#there are so many things here that I slipped in to try characterizing Blue and Dream properly when they're not upholding any image and just!

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART TWO

GENRE ➺ fluff + hoax engagement

SYNOPSIS ➺ you shouldn't be that beautiful in a bridal gown for a wedding that's fictitious to begin with

WARNING ➺ fem reader

DISCLAIMER ➺ I haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment in the books may not line up and it's been a while since i've written anything. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

NOTES ➺ inspired by the try-on wedding gown scene in “extraordinary attorney woo”

   When a 17-year-old signs up to be a ghost hunter, the last thing she expects is to wind up in a bridal boutique. Especially not with her employer improvising the role of her fiancé.

   Lost between fabrics of silk and satin is the story of how you ended up here. You're on the brink of insanity when Lockwood finally does his job as your make-believe fiancé. Chipping in with a compliment, blowing kisses, and raining applause. On a normal day, you could act as if all this was fine and that the flurry of frivolous women weren't tiring. But the dresses were heavy and the lights were blinding. You had his ring, and the look on his face was convincing—but twelve dresses in, and you were ready to crumple into a heap.

   "Why the rush to marry?" Kelly—you think her name was—asks. She was the ringleader for the entire dress-fitting business.

She tightened the corset around you and clipped the fabric around your bust tighter. You couldn't even speak! Luckily enough, Lockwood took note of your lack of oxygen and answered for you. "We're trained agents."

   Kelly pulled the cinches tighter. You wheezed your last wisp of air, gripping the fabric for release. "As in the paranormal kind?"

   Lockwood's eyes shone with pride. "Exactly that! You never know what could happen on a case. Might as well marry while we're breathing, no? Oh- please let my girl breathe, she's turning blue."

   The corset loosened and you sagged in visible relief. Nodding in acknowledgement, you said, "Many thanks."

   "No worries, darling. Wouldn't want you dying before the flower picking." He smiled at you, and you withheld the urge to glare at him. "Have you found what you're looking for, love?"

   You look at the rack and consider just lying... but there was a reason you were here. Judging by his still jumping knee, he hasn't found evidence at all.

   Signing yourself to your fate, you sighed. "No..."

   Kelly jumps with glee. Dragging you behind the curtains before Lockwood could get another word in. The last thing you see of him is a grateful grin. He disregards the simper you throw his way.

   When he's sure you're distracting Kelly, he slips back to the file rooms. Shuffling through documents whilst keeping his ears open. It's not that hard to guess whether Kelly got you into another gown or not. The woman is exorbitant and loud.

   He's got his hands on an incriminating sheet of evidence as he hears it. Kelly's compliments and your terrible attempts at buying him more time. Lockwood stuffs the sheet into his coat pocket and breaks for the lounge. In time for the velvet curtains to draw.

   His eyes are adjusting to the brightened lights again. Yet, all is right when you're unveiled. Sheets of ivory silk rolling down in waves curl around your figure like it's made for you. It's less extravagant than the previous choices but it highlights you the best.

   Whatever fake reaction dies in his throat and his jaw hangs open. Eyes leading up to your giggling face as Kelly pushes a row of spray roses into your hands to "complete the look." He knows all this is pretend. He can't help but wonder how different it would be if ghosts and ghouls didn't invade the world. If the pair of you were a normal boy and a normal girl. If you two weren't 17 and only here for another case. If you were actually dressed in that ivory gown, coming down an aisle as red as the curtains. In an alternate world, would it be reality?

   He's considering the probability of it when you drop the roses to your midsection. Allowing his mother's old ring to gleam in the light before he pulls his eyes right back to you. He reads, "Have you found what you're looking for?" from your lips, and like a puppet on a string, he nods yes, and he's sure he mutters the word, too. But he's not thinking about the evidence in his pocket. He's thinking about you in ivory, and how much better it would be if you were his real bride instead of his fake one.

• i've been wanting to write for the lockwood & co. fandom for a while now hehe

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N  Well, here it is.  The last chapter of Ginger Snap.   As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out.   There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so.  In the meantime,  thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me!   This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.  

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways.  The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.  Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own.  To stand on my own two feet, as it were.   Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February.  This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time.  As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying.  The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air.  Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass.  It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed.  It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed!  I fucking passed!”  An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster.  Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan.  I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.”  My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare.  Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not.  The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely.  “Ye’re gonna do great.  When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.”  The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands.  Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season.  Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms.  The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple.  I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home.  There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home.  With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process.  It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately.  Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi.  How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother.  Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice.  I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not.  Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian.  We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”  

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic.  Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.”  I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly.  “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams.  Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal.  As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands.  At my left hand in particular.  Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?”  I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied.  “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well.  It was the most I could hope for, really.  Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother.  Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him.  I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed.  Says the right woman is worth the wait.”  She paused before adding,  “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed.  “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester.  It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet.  Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support.  For once she didn’t reply immediately.  There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts.  I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you.  I think about you every day.”  A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send.  At least I hadn’t woken him up.  A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist.  Hello.  How are you?

I tried to picture him.  Was he at home?  Working late?  Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright.  Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry.  Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass.  Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man.  I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end.  And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text.  Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie.  I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good.  I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow.   It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news!  I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass.  It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed.  I wasn’t alone in this.  Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?!  It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie.  The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one.  Not a second longer.  I’m just...  what if I fail?

And there it was.  The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did.  What if I failed?   What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me.  You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef.  It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you.  I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right.  But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright.  That helps.  I should let you get to bed.  Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire?  Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat.  Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze.  I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass.  Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken?  I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area.  Jenny was on the phone.  She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in.  I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting.  I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk.  I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves.  Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber.  He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet?  There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it.  I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me.  Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils.  You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.”  More sigh than word.  He slowly turned.  It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him.  It was still there, after all these months.  That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.  

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began.  “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor.  This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued.  “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am.  How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed.  This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another.  Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret.  Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods.  My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart.  Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There.  It was said.  A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free.  Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist.  Come, set my life on fire.”

[knit-wear-it]

Bloom

A/N: Happy Pride! Here’s some Crossbow Canary to celebrate 🏳️‍🌈❤��🏳️‍🌈❤️

They met at a Halloween party. Helena was half-listening to a group of fellow freshmen discussing the politics of TokTok when she noticed her— a petite, athletically-built blonde wearing a yellow hard hat and a slick of red lipstick. It was a shade too dark for her, standing out stark against her pale skin; the mark of a makeup novice. She was laughing with a small group of friends, her smile radiant. She was radiant.

Then, as if she could feel Helena staring, the blonde looked straight at her.

There was a faint flush in the apples of her cheeks as she offered a tremulous but encouraging smile, and Helena practically bolted across the room toward her.

***

Her name was Dinah.

They met again a week later, by accident, at a small martial arts studio off campus. Helena arrived just as Dinah was leaving, her face shiny and blotchy with exertion, her ashy blonde hair plaited back in a sweaty French braid. She wore black Lycra gym-gear beneath her pea coat to stave off the approaching New Jersey winter. Her coat was a vibrant cornflower blue, reminding Helena of the rich pigments Italian Renaissance painters used for Mary Magdalen's robes. Without the dark smear of lipstick, she could see the graceful curve of her prominent Cupid’s bow, giving her face a sweetness that belied the clear-eyed maturity few their age possessed.

“Oh,” Dinah stopped short on the sidewalk, her face lighting up. “Hello,” she grinned.

“Hi,” Helena grinned back at her, suddenly giddy as if she’d eaten a gallon of corn syrup. She could feel excitement fizzing in her veins, propelling her closer like a moth to the flame.

“Do you train here?” Dinah asked, re-shouldering her gym bag.

“They have a Krav Maga class I like,” Helena explained. “You?”

“Jiu Jitsu,” Dinah shrugged, smiling. “My old trainer swore by Krav Maga, but it doesn’t have the same…” she pursed her lips as she took her time to search for the word. “Grace,” she settled on.

“Grace?” Helena smirked. “Are we talking about ballet or fighting?”

Dinah laughed easily. “My first sensei would say they were the same thing.”

“Wow, how many senseis and trainers have you had?” Helena teased. She immediately regretted it when Dinah visibly tensed, her expression abruptly becoming guarded.

“I was fostered at a dojo for a little while when I was a kid,” she explained haltingly, her brown eyes darting off to the side. “And uh, then I was in a group home until I was eighteen and they… let me keep taking karate to give me some, uh, stability I guess.”

Helena’s eyes widened at this revelation, delivered so candidly in passing on the sidewalk—that she’d grown up in foster care; that she was an orphan. She could feel Dinah’s uneasiness, and it inspired a desperate need to comfort or reassure her, a wholly unfamiliar impulse.

“My dad sent me to a Swiss boarding school when I was twelve,” Helena blurted out. “After my mom died. It was kind of like a group home just with, you know, rich kids and archery. And a castle.”

As the words came tumbling out of her mouth, she knew she was being horribly rude by being so flippant about her privilege, but it seemed to lighten Dinah’s mood, her kind smile blooming again.

“Well, just because there was archery doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to be away from everything you knew,” she said, meeting Helena’s eye meaningfully.

She understood loneliness, Helena realized. She understood the pain and anger of abandonment. Yet she didn’t carry bitterness around in the same way Helena did; bitterness that didn’t taste as bad when Dinah was standing here proving there was a way beyond it. It gave Helena hope—something she wasn’t well acquainted with after repeated tragedies.

A squat city bus puttered past behind them, catching Dinah’s eye. She glanced at Helena apologetically, a sliver of vulnerability slipping into her otherwise confident counternence.

“Maybe I’ll try Krav Maga sometime,” she offered, almost shyly.

“Maybe we could get coffee afterward,” Helena suggested, beaming.

They exchanged numbers before Dinah ran to catch the bus.

***

A week later, they kicked the shit out of each other at the studio and went for coffee. Helena had expected Dinah to pick up the Krav Maga moves quickly since she was well-versed in Karate and Jiu Jitsu. She even indulged in a stupid fantasy about helping her find the right techniques and positions, a blatant ploy to be physically closer to her.

But when they began sparing, Helena quickly realized she was wildly outmatched. Dinah did not need her help—she already knew Krav Maga even if she hadn’t quite mastered it. Then the minute Helena got the upper hand, Dinah gave up on the prescribed moves the instructor gave them, and took Helena down with a few quick karate strikes she couldn’t counter effectively.

Helena’s back hit the mat hard, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes widening as Dinah pinned her down with a steady hand flat over her heart, the heel of her small hand grazing the top of Helena’s breast through her sports bra.

Dinah released her and sat back, looking smug.

“You cheated!” Helena laughed, accepting a hand to pull herself up to sitting.

“What’s the point of fighting if you aren’t going to win?” Dinah shot her a knowing smirk.

“What happened to grace?” Helena demanded, her eyebrows raising when Dinah faltered but quickly recovered.

“You’re right,” she agreed, her face softening like she’d come to some internal revelation. “It’s not about winning. It’s about the practice, and finding balance.”

“Alright, sensei,” Helena rolled her eyes but she couldn’t stop smiling—another unfamiliar impulse. “You can buy me a coffee to make up for cheating.”

“It’s called mixed martial arts for a reason,” Dinah insisted as they headed for the changing rooms. “I was just mixing in more martial arts”

“Yeah, yeah.”

***

For the rest of the semester they trained and went for coffee at least once a week. They would tell each other which parties they were going to, what events their friends were discussing attending. It went unsaid that they were leaving breadcrumbs for each other, a trail that would lead them back together.

Their social lives began to blend. Helena became friendly with Dinah’s carefully cultivated group of scholastic overachievers and misfits. Meanwhile, the gang of loud, kittenish gay men Helena surrounded herself with fawned over Dinah. They showed her how to do her make-up properly and cheered when she paraded around the dorm in high heels for them like a clumsy newborn colt.

“She is gorgeous,” one of Helena’s friends hissed to her.

But it never went any further than a lingering touch or look as Helena restrained herself from making the first move, but not because she feared rejection. She’d taken a gap year after boarding school, a boozy thirteen months during which she’d travelled across Southeast Asia—Vietnam, Cambodia,Thailand, Bali, Singapore—and then on to Australia. The youthful hedonism that characterized backpacking made it easy not to be shy or ashamed of her attraction to both boys and girls. But she resisted making the first move with Dinah— she wanted Dinah to come to her.

***

Helena stayed at Princeton over the holidays, just like she’d done throughout boarding school. The only place she could feasibly go was Gotham to be with her younger brother, Pino. He was seventeen, and Helena had just enough contact to suspect he was already involved in the ‘family business,’ which she tried not to think about. They mostly kept in touch via Snapchat and Instagram, a selfie and meme-based relationship that removed the painful edges of reality.

Dinah returned to Gotham for Christmas to visit another member of the orphanage she’d grown up in. She wanted to see how they were getting on without her, she said, though she wasn’t looking forward to being back in the city.

But something obviously went wrong while she was away, because once they were back at school she began determinedly avoiding Helena. She made excuses about being busy with classes and other friends needing her attention. Weeks went by and Helena started to feel crazy, like she was missing something obvious, which meant she was either blind or too stupid to be able to see what was happening.

Then out of the blue Dinah showed up at Helena’s dorm, her hair freshly cut in a cute, girlish bob that brushed the collar of her cornflower blue coat, her tawny eyes glowing determinedly.

“Helena,” she breathed, searching Helena’s face. “Will you go out with me?”

***

They went out for dinner, something Helena had never done with a girl before. She’d slept with women, but she struggled with the idea of going on a date with a woman. She was disappointed in herself, that she hadn't evolved beyond worrying about the perception of others when she knew what she wanted.

But those worries were relegated to background noise when Dinah showed up on her doorstep, wearing a candy-apple-red shade of lipstick that suited her perfectly.

“Hey,” she greeted Helena, her smile radiant. Excited.

***

After dinner, Helena walked Dinah back to her dorm. When the moment she’d been waiting months for finally arrived, Dinah tucked a loose piece of Helena’s hair behind her ear, then tentatively laid her palm across the curve of her jaw. Her eyes fell shut as she drew Helena's mouth down to hers.

Her lips were eager and curious, but clumsy. Helena paused to draw back, the thick fringe of her eyelashes brushing Dinah’s nose as she opened her eyes. Dinah’s hand was still resting on her cheek, while Helena’s hands had found Dinah’s waist. Her eyes were heavy and her lips parted, the red lipstick faded.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Helena said slowly. “But... have you ever kissed someone before?”

Dinah’s face split into a rueful grin, without a trace of shame. “I have now,” she pointed out playfully.

Helena mirrored her grin and gave Dinah’s waist a gentle tug, pulling her closer as their lips met again.

***

They went on more dates, and eventually they found their way into each other’s beds. They got to know each other’s bodies, bringing them closer in a way Helena hadn’t realized was possible. She’d only experienced sex as a blurry, rushed encounter, but with Dinah she was overwhelmed, drunk on how badly she wanted her.

Their friend groups continued to cross pollinate with the queer communities on campus, and they slowly began to build a chosen family together since neither of them had one of their own. Helena was thrilled to see Dinah slowly shed the armour she’d built to protect herself, becoming more open and accepting of her own feelings and desires. But Helena found it harder, in part because she was lying to Dinah by not telling her the full truth of her past.

Her family and their ‘business’ was a dark, shameful secret she had never told another person, and she couldn’t decide how Dinah, with her strong moral compass, would react. It was like an invisible blockade between them, one Helena knew could destroy the delicate fabric of their blossoming relationship if she didn’t resolve it.

About four months after their first official date, it became impossible to keep it inside any longer, especially because the words “I love you” were constantly threatening to spill past her lips. It was only when she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer that she found the courage.

“You can tell me anything, Helena,” Dinah insisted, holding Helena’s hands between hers. They were sitting on a blanket on the quad, the sun shining bright overhead as the first vestiges of spring bloomed around them.

Helena felt physically sick. She’d imagined every way this conversation could go, and she usually settled on Dinah being horrified once she learned the terrible, violent truth.

“It’s about…” she swallowed thickly. “My family. I haven’t been… completely honest with you. My dad. He wasn’t really a businessman. Not in the traditional sense.”

Dinah’s eyebrows raised, but she gave Helena’s hands a reassuring squeeze.

After a few false starts, Helena explained that her family wasn’t like other families. That her father and his brothers and generations of Bertinelli men before them hadn’t had… normal jobs. They were criminals. Successful, powerful criminals whose influence manipulated the very fabric of Gotham society.

Dinah listened, her expression becoming more and more guarded as Helena ploughed ahead. She could see what she was thinking. That Helena’s family was partially responsible for the corruption and crime that plagued Gotham. That the city was a shithole because of men like her father. It was all true, or at least it used to be, before the masked freaks took over and made everything worse.

She explained that a man named Mandragora tried to usurp her father when she was twelve, killing her mother, aunts and uncles, cousins and family friends in a blood feud. She was shipped off to Europe for safe keeping while her brother Pino, just 9 years old at the time, was sent to live with extended family in Central City. Ultimately her father’s associates and friends ran Mandragora out of town, but not before the damage was done. Helena remained in Switzerland, and Pino returned to Gotham, where he was raised by what extended members of the Bertinelli clan.

There was one more piece of information Helena couldn’t bring herself to share, because just thinking about what happened to her father made her blood boil—anger frequently outstripped grief when she thought about what Harley Quinn did to her Papa.

She hunted him. Tortured him. Murdered him.

But she couldn’t say the words. Mobsters were bad enough. Harley Quinn was an entirely different kind of villain, one Helena didn’t want her family — who she loved deeply despite their flaws —associated with if she could help it.

By the time she’d finished, Dinah had taken to playing with an errant daisy springing up from the grass, her attention wholly focused on the little white flower as she worked through her thoughts. When she finally looked up at Helena, she was cautious, still uncertain, but eventually her lips curved into a smile—kind, open, generous, and reassuring.

“I have to tell you something too,” she shrugged helplessly. “I love you, Helena... and you aren’t responsible for the choices your family made. You still loved them and lost them and I know how much that hurt you.”

Helena’s eyes widened, shocked that Dinah was speaking these words to Helena. For Helena.

“I—“ she faltered, searching Dinah’s face. “I love you too.” She sprung up to her knees and pitched forward, grabbing Dinah’s face with both hands and making her shriek with laughter as they fell back on the grass together. “God, I really really love you, Di.”

Dinah laughed again, her eyes closing as Helena urgently kissed her. She felt as if she’d never be able to properly express how much she felt. This was the polar opposite of the grief and anger that plagued her. This was the beginning of something beautiful and powerful and safe.

Dinah would save her from the darkness, she decided.

She was the only one who could.

***

A/N: I know you’re all here for Jarley, but in the same way I wanted you to love Ed, I’m hoping you’ll simp for this ship. I loved writing Dinah through the eyes of someone who sees the best in her since she’s been pretty limited to her own self-punishing point of view and Harley’s warped vision of the world. And it’s a relief to see Dinah begin to grow up now that she’s around people her own age she relates to… Even wearing lipstick is like an indulgent act for her that she’s finally allowing herself to take part in. Yes, Dinah! You deserve love and lipstick and self care! ❤️🎉

[julemmaes]

What The

Prompt sent by @sayosdreams: Ezra goes on his first date

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: definitely not what I had planned for this prompt, but I’m not sad nor surprised. Ezra is 16, almost 17, Andra is 6 and the others don’t appear. But we’re introduced to Dara (MorxAndromache’s son) who is 16, Nia (AmrenxVarian’s daughter) who is 15, and Chelo (EmeriexAzriel’s second daughter) who is 6 and Fabien (FeyrexRhysand’s second son) who is 7 are mentioned.

Fic masterlist

Word count: 6,692

Ezra didn't know he could be so embarrassed for someone else. And so scared for his own personal safety.

When Nia and Dara had told him they'd found him someone to go out with, he'd never expected the guy in question to be...well, like this.

Daniel was peculiar.

When he'd seen him arrive at the bus stop where they'd arranged to meet, Ezra had immediately felt a creepy feeling of unease, which had only increased out of all proportion when the boy whose last name he didn't even know yet had hugged him like his grandmother did every time they visited.

Ezra had stood motionless with his eyebrows pinned to his hairline for a full minute while the other one formally introduced himself, reaching out a hand toward him. He'd seen her nails polished a cheerful pastel blue and had smiled, trying to quell that wrong feeling in the back of his mind, "I like your nails."

Daniel had chuckled disturbingly - the sound still etched in Ezra's mind - and then made a very serious face, "It's to let others know I'm so gay."

The Navarro boy hadn't commented, not wanting to make an immediate bad impression with his date, but he'd found at least five ways to retort to that immense bullshit.

Daniel had linked their arms together and told him he'd take him to his favorite spot, and Ezra had been hesitant with all that physical touch. Not because he wasn't used to having someone around all the time touching him in one way or another, but because Daniel seemed like the kind of person who had no idea what boundaries were and he wasn't keen on being kissed out of the blue.

"So, what are you?" he had suddenly asked him.

Ezra had arched an eyebrow, confused, "What am I?"

"Yes, what are you silly," the other had chuckled. Silly? What the- "Gay, bi, pan?" Ezra had been dumbfounded, and he was sure that if Daniel hadn't been dragging him along, he would have gotten stuck in the middle of the sidewalk. He'd blinked a few times, trying to figure out why someone would ask such a thing for no apparent reason. When he'd still been silent, looking for an answer that wouldn't make him look like a complete idiot, Daniel had asked him again, giving him a light shove.

Erza had looked at him at that point, his expression somewhere between surprised and furious, "I don't know yet, I'm trying to figure it out."

"Oh, poor thing, I'm sure you'll understand after tonight." and again that creepy giggle, "I'll make sure this date makes you realize you're completely gay."

He hadn't told anyone he was going on a date that night, only his two best friends, and in that moment he couldn't have regretted his decision more.

He'd made up an excuse for his parents and Cassian and Nesta were now home chilling, probably doing what they did every Saturday night when they somehow managed to get rid of their kids, but Ezra just wanted to call his mom and get the hell out of that fast food.

He made a disgusted grimace, moving a chip with a handkerchief, too afraid that he would catch some kind of disease if he actually touched that food, when something under the table caught his attention. He opened his eyes wide when he realized it was a cockroach and had to suppress a gag.

"Are you okay, Ezzy?" Daniel asked him in a squeaky voice - Danny, as he'd asked him to call him when they'd arrived at the venue, "You look a little pale."

Ezra looked up at the boy, unsure whether to tell him for the tenth time that he hated that stupid nickname he'd stuck on him almost an hour ago or to let it go and try to enjoy the rest of the evening. Staring at the individual in front of him for a second too long, he gave him the most fake smile he could muster, replying simply, "Everything's fine." even if it was anything but fine. He certainly couldn't tell him that he never wanted to hear another word come out of his mouth, or that the place creeped him out so much that he was sure he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life. Or that the group of guys sitting at the table next to them looked at them so wrong every time he used the word gay that he wouldn't be surprised if they ended the night running away from them.

He'd done so many little things to make him uncomfortable that Ezra was wondering if he wasn't doing it on purpose, if he was on some kind of candid camera and if his friends would be coming out of the kitchen any minute, laughing at his misfortunes.

"That's good." resumed Daniel, then took a bite of his sandwich and some sauce, which should have been any other color but the one it was, fell on the table, "Anyway, back to what we were talking about before."

Ezra winced, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in the awful smell of dirty water that hovered around the place. He didn't want to go back to the conversation from before. He wanted to run away.

"The first time I came out was when I was eight years old and everyone called me names, like I was telling you." Daniel nodded, continuing to chew with his mouth open, and Ezra could only avoid looking at him for a short time before the boy demanded they make eye contact. He'd explicitly asked him several times.

"Oh and then of course the first Gay Pride I went to was only a few years ago, because you know, they don't do any in Velaris and never will, duh." the boy said making an x with his fingers as he shook his head. Ezra chuckled at that gesture, more out of desperation than anything else, and Daniel seemed to take it as an invitation to continue, because he launched into a detailed description of his first time having "gay sex" with someone.

He shut his brain down, planting a tugged smile on his lips and hoping the torture would end soon.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out as Daniel said, "I kissed someone for the first time when I was ten, a boy of course." He jumped from topic to topic with such ease that Ezra struggled to keep up with him and was a little grateful for that.

It was a text from Nia asking him how the date was going and that she and Dara were at the latter's house, waiting for him to ask to pick him up. He typed a reply quickly, offending her in every way possible for putting him in such a situation and begging her to come as soon as possible. He turned off the screen, putting his phone back in his pocket and then leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow as his brain perceived the words "blood" and "anal."

A not at all pleasant sensation began to blossom at the pit of his stomach.

He breathed through his nose deeply and regretted it soon after. If he hadn't ended up throwing up that night or dying, he would have given himself a weekend at a spa with the full package, sauna and all that crap and he would have forced Nia to pay for it. It was his friend's fault that he was now in this pathetic situation.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts and completely externalize himself from the outside world - something he'd learned to do on long trips to Illyria when his siblings decided to have a tantrum all at once. When Daniel didn't stop for another ten minutes and Ezra vaguely heard the word orgasm, he stood up abruptly, bringing his hands close to his ears in case he didn't stop talking.

Daniel brought one hand to his mouth and the other to his chest, startled by that sudden outburst from him.

"Ezzy..." he murmured, "what's wrong?"

Ezra clenched his hands into fists, closing his eyes. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was intensifying more and more, "Stop calling me that, please." then he stared into his eyes, leaning forward, "I asked you to stop two hours ago. Two hours."

Daniel stared at him open-mouthed, some chewed food was visible and Ezra was forced to turn away, trying to erase the image from his mind, but he heard it anyway when he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Ezra huffed out a laugh and the group of older boys, who had been watching them since they entered the fast food restaurant, stared at him with somber expressions, then shifted their gazes to Daniel. He brought his attention back to Daniel in turn and said in a low voice so that no one would hear him, "I'm sorry to have to tell you like this, but there won't be a second date and this one ends here."

He didn't even wait to see Daniel's reaction, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He shivered in the cold of the city and looked around, lost. He had no idea where he was. He didn't know what part of town that fast food was in, and he couldn't understand how Nia knew the place existed. He walked down the main street, hoping to find something - a store, a bus stop, anything - that would help him figure out where he was.

He had just finished slipping on his jacket when he felt a hand tighten around his wrist and pull hard enough to make him stumble backwards. He didn't even realize he was falling until his back hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs so violently that it shocked him. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. Panic didn't have time to make its way through his body that someone was pulling him up by force.

Ezra kicked his feet in the air, looking around, unsure whether to scream for help and trying hard to free himself from the stranger's grasp, when he realized with horror that it was Daniel.

The all too cheerful and bright eyes that had characterized that basic little face until that moment, that had frightened but more than anything else bored Ezra to the point of exhaustion, now shone with a new emotion and he was petrified to realize that he looked like another person entirely. It was anger, pure rage in the boy's pupils.

"Daniel-" he tried to say to get him to let go.

Daniel was still clutching the front of his shirt and shook his head when he said his name, "I don't get it, what is it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side smiling, "You don't like to talk about me being gay because you haven't figured out what you are yet?"

What was wrong with this guy?

Ezra's eyes were wide and he couldn't speak. He was afraid Daniel would hit him.

After all, he didn't know him. He didn't know anything about the person in front of him other than the fact that the only trait in his personality was being gay. He hadn't been able to get anything personal out of him, nothing about what school he attended, nothing about his family, his hobbies.

A sheer, unmitigated terror made its way through his mind as he realized that Daniel could easily have been even much older than he said he was.

"Let me go." murmured Ezra, clasping his hands around his wrists. The only certainty he had at that moment was the fact that Daniel wouldn't be able to pull out any kind of sharp object to hurt him as long as he had his hands on Ezra.

Daniel wasn't that much bigger than him, he was a few inches shorter, but Ezra wasn't the kind of guy who would get into fights and win. No, he wasn't like his brother. He was more the type who got pushed into the fight and ended up with a broken nose because he didn't want to hurt the other guy.

The door to the fast food restaurant opened behind him and he tried hard to block out the shaking of his hands, of his lower lip. He couldn't take his eyes off Daniel's, too scared that if he even moved a finger, the other would snap.

"Everything okay out here?" someone asked, a deep, gravelly voice.

Daniel's eyes snapped over his shoulder and loosened their grip on his shirt. Ezra took the opportunity to push him away. Cursing, he fell backwards again, cushioning his fall with his hands and felt a sharp pain go up his arm. Hissing, he brought the limb to his chest, clutching it with his other hand.

Arms slipped under his shoulders, helping him pull himself up, "Here."

As soon as he was on his feet, Ezra took three steps back, moving away from both men in front of him.

He realized with no small amount of dread that the newcomer was one of the boys who had been watching them all evening. He cursed mentally this time, trying to think his way out of the fucked up situation.

How had he ended up there?

How had he ended up in the ugliest neighborhood in all of Velaris just because he wanted to go on a date?

Daniel was looking at the man now, much bigger and bulkier than the two of them combined, and Ezra heard a bicycle bell ring in the distance.

The heads of all three snapped toward the sound, but the only one who started running toward the two approaching figures was Ezra. He heard Daniel yell his name, but that only prompted him to run faster.

Nia was flailing around, swinging dangerously on her bike, and she didn't seem to notice the condition he was in, because she was smiling like a little girl on Christmas morning, but Dara was.

"Nia, come here." Ezra heard him say even at that distance. The girl must have heard something in her boyfriend's tone too, because she bolted beside him and got off her bike silently. Ezra continued to run at breakneck speed until he was in front of his best friends and got on the bike Nia had just left behind. He ordered them both to take off with short breaths and Dara to pedal as fast as he could before darting off down the road.

The boy in question waited until Nia was safely settled on the rack before turning the bike around and following Ezra down the half-lit street.

What the hell had just happened?

***

"I think we should call aunt Nesta," Nia said, with a grave expression.

Dara shook his head, reaching behind her and resting an arm on the back of the bench, starting to play with a strand of her hair, "She'll riot if she finds out what happened."

Nia looked at him frowning, "So you think we should handle it?"

Dara nodded, reducing his lips to a thin line.

"The us-handling-it ended with Ezra almost getting himself killed," she pointed out to him, "I think we've done enough for tonight."

"Speaking of," Ezra murmured. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, his eyes closed, convinced that if he opened them he'd start crying. "Where the fuck did you find someone like that?"

A shiver ran through his body and he didn't know if it was because of the memory of Daniel or because they insisted on spending their Saturday nights in the cold backyard of Dara's house.

Nia scratched the back of her neck, "A friend told me she had a friend who was busting her balls because he's been single for too long and he reminded me of someone." she gave him a pointed look and shrugged, "I didn't think he'd be a psycho."

Dara chuckled tiredly and Ezra lifted his head to look at him, "Why are you laughing, that was terrifying." he repeated for the billionth time. "I don't think I'll ever date again."

"Actually as a first date it kinda sucked," mumbled the girl yawning. Erza knew they were both dead tired and it wouldn't make any difference if he stayed over at his aunt Mor's or went back to his house, either way he would find himself alone in a bed. He might as well avoid a sleepless night because of Nia's snoring.

Truth be told, he would have preferred to be cuddled by his sisters, but he would never admit that out loud.

He opened and closed the fingers of his left hand, wincing every time the cut on his wrist joint moved.

Nia was watching him closely, "You should probably disinfect that."

Ezra huffed, closing his eyes and scratching his eyebrow, "I'll do it when I get home."

"Do you want me to call your mother?" she offered, understanding immediately. Dara nodded beside her.

He thought about it and then shook his head, getting up and picking up the phone, "If you call her she'll think I'm dead or something bad happened - which is true," he nodded, dialing Nesta's number, and bringing the device to his ear, "but she doesn't need to know over the phone."

She answered on the first third ring.

"Ezra? What's wrong?" she asked with bated breath.

The boy grimaced, immediately realizing he had interrupted something, and Dara burst out laughing. By now it was common knowledge what his parents did every Saturday night. Even Dara's moms had their Wednesdays after all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose, "but, is there any way you could pick me up?"

Nesta didn't answer right away, but Ezra clearly heard the shifting of the sheets and the uncertain movements on the other side of the line and his father asked worriedly, "What happened?"

"I don't know-" Nesta answered him in a muffled voice, then more clearly, "Ezra everything alright? Are you okay?" anxiety lacing her words.

Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Making his parents worry about things that could easily be avoided was perhaps the thing he hated most in the world.

Casting a quick glance at his friends, he replied, "You know what, nothing, nevermind, I'll stay here and be back in the morning, don't worry about it." he tried to fake a smile, even though his mother couldn't see it and Dara scoffed, standing up and nearly knocking over Nia who was leaning on his shoulder, "Pass it to me." he murmured.

Ezra pulled away, reaching an arm out to his friend to hold him back as Dara smiled and reached for his phone.

"Where are you now?" asked Nesta urgently. More frantic movement on the other end of the phone, "I've got you on speaker."

Ezra grunted when Dara jabbed a finger into his ribs, "At aunt Mor's." he let out a giggle when he escaped his friend and started running around the garden, "But don't worry, I'm here with Dara and Nia, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Love, you never called me to pick you up in sixteen years of living," the woman pointed out to him. She heard her father agree with her as he warned her that he would wait for her in the car, "Even if nothing happened, something has to have and I don't want to put unnecessary burdens on Mor or Em. We're on our way." Ezra was about to retort when the beep beep of the call being closed rumbled through the phone.

The boy huffed, stopping his run abruptly, and Dara slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. They burst out laughing as they pushed and pulled in a non-violent fight.

As they fell on top of each other, starting to tickle each other, Nia snickered from the porch, leaning against the railing, "How nice it is to have a boyfriend who has a boyfriend."

"You love us." both boys shouted, opening their eyes and mouths wide and looking at each other immediately after, "Aah, twins." they said again simultaneously. They burst out laughing and Nia ran a hand over her face, warning them that she was going into the house.

Dara stood up at that point, pushing Ezra away, but he helped him up anyway and they silently joined her, trying not to wake Mor and Emerie who were resting on the couch undisturbed. His friend asked him to warn his mother not to ring the bell, so that she wouldn't wake up his moms, and Ezra smiled and nodded.

Dara was the only child of aunts Mor and Em. He was only a few months younger than Ezra, but had been adopted when he was already two years old. Of course, none of the three could remember a day without the other two, and although Dara and Nia had been together for a few months now - after years and years of banter - the dynamics of the group had never changed.

Although Nia had become a little more possessive now where Dara was concerned, it was never really about jealousy. Ezra was just scared when she took on that stern expression that also characterized her mother Amren and threatened him with death when he accidentally hurt Dara during one of their friendly fights.

They entered the bedroom and Nia was already sprawled out on the mattress like a starfish. A soft snoring sounded in the room and Ezra shook his head, "How is she already asleep?"

Dara didn't answer him, but smiled slightly, looking at the shapeless mass of hair that hid the girl's face. He walked over to the bed, grabbing a blanket from the chair and trying to cover her entirely, but from the position she was in, an arm or leg would always be exposed to the chill air.

Ezra felt his heart tighten in his chest, "You're lucky." he whispered.

Dara snorted, looking up at him with a curled brow, "Don't go soft on me, you know we'll both start crying then." then he turned back to Nia, moving her hair out of her face, "It's also after eleven, if we start talking about this stuff I could seriously cry." an even wider smile made its way onto his lips and a twin one appeared on Ezra's. Plus, if Nia woke up with both of them crying, she wasn't going to let them live it down.

Dara and Nia had come before Cal and Nora, before Nate, Theo, and everyone else. Ezra didn't know what it would be like without them, and he never wanted to find out.

"You know, though, yeah," Dara whispered once they had settled into the bean bag chairs, "we're lucky."

Ezra looked into his eyes, yawning, "Do you think my mom will let me go to sleep without an interrogation?"

Dara grinned, "Are we talking about the same Nesta who kept us up an entire night just because she kept losing at UNO?" he reminded him of that deadly night a few years earlier, "Because I'm sure that a person who is willing to keep three whining babies awake just to win at a stupid game isn't going to let something that relevant go until they get their revenge."

Ezra groaned, closing his eyes, "I don't even know how to approach the subject."

"What part?" Dara then asked, watching him closely, "That you also like boys or that one guy almost smashed your face."

"Not helping." he deadpanned.

"No, but seriously," he pulled his legs up, crossing them underneath him, "I know your whole-" he moved a hand in midair, pointing to Ezra's head, "thinking and I don't want to make you more anxious than you need to be, but what if they don't react like you always thought they would?"

Ezra had thought about this countless times, about how his parents might react to such an admission, but the outcome had never bothered him much. He didn't really conceive the concept of coming out when you were growing up in a family like his. He didn't like the idea of having to specify to his parents that one day he might bring home someone who wasn't a woman.

One of his father's closest friends was a lesbian and her son was sitting across from him. If his parents had any objections to that, they would certainly have told him or talked about it.

He was sure it wouldn't have sparked any reaction in his parents.

"It'll be fine." said Ezra only.

"Definitely." Dara dropped his head back, "So how do you plan to introduce the I-went-out-with-a-crazy-man instead?"

Ezra shook his head, "I don't?"

"I'm serious." the other replied, closing his eyes.

"So am I."

They remained silent, Dara surely having realized Ezra didn't want to talk about Daniel anymore.

"What are you planning on doing for Valentine's Day?" he asked suddenly.

Dara chuckled, "I have a girlfriend now man, we can't go out anymore, you and I."

"You dumbass," Ezra insulted him, "I meant with Nia. Where are you taking her?"

Dara pulled himself up, stretching his arms overhead. The boy couldn't sit still for half a minute. "Actually I think she wants to take me somewhere and I'll let her," he nodded thoughtfully, "Although I'm kind of terrified she's going to take me into the woods and kill me, I'm going to activate the location on my phone so you'll always know where I am."

Ezra didn't laugh, he just nodded. The phone vibrated in his hand and his stomach twisted again.

"We're out." the message from his mother read.

He looked up at Dara and found his friend watching him, who gave him an encouraging smile.

They bid each other goonight with their secret handshake and then Ezra walked out of the room just as Dara lifted Nia and tucked her under the covers, laying down next to her.

***

"Are you going to tell us what's going on or are we going to have to guess?" asked Cassian looking over his shoulder once he was in the car.

They were already halfway home and Ezra had only said hello to them, in a very controlled tone of voice, but his mother had tossed back in her seat and stared into his eyes for what had seemed like hours before shifting her gaze to her husband and saying, "Yeah, something happened."

She had watched him for so long that he couldn't understand how she hadn't seen the bloodstain on his sweatshirt. He pulled up the zipper on his jacket, already thinking about how he could remove the stain from the fabric.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he tried to ask. He was looking out the window, but he could feel both his parents' eyes on him.

"Can you sleep if you don't talk about it, or are you going to be up all night?" asked Cassian again, "Because if it's the latter, I'd rather talk about it now."

Ezra closed his eyes, thinking about what to answer. "Is Andra home?" he asked softly.

Nesta nodded, "She's been asleep for a couple of hours though. She's been playing all day with Fabien and Chelo and was dead tired." she said in a chipper tone, "How come?"

"I'm taking her to my room." he replied only.

His mother turned to him again, this time with a lopsided smile on her face, "It's not like she's a dog."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled back, "but at least I'll sleep better."

"Alright, we'll talk about it tomorrow though," Nesta told him. He merely nodded.

Not even two minutes passed and Cassian asked, "Did you have a fight with Dara?"

Ezra nearly burst out laughing, "No, Dad."

"With Nia?"

"Cass." his mom admonished him.

The man turned to her with a mock confused expression, "What?"

"He told us he'd talk about it tomorrow, stop it."

Cassian huffed, "Fine."

As soon as they arrived home, Ezra said goodnight to both of them and went straight to his room. He slipped off his jacket and got into his pajama pants, grabbing his shirt and heading to the bathroom to try and clean his sweatshirt as best he could.

He remained shirtless as he searched the drawers for cotton wool and wound sanitizer. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as he spilled some of the liquid on his cut. It wasn't too long or deep, but it had bled him quite a bit, especially considering he hadn't stopped moving his hand half a second, preventing the skin from healing.

He'd definitely done it to himself when he got free of Daniel, but he hadn't realized he'd hurt himself that badly until he'd gotten to Dara's house and Nia had seen the red stain on his sweatshirt. He cleaned the cut from the dried blood, changing cotton balls after the first one had turned completely red.

He turned on the water, running his entire forearm under it, when the bathroom door opened and his mother's head popped into view. At any other time he would have told her that she had to knock before entering their bathroom, that he might be naked, but upon seeing the color drain from her face, he remained silent.

He turned off the faucet, cupping his hand over his wrist as Nesta entered the bathroom and stared in pure terror at the cotton wool and blood on the sink. He hadn't seen his mother so scared since the day he'd broken his arm.

"Mom..." whispered Ezra, stepping forward, toward her.

"What happened?" she asked bringing a hand to her throat. Then she looked into his eyes, "Did you do it yourself?"

Ezra frowned, confused. Then the shock of what his mother's newly spoken words implied hit him and he shook his head, wincing. "No, god- no mom. I-"

Nesta moved until she was in front of him and gently took his arm, moving his hand from his wrist until she saw the cut and sighed. Whether in relief or otherwise, Ezra didn't know.

"You need to tell me what's going on, and no, you can't go to bed without telling me what you did tonight first," she murmured to him, without looking at his face. She had taken another piece of cotton and was dabbing at his wrist with the gentleness that only a mother with her children could have, checking for soil residue or anything else.

"Nesta?"

Ezra winced when he heard his father's voice calling to her.

Mom looked him in the eye, tossing the wadded up bits, "If you promise me that as soon as you get out of here you'll come talk to us, I'll go out now and let you get ready for the night in peace." she told him.

She was looking at him with so much emotion that Ezra regretted even thinking about lying to her and telling her he just fell off his bike. Besides, if it had been about something so stupid, he would have told her right away and she knew it. So, lowering his gaze to the floor, he nodded, "I promise."

Stepping out, she picked up the clothes Ezra had left on the floor and then he was alone again. He brushed his teeth, thinking about how to deal with this. He grabbed a band-aid from Celia's locker - she used more than anyone else put together because of soccer - and then slipped on his pajama shirt, leaving the bathroom and heading for his parents' room. Halfway down the hallway he turned around and stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his room. He closed his eyes, smacking his forehead against the wood, "Let's do this."

He didn't have time to knock that his parents' door opened and Cassian looked at him differently than he always did, looked at him like he was trying to read his mind. Ezra felt himself blush for the first time in a long time and shifted his gaze to his mother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.

Ezra slipped into the room, sitting down at the end of the bed. Nesta settled against the bedpost and Cassian sat down, facing the wall. He couldn't see his father's face, but he sensed his concern as waves radiated from his body.

"I had a date tonight." mumbled Ezra playing with the blanket, but keeping his eyes on his mother.

Nesta opened her mouth slightly wide in surprise, then closed it again, composing herself, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"How did it go?" asked Cassian, turning to face him.

Ezra scratched his head, "Bad."

"I'm sorry." his mother told him with as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. Then she cast a quick glance at his dad and Ezra took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. "How did it get so bad?"

"The other one wasn't exactly sane," he said, brushing the patch with his fingers.

Cassian stiffened and flexed his fingers several times, "Did she do anything to you?"

Ezra felt his heart start to beat a little faster, "He was-" then he stopped, looking at his parents. Neither Nesta nor Cassian seemed the least bit touched by what he'd just said. "He was peculiar."

They waited for him to speak, giving him time to process.

"He immediately started touching me and normally-"

His father interrupted him, "Touching you?" he asked in a low voice.

Ezra had never heard that tone of voice before. He had never seen Cassian's eyes grow so dark, his jaw so taut. Everything in the man's body screamed anger. His mother had pulled herself up straighter and extended a hand toward her husband, as if she needed physical support to deal with such a conversation.

He was quick to specify, "Hugs, he was always trying to find a way to touch my hands, my face, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but it was the first time I'd seen him and god, I don't even know his fucking last name." he didn't bother not to say the bad word. He knew his mother didn't care right then and he needed to vent. Cassian nodded and while Nesta seemed to have relaxed a bit, his father hadn't lost that feeling of hatred that was rippling across his face.

"He talked the whole time about things purely related to the fact that he was gay and he went into detail." he said with wide eyes, "And he demanded that we look at each other while he talked and that made me uncomfortable in no small part and the place he took me to." he shuddered, "It looked like something out of one of those TV shows that Celia always watches about houses full of trash."

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, with a worried gaze, "Why didn't you call me? I would have come right away."

Ezra looked at her, shaking his head, "I thought about it, but I had arranged with Nia and Dara that they would pick me up with their bikes and I texted Nia and-"

He paused to catch his breath.

"As soon as he said the word orgasm I got up and told him I didn't want to see him anymore and left."

Cassian nodded, "You did the right thing." he told him resting a hand on his ankle, "With these people you never know what can happen-"

Nesta interrupted him, "How did you get the cut?"

His dad frowned and turned to her, but Nesta was just watching Ezra as she bit her lip, growing more and more agitated.

He closed his eyes, sighing, "I fell."

"Yeah, but how?"

He remained silent, trying to find a way to tell the story from the beginning without his parents losing years of their lives before he could finish telling.

"Ezra." his father murmured, tightening his grip on his ankle.

He took a deep breath and tried to say it all at once before they could interrupt him, fixing his eyes on the seams of his pajamas, "He followed me outside and grabbed my arm, but I fell backwards. He grabbed me by my jacket and when I managed to get free again I must have fallen on a rock or something sharp because I hurt my hand." his voice was shaking at the end of the sentence and he hadn't realized how striking it had actually been for him. "Some guy came out of the fast food restaurant and distracted Daniel and I ran. I found Nia and Dara on their bikes and we rode home." then he wrinkled his brow, "I've already blocked his number and his every social account." he added under his breath. When he looked up at his parents, he felt tremendous guilt. Nesta had a hand over her mouth and her eyes slightly glazed over. He could see all kinds of emotions battling there: anger, apprehension, panic, worry. He could see how much it was costing her not to leave that house and go find Daniel on her own.

Cassian had sprung to his feet and was now pacing back and forth between the closet and the bathroom, hands crossed behind his head as he took deep breaths.

Ezra didn't know what to do. They had broached the subject of relationships many times before, there was no reason why they should have to explain to him why everything that had happened was wrong and that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't his fault. He knew.

"Are you okay?" his mom asked him.

He nodded, "I didn't want to tell you tonight because we're all tired, tomorrow morning would have been better." then he shifted his gaze to his dad, "I'm sorry, dad."

Cassian froze, letting go of a trembling breath as he shook his head. He sat down next to his son, wrapping his arms around him and holding him to his chest. Ezra melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around him in turn.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he murmured to him. He pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. Then he shook his head again, "I'm sorry you didn't tell us about the date and I'd appreciate it if in the future you would."

"Yeah," Nesta indulged him, moving around on the mattress until she was next to them and could place a hand on his face, "we don't care who you go out with, but at least know where you're going so that if something happens we know where to come get you."

Ezra nodded.

Then Nesta opened her arms and he released herself from his father's grasp to find comfort in his mom's.

"I'm sorry, love." she whispered to him.

Ezra shrugged, saying in a muffled voice, "Don't worry, I'm fine."

And he was indeed fine.

He felt his father's hand caressing his back and they stayed there for a while longer, while Nesta and Cassian exchanged a look full of emotions and worries, but also of relief because the evening could have ended in a completely different way.

It wasn't until the next day that they would ask him if he wanted to press charges and how it would all play out should he decide to continue, only after they had talked about it a whole night between the two of them.

In the meantime, Ezra would come out of their room after saying goodnight to them for the second time and crawl into Andra's bed, where the little sister would immediately attach herself like an octopus to his neck and where they would fall asleep peacefully hugging.

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[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 81 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Sutan and Violet skipped out on their party plans, Bianca’s friends deeply disapproved of her new relationship, Adore struggled to get over Pearl, and Alaska harbored a secret unrequited crush on her best friend Jinkx.

This Chapter: New Year’s Eve continues, full of love and betrayal.

***

“Well? What do you think?” Bianca asked, when Courtney stepped away to greet Alaska. Her voice was low, and she was trying extremely hard to appear casual, but Jinkx could see the anxiousness in her eyes.

Jinkx grinned. It wasn’t very often that she had any kind of leg up on Bianca Del Rio, and she was prepared to milk it.

“Hmmm…”

“Come on!”

“I think she’s incredible. Gorgeous, charming, and she clearly has good taste-” Jinkx batted her lashes, framing her face with her hand, in an obvious reference to Courtney gushing all over her about what a big fan she was. Then, she gave Bianca a once-over. “Well, good taste about some things.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bianca grumbled, bumping Jinkx with her hip, suddenly looking more like herself than she had all night.

Jinkx laughed, feeling quite pleased with herself. The truth was, Courtney was everything she’d been expecting, based on what Alaska had told her: vibrant, fun, bursting with warmth and positive energy. The only surprising thing so far was Bianca. She’d known her for almost twenty years, and hadn’t ever seen her so sparkly-eyed and doting. This relationship was clearly making her happy, giving her a new kind of brightness, and that was lovely to see.

“No, but seriously,” Jinkx continued, linking her arm through Bianca’s. “I think you guys make a great couple. Sugar Mama is a good look for you.”

“I...” Bianca opened her mouth, at first looking like she was about to protest that characterization, but then seemed to think better of it, her lips twisting into a smirk. “Yeah, well…”

Jinkx laughed, watching as Courtney gave Alaska a hug and skipped back to them, arms immediately winding around Bianca’s waist, eyes shining with love as she gazed up at her. Bianca whispered something into her ear, too soft for Jinkx to hear, before kissing her gently.

It was all disgustingly cute, Jinkx noted, nose wrinkling just slightly.

***

Raja held Raven’s hand as they slowly moved through the Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec exhibition at MoMA, the evening's guests all holding little glasses of champagne, the low tone of constant chatter all around them.

The dinner had been lovely, Raven taking obvious delight in the decadence of it all, but Raja had to admit that she missed her brother, Sutan’s absence on New Years like a little hole in her heart.

She knew he was sick, knew that it made sense that he was spending the evening at home with Violet, but Raja couldn’t help but feel forgotten.

Sutan had confided in her that he told Violet he loved her, and Raja wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t, because Sutan and Violet had only been together for about 6 months, and she had been his best friend since before they were born, their history spanning literal decades compared to Violet’s months.

In all honesty, Raja had been wavering about whether or not she wanted Violet to come along for Aspen, Kahmora a complete disaster when she had joined them. After the ‘love’ reveal though, she was happy for the opportunity to spend a few days with her brother’s girlfriend, and figure out her exact motivation for being with him, to scratch deeper and see what was hiding underneath that polite surface.

“Ooh” Fame turned around, a smile on her lip. She was wearing all white and looked positively radiant, her hand on Patrick’s elbow. “What about this one?” She pointed at one of the pieces, a group of women all standing together. “Don’t you think that would look fetching in the master bathroom?”

“Well,” Patrick looked at the painting, his other hand in his suit pocket. “Where else would you put a late 19th-century avant-garde?”

“Oh please,” Fame slapped Patrick’s arm, and Raja had to quickly take a sip of her drink, hiding her smile. “It’d be a print. You can’t hang actual art anywhere near a shower. Don’t play smart.”

“Of course, love.”

Raja had to admit that she loved how much Patrick adored needling Fame, giving her small pushes towards the edge a game they often played together, since Fame was so easy to toy with. If it had been anyone else, Raja would have stepped in to stop them, but with Patrick, she knew that he’d always be there to help put everything back together.

“I like that one-” Raven pointed to a large painting of a woman in a low cut blue dress, brown curls spilling down, two other women at her side.

“You would,” Raja pressed her lips against Raven’s temple, lowering her voice to a growl, the woman in the painting basically showing off her breasts, “wouldn’t you, you dirty girl.”

“Raj!” Raven gasped, slapping her chest before giggling.

***

Dahlia smoothed down her scarlet-colored velvet gown, surveying the club with a smile. She would never have admitted it, but when Pearl invited her to this party just yesterday, she’d immediately gone out and splurged on a new dress--and she was glad she had, because she looked like a million bucks. The top was draped, held up alluringly by delicate straps that threatened to slip down her shoulders at any moment, the waist fit her like a glove, and the slit showed off her long legs to perfection. She tossed her glossy dark hair over her shoulder, loving the many pairs of eyes that were so obviously drawn towards her.

“Can I get you a drink?” Pearl asked, voice low and sexy in her ear.

They’d started their own party earlier, pre-gaming and fooling around in Pearl’s apartment as they got ready. Dahlia had been in the middle of straightening her hair when Pearl’s fingers slid up her thighs, which nearly caused her to burn her ear. At this point, they were each about five (or so, they hadn’t really counted) drinks in and fully ready to have the night of their lives.

“Sure.”

“What do you want?” Peal asked, lips grazing her neck.

“Surprise me,” Dahlia said, biting back a whimper. She turned to Pearl, cupping her cheek and saying, “I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

She continued to feel her fantasy as she walked across the dance floor to the restrooms, humming slightly to herself as she stepped up to a sink, hips swaying as she washed her hands. She was just about to reach for a paper towel when she glimpsed a figure in the mirror behind her, coming out of a stall.

Adore.

Dahlia felt her heart sink. What on earth was Adore doing here, looking at her with that hurt puppy expression, completely destroying the delightful buzz that she’d had going on?

Apparently wondering the same thing, Adore burst out, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m...it’s a party.”

Adore swallowed, and for a second Dahlia felt the guilt tighten in her chest. They hadn’t seen each other since that awful gig, when Dahlia had ditched the band and left with Pearl. She’d spoken to the others a few times, intentionally failing to mention that Pearl was more than a one-time thing.

She and Adore had been friends since high school, but for the first time in almost ten years, looking into her face was like looking at a stranger. Dahlia didn’t like to think about how much she’d hurt her, their friendship now probably beyond repair. For a few days after their fight, Dahlia had held out some hope, but when more than a week went by, and then two, and then three and no communication from Adore, she realized that it was truly over between them, despite Aja’s insistence that there was still hope, that she’d be fine after she nursed her wounds for awhile.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Dahlia said, feeling defensive as she added, “Believe me.”

“Yeah, but how did you-”

At that moment, the door to the bathroom banged open, and in waltzed Pearl, still turnt up to 100, holding two drinks in her hands.

“Heyyyyy, D, are you ready to fuck this party up?!”

Adore turned toward her slowly, a look of horror on her face as the situation dawned on her.

Pearl looked hot as sin, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, a black long sleeved crop top clinging to her fit arms and shoving off a tone stomach, a skirt tight around her hips and ending just above her knees, a gold chain digging into the skin on her waist, her heeled boots making her ass look amazing. But Adore didn’t appear to be admiring her beauty or chic fashion sense. Instead, the look on her face was one of pure disgust.

“Are you…” Adore turned back to Dahlia, asking, “Are you here together?”

“Hell yeah!” Pearl exclaimed, before Dahlia could respond. She shot Pearl a look, trying to tell her to shut up with her eyes, but it didn’t do any good. “It’s good to see you, Delano. You look hot as fuck tonight. Want a drink?”

Adore blinked, clearly trying to figure out how Pearl could be such an absolute fucking idiot. (Dahlia was wondering the same thing.)

“...No. No, I don’t want a drink. I want you to leave. Both of you!”

“Why should we leave?” Pearl asked, sipping one of the cocktails. “We don’t have the problem here, and you don’t have to have one either.”

“Because! I’ve known Jinkx since I was a kid and my sister’s here and you’re just here to...why are you here? This isn’t even your scene!”

“I thought it would be a nice change of pace,” Pearl said. “You seriously need to relax, I thought we said we were gonna be friends.”

“Friends? Are you fucking serious, Pearl?”

“Yeah? Why not? It’s not like we ever really worked as a couple.” Pearl held out the other cocktail glass, which Dahlia assumed was meant to be for her, shaking it slightly, the ice clinking against the sides of the glass. “Jack and ginger…Isn’t that your drink? Consider it a peace off-”

“Pearl! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you have brain damage?!” Adore cried, slapping her hand away, liquor sloshing over the side of the glass. “You cannot seriously be fucking one of my oldest friends and think everything is gonna be cool! Or that you can buy me off with one cocktail from a fucking open bar!”

“This is so boring.” Pearl groaned slightly, rolling her eyes. “You’re totally ruining my buzz.”

“Good!” Adore yelled, voice hoarse, the tears filling her eyes telling Dahlia that they had about 30 seconds before a full emotional meltdown. She put her hand on Pearl’s arm, trying to signal for her to shut the fuck up so they could get the fuck out.

“Adore, there’s no need to make a scene. Why don’t you grow up and come do shots with us-”

“Do shots with you?!”

“Yes! We can all have some fun, and - what?” Pearl finally noticed Dahlia’s nails digging into her wrist, turning to her with an annoyed expression, which Dahlia ignored.

“I’m sorry,” Dahlia said instead, directly to Adore, as sincerely as possible.

Adore took a deep breath, eyes dull and glassy as she said, “Whatever. I just...please, just-”

“We’ll leave,” Dahlia assured her. After everything that went down, it seemed like the least she could do.

“But-” Pearl began, still not getting it.

“Pearl! Enough! Come.” She grabbed Pearl’s arm and pulled her towards the door, turning at the last second to give Adore one last, “Sorry.”

Adore nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. Her sorry clearly wasn’t enough. It probably never would be. She held her gaze for one more split second before she couldn’t stand it anymore and pushed the door open, shoving Pearl through.

***

“Hurry up lovely eyes!”

“I am, calm down-”

Sutan grinned as Violet grabbed yet another stack of papers from the living room table, moving them out of the way as quickly as she could, the table not at all ready for dinner, since neither of them had expected to be home. They were waiting for their food, the local Chinese restaurant nearly groaning on the phone when Sutan had placed his order, so he had promised to tip generously, though he always did anyway.

Sutan watched Violet, a small smile on his lips as the ends of his girlfriend's hair was still damp, the blue wrap dress and the thick socks so unlike the gown Sutan knew she would have otherwise worn, not that he himself wasn’t in a pair of loose sweats and a sweater.

Sutan didn’t normally pay much attention to what Violet was doing on the living room table, since they both preferred to either eat in the kitchen or at the TV, but it seemed like he should start checking in more, everything he stumbled upon utterly fascinating.

So far, he had seen completed patterns for skirt embroidery, all marked in Violet’s neat handwriting and completely idiot proof, his girlfriend clearly still not trusting the tailoring department to do their job while they were away in Aspen.

He had spotted what he assumed was the beginning of Raja’s MET clothes, seeing his twin's face stare back at him highly amusing. Violet had already done several small collections, fabrics and sketches all stapled together in little collages that gave a quick overview of her thoughts.

“Where do you want me to-” Sutan took a stack of paper from the table, wanting to help Violet, but all he managed was to make his girlfriend whip around, her eyes wide.

“Careful!”

“I am!” Sutan laughed, hooking his thumbs on top of the layers of fabric so it wouldn’t go anywhere as he walked over to the chest of drawers, putting it down to the side. “I didn’t realize you were so messy, Violet.”

“Please,” Violet snorted, leaning on her crutches with a raised eyebrow. “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Kitchen Table.”

“Ha!” Sutan grinned, the taunt hitting exactly right, though he hadn’t actually thought about the kitchen table in forever, the surface somehow always clean when he needed it.

***

In the elevator, Dahlia fumed silently as she slipped on her coat. She’d been expecting an epic and glamorous night, not the shitshow that had just occured. Even more annoyingly, Pearl seemed unfazed by the whole thing.

“So, where to?” Pearl asked, her voice obnoxiously chipper.

“I don’t know,” Dahlia replied sullenly.

Completely oblivious to her tone, Pearl soldiered on. “There’s this great dive bar a few blocks from here, it’s-”

“A dive bar?” Dahlia cut in bitterly. “Dressed like this?”

Dahlia had not dropped nearly $300 on a new dress and spent two hours getting ready to end up in a dive bar. She crossed her arms.

“Well...I... Okay, if you want another fancy party, I can find one.” Pearl pulled up Twitter on her phone, scrolling through her feed. “I know my boss is at that MoMA thing, but I bet we can find something better-”

Suddenly though, even the thought of another extravagant party left a terrible taste in Dahlia’s mouth.

“Maybe I should just go home,” Dahlia sighed.

“What? Why?” Pearl’s head was tilted, confused, and looking at her big blue eyes, Dahlia couldn’t hold in her exasperation for a second longer.

“Because! I’m not really in the mood to sip champagne after all that! I know you’re like, hashtag unbothered by the whole thing, but it kind of sucks that I lost one of my oldest friends!” she burst out, just as the elevator reached the lobby.

Pearl touched her gently on the hand, saying sincerely, “It’s her loss, D.”

Dahlia sighed. She appreciated that Pearl was making an effort to be all ride-or-die, but it just felt too much like dismissing her feelings. She had lost something, something important, and she felt like shit.

“I just...wonder if it was worth it…” Dahlia admitted, and Pearl’s brow creased, finally bothered for the first time.

“I didn’t force you to come out with me,” she said quietly.

“I know,” said Dahlia.

“Or to fuck me.”

“I know.”

They stared at each other, a few moments of awkward silence passing before Dahlia finally looked down. It wasn’t fair of her to put all of this on Pearl, she knew that. But she couldn’t help feeling a bit resentful.

“If you really want to go home, I can get you a cab,” Pearl finally said.

Dahlia swallowed, a deep sigh leaving her. “Okay…”

So much for her epic, glamorous New Year’s Eve.

***

Still shaking a little from that awful confrontation in the bathroom, Adore walked towards the bar to order a drink. She’d been doing her best not to think about Dahlia or the whole mess with Pearl over the holidays, but Aja had asked her a few days earlier if they were gonna work things out, for the sake of the band.

Adore was thinking about it--after all, she loved her band. She loved writing music and she loved performing, and Dahlia had been part of it from the beginning. So she was trying to work up the energy to talk to her again. Or, she had been until tonight.

The fact that she was still dating Pearl was the last thing Adore expected. From Dahlia, that is. From Pearl, at this point nothing would surprise her.

Ugh.

She glanced around the room, wondering where the fuck Courtney was. Of course, she finally spotted her with Jinkx and Bianca, perched on a sofa, hanging on her sister’s arm...and likely her every word, if the look on her face was any indication.

Adore rolled her eyes, in no mood for Courtney’s slavish puppy love at the moment.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender.

“Double Jameson,” Adore replied immediately, then after half a second added, “Actually, make it a triple.”

“You got it.”

Adore put her head on the bar and groaned slightly. Beside her, someone chuckled drily.

“Sounds like your night is going about as well as mine.” The tall blonde grinned at her sheepishly, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Wait, aren’t you Courtney’s friend?”

Adore puffed out her cheeks. She’d been known as ‘Bianca’s sister’ for most of her life, and she was resigned to it at this point. But now, she was gonna be ‘Courtney’s friend’? When would she just be herself? “Yeah. I’m Adore.”

Thankfully, the bartender set Adore’s drink down just then, allowing her to take a giant sip.

“Alaska,” supplied the blonde. “I work with Court at Galactica. I love her so much, she’s just the sweetest thing ever. She talks about you all the time.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, Adore burst out with, “Yeah, Courtney’s the fucking greatest. My best friend. Although you wouldn’t know it tonight, since all she cares about is my fucking sister and the moon that apparently shines out of her ass.”

Alaska looked taken aback for a moment, and Adore squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just...yeah, I’m just having a real shitty night, and I...please forget I said all that.” She couldn’t help finishing with, “Even though it’s true.”

Alaska laughed, a long infectious laugh that made Adore smile in spite of her wretched mood. “Consider it forgotten…But are you okay? Feeling a little left out?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know. I just saw my ex, who is now dating my former friend.”

“Ouch.”

“Why don’t we talk about you instead? What’s your story?” Adore asked her.

Wincing, Alaska sipped her drink. “Let’s not. I’m…sort of going through it tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Is it worse than your friend of ten years fucking your ex right after you broke up, and then the two of them showing up pretending like everything is normal and your ex asking you to fucking do shots with them?”

“Uh…no…not worse than that. Jesus.” Alaska shook her head and gestured to Adore’s drink. “You sure a triple’s strong enough?”

Adore laughed and shook her head. “It’s not. But I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear that.” Alaska reached out and put a hand on Adore’s. “They both sound like assholes, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Adore said gratefully, looking into Alaska’s kind brown eyes and feeling seen for the first time all night. She cleared her throat. “...Okay, I just told you my shit. Wanna tell me yours?”

“Well…” Alaska chewed nervously on the straw in her own cocktail. “I have this friend…”

“Yeah…?” Adore prompted.

“I’m in love with her, and she doesn’t feel the same way, so I come to these things to torture myself.”

“Fuck.” Adore nodded, completely understanding this girl’s pain. She tossed back the last of her drink, then slammed the glass back down onto the bar, thinking that they may as well have some fun. “Fuck it. Do you wanna dance?”

“Sure!” Alaska said, a beautiful smile blooming on her face.

*

It wasn’t until they were on the dance floor, Adore’s hands circling Alaska’s waist, that she began to feel how tipsy she was. She hadn’t intended to drink, and certainly not to this point, but here she was. Thankfully, Adore didn’t seem to mind supporting her weight.

She leaned in close, mouth right up against Alaska’s ear, and said, “Your friend is a dumbass.”

Alaska giggled. “Thanks, I think?”

“I’m serious! You’re totally hot.”

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you, I will not!” Adore held her tighter. “Is she here?”

Alaska glanced to the side of the room, where Jinkx was laughing with someone. She nodded.

“Wanna make her jealous?”

“How are we gonna–” Alaska was cut off by Adore’s soft, warm mouth against hers, plush lips pressed to hers, hands pulling her closer. After her initial surprise, she relaxed into the kiss, winding her fingers in Adore’s long, messy red hair and opening her mouth, letting her tongue inside. It had been so long, and she maybe responded a little too ardently. Maybe let it go on a little too long. Maybe pressed against her too hard…but damn, she felt good.

Adore pulled her head back, grinning wickedly, and whispered, “Is she looking?”

“Is…what…oh, shit.” Alaska suddenly remembered what she was doing and glanced to the side without moving her head. “Yeah, she’s looking,” she answered softly.

Adore kissed her again, sliding her hands down to her ass. Alaska’s heart raced and she whimpered slightly. Adore released her again and winked. “Happy New Year,” she said, sauntering away.

Alaska brought a hand to her mouth, watching her walk away with a slightly dazed expression. She caught Jinkx’s eye for a split second and then looked away, blushing.

***

[arsenicpanda]

Here's an ask: what are some betty & jug moments or scenes that you've always wanted to see on the show? I don't necessarily mean relationshipy stuff (altho yes sure that too), but investigation stuff, family dynamic stuff, serpent stuff, etc etc. Expand this ask outside of bughead too, if you'd like!

A good but difficult question!  Let's see, let's see...

- Jughead proposing for realsies is one I desperately want.  Like, he's had two pseudo-proposals already, where is his real one?  I deserve to see it.  Bonus points if it's impulsive and he uses one of the rings he's always wearing to do it.

- I really, *really* want Betty and Jughead to be engaged and then do some crimes and have to rush up their wedding so they won't have to testify against each other.  I will also accept them dating but not engaged, and then Betty is going into emergency mode, but Jughead is like, "So, uh, I've had this engagement ring ready for like three months, and I know this is a bad time, but will you marry me?" And then Betty says yes and they get married and don't go to jail.

- I want to see Betty and Jughead have to makeout as a cover when they're caught somewhere they shouldn't be.  Like, that's a classic, I want to see it.

- I need more of Betty and Jughead doing shady shit while both wearing their Serpent jackets, I want scenes of them acting as a clear power couple, I deserve this.

- More dark bughead!  I don't even care how it manifests, I want them doing morally dubious things because the ends justify the means.

- Vengeance quest!  I want Jughead to go on a vengeance quest like the one Betty went on for him in season 4.  I deserve this parallel.

- Cooking!  I want to see Betty and Jughead cooking for each other, bonus points if it's Jughead doing the cooking because Betty deserves to be taken care of for once.

- Jughead getting better at writing!  I just want the show to hire someone who actually is good at writing prose to write his narrative segments.  Just, please, show, you want me to believe he is a good writer, so just hire someone who can write prose, I am BEGGING you.

- Betty and Gladys!  I was ROBBED of seeing them together!  In fact, I desperately wanted the whole Jones+Betty family to sit down to breakfast or dinner or something because I bet it would be so awkward.

- Betty and Jellybean!  Betty, Jellybean, and Jughead!  I already made my post about this, technically, but I would still love to see it, especially the three of them together.

- Serpents + Betty!  I so wish they had explored this more, to have the Serpents see Hardcore Scary Betty and Betty see how much the Serpents and Jughead are friends.  The 3x01 Hot Dog mission was good, but I wish I had seen them working more as a team in some heisty situation.  Bonus points for throwing Cheryl into the mix.

- Toni joins the Blue and Gold!  I'm still mad I didn't get this.  I crave Betty/Toni interactions, and I think Toni would make an interesting addition to the investigation team, and I'd enjoy seeing them all in planning mode, only for Betty and Jughead to drift off into "Investigations are sexy" mode and then Toni has to spray them with water to get them to focus.

- Jughead + Serpents!  All permutations of this are important to me.  I think Jughead's friendships with the Serpents are really interesting because they're based on a common experience that Jughead just doesn't share with anyone else.  There's a sense of community and family, of sorts, that I get from the teen Serpents, the feel of those friends who you can not speak to for ages but then easily slip back into normal patterns once you see each other again.  I think they're four people of varying levels of impulsiveness and "I will FIGHT YOU, right here, right now" who have to keep each other in check.  Like, there is not one single one of them who stops the others from doing stupid shit; they ALL are capable of doing stupid shit and picking fights on principle alone, but there's also usually at least one of them who's like, "Ok, guys, calm down", and I find that hilarious.  Also, bonus points for being three grumpy people and also Fangs, a ray of sunshine and king of bad decisions.  I really wish we got more of Fangs as a speaking character; for all he's had screentime, he doesn't talk much, and that leaves him with considerably less characterization, and it's frustrating.  Also, I wish we had gotten more of watching them play G&G, I find these seemingly tough kids playing tabletops games to be the funniest fucking thing.

- Betty + Veronica!  I would like to see more of this friendship, and specifically I'd like to see Betty supporting Veronica, because we haven't gotten much of that.

- Betty + Kevin!  I wish I knew more about their friendship and could see more of it.  I want to see Kevin try and pry details about all the drama in Betty's life out of her.  I also wish we had gotten to hear even one of his gossip columns.

- Jones family!  I just want more of the Joneses, they're such a disaster family.  Like, I want more of every permutation of this dynamic, it's fascinating.  I mean, I especially want Jughead and Jellybean, but I'm also interested in FP and Gladys, FP and Jellybean, Gladys and Jellybean, Jughead and Gladys (outside of drug lord problems), the whole family at once.  I know it won't happen, but I'd love to see the whole family reunited because it's clearly something Jughead wants and I want him to have all the things he wants.

- Unrelated to Betty and Jughead, but, more than anything, I want a shot of Veronica standing in front of that painting of herself ala Hiram.  We have been doing parallels with them and "If Veronica isn't careful, she could become like her father" stuff since season 2 at the latest, I DESERVE this shot.

- Archie's gay awakening!  Look.  Look, they have given Archie so many homoerotic friendships, and RAS famously wrote a play about Archie being gay that he got a cease and desist letter for.  Everything should come full circle and RAS's Archie tv show should include Archie's gay awakening.  Bonus points if he's with Reggie.

- Betty v Hiram!  Everyone else has gotten at least one season where they went up against Hiram, Betty deserves hers.  Granted, she would probably take him down, or almost do so, so it might be best saved for the last season, but still, I want it.

And I think that's it?  At least, I think I've got everything I can think of for now.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Nightmares

Warnings: Talks about his parents a little if that’s something that upsets you, but other than that, nothing.

Word count: 1928

Notes: Hey there! So, a little disclaimer: I don't know all that much about Duke, so I just really hope his characterization is good. I also don't know if Dick is the one he's the closer to, but... I know more about Dick than I know about the others so I though it'd be best to use him??? Also, I really think he's the one least likely to be perceived as a threat in general, because he seems to be the one who just... smiles the most. And Idk, it made sense in my head. Now that we got that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this work!

Duke blinked his eyes open. His room was still drowning in darkness, so he sat up as quickly as he could and turned the lights on, vision blacking out for a moment. His eyes hurt because of the sudden brightness, but that was better than the unlit environment, so he rubbed them for a second, hoping it would make it better. Slowly, he managed to keep his eyes open, and looked down at his bare legs and sock-covered feet.

He was alive.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He was safe.

It wasn’t the first night it had happened. Or the second. It wasn’t even the tenth time that it had happened, and we’re only talking about one month. He ran a hand across his face, feeling how sweaty his forehead was, and then slipped out of bed, walking towards the bathroom as his legs still felt a little bit funny, too light to properly carry his body around. He supported his weight on the sink, not wanting to face the mirror just yet.

The cold water helped. Duke felt grounded again, and, unfortunately, more awake. He sighed, face still dripping wet. Sleeping now would be near impossible. He stared into his own reflection.

“Why am I this stupid?” He shook his head, murmuring to himself “It’s just a dream.”

Letting go of the sink, he patted his face dry, coming back to bed. He checked the time on his phone. 3:41.

“Fuck.” All that he managed were four hours, if that, of sleep. Again. And he was no Tim Drake, meaning that functioning during the day would be a big problem.

He laid his head on the fluffy pillow, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He wondered what to do.

He knew that all of the other bats had the same type of issues. Mostly because some of them would wake up screaming in horror, even when they were just taking a nap on the couch. Jason, Damian and Tim had them like that. Cass and Dick never screamed, but they always shot awake quickly and broke down sobbing soon after. He was sure Bruce had them too, but he never saw the man sleeping. He just put two and two together, noticing how his mood changed and how much sleep he seemed to be getting, and assumed he would get them just as often as any of his kids.

He knew all of them would wander into each other’s rooms at night, when they couldn’t sleep. As usual, not because he had been told, but because he had seen Damian and Cass leaving Dick’s room in the morning way too many times. The same thing happened to Tim and Jason, who seemed to often invade the other’s space. But that didn’t stop both of them from searching for Dick frequently as well. And the older boy would, occasionally, be spotted leaving Jason’s room.

He wondered how that worked. If they had a code, or a calendar, any sort of system that had been set up in the past.

He wished he was part of that system.

He checked the time again. Two minutes had passed.

Time was ticking too slowly. He was tired, but sitting alone in the dark was definitely not a good idea right now.

He’d have to ask for help.

Duke swallowed, analyzing his options. Damian was an angry menace, so he was off the list. Cass was scary and the one member you most definetly don’t want to piss off, which meant the risk was too great. Tim wouldn’t be such a bad option, but if he wasn’t out on patrol then he’d be working on one of his projects or homework, in a coffee induced mania. Which meant no. Jason was nice. They got along fine. But still, there was something about him that was always on edge, a little too wild, unpredictable.

Which left out one option. Dick Grayson.

And he was not exactly a great one either.

The teen swallowed.

“Well, it’s now or never, Duke.”

He stepped out of the bed and walked to the man’s door. He stared at the wood’s detailing for a longer time than what he had originally planned on. He raised a shaky hand and gave it three weak, quick knocks.

“Hm...?” Comes the answer.

“Uhm, Dick?” Duke asks “Sorry to wake you, I just...” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. There was some shuffling on the other side of the door, before it was swung open carefully.

“Hey there.” Dick smiled, blue eyes half closed and voice still raspy as he leaned on the doorframe “Can’t sleep?” Duke shook his head “I see. Come in.” Dick gesture him to enter. Duke noticed he had a nightlight on, making the room dark enough to sleep, but light enough to see in “Want me to turn on the lights?”

“No, this is fine.” He answered, watching Dick lay down again. The older man tapped on the bed slightly. Duke didn’t quite get the message.

“Duke. You can sit.” Dick said gently.

“Oh. Right.” He nodded.

Dick studied his movements as he carefully sat down, back towards him.

“Duke,” He asked, pushing himself up on his elbow “What’s going through your mind? Like, right now?” He asked “Be honest.”

The teen sighed.

“That I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have woken you up. I’m sorry. You’re always working so much, I shouldn’t be so selfish, you need to sleep, and...”

“Okay, calm down.” Dick sat up next to him, shuffling to throw his legs off the bed “Why did you come here?”

Duke winced. He regretted everything and wished he had just dealt with it by himself.

“I-I had a nightmare and I couldn’t sleep.” He answered “I’m sorry, I know that’s not your problem, I should just...” He tried to get up, but felt Dick’s hand on his shoulder and stopped.

“Hey,” He called, calmly “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re my brother, Duke. I’m here to help.” Duke looked into the other’s eyes, bright blue lights staring into his soul “Okay?” Duke nodded “Good.” He rubbed his back a little, and Duke slowly eased into the touch “Something tells me this isn’t the first time you had a nightmare.” Duke bit his lip “That’s okay. Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I... I didn’t think I could.”

Dick tilted his head to the side.

“Why not?”

“I mean... You guys seem to have your system or whatever. I didn’t want to get in the way.” He answered, staring at the floor. Dick frowned, confused.

“System?”

“Yeah,” He answered “I’ve seen you guys waking up on each other’s rooms and all. I know you must’ve worked out a way of... I don’t know. Helping each other, I guess? And I didn’t want to cause some sort of imbalance.”

Dick went quiet for a while, thinking.

“Duke,” He started “We don’t have a system.”

“You don’t?” He looked at the other, who shook his head slowly “But then how does it...” He gestured vaguely, trying to convey a message. Dick grinned.

“Whenever one of us can’t sleep, we go to someone’s room. That’s all there is to it, really.” He explained.

“But... What if someone walks into a room where someone else is having a rough time too? Like, what if Tim goes to Jason and he’s also having a nightmare or an insomnia espisode? Or if Damian comes into your room but Cass is already here?”

Dick shrugged.

“I don’t know how the others deal with it, but if I’m having a nightmare when someone comes in, it’s a relief for me too. And the beds are big enough to fit three or more people.”

Duke thought for a moment.

“So there is no system?”

“Nope.” Dick answered “And just to make things clear: you can knock at my door whenever you need to, alright?” Duke nodded “Great.” He smiled.

It made Duke feel at home. The nightlight kept the room in a comfortable gloom, and nothing here seemed threatening or dangerous. A big teddy bear was sitting on a chest of drawers, surrounded by three smaller plushies; a cat, a bat and a bunny. He had too many pillows on the bed, and every piece of furniture was painted on the lighter side. A real contrast to the man who jumped from buildings and kicked faces for a living.

“So... The bad dream,” Dick started, carefully “What was it about?”

“My mom and my dad.” He looked down again “I was... They were chasing me. I was in a forest and... They didn’t know who I was, and I was running, it was dark and I kept stumbling, falling, tripping on roots and stones... And then...” Duke made a choked sound, and covered his mouth, feeling embarassed.

“It’s alright.” Dick whispered, hand rubbing circles on his back again.

“And then... The Joker was there. And the forest was gone. But I don’t know where I was, it was so dark and I couldn’t see anything, except for him. I tried to run, but I was paralized, in that weird dream way, you know?” Dick nodded, and Duke nodded with him “Yeah. And he didn’t say anything, he just... laughed and laughed and laughed... And then I woke up.”

“That sounds awful, Duke.” He said, soft eyes and understanding voice.

“It... It was.” He felt an arm across his shoulders, and he leaned into Dick’s chest. His shirt smelled like laundry detergent.

“Yeah. But you’re safe now. I’ve got you.” The man gave him a squeeze, resting his chin on the top of his head.

“I- I know.” He answered “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They stayed like that for a while, until Duke trusted himself to speak without crying.

“How do you...” Duke started, and Dick let go of him so they could properly talk “When someone sleeps here, how does that happen? Like, where... Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“In the bed?” Dick tilted his head again.

“But... Isn’t it, like, weird?”

“Oh...” He raised his eyebrows “I see. Not really, no. Usually we cuddle, but that’s not mandatory. Cass is the only one who isn’t always wanting to, but even if she doesn’t want to touch me, the bed is big enough so that we don’t have to. Look, if you want to, you can use the couch, but I strongly suggest against it.” Duke looked at the small sofa placed against the wall. He’d have to curl up in a weird position to sleep in it.

“I think I’ll take the bed.”

Dick tapped his back slightly.

“Good choice.” He smiled, turning around to lay down again. Duke mimicked the action, placing his head on the pillow. Dick’s were much softer and fluffier than his. Not in a bad way, just different.

It felt odd. The bed smelled distinctly like his brother, but he was unsure on which product had that effect; the aftershave, the cologne, the deodorant, the shampoo, the hair pomade... Maybe a combination of all of those. Weirdly, it felt comforting. Safe.

He turned around, laying on his side and curling up a little, like he always did. Dick had his back turned to him.

“Hey, uhm, Dick?” He whispered.

“Yeah?” The other murmured sleepily.

“I was... M-maybe... If we... Like, would it... U-uh...”

Dick turned around.

“It’s okay.” He said, wrapping his arm around the other “Like this?”

“Y-yeah.” He stuttered “Thank you.”

“No worries, baby bro.” He grinned “Good night Duke.”

“Good night.”

[therollingstonys]

Fic Recs of the Week!! June 8-12, 2020

Here we go!!! More under the cut!

Puppy Love by @jehbeeeh

One shot: Stony, COMPLETE

Rated: G

Steve gets turned into a puppy by Loki.

12/10 THE MOST FLUFFY 🥰🥰 So cute and soft and fluffy!! So many cute moments that made me just go AWW out loud. Must read!!

The Tutor by @tisfan and @27dragons

Multi chapter: Winteriron, WIP

Rated: E

When a scandal drives Tony Stark from his family and home, he takes a position as tutor to the children of a far-off boyar. He arrives in the country to find the boyar himself absent and the castle staff mistrustful. The children are their own challenge, the elder openly hostile and the younger entirely too clever for her own good. Despite various mishaps such as the appearance of a ghost, the boy getting himself arrested, and Tony getting lost in the woods, the work is satisfying. Tony is beginning to think he might be able to make a place for himself here... And then the boyar comes home. Now, things are really hard.

Listen my love for Jane Eyre style fics knows no bounds. I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT. Tisfan and 27dragons never fail to deliver a HEA, and in this day and age that’s something incredibly comforting to sit down and enjoy.

Blood Will Tell by @thewaythatwerust

Multi chapter: stuckony, winteriron, stony and stucky, WIP

Rated: E

Bucky should have never intervened...

But 'should have' had never been his strong suit. Which is how he finds himself in a cell, with the inexplicable urge to protect the human charged with holding him captive, from the aberrant lycan threat rising up around them. He thinks it can't get worse... until a strangely familiar face is staring at him through the bars, out for his blood. That's when things start to get really interesting.

Vampires and werewolves and drama oh my!! I love this fic so much!! It’s so fun and intractely built—the lore is completely believable and interesting and the characters are so well written it’s amazing!! 11/10 MUST READ!

Blind Side Tackle by @longhornletters

Multi chapter: Stony, WIP

Rated: M

Steve Rogers wants two things - for a team (preferably not Dallas) to draft him and to not make an absolute fool of himself on an NFL field. He's trying to find his own way in a complicated system, but through the ups and downs of transitioning to the pros, he's got more help than he realizes. Tony Stark wants two things also - a face of the franchise-quality quarterback and a bit of that "little life" he's always just kind of ignored up to now. He's trying to find the work-life balance everyone keeps telling him he needs, but the things he wants can sometimes come from unexpected places.

I am American and so I was raised with American football, and combining this love with stony means I’ve found a fic that I just adore. The writing is absolute superb and the characterization is spot on!! Add it to your list folks, you’re gonna love it!!

Cabin Fever by @winterstar95 

Multi chapter: Stony, COMPLETE

Rated: E

After Ultron, the team needed something to pull them back together. A long weekend away at a cabin in the woods sounded like an excellent idea. They could binge watch favorite shows, cook, eat, play games. It would be great. Except it wasn't, because the storm of the century hit and Tony ends up stuck with Steve - alone in the cabin.

Honestly, there were so many cute parts of this I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite, but tbh, the sled riding was just too fucking cute!! I loved watching these two idiots slowly figure out their feels and learn to communicate like they need to. So so good, and so sweet!!

Tryst by @hollyandvice 

One shot: Stony, COMPLETE 

Rated: E

Steve slips a hand into his pocket and rubs his thumb over the remote he’s carrying. The temptation is so close to his heart, something in him wanting to push Tony a little higher, make that perfect mask slip even just a little bit. It's a hell of a temptation and Steve might have given in if not for the slightly desperate look Tony shoots his way.

Steve smiles. A concession. Tony deserves a reward for that.

Tony makes Steve an offer he can't refuse. Steve ups the ante. Everyone gets what the want in the end.

WHOOO BABY was this one HOT. *fans self* First of all, I adore this premise anyway, and then how it was written?? OOF. 100/10 please please read lol 

Silver Fox by @missmoodybear

One shot: stuckony, COMPLETE

Rated: E

Steve nudged Bucky’s arm, “Silver foxes are his type.” He quickly took a sip of his beer before Bucky could hit him. Bucky could feel his heart beat faster.“Hmm…not the first time I’ve been called that, honestly.” Stark sipped his whiskey. He looked at them both, his eyes almost like a physical touch, “So, what’s your type, Blondie?”“Oh! Uhh...well,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.Bucky knew an opportunity for revenge when he saw one. “He is a bossy fuckin’ bottom, and his type is anyone who can put up with that.”“Dammit Buck,” Steve sputtered, his ears turned pink in a flash.“I can handle that. Well, if you two are sober enough to consent, my car is waiting out front.”Steve’s eyes locked with his. It wasn’t their intention to go home with someone when they came out, just to look, but he was the one putting it all out there, and Bucky could see a challenging smirk on Steve’s plush lips, the one he gets when he wants to play. Stark waited for them both to nod, then he drained his glass before pulling out the blue-tinted glasses and settling them back on his face, “Shall we?

*deep breath* y’all....Y’ALL!! THIS FIC!! It’s SO GOOD. So hot! Absolutely amazing, and I adore every word! 😍😍😍😍 This fic is only visible to users who have an AO3 account, so do yourself a favor and sign up so you can read it!!

[lambourngb]

Duty of Care and /or Gravedigger’s Union

I did Grave Dancer’s Union - a nod to my 90s love of Soul Asylum here.

Duty of Care was another torture Michael fic- I wrote it pre-season 2, when I thought the love triangle was going in a particular way. I don’t know if there’s still an appetite to season 1 au stories? There’s some season 1 characterization of Alex ahead, particularly in regards to Jesse.

Here’s what I had - some of which already appeared here before Last Year’s Wishes ate my brain.

****

“Can’t believe Maria is still wearing the pendant of alien poison around her neck while she dates your alien ass, Guerin..” Kyle commented watching the decay values multiply as Liz titrated pollen into the samples.  

The current theory on alien resurrection, and it said a lot about his life that he had competing theories on alien-involved resurrection, was that their ability to manipulate energy changed based on their needed life skills at the time of adolescence. Michael had been separated from his siblings young, and needed to develop defensive skills. The defiant and pained look on his face when he explained stopping an item being hurled at his head at the age of 7 was a needed survival tactic courtesy of foster homes he had passed through kept Kyle from questioning any further.

Isobel had through her mother Ann’s never-ending dinner parties and charity benefits, found comfort in seeing and knowing what was meant under the sugary sweet words of adults around her. Being a small child paraded around adults who were charmed by her blonde hair and blue eyes meant she had the most exposure to social events while Max hid in his books. 

Finally Max had anointed himself as a fixer early on in their life. He had taken responsibility for Michael being left behind, and had tasked himself to protect his sister afterward. The defensive use of healing fit with his offensive ability to kill in the service of keeping those he loved safe. 

At the most basic level, it was all energy from synaptic responses in brain waves to manipulating molecules to move or stop an object. How a pollen interrupted that energy use could theoretically solve the problem of how to jump start an ability.

“You think you might get around to telling her the big secret anytime soon?”

The mask over his mouth and face did little to block the glare Michael shot at him. “Shut up Valenti.” 

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s Maria. She is a card carrying member of the ACLU and the Nature Conservatory. I had to bail her out of jail last year during an ICE protest. She’s not going to turn you over to the government.” 

“Kyle!” Liz scolded, “We talked about this. Agency. It’s up to Isobel and Michael who knows. I already broke that with you.”

Michael ran a gloved figure over the counter absently. “I hate secrets, okay. This isn’t any fun for me, especially considering how many people already know. I went from having just Max and Isobel, to basically the whole graduating class of New Roswell High in on it. A lot of loose lips.”

The habit of 20 years of paranoid silence was probably a lot to try and break with a new relationship if that was the basis of it. There was a good amount of slack that Kyle could extend to Michael, including trying to be understanding when he started up with Alex’s best friend in the wake of Max’s death, but exclusion of Maria from the secret felt wrong to him.

He couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind lying to someone that he wanted to be in a relationship with, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t because of worries that she would tell someone about the aliens living in Roswell. While he couldn’t outright call Michael an asshole on Alex’s behalf, he could poke and prod him when the opportunity surfaced.

“You should look at this way Guerin, that larger circle means if something does happen, you’ve got more back up than just Isobel, with Max being out of commission.”

“Oh yeah, so if the government disappears me to a black site, you’re going to ride to my rescue?”

“Yes.” Kyle replied seriously. “I wouldn’t be alone either.” The name Alex Manes went unsaid, but from the brief wince on Michael’s face, he knew exactly who was being referred to obliquely. Scored hit again.

“Well as fun as this discussion is, I’m going to take off. Iz and I have practice plans.” Michael slipped his hat on, and tucked the stool away. “Liz, call me if you have a breakthrough on nullifying this stuff. For a rare flower, there sure was a lot of it stockpiled in Noah’s cave.”

“Sure thing, Mikey.” 

“Valenti, make sure she goes home to sleep and eat at some point. I don’t want to have to put her in a pod next.” He ducked out of reach of her hand, laughing at the offended look she sent his way. 

“Far be it for me to agree with him, but he’s right. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends and the middle between rebuilding your lab, researching Max’s healing power, studying this pollen, not to mention working at the diner. We should make time for something else, like a drink or a movie. Recharge.” The past month since Max’s ‘death’ brought back the manic energy burst from solving the issues with the depowering serum. From one catastrophe to another, it was barely time to recover before the next happened.

“I know, I just. I need to stay busy. It’s so quiet without him.” Liz stretched and started to tuck her last slide away into the cooler. “But I think I am done today, if I work anymore, I’ll just be making mistakes.”

Kyle slipped on his coat and held the door. “Not that I don’t believe you leaving on your own volition, but let me walk you out.”

“Lucky for you, I’m too tired to be offended.”

Kyle kept his hand on her back gently steering her through the hallways. The third shift was on at the hospital, and he winced to think about his own upcoming shift at noon tomorrow. Balancing football, his pre-med studies and his social life in Michigan taught him valuable life skills in working on short sleep, but even the hours of residency had no competition on his current life of alien lab work and tracking down government funding of a black ops prison project with Alex. When he mentioned a night off, he wasn’t only including Liz in that need.

Inhaling the cool night air, he calculated if he made it home, heated up a meal, and fell asleep promptly there was the opportunity for 6 good hours of sleep before meeting up at the bunker to check in on the data mining project Alex was running. 

“You know, you should go a little easier on Michael.”

“I thought everyone in this town was in love with Max Evans, but apparently it’s Guerin.” Kyle retorted sarcastically. 

Liz bit her lip at the mention of Max before sighing softly. “I’m serious, Kyle. He’s really messed up right now. I was actually shocked he was somewhat sober tonight.”

“I’m not going to be petty here Liz, and mention the obvious that we are all really messed up right now. I get where you’re coming from about their need for secrecy, but Maria really deserves better. I’m not her best friend like you are and Alex was, but I’ve been here in this town with her. She was there for me after my dad died, and she supported my mom’s election for sheriff. With Mimi getting worse, she deserves to have someone to count on, not someone who is lying to her, and by extension, making all of us lie to her as well.”

“Alex was? Past tense?”

He arched his eyebrow in disbelief, “I guess I am going to be petty tonight, but seriously Liz? Have you talked to Alex lately? Every time Maria comes up in conversation he puts his best ‘Baghdad was a little warm and I was just doing a job’ face on and repeats to anyone listening how happy he is for them. Guerin messed him up, and worse, took away from him one of the few people he lets himself drop that soldier bullshit front he has.”

Liz sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know the history with Michael is a little complicated, but we don’t always get to choose who we fall for and who we don’t. Love is messy. It doesn’t color inside the lines and follow any of the rules.”

“Maybe you’re right about that, and maybe there’s no avoiding the heartache. I do believe though that you can choose whether or not to be a dick about things, and Guerin not telling Maria is a dick move and it’s got consequences.” Kyle unlocked his car, and opened the passenger side with a gesture. “Our sister doesn’t have many friends, and he’s robbing her of one right now. Rosa lost ten years because of aliens, don’t you think that’s enough loss for all of us?”

“Do you know how annoying you are when you’re right? I’ll talk to Michael, better yet, I’ll talk to Isobel about letting Maria in on the secret.”

He slid into the driver’s seat, smiling across to her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, what’s left of it, is for sleeping.” He turned the ignition, and stopped,  as the headlights came up illuminating the familiar green Chevy sitting across the lot from them. “That’s Guerin’s truck.”

“He left before we did, what’s it still doing here?” Liz ducked out of the passenger seat and ran toward the truck without waiting for an answer. Kyle swore softly, untangling his hand from the ignition to follow her. The truck looked undisturbed, no sign of the occupant. Liz reached for the driver’s side door, testing it, and gasped as the door swung open. The ever present black hat slipped off the dash into the floorboards.

There were three things Michael prized above all others, his truck, his cowboy hat, and his sister. To leave two out of three unprotected was highly out of character for him. Kyle turned around the parking lot, scanning for signs of him. 

“Kyle, look,” Liz grabbed his arm and pulled him down toward the wheel well of the truck. Gleaming silver in the light , tucked on top of the tire tread, was a syringe needle with a depressed plunger.

“That’s not good.”

She stuffed her hand into her pocket and withdrew a spare latex glove to wrap around her fingers as she lifted the syringe from the tire.  She peered closely at the vial, a sickly yellow liquid film thinly coated the inside. “I think someone took him, and without testing it, I’m guessing this is some sort of knock out drug based on the pollen.”

Kyle reached for his phone, mentally saying goodbye to the idea of sleep anytime soon. “I’ll call Alex, you call Isobel. And I don’t know, I guess call my mom? I mean, we usually call the police when someone gets abducted.”

Liz thinned her lips, holding the needle with one hand as she dug out her phone with the other. “I don’t think you can call the cops on the government, which I’m guessing that’s what we are dealing with since they knew how to knock out Michael.”

The government, or more specially it was probably someone related to Project Shepherd. Kyle sighed, holding his phone to his ear. It rang once, before he heard, “What’s wrong?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure he had called Alex and not the psychic alien sister, “How did you know something was wrong?”

“You’ve called me twice in the last three months, once to tell me you put my dad in a coma and once to tell me about Max. You’re a texter, even though I explained it’s easier to keep things secret if you call. So again, what’s wrong?”

Kyle slowly walked back toward the hospital. He should have volunteered to call Isobel, because this was not going to be easy. “It’s Guerin.”

“Is he okay?” 

“We don’t know. We think someone took him. Liz and I found his truck at the hospital, unlocked. It looks like he got jumped by someone who knows how to incapicitate him.”

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” 

Kyle wasn’t surprised to see the call disconnected. It was a forty minute drive from the cabin to the hospital if someone followed the speed limits. 

*** 

“It’s Guerin.”

Alex was somewhat aware that he must have replied. He was in his SUV and away from the bunker, before he’d registered that the call had ended. He could only be thankful that today had been a ‘pull day’, rather than a ‘push day.’

Alex could divide his days into two motivations, he either wanted to be as far from town and the chance of running into someone he knew (Michael) or he wanted to be close in case something happened that he could help fix (for Michael). The cabin was isolated enough that only Kyle made the trip from Roswell, but not in recent memory with the pace of lab work and hospital hours. Alex could comfortably avoid reality with his laptop until the second feeling took hold. The Project Shepherd bunker was an easier location to reach Isobel or Liz from when the inviatble call for assisting an intoxicated Michael came. 

Seeing Maria meant seeing Michael in the evening hours, and it was strange to resort to in his post-service life the habit of a decade before; lying and hiding himself in every interaction. His calendar had a weekly reminder to join Liz and Maria at the Wild Pony for a beer, usually scheduled early enough that Michael was still at Sanders working, but late enough that the automated work emergency text to his phone could reliably give him cover for an exit. 

Psychic as she was, Maria always let him go with a pained but relieved look. It wasn’t her fault that he was still in love with Michael. It wasn’t her fault that Michael wasn’t in love with him. Neither he nor Maria had so many friends that they could afford to lose one, but neither was fooling the other that the relationship hadn’t changed in the aftermath of her dating Michael. 

This wasn’t his first go around with unrequited love. 

He’d survived Brendon Urie, and he wasn’t ashamed to have been a sixteen year old pouring over fan meet and greets on livejournal before hitting the road with Rosa to see Panic at the Disco in Albuquerque just after school let for the summer. He might have mapped out Los Angeles coffee shops to busk at after he turned legal and could escape west to be a musician, coffee shops close to Silver Lakes and Encino neighborhoods to be organically discovered by his crush.

He had survived his fourteen year old obsession with Kyle, that lasted until it was safer to love unattainable rockstars versus the childhood friend now high school bully. He could laugh at himself for thinking that Kyle had turned on him because he felt the same way but just didn’t know how to articulate it outside of shoving him against the lockers and jeering at him in gym class. 

Unrequited love that had once been returned was a higher bar to clear than a fan fantasy or a childhood crush, but then the sins Alex carried were deeper and more lasting as well. More than a ruined but now healed hand and a discarded scholarship, he had the murder of Michael’s mother to carry.  He would survive Michael not loving him, he was reasonably sure of it. He wasn’t sure if he would survive something happening to Michael because of the Manes family legacy. 

Someone knowing how to subdue and take Michael pointed to his family’s involvement. 

He didn’t bother with the visitor’s desk at the hospital foyer this time, walking purposefully toward the elevator and wing where Liz’s new lab resided. The door opened to his touch, revealing Isobel hovering anxiously near Liz’s shoulder as she swabbed a syringe. 

“You made good time.” Isobel greeted.

“I hacked the traffic lights.” Alex informed, setting his laptop case on the lab table, and popping the case open. A few keystrokes and he was inside the hospital network and probably breaking a dozen federal laws of privacy. 

Kyle closed the door, and shook his head, “Seriously?”

“No. I was at the bunker.” He brought up the internal security logs, noting visitors and elevator access. “So what do we know?”

“Not a lot,” Liz replied, her gaze fixed on a spread of swabs and slides. “I’m trying to pull as many samples as I can from this syringe so I can analyze it. There looks to be a reservoir of 3 CCs. My original serum required a dose of at least 6 CCs to incapacitate, so whatever they used was more concentrated.”

“Hopefully less lethal,” Isobel observed. “Are you in the hospital network already?”

“Just what’s linked to the internal wifi signals. I’m going to need access to their security office since it appears the actual camera footage is on a closed circuit.”

Kyle pulled out his ID badge, “I can take you there, but how are you going to get the guards to let you look at the footage? I can still call my mom and make this an official police investigation.”

Alex dug into his pockets for a thumb drive, and then turned to Isobel, “I’m hoping you can influence the guard into letting me download the footage. If you can’t, then we will need to bring the sheriff into this.”

Isobel tapped her forehead knowingly, “If I can’t influence the guards to let you in, I can at least make one of them think he left his car unlocked or his coffee pot plugged in.”

“Let’s go then. Michael has been missing for at least an hour.”

Kyle tapped his badge at certain checkpoints, opening the electronic doors as they headed down to the security room. Alex made a mental note to scrub the ID tags once they were done, on the off chance someone was curious about the movements of a doctor who should have been long off duty.

The windowless room was covered in screens and held one guard boredly sipping his coffee while he watched a television show on his phone. There was a chance they didn’t need a psychic to gain access, but it was probably better safe than sorry.

Alex moved quickly after Isobel held the security guard’s mind in hers and slide behind the desk to call up the footage on the parking garage. Mindful of time, he plugged in his drive and started transferring all the raw data from the camera recordings. The antiquated hospital computing system did nothing to soothe the anxiety. 

Long experience working with poor computing power and broken infrastructure while deployed in Iraq was the only thing that kept his inner impatience off his face. Touching the mouse or tapping his fingers never moved data faster. 

Finally the file clicked over complete, he slid back from the bank of monitors, and nodded to Isobel. The security guard took a deep breath and look around briefly before picking up his phone and restarting the television show on his app.

The door clicked shut as the three of them hastened back to Liz’s lab. His hip barked at the hurried extension he placed on his body. With the clock ticking, the discomfort slipped into the box marked ‘to deal with later’. Once the drive was inserted, it was a matter of minutes to set up a scan for vehcile traffic entering and exiting the hospital parking lot. 

Liz dug out a bottle of acetone for Isobel, who accepted it with a small smile and then nodded over to the laptop. “I hope you are having more luck with the security footage, than I am having with this drug.”

“I grabbed everything from the last 72 hours, just in case. It’s possible someone followed Michael to the hospital,” Alex balanced carefully onto the stool, keeping the weight off his prostetic. “I would have found a less populated area for a snatch and grab, but maybe they were worried about Michael’s powers and if so, then likely they scouted the view points of the cameras before they made their move to minimize their exposure. At least that’s what I would have done, if I had discarded the open road or home as possible targets.”

“Well we all know what a paranoid and careful asshole you are, Alex.” Kyle observed, working on a second set of samples. 

“I try not to repeat my mistakes.”

“Like Caulfield?” Isobel asked pointed. 

A sharp stab of pain went through him at the reminder. As if the prison ever left his mind for a moment these days. “Yes, like Caulfield. I should have found a more covert way to gain information than assume it was abandoned. I should have realized my dad had more going on than surveillance on Roswell.”

Kyle touched Alex’s shoulder with a comforting clasp, “At least we know he’s not personally behind this. Master Sergeant's main nurse likes me, she would have called if something had changed.” 

Alex stayed silent, knowing that his next task would be gaining access to the long term rest home in Santa Fe where they had transferred his comatose father after he had attacked Kyle. There had been initial protests regarding the forged records until he had pointed out the other option had been to kill Jesse. 

The classic body Chevy truck flashed on the screen with the timecode marking it as Michael’s arrival at the hospital. Alex paused and marked the frame for reference, then eased through the later clips watching for his exit. There were two cameras concentrated on the parking lot, one at the entrance/exit, and one with a long panoramic view of the lot, primarily to ward off a car thief or would-be mugger. It was grainy in grey scale, but at least he could be thankful that Michael drove such a distinctive truck. The task of finding an unremarkable Honda Prisius would have been daunting.

His hand stilled as he paused the footage on the slow but unmistakable swagger of a figure striding away from the hospital entrance toward the parked Chevy. Michael’s black cowboy hat hid his face but even absent such an identifiable marker Alex was sure could have picked out his body in a sea of others without question. 

Michael reached his truck with no issue, unlocking the driver’s side door. His hand swept off his hat and casually tossed it into the front seat of the cab. Behind him, in the next parking aisle a nondescript panel van, a door opened slid open and a glint peeked out. Michael reached behind his neck, his body half in the truck and slapping at the skin there. 

Alex inhaled sharply, fear and dread rising. It was a terrible thing to watch knowing it had already happened. Two figures dressed in plain dark clothing emerged from the van, and started toward the truck. Michael’s body half fell from the cab, and curled around the front wheel. Alex watched as the two effortlessly brushed off the weak struggles to fight their grasp of Michael’s shoulders, tugging him backward to the waiting van. 

His body was tossed without care into the back, the door sliding shut blocking the last view of Michael. The two men split up from the van, circling around to the front doors. Alex numbly clicked on the frame, saving it, and switched over to the second camera focused on the entrance. 

Watching his brother Flint calmly pay the ticket machine was not much of a surprise at this point. 

“Kyle, I’m going to need you to call your nurse friend to check on my father.” He was proud that his voice was calm and even, despite the rising sickness within. “The good news is, this wasn’t a government issued black ops team that took Michael.”

“And the bad news?” Isobel prompted.

“It was personal, which means they aren’t as invested in keeping him alive.”

* * * * 

[Isobel details their mental bond. That it feels blank]

“I was always closer with Max. I don’t know if it was a twin thing or being raised together, but Michael was always harder to connect with until recently. We’ve been practicing so much together, he started to take up a bit of space here, “ she patted her chest. “Not enough to fill the void where Max was, but enough that I could tell if he was happy or if he was angry. Strong emotions only came through. Lately it was a lot of anger but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on… “

“And now? Do you feel him now?”

Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “It’s empty. Blank. Like it was when we kids before he moved back to Roswell. I think he’s still alive, but he feels very far away, or very weak.”

[Alex waits patiently for the call. He thinks this is going to be an exchange of Michael for his dad, until he realizes his dad is not at the long-term care facility any more]

[Round table discussion at Max’s house to figure out what Jesse wants. Isobel finds out more about the shared past of Michael and Alex- and Maria shows up at the end looking for Michael]

“It’s been 2 days, why hasn’t your dad called with his demands? Is he not reading from the classic villain script this time?” Isobel wondered bitterly. “What is with your family, Alex?”

Kyle injected, “We don’t know that Sergant Manes is involved.”

“Don’t we? He disappeared from the nursing home just before Michael was taken. It seems pretty convenient timing to me.”

Alex pressed his fingers under his eyelids to relieve the building pressure. It had been a long two days of nothing after he received the call that the psuedonmyn he had checked his dad in unrder was no longer a patient in the long-term coma ward in Sante Fe. The staff was calling it a miracle that just after a devoted son had prayed at his bedside, he had woken up. Alex knew it was anything but divine intervention to have Jesse awake and free in the world. 

“Isobel is right, this has Dad written all over it. Somehow Flint found out what had happened and woke him up. It’s been two days because I’m guessing he is still weak from the inactivity.”

Liz stirred from her claimed spot on the couch, cracking an eyelid. “What makes you think there’s going to be a demand, Isobel? Manes has what he wants, a new alien to test and torture. If you look at the research side of things, the aliens in Caulfield were all weak and elderly, and Michael’s a healthy 28 year old. Whatever fucked up weapon he was developing might need a younger test subject.”

“Now there’s a comforting thought.” Kyle muttered. 

“I don’t think it’s research. This still feels personal to me. Michael still has an offensive power to defend himself with, the softer target would have been Isobel if he just wanted an alien to grab.”

“Gee, thanks Alex. Come closer and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on and see if you think I’m still a soft target after I turn your skull into crushed bone.”

***

Alex’s fingers were numb, as he pressed in his code to access his Whatsapp account. Waiting in his inbox was an unknown number and a video attachment. He abruptly dropped into the deck chair as the video opened to his worst fear made real.

Michael’s left eye was swollen shut, blood staining from the corner of his forehead, dripping down his cheek bone. His arms were stretched high above his head, disappearing out of frame. His shirt was missing, and there were sluggishly wounds striping over his shoulder and licking across his collar bone. 

The camera turned, Michael blurring out of view. The monster that starred in seventy percent of his nightmares filled the screen. “Hello, Alex. I was hoping to keep you out of this, son, but this creature is being very uncooperative.” 

Off screen, he heard a weak, “Go fuck yourself, Manes. I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jesse nodded to someone out of frame, and Michael screamed in agonizing pain. Long hiccuping gasps for air puncuated another softer, “fuck you.”

“Like I said, uncooperative. When we last saw each other, you had something that belonged to me. Jim Valenti stole it from our base, and refused to tell me what he had done with it despite my best efforts at persuading him.” 

Michael cried out again, choking on a soft sob. Alex forced himself to watch, drinking in every detail for his later plans. 

“With N-38 gone, I can’t hurt this thing the same way I did dear old Jim so I’ve had to get creative. Electricity just makes some of them stronger, but good old heat and sharp still work on them. We both know you can break its bones with enough force.” Jesse turned, pointing the camera toward Michael again, focusing on the dangling bare feet. “There are more bones per square inch in the foot, than anywhere else in the body. I am telling you this so you don’t doubt my resolve. This thing is relatively harmless for its kind, and I’m willing to return it to you in more or less good condition, if you bring me what Valenti stole. Let me know what you decide to do.”

The video cut off. 

****

There was an expected role to play, like there always was when Jesse Manes was involved. Once it meant peppering his speech with ‘yes sir’ and ‘sorry sir’ and toning down his clothing in hopes of escaping his fists, and when that proved futile, it went in the opposite direction with makeup, nail polish, and piercings.

For all of his proud talk about the service, his father never served anywhere but stateside. His knowledge of tactical defense and enemy counter measures were likely twenty years of date, and Alex was counting on his father’s pride from keeping him unaware of the technology shift. The set up of the Project Shepherd bunker confirmed that.

He tucked his personal side arm into his thigh holster, securing to his left leg and reached for his secondary weapon to slip into his boot strapped to his prosthetic. The weight of the kevlar and vest registered briefly on his shoulders before it slipped into the blank shroud that had enveloped him as soon as he heard Michael’s cries. Knives and a pair of percussive grenades weighed down each side of his pockets.

A floorboard behind him creaked, his gun cleared the holster before his mind caught up on who would have followed him to his cabin. It was a little concerning that the sound of a vehicle hadn’t registered until now.

“Whoa, don’t shoot.” Kyle lifted his hands, halting abruptly.  He took in the dark clothing, combat hardware and the array of weapons spread on the cabin’s table. “I guess we are going full cliche today, good to know.”

Alex dropped his arm away, resecuring his gun. “Then you know what I’m going to say already.”

“Humor me, then. This is a trap, Alex.”

“I’m well aware.” Alex flipped open a black case and pulled out his phone and laptop. Carefully he pulled out three silver discs, and a pair of jeweler’s glasses. He sat down in the chair, slipping the glasses on to peer down at the discs. “I’m going anyway.”

Kyle sighed, aggrieved. “Well I did promise Guerin if he got his ass kidnapped by the government, I would come to his rescue.”

Alex didn’t look up from his work, pressing a small pin on each disc. “You’re not going with me, Kyle.”

“I know this face is distractingly handsome, but tell me you remember all the time we spent on the range together as kids. I can shoot a gun.” 

“Shooting a paper target is different from shooting at a human being.” Each disc beeped softly, then went silent. He pulled the glasses off with a satisfied smirk, “Besides, I need you to come with the cavalry. These are military grade GPS trackers that I’ve linked to my laptop and my phone. Once my father sees I’m there without the piece of the ship, he’ll take me to Michael so he can teach me a lesson.”

“What makes you think your dad won’t find these trackers?”

“I’m sure he will, but I’ve got a back up plan on that as well. My father has underestimated me my entire life. He thinks I am weak, that my emotions and desires cloud my judgment. He’s going to see he was wrong.”

“Alex.” Kyle hesitated, struggling for a moment before taking a seat at the table. He gently laid his hand on Alex’s wrist, stilling the other man. “We all want Guerin back safe but I want you to consider for a moment that your father is right, that your emotions are clouding your judgment. Because what I’m seeing right now is kind of freaking me out, dude. You’re dressed from head to toe in black ops murder gear with GPS trackers, which I didn’t even know you could buy, talking about going in alone, guns blazing, against your dad.”

“I got them on Ebay.”

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?”

“What are my other options, Kyle? He’s got Michael. He’s had him for two days, and there is exactly zero chance he doesn’t want both the UFO fragment and Michael.” Alex wrenched his hand away,. He inhaled deeply and pushed down the swell of thoughts of what had already happened to Michael in two days.

“I agree, but back when I laid him out with barbiturates in our bunker, you and I had a discussion about killing him. I seem to remember we decided against that.”

“No, Kyle, you decided against it and I went along with it. Which was clearly a mistake. This has been a long time coming, okay? He brought this on himself when he took Michael.”

“I knew there was no talking you out of this. I just don’t want you to do this alone.”

* * * 

The lights were all on at the formerly known as Evans-Bracken residence, now just Evans. 

“You look like you’re ready to storm the castle.” Isobel commented, before pushing the door open and turning back into the house. “I still haven’t felt anything from Michael. He could be dead, and all of this would be pointless.”

Alex winced and acknowledged the point before pushing the thought down. “He’s not dead.”

“How do you know? Your so-called cosmic connection?” She sipped from the glass in her hand, the scent of chemicals wafted to him. It was clearly not water.

Gently he wrapped his fingers around her hand, guiding the glass away before resting it on the table next to him. “Maybe, but in reality, if he was dead, my father would have taken someone else as leverage and he would have taunted me with my failure to protect Michael.”

****

[ So as you can see it needs a massive rewrite to fix my characterization- but I still like the plot of Jesse taking Michael for the ship piece- especially since the show fumbled on this so badly in 2x10-2x11. ]

[ghostprincess]

Sweet Things, Ch. 1 (Mysterio x Reader)

I finally got around to posting something. Yay! This has been stirring around my brain for a while, since before the movie came out, and I’m glad I can characterize Quentin as mostly canon. This series’ title will be based off of “Sweet Things” by The Pretty Reckless because I love that song and couldn’t think of a better title. 

Summary: Mysterio kidnaps Y/N Parker as leverage against Peter, as well as because he has taken a liking to her. But the longer she stays with him, the more twisted her reality becomes, until it’s nothing but him. Will Peter be able to save her before it’s too late? Dark!fic, Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con, etc.

Warnings: ffh spoilers, violence, drug/tranquilizer use (but that happens in the movie), uhhh Mysterio is his own warning so??

The notion of chaperoning my brother’s field trip did not strike me as exciting. I dreaded the long flight and the presence of hormonal teenagers. Add in all the shared trauma from the “blip” and it all seemed to create a hearty concoction of disaster.  

However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the trip was not as bad as I thought it would be. One of the new superheroes, Mysterio, had been helping Peter and what was left of SHIELD to destroy a new threat against the planet. He was a man named Quentin, a warrior from another dimension, who had lost his family and his entire planet to these creatures. I guess shared trauma wouldn’t be the word to use here, but given my history of losing my entire family for five years, we had some things in common that made him almost magnetic.

Besides the disastrous attacks of the impossibly terrifying Elementals and the looming threat of the earth’s destruction, I was having a pretty okay time. It wasn’t that Mysterio was pure eye candy… though he was… but he had a very unique personality that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Ever since the night I met him, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His presence was electric, and although he was righteous and tortured and brave, something seemed… off. I suppose that happens when you have to put on a facade to save a planet that isn’t even yours, though. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, or how he somehow hid the pain behind his piercing azure blue eyes.

The sudden sounds of laughter and joyous screams pierced the air around me, pulling me from my daydream and putting me on edge. I was stationed on the grounds of the carnival in order to help the innocent civilians escape the attack that was about to break out. The night seemed normal and fun, as it should be; but I knew that would all end soon. 

Peter’s voice suddenly murmured electronically into my earpiece, confirming his position to Fury and Mysterio.

“Peter, please be careful,” I whispered into the comm, stomach doing backflips. I couldn’t lose him again.

“I know, I will, Y/N,” he responded before being interrupted by Fury’s irritated voice. I took the earpiece out and turned it off, knowing that if I listened to them fight I would either get extremely anxious or accidentally distract them with my big mouth. 

I dropped the earpiece into my shoulder bag and looked around; no sign of trouble yet, just a seemingly normal night of partying at the carnival. People in masks and colorful clothes ran around excitedly and the smells of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air.

No sign of fire or smoke anywhere. Was Beck really sure of the creature’s arrival? 

I looked around again, scanning the crowd for any signs of distress, but found nothing. Except.... one of Peter’s friends, the girl he liked, walked past me obliviously. 

Shit, they’re supposed to be at the opera!

I reached into my bag to report the unexpected arrival into the earpiece, but was interrupted when the ground shook and I nearly lost my balance. The sounds of cracking and sizzling interrupted the carnival music followed by the horrified screams of the civilians. The wind suddenly transformed into a gust of hot air and a large orange mass began to emerge from the ground. 

As the crowd began to scream and run away, chaos broke loose and I was being shoved in the crowd. I pushed back against the swarm of people, desperately trying to push them behind me to safety, making sure I could save as many people as possible.

“Go! Get out of here! Run!” I screamed. A circus tent was mostly blocking my view of the main battle, flashes of molten orange and electric green lighting up the night. The monster’s horrible screams became louder and the ground shook harder as it seemingly gained strength.

The crowd finally parted enough to where I could stand behind a tent and have a good sense of what was going on while staying hidden. I got the last of the crowd out of the way after a few minutes of pushing and shoving them out of the way of falling debris, then stopped to listen to the fight.   

The urge to eavesdrop on the comms between Peter and Beck was overwhelming, especially considering that Beck’s laser-energy blasts sounded almost useless against the creature. I desperately hoped Peter was okay, and my knees trembled as a fear-induced nausea began to wash over me. I looked around the side of the tent just as a large green explosion shook the night sky, the energy of the blast pushing me to the ground. 

Mysterio had done something huge; possibly lethal by the looks of it. The man was no longer hovering in the air and shooting lasers, and the green lights blinded most of my vision. I shielded my eyes and stayed on the ground until the electric zapping noises died down, and the monster’s wails disappeared. 

I looked around the edge of the tent again and saw Peter’s silhouette standing over Beck’s kneeling form, and I immediately ran towards them. He’s okay. He survived.

“Peter!” I yelled in panic, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I-I’m okay, a-are you hurt?” he responded, looking crestfallen despite the victory. 

“I’m fine. Beck, are you okay?” I asked, reaching a shaky hand out to him.

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m alright.” He half-smirked at me and accepted my hand, pulling himself to his feet, his body slightly twisted in pain. I could almost feel Peter’s eye roll, and I didn’t blame him, though I found myself blushing nonetheless.

“Thank you for having his back,” I smiled, pulling the man into a tight embrace. I pulled away as I remembered seeing MJ and my stomach dropped, knowing I hadn’t seen her while I was evacuating the crowd.

“Oh! Peter, I have to tell you, I saw—“

“Y/N, go back to your base. We’re having a mission debrief and it’s need-to-know,” Fury interrupted from behind me. I startled, not even knowing he was there, then sighed.

“Alright. Peter, call me when you get back,” I said. I nodded at Beck with a sad smile and then turned and began the walk from the destroyed carnival back to the hotel. 

Having a younger brother as a superhero had definitely put me in some weird situations, but this has got to be among the top ranked. Especially when said younger brother used to be the same age as me until he was dusted for half a decade. My predicament was unique and exciting but no less terrifying and traumatizing. 

When Peter and May had returned, I had been in denial for days, thinking I’d finally gone crazy, until Captain America himself was brought in to explain to me what had happened. Ever since then, I’d been very protective of Peter, knowing that if I lost him again I would truly not survive. Silent tears escaped my eyes and I quickly wiped them away. 

He’ll be okay. They did it.

The distressed look in his eyes despite his victory begged to differ, and the thought ate at me relentlessly. What could have been wrong? Was he hurt? My heart rate was through the roof and I could feel the panic setting in as I imagined losing him again.

I entered the hotel and walked straight to my room, slipping past the students and two teachers frolicking around the lobby. MJ passed me in the hallway, looking shaken but unharmed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

I entered my room, 131, and I shut and locked the door behind me, finally sinking to my knees and allowing myself to hyperventilate. I couldn’t help but wonder whether the monster was really dead; what if it regenerated? What if another one showed up? Peter could’ve been in danger right now for all I knew, he could’ve…

Throughout the night, my thoughts slowly quieted down. I stood in the shower until the hot water ran out, the too-hot temperature being somewhat grounding and cathartic in my state. After I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I got into bed, the exhaustion finally hitting my body.

Knock knock knock.

I startled, sitting up in the bed and flicking on the lamp beside the bed. The clock read 1:42 AM. The knock had come from the window, and I looked up, seeing the figure floating outside my window. Mysterio. 

I quickly stood up and walked to the window to slide it open. He floated inside and then landed in front of me, the silvery helmet disappearing. His face showed pity and I looked away, embarrassed that he could read me so easily.

“Peter’s alright, I promise. Just got some verbal backlash from Fury, that’s all.” 

“Oh… okay. He never called me when he got back; he got back, right?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Of course. He said something about talking to a girl he likes, so he’s probably just busy.”

“Oh, okay, that’s… that’s good.” I breathed a sigh of relief, falling back to sit on the edge of my bed.

“But how are you? Are you alright? I know it has to be scary, to have all this happening,” Beck said, putting a soothing hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. His gaze was soft but calculated, as if he felt pity but knew what I was going to say before I said it.

“I’m fine. I just… can’t lose my brother again. Everything that happened with the snap, it just… it took its toll, I guess.” 

Beck sat down next to me and wrapped a comforting arm around me. 

“I’m really sorry to have to do this, Y/N.” I looked up at him in confusion.

“What do you m—“ A sharp pain blossomed in the side of my neck and I gasped. Beck pulled the empty syringe out and tucked it into a compartment in his armor, then watched as I tried to stand up. The room was spinning and my body was getting heavier, and I tried to run to the door to escape. What is going on?

Beck grabbed my arm and that was all it took for me to collapse to my knees, my vision slowly fading out. He walked to kneel in front of me and smiled sadly.

“I really am sorry. I’ll explain when you wake up.”

Just then, I heard a frantic banging at the door, and Peter’s voice yelling my name. It sounded distant and echoey, and what direction was it coming from?

“Shhh, don’t want to alert our company,” Beck whispered, and then everything went black.

[foolgobi65]

Bookstore AU, meet messy, “i know that it’s the thought that counts but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it.” - for Urmila/Lakshmana?

k this probably borrows from the characterizations of “sita’s sister” but since the focus isnt on sita and rama we can brush off their whole emotional arc and say it happened while they were getting to know each other, probably on some online forum for sherlock holmes fans or something. i’ve never actually written urmilla or lakshmana before, so you’ll have to tell me if the characterization works!! i think they’d mellow out after a bit, and bond over their shared slightly wicked senses of humor and protective instincts when said instincts arent leading them to clash with each other lol. thank you for the super fun prompt, i hope you like it!!!

---

Urmilla frowns. “These books don’t belong here!” 

Technically, neither does Urmilla -- it’s her sister Sita who’s supposed to be meeting her internet friend/potential lover at the cafe attached to Sita’s favorite bookstore today, the only day Rama is apparently in Bombay before he has to fly back to America where he’s finishing up his MBA. 

“I’m just saying it’s suspicious,” Urmilla had said, watching from her perch on Sita’s bed as Sita tried to find a pair of earrings that would suit the color top she was wearing. She reached for a pair of gold ones, but put them back when Urmilla wrinkled her nose and picked up a pair of silver jhumkas. 

“It’s not suspicious at all,” Sita had responded. “He was only here a week, and spent those days with his family in Ayodhya. I’m just lucky we were able to find the time to meet at all after all these years.” 

“That’s my point! You’ve known each other for years, and you expect me to believe that the first time he manages to find the time to see you in person is for a few hours on the way out? If he really loved you--”  

“Urmilla!” Sita shrieked, dropping the jhumka she had been trying to thread through her left earlobe. “We’re just friends!” 

Urmilla, noting the sky-blue kurta Sita had chosen to wear -- the one everyone had always told Sita made her complexion look particularly lovely -- had rolled her eyes. As always, Sita was too soft for this cold, cruel world and so it fell to Urmilla, her intrepid younger sister to stand watch against all those who would try to break her elder sister’s heart. Sita had told her that under no circumstances was Urmilla to observe her “meeting” with Rama, but Urmilla had only kissed Sita’s cheek goodbye and, a few minutes later, changed her top, put on her glasses, and rode her scooter to the bookshop. 

“And how would you know?” a male voice asks in response to Urmilla’s earlier exclamation. He’s tall, Urmilla notes immediately, and handsome too -- but the expression on his face is slightly incredulous, as if he doesn’t believe that Urmilla could understand the mysteries of the library arts, and Urmilla feels the first tingling of rage at the base of her spine. She’s using a gap between books, the one she supposes the books he’s carrying are meant to fill, in order to spy on Rama and Sita sitting at the cafe table near the register, but, confident that Rama seems in no rush to do anything but stare across his coffee and smile at Sita like a dope, Urmilla turns to face her new adversary. 

“Do you work here or something?” Why else would he be carrying the books, she thinks, but still she’s learning to verify her assumptions before flying off the handle. 

He takes a step forward, setting the books on the edge of a random shelf. “And if I do?” 

Urmilla huffs. “These books are sorted alphabetically, rather than first being grouped by genre.”  

The man crosses his arms. “Genre can be subjective! And what if an author dabbles in more than one -- should I be spreading their work out throughout the store?” 

“Yes,” Urmilla insists, plucking out a romance from next to a robot-fantasy. “I know it’s the thought that counts, but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it! When someone’s browsing for another romantic comedy after enjoying their last one so much, should they just be wandering the store reading spines and hoping for a title that speaks to them?” 

The book leaves Urmilla’s hand, as the man flips it over and reads the back description. “Yes,” he says in return.  

“If you really believe that,” Urmilla says, somehow even more aggravated when this handsome, stupid stranger’s attention is diverted, “then you’re shit at your job and you should probably be looking for a new career.” 

For a moment, she wonders if she’s gone too far: the man looms tall, and briefly seems like he might be genuinely upset. Urmilla, like her sister, is of an average height for South Asian women and is at quite the disadvantage. Her left hand slips into her pocket where she keeps her keys, and the pocket knife attached. 

Almost like he knows what she’s thinking, the anger fades from his expression and he takes a step back. Urmilla exhales, relaxing her grip. 

“I don’t,” he admits sheepishly, “work here, I mean.” He hands her back the book. “I’ve spent the last few hours pretending I do so that I can keep an eye on my elder brother. He’s on a first date, but all of us brothers swear he’s been in love with the girl for years.” 

Intrigued, Urmilla raises an eyebrow. The cafe is a famous spot for first dates amongst a particular set, so it’s not exactly extraordinary that there might be another younger sibling hidden in the stacks. “Friends from college?” 

He snorts. “I wish. He’s never actually met the girl, but they’ve been chatting over the internet for god knows how long. At all hours of day and night too, smiling like an idiot while he types on his phone.” 

Urmilla blinks. It can’t be... “Why haven’t they met?” 

He shrugs. “As far as he’s told me, it’s partially because of her schedule and partially because of his. I think she was abroad when they first met, and then by the time she came back he got the offer to do his MBA in America. During the holidays, they’re both either working or with their families.” 

Sita was in the UK two years ago, Urmilla thinks. And she was working in Calcutta all last summer, so busy that she couldn’t even spare time for Urmilla to come and visit for a day. 

“Oh,” she says, realizing that this might be a golden opportunity. “And what type of man is your older brother? Has he had many girlfriends before this? Would he let his wife work after marriage? Does he watch porn from websites that don’t verify that the actors have safe working conditions?” 

“What,” the man splutters, and yes the last question was probably a little too much. But still, Urmilla thinks, all of these are questions of vital importance when scoping out Sita’s potential boyfriend -- who thinks this is a date! Just friends, Urmilla’s ass! 

“Would he let his wife work after marriage,” Urmilla tries again, deciding for now that she can save the question about his porn habits to ask Rama directly. Now that she thinks about it, Sita had mentioned that he had younger brothers. Pity that Urmilla had never asked Sita about their names. 

“All three of our mothers work!” Rama’s brother exclaims, and Urmilla’s eyes widen in simultaneous shock, horror, and delight. 

“Is your father a polygamist?!” she shrieks, probably smiling in the way Sita always says makes her look deranged. Urmilla just knew there was something wrong with Rama, who Sita always speaks about as if he could thread the constellations if he wanted. Oh, this is too good to keep on the inside. “I knew it!” 

“No!” Rama’s brother bellows back, “Why would you say that?” Too late, Urmilla realizes that bookstores are supposed to be quiet places, where people don’t loudly question other people’s marital habits. When she turns to look back through the gap. Rama and Sita are gone. 

“He wasn’t married to them all at once,” another man’s voice answers, and when Urmilla turns it is Rama who’s speaking, Sita at his side. Her face is flush as a beet, lips trying valiantly to turn down in a frown, but when Urmilla looks at her hand it is tangled up in Rama’s so Sita can’t possibly be that upset. Though there’s still the question of the father. Rama shrugs at Urmilla’s raised eyebrow. “He was just...unlucky in love, for a bit. But he’s been happily married for the last 20 years or so.” 

“Third time’s the charm?” Urmilla never did get an answer about Rama’s previous relationships. 

Rama smiles. “The second, actually. They broke up for about a year, and Father was....not quite at his best, perhaps.” 

Urmilla scoffs, but when presented with an acceptable answer she has no choice but to concede. Sita’s presence prevents her from re-asking some of the more ...necessary but perhaps socially crass questions on Urmilla’s mind. 

“Brother,” Rama’s brother demands, “why on earth are you even entertaining the accusations of this --” Before Urmilla can respond, Rama raises his hand, and immediately, miraculously, his brother falls silent. Point to Rama. 

“For the same reason that you’ve been here hiding away from me since, I assume, the moment you dropped me off at 10 am.” 

“Wait,” Sita interjects, “weren’t we supposed to meet at 12?” Rama blushes as Sita’s smile grows. “Were you really waiting for me all this time?” 

“Yes, yes, he’s very sweet and was worried that he would be caught up in traffic,” Rama’s brother responds, brushing away Sita’s delight in favor of turning to Urmilla and glaring. “But that doesn’t answer my question. I was being a good brother and trying to make sure that your date went as planned.” 

“And that required you poorly impersonate a shop assistant? Think about the amount of work you’ve created for the people who actually work here!” 

“I didn’t want to be kicked out!” 

“No one gets kicked out of a bookstore, you piece of--”

“Urmilla!” 

Now it’s Rama’s brother’s turn to blink as if something has just occurred to him. “Brother,” he says slowly, “didn’t you say she had a sister? Ur-something.” 

The only thing preventing Urmilla from slow-clapping in response is Rama’s gentle, ever-so-slightly put upon smile. “Urmilla,” he says, “might I have the honor of introducing you to my younger brother Lakshman?” 

[scarletwellyboots]

a (semi) comprehensive list of the moments i fell in love listening to the horror and the wild

the rockrose and the thistle

LOVE opening with the howling wind

joey’s northern accent slipping in super strong for “trying desperately to sew / and i know the kindest thing”

madeleine’s almost whispered harmony

“may i, i ask, may i”

the switch to madeleine only for the last two lines

the horror and the wild

how loud and immediate it starts

“you’re the words that i promise i don’t mean”

the growls ! this has been covered but “promise” is. important

the silence for “remember me i ask”

madeleine’s beautiful “day by day” in the back of joey’s verse

FRET NOT DEAR HEART LET NOT THEM HEAR

between “welcome to the storm” and “i am thunder” the drums sound like a clap of thunder

idk music terms but their differing harmonies for “wild”

the strings !! especially how they continue under “remember me”

madeleine’s slower “you passed your fingers” on the last repetition

not finishing “i am the wild”??? letting the instrumentation finish the phrase?? the way the song feels unfinished?? incredible

wild blue yonder

it’s so pretty!! it starts so sunny :)

“without...” “YOU”

“i woulda gone so much blonder” lyrical genius

the build of “so one last time love come and rip my clothes off”

i am in fact a slut for counterpoint duets so i’m in love with this band

“flirting” / “wasn’t flirting”

“halt!” and the silence that follows

the accent on “covers”

listen we talk about “dear heart” but “lover” and “darling” and all the pet names they use are so soft and so delightfully like. fey

“every stone you threw i stood on to better see the view”

the silence after “fear of sound”

“i’m lost” / “i’m found” “in you”

the melody of “so tight i’d bruise you” and like. the lilt in “bruise” !!

i love the background vocals kicking in for “build this world”

“or a robot vampire i dunno” like i said. lyrical genius

“hoooooold melover” i love the drawn-out note followed by how quick the next bit is

so many of their songs feel like they finish on a breath in? they feel like unfinished thoughts and i adore it

welly boots

the soft guitar intro i’m !!

“i am above you and i love you”

“i’ll be with you all along as long as you are kind to those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots” i’m

the lilt on “hard” is !

the melody of the section from “when you scream it’s not fair” to “if only you could hear my voice”

the instrumental coming in before the end of “i’m not still there”

and GOD the percussion and the marching feel of the beat

“you were supposed to be my light” ok just rip my heart out thanks

the melody of “when you scream ‘i’m not alright’” to “how could you leave me here” is the same as “when you scream it’s not fair” but stronger and more desperate

“leave me here” feels like a scream

“i know you’re strong enough to do this on your own”

madeleine’s offset repetition of “strong enough to do this”

sometimes she says “stronger on your own” and i. LYRICS

the slowing to the original drum beat to the original guitar

“oh jesus christ you’ll miss me”

the breathlessness of “stairs” fuck me up why don’t you.

“a brand new pair of scarlet welly boots” cool i didn’t need a heart

the guitar outro is so soft !

farewell wanderlust

hello piano !

EVERYTHING about madeleine’s voice in the first verse

the contrast of joey’s almost spoken baritone

the way she hits the ends of syllables

“hey darlin’ hey”

the slide on “say”

the quiet almost heartbeat-sounding percussion

“i promise you i’ll be better”

the growl on “rubbing” and “rugs”

“it’s my curse / to try and make it right but by trying make it worse”

“the jesus of wishing to christ he’ll come back” !!

the quieting to “farewell wanderlust” and the lilt of it

she’s down DUN DUN she’s dead DUN DUN

joey’s “you alright?” and how deep his voice is compared to hers

madeleine singing “something more comfortable” and joey speaking “be our guest”

the piano mimics madeleine’s voice for “hoik! of her bra”

joey’s voice is so throaty it sounds almost like he’s been crying we love an emotive king

“i promise you i’m not broken / i promise you there’s more / more to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door”

“this here isn’t makeup, it’s a porcelain tomb”

THIS HERE IS NOT SINGING I’M JUST SCREAMING IN TUNE

the lack of instruments for “i’m just screaming in tune” so that he really is

he’s down DUN DUN he’s dead DUN DUN

the quieter “s/he’s down” section at the end

again it finishes like there’s more to be said

fair

the shuffling of the recording noises i !

the breathlessness! how he speaks/whispers “can’t be said”

“today i somehow understand the reason i was born”

“he’s got so much fucking hair” i’m.

“she is stronger than he’s ever been”

“when i’m actually...really fucking...cross at you for something”

“it’s not fair how much i love you” cool okay back to ripping my heart out

“inundated with the fated thought of you” is So pretty

“darling i was born to press my head between your shoulder blades”

“dear heart it’s me” again with the dear heart !!

“just trying to watch the office....with my yoghurt” lyrical genius

the switch of him/her in the second chorus !

the breaks in joey’s voice for unreasonable i’m weeping like ! he talked once about being allowed to feel like his voice doesn’t have to be perfect and it shows here with the breaks lending themselves to the emotion of the song

for him standing next to her people will think he’s alright but people will think she’s cool which really shows characterizations

the whisper of “darling rooftop wreck”

“that’s what she said” i’m.

madeleine only coming in to the song for “where have you been”

“it’s not fair ‘cause you make me ache you bastard”

that unwanted animal

strap in lads

the almost-whisper of some of the lines is !

the actual whisper of “you light the candle”

“bairns” we love two forest spirits

“to love me” is whispered despite “you try so loud” so of course she can’t hear it

joey’s background line !!!

THE SCRATCHING

joey coming into the main melody only for “what.” and then the “dear” being whispered

“throw the plate at the wall” can you tell i really love the whispered lines

THE INSTRUMENTS and the growling background vocals listen it surprised and amazed me so much this is where i smacked my head on the wall

“but fuck all your plans i’m bored” yes characterizations

“i make shipwrecks out of my dress”

joey’s higher harmonization feels so desperate when usually he’s the lower range of the harmony

“you rip my ribcage open / and devour what’s truly yours”

the repeated lyrics from battle cries but in a different melody i’m so serious what a lyrical genius

the melody matching the beat of the guitar for “it can hear you / it wants me to”

(let me out!)

just. the alliterative sounds of “hollow holofernes”

the fucking. “no not i” please sir you can’t do that to me

the final violin note like a final cry

marbles

MARBLES

lowering madeleine’s parts sounds so much softer and more relaxed

love being able to hear the movement of hands along the guitar neck

counterpoint conversation songs are so ! good !

“i chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked”

“you stole the best years of my life” “i’ll give them back”

“sure as hell can’t lie to me/you now”

i LOVE their different melodies for “i will wait and hope”

also i think they switched melody lines from the beechmast version? not sure though

“your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep but a place for crows to rest their feet”

the little pause before “went”

“oh god” and a little laugh

i miss madeleine’s “do you think i’m sexy” but

WORKIN’ SHIFTS TIL WE CRIED listen i LOVE the lyric change

how quick and natural the back and forth is it feels like a quick conversation it’s delightful

“you’re not flawed darling you’re just a little under-rehearsed”

“you, you’d reply with a drink in your hand/glint in your eye”

“i’m all yours/oh dear god dear heart i’m here”

the humming!!

“i’ve loved you for a hundred years” “certainly fucking feels like it”

NOW I GET TO MEET YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME EVERY SINGLE DAY

the build on that line !!

joey’s sustained notes while madeleine sings the chorus

madeleine’s vocalizations !! queen

joey joining in for just one of her little vocalizations

the song finishes before she’s gotten through even the first half of her vocalization line it feels so unfinished but so good that way

battle cries

COUNTERPOINT

with headphones joey is in your left ear and madeleine’s in your right and i wish they did it stronger but even what we have is so good

“who died” “who’ll save you” and the juxtaposition of “who died and made you king of it all” with “who’ll save you when you fall”

“some fictions we took to mean fate believe me i know” and she says “yes” so that they say no and yes at the same time

“tell the truth to me love!”

“look at me as you say this” “you’re home”

the whole “would be proud to have known” especially considering characterization of her speaker and his

dear heart!! it’s just. so soft

“that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain it’s applause”

the little laugh after the chorus!!

“with you i could summon” “come on love”

“watch them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart” / “sing your notes, play your part” and the various meanings of “play” they use

“we were gods” “we were kids.”

“our devils broke ranks” “oh dear god”

“binge watch a box set, drink wine, reminisce” just sounds So Nice

“this isn’t a breakup dear heart it’s a season finale!”

the vocalizations!! the background vocals!!

the back-and-forth of “it’s not pain” “it’s applause”

the drums that quiet to the guitar for the last verse

the way joey hits consonants when he sings quietly like this

the rise and crash of the rhythm here is like. it almost feels iambic can you tell i’m an english major studying renaissance lit currently

“now at the end” “at the end of all things”

ending the album with “i’m doing fine” !!!!!

even now it feels like a single beat off from being finished which is a really cool feeling ! like it leaves you wanting more feeling like there’s more to be said like the story isn’t done like there’s something missing idk big fan

[lirlovesfic]

Silent Night

Pairing: tentoo x rose Rating: K (all ages) Warning: n/a Summary:  While celebrating her first Christmas with the metacrisis Doctor, Rose thinks about her Time Lord.

Notes: Christmas Eve. Bittersweet, moments of fluff, some hurt/comfort. Rose is pregnant, but this is not a pregnancy fic.

Silent Night

The colorful fairy lights strung around the room twinkled gaily, matching the strands that circled the Tyler family Christmas tree. Unlike in the more public areas of the mansion—the grand entrance with its 14 foot white tree, delicate silver and blue ornaments hanging from its limbs and flanked by the twin staircases trimmed in gold and silver garland, so breathtaking that its image graced the cover of a magazine; the ballroom with smaller versions of the tree in the hall in the corners of the room and crystal snowflakes suspended from the ceiling; the formal dining room with its series of frosted wreaths on the walls and coordinating centerpieces on the table—the large living room in the back of the house had not been decorated for the holiday by an interior designer. And it showed. It showed in the mismatched ornaments on the tree, the cheap red and green garland trimming the tops of all the furniture and hanging in long loops from the crown molding, the ceramic figurines of Father Christmas on the mantle. The enormous plush reindeer in the corner that was sturdy enough for even Pete to sit on. The paper snowflakes carefully cut out by a five-year-old with safety scissors and attached to the windows with cellotape.

The personal, loving touches that spoke of family and couldn't be recreated by a decorator, not at any price.

As was tradition in Pete's family, if not in Rose's, Tony had been allowed to open one present that evening. Being five, of course he had chosen the largest, one so large that it had been propped up against the wall because it hadn't fit under the tree. So as Christmas carols quietly played on the flatscreen that hung on the far wall and her mother fussed over Christmas Eve dinner in the kitchen, the Doctor, Pete and Tony sat on the floor putting together an enormous electric train set. It currently circled the entire room, with offshoots that looped around the tree and around the twin leather sofas and under the tables. The Doctor and Pete had charted out the most elaborate path possible with Tony excitedly handing them pieces and crawling under the tables to lay track where the men couldn't reach.

This was what Christmas was about. Not the crass commercialism pushed by businesses trying to improve their bottom lines before the end of the year. Not the gigantic Vitex bash filled with people more interested in networking than in celebrating the season. No, it was the joy of giving. The happiness of a child. Spending time as a family.

Love.

Christmas had always been magical to her. In a childhood often characterized by deprivation, Rose had adored everything about it: the lights and garland suspended over the high street and trimming the eaves of the buildings; the Christmas dioramas in the shop windows, their miniature figures skating on frozen ponds or sledding down snow-covered hills; the music that emanated from every shop and every tube station. Christmas crackers and turkey with all the trimmings. Presents under the tree (particularly a certain red bicycle anonymously given when she'd been twelve). Creches and candles and hymns. The Tylers had never been religious (she could count the number of times she'd gone to church on one hand with several fingers left over) but as much as Rose had loved Christmas in all its secular glory, even as a child she had also loved the quietness, the wonder, the solemnity of the season. The story of the birth of a child in humble circumstances. The idea of divine love made manifest in humanity. Things unseen, things beyond the comprehension of a child.

And as an adult, they were still beyond comprehension. And rightly so. She more than most knew (not just believed but knew) there was more to life than could be seen with the eye, or that could ever be explained away by logic.

As the Doctor quoted frequently, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." This was usually directed at some officious, self-important know-it-all at Torchwood, and as the king of know-it-alls (who usually did know it all) he had no patience for pretension and pomposity in others. But he never directed it at her. Not once. Because that had been apparent to her from that first moment in the basement of Henrik's, when plastic mannequins had come to life before her eyes, and the Doctor had taken her hand and told her to run. No, ever since she'd met him, she'd known that life was madder than she'd ever imagined. Madder than she ever could imagine.

And that was never more apparent than in the current circumstances of her own life, living in an entirely different universe than she'd been born into, married to a man born in the stars whose first act was helping save the multiverse.

From her position on the sofa, Rose watched as the Doctor and Pete debated where to lay the next branch line as they were rapidly running out of floor space in the living room. As Pete counted the remaining unused track and the Doctor calculated whether they had enough to run it out into the hall, Tony climbed into the Doctor's lap, content to let the adults do the planning.

Rose smiled softly. It was at times like these that she felt the most grateful for her life. For her mother and stepfather and brother whom she'd been prepared to leave and then didn't have to give up. For the man who'd stayed, who had taken vows, promising to spend his forever with her. For the child in her womb whom she'd never expected to have and who she already loved more than life itself.

For the one so far away whose self-sacrifice had given them so much.

Unshed tears prickled her eyes as she thought of him, feeling the sharp pain of his absence as keenly as when she'd first lost him. She swallowed hard and attempted to put on a cheerful face in case the others looked in her direction. But from hard-won experience she knew it was an exercise in futility.

All of a sudden it was too much: the music, the lights, the brightly colored decorations and packages and the scent of Christmas dinner and the frenetic energy of her little brother. It was just… too much. Too much sound, too much light, too much color, too much… everything. So while the Doctor, Pete and Tony laid track out of the room and into the hall, she quietly slipped out through the French doors, seeking the silence of the garden.

It was a clear night. They were far enough away from London that the stars were visible, and tonight they looked enormous, twinkling diamonds scattered in a sky of black velvet, echoing the one she wore on her finger. As she watched, leaning against the garden wall, arms hugging herself against the chill of the evening, tiny blinking lights slowly crossed the sky, red and green for the season, the running lights of a lone zeppelin heading to an unknown destination.

It wasn't the first time she'd done this, come out to this very spot to stargaze, to look out at the stars and imagine he was out there somewhere, flying through them in his magical blue box, having adventures and saving the universe. But he wasn't. Not in this universe anyway.

It was at times like these when she wondered if he was okay wherever he was, if he was alone, if he ever thought about them. Wondered what he'd think of their lives on the slow path.

Lost in her thoughts, she had no idea how long she'd been out there when the door quietly opened and closed behind her, and it was only when a coat was wrapped around her shoulders followed by warm arms wrapping around her from behind that she realized how much she was shivering. Long, slender hands gently settled on her softly rounded belly. She laid her hands over his, as always taking a moment to feel the plain gold band on his left hand. She'd thought he was sexy in his glasses, but that was before she'd realized there was nothing sexier than to see her ring on his finger.

"Are you two all right?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. Just hormonal." She sniffed, the sound overloud in the quiet of the night, and smiled wryly.

His arms tightened around her as he kissed her cheek. She knew he knew what she was thinking about, why she was out here under the stars. Because at times like these one thinks of family, particularly absent family, and after all, that's what the other was, would always be.

"Do you think he's all right?" she asked, as if continuing a conversation they'd been having. She knew he knew what she meant, because they'd talked about this many times before, ever since they'd been left on a lonely beach in Norway nearly a year ago. She was so grateful to him: for being so patient with her, for his willingness to talk about the other, and for listening as she worked out her complicated feelings for them both.

"Oh, you know him. He's always all right."

She didn't answer that. They both knew it was a lie.

"I'm being selfish," she said quietly, after a long moment.

"No, you're being yourself: caring, compassionate, couple of other adjectives starting with c…"

Despite herself, the corners of her mouth twisted upward, and she spun in his arms, wrapping her arms around him. He grinned down at her.

"There. Made you smile."

"You always do." She took a deep breath. "'S just, I'm so happy. Somehow it doesn't seem right."

"This is what he wanted for you, to have a fantastic life."

She nodded. "And I do. We do."

"Yes, we do."

She rested her head against his chest and tightened her arms around him, seeking more than warmth from him. Something nameless. Something that felt like forgiveness.

"I just—" Her voice broke and she was unable to continue. Unable to articulate everything she was feeling. Missing the absent one. Gratitude for the gift of this life he'd given them.

Love for them both.

"Oh, he knows," the Doctor said quietly. "He knows."

[goldensfm]

              *    ╰     𝐡𝐢   𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲   𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐬   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐠   𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬    ,   i’m   your   resident   crackhead   steven   forced   out   of   early   writing   retirement   by   miss   rona   but   i   ain’t   complainin   !    🤡    i’m   here   to   bring   you   a   decidedly   non   -   crackheaded   muse   utilizing   the   absolute   goddess   that   is   zendaya   .   like   got   DAMN   𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤   at   her   !   i’m   swimming   with   muse   for   lex   so   i   am   hoping   my   control   freak   ice   queen   offers   some   sort   of   justice   —   i   cant   wait   to   meet   you   all   and   love   you   down   endlessly   !   if   you   could   spare   a   𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭   for   my   validation   ,   i’ll   offer   you   all   my   best   plots   in   return   !   💖

𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕

     ❛   ✶   (   ZENDAYA  ,   CIS   -   FEMALE   ,   SHE   /   HER   )   spotted   !     ALEXANDRIA   ‘   LEX    ’   GOLDMAN   was   spotted   singing   along   to   BOSS   BITCH   by   DOJA   CAT   in   hilton   grove.   you’ve   heard   of   them   right   ?     they   are   a   TWENTY   -   TWO   year   old   ACTRESS   &   ENTREPRENEUR   who   has   already   amassed   a   net   worth   of   $31M.   you   should   really   follow   them   on   insta   @GOLDEN ,   they’re   about   to   hit   39.1M   followers.        the   tabloids   have   been   calling   them   the   EXECUTIVE   because   they   are   known   for   being   +   PURPOSEFUL   but   also   a   bit   -   AUSTERE.  —   ooc   info   (   steven   .   21   .   pst   .   she   /   her   /   they   /  them   .  )

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔

full   name   :      alexandria   (   defender   of   man   )   rochelle   (   little   rock   )   goldman   (   little   golden   one   ) nicknames   :       primarily   goes   by   lex   .   lexie   ,   xan   on   occasion   ,   and   gold   /   goldie   . birthday   &      age   :      september   3rd   /   22   years   old zodiac   :      virgo gender   &   pronouns   :      cis  -  female  ,  she   /   her   /   hers orientation   :       openly   bisexual nationality   :      american ethnicity   :       mixed   race   —   african  -  american   ,   german   ,   irish   ,   english   ,   scottish occupation   :       former   beauty   pageant   competitor   and   2016’s   miss   teen   usa   ,   current   film   and   television   actress   ,   model   ,   business   entrepreneur   ,   and   activist   .   recognized   for   :      starring   in   hbo’s   television   series   euphoria   ,   being   the   first   openly   queer   representative   for   the   usa   in   the   pageant   circuit   ,   her   advocacy   for   feminism   and   criminal   justice   reform   ,   a   bustling   social   media   page   ,   being   one   of   forbes   2019′s   top   30   under   30   . char . inspos  :    meredith  grey  from  grey’s  anatomy   ,   spencer   hastings   from   pretty   little   liars   ,   hermione   granger   from   harry   potter   ,   meghan   markle     ,   angela   martin   from   the   office   ,   alex   cabot   from   law   and   order   svu   ,   and   more   than   anything   ,   claire   from   fleabag   .     𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧   𝐢𝐟   𝐮   𝐬𝐤𝐢��   𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞   ,   𝐢   𝐛𝐞𝐠   𝐨𝐟   𝐮   𝐭𝐨   𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡   𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬   𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨   𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭   𝐭𝐨   𝐠𝐞𝐭   𝐥𝐞𝐱’𝐬   𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞   𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝   𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨   𝟑   𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬   . tropes   :   control   freak   ,   defrosting   the   ice   queen   ,   perpetual   frowner   ,   did   you   think   i   can’t   feel   ?   ,   hidden   depths   ,   stepford   smiler   . aesthetics :    an  intellect  that  remembers  everything    ;    wild  caramel  curls  with  just  enough  composure  to  seem  effortless    ;    a  fear  of  failure   more  crippling  than  life  itself    ;    the  smell  of  fresh  linen  and  lavender     ;     a  color - coded  itinerary     ;     a  perfectly  choreographed  interaction  ,  each  time    ;    lilac  power - suits  and  an  immaculate  composure    ;     unspoken  mommy  issues    ;    tenebrous  ,  intent gazes  swimming  with  the  resonance  of  unspoken  thoughts   ;    ‘ don’t  touch  me  please ‘  syndrome    ;    kicking  out  hookups  before  you  both  fall  asleep    ;    ordering  the  same  thing  at  a  restaurant  ,  every  time    ;    flinching  at  ‘ i love you’s ’    ;    drafting  business  emails  at  the  club     ;    an  admiration  of  atlas  ,  with  the  world’s  weight  upon  your   shoulders .

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

               born   the   sole   continuance   of   the   goldman   name   to   a   mother   whose   pregnancy   was   all   but   a   career   death  -  sentence   ,   lex   bore   the   weight   of   the   world’s   expectations   on   graceful   shoulders   from   the   moment   she   came   into   the   light   .   lieutenant   olivia   goldman   ,   head   of   the   manhattan   police   department   ,   can   deny   the   salacious   accused   affair   with   the   district   attorney   until   she’s   blue   in   the   face   but   can’t   deny   the   consequence   of   their   tryst   ,   alexandria   being   a   painful   reminder   of   losing   nearly   all   her   mother’s   years   of   hard   work   while   her   father   simply   denied   her   existence   and   lived   none   the   more   guilted   .      from   the   start   ,   the   odds   were   stacked   against   the   goldman   progeny   ,      pushing   perfection   as   her   only   claim   to   some   semblance   of   attention   from   liutenant   goldman   .

             as   a   mixed   race   child   to   a   white   unwed   mother   in   law   enforcement   ,   working   80   hours   weeks   and   having   spent   years   building   her   career   ,   there   was   little   lex   saw   of   her   mother   that   wasn’t   something   resembling   exhaustion   or   utter   disinterest   .   this   forces   her   to   grow   independent   at   an   astounding   pace   ,   keeping   to   herself   as   to   not   bother   her   mother   with   her   own   whims   or   desires   .   at   12   ,   her   mother   is   courted   by   an   award   -   winning   director   who   requests   her   guidance   on   a   police   film   he’s   submitting   —   she   refuses   to   advise   on   the   film   ,   but   goes   to   dinner   with   him   as   a   courtesy   ,   and   they’re   married   a   year   later   in   a   lavish   hamptons   wedding   in   the   summer   .   rudy   delano   is   a   world -renowned   director   along   the   likes   of   steven   spielberg   ,   and   takes   to   lex   like   she   were   his   own   daughter   .   as   if   to   balance   out   olivia’s   coldness   and   detachment ,   he   showers   lex   in   adoration   and   support   ,   encouraging   her   to   pursue   her   interests   of   pageantry   when   she   voices   them   following   her   7th   grade   year   .  

              considering   a   lifetime   spent   nitpicking   and   pushing   her   own   facade   of   complete   calculation   ,   she   takes   the   pageantry   world   by   storm   and   it   seems   the   rest   of   her   life   falls   into   place   .   a   perfectionist   in   every   sense   ,   she   maintains   nothing   short   of   flawlessness   throughout   high   school   (   taking   on   student   council   co-president   ,   heading   several   clubs   ,   and   one   of   four   school   valedictorians   )   and   goes   on   to   compete   in   the   most   elite   of   pageantry   circuits   .   her   advocacy   for   marginalized   populations   was   a   major   platform   and   propelled   her   to   miss   teen   new   york   and   soon   after   ,   miss   teen   usa   .   in   the   live   aired   interview   segment   ,   perhaps   among   the   most   important   moments   of   her   life   ,   lex   makes   a   rare   slip   and   accidentally   comes   out   as   bisexual   when   asked   about   the   LGBTQ+   mental   health   crisis   in   her   home   state   of   new   york   .   this   leads   to   lex   becoming   the   first   openly   queer   miss   teen   usa   ,   and   would   have   likely   fared   well   if   she   were   to   have   continued   ;   despite   its   progressions   ,   the   pageant   world   of   sponsorships   seems   to   lag   behind  ,   and   the   ‘   controversy   ’    of   her   coming   out   led   to   her   leaving   the   pageant   world   for   good   .   

              on   her   own   two   wobbly   feet   ,   she   continues   with   her   advocacy   and   finds   herself   excelling   in   the   business   element   of   it   all   ,   going   on   to   obtain   her   business   degree   from   columbia   while   taking   on   the   big   screen   in   a   blossoming   film   career   at   the   encouragement   of   her   step   father   .   she   shoots   to   stardom   upon   the   release   of   euphoria   ,   paired   with   a   strong   social   media   presence   ,   a   thriving   modeling   career   ,   and   a   brand   that   becomes   recognized   as   a   household   name   synonymous   with   advocacy   and   entrepreneurship   .

𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

              perhaps   lex’s   most   notable   quality   is   being   driven   by   an   unyielding   fear   of   failure   and   mediocrity   .   there   is   no   task   small   enough   that   lex   will   not   accomplish   to   the   best   of   her   execution   ,   and   if   she   can’t   ensure   perfection   ,   she   will   refuse   to   give   it   an   attempt   at   all   .   this   all   or   nothing   attitude   stems   from   an   obscene   obsession   with   control   and   remaining   in   control   ,   something   those   around   her   are   all   too   aware   of   .  

              despite   a   rather   charming   and   gregarious   disposition   on   the   red   carpet   ,   many   will   note   that   lex   is   incredibly   reserved   when   meeting   her   in   real   life   .   the   pageantry   training   has   kicked   in   to   give   her   a   facade   to   push   when   she’s   in   the   spotlight   ,   though   her   true   disposition   is   much   less   play   and   much   more   work   .   she’s   stoic   and   serious   ,   knowing   just   what   to   say   at   what   time   to   continue   the   narrative   that   she   is   completely   in   control   .   cool   and   calculated   ,   her   affect   is   usually   stern   and   unwilling   to   reflect   any   sentiment   of   softness   or   goofiness   —   many   business   associates   note   her   absolute   maturity   and   rationality   even   at   the   tender   age   of   22   .   her   energy   ,   as   subdued   as   it   may   be   ,   commands   the   room   with   a   power   of   self-assuredness   that   only   stems   from   a   confidence   rooted   in   something   to   back   it   up   .   she’s   an   elderly   woman   in   a   millennial’s   body   ,   and   this   tends   to   show   in   her   dry   wit   humor   ,   relative   moodiness   ,   and   general   propensity   for   wanting   things   done   exclusively   her   way   .

              lex’s   intellect   has   always   been   a   strong   suit   of   hers   ,   a   photographic   memory   that   allowed   her   to   glide   through   school   with   the   least   of   struggles   .   astute   and   well   -   spoken   ,   monotone   and   unlikely   to   crack   in   her   stony   temperament   ,   she’s   a   force   of   nature   to   be   well   reckoned   with   .   luckily   ,   lex   shows   little   to   no   interest   in   engaging   with   petty   drama   and   tends   to   keep   in   her   own   lane   ,   losing   interest   nearly   immediately   in   the   mindless   pettiness   some   of   her   friends   wrap   themselves   up   in   .   rational   ,   arguably   to   a   fault   ,   lex   has   a   bad   habit   of   censoring   herself   and   limiting   her   own   commentary   when   in   the   company   of   anyone   she   needs   to   maintain   her   reputation   with  ;  close   friends   ,   on   the   other   hand   ,   will   easily   characterize   her   as   blunt   and   straightforward   ,   almost   too   aggressive   with   her   honesty   for   her   own   good   .   though   she’d   rarely   voice   it   ,   she   has   an   undeniable   superiority   complex   stemming   from   a   recognition   that   whatever   she   does   ,   she’s   incredibly   good   at   (   ignoring   her   unwillingness   to   step   out   and   try   anything   outside   her   comfort   zone   .   )

              this   is   the   curious   dichotomy   of   alexandria   goldman   ,   considering   one   of   her   most   notable   flaws   is   her   unwillingness   to   invest   .   despite   being   perhaps   overly   honest   ,   the   moment   a   conversation   (   or   relationship   )   runs   the   risk   of   becoming   too   emotionally   risky   ,   she   shuts   down   .   flames   have   been   ghosted   ,   relationships   have   been   ended   ,   and   friendships   have   been   cut   off   simply   because   lex   deemed   them   to   be   a   danger   to   her   mission   of   remaining   in   complete   control   of   herself   and   her   life   .   the   select   few   that   have   plowed   through   lex’s   rather   prickly   initial   interactions   have   earned   themselves   a   friend   forged   from   gold   ,   loyal   to   a   fault   and   ready   to   drop   anything   at   a   wind’s   blow   to   aide   those   she   loves   most   .   defensive   and   ornery   ,   the   pageant   girl   facade   soon   blows   over   to   reveal   an   anal   retentive   ,   emotionally   stunted   grandmother   who   loses   her   lid   over   the   most   minute   of   inconveniences   if   they   step   out   of   her   pre-established   plans   and   routines   .

              hiding   beneath   her   layers   of   fake   smiling   at   redundant   questions   ,   unapproachable   hostility   and   being   an   otherwise   unmeltable   ice   queen   ,   lex   harbors   a   deep   intensity   that   overcomes   her   when   allowed   to   reign   (   and   very   rarely   is   allowed   to   reign   )   .   she   does   not   invest   in   small   doses   and   despite   the   relative   unlikelihood   of   her   allowing   a   distraction   such   as   a   relationship   ,   the   few   she’s   had   have   been   intense   whirlwinds   led   by   lex’s   own   inability   to   limit   herself   —   she’s   all   ,   or   she’s   nothing   ,   but   nowhere   in   the   middle   .