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reborrowing · 9 months

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a mouse in the basement - part 1/?

sorry for starting 546 stories instead of finishing things. kind of. this isn't as writery for me to work on. chapters linked in my pinned

David has been imprisoned. He's not sure where, he's not sure why, but he has no chance of freeing himself. Except now he's not quite alone. Kikitok links are here, if you want to try and puzzle out what the borrower character is saying throughout (more relevant later, honestly) word count: ~800 content: kidnapping & captivity, blood/injury, restraints, ~language barrier~ kind of a disclaimer note that arguably this should go on my whump blog instead of here, thematically speaking. But the point is more to flex my conlang (even if that's not yet obvious in this piece) and this blog is where I've been putting Kíkítok. I'm not really including particularly graphic violence or torture etc anyway

The only things to do in the basement were sleep and wonder why he’d been brought here. David was tired of both. The first few days, he had wrestled with the chain around his ankles and the ties around his wrist. He’d resigned himself to the aches of having his arms pinned behind his back for hours. He’d waddled around the perimeter in search of an escape. He hadn’t found one. He hadn’t even found a reason why he was here.

He didn’t think he was important enough to warrant a ransom and whoever was holding him down here only bothered to acknowledge him for about forty-five minutes per day. That was only to keep him fed. He imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios about being sold and enslaved or killed off for his organs, but he’d been down here for weeks. He didn’t have dignity but he wasn't really being humiliated either. Nothing happened, he was just locked in this crushing, monotonous isolation.

David slipped back into consciousness and stared up at the thin window on the far wall. It was still dark out. He hummed to himself, imagining words he couldn’t form through the duct tape over his mouth.

Something fell past the window.

It was such a brief flash that in any other context, if there was anything else happening, David wouldn’t have even noticed it. Something small and metal plinked across the floor. After several days of pretending to watch paint dry for entertainment, it may as well have been a fireworks show.

He didn’t waste the energy to stand and shuffled across the basement on his knees, chains clattering behind him. On the floor, almost glittering in the moonlight, was a thumbtack that hadn’t been there before. David hobbled forward towards it, trying to imagine something he could do with it. It was the only sharp thing he’d found down here and he really wanted it to be useful in some way, but it was too short to pick his cuffs or the locks around his ankles, even if he had the dexterity to try. He left it where it lay.

Another flash of movement drew his eyes to a small shadow along the wall.

Mouse, he thought at first, then, what the hell?!

The creature there was mouse-sized, as they hunched against the wall it was clear they had a perfectly humanoid shape, even covered up in a tiny gray dress. It was just that they couldn’t be more than a few inches tall. Tiny black eyes glittered up from underneath a miniature hood.

Is this real? Did the man upstairs do this to you? Is this what I’m here for?

They stared at each other for several seconds, both looking terrified. The creature—person?—took several steps to the right to start looking for an escape. David wished she would find one, but knew there was no way out but up, even for a mouse.

“Ah-I’m sorry. Pease, don’t hurt me,” the tiny thing gasped.

David shook his head no, eyes wide. He automatically started to protest that he would ever do such a thing but the duct tape over his mouth caught the words before they could get out. All he could do was stare at the poor thing.

Whatever she was, her situation was at least as bad as David’s, probably worse. Her skirt and her coat, which was fastened with a single button nearly the size of her head, were both dripping wet. She clutched at her side as if in pain and her already tiny steps were slowed by a severe limp.

David sat down and tried to look as harmless as possible (he felt most of this had already been done for him, what with the restraints). He wished he could do more to try and calm the woman's nerves. Communication was next to impossible with both hands and tongue held back. He nodded his head towards himself in a “come here” gesture that was much vaguer than he’d like.

The little woman shook her head and continued her hobbling retreat.

David leaned forward and tried again. You’re freezing, he thought as he watched her squeeze himself behind a table leg and hunker down. The cement floors would only make the cold worse. He mimed shivering as best as he could with his arms behind his back and nodded towards her, then stopped as he nodded back toward himself. Let me help you.

“I’m sorry, piyískasara wun. I’m sorry.”

David furrowed his brow as he tried to parse what the woman said before registering it as another language. He leaned back and sighed.

He refused to let the little stranger die. If he couldn’t help directly, he could still share. The shitty camping cot he’d been allowed had come with an equally shitty fleece blanket, the sort you leave in the closet for decades. Slowly and awkwardly, he kicked it across the room. It was thin and hardly any comfort to David, but it would be more than excessive for the mouse-woman on the other side of the room, presuming she was real.

#gt #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #gt writing #giant/tiny #borrowers #my writing #kíkítok #a mouse in the basement

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a-strange-inkling · 1 year

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@hellcheerxmas

Day 5: Snowman

Hawkins, Indiana 1992

“Bug, quick get me more snow,” Eddie hands the tin bucket to the four-year-old. “We’re falling behind over here.”

Olivia takes the handle hurriedly and heads toward the snow bank.

“Wivvy, wait!” Maggie calls after her in distress, waddling as fast as she can in her sister’s hand-me-down pink snowsuit. “Me too! Pweese me too!”

“Come on, Maggie!” she calls, pausing to grab her tiny hand.

“I think he’s fine.” Chrissy laughs, finishing up with the red chalk, admiring their creation. “What more do you want?”

“Need I remind you that we are outnumbered here, sweetheart.” Eddie circles around her to the back, adjusting the jacket. “Steve has an extra set of hands for embellishments.”

“They’re three-year-old hands, and Gwen went in with Milo a half hour ago.” she points out. “Besides, whatever they’ve made can’t be better than our guy.”

“Ten more minutes!” Dustin calls from the house, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand. “You all better wrap it up.”

“We know, Henderson!” Steve yells back. “Get back inside! No sneak peaks!”

“You hear that, Liv?” Eddie calls over his shoulder.

“We’re coming, Daddy!” she replies. “We’re coming!” She and Maggie return with the bucket as fast as their little legs can carry them. Poor Maggie falls face forward into the snow, the same way Livvy used to when she was a toddler, luckily cushioned by the puffy padding.

“Man down!” Eddie shouts, making Chrissy turn to go pick her up.

“I’m otay!” she assures, lifting up an arm.

Olivia hands him the bucket and they all work to finish up the last touches to their snowman.

“I don’t like that Dustin is judging, we wanted someone unbiased, and everyone knows he loves Steve more.”

“He loves you both equally,” Chrissy admonishes with a gasp.

Eddie makes a comically doubtful face at that. “He’s loved Steve longer.”

“Tee Tee!” Maggie exclaims, excited just at the sound of Steve’s name.

“No Maggie, no Uncle Steve.” Eddie replies.

“Awwww.” she coos.

“We all know who she loves more.” Eddie points out, making Chrissy snort and lean up to give him a quick kiss.

He smiles, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her back. “Well, at least I’m your favorite.” he grins against her lips.

“Okay!” Dustin comes back out, this time dressed for the snow. “Time's up! Harringtons, Munsons, step away from your snowmen.”

They all gather back in the middle of the yard as Dustin assesses their work.

“Tee Tee!” Maggie runs to Steve on sight. “Maggie May!” He immediately scoops her up and kisses her all over her face, coaxing a squeaky laugh to bubble out of her.

“Margaret,” Eddie snags her back. “Stop consorting with the enemy.”

“Daddy!” she squirms in his hold, almost growling in her raspy little demon voice that she’s recently been developing.

“You too, Olivia!” he quips, seeing his eldest already making snow angels with David.

She sits up with a pout, crossing her arms.

Treason everywhere.

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser, Munson,” Steve chuckles. “We all know who the winning team is here.”

Eddie squints over at their sculpture that Dustin is currently looking over. “Did you give your snowman a snow dog!?”

“We sure did.” Steve replies smugly, high-fiving Dusty.

“With socks for ears!?”

“Just like Jacks, Uncle Eddie!” Charlie pipes up, hugging his leg, referring to the Harrington’s basset hound puppy.

“That’s nice, Charlie,” he pats the boy's head. “But it’s totally cheating!”

“Eddie.” Chrissy looks skyward.

“Hey, there were no rules against it!”

“It’s a snowman contest, Harrington,” Eddie counters. “We were supposed to make one thing. One snowman.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, Dustin loves dogs, so I’m sure he’ll overlook it.”

“No arguing between the competitors, please.” Dustin says authoritatively as he walks past them to the Munson’s snowman. “A guitarist, nice…is he… bleeding on his eye?”

“No, it’s a red thunderbolt.” Eddie snaps.

“Ah.” he furrows his brows as he inspects it a little closer.

“It’s David Snowie.” Chrissy tells him with an amused little giggle, making everyone nearly melt at her cuteness.

“Oh, I love a good pun.” Dustin smiles.

“But is a pun as good as a dog, Henderson?”

“They should be disqualified for two entries, Dustin.” Eddie speaks up.

“We did say only one snowman, Steve.”

“It’s not a snowman, it’s a snow dog!”

“Pizza’s here!” Gwen calls from the back door, breaking up the contest, Milo on her hip. The kids all start booking it back to the house. “Pizza!!”

“Yes, I think I’ll need sustenance before I make my decision.” Dustin speculates.

#hellcheercountdown #hellcheer countdown #hellcheer #tbc #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #my fanfiction #my writing

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akimagies · 3 years

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late night phone calls: Matt Simmons

Matt Simmons x female!Reader (Rossi’s daughter)

WORD COUNT: 2,136

WARNINGS: tw: mentions of Scratch

SUMMERY: Based off of 13x01, and how I see the events of it happening between Matt Simmons, and his fiancé Y/N Rossi that night

A/N: so just a little heads up: yes, this character’s father is the david rossi AND the communications liaison for the team. no, i do not have her mother being married or even divorced to david. she (and her twin brother) are byproducts of a one night stand between their parents, and the two had shared custody of them. ((i am thinking of making this a series, so if you like this please comment or message me saying i should continue this))

Late night phone calls during the night were never the best to happen, especially because it wasn’t from either of the two people sleeping in the bed together. Y/N Rossi had recently just started her maternity leave, and the short hours of sleep had just started since there was a newborn baby in the home. It seemed like the little baby girl in the house could wake up to a pin dropping on the floor. It also didn’t help that their three-year-old son liked to wake them up early in the morning as well. So, when Matt and Y/N heard one of their phone’s ringing, the two immediately shot up from their positions on their bed, and leaned over to the nightstand to see which one of them was getting the call. When Y/N looked at her screen though, it showed nothing but some Facebook and Instagram notifications.

“Simmons here.” Was what Y/N heard from the other side of the bed. She was thankful that it wasn’t her own phone call. With the baby still trying to get a sleeping schedule, the poor woman was exhausted.

“Hey-hey! Penelope calm down, repeat what you said but slower.” Matt repeated as all he heard on the other line was just gibberish. Penelope finally calmed down on the other side of the line what was going on. Scratch was back and six team members, including his future father-in-law, signals were all offline. Matt was the one member that wasn’t on the BAU to know about all the current information on Scratch. They choose him since he would be someone that wouldn’t be with the team incase Scratch attacked, and Penelope would be able to call to help with the case and actually know what was happening. “Alright, I’ll be at the office as fast as I can.” Matt said as he swung his legs over his side of the bed and started to head for the closet to put some actual cloth on, instead of the boxers he was wearing.

With the lights and the movement that happening, Y/N sat up from the bed and looked over at her fiancé. “What’s going on? Why are you getting dressed?” She asked as she sat up in bed, turning her lamp on as she looked over at Matt getting dressed.

“Garcia called me; she needs me to come in to help her.” Matt told her as he looked over at her as he threw one of his shirts on before grabbing a button up to put on over the shirt.

“Well, I guess that means I should get up and start getting dressed too. Pen’s probably going to be ringing me soon. I could call my mom up and just drop off Alexander and Lacie with her.” She said rubbing her eyes as she slowly started to sit up, but Matt hurried over to her and pushed her shoulder’s back down towards the bed.

“Nope, Penelope strictly said that you were not to be called onto the case Y/N. You just had a baby. You need some sleep, and since the IRT disbanded, I’ve been dying for a case.” Matt said as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of her forehead. “I will be back as soon as I can, alright?”

“Alright.” Y/N said smiling as she looked up at Matt and smiled up at him. “I love you, and be careful, please.” She said as she squeezed his hand tightly.

“I always am, aren’t I?” he asked her smiling before placing a quick kiss onto her lips before he walked out of the bedroom door and hurried down the steps, knowing that the team really need his help. He was glad that he didn’t tell Y/N, knowing if he did, it would have worried her even more then she was already.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall back asleep, except this time, it was her phone that woke her up. “Hello?” She asked as she answered the phone.

“Is this Miss Rossi?” the female voice on the other side of the line asked.

“Yes, this is she, can I ask who this is?” Y/N asked a she soon stood up from the bed and started to walk over to the closet.

“This is Nurse Hugh’s over at D.C General Hospital. Your father, David Rossi, was brought in tonight with the rest of his team. Since you are his emergency contact, we decided to notify you. He is though refusing medical treatment for right now, so we would really appreciate it if you could come down at this hour and speak some sense into him.” The nurse asked her over the phone.

Of-course her father was refusing treatment, it didn’t shock her at all. “Yes, I will be down as soon as I can.” She said to the woman over the phone, before hanging up and hurrying to throw on some cloths that looked appropriate, all before hurrying and throwing a diaper bag together for little Lacie, and pack some snacks and things to entertain Alexander. She knew that she would have to bring her son and the little baby with her now, to try and convince her father to actually get medical treatment.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a short time to drive to the hospital, and soon enough, she was walking in with Alexander holding her right hand and walking, while she had Lacie in her stroller. “What the hell are you doing here? Your supposed to be on maternity leave, not working a case?” Luke asked once he saw the woman walking in with her baby to the hospital where all the team members. He soon grabbed the stroller out of her hands and started to walk with her while pushing the stroller.

“I’m not coming to work the case Luke, I’m my dad’s emergency contact. So, they called me to say he was denying medical treatment.” She said before following Luke to the room where her father was staying in. Once inside, she saw her father laying on the hospital bed, with a bandage taped around the hair line on his forehead. “Now, why the hell are you denying medical treatment?” Y/N asked her father as she watched Luke place the baby stroller off to the side for her.

“I said, I would accept medical treatment once Luke and Spence went to my office and opened my desk to grab those Cubs season tickets that I’ve been promising him.” Rossi said, giving his daughter a pointed look, as to stay just go with it.

“Alright, well can you two head off then? I would really appreciate it if my father was actually checked out by the doctors.” She told the two men standing in front of her before watching them walk out of the room.

“Grandpa, up.” Alexander said as he put up his arms while standing on the side of his bed. The two were very close, maybe it was the fact that her father insisted on Sunday dinners with the family now.

Y/N walked over to the side of the bed and put her hands under Alexander’s arms and picked him up to sit on the edge of the bed, as she pushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. “You didn’t call your brother or mother about this all did you?” Rossi asked his daughter, hoping that she wouldn’t have called either.

“Mom, no. She would have been glad that you were in here and said you deserved it. It may have been decades since everything, but mom keeps grudges. Nicholas on the other hand I did call.?” She said as she soon saw her father about to start lecturing her on calling her twin brother this late at night. “I called him just to let him know what’s going on, besides he’s not even asleep yet. He’s off in California working on a case.” She told her father. It wasn’t a surprise that THE David Rossi, who started the BAU, would have twins that would both be working as Special Agents. While Y/N now worked for the BAU with her father, she at first worked before with the IRT, where she met her fiancé. While, her twin brother Nicholas worked for NCIS.

“Well, I’m glad. I only one worry child for tonight.” Rossi told his daughter smiling. Soon enough, the doctors were allowed to come in and check Rossi for the injuries he might have sustained in the car accident.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a few hours, but the team had been able to catch Scratch before he could do any more harm to anyone. It might have been wrong to say, but Matt felt amazing right now. He had been missing the thrill of being out there in the field, working on taking down an unsub. Yet, all he wanted to do now after taking down Scratch, was take his family home. Which is why he was standing in the open door, looking into Rossi’s hospital room to see Y/N and Alexander both curled up on the tiny couch with one another, while Lacie was asleep in her stroller. “I told her that she needed her rest.” Matt said sighing as he walked into the room.

“And you really thought she would listen? I raised her; I know she has selective hearing.” Rossi told Matt smiling as he chuckled shaking his head. “Take them home, you all need your rest. Their keeping me over night just to make sure nothing is wrong with me. Then you all can come be my ride home since my car isn’t here.” Rossi told Matt smiling.

“I’ll just leave Y/N’s keys here for you, then you can just drive home and we’ll all come over later in the day for dinner.” Matt said smiling before walking over to where Y/N was sleeping, and shaking her shoulder gently. “Hey, time to go home and get some sleep there.” Matt spoke quietly, trying not to wake up Alex in her arms.

Y/N nodded her head before sitting up from the bed slowly before getting up and passing over slowly before looking over at her father. “Are you sure you are okay for us to leave you for the night?” She asked her father as she soon started to wheel Lacie around the room.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine. You two get some sleep, and make sure my grandchildren are up and ready to eat some of grandpa Rossi’s food tomorrow.” Rossi told his daughter smiling.

“Well Alexander is the only one that can eat your food, as for Lacie, I can’t promise she’s going to be up. She likes to take multiple naps throughout the day.” Y/N said smiling as she walked over to her dad and kiss his forehead. “Love ya dad.” She said smiling.

“Love you too sunshine.” Rossi said smiling as he watched the couple soon walk out of the room.

“Alright, let’s go home and get these kids to bed.” Matt said smiling as the two of them soon walked out to his black SUV that was parked near the front of the hospital.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It seemed as if sleep was just not for the two parents tonight once they got back home. Alex had woken up right when the car stopped, so Matt had gone to go read the young boy a book. While that was happening, Lacie had decided to wake up as well, though she was waking up because she was hungry. So, Y/N had heated up a bottle for the little girl. By the time that the two children had back fallen asleep, it was near 3 in the morning.

The two parents soon laid back down in their bed after the event full night. Y/N placed her head on Matt’s chest and soon asked, “We can do this right?”

“Do what?”

“Be two working FBI agents, while also being parents of two kids?”

“Of-course we can.”

“A-are you sure?”

Matt soon moved up a little to look down at her. “Of-course we can, we are two badass parents that can handle everything that’s thrown at us.” He told her smiling.

Y/N soon let out a yawn. “Your right we are two badass parents.” She said smiling

“And now these two badass parents need their sleep.”

“Oh, you are correct about that. I love you.” She said as she let her eyes flutter shut.

“I love you too.” Matt whispered to her before pressing a kiss into her hair, and letting his eyes shut as well.

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #lumosinlove #gossipgirl!au #wolfstar #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #hazelverse #harry potter #Harry Potter au

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a-supernatural-writer · 3 years

Note

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look.

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge.

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining.

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them.

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy.

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest.

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes.

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko.

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green.

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look.

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess.

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour.

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute.

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it.

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips.

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night.

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along.

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so.

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions.

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights.

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here.

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it.

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to.

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort.

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks.

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings.

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat.

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm.

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires.

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them.

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed.

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out.

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own.

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years

Text

Tues 15 June ‘21

Venice MP filming is underway, romantic canalside walks and gondola ride are a GO, as seen in pap pics and many (many) videos from fans gathered on site! I’m sure they appreciated all the little sheer polo showing off Harry’s tits, who doesn’t love a good hiddies moment huh? GQ probably did too; they already wrote a whole article about the outfit Harry wore yesterday! But even they can’t say anything better about those shorts than that they look “presentable” LMAO. TAKE THAT corduroy shorts! What about those fans though? Well, they are certainly bringing us plenty of videos- Harry handing co-star David up out of a boat like a sweet gentleman, aww, Harry skipping about between shots, Harry with a lil purse, Harry just trying to live his life and like go eat food when not working, etc etc... maybe folks could take a few steps back? Looks like Harry is really getting hounded through the tiny Venetian streets and on set, by pretty large crowds, to the extent of disrupting filming, oh no. Harry signed a picture for a nearby school-- “stay outrageous”, again dating it (June ‘21) but possibly by the end of the day he was wishing people would not be quite so outrageous.

Meanwhile the antis stuck at home are frothing at the mouth trying to convince larries (or maybe themselves?) that we now ship David and Harry- uh sorry sweaty but having the ability to understand that holding hands for cameras does not have to mean that people are really fucking is actually a pretty major core component of the whole larrie thing?! But good luck with that! It makes sense that seeing Harry acting lovey dovey with someone that they know he isn’t actually sleeping with would throw them in a tizzy though, after all their whole identity is based on denying that’s a thing that’s possible... poor things, baby’s first cognitive dissonance! It can really make you question things huh, and that’s always rough.

But they’re not the only ones with things to say about Harry! Superstar of stage and screen Mandy Patinkin posted video of himself and his wife getting four minutes’ worth of lightning round pop culture trivia questions wrong, but he nails one of em- asked what a Harry song (WS) is about, he remains silent. Well done, that’s just what Harry would have said! And Selma Hayek told a story about Harry coming to her house where her pet owl (who Harry was enthralled with and wanted to hang out with him) regurgitated an owl pellet in his hair! LOL poor Harry; naturally she said he handled it very well and was very sweet. Yes, it’s possible Harry’s interactions with her were because she’s in Marvel’s Eternals; it’s also possible he was at her house because her husband is the head of the company that owns Gucci, or for some other reason entirely.

Liam’s Lonely Bug NFTs went on sale today!! Liam was excited and happy and all over the internet posting and chatting and watching it all happen. The auctions are still open for most of them so final news on that tomorrow! Today was just Liam being hype about it- “Fandom is working its magic thank you!” he said when his request to get LB trending got it up there worldwide in like half an hour, he said more interactive content will be added to the NFTs as time goes on, that Louis cooking was “very funny”, when asked to describe his NFT collection in one word he chose “liberating,” and his hair guy reposted comments Liam has been making in the discord talking about maybe going blond with a “hmmm”. Oooh? He did a long live talking about everything, patching in the other Lonely Bug creators and quite a few other NFT people (enough that at one point Liam jokes that there are enough of them to dress up as the band to satisfy commenters asking for 1D stuff). Anyway one of them compares this NFT to ‘the original Nirvana recordings’ hmmm I mean… that is another thing that is rare I guess yes, but that’s very specific and random sir? “I know for some of you this NFT world is slightly different than what you’re used to from me,” said Liam, “but your support so far has been amazing (as always!)”

And not only that- another new Liam song coming?! We haven’t even got the one yet! (or maybe this is the same one..?) Anyway, school pal S-X (Liam hyped his music a couple weeks ago) talked about him in an interview, saying "Liam is a good friend of mine and we've got stuff coming soon. I don't want to say too much as you know how those One Direction fans get [HEYYYY… oh wait yeah he’s totally right]- when I mention him I can't even open my Twitter. But we've got a song coming and it's a smash. It's sooner than you think and that's all I can say." OH RILLY?? INTERESTING! I was just eyeing him for the artist showcase Liam said he was gonna do on veeps but OKAY! He also said "We're both from Wolverhampton and I was in college with him at the same time, and going from that to global stardom at 17 is not normal for any person. To have toured the world, done stadium tours and everything, he is one of the most famous people in the world. So he will go through scrutiny from the media and whatever, but I can tell you he is one of the nicest people, one of the most genuine people I've ever met. He's a real good friend of mine."

And speaking of unexpected songs; another Zayn demo leak was posted! This time he’s singing You with Ellie Goulding; the song ended up being released by Troye Sivan.

And Anne Marie posted “rehearsals for #OURSONG live! I just love this song so much. I also miss your face @niallhoran” with a picture of them singing away; apparently she’s referring to the recording of the acoustic version which is out on Friday. Niall posted a picture of the Danish football player who collapsed during play the other day giving a thumbs up from the hospital; indeed it is very good to see that he’s all right.

#harry styles #liam payne #zayn #niall horan #my policeman filming #my policeman spoilers #leaving aside the thing antis can't seem to grasp which is that we don't ship harry and louis at all #shipping and thinking people are queer are literally NOT THE SAME THING #but I neither think harry and david are fucking nor ship them so that's that on that #15 jun 21

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alinastracker · 3 years

Note

for the prompt thing: 62 or 69 <3

you got it bb <3

prompt: I wanted to tell you that I liked you before prom but chickened out and now we’re about to graduate college and I can’t hold it in any longer

i can’t fight this feeling any longer (and yet i’m still afraid to let it flow)

"Mal, I love you."

Alina frowns, shakes her head, and tries again.

"Mal, you've been my best friend for so long, and I love our friendship, but you see, I'm also head over heels in love with you."

She blows out a frustrated breath, her newly chopped bangs briefly floating off of her forehead. Telling her best friend of nearly six years she’s in love with him should not be the number one thing on her mind right now. It’s graduation day, for Saints sake. A day she hadn’t been sure she would ever see. But all she can think about is Mal.

She had met him on one of the worst days of her life. Alina had been transferred to a new foster home in the middle of her junior year of high school. There were few things worse in adolescent life than moving to a new school in the middle of the year — especially in high school, in a small town where everyone seemed to know each other.

Alina had walked the halls that day clutching onto the straps of her backpack, late to nearly every class because her sense of direction was shit, and had even gone as far as to eat lunch in the bathroom like a stereotypical teen movie, the thought of walking into the cafeteria with all those eyes on her nearly ruining her appetite entirely. She had been stared at enough as it was.

Her last class of the day was art, and she was praying for it to be the reprieve she so desperately needed. If only she could fucking find it. The warning bell rang, heightening her already raised anxiety. Alina took a corner too fast and slammed right into a wall. No, not a wall — a boy.

“I’m so sorry!” she blurted, scrambling to her knees to help pick up the papers she made him drop.

“All good,” the boy reassured her.

Once the two of them had the papers off the floor, Alina looked up and nearly dropped them again. She was looking into the warm brown eyes of possibly the hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on. He had a strong, defined jaw, grown out hair that wasn’t too shaggy, but still long enough to run her fingers through. And Saints, his lips. She was already imagining what those lips would feel like, subconsciously licking her own.

One side of the boy’s mouth quirked up, just a hint of a smirk, like he was used to having this effect on people. Shit, had he noticed her staring? Say something, Alina.

“Um, sorry,” she managed finally, handing him the pile of collected papers.

He chuckled. “You said that already.”

She tried a laugh of her own, but it came out all wrong, choppy and nervous. “Right.”

The boy stood to his full height, and for fucks sake, he had to be tall, too? She rose from her knees and he still towered over her. It was extremely attractive.

“So you’re the new girl,” he said, not a question but a statement. “I’ve heard murmurings about you today.”

“Murmurings?”

“Nothing bad. It’s just a small town. When someone new shows up, people notice.” He smiled, stuck out his hand. It took everything in her not to think about how long his fingers were. “I’m Mal.”

She took his hand, her own so tiny in comparison. “Alina.”

“Nice to meet you, Alina. Where are you headed?”

“220B? History of Traditional Art.”

Mal nodded. “Well, I can’t say that’s a room I’m super familiar with. I’m a shit artist. These hands are much better for other activities.” Her eyes must have widened, revealing just how filthy her mind was, because he quickly added, “Sports! I meant sports!”

A look passed between them, and then they were both laughing. It felt so good to laugh after the day she’d had.

“Anyway,” Mal continued, “I can help you find your way. I might not visit the art hall often, but I know my way around.”

Alina shot him another pointed look, and Mal groaned. “My way around the school! Saints, I’m really shooting myself in the foot as far as first impressions go, aren’t I?”

She grinned, but only said, “You’ll be late for class.” The final bell was going to ring any second.

Mal waved her off. “That’s all right. What poor representation of Stag Spirit would I be if I let the new girl walk around like a lost puppy? And besides,” he shot her a grin to match her own, “we can’t have you running around, terrorizing other kids and their poor papers now, can we?”

Alina let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I said I was sorry!”

He turned, walking backwards toward the stairs. “Did you? Must have missed it.”

She shot daggers in his direction, but she smiled the whole way to the art room. The next day, she dared to actually step into the cafeteria for lunch. People were still staring, but after yesterday, she expected it. Part of her was hoping she would find Mal in the crowded space, but she doubted it would matter even if she did. After some social media stalking last night, Alina had discovered what she should have known from the start — Mal was popular. He would already have a flock around him, friends he had known since childhood, who were just like him — attractive, athletic, alien to a kid like Alina who preferred quiet cafes and sketchpads to football fields and pompoms. He had been nice to her yesterday, sure, but that didn’t mean—

“Alina!”

Her head popped up, scanning the sea of tables until she saw him, standing and waving her over. Sure enough, Mal was at a table filled with pretty, sociable looking people. But there was a space open next to him, and she realized with a little jump of her heart that he had saved that space for her.

It was the start of the fastest and fiercest friendship she would ever have. Mal was popular and sporty, yes, but he was also kind, funny, smart — and most surprising, had grown up in the foster care system, too. Alina made friends with his friends, a few of her own from her art class, but none of them matched what she grew with Mal. Suddenly she was a football field kind of girl, dressing from head to toe in school colors for each match, cheering for her best friend so loud she gave the cheer squad a run for their money. Over the next year and half, they were entirely attached at the hip.

And while it had truly started as a friendship, by the time senior prom came around, Alina had to face the fact: she was head over heels for the boy. Hell, she had noticed how attractive he was from that first fateful meeting. Mix that with how genuinely good she knew he was — how caring, how attentive, how it felt to have his head rest on her shoulder as he fell asleep during a movie; who could blame her for falling for him?

“You have to tell him!” her friend from art class, Yelena, had insisted.

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “I’ll do it at prom.”

They were going as a group — her, Mal, Mikhael, Dubrov, Yelena, and a few others from their meshed circle of friends, brought together by the two of them. But Mal had still matched his tie to her dress, a stunning royal blue. Mal had still bought her a corsage — a delicate thing of mostly blue irises, her favorite flower. He was not her date, yet in every way except in name, it felt like he was, and Alina basked in the feeling.

But as song after song played, Alina found herself backing out each time she tried to approach him. Yelena was shooting pointed looks at her all night, murmuring as she passed her, “You’re running out of time.”

Then a punky pop song came on, one of her and Mal’s favorites. She called him over. “Dance with me!” she exclaimed, and laughed as he all but pulled her onto the dance floor. Neither of them were good dancers, but they were enthusiastic, at least with each other. As the song neared its end, Alina sucked in a breath.

“Mal, I have to tell you something.”

He raised a brow, waiting for her to speak. The song ended, and their principal took to the stage. “All right folks, it’s time to announce your prom king and queen!”

Everyone was cheering and turning to the stage, but Mal was still looking at her, still waiting for her answer.

Alina opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, “Thank you for the corsage. I really love it.”

Mal gave her a quizzical look, lips tugging down — and was that disappointment in his eyes? Before she could fully read him, his face smoothed, his usual charmed smile returning. “Of course, Lina.”

“And your prom king is,” the principal was saying, “Malyen Oretsev!”

The crowd roared. Mal’s smile turned sheepish, and he took to the stage to accept his crown. Ruby was named prom queen, to no one’s surprise. Alina watched them dance together in the middle of the room to a romantic song that would now forever be ruined for her. A little later that night, Mal came up to her, said, “You can get a ride home with Yelena, right?” He motioned behind him, flushing a little even as he grinned, to where Ruby was waiting. “I’m gonna head out.”

Alina swallowed the stupid lump in her throat and nodded. Mal pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and then he was gone. She would spend the night at Yelena’s, crying on her shoulder that she had missed her chance — if she’d ever had one to begin with. Because of course Mal would choose Ruby. Beautiful, blond Ruby, much more his equal than Alina could ever be.

Graduation came, and it was happy. But in all of the pictures and celebrations was Ruby — no longer just captain of the cheer squad Ruby, but Mal’s girlfriend Ruby. She watched them partake in a summer romance that she was guiltily happy to see fizzle out once college came and split them apart. Luckily, her and Mal were off to Os Alta University together, home of the Firebirds. They forged a new friend group there: the twins, Tolya and Tamar, Nadia, David, Genya, Zoya, Nikolai. Mal didn’t really date freshman year, sticking to little flings that Alina told herself didn’t matter. In sophomore year, the tension between him and Zoya finally snapped, and the two of them had a brief . . . something together.

Of course, Alina had her own dabbles in romance — Alexei being the sweetest, Aleksander nearly making her swear off men all together. Her next two flings were with women, both because she had finally fully accepted her bisexuality and because she truly had lost trust in the male species. She even made out with Nikolai a couple times, but they had both just been using each other. They’d spent one night in a club so obnoxiously all over one another that Zoya had stormed out. Her thing with Mal had been off and on at that point, and the next morning, she texted him that they were off for good.

Two weeks later, Nikolai and Zoya were dating. Mal was single.

And still, she hadn’t made a move.

Alina stares in the mirror now, watching the tassel on her graduation cap sway back and forth. In an hour, she’ll be moving it from the right to the left and leave Os Alta University in the rear window. It hadn’t been easy getting here — nothing is easy for a foster care kid, especially one who wants to be an artist. But she’s done it. She’s graduating with top honors. Saints, she even has a job lined up. Everything she worried about growing up — making a future for herself, being swallowed by the system, figuring out who she is without the guidance of her birth parents — she has faced all of it head on. At every step, she’s run after what she’s wanted and grabbed it by the hands until it was hers.

Everything except Mal.

And try as she might, she can’t imagine a future without him in it.

He’s not seeing anyone — for now. Last night he texted her, laughing about how Ruby of all people had hit him up. She’s going to be in the city this weekend, apparently, and asked if he wanted to get a drink. It felt like prom all over again.

“Alina, come on!” Genya calls. “We’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” she calls back.

Alina follows Genya and Zoya down to the car, sits numbly in the backseat as they drive to the giant building holding their graduation ceremony.

“Look alive, Starkov,” Zoya says as they get out of the car, linking their arms. “Today is for happy things. New beginnings.”

Genya takes her other arm. “No pouting about boys unless you’re going to do something about it.”

She smiles, and for a little while, it’s not forced. There’s a rush of excitement as they walk inside and find their seats. Genya isn’t too far off from her, but Zoya’s a few rows ahead. In the rows between them, still too far to talk to but not too far to make out the back of his head, is Mal. He’s talking to the guy next to him, even though she’s pretty sure he doesn’t know him. But that’s Mal, blooming wherever he’s planted.

Alina knows she shouldn’t, but the ceremony hasn’t started yet, so she stands and calls out, “Mal!”

Somehow, he hears her over all the ruckus around them. The smile he gives her has her heart beating double time. “I’ll find you after!” he shouts back, though of course, she already knew that. Mal always finds her.

As the ceremony starts and a handful of different people come up to make speeches, she finds herself slipping into her thoughts from earlier. In her head, she sees Mal and Ruby, meeting for that drink. They pick up right where they left off. Ruby moves to the city, moves in with Mal. Alina’s there through all of it, supporting Mal like she always has, always will. On the sidelines she stays, watching him as he gets married and has ridiculously beautiful babies. None of it is real, not yet, but the thought is so painful she has tears in her eyes.

Well, at least she can blame the tears on emotional graduation bullshit as she watches her friends walk the stage, cheering for each of them even though they’re not supposed to. Tamar and Tolya, the latter looking pretty emotional himself. David, who walks quickly even though he’s probably the most awarded student of the whole graduating class. Nikolai, who dramatically presses a kiss to the hand of the Os Alta University President after she hands him his diploma. Zoya, who walks the stage as if she owns it.

Then Mal’s name is called, and she cheers so loud she’s pretty sure he hears it, if the grin on his face is any indication. Genya crosses, graceful as always. When her own name is called, she’s not expecting much. She has no family here save from the one she forged for herself. But as she walks, she can hear a very distinct cheer from a very distinct voice, and butterflies swarm drunkenly in her stomach.

In the minutes that pass between her walking the stage and the last name being called — poor Nadia —Alina knows what she’s going to do. No backing out this time.

“Congratulations, Class of 2021!”

Everyone cheers, and graduation caps go flying through the air. Alina tosses hers with everyone else, and then she takes off, pushing through her classmates as they jump and shout, running until she finds the right row, forces herself through the bodies in her way, until she’s in front of him. Until she’s found Mal.

“Alina,” he says in surprise. “What are you—”

“Don’t get a drink with Ruby.”

Mal frowns. “What?”

“I said don’t get a drink with Ruby!” she says, louder this time.

“I heard you. I’m just confused.” He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Why shouldn’t I have a drink with Ruby, and why did you run to tell me this right now?”

Because I’ve been in love with you from the first moment I saw you.

Because I wanted to tell you at prom, but I chickened out.

Because I’ve watched you kiss other girls for almost six years now, and I can’t stand to just watch any longer.

Alina doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she presses onto her tip toes, takes his face between her hands, and kisses him.

Mal stiffens, but doesn’t give her time to worry before he relaxes again, pulling her body against his, lifting her so she doesn’t have to stretch so far anymore. All around them are the happy cheers of a group of people at the end of one road stepping onto another. Families in the stands hoot and holler for their children, wipe tears and think, they made it.

But for Alina, it’s like being in a room where nothing exists except her and Mal, her best friend, her constant, the most important person in her life. She’s kissing him, she’s finally kissing him, and he’s kissing her back as if he’s been waiting for six years to do this, too. Like maybe he’s wanted her all along.

“Alina,” he breathes when their lips part, their foreheads pressed together instead. “Thank the bloody Saints.”

She giggles, actually fucking giggles, like a lovestruck school girl. “I’ve wanted this since prom. Before, even.”

Mal smiles, shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Me too.”

They laugh, so close that they’re breathing each other in. Two idiots, that’s what they are. But there’s no room to groan about what could’ve been sooner, no room to drown in regrets. They are young, and there is only room for joy in knowing they have the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. Starting now. Their lips meet again. Mal is steady and warm against her. He feels like home. It’s everything she’s ever imagined. It’s better.

Alina can see her future so clearly now, because she knows no matter what comes next, she’ll have Mal beside her to navigate through it.

He is all she’s ever wanted — her forever person, who won’t leave when she’s being unreasonable, who’s love is not conditional. He is all she’ll ever need.

#malina fanfic #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #mine #this didn't quite turn out how i expected but then again when does anything i write lmao #just some nice sweet malina feat idiots not realizing they love each other and lots of fun pining!#I HOPE U ENJOY ANA MY LOVE #it's 2am why do i keep writing at this hour sksksk #also don't entirely know how i feel about this but it issss what it isssss #maybe one day my writing style will be everything i want it to be

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batmanie · 3 years

Text

Worth it - Batman TAS

Out of the few books available at the Arkham rec room’s otherwise empty bookshelf Professor Crane had chosen to read “Pride and Prejudice” today. He had read it about ten times already but the small book collection was not getting any bigger and it was still better than reading the Bible.

“Alice’s adventures in Wonderland” had been banned from Arkham’s library quite some time ago for triggering a certain inmate, and “Christmas Carol” had lately been decorated with obscene doodles by the Joker which Jonathan did not wish to see ever again. The nursery rhymes book was always an option but currently, Harley had her fun with that, giggling each time she read a funny one.

Crane was sitting on the couch with his nose in the book, not bothering anyone with his presence. Next to him, Tetch was staring at the TV. The poor man looked so bored, mindlessly channel surfing, probably too high on medication to be able to entertain himself with any Wonderland plots.

With Joker not around, the rec room seemed calm, almost as calm as the sky before a heavy storm. And said storm came unexpectedly in the form of Jervis Tetch.

The bored man on the couch had switched to the Gotham’s evening news channel, listening in to the street interview with one of the new candidates for the city council, and then, out of nowhere, he threw a massive tantrum – his outburst included flipping the coffee-table and accidentally hitting Harley’s head with it. That, of course, resulted in Doctor Quinzel’s aggressive response. Not much remained left from the unfortunate table after Harley had finished with it.

Professor Crane watched in delight how Mad Hatter fought against a guard twice as big as himself, while Harley attempted to smash both of their heads with a table leg before two other guards managed to tranquilize her.

After a few more minutes, the rec room was calm again and Jonathan got back to his book. But as much as he tried to ignore the incident and focus on the plot, a little voice in his head, the voice of the psychologist who he’d never truly ceased to be, kept whispering a very important question. “What exactly has just happened here?” The voice asked, teasing Jon’s professional curiosity. He cast another glance at the tv. The candidate from the evening news smiled at the camera, still explaining how much he was helping the community.

Professor Crane had his suspicions. And who would have guessed? Mad Hatter broke out of Arkham no longer than three days after that event.

David Colton was in his mid-thirties and he was a man in his prime, looking exceptionally professional today in his expensive dark-blue suit, white shirt, and striped blue tie.

“Smoother than Bruce Wayne,” he thought with a pleasant smile, checking himself in the mirror.

Oh, yeah, he still got it! Still looking as youthful and handsome as the prom king he had been back in his high-school days.

“Almost ready Mr. Colton,” the make-up lady told him, and put some more powder onto his already fluid-heavy forehead. “No glossy faces on TV, that’s my rule. Those spotlights know no mercy,” she joked.

David chuckled. “The only thing that is allowed to shine tonight, is my charisma.”

They would have laughed some more, if not for a sudden knocking on the door to his private dressing room.

“Come in,” David called and took a deep, calming breath mentally preparing himself for showtime.

He was ready to present his best self to Gotham again, and at this rate of him constantly being invited to interviews, the seat in the council was practically his already.

His father was right, the ability to make a good impression and a thing for charity was everything that mattered in this town after all.

The door opened and a short man in a trench coat walked in, not a staff member judging simply by the lack of an ID. Yet, the man seemed familiar – Colton just couldn’t quite place him.

“Can I help you, pal?” He asked the newcomer, hiding his irritation behind a polite smile.

The man smiled brightly and took a few steps into the room. “Oh, yes, yes. I think you can,” he spoke with a quiet yet excited voice.

Colton caught his fake British accent right away – and again, it felt like he had heard it before.

“However, I wouldn’t call you my pal.” The man continued grinning. “Would I? Won’t I? Would I? Won’t I?”.

“Listen, pal,” Colton cut him off, not bothering anymore to be that polite. “My interview is starting in a few minutes. Can we get back to this conversation later?”

“I’m afraid that later will be too late,” the strange man shook his head and took out a silver pocket-watch. “It will take only a moment…”

David sighed, the intruder was really hard to get rid of – he hated those nosy people who worked for the press.

“Very well then.” He stood up from his seat and turned to his guest to shake his hand and introduce himself properly. “David Colton,” he offered his hand to the shorter man.

The man didn’t take it, which led to a very awkward moment.

“Oh, but we know each other,” he explained, staring at David with an intense glare.

Colton, confused as he was, took a closer look at the stranger – his blonde, messy hair, big nose, and even bigger front teeth. Suddenly it clicked. “Gotham High! Jervis, was it? Jervis the Jerkface,” he laughed at the old memories of those past, glorious days of his youth. “How have you been, Jerv?”.

“Surely not as good as you.” There was a hint of fake sadness in Jervis’ voice as he put on the black, old-school top hat that he had held in his hand behind his back the entire time.

That single move made Colton recall some very disturbing stories straight from Gotham’s underworld. He cast a worried look at the make-up lady – she looked terrified and about to scream.

Slowly, he gazed back at the small man before him – the man who used to be just a nerdy kid from his high school, a weird boy that everybody had laughed at – Jervis the Jerkface, Beaver-man, Ratter.

“They don’t call me names that often anymore,” Jervis said calmly, as if he had just read his mind, a nasty grin creeping back on his face. He held a card in his gloved hand. “They simply call me the Mad Hatter.”

-#-

Like every other Saturday, the rec room was hosting the four lucky high-profile inmates who had earned their right to be in here, thanks to their good behavior. This time it was Doctor Isley, surprisingly enough, Nygma and, even more surprisingly, Croc who accompanied Professor Crane during his well-deserved book-time.

Everyone was minding their own business, Ivy was occupied taking care of a small flowerpot of violets, Edward played chess with himself and Croc, well, Croc was currently using his claw as a toothpick to get rid of the remains of his dinner.

Jonathan relaxed on the couch that he had the luxury of having only for himself for once. He had tried to bury himself in a book but couldn’t concentrate on reading – something was on his mind ever since Mad Hatter had disappeared half a week ago. It was this tiny, little voice again, telling him to put the book aside and turn on the TV instead.

Slightly irritated by his own decision, he did as his intuition had told him to. The evening news was about to end and an interview with some philanthropist politician was about to start right after commercials.

When the show began, the fat, jovial host greeted his enthusiastic audience, gaining some applause in return, then he introduced the main guest of the evening, David Colton – Jonathan recognized the guy – it was the same politician who had been talking about the importance of charity just a week ago on the news.

Colton looked a bit stiff, smiling unnaturally wide. As the applause died out and the first question was asked, he didn’t move for a good few seconds, as if he didn’t even hear it. Jonathan couldn’t shake off the impression that the man was either on some medications or very, very stressed.

“David?” The host tried again as the uncomfortable silence dragged for too long. “Will you tell us about your foundation? We are all dying to know more.”

“No, Sam,” said Colton with a strangled voice, his face still kind of strange – more like a mask with a very fake smile and a dead look in his eyes. “First, I want to talk about my teenage years.”

“OK, let’s hear your story,” the host agreed, happily, probably determined to get anything at all from his non-cooperative guest. “I’ve heard you were an overachiever. A football player, a class president and even a prom king. Isn’t that right, David?”

“No. I was a selfish bastard who tormented less popular kids. I called them unfair names, put them in a locker, and made other boys beat them up just for a sake of it.”

The audience gasped at this confession. The host’s jaw dropped for a good five seconds.

Jonathan smiled to himself, satisfied that his intuition had not failed him.

“I was a popular kid so I never took the blame for my misbehavior,” Colton continued with a very calm and steady voice, his face showing no emotion. When the camera took a closeup on him, Jonathan noticed a tiny little detail – a 10/6 card sticking out of his boutonnière.

“I never cared for others' wellbeing either, this charity-thing is just for show. I only care for the fame and attention. In fact, you may say I’m not even a human being. I’m an ugly, stinking, lying chimpanzee.”

As soon as Colton finished his last line, an inhuman howl escaped his mouth. The audience screamed in terror. Colton suddenly jumped onto a couch he previously sat on, and he started to act like a real monkey.

Sam – the host – went utterly speechless, he jumped up from his own seat and just stood there, stunned.

Colton, screeching and howling like a mad chimpanzee, grabbed a glass of water from the tabletop and threw it at the host.

“Help, somebody help!” the poor host started screaming.

Meanwhile, Colton was jumping up and down on a couch, making “Ooh, aah!” sounds.

Before the security managed to catch him, Colton already had taken off his pants and his white, hairy ass was revealed for all of Gotham to see.

After that, the show was hurriedly cut off and the weather forecast started.

Professor Crane didn’t even notice that all the other rogues had joined him on the couch, and were now staring at the TV like a bunch of little kids watching their favorite cartoon.

“Well, that was definitely one way to destroy someone’s political career,” Nygma commented with a hint of amusement.

“A few more minutes and he would have started throwing his own poo,” Ivy added with a disgusted frown.

“Poo,” Crock giggled like a five-year-old and everyone else had to roll their eyes. “I like monkeys, monkeys are so stupid.”

“Well, actually, chimpanzees are…”

“Oh, shut up, Nygma!” Both Ivy and Crane growled as one and Edward went quiet.

“Anyway, Tetch should be back with us any minute now,” Pamela concluded with all certainty. “I hope his little revenge was worth a punch in the teeth from the Bat and getting dragged back to Arkham.”

Professor Crane didn’t say a word but he knew from an experience that yes, it was totally worth it.

#Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Batman TAS #batman fanfiction #Jervis Tetch #the mad hatter #madhatter #bullying #revange #fanfiction #My Story #Bat-mania #temarcia #Batman animated series

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

Did someone say Zoya and Genya getting ready for a ball? I had this sitting in my computer for a while. I've written it at the same time of the Nikolai/Genya interaction and went for that instead, leaving this unfinished, so that's the reason why they're similar. But even if this is not wildly original I decided to post it, maybe some of you will enjoy it anyway!

together now - AO3

word count: 2661 (cause I can’t write short fics sorry)

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“Zoya, if you move again, I’m going to turn your hair purple.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. Drama queen. Whoever believed that getting ready for a party with your friends was fun, clearly never had to deal with Genya’s perfectionist and dictatorial tendencies. She purposely shifted in her chair in front of the vanity, making Genya glare at her.

“Do you want me to complete my masterpiece or not?”

No, not really. Nothing about going to Sainkt Nikolai’s ball seemed to be exciting. Dreadful and annoying were the only two terms she could come up with to describe the evening in front of her. Mainly having to do to the fact that she was going to have to watch Nikolai and his future wife simper over courtiers and nobles, with the bride-to-be practically coerced to attend the ball. And she wasn’t even allowed to get drunk; saints forbid someone attempted to murder the king again.

“Do you want your hair up or down?” Asked Genya, moving some strands of her hair over her ears.

“Are you really inquiring for my opinion?” The squaller noted ironically, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“No, of course not. Down is better, they make you seem wilder.”

She winked at her and Zoya huffed again. Genya began braiding some thin locks away from her face, leaving the rest of her mane free on her shoulders. She weaved the fine tresses with silver threads and held them in place with diamonds pins. Zoya relaxed under her delicate touch.

“A bit more practice with breaking Grisha’s orders and I’m going to tailor myself at some point. What are you going to do when the day comes?”

She had meant it as a joke, the tone light. But through the mirror she saw a shadow pass behind Genya’s eyes and immediately regretted her words and lack of tact. They knew only one person who had held as much power as Zoya was wielding now; he was rotting in a cell beneath them, and Genya would forever wear his marks on her skin. Of course her mind would have run to him; she tended to darken whenever they touched the argument surrounding Zoya’s newly acquired abilities.

“I hadn’t meant to make you think about that, Genya. I’m sorry.”

Genya smiled at her, coming back to her delightful self.

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit worried about - well, about everything. How is it going with these powers? I’ve spied on you summoning fire the other day. You were glorious.”

Zoya curled her lips and held up her arm, making the fetter made of dragon scales dangle. Juris rumbled inside her. She had told Genya what happened in the Fold, in broad outline. Zoya knew that even if they didn’t say it, they were all concerned with this. She caught them glancing at her sometimes, as if they were waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. It was unpleasant, but she understood them; after all, she was waiting for herself to go off too.

“I’m managing. I’m still not so sure of what I can or cannot do.”

Genya kept working on her hairstyle thoughtfully, letting the quiet stretch between them. She bit her lower lip before adding something else, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Does it feel good?”

Zoya understood that question too. Power is protection. No matter the cost, it would always hold its appeal for a Grisha. That was the pull they felt towards the Darkling too.

“It feels risky.” She answered after a while, releasing a long breath. It was not like her to betray uncertainty or weakness, but she hadn’t anticipated how both frightening and fascinating it would feel to be in this position. “It’s so much power, Genya. What if I can’t control it?”

“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you, Zoya.” There was not hesitation in this answer. Yet, Zoya didn’t feel much reassured. She didn’t have a sense of who – or what – she was becoming.

“What if it’s too much power?” She realized that was not the right question, the one thing she dreaded to come true. She corrected herself. “What if it’s not enough, and I want more?”

At this, Genya paused, avoiding Zoya’s gaze, and fell terribly silent. She looked worried, almost scared. A shiver went through Zoya’s spine at the idea of eliciting something like fear in one of the people she loved most. She felt a stabbing guilt and the sudden realization that she didn’t want to explore this topic more and find out what Genya was thinking. She waved a soothing smile at her friend, hoping to stir this exchange away.

“Enough of this. Don’t you want to show me the dress?”

Genya’s eye lightened up as she was pulled out from her gloom towards a more delightful diversion. She turned to the bed and pulled up Zoya’s gown, handing it to her. As usual, Genya had outdid herself. The gown matched the decor in her hair: Zoya thought of the dark midnight sky over Pachina while looking at it, one of the few memories she held from her childhood. When Genya moved it towards her, a million tiny crystals sparkled like stars against the sheer fabric. Zoya slipped inside it gracefully and turned to her, making the dress shimmer; the red head was gloating.

“I always give you the best dresses. All eyes are going to be stuck on you.”

Zoya doubted it, considering how equally gorgeous the other girl was looking right now, hugged by velvet the colour of blood. Genya made her wirl around on herself while she smoothed the dress; Zoya tried to reach for the wine, but Genya snatched the glass from her hands. She shrugged her shoulders at her outraged look. “What? I’m not going to let you stain this magnificent gown, excuse me.”

“You know, you have David’s adoration all for yourself.” Zoya pointed out, scowling. “Don’t get greedy. Let them admire me instead. If I can’t get drunk, I can at least have a different kind of fun.”

Genya rolled her single eye turning her gaze to Zoya, furrowing a brow at her.

“I do hope that by now you know that you have someone’s adoration all for yourself, too.”

Genya had clearly noticed the subtle shifts in Zoya and Nikolai’s behaviour, since she had been dropping this casual and mildly vague comments for a while now. At first, Zoya just ignored them; but then it occurred to her that denying what was going on was not the way to fight this. That maybe the right angle was to approach it much like a military campaign: know your enemy before you defy it. Which for her, it meant to understand what was happening so that she could crush it. And since feelings were not an area of expertise for Zoya, she had figured Genya could come in handy. So at some point she had just let it become a mutual understanding that this whatever-it-was-thing was out in the open, and she started posing carefully pondered question of her own. Zoya crossed Genya’s eye for an instant, replying with a sceptical click of her tongue.

“Both his adoration and his efforts better be for Ehri, for all our sakes. Much like his gaze better be kept on her all night like she’s the most beautiful creature to ever grace this earth. If he cannot sell it to her, at least he has to sell it for the rest of the world.”

“With you in that dress it’s going to be a challenge to look at anyone else.” Teased Genya, grinning. Zoya glared at her, pushing down the uncomfortable satisfaction this remark brought.

“He seems rather immune to my appearance and my presence.”

A poor and unconvincing objection, to say the least. Genya scoffed, handing her the wine as if she was going to need it to hear what came next. Zoya gladly took the offering.

“You do realize I’m a Corporalki, right?”

“What would that mean, apart from making people faint every now and then?”

“It means he can keep his eyes trained on the ceiling all night for all I care, because I’ll still feel his heartbeat spike up every time you pass beside him.”

Zoya didn’t much like to have this particular piece of information, that stirred some unpleasant feelings in her lungs. She swallowed the rest of the alcohol, her throat burning for something else entirely.

“Do you peer in all your friend’s visceral reaction for fun?”

“Just the two of you. Want to know what happens with you?” Mused Genya, knowing damn well the curiosity that sparkled in Zoya’s eyes and even more well feeling her breath itch. Know your enemy, right? Zoya grunted, not even bothering to try and look unfazed.

“Fine. Rip the band aid off.”

“Your heart usually beats like it’s at war. On the contrary, it slows down when he’s around, like you feel- I don’t know, safer. At home.”

Zoya fell silent, turning the words over in her head. It was always a punch in the gut when she wondered when things have started to turn and understood just how much they had turned. Instead of lingering on this painful realization, she did what she knew best and deflected the conversation again where it hurt most. She had the strange belief that if the heart was indeed a muscle, you had to train it like any other one in your body. The more pressure and blows you would put into it, the less you would feel the pain with time. Yuyeh sesh. Be cruel to your heart.

“How are the preparation for the wedding going?”

“As good as they can be.” Genya’s gaze turned sweet and affectionate, and she went along. “No one would say anything, you know. If you wanted to stay away for a while or get some distance.”

“We both know that a lot of people would say a lot of things.” Zoya held her chin high. “And you know that’s not my way of doing things. This is my place; I’m not going to let anyone take it away.”

I don’t want to live in darkness. She fought and lost and suffered to get to where she was. She was certainly not going to give it up for a bad timed and poorly chosen crush. An idiotic and simple crush. Genya nodded, getting the hint that it was enough for today. She seemed to remember something and got back to her tailoring kit.

“Speaking of Nikolai, there’s one thing missing. He gave them to me before I came here.”

Genya walked towards her and clipped what looked like a pin on her dress. She made her turn around to look herself in the mirror. Zoya felt something warming her from the inside when she looked at it; it was more of a medal than a pin. Ravka’s double eagle was shining on her chest, pleated gold, with Alina’s sun behind it and an Etherealki blue ribbon. It resembled the medals she saw on the supposedly war heroes’ generals that worked with Nikolai, but it was more elegant. She brushed her finger on it, full of pride.

“Me and David have one too.” Genya showed her the other one she was holding before securing it on herself. It was Corporalki red. “David has a Materialki purple ribbon. Nikolai told me people should always know we are his most trusted generals and friends. That we work for Ravka as much as he does, and we are owed the same respect, even at a ball.”

Respect. Recognition. Another time, Nikolai managed to surprise her. Because this wasn’t just a pretty thing, a nice embellishment. And while she had been his general for almost three years, that didn’t mean people had accepted and treated her with the appropriate regard. This was a symbol of the king’s trust, something that would force the nobles and the army to behave accordingly, even at events where it would be so easy to down-play her and treat her like another beautiful hollow courtier. Stupid thoughtful Nikolai. She was torn between wanting to kill him for making her feel like this or kiss him senseless for the same reason. Get a grip, Zoya.

“You’re not going to be like him, Zoya.” Zoya startled at Genya words, confused for a moment. She cleared her throat, shoving the treacherous thoughts she was having away. Genya had moved beside her, taking her hand in her own. Looking at Genya firm and proud gaze, she realized they were not talking about Nikolai anymore, and that she hadn’t dropped the conversation before because she was scared or angry at her. It was because she understood where Zoya’s fears were coming from, and she was facing them head on now.

“The Darkling.” She added to clarify, lingering on his name with a tremor in her voice. “Even with all the power you have, you are nothing like him. You managed to do what he had always claimed he wanted, and he had never done: you are saving Grishas, you are rebuilding the Second Army and you hold a position as the King’s right hand. What drives you is not the hunger for power; is the care you have for Ravka and your people. The Darkling wanted to control them, to own them. You protect them.”

Zoya tightened the hold of her hand, while looking at their reflections in the mirror, in the stunning gowns and the triumvirate’s pins. Two women who had believed in the wrong man and kept paying the price for their ingenuity, who had saved themselves in the end. She sucked in a breath, seeing someone she barely recognized; there was almost nothing left of the scared little girl. With the medal on her chest, diamonds in her hair and a glowing fierce light in her eyes she really looked like the leader she aspired to be. She wondered if she was still pretending, or some of the act was now true.

“Stop me before I can become like him.” Zoya blurted out, the words unsteady and whispered. Genya shook her head, leaning in towards her.

“You are different in every way. And you have something he never had; you have people who love you. Believe me, Nikolai is going to burn down all of Os Alta before he lets anything happen to you. None of us is going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not afraid of something happening to me, rather than to others.” What if I hurt Nikolai? What if I hurt anyone of you? Genya lowered her head on her shoulder, still holding her hand.

“We fought our way out of his grip once. We’re not going to let him bring us down. We’re stronger than we were before.”

“And we’re together, now.”

Zoya needed something to anchor herself on; the words felt uncertain, more like a question. Because she knew, deep down she knew she was still somehow living by what he had taught her: love is a weakness. And she knew that while Genya talked of friendship, Zoya herself was distancing from everyone. That she was suffocating her feelings for Nikolai, effectively cutting out the person she had relied on the most. That she didn’t know how to be close to someone. That, like the Darkling, she felt destined to be alone. And yet a part of her still needed to believe that a strand of what she conquered was going to save her, that someone was going to reach for her.

“And we’re together.”

Genya repeated, more firmly. We’re not going to let him bring us down another time. A litany. It was our blood on the skiffs, in the sand, on the rocks of a mountain. I’m nothing like him. An enchantment. And we’re together. He had taught her wrong. One day she would be free of this last cage, too.

#genya and zoya have my heart #i don't know if you can tell but i love genya as much as zoya and nikolai #genya safin #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #mainly genya and zoya friendship #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #post kos #my writing #fan fiction #grishaverse

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spitpr1ncess · 3 years

Text

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 2 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

(not my image)

Picking out a beautiful soft white linen dress you hum to yourself, Jools pulled through with your day off but had gotten himself roped into some business so was no longer free, not a huge loss because although you love spending time with him, it’ll be lovely to have some time to yourself. You ponder what you will do, whether you’ll read a book, draw or maybe even write something, you just feel in your soul that you need a break.

Pulling the loose dress over your head you pick out some white ankle socks, never being one to dress for anybody else but yourself, comfort is key and feeling good is the main goal. You glare at the reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, you feel more connected this time, yet you’re still unsure about who is staring back. Her eyes are sunken, her knees wobbly and her collarbones protruding in a boyish way. You wave off any ugly, intruding thoughts and slip your feet into the one pair of black shoes you own, you decide you’ll browse the shops before you finally head down to the local park.

Reaching for your shoulder bag you throw a couple of notes in, followed by a little pocketknife you had stolen from your father as a young girl, you can’t be too careful outside, especially wearing the branding of a working girl, everybody knows and nobody respects you except for a select few. You head out, closing the door and turning the key in the lock, you wear it around your neck with an old scrap of garden string.

You pass by Jools seat, occupied with one of the other men Boss employs whilst he was out with whatever emergency he was roped into, you notice that you miss him when he’s not here, the other stranger wouldn’t wish you a good morning on your way out.

Your mind wanders as you make your way towards the large, wooden doors in the entrance and you find yourself reminiscing over how much you’ve moved around, and how this has been your favorite base so far.

You’ve moved around a fair bit over the years as Boss has accumulated more money and has had more to spend on you. You’re currently located in a lard mansion, it has a sizeable forty rooms on each floor, with four floors in total, that’s without including the large ballroom, kitchen and diner rooms and a large lounging area. There is a basement too, full of rooms you’re forbidden from entering and a beautiful surrounding estate, it’s a secure, gated property, of course, so you can only leave with permission, given by Jools, with Boss entrusting him to be responsible with his decision. You’re allowed to freely roam the surrounding land; Boss even keeps a few horses that you and a few of the other girls happily care for. Hacking them on those gorgeous summer days and taking long afternoons just enjoying each other’s company, as an escape from your sad little lives.

You will often spend the summer evenings sat on the grass, allowing the sun to beat down onto your pale skin, allowing you to feel something, head buried in a book, escaping reality and taking ever-so-important time to yourself. The feeling of freedom you get is fleeting, but even that is enough to temporarily satiate your hunger to run away.

You look back over your shoulder and shout out to the man at Jools desk, “I’m going out into town, I’ll be back no later than six, you needn’t worry, I already have permission, it’ll say on my appointments tab on Jools computer!” he grunts, and waves you off, completely disinterested. You think back to the last time you were late home, true, it was an accident, you’d fallen asleep in the meadow and nightfall had come, Boss had sent out a search party, assuming that you had made a break for it and you could tell he was relieved more than angry when you were frog marched into his office and disciplined for your silly mistake. You shudder, thinking about Boss’s thick fingers coming into contact with your tiny throat, you live to please him yes, but it doesn’t mean you have like him.

As a direct result of your falling asleep and having a search party sent out for you, you weren’t currently a favorite between Boss’s men, with all of them being suspicious of you, expecting you to make a break for it at any moment. You were sure they’d had your face ingrained into the backs of their eyelids incase they ever saw you acting “suspicious”. You can hardly blame them but you do with they would stand down, it was exhausting having to calculate your every move, to stay out of the limelight as much as you could.

The streets are dotted with people, all busy and completely engrossed in their own perfect little lives, what you’d give to be able to live like them. A wave of sadness drowns you as you notice mothers and daughters, couples in love and shop keepers attending their stalls in the bright morning light. Your feet subconsciously decide your route as you make your way down the stone high street, enjoying the smells and sounds, the birds singing loud songs was like a beautiful music concert made just for you. You allow yourself to be completely immersed and wonder if you could slip away and never be seen again, if you could have that freedom one day, if you could be one of those mothers with daughters.

You swing a small glass door open and hear chimes ring as you step into your favorite hole in the wall café,

“Olive!” a voice booms from behind the bar as Mr. Benzo swiftly approaches you and pulls you into a bear hug, “we’ve missed you! Where on Gods given earth have you been!?”, you lean into the giant man and allow him to envelope you into a protective embrace, inhaling deeply, and imagining this to be what it is like to have a present father figure.

“Careful with her David! Hug her any tighter and you’ll snap the poor girl in half!” Mr Benzos wife stands a few feet behind, her aged and ring clad hands grasping together at her heartspace, “you’re wasting away my child! They cannot be feeding you! Come, you shall eat”, she gestures gently to a window bench, you are ushered over and take your seat, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the love coming from your favorite shop owners.

Mrs Benzo rushes herself around, building you a hearty spread, she grabs slices of bread, fruits, vegetables and slices of pies, laying them down at your table she grins, “whatever you don’t eat is going home with you”, she sighs, “and you shan’t pay a single penny, you’ll be blown away with the wind one of these days, think of it as an act of service. I mean look at you! Your eyes are so hollow that I’m afraid they’ll disappear into the back of your skull young lady!”. She brushes her finger against your protruding collarbone, you shudder, anxious at the touch of another woman, and at how maternal it was. She senses this and apologizes.

The Benzos know of your situation, they guessed as much after getting a glance at your brandishing. Mr Benzo had taken it upon himself to explain to his wife the full meaning. She had simply been heartbroken, set on spending every one of your visits spoiling and pampering you.

“Mrs Benzo, I cannot eat all of this, I might throw up, my stomach would not hold it!” You place a hand over your stomach and jokingly pat it, she tilts her head and smiles, letting out a small sigh.

“I’ve told you to call me Shirley, child. Enough with the Mrs Benzo. You are a friend here, remember that.” She sits quietly opposite you, watching you eat. Normally it might unnerve you, but her presence calms you today, you allow her maternal stares to engulf you, soaking in her care, allowing her to protect you, Lord knows you need it. David had gone back to serving customers, it was picking up into lunch hour, you hear his warming laugh as he makes conversation with them.

“Thank you… Shirley, it means so much to me, the way you treat me as a human, and an equal. You don’t see me for my brandishing, you see me as me. It’s refreshing.” You feel your eyes begin to ache as though they will cry again. She takes your delicate hand in both of hers, the warmth feels like a hug all over, you can see she has the same familiar feeling in her eyes. For a moment, you are the same. You feel safe. You feel loved. You are loved.

It gets uncomfortable for you to handle all these emotions and you pull your hand back, it’s too much vulnerability, Mrs Benzo understands, she knows it will take time for you to heal from your childhood trauma, and she has the patience of a lion, always willing to wait for you, you smile and continue to eat.

You leave Benzos with an abundance of food supplies, you’ll surely have enough to share with all the girls and Jools. Not that he needs it, he has enough supplies to last him a lifetime, after all. Smelling the air and closing your eyes, you turn and walk back towards the shops, enjoying the serenity of the early afternoon. You’re drawn into one stand in particular, a small jewellery stand, you approach quietly and notice a gorgeous emerald ring, it’s like it calls to you, you dare to reach out and touch it.

“You couldn’t afford that with all your life’s savings, silly whore.” A cold, harsh voice sounds from behind you, you turn, furious at the unnecessary comment directed your way.

“You really shouldn’t speak to wome…” you start.

“Do you know who I am? I will have you disappear if you so much as try to continue that sentence.” the cold voice shoots back. The voice grabs your wrist and pulls you close. It hurts, but you are used to being manhandled. You find yourself a little excited. Finally, something different. You slowly take in the voice’s harsh exterior. Smart black shoes, tailored black trousers, crisp and obviously ironed. A tucket white shirt and expensive cuff links. You inhale, expensive cologne, hints of pine and mint, you meet his eyes, staring into your soul, he licks his lips before continuing.

“You’re the little shit that missed her curfew. What on earth are you doing out here? Running away again?” his glare doesn’t falter, in fact, you’re sure it intensifies, your nerves are starting to get the better of you and you note that if looks could kill, you would be driving away in the back of a hearse right now.

“Speak.” The command is clear enough, yet a lump in your throat makes it impossible. You drink in his facial features, sharp and chiselled, like a God. His short black hair with a harsh undercut. It’s styled immaculately, not a single strand out of place.

“Are you a mute, whore?” the man continues, the grip on your wrist tightens, you whimper and plead with your eyes.

“No. You’re hurting me. I’m sorry, I’m allowed out now, I am. I have permission.” It practically falls out of your mouth as a measly cry.

“Do you expect me to believe that? I have half a mind to drag you by your hair back to Boss for questioning. You truly are moronic.” You consider arguing more, but deem it useless, this angry man is obviously set in his ways.

“Fine. Take me back, but I promise you, I can be out here.” You huff and stick out your bottom lip. It doesn’t go unnoticed, as the man slowly lifts his other hand, he rests his palm against your cheek and runs his thumb ever so lightly against your lip, you can sense his distraction and you curse your stupid, pouty lips. His eyes soften for a moment. Then he snaps back to reality.

“You will walk with me now, back to your house. Let’s go.” He loosens his grip on your wrist but does not let go. You begrudgingly begin the awkward walk back, nothing is said until you reach the gates.

The man buzzes the intercom and Jools answers, he must be back, internally, you relax, knowing that this will go a lot smoother than if the other man was still filling in.

“Olive? Is that you?” Jools questions, obviously anticipating your return, but not so early, his confusion is notable.

“It’s Levi. Open the gates.” The man answers back without emotion

Levi. You ponder on his name as you are practically hauled inside. You’re sure you’ve heard it before. Jools meets you at the entrance, he glances to Levi’s tight grasp on your wrist, you see the cogs going at maximum speed in his head and you know that he has assumed the worst.

“What have you done Olive?” His voice is flat but you hear the concern.

“She was out. Wandering around. Flaunting herself, like she is not on house arrest. Touching expensive jewellery, you should really pay more attention Wilkinson.” The use of Jools last name is alien, you’ve almost forgotten he has one.

“Levi” Jools begins cooly, he holds back a snort. “Olive is not on house arrest anymore, although I admire your commitment to your job.” You cannot make eye contact with Jools or you will be beaten for laughing, you are sure of it, Levi drops your hand like you have shocked him, he grunts and addresses Jools, “Wilkinson. Were you not one of Bosses favourites, I would break your nose. You are stupid to let her wander around alone. If I were in charge, I would leash her, like a little dog. A stupid, little dog.” you can tell this was one of his kinder name callings. “She has plans to get away. I can tell, and I’m warning you, she is not to be trusted,” Jools interrupts, his tone is equally aggressive as he bites back,

“Levi, Boss has not tasked you with worrying about the girls. You should go back to your real duties. Olive is my problem, not yours.”, You’re sure there is a little possessiveness behind his voice. For a moment, it is like Levi and Jools are facing off like two aggressive hunting animals, and you are the winning prey. Levi opens his mouth to say something, and then resigns himself, he sighs and turns away to leave.

“I will catch you when you try to run eventually, little puppy. And I will beat the living shit out of you for disrespecting Boss after everything he has done for you. Watch your back.”

He is gone before you can make a snide remark back, though you should know better, Jools would surely step in to protect you here, that you are sure of. You settle at sticking your tongue out in the direction in which he left, Jools laughs heartily.

“You stupid girl. There isn’t a person alive who has spoken back to Levi Ackerman, he is Boss’s right hand man, you should be more careful.” He ruffles your hair playfully.

“There is something about him Jools, that makes me want to provoke him. A feeling that he may not be capable of hurting me.” Jools snorts.

“You really are an idiot,” He pauses, “though there was something about the way he looked at you, like he wants to devour you alive,” he shudders, “creepy.”. Your cheeks blush, you would never say so aloud, but you might fancy the idea of being eaten by Levi Ackerman, Boss’s right hand man.

You breathe in and start, “I’m going to retire to bed Jools, I am tired. Give these pastries and pies to the other girls. Mrs Benzo sent them.” You hand the bag to Jools and smile. “What time is my first call tomorrow?” Jools looks at the screen of his computer, he clicks the mouse a few times and raises an eyebrow.

“10. Seems like Boss is set to be paying you a visit tomorrow. You’d better spend some time making yourself extra presentable tonight Ol, you want to remind him why you are worth keeping, and not discarding…” You shudder, Boss has made it abundantly clear that when you’re no longer deemed suitable as a working girl, he will send you away to be married off, or “dispose” of you, you don’t fancy either of the options and considering your savings are coming along nicely, you won’t have to endure this all for much longer.

“Thanks Jools. Love you.”. You turn on your heels and head back to your room. You spend the evening showering, shaving, sugaring and cleansing every inch of your body, ready for tomorrow, your mind keeps wandering back to a particular pair of sharp eyes and a chiselled jaw. How he would leash you and “beat the living shit out of you.”

You shake away the thought one last time and retire to bed. You close your eyes and pull your blankets up.

“Levi. Ackerman. Huh.”, you drift off to a comfortable slumber, something that happens once in a blue moon.

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 20

Last time, Gold and Lacey danced :)

Words: 2,331

[AO3]

The music kept playing. The Nolans breezed past them, moving in step with each other as though they’d been dance partners all their lives. David Nolan winked at Gold again, and Lacey bit her lip to hide a grin at the long-suffering expression it caused. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, which considering she was pressed up against the man she had a crush on was something of an achievement in her mind. Gold’s grip was firm on her waist, his hand warm in hers.

“What made you want to be a journalist?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Guess I’m a nosy bitch.”

Gold burst out laughing, head rolling back and she felt a lurch in her belly.

“People are interesting,” she said then. “Their lives, why they do what they do. I mean there’s unearthing scandals and exposing corrupt public figures, and that’s all good, but sometimes it’s nice to just document humans doing human stuff, you know?”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

“I think I understand that,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“I probably spend way too much time drinking in bars,” she said. “But I guess you’re only young once, right?”

“I vaguely remember,” he said, in a very dry tone, and she clicked her tongue.

“Come on, you’re not old.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.”

Lacey stepped back immediately, looking him over.

“Oh, are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “We can sit down, if you want.”

Gold shook his head, pulling her close again.

“I’m joking,” he said, turning her in a slow circle. “A little, anyway. I’m in no more pain than usual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Lacey smiled as she saw Astrid and Leroy waltz past. Leroy, it turned out, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“How did you injure your leg?” she asked, and Gold looked surprised.

“You don’t want to save that deeply personal question for Sunday?”

“Thought about it,” she confessed. “But it seemed appropriate to ask now.”

He nodded, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, as though he was wondering whether to answer.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing remotely newsworthy,” he said. “Merely a motorcycle, an icy road, and bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. I suppose I was fortunate that a ruined ankle was the worst I had to suffer. Physically, anyway.”

That comment made her curiosity grow, but she filed it away for the moment.

“Besides,” he added. “We were talking about you. Other than drinking with Miss Lucas, what are your interests?”

“You expecting me to admit to book-binding or basket-weaving, or something?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I find I never know what to expect with you, Miss French.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “I work, I drink, I eat and I read. Pretty much it.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

“How did we get fixated on me, anyway?” she demanded. “How about you answer a few questions?”

A tiny grin twisted his mouth.

“I agreed to,” he said, his eyes glinting. “On Sunday. Tonight I want to hear about you.”

Lacey let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I run,” she said, and grinned at him. “The scenery around this town can be very interesting at times, you know?”

Gold gave her a very level look, as though unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“I’m even worse a runner than I am a dancer,” he said, and she chuckled.

“You’re doing fine, but I take your point. I guess yoga might be more your thing. That’s another thing I like to do. Part of my morning routine.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you,” he said, and closed his eyes, looking pained. “I - I don’t mean I’ve been watching you, I’ve just - seen you in the garden, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I like it out in the open air,” she said. “I’ve even done it in the rain.”

A tiny grin appeared on his face, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Sounds - invigorating,” he remarked.

“You can always come over and join in, if you like,” she suggested.

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Gold looked down very pointedly before meeting her eyes again.

“Because I’m possibly the least flexible person in Storybrooke.”

“Then you’re the one that needs it the most,” she countered, and swatted his shoulder with her free hand, making him blink in surprise. “Come on! It would be good for you! The more you do it, the better it gets.”

Gold’s eyebrows twitched, and that twisted little smile appeared again.

“True of so many things in life, I find,” he murmured, and Lacey smirked.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed it does.”

His voice had gone low and throaty, his grip tightening a little, and she could feel her heart thump, her breath quickening a little. She licked her lips, her eyes on his mouth. He was almost close enough to kiss.

“Oh, Mr Gold, there you are!”

A familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the tension between them, and Gold jerked his head upwards, mouth flattening. Lacey wanted to growl as Zelena West strode up to them, in a long green strapless dress with a thigh split, white teeth bared in a grin. Gold’s face had taken on an oddly closed expression, his eyes losing their light.

“I’m so delighted you could make it!” went on Zelena. “And dancing with Miss French! I always knew you were a charitable person!”

She smirked as she said it, which made Lacey bristle, before turning her attention back to Gold.

“I certainly hope you don’t intend to make this your last dance,” she said. “The night’s young, after all. Perhaps I can tempt you later.”

“I think one dance is really my limit,” said Gold coolly. “Thank you for your effusive welcome, Miss West. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss French and I were having a private conversation.”

Zelena let out a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey want to throw something over her.

“Ooh, be careful!” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Miss French might seem as though she’s just making conversation, and the next thing she’ll be poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and getting you to confess to all manner of things.”

“That would suggest she’s very good at her job,” said Gold, as Lacey opened her mouth indignantly. “However, other than attempting to school me on the merits of yoga, she’s been going easy on me. I detect no burning desire to get me to spill my darkest secrets this evening.”

“Wait for Sunday,” muttered Lacey, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to grin. Zelena rolled her eyes.

“Well, I insist on speaking to you later,” she said. “I doubt Miss French can hold your attention for long.”

She sauntered off, leaving Lacey staring after her in outrage.

“Miss West appears not to care for you too much,” said Gold mildly.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Lacey was still scowling after her, but his hand was warm on her waist as he pulled her back towards him. She caught the scent of his cologne, feeling his fingers splay out across the small of her back and then slide together as he tugged her close.

“She’s a woman of poor taste,” he murmured.

His body was very warm, and Lacey was feeling a little breathless. She licked her lips.

“She seems to like you well enough,” she said, and he chuckled deeply.

“That only proves my point.”

The music slowed to a stop, and for a moment they stood there in silence before Gold smiled a little awkwardly and stepped back, releasing her.

“See?” she said. “You can dance.”

“With you to hold me up, perhaps.”

“Details, details…”

Gold grinned at that, and Lacey felt her heart clench again. The music started up, a livelier tune, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want to go again?”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” he said, in a dry tone. “Drink?”

“Please.” She grinned at him. “I can see David and Mary Margaret are calling it quits, too. I think I’ll go get to know them a little better.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin and bowed his head before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of one of the wait staff. Lacey watched him go, fully aware that she probably had, in Ruby’s words, ‘big pulsing cartoon hearts’ in her eyes.

The evening continued to go well. David and Mary Margaret were every bit as nice as they had seemed, and David seemed to be the only person in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t mind being teased by, however gentle the teasing might have been. Lacey was reluctant to pull herself away from Gold, but she was technically working, so she made sure to talk to plenty of other guests. She caught his eye on her a few times, and he glanced away whenever she turned to face him, causing David to nudge him with a grin and say something that made Gold close his eyes and sigh. It made Lacey bite back her own grin, and she wandered back over to watch the prize draw with Gold and the Nolans. The champagne was going to her head.

Once the prize draw was done—the top prize of a three-course dinner with champagne being won by Leroy—Zelena walked onto the stage to take the microphone as the applause was dying down. Beside her, Lacey felt Gold stiffen, as though he was apprehensive. As though he was waiting for something. She recalled Sidney saying that he thought the evening was about more than charity work, and across the room she saw him watching Zelena intently. Zelena bared her teeth in a wide smile, flicking back her reddish curls.

“Thank you all for coming and for making this event the incredible success it’s been,” she said, her voice carrying. “I think we can all agree that the food has been first class, so thanks to Granny’s Diner for providing it.”

Applause rang around the room, and Lacey joined in.

“Tonight’s event has been the work of months,” Zelena went on, “but seeing the smiles on all your faces and knowing that all the money raised tonight is going to such a good cause - well, it just fills my heart with joy!”

Mary Margaret shared a smile with David, and Lacey eyed Gold, who was staring at the stage with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I have to confess,” said Zelena, “that I have another reason to speak to you tonight.”

Gold made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, as though he was confirming something to himself. Lacey found her curiosity growing, and edged closer to him. Zelena had begun to pace slowly back and forth across the stage.

“Storybrooke has opened its heart to me ever since I came here,” she went on. “We’re a close community. A community based on good old-fashioned values. Friendship, and family. Neighbourliness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to move here from New York and find a town so - so steeped in wonderful local traditions. So eager to welcome a stranger who felt that she had lost her way.”

She bowed her head a little, as though overcome by emotion. Lacey snorted quietly, but flattened her mouth as Zelena looked up again.

“You see, I’ve always wanted a life of service, a life of - of giving,” she said. “It’s why I’ve done so much for charities in the past. It’s why I’ve been organising these events since I came to Storybrooke. And yet - I feel that I could give more.”

She paused, shaking back her hair as she gazed around the room.

“I like to think that in my own, small way, I’ve helped this town through difficult times,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart with a self-deprecating smile. “And that’s why, after much soul-searching, I’ve made the decision to try to serve the town I’ve come to love so dearly in the best way I can.”

Another pause. Lacey had to admit that she had a talent for holding an audience’s attention. Zelena smiled, eyes widening with a hopeful expression.

“I have decided,” she said. “To run for Mayor of Storybrooke.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience, and a scattering of applause that rippled around the room. Lacey glanced at Gold, whose eyes had narrowed further, his mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes flicked to Regina Mills, who was looking shocked, lips parted and eyes wide. Her wife grasped her hand, leaning to whisper something in her ear, and Regina started before nodding and whispering something in return.

“I trust that I can count on the support of the many friends I’ve made since this town opened its heart to me,” said Zelena, in honeyed tones. “I have every faith that Storybrooke will prove to me once again that wishing for something hard enough can make dreams come true.”

She seemed to glance in Regina’s direction, but then smiled broadly.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of the night!”

More applause, and Zelena sauntered off stage as the music started up again.

“Well,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s - unexpected.”

“What’s the deal with the Mayoral elections?” asked Lacey.

“Regina’s run unopposed for the past few years at least,” said David.

“No one else wanted the job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Regina’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” said Mary Margaret, looking puzzled. “Surely no one’s going to vote for Zelena over her?”

“Depends what she’s offering,” said Gold, in a grim tone. “Or what she can use to bring Regina down.”

He said that last in an undertone, and glanced at Lacey as he did so. She could feel curiosity surge in her. His eyes flicked away almost immediately, but she nodded to herself. He knows something. And I’m gonna find out what.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #my fic

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part Two

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I’m putting it up and dealing with it later. I need to go study for my sociology test and get some coffee-- so, now it’s your problem

Warning: tw for suicide, major character death (IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK AT ALL)

Part One here

“Aaron!”

He’s flat on his back, a rickety old ceiling fan wobbling above him. The base sways back and forth as the blades turn. That has to be a hazard...

Two cold hands press to his cheeks, blonde strands of hair falling into his face. “Aaron,” his name comes out more urgently from her mouth. Those cold fingers tapping at his cheek, trying to rouse some sort of reaction out of him. He can’t. Can’t think of what to say. He just looks up at her. Haley. “Baby--”

He coughs, weakly craning his neck as the pain of his fall registers throughout the rest of his body. “Ah!” rolling onto his side, pulling his knees up, he groans at the sharp stabs of pain up his back. He clenches his jaw, a moment of sheer panic blinding him as he fails to recover from the feeling of having the wind knocked out of him. Unable to draw air into his shocked lungs.

Haley leans over him, moving to compensate for his pained struggle. Her fingers probe along the back of his head wincing in sympathy when she finds blood and he whimpers, weakly pulling from her touch. “What were you doing?” she asks, smoothing down the hair on the back of his neck. Trying to offer some comfort.

He can’t remember anything before the fan.

“Maybe--” she smiles down at him but he can see she’s just trying to look assured. His head is turned into her palm, Aaron having slowly curled into her. Trying to compress himself, needing to feel that she’s really here. “Maybe you should go to the hospital? You’re bleeding--”

He aims to shake his head but ends up grunting, blinded by the pain that mistake shoots up the base of his neck. “No,” he whispers, trembling hand coming up to blindly touch her. She catches his hand, folding his fingers within her own and pressing them down. Holding him still. “No,” he manages, a little more assured. “I’m--I’m okay.”

Blinking, a cold sweat breaking out across his face he shifts a numb arm underneath him. Biting down to keep himself from making a sound as he eases him up. Attempting to sit up quickly dispels what he thought was a fact for fiction. His eyes roll back, white cold pain eating up his skin.

“Aaron,” she calls frantically.

The color of his naturally pale cheeks drains and sways for a moment, the color drained from his body. “I’m-- I’m--” he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to calm. He’s taken far worse hits than this. This is nothing. Fingernails digging sharp pain into his palms is grounding and slowly he opens his eyes and the living doesn’t spin. Everything is still, if not hazy.

“I’m okay,” he breathes.

I’m okay.

smoke burns his nose, his vision too poor to see past the steering wheel, past the spiderwebbed glass right in front of him

crying, strained screaming-- he can’t tell where the sound is coming from

his chest aches, stomach twisting with each pitched, nearly choked inhale of--

Jack.

Jack is screaming, little feet kicking hard and solidly as his chair

he has to get to--

“Aaron?”

He’s looking down at the carpet, confused but… It’s gone. The vision, his vision, is swimming dangerously and he weakly manages to place a hand on the carpet beneath him. Leaning onto it, as he tries to ground himself. “Sorry,” he rasps, swallowing down the fear that itches at the back of his throat. “Sorry, I just…” he went somewhere else. He’s not sure what happened but something feels incredibly wrong about this, about here.

Haley’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades, gently rubbing. “Let me make you some tea,” she offers.

Tea. No one can make tea like Haley. “Yeah,” he agrees. Just thinking about it calms him. “Please?”

She nods, pressing a kiss to his temple. As she steps around him she pulls a blanket off the couch, settling it over his shoulders. “Stay here,” she asks, brushing the back of her hand across his cheek. “I don’t want you to fall again.” He can feel her hesitancy, she doesn’t want to leave him by himself.

He doesn’t get up, he’s not even sure his legs will hold him, but he does manage to scoot himself across the carpet until he can lean against the couch behind him. The cushions are old, they give easily against him but he loves this old couch. Haley’s parents had given it to them when they moved away. It had been his bed many a night in their tiny hometown. This old couch has cured many of his ailments.

It sat in the spare room of Haley’s childhood home. An off to the side, usually shut room full of old but loved things from Haley and Jessica’s childhood. Including the beat-to-hell sofa her parents didn’t have the heart to throw out-- plus they’re southern and the couch wasn’t falling apart so it still had a use.

Every night he crawled home to them, he’d find himself lovingly tucked in on it.

He finds himself nodding off, head leaning into the sunken cushions. The whistle of the kettle startling him slightly. It makes his pulse jump, vision swimming. “Haley?”

sirens

a hand, padded by thick gloves wrap around the base of his neck

“easy, just hold still. you’re okay”

he glances as far as he can to his left, out the door to asphalt

he can see Jack, his happy little hands, rocking back and forth on his feet

“J…” his tongue heavy, body sinking

“stay with me”

“Aaron?” Haley’s squatting down over him, her cold hands cupping his head. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

He’s scaring himself.

She slides down next to him, throwing her legs over his so she can sit close. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Pulling the edges of the blanket back around him, she frowns when he leans against her. Tiredly just deflating until he’s limply laying with his head under her chin.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. His head is really starting to hurt. “I just… I think I need to lay down.”

Haley looks unconvinced but caves, nodding her. “Please let me help you?”

He’s not sure he can do it otherwise.

His feet drag on the carpet, nearly unable to lift them to move properly. There’s this chill he can’t fight, leaving him shaking as Haley holds them welded together. The bed, impossibly soft, as he sinks down is cold with their absence. He goes limply down, not fighting Haley as she tucks the thick comforter around him.

She crawls in after him.

He finally relaxes. The comfort of familiarity soothing his nerves. Haley’s arm over his chest, head on his shoulder is just as things should be. Closing his eyes, he lets sleep consume him. He needs it so badly. He can’t get warm, squirming, and trying to curl into himself to get some sort of warmth. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t rest.

He turns over searching the nightstand for a clock but there are none. He frowns, sitting up. Tossing the blanket off his legs he gets up. Unable to see the time, he needs to go figure it out. He has to make oatmeal, get the day going. His every day revolves around a strictly held schedule. A maybe concussion doesn’t warrant straying from that.

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for--” Jack. Aaron realizes where he is. He feels sick. There is no Jack. Not yet. This fantasy of his has no Jack. He swallows thickly and turns back around, shaking his head. He goes back to the bed. “Most have been dreaming,” he whispers, fighting to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.

He can’t remember having Jack. This boy, a whole child that he can visualize, is nothing more than a concept. They have no children.

He can’t sleep after that.

-----

“Let’s got out.”

He wakes, startles, alone in bed. Painful goosebumps have raised over his skin, shivering he squints up at her. She’s in the same clothes as yesterday, a fast that strikes him as odd. He can’t remember her changing her clothes yesterday either before they’d gone to bed. Yet, her hair is clean and swept back into a low ponytail. She looks happy.

“Out?” he asks. Sitting up, he self-consciously runs his hand through his hair. Taming what he knows is a rat’s nest. “Out-- Out where?” He tries so hard to rub the sleep from his eyes, aware of the fact that he’s gotten just enough sleep to wear him down more. Pulling himself out from under the sheets he glares down at his own body, he’s dressed too. They’d gone to bed in their clothes…

She sits down on the edge with him, taking his left hand. “For coffee,” she says with a smile. “You know that little bookshop just downtown? They put in a coffee bar! It’ll be fun. Come on, we can get a coffee and search the shelves. I know you finished the last one you got.” She smiles assuredly, rubbing at his arm but she’s so cold that she does nothing to abate his shivering.

“Coffee,” he repeats. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

His stomach aches as they go. Twisted and acidic, he feels like he’s going to be sick but it’s not nausea. Disenfranchisement. Like he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“The normal?” Haley asks as they step into the shop. He nods, regardless of not being able to conjure up what his “normal” is. She lets go of his hand and he drifts, ghosting across the old, dust-caked carpet. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he’s just guided by the undertoned scent of the old books.

The crime section-- novels covered in deeps seas of black highlighted to catch the eye with the harrowing shifts to crimson-- is where he finds himself. Deja vu. Ted Bundy. Ed Gein. He knows these men far more intimately than he feels the novels he briefly skims through do. He slides one of the books back, grimacing at the tone. The baroque, vulgarity of it unsettling him. Some people just don’t have any business dealing with sensitive things like this.

He hovers over a copy of a book--

FBI Novelist David Rossi

The words are crimson, meant to catch your eyes.

He looks over his shoulder, stomach twisting like he’s afraid to be caught doing something he’d convinced maybe he shouldn’t be doing. He opens the first page, swallowing thickly at the dedication. To the footnote for the author Agent Rossi and his untimely demise--

Haley appears to his left, smiling when she sees him. “Whatcha got?”

He takes the coffee she offers out to him-- he glares at the cup but doesn’t comment. He can’t feel the warmth that should be pouring out of it. “Uhm…” he shows her the back. To the picture of the agent, unsure of how to ask what’s on his mind. Hotch turns the book over in his hand, an immense pressure building in his chest. Anxiety making him jittery. “I-- I thought… I thought he was--” he looks to Haley, mouth parted as he fails to draw these connections that he knows, intuitively, that he should have the knowledge to understand.

Haley turns the book, manipulating his hold to face the book to her so she can really see what it is that he’d got. “Oh God,” she whispers, sadly. “Don’t you remember that bombing?” She shakes her head, “it killed all those agents. You were furious, I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

But, suddenly, he does. It’s such a graphic memory that it feels more like… it feels fake with its intensity. He knows, though. His face hot, knees anxiously drumming as he sat precariously on the edge of the couch. Watching on hesitant, nervous breathes as the news spread steady, if not a bit misleading information on a bombing. He’d seen them. Sat there all day watching them add people’s names to a growing list of the dead.

“It’s written by that David Rossi guy,” Haley says. “You’d probably like it.”

He nods, dejectedly opening the cover. The book is dedicated to Rossi, a small note thanking him for his service to the country and his insights with the FBI. He thumbs through it a little more, nearly morbidly curious for what he might find. Scanning the words, waiting for something to strike him.

He nearly drops it, unable to breathe as he takes in something he can’t imagine.

In the months after the bombing, I reached out to the remaining members of the elite Behavior Analysis Unit (Behavioral Science when I founded it some nearly thirty years earlier with my now deceased ex-partner Jason Gideon). Derek Morgan, now the only profiler left of Jason’s team, was hesitant to continue any prolonged contact with me. I suspected his reliance having to do with the perseverance of Jason’s memory. After Agent Spencer Reid’s suicide, only a matter of weeks after the bombing, any contact I had with Agent Morgan ended. The Bureau has no comment on what lead the young genius to suicide.

“Oh,” Haley whispers sadly. “That’s so sad.”

He can’t breathe.

“Do you think he had PTSD?”

He roughly pushes the book back where he found it. His left hand coming to rub at his head.

“Aaron?”

That’s not how that ends. That’s not how any of that happened.

The day that Jason Gideon made that call in Boston Aaron been standing right beside him. Reid had been sent back to a local precinct with busywork to calm down. He was a new recruit and, rightfully, had no business even being in the field with them let alone in a situation like that. It had been him, his decision to pull Reid.

He remembers the feeling of the heat hitting his body.

The shrapnel wounds impeding his ability to stand so he’d dragged himself ten feet to safety where he’d passed out. Having no memory of what happened a week later and years after the fact he still can’t actually tell you what happened other than to repeat back what he’s been told.

“Let’s go home,” Haley slips her hand into his.

He nods, eyes unfocused as he follows blankly where she guides him. Chest tight, hands trembling weakly he realizes this must be some fucked joke. Revenge? A test? He’s done. He doesn’t want to play this game anymore. It’s tantalizing and demeaning and so overwhelming. Is this within his control and if it is can he stop?

He wants to stay here with Haley.

“What--What about--” he’s worked himself into such a state that he’s shaking. Unable to speak properly as finds himself desperately asking, “what about kids?”

Haley winces, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want any.”

No Jack.

“I think,” his voice is rasped whisper. “I think I need to lie down.”

Haley’s face falls, “ok. I’ll come with you.”

She holds his hand, whispering soft questions but he’s… gone. Hardly there at all, unable to even focus on the worried tone of her words. Asking if his head hurts or if he’d like some tea or something to eat. He just needs to lay down and eventually, she gives up and lets him.

Somberly, she lays down beside him. The bed sinks with her weight but she already feels too far away.

He can feel the weight of his chest deepening, each inhales a little shorter. “Haley,” he calls, hand searching blindly across their bedsheet for her. He finds her, skin chilled, but there. “I’m sorry.” Though she curls around him, wrapping an arm up around his back and pressing their hips close-- her contact does not abate his shivering. She can not comfort him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #tw suicide

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

GF - National Treasure

An AU in which Ford and Stan didn’t have a stupid fight, and the Pines family had been entrusted with a secret generations ago...

~~~~~~~~~~

The pair of eight-year-old twins carefully opened the screechy door to the attic. Inside the room was filled to the brim with boxes and old random stuff, but Mabel and Dipper knew better. They grinned and started to explore.

They were at Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford’s house for Thanksgiving. Normally the weather is bright and sunshiny and it’s perfect for making leaf piles and running around, but not today. Today it was raining with the occasional ring of thunder and a flash of lightning. So rather than go outside while the adults sat around the burning stove and talked about boring adult stuff, the kids decided to go on a little adventure.

Mabel flipped a switch and a sad hanging lightbulb turned on. Seeing what they wanted, Dipper grinned and started to climb cardboard boxes like steps for a book up on the highest stack. Mabel held the boxes still for her brother, and together they retrieved the old maroon book encrusted with a gold emblem. Mabel made sure Dipper climbed down safely, and then they looked down at the book together with their backs to the door, a poor decision.

“Whatcha got there?”

The kids gasped loudly and turned around. Standing side by side was their great-uncles, the only other pair of twins in the family. Grunkle Ford stood in his slacks and red sweater-vest with a brown dress shirt and trenchcoat, a soft smile on his face and his six-fingered hands in his pockets. Grunkle Stan had his arms crossed over his beefy chest, smiling slyly at the kids, as if telling them silent that he was proud of them for being so sneaky. He wore worn blue jeans and a faded white tank-top, and had an old maroon robe on.

“Uh…” Dipper stuttered, still a little startled by the sudden appearance and for getting caught. “Um… we…”

“You both know you’re not supposed to be up here.” Grunkle Ford reminded them gently, not sounding at all angry, rather amused.

Dipper nodded, but Mabel was bold enough to admit, “We just wanted to know the truth.”

“Ah,” Grunkle Stan pulled a cardboard box to himself and sat comfortably. “I guess I’m up for a little storytelling.”

Grunkle Ford sat on a separate box and asked his brother, “Are you sure about this, Stanley?”

“They’re old enough.” Grunkle Stan said confidently, ruffling their little heads. Giggling, Mabel crawled up onto Grunkle Stan’s lap and Dipper sat on Grunkle Ford’s lap, the book still in his tight grasp.

“Tell us a story, tell us a story!” Mabel pleaded, bouncing on Grunkle Stan’s lap.

“Okay, okay.” The old man chuckled and began to tell his story. “It was 1852…”

“No it was not.” Grunkle Ford interrupted. “It was 1832.”

“Shaddup, I’m telling the story!”

“I’d let you tell it id you would tell it correctly.”

The kids giggled at the playful bickering and Grunkle Stan joined in. “Alright, fine, it was 1832. It was storming, kinda like it is right now, and late into the night. Charles Carroll was the last guy who had signed the Declaration of Independence and was still alive.”

“You do know what that is, right?” Grunkle Ford asked the children, who both nodded.

“We learned about it in school.” Dipper informed.

“Oh, good.”

“Anyways,” Grunkle Stan injected, excited to tell his story. “Charles Carroll was part of a secret society called The Masons.”

“Like me!” Dipper gasped.

Grunkle Ford chuckled and ruffled his hair. “That’s right, my boy. That’s right.”

“You see, this Charles guy was dying.” Grunkle Stan went on. “And so he had his stable boy drive him in the dark storm to the White House so he could talk to Andrew Jackson.”

“Why?” Mabel asked.

“Cuz Charles had an important secret to tell the president before he died.”

“Did he talk to him?” Dipper asked.

Ford shook his head. “No. He never got the chance. You see, the stable boy went to alter the president, but he wasn’t home that evening.”

“Probably too busy kicking Indians outta their homes.” Grunkle Stan muttered bitterly.

“Stanley,” Grunkle Ford hissed warningly.

“So, with no one else to tell his secret to, Charles locked himself inside the carriage with the stable boy, our grandfather’s grandfather, James Pines, and told him his secret.” Grunkle Stan said.

“What was his secret?” Dipper asked.

The old men exchanged smiles, then whispered at the same time, “A treasure.”

A crack of thunder and lightning made the children hold onto their great-uncle tightly. “A treasure beyond all imagining.” Grunkle Ford muttered.

“A treasure that had been fought over for centuries by tyrants, pharaohs, emperors, warlords.” Grunkle Stan added.

“And every time it changed hands, it grew bigger and bigger.”

“And then suddenly,” Grunkle Ford snapped his fingers. “It vanished. And it didn’t reappear until over a thousand years later, when knights from the first crusades discovered secret vaults beneath the Temple of King Solomon.”

“You kids do know who King David and Solomon are, right?” Grunkle Stan double-checked. When Dipper and Mabel nodded, he went on with the story. “The knights who found it agreed it was too good for anybody, so they brought the treasure to Europe and formed a group called The Knight Templar.”

“Over the next century, they smuggled it out of Europe.” Grunkle Ford narrated. “They formed a new brotherhood called The Free Masons, after the builders of the great temple. But then the Revolutionary War happened, but by then the treasure had been hidden again.”

“And The Free Masons now included folks like George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Paul Revere.” Grunkle Stan said. “They knew they had to make sure the British never got their dirty hands on it, so they devised a series of clues and maps to each location. Over time, the clues were lost or forgotten. That is, except for one last clue, and that’s what Charles wanted to give to the president, but he gave it to James Pines.”

Grunkle Ford and Dipper opened the book, and the old researcher pulled out an old piece of paper, then read it out-loud to the children. “The secret lies with Charlotte.”

“Charlotte?” Mabel repeated. “Who’s she?”

“No one knows.” Grunkle Ford answered. “Not even poor Charles Carroll knew.”

“But, the Masons and the Founding Fathers were clever, like us.” Grunkle Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill, showing the kids the symbols. “The unfinished pyramid, the all-seeing eye. Those are symbols of the Guardians of the Temple. They’re speaking to us, just in a language we don’t speak yet.”

They all heard warm chuckling and looked at the doorway to see Dipper and Mabel’s father standing in a red flannel and smiling at the warm scene. “Or they thought it looked cool and decided to put it on their money so other countries would take them seriously.”

Grunkle Stan shook his head and pocketed his cash. “Your old man doesn’t believe in the Free Masons anymore.”

“I just think our Founding Fathers were a little too busy fighting for their lives and freedom to have time to hide the world’s largest treasure and leave clues on how to find it.” Alex said with a shrug. “Anyway, we really should get going. Thanks again for having us over, you guys.”

“Of course, we’re always happy to see you all.” Grunkle Ford reassured as the old men put the kids down and stood up.

Alex went downstairs, and Grunkle Ford and Stan moved to follow, but a small voice stopped them. “Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, are…” Dipper stopped, shy and hesitant, and rubbed his arm bashfully.

But Mabel understood him and finished the question for him. “Are we knights?”

Grunkle Stan laughed and Grunkle Ford chuckled warmly at their children. “You both wanna be?” Grunkle Stan asked.

The kids nodded excitedly.

“Okay. Kneel.” Grunkle Stan instructed.

Dipper and Mabel obeyed. Grunkle Stan shed his robe and grape it over Dipper’s shoulders, meanwhile Grunkle Ford took off his trenchcoat and decorated Mabel with it in the same manner. Then Grunkle Stan took out his pocket knife, popped it open, and held it upward, like a sword.

“Mason and Mabel Pines, as great-great-great-great-grandkids of James Pines, do you take the duties…” Grunkle Stan snorted. “Heh. Duties.”

Grunkle Ford groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose while the kids giggled. “Do you swear to take the responsibilities of the Templars, the Masons, and the family Pines?”

“We so swear.” Dipper and Mabel harmonized, and then Grunkle Stan lightly tapped each of their shoulders with his tiny sword.

At once the kids got up and hugged their uncles, Mabel to Grunkle Ford and Dipper to Grunkle Stan, but the old pair of brothers brought them all together for a big warm hug.

#GF #gravity falls #national treasure #fanfiction #fluff #dipper pines #mabel pines #grunkle ford #grunkle stan #dipper and mabel's parents

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Caught in his web, Chapter 34

Chloe was nervous when Loki wanted her to go with him to work one Sunday morning.

She was a bit grumbly too because she had wanted to have a long lie after being at college all week and getting up early. But Loki dragged her out of bed and coaxed her into the shower with him, waking her up with a good fingering in the shower while he washed her. Ignoring his own arousal in the meantime.

Once dressed, they both went downstairs for breakfast. Then Loki took her out to the car where Nelson was waiting for them. Ethan and Samuel were already in the car, too.

Loki noticed that Chloe was quieter than usual and looked rather nervous. He knew she would be worrying about why he wanted her with him. He didn’t have any plans for killing anyone, and he decided he wasn’t going to do it on front of her again unless absolutely necessary.

‘You may be wondering why I’m taking you into the office today.’ Loki grinned.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him a bit, but noticed he was grinning and so was Ethan and Samuel, confusing her a little. But also unsettling her. ‘If you’re going to kill someone, I’d really rather not be there.’ She said quietly and shifted nervously.

Loki chuckled. ‘I don’t have any plans to, doll. But there is a surprise. I need you to look after someone for me.’

Chloe continued glaring at him, still not sure if she liked where this was going. ‘Who is this someone?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ His grin grew even larger.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be more nervous at that or not. But she tried not to think about it for the duration of the journey to Loki’s office.

When they arrived, they went inside and Loki was greeted as usual by the receptionist being a little flirty. Chloe felt slightly jealous at that, though she wasn’t sure why exactly… But she found herself grabbing his arm as they walked past. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Loki, making him feel pleased as punch.

When they got to the top floor, Loki’s office, Chloe saw Ben was there and so was David and Michael. But she didn’t understand who she was supposed to look…

‘Oh my god!’ She squealed when she saw a German Shepherd puppy bounding over towards them.

Loki laughed at her reaction as she crouched down and greeted the sociable pup.

‘This, is who I need you to look after today for us.’ Loki said, crouching down to pet the puppy too.

‘Really?’ Chloe asked, her face had lit up entirely.

Michael walked over and handed Chloe a lead for the puppy and a bag of his things. ‘My wife was desperate to get a puppy. But she had to go visit her mother for a few days, so I couldn’t leave him at home alone.’ He smiled.

‘What’s his name?’ Chloe asked.

‘Bear.’

‘He’s absolutely adorable.’

‘You’re in charge of him for today while we do business. Here’s a key card for the lift.’ Loki pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to her.

‘Thanks!’

Chloe enjoyed her time with Bear. She played ball on one of the empty floors down below Loki’s office, took him out for short walks along the street to a small open space of grass. She had to take him there regularly for potty breaks.

But the best part was of course all the puppy cuddles!

Loki had her join him for lunch. Ethan went out and got them a takeaway. Loki and Chloe ate it alone in his office, with Bear. Michael, Ben and David had to go out somewhere.

Chloe felt her heart melt entirely as she watched Loki snuggling with Bear. The puppy was licking all over his face, making him laugh.

After lunch, Chloe took Bear out for a toilet break again. On her way to the small green she passed an ice cream stand that had opened up, so she got an ice cream on the way. She was waiting for Bear to do his business and enjoying her ice cream when she had a weird feeling that she was being watched…

She scanned the area and spotted someone sitting on a bench not too far from her. He was wearing sunglasses and a cap, looking at her over his newspaper.

Feeling uneasy, she hurried Bear along and started heading back.

While going along the pavement, she glanced back over her shoulder and noticed the man was now following her. So she scooped Bear up into her arms and walked quicker, the poor puppy couldn’t walk very fast with his tiny legs.

‘Chloe!’ The man called out from behind her.

She stopped and turned, confused at how he knew her name. As he reached her, he removed his glasses and she recognised him as one of the officers that had came to the house yesterday. The one who had given him the card… What was his name again? Oh yeah, Officer Stones.

‘What do you want?’ She snapped at the officer.

‘I know who Loki is and what he is capable of. I was hoping you would’ve contacted me by now, I can help you if you tell me the truth.’

Chloe was slightly lost for words. She shook her head and started backing away from him. ‘No. Leave me alone.’ She turned and tried to get away, but he quickly moved on front of her again, blocking her way.

‘Listen to me, Chloe. Your father is’

‘I don’t care about him! He sold me!’ She snapped, stunning Stones slightly.

‘What? In what way? Tell me, I can help you!’

‘No, leave me alone!’ She shouted, earning a few glances from some passer-by’s.

‘Are you alright, love?’ A man asked, stopping. He glared at Stones.

‘No, this man is harassing me.’ Chloe said.

The man turned more to Stones and managed to put himself between him and Chloe. ‘Leave the woman alone.’ He snarled at him.

Stones put his hands up in defence, knowing it wasn’t worth to continue right now in public. He then skulked away, Chloe felt relieved.

‘Did he hurt you?’ The man asked.

‘No… I’m ok, thank you. I’m just going in there… Thanks.’ Chloe motioned to Loki’s building.

The man nodded and he walked with her to the door, making sure she got there ok. ‘Thanks again.’ She nodded.

‘No problem. Take care.’ He said kindly.

‘Chloe?’ David called, concerned as he got out of his car and saw her with a strange man. ‘Who’s this? Everything ok?’ He glared at the stranger.

‘Yeah. This kind man helped to get rid of someone who was harassing me.’ Chloe said quickly, so David did think the wrong situation.

David’s face immediately relaxed a bit, but he still looked concerned. ‘Who was harassing you?’

‘Officer Stones…’

‘He was an officer?’ The man asked, confused.

‘It’s a long story.’ David said. ‘Thank you for stepping in for her. What’s your name?’ David shook his hand.

‘Andy Rogers.’ He smiled.

‘Well, thank you Andy.’

‘No problem at all, I’ve got a daughter of similar age. I’d hope that someone else would do the same for her if needed. Take care.’ Andy nodded to them both and headed off.

‘Did Stones hurt you?’ David asked as he went inside with Chloe, opening the door for her.

‘No, he just wouldn’t let me get back here. Until Andy stepped in, luckily.’ She told him.

‘We best tell Loki. Stones is getting too big for his boots now.’ David grumbled.

Chloe snuggled into Bear when they got in the lift and started heading up.

‘Give me a cuddle!’ David said, reaching out for the puppy.

‘Aw, I thought you meant me!’ Chloe teased, making David laugh. He put his arm around her too and gave her a squeeze.

‘You are cute but I’m afraid the puppy is cuter.’ He winked at her.

When they got to Loki’s office, they filled him in about Stones. Loki was furious. But he made a quick call to James and asked him to find out about Andy Rogers and to send him some money as a thanks. He was glad someone stepped in.

For the rest of the day, when Chloe had to take Bear out someone went with her. She didn’t really mind though. It was either David, Samuel or Ethan, they kept arguing over who would go with her. Mainly so they could get puppy cuddles. It made Chloe laugh though, nobody could resist a puppy!

It was after six and Chloe was just sitting on Loki’s chair with Bear sound asleep on her lap. She was almost falling asleep herself because she was getting a bit bored now.

She jumped slightly when Loki returned. He chuckled upon seeing her on his chair. He perched on his desk and smiled down at her and Bear.

‘Come on, doll. Time to head home.’

‘Huh? Where’s Michael? Is he not collecting Bear?’ Chloe asked.

‘Oh, yeah. That might have been a little lie.’ Loki grinned.

‘Huh?’

He laughed and reached out to stroke her hair back behind her ear. ‘Bear is yours. I picked him for you and had Michael collect him this morning.’

Chloe’s eyes widened. ‘What? Seriously?’ She squeaked.

‘Seriously.’ Loki nodded, delighted with her reaction.

‘Oh my god! Thank you so much!’ She laughed and, being careful not to squash or drop Bear, she hugged Loki tightly.

‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled and pressed his nose into her hair for a moment. ‘Now let’s go home and get him settled in.’

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #caught in his web

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once-upon-a-side-character · 3 years

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If you're still doing this, top 5 ouat arcs and top 5 villains?

I am still doing these! I’ve just been busy over the last week (and also I take ages writing very long winded answers). These were such good asks, thank you so much anon! <3

Top 5 arcs:

1. Season 1

Maybe this will surprise people but I won’t deny that I actually really had to force myself to get through the first season of ouat. On my first watch my fave characters were Regina and Rumple (because at least they were funny and therefore entertaining) and I just wasn’t gripped by any of the rest of them. Then I finished up to season 5 (since s6 hadn’t aired) and...rewatched it. And it is was so much better on rewatch. Yes, there are still bits I don’t like about season 1 (the love triangle with snow/david/kathryn still annoys me and I will never not be furious about the graham situation and just how poorly that storyline played out.) but the rest of it? Incredible. Everything just felt so balanced and well thought through. Yes, it was still a show about fairy tale characters (specifically...disney characters) but in season 1 all their stories felt mature and considered (instead of gimmicky). The wardrobe plot? Genius. And I just love the way they set up Storybrooke as a place and how we slowly get to know who each of it’s denizens are.

2. Season 3A

Season 3A was my fave season for a long time. Why? Because it’s gooooood! Pan is fun. I like the ‘Pan is actually Rumple’s horrible dad’ plot twist. I like Rumple’s character growth in his arc. I like Neal and Henry and their interactions. I like Emma’s character growth and how she comes to a lot of realisations about herself in this arc. I like that turmoil that Snow and David are separately experiencing (David’s thing with the dreamshade and Snow feeling guilty that she feels angry about missing out on Emma’s childhood). And I like some of the new characters introduced like Tinker Bell. I just feel like there’s a lot of good and interesting character development going on in 3A and overall I really like it for that.

3. Season 2

Season 2 is just Season 1 but with a bit more emphasis on the fairy tale part...and that’s why it’s good. I love the vast range of characters that we get to see and how much fun Once has in introducing every fairy tale character they possibly can. Mulan gets her debut! I love Tiny and that he finds a family with the dwarves, Cora is a pretty fun villain and I’m glad we get to see more of Victor’s backstory as well. There are a whole host of really great episodes in this season and I really like it <3

4. Season 4A

4A would be potentially higher on this list if it wasn’t for its pitfalls. The good parts about 4A were the Snow Queen’s arc (which did not get enough screen time) and all the bits to do with Emma’s past and childhood. Loved all of it. The issues I have with 4A stem from the frozen plot line. Now let me just say that frozen is easily one of my fave disney movies, so of COURSE I was pleased to see frozen characters. But I just wish that it had been a cameo instead of taking up the whole arc. And I also wish that they’d changed the damn costuming for the frozen characters as well. Poor Elsa being stuck in that dress for the entire arc was just heartbreaking. The whole thing felt like a cash grab and I just wanted it to be executed so much better than it was. THAT SAID I did still like it and yes I like this arc a lot overall.

5. Season 4B

This is just a FUN arc. I love the Queens of Darkness so I’ll admit that’s a big factor for me but also I love the emphasis on family in this arc. Obviously, you do have the turmoil between Emma and her parents and honestly I’m less keen on that whole plot line but on the flipside you have characters like Maleficent and her broken relationship with her daughter. Or maybe I AM just swayed by the Queens of Darkness

TOP 5 VILLAINS:

1. Jafar (OUATIW)

And yet another reason as to why OUATIW is so good... I won’t spoil too much in case there are those of you that would like to watch Wonderland and haven’t just yet, but..he’s just fabulous, I swear. Genuinely threatening and evil, but also suave and sexy, he makes for a pretty decent villain. But it’s what’s underneath it all that really pushes him to be a great villain. He has one of the most harrowing tragic childhood backstories out of any ouat character but he isn’t given a redemption arc because of it. We have a better understanding of his anger and why he did what he did. We have genuine sympathy towards his character. But it doesn’t change his status as a villain and I just think he has one of the most mature character arcs of any villain in ouat and that some of ouat’s other villains could have benefited from a similar narrative themselves.

2. Cruella de Vil

I mentioned her on my top 5 character list so I won’t ramble but she’s just FUN. I’m sure most of you have already seen that post floating around in response to the new Cruella movie, and how ouat’s Cruella backstory worked so well, and that post sums it up pretty perfectly. The show tries to make you think that a tragic backstory is going to play out...but it doesn’t. And she was just...an evil murderer that likes manipulating people and having her own way. She’s over the top and ridiculous and I never thought I would see Cruella de Vil playing angry birds on screen.

3. Zelena Mills

Zelena! is! a! fun! villain! Idk guys, I just feel like Zelena gets a lot of hate from fandom in a way that almost none of the other villains do. Is she a terrible person? obviously, yes. But she’s so uncompromisingly evil and she has FUN while she does it and I can’t not love and respect that. I think that her villain origin story is a little weak at times (the jealousy angle is obviously a necessity but also a little overplayed at times) but overall I just love her dry humour and snarky little comments and I think she’s lots of fun.

4. Rumplestlistkin

I care a lot less about Rumple post season 3 but I will say that overall I think he’s a really enjoyable character and a fun villain. Imp!Rumple in particular is super fun (although I really like his Mr. Gold alter ego almost as much). He’s chaotic on the surface but meticulous and calculating on the inside and that makes for a thoroughly enjoyable villain. Killing him off at the end of season 3A would have been a better narrative arc for his character...but I won’t deny that I would have been sad to see him go so early on and the show wouldn’t have been the same without him.

5. Maleficent

Mal is a little different to the others on this list because actually I really like (I’m not quite sure that you can call it a redemption arc, per se, but) the sympathy her character is given. She was always a pretty neutral villain. She mostly seemed to just mind her own business unless she was provoked. And then she had her child stolen from her and I really did feel for her. She’s badass, cool and sexy and I hope she and Lily are having some nice mother-daughter bonding moments in Storybrooke or wherever they are. (Plus that suit is one of the best villain looks in the entire show).

#asks #anons #i haven't forgotten about that other anon btw!#It was just a tricky one i need to think about <3 #ty for these asks guys :')#i hope at least some of you find them interesting to read

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