#we stopped being able to fit in and became 'inconvenient' for people to be around

[confused-stars]

autistic Childe headcanon works because he used to be the quiet kid who wished desperately that he'd be swept away into a grand story he could live in

except then something so traumatizing happened to him that he no longer quietly daydreams about it, he unapologetically builds a construct of this dream in real life (and does not acknowledge that it's deeply flawed)

(i do wonder if holding onto that dream was what kept him fighting in the Abyss and if it's all he has left/believes he has left after. if he convinced himself that hey, at least he kind of gets to be a dashing hero even if it cost him his childhood. he's just fifteen weird ass coping mechanisms in a trenchcoat anyway)

[malum-forev]

Try Anything Once

BuckyBarnes x Reader

Bucky finds himself at the worse place, the doctor’s office. But maybe it isn’t as bad as he thought.

Word Count: 2.6k

There were many things that brought James Buchanan Barnes rage, but at the top of his list was his mechanical arm. It was bad enough that it was a constant reminder of who he was, who he was created to be, but now due to a technical failure, it was even more of an inconvenience.

“I already told you that it’s fine.” He muttered at Sam, trying to open and close his palm, with no avail.

“Yeah, and if I were blind, I would believe that. You need to get that thing fixed. Maybe it just needs some motor oil.” He said followed by a loud laugh, only making Bucky’s eyes roll. “I already reported it to the medical department, anyways.”

“What are doctors going to tell me about this thing, it’s not flesh. They don’t know anything about it.”

“Well, I mean, we do have the best doctors in the world. I think they know something about that contraption.” Sam replied, standing up from his position and traveling to the front of the airplane to see how long it would take them to get back to the compound.

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to calm the bubbling anger that was filling him up, almost to the point of explosion. It was supposed to be the best, why would it be giving him trouble. Subsiding his anger, he thought that maybe he would have to go to Wakanda to get it fixed. Maybe he would even have to stay there for some time, he could only dream of that. In the past 80 years, that was the only time he felt something close to peace. Forcing his eyes to open, he realized that the plane was descending. Looking out the window, he saw what he dreaded the most. A team of people in white bathrobes.

“Doctors.” Bucky huffed in annoyance.

As he made his way through the white corridors with fluorescent lighting, he could hear at least three pairs of feet shuffling behind him. He could almost sense they were too nervous to ask him any questions. He stopped at the end of the hallway and waited for three seconds before turning around to face them.

“Well? Are you going to open this stupid door, or do I have to break it to get this thing fixed?” He yelled, not feeling anything as he saw the three young doctors shake and vigorously nod their heads. The tallest one, she couldn’t be a day older than 25, quickly entered the access code and opened the door. Revealing a large waiting room with one assistant behind a desk. He heard the elevator music first, after that came a whiff of something. Some kind of flower Bucky couldn’t recognize.

“I have an appointment.” Was the only thing he said as the assistant moved his eyes away from the computer and saw the former Winter Soldier. He was different, he wasn’t scared of Bucky.

“Name and date of birth please.” He asked kindly as he faced back to the computer.

“This must be a joke.” Bucky said, as he watched the assistant’s motionless expression, he realized it wasn’t. “James Buchanan Barnes, March 10th, 1917.”

“Thank you, Dr. (y/l/n) will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?” He smiled again, only enraging Bucky even more. He decided no answer was needed. After about two minutes, he saw the door swing open and a field agent came out first.

“Thank you so much Doc.” She smiled, Bucky had seen her before if he remembers well, she even introduced herself. But like always, he never remembered anyone’s name. She smiled as she passed him, and he just nodded back. After the agent, a woman in that dreaded white bathrobe came out. Average build, fragile looking, late twenties, it would take me less than two seconds to knock her off the ground. Bucky thought, immediately erasing the thought from his mind, something his therapist had taught him to do.

“Mr. Barnes, please come inside.” She said, her voice was extremely peaceful and calm. Everything about her seemed that way. It was as if one of those singing birds from Snow White had come out of the storybook and became a human. Bucky followed her into her office and sat down, looking at the pendulum sitting on top of her neatly organized desk. Swinging back and forth infinitely. “You’re here because your arm is giving you trouble?”

“The metal one.” Was the only thing he said, she just nodded and motioned him to sit on the exam table, “I’m not laying on that. I’m not five.”

“You’re obviously not five, you were born in 1917.” She quickly replied. “If anything, I should have you sitting on a wheelchair, or one of those reclining chairs they have elderly people in. I need you to lay down here to check your prosthetic. I also need you to remove your jacket, and anything that would obstruct me from performing my analysis.”

With a quick glare, he followed her instructions. He took his jacket off and without thinking twice, ripped the sleeve from his t-shirt.

Laughing a bit, the doctor started contorting his arm in different directions. “You superheroes really have a passion for all things dramatic. You could have taken off your shirt.”

“This was easier.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she said before pressing on a disk near the arm’s wrist. Gaining a hiss from the former assassin.

“Could you just stop.” He said in an annoyed tone. “I’m just here because your people were waiting for me once I got off the damn plane. Now stop messing with it before you break my arm.”

With one swoop motion, he was back on his feet. “This is made from an incredible rare material. Something that they probably didn’t even know existed at whatever school you got your degree from. Which one was it?” Bucky said, getting more and more angry as he saw the doctor didn’t even flinch at what he was saying. He started looking around the walls to see where she had that paper framed. The one every doctor likes to display, as if it was some sort of badge.

“I don’t have a medical degree. You can say this comes,” Dr. (y/l/n) took a pause. “Naturally to me.”

Bucky let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not going to have some random person who couldn’t even finish med school looking at my arm. It’s probably more expensive than everything you own.

Dr. (y/l/n)’s expression didn’t change, the small smile still on her mouth. “Pepper’s team warned me about you, Mr. Barnes. They said you were, difficult.”

“Difficult.” Bucky scoffed as he leaned on the medical table, he watched the doctor move back behind her desk. Typing something on her computer, the printer slowly coming to life, sending out a small piece of paper.

“Well, they actually said you were a huge pain. Difficult is just the word I choose to use.” She adjusted her glasses and read what was on the paper, taking out a pen and signing it.

“It really shows that after Steve left, this place started hiring just about anybody. Their whole system is going to fall apart if they keep uncredited people here.” Bucky spat out, aggravated at the mere thought that Sam would have sent you here with her.

“You’re not completely wrong with that statement. But I don’t think it was after Steve, it was before that. At one point they even recruited brain washed assassins.” The doctor replied with a grin on her face, only making Bucky’s blood boil even more. “Try this, it will help with regaining mobility.”

Bucky ripped the paper out of the doctor’s hand, crumpling it up and shoving it in his back pocket. Turning around to leave the office.

“Oh and Mr. Barnes, you have to come back to finish the assessment before you can go back into the field. Those are the orders stated by Mr. Wilson.” Again, that smug smile adorning her face. Does she always have something to say? Bucky thought as he stormed out of the medical building, heading straight to Sam’s room. He was going to hear what Bucky had to say about that know-nothing fake doctor.

Bucky heard Sam’s laugh before he actually saw him, as the automatic doors opened, he saw that the laughter was directed towards him.

“I’m guessing by your angrier than usual glare, you saw (y/n).” Sam said with a gigantic smile.

“Was that some sort of prank? You hired a fake doctor only for me to go and waste my time?” Bucky asked as he strode past him walking straight into the kitchen.

“What did you have planned for the rest of the day? Sitting on the corner of your bed at three pm, standing in a corner at four and do your hair at five? I know you do your hair, it’s impossible for it to always be perfectly imperfect.” Sam said shooting Bucky a questioning gaze, but he just rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “And what are you talking about fake doctor? Please tell me you let her do her job, if not I can’t let you come on the mission tomorrow.”

“Of course I didn’t, tomorrow I’m going to see an actual doctor to get a stupid note that says I’m fine! Even though I’m telling you right now that I’M FINE.” He yelled as he smashed down the bottle, making it as flat as a piece of paper.

It was at this specific moment that F.R.I.D.A.Y. said: “Bucky Barnes, you have an appointment with your therapist tomorrow at 11:30 am. If you were to miss this appointment, you will be sanctioned and will not be able to assist on missions.”

This obviously sent Sam on a fit of laughter. “That message couldn’t have come at a better time. Anyways, you need to get your appointments aligned. I suggest you go to the Doc’s office tomorrow morning to see if she has anything available.”

“Just send me the actual doctor’s office and I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Bucky, I don’t know who got it into your head but, (y/n) is an actual doctor. That why she’s Dr. (y/l/n) and not just (y/n).”

“She was the one who told me she’s not credited. She doesn’t even have a medical degree, let alone know anything about vibranium!” Bucky said throwing his hands up in the air.

“You don’t have a degree but that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of being an ass. And an annoying one too!” Sam said, getting frustrated with the conversation. “Look, Dr. (y/n) has been here for a long time, she knows what she’s doing. Maybe you don’t know anything about her because you were frozen for half of your life and the other half you spent being a cyborg assassin. Also, she was one of the first people to handle vibranium when it was found in Wakanda, so I think she knows something about that. She even spent some time in a hut over there, just like you! You have more things in common than you think. So, tomorrow you’re gonna get her some coffee, go to her office, apologize for being, well, you; and get that arm fixed. In the meantime, you can look up some things about her. You do remember how to google things right?”

“Of course I remember. Could you just help me get on the net?” Bucky said while holding out his phone, it was now Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

--------

The next morning, Bucky reluctantly made his way back to the medical building. The two disposable coffee cups were almost knocked out of his hands when the doors swung open.

“Back already Mr. Barnes?” he heard Dr. (y/l/n) say, it surprised him that she would talk so casually with him, given that yesterday he was, difficult. “Should I put down extra thirsty as a side effect on your chart?” She asked pointing to both of the cups.

“Actually Doctor, one of them is for you. I didn’t know what you drank so one is a black coffee and the other one has a splash of milk and sugar. Sam told me you would accept coffee as an apology, some sort of olive branch.” Bucky said, shoving both of the cups near her for her to choose.

“You can take me to get coffee instead. Judging by the stale smell, this is day old coffee. Plus, I don’t think you have tried oat milk lattes.” She smiled as she guided him to the restaurant inside the compound.

“Oat milk wasn’t a thing in the 40’s.” Was all that Bucky replied. “I wanted to formally apologize. It’s something new to me, my therapist says I should externalize my feelings more. I did not know your past; you know with the whole regenerative thing.”

This was the first time he saw her not smile. She looked away for a moment and asked “Did you try what I told you. It’s a type of oil that seeps into the smallest indentations in vibranium, creating a protective layer. With that, and some rehabilitation exercises, you will feel as good as new.”

Bucky just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his less than normal extremity. He opened his mouth to ask her, but she interrupted. “I know what you’re going to ask me. I may not be able to read minds but this profession has taught me many things, one of them being how to read people’s expressions.”

“Can you still do it?” He pressed on, if what he had read was true, then she was probably one of the only people that could understand what he was feeling.

“Yes, of course I can. As a supersoldier I would think you understood. It’s not something that you can just turn off, it’s here forever.” She said pointing to her whole body. “I didn’t want this; I didn’t ask to be able to regenerate. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and with the wrong people.”

“I researched you last night.” Bucky admitted shooting her a shy smile.

“Didn’t think you were tech-savvy.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. “That was a long time ago, she’s long gone. I thought what I was doing was the right thing. And he, he convinced me that it was. But alas, I was only some sort of protection. Receiving the bullets that would wound him and healing the cuts that would kill him. But after I realized all the damage, we were actually doing I, I found this place. And from there on I decided I was going to heal other people. Even if they couldn’t regenerate.”

“I can relate.” Bucky said, slouching back on the bench they were sitting on, a weird feeling appearing inside of him. Something that he wasn’t used to, relaxation and peace. “I appreciate you not flipping out yesterday, I was out of line.”

“I’ve dealt with worse people here.” She laughed. “I looked at your videos fighting. You need to take better care of that arm of yours.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me Doc, had I known I would have smiled at the camera.” Bucky said shooting her a smile, it was the first time she had seen him actually do that.

“It’s my job to check my patient’s whole file.” She explained but couldn’t resist to smile back. “And you can call me (y/n) by the way.”

“In that case, call me Bucky.”

[goddesswritings]

Sins of Lovers - Colby Brock | Part One

Title: Sins of Lovers – Part One

Pairing: Colby Brock x Reader

Summary: Y/n has had a crush on Colby since middle school and now it’s ten years later when he comes back into her life. He’s back in the most unexpected way and the most unexpected of things happens between the two of them.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Warnings: Cheating parents, divorce, bullying, horrible parenting, moody Colby. 

This is an old fic that I think fits Colby. Enjoy.

MASTERLIST

********

Colby Brock. A guy that had been your crush since eighth grade, when he’d moved to town. There was something about him that called you back to him time and time again. He was a kind soul with a passion for life. He was someone you felt you could get along with.

But his whole attitude changed when the two of you started high school. He quickly became cold and rude. Quickly climbing the social ladder to join ranks with the most popular students in the school. These were the same people who bullied you and your friends.

It should have ended your crush on him, but it didn’t. The crush only seemed to grow as you watched him from afar. You would catch glimpses of the old him from time to time, which gave you hope that he was still in there.

Sophomore year, his attitude worsened, and he grew meaner to the people around him. News got around that his parents had divorced because his dad had been having an affair behind his mother’s back. It was also known she left town and now he was stuck with his father. He began to join in on the bullying, proving his new standing in school. During this time, you still watched him and searched for glimpses of the old Colby. They were becoming far and few.

Junior year, he started dating Paige Marcus, the IT girl of the school. All the boys wanted her and most of the girls wanted to be her. She was your personal tormentor and she had been for years. She’d taken a dislike to you in fourth grade, when you got the lead in the class play that year. That girl hated you more than anyone thought was possible.

It was a real heartbreak the first time you’d seen Colby and Paige walking hand in hand down the hallway. Your smile had faded, and you wanted to just cry. All over a boy who had never taken a notice to you. Especially because you were just some nerdy girl and he was now popular.

One day, you had been late to school, so you had to rush to get to class. As you ran through the hallway to get to class in time. You ran into Colby, literally. You collided hard with his built form, falling onto your ass.

Colby just simply looked down at you and laughed. “You should watch where you’re going, nerd.” He growled when anger flashed through his eyes.

Paige was hanging on his arm and glaring at you, as per usual. “Yeah loser, you really should watch where you’re going. My boyfriend didn’t need to be inconvenienced by you.” What was she? Colby’s parrot?

Paige laughed and kicked my books across the hallway. Colby laughed along with her, and pain flashed through my chest. “There better not be a next time.” He grumbled before stepping over you and walking away with Paige beside him.

Tears welled up in your eyes, misting up your glasses. You had been so embarrassed that day. You’d hoped it would end your crush on him, but it didn’t.

Senior year, Paige set out to personally destroy you at every chance she got. Colby was by her side each time, laughing along with her. That year was absolute hell for you. There was no escape from Paige’s wrath.

The worst day nearly broke you.

It was the middle of January and it had just snowed, making the town a frosty wasteland. There was a fire drill shortly after third period began and everyone was ushered out to the cold.

You stood with your class minding your own business when Paige approached you, dragging you from the other students. You’d struggled against her, not knowing why she had pulled you away.

“What do you want?” You asked while her nails dug into your arm.

“Just teaching you a lesson.” She said as you stopped next to a huge frozen snow bank.

“Why do you have to do this to me, Paige?” You questioned when she stole your glasses from your face. “No, give those back.” You attempted to reach for them, but the blurriness had taken over. As you were about to grab them, she threw them to her friend, Cassie. So you moved to get them from her, but she was keeping you from being able to retrieve them.

“Give me my glasses!” Your voice was loud because you were angry the snickering bitches had stolen them from you.

Suddenly, Cassie dropped them to the ground and stepped on them. A crunch could be heard as she ruined your chance for clear vision.

“Oops, my bad.” Cassie spoke while she continued to wreck your glasses.

“Stop! Why are you doing this?” Tears had begun to gather in your already blurry eyes.

“Oh look, we have a cry baby on our hands.” Paige taunted before pushing you towards the ground.

Your left hand went out to catch you, making contact with the frozen ground before your body weight came crashing down onto it. A sharp pain shot through your wrist, making you cry out as the pain hit. Paige and Cassie were just cracking up the whole time.

The world was blurry around you as you lifted your hand from the ground. Pain radiated through your arm, starting from your wrist.

“What are you guys doing?” A familiar voice cut through the two girls’ laughter. It was Colby and you were afraid he was here to join in on the torture.

“Oh baby, we were just teaching Y/n a lesson.” Paige answered in a supposedly sweet voice, but anyone could hear the venom hidden in her words.

“By breaking her glasses and hurting her?” He suddenly sounded mad.

“It’s just a joke.” Paige tried to sound like it wasn’t as big problem.

“Hurting people isn’t a joke, Paige!” He was yelling now. Then he was beside you, bending down to your level. “Are you okay, Y/n?” You couldn’t really see him all that clearly, but you could tell he was looking at the wrist you were clutching to your chest.

“No, it hurts a lot.” You whimpered as the pain continued to shoot through your arm.

“Okay, let’s get you to the nurse.” He was gentle as he helped you up from the ground.

“Why are you helping her?” Paige was now frustrated.

“She needs help.” He stated as he bent down to pick up your broken glasses from the ground.

“She’s not one of us, Colby, just leave her alone.”

“No, get out of the way.” He pushed by her and Cassie while leading you towards the school. The fire drill was over at this point.

It was quiet between the two of you as he led you through the hallway full of students who were headed back to class.

“Thank you for helping me.” You said to Colby, in a soft voice.

“Don’t mention it. Paige is a bitch a she needs to be put in her place.” He spoke as you walked into the nurses office. Once again, you had seen a glimpse of the old Colby which only proved to you that he was still in there.

You ended up having to go to the hospital, much to your mothers dismay. It was a serious inconvenience for her to leave work to take you to the hospital. She practically yelled the whole drive there. Your broken glasses were another yelling point for her. At the hospital, it was determined your wrist had been broken, which only angered her further. Not that any of it had been your fault, but she claimed you’d been the one to evoke the girls in the first place. Your mother and you weren’t particularly close.

After that incident, Paige and Colby had called it quits and Paige blamed you, of course. The rest of your senior year was pure hell for you, thanks to Paige and her friends.

You were more than happy to get away from there, luckily. You had received a scholarship to a college three hours away and your father’s house was twenty minutes from it, so you stayed with him. College was lonely for you, though. Because you weren’t all that great at making new friends and your father was always away for work, or on vacation with his new wife. A wife who didn’t like you much either.

Throughout it all, your crush on Colby never once faded. You didn’t know if it ever would.

****

10 years from the time you first began to like Colby, you were returning back to your mother’s house. You’d graduated from college and found a job close to her place, and thankfully she was letting you come back. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be there long before you found a place for yourself. You couldn’t help but to feel nervous about being back at her home. It would bring back memories of high school and Colby, but you highly doubted that he still lived in town.

You pulled into your mother’s driveway, staring at the sage green house in front of you. You’d grown up in this house. Your father had once lived in this house with you. The house held so many memories for you. Good and bad.

Sighing, you finally got out of the car and grabbed your bags from the back. You slowly made your way to the front door and let yourself into the house. Immediately, the aroma of cooking food filled your nostrils. Odd. Your mother hated to cook. You put your bags by the stairs and went to the kitchen. You found your mother standing in front of the stove wearing a blue dress. She never wore dresses.

“Hi mom.” You said getting her attention.

She turned around with a huge smile. “Hello honey. How was the drive back?” She had abandoned the stove to pull you into a hug.

“The drive was fine. What are you dressed up for?”

“Oh honey, I’m so excited. I’ve been seeing this man for a few months now and I’ve invited him and his son to dinner to welcome you home.”

This surprised you. Your mother had never successfully dated since your father left her.

“Yes okay, wow. Congrats mom. I look forward to meeting them.” You honestly were.

“I think you will like him, and his son is about your age and just a sweet young man.”

“Well I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you baby. You should go get settled in. They will be here in about an hour.” She then sent you off towards the stairs. The person you were just talking to was definitely not the person she was before you left for college. You purposely didn’t come home to visit all that often because you were afraid of who you would come home to.

After a quick shower, you sat at your counter to do your makeup. You were happy that you no longer had to wear glasses, because two years ago, your dad had gifted you laser surgery as a sorry for never being around. He still wasn’t around after that though, but you learned to expect that from him. After he left, you weren’t really much of a thought in his head.

You decided on a nice purple dress of yours and a pair of flat black booties for your feet and left your room. When you were halfway down the stairs, the doorbell went off.

“Y/n, could you get that?” Your mother asked from the kitchen.

“Yes.” You said, stopping in front of the door.

You flung open the door, instantly panicking as you saw who was on the other side. Colby Brock beside an older man, that must be his father. Your mom was dating his dad.

“Hello, come on in.” You moved out of the way so they could enter the house. Colby’s eyes were glued to you, which sent chills through your body. Oh god, tonight was going to be hell.

Your mother exited the kitchen and pulled Colby’s dad into a kiss. You grimaced and turned away from the scene. “Y/n sweetie, I want you to meet John Brock and his son Colby.” She introduced the men to you.

“I went to high school with Colby.” Colby was way hotter than you remember him being. He was sexy, tall, and muscular. He had this really sexy dyed blue hair upon his head. The man was perfect.

“Oh really? Do you remember her being so clumsy in high school? Her senior year, she broke both her glasses and wrist all in one day.” Your mother’s words made you blush in pure embarrassment.

“If I remember correctly, Y/n had her glasses stolen before she was pushed into a snowbank. So it wasn’t her fault.” Colby defended you, shocking you.

“Oh, looks like you had a friend in high school, Y/n.” You face grew red now.

“I think dinner is done. I’m going to go set the table.” You quickly dismissed yourself and ran off to the kitchen to grab the plates and silverware. You desperately hoped your mom wasn’t going to keep embarrassing you throughout dinner.

You were setting up the plates when your mother entered the room, followed by Colby and his father. You idly wondered if Colby had a girlfriend.  He had to have a girlfriend with how sexy he was.

“Thank you, Y/n. Can you grab the food for us?” She questioned while already being seated next to John.

“I’ll help you.” Colby said while following you into the kitchen. “How are you doing, Y/n?” He questioned.

You pulled the food from the oven and set it on the stove. “I’m alright. Not too thrilled to be back at my moms, but it’s okay.”

“I know what you mean. Living with my dad is hard. But I haven’t seen him much since he’s been seeing your mom.”

You began to put the other food into bowls for the two of you to carry. “How long have they been dating?” Your mother never said a length of time, only that she was dating someone.

“I’m not too sure, but I know it’s been over six months.”

“She kept it a secret from me.” You concluded. To be honest, it hurt that she kept something that big from you.

“My dad is the same, but he’s been that way all my life. I found out about his affair from someone at school. So that should tell you everything you need to know.”

That was rough. “I’m sorry, Colby.”

He just shrugged. “I’m over it now.” But you didn’t know if he was, but you weren’t going to push him.

The both of you carried the food into the dining room, where your mom and his dad were deep in conversation. The two of them looked up when you entered the room. You placed the food onto the table and took your seats, which happened to be right next to each other. Your mom and his dad were on one side and you and Colby were on the other.

You were still in shock that your crush was right here in front of you. You were double shocked that your mom was dating his dad. How in the world did that happen?

“It’s good to have you home, Y/n.” Your mom said as you started to plate the food.

“Thanks mom. It’s good to be home.” You didn’t know how truthful she was being though because the two of you haven’t gotten along for all of your life. She’s blamed you for your dad leaving and treated you like crap for it.

Dinner went on like that, with idle conversation and moments of silence. Truth be told, it was awkward as hell. You kept stealing glances at Colby, to find him pushing his food around before he would glance your way as well. You would always look away while a light blush appeared on your face.

“Alright kids, now that we have finished dinner, we wanted to talk to you about something.” John said once all the plates had been cleared.

“Sure.” Colby said, while you just nodded.

“We wanted to take a family vacation, so we can get to know each other’s family. So we booked a vacation to Boca Raton for a week.” Your mom said catching the two of you off guard.

“Oh, okay. But you know I have a job to start, right?” You stated.

“Yes sweetie, I know your job doesn’t start until next month and we leave in two days.”

“Great.” Colby’s voice was void of emotions. Like you, he wasn’t thrilled about your parents attempts to mesh the families together.

“You don’t sound too thrilled about this, Colby.” John noticed.

“I’m not. I’m being forced to get to know your new girlfriend and her daughter when I would rather not be involved. It’s not going to go anywhere, just liked the rest of them. You will probably cheat again.”

His words were harsh, but you could definitely see where he was coming from. But you couldn’t help but feel he had a dislike for you simply because your mom was dating his dad.

“That’s where you are wrong. I love Susanne and we are going to make this work whether you like it or not.” John was defensive against his moody son.

“Whatever you say. Are we finished here? I have somewhere to be.” He pushed his chair from the table and got up.

“I’m sorry, Sue, I don’t know where he got the attitude from. I promise he will be better on the trip.” You just rolled my eyes and stood up and started gathering the empty plates. Your mother followed John and Colby out while you started to clean up.

You were washing the dishes, when your mother entered the kitchen behind you.

“So Y/n, did you like John?” She questioned while you glanced over at her.

“I don’t know him enough to know whether I do or not.” You said truthfully.

“Well you should like him. He makes me happy and I’m in love with him.”

A sick feeling formed in your stomach.

“How long have you two been dating?” You needed to know how long she kept it a secret from you.

“Ten months.”

“You kept it a secret from me for 10 months!” You raised your voice as the anger took over. You put the sponge down and turned to face her.

“Yes, we didn’t talk much, and I didn’t think it was that big of a thing to keep from you. Besides, you were busy with college and whatever else you were doing at your fathers, I didn’t want to bother you.”

Her excuse was pure bullshit to you. ��Save the shitty excuse and admit you didn’t think about telling me.” You growled turning away from her.

“What? No honey, why would you think that. You’re my daughter and you mean a lot to me.”

Once again you faced her, “I mean a lot to you? That’s a fucking lie. You blamed me all my life for my father leaving you, but you didn’t stop to think about that fact that he left me too. You made my life hell because you weren’t happy with yours. What kind of mother does that?”

She just laughed it off. “You’re overexaggerating it. Now finish the dishes, I’m going to relax.” Before you could say another word, she was out the door.

****

Two days later, you were sitting in an airport, with Colby beside you and both your parents in some seats across from you. Both of you were equally unhappy to be here, while both parents acted like lovebirds. It was honestly gross to watch.

“Holy fuck, do they ever stop.” You groaned, taking your eyes away from them.

“Nope, they are constantly all over each other.” Colby stated looking down at his phone. “You seem angry.” He noticed.

“I am.” You grumbled, thinking about the conversation you had with your mother the other day. Like always, she managed to make you feel like shit instead of acknowledging her wrong doings.

“What did she do?” His focus was now strictly on you.

“She didn’t think telling me about her new boyfriend was important. She practically admitted to forgetting I existed once I was out of the house. Growing up with her as my mother was hell and she has never once apologized for the shit she did to me. For years, she blamed me for her and my fathers divorce. I was 4 when they divorced.” You said making sure your voice was low, so she wouldn’t hear it.

Colby was silent for a little while. “That’s horrible. What kind of mother blames their child for a divorce?”

“Mine apparently. Now she wants to suddenly act like it didn’t happen.”

“Well I think that’s bullshit. I can see right through them, you know. They are just using each other for company. My father has never been able to be faithful, every woman he has dated were all just an excuse to have some fun. He also resents my mom for moving on from him and marrying someone whose better to her.”

“That’s fucked.”

“You’re telling me. My father is immune to commitment.”

“We have some fucked up parents.” He nodded and sent a glare to both your parents who were giggling to themselves.

The flight was called shortly after that, so the two of you followed your parents onto the plane. Colby and you were going to be sitting next to complete strangers, while your parents snuggled up together. It was not fun. Your flight was annoying, because the middle-aged man beside you kept checking you out and trying to talk to you, despite you politely telling him you weren’t interested in conversing. It was complete hell.

Arriving in Boca Raton was a godsend because you couldn’t stand being next to this guy anymore. The last half hour of the flight, he spent it trying to guess your name and persuade your number out of you. You were seconds away from punching him, but luckily the plane landed, and you were able to get out of there quickly. Colby sent you a look as you exited the plane, you just grumbled under your breath.

“Well that flight was wonderful, wasn’t it kids?” Your mother asked as John waited for the luggage to come around.

“Fuck no. That was the worst flight I have ever taken.” You said, holding your anger back.

“Oh sweetie, lighten up. We’re on vacation.” Her words sparked even more anger.

“The old guy next to me kept hitting on me and wouldn’t shut the fuck up the whole flight.”

“Watch your language.” Was all she said before she strolled up to stand beside John.

Colby just chuckled from beside you. You sent him a glare and walked away from the group. You didn’t want to be here with them. You didn’t want to spend a whole week with your mom and her boyfriend that you knew nothing about. You didn’t want to spend the whole week pining over Colby when you knew he would never like you the way you liked him. He and you were still in completely different circles and he liked his women blonde and gorgeous. You were anything but that. Okay maybe you’re pretty, but you still thought of yourself as the nerd from high school and you didn’t doubt he did as well.

John and your mother ushered all of you to a rental car, and you were off to the hotel. Colby and you were in the back, silently sitting beside each other. He was on his phone, probably talking to a girlfriend or something.

“Oh, I almost forgot. John upgraded his and I’s room to a suite, but you and Colby will be sharing a regular room.” Your mother said with a huge smile on her face.

“That’s great.” Colby grumbled from beside you, voicing your thoughts out loud.

“Don’t sound so sad. It will be good for you to get to know each other.” John stated sternly, showing authority over Colby.

“Sure, whatever.” Colby said under his breath. you hid your smirk from his words. He nudged your side when he saw that.

You were nervous as hell now. You would be sharing a room with Colby. The man you’ve had a crush on for nearly 10 years. This was going to be one hell of an experience; you were sure of it.

The car pulled up to the hotel, which was this huge building that looked like it had been here for a while. It was beautiful and right on the beach as well. It was surely a resort and perhaps it wouldn’t be a horrible place to stay. But your nerves were still on edge about this whole vacation. Your moms attachment to Colby’s dad scared you.

Colby and you were given the keycards to the room before your parents left both of you alone to fend for yourselves. Honestly, their behavior was disgusting to you.

“Let’s get to our room I guess.” Colby grumbled, picking up his suitcase and heading towards the elevators in the opposite direction of where our parents had gone. You quickly grabbed yours and followed after him.

The two of you stepped into a gold-plated elevator and he hit the eighth floor, where your room was located. You felt like he was resenting you, because he would have to spend the whole week with you.

“I’m sorry that you have to stay with me.” You mumbled as the elevator moved up floor by floor.

The angry scowl left his face as he glanced towards you. “No, I don’t mind staying with you. I’m mad at our parents for just springing all of this onto us last minute.”

You let out a sigh of relief when he said this. You really thought he hated you or something.

“Oh, I thought you hated me.” You admitted while looking towards the carpeted floor of the elevator.

“I don’t hate you, Y/n. I haven’t ever really hated you, even when I was dating Paige.” His words surprised you.

“Really? Then why was I treated like crap when you dated her?” There was no way he didn’t hate you then.

“Because Paige was always a huge bitch and blackmailed me into treating you that way.”

“Oh, well it’s okay then.”

He shook his head. “It’s not okay at all really. I should have never done some of the things I have done. But I was horrible in high school after my parents’ divorce.”

“Well it’s good to know you didn’t and don’t hate me. Also, don’t blame yourself for the way you acted as a result of the divorce. It was traumatic to you and you only did what helped you feel better.”

“I guess so. I wish I could take so much back.”

“That’s impossible, but you can continue to be a better person from now into the future.” It wasn’t good that he was beating himself up over the past.

He sent you a kind smile. “You’re right. Thank you for that, Y/n.”

You sent him a smile as well. “No problem. Now, should we get this vacation started?” You questioned as the two of you stopped in front of the door to the room.

Colby opened the door and the two of you entered the room. It was a surprisingly nice room for it being a regular room. There was two queen sized beds, covered in crème sheets and comfy looking pillows. There was a decently sized sitting area with a nice flat screen TV. The bathroom was gorgeous, with a huge, jetted tub and a beautiful walk-in shower. The best part was the private balcony we had that overlooked the beautiful blue ocean. Staying here wasn’t going to be so bad.

“This is way nicer than I expected.” He spoke your thoughts.

“Yes, I agree. But this is an upscale hotel.” You stated as you set your bags down on one of the two beds. The beds looked so comfy, you wanted to just take a nap at the moment.

“True.” He answered when his phone went off. He was silent as he checked it. “Our parents want us to meet up in the Lobby at 7 for dinner.” His voice was flat when he mentioned the parents.

“Oh great. Well, that means there’s time for a nap.” You moved your bags from the bed and pulled your shoes off. You pulled back the covers and got into the comfy bed. Your body was in bliss the minute you laid down on the bed. It was absolutely perfect. Your eyes grew heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. The nap was much needed.

PART TWO >>

[x0401x]

Violet Evergarden Short Story

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

The ingredients that led me to my current self were:

A teaspoon of queen’s pride.

Two tablespoons of love for my husband, a one-sided feeling now required.

Plenty of tears shed in a forest capital where I had no supporters.

Mix the tear batter with the stubbornness of a princess from the country of white camellias, then put it in the oven. Once it bakes until it becomes tough enough to give one a hard time cutting it even with a knife, it is done. No one can tear a bite off it so easily.

My adult self was reborn this way.

But then, what about her? I wondered what kind of adult my favorite girl was by now.

Just as I was curious about this, good news arrived.

   The Queen and the Auto-Memories Doll

   The marauder came around the time when the red roses were in full bloom.

Said doll, whose lustrous golden hair fluttered in the wind, had jewel-like blue eyes that nailed people down. A dignified young woman, intimidated by nothing. That was the kind of marauder she was.

If I were to talk about my relationship with her, it would be a long story. If I were to explain it leaving out the many stories that happened between us, I would probably say that she was a key figure who became the mediator of my love story in the past, as well as an Auto-Memories Doll engaged in the ghostwriting business at a certain famous postal company.

Although she was the kind of girl who seemed like she could live in solitude forever, she was different when she appeared before me.

“It has been a while, Lady Charlotte.”

I had invited her into our kingdom as a guest of honor because I heard that she was taking a long vacation and traveling around the world – so the passage of time could change people this much.

“I will rush to anywhere that my clients desire...”

The girl, who used to be so ephemeral in the past, had grown up and brought a man to accompany her on the journey, so was it not fitting to call her a marauder? At the very least, she had opened an air hole in my unchangeable royal palace life.

“No, pardon me. This is Violet Evergarden on break from duty, Your Majesty, Queen Charlotte.”

I whispered with the dignified gaze and voice tone of a queen, “It’s been a long time, ghostwriter. No... Violet. Thanks for coming even though you’re on vacation.” I then fixed my stare on the man standing next to Violet.

My adorable ghostwriter possessed a beauty that shone distinctly even in within the palace, which congregated fine-looking women. Therefore, it would not be strange at all if she eventually had a deep relationship with some gentleman, but by no means could I tell if he had that sort of relationship with her.

He greeted me after Violet. Apparently, his name was Gilbert Bougainvillea.

“What’s the relationship between you two?”

As I asked straight to the point, Violet and Gilbert looked at each other’s faces.

Violet then opened her mouth, “He is my former superior officer.”

“So you are related through work.”

“Yes, but I am no longer registered in the military, so maybe I should say that he is my benefactor, whom I am on close terms with nowadays...”

“So you’re close to your benefactor... enough to go on a trip with him, huh.”

“Well...”

Perhaps unable to precisely define her relationship with him, Violet fell silent. But from this, I was able to catch the glimpse of a womanly shyness that I had the feeling I had gone through before.

“The word ‘benefactor’ alone indeed does not cover it.”

“Dear me.”

“I would like to use a more suitable word if there was any, but even I, who work with ghostwriting, do not know an appropriate term for it...”

“Hum, Violet, I’m sorry.”

“‘Reverence’ is not enough and ‘adoration’ might be too trivial...”

“I’m sorry; you can stop there. He’s also embarrassed. You don’t want other people to ask too much about those things, right? It’s under development, isn’t it?”

He smiled, seeming a bit awkward. He was an adult man but looked slightly childish when smiling.

——Isn’t he a fine man?

Hair the color of dusk, blessed physique and virile facial traits. There was some elegance in him. His looks had a male allure that was capable of exhilarating the courtiers of the palace.

——Such a pretty emerald iris.

He was a stunning man. The look in his eye was grievous and had a darkness to it. A mysterious man with an eyepatch. The hardships that he had been burdened with until now oozed out of him. His scent was different from the one of the palace’s knights, but I could feel a similar air coming from him. His build seemed reliable, which looked even more remarkable as he stood next to Violet. I wondered if he had not been quite the pretty boy in his younger years.

He appeared to be apart from Violet in age. I suddenly recalled that I had asked her in the past about what she thought of age gaps between men and women.

——Did she not say no back then because of her relationship with him?

I had many guesses, but I did not voice any of them. I was an adult now.

“Erm, there was an introduction before you came into the room, but I’m going to introduce myself again. I am Charlotte Abelfreya Fluegel. The queen of this country.”

I was Charlotte Abelfreya Drossel before. My lips were finally used to the greeting ever since my name had changed. Even so, I did not want Violet to call me a queen.

“Violet, you put the title of honor ‘Your Majesty the queen’ on me earlier, but you can refer to me in the same way as before. I want you to do that.”

“Is that not disrespectful?”

“It isn’t. I’m asking for it, after all.”

Silence.

“I will punish anyone who opposes to this. Got it, Violet?”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte.”

Right, that was better. After all, when you called me that, I could feel as if I had returned to the times when I was in my homeland where white camellias bloomed. I asked the same thing out of Mr. Bougainvillea, but he refused it due to it being discourteous. Well, this was our first meeting, so maybe there was no helping it.

   After that, Violet and I were left on our own. Mr. Bougainvillea took his leave, saying that we must have had things to talk about. I also drove all of the ladies-in-waiting out of the reception room and was at last actually able to breathe.

The suffocation I felt from my daily life in the royal palace did not come only from wearing a corset. When I thought that there were no longer any stares keeping watch on us, I made merry like a little girl.

“Violet.”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte.”

“Violet, Violet! You’ve become an adult, huh!”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte.”

We had first met when we were both girls, so when we reunited, I could feel as if we had gone back to those days. But I did not know if she, who was always expressionless, was happy about it, yet just when I thought this, Violet’s lips were faintly forming an arc.

——My, she laughed.

Much too surprised, I forgot about conducting myself like a queen and opened my mouth wide. “Violet! You...!” I touched her cheeks with both of my hands.

I should not be doing something like that to her, as she was a lady and no longer a girl, but I felt like confirming if such a natural smile was not my hallucination. I kneaded her cheeks pliably. Violet let me do as I pleased.

“Lady—Char—lotte—” Violet spoke, sounding like having her cheeks kneaded was inconvenient.

——How soft; so you had such soft cheeks? No, more importantly...

“Wh-Wh-What’s gotten into you? You’re the one who pinched your cheeks saying you couldn’t smile that one time!”

“My per—formance has im—proved.”

At first, I could not catch what she was saying very well. “My performance has improved”. After ruminating for the words in my head, I finally understood it.

“Huhu—hahaha!”

This mood. This sensation that almost felt like a toy doll was talking to me. I could actually feel that, yes, Violet was indeed in front of me.

Overjoyed, I let out a high-pitched laughter, just like a little girl. Then, I took Violet’s hand. I squeezed it tight, putting into it my sentiment of deep affection for her, the possessor of mechanical arms. “Hey, I’m truly happy to see you. Have you been doing well?”

“Yes. Lady Charlotte, you also appear to be in good health.”

“I became a bit of an adult too, right? How do I look?”

“Yes, you have become an adult woman.”

When I said that I was currently pregnant, Violet blinked, and then told me to “please sit down”. Her attitude was as if she were protecting me almost like a knight. But I shook my head. I invited her to a stroll. Once I told her that walking a little was best for a mother’s body, as expected, she offered her arm in a knightly manner and escorted me.

That part of her had not changed.

“My husband is in the middle of government affairs, but you should be able to see him tonight.”

As there was also the fact that I was carrying the child of King Fluegel, I had changed residences from the royal palace and was resting in the royal villa for now. A garden spread out outside of the villa, which was a good place for a walk.

In Fluegel, nicknamed the Forest Kingdom, both the royal palace and the land surrounding it were enclosed by trees and green meadows. The garden also had a feel unlike that of Drossel, its atmosphere somewhat idyllic. If I were to describe just the environment, I would say that it was a nice place for children.

“A dinner party... is too ceremonious, so I’m thinking of just having a banquet in the royal villa. You’ll stay over, right? I also want you to meet Lord Damian...”

Violet’s eyes went left and right, as if searching for vestiges of Mr. Bougainvillea, who was nowhere to be found. “If that person says it is all right...”

He was supposed to be having a tour around the palace’s interior with the chamberlain by now. I had told the latter to convince him to agree, so there would likely be no problem. The chamberlain was a capable person.

“Please. Just one day is fine. One day is fine, so... Violet, I want to spend it with you.”

“Will you not be bored in my company?”

“No way. If I were, I wouldn’t have told you to ‘come here because I want to see you’.”

“Are you still unused to life here?”

“Yeah, I have clashes from the smallest to the biggest things. It’s gotten better in comparison to the beginning of my marriage, but in the end, I’m all alone in this country. It’s probably hard for you to understand how happy it makes me to be able to see a face I know... but I’m really glad.”

Hearing these words, Violet made a face that looked like she was giving it a thought. “Will you not summon Madam Alberta?”

Alberta was the woman who had influenced my life the most – the courtier who had acted as my foster mother. She was also in the position of chief of the ladies-in-waiting, so she could not go so easily to the princess who had married off to a different country.

“I’d like to. Lord Damian is making sure that she’ll come if my child is born safely. After fulfilling my role as a queen, I can finally... finally ask for what I want.”

“So it could be said that the more valuable the person’s circumstances, the more inconveniences they face.”

“Yeah. Besides, Alberta probably doesn’t want to be away from her country...”

“It did not seem like it to me. Though this is my own speculation.”

“Is that true...? Hey, speaking of which, you were in Drossel before coming here, right? Why did you go see Alberta before coming to me? Was it a geographic issue? Did you have plans to come here?”

“No, we did not have plans to come to Fluegel.”

My mouth distorted. Were my feelings unilateral? That was what I thought, but as she added, “It would be a problem if civilians carefreely came to visit someone from the royal family”, I was at a loss for words. It was just as Violet said.

She said with a face that feigned ignorance at my complicated maiden heart, “In a way, there is a reason. Madam Alberta once interceded for me to take the job of private tutor of a certain lady from the nobility, so I also went to the royal palace in order to report it to her.”

“My, you’d started doing that kind of work?”

“No... she... that person was an exception.” Perhaps remembering this person, Violet looked into the distance for a bit and then closed her eyes. “After that, too, she would introduce jobs to me whenever possible... so my company’s president also told me to express my gratitude if I ever had a chance to see her. Even if I had not... I wanted to show Major – my companion – the beauty of that country.”

“Is that so...? I’m happy. The beauty of my country is my pride.”

“Yes. I could not have thought that we would come here as per Madam Alberta’s arrangement.”

“S-Sorry.”

The courtier Alberta was once my wet nurse, and to Violet, she was a work intermediator. Alberta had persuaded Violet, saying that, since she had come nearby, she probably wanted to see me.

Having received the news about Violet’s visit from Drossel, I had sent a carriage from Fluegel to pick her up without thinking about her convenience. As a result, I had hindered the vacation that this much-demanded Auto-Memories Doll probably was finally able to have... as well as the time that she was getting to spend with her significant other.

Calling her over in a way that bordered forcefulness might be an arrogant conduct coming from the royal family.

“Violet... did you not want to come to Fluegel?”

“That is not the case.”

“Really...?”

“Yes; it is the country that Lady Charlotte married off to, after all. I had interest in it.”

“Thank you... I’m not free, so... I can’t go anywhere on my own... I had no choice but to bring you here.”

As I said this, Violet nodded with an “I am aware”.

   Afterwards, we talked about what happened in the meantime that we had not seen each other. About how Lord Damian and I were able to properly fall in love with each other after marrying. About how Violet had managed, through ups and downs, to find the most beloved master that she had been looking for. About the fact that he was Mr. Gilbert. About her wish for two of them, in the life that they would have from now onward, to go to the countries that she had visited as an Auto-Memories Doll, because she wanted him to become acquainted with them as well, even if it took some time. We talked about such things quiet and lightly.

I was so happy for being able to have this kind of conversation with her that I could not help myself.

“Speaking of which, Lady Charlotte, it seems you are funding an orphanage.”

“You think it’s hypocritical of me?”

“No. To tell the truth, a girl who is being taken care of over there is supposed to work with us in the future.”

“Eh, is that so? I... built that orphanage because I was influenced by you.”

We opened our eyes wide at each other’s information, hearts pounding, and then broke into giggles.

Aah, when was the last time that I had been so free of wariness with someone? It was really fun. How many more times would I get to see her like this?

“By the way, how’s the Auto-Memories Doll that was with Lord Damian during the Public Love Letters doing?”

Even though we had barely just started chatting, I suddenly thought about that. It was a bad habit of mine. I was quick to picture the end of things.

“She is doing well. It seems she is... always having fights with her lover, but...”

Life was short. Many things passed in a blink of eye.

“Is that okay?”

I spent my time burying down the intervals in which I could not see her.

“It is. Our company is the same as ever. Everyone is doing fine.”

Even so, we could not be together forever.

We would spend time together today and tomorrow, and once we parted, there was a possibility that we would never meet again. After all, I was a queen and Violet was an Auto-Memories Doll. A woman who could go nowhere and a woman who could go anywhere. As one would expect, our social positions were different.

——Aah, Charlotte, stop thinking, I reprimanded myself. Although this moment was unbearably fun, I was conscious of its end, which caused my chest to tighten somewhat.

I was together with Violet in the time when red roses blossomed. The hours we spent talking in the garden would probably become irreplaceable to me. I might recall it over and over.

——This might not be the case for Violet, though.

Friendships could also be unrequited. That was exactly why this moment was both too happy and too painful.

“Lady Charlotte.”

Having my name called, I frantically raised the corners of my mouth, which had gone down before I realized. A queen had to be always smiling elegantly, as to not make the subjects uneasy.

“Wh-What is it?”

Even though I excelled at faking a smile, for some reason, I could not do it properly right now.

“What is the matter?”

I would end up accidentally showing her my original, anxious self when she was in front of me.

“Nothing; it’s just that my heart is filled to the brim.”

Being overcome with emotion at the irreplaceable “present” out of the blue in the middle of a conversation and feeling sad about it was incomprehensible and nothing but a bother to the other person.

“I simply... thought that I was indeed lonely.”

Violet. I might be no more than a character that had not even amounted to a single page of your life.

“I really wanted to see you.”

But you had played a huge role in mine, so you would always be in my heart.

“Because I’d been remembering the things you said to me whenever I was having a hard time.”

Whenever I was sad and about to burst into tears, your face would appear in my heart and you would speak to me.

“Weird, isn’t it? If you think about it, we aren’t that close. I’m just a client to you anyways. Just one person in a crowd. But...”

But I had never forgotten the things you had done for me.

“But, y’know...”

You had supported my love. Allowed me to be selfish. Told me that I was a crybaby. You were the only girl about as old as me that I could be myself when interacting with.

“But...”

To me, you were my girlhood itself. A symbol of the time when I lived in Drossel, fell in love and was simply Charlotte. It was almost as if I were embracing my child self.

Could you tell? My chest was hurting a lot. What a pain. Why did people become like that when growing up?

“I like you.”

Why did we think that these moments in which we became weak were so bad?

“Lady Charlotte...”

In that instant, Violet came closer, and just when I wondered if she was going to kiss me, she reached out a hand.

“‘I want to stop your tears’.”

And then, the tip of her finger scooped a drop of the tears that were about to overflow.

“If I am certain, I had once told you this, Lady Charlotte.”

I was a bit dumbfounded. I did not think she still remembered that.

“Are you still a crybaby...?”

When she gently asked me that, I felt like one more tear would leak. I suppressed my eyes in a panic. “No way I’d be. I’m a queen already.”

“Yes.”

“I have Lord Damian too. I’m his wife.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve become strong. I... got a bit weak just now, but it was a temporary thing.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

Aah, you. Violet.

“Lady Charlotte, if you like...”

You were extremely insensitive sometimes.

“...if you ever have a chance to travel to Leidenschaftlich...”

And cruel.

“...by all means, do call me. I will hasten to join you.”

But kind enough to make me cry.

“I want to show you that city one day...”

You had no idea that you were saving me with your casual statements.

Before I noticed, Violet was offering me a handkerchief. I accepted it, and while hiding my crying face but making at least my voice sound all right, I said, “I’ll go; I’ll definitely go there one day. And when I do, show me around!”

Violet replied, “Yes” with a tone that indicated she was probably smiling.

“Definitely.”

Surely, even if I managed to meet Violet again someday, the same thing would happen. It was precisely because we could not see each other that I would be both happy and pained once I managed to see her.

“Of course. If it suits you, I can draw up a written oath... Ah, Lady Charlotte. Major is back.”

The contents of our conversations had changed from before. We were no longer talking about one-sided love letters. I would not sulk or curl up on my bed in front of her.

“No way; I can’t show him a face like this.”

Still, it did not matter how many years passed.

“You look beautiful.”

It was not as if my feelings would be gone.

——We were able to meet today like that. Even if we part ways tomorrow, you’ll surely be on a voyage somewhere around the world.

“Aren’t my eyes red?”

“No, Lady Charlotte.”

When I thought about that, I started looking forward to it. Should I try to write her a letter telling her that I wanted to see her by the time that the tales of our journeys had piled up?

“Your Majesty, may I also join Violet?”

“Of course; here, sit down.”

I had already decided on an opening phrase for it.

“Major, I was told a wonderful story. Is it all right to talk about it?”

“Aah, tell me, Violet.”

“The orphanage that Lady Charlotte built is...”

   Dear Ms. Violet Evergarden, Are you doing well?

I want to see you.

[ververa]

heeello, I have a request!! Can you write a Leonore Osgood x Reader where the reader is her seamstress? ✨💗Something where Leonore starts to order more dresses as an excuse to see her more often and flirts with her at every good opportunity. I think Leonore is a very confident woman, so she may have taken the initiative to kiss the reader as soon as she thought she had a chance, not being able to withstand a rejection

thank you and sorry if I made mistakes, I'm not very good at writing in english :/

ps. I love your blog💖

“Beyond The Wildest Dreams”

A/N: Thank you so much for this request!!! I had a lot of fun writing it 🤗😅 It's longer than I intended and it's only a few of all the ideas I had for this fic 🙈 So, I actually may write a 2nd part or since I have a few requests for Lenore I may combine them

Anyways I kinda feel like it's not exactly what you wanted, but I hope you will enjoy it!! 😇

Also many thanks to @misssmephisto who always supports me and who helped me a lot with this fic!!! 💜💖💜💖💜

Lenore Osgood x fem!reader

Word count: ~5k

The moment you saw Lenore Osgoode for the first time the whole world simply stopped existing. People around you, models, photographers, former and possibly new clients, even your nervousness - caused by the very first fashion show of yours, was long forgotten, as you watched the gorgeous blonde taking a seat at the audience, right in the first row. She didn't quite fit with the rest. She was fabulous.  No other in the room stood a chance with her. Self confidence radiated from every fibre of her body, not to mention that one look was enough to tell she was an enthusiast of refined style. She was with no doubt upper class. Her outfit itself indicated that she was one of those filthy rich people. Normally you tried to stay away from them, not feeling well in their company, yet this one time you were ready to make an exception. Who could ever blame you? Lenore truly distinguished herself and looked absolutely stunning dressed in a long, red dress and a mink coat. 

She was beautiful and tall - you could put on her whatever you would want to and it would drape perfectly, only adding to her captivating charm. But clothes were more than that - for you at least. It wasn’t just about materials draping nicely or the person looking good. You considered clothes to be a person’s second skin. A layer supposed to not only cover all the imperfections, but also hide their dark secrets and sins, at the same time giving out a hint of their attitude. And that particular approach of yours combined with your skills made you an exceptional designer and  a wonderful seamstress. On the other hand though, it made you misunderstood by many people - especially your fellows - which seemed to be the dark, less nice side of your profession, but you didn’t care about it at all. You were too busy, positively bedeviled with work, to spare your precious time to think about it.

As your eyes set on Lenore you immediately knew that you wanted nothing more, but to dress her up in all the finest materials you could get. Tailor her clothes to fit whatever was her guilt, to match the darkest parts of her soul. You looked her up and down, for what felt like a hundredth time that evening, and still you couldn’t get enough. You were ready and highly likely to come up with yet another project just like that. You knew for sure it would be something different. It had to be special, exclusive, hand-selected, designed just for her and as spectacular as the woman appeared to be.

The images of Lenore in taffeta and silk kept crossing your vivid imagination. You were just having some debate with yourself on what colour would suit her best, though much to your dismay you were brought back to reality by one of the assistants working there with you.

“Miss Y/L/N, we have a little problem backstage”

You turned towards the young man, resigning from watching the blonde and reluctantly giving your full attention to the man. 

“I’m coming” you nodded and - after glancing at Lenore one more time - you followed him to find out what kind of problem he was talking about.

~~~~

Lenore sat and watched, but she didn’t even bother to pretend she was interested. She had a sense that being there was just a waste of time. And as a worldly woman that she beyond any doubt was - she hated wasting her time, especially in places like that.  Shabby and tasteless. Full of inelegant, crude people who tended to get above themselves way too often, while in reality they had absolutely no idea what true sophistication and fashionability were. They came there to watch the show, but it had nothing to do with them being interested in fashion. It was just another way of exposing their self-importance. Lenore knew it better than anyone, but that was all right with her. She used to be like them too, though she no longer needed to prove anything to anyone. That's why for her being there was more like a torture.

If it hadn’t been for her impulsive and capricious decision to fire her tailor she wouldn’t even think of attending such a ridiculous event like a fashion show in a small, prospectless town. What could she possibly see there? Nothing. Those were simple people, not accustomed with high standards and clearly not ready for any fashion revolutions. Lenore hadn’t expected anything spectacular. There was no use in getting her hopes up, since she was there only because she needed a new seamstress. Enjoying the show was far from probable and she was well aware of it. Yet she went and stayed there. Fairly sick to death, but determined, hoping that if she put up with all the inconveniences, she would manage to find what she was looking for. 

Cheap clothes and shoddy jewellery - was all she got to see for the first hour or so and that was enough to drive her crazy. Lenore wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Those people's taste or rather lack of it - cried to heaven. Calling something like that a fashion show appeared to be some barbarous jape. And at that point Lenore was fed up and ready to leave. It was so naive of her to envisage witnessing something groundbreaking, but there was still one more line of clothes supposed to be walked out - and that was it. A real breakthrough. Something out of the ordinary. Something that Lenore wanted, but didn’t know it before.

She watched - suddenly interested in everything that was happening on the runway. Models walked down one after the other, then disappeared, but each one of them - presenting another outfit, left Lenore even more astonished than the previous one. 

Lenore Osgood had always been a material girl, but she felt no remorse about it. Clothes were her own kind of cakes and ale and she felt no shame choosing the perfect fabrics and jewelry that would suit her fancy, after all she had enough money to afford whatever she desired.

At that point all she wanted was that one particular line of clothes. The show wasn’t over yet, but Lenore already knew she was going to be the one to buy all those outfits. She kept waiting though - well aware that the last outfit was supposed to be the most extraordinary one. However she didn’t get to see it, as instead of the last model some man appeared on the runway - informing there was going to be a short break, because they had some problem. 

Lenore huffed. She had never been a patient person and so - obviously - she wasn’t going to wait like others.The heiress stood up, flicked her long coat and not paying any attention to people - who intently observed her every move, not even trying to be discreet- she headed out to the backstage. She couldn’t care less about the rules or the fact that unauthorized people weren’t allowed there. It did not apply to her - that was how Lenore perceived every prohibition she encountered. She had never been the one to care much for the commonly accepted norms. She simply did what she pleased, completely unbothered by the possible consequences. Even more so at that moment - she just needed to meet the designer face to face. After all it didn’t happen often that someone managed to captivate her like that.

How surprised she was when instead of a man - as she incorrectly assumed the artist to be a male - her eyes set on you - a young woman. That’s when her amazement doubled. 

At first Lenore stopped, slightly confused. She didn't speak up immediately. You weren’t there alone and she couldn't interrupt you and deprive herself of the opportunity to watch you working.

Some young, very tall and skinny woman stood there next to you. Lenore figured it must have been the model, supposed to walk down the runway as the last one. Lenore examined the woman’s body and immediately noticed that the dress she was wearing did not quite fit her - that was the problem apparently.

Lenore stood a few meters away. Not too far, so that she could see what you were doing, but still not close enough for you to notice her presence.

The blonde observed how your hand reached for some pins and then how you put a few of them in your mouth.

"I'm sorry, Y/N" the model said, sobbing

"Please, stop apologizing. Everything is alright" you mumbled, not really able to speak, because of the pins you kept between your lips.

"I destroyed the dress..."

"You didn't destroy anything. Now calm down and let me fix this little malfunction" you said, crouching behind the girl.

You took a seam ripper in one hand and held the fabric of the dress with the other. Normally seam rippers were used to help with occasional mistakes, but you were prone to experimenting with different sewing tools. Necessity is the mother of invention - you often said. And just like that, in one swift move you ripped one of the seams - only to pin it back together with pins within seconds. Except after that little operation of yours the dress became a bit looser. Not too excessively, but just enough to fit the model. 

“See? It’s fixed.” you said, proudly looking at the result of your work and zipping the dress “Now, stop crying. There’s no need to cry” you reassured.

“But I couldn’t put it on…”

“Because it was too small”

“Exactly… I-I… I need to lose weight” she said in a breaking voice.

“No” you shook your head “Clothes are supposed to fit you, not the other way. Now go”

The woman nodded and rushed out, passing by next to Lenore, who was standing there with a cigarette in her hand - shamelessly checking you out.

“I must say, that was very impressive” the heiress stated, thereby making you aware of her presence.

You quickly turned around and were instantly met by the blue eyes and probably one of the most entrancing smiles you had ever seen. There she was. One and only Lenore Osgood in the flesh. You couldn’t help the gasp - she looked even better up close.

“I… Umm… Can I help you, madam?” you asked, internally scolding yourself for taking so long to say anything.

“Actually, you can, darling”

“I’m listening” you said, trying to act as natural as possible, despite the fact the nickname she used made your heart skip a beat.

Lenore pulled at her cigarette, then smiled - obviously pleased with your answer.

“You are the one who designed those close” she stated, but with a hint of uncertainty. 

“That’s right” 

“Well then, allow me to felicitate you. It was a wonderful show - the last part at least” she stated, rolling her eyes as she remembered how sorely dull the beginning of the event was.

“Thank you” you beamed at her words.

“You are welcome, darling” her smile got even wider - making you wonder if she realized what effect that goddamn nickname had on you.

“Now, let’s say I have an offer for you. What would you say if I asked you to work for me?” she continued.

How could you say no to her? You would most likely be out of your mind if you had denied such a proposal. Her invitation was one of those you could not and definitely did not want to decline. How could you do it after she bought all the outfits from your new collection - paying even more than they were actually worth. Not to mention that working for her was what you dreamed about ever since you saw her.

That's how you found yourself standing at the door of Lenore's mansion the very next day. She wanted to know what other ideas you had and see different projects of yours, so you took your binder and sewing planner with you. As you nervously waited for someone to open and let you in, you held the items tight, pressing them to your chest - as if they were some precious treasure.

"Miss Y/L/N? Come in, Ms Osgood is waiting for you" an older woman informed, as she led you inside.

You followed, looking around - taking in every detail of the house interior and trying to memorize it. You always held to a particular belief of the house being the image of its owner's soul. Some people found it ridiculous, but in that case it was true. Lenore's house was as superior, noble and remarkable as the heiress herself.

"Y/N!" the blonde called and you turned round. You immediately stopped, when you caught the sight of her.

Lenore was slowly descending the stairs - looking as gracefully as ever. You smiled to yourself, when you realized she was wearing one of the outfits that you created. You had never felt such joy and pride seeing your previous clients wearing something that you designed. But to be fair, none of them radiated with such regality as Lenore. No one could ever match her dignity or a sense of majesty, and apparently that was what made your projects look even more exquisite.

"Is it alright if I call you by your name, dear?" Lenore asked, stopping for a moment to allow her little monkey jump from her shoulder to the shoulder of the woman who let you in.

"If I'm allowed to call you by yours" you smiled.

"Absolutely, darling" the blonde said enthusiastically, as she moved towards you. A smirk appeared on her face, indicating that she did not miss the way you blushed at the nickname. "Let's sit down, shall we?" she suggested, pointing to a spacious room, where a white sofa and armchairs stood.

You nodded, as you moved to sit in one of the armchairs.

"Would you like something to drink, Y/N?" Lenore asked.

"Just a glass of water, please"

"Darce! Bring Y/N a glass of water" she ordered, clicking her fingers.

You shifted in the armchair. The woman in front of you made you feel nervous for some reason, but you tried to act professional.

"You wanted to see my projects, so I brought my binder…" you said, a bit hesitant.

"Wonderful!” she exclaimed, grinning “May I?" she asked, as she reached out for the item.

"Of course" you passed her the binder and then observed, as she intently studied each page.

"Your water, Miss Y/L/N" the older woman said, handing you the glass.

"Thank you" you smiled, carefully taking the vessel from her.

"What a talent and creativity!" Lenore praised, glancing at you with a smirk on her face, not paying attention to the other woman.

You smiled, taking a sip of the water - hoping it would actually help with calming your nerves.

Lenore spent almost an hour on deciding which of your projects she would like to get. She obviously liked them all, but she needed her clothes to be different. She needed them to be extraordinary, fancy and expensive. And so you suggested creating something just for her.

You were a hardworking person - used to staying up late to finish sewing different outfits. You always went all out and thereby made your clients satisfied, but with Lenore you wanted more. Making her satisfied simply didn't seem enough. You wanted to impress her, blow her away. Little did you know that the heiress already was spellbound - not only by your projects, but by you yourself.

Lenore had never met anyone who delighted her so much. Such manners, such a style and sophistication. Not to mention you were so extremely accomplished for your age. All that impressed her in a way, but also fascinated her. She was truly enchanted by you. No wonder. You had a peculiar background, attitude and approach to the real world. You were a rare sample and Lenore happened to like thinking of herself as a connoisseur. She liked uncommon things. That's why she desperately wanted to have a taste of that extraordinary, magical power that radiated from you. A taste of that particular thing that made you so special. Though before she decided to do anything, she needed to make sure you would not disapprove of her. Because rejection was something Lenore didn't take well.

Lenore figured out that taking things slow was a good thing to do. She decided to warm you up a little and make sure that she actually had a chance. She didn't want her intentions to be too obvious. Lenore had always been a little skeptical of displaying any sort of affection. She'd rather play around. Yet she couldn't deny it felt sort of different with you.

Lenore loved teasing you more than anything. You always seemed so stressed and flustered whenever you would come to her house to deliver yet another outfit - and she found it adorable.

~~~~

At first you would come to her house once a week. Each time bringing with you a different dress and a few of new projects for Lenore to have a look and either go with them or tell you what she would like you to change. She rarely wanted to make any adjustments though. Lenore appreciated all of your ideas - only occasionally asking you to make a particular outfit in different colour or use another kind of fabric than you had intended to at first, but she never criticised you. As a matter of fact, she was always praising you. Maybe even too excessively. She complimented basically everything about you - from your creativity and ideas to the way you dressed. It appeared that she knew exactly what to say to make you blush - of which she was not only aware, but also took pride in succeeding in doing it. However, as much as you loved it, you could not quite help all the worries that clouded in your head - when you began realizing that Lenore became someone more than just your client and boss.

It had been going on for months. You grew so used to spending time with her and designing clothes for her that at some point your life turned to be all about Lenore. Everything either reminded you of her or inspired you to make another outfit that would fit her and only her taste. Lenore and even her monkey became such a huge part of your life, that you couldn't picture yourself not doing all of the things  you were doing and you definitely could not stop thinking about Lenore. To say that it scared you would be an understatement. The realization of your true feelings made you freak out completely. So much so that you did not know what to do. So much so you couldn't act the way you used to before. That's why you decided to take a break - hoping it would help you distance yourself. 

You enforced your idea immediately - as instead of informing Lenore face to face, you called her.

"Ms Osgood, I need some time off for… personal reasons" you told her.

Lenore agreed of course, though that sudden phone call took her by surprise. She knew something wasn't quite alright, when you used her full name, but she didn't ask any questions.

She kept repeating everything that had happened the past week, yet she couldn't figure out what was actually going on. You had never taken time off before and the way you called whatever was happening - "personal reasons" caused her a lot of distress. What did that even mean? Were you in trouble? Was she supposed to do something? And why was she so worried about it?

At first Lenore tried to convince herself that she didn't really care. But she did. Her little game turned into something utterly different without her even realizing it. You turned out to be far more than just her seamstress and she appreciated you for more than only your brilliant mind or skills.

Lenore truly cared about you and missed you dearly. She missed your smile and seeing you blush at her compliments. She missed listening to you talking about your projects - so passionately. 

Lenore was a grown-up and experienced woman, however she had never felt the way she felt with you. With you everything was different, new. And whatever she desired at the very beginning changed.

While you locked yourself in your apartment and lost yourself in work - as an attempt to distance from her, Lenore kept thinking of all the ways she could get closer to you. She was so desperate, so lovesick that she - the great heiress was ready to beg, even bow before for you if that was what it took.

You didn't expect Lenore to turn up at your door. It had been three days, you were sure everything was on the right track and you would manage to cure yourself of your fascination. Though, the moment you opened the door and saw Lenore in all her glory, everything came right back to you. All your feelings hit you again - that time with doubled power.

"Lenore… w-what are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Y/N" she said, passing by you - not waiting for you to invite her inside.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. How could anyone be able to make you feel so weak and yet so empowered at the same time?

Lenore walked in, then looked around your apartment. It wasn't too big, but she had to admit it was classy - you perfectly combined living space with workspace. But your flat wasn't what interested her the most. The heiress turned round to face you and offered you a cocky smile, as she took in your form. Lenore was used to seeing you in various dresses and heels, though that day you looked completely different. You were not only barefoot, but also instead of a dress, you had a white shirt and denim overalls on. Your hair was put in a messy ponytail and a measuring tape was draped around your neck - signifying that you were working.

"So, how can I help you?" you asked, not looking at Lenore.

The blonde smiled. "I was just passing by and thought I'd check on you"

"Check on me?" you repeated, raising your eyes.

"Yes" Lenore said calmly "Would you mind if I stay here for some time?"

"I-" you were about to protest, but it was too late, since Lenore sat down on one of the chairs and lit her cigarette.

"So, have you managed to resolve those personal reasons of yours?"

"Not really, I guess" you said, watching Lenore cross her legs.

The way you stared at her body didn't go unnoticed. Lenore didn't miss how flustered you got either, but she said nothing. It wasn't the right time - not just yet.

You sighed, approaching a table on which you had different materials laid. You got back to work, trying to ignore Lenore's presence. It was hard to focus on anything though. It was impossible when she was sitting there and watching you, but you kept trying anyways.

Lenore didn't speak for a few minutes. She simply enjoyed the moment - the possibility of watching you work and being around you in general.

"Is this a new project?" she asked, dragging on her cigarette.

"Actually yes. It's going to be your dress for the party that you're attending next month"

"Oh. Well, it looks nice"

You laughed at her words.

"It doesn't look like anything yet"

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Every project of yours is, darling"

You looked at her, not able to contain the smile caused by her compliment.

And that smile was what motivated Lenore to make the first step. 

"You know, I was thinking about you for the past few days," she began, as you focused on pinning the fabric together again.

"They don't appreciate you enough. I mean those men you're working with. They're wasting your potential. You should work for your own brand and not for theirs"

"Well…" you were about to say something, but Lenore cut you off.

"And I figured out there are two ways I could help you in"

"Yeah?" you said, but still didn't pay much attention to her words.

"Yes" Lenore stubbed her cigarette and stood up, as she continued "I could either become some kind of your patroness. This is the first option, but personally I like the second one more" she explained, as she stopped on the opposite side of the table.

"What's the second option then?" you asked, reaching for yet another pin.

"Well" Lenore smiled. You were still so oblivious "I could be your sugar momma" 

"Shit!" you cursed, as you accidentally hurt your finger with the pin "W-what?" you choked, looking at her. Your eyes were wide open, as Lenore approached you and carefully took your hand in her own. She then slowly brought the finger you had just cut to her lips and kissed it.

"I said…"

"No. I k-know what you said… I… I just…" you stuttered, not able to form any coherent sentence.

"Which option do you like better, sweetheart?" she asked in a low voice.

"I…" you gasped, staring at her lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, so instead you leaned in and kissed her. You could feel how her lips formed a smirk and even though your eyes were shut at that point, you could see that damn sly smile.

"I was hoping you'd go with the second option" Lenore chuckled.

You wanted to respond to her words, but before you managed to regain the ability to think properly - Lenore lifted you up and made you sit on the table.

"Your dress…" you tried to protest, but were immediately cut off.

"I'd rather take you this time" Lenore said and captured your lips once again.

That definitely wasn't what you had expected when you accepted the job offer. You hadn't even dreamed about it. And even if you had, being so close to Lenore, feeling her warm hands on your body and her soft lips pressed against yours was beyond any wildest dreams you could ever have. 

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange, @natasha-danvers, @stopkillinglilyrabe, @welshdragonrawr, @saucy-sapphic, @yang12e, @xixxiixx, @pradababey

[tsarisfanfiction]

Extremely Exhausted prompt:

‘You were almost dead from pushing it too far!’

Military Bros please!

Last Straw

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

Ah, my favourite!  Military bros yes, I can certainly do something with them, and it’s going to be no surprise at all who pushed too hard because I’m predictable.  Beyond that, I have no idea where this is going to go, so... let’s see what happens, shall we?

Extremely Exhausted Starters

Frustration was not an unfamiliar emotion.  Gordon had been in more than enough situations where it was an applicable response, many of them including his own beloved yet idiotic brothers (although, if he was feeling fair, he’d acknowledge that they’d say the same about him, too).  This, however?

This took the cake.

Normally, if there was a brother unconscious, the correct response was a lot of fretting and worry.  Reassuring words, attempts at coaxing them back towards consciousness or even just telling them what they were missing out on.

People generally frowned upon the idea of glaring daggers at an unconscious brother - that normally came once they were coherent enough to acknowledge and appreciate it - but this time, all the panic, all the worry, all the fear had amalgamated into frustration and it was a glare bordering on anger he had levelled at his eldest brother.

It was the third day.  Three days since they’d returned from a rescue to find Scott crumpled on the floor of Thunderbird One’s hangar.  For the longest moment, they’d feared the worst, especially when it became apparent that he’d fallen from the loading gantry while leaving his Thunderbird.

How he hadn’t died, they still weren’t entirely sure.  Security footage scraped up by John showed Scott attempting to halt his fall with his grapple, but at some point the grapple had failed and he’d fallen regardless.

Brains and Virgil were working on installing the same handrails Scott had refused many times.  As far as they were concerned - all of them were concerned - Scott had lost the right to say no now.

Scott’s stubbornness about the handrail was not, however, the reason Gordon was glowering at his too-white, unconscious face.  No, that honour went to the reason Scott fell in the first place.

It wasn’t unusual for Scott to push himself past his limits.  Gordon knew for a fact that his eldest brother often considered sleep a luxury rather than a necessity, and that he drove himself into the ground more often than should be feasibly possible.

Normally, however, it came to a head in the safety of home, big brother passing out on a sofa or at the desk and being quietly and gently relocated into a bed, where he was forcibly detained until the rest of them - most notably Grandma and Virgil - decided he was fit to return to work.

Back to back callouts on multiple different rescues and not actually seeing Scott for the two days leading up the incident because their brief moments of respite had never intersected, however, and no-one had been there to tell him to stop.  No-one had been there to make him stop, and his body had finally had enough just as he stepped out of Thunderbird One for the latest time.

Something needed to be done.  Scott could have died.  By all the laws of physics, he should have died, and they ironically had his tenacity and ingrained instincts to thank for the fact that he hadn’t.

Enough was enough.  Gordon wasn’t going to take it any longer.  As soon as Scott woke-

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked, and blue eyes blinked back at him.

Gordon snarled and the startled flinch from a big brother who clearly hadn’t been expecting that was uncomfortably satisfying.

“You,” he ground out, vaguely aware that Scott had only just regained consciousness and would be somewhat disorientated and confused, not to mention unlikely to be fully coherent.  It didn’t matter.  In some ways, it made it easier.  “You, Scott.  You and your damned determination to kill yourself.”

“Gord-”

“No,” Gordon snapped at him.  “No, you do not get to talk.  You do not get to try and explain yourself.  You do not get to make excuses.  You do not get to do anything except never, ever, push yourself too far again.”

Blue eyes were still blinking slowly, brow starting to furrow as Scott regained enough cognitive ability to start trying to work out what was going on.  Gordon knew he should give him a chance; if Scott understood, then Scott might try and do something.  But Gordon didn’t expect him to understand, let alone try and hold himself back, and the emotions had been building for the past three days with nowhere to go.  Until now.

“You almost died,” he hissed.  “You were almost dead from pushing too far.  Are you really that determined to leave us and go running to Mom and Dad again?  Does your own life mean nothing to you?  Do we mean nothing to you?”  His chest heaved, and he could see Scott’s lips moving as he tried to summon words, but he carried on.  Nothing Scott was trying to say would be anything he wanted to hear.  “I thought you’d understand!  You don’t make a secret of how terrified you were when I crashed!  Whenever you think any of us are going to die!  So why are you different?  Why do you think we don’t feel the same goddamn fear?  Or do you think it doesn’t matter what we feel?  Are our feelings an inconvenience to you?  A joke?”

“I-”

He could feel tears building in his eyes, the tight and unmistakable pressure of liquid bubbling up ready to breach the dam.  Scott’s own eyes were wide as he tried to speak.

Gordon didn’t want to hear it.  Couldn’t hear it.  Couldn’t listen to empty words and platitudes that sounded pretty and reassuring but would twist into ugly lies the very next time Scott disregarded his own life.  And there would be a next time.

There was always a next time.

“No,” he said again, standing up.  He should be glad Scott was awake, should be fussing like any of them did whenever a brother finally rejoined them, and he was, but it was buried by the ugliness of the frustration, the betrayal, the knot of emotions resting heavily right over his sternum and making it hard to breathe.  “No, Scott.”

He couldn’t be there any more.  Scott was awake.  Someone else could handle him, smother-hen him like he did them until he was all better and they could have the conversation as a family.  Again.  Gordon’s emotions were too wild, too chaotic and hurt, to stay any longer.

He left.

“Gordon!”

Scott’s strangled call dragged him to a halt just outside the room and he balled his hands into a fist, teeth grinding against each other.

He knew what was coming.

Thud.

Gordon wanted to scream.  He wanted to walk away.  He wanted to leave his stupid, selfish, irresponsible brother.

He couldn’t.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he spat, slamming the door open and storming back inside.  Scott was on the floor, trembling limbs trying to push himself back up to his feet.

“Gordon,” his brother repeated as he stalked to his side.  Blue eyes were looking at him, and there was a little bit of confusion, a little bit of uncertainty, but the overwhelming emotion in there was worry.

Typical, stupid, Scott.  Too freshly woken to understand what was going on, but ever aware enough to understand he had a brother in distress.

A microscopic part of Gordon snarled that he could just stay down there, but no matter how furious he was, there were some things he just couldn’t do.  His feet connected with the floor with more force than necessary as he came to a stop towering above his brother.  Scott didn’t cease his attempts to drag himself upright until Gordon stooped down.

“This,” he hissed furiously, “is exactly what I was talking about.”  Mindful of Scott’s weakened state - mostly exhaustion, but while the grapple had saved him from being smashed to pieces, it hadn’t stopped some nasty bruises and a couple of cracked bones - he grabbed hold of him and hauled him up.

Scott didn’t fight him as he was deposited back to sit on the bed, although Gordon was well aware that had nothing to do with his words and everything to do with the fact that he was right next to him.  Scott didn’t need to chase after him if he was right there.

“You are going to stay in that bed until we say otherwise,” he growled.  Scott did resist as he forced him to lay back down, but Gordon had frustration and anger fuelling him, and Scott was nowhere near full strength.

He didn’t let go of his shoulders even once he had him laid on the bed again, keeping him pinned in place with his body weight as he loomed over him.

“What-”

Gordon still didn’t want to hear a word from his brother.

“Stay.  In.  That.  Bed.”  His hands were trembling, too much emotion to be contained.  His voice wasn’t steady, either.  “You want to know why I’m upset?  You want to know why?”  He glared straight into blue eyes.  “You.  You are why.  You and your stupid need to work yourself straight into a grave.  So what you can do about it is stay in that bed.  No escape attempts.  No moving unless we say you can.  Do you understand, Scott?”

“I-”

“Do.  You.  Understand?”

Scott’s eyes were a little clearer now.  A little more awake, a little more comprehending.

Gordon hadn’t planned to stay in the room long enough for him to reach that stage, but of course Scott hadn’t left him with a choice.

His brother softened.  He felt him relax under his hands, just a fraction, and there was something gentler in his eyes.  A level of understanding.  Far from perfect, but a start.

“Yes.”

Gordon relaxed minutely himself.  He knew it wouldn’t last long.  It never did.  Scott just couldn’t help himself.  But for the moment, it was enough.

“I’m getting the others,” he said, stepping back and releasing his hold on his brother.  “If you even think about moving while I’m gone, I am going to find every single strap, rope and cord on the island and tie you down so firmly you won’t be able to even twitch.”

It was a promise as much as a threat.  He turned to leave.

“Gordon.”

Once again his brother’s voice stopped him, although he didn’t turn back around again.

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed.  “Words aren’t good enough anymore, Scott.  Prove it with your actions.”

If Scott had a reply, he didn’t wait to hear it.

[galaxyedging]

I played around with some tropes. Blood, injury, canon type violence, hints of smut, fluff. It's not as exciting as the warnings suggest, I just can't do that 'keep reading' this so I thought I'd better warn people.

Unspoken

"Really?" she whined. After a ridiculously long couple of days, chasing the luckiest quarry in the parsec they had finally decided to take a break. All she wanted to do was clean up and get a good night's sleep before they headed out to find the bastard quarry that had escaped off world. As she shrugged off her backpack her shoulders fell with exhaustion and defeat as she eyed the lone bed in the room. "Do you want to get cleaned up first?" Mando asked over his shoulder. The first thing he had done upon entering the room was place his weapons on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Now he sat cleaning the fine dust, that coated this whole damn planet, off of them. Too tired to even broach the sleeping situation yet, she dragged her feet into the fresher. Thankfully, this planet was only dusty as hell a few months of the year. The rest of the time it rained heavily so water was bountiful. She took her time to wash throughly. Listening out for Mando in the other room she could her him still moving his weapons about so she figured he wasn't in a rush to get in there. Only when she heard someone at the door did she get out from underneath the soothing water. "Who was that?" she asked emerging from the fresher, dabbing at her wet hair with a towel.

"The maid." he tipped his helmet towards a pile of extra pillows and blankets on the bed. Before she could even try to discuss the whole one bed thing, he picked up one of the spare blankets and shook it out. Continuing his movement he lay it on the floor before throwing a couple of pillows on top of it. "Damn dust!" He growled brushing some out from under his vembrace. "Am going to get cleaned up. The bed looks warm enough but I know you're always cold so there's a spare blanket there. If you want to sleep now, you can switch the lamp off, I won't need it."

As he turned to step through the door she realized what he had planned. "You're going to sleep on the floor?"

"Yeah, I didn't think it would appeal to you." she could hear the mirth in his tone as turned back to her, body halfway into the other room. If she had to, she could, and would, sleep in the hardest, most inconvenient places but given the choice she would be wrapped in comfort 24/7.

"Hey!" she chided "I could sleep on the floor!" Even without seeing his face she just knew he had a shit eating grin for occasions like this. Just imagining it made her want to punch him. "We could always share? It's a fairly big bed. It would save you sleeping on the floor."

He paused for moment. "Thank you for the offer but I'll be fine. I've slept in worse places." Another pause. "Plus it's too dangerous for me to take my armour off here. It wouldn't be very comfortable for you to sleep beside...Princess." He quickly managed to duck into the fresher. Shutting the door behind him the wood bore the brunt of her annoyance at his 'Princess' jab.

The next morning she woke up rested. Mando was already up and out. The extra blankets and pillows were neat stacked on the table. All except one, that had somehow found it's way over her in the night.

"You're ok. I've got you." Mando gently rolled his arms out from underneath her as he placed her down on the cot. A coughing fit racked her. The white pillow underneath her became splattered with blood as she fought to clear her throat. He passed her a small metal dish. The same one she use to collect any shrapnel she removed while patching him up. "Spit." he ordered before giving her a sip of water. "Easy, not too much." Once the coughing stopped and he was happy that she could stay still enough, he got to work. The cut to her side was deep, there was bruising. The blood she was coughing up was likely due to her ribs being broken in the impact of that bastard landing on top of her and driving his blade in. Mando was thankful that there was nothing that couldn't be fixed with what supplies they had on the ship and a lot of rest. As he treated her, his thoughts wandered to the quarry that had managed to get the drop on them. It was another case of massive good luck on his part. Mando looked forward to the day his luck would run out. Within a week she was on her feet again. Within two she had, with incredible skill, tracked down the quarry. The bastard now stood in front of Mando taunting him. His luck had held and he'd managed to find another fox hole of criminals to hide in. Mando had taken them all out but not without taking a beating. He'd lost his blaster, his blades, he was the only weapon he had left.

"I thought you'd find me sooner. I was disappointed. I heard so much about the relentless, legendary bounty hunter. Not to mention the fact that I cut up your bitch. I thought you'd be seething and baying for my blood after what I did to her." the bastard spat gleefully.

Mando, who had had his hands up, braced for a fight, dropped back down at his sides. "Why would I be baying for blood? It wasn't me you hurt. 'My bitch' is more than capable of killing you herself." he tipped his head up towards where he had seen the sun glint off her rifle. The bastard just had enough time to turn and widen his eyes in panic as she took him out with a single shot between his eyes. Mando winced at the pain in his side as he sighed in relief. "Am your what now?" her voice came over the comm. "Would you prefer my princess?" He quipped before heading off to retrieve his weapons.

The sound of Baskar crashing to the floor jerked her from her sleep. Once she made sure the kid was ok she quickly slide out of the cubby to investigate the sound. She expected to see a pile of armour on the floor. Din had ripped it off and dumped it on the floor one or twice in frustration. It terrified her when she saw that Din was currently in the pile of armour on the floor. Crossing the distance in seconds she dropped to the floor near him. "No!" he barked at her. Din had a temper, they both did, but he never shouted at her like that. His voice was rougher, strained. He groaned as he clutched his stomach and rolled his body from being on all fours to sitting on his heels, helmet pressed to the floor.

As her terror rose higher, she hoped it didn't show in her voice. "Din? Are you hurt? What do you need?"

"You..." he gritted out "...you need to stay back."

"But what...?" she reached towards him slightly and he withdrew as if she had burned him.

"Toxin...a flower. The thorns cut my arm." his chest heaved rapidly up and down.

"You've been poisoned?!" she wanted to reach for him again but thought better of it.

"Not really. It hurts..." he groaned. Or was that a moan? "...but it won't kill me. Just need to ride it out...you should put me in carbonite." He began to take off pieces of his armour. His pauldrons came off first.

"Carbonite? Really? Is that really better than this? We have meds that can kill the pain." she watched as he struggled to his feet and stumbled towards the carbonite, dropping more armour.

"Won't work...have to protect you." he continued on his way across the ship. His breastplate hit the floor next.

"Protect me?" she was following behind him now. He had his back to her setting up the mobile carbonite unit. "Din? These units have a 60% chance of killing you! Why do you have to protect me? Tell me what's going on?!" she half demanded, half pleaded.

Hissing he turned and propped himself up against the wall. "The toxin helps aid reproduction. It makes people want to f...fornicate so badly that if hurts if they don't. Some strains are lethal...this isn't. It just hurts and I want..." his hand came up to touch her cheek.

She closed her eyes and breathed "If you need to we could..." she trailed off not able to finish it out loud. It wasn't how she thought it would happen but she couldn't deny that she wanted Din.

Snapping his hand back he shuffled away. "No! You deserve better. When we...it won't be like this. Please."

The desperation in his tone broke her. By now he only had his flight suit and helmet on. "Fine." she whispered "You'll need to take your helmet off. I won't look. In fact you better step into the chamber facing away from me so I don't see your face when you're frozen."

Nodding his understanding, he turned around. As his helmet came off, exposing his hair, she took a second to admire his soft, brown, curls. Before smashing a metal pipe into his head.

32 hours later Din woke up in his cubby with a banging headache. On the shelf next to his head was a bottle of water. Lifting his helmet, he guzzle it down gratefully. Replacing the helmet he crawled out to find her. Following the sound of the kid gurgling, he found her in the cockpit. "How are you feeling?" she asked with a smile.

That smile instantly made him relax. He was worried he did something wrong while he poisoned. "Ok. Thank you. What..er..what happened?" he tried to seem nonchalant as he lower himself in his chair.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she bounced the baby on her knee as she spoke. Much to the little one's delight.

"I was about to step into the carbonite. Then just sort of hazy dreams." he reached forward to stroke the kids head. This earned a happy squeal.

Her smile grew. "Well, when you turned your back, I knocked you out cold. I put your helmet back on. When you started to come to I knocked you back out with some meds. The second time you woke up you said you needed to pee. I walked you to the fresher. You insisted on singing to me, in what I think was Mando'a, the entire time. I gave you more meds. The next pee break included you trying to dance with me and swing me in circles. More meds and here we are."

Din was incredibly grateful that he had Baskar covering his face or she would have seen how red his cheeks were. Singing and dancing were reserved for Mandalorian celebrations, like the wedding he had been dreaming about. The one that would allow him to show her his face. "Am sorry."

"You don't need to apologise Din." she swiftly cut him off. "You were trying to protect me. Willing to risk hurting yourself, or worse, out of respect for me. Thank you." she gave the hand that had been stroking the child's fuzzy, green head a squeeze before handing Din the kid and headed down to make breakfast.

"Did you love it?!" Peli exclaimed as the woman made her way into the office. It took her a moment to realise Peli was talking about the classic romance novel she recommended.

"It was good." Peli scrunched her face at the other woman's unenthusiastic tone and came to stand in front of her, head framed with wild curls tilted up staring the woman in the eyes. "It was a bit cliched."

"Ha!" Peli laughed heartily. "You and that tin can are a walking cliche. Travelling all over hell and gone for months as 'just friends' now you're lovers. Talk about a slow burn."

The other woman nearly choked at the 'lovers' part. It was true but she didn't know how Peli knew.

"I don't miss a trick. I see those little, tiny touches on your arms, shoulders and hands. Coming from that repressed sack of bolts, he might as well throw you down and claim you on my floor. Friends to lovers. Walking cliche." Peli chuckled.

Suddenly feeling defensive the woman spoke up. "Actually, building a friendship takes time. You have to earn trust. Build a conscious connection. I was in love with him before we built that bond. My heart fell before my head. We were never friends, always lovers, it was just unspoken."

Peli let out suppressed sob, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve. "Now that's a love story."

[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

[poisonedapples]

The sides except they go to a tech school

This is extremely self indulgent but I apologize for nothing

Roman’s Program: Digital Media

Roman’s big dream is to be an actor, but he also has a very intense need to know a whole bunch of stuff about the production field and be a jack of all trades, basically

He’s also autistic and has a huge special interest in movies, so he’s just on cloud nine

He had a really hard time making friends at his home school, which is also another reason why he most to go to the tech school instead. He wanted a second chance and to meet new people who loved the same stuff he could never seem to shut up about, but he’s also very nervous and just really wants to make some friends this year

He’s also extremely salty that Remus followed him to his new school. Remus was always the talk of the school and Roman was always in his shadow, so this time, his strategy is to pretend that Remus doesn’t even exist

Remus will not take this as an a solution, but Roman’s not giving up anyway

He also met Patton, Logan, and Virgil in his College English class. Their seats were assigned next to each other, but it was Patton that actually started getting all of them to talk to each other

Speaking of Patton, him and Patton went together like a moth to a flame. They hit it off day one and have acted like the best of friends since, and it makes Roman extremely happy

Roman and the others also became closer friends because of a Digital Media project Roman did about the different programs around the school. Since all his friends are from different programs, he interviewed them all, and it was the most fun project ever because of everything they did behind the scenes

They mostly just goofed off when not on camera. It was lovely

He refused to let Remus take part in that project though. RIP to Remus

Patton’s program: Cosmotology

Patton’s biggest dream is to mostly help people feel better about themselves. He wants to make people feel happy and learn a little more self love, because nothing makes Patton happier than seeing other people enjoying themselves

He’s also an extremely sociable person, so a need to help people like who they are mixed with lots of talking? Without getting a master’s in psychology? A perfect mix to become a hair stylist!

He loves all the different styles you can do and how different everyone’s hair can be from another person’s. The program also has you learn stuff about makeup, and he loves putting makeup on people as well. He practices on the girls in the program a lot, and they always get so excited when they see the finished product. It fills him with happy butterflies

He doesn’t tend to wear makeup on himself, though. Not because he thinks boys can’t wear makeup, he just hates the feeling of it on his skin. Hence why he will take any willing participant to be his canvas

His extroverted energy also shows a lot in his academic classes. The first day of English, he immediately turned around and started talking to the kid with a camera

It took him a little longer to get the boy sitting next to him to talk to him though. Apparently “We have the same glasses!” Isn’t an acceptable conversation starter

He did, however, get the kid named Virgil to agree to let Patton to put makeup on him. Patton started that conversation by asking about his eyeshadow, but nope, apparently those were just eyebags

Though Virgil still liked makeup anyway, so score, Patton still got what he wanted

Now if only he could get Logan to laugh out loud and cut the serious act. Then he’d be a winner for sure

Logan: Mechatronics

Logan’s a nerd. A huge nerd. Hence why he fits in with the mechatronics program so well

Logan has always loved robots and tinkering with technology. More than anything, he wants to work on space aircrafts as a mechanical engineer, hence why he’s in the mechatronics program

He also has ADHD and his biggest hyperfixations are in robots and space, so he’s completely in his element. It’s nice to spend most of his day in a class where he can talk about spacecrafts and how they worked, and not only will people listen, but they’ll also care about it almost as much as he does

Though, he’d prefer to keep his closet full of robotic kids toys he keeps breaking apart and fixing again to himself. At least for now

Though because he’s in mechatronics, he’s required to be in all advanced classes for his academics to get college credit. Which he doesn’t mind at all, but in his college English class, he definitely sits next to quite...the eclectic bunch

He acts like they inconvenience him, but he actually enjoys their company. Even if Roman can be a little loud, but him and Roman actually hit it off quite well with their debates and frequent conversation jumping

(It’s the ADHD-autism solidarity)

Logan also has quite the liking to Virgil, mostly because they’re both looking into the engineering business and have similar interests with space

Logan pretends like Patton annoys him, but he’s not very good at it. He hates that Patton knows he has a secret love for puns and keeps using it against him to try and make him laugh. How dare he

(Patton just keeps trying because he knows Logan likes it and he’s also a bit of a little shit)

Logan hopes that all three of them consider him one of their closest friends as well. Because actually, now he has more to look forward to in his English class than just the poetry and seeking for alternate meanings for things in text

Now, most of his entertainment comes from saying “Romeo and Juliet is an awful love story” and seeing Roman go off an a rant about how it’s not even a lOVE STORY it’s about THE GENERATION DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PARENTS AND KIDS and it’s STRUGGLES, CALCULATOR WATCH-

...It’s quite amusing

Virgil’s Program: Aviation

Anxiety is fight or flight. Well...Virgil literally just wants to take flight

His dad used to take Virgil out on vacations quite often when he was younger and his dad’s job was more focused on traveling, so Virgil has flown in planes a lot. He’s always been an anxious kid, always afraid of so many things, but for some reason...flying was one of the things to calm him the most

Except for going through security, fuck airport security

But still, there was never anything more satisfying than looking through the window on a plane. He’s always loved it, and he’s known since a very young age that he wants to learn to fly things, even if he decides not to become a pilot

He’s seventeen now and still wants to be a pilot, even if his shyness has turned into an anxiety disorder. It’s been a while since he’s been on a plane since his dad is now a psychologist, but he still loves it and misses it almost. So when he heard his district’s tech school had an aviation program, he signed up so fast

His teacher has to practically pry him away from messing with the drones and planes when they need to do other stuff, it’s kinda funny

It’s also great that he met Logan in his English class, because Logan loves engineering and aircrafts like Virgil does. One of Virgil’s backup plans is to be an aerospace engineer, so their conversations are always fun

He also has no idea how Patton figured out his secret love of makeup but now he’s being used as a canvas, apparently

Plus, Roman asked if Virgil could fly a drone for him to get an aerial shot for some digital media projects, so holy shit Virgil made three friends in one day when he’s been trying to make one friend for YEARS

He just bursts into his house like “DAD GUESS WHAT I MADE F R I E N D S”

His Dad is very proud but also very concerned

Virgil just ignores that though and sends memes to the new group chat with all four of them in it

Remus’ Program: Auto Collision Technology

Remus loves broken stuff. Especially big broken things, like cars

Of course, there’s no job for purposely wrecking stuff, but looking at damage in cars and how to repair it is exciting enough for him. His parents are just happy he found something to put more...positive energy into, instead of always causing trouble and getting popular for being “the bad boy”

He had lots of friends at his home school, lots of which he still talks to, mostly because his chaotic energy entertains a lot of people willing to deal with it. He has that same effect at the tech school, but the one person he’s never been able to get more on his side is his own brother

Remus has always been a bit too chaotic for Roman’s liking, and he knows that Roman wanted to go to the tech school for a fresh start. But Remus won’t stop himself just to make his brother happy, so it Roman’s salty about Remus doing something good for himself, then so be it

(Remus is a little salty about Roman being salty, but they’re brothers, what do you expect)

But Remus doesn’t need him anyway! Twin brothers are overrated! He’s got plenty of other people in his programs!

But his closest friend he’s gotten since coming to the tech school? Janus. Him and Janus go together like two chaotic peas in a pod, even if Janus has a whole lot more braincells than Remus ever will

Though, Remus has never had more fun with a friend than with Janus. He’s had lots of friends that come and go once they’re bored of him, but Janus feels real. He feels genuine, and Remus...really doesn’t wanna get rid of that

He likes Janus a lot, hence why he invites Janus over and lets Janus into his super secret eating spot he goes when he doesn’t wanna act like a crackhead at lunch. It’s actually quite nice

Roman just has to deal with the fact that, if he’s gonna be a salty bastard, then Janus is his new ride or die

(Please someone help these twins they’re saltier than the Dead Sea)

Janus’ Program: Firefighting Technology

When Janus was a young teen, he got trapped in a house fire that scarred the left half of his body. Firefighters were the ones that saved him, and since then, he’s always had a huge respect for them. Enough so to really want to become a firefighter

He’s always been very focused on self care and secretly very empathetic, so that mixed with past experience from being saved from such a dangerous event actually makes him a great candidate for a firefighter. He’s not one giant on talking, but he’s still good with teamwork when others want him to work with them

He has a good set of friends in his program, but his best friend was someone he met during lunch when trying to get away from the noise of the actual cafeteria. He also noticed that same kid was also in his anatomy class, so...destiny, I guess?

Remus can definitely be an eclectic person, but Janus secretly thrives on a good set of chaos. It makes life interesting, and Remus can definitely be described as interesting

He’s also the only person Janus has met that thinks Janus’ scars are cool as hell, so double win

It’s also immensely entertaining to join Remus on his quests to constantly annoy his brother. If he had a brother he’d probably do the same, honestly

Mostly, he’s just here for the chaotic ride. He gets to be a sarcastic bastard with a secret love for the dramatic flair and somehow make friends at the same time

He still needs to find a way to get under Patton’s skin, though. Patton never gets bothered by Janus, but that’s probably because Patton has known Janus as his neighbor for literal years

Damn him. Janus will get him some time

Though for right now, Remus gets most of the wins of weirding out Patton. That is, until Roman shrieks and chases them both off

Yup. Janus chose a good best friend. Even if he’s a chaotic, salty bastard

[cami-chats]

College Boyfriend

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves/Diego Hargreeves

Summary: Five was a condescending know-it-all, made all the worse to his project partners by the fact that he did know all of the material already. The university wifi crashing ends with them at Five's apartment, and they leave with more questions about his personal life than before.

Read below or on AO3

Five liked his life. It was strange to think after so many years of not being content let alone happy, but he was. All of his siblings were a phone call away. Allison was on the other side of the country, but she was still reachable. The Academy had gotten a makeover, so Vanya and Klaus had moved back in with Luther.

And then of course there was Diego, but Five saw Diego every single day in the apartment they shared. Convincing Diego to move out of his back room at the gym hadn't been as easy as Five had imagined, but in the end, he'd been triumphant. Diego still worked at the gym in the evenings, but now he stayed at their apartment in the day or visited the Academy instead of wasting away in that dank hole-- Five's words, not Diego's.

Five spent his days at college, attending classes and doing his homework, and he spent his nights kissing Diego. It was a nice little arrangement, if he did say so. He could've stood to look a little older, though. Diego looked the thirty-five years old that he was, but Five looked to be, at most, twenty-five. He'd like to be forty, maybe forty-five. Forty-five was a nice age. Comfortable in your own skin, but not so old that you were falling apart. He couldn't deny that there was still a bit of an itch under his skin from being so young, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as being a teenager had been.

Looking like he was twenty let him do what he wanted, without any of the aches and pains that age brought. Still. He could've done without his professors talking down, like they knew more than him. Like Doctor Davis, who taught his Shakespeare class. She said that she'd been studying Shakespeare for ten years, and Five wanted to tell her that that wasn't shit because he'd spent a full fifteen years arguing with Delores about Lady Macbeth's motivation-- and they'd disagreed to the very end. But he couldn't say that, which meant he and Doctor Davis spent a lot of time glaring at each other when they talked. He was pretty sure he was the sole reason she'd decided to give them a fucking group project, but she wouldn't admit as much. Diego thought it was funny the way he thought everything was funny when it didn't concern him. What an ass.

*

Five was a pretty weird guy. He was condescending-- which wasn't that weird-- but he actually already knew all the material. There was no reason for him to be in the class other than the degree requirement. It was really easy to be condescending when you were right, they guessed. 'They' being Five's unfortunate partners for the group project that they had in Shakespeare. Five had protested loudly at a group project, but Doctor Davis had only shrugged and said it was part of the curriculum.

They met up at the campus library two times before, and this was the third time so they could finish. Things were going pretty well-- or at least, they started going well once they figured out that Five's insults weren't personal and he didn't really care. It was more like he had no brain to mouth filter, so that every little thought came out where most people would've stopped before saying it-- even with that being said, he was still annoying. They didn't like him, and he didn't like them. For the most part, they ignored that to get the work done.

They were so close to finishing. Another two hours, and they'd be set.

That was when the internet went out. For all of them. They were in the middle of restarting their laptops and reconnecting to the wifi when an announcement went over the PA. "Attention to all occupants. The campus internet is out, and we've been told that it won't be fixed until tomorrow morning at the earliest. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Shit," Allen breathed. "Does anyone live off campus? I'm in the dorms."

"Me too," Aisha said with a worried frown.

"I live in the sorority house, but it's the same wifi as the campus," Judy said.

None of them really wanted to ask Five, but after clenching his jaw for a moment, he answered on his own. "I guess we can go to my apartment."

"Okay, cool," Allen said, trying not to sound as thrown as he was, and they all started packing up now that they knew what the plan was. "Thanks."

"How long does it take to get to your place on the bus?" Judy asked.

Then, looking even more uncomfortable than before, Five said, "I'll just drive us."

"You have a car?" Judy said, surprised. Five didn't bother to answer, but after seeing the car, it became clear that Five was loaded. What other college kid had a Rolls Royce? She half expected for him to pull up to a swanky condo, but he went to an ordinary looking apartment building and parked.

Every inch of his posture screamed that he didn't want to be inviting them to where he lived, but they were sort of out of options for other places to go. There were coffee shops and shit, but with the campus wifi out, every student that lived in the dorms would be filling those places and there wouldn’t be room for all of them.

Five unlocked the door, and they all filed in, not knowing what to expect from his place. Walls of books would've fit right in with his know-it-all aura, but an empty living room with no decoration also wouldn't have been out of place. The way his living room actually looked was almost too normal. There was a tv set up on a stand that probably hadn't been made for it. There was a small bookshelf stuffed more books than it could easily hold. One couch and a banged up coffee table in front of it with various items on it. There was a poster for an Allison Hargreeves movie on the wall, and what looked like an oil painting.

The thing that really got to them was that Five didn't live alone. It was obvious in the way the living room was built to accommodate two people-- the two hooks for coats and the indent of where two pairs of shoes usually sat at the door, not to mention the set of dishes by the sink that couldn't only be accounted for with only one person. His roommate was either as weird as him, or a normal person trying to ignore his eccentricities, and his project partners hoped that they'd never have the chance to figure it out.

Five grabbed an index card from the tv stand and put it on the coffee table while he worked on clearing the rest of it off. Aisha glanced at the card and realized it was the wifi network information. She pulled out her laptop and tapped impatiently as she waited for it to boot up. She got her internet set up, then passed the index card to Allen since he was next to her. She took a glance around but didn't see an outlet. Her laptop's battery was shit; she wouldn't be able to make it through the evening without plugging it in.

"Hey Five?" Aisha said, the end of her charger in one hand.

He glanced over at her, then nodded to the right of her. "It's at the edge of the couch."

"Thanks."

None of them made themselves comfortable, knowing that this wasn't a social visit. It was an awkward hour as they hurriedly worked, but they didn't get a chance to finish before they were interrupted. And when the interruption came, it came in a big way. Like a fucking superstar walking into the room, because that's exactly what happened. It was Allison Hargreeves! Allison fucking Hargreeves walked into the place holding a massive picture frame.

There was no way Allison Hargreeves was the one who lived here. Simply no way. She had a kid and shit, didn't she? And she wouldn't settle for living in a place like this-- it wasn't a dump or anything, but it wasn't where a famous movie star would live. What the hell was she doing here? Come to think of it, Five's last name was Hargreeves, wasn't it? Maybe they were related somehow. It would certainly explain the expensive car and the better-than-you attitude. Hell, if Aisha had Allison Hargreeves for a sister, she'd think that she was better than everyone else, too.

Another woman walked up behind her, looking like a housewife straight out of a fifties advertisement, from the smile on her face to her perfectly coiffed hair to the short heels on her feet that matched her skirt.

"Oh hey Five," Allison fucking Hargreeves said, like she saw him everyday.

He glanced over at her. "Did you seriously fly over from LA to go shopping with Grace?" Then his eyes flickered over to the other woman. "Hi Grace."

"Hello Five, darling," she said. It was kind of unimaginable that Five let anyone call him darling, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

"Actually," Allison Hargreeves said, "I came over to hang out with Diego, and he wanted to go shopping with Mom. I didn't have anything better to do, so I tagged along. He said you were busy tonight." She glanced over at them and smiled, then gave a little wave with her free hand.

They all waved back numbly. "We're working on a group project together," Judy managed to say.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Grace-- Mom??-- asked.

"No," Five said bluntly. "We're not friends."

"You really should make some friends," Grace said, her smile still in place. "They're important for your social development." All he had to do was look at her, and she said, "Sorry dear. It's instinct."

"I can be out of your hair soon, if you want," Allison Hargreeves said.

"Whose hair are we getting out of?" a man asked, kicking the door closed. You ever look at a guy and think 'I don't want to fuck with him'? Yeah, that was this guy. The paper bags he was holding from shopping weren't intimidating, but his clothes barely hid a strong physique, and the scar on his head only added to the badass factor he had going on. Allen was pretty sure the only people that owned boots like that were familiar with breaking people's bones, and he shrank in on himself slightly without thinking about it. Then he saw Five and said, "Hey babe." He said it to Five. Was... was he Five's boyfriend?! Was Five living here with his boyfriend?? "Something wrong with the library?"

"The internet decided to die," he said wryly. "We're almost done."

"Cool." Five's boyfriend (probably boyfriend??) walked towards the bedroom, and Allison Hargreeves and that Grace woman followed him. The door stayed open, but it was far enough away that when they spoke, the group could only hear the murmurs of their voices and not the words that were being said.

They were distracted for a little while by the fact that they'd just met Allison Hargreeves, the most famous and talented actress in Hollywood, but they managed to get the rest of the work done without wasting too much time.

If it were anyone other than Five, they probably would've been able to get an official introduction to her-- maybe a picture or two-- but they finished the project, gave it a quick read-through to make sure there was nothing obvious missing, and then they were being ushered out. Aisha got out her phone and ordered an Uber as they packed up.

Five turned his head and called, "We're done!" down the hallway.

As they left, Judy saw Five kiss the man that had walked in with Allison Hargreeves and Grace. Definitely his boyfriend, then, though personally, she thought that he was too old for Five. She knew better than to say that aloud, so she just said goodbye and that she'd see him in class.

They were all glad that they only had the one class with Five.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Unhelpful ~ S.E.

A/n: Tried not to get too triggering with this for my own sake, so I hope it still delivered the characters

Request: “...Could you do a book on Samuel Emerson, Where her mother hate Samuel, and doesn't want her to see him but Y/N meets him when he does his Shakespearean plays, and he walks with him until her mother sees him with Y/N and there is a really big argument with her mum, and Samuel's dad joins in and then it doesn't help at all.” by @disneyqueenpixar63 (for some reason it won’t let me tag you, so I’ll just message it to you when I’m done)

Word Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

Love was hard enough without life and difficult parents getting involved. It was hard enough when you had to struggle for food and to keep your place in your home, let alone trying to fit some sort of romance in the spare moments there were between the panic and sleepless nights worrying and handling the pressure of a dad that was more a burden than anything.

It was hard enough to live with a mother who could never approve of your even if you were perfect, let alone trying to get her to approve of a boy as well. It showed when Y/n brought her boyfriend Samuel home. He'd needed a moment away from home and Y/n had been confident her place would have been better. Her mother had quickly dashed that idea by running Sam out and spending hours and hours after he was gone screaming at Y/n for anything she could think of. It didn't matter that Y/n and Sam weren't having sex, or that they'd been sitting int he living room and in plain sight and just talking and obviously not up to anything questionable at all. Y/n had made the decision to give her heart to Samuel Emerson, so her mother disapproved and she was having absolutely none of it.

That, of course, didn't stop them from seeing each other. They'd avoided Sam's dad knowing about Y/n thus far and were keeping it that way. They wanted their parents part of their relationship as little as possible - especially after Y/n's mom's reaction.

So they were apart at nights, unless they snuck out to meet in secret, which was rare and only in dire circumstances when one absolutely had enough and needed the other. Most of the time they met when Sam was performing. It was where they had first met, so it felt fittingly poetic to do so again and again when they were supposed to be banned from doing it at all. Y/n was in a similar situation that Sam was in, except her mother wasn't addicted to alcohol but men. Thankfully the men came with money, but not enough to keep them fed, so Y/n spent time doing small jobs like mowing lawns and babysitting and dog walking. It was a celebration when she'd turned 15 and had been able to get a job at the car wash. All these things helped her to stay out of her house as much as possible and earn money to pay for food and even save some. Her mom handled the rent at the very least.

After Y/n got off her shift, Sam was wrapping up his performances as the sun began to set and the traffic died down and it was therefore useless to perform. There was no crowd. So, he waited for Y/n and then they'd walk home together. Or, as far home as they could get without being seen. Sam had gotten used to taking an alternate path as not to pass by Y/n's house. They'd at first found it amusing that he had walked past her house on his way home every single day without even knowing the other existed, but now it was just annoying and inconvenient and another thing on a long list of things that had been ruined for them by their parents.

Today, Y/n was having a rough day. She was more relieved than usual to end her day, but only because it meant seeing Sam again. That short walk was most of their interaction, though if Sam could pull off taking a break from performing when it was Y/n's break they would often take lunch together as well. Recently they hadn't been able to pull that off and they'd had to rush home a lot because Y/n's mom was needy and Sam's dad was irritable. Tonight though, they took their time.

They defied their parents the best way they could: despite everything, they allowed themselves to be happy. They walked and they held hands and they enjoyed the cool night air and they just talked and nothing could stop them.

Perhaps that was why Sam missed his turn. Maybe that's why he got too far, walking too long with his girlfriend without realizing where he was and just letting his feet take him down the path both his mind and heart wanted to take. The path that he had taken for years, memorizing as a second nature. The path that would give him more time with Y/n, which is what he wanted more than anything.

The walk ended abruptly when Y/n's mother saw the pair walking up to the hose, smiling and holding hands. She wasn't just impossible to get approval from - she was also bitter. She was the kind of woman who saw other people being happy where she was miserable and refused to tolerate it. Usually she just had to walk away. Today, she could lash out.

"Y/n." The world of light shattered for Y/n when she heard her mother's voice. Any good feeling she had withered and weeds of terror grew in their place.

Slowly the young girl looked over to the woman who had birthed her, and Sam watched with a terrible feeling in his chest as Y/n's face drained of color and her hand clung to his like if she let go, she would be pulled into oblivion still kicking. He wanted to make that smile come back to her face but... he knew first hand that lashing out at a nasty parent only got worse results. So he stayed quiet and vowed to make it up to her tomorrow. Perhaps he'd go a bit longer and perform her favorite poem so she could hear it.

That was tomorrow though. Tonight was already bad, and it had only just begun.

"Mom." She swallowed, blinking as she tried to orient herself. "Hello."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Hello?" There was a threat to her voice that made Sam seize. The teenagers clung to each other, unsure how to undo this disaster. "I told you, Y/n. I TOLD YOU-" She began to approach them, shoving a finger in Y/n's chest so hard that Y/n had to take a step back, wincing from pain. The girl's free hand rose to rub the spot. "What did I tell you?"

Y/n looked at Sam for answers and then saw the boy breaking down. She saw the fear that had been taught to him by situations just like this with a much more dangerous man involved. She saw his fear and helplessness and she felt herself switch from cowering to protective. She stepped forward, drawing the attention to her and away from Sam. "You told me not to see Sam. Why? You never told me why."

"Because he's a boy," Her mother spit. It obviously wasn't the real reason, but as Y/n's mother had been trained to hate men after a life of being only abused by them, it wasn't far from one of the truths she believed at least.

"Sam is different," Y/n insisted. When her mother went to talk, she spoke louder. "He's different! And I know I'm young and it probably won't last because nothing ever does with our stupid species, but he's a good boy and he likes me and I like him and I think I've denied myself of things I want long enough. He makes me happy, and why would I stop that? Just because in the future we might break up?"

The older woman considered that. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Y/n demanded. "Failure?"

"Precisely," the woman responded firmly.

Y/n rolled her eyes. That was not the correct response. Her mother got visibly agitated, but Y/n wasn't done yet. "Well it's not a guaranteed failure, and if you stop me from that then you also stop me from possible success. I'm allowed to make my own mistakes."

The woman scoffed. "Oh, so now you know everything? PLEASE forgive me for trying to guide and love and protect you." Her eyes drifted to Sam and then light with an emotion that Y/n didn't like. "Look at how much he's changed you already. Look at you acting all big and tough and putting on a show for a little boy who can't even defend you. Look at him cower! He's pathetic!"

Their voices had elevated enough that lights had begun turning on. In the distant Y/n heard Sam whimper and it was just enough to draw her attention to what was behind her mother's shoulder.

A man who was unmistakably Mr. Emerson. And from the sway in his path as he walked, he was intoxicated. Y/n made herself bigger as best she could, shielding both adults from the boy who had migrated behind her at this point.

"You talking about my son?" His voice was low and gruff and already aggressive.

"Dad-" Sam began, but he was cut off by Y/n's mother.

"What if I am?" She sneered. "I can't believe this boy you raised is such a coward. Aren't you ashamed of yourself for raising such a wimp? What kind of man raises such a child, who can't even stand up for a girl he's stupid enough to stay with even though I've told her not to be around him. He's okay with the action but not the consequences. He'll never be a man like that."

Sam's dad did not seem pleased by that. "You want to blame me for how he turned out?" He scoffed. "Parents can only do so much. Not my fault if he can't speak up. Though with the likes of you, you're not worth his time and effort."

Very soon, it escalated. Soon it became too much and Y/n turned to Sam and pulled him after her, running off into the darkness.

Tonight they'd be together. On the streets perhaps, but neither could go back to those houses where more arguments would ensue. If they came back tomorrow instead, they wouldn't have to deal with the anger. Their parents would have calmed and after the argument, Y/n's mom might have even moved on and lost interest and let Y/n make her mistakes or whatever. Things would be different tomorrow. Different than tonight.

It was worth sleeping on the streets for one night, so they did. Wrapped in each other's arms, it was far less than it would have been int heir houses, or alone. They could be okay with this. After all, it wasn't anything new. Just another day, another problem. One of many they would handle together.

[another-writer]

Muted Colours

Summary: After a botched mission resulting in you taken captive, your team breaks you out.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: None? Some really brief mention of blood? Also Bucky being a literal fluff because why not.

Bucky knew you had to be alive. Only because he refused to conceive of anything otherwise. He was lying awake in the common area of the compound on his back, several screens surrounding him with various information reading locations and identities of the people he had managed to apprehend on the mission that had resulted in you -

In you getting left behind.

The image sent Bucky spiralling. He didn’t see you get taken. But he remembered running back to the jet, last in line, Tony yelling through the comms for everyone to retreat back, being too overwhelmed with enemy fire. When the hatch closed, Bucky had searched desperately for you - thought it wasn’t as if there was anywhere in the small jet you could hide.

Tony and Sam had scanned from the sky for you before the jet took off; there wasn’t a trace of you. You weren’t answering on the comms. And the best case scenario was for them all to assume you were taken captive.

So the priority became to get you back. There was enough of a lead, but any known location didn’t happen to hold you. And over time, nearly a month, your absence had become more and more of a lead block in Bucky’s mind, absorbing light and energy and he refused to succumb to it.

‘Anything?’

Bucky sat up at Natasha’s voice breaking the silence.

‘Waiting for a breakthrough,’ he admitted.

Natasha raised a brow and leaned against the doorframe. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve thought about sleeping while you wait?’

Bucky bit his lip, unable to meet her expectant stare. ‘We didn’t have much time, and she got separated so early, I know, but ... I feel like I should’ve been more careful.’

‘[Y/N] can watch herself the same as any of us can, it just ... wasn’t her day,’ Natasha said. For morale’s sake, she was doing her best to minimise the uncomfortable pit in her stomach. ‘When we’re out there, all of us are equally responsible for each other. This isn’t just on you.’

‘So what now?’ Bucky asked, trying not to sound defeated.

‘You haven’t slept. Go to bed; I'll wake Steve at a reasonable hour, we’ll work on it and wake you in the morning.’

Your hair was matted and you had dried blood from an open cut on your lip from your fight from last night. Given the circumstances, you were relatively well taken care of. You were a prize fighter in an underground tournament - your captors’ financial success depended on your survival. An Avenger participating against their will and purely for survival? Total cash grab.

So, at least you were guaranteed to live, so long as you kept winning.

Part of you knew you were lucky to be alive. On your first night in your cell, you worried about the others, whether they had all gotten away; the mission - hopefully - hadn’t been a total failure. You had been taken, sure, but perhaps in the midst of it all, the others had been able to complete it. They couldn’t have ended up where you were because you figured you would have fought them by now. You wondered whether they were looking for you. You thought about them nearly all the time - your training from Natasha (one of the most seasoned hand-to-hand combatants you knew) was what was keeping you alive in the ring; hers and Steve’s ability to maintain team morale kept you focused. But you missed Bucky the most. He was everything wrapped into one, your best friend, your confidant, a growing team player, an overall comfort zone.

You took a deep breath in and out through your nose. Remembering your team kept your hope steady but you couldn’t let it distract you. You weren’t sure how long you had been here, but you were embarrassed to admit you weren’t sure how you would get out.

You didn’t know exactly where you were, either. You had awoken in a cell, after falling unconscious, and were promptly led into an arena with a crowd of spectators. When a stranger - lumbering, tall, bloody and bruised - lunged at you, you figured you didn’t have much time for questions and quickly acclimated to the situation.

Currently, you were re-taping your knuckles to stem the bleeding sustained last night, as you were escorted to the ring through musty, poorly-lit corridors. You didn’t know who your opponents were. They were all good fighters - agile, strong, fast. You figured you were lucky, rather than better. You handed the gauze back to the guard walking you. Another opened the door.

A handful of dim spotlights lit the arena. The steel door was shut behind you, creating an echo that sent the spectators into a frenzy. You were welcomed by the buzzing crowd placing last-minute bets and screaming in excitement for you. The only thing that separated you from them was a steel fence.

Suddenly, you heard a strangled, stifled cry - it contrasted against the frequency of the spectators and your eyes flitted to the crowd who instantly were kicked into an unfamiliar mania.

Among shouts, the dim lights were accompanied by bright flashlights. You saw armoured men and women swarm the arena.

Heart pounding, you kept your eyes on the door where your opponent should have entered from, nearly going dizzy from the suspense before you steadily backed away to your own door. It would have been just your luck if you were arrested too.

But no one was letting you back out. You pressed yourself against the door, hearing bullets fire and rocket off the concrete as the arena’s guards began firing.

The door opposite you then swung open, hard enough to smack harshly into the wall and after a beat -

‘James?’

His stance was solid; rifle aimed and ready, black bulletproof vest and combat gear, dusty and matted like he had run through a war zone. But when he saw you, his eyes softened, and he lowered his weapon. You noticed how tired he looked. His skin was unusually pale.

‘God, I never thought I’d see you again,’ he breathed.

The sofftness of his voice constrasted sharply; it was as if everything else was muted.

Bucky wasted no time, striding across the arena, ready to engulf you in his arms and take you away, but when you faltered and immediately took a step back, he slowed and stopped a few feet away from you.

Your hands were in fists, shoved in the pockets of your black cargo pants; your entire body was aching to the point where it was numbing, breath hitched. Your bones felt like metal scaffolding scraping against each other. It was as if you finally felt tired. You stood stiffly, looking much more menacing than you felt. The light from the corridor behind Bucky flooded the otherwise dimly-lit room. You were able to leave - yet, part of you didn’t want to accept it in case it wasn’t true.

Bucky bit his lip. A strand of hair had fallen over his eye; he was trying to find a balance between his reaction to seeing you and keeping his focus. His stare honed in on a dark, blackening bruise under your right eye, your bleeding hands matted with dirt.

Bucky’s instict kicked in, grounded by the gunfire. As much as you were clearly hurt, it wasn’t the time to worry over the damage. He had to get you out first.

‘[Y/N], we don’t have time,’ he said carefully, taking the tactical belt from around his waist and holding it out to you; there were several grenades and a shotgun hanging from it. A small earpiece balanced between his fingers.

Your teeth gritted. As a strange discomfort swelled in your stomach, you took the belt with a shaking hand and wrapped it around you, adjusting the length so that it fit, and put the earpiece in place. A chill ran down your spine when your earpiece picked up familiar voices. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

Relieved, Bucky lead you out from where he had come. Your corridor was free from fire; you saw a handful of unconscious guards lying on the floor. The sounds were muted for a while, and slowly they began to grow again. But it wasn’t the sound of a gambling crowd, or arrests, it was pure battle.

‘Stay behind me,’ Bucky said lowly.

The both of you worked in tandem, you staying more careful since you were largely unprotected, shooting then taking cover.

When you worked your way to the main hanger, a hundred feet from the entrance, you spotted Natasha across the room from the corner of your eye and were nearly decaptitated by the flying red, white and blue shield before ducking and allowing it to slam into a guard behind you.

That damn platter of patriotism.

You bit your lip, a grin forming on your lips. You picked the shield up and used it to defend yourself  as you fired several bullets all meeting their targets, before using all your might to throw the shield back in Steve’s direction.

Bucky glanced at you quickly, admiration amalgamating in the pit of his stomach. You looked like yourself. Or at least, your survival instincts were kicked in. Whatever you had been through, at least you were able to hold your ground.

It wasn’t long before Bucky was ushering you outside, the Quinjet hovering in the distance and approaching. The fight began to wind down behind you, arrests were being made; you thought you heard Tony talking to one of the cops but everything began to blur. When you stepped outside of the steel doors and felt the freezing air on your skin, saw the beginnings of the sun filtering through the dark sky lighting it a delicate purple - it all fell away. You welcomed the biting cold, the pinpricks along your arms and the tussling wind caused by the Quinjet’s engines as it landed close to you. You could have lay down and gone to sleep there and then.

When you entered, you couldn’t help it: you unfurled the utility belt and dropped it lazily in the corner, accepting the shock blanket that Bruce offered you, and wrapped it around yourself, allowing your knees to buckle, and curled up contentedly on the floor of the jet behind the passenger seats. It was an inconvenient placement, but it was available. And at least it was clean.

You heard footsteps, your team entering the jet, which prompted you to sit up and lean against the wall. You felt the shock blanket fall around you but your arms felt too heavy to lift it back.

‘[Y/N], lemme take a look,’ Bucky’s voice was gentle; he knelt in front of you, hand edging towards yours, picking it up and unravelling the botched layers of bandages. His touch was gentle and familiar and it didn’t take long for you to melt into him; a lump formed in your throat and your eyes began to water.

You watched him work, wincing at the sting of the anti-septic. ‘So,’ you breathed, steadying your voice, eyes flitting to the team, ‘we got everyone this time?’

Your humour was met with a ripple of relief that ran through the aircraft; despite their obvious success in getting you out and shutting the underground arena down, you had noticed a tension that you badly wanted to lift. It was as if they were waiting for you to give the green light.

‘Glad to see you in one piece,’ Natasha said as Bucky applied a paste to the bruise under your eye. ‘We should’ve brought snacks.’

You smirked. ‘Yeah, you should have.’

Bucky snickered, mostly out of repose, lifting your hand after sealing the bandage, and kissing your palm gently, leaning over to then kiss your forehead before engulfing you tightly. You felt the heat creep up your neck - Bucky wasn’t usually affectionate in front of other people.

‘Ease up,’ you said, meaning to sound affectionate but your exhaustion was amplified. ‘I’m all gross.’ As he pulled away, you squeezed his arms, calming him.

Bucky bit his lip, his forehead creasing slightly like he was finally starting to feel the overwhelming wave flood him. ‘Doll, I’m so s-’

‘James, c’mon don’t,’ you wavered, your eyes glossing over his face, taking in his piercing eyes that were glazed with comfort but also concern. You ran your fingers through his hair tenderly, resting your hand on his cheek. ‘I’m here. I’m fine.’ You looked up at the others. ‘I’m grateful you guys came for me,’ you said shyly, unable to find the words to express how you felt.

But they knew that. And you saw it in their eyes and heard it in the way they brushed off your thanks in various ways. And you would be forever thankful for the understanding that had been built between you.

‘I just haven’t eaten properly in a while - Sam, don’t you usually have protein bars or something?’

‘I think this is the first time you’ve ever asked for one.’ Sam smirked and pulled one out from a duffle bag where Bruce had pulled the shock blanket from.

He knelt in front of you, tearing the wrapper, and holding the protein bar out for you. You sat up straight and took it; the dryness of its texture was usually unwelcome, but now it overloaded your tastebuds. Bucky sat against the wall next to you, his hand holding yours securely; Natasha knelt next to Sam, reaching around you to re-adjust the blanket around your shoulders as Steve uncapped a water bottle for you to drink from. Your insides turned fuzzy from the literal bubble they created around you.

On the journey home, you melted into the warmth; the questions about your experience were broached but not pushed; your responses were met with patience, and your questions of where you had been taken were answered but you all quickly melted into the banter and the comfortable silence that followed as you grew tired in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

You leaned back against Bucky, head resting on his shoulder as his arm curled around you. Under the heavy smell of smoke and dust in his tactical gear was the comfort of his chest and the welcome, familiar fit of his hand.

[victoria-daydreams]

Lost in the Stars - Part V

Part IV

AN: With the being election over my anxiety has gone down considerably which means I can write freely without the feeling existential dread hovering over me. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: When Sarela Reyes accepted a bounty to find some  missing child it should have been a simple job. What she got instead was  a chance meeting with a certain Mandalorian, and her world was never  the same.

"I can't believe you extorted the Mayor to find his daughter," the Mandalorian commented.

Sarela looked over to her side, "I didn't extort Vullen," she replied, shaking her head. "I simply renegotiated our terms," she corrected, and the Mandalorian let out a scoff. "Hey! I didn't see you object to my renegotiation back there," she pointed out, and the Mandalorian remained silent. “That’s what I thought,” she retorted smugly.

Sarela looked around her surroundings, the market in this part of the city was filled with a lot more shadier characters than the markets she usually shops at. The farther you traveled from the city center, the deeper you went into the slums of this place. Not to mention the more unlawful things became. Even slave trafficking was starting to boom again. And with a Mandalorian who's covered in shiny beskar armor and armed to the teeth, standing next to her, Sarela realized they were attracting the stares of more than a few locals.

"Maker, you stand out like a sore thumb," Sarela remarked in exasperation. "Keep your coin purse close to you Mando, we're surrounded by scoundrels, thieves, and criminals," she warned, her eyes scanning over the locals.

"You should fit right in then,"

Sarela breathed out a laugh, "You know Mando, I think we're going to get along just fine," she said, bringing her attention back to the Mandalorian.

"Hey, you!" someone shouted from behind them.

Sarela turned around lazily, setting her eyes on a tall man. He looked malnourished due to the fact that his face held no baby fat on it at all, the baggy clothes also added to the theory. He had long black hair that stopped at his shoulders, it was tied back in a low ponytail, but a few pieces still fell out to frame his face. His eyes were narrow, snake-like in appearance, the dark brown of them only added to their sinister look as well. He had a medium-sized nose that was well defined, pale thin lips only set right below them, along with a low-set chin.

"Yes? We don't have all day," she answered impatiently.

It was annoying that she actually had to look up in order to talk to him, what a nuisance.

"You don't remember me? It's me, Tye!" he said with enthusiasm.

Sarela rolled her eyes, "I don't know you," she responded, clearly annoyed.

She knew of no one with that name, not to mention she had never seen the man in front of her before. And the man knew that as well.

"But-"

"Beat it!" Sarela interjected, waving her hand dismissively and turned back around. "Come on Mando," she called, starting to walk away, yawning in the process.

She didn't turn back around even when she heard the man mumble something.

"Like I said before, you gotta watch out for vagrants like him," Sarela stated, digging out her holoprojector and turning it on. "According to Vullen, the kids of interest live in this part of the city," she said, as the projector displayed an image of Jazen.

"Those kids could be anywhere," the Mandalorian remarked.

"Agreed," Sarela said, moving her eyes from the hologram in front of her. "That's why we're going to ask the shopkeepers around here, they see more than they let on," she informed, before making her way over to the closet stall that was selling trinkets.

For the twenty minutes, Sarela and the Mandalorian found themselves going from stall to stall, unsuccessfully uncovering any information on the mysterious street kids that Lora befriended. In fact, Sarela was convinced most of the vendors that they had spoken to probably didn't listen to a word that came from their mouths. She would barely finish her sentence about the children before the vendors instantly tried to convince them to purchase something from their stall.

Sarela sighed heavily, "This is the last stall I'm asking," she stated, running a hand over her hair. "Everyone here has proven to be useless," she commented, as they approached a butcher stall. "Good afternoon-" she began, instantly putting on a pleasant smile.

"Cut the pleasantries Imp," the red skinned Togruta cut in, slamming his cleaver down into the meat he was cutting. "What do you want?" he questioned, looking up from his work.

Sarela laughed lightly, "Straight to the point, I like it," she commented, before turning the projector back on. "Have you seen any of these faces before?" she asked, slowly scrolling the images.

The butcher's eyes flitted from the hologram to Sarela, "I might have," he answered vaguely. "What's it to you?' he questioned, sticking the cleaver into the table.

"We need their help finding someone,"

"Hmmm," the Togruta hummed, scratching his chin. "You know, my memory is suddenly fading about these urchins. If only there was a way to stimulate it," he hinted.

Sarela felt her temple throb in annoyance and impatience.

"What's your price?" the Mandalorian asked, finally speaking up.

"Thirty credits,"

"Twenty!" Sarela shot back. "And don't get greedier because I will make sure that you'll never be able to hold credits in your hands again," she threatened. "Or that cleaver," she added, flicking her chin out to where the blade rested in the table.

"Fine," he grunted, and Sarela threw the credits onto the table.

"Now talk," the Mandalorian demanded.

"Yeah I've seen the little rascals," he admitted, collecting his credits. "They like to hang around in the entrance next to Lev's Cantina," he informed, pointing down the down the street and moving his finger to the left.

"Thank you for not being completely useless," Sarela said, giving him an insincere smile before walking away.

"You sure have a way with people," the Mandalorian commented, not far behind her.

"It's my specialty,"

~~~x~~~

"There they are up ahead," the Mandalorian announced quietly, making their way to the group of huddled children who were playing, what Sarela assumed was a game of some sort.

Sarela arched her brow, "I see Jazen, but not Cassir, Darra, or Tobias," she noted, as they approached him.

"They can't be far," he reasoned, just as they stopped behind the boy.

The shadows of Sarela and the Mandalorian blocked out the sun that beamed down on the kids. A young Nautolan and Rodian slowly lifted their heads from the dice in their hands and to the two mercenaries staring down at them. Immediately, they dropped the cubes and stood up, backing away from them.

"Guys? What's wrong?" Jazen asked in confusion.

"Jazen Sekel," Sarela addressed, and the Nautolan and Rodian turned on their heels and ran away at the sound of her accent, while the human boy's body froze. "My acquaintance and I have some questions for you," she said, and Jazen sprung to his feet and attempted to run away, but Sarela was quicker and grabbed the back of his collar. "Whoa! Where's the fire, Jazen?" Sarela questioned, with a laugh as she tightened her grip on his shirt.

Jazen raised his hands in surrender, "I don't have the credits!" he shouted. "But I swear, I'll have them by tomorrow!" he pleaded, and a frown formed on Sarela's face.

"This isn't about credits," the Mandalorian stated, as Sarela let go of Jazen's collar and he turned around to face them.

"We're here about your friend Lora," Sarela said, and Jazen's eyes darted off to the side. "If you try to make a run for it again, I will shoot you with an electro-dart and I really don't want to do that," she stated, and the boy visibly gulped.

"She's not going to hurt you," the Mandalorian assured, looking over at her and what Sarela could only imagine was a pointed look. "Neither of us are," he reassured, staring back down at the boy.

"You promise?" the boy asked, his eyes bouncing between the two of them.

"Yes, we promise," Sarela promised, now studying the boy's frame, he was thinner than usual for a boy his age. It probably didn't help that he lived on the streets. "Tell you what," she began, squatting down to be at eye level with Jazen. "You tell us everything you know about Lora's whereabouts and the Mandalorian behind me will buy you a meal from the cantina behind you," she proposed, watching the boy's brown orbs light up.

"Okay!" Jazen agreed readily, nodding his head up down before jogging over to the cantina.

"I'm not paying for the kid's food, this was your idea Reyes," he argued quietly.

Sarela pushed herself up and turned around, "I already coughed up credits of my own to that butcher," she countered. "It's your turn now Mando," she said, not waiting for his reply and walked into the cantina, not before hearing the Mandalorian release an annoyed sigh.

The music reverberated in the small cantina, while the lights made it difficult to properly recognize anyone. Sarela maneuvered around the crowded cantina, knowing that the Mandalorian was not that far behind her. As she moved through the crowd she overheard two men arguing politics and brushed past them without a word.

"Why did he have to choose the most inconvenient spot," Sarela grumbled, spotting Jazen sitting in the back of the building.

Finally arriving to the table, she slid in the seat across from Jazen while the Mandalorian occupied next to him. Just as Sarela went to her open her mouth, a waitress came over to the table with a bowl of soup and placed it down in front of Jazen. The waitress stuck her hand out expectantly in the Mandalorian's direction and Sarela let out a snicker.

"Go ahead and pay the hardworking woman Mando," she ushered, her face cracking into a smirk. He huffed before digging his credits and placing them into the waitress' hand and she forced a typical smile on her face before turning away. "Now Jazen, tell us what you know about Lora and her whereabouts," Sarela encouraged, watching the boy shove a spoonful of broth into his mouth.

Her nose turned up slightly, the broth was a grayish color with mystery chunks of meat sprinkled through it.

"You two are working for the Mayor aren't you? Jazen asked back, raising his brow. "We already told him we don't know where she is," he added, scooping out more soup.

"Well aren't you a smart one," Sarela responded sarcastically. "And its clear he doesn't fully believe you," she added, removing her sniper rifle and laying it down on the chair next to her.

"Reyes," the Mandalorian called, and Sarela just raised her hands. "Answer her question," he instructed, staring down at the young boy.

"We met Lora a month ago, she stumbled upon us playing a game and wanted to join. We let her play with us until the city guards found her," Jazen explained, placing his spoon down. "The rest is history," he finished, shrugging his shoulders

"Speaking of 'we', where's the rest of your little friends?" Sarela asked, pointing her finger and rotating it around.

"Why?" Jazen asked, becoming guarded.

"Why are you getting so defensive?" the Mandalorian questioned back.

Jazen picked up his spoon and went to scoop more soup from his bowl, but Sarela was quicker and dragged the dish in her direction, broth spilling over the rim.

"Answer his question," she said, echoing the Mandalorian's words.

Jazen's eyes shifted from Sarela to the warrior next to him, sighing he put his spoon back on the table.

"Darra's sick, Cassir has been caring for her in an abandon apartment where live in," Jazen answered. "As for Tobias, I don't know where he's gone," he continued.

"Now was that so hard to say," Sarela said, pushing the bowl back in front of him. "And now tell us about Lora," she prompted.

"When the guards found her last month and took her back home, we didn't see her for about two weeks. She was grounded," Jazen recalled, swirling his soup around. "But after her punishment was over, she managed to sneak out to play with us from time to time," he went on, grinning slightly. "Lora said she felt freer playing with than being stuck in mansion," he informed, and Sarela had to force herself not to roll her eyes at the statement. "She wanted to explore the galaxy, it’s what she dreamed of," he finished, before lifting the bowl to his lips.

"And did you see her yesterday before she ran away?" the Mandalorian inquired.

"Um...about...that..." Jazen trailed off, now squirming in his seat.

A slight frown lined Sarela's forehead, "Yes?" she asked, leaning forward.

"We...might of...helped her,"

"You what!?" she questioned, anger clear in her voice.

"It wasn't my idea!" Jazen disputed, lifting his arms up again. "Tobias came up with it," he stated, looking between the two bounty hunters. "Tobias said he knew somebody that would be willing to take Lora off this planet and that we would get paid for helping," he explained naively, and Sarela's eyes snapped to the dark visor of the Mandalorian. "He said all we had to do was keep our stories straight and we all come out of this happy," he described, not understanding why Sarela was visibly frustrated.

"Everyone except Lora," the Mandalorian remarked, with a sigh.

"What?"

"You little shit, you didn't help Lora," Sarela stated, slamming her hand down onto the table, startling the boy. "You assisted in trafficking her to slavers," she corrected, running both of her hands over her hair. "We have to tell Vullen," she said, looking at the Mandalorian again. "He may never see his daughter again," she reasoned, and he nodded in agreement.

"No! Don't!" Jazen exclaimed, a fearful look in his eyes. "The Mayor, he'll have me hanged!" he fretted, his brown orbs widening.

"I'll tell him to be lenient on you and your friends, seeing how you were duped," Sarela suggested, digging for her holoprojector. "A full pardon is out of the question, not unless they find Tobias and have you all testify against him," she guessed.

Jazen abruptly stood up, the legs of his chair screeching loudly against the floor. Sarela's hand shot out, catching him by the wrist in a semi-tight grip.

"Listen to me Jazen and listen well," she began, her voice low. "You do not want to take your chances with Mayor Vullen by yourself, he already holds a low opinion of you and your friends," she informed. "You run, and I swear to the Maker I will call the city guards to capture you," she threatened, no sign of her usual playful demeanor.

Jazen's eyes narrowed, "You promised me that you two wouldn't hurt me," he reminded.

"Yes, I did," Sarela agreed, nodding her head. "But what I didn't promise is that the city guards wouldn't," she pointed out, a ghost of a smirk on her face.

"Is there a problem here?" a new, male voice asked.

"None that concerns you," Sarela replied, not bothering to look at the newcomer.

"Ah, so you must be the Imp everyone's been murmuring about," he remarked, appraising her.

Craning her neck slowly, Sarela looked towards the stranger, meeting the eyes of a dark haired man. She noticed he was surrounded by what looked like his crew and that he had a blaster hoisted on his belt.

"Is this woman here harassing you son?" he asked casually, focusing his attention towards Jazen.

Jazen glanced at her, "No," he answered, and Sarela relinquished her grip on his wrist.

"Can I help you?" Sarela inquired, attempting to sound polite, but she could tell by the man's amused reaction, he knew she wasn't interested in speaking with him.

"Perhaps you don't know who I am," he began, chuckling at her.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Mandalorian discreetly lower his hand to his hip where she knew his blaster rested. Sarela lightly kicked his shin under the table as sign to stop. The man hadn't done anything besides interrupt their "conversation".

"Can't say that I do," Sarela replied snidely, crossing her arms

"Then you haven't been on the planet long, have you?" he inquired.

"I've been on this planet long enough to know the people who are worth knowing," Sarela said, titling her head up slightly. "And you weren't one of them," she added.

Sarela watched as his jaw clenched, "Let me introduce myself," he began, keeping his eyes trained on her, and she couldn't tell if he was toying with her in hopes she would flirt back, or if he was sizing her up.

She was still a "wanted woman" after all.

"I'm Crix, the man in charge of Dargus Bain's protection. You do know who Dargus Bain is, don't you?" His condescending tone was beginning to annoy her. She raised her eyebrows at Crix in reply.

"Is there a point to this conversation?" the Mandalorian finally asked, his voice crackling through his vocoder. He was clearly irked by this man as well. Crix finally looked at him, as if noticing his presence for the first time.

"What are you, her lap dog?" he asked, and the two aliens next to him laughed. "You two are quite the pair aren't ya? An Imp and a Mando," he commented. "Aren't you two supposed to hate each other?" he questioned, motioning his finger between the two of them.

"You know what," Sarela began, rubbing her chin. "Your name does ring a bell after all," she said, pointing at him. "If you hadn't mentioned lapdog, I almost wouldn't have recognized you," she explained, and the smug expression on Crix's face vanished. "That's what you're known for right? Dargus says 'jump' and you'll say, 'how high'," Sarela remarked, her lips slightly curving into a grin.

"I don't like your attitude, girl," Crix spat.

"And I don't like the way you smell," Sarela retorted, rising from her seat, Crix towered over her but she wasn't the least bit intimidated. "Scum," she added, causing Crix to growl. "So it looks like we're at an impasse," she continued, tilting her head. "Now, I don't want to fight you, so why don't you be a good boy and scurry back to your master. While we carry on with the conversation we were having," she suggested, managing to to get in the last verbal punch.

Crix let out a snarl, barring his yellow teeth and his lackeys flanked him. By now, the entire cantina was watching the confrontation

Sarela noticed that Crix's fist near his side had slowly balled itself into a fist and was winding up for a punch. But before he could connect, Sarela jabbed her fist out into his throat.

And all hell broke loose.

"Jazen run!"

Crix was temporarily stunned, placing his had his hand to his throat, coughing hard and rubbing it at the same time. While his henchmen sprung into action, Sarela ducked under a punch that was flying towards her by one of Crix's men. She grinned as she reached behind her and grabbed the bowl of soup behind her and tossed the hot broth onto the man's face. Screams of agony escaped the man's mouth as he lifted his hands up to his face, taking advantage of his blindness, Sarela gave the henchmen a hard kick to the gut before slamming the bowl down onto his skull and he crumpled to the ground.

Two arms suddenly wrapped around Sarela's arms, trapping her against her attacker chest while Crix approached her with a vibroblade out. She writhed around in the man's grip trying to escape and just as Crix got close enough her, she shot her legs out and connected with Crix's chest, sending him stumbling back and onto the ground. Instantly, Sarela threw her head back, hearing a cracking sound in her ears before landing back on her feet. She picked up a glass bottle from a nearby table and smashed it across the man's face, knocking him out cold.

A loud yelp of pain came from Sarela as she felt a sharp, stinging pain on her bicep before feeling a warm liquid trickle down her arm. A whizzing sound passed her ear and she spun around to see a throwing knife traveling back into Crix's hand. He angled his knife again to launch it at her again, but never got the chance as a blue glowing arc struck his body and sent him to the floor in a heap.

Sarela's head snapped in the direction of where the stun bolt was fired from.

Lo and behold, it was from the one and only Mandalorian with his blaster aimed at the unconscious form of Crix.

He turned and looked in her direction, "Are you going to attract this much attention where ever we go?" he asked.

Breathing heavily, Sarela let a smirk grow on her face.

“The day is still young Mando,” she panted, grasping her arm. “Anything’s possible,”

Part VI

[mypersonalrambling]

Soothing

Warnings: Describes a panic attack, mentions of anxiety

Pairings: Valter x Reader 

Word Count: 2208

Author’s note: I wrote what is probably considered a less traditional panic attack. However, I think it’s important to show not everyone experiences things the same way. 

Requested: Yes. Sorry for taking so long. I hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: Valter does his best to help calm your anxiety during a panic attack. 

You awaken this morning in a slight panic. Valter’s movie premiere is this evening. He’s used to them, having grown up around the spotlight. You take a few moments to mentally prepare yourself for the day. You get up, needing to run a few errands before this evening. Taking a quick shower then grabbing some candy to eat on your way. When you’re anxious it’s difficult for you to eat anything with real nutritious value. The more anxious you are, the more junk food you want to shovel down your throat. 

Popping by the alterations shop hoping the dress fits correctly, otherwise, you didn’t know what to do. The elderly woman, Opal, who owns the shop is a sweetheart. She always has snacks, tea, and makes everyone feel like family. 

“Hello Dear, excited about tonight?”

“Kinda. I’m more nervous than anything. I’m not used to being in front of so many people.”

“Dear, you’ll be fine. Stick close to Valter, he can be your guide.” Sometimes you forget how much she knows about everyone in town. She takes a few minutes to return. The dress is stunning, it’s floor-length, black, quarter length sleeve with a v neckline. It was two layers, a solid black layer covered by a subtle lace overlay. “Are you coming, Dear?” Opal repeats, waving you back to the fitting room.

It takes several minutes for you to get the dress exactly how you wanted it. The underlay is the type of silky material that takes maneuvering to make it lay how you want it. Opal helps you zip it up, allowing you to see the full effect of the glamorous gown. “It’s perfect, Opal. It fits impeccably, thank you.”

“Of course, now take it off and we’ll have some tea.” There is no use arguing with her, as she never takes no for an answer. Opal seems to always have wisdom to bestow upon you, even if you didn’t ask for it. She likes to laugh at her younger self about not listening to her elders, so she is going to do her damndest to get the next generation to listen so the same mistakes aren’t made. You take as much advice as she’s willing to say. 

Your next stop is to have your hair and makeup done. It isn’t a necessity but you feel better about having someone else do it to take a little stress off yourself. Valter told you he’d come with you but you didn’t want to seem like a bother. The woman did your hair in a simple, elegant style. The style accenting your face, makeup, and dress. You decided to go with a glam look; smoky eye, eyebrows filled in nicely, plenty of blush and contouring, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, you let choose a bright purple lipstick to add a pop of color to your otherwise colorless outfit.  

Before leaving, you buy a tube of it so you can do touch-ups. Hurrying home, you change as quickly as possible. Looking in the mirror, you were astonished about how stunning you look. It’s rare you are able to dress up and you love it. Although you figure dating Valter there will be plenty of opportunities.

The closer the time comes to leave, the more anxious you became. You attempt to stop your mind from obsessing over the thousands of things that could go wrong. What if you fell or made a stupid face? It would be on the internet forever and would surely be attacked online. Even though you aren’t in the industry, dating Valter gave you just a sliver of what it’s  like.

The thoughts soon became endless, your mind not able to control all the racing thoughts. Sliding down to the floor of your bedroom, you can do nothing but simply stare at the wall. It isn’t until you heard Valter calling for you that you realized you aren’t even close to being ready. You will your body to move, to stand and get dressed. However, it can’t, the only thing able to move is your mind.

“Baby? Baby? There you are. Why are you sitting on the floor? And why aren’t you dressed?” You turn to look at him, but no words come out. You’re afraid if you begin talking the words won’t stop. “Baby, are you alright?” He slides down next to you, suit and all, not caring if it becomes messed up. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but are you having a panic attack? I know you become quiet when you’re anxious?” His concern seeping through his voice. Valter is doing his best to remain calm during this situation.

A few minutes later you’re able to conjure some words. “Please...hold me tighter.” He does as he’s told with no questions. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you as close as possible, shifting carefully until he’s lying on his side with you next to him. He doing his best to ensure there is barely any part of your body he isn’t pressing into his. “Thank you.”

What seems like an eternity later you can feel your body begins to calm slightly. “You can...you can let go now.” Valter appears hesitant but still complies with your command. Valter helps you sit up letting you use him as a support. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Baby, it’s alright. Are you okay? That’s all I’m worried about,” his voice is sweet.

“I, um...I’m not okay, but I will be. I was just so worried that I'd embarrass you or myself at the event tonight.” You play with the hem of your shirt, feeling embarrassment course through your body.  

“You could never embarrass me. Have you been feeling this way for long?”

“Probably for last week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have talked about it. It wouldn’t have upset me and maybe I could have helped you work through your emotions.”

“You have so much going on, I didn’t want to bother you with my annoying thoughts. I’m always anxious and self-conscious. I don’t know how you put up with me.” Tears start to well in your eyes, however, your will power isn’t strong enough to keep them from flowing. When you can’t hold it in any longer, you turn away so he won’t see you crying.

Valter almost always knows what you don’t tell him or show him. “Hey, look at me,” he pulls your face towards him. When you don’t look at him right away, he pulls your face up so you have to look at him. “You will never upset me by telling me how you’re feeling. We work things out together, no matter how hard it is. I want you to know that I’m here no matter what. Please don’t forget that. I love you, Baby.” He wipes the tears streaming down your face while placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Thank you. I just overthink everything. It’s hard to explain to someone that doesn’t experience it or maybe as much of it as I do. I love you too Valter. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Oh no, don’t get this twisted. I’m the one who wonders what I did to deserve you.” You can’t help but crack a smile. “Not to sound insensitive, but do you want to go tonight? If not I can cancel.”

“No, no you can’t cancel. But honestly, I don’t want to go. I’m still trying to calm down.”

“Are you okay with me going? I’m not going to leave if you’re not feeling well.”

“Valter, you need to go to your own movie premiere. You’re one of the main characters. I’ll be fine. Probably just watch trashy TV and eat junk food.” 

“Why don’t I see if Eija can come to keep you company? You know she’s been dying to see you.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Not a nuisance, she’ll be ecstatic. She’s been bugging me about seeing you. She says I’m hogging you. I have to remind her that you're my girlfriend and not hers,” he teases.

“This may not be the right time to tell you, but I’ve been secretly dating Eija. You’re just a cover. Don’t take it harshly, we were just waiting for the right time to tell you.”  A smile pulls at the edge of your lips. He pushes you aside, a wide smile spread across his face.

Valter doesn’t leave until Eija appears at the door. The two of you spend the next few hours watching reality TV, eating junk food, and catching up. Eija gives you advice on how to be less nervous when it comes to dealing with premieres. She even shows you how to pose correctly to get the most flattering picture.

The later it became, the more tired you feel. The worst part of panic attacks could be how draining it is. Around midnight Eija begins to pack up her things to go. “I’m sorry, Love, but I’m gonna have to get going. Unfortunately, I have to get up early tomorrow. Zeke will never let me hear the end of it if I stay out too late.”

She makes the awkward shuffle of not wanting to leave, but knowing she needs to. You shuffle from the living room to the hallway. As the two of you stand to talk, Valter walks in startling you both. “What are you doing here? The after-party can’t possibly be over,” you question.

“It’s not, I only stayed for an hour. I couldn’t get you off my mind. I know you said you were fine, but I know you. You don’t always tell the full truth if it’s going to inconvenience someone. So, I thought this was the best compromise. I went for a little bit but came home to you. Also, I brought you this.” He makes a show of pulling out a small thing of your favorite food and one of your favorite drinks.

“Who knew you were so mushy?” You taunt, taking the gifts, setting them on the small table next to you. You pull him by his suit jacket until his face is barely centimeters from yours. Valter closes the rest of the distance, pressing his lips onto yours. When you're kissing him, nothing else matters, everything melts away. You’ve never been with someone who’s simple touch can have an overwhelmingly joyous feeling curse throughout your entire body, until Valter.

A subtle cough pulls your thoughts back into the moment. “As much as I would love to stand here and see my little brother suck face. I should be getting home.” You never knew sarcasm could run so strong in a family. There isn’t one Skarsgard that didn’t use sarcasm eighty percent of the time. Eija gives you both a hug before leaving.

You follow Valter to the bedroom so he can undress, knowing how much he dislikes dressing up. He is someone much more comfortable in casual attire. He looks good in anything, but there was just something about him in a suit that did things to you. “It’s not polite to stare, you know?” He jokes, knowing exactly what seeing him dressed up did to you.

Patting the bed next to you, he sits and begins to tell everything that happened at the premiere. He makes it sound effortless as if being in front of so many people and cameras are natural. It’s easy to tell this has been one of his favorite works so far as he reminisces about days on set and how happy he was to see his co-stars again tonight. You could listen to him talk about his passions for hours. Disappointment runs throughout your veins. If only you could have overcome your anxiety, then you could have experienced the night with him. You know there would be many more chances, however, who knows if you would be able to gain control over your anxiety then. “Hey, you okay?” Valter asks, clearly able to see you are overthinking.

“Just hearing you talk about tonight makes me sad I missed it. You were so gracious and let me stay home, which I appreciate. I still feel terrible.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest, just like earlier that day. The calming effect is almost immediate.

“I know nothing I can say will ease your mind. You already know all I care about is making sure you’re alright. And there will be plenty of chances for you to come to premieres with me. That is if you want to, I would never force you to go. They can be fun, but the after parties are much better. Which you can always go to even if you don’t like the first part.” Valter runs a hand along your back, “Why don’t we go to sleep? You need to give this brain a rest.” He says poking your forehead after every word.

“Heyyy, stop that,” you pout. “But yes let’s go to sleep. I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too.” The two of you drift off, with you still wrapped in his arms.

[bygosscarmine]

W: Worlds Apart - Volume 4: Worlds Estranged

Kang Chul X Oh Yeon Joo - Fix-It Fic (T)

Read from beginning or find previous chapters here: Stories

All that’s left to write together is an epilogue.

Chapter 131 - Oh Yeon Joo and Kang Chul Have A Future (1560 words)

On Monday morning, Seok Bum stuck his head into the office and said, "Oh, hey Yeon Joo. Been a bit since I saw you here."

He sat at his desk, and started to write an e-mail, then stopped and peered at her.

"Are you...humming? Did something good happen?"

And Yeon Joo knew she was blushing, but she wasn't ashamed to say, "Yes. My beautiful friend from out of town that you didn't like hanging around Soo Bong is here now.

"Oh, congratulations!" He went back to typing for a minute.

After sending his e-mail though, he rolled his chair over to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Really, I'm so relieved to see you happy. We should all go get dinner sometime. I don't resent him anymore, I promise." After a pause he said, "Wait, how did you know I disliked him hanging around Soo Bong?"

"Soo Bong thought it was really funny, at the time."

Seok Bum made a disgusted noise, and wheeled himself back to his own computer. Soon after this, their productivity was again cut short by the appearance of Mad Park.

"Oh Yeon Joo, I saw a file today that made me think of your father. It's another six months before he comes in for his check-in, so I thought I'd see if you were here. How's he doing?"

"He's doing well. Did you see the release about the animated adaptation?" she added with a false air of innocence.

"That studio has produced nothing but saccharine love story comics! Absolutely not!"

"You know the rights have been picked up before, you only have to worry if it goes into production."

"No, no, no. What we need is a gritty drama, a procedural, and scrap the last volume or two. Maybe starring Won Bin!"

"Speaking of the last volume or two, Oh Yeon Joo's boyfriend who looks like Kang Chul is back," said Seok Bum, forever sowing the seeds of chaos. "That's why she's looking so well today."

Unexpectedly, Supervisor Park gave her a close look, and said, "Well, I'm glad to hear that. You've had a tough time. What's his name?"

"Kang Chul."

"Funny," said Mad Park. "Just as well."

"Why is it just as well?" Seok Bum asked. "Was there someone else you had in mind? That guy I saw MK yelling at the other day?"

"I don't want to talk about that," said Mad Park. "My spirit is broken. And I blame you as much as your father, Oh Yeon Joo!"

He walked away.

"What were you saying about MK?"

"Oh, one of Barking Mad's friends was here, but he was having an argument with MK. I think you got set up with him once. Tall guy, handsome-ish. Apparently up to MK's weight in a fight, which is really something."

Yeon Joo wasn't sure how to think about that. Clearly she needed to catch up with MK soon. She made a mental note to text her--later.

Mad Park stuck his head back in to say, "And that epilogue did not cut it by half! The script has to be by someone who will get it on track. I did like the twist with So Hee, but I hope your father read my comments about the final love-line."

"I assure you he did not," said Yeon Joo waving him away.

-

They were laying skin-to-skin, not ready to fall asleep when Chul summoned the courage to ask, "When did you first think that this might really work? Not closing W's narrative--us together."

He felt her take a breath to speak, ribs pressing a little deeper against his.

"That's a kind of complicated answer. But when you came here and were so appreciative of Soo Bong letting you stay with him, though it was not a great apartment or situation? I was relieved, because you seemed to be able to deal with real world inconveniences with grace."

"But that was nothing," he protested.

"The fact that you thought so meant a lot to me," she said, fingers gently brushing his collarbone. "I didn't know how much your privilege in W would form you."

"Ah, I see. My memories of my childhood are of a very normal home, though."

"What about you? You must be asking because you've been considering it."

"It was a process for me, too. But I have to say when you asked me firmly to let you finish eating, after sneaking into So Hee's apartment, I had this sense that I was experiencing something new and important."

She chuckled. "Yes, someone who wasn't an actual side character."

"Not just that. Even here, people look at me a certain way because of how I look. Or the expertise I have, or whatever. But you looked past that. You can see me, under the all-caps KANG CHUL of my origin."

"I'd already had a chance to become a little resistant to your face," she said, still amused.

"When we met again, after I'd gone into hiding, I understood why you were so devastated every time you met me. But you had still risked your life to help me, and you continued to do your best for me. Even being gentle when I fell in love with you, though it was such a hard thing for you to deal with."

"Was I kind?" she mused.

"Yes," he said firmly. "Because you didn't run away. You were honest with me."

"Looks like it all paid off on my end."

He accepted that she was not going to see herself as a hero in any way, and didn't protest again. It was enough that he'd let her know.

"In case you're tempted to cast yourself in the light of the sole beneficiary," she said after a moment, "what we went through together, all this time, gave me a fresh start. When I saved your life I was on hiatus from medicine and not sure I'd ever go back to it. I didn't remember creating a character that then became so popular, and I didn't know what I was capable of in hard circumstances. This story saved me, too."

"Then it's worth it, and I'm glad," Chul said.

His love in his arms, he listened to the erratic pulse of cars and city life, real and alive.

End Notes, from Park Soo Bong:

When I first set out to write the story of Kang Chul and Oh Yeon Joo, I planned to set the record straight. I realized eventually that even with first-hand accounts and raw material to draw from, I was creating yet another version of the truth. It was a little bit more story than real in some parts, because it made a great narrative. I hope you enjoyed the story you read, and it answers a few questions you might have had.

And now, since it is a story, just like W the comic I'll leave you with the fitting conclusion:

EPILOGUE

Understandably, all those involved in creating W felt wary of continuing work in manhwa after this and moved into different fields.

Park Soo Bong worked as a consultant on new comics under Editor Kim until he sold his first novel. Acclaimed as psychological horror with vivid settings and relatable characters, it sold well, and he is known a prolific writer with a knack for subverting expectations, sometimes with surrealist twists.

Oh Seung Moo's retirement from comics was considered dubious by the general public after the several false ends of his webtoon, but he never released any more material. He created a blog where he reviewed comics which enjoys a modest readership. His die-hard fans loved it while his detractors noted he seemed more focused on aesthetics than substantive writing. Nevertheless, his words of appreciation have encouraged many a new creator in a tough business.

Kang Chul got the job at the publishing house that sold his manhwa using an assumed name. He did well in management and eventually started his own division specializing in true crime and cold case books. He did particularly well interfacing with television companies, and a contract with his imprint was considered a foot in the door for adaptation. After getting more established, he also founded a prize in literature for investigative writing, with a clear mission to vindicate the falsely accused or expose those who escaped justice.

Oh Yeon Joo continued to work in diagnostics and post-surgery support rather than operations at Myung Se until Barking Mad Park recommended her to a colleague at the university who was doing a paper on traumatic impact of emergency surgery on hospital workers. Discovering this field of inquiry was a light-bulb moment. She studied counseling, became licensed, and specializes in medical trauma for both patients and medical personnel.

A year after registering their marriage, Oh Yeon Joo and Kang Chul had a small wedding at which both her parents, Mad Park, MK, Park Soo Bong and Kang Seok Bum were present. There were no arguments or gunshots or even tears, barring Yeon Joo's mother's slight emotional moment saying goodbye to the couple on their way back home. (She tentatively likes Kang Chul, mainly because Yeon Joo is happier now, and partly because her daughter isn't getting any younger.)

And while they still live today, in our world, they are all very happy to have made it to The End.

[fericita-s]

A Mansion House Murder - Chapter 15

A Mansion House Murder previous chapters - a round-robin Mercy Street story by @mercurygray @jomiddlemarch @broadwaybaggins @sagiow @tortoisesshells

Thanks @the-spastic-fantastic for beta-ing my chapter!

***

Emma laughed.  

She could tell that she was being hysterical.  She could still think like a nurse enough to recognize it.  But instead of administering to herself in the needed ways - a glass of water, fresh air, some distance from the dead body of her husband and the horrified gasps of the fleeing guests - her laughter became louder and more frenzied as tears fell from her eyes.  Some might have mistaken her tears for weeping, for grief, but Frank would have known them for what they were.  

Relief.  

She could appreciate the irony that after a decade of Frank accusing her of stabbing him in the back by not supporting his renewed allegiance to the Confederacy or the vile sermons he taught on the supremacy of their race or joyfully embracing poverty instead of stoically enduring it, someone had literally stabbed him in the back. 

She reached toward him and patted at his back, feeling for the depth and width of the wound even though it was obvious from his profound stillness that he was dead.  There was no rise and fall of his back or the knife lodged in it to show breath, no twitches or spasms, no pleading words or grasping hands. 

Mary's hands covered her own and she saw the blood, thick and red transfer from her hands to Mary's and thought I was right not to wear that new dress.  It would be ruined. Though perhaps it would have been hidden better, red on red silk, not the streaks of red against her faded white dress as she pulled away from Mary to wipe and wipe her hands, aware that Mary was speaking to her and that there was great flurry of movement as Dr. Foster and Dr. Diggs descended on Mary and Frank’s body sprawled across it.  But she was not able to discern any of the words or the actions happening just a foot away. She was laughing, thinking of how many men she had nursed back to health or comforted as they died in this very ballroom, and how none cursed at her the way Frank had with his dying breaths.

She stood, meaning to look for the lye or some cloths or perhaps a glass of water, but froze when she saw Matron Brannon in the corner of the room and, even with Anne’s firm grip on her elbow, Emma stumbled at her lurching motion. 

Am I back in the war? 

And then everything went black.

***

Alice moved away from Frank’s body immediately and was trailed by her husband who was calling her name. She planted herself in the lobby, giving desperate entreaties for the guests to stay.

“Alice, let them go.  Alice, your sister needs you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, this pair not as well fitting as the ones he had lost during his surprise discovery of a different dead body in the hotel kitchens.

“But Percival! They’ll go and fetch the police or the Pinkertons!”

He caught her hand that had been clutched tightly around the fan and opened it so that the fan fell out and the red marks from where she had clutched it were bright against her pale skin. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm and she startled at the touch.  It was enough to bring her eyes to his so that she was looking at him when he said, “It’s time for help, even if the cost is great.”

“But the ball! The sale!” Her protestations were whispered and her eyes were bright with tears that she was angry she even had.  What had Frank been to her since the war besides a bothersome brother-in-law? Or Emma either?

Percival shook his head and frowned at her. “This is more than an inconvenience to your plans!”

Alice took a sharp breath and felt her anger slip like the fan from her hand. “There’s no hope of dealing with this ourselves, is there? There must be dozens of witnesses.”

He pulled her close to his side as Dr. Diggs walked out of the ballroom carrying Emma, her neck stretched gracefully over the crook of his elbow. Alice didn’t know if he was speaking to her or to the room at large as he said, “She’s fine.  Mrs. Morris here will see to her upstairs.”

Alice turned to watch them walk up the stairs and then turned back to look into the ballroom where Dr. Foster was removing Frank from his wife’s lap.  She turned once more to Percival, a complete circle and shook her head.  “I don’t know what to do, Percy.  I don’t know what to do.”

He took both of her hands and squeezed them and she squeezed back. “It’s alright, Alice. I do.”  

***

Dr. Diggs closed the door firmly behind him, knowing Mrs. Morris was capable of tending to Mrs. Stringfellow and eager to get back to his wife before a new guest of the hotel turned up murdered. So far the victims had been more adversaries than allies, but he knew more than most how quickly a mob of people could turn violent and how little reason or logic had anything to do with it.

At the top of the stairs, he saw the Chaplain and Jimmy Green, Henry with his hands outstretched like he was giving a benediction and Jimmy, eyes wide with terror.

“I didn’t plan it,” Jimmy said.  His cane was gone and he clutched at the bannister, unsteady on his feet.

Henry took a step closer to him, hands still raised. “I know. I heard what he said too. It would make anyone mad.”

Among the guests still exiting the hotel, whispering and shouting as they moved in a steady flow out the front door, Dr. Diggs noticed one man walking into the hotel.  He had a black silk bow tie and a black short bowler hat, his wool vest and gingham cotton shirt out of place in the sea of formal attire that was parting around him as he headed for the stairs. 

“Did you hear it all? He said he’d hurt her. He’d turn her out.  If the sale didn’t go through, if we didn’t give him enough money,” Jimmy looked to Henry, to Dr. Diggs, to the stranger who was now with them at the top of the stairs. He was pleading, whining as he spoke. “He said he knew I killed Bullen to frame him and that I’d never be smart enough to cut him out of a scheme.”

Henry nodded, lowering his hands and reaching for Jimmy who was leaning precariously near the top step, his grip on the bannister abandoned as he swayed near the top of the steps. “You were trying to keep her safe.  I know that.”

“I killed him,” Jimmy looked again at the man at the top of the stairs with him, seeming surprised at the words he was saying. “But I knew nothing about Bullen! Bullen wasn’t me! It wasn't me!”

Jimmy made a move as if to go down the steps, but stumbled and was caught by the man in the bowler hat who grabbed him by the elbow and then brought Jimmy’s arm behind his back, snapping the ring of a tower handcuff over his wrist and then bringing his other hand behind the back to do the same.

“What are you doing? No! I just explained – “

“You just confessed to a murder,” said the man.

Dr. Diggs saw the solid silver badge on the lapel of the man’s coat, the engraved letters proclaiming “Pinkerton National Detective Agency” before the man turned and guided Jimmy down the stairs.

***

Anne had undressed her and then prepared the bath, leaving Emma in it alone as she went to find suitable clothes. Finding the silence unbearable, Emma began to whisper-sing under her breath the words of a familiar hymn.

There is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;

And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains

Frank hated it, had never liked it when she sang it as she tried to tidy their cold and sparse house or mend their fraying clothes.  William Cowper was an abolitionist and a Methodist besides and it was one more way Frank had let her know she failed him.  Even her choice of hymn was disappointing.

She sank below the waters and willed the blood and grime of the last few hours to be washed away as well. She surfaced and the flowers that had been in her hair were now floating in the soapy water, wilting and breaking apart like flowers on a grave. But Emma knew she wouldn’t drown in these waters or those of grief like Ophelia.  She would rise, newer and freer, even if Ophelia’s insanity might never wash off. 

 Redeeming love has been my theme,

 And shall be till I die.

Emma stopped singing when she heard a new sound through the walls.  A child's moan and then cry, a woman's voice soothing and then singing a nursery rhyme, the click of a rocking chair back and forth across a wood floor.  Emma heard ghosts every time she was in Mansion House - remembered echoes of Tom's pleas to keep his presence from Alice and dying boys asking her to write to their mothers.  But this was new. More real. A child? Who could she be?

Would she hear Frank’s ghost now too?

She thought of Eliza asking her about children and of Eliza's explanation of starting out anew, leaving a husband in Alexandria.  To go west.  Well, Emma was leaving behind a husband now too.  But where would she go?

Too many questions.  She had no answers for herself this evening and shivered, hoping Anne would be back soon with some clothes. There was a rap on the door and then Henry’s voice through it.  “Emma? Are you alright? Anne sent me to check.”

tag @broadwaybaggins, you’re up next! And only three more chapters to go before we end it all!