#(hello I am not dead but I need a new laptop or borrow one for posting on here. bit of a problem.)

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

So I saw this post by @taintmansion:

Followed by these tags from @dinkydiamond:

...and I knew my time had come. Behold:

[funnyexel]

Something About You

Loki x Black Female Reader

A/n : In honor of the kick off of Loki, I’ve made this little short story about him. Thanks for 90+ followers! Requests are open!  Masterlist Mega List

You sat in the same seat you always did. In the same coffee shop you always visited but somehow today felt different...It didn’t feel like the other days. Typing away on your laptop, a towering male takes a seat across from you. Ignoring him, you continue your work. Stealing a glance, you see he has been staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try your best to sound intimidating. “Can I help you?” You look up from your screen for a few moments. He shakes his head, still in awe with something about you. 

“Look. I don’t want to be rude or anything but your staring is kind of distracting me.” You finally stop what your doing, trapping him in solid eye contact. Your eyes roam around his figure for a moment. Jet black hair, that reached his shoulders. Pale skin, that looked even paler compared to yours and a lazily sharp jaw. “What are you writing?” Your face twisted in a confused format. “A book. I am writing a book.” You take a sip of your drink. “Don’t let me stop you.” He gives a peering smirk.

With a huff, you go back to typing. His eyes are still fixed on you. Saving your document and closing your laptop. You fold your hands on top of the device. “Ok, what? You have my full attention.” He chuckles at your words. His laugh shaking you to your core. “What kind of book are you writing?” You lean your head on your hand. “I don’t know yet. I’m kind of having writers block at the moment.” He nods his head to you. Your eyes gliding over this handsome stranger. “That does seem quite frustrating.” His voice smooth and his wording proper. “Yes, very.” You look out the window for a moment before turning your head back to him and putting your hand out.

“I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself to him, taking your hand he introduced himself. “I’m Loki.” His cold palm met your warm one and lightly shook. “Nice to meet you Loki.”

Y/n and Loki have met in that coffee shop ever since that day. It was their spot. They got to know each other. He’d tell her ridiculous stories about his home. Going on about how his father wouldn’t treat him like a son, how his brother is a brain dead doofus, and how he felt different from others. She could relate to some of his issues. He wanted to better himself and he told her, he was in a situation he couldn’t get out of. Months pass, you were on your way to your apartment from your publishers office in Midtown Manhattan. 

“Yeah, yeah the avengers are cool and all but no one ever considers the damages after their battles. People call me crazy because I don’t like this area.” You talk to yourself, quietly as you walk to the subway. Suddenly hearing screams and commotion, you turn your walk into a sprint. “This is why I don’t like this area!” You slide your card and your train comes into view. A spark of hope flares in your eye. Your footsteps slow to a stop, that spark in your eye dying instantly as the train gets blasted to pieces. 

The creatures speaking their foreign language, you slowly back up and run out of the subway. Stopping dead in your tracks at the sight. Some type of floats in the sky and more creatures. “I should have stayed in New Jersey.” You jog away from the subway entrance as footsteps become louder. Finding a building, you bang on the door. “Hello!? SOMEONE PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR” You hear shuffling inside, you know people are in there. “Please! I Know Someone Is In There!” You project your voice. Hitting the door one last time, you move on. “I hope it was worth it Y/n. You just had to give your publisher a paper copy because it was the best book you’ve ever written.”

You mock yourself. On the verge of tears. You suck those tears up at the sight of more creatures. Turning back, two appear behind you. Push comes to shove and somehow, someway you got taken on one of those floaty thingy’s. “Let go of me!” You twist and turn, trying to get out of their grasp. “Someone!” You scream. Seeing an opportunity to get out their grasp, you take it and get pushed off. Now falling from god knows how many feet, you scream fearing your inevitable fate. A pain hits your stomach, a hand holding your back. You groan, gripping onto the back for dear life. “damn, that hurt.” You mutter as your stomach aches. You lift your chin up, your head spinning.

“oh look at that...a blond man?” Your head was messing with you at this point. Hallucinations clouding your thoughts. You hear the person under you curse. Two palms hold onto each side of your waist, pushing you off with enough force to rip your hands off their back. A great power pushing you away. In the midst of it all, you get a glimpse of that recognizable long dark hair. “loki.” You roll backwards, your butt hitting the ground hard. Those tears that you were holding in before, flew freely down your cheeks. You attempted to wipe them away but they kept coming. Looking around through the tears, you see you’re in Central Park. Somewhere they didn’t reach yet, people were walking around like it was any other day. 

The pain of your ribs comes backs to bite, as you feel two of your ribs break. “Damn you and your strong shoulders.” You collapse, not yet having the energy to move from that spot. “Ma’am, are you alright?” You look aside. “yes.” You find the strength to wipe away the tears, holding your ribs as you sit up. A small pain hits your shoulder. “no.” You tilt and fall back into your spot, blacking out.

You groan, your head pounding almost as painfully as before. “Y/n L/n. Orphan. Mildly Popular Book Author. Three books published.” You force your eyes to focus in the dimly lit room. “where am I?” Your hand flies to your ribs as you sit up in the chair. “Unimportant. What’s important is why the chitauri would go out their way to get you.” You look at the black man. “I don’t know.” You breathe out. “You should know something.” Looking around the room, your eyes trail back to the man. “I know something.” You pause your sentence for suspense. “I know I have two broken ribs from being tossed around like a rag doll.” He chuckles for a moment before doing a hand motion.

A few moments pass, your wounds get tended to, with the black man gone, a few new comers take over. “Why would you let him do an invasion?” And before you could breathe a sign of relief, you get bombarded with questions. “I didn’t let him do anything.” They were convinced you had something to do with the invasion. “What were you doing in the area? Why did the chitauri capture you?” They were beginning to make your head hurt all over again. “I was giving my publisher a copy of my book and I don’t know.” You tried your best to answer the questions but they refuse to believe your answers.

“What part of “I don’t know” do you not understand? I keep telling you I don’t know meaning I actually don’t kn-” Your sentence gets cut off with a hissing of the restraint, they place on your mouth. Attempting to pull it off, they respond with grabbing your wrists and putting on handcuffs. Yanking you out the seat. “Maybe you’ll know like this.” They practically drag you to your next destination. “Get in.” It wasn’t a choice. Pushing you into a small capsule. They shut the glass, it wasn’t the roomiest of spaces. “Someone will talk.” 

You flinch at the sudden light, shining brightly into your eyes. “Do the avengers know you’re doing this?” Loki tries not to show his panic. This isn’t what he wanted for you. He didn’t want you to get caught up in his mess. “They don’t need to know as long as we get information.” You see the mans hand shift to a panel. Using the heavy duty cuffs you try to break the glass. Muffled screams come from your capsule. You shake your head, pleading for him not to drop the capsule. “Last chance.” Loki traps your eyes in a gaze, for the seemingly last time. Without remorse he pushed the button causing your capsule to- 

Your knuckles ache as your hands rip away from the sheets. With a groan, you sit up and dangle your feet over the edge of the bed. ‘I hate that nightmare.’ You sigh. Standing to your feet and looking back to the abnormally large bed made for two. Putting on shorts, you walk over to the kitchen. That’s what you loved about this place it was all one floor, very easy to get everywhere. Sitting at the island stool, you rub your fourhead. Gazing out the window missing your lover. You decided to leave the house. But not before leaving a note, just in case he came back before you. 

“went to earth for a little. will be back later. xoxo y/n”

Stepping outside into your yard. You click the little device Loki “borrowed” from his brother. Selecting “Midgard” a bright light taking you to the desired planet. Your nightmare recommencing on the way.

The whirling winds of the storm happening on the outside abused the capsule as it fell into a foggy cloak. Before you could realize, what you’d done. You were holding onto a bright gold little hint of green string. It was powerful. “Did I just do that?” You said to yourself. The highspeed winds making it impossible to hear yourself.

A loud crash echoed the vacant alleyway as you are brought onto the planet. “I need to fix that.” You groan, getting off the floor and looking around to see which area you’re in. Waiting patiently for a crowd of people to walk by, you quickly step out of the alleyway and join them, blending in. You stop at your coffee shop, missing their signature drinks and food. You sat at your usual back table. The worker recognized you and began to prepare your order. While waiting you, spent your time on social media. You saw your friends and how they’re getting their lives together. You noticed that they were messaging you about how you never post anymore and how they are worried about you.

Thanking the worker with a smile as they placed your order down, you take the time to try and respond to most of the messages. Your leg began to bounce and you started to feel uneasy. Steadily glancing up from your phone, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. A small tap on your shoulder startled you. Your eyes following the well shaven man sit in the seat across from you. His aura was fairly strong but compared to yours it was faint and weak. For a moment your leg stopped but then your hand began to tap on the table. Your anxiety becoming known. “Can I help you?” You ask, trying to continue to reply to the messages and distract yourself from this man.

“I’m Doctor Strange and I’d like to have a word with you.”

Part 2?

[toosicktoocare]

I’ve got BatFam on the mind. 

Jason sinks back against his couch, humming pleasantly, and he’s just about to kick his feet atop the ottoman and open the new book he’s been eager to dig into for a month now when a quick, patterned knock on his apartment door interrupts his eased thoughts, startling him briefly before he sighs loudly. 

He’s just decided to ignore it when the knocking continues, accompanied, this time, by a small voice he, unfortunately, recognizes almost immediately. 

“Jason?”

He makes sure the groan that builds from the back of his throat is dramatically loud and equally as long as he drops his book on the abandonded couch behind him and starts to the door, undoing the locks and pulling the door open with a familair frown reserved specifically for the damned “family” of his. 

“Replacement,” Jason bites out, fingers curled lazily around the edge of the door. 

Tim’s drenched before him, shuddering slightly with his arms wrapped tightly around his too-slender frame, and his normal, calculated composure looks to be nudging the brink of breaking. He squeezes under Jason’s arm, letting himself into the apartment, and Jason drags a deep sigh out. 

“I need your help.” 

“Did you already forget where the door is?” Jason asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Because it’s right there, and I’m happy to escort you out.” 

Unfazed, Tim slows his pacing down, stopping in the center of Jason’s entryway. “Dick’s been kidnapped.” 

Jason rolls his eyes, a bad habit he hasn’t cared in the slightest to remedy. He drags narrow eyes up and down Tim’s uniform. “And I care because?” he draws out, arching both brows. 

Tim sighs at this, and if Jason weren’t borderline dangerously annoyed, he’d be a little impressed that he’s managed to just barely get under Tim’s skin. 

“Look, seeking out your help made the most sense logistically.” 

“Logistically,” Jason parrots back flatly. 

“You’re the closest to our location.” 

“And, you came here instead of helping,” Jason points out, motioning toward Tim’s suit. “Why waste the time? You’re capable of helping him yourself.” He’s hoping, smally, that the fraction of a compliment will boost Tim’s ego up just enough to send him out the door, and yet, Tim visibly deflates before him, tugging his mask off and coughing into the crook of his arm. 

“I shouldn’t be out.” 

“Because you look as if you took a deep dive in the Gotham River in the dead-ass middle of winter?” 

“And because I have the flu.” 

Jason frowns sharply, eyes flicking from one too-flushed cheek to the other. Without thinking fully, he crosses the room and slaps a palm to Tim’s forehead, finding him alarmingly hot to the touch despite the icy water dripping off him.

“You do remember that you’re kind of missing your spleen, right?” Jason questions lowly, stepping back to further assess Tim’s condition through gaze alone. 

Shuddering, Tim hugs himself tightly, eyes casting to the ground. “Dick asked me to come out and help. I told him it may not be a good idea because,” he pauses, turning to hack harshly into his fist, “well, that. But he insisted.” 

“He insisted,” Jason repeats darkly, eyes flashing a brief red. 

Tim meekly nods, swaying on his feet, and Jason growls in the back of his throat, guiding Tim to the bathroom. “Christ. Hot shower and change into something dry,” Jason spits out, already whipping toward his bedroom for his suit. He’s quick slipping it on, easy muscle memory, and he’s just slipped a few guns into the holsters at his sides when Tim clears his throat. 

“You’re going to help?”

“Apparently,” Jason grumbles, hands adjusting the clip of rubber bullets. “The last thing I want is you keeling over in my apartment and the big, bad, Bat blaming me for it. Plus, I now have a reason to rip Dick a new one for being a fucking idiot.” 

“Thanks,” Tim sighs, visibly relieved. “There’s a dock with a wooden boat house at Gotham River, east side.” 

“Got it,” Jason starts, pasuing, mask only pulled over his forehead. “Hang on,” he stops his quick movement toward the door, whipping around toward Tim. “Did you actually deep-dive in the Gotham River when it’s close to the negatives outside?” 

“Got dizzy,” Tim mutters, coughing. “I kind of fell.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jason curses, snagging the keys to his bike before stalking out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

***

“Do you have a plan?”

Jason works through a colorful string of hushed curses at the sudden sound of Tim’s rough voice in his ear, forgetting that he’s never actually disconnected his comm. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyeing the boat house from his corner cover behind a brick wall. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping or some shit?”

“I wanted to help you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m borrowing your laptop so I can have eyes on multiple locations.” 

Jason’s working through a grunt that he doesn’t mind, but his brain wraps back around unspoken details. “I have my laptop password protected.” 

“’I am the Red Hood’ isn’t exactly a hard password to crack.”

Jason shakes his head, a huff slipping past his covered lips. “I’m moving far away from all of you after this,” he mutters, standing from his cover and approaching the boat house. 

“Hood, what’s the plan? You’re wide open right now.” 

“About that,” Jason draws out, stopping before the wooden door. He can hear multiple voices behind the rickety walls, Dick’s voice standing out loudly among the others. “I think I’ll just walk in, say a little hello.” 

Tim groans in his ear, muttering how he should have ignored logistics to find someone more competent, and Jason laughs lowly before kicking the door wide open, a sly smile curling against his covered lips as multiple men with guns whip toward the door, numerous barrels aimed right at him. 

Dick’s in the center of the room tied to a chair. His face is beginning to fade to blues and blacks, yet the look of pure, innocent surprise on his face completely contradicts the entire situation. 

“Hood?”

“I’d say long time no see,” Jason starts, one hand slowly moving to ghost above a gun at his waist, “but you’re a little hard to make out with all the swelling and bruising.” 

Dick rolls his eye that’s not swollen to hell, and Jason starts forward ignoring the rings of clicks that echo from every gun that’s pointed toward him. 

“Hey, aren’t you the Red Hood?” 

Jason cocks his head to the side, turning toward the voice. “Well, I do have a hood, and last I checked, it’s definitely red.” 

“Watch it, smartass. What business do you have with this one?” The man speaking, some gruff, bulky blond with distasteful tattoos littering his fingers, motions toward Dick with the barrel of his gun, and Jason tenses slightly, his hand now laying fully atop the gun at his waist. 

“Bird infestation,” Jason grumbles. “Gotta get this one to get rid of the other.” 

“Red Robin?” Dick calls out, jerking against the ropes that have his hands tied tightly behind the chair. “Is he okay?” 

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Jason mutters, and Tim crackles in his ears. 

“Hood, I don’t like these odds. I’m going to call for back up.” 

“No need, Replacement.” Jason drags a slow gaze back toward Dick, and though they disagree on 90% of things, they still, somehow, share this odd ability to communicate via look alone, and Dick gives a single nod to his silent question. “I have help.” 

“Jason-”

Jason slips both guns out from his holsters and stretches his arms out wide and open. “Let’s go, boys.” 

The next few seconds are loud, gun shots ringing out from every direction, and Jason feeds off the familair sound, adding into the mix with his rubber bullets that don’t miss. Dick, as he predicted, has broken the wooden chair he’s been tied to and has managed to wiggle his wrists free from the ropes. Jason covers him with one gun while targeting those running toward him with his other. 

The fight lasts a minute and forty-three seconds, with Jason and Dick ending on top, multiple unconsious men at their feet. 

“I’ve already notified Gotham PD,” Dick starts, rubbing at his wrists as he steps over a few bodies. “Where’s Tim? He was fighting outside, and one of these assholes broke my comm.” Dick’s tense, fear laced heavily in his voice, and Jason steadies his eyes into a sharp glare. 

“He’s back at my apartment, sick-” is all he manages out before Dick’s racing out of the boat house. “-as fuck, no thanks to you,” Jason finishes flatly to himself. He slips his bike keys from his pocket and starts out the door when he can hear sirens in the distance. 

***

Jason makes it back to his apartment a few seconds after Dick, and he’s making a very serious mental note to move far away when he slips through the open door to see Dick hovering over Tim, pressing a palm to his forehead, counting Tim’s pulse with his free hand. 

“Dick, I’m fine,” Tim whines, swatting at Dick’s hands, and Jason pulls his mask off and cocks his head to the side. 

“Spleenless, the flu is not ‘fine,’“ Jason gripes out, and Dick whips around to him, eyes wide, before dragging a quick gaze back to Tim.

“The flu? Tim, what the hell?” 

Frowning, Jason approaches the two, eyeing Tim dangerously. “You said he knew.” 

“I calculated a few scenarios,” Tim starts, coughing weakly. “I figured you’d be more likely to help Dick if you were pissed at him.” 

“What kind of fucking backwards logic-”

“-Dick!”

Jason’s unable to finish his thoughts when Dick drops to a knee in front of him, one hand curled tightly around his abdomen, his face pinched in pain. 

“Dick,” Tim presses again, shoving the laptop from his lap and leaning over the side of the couch to get a better look. “What’s wrong?” 

Jason’s seen some shit when it comes to this twisted family he can’t quite get out of, but he can truly say that he’s never seen Dick’s stoic composure crumble under the weight of injury, and his eyes grow wide all on their own, a lump building in his throat. 

“Nothing,” Dick grunts out around clenched teeth, his jaw a hard, sharp line, and Jason blinks around the muted grip of fear, groaning instead and pulling Dick to his feet despite Dick’s hiss of pain at his side. 

“Alright, Dickie Bird. Since my home is now apparently the house of the hurt and helpless, let’s look you over. One bird down in my apartment would be bad, but two? No fucking way.” 

He calls out for Tim to take some damn medicine as he drags Dick into the bathroom, pulling at Dick’s suit until the top half’s pulled down, revealing dark purple bruising littering Dick’s sides. 

“Your ribs?” Jason guesses, and Dick nods, swallowing back a moan of pain when Jason presses lightly on Dick’s sides. 

“Doesn’t seem broken, but we’ll wrap it just in case. I’m sure Alfred will personally kill me if I don’t.” Jason moves for his first aid kit, very much aware but choosing not to adress the hard eyes watching his every movement. 

“Jay-”

“I don’t want to hear it, D,” Jason says, snagging some large bandages he can wrap around Dick’s torso. 

“Thank you.” 

Jason groans loudly, crouching down to start wrapping Dick’s ribs. “I said I didn’t want to hear it. What’s up with you birds and your piss poor hearing?”

“I really didn’t know that Tim was sick. He seemed off, but he was insistent that we go and investigate the boat house. He said he had reason to believe they were smuggling drugs underneath the floorboards.” Dick hisses sharply when Jason tightens the bandages, promptly shutting him up. 

“I should have known that your mother hen instincts would have never let typhoid Timmy go out while sick.” 

Dick rolls his eyes around a wince, hand ghosting across the bandages when Jason stands up and backs away to critique his work. 

“Things just got a little out of hand.” 

“Clearly,” Jason says dryly, and Dick frowns deeply when he stands, the pain pulling at his sides hot and overwhelming. 

“I’ll call a cab-”

“-don’t,” Jason sighs loudly. “It’s late. You both can stay, but your asses are gone in the morning.”

The smile that spreads across Dick’s lips is blindingly familiar, and Jason finds he’s at ease with Dick’s boyish charm overcoming him once more. 

They slip out of the bathroom, and Jason starts to his room to get a change of clothes for Dick, pausing in the doorway to see Tim passed out on his bed, his breaths loud, congested. 

“I can move him to the couch,” Dick offers from behind him, and Jason only shakes his head silently, padding quietly into the room. “You both can sleep in here. He’s already infected my bed, anyway.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes,” Jason sighs, only faintly aware of how many times he truly sighs whenever one of the damn birds is around. He shoves clean clothes into Dick’s arms before stalking around him to change his own clothes, maybe take a hot shower to chase away the lingering chill, and finally, hopefully, start his book. 

“Jay?” 

Jason stops, one foot already in the bathroom. “If you look at me with those stupid, puppy eyes and say ‘thank you’ one more fucking time, I’ll make sure your ribs actually break.” 

Dick smiles wide and holds a hand up in mock defense before he slips into the bedroom and nudges the door closed, and Jason shakes his head, his own breath of a smile flicking at the corners of his lips as he closes the door behind him. 

[buckthegrump]

Internet History

The Himbo Chronicles

Summary: Bucky discovers something new on the internet.

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Warnings: swearing, that’s it

Word Count: 636

A/n: i was gonna wait until monday but whatever

It had been an accident he just wanted to look up one thing and his phone was dead. Y/n’s laptop was right there and she normally didn’t mind.

“Hey Y/n!” He called.

“What?” She yelled back sound like she was nearby but didn’t want to get up.

“Can I borrow your laptop for something?” He asked.

There was a long pause and Bucky was about to leave it alone when she finally answered. 

“Yeah sure, just don’t look at porn or anything!”

“I’m not gonna use your computer to look at porn, I don’t even use my own computer for that,” he muttered to himself.

He was in the middle of looking for a website that he no longer remembers the name of. Instead, he came across a website that he’d never seen before. And probably never would’ve noticed.

It started out as curiosity but then he dove deeper and deeper into the website and it changed into something else. It spent maybe five minutes on there before he found something that he probably wasn’t meant to.

And because he may be dumb but he’s not stupid, he went over to internet history and deleted his activity. He then ran up to his room to continue on the path that had been set before him.

* * *

It was past dinner time and Bucky hadn’t come out of his room since that morning. No one else seemed to be concerned but Y/n was a little worried that he’d slipped into a bad mindset. She made her way to his room of the compound.

She listened at his door for a moment and when she didn’t hear anything she knocked.

After a moment there was finally an answer.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked from the other side without opening the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said in a very chipper voice.

Cautiously, she opened the door and walked in to find Bucky laying on his side staring at his laptop. He smiled at her.

“Have you been on the computer all day?” She asked, like a hypocrite.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the screen. 

She walked over to the bed and kneeled on it handing her head over the back of the laptop. “What are you looking at - of shit.”

It was a hauntingly familiar website that she didn’t think anyone in the compound knew about, except maybe FRIDAY. But she wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had visited it before. 

“Are you on archive of our own?” She asked stifling a giggle.

“I found it while I was on your computer,” he admitted not taking his eyes off the screen. 

“There’s a lot of smut on there.”

He looked up at her confused.

“Porn,” she clarified.

“Ahh, I wasn’t looking at that,” he said.

“Sure babe,” she scoffed. She repositioned herself on the bed so she was sitting with her back leaning against the headboard. Bucky followed suit and sat next to her.

“I wasn’t, I found that they had avengers stories on here,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a bunch of people on here that love me?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t go around reading fanfiction about me,” she lied, “so I didn’t know.” (Also a lie but he didn’t need to know that.)

“I like the coffee shop and soulmate alternate universes.”

“Have you read any MCD yet?” She asked with a grin.

“No, what’s that?”

She patted his thigh and got off the bed. “Call me when you figure it out. No looking up what it means, that’s cheating.”

* * *

It was about one am when Y/n got a call from Bucky.

“Hello?”

“Fuck you!” He said in a groggy voice and hung up. She laughed knowing that he’d figured it out.

[zrtranscripts]

Season 9, Mission 9: Last Night

Blame it on the Vodka

~

[bells ring, distant voice gives call to prayer]

SAM YAO: [groans] Oh, the call to prayer is lovely, but my head really hurts. I guess that means we're in New Agadir. Oh, this must be our hotel. My memory's really fuzzy. Five, is... is that you on the top bunk? [bed frame creaks] Oh. Morning, Five. You look like how I feel. My skull's throbbing, feels like something's stuck to my head. [rubber stretches] Oh, hang on. No, something is stuck to my head. It's a sort of rubbery swimming hat. It's really cold, it's probably not helping my headache. I'll take it off. [rubber snaps]

What happened last night? I mean, we can't be the only ones who made it over the border. Where are the others? And who's got Veronica's briefcase? Ow! Oh, we need to stay calm. My head is killing me. I'm gonna get some water from the bathroom. [door opens, shower water runs, shower curtain whips across curtain rod, zombie moans] Zombie! In the shower! It's-it's soaking wet and tangled up in the shower curtain. We're six floors up, how'd it get here? It's coming after us. We've got to lead it out of the hotel. Run!

~

[zombie moans]

SAM YAO: Oh, the zom's almost on us. There's no time to pay the hotel bill, Five, just keep running, out into the street. [door opens, crowd chatters] Oh! Oh no, we're in the souk. There are people everywhere! Well, we can't leave the zom on the loose. Quick, Five, grab something from that market stall, the one with all the laptops. Yeah yeah yeah, that hard drive looks perfect. Aim at the zom. [zombie flesh squelches] Yes! Nice job, Five, you completely destroyed its head.

SHOPKEEPER: You completely destroyed my hard drive.

SAM YAO: Oh, we're so sorry. I-I can pay for the damage. My wallet's in my pocket.

[cloth rustles, dates squelch]

SHOPKEEPER: Ugh. I don't know what pre-apocalyptic guidebook you read, but dates are not considered currency here.

SAM YAO: My pockets are full of dates. How did they get there? Oh, why can't I remember anything?

SHOPKEEPER: Look, I don't want to involve the city guard, but the damage must be paid for. I'm sure we can come to... an agreement.

SAM YAO: [in a high-pitched voice] Disorganized. Useless things everywhere.

SHOPKEEPER: What did you say about my stall?

SAM YAO: Oh! Oh no, nothing! I mean, [nervous laugh] those words, they just-they just fell out of my mouth. Your stall's lovely!

SHOPKEEPER: Guards!

SAM YAO: Oh, no no no! Please no. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't even think it! [guard whistles] Oh no, it's the guards. Didn't Mo say the ones on the gates in the city were employed by New Agadir, not Skull-Kicker? Still, maybe if we explain...

GUARD: It's those two again. After them!

SAM YAO: Again? What did we do last night? Oh, come on, Five, we can't get caught. Run!

~

[goats bleat, chickens cluck, crowd chatters]

SAM YAO: All right, we've lost the guard, but we're surrounded by... goats, chickens, and uh... [mechanical sounds] robotic horses. I think we're in the livestock market.

MARYAM ABANI: Sam, Five, is that you?

SAM YAO: Uh, hello. Do we know each other?

MARYAM ABANI: We met last night.

SAM YAO: Oh yeah. Um, if it's not a rude question, why are you in a goat pen?

MARYAM ABANI: I'm in a what? Oh, I have no idea. Oh, how embarrassing.

SAM YAO: Don't be embarrassed. I can't even remember your name.

MARYAM ABANI: I'm Maryam Abani. Amelia Spens sent me to rendezvous with you outside New Agadir's walls.

SAM YAO: Did she? Then why didn't she tell us?

MARYAM ABANI: She intended to, but perhaps her transmission was intercepted.

SAM YAO: But why exactly did Amelia send you?

MARYAM ABANI: I'm a medical doctor. I believe I'm meant to replace... Dr. Myers?

SAM YAO: Maxine! Oh, okay. Yeah, we do need someone who can impersonate the doctor in Death's Hand. You can sort of hand-wave a lot of things, but it's hard to pretend to know how to take out an appendix if you don't.

MARYAM ABANI: [laughs] I believe I'm to play the part of Doctor Death, which is interesting.

SAM YAO: You should see who I'm supposed to be.

MARYAM ABANI: I think you might have told me something about it last night.

SAM YAO: Do you remember anything else?

MARYAM ABANI: The New Agadir city walls are encircled by a ring of traders. Last night, I found you in one of the refreshment tents and we started making plans to get you into the city.

[flashback]

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: It will not be so simple to get across this border into New Agadir. Skull-Kicker holds a monopoly on all advanced tech in the city. Anyone carrying new technology must surrender it to protect the city from infiltration by virus or spyware. Veronica would surely be taken, as would your headsets. Our heroics with Medhi will grant us no exception. We need a plan.

MARYAM ABANI: Let's have some tea while we have a think.

JANINE DE LUCA: I hardly think tea will help.

MARYAM ABANI: Nonsense. Sharing tea is a wonderful way to cement new relationships. I wouldn't have survived the fall of Lagos without a nice bottle of jasmine tea. Also my medical hammer. It turned out to be more useful at caving in zombie skulls than the makers probably intended.

JANINE DE LUCA: Well, I suppose some refreshments would be in order. [tea set clinks, tea pours] It's rather nice, actually.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: [slurps] Yum!

SAM YAO: Mm. Oh, that's delicious. Five, try some.

PETER LYNNE: Mm. Oh! Oh, that's um... it's really um, it's fresh and sort of floral and uh... Mo, aren't you having any?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: [sniffs] Is this cactus tea?

MARYAM ABANI: I thought it was mint.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: No, it's cactus, which should not be enjoyed by people who have a heavily-patrolled border to cross! It's very fast-acting! Everyone, stop drinking.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: I do feel a bit light-headed.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: This is a disaster!

JANINE DE LUCA: Calm down, Mr. Boujettif, we're bonding. Dr.... whatever your name is, have you heard of the McShell maneuver?

MARYAM ABANI: No, tell me about it.

JANINE DE LUCA: Well, you... Uh, how would you explain it?

SAM YAO: Ah, that, well, that, well... McShell's just for zombies, uh, really, but um... Sir, may I, can I borrow your goat? [goat bleats, SAM clears throat] Maryam, now imagine this goat is a zombie. And if two people run away from it at exactly the same speed and distance... Well, we'll show you. Come on, Five, let's confuse some goats.

~

[flashback continues]

[crowd chatters]

MARYAM ABANI: I-I think I've got the hang of it?

JANINE DE LUCA: As you can see, the McShell maneuver is an effective method of leading goats... [laughs] zombies into -

[goat bleats, table crashes over]

SAM YAO: - into the refreshment table. I guess, unlike zombies, goats don't follow the closest target. Unless that target's a platter of dates. Aha! Don't worry. If I put all of them, the dates in my pockets, then the goat can't eat them.

[dates squelch]

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: [laughs] Sam, stop.

MARYAM ABANI: Maybe we're not using enough goats? Once we're over the border, let's try again.

[present time]

SAM YAO: So you got over the border and went looking for goats?

MARYAM ABANI: And passed out in their pen. What a terrible first impression!

SAM YAO: Don't worry, I'm sure none of the others remember. That tea was really potent.

MARYAM ABANI: Mhmmm. Speaking of the others, where are they?

SAM YAO: No idea. I'm worried about Veronica. It sounds like we'd have needed to smuggle her over. Maybe – [high-pitched voice] Head!

MARYAM ABANI: What? What?

SAM YAO: Ignore me. That is the second time this morning I've blurted something involuntarily. I do have a splitting headache.

MARYAM ABANI: Oh. It could be an aftereffect of the tea.

SAM YAO: Well, if we all drank it, none of us would have been in a fit state to get Veronica across the border. We could have left her on the other side.

MARYAM ABANI: I can lead you back to the border, but we'll have to hurry before anyone steals your machine. Come on Sam, Five. Run!

~

[crowd chatters]

MARYAM ABANI: There's a chain link fence at the border and a contraband store on the other side. The guards are selling off confiscated goods, though Skull-Kicker usually keeps the best tech.

SAM YAO: If they took Veronica, she could have been sold.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Sam, Five, there you are! I couldn't wake you up this morning, so I came here alone, but it looks like you had the same idea. Have you found Veronica?

SAM YAO: Not yet.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Wait, you're Maryam, aren't you? I remember meeting you, and then tea, and then... Oh.

SAM YAO: And then what? Frances, you have to tell us everything you remember.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We made quite the fool of ourselves, Maryam.

[flashback]

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: That goat has made a terrible mess, and now the guards think you're troublemakers. To smuggle Veronica into the city now, you'll need to buy the most conspicuous piece of contraband you can find and carry it over the border.

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Boujettif, I am a highly experienced tactician, and that doesn't make sense.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: You're not a highly experienced tactician, you're a trader and a dilettante. Someone who doesn't do their research, cannot handle their tea, and absolutely not the sort of person who'll be trusted with an advanced computer.

JANINE DE LUCA: Ah, clever. Miss Dempsey, Dr.... Doctor, would you care to undertake this very important mission?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Yes.

MARYAM ABANI: What was the question?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We're going shopping, Maryam. Come on!

~

[flashback continues]

[crowd chatters]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We've got to find the stupidest bit of contraband on this whole stall.

[bees buzz]

MARYAM ABANI: What about this jar of animatronic bees?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Too small. Mo said we needed something to get us noticed. Like this!

[cloth rustles]

MARYAM ABANI: Is that a zombie? What's wrong with it?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It's dead, Maryam.

[MARYAM and FRANCES laugh]

MARYAM ABANI: I mean, why does it look like jerky, and why isn't it moving?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It must have dried up in the salt flats. It's so leathery.

MARYAM ABANI: It stinks.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It's perfect.

MARYAM ABANI: Let's get it back to the others.

[glass shatters]

GUARD: All units to zone six.

MARYAM ABANI: You don't think that's anything to do with us?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Let's avoid the guards, just in case. There aren't any by that fence, come on. [footsteps] Where are we?

MARYAM ABANI: I think we crossed the border by mistake while the guards were distracted.  

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Is that a good thing?

MARYAM ABANI: I-I can't remember. Maybe?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Let's go to our hotel and wait for the others.

MARYAM ABANI: I'll catch up with you. I need to find some goats.

[present time]

SAM YAO: Frances, once you got back to the hotel, you didn't put the desiccated zombie in the shower by any chance?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: No idea. Why?

SAM YAO: No reason.

MARYAM ABANI: Look, that man has Veronica's briefcase!

SAM YAO: We've got to stop him. Run!

~

[crowd chatters]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Hey! You with a briefcase, stop!

BUYER: Excuse me?

SAM YAO: Uh, hello sir. Your briefcase... [high-pitched voice] Not necessary.

BUYER: Excuse me?

MARYAM ABANI: I'm sorry, he had a late night.

SAM YAO: Uh, please, uh, can we see that briefcase?

BUYER: No.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I can see the monogram. I'm sorry, but there's been a mistake. This belongs to us.

BUYER: I bought it only an hour ago.

MARYAM ABANI: Can we buy it back from you? Sam, do you have any money?

SAM YAO: Uh...

BUYER: It's not for sale. I like the color. Good day!

SAM YAO: I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Five, can you... grab it!

BUYER: How dare you! Give that back!

SAM YAO: We're really, really sorry, but we need it because our friend is sort of -

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Veronica's not inside! All her components have been torn out. There's nothing in the briefcase except papers.

BUYER: Yes, my papers. Guards, guards!

GUARD: It's those reprobates! After them!

SAM YAO: Oh no, not again! Five, give the briefcase back and run! We can't get caught by the city guards. We're wanted for disorderly conduct, destruction of property, and now theft!

MARYAM ABANI: Not to mention anything else we got up to last night.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Don't panic. We'll find Janine, Peter, Mo, and Veronica and get this all sorted out. Just keep running!

~

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series - CH.2

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir, Liam and Riley are about to give up when Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 2000 ish

Chapter Summary: Liam finally meets his son for the first time. How will things go?

A/N : So I’m posting from my mobile because I don’t have a laptop near me and will probably be posting on my phone from now on. So just heads up since I cant put the KEEP READING option via mobile app I’m tagging this under #long post. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes I didn’t have the time to check for edits.

Warning : None... I think..

Catch up with the series HERE

Liam stands outside a Victorian style home in a suburban area somewhere in Los Angeles. He has been standing out there for about ten minutes contemplating whether this was a good idea. His thoughts brought him back to the night before.

Flashback, Cordonia.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Riley asked leaning against the door frame of their bedroom with her arms folded as she watched her husband packed his clothes into a suitcase. “I don’t understand why cant you send Hakim like you always do?”

Liam puts the last of his clothing and zipped his luggage shut before turning to his wife. “ Because they wanted to meet with me personally and nobody else. Besides ...” He began saunter towards Riley placing his hands on her shoulder before he kissed her forehead. “I need you here to look after things while I’m gone, especially since we’re expecting visitors from Auvernal in a few days.”

“If I must, as long as you promise to come back before our interview with the potential surrogates.” Riley gave a forced smile, ever since she mentioned about the whole surrogacy option her husband has been acting a little differently, like there was something he was hiding from her. She was beginning to think he was doubting her ability as his wife.

“I promise to bring you a box of cronuts from your favourite shop in New York.”

“Make that two boxes.” She grinned and tiptoed to kiss him on the lips. Not having a clue about the secret her husband was keeping from her, that he wasn’t goingu to New York for a diplomatic meeting but was traveling to LA instead to meet with the son he never knew he had.

Present day, Somewhere in the suburbs of LA

He didn’t like lying to his wife, but he had to make sure before he said anything. What if this child wasn’t his? Then he would have caused panic for nothing. But what is the child is his? How will Riley feel about raising his child? A child that wasn’t hers but from some other woman that he had been with only once. He certainly wasn’t going to abandon his own son, his own flesh & blood.

“It’s now or never Liam, you can’t stand out here forever.” He murmurs under his breath and takes a step up the front porch then rings the doorbell. The door opens and he is greeted by a woman with black hair and tanned skin, she smiles when she sees him.

“Hello, I’m….”

“Liam, I mean your Majesty. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Come right in, we’ve been expecting you.” She said opening the door and motioning him in before closing the door behind her. As he steps inside a the woman gives him a curious look. “I’m sorry to ask but did you come alone your majesty? I thought you would be coming with your wife?”

“No it’s just me. And please no need for formalities, Liam is fine.” He said and proceeds to walk through the foyer into the living area, his eyes wander across family photos hanging on the wall. “This is a nice place you have.”

“Thank you but it’s not mine, it belonged to Maya. She inherited it during her junior year at college when her parents passed away.” Her emotion suddenly solemn. “I’m sorry to hear about that.” Liam murmurs in a sympathetic tone. “Did she.. Did she have anyone else?”

Leah shakes her head. “She was an only child, didn’t have many relatives that she was close with. After they passed it was just her.. You know until she had Theon.”

His name is Theon? Liam felt his heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name. “She never married, I mean between juggling work as an corporate lawyer and being a single mom she didn’t really have the time. Theon was always her main priority.” Leah said giving Liam a sad smile. “Could you come with me? There is something I need to show you.” Liam nods and follows her into a small study, once again his eyes wanders on the interior of the room, there were a few award plaques mounted on the walls and on the shelves a few thropies.

“Those were mostly hers.” Leah mentions when she notice Liam staring at them and walks over to him. “Her parents kept all of her achievements, they were very proud of her. After that she used this room not just to place her own achievements but Theon’s as well.” She gestures to a few of the medals and throphies on the right corner of the shelf and Liam’s eyes followed. He picks up one of the gold medals in his hand which had the word First Place and Little league scoccer team engraved onto it. A small smile crept onto his lips as he did.

“Anyway this is for you.” She hands him a small velvet box and he politely takes it from her then opens it only to find 2 flash drives inside it, each with a specific label. “Maya had it made a while ago before she...”

Liam sputters. “When did she find out? That she was sick?”

“Last winter. She was ice skating with Theon when she suddenly felt the this pain in her abdomen and couldn’t get up. After she was diagnosed she never gave up even if she knew her chances were slim, she had to fight for him.”

“She sounds like a remarkable woman.” Liam praises with a weak smile, his heart suddenly felt heavy. “I wish.. I wished I could have been there for the both of them.” There were so many questions in his mind, why now? Why didn’t she seek him earlier? How long did she know his true identity? Because to his memory he didn’t tell her who he really was the night they met.

Leah places a comforting hand on Liam’s shoulder. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters. You can use the laptop if you want to see what’s on the flash drive. I’ll be upstairs with Theon if you need me.”

Liam slowly makes his way to the desk and takes a seat. He opens it up on the laptop, sticking the flash drive that was labeled To Liam into the usb port then open it. He sees a bunch of folders with labels such as Theon’s birth, Theon’s first steps, Theon’s 1st birthday and so on. He continues to scroll through till he notices a video saved as Liam. He double clicks to play the video, when it opens it shows Maya sitting in the same study in the exact same chair. She was wearing a white blouse and pearl blue scarf on her head, she looked thinner than he remembered and slightly pale but it was probably from being sick.

“Hey Liam. It’s me, Maya. I don’t know if you remember me but we met six years ago.” She blushes and shakes her head, then adjusts the scarf on her head. “Gosh this is harder than I thought. Anyway if you’re seeing this video it means that I am already dead and you probably already know about my son… Our son.”

“I want to tell you everything that happened, but where do I begin?” She murmured with her eyes downcast while fidgeting with her nails. “First of all I’m sorry for keeping this secret from you for a long time but believe me when I say, I wanted to tell you when I found out. I even went asking around all the modeling agencies in LA if they knew a Liam Devaraux only to get a no for an answer every time. It finally hit me that you must have been using a fake name. I gave up eventually and had Theon months later. I wish you could have seen him when he was born, he was the most beautiful 7 pound baby I had ever laid my eyes on.” She pauses a moment trying to hold back her tears.

“Three years later I finally found out who you really were. I was in the living room watching the news about some American waitress from New York who was about to marry a young King from a Mediterranean country. You can imagine my surprise to find out that Liam Devaraux was actually Liam Rys, King of Cordonia. I knew I should have tried to reach out to you when I found out but I just didn’t want all of this to get in the way of your soon to be happy family.”

“I wish there was another way, that things could have gone differently. Part of me sometimes wondered if I didn’t just leave that day or if I stuck around that day, would we be this actual happy family or something. But as fate has it we were never meant to be.”

“I know that this is a lot but now that I am gone, Theon doesn’t have anyone. You are the only family he has left. There are no excuse that I could say that would make you forgive me for keeping your son from you all these years. But I’m begging you do not punish him for the mistakes that I have made. I did what I thought was best back then and I’m doing this now. Theon deserves to be with his father, he deserves to be with someone who can teach him how to be kind and compassionate. And from what I’ve read about you, I know that you’ll raise him well.”

“Please tell Theon that I’m sorry and that I will always be proud of and him and that I will alway love him with all my heart even when I’m gone... Goodbye.”

Tears fell from Liam’s eyes as he finished watching the video Maya had left him, he leans on the chair with his hands cup to his mouth. How could he not have known? He takes a few minutes left in his thoughts before he finally gathers himself, adjusting the blazer for his jacket then proceeds to head upstairs. This was the moment he has been waiting for since he got the call.

Liam opens the door and see Leah sitting on the floor with a little boy. They both turn to his direction as they hear the door squeak open, Leah give Liam an encouraging smile and he nod grate fully.

She held the little boys hand and gently pulls him up with her, he looks at Liam curiously but not saying a word. “Theon this is Liam.. Liam I’d like you to meet Theon.”

Liam smiled and crouch down so his eyes we’re leveled with Theon’s. Taking in his features, the resemblance to his face when he was a child was just uncanny, of course there were slight differences his hair was a slightly darker blonde and his eyes. His eyes were just like Maya’s the way he remembered, one was blue while the other was half blue and half brown. Nevertheless he knew then and there even without a DNA test that Theon was his, he could feel it in his heart. But he knew he still need to have one done if he wanted to prove Theon’s legitimacy to the council. “Hello Theon, it’s nice to meet you.” He extends his hand, Theon looks at Leah who nods then back to Liam and shakes his hand. “That’s a firm grip you have there son.” Son.. The words just splattered out of Liam’s mouth but it somehow felt so natural.

Theon give him a weak smile. “Are you my father?” Liam felt a little caught off guard by the question for a moment, the word father was a still foreign to him. After all he didn’t know he was one until a day ago. He looks up at Leah then back at the little boy. “I... I believe so.. would that be alright?” He sputters.

Theon gives an approving nod and places one of his hands on Liam’s cheeks. “Mom said I looks my father and you kinda look like me or at least I think you do.”

Liam chuckles. “Well she got that part right. What else did she tell you?”

“She told me that you’re an important man and that your superpower is protecting your country and it’s people.” He pauses for a moment then continues. “Is it true? Do you... Do you have superpowers?”

“I have some sort of power though if it’s super or not that’s up for you decide.”

“Cool.. I guess..”He said with his eyes downcast, fidgeting with the toy in his hands. Liam noticed this and remembered that look it was the same look he had when he lost his mom. It broke his heart to think about what Theon must have been going through, no matter how old the child it is never easy losing a parent. "Theon, if something is bothering you.. you can tell me you know?"

Theon is quite for a while, it was like he wanted to say something but was too afraid to say it. “Maybe I’ll leave you two alone to catch up.” Leah said, Liam nods and she leaves the room.

Liam notice the unfinished blocks of legos Theon was playing with before he came in. “I notice you were building something earlier on.. would you like to show it to me? Maybe the two of us can work on it?” He gives a kind smile, Theon nods and leads Liam to the pile of blocks where they both take a seat on the floor and start assembling.

“So Theon, can you tell me what it is we’re building?”

“It’s a castle and it’s going to be really awesome. Mom got it for me during my birthday we were supposed to work on it together but then she got really sick and we never managed to finish it.” He said in a sad tone, his eyes downcast while his fingers fidget with the piece of lego. Tears began to fall on his cheeks.

Liam’s heartbroke, he could feel and understand the pain his son was going through after all he too lost his mother at a young age. He shifted from from where he was and sits next to Theon wrapping his one arm around him pulling him in for a comforting hug. “Hey buddy, it’s alright to feel sad and cry. You miss your mom and that’s understandable. I lost my mom when I was a kid too.”

Theon tilts his head up looking at Liam, trying to stiffle his cry. “You... you lost your mom too?”

Liam give him a weak nod. “I was a little more older than you but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. I remember who heartbroken I was when she first passed away, I used to sneak into her quarters and lay on her bed just so I could feel her scent and fall asleep.”

“I do that too.. Do you still miss her?”

“Everyday..” He gives a weak smile. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t go on with my life and be happy. My mother would want me to be happy and so yours would too. She loves you very much Theon and she would want you to live your life to the fullest. I know right now you feel like you’re alone in the world but you’re not, you have me and I promise I will never leave you.”

Theon wipes away the tears from his face and sputters. “You.. you promise?”

Liam smiled pulling him into a tight hug. “I promise.”

*************************************************

TRR/TRH - @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @jessiembruno @leelee10898 @rafasgirl23415 @cordonianroyalty @lauradowning29 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @msjr0119 @janezillow @heauxplesslydevoted

[thesoftdumbass]

Yallneedtrek’s Writing Anniversary Challenge

Hi you guys! So, I’ve been wanting to host a writing challenge for a while, and now seems like a good time to do so. November 30th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I started posting my fanfiction, starting out with a whopping 649 words on this Charles Xavier fic. Things have changed since then, I’ve written a lot more and joined a few fandoms since then, made some friends, and all in all enjoyed my time here on tumblr.

So if anybody would like to join my writing challenge, here are some things to remember while entering/posting:

~To enter the writing challenge, you must send me an ASK with a character or ship, and AU, AND a prompt from the lists below. (If you send anonymously or have multiple blogs, make sure that I know which blog you will be posting on)

~All entries are due by November 30th, 2018. There is no cut-off date to enter the challenge, as long as you think you can finish, you can enter whenever. (I will post occasional reminders and tag everybody who signed up!)

~Characters/ships can be used multiple times, as can AUs, but prompts can only be used once.

~If there’s a character/ship not on the list but that belongs in my fandoms, you can message me if you’d like to write for them and get my okay!

~You can use any writing genre: fluff, smut, angst, whatever. I would prefer angst-y fics to end happily, though!

~Important! When posting, please include Warnings, Word Count, and a Summary. Also, add a “Read More” if your fic is over 400 words so we don’t clog up everybody’s dash!

~When posting your fic, tag my blog and use the tag #yallneedtrekwritingchallenge, and send the post to me directly to make sure that I’ve seen it. I will reblog all of the fics and add them all to a masterlist to be shared when all entries are posted!

Have fun writing, lovelies!

Characters and Ships - Choose one:

Star Trek-

Jim Kirk

McKirk

Montgomery “Scotty” Scott

Spock

Pavel Chekov

Wonder Woman-

Steve Trevor

WonderTrev

Avengers-

Steve Rogers

Stucky

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Loki Odinson

Thor Odinson

Urban boys-

Leonard “Bones” McCoy

Gavin Magary

Siberius Vaako

Black Hat

Eomer

John Kennex

Any Karl Urban character, really

Other-

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lance Tucker

Carter Baizen

Wynonna Earp

Doc Holliday

AU’s - Choose one:

Soulmate

Firefighter

Royal

Fake dating / fake married

Supernatural (any supernatural creature/phenomenon)

Neighbors

University / Fellow Professors

Artist

Flower Shop

Vikings

Called / texted the wrong number

Body Swap

Bartender

Motorcycle Club

Roadtrip

Book Shop / Library

Office

Coffee Shop

Arranged Marriage

Roommate

Writing Prompts - Choose one:

1. “But I’m not wearing pants”

2. “Why were you in a dumpster?”

3. “Just give me the ____ and nobody gets hurt”

4. “Lick me all you want, I’m not moving my hand”

5. “I did not kidnap you! I anything, I adult-snatched you.”

6. “Didn’t you ever stop and think that there’s a reason I’m here?”

7. “Next time you come in my room to scare me, try picking a better hiding spot than behind the curtains.”

8. “What do you suggest we do?”

9. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you turn down food.”

10. “Are those my underwear?”

11. “Will you just stop talking?” “Make me.”

12. “Did you just make a joke?”

13. “And you say I’m the dramatic one”

14. “Don’t get your hopes up”

15. “Subtlety is not your strong suit”

16. “My mind does not immediately jump to murder. Oh who am I kidding, of course it does!”

17. “Do you smell something burning?”

18. “No you are not Batman, stop saying that!”

19. “If you don’t stop talking in song quotes, I swear I will end you”

20. “Who ever said that I hate you?”

21. “Who thought it was a good idea to give (him/her/them) coffee?”

22. “What is that incessant beeping?”

23. “Here, take my jacket”

24. “Say hello to your cat for me”

25. “Who are you talking to?”

26. “Stay, please”

27. “Are you dead?” “Yes.”

28. “Next time you need help, don’t come to me”

29. “Can anybody tell me why my house is on fire?!”

30. “Are you crying?” “No! Shut up.”

31. “Stop screaming, it’s just me.”

32. “Jealous is not a good look on you”

33. “Is my leg supposed to bend that way?”

34. “I would rather be stuck on a deserted island with literally anybody but you”

35. “If you get ‘Let it Go’ stuck in my head one more time, I will never speak to you again.”

36. “I am too tired to deal with your happy disposition today”

37. “That line was so cheesy, it hurts.”

38. “Can you not be sarcastic just for once?”

39. “I told you this was a bad idea”

40. “Do not throw up on me”

41. “I’m just gonna keep talking until you smile”

42. “If you’re trying to seduce me, I would reconsider.”

43. “Can I kiss you?”

44. “I must be going crazy”

45. “Do I spy a tattoo?”

46. “Am I turning into a vampire?”

47. “No, you cannot borrow my laptop! You remember what happened the last time.”

48. “Just hug me before I put someone’s head through a wall.”

49. “If you can’t tell, I am very angry.”

50. “Are those little unicorns on your boxers?”

51. “You dropped something”

52. “You must be new here”

53. “Can we watch movies and cuddle?”

54. “I love you, I hope you know that.”

55. “I need you to stop laughing and come help me”

56. “Next time, I pick the music.”

57. “Can I kill (them)?”

58. “If you can go one hour without talking, I will kiss you”

59. “Stop saying that”

60. “You’re ridiculous”

61. “I’d hate to ruin such a sweet moment, but we have to go.”

62. “Oh, I almost forgot you were here”

63. “Is it true what they say?”

64. “Is that what I think it is?”

65. “You’ve got no sense of self-preservation”

66. “You’re worrying me”

67. “Get away from me”

68. “Don’t say that”

69. “Sometimes I wish I never met you”

70. “Can you stop poking me?”

71. “Don’t tell me to calm down, you’re covered in blood!”

72. “Will you tell me a story?”

73. “There might be a small…large…dent in your car, but please don’t kill me, I can explain!”

74. “I just want to drink chocolate milk and take a nap.” “You are a grown adult.”

75. “Are you drunk?”

76. “It looks like there was a train wreck in here”

77. “You lost the bet, you know what that means”

78. “I shouldn’t be here.” “Then why are you?”

79. “I’m not going with you dressed like that”

80. “Who else is going to save you from yourself?”

81. “What kind of name is that?”

82. “That is a lot of- what even is that?”

83. “That doesn’t look like fun, it looks like a death trap”

84. “So this is what betrayal looks like”

85. “Who started the food fight?”

86. “What, my poetry isn’t good enough for you?” “You just recited Dr. Seuss.”

87. “I’ve been shot!” “Relax, it’s just a nerf bullet.”

88. “You’re trying too hard, you need to just relax.”

89. “You look like the poster-child for bad decisions”

90. “Could you be any more oblivious?”

91. “Shut your whore mouth”

92. “Say that to my face, you soggy piece of pizza”

93. “You are such a moldy shower curtain”

I really hope you guys have fun writing, and I’m looking forward to reading all of your amazing fics! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or send an ask. Love you all!

I’m adding everyone on my tag list and Urban Shitposting group just in case you want to join or signal boost!

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718 @feelmyroarrrr @bookcaseninja @musikat18 @kickingitwithkirk @auduna-druitt @garnet-redtailedhero @bubblegum-star-trek @reading-in-moonlight @cuddlememerrick @loststarlight @fireboltrose7559 @lauuerodz @bkwrm523 @fearofdeathkeepsusalive @goingknowherewastaken @annathewitch @outside-the-government @queenmismatched  @thefanficfaerie

[ditzydesu]

Wizards and Warlocks

A commission for my friend @swordhandjpg whos a mess and has bad taste <3  Commissions are OPEN and all the info is HERE

Getting a degree is the last thing on Owain’s mind. There are maidens to save from dragons, and corrupt rulers that needed toppling from their kingdoms. And yet, one phone call from his mother sends him to the library with only a quick ‘sorry’ text sent to his dungeons and dragons group.

He has an essay due at the end of the week, and he’s certain that he won’t be the only one of his classmates spending long hours in the library in the next few days. At least once he gets started, the actual writing of the essay won’t take him that long.

With a stack of books in his arms, he wanders the aisles of the library, looking for somewhere to sit. With finals soon and deadlines abound, most seats are taken by students sweating over getting their work done in time for a good grade. Eventually though, he finds a seat, cramped in between two people he vaguely recognises from around campus.

People come and go as he reads and makes notes, the library slowly emptying as night draws further in. It may be open twenty four hours at this time of year, but most students still value getting some sleep than doing work, knowing that they’ll still have time come morning. When he glances at his phone and sees it’s 2am, he reckons that it’s probably time to pack it up- he’s done enough work that if he’s lucky, he can fire through the essay tomorrow and meet up in time for the weekend’s dungeons and dragons session.

When Owain moves to get up, though, he quickly discovers his legs are dead (a curse of sitting still for so long). So while he waits to regain the feeling in his legs, he pulls out his laptop and works on the story for the next D&D game that it’s his turn to be dungeon master for. He’s halfway through when his light is blocked, and he looks up to see a girl standing over him.

“Are you still using these books?”

“N-no.”

“I’ll put them away for you then,” she offers, with a smile on her face as she scoops up an armful of books. Owain’s eyes flash to the badge that’s stuck on her shirt- Robin Grima MA, Library Assistant.

She disappears then, and he watches her go through the aisles like some sort of library ghost, the florescent lighting of the library casting her white hair in its eerie glow.

And Owain finds himself in the library the next day, finishing off his essay and submitting it. It’s quieter today- with only two days left this semester, he has to assume that most people have got their work done now. The library assistant is there again, flitting about the shelves and sharing laughs with some of the other students. While waiting for the confirmation email from his tutor, Owain pulls out sheets from last weekend’s D&D and goes over what was going on.

“Is that a dungeons and dragons sheet?” A voice comes from behind him, and he whips round to see Robin, as he remembers, peering over his shoulder.

“Y-yeah. I play at the weekends with my friends from the campus across town.”

“Huh,” Robin says, taking a seat beside Owain, her eyes focussed on the page. “Don’t suppose you’re looking for another player? I’ve been looking for a new group for a while.”

“You play?” Owain asks incredulously, his interested piqued in this girl. Sure, she was pretty, but he was a little intimidated by her. But finding D&D in common... now that was something he could get behind.

“Well, not anymore. It was popular in my home country, but when I moved here to do my Masters, I had to leave that group behind. And since I live here now, I was thinking about looking for a new group. And you’ve landed right in my lap.”

“I can ask if they’re willing to let you join. We are in the middle of the campaign.”

“Do you think they’d still be awake to ask them now?” Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Owain can’t help but fall into line with her plan.

“Leo definitely will be. I’m not sure he ever sleeps.” He lifts his phone and sends a hasty text, trying to ensure that his hands aren’t shaking as he does so. Leo responds within instants- and Owain turns to Robin with a smile. “He says okay, as long as you can fit your character into the plot.”

“Can I borrow these sheets, then? I can photocopy them now and bring them back to you.”

“Of course!”

She snatches the sheets from the desk and then she’s gone in a flash. Owain stares at his hands, in awe of how smoothly he’s managed this situation so far. He just has to hope that when they actually get to playing she’s not entirely put off by his more... outgoing persona.

“What’s your name?” She asks when she returns. “I’m Robin.”

“Owain.”

“Lovely to meet you, Owain.” Her eyes crinkle with a smile, and Owain can feel his chest constrict- gods, he has it bad for her already.

“I-if you want, we can get the bus together over to Leo’s house. That’s where we play- he lives with his family in his big house just outside town-“

“Oh, I know the one! I can drive us. It’ll cost you nothing,” Robin says with a wink. “What time at?”

“We usually play from four, so three thirty?”

“I’ll meet you at the front here then. I’d better get back to work, but...” she takes a pencil out of her hair and scribbles on Owain’s papers. “There’s my number if you need it. Nice to meet you again!”

As promised, Robin is waiting for Owain outside the library at exactly three thirty. Her car is old and beat up, but the inside smells like fresh laundry as he slides into the passenger seat. She grins at him before driving off towards the outskirts of town.

The radio is crackly but plays the top forty as they travel. Owain catches her humming along sometimes- off key, but he’s captivated nonetheless. He points out directions to her, trying to keep his voice steady. When they arrive at Leo’s house, and she spends a few moments admiring the building itself before Owain ends up having to drag her inside through a side entrance.

“You’re early,” Leo quips, putting down his book. The table is already set up, and Robin has to assume that this is the Dungeon master for this session.

“Robin drove me. No missing the bus this time.”

“So you’re Robin?” Leo says, raising an eyebrow. “When Owain said he was bringing a friend, this is not what I expected. But of course, you are more than welcome.”

“Thank you. I hear you’re studying history? That’s what my degree was in. Specifically old battles. That’s what interests me.”

“Ah, my study is more on ancient civilisation. But it’s nice to meet someone with a similar interest to me. Gods know these two are not on the same academic wavelength that I am.”

“Sorry, these two?”

“Ah, you’re yet to meet Niles. He’ll be here soon, I’d imagine. Tea, Robin? Coffee?”

“Ah, coffee, thanks.”

“And I already know your order, Owain.”

Leo disappears up the stairs at the back of the room, and Robin takes the opportunity to peer at the setup on the board. There are cut out player characters, cardboard with blu-tack on the bottom to hold them in place. There are only two- what looks like a bard and a warlock. Her old character from back home was a cleric (her friend’s idea, not hers) but the character she hurriedly drew up last night will be the wizard of this party. Sure, it might leave them rather unbalanced, but she doesn’t care too much. It’s for fun- she doubts any of them take this too seriously.

“Hello?” A new voice comes, and in walks who Robin has to assume is Niles. He takes a seat and crosses his legs and smiles as her, and Robin can immediately tell that he is the one that plays the bard and that Owain is the warlock. And going off the little she knows about him, she thinks that suits him well. “When I was told Owain was bringing a friend, I never imagined it’d be a girl,” Niles laughs. “Good for him.”

“N-N-Niles!” Owain stutters. “She asked me if she could play, it has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s true,” Robin speaks up, defending Owain. “I’ve been looking for a new group for a while.”

“Well, good for you. We’ll see what you think of us when you meet Odin Dark and his chosen accomplices.”

“I assume that Odin Dark is your character? And you’re the Warlock?”

“That would be correct,” Owain says, sounding a little put down.

“Do the voice,” Niles hisses as Leo reappears with a tray of drinks and snacks.

“I will do no such thing!”

“See, his speech patterns have changed already,” Leo points out as he takes his seat, notes in hand. “And you need to do the voice, or we won’t let you take your turn. Robin, what character are you playing? I’ll cut out the figure while you read over this,” he says, handing a sheet over to her.

“I’m playing wizard,” she says, and Leo sighs.

“Must all three of you play magic users? You’re just making this all hard for yourselves.”

“Oh Leo, you know we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Niles drawls.

“Sh-shut it, you. Anyway, if you’re all ready to begin...”

Twelve cups of coffee and two takeaway pizzas later, the session ends, and Robin feels confident that she’s beginning to understand the concept that Leo has based this story on. She may have started as a wizard, but the back-story she created and the situation that Leo put her introduction in are so much more interesting than she originally bargained for, and she finds herself grinning as she bids goodnight to Niles and Leo. They seem like good friends to Owain, who she has to admit she has a soft spot for already.

“Where do you want me to drop you off?” Robin asks.

“Uh... in front of the library again?”

“Works for me.”

They drive along in silence, Robin sneaking glances Owain’s way when they’re stopped in traffic. He’s twiddling his thumbs, and staring out the window. There’s something different about him- this isn’t the Owain she met in the library, nor is it the famous warlock Odin Dark that he plays in dungeons and dragons.

“Is something the matter, Owain?” She asks softly. “You’ve been very quiet the whole way home.”

“I’m just a little... embarrassed.”

“About what?”

“Well, you knew me before D&D. And now you’ve seen Odin Dark, who is me, but also... not me.”

“I think he’s cool,” Robin shrugs, not taking her eyes off the road. “And I think you’re cool too. You don’t need to be one of those two people. You can be both.”

“You think I’m cool?” Owain says, finally turning from the window to look at Robin. She flashes a smile at him.

“Yeah! And you’re studying English, right? So storytelling is in your bones. That’s probably why you have this elaborate other persona, a character that you’ve invented for a specific purpose.”

“You’re too kind to me, Robin. Our party does not deserve such a wizard like Clover Severiestus! She is, after all, the strongest of her kind.”

“Well, I’m sure she thinks that Odin Dark is pretty cool, too.”

“The chosen one thanks you for relaying such a message.”

Robin pulls into the library car park, and turns to look at Owain properly. He’s like some sort of puppy, she thinks, excitable and expectant and... cute. And gods, she’s a little bit older than him, but he’s the most genuine man she’s ever met, so she leans over and kisses him on the cheek, and laughs as his face grows red.

“See you on Tuesday?” She asks. And to make things worse, he takes her hand and places a kiss on the back of it.

“Fare thee well, sweet maiden.”

“Until we meet again, Sir Dark!”

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 34

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕

If anyone else would like a tag, shoot me a dm 😁

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Jumping up off your sofa and peeking through the spyhole in your door when three heavy bangs came from next door, you gingerly poked your head out into the hallway, and coughed loudly to get the delivery boys attention.

"They're on holiday. I'll sign for it."

Gist had sent the package with excellent timing after you had told him that the old couple next to you had gone away; letting him send you something without it getting trailed back to you. Signing for the expected package quickly and slamming the door shut in the poor delivery boys face, you ripped open the cardboard packet, and tipped its contents out on your counter eagerly.

Carefully picking up the disk; dismissing the thick bind of papers for the moment, you put it in your laptop and grabbed your headphones, drumming your fingers impatiently while you waited for it to load up. A whole month you had been waiting for this. Weeks of sneaking around, late nights and chasing numerous dead ends, but hopefully Gist had helped you find the proof you needed. Picking up the translation transcripts that Shay had done for you when several male Russian voices blared in your ear, you flicked through them quickly, almost dropping them when the person you were looking for appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Daniel. My my, you have been a naughty boy," You chuckled with a wry grin. "Sorry to throw you under the bus like this, but it's either you or me."

You knew there was something, off, about Daniel Cross as soon as you had met him in Russia on your last assignment. He had seemed, cagey, and your spidey sense was going mental every time he visited the new bureau, plus there were the little telltale signs that you used to do when you first started working with the Templars. Dismissing his withdrawal jitters as he was going through rehab for his drug problem, he always had a habit of disappearing whenever Shaun had made a new breakthrough in the security programmes, or had managed to locate a consignment that would stop the Templars from funding their work. Then there was the barrage of questions that seemed innocent at the time; such as when more people were coming over or how well you got on with the Russian assassins, but thinking about it afterwards, there was no reason for it, unless he was up to something. If you hadn't have been doing the same thing, you would never have noticed, but unfortunately for Mr Cross, his luck was about to run out.

Having the perfect scapegoat within your grasp; plus a plan B under your belt in case this didn't work, a wicked grin crept up your face as you came across the translation of what he had just said to a man who was hiding exceptionally well in the shadows.

"Bratstvo ne znayet. Now take me to Vidic."

Jackpot.

Reaching over and grabbing your phone, you keyed in Gists voicemail number that you had committed to memory before your old phone had been taken off you, and hummed softly to yourself while you waited for it to kick in, clearing your throat when it beeped so you didn't sound as excited as you felt at the moment.

"You wonderful men. Thank you ever so much, it's exactly what I wanted. Hopefully, I'll see you soon."

Downloading the video off of the disk and sending it to Altaïr through a dummy (and fingers crossed) untraceable email address, all that you could do now, was wait.

In attempts to keep yourself occupied for however long it would take, you had given your apartment a much needed clean; as you could have made a sculpture out of all the dust that had accumulated, and now had your music turned up full blast while you attempted to catch up on your mountain of overdue paperwork. You were so engrossed in writing up all of the mundane tasks that you had done over the past few weeks, that you didn't notice that your phone was ringing until it nearly vibrated off the table.

Catching it in the nick of time and grabbing the remote so you could turn the music down, you answered the call as nonchalantly as you could when you saw that it was Desmond ringing you.

"Hey, what's up? If you're calling to send me out on another bodyguard errand, forget it."

"(Name)! You're not gonna believe it! I can't believe it! I dunno how, or what happened, but, but, it's great!"

"Woah Woah, Desmond, calm down. What's great? You finally beat Altaïr in a fight or something?" You snickered, knowing full well what he was babbling on about, but decided to entertain him anyway.

"No, it's better than that! You're in the clear! You all are! They found the traitor!"

Sitting back with a beaming smile as he carried on enthusing about how brilliant this news was, you looked at your phone when it beeped in your ear in between Desmond's ramblings, just resisting the urge to burst out laughing when it was a message from Jacob saying he was, 'Freeeeeeeeeeee!!!!'

"(Name), (name), you still there? Aren't you happy?"

"Course I am! Was just waiting for you to take a breath. So who betrayed us then?"

"Oh. Sorry." he chuckled sheepishly. "Dunno who it is, the boss wouldn't tell me. He said he's gonna have to investigate into it more, but you're definitely out of the weeds."

"Thank god for that. Thanks for letting me know, we still on for the gym Sunday?"

"Course, wouldn't miss the opportunity to get my revenge! See you then."

Taking a massive sigh of relief as you hung up and dropped your phone back on the table, you clambered up when your stomach started growling and plodded over to the kitchen, rummaging through your cupboards before settling on a share size bag of chips to munch on while you worked. No sooner had you sat back down your phone buzzed with another message, but figuring it was Jacob yet again you just ignored it, determined to get caught up on your work once and for all.

"Right, where was I... Time log...Time log..." You grumbled to yourself, trying to remember the exact millisecond you had threatened William Johnson's secretary in Starbucks.

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth when your phone went off yet again, you snatched it up with every intention of replying with a lengthy abusive message but instead scrunched up your brow when the texts were from an unknown number. That was soon replaced with a sly smile though when the first message said 'Coffee?' looking around furiously when the second said 'Put down the Doritos and let me in X.'

You about jumped out of your skin when a soft rapping suddenly came from your window, more than slightly bewildered when you opened it and let Shay climb in from the fire escape, all dressed up and carrying a couple of expensive looking bags.

"What you got there Romeo? You didn't need to climb all the way up here, I'm off the hook." You grinned as he planted a kiss on your cheek and scanned your apartment.

"Aye, I know that, the chatters gone crazy. Your entourage are still downstairs, so didn't wanna raise any suspicion just yet. Nice, place you've got here."

Rolling your eyes when you could tell he was being sarcastic, you peeked into one of the bags when he dropped them on the table; pushing them towards you and gesturing for you to take them, but you couldn't see anything apart from tissue paper.

"They're for you love. Go an get changed; we're going out."

"Where?"

Holding the bags to your chest when he picked them back up and handed them to you, then gently guided you to what he assumed was your bedroom, you raised your eyebrow when he just chuckled and ushered you inside, pulling the door to with an alluring wink.

Slightly stunned as you finished doing up your shoes and smoothed out your dress, you adjusted your pathetic excuse for a mirror so you could see most of yourself, and deemed you looked pretty damned good considering you had only spent fifteen minutes getting ready. The dress fit you perfectly, a simple black thing with spaghetti straps and came down to your ankle on one side, with a lace panel running down the other that stopped just above your knee; which meant you had to forego knickers to wear it. Cheeky bugger, you sniggered to yourself as you reemerged from your room.

Barely suppressing your smirk when Shay gave out a low whistle as you struck a pose for him, you stuffed your phone and keys into your bag that you had fished out before taking his hand and clambering back out of the fire escape.

"You going to tell me where we're going yet?" You asked again as you walked through the back streets behind your apartment.

"Always need to know don't ya? C'mon, in ya get."

Your eyes widened when he opened the door to an Audi r8 that was parked a couple of streets away, recognising it immediately from the garage at Templar headquarters as you slid into the front seat.

"Take it you've made up with Haytham then?"

"Yeah. We've had our falling outs before. Nothing as bad as this time mind, but life's too short to hold a grudge like that. Was gonna borrow the Rolls, thought that might've drawn a bit too much attention though."

Thinking he made a good choice as you definitely didn't want to be in that particular car again, you let out a little chuckle and spent the short drive in silence, trying to figure out where the hell you were going by the route he took. You had completely given up by the time he'd parked down some dank alleyway and took your hand to lead you through a side door, taking you through a very busy, and delicious smelling kitchen. A couple of the chefs looked up as you went past, but none seemed fazed in the slightest that you were there; making you slightly on edge that they would be used to people coming in through the back.

Your mouth formed a small 'o when you were finally taken to a small private room upstairs, and you could see out of the patio doors onto the balcony, now knowing that you were in the L'Espalier restaurant right next to Shays hotel.

"What's the occasion?" You asked, barely above a whisper as you took your seat at the candlelit table for two when the waiter pulled the chair out for you.

"Realised that we've never actually been on a date, figured today would be the perfect time to change that." He said simply, but by the look on his face, you could tell that there was something that he wasn't letting on.

"Hmm, I figured you for more of a bowling kind of guy."

Grinning when he just rolled his eyes and chuckled, you opened the menu and pouted when you couldn't read a word of it, promptly snapping it shut much to Shays apparent amusement.

"Ya don't need to worry lass, the owner here's a friend of mine, and it's Templar run. No eyes on us here."

It was only then you realised that you had been looking about and over your shoulder, making a mental note of possible exits and hiding places in the room, smiling sheepishly as you sat back and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Even though you had never been to a restaurant this fancy before you were aware of the etiquette, (letting Shay order for you thank god) and using the obscene amount of cutlery from the outside in and so forth, surprisingly enjoying being spoilt like this. Catching up and filling each other on everything that you had missed over the past few weeks after not being able to see each other; nearly spitting your wine across the table when Shay told you that Christopher had managed to electrocute himself mildly the other day, you eventually stopped giggling when your food turned up, which was nothing short of heaven on a plate.

Delicately crafted hors d'oeuvres, followed by a beautiful soufflé that was so light felt like you were eating clouds, delectable meats, vegetables and fruits, every bite so delicious that you wished you had room to eat it all again. You couldn't remember a time when you felt so, content if that was the right word for it. Talking and laughing until your ribs hurt, wined and dined like a queen, and tonight, you weren't an Assassin, nor a Templar spy, just an ordinary girl out on a date with her partner.

Your initial instincts that there was more than one reason for going out tonight were confirmed when the waiter poured two glasses of champagne before retreating to the shadows, narrowing your eyes playfully when Shay took your hand and led you out to the balcony.

"When are we gonna get the chance to do something like this again? Might as well make the most of it, love."

"True. Tonight has been amazing. Thank you," you breathed, placing your glass down on the small table and leaning on the rail as you took in the view.

You never realised Boston could be so serene. Usually, you were too busy running around to notice things like this, and from up here it almost seemed picturesque, not on the verge of becoming a battleground. You closed your eyes as Shay wrapped his arm around your waist and nuzzled into your neck, softly sighing when he placed a soft kiss just below your ear and squeezed you gently.

"(Name)?"

"Hmm?"

Flickering your eyes open when you felt his other arm curl around your front, your heart jumped when you saw a thin silver chain woven around his fingers, a beautiful rectangular pendant dropping in front of you when he opened his palm.

"Happy birthday."

Now you knew why he had gone to so much trouble tonight, you hadn't even noticed the date even though you had spent most of the day writing it down. Swallowing hard as you timidly took the pendant in your fingers, you brushed your thumb over the intricate lines on the front, turning it over to reveal an engraved phrase that was in a different language on the back. Your stomach was doing somersaults as he carefully fastened it around your neck and spun you around so he could admire you wearing it, before cupping your face with both hands and kissing you deeply.

"What does it say?" You whispered when he pulled back slightly, your face breaking into a broad smile that a Cheshire cat would have been jealous of.

"That side is Ogham, the first written language in Ireland. This side..." He paused for a moment as he turned the necklace over and ran the tip of his finger over the words. "Is Gaelic. It means..."

You both let out an exasperated groan when he was cut off by your phone ringing loudly from your bag, mentally chiding yourself over and over for not putting it on silent while you were out tonight. Just when you thought whoever was calling had finally rung off, it started up again immediately afterwards, Shays phone joining in a split second later from his jacket pocket.

"Both of us?! We better see who it is love."

Cursing under your breath as you fished your mobile out of your bag, your brow furrowed when you saw it was Altaïr calling, only just resisting the urge not to snap when you finally answered. Cocking your head when Shay mouthed that it was Haytham calling him and he responded to his phone, you both just stared at each other wide-eyed as you each listened to the frantic babblings, blurting out 'On my way' and hanging up at the same time.

"The warehouse?!"

"Aye. This isn't good. You still have some stuff at the hotel, are you sure you're up for this?"

Giving him a determined nod and grabbing your bag, you took a deep breath before almost sprinting down the stairs and towards the Mandarin; thankful that it was only about a minute away, hoping that Altaïr was exaggerating and that you weren't about to join in a full-blown war.

[faejilly]

i am for you

this is entirely @janoda‘s fault. her and her tag essays. ANYWAYS. I have a weakness for epistolary fic, and also Alec & Magnus being adorkable, so here. Have some self-indulgent fluff. Part 1/? (AO3) (series tag)

One misdirected email leads to bonding over bookstores & bad fiction, sleep-deprivation, the introduction of the Lightwood-Garroway Family Hedge, and Magnus and Alec falling in love.

From: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: ra.fe07@uia.edu [R. Fell] subj: forgive me

Hello, you old stick in the mud.

Yes that is a perfectly acceptable way to open a letter, do shush.

And yes, email counts as a letter, just because you study ancient dead people more than living ones does not mean you should not admit to the existence of modern innovation.

Also yes, obviously, I have bad news, you know me so well, however have we borne each other's company for so long?

Especially when you have such an appalling lack of sense as to allow me to borrow your copy of Marlowe's treatise on the White Book.

Oops?

It will not be wending its way back to you along with the references on the Grey and the Red. I know, it's not the same when it's not a whole set, I will make it up to you.

Somehow.

I promise.

And you know I keep my word.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: this is awkward

I want to apologize. I'm not whoever it was you were trying to write to, but there are way too many people I know who would start an email with a "forgive me" so I was about half-way through before I realized you weren't actually one of them.

So, uh. Sorry? I mean. Sorry, really, and you should probably double check your friend's email.

But. Not to be too creepy or intrusive, barging in on someone's accidentally public conversation, but I know a bookstore on Isaacs Dr, behind the campus liquor store, (the one with the red roof, not the one with the blue roof), that had a copy of the book you mentioned. If you wanted to find a replacement. It's called Fray & Garroway, and if you tell them it's for Alec they'll give you a 10% discount.

Assuming you're even in Alicante, which may be a bit of a jump, but you did send your note via a UIA email address.

From: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: Charming, not awkward

I feel, my darling Alec, (if I may?), that it must have been Providence that sent my email astray. Do you believe in fate? I think I do, as of today.

There cannot be many people in Alicante who have even heard of Marlowe's delightfully obscure infatuation with the occult, much less know where to find a copy of a reprint of one of his books. Or be familiar enough to know a discount on that price-tag is not a trivial thing.

Not that I wouldn't have paid full price to redeem myself in my long-suffering (as he says) compatriot's eyes, but it is rather delightful to know that I did not have to, purely thanks to the kindness of a stranger.

Thank you.

You didn't have to reply at all, much less go out of your way to offer assistance. It's unusual to bump into such a giving soul these days. You have quite restored my faith in humanity.

-- M

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: you do have a way with words, don't you

M, is it? Are we embarking on a mystery correspondence? I feel I may have fallen into a bad spy movie, or perhaps a pulp detective novel. (I am certainly no 007 to have fallen into a good spy movie, after all.)

Do you have contacts scattered across Idris running secret errands for you? Clandestine meetings and secret back-alley exchanges?

(Please don't tell me if you don't, imagining a secret society dealing in strange matters of the occult is the most interesting thing to have happened to me all week, and the only interesting thing in at least a month that wasn't bordering on a disaster, and is quite probably the only thing that's going to keep me awake for the next two hours of my shift.)

You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me. I just answered an email. Definitely not worth the weight of the entire human race settling in-between us.

From: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: but your words were so much more interesting than mine

There are a myriad number of people whose job it is to reply to my emails and yet they never manage it. You are exceptional, and I refuse to let you avoid my gratitude. I am thanking you, and you are just going to have to accept that that is the state of things.

Also I may have laughed out loud and scared my best friend when I read your email, so now you have to keep responding so I can prove you're a real person and we're having a real conversation and she doesn't think I'm crazy.

Well. Crazier than usual.

You are a real person aren't you? Who likes spy movies and old pulp paperbacks? (Can you recommend some of those detective stories?  I really loved your bookstore, it was very welcoming. Sunlit and dusty and well-organized shelves but piles in the corners just waiting to be explored and the most gorgeous tiny pieces of artwork hiding in all the small bits of wall where shelves wouldn't fit. Quite my new favorite place, I think I shall be back, especially if I have a shopping list as an excuse?)

Don't answer that real person question, I don't want to know if it's a no, anymore than you want to know that there are no covert societies, encoded messages, or secret passages anywhere in my life.

Though wait, of course you must be real, that lovely young redhead at the bookstore was positively delighted at the idea that Alec sent me, her whole face lit up with a smile.

Are you sure you're not already living the life of a secret agent? I feel I may have unwittingly been involved in some of your clandestine courier work already.

Though I suppose secret agents do not generally have shift work.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: not nearly as interesting as you are attach: ruleswip.docx attach: pulpfiction.docx

Oh hell, Clary was working? Were there charcoal stains on her fingers and a sketchbook on the counter? Was it an evil smile?

It was, wasn't it. I'm doomed, I'm going to have to avoid family dinner for at least a month.

I could distract her with your compliments, perhaps? Most of the artwork is hers. Some of it was her mother's. Either way she actually almost looks shy whenever someone says something nice about it.

Or I could ask her all about you.

I feel like that would be uncalled for, but I'm not sure why. Are we playing a game? Are there rules? Would that be cheating?

Unless you asked her about me, in which case it would be entirely fair, and also that was definitely an evil smile and oh my gosh I'm rambling in an email. I'm typing myself rambling, clearly the sleep-deprivation has reached epic proportions, I am so sorry.

And yet I'm going to send this as is, because I think perhaps that might be one of the rules.

Maybe I should make a list? Would that be weird? This entire email is weird, have I apologized already?

See attached: two lists. Feel free to delete them. Or edit and send them back. I feel I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, I may need some direction.

That's wow. I'm kind of pushy tonight, sorry.

This is what happens when you work second shift at the student support center. Which is usually about as difficult as did you try turning your laptop off and on again and let me unjam the printer with the occasional yes I do know how to format a bibliography, that's why I'm here. I am definitely as far from a secret agent man as it is humanly possible to be, and my brain has mostly leaked out my ears from boredom by the time I'm done.

(That was an attractive description, wasn't it. I'm sorry.)

But second shift was quiet enough when I was an undergrad I could manage to do extra studying, and now they're stuck with me, I guess. Or I'm stuck with them? I'm not entirely sure anymore. At least this is the last year.

But now I'm wondering, if you're not part of some secret coven of the occult, why The Book of the White?

Which is assuredly none of my business, feel free to ignore me.

If you've made it this far and still respond, I think I might start believing in miracles.

From: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: still with the incredibly charming  attach: ruleswip2.docx attach: pulpscripts.docx

I don't believe anyone has ever compared me to a miracle before, I am quite over-wrought.

That sentence came out even more melodramatically than I intended, but that does not mean it isn't sincere. We haven't met, but I find I am quite pleased to think I have earned your good opinion, and your curiosity.

I have indeed taken a look at your rules, and marked it up with my virtual purple pen. (Not red, because it did not need correction so much as expansion. You have a very economical way with words once you switch to informational.) Also I counter your collection of ridiculously titled fiction (all of which I am looking forward to devouring) with some ridiculously styled plays. We did start this with Marlowe, after all.

I feel like it will be a great disappointment to tell you that I am doing regular boring class-related research; I do not think that crosses the bonds of this strange pseudo-anonymity we have, as you recognized the UIA email address, and thus know what an 05 extension means. (Though I still have no idea how my first email got routed to you. I am distressingly good at clicking the wrong thing, but that is a bit dramatic even for me. The servers must have had an aneurysm or something, the original recipient's an 08, on top of the entirely different set of initials.)

And no, I did not ask the redhead anything about you, I was oddly terrified that somehow she'd learn my entire life-story in the process. There was a very steely glint in her eyes when she rung me up.

But family dinner! I am entirely intrigued. Are you also a redhead, my mysterious benefactor? Cousin, brother, uncle?

I typed boyfriend in that list and erased it and typed it about three more times and then I looked up at our rules and realized you're right. I'm not sure if we've reached a coherent set of directions yet, but I don't wish to cheat either. I typed it, it stays.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: I may start blushing at any moment attach: ruleswip3.docx attach: bmovietime.docx

Oh fuck no, definitely not her boyfriend, I am very gay and also she's kind of my sister?

And wow, that's a way to come out to one's secret pen pal. I really have to stop responding to your emails at 2 in the morning, I am always vaguely horrified when I remember what I said the next day, and this is clearly not going to be the exception.

Though, since you keep responding anyways, clearly I should only respond at 2 in the morning? I may have to consider that one.

And no again, I am not a redhead, and the family dinner is a little complicated, (see the kind-of above) but I suppose I would be her step-brother once removed? That sounds entirely implausible doesn't it, it's quite obvious I just made that up.

Her step-dad married my mom.

That was much less complicated than I thought it was going to be, hmm. Clearly I have been over-thinking the family history every other time someone asked. Perhaps it's a lifetime of being over-sensitive. One of my brothers is adopted and we got a lot of oh dear you look nothing alike comments when we were little.

But now I realize how very one-sided our conversation has become, you know my name and that I have a family hedge rather than a tree, that you can find some of us at a bookstore, and that I have a rainbow flag sitting in the cup of pens and highlighters on my desk.

Also that I am much more familiar with b-movies than b-plays, so I feel I must switch media in our disaster lists of duelling recommendations yet again. I did manage to find that set by Bernhardt to read, however, and they were joyfully terrible, I hope someday I can see them on stage.

My sister is staring at me in shock from across town, I always rolled my eyes when she was in her musical theatre stage in middle school. (Different sister, not the redhead.)

Then again I rolled my eyes at everything at that point, it's difficult being nice when you're so far in the closet you can't even see the door. And look at me, over-sharing again. I don't.

This isn't something I do? But since that email you sent back thanking me, I have felt like I've known you forever, and can tell you anything. Is it because I don't have a face to put to the words, so I'm not worrying about what I look like to you? Is it just that such sincere and honest gratitude isn't something I've really seen before? Maybe you don't think people can just help just because, but I'm not sure I've ever seen someone just say thank you without a single caveat. You answered me with such grace, it made my heart ache.

I don't know. And here I am getting all philosophical, the joys of 2am confessions. I can't say I'm sorry though, because that wouldn't be true.

But I know next to nothing about you. And you did just compliment my curiosity, it's in the email chain, I could copy-paste it and prove my point, if I had to. (Never leave a paper trail if you don't want it to be used against you.)

Though I can make an educated guess, at the very least, that your long-suffering compatriot is Professor Fell? I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier, I knew he had a bunch of Marlowe in his collection. And his old email got routed to mine over the summer when I did a work-study with him and he didn't want to deal with any more of Dean Aldertree's questions.

Everyone else switched to his new extension when he got tenure. Except you. Providence does seem to be the answer here. I'm glad.

From: maba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: the very thought makes me breathless attach: ruleswip4.docx attach: ChairmanMeowFavorites.docx

I am honored you trusted me, Alec. Is that short for Alexander, perhaps? Would you mind if I called you that? It seems to fit the poetic nature of this correspondence.

Ragnor and I have been friends for a very long time, even before we both ended up on opposite ends of campus. It is terribly tempting to go ask him for a description of his interns last summer, except for the fact that I'd be lucky if he remembered the color of your hair. He could probably recognize your writing style within three words, but asking someone else is not how this goes, is it?

You are giving me clandestine operation vibes again, darling. Paper trails. Who says things like that? Spies. In delightfully bad movies.

Oh, oh! Do you have a tuxedo with exploding cufflinks? I have always wanted to see such a thing.

And yes, I am avoiding your questions, and no, I am not entirely sure why.

Or I am, and it's vaguely embarrassing. I think I am afraid that as soon as you know my real name this will stop being some unexpected fairy tale I have landed in, and something will go wrong, and I'll never get another email from you, and that thought is more upsetting than it has any right to be. I trust you too, dramatically, inexplicably, and completely.

I have never wanted to delete anything as much as I want to delete that paragraph. But you sent me all your sincere 2am ramblings, so I must do the same.

You make me brave, my mysterious Alexander.

Our rules list is not so much rules as elaborate flirtation at this point, wouldn't you say? And we've made our way through books and plays and movies, so now have a list of the music I never admit to people I listen to when I'm home alone and dancing for the cat.

My name is Magnus, and I have no real family to speak of, so I am not at all sure what one means by a hedge but I must admit that I want to find out.

And also that I especially wish to see a tuxedo on you, which I am sure is entirely too forward of me and I am quite sure I have just scared you away and I have never been so nervous about clicking that damn send icon in my life.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: forget breathless, I think I've forgotten how to breathe entirely attach: music.docx

I don't think I have successfully flirted with anyone before in my entire life. I feel suspiciously like I might be having an attack of the vapors like the characters from an old romance novel.

Don't tell my sister I read old romance novels. Or that there are showtunes on my music list. She will never let me hear the end of it. And look at me, assuming you want to meet my sister. Did I mention breathing is not really a thing at the moment?

Your cat's name is Chairman Meow? That is the second-best thing I've heard in my life.

First is that this unexpected correspondence means as much to you as it does to me. Or maybe first is the idea of you calling me Alexander. No one does, never have, though I've had to repeatedly correct a few teachers over the years to keep it that way, but I like the idea of it coming from you. I like that very much.

To answer your sort-of question before I get to my actual question, because I am nervous enough I have started this email about five times already, law students talk about paper trails. Especially in their last year when they're trying desperately not to think too much about everything that could go wrong before graduation and how easy it is to fail the Bar.

And here we go. If you were brave I cannot be any less, can I?

It's not a tuxedo, but if you do want to meet the hedge (and me, hopefully more so) Clary's best friend Simon is a musician, and he has a gig this weekend at The Hunter's Moon, if you would like to come and find out...

I don't know, find out if this is a real off the computer screen as it is inside it, somewhere public where it'll be easy enough to make a strategic retreat if necessary.

Or, I think we're past easy retreats, but at least it'll be possible.

I hope we don't have to.

It will be an awful lot of the hedge though, if that's too much? We could try coffee or something first.

I mean, there's my brother and sister and step-sister and Simon and his girlfriend (who also works at the bookstore, we're a tangled disaster) and sometimes my friend Lydia because if I don't drag her out occasionally she's even more of a workaholic than I am. And it would be even worse if our cousin Aline was here, but she's visiting her girlfriend abroad.

They frequently are too much. Because they will, assuredly, every single one of them, make a comment on me inviting someone. Except maybe Lydia. She'll give you a look though. She's very good at those. So. Just. A warning? Hell, that paragraph looks terrifying and I know all of them already. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, and if I had to talk instead of type I'm pretty sure I'd be stuttering. I kind of am, even here, aren't I?

I am 102% convinced I have just scared you away, but it's better to warn you than drop you in the middle of that. No one deserves that, and especially not someone I am very much looking forward to meeting.

And I really better hit send now or I'm going to give myself a heart-attack.

From: maba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: breathing is overrated

I have, my entire life, always been the one who is too much for someone else. I think it only fair, at our first acquaintance, that you have the opportunity to be too much as well. I would be delighted to dive into the deep-end of whatever this is and start out by meeting your family. We've done everything else out of order, haven't we?

With the caveat that perhaps we meet outside rather than in the middle of your hedge? (Do they know you call them that? Can I call them that? That sounds delightful.) Just in case, as you said.

And to share note by note, and also so you can answer your delightful hedge's presumably nosy questions about who the dashing man you've invited along even is, I am finishing up the second year of my very first real professor job in the drama department.

Not that that is likely to be a surprise, considering Marlowe and Bernhardt.

Also the eyeliner tends to add to that conclusion for most people who have met me in person. I am so very much looking forward to adding you to that list. (Also I'm terrified. Is it alright to be terrified? Should I admit that? Probably not. Too late now!) What's your favorite color, Alexander? I think I shall need the fortitude of getting my nails done before I arrive.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: but I need to survive until Saturday

There's a bus-stop around the corner, on 5th? We can meet there at 8 on Saturday, and then decide if you're willing to come inside with me or not. (I have not ever called the family a hedge before I attempted to explain them to you, and most definitely not to their faces. I highly encourage you to do so, so that I can watch. Is that mean? That might be a little mean of me, I do apologize. Sort of.)

I don't think anyone's asked me my favorite color since I outgrew my moody teenage years and the only possible answer was black, with perhaps the occasional detour into grey. Would it be terribly out of line of me to admit that meeting you makes me think of the sunrise, and thus I am, at the moment, most especially fond of pink and gold?

From: maba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: if you keep saying things like that, I'm not going to survive either

I never knew heart-attacks were contagious, but oh I think you shared yours with me with that last line. You are painfully romantic, Alexander, I am in awe.

But now I desperately need a change of conversational topic or I will fidget myself into a disaster by Saturday night, that's two whole days.

Why law school, if I may be both bold and boring and ask the obvious and impertinent?

I shall answer your return question, why the theatre? before you even have to ask. Or the short version, anyways. It gave me a world better than the one I was living in when I was young, and then it was just so very pretty that I never wanted to leave. Especially when I realized how many other people need that escape as well, and I could help them find it.

That got a bit more serious than I intended. That does keep happening to me, as soon as I start a message to you. I have never failed so entirely at being a light and sparkling and charming personality before. You're remarkable.

From: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L.] To: ma.ba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] subj: you have rendered me almost entirely speechless

I am not at all remarkable but the fact that you think so has kept me smiling all day. At least three people asked if I was all right, Lydia asked what his name is, whoever he is, (I have not told her yet, but I did re-invite her to Simon's gig, and I think she's definitely decided to come now), and I didn't even mind having to fix the same printer error four times tonight.

And you are easily the most captivating person I have ever (almost?) met.

Most of the time when people ask why law school it's easy enough to fob them off with a shrug, to mention that my father's a lawyer and my mother's a forensic accountant so I sort of just grew into it. Lightwood family tradition. Or something.

But my father's really the reason I almost didn't go to law school at all, and I don't want to give you the wrong impression. It's also a bit of a long story and may quite well ruin the conversation and if I scared you off now I think I might not recover any time soon.

Which is my way of saying hello there terror, nice you're visiting me, too.

I suppose the short version would be that, after Jace (the adopted brother) and my parents' truly disastrous divorce, I'd seen too many cases of terrible situations where no one had a real advocate. So I'm going into family law.

Hopefully. Assuming I don't have a panic attack and fail the Bar. Which is honestly what every other law student I know thinks is going to happen and clearly we can't all be that disastrous, but it's hard to keep that in mind some days.

Most days.

I can tell you the long story, if you'd like, but I have to admit I rather desperately want to kiss you before I say something too depressing and you no longer want to kiss me back. (And don't think I didn't notice you doing the exact same thing with your long story.)

And the 2am inability to think before I type is back. I did not miss you.

I am going to hit send now before I chicken out or die of mortification.

From: maba05@uia.edu [M. Bane] To: algili04@uia.edu [Alec L] subj: asdfjklgh (how's that for speechless?)

I may have just lost a half-an-hour staring blankly at my screen imagining Alexander kisses so. Priorites agreed upon! Until tonight it is.

[wtfholland]

late night talks with tom☽

a/n: i discovered this band called cigarettes after sex about a year and a half ago and fell in love. honestly, their music is the most calming, mellow, and relaxing stuff i’ve ever heard. i found this playlist that has their music with a couple other songs from different artists, who are just as amazing♥ this also turned out to be a lot longer than i anticipated but OH WELL ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

masterlist♡

request♡

[for dialogue, italic is for y/n and bold is for tom]

listen to this while reading♫

i think we can all agree that everyone gets really honest when they have late night talks

in my opinion, i think it’s one of the most special things you can do with someone

you're laying in your bed, staring up at your ceiling

it’s late and both of your parents are already sleeping

there is nothing that sparked your interest on netflix and you’ve already finished the book that you’ve been reading that week

none of your friends were awake

...except for one

your room is dark except for the beautiful glimmer coming from the fairy lights you have hanging on your headboard

your room is also quiet except for the soft music coming from your laptop (*nudge, nudge* the playlist i linked lel)

the one constant thing that kept grazing your thoughts was tom

his sparkling eyes, enchanting laugh, beautiful smile, fluffy hair and just...everything

just the thought of him made your heart swell and practically beat out of your chest

you’ve considered texting him but you knew he was constantly busy and needed rest after getting back from filming

but your panties got into an extreme bunch so you gave into your hearts demands

a couple seconds after this text, your phone starts buzzing

you waited a couple seconds before answering because you didn’t want to seem desperate (literally fucking me in real life)

“hello?”

“‘ello love.”

“oh, my god! is this the real tom holland? calling me? i am...honoured.”

you hear him laugh softly on the other end and you melt

“oh, shut up. you’re the only super star here, y/n. how are you doing? why couldn’t you sleep?”

“oh, you know, i just couldn’t stop thinking about you. how in love i am with you, how sexually frustrated i am with you AND also how bloody cold it happens to be in my goddamn house” you think

“ehrm, i’ve just been...thinking about a bunch of stuff all day and laying down just kind of made me think about these things even more.”

“really? enlighten me. i’ve been in the same predicament myself for the past few nights.”

you end up bullshitting and telling tom how you have feelings for this one guys who you “work with” but how you’re too chicken shit to make a move or even drop hints that you’re interested

you keep trying to change subject. for a while, you're having a very serious conversation about how insignificant you feel because compared to the rest of the world (actually, the universe) you’re two specs of dust

*as a bonus, watch this and be mind blown*

“right?! like, honestly, i know that harry probably thinks we’re bat shit crazy and just being childish but, there is no way that we are the only forms of life. i’m calling it right now, there are aliens out there.”

“no kidding. when they come to earth, they’ll probably probe harry.”

you both start laughing. tom’s laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. it sounded better than your favorite song

“so, uh...does your...man of interest believe in aliens?”

“uh, yeah, he actually does! isn’t that awesome?”

“huh, okay then.”

...

“whatta fuckin’ loser.” tom whispers

you’re actually dying on the inside. he’s so...ugh

tom quickly changes the entire mood of the conversation

he starts talking about a fake girl, trying to make you jealous

“hm well, i don’t think i told you yet but there is this one really fit girl who i met not too long ago.”

you immediately feel your stomach drop and your heart shrink

“uh, that’s good...i guess. what’s her name?”

“uh...tracy...lancaster.”

“oh...cool.”

“yeah, she goes to my gym.”

 shit. FUCK. 

in addition, you felt your self esteem crumble because you don’t go to the gym

“there’s no way he’d like me. i knew it. i’m stupid for ever thinking that he could be hiding the fact that he has feelings for me. who am i kidding? he’ll only ever be interested in models or girls who are drop dead gorgeous. not...someone like me.” you thought

you couldn’t be anymore WRONG

spoiler alert: he likes you

he loves you actually, but he’s just as big of a wuss as you are to admit his feelings, in fear that he’ll fuck up your friendship

“so...what does tracy look like?”

“she’s...blonde. and, uh...nice looking...stuff. y’know...the works.”

this bOY

okay, moving on

tom continues to push you to talk about your crush

but you’re ready to crank this thing up a notch AND DESTROY HIS INTEREST IN “TRACY” AHHH (sorry)

so you try to make him jealous now, without knowing that he was already initially jealous

“he just...he treats me extremely well. he understands everything but i know in the back of my head that he’s just being friendly, and that’s what hurts the most. i feel like i’m wasting my time but part of me wants to keep hoping that he possibly feels something for me. but, he’s like...so hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve seen.yeah...he’s, uh...preeeeetty bangin’.”

tom stays quiet for while

you start to notice how everytime you brought something up that you liked about your “work buddy” (WHO IS ACTUALLY TOM), he’d give you shitty responses

“he has pretty eyes.”

“oh, nice”

“he also skateboards, and plays a little bit of guitar.”

“hm, i can do both (sorta).”

HE. IS. SO. OBLIVIOUS. AHHHH.

“he used to take dancing. his hair is super shaggy and lovely. not gonna lie, but i’ve thought of running my fingers thro-”

“he probably dances like he has two left feet. what’s this clown’s name anyways?”

“oh! it’s uh...tyler! tyler nuh..nolan.”

“hmm...that’s basic.”

you becoming more and more confused

“why are you shutting down everything i’m saying about him?”

...

“tom?”

“sorry, love. can you repeat that? i was, uh...distracted.”

“i said why are you shutting him down, like the things i’m telling you about him?

“i’m not?”

“yeah, you kind of are.”

“ugh, whatever...”

...

...

“jerk.”

“brat.”

...

“UGH, do you want me to be honest?”

“yes!”

“i’m dismissing what you’re saying because every single time you’ve ever fancied someone, they’ve always broken your heart. i’ve been here with you through every single heartbreak you’ve endured to pick up the pieces and quite honestly, love...it fucking hurts me to see what they do to you. i’m sorry to be so blunt but you’ve never had the best of luck when it comes to love. i just worry about you, all the time. i don’t want anyone to hurt you, especially not this knob that you’re so flustered over. you’re smart, brilliant i should say. YOUR eyes are pretty, you are so talented, so outgoing, down to earth, kind, absolutely beautiful...you’re so...you.”

yOu ArE qUaKiNg

tom immediately retreats and wants to die because of this sudden outburst

He Is QuAkInG

there is a good 60 seconds of silence

you’re in complete disbelief. the guy who you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember just made you fall even harder for him (if that was even possible)

“tommy...you think i’m beautiful? you think all that stuff about me?”

“...yeah...i do. i think you’re...the most beautiful girl on the planet. i mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

you feel yourself starting to tear up

this is it. 

this was the perfect time to tell him.

“tom...i...there’s something i need to tell you and i don’t know what you’re going to think after i tell you but...i just want you to know...”

“go ahead, love. tell me. i have something i’d like to tell you to...”

deep bREATHS, y/n

your heart is beating so fucking fast, you think you’ll drop dead right then and there

“here we go.” you thought

there’s no going back now

“i can’t keep hiding this from you...how i feel about you. tom, i...i’m in love with you and i know how stupid that sounds. ‘tyler nolan’ isn’t a real person. i just made him up but i was really just talking about you. you’re my best friend and i never anticipated this to ever happen but, i don’t know what it is about you. you’re honestly one of my favorite people ever; the way you carry yourself, your selflessness, you’re just so perfect, and please don’t try to tell me you’re not. i love everything about you, right down to the flaws you think you have. i...know that you don’t feel the same way towards me but after tonight, i just felt like i should get this off my chest. i can tell you that i’ve felt this way towards you for as long as i can remember. i want to be with you, in every way, shape and form. i love you...thomas stanley holland. so much.”

...

mutha fuggin silence

tom

is

DYING

LIIIIIIIIKE 

😶

XABZNJAUIBDNLAISNI he’s actually ready to drop his pants and marry you

you immediately start freaking out because he’s not saying anything

“tommy...say something, please...”

tom starts tearing up because he’s so happy

“this is a miracle.” he thought

“i fucking love her. oh god, i love her”

“y/n...i lo--”

...

...

“tom?”

...

“hello? tom, are you still there?”

you moved the phone away from your ear and looked at your screen

the damn thing was back on your lock screen

you checked your battery, which now dropped to 43%

then you realized...

hIS FUCKING PHONE MUST’VE DIED

meanwhile

he’s actually freaking the fuck out at his house

“FUCKING HELL!!! SHIT!!!!” 

all of a sudden, he hears banging on his door

“TOM! SHUT UP, YOU’RE SO BLOODY LOUD, YOU WANKER!” he heard sam on the other side of the door 

tom ignores him and frantically tries to look for an extra charger in his room because haz ruined the one he already had

sam pulls open the door

“mate, be quiet! mum can hear you from upstairs. what are you doing? it’s almost two in the morning.” sam whisper-yelled

“y/n just poured her heart out to me on the phone and i need to tell her that i feel the same way she feels but my bloody phone died when i was about to tell her! do you have your charger? can i please borrow it?” tom exclaimed, frantically

“tessa bit mine, i need to get a new one. just ask mum for her’s in the morning. good god, go to sleep.” sam replies, storming out of tom’s room

tom sighs, defeated

he feels terrible about getting cut off because he’s worried about what you’re thinking

YOU ARE FREAKING OUT

you are tossing and turning, trying to figure out what tom was going to say

“i lo...? i love you but in a platonic way? i lost you, did you just say you love me?” you thought

UGH

ain’t nobody wanna wait

you probably got around two hours of sleep that night

finally the next day, your eyes snap open

you scramble to reach for your phone, which is sitting on your bedside table, with your charger hanging out of the bottom

you rip the cord out of your phone and find five texts from tom

thank GOD

you let out a sigh

YOU WERE SO RELIVED THAT HE DIDN’T ACTUALLY JUST HANG UP ON YOU

but like

dafuq

hang on?

HANG ON?

you notice that he sent these over an hour ago

suddenly, you heard a bang coming from outside your room

wTF 

your parent(s) is/are at work and your sibling(s) (if you have any) is/are gone on a school trip

you start freaking out

you quickly tumbled out of bed (your feet get caught on your blankets so you ate shit lel)

scooping yourself off the floor, you slowly but surely pull open your bedroom door

you have 911 dialled into your phone on standby

you tiptoe down the hall and peek your head into each door way of the main floor

nothing

there’s another bang

“the creep must be in the kitchen stealing my food” you thought

you trot over to the kitchen and you shat a brick

fuCKING TOM HAS HIS BACK TURNED TOWARDS YOU

“WHAT THE FUCK???”

he dropped a pan in fear, the metal clanking against the stove loudly

he FUCKING SHRIEKED (if tom shrieking isn’t adorable, then honestly wtf is)

tom whirled around quickly with his hand over his heart, trying to calm his breathing

“bloody hell! i just pissed myself, i didn’t even hear you come in.”

you moved towards him, the memories of your confession began to invade your head again

your knees buckled a little bit underneath you with every step you took but you tried your best to stand your ground, not letting the intimidation get to you

“what are you doing here?”

you look behind him

thAT FUQQIN QT

he was preparing breakfast for the two of you

scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, breakfast sausage, toast, a bowl of strawberries, freshly squeezed orange juice and of course, the tea you both loved so much

you look back up at him in awe and he’s just smiling down at you

“i’m sorry for all the noise, love. i let myself in with the key you have hidden in the flower pot outside and i, uh...wanted to make you breakfast...”

you are still silent

this is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you

“and i’m also here to tell you that...”

suddenly, tom was leaning down. his hand cupped your cheek and his arm wrapped around your waist

his lips were mere inches away from yours

instinctively, you placed both your hands on his biceps, holding them as you pushed forward too, closing the space between the both of you

MUTHA FUCKIN FIREWORKS ARE GOING OFF IN YALLS HEADS

of course both of you have kissed other people before but this kiss...

THIS KISS.

lemme tell u sumtin

this was the best friggin kiss either of you have ever had

tom was the first to pull away, but he rested his forehead on yours and chuckled under his breath

“i’m here to tell you that...i love you too. i’m so in love with you. i’ve been waiting ages for you to tell me what you told me last night.”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing

“oh and, uh...’tracy lancaster’? she isn’t a real person either, just like ‘tyler’.”

your eyes scrunch a little as you giggled from how childish the two of you really are

you bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, as his snake around your waist

you both stand there, full of content and full of love

“god...i love you, angel. you’re so bloody perfect. thank you for loving me.” tom whispered

the only thing you can think of is

“wowie, i guess i’m not just a spec of dust in this universe after all.”

after a while, you quickly left to brush your teeth and wash up for breakfast

you sit down at the table with tom, the both of you laughing, going over the times you both figured out your feelings towards one another

you both really enjoyed the breakfast

but let’s just say that breakfast wasn’t the only thing tom ate that morning

lol

sorry

kill me

byE

[theoddcatlady]

Online Dating

“His name should be… Augustus Payne…”

“Holy shit, Mike.”

I covered my mouth to muffle my laughter as my friend typed in the name. He grinned as he contemplated what to put next. “We’re a millionaire…”

“Mike!”

“We own a houseboat…”

“Mike!”

“We love walks on the beach…”

“Holy shit Mike, you are putting way too much effort into this!”

Mike laughed and sat back in the desk chair, steepling his fingers. “Hey man. If this gets us nudes, it’s worth it,” He said.

I had to agree. I took a sip of my soda and thought for a second. “Augustus also writes poetry. He’s looking to get published,” I offered up.

“Chase, you beautiful bastard. I could kiss you.”

I grinned before I went back to looking through profiles on a modeling website. This was probably one of the stupider ideas Mike has ever come up with, pretend to be this hot guy to get some hot girls to talk to us, but there were stupider ways to spend a Friday night.

I stopped scrolling when I saw this model with some European name I couldn’t pronounce. Generic hot white guy, high cheek bones, ruffled dark brown hair, light stubble. Perfect for what we needed. “Hey man, I found a face for Augustus.” I turned my phone so Mike could look.

Mike nodded. “Got it, gimme a sec to play in photoshop though. Just to touch him up.”

“He’s a fucking model, Mike, what kind of touching up does he need?”

Apparently ‘touching up’ meant changing a few backgrounds, adding a small scar under ‘Augustus’ lip, and turning his dark brown eyes very bright blue. I had to admit, Mike was good. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was looking at a real person.

Mike added the pics to the profile and sat back.

“And now, we wait.”

We didn’t have to wait long. One round of Overwatch later and Mike was shouting, “We got a girl! Holy shit she’s hot!”

I had to disagree. ‘Justine’ could afford to lose a few pounds and had a bit of a lazy eye, but Mike was focusing on one thing… er, two things if you get the hint of my drift.

“So, Justine…” Mike spoke aloud as he typed. “What do you think about sailing?”

I snorted. The poor girl ate every line up. Mike wasn’t exactly a looker, given he was thirty pounds overweight and had a serious case of pizza face, but he had one thing on me and that was he knew how to schmooze. Meanwhile I looked okay, but I was terrible with the ladies. I’d get this terrible stutter and forget my own name.

An hour in and I was already bored, wanting to go kick some more ass as Genji, but Mike was just getting started.

“Here.”

He had jotted down the password for the account. He pressed it into my hand and grinned.

“Get some practice talking to chicks. It might do you some good.”

The next morning I picked out Janette. She was a little older, past forty, but I figured a hot guy like Augustus would get her attention. Plus, I like them mature. I sent off a message telling her hello and complimented her necklace.

Aren’t I a little old for you, sweetie?

The best part about online messaging, I found out super quickly? I could take my time formulating a decent response.

I don’t think the age difference is a big deal, really. You’re like what, thirty two?

I patted myself on the back for that one. And Janette’s response declared me the winner.

We’ll go with that. Feel like sharing your poetry with me, Augustus dear?

I thought I’d drop this within a day, maybe two or three. But as days went on, I met more and more amazing girls. There was Janette of course. We’d sext at around three AM, which I was a bit clumsy with at first but thankfully she seemed to brush it off. Valarie was a cheerleader at a nearby college, very perky and I didn’t have to ask twice for boob pics. She sent me a lot more than that. Patti was a starving artist who liked to smoke weed and talk about her newest vision with me.

It was so much fun.

Mike had a few girls I noticed he’d talk to frequently, Lauren, Heidi, Mallory, but as an unspoken rule to each other we never looked at each other’s conversations. Some things were best left to the imagination.

Course when stuff really got good I got fucking mono. Yup. Mister ‘never kissed a girl’ clearly drank from the wrong water fountain and was out for the count for three weeks. I was in no mood to talk to girls or even look at nudes. I was just not up for it. I told Mike he better have fun without me and he laughed.

When I finally felt better, I decided to see if I could repair any of the relationships I’d let grow cold. I logged onto quite the surprise though.

My conversations had seemingly continued on at normal.

I snapped out of feeling sorry for myself to read through the conversations. It was like nothing had changed. ‘Augustus’ conversed with these women as normal, sharing new poetry and sending body shots from new modeling shoots.

I got annoyed. Mike had gone through my convos, which is something I hadn’t specified he not do, but it was a little uncomfortable to say the least. I was practicing my dirty talk on these chicks! Not cool man. Not cool.

Then I read the last messages sent to Valarie.

I’ll meet you on the lakeshore. We can take a swim.

hehehe! maybe a lil skinny dipping ;)

We’ll have to see, my pixie. I imagine you look even more ravishing in person. I can’t wait to meet you.

I slammed my laptop shut and picked up my phone. Furiously I punched in Mike’s number and waited for him to pick up.

A few rings and he answered, “What’s up my man? Still dead?”

“Dude, are you serious?”

I could hear Mike pause what he was doing. “Serious about what?” He asked.

I wanted to pitch my phone across the room. “You’re meeting Valarie? I don’t think she’s gonna not notice that you’re not six foot six with washboard abs!”

Mike paused. “Dude, the fuck you talking about?”

“The dating website, you moron!”

He was quiet for a bit before he laughed. “Seriously? Chase I’ve not been on there in days. Too busy trying to find a new roommate. You up for that by the way? I know you’re kinda jobless but we could make it work!”

Too irritated to play games, I hung up and went to bed. I still felt pretty fucked up and I wasn’t in the mood to be awake anymore.

The next morning I scrolled through my Facebook feed to be barraged with news of a murder.

“Isn’t it terrible? She was only twenty one!”

“She had so much to live for.”

“She had a FULL RIDE through college! Who could do this to her?”

I was confused. We might’ve lived in a college town, but other than the vandalism during pledge week it was pretty quiet. Murder was unheard of. I clicked to an article where the victim was named.

It was Valarie. But not quite the Valarie I knew.

She had the same smile, but she was a little chubbier, wore glasses, had not as shiny and full hair… and she was in a wheelchair.

I scrolled through the photos she’d sent me, I’d never realized I hadn’t ever seen her standing up before. I was more focused on other body parts… which were a little touched up. Something I hadn’t bothered to notice.

And yeah, it was murder. She was dragged into the lake and drowned. She didn’t stand a chance.

I looked up news from the past few weeks. Although another murder hadn’t rocked my town, there were quite a few missing girls and dead bodies in cities surrounding us. And I began to piece together who each one was.

Patti wasn’t a stoner, she was a meth addict and apparently got more money for drugs by whoring herself out. Mallory, one of Mike’s girls, didn’t have a yacht, she was apparently an avid canoe lover though. Lauren was ten years older than the pictures she posted. I could go on and on.

My best friend had gone serial killer on me. All these girls we’d talked to, they were maybe as fake as we were, but Mike had apparently taken personal offense to that.

I was wondering what the hell I could do when I realized that I was getting messaged by Janette… and I was apparently messaging her back.

“So, tonight? At the docks?”

“I cannot wait, Augustus. I’m going to be honest with you though.”

“Oh?”

“I’m... working on separating with my husband. It’s a very tough process, given our kids and all, so it isn’t legal yet.”

“Ah. I see. You omitted the truth… some might call that lying.”

“Is our date still on?”

“Sure.”

My heart was pounding in my ears. I had to stop this. Janette was actually a great person, I couldn’t let her get killed by my friend turned psycho.

I hurriedly began to type out a warning.

Janette don’t go it’s a trap!

When I hit send, my stomach dropped as the message didn’t go through. No matter how many times I tried, over and over, the message wouldn’t send. I must’ve sent a dozen warnings before I realized that Janette had gone offline.

Not sure what else to do, I got on my bike and began pedaling.

It was dark by the time I got to the docks, where Augustus supposedly kept his boat. I figured this is where Mike meant. I knew Mike was seriously out of shape, so I had the advantage. All I had to do was get him away from Janette and she could run and call the cops.

Foolproof.

I ran down the dock. Where the hell was Mike? I knew he didn’t own a boat, the guy worked at McDonald’s. Did he borrow someone’s? Heck, was he even on a boat?

I skidded to a stop when I read the name off of one of them.

Narcissus.

I don’t know why that name caught my eye, but then I heard the water splashing. Not just the soft splashes of it washing on the dock. The kind where someone’s thrashing about and trying to escape.

I ran down the docks, searching for the source, when I caught a figure kneeling out of the corner of my eye. I stopped and flashed the light on my phone on him.

The man was leaned over the edge of the deck, pushing someone’s head below the water. Someone who was no longer struggling. I could make out a dark blue jacket, I recognized it as Janette’s from her profile picture. The man stood, kicked her body into the ocean, and faced me.

I dropped my phone when I saw his face. It smash and the dock and the light went dead.

We were quiet. Then he walked forward. I couldn’t move. My legs were frozen. I could only make out his muscled silhouette in the dim moonlight. He was ten feet away. Then five. Then he was right in front of me.

I recognized that face, those eerily blue eyes. He leaned in close to me, smiling.

“Hello, father.”

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. His grip was like iron.

“I got rid of another liar for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with it. Keep trying, I’m sure you’ll find me a mother soon.”

And with that, Augustus hopped onto the Narcissus and sailed away into the night.

[authoressskr]

I’m Gonna Shoot You Down, Jesse James

Written for: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian’s Divas of Storytelling Challenge

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Song: Just Like Jesse James by Cher

Characters: Reader (Hey, that’s you!), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Language, ugh, can’t think of anything else now except maybe subpar writing…

Summary: A brokenhearted witch decides to kill those who have dumped their significant other. You need to find her and gank her before anyone else dies. Too bad Dean is being an overprotective bitch.

Tagging: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @lyndsay88 @thewhiterabbit42 @sdavid09 @lucis-unicorn

** Do Not Post/Copy/Share Anywhere, On Any Other Platforms, Without My Permission**

“So, I think I found a case.” Sam begins, joining Dean and yourself at the library’s first table, easing himself down into a vacant chair beside you. “Four men and one woman have had their hearts ripped out of their chests.”

“Werewolf?” Dean asks, looking up from his own laptop.

“Sounds like it.” You lean over, scanning through the article he has up.

“Uh, Sam?”

“Humm?” You tap at the bottom of the article.

“You read all this article?”

“No, just saw the headline and first paragraph.”

“You should have read it all. You’re really losing your touch, Sam. And you didn’t start with ‘So, get this’.” Sam gave you patented Sam Winchester bitch face while Dean chuckled. “One death was outside the club in full view of three witnesses, the other in her locked apartment - alone. This guy died in his car. Dude number three left the club to pick up his brother at work and his brother watched as he fell to the ground, leaning against his car, cigarette still in hand. And the last guy, one Kent Chandler, dropped dead at a liquor store. So, not sure that a werewolf could do that.”

“Witch?” Sam offers, pulling the laptop back in front of him, scanning through the full article. “Well shit. It’s got to be magic related.”

“We know how I feel about witches.” Dean murmurs, taking a long drink from his coffee before closing his laptop. “Well, get the witch killing bullets and the box of gloves and meet in the garage in thirty.”

“Gloves?” Sam asks, looking sideways at you, brow furrowed.

“Witches are nasty, man. Just grab the gloves.” You chuckle at Dean’s words then rise, heading for your room, hearing Sam faintly say “Shit, how’d I miss that?”

—

Luckily, the case was just a short four hour and some change drive from the Bunker, and you all got into town a little before one pm. After a quick stop at a motel to change - you refused to change in a truck stop bathroom, just outright refused - it was straight into Fed mode, which revealed that the hearts had exploded out of their chests. You may or may not have smirked at Sam after that fact was revealed.

And after thanking the very rude coroner, who smelled of tobacco and too much Axe body spray, you all exited the hospital, Sam and Dean exchanging those damn mind-melding looks they always shared.

“What?” You huffed, pausing at the Impala with your fingers brushing the chrome handle, looking from Dean beside you to Sam across the hood.

“Seems familiar.” Sam answered, bracing his elbows on the hood.

“That was Famine. When the couple ate each other.”

“The couple what?”

“Famine made them hungry for love.” Dean explained. “It was all-consuming, thus, ya know, they consumed.” A look of revulsion crossed your face.

“That’s disgusting and very disturbing.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean agreed, clicking his tongue afterward. “What about a borrower witch?”

“None of the corpses have been reanimated. And if it was a borrower witch, why destroy the hearts?”

“Were-pire?”

“Again, why destroy the hearts?” Dear Lord, this could go on forever.

“Let’s just start at the club. That’s the common link they all shared, well the only one I could find.” You suddenly have both their attention, Dean pursing his lips as he gave you an appreciative nod.

“Good job, darlin’.”

“Darlin’.”& You tease, watching Dean’s mouth open and close before you open the door and slip into the backseat. Sam’s soft chuckle fills the car for a split second before the Impala’s loud rumble drowns it out.

—

The manager, Trixie, informs Dean that yes, all the victims did visit the club before their untimely deaths. But that she’s been cooperative with the local police and she’d be more than happy to help with whatever he may need. Of course, she would. If it involved being on her back.

You roll your eyes and wander over to the bartender who is prepping for tonight’s opening behind the bar, leaving Sam with his brother.

“Hello. I’m Agent Tyler. Just wanted to see if you’d seen anything suspicious leading up to any or all the deaths? Maybe you noticed something about the gentleman who died just outside?”

“Well, Agent, sexy first name, by the way, it’s like I told the -”

“Are you really going to make me go back and read every single statement instead of just telling me?” His chuckle is deep, amused.

“Naw, I’ll tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spend all night reading those statements instead of talkin’ to little old me. I’d like to know your first name though, get a bit friendly.”

“Uh-huh. You tell me yours first.”

“Gregor.”

“If your last name is Clegane, then I’m obliged to tell your brother where you are.” His laughter gets the attention of Dean, Sam, and Trixie, all of whom frown at you two.

“Oh, we’re in trouble now.”

“Pretty par for the course for me. I’m Y/N.”

“Pretty. Real pretty.”

“Thank you. Now, Gregor, anything you can remember? Nothing is too small.”

“Well the guy who died outside, he had - I don’t know - a half dozen shots of tequila before he did the open mic slash karaoke thing we have Wednesday through Saturday. Sunday through Tuesday nights we have a house band. He was celebrating being single again, he did mention that before he sang. A couple women approached him, and he got their numbers before he went outside to take a phone call. One of the waitresses, Darcy, was outside having a smoke. Didn’t see anything, since she was by the side door of the bar, but said she heard something squelch loud then screaming. Might wanna talk to her. She comes in about seven.” You nod, making bulletins about each fact Gregor had given. “And you should give me your card,” He flashes an easy, flirty smile. “In case I remember anything else.”

“Did all the victims do karaoke?” You ask, pulling out one of the fake FBI cards from your inner jacket pocket, holding it out to Gregor.

“Not that I can remember - just him.” He takes the card, flashing another smile before winking and tucking your card into his breast pocket.

Turning to head back to the boys, you nearly run smack into Dean.

“Whoa. Personal bubble.”

“We don’t have personal bubbles.” But he isn’t looking at you, and shooting a look over your shoulder you don’t see anything. Sam is sporting an amused look when you look to him for clarification. Whatever.

“When I’m all covered in goo and various substances you suddenly have a personal bubble. And I think I got a new lead. Or at least a way to draw whoever it is out.”

“Y/N.” You turn to find Gregor’s returned and is leaning on the bar top. “Trixie keeps the sign-up sheets for a couple weeks. Might be helpful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mountain.”

“Anytime, Agent.”

“If you’re done.” Dean growls, his hand on the small of your back pushing you forward quickly.

“Who knew the reason those pretty eyes of yours were green was ‘cause they’re filled with jealousy.”

“I. Am. Not. Jealous.”

“Sure.” Sam agrees, sarcasm evident in his tone.

“And I’m Aphrodite.” You reply snidely, sidestepping his pushy self and heading back over to where Trixie stood.

“Hi. Dean here wanted to know if we could have copies of the sign-up sheets for the past couple weeks? He’s very thorough.”

“Oh, I bet he is. Give me two shakes and I’ll be right out with them.” Of course, she doesn’t respond to you, but to Dean, flashing overly white teeth as she saunters out of the main bar area.

“Now who’s jealous?” Dean breathes against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and an errant giggle from your lips.

“Stop that!” You hiss. “Now isn’t the time for your flirting. Or breathing on my ear when you know that makes me laugh!” You elbow him gently. “And I’m not jealous, Dean. Just shocked at your lack of standards.” He’s got that smug smile plastered on when Trixie returns and you don’t bother to stay, turning on your heel with Sam close behind.

—

As luck would have it, just the man, Eric Root, sang that night.

But the local police were on it. They’d investigated their personal lives pretty damn well and each one of the victims had just broken up with their significant other.

And said significant others all sang the night before or the night of each respective death.

“Ha!” You shout triumphantly, pushing your notepad over to Sam who sat across from you. “It’s a witch. The witch is offing the people who hurt the singers.” Dean rises from where he was sitting against the headboard, looking over Sam’s shoulder at your notes. He makes a noncommittal noise as Sam begins typing away. “What? It makes sense! Each of the hurt parties sang a sad or powerful song and then the person that broke up with them suddenly has their heart expelled from their chest. We need to go tonight and sing. It’ll draw the witch out and we gank it.”

“Uh, we don’t sing.” You roll your eyes, standing as you smile down at Sam.

“I can.”

“No.” Dean’s voice is firm, like a father telling a child they can’t have more ice cream.

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist.” He smirks and reaches forward to wrap an arm around your waist.

“Dean Fucking Winchester, if you don’t remove your damn hands I will kick your ass into next week. Being your normal, flirty asshole self is difficult enough to handle without you telling me what I can and can’t-do!” You shove his arms off you, then shove him backward with a glare before grabbing your purse and phone from the table and storming out the door.

—

She’d returned nearly an hour later, refusing to look at Dean as she grabbed a change of clothes from her duffle and locking herself in the bathroom.

“Dude, you should apologize.”

“What for?”

“Come on, Dean. You know why. You love her.” Dean scoffs, finishing his beer. “You’ve been flirting with her since we met her. And she has yet to succumb to anything you’ve thrown at her. She’s not like the other girls you pick up at the bar or diner or wherever, Dean. Y/N flirts with you to deflect. She likes you, you idiot. But you gotta stop handling her with kid gloves. The last couple cases you’ve been more overbearing than usual. Especially with her. She’s been hunting since she was 22. Y/N is more than capable. I know you don’t want her to get hurt - neither do I - but you can’t…”

“I know!” Dean snaps, tossing the empty bottle across the room into the trash can. He runs his hands through his hair, giving it a few sharp tugs. “The last couple cases - man, I don’t want to be like Dad was with you, but I can’t fucking help it. When we were hunting those ghouls in Boise and they sliced her arm, so close to her artery, I panicked. What if she’d died, Sam? Who is going to hang their underwear all over the bathroom? Who’s gonna be up at 2 in the morning, a cold cup of tea on the table because she fell asleep before finishing it again? Who else is going to out-lore you? All those thoughts just rushed forward - and they haven’t left, Sam.”

“Dean, we have all had close calls. You and I have died more than our fair share. We’ll keep her safe, just like we always do. But, you gotta tell her, Dean. And we have to let her do this for this case.”

The door swung open, revealing Y/N - her hair was tousled, lips painted a dark pink and jeans hugging every curve while a dark gray top clung to her breasts, scooped down to give a good view.

“I’ll see you at the club.” She muttered, walking to her purse beside her duffle, searching through it for her ID and a couple twenties. When she turned around, Sam was standing in front of the door. “Come on Sam, not you too.”

“No, princess, we’re all going together.” Dean answered, shrugging on his jacket before heading towards the door, handing Sam his before shooting you that cocky smile, but his eyes weren’t the same. “If you play your cards right, I’ll bring you home with me.” Y/N took the olive branch, reaching out to give Dean’s upper arm a firm squeeze.

“I think you mean if you play your cards right, Winchester.” Sam rolled his eyes but flashed a tight smile as you brushed past them and settled into the Impala. But the tense atmosphere was still there, lingering on the edges.

—

“So, I’ve narrowed it down to these two women.” You hand the pictures to Sam, leaning on the back of the seat. “They both were there, doing karaoke, every night that someone died. I double checked the lists. These two, Marcia and Ashley, are consistently there.” You take a deep breath before huffing it out. “You know, I kinda wish there was a witch-detector spell. Make the job a whole lot easier.”

Sam huffs out his agreement before handling the pictures to Dean. Dean looks them over then nods, pushing them across the seat back to Sam.

“You say the word, Y/N, and we corner the witch and gank her. Got it? Don’t -”

“Put myself in unnecessary danger. I know Dean. You’ve been playing that particular record for the last month and a half. I’m always careful.” You reach out, squeezing his left shoulder, feeling him relax minutely under your fingertips. You withdraw your hand, easing back against the seat and smirking. “Maybe you’ve just gotten sweet on me, Dean Winchester.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

Those five words shoved the knife in deep. And that stupid, patronizing nickname he called waitresses and a few snippy monsters. The name he had never called you before.

This… This ache now flared up inside you.

It was worse, so much worse than all the flirty banter, all the touching, fuck - everything else.

Sweetheart.

You were happy when the car pulled up outside the club, throwing open the door and escaping from the Winchesters and those five stupid words that were rattling around in your head.

—

You made your way to the bar, desperately needing a shot of anything to slow down the whirling of thoughts in your head. You should have known better than to have feelings for Dean “I Don’t Know How to Keep it in My Pants” Winchester. Maybe you should leave once you returned to the Bunker…

You’d figure that out after the case. No one else would die on your watch.

A quick call to Trixie while you’d been out cooling down had placed you in the middle of tonight’s roster so you’d have time to locate the potential witch, sing to draw her out, and then hopefully seclude and gank her murdering ass.

“Another Lady Mormont? Or would it be Lady Brienne?” You chuckle as Gregor pours you another, winking.

“I would like to think I’m a nice mix of both, but more of a Brienne.”

“Well, I shall be back shortly. My lady.” He nods, grinning widely before heading off to your left to help some other customers.

You phone dings and you tug it from your back pocket.

+  Sam: We have eyes on both the women.  +

You throw back the shot, fighting the cough that manifests as it burns down your throat.

Trixie chooses to appear before you can type out a response to Sam, so damn cheerful and perky as she clutched her clipboard. Jesus.

“So, we have a couple people who need a later slot, so you’ll be up next.” She peers at the clipboard, missing the wide-eyed stare you give. “Well, not next-next. After this lady finishes, there is a gentleman who is singing and then it’ll be you!” You nod at her, giving her your most convincing smile - hopefully - then turn back to the bar and order a plain water as you hear the last chords of Faith Hill’s ‘The Way You Love Me’ ring out. Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

You hadn’t sung publicly since you were in your high school choir and the nerves (and alcohol) were making your stomach flutter, twirl, and knot. You left what was left of your water at the bar, edging closer to the stage since the gentleman was already half-way through his odd rendition of Styx’s ‘Come Sail Away’.

The song you’d chosen, it’d been playing in your head for the last few weeks. You’d hit shuffle on your iPod right after Dean had snapped at you after the ghoul case. And really, no other song had seemed so perfect a fit.

“Give a warm welcome to a karaoke virgin, Y/N Tyler!” You swallowed hard, taking the offered microphone and standing mid-stage, chose a spot just above the crowd to focus and worked on channeling your inner-Cher. With a nod to the woman manning the soundboard, you inhale deeply, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet as the song began.

You’re struttin’ into town like you’re slingin’ a gun

Just a small-town dude with a big city attitude

Honey are you lookin’ for some trouble tonight

Well alright

You think you’re so bad, drive the women folk wild

Shoot ‘em all down with the flash of your pearly smile

Honey but you met your match tonight

Oh, that’s right

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'Til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cryin’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gone break it’s going to take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gone win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Dean moved away from his place leaning against the back wall, keeping an eye on Ashley temporarily forgotten as he stared at you like he’d never seen you before. He’s spellbound as you run your hands through your messy hair, this fire suddenly lighting up your eyes before they close momentarily as you sing, opening them as you shoot the crowd one of those sexy innocent smiles he was always hoping you’d direct at him.

You’re an outlaw lover and I’m after your hide

Well you ain’t so strong, won’t be long 'til your hands are tied

Tonight, I’m gonna take you in

Dead or Alive

That’s right

You break the laws of love in the name of desire

Take ten steps back

'Cause I’m ready baby

Aim and fire

Baby, there’s nowhere you going to run tonight

Ooh That’s right

Well you’ve had your way with love but it’s the end of the day

Now a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby you know there ain’t nothing left to say

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

+  Sam to Dean: Holy shit. Did you know she could sing like that?!  +

+  Sam to Dean: You are so beyond screwed. I kinda hope she eats you alive after this.  +

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cry in’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby

Come on

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

I’m gonna shoot ya down Jesse James

The bar loses its collective shit.

There are hoot and hollers, shouts of “You OWNED that!” and a couple “Cher would be proud, honey!” along with lots of loud applause ringing out around you. You fight the heat rising in your cheeks, raising a hand in recognition and scurrying off the stage as fast as you can manage without looking too desperate.

All the nerves make you beeline for the restroom, stopped every couple feet from the stage by people who are congratulating you on an amazing, heartfelt performance. You nod and thank them for their kind words, hurrying to relieve your bladder.

When you exit the stall, Marcia is leaning against the sink closest to the door. A quick glance confirms the fact that she’s locked the door. Well so much for sneaking up on the witch…

You wash your hands calmly, taking the paper towel she offers as her mouth stretched into a wide, Cheshire grin.

“You were pretty damn good up there, Agent.” She taps a sunflower yellow nail against her chin thoughtfully. “Or should I say, Hunter?” You clench your jaw but say nothing, waiting and trying to formulate a plan. Other than one of the Winchesters were gonna get their ass handed to them for this little slip-up. “The others, they sang with the same emotion and depth you did. They were underappreciated. Not unlike myself. My coven didn’t appreciate the power I brought to the table. My mother didn’t think I was smart enough to run the family business. And my dear husband, well he didn’t love me how I should be loved. How you should be loved. The one with green eyes, the one who was flirting with the female bartender, oh, and the waitress when you all went to lunch. And let’s not forget the second guy’s ex - he doesn’t love you. Not how you want - or deserve. I simply want to remedy that.” She chuckles, pushing away from the sink and moving to block the exit.

“Y/N, you know I’m not the bad guy. He fucks every woman who will let him - and let’s face it - with those good looks, not many women are saying no. And every hookup, every smirk, smile and flirty line, they just end up as tiny wounds in your heart. I want him to feel that. To understand the ache you feel. That’s why I already left him a little present.”

“You can’t make people love you. You can’t make someone pay for something that happens a million times a day all over the world. Heartache happens. It’s what makes us human - that vulnerability, that need to be loved - and I will not let you hurt another person simply because you believe yourself to be in the right!” You’re moving forward before the last word tumbles from your lips, quickly chanting out a basic protection spell as you pull the gun and silencer from your back and put a single witch-killing bullet into her heart.

+  Y/N to Sam: Witch ganked. Paging Cas to get rid of the body. Meet me by Baby.  +

Cas answers your prayer quicker than usual, disappearing with her body less than a handful of seconds after you’d explained the situation. You exit the bathroom in a damn near sprint, rushing out into the chilly night air. Thank God, you’d shoved a pair of gloves into your front pocket!

Sam and Dean are leaning against the Impala as you yank the too-big gloves on, planting yourself firmly before Dean, hands sliding into his right inner jacket pocket.

“Y/N - what are you…” You don’t bother to answer Dean, moving to the outside pockets before sweeping your hands over his ass, your brow furrowed as he clears his throat. “What couldn’t wait to get your hands on me, Y/N??”

“Oh yes, Dean. Hexed dudes are so hot. Take me now.” Each word is dripping with sarcasm, rolling your eyes as your hands slip into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Really, Y/N? Like the hex bag is gonna be in there?” Sam gives a sharp whistle and you stop, looking up at the hex bag he’s dangling from the edge of his pocket knife.

“You ass! I thought you were in danger!”

“That why you gave my ass a firm squeeze when you were sifting through my empty pockets?” You want to punch him, you really do; a) because you didn’t think to squeeze that fine ass when you were rummaging through his pockets and b) you thought he was in danger and they both knew he wasn’t. You take a calming breath, tugging off the gloves and tossing them at Sam’s face.

“Well, I suppose you were right, Dean. Your jeans are pretty tight, but ya know, better safe than sorry.” You move around Sam and Dean, both standing there gaping at you. They knew your temper, how to rile you up. And normally you tended to take the bait. But after the whirlwind of emotion you’d been through today, in particular, you didn’t have it in you to play. Sliding into the back seat you wait for a few seconds before rolling the back window down. “We headed out to burn that thing or are you gonna stand there?”

—

The ride to the motel is quiet.

Sam makes quick work of burning the hex bag in the metal ice bucket, Cas popping in about twenty minutes later to hear the full details of the case. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, rinsing off the makeup and grittiness in the shower, and you let yourself cry a little too.

While the witch had been a crazed romance hating bitch, she’d been right. He’d never love you how you wanted. But you were also right - you couldn’t make Dean love you. And really, you wouldn’t want that. Dean had mentioned (once you had come to his room one night with your laptop open to a Supernatural fan site you had stumbled on) that Becky had given Sam a love spell, convinced him to marry her. That wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You blow dry your hair just to buy more time in case your eyes are still puffy. Exiting the bathroom, you’re more than a little surprised to see your packed duffle and purse on the bed closest to the door. Sam and Cas are missing, Dean leaning against the little partition wall by the door.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed anything for the drive home.”

“Just my headphones.” You reply, pulling them from your purse’s side pocket and tucking them into your sweatpants pocket before reaching for your bags.

“I got it.” Dean moves forward, hand out to take them from you.

“I already have them, Dean. Just please open the door. Is the trunk open?”

“Yeah, it’s open.” He leaves enough room for you to pass by, enough to be polite at least and slams the door shut behind him. You set your bags into the trunk, ignoring his little outburst. Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow as you settle into the back seat with Cas, giving him a cheery hello and thank you before shrugging at Sam. You pop in your headphones and stare out the window, about to let Josh Groban lull your too tired mind to sleep when the door is suddenly wrenched open, Dean’s big hands reaching inside to grab you. Letting out a startled squeak, you instinctively push his hands away, but he’s got a hell of a grip on your forearm. He pushes you a lot more gently that you thought he would up against the car, his lips brushing gently against your own.

You jerk away like you’ve been burned.

“What the fuck?!” You shout, Sam and Cas shooting out of the car. “Huh? First, you’ve been pissy flirty with me since that ghoul attack now you haul me out of the car and kiss me?!” Shoving at his chest, you search his face. Those candy apple green eyes bore into your own, the rest of his face melting from worried to contemplative to relaxed.

“I- I can’t lose you. I care about you. Maybe a little too much. That ghoul attack, it - it fucked me up. I just kept thinking, what if you died? There isn’t going to be any more damn underwear hanging all over the bathroom. No more getting up 2 in the morning to find you passed out in the library with a cold cup of tea on the table. No more never-ending movie quotes - half of them from movies I’ve never even seen.” His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear like you usually tend to. “Who else was gonna shed everywhere? I mean, you shed worse than Sam. Who else is gonna make me those tiny pies and snap at me when I eat most of them? Which, I stand by this, they are equal to one whole pie.”

“You shouldn’t be eating a whole pie either, Dean!” The fingers that just tucked the hair behind your ear move to brush over your cheek, a smile stretched across his face.

“You were right. I am sweet on you. Have been since day one. Didn’t succumb to any of my lines, any of my dazzling smiles or nicknames. Hell, the first couple times we hunted, you wouldn’t give me the time of day. And, well, I like a challenge.” Dean flashed an easy but knowing smile, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Whoa there.” You hear Sam chuckle behind you. “So, you think you get to be a dick to me for the last month but now I’m just going to fall into your arms? This isn’t a chick flick, even though I know you love them.”

“I don’t -”

“I’m not finished.” Dean straightened up at your sharp tone. You fisted your hands around the edges of his jacket, keeping him from pulling too far away. “I care about you too. And Sam. And Cas. I’ve been hunting since I was 22 and I’m pretty good at it.”

“I didn’t say -” You give him a pointed look, watching him close his mouth and huff.

“I don’t need you to protect me, but I do appreciate it when you guys have my back. We’ve all had close calls. I nearly bled out six years ago hunting a murderous Shedu. We’re hunters, Dean. My life isn’t guaranteed. But if you pull your head out of your ass, I will continue to leave my underwear hanging out to dry in the bathroom. And shed all over the clothes and you won’t complain because I’m the one doing the damn laundry.” You raise up a little on your feet, using your grip on Dean for balance. “I’ll consider making you pie once you’ve apologized to me properly. And you will never call me sweetheart ever again. Oh, and dial the overprotectiveness down a couple notches. If you let Claire hunt, you should -” Dean cut off the rest of your sentence with his lips. His arm moved as you two pulled away, those nice, big hands gripping the back of your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he lifted you up. “You think I’m just going to sleep with you now?!”

“We’ll see you in the morning!” Dean calls out happily, shifting so his arm was firmly under your ass so he could use his right hand to open the motel door. Dean is about to kick the door shut when you hear Sam holler for you, catching the door before it closed. He holds up your purse, dropping it onto the table before rushing from the room with the Impala keys clutched firmly in his hand. Dean drops you onto the bed, watching you bounce with a grin then moving to lock the door.

“Now that we’re all alone, I believe I need to apologize.” Dean begins, shrugging out of his jacket and flannel. You swallow, nodding as you watch him. He reaches behind him, grabbing hold of the dark gray material and pulling it over his head, revealing a wealth of freckled and scarred skin. His hands move down to his belt, smirking as he watches your eyes take him in. “Or maybe I’ll just do like you sang. Just go down in flames, since you already have me crying Indian and begging for more.”

“So, a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away, Jesse James?”

“Nope, I met my match.”

“Does that mean I won the fight?” You ask as he crawls over you, cupping his stupidly handsome face.

“Yeah, princess, you won.”

“Good. Then get ready for a long night of apologetic cuddling, Winchester.”

[solarbird]

The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 3: the waiting game

Yes, it's Wednesday, not Thursday, but Thursday this week is Second Thanksgiving, so I'm posting this a day early. ^_^

[AO3 link]

This chapter is pretty violent, so I'm putting it under a cut.

Oilliphéist wandered through the upper halls of the empty Château Guillard. So this is where the other half has been living, she thought, dreamily. It's nice. She danced through the halls, with their old, grey walls, and their old... no... it's not all grey, is it?

Hello, she thought, turning the corner. New paint! Not fresh, not wet - dry, with sealed canisters full of more, put away, for the moment, obviously to be used later, blue, blue like her blue, blue not entirely unlike her own blue, and she put her hand up on it, comparing the colours, smiling - not the same, but well paired.

I wonder if Talon would let us live together, now, she thought, smiling, still so light, so calm. Ah, it doesn't matter, does it? Moira will make sure they will.

Oh, this room's red! A library? An office? A bit of both, maybe? Most importantly, an actual laptop, obviously the spider's home system, and she rushed over towards it, feeling as though she was gliding, so smooth, so light.

Logged out, of course, and in standby, and she had no idea what the password might've been, though the login - Danielle Guillard - made her smile, again. I'll take this with me, she decided.

Turning, she looking around the room, catching the scent of her other half, and keened a little, missing her so much more now, so much more, and that's when she saw her face - an old picture, not blue, but pale pink, and not truly her spider, her weapon, but Amélie, Amélie with him, Gérard, and she snarled from memory, and ran over to the frame, grabbing it, You fool, you wretched idiot, she is mine now, and...

...she realised she didn't care. At least, not presently - only in memory. She'd been so... jealous? Was that the word? No. But something, and now nothing. That was new. She'd hated Gérard - not that she'd ever met him - for every reason and for none, and had cheered when Widowmaker had killed him, her first kill outside training, so beautiful... but now, he was nothing, and the memories faded to grey.

She looked at the frame again. A photograph of a dead man and a lost woman, that's all. Irrelevant to her, to her spider, to her mission, and she wondered why she still held the frame, and she put it back down, back where it had sat before she picked it up, only disturbed dust revealing it had been touched.

Footsteps. Boots. Heavy, coming from the wine cellar. Two groups, she could hear them, the sound bouncing off the walls differently, six in each. The sound of ammunition and belts and guns. A silent alarm, triggered by the picture? Or just by her presence in the room. It doesn't matter. But then, she thought, neither do they. Target practice!

She smiled, broadly, readied her rifle, and relocated herself to a better position, just to see what they'd do - and what they did was demand surrender and open fire, with very little time between, but she was no longer there, and she returned fire, anticipating their dodges, watching them run side to side in such obvious, predictable patterns, and she made a game of it - this one, shot through the left eye, this one, shot through the right, this one, the centre of the forehead, this one from above, the final two in group one, up close, a domino shot, temple to temple to temple to temple, and she laughed, joyously and freely, bathed in blood and wonder.

She didn't even notice the Talon insignia until she was halfway through the second six, and it cost her a moment, a moment of grace, and for that, she grew angry, and so, she left the last one alive, constraining, for the moment, her delight in deaths, as she stood over him, his spine broken, his legs useless, her fangs, her two sharp blades, at his neck, not even blessing him with gunfire.

"Why?" she asked, "were you such fools?" as she doodled with one blade's tip along his carotid artery, imagining the blood it would draw with just the slightest bit more pressure. "Were you looking for her? You would've fared no better."

"...Em?" said the Talon soldier, through a cough. "...Emily?"

Oilliphéist tilted her head just a little to the side. Emily? Oh, of course, Emily. Who she once was, who she still was, though she hadn't even thought the name since reawakening. "Ooooooh, I remember you! Sven, isn't it?" Her smile shifted, just a little. "How's the new ammo working out?" She looked around. "Oh. Not well, I suppose. But I guess that's mostly my fault."

"Emily, why, why do you look like Widowmaker, have you been..."

"Ah, ah, ah, that's not an answer." She poked him, just a bit, with the tip of the fang. "I liked you, Sven. You always took such care of your rifles and pistols, they'd come back so clean, so nicely kept. I'd hardly have to work on them at all. So... why all this?"

"We thought... we thought you were her. Orders are to secure and kill or capture."

"Oooh, an upgrade for you, too? Orders-wise, at least? Last I heard, it wasn't a search, it was just... on opportunity."

"We're, we were supposed to beat anyone else to her."

Oooooh, very interesting, she thought. "So you don't know where she is either, then?"

"No, we don't. Em, please... Let me patch myself up, I'll say we attacked you first, that I'm sorry, it was our fault..."

"Oh, no, it's fine, Sven, I don't mind at all - it was an honest mistake," she reassured him, just before she sliced through his neck, and cleaned her blade, watching the blood pool so elegantly along the grout of the stonework, spreading everywhere as his eyes stilled and lost their sight. "Don't worry. Rest, now." She patted his head, and closed his eyes. "I'll find her. And I'll bring her home."

-----

"Wait, love - you're telling me... she's... your template? What's that mean?"

"It means," said the Widowmaker, "that they did not create me out of whole cloth. They... borrowed. They found what they wanted elsewhere, and copied it. From her, came my love of the kill. Amongst other things."

"So you're ... her, but turned up?"

"Oh, no. That part of me is her... but turned down. I cannot even imagine what she would be like, with that turned up."

Tracer shook her head, trying to imagine that, but not quite getting there. "And yet, somehow, she was," she gestured with her hands in no particular direction, "functional? And your lover."

"I was designed not to feel anything, except joy at kills. But... it was not always entirely so, and I realised, that was towards other people. In part - in this - she is not another person, she is me. Or, I suppose... I am her. And I could feel for her, because she was myself, and so I did."

Tracer thought it out. Wow, she thought. No wonder they didn't think of it. Who would? "So that's what..." She looked at the empty wine bottle next to the bed, leftover from last night. "That's what broke the seal, then. Freed the cork."

Widowmaker nodded, amused by the reference. "And it grew more difficult over time to pretend it had not happened. With her, I did not need to contain myself - not in my love of the kill, not in anything. With her, I could be free. And once I knew what she wanted, I arranged my best plan to make it happen, as a gift. Once she came for me, I'd planned to..." she struggled for words," ...return the favour, and help her herself the same way I freed myself. But if they have changed their methods..."

"Then it won't work. And you're just a defector, and she's coming after you, and that's all it's gonna be."

"Do not misunderstand, Lena Oxton. I love her. Differently - and more - than I love you. And she loves me still, I'm sure."

"Someone like that can love? Really love?"

"Yes. I am someone like that, and you already know I have found myself... burdened with love for you."

"Blimey, you're a romantic. Swept me off my feet with that. But..." She looked intently at her bedmate. "F'real? It's not just an act, anymore? I couldn't tell for sure if you'd actually started feelin' something or if it was just a whole lot better acting, but it felt like y'did."

Widowmaker blinked, stunned. "You... knew?"

Tracer shrugged. "It's not like we both don't like t'take a bit of pressure off, and hate sex is great sex." She smirked, and didn't bother to bring up Prague; she didn't need to. Neither of them would be forgetting. "And hey, the chance to pull a top agent out of Talon? I'll take that."

Damn you, thought the assassin, a little spike of anger flashing across her face. "And you have been making a fool of me. For... what? Information? Infiltration?"

"Somethin' like that. At least," she stressed, and paused, "...until everything shifted about six weeks ago and suddenly I didn't have t'fake it anymore." She wore a soft half-smile while looking into her lover's eyes, "That's about when it changed for you, too, innit?"

Yes, the Widowmaker thought, in shock, as her mind reeled. Damn you, yes. She shook her head. "I... I'd had no idea... I feel so..."

"Betrayed? Angry? Used? Funny comin' from you, love, you were doin' the same th..."

"Relieved!" the assassin cried. She leaned forward, and grabbed Lena Oxton around the shoulders, pulling the two of them together. "I am so... relieved." She started to shake a little, shaking that slowly turned into laughter. "We have both been horrible and terrible and manipulative of each other, and doing it so badly that we have both been caught in our own idiotic webs..." And she couldn't say any more through the giggles, because what fools, what fools they both are, and Lena found herself laughing with her, and they leaned on each other, laughing until tears fell.

"Oh, we're a bloody train wreck, you and me, aren't we?" said Lena, once she had her voice again.

"Yes," said the Widowmaker, wiping the last tear from her left eye, and she leaned forward, and kissed Tracer, gently. "We are a large jumble of wreckage strewn across the tracks, and Talon, I'm afraid, is sending another train."

"You really do love her?"

"I do. She has everything she's ever wanted, now, but it will not be enough - she'll want me, too. And I still want her, just as much."

"Well," sighed Lena. "She saw you first. You're both just lucky I've never been the jealous type."

"Perhaps, if we're very lucky - that might even help us both survive."

"But if she's a killing machine..."

"I am a killing machine."

"If she's a killing machine who can't put a bleedin' lid on it..."

Widowmaker chortled. "Yes."

"Then how's this gonna work?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

[ask-the-phan-site]

Phan Cam: A. Nigma of the School

>A. Nigma High School. Even though we’re just standing in front of it, we can already feel the mysterious vibe coming off of it.

Spirit said he’ll be waiting for us in detention hall. Wherever that is.

Finding it won’t be easy. This school is different from the ones we’re normally used to. Plus, we have that to worry about.

>Yusuke was pointing at some strange looking people in white.

...

Are we going to be okay here?

Not to worry, I have this. Straight from the desk of Max Modell. A message to Principal Gerneral W. Barrage allowing us to come to the school to seek out students would like to transfer to Horizon High.

>We go inside the school. The weirdness was stronger than ever. Even though a lot of things looked a bit normal. We go inside the principal’s office. Even this Barrage guy was an odd character just by looking at him. He takes the message and exams it carefully.

... APPROVED!

For real!? You’d do this?

Barrage: I’ve met Modell from time to time and I’m willing to give his idea a chance!

Thank you. I’m sure Max will appreciate it. In fact, there’s a student here at this school we’d like to interview first. Lee Ping.

Barrage: Ping!? You’ll find him and his little hooligan friends in detention hall in the basement! ... Here’s a map.

>He hands us a map and we go well on our way. After a while, we found the detention hall in the basement. We came in and the first thing we noticed was...

Zzz...

Uh. Hello?

???: Don’t bother.

>We turned.

The guy’s pretty much gone at this point.

Really? How come?

Lee: ... It’s a long story. Right now, Chaz Monerainian is our bigger concern.

Oh! Ve’re finally going to do ze Phantom Zeiving!

Hold it, Holger. We don’t know if we’re going with them.

Actually, we don’t mind if you want to help us. From what I’ve heard, Biffy kun, you’re good with communications. I think you and Futaba might work together fine you would.

Futaba: She’s got a point.

Listen to the chiquita, Biffy. These guys are professionals.

What did you just call Haru?

>Camillio was a little intimidated by Makoto’s glare.

Lee: (quickly) Okay, let’s just check the school new. It should be on by now.

>Biffy takes out his laptop and accesses the school’s website.

Hello, A. Nigma High! I’m Chaz Monarainian.

And I’m Tina Kwee. We’re here to give you the latest at our school. First off-

Chaz: On to Chaz’s Corner!

Tina: I don’t know, Chaz. Isn’t it a little early to-

Chaz: Yeah, yeah, that’s nice, Tina. Anyway, on to our main story.

I can see what the request meant. This guy’s really of himself. He keeps cutting her off.

Chaz: We just received word that eight representatives of Horizon High School (nine if you count their cat) have come here to scout for anyone who is interested in joining their school. I know I might like to try.

Tina: (groaning) Do you even know anything about science?

Chaz: I have a cousin in New York who went to Osborn Academy. How hard could it be?

>Tina just facepalms herself.

Makoto: I feel sorry for her.

Biffy: Did he say you have a cat?

Finally! I thought you guys forgot about me.

Biffy: (gasping with starry eyes) You do have a kitty!

Ren: This is Morgana. And I take you like cats.

Mew!

Biffy: Looks like Mrs. Rumplekittykat likes him... Does Mogana have a mate yet?

Hell no! I already have eyes for Lady Ann.

He says he’s not interested.

Lee: He’s right. Besides, didn’t she already have kittens?

Biffy: You never know.

>Just then, the door slams open and two people come in. One of which is very furious.

Camillio: Vaya, chica. Sabemos que estás molesto.

Tina: Upset doesn’t even cover it! I can’t believe Chaz blew me off like that again!

Better calm your girlfriend, Lee, before she tears the place up.

Lee: Right... By the way, how... On second thought, never mind, it’s you after all. Of course you knew we would be here.

Serpent: Well, it is your place here at school even though you don’t have detention anymore.

Lee: Gotta find someplace we can meet without Barrage or the Cleaners listening in. And we all know Sleeping Ugly over there won’t say anything.

>He was pointing at the sleeping teacher.

Serpent: Be nice to the man. We don’t know if he’ll ever wake up again.

Tina: Alright, we made you Phantom Thieves famous for helping the school with Horizon High, you better return the favor.

Relax, lady. We can do this.

Makoto: We already checked the Nav with Chaz Monerainian. He has a Palace here at this school. Now we just need to know what he sees this school as.

Camillio: The Nav? Oh, that’s what Lee talked about.

Akechi: Yes. To take us to the Metaverse, we need to give the Metaverse Navigator who are target is, a place that the target hold significance to, and what the target sees the place as.

Ryuji: We have the who and the where. Now we need the what.

Tina: If that’s it, I guess we can help with that.

Biffy: My first guest would be a TV station since everyone in his family are pretty much reporters.

Ren: Let’s try it.

>I enter what Biffy said into the Nav.

Nav: Conditions have not been met.

Tina: I guess that would be a bit too obvious.

Futaba: It’s got to be someplace that fits his ego. Maybe a temple.

Nav: Conditions have not been met.

Camillio: How about a circus since media is kind of like that.

Nav: Conditions have not been met.

Holger: How about a zearter?

Ryuji: Zearter?

Serpent: I do believe he means theater.

Lee: Chaz is also a member of the drama club and plays the lead often.

Nav: Condition have not been met.

This is going to be tougher than I thought.

Serpent: If you like, I do have resources that could help us determine what his Palace is.

Makoto: At this point, we’re out of options. I guess.

Serpent: Good... Because I already did it.

>He takes out his phone. It was a recording of Chaz in his home talking to himself in the mirror.

Chaz: Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

Are you serious?

Chaz: I am so well loved in that school. It’s almost like being in a fairy tale. Now if only that Tina Kwee wouldn’t be such a hater.

Serpent: Shall we try? It sound like fairy tale is just a good an answer.

>We all agreed and Serpent enters the keyword.

Nav: Results found.

Lee: Do I even want to know why you have cameras there?

Serpent: (annoying laugh) Not really.

Ryuji: So, let’s get going in.

Holger: Oh, can ve go in, too?

Tina: That’s right. I’m a bit curious about this Metaverse. Don’t worry, I won’t talk about it on the news.

Ann: Are you sure? It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen.

Lee: We’ve fought an evil cult, clones, weird robots, monsters, and of course, a cybernetic principal. I think that about this time, there’s nothing left to scare us.

Tina: Except that classes are about to start.

Lee: Oh, right. It’ll wait after school.

Ren: Good. We’ll be waiting. In the meantime, we’ve got some students to interview.

>After almost a whole day, school was over for the day. We were waiting in front of the school.

Ren: Okay, what have we got.

Ann: Let’s see. Two older guys called the 15th Graders seem to be interested. They have a lot of experience in shop class. A couple of Skaters also seem interested. There’s also the Dudes of Darkness, the Tree Huggers, an Outcast named Deuce Markowitz, the entire Genius Club, and even a Glamazon who wishes to remain anonymous.

If it’s Kimmie McAdams, she’s definitely not in.

Ryuji: Yeah, I heard she’s a total bitch... Maybe we should go after her after this.

Morgana: We’ll have to discuss it later. Here come the Detentionaires.

>The others came.

Okay! Ve’re ready!

What the!? Why are you in that!?

Lee: Because... He’s Holger. It’s what he does.

So he’s the positive type. That’s good.

Holger: Yes. And yet, not many people in school vant to hang out with Holger.

So is everyone ready?

Everyone: Ready!

Ren: Then let’s go.

Nav: Beginning navigation.

>A red wave passes us and the school was replaced by a fairy tail forest that has more of a sinister feeling to it.

(Insert song: You in Wonderland)

Tina: (a bit amazed) Wow.

(laughing a bit) Looks like you weren’t kidding about not being surprised.

Biffy: But I am amazed that you can talk... RKK, can you talk here too?

Rumplekittykat: Mew!

Biffy: (disappointed) I guess not.

Well, there aren’t many like Mona. That’s for sure.

Tina: So this is the world in Chaz’s heart. He thinks this school is some kind of fairyland where he’s king.

Then we’ll just have to dethrone him.

It’s not the first time we took down a king and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last.

Let’s take a look around.

Spirit: (will be called that while we’re in the Metaverse) Right. Everyone, stay close together... You especially stay close to me, Tina.

Tina: I’m not sure whether I should be flattered that you want to protect me or insulted that you think I can’t defend myself... But I guess I can stay close just in case.

>We venture into the Palace. It really does look like something out of a fairy tale.

Oracle: It looks like I’m picking something up. Look over there.

>We happen across what looks like a wanted poster on a sign.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: Tina Kwee

Crime: For going up against our most glorious king.

Tina: (really angry) That jerk!

Hold on. It looks like there’s something under here.

>I lift the poster and see something carved on the sign.

Joker: Fox, can I borrow some paper and pencil?

Here. What is it?

Joker: We’ll see.

>I place the paper on the sign and begin rubbing the tip of the pencil on it. Then, an image appeared on it.

It looks like this sign is a map.

It is! Well done, Joker.

Camillio: Okay, homes. Can we get out of here? I get the feeling that-

>Suddenly, an arrow is shot. Luckily, it missed Camillio by an inch. It was shot by a Shadow that looked like Robin Hood.

Shadow: Stand and deliver, knaves! For our glorious King Chaz!

Crow: I’ve never known a Robin Hood who would say that.

Shadow: Never mind that. You have in your company, Public Enemy Number 1.

>He was pointing at Tina.

Tina: Over my dead body!

Shadow: So be it. The kind did say dead or alive.

Oracle: We already know this guy’s weak to Electricity and Curse attack. Joker, Skull, it’s your time.

Joker: Good. It’s been awhile since Arsene was out. Let’s see if he’s still got it. Persona!

Skull: Persona!

Queen: I’ll help as well. Persona!

Spirit: I’ll go, too. Persona!

>Spirit summons his Persona, Tokebi.

Oracle: Here come the buffs! Persona!

>Necronomicon boosts our stats. Archangel uses Psi on Spirit. He dodges it. Arsene uses Eiga. It knocks him down.

Joker: Let’s do this!

>After the attack, Archangel is still up. Captain Kidd uses Zionga. It knocks Archangel down again. He don’t do an All-Out-Attack this time and Captain Kidd uses Assault Dive. Tokebi uses Dream Needle. It didn’t put him to Sleep this time. Johanna uses Flash Bomb. It made him Dizzy. Archangel comes back up. He tries to attack us with Vajra Blast. Luckily, because he was Dizzy, the attack wasn’t very strong. Arsene uses Giant Slice. It was strong because of the boost and that Archangel was Dizzy. Captain Kidd uses Assault Dive again. Then, Tokebi uses Zionga. It knocks him down.

Spirit: Alright, let’s pile on!

>After the attack, the Shadow was gone.

Spirit: Wasn’t that tough.

Tina: I can’t believe they would do this because of me.

Serpent: You can still back out of this if you wish.

Biffy: Heck no. We still want to help.

Holger: Lee of Ping is our friend. We want to go help him.

Crow: Alright. But when the heist execution happens, we ask that you stay behind. We need someone to keep an eye on Chaz and it might get much too dangerous.

Camillio: No hay problema, hombre. We’ll make sure everything’s fine.

Joker: Alight, then it’s settled. We’ll do this.

>We all agreed and leave the Palace for now.

>We’ll be back for the Treasure.