#thank you to maggie to who convinced me to just go ahead and post this

[katia-dreamer]

So, today for flufftober, the prompt was 20 questions or Truth or Dare. I chose a somewhat similar drinking game. Yes, this is finally THAT fic. ;) Word Count: 505

"Scanlan, have you ever-" Keyleth begins, but Scanlan drinks his ale before she can finish.

"I've done a lot of things, Keyleth. A lot of things," Scanlan boasts.

Vox Machina bursts into laughter, and Vex swivels so far back on her chair that she almost tips off. She's done quite a bit of drinking this evening, but her reaction time is still quick enough to catch herself. Percy chuckles next to her, and she purposefully ignores it.

"It's my turn to ask a question." Scanlan looks around the table, searching for his victim, and settles on Percy. "Percy?"

"Yes?"

Scanlan's responding grin is almost frightening. He leans forward and asks, "Have you ever had dirty thoughts about someone in Vox Machina?"

Vex chokes even though she's not currently drinking anything. Everyone falls silent as they wait for Percy's answer. He was very private about this area of his life, often choosing not to engage in discussions or answer questions. After a few moments pass, she wonders if he might back down.

Then Percy blinks, raises his glass of wine to his lips, and takes a drink. When he looks back at Scanlan, his face is almost unreadable.

"Was it me?" Scanlan asks.

"I don't have to answer that," Percy's tone is calm and collected, but she can see his ears are turning pink.

"Don't be embarrassed, Percy. I am very handsome."

"It's not you."

"Wait," Scanlan pauses, "does that mean you still have them?"

Percy doesn't answer, which is an answer in itself.

Who is it? The question burns on her tongue like fire. Because she is more than a little curious to know who Percy thought of in the dark of the night when he was full of want and longing. But Percy's fingers drum on the table, drawing her attention to his stiff posture and the tightness in his shoulders.

"Scanlan, you asked your question, and Percy answered it. So, Percy, it's your turn."

"I cede my question to you, Vex'ahlia. I'm going to bed." He stands from his seat, brushes down the front of his coat, and leaves without further comment.

A few faces around the table wear identical expressions of shock. But there is a look of mischief in Scanlan's eyes. Before he can act on it, Vex asks the first question that comes to mind, "Vax, have you ever lost one of your daggers?"

Vax raises an eyebrow at her but takes a drink. Once everyone is distracted, Vex looks for Percy. She catches only a glimpse of him turning down the hallway to their rooms. Her companions are laughing now, but Vex's thoughts are on one thing and one thing only.

Was Percy thinking about someone right now? Was he imagining exploring skin with his mouth and hands? Was his heart racing, his skin flushing? The idea of it awakens something hot and tight in her abdomen.

She gulps down the rest of her ale to drown it out, but to her horror, that only adds to the burn.

[isthisthingeven0n]

starting over, with you : s.r

after everything you went through with spencer, life decided to give you another shot. and this time, neither of you took the opportunity for granted. (3.5K)

we’re finally here, the epilogue to this little series. thank you for reading and supporting it. i hope you like the ending as much as i enjoyed writing it. 

knowing you / forgetting you / remembering you / with or without you / starting over, with you 

“She truly is just wonderful,” Maggie happily sighs as she rests her head in her hands, staring out dreamingly to the front door whilst you clean the spout of the steamer. “what did I do to find someone so just,” Maggie trails off and you quickly notice from the corner of your eye her standing up straighter.

Following her line of vision, you clear your throat as the woman in question walks in. Her blonde hair flows behind her shoulders as she slips her jacket off, resting it over her tote bag.

“Hey, sunshine.” She beams to Maggie who suddenly has lost the ability to speak. “Hey, Y/n.” She waves over to you as Maggie chuckles under her breath nervously.

Moving to stand beside Maggie, you nudge her playfully. “Use your words Mags,” You mutter.

“Yeah, I know that,” Maggie retorts as she focuses on the woman she’s been seeing, Delilah, for the past few weeks. “what can I get for you, D?”

Raising your eyebrows, you just catch the smirk on Maggie’s lips before you busy yourself once again, not wanting to get involved.

Slipping aside from the counter you pick up two plates and the muffin you kept from this morning. “So, this is the girl then?” Sitting down opposite him, you can’t help but smile at the excitement in his gaze as he focuses on you.

“That’s Delilah,” You tell him, passing him a plate as you split the muffin in half. “you were in such a rush this morning I thought I’d keep this as a treat when you finished.”

Smiling brightly at the muffin in front of him, he shifts for a moment before taking a bite. “Nothing beats your blueberry muffins. Did you know that blueberries are filled with antioxidants and phytoflavinoids. They’re a top choice for doctors and nutritionists as they also contain high levels of potassium and vitamin c.”

Chuckling under your breath, you poke your half of the muffin with your knife. “I don’t think it counts as much once they’ve been baked though, Spence.” You state, glancing up as Spencer chews another piece of muffin, his eyes not leaving yours.

“True, but you’re a benefit of these muffins too.” Spencer mutters, tearing his eyes from you as your lips part, humour filling the space around you.

“Did you just try and use a line on me?” You remark as Spencer shakes his head profusely. “Because if so, it was shocking.”

Spencer shyly smiles up at you as a small laugh leaves his lips. “Well, something worked clearly.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his just as Maggie rushes over to you.

“Sorry to interrupt lovebirds, but we’re out of pumpkin spice syrup.” Maggie sighs heavily, focusing on you with endless apologies in written across her expression.

Taking your hand from Spencer’s, you rise to your feet. “If you’re gone before I get back, I’ll meet you at mine?” You ask as you rest your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait, Y/n.” Spencer tells you as he turns his head, kissing your hand gently before you follow behind Maggie. “Don’t you worry.”

*

You could already see kids rushing around in various costumes as parents ran frantically behind them. Giggles of excitement and evident sugar rushes fill the air as brown and orange leaves coat the ground.

Leaning behind the counter the all-consuming scents of cinnamon, hazelnut and pumpkin spice filled your nostrils, acquainted by the occasional breeze of fresh air whenever a customer entered or departed.

Halloween always came around too quickly as you busied yourself with seasonal treats and limited edition beverages that brought new customers in every year. Yet, this year it was different. Usually, you’d spend the holiday working through the evening and spend time with Gary or your friends. It was always a quieter holiday compared to others, but this year things weren’t going to be the same.

“Come on, you have to tell me what your costume is.” Maggie practically begs you as you shake your head once again.

“It’s a secret, Mags.” You remind her for the twelfth time this week. “Besides, Spencer picked it out.”

A loud groan escapes Maggie's lips as you glance over your shoulder as she crosses her arms. “That means it’s going to be all nerdy and not slutty.” She rolls her eyes, watching as you nod along, knowing it’s true.

“There’s some slutty element to it.” You shrug a shoulder, trying to convince yourself moreso than Maggie. “I personally love it,” You comment under your breath before returning to work in the hope of distracting your mind a bit longer.

“Are you nervous at all?” Gary emerges from the far side of the cafe, his left arm still trembling as he grips onto a tray tightly.

Looking between them both, you roll your eyes. “You two trying to push my buttons tonight?” You feign anger as Gary shakes his head whilst Maggie nods. “Of course I’m nervous, I’m shitting myself!” A laugh escapes your lips involuntarily as you lean against the counter with your back turned to the entrance. “This is my chance to make a good impression on the people who pretty much watched me for months whilst Spencer was,” You trail off, it’s still something you both struggle to openly discuss.

Maggie’s eyes dart over to the open doorway, Spencer standing proudly as he removes his purple scarf, his wild curls fluffing up outwards. “Y/n,” Maggie tries to interrupt, but you carry on regardless.

“It’s just, I really care about him, I, I think I might be in love with him.” You finish as a light sound follows as a smile graces your lips.

Biting his lower lip, Spencer steps forward whilst you remain oblivious to his presence. “I always thought I’d be the first to say it,” Spencer can’t help himself as you whip your head around like a deer caught in headlights. “shall we Miss Y/L/N?”

Stuttering silently as you focus on his hazel eyes, you feel a gentle nudge from Maggie as you mumble in agreement.

“Wow, this isn’t at all awkward.” Maggie jokes, causing Gary to give her a fatherly look as you move out from the counter, removing your apron and throw it back in Maggie’s general direction.

“Yes,” The word barely leaves your lips as you walk closer toward him, taking his hand as he guides you towards the exit.

Quickly you glance over your shoulder, receiving thumbs up from both Maggie and Gary before you step out into the Autumnal breeze, wishing you had brought another layer with you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Spencer asks as he struggles to hide his smile, but he can sense your worries as you focus on the browning leaves as you shuffle down the street.

“I didn’t intend on you hearing that,” You admit shyly as Spencer’s grip on your hand loosens. “I mean, sorry, that sounds dreadful.” You force a laugh, looking up as Spencer keeps his eyes fixated on the street ahead, knowing there are two hundred more steps to take until you reach your car around the corner beside the lamp post with the missing cat poster that’s faded entirely.

“It’s okay.” Spencer mutters, but it doesn’t take a profiler to know he doesn’t mean it.

Pausing, you take a hold of his arm, causing Spencer to turn around as his long legs guide him back to face you.

“It’s not okay, Spencer.” You huff as you sigh into your hands, oblivious to the loving way Spencer is looking at you. Despite having barely made it back in time for Halloween and sleeping on the jet, Spencer couldn’t have been happier to walk in at that precise moment.

Taking your hands from your face, Spencer brushes his fingers across your cheek. “It is, Y/n.” He hushes you, his hand now cupping your cheek. “Because I think, no, I know that I am in love with you too.”

“Wait, you do?” Your immediate reaction is to deny it, but as Spencer dips his head closer towards yours and his lips brush against your skin, you listen to him mutter a simple yes before kissing you affectionately.

Leaning into his embrace, you deepen the kiss, only breaking as the sound of children giggling increases from down the street.

“Ew, they’re kissing!” One child calls out and you shyly bury your face into Spencer’s chest, hiding behind his scarf as you feel the vibrations of his laughter.

His hand rises to rest on your back. “They’re gone, Y/n.” Spencer mutters to you as you step backwards, trying to suppress the heat rising through your body as you carry on walking to your car as if nothing had happened.

*

“Oh my god,” Penelope squeals as she opens her front door, clad in pumpkin dress with her mouth ajar as you stand besides Spencer who is unable to stop his smile from growing. “you look amazing!”

Looking up at Spencer you can’t help but laugh as butterflies flutter around in your stomach, even after all this time he still can muster this effect on you.

You have to admit, despite your initial uncertainties about the costumes Spencer suggested they have turned out better than you envisioned.

“And Y/n, you look well,” Penelope stumbles over her words as she brings you into a tight hug. “and I, I want to apologise about well,” She looks up to Spencer and back to you.

“It’s all good, Penelope.” You tell her as she reaches for your hand, her eyes softening. “I should thank you really, I mean, without you I don’t think we’d be here.” You admit as Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, and it’s enough for Penelope to lose her mind as she sighs happily.

“Come on in lovebirds, god.” She huffs as you both walk in and pause as several pairs of eyes greet you.

“I have to say, it’s hard to find profilers intimidating when they’re all dressed up for a Halloween party.” You admit, and Spencer chuckles, nodding along as he pushes his goggles further up from his forehead.

The first to step forward is a blonde woman wearing a Super Woman costume. “Hi, I’m-”

“JJ?” You ask as she nods, glancing up to Spencer as your smile brightens. “I’ve heard so much about you! Well, I’ve heard a lot about everyone, but you’re Henry’s Mom!” You happily tell JJ who warms to you instantly, having only ever seen footage of you previously down in the dumps and unsure of everything.

Instantly, you are swept away by the women of the BAU, leaving Spencer watching in awe as Luke pats his shoulder. “You really got her to agree to this?” Luke motions to Spencer’s outfit.

“It was the first movie we watched together,” Spencer states. “and she makes a cute Marty.” Spencer half-smiles as he lip-reads your conversation with Emily and JJ.

“He really got you to dress as Marty Mcfly?” Emily chuckles into her drink as you nod along, taking a sip of the concoction Penelope created before everyone arrived.

“I’m not sure if I like it or if it’s the number of chemicals I’ve inhaled making Spencer’s hair white with dry shampoo.” You joke, and the sound of laughter spreads through the group as you glance over your shoulder, watching as Spencer is sat with Rossi and Luke, flashing you a reassuring smile.

“Gives you an idea on how he’ll look in the future.” Penelope nudges you, and JJ rolls her eyes.

“A mad scientist sounds about right.” You nod in agreement. “So, what’s it like, on the field? Spencer only tells me so much, but I’d love to hear more from you guys.”

Rossi interrupts your conversation shortly after Emily explained the latest mission and how she managed to get the cut across her forehead which conveniently was covered by her fringe.

“May I?” Rossi asks as he holds out a glass of wine to you, which you gladly accept.

Walking with Rossi, you follow him into the kitchen as you lean against the counter, feeling somewhat at home here as the music plays faintly in Penelope’s living room.

“You know, when Spencer was inside I heard your name mentioned countless times.” Rossi begins.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” You force yourself to joke, and Rossi senses the change in your stance as you hide your left hand in the pocket of your bodywarmer, picking at the tissue buried inside.

Rossi shakes his head. “No need to apologise. It’s never an easy thing to talk about, but we both know Reid well enough to know he can talk for days about anything and everything, but often miss the most important thing.”

You nod along with Rossi as you take a sip of your drink as a temporary distraction.

“Do you talk about it? What happened when Spencer was inside?” Rossi delves deeper, knowing the answer before you shake your head. “Something changed in him, but what didn’t change was his determination paired with his intelligence and though he can be an ass about it, he often is right about things.” Rossi chuckles to himself. “I listened to everyone talking about this girl in a cafe for months before Spencer went away, waiting for him to make a move.”

Listening intently, these were details no one had ever shared. This was the perspective you were missing in your story.

“Penelope offered countless times to march in and talk to you, but an old friend, Morgan, refused to let that happen.” Rossi sighs, remembering it like it were yesterday. “And he told us on the flight back to Quantico that he was going to see if you were open that evening and ask you on a date.” Rossi trails off, not needing to fill you in on the rest of the story.

“And he did.” You finish. “What was it like, knowing he was in there all that time?”

Your eyes follow Rossi’s as he looks out into the living room where Spencer is lost in conversation with JJ. “Difficult, knowing he was in there for something he wouldn’t have ever done. We all worked tirelessly, trying to find a way to get him out.” Rossi explains as he places his glass down on the counter, finding a spot amongst Penelope’s various trinkets. “Do you wish you knew? If you could go back?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” You huff as you finish the last of your wine. “I don’t think I would, no.” You reason, thinking back on the heartache you went through, the unknown reason Spencer never called you. “It hurt, and I think everyone here knows that firsthand, but I don’t think I would’ve forgiven him if I knew without the full story that was to follow.”

A smile forms on Rossi’s face as he steps forward and kisses both your cheeks. “I can see why he’s so fond of you.” He pats your arm, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment before you step out, resuming the evening with everyone.

*

Hearty laughter echoes throughout the apartment as the hours roll on. Children have long gone home and have dealt with their sugar crashes as the adults roam the streets in search of a very different kind of candy.

Leaning against Penelope’s balcony, you welcome the fresh air as you run your fingers through your hair, thankful for the warmth the costume provides unlike the girls below.

The sound of the door opening and closing catches your attention as Spencer stands beside you, his arms resting on the railing as he looks out at the city below and the drunken chatter climbing up the walls of buildings.

“Did you know Halloween is one of the more dangerous holidays?” Spencer asks, and you raise a brow to him as his smile widens before he carries on. “Between 2009 and 2013 the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reported 40% of deaths were caused by drivers who were intoxicated from 7 pm to around 1 am.”

“Cheerful, Spence.” You mutter as a chill spreads through you once more.

“Here,” Spencer speaks up, wrapping his arm around you as he kisses the top of your head as you watch girls stumble over their heels as they yell for one another. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Glancing up to Spencer, you push his goggles further up onto his partially white hair. “Oh yeah?” You tease, something you can’t help but do as Spencer nods.

Spencer watches as you rest your head against his shoulder, your thoughts clearly elsewhere as you hum contently.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Interrupting your daydreams, you straighten up.

“When did you know that you loved me?” You ask the question that’s been circling in your thoughts all evening.

Pausing for a moment, Spencer turns to face you, his eyes darting over to the balcony doors as everyone remains occupied.

“Truthfully, Y/n,” Spencer starts as he exhales shakily, something you weren’t anticipating. “the night you came over and wanted to give us a go.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that night was filled with mixed emotions.

* that night *

You weren’t sure how your feet had guided you to his front door, but here you were.

Crumbling the piece of paper back into your pocket, you force back any worries as you knock on his front door and step back, preparing yourself to turn back and run if necessary.

Yet, the door swung open, revealing Spencer in comfortable attire as he tiredly rubs his eyes before focusing on the figure before him.

“Y/n?” He mutters, shocked to see you after how you dismissed him days prior. “What’re you doing here? I mean, how did you get my,”

“Penelope.” You tell him, cutting him off as he nods, who else could it have been?

Silence settles over you both as neither of you are sure what to say. On your drive over, you had a vague plan in place, an idea of what you want to say. Yet, standing in front of Spencer up close, the stubble lining his jaw and above his lip, you were lost for words all over again.

“Would you like to come in?” Spencer steps aside from his front door, revealing his slightly messy apartment as books are scattered across the floor.

“Okay.” You force confidence to strive through your voice as you step inside, your eyes wandering over his vast library as the front door closes behind you. “What I said the other night,”

“Was perfectly valid.” Spencer comments, holding his hands up before resting them in his pockets.

You suppress your sigh as you focus on anything but him and your eyes lock on a beaten copy of a book in front of your feet, ‘The Narrative of John Smith.’  

“I heard you, but I wasn’t truly listening. I mean, it was a lot to take on board.” A short laugh leaves your lips as Spencer nods. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to hear about it, all of it.”

Lifting your head up, you see Spencer focusing on you with a perplexed look crossing his gaze. “But, why? You made it clear that night that you didn’t want to see me again.” Spencer reasons, fighting against his heart as it yells for him to shut up.

“I don’t know.” You admit, lifting your arms up as you sigh. “I just, for peace of mind, please? I waited three months to hear from you, and now I have I, I don’t want to just let it go.”

Stepping closer, Spencer hesitantly reaches out for your hand and squeezes it lightly. “Okay.” He whispers before guiding you to his sofa. “Well, I guess I’ll start after you drove off.”

*

Looking in awe at your boyfriend, you can’t help but notice how he retreats into himself after his statement.

“I just knew if you were willing to give me a chance after all of that, after listening to my story I wasn’t just interested in you, Y/n. I knew I loved you.” Spencer tells you as you nudge closer into his embrace, rising on your tiptoes.

“Want to know a secret, Spence?” You whisper into his lips. “I knew I loved you the moment you opened the door.” You chuckle, closing the distance between your lips as you kiss him, only to be interrupted as the doors slide open.

“Love birds, come on we’re about to play say it or shot it!” Penelope calls out as Spencer’s cheeks burn up and his goggles fall down onto his face.

Chuckling to yourself you force his goggles back up. “Shall we?” You ask, stepping forward as Spencer nods, taking your hand and following you back inside to join everyone else.

We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies. - Martin Luther King Jr. 

The end. 

TAGLIST (for this mini series) : 

@koc-help​ @bellomi-clarke​ @castbyfox​ @http-cherries​ @easygoingtheatre​ @tomorrowmeansoportunities​ @rainsong01​ @rexorangecouny​ @radtwinkie @eldahae @l0ve-0f-my-life​

[scavengerfive]

An Ornament Hung

Another year, another Abel Secret Santa fic. I went a bit overboard with this one, but I hope @when-sanpape-arts enjoys their Secret Santa gift. Sam wasn’t the best beta last time, so I got Maggie and Rajit to help me this year. Still, without any good proofreading softwares on Rofflenet, there was only so much we could do.

I would like to thank @runnerzero, @notforconsumption, and @goblinsharkz for putting all of this together and posting it on the Noticeboard (did Janine clear it?).

This takes place in some obscure limbo of my first year in Abel (OOC: though there are some mentions of future characters - though no real spoilers). Merry Christmas! Hpappy Holidays! Enjoy before my neuroticism kicks in, and I start editing every single mistake I spot.

Summary: You're not quite sure if you believe he is who he says he is, but he does have the laugh and the sleigh. Plus, his reindeer almost ran you over. He needs your help to save Christmas, but you're leaving it up to him to convince Janine because you'd rather not have latrine duty... again.

---

“Good job, Five!” Sam crowed after you exited the shop, shoving the doors shut behind you and quickly pushing over a pile of molding wooden beams to block them. “That should keep those zombs from following you. Did you get the supplies?”

You tapped the headset twice and looked down at your bag, holding it open so your head cam could see the inside, then you took off, keeping an eye out for any stray zombies that had splintered off from the horde you had just trapped. You hadn’t expected them to follow you in, but you made sure they couldn’t follow you out.

“Fantastic! Come on home then, Five,” Sam continued. “You did magnificent today. I’m sure I can convince Rajit to let you have a hot shower when you get back. Just go on right ahead and make a right when you get to the sign up the road. Head due west. You shouldn’t run into anything too big. Maybe a few shamblers, but you can stay ahead of them, right, Five?”

You tapped three times this time and beamed when he laughed.

“Cheeky, Five. Now, just ahead, you might have to--hold on, what’s this? I see something on the scanner… I can’t--wait--no… I don’t--hey, Five. Do me a favor and take the next two lefts and head towards the block of flats by the old theatre. I need your eyes--well, your head cam’s eyes--eye? Just--turn here.”

You knew Abel was the other way, but you trusted Sam and followed his directions without hesitation. It looked like something interesting caught his attention, and his curiosity demanded to be satiated, using you as its vessel. Not that you minded, and now, you were intrigued as well.

As you approached the flats, you could hear the ambient moans of zombies growing louder as you neared, and you took extra care to be quiet and stealthy in case you stumbled upon any. You crouched by a wall, sliding along it. Your nose had just about grown numb to the rancid scent on the wind, yet you had to swallow back a gag nonetheless.

There was an unfamiliar panting and grunting noise also gaining volume as you stalked towards the junction. You leaned forward to peek. The scattering of pebbles and sounds of clopping and, strangely, bells were your only warnings before a brown form barreled around the corner. You jumped back, tripped over a crack in the pavement, and fell on your bum, scrapping your palm on the rough ground.

“Five?” Sam called, sounding baffled. “Was that--was that a reindeer?”

Your head whipped around, and you caught sight of the tailend of the creature before it disappeared down the road. You tapped twice.

“Last time I checked, reindeer were not a native species in these parts. Perhaps, it escaped a zoo--or a sanctuary. Do we have any of those near here? And--am I mistaken, or did it have bells on it?”

You pushed yourself to your feet and jogged around the junction in the direction where the reindeer had come from. You could definitely hear more than a few zombies ahead.

“It should be just ahead, Five,” Sam said as you skulked. “I can see a horde of zombies surrounding a house. I think there is someone trapped on the roof. They might need help. Think you’re up for it?”

Tapping twice, you sped up, following the moans.

“Um… Five? Is that--is that a sleigh? On its side?”

Yes. Yes, it was. It was tipped over on its side, one of its runners up in the air. The red painted wood was scratched and splintering in spots, and there were reins from the front rail piled on the ground, torn or unhooked. A red sack was tumbled out of the back, deflated on the ground.

“Oh, no. Tell me you’re not about to be chased by zombie Santa and his elves, Five,” Sam whined. “That would be so not holly jolly.”

You prodded the bag with your foot. It seemed to be empty, and you contemplated picking it up when you heard a deep voice bellow over the moans of the zombies just out of sight.

“Oh, ho, ho, no! Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! Come back here! Comet! Cupid! Donder! Blitze--where is Blitzen? Comet? Where is-- no! Back here! Chocolate fudge!”

You easily found the owner of the voice, and… Sam wasn’t too far off. A crowd of maybe fifteen zombies or so surrounded a two story house, its front door broken open. You suspected some may be inside, but the ones outside had their attention fixed upward where a familiar (in reputation) figure was on the roof. He limped along the edge of the roof, scratching his great white beard. His other hand was clutching a red hat with a white poof at the end, an accessory to the bright suit he wore over his rotund frame.

Your brain short circuited, but where you were rebooting, Sam was freaking out.

“Five! It can’t be! No! Come on!” he denied before flipping completely the other way. “Santa! It’s Santa! Five, that’s Santa! The Kris Kringle Saint Nick Santa! Surrounded by zombies! Santa is surrounded by zombies! Santa is about to be bitten by zombies and turned into a zombie! Father Christmas is about to be zombied!”

The radio operator inhaled loudly, reclaiming the air he had expelled with that breathless outpour.

“Five, you have to save him! If he dies, Christmas is over! You have to save Christmas!”

You tapped four times, and Sam quieted, letting you focus. You didn’t have time to think too hard on whatever was happening or who exactly you were seeing, but you did know how to help someone in a crisis like this. This was familiar.

You pulled out your noisemaker and turned it on before leaving your cover. Zombies were immediately attracted to the newer, more persistent noise, and you soon had a tail that you began to lead away from the house.

“Cut through those two building, Five,” Sam directed, sounding a bit calmer, falling into routine, but he still had a manic tinge to his voice. “If you hop that fence, you can lose them and circle back! Yes, that one. Oh, brilliant, Five! You went right over it. No problem. Okay, left around this house, and back to… Santa. Santa! Five!”

Four taps as you made your way back to the house, noisemaker off and back in your pocket.

“...but it’s Santa Claus, Five. Okay. Okay. I’ll calm down.”

The… man was still on the roof when you approached it. There were about two zombies still persistently moaning up at him. You unclipped your bat, and sneaking up on one, you whacked it from behind, nearly taking its whole head off. The body squelched on the ground, and you quickly dispatched the next one that turned to you. It was over in seconds.

“Oh, hello, Runner Five!”

You looked up at the greeting.

“...you know Santa, Five?”

Sam had no right sounding that betrayed, and you were just confused. How did he know who you were?

“It seems you are here to help me out of this pickle I’ve got myself in,” Santa (?) said jovially, like he wasn’t trapped on a roof. “I’m afraid I cannot get down the same way I got up. My ride seems to have suffered a--tragic accident. By the way, have you seen any reindeer? They wandered off.”

“...no. No way,” Sam exclaimed.

You just--you couldn’t--you walked around the house, locating a small shed by the back. You pushed at the door, the swollen wood resisting a bit before giving. Holding your bat at ready, you slipped in. It smelled musty rather than decaying, and you saw a few abandoned tools and supplies which you began to pack into your bag, wishing you had collected that sack (Santa’s sack?). There was a ladder like you had hoped, and you grasped it, lifting slash dragging it behind you.

“Ah, yes. That should work brilliantly,” Santa said as you reappeared, not looking the slightest bit concerned that you had abandoned him. “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”

You extended the ladder and leaned it against the side of the house, holding its side to steady it. “Santa” moved slowly, swinging a leg onto a rung and working his way down the ladder until he was on the ground again--like a normal person--not that this was the first person you’ve seen on a roof--but his roof activity had implications that didn’t just involve being trapped by the undead.

You backed up as he brushed his suit off and plopped his hat back on his head, eyeing him warily.

“Five?” Sam called quietly. “Does he really have ruddy cheeks?”

...who didn’t in this weather?

“Runner Five,” Santa said in a deep, warm voice with a great big smile. “I am so grateful you came along to help me. I must say I found myself quite puzzled on how to get myself out of that situation.”

“Does this mean you are on the Nice List?” Sam asked, then gasped. “Five, ask him if he has a Nice List? Am I on it?”

You tapped three times, and "Santa’s" gaze followed your hand as it dropped. He looked intrigued.

“Oh, is that Sam?” he asked, eyes studying the headset.

You froze while Sam squeed.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME!”

“Mr. Yao, what is going on in here?”

“Oh-um, Janine…”

“Why isn’t Five back yet with the equipment?”

“Um--you see--the thing is, Janine--that--”

You gestured at "Santa" to follow, and he started limping after you. Now that he was on ground level, you could see a wound through his torn trousers's left leg, but you couldn't see what kind. Nowadays, it was really important to know the cause. You stopped, unwilling to risk it. He looked at you expantantly, and you gestured at his leg.

"Ah, this old thing? Well, not old," "Santa" amended, both of you clearly seeing the still drying blood. "One of the runners of my sleigh caught my leg when my reindeer startled and took off without me. They're still not used to the current state of things unfortunately and can be quite skittish."

...whatever.

“Mr. Yao," Janine pushed, and you could almost hear her arms-crossed stance of pure intimidation.

“...Five just saved Santa!" Sam broke.

"...what? Mr. Yao, must I remind you that Santa Claus is not real?"

"Have you seen my sleigh by the way? Or any of my reindeer?" "Santa" asked, once again tailing you as you headed back towards where you had originally come and towards Abel. "I will be needing them if I am to fulfill my seasonal duty and get back home."

He was really committing to the role, wasn't he? Though, you had to give him points. You were almost run over by a reindeer.

"Uh-Five just sa--look for yourself!" Sam exclaimed at his wit’s end. “Five, look at him again.”

There was a rustling, and you turned your head, making sure your head cam was facing “Santa”. He waved.

“Hello, Janey,” he greeted, beaming. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How is little Tommy doing? Haven’t heard from you two in a long time.”

Sam’s sounds were pitched and incoherent, but Janine’s voice, low and tight, was clear, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Bring him in, Runner Five,” she ordered. “I would like to have a chat with him.”

“Janine! You cannot interrogate Santa!”

“Oh…” Santa breathed when you led him around the junction, and he spotted his sleigh. “Oh, dear.”

He limped over to it, and you followed after him, keeping an eye out for any of the zombies you had led astray earlier. Sam was supposed to be your eyes in the sky, your guy in the chair, but he clearly was trying to wrap his mind around this situation. You understood Janine’s wariness because you were too. How did this stranger not only know who was on the other side of the link but also all of their names?

“Who’s Tom?” Sam asked.

“No one. Forget you ever heard that name. Get Runner Five home.”

“...and she is gone,” Sam said after a pause. “An open book, isn’t she, Five?”

“Santa” caressed the side of the sleigh, his gloves catching on the splinters, and he pulled back. For the first time since you’d encountered him, he looked somber. You watched him walk around it then slowly crouch to examine the reins. He grasped a torn end, frowning. Abruptly, he dropped it and stood, brushing off his gloves and smiling at you.

“I suppose I must go with you to Abel,” he said, bending over to pick up the red sack by the sleigh and throw it over his shoulder. “It was one of my stops. I think I’m going to need your runners’ help.”

Sam inhaled, and you buckled in for his next outburst.

---

Despite his bum leg, “Santa” managed to keep up with you (after you slowed down a bit). As Sam yelled, “Raise the gates!”, you and “Santa” passed under a hail of bullets and through the outer gate. As the siren blared and quieted, a guard stepped forward to do your bite checks, eyeing “Santa” with bewilderment.

“Hello, George,” “Santa” said with a warm smile. “Is Lizzie doing well?”

George stopped in the middle of your examination and stared wide-eyed at the “Santa”. So did you.

“How-how-do I know you?” George sputtered, half between reaching for his weapon, but he looked more confused than hostile.

“Not as well as you used to, but Lizzie did mention that she was worried about you since her mum got hurt.”

“How--when have you spoken to my daughter?”

You caught George before he could get too close to “Santa”, and another guard steped forward to guide him back.

“Thank you, John,” “...Santa?” said offhandedly, looking at George. “I haven’t had the pleasure of talking with the young lady, but she still wrote a letter this year despite the apocalypse.”

“You expect me to believe you’re actually Santa Claus?”

As usual, some people were drawn by the gate sirens, curious to see who was out of the township and what they brought back, but instead of wandering off, they stopped to stare, calling over other people until a small muttering crowd was beginning to form. It’s not everyday that Santa comes to town.

“I don’t expect belief from anyone,” “Santa?” said, unmoved by the tension. “I am who I am. Hello, Sam!”

You turned to see the radio operator squeezing his way through the crowd, his headset hanging off center around his neck. He forced himself through, stumbling forward as he pulled himself free. Stopping, he stared, eyes wide.

“...Santa?” Sam called out tentatively, clutching his hoodie.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” “Santa (...what?)” said kindly. “I’m sorry to hear about your engineering degree, but I’m glad you’re putting your interests to use to help your friends.”

Sam lit up and rushed forward.

“I--it’s nothing really,” he said, suddenly bashful. “I just talk people’s ears off and hopefully get them out of trouble.”

“Sam, don’t tell me you believe him,” George said incredulously, still glaring at “...Santa”.

“I mean--look at him,” Sam said, gesturing at “Santa (...?)”. “And Five found his sleigh and almost got ran over by a reindeer. Tell them, Five!”

You flashed a thumbs up when the guards looked for confirmation.

“He was probably a mall Santa,” George countered.

“Or just crazy,” John added quietly, speaking up for the first time.

“Mr. Jones and Mr. Monroe, did you finish conducting the routine bite checks?” Janine’s stern voice cut through.

The two men startled to see Janine who had somehow managed to sneak up on all of them. “Santa (...)” smiled cheerfully at her.

“No, ma’am,” George mumbled.

“Get to it then.”

John dealt with “Santa (... …)” while George finished up your examination, all the while Janine watched with Sam buzzing next to her.

“Mr…?” Janine prompted as you both were cleared, and you handed over your bag to have the supplies emptied and sorted.

“Claus,” “Santa (...?)” supplied. “Or Kringle if you’d rather. I do prefer Kris.”

You could roll with that. Kris was shameless in the face of Janine’s disapproval, but it’s not like she could make him say otherwise.

“Mr. Kringle,” Janine said, her face twitching, but she maintained her cool demeanor. “I would like to have a private word with you.”

“I usually wouldn’t deny your request,” Kris started, “but I must say I have an urgent matter that I would like to discuss that I do not believe we would have time to get to if I allow you to question me.”

“And what is that?”

“I am incapable of completing my route without my sleigh and my reindeers, and I believe I need the help of your runners to complete my task.”

“You must be joking. Are you suggesting--?”

“Janey--um, Ms. de Luca,” Kris interrupted, correcting upon receiving Janine’s death glare. “I would not joke about such a matter. It is my job to maintain hope in this season, and with the world in such a state, it is ever more critical that Christmas--”

“Mr. Kringle! I do not have tim--”

“Must I prove it then?” Kris said, his gaze sharp.

Janine opened her mouth then closed it after a moment of deliberation. Folding her arms, she shifted her weight onto one leg, hip jutting, and gestured at him to continue. The small crowd had grown larger and nearer, eager to see the outcome of this. You could see Jody pushing her way to the front with Simon just behind.

“I usually depend on the unconditional belief of children and the few older True Believers,” Kris said, glancing at Sam for a moment who saw the look and gasped. “But if I must make you believe to gain your help, so be it. Runner Five, please take this.”

You grasped the sack he handed you. It was light and, looking in, appeared to be empty. Kris rubbed his hands together then reached into the bag, pulling out a wrapped box that was definitely not in there before. Your jaw dropped.

Peering at the name on the little card, Kris called, “Molly Harrison.”

There was a pause before you heard Ed shout out, “No, Molly! Come back!”

The little girl appeared, pushing through the legs of the larger folks around her. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold under her wide eyes that stared up at Kris. She toddled forward, clutching Mr. Rabbit in her arms, just as her father caught up, swinging her up in his arms despite her squirming to get away.

“Ed,” Kris greeted, stepping closer carefully and holding out the box. “I’m sorry about Becca.”

Ed scowled but took the gift, looking around at everyone watching him.

“And what’s this then?”

“Something for Molly and Mr. Rabbit.”

Ed did a double take, scrutinizing Kris before putting his daughter down. When he was sure she wasn’t going to run off, her mood shifting towards bashful as she clutched her father’s trousers, hiding behind them, he unwrapped the box. He pulled out a knitted hat, turning it over before freezing.

“Where did you get this?” Ed breathed tightly.

Sam perked up like you while Janine shifted subtly forward to see what was off. It was a knitted blue cap Molly’s size with a white “M” woven into it.

“She started it early,” Kris said gently. “She needed to keep her hands busy, but she didn’t get to finish Mr. Rabbit’s, so I did the honors.”

“Mr. Harrison,” Janine prompted after Ed stared at Kris for so long.

“Um--it’s Becca’s work,” he said, having to clear his throat a few times. “She made me one just like this a few years ago, with an “E”, you know--for um Ed... and she said she wanted to make one for Molly because it would get cold, and she didn’t want the cold to get Molly anymore than dem zombs.”

He swallowed, looking down at Molly who was toying with his trousers, obliviously gnawing on her stuffed rabbit’s ear. He turned the hat inside out and pointed at the thread.

“Here. You see this knot,” Ed said. “Even though you’re not really supposed to, she always knots the end three times after she weaves the finishing stitch back in just to make sure it won’t come loose… I know this is her work, but I haven’t seen it before.”

The box was tilted enough in his slack grip to show a smaller matching hat with an embroidered “R”.

“Five,” Kris called, keeping a gentle eye on Ed, and you stepped forward. “I usually don’t have gifts for adults, barring a few, but I thought this year needed to be extra special.”

Kris reached into the definitely empty sack and pulled out a smaller box (f-ck that), handing it to Ed who took it after staring at it for a few seconds. He didn’t hesitate to open this one, and he revealed a few compact disc cases, newer looking than anything you’ve seen in a while. You could see race cars on the cover.

“How…” Ed trailed off, and he looked at Kris with a look of growing awe and disbelief. “You can’t be.”

Kris grinned, tapping his nose. A slow smile crossed Ed’s face before he let out an abrupt laugh, shaking his head. You ignored Sam repeatedly slapping your arm, incoherently squealing under his breath.

“I think I’m going crazy,” Ed muttered then added a quiet, “Thank you,” with a small but sincere smile.

“Take care of this special girl,” Kris said.

Kris waved at Molly who waved back shyly, babbling and giggling. Ed packed all the gifts back into the larger box and picked up Molly, balancing everything and stepping back, still staring at Kris.

“A--an intriguing display, Mr. Kringle,” Janine said slowly. “However, I do not bel--”

“Not done yet, dear,” Kris interjected (casually missing her glare this time), reaching in the sack that you helpfully held up, curious to see where this was going.

“What he get you, mate?” you could hear Simon questioning Ed.

“Driving games. I… I told Jack and Eugene I wanted a few,” Ed muttered, pulling the knitted hat on over Molly’s head then one on Mr. Rabbit, much to the tot’s excitement.

“George, for you and Lizzie,” Kris said, tossing the gifts to the hovering guard then reaching in for more.

He started calling out names, and each person came forward, at first with caution and exchanged glances. But as gifts were unwrapped with shocked gasps or excited exclaims, there was less hesitation each time, an eager energy taking over the gathering. Rajit started crying when he unwrapped a professionally printed version of his novel. George stood stunned, clutching the doll Lizzie had been asking for and the old board game they used to play as a family on game nights.

“Okay, okay! Everyone calm down!” Janine yelled, dampening the growing cacophony. “Please move along.”

There were protests, but eventually everyone but the runners and Sam left (though people hovered nearby). Sam had his hood pulled tight over his head, vibrating in place. Janine turned to Kris who was waiting with a satisfied expression. She pinched her nose before looking heavenward.

“I--I cannot believe I am saying this, but um,” Janine managed before sighing. “...what do you need us to do, Mr. Kringle?”

Sam whooped.

---

“All right, Runners! Are you ready to save Christmas?” Sam said through your headset an hour later, his voice giddy.

No one had managed to calm him down since Kris asked if he could sit with him in the comms shack, his leg making him unable to help with the physical journey. You readjusted the red sack you had tossed over your shoulder, identical ones in the hands of the other runners. Kris had pulled more out of his original “dimensionally transcendental or perhaps it contains a transversable Einstein-Rosen wormhole--how do you keep it from collapsing without an infinite source of exotic matter--the implications it has on the modified theory of general relativity blah blah blah” (according to Chris who you ended up tuning out) “Magic Sack of Wonders” (according to Sam).

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Simon said through the comms link.

“Ready, Sam,” confirmed Jody.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sara sighed, done with everything before it even started.

A cherry “Ready!” from Maggie, “Let’s get this done” from Evan, confusing muttering from Chris’s side of the link, and affirmations from the rest of the runners. You tapped twice, and the siren blared at Sam’s direction.

“Raise the gates!”

---

“So, what’s the plan, Sam?” Sara said minutes later after you and she split up from the other runners who had other settlements as their destinations. “One that won’t have New Canton shooting us down where we stand. Five and I are not exactly on their Nice List. Not after the stunts we pulled.”

Jody and Simon were heading to Brunswick, Maggie and Chris to Red Settlement, Fiona and Charlie to New Skoobs, and Evan and Bonnie were making the long journey to Mullins, planning on taking one of the motorbikes Ed had told them about for part of the journey.

“Um--you each have those tree ornaments S-Santa gave you?” Sam said, voice cracking.

“If you die from overexcitement on us...” Simon jokingly threatened through your headset.

The radio operator giggled manically then cleared his throat, quietly coaching himself to some level of calm under his breath.

“We’ve got them, Sam,” Jody responded.

“Good. Good. So, they, um--they’re magical ornaments, and they uh make people trust you more--am I getting that right, Santa?”

“Magic’s not real,” Chris muttered. “If anything, it would be complex scientific phenomena that we cannot yet explain. If I could ju--”

“Maybe later, Chr--uh Ten. Okay?” Maggie soothed, diverting him from another ramble.

The relief was shared and audible among you all, more than one sigh coming through the link.

“Call me Kris please, Sam,” Kris said before speaking to you all, casually over the wheeze of the radio operator. “They each contain a remnant of what some would call the Spirit of Christmas… or of the Holidays. When you turn them on, they should remind everyone in your vicinity of the holiday season, what it smells like, tastes like, sounds like to them.”

“You can’t be--”

“It’s okay, Chris. You can debate Santa later.”

“People tend to be calmer and more welcoming in response,” Kris continued, ignoring the interruptions. “Just don’t turn them on too soon, or you may find yourself too relaxed to react to threats in your environment, say… the zombies approaching Runner Seven’s projected route from the east. Sam?”

“Right, Sa-Kris,” Sam said, taking a breath before continuing. “Runner Seven, I need you to speed up. You should be able to pass ahead before they intersect you.”

“Got it, Sam,” Evan said. “Come on, girl. Let’s outrun some zombies.”

You heard Bonnie bark once excitedly, and the Head of Runners chuckled. You and Sara were making good time, and you figured you could be there and back before the sun set too much--assuming New Canton actually cooperated and didn’t--you know--mow you down with prejudice. Kris was humming under his breath, and you snickered when you recognized “Run, Rudolph, Run”.

“So… Kris,” Sam said after a few minutes, trying and failing to sound casual. Kris hemmed, and Sam continued, “Do you read all the letters sent to you every year?”

“As many as I can. I get quite a lot,” Kris said. “When I’m working, sometimes, I’ll have an elf read them outloud to me.”

“Really?”

Kris chuckled.

“Nah… I mean, not anymore. It’s not the Dark Ages--the original one anyways. I have an audio program on my computer that can read them to me.”

“Wow… Five, Eight, turn left up ahead. You’re almost to New Canton.”

“Can see it up on the hill,” Sara responded. “Ready on your mark.”

“Good. Wait until you are spotted.”

“Received.”

The old castle grew larger on the horizon, and you and Sara took a less direct route, hoping to get closer, so they could be in vocal range and not just rifle range.

“I’ve seen your letter on Rofflenet,” Kris said.

Sam choked, coughing. You tapped the headset once paused then twice.

“I’m fine, Five,” he assured, voice rough. “What do you mean? I didn’t--I haven’t written a letter in years--I mean--”

“Sam, I have received a letter from you every year since you’ve learned to write, and I’ve read every single one of them,” Kris said gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with being a True Believer. It’s actually remarkable you’ve managed to hold onto your belief in the magic and joy of Christmas all these years.”

“My mum--she would help me write them when I was a kid,” Sam admitted. “And when I was older, she would ask me if I wrote mine yet. I thought I was too old to be writing to Santa, but she said you’d be sad if I stopped. I guess--I just…”

“I’m sorry about your parents, Sam, but I’m certain they’d be proud of you if they were here.”

There was a sharp, wet inhale before the line was cut from the comms shack. You looked at Sara, but she had her eyes forward, scanning the castle looming before you. You could just make out figures on the high walls when an intercom came to life.

“Runners from Abel Township! Stop where you are, or we will shoot to kill!” a soldier’s voice boomed over your heads. “You have some nerve coming this way again!”

“Five,” Sara called, pulling out her ornament and clutching it tightly. “Time to--oh, G-d. I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” She breathed. “Time to turn on our magical ornaments.”

You grinned at the pain in her voice, pulling your ornament until the halves separated. Turning them in opposite directions, you pushed them back together with a click. There was a pause. You held your breath.

The ornament began to light up, and you could hear the crackling of firewood and heady taste of cinnamon and apples coated your tongue. Your mouth started watering, chest panging as you took a deep breath filled with the strong scent of roasted pine cones.

“Do not make me repeat my--what…” the voice faltered. “What is…? Do you smell cookies, Tim? It’s… double chocolate chip and fudge. Just like my Nan’s… I--I haven’t smelled…”

The intercom died, and you could see figures converging before a few split off and disappeared below. The longer you stood there, the warmer your fingers felt, like when you would stretch them out over the flames. You heard a quiet sniff, but Sara was already turning away, a hand subtly brushing over her face. You looked forward again.

The intercom came on again.

��Abel Runners! Approach with your hands in the air! Guards will meet you at the gate! You better have a good reason for being here!”

“--aven’t heard this song since my pa--” another voice said in the background.

The intercom cut off, and you and Sara looked at each other before holding up your hands and walking forward.

---

It went--as well as one could expect. You endured the jeers from the guards that gave way to shock then confusion and elation as you did what had worked at Abel. When you reached into your “empty” bag, rifles aimed at you, you always found your fingers brushing one box more with the name of an individual present. When you handed it over to the suspicious recipient, you got to watch the skepticism melt away as their eyes widened, unbidden smiles breaking through.

Each reaction caused your smile to grow larger, a warm feeling filling you as eyes lit up. You were starting to get really into this, and you could even see Sara bantering with the guards and joining in with the teasing when guards got gifts that, though it was something they wanted, was a bit embarrassing to open up around their fellow colleagues.

“Do you have a central area where we can leave these, Robbie?” Sara asked the guard from the intercom who had a great sense of humor that didn’t come across when he was threatening to shoot… figures. “At this rate, we’ll be here all week.”

“This way,” Robbie said, a small smirk on his face as he dramatically bowed and gestured for you to proceed with him. “The mess hall should work. We just set up a tree some of our runners cut down. The kids are decorating it.”

People stepped aside as you passed by, watching with wariness or confusion as the guards around you joked and regaled you and Sara with some runner shenanigans or New Canton events. When someone drifted into your vicinity, they would pause, faces scrunching up as the magic of the ornaments enveloped them. Some would laugh, beam, look around wildly, or start to tear up. You gained a few followers, New Canton residents just as curious as Abel’s.

By the time you reached the mess hall, the crowd behind you was large. They spread out, filling up the room slowly as you and Sara headed towards the sizable tree surrounded by children who were attaching handmade decorations with the help of adults. You could see popcorn chains, paper ornaments, cotton, and more. It was haphazard but beautiful nonetheless.

The children looked up and backed away as they stared at all the people entering. Their minders pulled them closer when they recognized your Abel gear. You and Sara stood there in front of the tree, trying to decide your plan, ignoring the people muttering behind you. You kneeled down and started laying out gifts one by one, occasionally handing one to a curious child who had wandered over to see what you were doing, the gift always belonging to the person nearest you. However, you recognized a problem quickly, and so did Sara. She stepped back and turned on her transmitter.

“Sam, Kris,” she called. “We cannot pull these out one by one.”

“Turn your bags upside down,” Kris instructed. “Carefully.”

When both you and Sara did so, gifts came tumbling out. The voices around you got louder, people shouting and moving closer with each materialized box. You walked backwards, following the perimeter of the room, children rushing after you to pick up boxes and pile them closer to the tree. That allowed you to loop back.

Soon enough, large piles surrounded the tree even as people passed boxes around. Children were running around with their new toys and clothes, tugging at their parents’ sleeves. People gushed over their hammers, new boots, playing cards, and packets of hot cocoa. You saw more than one person crying over their half opened box, being consoled by someone else, but there was always a watery smile on their face. Laughter filled the room, the grim faces easing under more than the thrall of your ornament which was only a remnant of the Spirit of the Holidays, paling in comparison to the full joy and cheer that went beyond this room, spreading through the settlement.

You had more than one set of small arms wrap around your legs, and without malice or distrust, people greeted, thanked, and joked with you, handing you a cup of hot cider you sipped at carefully when you paused for a break.

You saw Sara examining a new knife a New Canton runner received, showing the younger woman a few moves. Robbie and Tim watched, their rifles abandoned on their backs as they asked questions or threw in some pointers. Someone had started singing some carols, and more and more people joined in, laughing over mis-sang or forgotten lyrics.

Even so, you knew there were more people than gifts you poured out. You tapped on Sara’s shoulder and held up your sack before miming it towards the people around you.

“Five wants to know if they can leave their sack with someone in New Canton,” Sara relayed. “I suspect there are more gifts to give.”

“The magic of the bags and ornaments end at midnight on Christmas night,” Kris said. “No harm leaving it behind.”

You flagged down a runner who had 20 on her armband.

“Hello. Hi. What’s this?” she said as you handed her sack. “Oh, you’re giving me your magic bag of endless presents. How exciting. I am curious to see how this works. It looks very empty, but I watched you pulling out box after box. Let’s see if I can do it too.”

She reached in, face lighting up as she felt something, and she pulled out a box. She squinted at it, turning it around in her hands until she found the card tucked under the bow.

“And it has my name on it! Archie Jensen. That’s brilliant. Can’t wait to see what’s in it. I wished for a lot of things.”

She tried to hand the sack back, but you held up your hands, shaking your head.

“What? You don’t want it back now?”

You shook your head again, and she frowned before realization dawned on her face.

“You have to go now, don’t you?” Archie asked, and she looked sad when you nodded. “Shame. Well… don’t get bitten or blown up or shot or who knows what else. I hope to see you again, Runner Five. Hopefully we won’t be trying to kill each other because our leaders are fighting again--like we aren’t all just trying to survive. Living killing the living while we have dead trying too.”

You held out a hand, but she pushed past it to hug you tight enough that you were certain your ribs shifted a bit.

“Bye, Five. Bye, Sara,” she said, clutching her box and the bag to her chest, beaming.

It was a while before you could really leave as people wanted to personally wish you well and happy holidays. Before you and Sara made your way out, you attached your frosted ornament to their tree and admired its soft glow.

“Let’s go, Five,” Sara said, Robbie waiting by her side.

You nodded, looking back once more before running towards them.

---

You and Sara turned your backs on New Canton, looking out at the setting sun.

“We should be able to make it back before dark if we’re quick, Five,” Sara assured. “We’re heading back out now, Sam.”

“All right. Head home, runners. You did great work today,” Sam said proudly. “Even zombies can’t stop Christmas.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Kris chimed in. “Well said, Sam.”

Sara’s sack was also gone, but she still clutched her ornament for comfort or assurance--who knew. Your fingers still felt comfortably warm, and you could always catch a faint wisp of fresh pudding.

“Me and Four are finishing up here,” Simon reported, shouting over the sound of children laughing and people singing in his background. “We’ll leave once Jody digs herself out from under a pile of imps.”

The squeals pitched before he cut his transmission. Evan reported that he was nearing Mullins Base and would be staying overnight while Maggie and Chris were still at Red Settlement. Charlie and Fiona had just reached New Skoobs themselves, and they said they were probably staying there as well.

“So, Santa,” Simon spoke up when you and Sara were halfway back to Abel. “Got any presents waiting for us back at Abel? Us Runners must be on the top of your Nice List.”

“You, Simon Lauchlan, have been on my Naughty List since the day you released three pigs in your school when you were fifteen,” Kris said drily.

The comms link was flooded with laughter and jeers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Simon said, a smirk clear in his voice. “The ladies find it nice when I’m a little naughty.”

Your groan wasn’t alone. Charlie even booed.

“Did you really release pigs in your school, Three?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. It was a prank me and my mates pulled. We painted three pigs with 1, 2, and 4 and let them loose. It took them all day to catch them, but they spent a week looking for a fourth pig. It was worth getting my ears boxed by my mum when we got caught. Best prank I ever pulled. Still proud of it.”

“Of course you are,” Jody said, sounding out of breath.

There was a child screaming right by her microphone, causing you to wince.

“You alright there, Four?” Sam asked.

“Just finishing things up,” she said. “Be on our way back now, Sam.”

“Good. Goo--”

“Sam. Will you take a look at this?” Kris interjected.

“Let me see… oh. Uh oh. That’s--that’s not--Five, Eight. I don’t mean to alarm you, but well… about twenty zombies are converging on your location. I don’t understand--they’re coming from different directions. What is attracting them?”

You smiled at Sara, certain that Sam will figure it all out because he was really smart. Sara had a serene expression, and she winked at you. You giggled.

“...are you laughing, Five? Your laugh is lovely, but this is not the time to laugh. More are approaching. You and Eight need to speed up.”

You covered your mouth, but more chuckles escaped. Still, you did pick up the pace with Sara matching you. You could hear the whistling groans growing closer, but you focused on your warm fingers and roasted pine cones and warm pudding.

“They’re surrounding you two! There’s almost forty now,” Sam sounded more stressed than you thought was warranted. “What is happening?! Okay, okay. No need to panic. Five, Eight, you have a small window. Keep going the direction you’re heading, but you have to pick up the pace, or else they’ll cut you off.”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Sara said warmly. “Five and I will be fine.”

You saw the zombies shambling out from behind buildings and trees, coming from all directions. There were a few in front of you, but you gave them a wide berth. The sound of their moans was thunderous.

“I would have to disagree… why do you sound so calm?” Sam asked as you ducked under a zombie’s arm.

“Sara, Five,” Kris called. “Did you turn off your ornaments?”

“Five left theirs at New Canton, but I still have mine. I didn’t want to risk those guards shooting us in the back, so I kept it on. Plus… it smells like sweet potato pie. It was my boys’ favorite.”

You wiggled your warm fingers.

“Do you think that’s what’s attracting the zombs, and why Eight and Five aren’t taking this seriously?” Sam asked.

“It’s definitely what’s keeping them so calm--too calm,” Kris said, “but I wasn’t aware of it having any effect on the undead.”

“Umm… I have a theory,” Chris piped up over the link. “You said the ornaments trigger sensory cues that people associate with festivity and the holidays. Could it be possible that they can tap into residual brain activity? Though the brains have mostly decayed, the zombies may still be drawn towards the source of the stimuli.”

“It’s… possible,” Kris granted. “Never had the chance to test it. It sounds reasonable.”

“Eight, turn off your ornament,” Sam ordered.

Sara hesitated but did so, and your fingers cooled, the scent of pudding giving way to rotting flesh. You jumped back as a zombie swung at you. You managed to stay on your feet and skirt around it.

“Sam!” Sara yelled. “We need an out. Now!”

“Just run!”

You could practically feel fingers brushing your back, and you swang your bat at a zombie reaching for you as Sara impaled one through the eye with her knife, a squelch following a wet smack.

“Ooh…” Sam cringed before crowing, “That’s what I call teamwork! Keep going though. You can’t fight them all.”

“Five?” Sara called. “Do you hear that?”

Through the moans and groans, you heard familiar bells and clopping. A great pair of antlers butted a zombie to the side, the reindeer shaking its head with a grunt. It scrapped its hoof on the ground, looking at you and Sara as you ran by it. You weaved and jumped through zombies, seeing your narrow path of escape closing by the second. You heard another squelch, and you had to behead your own zomb soon after.

“Hear what?” Sam asked anxiously.

“Just a bl--dy reindeer, Sam,” Sara panted, a painful sounding cough working its way out.

“Five, whistle at it,” Kris commanded. “Loud and clear.”

You did so, and you heard hooves clattering over pavement behind you. You glanced back to see the reindeer charging towards you, mowing down any zombies in its path. You suddenly heard more bells and hooves approaching, and a second reindeer then a third appeared, rounding the corner and running straight towards you and Sara.

“Five,” Kris started, but you already had a hand out as the antlers came up beside you. “Grab on.”

You did and swang yourself up on the reindeer’s back, grabbing at the torn reins from which hung the golden bells that rang so sharply amongst the moans. You wrapped your hands in them, bending low and bracing your legs, feeling the creature’s solid muscles moving under your thighs.

“You must be joking,” Sara coughed, but she ran towards one of the other reindeer despite her protests.

“Come on, Eight. How many people get to say they rode Santa’s reindeer?”

She didn’t bother dignifying that with a response and managed to clamber up on her chosen mount. Your reindeer lowered its head and whipped a zombie out of its way. You cheered, giggling wildly. Moving faster than you ever could on your feet, the reindeer carrying you and Sara burst free just before the zombies closed in, and you left them in your dust, their moans fading in the distance as the sun set.

---

By the time you saw Abel, the sun was nearly gone, and you had collected six more reindeer and four more runners. All of the reindeer ran behind you in pairs with you on the one leading in the front. Simon finally stopped clutching at his reindeer like it was going to throw him while Jody rode like a natural. Maggie looked less shaky and was keeping an eye on Chris who looked green around the edges.

You patted the head of the reindeer you rode. Though it was panting, your reindeer kept going, quick as a comet which you realized was its name from the loose tag on the back of its neck. Good boy.

“That’s what I call riding in style, run--no, riders,” Sam said. “Raise the gates! First wave of Santa’s elves are back for the night.”

The reindeer balked but did not flee from the sirens, and you coaxed them though the gates, swinging down once Comet settled. You stroked his head, grinning. You felt very sore from riding bareback, but it was better than being eaten, so you couldn’t complain. You saw Maggie helping Chris down, steadying the runner as he swayed, rubbing his back soothingly.

“You did good work, runners,” Kris said. “Sleep easy knowing you brought much joy in a time that very much needed it.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m knackered,” Sam yawned.

You groaned as the others jeered. The late shift guards approached, eyeing the reindeer cautiously. You submitted yourself to your bite check.

“Being an operator is hard work too,” Sam protested, his grin audible. “Sleep well, runners. You did great.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jody said as he signed off.

“What do you think they’re going to do with the big guy?” Simon asked.

“Hey, Five,” Sara called, stealing your attention as she tossed you her ornament. “Give this back to Kris or hang it on the tree for me. I don’t care. I’m gonna check in with Janine.”

You nodded, eyeing the ornament as she left, but besides its one unfortunate side effect, it was still pretty neat (and magic).

“What do we do with the reindeer?” one of the guards, Joe, asked quietly, but you were already walking away, your feet dragging.

You vaguely remember turning on and hooking the ornament on the tree in Abel’s square, your fingers warming and smelling pudding and pine cones, before you fell face first into your cot and passed out.

---

Abel was a different place when you woke up Christmas morning. The first sign was the candy cane hanging outside of your room when you stepped out in your gloves and scarf. Curious, you pulled it down, and you looked, seeing more hanging on the doors of other runners. Shrugging, you stuffed it in your pocket.

You exited the runners’ quarters and stilled, eyes widening. Paper snowflakes hung from fairy lights and tinsel that were wrapped around the comms shack nearby. You realized that it wasn’t the only building that was decorated while you slept. So were the runners’ quarters and all the buildings you could see as well. Soft holiday music drifted in the air, emitting from the intercoms.

As you wandered towards the square, you could hear activity, the sound of shrieking, laughter, and talking growing louder. You saw people admiring the tree, and you could see why. First off, it was not that tall or green last night, and it was gorgeously decorated with tinsel, lights, popcorn, and ornaments, some handmade and others well crafted. There were also some gifts piled under it, but not as many as you would expect for how many people resided in Abel.

Yet, people buzzed with excitement, the situation becoming clearer as you drifted through towards the kitchen.

“--found it right outside my room. I haven’t seen a complete deck since the outbreak. They were worth an arm and a leg before.”

“They’re so warm, and they are just my size too!”

“It will make my job so much easier. My old one was growing really dull, and it j--”

“Runner Five!”

You turned to see Jack jogging towards you, Eugene trailing behind him with his crutches.

“Glad we caught you,” Jack said, beaming. “We heard you had a real adventure yesterday, and we thought perhaps you might want to talk about it.”

“Hello, Five,” Eugene greeted much calmer, eyeing his partner with fond exasperation. “Sleep well?”

You nodded, grinning as Jack rolled his eyes at this clear waste of time.

“Me and Gene want to interview you. Nothing like a grand tale of zombie grinches and Christmas miracles to bring hope to the people,” Jack continued. “Just let u…”

You didn’t have time to wonder why the radio host trailed off, eyes widening, when you felt a puff of air brush your neck. Wet lips nibbled at your hair, and you turned. Comet grunted at you, nosing your clothes. You stood still, unsure what to do.

“He’s looking for sugar,” Kris said, coming up behind his reindeer and stroking Comet’s side fondly. “You don’t happen to have a sugar cube or candy on you, do you?”

You frowned before perking up, reaching in your pocket and pulling out the candy cane. Comet reached for it, but you held it back, looking at Kris.

“He can have one,” Kris said. “More than that, and he’ll upset his stomach--again.”

The reindeer grunted. You unwrapped the cane and held it out, smiling as Comet gobbled it up, petting his neck.

“I wish I had a camera,” Eugene muttered behind you.

There was a flash, and you blinked your eyes clear to see Charlie grinning.

“Guess who got a camera for Christmas!”

“Ooh! Take a picture of me and Genie,” Jack crowed.

He posed with Eugene who shifted his crutches to the side to wrap his arm around Jack’s waist, smiling. Charlie took multiple pictures, and before the last one, Eugene pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek, setting the other man’s face ablaze in time for the flash.

“Eugene!”

Eugene swung his way to peer over Charlie’s shoulder as she shook out the little pictures the camera emitted. He cackled as he got a good look at the developing photo, Charlie laughing with him.

“I’ll be keeping that,” Eugene said, taking the photo with a grin when it was done. “Get a tan, Jack. You go from ghost to tomato in seconds.”

The reindeer butted you, checking you for more treats, but you just stroked Comet’s head, nosing him back.

“He’s taken a liking to you,” Kris commented. “He’s usually much more temperamental.”

You wiggled your nose at Comet who snorted in your face, his breath warm and rank. You gagged, and Kris chuckled deeply. You looked at him, taking the time to study him and his new appearance. He had changed into overalls and flannel, looking at ease despite the cold weather. He saw you looking.

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” Kris protested, and you held up your hands in surrender, grinning as he laughed more. “The good doctor took care of my leg as well. Now, will you show me the way to the kitchen? I’m feeling peckish.”

Your stomach growled on cue, and you nodded, weaving your way through the people, many of which moved aside, watching the mythical man trialing after you with a reindeer. You ignored it, listening as Kris told you a little bit about his travels before the apocalypse.

“I was always fond of Egypt. Their kahks are delicious.”

“Five! Over her--Oh, Kris! Hi!”

Kris chuckled as Sam waved wildly, beaming out from under the great red hat that was perched on his head, slipping over his brow. Maxine had to push it back up before it fell off his face, and he shot her a grateful smile.

“He deserved it,” Kris explained at your glance. “Santa’s True Believer. He doesn’t know it yet, but that hat will bring him much fortune if he manages to hold onto it.”

Simon, Jody, Maggie, and Chris were at the table as well, and you saw Fiona at another. She and Charlie must have gotten in earlier.

Chris didn’t even look up from the red sack he was examining in his lap, but Maggie smiled from beside him, waving and moving over to let Kris in after you approached with your trays, and you squeezed in next to Sam, brushing shoulders with him. Comet lingered by the table, people skirting around him though they watched him with curiosity.

You tapped your nose three times, pointing at the hat, and Sam stuck out his tongue.

“I think I rock it, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine dodged, smiling at you. “Morning, Five. How are you feeling?”

You see-sawed your hand, and she hummed sympathetically, her head bobbing.

“If you need anything, come see me later.”

You nodded, rubbing your sore legs.

“Coming to the party later?” Simon asked.

“Janine cleared it?” Jody asked with a frown.

“Nope,” he snorted. “Coming?”

“I’ll probably stop by.”

“That’s the one Jack and Eugene were planning, right?” Sam asked, stealing a banger off your tray, smiling innocently with it shoved in his mouth.

Disgusting.

“Yup. They said they’ve got the good booze,” Simon tempted.

“Whiskey, and I’m in,” Maggie said.

“I’m sure I could scour up some, Maggie,” Kris said with a mischievous smile.

She quirked a brow, and when he grinned, she laughed.

“Good luck getting your sack back from Chris. I just barely managed to stop him from unravelling it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Chris mumbled to himself, running his fingers over it.

“It’s all right, Chris,” Maggie said, patting his shoulder. “It’s magic.”

“It’s advanced technology.”

“Okay.”

“Sam Yao, please report to the comms shack,” Janine said over the intercom, drawing people’s attention as it briefly interrupted the ambient music.

Sam sighed but pushed himself up.

“I have to get Evan back to Abel. I’ll see you at the party later, right, Five?”

You nodded, and he grinned, taking his empty tray with him. You fed Comet some boiled carrots and beans, his lips running over your palm for every scrap.

“I have to go too,” Maxine announced. “I want to organize my supplies before tonight. I plan on getting completely wasted. Don’t get any fatal injuries between today and tomorrow because I won’t be any help.”

You snickered.

“What did you get, Five?” Jody asked once Maxine left. “I got new knitting needles and some really good yarn.”

Your brows furrowed, wondering if you had perhaps overlooked your own box.

“Oh, I have not yet given Five their gift, Jody,” Kris said, smiling at you. “I wanted to deliver it personally since they did save my life yesterday.”

“Bet it won’t top my new football,” Simon challenged before you could respond.

You bared a sharp smile at Simon as Jody elbowed him. He protested, rubbing his arm, overacting the severity of the pain.

“I made an exception this year, Simon, but you are still on my Naughty List. Remember that.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Santa.”

---

At the party later that Janine totally did not know about (she was in the corner sharing a drink with Sara who was holding a plate of sweet potato pie), you sat comfortably in the rec building with the quickly knitted elf hat that Jody threw at you (before she started on another, having already completed one for Simon, Maggie, and Chris) on your head.

Sam was coming back over from the buffet table, balancing cups filled to the brim with various drinks. He still wore his Santa hat with pride despite how much ribbing he was subjected to. Maxine gratefully accepted her cup, following through with her plan to get utterly sloshed tonight.

“Runner Five. If I may steal you for a moment.”

You looked up at Kris, who waved away another child, and stood, following him to a corner, avoiding Jack and Eugene who found and were making good use of some mistletoe. You looked at Kris who was reaching in his pocket. He pulled out a small wrapped box. You took it curiously.

“Be assured, Five, your friends have met all your desires, hiding their gifts for you away by the tree,” Kris said. “You have been a good friend to them, and they wish to show you their gratefulness. All the practical matters have been left to them. I have something a little more… metaphysical that I believe you have deserved. Open it.”

You used your nail to tear and peel back the wrapping, prying open the lid. Inside was a familiar golden bell, one of the many you saw sewn onto Comet’s reins. You picked it up, shaking the bell to hear its sharp jangle.

“Five, if you should ever be in great need of something, hold the thought of it in your mind and ring this bell,” Kris said, catching your eyes gravely. “It will only work once, so I trust that you will use it wisely.”

You clutched the bell tightly in your hand, giving a determined nod, trusting his word. The bell slowly warmed in the heat of your palm. You would be careful with it.

“Stay alive, Five, and take care of you and your friends,” Kris said. “They’re counting on you, and I know you are up to the challenge. Happy Christmas.”

Kris pressed a finger to his nose and winked before fading before your eyes.

You blinked, staring at the wall confused. What were you doing in the corner by yourself? Weren’t you just… You turned and walked back to your friends, shaking your head.

“Nice hat, Sam,” Simon teased. “Did Five get that for you?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Sam said, clutching the red hat in his hands, frowning, but he shrugged, putting it back on. “I rock it though, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine slurred intoher cup.

“Five!” Sam called. “Where did you wander off to?”

You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t grab hold of it. You just shrugged, sitting next to him and accepting your cup with your free hand.

“Whatchu got there, Five?” Maggie asked.

You frowned, and she gestured at your other hand curled around something. You peeled back your fingers, revealing a golden bell that glistened brightly in the light.

“Where’d you find that?” Sam asked, peering at it, his hat’s bobble flopping in his face.

You… you weren’t sure, but you felt it was important. You shrugged and pocketed it, reaching out to tug Sam’s hat down over his face. He sputtered, spilling his drink a bit, and everyone laughed, falling over themselves in joyful (and drunken) abandon if only for tonight. Your chest was bursting with happiness, and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face all night, pressing your cheek to Sam’s when Charlie called for you all to pose.

Her camera clicked and flashed, letting out a pop. Your face ached from smiling.

---

‘Twas the night after Christmas, and all the through the township

Not a corner was sans gayful laughter and friendship

Children shrieked as their parents smiled on

Friends teasing and jeering and bursting in song

Huddled with his runners laid a young operator

No longer a child yet still a True Believer

And at his side was faithful Runner Five

A willful spirit who will fight for Abel to thrive

There is much they will face, but for now they cheer

Knowing that, in this moment, they had nothing to fear

And though midnight passed, and magic faded from their minds

On the tree in the square, an ornament hung and still shined

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

"I can tell you're lying" please? X

Featuring some canon- post the first defeat of IT, reddie cuteness. 

* * * * *

The walk home from the sewers was absolutely revolting. Each step that Eddie took, his shoes would squelch thanks to the grey water, and his skin was covered in grime. He knew that the second his mother spotted him, she’d drag him straight to the ER to make sure he hadn’t caught any infectious diseases

Still, he pushed his bike onwards, the rest of the losers a few steps ahead as they walked with one another to their houses. Even though the murderous clown was seemingly gone, for now, Eddie still couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. Just in case.

“Hey, Eds,” the voice of his best friend, Richie, caught him off guard and he looked up, his eyes narrowing just a little. He never said anything though, as Richie still had this haunted look in his eyes, one he had never seen before and wanted to ask about, but he didn’t.

“Yeah, Rich?” He asked instead, letting Richie slow down so they could walk side by side. “What is it?”

Richie was silent for a few more seconds, and Eddie was about to ask again when he finally replied. “You can shower at my place if you want? So your mom doesn’t see you all dirty. Don’t want to give her any other reason to hate us, right?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but he still looked terrified, and therefore it fell flat.

“I’d love that,” Eddie agreed, the thought of having a warm shower and cleaning himself up, and not having to risk going to the hospital was too much to turn down.

They stopped at the shortcut that would lead them to Richie’s house and Richie whistled to catch the others attention, “Eds is going to use my shower so, we’ll just head there. See you at the quarry tomorrow?”

The others all agreed, giving the two of them a wave as they walked down the alley towards Richie’s street. Even though earlier that day, Eddie had watched as Henry Bowers tumbled down a well to his death, he still couldn’t help but feel that he would...appear. He never did though, and they both made it to Richie’s place in one piece.

Maggie and Went weren’t home, thank goodness. Eddie loved Richie’s parents, they were like his second family, so if they had seen the state of them there would definitely have been questions. Richie let Eddie shower first, and even let him borrow some of his clothes that would definitely be too big for him, but they smelled like his best friend, so Eddie couldn’t care.

Not that he would ever admit that to Richie. His head was big enough.

Eddie turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower, drying off and slipping into the clothes before letting Richie take his turn. For the rest of the night, they read comics and tried to take each other’s mind off of what had happened mere hours ago. It was going to take a miracle for Eddie to fall asleep tonight, or any night in the near future.

“I should go home now,” Eddie mumbled, running a hand through his damp curls as he looked at the clock. It was almost eight. “I don’t want to end up on a milk carton.”

Richie snorted, but nodded his head, “You’re right. Let me walk you home, yeah?” He asked and Eddie nodded. He didn’t want to walk home alone. Not yet anyway. They dressed quickly and made their way down the stairs and back down the street towards Eddie’s house.

They were silent for a while, just listening to the sound of their shoes hitting the gravel, until Eddie couldn’t quite take it anymore. As they walked, their fingers just brushing against each other and Eddie felt a blush rise up on his cheeks. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, or the first time Eddie wanted their fingers to lace together.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked after a few more seconds of silence. Normally, Richie was the one who was laughing and telling jokes with his loud mouth, this was the longest he’d ever been quiet. “I mean, as okay as can be after defeating a crazy murder clown?”

There was a beat before Richie nodded his head, “Yeah, of course I’m fine Eds, why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, looking at Eddie but he could see that there was...something in his eyes. The look didn’t convince Eddie that Richie was fine.

“I can tell you’re lying,” Eddie whispered after a few moments and he came to a stop, turning his full body to face his best friend. “I mean, of course you aren’t okay! We almost died! I broke my arm for fucks sake but you- you still felt like you had to lie to me? Why?”

Richie blinked, letting out a very soft chuckle, “You’re right, Eds,” he sighed. “Everytime I close my eyes I see that fucking clown and…” he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter Eds. Not anymore. What matters is that it’s over right? It’s over and we can get back to our normal lives like it never happened.”

“But- but it did happen,” Eddie whispered as they started walking again. “It happened but we- we all were there and so we- we have each other to lean on, right?”

By the time Eddie had stopped talking, they were standing outside of his house, the light from the living room making it clear his mother was still awake and waiting for him. Richie stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled at Eddie, a warm smile that caused Eddie to smile back, for the first time in...what felt like weeks.

“You should probably go inside,” Richie mumbled. “Before your mom has an aneurysm.” He pointed to the house where the light from the TV flickered against the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds. Okay? Get some sleep.”

As Richie made a move to take the walk back to his house, Eddie jumped into action, wrapping his good hand around Richie’s wrist and stopping him from leaving. “Wait-” he forced out when Richie gave him an odd look. Before he could talk himself out of it, Eddie leaned up and pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek. “Thanks...for everything.”

Eddie flushed when he pulled away, Richie frozen in place for a second before a hand came up to brush against the skin of his cheek where Eddie’s lips had just been. “I-” he stammered, clearing his throat. “Anytime Eds. Anytime.”

That night, Eddie fell asleep with a smile on his face and for the first time in...forever, he felt that everything was going to be okay.

* * * * * 

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @thundercatseddie @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @deadlighten @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora 

[fanficslutforsmut]

The Walking Blind: Chapter Eight

It had been a few hours after Tyreese's plea to stay, and for the most part, some of us were outside. Myself, Carol, Carl, just enjoying the sweet air, the warm feeling of the sun on us in the courtyard.

"It's so quiet," Carl said, almost blissfully. I could hear someone walking around, the gravel crunching under their feet. I hummed in agreement.

"It's easy to forget how loud the world used to be. I used to complain about it all the time. Traffic, construction, car alarms, noise pollution. Oh." She seemed to laugh and sigh together in a second.

"What I wouldn't give for the sweet sound of a jumbo jet." I laughed, also somewhat missing all the wonderful sounds of the city.

"Or a boat, with all their horns, and the ocean, and the birds." I laughed, secretly wishing I'd wake up from this mess on a yacht somewhere with my family.

"It'd be even sweeter if we were all on it," Carl added. We all took a second to agree on that, it would be nice to be in the air, away from all this craziness.

"Your mom was proud of you," Carol told him, I half smiled, feeling the same despite barely knowing him and not knowing his mother at all but Carl seemed to take the change of humanity in the world fairly easy, even with his young age.

"For what, being mean to her?" Carl scoffed, kicking at the gravel. I furrowed my brows, and suddenly I felt like I was intruding on this conversation. It wasn't meant for my ears.

"No, you can't think about that." She told him. They were pacing now, I stood still by the cement post.

"It's all I think about," Carl muttered, and as suddenly as the conversation had started it was ending.

"Do you hear that? It's a car or something." I said, walking closer to the fenced area ahead of me.

"Please be them." I prayed to whoever was up there.

And it was closer, the sound was heavy now, my eardrums bustling.

"It's them, hurry," Carol ordered, I stayed off to the side, waiting for the news. They opened the gate, closing it immediately after the car drove in, stopping right in front of me. I heard doors open and close and my heart was drumming quickly.

"Drive em' up. I'll meet you there." Rick asked.

"Ok." It was from Maggie. And I felt my chest feel lighter, she was safe.

She was alive.

"Thank god." Rick breathed, gathering Carl in his arms. I heard them breathing each other in, thanking everything they believed in that they returned to each other for another day.

"Where's Hershel?" Rick asked.

"He's in the cell block," I answered, I didn't mind that Rick was impartial to my presents but I tried to make myself known at least.

"Where's Daryl?" Carol asked. I turned so fast I thought I had whiplash.

"What do you mean?" I asked, walking towards her. "Where is he?" I questioned, needing an answer.

It's all right. He's alive." Rick answered, walking towards us, comforting Carol.

"Then why isn't he here? Where is he?" I cut him off. I felt better knowing his life had been spared but it still didn't settle the now very queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt sick.

"We ran into his brother. They went off." Rick told us both now, his voice sharper than it was a moment ago.

"He left? Daryl Left? So- so what? He's gone?" I questioned. My stomach lurched with every confirmation I got that Daryl was indeed no longer here.

"Is he coming back?" Carol asked, but this time Rick didn't have an answer and after a moment Carol scoffed, pulling me away with her.

Carl and Rick followed behind us, talking amongst themselves.

"And Oscar?" "No."

We all walked in silence then, closing the gate and walking towards the prison, the sounds of hungry walkers fading away from us the further we got.

We got to the rest of the group, all reuniting. Beth was snug with Maggie, thanking god they came back ok.

"You came through like always. Sounds like we have a new problem on our hands." Hershel told Rick as Carol and I walked inside, I stopped pausing in the doorway.

"Yeah." "You get a good look at him?" "He had Daryl and Merle pitted against each other. A crowd cheering for them to fight to the death. What kind of sick mind does that?" Rick asked him.

"The kind this world creates." There was a pause.

"What's wrong? The baby?" Rick's voices changed into one of urgency.

"No, not the baby. Eats like a horse, sleeps like a rock." Carol and I walked away now, no longer interested in the conversation.

"We need to find Daryl!" I told her as we kept walking, Bear hot on my heels.

"He'll find us, Monet. He'll find us." She rubbed my back as tears slipped down my cheeks.

We walked back into the common room where we kept our guests. Carol, Carl and I were sitting and waiting to hear Rick's ruling. Soon the loud sound of the metal doors opening for Rick and Hershel perked us all up.

He walked right past us really, and we followed, leaving and locking them back up. Rick went to Beth to pick up his daughter, her immediately crying. It was quiet besides a small comment Beth had made and the babies constant crying. He gave her back to Beth.

I could barely listen let alone participate in Carol and Beth's newfound conversation about babies until Daryl was mentioned, then my heart started beating a little faster.

"I don't see why he had to leave. Merle sounds like a jerk." Beth mentioned to Carol and suddenly I was interested again.

"Men like Merle get in your head, make you feel like you deserve the abuse," Carol told her, and that gut-wrenching feeling was back.

"Even for Daryl?" Beth asked, and now I was on the edge of my seat, desperate for Carol's knowledge of this man who had convinced Daryl to leave us. To leave me.

"I'm hardly the woman I was a year ago,  but if Ed walked through that door right now, breathing and told me to go with him, I'd like to think I'd tell him to go to hell." Carol sighed.

"You would." I piped up, giving her a weak smile.

"Doesn't matter." She breathed, taking a few steps before Beth spoke.

"We're weak without him." I hated the need in her voice as she longed for Daryl the same way I did. I bit my lips so hard it started to bleed.

"We'll get through this, too. Tyreese and his friends seem capable." Carol told her, or us.

"I'm pissed at him for leaving," Beth said and before I knew it I was standing, marching away from the lovesick girl. A small part of my brain called jealousy was uneasy with how openly Beth expressed her feelings for Daryl.

She didn't get to be mad at him, what about me? Daryl is the only person who wanted me around and he left me. Vulnerable to the wolves, or better known Rick possibly throwing me out to the walkers on my own.

I was pissed! Me!

I stopped in a random hallway, stopping and listening to the silence for a moment be alone finally. It wasn't long before I could hear more voices, echoing throughout the halls. I followed along to the sound, down by more cells.

It was Hershel and Glenn.

Tags: @theunofficialduke @lonewolf471 @nikki082489 @amongthewildthingss

[eightmakar]

A Summer At Stark / One / P.P.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Character

Summary: Cameron Murphy is a Georgia girl working in the Big Apple over the summer with Stark Industries and their “most promising employee” Peter Parker.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS

A/N: I know i was supposed to post this yesterday but hey tumblr is a piece of shit and deleted the whole ass post when i tried to schedule it. so here it is instead! the Tag List is open so shoot me an ask! shoutout to @the-claire-bitch-project for beta reading!

Cameron placed her box down on the couch of her tiny new Queens apartment. She tugged her tank top down and her running shorts up again; her shirt always seemed to creep up her tummy while her shorts slid down her butt, especially when she carried things.

She was dripping with sweat. When she accepted this summer job in Queens, she expected it to be cooler than the Atlanta summers she’d grown up with. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and wiped the sweat off onto her shorts. Her hair was sticking to her throat and neck and she could feel it frizzing up. Why had she come up north away from the humidity just to have her hair frizz up wildly while she was moving in?

She pulled her hair down from and flipped her head over, combing through her thin, blonde-kissed brown curls and forming them back into their ponytail. She bound them with her hair tie, making sure she got as many of the flyaways as she could.  She fanned at herself for a moment, trying to cool off before she had to trek back downstairs and outside to her car. Only a few boxes left, she thought to herself.

Cam took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. She bit the inside of her lip, tugging on it as she looked around the shoebox. She wished her parents had been able to come up and help her move, but they didn’t have the work time off since they’d taken time off to go on vacation together with her sister.

She finally walked out of the door of her apartment and padded down the hall to the elevator. Her building had just been renovated by Stark Industries, Cam’s new employer. She was working a summer internship with them that she hoped would turn into a job someday. She’d been told by the hiring manager she’d be working on some sort of “special” project with Stark’s “most promising team member.”

She wished this promising team member could’ve helped her move her stuff in. Cam nearly cried in joy as she realized she just had one box and her backpack left to move in. She swung her backpack on her shoulders and trudged to her trunk to lift up the box. She placed it gently on the ground as she shut her trunk door and locked her car with the remote on her key. She leaned back down with a groan, grabbed the far corners of the box, and headed back inside her apartment building.

She waited for the elevator patiently, thankful she’d left the lightest box for last. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped in.

The doors began to close and Cam heard a small call of “wait!” She groaned and stuck her foot in the door to prevent it from closing as a boy came running into the elevator with you. He was on the smaller side, just a few inches taller than Cam. He shoved his unruly brown hair out of his face as he grinned.

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “What floor?”

“Um, seven,” she said, pressing her lips together. She was still sweating, still horribly sticky, and didn’t have the energy to be talkative.

“Sure thing,” the boy said. He pressed the “7” button and only the seven button. He bounced up and down, full of energy for some reason. Maybe he enjoyed the god-awful heat. “I’m on seven, too.”

Cam just looked at him, lips still pressed together over her teeth, and nodded.

“You, uh, just moving in?” he asked. He turned to press his back against the opposite side of the elevator, grabbing the handrail.

“Yep,” Cam said. “I’ll be here all summer.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to introduce himself or welcome her, but the door dinged open again. Cam mumbled a quick “bye” and hurried off the elevator, walking quickly to her apartment.

She plopped the box down and sighed, tugging her backpack off her back and letting it gently drop to the floor. Cam kicked her flip-flops off and padded to the thermostat. It was set on 70, but she felt like she was melting, so she reset it to 62. She would set it to probably 65 later, but for right then, she needed to cool off.

Cam ripped her shirt off and stood in the middle of the room in her sports bra. She looked down at her tummy, turning her nose up a tiny bit at the purple stretch marks that decorated her stomach. She shrugged, then laid down on the floor. She was surprised at how much cooler it was.

Cameron laid for a few moments before forcing herself to get up again. She found her box labeled “BEDROOM” in her sister’s handwriting and carried it into her room with her. She dropped it on her Queen-sized bed, then sighed when she remembered she left her pocket knife in her backpack. She padded back into the living room and grabbed her backpack, dragging it into her bedroom and lifting it up on the bed with the box. She dug through the small front pocket until she felt her knife.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling it out and tugging the blade out of its cover. She cut the tape on the box, pushed the blade back in, then tossed her closed knife on the bed. She ripped open the box and was greeted with a framed picture of her, her sister, and her best friend, Maggie. She grinned at it, pulling the frame out of the box and immediately placing it on her bedside table.

She unpacked for a while, making her new place feel like home. She kept a list in a note on her phone of what all she needed. Her new landlord had left her a welcome basket with things like toilet paper and paper towels and soap, which was wonderful. She did, however, have to order pizza, since she had no food in the house, but she wasn’t complaining about buying New York pizza.

Cam arrived extra early at the Stark Industries in the morning. It was situated near Prospect Park, a quick Subway ride from her Queens apartment over to Brooklyn. She walked into the enormous building, nervously feeling the gel fingernail polish that adorned her nails. She was excited nervous, but still scared her new employer or this promising recruit she would be working with would somehow deny her a job.

The secretary at the front desk directed her to the elevator and told her to go to the 45th floor. She thanked the secretary and walked nervously to the elevator. Cam’s eyes went wide as she looked at the directory next to the elevator button. 45TH FLOOR: MS. PEPPER POTTS, CEO, it read. The CEO? Why was she meeting the CEO?

Nevertheless, she stepped onto the elevator and hit the button. The doors began to close when she heard a small call of, “Hold the door!”

Cam stuck her hand between the elevator doors to force them to open again. Standing in front of the open doors was none other than the chirpy, brunette boy she’d met the day before in the apartment elevator.

He looked confused as he stepped onto the elevator. “Is this, like, a glitch in the Matrix or something? Didn’t we meet yesterday on an elevator?”

Cam pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yep, we did. Are you, like, following me or something?”

The boy shook his head. “Oh, no no no, I work here.” He pointed to an extremely obvious Stark Industries badge hanging directly in front of Cam. “I’m Peter Parker.” He stuck out his hand.

“Cam Murphy,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“What floor?” he asked, turning to look at the buttons. He paused, about to reach for the “45” button when he realized it had already been pressed. “Oh, are you the summer intern?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m a summer intern,” she said, awkwardly.

“We only hired one intern this summer,” Peter said. “I could only convince Pepper to give me one helper.” He chuckled, then took a sip of a coffee he had in his hand.

“Oh,” Cam said, thinking. “So you’re this ‘up and comer’ I keep hearing about?”

Peter spluttered on his coffee. “‘Up and comer?’” he repeated. “I don’t know about that.”

“I was told I’d be working with the “most promising employee” here,” Cam explained.

“Oh.” Peter was shocked and stared at the wall ahead of him before puffing his chest up proudly.

“What do you do here?” Cam asked, turning to look at him.

“I do, uh, research,” he stuttered.

“On?”

“Um, have you heard of Spider-Man?”

Cam snorted. “The spandex-wearing dumbass that swings around the city? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Um, yeah, that guy, he, um, he works here, kinda, I guess. But the webbing, um, stuff that he uses is super cool and I do research on it.”

Oh, so he’s Spider-Man, Cam thought. But he doesn’t want me to know. Wait. He’s Spider-Man. He, like, regularly gets in fights? And swings around the city with webs and shit? What the fuck? Why this guy? He’s so… tiny? Why spiders? Is he one of those weird bug guys? What the fuck?

“What’s so special about it?” Cam asked aloud, hiding her confusion. She examined him, looking for some enlightenment on why this guy specifically had become a worldwide phenomenon. He just seemed like a normal guy. A normal guy who liked to talk.

Peter’s face brightened. “It’s like, crazy strong, right? It’s got all kinds of qualities that could be used for other things, like in medicine, so we’re being contracted by a bunch of different agencies to see what other things it can do!”

Cam smiled. He was so passionate about this web stuff that her suspicion was immediately confirmed. He was, one hundred percent, Spider-Man. But why spiders? What was his deal with spiders? She had so many questions for him.

The elevator dinged and the doors swung open. Peter held his arm out, motioning for Cam to step out before he did.

“Ladies first,” he said.

She stepped out of the elevator and gazed around. It was incredible. Windows were everywhere, so it felt bright and warm in the room. Peter stepped out next to her, then ushered her to the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” the secretary asked. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Ashley!” Peter chirped happily.

“My name is Cameron Murphy, I’m the new intern,” Cam said. “I’m guessing I need a badge?”

“Welcome to Stark!” Ashley said. She fumbled in her desk for a moment before she pulled out a badge that read GUEST. “I’ll take your picture later and get you a permanent badge made, but for now, this will be yours! Peter can take you back to meet with Ms. Potts, and since you’ll be working with him, he’ll also show you your work station! If you need anything, let me know!”

Cam pinned the badge on the hem of her shirt. “Thanks!”

Peter pointed to a hallway behind him as Ashley went back to typing on her computer. “This way, madam,” he said.

Cam paused, curtsied at Peter, tugging her flower-print dress out, then continued into the hallway.

Peter laughed, and Cam felt a small surge of pride. She didn’t know why; maybe it was because Peter’s happiness was infectious, or maybe it was because she didn’t know a single soul in New York and he had been kind to her from the moment he met her. Either way, she walked down the hall, Peter hot on her tail, until she saw a sign on the door she was looking for.

“That’s it on your left,” Peter said from behind her.

Cam gasped dramatically. “No, really? I thought I was looking for the door that didn’t say ‘Pepper Potts, CEO.’”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he said. “Very funny.”

Cam smirked and shrugged. “I try.”

Peter walked up to the door and just went inside, to Cam’s surprise. She looked at him incredulously as he held the door open for her, motioning her inside. “Why didn’t you knock?” she asked quietly as she walked inside.

“Because he doesn’t need to,” a strong woman’s voice said. Cam looked to the desk in the middle of the room to see none other than Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries and the widow of Tony Stark.

“Hi,” Cam squeaked. Pepper was one of her idols, so she couldn’t believe she was here.

“Hi, Cameron,” Pepper replied, coming around to the front of her desk to shake Cam’s hand. “We’re so excited to have you as part of the team.”

“I go by ‘Cam,’” she managed to get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t,” Cam started, “don’t worry about it! I’m very excited to be here.”

“I see you’ve already met Peter,” Pepper said as she walked back behind her desk. “Have a seat, please!”

Peter sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Pepper’s desk. He leaned back, looking at Cam as he put his hands behind his head.

Cam saw movement underneath Pepper’s desk, but as soon as she realized what was happening, there was a loud cry of, “BOO!”

Peter fell backwards out of his chair, landing face first but immediately jumping up perched forward on one hand with the other behind him. It was a pose Cam had seen Spider-Man do on the news, so she added that to another mental note under “Evidence Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

A little girl, probably 7 or 8 years old, clambered to her feet, giggling. “Gotcha!” she said proudly.

Peter breathed deeply and looked at the ground, smiling and shaking his head. “You sure did, almost scared me to death!”

She giggled again, then ran towards Peter, who scooped her up in his arms, set his chair back up, and sat back down. Cam followed suit, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“This is our new friend, Cam,” Pepper said. “Morgan, can you say hi to Cam?”

The little girl turned her head and rested it on Peter. She waved at Cam. “Hi Cam,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Cam said back. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is my daughter, Morgan,” Pepper said. “She insists on coming to work with me during the summer.”

“It’s my company,” Morgan explained to Cam. “I’m going to be the CPO one day!”

“CEO, Morg,” Peter said softly.

Morgan pulled her head off his shoulder and glared at him. “That’s what I said.”

Peter laughed. “Sorry, Squirt, just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”

“You will,” Cam said to Morgan. She leaned in really close to her, then whispered: “Can I be your Vice President? When you’re the CPO?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “Yep. I’ll need someone with your, um, qual-i-fi-ca-tions.” She looked proudly at her mom after slowly pronouncing each syllable with precise annunciation.

Pepper shook her head, laughing. “Cam is definitely qualified.”

Morgan looked triumphantly at Cam. “You’re hired.”

Cam laughed. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Morgan.”

Peter chuckled, ruffling Morgan’s hair. “We gotta talk to your mom now, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, then laid her head back down on Peter’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Pepper said, folding her hands and putting them on the desk in front of her. “So, like I said, you’ll be working with Peter here doing some research for us. As I’m sure you know, Stark Industries has kind of become a, um, home for ‘superheroes,’ if you will, and we’ve begun research on one of these people’s item of choice.”

“Spider-Man’s web stuff, right?” Cam asked.

Pepper nodded. “Peter tell you in the elevator?”

“Sure did.”

“That’s exactly right. A lot of people are very interested in it, and—.”

“Excuse me? Mommy?” Morgan interrupted.

“Yes ma’am?” Pepper looked at Morgan.

“May I be excused to go potty?”

“Yes, you may, thanks for asking! Peter, will you take her?”

Morgan slid off Peter’s lap and Peter stood up. “I would be honored!” he cried. He took Morgan’s hand, then the two walked out of the room together.

Cam shifted in her chair. “So, um, Peter’s Spider-Man, right?”

Pepper pressed her lips together. “He told you too much in the elevator, huh?”

“Yes ma’am, he sure did.”

Pepper sighed. “He thinks he’s subtle about it, but he’s just excited. Please don’t tell him you know, at least not until he tells you. And act surprised when he tells you.”

“How many people know?” Cam asked.

“Um, probably everyone that works in the building. It’s a miracle he’s not all over the papers.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Cam laughed. “But it’s his web stuff we’re researching?”

“Yes. He created it himself, which is incredible to me. He’s a good kid, and he needs something to keep him occupied and safe during the summer, so I promised him and his aunt that he could work here. It’s been a rough few years for him,” Pepper said sadly. “He was very close with my husband.”

Cam nodded. Everyone knew what happened to Tony Stark.

“So just help him with what he needs,” Pepper continued. “He’s got a good little set up just down the hall. He’s essentially your boss, to be honest. It’s his project and we’re happy to fund it. If something happens, you come straight to me, okay?”

Cam nodded again. “Yes ma’am.”

The door swung open and Peter came running in with Morgan on his back, squealing in delight. He ran around the room a few times before he let her down and rejoined Cam and Pepper at the desk. Morgan ran back to her mom and crawled into Pepper’s lap.

“Alright,” Pepper said, hugging Morgan. “That’s all I have for now, Cam, unless you have any questions for me. We’ll send the chief administrator to do paperwork with you in a little bit. Otherwise, it’s all you, Peter!”

Peter grinned. “Lab time?”

Pepper smiled softly and nodded in response. Peter’s grin brightened, if it were possible.

Morgan looked up at her mom. “Mommy, can I go with Peter?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, Peter’s going to work on his special project,” Pepper explained.

“And only grown-ups are allowed in Peter’s lab,” Morgan recited, as if she’d heard it a million times before. “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I can help Peter, too!”

Pepper kissed Morgan’s head. “He’d love that, sweetheart.”

“I sure would,” Peter agreed. “But I’ll see you for our dinner date, okay Squirt?”

“Okay!” Morgan cheered. She slid off Pepper’s lap, then skipped to the corner of the room where a myriad of toys lay on the floor.

“We’ll see ya later, Pepper!” Peter claimed, standing up and walking towards the door. Cameron quickly stood up and scurried after Peter, wondering, how does he move so goddamn fast?

She was a little out of breath when she and Peter reached the lab. Peter Parker moved far quicker than he should have, and she wondered if it was because of all that Spider-Man shit. What even was the story on that?

“So here it is!” Peter proudly sang. “This is where the magic happens.”

Cam gave him a look, unamused.

Peter giggled, unphased. “So, until you get your keycard, I’ll have to key you in,” he began, swiping his badge and opening the door. The lights of the lab automatically came on, illuminating the various equipment strewn about the room. Cam gazed around, taking in everything.

Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s um, pretty sick, right?” he asked, puffing his chest up a little. “I designed the whole thing myself.”

Cam started walking around the perimeter of the room, looking in jars, reading labels, checking out the equipment. It was an impressive set up; Peter had all the latest tech in his little lab, to no one’s surprise.

“This is some pretty impressive shit, Parker,” Cam said, leaning against a counter and crossing her arms. “What do you need me here for?”

“I mean, what’s not to like about a physics and electrical engineering double major from Georgia Tech?” Peter spouted. “I didn’t even know they let you double major in those.”

“I mean,” Cam began, “they usually don’t. I had to petition them hard to let me do it. They told me, ‘If I wanted to do that I should’ve gone to MIT.’”

“What’s so bad about MIT?” Peter asked, mimicking Cam’s stance and smirking.

“It’s in the north, that’s what’s so bad about MIT. I’m a Southern girl, through and through.”

“But you’re in the north right now, aren’t you?”

“For the summer, yeah,” Cam countered. “I hate snow. I could never live up here full-time.”

Peter gaped. “You hate snow? Why?”

“It’s cold and wet and makes everything else cold and wet.” Cam shuddered at the thought of the winter in New York.

Peter continued to stare. “Wow.”

“Bet you couldn’t survive a day in a Georgia summer,” Cam challenged with a grin.

“Oh really?” Peter countered. “How so?”

“Well, y’all don’t know anything about humidity up here. At home in the middle of July, good God you can’t leave the house for a second without sweat pouring down your whole body,” Cam explained. “It can get up to 90 degrees plus one hundred percent humidity.”

“Whoa, what?” Peter was taken aback. “How is that possible?”

Cam shrugged. “Wish I knew, Parker, wish I knew. So, are we gonna, like, work?”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little disappointed.

The feeling is mutual, Cam thought. Peter Parker was a really cool dude.

“Oh, my god!” Peter laughed, walking Cameron down the street to his favorite cafe. “People in the south really say that?”

“Oh yeah,” Cam replied. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn racist comments I hear every day. It’s so blatant it’s crazy. Once, my great-grandfather met a friend of mine from upstate New York, and when I told him where she was from, he looked at her and deadass say, ‘Oh you’re a Yankee? Well I’m a rebel!’ And cackled about it.”

“Yikes,” Peter said.

“He also told me that if I brought home a black guy he’d disown me, so that was pretty cool too,” Cam said nonchalantly.

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

“Yep, you heard me exactly right. He uses the n-word with a hard ‘-er’ at the end, too, and sees nothing wrong with it. I had half a thought to bring home a black girl as a fake girlfriend just to see his reaction.”

“Wow.” Peter was blown away.

Cam shrugged. “It’s fine, he’s ninety-nine years old and we’re just waiting for him to die.”

“Cameron!” Peter gasped.

Cam didn’t regret it. It was true; her great-grandfather had lived a long, full life and he himself would tell you he’d been ready to die for thirty years.

But she also rather liked the way Peter said her full name, even though she’d never gone by ‘Cameron.’ Her parents decided she was ‘Cam’ when she was five days old. She didn’t really associate herself with the name ‘Cameron,’ but if that’s what Peter Parker wanted to call her, then she wasn’t going to stop him.

“I mean, he’s been ready to die since he turned seventy,” Cam explained.

“That’s horrible, Cam!” Peter said, holding back a laugh.

“He’s a racist old man, Peter!” Cam said in the same tone. “The south created him that way, and it’s unfortunate. The south creates a lot of people that way.”

“It didn’t create you that way,” Peter said softly.

“Well, yeah, my dad is from the north and my mom is from the south, so I had the best of both worlds. I practically grew up in Philly.”

Peter opened the cafe door for Cam and she stepped inside. “Where’s your mom from?” he asked, letting the door close behind him.

“Tuscaloosa,” she replied, heading towards a small booth in the back corner. “Her parents were Alabama graduates. She went to Georgia Tech, met my dad, stayed in Georgia.”

“Interesting,” Peter said, trailing after her. “Why’d your dad go to Tech?”

“Engineering. He’s a computer engineer, Mom’s a mechanical engineer. They make a great team.” Cam slide into the booth.

“Oh shit,” Peter said softly, sliding in across from Cam. “That’s a lot of money.”

“My parents are minimalists. We spend the money on experiences, not stuff. We understand we’re very lucky and we do what we can to help people that aren’t as lucky as we are,” she explained.

Cam and her family had personally gone on mission trips to different countries every summer since she was eight. Her mom had started an anonymous charity to bring low-cost, long-lived technology to third world countries, and when they could, the Murphy family personally took their technology to the people that needed it. In high school, Cam designed a solar-powered wheelchair specifically for rural communities. She called it “The Off-roader,” and she went with her mom to deliver it all over the world. She adored their summers abroad helping people. She always wished she could stay longer and help more.

She wanted to improve people’s lives with her degrees by making technology more accessible for the people she met on her trips. She knew about Tony Stark’s reach into renewable, sustainable energy, like his arc reactor, and she was hoping that she could utilize some of Stark’s tech and apply it to the work she’d been doing with her parents all her life. She hoped that maybe Stark Industries --and, by extension, Peter Parker-- would share her desire to help make life better for people who weren’t as lucky as she was.  

“Oh,” Peter squeaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—.”

“It’s cool,” Cam said. “A lot of people think I’m just some entitled white girl, so I’m quick to defend myself.”

“I, um,” Peter stuttered, “I don’t come from a lot of money. My parents died when I was little, so I live with my aunt. My uncle died a few years back, and since then my aunt has been doing her best to keep us afloat. Until Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice cracked, “gave me this internship, we didn’t have much. Pepper’s made sure we did okay, too, but, um, yeah. I’m rambling, yeah, but, uh, that’s why I said that.”

“You’re fine, Peter,” Cam said, smiling softly. He was such a sweetheart, she could barely stand it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be, I understand exactly where you’re coming from. I’ve been working at Stark for so long that people assume things about me, too, and I’d do the same thing.” Peter smiled back.

“You’re a pretty cool guy, Parker,” Cam said as a waiter came up to them. “This is gonna be a fun summer.”

buy me a coffee maybe? (i’m saving money for grad school!) | masterlist

tags: open!

@shutyourmoustache @dtftomholland @madmadmilk @starksparker @spiderboytotherescue @bensbuttercup @upsidedownparker @parkerpuffwrites @parkerpete @peterplanet @petersbackpack @heavenlyhollands @heavenly--osterfield @borhapparker @hollandroos @tomhollandeu @thewackywriter @musiclover1263 @sincerelymlg @paradoxparker @all-the-best-people-are-weird @printedpeterparker @starlightfound @its-obrosey-bitch @ohsweetcarol @trashqueenbitch @spidermanfarfromhome 

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

The Call (PT. 2)

Your boyfriend, Roger Taylor, leaves the club with a girl who isn’t you. Unbeknownst to him, that mystery girl is your former roommate, who you’ve convinced to try and seduce Roger to see if you were right on your suspicions of his cheating. When you catch him red-handed, you call up the one person you know would understand your troubles - Brian May.

Read PT. 1 here

Read PT. 3 here

It was 8 o’clock on the dot when Brian knocked on your door. Not wanting to seem too eager, he’d waited around in the lobby of your flat complex for 10 minutes, waiting to go up to your door. But he wouldn’t tell you that, of course. 

He was nervous for this date, partly because he had really always thought you were very sweet, and partly because he didn’t know how to navigate around the Roger situation. Brian was no stranger to the concept of eskimo brothers, but he’d never been on the offensive end of it. He had always been the observer, never the player.

“I’ll be there in a moment!” you called out, still pulling the curlers out of your hair quickly. You were running behind, but what was new?

“Take your time, love,” was Brian’s courteous reply, and you smiled as you found yourself feeling like you were hearing Brian’s voice for the first time, all over again. Maybe it was the situation that called for it, or the shots of vodka you’d done before he’d gotten there just to loosen up, but the thought of going out with Brian tonight seemed… well, right. Yes, you were still upset over Roger, but going on a date with his best friend didn’t seem like betrayal, for some reason. It felt like a relief.

Brian had always been your rock in hard times, when Roger was unable to provide emotional support – as a matter of fact, Roger was lacking empathy very seriously. You’d always gone to Brian for help if you were ever down, as did the rest of the boys. Brian was a catch-all for giving advice, no matter the subject. So, calling Brian was obviously your first move after Maggie confirmed Roger’s infidelity. Setting up a date with Brian was just a perk.

After you got your hair brushed out with your fingers, you readjusted your striped ringer tee and checked to make sure your velvet bell-bottoms were all buttoned up on the side, then hurried down the hallway to open the door.

Brian, who was actually facing away from the doorway when you opened it, turned around quickly when he heard the door creaking open. There you stood, as beautiful as ever, and he smiled at the sight of you, which made you smile in return. “Come on in, I’ve just got to find my shoes and then we can head out,” you said, opening the door wider and holding it for him as he nodded. Walking in, he stopped and gave you quick, respectable kiss on the cheek, thanking you before making himself at home in the lounge.

As you searched for your shoes in the closet, Brian leaned against the back of the couch and watched you. He was in a white button up that was only buttoned up to the middle of his torso, which peeked out suggestively at you, with a black vest and black trousers to accompany it. His usual clogs adorned his feet, and added some height to him, making him seem unusually imposing tonight.

All in all, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a modeling agency, his curls gleaming under the yellow light of your lounge. You felt horribly underdressed, but hoped that he wouldn’t mind, even though you knew deep down that he didn’t give one care in the world about whether you were dressed up enough. It was enough for him that you were going out with him tonight.

You finally located your black kitten heels and started to pull them on, Brian almost scaring you when he suddenly appeared at your side to help you balance, holding out a large, calloused hand for you. You thankfully took ahold of it and used him as stability as you pulled them on. “Thank you, Bri,” you hummed after you let go of his hand, grabbing your black afghan coat and folding it over your arm as you exited the apartment with him. Following him you, you locked the door behind the both of you and headed down to the lobby wordlessly.

As you stepped out onto the street, you realized you’d need the coat faster than you’d thought, so you pulled it on as Brian waited patiently, seeming unbothered by the chill settling in that threatened your desperate need for a walk. “Where would you like to go first, Y/N?” he asked, his hands almost perched in his vest pockets as he smiled pleasantly. You knew he was being extra nice because of the circumstances, but you still appreciated the sentiment, so you smiled graciously back at him.

“Um, well, I was thinking we could just walk for a bit, then stop when we feel like it and grab a drink and a bite to eat?” Brian nodded in agreement and held out his arm for you, which you linked your arm into with a grateful smile, and then you both began walking. Resting your free hand on Brian’s arm as well, you looked around at the city, which was bustling at this time of night.

You didn’t know what to say to start off the conversation, so you were thankful that Brian started in first. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice gentle, but not seeming nosy or intrusive. You knew he wasn’t asking this superficially, so you pursed your lips and kept your eyes ahead as you replied.

“Honestly, in this situation? I feel like I’m doing well.” Brian nodded, listening attentively as he walked side by side with you, matching your strides so that you wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up with him. “I actually figured out a while ago that he might be sneaking around on me, I was just… afraid to confront him about it.”

“You were afraid?” Brian repeated, furrowing his eyebrows as he crossed the street with you. “You don’t mean…”

“No, not of Roger. He’d never attack or hit me, he’s not like that,” you quickly reassured, squeezing his arm. “I was just worried he’d turn it around on me, I guess. So I didn’t tell anyone, except Maggie. I didn’t want to cause any problems between you all.”

“Y/N, you should have told me,” Brian scolded you lightly, looking down at you with genuine concern in his eyes. “I would have spied on him, or something, for you. I don’t give a hoot if he’s one of my best friends, you’re one of my best friends too, and best friends look out for best friends.”

You had to laugh a little at that, biting your lip for a moment. “I think you surpassed the ‘best friends’ usage quota for one sentence, Bri. Just saying.” He smirked in amusement at your teasing, shaking his head and turning the corner to head north with you, continuing to match your pace. “But I really didn’t want to worry you, Bri. I know Roger can be a pain, and I didn’t want to make it your problem. Besides, I put together the pieces by myself, so I figured that I needed to handle it mostly by myself. But I did tell Maggie about it, probably three months ago-“

“Three months?” Brian nearly choked as he realized you’d been dealing with this shit for three whole months. He stopped you and pulled you over to the shelter of a news kiosk so that you’d be out of the way of sidewalk traffic, and held your arms firmly, staring down at you, appalled. “You’ve suspected for three months and you never even let on?”

You shrugged, avoiding Brian’s gaze as you suddenly felt ashamed for not coming to him about it. “I guess I was scared that you wouldn’t believe me, Bri. I’m sorry, I really am. It was just a really emotional time for me and I wasn’t thinking straight. I had to make myself stop caring so it would stop hurting so much whenever he came home after another night of… yeah.”

“My God,” he murmured, pulling you in for a tight hug and resting his chin on your head as he reeled over the fact that you’d been hurting inside for nearly three months, and he hadn’t even noticed. It made him feel terrible for you. On top of that, it made him feel awful for being such an ignorant friend. He had assumed things were fine and dandy between you two, the way you had acted.

You turned your head to the side as you rested it against Brian’s chest, really too tired to cry anymore, so you focused on the tabloids that were posted outside of the window of the kiosk, one in particular catching your eye. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you read it, Brian following your line of sight whenever he realized you were mumbling the headline to yourself.

“Oh-“

-

“Shit!” Roger yelled, throwing the god-forsaken tabloid against Freddie’s wall. Sinking down to a crouching position, he held his head in his hands as he squeezed his eyes shut. It had blown up in his face, and nobody was to blame but himself. “I fucked up, I really fucked up. This is bad, Fred.”

Freddie, who’d been enjoying his tea until a moment ago, walked into the room and stared at Roger for a second. “What’s wrong, darling?” he asked, blissfully unaware of the magazine that was crumped up, sitting over by the wall. Roger pointed, not even looking up, and Freddie looked over to the tabloid, then walked over and picked it up. Reading the headline, he was silent for a moment. And then, he sighed. “You really screwed the pooch on this one, dear.”

“Oh really? Thank you, Fred, I wasn’t aware,” Roger spit back bitterly, slumping against the door behind him and rubbing his face. He hadn’t got any tears left to cry, all of them having dried up once he showed up on Freddie’s doorstep, all of his things packed into a couple suitcases.

“Roggie, I don’t know what to tell you,” Freddie murmured, sitting across from him on the floor and crossing his legs. There was a sympathetic look on his face, but he was well aware of what he’d been complicit in less than 24 hours ago. “You made a choice, and there are consequences. You should know that better than anyone, dear.”

Roger was quiet for a moment, then he rested his head back against the door and stared at the wall just to the left of Freddie, his face running through emotions quickly as he battled with himself inside. “God, I really do love her, Fred. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t know there were paparazzi outside that club.”

Freddie laughed incredulously, giving Roger an odd look before picking up the tabloid and looking at it again. There Roger was, attached at the hip to Maggie, who was disguised poorly with blonde hair. But Roger’s drunk goggles weren’t clever enough to pick that up. The headline read ‘Queen’s Roger Taylor a bachelor again?’

“Roger, that’s not the point,” Freddie finally reminded him. Roger knew that, he was just trying to avoid the blame, which was working poorly. “You went home with her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Roger muttered, looking down at his lap and twiddling with his fingers as he reckoned with himself – now was a better time than ever to come clean with Freddie about the past few months, but what would his dear friend think of him after this? “It’s not the first time,” he finally admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to ignore Freddie’s invasive gaze. “I’ve been sneaking around on her for a while. Like a total prick.”

“Wow,” Freddie murmured, not actually surprised by Roger’s antics. “How many times?”

“Is it bad that I don’t even know?” Roger answered ashamedly, looking up at Freddie with a pained look. “I would kiss Y/N goodbye so many times, tell her I love her, and then go screw the first gal with tits that gave me the time of day. I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me, Freddie, but I kept doing it. It was like a game for me after a certain point, but I still love her, and I loved her the whole time I was doing this. I just couldn’t stop, and I felt like a fraud every time I told her I loved her, even if I really meant it…”

Freddie wasn’t sure what to say, so he remained quiet, letting Roger ramble on about his infidelity and get it all out as he listened. He didn’t interrupt, he didn’t judge, he just sat there and nodded as Roger spoke, letting him vent. Because if he did speak, he knew he wouldn’t be as sympathetic as Roger wanted him to be. He felt he’d run out his sympathies just by letting him stay in his home, and he was realizing quickly that his patience was already wearing thin with Roger’s inability to accept responsibility for what he’d done.

When Roger grew quiet, Freddie pursed his lips and mulled over all he’d just heard. “Roger, I hate to be a downer, darling, but from what it sounds like, you’ve got some issues that I just can’t solve. You’ll have to work these out yourself and trust in yourself to make the right decision.”

Roger nodded, rubbing his jaw as he fought the urge to look at the tabloid again, just to give himself a punch in the gut for what he’d done to you. “I’m not sure I can trust myself to make the right decision after all this. I’m a fucking nightmare, Fred, and my brain is fucked.”

“You know, you could always talk to Brian. He’d have more than enough to say.”

-

Remarkably, it only hurt a bit at first to see Roger’s arm around Maggie. You were hoping to remain completely detached from the situation, but seeing this wasn’t initially as painful as you’d expected it to be.  Still, it began to hurt, a small, dull pain in your heart that was spreading throughout your body. You couldn’t feel much anymore, and you clutched onto the back of Brian’s vest for dear life, barely hearing as he spoke to you and ushered you away from the kiosk.

“I didn’t know news would be out that fast,” he murmured to you, now afraid to draw attention to himself, wondering if there were paparazzi nearby at this moment. “Maybe we shouldn’t be out right now, we can go back to mine. Or yours, wherever you want to go, it’s okay. I just think maybe we need to lay low, especially after… that.”

You nodded, not really registering what he was saying, one hand still clinging onto his vest like it was all you had left. Brian quickly ushered you back the way you’d just came, all the way to his car, where he loaded you in the passenger seat with extra care before crossing around to the driver’s side and climbing in. For a moment, he just sat there, key in the ignition, searching for the words to say to you. Although he’d been delighted to finally have gotten that second date earlier today, now he was thinking he’d acted a bit rashly.

“Are you afraid to be seen with me, Brian?” you asked quietly, looking forward at the car in front of you. Brian sighed, turning the car on and pulling out of his parking spot as he began to drive to his flat across the city.

“I’m not ashamed of you, Y/N. I just think us being pictured on a date together the night after Roger is off with Maggie is giving them exactly what they want.”

“They?” you questioned, looking over at Brian for a clarification.

“The press,” he muttered, his eyes only drifting away from the road to glance at you for a second. It broke his heart to see you like this, so dazed and unsure of yourself. It was almost like you were watching yourself from outside of your body, controlling your movements and words with puppet strings and a microphone. “Oh, Y/N,” he murmured gloomily, reaching over to take your hand and squeeze it tightly.

You wrapped your other hand around his, staring down at it and flipping it over so you could see his palm clearly. He let you, unsure of what you were doing, but figuring it wouldn’t hurt to let it happen. Tracing your index finger along the lines in his palm for the rest of the ride, you distracted yourself with this mundane task to try and forget the image of Roger with another woman, with his arm around her waist tightly, his face buried in her hair, but you couldn’t. The image was burned into your mind, and it began to haunt you as Brian helped you out of the car and up to his flat. It didn’t matter that you’d asked Maggie to do this – in fact, her presence in the picture didn’t bother you at all. It was how remorseless Roger looked, how easily he’d forgotten you in that moment.

Upon entering, you shed yourself of your heels and coat, and Brian put them up safely in the closet. You slowly walked over to his couch, Brian joining you as you sat. Resting your head against his shoulder, you stared at the blank TV as he slowly ran his fingers through your hair, brushing it back and kissing the top of your head in an attempt to console you.

“Want to have a movie night instead? I’ve just bought The Great Gatsby on videotape, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest too.”

You looked up at Brian, who pulled back at bit to look at you properly. Worry lined his features, making him look 10 years older at the moment, but it also made you momentarily forget why you were upset. It felt reassuring to know that at least someone genuinely cared about you throughout all of this.

Smiling faintly, you nodded at his suggestion, then sat up to let him up. He stood, his tall frame towering over you as he scooted by to go grab the tapes from the shelves on your right.

As you watched him, you quietly admired the way he held himself, and the eternally curious look he had in his eyes. His eyes flitted between the titles of his tapes, searching carefully, and he absentmindedly chewed on his lip as he browsed, leaving his lower lip swollen and extra pink when he let it go. He was so different from Roger, but still managed to be familiar on the opposite side of a spectrum, and you liked that a lot about him. While Roger was shorter, more fiery, and forward, Brian hung back in a sort of intellectual manner. He was more controlled, more focused, and had his own kind of unique beauty to him. It was a dormant kind of handsome, something that just smoldered but could come alive with the right fuel. It relaxed you. It felt comfortable.

Brian shrugged off his vest, completely ignorant to the fact that you were basically staring at him, and that made you realize that you were quickly going to get uncomfortable if you both stayed in your bell-bottoms. So, you stood up and hugged yourself, heading back towards his bedroom.  “I’m going to borrow some comfy clothes, is that alright?” you asked, Brian glancing at you and nodding before going back to searching for his new videotapes.

You padded back to his room, walking straight over to his drawers and pulling out the first pair of shorts you saw. Unfortunately, they seemed like they were denim, and they weren’t going to be that comfortable, so you sighed and looked over the rest, which appeared to be the same. You resorted to a red pair of boxers, slipping out of your pants and into his boxers.

As you walked back out into the living room, you caught Brian’s eye. “I thought you were borrowing clothes,” he remarked, smirking at you as you plopped back down in your original seat. You shrugged and laid across the couch, one leg dangling off as you watched him. “I don’t remember granting access to my britches.”

“Boxers count as clothing, yeah?” you asked, Brian thinking about it for a moment before pouting.

“Oh, shut it.” You took that as a signal you were right, and you grinned widely, completely forgetting your upset state just minutes before. Brian tended to have that effect on you – he was remarkably good at empathizing, then directing your emotions to a more positive place so that the experience was more diverting and less depressing. In fact, that’s probably exactly why he’d been upset with you for not coming to him about Roger earlier.

“Aha!” he finally said, pulling out The Great Gatsby and going over to crouch in front of the TV as he started to set up the movie. You watched him lazily, feeling like it was the old days when you’d have movie nights after a long day of studying for exams, and you were almost reluctant to get up when you heard the doorbell ring. “That’s odd,” Brian remarked, standing up at the same time as you did and following you over to the door. “I don’t think I had any other dates lined up for tonight,” he joked, tickling your sides gently as you got to the door.

You giggled as you reached for the handle, rolling your eyes melodramatically as you looked back at him and grinned. You then opened the door, still looking back at Brian as you stuck out your tongue, but his face went pale as he looked up to see who his visitor was. Your blood ran cold at the horrified look on his face, and you quickly whipped your head around to come face to face with a disheveled Roger, whose bloodshot eyes were quickly flashing between wanting to cry again and wanting to strangle both you and the tall man behind you.

PT. 1 PT. 3

taglist - @crosmopolitan  @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @wandering-at-midnight @obsessedwithrogertaylor @fruityfreddie

[shestillhasherquill]

At the Heart of Darkness (1/11)

Hoorayy! It's time for my Captain Swan Big Bang fic's grand reveal. I am soooo excited for every one to read this. But before that, I would be remiss if I do not thank the Mods for organising this event. Go check out the other great fics and artwork on their tumblr: @captainswanbigbang​ They were so understanding when I had to miss a check-in and gave me an extension. I never thought I'd finish this story after I lost my dad, because there is A LOT of Father-Daughter content in this, but I pushed through because I wanted to get this fic out there. I love the idea, and I know it might not appeal to some people, what with Alice in the fic. To those people, I say: 'I respect your likes and dislikes. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Respect that I do, and I don't want negative comments or drama. Thank you.'

I can't thank Maggie aka @accio-ambition​ enough. She was more than my Beta, she was my bae-ta. She pushed me and yelled at me and got stressed out for me, while I chilled out. She has made me question myself and correct myself and been the best GD cheerleader in the world. I LOVE YOU, MAN. Most of the fic was panic written and if it weren't for @accio-ambition​ and @sambethe​ this would be a mess.

A HUGE SHOUTOUT to @sambethe​ for being a second beta practically, on top of being my artist, who made a KICKASS BANNER and a bunch of art that I CANNOT wait for you all to see. She's just the best, most understanding and kind-of always put up with my anxiety rants. Thanks, babe. Check out her original artwork post!

ALSO @downeystarkjr​ made 2 VIDEOS OF THIS FIC WHAT I'm crying you guys. They are amazing, she's amazing and just asdfghjkl; time for fic guys.

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel

AO3/FF.net

Prologue

“Papa, are you listening to me?”

“Of course, starfish. When am I not?” Killian answered, turning from the book he was reading and toward his daughter. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her dangling from a wooden beam by just her fingertips. “Alice Jones, get down this instant.”

“Will you catch me, Papa?” she called out, giggling. Suddenly everything around them turned dark, and Killian could hardly see. His panic rose, as he called out to his daughter. “Alice? Alice, answer me, love!”

“Papa, catch me. Catch me, Papa.” That was all he heard, echoing around him. “Don’t let me fall, Papa. Don’t leave me!” Alice’s voice grew from playful to frightful, the echoes growing fainter and fainter by the minute. Killian tried walking through the darkness, but it seemed Alice was moving farther away from him in the endless night. He was surrounded by it, like he was lost at sea.

A moment later, he could not hear her voice at all. “Alice? Alice! Where are you, darling? ALICE!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

Killian gasped awake, eyes shooting wide and hands grabbing tight on his sheets. It was that dream again, about the girl - Alice. Papa, she called him, but he did not have a daughter that he knew of. He had been having these dreams for years, and they never made any sense. He always woke up filled with an inexplicable desperation, like he needed to get back to that strange girl.

Every doctor he had been to had said the same thing - they were just dreams. How else could he explain the strange surroundings he found himself in during these dreams. Most times it was with this young girl, Alice, in some kind of a room, high up in a tower. Sometimes, there was another blonde woman, but he has never seen her face. He could not pick her out of a line-up if he had to, in all honesty. But unlike the dreams with the girl, whenever he dreamed of that woman, he woke up crying and his chest hurting.

There were days that he cursed these dreams - they remind him just how truly alone he was in this world. He had a brother once, who he served with in the Navy, but that seemed like it was centuries ago. He did not have a daughter, nor did he know blonde woman like the one plaguing his dreams. He had no one. Why would his mind taunt him so? Show him this life, in this strange land - when all he had was a 20-year sober chip and a job that doesn’t necessarily require him to stay in one place. He’d been searching, going from city to city, town to town, looking for a place to call home.

He’d been in this seaside town for the past two months, and as much as he enjoyed how quaint it was, it just didn’t feel right. Not that he could tell anyone what was - all he knew was he would feel it the moment it was right - he would have found home. Whatever this town was, it was not that.

Killian sighed, trying to put the dream out of his mind, slipping out of bed, grabbing his phone on the way. He punched in his agent’s number, putting him on speaker as he went about starting his morning brew.

“Hello, Jones. Which part of the world are you calling from now?” came Will’s voice, an undertone of exasperation barely concealed.

“I’m still in England, Will,” Killian replied, rolling his eyes. “No need to be an arse so early in the morning.” He turned on the coffee maker, grabbing his phone off the countertop. “Did you get the new chapters I sent you a couple of days ago?”

“Ah, that. Yes, I did. Great work, man. They are great, just a few notes from your editor. I’m sending you an e-mail about it as we speak. But we are quite ahead of schedule so far.”

“Good, good,” Killian mumbled. “I might be leaving this town soon. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Colour me surprised. What is right, Jones? You’ve been travelling like a fucking hermit.” Will’s tone was starting to grate on Killian’s nerves.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Sanders.” Killian scowled at the wall. He did not need yet another person questioning his decisions - he was doing enough of that himself.

There was a tense silence over the phone before Will finally spoke. “All right. I don’t have any rights to question how you live your life. Just remember that once you’re done with this book, you need to do at least some touring and book signings.”

Killian resisted the urge to groan. As much as he enjoyed the life of leisure being a published author offered, the public appearances and PR were his least favorite part of his job.

“Yes, I remember. There’s still time for that, is there not? I’ll be back stateside in three months.”

“For good? Or just for the book?”

“Well, it’s not to see your ugly mug, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, Will.” And with that dismissal, he hung up. He fixed himself a cup of coffee, carrying it over to his designated work station. He passed a mirror on the way, pausing to stare at his reflection. He stared at it long and hard, trying to find any change in it, but he didn’t. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. The same face he has been staring at for the past 20 years - nothing has changed. He realised this little fact about himself a few years ago. He has not aged a day in 20 years. He does not remember what triggered it - he does not remember much, if he was brave enough to admit it. His memory of the past 20 years are pristine, he could remember every single detail. But before that? It was all a blur, like a dream. One could only laugh at that irony: somehow his dreams seem more real than his past.

He shook his head, walking away from the mirror and sitting at his desk. Taking a long sip from his mug, he pulled his sketchpad towards him, grabbing a spare bit of charcoal and scratching out a rough portrait of the girl from his dreams, etching her image on paper, hoping to trigger something that would make him understand why he kept seeing her, why she called him ‘Papa’. And who the mysterious blonde was.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

Killian was woken from his slumber by soft murmuring around him. “Swan, settle down and go back to sleep, love,” he grumbled, reaching for his lady-love with an outstretched arm. They were finally able to convince Alice to stay the night with Smee while they stole a night to themselves.

When his arm met the sheets covering their bed at the inn where they’d spent the night, instead of Emma’s soft skin, his eyes flew open. He scrambled out of bed, reaching for his trousers when he heard her laughter. He turned around, pants hanging loosely around his hips, unlaced and held up with just his hand. There she sat, in one corner of the room, wearing his shirt - and naught else - a book in her hand. “You’re- you’re reading?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hook. I was brought up a princess, you know,” she teased, sliding out of her perch, the book landing on the floor with a thud.

He grabbed her when she was within arms’ reach, hand curling on her hip, lips grazing hers gently. “Aye, I know, Princess.” He pulled back before she could deepen their kiss. “I am a little hurt that you chose to read a book, when you could have woken me up. We could have engaged in more, ah..enjoyable activities.” When he noticed her hesitation, he felt his insecurities flare up - it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. In fact, that wretched witch was the last person he had been intimate with. He backed away a little from Emma, his arms dropping to his side. “Unless, of course it wasn’t enjoyable for you, love. I- it has been a while.”

“Oh, no, no. Killian, no,” Emma was quick to assure him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “No, last night was perfect. You were perfect, I promise.” Her cheeks tinted lightly at the boyish grin that took over his face. She turned back to grab the large tome before she faced him again. “I was reading this - a grimoire. I wanted to see if I could find some way to break Alice out of that tower. I’ve been doing my own research, but I did not want to tell you and Alice before I found something concrete. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Killian felt his throat close up, his heart clenching at her gesture. He had always known that Emma cared for his Alice almost as much as he did - it was because of his love for Alice that it took him almost a year to warm up to Emma’s presence in their lives. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things.

“I- I couldn’t give up. I know I promised I would be more careful with my magic, but I just...,” Emma shrugged, trialing off, having mistook his silence for anger.

He was quick to reassure her, pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Emma. I do not know what Alice and I would do without you in our lives,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

He felt Emma’s smile against his chest, her arms clenched tight around the book. “You never have to find out.”

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

There were so many things Killian was grateful for, but the internet had to be the most important. It was much easier to find a great place to stay, that still afforded him the solitude that he craved, thanks to the wonder of AirBnB. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he walked down the small hill his lone house was on, his reusable shopping bag and notebook keeping him company. As much as he has moved around, he was still a creature of habit. He had made himself the same dinner every Saturday - a pot of hot stew and some marmalade sandwiches for a light snack later. And every Friday, like today, he would walk into town, hit up the local markets and do a spot of shopping. Then, he would spend the day people watching, sitting at the benches in the city center. He would describe everything he saw around him - from the changing weather, to the street musicians playing their tune. The sight of the fresh fruits and vegetables at the market; the ruckus created by students who had survived yet another week. All of it, he would note down - he would build his own stories, even.

He might fool everyone, sometimes even himself, into thinking all of this was for research. But he had been doing this for as long as he could remember, as if he was writing things for someone stuck in a prison, hoping that his writing would provide them with some semblance of the world outside. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t done this - but he had no one to share these stories with. So even as he filled notebook after notebook, each of various shape and size, some leather bound with parchment paper, some of them scraps of napkins bound together - even as he recorded everything, the only purpose it served was collecting dust at the house he had in Atlanta - the one and only residence he has had throughout his adult life. The same one he had bought twenty years ago, a quaint blue house with a wraparound porch and a white picket fence, waiting for the day it will be called ‘home’.

And so like clockwork, Killian sat at his usual bench, his view of the town unencumbered from this point, and observed the ongoings. Somehow, this time, his heart was not in it. His dreams had become more frequent recently, and he was loathe to go back on the pills he had been prescribed. They stopped the dreams completely, but that made him feel even worse, even more alone. As much as the dreams - and their characters - haunted him, their absence made it harder for him to survive his lonely existence.

Will had told him over the years that if only he would put himself out there, if only he would come out of his shell and interact, even if it was to simply make a friend, he would feel much better. But he never felt inclined to; he felt like he was supposed to be miserable. He was used to this feeling, and somehow, letting go of it seems unfathomable.

He snapped himself from where his thoughts drifted to, his gaze refocusing on what was in front of him. And the moment his vision became clear, the first thing he saw was the same head of blonde hair from his dreams, disappearing around the corner. He blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He stood immediately, squinting at the lane where he caught the glimpse of the blonde - hair the exact shade of spun gold as from his dreams. His bag and notebook forgotten, he took off in her direction.

For so long, he had been struggling with thoughts that maybe his dreams were more than just that, but had dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as they had come. But something in his heart told him to follow the blonde, that maybe she might help - whether it was to break the illusion or to strengthen it, he wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the outcome to be either.

He went around the corner he had seen her turn, which led him down a tiny alley. The only place that seemed to be open was an antiquities shop, with a single flickering light on at the display window. Alice and her ‘round the world Wonders, the sign read.

“Alice…” he whispered softly to himself, his incredulity evident. “It can’t be.” He pushed through the door, the bell above the door ringing through the empty shop.

“Hello?” he called out, suddenly feeling a little breathless, as if in anticipation. He waited with bated breath, but no one turned up for a whole two minutes. Just as he was about to call out again, someone pushed past the curtains, stepping through.

Killian felt disappointment settle in his chest when he saw the woman who walked into the room. She was definitely blonde, but she was not the woman from his dreams, of that he was certain. All the built up anticipation of the past few minutes drained out of him. He simple stared at her unable to do much more than force a smile in return to her smiling at him. He was certain the woman he’d seen turn down the alley had been her, but it was not the woman from the shop.

She was dressed plain enough, but her heavy array of braids gave her an air of eccentricity; and as friendly and welcoming as she seemed to think her smile was, it made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up.

“Can I help you?” she asked him, approaching the counter.

As much as he wanted to bolt from this shop, and from this woman, he had a feeling she might have some answers for him. “Erm, no. I was simply looking around,” he replied after a long pause. He turned around, pretending to be interested in an old windmill, running his finger over the blades. “Curious name your shop’s got,” he commented. “Alice… is that you?” he asked, smiling and hoping that she wouldn’t suspect anything, before turning away.

He noticed her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on her face. “Ah, no. I knew an Alice, a very long time ago. The name just felt fitting.” She waited a beat before adding, “I’m Eloise. And you’re Killian Jones.”

Hackles raised, he turned to face her again, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “How do you know my name?”

He could have sworn he saw her smirk, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “I’m a huge fan of your books - the life of a pirate captain and all that.”

Killian was not entirely convinced by her answer, but he had no real reason to doubt her, save for an odd gut feeling. “I did not realise you’d recognise me.”

“Yes, you do look a bit different with the beard,” Eloise commented. “But not unrecognisable.”

Something in the way she phrased it made Killian feel like he was under sharp scrutiny. Whatever he was looking for, this Eloise seemed to have a whole other agenda, one he was not going to wait around and watch play out. “I should get going. But it was nice to meet you Eloise.” Killian started retreating, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I would be really happy if you took a token of appreciation. Your stories mean a lot to me, especially the Princess you write about.”

“The Swan Princess?” he asked, unable to help himself. He felt a strong tug in his chest when he said those words, as if it recognised who he was talking about. But that was impossible: the Swan Princess was just a character that he had made up.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he simply said,“I am really glad you like my work, lass. I appreciate it. But I must get going.”

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you long.” Eloise pulled a painting from under the counter, holding it out to Killian.

He stepped closer, looking at the painting of a ship in the middle of the ocean depicted in the calm before the storm. As mesmerising as the painting itself was, he was more concerned with the signature at the bottom - Alice.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Who is Alice?”

Eloise brows furrowed in concern at his harsh tone. “Mr. Jones, I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. But I simply wanted to give you this painting because it reminds me of your stories. As for Alice...well, she did make this. But I’m afraid she’s not with us anymore.”

Rationally, Killian knew that there was no way that the Alice Eloise spoke of was the girl from his dreams. But his heart clenched just hearing that. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, walking away from Eloise and her store, leaving the painting behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eloise’s startled expression slipped into a smirk. “Oh, I finally found you, Captain Hook,” she whispered. She flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and headed into the backroom again.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Do you really think it is a good idea to keep this from Alice?” Emma asked, biting her lip. “She might want to know - she was vying for this.”

“As much as I want to shout from the mountain tops how much I care about you, Emma - and it is a lot, believe you me, lass - I just do not want her to think this is more than it is.” When he saw Emma’s face fall, he wanted to kick himself for how he phrased it. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, love. I don’t want any kind of pressure on you, and if we tell Alice, she might think that we are-”

“So let her,” Emma said, cutting him off. She stepped up to him, her eyes meeting his determinedly. “There’s no pressure here, but I’m in this for the long haul, Killian Jones. If that scares you, well, I-” She huffed, losing steam. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel - and I will end up defeating you.”

Killian grinned widely at her, kissing her chastely. “Aye, I have no doubt you will, darling. I would gladly surrender to you, Your Highness.”

Emma flushed, slapping his arm lightly. “Are you ready to tell your daughter that she will soon be free?” Emma could swear that the smile that took over her pirate’s face rivaled even the bright rays of the sun.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

“Ms. Swan? I think I found the man that you have been looking for.” Emma sat up straight at that. While she had hoped utilizing Mr. Castle’s private investigation services would come to fruition, she had not realised it would be quite this soon. If she had realised how efficient this land’s resources were, she would have relied on them much earlier.

“Are you sure? Killian Jones?” she asked, starting to pace.

“Ms. Swan, Killian Jones is quite a famous writer. I am not unfamiliar with who he is.” Emma could almost hear his condescension. “But he is elusive and an extremely private person, so he was a bit harder to track down.”

“But you did, did you not? Track him down?” Emma asked, irritated by Castle dragging the issue.

“Of course, as I assured you. He’s in a small town in south-eastern England. He is coming back to the United States in three months for a book tour.”

Emma’s elation was unparalleled to anything else in the world. She clutched the ring hanging around her neck tight, as tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. Do you have an address?”

Once she had hung up on the call with Castle, she let a few tears fall - tears of joy, of course, but of sorrow as well. She had to bring him back to all the chaos and pain that he had left. She had to bring him back before she had the cure she’d promised him. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, an echo of pain and frustration running parallel to her own emotions. It had been twenty years, but she would never get used to this connection she had with Killian - a curse and a blessing all in one; her life was tied to his in many ways, and being able to sense his feelings was the cruelest of it all.

She could still remember so clearly the day they had parted, could feel the flow of the energy as he linked their lives together; she was unable to age, just like all Dark Ones. Because of him, her light magic was forever corrupted now. She hated him for that: she hated him for leaving her with all the pain and the memories, while he walked into another world, without her, without Alice, and without his memories. But she could never hate him more than she loved him. Emma touched the ring again, her heart settling as she remembered his promise to her - the promise of a happy future, no matter how long it took them to get there. She had made him a promise in turn - to find a way to cure him of the darkness that plagued his soul - and to not come for him before then.

Unfortunately, Gothel had a more sinister plot in mind. After two decades, she had managed to break free of her bonds. Emma had no choice to come for him before that wretched witch found him. Killian was not the only reason Emma had come, of course. There was another person she needed to save, but she knew she had to find Killian Jones first. He would be the only one who could get Alice back.

-/-

Eloise waved at the back wall of her store, sparks of dark magic expelling from her hand. The wall shimmered before disappearing completely, revealing an elaborate garden on the other side, with a glass coffin in the middle, covered in vines. She walked up to it, her hand running over the vines, watching as they retreated at her touch.

“Oh, Alice, dear. You’ve been resting for quite a while, haven’t you?” she whispered, not a hint of remorse in her voice. She stared down at the slumbering girl, looking child-like and peaceful in her spell-struck state. “I just can’t have you meddling in my plans, dear. Your father can’t be compromised, not until I can get my hand on his dagger.”

[latetothegreysparty]

Enough Part 8

Well, I finally managed to finish up this chapter of Enough that has been sitting partially finished in my documents for weeks now. If you need a refresher because it’s been forever since I updated, links to the previous chapters can be found in my master post.

Enough Part 8

Amelia pulled the door to her apartment open and had Maggie enveloped in her arms before Maggie even realized what had happened. “Thank you so much for watching him while I go in today,” Amelia gushed. “I technically don’t have to go in, but DeLuca made it sound like the sky was falling, and I’d rather my department not be on fire when I get back.”

Maggie smiled as she pulled back out of Amelia’s arms. “Don’t mention it. I’m off today, but Jackson’s working, so I have nothing else to do. Besides, I’ve barely gotten to see Teddy at all. I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to hang out with one of my favorite nephews.”

“Don’t get too attached, Mags, this is just until he finds a more permanent home.”

Maggie scoffed. “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine? Now can you show me where his stuff is so you can get going?”

10 minutes later, Amelia and Maggie were emerging from the nursery. “Oh, and there are extra clothes for him in the dryer that are clean. I just haven’t gotten around to folding them yet. You shouldn’t need them, but you never know with Teddy. Some days he’s a spit up machine.”

Maggie gave Amelia a gentle shove in the direction of the door. “Go,” she said firmly. “I’ve watched babies before. I have some idea what I’m doing. We’ll be fine for a couple hours. Do what you need to do, and don’t worry about us.”

Amelia pulled open the door, stepped through it, and smiled back at Maggie. “Thank you so much. I owe you.”

Maggie laughed. “Yes you do. For this and many other things.” Amelia didn’t even bother responding. Instead, she stepped through the door, walked out to her car, and headed down the road toward Grey-Sloan.

Amelia was pleasantly surprised by the state of affairs in the department of neurosurgery. After her phone call with DeLuca, she had been expecting them to be preparing for a dressing down from Bailey. After reviewing the stuff that needed her attention, though, Amelia found that the bumps in the road they’d encountered were minor. She had been able to handle everything in an hour, and now she was ready to leave the hospital. Well, she was ready to leave the hospital until she encountered Meredith.

“There you are!” Meredith called loudly from across the hall. Amelia waved and crossed the hall to talk to Meredith. “What’s going on, Amelia?” Meredith prodded, though her smile told Amelia she wasn’t actually upset. “You didn’t show up to work for three weeks, and then Maggie came home one night and told me you had a baby living in your house. Is this your version of a mid-life crisis? Because this is weird, Amelia. People who are having a mid-life crisis quit their jobs or buy sports cars. They don’t disappear from the face of the earth and acquire a baby. That’s weird.”

Amelia didn’t even know which part of that rant she should address. She figured she’d start with the easiest point to address. “It’s not a mid-life crisis,” she argued. “I’m too young for that.”

Meredith rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So were you ever going to tell me about this baby? Or was it just Maggie’s big mouth that gave you away?”

Amelia winced. “I told her to tell you. I meant to tell you myself, but then things got crazy. You wouldn’t believe how wild things can get when you’re by yourself with a newborn.”

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Really, you think I wouldn’t?”

Once again, Amelia found herself wincing. “Oh, right, Ellis. I guess you would.”

“Maggie says you’ve only had him for a week or two, but you’ve been off work for three weeks. That means you must have known for a little while before you got him. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I was afraid you all would judge me!” Amelia said far more emphatically than she had meant to. “I knew if I told everyone all I would hear was, ‘There goes Amelia again. She’s already tried drugs and moving around the country a few times, so I guess she was due for a different kind of craziness to spice things up a bit.’ I was freaked out enough, I didn’t need all of you people jumping down my throat.”

To her surprise, Meredith smiled kindly. “Do you know the story of how we got Zola?” Meredith asked.

Amelia nodded slowly, not entirely sure where this was going. “Yeah, she was a patient at the hospital and then you and Derek adopted her. Why, what does that have to do with anything?”

Meredith laughed. “That’s not the full story, though. Derek fell in love with her the first day he met her. That’s when he decided that he wanted to adopt her. Then he convinced me, and all of a sudden Zola was in our house. I couldn’t really judge you for taking in a baby so quickly when Derek and I did the same thing.” Amelia smiled at Meredith’s admission, but Meredith wasn’t done yet. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s just a Shepherd thing to see a random kid in the hospital and decide to take them home. You come by your craziness honestly.” Amelia had to laugh at that. It wouldn’t have felt like an honest conversation with Meredith if it didn’t include some sort of teasingly sarcastic remark in an attempt to diffuse an emotional situation.

“Thanks for understanding,” Amelia said quietly.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, just don’t ask me to hug you now,” Meredith said warily, but the tiny smirk she wore belied her bemusement.

“Of course not,” Amelia agreed. “Anyway, I should probably get going. Maggie’s on baby duty for me right now, but I’ve asked her for so many favors lately that I’ve lost count, so getting home promptly is probably the least I could do.” With one last smile and goodbye, the two parted ways and set out in opposite directions down the hallway.

Amelia was about to pull out her phone and text DeLuca about a few last minute thoughts when she noticed a familiar redhead coming in her direction. “Owen!” she called. He looked up from his phone and made eye contact. She noticed immediately that his eyes widened and he had the beginnings of a blush. She picked up her pace before he could run away from her like he had the last couple of times she’d seen him. “Can we chat for a minute?” she asked as she approached him.

He looked like he wanted so badly to decline her offer and head for the hills, but he sighed softly and replied: “Sure.”

“Great,” she said with rather forced enthusiasm. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to talk to her. This conversation was likely to be uncomfortable. She glanced around the area until her eyes landed on an empty bench. “Do you want to go sit on that bench?” she asked, gesturing to the seating she’d spotted.

“Sure,” he replied again. Apparently he wasn’t just acting awkward, he was also far from talkative. This conversation was likely to be very uncomfortable.

Once she’d situated herself on the bench next to Owen, Amelia turned to face him. She regarded him silently for a moment while she decided how to open the conversation. Given that he didn’t seem inclined to be overly communicative, she decided that being frank and to the point had the best chance of getting him to engage with her. “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked without preamble.

Once again, his eyes widened and a blush overtook his cheeks. “I’m not avoiding you,” he replied far too quickly and effusively to be convincing. “I’m just, um, really busy right now.”

She laughed softly. “You don’t have a poker face, Owen. Every time I run into you, you look like you’re about to shit your pants. Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something?”

He sighed. “You’re stressed,” he began. “You have a lot on your plate right now, I’m sure you’re really tired, and you’re stressed. You don’t need to have this conversation right now.”

She huffed in frustration. “Your evasion is adding to my stress,” she snapped. “So if you’re so concerned about my stress, would you please just tell me what in the hell is going on?”

He exhaled heavily, defeated. “All of this is very difficult for me,” he said quietly.

Despite her attempts to abate it, the frustration was building inside of her. His answers were short and clipped, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. “All of what?” she asked with a bit more exasperation than she’d meant to.

He stared off ahead, eyes glossing over with an emotion she couldn’t identify. “You starting a family,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He didn’t turn to look at her, but he could see in the corner of his line of vision that her mouth had dropped open slightly. She was getting ready to respond, so he start speaking again quickly so that he could explain. “When we were married, you told me you wanted a family. That was the most perfect thing you ever could have said because I wanted one more than anything. Then you thought you were pregnant, you freaked out, and you left my home. You left our home. You didn’t explain anything, you just left.”

He turned to face her now, and he could see that her back had gone rigid. He could tell she was feeling defensive. He’d fully expected that. Once again, he rushed to continue his explanation in the interest of getting it all out at once. “I know you’ve had problems before with motherhood, Amelia. I’m not angry that you struggled with that when we were married. But you left our home, you wouldn’t talk to me about any of it, and I had to hang in limbo until the next crisis came along and put our pregnancy issues on the back burner. To this day, I still don’t know what happened. And that’s okay. I’m not asking for an explanation. You were right when we talked before: we’re not married anymore, and you don’t owe me an explanation.”

Her face was softening a bit, but he still had more to say, so he forged onward. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me anything. You know how much I’ve always wanted a family. You know how much it hurt me when you changed your mind and moved out. So you must understand how hard it is to watch you take in a baby when the ink is barely dry on our divorce papers. This is what I’ve always wanted, Amelia, more than anything. When we hit that rough patch in our marriage, I thought that you had changed your mind and didn’t want a family anymore. That hurt a lot, and it wasn’t easy to accept, but I was working on it. What’s killing me right now is realizing that you do want a family, but apparently you just don’t want one with me.”

She flinched as if she’d been slapped, and then the tears started flowing without her consent. She didn’t know if she’d ever felt so awful in her life. When she’d gotten high and said terrible things to the people she loved, she at least had the consolation that the drugs had changed her and caused her to say things that she never would have said sober. But what was her excuse here? “Owen, no,” she said, voice cracking through her tears. “The issues I had with having a baby when we were married had nothing to do with you. You can’t think that.”

Now a few stray tears were beginning to collect in Owen’s eyes as well. This was every bit as painful as he’d thought it would be. “How could I not think that?” he whispered. “How could I watch you finally decide to start a family right after we’d just gotten divorced and not think that?”

The pain in his voice sent a fresh wave of anguish ripping through Amelia, and she scrambled to come up with something to say. “I really didn’t think I was ready to start a family. Honestly. I thought I’d never get past the pain of my son. Then everything with Teddy slid into place before my eyes, and he was coming home with me before I knew it. I never meant for this to happen; it just did. And I really wish that it had happened when we’d still been married because Teddy deserves a man like you to love him.”

Owen studied Amelia. It really felt like she was telling him the truth, and he wanted so badly to believe what she was saying, but he couldn’t get rid of the pain he felt at seeing her with that perfect little baby. He had no idea where to go from here. “I believe you, I really do,” he said softly, “but I need you to understand how much this hurts. This isn’t something I can get past overnight. It hurts to watch you with him, and it will probably be that way for a while. I need you to give me some time and some space.”

She drew in a shaky breath. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She didn’t want the man she cared most about to be hurt when he saw her with the little boy who had wormed his way into her heart. She wanted him to be there to laugh at the face Teddy made when he was hungry and take advantage of how cuddly Teddy got when he was tired. She didn’t want this piece of her life that was filling so many holes inside of her to be carving holes into him.

Nonetheless, his explanation had made sense. She’d been too caught up in her own issues to stop and think about how this would affect him, but after listening to what he’d said, it all made sense. Though she wanted so badly for Owen to want to spend time with her and Teddy, she knew it wasn’t fair to ask that of him. “I understand,” she whispered, a few tears still lingering in her eyes. “I’ll, uh, I’ll try to keep my distance for a little while if you think that will help.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She nodded her acknowledgement. She stared at the wall across from her for a few long moments before speaking up again. “Owen?”

“Hmm?” he answered, her voice having jarred him from his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry all of this hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Those two words comforted her and broke her heart all at once. Unsure what else there was to say here, she stood up from the bench. “I should be going,” she said, already tossing her handbag over her shoulder. She was about to walk away, but something made her turn back toward him and open her arms. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. “I really am sorry,” she whispered softly.

“Me too,” came his barely audible response. Another few tears leaked from her eyes. She stepped back out of his arms before she could really begin to cry in earnest. She stared intently at him, two sad pairs of blue eyes holding each other captive before she finally turned and began to head toward the doors.

Amelia struggled mightily the entire way home to quell the tears that continued to flow down her face, but they just kept coming. This kind of despair was something she’d never felt before. Sure, she’d felt hurt and guilty and angry with herself before, but this was entirely new. She couldn’t recall ever having hurt someone so badly without having any idea what she was doing while she was doing it. The anguish and self-loathing made her want to crawl out of her skin. Try as she might to pull herself out of her own swirling thoughts as she walked up to her apartment, her conversation with Owen seemed to have a relentless hold on her mind and heart. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted by the time she opened the door and trudged back into her apartment, still wiping tears from her eyes as she shut the door behind her.

Maggie immediately emerged from the nursery with a crying Teddy in her arms. “I’m glad you’re home, Mama, because this little one is not in a good mood,” Maggie mused, her attention solely focused down on Teddy’s red, distressed face as she carried him toward the entryway. When Maggie came to a stop, she finally brought her eyes up to regard Amelia. “Oh my God, Amelia, what happened?” Maggie asked with a forlorn, questioning look on her face.

The sympathy in Maggie’s voice cut Amelia in a way she hadn’t expected. She didn’t deserve sympathy right now. Not after what she’d unintentionally done to Owen. Beyond that, she was far too exhausted to even consider the notion of explaining this whole mess to Maggie. “Nothing,” was all she could bring herself to whisper in response to Maggie’s question.

Maggie cocked an eyebrow. “The tears and red face don’t exactly look like nothing.”

The frustration and fatigue won out, and Amelia was snapping back before she had a chance to stop herself. “Well it is nothing, so I’d appreciate if you’d hand me back my little boy so I can get him settled.”

Maggie’s reaction was immediate. She jerked her head backward, clearly startled and hurt, before recovering and nodding. “Of course. Here you go,” she whispered as she held Teddy out.

“Thank you,” Amelia bit out, pulling the baby to her chest as she walked to the kitchen to heat up a bottle for Teddy. She didn’t even turn to watch as Maggie slipped out the door. After the bottle had finished warming, Amelia offered it to Teddy, but he shoved it away and continued to wail, so she set it down on the counter with a frustrated sigh and carried him back to the nursery.

“Do you need a new diaper? Is that what you want?” A quick trip to the changing table told Amelia that wasn’t it either. As she picked Teddy up and carried him to the rocking chair, the tears that had largely faded returned to Amelia’s eyes. “Well, I just found out that I broke my best friend’s heart without even trying, and then I came home and yelled at my sister for no good reason. That, and I’m tired and confused,” she explained, looking directly into Teddy’s face as she spoke. “So that’s why I’m a crying mess. What’s your deal, buddy? What has you so upset?”

Teddy’s only response was to add a bit of kicking and squirming to his cries. In her current state, this compounded her emotions. “I’m sorry, little bear,” she vented, her frustration showing a bit in her tone. “I know you deserve somebody who’s stable and knows what you need when you’re upset. You don’t deserve a weepy crazy lady. But I’m all there is right now because the world sucks and people are too scared of a child not being perfect to take a chance on a beautiful little boy who has so much love to give. So for right now, you’re just going to have to make due, okay?”

She pulled him in close and rested his tear-stained, scrunched up face against her shoulder. She began to rock the crying, squirming child, all the while doing her best to keep her own tears from running down into the soft hair that was beginning to grow on his head. Amelia couldn’t recall the last time she had felt as inadequate as she did in this moment. It seemed like what she had to offer wasn’t enough for any of the people who were closest to her heart. Nonetheless, this was all she knew to do. With defeated resignation, she continued to rock her crying foster son, crying right alongside him until they both gave way to their exhaustion and drifted off to sleep in the rocking chair.

[leffie-reblogs]

I kinda remember you having ocs? How many and who are they and can i draw them?(if you don't then whoopsss)

(omg I was JUST finished with answering this ask and then accidentally refreshed my page….*screams internally* :D Alright. So here we go again:)

So…ahhh?? Wurt? You really don’t have to but aw..

I have a set of different characters, and they come from three different stories. Thought I’d give you an insight to the characters and their background seperately. Feel free to chose if one interests you ^^I’ll be basing my description on these characters: EDIT: I know these are not the best references (the last one is terrible in fact, haha :D Let me know if you’d need better ones ^^)

This will be a longer post, so I’ll put the information under the cut! :)

Emilieis the OC I have drawn the most. I basically grew up with her through myteenage years, made a comic about her, and put a lot of me in her ^^ (reserved,giggly, clumsy, long curly hair, in love with someone of a very differentethnicity etc). To put the story very simple: it’s a “anti-racist” story,visualized by animals taking the form of different human ethnicities. Moreover,it is also a love story, as Emilie (a rabbit) has feelings for her best friend (afox). HOWEVER, I lost a grip of this story when Zooptopia was released. I didn’teven watch Zootopia until late 2017, but I knew what the moral of the moviemust be, and I was right, haha. Not only was if the same moral my story had,but also the way it was visualized – with the “rabbit vs fox” stereotype broken.I decided to not go ahead and give this story all I got in the form of a comic,and hopefully be able publish it someday. Why? Its not hard to say that theplot sounds like a bland combination of Romeo and Juliet mixed with Zootopia. Evenif this is an extremely harsh remark (and because I know the story, its nottrue), people will judge and look at it like this.  Many people do judge a book by its cover, andI understand why they do so in the comic business. Don’t get me wrong, I stilladore Emilie, and the story still take a huge place and memory in my heart ^^

UmbrellaHead (short: Ella) is a character part of a more creative story. It’s about anartist (called Maggie) who loses her lifelong passion to draw as she grows upand reality teaches her that her dreams are too ambitious. The main story setsplace in Maggie’s imagination. When one day she declares drawing is a waste oftime, and locks her sketchbook away, she gets “cursed”, and teleports into theworld of her imagination. She takes the form of her once favorite and mostdrawn OC, going around in her imagination-world, meeting the first and lastdrawings she made and thought of. She learns that her only way of return backinto the “real world” and getting rid of the curse is by regaining her passionto draw. She has to convince and believe in herself. Otherwise, she’d be forgottenin the imagination land forever that is shutting down more and more with every hour passing. Never returning back into the real world, alongwith her left behind drawings. So: who is Umbrella? For now, she will be aside-kick in the story (a character Maggie once drew, and meets in theImagination World). She tends to always have a cat with her that sleeps on herhead, hehe c:

Last butnot least, Boo and Petunia (the witch on the left (she has a name now ^^)) arepart of a witch story I have (hahah yes, of course Leffie has a witch story:P). Petunia is the protagonist – a “Pumpkin Witch”. Who grew up in a PumpkinTown. Worked at a Pumpkin Farm…pumpkins everywhere! :D She grows weary of seeingthe same things everyday, and gives her best shot at apply for a witchuniversity. There, she meets Boo, and a whole set of different characters ^^(There’s something fishy going at the university, and plot wise, they do some “detectivework” and figure out what that is. Don’t want to give too much away, hehe c: ).

That should sum it all up! Hope it made sense ^^ And ahhh, thank you so much for asking! I’d figure I’d share this, so I know where I can easily find it myself ^^

[sapphicscholar]

Just some fun snippets from the engagement they deserved (especially as we’re getting to whatever fresh hell the crossover holds). Feel free to consider this a fix-it for…god, really the whole fucking season, but I’m giving them a bridal shower where no homophobic parents are in attendance, some wedding planning, and a bachelorette party featuring a one Lucy Lane

For those who had been asking for proposal fix-its, I already wrote one as well as a short ficlet with Maggie proposing for a change 

Chapter Text:

“Don’t forget your bridal bingo cards!” Eliza called out, handing a sheet to each guest who walked through the door, along with a little golf pencil in case they hadn’t come prepared.

“Kill me now, please,” Alex grumbled, throwing an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The sound of a camera shutter drew Alex’s attention, and she held up a finger, pointing it threateningly at James. “What did I say about what I could do to you with that camera?”

“Ooh! Anyone who has ‘photos taken despite Alex’s objections,’ that’s a box checked for you!” Kara yelled over the din of the party, grinning as several people pulled out their cards and checked off the box.

“Brutus,” Alex hissed at Kara as she walked by.

“Nope, just your maid of honor.” Before Alex could protest, she found her hands filled with a flute of champagne and a cake pop and decided it wasn’t worth arguing—yet.

“Ladies!” Lucy yelled as she strolled through the door. “I have arrived!”

“Oh thank god,” Maggie deadpanned, “and here I thought we’d never be able to get the party started.”

“Fear not, Eliza and I have been hard at work coming up with the very best bridal shower games for you two.” Dropping her voice so that only Maggie and Alex could hear, she added, “And I’ve got even more in store for your bachelorette party.”

“What? I, uh, thought the maid of honor planned that?” It wasn’t as though Alex was scared by the thought of Lucy running wild with whatever inappropriate thoughts that came into her mind but, no, scratch that, she absolutely was.

“Typically, yes,” Lucy conceded with a dip of her head. “But since your maid of honor is more pastels and pompoms than lace and lingerie, I figured I could lend a hand. Thanks, Kar!”

“Please don’t mention it…ever.” She might be practically invulnerable, but she didn’t need to deal with an annoyed Alex in the kryptonite training room.

Once Lucy made her way over to Eliza, pulling far too many items out of her bag to Eliza’s delight and Alex’s horror, Maggie dragged Alex around the room to greet all their guests. The routine was simple enough, an excited, “Thanks so much for coming!” followed by some congratulations and best wishes and every so often a “secret tip” for keeping their marriage exciting and the romance alive.

“They don’t know that nothing about your life is boring, huh?” Maggie asked, gesturing to the clump of Alex’s aunts, all of whom had some different secret for keeping away boredom.

“They think I work in a federal lab…and really only do the science stuff.” Hearing the sound of a fork being hit against a glass, Alex grimaced. “Think you’ve got any alien friends who could be convinced to stir up a bit of trouble? Get us out of this hell?”

Maggie gestured around the room to where her closest alien friends were all looking beyond excited at the prospect of hearing about a softer side to the hardass DEO agent who had only recently been accepted by most of them. “I think they’re too invested in finding out about you to jeopardize this bridal shower.”

“Welcome to Alex and Maggie’s bridal shower,” Eliza greeted everyone, joined by Lucy in the corner. “We’ve got quite a few games to play today, but I think we’ll start by bringing our brides-to-be up to the hotseat for a round of the pre-newlywed game to find out how well these two know each other!”

“Deep breath, Danvers,” Maggie whispered, grabbing hold of Alex’s hand and dragging her up to the makeshift stage.

“For those of you who didn’t catch that, we had our first use of Danvers, so go ahead and check that on off your bridal bingo card!” Kara yelled, winking at Alex. If she thought she wasn’t going to use her powers to make sure everyone got the full bridal bingo experience, she was sorely mistaken. Though, Kara had to admit, she was fairly upset that none of her checked off tiles were in the same row or column.

Eliza and Lucy took turns reading off questions, while Alex and Maggie scribbled answers on small dry-erase boards. They started with a few easy ones.

Alex’s favorite color was quickly answered—blue—as was Maggie’s—green—followed closely by their favorite ice cream flavors—rocky road for Alex, while Alex made sure to note that Maggie preferred the vegan version of chocolate fudge brownie, accompanied by her own editorial note, “Gross.” With a question about Alex’s favorite animal (dog), anyone with “Gertrude” on their card found that they had another square ticked off.

“Now how did you two meet?”

A few moments later, they both swung their boards around. Alex’s read: “Crime scene. It was my jurisdiction,” while Maggie’s read, “National City Airport. She still thinks it was her jurisdiction.”

“And how did you two get together?” Eliza asked, remembering just how many weeks had gone by from the first phone call where she heard about Maggie to the one where Alex finally told her they were dating.

Maggie and Alex’s boards matched exactly: “We should kiss the girls we want to kiss.”

“Bingo!” Winn yelled, waving his card in the air.

“What do ya got?” Kara asked, plucking the card from his hands as she read them aloud; they’d agreed the full party would get to decide whether or not it was a real win. “Talk of Gertrude? Check. ‘We should kiss the girls we want to kiss’ story? Check. Free space. ‘It was my jurisdiction’? Check.  Eliza being extra af? I don’t know… What do you think?”

“Not a chance,” Lucy yelled back. “We have so many more things planned—you haven’t even gotten the tip of the iceberg.”

“Then it’s ruled, no bingo!” Winn grumbled as he reached out and took his card back from Kara, but soon had his pencil back out as he heard Alex calling Maggie “Sawyer.”

“Alright, who was your last date with before you got together?” Lucy asked, wiggling her eyebrows at the look of concentration on Alex’s face as she scribbled her answer on the board. Once they stopped writing, Lucy called out, “So who was Maggie’s?”

Alex flipped over her board, looking slightly embarrassed about her answer: “That blonde lady who dumped you?”

“Uh, technically…she did have a name, though—Tricia.”

“No points for Alex,” Lucy declared wielding her pen like a judge’s gavel and tapping it against the table as she announced her verdict. “And who was Alex’s last date?”

“Some boring dude” was scratched across Maggie’s board.

“I mean, she’s kinda right. It was Max Lord.”

“Fake dates don’t count!” Kara yelled out. “Go back another two years!”

Alex glared at her sister, but Lucy beat her to the punch in responding: “None of you are right. Although she clearly did not know it, Alex’s actual last date before getting together with Maggie was with me.”

“What?”

“Don’t you remember those post-Myriad drinks?” Alex looked confused, while Maggie cackled loudly.

“Guess I don’t get to take all the credit for her big gay awakening.”

“Maybe we play a new game?” Alex suggested, really not needing the next group of questions to all be about her obliviousness.

Lucy shrugged, but pulled out the list she and Eliza were working from. “Okay, we’ve got the purse game that we adopted to be more inclusive—now it’s, what’s on my person?”

Everyone gathered round as Lucy explained the directions. “I’ll call out an item. You can use your pockets, bag, and coats. Whichever one of you can produce it first gets a prize.” Once everyone realized that the prizes were bottles of wine, the labels replaced with embarrassing photos of Alex and Maggie, they looked significantly more invested in winning. Sensing the temptation for cheating, Lucy motioned for James. “Hoist me up.”

“What?”

“I need to be able to see everyone.” She looked at him like it were the most obvious thing in the world. Finally he gave in, lifting her up to his shoulders where she perched, scanning the crowd to make sure no one was already trying to start off with more than they were allowed. “Alright, we’ll start easy: hand sanitizer.”

One of Alex’s aunts won handily, producing not one, but three small travel-sized containers of Purell. Winn claimed the next bottle for having a tin of mints, and Kara shocked everyone by actually having glitter on her person. They ended the game early when Lucy called weapon and found herself faced with an veritable sea of batons, knives, and guns—of both the human and alien variety—much to the horror of Alex’s family members. “Forgot how many cops and federal agents were here,” Lucy chuckled. “Let’s, uh, holster those weapons, grab some food, and settle in for the next game, why don’t we?”

“Wait! Bingo!” Lena yelled. She might have arrived a bit late, but with Kara’s help she’d more than made up for lost time.

“Let’s see.” Kara scanned the card, only to find it plucked from her hands by Lucy.

“Nope, we need an objective third party.” Lucy looked over the crossed off diagonal line Lena had checks through. “Alright, we definitely had Sawyer used as a nickname. I’m sure I did, in fact, say something inappropriate.”

“So many things,” Maggie laughed.

“Free space, yep. Alex and J’onn having a moment…did anyone else catch that?”

“I did!” Winn yelled, earning himself a light slap on the back of the head from Alex.

“Oh! I have bingo now too!” James yelled, ticking off, “Head slap.”

“Too late, we definitely got guns being drawn, so Lena won!”

“Congratulations, dear,” Eliza said, handing over a bottle with a photo of Alex and Maggie passed out asleep on the floor of the DEO’s conference room after having spent almost 48 hours awake dealing with an ongoing threat.

---

“Do we sit Lena with Kara at the main bridal party table?” Alex asked, biting at the tip of her pencil as she looked at the large seating chart she had in front of her.

“Oh, you mean because she hasn’t formally admitted that they’re banging?”

“Some might have said dating, dear.”

Maggie just shrugged. “Are we putting Vasquez with Lucy?”

“No…why?”

“Well they’re also fucking. So if they don’t get to sit together, it would kind of be a double standard.”

“Wait, what?”

“Danvers, you run in gay lady circles now. You’ve gotta keep up with the gossip.”

“Remind me to bring a notebook to our bachelorette party to record any rumors,” Alex grumbled.

---

“I hereby declare tonight the biggest, gayest bridal shower to ever hit National City!” Lucy yelled, gesturing for Kara to pop the bottle of champagne and formally start their evening.

“I take no responsibility for anything that happens tonight,” Kara added, catching sight of Alex’s apprehensive expression.

“We’ve got some roleplaying games, the naughty almost-newlywed game, and then Kara has something ‘appropriate’”—Lucy looked physically pained by the idea—“with glitter and cell phones.”

Grabbing the bottle of champagne from Kara’s hands, Alex cleared her throat. “As a reminder, the wedding is tomorrow, and the city is to be free of any and all crime tonight and all day tomorrow. You are all to report to your designated stations on time tomorrow morning.”

“She just means show up at the wedding venue!” Maggie called out, wondering when their wedding started to sound like a DEO mission.

“If any of you get too drunk to deal with emergencies for me tonight or to risk being late tomorrow, so help me, I will show up at your home with every non-lethal alien weapon I have and ensure that you regret your actions from now until the rest of eternity. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy saluted, grinning and looking far too pleased with herself. “But fine, yes, I know some of you are on call tonight. Don’t be stupid—take your water shots and just embody that white girl wasted no shame mentality, mkay?” Once everyone had nodded in understanding, Lucy gestured for Maggie and Alex to come take their place in the two large chairs they’d decorated to look like thrones. “We’ll begin with some roleplaying.”

“Luce,” Alex hissed.

“Hush now, you’re not a part of this.”

Alex glanced over at Maggie to see if she had any idea what was happening, but she just shrugged. Procuring a top hat from what seemed like thin air, Lucy made a show of pulling three cards out—two small ones and one larger one. “Lena and, oh hey look, me! And we will be giving our best approximation of the Sanvers morning routine.”

“I’m still not sold on Sanvers as our wedding hashtag,” Maggie interjected.

“Yes, well, we voted and you lost. Time to move on and start tagging your posts properly.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, accepting the flutes of champagne and bowl of popcorn that were handed to them while Lena and Lucy took a shot each and got up in the front of the room, everyone else quieting around them.

With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, Lucy sat up. “Sawyer! Wake up!” she barked, earning a few small chuckles from the crowd.

“I’m not that bad,” Alex grumbled.

“Morning, Danvers,” Lena tried, looking significantly less sure in her role than Lucy. “Um, should we get breakfast?”

“I assume you want something gross and vegan or toasted to charcoal?”

Biting back a snort of laughter, Lena nodded, feeling the warmth of the shot she’d taken slowly spreading and helping to loosen her up a bit. Apparently Lucy was quite the natural. “Yes, dear. But first let’s look through our closets and pick out which of my twenty identical pairs of skinny jeans I should wear today.”

“Good idea, then we can go into our leather jacket room and find one nobody’s seen yet.”

“So glad we order them in bulk!” Alex found herself smiling in spite of herself, and Lena seemed to relax even more when she noticed that the brides-to-be were enjoying themselves as they went about reenacting their morning routine.

“Breakfast sure was great,” Lucy declared loudly. “Wonder what I should do now? Maybe I should call my dearest and most attractive and best friend Lucy…” She pulled out her phone and made a show of looking at it before putting it back in her pocket and glaring at Alex. “No, I’ll wait til it’s a world-ending emergency. Hmm…I guess the only thing left to do for fun besides shooting is fucking.”

For a moment Lena looked like she might bolt, but she finally seemed to give in with a nudge from Lucy. “We should be sure to do it right by the big bay windows when we know Kara’s visiting—make sure that she’s far too scarred to do anything fun all day.” Lena threw an accusatory glare over at Alex and Maggie, who looked appropriately bashful.

“End scene!” Lucy yelled, loudly clapping until everyone else caught on. “Unless we wanted to turn this into an NC-17 version…no? No takers? Not yet? That’s cool.” With a flourish, Lucy reached back into her hat and pulled out three more cards: “Next up will be Winn and Kara, and they’ll be playing Sanvers at the bar.”

After a few moments, Kara and Winn took their places at the front of the room, both of them grinning.

“Who’s whom?” someone yelled out.

“Obviously I’m Alex. I’m taller, duh,” Kara answered, earning a cheer from Alex.

“Hey, Danvers! Come try this whiskey.”

“Oh, my favorite! It’s totally something normal people drink, and isn’t at all purposefully dark and broody.”

“Nope, not at all. I sure like that leather jacket,” Winn complimented, even going so far as to tilt his head to the side to take it in.

“You too. Love that you’re also in skinny jeans and a leather jacket.”

“But it’s not like we’re matching, and my reaction of threatening Winn when he suggested it was so totally appropriate.”

“Threatening Winn is my favorite pastime! Maybe we should play pool? I love how no one else in this bar literally every approaches our table.” Kara shot a glare at Alex, remembering the one time she had tried playing and been shooed away.

“Ah yes, it’ll be fun to act like I could ever have a shot at winning.”

“I heard Maggie won in other ways on that pool table!” Lucy yelled out, cackling at the way Alex rounded on her and the bright pink flush that colored both Winn and Kara’s cheeks.

“End scene!” Lena yelled, figuring neither Kara nor Winn would go anywhere near the topic now that they knew it could all be turned into double entendre.

A short break and a few drinks later, Lucy dragged Alex and Maggie’s chairs up to the front of the room for all the newlywed questions she’d rejected for the family-friendly shower version. “Audience participation is firmly encouraged,” she added with a wink. “We’ll start off easy.” Alex let out a sigh of relief. “When’s the last time you hooked up?”

“Lucy,” Alex hissed. “What happened to starting off easy?”

“This should be straightforward.”

“Traitor.”

Eventually Lucy coaxed Alex into writing something down and got her to move it far enough away from her chest to let Lucy read it aloud: “Today.” She nodded in appreciation before turning to Maggie. “You in agreement?”

Maggie spun her board around: “This afternoon.”

“Extra points for the specificity, Sawyer! We’re gonna get along so well.” Maggie grinned at that. “How long did you wait until you slept together for the first time?”

At least Kara already knew the answer to this one, Alex thought as she spun her board around: “3 weeks.”

“Maggie?”

Biting at her lip, Maggie flipped her board: “2 weeks.”

“Interesting…you both seemed pretty secure in those answers. What exactly did ya do at two weeks?”

Thinking back to what had happened at two weeks, Alex flushed a deep shade of red and clamped her hand over Maggie’s mouth. “Nothing! I misremembered the date!”

Lucy looked like she desperately wanted to push for more information, but she figured she’d wait until after the wedding and get Alex a little closer to drunk before she asked. “Alright, we’ll let it go…for now. Next up, which of each other’s friends do you find most attractive?”

Encouraging the crowd to sell themselves, Lucy cackled as winks were directed at the brides to be and countless kisses blown in their direction. Lucy even played a few bars of music to try to encourage James to take his shirt off. Even if they weren’t together anymore, she could still appreciate the aesthetic.

“Alright, ladies, reveal those answers!”

Alex flipped hers over: “I only have eyes for Maggie.”

“Aww, babe, that’s so sweet.” Maggie leaned over and kissed Alex, earning a chorus of cheers.

“What about you, Maggie? What’d you put?” Lucy yelled, noticing her sliding her board away.

“Oh, uh, same answer!”

“Let’s see.”

“No need!” But Lucy moved fast enough for Maggie to swear she could have been Kryptonian too, snatching the board from her before she could erase her answer. “Oh, Detective, you could have just said so…” she trailed off, fluttering her eyelashes as she spun it around to show the crowd her own name scrawled on the board.

“Fuck off,” Maggie grumbled.

“Only if your fiancée agrees to it too,” Lucy teased, jumping up and back off the stage as she took off, Alex hot on her heels. “This your way of saying yes, Danvers?”

[quillyfied]

Magnus and Lup bonding time. Taako's cooking recovery towards being able to cater at Killian&Carey's wedding. Davenport and Lucretia talking about what she did to him, coming to terms with what happened. Merle pitching his youth group ideas to the first people to send their kids with him. People who only know Lup as a lich meeting her in the flesh.Taako meeting Lup in the flesh. Taako meeting Angus' grandfather. Kravitz convincing the raven queen to hire Lup and Barry post death.

Treegona my friend, you’ve given me some amazing material to work with, but one in particular really stuck in my head to work on, so we’re gonna go with that!

gosh i hope this isn’t too bad for a first foray into TAZ.

The first time Magnus met Lup, itwas IPRE orientation, he was a little hungover, and she was smirking as shelevitated his sunglasses off his face and onto her own. Her brother, whose namehe would learn later was Taako, stifled his hysteric giggles in her shoulder asshe slid his shades down her nose and winked at him. Magnus supposed heshould’ve been grumpier about it, but between Captain Davenport’s warning lookand the instructor clearing their throat, Magnus didn’t get a chance to do muchmore than frown. After a few minutes, the sunglasses fit back onto his face andhe fought down a smile.

The twins had their training, andMagnus had his, so they didn’t cross paths much, but Magnus had a feeling heknew who it was when his shades floated off into oblivion again during a lunchbreak. The elf was wearing them again, this time tucked up onto her head, andshe and her brother bracketed Magnus between them and sprawled in an elegantsort of way all up in his personal space. Not that he was much bothered by it,to be honest, but strangers probably should’ve cared more.

“You’re huge, my dude,” the elfthat stole his glasses said. “Also, your taste in eyewear is rad.”

“I’m pretty much the best ever,”Magnus shrugged, and pushed his tray towards the male elf, who was picking friesoff his lunch and crunching down obnoxiously. “I would like those back,though.”

“Cool,” the elf said, stretchingback and setting her elbows behind her on the table. “Name’s Lup. That’sTaako.”

“Sup,” Taako said, and went back tomaking very quick work of Magnus’ half-finished meal.

“I’m Magnus,” Magnus said, and wentto take his glasses back. Almost quicker than he could blink, Lup was standinga few feet away, Taako slinking up by her side, and they gave him matchingpredatory smiles.

“See you around, Maggie,” Lup said,and as they walked away in sync Magnus considered running after them for hisglasses, but his rare moment of hesitance was rewarded by said shades floatingback to him, neatly folded.

His exchanges with the twins werealways brief—a couple of quips, a smile, and then sauntering away. Magnus was alittle confused about their end goal, here, but whenever Lup stole hissunglasses she always gave them back later, so it wasn’t that bad, really.

His first full conversation withthem happened at the end of the year, during what the recruits were callingHell Week—a solid week of assessments, tests, and interviews, determining whowas going to be staying in the program. Magnus wasn’t too worried about it,since that afternoon he’d bench-pressed his commanding officer when he’d toldhim to demonstrate what he felt he brought to the Institute. The same could notbe said for the twins, who, for the first time since Magnus had met them,looked agitated instead of smugly bored. They sat across from him at thecafeteria this time, as one reaching for his food. Magnus produced two bags ofchips from beneath the table and shoved them at the twins instead. Taako lookedconfused for a moment about what he was holding before shrugging with a“thanks, my man” and digging in. Lup examined her bag, looked at Magnus, andgrinned, squeezing the bag and popping it open.

“Rough week?” Magnus asked.

“You could say that,” Lup replied.Taako made a derisive noise around his chips and chewed furiously, swallowingthem down.

“More like a nightmare from thebowels of the Underdark, if you ask me,” he said. “None of the instructors herehave any idea what they’re doing, we can spell circles around them for days.”

“It’s nailing down the technicaljargon that’s the worst,” Lup grimaced. “Sure, calling it an arcane core is allwell and good, but it’s totes like the Tesseract from that Maarvell Comixscroll, so why not call it like it is?”

“Written exams are a special kindof torture, really,” Taako added. “Practical exams are way better.”

“Most of my exams are practical, soI feel you there,” Magnus shrugged. “I guess it’s different for arcanistsjoining the Institute, huh?”

“You’re, what, security personnel?”Lup asked, and Magnus nodded. “Way different ball game there, kemosabe. Gottause what’s in here,” Lup tapped her head, “not here,” she finished, pokingMagnus’ arm.

“You guys wanna go hit up a fewbars when the day’s out?” Magnus asked, and the twins looked at each other fora moment before turning back to Magnus, smiling widely. It was a good thingthey wore their hair differently, or there’d be no telling them apart.

“Magnus, my dude, my man, my maincompadre,” Taako said, “that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

In the years to come, Magnus wouldlearn a lot about how to party with Lup and Taako. On more planes than anyonecould ever dream of, he’d do an obscene number of pub crawls, keg stands, andbar hops, and get hopelessly wrecked at most of them. The ones he’d remember,usually there would be a reason why. But Magnus, back then, back during thatfirst night, with all three of their futures hanging in the balance, didn’tknow any better.

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Lupsaid, “we’re gonna show you a truly gnarly time.”

-

If pressed, Magnus could recall afew hazy memories from the first time he and the twins went out, but the mostvivid sensation was the nauseous, pounding headache he had the morning after,along with a healthy coating of glitter and a bruise on his jaw (neither ofwhich went away with a cold shower and both of which lingered for far longerthan he thought possible). He had his sunglasses on as well as a hat when heshowed up to the Institute the next day for final evaluations. The twins,dressed in a curious amalgamation of their clothes from the night before anddefinitely things from his closet, slouched beside him up to the building.

“Mags,” Taako mumbled, bags underhis eyes and probably still a little drunk, “if we don’t make it in there, I’mgonna find you and beat your everything into a puddle.”

“The fourth bar was your idea,dude,” Magnus grunted back. “Now shut up, we’re awesome, and we’re gonna dofine.”

“If you say so,” Taako grumbled,and as the twins peeled off to their wing of the Institute, Magnus’ glassesshot off his face and onto Lup’s. He scowled at her, and she shot up a peacesign before catching up with her brother. Magnus pulled his hat down a littlelower and grumbled his way into his classroom.

-

“So,” Captain Davenport said, foldinghis hands on his desk, “Mr. Burnsides, you’ve tested excellent on all yourphysical examinations, and your instructors are overflowing with praise aboutyour improvisational battle tactics, but I have no less than six notes heredetailing concerns they have about your temperament outside of combat, and yourwritten exam scores leave much to be desired.”

Magnus shrugged. “I’m more of apractical kind of guy, sir. You can’t study and plan for everything, you canonly act in the moment.”

“I see,” Captain Davenport said,holding Magnus’ eyes with calm authority. “Magnus rushes in, yes?” Magnusshrugged again, a smile quirking his mouth. “The Institute does not needsecurity officers who rush into situations half-cocked, Mr. Burnsides. And yourlack of respect for your superiors shines through in almost everything you do.”Davenport leaned forward, and despite his diminutive size, Magnus wasintimidated, his moment of amusement sliding off his face. “Explain in asentence why you deserve to be here.”

Magnus bit his lip, opened hismouth, and closed it again. After a moment of furious thinking, he said, “I actbecause hesitation in a dangerous situation costs lives, and yeah, I’ll giveyou that maybe I’m not the most formal of dudes, but I think the Instituteneeds more men like me, who can think on their feet and push ahead, rather thansit around brown-nosing or fretting they’re stepping on toes.”

Captain Davenport made a few noteson the paper in front of him, then put his pen down and laced his fingerstogether. “That was bordering on run-on sentence, Mr. Burnsides, but I’ll allowit. I have one final question for you.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ve become close with a pair oftwins in the Arcanist Department, is that correct?”

“You mean Taako and Lup?” Magnusasked, furrowing his brow. “Yeah, I’d say we’re friends.”

“What do you think of them?”

“I think that’s more than one finalquestion, sir,” Magnus said, and Davenport’s mouth buckled almost into a smilebefore he schooled it back down. “I think they’re cool. Can’t speak for theirmagic powers too much, since I’ve never seen ‘em in action before, but they’reclose, and I like them.”

“Okay,” Davenport said, makinganother note. “That will be all, Mr. Burnsides, thank you.”

“You got it, Cap’nport,” Magnussaid, and Davenport snorted a laugh. He followed it up with stern captainlyglowering, but Magnus just saluted and exited. Hey, if they were gonna keephim, they’d have to deal with him, and Magnus loved puns. (Later, when he toldthe twins what he said, Lup snorted her drink up her nose and Taako laughed sohard he fell off his barstool; Lup slid Magnus’ sunglasses back onto his faceand solemnly proclaimed him “the master now.”)

-

A hundred planes and apocalypseslater, Magnus Burnsides was dozing beneath a tree outside Neverwinter, taking abreak from reconstruction efforts, when something dropped onto his face. Heawoke with a start, then panicked for a minute before he remembered his visionwas dark because of the glasses on his face, not because he was going blind(or, gods forbid, the Hunger was back; he’d seen it destroyed with his own eyesand yet he knew he was never going to stop half-expecting dark opalescentgalactic death for as long as he lived).

“Sorry there, big guy,” a voicesaid, and Magnus grinned, shifting the shades up on top of his head. Lup, stilla lich, floated overhead, and if a skeleton could grin Lup was doing her best.She settled her incorporeal form down next to Magnus on the ground, crossingher arms behind her head and splaying her robes out like her sprawling legsused to do in her flesh body. Where her raw power intersected with his meatform was tingly and warm, but not in a bad way. Magnus let out a deep breath ofcontentment.

“Body not ready yet, huh?” Magnusasked.

“Nah. Barry says it’ll be anothercouple of days,” Lup said. “I told him I didn’t care if it was a bit early, andthen Taako mentioned going through elf puberty again and, well, nah, son, I didit once. Never again.”

Magnus laughed. “Don’t blame you.”He twisted the ring around his finger, a nervous habit he’d picked up in thedecade since he’d seen Lup, so maybe it wasn’t so surprising when she clearedher ghostly throat.

“Gonna tell me about the ring, mydude, or am I gonna have to get the gossip from my sweet baby brother?”

“Not much to gossip about,” Magnussaid. It didn’t hurt to talk about Julia anymore, not since he finally startedtalking to his friends about his feelings (and…whoever he gave up inWonderland), but with the doublethink still going in his head of “spent ahundred years in found family space adventures” Magnus and “lived a decade withno memory of that century and went through some hefty stuff” Magnus, it was alittle confusing to try and marry the two parts of himself. Lup’s spectral footnudged his leg, and he nudged back, phasing right through.

“Her name was Julia,” Magnusreplied, “and we were married for a few months when…somebody…bombed the city welived in, while I was on a trip away. She and her father were killed.” At Lup’squiet swearing he shrugged. “It sucks, but I know I’m gonna see her again whenI finally kick the bucket here, so that…that’s okay.”

Lup whistled. “A lot of what youwere doing while I was in umbrella town makes a lot more sense now. You werealways reckless, ya big lug, but not careless. Not since Fischer. Not in thatlast half-century.” She laughed. “You were almost mature, my dude. I waswondering what happened.”

Magnus laughed too. “A lot ofstuff,” he said, and sighed. “A…a lot of stuff.”

Lup twiddled her skeletal thumbs,then elbowed Magnus (or elbowed through Magnus). “Hey. Mags. Maggie. Mango.Magnum. Mag-dude.”

“Yes, Lulu?” Magnus replied, andLup casually flicked a tiny flame onto one of Magnus’ sideburns. He swatted itaway before it could do much damage.

“When I get my body,” she said,“you and me, we’re going on the town. All-night rager. We’re gonna take theliver Barold so kindly regrew me, and trash it.” She paused. “Was Julia a partyanimal?”

“Drank me under the table,” Magnussaid, and Lup burst out laughing. “This one time, she carried me home fromthe bar, and she actually finished the bottle.”

“I’ll pour one out for her, shesounds awesome,” Lup said, and floated up. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back tobeing a working man. Lucretia said she wanted to pick the ole spectral brainsabout something, so I’mma go take care of that.”

“Sure,” Magnus smiled, and waved asLup vanished. He settled back against his tree and flicked his shades down overhis eyes to catch another quick nap before heading back into town.

(Later, back in her body and readyto party, Lup would steal Magnus’ shades again like old times and parade aroundthe Neverwinter taverns in them; much, much later, she’d clutch the sunglassesto her chest and smile a watery smile at a white-haired Magnus as he winked andtold her they always looked better on her, anyway.)

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Hunting.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 2355

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Thirty Three.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie.

I got back home that very night Donald came to look for me.

I was not expecting him to come and get me. I thought I knew him well and he wouldn't stop until he got Liz. But when I saw him standing there in my house, when he told me he'd picked me, I gave in. He picked me, even if it was just for that day, he picked me.

My sister jokingly -and not jokingly- had done the whole 'blink twice if you're not going willingly'. I assured her I wanted to go back with Don.

Loosing the trail on Raymond hadn't stopped him. He still went to work every morning, checked statements, security cameras, tips, anything he could get his hands on. A whole month went by like that.

I, on the other hand, spent them alone in the house, caught up with remodelations in the house, waited for Don, some nights we went out, mainly to distract him from everything. But a month was a month and that was all I needed to realize I had to go back to work.

I showed up unninvited to my old work, making Gina spring out of her seat and greet me. She invited me into her office and over a cup of tea she briefed me. Ha, briefed me, speaking like Donald aren't we?.

"He sold the company" referring to my boss "he got divorced and that kind of killed him. It was recently so it hasn't changed names. We have a new architect who is 100% not you" she chuckled. I was slowly sipping my tea while I listened to her. "I don't like working with her, her style is kind of... I don't know, I'm not an architect so I won't comment but we had some clients who came back after they got your work done by you, and they complained a lot that you weren't here. We lost a few clients after that. I'm still employed here but I'm taking a second job in another architect firm."

"That sucks" I could only comment.

"I hope you made bank with that other exclusive client of yours, and word of advice, move on from this place."

Truth was, I had made bank. Raymond exaggerated immensely my pay check, always cash, I had it stored away in a safe room I'd built under the stairs in my house. I kept it a secret because one; Donald, and two; I didn't like to brag. Yes I bought myself nice things, changed the car, but aside from that I lived modestly.

And also, I'd lost almost all my marriage savings with my dad's illness, so now that I had gotten almost all of it back and paid the medical bills it was a good thing I stopped, it made me nervous to know the amount of money I had in my place.

"I came back because I'm done with that exclusive client. And I don't know what else to do, I'm bored" I whined.

"We can start job hunting together, or if you come back we can lift this thing up. Our new boss let's us do whatever we please"

The door knocked, Gina gave me a little eye roll and walked up to open it. A middle age man walked, slick suit and tie and a warm smile

"And who might this be?" He said looking at me.

"This is Maggie Waters"

"Ah, the Maggie Waters." I chuckled and extended my hand to shake his.

"She was just telling me that she's free to come back"

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely. Let's head to my office to talk something out shall we?" He motioned at me to leave the office. I gave Gina quick wave and walked to what used to be Paul Bronton's office. " The name is William Ruso by the way" he said while walking behind me.

He reached out and opened the door of the office.

"Please, struggle for the cameras" I frowned and turned to him, well tried. Since my back was to him he pinned one of my arms behind my back, twisting it painfully and placing a clothed hand over my mouth and and nose. A sharp stench hit my nostrils and I could immediately feel the dizziness.

Still, I pushed my head back and managed to hit him on the cheekbone. He didn't follow up with a punch or tried to stop me, but what I assumed was chloroform was already hitting me back hard.

I stumbled out of the office and onto the emergency exit, I already knew where it was, just a few steps down the office. When I grabbed the handle and got out, the body of another person pushed me to the open door, again putting his hand over my mouth. This time I screamed as I was grabbed by the waist, I tried to put my feet up and kick but another one grabbed me by the feet to help carry me.

I felt a sharp sting on my neck, then nothing.

Ressler.

I returned to Maggie's home late at night. I was, again, very confused as in why her house was so quiet, and why she wasn't here.

Nothing had happened, we were fine, this morning we had our breakfast, we talked, kissed, I repeated how much I loved her, there wasn't a logical reason for her not to be here.

I dialed her phone with mine, this time the line had been disconnected. I frowned in confusion and retraced our conversation in the morning. She hadn't mention anything out of the ordinary, we were going to start watching Narcos tonight.

I wasn't going to call her sister, not until I knew for sure what had happened.

I didn't know who to call or where to go, except for one person. In half an hour I was knocking on Aram's apartment.

He was really weirded out that it was me late at night. He opened the door to let me in and I talked as I entered.

"I think Maggie is missing, I need your help to track-" I stopped when I saw Samar sitting in the dinner table, I felt annoyed that I had interrupted something, but I needed to find Maggie.

"Maggie is missing?" She asked with worry on her voice as well "when was the last time you saw her?"

"This morning, before I left for work. She told me she would call me for lunch but she didn't, it didn't came across as odd"

"Okay" Aram said grabbing his computer and opening it "cellphone" he looked up at me. I recited the number to him, Samar was already with her phone on her ear.

"It says it's disconnected" Samar said after checking for herself what I already knew

"Yeah, I could only narrow down the location to a 10 block radius using the last signal received almost 6 hours ago" Aram finished looking up at me. I walked around the apartment and began thinking.

"Can you get a satellite image of the area?"

"And look for what?"

"Her car, maybe it was towed"

"Okay, yes, a black Toyota was towed on Connecticut Ave at 4 pm, in Cleveland park" he said after a few taps in the keyboard

I frowned and turned to Aram.

"What? Does that ring a bell?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's her work address"

"We should get going, if the car was towed at 4 pm it must've been parked for at least 3 hours before the firm had it moved. And now it's been another 5 hours. Her trail is getting cold" Samar said and stood up from her seat.

"I'll head to the post office, I'll have better access from over there" Aram said closing his laptop and holding it to his chest. Before we walked out I looked at both of them and gave them a thankfull look.

"Thank you for helping me"

"You're welcome" Aram said, I looked to Samar who just nodded at me.

We got in motion, Aram headed to the Post Office while Samar and I drove towards Maggie's old work address.

When I got there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, I walked towards the door of the building and looked inside, the lights were off and nothing seemed changed.

Samar and I walked to the side of the building, finding a little alleyway on the side. Halfway in there was an emergency door and a few dumpsters.

"Ressler" I heard Samar call me, she was a few steps ahead. I walked quickly to her and looked up to where she was staring. "there's a security camera in that store, it's pointing this way. We can ask tomorrow for the footage"

I didn't like tomorrow, she was presumably taken before lunch, that's 8 hours from now, she could be anywhere, Reddington could've put her on a plane and taken her off the city, off the county, off the goddamned continent.

I looked to the side to another dumpster and saw little glints, I moved a paper bag out of the way carefully. Her cellphone was broken, the screen was shattered in pieces. Carefully I took it and placed it inside a evidence bag I always had on me.

"If she was here, she more than likely spoke to Gina, I'll go to her place and get a statement" I said to Samar.

"It's almost 10 pm" she replied, as if it was going to stop me. I turned around and walked back to the car. Samar followed by without saying anything and the drive there was also silent. I was trying really hard to convince myself that this was Reddington that took her, because if it was someone else, then things weren't going to be pretty.

I arrived at Gina's place, walked to the door and knocked, the lights of the house were out, but one upstairs wasn't.

It took a few minutes, but Marcus opened the door at last.

"Marcus" I fished my bag and showed it to him, identifying myself. "This is Agent Navabi, we need to ask a few questions to Gina. It's about Maggie"

He frowned, but let us in, he walked us to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker, then walked upstairs to get Gina.

She showed up a few seconds later, covering her body with a bathrobe. She looked worried and a little scared

"Don hey" she saluted, I motioned at her to the chair and she sat down. I saw Marcus pour some coffee for us out of the corner of my eye

"Maggie, you saw her today?"

"Yeah, she came to work, talked for maybe a half an hour and then she left with my boss, why?" Her expression changed "did something happened to her?" She whispered at me.

"She didn't return home" I said weary, Gina just gasped a little horrified and her eyes immediately filled up with tears, she let out a strangled 'oh my god' before Marcus walked to her and pressed his hand to her arm. I lead my own hand to her arm and squeezed it tight. "Gina, your boss, Paul Bronton, where can I find him?"

"Paul isn't-" she choked up, cleaning her tears "he isn't our boss anymore he s-sold the company"

"To who?" I pressed. She cleaned up more tears again and managed to spit out the name William Ruso.

I quickly texted Aram to get me information on any William Ruso there was.

"I'll need you to come with me to get a statement, you're the last person who saw her, and I'll need to register your workplace" Samar took over for me while I began watching the photos Aram was sending me to my phone. Then he called

"Unless he is doing business from the grave, a William Ruso did recently purchased the company from Mr Bronton. But like I said, this Ruso died five years ago from terminal cancer"

"I have her phone, it's broken though, can you do anything with it?" I asked, moving a little away from everyone.

"Yes, definitely, bring it back and I'll check it out" I hung up and out the phone back in my inner pocket, looking at Gina. She was looking inside her purse.

When I was going to tell her that we needed to go as soon as possible she handed me a set of keys. I looked at them and then back at her

"Those are the keys that open the back room, the emergency exit. We made copies a few months ago after the entrance was being renewed and we had to enter through the alley." She explained. I put the keys in my pocket and nodded at her thankfully.

On my way to leaving Samar with Gina at the site I called a sketch artist to get a proper look at this new boss, I gathered a forensics team and headed back to Maggie's workplace.

Knowing I would need a warrant, I called Reven Wright to let her know I had a Reddington related case, and she agreed to see me the next morning, but gave me the go ahead to search the place.

It was almost 1 am when I came back to the blacksite, Gina was gone, Samar was getting ready to leave as well, Aram had been working on the phone, but besides recovering what little he could about her contacts list, we would have to wait until tomorrow to scope the security cameras to get a look at the van that took Mags.

I sent Aram home, Samar also left, I ended up alone in the office. Besides receiving confirmation that the prints we took from the handrail of the emergency exit were Mags, all I could do was wait, and I hated that. I hated knowing that every minute she wasn't here was a minute she was traveling farther away, and knowing how hard it was to get Reddington in all the years I spent looking for him, she was going to be impossible to track down.

[mbtizone]

Aria Montgomery (Pretty Little Liars): ISFP

Dominant Introverted Feeling [Fi]: Aria’s emotions are private and intense. She keeps a journal, which she writes in to get out all of her feelings. Her value system is internal – she does what she has to do to protect herself and the people closest to her. She can be very hard on people who violate her morals or wrong her. When Aria kills Shana to protect her friends, she struggles to live with the guilt and wants to turn herself in for the murder. She primary deals with her feelings following the incident in solitude. She repeatedly watches the video of Shana’s memorial alone and cries silently. Aria has trouble with forgiving herself for what she did and tries to make a donation towards the cost of the funeral, until she is interrupted and stopped by Ezra. Aria needs to “find a way to live with what she did in New York.” She attempts to alleviate her guilt by going over to Jenna’s to be “sorry for her loss” and offers to listen to her talk about Shana in order to help her heal. Aria doesn’t care what other people think of her relationship with Ezra. It feels right to her, so other people’s opinions don’t matter. She can sometimes see through people and call them out on their behavior. When Sean tries to give her flowers to say “thanks”, Aria flatly states that his real motive was to hurt Hanna. When Aria is feeling something, she doesn’t hold back for the sake of group harmony. She is in a bad mood and withdrawn on her double date with Noel, Hanna, and Sean because she’s upset about Ezra and can’t pull herself out of her funk. After she finds out the truth about Hanna giving Ella the museum tickets, she is snarky and isolates herself from the rest of the group in Emily’s bedroom. She doesn’t address what’s bothering her, but makes rude comments and eventually gets up and leaves. Aria begins working for A.D. in order to protect Ezra from the police report she filled out accusing him of statutory rape after A.D. threatens to make it public, but feels so guilty about what she’s done that she wants to turn herself in. She can’t stand that she betrayed her friends to keep Ezra out of trouble. Aria has a hard time doing something if it contradicts the way she’s feeling. For example, she refuses to go to her mother’s for dinner after she moves into her own apartment because, to Aria, doing so would be like saying she’s okay with them being separated when she isn’t.

Auxiliary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: It can be quite difficult for Aria to think abut the consequences of her actions before doing something. She pursues a relationship with Ezra even though doing so can get him into a lot of trouble. Aria acts on impulse a lot, which is typically driven by her emotions, and when she gets herself worked up about something, she doesn’t really care about the repercussions. She has a history of acting out in violent, destructive ways, such as destroying Ezra’s apartment or trashing her father’s office after she discovers his affair. On occasion, Aria will make the risky move of showing up at Ezra’s apartment without calling ahead. At the dance-a-thon, she’s all ready to march over to Simone and make a scene about Ezra, but Spencer (who always thinks about consequences), intervenes and diffuses the situation before it can start. Aria is unafraid to act in the moment. She uses the rifle to knock Shana off the stage to save her friends. When Hanna and Spencer are arguing about what to do with the file, Aria grabs it and throws it into the water. After she finds out that Ezra got close to her for his book about Ali’s disappearance, she fills out a police report as a spiteful act of revenge, though she never files it. When Aria is suspicious about what’s going on with her parents, she runs straight into the school to get answers. When Ezra is directing a play, Aria asks him to be his stage manager so they can spend more time together, which Ezra immediately thinks is a bad idea, but Aria doesn’t care about the problems that might present. All she cares about is having the opportunity to be in his company. She doesn’t get worked up thinking about the future. “You have no idea what’s gonna happen tomorrow. Nobody does.” Aria signs up for self-defense classes and enjoys feeling empowered and in control of her environment. However, during her first lesson, she impulsively kisses her instructor after getting one of the moves down. She enjoys sensory hobbies and interests, such as music, photography, art, and fashion. She takes advantage of opportunities that arise in her environment. She volunteers at Radley to get information and she goes to Maggie’s classroom, pretending to be an undergraduate interested in teaching in order to satisfy her curiosity about Ezra’s ex. She’s highly aware of her surroundings and often uses them to form conclusions.

Tertiary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: When Aria has a hunch about something, she commits to the idea until it’s either proven, or proven to be incorrect. She doesn’t usually entertain multiple theories at once, and tends to stick with whatever she feels is most likely until the trail leads her to a dead end. Because Aria can see the deeper meaning in things, she’s convinced that Shana’s underlined passage from her copy of The Scarlet Letter is a reference to the fact that she’s “A”. Sometimes, Aria will convince herself that the worst-case scenario will come to fruition and acts on impulse to prevent it from happening. After the events that occurred in New York, Aria is afraid that “A” will tell the police what really happened. Aria’s first instinct is to go to the cabin in the woods to make it look like Ali had been hiding out there in order to substantiate their story. She believes that it is only a mater of time until they are inevitably caught by the police and can become quite pessimistic when forced to confront the future. Aria enjoys understanding the deeper meanings behind things and is quite analytical when it comes to books and movies. When the girls are putting together Ali’s memorial, she visualizes what people will think or feel when they see it. She says that she and her friends will be forgotten, but people will come there far into the future and, even though they won’t know Ali or what happened to her, she will be immortalized.

Inferior Extroverted Thinking [Te]: Aria doesn’t typically enact plans of her own. Rather, she tends to play a role in other people’s. Sometimes, when Aria is feeling stressed, she can fall into the grip of her inferior function and feel the need to do something, such as going to the cabin to make it look as though Ali had been living there in order to back up the lie they told. When Aria feels threatened or attacked, or loses control of her temper, she can be blunt, direct, and brutal. She is very cold towards Meredith and has no trouble telling her to stay away from her father. When Mona begins to get close to Aria’s brother, Aria really lets her have it, and Mona even makes a comment about Aria’s maliciousness. She has a tendency to become paranoid and suspicious of others, and can become combative and hostile under stress, often blurting out whatever she thinks or feels in the moment. When Aria kills Shana, she feels the need to do something to make it right. First, she wants to make a donation, and then she decides to go to Jenna in the aftermath to help her through it.

Note: I haven’t been able to bring myself to do a typing for Aria because of my tendency to go back and forth between INFP and ISFP for her. However, it seems that the third time watching the series was the charm, because I finally feel confident in declaring her an ISFP. I stand by what I’ve previously said about her. She’s a terribly written character, which makes typing her a serious pain. If you’re interested in reading my analysis of why typing her was a nearly impossible task, please feel free to read the article I posted here.

Enneagram: 4w3 Sx/Sp

Quotes:

Aria: I write, too, but so far it’s mostly personal… just for me.

Aria: Kind of lying here despondently right now, Spence. Spencer: Well, can you just sit despondently? I need the bed. Aria: No, lying is more despondent.

Ella: Well, sweetie, I was going to when you came over for dinner, but then you canceled on Monday… and Tuesday, and then on Wednesday. Aria: Yeah, this week’s been intense. Ella: I understand. I just, you know, I would like to see you in the flesh. But you don’t really plan on ever coming over, do you? Aria: I can’t. Look, if I did, it’d be like saying I’m okay with you and dad living apart. Ella: But we are. Aria: I know! Just ’cause you were ready for this doesn’t mean that I am. I gotta get back to the library.

Aria: I just want to lay in my bed and listen to sad music all day.

Aria: Stop talking! There’s nothing you could say that would change the way I feel right now.

Mike: If your relationship is so much trouble, why not just let it go? Aria: Look, when you love someone. It’s worth fighting for, no matter what the odds.

Aria: I know that you don’t want a friend right now, but that doesn’t mean that your friends don’t need you.

Aria: Look, we’re here now… …and it’s just the two of us. And it feels good. So let’s not care together.

Aria: We’re both here now. Can’t we just be happy we have that?

Ezra: Aria, let’s be real. We’re a lot more wrong than we are right. Aria: You wanna be real? Forget about theory. What does it feel like? When we’re together? Ezra: Good. It feels… right.

Spencer: He’s your boyfriend, Aria. He’s not a baby squirrel. Aria: I was just trying to do the right thing. Spencer: Totally wrong. Look, I’ve been there, I’ve done that. Every time you baby squirrel Ezra, you’re taking away his nuts. Aria: You did not just say that.

Aria: That is it! I will kick her back to New York if I have to. Spencer: Wait, Aria, stop. Before you do something you regret. Aria: Spence, let go of me! Spencer: There are teachers here. And parents – your parents. Aria: I don’t care!

Spencer: [to Aria] That was a suicide mission and you know it.

Aria: You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want.

Aria: I just came here to say that I signed up For the play for all the wrong reasons, So I’m officially done. You’re right, it was a terrible idea. Ezra: Aria- Aria: But you were wrong, too… About the future. You have no idea What’s gonna happen tomorrow. Nobody does. My friend Alison, she didn’t. She didn’t get a future. She didn’t even get to turn 16.

Aria: Look, Hanna, I really hope that you find a hobby. And I hope you have a carefree senior year, Em. But I’ve got to find a way to live with what I did in New York. I can be sorry for her loss. All right? That’s what I can do.

Emily: [to Aria] You’re suppose to stop her from doing stupid things like this, not help.

Aria: You know, years from now, people are gonna see this memorial… …and that’s all they’ll ever know about Ali. She’ll be the girl that they dedicated the bench to. And we’ll all be gone, but Ali will still be remembered.

Sean: Did you get – Aria: The flowers? Yeah. Don’t ever do that again. Sean: I’m sorry, are you – Aria: I’m one of Hanna’s best friends, Sean… The person you should be sending flowers to. Sean: I was just saying thanks for – Aria: No, you were saying ‘Screw you, Hanna.’ Sean: Okay, maybe I was, but can you blame me? She makes a big deal about going together, then bails. Aria: Stop! Hanna loves you, and you know it. She hasn’t talked about any other guy since the seventh grade, and believe me, it’s boring how much she loves you. Why would you want to hurt her?

Hanna: This was Shana’s. Aria: What? Hanna: Let’s just put it back. Aria: No, no, no. Hold on a second. Oh my God, look what she underlined. “It is a curious subject whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his subject.” Hanna: Aria, it’s probably just a school assignment. Aria: No, this is about Ali and Jenna and us. This is about being ‘A.’ Hanna: No, this is about you trying to paw through Shana’s things when you should be trying to forget about her. Aria: Well, there might be something in here. Hanna: Just stop.

Aria: Shana wasn’t “A.” I killed an innocent person. Ezra: Shana wasn’t innocent, Aria. Aria: Yeah, but the cops aren’t gonna believe that when they find out how long I’ve been covering this up. And it’s only a matter of time before “A” exposes what I did.

Aria: Look, Ezra, what happened the other night… Ezra: Felt right, didn’t it? Aria: It doesn’t mean that things can go back to the way that they were. Ezra: So what does it mean? Aria: Oh, I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t miss it, us, because I do. Ezra: I do, too. Aria: Yeah, but then I remember everything that happened and how we met, all the lies that you told. Ezra: Believe me, I wish I could go back and change things. Aria: But you can’t. And the other night was a mistake.

Simone: Your mom tells me you kept quite an intense journal, while you were away.

Aria: I try not to look back, but if there’s anything that I could change it would be that night.

Aria: Guys, please, enough with Jason for a minute. Mona knows that we were in New York. Don’t you understand? Okay, it’s only a matter of time before she runs out of whistles and start tearing our balloons and say Aria killed Shana. Hanna: Okay, whistles? Emily: Aria, stop. Okay. Mona does not know about Shana. Aria: Then who does? Who? Who is screwing with me? And you keep me telling me that “A” is dead. Hanna: “A” is dead, Aria. Aria: Then why am I hearing a violin in my backyard? Who’s the fiddler on my freaking roof?

[throwing the file into the water] Aria: There! It’s done! Okay? We never saw it. We don’t even know it exists. Can we leave now? Please?

Emily: Aria. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just got your text… I was with Ali. What are you doing? Aria: If we’ve been out here hiding her for a month it sure as hell needs start looking like it. Emily: Seriously, you can’t do this right now. Aria: Yeah, you’re right. We should have been out here last night filling this place with crap after Alison got that text. Oh, and thank you for keeping me in the dark about that. What am I? Your child? Emily: We only did that because you were such a mess when your dad came to the police station. Aria: Yeah and what? What you thought if I got a good night’s sleep, I’d just wake up in candy land? Emily: Okay, Aria calm down. That text wasn’t from “A”. Aria: How do you know that? Emily: Because I was there when Shana-slash-A was killed. Look… Spencer was right. It’s one thing not to contradict Ali’s story and it’s another to add to it. We can’t go down that rabbit hole again. Aria: Yeah, well, I can’t do nothing, all right? Because if “A” knows that I took down Shana.. Emily: Aria… Aria: I’m gonna be the… Emily: Shana had been using us as target practice for months, what you did was purely self-defense. Aria: It doesn’t matter. Someone is dead. All right, and she will never be able to recover or apologize or even graduate from high school because I killed her. I killed her, Emily, and I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to live with that. (breathes heavily) Emily: Aria… in that moment, it was you or her. I went through this after… Nate. You think that no one can understand what this feels like, but I’ve been there.

Aria: Hey. Oh, my God. Guys. She is seriously freaking me out. She knows that we were in New York. She threatened Ali. What if she knows about Shana, too? Spencer: Aria, look, you need to take a psychological selfie right now. You’re letting your paranoia get the better of you. Aria: Really? How do you know that all this isn’t all about Shana? Spencer: Because it’s not. It’s all about Ali. I’ve been fielding questions about her all day.

Aria: Hi. Sorry, it was really stupid of me not to call. Ezra: No, it’s okay. Is everything all right? Sit down, sit down. Aria: I can’t stop thinking about Shana’s family. I mean, every time I close my eyes all I can see is her grandmother and just how destroyed and how empty she looked at her funeral. Ezra: How did you know what she looked like at the funeral? Aria: ‘Cause I watched it online, many times. Ezra: Aria, you’re just going to have to find a way to forgive yourself.

Aria: Oh, I’m just a friend. I wasn’t able to send flowers so I was wondering if I could donate to the cost of the service. Woman: Well, her grandmother’s been a member of our congregation for a long time. I’m certain she would want to thank you for your… Aria; Oh, no, no, I’d really, really rather the donation be anonymous. Is it possible to send cash?

Aria: Okay, we need to get these boxes out of here right now. Ezra: Okay, let’s just slow down a second here. Aria: Tanner’s probably on her way back here with a search warrant. Ezra: She’s not on her way back here. Aria: How can you say that? I mean she basically said she knows that Shana was the one that shot you. Ezra: Well, then why would she want to search my place? Aria: ‘Cause she knows that you’re hiding something, that’s why. Ezra: Well, she’s gonna need a whole lot more than suspicion to get a search warrant. Aria: If she does come back, she’s gonna find proof that you were lying about how well you knew Shana and that Ali wasn’t kidnapped. Ezra: I guess I could move this stuff into my storage unit. Aria: Wait, no. No, because if it’s registered in your name they’re just gonna search that, too. Hmm, okay, let’s just put everything in my attic until we find a better place. My dad’s in Syracuse until Sunday. Ezra: Okay. That’s a good idea. Oh, what is this? Aria: Oh, my God, I think that’s supposed to be Mrs. DiLaurentis. Ezra: How can you tell? Aria: I mean that’s her house. She was obsessed with her roses. And she definitely wore scarves like that. Ezra: Bethany. Aria: How many Bethanys do you know? Ezra: Just one. And she was buried in Mrs. DiLaurentis’ backyard. Aria: Ezra, who would want you to have this? Ezra: Why? Aria: My money’s on “A”.

Aria Montgomery (Pretty Little Liars): ISFP was originally published on MBTI Zone

[daresplaining]

What are your thoughts on Evil!Matt Murdock from the Spider-Gwen universe? He's obviously very different from the Matts of other universes, but what might he have in common with them? Do you think he'll end up with a redemption arc, or will he stay a villain? Sorry that most of this is so vague, but I'm just REALLY into alternate versions of characters.

    We’re loving evil Matt. He’s so gleefully malevolent! It’s great fun to see a version of this character who has the life he wants and is enjoying every minute of it.

    (Gosh, look at him…)

    As you know (and in case anyone doesn’t), there are many, many Matt Murdock-inhabited alternate universes (both Marvel and DC are big on alternate universes), and someday we should do a comprehensive post about all of them, because there’s great variety. There is (to name a few) a Matt without superpowers, a Matt who is an agent of SHIELD, a Matt who is a demonic chef, several zombie Matts, Matts from a range of time periods and social backgrounds, a whole bunch of tragically deceased Matts, and even a Matt who is a mouse.

Mouse Murdock: “Stay back, Fisk, or you’re going to have a long, bad day.”

[Howard the Human #1 by Scottie Young, Jim Mahfood, and Justin Stewart]

    Thanks to this range of interpretations, which play with and subvert almost every aspect of Matt’s character, there are actually very few consistent cross-universe qualities that tie them together. He’s usually blind, and tends to possess that strength/stubbornness of spirit that is such a staple of the DD narrative. But beyond that, they’re all over the place.

    The variant we think bears the closest resemblance to Spider-Gwen’s Matt is from the What If? Daredevil VS Elektra one-shot by Karl Bollers. In this universe it is young Matt, rather than Elektra’s father, who is killed during the hostage situation at Columbia University. The Hand, who are aware of Matt’s abilities and training, steal his body and resurrect him to fight for them. Taking on the moniker “The Advocate” (because of course he does), he performs the Hand’s dirty work for years until crossing paths once more with Elektra– now a SHIELD agent– who must put aside the knowledge of who he once was in order to take him down.

Elektra: “I’m here to stop you.”

Matt: “From doing what? Bringing order to chaos? Imagine these widowmakers without my guidance. You’re still holding onto the ideals of youth. Your father raised you in a sheltered, protected bubble allowing you limited contact with the rest of the world. Clouded your thoughts with fairy tale notions of ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

[What If? Daredevil VS Elektra by Karl Bollers, Rafael Kayanan, and Lovern Kindzierski]

    It’s a straightforward (albeit quite nuanced) Elektra/Matt role reversal, and given the core concept of Earth-65– in which a tragically dead past love switches places with her superhero counterpart– we were originally expecting Spider-Gwen Matt’s situation to be similar. 

    We learn, via his character page at the end of Spider-Gwen vol. 2 #3, that Earth-65 Matt has the same basic origin story as his 616 counterpart, though he isn’t trained by Stick until after Jack’s death. An unspecified amount of time later, the Hand kill Stick and adopt Matt, finishing his training and inducting him into their ranks. By the time we first meet him in Edge of Spider-Verse #2 he has become the leader of the western branch of the Hand, and has used his power and influence to take over Wilson Fisk’s criminal dealings while he’s in prison. As in Daredevil VS Elektra, here we have a Hand-trained, Hand-allied Matt who operates as an assassin.

[Spider-Gwen vol. 1 #5 by Jason Latour, Robbi Rodriguez, and Rico Renzi]

    However, there’s clearly a power difference between these two universes. “Advocate” Matt, while technically the leader of the Hand, was brainwashed by his resurrection and operates as a tool to do the Hand’s bidding– while Earth-65 Matt is calling the shots, living a full life, and shows no signs of brainwashing whatsoever. There’s no crisis of conscience and, beyond his affiliation with Fisk, no hint of anyone pulling his strings behind the scenes. He acts solely for his own benefit, offering aid when it best suits him and daring others to compromise their morals by accepting it. He’s a proud ninja/assassin/mob boss/sleazy lawyer, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

Matt: “’Kingpin’?! Moi?! Captain, I’m just a blind servant of justice. Why, I can’t even dress myself.”

[Spider-Gwen vol. 2 #5 by Jason Latour, Chris Visions, and Rico Renzi]

    The obvious question is, then, how did he end up this way? What is the X factor on Earth-65 that turned its Matt willingly villainous? To start, he’s one of those characters whose past has always contained the potential for a super villain origin. There’s even a famous Frank Miller quote about it. Were it not for his optimism and strength of spirit, and his devotion to law and justice, Matt very well could have pulled an Elektra and just given up on humanity. That’s a core part of Elektra’s character concept actually– a demonstration of how someone very like Matt could end up on a non-heroic path. (We wrote a whole post about this, for anyone who wants the rambly details.) In fact, 65 Matt’s situation is much more similar to 616 Elektra’s than that of the other evil Matt, discussed above. 

    One key difference between the 616 and 65 realities is Matt’s support system, or– more specifically– the destruction of it. Young Earth-65 Matt suffers the loss of not one, but both of his parents (616 Matt was raised thinking Maggie was dead, so was never faced with the actual trauma of losing her. To extend this tangent, while we’re here in the parentheses, it’s interesting to note that 65 Maggie is still alive. Did she ever come out of the coma? Is she going to reappear? Are we going to get awkward mother/evil son bonding? Jason Latour, are you reading this?) 

    Then he is taken in by Stick, who is apparently an all-out vigilante crimefighter in this universe. 65 Stick would have been much more of a parental figure to Matt than his 616 counterpart– who was parental to a certain degree, but wasn’t Matt’s sole source of emotional support due to Jack still being around. Note that at this point 65 Matt is still a moral person, operating in what must have been a sidekick role. But then Stick is killed, a third parental figure lost, leaving him alone. The timing on the character bio is a little shaky, but if we go ahead and assume that the timeline is 616-based, Matt would have been in college– and there’s no mention of any other contacts or friends he might have had at this point. No connection to Foggy, as far as we know, who we’re convinced was instrumental in keeping him focused and grounded in the main continuity.

Foggy: “You’ve gotta snap out of it, Matt… like your dad would’ve wanted! We’ll be graduating soon… and I want you to join me, Matt… as my partner!”

[Daredevil vol. 1 #53 by Roy Thomas, Gene Colan, and Artie Simek]

    Another possibility– since Foggy does exist in this universe– is that they did know each other, but had some kind of falling-out. Who knows? Either way, faced with this absolute isolation, it makes some sense that 65 Matt would have seen the Hand as the only place left to go.

    We’re short on details about his time training with the Hand, but his flippant reference to having been “raised by ninjas” (in Spider-Gwen vol. 2 #5) suggests that he does think of them as family. If brainwashing was involved, it was very subtle, but at that point it may not even have been necessary. The Hand would have offered him a purpose, a direction, and an opportunity to make something of himself– all offers that would have appealed to a seemingly directionless Matt. They would have offered him empowerment– both literal and metaphorical– which is something Matt has always strived for, regardless of the universe. Seeing a hero like Stick fail might have colored his perception of how effective good guy justice could be. And the loss of everyone he has previously cared for could have hardened young Matt enough to allow him, in conjunction with his Hand training, to suppress his respect for human life.

��   It’s tough to say at this point whether or not he’ll get a redemption arc, but his current trajectory makes it seem unlikely. Unless this has all been an act to cover up for some bigger scheme yet to be revealed, he hasn’t shown any signs that he’s at all interested in redemption. The criminal thing seems to be working out very well for him, and as charming and entertaining as he his, he hasn’t yet displayed any in-universe redeeming qualities. He wouldn’t have any desire or motivation to become a good guy at this point because he just keeps winning.

Gwen: “But… why?”

Matt: “I don’t know. Why not? Because I can? Or maybe it’s just that the season is the reason. The “why” doesn’t matter. All that matters is– now I’m your only hope for being Spider-Woman. And that’s fun, right? Like having your own personal Santa Claus.”

[Spider-Gwen vol. 2 #15 by Jason Latour, Robbi Rodriguez, and Rico Renzi]

    But it’s also entirely possible that this could change. His seemingly positive upbringing, and the superhero training he received from Stick, suggests that he was once a moral person. There’s been a trend in this series of exploring villains’ motivations, often as a way of paralleling Gwen’s personal journey. Harry Osborn and Jesse Drew received this treatment, as– to a certain degree– did Frank Castle and Mysterio. Evil Cindy Moon’s motivations are clear, even if she’s still very much an antagonist. Heck, we even got a bit of Bodega Bandit’s life story. If Matt sticks around (which he clearly will) and as Gwen starts to spend more time with him, it’s likely his backstory will start to make its way into the narrative. At the very least, we might get a sense of exactly why he’s so interested in recruiting Spider-Woman, which could involve more than simply wanting a powerful pawn to play with. This would open the door for a more complex understanding of his motivations, if not a full redemption arc. That, we feel, would require his plans to start failing him, and for the cushy life he’s been leading as a villain to develop some cracks.

    Currently, he seems to have four points of potential weakness: S.I.L.K., George Stacy’s upcoming trial, Fisk, and Gwen herself. Despite Matt’s current *cough* truce with Cindy, S.I.L.K. is still his biggest rival for power in the criminal underworld– and they could very easily turn on him. We honestly doubt Matt will have any trouble with the trial, if it even ends up happening at all, but it’s fun to imagine D.A. Foggy Nelson kicking him around the courtroom a bit, isn’t it? We also don’t know how Fisk feels about Matt having taken over as Kingpin, or whose idea the transition of power even was. Once he gets out of prison, is Fisk going to want his job back? And of course, at some point Gwen is going to find the power and leverage to start fighting against Matt’s blackmail. She is the hero, after all, and it’s practically guaranteed that she will beat him in the end. And who knows where that might lead?  

    As one final tangent, we wanted to point out the “Skills/Talents” section of 65 Matt’s character bio:

“Skills/Talents: Murdock’s superhuman abilities give him a unique synthesis between his motor reflexes and the outside world– particularly a refined motor control and sense of balance. Little is yet known about the extent of Murdock’s ninja training during his time abroad, though his command of both his powers and respect of the ninjas in his employ suggest that he not only completed his training, but thrived.”

   616 Matt received only basic ninja training– which was more than enough to turn him into a badass, of course, but which also left him locked out of a lot of the upper level, magic-based Chaste/Hand skills. But here we have a version of Matt who has reached his full potential. High level Hand ninjas can do all sorts of cool things, from bringing people back from the dead to taking over the minds of others… and we are really excited to see what kinds of tricks 65 Matt has up his sleeve.   

[trendingnewsb]

5 YouTube Personalities Who Escaped From Scandal Unscathed

I’ve come to the conclusion that a big YouTube personality could hunt people on a private island, make a video about it called “Human Death Prank,” and that it would A) get several million views and B) would have no lasting consequences for the YouTuber.

We’ve fallen into a pattern wherein there’s a new scandal featuring one of these people every month, and it always ends the same way. The performer will lay low for a few weeks. YouTube might slap them on the wrist, maybe an advertiser drops. Then they’ll just start churning out the exact same content, having learned nothing and making just as much (in some cases more) money than before. Here, let’s revisit some recently scandalized social media celebs and see where they are now …

5

Logan Paul

You probably know Logan Paul as one of the many YouTube celebrities who looks like all of his hair is trying to escape from his head.

Logan Paul/YouTubeHis father is a Bloomin’ Onion and his mother a can of Red Bull.

You might also have heard of his most recent scandal, in which he posted a video of a suicide victim’s corpse in Japan’s Aokigahara forest. After a public uproar, he spoke to Michael Strahan on Good Morning America, saying, “I am a good guy who made a bad decision” — a claim that is 100 percent true if you remove the word “good” from it.

For you see, good guy Logan Paul has a storied past of doing things that are objectively dumb and also terrible. Like the time he pretend to be shot in the back of the head in front a crowd of screaming 10-12-year-old children. As soon as he returned to YouTube after the suicide forest video controversy, he immediately showed his respect for the sanctity of life by pulling a fish out of a pond and pretending to give it CPR and tasing some dead rats.

YouTube cited Paul’s “recent pattern of behavior” (corporate speak for “We’re secretly worried this person might be a budding serial killer”) when they decided to suspend ad revenue on his account, which has 16 million subscribers, many or most of whom are children. The suspension lasted for two whole weeks. It’s been reported that he actually gained around 80,000 subscribers after his recent controversies. And why not? He made international headlines. You can’t buy that kind of publicity!

And the next time he thinks his channel needs a boost, well, now he knows exactly how to do it.

4

Carter Reynolds

If you Google “Carter Reynolds,” the first result is a Business Insider article titled “The Rise And Fall Of Cater Reynolds.” Directly below that is the link for Reynolds’ Twitter account. He has 3.08 million followers. That … seems like a pretty cushy fall, but we’ll come back to that.

Reynolds got his start on Vine (remember that?), where at some point he is reported to have had four million followers — enough that he was able to get sponsorships from brands like Coca-Cola and travel the U.S. with “The Carter Tour.” He’s the kind of social media star who’s not particularly famous for anything more than being affable and good-looking in a non-threatening way that’s especially appealing to young girls. A few weeks ago, he tweeted “frozen yogurt sounds so good right now” …

Carters Reynolds/Twitter

… and it was retweeted 451 times. That’s pretty representative of his creative output.

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In June of 2015, a video was leaked of Reynolds (19 at the time) and his ex-girlfriend, fellow social media star Maggie Lindemann (16 at the time). In it, Reynolds tries to pressure the visibly intoxicated Lindemann into giving him oral sex while he records it. Lindemann continuously repeats “I can’t” and “This makes me so uncomfortable” until he turns off the camera. Reynolds at first apologized in a single-line tweet, but then did a quick 360, saying on a YouNow stream that Lindemann owed him an apology for “things you guys don’t know about.” He added, “I didn’t rape her. She knows that herself … The fact that she’s trying to be all innocent now or something … it didn’t affect her that much. I know it didn’t.”

When Lindemann tweeted that she was in the hospital shortly after the video was released, Reynolds responded by tweeting, “Maggie is saying I’m the reason why she’s in the hospital … lol nah you’re just crazy and psychotic. Fuck you.” After receiving backlash, he then threatened to commit suicide on Twitter, apologized for it, and took a social media sabbatical.

The result? Well, in addition to his 3.08 million Twitter followers, today he has 3.2 million Instagram followers and 817,000 YouTube subscribers. While he’s no longer sponsored by Coca-Cola, he still does sponsored Instagram posts, including a recent one for Core water. He also sells merchandise and is getting ready to launch a clothing line with his new girlfriend, who is an Instagram model. Don’t follow his example, kids, or else that wretched fate may befall you too.

3

Sam Pepper

Sam Pepper is a former Big Brother UK contestant who managed to translate his brief reality TV fame into YouTube fame. He’s known for “pranking” people, which to be fair, isn’t some outrageous new trend. When I was in high school, guys were trying to punch each other in the dick and film it like Jackass, or screaming, “You just got Punk’d!” after knocking a friend’s book out of his hands.

The difference between Pepper and Ashton Kutcher is that Pepper’s audience is younger, and there’s no “Don’t try this at home kids” warning running in front of his content. His first controversy came in 2014, when he uploaded a video he called “fake hand ass pinch video,” which was just him pinching unsuspecting women’s asses with his real hand. After the backlash over the video, several women came forward with detailed accounts of sexual harassment and rape by Pepper. At least one rape accusation was investigated by the LAPD, but Pepper was never charged because the victim was not willing to testify after her father told her it would hurt her career.

Pepper continued his successful YouTube channel until 2015, when he staged another hilarious prank in which he convinced a young Vine star that his best friend was brutally murdered in front of him. After months of criticism about this incident, Pepper publicly confessed that his pranks were all faked, because if you did the things he pretended to do in public, you would be arrested. He then made his YouTube account private and deleted all of his tweets, going dark online for three whole months.

Today he still has 2.3 million YouTube subscribers despite infrequent posting (his latest video is called “HOW TO BUY ALCOHOL UNDERAGE * IT WORKED *”), plus he can boast another 1.3 million fans between Twitter and Instagram, plus some unknowable number of Snapchat followers. Oh, and he’s out there on the front line defending Logan Paul’s suicide forest video. Everyone is so triggered, you guys!

2

PewDiePie

PewDiePie is the Titan of YouTube. There’s really no comparable star in the old media world right now. You would have to make a human centipede out of George Clooney, Matt Damon, Brad Pitt, and Ryan Gosling to approximate the star power that PewDiePie has on YouTube. He currently has 61 million subscribers, ahead of his closest competitor by 23 million. Like a medically resistant staph infection, there just doesn’t seem to be anything that can stop him from growing.

In February of 2017, he paid two men on Fiverr (a “Pay strangers to do things for $5” site) to hold up a sign that said “Death to all Jews,” under the guise of this being the weirdest thing he could think to have somebody do for that amount of money.

PewDiePie/YouTube“Don’t forget to ‘Like’ and ‘Genocide’!”

Thanks to an article in The Wall Street Journal, the outrage went mainstream and a whole generation of old people had to figure out how to say “PewDiePie.”

The incident caused Disney’s Maker Studios to cut ties with him, as well as YouTube to drop him from their Google Preferred ad program. PewDiePie responded with a video saying his actions were a joke, which kind of isn’t the point. (Meanwhile, neo-Nazi website The Daily Stormer featured a blog post congratulating him for “making the masses comfortable with our ideas.”)

But hey, anybody can screw up once. Seven months after this apology, however, PewDiePie loudly and clearly yelled the N-word while streaming an online game, noting later that he’d forgotten he was streaming to the public (you know, it’s the kind of thing he normally only says among friends). This time he said, “I’m not going to make any excuses for why I did it, because there are no excuses for it.” He went on to say he was disappointed in himself.

By now, you know how the story ends. The kind of thing that would have permanently sank the career of, say, a Seinfeld co-star is but a scratch on the hull of PewDiePie’s Star Destroyer. According to Forbes, he made 20 percent less than his 2016 earnings … which means he netted $12 million. Meanwhile, he gained about two million subscribers after the controversies, seemingly without losing any.

1

JonTron

Since this is 2018 and we find ourselves involuntarily grading racism on a curve, it’s easy to argue that PewDiePie isn’t as bad as the swarm of unapologetic racists that fill YouTube. He repeatedly says he doesn’t believe those things, that it’s all just shock value humor, that he’s learned his lesson, etc. That is not the case for JonTron, who was extremely eager to tell the world that those are in fact his views.

JonTron has 3.9 million subscribers on his YouTube channel, and turns up on a couple of others. He’s actually pretty funny — his whole persona is the cuddly nerd next door. Which is why it was so shocking to his fans when he took to Twitter to defend Republican Senator Steve King’s comment that “We can’t restore our civilization with somebody else’s babies.”

JonTron/Twitter

When people called him out for it, he decided to clarify his views on the subject by discussing them with Steve Bonnell, a Twitch streamer knows as Destiny. Over the course of an excruciating two hours, JonTron clarified in great detail that he thinks racial purity is extremely important to the future of America, and that he fears the day whites become a minority (which he estimated would happen in 2042).

In response to angry fans, he said, “The fact that people think it’s troubling is what’s troubling.” In the course of the debate, he also claimed that wealthy black Americans commit more crimes than poor white Americans, that Mexicans are somehow attempting to recapture American land, and that “We don’t need immigrants from incompatible places.” Gee, I wonder which places he considers incompatible?

He then issued an apology for his clarification, saying, “I do completely understand that historically the African American community has had a raw deal in this country. Discrimination certainly exists but I do believe it goes all ways.” And later, “Any of the things in the stream that could be considered weird sounding or off-putting, I probably agree with you that they were. So, I hope you don’t read too much into it.”

OK? He seemed to swing wildly between “I’m a comedian, I don’t want to talk about politics” and “But here are my terrible politics, and if you don’t like them, you’re policing my thoughts” before finally landing on “Don’t listen to the things that I say.” At this point, do we even need to point out not only that JonTron still has his millions of subscribers, but also that his videos are still sponsored? The only lasting effect seems to be the entry about the controversy on his Wikipedia page.

The promise of the internet was always that there’d be no gatekeepers. You can publish directly to the world, bypassing editors, publishers, censors, TV networks, etc. Well, here it is. There is nothing between these guys and their audience, and what we’ve found is that their audience is not scared away by sexism, racism, or anything else.

The rest of us will have our weeks of outrage, and we’ll see vague headlines about boycotts and suspensions. While we’re patting ourselves on the back, these guys know they just need to hunker down for a bit and weather it. They know the audience isn’t going anywhere, and as long as the eyeballs are there, the money will follow. No matter what.

Ever notice how normal photographers are never embroiled in scandals? Stick to still-life with a Nikon DSLR camera.

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