#while magda only cares about coffee

[woso-dreamzzz]

Siblings

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: There's a baby at your house

You're all waiting around for Pernille's friend when you ask.

He's meant to be dropping off his baby because of some emergency with his wife's mum. It had all been so unexpected but as the only one in the friend group who had hands-on experience with a baby before, Pernille was happy to volunteer.

He's assured her that it would only be for a few hours anyway while they sorted things out so she didn't worry much.

You're sitting at the coffee table with a sandwich for lunch as a show Magda's watching plays aimlessly in the background.

"Momma," You say suddenly," Why have you got a sister?"

The question is completely out of nowhere and a little amusing at how bluntly you say it.

Pernille laughs. "Well, your grandparents wanted more than just one child so they had me and Louise."

You think for a moment. "And that's why Morsa has a sister too?"

"Yes, princesse, that's why Morsa has a sister too."

That stumps you a little bit and the doorbell rings before you can ask any more questions.

Momma's friend comes running in, thanking her profusely before handing her the baby boy in a carrier. He leaves out the door as quickly as he came.

Momma coos over the baby and you come over to investigate.

He's kind of ugly, with wispy blonde hair on top of his head. His face is all wrinkly and strange. His expression scrunches up when he sees you and you decide that you don't like him.

Momma and Morsa seem to though and you don't like that much either.

This baby takes up a lot of their time.

You don't fully understand what's so interesting about him as you sit at the table and colour. You wonder, briefly, if this is Momma and Morsa practising.

They both have siblings. You wonder if they need to practice with this new baby because they forgot how to look after one now that you've a big girl.

The thought of another little girl (or boy) in the house makes your stomach feel all knotty and you can't quite work out why.

"Momma," You say, tugging on her shirt," Up!"

Pernille picks you up instantly but frowns. You haven't asked to be picked up like that for a while now. You hadn't done that in months and the last time was only because you had a little cough and wanted a cuddle at training.

You bump your head against her shoulder and wrap your arms around her next, squeezing as tightly as you can.

Pernille's frown deepens and she tests your temperature with the back of her hand.

There's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you feeling alright, princesse?"

You don't answer, just rest your head back on her shoulder. It's a little difficult to help Magda take care of the baby with you surgically attached. You refuse to be put down.

If Pernille even gives a second of attention to her friend's child, you whine and tug at her, wanting all of her attention on you all the time.

You ignore the baby completely even as Magda tries to introduce you. You don't want to look at his stupid wrinkly face nor let him play with your toys.

You don't want him being held by your Morsa either but you can't be in two places at once and being held by Morsa means that Momma's arms are open for the boy to sit in and you don't want that either.

"No, Momma," You say when she tries to put you down.

"I have to go to the toilet, princesse," Momma says," I can't hold you while I do that."

You accept that as true but you trail her to the toilet and get her to pick you up immediately after she's done so she can't pick up the baby.

It's a long day for you, constantly making sure that your mothers remember that they still have you and should pay you some attention. You get given a brief respite when the baby goes to sleep and wedge yourself firmly between Momma and Morsa on the sofa.

You kind of want a nap too but you don't want to waste this time when their attentions are on you so you just sit, holding their hands in silence.

You've never been more happy in your life to see that baby go home with Momma's friend from earlier.

"What was up with you today, huh?" Morsa asks as she and Momma tuck you into bed that night.

You pull a face. "There was a baby."

"There was. Did that upset you?"

You shake your head. "I'm a big girl. I don't get upset."

Momma laughs as she perches on the other side of your bed. "Big girls can get upset too. Big girl just explain why they're feeling upset."

You're a big girl so you're going to do that. "Were you practicing with Momma's friend's baby?"

"Practicing for what?"

"For when I get a sibling like your two have," You say," Do I have to have a sibling?"

Morsa's brows draw together. "Do you want one? A sibling?"

You shake your head and pout. "Just want you and Momma."

"Are you sure?" Morsa prods," A sibling can be fun to grow up with. You get to have someone to play with all the time."

"I play with Jessie and Niamh all the time," You reply," Don't need a little brother or sister."

Momma laughs as she gives you a goodnight kiss. "I think," She says," That our family is already the perfect size."

[solsticetm]

━━ ◤ ( LEARNING TO BE MORE IN TOUCH WITH YOUR EMOTIONS AND ACHING TO BE LOVED, BORN WITH WHITE HAIR THAT’S GROWN OUT TO YOUR SHOULDERS, RUNNING FASTER THAN THE HUMAN EYE CAN SEE, AND FOREST GREEN ) welcome, THOMAS SHEPHERD, HE/HIM. before you move in, tell us what you remember: BEING THE ONE TO DISCOVER YOUR MOTHER’S DEAD BODY. excellent, now we are pleased to accept your offer to live GOLDEN FIELDS APARTMENT COMPLEX, and your new job as OWNER at DECIMATION COFFEE AND TEA HOUSE is waiting for you to begin. 

THE BASICS

NAME: Thomas Jakob Shepherd / Maximoff

NICKNAMES: Tommy, Speed, Minimoff

BIRTHDAY: December 20th

AGE: 25

PRONOUNS: He/Him/His

LAST KNOWN MEMORY: Attending the Hellfire Gala and being the one to discover your mother’s dead body.

ORIGINATION: Marvel Comics, Earth-616 to be specific.

FACECLAIM: Drew Ray Tanner

THE DETAILS

FAMILY: Frank Shepherd (biological father), Mary Shepherd (biological mother), William Kaplan (twin brother), Wanda Maximoff (mother), Vision (father), Erik Lehnsherr (grandfather), Ultron (grandfather), Vivian (half-sister), Vin (half-brother, deceased), Luna Maximoff (cousin), Lorna Dane (aunt), Pietro Maximoff (uncle), Simon Williams (uncle), Victor Mancha (uncle), Alkhema (aunt), Henry Pym (great-grandfather), Django Maximoff (grandfather, deceased), Marya Maximoff (grandmother, deceased), Magda Eisenhardt (grandmother, deceased), Ana Maximoff (aunt, deceased), Mateo Maximoff (uncle, deceased), Nadia Pym (great aunt), Janet Van-Dyne (great-grandmother) — Everyone except for Frank and Mary Shepherd are relatives from his previous incarnation. However, he views them as his real family.

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: Potato wedges and pizza, painting his nails black or dark shades of green, being Northstar’s biggest fan

EDUCATION: High School Diploma, BS in Business

SKILLS: Superhuman Speed, Molecular Acceleration, Intangibility, Superhuman Stamina,  Superhuman Agility, Superhuman Reflexes, Superhuman Durability, Superhuman Strength, Accelerated Perception, Expert Thief, and Master of Stealth.

HEADCANONS: 𝐈. Tommy doesn’t have a middle name in canon but I decided to give him one! I was inspired after reading through some old comics about the twins when they were born, and Erik was upset that both children were named after Vision’s family. I’m fixing that so Tommy was given the middle name Jakob in both lifetimes. He’s named after Jakob Eisenhardt … his grandfather’s father. 𝐈𝐈. He has a strong fear of doctors, scientist, hospital rooms, and needles. Which is a result of the experimentation that occurred to him while he was an inmate back in his own universe. He also suffers from PTSD. 𝐈𝐈𝐈. There isn’t much known about the Shepherds except that they were awful and neglectful. I tend to make up my own backstory for them to expand upon what little we do know in canon. They got divorced when Tommy was very young. They loved each other once but after a few years everything changed. The boy is bounced between their two homes growing up. His father living in a mobile home big enough for the two of them, but developed an alcohol problem after the divorce and doesn’t notice when Tommy comes or goes most days. His mother gets an apartment but there’s only one bedroom. He’s never there long enough to complain, taking the couch since he’s usually with his father anyway. His teenage years? Tommy started acting out to try getting their attention but it never worked. They were happy to be relived from their burden of taking care of him after his imprisonment. He got used to taking care of himself, maturing faster than a kid should have. It was a broken home and his upbringing with the Shepherds was similar in Decimation. The only difference is that he never went to juvie or prison in his fake life in Kansas.

WHAT THEY’RE PLANNING TO DO IN DECIMATION: His entire life has been in Decimation, or so Tommy thinks. He’s completely unaware of the truth but these ‘waking dreams’ have begun to confuse him. It feels too real but how is that possible? They have to just be dreams. He receives these visions of another life, much more torturous than this one and how cruel to discover someone you love in such a lifeless state. Why would his brain make him relive this each night? Tommy wonders if he should see a therapist because reoccurring dreams about the dead aren’t healthy. He hopes it’ll pass in the meantime, trying to focus on his life. He owns a coffee shop in town and that brings him joy. He likes living a fast-moving life, never the type to sit around doing nothing. You’ll always be able to catch him at work doing something. Tommy was a prankster growing up but mellowed out only a little in adulthood. He knows when and where that behavior would be appropriate. Maybe there’s one good thing about getting older. He doesn’t like getting in trouble, the ‘waking dreams’ of his showing him what punishment looks like. It scares him and glimpses of a collar wake him up instantly. He doesn’t know which vision is worse. Which is why Tommy is more than happy to focus on his friends and business. He never left Decimation before but wonders what else is out there in the world. He knows most of the locals except for the newcomers, of course. He has an outgoing personality and is always approachable.

[one-shot-plus-size]

True Love - Chapter 3

Something I published on my Wattpad account a few years ago, and now I've reworked and am publishing here.

Imagine :

She - a 23 year old girl who loves freedom and a man who will never be hers.

He - a 47 year old actor with a life that is not quite in order.

What happens when he realizes he has the diamond under his nose that he's been looking for all his life.

Pov Olivia

- Why did you take such a strange leave of absence? - Magda leaned out from behind the monitor.

- What do you mean? - I furrowed my eyebrows.

- Thursday is your last day at work, why not from Monday? - She was tapping her pen on the desk.

- Because on Friday I have a flight from Cracow to Chicago at 12:05, where I have to wait until 19:35 to fly to San Diego. There I am at 9:47 p.m., then back to my hotel and in the morning at Comic-Con.

- Well, that's logical - she smiled and returned to her seat.

- Yup - I nodded my head.

Friday 11:00 am

I sat quietly in the waiting room, pulled out my phone and turned on Whatsapp and a new message to Jeffrey. ( Jeffrey Dean Morgan).

💬 To Jeff : I am at the airport flying out in an hour, around 10:30 in the evening I should be at the hotel.

I scraped out a message to him and before I could put my phone in my pocket a reply came.

📲 From Jeff : Bubba is not expecting anything, he walks like a nailed dog even I feel a little sorry for him.

💬To Jeff : Just not a word, he wants him to have a surprise, calm him down a bit. I know you can!

📲 From Jeff : As always! I love you horrible woman ! 💙

💬To Jeff : I love you too old man

📲 From Jeff : Pff🤬

I laughed under my breath, put my phone in my pocket and headed to check-in after just a few minutes. Just to sit on the plane at 12. I had some time to sleep, put my headphones in my ears and drifted off. Nice lady stewardess woke me up before landing in Chicago. There I bought American phone card and went for a decent meal.

Pov Jeffrey

I looked over at Norman who was standing on the terrace smoking a cigarette. His thoughts kept running to Olivia, I could see it in his eyes. He was sad or maybe angry that she didn't want to see him. Sometimes it was hard to judge him, he rarely showed his true emotions. But his eyes betrayed him, and very often. I walked out to him and leaned my back against the railing.

- Dude don't worry so much - I looked at him.

- I'm not worried - he muttered under his breath and shrugged his shoulders.

- I can just see how you are not worried - I smiled widely.

- I don't understand why he doesn't want to come. We meet every year, every year we spend three weeks together, and this year she is somehow different.

- Maybe she fell in love and her partner doesn't approve - I lit a cigarette.

- I want her to fall in love, I want her to be happy, but I don't want a partner who forbids us to see each other. Who is this guy?

- Norman - I groaned - maybe he is jealous of you, look at yourself.

- I'm nothing special - he put out his cigarette - I'm going to bed.

I wanted to tell him that she would soon be in the same hotel as us but I promised to keep it to myself. At 10:30 I got a message.

📲Of Oli: I'm at the hotel, room 313.

💬 To Ola : I'm in 5 minutes.

He put the phone in his pocket and I put on my leather jacket.

- Bubba I'm leaving, I'll be back in a while - I shouted towards Norman's bedroom.

But no one answered me, Norman was probably either taking a shower or already asleep. I sighed and went to room 313. I knocked twice on the door and heard muffled footsteps and after a few seconds the door opened. Standing in it was Olivia, her blue hair flowing loosely over her shoulders. She was wearing a loose hoodie and tight jeans.

- Hey - she smiled tiredly.

- Hey baby - I took a step and hugged her tightly.

She cuddled into my body and a tired sigh came out of her mouth. I kissed her head and rubbed her back with my hands.

- Tired ? - I moved away slightly.

- A little - she breathed - Would you like something to drink?

- Maybe a quick drink? - I smiled widely.

- Fine - she nodded and moved towards the bar.

- Honey, you look good - I took off my jacket and threw it on the back of the sofa.

- What do you mean? - She opened the bottle of whisky.

- You just look good even though you still wear those baggy sweatshirts - I watched her movements.

- They're just comfortable and I don't have to bother choosing accessories. And I really don't feel like it lately - she sat down next to me with two glasses.

- Did something happen? - I took the glass from her and furrowed my eyebrows.

- Well, my ex turned out to be a dick and that's all - she shrugged her shoulders.

She leaned her elbows on her knees and drank the liquid from the glass in one gulp. I looked at the profile of her face, she didn't even wrinkle her eyebrows.

- Are you back to drinking? - I leaned towards her.

- Can we not talk about this now? I'm here for the first day and you're already doing my fucking interrogation - she looked at me.

- But promise me we'll come back to this conversation?

- I promise if you don't say anything to Norman - she stared into my eyes.

- I won't say a fucking word to him - I smiled slightly.

- Then we'll go back to this conversation - she nodded - how is he?

- He sulks like a teenager - I laughed.

- He hasn't replied to any of my messages, he's probably angry with me.

- I bet that when he sees you tomorrow all his anger will be gone - I kissed her on the temple - you know how he is when something doesn't go his way. And he really missed you and he's sorry.

Olivia took a breath and sank deeper into the couch.

- Hey - I poked her - don't pout yet you know that if you make puppy dog eyes he is able to forgive everything.

- I hope so - she smiled uncertainly.

- You know that if you make puppy dog eyes, he will be able to forgive everything - she smiled uncertainly - After all, he loves you - I poked her - and he can't stay mad at you for too long.

Olivia looked at me and I saw a blush on her cheeks. She set her glass down on the coffee table and snuggled into my side.

- I missed you, old man -  she whispered.

- I missed you too girl - I put my arm around her.

Her head was resting under my chin, Olivia may not look like a woman we were used to. She wasn't skinny, she wasn't tall but her character made up for all her flaws. A person stops noticing her larger body stature after getting to know her. But she had one flaw, she was morbidly shy and that is why many people abandoned her. I got close to her only last year and only then I realized how big heart she has. And I want to keep her close because it's really worth it. I glanced at her, her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady. As she fell asleep, I gently pushed her away from me. I set the glass down and took her hands in mine wedding style. I headed to the bedroom, planted her on the bed holding her with my hands. I took off her sweatshirt, socks and pants, laid her on the bed and covered her with blankets.

- Sleep dear - I kissed her forehead and left her room.

I closed the door behind me and went to my room.

Pov Olivia

When I awoke to the sound of the alarm clock. I wiped my face with my hands and looked around the room. I was lying in bed in the bedroom of my rented apartment. I hit the phone and the alarm finally went off. I groaned wiping my face with my palms, I must have been drowsy last night. I threw my legs off the bed and pulled hard. I picked my phone up off the ground and opened a new message from Jeff.

📲 From Jeff : Remember that at 3 in the afternoon is our show, remember not to be late lazy !

I locked my device and shook my head. This man was impossible but that's what I loved him for. For the fact that he could listen, that he had more experience in life and could share it. He was different than Norman but after all, no two people are alike. Grabbed my phone and opened a new message to Jeff.

💬To Jeff : I hope your old bones didn't suffer when you carried me to bed.💙 Thank you, I'm not late, I'm never late.

I put my phone down on the bedside table, grabbed my clothes and headed to the shower. I had to prepare myself properly to greet my long lost friend.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was always careful about what I wore, I had to mask my excess weight somehow. I combed my hair and dried it into a bun.

Just a quick breakfast and I was ready to go. I took an Uber and after just a few minutes I found myself in front of the San Diego Convention Center. Thanks to Jeffrey's kindness I had VIP ticket so I could enter everywhere. Therefore, I went to the hall out of turn, hung around my neck badge with name and level of availability. The first thing that caught my eye was the amount of people dressed up. Cosplay was ubiquitous here, I slipped my glasses over my hair and admired their creators. People were really imaginative and I stopped at one or three stalls to buy some interesting things. Eventually I got to the place where The Walking Dead actors were, I kept my distance so none of them would recognize me. No one knew I was here, except Jeffrey of course. I watched Norman interact with the fans, his face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. He was snapping pictures with them, signing T-shirts and many other things. I smiled to myself, I loved how open he was with his fans. I took a breather and wandered around the neighborhood and at 2:30 I was already sitting in my seat in the hall where the conference was to be held.

📲Of Jeff : are you ?

💬Do Jeff : Third row, fourth seat from the left. From the middle aisle.

📲From Jeff : Divine, he wants to see Bubba's face.

I smiled under my breath, at exactly three o'clock the host started her show. She was smiling all the time under her breath, my hands started sweating strangely, I rubbed them on my pants. The first to enter was the director, then Andrew Lincoln, Jeffrey Dean Morgan and finally Norman Reedus, followed of course by the rest of the crew. I had the impression that Jeffrey immediately sought me out with his eyes. He smiled broadly and nodded slightly. I smiled back and also nodded slightly. Jeffrey looked up at me every now and then smiling. Halfway through the performance Jeffrey poked Lincoln and whispered something in his ear. Andrew lifted his head and looked around the front rows and a wide grin appeared on his lips from ear to ear. Lincoln slaps Norman hard on the shoulder, the man crouches down and mutters something under his breath. Andrew leans into his ear and whispers something. And his body tense up, he slides his hat down over his face and shifts his gaze around the audience. His eyes stopped on me, smiling broadly. Eventually, he smiled too.

Andrew watched his friend's reaction, smiling slightly. Norman pulled out his phone, and moments later mine vibrated in his pocket.

📲Of Norm : I'm gonna strangle you 🎈

[trillian-anders]

suspect - iii

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 4.3k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

The smell of death. It is unlike any other smell and once it’s something you experience; you’ll never forget it.

Bucky thought he’d seen bad crime scenes. He thought the last body he’d seen had been the worst one. But he was proven wrong. He gagged entering the small apartment, immediately being hit with the smell. Even through the face mask it hit him fully that this body must have been decomposing for a while.

He walks to the back bedroom, the forensics team snapping pictures and bagging evidence in the living rom as he walked by. The first thing he sees when he enters the room are her feet. Her ankles bound to the bed with rope, her skin puffed up around the rope itself. The ties are tight. She’s naked, her eyes are swollen shut, he could see the ligature marks around her neck, her wrists bound to the top frame of the bed. A pool of blood under her left arm, dried and crusted. Her ring finger gone.

“How long do you think?” Bucky asked. The head coroner, Bruce, his arms crossed staring at the body. Bruce shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“Anywhere from… five days to a little over a week probably.” He squats down by the side of the bed, peeking into her nostrils, Bucky gagged when he noticed the maggots. Leaving the room and trying to keep his vomit down. As he stepped out on the asphalt outside, he ripped the mask from his face taking gulps of fresh air.

Later he would wash himself with lemons and stick his nose into a bag of coffee grounds. The smell burned itself into his nostrils and the image was hard to shake. He didn’t know if he would ever sleep again.

This time he did shave, his shaky hands nicking the skin of his neck. He tied his clothes in a black trash bag and set it with his laundry, something to be tackled later and he grabbed the manila folder on his coffee table. The ripped open envelope of Cheryl Hansen’s toxicology report.

The diner was familiar to him now, and he found you at the exact same booth you’d been in last time. The notebook in front of you, laptop closed off to the side. You had a cup of coffee sitting in front of you and an empty one across. The stainless thermos pot left on the table for him to serve himself.

“Jean is the only one on right now,” You explain to him, and the woman he assumed was Jean was dealing with a couple drunks and other late-night patrons. He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Sorry for being late,” He sighs, “I had to get the smell off me.” You hum and he watches you shiver.

“It’s powerful.” You agree. And he wonders how you know what it smells like.

“Cheryl wasn’t the first victim.” He explains, setting the manila folder on the table, the open toxicology report of Cheryl’s on top. “Christine Jones was.” You sigh, looking over his hastily written notes. Everything he’d written down at the scene. How he found the body. What it looked like. What the apartment looked like. He gave you a minute while he made his coffee, plucking a creamer out of the bowl that had been left for the two of you.

“This had to have been his first,” You sigh, “The copycat… the Butcher usually doesn’t leave that kind of bloody mess.” Where her ring finger had been cut. The blood dripping down her arm.

“He usually cleans them up after.” He agrees. The blood from the finger was always cleaned before the body was disposed. His mind goes back to Cheryl’s hand. Her finger cut off at the joint, the blood half clotted like it had been done… “He cuts them off when they’re still alive.” You look up at him from the paper.

“What?”

“The finger,” Bucky explains, “He cuts them off while the girls are still alive.” It rolled like acid in his stomach.

“The Butcher didn’t do that.” Both of you know he didn’t. The Boston Butcher would take the ring finger, but it was always postmortem, the blood unable to clot. The blood unable to pump out through a cut off finger. He watches you cross your arms, leaning back against the booth, thinking. “So this copycat… he wants to murder, but he’s not confident.” You offer, “So he finds Christine… and ties her up.”

“And he removes her finger, and then strangles her.” Bucky finishes, sighing and placing his head into his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening, honestly.” A rough chuckle, “You were right.” The clink of your spoon on the little dish.

“I didn’t want to be.” You admit, “Honestly, but if this guy just killed twice in the same week…”

“Then he’s going to strike again soon.” He watches you swallow harshly, looking out the window of the diner into the parking lot.

“Where are her kids?” Bucky hadn’t known she had kids, but they apparently had been taken away by child protective services and were in foster care. Christine was struggling with a drug habit and had been disowned by her family.

He could tell how much it affected you.

“Tomorrow,” He says, “After a good night’s sleep…” which he sorely needed, “Are you able to help me talk to some of the girls?” He watches you nod, still staring out into the parking lot. You seem dazed and off kilter.

“Of course.”

Bucky wasn’t prideful, you decided. Which was a good quality in a person. You admired the fact that when you saw him in the coffee shop yesterday, he gave you faith in his belief, that maybe you could be right. He didn’t downplay it then. You admired him in the diner when he asked for your help even though 24 hours before he hadn’t truly believed you.

But you couldn’t sleep. You felt restless and sweat through your sheets. The normal lullaby of sirens and drunk yelling on the street was causing you stress and you were paranoid. You cleaned your entire apartment, clearing out your fridge, wiping down every surface and scrubbed the grout until you were to the point of exhaustion, falling asleep with the smell of bleach on your fingertips.

“You look like shit.” Sam said the next day, passing by your desk on his way in. You groaned, accepting the coffee he’d brought for you. The first sip as life’s blood, the first coffee of the day emptied and discarded in the trash can under your desk. “So, we’ve got a bigger story than we originally thought.”

“I’ll have five hundred on your desk in an hour,” You yawn, “Then I have to work on collections for the food drive.”

“When are you seeing the handsome detective again?” He asked, slight smirk as your brow furrows, “You told Riley he has strikingly blue eyes.” An eye roll made him laugh, “I’m just saying, maybe it’s kismet.” Like him and Riley.

“I’ve got work to do Sam.” He raised his hands defensively.

“You know where to find me if you want to talk.” A playful smirk on his face as he disappeared into his office.

Bucky was feeling a little better, sleeping in his own bed for longer than two hours made him feel far less fatigued and ready to tackle the day. Walking into the precinct he had a strange feeling and that feeling was further enraged by how serious Rumlow looked and Rumlow hardly ever looked serious.

“The Chief is here.” Rumlow tells him. Bucky’s eyes meet the glass window of Steve’s office, but the blinds are shut. “We’re going to have a meeting after this to talk about your vics.” Bucky’s stomach turned, which seemed to happen a lot lately. Queasy. The protein bar he shoved down for his breakfast sat like a brick in his stomach.

Alexander Pierce was a hard ass. In the three times he’s met Peirce face to face the man always had some kind of sneer on his face, like he knew he was better than everyone else.

“He likes the power.” Steve told him once while they were sitting on his back deck, and taking a sip from his beer Steve said, “He’s a prick.” Steve hated the guy and Bucky had to agree with him.

“We are starting a task force.” Pierce announced. “Our aim is to keep it under the radar,” His hands held the sides of the podium, like he was the President giving the State of the Union Address. “Which means the following, no talking to the press, no interviews, no leaked information. This is a closed-circuit case.” His eyes scanning the room, “The task force should not deter other normal duties and the numbers we require from you.”

The arrest numbers, a fucking joke. Like looking good on paper mattered more than serving and protecting. His eyes rest on Bucky, “Seeing as Barnes is the one who discovered the copycat, he will be leading the task force along with Rumlow. An agent from the FBI will be coming up to assist with the investigation. You two will decide who else will be helping you track down a suspect. I expect this not to get out to the media.” His eyes focused in on Bucky, “Under no circumstances do we want attention pulled to these murders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Rumlow answered beside him. Bucky felt himself nod. He’s going to have to figure something out, or at least something to tell you.

…

Wanda and her brother Pietro were just two of the children left behind by one of the Boston Butcher’s victims. Magda Eisenhardt. Right at the end, Magda had been one of his last victims in the 90’s. But the twins kept themselves busy, while they worked for the victim’s relief fund, they also ran their own food collection and homeless shelter. The hand they were dealt, even after foster care was much worse than your own and they sympathized heavily with people left on the streets.

Your bag had quickly been discarded in the back office and you went to join Wanda in wiping down and organizing cans and packaged goods. It was a big drop off day, which meant you might be able to grab some to bring Sophie some groceries later. Someone, very kindly, donated the rest of their baby formula. A Boston mom who had enough money to buy in bulk.

“You think we can give her a couple cans?” You lift the two in your hand. “I think she’s pretty low.” Wanda nods, scribbling onto the clipboard before tapping it down on the counter.

“Is he really back?” Soft and unsure. Like she didn’t want the actual answer. She looks at you, terrified. You let out a deep breath.

“I think so.” She sinks into the chair behind her and you set the two cans down on the table before walking over to hug her.

“I talked to Nick yesterday.” Her hand rubbing your arm that was wrapped around her shoulders. “Maybe this is what we need to help us get him out.” You sigh,

“I think it’s a copycat,” She looks up at you, “but if he sees that it’s happening maybe the real Butcher will get angry that someone is doing such a sloppy job.” A moment of silence, Wanda sheds a tear and quickly wipes it away.

“I think we can give her those and you can take her some of the pasta and canned veggies.” Standing and removing herself from your arms, grabbing a cloth tote and putting the formula and aforementioned items inside and putting it off to the side. Wanda took the death of her Mother very hard. She had been in therapy for a long time and to your knowledge she still goes, once a week like clockwork.

Pietro told you once that she feels guilty, but you couldn’t imagine why. “She feels like it’s her fault.” Over coffee, “Like our Mom buying her a barbie dream house was the thing that got her killed.” Wanda knows it wasn’t her fault. Realistically. But more in practice it was a nagging guilt in the back of her brain that made her feel like she needed to do so much good in the world to make up for the fact that her Mom needed to make money and she’d cried and whined about wanting a Barbie dreamhouse for her birthday.

“Selfish.” She’d said once.

“You’re not selfish,” You would say, “How would you have known?” How could anyone know? You don’t know when it’s going to be the last time you talk to someone. You can’t possibly know when it’s that person’s last day. And there’s no way of knowing at six years old that your Mother will be ripped from this world by a psycho.

She always answered with a shrug.

“I’m meeting with the detective tonight,” You tell her, “We’re going to go try to talk to some of the girls.” She nods, turning to you her face a little red and blotchy,

“I’ll put the feelers out here,” She says, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” You wrap her into a hug. Her arms tight around you.

“I’ll check back in tomorrow?” She nods, squeezing you a little harder before letting go. “Tell Pietro I said hi.”

“I will.”

…

Bucky was struggling and it wasn’t just because Rumlow hadn’t shut up since the meeting. But because he didn’t know what to do with you now. He knew the girls wouldn’t talk to him, and they definitely wouldn’t talk to Rumlow, but Pierce seemed to know about you. He seemed to know about the contact that Bucky had with you. Or maybe Bucky was just paranoid.

“He’s hoping to see you fail.” Steve told him, “That’s why he left you in charge… don’t let him win.” It made him uneasy. This could make or break him now and that fact did not go over his head. He could feel it as soon as Pierce said that he would oversee the task force. Just waiting for him to fail and slip real easy back behind his desk.

He sunk down behind his desk, drafting a text. Rumlow was going to be going with him to try to question some of the girls and Bucky knows that if you went with him to meet them Rumlow would have an issue with it. Especially since Pierce made such a big deal about it. No doubt he would try to kiss ass and gain favor by exploiting you.

Can’t meet up to interview. Meet at diner later?

He sighs, phone dropping heavily onto the desk. He looked across the room watching Rumlow speak closely with Pierce. It gave him a strange feeling. Like they were in on something he wasn’t. It wasn’t a secret that they knew each other. Pierce was the reason why Rumlow had even became a detective. Rumlow liked to boast nepotism between Steve and Bucky but he forgets that his own Stepfather is Chief of Police.

Rumlow doesn’t like to mention him and from the very few times Pierce had been brought up in his presence he’d visibly tensed. Bucky assumed that their relationship was strained, but the close and intimate conversation they were currently having would tell him otherwise.

Bucky cracked his knuckles. His phone dinged. Your reply,

I can go alone, diner when?

A huff, he texts back.

DO NOT GO ALONE. Just meet at diner around 12.

How dumb are you? Trying to go out alone when an active serial killer was on the loose, strolling around the red-light district by yourself. You either had a lot of confidence or a death wish.

I know someone, I’ll go talk to them and then meet you at the diner.

His brow furrows and he shook his head in disbelief,

Who do you know?

“Let’s go.” Rumlow grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and walks past Bucky without stopping. A glance up at where Pierce and Rumlow had just been talking showed Pierce glaring at his stepson’s back, his eyes flit to Bucky’s and his face became stone before turning his back.

The girls stood in small groups. Two or three, occasionally four. Whittled one by one until there would be a single girl standing alone. That’s when it would get dangerous. The goal, overall, was to see if the girls had dealt with anyone out of the ordinary lately.

Typically, serials don’t just start killing out of nowhere. There’s a steady progression of assault. Maybe there’s a guy who is a little aggressive. Maybe there’s a guy they get a bad feeling about. And hopefully someone would be willing to talk.

…

Sophie gave you a name when you’d dropped off the formula and canned goods. A girl Cheryl was really close with. “She said they were coworkers.” Sophie told you, “So she’s probably in the same situation.” A quick look found her address, not too far from where Sophie lived. You were going attempt to drop by, see if she was in and if not… then you would just have to go see if any of the girls would talk to you.

A knock on the apartment door, you could hear something going on inside. She must be home. Or at least, someone is. The door is ripped open, the chain jerked tight against the opening as a man looks out at you from inside.

“Can I help you?” Not friendly, not that you expected him to be.

“Is Angel here?” He pauses, looking behind him for a moment and talking to someone in the room before turning back.

“Who are you?” He didn’t turn you away so that’s good at least.

“I’m a friend of Sophie’s.” You cross your arms across your chest, feeling a chill. “Sophie told me to come talk to Angel about Cherry.” He looked back into the room, shutting the door and then reopening it, stepping back.

“Come on.” His head poking out into the hallway and shutting the door behind you. You could see the girl you were looking for, sitting just before you on the couch, curled up into herself, sniffling. Her eyes were red, hair messy and a tissue in her hand.

“What do you want?” She sounds congested and she doesn’t get up when you walk further into the apartment.

“I’m Y/N,” You offer, “I work with the VRF for those affected by—”

“The Butcher.” She nods, “I’ve heard.” You nod,

“Do you know who Cherry went with that night? Have you seen anyone suspicious?” A humorless laugh,

“Most of the johns are suspicious.” She shakes her head. But that’s fair, “I saw her get into the car, but I wasn’t paying attention to the plate or anything. It was normal…” A harsh swallow, “It just seemed so normal.”

“Do you remember anything about the car itself?” Sinking down onto the couch next to her, “Anything identifiable? Color? Make? Model?” She shrugs, balling the tissue into her fist.

“It was like… it looked like a cop car, but it wasn’t.”

“Like one of the ones they sell at auction.” The man spoke from his spot in the doorway, “An old police cruiser that had been stripped and sold and probably sold at auction.” You nod,

“Okay,” That’s helpful. Really helpful. “Did you get a glimpse of who was in the car, by any chance?”

“No.” She looks at her knees, “I’ve been afraid to go back out, since they found her.” Understandably so, “But I’m going to have to…” A pause, “I think you should go.”

It was clear she was having a hard time, you truly felt bad for her. The situation she must be in. “If you think of anything else.” She nods, taking the business card. Stepping back out onto the street you found yourself a little more confident than before.

A police cruiser gone to auction was a lead. It would at least give you a list of suspects. The excitement in that, was unreal.

…

Bucky rest his head on the steering wheel after having parked in front of the diner. His head pounding. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he would be able to do this and it just started. He felt like he would gain an inch, a girl willing to say something. Anything, and as soon as she started to open up and get some real ground with him, Rumlow would say something cheap.

He’s fucking up the investigation.

But it’s just him. Bucky thought Rumlow was a good detective. Before this. But now, how did the guy solve anything? He clearly made the girl uncomfortable. And he wanted to throttle Rumlow when her voice resigned, said, “I have to get going.” Before moving to a different block.

“They’re disgusting.” Rumlow spat on the ground. Bucky groaned at the smell of dip spit. “Like talk about lack of dignity.”

“They’re people too.” Bucky wanted to go. Maybe this is how he fails, Rumlow is his iron anchor, drowning him. A knock on his window startles him, sitting back in his drivers’ seat and sighing he sees your face through the glass and kills the ignition.

“You good?” You ask him as he steps from the car. He scrubs his hand over his face, head still pounding.

“Yeah, I think I just need to eat.” He watches Marie give you a strange look as the two of you walk to what seemed to be your normal table, something you shrug off as you drop your bag heavily on the seat squished between you and the window as he sat across from you.

Soda and iced tea. Bucky ordered a burger and you a club sandwich.

“They don’t want me talking to you,” He starts with. “Chief made it clear that he wanted no press involvement.” You sigh across from him,

“So what are you going to do?” He was trying to read your face, but you seemed as though you’d been expecting him to say that. Like it didn’t surprise you in the slightest. He thought about it.

He thought about what he wanted to do. He’d been thinking about it all day. “My gut is telling me to work with you.” He sits back as Marie comes with the plates, a soft thank you and a smile. “I want to work with you.” And he wanted to know more. Why you ran this relief fund. Why you were so passionate about it. He had a theory. But he would need to look into it a bit more, or he could just ask.

“I got a lead.” You grin at him, plucking a fry from your plate, “So Angela Bennet, she goes by Angel, a friend of Cheryl’s, she said she saw Cheryl get into a retired police cruiser, like the ones they sell at auction.” He feels his mouth drop slightly,

“Like the old white and blue Fords?” You nod, popping another fry into your mouth.

“I can run a search for cars gone to auction.” He takes a bite of his burger. Maybe that’s something else he can talk to Steve about. Steve bought his Dad’s old cruiser years ago as a novelty. Steve often cleared stuff for auction and would maybe help him profile someone who would want to buy a police cruiser, maybe the type of guys that would go to those auctions to buy. “My friend Steve, he would know more about the old cruisers.” They’d had a huge overhaul in 2015 at their precinct. New, updated cruisers with more bells and whistles. They’d gone out in reliability in the last decade of having them.

“If you could get a good picture of one,” You start, “We can start asking around.” That was a good idea.

“Tomorrow, maybe we should go talk to Fury.” If Fury was the Butcher, then he would be able to give them some insight into what kind of person they’re looking for. If he wasn’t… well Bucky could cross that bridge when he got to it.

“I can’t tomorrow.” You take a sip of your drink, “We have the group meeting tomorrow for the VRF.”

“Do a lot of people go to that?” How had he never heard of this before? You shrug,

“We pull a descent crowd.”

“Well maybe that’s what we could do tomorrow.” And he could talk to some of the people attached to the 90’s cases. Get some information, “But I would have to bring Rumlow.” He just wanted to get rid of him, this pain in his ass, Rumlow the insensitive shit.

“Why?” Bucky sighs, sitting back against the booth.

“He’s my partner for the case now that it’s a serial.” A shake of his head, “They’re sending someone up from the FBI too, trying to get ahead of it.” You roll your eyes across from him.

“Ahead of the bad press, you mean.” A harsh sigh, “Back in the 90’s they did the same thing, no one even knew that the Butcher existed until they took Fury in for questioning.” Maybe he should ask. Maybe he should just…

“How do you know so much about this?” He watched you stiffen slightly, “Why are you so invested?” You dropped the fry you’d been toying with back on your plate before sighing and leaning back, matching his posture.

“Because my Mom was one of the victims.”

[earnestly-endlessly]

Do you mind doing a list of your favourite modern AUs? A mix is powered and non-powered fics is okay :) TY!

I'm so sorry how late I am with this, but here’s my looooong list of my favourite modern AUs. I hope that you like this list and can find some fics in there that you haven’t read before. Enjoy!

*******

Cherik Modern AU Fic Recs 

Sprich Mit Mir | Talk To Me – dreamweavers

Summary: When Charles meets Erik on a midnight train to London, it’s like all of his Christmases and birthdays have come at once – until Erik opens his mouth, and reveals he cannot speak a word of English.

It isn’t easy to pursue a relationship with someone you need to play Pictionary with just to chat to, but with a little help from Charles’ telepathy, the two language-barrier lovers are determined to make it work.

Come as you are – scarlettblush

Summary: Hospital AU. The one where Charles unknowingly woos a coma patient with Pride and Prejudice. Years later, they meet again.

The Man on the Train – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Charles is heading home from a shift at the busy emergency department of the urban hospital where he works as a nurse. He meets Dr. Erik Lehnsherr on the train, who is clearly interested in Charles, but Charles has a rule. He does not date doctors. Not at all. Never, ever ever. But he does shake his ass at Erik, which might be his downfall.

Eyes on Fire – Black_Betty

Summary: Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.

Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...

(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)

Paper Monsters – Clocks

Summary: Fill for this prompt: Charles meets Erik Lehnsherr, his favorite novelist of all time at a coffee shop, but doesn't know it's him, and Erik just criticizes his own writing in front of his biggest fan.

Order Up - ikeracity

Summary: Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up. Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Some Things Are Meant To Be – Ikeracity

Summary: Erik is a famous singer. Charles is a closeted fan. When Raven drags him to Erik's concert, the last thing Charles expects is for Erik to single him out of the crowd, for Erik to look right at him as he sings. And the last, last thing he expects is for Erik to personally serenade him and pull him on stage and kiss him senseless, because some things are meant to be and Erik knows it.

Rumor Mill – Ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends. So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Serendipity – humanveil

Summary: Charles sends a text to the wrong number.

[10:22 AM]

Can we meet for coffee? I just got dumped.

[10:30 AM]

I think you've got the wrong number.

[10:31 AM]

Unless you make a habit of texting people you don't know about this sort of thing?

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

Frosted Hearts – aesc, palalife

Summary: Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: As teens, Charles was the star of a super popular tween/teen television show and Erik was his best friend. As adults, they're a frighteningly domestic married couple and Alex, Darwin, and Sean are Erik's nosy co-workers.

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

The Proper Care of Actors – afrocurl, Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Curve Fitting – kianspo

Summary: The weird thing is, Charles always introduces Raven as his sister, but he never calls Erik his brother. Erik would be bothered, except he prefers not to think of Charles as his brother, either. He can’t figure it out for four years, and then suddenly he can.

Or. A non-powered AU in which Sharon Xavier never remarries, and Charles 'adopts' not only Raven, but Erik too.

Right Person, Wrong Time – PoppyX

Summary: "TL;DR Charles is an insecure high school student who loses his virginity to the right person at the wrong time, and Erik makes it up to him in a romantic manner."

Favorite Mistake by endingthemes

Summary: Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) by oddegg

Summary: For a 1stclass-kink meme promp: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

From Westminster With Love - thehoyden

Summary: NATO intelligence says there’s an omega-class telepath who sleeps under Westminster. Major Erik Lehnsherr is about to find out the truth for himself.

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives by kianspo

Summary: Non-powered college AU. Erik and Charles have nothing in common until they end up having sex at someone's party. They don't have much in common after that, either, but find each other a hard habit to quit.

irreconcilable differences (make for surprisingly good bedfellows) – pocky_slash

Summary: Tonight on The Evening Report with Malcolm Stevens, noted geneticist and mutant equality proponent Dr. Charles Xavier faces off with the infamous mutant rights activist Magneto in a live televised debate over the Genetic Nondiscrimination Act.

(At least, if they can stop flirting long enough to stay on topic.)

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Made To Be Broken - Yahtzee

Summary: Charles makes a New Year's Resolution: “No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.”

Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Anarchy In The U.K. – Yahtzee

Summary: "Good God, Erik thought. The Prince of Wales is gay."

Charles lives in the unceasing glare of the public spotlight, yet keeps his sexual orientation a closely held secret, afraid he could lose his throne and force his deeply troubled younger sister into a role that would crush her. Erik, journalist and world traveler, has been a loner most of his life; he has little patience for closet cases. But a chance meeting in Kenya brings these two opposites together and sets in motion a love affair that will challenge the British monarchy -- and their most deeply held beliefs about who they are, and who they should be.

An Ideal Grace – afrocurl

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

An absence which could not be more there – aesc

Summary: He prepared to shift another half-step over to the Current Events section (which would, of course, enrage him) when the teaser positioned by the model's left elbow caught his eye: DATING WHILE TELEPATHIC: WHY I DON'T DO IT.

rooms/shares – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik is single, working a cube job he hates, letting his master's degree in mutant studies collect dust, and living on his best friend's couch. When she kicks him out, he's forced to trawl Craigslist for the least-offensive rooming option within his meagre budget. He never expects a response from the persnickety, high maintenance ad he replies to as a joke, but it's possible this too-nice apartment and mysteriously absent roommate might be the answer to all four of his problems.

Heli Cases –Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Guilty by Association – Regann

Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

This Is Not Comedy – baehj2915

Summary: Written for amarriageoftrueminds' prompt for a Cherik version of Louis CK's tangent about the fuckability of Ewan McGregor.

Naturally the similarities end there. I made this about Erik's full on public lust-filled gay revelation, and the chaos that spirals from there.

Politico – cygnaut

Summary: Modern Genosha Politics AU. In which Erik is l'enfant terrible of the mutant National Assembly, and his staff just wants to get him laid.

Conspiracy of Kisses –  Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

The Pretender – Clocks

Summary: Charles is sick of having his best friend Erik drop to one knee and fake-propose to him in restaurants, just to score a free dessert. He doesn’t know which is worse: the complete embarrassment, or the likelihood that Erik doesn’t mean a word of it.

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Lonesome On the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby.

Watch Your Back – swoopswoop

Summary: Bodyguard AU where Erik is overly protective and things aren't as simple as they seem.

Dress Your Family in Plaid and Skinny Jeans – cygnaut

Summary: Erik and Charles meet at the mutant playgroup/parenting support circle and they instantly hit it off. And so do their kids, Lorna and David.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

cradles you and connects you to everything – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles and Erik spend a chilly November afternoon in Manhattan doing not much at all. Also, there are cupcakes, chess, and Feelings.

[shaineybainey]

“Noble Intentions”

Lab Rats [T]

The Lab Rats and Mighty Med teams face off with the greatest threat to humanity yet: The Incapacitator, a supervillain bent on becoming the most powerful in the planet. …Which makes things super awkward for Leo, considering that their newest nemesis is his father. AU. Lab Rats vs Mighty Med redux.

** DISCLAIMER: SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR DISCLAIMER **

tagging: @weareoutofmaplesyrupdave @allhailkingbob @neshatriumphs @vcnting @verified-dumbass @serpent-princess @clockradio93 @lover-of-dc-comics @dysfunction-ality @eclecticlawyergardengoth 

VIII: The Night of Infinite Hours, Side B

Tecton rubs his eyes, stinging now from staring at the twenty-foot screen of the League’s supercomputer. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this to himself. They’ve refreshed the radar four times already. If there was a change in result, it would have told him.

“You look terrible, Alex. You really should get some sleep.”

He looks up, only to find a mug of hot coffee being held in front of his face. “Thanks.”

“That’s not going to hold you up for long, though.”

I know, Tecton thinks wearily. It’s turning out to be one of his longest patrol as of yet.

Sharp takes her seat beside him, her own cup of coffee nestled safely in her hand. “Might not be a bad idea to get some shut eye. You never know when Incapacitator will slip and show up.”

“That’s why I can’t go to sleep. I have to wait.”

His colleague looks at him a while, analyzing. Then, she leans back on her chair and smirks up to the screen. “I’ll give it about seven minutes of good fight time.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Magda, please. Don’t do this. I’m already wiped as it is.”

The superhero smiles.

Tecton sighs. Nice. An admittance from him.

He can never win an argument with her.

“Geraldine has been down for almost three hours now. Gray Granite’s recharging, too,” Sharp comments as Tecton takes a cautious sip of his drink. “I can stay up for you, if you need. You know I’m used to pulling all-nighters now.”

Tecton smiles. “You’re not a prospect anymore. You don’t need to do scut work.”

“I’ve only been in the League for three months. I’ve still got a lot to prove.”

Tecton chuckles. “Congratulations, by the way.”

She only glances at him, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Silence settles between the two of them for the longest while. Tecton can’t decide whether it’s comfortable, strained, or a weird cross of both.

As he thinks of ways to fill the void, Sharp speaks again. “What do you think of the new prospects?”

The new prospects? It takes him a while. “You mean the kids?”

“Yeah. The twins. Shockwave...”

Tecton leans back on his seat, pensive. “They’re promising.”

Sharp scoffs. “Solar Flare isn’t here. You can trash talk them all you want – especially the blondes.”

Tecton laughs. “You do know you’re talking to one.”

“Please. This isn’t about you. I just mean those particular set of blondes.”

“You seem to feel very strongly about Quasar and Pulsar.”

“I feel very something about those girls, especially one of them.” Sharp looks at him. “I just want to know if I’m alone in this or if you feel the same thing, too.”

His brows furrow. “Like…?”

She holds his frown for a long moment, not once faltering in her gaze. When she sees he won’t be the first to surrender, she resumes her watch of the screen. “It’s a mistake to hire one of them,” she comments straight-faced.

He smirks. “Scarlet thought it was a mistake to hire you.”

“We both know why.”

At that, the smirk on his face shrinks. With so many problems in the world that they have to solve, he often forgets that problems also exist within their ranks.

He really shouldn’t be surprised. After all, they’re still human too – just like the people they save. “Magda - “

“I’m getting a bad feeling from them,” Sharp cuts him off. “One of them is two-faced. At the moment, I just can’t pinpoint who.”

“Is this because of what you found on the log from the training center?”

Sharp says nothing, but it’s obvious that the answer is yes.

Tecton takes a deep breath. It’s an issue that Gamma Girl and Spotlight had also asked him to look into. Since Sharp brought to their attention the fishy activities of the twin teenage girls, she and Solar Flare had been at odds with each other.

Scarlet will defend her mentees to the death, and Magda won’t back down on her stand regarding the trainees.

Remembrance of that causes his shoulders to feel heavier.

“Forget it,” Sharp says, her features distant and pragmatic now. “Have you told the boy’s parents what needs to happen after he gets home?”

His brain sputters once again. When it clears, though, he finds that he’s once again staring at another problem. “No,” he says. “I haven’t.”

“Can I do it?”

He sighs for what feels like the hundredth time that night. “No, I’ll—”

“Alex. You know you don’t have to do everything that needs to be done under the sun,” Sharp reproves. “That’s why you have us. We’re a team. You have to divide the load. That’s why you’re looking a lot older lately. You take so much of what you shouldn’t.”

He stares at her. “I look old.”

“Yes.”

“Lately.”

“Sí.” She grins at the screen. “Muy viejo.”

He chuckles humorlessly. There are so many things he want to say: he takes on so much because he has to; he takes on so much because he needs to. He takes on so much because the world needs him, and he takes on so much because that’s what he needs to do with his gifts.

But then, Sharp looks at him with a soft, warm smile and says, “You’re not alone, you know” – and all of those thoughts cease.

“I know,” he acquiesces.

Sharp nods. She takes another sip of her coffee.

“The program seems to be very important to you.”

“We’re giving children the care they need, and we’re giving them a second chance. What’s not to like about it?”

He smiles. “You know, half the League is still not comfortable about you eyeing Katrina Lee as your sidekick.”

“Trainee,” she corrects. “Are you not comfortable about it?”

Tecton thinks about it. He shakes his head. “No, I am,” he says. “The things her father did are not the same things she’s doing.”

“Mm, I believe that, too. Plus, Dr. Farrow says she’s been doing well and comes to all their appointments.” Sharp shoots a smirk his way. “Kat is a smart girl, very promising. It won’t be fair if she’s just forever known as Megahertz’ daughter.”

Tecton agrees. He thinks about the program, thinks about the two girls currently being helped. He also thinks about The Incapacitator, his negative opinion of superheroes, and then his son. “I want to tell them,” he says.

“Tell...who?”

“The Davenports,” he says. “I know we can’t change the minds of all supervillains, but maybe we can try again with another one. Incapacitator became who he is because no one came to help his family when they needed help. But maybe, if we take care of his son, maybe that would change his opinion of us.”

“I don’t know. That may be a bit of a long shot,” Sharp says. Still, she smiles at him. “It’s a pretty good idea, though.”

“Worth the shot, right?”

“Always.”

Tecton smiles down at his coffee, thrilled at the ray of light the action might shed on the world.

“Still, that’s cheating. You’re still not dividing responsibilities.”

He grins. “Alright, how about this? How about I go to sleep, so you’ll stop nagging me, and then I tell the parents about the program?”

“Sounds great. Your face is making me feel sleepy anyway.”

Tecton scoffs, getting on his feet. “I’m still the leader of the league, you know.”

She leans her head back to look at him. “Yeah. Your eye bags totally scream authority.”

Tecton can’t help but laugh. The other members of the league rarely crack jokes, and he’d say the relationship between all of them is more business than a real friendship.

Secretly, he likes having someone who pushes against the norm. “Thanks, Sharp.”

“You’re welcome, Tecton.”

At that end of the conversation, Tecton leaves.

A soft trill from the supercomputer stops him in his tracks. “Uh oh,” Sharp says. “Hold up on that sleep, Blondie. Alley Cat just sent us a message.”

“What does it say?”

“Watchdog tip. Junction City, Kansas. Seems like there’s some villains on the way to this one house.” Finding him reading beside her, she frowns. “What’d you ask me to read it for? You’re right here!”

Tecton switches from the message to the general energy anomaly register radar. There, they see two dots coming in towards their target destination. “This isn’t good,” he says. “Civilian neighborhood. We can be looking at casualties.”

“I’ll wake up Geraldine and Gray Granite.”

“I’ll contact Blue Tornado.”

“Alex,” Sharp calls after him as he speeds out.

He stops, spins around. “What?”

She gives him an impatient look. “Two on the radar, but there may be more,” she says kindly. “You’re tired. You can’t get in a rumble in your condition.”

“I’m fine.”

“The people in that house,” she reasons, “they can get hurt if you’re not in tiptop shape.”

Tecton pauses. She’s right. As much as she joked, he knows her estimate of there being only seven minutes of good fight is accurate. He’s tired, and in a rumble exhaustion is a weapon that the opposing team can use.

Once again, she wins the argument. “I’ll go as backup.”

“Alex.”

“I promise,” he nods, his feet already taking him towards the action. “Message us if something comes up on Incapacitator!”

Inside the Core, Magda only slumps to her seat, dreading what the unheeded warning might bring.

[leeholtwrites]

Magical Girl Reunion Tour Chapter 2

MAGDA

Viridian dodged around the pillow. He sat down on the coffee table, still well within throwing range and cocked his head. "I don't understand your hostility. When you made the agreement, you were quite happy."

The only thing stopping her from trying to high kick Viridian through the roof of her second-story apartment was her couch. She had already thrown the only pillow on her couch because she wasn't home enough to amass a throw pillow army like her heart desired. The only option that remained to her was a slow march between said couch and her stationary bike. "It's been twenty years!" she shouted. "Last time I saw you, I almost died. What makes you think I would be happy to see you again?"

Viridian rose his head. "You were triumphant. You did your task well. You should be proud of yourself. Why are you angry? Wouldn’t you want to work together again to defeat great evil?"

By now she had reached the table and was attempting to do her best to loom over him. Besides her anger, the thought that her dinner was getting past it's prime eating window was slowly nudging its way in. "Find someone else. I'm not interested. Now get out of my apartment."

"Queen Omira has returned." His voice was quiet, almost solemn. "Your pact was that you would serve until she was defeated, for good. I did not expect to have to come to you again. I thought the worst of this encounter would be having to break this news to you. You're anger at me was not…."

"What you expected? Yes, because being a child forced to fight a great evil is such a pleasant experience. You weren't here for - after. You left me." Hot tears stung her eyes. "You should have been here."

"I - I don't understand."

Magda sighed, sitting down on her couch. The smell of barbeque chicken wafted up from the near by take-out bag and her stomach growled. With Viridian sitting here, the source of such a bittersweet moment in her life, she knew she shouldn't be hungry, but she dragged the bag to her and pulled out the Styrofoam container. So bad for the Earth, but all the best food seem to come out of one.

"Look," she said as she popped open the container. "You once said that we were strong because of our youth, that we hadn't grown up enough yet to be tainted. Even Sarah, whose home life wasn't great, enjoyed life so much. We were all so naïve. I am no longer that way. I'm an adult now with a job and bills and a therapist who I have to half-lie to because how do you explain how a robot cat-thing recruited you to fight an evil energy vampire queen when you were a teenager." She shoveled macaroni salad into her mouth. "By your rules, I'm literally to old for this shit."

After a moment of silence, he asked, "Do you still have your wand?"

She tore into the barbeque chicken as aggressively as she could. "Why? Do you want it back? I always thought it was weird you never took it back."

Viridian wrinkled his nose. "Why must you talk with your mouth full? I thought you more sophisticated than that." His whole body seemed to settle. "And no. You would keep the want until your passing, a fond memory of your time a Rainbow Defender. As I said, I never intended for you to have to use it again. But now you must take up your wand again and battle Queen Omira to defend Earth from her voracious appetite. If you don't stop her, then all life will fade away."

She sighed, poking at her rice. "I can't." Magda met Viridian's large, liquid eyes. Eyes that looked too cute to really be unsettling. "Find another team of teenage girls, just, don't let them deal with the aftermath on their own this time. Okay? You need to make sure they'll be fine."

"There is no one else. Only one team can exist at a time. What about the rest of your team? What will they say?"

Tears stung Magda's eyes again as the photo hanging on her wall flashed in her memory. "I haven't spoken to them in so long. I wouldn't even know how to reach them."

He straightened, raising his head, taking on the air of superiority Magda was so used to. "Well, find your wand and we shall contact the rest of your team. The have a right to know no matter how reticent you are to act."

Magda stared at him, her mouth full.

"You may finish your dinner, of course."

She swallowed. "Fine. I'll contact them for you, but I don't know how they'll react to seeing me again. Like I said, it's been a while."

Viridian nodded curtly in agreement.

Eating the rest of her food didn't take as long as she thought. Magda was so hungry, she had spent most of their conversation steadily shoveling food in her mouth. She cleaned up the takeout and picked up her discarded jacket and vest from the table before heading back to her bedroom. Viridian padded along next to her, not seeming to notice the pictures of her long ago friends lining the wall. Her team.

She dumped her dirty clothes in the dry-cleaning pile next to her closet. The closet door sat open, revealing a row of empty hangers and a rack of dark shoes. Magda reached up to the stack of dusty shoe boxes on the top shelf. Gingerly, she slid one off the bottom of the stack, a thin film of dust coating her fingers. Still standing facing her closet, she opened the box, dropping the lid onto the floor.

There it lay, her wand. She reached in the box to touch the pink, diamond-textured handle, but couldn't bring herself to. It was just as she remembered after all these years. Delicate gold filigreed over the crystal orb at the top. The gold pommel. It looked like a high-end recreation of some cheap prop used in a kids show.

She sat on her bed, the box in her lap. Viridian perched next to her, he head looking into the box over her arm. "It's lost some of it's luster. Why didn't you take care of it better?"

Magda was barely listening to him. Underneath the wand lay a stack of newspaper clippings. The memory of sitting on her floor in her bedroom with a pair of hot pink scissors, cutting out each one with a stead hand, brought back the tears. She sniffled to keep them contained, but then she saw the photo.

Five girls smiled up at her from under the edge of the wand, their arms around each other. The positively radiated dressed in their Rainbow Defender uniforms. Magda wiped at her cheek with a dusty hand. A sad smile rose to her lips unbidden. Even after passing those pictures she hung in he hall everyday, she never really realized how much she really missed her team. Her friends.

She took a deep breath and reached into the box to grasp her wand. The diamond textured handle seemed to mold to her touch, suddenly the most comfortable thing she ever held. The crystal glowed, and the gold grew luminous. She placed the box on her bed and rose.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let's see if I remember how this thing works."

Magda took a deep breath to still her pounding heart as she extended her arm. "I call your true form," she called strong and firm. The wand flashed gold and when the light faded away she held a staff her height. "Well, that's new. I swear this thing was shorter the last time I used it."

Viridian cocked his head again. "It appears to have made some adjustments."

He didn't sound too sure, which just shook what little confidence Magda had. She looked the staff up and down. The crystal had elongated, the gold filigree almost looking even more like a net. Gold wings had emerged from the base of the crystal to almost caress the gem. Those hadn't changed. "Well, everything else seems the same."

"Good," he said as he hopped down from the bed and wrapped himself around her legs like a cat. "Think of one of the members of your team. May I suggest Shonda? She was always quite level headed."

Magda sighed. Shonda. She was practically her right hand during her defender days. A dark skinned girl who was very proud of her natural hair. And so goddamned smart it made Magda sweat just thinking about it.

She gripped the staff and took another breath. "Shonda it is."

Magda closed her eyes, extending her will, wishing, for her wand to take her to Shonda, the smart girl with the great smile. There was a flash and the air changed, birds sang. The air no longer felt like a dry blast furnace of a place. She slowly opened her eyes.

Barefoot she stood in the middle of a street in front of a solidly upper middleclass house.

[krolock-in-the-snowlock]

Part 2 - Broadway’s Dance of the Vampires Commentary

Act 2

• And here we are again, after taking a week or two to recover from act 1

• I have no idea what’s going to happen but I’m gonna finish what I started, no matter what it takes

• Ok the video is ready, I don’t think I am but here we go

• Ok well the opening music was more like titanic than tanz

• Ooh ok we have lots of vague figures on stairs, probably vampires but it’s hard to tell with the 480p video quality

• Hmmm are we having a reprise of totale finsternis?

• That staircase is looking

• Glad to see the audience is cracking up again at the use of total eclipse of the heart

• Those couple guys are having a great time

• They’re like

• haHAAA

• Good for them

• Glad someone’s enjoying this

• I would be annoyed that this whole thing is seen as funny when the original scene is really cool but hey this whole thing is just one big old parody so what could I expect

• Distancing myself from it by calling it a parody is the only thing getting me through thiis

• I don’t think they’re using all the same lyrics as total eclipse so at least there’s that

• But the lyrics are too romancey and soppy ugh

• Michael your singing is actually quite nice aside from the hint of giovannui at the edges of your words

• ARE THEY NOT DOING THE HARMONIES

• NO

• The harmonies are the best part of the song noooo

• And I think his voice would probably harmonise quite well

• And he ISN’T SINGING TURN AROUND WITH THE BACKING SINGERS

• wHY

• there was no dramatic krolock walking down the staircase slowly

• but then again I don’t think giovanni could do that

• he’d probably trip on the second step, crash down the stairs and be like I’m a-fine! Hee hee!

• Oh

• Oh no

• I think they are doing harmonies but they’re just

• Wrong

• So wrong

• Or maybe good ol’ giovanni has just forgotten the key he’s supposed to be singing in

• Entirely possible

• I don’t think giovanni would particularly care about the rules of music

• Oh giovanni is literally just like come to the gates of hell with me and sarah seems chill with iy

• She’s singing along

• She’a having a good time

• NOOO they harmonised poorly during the verse where there should be no harmonies but they sTILL WON’T HARMONISE IN THE CHORUS

• I HATE IT

• -22/10 would not listen again

• But then that sums up the whole musical tbh

• The phrase ‘hold me tight’ should not be in this song

• Wrong vibes my friends

• This fails the vibe check

• Oh no they’re attempting a couple of the original harmonies

• 2 lines in and it’s not going well

• ???????

• Wait

• They’re both singing harmonies for sarah’s line but NOBODY IS SINGING SARAH’S LINE

• Sarah sing your own part

• What r u doing

• Sarah

• This is horrible pls stop

• Once again the staging is mostly just the two pigeons again

• Except the squawking is more evenly split between the two

• Back and forth

• Wait

• Hmm

• There appears to be either a cult or aa group of monks (is there a name for that? A flock of pigeons, a murder of crows, a prayer of monks?) gathering in the backgroubd

• Did nobody tell them yhis room was taken

• Or maybe sarah and giovanni didn’t book the room

• Maybe it’s just turned midnight and their hour is up

• Someone check the dramatic staircase room booking sheet pls

• Ok ok but there’s nothing you can do, a total eclipse of the heart??

• The whole point is that sarah is trying to choose to be free and make her own choices

• If there’s nothing she can do then that sort of defeats the purpose

• Oh wait yeah this sarah wasn’t locked up

• Never mind

• None of this makes sense anyway

• Really missing krolock’s cape rn

• Nothing looks as good without it

• If giovanni had a cape he might even make it from a -13/10 to nearly a 1/10

• Oh the cult is following giovanni

• Maybe he invited them..?

• Having that many candles on the stairs cab’t be practical

• And tbh is frankly quite dangerous if u ask me

• …and once again we end with some undeservinf applause

Round 4: the boys are back in town

• Ah here comes alfred with his self-narration

• Did he just lightly crack the fourth wall..?

• Oh god and the vampire hunting squad is joined by giovanni ‘buonasera’ von krolock

• Ew did he just say scrumptious? That word should be spoken by grannies and posh mothers alone

• I love how he’s just sat in a throne in the middle of nowhere

• Is this outside his castle? Inside? Somewhere else entirely? We may never know

• Oh sorry I stand corrected it appears I have been incorrectly naming giovanni this whole time

• His full name appears to be count giovanni coppolini travancoli von krolock (or something along those lines) of the sicilian side of the family

• Albus percival wulfric brian dumbledore anyone?

• I just.

• Why is he italian

• Krolock does not sound remotely italian

• Do vampires have a connection to italy?

• If so I am not aware

• Once again, I must ask: why is 75% of the staging of this musical just people stood at opposite ends of the stage facing each other

• Those bats look like family? I guess they would

• Oh my god why is alfred threatening giovanni

• I guess nobody’s gonna be pretending not to know what the others are

• Which gets straight to the point I suppose

• While not necessarily good at self-preservation, alfred sure is efficient

• But maybe too efficient because we still have an hour left to go

• This version of alfred is like a chihuahua with small dog sydrome yapping at a bigger dog, excpet giovanni is only slightly bigger than him and is probably a flea-infested chinese crested dog dressed in a halloween costume from wish.com

• …piccolo alfredo.

• This scene is really bringing out the offensively fake italian in giovanni

• WHY. IS. HE. OFFERING. ALFRED. A. SPONGE. SHAPED. LIKE. A. PENIS

• WHY IS HE MAKING IT GO FLACCID EWWWW NOOO

• I NEED EYE AND BRAIN BLEACH

• Are they saying… erbert..?

• Oh yay he’s french

• Quick tip, directors: the french would not pronounce the t either unless you added an e at the end (I think)

• Also e is more like air rather than er from what I remember

• So really it would be airbair??

• Which is stupid

• Tl;dr: do not make him french and still call him herbert

• Oh and herbert wearing bright blue? No thx I prefer his purple sparkles and black

• His hair and wig aren’t even done well *sigh* herbert would hate this

• See giovanni made a joke and the audience clearly liked it but I could not catch a word of what he said

• Oh god this herbert is wrong

• Herbert never actually speaks to krolock in tanz

• Which tbh is a shame but i prefer it over… whatever this is…

• Huh so it is set in transylvania, giovanni and airbear are just italian and french bc y not

• Neat

• Cool cool cool

• Wait so they were in the library the whole time???????

• I’m so confused rn

• Why does his library have a coffee bar..? you know what, never mind

• Ah ambronsius is clearly about to sing his book song

• …or maybe not? Giovanni is apparently trying to seduce him too..?

• The staging is a bit like vor dem schloss

• It’s the right time for it but who knows

• And one of the first decent harmonies of the musical is a line between giovanni and ambronsius singing about books bc apparently this is a book club now

• Oh no is koukol called boris

• If it isn’t boris johnson I’m gonna be disappointed (or relieved)

• Apparently the throne just glides backwards

• Like a magic carpet exceot it doesn’t leave the ground so i suppose actually more like a chair with wheels, which is much less exciting

• That didn’t deserve a clap

• I can’t figure out if they’re being open about their intentions or not because they seem to change their minds every 10 seconds

• There’s suddenly a bed?

• Oh god ok let’s see if they mess up carpe noctem

• Well the music is for an entirely different song so this will be interesting

• Hmm ok it is that completly different song

• Is that airbear..?

• Or alfred #2?

• Bc it should be krolock singing that song but idek

• At least we get a cape and mostly good singing

• Ah here we go

• Carpe noctem looking its usual weird self

• oH GOD NOT ITS USUAL SELF

• I do not remember winged demons dancing on the bed in the original

• But hey there’s more capes

• Something to be grateful for

• I’m really not sure what’s going on here

• Oh ok I can finally see the dream krolock

• He’s doing all those jumps in a suit rather than shirtless with leggings so he looks a little less cool sorry to him

• But yh i still have no idea who is singing the main vocals

• And it’s over

• Ha alfred lowkey looks like brian david gilbert in that one bit

• Sorry alfred your i’m scared but i’m gonna do this for sarah song isn’t quite as sweet when you’re super confident

• One thing i never understood was how ambronsius slept through alfred’s singing

• Ah it appears he did not

• He’s hugging ambronsius..?

• Does he do that in the original?

• Ha ha very funny professor sibilance and homovampiricus

• Oh and alfred happily just whacks chagal on the head nice nice totally in character

• The coffins are empty???

• Why is chagal in a nice coffin

• Where does giovanni sleep

• I guess in his floating mansion of a coffin

• If anything herbert would have that

• WHY IS MRS CHAGAL HERE

• WHY IS ALFRED EAGER TO KILL CHAGAL

• Oh he’s finally turning magda

• ..and his wife?

• Apparently

• Are they in a polyamorous relationship now

• They will not all fit in that one coffin I’m sorry

• And here’s herbert

• Ew herbert is so cheap

• Like he was flirty in the original but this is ridiculous

• Ugh too many cheap gay jokes

• airbear is sO much worse than I could have imagined

• Huh maybe alfred is confirmed a little bi here

• Ok yeah alfred is definitely having his bi awakening here

• And at least the whole thing is a little more consensual here

• Oh yeah alfred’s bi as hell, he’s singing harmonies with airbear

• But he’s still trying to escape?

• I guess he is a bit confused

• Wait so airbear ended that thinking alfred wanted him? Different but more accurate to the events

• 40 minutes to go

• Mrs krolock is apparently a disguise he uses around sarah too? Ok

• Well the vampires are about to wake so this is where things really should start getting good but I’m sure they won’t

• I don’t like that one of them laughed

• I don’t think they’re even harmonising

• Lazy

• Ah ok here we go harmonies

• These are nice actually

• The lower part is louder than usual, which actually works quite nicely

• The vampires aren’t as jolty and creepy though

• Ew the guitar is bad

• What was that horrible whining between notes

• Oooh this should be sie irren professor

• Oh no, I guess giovanni has decided to bypass the threatening and has gone straight to physical assault

• There’s a prophecy? Alright then. Bit abrupt

• Dammit so they’re going straight into die unstillbare gier without sie irren professor

• Maybe it’s for the best… giovanni was never going to sound that threatening anyway

• Half an hour to go

• I can do this

• Let’s see how he massacres one of the best songs in the musical

• Also he’s starting the song at the front of the stage not the top, and it’s just weird

• When giovanni has been so comedic and dumb the whole time this song just won’t work

• …and the firsg two lines don’t rhyme… great start

• He has a cape though

• Pls I just want 1 cape swish

• Oh but the cape is pathetic

• Oh

• This song could have been good

• But the lyrics aren’t as good in places and he’s still got hints of giovanni’s stupid accent

• What a tragedy

• Well they’re giving a little more detail about his previous victims which is interesting at the very least

• The lyrics don’t have enough syllables

• And ugh they’re not very good either

• There are a few nice ones but most of them…

• I use my body just like a bandage, I use my body just like a wound

• And the prize for worst lyric yet goes to…

• And what makes it worse is that those replaced ich will frei und freier werden und werde meine ketten nicht los

• One of my favourite parts of the song

• And I just want to add that he’s barely moving too

• He doesn’t climb to the top and run down to collapse on the floor

• He just. Stands there.

• Like a badly dressed rock.

• Oh but the stage tilts now to form a straight wall

• So it’s not even like they couldn’t have the stage rise as he runs down

• They just left it raised for him to do nothing on and then got rid of it completely

• They replaced doch die with buuuuuut which does NOT work at all

• You need two syllables to separate the two notes

• This is awful

• They changed the tune a tiny bit which is fine I guess, not as satisfying though

• I just

• *sigh*

• His voice is good. With good lyrics and the original character, he could have done it really well

• I hate that potential was wasted

• Which, again, goes for the whole trainwreck of a musical

• I can’t make out all of the lyrics and I’m not sure if that’s a mild annoyance or a blessing

• Like, i have no idea what he said in the last little bit

• But hey that’s that

Part 3 - The Ball and Beyond

[themegalosaurus]

Summergen Recs 2018

I love to do a long list of Summergen recs so here they are for this year! Reveals are due any day now so hurry to read them while they are still Mysterious and Anonymous. And do check out the full collection at the Summergen website, there were lots of other really good entries (plus my entry, haha) but my list was getting unmanageably long so I had to be very exacting in my choice! Also, please pay attention to the warnings on each fic when you click through, some of them are fairly dark...

ART Summer School  Sam didn't realize his summer breaks weren't like other kids' summers -- not at first. But the older he gets, the more he realizes how different his family is from other kids he meets. - Just a lovely atmospheric vision of a moment in Sam and Dean's adolescence.

[untitled] Jack grew up as the younger brother of Sam and Dean--just a regular kid with profound powers trying to hide from his hunter family that he's the son of Lucifer. - A really clever interpretation of the prompt that raises more questions than it answers!

FIC Black Coffee in Bed, 2900 words, PG-13 Breakdown in Nebraska, and the mornings after. - Beautifully, sparely written insight (via a service-station psychic) into Sam's mindset during that bleak, dark moment mid-season 13.

Chick Lit References, 3200 words, R “This is just typical,” Dean says angrily. “Cas puts us in a yurt, and you won’t let me leave because you think we need this to ‘fix us,’ but here’s the thing, Sam, next time you’re mad at me, maybe you should try this thing called talking instead of going straight to chick lit references that will soar over my head.” - The premise for this feels like it should be cracky, almost - Sam and Dean take some 'me-time' to recover from Michael - but it's much more subtle and emotionally complex than that.

death unhinged its jaw, 4500 words, PG-13 death unhinged its jaw and swallowed them whole, only to spit them back out again after. - I don't want to give away the central conceit of this one and it's not the first I've read to toy with the idea, but it executes it perfectly; dark and understated and (if you think too hard about it) really awfully, hopelessly grim.

Fledgling, 7700 words, PG-13 When four-year-old Emma arrives the Bunker, Sam wonders exactly what it is that Cas brought him — what he made without his soul. - I feel like a lot of fics told with this kidfic premise or in this kind of ethereal tone wouldn't work for me but this one really swings it, somehow. I think partly there's an undercurrent of humour that punctures what in the wrong hands would be - for me - too grandiose. Instead, it's an unexpectedly sweet, magical little story.

Misplaced, 1900 words, PG-13 "Dean facilitated a divine family reunion and God’s sister gifted him John Winchester. The world is upside-down—but they’ve rescued Sam, and doesn’t the world somehow (always) hinge on him?” For the prompt: Season 12 Au where John was brought back to life instead of Mary. - This one Pulls No Punches. It's brutal and is all the better for it!

Mongrels, 4000 words, PG-13 'One time in the first grade, Sam's art teacher had assigned self-portraits--a picture meant to show the world who you really were. In his self-portrait, Sam had given himself approximately 37 heads, and Dean had been sent to the principal's office for shouting "oh FUCK" when he saw it.' Just New Mexico things. S9 post-Gadreel H/C casefic. - Compelling, hallucinogenic, clever casefic told through Dean's eyes during that twisty period of emotional estrangement

Open Sky, 3200 words, PG-13 Magda lives, and ends up spending some time at the bunker. - Lovely fic with Sam and Magda in a sort of Sam-Jack style relationship. Sam does some helping, confronts some truths, MAGDA LIVES, we all know how bitter I am about this ahahahaha

Riptide, 10,000 words, PG-13 Sam just wants to be a normal college student and normal college students go on spring break. Of course, that’s when bodies begin washing up on the beach. - I love me a Stanford casefic and this one is particularly well done. It has a great monster and it gives Sam a really believable set of friends and relationships to work with and around as he tries to solve the problem without letting anyone in on his secret. Really enjoyable.

Saints Preserve Us, 9,600 words, PG-13 - Dean has convinced Sam that Mark of Cain or not, he’s still perfectly capable of a straightforward salt and burn. Hint: he may have exaggerated slightly. Meanwhile, the Fates are locked in a bureaucratic battle with Heaven over the supply of basic utilities and are just generally dysfunctional. These things are not unrelated. - Quirky, well-written casefic with a touch of the Neil Gaimans. (That's a good thing!)

Sicko, 2900 words, PG-13 Now fully human, Jack navigates the realities of both past and present. - I'm a sucker for Jack and Sam fics and this is another really fantastic one with Jack figuring out some pretty heavy stuff now that he is human. Sam in this story is absolutely lovely and Jack is heartbreaking in just the same way as he is sometimes in the show. Really worth reading.

Sleeping with the Fishes, 4400 words, PG-13 Dean won’t rest until Sam sleeps. - This one (with bonus lovely artwork) doesn't try to do anything too fancy but it's a well-written snapshot of every hurt!Sam aficionado's favourite slice of canon (yes I do mean haggard sleepless Hallucifer-Sam) with a Sam and Dean whose voices are absolutely spot-on. 

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This, 5600 words, PG-13 Sam's looking at a large white envelope, with the word Stanford printed on the top. - I don't want to spoil too much of this one - Sam has to tell the family about his Stanford offer. Let's leave it there. 

These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call), 10,000 words, PG-13 Sam Winchester's life has been touched by many things - love, loss, fear, hope, pain, and always, in the background, witchcraft. - Probably my favourite fic of the whole of Summergen this year. Sam as a witch. Lovely shifting POV and it builds to such a fantastic climax. Plus some A+ cameos.

Wintering, 1000 words, G Dean is hurt on his first hunt and lets Sam take care of him. - Poignant little outsider POV fic that offers a perfect glimpse of a particular moment.

Wreckage, 4800 words, PG-13 It’s a slow procession out the front door of the Bunker that first week until it’s just the two of them left. Jack wants to comfort Sam after Michael takes off with Dean but doesn’t know how, and Sam is obsessed with how to get his brother back, no matter what the cost. - I already recced this because it's the fic I prompted, but it's beautifully told and very touching. Well worth a read.

[theliterateape]

How To Hide A Body In Illinois

An excerpt from the newly released novel, “The Lyrebird Threat” by J. L. Thurston

Her body was crumpled in post-mortem yoga. Folded like a greeting card. Her ass stuck straight up in the air and her face was smashed into the white plush carpet.

She was a fresh corpse, still warm and scented with flowery perfume. Doing the downward dog next to the dining room table in the Attorney General of Illinois’ home.

The dead woman was in her mid-sixties but appeared older by the way she dressed and by the gray bun at the top of her head. She had been in excellent health up until the poisoning.

There were no signs of trauma. No blood, no gore to soil the cleanliness of the barely-used home.

Standing over the body was a woman who looked exactly like the Attorney General, Magda Loughty. But she wasn’t. This was a woman of many faces and many voices. A true master of disguise.

She was the Mimic.

Born with a voice that could make any sound, imitate anyone, and with the right connections to special effects makeup artists, the Mimic had everything she needed to overthrow the country’s biggest and darkest secret.

Eagle.

 Her heels clicked on the wood floors on her way to the garage. She refused to break character, even when no one was around. The Mimic wore her face like a mask, maintaining Loughty’s trademark mild disappointment. She had studied her for years. She could perfectly mimic the way Loughty made sure most people avoided speaking to her unless they had to. The way she intimidated all those who had the misfortune to meet her.

If Loughty wasn’t tearing someone’s confidence down, she wasn’t awake.

Inside the three-door garage was the victim’s SUV. Beneath the backseat was a tightly folded black tarp and roll of duct tape, both of which the Mimic removed and carried inside to the body.

She moved as quickly as she could, not caring for the noise she made. Speed outweighed stealth.

The body was heavy despite its slender habitus. It flopped and sagged as the Mimic pushed and rolled it onto the tarp.

Sweat began to form on her brow. It would take buckets of sweat to get the facial prosthetics to come unglued, but she worried about her makeup. Too much sweat and she’d begin to look partially melted.

The body was finally tucked into the tarp, rolled and folded. The duct tape made obscenely loud noises as she ripped off strip after strip.

The Mimic was racing against the clock. Her breathing was ragged, her heart thumping high in her throat. She hadn’t felt this exhilarated in years. She reveled in the quaking sensation in her knees. It was all finally happening.

The Mimic dragged the body through the hall to the garage, where she let it roll roughly down the three cement steps to the cold gray floor. She opened the tailgate to the SUV. The body flopped only slightly in the tight tarp roll-up while the Mimic loaded it in and piled on a blanket. Panting, sweating, she threw herself into the driver’s seat and allowed herself time to reapply powder and crank the air conditioning.

According to the dashboard clock, she had just enough time to dump the body, change disguises, and make it to morning coffee at work before being noticeably late.

While she made her way out of Chicago, her mind replayed the old woman’s death. Her graying face choking on the poison, eyes bulging as her heart and lungs failed her. The imagery would be disturbing if it wasn’t so liberating. Nothing that happened in Loughty’s dining room that morning was undeserved.

The long drive took her passed the suburbs where only farmland and woodland could be seen in all directions. She knew of a perfect little pond deep in a heavily wooded area. It was the final resting place for a few Eagle agents. There was room for one more.

The Mimic parked the SUV on the side of the road near a thin deer trail. She kicked off Loughty’s high heels and laced on some hiking boots. She hoisted the tarped body around her shoulders and stomped off into the woods.

Yellow light filtered through a heavy ceiling of green. White tufts of cottonwood pollen drifted whimsically all around. The humidity was high that day. It caused sweat to sting her eyes and soak her back.

She had to rest often. The facial prosthetics began to slide out of place and wilt, but she did not concern herself with them now that she was out of the city. She was careful not to lose anything, however, as she would have to become Loughty again for another murder. Or a suicide, depending on how one looked at it.

The pond seemingly materialized out of the trees. A forgotten water hole surrounded by a ring of mud and rocks, the water was a dark brown speckled with floating blobs of algae.

Panting, muscles aching, the Mimic chose six large rocks to weigh the tarp down. Once they were secured by duct tape, she dragged the body into the water and began to swim out to the center. The weight of the tarp pulled her under and she struggled to swim to the center of the pond with it.

When the effort was too much, she released her package and scrambled to the surface, gasping and choking on the murk. She had swallowed some of the fishy water and nausea was trying to cramp her gut. She paddled to shore and lay in the mud, staring up at the blue morning sky until she caught her breath.

The ticking clock forced her to press on. Once she reached the SUV, she stripped off her ruined business suit and stuffed them under a bush. Underneath the passenger seat in the SUV was a shirt and sweat pants. She still reeked of fish water, but at least she was in dry clothes.

Smiling placidly to herself, she drove back into the city. To Lyrebird Headquarters.

In the puzzling, tightly-packed buildings that filled Chicago, it was easy to overlook the abandoned places. Factories, warehouses, hotels, apartment buildings. All shut down and boarded up. Left to decay until someone with money tears it down for another parking garage, or mall, or restaurant. The Lyrebirds had many options for their headquarters when they moved to Chicago.

The Mimic pulled into a small underground parking lot. Water pooled on the severely cracked pavement where she parked. The brick building that loomed overhead was once a giant in Chicago, but now was overshadowed by skyscrapers four times its size.

It had originally been a thread factory, then its upper levels were used as apartments, then it was abandoned and condemned and used mostly as a crack house until the Lyrebirds moved in.

She parked the SUV and dodged dark and dirty puddles on her way to the door.

Feeling time wasting away, she hurried through the building that had been her home for the past year. The first two levels were uninhabitable. Old, rusted factory equipment made homes for spiders and rats. A metal staircase took her to the third floor where the building had been renovated in the 1960’s for apartments.

Due to the work of her Lyrebirds, they had a clean living space, some creature comforts, and- most importantly- running water in the four bathrooms. A generator provided electricity, but sparingly.

She showered in the bathroom at the end of the hall, closest to her room. The water was ice cold, but it rejuvenated her. At that point, being clean was all that mattered to her.

The long hallway had peeling wallpaper and faded carpet. The Mimic toweled off, naked as she moved from the bathroom to the dressing room down the hall. She passed no one. Her Lyrebirds were busy, finishing the last steps editing the film. She hoped to be able to look it over tonight, or perhaps tomorrow.

She passed by bedrooms, a locked office, and a conference room. The bedroom doors were open, exposing the cots, sleeping bags, and other belongings that filled the living spaces. It looked like a refuge in a zombie apocalypse flick.

The last room on the right was the dressing room. It was the place where she underwent her transformations, almost as if by magic. Toby Bennett was a special effects makeup artist who was a genius of the highest caliber in his field.

She found him lounging in a chair by the window, reading. He did not blink at her naked form. Her body was not a secret to him. She was a canvas on which his art came to life. At the makeup table, her new set of prosthetics and palettes awaited. Her new identity awaited.

As the hour passed, Toby worked up a sweat while he transformed the Mimic into a completely different person. She ran information over in her head as though memorizing a script. All the people she’d impersonated had been a challenge, but this was the ultimate test. Any mistake would be blaringly obvious. She had to focus, to alter her mind so that it ran parallel with her latest victim’s.

This new disguise would be her ticket to the final moves in her revenge scheme. She was so close to her checkmate and Eagle was still completely unaware of her existence. But that was about to change. She had plenty of mind games in store for Loughty. That bitch would know the Mimic was closing in on her, and she would be helpless in stopping her.

But, best of all, the world would know about Eagle when it was all said and done. The world would hate Eagle, and Eagle would be no more. Soon.

 Now a different person, but still pressed by time, the Mimic drove her SUV back to the Attorney General’s house for a quick errand. She had a delivery to make. A wooden lyrebird, ornate and handcrafted in Australia, found a new home at the front door, facing the sidewalk.

The bird gave her comfort, gave her purpose. But to the Attorney General, the bird would send a message of fear. She will know pain is coming.

Note from the author:

If you enjoyed this excerpt (I certainly hope you have, since I have found you here at the end of it) please locate the novel in its entirety on Amazon.com, and do be so kind as to leave a review and share your thoughts with fellow readers.

[dementia-by-day]

Dementia-Friendly Days Out

A guest post by Ruby Clarkson | Writer, editor, animal lover and coffee enthusiast

Dementia is a challenging group of diseases that causes many different problems, but that doesn’t mean that those who are living with dementia can’t enjoy a lovely day out. In fact, it is good for them to get out and see different things – any kind of stimulation for the brain can help them to feel more like their old selves, even if the feeling is not a permanent one. 

And for those caring for friends or relatives who have dementia, it can be difficult to decide where to go and what to do. A day out is good, but where is safe and secure? Where will make the person happy? Where will cause more upset? It can often cause stress and anxiety for the carer, and in the end the idea of a day out can be mooted, which is a shame. 

I reached out to Dorothy, an individual that has her dementia care provided by Helping Hands in order to obtain an insight into how a day out can be friendly. Dorothy stated that  “There really is no place like home, and with Magda’s support I am able to keep in touch with all of my friends and neighbours. We visit church every week for the Sunday morning service, I can visit the shops and I also take part in a local knitting group. This really is one of the greatest joys of staying in my own home around people I know.”

With Dorothy’s case in mind, here are some places to go and things to see that are particularly dementia friendly. You’ll see the difference immediately, and hopefully make your loved one happy for a while.

A Trip To The Past 

What many people find with those with dementia is that although their short term memory is not good – perhaps it doesn’t even exist – their long term memory is almost entirely intact. Therefore, a day trip that offers a glimpse into their past will be ideal, and help them to feel at ease. 

Think about places they used to go to as children, for example. It might be that a day at the seaside is perfect, complete with deckchairs, ice creams, and even donkey rides. Let them enjoy the sun and build sandcastles and feel the wind in their hair. Or perhaps a museum with plenty of exhibits that link back to when they were younger. They will happily be able to talk about what they see and enjoy the day immensely. 

Relaxation 

It can be tempting to try to do as much as possible when you go for a day out, to make the most of the time you have together. Yet this isn’t always a good idea, especially for someone with dementia who can be easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation. 

It might be better to enjoy a nice, relaxing day together instead. It could start with a trip to the hairdressers or barbers, and then you could have a spot of afternoon tea together (this links in with the memory trips as mentioned above). Afterwards, you could go to a library or go to a spa for a swim and some treatments. 

Fresh Air 

Outdoor pursuits are always a good idea. People with dementia can often feel cooped up and anxious when they are indoors, and as well as that, fresh air is good for you. So it makes sense to get outside and enjoy what nature has to offer. Not only is it a healthy option, but it is relaxing too. 

The local park is always a good place to take someone for a day out, no matter what their age or what their condition might be. Arrange a picnic with their favourite foods and feed the ducks if there are any there. Take a stroll, notice the clouds and the trees, enjoy every moment. It is these simple pleasures that really make a difference. 

A Sing-along 

Although a lot of the memory of a person living with dementia will be affected, there is something about song lyrics that seems to linger, and it is for this reason that a good old sing-along might be exactly what the patient needs to enjoy their day and feel better. You can do this in your own home if you like, simply downloading songs from the past to listen to and song along with. Alternatively, you can find a concert venue that is offering this kind of music too. 

The Cinema 

If you take a look at the film listings for your local cinema you might be able to spot some special screenings that are labelled as ‘dementia friendly’. If there aren’t any, you might need to search for a larger venue, but these films do exist. The lighting is brighter, there are no trailers or ads before the film starts, and the environment is relaxed and friendly. 

[writeanapocalae]

Westbrooke 1

I’m not doing so hot on the writing these days guys, like this took me 3 hours to write when it would normally take 1 and it’s not something I’m remotely happy with. I just took a week long break from writing too, in which I itched to write the entire time. Feedback, or just the knowledge that this is being read, would be greatly appreciated. 

Pen snatched up the remote and turned up the television, pretending that the walls of her apartment were thick enough to protect her from a noise complaint. Her phone was silent but it was still on vibrate and, while she was doing her best to ignore it she still didn’t want to turn it off. She knew it was Carson, calling her for the third time in this last episode to cry to her about Magda. It was always Carson these days, multiple times a day, and, she loved him, but she really wished he would quit it.

He was the one that did the breaking up and they’d only been together for four months. She was tired of holding his hand through every break up. She was certain that her shoulder was pruning up from how long he’d been crying on it.

Every ring was louder than the last, the phone buzzing and spiraling on her coffee table. They’d been best friends since college, they were the ones who stood up for one another, he was was the only one who could call her Penumbra. She needed a break but each call was more urgent than the last. Her show wasn’t doing enough to distract her.

“Car, it’s almost one in the morning, can’t-

“Oh thank god! Oh shit!” he interrupted, the panic in his voice obvious, his breathing close to hyperventilating. She stilled, muting the tv as she sat up straighter. There was static on the line, but not the kind that came from bad reception, the kind that came from the radio. “The old Westbrooke Mall! I need you here! Please!”

“What, the old abandoned mall? What are you doing there?”

“Fuck!” The static was getting stronger. She thought she heard a woman’s voice mixed in there, swirling through the white noise. “No time! Just. Get here, Pen, Please!”

She had more questions, she had to know where in the mall, what he was doing there, what was going on. She had to pull her phone away from her ear though, the static getting so loud. She thought that she could understand what the woman was saying but it wasn’t a song, it wasn’t real words, it was more of a coughing, sputtering sound. If she had to describe it she would go with definitely not human.

“Shit,” Carson whispered, the pitch of his voice rising. “shit, shit, shit, she found me! Please, Pen, you have to-

The phone went dead.

She stared at it for a moment, considering calling him back, but no, he sounded terrified. He sounded like he was in danger. If she called him back that would give away his location, she would make it worse.

She threw on some clothes and her clunky old sneakers and a jacket, almost calling the police before shoving her phone into her pocket and dashing down the stairs to her car. There had to be a reason that he’d called her instead of the police. It wasn’t like he was supposed to be at the mall anyway.

She hadn’t been to the Westbrooke Mall since she was a child and she’d only gone there rarely. A fire had taken over the building before she’d even become a preteen and it had never been rebuilt. She had never heard what the cause was. She was sure that there was an investigation still going. She’d never really cared about why it had burned or why it hadn’t reopened. Now though, as she sped through the quiet streets, going just slow enough as to not draw attention to herself, she had to wonder about it.

It wasn’t just whatever Carson was so afraid of in there, it was the infrastructure that she had to consider, the fire damage, the squatters. She didn’t know what could have drawn him there at this time of night, but there were a dozen dangers that she could think up.

She hadn’t forgotten the way though.

The parking lot was still in use and there were a few dozen cars scattered around, the owners either vagrants or bus commuters. She could see a few people sleeping in their cars but most of them were empty. It didn’t matter. None of them were going to stop her. She parked as close to the entrance as she could before grabbing the industrial flashlight from under the passenger seat and dashing out, running towards the building.

There was a white notice sign and police tape and boards in place over the door, but they had all been torn halfway free, so teens and the less favorable could sneak in over time. The exterior still looked like a normal building, plagued with mildew and rats but nothing too terrible, just the effects of time. That didn’t stop it from smelling though, and when she pulled the door open the odor washed over her. It was more than just the smell of fire, of charcoal, that scent buried under a more sour smell, like curdles milk or rancid butter or parmesian cheese. She almost gagged on it, the sensation making her hesitate.

She couldn’t hesitate. She had to find Carson.

She turned on her flashlight. There would be no electricity in there, not unless some teen had bought a generator for some partying, but Pen couldn’t imagine anyone staying there of their own volition for very long, not with the smell. She pulled out her phone. It had taken her a whole ten minutes to get there. She hoped that Carson was still alright.

She called him. The screen didn’t light up all the way and, when it rang the numbers shifted, switched and flickered to other numbers and symbols. She caught a few dollar signs and it kept flickering even as the dial tone ended and a long groan crackled through the static on the line.

“Carson?” she pulled the phone to her ear, “Where are you? I’m at the mall but this place is huge! I need more directions!”

The groan was just a long note, reverberating. She heard a sound that must have been a laugh but it was crooked, all wrong, and there was no mirth in it. It wasn’t Carson’s voice. It was closer to that woman’s voice, that terrible, not human quality to it.

“Do you have Carson?” she asked, feeling her lip quiver, feel it in her hands. “Can you tell me where he is? What you want?”

There was a chance that this was some elaborate prank, but at this point she didn’t care. She would take the humiliation of being duped like this. There was a chance that it was something serious too and she could have kicked herself for not having brought a weapon. All she had was the flashlight, which she was sure could be used as a bludgeon, but then she’d be left with only her phone for light.

“Carson?” the woman mocked and it was close to Pen’s voice, closer than before and it felt nearby too, terrifyingly so. “Carson? What do you want Carson?”

She could hear him, sniffling in the background. She hadn’t heard him cry like this before. She thought that the breakup with Magda was bad but this was a different kind of crying. This was pain and terror. This wasn’t something Pen ever wanted to hear come from him.

“Please,” she could hear him try to speak through the cracking of his voice. “Please. I want. To go home. Please.”

“What did you do to him?” Pen practically screamed over the line and she could hear it echo down the hall, hear something else sniffing in response.

“Do to him?” The woman laughed in her voice but it was just as dead a sound as before. “Do to Carson? What you want?”

Pen started down the corridor. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation. She didn’t remember what any of the stores used to be, she didn’t remember where anything had been. There were a few benches, here and there, and there were store fronts, but the glass had all broken from the displays and everything that she turned her light over was just black and burned, having lost most of its shape.

She could still hear that sniffing, like a large dog sniffing. She could still hear that static over the phone.

“Carson, I need to know where you are. Can you hear me?”

“Where you are. Carson. Where you are. Can you? Can you want?”

“Food court!” it hardly came out as a whisper but it was enough, it was a direction. Pen wasn’t sure which direction but there was a fifty percent chance that she would be correct with her guess. She went down to the right, running through the darkness. She kept the phone to her ear. “Hold on, I’m on my way. I’m coming for you Carson!”

“Coming for you? Coming?” the woman laughed again. “What you do to him, what you want to do to him. Hear! Hear!”

The phone went dead after that but she kept running, even as the sniffing ended and the barking began.

@sebcastellanyes let me know if you want on or off of my tag list. 

[julia-sets]

Summergen 2018 Recs

Okay, so this is a loooong post because Summergen was so amazing that my recommendation could just be the masterlist. But maybe some people wanted some actual pointers, so these are my faves from this summer. There are a lot and honestly I probably missed a few (it’s hard to remember with so many great fics!)

The Room Upstairs Summary: Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him. A heart-wrenching look at a Sam who comes back really, truly broken.

Chick Lit References Summary: “This is just typical,” Dean says angrily. “Cas puts us in a yurt, and you won’t let me leave because you think we need this to ‘fix us,’ but here’s the thing, Sam, next time you’re mad at me, maybe you should try this thing called talking instead of going straight to chick lit references that will soar over my head.” Sam and Dean working through things post-Michael in a story that’s alternately hilarious and sad and touching. The author does a good job of capturing how the boys often talk past each other, but at the end finally reach some common ground. Sleeping With the Fishes Summary: Dean won’t rest until Sam sleeps. Season 7-era fics are rare in fandom and this one makes me wish that wasn’t true. It captures so much of what I liked about that season. Sam is not sleeping and struggling. Dean is generally broken but trying. 

Death Unhinged Its Jaw Summary: death unhinged its jaw and swallowed them whole, only to spit them back out again after. This was the fic that was written for me and hooooooly crap did it deliver. I don’t want to say too much, for fear of spoiling it. Please read this. Saving Him from Hell Summary: Dean was stone number one Another bit of canon that’s under-developed: Sam in between seasons 7 and 8. This fic is a look at his devastation and all the messy complexity of the brothers’ relationship. It’s an Experience Summary: Claire is working through some feelings about the death of a certain angel. When Jack tries to help, they both realize something new. The author captures both Claire and Jack’s voices so very well and their bonding is incredibly sweet. Sadly probably won’t get as much attention because it doesn’t focus on the boys, but it deserves more love. Sweet Dreams are Made of This Summary: Pre-series fic dealing with Sam going to Stanford. Another one I don't exactly want to spoil. Another awesome look at some pre-series time. I could see this slotting into canon perfectly. Freeport, Illinois Summary: June, 1998. John has left Sam and Dean in a small Illinois town while he is working. Two teenage boys, not much money, and time to kill…  Perfectly characterized pre-series fic that looks at the boys’ hardships but doesn’t get maudlin about it.

Black Coffee in Bed Summary: Breakdown in Nebraska, and the mornings after. I’m a sucker for anything about the episode Breakdown, which I loved. This one is gorgeously atmospheric.

Open Sky Summary: Magda lives, and ends up spending some time at the bunker. Magda lives! This is a very sweet story written in Magda’s POV that uses her staying with them to explore some of Sam’s issues.

Fledgling Summary: When four-year-old Emma arrives the Bunker, Sam wonders exactly what it is that Cas brought him—what he made without his soul. This is written like a bit of a fairytale. Kidfic is normally not my thing but I really appreciated Emma, especially as Sam learns how to care for her and then learns where she came from.

 Wintering Summary: Dean is hurt on his first hunt and lets Sam take care of him. Short and sweet bit with pre-series Winchesters.

Sicko Summary: Now fully human, Jack navigates the realities of both past and present. Wonderfully explores Jack adjusting to being human, learning more about Lucifer and Sam.

scenes from a highway at the edge of night  Summary: Birthdays are also anniversaries. Don’t want to spoil anything, but ranges from sad to bittersweet.

pain is a well-intentioned weatherman  Summary: When Dean gets home from apocalypse world, Sam is on traumatic brain injury protocol. He was fine when Dean left. He was fine. How many Sam Has a Head Injury fics will I read? Answer: all of them.

Misplaced Summary: Dean facilitated a divine family reunion and God’s sister gifted him John Winchester. The world is upside-down—but they’ve rescued Sam, and doesn’t the world somehow (always) hinge on him? For the prompt: Season 12 Au where John was brought back to life instead of Mary. For a short piece this one hits hard, hinting at all the very messy ways that John’s return would be difficult.

These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call) Summary: Sam Winchester's life has been touched by many things - love, loss, fear, hope, pain, and always, in the background, witchcraft. Holy shit it’s witch!Sam! I love witch!Sam. I especially love this witch!Sam, which reimagines the entire show a little bit and works so well and is so touching and sweet and sad.

At first I was afraid Summary: Three months after Michael leaves Dean's body, Sam wants to take on a case. Woah. This fic is amazing. It takes place in a soon-to-be-AU Season 14 and explores some of the lasting consequences of Michael but also how they fit into some of the show’s ongoing, unexplored Issues. And have I mentioned that it’s fantastically written and in character?

Wreckage Summary: It’s a slow procession out the front door of the Bunker that first week until it’s just the two of them left. Jack wants to comfort Sam after Michael takes off with Dean but doesn’t know how, and Sam is obsessed with how to get his brother back, no matter what the cost. I’m a sucker for more Sam and Jack content. This one is incredibly sweet and ends with another thing I love, which I won’t spoil.

[statticscribbles]

BD: Mother’s Day

Summary: Cherik helps Peter make mother’s day presents

“Peter really it’s alright you don’t need to do anything if you don’t want…” Charles and Erik assure him and Peter looks mildly offended.

“She’s my mom.”

“Yes but..” Erik doesn’t say it, but Peter understands when he looks to his broken arm.

“She won’t; it’ll be fine…” He shrugs off his father’s concern, his latest training session had gone a little badly; he had been a little late in timing and when Logan had thrown the portion of the wall that Hank had ripped through Peter hadn’t moved in time. Well he had, he’d gotten Raven out of the way but himself was another matter.

“We can help if you..”

“NO! Uhh, No thank you. I want to do it myself.” His face is pink at his own outburst and Erik nods, simply leaving the card making supplies on the table.

“I know it’s a tradition but I think Madga will understand…”

“Let him try Charles, it’s tradition for him to make her at least the card on his own. We can help him with the gift then…” Charles seems pleased but laughs a little, no doubt having seen whatever Peter is endeavouring to give his mother for mother’s day.

Peter emerges later that day, card addressed, his writing only slightly slanted, but the way he hovers after dinner lets Erik know he needs his help.

“Yes?”

“You remember the photo album you helped me design?”

“Mhmm, do you want another one? I didn’t realize we had that many photos of your mother…”

“No, just, something similar, if you’re available.”

“I’m always here to help you Peter.”

“Even if I’m going to boss you around?”

“Especially then.” Erik laughs as Peter pulls out the picture, and the base frame.

Peter wakes up frantic in the middle of the night stumbling into their room in a way he hadn’t since he was little.

“Peter?” Erik grumbles and Charles is asleep, despite his gift he’d always been a heavy sleeper.

“I forgot to make one for Raven!” He sounds terrified, Erik sighs relieved they’re not having a repeat of the time he got a stomach bug, and he slides out of bed deliberately trying to wake Charles. It doesn’t work and  he brings Peter down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and some food while he decides to help him with whatever last minute gift he’s decided Raven will appreciate.

“You’re almost eighteen you know; you don’t need to do this every year..”

“I didn’t, not for Raven; I haven’t done it in a while; but ever since Kurt showed up she keeps looking at him weird.”

”Weird?”

“Like how Hank looks at you and Dad, like he’s miss- no like he’s lacking something, like whatever is happening in front; anyways; I wanted to do something nice for her; like I used too..” He shrugs a little and Erik nods, surprised that Peter hadn’t caught on exactly who Kurt was. He’s confused at Peter’s request, it seems so simple, everything needed is nestled in the lab and the actual gift comes together in a few moments. Peter thanks him and Erik want’s to ask more before he can, Peter pulls him into a hug.

“I know it sounds silly, but she never wears anything in all her forms, each time she changes there’s nothing of who she was.” Erik nods still interested to see how Peter will explain it to her.

Magda spotted them when Peter had come in trying to hide the cast his arm was in. She’d teared up a little which had worried Peter more than Madga herself had been worried.

“I don’t see how it’s necessary.” Magda doesn’t bother hiding her smile.

“Well he would have tried to make one without our help; and I can imagine the rest of the house would have made a production out of it. I would rather not have my carpets covered in glitter. Again.”

Magda still has tears at the edges of her eyes from the card and Peter’s hug. She doesn’t say anything about how excitedly he’d screamed Mama before looking around the cafe embarrassed. A few people were smiling at all of them as they sat and ordered lunch.

“And your present!” He reminds her when they’ve finished lunch. Madge grins opening the box he’d pushed across the table, careful to avoid the plates that had yet to be cleared.

Madga’s staring at the picture; she knows it’s one Charles had captured. Her and Peter laughing, their faces locked in the same expression, Erik looking awkwardly at both of them, pie dripping off his face. Peter hadn’t stopped smiling for the rest of the day, Magda knows, much to their annoyance she’d cemented April fool’s day as the best day in history in Peter’s mind. The framework is Erik’s doing, but the design looks like something Peter and her were talking about the last time they had lunch together. It’s a soft shimmering metal, Madga can tell that much, having been with Erik means a basic level of metal types. The knotwork and winding spirals look even better than what she was trying to describe to Peter, the intricate braids and stitchwork from her grandparent’s blanket. She’d shown him the blanket in pictures; she didn’t have it with her; it had been lost when she left. Peter repeatedly asks her where it was lost. She doesn’t tell him, she can’t, not yet he’s too young and it’s too fresh for her; so she assures him she just left it in her attic.

Magda finds the blanket with a letter a week later. It’s Peter’s scrawl and assurance that he’d found a friend in high places that could take him to where Charles told him never to go. Magda meets Kurt Wagner two days later and he’s grinning looking sheepishly at the blanket and the floor instead of her eyes. He apologizes but that it meant so much to Peter he thought it would be okay, he offers to take it back to the building he found it in but she just asks to go in its place. She prays in her family’s home for the first time in years.

Raven doesn’t say anything when Hank hands her the card; she turns it in her hands. She recognises Charles’ writing but there’s no need to send her a letter when he’s a telepath and they’re in the same house. She opens it, and Charles can’t help but smile at the warmth and happiness that’re pouring out from her in waves. Peter’s grinning from where he’s hidden behind the couch, waiting to surprise her with the actual gift.

He frowns a little, he wasn’t expecting his aunt to cry at just the card and he’s worried the present will be too much. He hesitates but steps forward grinning when he runs to her and she pulls him into a hug.

“That was so kind Peter and- What’s this?”

“A present! Papa said if I gave Mama one I’d need to give you one too!” Raven nods glancing back to make sure the card, the drawing of her and Peter is still there. She’s curious now and when he offers the bag towards her she carefully sits down with it, to unfold the tissue paper.

A thin black ring is nestled under the mountain of tissue paper and she recognises it’s like the one Peter wears on his thumb.

“It’s a mood ring! It changes colours with how you feel! Kinda like how you can change!”

“Oh, it’s very pretty, thank you.” She slides it on over one of her fingers.

Peter watches her after missions, whenever she’s not in her natural form, he looks for it. The mood ring usually doesn’t fluctuate from the blue green of content. She notices sometimes it will change when she’s around Hank but he’d explained it as a temperature change, not an actual mood sensing device.

Peter thinks he caught her, she’s in her preferred human form, the blonde one; she’d been grocery shopping and Peter watches as she drops the form, his eyes focused on the scales changing on her hand, watching as they flicker under the ring, like always. He’s yet to catch her taking it off or faking wearing it.

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[ramajmedia]

Sex And The City: 10 Miranda Hobbes Quotes That Are Still Hilarious Today

As a comedy, Sex and the City doesn't get the credit it deserves. Though very much a product of its time, its sense of humor was at the very least progressive. Brusque, candid, and sardonic, the show made even the most hardened viewers laugh. Every one of the four main characters had their own unique sense of humor. Carrie loved her comical observations and puns; Samantha was blunt; Charlotte made everyone laugh with her clueless WASPiness. Then there's Miranda, the red-headed embodiment of self-deprecating wit. Check out these reminders of how funny (and insightful) Miranda can be.

RELATED: 5 Reasons Sex and the City Has Aged Poorly (& 5 It’s Timeless)

10 "The least he could do is wait to get to know me before he rejects me."

In Season 3's "Frenemies," Miranda calls Carrie after her date stands her up. She's audibly upset, "eating out of plastic." Like so many of us, Miranda has a tendency to put herself down before anyone else can. And now she's doubting her own dating instincts. Later, Miranda learns her date didn't stand her up —  he died. At the funeral, Miranda ends up finding herself another date. Not the best timing or remotely appropriate, but you only live once, right? The guy turns out to be Carrie's ex, someone whom she claims to be a total. Miranda learns the hard way that Carrie's right.

9 "Your good friend, Miranda Hobbes, has just taken a piece of cake out of the garbage and eaten it."

Miranda is abstaining from sex. And she needs something to distract her in the meantime. So, in Season 4's "What's Sex Got to Do With It?," Miranda eats her feelings. Specifically, chocolate becomes her substitute for sex. Her emotional crutch is a problem, though, when she realizes she can't stop thinking about sex...or chocolate. When she actually eats some cake she's thrown away, Miranda has a rude awakening about her situation. Her confession on Carrie's answering machine is the kind of self-awareness we all strive for.

8 "I'm a 34-year-old woman with braces, and I'm on a liquid diet. Pain doesn't begin to cover it."

Miranda has been having headaches so severe she needs to see a doctor. To her surprise, the problem stems from her teeth. Apparently, she's a "tongue thruster" who must now wear braces for a year. That is until she can't bear the embarrassment any longer. After a humiliating moment at her job in Season 3's "Hot Child in the City," she has the braces removed. Miranda always makes a pointed joke at her own expense when life doesn't go her way. And while some adults are totally comfortable wearing braces, Miranda Hobbes is not one of them.

RELATED: Sex and the City: 5 Best & 5 Worst Relationships, Ranked

7 "That better be brand new."

Miranda was the first one in the group to have a kid. In Season 5's "Critical Condition," she's struggling to take care of her newborn Brady, and it shows in a frank conversation with the others. Charlotte and Carrie are supportive, but Samantha is not following suit — at all. To make things up to Miranda, Samantha offers her services and time. As Miranda takes her hair appointment, Samantha watches over Brady. The vibrating chair that calms Brady, however, breaks just as Miranda leaves. Samantha remedies the situation by using her "personal massager" to soothe Brady. Miranda's response to Samantha's resourcefulness is priceless.

6 "We're just choosy."

In Season 2's "The Freak Show,". Samantha's bad date invites one of Miranda's scathing critiques of the opposite sex. She points out there has to be something wrong with a man if he's both single and over thirty, to which Carrie asks about single women in their thirties — namely them. Miranda simply answers, "We're just choosy." This is Miranda's way of trying to understand the dynamics between men and women, and how to survive without harm in the confusing dating world.

5 "I can't have sex with a sandwich...can I?"

Miranda always asks the burning question on everyone's minds. No, but really, in Season 3's "Running with Scissors," Miranda becomes obsessed with a guy who wears a goofy sandwich costume as part of his job. With his costume providing anonymity, the guy "propositions" Miranda with a culinary, risqué double entendre. Miranda is at first offended by the sandwich harasser ⁠— then smitten. To say Miranda is having a rough patch is an understatement. She finally gives in and asks the sandwich guy to show her his face. He ends up being pretty cute, but the fantasy is over. She walks away smiling.

RELATED: 10 Sex & The City Storylines That Were Never Resolved

4 "Who is this, and what is she doing in my bedroom?"

In Season 3's "Attack of the 5'10" Woman," Miranda's devout housekeeper Magda takes it upon herself to replace her client's vibrator with a statue of the Virgin Mary. Magda believe that no man will want to marry Miranda if he sees she has a sex toy; he would think she doesn't need him. Miranda is irritated by Magda's prying, and she confronts her like only she can ("I drink coffee, and have sex, and buy pies, and enjoy battery-operated devices"). It may seem like she's overreacting, but Miranda is constantly judged for being single at her age. Let Miranda live, Magda.

3 "I'm on Valium; everything's okay."

When Miranda has her eyes operated on iin Season 3's "Where There's Smoke..," she needs someone to help her get home. Steve personally offers his help; Miranda says she'll ask Carrie. This understandably throws Steve for a loop. Later, Carrie sends Steve in her place. Miranda is reluctant to accept his help, but she's also high on Valium. Her refusal to let a man "rescue" her is challenged by Steve's earnest brand of kindness. Especially when Miranda's not always the nicest person to him. Nevertheless, Miranda wakes up the next morning with Steve lying next to her, seeing things clearly for the first time.

RELATED: Sex And The City: 6 Ways Big Was The Best (& 4 He Was The Worst)

2 "We didn't work out; you need to not exist."

Things come to a head for Carrie in Season 2's finale, "Ex and the City." She has a "Big" decision to make. Of course Miranda shares her own refreshing take on how she handles breakups realistically versus ideally. Her straightforward insight isn't easy to hear — especially for Carrie — and it may even make viewers feel sorry for Miranda. But rather than pity her, they should be proud. Miranda's statement is empowering. Not because she's acting like she's above graciously parting ways. No, she's being honest about how she can't break up without resentment. Miranda's humor is her greatest truth.

1 "He was looking into my eyes, I was looking for the remote."

In the final season's "Catch-38," Miranda is no longer single. And after holding out on marrying Steve, they finally tie the knot. Miranda sounds so relieved to hear from Carrie during her honeymoon, claiming she can't be sarcastic on a romantic getaway. For years, sarcasm was Miranda's defense mechanism. She needed it to keep her stable, and to help her stay emotionally safe when the world was unfair. It might seem like something she would give up now that she has a child and she's married, but Miranda isn't going to ever stop being funny. At first, it's how she survived. Now, it's just who she is.

NEXT: Sex And The City: 10 Quotes About Dating That Are Still Relevant Today

source https://screenrant.com/sex-and-the-city-miranda-hobbes-quotes-funniest-quotes/

[leeholtwrites]

Magical Girl Reunion Tour

Here is the first chapter of my adult magical girl book. I wrote it in 30 minutes and it has not been edited. It has many errors. Please enjoy and let me know if I should post more, or just keep this junk to myself.

I give you - MAGDA

Magda drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of her car. She hated traffic. Always had. The only thing that would make traffic better would be resounding political support of public transportation. Like that was ever going to happen.

She picked up her coffee cup and brought it to her lips. A measly stream of coffee trickled between her lips. Of course it was empty, not that she had any business sipping non-iced coffee on a sweltering day. She sighed and placed the cardboard cup back in it's holder. She knew she should have gone reusables years ago, but she loved the feel of the paper under her fingertips. It seemed a strange thing to admit. She'd come to terms with that little idiosyncrasy of hers recently. So paper cups it was.

In her passenger seat lay a 40 ounce water thermos. It was the only way she could think about it, especially when it clanged against something with a bong. She groped for it with one hand while she kept the other on the wheel. Driving home on the I-15 was always a nightmare at this time of day, and she was loathe to smash into someone. She snatched the rolling bottle with a thrill of triumph, slipping it in-between her thighs so she could unscrew the cap. Having her pencil skirt hiked up so high might have felt indecent if she wasn't alone. Although she couldn't imagine any man would find her attractive in a sweaty rumpled suit, her careful image melting away in the late afternoon Las Vegas summer.

It was always like this after work, her three piece suit too heavy for her Camry's antiquated air conditioner. Even after stripping off the jacket and vest more appropriate for a casino's industrial air conditioning, her shirt would still stick her back and her foundation would start to crease as she zipped along the freeways to her apartment in the quiet northwest side of town. Going home always sounded like something that should make her happy. Instead, she couldn't wait to go back to work.

With her business degree, Magda always thought she'd work in some corporate office or start her own business. Then she discovered the hospitality industry in college. Starting out as a receptionist at a major resort on the Strip, she slowly worked her way towards Concierge. Making hotel guests happy brought a sense of fulfillment to her life that she'd been lacking since her teen years. The smiles on their faces as she recounted wonderful shows and good food. The way they lit up when she got them the reservations or tickets they requested. The special events she helped plan. Who would have thought the cheerleader with good grades would end up smiling with a name tag on and love it?

After a battle with two different free ways and several potential fender-benders, Magda arrived home with a bag of Hawaiian food hanging from her wrist. When she first moved to Vegas, she never thought she would encounter the sheer amount of Asian eateries of every kind the city had to offer. Every strip mall seemed to have an Asian restaurant and a storefront church. Every time she thought about moving, he knew she would miss her job and the strange little things that Vegas had to offer. It had gotten under her skin and wasn't going anywhere.

She threw everything in her arms, including the food, down on the coffee table before heading to her bedroom to change. As she did every night, she paused in the hallway to look at the faded photographs hung on the wall. Five girls smiled out at her doing the various activities high school girls did in the 90s. Most days the pictures only evoked a smirk of nostalgia from her, but some days, like today, they brought a small pang to her chest. Magda knew she should reach out to her old friends. They went through a lot together.

And she had just abandoned them.

She reached out to touch one of the pictures, her fingers running over the face of a smiling blond girl. God, why did she ever bleach and dye her hair like that? Because she wanted to be blond once upon a time ago.

In her bathroom, she pulled out her pins and ran a brush through her thick chestnut hair. She was very proud of her hair now, how rich and dark it was. It was the kind of hair a fifteen year old didn't know how to appreciate. She splashed some water on her face and put on ratty sweat pants and a clean t-shirt. Immediately, she felt a little better. Then she looked at the pile of clothes that needed to go to the drycleaner. She no longer felt a little better.

Grumbling, she picked up a pill bottle off the counter and dumped a generic green pill into her hand. Sertraline. She'd been taking it for depression for so long she'd almost lost count of the years. She still had the nightmares, but all the bad was so much easier to manage medicated.

Magda padded down the hall, ready to fill her stomach with barbeque chicken and warm macaroni salad. She stopped, her eyes wide. Standing on her coffee table was a white mechanical animal the size of a Maine coon cat.  Soft green light leaked from it's seams and from inside it's large ears. Liquid eyes the shade of well kept grass stared at her. It twitched it's tail.

"Viridian?" she breathed.

"Maggie. I call upon you again. Your skill are needed."

She stared at him in shock as she registered what the inter-dimensional magical robot animal said. Then she picked up a pillow off her couch and threw it at him, screaming, "Get the fuck out of my house!"