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shadowhuntertrash · 3 years

Text

High Notes

Chapter Three

Characters belong to Cassandra Clare

Thomas stood next to James staring at the tour bus. It was huge. It wasn’t like normal tour buses since there were so many of us. There weren’t bunk beds like Thomas had suspected, no there were literal rooms. There were two rooms with beds in them and Thomas was freaking out. This was so cool!

There were three buses, one for the Merry Thieves, one for Beautiful Cordelia, and the other for Alastair. Each had their respective names on one side of the bus and pictures of them on the other. There were two rooms on each bus so Cordelia, Lucie, and Alastair got their own room.

It was decided that, since Matthew and James were dating, they would share a room, and Christopher and Thomas were sharing a room. Matthew and Christopher were already inside looking around but Thomas was still standing looking at the bus because this, this was real. He was so scared and nervous and excited. He didn’t want to get on the bus yet because that made it real and was he ready for that?

James seemed to be having the same thoughts but was ripped from his thoughts by Matthew dragging him excitedly up the bus stairs to show him around. Thomas wanted to move but it was like his feet were bolted to the ground.

He stood there for at least five more minutes until a voice caught his attention. “You alright there Lightwood? You look a little sick.” Thomas turns to see Alastair, his dyed blonde hair catching the light. He had always thought Alastair looked better with his naturally dark hair but who was he to judge?

Thomas gave him a tightlipped smile and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little, anxious, I guess?” Alastair gave him a knowing look and walked close so they were standing side by side. “I know it looks a little daunting,” Alastair says looking at the tour bus. “But don’t let it get to you. You’ll have fun I promise. Plus everyone gets close on tour like it or not so you’ll always have all of us if you need it.” Alastair says shrugging as if that sentence hadn’t just rocked Thomas’s world.

Of course, his friends would be there for him but did Alastair just say he would too? Not that Thomas would ever go to him if something was wrong. He hated bothering people. Thomas flashed him a reserved smile and thanked him.

Alastair looked at Thomas as if he was expecting something. When Thomas looked at him confused Alastair just huffed and grabbed Thomas’s wrist, pulling him up the bus, not unlike how Matthew had pulled James earlier. Thomas’s stomach started doing a weird fluttery thing and his wrist felt like it was burning. Was it hot? It definitely got hot.

When they got inside they saw James and Matthew laughing on one of the couches. When Matthew turned to look at them and saw Alastair’s hand on Thomas’ wrist his eyebrows shot up and he gave Thomas a questioning look. Alastair let go quickly.

“Glad to see you finally joined us, Thomas. Though it looks like you needed some help.” Thomas laughed stiffly and walked over, hitting Matthew on the back of the head before heading towards the rooms. He saw Christopher laid out on one of the beds and immediately regretted sharing a room with him.

How could Thomas have forgotten that Christopher one, took up the entire bed, two, was a blanket hot, and three, snored like there was no tomorrow. Thomas groaned loudly and threw his suitcase on the bed, careful not to hit Christopher, before walking back to the living room area of the bus.

Matthew and James were smirking at him and Thomas glared at them while Alastair stood by the table looking rather confused. “Y’all set me up!” Thomas says indignantly. James rolled his eyes and Matthew smiled at him innocently. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Tom.” Thomas groaned loudly and flopped on the couch flipping Matthew off.

Alastair looked at Thomas curiously, “Is everything alright Lightwood?” Thomas huffed again before turning to Alastair. “Matthew and James are sharing a room cause they’re a thing and so Christopher and I are sharing a room and it didn’t occur to me that he takes the entire bed, snores, and steals the covers.” Thomas all but whines. Alastair looked at him amused.

“You do know I have two rooms on my bus right? You could just sleep in my bus I won’t bite.” Thomas felt his face burning and Matthew laughed behind him. “There you go Tom no need to fret, your knight in shining armor will come to your rescue.” Thomas glared as Alastair laughed and James hit Matthew on the back of the head.

Matthew frowned and swatted James's hand away moving so he could put his head in James’ lap. James immediately began running his fingers through Matthew’s hair. Thomas smiled at them, they were literally so cute. Thomas wanted that.

He turned to Alastair and looked at him warily. “Are you sure you don’t mind? It’s not that big a deal I’m just complaining.” Alastair laughed and shook his head. “No, it’s fine I promise. It’ll get lonely by myself after a while anyway.” Thomas smiled at him. “Thank you so much you’re a lifesaver!” Thomas said getting up and picking his suitcase up off the bed in Christopher’s room before walking back out and following Alastair back to his bus.

“Hey, thanks again.” Thomas said walking up the stairs of Alastair’s bus. “Lightwood seriously, it's fine, stop thanking me.” Thomas clenched his jaw and nodded walking into the empty room. He fell back onto his bed and watched as Alastair threw him a smirk. Thomas was about to say something when their phones went off simultaneously.

They both picked up, Thomas smiled when he heard Barbara’s enthusiastic voice on the other side. “Thomas you won’t believe what just happened!” She all but screamed in his ear. Thomas quickly pulled it away from his ear before she ruptured his eardrum. “Jesus Barbara don’t make me go deaf. I rather enjoy my hearing ability.” Barbara laughed and sniffed. Thomas felt a wave of dread wash over him.

“Barb? Are you crying? Are you okay?” Thomas saw Alastair turn to him concerned before his attention as back on his sister. “Thomas I’m fine! He proposed! OLIVER PROPOSED!” Thomas burst out laughing and Alastair shot him a look before mouthing, Cordelia, and leaving Thomas to talk with Barbara.

“God, Barbara congrats!” Thomas said enthusiastically. Barbara sniffs again before laughing more. “What did mum and pops say?” Thomas asked, smiling as if this was happening to him. “I haven’t told them yet! I wanted to tell you first!” Barbara said excitedly. “Aww! This is why you’re my favorite! Genie would have kept me out of the loop forever!” Thomas said admittedly giddy.

“For real though Barbara, I’m so happy for you, I’m glad you finally got your happily ever after.” Thomas said softly into the phone. Barbara laughs and he hears another voice in the background. “Thank you, Tommy.” Barbara says, her smile evident in her voice. “Is that Oliver?” Thomas asks.

Barbara chuckles again, she hadn’t stopped since she called him. “Yeah. We’re on our way home to tell mum and pops.” Thomas smiles picturing his father’s proud face and his mother’s tears which were inevitably going to fall.

“May I speak with him really quickly?” Thomas asks, smiling. Barbara hesitated before there was a rustling noise on their side and then Oliver’s voice is coming through the speaker. “Hello?” Oliver says and Thomas smiles and the nervous tint in his voice.

“Hey, are you on speakerphone?” Thomas asks and Oliver chuckles anxiously. “Um no, I’m not.” Thomas nods. He actually really liked Oliver. He obviously cared a lot about his sister and was a kind person. Thomas had been rooting for him from the get-go.

Thomas put on her stern voice before talking. “Okay, so I’m going to say this because someone has to and my dad is too put together to do it.” Oliver audibly gulps and Thomas smiles knowing that Oliver is intimidated enough to actually listen to him.

“If you hurt her in any way I will not hesitate to beat your ass to hell and back is that understood? And you should know I have at least five friends who would help me hide your body where no one would ever look.” Oliver laughs breathlessly and says, “Understood.” Thomas laughs and lightens his voice, his friends always told him he sounded scary when he got serious, but it didn’t happen often enough to be a problem.

“Good and Oliver?” Oliver lets out a shaky ‘yes’. “I’m really glad you two are together,” Thomas says smiling. Oliver laughs again, his laugh dripping with relief. “Thanks, man.” Thomas nods and says, “Okay now put Barbara back on.”

There was rustling again and then Barbara’s bright voice was back. “Please tell me you didn’t scare him too badly.” Barbara said and Thomas could hear a honk in the background. “I didn’t and I’m going to let you go because you’re driving and I just remembered that.” Thomas said feeling bad that he had forgotten she was calling and driving.

Barbara laughed, “I was wondering why you weren’t hanging up on me yet.” Thomas rolled his eyes, “Shut up and go away.” Thomas said though it held no bite. “Yeah yeah love you too little brother.” Thomas laughed. “Love you too call me tonight!” Barbara laughed and promised she would before hanging up.

Thomas sat on his bed a little longer a stupid smile on his face. His sister was getting married. That was such a crazy thought to Thomas, he remembered sitting down with her and helping her plan her wedding when she was ten. Now it was real, now there was no cut-out picture of Chris Evans in a tux, now it was Oliver. Someone she truly loved (not that her love for Chris was fake god only knows how real that was).

Thomas stood up and walked to the living room to see Alastair and Cordelia sitting there laughing. Cordelia looked surprised to see Thomas and looked to her brother with a question in her eyes. Thomas smiled at her and looked at Alastair (something he couldn’t help at this point, his eyes always seemed to find Alastair.) who appeared to be blushing?

Thomas mentally shook his head, because no way was Alastair blushing. He simply did not do that. Alastair let out a tense laugh. “He had to share a room with Christopher who is a fright to sleep with so I offered my extra room to him.” Cordelia nodded and gave Alastair a look Thomas couldn’t identify. “Oh of course, how kind of you Alastair,” Cordelia said in a teasing voice.

Thomas didn’t understand what she was teasing him about, it was kind of Alastair to let him stay on his bus. Alastair shoved Cordelia lightly before standing up. “Has Anna said how long it will be before we get to our first stop?” Alastair asked his sister. Cordelia shook her head and shrugged.

“No, but she said we get a week in the first spot to set everything up and get used to it. We’re doing a few pop-up shows too.” Thomas nods along with Alastair. He had been meaning to ask that as well.

“I think I’m gonna spend the road trip part in Matthew and their bus.” Thomas said walking towards the door. Cordelia stood up and followed him. “I will as well, Lucie is already there. Alastair, joon, are you coming?” Alastair seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding and grabbing his phone from where it was on the table.

As soon as the three of them got on the other boys' bus, they started the traveling part of their trip. Thomas was once again seated next to Alastair and watched as Alastair talked passionately about his last tour.

Thomas couldn’t help but notice all the little things Alastair did. All the small subconscious things he did when he was upset, or happy, or excited. He sat there and wondered if Alastair ever noticed the small things Thomas did.

Thomas stood up and went to grab his songwriting journal he left in Christopher’s room before sitting back down next to Alastair. He decided that he would do what he did best when he wanted answers but didn’t know how to ask.

He’d write a song.

#high notes #high notes: chapter three #thomastair #thomas lightwood #merry thieves #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #james herondale #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #christopher lightwood

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seizethesam · 4 years

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Ode to an Angel-Chapter 2

Summary: You had been alone in this apocalyptic world since you got seperated from your old group and lost your brother. You were on your way to an old metal factory in the hopes of finding your former group when a herd of walkers dragged you in to the woods. You took refuge in a hut, where you met him. You have got a long road ahead and some reckoning to do. (Set in the end of season 2)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

A/N: Ahh... the second chapter is here... Thank you for your likes and reblogs for the first chapter. This is my first time writing Daryl, and I’m a nervous wreck, I don’t know if I’m doing this right ahaha! This chapter reveals more about the reader and her past! I can’t wait to dive deeper into this journey. Feedback is always appreciated. Please let me know what you like or don’t like about the story.

This chapter’s recommended song is “Because We Have To” by Low Roar.

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Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

Then…

At this point you didn’t even know who to trust, this man could even lead you into a trap for that matter. But you knew that the factory would be somewhere near the area he was showing you.

“Thank you,” you said turning your head to face him.

He got up from his knees as he let out a humming sound as a response.

“Ya gonna need more than just two bullets if ya gonna take tha’ route,” he said putting your gun and knife back on the table and left the cottage, closing the door behind him.

Now…

The time had seemed to come and pass. There was a full moon when you had found the old metal factory, and you haven't seen another since then, which told you that it hadn't been a whole month since the factory.

It was a total failure. There were just dead workers walking around. There was nothing, no sign of settlement, no one… your chances of finding your former group were getting low.

You had checked half of the areas that you thought were their kind of places; remote, large, and safe. You didn't know where else to go anymore. They could even be dead by now. But if there were no place to look for, then you were going to look for them. You owed it to your brother.

However, you did not have the energy anymore, being on the road— on foot, was taking all the power you had in you. It could have been weeks since you’ve ended up alone, wandering around to find a bunch of people...

Moreover, you would most definitely be dead by now if it wasn’t for the man with the crossbow. Yes… a couple of weeks ago when you thought that he was taking half your food, he was actually leaving two of the canned food and an additional bottle of water for you. He did not say anything about it, you didn't know why he did it. He just helped you.

You remembered him looking at you before fumbling with his bag.

When you’d checked the drawers again before leaving the cottage, you’d spotted the mushroom soups and the bottle of water. Maybe he looked at you and saw no threat, just a broken girl. He could’ve easily pitied you.

It’d been two days since your food ran out and the boiled dirty water in your canteen was almost finished. You’d avoided eating frogs or snakes since then, but you were starving. It seemed like your belly was sticking to your spine and your lips were cracked from dehydration.

You were walking through the woods, trying to find the highway, then maybe a car to spend the night. The sun was high up in the sky, the Georgian summer heat working against you, your whole body was covered in sweat. The humidity was making it almost impossible to breath.

You could not bring yourself to lift your feet fully to take a step. At this point, you were just dragging them to keep you standing. When you couldn’t keep on going, you sat next to a large tree, laid your back against its trunk, and closed your eyes.

You were all gathered around the fire. The military camp that you took refuge had been bombed a week ago and you were on the run with your little group and your brother. Neither you nor your brother liked to be around people like them; selfish, loathing, and vulgar.

“More people mean better chance at surviving,” he told you, “We just have to put up with them.” You two moved away from the fire to come near the truck.

“I don’t trust them,” you said pointing your chin towards the group of four.

“I know, me neither…” he reassured you, “we need to stick with them ‘till we’re out of the city,” said he.

When the outbreak happened, you and your brother hit the road for the military camp. They said that it was a safe haven for all people, and it really was— until the government bombed the whole place down. You’d managed to get out with a small group of people. You were with them ever since.

“Okay, but I don’t know how long I can keep up with that asshole’s bullshit,” you said turning your head to the brunette man sitting beside the fire. He was just a few years older than your brother. He had good survivalist skills, but he was a total self-absorbed asshat, who kept ordering people around like he was the one in charge.

“You will have to try, sis, just a little while longer, ” your brother said as he wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders.

You reluctantly opened your eyes. Resting for a few minutes did good for your body. You reached for your canteen to take sip from your little remaining water, wanting to boost your energy just a little more to keep going. As the warm water washed down your throat, you found yourself wanting more but you refused to drink any more.

As you tried to get up from the forest floor and reached to support yourself, your hand connected with something slightly colder and moist. You turned your gaze towards the object and saw a large beige colored mushroom.

You once ate a mushroom that looked just like this one, so you assumed that it was not poisonous. Even if it were, you were too hungry to think on it.

“Hello dinner,” you said smiling to yourself as you reached for the wild plant.

You broke the mushroom from its root with a swift motion. You did not want to waste your matches for cooking. You mostly used the matches to start a fire to boil the dirty puddle water. You blew air onto the large plant to get rid of the excess dirt and soil.

You started to eat with such hunger that the mushroom was gone within minutes. You were far from being full, but it was going to have to do.

You got up from the ground after eating the whole thing. You needed to move forward. The highway was only couple of hours away and you had plenty of time to get there before the sunset.

To your surprise, you did not come across that many of the dead throughout the day. There were couple of stray ones here and there. You didn't even bother to kill them. To be honest, you were still scared to get close. You did not interact with them unless you had to.

After a while of walking, you needed to stop as your stomach started to feel funny. You felt a sudden urge to throw up, but it didn’t happen. You were having hard time figuring out where to step as the trees were all in motion, their branches intentionally blocking your way. You continued walking, but you fell a moment later when the forest floor beneath you began to move. Mushroom…

A second later, a piercing pain shoot through the left side of your waist, a warm red liquid spreading around a spot, marking the fabric of your top. You had just realized that you’d fallen over a piece of wood.

You sat on your knees and removed the piece of wood with a groan. You successfully got up despite the mobile ground and the biting pain on your abdomen.

When you were fully standing you untied your shirt around your waist and pressed it to your wound with one hand. Beads of sweat were crawling down your temples to your chin. Just as you were about to move your feet, you recognized a figure standing in front of you.

It was a male figure, slightly taller than you, broad shoulders, dark greasy hair…

“What the hell are you doing here?” The figure talked. His voice was very familiar.

“What?” that was all you could say, you were in utter shock that the man appeared out of nowhere.

“It isn’t worth it, (Y/N),” now that the he’d talked again, you finally figured out who the figure was.

“Matt?” It was your brother. Your chin trembled as you spoke his name. This wasn’t real. No, it was not.

“What you’re doing…isn’t worth it.” He repeated.

“Yes—yes, it is…” you said. Your voice was hoarse because of the lump in your throat. Tears were threatening to spill.

“Stop chasing something you’re not supposed to, sis,” he spoke so tenderly. You felt a pang of grief inside your chest. Well… at this point your heart was taken out of your chest and was squeezed in someone’s hands. That was what it felt like.

“They killed you—,” your sentenced was cut when he spoke, “It doesn’t matter what they did to me. Be smart,” he urged you, his sharp gaze was piercing through you.

“Matt…” you were going to argue but in the blink of an eye, the figure disappeared. “Matthew!” You shouted after him, but he was long gone, and it wasn’t meant to last. You knew that it was the mushroom. You ran after him anyway, not bothering the pain, but your legs failed to carry your weight as you fell flat o your face.

Dehydration, starvation, and exhaustion all together had tired you. The poisonous mushroom and the blood loss did no good on top of all. The dizziness was unbearable now. Your stomach ached like someone had punched you with full force.

Sleep and it will be all over. A voice inside your head snapped. You struggled to get up, but your surroundings went dark and the last thing you saw was the dying sun on the Georgia horizon.

Your eyes fluttered open just a little as you feel yourself moving. But no, you were not laying on the rough forest ground. Instead, you were being carried. A moment later, your eyes closed again, not allowing you to identify the person carrying you.

Muffled voices raised around you; they were two men; you could tell that one of them was old.

“…your responsibility.” The older voice said.

Your mind immediately went to the sharp pain on your abdomen. You frowned at the aching pain as you opened your eyes.

“Hey, she’s waking up,” the younger man said. He looked like he was in his thirties and had dark wavy hair that he had swept back. His sounded cautious. Next to him was the older man.

“Where the hell am I?” You asked the older them; your voice was croaky from sleep.

“Good morning, my name is Hershel.” The man talked, he was much older than the other man, his hair was whiter than the snow. You did not know these people. The last thing you remembered was the sunset, the pain and a person carrying you in the dark. Maybe you did find what you were looking for all this time. But you had to be smart.

***

Chapter 3

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon icons #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #rick grimes #daryl dixon series

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cristinablackthornkingson · 4 years

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Shadowhunter Short Story #66. Matthew finally confesses his darkest secret.

CW/TW: Miscarriage, self-hatred, alcoholism, child loss.

It is a cold and gloomy day in November 1903, and Cordelia is curled up in armchair by the fire, in Cirenworth, with her newborn baby sister Daria curled up asleep on her chest, and Matthew stretched out on the sofa across from her. Cordelia had agreed to watch her sister today, while her mother and father attended to business in Idris and Alastair is on patrol.

Half an hour ago, Matthew showed up looking for James, who was keeping Cordelia company while she looked after little Daria. A few minutes before Matthew showed up, James had gone into town to gather some ingredients to make lunch for he and Cordelia. Cordelia had explained this to Matthew and then invited him in to wait for James to come back. Thankfully Matthew did not appear to be drunk at this minute, but he is clearly hungover and in need of company.

“Math?” Cordelia quietly asks, looking at her friend with concern. Matthew opens his eyes and pushes his damp blonde hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“Yes Daisy?”

“Why do you do it? Why do you drink so much, why are you always drunk?” Cordelia quietly asks. Over the last few months Matthew’s drinking habits have only gotten worse and the alcohol is clearly taking a toll on his health, she has noticed him losing his breath faster and more easily, he is not as fast on his feet as he once was, his aim with weapons is off, he is clumsy and always tripping over himself, he is lucky he has not gotten himself killed yet.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Matthew quietly says, turning his face away from Cordelia. He will never admit to his awful habits, even though they are extremely obvious, he never tries to hide it anymore or pretend he is not drunk.

“Matthew please.” Cordelia says in a soft tone. “I am your friend, I care about you and I am very worried about you, you are putting yourself in horrendous danger, you could end up dying.”

“Good, it is what I deserve, after what I did.” Matthew says in a bitter tone, his lip curling in disgust.

“Matthew! You cannot say such a dreadful thing about yourself! What have you done that is so awful?” Cordelia pleads with him. Matthew turns his gaze on her again, this time it is cold and full of loathing and hatred for himself.

“You really want to know?” Cordelia nods, and Matthew pushes himself up into a sitting position on the couch. “Alright Daisy, I will tell you, then I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me I do not to deserve to die. Three years ago, when I was 15, your darling brother Alastair spread a rumor that my papa is not indeed my papa, that rotten gimp you call a brother, he started a rumor that my mama had an affair with my Uncle Gideon and conceived me, that I get my blonde hair and green eyes from him.

I was insecure and foolish enough to think it may be true, my parents and brother had been secretive and quiet in the weeks leading up to this, and my Uncle Gideon was helping my mama out even more than usual, this lead me to believe that mama and papa were getting a divorce. So, I went to the Shadow market one night and bought what I at the time thought was a truth potion, from a faerie woman.

The next day I baked scones and cranberries for my mama and added the potion into them, intending to ask her if she and papa were separating and if I was indeed Uncle Gideon’s bastard, as Alastair claimed.

Mama took one bite of the scone and collapsed, she almost died.

While Uncle Jem tended to her in the infirmary, papa came to me and told me that the secret he, mama and Charles were keeping over the past weeks, was that mama was pregnant. Papa told me then, about my great-great Aunt Matilda, who I got my blonde hair from. He told me her nickname was Mattie, and when mama was pregnant with me, Papa suggested they name me Matthew, after his great-aunt Matilda, mama agreed and that is how I got my name. I knew then that those awful rumors were nothing but rumors, and Uncle Gideon was not my father, I should have known mama would never ever be unfaithful to papa and Uncle Gideon would never betray Aunt Sophie.

A few hours later Uncle Jem came to me and... he told me that mama was alright, but.... she had a miscarriage.

So you see Cordelia, I am a murderer. I did not trust my own mother who is the most wonderful woman on this planet, and as a result I killed my sister before she was even born.

That is why I drink, to forget all my pain and all the pain I have caused others.

Now you look at me and tell me I do not deserve to die a horrible death.” By the time Matthew finishes his explanation both he and Cordelia have tears running down their faces. Cordelia’s heart is utterly broken for Matthew and his parents, and she is simultaneously furious with Alastair. He is also responsible for Charlotte’s miscarriage and Cordelia does not intend to let him away with it lightly.

“Oh Matthew.” Cordelia softly says, getting up and carefully placing Daria in her bassinet, before moving to embrace Matthew, holding him tightly as he sobs into her shoulder. “Math, it is alright. Yes you made a grave mistake, but you are not a murderer and you do not deserve to die. You did not know what was in that Faerie Potion.” Cordelia soothes him.

“Uncle Jem warned me! He warned me that Faeries can be deceitful and that I should not trust them, he tried to prevent me from buying that bloody potion but I went behind his back and bought it anyway!” Matthew sobs, breaking Cordelia’s heart solidly in two.

“Oh Math, have you told anyone else?” Cordelia asks.

“Uncle Jem, he is the only one that knows.” Matthew quietly says.

“Matthew you must tell your parents, this secret is quite literally killing you.” Matthew frantically shakes his head.

“No, no I cannot! They will hate me, rightfully so, but I cannot bare a life without them. I-I cannot go on without my parents, without reading with mama a-and listening to her stories about Charlie and I as babies, a-and helping my papa with his experiments and inventions.” Matthew frantically says, his mind racing with the thoughts of how miserable his life would be without his parents. He has always been both a mama’s boy and a daddy’s boy, ever since he was born he has adored his parents and always wanted to be with them.

“Oh Matthew no they will not. Your parents adore you and they will understand, if anyone is to blame it is Alastair and believe me I will be having words with him about this. Please Matthew, you must tell your parents.” Cordelia begs, but Matthew just shakes his head again.

“No, no I cannot. I should not have even told you Daisy, I am sorry.” He grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa and leaves before Cordelia can say another word.

About an hour later, as Cordelia sits thinking about everything Matthew had told her that morning, she hears the front door open and close, and a few seconds later Alastair appears in the doorway, his dark hair tousled by the wind, his cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Hello Layla, isn’t James suppose to be here with you?” He asks, looking around for his future brother-in-law.

“He was but he had to leave early, Lucie needed him. I need to talk to you Alastair.” Cordelia says in a calm tone.

“Alright, we can talk after I change my clothes.” Alastair says, not realizing how serious thing are about to get.

“No Alastair, I need to talk to you right now, while Daria is asleep.” Cordelia firmly says, surprising her brother. Cordelia is usually a very gentle and calm person, it is not like her to make demands.

“Alright, then talk.” Alastair says, taking a seat on the couch across from Cordelia.

“Matthew was here earlier, he told me about the rumors you started some years ago, that Charlotte Fairchild had an affair with Gideon Ligthwood and conceived Matthew, and that is why Matthew looks nothing like Charlotte or Henry.” Cordelia starts in a cold tone. Alastair pales.

“I will not deny it, yes I started those rumors. It was absolutely horrific of me, I know and I sincerely regret it to this day. It is no excuse but I was taking out my insecurities on Matthew, I was trying to fit in with the other boys from school.

You never attended The Academy Layla, but there, it is bully or be bullied, and I was already an easy target because of our father and because of the color of my skin. If I wanted to survive there I felt as though I had no choice but to be a bully, and I saw Matthew as an easy target, he and his perfect family. I was jealous too, Layla. The Fairchilds seem to have such a perfect and lovely family, while we have an alcoholic father.” Alastair explains in a bitter tone. “Believe me I am disgusted with myself Cordelia, and I am trying to make up for it.”

“Alastair you do not understand the harm your nasty rumors caused. I... do you know that Charlotte had a miscarriage because of the stress those rumors caused?” Cordelia asks in a tight tone, briefly thinking of telling her brother what Matthew had told her earlier, but ultimately deciding she could not do that without first asking Matthew.

“I... I know. Charles told me. Trust me Layla I feel absolutely horrific and I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from doing that, but I cannot.” Alastair quietly says in a tight tone.

“Alastair you must tell Charlotte and Henry, as well as Gideon and Sophie that you started those rumors and you must apologize to them, it is the only way to even remotely make it up to them.” Cordelia firmly says.

“I.... yes, alright. I will go when mama and papa come back in a few hours.” Alastair says in a defeated tone, knowing he must accept what he did and do what he can to make up for it. Cordelia nods approvingly.

“I will come with you.”

2 hours later, Alastair and Cordelia are standing on the steps of the Fairchild London home, nervously waiting for someone to answer the door. When they had first arrived, they immediately noticed the Lightwood carriage in the courtyard, and Alastair can only hope that it is Sophie and Gideon who are visiting, and not Cecily and Gabriel or any of the Ligthwood children, so he does not have to repeat his story and can tell the two couples at once.

A few seconds after The Carstairs’ siblings knock on the door, the front door swings open to reveal Charlotte Fairchild, her dark hair in a chignon at the back of her head, and she is wearing a simple light-blue floor-length dress, with a dark blue cardigan over it. She smiles brightly at Alastair and Cordelia and opens the door further.

“Alastair, Cordelia! How lovely to see you, I am afraid Matthew and Charles are not here, however.” Charlotte says.

“Oh, we are not here to see Matthew or Charles, Mrs. Fairchild. We were hoping we could speak to you and Mr. Fairchild, if you do not mind?” Cordelia politely asks.

“Oh please call me Charlotte, or better yet call me Aunt Charlotte, and my husband would insist you call him Henry, or Uncle Henry, Of course you can speak to us, come in. Gideon and Sophie are here too but the four of us can speak somewhere private.” Charlotte says in a cherry tone, as the siblings step in and hand their coats to the Fairchild’s housekeeper.

“If it is alright with you Mrs_ Charlotte, I-I would like to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood too, at the same time.” Alastair sheepishly asks.

“Oh, yes of course it is alright, come through to the drawing room, warm yourselves up.” Charlotte says, leading them into the drawing room, where Henry, Gideon and Sophie are speaking quietly.

“Henry, Sophie, Gideon. Cordelia and Alastair here would like to speak with us, is that alright with you?” Charlotte asks, taking a seat next to Henry and slipping her hand into his.

“Perfectly alright with me Lottie.” Henry says in a cheery tone.

“Us too.” Sophie says, while Gideon nods his agreement. Alastair takes a deep breath before launching into his story.

“I... I am sure you know of and heard the... the awful rumors that were spread, a few years ago, a-about Matthew’s parentage. I know they caused both of your families a lot of stress and shame. I... I came here today to tell you that... that I was the one who started those rumors.

You see, I-I was jealous of your family, of Matthew. You seem to have such a perfect family and lives and... well Cordelia and I do not, we never have.

As you know, our father has a serious drinking problem, which is why we moved so often. As a result our family was never normal, and I never got to be as joyous and care-free as Matthew had been when I met him, I was always hiding my father’s intoxication from Cordelia, and hiding his empty bottles o-or filling the half-empty ones with water, to make it look as though he had not drank as much as he did.

I know what I did was absolutely horrendous and completely unforgivable, and I do not expect any of you to forgive me, or even like me. I cannot go back in time and take back what I did, much as I wish I could, but Layla made me realize that the only thing I could do, was tell you the truth and apologize. I am truly sorry for what I did, I know it makes no difference, but I regret it with everything I am.” The room is completely silent and still after Alastair’s explanation. Sophie has covered her face with one hand, and Gideon is consolingly rubbing her back. Charlotte has a look of both sympathy and absolute furry on her face, and Alastair nor Cordelia have ever seen Henry look so angry and upset before.

“Do you have any idea what those rumors did to our families?” Gideon asks in a deadly quiet tone. “As if my wife and I did not have enough on our plates, with our Thomas only starting to grow stronger and healthier, and Sophie and I’s marriage always being laughed at and mocked, because Sophie use to be a mundane and a maid. Then those dreadful rumors began and almost destroyed our reputation.”

“Oh but Gideon how they impacted us and our family matters so little compared to how they impacted Charlotte and Henry.” Sophie quietly says.

“Charlotte and I have always had trouble having children, after Charles we struggled greatly to have Matthew, he was and is our miracle. We both wanted more children after Matthew, but it seemed like it was never going to happen, we had almost given up hope, then Charlotte fell pregnant, with our first daughter. We were so thrilled, we were ready to tell our friends and family, but then the rumors began and the stress those rumors caused Charlotte....” Henry trials off in a tight tone.

“I lost the baby, I had a miscarriage because of the stress those rumors caused and now it really will be a miracle if we have another biological child.” Charlotte finishes in a teary tone.

“The reason Matthew does not look like Charlotte or I, is because he looks like my great aunt Matilda, Mattie, for who he is named. Matthew is my son, biologically and all. My wife would never be unfaithful to me, nor I her. We do not have a perfect life by any means, you made assumptions based on how we appear to others, and it cost us a child.” Henry quietly says, his jaw clenched.

“I can assure you that I only have 3 children, 2 now our Barbara is... gone, I am extremely lucky to have Sophie as my wife and the mother of my children. From the moment I met her, I wanted to be with no other woman in this world, Charlotte is a wonderful friend and I love her dearly, but not in the way I love Sophie, she is the only woman I have eyes for, I am not my father, I would never break my vows to Sophie, I am a lucky man to be her husband, I would be a fool to throw that all away.” Gideon says in a cold and harsh tone.

“I think it is best you leave now, Alastair. Cordelia you are welcome to stay, but it would be best if your brother did not.” Charlotte quietly says, holding back the tears.

“Thank you Charlotte, but I do not wish to intrude on such a private moment.” Cordelia quietly says. “Thank you for listening to my brother, and I am truly sorry for what he has done.”

Shortly after The Carstairs’ siblings leave, Sophie and Gideon decide to leave too, wanting to be alone and to check in on Eugenia and Thomas.

“Henry.” Charlotte quietly says, once they are alone again. “Have you seen Matthew today?”

“He was in the lab with me this morning Lottie, but then he left to go find James, I have not seen him since.” Henry says, worry striking him when he looks at the clock and realizes Matthew has been gone all day, again.

“I know Charles is with Grace, but where is Matthew?” Charlotte asks in a worried tone, wanting her son back safe, so she can tell him the truth about the rumors, knowing how awfully they impacted him, too.

“Perhaps he is with James, or one of the boys, or he could be with Anna.” Henry suggests hopefully, knowing that his nephews and niece will keep his Matthew safe, if he is indeed with them and not some random Shadowhunter or Downworlder he has decided to spend the night with. Henry has no problem with his son having an interest in both men and women, Shadowhunter or Downworlder, but he does wish Matthew would be more safe when choosing his partners and not go off with random people he does not know.

“I hope so.” Charlotte says in an anxious tone.

2 hours later, just as Henry and Charlotte are thinking of going out and searching for Matthew, afraid he has fallen into the Thames or something equally as awful, the front door opens and closes and Matthew stumbles into the drawing room, with no coat or hat or anything, his hair damp, his face red from the cold, and stinking of alcohol.

“Matthew.” Charlotte breathes in relief. “Matthew Granville Fairchild, where have you been?!” Matthew shrugs.

“I cannot quite remember, I think I was with Cordelia and her baby sister this morning, then I... oh yes I remember now, I went to the pub, been there all day. Met a nice chap, had to give up on him when he told me he does not like dogs and poetry.” Matthew slurs, slumping down onto the couch across from his parents, patting Oscar’s head when the dog comes over and sniffs at him in concern. “’Course no one can hold a candle to Lucie, eh Oscar old pal? My fault for falling in love with a Herondale, they are known for being heartbreakers.”

“Matthew.” Charlotte says in a concerned tone. “Sweetheart why do you do this to yourself? Why are you always drinking and going off with strange men and women? I do not care that you like both men and women, I could not care about that less, but you are going off with people you do not know who could harm you. Why Matthew, why do you do it to yourself?” Charlotte drops to her knees by her son’s side, brushing his hair back from his face.

“You do not want to know mama, you will hate me.” Matthew quietly says.

“No, no I will not Matthew, I could never hate you.” Charlotte softly says.

“Are you quite sure about that? Well what if I told you that it is my fault you had a miscarriage? The rumors that I was Uncle Gideon’s bastard got to me and I wanted to know the truth, so like the fool I am, instead of simply asking you or papa, I bought a truth potion from a Faerie at the Shadow Market, and I put in the scones I made you that day, intending to ask you if the rumors were true.But it was not a potion, it was a poison that almost killed you and killed the baby. It was my fault, I am a murderer, I killed my sister.”

For the second time that day, the Fairchild’s drawing room is filled with a shocked silence.

“I told you you would hate me.” Matthew quietly says. Charlotte shakes her head, cupping Matthew’s face in her hands.

“No, no no Matthew I do not hate you, I could never. Matthew, my baby, what happened was not your fault. Yes, I wish you had of come to me and your father and asked us the truth, but in honesty I likely would not have done that at 15, either. You had no idea what was in that potion, you were a confused and scared little boy who just wanted answers, you had no ill intent, you did not even know I was pregnant. It is not your fault Matthew, do you hear me? If anyone is to blame it is the Faerie who you bought that potion from, but most certainly not you.” Charlotte firmly tells her son in a teary tone.

Henry wheels himself over to his wife and son and takes Matthew’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“My Matthew, my sweet, happy boy. You are not at fault here my boy, not one bit. Is this why you are always drinking? To forget?” Henry gently asks. Matthew nods.

“All these years I have kept this a secret, I used alcohol to forget and numb the pain, I do not know how to cope without it.” Matthew quietly says, as tears roll down his face. Charlotte sniffles and wipes his tears away, as Henry presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Oh my sweet boy, my little miracle. We will help you Matthew, we will help your learn how to cope without alcohol, you are going to live a normal and happy life, you will not be able to go out drinking with Anna anymore, but there is still so much you can do with Anna and all your other friends.” Charlotte quietly says. Matthew laughs softly.

“Perhaps Lucie will fall in love with me when I am no longer drinking, I cannot blame her for not loving me now, a brilliant girl like Lucie would not want to saddle herself with a useless drunk like me.”

“Oh Matthew you are not useless, and you are not a drunk, you are an alcoholic, a lot of people are, it is nothing to be ashamed of.” Charlotte softly says.

“I want to be happy, I want to get married and have children, I want to read poetry and hunt demons with the boys, go to parties with Anna, see Jamie marry Cordelia. I want to marry Lucie and grow old with her, be as happy as you, mama and papa.” Matthew quietly says, his eyes closed and a smile tugging at his lips as he imagines a life with Lucie. He imagines their children, a girl first who looks just like Lucie, but with his eyes, then a boy who looks just like him, but with Lucie’s eyes.

“You will Matthew, I promise you will be happy.”

2 years later, Matthew is a year and a half sober, with only two very minor slip-ups in that time. Recovery was long and difficult, and it will never be over, but it is more than worth it. Matthew is going on 20 now, and has been courting Lucie for 1 year. He had never been happier than when she told him that she loves him too, when he had been sober for 5 months. They have an extremely happy relationship and Lucie is so supportive of Matthew and his sobriety, he does not feel he could have done it without her.

Now, they are sitting on a picnic blanket in Hyde park, under a tree and away from the summer sun. They had finished eating a while ago, and Lucie has just finished reading Matthew an expert of her latest book, that is going to published later in the year. Matthew is so very proud of Lucie, and one of her biggest supporters, When Lucie had given him an early copy of the book, Matthew had turned around and asked her to sign it, which made Lucie very happy, and Matthew was very happy to be the first to have a signed copy, it is something he will cherish forever.

“What did you think? I added this part last night, it is not in the copy I gave you.” Lucie asks, tucking the manuscript back into the picnic basket.

“It was wonderful Lu, I guarantee people will be reading the book hundreds of years from now. Now, it is my turn to ask you a question.” Matthew says. Lucie smiles and moves closer to him.

“Oh yes? And what would that be?” She asks. Matthew reaches into his jacket and pulls out The Fairchild family ring. When Charles and Grace had married last year, the ring was passed onto Matthew, he had been eager to use it ever since he got it.

“Lucie, will you marry me?” Matthew does his best to keep the nerve out of his tone. Lucie looks from him to the ring and back again, her big blue eyes wide with shock. She is quiet for a minute, and Matthew is about to say something, when Lucie finally speaks up.

“Oh Matthew, yes, yes of course I will.” Matthew sighs in relief and slips the ring onto her finger, then Lucie lunges forward and crushes her lips to his. When she pulls back, Matthew smiles softly at her, and pushes her hair back.

“Mrs. Lucie Fairchild, I like the sound of that. Or will I be Mr. Matthew Herondale?” Lucie laughs, making Matthew’s heart swell with love.

“Hmm, that is a difficult one. I like Mrs. Lucie Fairchild most.” Matthew grins and nods.

“As do I.” Then he stands up and holds out a hand to Lucie.

“Come along Mrs. Fairchild, let us go tell our family our news.”

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound 2/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 1

Part 3

AO3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 2: Journey to Neverland

Morning comes, and Alfred finds himself huddled on the floor of a toilet stall. He was fine up till very recently, having spent the previous night occupied with travelling to where his ship was docked via his dome's rather old shuttle bus. The covers of the seat of the bus had been cracked with age and Alfred had absent mindedly picked at the stuffing whilst he watched his childhood home zip by in a blur of dusty yellow before slipping away into the distance. The Earth-bound ship, his new home for now, was very different in comparison to anything he'd ever seen on the planet before, all bold, sleek lines of monochrome with bright lights and shiny windows that hadn't yet been smeared opaque by the atmosphere. It was exciting, it was different; it was like a dream coming true because there in front of him had been something which represented a future, a very large representation of the possibilities he could find.

He queued up to board and was assigned his room all within the space of a hour and Alfred had quickly unpacked with a frenzy of excitement in his small room. His room mate, a small, quiet man called Kiku, had watched the sudden chaos with an unreadable expression from the bunk he'd retreated to with a book after he had introduced himself. For Alfred, that was all easy. That was all doing something, there was a plan and it needed action and Alfred lost himself in the motions.

But then he'd run out of things to do. Kiku had watched him from the corner of his eye as Alfred grew progressively more anxious, rearranging his things, standing up to stare out of the window, sitting down to his laptop, getting up again, all whilst the feeling of panic took root and bloomed in his chest. It was now, with an empty task list and hours to wait before take off, that Alfred suddenly understood what exactly it was he had just done and was in the process of doing.

He had excused himself for a walk but hadn't got far before all of his anxiety came to a head and he needed to get away from all of the people, away from the windows where he could see the landscape he'd soon be leaving behind without knowing if he'd ever see it again and away from the exits and doors, most of all, because he was half scared that he'd just walk out of one.

He chose the first bathroom he came to and squashed himself on the floors in a stall, pillowing his head in his arms as he squeezed, and still squeezes, his knees in a desperate attempt to calm down and rationalise.

Breathe.

He extracts an arm from where it is hooked under his knee and glances at his watch. It is 10.38am. By now, he should be at work. By now, his parents would be up and assume he is where he is supposed to be, at work now themselves. It took him five hours to get to the ship, so he has until 12pm to board a bus back and get home before them, to pretend that nothing had happened. He has until 12pm before whatever choice he makes becomes the only one he has left. If his parents were to find out, if they were to know where he plans on going or if his job were to get wind of what he is doing then he doesn't think there will be any chance of fixing it completely. His boss and colleagues would consider him a flight risk and which would ruin his chances at moving up the career ladder, his parents would be broken hearted that he had thought about leaving in the first place, not even adding on the hurt that he didn't plan on saying goodbye, and he knows that if he goes home to talk about it with them he'd be talked out of it instantly. He doesn't even think that he'd put up much of a fight.

Alfred buries his face back into his knees and bites on his cheeks, not hard enough to draw blood or cause any real pain but enough for him to focus on. What was he doing? Was he really going to throw his whole life away, all of what he'd built and all of what he could have, just like this? On a whim? Because that's what this is, a whim, and he knows it. What if there is nothing waiting for him on earth, what if there isn't anyone who wants him to work in history, what if he can't settle in or make friends or get enough money together to try again; is it worth the risk?

He hears the door to the bathroom open and he stills, breathing slowly through his mouth before carefully going to uncurl himself and move to the toilet where his feet won't be seen.

He's too late. The footsteps of the other person stop on front of the mirrors over the sinks but they quickly start moving again, towards where he's hiding. The footsteps slow down before coming to a stop in front of his door and Alfred watches as the person shifts their weight from one foot to the other, as if they're deciding what to do.

'Hello?' They say in a soft, tentative voice. Alfred knows it's stupid, because the other person, a young man by the sounds of it, obviously knows that he's here, but for a second he thinks that maybe if he doesn't say anything they won't notice him.

'Um, are you okay?' Still Alfred doesn't answer and watches as the person outside his door shifts to the other foot.

'Do you need me to get anyone, or anything?'

'No,' he surprises himself by answering and without his self-control his voice catches before he's able to stop it. He forces himself to speak again, more normally, 'I'll be alright, but thanks! Just ah... just needed to get away for a bit.'

'Cool uh, okay. Me too, you know? It's a lot to think about.'

It's hard to keep up a conversation when one of the participants in locked in a toilet but the other man has that small wobble in his voice that Alfred is trying to cover up in his own and he realises that this guy isn't going to go away any time soon. So, legs beginning to cramp anyway, he shakily gets to his feet and unlocks the door.

The other man is his height and seems to be his age, with shoulder length, wavy blond hair and large round glasses perched on his nose. They're slipping, and he pushes them up as Alfred emerges.

He gives a small smile. 'Hey, glad you're alright. I didn't know whether to disturb you or not, if I'm honest.'

Alfred shakes his and sticks out his hand for the other to take. 'Nah, I'm glad that you did. I was talking myself round in circles in there.'

The man takes it and gives it a quick shake. 'I know the feeling, bit crazy this, eh? I'm Matthew.'

'Alfred.'

Matthew nods at him. 'Nice to meet you. You here with anyone?'

He obviously doesn't mean the bathroom and Alfred swallows the hot flash of loneliness and regret that makes itself known in his throat. 'Nope, all alone! You?'

Matthew ducks his head and shifts his feet again. 'Same.'

'Do you...' Alfred pauses, uncertain if he wants to hear the answer, but he heard the wobble in Matthew's voice and he must be Alfred's age; he must be worried about similar things to what Alfred is so he presses on, 'Can I ask you something kinda personal? Do you think we're doing the right thing, leaving here? I mean it's a long way away and everything and it's not like there's an easy way back.'

Matthew blinks at him and takes a long breath in before answering with a voice filled with unexpected finality. 'Yeah. I mean, I don't know what your reasons are, of course, or what you're giving up, but-' He stares at the spot between Alfred's eyes and continues, 'but we're going to Earth, even if it goes horribly wrong or we don't get what we're going there for, it's Earth, isn't it? It's worth a try.'

It's what Alfred wanted to hear, it's the validation of his selfishness that he needed but it doesn't quite soothe his concerns as much as he had hoped.

Matthew must have noticed, because he tries again, sounding slightly panicked, 'I'm sure you'll be fine though, whatever happens! I mean, I'm going there because I'm hoping to work with all of the animals they've got; my parents warned me that they won't care about that and will probably put me to work on a farm or something but as long as you're fit to work they're not gonna turn us away, right?'

Alfred fights down the euphoric glee trying to become a grin on his face and instead says, 'Yeah, but farms have animals too, right?'

Matthew laughs. 'I bet I'll get trodden to death by a cow.'

Alfred claps him on the back. 'Hey, that sounds like a great way to go! Don't worry, man, I'll write home for you and say it was a elephant, or something. You know, keep your street cred up.'

Matthew rolls his eyes and grins at him. As he jabbers about the elephants that used to live on Earth before the Fall, later on in one of the canteens on their deck where they go for lunch, Alfred notices the clock hit 12 and feels nothing but excitement.

He'll be fine.

……………………………………………………………………

Peter is twelve, and the trip is finally coming to an end. It's been so many years, here on the ship, that if not for the books and videos he sees in school he would have forgotten how the domes and living stations from his home planet looked, now far far away. He thought that he was prepared for the sight of Earth, their species' old home world, he's seen so many photos of it that all he needs to do is hear the name to have it brought up in his mind, as detailed and as clear as anything he's seen with his own eyes. But, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

He is sitting in the corridor outside his living quarters. Mum and Dad are arguing, again, and he doesn't really want to be in there right now because he knows that as soon as they see him they'll pretend that nothing's the matter and he thinks that that's probably worse. With a sigh, he gets up, floor too hard to actually sit on for long periods, and goes for a wander around his 'neighbourhood'. As he passes doors of the others living here he wonders what kind of families live inside them: a mum and her kids, an elderly couple, someone young looking for something new, or maybe they're just like him, dragged here because their planet couldn't support them and they took a chance at building something better. A split family with barely anything to their name hurtling towards an unknown utopia.

It's been hard to get news of Earth and of the colony they'll be joining, when their ship stops only to refuel itself, but apparently it's going well. This is a comfort, at least, because not much else is these days. Some people live on space stations or spaceships and nothing else and although Peter finds an odd sort of comfort being surrounded by metal his parents, and many others, do not. Fights and spats amongst the passengers and crew have been increasing in the last few months, especially once everyone knew that they were getting close to the end of the flight. The ship they're on isn't even that small, so maybe it's not cabin fever after all and more impatience that drives the tempers high and tolerance down.

As he gets to a plaza of sorts, (the town square, as it is affectionately known,) he notices a huddle of people clambering over each other to reach and get a look out of the large, expansive windows there. Deciding against trying to force his way through the excited mass he goes forward and off to the side of the huddle to a smaller porthole and gazes out curiously.

What he sees is spellbinding, unlike anything he has ever seen before. It is not difficult to understand what is so interesting. Amongst the glittering, never-ending stars lies the Earth, shining bright and blue and all of a sudden Peter forgets how to breathe. It's blue, more blue than it ever was in the photos from his school books, there are swirls and blurs of greens and browns and whites mixed in all together but there is blue blue blue. In no picture did it ever look like this, earth was brown and dead and dry, this wasn't Earth. This wasn't the home humans had ruined, this wasn't what they had left behind. This, this couldn't be Earth, couldn't be his new home because there was so much water and-

Peter is jostled, another boy has pushed him away from the window where he had pressed his face close to the glass to see -his breath still mists the glass- but now he can only see the inky blackness of space from behind the boy's head and so he ducks away from the crowd of bodies and goes off in search of his parents, heart pounding furiously in his ears.

……………………………………………………………………

Francis, and the people he is with, are the first who will arrive on Earth. Their ship will get there the fastest and thus all aboard will be trained in a skill necessary to facilitate the setting up and maintenance of the first colony, distinct from the research bases already dotted about there. His mother must have known, because every adult he encounters are all young and healthy with intelligence and passion. There seems to be a entry requirement, because there are people from other planets besides his own that share the same qualities and all see to be formally trained, in one way or another. For the first time, he is grateful for his drafting.

Francis is happy to learn that he can pick what he wants to learn, out of the options that are available to him, and he chooses geology. The study of the soil and its chemistry isn't what he ever foresaw himself doing, but it seems to fit, somehow. As he learns about the tectonic movements of the earth, how the structure of the planet operates and how this in turn can affect and be affected by the weather, he feels like he's becoming a part of something once more. There is a goal at last, a purpose, and though he still feels as though there's something missing from his life the feeling is lessened by simply working past it; there is something to focus on.

It is lessened more so, maybe, by Arthur. Arthur is the unfortunate man assigned to share Francis' room, sleeping in the bunk above his, and specialising in agriculture. He wants to see the sea, has always wanted to see the sea, and when he talks about the oceans and cliffs and the rocking of far away waves Francis feels a part of himself become alive and real. Despite the nonchalance he coats it in, there is passion in Arthur's voice, there is a drive and a yearning which Francis recognises as one he used to share and to see it reflecting from Arthur's eyes makes his own burn with a longing he can't understand or explain. There is a tugging deep in his stomach and he starts to gaze out of the windows in anticipation, Arthur's voice drifting around his head to settle between his ears.

When Francis is twenty six, they finally get there. The stations below are set up on a nice bit of land close to the sea but also to a freshwater river too; there's fertile fields and dense forests with lots of wild-life and wild fruits and vegetables. He knows all of this before they're allowed down because that's all part of the training and survival lessons they're given. Each member must be capable of pulling their weight in areas other than their specialisation and Francis is now well versed on which plants he can eat and which he can't, how to make simple animal traps and how to catch a fish.

He feels ready to go and is excited to finally get to work and see these fields, seas and forests for himself, excited to see so much that he's only heard about and seen in pictures. And though he says otherwise, Arthur is just as excited, Francis knows, because anytime anything to do with Earth is mentioned he sits a little straighter, comes a little closer, and opens himself up a little bit more to get as much information as he can.

'Do you ever think,' Francis asks him one night, 'about where we're landing?'

Arthur turns over in the bunk above him and the metal creaks under his weight. 'What on earth are you talking about.'

'We're landing on what was once a country,' Francis explains, 'it once had people who had a language and a culture and a history. It's not just land, it was once a place that humans long ago spoke about.'

Arthur offers no further input, so Francis continues. 'It could have been someone's favourite place to go on holiday, or it could have been a small village where children grew up and played, or it could have been the site of a terrible battle from long long ago.'

'It probably was the site of a battle, at least once.' Arthur mutters from his bed.

Francis ignores him. 'It seems like a shame. Whatever is there will be built on by us; it's almost as if we're destroying its history.'

'We're not destroying it,' Arthur's voice is quiet but speaks volumes; he's thought about this before, 'we're adding to it. We're just another story for it to keep.'

Francis laughs and calls him sentimental but regrets it when Arthur throws a well aimed pillow at him.

'Shut it! Now, give that back.'

'No.'

'Francis! Give. it. back.'

'Why? You threw it at me, I did not take it from you.'

'For fuck sake, you utter waste of a human.' He's clambering down and once Francis sees his toes on the rungs of the ladder he rolls onto his belly, trapping the pillow beneath him. Arthur tugs on his shoulder and succeeds in rolling Francis back over but before he can do much else Francis grabs him and pulls him down to the bed. Arthur gives an undignified squawk, his head hits one of the metal frames and he tumbles gracelessly onto Francis' lap.

Francis can't help but laugh. 'Oh Arthur I'm sorry, are you-' but he's stopped by Arthur punching him in the eye, hard, and then there's one of their neighbours hammering on the wall next to Francis' ear, bellowing for them to shut the fuck up already because it's 1 am and some people plan on trying to sleep tonight.

They are taken down in the shuttle the next day in the afternoon. They're not allowed outside yet, they need to adjust to the planet's gravity and get used to the micro bacteria in the air, so they are housed in the Arrivals' building and assigned a room to sleep in for the time being. Francis has a black eye and Arthur has an egg-sized lump on his forehead but they're both too busy staring out of the window at the dazzling sunshine to complain that they've been put together, again.

……………………………………………………………………

Ludwig disappeared with Gilbert two days after his attack. Thanks to his illness though, they both easily convinced their parents that they'd rather stay home than making the trip to their grandparents' house and so they saw them off with ease, Gilbert trying not to grin and Ludwig trying not to give them away with how much he was sweating. As soon as they were alone he and his brother went to their rooms and packed a bag, Ludwig agonising over the situation with himself the whole time. When the day came a still wobbly Ludwig was bundled in his brother's transport pod and they both travelled to their boarding dock. It was so easy to leave.

Maybe that's what Ludwig is hurt most about. Neither parent seemed to care that he couldn't make it to his grandparents', neither parents called to check in one them whilst they were away. They probably wouldn't know anything was wrong until they returned, a few days too late to stop them.

Despite the ease of everything else, the trip itself is horrible. Ludwig's body, having only barely adjusted to his own ship's gravity systems, now finds itself thrust upon a different one and is rebelling angrily against him. The attacks are more frequent now than ever, leaving him unable to work at anything for long before another one knocks him back to bed. Today is one such day, he curls up in his bunk and tries not to complain or let his brother know how bad he feels; Gilbert does enough for him already.

He must have fallen into a daze, because he wakes up in a panic to the sounds of Gilbert kicking the door open and flinging his work bag against the wall with a thud. He tries to sit up but the world pitches alarmingly, so for the good of both of them and the state of their floor he lays back down gingerly. 'Bad day?'

Gilbert snorts and flops down on the floor to tug off his boots. 'I'll fucking say, there was massive electrical surge in one of the computers and it fucked up at least a third of people's personal systems on the ship.'

Ludwig clucks his tongue in sympathy and looks his brother over with concern. Despite looking harried he doesn't seem too worse for wear, but he works far too much in order to support them both and it's tiring him out. However, someone needs to pay for their keep and it sure as hell can't be Ludwig at the moment.

Gilbert catches him staring and glares at him, knowing what he's thinking about. They've been down that particular road before and despite how guilty Ludwig feels he can't get further than simply mentioning the topic before Gilbert either walks away or throws something at him to get him to shut up. The guilt sits on Ludwig like a stone, pushing down on his chest. His brother had a life, had a future, and he gave it all way to become this, an engineer's whipping boy for a brother who can't even sit up most of the time let alone pull his own weight. Useless.

Gilbert throws a boot at his head and Ludwig yelps. 'Get rid of that look from your face, I'm doing this because I want to, ya hear?'

Ludwig nods, because that's what his brother wants him to do.

'Good. Besides, it wouldn't have been half as bad if the head engineer wasn't such a dick. Rumour is that there's a boy genius on board we picked up at the last stop but when ol' Stevie went to get him to help the boy turned him down.' Gilbert gives a scoff. 'He's got balls, whoever he is. Either that or he's an idiot. Besides, if they'd let me have a look at it I could've probably done it.'

Ludwig rolls his eyes but refrains from saying anything further. He leaves Gilbert to undress and unwind in silence, only speaking to him again once he's sure his brother has relaxed enough.

'What if nothing changes, when we get to Earth.'

Gilbert, from where he's sprawled himself in their chair, visibly stiffens. He's obviously considered this too, then. Maybe the possibility has been on his mind just as much as it's been praying on Ludwig's. How could it not? 'It will.'

'But-'

'It will!' Gilbert has clenched his e-tab tighter, Ludwig can see the whites of his knuckles from here. 'It will, so there's no point worrying about it.'

Ludwig breathes deeply. 'It's something we've got to think about.' He says gently. If not for him, for what Gilbert will do next.

Gilbert curls his lip and refuses to look up. He prods his tab awake with more force than is needed. 'No, it's not. If it don't work, if you still can't do anything more than roll about, then at least you'll be better off than home.'

'I might be, but what about you?'

'What about me?' Finally, Gilbert looks up and he's furious. Gilbert is very free with his emotions, but never has anything negative been directed towards Ludwig before and it startles him. 'You think I was happy back there? Just because I was strong enough for them? Well you're just as fucking stupid as they were if that's so.' He stands up, crosses the room and starts to pull on his boots again.

'Gilbert-'

'You were wasting away there.' Gilbert's voice cuts though Ludwig like a knife because it's the truth, no matter how much he tries to deny it. 'They were happy to let you die if that's what it came to and I somehow was supposed to not care about that. It was fine, right? As long as they had one of us. But that meant I had to be everything, Lud. I had to be both of us and both of us had to be fucking perfect.'

Gilbert looks at him, curled up pathetically in bed and shakes his head at him, face unreadable. 'What kind of life is that?'

Boots on he wrenches open the door and walks out with a bang, leaving Ludwig mortified. How selfish of him.

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vidkid20ssimblrlair · 4 years

Text

Episode 23: Keep Your Enemies Closer

"Morning," Madison beamed peeking out the door with a mug in her hand. She appeared to be in a good mood, but her expression change to one of concern with one look at me. She furrowed her brow. "Are you ok?"

"I'm... I'm fine," I grunted.

I knew I had to look like shit. I didn't sleep a wink. Didn't even nod. Gemma didn't move the whole night, but I didn't take my eyes off of her. Not once. I had to admit I was scared of her. Maybe I was prejudging her based on what happened in the junkyard, but her behavior last night didn't calm my concerns. In fact, I felt strangely threatened.

"Are you sure you ok?" she said looking even more worried as she stepped out on the porch. She looked me over. "You...you look pale."

"I'm fine."

She turned around and looked down at Gemma. She was still sleeping. Quiet as a mouse actually. She sat down beside me and handed me the mug. Her voice a whisper. "Well, how things go with her? Did she give you any trouble?"

"Well, she acted strange. Bizarre actually. The way she talks. Just everything. Frankly, she give me the creeps."

"Oh, God. What did she do?"

"Well, let's see. She talked about you being unhinged and then she said I remind her of her boyfriend. Then she caressed my face."

"What?"

"Oh, why hello," Gemma chirped catching the two of us off guard. She lifted up and smiled. "You should have woke me up, Nathan. I didn't know Madison was here."

I looked over at her feeling flushed. Just the sight of her grinning from ear to ear was intimidating. Her eyes then landed on my mug as I took a long nice sip of the piping hot joe.

"Can I have a sip?"

Madison answered for me. "No."

"Nothing like coffee in the morning though," she said nonchalantly as she rolled up her sleeping bag. She then twirled her hair on her finger and chuckled. "Were you guys talking about me?"

Madison scoffed. "You should know. You were probably listening."

"And what would give you that idea?" she asked innocently sounding all too fake.

Madison scowled at her but turned back to me. She rubbed my shoulder and smiled. "Go inside and get you some rest. You had a long night."

The idea sure sounded nice, but my pride and lack of sleep was clouding my judgment. Besides, Matthew wanted me to be more involved and step up. Slinking off back into the house while they decide would just prove Gemma right. No, I wanted to be here for whatever they decided on.

"No. You can't just leave me out," I said bitterly. "Don't I have a say in the matter?"

Madison frowned. "Of course. I just thought you might want to get some rest. I can always fill you and Matt in..."

"Oh, so Matt put you solely in charge now? You make the decisions and you just fill us in?"

Madison looked taken aback but continued. "No. That's not what I meant at all. No one put me in charge of anything. I'm just worried about you is all. You've been up all night. You need to rest."

"I don't need rest. I'm fine. I'm not leaving. I have just as much say on this matter as you do, so I'm staying."

Madison looked confused, but let it go and remained strangely quiet. Gemma, on the other hand, looked smug and that irritated me more than Madison trying to brush me off.

"You said we were keeping her out of our discussions. Why is she still here?" I snapped.

Madison seemed to take this personal too regrettably. She looked sad, but she said nothing. She turned around to the window and knocked on it loudly. She then shouted. "Luther!"

Mr. Jones then appeared at the door. He greeted us cheerfully as usual. "Hello, good people."

"She's wake," Madison murmured.

"Ah, good. Ms. Gemma, I would like to speak with you inside if that's ok. Just like to have a nice chat to see if you would be a good fit here."

"Oh, that's fine Mr. Jones. I've been looking forward to talking to you anyway," she gushed.

She stood up and took his arm. As they stepped into the house, she looked back at us smirking.

The two of them then disappeared into the home leaving the two of us alone. I felt instantly relieved. A little awkward, but relieved.

"Madison. I'm...I'm sorry. Thank you for the coffee," I said offering a verbal olive branch.

She smiled. "It's...it's fine. Aaron made the coffee. He was worried about you."

"Really? I guess that explains the bitterness of it."

"Yeah, I was worried about you too you know. I'm sorry if I seem like..."

"It's ok. I'm just a little grumpy I guess."

"Like your brother?"

"Don't insult me. He's grumpy 24/7!"

We laughed and she turned to me looking suddenly stern. "As much as I would like to know what happened last night, I want to pass an idea off on you quickly while we're alone."

"Huh? What you mean?"

"Gemma. What should we do with her? I was thinking we might need to do something drastic."

"Like what?"

"Well...um... execute her. Take her out before she becomes a danger to us."

I gasped. "You mean kill her?!

"Not so loud," she whispered. "But yes. It would solve the whole kicking her out and coming back scenario."

"You're insane! We can't just kill someone!"

"Why not? Our justice system did as much.”

"Yeah, with fair trials and humane executions!"

"I personally think we would be doing her a favor. No more running. No more walkers."

"Yeah, I'm sure she's just dying to be killed."

She frowned. "Is that sarcasm and a horrible pun?"

"We're talking about killing a living and breathing human being, Madison!"

"No we're talking about eliminating a problem and that's the only way to do it. I don't hear you offering up any ideas."

"Who else have you ran this idea by?"

"Matthew, Vince, Lin, and I sort of mentioned it to DJ last night but he got kind of upset and went to bed."

"Good God. I bet he did."

"Well, Matthew reacted a lot like you did, but he took it better than I thought he would. Then Vince was sort of onboard. Lin too. I think they want revenge for what happened and they agreed that Gemma is a threat," she said. "But I already know Mr. Jones won't go for it and I don't think I can convince him, so I'm not entirely sure what to do."

"What we do is not kill. That's what we do."

She sighed and we heard the door beside me creep open. DJ and Audrey stepped out. They looked over the porch and back at us. Both with serious expressions on their faces.

"Enough." DJ boomed glaring at both of us. “Nate’s right. What we do here is not kill, so squash it.”

“You..?”

“Yeah, we overheard you two.”

I gasped. "Oh, God."

Audrey shrugged. "I'm perfectly fine with it though if it comes to that."

"It won’t come to that,” he said sounding almost incensed. "I told her last night. It will not come to that!"

Madison scoffed. "How you figure that?”

“Because it won’t. It can’t!”

“Why can it?”

“Because I said so, so drop it!”

“I understand taking a life is difficult, but sometimes it’s necessary. Especially now. For example, this place. It’s like gold. People will kill for it. Kill you for it. One day or another you’re going have to defend yourself and people may get hurt. Someone may even die. You’re going get blood on your hand like it or not. This is a dog eat dog world now, DJ.”

“You don’t think I know that, Madison?! I’ve killed before to keep this place from danger. I’ve seen death face to face. This wouldn’t be my first rodeo, so don’t lecture me on that. What I’m saying is I will not allow another person to die needlessly on this property.”

“Needlessly?! Whoa! Wait? You’ve killed before? Here?!”

He leaned on the banister and sighed. "Yes. One night a man covered in blood came here looking for shelter. There was a slight language barrier as he spoke Spanish, but from what I gathered his wife had been bitten and that she had fallen ill. Said he had left her to find help. He had been the first stranger I had encountered when this all happened and I had heard so many horror stories. We also had just lost my grandfather’s nurse and housekeeper to a biter, so I was still pretty shaken up. I was afraid. There was no way I was letting him in, but he begged and he begged. Still not understanding him, he became loud. Finally, I had enough and told him to get off my property. He pulled out a gun. I shot first. The look on his face. I will never forget it."

"What happened to his wife?" Audrey asked looking solemnly.

"I don't know. She turned maybe? I don't know. I can’t help, but think now if I had just let him in maybe things might have turned out differently.”

“DJ..I’m..I’m sorry. I no idea,” Madison stuttered.

He continued. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. All I know is grandpa banned guns on the property that night. Told me to never spill blood on this land again and that I must repent. So the killing talk needs to stop. It’s not going happen, so enough."

As he said this, Wade appeared at the door. He shot DJ a look but stepped on to the porch. He looked from one to the other. A hint of suspicion flashing across his face.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?!"

"Nothing!" Audrey blurted out abruptly.

"What?"

"Yeah. We were just talking about Gemma and how we should follow the rules," DJ said emphasizing the last part as he cut his eye at Madison. "You know no guns or murder!"

"I heard you the first time," she mumbled. She stood up. "We were just talking about what to do with Gemma”

"Gemma? Murder? What are you guys going on about?" he drawled. Everyone went silent. He crossed his arms and his mouth went agape. "Noo. No. You...you were talking about killing Gemma weren't you? Are you nuts?!"

"Wade..."

"Talking about murdering people?!"

DJ seethed. "Shut up both of you. You're being too loud. The whole neighborhood can hear you!"

"I'm pretty sure the neighbors are dead," I joked getting nothing, but eye-rolling and dirty looks back. “Sorry.”

"Regardless, the old man is going to flip his lid if he hears us. If he even catches wind of this, we're done."

"No, we're done. Not you," Wade said. He glared at Madison. "But that's what she does. Everywhere we go, she sabotages it."

"I sabotage it? Like how? We've only been to one other place together, Wade. Where we had the displeasure of meeting."

"Yeah and you messed that up. You just had to find out the truth about what was going on there. You just had to stick your nose into that Sargent's business."

"Yeah, and if it wasn't for me finding the truth you might be cut up into little pieces for the Sargent's dead son. Oh and that's if the giant herd hadn't killed you!"

"Enough!" DJ snapped. "No one is killing anyone anyway, so let's just drop it. What we need is a real plan that plays by the rules."

The door opened and we all turned our heads to see Omar standing there. He smirked, “Arguing as usual I see. I can hear you two a mile away.”

"See!"

"Sorry. We were just waiting to hear Wade's genius plan," Madison scoffed. "So what is it? What's your idea, huh? Let her stay so she can give you more fake compliments and flirt with you."

"Actually, yes."

"What?!"

"Not for those reasons, but it's the only choice," he said earnestly. He sat down on the bench and continued. "I went over it in my head. At first, I thought we should just send her on her way with some supplies. Tell her if she ever came back we would shoot her on-site. Then it came to me. We should play the long game."

"The what?"

"We play the long game. Have you ever heard of the saying ‘keep your friends close, but enemies closer?’ Well, we let her stay and see what shit we can get out of her about these Vulture people. Follow her every move if we have to. She’s bond to slip up!”

"Oh, so you're willing to stay under the same roof as her? Wade, she can slit our throats in the night as we sleep. Not to mention she’s probably spying on us!"

"So killing her is going to solve all our problems? Ok, we kill her. Then what? You think that’s just going be it? That we're free? No. It’ll just get worse. Her group will go to contact her and she won’t answer. They'll go looking for her. Maybe they’ll find out she’s dead before they even set foot here. They’ll want revenge. People like that just don’t let things go, Madison!"

"We have people we have to protect here. Injured people!"

"And you're right, which is why my plan is safer."

"Safer?!"

"If we kill her they’ll bring their guns and their tank of our car. They’ll kill every one of us if they can! Injured and non-injured. We can protect ourselves from one measly woman. At least better than an army of them."

"It only takes one person to destroy what we've built here. She'll destroy us!"

Omar cleared his throat. "May I say something? Well, you both make valid points, but I can't condone killing her. The good book said thou shall not kill and I still believe in that. Grace would still believe in that. I know it's probably foolish to even think that way still, but I want to believe we can still believe in something. Besides, haven't we seen enough death? I know I have."

"Wise as ever my friend. Well, Madison," he said meeting her eyes. She shrugged looking defeated. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Look, I'm not saying it's going be easy, but we have to be smart. We can't protect this place if we get kicked out you know. Then they win anyway."

"If I get kicked out you mean. It would be me as I would take full responsibility."

"Well, that's mighty kind of you but I'm not getting stuck babysitting the tweedle Dum and tweedle Dee twins. You're part of this group and your home is with us, like it or not."

"Tweedle Dum and tweedle Dee? You do know I'm still here and I can hear you right?!" I injected.

"So what do we do?"

"Well, killing her is not an option!" DJ persisted. "So.."

Madison groaned. "Fine. We're going with Wade's plan and fake it till we figure out something else I guess."

Wade grinned. "Finally, you're talking some sense. Thanks to me of course."

"Don't gloat. You're already unbecoming."

We shared a good laugh as Wade looked on unamused, but a knock on the window behind me broke up the light mood. I looked back to see Tao staring at us from inside.

"Yo! Jones and Red are coming!"

"Thank ya," Wade answered waving. "I told him to warn us."

"Well, what now?" Madison mumbled.

"Act normal. Remember we want her to think she's our friend. Get her nice and comfy here. Lure here into a false sense of security. She's bound to..."

"Yeah. Yeah. She bound to slip up. Well, she better Wade Dunn or I'm going to..."

She stopped mid-sentence as she heard the unmistakable sound of Luther's voice and Gemma. Everyone seemed to scramble off as if they were finding their places in a play. All of us seemingly finding it hard to smile as our expressions were a mixture of smirks and poker faces. Madison though stood in front and placed the perfect fake smile on her face just as the two of them came out on the porch.

Luther stepped out first. He clearly seemed to enjoy his chat with Gemma. Then Gemma who had the same silly grin she usually sported.

"Why hello everyone," she beamed surveying the scene before her. Her eyes then fell solely on Madison. "And someone seems to be in a better mood."

"Oh, I am," Madison said through gritted teeth. She closed her eyes and let out an audible sigh. She then flashed an even bigger grin. "Well, we were just talking about you and we all decided it would be nice if you stayed."

Previous Episode

I made a ton of poses for this. Hope you can tell. :)

This is the ending you chose. The two people who did vote. xD The outcome of the other scenario will be explained.

#sims 3 Dead on Arrival #ts3 dead on arrival #sims 3 doa #ts3 doa #dead on arrival season 2 #doa season 2 #sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 simblr #ts3 simblr #simblr #sims 3 story #ts3 story

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milkchu · 5 years

Text

❝anyway the wind blows❞ ♔ fourteen.

Summary: (Y/N) Mercury’s journey of love, fame, and pain, alongside what would become one of the most legendary bands ever, Queen.

Pairing: Borhap!Queen x Reader, eventual Brian May x Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of dying and drinking, fighting. THIS IS IT, GUYS.

⇦ previous chapter // series masterlist // next chapter ⇨

“Convinced our voices can’t be heard,” You sang out, your voice cracking a little bit, “You just wanna scream it louder and louder and louder.”

“What the hell are we fighting for?”

You hand came up to your throat, feeling a warm ache as you sang the next lyric, “Ah, just surrender and it won’t hurt at all,” before finally holding a finger up, gesturing for them to stop playing.

“Yup,” Deacy said before looking over to Brian, “Let’s call it, yeah?”

Shaking your head, “Sorry,” you let out a light chuckle, “I sound like shit.”

“You all are lovely, you sound good,” You smiled to everyone, placing your microphone back on the stand, “Been a while.”

Holding onto your throat, you tried to clear it again, “My throat feels like a vulture’s crotch.”

Each of them let out a chuckle before Roger said, “We still got a week. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah, we’re in a good place, (Y/N/N),” Brian added, “You just need a bit of rest, that’s all,” He looked towards you, your back facing them, before you softly replied, “Yeah.”

Eventually the three of them got into their own conversation, your heart beginning to beat faster than normal as you looked up to Miami, who had a knowing look on his face.

Your stomach hurt with anticipation, but you still fought it. Nodding subtly at Miami, you turned towards them, “Before you leave…”

“Could I have a second?”

“Yeah. What’s up?” Roger asked.

Before you could chicken out and turn away from them, you blurted out, “I’ve got it.”

Each of their faces held a confused look, Deacy shaking his head before asking, “Got what?”

“I’m dying.”

“I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Deacy immediately felt tears rush through his eyes, sighing and looking up at the windows to avoid breaking down in tears in front of you.

Roger just felt numb, frozen in place, staring at you in shock, secretly begging you to break out in laughter and laugh at their reactions to the joke you just made.

As much as Brian was thrashing on the inside, he contained himself, though the ache he felt in his chest couldn’t be ignored, he resorted to looking down at the floor, biting his lip before looking back up to you, “(Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

“Brian, stop.”

You shook your head, “Don’t.”

“For right now… it’s between us,” You smiled softly at them, “All right? Just us.”

“So, please… if any of you fuss about it or frown about it, or worst of all, if you bore me with your sympathy, that’s just seconds wasted. Seconds that could be used making music… which is all I want to do with the time I have left.”

“I don’t have time to be their victim, the face of a front-page news cover, the poor, sickly, dying girl…”

“No. I decide who I am,” You looked at the three of them, your mouth curling up into a small smile, “I’m going to be what I was born to be.”

“A performer… who gives the people what they want.”

“Touch of the heavens,” You pointed your finger up, a smile gracing its way to Brian’s lips while Deacy nodded, tears pouring down his cheeks, but with his own smile.

“(Y/N) fucking Mercury.”

“You’re a legend, (Y/N),” Roger said.

“You’re bloody right I am. We’re all legends.”

“But you’re right, I am a legend,” You added, making the three burst out in laughter, “Now you give me a chance to get my bitchy little vocal cords in order…”

“And we’ll go and punch a hole through the roof of that stadium.”

“Actually, Wembley doesn’t have a roof,” Deacy corrected, all of you letting out a chuckle before Brian added with a strained voice, a tight-lipped smile on his face, “He’s right, it doesn’t.”

“Then we’ll punch a hole in the sky,” You raised your arm up.

After putting your arm down, you walked towards the three of them, Brian bringing his arm around your shoulders before you all circled together in a hug.

“Now, even though you’re crying like three little girls… I still love you,” You grinned, Brian’s hand patting your hair.

Before you could break down in tears yourself, you pulled away, “All right, enough of this.”

“Drink?”

“Yes!”

“Or ten,” Deacy replied, sniffing.

Church bells rang loudly as both white doves and rice flew everywhere, showering the newly-wed couple in all of the guests’ best wishes for them.

Leaning against the bark of the tree that was several feet away from the church’s main entrance, you smiled softly as you watched the happy couple, your face hiding under the large, black hat that rested on your head.

Hearing the sound of grass crunching nearby, you looked to your side before chuckling softly, “You know, your hair gives it away all the time.”

Brian let out a chuckle as he stood next to you before you continued, “Still not thinking of cutting it?”

He shook his head, “Never.”

“I can already see seventy-something year old Brian Harold May, still rocking the curly hair,” You joked, Brian letting out a laugh before you mumbled, “It is one of your best features anyway.”

Warmth rushed to your cheeks immediately, realizing what you just said, before Brian cleared his throat, changing the subject for you, “They look so happy,” He watched the two lovers at the front, before looking over to you, many things running through his mind at that short moment.

“They do,” You watched as the couple took pictures, before you let out a light chuckle, “I always thought that I would be here for this.”

“Just not in this way,” You shook your head, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, (Y/N),” Brian sighed, before bringing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

You let out a sniff, before rubbing your eyes, “All right, let’s not waste life on sadness, now,” You chuckled, Brian joining along, but keeping his arm around you.

“How about a drink at my place, huh? Rog and Deacy are probably too busy having their own drinks with their wives,” He chuckled.

You looked up at him with a smile, “I would love that.”

As you passed by the main entrance, you couldn’t help but look over to the couple. On him.

Matthew smiled at the guests, thanking them for coming, while his lovely bride, Daisy held onto his arm, giggling at whatever her friend told her.

He looked around, trying to find you, before his eyes finally locked with yours, his lips curling up into a smile as he saw you walking away with Brian.

You sent him a sweet smile, your eyes filling up with tears again, with joy this time.

In that moment, you thanked him. For everything. Taking care of you, putting up with all your shit, all those times you made love with one another, all the sweet, unforgettable memories you’ve made together, all the pain you’ve went through together, and for making you feel loved. Truly loved.

Thank you, Matthew Adams.

As if he read your mind, Matthew nodded his head your way, with the most genuine and heartfelt smile on his face, Thank you, (Y/N) Mercury.

Before finally walking away from him.

While you and Brian walked towards to his car, your eyes were locked on him, the rays of setting sun in the sky shining through his curls.

“What?” Brian chuckled, noticing you staring.

You giggled as you shook your head, “Nothing.”

“Is anyone home?” You asked Brian as you stepped through his front door, entering his large home.

“Dianne,” Brian replied, “Goes back to Chrissie’s in a couple days.”

“Auntie (Y/N)!” A tiny voice cheered, before you felt little arms wrap around your legs.

You let out a giggle, “Hello there, little darling,” You kneeled down to her level, wrapping your arms around her tiny figure, “How’s my favorite troublemaker?”

“Better now that you’re here!”

“Oh yeah, ignore your dad, why don’t you?” Brian huffed.

The four-year old let out a cute giggle, before switching to her dad’s legs, wrapping her arms around them, “Daddy!”

Brian kneeled down to pick his daughter up, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Hello there, munchkin.”

Putting her back down on the floor, Brian added, “Why don’t you go get your fine works of art and show Auntie (Y/N)?”

“Okay, daddy!” Dianne cheered, before her little feet start running up the stairs to her bedroom.

Later on, you were both sat down on the living room floor, Dianne showing you all her drawings, whilst Brian sat down on the couch behind you, watching you both.

“See the angry lion? That’s Uncle Roger,” Her tiny finger pointed at the hand drawn lion that was burning with anger as shown by the excessive use of a red crayon, “And the other lion, the nice one? That’s Uncle Deacy.”

You giggled at the drawings that were somewhat accurate to real life, “You’re going to be a wonderful artist one day, Didi.”

“You really think so, Auntie (Y/N)?” She looked up at you with glimmer in her innocent eyes, Eyes that were undoubtedly her father’s.

You placed a soft kiss on her forehead, “I know so.”

Brian smiled softly as he watched you interact with his daughter, he never thought he’d say this but, you would definitely make an amazing mother.

“Yay!” She cheered, “I have one last drawing! A new one!”

“Let’s see it, then,” You clapped.

Dianne then brought out a picture of three people holding hands, the figure with a lot of brown swirly lines along its head was obviously her father, the little figure in the middle being her, and the other figure of a woman, “Is that your mommy?”

“Mm-mm,” She shook her head, “That’s you, Auntie (Y/N)!”

Looking at the drawing more intently, you felt your heart become warm. Especially at the thought of having a family like that. With someone.

But before you could compliment her on her newest masterpiece, Brian interjected, “All right, now. It’s way past your bedtime, young lady.”

Dianne pouted, “But, daddy!”

You let out a soft giggle, stroking her hair softly, “Don’t worry, next time, we’ll draw together, but now, you have to go to sleep so you can have enough energy!”

Her pout grew into a excited grin, “Okay, Auntie (Y/N)!” before marching up to her bedroom.

As soon as Dianne left the room, Brian asked, “She only listens to you, you know?”

“Maybe I should be her mother then?” You joked, before plopping down on the couch, beside Brian.

You both laughed before Brian stood up to walk to get some drinks, and as soon as he got back and handed you your drink, you felt the air become thick.

“It’s been hard,” Brian took a gulp of his drink, “Not getting to see Dianne all the time.”

“Chrissie has her on most of the days. Me being so busy with the band and all. I bet it’s hard for Didi too, always moving, not having both her parents all the time.”

You sighed, “It is hard. But she’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah. She seems to like you a lot, though,” Brian chuckled.

“Like me? Darling, please, she loves me,” You replied, “I am her favorite person in the world after all.”

A chorus of laughter bursted from the two of you, and from there you just talked about random things, like talking shit about that one asshole that you left distressed at Munich.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Brian asked, his shirt almost completely unbuttoned whilst your jacket was thrown off to the side.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Live life to the fullest? Is that what people say?,” You let out a light chuckle, before taking a sip of your drink, “As long it’s with you, Rog, and Deacy, of course.”

Brian smiled softly, “Of course, I’ll always be by your side, (Y/N).”

Looking over to him, you reached for his hand, gently stroking the back with your thumb, “Thank you, Brian.”

You continued to look at him. For the first time in fifteen years, you got a proper look at him. Brian Harold May. One of your best mates ever since you formed the band. And now someone you would want to spend the remaining years of your--

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ripped your hand away from his.

“What do you mean, (Y/N)?” Brian asked, a look of concern on his face because of your sudden change of mood.

You slammed your glass down the coffee table and stood up, “Did you even notice?” You pointed your finger at him in anger.

Brian stood up, shaking his head, “Notice what, (Y/N)? Fuck’s sake, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Paul. Everything. Everything that’s been ruining me! Ruining my life!” You shouted, tears burning the edges of your eyes before you broke down and let everything pour out of you.

It was the first time Brian saw you cry like that. The first time you broke your walls down in front of him. Your real emotions.

Kneeling down in front of you, he tried to pat your shoulder but then you shoved it away. You had a little too much to drink but he knew that everything you said was real. And it hit him hard.

So, Brian finally did what he should have, he wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you to his chest, resting his chin atop your head.

You thrashed around, and just punched him everywhere in his grip but he stood still, and let you pour everything out on him.

Your fists kept hitting him in his chest, “Why didn’t you do anything, Brian?” You sobbed, “I needed you. I fucking needed you every fucking time.”

“But, you never needed me,” Your red eyes looked up at him.

“That’s not true, (Y/N),” Brian said, looking at you with his own tears in his eyes, “I always needed you.”

“But why the fuck didn’t you do anything?”

“Because,” He gulped, “I was so fucking stupid and blinded by everything. I was selfish, I thought that thinking you were fine would feel better and hurt less than actually seeing what’s behind everything. I was a stupid fucking idiot, (Y/N).”

He looked down at you, “I knew I had a choice. And I regret not taking that chance,” His thumb stroked your tear-stained cheek, “Now, I’d rather die than seeing you get hurt again.”

“Brian…”

“And I still am selfish, (Y/N),” Brian continued, “Because after all the pain I’ve caused you…”

“I still want you all to myself.”

And that’s when he broke down in tears, his face burying itself into your neck.

“I fucking need you in my life, (Y/N) Mercury,” He sobbed into your neck.

Feeling his tears run down your neck, you stroked his curly hair a few times before pulling him back, “How dare you?”

Brian looked up at you, “I know, I’m so fucking sorry, (Y/N)--”

“How dare you make me wait this long for you to say that?”

“What?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brian, It’s 1985! We met in 1970, so it took you fifteen years to actually say those words to my face?”

“I don’t understand-”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me, you wanker.”

And he did.

Like he should have when he first saw you at the pub.

a/n: omg omg omg idfk what to feel about this chapter omgshdmfogod whatthefucktheufuck

tags: @b-hardys // @spideyyypeter // @hunterswearingplaid // @livingforrt // @bensrhapsody // @jennyggggrrr // @little-weirdo-13 // @kemeryyyy // @yoonlatte // @geek-and-proud // @everything-you-dont-wanna-be // @itsametaphorbriansblog // @marequeenii // @killer-queen-xo // @jedi-dreea // @achernarsaa // @nevaeh-potter15 // @banana-tree-freddiemercury // @rogertaylorssunglasses // @pyrotechnic789 // @mirkwoodshewolf // @stuff-exists // @toger-raylor // @langdonzvoid // @imamazzellhoe // @tbird20165 // @theswedishblonde // @oliviaharddyy // @sunflower-borhap-boys // @rocknrollsavedmysoul13 // @sincereleygmg // @mylifeissucky123 // @teenwolflover28 // @perrythefrickinplatypus // @deakysmisfire // @simonedk // @rockyroadthepastryarchy // @warren-lauren // @sarai-ibn-la-ahad // @danny-fucking-mercury // @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen // @gracelynn318 // @sargent-barnes // @anonymouse-not-so-anonymous

[i couldn’t tag some of you for some reason :/]

#atwb #hardyzello #queen #queen band #borhap #bohemian rhapsod #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #roger taylor #ben hardy #john deacon #joe mazzello

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yaachtynoboat711 · 5 years

Text

Fonder Ch. 4

A/N: Aight so boom: I hope y’all are enjoying this series so far. It’s definitely pushing me out of my fluffy comfort zone. Thanks to everyone who I’ve annoyed had be my third pair of eyes and offered suggestions for these chapters. I appreciate y’all big time. Also, I apologize for the two-week gap between the chapters. I just started school after a semester break, so I’m trying to get adjusted and find my rhythm. Thanks in advance for being patient!

Word Count: ~2.9K (a hair lengthy)

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn, plot progression

Thursday, October 23, 2014, 2:19 p.m., Elements Natural Hair Boutique, Los Angeles

Since she was finally finished with the nearly four month long legal project, Yaa now had a little over a week left in sunny California to do whatever she wanted. Tonight was her self-appointed reward for knocking the project out of the park and earning more clients. The Los Angeles chapter of the Black Yale Alumni Association was hosting their annual fundraising gala. All the BYAA chapters hosted their events the same weekend, the Connecticut event being the flagship event. Around this time last year, Yaa was preparing her ensemble for the Black Ball, totally oblivious to the fact that she would meet her soulmate at the Ball. What a difference a year makes.

“So, who are you taking as your plus one tonight?”, her loctician Nadia inquired as she intricately palm-rolled Yaa’s copper hued locs.

“Matt.”, Yaa announced giving a smirk as she kept reading the latest issue of Essence Magazine. Nadia’s eyebrows went up as she smirked.

“Damn hussy. Speaking of exes, how’s it going with you and Island Boy?”

“Things are getting...better.”

Since her breakdown, Khalida had seen a therapist. Her therapist recommended that for her sake,it’d be best to talk to Winston and try to establish a sturdy friendship. They planned to meet the afternoon after the Yale gala.

“Word? I’m happy for you, sis. Even more, you deserve someone in your life. Shit, you got the personality, smarts, and the looks to have niggas running over each other to get to you.”

Yaa spent the time under the dryer to think about what her loctician said. Her deep thoughts were interrupted with an incoming FaceTime call from Matt.

“Hey, lil ugly.”, Matt playfully chided.

“Well, if it isn’t the NECKS big thing in football. What’s good?”, Yaa snapped back. Matt’s jaw dropped when he finally processed her insult.

“Damn, fuck you, Khay. Anyways, I called to see where we would get ready at? My house or yours?” She almost didn’t hear the last question because she was snickering so.

“Well, according to the GPS, it’s in Calabasas, so I’ll be coming to you. My makeup cases are in the car now and I’m picking my dress up on the way.”

Matt shook his head, “Say less, ma. You getting those serpents tamed for the gala, I see.” He thought that the funniest thing in the world. Before he could say anything else, she hung up. I ain’t got time for his no-neck having ass.

5:00 p.m., Calabasas, California, Matt’s House

Yaa was welcomed into Matt’s spacious mansion with the sounds of hip-hop bouncing off the walls and an excited Matt embracing her.

“You look like you getting ready to fight somebody.”, Matt commented as he took the garment bag from his ex-girlfriend’s arms. She wore her smaller black bonnet, along with a Tuskegee shirt, black yoga capris, and Birkenstock’s.

“And you look like you can’t change a goddamn pillowcase. I keep telling you to leave well enough alone, Griffith.”, she replied as she gave him the “Who gon check me, boo?” look. He shook his head as he led her upstairs to his bathroom.

——

The lion-like revving of Matt’s Karma Revero engine could be heard all along the winding Calabasas back road he decided to take to the gala. He effortlessly finessed the bends and sharp turns of the road in an effort to impress Yaa. He’d had the car for not even a month and was already showing off. He occasionally glanced at the meal that sat in his passenger seat.

“I think I already told you, but you lookin’ hella delicious, ma.”, Matt complimented.

“Why, thank you, Matthew. I try to be as fresh as you.”, she humbly replied.

He took her hand into his and smiled before kissing it. “What’s that perfume you got on? It’s intoxicating.”

“Your cologne.”, she stated bluntly. The two looked at each other and laughed obnoxiously.

“You never cease to amaze me after all these years, Khay. I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

“Nigga, I ain’t dying. Ima be around when and if I can. R E L A X.”

8:49 p.m., Calabasas Country Club

If you didn’t know that this was an alumni fundraising gala, most would assume that it was an actual Hollywood event. The sound of camera shutters, camera people shouting at those melanated beings gracing the carpet, and the numerous interviews being conducted at the end of the carpet set the vibe of the night. Once again: Black Excellence.

Matt parked his car in front of the country club, he tossed the keys to the valet before reaching for his velvet maroon blazer. Before the valet driver could get in, he stopped him. “Hold on, boss. I got precious cargo in the passenger seat.” He ran over to Yaa’s side where he slowly opened her door. She offered her hand and he helped her out of the car, gathering her train with his other hand.

The BLUE carpet went up the moment Matt Griffith and his date walked onto the carpet. He held Yaa close to him by her waist as they went down the carpet once more as a duo. She followed suit by tickled his side, causing him to laugh.

“You gon stop, ma’am.”, he warned as she joined in his laughter.

————

Winston was wary of bringing Michelle to the gala. Not because she wasn’t Black, but he was nervous Yaa would show up looking like God’s divine example of perfection. For the small amount of time Winston and Michelle dated, he never divulged the details of his previous relationship with her. For one, it still hurt to talk about the biggest mistake he’d ever made; and two, he feared Michelle would get extremely jealous. Truthfully, Winston hoped Yaa would be there; he wanted to talk and possibly get closure.

“Winston, is Lupita coming?”, Michelle asked shaking Winston out of his thoughts.

“Uhhh...last I checked, she should be here now.”, he replied.

“Is your mysterious ex coming?”

He throat tightened and palms began to sweat. “I doubt it; she’s in D.C. by now. Why?”

“I mean, from the little you’ve told me about her, she’s a Yale grad and a traveler. Speaking of, why don’t you talk about her?”, she folded her arms in anticipation of the answer.

He probably wasn’t in reality, but he felt like he was sweating bullets. “It’s just that...the relationship could’ve ended on better terms.”, he sighed, “I just need closure, is all. I’ve been spending this time processing everything. I think I’m good now.” He was lying like all hell.

Winston felt a presence in the room. He and Michelle migrated around the venue talking and socializing with the other Black Yale grads. While in a conversation with one of his classmates and Lupita, he heard a laugh. Not just any laugh; the only vibrant, contagious social laugh he could recognize from miles away. Once again, it was her. He resisted the urge to look for her.

Noticing her friend’s sudden switch in energy, Lupita turned around to see a foxy Yaa dazzling for all to see. She excused herself from the conversation and walked over to Yaa. She tapped her shoulder.

“Heyyyyy, Khalida!”, Lupita greeted with a grin and open arms.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Academy Award Winner! I’m surprised you’re not like polishing your Oscars or filming.”, Yaa joked as she returned the hug. “You look phenomenal, Peet!”, she twirled Lupita around to get a better look of her blue ensemble.

“Not as phenomenal as you! Wow, you know how to slay anything and I’m here for it!”

Matt cleared his throat. “You need a cough drop?”, Yaa asked in a sarcastic tone. He gave her a look.

“I’m sorry. I forgot he was here. Lupita, this is my ex, Matt Griffith, NFL star. Matt, this is the most beautiful woman in existence and Academy Award-winning actress, Lupita Nyong’o.”

After their exchange of pleasantries, Lupita took Yaa to the side to inform her that Winston was also in attendance...with Michelle. As much as it hurt to hear those words come from Lupita’s mouth, Yaa sucked it up and the two returned to Matt.

“We’re going on a field trip, Matt. Come along.” Lupita commanded. Matt agreed and followed his date with her train.

Winston wasn’t paying attention; he was walking around talking with Michelle. He accidentally bumped into Lupita.

“Peet, I’m so sorry. I was talking to Michelle and wasn’t paying attention to...wh-where I...was...going.”, his thoughts and heart rate began to speed up as he looked at the sight in front of him: his ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Khalida.”, Winston said calmly.

“Hey, you.”, she basically whispered in a sultry tone.

“You look...sublime.”

“Oh? Interesting word choice, Mr. Duke.” She raised her eyebrow and gave a faint grin. Poor Winston was intoxicated with Khalida’s presence once more—a drug that he could never get out of his system even if his life depended on it. His eyes were fixed on her, breath staggering.

Yaa’s dress was everything: it was a black, long-sleeved, sequined, floor-length curve-hugging gown with a dramatic “v” neck that accentuated her well-endowed chest. A haute Morticia Addams. Nadia styled her locs into a mid bun with a pinned bang.

Michelle looked on as they conversed. It clicked—Khalida was the one that still had his heart. She wasn’t stupid; she could sense he was holding out in their relationship in more ways than one. Michelle cleared her throat loudly to break up the two former lovers’ sappy reunion.

“Winston, aren’t you going to introduce me to your...friend? ”, Michelle said with a slightly condescending tone, looking Yaa up and down with disgust. Yaa returned a rather unbothered stare to Michelle.

“Oh...of course, Winston began clearing his throat, “Yaa, this is my girlfriend, Michelle Lee, freelance journalist. Michelle, this...this is my...ex...girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah, Attorney at Law.”, he fought a smile.

Michelle grimaced. “Oh, a lawyer, you say? What kind of lawyer? Whose firm do you work for?”, she interrogated.

“I’m a civil rights attorney and I have my own firm with my partner and best friend from Yale Law.”

“Your own law firm? You look a little too young to own anything. How old are you?”

“Grown.”

“Did you even hear the quest—“

“— Loud and clear. I said I’m grown.” Yaa maintained her calm, yet petty demeanor throughout the unnecessary exchange. All the while, Matt and Lupita exchanged glances and silent snickers. Yaa was going to hold her own without hesitation. The Louisiana Reaper v. the bell pepper. “Winston, may I speak with you in private please?”

Winston looked to an upset Michelle that just waved her hand for him to go on. “After you, Dr. Abdullah.”,he calmly suggested as he motioned her to go in front of him.

Winston made sure to hold Yaa’s train. Winston became entranced as he watched his ex’s Spanx-less bottom switch from left to right. He felt a sweat come over him. Baby girl still had him sprung. They finally walked out to the balcony. The nighttime October breeze hit Yaa’s bare skin, sending goosebumps throughout her body. The bass still bumped even outside the country club. Even with the low lighting on the balcony, Yaa’s dress still sparkled in the moonlit sky. The two stood across from each other. A lot was on their minds and rightfully so. Four months had gone by without any sense of closure. The lack of closure was pacified with many questions, hypotheses, what-if situations, and many, many tearful nights on both ends.

“So uhh—“, the former lovers said in unison. They chuckled.

“You go first.”

“No, you!”

“No...you.”

“Dammit, Winston, somebody going first.”, Yaa said crossing her arms. “I just wanted to say that one, I miss you. Two, I’m happy for you finding Michelle. Lastly, LEMME FOUND OUT YOU OUTCHEA ACTIN YA ASS OFF ON PERSON OF INTEREST, MINI!”, Yaa hyped. She playfully punched his shoulder. There was a visible shift in her body language. She re-adjusted her posture and looked down at her dress. When she looked back up at Winston, he saw a rather stoic expression come across her face. “No, but...I wanted to just speak with you in private and I’m sure you’ve wanted the same. I miss you, Chris.”

Before he spoke, Winston offered his jacket to Yaa, an offer she accepted.

“I miss you more, Yaa.”, Winston replied quickly.

“The four months that we’ve had apart have had me thinking...a lot...a little too much. While the circumstances of our break-up hurt me more than anything, I don’t harbor any ill-will or harsh feelings towards you. I still care for and love you deeply.”

The admission gave Winston a temporary sense of relief. After four long months apart from the love of his life, it was definitely a relief to know that she didn’t want to push him over the balcony ledge. However, that feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the familiar void feeling in his heart—a void left by Yaa. He missed her more she would ever comprehend. He even missed her sarcasm and readings. By this time, he stood in front of her studying her stoic facial expression.

“I still love and care for you, too, Khalida.”, Winston replied.

“Which brings me to my next point”, she began. Winston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “This time apart has also given me the opportunity to contemplate our relationship from this point forward. My therapist...recommended that I reach out to you to establish something we never had—an actual friendship.”, Yaa explained. There was a steady pause and sharp exhale before the word “friendship” left her lips. It hurt her to see Winston with Michelle and even more to not be with him.

Winston blankly stared at Yaa. He saw, heard, and comprehended every word coming out of her Ruby Woo painted lips, but everything wasn’t registering.

“Friends?”

“That’s what I said. I believe we can work as friends and support each other despite our ending. You and Michelle seem like you all are getting into a rhythm and I don’t want to be your hindrance in your loving her.”

“Ok. Yeah...friendship? No problem.”, he noted dryly.

“Winston?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what you truly want? Because I don’t want to let our connection die.”

Winston shifted his weight and sighed before laughing. “Doesn’t want our connection to die...got it. Of course, we can work on a friendship.”, he remarked in a condescending tone. He was repeating that made him lose Yaa the first time. Yaa finally picked up the hints of sarcasm.

“Winston, I don’t know why you’re being condescending and cold towards me, but you need to stop. I just came to talk and try to amends with you and salvage what little we have left between us.” Yaa felt herself getting emotional and angry simultaneously.

Winston began pacing. “Oh, now you want to talk to me when it seemed easy to give me...give us up?!”

Yaa’s eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat began increasing and her petite frame began to tremble—she was beginning to see red. Her mouth opened to snap, but it quickly closed to save his ego and feelings. “I don’t want us to end on this note...again.”, she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you from me, Yaa. This isn’t exactly easy so stop making it look like that.”

Yaa thought long and hard on her next statement. Being a known wordsmith, she had to craft what she was going to say to make sure it would stick with Winston. That and her anger was on 100, so one wrong move and she’d snap. She finally began to speak barely above a whisper but not quite at normal speaking level.

“What I wanted from you was to make sure the plane wasn’t still malfunctioned. But...I see that it’s temporarily disabled. Whenever you get your head and your ego out of your ass, we can talk. The number won’t change. Good night, Mr. Duke.”

She briskly walked back inside of the country club, fighting tears and the urge to break down once more. She wasn’t going to force a grown ass man to do right; Khadijah and Carrie taught her better than that. Once again, his mouth and his ego ran Yaa off. Fuck, whatever happened to doing better and winning her back? The second walk-out hurt more than the first. This time, he was actually angry with himself. Out of nowhere, his fist made contact with the concrete wall. He roared out in pain as his knuckles bled. Not only was his hand in pain in excruciating pain, but so was his heart. Both injuries could’ve been prevented had he just shut up. The tears burned and clouded his eyes as he cried hysterically.

Yaa returned to find Lupita and Matt deep in conversation, Michelle was sitting down at one of the lounge tables. Right away, Matt noticed his date’s rather bubbly and sweet spirit had been messed with.

“Khay, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”, Matt placed his hand at the small of her back as he studied her visibly upset face. She was fighting back tears.

“Everything’s not ok. Let’s just go before I’ll need to dig Johnnie Cochran up from the dead.” Peet, I’ll text you whenever I can. Lunch is still on for tomorrow.”, she muttered in a monotonous tone.

Matt found himself running after his date as she angrily walked out of the venue. The plane was totaled.

Tag List:

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @theunsweetenedtruth @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @oshasimone @vibranium-soul @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @supersizemeplz @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston duke x oc #winston duke imagine #winston x yaa

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gothambatsnews · 6 years

Text

[Podcast Ep 3: Haunted Hot Spots]

TW: Mentions of suicide. Please read at your own risk.

[“Spoiler Alert!” theme song plays, there’s some side conversation that fades in.]

[Stephanie:] “...So then what was I supposed to do, stand there? Come on, you and I both know that’s bullsh-”

[Dick:] [Clears his throat.] “Steph? We’re on.”

[Stephanie:] “Huh? Oh, right right, sorry. Hello Gotham High School! I'm your host, Stephanie Brown and you're listening to Spoiler Alert! I’m here today - well actually tonight, with my co-host Dick Grayson. Hey Dick!”

[Dick:] “Hi Steph!” [It sounds obvious he’s smiling.] “What do we have in store for our lovely listeners, babe?”

[Stephanie:] [Snorts.] “Are you flirting with me?”

[Dick:] “Wouldn’t you like that, huh?”

[Stephanie:] [Gagging noises] “Gross. Babs, do you hear him? Anyways, tonight, we actually have a special episode because we’ll be talking about the three most haunted spots here in our very own Gotham City as a little celebration for Halloween month.”

[Dick:] “Ah yes! Sit tight, grab your little teddy bears, drink your agua and we’ll get right on it. Steph, would you like to start us off?”

[Paper shuffling, screaming in the background.]

[Stephanie:] “Don’t mind that, that’s just Damian and Tim having fun. But I would gladly start us off. So the first one on our list is Sionis Steel Mill. By the way, in no way are we telling you guys to go to these places, they are dangerous.”

[Dick:] “And very off-limits. Please don’t break the law.”

[Stephanie:] “Also a trigger warning for you guys. There are gonna be mentions of suicide in this episode, so if you don’t wanna hear any of them, I’d advise you to stop. So the steel mill was a factory located in the South Bank of Gotham. Had loading docks, it was surrounded by water and you could get there by a bridge. It ran in 1879 and employed lots of people.”

[Dick:] “So you could say it was lively, it had plenty of employees to keep it running. Was it successful?”

[Stephanie:] “Yes, it was.”

[Dick:] “So then why was it shut down? I mean, yeah of course we all know why, it was a spooky story told from elementary school, but for those who don’t know the story? Could you say what happened?”

[Stephanie:] “Of course. So from 1879, it was up and running and it was doing well up until in 1986 when the infamous Sionis Incident occurred. On a fine Gotham sunny day- which honestly isn’t saying much- there was a school who had their field trip there. And while they were given the tour of the place, five students decided they wanted to sneak away from the group. They thought the place would be fun to explore, but it wasn’t until they snuck into the boiling room. One of the boys fell into the big tub with the melted metal, pretty sure there’s a name for that, and died. There were horrible screams, leading the others to panic as they couldn’t save him.”

[Dick:] “Jeez. So then what? Did they call for help or something?”

[Steph:] “Sources say they were trying to find their way back to the group, but then they got lost. At some point, they were found dead in the cooling systems of the mill. This tragic accident forced Sionis to shut down his steel mill, being sued by the parents. He lost all his money with that, and some say he committed suicide in his office.”

[Dick:] “Apparently he’s haunting the place too, like as a kind of protector? Trying to prevent more deaths, though, not really successful. There’s 37 or 38 disappearances reported since the mill had been closed, depending on the sources. But he’s not the dangerous one, obviously. It has been said that the group of teenagers appear to separate people.”

[Stephanie:] “Oooh right right. It’s said that they look really friendly, but all they do is to try to lure people to their inevitable deaths.”

[Dick:] “There shouldn’t be any worry, actually, as Sionis, before dying, nailed the boiling and cooling parts shut, but… well, up to 38 disappearances, like Dick said. It’s not something you can take lightly”

[Stephanie:] “But according to our sources, several people who made it out alive say that you can tell when it’s them. They’re way too friendly, and they usually appear at the same time as the engines start … Well, the sound of the engines starting.”

[Dick:] “And when the teenagers appear, they always appear as the boys who want to show you what they found or the girls needing help to move something. But it’s always the same, to death.”

[Stephanie:] “So this is a warning to you guys, we don’t know whether or not it’s true, but we advise against visiting the place. We don’t need anymore people disappearing. What’s next on the list, Dick?”

[Dick:] “The second most haunted spot in Gotham is…” [Drums his fingers near the mic] “... THE SUTHERLAND MANSION!”

[Stephanie:] [Whispers screams and lightly applauds] “Ahh, ooohhh, spooky. Tell me, what makes it so haunted?”

[Dick:] “Well, you know, it’s that colonial style house in Old Gotham. It’s quite far from the center, so you can’t take the trolley to go there, you either have to walk or take a taxi. But it’s 200 years old, and it has a history quite tragic.”

[Stephanie:] “Then again, all the haunted spots have a tragic history. I don’t think there’s anything you can think up of that has a happy ending, now is there?”

[Dick:] “...No. You’re right.. Wait, what about- Ah, no, nevermind. There was the kid and-”

[Stephanie:] [Snorts] “You thought about the house with the ghost dog, didn’t you?”

[Dick:] “I did, listen I have yet to encounter the ghost dog. I really wanna see a ghost good boy.”

[Stephanie:] [laughs] “Don’t we all. Anyways, Matthew, married his wife Emily and they were very well off. Matthew’s father owned a mining company that was passed down to him when his father died. The house was finished in 1803 and they moved in around the same time Emily gave birth to their first kid, Loraine. Must be nice.”

[Dick:] “What, having a kid?”

[Stephanie:] “No, being better off. I, too, would like something to be handed down and I would become instantly rich. That or I get a nice farm in a far off island.”

[Dick:] [Chuckles] “A surprise grandfather gifting it to you when he dies?”

[Stephanie:] “Exactly!”

[Dick:] “Heh. Anyway, two years later, she gave birth to John, their baby boy, but he dies two months later because of an illness and Emily, out of grief, later kills herself by hanging.”

[Stephanie:] “So much for a happy life” [There’s an obnoxious noise of a candy wrapper being opened]

[Dick:] “Steph, we’re on air!”

[Stephanie:] “And I’m hungry! The students can understand that, can’t they?”

[Dick:] “Okay but we’re in the middle of a sad, tragic story and is that really the appropriate time to eat M&Ms?”

[Stephanie:] “...No. Sorry.” [Candy wrapper noises.] “Okay, there, put away, please, continue. So then what happened to uhhh, what’s his name? Matthew? And Loraine?

[Dick:] “Well, Matthew turned to alcohol to cope. He hired two nannies to take care of Loraine. Apparently though, they abused her because, well, if your employer’s too busy to pay attention to whatever you do and you’re still getting paid, stuff’s gonna go down, right?” [Stephanie:] “Right. Sheesh, and they just abuse her? He didn’t know?”

[Dick:] “I would assume not. Because Loraine actually ends up killing them at age 13. And a few years later, she disappears entirely. And her father wouldn’t find her body until three months later in a well. Finding himself alone, with everyone he cared for and loved dead, Matthew shoots himself on the head with a gun.”

[Stephanie:] “Jeez… I got a question. How do we know about the nannies abusing Loraine?”

[Dick:] “We actually have several journals left both by Loraine, and by a friend of the family, talking about the nannies and the tragedies the family encountered. That and how the mining company failed when Matthew turned to alcohol.”

[Stephanie:] [Candy wrapping noises] “Hmm, ok. So I got the list of the most important phenomenons here… Let me check...” [paper shuffling noises] “Here. And don’t say anything, we’re not in the middle of death and stuff anymore, can I just have my M&Ms?”

[Dick:] “Yeah, yeah. Sharing is caring, Steph.” [More wrapper crinkly noises] “Thaaank you. What do we have today, chief?” [Sound of candy being bitten]

[Stephanie:] [Snorts] “What’s this, an ASMR now? But.. Yeah, right. Let’s start with Matthew. Last to leave, first to be discussed. Apparently harmless, he’s said to wander in the kitchen and the study, and he got the gunshot visible in the back of his head, thought the face apparently would be intact.”

[Dick:] “Harmless? Just wandering?”

[Stephanie:] “Like he’s lost. That or he’s welcoming. A bit sad. Next, sometimes you can see Emily’s corpse hanging where the chandelier would have been, in the main staircase. On the seventh step of the stairs, some people say they can feel something on their neck, maybe like the knot in the rope Emily used before jumping to her death.”

[Dick:] “While talking about harmless, it has been reported that the keys of the piano on the second floor can be seen playing without anyone being nearby to actually play. Emily liked to play, it has been confirmed by the letters. And John’s cries can be heard in the nursery.”

[Stephanie:] “Wasn’t he stillborn though?”

[Dick:] “No no, died of an illness. Not stillborn.”

[Stephanie:] “Can stillborn baby ghosts cry?”

[Dick:] “I don’t know. I’m not an expert, it’s more Tim’s thing.”

[Stephanie:] “Tim, who we would like to thank, he did most of the research for us with his Paranormal Investigation club. Thanks guys!”

[Dick:] “Yeah, thanks a lot!”

[Tim:] [Faint in the background] “You’re welcome!”

[Dick snorts.]

[Stephanie:] “But there aren’t only harmless manifestations. The nannies roam the halls in the second floor in search for Loraine, or pretty much anyone around 13 to kill. That being said, there’s an older Loraine that follows tall brown haired women that look like her nannies. There’s the usual voices and evil laughter every once in a while, but those the nannies are the most creepy ones, especially since they would sometimes run right through unfortunate trespassers.”

[Dick:] “Thaaaaaaat’s… Yeah. I don’t want to go there actually.”

[Stephanie:] “What? You don’t wanna hear Emily play some badass piano? So the last spot we’re gonna be talking about today is arguably the most haunted place in Gotham: Arkham Asylum.”

[Cliche organ music playing.]

[Dick:] “Is that why you had your phone nearby? You were getting ready to play that?”

[Stephanie:] “For effect! And yes, I was. It adds to the creepiness, okay?”

[Dick:] “Oh yes. I’m terrified.”

[Stephanie:] “Shut up. But yeah, Arkham Asylum. Can you feel my excitement, Dick?”

[Dick:] “Yeah, you’re shaking my hand, stop that. Folks, we’ve got a treat for you all because we’re actually broadcasting from inside the asylum! Don’t ask how we got in.”

[Stephanie:] “For that, we’d like to thank Jason. Without him, we wouldn’t be here.”

[Jason:] [In the background] “You make me sound like I’m your dad.”

[Stephanie:] “That’s cause you are, Da-”

[Jason:] [In the background] “Not another step closer, Steph.”

[Stephanie laughs.]

[Dick:] “Gross. But let’s get right on it, shall we? We don’t have much time left anyway.

[Stephanie:] “Right, yes. Let’s dive in.”

[Dick:] “The asylum was thought to be haunted since the big fire that happened in 1957.”

[Stephanie:] “A lot of inmates died, right?”

[Dick:] “Yeah, and-” [Loud shouting in the background.] “DAMIAN, STOP CHASING TIM” [Dick’s voice sounds like he’s turned away from the mic. Damian being vaguely heard in the background.] “I said no! You go back home right away if you keep doing that, let him chase ghosts.”

[A faint groan from Damian. Then, some silence]

[Stephanie:] “Yeaaaaaaaaah ok so, for the ones who don’t know about Arkham, it has four aisles, three floors and a basement. Right?”

[Dick:] “Hm? Ah, yeah, yes. Erm… The Northeast one, don’t go there. Not that it’s the most haunted or anything, but the floors are ready to collapse and we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. But despite our best advice to NOT go, some of you will… like how we’re here… We’re not the best role models. But just don’t go in the Northeast aisle, seriously.”

[Stephanie:] “The fire occurred in the Southeast aisle, where smoke can still be smelled. You can also often hear the screams of the trapped inmates.”

[Dick:] “There are several places in the asylum where an architect can be seen, angry and carrying an axe, he’s kinda hostile. And when it isn’t him, it’s the worker, beheaded by him, who tries to warn the visitors. The worker also doesn’t have his hands anymore, so that’s another characteristic. Those two are from the time the asylum was built, around 1900.”

[Stephanie:] “Amadeus Arkham built it for his mother, Elizabeth? That’s what Tim said. She’s thought to haunt the library, in the recreational area. According to some sources, Amadeus ends up killing her, while others say she died from an illness.”

[Dick:] “Arkham is said to be most haunted because unlike the last two we mentioned, this place actually spikes up in activity in the month of October. We’ve already got some audio recordings of screams you can hear here as well as footsteps.”

[Stephanie:] “Which we will post on our Twitter. Give us a follow, @spoileralert.”

[Dick:] “Continuing on. The recreational area is in the Northwest aisle with the kitchen and dining room. Not much to see there but it’s the fastest way to the Solarium” [There’s neon and glitter in his voice when he says ‘solarium’]

[Stephanie:] “YESS! That’s where we’ll go as soon as we’ll be done with this podcast because, let me tell you, lovely listeners, it’s been said that there’s a super secret room under the solarium.”

[Tim] [In the background:] “I could go with Jay and Damian while you finish and-”

[Dick:] “NO! We’re all in this together, Steph and I wanna be there for when it’ll be discovered!”

[Tim:] “Ok ok fine, sheeeeesh.”

[Dick:] “We have no real idea what’s in there, but several documents Tim found indicate a mysterious sect in the asylum, so maybe their headquarters?”

[Stephanie:] “Or a ritual chamber! Maybe they worshipped Outer Gods!”

[Dick:] “Steph, it isn’t Lovecraft, despite what Tim says, Cthulhu doesn’t exist.”

[Tim:] “Actually, Cthulhu isn’t an Outer God but a Great Old One. Just sayin’.”

[Dick:] “Not the point, Tim. But Steph, I highly doubt it’ll be that exciting.”

[Stephanie:] “Oh don’t be a party killer like your father.”

[Dick:] “I’M NOT LIKE-” [Deep breath to calm down.] “Erm. Sorry. Anyway. I think that’s all we had to say about Arkham Asylum for now?”

[Stephanie:] “Yep. We’re also gonna be doing a seance in the secret room if it ever turns out that I was right about the ritual chamber.”

[Dick:] “Oooor if it ever exists.”

[Stephanie:] “If it doesn’t, we’ll just do a seance somewhere else.”

[Damian behind:] “On Drake’s dead body.”

[Tim:] [On the side.] “I’m finally gonna die??”

[Dick:] “NO STOP THAT. No one’s gonna die!”

[Damian:] “Tt.”

[Stephanie:] “I guess that’s all we have for you today. Tonight. Whatever. Any last words?”

[There’s a bit of shuffling with the mic on Dick’s side.] [Jason:] “Yeah, go follow my instagram, my handle is @jaybirdtodd. Like my recent picture, fam.”

[Stephanie:] “Oh my god.”

[Dick:] “Is that the one of you shirtless?”

[Jason:] [At the back.] “Abso-fuckin-lutely.” [Sound of fingers snapping. Most likely finger guns.]

[Stephanie:] “Okay we’ll cut here. This has been Stephanie Brown.

[Dick:] “And Dick Grayson. Featuring Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and Jason Todd. As always-”

[Stephanie:] “Love and sparkles.”

[End of Episode 3.]

#spoiler alert podcast #sap #stephanie brown #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #dc #batfam #batfamily #batkids #season 1

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missanthropicprinciple · 6 years

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Super-long rant-review post about Werewolf of London (1935) with images and spoilers...

I love Werewolf of London, this 83-year-old film. It’s got some problems typical of 1930s Hollywood, but I still find a lot of value in it.

The setting, the moonlit hills of Tibet. Accuracy? not so much.

Apparently the “Tibetans” are actually speaking Cantonese...and the white actors are clearly not speaking anything. 30 years before Star Wars and it honestly sounds like they’re speaking Ewok...but it’s just gibberish. I think the only realistic part of this scene is the fact that there actually are bactrian camels in Tibet. At least it’s quite well filmed.

The sequence where Dr. Glendon (Henry Hull) is attacked by the werewolf is really eerie and holds up well.

The actual bite is so quick but if you screencap that second it’s creepy AF.

Despite the attack, Dr. Glendon gets his coveted “Mariphasa Lupina Lumina” flower (sadly, completely fictitious) and heads back to England.

In his lab, Dr. Glendon lives out his mad-scientist aesthetic surrounded by some high tech equipment. He even gets buzzed by his wife on what is basically an old-timey FaceTime device that lacks audio. Even though we know it’s superimposed footage it’s fairly seamless.

Next we get a little portrait of a marriage. He’s working on an experiment with flowering and artificial light and his wife Lisa (Valerie Hobson) wants to know what the hell he’s up to. He’s secretive and she’s understandably annoyed. But she calls him “dear old bear” which is quite sweet but ironically hints at the animalistic transformation to follow. He says that after the experiment he will try to be more “human” but we know that ain’t gonna happen.

Henry Hull’s accent. It needs its own paragraph. It’s not bad for someone from Louisville, Kentucky, and in fact sometimes it’s really amazing, but other moments it crosses your mind that the dialect coach was out sick that day of shooting. He enunciates very strongly. His jaws much have hurt him a bit. He’s fun to listen to though and you gotta give the guy credit because he doesn’t shy away from being über-Brit.

Enter Lisa’s old childhood sweetheart Paul, played by the adorkable yet suave Lester Matthews. He and Lisa, whom he refers to as “Lee”, reminisce about their joint childhood exploits.

Cue Dr. Glendon’s jealousy:

Understandably, Dr. Glendon is quietly dying inside because he hates all the socializing that comes with being a world-renowned botanist. Seeing another man making his wife smile does not help his mood.

Lookit ‘em; holding hands for heaven’s sake. Aunt Ettie also likes to stir up trouble and add to Glendon’s jealously which isn’t very nice of her.

Side note, Dr. Glendon has some tricked-out plants:

Now we meet Dr. Yogami (Warner Oland).

Warner Oland, who was often cast as Asian characters because he “looked Asian”, was actually Swedish. (One would think that 80 years later this casting of white actors in non-white roles would have come to an end but we’re still dealing with this crap.) While Oland is a fairly good actor, he’s still NOT Asian and it would have been so much better if they had cast Sessue Hayakawa as Yogami as he was not only gorgeous but a better actor.

However, Yogami is implied to be Chinese or Tibetan and Hayakawa is Japanese. Still, if the character was stated as Japanese it would have been perfect. Ironically, later on in the film Aunt Ettie keeps calling him Yokohama which is the second largest city in Japan. And I can’t find the surname Yogami anywhere. I can find Yagami and that’s a Japanese surname, not Chinese or Tibetan as far as I can tell. Oh, Old Hollywood and your stomach-churning whitewashing.

Dr. Yogami says that they met before in Tibet...in the dark. He’s giving him a really big hint that he’s the one who bit him (...either that or he’s implying they met for an evening liaison). Dr. Glendon is trying to piece it together.

Dr. Yogami says, “The medical term is ‘lycanthrophobia’.” WRONG. The medical term is lycanthropy, if being a werewolf was actually real. (The uncommon thing were people grow all the excess facial hair is hypertrichosis.) Clinical lycanthropy is a rare psychological condition that is linked to schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and/or clinical depression. (More on that later.)

Here’s a cap of Dr. Yogami intimately stroking Dr. Glendon’s injured arm while making hella awkward eye contact. As modern viewers we may or may not have a strong impulse to read this as somewhat sexual, or maybe as an identification of repressed homosexual desire. Lycanthropy in literature and film mythology has occasionally been used or identified as a metaphor for homosexuality.

In a world where stabbing yourself with a plant gets rid of monthly hair growth. I’m curious to know why it looks like his stabbing it into a dorsal metacarpal vein and not the palmar (inside) side of wrist....medical side of Tumblr help me out here. Maybe they just wanted to feature the hairy hand.

Dr. Yogami essentially asks Dr. Glendon for a blossom of the glow-in-the-dark flower to save his soul (and his fellow botanist as well), albeit in a cryptic way. He says “But remember this Dr. Glendon, the werewolf instinctively seeks to kill the thing it loves best.” Sadly, Dr. Glendon thinks he’s full of crap and ignores his warnings despite knowing that stabbing himself with this rare flower magically makes his moon-grown hand-hair disappear. Dumb or in denial?

So of course Dr. Yogami steals not one, but two flowers. For two of the four nights of the full moon. Technically there is only one night of full moon at any given time but I’m going to give this a pass. Maybe during the time that the moon is still almost full, though waning, it still have the power to change man into the “satanic creature.”

Meanwhile, skeptical Dr. Glendon does a little lycanthropic research:

Lisa drops by and asks him to join her and Paul at a society party but he pegs out or course, and then adds a jibe about not wanting to hear anymore childhood memories. Is the werewolf infection making him bitchy or is he just like that? Hard to tell.

Lisa is hurt. But he says she should go out and enjoy herself. She tries to show him this brocade he bought her but he flips out when she turns on the lights. Presumably being a werewolf makes you sensitive to light.

He responds with the “I put some medicine in my eyes” routine and they clearly don’t buy it.

Seems fake, but ok.

I feel like this is one of many allusions to depression in this film: sensitive to light, wanting to be alone, disliking small-talk and society parties, general introversion and distrust of others. We get a sense that he’s kind of this way anyway at the core of his personality but the werewolf contamination has made that all worse.

Dr. Glendon may be a jerk but it’s hard not to feel sympathy for him. He really does love her. She’s still too annoyed to reciprocate.

Even his cat’s pissed at him.

When animals start rejecting you, ya know you got problems.

And lo, he thought, “oh shit.”

The moonlight transformation sequence is quite simple by today’s standards of physical and special effects, but it’s still effective. Using the shadows to break up the footage isn’t fooling anyone, especially nowadays, yet it has a kind of fluidity that makes it oddly very evocative.

A word about Jack Pierce’s makeup. Believe it or not it was originally going to look like this:

Oink oink. Thank heavens someone talked Jack into a more minimalist look. Jack Pierce, known for his incredible work on films like Frankenstein (1931), The Mummy (1932), and The Wolf Man (1941), to name but a few, appears to have been a tad stubborn depending on the actor he worked with. He had a great relationship with Boris Karloff as far as I’m aware but the harmony working with Hull didn’t last long. There was a rumor going around that Hull was super vain and didn’t want the makeup to obscure his face. The truth of it was there are a couple scenes when Lisa and Paul both recognize him and if the werewolf makeup was applied too heavily, this part of the plot just wouldn’t work. Apparently Hull went over Pierce’s stubborn head straight to Carl Laemmle to fix the problem. The book Universal Horrors: The Studio’s Classic Films, 1931–1946 by Tom Weaver and John Brunas has more on this. (And in the Svengoolie intro to the film featured on ME TV.) The incident paid off because the final makeup was stellar.

That awkward moment when someone steals your flowers:

Suddenly filled with jealous rage...

...but wait lemme just put my hat and coat on first. If he does that when he’s full-on werewolf can you imagine how much time it takes for him to get ready normally? Diva.

The obligatory party scene...

...with a comic interlude from Aunt Ettie who drunkenly says to “Dr. Yokohama” as she calls him, pointing to a dodgy district visible from her flat, that people there would “knife you for a shilling.” But then they hear the howl of a “lost soul” which is the chilling call of Dr. Glendon and it’s time to go inside.

Drunk lady trope scene. No point in rescuing her she already made a fool out of herself but off they run:

There is a ring of sadness to Aunt Ettie’s drunk scene because she says “she gets so nervous.” Hello social anxiety. She is a tad obnoxious as a character but this part makes her seem so much more sympathetic.

“A-woooooooooooo!”

Ok, that’s not a dog.

Dr. Yogami is quaking in his spats at this point.

Even though you know that this is Dr. Glendon, this remains creepy. Who hasn’t thought of a monster clawing their way into your bedroom late at night? They really milk the suspense in this scene.

Lisa is offended by Dr. Yogami’s seemingly sexist and controlling behavior but in reality he’s trying to save her life. He knows that Dr. Glendon is on the loose and can probably smell her and will likely kill her. But she goes up to comfort her friend anyway.

Cue the “you just had a bad dream” scene. For once Ettie isn’t full of hogwash.

Poor Ettie. Seeing a werewolf will sober you up pretty quick.

Mr. Hyde? Oh wait, wrong movie.

Apparently all young women of a lower class looked like Hollywood starlets back then. Pretty stylish.

This is why I don’t have a Tinder.

Dr. Yogami executes an A+ facepalm. His wrist-leaning skills are classic. 10/10:

I mean, what did he think was going to happen? You can’t blackmail a guy who’s in denial about being a werewolf, it doesn’t work. But then, if he left one flower there you wouldn’t have a second act.

Paul says that it might be a werewolf attack. He’s almost joking but he makes the suggestion anyway. His uncle, head of Scotland Yard no less (now that’s convenient) thinks this is ridiculous.

Meanwhile Dr. Glendon reads about how he accidentally murdered a woman last night:

“You’re being utterly hateful, Wilfred.” She sees that he’s not happy and we all know that he’s past the point of no return. Someone has already died. His bitterness at her relationship with Paul is exacerbated by this revelation. But he doesn’t storm from the room or hurt her. He actually acts like an adult, says he’s sorry, and says that he will go out horseback riding with her after all. A lot of reviewers don’t like his character but I find him continually sympathetic.

Again, it’s a realistic portrayal of a marriage. Dr. Glendon “forbids” his wife to go out on a midnight horseback ride with her ex. As sexist as his I’m-the-man-putting-my-foot-down-with-the-wife routine is, he has a couple genuine reasons for acting this way. He’s worried about her safety cause he knows the moon is gonna make him crazy and he could unintentionally kill her in a fit of jealous rage. And of course he’s ticked off that Lisa is galavanting around with another man. She in turn is appropriately angry with his controlling remarks without having good reason for his concern...plus she wants to prove a point that he’s not making enough time for her in their marriage.

Mrs. Moncaster explains how decking her “dearest friend” Mrs. Whack was an appropriate action to take in the sake of business.

Dr. Glendon calls himself “Singularly single, madam. More single than I ever realised it was possible for a human being to be...” Which seems to evoke qualities of his situation and depression. He feels so isolated.

He prays that this transformation won’t happen again but it does.

“If I ran the zoo I'd let all the animals go” - Dr. Seuss. This is Glendon’s way of causing a distraction so that he can attack another woman but it’s also symbolic of him releasing his inner animalistic nature.

Ya gotta appreciate the special effects:

Dr. Yogmai hails from the University of Carpathia. Here to represent.....an institution that I’m fairly certain doesn’t exist. Unless they mean Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University but that wasn’t established until 1940. Still, he’s a professor of botany so that’s cool. Kind of like Professor Lupin.

Presumably, Dr. Yogami goes to Paul because he’s well connected and he wants to prevent Dr. Glendon from doing anymore damage.

A+ usage of the scary uplighting effect.

Dr. Glendon instructs a servant to lock him in until sunrise. Oh the upper-classes and their odd demands.

Paul still loves her. Duh. She can’t reciprocate because she’s married.

Those bars are toast.

Henry Hull does a great job of prowling with just the right balance between animal and man.

Now that’s a scream:

Paul to the rescue.

Paul recognizes Dr. Glendon. (Thanks, Mr. Hull.)

Dr. Yogami’s rooms “smelled like a kennel" when they found the mutilated maid. Yuck. Did he pee all over the room? Not something anyone likes to think about for too long. Especially the head of Scotland Yard. Just look at his face.

Paul digs through the trash and finds the discarded flowers.

Maybe Paul should work for Scotland Yard instead of his uncle.

Hey how was your trip? So, Hawkins (J.M. Kerrigan) doesn’t think it’s odd that Dr. Glendon is hiding from the police? Does he even know why? Did Glendon tell him “hey I’m a werewolf and I accidentally killed people?” or does Hawkins just give him a pass like “it’s his life and none of my business.”? Well, as the scene suggests, Hawkins clearly does not know because he’s confused by how important this damn flower is to Dr. G.

I have to say, I get this excited about my sweet peas every year so I totally identify with his reaction. #humor

How does he even get into the lab?! Dr. Glendon needs better security or just, ya know, locks.

Somehow Glendon doesn’t see Yogami tip-toeing down the steps. How bad does your peripheral vision have to be?!

"You brought this on me that night in Tibet!” (You don’t say.)

The problem with stealing a plant that only blooms as the moon emerges is that the werewolf might kill you mid-transformation. Exhibit A:

They were both doomed anyway.

Dr. Glendon goes looking for Lisa.

Lycanthropy makes Dr. Glendon strong. Those chintz curtains and flimsy doors are no match for him.

Paul also lacks clear peripheral vision, apparently. Funny how ya don’t see a werewolf perched above a door you’re about to go into.

With all that jumping off buildings, werewolves must be prime candidates for knee replacement surgery.

More great uplighting to do justice to some remarkable makeup:

“It’s Lisa!”

Who the hell is Lisa?

Maybe he remembers at this point. Hard to tell.

A regular bullet does the job. The myth that a werewolf can only be killed by a silver bullet most likely dates back to the legend of the Beast of Gévaudan, in which a humungous wolf is killed by a hunter named "Argent" which is Latin for silver, who uses a gun loaded with silver bullets. The filmmakers clearly don’t feel that this is a necessary part of this movie’s mythology. And in a way, this is a good decision because it makes the werewolf more pitiable and certainly less mythological. If a werewolf has most of the same vulnerabilities as a human, most of the same human rules of existence apply because werewolves are not semi-indestructible. It also just makes werewolves more human and more sympathetic. Werewolf!Glendon is basically afflicted with a kind of disease that could hypothetically be explained by medical science; he isn’t some mythological beast.

We can presume his soul is saved. “Thanks...thanks for the bullet. It was the only way. In a few moments now, I shall know why all of this had to be.”

��Good-bye, Lisa. Lisa – good-bye...I’m sorry...I couldn’t have made you...happier...”

(This is immediately followed by the sound of my heart breaking.) Seriously, this isn’t a guilt trip like he thinks Lisa is some overly-needy wife. He knows that he’s not always equip to give Lisa what she needs out of a relationship. He genuinely feels bad. It isn’t because of the lycanthropy, he was like this before, as a scientist. Did he have depression anyway? He might have. He really does love her and they have an understanding. This is probably some of the best acting in the film, the way that Hull delivers his lines and the look on Valerie Hobson’s face tells you so much.

Thankfully, his death means that he is free of lycanthropy.

The sun comes up.

A plane is in the air, presumably Paul and Lisa are off to California.

And then we get a nice transition into the Universal Studios plane.

What a trip. Hope you enjoyed my rambling. Until next time.

#Werewolf of London #this took me a month to compile #1935 #Henry Hull #Warner Oland #Valerie Hobson #Lester Matthews #old hollywood #whitewashing #classic hollywood #Jack Pierce #werewolves #film reviews #my reviews #long post #movies #films

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shadowhuntertrash · 4 years

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High Notes

Relationships:

Thomas Lightwood x Alastair Carstairs

James Herondale x Matthew Fairchild

Background Lucie Herondale x Jesse Blackthorn

Also obviously I own nothing but the plot. Characters are from Cassandra Clare

Chapter Three

There were three buses, one for the Merry Thieves, one for Beautiful Cordelia, and the other for Alastair. Each had their respective names on one side of the bus and pictures of them on the other. There were two rooms in each bus so Cordelia, Lucie, and Alastair got their own room.

It was decided that, since Matthew and James were dating, they would share a room and Christopher and Thomas were sharing a room. Matthew and Christopher were already inside looking around but Thomas was still standing looking at the bus because this, this was real. He was so scared and nervous and excited. He didn’t want to get on the bus yet because that made it real and was he ready for that?

Thomas gave him a tightlipped smile and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a little, anxious, I guess?” Alastair gave him a knowing look and walked close so they were standing side by side. “I know it looks a little daunting,” Alastair says looking at the tour bus. “But don’t let it get to you. You’ll have fun I promise. Plus everyone gets close on tour like it or not so you’ll always have all of us if you need it.” Alastair says shrugging as if that sentence hadn’t just rocked Thomas’ world.

Of course his friends would be there for him but did Alastair just say he would too? Not that Thomas would ever go to him if something was wrong. He hated bothering people. Thomas flashed him a reserved smile and thanked him.

Alastair looked at Thomas as if he was expecting something. When Thomas looked at him confused Alastair just huffed and grabbed Thomas’ wrist, pulling him up the bus, not unlike how Matthew had pulled James earlier. Thomas’ stomach started doing a weird fluttery thing and his wrist felt like it was burning. Was it hot? It definitely got hot.

“Glad to see you finally joined us Thomas. Though it looks like you needed some help.” Thomas laughed stiffly and walked over, hitting Matthew on the back of the head before heading towards the rooms. He saw Christopher laid out on one of the beds and immediately regretted sharing a room with him.

Matthew frowned and swatted James hand away moving so he could put his head in James’ lap. James immediately began running his fingers through Matthew’s hair. Thomas smiled at them, they were literally so cute. Thomas wanted that.

He turned to Alastair and looked at him warily. “Are you sure you don’t mind? It’s not that big a deal I’m just complaining.” Alastair laughed and shook his head. “No it’s fine I promise. It’ll get lonely by myself after a while anyway.” Thomas smiled at him. “Thank you so much you’re a lifesaver!” Thomas said getting up and picking his suitcase up off the bed in Christopher’s room before walking back out and following Alastair back to his bus.

“Hey thanks again.” Thomas said walking up the stairs of Alastair’s bus. “Lightwood seriously, it's fine stop thanking me.” Thomas clenched his jaw and nodded walking into the empty room. He fell back onto his bed and watched as Alastair threw him a smirk. Thomas was about to say something when their phones went off simultaneously.

“Oh my god Barbara congrats!” Thomas said enthusiastically. Barbara sniffs again before laughing more. “What did mum and pops say?” Thomas asked, smiling as if this was happening to him. “I haven’t told them yet! I wanted to tell you first!” Barbara said excitedly. “Aww! This is why you’re my favorite! Genie would have kept me out of the loop forever!” Thomas said admittedly giddy.

“Hey are you on speaker phone?” Thomas asks and Oliver chuckles anxiously. “Um no I’m not.” Thomas nods. He actually really liked Oliver. He obviously cared a lot about his sister and was a kind person. Thomas had been rooting for him from the get go.

Thomas put on her stern voice before talking. “Okay so I’m going to say this because someone has to and my dad is too put together to do it.” Oliver audibly gulps and Thomas smiles knowing that Oliver is intimidated enough to actually listen to him.

“Good and Oliver?” Oliver lets out a shaky ‘yes’. “I’m really glad you two are together.” Thomas says smiling. Oliver laughs again, his laugh dripping with relief. “Thanks man.” Thomas nods and says, “Okay now put Barbara back on.”

Thomas sat on his bed a little longer a stupid smile on his face. His sister was getting married. That was such a crazy thought to Thomas, he remembered sitting down with her and helping her plan her wedding when she was ten. Now it was real, now there was no cut out picture of Chris Evans in a tux, now it was Oliver. Someone she truly loved (not that her love for Chris was fake god only knows how real that was).

Thomas didn’t understand what she was teasing him about, it was kind of Alastair to let him stay in his bus. Alastiar shoved Cordelia lightly before standing up. “Has Anna said how long it will be before we get to our first stop?” Alastair asked his sister. Cordelia shook her head and shrugged.

“No, but she said we get a week in the first spot to set everything up and get used to it. We’re doing a few pop up shows too.” Thomas nods along with Alastair. He had been meaning to ask that as well.

As soon as the three of them got on the other boys bus, they started the traveling part of their trip. Thomas was once again seated next to Alastair and watched as Alastair talked passionately about his last tour.

He’d write a song.

@starryherondales

#fanfiction #thomastair #alastair carstairs #thomas x alastair #thomas lightwood #thomas and alastair #matthew fairchild #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #christopher lightwood #bus #tlh #the last hours

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napolenserraticmind · 6 years

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Draft 5.

Dear Drew,

No, it was four buds in....That’s when you were mentioned. Give me some credit, i haven’t spoken of you since the accident. So yes, i did cry. Till Hannah swung for me that is. She’s a mess also, more because we lost Sam last night. Drew that niggas gone. I told Nick to watch him but he fell asleep by the back door. Sam made his way into the yard then on to the street. And…I…i...just can’t. I’m so mad right now! I tried crying but nothing came….I settled for masturbating to Jill Scott and texting Karen…and yeah we also spoke about you. She’s still with James, that niggas salty as fuck. Why she with him and not Kurt? Remind me what a dealer does for you? Doesn’t anyone remember what happen to Sara at Coachella in 08? Hello!?

Matthew lost Kate to the base player down by pivot creek. His the only nigga who plays base in town....You know who i’m on about, yeah that nigga. Sophie didn’t hit me back. Showing James her nudes really was the last straw. Not felt this way about anyone since we played football down solo by the pier. Man that night was so much fun, do you remember Kane Curt Theo and Jay hot boxing the toilet outside the Woodberry hurler? Shit…I think i actually remember the very second i fell for you. You grabbed the ball while tugging me, I grabbed your waist and lifted you up. I sneezed, and the coke we took came up and found it’s way into your hair. I felt so fucking embarrassed!! Oh shit.....Jake tried some yesterday, he said his not coming Paris anymore. This nigga told me his not trying to die till after Tomorrowland. He has five months left to live, I don’t see his point. Doesn’t anyone want to burst his bubble? I mean were all fucking dying, hence the need for us to be in this ward! Let me not get into it, it will ruin months of mediation and not trying to build up anymore Karma. The buddha within is good, the buddha within is at peace. Anyway, you started laughing and that was the moment! That’s when i fell for you. You didn’t think i was weird, odd or off. You just enjoyed the moment Drew, and that made my heart open.

Fuck….i gotta go. It’s lunch time, Derick told me at breakfast i got seven month left....Come see a nigga. I need you, the cancer’s started to eat away at my sight. Anyday now i’ll go blind.…Hurry, please.

Sincerely your’s

Hannah Harper Lee.

P.S. tell Sophie I’m sorry.

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bringmetolife-pwff · 4 years

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Part 1: Chapter 1 - The Betrayal

Spring 2007

It was another long exhausting day at work in the office. She was putting the finishing touches on her spring line before it was released to the world and she had another fashion show to showcase her designs. This year was all about pastels and floral. She knew the high expectations that there were for her line this year.

It was enough to send her into another frenzy.

Lately she had been all about work and no time for anything but that. She felt bad that she hadn't made any time for those close to her: fiancé, friends and family. But she was lucky enough to know that they understood. Especially her father.

She grew up with a father who was the CEO of his own brand - Bennett & Co. He made mainly high end watches, tuxedos and cologne. He had been in the business for over thirty years and she had learned from the best, her dad. He had been there to cheer her on through everything. From the first person who turned her designs down to her line now being sold in stores like H&M and Anthropologie. He was her number one fan, always.

She had met her fiancé, Liam Matthews a year and a half ago when he starred in a movie called Lie With Me. She had been invited to attend the premiere of the film. First, because of her name she was very well known across the United Kingdom and the United States. Secondly, the wardrobe people on set had reached out to her whilst they were filming and asked to use some of her dresses. She happily agreed and had them sent over right away by her assistant.

When she met the lead actor of the film, Liam Matthews, she fell for him right away. He was tall, handsome and they got on well. Unfortunately, with Liam being an actor, he's gone a lot and not always there for Evelyn when she needs him or just wants to be with him. But she didn't care. She loved him anyway and said yes instantly regardless of her families hesitation of the guy. They didn't care if he was an A-list actor. They knew his track record with women, mostly from their friends and people who worked with him.

They never said anything to Evelyn though. They wanted her to be happy and they knew that she wouldn't believe them. No matter how much she adored her family. She grew up with five siblings, four of them being brothers.

"How are we doing, Eve?" Samantha, Eve's assistant asked as she brought her boss her usual coffee.

Samantha Cunning had been Evelyn's assistant from the very start of her company. She was detailed-oriented, hard working, and always took notes to whatever Evelyn needed her to do which Evelyn appreciated. She hadn't had any prior experience to being an assistant, but Evelyn took a chance on her and she was so lucky she did. She's been a big help to her ever since. Unlike Evelyn, Samantha was tall around five foot eleven. She had red hair and freckles that speckled on her porcelain skin and wore glasses as she wasn't able to see without them. Samantha was married to an architect for ten years and his name is Hamish. They have two boys: Noah who is seven and Mark who is five. Evelyn has been close friends with Samantha and her family outside of their jobs for years.

"Thanks, Sam. You are the best! We're doing pretty good. Almost done with the finishing touches and should be done for next week's show. I should have asked you a couple of weeks ago but did you get the invitations sent out for the guests that are invited?"

This year her fashion show was being held at The Royal Opera House. She was very honoured to have her show there as it was the first time ever she would be.

"Already done, Eve. I also used the calligraphy on the cards like you requested."

"Excellent. Thank you so much, Sam, honestly. Oh - what about the flowers and the other props to set up?"

"Done and done," Sam smiles at her boss adjusting her glasses.

"What would I do without you?" Evelyn asks with a sigh.

"You wouldn't know how to survive," she jokes making the boss laugh and nod her head.

"Probably true," she states as her phone rings letting Samantha know she needs to leave the office to go to her own desk.

Evelyn looks at the caller id to see whose calling and sees Liam's name listed on the screen. She smiles and swivels in her chair as she answers it.

"Hello, Li," she greets her fiancé.

"Hi, Evelyn. How are you?" His voice a little gruff.

She pulled the phone away from her ear slightly looking at her phone scrunching up her nose. He had never greeted her with her full name and his tone seemed off as well.

"I'm all right. Getting everything ready for my show next Thursday. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Busy. Listen, I have some news you might not like."

"Yeah? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"I'm not going to be able to make it to your show. I'm sorry, Evelyn."

Evelyn hung up immediately getting right back to work pushing back all thoughts of her fiancé now. She had always been there for him no matter how far away they were from each other. Always going to his premieres, no matter if she didn't want to go or not. She was always proud of him and all of his success.

Why couldn't he be there for her too?

***

It was late at night when Eve finally finished her work for her show. All of her coworkers had been amazing in helping her prepare for it on Wednesday. She was more than anxious to be here already.

Heading into the apartment she shared with her fiancé, she had some Chinese takeout with her for some late night dinner. She felt bad that she had been all about work lately and even though she was upset with Liam for not being able to go, she brought him food as a way of making it up to him.

Closing the door to their apartment, she let out an exhausted sigh setting the food on the kitchen counter. Evelyn could feel in-between her nose and brows scrunch together in confusion at the noises she was hearing. For some reason, she felt as though she ought to follow them always being curious.

As the noises became closer, it sounded like two people were having sex in her home and one voice was her fiancé. Growing anxious, she wasn't sure what compelled her to open the door which led to their bedroom but she wished she hadn't. As the woman who was riding her fiancé could easily be recognizable as her best friend, Blair Taylor.

"What the hell?" Evelyn cried out in shock making the couple freeze in their positions and look up at the voice.

Liam sat up immediately making Blair roll over and fall off the bed.

"Fuck," Blair moaned in slight pain but quickly ignoring it as she threw on some clothes hastily while Liam scrambled out of bed putting his briefs on.

"How long has this been going on?" Eve shouted at the two.

Liam wouldn't answer and wasn't able to look Evelyn in the eye. Blair was the one who answered for the both of them.

"Since you've been engaged," she answered smug as she looked at her former best friend. They had been best friends since they were in kindergarten and told each other everything. They were there for each other for all of their biggest moments. Eve thought she knew her. Apparently not.

"What?" She began hyperventilating. "So you mean to tell me that this whole engagement and relationship has been a lie?"

"Evelyn, you're barely here anymore," Liam finally looked at her raking his fingers through his hair. "We never see each other. We, at least I, have fallen out love. Besides, it's not like you didn't sleep with Jake."

Jake was Blair's ex-boyfriend that she dated for three years. Evelyn was never sure why they ended things because she thought they were good for each other.

"I'm hardly here right now because of my fashion show coming up! I thought you out of all people would understand. And what the bloody hell are you going on about me sleeping with Jake? I haven't spoken to him since he and Blair broke up!"

"Don't lie, Evelyn," he spoke harshly at her. "I know you've been sleeping with Jake behind my back. All of our friends have been telling me as well."

"Get out," she told her former best friend and ex-fiancé as she began taking the ring off of her finger and chucking it at him. "And keep it. We're done. And Blair? Stay the hell out of my life!"

"No fucking way!" Liam exclaimed not going down without a fight. "I'm not leaving. I paid for this place. It's you who should find another."

"Fine!"

Evelyn couldn't believe what she ever saw in that piece of shit. She angrily wiped at the tears on her face as she pulled out one of her bags and stuffed some clothes in it. She would be back tomorrow for the rest of her things.

***

It was a heartbreaking night for Evelyn Claire Bennett as she made her way to a pub. She wanted to forget everything that had happened that day. She didn't care how many drinks it took to forget. Tears streamed down her face as she opened the door to the bar, wiping them away as she entered.

She probably looked awful. She had smudges of her black mascara smeared underneath her eyes but at the moment she didn't care. She didn't know anyone at this bar and wasn't looking to impress anyone anyways. Taking a seat at the bar, she was on her phone texting her sister Vivienne needing a place to stay for the night. Or a while.

"What happened to you, darling?" The bar tender asked as he handed her a pint. "Rough night?"

"Yeah," she sniffled as she took a gulp. "I found my fiancé in bed with my best friend and that they had been spreading lies about me."

"Ouch. Damn that ought to hurt. Well you want to know what I would do to people like them?"

"No," she shook her head taking another sip. "What?"

"I would find someone better and flaunt it to them as a way of giving them a big 'fuck you' to them. Who needs pricks like those?"

She laughed slightly at that. Even though it hurt to laugh. It hurt to breathe. It felt as though she was under water and she was gasping for air and nothing would come up. Was it possible? To feel like you're living but also feel like you're dying at the same time? She felt as though she could hear her heart breaking into pieces shattering as it hits the ground. Plummeting into a world of darkness.

---

A/N: I hope you all are doing well! This is a new story I'm posting. I know Prince William is married to Kate Middleton and I LOVE them together but I thought it would be fun to write a story about him. I don't see too many and he's one my favorite Royal's. Hope you all enjoy and buckle up for this crazy ride :).

#bringmetolife-pwff prince William princewilliamfanfic britishroyalfamily prince harry kate middleton romance fanfiction

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actuallymollyweasley · 7 years

Text

kids of the in-between: ch. 14

aka “Ticking Backwards”

Honestly, you’re all amazing for being so patient all this time, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Managed to finish just in time to celebrate the end of the beauty that was Pynch Week haha. Feel free to ask to be tagged in future updates if you want!

Read all parts: on tumblr | on ao3

One second, Adam was highlighting his calculus lecture notes from last week in an effort to try and remember how the hell he was supposed to answer the questions in his problem set. The next second, Blue Sargent had somehow managed to snatch up his notebook and highlighter, toss them onto his bed, and perch herself on his desk, all in a single motion. She then proceeded to smile at him as if this was completely normal.

(Although Adam supposed that because Blue Sargent was involved, it kind of was.)

“Hello, Adam.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. She was using her customer-service voice, the one that managed to convey I'm running on two hours of sleep so you can be polite to me or die just by the way she shaped her vowels. “Blue. What do you want?”

“Can’t I just want to talk to my best friend, whom I love dearly and never see anymore?”

“You can,” Adam said. “But you generally do that from your own desk, not mine. Also, it's not my fault that you've only slept in your own bed three times in the last week.”

“Adam!”

Blush was an interesting color on Blue. It clashed rather horribly with the neon green streak Noah had dyed in her hair the other day—but the neon green streak also clashed horribly with her ripped purple overalls, so maybe it all balanced out in the end.

“I'm just saying,” Adam continued, “don't try to pass all the blame off on my double shift and weird boyfriend.”

To his surprise, that statement made Blue eye him carefully. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“The double shift?”

“The weird boyfriend, you idiot.”

“Could have gone either way,” Adam argued, although he couldn't quite keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. “What about him?”

Blue snagged one of his pens and started doodling on her overalls, as if owning ripped purple overalls wasn't anti-establishment enough already. “How are things going between you two? Since your… since that phone call?”

“They're good,” Adam said, and was surprised to find that for once in his life, he actually meant it. Good wasn't something he came across very often.

Blue drew a suspicious smiley face on her overalls. It sported a single raised eyebrow and a curled mouth and a judgmental stare that pointed directly at Adam. “So no problems at all?”

“I said good, not perfect.”

After all, Ronan had blown into this very dorm room yesterday morning to show Adam a caricatured painting of Gansey that he'd created using Gansey's sleeping face as a model. Adam had been working at his desk with his deaf ear pointed toward the door and all his focus directed toward his assignments. When Ronan had let the door slam shut behind the tail end of his hurricane, Adam had flinched. It had been instinctive, and unavoidable, and had nothing to do with Ronan himself, and he had still freaked out and left and refused to talk to Adam for the next several hours out of misplaced guilt.

So they were working on it.

But that was good too. It was nice to work for something that Adam actually thought he could get.

“There's already too much perfect in our friend group,” he continued. “Henry and Noah never even frown at each other, and don't think I didn't notice that Gansey’s wearing a lavender polo shirt today.”

“Coincidence,” Blue insisted.

“You guys matched outfits,” Adam replied, unrepentant. “Ronan and I have to have disagreements just to balance out the rest of you.”

“That's a terrible reason to have a fight.”

“You yell at Gansey for wearing boat shoes every day just to keep up your three-week streak.”

“This conversation isn't about me and Gansey.”

“The thing about a conversation,” Adam said, “is that you shouldn't start one if you don't want it to go both ways. Why are you suddenly asking about Ronan?”

At that, Blue finally looked up from the drawings on her overalls, rolling Adam’s pen between her palm and the desk. “I just… Are you sure you want to stay here for Thanksgiving instead of coming home with me? Because I know that you don't want to cause issues with money, but you know my mom always cooks too much food anyway, and you really wouldn't be imposing and my baby cousins would love to see you and I don't want you to have Thanksgiving with Ronan just because you don't think you have any other options.”

“Oh, Blue.” Adam reached out, rolled the pen out from under Blue’s hand, and started drawing. “I'm staying here for a lot of reasons. One reason is that I don't want to go back to Henrietta so soon after telling my father that I don't need to.”

“But Adam,” Blue protested, “you shouldn't—”

“Another,” Adam continued pointedly, “is that Calla always looks at me like I'm either going to destroy the house or fall down dead at any moment, just because she knows I notice when she's doing it. Also, your mom always burns the turkey, and Ronan has never actually burned anything that he's cooked in front of me. Not to mention that I genuinely like Ronan and am looking forward to making out with him over break. I'm pretty sure all of those are valid reasons. Do you disagree?”

Blue looked at him, blinked, looked down at the vines now twisting across the hem of her overalls, and sighed. “No. I just had to make sure I didn't need to beat Ronan up for you. And I was hoping I could convince you to come so I wouldn't have to suffer through my mom’s burnt turkey alone.”

“And the truth comes out,” Adam grinned, capping his pen. “Don’t worry about it, Blue. I'm sure Orla will show up with her husband for Thanksgiving dinner so she doesn't have to cook anything herself, and if Orla enjoys doing anything with you, it’s painting nails and complaining.”

“You got me there,” Blue said, then paused. “You realize that I'm never going to be able to wash these overalls now, right? These drawings are a symbol of our friendship and ability to have serious conversations without deflecting. I have to preserve them forever.”

“All I did was make squiggly lines,” Adam said. “If you really want something worth preserving, hand them to Ronan and give him a Sharpie.”

“He'd just write the lyrics to the Murder Squash Song across my ass.”

“Or he'd draw something really thoughtful on your front pocket and pretend Chainsaw did it.”

Blue considered that statement. “Knowing Ronan, he'd do both.” She clapped both hands on his shoulders—a distinctly Gansey gesture—and looked him in the eye. “He really is perfect for you.”

Then she hopped off his desk.

“Did you just… give me your blessing?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Isn't that Gansey’s job? Are you assigning each other parental duties now?”

“Sorry, gotta go, meeting Henry to tear holes in our clothes and drink tea from his expensive mugs.”

“Henry would never defile his vintage Madonna t-shirts and designer jeans.”

“My and Noah’s clothes,” Blue corrected. “Have fun with your calculus.”

Blue had been his best friend for over three years at this point. Adam didn't know why he kept making the mistake of attempting to understand her.

“Now, I restocked the coffee beans and cereal—and remembered to buy milk this time, before you ask,” Gansey said, glancing around the kitchen like the cabinets would help remind him of what he wanted to say. “Ronan said you two were fine to do the grocery shopping on your own, but I didn’t know if you would get a chance to go out before breakfast tomorrow so I wanted to make sure you didn’t have to worry about that. The lock on our door is still broken, so you might want to push the couch in front of it at night just in case. Declan and Matthew are welcome to stay in my room if they don’t want to book a hotel. I’m planning to return Sunday afternoon around four, but if anything happens before then, just give me a call and I can be back in three hours. In fact, if you think I might need to be here for any reason at all, say the word and I can cancel my plans. Maybe I should just call Helen right now and tell her to let Mom know that I can’t make it home for Thanksgiving after all. I’m sure she’d underst—”

“Gansey.” Adam had been planning to let Gansey tire himself out, but this was getting out of hand. “I have been self-sufficient for the last ten years. I'm pretty sure I can handle a week in the dorms, even if that week does involve Ronan.”

“Dickface,” Ronan called out from inside his room.

“Are you talking to me or Gansey?”

“Yes,” Ronan said.

Gansey’s face contorted like he wasn't sure whether to feel offended or amused. “Regardless. You'll call me if the need arises, won't you?”

“Yes, Gansey, we'll call you.” Adam pushed at Gansey's rolling suitcase with his toe, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the kitchen cabinets and slowly rolled back. “Now go enjoy your Thanksgiving.”

“You too.” Gansey considered Adam for a moment and then held out one hand for a fistbump. It was absurd and boyish and brilliantly Gansey, and Adam accepted it with a smile tugging at his lips.

Gansey's responding grin was blinding as he reached down and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. “Ronan, I'm leaving!”

“Good fucking riddance!” Ronan replied before sticking his head out of the doorway. “Watch your shifts into second gear. That's when the Pig stalls out most often.”

Adam wouldn't have thought it possible, but Gansey's smile widened. “Thanks, Lynch,” he said, and then he was gone, and Adam and Ronan were alone.

Adam turned and raised his eyebrows at Ronan, who very purposefully turned around and retreated back into his room. Unfazed, Adam followed him. “Second gear, huh?”

“You're the mechanic,” Ronan said. “Didn't you notice?”

“Oh, I noticed,” Adam said, “but I wasn't the one who made sure that Gansey knew too.”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, and kissed him.

They'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kissing Ronan Lynch still felt like starting a wildfire. Adam had to break away before they burned down the whole dorm.

As he did, he eyed the extra sheets draped across half of Ronan's room. “When are you going to let me see what's under those?”

“When I’m fucking done with it.”

He frowned. “‘It?’ Is all of that for one art piece?”

Ronan shrugged. “Dr. Azalea.”

“But I thought you already turned in your last assignment.”

“This,” Ronan gestured vaguely, “is for my first assignment.”

Adam felt his heart collide against his ribs, a bang rather than a thump. “Happiness?”

“Yeah.” Ronan tugged the sheets more securely over his stack of canvases. “It's stupid.”

“It's not.” Adam reached out and took one of Ronan's hands in both of his, rubbing his thumbs over Ronan's knuckles. “Now come on, what are we supposed to be buying for tomorrow?”

“This was a terrible idea.” Ronan looked about five seconds away from throwing the pasta he was cooking out the window. “Adam, why the fuck did you let me cook? We should have met them for lunch somewhere. I shouldn't have let them come here in the first place. We should have driven to D.C. We should have stayed here by ourselves. Fuck, this dish is shit.”

Adam peered over Ronan’s shoulder. “Doesn't look like shit to me.” He snagged a bite of penne with a fork before Ronan could stop him. “Doesn't taste like it either.”

“It’s shit compared to my mom’s,” Ronan said, and that was startling enough to make Adam turn off the stove and take the spatula from Ronan’s slightly shaking hands. He hadn't heard Ronan mention his mother since before his father had died. Actually, he'd never heard Ronan mention his mother at all.

“Ronan.” Adam frowned at his boyfriend’s hands, trying to find the right words. He'd never been particularly skilled at offering comfort. He'd never really needed to be. “It doesn't have to taste like your mom’s to be good. I'm sure they'll love it.”

“Matthew might,” Ronan muttered. “Declan’s going to hate it.”

“He won't,” Adam insisted, but the look on Ronan's face told Adam he knew that Adam had no idea what he was talking about. He was an only child, his parents were both alive and terrible, and he had never met Declan Lynch before in his life.

“I mean it,” Adam said, not sure how he would back up that statement, and then there was a knock at the door.

Ronan tensed, gave the pasta one last stir, opened the door—and was promptly tackled by a medium-sized bundle of brightly colored clothing and hair like sunshine.

“Ronan! I've missed you so much! Your hair is so short! How is college?”

It's mostly like high school,” Ronan said, voice a little rough, “but with better friends. Are you still growing?”

“Like a weed,” came from behind Matthew’s mass of curls. “If you don't watch out, he’ll end up taller than you, Ronan.”

“Doubtful,” Ronan said, shoulders stiff but eyes still soft because Matthew had stuck his tongue out at him in response. “Are you coming inside for lunch or what?”

“Or what,” Matthew replied, although he was already passing Ronan in the doorway.

Adam hid a smile in his shirt collar.

At the same moment, Matthew caught sight of him and bounded forward like a wayward basketball, only skidding to a halt to extremely vigorously shake Adam’s hand. “Hi! I'm Matthew, Ronan’s brother. It's great to meet you! What’s your name?”

Adam’s smile froze onto his face. Had Ronan seriously not told them—

“Hello, I’m Declan Lynch, and you must be Adam Parrish.” Ronan's older brother slipped past Matthew to introduce himself. He had Ronan’s sharp cheekbones, the type of suit that a millionaire would wear for a casual evening out on his own personal yacht, and a handshake with half of Matthew's enthusiasm and twice his firmness. “Matthew, don't you retain anything Ronan says?”

“I retain the things that matter, like that he said lunch was ready,” Matthew retorted. Then he glanced at Adam. “Um, not that you don't matter, obviously. I just forgot that you were going to be here the whole time. But now I'm even more excited to meet you! Ronan’s never had a boyfriend before.”

The Lynch in question was currently glaring at the pot on the stove—probably because he couldn't bring himself to glare directly at Matthew, Adam thought with amusement. “Shut up,” Ronan said, “and grab a plate.”

“I'll shut up if you let me drink beer with lunch,” Matthew said.

“Not a fucking chance,” Ronan replied.

Adam had no way of proving it. But when he turned around to shut the front door, he was pretty sure he glimpsed a small smile on Declan’s face.

The rest of Wednesday went so well that Adam had to refrain three times from asking Ronan what he'd been so worried about. As he’d expected, Matthew had nothing but compliments to bestow on the food Ronan made, and Declan didn't mention it at all, which Ronan claimed was its own kind of silent approval. After that, they spent most of the afternoon shopping for last-minute groceries—or rather, Ronan and Declan argued about what they needed to buy while Matthew stealthily added cans of whipped cream to the shopping cart behind their backs. By the time they reached the checkout line, there were at least fifteen cans tucked between the bags of sweet potatoes and fresh green beans, but the older Lynch brothers placed each new can on the conveyor belt without a word.

Declan made dinner and spent most of the meal talking about his job.

Matthew begged Ronan for beer unsuccessfully half a dozen times.

Ronan painted all through the night, telling Adam that with a little luck, he could be finished by the end of Thanksgiving break.

And then Thursday morning came.

Adam woke up to yelling, which was both familiar and discomfiting. For a moment, he couldn’t distinguish reality from his dream about the double-wide trailer he’d grown up in. The sheets felt scratchier. The room felt smaller. He even thought he heard the sound of breaking glass.

But then Declan shouted, “And it’d be nice if you’d answer your phone every once in a while,” the polar opposite of anything Robert Parrish would have said to his son, and Adam refocused.

“It’s college,” Ronan snapped. “I’m fucking busy.”

“Oh, please, you’re an art student.” Declan’s voice was scathing. “Don’t bother pretending that you’re drowning under some heavy workload.”

Adam decided to grab a pair of sweatpants and open the door before somebody got punched.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, doing his best to pretend that the walls weren’t paper-thin. “You’re up earlier than usual, Ronan.”

“Didn’t sleep,” Ronan growled, which Adam already knew. “I was working on an assignment for class.”

“And I’m sure it’s very pretty,” the eldest Lynch brother said. Ronan was still silently fuming behind the kitchen counter, but Declan’s expression had shifted from derisive to politely neutral the moment he caught sight of Adam. “Good morning, Adam. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” Adam said.

“Sugar? Cream?”

“Just a little cream is fine, thanks.”

“Gross,” Ronan muttered.

“You’re gross,” Matthew said over a yawn, wandering into the hallway. “What are we talking about?”

“Coffee,” Ronan said.

“Oh, yeah. That is gross.”

Adam furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought you two were staying in a hotel room?”

(It was the type of decision he had a feeling he would never understand—in his opinion, spending money on a hotel when there was a perfectly usable bed and couch in the suite was a frivolity and a waste. But Declan had thought a hotel room would be more comfortable, and so the money was spent.)

Matthew rubbed a hand across his eyes, yawning again. “We did.”

“But Matthew said he was going to use the restroom and ‘accidentally’ went back to sleep on your friend Gansey’s bed,” Declan explained.

“Lame,” Ronan said. But this time he reached out and ruffled Matthew’s hair, so Adam figured things would be all right.

Less than an hour later, the Lynch brothers were arguing again.

“What do you think you're doing?” Declan demanded.

“Making the spice rub for the fucking turkey, like I said I was going to,” Ronan growled.

“With those spices? You're doing it completely wrong.”

“No, I'm fucking not.”

“It doesn't need sage.”

“Yes, it does.”

“How would you even know?”

“Because I actually cared about helping Mom out with Thanksgiving dinner, unlike you, and I listened when she was teaching me! It's parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, like in that fucking song, but without the parsley because who the fuck needs parsley anyway. And then if you’re not a fucking idiot, you’ll remember that it also uses salt, pepper, and garlic powder. That's what she told me.”

“Yeah? Then I'm sure she would have loved to hear you repeat it back like that.”

“Guys,” Matthew whined.

Ronan turned to him. “Matthew, you always hung around the kitchen at Thanksgiving too. Tell Declan that he's wrong.”

Matthew bit his lip, eyes darting between the two of them, and said, “I'm sorry. I don't remember how Mom made it.”

Declan and Ronan both froze for such a long moment that Adam inexplicably remembered the drawing he’d seen on Ronan’s wall the first time he ever entered his room—Declan and Matthew wrestling in the grass, Ronan perched on Niall’s back, and Aurora Lynch smiling softly in the background.

Which was worse? To have never felt the kind of love that the Lynches offered each other, or to grow up surrounded by that love, only to have it all ripped away in a single bloody morning?

Declan sighed. “Maybe it has been too long since I helped Mom in the kitchen,” he said. “Go ahead and do what you want, Ronan.”

Ronan’s knuckles were white as he gripped the edges of the mixing bowl. “Who even fucking cares about the turkey anymore?”

“I do!” The turkey was lying on the other end of the counter, so Matthew nudged it within Ronan’s reach. “Come on, Ro, I’ll help you with the turkey.”

“I can start peeling potatoes,” Adam offered.

Declan stiffened like he had forgotten Adam was there. But when he turned to face him, his smile looked unshakable. It would have been enough to make Adam question whether Ronan and Declan were actually related, except that they shared too many facial features. “That’d be great, Adam,” he said, as if tension wasn’t stretched between everyone in the room like bungee cords just waiting to snap. “But I don’t want you to feel like we have a monopoly on tonight’s menu. Do you have any family recipes you want to make?”

Adam flinched—but a quick look at the rigid lines of Ronan’s back told him that one family’s worth of drama was enough for this Thanksgiving, so he covered it by pulling the bag of potatoes closer to him. “No,” he said simply. “My parents never cared much for Thanksgiving.”

Ronan snorted, and not kindly. “You can say that again.”

Matthew looked between his siblings and Adam, frowning. “So. What are we doing for lunch?”

Lunch was an argument, as Ronan thought they would be too full to eat dinner and Declan thought he was just trying to be difficult. Cooking was an argument, as they were constantly bumping shoulders and using each other's mixing spoons and changing the oven temperature. Chainsaw flew into the kitchen at one point, looking for scraps, and that sparked yet another argument, as Declan couldn't decide which was more horrifying: that Ronan had broken the dorm’s rules to get a pet, that said pet was a raven, or that Ronan was planning on feeding her some of the leftover turkey later.

When the Lynch brothers got along, it made this too-large-for-a-couple-of-college-freshmen dorm feel like a home.

When they were fighting, it made this too-small-for-a-couple-of-angry-boys dorm feel like a certain double-wide trailer that Adam was still trying to put behind him.

And on top of that, he was developing a migraine—because everything sounded louder when you could only hear out of one ear.

So when Matthew went digging through their grocery bags, surfacing only to exclaim that they had forgotten to buy pumpkin pie filling, Adam jumped at the chance to get out of Walton.

“I think there are a few grocery stores just off-campus that are still open on Thanksgiving,” he said. “I can bike around and see if any of them carry pumpkin pie filling.”

“Oh, we couldn't ask that of you,” Declan said.

“It's really not a problem,” Adam replied. “Besides, I want pumpkin pie just as much as Matthew does.”

“Don't be stupid,” Ronan said. Then, when Adam turned to frown at him, “It’s fucking freezing outside.” And he tossed the keys to the BMW at Adam.

Adam caught them out of reflex and sheer luck, furrowing his eyebrows. If he'd been having a shitty day, how much shittier had Ronan been feeling? He’d spent the entire day arguing with the only family he had left. “Ronan,” he started, and then hesitated, not wanting to offend Declan. In the end, he settled on, “Do you want to come with me?”

Ronan just shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nah,” he said. “Gotta keep an eye on the turkey.”

Adam frowned at him again, but when Ronan didn't budge, he had no choice but to leave.

Buying pumpkin pie filling on Thanksgiving afternoon took Adam almost an hour. It turned out to be more difficult to find an open store than he'd anticipated, and if he'd lingered in the one store he had found, walking through every aisle and relishing that it was quiet enough for him to hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights… well, no one could prove it.

In any case, by the time he returned, Ronan was no longer in the kitchen. Instead, his awful electronic music was blaring inside his room.

“The turkey finished cooking, so Ronan decided to let us make the rest of dinner while he went back to painting.” Declan didn't roll his eyes, but with that tone of voice, he didn't need to.

“Well,” Adam replied, “he’s extremely dedicated to his art. He wants everything he works on to be perfect. That's what makes him such a good artist.”

Declan looked like he couldn't imagine Ronan Lynch being dedicated to anything. “Good for him,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “Were you able to find the pumpkin filling, then?”

Adam nodded.

“Awesome!” Matthew sprang up from where he'd been lounging on the couch. “Do you want to help me make the pie, Adam?”

What Adam really thought he should do was check on Ronan. But Matthew’s eyes were shining with excitement, and Adam found himself unable to refuse.

Between making pie, throwing together a few side dishes, and reheating the turkey once everything else had finished baking, hours passed without Adam noticing. Suddenly it was seven o’clock, and dinner was ready.

“We usually try to eat by five,” Declan said, sliding into his chair at the kitchen table, “but with putting everything together ourselves, I suppose delays were inevitable. I hope you don't mind, Adam.”

Adam thought Declan must not have actually gone to college to believe that a seven o’clock dinner was some horrible catastrophe. “It's fine,” he assured him. “Should I go get Ro—?”

“RONAN!” Matthew shouted out of nowhere, making Adam jump. “DINNER!”

“He's fifteen feet away, not five hundred,” Declan chided, although even he seemed unable to properly discipline Matthew. “I’m pretty sure you didn't have to scream that loudly in order for him to hear you.”

“Yeah, but it was fun,” Matthew grinned. “And apparently necessary, because he's STILL NOT OUT HERE!”

A pause.

“RONAN?!”

“I'm coming, I'm coming, Jesus,” Ronan said, shrugging on his leather jacket as he came out of his room. “I had to finish the thing I was working on, calm the fuck down.”

“We were all waiting for you,” Matthew said, in a supercilious tone he could only keep up for half the sentence before breaking into giggles, but Adam’s eyes narrowed as he took a second look at Ronan’s hands.

Declan followed his line of sight and frowned. “Ronan… Ronan, are those bandages? Are you all right?”

“Calm the fuck down,” Ronan repeated. “My hands slipped, it's not a big fucking deal.”

Declan’s frown only deepened. “You cut yourself… on art supplies?”

“Ever heard of a palette knife?” Ronan said, scathing.

“Nope!” Matthew broke in cheerfully. “Now come on, Ronan, sit down, we have to pray.”

Ronan's shoulders stiffened. “Right.” He sat down next to Adam. “I guess that's your job now, Declan?”

For the first time since Adam had met him, Declan looked visibly uncomfortable. “Actually, I was thinking we could all say it together?”

Ronan clasped his hands together so tightly, Adam thought it must be hurting the cuts on his palms. “Fine.”

He bowed his head, and after a moment, Matthew and Declan followed suit. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ Our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” Adam said along with them, although he wasn't sure he believed in gifts or bounty, let alone a benevolent God who supposedly offered them. It just seemed like the polite thing to do.

When they were done, Matthew's head popped back up like a puppy's. “Okay! Let's eat!”

Declan smiled, passed Matthew the mashed potatoes, and stood up to begin cutting into the turkey. Adam got so caught up in filling his plate with green beans and sweet potato casserole and stuffing and peas and turkey and gravy and cranberry sauce—he may have been getting three meals a day from the dining hall, but putting as much food on his plate as he could, whenever he could, was second-nature by now—that he didn't look over at Ronan until he'd sampled everything in reach.

“Ronan,” Adam said, “this turkey is amazing. Whenever I go to Thanksgiving at Blue’s house, her mom always burns it and makes us eat it anyway, but I… Ronan, why is your plate empty?”

Ronan was staring off at nothing.

“Yeah, Ronan, if you don't get some food soon, I'm finishing off the sweet potato casserole without you.”

No, not nothing—the empty chair at the head of the table.

Adam started to get a hard feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Ronan?”

Ronan stood abruptly and nearly knocked his chair over. “I need a drink,” he said before heading toward the refrigerator.

“A drink,” Declan said drily.

Ronan threw open the refrigerator door.

“Are you serious? Beer on Thanksgiving?”

He grabbed one, seemingly at random, and slammed it on the counter. “Yeah, Declan, beer on fucking Thanksgiving. Who's gonna stop me?”

“I—”

“No, I mean it,” Ronan said. “Who's gonna stop me? Because Mom hasn't spoken in months, Dad’s dead, and I don't have to listen to a word you say. You're not our fucking parents.”

Declan went completely still, as if this was another one of Ronan's paintings. Adam thought he knew which emotion Dr. Azalea would accept this one for. Heartbreak.

“Shit,” Ronan said, “I’m sorry.”

The door slammed shut behind him when he left.

For a moment, silence.

Then, “Ronan, wait!”

Matthew scooted out of his chair and hurried after him.

Adam got up and ran to Ronan's room, intending to use his window to see if Ronan headed into the parking lot, but when he finally tugged Ronan's door open, he couldn't do anything but stare.

At last, the sheets Ronan had been using to hide his happiness assignment had been tossed aside, leaving the project in full view.

It was a wreck.

Adam thought Ronan had actually been proud of how his artwork was turning out, but that was clearly no longer the case. Several of the canvases had been slashed through, while others looked like they had been kicked in. A paint tube had been squeezed out over a few more, leaving behind red paint hardened and flaking to the touch like dried blood. Preliminary sketches had been torn up and scattered over the mess, perverted confetti celebrating creative disaster. And when Adam finally remembered to lean out and look for Ronan, all he noticed was another pile of Ronan's ruined paintings that he’d apparently thrown out of the window. Everything was just—

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s his art,” Adam said. “He's been working on these canvases for weeks, insisting that he was getting close to finishing, insisting that his next idea was going to be the right one, and now it's all destroyed.”

But when he turned around, Declan wasn't staring at the ruined paintings. He was staring at the objects that Adam had gotten used to after spending so much time in Ronan's room.

“What?” Adam asked. “You can't tell me you don't know about Ronan's dreams.”

“Of course I know about his dreams,” Declan snapped, his eyes too wide and horrified to make his harsh tone effective. “But these are…”

Adam looked around and tried to remember how it had felt to see Ronan's room for the first time. The unnaturally bent sword, the twisted clock that ticked backwards, the dark stain on his floor that was now mostly hidden by ripped canvases and red paint…. That pit in his stomach came back. He'd known the objects weren't exactly fun dream souvenirs, known they could even look menacing, but they were just dispersed among the other objects, right? Tucked between self-bouncing balls and clocks that worked properly, hidden behind dream lights and whimsical inventions? Everyone had nightmares sometimes, and anyway, Adam hadn't seen Ronan dream up anything bad since that night at the campground. Of course, he hadn't been around Ronan every night—but he'd been around sometimes—and Ronan had never objected when Adam asked to spend the night, he'd never said that there was anything to be worried about—but then he was always the one who woke up first, and last night he had never fallen asleep at all.

“This isn't normal,” Adam said. It wasn't a question because he already knew the answer.

He knew it wasn't normal.

But Ronan had been so happy for the last few weeks—he’d thought Ronan had been so happy—that he'd stopped worrying.

Adam felt, abruptly, like a terrible boyfriend.

“No, it’s not normal,” Declan said derisively. “None of this is fucking normal. I haven’t seen him dream like this since…”

“Since Kavinsky?” Adam guessed.

“How do you know about Kavinsky?”

For some reason, the question snapped Adam into action. “This may surprise you,” he said, “but being in a relationship occasionally requires communication.” Except, apparently, when you destroy weeks’ worth of hard work. No, that’s not worth mentioning at all. Adam pushed the thought out of his mind. “Listen, Declan, I still have Ronan’s keys. That means he can’t have gotten that far. You should take your car and look around off-campus. He likes to go to St. Agnes or Nino’s, but check liquor stores too. I’ll search his usual on-campus hideouts because you can’t exactly find those on Google Maps.”

Just then, someone started banging on the front door. For one hopeful moment, Adam thought Ronan might have changed his mind about storming out. But when he flung the door open, only Matthew was waiting on the other side, red-faced and breathless.

“I tried to run after him, but by the time I went into the hallway, he was already gone. I went down the stairs and looked around, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t figure out which direction he’d taken.”

“That’s okay, Matthew,” Adam said. “We’re going to find him. You stay here in case he comes back, all right? Do you have my phone number?”

Matthew shook his head, so Adam took Matthew’s phone out of his hand and punched his number into his contacts, sending himself a text so he would have Matthew’s number as well. Then he did the same to Declan’s phone, grabbed his coat off the couch, and felt in his pockets to make sure Ronan hadn’t taken his keys without Adam noticing after all. They were there, a cool and hard and reassuring weight.

In the same time span, Declan had barely managed to put on one shoe. “You seem to have this search-team business down to a science. Have you… has something like this happened before?”

Adam felt something shatter inside of him. “Not in a while,” he managed to say.

Then he was gone.

Adam checked everywhere. Every classroom Ronan had bribed or broken his way into, every tree he’d sketched, every bench he’d fallen asleep on. By the time he got back to Walton, it was almost nine, Thanksgiving dinner was a forgotten feast weighing down the kitchen table, and nobody had been able to find Ronan Lynch.

Finally, feeling guilty and desperate, Adam called Gansey.

“Adam! I’m so happy to hear from you! I hope you’re having a lovely Thanksgiving. I’m just,” he hiccupped, “watching Food Network with Helen. Because obviously we haven’t seen enough—hic—food for one day.”

Gansey sounded sleepy, wine-drunk, and content. Adam could picture him leaning against Helen on an extravagantly luxurious couch in their living room, even though he had yet to actually see a photograph of Gansey’s sister. It made him feel even worse about saying, “Ronan is missing again.”

Gansey caught himself mid-laugh. “What? But I thought—”

“I don’t think it’s anything serious,” Adam was quick to add. “I mean… you know. Now that we know the truth about that one time. But he left during dinner and Declan and I have checked all the usual places and I….” He sighed. “I would just feel better if I knew where he was.”

Gansey was quiet for a while. “Did he take his car?”

“No.”

More silence. “Did you check the roof?”

Adam felt his heart stop, restart, and stutter again, all in the space of a moment. “The roof?! Gansey, I thought we just established that Ronan wasn’t—”

“Not like that!” Gansey interrupted hastily. “Ronan and I used to go up to the roof to talk. We haven’t been up since… but anyway, it’s worth a shot.”

Adam’s heart did its best to reestablish a natural rhythm. He didn’t think it was particularly successful. “Oh. Okay. Thanks, Gansey.”

“Do you need me to come up? I wasn’t being flippant, you know, when I said I would the other day. If you’re concerned that Ronan might—”

“No!” Adam’s voice was too loud for the near-empty campus. “No, Gansey, you really don’t need to come. You’ve already been helpful enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Adam hesitated, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. “I’m sorry for calling you like this. Don’t worry, all right? Ronan is fine. This isn’t like before.”

“Just text me when you find him, okay?”

Gansey’s voice was smooth, measured, and nowhere near immature enough to belong to an eighteen-year-old boy.

Adam tried not to let the guilt crush him like a cartoon anvil when he said, “Of course I will, Gansey. Have a nice night.”

After a moment’s indecision, Adam ducked into Ronan and Gansey’s suite on his way up to the roof. It had gotten cold, and Ronan’s leather jacket offered almost no insulation, so he just wanted to grab a couple hats and maybe a blanket before heading up to the roof.

Of course, Matthew Lynch stopped him in his tracks.

“Did you find Ronan yet?!”

Adam shook his head. “Still looking. Gansey told me about another place I haven’t checked yet.”

“Okay,” Matthew said before handing Adam a brown paper bag.

Adam frowned. “What is this?”

“Well, you both pretty much missed dinner, so I filled up some plastic containers for you,” he said. “They should still be warm. There are forks and knives in there too.”

“I—thank you, Matthew.”

“I had to do something while I waited,” Matthew shrugged. “Now I’m working on this.”

He turned around in his seat and gestured at the kitchen table, on which rested a medium-size square canvas. From the underlying design, Adam recognized it as one of the ones that Ronan had elected to squirt paint over rather than completely mutilate, but it was getting harder and harder to make that distinction. Matthew was methodically covering every inch of the canvas in a gentle, chrysanthemums-at-sunrise yellow.

“You’re repainting one of Ronan’s canvases?” Adam asked in surprise.

Matthew shrugged. “He said he was having trouble with his happiness assignment. I thought this might help.”

Adam looked at the bag of food in his hands, at the serene smile on Matthew’s face, and at the yellow canvas. For the first time, he understood why Ronan had such a soft spot for Noah Czerny.

“Paint fast,” he said. “Ronan will be back soon.”

He draped one of Gansey’s spare blankets over his shoulders and took the stairs as high as he was allowed to go, and then higher. The door to the roof read, Locked: Authorized Access Only, but when he pushed on it, it swung open.

Adam poked his head out. The wind whistled in his one good ear, making it difficult to hear anything.

He squinted into the darkness.

“Ronan?”

@reytrashqueen @nymphhadora @thehufflepuffshuffle @thegreywarenloveshim @siriiusblcck @thefangirldiaries98 @adamprrishcycle @xerxesians @lirapheus @sacrebleusargent @laniemoriarty @actuallyronanlynch @iridescentsparrows @sapphicclary

#pynch #trc #pynch fic #pynch fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #i wrote this #kotib #kids of the in between #gangsey #otp: the ocean burned #otp: scio quid hoc est

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