her being with child.

“Hold on, Jake. I have another call.”

“Sure.”

She put her brother on hold, answering Seokjin’s call. When his face popped up on the screen, Anastasia could only stare at how uncomfortably close his face was to the camera. Neither of them said anything. She was too startled to speak and he apparently was trying to read something about her. He did this often when he was trying to catch her in some kind of lie or if she was secretly up to something.

“Seokjin,” she finally said, blinking, “what are you doing?” Anastasia looked over his shoulder to see if he was in his office. “Shouldn’t you be, oh I dunno, working or something?”

“Why are you on the computer?” he asked suddenly. “I gave you the rest of the week off to rest. Not so you could stare at a monitor.”

Anastasia sighed. “I’m talking to my brother. Why?”

“You can’t talk on the phone?”

“Phone calls are expensive. Skype is free.”

He gave her a dissatisfied look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious! Why are you calling me on Skype if you’re worried about me being in front of a monitor?”

“Because you won’t answer your phone!”

“My phone’s dead and I’m charging it!” Anastasia puffed out one of her cheeks. “Geez, you’re impossible.”

He frowned, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes before leaning back in his chair. “…are you hungry?”

“Am I hung—what?” She looked back at the clock to make sure of the time. “It’s still early!”

“You should at least eat breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Anastasia rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be working? Go back to work!”

Without waiting for his response, she hung up the call and went back to the window her brother was on. Jacob was busying himself with scribbling some notes on a notepad.

“Sorry about that.”

He looked up at the screen, setting his pen down. “Who was that?”

“A potential headache.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just a headache.”

Jacob smirked. “Yeah? Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”

“Jacob Martin!”

He laughed loudly, holding a hand up as he patted the air. “Okay, okay. I get it. Dropping it now.”

Anastasia smiled as she sighed, realizing how much she missed her brother being around. He mentioned coming to visit from time to time, but between working and trying to find his place in the world, she knew that it was almost impossible. Air fare wasn’t cheap and while she could afford to fly him out if he wanted, there was the internal worry about him judging her ties with former gangsters. Their home life wasn’t peaches and cream, but it was far from unsavory. What family was perfect?

Even so, she still wondered what her brother would think of her if she told him she was having a child out of wedlock.

Once the heavy topic of her work environment was no longer the focus, the two of them were able to engage in lighter conversation. Again, Jacob mentioned coming to visit her in South Korea, mostly because he wanted to see the country she’d called home for the last three and a half years. The place was full of beauty and splendor. There were many things about the land that helped heal her from the horrible fall she’d had over her broken dreams. While she may not have been a chef and restaurant owner like she wanted, her current occupation brought her to this place.

The path she walked led her to Seokjin, the man she loved.

Half an hour passed and she realized that it was getting late. She worried that she was keeping Jacob up longer than normal.

“You should probably get some rest,” she said, noting the tired look in Jacob’s eyes, “you have the overnight shift this week, don’t you?”

Jacob stifled a yawn. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I need to make sure that Phillip did his homework.”

“Let Elena worry about that.”

He nodded, waving a hand back and forth to her. Anastasia wished to ruffle his hair like she often did when they were teenagers. A painful wave of nostalgia overtook her and she did her best not to cry, cursing herself for all the pregnancy hormones throwing her out of whack. Jacob didn’t seem to notice as he finished off his bottle of water.

“Mm, alright. I guess I’ll try to get some sleep. G’night, ‘Stasia.”

Anastasia rubbed at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Goodnight, Jake.”

The blip noise sounded after the call ended and Anastasia was left with only silence. She curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she buried her face into her knees. A weak sob was all she could muster, mourning the lack of family around her to tell her that everything was going to be okay. That her worries would be for nothing and that she would be happy. That she deserved to be happy, despite all of her failures.

For a moment, all she could do was sob quietly to herself. There were so many missed opportunities to empty her soul to her brother. He would have understood and encouraged her. Jacob would have told her that she was strong, that she was one of the strongest people he knew, and that this little bump in the road was just one pothole on the way to glory. Their parents would have told her she was shameful for carrying another man’s child when she hadn’t even so much as been introduced to his family. That it was a disgrace to have a child as an unmarried woman. People did it all the time, but not her family. Not the D’Angelo’s.

Anastasia didn’t know how long she was curled up in her chair. She was pretty sure that she’d drifted off at some point. Her limbs ached from scrunching herself up into a ball and they protested as she tried to straighten herself out. A hand rubbed at her stomach while the other wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” she whispered, rubbing circles over her belly, “I didn’t mean to cramp you up like that.”

She stretched her legs out, then her arms, before standing. Grabbing the mug, she made her way downstairs. She’d barely made it into the kitchen before the front door burst open and in walked Seokjin, looking flustered and haggard. The mug slipped from her hands and fell into the sink with a loud clatter as she spun around the moment he stalked into the kitchen.

“W-What are you doing?!” Anastasia managed to stammer out, taking a step back as Seokjin quickly closed the distance between them. “You’re supposed to be at work!”

“You hung up on me!”

“That’s because you were acting crazy!”

Anastasia peered around him, hoping that Jimin had the wherewithal to at least follow so she could drag Seokjin back to the office. She frowned, ducking under his arm and bolting from into the living room. He was practically on her heels.

This was insane!

Stopping short, she whirled on her heels and Seokjin had to raise himself up onto the balls of his feet to keep from crashing into her. She stuck her hand out.

“Phone. Now.”

He blinked down at her. “What? No!”

“Gimme the phone, Seokjin!”

His eyes narrowed, issuing his silent refusal. Anastasia didn’t care as she took a step forward, her hands lunging out to reach into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way and her fingers quickly found the item. When he tried to snatch it back from her, she twirled so that her back was facing him.

Her thumb slid over the dots to form the pattern needed to unlock his phone and she immediately dialed Jimin. As the phone rang, Seokjin tried to take the phone back but Anastasia was already half running, half jumping up the stairs toward the loft. Jimin answered before the second ring could finish.

“Hyung! Where did you go?!”

“Jimin-ah, you tell your boss to take his ass back to work!”

“A-Ana Noona? What are you—?”

“Do you hear me?” Her feet landed on the top step and she turned around to stick her foot out, her heel planting itself against Seokjin’s chest to keep him from moving any closer to her. “He has fivemeetings today and one of them is in twenty minutes. How could you let him leave the office in the first place?!”

“I’m sorry, Noona. I tried! But Seokjin Hyung hit me. He hit me in the chest and I was horrified!”

She shot him a glare. “He did what now?”

“He’s never hit me. I didn’t know what to do! I was caught off guard! I’m sorry. I’ll come over right now.”

Anastasia hung up the phone and tossed it back to Seokjin. She then pointed downstairs. “Out.”

He pouted. “Anastasia, come on…”

“Go back to work!” Her eyes narrowed. “If I end up having to take you backto the office, I’m going to work and I’m gonna make every second of your life a living hell while I’m there. Do you understand me?”

Seokjin gave her the once over, as if trying to surmise if she really would do it. He knew better. At least she hoped he knew better. She was as stubborn as a mule and if he thought, for even one second, that she was playing around, then he’d rue the day he ever hired her. She wasn’t going to back down from this and an angry pregnant woman was not a variable that Kim Seokjin would be in a hurry to deal with.

After a moment, he sighed and leaned against the wall. “…alright, you win.” He held his hands up, turning to head downstairs. “I’ll go.”

She stayed upstairs, waiting to hear him put on his shoes and open the door. When she didn’t hear it close, however, Anastasia smiled and shook her head. “I’ll see you tonight,” she called down to him, “have a good day.”

“…love you.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she walked down a few steps so she could see his pitiful face.

She laughed.

“I love you too.”

[the-sweetest-dragon]

A Summer Like Never Before

- A Summer Job AU - no Pennywise - Georgie is still alive - Mostly tomfoolery - 

Fandom: It

Characters: Bev, Richie, Eddie, Ben, Mike, Stan, Bill

Ships: Eventual Reddie, Benverly, Stan x Patty

Word Count: 1379

Warnings: Out of character behavior

AN:  It’s Thursday my dudes!  I hope everyone is enjoying these chapters because I’m really enjoying writing them.  Updates every Thursday, let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

Tags: @just-another-shipper-01 @nerdsarebetter @audder17 @sapphic-bottlexap @mmarclac

Chapter One  Chapter Two  

____________________________________________

Chapter Three

Beverly Marsh has had enough of Richie Tozier’s silly crush on their friend Eddie Kaspbrak.  Currently, he’s blasting “Eddie My Love” for the third time today.  What’s worse is that he’s slow dancing with a container of mustard like it was his lost love.  

“Richie could you please fill the damn mustards and stop pretending it’s Eddie.”  Bev stands at the long counter, marrying ketchups while the diner was slow.  Richie had done… well, nothing but dance around with Mustard-Eddie and refill the ice machine.  

Richie pouts at her words and sets down his mustard boyfriend.  The song finally changes into some 90’s music that Richie can’t dance to.

“Must you ruin all my fun?  First I can’t make mom jokes at work and now I can’t-” Richie suddenly cuts off and rushes to fix his hair.  Bev looks over at the door and grins.  His favorite customer is walking towards the door, Ben Hanscome in tow.

Bev watches as Eddie opens the door and waves at them.  Bev glances towards Richie; his eyes are crinkled shut by the force of his smile.  Then, she turns her attention to Eddie, who’s explaining something to Ben.  She can tell by his hand movements that Ben doesn’t necessarily agree.  

Richie waltzes over to their booth while Bev shakes her head.  That boy had it bad; he hated waiting on people their own age but he always made an exception for Eddie. 

Bev moves on to refill the salt and pepper shakers, and to listen in on their conversation.  

“- can I get ya?” asks Richie in a Southern accent.  Eddie heaves a sigh before ordering his usual.  “Good choice, Eddie Spaghetti.”  Richie grins, knowing that Eddie hates that nickname, and, like clockwork, Eddie rushes to to tell him so.

“I hate when you call me that!” Eddie glares at him, but Bev can see him trying to hide a smile.  Ben chuckles and orders after him.  Richie races off to put in their order to the cook that night, a man called Chuck.  

Bev continues to put salt into the correct containers, not really thinking about much other than how much she hates being here some days.  Sure, the tips were usually pretty good, but they were paid less than minimum wage and the customers were downright awful some days.  There was an old lady who came in near the beginning of summer that thought Richie was hitting on her grandson and called him some not very nice words.  Richie hid in the freezer until they left.  

Bev sighs softly and puts her salt back in it’s correct place.  As she’s walking back to the counter, an older man reaches out and grabs her wrist.  She stops immediately.

“Can I help you with something sir?”  She had been told off for being rude to the customers too many times to let her anger show.  Bev doesn’t try to loosen the man’s grip either; better her wrist than her ass.  

The old man licks his lips and looks her up and down.  Bev stands a bit straighter, refusing to back down from his stare.  

“Just needed a closer look atcha.  Quite the looker if I do say so myself.  What’s an ass like your’s doing in a place like this?”

Bev hears both Eddie and Ben get up, rearing for a fight.  Bev holds up her other hand to make them wait.

“Let go of my arm or things will start to get sticky around here.”  She hears Richie come out from the kitchen and take in the scene before them.  He also waits for her to handle things before jumping in.  The old man’s eyes flicker to the boys behind her.  

“Whatcha gonna do?  Have your boyfriends beat me up?  I knew you were a slut but I didn’t realize you had so many.”  The old man laughs and Bev’s anger flares up.  She lowers her other hand and the boys rush in.  

Before any of them could reach the old man, Bev has him by the balls.  Someone lets out a soft ouch and she hears Richie apologize to someone.  The hand around her wrist is immediately gone and a scared look settles on the man’s face. Bev raises an eyebrow and smiles.  

“Apologize.”  She tightens her grip on his manly bits and he lets out a squeak.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!”  Bev smiles.

“Good, now leave and don’t come back to this diner or I will call the cops.”  Bev leans in closer, and whispers, “You shouldn’t have been worried about the boys.  I can handle myself.”  She lets him go and the man rushes out of the diner.  

Bev turns around and sees Ben with a bloody nose and Eddie shaking his head at Richie.  

“What the hell happened?  I turn my back for two minutes and you guys get hurt?”  

“Richie hit me in the fucking nose trying to get to you,” Ben says softly.  Bev sighs and looks at Richie.  He’s red from the roots of his hair to where his uniform sits on his neck.  

“I didn’t mean to,” he says softly.  “Plus your face hurt my elbow.”  Richie lifts up his sleeve and there was a small bruise forming right above his elbow.  

Bev rubs the space inbetween her eyebrows.  Sometimes it’s like she’s their mother, always fixing them up.  She grabs Ben’s hand, ignoring the blush that creeps up his neck.

“I’m taking Ben to the back to get him cleaned up.  Eddie, you’re in charge.”

Eddie turns a self satisfied smile towards Richie, who’s pouting about not being in charge while Bev’s gone.  

“But he doesn’t even work here!” Richie protests.

“Shut up Trashmouth and do as I say.  I’m the boss now.”  And with that, Bev walks Ben back to where they keep their first aid kit and sits him down in a back booth.  

Bev softly touches his nose, trying to tell if it was broken or not before noticing that the bleeding had stopped.  She wiped up the nearly dried blood with a soft towel.  Ben winces once and Bev pulls away.  

“Well, the good news is that I don’t think the Trashmouth broke your nose.  It’s not bruising much either, so you should be okay.  The blood has stopped as well.”  Bev smiles and turns away to put the towel down next to the first aid kit next to her.  She can hear Eddie speaking very quickly but he’s drowned out by ‘Eddie My Love’ playing once again.  That’s gonna be difficult to explain.  

“Hey, Bev?”  She turns back to him.

“Yeah, Ben?”

She waits, watching Ben struggle to spit whatever he wanted to say out.  It gives her a chance to look at him, really look at him.  Ben is no longer chubby; he still held on to a bit of baby fat but he had started lifting weights at the beginning of high school and it was really paying off.  Working at the lumberyard had helped a lot too.  He wasn’t buff per say, but he had workable muscle from years of lifting heavy wood.  Ben had recently gotten his blonde hair cut as well, making him look a bit older.  Overall, he was becoming a very good looking man.

“I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime?”

“Oh, with all the Loser’s?” Bev tilts her head to one side, somewhat confused by the question.

“No, I mean just us.  Maybe dinner?  Or a movie?”  Bev’s brain stops in it’s tracks.  She hasn’t been on a date since the breakup.  Sure, she’d gotten offers but she thought it was too soon.  But last week she had seen Bill out with Audra Phillips, a cheerleader a year younger than them.  Obviously he had moved on, why shouldn’t she?

“- if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I was just curious -”

Bev, interrupting his rambling, says “You know what, I’d love to.  What time were you thinking?”  Ben opens and closes his mouth several times before his face breaks into a huge smile.  

“I was thinking I could pick you up at your aunt’s place and we could go to that new Italian place on Third Street?  Around 6?”  Bev smiles.

“Sounds like a date, New Kid.”

[oh-phineas]

Phineas’s Social Media Marketing Project: Humans of Pride University

Wednesday, November 24 -- Instagram Boyfriend: An in-character Instagram post of another character. (5 different muns, ex: Phil posts one of Tom, Barbie, John, etc...) Please refrain from posting these in the Instagram channel, we do not want to flood. 

featuring: @notmuchofatail @knightley--phillip @ianthedisastrous @the-name-is-chip @geehosaphat (THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED!!!!)

Phineas C. Flynn Professor Soldi MKBU 2002: Social Media Marketing 15 November 2021

For my social media project, I decided to take inspiration from the Humans of New York project and create a Humans of Pride U project. This connects to the principle of direct audience engagement that we discussed in class because I worked with the photography subjects to tell their personal stories. On social media, people do not just want ads. They want content that will engage them on a deeper level.

I asked the subjects deep questions about their lives because I think a lot of people want to talk about deep things, but they don’t get the chance to in everyday life. But by sharing these personal stories, our brand will connect with audiences who can relate. For example, Chip shared that he is an orphan, which is not really something that comes up in everyday life. But that story could resonate with other people who come across the post online. It definitely resonated with me because my brother is not related to me by blood but he is one of the most influential people in my life.

I think this campaign could be useful for any kind of user experience-based product. Maybe a dating app, emphasizing the connections that you can make when you try to get to know someone. Or maybe it could be for an e-reader app, emphasizing the importance of storytelling. All in all, I think this was a deeply impactful campaign that will inspire people.

UNCENSORED/UNEDITED ANSWERS BELOW THE CUT! (because Phineas had to turn this in for a grade lmfao)

Greg: 

"P-..proudest moment? Oh... uhm... I uh... ..." Extended pause that needs to be justified with more than a '...' "...I..I suppose the one that... t-that comes t'mind n-now is...quite silly. I-... I mean there's... there's a few that uhm... that I should s-say probably. Graduating.. h-..havin' a..a business. When I..I was elected. The..the normal ones. But uhm... I...I actually felt.. more proud when I uhm... learned how to milk goats...? Which - ... sayin' it out loud... - Like i uhm...l-like I said. Sounds...weird, but.. It... it's somethin' I...never thought I'd do. Somethin' I'd never considered d-doin'. I-..I mean m'vegan so... it's.. kinda out of my.. interest or...beliefs? N'it.. it was somethin' I was sure I'd mess up n'...never get t'do again. And it... it was durin' a time I didn't think I'd... ever h-have a proud m-moment again. It...it was somethin' I did right when I kept thinkin' everything I was doin' was wrong, and... I -.. I dunno. I just.. it had been the..the first time I'd.. felt pr-proud of myself for doin' something in a long time. S'kinda... dumb but... I dunno why it s-stuck with me. The...little things I guess.."

Phil:

Well I always like to say that everything I do, I do for the spirit of Lord Byron — romantic poetry is actually my speciality. I know, I know; everyone thinks I’m a Bukowski bloke, but I actually find him… exhausting. Annoying, really. Lord Byron, though, that was a man who knew how to fuck. Sorry, can you use that for school? I can amend it if you need. But yeah, he was the original bad boy and I think I just want to be the Byronic hero of the Pride U campus. My mates think I’m ridiculous, of course. John’s all serious all the time, but he’s honestly the only reason I’m probably still alive at this point. Not that I have a death wish — I’m just an idiot. Me and Tom both, though Tom’s literally the kindest person I know; he just indulges me, that’s all. They’re my conscience, keeping my Bad Boy Byron-self from wandering the moors in a half buttoned white shirt and a bottle of whiskey.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Winter’s War: Chapter 2

Summary: After the death of Doctor Erskine, you and Steve are shoved to the side. You bond during your time on the road. You head to Italy earlier than Steve.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: language, death, blood, violence

Word Count: ~4,167

A/N: More technical jargon! All of the technical jargon! *gifs not mine* Peggy and Howard will return... eventually.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Steve’s about to give his report of what happened. We should grab some seats before it starts,” Peggy said, holding her hand out for you to take. You did, welcoming its comfort.

Howard opened the door to the room and you took a deep, calming breath. You would find out who killed your mentor and why… and you would make them pay.

New York, New York 1943

Hydra.

That name haunted your dreams and waking hours alike. The deep science division of the Nazis. The people responsible for killing Abraham.

“I know that look,” Steve said as he sat down beside you, still in his “Captain America” outfit. “You’re thinking about Hydra again,” he said knowingly, commiserating smile on his lips. He set his shield down against your desk and pulled his silly blue winged hood back so it no longer obscured half of his face.

“You say that like you’re not constantly thinking about them, too,” you said bluntly as you set down your latest invention. You pulled your protective glasses to the top of your head and stared at him accusingly.

He smiled at that, glancing away guiltily. “Guilty as charged. But what I’m doing is important-”

“Yeah, yeah, bonds are important to the war effort. Bond sales take a bump in each state, blah blah. I know the speech, Steve,” you said dismissively, burying your face in your hands.

He sighed, eyeing you sadly. He knew your frustration all too well. The very same day he gained his powers he was relegated to a chorus girl. It was decided you’d go with him and keep an eye on him in case the experiment went wrong or his body started to reject the change. That had been a year ago, yet you and Steve were still on the road, touring the country, raising funds for the war effort.

Like him, you resented your current task. You wanted to be in a lab somewhere, attempting to create things that would help take Hydra down... or even help try to unravel Erskine’s serum (though you weren’t sure how much help you’d be in that area).

You let out a long sigh and leaned back in your chair, giving Steve an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be here, either,” you said quietly.

He smiled ruefully. “Better out here helping any way I can than in some lab being poked and prodded with needles all day,” he said, shrugging. He seemed to realize what he said and grimaced. “Not that wanting to be in a lab is a bad thing, I just-”

“I know, Steve,” you said, smiling warmly at him. The serum hadn’t changed his inability to talk to women, though he’d gotten better at talking to you the more time you spent together. You’d come to think of him as your brother. “You’d rather be out there fighting on the front lines.”

He nodded, gaze far away. You let him be for a moment before you nudged his shin with your shoe, causing his attention to snap back to you. “We’re going to Italy soon, you know. In her last letter, Peggy said-”

At the simple mention of her name, Steve perked up considerably, the light that had been fading out of his blue orbs returning immediately.

“She’s in that area, yeah,” Steve said, smitten smile appearing on his face.

“I’m going out there earlier than you; have to arrange some last minute things with Colonel Phillips,” you said, biting your lip nervously. “Want me to figure out where she is once I’m out there...? Maybe see if she can find some time to visit the camp while we’re there?” you asked curiously.

He seemed at war with himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up; it wasn’t exactly easy to find other people on the war front, but his excited fidgeting was answer enough for you.

“I’ll do my best to get a message out to her... but there’s a good chance she’ll hear about the great ‘Captain America‘ visiting the camp anyway,” you said, winking mischievously at Steve. An adorable flush appeared on his cheeks, causing you to laugh merrily at him. He scoffed and looked away from you, his embarrassment causing him to turn an even deeper shade of red.

The music on the stage came to a crescendo again and you picked up his shield and held it out to him. “Sounds like it’s time for the finale, Stevie,” you said, nickname slipping out of your lips from nowhere. Steve looked surprised, frozen halfway out his chair, hand frozen a few inches away from his shield. His reaction surprised you. “What-?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’ll tell you about it later,” Steve said as he tugged his cowl back on and grabbed the shield, hastily making his way towards the stage.

Like that, he was gone in a flash, leaving you off-balance. Was the nickname that weird? It had just slipped out. You hadn’t meant to-

You groaned and yanked your goggles back over your eyes, letting out a few disgruntled grumbles as you picked up your project and began working on it again. 

Half an hour later, after a frankly disgusting amount of applause, Steve returned.

“Good work, Cap’n,” you said cheekily, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

It was almost like he wasn’t consciously thinking about taking your hand; it seemed the time he spent on the road had given him some bad habits.

It was only once his hand was millimeters away from touching yours that he seemed to realize how odd it was for you to offer him a handshake.

Too late, though.

His fingers engulfed your gloved hand. There was a half second where nothing happened, but then he let out an undignified squeak, his body going rigid before he collapsed.

“Hmm. Probably too much power if that’s what it did to you,” you said, jotting down a few notes into your journal.

Steve recovered quickly, rolling into a sitting position.

“(Y/N)! What the hell was-”

“Language!” you chastised as you snapped your journal shut and carefully removed your prototype glove.

“You curse more than I do!” Steve argued, glaring at you as he stood.

“Yes, but your innocent demeanor is one of the best things about you,” you said matter-of-factly as you threw your journal and the prototype onto your desk.

“Wait, that isn’t the point! What was that and why did you use it on me?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s my new prototype stun glove. Stark and I have been batting ideas around and I came up with a new design... and I used it on you because I was afraid it’d kill a normal person and I didn’t have time to build a machine to test the voltage output,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Alright, you need to stop testing your inventions on me. The sedation dart hidden in the fountain pen and the sticky grenade were one thing- although I still found that horrid goo in... unmentionable places for weeks after that incident- but this actually hurt,” Steve said, sounding betrayed.

“Alright, I’ll start testing on myself,” you said amicably, shrugging. Maybe being stuck on the road away from your beautiful lab equipment had made you go a little crazy, but you’d never admit that to anyone else. The boredom was absolutely killing you.

Steve blanched. “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant! You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep acting like-” Steve’s voice cut off and he buried his face in his hands, a wry smile appearing on his face.

Alright, maybe you weren’t the only one going crazy. “Steve?” you asked quizzically, trying to get a peek at his face under his hands.

“I sound like Bucky,” he said, shaking his head in resignation as he smiled down at you.

Bucky... Bucky... Steve had mentioned him a few times, but-

“He’s my friend,” he said, correctly interpreting the confusion on your face.

“Oh, right. The guy that pulled your ass from-”

“Language,” he mocked.

You rolled your eyes. “-pulled your ass from back alley fights when you were still skinny and frail, right?” you asked, putting special emphasis on the swear, making him cringe and roll his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, warm smile on his face.

“He’s in the army, right? The... 107th?” you said, trying hard to remember everything Steve ever mentioned about the man.

Steve’s smile slipped a bit. “Yeah, he’s on the front lines. I haven’t heard anything, but-”

“Hey, it’s hard to get mail in and out of the front lines, and we’re constantly on the move ourselves. Doesn’t mean anything,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his him.

He smiled at you, but you could tell he was still worried. He probably always would be. You were suddenly grateful all you had to worry about was Peggy and Howard. You didn’t even have to worry about family back home... seeing as you didn’t have any. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, placing a hand gently over yours. 

“Well, I guess it’s time to go pack, hm? We’re going to Europe soon!” you said, smiling up at him.

At that, Steve seemed to smile genuinely. “One step closer to the front lines,” he said determinedly, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Tell me more about this Borky guy while I pack?” you asked, eager to keep his good mood going. It seemed like his friend was one of the few things that consistently made Steve smile... along with a certain British SSR Agent.

“I know you said his name wrong on purpose,” he said, smirking at you.

“You can prove nothing!” you said loudly as you turned melodramatically, throwing your arms up in the air as you moved to your desk to gather your things.

Steve laughed at your antics but his smile didn’t last long.

You accidentally touched the wrong part of your prototype glove, causing you to convulse as the electrical current ran through your body. Your seized up and dropped like a stone. Steve caught you just before you hit the ground.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” he said anxiously as he lowered you to the ground, eyes roaming the length of you for any injuries.

“Man am I glad you drained that thing of most of its juice,” you said, coughing as you sat up. “It definitely needs adjustments,” you said, glaring at the glove from your spot on the floor.

Steve rolled his eyes at you as he helped you up. Once he was convinced you wouldn’t immediately fall over, he let you go, but still hovered next to you protectively. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, his caring tone betraying his words.

“And you’re going to miss me for the few days you won’t see me because I’m your friend,” you said in a sing-song tone as you grinned up at him.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dispute your claim which only caused your grin to widen.

“Come on, you. You have packing to do,” he said,  gently shoving you towards the door. You grabbed your journal, but left the prototype. That was a problem for a later time.

“So, about this ‘Borky’...”

Two Days Later - Italy - Allied Territory

The convoy made its way down the narrow, muddy road. The forest on either side threatened to encroach on the path at any second. Still, you found it beautiful “How are things back in the States?” one of the soldiers asked. Private Jones, if you remembered correctly. The military van you were being escorted in was so noisy you could barely hear his question.

“Honestly, kind of terrible. What I see of it, at least. Nothing compared to what it’s like out here, though, I’m sure,” you said loudly, hoping he could hear you over the engine.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to return to gold-paved streets and an uncorrupted government,” said the mustachioed man beside you. Jones cracked a smile at the joke, as did the other soldiers in the van.

Dugan. Sergeant Dugan. That was his name.

“Well, I think they‘ve only managed to pave the streets with silver. Might be a while before they work up to gold. As for the government... it’s a complete mess, per usual,” you said, smiling.

Dugan let out a beleaguered sigh. “Well, any progress is-”

An explosion drowned out the rest of his words. It was close. Way closer than it should have been. Immediately, all of the men around you jumped into action, readying their guns and jumping out of the van, using the doors as cover.

“Stay down!” one of them yelled to you, shoving you face-first into the hard canvas-covered seat.

“It’s the damn Nazis! They must have skirted our perimeter!” you heard Dugan yell over the din of gunfire and explosions.

Another explosion rocked the van and you heard bullets bury themselves in the side of the van, while others zipped through the canvas top.

“We’re pinned, Sergeant!” you heard Jones yell.

“Then give them hell, Private!” said a voice you didn’t recognize. He must be a soldier that was in one of the other trucks.

It struck you then. Your escort was pinned by Nazis. You were as good as dead- this was supposed to be a milk run. They didn’t bring a lot of men or a way to contact the forward camp.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered, pulling the pistol you always carried with you out of your bag. You also pulled on your prototype glove, thankful you’d had time to work on it on your way overseas; it had an on/off button now.

If you were going to die here, you were going to take down some Nazi bastards before you died.

You crawled out of the other side of the van, surprising the soldiers.

“What are you doing, little missy? Get back in the van!” Dugan yelled, waving you away.

“To hell with that! I’m fighting for my life!” you yelled, glaring at him challengingly.

“Ha! I like this girl! I thought she was just some lab rat, but she’s got guts!” said the man you’d heard earlier. Past the army gear and layers of dirt you could see a handsome man, a pair of bright blue eyes studying the battlefield expertly.

“Flirt later, Barnes! We’re in a tight spot here!” Dugan said as he leaned over the side of the van and quickly ducked back behind it as a wave of bullets whizzed past him.

“I’d argue this is exactly the right time to flirt, but alright!” the man- Barnes- said, winking at you. Even in this situation, your heart skipped a beat.

“On your six!” yelled Jones.

You spun, raising your pistol in the direction he’d indicated. Sure enough, the Nazi troops had begun circling around your vans.

You aimed and pulled the trigger and the soldier out in front dropped like a stone, a red spot appearing in the center of his chest.

“Nice shot, Doll!” said Barnes, a wide grin appearing on his lips. “If we make it out of here alive, I’m taking you dancing!” he said as he took aim with his rifle at the soldier behind the one you’d taken out. He pulled the trigger and the Nazi dropped, dead as a doornail. He turned to look at you, smiling from ear to ear.

“What makes you think I’ll say yes?” you asked him incredulously. You spotted movement over his shoulder and took out the approaching enemy soldier before he made it onto the road.

Barnes looked over his shoulder, surprised, then back to you. “Thanks, Doll,” he said, lopsided grin doing unfair things to your already racing, adrenaline-filled heart. “And I suppose-”

“We got more incoming!” Dugan said, cutting across whatever Barnes was about to say.

You stood up slightly, peeking through the half-destroyed windows of the van. You quickly ducked back down as a rain of bullets destroyed what was left of the glass and whizzed over your head.

That... was a lot of Nazis. Apparently they’d called for backup.

A huge explosion nary twenty feet away threw shrapnel, dirt, and rocks every direction. A few of your soldiers hiding behind the neighboring van yelled as metal ripped through them, shredding their limbs and internal organs.

“No! Patterton! McKinley!” Dugan yelled, wincing at the carnage the blast left in its wake. “There’s gotta be at least two more companies out there!”

“Here they come!” Barnes yelled as he reloaded his rifle.

“I hate these guys,” you heard Dugan mutter under his breath as he peeked around the corner and fired a few rounds off.

You felt the ground shake around the same time your brain registered the odd noises coming from the battlefield.

“What the-” you dared to sneak a peak around the edge of the van and what you saw made your jaw drop.

Beams of blue light were decimating the Nazi ranks left and right. Every time one of the blasts connected with a soldier they seemed to vanish. No, that wasn’t quite right. It vaporized them. When it became clear the beams were only targeting the Nazi troops (who were quickly scattered by the onslaught), you and the surviving soldiers stood, gaping open-mouthed at the scene in front of you.

A giant tank finally rolled into sight and you all stared at it, dumb-struck.

“That looks... new,” Dugan said as he lowered his gun.

Then, to your horror, the main gun turned and pointed straight at all of you.

“Run!” Barnes yelled, turning on his heel to book it towards the forest on the other side of the road. You didn’t have to be told twice. You sprinted after him, cursing your lack of physical prowess. Maybe you should have gone jogging with Steve.

None of you made it very far.

You’d just made it to the edge of the trees when the main gun fired directly at your convoy. The blast quite literally knocked you off of your feet. The last thing you saw before you were knocked unconscious by the explosion was Sergeant Barnes’ arms wrapping around you.

“Aufwachen, fraulein,” came a raspy voice from above you. Wake up, young lady your brain slowly translated.

You blinked slowly, the world too bright and your head throbbing too painfully for you to want to open your eyes.

“Iche sagte aurwachen!” the voice said again, this time more angrily. I said wake up! your mind translated again.

You blinked blearily up towards its source and nearly screeched in fear.

There, standing above you, was a soldier. He was speaking German, but his uniform wasn’t Nazi. It was full black and his face was hidden by goggles and a terrifying mask.

“Aufstehen!“ he yelled, dragging you to your feet. Your brain didn’t need to translate that one: his meaning was clear. Get up.

You realized then that your pistol must have fallen out of your hands when you’d been knocked unconscious. You cursed your horrid luck.

Suddenly, the last thing you saw before you blacked out flashed before your eyes and you spun, searching for-

Sergeant Barnes. He and the other soldiers were kneeling in a line, arms tied behind their backs, guns pointed at the backs of their heads. You could see a few of them staring at you helplessly, heads as far down as they could go while still being able to look at you. You caught a glimpse of the steel blue of Barnes’ eyes before a backhanded slap from the soldier that had dragged you up sent you spiraling back down to the ground.

“Warum bist du hier?” the soldier bellowed, placing a boot directly onto your stomach, nearly crushing your ribs. Why are you here? “Rekrutieren die Amerikaner jetzt Frauen?“ he taunted. Are the Americans recruiting women now?

“Nein, Soldat,” you spat, grim satisfaction on your face when you realized they hadn’t removed your glove. The soldier looked down at you, startled that you were speaking German. “Ich bin hier, weil ich es sein will. Du solltest Angst haben,” you said venomously as you flicked your glove on and wrapped your hand around his ankle. I am here because I want to be. You should be afraid.

Apparently whatever he was wearing didn’t protect from electrical currents because he immediately convulsed and hit the ground, body twitching as his cells fried.

You barely registered the whoops of appreciation from your fellow soldiers. Before you could move an inch the guns of half of the enemy soldiers present had their guns trained on you. You eyed them warily. If they were anything like the tank you saw earlier, one blast would be enough to erase you from existence.

“Wie interessant,” said a slimy voice. A couple of the soldiers parted to reveal a short, balding fat man. “You speak German and took out a Hydra soldier vif a single touch. Vut are you doing vif a band of bumbling American soldiers, fraulein?” the man asked, his accent thick.

“Someone has to stop and ask for directions, right?” you asked, defiant smirk on your lips.

“Oh, and you make jokes, too! I was curious before vut now I must know vy you are here,” he said, his voice sickly sweet. He motioned to two of the soldiers next to you and they hauled you to your feet, careful to avoid the glove on your hand.

“Vut is this?” the man asked, pointing to the prototype glove with obvious curiosity. “Vere did you get it?” he asked, studying it closely, but remaining just out of your reach.

The way he was talking down to you as though you’d stolen it made something inside of you snap. “I made it, you slimy sack of piss,” you said. He didn’t have time to move out of the way and you spat directly into his face.

He pulled a hankerchief out of his pocket and primly wiped your spit from his face. Once it was gone he shoved it back into his pocket and gave you a genuinely disarming, creepy smile that nearly made you shiver. “Charmant,” he said darkly. “Nimm das fraulein auch. Ich habe Gebrauch von ihren Fähigkeiten,” he told his soldiers. Take the girl, too. I have use for her skills.

The second your brain registered the words you were fighting against the soldiers holding you. “Let me go! Lass mich gehen! Let me go, you bastards!” you screamed. You wouldn’t be some freak’s lab rat and you sure as hell wouldn’t help these sadistic bastards.

You noticed the scuffle happening in the line of American soldiers, vaguely recognizing Barnes, Dugan, and Jones trying to fight back, but the butt of a gun slammed into the back of your head and you once again surrendered to unconsciousness.

Steve’s POV - half a day after your capture

“What do you mean the Europe tour’s been postponed?” Steve asked the squirrely man who’d taken over your job while you were overseas.

“Haven’t gotten any details yet, Rogers. Just know something happened so we can’t go to Italy yet until things settle down,” the man said, eyes darting warily to and fro. He obviously didn’t like being cornered by such a large man, even if it was Captain America.

Steve immediately started to panic. You were over in Italy. You’d left a day ago. There was no way you wouldn’t be there by now. If you were hurt or- He stopped that train of thought before it took him to darker places. “But (Y/N)-”

“She’s way behind Allied lines, Cap. I’m sure she’s safe. Of course, that area’s on lockdown now so she’ll have to stay put until everything clears up,” the weasel said, looking completely unconcerned about your safety. It made Steve’s blood boil but, as usual, there wasn’t anything he could do. He just had to hope you were safe.

“How long?” Steve asked, glaring down at the publicist.

“Hmm?” he hummed as he looked up from the tour schedule.

“How long until we can go on tour in Europe?” Steve asked, dislike for the man growing by the second.

“Oh... hmm,” he studied the schedule in his hands carefully. Steve spotted your careful notes in the margins and his stomach plummeted again. Please be safe. “Looks like it’ll be... about a month,” the man said finally.

Steve’s fists clenched at his sides. The three most important people in his life were out on the front lines, and he was stuck in the States for an entire month longer than he was supposed to be.

“Hey, you alright, Rogers?” the man asked warily, looking up at Steve with a mix of concern and fear.

Apparently Steve’s frustration had gotten the better of him. He coached his face back into neutrality and turned away from the trembling man, heading towards his dressing room.

No, I’m not. “Just fine, thank you.”

Next Chapter

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[thorne93]

Old Flame, New Problems (Part 3)

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 4427 (I’m not even sorry)

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), cheating, drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

Beta’d by my #1 gal @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr​ @kaeling

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark

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

“I don’t think this is working,” Hayden said as he hung his head, his voice incredibly quiet.

“What?”

“Us. You’re always here, I’m always in LA…” he tried, explaining that the distance was the issue.

“Yeah, but that never stopped us before,” you responded, feeling your heart already splintering in your chest. He wanted to break up…

“But it’s getting harder, Y/N. You’re not in college any more. You’re working full time, putting on Broadway shows, selling screenplays to directors, editing, and you’re halfway through your first novel. I’m busy with filming, we hardly see each other any more. I don’t want us to be reduced to a few phone calls here and there and seeing each other every few months.”

You nodded, seeing as the lump in your throat kept you from speaking.

He leaned forward and took your hand over the small table in your apartment. “I love you. I do. But...long distance relationships never work, you and I both know that.”

Again, you nodded.

“We just need some time off from each other. No pressure on trying to make a relationship work. Maybe in a few years when we aren’t married to our careers we can try again,” he offered with a sorrowful, yet hopeful voice. “But for now, I think we need a break.”

A soft voice was filling your ears, and you stirred awake, jumping back when you saw Hayden sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Woah, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said with a chuckle.

Groaning, you put your hands over your eyes. “Ugh. You didn’t. I just...forgot where I was. What time is it?” you asked groggily. You noticed this morning he was in a black shirt and black jeans. One of your favorite combinations on him.

“It’s about 6:30,” he casually stated as he stood up. “Get dressed, we have rounds to make.”

“Ugh. No,” you groaned, rolling over and hugging your pillow. “Why are we up this early?” you demanded in a grouchy tone, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He laughed and walked back over to you. “Because I have animals that need fed and I told you I’d give you a tour of the grounds. So come on, princess,” he teased.

Removing your face from the pillow, you glared at him. He knew you didn’t like when he insinuated you weren’t cut out for heavy work. He responded to your glare with a grin.

“You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once he left the room, you jumped up, grabbed a pair of light blue jeans from your suitcase, a white tank top, and a tan sweater and pulled them all on, zipping up your boots last. Ready for the day, you whipped your hair into a messy bun and walked out of your room.

“Ready?” Hayden asked as you approached him while he leaned on the eat-in part of the kitchen.

“As I’ll ever be after getting less than four hours of sleep...yeah,” you stated sarcastically.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the door. You followed him as he walked out to a utility vehicle with a small trunk. The sun was just coming up, giving everything a warm yellow glow but it hadn’t quite warmed up yet. He hopped on the driver’s side and patted the seat. You sat down and he started the vehicle and took off.

“Do you always have to come out this early?” you questioned as you glanced over to him. There was a cool morning mist surrounding the property, it wasn’t very thick, as you could still see a great distance ahead of you, but it gave it a more isolated feeling.

“No, usually I’m up around five,” he informed with a smirk, his eyes flashing over to you without turning his head. The little vehicle was moving quickly over tall grass, hitting a  bump here or there.

“Oh, well that’s much better,” you sarcastically replied with a smile.

Finally, you reached the barn and hopped out of the vehicle. The two of you walked inside the impressive structure. Inside were five horses, one in each stall.

“We need to give them their feed for the day,” Hayden informed as he walked forward before sliding open a door to a tack room. “You wanna do the honors?” he asked once he was inside.

“Sure.”

He gave you the right amounts and you reached in their stalls and dumped the food in their buckets.

“What are their names?” you asked as you peered at the range of horses. There was a black one, a tan and white one, a deep brown one, a gray and black one, and a white one.

“The white one is Phillip, he’s Briar’s horse,” he stated while pointing and getting closer to you.

You turned your head to him and said, “Of course,” you remarked matter-of-factly.

“The black one is midnight, this one here is Allistair, this one is Braxton, and that one is Patty.”

“Very cute. And which one is yours?” you asked as your eyes began tracing his face.

“Midnight,” he replied before looking down at you, his eyes filling with a questionable emotion. He cleared his throat. “Alright, now that that’s done, we need to go feed the pigs and chickens and sheep.”

“Joy,” you said with heavy sarcasm.

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

It took a long time to get all of the animals fed and get the cows corralled to a different pasture. By the time you were done, it was lunch time. You had checked your phone several times and there were no messages or calls from Sebastian. You decided to send him a couple of quick texts and there was still no response.

“Alright, we’re done for the day, the farmhands can handle the rest. Want to head back to the house for lunch?” he asked with a happy glow in his eyes and voice.

“Yes, please, I’m starving.”

The two of you hopped back into the vehicle and he took off.

“Want to see how fast this can go?” Hayden asked before looking over to you and giving you a smirk.

“Uh, sure,” you said, not expecting it to exceed 15 mph. But as soon as he hit the gas, you were thrown backwards with a small shriek, causing him to laugh, but he kept on the gas. You straightened up and held onto a handlebar as the speed increased, the field around you escaping underneath your UTV. “How fast are we going?” you loudly asked, loose strands of your hair whipping all around your face.

He looked down then back up at the path in front of him. “About fifty-five miles per hour,” he informed nonchalantly.

“Jesus, Hayden, slow down!” you instructed in a panic. “What if we hit something!”

“It’s an open field, Y/N, calm down.”

“What about a hole?”

“That’s what the roll cage is for,” he stated, tapping it with two fingers and a coy grin.

“You’re insane, you know that?!” you huffed as you held onto the UTV, trying not to fly out from all the bumps and ridges and speed that was making you bounce around.

“And you used to love fast cars. If I remember right, I bought a Ferrari and who was the one that got it up to 180?” he reminded.

“I was young, and stupid, and reckless,” you retorted with a coquettish expression.

Finally, you arrived back at the front door.

“You tried to kill me,” you accused playfully as you got off the UTV and headed inside.

He smiled down at you as he moved behind you while you went inside. “Don’t be silly, if I wanted to kill you, I’d smother you in your sleep.”

You laughed as you rounded the corner to get into the kitchen. “As if. I could kick your ass in my sleep.”

He laughed, the sound so beautiful, you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to hear it. “You wouldn’t wake up if someone dropped a nuke next to you.”

“You’re right, because I’d be dead,” you said before sticking your tongue out.

“Real mature. You okay with sandwiches?”

“When am I not?” you asked with a smile.

The two of you assembled your sandwiches, loaded up on potato chips on the side, grabbed drinks and ventured to the living room where he turned on the TV.

You two were long done eating, about two movies in when it went to commercial and Hayden got up to clear the plates.

“You want a drink or a cookie or anything?” he asked once he was in the kitchen.

“A water and a cookie, please, thanks!” you called back from the couch. You had ended up going from a sitting position to nearly laying down. Sitting up, you straightened yourself and looked around again at all the pictures and memories. You couldn’t help but wonder how many times they’d watched family movies in this very room, colored with Briar, spent romantic evenings here….

Hayden returned with the snacks and was about to start playing the movie again when you stopped him.

“Doesn’t it...bother you? Being here? Surrounded by all of this? Doesn’t it sort of...rub salt in the wound?” you questioned, a deep frown on your face, your eyes pointing to the things you were referring to.

Hayden glanced up. “No. I mean, I built this house in my image and Rach and I shared a lot of happy memories here. This is where Briar Rose grew up for the first three years of her life so...I can’t imagine leaving it.”

In a sense, you could understand that.

“So...who initiated the breakup?” you questioned with trepidation, worried this was a sore subject.

His eyes went down, he bit his lip and slightly nodded before answering, “She did. It was only a matter of time. She was always the one to sacrifice her time for me. She gave up going out, being in the spotlight, being around her friends for me. It’s not like I could ask her do that too much longer.”

“So she’s the one who said it first?” you confirmed.

“Yeah...She came to me, calmly, and said she thought it was time for us to move on and part ways.”

“Did you object?” you wondered.

“At first, I sort of did,” he answered, shrugging, sounding more tired than anything. “I asked her if she was sure that’s what she wanted. I asked her if she had thought it through. When she told me she had and why she felt this way, I understood. I can’t change, and she tried to change for years but...it just wasn’t working.”

You slowly nodded, your stomach in knots. This was hard to hear for a myriad of reasons.

“Well,” you sighed, picking up the remote, “I just wondered.” You played the movie as you nestled back down into your spot on the couch.

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

“I can’t go, Hayden,” you argued adamantly. “I’m needed here. I have a job for the biggest publishing house in the city.”

“I know that, but you can write anywhere, right?” he countered, stress taking over his features.

“I thought I could, but they want me here. I can’t just give this up. I’m the only student at NYU with a job and opportunity this amazing in the English Department. You do realize they want to make my play into a Broadway show, right?” you asked, your emotions starting to run rampant.

“Yes, Y/N, I know that. You realize me starring in Star Wars is a big deal too, right? And I need to be out there, working on it, promoting it, looking for my next job.”

“Then go! Who’s stopping you?!” you shouted, tears threatening to escape as your heart became torn. You had had this argument several times: Who gives up their dreams for the other one?

“You are! I love you! I want you!” he yelled back.

The next morning, inspiration struck, and it struck hard. It was one of those ideas you had to write out or you’d never get it out of your head. You jumped up, got your laptop and charging cable and notebook and pens out, got them all sat up on a little desk opposite of your bed, and sat to work. You outlined and drafted like a maniac. There was so much chicken scratch on the paper it was hardly legible, but you knew.

Hayden assumed you were sleeping in a little, like always, so he made breakfast and went to check on you, to maybe tell you food was ready. Much to his surprise, you were awake and typing and writing with fury. He leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the sight of you with messy hair, pajamas, and all of your writing material around you. He missed seeing this, seeing the muses whisk you away to another land. He remembered how much he loved watching you work your magic. You had two best sellers in novels, three sold out Broadway plays, and an Oscar award winning screenplay. Those were just the big awards, not to mention the numerous smaller accolades you’d achieved in the past fifteen years.

“Inspiration strike?” he asked finally, an adoring smile on his face.

Your eyes never left your screen as you typed and answered him, “Yes, finally.” You finished writing the paragraph and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind. I have a deadline and--”

“Y/N, this is your job. You do whatever you need to do. Breakfast is ready if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can leave this. I’ve had writer’s block for so long, I can’t leave this now,” you explained desperately, gesturing back to your computer with a half-frown, half-pout.

He smiled in response. “Not a problem. I’ll bring it to you.”

“What?” is all you got out before Hayden disappeared down the hall. “Hayden! Hayden!” you shouted after him before rolling your eyes and smiling. You turned back to your work and five minutes later, he was rolling a cart into your room with toast, jams, butter, biscuits, bacon, eggs, and juice.

You laughed and glanced up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing breakfast to you. This way you can write and keep your mind fueled,” he informed as he grabbed a chair and pulled it next to the cart, opposite of you.

You shook your head. “Alright.” You grabbed toast and began to put butter on it. “Don’t you have to go milk cows or something?” you inquired innocently.

Smirking, he gently shook his head. “Not today, I asked the farm hands to take on a few more responsibilities today,” he informed.

“Why?”

“I wanted to spend time with you. I did call you up for that reason,” he reminded.

“Ah, right, and here I am investing the time in writing,” you commented, feeling guilty. Your oldest friend needed you and you were busy capitalizing on the sensation and sights of his farm. “I’m an awful friend. Okay, I’ll put my writing away and we’ll do whatever you want.”

He shook his head in rejection. “Nonsense. No, you keep writing. I’m happy to sit here and watch and eat.”

“Creepy,” you teased with a goofy smile before turning back to your work.

After an hour of writing, your hands were cramping up and you needed a break before you would go cross eyed. You got up and laid on the bed and Hayden followed suit, falling beside you.

“Care if we just watch TV for a second? I need to sort of drain,” you informed.

“It won’t mess with your flow?”

You shrugged. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got the outline written out,” you stated.

“What’s this story even about?” he questioned, his flawless face turned to yours.

“A boy who moves to the country for a fresh start,” you stated, your nose crinkling at him.

“Oh, so it’s about me?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up, a knowing smile on his face.

“Maybe,” you informed with a playful grin as your eyes drifted to the ceiling. “He falls in love with his neighbor.”

“You better put me down as a source,” he warned.

You scoffed. “You’re merely the inspiration, not a source.”

“Is that so?” he challenged as he turned to you. “I beg to differ.” He reached over and began to tickle your side.

“What are you doing?” you asked just as he started to tickle you.

“Put me down as a source,” he said.

“Hayden, stop it. Stop!” you squealed as he continued to tickle you.

“Put me as a source,” he demanded with a grin.

“Never,” you countered, a playful glare.

“Then you’re asking for it,” he stated as both of his hands now found both of your sides and your underarms and he was straddling you, tickling you mercilessly.

“Hayden! Hay! I can’t breathe!” you tried through so much laughter you were crying. “Okay! You win! Uncle! I call Uncle!” you shrieked.

His assault stopped and his hands rested on either side of you, his body hovering above you, his deep eyes searching yours. The morning glow looked heavenly on his skin and his blonde hair, making him light up like an angel. For a brief moment, you thought you were back when you were twenty-two, when all was perfect between you two. The tension between you two was rising quickly, and it was getting thicker.

A phone rang, yours, and Hayden’s face went from gentle joy to depression as he rolled off of you and you reached over to grab your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Seb? Why didn’t you call yesterday?”

“Oh, sorry. I got up late and had to run to an interview, then the table read, and by the time I was home it was late. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and closed your eyes. Again, you weren’t the first thing on his mind. “No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“So how’s it going?”

“Great. I’m actually inspired, so I’ve been writing all morning,” you informed happily.

“That’s great, Y/N. What’s it about?” he asked with much enthusiasm.

Your gut dropped. You knew how this was going to sound to him. “A young man that moves to the country...who falls in love with his neighbor.”

Silence.

“Seb? You still there?”

“Yeah...Well that’s good, Y/N. When are you coming home?”

You glanced to Hayden beside you who was playing with his sleeve. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I’m finally motivated to write, so I’m probably going to finish the project here and come home.”

“So...You’re going to stay up there indefinitely?” he questioned, sounding confused.

“I’m not sure, Seb. I just want to ride this wave out. You do want me to get my work done, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah of course...I just...I miss you. I’d like you home.”

“I know. I miss you too. I’ll be home as soon as possible. I promise.”

“Okay...I love you. Talk to you later.”

“I love you too.”

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

Later that night, you were so entranced with your work you didn’t realize it was late evening. Hayden had excused himself a couple hours earlier to go wrap up some farm work before bed and now you were missing him and needing a break. You got up, pulled on your boots, and went outside.

You didn’t have the UTV so you had to walk all the way to the barn, and in the cool air of the night, it seemed a lot farther than normal. But after checking the tack rooms, loft, and stalls and calling for him, you realized the barn was sans-Hayden.

Just as you were about to follow the road from the barn the opposite way of the house, your eye caught an orange glow on the horizon. Like a moth to the flame, your feet carried you there without much thought on your own.

Finally, you reached the orange glow and it turned out to be a very large brush fire, Hayden standing next to it, watching it burn, his black trench coat looking incredibly dapper on him, his hands in his pockets. The glow from the fire complimented his tanned skin and blonde hair, making him look almost golden all over. Even doing farm work he looked like he needed to be on the cover of GQ.

“Whatcha doin’?” you asked as you walked up through the overgrown grass.

“Burning some brush, had to clear it away from the pond in lot five so the cattle could get to the water. Figured I might as well burn it all.”

“To hell with it all!” you joked and he laughed, the sound warming you from the inside. “This reminds me of--”

“Please, for the love of God, don’t say the scene in Return of the Jedi,’ he begged with a smile in his voice.

You grinned and tried to keep from laughing, but instead both of you began laughing a lot.

“Not my fault your character died on a giant bonfire,” you retorted.

“I’ll have you know, I haunted my own death, so there,” he responded.

You rolled your eyes. “Wooh, Mr. Scary Force Ghost. Oooh.”

He bumped your shoulder with his and grinned, looking down. “This reminds me of that time we got stuck in the snow--”

“And had to walk two miles up the road to rent that cabin?” you finished, peering up at him sideways.

“Yes. Oh my god, that night was so…” he trailed off. That night was a lot of things. Hot, steamy, cold, wet, miserable, and magical.

“I know. That damned car wouldn’t start and it was brand new!” you reminded. It was Hayden’s car, he had just bought it that week. The two of you were heading upstate for a weekend getaway, when the car had suddenly died in the middle of a snowy, icy road. No one drove past you for an hour and cell phones were still pretty spotty at the time.

“I remember. I was pissed.”

“At least it gave us something to do,” you noted, recalling some salacious memories.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to you. “Jesus, Y/N, what are you doing out here without a coat?”

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, Dad,” you teased. “We’re next to a fire.”

He started to shrug off his coat. “Your front is, but your back is positively cold. Wear this.”

“Hay, I’m fine,” you assured, holding up your hand.

“I’m not letting you get pneumonia on my watch because you’re a stubborn ass,” he retorted. “Put on the god damn coat.”

Rolling your eyes, and grunting, you appeased him and slid on the warm coat, the scent of Hayden hitting you and making your head spin slightly.

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

A few days later, you were relaxing after finishing your fourth story. You’d been typing and writing up a storm for the past several days and now you just wanted to watch mindless TV for a bit. Trying to get Hayden to open up was proving to be a difficult task, but you eventually backed off. You were here as a friend, to be whatever he needed. In the meantime, you talked to Seb about once a day, typically first thing in the morning or last at night.

You were laid against the giant, fluffy back pillow of the couch, Hayden beside you, his arm thrown behind the couch, landing behind your head.

“This movie is so terrible,” you commented suddenly. The two of you were watching some B-horror movie on the Chiller channel.

“Are you kidding me? This is quality film right here. Just look at the way that guy acts,” he offered, his other hand gesturing to the TV.

“You’re a dork,” you replied with a small laugh.

“I want to thank you for being here,” he quietly said as he tapped your shoulder once with two fingers to grab your attention.

You turned to him. “It’s no big deal, Hay. You’re my friend. You need someone and I’m happy to be there for you.” You smiled at him, a light reaching your eyes that seemed to mesmerize him.

“You’re such a good person. I am so lucky to have you in my life,” he stated in a deep voice, his eyes piercing yours. A familiar heat started to rise in your cheeks.

“And I you. Really, it’s nothing. You’d do it for me,” you stated, a small nod.

“Yeah...I would. I’d do anything for you.” His eyes were on yours and yours on his, the air around you suddenly tense.

Static.

That’s all you felt between you two suddenly. His eyes were on yours, dancing between your lips and your face. Your breath was halted in your throat as you sat there, unable to move. Your pulse was racing.

Slowly, his hand came up to cup your neck, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. Hooded eyes found his face as he ever so slowly got closer and closer. While you didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to betray Seb, you also didn’t want to stop it either. He was actually giving you attention, something Sebastian hadn’t done in eight months. It felt nice to be wanted, to be looked at the way Hayden had been looking at you for the past several days.

He got to your mouth, his lips just a hair away from yours. He stalled there, waiting for permission. Like a fool, you granted it. You closed the small gap and tasted his lips on yours, the faint taste of cigarettes on his lips from the nights he went out to have a smoke or two before bed.

An explosion erupted inside you and you found your hands nearly clawing at him, pulling him ever closer to you. His lips molded with yours perfectly. You grabbed at his sweater as he moaned into your mouth and began to push you onto the couch, into a laying position. Now, he was wedged between your legs, nearly panting as you laid kiss after kiss on each other. Your hand found its way under his sweater to his chest and he began kissing along your jawline, to your ear.

Finally, your conscience woke up from its nap and snapped you out of it.

“Wait, Hayden, stop,” you instructed and he immediately sat up. “We can’t do this,” you softly said, peering at him. “I’m with Sebastian. I love him...You’re still hurting from Rachel...This isn’t right.”

He nodded and sat back on the end of the couch, giving you room to sit up yourself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry...I just….I guess old habits die hard,” he joked half-heartedly.

You gave a sad smile and nodded.

[another-chorus-girl]

Erik House - Chapter 11

Hello pham! Now it’s been a little while longer for this update and it’s because I wanted to wait until today to post it. As of now ALW’s “Phantom of the Opera” is celebrating 31 years since its original debut on October 9, 1986. Happy anniversary phamily!

"No NO!" Erik scowled, halting his composition. "There needs to be inflection! It is not simply spewing out lyrics! There must be pain and passion in your voice, raw emotion!"

Gerik meekly nodded, not fool enough to question the fully masked man. They'd been at it for hours tonight.

"Again!" Erik commanded, starting from the beginning of the aria on the organ.

Gerik took a breathe and started over. While Erik was frustrated he could not deny he was seeing little by little some improvement. Still the film adapted man was a more trying pupil than Christine had been. But Gerik was fortunately willing to learn, it was just a matter of Erik breaking down the man's old habits.

The men paused hearing a door open and close, followed by footsteps.

"Is it possible that a break is imminent in the near future?" Kerik called, "Some of us would like to enjoy a meal in peace and quiet."

Erik's golden eyes narrowed into slits, "I thought I had said no one was to come down and disturb me under any circumstances."

"I'll have you know I'm NOT downstairs, merely my voice is." The novelised man's voice echoed around them, displaying his own ventriloquism skills. Footsteps descended until Kerik was down the steps. "Now I'm downstairs. There's a difference."

Erik groaned, waving a hand at Gerik. "Go, we're done for today at any rate. And remember what I said."

Gerik got up, adjusting his cravat before taking his leave passed Kerik-who's yellow eyes bore into him the entire time.

"That was my unsaid queue for you to take leave as well boy," Erik grumbled, standing fully.

"Why are you suddenly being so kind as of lately?" Kerik asked, ignoring the elder man's demand, flouncing down on a nearby couch. Stroking his hand along the red velvet cushion his eyes gleamed. "Ooh, Louis Phillipe furniture I see?"

"And just how have I been been 'kind as of lately'?" Erik asked, crossing his arms.  

"Don't think I haven't noticed you lurking about upstairs. I know it was you that calmed Cherik down when Cudia damaged one of his stuffed birds. Or the one that left foiled sweets for Panaro when he was worrying over that dog of his falling ill? And now giving private lessons?" Kerik went on.

Erik's gaze softened, "I'm merely looking out for my own. Believe it or not while many of you-especially YOU-can be a thorn in my side, I consider you lot....my family."

"Hm," Sitting up Kerik shrugged, "If it makes you feel better, I think he's making progress at least. It's still a little distasteful to my ears, but tolerable to an extent."

Hearing footsteps coming down, Lerik and Crawford blinked puzzled to see the novelised man lounging in the basement with his older counterpart.

"I suppose I'll go since it's time for seniors night," Kerik remarked, patting Erik's arm-whom flinched with a glare at the physical contact-before walking passed the other two men.

Lerik pulled out his board and held it up to be read, 'What was that all about exactly?'

Erik shook his head, "Let's just say our youth can be....exhausting to say the least."

Sitting down, Crawford nodded. "You preach to the choir my good monsieur."

"That reminds me," Erik asked, "Your lot are going to behave I should hope at this...soiree of sorts your hosting I trust?"

The older Merik nodded, "Of course, they know not to step out of line on this night."

"Even given our other guests that will be in attendance?"

"Yes, every precaution is being taken."

"Splendid," Erik clasped his hands together. "Well let's see to our other matters then. Lerik, I believe you had something to say last time?"

The mute scowled behind his mask before Erik realised what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me..."   --

"And then what?" Winslow asked.

Destler downed his glass in one shot, bringing it down onto the table with a cheeky chuckle.

"I hung the cad upside down before gutting him like a fish," He seemed to boast. 

"You know what I said to the boy just before that?"

He shook his head.

"He said he wouldn't let such a clumsy mistake happen again to which I said 'You're SUSPENDED!'"

The two men were cackling with laughter, earning some unsettled looks from the cafes other patrons. 

"Doesn't sound much better than that horrible Beef I had to deal with," Winslow groaned as he scribbled down more notes.

"You had a beef with whom?" Destler asked, adjusting his glasses.

"No his NAME was Beef."

He chuckled as Winslow explained.

"And then I cornered him whilst the fool was showering, didn't even register I was there until I pulled the curtain back."

"You came at him with a knife I presume?"

"I had one but no," Winslow said.

"Then what?"

"...A plunger"

Destler was holding his sides as he laughed, "Used I should hope?"

To which Winslow merely flashed him a silver toothed grin.

"Say, what's that?" A voice interrupted the men as they glanced at the source. A young man in perhaps his early twenties with brown clean kept hair stood. His clothes looked finely pressed and immaculate.

"N-Nothing," Winslow mumbled shyly, trying to conceal the score he was working on.

The young man chuckled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'm not very familiar with music, but my wife is very in depth with it though."

"Very nice, now I believe my companion wanted some privacy." Destler scowled, removing his glasses setting them on the table.

The boy held his hands up in innocence with a nervous glance. "I meant no intrusion monsieur. I merely was curious about his music-"

"And he merely does not wish to discuss it."

Realising the situation was going south, the young man backed off going back to his table.

"Thank you," Winslow said, pulling the sheet music back out from under the crook of his arm. "I just...don't like other people looking at my music anymore. I don't trust them."

Destler made a remark, "Heh, you show me."

"That's different. I trust you,"

Destler's brown eyes met Winslow's blue.

"I don't think anyone's ever really put trust in me before," He confessed.

Winslow nodded, "I've put too much trust in people. But I don't do that anymore, except you."

"Thank you," He smiled, watching Winslow work.

--

"You're sure about this? I can move down instead? It wouldn't be too much trouble." Panaro asked, carrying a box down the hall.

Karimloo shook his head, walking with him, a large box in his arms as well. 

"Don't be silly, besides with Soot that would be even more work having to switch rooms. Besides, I don't own too much."

Since the Meriks had developed a well budding companionship, half the time they barely stayed separated at night now. So Panaro and Karimloo decided to cut out the middle man and share a room. Single quarters were a luxury, only a handful of the Meriks received one-as there were so many occupants and not enough rooms to go around even for the enormous house.

But they just couldn't stay apart.

"I just want to make sure your happy," Panaro said, setting their boxes down in the room.

Karimloo held the Merik's chin between his thumb and index finger with a smile.

"Of course I'm happy," He said, his malformed lips grazing over the other man's. With his free arm, Karimloo gently clicked the door closed. "I think we earned a break." -- Gerik practised what Erik was teaching him during the free hours he had. The elder man was a strict teacher, but he had yet to be mistaken on anything in his curriculum.

Y offered to help him as well, suggesting they practice together. Gerik enjoyed the idea, though his older friend noticed that each time they would meet to practice it was never at his own room.

"Why don't we ever practice in your quarters?" Y asked bluntly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Gerik's pale blue eyes glanced the other way. "Oh. Haven't we? I um....I guess I didn't notice."

"What's going on? Is there something your hiding?" Y asked, his unblinking eyes narrowed quizzically.

"No. Well yes. Wait no! That's not what I meant."

The older man sighed, "Tell me it's not something that needs to be brought up with Monsieur Fantome?"

"I should hope not! If he sees it, he'll likely request never to be in my presence again!" Gerik retorted.

"What?"

He sighed, "Why don't I just show you?"

Pulling out his key Gerik unlocked the door, pushing it open with a creak. 

Flipping the light, Mr. Y was somewhat taken back at what he saw.

At first he was startled thinking he had seen Karimloo standing in the room. Well, technically it was Karimloo, or at least the mannequin looked like him-even the mask was authentic and identical.

"You mean to tell me you made this?" He asked.

The film adapted man nodded, "Yes. Those photos Harley gave me were actually quite good references."

"Did you even-" He mumbled, pulling off the mannequin's mask only to place it back on its' face. "Oh! Yes, it seems you even got his....entire face done correctly."

Y turned to Gerik, looking as though a lightbulb had just gone off in his head.

"Wait, is THIS why you were asking me about the automatons I made for Phantasma?"

Gerik's face went a darker shade of red, "Yes..."

"You realise I designed those for entertainment purposes in the park-"

"I already know about her," Gerik stated.

"That was a scrap idea! I didn't even use it!" He retorted. "Can I ask you not to bring that sore spot up with Anna?"

"I don't want to do anything obscene I just wanted it to be...lifelike." Gerik confessed.

Y couldn't help but frown, his friend was hurting. After seeing Gerik run upstairs to his room still doing his belt and shirt up he confronted the film adapted man and heard all about Karimloo and Panaro and then the run in with Kerik.

It wasn't a healthy obsession per se Gerik was going through. Then again, when had ANY man in this house not had an unhealthy obsession in their lifetimes? But unlike the last one Gerik's wasn't affecting anybody, he wasn't trying to dismantle The West End and Broadway mingled romance. The most he'd done was shoot Panaro a dirty look behind his back or stared over at Karimloo when he wasn't looking.

"I'll give you the basic layout I used," Mr. Y relented, "But I expect to see the finished product. I won't be held responsible if Karimloo finds out about a sex bot clone. One Merik ringing out my neck was enough."     --

Crawford was not exaggerating when he said every precaution was taken for this night. No stone was left unturned as he attempted to lock up for the evening any lasso from the Meriks in attendance and hiding away anything they could tie into a makeshift rope. The longest length of thread allowed would be their bowties, and even that he was on the fence permitting.

But he had another bargaining chip that appealed to most of them.

"There will be absolutely no mishaps tonight. This is important. Not just to me, but I know it is important to you as well." Crawford explained sternly but calmly. 

"And, I have one last ultimatum. Should your behaviour reflect poorly, your claim on the vacant quarters will be relinquished. I see one of you so much as making catgut cat's cradles and you've past the point of no return as far as the room is concerned."

This last remark made some heads perk up. Crawford was already aware of the little contest the Meriks wanted to have for the free room. And it might just make most of them behave for an evening like this.

But while a personal room amongst a floor of slightly discontent roommates was a hefty and tempting bargaining chip, it would not be an easy night for most to endure once the first knock came to the door.

Sarah was the first to arrive, putting her arms around Crawford as he greeted her at the door.

"I knew you would be here," He smiled holding a single red rose for her. "Happy anniversary darling."

She leaned up to kiss him, her free hand grasping his coat lapel.

"Thirty-one years. They seem to have rolled by like days," She mused.

"Indeed they have,"

He then handed her another rose, but this one unlike the first was a pristine shade of white.

"This is our night, but I know you would have wanted him to be here too." 

Crawford said solemnly, as Sarah accepted the white rose.

Her pale blue eyes softened, she fell in his arms and he could feel Sarah tremble.

"Yes, you're right," She nodded, feeling his hand reach up to pet her curls. 

Pulling back she gave him a smile. "But this is a night to celebrate yes?"

"Of course. It's just a wait for the others now."

And soon another knock had come. Mauer was pleased to see Elizabeth arrive, the Merik also offering her a red rose.

When another familiar face was awaiting at the door, that was when the ultimate test started.

"Ah! Sierra, do come in" Crawford allowed her in. "And...I'm sorry what was it again?"

"Ahem, Fraser if you please." The brunette male accompanying Sierra said. He knew this wasn't Karimloo, nor was the other masked man at the door, but it still unnerved him. Especially knowing somewhere in the house he was indeed here.

"I'm not sure about this," He mumbled to his wife, his arm interlinked with hers.

"There's no need for that. Besides we were BOTH invited here, this is our night too." Sierra reassured him, leaning against his shoulder.

Fraser sighed, "Alright, but the second I see a red lasso in sight we are leaving."

"I understand, and please put your arm down! You look ridiculous!" She joked, swatting his free hand that he had held up.

They were greeted upstairs to a parlour room full of masked men.

"Madame, he's merely being cautious." Warlow stated. "But you needn't keep your hand at the level of your eyes all night monsieur. One, you'll just create a cramp in your arm after so long. Two, we're all well aware of what tonight represents, and mean you no harm."

"Tonight that is" Lewis scowled as did Davies. Jones whom was seated and receiving a tarot reading from Kerik glanced up surprisingly at Sierra and Fraser.

"Hmm I see old memories....of despair ahead," Kerik mumbled, his back to the couple.

Looking up at the Merik whom shifted uncomfortably in his seat he turned to what exactly Jones was looking at.

"Wow, I'm good at this!" Kerik said smirking down at the cards in front of them.  

Tugging on Fraser's arm Sierra said, "Why don't we sit down? I see-"

Karimloo stood frozen in the doorway.

"Love? What's-" Panaro said catching up with Karimloo whom paused seeing new faces in the parlour, "-wrong?"

Sierra smiled, "Karimloo, it's...been awhile."

"Y-Yes it has," He stammered.

All the while this awkward encounter was happening Fraser glared at Karimloo, hardly hiding his distaste for the man that almost killed him. On the other spectrum, Panaro found himself scowling as well.

"Good to see you again too! I heard you two hit things off, congratulations." 

Sierra smiled at Panaro, but the Merik just glared icily, Karimloo noticing the other man's arm a little tighter around his.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

But once more of the guests arrived-sopranos and their respective Vicomte's-things were surprisingly calm. Although McKintosh and Lewis got into a slight confrontation with Hays that soon enough was subsided before things went beyond loud French insults.

Barrowman and Freeman scowled at each other. 

"Shouldn't you be travelling through time or space or something?" Freeman scoffed.

"Har har monsieur, like I haven't heard that one before."

Fraser had excused himself to use the facilities. As he was making his way back to the parlour, the Vicomte felt his collar be tugged back. Immediately Fraser's hand went up in a panic.  

"Unhand me you-!" Fraser started but paused realising it was Panaro behind him. "Wait what is this all about?!"

"Just keep your wife in check monsieur," The Merik jabbed.

Fraser blinked, "Excuse me?"

"I know they have a past, and I don't like the way she smiles and giggles talking to him in there." Panaro grumbled crossing his arms like a disgruntled child.

"I assure you my wife certainly has no intentions towards your...companion. I don't exactly enjoy that she often talks of him as a friend."

"Talks OFTEN of him?!"

The brunette eyed him still somewhat suspicious of Panaro's motive. "Just take my word that nothing is or certainly ever will be going on with them. I won't bar her from making friends, but I'm not losing her either."

Panaro glared before turning to leave, "Fine."

And the two men left it at that for the time being, neither wishing to sour the night.

Soon with only an hour until midnight and Jones clinked a glass to signal for some attention.

"While I know this evening may have been somewhat rocky," Seeing some faces in the crowd nod or shrug in indifference. "It truly says something about us to be here together. I think we're all agreed that putting aside some differences for a night like this is understandable?"

"For another hour that is," Karimloo glared at Fraser whom scowled right back.

The Merik grimaced feeling someone pinch his ear.

"Behave," Wilkinson scolded to which Karimloo meekly nodded bowing his head.

"Well said," Crawford nodded.

Jones smiled feeling rather proud of the praise. "Yes well, thanks. Actually, did you care to say anything? Of all of us this is really your night the most."

"I don't really have much to say. Except that we all made this happen, and we should acknowledge and take pride in that."

Even a few of the Vicomtes' in the parlour smiled at this.

"Cheers." --

Fortunately, unlike the last occasion the Meriks consumed alcohol, the chaos was controlled and free of any fire or punjabbing as the De Chagny's and sopranos took care the leave before midnight struck.

Sarah and Elizabeth were still present, the latter listening to Mauer play in the parlour. Sierra and Fraser were leaving just before this time came around.

"It was nice seeing you again," Sierra said to Karimloo.

"Yes, I...it was nice seeing you." The West End man said stumbling over his jumbled words.

He flinched feeling the brunette's arms around him in a hug. Hesitantly Karimloo returned the gesture. 

“He’s a keeper,” She whispered in his ear, “I’m happy for you.”

Karimloo felt his face flush, “What?? I don’t...I”

Sierra giggled, “I know! And I think it’s very sweet. You deserve to be happy too.”

A tiny smile creeped over his face at the thought of him, “Yes, well thank you.”

As she and Fraser departed Karimloo didn't see Panaro in the parlour. His assumption right that he’d retired to their quarters, Karimloo shimmied the door open with his foot, holding the last half of a bottle.   

"Care for more wine?" Karimloo asked

"Fill it up," Panaro frowned.

He glanced at the Broadway man confused, "Something troubling you?"

"Of course not,"

But his large gulps of the wine-already reaching to refill his glass-and trembling hands seem to say otherwise. -- Cherik was adding a new edition to his rooftop dreamery-a pheasant it would seem-when he noticed a dark figure sitting on the roof's edge.

Walking closer, he could see-even with the figure's back to him-it was Jones sitting alone.

"Why arn't you at the party?" Cherik asked, "I'd have thought you of all people would be there."

Jones smiled, "Oh I was, but I had enough excitement for one night I think. 

Besides, it's a beautiful night out, don't you think?"

"Yes it is," The full masked man nodded. He shifted a little uneasily. "Would you...would you mind terribly if I joined you?"

"Not at all," Jones said, patting a spot beside him.

Cherik and the Merik sat together, watching the stars up ahead, noticing one shoot past in a flash with a white tail.

"I don't understand the concept people have with 'shooting stars' and wishing upon them." Cherik said.

The Merik nodded, "Neither do I. But you can still wish on it, you never do know what will happen."

Cherik's lip curved up in the tiniest of smiles looking back at Jones. --

"Where has the time gone really?" Sarah asked.

With an arm around her Crawford nodded, "And yet it feels like yesterday."

"I've missed you." Her eyes look up at him,

The Merik sighed, "I'm so sorry. I've missed you too, and hearing your voice. So many nights I want nothing more than you."

"But they need you here."

By this point everyone else had retired for the evening. They were the only two left in the dimly lit parlour.

"At least no one needs me right now." Crawford said.

"Just me."

Sarah stifled a yawn to which Crawford chuckled. "It sounds as though someone is tired."

Already she was beginning to doze off, fighting to keep her eyes open. Reaching around, the Merik scooped her up in his arm as he stood.

Taking great care, he walked them down the hall, opening the door and setting Sarah gently down on the bed. She couldn't help the sleepy smile gracing her lips seeing the photograph of them, hands clasped together on their wedding day. Her small fingers played with the ring on her finger of gold plating around an onyx stone. Sarah’s eyes fall closed just as she felt a warm blanket being wrapped around her. 

"Pleasant dreams love," The Merik whispered, extinguishing what little light remained in the room.

-As stated above October 9 this year marks 31 years since Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman, and Steve Barton dubut the ALW musical at Her Majesty’s Theatre back in 1986 today. 

-Crawford presenting Sarah with a white rose as well representing as I stated in a previous chapter that Steve Barton the original ALW Raoul sadly passed away back in 2001. 

-Welp we all do remember the mannequin in the 2004 film (and the ALW musical)

-The reference Gerik makes to Mr. Y about “her” is the Christine automaton used in the London version with Ramin Karimloo as Mr Y/The Phantom. But as this Mr. Y is Ben Lewis’ adaptation he didn’t use the robot Christine in his production.

-Sort of a tidbit rather than a footnote, Ramin idolised and very much respects Colm Wilkinson and this is why Karimloo is so complacent when Wilkinson scolds him.

-As Sierra Boggess has played Christine with Ramin Karimloo, she has also done so with Ben Lewis, John Owen Jones, Scott Davies, and very briefly with Hugh Panaro. 

-The following Raouls’ mentioned were Ethan Freeman, Hadley Fraser, John Barrowman and, Peter Hays. If a Raoul is brought up in the story like the Meriks’ they will be referred to by their last names, the Christine’s will still be by first name.

-The pun Freeman makes is in reference to John Barrowman also playing Jack Harkness on the British tv series “Doctor Who”.

-The wedding photo referenced at the very end is one of the many promo pictures for the ALW musical shot with Crawford and Brightman together with the latter wearing her wedding gown. The ring mentioned being the one used in the musical that the Phantom presents to Christine when trying to force her into marrying him at the end of PoNR.  

[je-suis-clarisse]

Capture (Part 4)

1944. A few phone calls had gotten Peggy Carter precisely what she wanted. One Payne Z. Queen on the other end of the other end of the line. "Mr. Queen, my name is Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR. We have a mutual aquaintance, in one Clarisse du Volde," she began. The sound of bombs in the background didn't even phase her. She was used to it, as tired of it as she was. She was busy with Rogers and Captain Phillips, but this was important too. She kept in touch with the nurses whom Clarisse had been working with, telling them that if the vampire turned back up to let her know or if she happened to get any mail--anything of importance. This request was more fruitful; a pile of unopened letters had arrived and was sitting on her desk, each with 'urgent' written on the front. It was clearly from someone on the Front, given the fact that the envelope was slightly beaten up and dirty. Respecting Clarisse's privacy, Peggy didn't open every one, since it was clear they were from the same person. She only opened one and it had begun 'Kitten, I'm worried about you. I haven't heard from you in months. Are you angry with me? You made me promise I'd write you daily, but you've been silent. Were you wounded? Were you sent home? I need to know that you're alright, Clarisse...' She hadn't read further, not wanting to intrude on her privacy, but Peggy had done the research and found this Payne Queen. It had taken some work on her part, but she'd managed to arrange for a phone call when they reached a town for a bit of respite. Granted, judging by the sounds in the background, that was not happening. Payne sounded exhausted and uncertain of the woman on the line, but she wasn't sure how to put him at ease. There really wasn't a way to do so. As she had done with Elijah, Peggy decided to simply be upfront. Honesty went a long way. "I have news for you...though I would prefer to tell you face to face, that seems impossible right now." "Go ahead, Agent," came the reply. "Your ladyfriend has been captured by the Germans. " "Fucking son of a bi--...I'm sorry, ma'am." Peggy proceeded to dismiss the apology as unnecessary, explaining all of what Elijah had been able to garner before discovering that another facility was holding his wayward brother Niklaus. Knowing Payne existed, firstly, put her at ease as she knew that there would be someone to look for Clarisse. Elijah was obviously concerned, but he knew just as well as anyone, that Clarisse was not a weakling and she would survive somehow. The same could be said of his brother, but she supposed blood was thicker than water--Clarisse wasn't actually blood. "Carter, do you know where she is precisely?" "I cannot say that I do. They keep moving to throw us off their trail, the last I heard was somewhere in Berlin, or just outside of it. I must warn you, that there is always the possibility that she--" "You don't have to tell me, ma'am. But since you know her too...then you know she won't give up easily." "I've pulled some strings...and I managed to get you two weeks furlough..." Peggy let her voice trail off, her meaning clear. She'd gotten him two weeks to go find his lady. She didn't tell him that Clarisse had done a bit of spying for the SSR--a nurse could do a great deal when all manner of soldiers came into the hospitals. Simply wished him the best and told him that if he needed her assistance, she would do what she could. 1944. Berlin. Waking up in her cell, Clarisse was disoriented. The day prior, she had been once again subjected to the sun and burning. She had managed to kill two of the guards when she screamed; the high pitch of her scream piercing their eardrums. She didn't regret it. They'd been especially cruel to those in their charge. She had witnessed them putting salt in the wounds of two werewolves who had been subjected to torture. Seeing them hit the floor with blood flowing from their ears and their faces frozen with agony written across their features had provided her with a touch of glee that she'd not felt in weeks. Her body throbbed. She remained on the pallet on the floor, in the corner, hoping that they would leave her alone today. Her eye was bruised and her lip bloodied. The lack of blood made her slower to heal and she was miserable. She didn't even look at herself in the filthy pane of glass that they called a mirror, knowing full well that she looked ghastly. Yet..she wouldn't give in. Lost in her reverie, she thought of Payne; fingers brushing over her locket. She could almost remember his voice if she thought hard enough. And of his touch...what she wouldn't give to feel his arms around her right now! That silly moment at the train platform replayed in her mind, making her smile. If only she knew where he was. She thought of Elijah and Damon, Peggy, and Howard. Friends and family. Yet, there was a touch of bitterness--she had thought Elijah would have come for her. Not a stupid woman, she knew that he probably had gotten distracted and was on the hunt for his siblings. She'd have to get herself out of here. Herself and the others here. She'd allowed herself to listen to the thoughts of those surrounding her and had found there were twenty others. Ten had died. Even when they were torturing her, she refused to tell them anything. They wanted to know how to turn Hitler and how to make an army of vampires to help them turn the tide of war. They'd given him her blood, but with a taste, it did nothing. There was the process of turning someone and none of the other vampires and herself would give up the secret. As to the wolves, they didn't seem to be giving up their secrets either. In hopes of forcing her to talk, they had pulled her toenails out. They had threatened to yank her tongue out. They'd subjected her to some old fashioned torture devices, such as the rack. Her body had been subjected to all manner of torture, to see if she'd break. They underestimated her--Clarisse refused. Despite her desire to break, her agony, she still gave nothing. They'd burned her, using the sun and cackling as she refused to give in. Every bone in her hands had been broken, she was beaten, and were it not out of fear of her teeth and nails, she knew that some of the guards had a few other ideas. They had many horrid methods, and Silas had been subjected to methods of torture that she was truly surprised hadn't killed him. They'd done research on hypothermia on him, which was horrible. He was a wolf--his body temperature was hotter than most, and then they'd put him in freezing water for hours, trying to bring his temperature down. Then they'd put him into exceedingly hot water to bring it back up, to see what they could learn. It was a wonder to Clarisse, that the gentle giant of a wolf was still alive, considering how many times they'd done it to him. One of the favorites used upon them both was hanging them by their hands behind their backs until their shoulders were out of joint. Risse had gotten quite good at popping Silas' shoulders back into place; she had done it on the battlefield before, this wasn't all that different. She had talked him through it and he had done the same for her. She was rather certain that without the other supporting them, they'd die. But her determination to get them out was quite overwhelming. As she lay on her pallet, her eyes closed, she thought of the format of the place. They had moved them around about three weeks ago and she'd committed it to memory. It was one floor, but quite large. There was a section for the laboratory, another for vampires, another for wolves. They'd had witches but realising magical ability was something that they were born with, they stopped collecting them. There were some other rooms that as far as she could tell, were empty or just not used. Two were rooms with bunkbeds within them for the guards and one was a kitchen, where meals were prepared. Not that she cared too much for that. She had begun to give Silas her meals since they were useless for her. What she needed was blood. She was running low on her vials. Dozing off, she woke up when Silas called her name out. Two people were heading in towards them. One was a woman, the other was an officer she had never seen before. Clarisse rolled her eyes before closing them again. The keys in the lock of her cell agitated her and had she the energy, she would have burnt them. What she wanted was blood. But since that wasn't an option--it was going to be sleep. She screeched as the male grabbed her arm and he recoiled, noticing the burns. Pushing the woman forward as he stepped out, he spoke. "Drink, Fraulein. You are going to meet a special guest today." Snorting, Clarisse ignored him but when the scent of blood filled her senses, she felt the prick of her fangs against her bottom lip. She resisted but the young woman cut her own wrist and it was nature that answered. Two slow steps and the woman was in her arms...and a few moments later, she was dead on the floor. Clarisse took a moment to breathe, her body healed and she felt the best she had in ages. The Officer handed her a clean dress and took the body of the young woman, dragging it somewhere as the vampire changed into the fresh dress and did her hair. Looking over at Silas, she winked before stepping out of her cell, following the Officer as he led her down the hallways. It felt strange to be in control of herself. The only thing that looked off about her was that her face still bore the marks of the soldier who had hit her the day prior. Continuing to walk with him, they paused at a door and he knocked, opening it for her and letting her in before joining them for a moment. "Fraulein du Volde, this is Hauptsturmführer Ernst Gottlieb Schwarzkopf." The Officer spoke and Clarisse stood her ground, looking him over. He had a look of irritation on his features as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. The feeling was entirely mutual, she had to say. "You can go, Jakob," Schwarzkopf told the lower-ranking man. Leaving them alone in the room, the male rose and approached her. He was an intimidating figure, standing at least 6'5 and was in excellent shape. His blue eyes were most the piercing that she had ever seen, yet still, she said nothing. His finger traced along her jawline and she could feel her stomach flipflop. It took all of her good sense not to knock him down or slap him as he touched her without consent. His finger went down to her locket and she stepped back before he could touch it again. It was the only thing of hers that she had still and she'd be damned if this Nazi bastard took it from her. "You could end your suffering," he began in German before switching to English and approaching her again. "This would go so much easier for you if you would simply tell us how to change the Führer. Let us give him eternal life. Let history remember you for your contribution to the Third Reich." His face lit up with hope as he looked her over, eyes drinking her in. "Your face could be in history books. On stage. On posters. You'd be revered as a heroine. Is this not something you wish for? Redemption!" He raised her face up, cupping her cheeks and she winced; pulling away. "You don't need my blood for that," Clarisse countered finally. "Your Führer has achieved immortality. Every time his name is spoken, it will taste of the bitterest root and people will remember what a monster and scourge he is." Once again, she felt the sting of being backhanded and she hit the floor. He was the one at a disadvantage now. Having let her feed, Clarisse was at her full strength. Standing up again, her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid, you'll regret that," she hissed, charging towards him, grabbing his knife as she tackled him. He didn't even notice at first as he drew his pistol, shooting several rounds at her. She hissed as one went through her right shoulder, another through her abdomen, and one embedded itself into her left shoulder. Clarisse growled and hissed, praying her aim was true as she threw the blade at him. She hoped, despite the pain, she would throw hard enough to pierce his heart. "How did you--" He asked, bewildered as the knife hit precisely where she hoped. "I had a good teacher," she responded as he sank to his knees. It took but a second for Clarisse to get behind him and to sink her fangs into his throat. His blood was rich and hot, strong. She supposed there was a perk to the Nazi's obsession with living healthy--it made them taste divine. As his heart began to slow, she punched through his chest, pulling the organ out. It had been years since she had felt a still-beating heart in her grasp. Veins roped around her slender wrist, forming a new bracelet and she tossed it aside carelessly. Taking his knives--he had several--and the keys to the rooms, Clarisse walked out into the hallway. Her escort was standing at the doorway and stared at her horrified. "I'm giving you a choice. You can die like your boss or you can help me," Clarisse spoke in German. The young man paused before nodding. "I need a uniform. And if anyone objects to this takeover--shoot them." She demanded, waiting for him to do her bidding. Once he arrived back, she changed out of the dress into the uniform. She felt physically ill as she put it on, but she wasn't staying another night in this hellhole. Heading for the room where she and Silas had been kept first, Clarisse walked in. The wolf glared at her, his eyes glowing in the dim light. "It's me. We're leaving." She assured him, unlocking his cell and then heading to another room and opening the cells and repeating the motion. Of course, it was never so easy as that. A truckload of soldiers arrived to relieve those within the walls of the compound. Seeing their prisoners escaping was not the way they expected to be greeted. Looking to the wolves, Clarisse met their gazes, nodding. She didn't know what languages they spoke, but she was quite delighted to see them shift into their true forms and to end the lives of their captors. The sound of skin being torn to shreds, of bones being broken and the screams made for a beautiful symphony of horror--and Clarisse for once, welcomed the cacophony.

[siodymph]

Disney Femslash Day 6

For “Prince Replacement” I couldn’t resist putting Snow White in Prince Phillip’s shoes. The scene’s just too iconic to not. Hope I did it some justice!

(And just so you guy know, I’m happy to take any requests till the 12th! And if you have made any requests for this fan week you can expect to see them published starting tomorrow and continuing on!)

And as always you’re free to read this story under the cut or over on my AO3! Enjoy!

word count: 2172

Usually Snow stayed in the cottage while the dwarves were at work in the mines. But today was just too lovely of a day to spend inside. The way the sun shined down through the trees and flowers made the whole forest look all the more lovely, she couldn’t resist. Doc and the others had warned her not to wander out lest she get lost or something fowl found her, but she reasoned that she wouldn’t travel far. Just out to the glen where a maze of streams cut through the woods. So after donning her cape, basket in hand and a slew of animals underfoot, she made her way off to the streams.

Along the way she wondered about what she could possibly do today. There were all sorts of flowers and berries that grew near the banks. Perhaps she could collect some flowers and arrange them into vase, bring some color back into the old cottage. Though she’d have to be careful not to pick anything that might make Sneezy have a bad reaction. And as for the berries, her mind had already gone to desserts. Maybe a pie? She could do a buttered, sugar-crust too. Or maybe she could make a cobbler? Or a crumble? What if she squeezed them into a juice? She could cook them down to a sauce, oh and then pair that with some roasted chicken!

When she realized her mouth was watering as she thought on all her possible recipes, she couldn’t help but laugh at herself. She wasn’t even at the glen yet and here she was planning a four-course dinner of berries she hadn’t picked yet! Always the silly songster, with her head stuck in the clouds! That’s who Snow White was, though she truly prided herself on being a good cook and enjoyed every step of the way.

Snow had always loved cooking, even before her father passed away. She remember being very small and wandering through the kitchens before dinner. Watching steam puff out of pots, new different smells coming from all around the room, sometimes the cooks would let her taste tiny spoonfuls of each dish. After her stepmother stripped her of her royal title and put her to work as a child, cooking was one of the few things she found gave her some joy. That, the birds, and singing. But her stepmother never complimented her cooking, never made a single comment about the dishes Snow served her. Most times she didn’t even look at Snow, like she didn’t exist. She was nothing like the Dwarves.

Each evening you would have thought the men hadn’t eaten in years the way they sighed and exclaimed and gushed over the food Snow White made. It had certainly been a surprise to her. She had thought her food had been subpar at best before when she only cooked for her stepmother and her own personal enjoyment. She took time to appreciate cooking even more now that she lived with much kinder and caring people.

Snow’s meandering thoughts of berries and family came to a cold halt though when she heard a lilting voice ring high through the trees. Someone was already in the glen. A stranger.

Not even thinking, she ran and hid. And when she did let herself think again it was all a panicked blur of words. Who was it? Or a worse idea yet, what was it? Grumpy always scarred her with rumors of her stepmother’s hand in the dark arts. What if it was stepmother? What if she had finally found her? Was this an awful trap? She couldn’t do this again! And now she was far from home and all alone. There was nowhere to hide. She felt like she might suffocate with how fast her heart was beating, she could hardly catch her breath. The sun disappeared, the woods sank into murky darkness. Faces grew out of the bark. Eyes glared down at her.

Then she heard a small chirp on her shoulder. It was the sweet, little baby blue bird. He looked up at her with sad worried eyes. When she looked around she realized all her animal friends were worried for her.

“I’m sorry my dears.” She said, still hiccupping to catch her breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you all. But I think it’s best if we go home for the day. We have no idea who might already be down in the glen. And I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Two fawns gently nudged at her arms, helping her to stand back up. Snow readjusted her dress and cape quietly. Peeking around the tree she’d fallen against, Snow tried to see what the stranger might look like. But she couldn’t see them, whoever they were. Too far away and too many trees and bushes hiding them from her. Only their voice carried out and a small choir of birds’ response. They may be a stranger, but not even Snow could deny they had a wonderful soprano voice. Clean and clear, like waterways themselves in the glen they sang in. Beautiful. Snow had to stop herself before she sang along with the voice, though she couldn’t resist humming a little harmony under her breath.

“Alright my friends, off we go.” She announced, ready to go home.

Till a flash of blue flew off her shoulders zooming out into the woods, towards the glen.

Her heart clenched, she couldn’t run too them, couldn’t run away. She couldn’t even find the voice to beg them to come back. She felt frozen. Oh dear, what if something terrible happened to her sweet little friend? What if the singing stranger wasn’t as kind or as sweet as their lovely voice?

She only felt herself breathe again, a sigh of relief, when she saw her little friend happily flying back. It seemed Little Blue had made some friends and they flew back together in a full flock of birds of every feather from robins and blue jays, to mocking birds, and even an owl. And not just birds, Snow realized, but squirrels and hares too, trailing along the ground under the flock.

As she watched them come back to her Snow could hear the stranger still singing. Snow swore she recognized the melody, though she couldn’t quite remember how.

When the pack approached her she smiled warmly to them all. “Why hello there! How do you do?” Snow said. There was a slight song in her voice though she still tried to speak in a hushed tone. “I don’t think we’ve seen each other before, but I’m delighted to meet you all!”

A few of their birds sang back to her and the Owl gave a hearty hoot, it almost sounded like laughter and Snow giggled back.

“Why, you all seem very sweet. What brings you all down to the glen today?”

They gestured back towards the streams, where the Stranger sang out from.

“Ah, the audience for this singing stranger! Are you friends with them?” They all nodded. “Please tell me dears, if you don’t mind. Is your singer…?” Kind? Friendly? Good? … Safe?

She wasn’t quite sure what to say, but it seemed the woodland creatures understood that. They all smiled to themselves. Then they all scampered a few feet away from her. The Owl gestured to her to follow with one of its large wings.

Follow them? Into the glen to meet a complete stranger? She looked around to all her animal friends. They seemed content to follow the others. Surely if they trusted these new friends, then she could as well?

So swallowing down that last of her fear and nervousness, she followed the flock of birds into the glen. A few of the squirrels and rabbits scampered around her feet, chittering excitedly to one another as they ran circles around her. Snow hoped this would be ok. She knew she could always trust the animals. They would never purposely hurt her or bring her to harm, they were innocent. Yet she felt so scared still. Following these critters to something unknown.

As she got closer, she could make out a dancing figure. They had a giant plume of thick golden hair trailing down well past her shoulder blades. They wore a simple black and grey dress that rose up into a ring whenever the stranger twirled. And when they sang again Snow could make out the words they sang and she felt her heart melt.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream~

I know you that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom what they seem.”

She knew this song, Snow knew she knew this song. A lullaby. A ballad of love. A sweet song tucked far back into her memory.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do-“

Before she could stop herself, she realized she was singing.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once

Upon a dream!”

The stranger had stopped singing. Stopped dancing. Frozen in place. Till she slowly turned around and saw Snow. Her eyes scared before she began to bolt in the other direction down towards the stream.

Oh dear! Snow realized that now she was the mysterious, possibly dangerous stranger lurking about the glen! It seemed like she always got these stranger twists of fate. Oh dear…

“Oh no! Please don’t run away! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Snow called out as she stepped out of the underbrush. The owl and birds were doing their laughing-chittering again. “It’s just, I was on my way to the rivers when I heard you singing! And I followed your friends here and I-Oh dear, I’m so sorry, oh dear…”

The stranger stopped just before she leapt over a brook. Instead they turned back around and looked at her accusingly with her arms crossed. “Who are you?”

“My name is Snow White.” Snow replied with a small curtsey. “I live deep in the woods, near the mountains. I- I came here to pick some berries and wildflowers you see!” Snow said gesturing to her wicker basket.

The stranger relaxed more upon the sight of an empty basket. Though she still looked at the other woman in confusion. “How did you know the song I was singing?”

“Oh, well I’ve heard it’s before.”

“Really? Where?”

Snow White smirked stepping a little closer towards the other. “You said so yourself! Once upon a dream!”

That made the stranger laugh, and she offered her hand to Snow. She grinned and took the hand. And together they danced in circles next to a stream. All while singing and laughing. Until they broke apart, grinning at one another. This was some of the most fun either girl had had in quite some time. All their animal friends watched from afar in the grass and trees, pleased as punch with their handiwork.

“My goodness! You have such a lovely voice!” Snow sighed. How she had been so afraid of this stranger before, she would never know. But her eyes widened in shock when she realized she still didn’t even know her name!

“Oh do forgive me! How could I be so rude? I never even asked you what you name might be!”

“Rose.” She said, pulling some of her golden long hair back over her shoulder. “Briar Rose.”

“Well Ms. Briar Rose, how do you do?” Snow said with a mock politeness, shaking Rose’s hand.

“I do very well, thank you.” She replied back, even her laugh sounded musical. But then her head snapped back and she looked back towards the woods where she came from. “Oh no! No, not now!”

“What is it?” Snow asked worried. Had she done something wrong?

“I have to go now! Goodbye!” She began racing towards the trees.

And before Snow could stop herself she chased after the other woman. “Wait! Please Rose! When can we meet again?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know!” Briar Rose called over her shoulder. She picked up her pace and leapt, completely clearing a stream and stumbling onto the other side. Snow watched in admiration though she was sad to see her leaving. But then just before Rose ran away, she stopped and looked back at Snow. “I live in a cottage! With my Aunts! Down in the Glade!”

“And I live near the mountains with a family of Dwarves! Just a ways past the swamp and marshlands!”

Briar Rose laughed, thinking Snow was telling a joke. “We’ll have to visit one another sometime. Goodbye, Snow White!”

“Gooday to you too, Briar Rose!” Snow waved back, until Rose disappeared from sight between the thick woods and over growth.

As she set off picking berries and collecting wildflowers, Snow caught herself humming that lovely melody. And she hoped she did see Rose again. Though she was certain the two would be singing, dancing and laughing again, at least in her dreams.

[dorkforty]

Art by Tom Kelly: https://tomkellyart.deviantart.com/gallery/

So it’s been a while since we did any Fantastic Four Re-Mix. A full year, in fact. What can I say? I hit a snag in the plot and let myself get tripped up on it. And I’ve always felt just slightly silly doing these things, anyway, so it seemed better to just wander off. But I re-read the earlier chapters recently, and realized that I liked them quite a bit. That lead me back in, and I had enough story left to tell that I decided to unsnarl my plot and keep going.

(And then, of course, they announced this week that they’re finally launching a new Fantastic Four book this summer. So I figured that, if I was going to finish this thing, I needed to go ahead and do it.)

But like I said… It’s been a while. So I suppose some explanations are in order. If this is your first time encountering the Fantastic Four Remix, for instance, I’m sure you have some questions…

WHAT IS IT? A far-more-complicated-than-I-imagined working-through of some ideas I had to relaunch the Fantastic Four from scratch, in the present-day.

WHY WOULD ANYONE DO SUCH A THING? Because I love the Fantastic Four. And since there hasn’t been an FF book in a while, I figured I might as well fill the gap.

WHY NOT JUST WRITE STORIES THEN, YOU FREAK? Because I had a lot of ground I wanted to cover, and wasn’t willing to devote that much time to writing characters I don’t own without getting paid for it. I love my readers, but I don’t love them THAT much.

IF YOU REALLY LOVED US, YOU’D WRITE MORE FUNNYBOOK REVIEWS! Piss off! I’m just having fun here, okay?! Gahd! Get off my back!

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. SO WHERE COULD I READ THE REST OF THIS NONSENSE? IF I WAS INTERESTED? WHICH I’M NOT. Nope. Sorry. Not gonna tell ya. You were rude.

OH FOR GOD’S SAKE! I’M SORRY, OKAY? I’D REALLY LIKE TO READ THEM. IF ONLY TO SEE HOW STUPID YOU ARE. Well… Okay. Previous chapters of the FF Remix can be found here:

https://dorkforty.wordpress.com/tag/fantastic-four-remix/

ALRIGHT, THEN! Alright!

Ahem. Sorry about that. These new readers can be SO touchy. For the rest of you, though…

WHAT HAS COME BEFORE: Oh, lots of stuff. I am nothing if not a complicated plotter. To really steep yourself in all the various details, you’d have to go back and read the whole thing. I’ll try to fill in background where I can, but here’s a rough overall picture to get you started:

Reed Richards put together a team for a mission to explore the Negative Zone: Ben Grimm (pilot)! Johnny Storm (mechanic)! Susan Storm (the journalist who tells their story to the world)! But upon arrival, they collided with an alien artifact and were bombarded with THE POWER COSMIC! This gave them their familiar powers as the Fantastic Four. They uncover a SECRET INVASION plot by the shape-shifting alien SKRULL, which is an on-going subplot. Reed’s friendly rival VICTOR VON DOOM hires the team to test his experimental TIME PLATFORM, and in the process, Ben becomes Blackbeard (dubbed THINGBEARD by Johnny)…

…an incident that’s still echoing through the story now. Doom is a continuing character in the Re-Mix, a villainous foil to the team, ala John Bryne’s Lex Luthor. He has an on-going scheme to wrest control of Latveria from the tyrannical regime that killed his gypsy family, and a growing suspicion that the FF represent a dangerous threat to mankind that must be eliminated. Likewise, PRINCE NAMOR the SUBMARINER is a continuing character, a noble-but-arrogant anti-hero type who has until recently been romancing Sue. As in the original story, he was discovered as a wandering amnesiac, who’d been missing since the end of World War II. But he’s since found lost Atlantis, saved it from the barbarian Attuma, and been rejected as their monarch (they adopted democracy in his absence). He’s currently serving as Atlantis’ ambassador to the UN, and is romantically entangled with the Lady Dorma.

Re-Mix Dorma is the former consort of Attuma, a fierce barbarian woman tossed aside in favor of “soft Atlantean women” when Attuma conquered Atlantis. She helped Namor defeat him, and has since been wrapped up in a quadrangle of sorts with Reed, Sue, and Namor (weird romance having become an unexpected theme of the Re-Mix). That’s all ended recently, and Reed and Sue are finally starting to look like they might get together after all (though throwing roadblocks in front of that inevitable relationship has been perversely pleasing, and I’m not quite done doing it yet).

But, Dorma. I’ve been struggling to find a decent image that matched the slightly unearthly look I wanted for her (and the Atlanteans in general), but here’s a Photoshop job I stumbled across recently that does a fair job of it. I couldn’t find reference to the artist, unfortunately. But the eyes are really striking, I think:

At any rate.

In recent issues, the Thing was captured by THE INHUMANS, who want to put him on trial for the murder of a crew of Inhuman scouts back during the THINGBEARD INCIDENT. That murder didn’t happen, however, so the rest of the team freed him, causing incredible strife within the Inhuman ruling class in the process, and then escaped from the SECRET CITY OF ATILLAN with the queen’s little sister CRYSTAL in tow. They were pursued by KARNAK and GORGON, but then there was a whole huge incident with the newly-awakened FIN FANG FOOM, and everybody teamed up to deal with it. In the aftermath, Karnak shook Ben’s hand… AND SPLIT HIM IN HALF WITH THE DEADLY ONE-INCH PUNCH! Quickly teleporting out with the aid of Lockjaw, Karnak informed the team that they were welcome to offer up a defense of Ben at his trial, in one week’s time. And that’s where we pick the story up now…

ARC FOURTEEN: THE TRIAL OF THE THING!

This will be a two-pronged arc, with one side giving a more realistic picture of Inhuman society as Crystal and Johnny return to Attilan to prepare for Ben’s trial, and the other following Reed and Sue as they search for evidence of what happened to the Inhuman scouts. But first…

PART ONE: INTERLUDE

After the all-out action of the last story arc, we take an issue to catch up with the supporting cast and our various subplots:

When last we saw Frankie Raye (Johnny Storm’s girlfriend/rival on the outlaw racing circuit)…

…she’d had a drunken make-out session with rival driver Tura. Frankie broke it off before things got too heavy, but she’s still a little shaken up by it. For one thing, she’s surprised at herself for showing such loyalty to Johnny. I mean, they’re just havin’ some fun, right? RIGHT? Hurm. Heading to the garage the next morning, she hopes to commiserate with her BFF/mechanic Wyatt Wingfoot, but instead walks in on him in the aftermath of a night of passion with Jean-Paul Valley, driver for the Northern Lights racing team (who, in another world, is the mutant super hero Northstar). This is primarily a comedic scene, but Frankie’s confusion and frustration plays off Johnny’s increasing infatuation with Crystal, setting up the inevitable triangle.

Meanwhile, Namor sponsors the Latverian rebels in their bid to be recognized by the UN. It’s a controversial choice, considering Namor’s attack on the country’s legal government alongside Latverian expatriate Dr. Doom. But Namor handles the situation with an uncharacteristic elegance, explaining that his attack is what first brought the rebels’ plight to his attention. “My actions were misguided, based on poor intelligence about a Latverian attack on Atlantis. But the Hammerfell government is tyrannical nonetheless. And just as we in Atlantis have learned to embrace democracy, I believe that the Latverian people deserve the same chance.”

Alicia Masters (blind sculptress, lady friend of the Thing, and possible Skrull) gets a visit from her father Phillip (aka the Puppet Master, a famous stage puppeteer, and a secret Skrull agent).

As he promised he would, Phillip asks Alicia if she’d have a word with the FF about making a public appearance with Gabriel (charismatic evangelist and anti-Skrull activist). Alicia looks suspicious (“Dad, what are you up to?!”), but he assures her it’s all on the up and up. “Nobody wants the Skrull off Earth more than me, honey. You know that.” The two of them exchange a meaningful look, but Alicia remains ill at ease.

Of course, WE know that Masters only met with Gabriel to give his psychoactive clay time to bond, so that he could make a puppet of the man, under orders from the Skrull high command. But Alicia evidently does not. How much she knows or doesn’t know is – hopefully – the subject of much reader speculation at this point.

We also get back to the mysterious Men in Black (who’ve been going around asking questions about the FF for purposes unknown). Somewhere in the American Midwest, the dark-haired Man in Black (the one who seems to disapprove of the team) approaches a tidy home in a small town. The name on the mailbox reads “Grimm.” A sturdily-built elderly woman answers the door. Tall, with steel-gray hair, she’s a handsome woman in spite of her age (think Big Barda as somebody’s grandma). She’s wearing a leather workman’s apron, with a pair of leather gloves tucked into the waist and a pair of safety goggles resting on her head. “Miss Petunia Grimm? I’d like to ask you some questions about your nephew…”

CUT back to Namor, relaxing in his chambers with Dorma after his speech. He expresses distaste with it. “Embracing Democracy,” it seems, is not really something he’s very interested in. Dorma (ever conniving) soothes him, reassuring him that the deception, though necessary for diplomacy, will only be temporary. “If Doom can really deliver on his promises, darling, you’ll be back on the throne again soon. And then you need never worry about lying again.” They kiss, but their embrace is interrupted by a call from Hong Kong. Namor’s annoyance turns to shock, however, when hears a voice he never thought he’d hear again: his cousin Namora, ruler of the Atlantean splinter city of Pacifica, and protector of the Pacific Rim!

(She was introduced in the Fin Fang Foom arc, but that’s wwaaayy too complicated to explain here.)

The issue closes on Dr. Doom, watching news coverage of Namor’s UN speech from multiple different international sources, to gauge world-wide reaction to his scheme. His phone rings (though a phone seems like an awfully prosaic device for Doom to be using – maybe it’s some kind of cell access built into his mask?). It’s his lawyers, telling him that his strategy for dealing with the charges against him for his part in Namor’s attack on Latveria (long story) has worked. There are a few details left to clean up, but it looks like he’ll walk away clean. Pleased, Doom turns to a computer screen and opens a document labeled “Time Drone Analytics: Latverian Overthrow Stage Two.” His reverie is interrupted, however, by an unexpected visit from Reed Richards and Susan Storm!

REED: “We need your Time Platform, Victor! Lives may depend on it!”

TO BE CONTINUED!!

TWO: HOMECOMING

This issue deals with Crystal and Johnny, returning to Attilan to prepare for the trial. Its events take place over the course of a week, as they get things in order and await Reed and Sue’s return, hopefully with evidence that will clear the Thing.

It’s an awkward homecoming for Crystal; when she fled the city with the FF, she flouted generations of cultural tradition, and abandoned her duty to Inhuman society, as well (she was betrothed to Triton, Lord of the Undersea, and Black Bolt’s only equal). If it weren’t for Karnak’s judgment of her moral superiority in the Fin Fang Foom incident, she might be tossed in a cell upon her return. But Karnak’s word holds much sway, and so she is tolerated, if not welcomed back with open arms. Her sister Medusa, in particular, treats her coldly.

Visual Note: I haven’t found many Inhumans redesigns I liked all that much, but here’s a Crystal design I stumbled across that I do like. It’s alien, but still attractive, and the pose gives her a bit more fire to boot:

It’s through these various conflicts that we gain a more balanced view of Inhuman society. Black Bolt is far from the tyrant he seemed in the first Inhumans arc. He actually rules wisely and justly, and is beloved by his people. Gorgon is revealed as a melancholy poet, rather than the brute he pretended to be in pursuit of the FF. And Karnak… His final attack on the Thing has filled him with guilt and (worse for a man of his station and abilities) doubt. He spends every minute in deep meditation, emerging only to tend Ben’s wounds.

Ben, for his part, is doing as well as can be expected. After the attack, he’s undergone a shocking physical change: his rocky outer shell having been split in half by Karnak, his body shed it like a crushed fingernail, revealing a soft “nail bed” beneath. His exposed flesh is reddish-orange and very sensitive to touch. Inhuman medicine has helped as much as possible, but he’s still obviously quite uncomfortable. He faces it with a surprising humor, however, and little of the self-pity that’s haunted him since his transformation. Over the course of the week, he endears himself to many in Attilan, and eventually confesses to Johnny that he feels comfortable there. “For once, I’m not the ugliest guy in the room.”

Part of Ben’s change stems from the time he spends with Karnak. He applies healing unguents to Ben’s sensitive flesh, his abilities allowing him to apply the medications with only the slightest discomfort. But he also teaches Ben some of his meditative techniques, teaching him how to mentally overcome the pain, and in the process, helps him find peace within himself. (Note: this is a good opportunity for some cool trippy visuals. Specifically, some of Ben’s meditations could be built around the patterns of the Thing’s rocky hide.)

Meanwhile, Medusa, Crystal, and Johnny travel with Lockjaw to contact and gather witnesses. Black Bolt (speaking, as always, through Medusa) places a strict limit on the number of outsiders allowed into Attilan, however, and vetoes any of Ben’s military buddies, arguing that agents of human governments would be beholden to reveal Attilan’s existence to their superiors. That leaves them with three options: Alicia Masters, Ben Baxter (builder/owner of the Baxter Building, and mentor to Reed), and (gathered at Ben’s suggestion) his Aunt Petunia. Alicia and Petunia come immediately, with the others agreeing to testify on the day of the trial.

We see Johnny and Crystal grow closer through all of this. His attraction is obvious, and he makes her laugh in a situation that’s otherwise very difficult for her. Triton (to whom Crystal is still technically betrothed) stands between them, making Johnny reluctant to act on his feelings. But Triton hasn’t been seen in the upper city since the confrontation in Black Bolt’s throne room, and Crystal hasn’t attempted to contact him. Her desire for freedom has only intensified since her Terrigenesis, her emotions coming more and more to mirror the tempestuousness of her elemental powers. Eventually, as the week is winding down, she makes the first move. They kiss… And are interrupted by Medusa.

In a cold fury, she informs them that, even though Reed and Sue have not returned, the trial will go on as scheduled. And Crystal has been assigned to speak for the defense.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

THREE: PLUNDER

So where the hell are Reed and Sue? The next two issues answer that question.

We open with the two of them, and Dr. Doom, preparing for a jaunt into THINGBEARD TIMES to discover the fate of the Inhuman pirates Ben is accused of murdering. They’re dressed in clothing appropriate to the era, with Doom in his more subdued “Phantom of the Opera” style mask (Re-Mix Doom has several different costume variations to suit various social situations), and a few subtle accouterments that function like his full armor, but at only a fraction of the full suit’s power level.

(I’m told these are props from one of the bad FF movies, but they give you the general idea.)

He’s also improved his Time Platform since the last time we saw it, moving on from the prototype to something more streamlined and easier to control. He’s agreed to let them use it, but only on the condition that he himself goes with them, to ensure that they do nothing to alter history… “this time.”

(In flashback, we see how Reed and Sue got from Hong Kong to New York so quickly: they hitched a ride with Aged Genghis, who transported them magically back to the Baxter Building. When they thank him for his aid, he just smiles a vacant smile and says, “Anything for Wise Grimm.” Then he disappears in a puff of smoke.)

And so they’re off! Reed has brought along a sensor device that he’s attuned to detect Terrigen energies, which he hopes to use to find the Inhuman ship and its cargo. But first, they need some idea of where to start looking. That trail begins with the historical Blackbeard, Edward Teach (who capitalized on the fear surrounding the Thingbeard Incident to take the name for himself). Teach has no idea where the Inhuman crew is, but he gives them the name of another pirate who might: Lord Plunder, who’s most likely to be found across the Atlantic along the Gold Coast of Africa.

(Plunder is, of course, a long-standing Marvel name. If you want to assume this guy’s an ancestor of Ka-Zar, I’m not gonna stop you.)

They find Plunder freshly-returned from a trip to the Savage Land, selling live velociraptors to the highest bidder. They attend the auction, hoping to use it as an in to get information out of Plunder. Reed places bids (much to Doom’s chagrin – that could alter history, after all). But luckily, he’s outbid by… THE BLACK PANTHER! This is our first glimpse of the Panther, an ancestor of the modern-day T’Challa (who we’ll see in a later arc). He uses the raptors to destroy a slave port and free some captured Wakandans. Our Heroes get swept up in that action, aiding the Panther, but being helpless to stop the carnage he unleashes in the attack. Once that’s resolved, Plunder tells them what he knows. He has done business with the Inhuman crew in the past, but last he knew, they were heading round the Cape of Good Hope and back up toward Singapore.

An aside: Among Plunder’s crew is a Savage Land native who bears a striking resemblance to Reed’s mother. Reed (who spent time in the Savage Land when his parents took him there as a child) speaks to her in her own language, asking about her heritage. She tells him that her grandparents came to the Savage Land mysteriously one day, and disappeared just as mysteriously when she was a child. And Reed, she says, looks a lot like her grandfather… (TO BE CONTINUED!!)

(Note: Other Marvel Comics pirates who could be in Plunder’s crew: Patience Drew (aka the Queen of Spiders) Jebediah Fate (an immortal) Long John McGurk (a stranded space alien) Raza Longknife (another stranded alien, posing as a Pacific Islander) Jim Spliny, Black Mike, Maura Hawke, Slug McCarthy, Fredric Falkon, Heinrich Von Grubb

Most of these would just be easter eggs, names assigned to various background characters. But since I crawled down an interweb rabbit hole to get them, I thought I should share.)

FOUR: SHIPWRECKED

Plunder’s information leads Our Heroes to the South Pacific, and the Terrigen detector leads them to the future Monster Island, where they find the Inhuman ship run aground. There’s no sign of life, or of the ship’s Terrigen cargo.

Reed, Sue, and Doom split up to search the island for clues. Reed heads immediately to the volcano at the island’s center, and confirms his suspicions: the Terrigen has already been dumped inside. Searching for the cave the team found in the last storyline, he also finds the dormant Fin Fang Foom slumbering in peace, the Terrigen’s mutagenic effects not yet birthing monsters from his flesh.

Doom, meanwhile, finds a survivor of the shipwreck in the jungle. He’s just finished covering up a mass grave, in which he’s buried the bodies of his fellow crewmen. Delirious and half-crazed, he tells Doom the story of how the ship came to be there. They were caught up in a vicious storm, the worst any of them had ever seen. Conditions were so bad that communications with Attilan became impossible, and they feared they might be lost at sea. Struggling to keep afloat, they were then set upon by an armored warrior who came out of the storm itself and slaughtered everyone. This lone survivor lived only because he was pulled overboard during the attack, and brought to the island. He was delirious through much of the experience, but he claims that his benefactor was the man who helped them retrieve the Terrigen cargo in America: Benjamin J. Grimm, the man they dubbed Blackbeard!

Because, again, I can’t post this picture enough.

Elsewhere, Sue explores the wreck of the ship. Using her ability to make other things invisible, she looks around for secret compartments, or even just things they might have overlooked on their quick initial search. After poking around a bit, she finds the ship’s log tucked away in the captain’s quarters. It confirms the FF’s departure (Reed coming off far worse than Ben), then reveals the same story just told to Doom, but (crucially) ending before the arrival of the armored warrior. She finds a knapsack among the captain’s gear, puts the book in it, and is about to leave, but stops when she hears something. Turning toward what appears to be an ordinary part of the ship’s hull, she reaches out to make it invisible. We don’t see what’s inside, but she gasps as we…

CUT to the jungle, where Doom pumps the pirate for more information. But, exhausted from his exertions and nearly dead from exposure, he instead collapses into Doom’s arms. Doom lowers him to the ground and, holding him in a soothing manner, calmly snaps the pirate’s neck.

CUT back to Sue as she exits the ship, carrying the knapsack, but nothing else. She seems pensive, but none the worse for wear. Reed’s arriving on the beach at the same time, and, brandishing the bag, Sue tells him that she thinks she’s found what they need to clear Ben. Doom, however, is nowhere to be found.

CUT to Doom, emerging from the Time Platform back in his Time Lab in the present. Stepping calmly to a computer console, he begins reviewing records of previous time jaunts, revealing that he was the one who killed the Inhuman crew! He was positive, in fact, that he’d gotten them all. But his review of the tapes reveals something he’d missed in the heat of the battle: a scaly orange hand pulling one cowering pirate overboard, and away from Doom’s wrath.

“Grimm,” he says. “Obviously more resourceful than I gave him credit for.”

He pauses, thinking. Weighing his options. Then he goes over to the Time Platform control panel, and cuts the tether to Reed and Sue.

CUT to the two of them on the beach, at the exact moment we last saw them. Suddenly, they’re ripped out of spacetime, screaming in a psychedelic void.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

FIVE: MADNESS

A Few Words on Inhuman Justice: In a society that regularly spawns psychics and empaths, it strikes me that trials would work a bit differently. The truth of any testimony could be determined on the spot. But because memory is faulty, truth is relative. Two different people can testify to the same events, tell different stories, and both be truthful according to how they remember things happening. So the Inhumans depend on something I’m calling “Psychic Forensics.” A jury of psychic sensitives listens to testimony from as large a pool of witnesses as possible, and collates all the various stories into one narrative that’s then accepted as truth. Hard evidence trumps this, of course, and the arguments of the prosecution and defense can help shape these narratives, as well. But in a case like Ben’s, where there is no hard evidence due to the great length of time that’s passed, testimonial truth is enough to convict.

That would seem to make this a simple matter, then. Both Ben and Johnny were there when Reed forcibly removed Ben from the Inhuman ship, when the crew was still very much alive. But things are more complicated than they appear…

(Storytelling Note: We get varying degrees of detail on all testimony, seeing it filtered through the lens of the psychic jury. This allows for some trippy visuals (always a good thing), but also for us to avoid going into too much detail about things the reader already knows. So it’s conveyed through snippets of dialogue, flashback, and warped, hazy remembrances shaded by each speaker’s own perspective.)

The trial begins at dawn. Black Bolt serves as judge, with Medusa as prosecutor, and Crystal on defense. Karnak sits at the head of the jury, vigilant for flaws in their understanding of events. The prosecution goes first, establishing their case against the accused, leaving the defense to argue against once the case has been laid out.

Medusa opens by calling Ben and Johnny to the stand. They testify to their leaving the ship, and are found to be telling the truth. But Medusa seems unperturbed, and presses on to establish Ben’s history of violence, arguing that he is not always in his right mind, or in complete control of his own actions.

Petunia fills in some childhood background on Ben. She raised him from around age 10, when his parents were killed in a car accident. Young Ben struggled with depression and anger throughout his adolescence, constantly getting into fights and becoming increasingly aggressive before finally finding an outlet for it in football. Johnny and Bob Baxter pick up the narrative with the Breach Craft team, and Ben’s history as The Thing, with Medusa emphasizing his erratic behavior throughout.

She finishes this line of questioning with Ben’s most recent rampage, when he was (unknown to anyone) under the control of the Puppet Master. Ben himself testifies to that incident, and his memory of it is fractured and hazy. He remembers only parts of it, and in those memories he’s like a spectator to his own actions, watching impassively while his body does things of its own accord.

We give special focus to Karnak during this testimony. Something is troubling him, but he’s not quite sure what. Everyone else, though, is shaken. The team’s been buffeted from adventure to adventure so much since this last rampage that none of them have taken time to really think about it. But when it’s laid out like this… There’s clearly something wrong with him. Even Ben himself starts to wonder if he’s too unstable to be allowed to roam free.

Her argument having been rather convincingly made, Medusa then closes the first day of the trial by lowering the boom: her ally Victor Von Doom (who, like Reed and Sue, is unavailable for testimony) has given her Time Drone video footage, which she shows to the court. It mirrors that of the footage we saw at the end of last issue, with the Inhuman ship in the midst of a terrible storm. But instead of Doom slaughtering the crew, it’s Ben!

This, Medusa argues, is incontrovertible proof. Not that Ben killed their scouts during the Thingbeard Incident, but that he WILL do so, in some future time jaunt rampage that’s yet to happen. The question before the court, then, is not one of guilt or innocence. It’s whether they will execute him for crimes he has yet to commit, or prevent him from committing them in the first place, by simply imprisoning him in Attilan… forever!

SIX: REVELATIONS

We pick up the night after Medusa’s devastating prosecution argument. The first day of the trial has ended with things not looking good for Ben. Alicia tries to comfort him, but he’s fallen into despair. He no longer trusts his own sanity, and tells her to leave. “I might hurt ya, baby, and not even know it. So scram. Get outta here. Go back to New York and forget you ever knew me.” But she’s not having any of it. She knew the risk when she started dating him, and honestly kind of likes it. “So you don’t get to push me away, you big orange bastard. Not over this.”

CUT to Crystal’s chambers. Medusa comes for a visit, and they have it out over Crystal’s abandonment of her duty to Attilan (and Triton) over what Medusa calls “lust for a pretty young human boy.” Crystal bristles at that (visual note: her elemental powers flare up around her dramatically when she gets mad), but ultimately Medusa’s concern is well-intended. She doesn’t want to see her sister become an outcast because of a youthful indiscretion. They part on better terms, but Crystal is left confused and upset. She doesn’t want to marry Triton, but should she really throw her lot in with a bunch of outsiders because of that? She worries about her sympathies in her upcoming defense, as we…

CUT to Karnak, deep in meditation once again, replaying Ben’s testimony in his head with the aid of an elderly Inhuman named RANDAC the ORACLE, an experienced and highly-skilled psychic. Karnak doesn’t believe that Ben was lying, but he noticed something, and its exact nature escaped him. But now, with Randac’s aid, he spots it: a flash of something, just as Ben is talking about blacking out in advance of his last rampage.

Visual note: the “flash” could be expressed as a very narrow panel, showing a sliver of whatever it is he gets the impression of, but not enough to identify it. They continue working to uncover it, through the night and all the way until…

DAWN! Though Karnak has sent word that he is unable to serve with the jury, the trial continues, and Crystal begins her defense. She starts by casting doubt on Doom’s video. Johnny testifies to the bad intelligence Doom gave Namor (which caused Namor’s ill-advised attack on Latveria), and Baxter reveals Doom’s threat to “deal with” the FF if he ever deemed them too dangerous to live. “Without this man here to submit to questioning, the truth of his work can’t be confirmed! So can we really condemn Benjamin Grimm to death for a crime that even the prosecution admits he has not yet committed?”

CUT to Karnak, zeroing in, the narrow flash panel getting wider… wider… but still not wide enough.

BACK to the courtroom! Crystal cites Ben’s many acts of heroism, and explains the torment his transformation has caused him (something the Inhumans, whose entire culture is built around such transformations, don’t really understand at all). Johnny and Bob Baxter act as character witnesses, guided now to discuss Ben’s positive qualities. They admit to Ben’s instability, but stress the great good he’s done, and can still do. This terrible future – if that video does, indeed, show the future – can still be averted with the support of friends and advisors, and a woman who loves him.

That’s Alicia’s cue to take the stand, and she gives eloquent testimony to Ben’s heroic soul. Even Medusa seems moved by it. In the background, we see an Inhuman court official conducting a genetic scan on her (as he’s done for every other witness), looking first puzzled, and eventually alarmed. Just as she finishes her speech, the Gene Lord leaps to his feet, and makes a shocking proclamation: “THIS WOMAN IS A SKRULL!”

CUT to Karnak. Finally, something clicks, and the flash panel stands fully revealed: it’s Alicia’s first statue of Ben!

BACK to the courtroom! Alicia tells her story. Sent to Earth as a far advance scout decades ago, Phillip Masters (the Puppet Master) settled, married a human woman, and gave birth to a daughter: Alicia herself. Her parents kept her father’s true nature from her until she hit puberty, when her Skrull genes began to manifest. Full shape-shifting isn’t possible for her, but she can slightly alter her form by shifting mass from one part of her body to another. It’s useful for retrieving things she’s dropped into tight spaces (and for her love life with Ben), but otherwise it’s not something she even thinks about very much. As far as she’s concerned, she’s human.

She knows nothing of the Skrull beyond that. As far as she knows, her father severed ties with his people after she was born, and hasn’t worked for them since. She doesn’t know the details, but he’s told her not to worry. His loyalty lies with her, and her loyalty lies with Earth. The jury verifies the truth of her statements, but the revelation still unsettles the courtroom. Alicia looks plaintively at Ben, but his expression is impossible to read.

Black Bolt signals for a recess, but before court can adjourn, there’s a flash of energy as a portal opens in the center of the room. Out of it step an elderly Reed Richards and Susan Storm, dressed in primitive tribal garb, and seeming to have aged 40 years since their departure. With them is a strange young woman, tall and thin, with pale green skin and bulbous black eyes. Reed is holding a device that looks like a modified version of one of Doom’s Time Platform remotes. He turns a dial on it, then looks around and smiles. “We made it, Sue! We finally made it!”

The portal collapses behind them, and Sue steps forward, holding the knapsack she collected from the Inhuman pirate ship. “Lord Black Bolt. We apologize for our tardiness. There were… difficulties on the road. But we have important information for the court!”

TO BE CONTINUED!!

And that, believe it or not, concludes The Trial of the Thing. Yes, there are still issues to be resolved. But the story goes somewhere else for a while first, so that’s what we’ll deal with next time. For now, though, all we’re left with are…

ARC FOURTEEN NOTES

The long break between posts masks this somewhat, but I’m slightly concerned that I may be giving the audience “adventure fatigue.” I very much wanted to emulate the great Steve Ditko Dr. Strange run through this part of the Re-Mix, with its string of endless cliffhangers, new creations, and excitement. But readers eventually need an ending, and we’re now roughly 26 issues into never-ending adventure. Seriously. We’ve gone from the introduction of the Frightful Four (6 issues) to the introduction of the Inhumans (6 issues) to Fin Fang Foom (8 issues) to the trial (6 issues), with each arc rolling right into the next, and the only true resolution being the defeat of Foom.

Even I’m getting tired at this point, which may be an additional reason I stalled out on the series last year. So I think it may be time to wrap things up a bit. I still have a good bit of story left to tell before I’m done with my ideas for the Re-Mix, but it might be wise to have some clear beginning-middle-and-end arcs before we launch off into the grand finale.

(An aside: I just went back and did a rough issue count for the Re-Mix to date. This arc takes us up to issue 82! Insanity! I had originally thought this might take around 100 issues total, but I’ve got enough for another 50, easy. More, if I explore a few half-formed side concepts along the way. Hmm. Maybe I should go for 200 instead. Hmm…)

One last thing: In re-reading the previous installments of this series, I became acutely aware that I haven’t focused enough on Sue. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s our narrator, so we’re getting her perspective on everything as we go. But I had this idea at the outset that she would become more self-confident as time went on, and that her powers would grow accordingly. But she doesn’t even have her force fields yet! So I need to give her some attention. And soon.

But speaking of the future…

In Our Next Exciting Episode: Adventures in Time and Introspection! Past Peace and Future War! Politics! Wakanda! Plus… INFINITE THINGBEARD!

Fantastic Four Re-Mix, Part Seven: The Trial of the Thing! So it's been a while since we did any Fantastic Four Re-Mix. A full year, in fact.