#the meeting thing is USELESS it’s the same thing they’ve been telling us since the beginning of the year

[itwaslegendary]

even though i’m done with high school i have to go take an english exam tomorrow and attend some pointless meeting on thursday and i hate it because i was so happy to finally get rid of all those people’s faces who have made my life living hell these past 6 years but nahhh they’re really making me get up at 7 to waste my time

i mean the exam is important yeah but be serious you could’ve made us take it before school finished for us……. just like every other teacher…… idk just an idea

[fuck-customers]

More stuff from the lab and our imminent closure. I know by the time this is posted this will all be long over, but at the moment I’m having a lot of Feelings

So recently it was announced our lab would be closing May 15th, but they’ve been steadily firing people here and there the whole time since the announcement. Which truly doesn’t make sense to me, because at the time we found out about the closure everyone only had about a month and a half left, so why bother firing people early when we’re all leaving soon anyway? Especially because there are plenty of people who should have been let go way sooner for not doing shit, taking too long breaks, and treating others rudely, and there’s been basically no consequences for anything this whole time, but I digress.

So back to the firing thing, as of yesterday (May 2) we were down to about 20 people from 45, in our department. Then right before shift ended our supervisor said there was going to be a big meeting in one of the break rooms with our shift and day shift (we’re graveyard). But after that he pulls me and 3 other coworkers aside and says we need to go upstairs to have a separate meeting in the conference room. One of these people is my friend H, and on the way upstairs we were talking about what’s going on, thinking we’ll be getting fired next.

But here comes the twist: Me, H, and the two others (M and D) were told that we’re the only people in our department that will be working the full duration of our remaining contracts (last shift May 15th), and everyone else who was in the big meeting is being fired that day.

We were all pretty shocked, to say the least. I know our sample volume is decreasing, but the day before we got in just about 6000 samples. How do they expect 4 people to properly process all of those samples (assuming that amount comes in still going forward)?

Not to mention that there were definitely other people in our department that deserved this chance way more than others. D can be rather lazy and doesn’t do much work, plus already has a second job to fall back on, meanwhile M likes to act like a lead and micromanage and tell us what to do in a passive aggressive/condescending way. I’m not even going to say that I necessarily deserved to be here still, since I’m disabled and can’t do as much as others to help with certain work areas.

They said it was a “first in, last out” kind of thing, and we were all technically the first people hired (everyone else was only off by a few days or weeks, since we were all brought in at the same time when the lab itself opened) but still. This whole closure thing has been so improperly managed.

I also heard from friends who were let go that after the meeting Y from HR (who hasn’t done her job this whole fucking time and is one of the most useless people I’ve ever met) was trying to rush everyone out like she was a damn air traffic controller. One of my coworkers went back into the lab to close down her computer and clean up or something and Y came in and was saying like “you need to leave now or else I’m going to call security”. Like why would you act like that after you just fired 100 or so people? These are human beings handling hard news, they’re going to want to say goodbye to friends and have time to process what’s going on, it’s not like they’re gonna go smash computers or whatever. It’s just so disrespectful.

I was thankfully able to say goodbye to pretty much everyone I was good friends with, and we have ways to stay in touch, but it’s still such a weird thing to go through. I’m glad I’m one of the lucky ones getting to stay, especially because I really need these last paychecks, but I still feel pretty guilty seeing everyone else leave. It’s so empty in the parking lot/building and quiet without everyone around. Just wish things had gone different for everyone.

[junowritings]

Love what you did for the s/o protecting them request, can I get the same request but with riddle, Vil, and Lilia?

I’m glad you liked it hun~! Apologies for the long wait but here’s another installment for the protective S/O, I sincerely hope you enjoy~! ---------- Riddle

♡ Riddle’s a force to be reckoned with - he takes his position seriously and attends to all matters in a manner of care befitting of a dorm head. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so effective at what he does, and the knowledge and discipline at his disposal works in his favor most of the time. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t attract the ire of others in doing so, if anything, Riddle has amassed quite the number of people who have found some kind of issue with the way that he runs things, and they’ve confronted him in a myriad of ways. Ranging from hurling insults to trying to use their unique magic to their advantage, Riddle’s been swift to handle any such altercations before they got out of hand, so they escalate to anything serious thanks to the usage of his own magic. However, the balance shifts slightly after the unbirthday party event.

♡ Sure, he may be...overly harsh, at times, but after the overblot incident he’s been wanting to make a change for the better. Of course this has been a long winded process, full of little steps, but he’s been making good progress - and you’ve been there through the whole thing, with reassuring smiles and words of affirmation during moments of doubt. It seems that in doing so, some bothersome students see that as a moment of weakness and a chance to bring old grievances to light, believing they can finally get payback, and they eagerly circle in to take advantage of the situation.

♡ Riddle sees it coming, or at least notices that they’re approaching him for a fight when some students move in to surround him in the common room. He takes in the sour expressions, watching them look between one another as though wordlessly seeking a spokesperson for their little group, before Riddle breaks the silence to ask if there’s anything they want to say. One of them steps forward, face twisting up in anger as they jam a finger into his face, yelling about how dare he act as though he did nothing wrong - does he not remember the humiliation he put them all through, shackling them with those damn collars and stripping them of their magic?!

♡ The question is useless - of course Riddle remembers every person he’s used his magic on, it helps no one if he forgot who had been subjected to having their magic stripped away. Riddle also remembers all of the reasons that he’s used said magic, and looking up into the faces that surround him, he can pinpoint exactly what it was that got them put in those collars - vandalism being the particular offense of the student shouting in front of him. Bringing up such facts are useless - it won’t do anything to quell their anger - but he does anyway if only to acknowledge that he’s well aware of who they are. He stands by using his unique magic in those instances, because even if he is working to be more lenient he’s not going to overlook offenses that reflect badly on the dorm and put his fellow students at risk.

♡ His comment only proves to rile up the group - a chorus of hisses and whispers break out as the person before him grits his teeth hard enough Riddle can hear them clack as the student pulls his expression back into a snarl. That hand is still waving in his face, and Riddle, finally fed up with the situation, bats it away and takes a step back to create some distance, already reaching for his wand just in case someone gets the wild idea to bring magic into what is seemingly beginning to escalate into a fight.

♡ Someone in the ring notices his hand move and yells, and the student before him grits his teeth again with a growl. The finger in his face fans out into a hand, grabbing ahold of Riddle’s face hard enough that their nails etch violent red crescents into his skin as he’s yanked forward into the centre of the circle. The voices all crescendo into a chorus of conflicting views - some of them are cheering the scene on while others are shuffling nervously voicing their concerns of things going too far - either way the guy pays no attention to their words and tightens his grip, keeping him rooted into place as he winds a fist back. Riddle grapples with the hand grabbing him, teeth gritted and trying to wrench off the grip with no success; the look he gives the student holding him is scathing, eyes narrowed even as he eyes the raised fist with clear apprehension. The first hit makes contact with his cheek, the second Riddle manages to wrench his head enough to the side to just scrape across the side of his head; however the third freezes in its tracks when a voice bellows out across the crowd, and someone pushes into the circle.

♡ All too quickly, Riddle is shoved away and as he brings a hand to cradle his face a shadow moves to stand between him and the student who grabbed him. Riddle recognizes your voice immediately, and your words drip with venom as you lunge forward and shove the student away, snarling as you verbally tear into them and stun the entire group into silence. ♡ Rarely has Riddle seen you so enraged, but the anger flashes in your eyes as your hands balled into fists, just daring someone to step forward and try taking them on. Just like that it’s as though the wind has been ripped from their sails and the angry mob all but deflates, none of them making a move despite sticking you with resentful glares. 

♡ You pay them no mind, backtracking slowly till you’re side by side with Riddle, and the dorm leader admittedly starts when he feels your hands slip around his shoulders, guiding him to move along with you as you start to make your way back towards the door. The crowd is still blocking the way, hesitating, but when you stick them with a scowl and keep approaching them the group parts and gives you a wide berth, and soon enough you’ve led Riddle out of the room and down the hall, not pausing for a second. It’s only once you’re a safe distance away that you actually speak to him, voice quiet yet firm as you ask him if he’s okay. He glances up at you  - your eyes are trained on the walkway ahead, but he catches your gaze occasionally flickering to look at him or, more accurately, the marks marring his face. Riddle can only imagine what he must look like; the nail marks no longer sting, however the side of his face throbs in a way that bodes poorly for his hopes of it not bruising. The thought makes Riddle seethe, and he honestly has half a mind to go back and take all of their heads till they graduate. But then he watches your expression soften, voice wavering with concern as you tell him that you’ll head straight to Crowley and let him know what happened as soon as you got him to the infirmary - it’s likely not needed, but your concern for him gives the dorm leader enough pause on the thought of going back. He can deal with those delinquents later, for now he lets you guide him, giving his shoulders a comforting squeeze and making sure he stays close.

Vil

♡ People know better than to pick fights with Vil - he’s the epitome of the fact that appearances can be deceiving, and it’s something that the first, second and third years have all learned quickly since he’s worked his way up to dorm leader.  Those that have attempted to take him on in the past have severely underestimated his abilities - he’s not just proficient in magic, but in actual physical scraps. You wouldn’t believe it at first glance, but he’s been involved in fights before, and while he would rather avoid them if they do come up he’s not about to turn tail and flee when he can confront them directly and give anyone stepping out of line a brutal lesson.

♡ He fights swift and harsh, ending quarrels with little more than a bat of the eye. Anyone actively picking fights with Vil is either the most competent magic user this side of twisted wonderland, or they’re naive fools - either way Vil refuses to let such quarrels stand for longer than they have to and has learned to handle them effectively. That’s one of the reasons why when people have a bone to pick with him they rarely ever act on it, much less approach him directly about their perceived sleights; so if someone were to try and accost him it would be quite the confrontation.

♡ Vil spots them before they even approach him - the cautious eyes and whispering is nowhere near as inconspicuous as those students may believe it to be, so Vil’s got his eyes on them from the get-go, just waiting for them to pluck up the courage to confront him directly. They’re up front at least, the abrupt shout of his name gaining the dorm leader’s full attention as the self-proposed leader struts forward with squared shoulders and a seething glare. They’re none too happy, and Vil’s face is tempered into a calm expression as he rises to meet them halfway, the other students of their group trailing behind to see the turnout of this conversation. 

♡ Only there is no conversation, as they don’t even give the dorm head a chance to speak before they take a swing at him. An open palm flies up to meet with his face but Vil wordlessly intercepts it, hand wrapping around the student’s wrist and keeping a firm hold as he narrows his eyes, dropping the pleasantries.  They’re taken aback by the action, and flounder in retaliation, attempting to wrench their hand free from his grip with an angry hiss. Vil has half the mind to consider their plead for him to let go, willing to pass it off as an action pushed by emotion if they apologize and back down; however he doesn’t have the time to release his hold when the student throws up their free hand, curled up into a fist aiming straight for his jaw.

♡ That hand is snagged just as swiftly, however it’s not Vil who catches it. Vil inclines his head to the side watching you step into view, grip hard enough that your knuckles are turning white as you wordlessly stare down Vil’s would-be aggressor. The harshness in your expression hardly fits the usual warmness you exude in his presence, your entire demeanour cold and hostile as you squeeze a little tighter. It’s only once you hear the student yelp and try to step away that both you and Vil simultaneously release your grip, giving them the chance to backpedal and, after a moment of looking desperately between the pair of you, flee back to their group and out of the room.

♡ You make a blunt quip about how they trip over their own feet to get away, grumbling about how ironic it is that they’re the same person who thought it was such a good idea to take a swing at your boyfriend. You’re still glowering in their direction when a hand brushing across your cheek directs your attention back to Vil, the anger on your face washing away into a curious look once you get a look at the calm expression on his face. How is he so chill about this? Shouldn’t he be angry too? It’s not like that person even gave him a reason for picking a fight, just swinging out of nowhere without telling Vil what he’d even done wrong! 

♡ Vil’s voice cuts off your stewing, stating that he didn’t quite realize you had such a bite. That gets him a huff in response as you cast another look at the door the group fled out of, and Vil half-suspects that he may have to step in before you decide to go follow them, so he pulls your focus back to him as he continues. His words of praise for having such a ‘dedicated bodyguard’ are earnest, though you don’t miss the teasing edge behind them; you grumble but don’t turn away as you mutter that of course you’d step in - he can protect himself but that doesn’t mean you’re just going to stand there and let it happen - you want him to know he can rely on you. That nets you a smile and another brush of his hand along your cheek, an action that has you puffing out your chest as you flash a confident grin of your own.

Lilia

♡ It’s hard to imagine that many would have the guts to take on Lilia without some kind of elaborate trick up their sleeve. The Diasomnia dorm itself is an imposing dorm, both in appearances and in the students who reside there, with one of the more intimidating dorm heads as their leader to boot. Needless to say its reputation precedes them, so there’s few people who would so openly voice their grievances unless they’ve got the guts and confidence to back themselves up. Lilia himself is no exception - sure he comes off as playful and more than a little mischievous, but many know better than to actually take that at face value. The rumors surrounding his age and ability alone make some shy away from confrontation - some, but not all.

♡ Perhaps it’s the fact that Lilia is more open and welcoming out of the dorm, or maybe it’s just because some people are too headstrong to let bygones be bygones, but when someone’s got a bone to pick with him, Lilia can hear it coming from a mile away - literally. Even without his impeccable hearing, they’re not exactly quiet about their gripes as they grumble their plans amongst themselves; Lilia would have probably ambled over to see what the ruckus was about if they hadn’t finally decided to come over, rolling up their sleeves and sticking close together as they approach him.

♡ It’s a small group - three students that Lilia recognizes from the other dorms, and at the call of his name he turns to look at them, smiling at them as they approach. That smile falters only a tad upon seeing the angry expressions marring their faces as they approach, seeming to only get angrier when Lilia doesn’t even flinch watching them circle around him. 

♡ One student lunges forward and Lilia sidesteps them without hesitation, spinning only to grab them by the back of their blazer and tug them back onto their feet before they can fall flat on their face and make a fool of themselves. They sputter, whipping around to give the still grinning Diasomnia student an incredulous look before letting out a yowl of frustration and diving for him again. That attempt is just as unsuccessful, and by the fourth attempt to grab him, the guy’s little friends deem it the perfect time to try grappling for the boy, each with varying degrees of failure.

♡ It would almost make for a hilarious sight to anyone watching; their movements get increasingly more desperate the longer Lilia evades their grasp, and he just looks more and more amused by the fact that it’s so easy to slip out of their grips. If they’d approached him more calmly perhaps Lilia wouldn’t have minded staying still and letting them speak, but as things stand they haven’t just come to talk things out - they’ve come to pick a fight, so if they want one they’re going to have it on his terms.  

♡ There’s a yell from the other side of the room, and all four heads turn just in time to catch you rounding the doorway, storming over to them with proverbial hackles raised and a deep enough scowl to make anyone tense. If you weren’t terrifying enough, the person who rounds the corner to follow you certainly does. The moment the other students catch sight of Malleus appearing behind you has them shrieking in unison, and the small group narrowly avoids landing in a pile of limbs on the floor as they try to scatter to the winds and flee. Malleus, who hadn’t seen the confrontation, watches them go with a perplexed expression; you on the other hand look ready to burst as you dart past your partner to chase after them, cusses already bubbling on your lips.

♡ Lilia’s grip is gentle but firm as he tugs you back, essentially stopping you from going after his pursuers. You’re none too pleased about being stopped, but you turn your focus back to him just as quickly, swiveling on your heel till you’re face to face and taking his face into your hands asking if he’s hurt. You look this way and that way, trying to discern if they even got a breath of a hit in - not that they would of course, you knew that but it didn’t hurt to check anyway. Lilia seems chuffed at the attention, letting out a content hum as the mischievous grin on his face mellows out into a happier expression, easing your concerns with his words as he assures you that those students did nothing but get a bit too rambunctious, reassuring you despite the way you glare in the direction they’d ran off when he turns to address Malleus.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend any resources for learning Catalan? I'm a native English speaker who has extended family over in Barcelona. I learnt Spanish as a child and my parents always told me there was no point in learning Catalan, but for a vast amount of my family and friends it's their first language and I've always hated that they have to switch to Spanish so I can participate in the conversation. I'd hoped to take some classes whilst at University, but the universities I have ended up attending don't offer it as a course unfortunately. So, I've decided to learn it by myself!

Hello! First of all, thank you very much for your interest and your effort. It's true there's many people who think it's useless because we already have another language we can switch to (and so must switch to) when a foreigner is present, but I'm sure that (as you already see) it will be very rewarding.

I answered a similar question here. In that post, you can find different resources for learning and practising Catalan, and as always I recommend parla.cat.

But since you already speak another Romance language I'm sure you'll have it easier! I would recommend to get used to hearing the language, for example by watching videos with subtitles.

On TV3 a la carta (the website of Catalonia’s public TV channel) you can find many shows that you can watch for free. All of them have subtitles in Catalan available, and since recently they’ve added the option to use automatically-translated subtitles in Spanish and English. Here’s some shows I recommend:

Crims: a true crime show that has been very successful

El Foraster: this is a very wholesome show where a comedian travels to a different Catalan village in every show. He goes around meeting the villagers in order to make a stand-up comedy style performance about the village, where they’re all invited. It’s very funny and sweet and you get to know more about Catalonia’s small towns.

Polseres Vermelles: a fiction drama about a group of young people in a hospital. This is probably the most successful Catalan TV series of all times, it was even praised by Steven Spielberg.

Merlí: a fiction teenage drama about a high school philosophy class (also on Netflix)

La Riera: a soap opera that was VERY successful some years ago

Eufòria: a singing talent show

Batalla Monumental: a contest where they present different monuments and historical sites in Catalonia

No pot ser!: a journalist visits different places around the world to see what unbelievable turns technology is taking

Cuines: cooking show. (Note: the woman has a Tortosa accent, she’s the only exception. Almost all the others you’ll find in this list have a Central Catalan accent, more similar to what your relatives from Barcelona probably speak)

Trinxeres: three friends walk along the trenchlines of the Spanish Civil War in Catalonia, meeting witnesses and telling their stories

Sense Ficció: documentaries

30 minuts: documentaries about different topics that are 30-45 minutes long

60 minuts: documentaries that are just under an hour long

Telenotícies: this is just the news, but same as the documentaries, the good thing about them is that the presenters always speak in a very clear and standard accent and very correctly (other shows like Eufòria use more slang)

And, of course, I couldn’t not recommend Plats Bruts! The most famous Catalan sit-com that we all love so much. But you might enjoy this one more when you know the language better.

If for now you find those difficult to follow, you could start with dubbed children’s media, because those always have the clearest and most standard accents. You can find shows like Detective Conan, Miraculous Ladybug, Totally Spies, Kung-Fu Panda: incredible legends for foreign media, and for Catalan productions the classics Les tres bessones (three naughty sisters who in every episode are punished by a witch to be trapped in a different fairytale, book story or sent to help a historical character) and Rovelló (the adventuries of the dog Rovelló).

There are also YouTube channels made for people who are learning, so they have subtitles available both in Catalan and in English. For example:

EasyCatalan

Couch Polyglot (has videos in different languages, look for the ones with the Catalan flag)

Català al natural (this one only has subtitles in Catalan, but he has videos about interesting topics and he speaks very clearly and slow enough for learners)

And I also recommend the Instagram account DailyCatalan.

[fanficbitch]

In Another Life // Jane Emily

A/N: The first child between Y/N and Hotch!

Aaron Hotchner x y/n

September 2013

The level of uncomfort I am feeling is indescribable. It hurts when I lay on my side, it hurts when I lay on my back, it hurts to sit. Just everything is painful. I don’t know how people do this multiple times. This might have to be my only pregnancy. 

Aaron has been out on a case for the last four days and I am practically useless. So Jess has been coming over to help and take care of Jack. I don’t know how we would survive without her.

Jess left me propped up against the headboard by at least four pillows. I am nearly sitting up. However, this just happens to be the best position that I have found. I glance at my clock and see that it is nearly 2 in the morning. I have to get some sleep, but I don’t feel that happening soon.

To my surprise, the door to my bedroom opens to reveal Aaron. “What are you still doing up?” he asks as he walks in.

“I can’t sleep. I’m too uncomfortable,” I whine. Aaron gives me a sympathetic look then begins to undress from his suit. “How was the case?”

“A little complicated. We were stumped for a while till Reid had a genius moment and figured it out.”

I chuckle slightly. “He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?”

Once Aaron has his pajamas on he gets into bed and properly greets me with a kiss. “Now, how have you been?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” he confirms.

“I have just been miserable. I can’t sleep or sit properly,” I say then place my hands on my stomach. “I just need this baby out.”

“It should only be a few more days,” Aaron assures me.

“Your time off starts now right?” I ask and he nods. Although him and I both know that he could still be called in at any minute.

Aaron scoots closer to me so he can place his hand on my belly. Almost immediately, I feel kicks at the top of my stomach. Aaron smiles while I wince in pain. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” I mutter.

“You have to admit she knows her daddy,” Aaron smiles. A true smile from him. I am lucky and see them more than most people do, but every time I see one I am overjoyed.

I place my hand on his cheek and his eyes meet mine. “This baby has no idea just how lucky she is,” I say.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Aaron says. He leans in and kisses me slowly until the kicking starts again. I place my hand on top of his hand that rests on my belly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper into his hair.

“Me too,” he smiles.

                                                          **********

When I wake up, it’s to a jolt of pain. With my eyes closed, I reach my hand out and try to find my boyfriend’s hand. After a moment of searching, I open my eyes and see that no one is there.

I check my clock and see that it is almost 7 in the morning, which means Aaron is already knee deep in emails.

I hoist myself out of bed and waddle down the stairs. I find Aaron exactly where I expect to find him, in his office. I peek inside and see him intently staring at his computer with his glasses on. “Hey,” I whisper as I walk in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says and whips off his glasses. He quickly gets up and leads me out of the office and into the living room then onto the couch. Once I’m settled, Aaron takes the other side of the couch. “How was your night?” 

I sigh. “It was rough. I had contractions nearly the whole night, but they’re at least a half hour apart and not lasting very long.”

“Okay, well do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“Always,” I smile.

“On it,” Aaron says and gives me a kiss before heading to the kitchen.

I manage to get a magazine off the coffee table and flip through it for a few minutes, then I get bored. I move to the dining room so I can overlook Aaron in the kitchen as he makes breakfast.

“So, how has work been today?” I ask.

“I’m on vacation,” Aaron tells me.

“Listen honey, we can do this whole thing where we both pretend you aren’t working, but know you are. Or we can just talk about it,” I say as he bites his bottom lip in thought. “I really don’t mind. I like hearing about work.”

“Well in that case, Morgan is taking over for me while I’m gone and he was just asking a few questions,” he says as he butters my toast. “He says he’s going to do his best not to bother us these next two weeks.”

“Hmm, okay,” I hum.

“What?” Aaron asks as he slides the toast in front of me then sits next to me.

“I just don’t think there is anyway you can stay away from work for that long,” I say. “If Morgan doesn’t call you I’m sure you’ll lend your services.”

“That is not true,” he fights back. I raise my eyebrows at him, but still continue to eat my toast. But halfway through my first piece, pain pierces through my stomach. I lean over and clutch my stomach with one hand while my other one finds Aaron’s hand. “Just breathe through it,” Aaron coos and I do. It’s over within 30 seconds, but it was still painful.

I look up and meet his eyes once it’s over. “Are you sure these aren’t braxton hicks?” Aaron asks.

“I’m sure. These are way stronger than ones I’ve gotten earlier,” I say and he nods.

Just then, a sleepy Jack turns into the dining room, still in his pajamas. “Hey buddy,” Aaron says.

“Hey,” Jack croaks then sits at his seat. “Could I have breakfast please?”

“Yes, I will get you some cereal,” Aaron says then runs off to the kitchen. Jack’s sleepy expression quickly turns to happy when he realizes what we’re getting close to.

“Could she come today?” Jack asks excitedly.

“She could,” I say with a nod.

“Can you please, please, please tell me her name?” he begs.

“We aren’t set on anything,” Aaron says as he returns to the dining room with the cereal. Jack looks back at me from his dad and I give him a wink. I’d say we’re pretty set on the name, Aaron just doesn’t completely know that yet. 

Jack quickly finishes his cereal then goes upstairs to get changed. Aaron slips on shoes even though he is still wearing his pajamas. “You’re taking him to school like that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just an interesting choice for someone who usually wears a suit everyday,” I say. “At least I won’t have to worry about any soccer moms hitting on you.”

“I think they’ve learned better by now,” Aaron says as Jack runs down the steps with his bag. “Okay, buddy let’s go,” Aaron says as he ushers him to the garage.

“Bye Jack!” I call.

“Bye Mom!” he calls back and then the door shuts. I’m still not completely used to Jack calling me mom, but I still love it.

I get myself out of the dining room chair then waddle towards the steps. Before I can even get up one step, a gush of water spreads down my legs. Oh no.

                                                         **********

Luckily, it did not take Aaron long to get back. Once he got home, we both sprang into action and grabbed our things then got in the car. 

I got checked in relatively quickly and am currently sitting in my hospital bed. The contractions just keep getting closer and closer together. I know she’s coming soon.

“Aaron,” I say because he is across the room talking to the doctor. He quickly leaves the doctor and comes to my side. “Hold my hand,” I say, nearly begging.

“Of course,” he says and takes my hand. 

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“The doctor is going to check to see how far along you are,” he says and I nod.

Dr. Larson soon pops out from my lower parts with a smile. “Okay, Mama it’s time to push. Are you ready?”

I look to Aaron before responding. He gives me a reassuring nod which gives me more confidence then he’ll ever know. “Let’s do this,” I say.

HOTCH POV

I lightly coo to the new bundle of joy that rests in my arms. I try to be as quiet as possible because Y/N just fell asleep. 

I slowly rock my arms back and forth as my baby stares up at me. She’s calm and quiet, just like her dad. She let out a few cries the moment she was born, but since then she’s been quiet as a mouse. Her eyes flutter open and close, showing me her beautiful brown eyes. 

I glance up at my girlfriend again. I can’t believe we created something so precious. I forgot that feeling when you have a newborn, but it’s all coming back. The warmth, the wholeness, the pureness. I can’t believe I have gone eight years without this feeling.

There is a soft knock at the door, then Jessica pokes her head in. “Can you take a visitor?” she asks and I raise my eyebrow, unsure. She pushes the door open a little wider and Jack carefully steps into the room. Jessica closes the door again to give us some privacy. 

“Can I see her?” Jack asks softly and I nod. He comes the rest of the way over and stares down at her. “She’s really small.”

“You were this small once,” I whisper. We both stare down at her for a moment while she sleeps. 

“Can I have my baby back?” I hear from behind Jack. Y/N has woken up from her very short nap, but has her arms held out for a baby.

“I wanted you to sleep a little longer,” I say as I stand up slowly.

“I can’t,” Y/N says. “This bed is lumpy.”

Finally, Y/N notices Jack and shows a large smile. “Jack! Did you get to meet your sister yet?”

“Yeah, but she’s sleeping,” he says.

Y/N scoots over to make a small empty space on the bed. “Come up here,” Y/N says. Jack hops up on the bed so he is squeezed next to Y/N. “Do you want to hold her?”

Jack nods excitedly. “Okay,” I say as I place her in Jack’s arms. “Make sure you support her head,” I add. Once the nerves go away, I realize my heart is bursting. The three people I love most in the world all in one place.

“Can I know her name now please?” Jack begs.

I look down at Y/N and smile which is all the confirmation she needs. “Okay,” Y/N says. “Her name is-,”

“Hi!” I hear from the doorway. Garcia is standing with a large bouquet of balloons. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, come in,” I say and she does. Garcia sets the balloon holder on the ground then slowly walks up to the bed. She looks down at our baby for a moment, then covers her mouth. 

“Oh my gosh, she is just beautiful!” Garcia says.

“Well we think so,” I say as I stare down at her. She begins to fuss in her swaddle then lets out a loud wail. Y/N takes our baby from Jack then sighs.

“I think she’s hungry,” Y/N says. 

“Okay, we’ll give you guys a minute,” Garcia says then leads Jack out of the room. Before I know it, Y/N is already feeding our baby. I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand Y/N’s leg.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N chuckles.

I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m just so happy,” I say. “I am also so proud of you. I can’t believe you brought this beautiful, little girl into our lives.”

Y/N smiles down at her. “She is pretty perfect.”

I lean forward all the way and give her a kiss. “You’re perfect,” I whisper.

“Oh, Aaron,” Y/N laughs.

The more I think about it, the more I realize my whole life is perfect. I have a beautiful wife, two healthy children and a stable job. There is nothing more I could ever want.

I scoot closer to my daughter and my girlfriend. “Jane, how have we gone this long without you?” I ask.

[hanibalistic]

#5B52AD | NA JAEMIN. NCT DREAM.

genre | fluff, friendship

word count | 2835

warning | a fever, mention of pain

note | i got kind of sick after my first dose of vaccine and i think about is my mother used to sit and rub my tummy whenever i get tummy ache even when it’s 3am.

your body felt heavy, you could not walk without an awkward arch of your back and at an annoyingly slow pace. you haven't gotten a migraine in so long that the gentle ringing in the back of your head now felt like a gradual decomposing of your brain. your tummy gurgled obnoxiously from time to time, confusing your body and mind with hunger and pain.

long story short, you were sick. you got sick, unfortunately, after a streak of good health for the past years, and you barely knew how to take care of yourself now because of how unusual the occurrence was.

you suspected it was the pouring rain you walked under the other day, or the multiple cold nights you've stood through in the unorganized tent area backstage during award shows this past few weeks. either way, since there weren't any other possible reasons, bad weather was the only thing you could blame your sickness on.

you had contacted the team manager about taking a few days off, leisurely estimating your return date while the manager told you to take your time and make sure to only work once you have fully recovered to avoid spreading your sudden fever to the dreamies when you get back. another thing you also asked of, with more grit and firmness this time, was to make sure the manager leak not a single word of you being sick to the boys.

it was true that you have not been sick in a long while, but so far you have gotten a grip on how it works and adapted to being uncomfortable and alone. reminding yourself to take those over-the-counter medicines was annoying but doable. moving around the apartment so you could cook and clean was exhausting but also doable. you did not need an extra pair of hands; it would definitely be good to have one, but you could survive without one.

you knew very well if the boys knew that you caught a fever, they would insist on visiting and taking care of you.

they would probably try to pull up to your apartment with some homemade soup and old movie discs, rambling on and on about sneaking out and forcing the driver to come to your apartment estate, complaining about you keeping everything a secret from your friends. then they'd get unreasonably mad at you for not visiting a doctor, and they'd force you to stay in bed while promising to take care of everything. they would be loud, and destructive, and annoying and—ugh! everything you do not need when you have a fever burning on your head!

"oh, finally!" you groaned in tired delight when you heard the doorbell ring. you have been waiting on the jajangmyeon takeout you ordered about fifteen damn minutes ago (to be fair, it felt like two hours with that migraine in your head).

shaking the shiver off your back when you stood on the cold wooden tiles with your bare feet, you grimaced at the pair of fuzzy socks you previously pulled off out of spontaneity, not wanting to bend down to get them from the ground. you stepped on then as you moved begrudgingly from the messy couch, where your blanket and tons of pillows resided, to the front door.

you unlocked your door with some trouble, finding it hard to stand on your legs and twist the lock. when you slowly swung open the door, you muttered, "sorry for the delay, it's kind of hard to–huh."

you cut yourself off when you saw the sight of renjun handing cash to your delivery man and patting him on the back as he bowed and left your house with your jajangmyeon. your eyes pulled back to look at the bigger picture—four people present before your apartment door, all wearing the same reaction to your figure uncared for.

renjun has turned his attention back from your delivery man and his grimace deepened when he saw your red face. donghyuck pulled a face at you when he saw your terrible posture and dead expression, and he tightened his grip on the small bag in his hand. jeno was frowning in disapproval with one brow raised as if you were spreading the bacteria to him but he was too polite to cover himself up. jaemin looked like he didn't want to be here, like always, but for a moment you saw his eyes flicker with soft concern over your visibly sick posture.

you sneered. that bastard! the manager snitched on you and here came the power rangers of the 2000s judging you at your front door! you would not take this absurdity!

"goodbye," you muttered blandly before you went ahead to close the door on their faces, but a hand swiftly reached out and blocked the door frame from meeting its end.

jeno smiled casually at you from the side, his arm muscle flexing as he, with no effort against your sickened strength, pushed the door open. you attempted to struggle against him, but obviously you were of no match for him, riddled with a fever or not.

"lee jeno," you warned.

"[full name]," he returned.

you clicked your tongue. you were too dizzy to get angry, but the rumbling inside your chest sounded anyway so you wouldn't be so overwhelmed by the boys' relentless care that you forget you didn't like this nor want this, that this wasn't ideal for you.

"please leave," you asked. "i don't need help."

"no. we're coming in whether you like it or not, [name], so give it up," donghyuck mentioned as he gently brushed past you into the apartment. "and before you ask–no, we are not leaving. we got our phones, and we brought movies. we also have to take care of you, so we got plenty to do here. we won't get bored."

you rolled your eyes as the rest of the boys followed behind. kicking their shoes off and placing them neatly to the side, they slowly began acting as if they were back in their humble abode.

donghyuck headed over to the coffee table before your couch. he grimaced at the sight of falling blankets and unorganized pillows as he placed the bag on the surface, then he turned to renjun, "renjun, where do we put the soup?"

"not on the coffee table, take it to the kitchen!" renjun exclaimed as he pointed aimlessly at a spot.

donghyuck listened. as he made his way to your open kitchen, he began rambling off. "you know, i can't believe you didn't tell us you were sick. i knew something was up when you were absent for more than a day!"

renjun nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, looking to you with a semi-displeased expression. "he is right. we are all friends here, you should tell us if you need some help."

just having them around your apartment was enough to make you want to jump out the window. it was nothing personal against the boys, though. you would have felt the same with just about anybody who dared enter your territory when you felt uncomfortable. but the way they never stop talking—ugh, it made you want to end it altogether so you didn't have to listen to their voices overlap each other in such annoying frequency.

"if i needed help, i would have asked," you dragged out through gritted teeth.

donghyuck snickered from the sink, rolling his sleeves up and getting ready to do the unclean dishes. "oh yeah, that's why you have no clean bowl and spoon to use!"

"also, why are all your stuff here on the couch, [name]?" jeno complained as he picked up your heavy blankets in his arms. he popped his head out from the side and eyed you. "i'll take them back to your room, you should stay in bed!"

jaemin leisurely approached the coffee table, his face was bland with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. despite acting like he didn't want to be here, his curiosity to know whether you were doing well alone was killing him inside; you weren't, it appeared. he gazed around your apartment with feign disinterest before an opened box caught his eyes.

bending down to pick up the medicine, he furrowed his brows and turned to you. "these aren't doctor prescribed medicine."

ignoring the drowsiness in your eyes, you looked at the displeasure on jaemin's face before you sighed, "i didn't see a doctor."

"you what?" jaemin exclaimed in disbelief while the rest of the boys gasped in what sounded to be disapproval.

there it went. there came the wave of complaints and disagreement piling out of their mouths like rainwater flooding into the ditch. the migraine in your head magnified the more frustration built up inside you, trying to force you to explode on the boys who only meant well.

"yes, i didn't visit a doctor. stop making a big deal out of it," you retorted, straining your voice to make yourself heard. "do you know how expensive an appointment at the clinic is?"

"still! it's always better to visit a doctor!" renjun pointed out softly.

the others agreed with him like dominos, opinions falling on top of each other in the form of noises. you closed your eyes in hopes to cancel their presence, but they've been talking nonstop it felt impossible to ignore them.

their voices were adding to your nausea, too many words to understand and to process that you felt useless not being able to retain their words as quickly as usual. it made you want to vomit, it made your chest tighten, it made your tummy hurt.

"god... please... shut up," you muttered under your breath as you glared at the floor. "shut up... stop talking... stop talking!"

the heat burst.

"[name]..." jaemin began cautiously, dropping the empty box of pills on the table as he eyed you sturdily.

you grimaced; your lips quirking down in guilt and your eyes darting elsewhere but their faces. seeing their innocent, good-intentioned, widened eyes would just make you feel like a bad person more than anything. shaking your head, you waved your hand at them dismissively and proceeded to turn away.

"thank you for coming, but please leave because i don't need your help," you said, "i'm gonna go to bed. lock the door when you leave."

the boys watched you move back to your room slowly, still surprised at your sudden outburst. they half-expected something like this to happen, but not exactly the way it turned out. they did come here fully prepared to be kicked out kindly knowing well your inability to accept aid from others, but the event has taken a turn for even worse, it seemed. they had not expected you to yell at them.

donghyuck turned away from the sink, his confused gaze darting between the door to your bedroom and the rest of his friends. "we're not actually leaving, right?"

"no, but we will leave them alone," jeno mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "for now, at least."

jaemin's eyes trailed after your steps and they have yet to tear themselves away from your bedroom door.

he knew you well, better than the rest of his friends if he could say so. even though you might have meant what you said, you wouldn't do anything if they refuse to listen. and the consequences of adhering to your request and leaving you alone when you just did something you didn't want to would outweigh those of them not listening to you.

you don't need help, you never ask for them, whatever reason that was. but you do want them when they were presented to you. he knew that much, at least.

"jaemin, where are you going?" jeno asked when he saw his friend shuffling across the small living room.

nobody talked when jaemin moved to your room and knocked on your door. he pushed it open without waiting for your permission, and the stifled cries stayed beneath the walls unknown to the outsiders. he softened at the sight of you helplessly rubbing your tears with your forearm, wanting nothing more than to coddle you, but he leaned against the door instead.

"feeling bad now, are we?" jaemin said to catch your attention.

your head hurt, the pain was piercing. but nothing shattered you more than realizing you were a bad person for refusing help from good people who cared about you, realizing the mortifying cycle of loneliness you cannot thrust yourself out of because you could not accept any form of good social interaction. you were never one to cry from those whimsical things, you were used to it, but the thought of your friends shuffling out of your apartment and leaving the area dead cold made you cry.

you still have them now, but for how long, really? how many more "leave me alone" and "i don't want your help" would they take until they truly leave you alone for good?

you sobbed out breathlessly, your words continuously getting cut off against your will. eventually, you made out a sentence.

"jae-jaemin, my head hurts."

like a sharp shot through his heart, jaemin wavered and crumbled. he wasn't sure if this kind of melting was good, but he was taking the ache along with him. he approached you swiftly and sat down on the edge of your bed, a spoiled gaze dawning within his eyes while he moved his hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and messaging your scalp.

"try going to sleep, it'll help," he coaxed.

the more you cried, the more he sunk himself onto your bed. he kept his head high up against the headboard of your bed, and he let you snuggle close against his side for comfort. your head hastily leaned against his chest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to focus on the rhythm of which he scratched your head dotingly.

"shhh, it's okay," he hushed, reaching his free arm over you to pat your back. "it's going to be okay."

jaemin was always so kind. everyone was always so kind. with their homemade soup, their refusal to abandon you at a tough spot, their snark remarks against your constant attacks, their nagging and coaxing—they were your friends.

you never knew why it took so much effort to get it into your head that they were going to be here whether you wanted them to or not. when you pushed them away, they would push back ten times harder, however many times they needed to. they knew you hated blatant affection so they never show it, nor do they make you show it, but it was here. flowing between their heads was love, discreet love, love that sat in patience, understanding, and stubbornness.

you pack a mean punch, but they could take it.

"jaemin... how are they doing?"

jaemin looked up from your sleeping face to find donghyuck at the door. his hands were wet from messing around in the kitchen, and he wiped them clean on his pants as he quietly approached the bed to take a peek at you. he raised his brow when he saw your face smushed against jaemin's chest and hidden under your arm, then he signed.

sleeping, huh. good. he heard you cry from outside a while ago, everyone did. nobody said anything about it and the living rooms were hushed quieter until your sobs gradually calmed down.

"are you going to stay here?" donghyuck asked after he pulled away. "you might get sick."

"yeah," jaemin nodded down at you, "i might."

donghyuck pursed his lips together, then he shrugged. "alright, i'll leave you then. do you want me to turn the lights off?"

"no, i don't want to fall asleep," jaemin said, stroking your head gently. then he nudged his chin toward donghyuck. "i do want my phone though."

donghyuck scoffed when he was by the door. he was only gonna turn the lights off because it would help you, so if that wasn't needed...

"interesting," he said. "i'm not your errand boy, though. you can stay bored."

jaemin held back a hiss when donghyuck ran out to the living room. he grimaced after the opened door, eyes wide in annoyance that donghyuck left the lights on and the door open, that irresponsible bastard! and he wouldn't even run to get a phone, which would only take a couple of steps!

turning his attention, he glanced down at you instead and breathed out a sigh. he wasn't going to be on his phone for long anyway, he just wanted to tell jisung and chenle you were doing okay. other than that, he has the plan to stare at you until you wake up—your scrunchy nose and closed puffy eyes were abnormally adorable, he has to admit.

"yeah, i'll get him," jaemin whispered playfully down at you. "we'll get him when you wake up."

[ravennm84]

Serafina

Part 2     Part 3

Based on @unmaskedagain post “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” this is my take on the story and the kind of things Serafina would have done to get even. There’ll be three parts, and will hopefully be posted through the week. Blood, gore, and character death ahead. You have been warned.

She was seven years old when her Grandma Gina’s sister, Ramona, passed away. Marinette couldn’t remember ever meeting her. Her dad said that she was a very private person and didn’t get out much. Since she had never married or had any children, all of her relatives were asked to come over to the house and divide the property before the rest was sold and equally divided. 

While her parents had been in the kitchen, looking over some family cook books, Marinette had wandered around the old house until she came to a small room. It was full of spiderwebs and old toys, which greatly interested her. She spent a long time looking through the boxes and shelves until she found a locked chest in the closet. Remembering the key she had seen in a dresser drawer, she retrieved it to see if it worked. It was hard to turn, but she heard the click and was able to open the lid. Inside was a box with an envelope laying on top of it. Curious she opened the envelope and read the note as best as she could.

“If I’m dead, Serafina killed me.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Marinette set the letter aside and opened the box. Inside was an old looking porcelain doll. It was covered in spiderwebs, the dress was old and ripped, she was missing a shoe, and the hat looked like it was stained with red paint. 

“Are you Serafina?” She asked the doll before carefully lifting it out of the box. “I don’t think you’re bad, you just look lonely. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!” Giving the doll a gentle hug, the little girl got to her feet and left the room and letter behind. Finding her parents, she asked if it was okay to take the doll home so she could take care of her.

Tom remembered seeing that doll when he was a kid and had always thought it was creepy, but if his little girl saw the good in it, he would trust her. And since none of the other relatives wanted anything to do with the doll, it came home with them. 

Once home, the little girl raced up to her room with the doll and immediately got to work. She threw away the old dress, hat, and shoe before cleaning away all the dirt with a washcloth and carefully combing out the knotted hair. Then Marinette got to work on making Serafina a brand new outfit with new shoes and a hat. It took a few days, but she was really happy with what she came up with: a pink Victorian dress with rose and pearl accents, a wide brimmed hat with maroon feathers, and maroon slippers that tied with ribbons around the ankles.

Proud of what she had made, Marinette held the doll up high as she twirled around her room. She had been interested in fashion and clothes for months now, and making the pretty outfit for Serafina was a lot of fun. If anything, it proved to her that fashion design was what she wanted to do.

“I hope you like your new clothes, Serafina. You make the perfect little model, so I hope you don’t mind if I make more clothes for you later on. I promise to only make you clothes that will make you feel pretty.” Giving the doll a kiss, Marinette placed her next to her computer before skipping down stairs for dinner.

~oOo~

Serafina had not been expecting this when the young girl, Marinette, had opened her box. It had been decades since anyone had shown her any kindness. For so many years, she had been passed from person to person, shoved into boxes and hidden from sight or attempted to be sold off. Serafina had had no choice but to punish many of her past owners, and she had not been lax with their punishments. 

But she didn’t feel the need to do that with Marinette, this girl was different. She wasn’t afraid of her. She didn’t scorn her and hide her away where no one could see her. No, this girl was kind and made Serafina feel loved; something she hadn’t felt in nearly a hundred years. Staying with Marinette, she knew that she would be happy. So, no one needed to die here.

And she was.

The porcelain doll smiled quietly on Marinette’s desk as the years passed, and felt more for this girl than she could remember with anyone else. She felt beautiful whenever Marinette used her to experiment with a new outfit before she would make a full sized outfit for herself. She had fun when the girl would sing and dance around the room, sometimes even picking her up so she could dance with her. She felt entertained when she would play movies on her computer, one time watching a movie about a haunted doll like herself; they didn’t watch much before she turned it off, but Serafina thought it was funny. Scratching people and leaving notes wasn’t scary, she had done much scarier things than that.

As Marinette grew into a teen, Serafina felt proud as she grew from a shy girl into a fearless superhero. Her owner had a lot of love and light to give, so it made sense to her that she became Ladybug. She also felt scared for the girl, not wanting to lose her to Hawkmoth, but silently promised her that if she was ever hurt, the people who hurt her would pay her back in blood.

Serafina was also aware of the tiny god that gave Marinette her power, just as Tikki was aware of her. No doubt, the god could sense the darkness that dwelled in her porcelain body, but realized that she cared for the girl and would not harm her. So the little god wisely said nothing, she would hate it if Marinette suddenly feared her.

After all, the three of them were happy and at peace.

Until the day Marinette came storming into her room, complaining about a girl named Lila. From what she could hear, this girl was a liar and was using her friends. Knowing how much her human cared for other people, that didn’t sit well with how it would affect her. Then she didn’t hear anything about the girl for months. But when she was mentioned again, it quickly got worse from there. 

Serafina heard about the threats, the lies, almost being akumatized, her crush Adrien telling her to take the high road, all of it. She watched as one by one, her friends turned against her. Bullying her while accusing her of being a bully until only three of her classmates remained. She knew that the teacher and principal were useless and even accused Marinette of being a problem, especially after the expulsion. Serafina had nearly enacted her revenge that day, but held back when she was reinstated the next day.

Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka were the only people left that believed her or even bothered to try and help in her class. There was also Kagami and Luka, Juleka’s brother. Serafina would admit, that boy was sharper than most. When he first saw her, his blue eyes studied her intently for a long moment until Marinette spoke up.

“That’s Serafina, she’s been passed down through my family for a long time. She was in really bad condition when I got her and took a lot of work to get her fixed up, but it was worth it. She was my first ever model and I’ve never felt lonely since she’s been around.”

Luka looked back over at the doll and gave her a smile. “I can tell, I’d bet no one gave her the proper love or attention until she came to you. And I think, if she could talk, she would say that you kept her from feeling lonely too, and all she wants is for you to be happy.”

Serafina liked that boy, a lot more than she had liked Adrien when he had come to play video games. The boy genuinely seemed to care for Marinette. And even though he could somehow sense that she was more than just a doll, he didn’t spill her secret. Yes, she approved of this one.

And then, less than a week after she returned to school, came the worst day. They were taking pictures at the school and Marinette had worked so hard on a new dress; it was pale purple cotton with teacup sleeves, a tulip skirt and pink lace at the hem. It was so sweet and looked like she was going to a spring tea party. Then half way through the day, she came into her room crying. Her makeup was smeared, there were bruises and scratch marks on her arms, another bruise on her cheek, her hair was a mess and covered in dark blue paint. The same paint that covered almost half of the dress. Tikki was doing her best to comfort the girl as she showered. Marinette was unable to save her dress and ended up throwing it away before she cried herself to sleep on her bed. 

Serafina was angry, the kind of anger she hadn’t felt since Ramona had attempted to burn her in the fireplace… and that hadn’t gone well for her. Tikki flew over to face her. “I know what you’re thinking and I can’t condone you falling into old habits and killing her entire class. Despite how much they’ve hurt her, it would still break her heart if they all suddenly died.”

The doll actually considered that for a moment before picturing some very specific people. Lila, the liar that was trying to take away/destroy the person she cared about. Alya, the best friend that betrayed her, acted like a hypocrite, and took joy in hurting her. Adrien, the boy that not only broke his promise to help her as a civilian, but continually harassed her as a pseudo-hero. And finally, Hawkmoth, the person that was constantly putting her in danger. Everyone else that had harmed her would be punished, paying back the harm they had done to Marinette in blood, but those four would pay with their lives.

Tikki shook her head. “As angry as I am with Adrien, you can’t kill him. Marinette still has feelings for him and if he dies, she might never get over him. I can’t stop you from punishing them, but please try not to kill them. You know that she has a big heart and it would hurt her to lose any of them, so please keep that in mind.”

Serafina would have argued, but the little god was right. Killing around Marinette would only upset her. So she would do her best to punish them without killing them… although, accidents do happen. 

~oOo~

It was easy enough to sneak herself into Marinette’s bag the next day of school. It was even easier to select her first victims. One of her classmates, Kim, stole her backpack and dumped out all of her stuff, including her. The boy laughed about Marinette bringing a doll to school as he ran up the stairs to keep it away from her. It took little effort to make the boy trip, in full view of everyone that had been watching, and fall backwards down the steps. 

Serafina had landed at the top landing with a perfect view of the boy’s tumble, and it was oh so satisfying. She could see his knee bent in the wrong direction, a bone in his arm protruding from the skin, and blood dripping from the cuts and open wounds. But the sound was even better, all the cracking and popping of bone before he began crying like a little girl, begging for his mom.  Ah, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed those sounds.

When the principal came out to see what was happening, she hid her presence and let the principal trip over her and fall as well. He even landed on Kim, causing more injuries to both of them. She held back a laugh as the grown man wailed and cried until the paramedics arrived. Loading the two into the ambulance while one of the teachers called the Board of Governors. A representative, M. Rupere, quickly came to take over the principal’s duties while he was gone, and was surprised when a bunch of students tried to blame Marinette for the incident.

“And how is it her fault?” He asked the students that surrounded him. “Did you see her push or trip M. Le Chien or M. Damocles down the stairs?

“Marinette brought in a doll and Kim was distracted by it when he was going up the stairs, that’s how he tripped and fell,” Lila told him with tears in her eyes. “Then M. Damocles tripped over the doll and fell down the stairs too. It’s just like how she pushed me down the stairs last week and I hurt my knee. I think she’s actually trying to hurt people.”

The man looked at Lila for a moment before looking to the top of the stairs, but there was no doll there. Then he looked back at Lila with a stern glare. “Young lady, if you had been pushed down the stairs last week, you would have been severely injured just like your friend or M. Damocles. And whether or not it was Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s doll that caused the incident or not, does not mean that she is at fault for the accident. To the principal’s office, right now. I think we should have a discussion as to why you are trying to blame another student for something she did not do.”

Totally shocked, the girl looked around to her followers for some support, but they were now looking at her with uncertainty. They had just seen two people fall down the stairs and receive severe injuries, so how was Lila walking around just fine without a scratch on her? Huffing in annoyance, Lila stomped her way to the office while the class stared after her, most of them noticing the lack of limp to her walk.

Serafina was pleased with how this was turning out, she had already punished two of the people that had betrayed Marinette and had begun sewing seeds of doubt with the liar. At the moment, she was hiding in the classroom, observing everyone so she could figure out the best way to punish them. She noticed Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel sitting close to the girl and doing their best to comfort her. She also noticed Nino, a boy she had seen a couple of times over the years, casting looks back at Marinette. 

During the first break, the boy cautiously approached her, clutching his hat in his hands. “Hey dudette, listen… I, um, wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, having a hard time looking her in the eye. “After Kim fell, what that Governor dude said about Lila not being hurt, and the fact that I’ve known you forever. I felt so stupid. You would never push someone down the stairs or cheat or steal from someone like that. And I tried looking up Jagged’s discography to see if there was any mention of a song about Lila, and there was literally nothing. I tried telling Alya, but she didn’t want to listen and-”

Nino was interrupted by Marinette giving him a hug. Serafina smiled at that. The boy had thought for himself and admitted that he was wrong. He apologized and Marinette was willing to offer him forgiveness. She supposed that Nino could also be exempt from punishment, so long as he never betrayed the girl again.

Half way through the second lesson, Lila had returned to the class with two weeks worth of detention and had a meeting scheduled with herself, M. Rupere, and her mother at the end of the week. Serafina decided to let the girl’s empire fall before going in to completely destroy her.

During lunch, when all the students had left. Serafina got to work on punishing Mme. Bustier. She started by slamming the door shut, it made the woman jump and look around the room, but there was no one there. Then the giggling started, causing her to look around the room again. This time, she walked up the steps to see if anyone was hiding in the room, but she was completely alone. When she turned back to her desk, the papers she had been grading were torn to pieces. A bit panicked, Bustier tried to run out of the room, but the door was locked. As she struggled with the door, she heard the scraping of chalk and froze for a moment before looking at the board. Large words were scrawled in block letters: LIAR, ENABLER, MEAN, CRUEL, and the most frightening of all, YOU WILL PAY.

Bustier’s hands were shaking as she erased the words from the board, not understanding what was happening. Only taking a breath when the door opened and her students began to file in. Serafina quietly laughed at the teacher’s fear, she was another person that she would take her time in punishing. Payback for failing to help Marinette. For now, it was time to take out her biggest supporter. 

Again, it was much easier than it should have been to sneak herself in Alya’s backpack and go home with her. When the girl found her she sneered. “The klutz must have put you in my bag by mistake.” Then she smiled cruelly at her. “I think I’ll give you to Etta and Ella to play with before giving you back to Maribrat, maybe tell them that you need a makeover and give them some permanent markers too.”

Turning to take the doll out to her sisters, she stubbed her toe on her desk chair hard enough that she felt a crack and dropped back on her butt while hissing in pain. When she was finally able to think past the pain, she realized that she had dropped the doll and didn't see it on the floor. After wrapping her foot, she looked all over her room but couldn’t find it anywhere.

That night, things got… more than scary. Alya was absolutely terrified.

First, her computer turned on, on its own, and started printing off papers saying “YOU KNOW THE TRUTH”. She turned the computer off, only for it to turn back on after she’d climbed into bed and the browser pulled up past searches; specifically, the searches that proved that Lila had been lying. She had found that out after Lila had disappeared from school for months, but had kept to herself so she wouldn’t lose her credibility on her blog or have to admit to Marinette that she’d been right. Turning it off again, she’d decided to sleep on the couch when her phone suddenly let out a hiss and burst into flames.  

Letting out a shriek, Alya rushed to her door, and had just barely opened it when it slammed shut on her fingers, causing her to scream as she struggled to pull her hand free. She could hear her parents and Nora shouting on the other side of the door, trying to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Her head got fuzzy and she suddenly felt cold, she realized that she was going into shock. Her parents’ shouts became garbled background noise and Alya heard the sound of tiny feet running around the room. She tried reaching the light switch so she could see, but it was out of reach.

From the light outside her window, she could barely make out the movement of a small shadow, moving from one part of the room to another. Coming closer and closer to her with every sweep. Alya began tugging harder on the doorknob and her hand. She needed to get out. Something was in the room with her. She could almost feel the darkness creeping closer. It wanted to hurt her!

What happened next, Serafina couldn’t have planned better if she’d tried. Alya jerked back her trapped arm and the doorknob at the same time Nora threw her shoulder into the door as hard as she could. Sending the teenagers flying into her bedside table and her head hitting the corner with an audible *crack*. The doll smiled silently in the corner of the room as the paramedics were called and listened to her parents cries for their horrid daughter to wake up. They called time of death at 2:03am.

~oOo~

It was a bit more of a chore for Serafina to get back to the school, but it was still manageable as her mother had to inform the school of her daughter’s death and pick up her things. The woman had also noticed the information that had been brought up on Alya’s computer and thought that she had been up late chasing a lead. And as the lead had to do with the disturbing behavior of one of her daughter’s classmates, she thought it best to show the acting principal the information before taking her leave. 

Making her way back to the classroom, she saw that the news had spread already. Nino seemed to be hit the hardest, as it was his girlfriend, but he would get over it. Kim was still out of class, and likely would be for a few more days. Tikki saw the doll when she was peeking out of the purse and gave her a disapproving glare, but there was nothing she could do. And in Serafina’s defense, she had only intended on maiming the failed journalist, her death had been an “accident”.

When class let out for lunch, Serafina got back to work tormenting Mme. Bustier. Today, the door slammed and locked shut a few minutes after the last student left. The woman shrieked and was struggling to open the door when the giggling started again. Bustier started screaming for it to “go away” but the giggling continued. Turning back to the door, books began flying at her from all over the room, hitting her chest, back, arms since they were shielding her head.

Then the door opened to show a panicked looking M. Rupere. “I heard screaming, are you alright?” The red haired teacher looked extremely frazzled; her hair was a mess, eyes wide and dilated, and her hands were shaking.

“The books,” she said in a trembling voice. “There was giggling, the door wouldn’t open, and the books attacked me. And this was the second time!”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he stared at the woman. “Did you see who was throwing the books at you?”

Bustier shook her head in a frantic manner. “There was no one, the books just started flying at me after the giggling.”

Giving her a slow nod, Rupere gently motioned her to step out of the room ahead of him. “How about you take the rest of the day to recover? Some rest will do you some good.” 

To his relief, Mme. Bustier agreed and collected her purse before leaving the school. Looking around the room, he was confused to see all the books in place on the shelves. Curious, he went to examine her desk and saw essay papers… covered in red ink with large “F’s” on every one of them. Reading the paper on top, all he saw were a few grammar mistakes, nothing that should have resulted in a failing grade. A bit unsettled, Rupere called the Board to schedule a psychological exam for the teacher. Serafina watched the man with satisfaction, at the rate she was going with that terrible teacher, she wouldn’t be around much longer.

Her next victims were Max and Alix during science class. She switched a couple of labels on the tubs on their desk before hiding in the room to enjoy the show. Half-way through class, Max poured a large amount of reactive chemical into the mix while it was warming over a burner, and the glass exploded. The two screamed and cursed in pain as Max tried wiping the liquid away from his face, only succeeding in getting more in his eyes. Alix tried wiping it away with a cloth, not noticing in time that the fabric was also soaked in the chemicals that now covered her entire face.

Serafina was impressed with how quickly Mme. Mendeleiev reacted to the incident. Doaning on gloves in an instant and leading the two students to the chemical wash station. Both students looked to have chemical burns on their faces, arms and necks. She could already see the burns covering a large amount of their exposed skin. While the class was distracted, Serafina switched the labels back so it would appear that the two had not been doing as instructed.

When school let out, the doll hid away in Mylene’s bag and ended up going on a date with the girl and Ivan. They commented on the bad luck their class seemed to be having and wondered out loud at what the cause might have been.

Mylene was hesitant to speak as the two ate their ice cream. “Do you think… maybe it’s karma coming back on our class?”

“Why do you think that?” Ivan asked her, seeming genuinely curious. Deciding that their conversation might lead to something more, Serafina waited and listened.

“It’s just… ever since Kim fell down the stairs, it’s got me thinking. Lila says that Marinette pushed her but the only injury she says she got was a bad knee, and she’s been walking around fine since then. And then she tried blaming Marinette for Kim and M. Damocles, when Kim shouldn’t have been running up the stairs and M. Damocles tripped at the top of the stairs when she was still down in the courtyard.”

“You’re right, now that I think about it. Lila lied to that new principal and she did it really easy.” Ivan nodded slowly, his brow creased as he pulled out his phone. “I wonder if she lied about anything else.” Mylene watched over his shoulder as he looked up the story about saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from an airplane. There was nothing, the only article that came up about a pet was his crocodile, Fang. The story said that he had hatched the reptile himself seventeen years earlier and any other pet wouldn’t be as rock’n’roll as Fang. “I don’t think Jagged ever had a cat, this article says that he’s only had Fang for longer than we’ve been around.”

Mylene pulled out her phone and called Rose, putting the call on speaker when she answered. 

“Hi Mylene, did you hear anything about Max and Alix? Are they going to be okay?” The girl asked as soon as she picked up.

“Ivan and I haven’t heard anything about them yet, but we have a question for you, Rose, and it’s something only you would be able to answer.”

There was a slight pause on the line. “Go ahead.”

“Do you still chat with Prince Ali?”

“Sure I do! We video chat every Saturday and I send him videos of our performances with Kitty Section. Why do you ask?”

“Ivan and I were wondering… Has he ever mentioned Lila to you?”

There was another pause, although they could hear a hushed conversation in the background. “So, you guys figured out the truth about Lila?” When they didn’t respond right away, Rose continued. “I found out a few weeks after Lila says she came back from Achu. I mentioned Lila to Ali and asked him about the charities they had been working on together, but he’d never heard of her. And Ali is only working on charities involving children, nothing with the environment. When Juleka and I tried asking Lila about it, she got really mean and threatened us if we told anyone. I would have been akumatized if Marinette hadn’t been there to calm me down.”

Ivan and Mylene were horrified, not only had Lila been lying to them, but she had threatened Rose, Juleka, and probably Marinette too. “What should we do?”

“First, you should apologize to Marinette for how you’ve been treating her and let her know that you know the truth.” They heard Juleka over the phone. “Lila has been more terrible to her than anyone else and she keeps getting in Lila’s way to protect us and Nathaniel since we know the truth about her.”

“Who all knows?” Ivan asked, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Sure, he and Mylene hadn’t really hurt her or done anything, but they hadn’t stood up for her either and they were supposed to be her friend.

“Us, Luka, Kagami, Nathaniel figured it out when she said she could introduce him to Stan Lee, Nino figured it out yesterday, and Adrien’s apparently known from the start but didn’t say anything because he doesn’t think her lies are hurting anybody.”

Both of them could hear the acid in Juleka’s voice when she mentioned Adrien, and they couldn’t argue with her. They knew he had led a sheltered life, but how could he claim that ‘lies don’t hurt anybody’ after sitting back and watching Lila and her friends torment and bully Marinette?

Mylene hadn’t even realized that she had asked that question out loud until Rose answered them. “He told us that it was Marinette’s own fault for antagonizing Lila, and ‘If she just took the high road like I told her, then Lila would leave her alone’. It took everything I had not to slap him.”

Coming from Rose, that really was saying something.

Serafina was then taken on a shopping trip to an arts supplies store, a card shop, and a stop at an ATM before going to Marinette’s family’s bakery. She smiled quietly and with great respect to the couple as they apologized to her girl, gave her cards, an entire bolt of soft purple cotton the same color that her ruined dress had been, a new sketchbook, and money to pay her back for some of the things that Marinette had given them over the past year. They even asked her to provide them with proper receipts, and admitted that they knew the amount they had given her wasn’t enough to cover everything. But they promised to pay her back before asking for anything else, as well as pay in advance for any future items or baked goods. 

The little doll would have cried right along with Marinette if she could. These two had proven themselves to her and would avoid punishment, just as Nino had.

Taglist (it’s a long one):

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[spooky-nerd]

I Wrote an MSR Christmas Fic in September, Sorry

Christmas comes but once a year, or so he’s been told. Which means that he has 364 days (at least) to strategize. And yet, he never quite manages to be able to escape it.

He’s come close a small handful of times. A mere brush with victory followed by crushing defeat. In 1971 he was hospitalized with appendicitis on December 24. Unfortunately, the hospital gave out little teddy bears with santa hats that year to all of the children. In 1994, he tried lying low in his apartment, but Mrs. Sanders from across the hall had dropped off a fruitcake wrapped in red and green paper with a ridiculously frilled bow. The fruitcake had tasted horrible, but then that had been comforting, because he has never had a fruitcake that didn’t taste horrible and would find the very idea to be unsettling to say the least.

Twice he has nearly managed to avoid Christmas altogether. An almost impossible feat, and a coveted one amongst those who bemoan the holiday like he does.

He is not a grinch, as some would suspect, and his heart is not withered and cold. He does not have a propensity for stealing presents from under trees, and he has never once uttered the words “bah, humbug!”. He just does not care for Christmas.

This had come as a shock to Scully during their first year of partnership. She had whisked into the office on December 23rd in a cloud of merriment, smelling like peppermint and humming festively. “So, what are your Christmas plans?” she had asked innocently.

“Well, I’ll probably microwave some popcorn and watch Plan 9 From Outer Space,” he had said in complete seriousness. In spite of his delivery, she had laughed. Probably at the absurdity of it, which likely was obvious to outside observers, he had realized then. And yet, his world-weary soul had lacked the energy to care.

“You’re serious?” She had dropped the smile, and in its place was that frown of disappointment that he was rapidly becoming acquainted with. For some reason, he had felt a bit sheepish.

“Yeah, I’ve just never been one for the holidays.”

“But Mulder, it’s Christmas,” she had said, her incredulity ratcheting up impossibly higher.

“Oh I know, Scully. Trust me, I know. 104.9 started playing Christmas music in October. My building super put up tinsel in all the hallways on November 1st. I’ve been visually assaulted by this holiday on every street corner since the day after Black Friday. I know it’s Christmas. I just don’t really care.” He had shrugged, in case the rant came off a little too harsh. Not that Scully was easily intimidated. He was quickly beginning to learn that too.

She had shrugged, already poised to drop the subject. “Alright. Enjoy your popcorn, then.”

He had smiled. “Thanks, Scully.”

She had paused, turned back to him. He had gotten a whiff of peppermint again, and wondered if it was a new holiday perfume, or just the everyday magic of her. “You know, November 1st is a little early for tinsel.”

Looking back, it is possible that he had begun to fall in love with her then.

* * *

In the four years that Scully has been his partner, he has discovered that she has exactly one flaw: she loves Christmas. The music, the food, the gifts, the decorations, she eats them all up with a little festively-adorned spoon. At his request, she had refrained from stringing lights up in the office, but in exchange, he is forced to accept one Christmas gift from her each year.

Of course, he isn’t a monster, so every year, he buys her a present, too. Usually something quite ridiculous and useless. Their second Christmas together, he had bought her a mug depicting the entire cast of General Hospital. “It made me think of you,” he had said, to which she had raised an eyebrow and smiled, sliding her own present across the desk to him with false demureness. He had given her a suspicious look and ripped into the gift with exaggerated zeal, just to make her laugh. With delight he had pulled out a tie with little green aliens and flying saucers.

“Scully,” he had said, completely smitten. She had smiled and shrugged. He had decided that is was possible he didn’t hate gift exchanges as much as he had previously thought.

* * *

On December 23rd, 1997, he walks into the office and she is not there. It is not a surprise to him, but it is a blow nonetheless. She should be here, bringing him hot chocolate in addition to his morning coffee, placing a gift on his desk wrapped in ribbon so clinquant and overwhelmingly jubilant that it makes his eyes hurt. She should be here, making him dislike the holiday less and less with each passing moment. And if she can’t be here, he should be there with her. He calls Skinner and tells him he is taking a personal day. He does not explain further but he does not need to.

“Okay. Tell her I said Merry Christmas,” Skinner says.

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

* * *

Within an hour, he is at her doorstep with a hazardously overstuffed plastic grocery bag, a six-foot spruce that is growing heavier by the minute, and a gift wrapped in paper that had been sparkly at one time but has now transferred all of its glitter onto his coat.

It takes her a worryingly long time to answer the door. But she does eventually, looking completely drained, a sweater wrapped around her thin frame. She is cold all the time now and she never complains but it has not escaped his notice. She looks exhausted, but it stops his breath how beautiful she is all the same.

She is surprised to see him. Even more shocked by the one-man window display he has become.

“Mulder? What are you doing?” Confusion, but also a smile in her voice that he can see glittering in her eyes, too.

“I thought I’d bring the party to you, Scully.” He is still a little out of breath, but he smiles, and finally she laughs, melodic and joyful. She lets him in.

* * *

With the muted tones of Bing Crosby playing smooth and unobtrusive underneath, he makes them hot chocolate, dons a Santa hat, and gets to work decorating her tree. She sits on the end of her couch nearest him and opens up the little boxes of colorful Christmas ornaments, handing them to him one-by-one with delicate care. He gets tangled more than once in the Christmas lights, each time extricating himself in a flurry of limbs and curses. It’s worth it to hear her laugh. He wants to close his eyes and listen to the sound and pretend everything is okay.

When he is finished, she holds out her hands wordlessly and he helps her stand up. He wraps an arm around her and they lean against one another, admiring the finished tree. He wonders if she knows it means so much more to him than just a nice gesture. Her grip tightens around him in a brief hug.

“Mulder,” she says softly. “I don’t even know what to say. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

They are quiet for a moment. Bing Crosby sings that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. He finds that he agrees.

“I wanted to, Scully. I wanted to be here. The office doesn’t feel right without you,” he says. “Besides, you would’ve done the same.”

She huffs a small laugh. “You hate Christmas.”

“No I don’t.” She looks up at him and he meets her gaze. “I don’t.”

* * *

Exactly one year later, she is safe and whole and mulling over a file, tapping an absent beat on their desk with her pencil. He bounds into the office, over-laden with a diverse assortment of ridiculous Christmas paraphernalia. He dumps it all on the floor in an unceremonious heap, shakes the snow out of his hair, and tosses her a goofy smile.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, out of breath. “Wanna help me deck the halls?”

When they are finished, the office has never looked more unprofessional. They couldn’t be prouder of themselves. Before she leaves for the night, she gives him his gift and a kiss on the cheek. Also very unprofessional, as is the alarming rate at which his heart is beating. It’s just about the only thing he can think about over the holidays, and that in itself brings clarity.

* * *

Her hand is icy where it settles atop his on the steering wheel. He risks only a brief glance in her direction. ‘It’s really coming down out there,’ he had said obligatorily about thirty minutes earlier, squinting into the critical sliver of light their headlights were slashing through the dark flurries of snow.

“Let’s stop for the night,” she says. He nods and gets off at the next exit without question.

They find a motel down a nearly deserted back road that makes them both touch the concealed weapons at their hips just for comfort. The attendant wordlessly accepts their cash and slides them a key.

“You know what’s messed up?” he says as he flops onto the bed after a cursory inspection for suspicious stains.

“What?” she says, rooting through her bag for their toothbrushes. 

“I don’t even know where we are.”

She sighs, a weary sound that he has gotten used to hearing in the months they’ve been on the road. Almost four months now.

“We are somewhere in the southern part of Kentucky. That’s all I know.”

“Scully,” he begins, the word absolutely riddled with guilt.

“Mulder, stop. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” They’ve had this small scrap of conversation several times. He keeps waiting for her response to change but it never does.

Silence except for her continued rummaging. Then, a triumphant “Aha!”

He peeks out from under the arm slung across his face. “What-“ He stops at the sight of her wearing a santa hat and holding a lumpy package wrapped in newspaper and held together with duct tape. She smiles and inclines her head triumphantly. The hat tilts adorably and the little pompom falls in front of her face. He laughs in spite of everything. In the spirit of the season, she joins him.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

He shakes his head, in awe once again. “I love you.”

* * *

In an unremarkable house, in an unremarkable room, in an unremarkable chair sits a man. He is unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He is holding in his hand a two-inch long replica of a Louisville Slugger that has been made into a keychain. A gas station trinket, unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He turns it over in his hands and cannot help the smile that spreads across his face. It takes him back to a motel on a snowy night in southeastern Kentucky, and he has a mind to stay there awhile.

She walks in at that moment, wearing the most hideous sweater he has ever seen. After a moment of stunned silence he lets out a loud gut laugh. She smiles, spreading her hands in a silent ‘ta-da’. The sweater is red and green, and knit into it are alternating rows of Christmas trees, presents, wreaths, some colorful blobs that inexplicably might be potted ferns, and a pair of kissing reindeer, both of which have antlers.

“You look horrible,” he says, still chuckling. “I love it.”

“I found it at a Goodwill.”

“An ironic name for a store that would sell such an act of violence.”

She laughs. “I’m thinking of adding it to my regular rotation. I could get you one, too, and then we could match.”

“Well, people in town already think we’re crazy. Maybe it’s time to start leaning into it.”

She heads to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate, and he puts his hand in his pocket for the thousandth time that day, touching the small box like he’s afraid it will disappear. While she putters around the kitchen, he stares at the winking lights of their Christmas tree and gathers his thoughts.

Within minutes she is back with two steaming mugs filled much too full, sloshing dangerously. She sips a little out of both of them, burns her tongue, and hands him his. The mugs are hot. She pulls her sleeves up until only the tips of her fingers are peeking out and holds the mug that way. He watches the entire scene, completely enamored.

She throws herself onto the couch with a sigh and it is a Christmas miracle that she does not spill any of the hot chocolate on that horrendously festive sweater. He settles down next to her and sips gingerly from his mug, contemplating the mystery of those reindeer.

“Is it a misunderstanding of deer anatomy or a political statement, do you think?” she says, clearly reading his mind. He makes a mental note to open up an unofficial investigation into how she keeps being able to do that.

“All I know is it’s my favorite thing you’ve ever worn.”

“Aww. Thanks.”

“I am curious about those potted ferns, though.”

“Is that what they are?”

They wait there together, sipping and talking about everything and nothing until the hour whittles down to nil and the clock strikes midnight, Christmas Day. He puts an arm around her shoulders and marvels at the way her head fits so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss onto the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.” He whispers it like a treasured secret.

She turns to kiss him. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers back. Then she is up, grabbing his presents. She is eager for him to see one of them, and has been carrying the secret of what it is around with her for weeks. She hands it to him first, and he makes a show of opening it agonizingly slowly. She rolls her eyes and shoves him gently until he picks up the pace.

“Oh wow, Scully,” he says softly when he pulls the tissue paper aside to reveal a vintage restored Polaroid camera. “Thank you. This…wow.” He runs a hand over the glossy surface appreciatively, and then points it at her. “Say cheese.”

Within moments, the photo of her completely unprepared and squinting painfully at the sudden flash develops.

“Ugh,” she giggles.

“I’m keeping it.” He slips it into his pocket before she can snatch it away. His knuckles bump the small box, and he swallows the sudden lump in his throat. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

He retrieves the gift from under the tree and watches her open it. “Oh, Mulder,” she says, pulling the typewriter out of its box. He’d had to place an anonymous ad in the paper for that one. They had decided at the beginning of their life on the run that they would use only the most basic technology, which meant burner phones and nondigital alternatives. “It’s beautiful.”

It is. It’s an Underwood, glossy white, impeccably maintained. He’d paid a small fortune to a very old man for this one. They had met in a public park. He had paid in cash. The man had brought it in an old shoebox inside a brown paper grocery sack. The whole transaction had felt vaguely illegal. The man had looked at least 100.

“Thank you.” She gives him a hug. She smells like hot chocolate and peppermint. It reminds him of a Christmas many years ago. A conversation about why he didn’t like Christmas. Oh how things have changed.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” he says when she pulls away. She raises an eyebrow. She hates to be outdone, especially on Christmas. Incredulity turns into disbelief when he pulls out the small box.

“Mulder,” she whispers. Her eyes fill with unshed tears when he gets on his knee in front of her, and if he’s going to make it through this, he cannot look at her.

“Scully, I-“ his voice catches immediately. He clears his throat. “I know that the past few years have been…well there’s no words for it. You are the only thing that has gotten me through. You’ve been there Scully, since the beginning you’ve been there and I- I can’t imagine my life without you. I want so much more for you. You deserve so much more, and I…I wish that I could give you more. But this is all I have to offer, Scully. This is everything I have. I want to grow old with you and, and love you and support you and laugh with you until the end of time. I promise to be faithful. I promise to have your back and to be there for you always.” He takes a shaky breath. “Dana Katherine Scully, will you marry me?”

He looks into her eyes, and he sees everything there. The love and devotion that had started small and fragile and had grown into something ineffably strong. He cannot imagine a life without this woman. Bing Crosby’s voice floats quietly over from the record player, singing about having a merry little Christmas. He wants a life with her, a thousand more little Christmases just like this one, filled to the brim with ridiculous, garish holiday cheer. She takes a deep breath, the words that will determine their future poised on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes. Of course I will.”

- - - - - - - -

Note: Btw, I wasn’t lying about that sweater

[dragonkeeper19600]

Jaws: The Musical (Concept)

So, out of curiosity, I looked online to see if anyone had ever adapted a musical from Jaws. There is a musical called Bruce that’s scheduled to debut in Seattle next year about the production of Jaws (and I would be interested in seeing that), but as for a musical of the Jaws story itself, I found one that’s for kids and about 48 minutes long.

Now, I’ve never seen this musical, so I cannot attest as to its quality, but, in my opinion, both of those choices are wrong. This musical should be the full two acts, and it should be aimed at adults. 

I’ve been brainstorming, and I think I’ve got a hypothetical musical all mapped out. You might think a musical based on Jaws is silly, but a lot of successful musicals have been adapted from really strange things (such as a comic book artist’s coming-out memoir, a crappy Roger Corman movie, and a collection of goofy cat poems), and I feel like a Jaws musical could be really epic. The story easily lends itself into a two-act structure. The first act is the shark attacks on Amity Island, and the second act is the hunt for the shark in the Orca. 

However, the musical wouldn’t make the mistake of putting lyrics to John Williams’s iconic Jaws theme. The theme would obviously be used as a leitmotif throughout the show, but it’s not the type of song that lends itself to lyrics, and I think that would be corny,

So, the musical would play out like this:

ACT ONE:

The movie opened with Chrissie’s death, so the stage show will do the same. The scene will be short and all dialogue, no singing. The shark will also not be seen, but its presence will be implied by the music, lighting, and Chrissy’s acting.

First song: “Welcome to Amity Island.” Functions as an intro to the setting of Act One. The tone is joyous and celebratory as the islanders welcome the flood of tourists that always come in the summer. A big portion of the song is sung by Mayor Vaughn as he sings about what a wonderful vacation spot Amity Island is. We also meet Brody, and a dark undercurrent is introduced to the song as he finds Chrissy’s mangled body.

Brody, of course, takes steps to close the beach right away, but he’s stopped by the Mayor, who sings the second song, “Summer Dollars,” where the Mayor insists that closing the beaches is bad for the town and that Brody shouldn’t be causing an unnecessary panic and causing hysteria that could drive tourists away. Brody tries to argue back but in the end, Vaughn has his way.

Brody returns to the station, apprehensive about keeping the beaches open. Here, we’re introduced to Brody’s wife, Ellen, who saw no problem with visiting him at work since nothing ever happens on Amity Island. Brody expresses his uneasiness, but Ellen assures him that his fear of the water is making him overestimate the danger. This gets Brody’s coworkers curious, so, with a little prompting from Ellen, Brody sings his first solo, “Drowning,” about his fear of the water. In the song, Brody sings about a childhood incident where a bully held him underwater at a public swimming pool. Not only did this give him a fear of water, but the bullying he received as a child is what set him on the path to become a cop, since he wanted to be able to protect people from suffering the same mistreatment he did. However, he moved from New York City because the working environment there was unfriendly to cops who wish to protect and serve instead of, well, being typical American cops.

Next song: “Blue Sky” Just as the Mayor wished, the beaches are open, and summer is in full swing. Brody is there with his family, anxiously keeping an eye on the water. The rest of the ensemble doesn’t share his anxiety, however, as they frolic and play in the sun. Brody is jolted to his feet several times by the sound of screaming, but it’s always a false alarm. However, the mood turns scary as we segue into the next song:

“Shark!” - While out swimming on his raft, young Alex Kintner is attacked and eaten. Brody sees it and screams the title of the song. It’s pandemonium as people rush out of the water, and the song is fast-paced and chaotic. However, it ends on a mournfully quiet note as Mrs. Kintner calls for her son. (”Alex? Alex!?”)

Quick scene transition, and we move immediately into he next song, called “Something Must Be Done.” Here, at a town council meeting, the townspeople argue back and forth about what to do about their shark problem. I imagine the music here sounding like the “Mayor’s Meeting” theme from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. Brody argues strongly in favor of closing the beaches (in song, of course), but he is shut down not only by the Mayor but by the rest of the townspeople, who still rely on the income brought in by the tourists. People throw around various suggestions, with one woman finally declaring that she’ll reward whoever catches the shark with three thousand dollars. The song descends into a cacophony as people argue over each other.

The noise is interrupted by the screech of nails on a chalkboard. It’s Quint who sings the titular song, “Jaws,” as he sings about his job as a shark hunter and how dangerous sharks can be. (”Those jaws will swallow you whole. / A little shakin’, tenderizing’, down you go.”) He offers to kill the shark for ten grand, not three. The woman who made the offer balks at the high price, and the Mayor explains that kind of money isn’t in the budget “right now.” Quint takes it in stride and tells everyone they’ll know where to find him if they change their minds. He’s supposedly addressing the room, but he looks right at Brody as he says it. He can tell Brody is the only one who will actually listen.

Many sailors of various aptitudes come to Amity Island, hoping to catch the shark and cash in on that three thousand dollars. Among the new arrivals is Hooper, who introduces himself to Brody as a marine biologist from the Oceanographic Institute. Hooper sings his intro song, “Beautiful,” referring to his views on sharks. Hooper recounts how he was bitten by a shark as a child, but instead of coming to fear them, Hooper walked away fascinated by them and now views sharks to be beautiful creatures. However, the song takes a somber note as Hooper is brought in to examine Chrissie’s remains, and the word “Beautiful” is shifted from referring to sharks to referring to Chrissie when she was alive. (“She was just a kid. / So much of life to live. / Now, bits and scraps are all that’s left. / Of a girl who was once so beautiful.”)

“Hell of a Fish” - The fishermen succeed in catching a large tiger shark, presumed to be the shark that killed Alex and Chrissie. Brody joins in the celebratory atmosphere, but Hooper examines the dead shark’s teeth and is convinced they’ve got the wrong fish. The Mayor and the fisherman who caught the tiger shark argue that this is the shark that’s been causing the trouble, while Hooper argues back that it’s definitely not. Hooper angrily demands that he be allowed to dissect the shark to confirm whether there are human remains inside, but Mayor Vaughn rejects his request. He doesn't care if they’ve got the right shark. He doesn’t believe a third attack will happen either way. (”We’ve got a hell of a fish to show. / And shark attacks are pretty rare, you know?”) 

This song is interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Kintner, in funeral attire, who goes up to Brody and slaps him. She then sings “My Boy Is Dead,” a slow, tragic lament about her son, Alex. (“He was just a boy. His whole life still ahead. / Now, I’ll never know what he would’ve been. / Because my boy is dead.”) Mrs. Kintner blames Brody for not warning the town after Chrissie’s death, and Brody takes the blame to heart. The song ends with a callback to “Hell of a Fish,” as Hooper bitterly remarks that he hopes Mayor Vaughn is right about the tiger shark being the culprit, otherwise there’s a “hell of a fish” still out there somewhere.

“Cloud on the Horizon” - Song is kicked off by a TV reporter, who delivers a brief story to the audience about the recent shark attacks on Amity Island. The holiday-making resumes on Amity’s beaches, but people are more nervous than before, The ensemble sings amongst themselves about whether they should go in the water. They finally do so with a little encouragement from the Mayor. Meanwhile, Brody encourages his son Michael to stay in the shallow pond.

“Shark! (Reprise)” - A shark fin is spotted in the water, and the ensemble takes up the alarm, scrambling while frantically singing a reprise of “Shark!” However, the alarm dies down when the fin is revealed to be a fake worn by a swimmer. However, a lone woman takes up the cry again as the shark is spotted swimming toward the pond where Michael is. The music ramps up as the shark takes down a boater mere feet away from Michael, and the audience gets their first clear view of the shark.

“Red Sea” - The song functions as a reprise of “Blue Sky,” but also contains musical elements from “My Boy is Dead.” Brody pulls his son Michael out of the water, unsure of whether he’s still alive. Luckily, Michael is only in shock. Ellen runs to call for an ambulance. As he waits by Michael’s body, Brody sings his second solo, loudly berating everyone in town, including himself, for allowing this to happen three times. All of the beachgoers, including the Mayor, are cowed by his song.

“(Can’t Find) a Good Man” - This is the first song between all three crew members of the Orca. Brody goes to hire Quint to kill the shark, agreeing to pay whatever he wants. Quint knows he has Brody by the balls and keeps upping the price, demanding additional payments like various kinds of booze and a color TV in addition to the ten thousand dollars. Brody agrees to all of it, but Quint’s one crew member refuses to go out after the shark, so Quint fires him. Hooper and Brody volunteer to go along, but Quint is reluctant to bring them aboard. He contemplates whether he should go alone, since Hooper and Brody will be useless on deck. Hooper loudly argues that he's qualified and “doesn’t need this working class hero crap,” but Brody is more gentle and persuasive. He reminds Quint that his own son was nearly killed by this shark and feels he owes it to both his family and the town to help in whatever way he can. Quint is won over by Brody’s humility and agrees to take them both on.

“Farewell, Amity Island” - Reprise of “Welcome to Amity Island” and the Act One Finale. Like “Welcome to Amity Island,” this is a huge ensemble number, this time centering around the Orca’s upcoming departure. Several characters come to see the ship off as Quint yells at Hooper and Brody, including the Mayor and Ellen. The Mayor apologizes to Brody (“I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. / My own children were there in that same red sea.”), where Ellen bids a tearful farewell, knowing she might never see Brody again. Brody’s sung farewells are intercut with a spoken back and forth between Quint and Hooper, as Quint snarks at everything Hooper does. The song also contains instrumental traces of “Spanish Ladies.” Brody and Ellen’s embrace is broken up by Quint as the Orca shoves off.

ACT TWO:

After the act two opener (which is an instrumental of “Jaws,” the song Quint sang earlier), we return to the Orca where Quint fishes off the stern, loudly singing “Spanish Ladies” a cappella. It sounds pretty good, but he’s interrupted by Hooper, who yells that he’s been listening to Quint sing for three hours and can’t take it any more. Brody has no choice but to listen to the ensuing back and forth as he chums the water. 

The childish behavior is interrupted when Quint gets a bite. He's convinced it’s the shark, but Hooper, still annoyed with Quint, believes it’s some kind of sport fish. Hooper begrudgingly goes to help Quint pull in the line, but a moment of inattention causes the line to snap.

“City Hands” - Quint berates Hooper for losing the shark and trying to tell a professional shark hunter how to hunt sharks. Their animosity finally erupts into an angry duet as they hurl very personal insults at each other, with Hooper calling Quint a drunken, senile sea dog, while Quint berates Hooper for being a coddled, privileged city boy. Their musical fight looks like it’ll get physical when Hooper snatches the beer Quint was drinking out of his hand and chucks it into the ocean. Luckily, Brody breaks it up, pointedly reminding them why they’re here and that they don’t need to be at each other’s throats when the shark will gladly do that for them. Quint sheepishly apologizes to Brody and only Brody. Hooper likewise backs down.

Brody returns to chumming the water only to toss a shovelful of chum directly into the shark’s face. The shark is right beside the Orca, and it’s huge. There is an instrumental score but no singing as all three men work together to try and bring in the shark. The shark seems unfazed by all the bullets and harpoons they shoot into it, but they manage to attach one barrel to the shark. Quint is satisfied that the shark will tire itself out with the barrel attached and that all they have to do is wait it out. Brody is all for returning to shore and calling the Coast Guard, but Quint ignores him.

Scene transition, and we’re in the ship’s cabin that night. All three men are staying up to wait for the shark, and they’ve had a bit to drink. Quint catches Brody examining the rope burn he got on his hand earlier in the day and reassures him that it won't leave a permanent scar. This segues into the duet “Something Permanent,” as Hooper and Quint compare scars. The tone isn’t angry and harsh as before but jovial and upbeat. Clearly, the earlier animosity is forgiven. 

“Those Eyes” - This is Quint’s solo about the sinking of the Indianapolis. Brody asks Quint about a scar on his arm that he hasn’t mentioned. Quint offhandedly mentions it’s a tattoo he had removed. When Hooper makes a joke about it being a “Mother” tattoo, Quint informs him it’s actually for the U.S.S. Indianapolis. Hooper clearly knows the story, but Brody doesn't, so Quint tells it. The song is slow and eerie. The words “those eyes” are used to refer to both the sharks’ eyes and the eyes of his crew mates as they were devoured or lay dead in the water. Quint sings that he still sees those eyes looming up at him in the dark of the night. He then catches the looks on Brody and Hooper’s faces and chuckles darkly, telling them not to look at him with “those eyes.” After all, they delivered the bomb. No one comments on this, but all three men have now sung their backstories at some point in the show.

Hooper quietly starts to sing “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” The other two join in. Their singing is interrupted by the shark ramming into the ship.

The crew scramble back on deck. Quint, his mind still swimming in the memory of the Indianapolis, wildly fires a rifle at the shark, but he only succeeds in driving it away, Hooper goes belowdeck  to assess the damage. The ship can still run, but it’s struggling. Brody loudly advocates returning to shore, but Quint refuses.

The shark returns, leading to the next song, “Barrels.” The song has a lot of dialogue and instrumental but also functions as a reprise of “Something Permanent,” as Quint gleefully proclaims his intent to leave “something permanent” on the shark. The crew manages to attach three barrels to the shark, but they lose track of it again. 

Quint decides that since barrels and weapons don’t seem to be working, and the ship is only becoming more damaged, that the thing to do is lure the shark back to shore and drown it in the shallow water. Hooper warns Quint that he’s overtaxing the engine, but Quint only leans harder on the throttle. The engine gives out. 

Brody goes to the radio to call the Coast Guard for help but is shocked when Quint smashes the radio with a baseball bat before the message can get out. This leads to an even angrier reprise of “City Hands,” now with Brody insulting Quint instead of Hooper, calling him “certifiable.” Quint shouts more than sings that he can handle it and he doesn’t need rescuing “this time.” The song shifts to the slower, gentler melody that was used when Brody calmed Hooper and Quint before as Quint tells Brody he vowed that would never be helpless in the water again. Both Brody and Hooper, who was heard the entire outburst, are struck silent.

“Beautiful (Reprise)” - Hooper somberly volunteers to be lowered into the anti-shark cage. Brody argues against it, but, for once, Quint is willing to hear Hooper out. Hooper sings about how putting himself in harm’s way is his only chance to the tune of his intro song, “Beautiful.” Hooper then admits that Quint is right, he hasn’t been through what Quint has, but he’s willing to try and prove his worth. Quint and Brody realize they don't have much choice and agree.

Hooper goes into the cage. Brody takes Hooper’s glasses, and Hooper gives them both one last look before he puts on his mask and goes under. 

“In the Cage” - Instrumental. While below the water (which is just another part of the stage covered in blue spotlights), Hooper tries to attack the shark with the syringe on the end of a spear, but he drops it. The shark begins to break its way into the cage, but Hooper manages to escape and hides behind some rocks, apologizing to the men above for failing.

Quint and Brody, of course, can’t hear him, nor can they see what’s happening below. Quint and Brody pull up the cage to find it mangled and empty. Brody is devastated, thinking that Hooper is dead, but Quint seems to be truly unraveling. He sings a shaky reprise of “Those Eyes,” this time obsessing over the look Hooper gave them before he went under. He frantically recalls that he saw the same look on the faces of his crew mates after the sinking of the Indianapolis. Tragically, the song also functions as a callback to “My Boy Is Dead.” (”It’s far too late for me now to take back the things I’ve said. / They’ll haunt me ‘til my dying day. / Because that boy is dead.”)

“Quint’s End” - Instrumental, spoken dialogue. Quint can’t get the last image of Hooper out of his mind and begs him to stop looking at him like that. Brody is alarmed as Quint’s pleas to Hooper change to pleas to his dead crew mate, Herbie Robinson. Quint has slid into a full-blown PTSD flashback. In his mind, he’s back in the waters of the Pacific thirty years ago, surrounded by sharks and dead crew mates. Brody tries to calm Quint down by reminding him where he is, but at that moment, the shark leaps onto the stern, and the Orca lists backwards. (In my head, the Orca set is on some kind of platform that can be raised at an incline.) Both men begin to slide toward the waiting jaws of the shark. Brody manages to grab onto the door frame leading into the cabin. He tries to hold onto Quint, but Quint slips out of his hand. Quint tries to fight back against the shark, but with a sickening crunch, Quint falls silent. The shark retreats with Quint’s lifeless body.

“Smile!” - Payback time. The Orca is sinking fast, and Brody knows that if he ends up in the water, it’s game over. Brody manages to ward the shark off with one of Hooper’s scuba tanks. The shark takes the scuba tank into its mouth, giving Brody the chance to climb onto the mast with Quint’s rifle. The music ramps up in speed and intensity as the shark closes in. Brody’s singing ramps up to match as he fires at the shark again and again, reminding himself of his promise to protect others and vowing that this shark will never kill anyone again. Then, with a final, bombastic, “So, smile you son of a bitch!” he gets a hit on the tank, and the shark explodes. He whoops and hollers as the music swells.

The finale instrumental is both sad and sweet. The sinking mast deposits Brody in the water. Hooper surfaces besides him. They laugh together, relieved that it’s over. Hooper asks about Quint, but Brody only responds with the single word, “No.” Hooper and Brody are close enough to paddle back to shore, so they do just that. As they set off, Brody begins to sing, “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” Hooper joins in. The curtain falls.

[bijoharvelle]

a coda of sorts for 15.18 Despair. MAJOR HUGE SPOILERS for the episode so please proceed with caution if you haven’t watched yet (has anyone not watched yet??) angst with a hopeful ending.

Here’s what doesn’t happen: Cas smiles and laughs through his tears and says, “You changed me, Dean.”

There’s a beat of uncertainty but through it, Dean steps forward. He walks towards Cas. This is an angel of the Lord who followed him from Hell, who came when he called and betrayed his trust and earned it back. An angel who gave up an army, a Host, his Grace, the favor of his brothers and sisters, all for Dean. So Dean steps forward and hesitantly puts a hand to Cas’s waist. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?” he asks.

“Because it is.” Cas voice shakes and shatters and he leans into Dean’s touch. He presses one hand, palm bloody, to Dean’s shoulder and cups it there. “I love you,” he says, and it’s sure and strong. They’re called love confessions but this feels more like an absolution, like a benediction. 

Dean can feel the press of Cas’s hand as he tries to push him away, out of the way, because there’s a teeming wall of void that’s opened behind them but Dean holds his ground.

They meet in the middle, Dean holding Cas at his waist and the collar of his trench coat and kissing him like he needs it to breath. He can feel the shudder-shock of Cas’s breath in the kiss, shaky inhale to clipped exhale. There are tears on Cas’s cheeks pressing into his own and Dean, stupidly, thinks, I’ve never seen him cry. He’s seen Cas’s blue eyes go glassy and red, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen them spill over.

One of his hands moves to cradle the back of Cas’s head, fingers in that fucking hair of his and when Cas breaks the kiss, Dean holds him there, keeps him close. Their noses bump, foreheads brush, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s crying or if it’s just Cas’s tears on his face. “Don’t do this, Cas,” he says and it’s begging. I’m not one for praying because in my books it’s the same as begging. “Please. Castiel.”

Before he knows what’s happening, cold air rushes to fill the space that was once Cas. Dean sees just the edges of the Empty’s tendrils, black and shimmering and all-consuming. He turns on the balls of his feet just in time to watch the rift against the wall close up.  

Here’s what doesn’t happen: Cas tells him that it is a goodbye and Dean shakes his head, hard. “No,” he counters, “No. This isn’t happening.” And he puts himself in Cas’s space, curves his hand around the back of his neck. He holds him there and meets his eyes, like he had with Jack, just a few months ago. “You’re family, Cas. We don’t give up on family, even if looks like there’s nothing left.”

“Dean--”

But Dean rushes to cut him off. “I love you,” he says and he can feel his cheeks getting hot, his throat thickening. “Okay? Cas. I love you. And I need you here. Cas, please.” 

Cas smiles, beatific, and Dean can’t help but think that he’s beautiful, incandescent. An angel of the Lord, here with him. “I love you too, Dean,” he says and he’s smiling, the tone in his voice is almost laughter. “Please remember that. I’ve loved you, all this time.” He presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder and Dean remembers, for a brief moment, Hell. He remembers Cas reaching down and pulling him out.

When the Empty reaches out, when it takes Cas, Dean isn’t ready. He screams and dives for the eddying mass of nothing but you can’t put your hands on something that isn’t. The wall closes back to its industrial brick and Dean is alone, pounding until his knuckles split.

Here’s what happens: Sam is feral with worry as they make the near eight-hour drive back to the bunker. Jack has his phone, calling everyone Sam can think of between trying Dean and Cas over and over again. Dean’s phone keeps ringing out to his voicemail. The calls to Cas drop as soon as they get placed. 

The car is still running, thrown into park at an angle up against the bunker’s entrance and once they’re inside, both Jack and Sam are screaming for Dean and Cas. Sam is sure that he’s going to find Dean’s phone on the floor, shattered, with all those messages and calls collecting, just like Eileen’s. He doesn’t know what to expect of Cas.

He and Jack end up skittering into the basement together, trailing a ragged, scorched scratch-mark on the wall. And then, they find him.

“Dean!” Sam shouts and slides to his knees. He takes his brother’s face in his hands and makes him meet his eyes. Dean’s chest is working, eyes wet and red and Sam’s heart sputters. “What the hell happened, man?” He handles Dean gently because he thinks he has an idea. Thumbs come up, to brush away the tears, like Dean always did for him when they were kids, when they weren’t kids.

“Cas is gone,” Dean gasps out. “He’s gone, he’s really gone.” And he pitches forward, shaking. His fingers bite into Sam’s shoulders so hard he’s sure there will be bruises and all Sam can do is cradle his brother to his chest.

Jack drops to the floor, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder and letting out his own grief. Through it all, Sam sits and holds his brother, puts his hand to the back of their kid’s head and tries to keep them all together.

It takes awhile. He has to coax Dean to his feet and then up into the kitchen - his brother looks like a man possessed, like a ghost, like a ghoul, like something already dead. Jack follows him like a lost duckling, trailing behind Sam as he settles Dean at the table and then makes coffee because it’s something he knows how to do.

“Dean,” he says softly, once they’re all sitting together with steaming mugs. “You gotta tell us what happened.” And he knows, he understands. He remembers just yesterday - God, was it only yesterday - how it felt to know that if you say it, if you acknowledge it, your whole world will fall apart and you’ll be useless. I can’t go there. But they need to know, so they can make a plan.

It comes out in halting spirals, in between whining breaths and deep shudders. More than once, Dean trails toward guilt, toward shame, toward I should have done something, why didn’t I do anything. Sam redirects him as firmly as he can manage.

He’s known about Cas’s feelings for years - in fact, he’s pretty sure Cas had only just discovered it himself when he came to Sam. They didn’t talk about it often but when they did, Cas was gingerly ecstatic at just being near Dean, just sharing space with him. He would have been content to follow Dean through the rest of his life without having said a word.

When Dean finishes, tells them that the Empty took Cas and Billie disappeared, he folds his arms on the table and buries his head. Jack, sitting next to him, puts a hand to his arm and fits his face into Dean’s shoulder. Sam watches as, slowly, Dean shifts one hand to cover Jack’s.

Sam lets them have a moment, let’s them mourn and revel in the mourning, but then he dips his head and says, “Dean, this is good.”

His brother picks his head up so fast he almost brains Jack.

“It’s the Empty,” Sam rushes to explain. “We know how it works. We know what it wants. We know exactly where Cas is and how to get there.”

Dean blinks through new tears tessellating his lashes. “You... You mean get him back?” His voice is shot to hell and it breaks when he says him, like he was going to say Cas’s name. But for the first time since they split up last night, Sam thinks he sees something like hope blossom over Dean.

“I mean get him back.”

Dean didn’t tell Sam, word for word, what Cas said but Sam has always known that his brother operates from love. He was the kid, after all, who Dean raised. Dean wiped his tears and kissed his skinned knees and proofread his essays and taught him about cars and girls and drinking and their father. Sam is alive and the person he is today because of Dean’s love.

So it’s tragic and terrible and it hurts. He hurts for his brother and Jack, he hurts for Cas and Eileen and Donna and everyone else, but he’s also, suddenly, alive with the gift that Chuck and the Empty have given them.

Sam watches as Dean realizes it in degrees. He straightens his shoulders back and wipes a hand down his face. He looks to Jack and, so tenderly, reaches out to clear away his tears too. And then, Sam watches as his brother smiles. “Hell yes, we’re gonna get him back.” Dean watches Jack until the kid tries for a smile and then he turns to Sam and he sees there’s a smile already there.

The thing that Chuck doesn’t understand, that the Empty can’t understand, is everything the Winchesters have ever done, has been family. And it’s been for love. So taking these cosmic entities out with love as the power chord running under their mission...

Well, let’s just say they’ve got work to do. 

-

@prayedtoyou • @folklorecastiel • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @nesnej •  @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @madronasky • @dizzypinwheel • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @destielangst • @destiel-is--real • @brazencas • @destielle • @flowersforcas • @50shadesofsubtext • @multifandomagic • @fluffiestlou • @geo-val • @menjiiii • @top13zepptraxx • @lanaserra • @eccentriccas • @trasherasswood • @angelresort • @starlightcastiel • @dreamnovak • @jazzbabythatsme • @lyndalynn • @organicpurplepants • @cursed-or-not • @contemplativepancakes • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner  • @galaxymysteryelephant • @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @one-more-offbeat-anthem • @keata-kaylee • @redsconfusion • @bennedict • @mishha • @smushedmuffins • @galaxycastiel

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

He was wasting precious time. His primary object was Eren and getting to him before the last hope of humanity had his ass kicked by Marleyan tech or another shifter. His second no less important task was finding Eren's brother and playing a little shit show for his Marleyan superiors.

Eren was already being taking care of and Levi had Zeke in his line of sight. All he had to do was swoop in and get the bearded bastard.

Still, the time was of the essence. Every second wasted meant another useless death. And he had enough of this massacre already.

He had to be focused, had to remain vigilant. But as he flew through the burning city his focus began to slip and his attention was occupied by things of no importance to his goal. He couldn't help but wonder - that small cafe that was just exploded by a thunder spear, did she use to frequent it? And that alley to his left, maybe it had led to her house? Did she even have a house here, in the inner city? Or did she live somewhere else, maybe, in barracks with her fellow warriors? Or, maybe, in a little house in the middle of a forest she used to tell him about?

It didn’t matter, he told himself, none of it ever did.

What mattered right now was the plan and following through with it. Everything else was meaningless.

Keep your head in the game, Levi reminded himself, gritting his teeth. He directed his gaze to the ground, where a chaos was unraveling at a more rapid speed that he had expected.

The swirl of people in white uniforms danced around the city. Some of them, armed with guns and rifles, attempted to fight back, others, less courageous ones - ran for their lives.

Each time one of them fell, receiving a bullet to the head, or getting buried under debris from blown up buildings, his heart stopped. Despite his insistent thoughts - she wouldn't care about you, she never did - he still looked for a mess of brown hair in the crowd.

He wasn't sure if his heart would be able to take it if he saw her there - amongst dozens of dead bodies.

She wouldn't care about you, she never did - and yet, he still couldn't treat her with the same indifference.

Keeping Zeke in his line of sight, Levi landed in the nearby alley. He took out his pocket watch, checking the time. His ride would arrive soon, and that meant—

Showtime, he thought grimly, releasing his cables and readying his blades.

It didn't lessen the pain hidden in the depth of his soul, but hurting Zeke, cutting and hitting him gave the catharsis he was waiting for ever since their last meeting.

First he cut off his left arm - that's for all the scouts that lost their lives because of you.

Then he went for the right arm - that's for Nanaba.

He moved to the right leg, cutting it down and making the beast fall on one knee - that's for Mike.

And that's - he thought - as he slashed through his left leg - that's for Erwin, you fucking dipshit.

The beast collapsed, plummeting face-first into the ground. Levi landed on top of him, taking out a grenade.

He plunged his blade into beast's body, afflicting the final wound. He removed the pin, thinking - that's for taking her away from me too.

The crowd around them swayed, the masses stood terrified in a face of their biggest defender losing so easily to a devil from Paradise. Levi would have even smirked, if this whole farce didn't disgust him so much. He would have enjoyed injuring the beast, if it wasn't a part of Zeke's own, carefully orchestrated plan.

The airship was fast approaching, and so Levi pulled Zeke's body out, scowling at the sight of his hideous face.

"You truly are one of a kind, asshole," Levi whispered to him. "I have never seen anyone uglier than you."

"There are some who enjoy my looks, Levi," the fucking monkey managed to say, despite half of his face missing. "One of my admirers used to be your friend once. Tell me, Captain, do you still miss her?"

Fucker.

Levi shoved his blade into bastard's stomach, going as deep as he could. God, he wanted another round with him. He wanted to beat the shithead until there was no sass left in him.

"I would shut up if I were you, beast. Or I'll be busy cutting your tongue during the whole trip back to the island."

"Careful with your language," Zeke advised with a disgustingly sweet smile. "Someone's watching."

Instinctively, Levi looked up. Immediately, he felt his throat close up because there, on top of the building he saw—

Messy brown hair, those stupid, too big glasses—

His limbs moved on his own accord.

"Take him," he instructed Moblit, kicking Zeke's half formed body to him.

"Captain, the airship—"

"One minute," he promised and soared into the air.

***

Goddamnit, but she didn't age a day. The same proud posture, the same determined expression.

She stood on top of a rooftop, a rifle in her hands. Not far behind her Levi could see the Cart Titan.

Was Hange the one who advised the shifter to use the hard machinery? Most probably. She was the one who knew about scouts’ fighting style the most. Knew their advantages, knew how to exploit their weaknesses.

No surprise in that, she was a scout for almost five years too, after all.

All these times she begged him to show his tricks, to explain how he could move so differently from the others, was it with a malicious intent too? Not to satisfy her abnormal curiosity, but to simply gather more intel?

Was there any moment out of thousands, where she wasn’t pretending?

The rifle in her hands trembled, as she saw him appear.

"Levi," she murmured, and his knees almost gave up under him.

Damn her, damn her to hell and back, but even after all the pain she had inflicted on him, after all these lies and betrayals she was still able to set his heart ablaze.

She was the only one who ever could.

"Hange," he said, swallowing down 'shitty four-eyes'. That wasn't her. Not anymore. He lost his four-eyes four years ago, the night before they've ventured to Shiganshina.

Before him now stood a stranger. A stranger he was still reluctant to harm.

"You knew this was going to happen," he told her.

"I guess this is it." Hange nodded.

She didn't try to shoot at him, didn't call for help.

She knew it would only delay the inevitable. She was always too smart for her own good. Apparently that part of her wasn't a lie.

But everything else was. That's why he did what he had to do.

With a heavy heart, Levi took a step forward.

***

"Ah, and here I was worried it'd be a boring trip with only Captain Brooding as my companion." Zeke tilted his head, offering the most charming of his smiles. "Professor Hange, seeing you is always a pleasure. I'd shake your hand, but," he shrugged, pointing at his tied hands. "I'm in a rather unfortunate predicament."

"Zeke," she chocked out, shifting her gaze from him to Levi. A heartbeat later, her eyes widened in realization.

Too smart for her own good, Levi thought, watching Hange deliver a vicious kick to Zeke's thigh, fiery despite the bindings on her own arms and legs.

Watching that was almost satisfying.

"Asshole!" she raged, kicking him again. "Scheming, pathetic betrayer!"

"You're the one to talk," Levi noted dryly.

At the sound of his voice, Hange froze. She calmed down immediately, bowing her head.

Zeke observed the two of them, a malicious spark in his eyes.

"So my earlier guess was right, Captain? You do miss—"

"Shut the fuck up," Levi warned in a low voice. "Or my previous threat would become a reality."

Zeke curled his lips in a smile, and, maintaining direct eye contact with Levi, he had the audacity to wink at him. “My lips are sealed.”

Levi reached to his blade.

"What is going on here?” Jean walked onto the deck, stopping Levi from using his very sharp weapon on their very precious charge. Jean looked around, frowning in confusion. His eyes widened, as they landed on Hange. "What is she doing here?" his face changed, jaw tightening.

"None of your business," Levi muttered, sheathing his blade and pushing Jean away.

"None of my business?" Jean repeated, glaring at him. "I think it is my goddamn business, when you go against the plan without discussing it with us first."

"Careful, Kirshtein," Levi narrowed his eyes. "Despite the stupid democracy, I'm still your superior. Meaning you will do as I say."

"Captain," Jean grabbed his elbow. "I know how you feel about—"

"You know shit," Levi hissed, his low voice almost getting lost amongst the celebration around them. Stupid Floch and his band of fanatical idiots. "This has nothing to do with my so called feelings. But we need to question her. In case you forgot, she is one of Marley's best engineers."

"Exactly," Jean retorted. "She's valuable to them. That's why you had to kill her. Without her they'd be lost."

Without her - I'd be lost too.

The ruckus around them had been growing louder and louder. It was getting hard to concentrate, even without the added distraction of Hange's eyes boring into the back of his head.

He swept his gaze across the deck, looking for Moblit. He needed someone to put an end to that merry festivity, he would have done so himself, but the way Floch and his friends shouted and cheered made him doubt that he'd be able to calm them down without throwing some mouth-breather the fuck out of the airship.

He motioned for Moblit to come closer, ignoring Jean’s enraged gaze, when suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a sharp cry, the still familiar voice shouting,

"Gabi, no!"

Levi whipped his head around, his eyes widening as he saw Hange - somehow freed from all bonds - launching herself at Sasha.

He rushed there, the malicious voice in his head chanting - this is all your fault, all of it is your fault, it's your inability to let go that is going to-

He stopped when the thundering, earsplitting sound shook the previously cheerful atmosphere.

He froze, staring at the scene with dumb confusion. The smoke rising from a rifle clutched in child's hands, the bullet flying, soaring through the spot where Sasha was standing seconds ago.

She didn’t try to—

He allowed himself to take a breath.

She saved Sasha, he realized, staring at Hange, who wore the same perplexed expression as he did.

"What is going on here?" Armin's soft voice cut through the air, making every head turn in his direction.

"The Marleyans got onto our ship!" one of the soldiers reported.

"Should we throw them out now or—”

"They're just children," Hange spoke up. "They don't know what they're doing."

"Hange-san..." Armin gasped. "What are you—" he turned to Levi. "Captain, what is the meaning of this?"

"She's Marleyan engineer and strategist. I decided it'd be wise to capture her."

"Alright, we'll deal with this later..." Armin muttered, rubbing his forehead. "And about those children..."

"The girl almost killed Sasha," Jean said, coming to stand at Armin’s side.

"Don't touch her!" Hange cried out, covering both kids with her body.

"Don't order me." Jean spat. "You're not my superior officer. Not anymore."

"And yet I still know you, Jean," Hange stared him in the eyes. "I know you're not capable of harming a child. Think of what your mother is going to say."

"You know nothing about me!" he growled, his fists trembling and his face reddening in anger. "You lying, deceiving—”

"That's enough," Levi sharply interrupted. "Moblit, help me deal with our prisoners. There are a lot more of them than we’ve expected."

Moblit nodded readily, obeying his command without a question. As he led Hange back to her place, his grip on her was gentle and his eyes were sad.

Approaching the two children, Levi stared them down, silently ordering the girl to put down the rifle. She surrendered with an annoyed huff.

Her demeanor changed, however, as soon as Levi's gaze turned to her friend.

"Don't hurt Falco, please," she whispered, sniffling. "He isn't guilty, he's not like me."

"No one is going to hurt you or your friend," Levi rolled his eyes, scoffing. "We're not that much of devils."

Putting his arms around their shoulders, he led kids to the back of the airship.

As they were passing Zeke, the girl - Gabi, Hange had called her - stopped in her tracks.

Her lip trembled, as she gawked at the shifter. "M-mister Yeager? You're here too? B-but why?"

What a goddamn circus, Levi cursed.

He sighed, pushing them forward before the beast could even open his mouth and feed the poor kids a lie, or, worse, reveal the truth about his betrayal.

Once he tied the girl and a boy down, he closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath.

Two angry Marleyan children, the bearded beast and Hange fucking Zoe, a person he dreamt about every night he slept for more than two hours. And all of them were aboard one damned airship.

There was one thing Levi was sure of - one hell of a fucking trip was awaiting them.

[sunjaesol]

and all i've seen is green eyes and freckles and your smile

juke | childhood friends to lovers | title: everything has changed // taylor swift

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Hey! Can I make pies with you?" A voice chirps.

Luke looks up from his serious work, sweat building on his forehead, and meets the eyes of a girl from his classroom. She's Julie, he thinks, though it could also be Flynn or Thea or Penny. They all sit together.

"It's chocolate," he explains, digging his fingers in the mud. "Do you like chocolate?"

"I love chocolate!" she yells, collapsing in the sandbox beside him and tucking her cloud of curls behind her ears.

Their jeans are stained and their elbows are scratched, but by the end of recess, they've baked about a dozen different cakes and have 'tried' a few as well.

"My mom makes the best cakes," she babbles as the bell rings, the two sauntering to the spot Miss Bloom would be waiting. "Like, real cakes, and I help her."

"That's cool." He stuffs his tiny hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I like cake too. My mom doesn't make it though."

"Then how do you know you like cake?"

"We buy it from the store, duh!" he laughs. "My favourite's confetti cake."

She hums in agreement. "I like peanut butter cherry a lot."

He gawks. "Whoa! That sounds crazy!"

"Do you wanna try a slice sometime?"

They go to stand in line with the other kids of their class, Miss Bloom counting their heads.

"Sure!"

—

The class goes to the zoo the next week, and Luke and Julie stick together as newly formed best friends. She holds his hand when he's scared of the zebras, and he helps her stand a little higher on the gate to get a better look at the llamas.

She, Flynn and Luke make the biggest collage of pictures and drawings the class had ever seen.

She feigns reading his hand and tells him his future is bright, a word that sticks with him and starts using for the rest of year.

She also tells him they'll be best friends forever and it gains her the biggest hug in the world.

Second grade ends and all of her friends go to her house to eat peanut butter cherry pie and listen to music in the garden as they play games.

She links pinkies with Luke at the end of night. "Friends forever?"

He grins, missing a front tooth. "Forever and more!"

—

"Reggie's parents are fighting," Luke quips, both of them upside down on the monkey bars.

Julie looks at him. His face is turning red. She wonders if she looks the same right now. "Fighting? Like, yelling ?"

"I don't know." He tries to shrug but his arms just flop around. "He just says they're fighting. Maybe they'll get a DJ."

Her nose curls up. "A DJ?"

"A DJ... like when moms and dads aren't together anymore."

She giggles. "A divorce, silly!"

Alex and Reggie trudge to their spot on the playground and mount themselves on the monkey bars.

"What are we taking about?" Reggie asks.

Alex pouts. "I don't wanna go upside down. What if I fall?"

"I've fallen and I'm still alive," Luke counters.

Alex shrugs and sits on the bars, but doesn't drop upside down. He can still listen like this.

"About your parents," Julie says, "about fighting."

Reggie makes a face. "I just don't like it. Like, I'm loud, but they're loud!"

Luke makes a noise of excitement, not unlike a strangled animal. He puffs, hoisting himself up. The rest follows and suddenly Alex isn't alone.

"Let's do a sleepover!" he exclaims. "My house!"

Everyone hollers and agrees. Julie raises her hand. "Can Flynn come too?"

"Why?"

"Because Flynn is fun and my best friend too!"

Alex smiles. "I like her too."

Reggie wiggles his brows. "Like like?"

"Ew, no!"

"So?" Julie stresses, looking at Luke.

He shrugs. "Sure. She can come too."

—

They're ten when Luke yells, "Ew, no, I don't like Julie!"

The girl in question who had been making their way to the group of boys, ready to ask Luke, Alex and Reg to play, balks at his exclaim. He doesn't like her? But they're best friends!

Hurt and offended, she stomps the last few meters and yells his name.

"Luke!"

He turns around in surprise. "Jules!"

"What do you mean you don't like me?!"

All the boys start laughing and snickering, muffling their mouths or blatantly pointing at her. She crosses her arms. Boys are so stupid!

"I don't!" he rushes.

"WHAT?!"

"I don't like like you," he clarifies, annoyed by the boys.

She stops for a moment. "Well, duh."

"Ya see," Luke grins, "Julie and I are just tight, okay?"

Bobby shrugs. "Whatever. You're still a sissy for being best friends with a girl!"

Anger floods her senses once more and she makes a consecutive decision right then and there. Pounding forward, she takes a resolute turn to Bobby and then slams her foot on his.

He yelps in agony, grabbing his foot and falling on the ground.

"That's what you get!" she yells.

"Yeah!" Luke and Reggie exclaim.

"Uh, guys—" Alex stutters.

They turn around to an angry mister Trent. Great, she thinks, now she's getting the blame for what Bobby started!

At least Luke doesn't like like her. That would've been a disaster.

(She gets detention, but it's worth it. Bobby stops bothering her.)

—

(But then Luke steals her first kiss that summer when they're by the pool playing truth or dare because Kayla wants to be adventurous. She's been obsessed with the idea of kissing and pushes Luke and Julie to do it.

It's brief, light as a feather and kind of weird, but she doesn't hate it.

His face turns bright as a cherry and she's kind of embarrassed for a day, but then they're cool and just don't talk about it.)

—

Reggie's parents divorce when they're in the sixth grade and they hold many more sleepovers. 

—

"Don't move," Julie orders, carefully putting toothpaste on his pimple, "it's gonna work, I promise."

Luke groans. "You promise? It's HUGE!"

"It really isn't," she lies, because it's probably as big as the Kilimanjaro.

"I wanted to be cool on the first day of middle school and now I have a pimple," he whines, falling back on her bed when she's done.

Capping her toothpaste, she shrugs. "You're cool... just with a pimple. We're still biking together, right?"

"Of course!"

—

She feels the first prick of jealousy when Luke is dubbed 'the cutest boy of seventh grade' and all the girls start swarming him or asking her what he likes.

Well, he likes rock music and poking snails and her mom's pies. Does that help them make Luke their boyfriend? She doesn't think so!

"They're stealing my friend!" Julie grumbles to Flynn as they're both watching Thea make a move, or whatever that means.

"Luke isn't gonna stop being your friend," Flynn reassures. "But boys are dumb. So, I don't know."

Luke feels his first hit of jealousy at the eighth grade spring fling dance when he sees Nick asking Julie to dance during some sappy Ed Sheeran song. He thinks she'll say no, but to his baffled surprise, she says yes! To Nick! Why would anyone want to dance with Nick?! Luke swears the kid eats his own boogers.

"Why is she dancing with Nick and not with me?" he nags, standing beside Alex and Reggie as they're hoarding food.

Reggie grins. "Jealous?"

"Uh, no!"

"Sure."

—

It kind of gets awkward after that.

In the summer between eighth and ninth — aka, the start of freaking high school! — they both undergo major bouts of puberty.

Luke gets a growth spurt and constantly has aching knees, Julie graduates from a training bra to an actual bra because she suddenly has boobs and she's scared it'll change things.

Now, she also looks different from the guys. They'll still like her, right?

Julie swaps her glasses for contact lenses since it's easier and Luke buys his first guitar from mowing lawns all summer long.

Because of that, he lost a lot of his baby fat.

Suddenly, her best friend is kind of… attractive.

—

Luke gets his first girlfriend in freshman year and it isn't Julie and she hates how it comes as a surprise to her that… well… it isn't her. It's Thea, of all people. Guess that one move she made in seventh grade paid off.

According to Luke, they go on dates to the movies sometimes, or hang out at the skatepark, and kiss when no one's looking.

"I've kissed plenty of girls," Reggie boasts, noting his Bible summer camp experience. "Catch up, Luke."

"Me and Thea kiss a ton!" he exclaims, but it doesn't sound convincing. "Like, a lot!"

Alex and Julie share a disgusted look from across the cafeteria table. He came out as gay this year to them and Julie doesn't like girls, so these conversations are useless to them.

"Can we talk about something else?" she whines. "This is boring!"

Luke shrugs. "Pearl Jam brought out a new album."

The one statement diverts the conversation completely, much to her enjoyment, until Thea walks to their table and steals Luke from them.

Julie sees red.

Alex asks her if she likes Luke during a quiet moment.

"No," she mutters. "Not like that."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me?"

"No... not really."

—

They break up after three months and right then, Julie and Nick get together. He's sweet and kind and smart and cute and when he kisses her, he's soft and careful. She likes it. She feels safe around Nick.

He teaches her a bit of lacrosse, she teaches him how to make empanadas.

It's clear Luke doesn't like him though.

"He's so boring, Julie," he says. "I don't know what you see in him."

"What did you see in Thea?" she challenges him.

"She was cute," he shrugs, "and nice. And she's a good kisser."

She smiles, victorious, and crosses her arms. "There you go. Your explanation."

His face sours. "I don't believe he's a good kisser."

"Want to try for yourself?"

He rolls his eyes. "No. Whatever. Have fun on that date of yours," he mutters the last, grabbing his shoes and walking out her bedroom.

She's angry and distracted during the entire date and she hates herself for realising weeks later that Luke was right. Nick is boring.

Sweet, but boring.

She breaks up with him after three months — as long as Luke and Thea were together — and suddenly she understands why Luke behaved the way he did.

Why she behaved the way she did.

They're playing truth or dare in someone's basement at a birthday party, all carefully drinking from a can of cheap beer, when Carrie dares Luke to kiss Julie.

He kisses her… and then they keep kissing.

The group hollers when they don't separate after three seconds and go insane when his hand slips up her cheek and it prolongs to ten.

Their faces are red and awed when they pull back and the others in the circle look like they've won the Olympics.

"Talk?" Luke rasps.

"Yes."

He grabs her hand and pulls her out the circle, everyone ooh-ing and ah-ing, thinking they're gonna do something scandalous. They find themselves in an empty hallway. Luke lets go of her hand and starts nervously scratching at his neck.

"So, uh, that kiss, uh—"

"I liked it," she blurts. It's the biggest risk of her life, but she takes it anyway. "What, uh, did you think?"

"Yeah!" He rushes forward, sudden surge of excitement. "Yeah, I liked— I really liked it. I- I wanna kiss you again."

She smiles. "You do?"

He blushes. "Yeah."

"Okay," she giggles.

And then he's right there, cradling her cheeks while she's holding onto the hem of his t-shirt and it's sweet and warm and way different than when she kissed Nick. It's more.

She really likes him. She really really really likes Luke to an insane degree.

They talk and share little kisses on the couch for the entire night, giddy and dopey. Her heart is bursting! It may be one of the best moments of her young life.

—

"Hey," he grins, kissing her square on the lips as he meets her by her locker. 

It's the start of senior year. Only a few more months until freedom and the beginning and end of milestones, but Luke's a constant. 

To her, he'll be a constant forever. 

"Hey," she smiles, grabbing his hand. "Ready to go?" 

"Ready when you are."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @unsaid-emily​ @willexx​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​ @ourstarscollided​

[thefanficmonster]

Sign From The Past

Andrew/Abraham (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Spoilers for Little Hope, Swearing, Blood and Injury, Bus Crash (Mentioned)

Genre: Romance, A bit of Angst

Summary: Following the bus crash and the group of students and their professor getting stranded in the eerie town of Little Hope, Y/N and Andrew come to find out a lot about and themselves as in their thoughts and feelings as well as about each other. It does take a little push from the past to pass the threshold though.

Requested by 💞 Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was a real joy to write. Also thank you so much for your patience - I know the wait has been really long and I’m extremely sorry for that but I still hope you come across the fic and read it. If so, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Y/D/N - Your Double’s Name (Same first letter as your name)

Y/N stands behind John and observes as her professor is attempting to wake up the possibly concussed boy sitting on the ground with his back against the roof of the flipped bus they had all been safely seated in less than ten minutes ago. Her classmate and best friend Taylor’s struggling to fetch even the tiniest possible signal with her phone held up in the air, muttering curses under her breath. Two more classmates are unaccounted for at the moment but that’s not what’s bothering Y/N the most right now - maybe it’s messed up, but it’s true. 

The girls main attention and worry is focused on the boy who’s still unconscious. The boy she’s praying will wake up soon.

Being the only one with a med major, Y/N was quick to tend to any external wounds such as the cut on Andrew’s forehead which was rather deep but nothing to get too worked up about. There was not much she could do without a med-kit which made her feel utterly helpless and useless while John continuously reassured her Andrew and the rest of them would all be ok.

Come on, Andrew. Don’t scare us like this

As if overhearing her thoughts, Andrew’s eyes started fluttering open, causing Y/N’s heartbeat to pick up, her legs automatically carrying her closer to him, ducking down in front of him to get a good look at him.

She’s the first person his gaze lands upon before fluttering over to John. His eyebrow seems to raise ever so slightly before he looks at Y/N again, “Y/N, what happened? Who’s that?“

Her heart dropped and so did the smile that appeared on John’s face as a result of Andrew’s consciousness returning.

Overhearing Andrew’s question, Taylor quickly comes over as well, ducking down next to Y/N. “Rise and shine, Andy. We’re stuck in a ghost town, this is no time to be taking naps.”

Andrew scoffs, looking at Taylor, “Maybe you could run that back a bit cause I have no idea where I am or what on Earth happened.” His eyes shift back to you, “Any explanation would be nice, Y/N. Even a shitty one.”

Y/N sighs, “We were going on a fieldtrip and our bus crashed. This is our professor,” she points to John and then to Taylor, “And this is our classmate. Two others are with us but we don’t know where they are at the moment.”

The boy stays quiet for a moment, his gaze distancing and becoming unfocused to the point of scaring Y/N but then he starts talking, focusing again, “You’re a med major, so doc can you please tell me why the hell I remember none of what you just told me?“

Even though the girl is rather shocked by his memory of her and her major, she hurries to recompose herself and reply, “You’re just concussed, Andrew. Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly fine soon, nothing to panic over. I promise.”

Taylor snorts from next to her, cutting the tension, “Wow Andy, you know Y/N AND her major but you can’t even remember our names. Just wow!”

“Not everyone leaves the same impression on a person, Taylor.“ John says, looking between Y/N and Andrew knowingly.

“You got that one right professor.“ Taylor agrees, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own, sending a wink her best friend’s way despite the other girl desperately avoiding her gaze.

All she can really do is sit in the intense heat of her blush and hope it’s not as apparent as her crush on Andrew seems to be.

It’s gonna be one hell of a night, she thinks to herself.

If only she knew how right she was...

                                                            *  *  *

“Feeling any better? Any fatigue or nausea?“ Y/N asks Andrew as the two continue down the road, walking ahead of everybody else. This is a routinely question she’s been asking him every thirty or so minutes while hoping she wasn’t annoying him too much with it.

Luckily, he never made her feel like she was, always replying in a friendly, light-hearted manner and even with a hint of a smile, “No, I’m good, don’t worry.”

Right, as if Y/N had a switch to flip to turn her worry off. She’s always been the nurturing type. The one who always over-cares and is always over-kind. She’s been like that with everyone since forever. But with Andrew, though she refuses to admit it, it’s obviously a bit different and more intense.

Seeing as how she’s the only one he remembers, he’s been sticking by her side and gravitating towards her the whole night - much like she’s been doing as well. Little do they both know that even back on campus, in the gardens and the hallways of their college they’d somehow always end up finding one another and walking together to or from class. There are invisible magnetic forces between them, pulling them towards one another so subtly neither of them have noticed. Not yet, at least.

“Hey look! An old train station.“ Y/N points out, looking first to Andrew then turning around in search of the rest of their group members. Her heart drops when all her gaze lands upon is the thick fog that’s been following them everywhere they’ve gone so far and doesn’t seem to show any sign of thinning anytime soon.

Having noticed her mild distress at the absence of their professor and classmates, Andrew hurries to approach her, subconsciously resting a hand on her shoulder, “Hey, they’re probably right behind us, don’t freak out, ok?” His eyes stare into hers so convincingly that all she can do is nod. When she does so, he continues, “Ok, good. Let’s go into the station, see if we can find anything or anyone.” She nods again, praying the blush that’s appeared on her cheeks as a result of the physical contact isn’t visible in the faint light of the streetlight.

As the two turn to venture onward, Y/N nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels Andrew’s hand slide down her arm to take a hold of hers as if afraid he’d lose her in the dark. She tries not to pay too much mind to it and not read into it, biting her lip to suppress the involuntary smile that’s creeping up on her face.

Seeing this moment with the two so at peace and relaxed, the horrors felt mocked apparently and felt the need to intervene.

Just as the two students are about to pass the threshold into the station, a hand covered in cracked ashy skin takes hold of Andrew’s forearm, pulling him in the station.

And simultaneously into the past.

When him and Y/N come to they are shocked at the sight that greets them: themselves. The two of them are standing next to a horse carriage, wearing attire from centuries ago and speaking in hushed tones and whispers but loud enough to be understood at the distance they were at. Y/N and Andrew decide to stay quiet and avoid being spotted by them.

“Never have I thought I’d have to send you off such a way and for such a reason, Y/D/N.” The man who looks exactly like Andrew says, his head hanging low with disappointment, regret and sorrow.

“Abraham, listen to me, this is no fault of yours. You are doing what you think will keep me from harm and I’m grateful with all my heart. I just worry the Reverend will find out you had something to do with me...“

“I’d regret not a single thing even if he did find out.“ The man, Abraham apparently, cuts the girl - Y/D/N - off, his eyes coming up to meet hers again, his hand taking hold of hers. The girl looks around nervously as if to make sure she’s got permission to hold the hand of the man she clearly loves, but then just nods in gratitude.

“I’m forever in your debt, Abraham, thank you.“ She says, bowing her head now too.

“Do not thank me, Y/D/N, and do not speak such nonsense as debt. I would rather die seen as a betrayer of God than see you burnt at the steak or hanged. My lover is no witch and won’t be treated like one till the day I draw my last breath.“

With that Abraham and Y/D/N share one final hug before he helps her up on the carriage which takes off in a direction where Y/N and Andrew see nothing but darkness.

And just like that, the two present versions of those people, are put back where they belong - in the present, surrounded by fog and darkness as previously. The surroundings that previously gave them an uneasy feeling now make them feel comfort because of their familiarity.

“You ok?“ Y/N jumps when Andrew’s hand’s hold on her tightens ever so slightly as if to free her from the web of confusion and fear.

She nods then shakes her head but manages to let out an affirmative hum to reassure him. “You?”

Andrew repeats the same motion she did - a nod followed by a shake of the head, “Yes and no, if I’m being honest. And on the topic of honesty: I haven’t been at the peak of mine as of recent.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?“

The boy lets out a heavy sigh that is meant to prepare him for what he’s about to say. What he’s about to confess to. “There’s plenty of things I haven’t told you. Things I refused to tell myself too...”

“Andrew, sorry but, I’ve had it with puzzles and riddles all night long. Can you please be straight-forward, I promise I won’t freak out or anything.“

Despite still being hesitant on the matter, Andrew decides to listen to Y/N’s advice - or rather request - and nods before continuing, “You’re one of my best friends, Y/N, I hope you know that and I trust you and I care for you and...and I just tonight came to understanding that it was always something...more than a friend. More than a best friend. I’m sorry if this makes you feel weird or awkward or if you don’t feel the same way please don’t cushion the rejection or pity me. I just...” As he’s talking he makes the mistake of looking her in the eyes which are giving him the most unimpressed look which gets him to shut up asap.

“If you didn’t already have a head injury I’d smack you.“ She says, eyes narrowed, “Andrew, I’m sorry, but you have to be one of the densest and most oblivious guys I’ve ever met. Like, you’re up there at Daniel’s level when he refused to believe Taylor liked him back. That’s how high up you’re on the scale.“

Her words confuse him, leaving him to process all that she’s said until some type of realization hit him. Only one is turning up and he refused to believe it cause it seems so impossible to him.

“I like you too, you dumbass.“ She says, a smile on her face hiding the tons of exhaustion he’d been seeing on it for the past few hours.

“FUCKING FINALLY!“ The familiar voice of no one but Taylor arises from somewhere behind the couple who have now found themselves at a closer proximity than before, arms automatically reaching for the other to take them in their embrace.

Fucking finally indeed, Taylor.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[lunarfly]

Essay: H/Hr cheek kiss and its significance

UNPOPULAR OPINION

I really like the way the Harmione cheek kiss is phrased.

Many people say it was a "flop reaction" but I actually really like it. Of course it isn't the same as his kiss with Ginny, that was a full on kiss while the kiss in GoF is just a cheek kiss. And yet even this simple cheek kiss is so beautiful to me.

Let's take a look:

Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier. Mrs. Weasley was close by him. She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry.”

“See you, Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back.

“’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Harry — thanks,” George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys’ car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come . . . and he would have to meet it when it did.

First of all, I'd like to note that he was standing in front of the whole Weasley family so it wasn't a moment that he shared alone with Hermione. This means that this kiss was displayed in front of a few people.

To me it feels like a parallel to the Harry/Ginny first kiss (such a magical first kiss tbh) where Harry sees Ginny running towards him and he doesn't care about anything, he forgets everything and everyone when he sees her and just kisses her.

We see a somewhat similar scenario with Harry/Hermione. Harry's just given his money to the twins and now he's saying goodbye to everyone. Mrs Weasley hugs him, Ron claps him on the back and then Hermione comes in. She says goodbye, just like Ron, obviously she isn't going to clap him on the back but there's still something she wants to do, something that means more than just a goodbye. And even though there's people who are watching her and Harry(at least the Weasleys, they're not saying bye to each other so they most probably have their eyes on them), she can't stop herself from leaning in and kissing him on his cheek.

It isn't phrased exactly like that, but that's just the impression you'd get when you look at the text closely. Everything happens so fast.

This cheek kiss is especially cute and meaningful when it's put in context. Just think about it. Think about all that Harry's been through this year, especially recently. He had to fight through the third task, see Krum possessed, witness Cedric dying, unwillingly take part in the ritual to bring Voldemort back, see all death eaters line up in front of him and almost get killed by Voldemort. That's a lot of damage. And after all of this, he is being sent back to the Dursleys', knowing he is going to get no emotional support, he's only going to feel like an outcast. Harry knows he will have to face it.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come . . . and he would have to meet it when it did.

Ron and Hermione see all of this. They may not really understand what he's going through, but they both know he's going to need their support and they want to cheer him up. That's the context of the cheek kiss. That's what makes it so sweet and important.

Molly cheers Harry up by telling him that they might be able to see him later during summer, she gives him something to look forward to, to be excited about.

Hermione gives Harry exactly what he needs by kissing him on the cheek, shocking him by doing something she had never done before, making sure this was something he would remember, something that would cheer him up and give him hope.

See what I mean when I say this is a beautiful moment?

But that's not all. I still haven't gotten into the way this is phrased. This isn't a boring or "flop" reaction, even if it's not described like "blissful oblivion".

Let's read closely:

“’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

Harry mentions that Hermione kisses his cheek, which isn't surprising, he points out everything that happens. But what is surprising is how he pays attention to this kiss and how he reacts to it.

He could've just said something like:

“’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione and kissed him on the cheek.

Or even:

“’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione and, surprisingly, kissed him on the cheek.

Just to indicate that this kiss wasn't something he expected at all.

But no.

This left such a big impression on Harry that he’s thinking about it more than he should be. He’s shocked and the way this is said is so beautiful. It’s as if this kiss just made him think about all of their previous interactions and made him realize that kissing him was something that Hermione had never done before, ever. And this reaction is phrased perfectly because we get to see it explicitly from Harry’s mind. It’s not only surprising, it’s also making him think about his relationship with Hermione, realizing that she has taken a step forward. 

That’s another thing I really like about the phrase.

Hermione did something she had never done before. It indicates many things, one of which being that Harry was left shocked about it and thought about it enough to realize this was something new. And another thing being that this is something new. This is something Hermione has never done before and now she has done it. Their relationship is growing. Something was stopping her from doing it before (maybe she felt like they weren’t close enough or she simply never even thought about it) but now she has taken this step. They’ve entered a new stage. She’s opened the gate to an even stronger relationship. It’s like this kiss was something that has brought them closer and bonded them like never before. 

I tried analyzing this phrase as much as I could while also keeping everything canon-based without bringing in headcanons and my imagination. Now ask youself the question, is this phrase really such a disappointment?

I’d like to happily inform you that this essay isn’t over yet. I’ve only analyzed Harry’s reactions. What about Hermione?

This gets a little tricky because the books are written from Harry’s point of view, not Hermione’s. But there’s still something we can make out of the breadcrumbs we have.

I’ve already pointed out that when Hermione kissed Harry’s cheek in front of so many people, she was most probably feeling a similar way to Harry when he kissed Ginny in front of the whole Gryffindor common room in HBP (In Harry/Hermione’s case, the Weasleys were watching but let’s not forget that there are always eyes on the boy-who-lived and they were at the train station! I think it’s safe to assume that at least 5-7 people were watching them). 

But I haven’t talked about what Hermione felt after she kissed Harry.

I personally think Hermione would be just as shocked as Harry, thinking about what she had just done. She kissed Harry’s cheek while quite a few people were watching! She’d be so surprised by her own self. But this is just a personal headcanon of mine, there’s no indication to this in the text whatsoever.

Back to canon, this kiss is the last time Hermione is mentioned in GoF, so we don’t know about how she felt. We only see Harry’s reaction to it, we have no information about Hermione and her feelings. So we’ll have to use a different text to guide us. 

Since this is their last interaction before having to be separated for months, and especially because this moment is a strong and emotional one, I expect this is something they’d think a lot about and they’d remember each other this way. This is the last thing they said to each other, the last time they were in contact. Harry spent a lot of time thinking about Ron and Hermione over the summer and the kiss was the last interaction he had with Hermione, so this would definitely cross his mind. The same thing would happen with Hermione. 

Since we’re talking about summer, let’s use OotP to guide us. 

We don’t learn much from Ron and Hermione’s letters, but we can gather quite a lot of information from their first interactions after months of not seeing each other, their last interaction being this memorable cheek kiss.

Here’s the scene I’m talking about:

He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room, then there was a loud twittering noise, followed by an even louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair — Hermione had thrown herself onto him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron’s tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly round and round their heads.

“HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless — but we couldn’t tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh, we’ve got so much to tell you, and you’ve got to tell us — the dementors! When we heard — and that Ministry hearing — it’s just outrageous, I’ve looked it all up, they can’t expel you, they just can’t, there’s provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —”

 “Let him breathe, Hermione,” said Ron, grinning, closing the door behind Harry. He seemed to have grown several more inches during their month apart, making him taller and more gangly looking than ever, though the long nose, bright red hair, and freckles were the same.

 Hermione, still beaming, let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry’s shoulder.

Wow.

The first thing to note here is how Hermione shrieked. She literally screamed out of excitement. That is already a big and obvious clue that Hermione was thinking a lot about Harry and hoping to see him. 

And then she hugs him. More enthusiastically than ever before. She nearly knocks him flat! 

“Hermione freaks out a bit when she sees Harry. Like she'd been holding her breath. She'd obviously missed him and had been incredibly worried about him. [...] She'd been waiting all summer to speak to him and when she saw him, it was like she just needed to ramble away everything that she'd been wanting to say to him. Harry, despite his obvious animosity, couldn't help but be happy to see her.“ - this quote is taken from here.

The most interesting part is that even after this overwhelming hug and speech, she still doesn’t let go of Harry until Ron ‘reminds’ her to “let him breathe”. She holds onto him for as long as possible.

All of this: the shriek, the hug, the speech, the desire for physical contact is clearly showcasing that Hermione missed him more than ever and she has established an even stronger bond with Harry, so strong that she can’t stop feeling as excited as ever when seeing him. 

Compare to the previous years:

CoS:

“Lousy Muggles,” growled Hagrid. “If I’d’ve known —” 

“Harry! Harry! Over here!” 

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. 

“What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid — Oh, it’s wonderful to see you two again — Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?” 

“As soon as I’ve found the Weasleys,” said Harry. 

“Yeh won’t have long ter wait,” Hagrid said with a grin. 

Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.

PoA:

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned. 

“Harry! HARRY!” 

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him. 

“Finally!” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and —”

GoF:

Mr. Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn’t really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry’s and Ron’s friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron’s younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet — she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow.

Hermione and Harry are always excited to see each other, but never like in OotP. Their relationship really has grown, they have bonded even more and now they're as close as never before.

The phrasing of the kiss and the scene in OotP has made it obvious. The cheek kiss is a turning point in Harry and Hermione's relationship and they both realize this.

That is the significance of the cheek kiss. But enough about the emotions, reactions and changes, what about the visual side of this scene? Take this paragraph as a fun bonus because we were robbed from this absolutely adorable scene in the movies.

The scene takes place at the train station. This place is so loud and chaotic.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; Harry wished it could have gone on all summer, in fact, and that he would never arrive at King’s Cross . . . but as he had learned the hard way that year, time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

[…]

He left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

Mrs Weasley and Ron say goodbye to Harry.

Then Hermione approaches, says goodbye and suddenly kisses his cheek!

As we know from the quote, this is something "she has never done before" so Harry is clearly surprised.

I love imagining Hermione kissing Harry's cheek and then Harry having a surprised, confused and thoughtful expression on his face.

I'm not sure if Harry and Hermione's height difference is mentioned at all in GoF and I'm too tired to research so I can't say if Hermione went on tiptoes or not. I would like it if she did though. :)

All of this quickly vanishes as Fred and George thank Harry and say goodbye and Harry's thoughts shift to the Dursleys...

I wish we had seen this beautiful scene in the movies. If you wish to truly understand the depths of characters and relationships, you should really read the books. This scene is a great demonstration of that.

This marks the end of the essay! To finish it off, I'm going to present my post-kiss headcanons! :D

Hermione being amazed and surprised by herself and thinking about how she had just kissed him

Harry thinking about the cheek kiss during the summer

Hermione having to go on her toes to kiss Harry's cheek (not really post-kiss but still)

Harry feeling cheerful after this kiss

Hermione slightly blushing after kissing his cheek

Some first-year Hogwarts student seeing this kiss and telling all of his/her friends about it

Hermione feeling much more comfortable with establishing physical contact with Harry after this

That's all! I tried my best to analyze this scene, the phrasing and the significance of this moment in full detail. It took my quite a few hours to write but I'm very proud of it. Feel free to express your opinions on this. Thank you! ~ Lia.