#Once again Annabelle is NOT a minor

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 42

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: As always, thank you for your lovely support! It's almost midnight here, I've been editing for six hours (oh God) and finally had to call it a day even if it ain't perfect. I hope you enjoy the result! Please consider leaving a comment and tell me your thoughts! What do you think will happen next? :)

Slight TRIGGER WARNING for minor mentions like in previous chapters.

Chapter 42

A big big big day

His gift wasn’t among the others. Haymitch turned the presents over. Those big enough to qualify. Squeezed one here, shook one there, holding on to hope that Effie or June or Annabel had signed the delivery while he was passed out.

No such luck. Course not.

Should’ve called the shop sooner.

He ran a tired hand through his hair and poured himself a shaky cup of coffee.

For someone who considered gifts overrated – unless they consisted of food or clothes maybe – he was pretty bloody bummed out about the whole thing. Silly, yeah but … he really wanted the twins to have it and have it on the right day.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. The post office in Eleven was famously slow, according to Annabel.

He was halfway through his cup of joe when the front door opened.

Annabel, smiling and carrying the topnotch chocolate cake. And in her wake, Effie. With one birthday child on each hip.

God, was she pretty! Prettier than usual, if that was even possible. With the strawberry dress gone – thanks to a certain retired mentor – she wore a white and pink plaid dress. A wide skirt just brushing her kneecaps, spaghetti straps and a large flat bow at the side of her waist.

Her hair was gathered in a ponytail for a change. Pink ballet flats. No “yank friendly” jewelry around her neck. No lipstick or lipgloss either. She gave that up after the twins were born since she kissed it all off on them anyway. Around her ankle: a simple silver bracelet. Simple but beautiful.

Yeah, she was gonna kill him for sure.

Amy wore pink too. Pink with ruffles. No matching bow or ribbons though. Even if she’d had any hair to speak of, the little girl would not stand for it.

Her mother had gone and dusted off one of her own princess dresses, by the looks of it, in honor of today. A toned down, less outlandish one but still – definitely more Capitol than district. He counted four different shades of pink. Posy would have loved it.

Ian on the other hand looked just about ready for District 4, dressed up in a little sailor’s outfit. White and dark blue with boats printed on the chest.

Silly ol’ Effs.

She wasn’t usually that all consumed by the whole “pink for girls, blue for boys” ideal. At least not anymore. But even she couldn’t help herself sometimes.

He had to hand it to her though – if this was Capitol it was Capitol low key. He’d seen toddlers back in the old city who looked more like fashion accessories than actual human beings. And sure, Effie wasn’t above wrestling Haymitch into gaudy outfits but she always went easy on the twins. Just like she went easy on Alexander, when she was but a girl herself.

Quite telling, if you thought about it. What kind of person she was at the core.

And contrary to popular belief, Effie preferred the district look for her kids. How was that for ironic? And the clothes he wore as a baby and toddler? Shit, she treasured them like they were truffles – the rarest, most (would be) expensive ingredient Sae used in her cooking, once in a blue moon.

Each night before bed, Effie laid out the children’s clothes for tomorrow and make no mistake! Unless they were currently peed in, pooped at or covered in baby spit-up, she always chose something of his.

“What is it with you and these rags?” he once asked her back in Twelve, while he helped Amy into a patched up romper the color of porridge. “Seriously. Capitol Effie would have shuddered. Called them poor man’s gear. Washcloth outfits.”

“I would not!” Effie protested from the other side of the bed, working the mismatched buttons of Ian’s playsuit. “District Vintage, maybe. And these aren’t rags! Don’t call them that! You know how special they are to me.”

“Why?”

She lifted Ian up. Held him close. With her cheek against the top of his head, she glanced over at Haymitch like he was the biggest idiot in all of Panem.

“Because you are!” she said. “Special. Something you really should know by now. I had your love children, for crying out loud. You’d think that if anything would be a tip off. And every time I see Amy or Ian wearing something you wore, it’s like I get a little echo of you. The child you once were. And since I don’t have any baby pictures of you, this is the second best thing. Well”, she added after a moment’s pause. A smile curved her lips. “Except for the twins themselves. Because of course they’d come out looking exactly like you. That’s just my usual luck.”

“Luck or curse”, Haymitch replied. Amy yawned as he lifted her from the bed. “There we go, baby.” He rested her against the side of his chest, her head on his shoulder. “They have your hair”, he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Mm. Only proof we’ve got that you didn’t actually make them all on your own.”

She never made the connection. Between the clothes and his kid brother. So obvious and yet, the lights never came on.

It was alright though. Really. Sure, he always felt a little pinch every time he saw the kids in Amadeus’s clothes. But not as much anymore. Not as the months passed.

Yeah. By some miracle, that particular gash got to scab over. Become a scar. Tender to the touch yes, but not bleeding, festering.

As time wore on he started to associate the clothes not only with his dead brother and dead mother but with Amy and Ian as well. That was one big reason for it. Plus Amadeus would’ve loved it if he knew that his niece and nephew spent their days dressed in his old stuff.

And Sae – that sharp-eyed ol’ busybody – she much have known this. Predicted his change of heart, or else she never would have given the clothes to Effie in the first place.

When the twins were still newborns he thought Effie might break out Alexander’s old clothes for them. The precious few garments she still had of her stars and butterflies and lady bugs baby after that prick Kane burned the rest or whatever.

But she never did. Too painful. And, obviously, he steered clear off the subject since she wasn’t ready to deal with any of that. Perhaps she never would be.

The reality of that heart-breaking situation only made it easier for him to let her have a field day with “his” old rags. Sorry, his special rags.

You couldn’t be flint-hearted with Effie anyway. Her over the moon excitement. You got to be pretty fucking cruel to take that away. Especially after she blessed you with two children.

Oh God. She’s gonna hold that over my head forever!

Little echoes. Special because you are special. Yeah, he could see what she meant by that. If he reversed their positions in his head.

After she bought the house from June and Annabel and the last of their moving vans had left for District 11 – they arranged for her things to be brought back in. Effie had donated a lot of the furniture to vintage and charity shops when she lost her home but some were kept in storage. As were most of her personal belongings. Like, for instance, the piles upon piles of little kiddie clothes.

Not Alexander’s. Effie’s own.

Now, Haymitch didn’t consider himself a sentimental guy. But when he first got a load of those silly little outfits he was almost overcome with tenderness and affection. As if a kitten – Scotch maybe – just rolled over in his chest, flexing his tiny claws.

They were just so small and so ridiculous.

Princess-pink, primrose yellow, spring green and pale shades of purple like a lilac branch. Effie’s ma and pa had stockpiled the stuff like they had ten kids instead of one. Either they planned on producing a shitload of offspring or they lived by the notion that even a newborn’s outfit was to be worn only once.

“Oh, haha! Look at these!” Effie had chuckled over by the couch, holding out a pair of the tiniest high heeled baby shoes you ever saw. White with black dots and red on the inside. “I forgot I even had them. Say what you will about me, Haymitch. I had style. Right from the very beginning.”

“Yeah, totally”, he said, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes. “But those Haute Couture diapers were a waste on you. You just soiled them 24-7.”

Effie chuckled and placed the little shoes back in the box. Reached for a soft pink hooded romper instead. Velvet, by the look of it. Patterned with raspberry colored hearts.

“My parents always knew they wanted to have children”, she said. “Especially my mother. She had this romantic scenario in her head that she would be blessed with a baby on her wedding night. Or maybe even more than one. Twins run in my family, did I ever tell you?”

“Noo. Really?”

She brushed the soft fabric against her cheek. “Mama was so disappointed when it didn’t happen at the drop of a hat. They ended up trying for years to get pregnant. You know, the old-fashioned way.”

“What other ways are there?”

Effie smiled.

“Well, I for one am an IVF baby.”

 “A what?”

“IVF. In vitro fertilization. Hospital procedure. They removed one of my mother’s eggs and mixed it together with my father’s sperm. So, unlike you or Katniss or Peeta I was first on a lil’ petri dish.”

Haymitch grinned.

“Created in a lab. I should have known.”

“Just the embryo, silly! Which was then implanted into my mother’s womb. I was carried and born like any other baby. Took a few tries though. Like … half a dozen eggs or so. My father’s juices weren’t too great. It drove my mother halfway up the wall. The hormone injections she had to take.”

“Yeah, well.” Haymitch gave a light shrug. “It was worth the wait.”

Effie looked up from the romper, an amused glint in her eyes.

“Is that your way of saying you feel fortunate to have me in your life?”

“Is there any other way to put it? The way I see it, I got a pretty decent deal out of it. Three for the price of one.”

Effie chuckled and tossed a pair of baby socks his way.

“You darling you.” She folded the romper neatly and placed it in the “let’s keep” pile on the couch. “So, what do we do with all this? I mean, some we can use but the rest? Do we give it away or …?”

“Nah, too cruel. I vote that we keep ‘em. As a memory. A timestamp. ‘Effs Trinket – The early years’.”

In the end though, even the things they did keep – they hardly ever used. Not only were the clothes hella impractical to get on and off. They were also a pain to wash correctly. Shrunk super easily – especially with Haymitch in charge – and 80 % of it had to be hand washed anyway, if you didn’t want the colors to bleed.

Annabel set the birthday cake on the garden table. The soft clink pulled Haymitch out of his reverie. Amy’s eyes landed on June and the one year old instantly held her arms out with a firm whine. The blonde woman’s face brightened and the little girl soon climbed from her mother’s arms and into her auntie June’s.

The sight pinched Haymitch’s chest, immediately bringing on a self-insult.

Grow up. What’s wrong with people lovin’ them?

Nothing. Nothing at all. But he couldn’t help it. It hurt. Hurt that his daughter’s first impulse was to go to June and not him.

Annabel’s wife may have a hard time dealing with him as of late but she adored his children. They both did.

Ian was still with Effie. His little fist keeping a firm grasp on one of her dress straps.

Haymitch ached to hold him. Hug the crap out of him and seek some comfort in his softness and warmth and sweet baby smell.

But Effie wouldn’t want him to. He knew without her saying it. She didn’t trust him with them yet. Not when he was still so hangover he couldn’t even stomach a slice of birthday cake without puking on the lawn.

He downed the last of his coffee. He was going to need a lot of the stuff to get him through today. All the while, ignoring how much better it would taste with a drop or three of hard liquor.

His eyes kept returning to June, holding his daughter. Annabel said something about “sugar dream cookies” and turned for the house but her wife hardly noticed, absorbed as she was by his little girl. She tickled her tummy and the child giggled and squirmed in her embrace.

It was all he could do not to yank his kid out of her arms and yell something like “Get your own!!”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he turned and poured himself some more coffee.

She’s not taunting me on purpose.

It wasn’t June’s fault that he was a stinking hot mess who couldn’t do a thing right. Not even when his kids had a birthday.

June and Annabel had been some of the first to ever meet the twins. Even before Katniss and Peeta. Annabel at the hospital. June, a few days later.

“Want me to bring you anything?” she asked over the phone and Effie said, quick as a flash:

“Coffee. Please, a bucket of it!”

Black. Just the way she liked it. Along with some homemade cheesecake, courtesy of June.

He remembered the way her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree seeing Amy and Ian, sound asleep against Effie’s bosom. That’s where the twins liked it best, especially since their so called father was still too freaked to hold them.

“Oh, I want two myself”, Annabel had smiled, her brown eyes shiny. “Two just like them.”

“Well, don’t look at me”, Haymitch said, stretched out on the hard leather couch. “This factory’s closed.”

Effie and Annabel exchanged a look and they both chuckled.

“That’s unfortunate”, the latter said.

They were just joking around of course. And lucky him. Because after everything the two ladies had done for his family, he’d be hard-pressed to refuse.

For some reason, he never gave it much thought at the time, but seeing June with Amy just now … It got him wondering.

Why didn’t June and Annabel have any children themselves?

Sure, you could be fond of kids and great with them and still choose to be child-free. Happy to be just “mom’s fun friend” – or “mom’s wacko friend” if you were say Johanna Mason.

But June and Annabel, they seemed like the type who’d want a baby of their own. And they’d been together for like forever.

In the districts, there were of course only two ways you could have a kid. Cum shot or adoption. But, as Effie’d told him, in the Capitol – things worked differently when it came to fertility and conception. And being in a same-sex relationship with no immediate sperm producer in the household didn’t make it that much harder either. Not if you had money.

People sold their semen for cash in the big city. The hospital even made ads about it, urging people to contribute. Hell, guys like Priapus took pride in having fathered half the nation one cup at a time – to hear him tell it at least. And if you had a few eggs to spare and wanted to trade them in for the latest handbag, you needed only book an appointment.

So if June and Annabel wanted to make an omelette, they had options.

Maybe they can’t have kids.

Annabel’s story earlier. Her struggles with food. Maybe starving herself had done something to her menstrual cycle? He was no expert. Far from it. But he remembered a conversation he overheard at the Hob once. Between old Cray and some other peacekeeper.

“At the end of the day”, the full-fledged bastard said, “what you want is a real skintight lass. The flow doesn’t go over barren land, if you know what I mean?”

As for June … He couldn’t say he knew a lot about the woman. She was no open book. Not with him and especially not lately. If anything, she was the quiet, observing type. A bit like himself, maybe.

The only really private piece of information he had about her came from someone else. Plutarch. Who never knew when to shut up.

Haymitch were out grocery shopping for a very pregnant Effie and ran into him on the way back. The man had just returned after a prolonged stay in District 7. Apparently they were shooting the pilot of some wildlife documentary that the former Head Gamemaker pitched for Capitol TV. The first of 12 planned episodes. One season per district, starting in the vast woodlands with its mountain lions and coyotes and river otters. Haymitch remembered because of how much the whole project would have annoyed Johanna.

“Panem et Circenses”, Plutarch said with a land out like Whatcha gonna do? “We have to find new and exciting ways to entertain the audience. Now that the Hunger Games are a thing of the past.”

As for Effie, and her precarious situation – he knew all about it of course. Just like everyone else in town.

Haymitch, standing there in the heat with his full bags of soy milk and brussels sprouts, brown rice and melting ice cream just wanted to get the hell out of dodge but there was no stopping Plutarch Heavensbee once he got going. That man sure loved the sound of his own voice.

“… and ah, yes the Summers. Good people. All of them. I’m friends with her father”, he said. “Great polo player! A real blue-ribbon champion during his time at the University. Shame what happened to his family! Such a tragedy! They wanted a second child, you see. A boy this time. So badly. And when they were finally blessed with another pregnancy, his wife suffered a late-term miscarriage when June was about 16. Little Otho Summer Jr. Oh! An awful, bloody affair. Then some emergency surgery and … that’s that. No more children. Poor man. Was never the same.”

Complications during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum were not uncommon back in Twelve. Before the war. Especially among the starving families of the Seam. Thank God they had Sae and Tessa Everdeen but even in their expert hands mothers and babies were lost during Snow’s long reign.

“It’s a gamble at best”, Chaff once said, when they got to talking about it. “Not a month goes by in Eleven without us hearing the hammer blows of a coffin being made. A coffin meant for two.”

Haymitch remembered this one family. A young girl who broke off her engagement after her ma went through a really bloody labor, stretching out over three whole days. In the end, Sae managed to save both mother and child but the damage was already done.

Now, he saw no reason worth shit why you’d ever want to get married and have kids in a place like Twelve in a world like Snow’s. Some agreed with him on that note. Others didn’t. In this young woman’s case there was definitely a “before” and “after”.

Sae even had a name for it.

Tokophobia. Morbid fear of childbirth.

Maybe that was the case with June?

“Would you look at that”, Effie whispered, cheek against Ian’s temple. The words pulled Haymitch out of his depressing thoughts for a second time.

His son and baby mama were admiring Annabel’s cake.

“With a teddy for a candle”, Effie smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Just like Little Bear in the bedtime story we read at night. You remember Little Bear, my darling? But oh, we forgot the matches! You can’t blow the candle out and make a wish if not first we light it. Come baby, let’s set you down for a bit while I go look for them. Want to play with your letter blocks?”

She settled their son on the picnic blanket. The one under the apple tree. Kissed his soft, downy head a second time and turned for the house. Squeezed Annabel’s shoulder in passing when the brunette re-appeared with the plate of cookies and a jug of water and cucumber slices.

Haymitch watched as Effie bounded up the front steps and was gone.

She’s stressed out of her mind.

No question about it. She hid it but he could always tell. Recognized that stiff upper lip from the Games, covered behind bright smiles and weird exclamations like “You two are in for a treat! Crystal chandeliers, platinum doorknobs.”

As if the Games weren’t bad enough. With Haymitch Abernathy on your “team”, Effie had her work cut out for her. Because of him, her attention was constantly split. Pretty much since day one and especially in the last few years prior to Katniss and Peeta’s Games.

Her mind was in a constant state of, “Time to get them both on the train and where’s Haymitch? How many drinks has he had?” or “Let’s get these children ready for their interviews and where’s Haymitch? How drunk is he now?”

Yeah, he was little more than added stress on her shoulders.

Same thing now.

But I’m not drunk today. Haven’t had a drink since last night. What’s she thinking I’m gon’ do? Get wasted right in front of my kids?

He thrust the thought from his mind. He had exactly zero right to be annoyed today.

Instead, his gaze went to Ian sitting by himself on the blanket. Haymitch set his cup on an empty spot on the garden table and turned for June. June and Amy.

“Mind if I take a balloon? For the kid. I don’t know how to work that thing.” He nodded toward the container.

June eyed him with those green orbs, then nodded.

“Sure. Help yourself.”

With no knife at his disposal, June’s killer double knots were a challenge. Ian watched his struggles and each time the branches rustled overhead, a giggle rose from under it.

Haymitch allowed himself a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh at your old man.”

He worked the knot loose and extricated the balloon from the tree. Orange. Like Effie’s hair. Once upon a long time ago.

“Here. Got something for ya.”

He crouched before his son, keeping a firm hold on the end of the string. But he was a little too quick about it, wobbled and slumped back on his ass. Tiny black dots swam across his field of vision. Like specks of dust from a fire.

Ian’s round gray eyes followed his every move. Forcing his lips upward, Haymitch struggled to regain his balance. Swallowed a flood of saliva against the summersaults his stomach made.

Please. Not here. Not now.

Feeling the cool grass underneath his palm he breathed slowly through his nose. And he was in luck. For once. The nausea subsided. The ringing as well. His vision cleared, leaving him with goose bumps all over and stinging armpits.

With shaky hands he tied the balloon string around Ian’s wrist.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

The boy shook his arm eagerly. Gave a breathy grin when the balloon bobbed.

Haymitch caressed his hair. His chubby cheek. Reached for the silver baby rattle next, a old gift of Annabel’s, and struggled to his feet with the gracefulness of someone twice his age.

The rattle found a home in Amy’s hand. He gave her strawberry hair a soft caress, just like he did Ian. His eyes went to her auntie.

“I’ll get you a balloon too if you want. Or … maybe a coffee?”

The woman drew a deep sigh.

“Fine”, she said, slightly less up in arms.

Back at the table he poured another cup. Added some cream and sugar. Behind him the front door opened. Effie with the matches no doubt. He set the hot fragrant peace offering in June’s hand. Contemplated if he actually remembered all the verses of “Happy Birthday” when his gaze dropped to Ian again.

He had but ten seconds to see it before Effie did.

The sight closed his throat up, like someone actually kept a choke hold on him. His hand flew to his back pocket, confirming what his eyes were already telling him.

The hipflask.

In his son’s hands.

Ian’s chubby baby fingers grazed against the scratched silver surface while he explored the corked up lid with his mouth. Chewing on it like he did everything.

Haymitch’s feet were already moving but it was too late.

“No!” The shriek escaping Effie’s lips made them all start. She was by Ian’s side in a heartbeat. Pulled him from the ground so fast that Haymitch’s knot unravelled and the balloon floated into the sky. Up and gone.

The boy was bawling, startled by his mother’s sudden cry. Effie clutched him to her chest, holding the hipflask a meter away.

“You brought this to the party?” she spat at Haymitch. “How could you? Take this revolting thing away from the children this instant!”

[bananaofswifts]

4/ STARS by Annabel Nugent

The Swiftie fatigue should’ve set in by now. The pop star, 33, is everywhere: she is re-recording old albums and releasing them periodically while also on a very sold-out, very publicised world tour, clips of which circulate hourly on social media. And yet, still fans awaited Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) with the same heady anticipation as if it were a release from an elusive artist who seldom puts out music, not pop’s hardest-working star.

It’s the third of six albums that Swift is re-recording in order to take legal control of her back catalogue. Originally released in 2010, Speak Now arrived sandwiched between 2008’s Fearless and 2012’s Red (the two records, in fact, that Swift has already remade). To listen to Speak Now, written entirely by a then 20-year-old Swift, is to hear an artist in transition – both in her music (Swift cleaves closer to pop here than she had ever done previously) and her profile, which was rising rapidly and dizzyingly.

As with previous Taylor’s Versions, the most obvious change is Swift’s voice, which is expectedly richer and more mature than it was a decade ago. It is also notably less country. That nasal twang that once plucked against the lovestruck chorus of “Mine” is no more. Its absence slightly blunts the fun factor in singing along, but not by much. (Notably too, the fiddle appears to sit lower in the mix of the rootsy, bluegrass-influenced kiss off “Mean”).

But really, the record’s appeal exists in how true it stays to the source material. This isn’t an opportunity for reinvention, but rediscovery. The shimmery haze of “Enchanted” is as enticing as ever, as is the bruised, bluesy ballad “Dear John” that takes aim at an unkind ex-lover. John Mayer, though – whom Swift briefly dated and whom the song is heavily rumoured to be about – is perhaps part of the minority who was not eagerly awaiting another round of Speak Now. Last night, he shared a photo of the night sky at his Colorado concert lit up with the words “please be kind” possibly in anticipation of the vitriol likely reinvigorated and heading his way (again).

Lyrically, too, these new versions do not stray far, if at all. The only exception is “Better than Revenge”, which has undergone one significant tinkering. The Paramore-indebted number, a pop-punk savaging of a girl who stole her boyfriend, originally included the line: “She’s better known for the things that she does/ On the mattress, whoa.” To the dismay of some fans, Swift has traded in the barbed taunt for a vaguer sentiment, something about a moth and a flame.

Sprung from the vault are six new tracks. Co-produced with her frequent collaborators, Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff, these include features from Fall Out Boy (“Electric Touch”) and Hayley Williams (“Castles Crumbling”). The most talked-about track is “When Emma Falls in Love”, a lilting piano-led number that is the spiritual predecessor to “Betty” (2020’s Folklore) and “Dorothea” (2020’s Evermore). The best, though, is the very danceable “I Can See You” – a track that conjures an indie-rock mood not unlike those found on Swift’s most recent records. The past typically isn’t the most comfortable place to inhabit, but Swift embodies her younger self fully, imbuing these tracks with the same immediacy and emotional heft as she did all those years ago. Country twang or not.

[boo-berry-gremlin]

hiya! my name's boo! nice to meet you!

hiiiiiiiiii, i'm boooooooo, she/they/it/slime, and I'm a student at blueberry academy! i prommy i'm nice, but i won't prommy that i don't love DRAMA~ anyway, i have the coolest alolan ninetales named silky and she's literally the best I love her so much

other things i like:

- STICKERS!!!!

- tumblers (to put stickers on)

- notebooks (to put stickers on)

- my face (to put stickers on)

anyway, people keep telling me I need to grow up an be more mature and stuff, but like, im 14 i have a few years left to be childish lol

OOC Under the Cut

it is once again Xander (@mira-annabelles-poke-kitchen) back with yet another blog, this one a student so she can get involved with school drama. Slime's a minor, so don't be weird with it, okay?

Picrew is from here: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/395214

[jammie3132]

Sir Knight and Prince Charming, Ch. 6

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Chapter Title: Plot Change: Prince Charming Edition AO3 Chapter Summary: Still reeling from finding out Sebastian was Sir Knight and his break-up with Kurt, Blaine keeps getting hit with more and more information. When he doesn’t know how much more he can handle, he is offered a lifeline from an unexpected source. Will this (FINALLY) lead him to his Knight in Shining Armor? Chapter Note: This is the part where I say I used canon dialogue in this chapter, although I rearranged it to fit my narrative. I have also never been associated with the television show Glee or any Ryan Murphy properties…because if I was, I wouldn’t write “fix it” fics.

WARNING: IMPLIED SELF-HARM OF MINOR CHARACTER DISCUSSED. What happens doesn’t involve self-harm, but I could see how it could be interpreted that way.

WARNING NOT RELATED TO THE SELF-HARM WARNING: Death of a non-canon character is briefly discussed.

“What did you do?!”

Santana smiled as she turned to face the personification of rage she created. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Where are my clothes?! And gel?!” Before she could answer, Blaine rushed past her, straight to the closet in the office where he and Sam were storing their extra clothes during the remodel. The only boxes with his name were the two shoe boxes with his bow ties. “Where are they?”

“Stop whining, I left you clothes.”

“Two pair of basketball shorts and my superhero t-shirts…”

“And a hair and makeup person Annabelle knows recommended the hair serum I left in the bathroom. He swears it’s the best on the market.”

“Annabelle?”

“You said, and I quote, Now that I’ve broken up with Kurt, it might be time to make some other changes as well. I was being helpful.”

“Where…are…my…clothes?!!”

“In the dumpster out front…under 500 pounds of rubble. That’s what you get for playing around in the studio until 6AM and then sleeping until noon.”

“I have dinner with my dad tonight! I can’t go in this!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I took care of clothes for dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Since there’s no work being done here, we’re going shopping. Your mom said she’d talk to your dad about taking care of how we’re paying for everything.”

It took Blaine a moment to grasp what she said. “You called my mom?!!!”

“Texted. She’s in LA with Cooper so 3 hour time difference and whatnot. Did you really think I’d do something like this without approval from my boss?”

“FUCK!”

Blaine stomped out of the office and back down to the basement. He called Sam to vent before confronting his mother. His so-called best friend wouldn’t stop laughing…jerk!! He hung up and was ready to toss his phone when he received a shock 10x’s greater than discovering his wardrobe was gone.

“Hello, Blaine. It’s good to see you.”

Wes Montgomery

The person who befriended him when he didn’t trust people.

The person who not only convinced him he could be a Warbler but lead the Warblers.

The person who (for a short time) became the brother Cooper never was.

The person who told him the motto Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler no longer included him.

“Wes? Hi…um, hello. How? How do you know where I live?”

“Annabelle”

Blaine motioned for them to move their conversation into the lounge. “Annabelle? I’ve known that woman less than a day and she’s already entrenched herself in my life.”

“Would you expect anything less considering the way Sir Knight described her?”

His former mentor’s question was more surprising than the fact he was there in the first place. “You know about…?”

“You and Sebastian reconnecting? Yes, we all do.”

“I didn’t know Sebastian was still in contact with all of you. I mean, Sebastian left Dalton and moved back to Paris…again, none of my business, but can I ask a question?”

“Yes”

“If Sebastian left Dalton a couple of days after I said No Thanks, how was he performing at Sectionals in November?”

“What do you know about Sebastian’s parents?”

“They dumped him on his Nana when he was 2 years-old. He didn’t see them again until he was 16 when they ripped him away from everyone and everything he loved and brought him here. His dad had somehow become State’s Attorney but wanted to run for higher office. They wanted Sebastian in Ohio to present the illusion they were a happy family.”

“That’s about it. And while he’d made connections here, his plan was always to return to Paris when he turned 18.”

“Which was 2 days after Sam and I took McKinley’s trophy back. Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Would it have made a difference?” Wes knew he wouldn’t get a response, so he went on. “Sebastian’s parents fought his return to France, filing a petition with the court stating even though he was 18 and legally an adult, since he had yet to graduate from school they should retain parental custody. The court denied their claim but since his father was State’s Attorney, he was able to change the outcome…at least on paper. The French authorities had no choice but to send him back to Ohio.”

“That’s why he was at Sectionals.”

“When the Warblers arrived back at Dalton that night, his Aunt June was there with a legal court order emancipating him from his parents. He flew back to Paris the next morning.”

“That’s how he…wait a minute. His Aunt June?”

“Yes, and while I know you have a connection to her, I don’t know how. Any questions you have, you’ll have to contact her.”

Blaine sunk into the couch with a sense of defeat. Maybe Kurt was right about June choosing him to reconnect him and Sebastian, not for his talent. “She’s in France. Her sister-in-law…” He sat up so fast he almost jumped off the sofa. “June’s sister-in-law broke her hip. Sir Knight went to Paris because his grandmother was injured. She’s Sebastian’s Nana. She’s the most important person in his life. He loves her more than anything.” At least now he understood why Sebastian…Sir Knight cut off contact. His entire focus would be on her, as it should be. “Thank you for coming and giving me this information, although I still don’t understand why you did. The last time we talked…”

“Annabelle contacted the Warblers a couple of weeks ago trying to get information on you so I knew she knew, or could at least find out, your address. Answering your questions on Sebastian is the price I had to pay to get it. She thought you deserved some of the basics but couldn’t risk her job.”

“But Sebastian will understand you telling me?”

“He will when he finds out why I did it. Trent wants to see you.”

Trent came to you because he thought you’d get rid of the steroids without destroying the Warblers. Arrange some kumbaya sing-a-long like after what happened with your eye. But instead, the Warblers were disbanded and the New Directions got their slot at Regionals. And despite everything you did, our baby-faced Warbler blames himself. You broke him!!

With the words Wes screamed at him the last time they met ringing in his ears, Blaine hugged his legs into himself as if the action would protect him from the memory. “Why?”

“His counselors suggested it as part of his recovery.”

“He’s still…”

“In Big Sur, yeah. He understands you’ve probably got a lot going on with school right now so, this summer?”

“What would I say? That I fucked up? That I didn’t realize how pissed I still was they left me screaming on the ground after the Slushie? That because of the way I felt I should’ve had Trent call you for help? That I should’ve gone to Dalton and talked to the Warblers before I did anything else? That I should’ve remembered Once a Warbler/Always a Warbler wasn’t only in good times? That I was pissed Sebastian let the steroids happen and the only reason I went to Dalton after the scandal broke was to confront him? That I ran away when you told me he left for Paris months before? That it took months to realize my running away from Dalton that day was no different than what they’d done in that parking garage?”

“Blaine…”

“That I trusted someone I shouldn’t have?”

“Yes, to all the above, but I’m personally interested in the last one. Let me guess…Schuester?”

“I never should’ve let Sam and Finn convince me to trust him. I’m not blaming them. This is all on me. But I told Schuester over and over again, the number one priority was the health of the Warblers. Then it was keeping shit out of the press. Colleges, especially Ivy League, could deny someone admission for just being associated with a scandal. He swore he told the Show Choir Association to keep it all hush-hush. When all hell broke loose, I wanted to believe him. Maybe I was in denial, I don’t know. Then the New Directions were awarded the Regional’s slot. I wanted to protest but the other New Directions were so happy, especially Marley who blamed herself for the disqualification since she was the one who fainted. And we were already going to have to pull people out of thin air to make 12 members…”

“I get it, but how did the Show Choir Association justify awarding the New Directions the slot?”

“A wink and a nod then *poof* a random bylaw is conveniently interpreted to say defending National Champions receive an automatic bid to Regionals. None of the previous champions were ever notified this was an option but the bylaw was (air quotes) always there.”

“Ok” Wes stood up, signaling he was done with their conversation. “This was productive. I believe we both had several lingering questions answered. You are to have Santana contact Annabelle when you’ve made your decision about Trent. I’ll see myself out.”

Blaine followed him, knowing he might never get another chance to say something. “Wes…thank the guys for keeping my secret even though I didn’t keep theirs.”

“How do you know they have?”

“Hunter would’ve blackmailed me instead of stealing the trophy. And then the steroids…“

“It wasn’t Brittany’s fault the Lima education system failed her. The only question we had was, if that psycho cheerleading coach hated the New Directions so much, why didn’t she report they were competing with an ineligible member, especially after you guys won Nationals?”

“Britt was also a cheerleader. If the New Directions had to give back their trophies, so would she.”

Wes nodded while wondering why they’d never thought of the rather obvious answer. It wasn’t like he and the guys hadn’t discussed the topic dozens of times. “Blaine, the guys considered reporting Brittany’s ineligibility after what happened with Trent. Not because of you, your exile was the proper punishment. It was because of Schuester. We knew he was involved, just not to this extent.”

“What stopped them?”

“Between Trent and your eye, we decided the bullshit had to end. Brittany didn’t deserve to become another collateral damage victim. From what we remembered she was a sweet girl, innocent like Trent. Being the reason the New Directions were stripped of any title she participated in would have broken her.”

”Like I broke Trent.”

”Yes”

Wes always did know how to get straight to the point. “Any way, thank you...and thank them."

"I will, but one last thing. The Warblers involved with Uptown Girl explained to me, at nauseum, the connection between you and Sebastian. How Seblaine will eventually find their way back to each other. Despite how we feel about you, Sebastian will always be a Warbler. Don’t make him choose between us.”

“Are you saying if Sebastian and I got together, the Warblers would cut him off?”

“No, that’s not what I said. Think about it. Goodbye, Blaine.”

Not long after Wes left, Blaine grabbed his gym bag. Why not? He was dressed for it. His only regret was he’d have to suppress his desire to hit the heavy bag since he was planning on working on music later. Playing an instrument with sensitive knuckles was never fun.

But DAMN, he wanted to hit something.

He didn’t stay long and on his arrival home he was met with the Habitat for Humanity volunteers loading items into multiple trucks and Santana sitting on the front steps with a notepad. “Keeping track of what’s leaving or plotting to make my life even more miserable?”

“You attend the most expensive arts school in NYC and your parents hired me to handle all those pesky everyday tasks so you can focus on your talent. You’re living in a ridiculously luxurious basement through a million dollar remodel of a house your parents bought for cash. There are currently volunteers hauling perfectly good, but not your mother’s style, housing materials out of the million dollar remodel to build housing for people who can’t afford it. Your life is not miserable, Little Prince First World Problems. You might be dealing with a lot of shit, but…but…choose your adjectives carefully.”

Wow, that was a lot…and true. “Hey” Blaine sat on the steps next to her and bumped their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I was talking with the Habitat team leaders earlier and it hit me what could’ve happened if you and your parents didn’t save me.”

“San, after what happened to him, Sam would’ve never let you become homeless. And even if my parents were out of the picture, I wouldn’t have let it happen either. I’m kind of sad you don’t realize that.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

“Any time.” Blaine saw her smile return, but it was obvious the topic continued to weigh on his friend. “But I really do have a major first-world problem. A crazy bitch threw all my clothes in a dumpster!”

Santana laughed so loud, one of the volunteers almost dropped the sink he was carrying. “Check the closet in the office. I had Annabelle call the stylist you went to for the Met Gala. His people sent stuff to tide you over until our shopping spree tomorrow.”

“Stephan? Why him?”

“He had your measurements…duh! Go take a shower. I’m busy and you smell like a boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Blaine kissed her cheek before doing what she said. His parents’ House Manager was beginning to take her responsibilities way too seriously, but for now, he was ok with it.

A shower wound up being exactly what he needed. And the clothes Stephan sent over were not only perfectly tailored, they were a style he’d been eyeing but was afraid to try. He put on his glasses to rest his eyes then read the instructions for the hair serum. The moment he was satisfied how his curls framed his face, his phone rang. The photo that appeared was a surprise, not as big as Wes, but still a surprise. “Hey, Marley! It’s good to hear from you when we’re not discussing the lockdown. Hold on, you don’t want to talk about the lockdown, do you?”

“No, and I know I’ve kept my distance since I left McKinley, except on the anniversary…”

“Marley…”

“I need a favor. A big favor.”

An hour later Blaine was in a recliner in the theater with his laptop, tablet, phone, and Marley smiling back at him from the screen. Video chats were so much easier using the projector. “Are you sure you want to stay here with all the construction? My mom was serious when she said she’d get you a hotel room.”

“Blaine, all I asked was if you could find out why NYADA rescheduled my audition from Monday to Wednesday. This is too much…way, way too much.”

He agreed it was too much, but it helped ease his guilt. He was fairly certain he was partially responsible for her schedule change…but only like 3%. The other 97% was Kurt’s fault. All NYADA students required to attend a week of seminars on professionalism and legal issues in the entertainment industry? Like that didn’t scream Kurt and his Sebastian/NDA issues.

“I wish you would’ve said something sooner. What were you thinking scheduling both your Tisch and NYADA auditions in one day?”

“I was thinking Mom and I could afford plane tickets to and from NYC but not plane tickets and hotel room. This is all a pipe dream anyway. Even if I get into one of them, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it. Maybe I should cancel.”

“Concentrate on your auditions. Thanks to my brilliant scheduling you’ll have most of Sunday here to relax before Tisch on Monday and the entire day Tuesday to relax before NYADA on Wednesday. I’m just upset I couldn’t get you out here tomorrow so you could protect me from Santana when we go clothes shopping.”

Marley began to laugh “No can do. I’m totally Team Santana on this one.”

“Well, I’m going to tell her to find you new audition outfits so take that!” Blaine saw Marley’s demeanor change and wondered if he’d push things too far. “Mar, you know I can’t tackle a problem without an immaculately detailed 20 slide power point presentation. You had the unfortunate timing of Sam being in Kentucky. No one ever believed he was the one to reel me in on all of Blam’s Big Ideas but now you know better.”

“I missed you…and Sam, of course. I’m sorry it took the anniversary of the shooting for us to reconnect.”

“You and me both, but that’s the past. Let’s focus on the future.”

When their chat was done, Blaine texted his mom to confirm the car she arranged to pick-up Marley at the airport. It didn’t take long for him to receive a text with a link to the information as well as a reminder of dinner with his father. The constant reminders had him believing this was more than a simple meal because his father was in town.

Something to obsess over later.

He’d awoken that morning (technically afternoon) with a song idea, but the craziness of the day hadn’t allowed him time to get it on paper. He went to the studio to jot down some notes, but for the first time in a long time, everything poured out onto both the piano and sheet music without constant editing and doubt. He was finishing the second verse when he heard…

**Cough**Cough**

“Santana, I’ve told you a million times. If the red light outside the studio is on, it means leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m not Santana.” Blaine closed and reopened his eyes. Nope, he wasn’t imagining this. “You look good. I like your new clothes, and the glasses…and your hair.”

“You’re lying. Go home Kurt.”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t. No wait, I’ve got a question. How the hell did you get down here? I locked the door at the top of the stairs when I took a shower.” Kurt rocked nervously, telling Blaine he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Well?”

“Um, you didn’t change the code on the lock pad, so I let myself in.”

Shit!

“I said waiting until Monday would be a mistake. Everyone else said you’d never get through the front door. By the way, how did you get through the front door? I want to rub it in while doing my I told you so dance.”

“I didn’t break in, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“Well, I’m pretty fucking sure Santana didn’t let you in.”

“Fine! There were workmen taking out garbage, so the front door was open.”

“So, on top of getting a locksmith out here ASAP, Santana has to go Lima Heights on the foreman for his men letting a random person off the street walk into the brownstone without finding out who the fuck he was?!”

“Why are you so mad? I’m not a random person, Blaine.”

“After the shit you said to me yesterday, random person is the nicest title I have for you.”

Kurt didn’t roll his eyes, but his frustration was palpable. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine immediate reflex was to say I don’t care but changed his mind. He could count on one hand the times his former boyfriend apologized during their entire relationship. “You’re sorry for…?”

“Look, this isn’t how I wanted this to go.” Kurt took a deep breath before taking Blaine’s hand in his. “I'm here to get you back. I don't mean to blurt it out like that, but for the sake of clarity, you should know that first I'm going to get your forgiveness and then I'm gonna get your heart back.” Blaine stared at him like he’d grown another head, and for some unknown (idiotic) reason, Kurt took his silence as a sign to keep going. “I know I blew it. I blew the best thing that ever happened to me.” He let go of Blaine’s hand and pulled a wrapped gift from his messenger bag. “Please, please open this. It will prove how serious I am about winning you back.”

Damn it! Why did his curiosity keep playing along? “Airplane tickets to Las Vegas? I don’t understand.” That all changed when he looked up from the tickets to find his (obviously delusional) ex on one knee, holding out a ring box.

“Marry me. I called one of those tacky wedding chapels and we have a slot for tomorrow night. We’ll be back in time for classes on Monday. I know you. There’s no way the ridiculous rumors you dropped out and are meeting June in Paris are true.”

“You want to get married? In Vegas? Tomorrow?” Blaine heard exactly what Kurt said but the two newcomers hadn’t. Although, the bended knee/ring combo spoke for itself.

“I understand it’s not the wedding I…we dreamed of but when the brownstone is finished, we can throw one here for our family and friends. Or better yet, we could rent an event space in one of the posher downtown hotels…”

“Enough!”

Kurt turned his head to see Santana, standing quietly, recording his proposal. She wasn’t the problem. It was the man standing next to her.

Blaine moved around Kurt to stand in front of his father. “You have to let me handle this.”

“No”

“Dad, if you kick him out, Kurt will somehow turn my breaking up with him into a Shakespearean tragedy with you as the villain preventing us from being together. He’ll never let it go.”

Charles pulled Blaine into a hug without taking his eyes off Kurt. “Santana, set a timer for 10 minutes. If Mr. Hummel isn’t gone by then, send down some of the construction crew to remove the trash.”

“Dad…”

“10 minutes, Blaine. Santana…?”

“On it, Boss. Where will you be if I need you?”

“In the theater, taking advantage of the soundproofing. Start the timer the moment I shut the door.”

To be fair, Santana didn’t start the timer until she closed the door at the top of the stairs. With the elder Anderson out of the room, Kurt suddenly had plenty to say. “I’d turn our love story into a Shakespearean tragedy? How could you say something like that? I would never…”

“Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember any of the tales of woe you caterwauled during our last break up? I’ve seen the NYADA blogs. How it’s already common knowledge I dumped you leaving no way for you to spin the rumors in your favor without breaking your NDA, again. And because of your inability to take responsibility for anything, your next logical step would be to blame someone close to me since I can’t be turned into the villain this time.”

“But Blaine…”

“Oh, and if I hear or read one mention of what happened between me and my dad and building a car, I will bury you.”

“You can’t do that!”

“True, but remember my new friend Annabelle? She can. With how much she dislikes you, I wouldn’t be surprised if she already started a just in case file. Maybe I can finally get the full story on the Santa Clause who robbed the loft right before your dad and I arrived from Ohio that Christmas.”

The 15 shades of red Kurt’s face turned were amazing. “I…it’s not…what happened to you? You’ve never acted like this! This is all Smythe’s fault!”

“You’re so focused on Sebastian and Sir Knight, you’re blinded to what is now so obvious. We were bad for each other long before any of that happened…toxically bad. I've been telling myself Love shouldn’t be this hard but couldn't find a way to fix our relationship. I'm beginning to understand our problems weren't the accusations you constantly spewed at me.  The problem was I let you do it.”

“Blaine…”

“No, I will not marry you. I don’t even want to be friends with you. Hopefully, someday we’ll learn to be civil considering our shared ties to the New Directions. And since you have no sense of awareness, show up uninvited again and I’ll let Santana call the cops. I’d do it myself, but it would bring her so much joy.”

“Damn straight it would” Santana responded, holding out her phone. “One minute, Hummel.”

Kurt marched up the stairs, Santana right behind. Once they were out of sight, Blaine spread out on the floor and closed his eyes. He thought when a person expelled that much negativity from their system, they were supposed to feel lighter…free. He was just exhausted.

The next thing Blaine knew he was opening his eyes and groaning as he slowly rose from the floor. His dad’s voice was coming from the theater, so he headed toward the room to find the man in a recliner, wearing a pair of Sam’s sweats and a T-shirt, Empire Strikes Back cued on the screen. WTF???

“Santana, consider the dress a bonus for how you tore the foreman a new one. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time…The restaurant knows to charge the bill to my credit card…Yes, I know Old Homestead Steakhouse is the most expensive steakhouse in NYC…That’s why you’re getting the special menus without prices. And no Googling before you go. Santana, Sleeping Beauty is awake. You and Annabelle enjoy the dinner. Bye.”

“Dad?”

“Nice nap?” Charles rushed out of his seat as Blaine appeared ready to pass out. “Ok, let’s get you to the lounge to lie down. I can turn down the lights, it looks like you’re getting one of your headaches.”

“I’m fine. We’re supposed to go to dinner.”

“We were but when Santana and I found you passed out on the floor, I switched our plans. Santana and Annabelle took our dinner reservation.” Once Blaine was situated on one of the sofas, Charles covered him with a throw blanket before getting Tylenol and a bottle of water. “Here take these. When was the last time you ate?”

“Um…yesterday. Where are you going?”

“To find something for you to eat more substantial than the hot dogs, popcorn and cupcakes I planned for our movie marathon.”

“Sam lives here. We always have healthy food.”

“Another reason why I love that boy. Close your eyes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As fuzzy as his head was, Blaine wondered if he misheard something his father said. “Did you say you gave Santana and Annabelle our reservation? You willingly gave up your favorite steak in the world for Star Wars and hot dogs?”

“No, I willingly gave up my favorite steak in the world for my son. Close your eyes. That’s an order.”

“Sorry, Santana’s now the boss of me.”

Charles chuckled knowing (but would never say out loud) this was the very reason his wife hired the girl. “Do you want me to call her?”

“No, I’ll close my eyes. And Dad…thanks.”

“Baaaaaassssss, please...more.”

“B…”

“Don’t say it. Anytime I’ve dreamed of being naked in a bed with you, we were never making love. The sex was always hard, pounding, passionate, sometimes pornographic. I want this…I need this.”

“Your wish is my command, Killer.”

Blaine opened his eyes to the instant buzz kill of his dad on another sofa with his briefcase and documents spread out on a coffee table. Hopefully, he hadn't done anything embarrassing in his sleep.

“You’re awake. How’s your headache? You were moaning for a while.”

He thought nothing could knock The Gap Attack out of the #1 position on his Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life list, but he was wrong…so, so, wrong. “My headache is better, but I am hungry. I was probably dreaming of food.”

Sounds reasonable

“Well, I talked to Sam, and he said the best thing to do is give you food in small amounts every half hour. First, were going to raise your blood sugar…OJ, almonds and black tea with honey. He said your headache might be from caffeine withdrawal. Evidently you have quite the coffee addiction.”

“If I’ve got to raise my blood sugar, why not one of the cupcakes you mentioned? I’m assuming they’re the double chocolate-chocolate chip jumbos with hazelnut frosting and a salted caramel core from the bakery by the Plaza.”

“Of, course.”

“To celebrate my breakup with Kurt?”

“Not going to deny it but I’m not nearly as bad as your mom.”

“What did she do?”

“An expensive bottle of champaign was delivered less than an hour after I told her.” Blaine couldn’t help but laugh because that was exactly something his mom would do. “I’ll be back.”

Spending time with his dad like this was nice…and then completely ruined when he remembered he never told his parents the name of the Warbler who threw the Slushie. They never asked, so he let it go.

However, Kurt didn’t. When he reminded his then boyfriend he was the one who gave away the only piece of physical evidence without asking the VICTIM first, he backed off. Now there was nothing stopping him.

When Charles returned, he put the nuts and OJ on the table next to Blaine before handing him the tea. “Drink this while it’s hot.”

“Dad…”

“Drink now, talk later.”

It was the best tea Blaine ever had, but he had a feeling it was because it felt so good going into his system. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten so busy/distracted he skipped meals, but nothing like this had happened. He put down the mug then drank the OJ in less than a minute. Grabbing the bowl of nuts, he adjusted to get comfortable. No, he was already comfortable. This was nerves. “Dad, I need to tell you something and we need to do it now. Kurt knows and I can see him trying to get revenge by telling you first. Do you remember when you were here the last time and Sam and Santana were teasing me about someone named Sir Knight?”

“He was the wrong number June gave you who wound up being your Knight in Shining Armor by helping you get where you were supposed to be. Right?”

“Yes. We never told each other our names. There’s some super-secret mystery involving his career, so it was easier that way.”

“Super-secret mystery?”

“There are $1 million NDAs involved. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is I didn’t try to find out his real name, but I did. I knew him. He went to Dalton after I left. His name is Sebastian.”

Charles sat stoically for a few moments then smiled bigger than Cooper at the end of his Free Credit commercial. “Sam was right? Your mother and I didn’t want to get our hopes up…”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“Dad, I don’t think you understand.”

“Sebastian Smythe was the Warbler who threw the Slushie that caused you to have eye surgery. I know, so does your mother.”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“You KNEW?! Who told you?”

“Seb. He came to the hospital to meet with us while you were in surgery. He didn’t tell you the night you stayed at his parents’ house after the lockdown?”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“That was months later. And how…how did you know I was with Bas that night?”

“You call him Bas? That’s nice. And we knew you were there because he texted us when you arrived and left for home. He knew we’d worry.”

“He had your phone number??!!!”

“Seb didn’t tell you…” Charles’ eyes went wide as he leaned back into his sofa. “You two didn’t talk at all, did you?”

New #1 on his Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life list

“Uh…”

“I don’t know if I should give you a birds and the bees lecture or a high five because Seb left no tell-tale marks and you were gone for HOURS!”

“DAD!!!!”

“What? Your mom and I never understood why you went back to Kurt when someone as perfect as Seb was right there, and now it makes even less sense. He moved back to Paris…but Son, HOOUURRS!”

“Dad, stop! Or I might actually pass out this time.”

“Ok, you rest. It’s time for scrambled eggs, Greek yogurt and pushing water to prevent dehydration. Plus, I have to call your mom, or she’ll kill me for not telling her as soon as I found out.”

“Dad…don’t, don’t…just don’t tell her everything.”

“Scared Cooper might overhear?”

“Yes, but also…SHE’S MY MOM!”

It was another hour until Blaine could look his father in the face, but the time gave them a chance to self-evaluate what happened. Both knew the direction their next conversation must take, but they’d been avoiding it for so long it was hard to know where to start.

Upon returning from his third trip to the bathroom Blaine broke the ice. “I’m pretty sure we can cut back on the water.”

“You weren’t as wobbly this time but you’re still awfully pale. Maybe it’s time to go to an ER.”

“I don’t think my continued paleness is from skipping a few meals. It’s me enduring the most embarrassing conversation of my life.”

Charles closed his briefcase and settled in for Part 2. When he invited Blaine to dinner it was to tell him some news regarding both him and his brother. He was beyond relieved it had been delayed because what happened next was going to weigh heavily on his son’s opinion. “Was it embarrassing because for so long you believed I was a homophobe?”

“I knew you weren’t a homophobe, I just thought you didn’t want a gay son. For some reason it was easier to believe than…”

“I would always choose Cooper over you?”

“Well, yeah but both could’ve been true.” Almost 5 years of pent-up anger boiled to the surface and Blaine was finally ready to let it out. “We were supposed to talk, just you and me, the day after I told you. But no! Copper had another one of his never-ending emergencies and you flew out to LA instead. I was so hurt and then the car arrived.”

“It was horrible timing, I know. But when I tried to explain you yelled that because I left you went online to learn about sex from gay porn sites.” Charles’ train of thought was cut-off by an epiphany. ”Blaine, my comment about a birds and the bees lecture…I’m so sorry. Hell, everything I said was inappropriate.”

“At least now I know for sure you don’t have issues with my being gay. But then what was up with the car?”

“Again, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t realize the ramifications of my leaving until I was halfway to LA. I want you to understand I figured out what I’d done wrong before my plane landed.”

“Why?”

“Because I checked my voice mails while waiting for the rental car. It was full of angry messages from you mother telling me I’d better come up with a way to fix my mess or not bother coming home.”

Blaine grabbed his phone and sent an I LOVE YOU gif to his mother. “Is this where the car comes in?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but when you were around 3 you’d find ways to get past the gates and come into the garage when I was working on that old Camaro I rebuilt. You wanted to help so badly I’d lay out my tools on the floor for you to bring to me. Some of them were so big and you were so little…”

“I do have some flashes of those memories, but they might be from looking at the photo album full of pictures Mom took.”

“Your mom does love to take pictures.” Charles didn’t want to admit he’d forgotten about the album. Yet another way he’d failed Blaine. “In less than a month I didn’t have to point them out, you knew every tool, even the sizes of wrenches and the difference between Phillips and Flat Head screwdrivers. But I’d bought the car for Cooper’s 16th birthday and he didn’t want it so I sold it. I was so upset but didn’t consider you would be as well. Then your mom bought you your first violin and your path as a musical prodigy began. Son, I didn’t get the car because I wanted my straight son back. I got it because I wanted my little boy back.”

Blaine went to sit beside his father and dropped his head on his shoulder. When Charles wrapped his arm around his shoulders, he felt a sense of calm unlike any he could remember. In the Anderson family tradition, he decided to crack a joke instead of cry like a baby…for now. “I’ll always be your little boy. Cooper is 6 inches taller than me.” Laughter was followed by a kiss on the head, a gesture usually performed by his mother. Speaking of… “You never told me why Mom is in LA. What emergency did Cooper have this time?”

“None” Blaine lifted his head, his eyes clearly saying Bullshit. “I’m serious. Cooper turns 30 next month and will receive what remains of the trust fund his mother set up before she passed away. Let’s just say it’s significantly smaller than he anticipated.”

“Can I ask why?”

“His mother’s wishes were upon his graduation from high school, Cooper was to receive a monthly allowance from the trust. The rest could be used for college, a gap year backpacking through Europe, a wedding, a house…things like that. Beverly came from an extremely wealthy family. Did you know that?”

“Oh, yeah. Cooper mentioned it several times.”

Charles shook his head as this was something he should have guessed. “When we found out she was sicker than we thought, she told me she wanted me to find love again and have more children. She knew I would never accept her money to take care of our son, so we compromised. I’d support Cooper’s childhood and she’d take care of him as an adult.”

“That’s an…um, unusual arrangement.”

“You don’t argue with a woman with Stage 4 cancer who is leaving her baby behind.”

Blaine had no comeback for that. “But of all the things you listed, the only one Cooper did was buy his condo.”

“He had all those emergencies, as you love to call them. I took care of whatever mess he got himself into but your mom’s a bookkeeper. She kept every single receipt. We told him we were going to do this before he left for LA but he conveniently forgot.”

“That trust must’ve had a ton of money if it’s not empty.”

“It did at one time. However, the reason there's anything left is because your mother and I agreed to pay half of his expenses, except his condo, until the money was fully his. We knew his moving to LA was going to be a disaster. We didn’t want him to drain the trust before he tuned 30 and had hopefully grown-up. Don’t laugh… Also, I can admit a large part of Cooper's issues stem from me always being the one to fix his emergencies, not him. But I was such a mess when his mom died, I could barely get out of bed let alone parent a baby. Thank God your mother showed up in my life because I was beginning to consider Beverly’s sister’s offer to adopt him.”

“And that guilt never really went away?”

“Nope. I’m not giving you an excuse, I’m giving you an explanation, or at least the best one my therapist and I came up with.”

Ok, that was shocking. “You? Charles Anderson went to therapy?”

“I know I fought the idea of family therapy, add it to my list of failures. But 6 months ago, when I got a reminder from the lawyers about Cooper’s trust, I made a decision. The moment the money was his, he’s on his own. No more financial assistance, no more running to his rescue. I thought therapy would give me coping mechanisms to not give in again.”

“Great! But you still have answered why Mom is in LA and not you.”

“She’s laying the groundwork. When Cooper heard about this place and how Sam got the lead in the Magic Mike musical, the movie he starred in…”

“Channing Tatum starred in the movie.”

“Not according to your brother.”

Blaine braced himself, afraid to ask the question he already knew the answer to. “What did he do?”

“He put his condo up for sale and demanded to be included in the remodel since he needs this place when he moves to NYC to launch his Broadway career.” Charles tightened his hold on his son to keep him from freaking out. “Since I was supposed to meet with the record label people, your mother went to tell him we had other plans for the brownstone so he might want to get his condo off the market.”

Blaine let out an audible sigh before asking “Are you and mom moving to NYC?”

“Our original plan was for you and Sam, and now Santana, to live here until you graduate and then we’d sell it. Then you and your friends discovered what happened down here and named the basement Blaineland. Remember when I said Cooper’s mother wanted me to find love again and have other children?”

“Yeeeeessss?”

“Without my knowledge, she set up a second trust for any future children I might have. We’d wanted to have a large family so I’m assuming she thought I’d have many kids and not just one miracle baby. Because of this, all the money is yours. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, it was never the right time. Because of that we didn’t use the money for NYADA this year.”

"Take it back!”

“If you insist, we’ll talk about it later. Let me finish what I have to say first.” By this time Blaine was speechless so he nodded as a signal to continue. “Since your trust has the same stipulations as Cooper’s, it meant you could buy a house with the money before turning 30, so we put this place in your name. The brownstone is yours.”

This time his father couldn’t hold him down. “You wouldn’t use the money for NYADA, but you bought me a fucking house? Are you hell bent on watching me pass out?”

“Hadn’t you noticed despite Santana mastering your mother’s insane lists, there were always questions only you could answer? Do you prefer this or that color for the bathroom walls? What would be best…the new fridge/freezer to be stainless steel or blend in with the kitchen cabinets?”

Blaine practically fell back to where he’d been sitting. “Sorry about the curse word.”

“You’re an adult now and with what I’ve dropped on you, I’m surprised that was your first F-bomb.”

“Was this what you wanted to talk about over dinner?”

“Yes. Are you ok? The color is leaving your face again.”

“Dad, this is insane.”

“Why? Blaineland is perfect to help launch your music career. And another thing, whenever we gave Cooper money, your mother and I set the same amount aside for you. There’s more than enough to live off for the next 10 years, even paying Santana’s, or whoever’s, salary and the benefit package we put together.”

Just when he thought he’d regained his bearings, Blaine was once again overwhelmed. After his conversations with the New New Directions earlier that week, he’d begun to analyze all the decisions he’d made since the lockdown, and he wasn’t proud of most of them. Then the over the past 2 days that analysist stretched to cover the last 4 years…Kurt, leaving Dalton, Sebastian, Cooper’s fake attempt to repair their relationship, the mess with Kurt at the start of Senior year, No Thanks, Trent, getting back together with Kurt, choosing NYADA instead of Julliard or Tisch, Sir Knight, June, breaking up with Kurt…again, Wes, Kurt’s ridiculous proposal, his yearlong writer’s block when it came to love songs, this evening.

It was all too much. Hopefully, his father would understand.

“What you and mom, even Cooper’s mom, have done is amazing but a lot of things have happened in the past couple days that have my mind spinning. I know everyone talks about me having OCD but I don’t think it’s as big a joke as we think. Right now, I’m so overwhelmed I can’t process it all.”

“Do you think that has as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact you forgot to eat?”

“More…I think it has everything to do with my health this evening. I know NYADA costs a lot of money…”

“Is this about Santana and what she said about First-World problems? She told me she’s really sorry…”Charles heard Blaine sigh in exasperation “Sorry, lips zipped.”

“Thank you this is hard enough. I, I…I don’t think I can go back.”

The elder Anderson smiled wider than he had when he found out Sir Knight was Sebastian. “When you were lying here, looking so pale, I thought of suggesting leaving NYADA and going somewhere out of NYC to rest for a while. Someplace by the water or in the mountains. But I know how you feel about running away from things, so I didn’t know how to address it.”

“I think this time I wouldn’t be running away. I’d be running toward something.”

“Sounds like you have an idea.”

“I do. I want to go to California for a couple of months until Sam’s opening night.”

“You want to go to California, where your brother is? I don’t think that’s going to help your stress and anxiety.”

“I don’t want to go to LA. I want to visit an old friend in Big Sur.”

7AM THE NEXT MORNING

Santana knew she was going to hear shit from Blaine about her so-called walk of shame and she couldn’t care less. She really liked Annabelle…like Brittany level like. But since she was leaving for Paris tomorrow night, with no firm return date, they both thought it would be a good idea to determine whether or not a long-distance relationship was worth it considering they’d only known each other 2 days.

Oh yeah, so worth it.

She went to the office to get a change of clothes before heading downstairs to shower. Hopefully, Blaine had a good night’s sleep. He looked awful the last time she saw him, but they had a busy day of shopping ahead.

When she got downstairs, she didn’t see Blaine in either the lounge or studio. The bathroom door was open, that left the theater. Why would he sleep in there? Did he and his dad fall asleep during their movie marathon?

The theater was empty as well. However, Blaine’s smiling face was on the screen and the remote had a Play Me post-it attached. If he’d talked his dad into getting him out of shopping, there’d be hell to pay.

By the time you watch this I’ll be on a plane to Kentucky. I’m surprising Stevie and Stacy for their birthday. I’m also going to fill Sam in on everything that’s happening. He’ll be back tomorrow instead of Monday and will let you know what’s going on. I’m sorry I don’t have the time and where I’m going doesn’t allow cell phones. I will write you a letter once I’m settled.

Oh, Marley is going to call around noon. Take the call.

Nothing has changed…except the fact the brownstone is mine and I’m technically your employer. I won’t say boss because we both know who the real boss is in the house. I trust your judgement picking out furniture and any remaining remodel details. I love Sam but I don’t want bean bags in front of a 72in TV in the living room. That’s why we have the theater. And just because my clothes you threw out were some interesting colors, it doesn’t mean they should be considered for my bedroom walls.

When I say my bedroom, I mean the one that shares a bathroom with Sam’s. Like I said, nothing changes. You keep the master and private bathroom. We both know I’ll sleep most nights in Blaineland when I get home.

And Tana, thank you for sharing with me the other night. Because you were so brave, I was able to do the same with my dad. It was amazing, possibly life changing. You keep saying my parents and I saved you but you, my Heroine in High Heels, will never understand how eternally grateful I am you are in my life.

There’s a gift for you on the concession stand. Bye for now.

Santana hadn’t noticed the piece of paper on the counter. The dork should have warned her not to read it alone.

I, Blaine Devon Anderson, hereby enter a 5 year rental agreement with Santana Lopez with $0 due at the first of every month. She is free to end or extend the agreement at any time

This agreement is not contingent on whether or not Miss Lopez remains in my employment

Miss Lopez acknowledges she will be living with the loud, nerdy, sometimes stinky and messy, but always loveable, Blam…and possibly another roommate in the fall (More information to come)

Miss Lopez also acknowledges Sam will be getting a dog sooner than later

11 AM SUNDAY…PARIS

Sebastian loved the smell of Paris in the Spring.

He hadn’t spent much time outdoors since his arrival…driving back and forth to Château sur la colline and pushing Nana’s wheelchair through the hospital’s gardens. But every day at this time he got around 30 minutes to come outside, sit on a bench and just breathe. It was the time his grandmother’s nurse would come in and say the 2 magic words…sponge bath.

As much as he loved his Nana, he wasn’t hanging around to see that.

*Groan* “You look like shit. What did your parents do this time?”

Standing in front of him was the last person he expected to see…ok, second to last. “Stephan, what the fuck? Don’t you have several A-listers to style for the Met Gala in 2 weeks?”

“You thought I wouldn’t come? I’m pissed I couldn’t get here sooner, and I’m stunned I’m not bailing you and/or Grandma June out of jail. I heard you finally got proof your parents were there when Aunt Juli fell. Where are they now?”

“In the wind as usual. I’m sure they’ll slither back when Nana is released.”

“She’s not going to a rehabilitation facility?”

“We can get all the equipment she needs and hire private nurses and physical therapists. Plus, now I’ve hired double the security and the DGSI is involved.”

“How did that happen?”

“You’re kidding, right? First of all, there’s a restraining order…”

“Which should be handled by the police.”

“And secondly, you don’t get elected in this country unless Nana gives you a public endorsement.”

“Ah, yes, how could I be so stupid?”

“Because you are that stupid.”

“I love you too, Cousin.”

Sebastian stood and stretched. “Come on, Nana should be done letting the nurses make her even more beautiful.”

“No, I’ll go. You sit back down.”

“No, I have to go…”

“Sit down Seb.”

“Fine, but why the fuck are you so adamant about it?”

“Here” Stephan handed him the gift bag he’d been carrying, which Sebastian assumed was for his grandmother. Inside the bag was a box and inside the box was… “A cronut?”

Stephan didn’t answer, just handed his cousin a letter and walked away.

To my Sir Knight from your Prince Charming

TBC in Chapter 6 Plot Twist: Sir Knight Edition

Notes:

There are a few storylines I completely ignore. Kitty giving Marley an eating disorder is one of them. Blaine’s overall attitude/involvement with reporting the Warblers for steroids never felt right (besides the obvious the ND were disqualified at Sectionals). Taking down Hunter was one thing, but in the “Big Neck” photo montage, there were Warblers who were at Dalton in Season 2. Yes, the Slushie is in between, but still…Also, Sebastian wasn’t in the montage and Trent doesn’t mention him when talking with Blaine, Sam and Finn. That’s my justification for he wasn’t there. Explaining how he didn’t know and still competed at Sectionals was the hard part. As for Wes' attitude toward Blaine...The two of them are often written as either big brother/little brother or mentor/mentee. I chose to write Wes where his loyalty was to the Warblers as an institution, with no sympathy for those who broke the OAW/AWA code. It was hard to do. I kept wanting to make it ok for Blaine, but not this time. Previously Unaired Christmas was Episode 5x08 but it was originally supposed to air in Season 4. If both 5x08 and 4x10 (the episode that aired in its place) are canon, then Kurt was left tied up and gagged on his bed by sexy Santa right before Burt arrived to tell his son he had cancer, bringing Blaine along so they could sing their Christmas duet.🤮 A 3 year-old carrying tools is totally unsafe but this would have been in the 90’s. A lot of things that are seen as unacceptable today were fine back then. There were a lot of events I wanted to add to Blaine’s conversation with his father, but felt if I added any more it would bog down an already over-stuffed section. Unanswered Seblaine questions will be in the letter, but if you’re curious how I would have handled something between Blaine and his father that I didn’t address, ask.

[annebelle93]

Hello Annabelle ^^ i haven’t been reading from your account for long but i really enjoy what you write! i was hoping to ask for a simple headcanon (could be short) of y/n standing up for Mammon to the witches, like putting them in their place. I feel so sad whenever mammon is in pain bc of them :(( sincerely anon^v^💕

Thank you, Anon! 💕

Of course I can write it! I actually had been working on a fic with this theme, so it turned out a big longer than a simple HC, I hope you can still enjoy it

MC stands up for Mammon against the Witches

-> Mammon x GN MC

-> TW: implicit violence; minor curse words

-> content: a bit of angst, but with a happy ending

-> word count: 1.6k

It was Mammon’s night.

After all the fighting and bickering you had to come up with a rotation of alone time with the boys.

And today, it was Mammon’s night.

Your head dangled over his shoulder, bravely resisting the sleep creeping over. But the confusing heist movie he chose along with the turned off lights and the warmth of his arm close to you were simply too much. You gave up around the third plot turn of the film, long after you gave up understanding it. And it didn’t seem like Mammon was far behind you, leting his head rest over yours as his breathing got deeper and slower.

And then you felt your head fall.

“What happened?” You ask him massaging the spot of your head that bumped the couch when he sat straight.

“I-I’ll have to go”

“What? Now?”

He walks around the room searching for his jacket under piles of dirty clothes and overall mess. Hadn’t you both eaten the same things you’d assume he was having food poisoning, by his expression and urge to leave.

“Slow down” you stand between Mammon and the door with open arms “what is happening? Did I do something?”

You had known the demon for quite a while now and was sure you knew all of his expressions, but the way his eyes wandered everywhere without rest and his nails scratched his arm nonstop felt foreign.

You tilt your head to look at him. Was Mammon… anxious?

“Ya didn’t do anything” he pushes you by the shoulder gently “I just have to go”

“You’re hiding something”

“Yeah?”

You see him do his best to smile nonchalantly at you, but it comes out as constipated grim.

So you decide to pull out the big guns.

“Date nights are non-transferrable, unless you tell me why you’re ditching me”

Both staring at each other for a long moment and you are expecting him to raise his voice and tell you you’re being unfair. But after that staring contest, Mammon just turns his eyes back to the door and mutter a weak “fine”.

During your stay in Devildom you were threatened, attacked and even killed once. None of these events shattered you heart as hard as this weak little “fine”.

That was it, you thought while grabbing his arm.

“Tell me what’s going on or I’ll follow you!”

“For Diavolo’s sake, MC! Why’re ya so stubborn?” He gazes at you trying to be intimidating, but you know the demon all too well to fall for it. He groans before looking away “Fine. It’s the witches, they are summoning me”

You release his arm to cross yours. You never seen the witches, but heard enough stories about them. You also heard his whimpering during nightmares and the jokes you’ve scolded Satan many times about. You rest your hands on your waist and turn back to him.

“Ok, I’m coming with you!”

“Are ya crazy, MC? These witches are crazy scary”

“Then we better not keep them waiting, ay?”

Mammon groans again, he knows a lost fight we he sees one. Usually, he’d probably try to argue with you a bit longer, but the pull on his stomach every time they called him was growing stronger by the second and he wouldn’t be able to ignore for much longer. Brooding, he let it pull him to the witches and you count to three before following him. It was important for the spell that he was already somewhere for you to follow. Enchanting yourself to appear in a different place was already hard enough with a physical location in mind, but doing it with a person.... oof.

You open your eyes to see Mammon kicking stones in front of an enormous house with both hands deep in his pocket. You stumble to him; the sun is high in the sky making it hard for you to see. Silently he places his sunglasses on your face and point to the door.

A big garden guides to big doors that opens to a big foyer. High ceiling adorned by gold and ivory. You look around and one word comes to your mind: tacky.

Talk about trying too hard, you think climbing up the stair.

Loud laughing and the smell of smoke travel to you. It’s hard to define how many people are in the house, as one particular laugh seems to overlook every other attempt. Mammon opens a second set of doors and the laughing stops.

“Mammon, dear” a woman holding a long pipe between perfect red nails says with a heavy accent “you are late”

“Yeah, I had a thing” she raises one finger

“I don’t care, just zip it” you see his mouth unwillingly close and him burying both hands back on the pockets “I see you brought a little Succubus with you today” she let her eyes walk over you shamelessly “or perhaps a little imp?”

“I’m a human”

“A human!” The witch claps her hands together and walk to you with a smile “I don’t recall allowing dear Mammon to bring more witches to the coven, but since you found us maybe you can be of use”

She walks around you evaluating your form under the worried eyes of the other members of the coven. They sit near an enormous window, holding chalices of dark red wine and gorging on rare meats and exotic fruits. If it wasn’t for mammon standing in the middle of the room, one could assume it was a cult for Beel.

Every single one of them dressed extravagantly. Perfect fitted suits and dresses matching with sparkly eyeshadows and crimson perfect lips.

Now you knew where all of Mammon’s money went to.

“I’m not here for you coven” you spit with as much disdain as you can “I’m just accompanying a friend”

“A friend?” She laughs returning to her chair. The rest of the coven follows and you realize the loud laughter you heard in the stairs were hers “demons don’t have friends, sugar”

“Demons have power” a man with red nose spoke

“And gold” a second woman with dangling pearls rose her hand to show numerous rings

You see Mammon blush under their mean eyes.

“A little word of advice, sugar – mammon, come - don’t get too friendly with demons” She points to the space near her and Mammon’s legs start to follow her finger. You see his face twist in embarrassment and your own burns “they are not trustworthy. They follow power and only stay by your side as long as you have it to control them”

The witches begin to pat his jacket searching for pockets, far too freely for your taste. Their hands roaming around places obviously pocketless.

The moment you see the long red nails of the prime-witch moving to join the search, your feet move too. You grab her wrist, hand hovering way too close to him.

“Stop it”

“Oh honeycomb” she pulls her hand with a condescending smile “you think you can stand up to me? What is your strength? The power of friendship?”

You feel your cheeks burn to their laugh.

“They think they can protect the demon” a different man, with dark slinky hair, mocked

“Listen to your sisters, demon savior” a young woman cooed with open arms “don’t side against us because of lousy demon. Use your head”

The cacophony of cackling and mocking along with the nasty smoke smell on that sultry tacky room made your head spin. Would it kill them to open a window and stop laughing for five seconds?

You bump your fist on the table and a couple of chalices fall, bringing the startled silent you wanted.

“I don’t give a rats ass about what you think of demons” you shout pointing to your chest “Mammon is my first!”

“And what is that even supposed to mean, sugarplum?” She leans in your direction calmly with a rispy tone

“It means he belongs to me and I don’t like it when people mistreat my belongs!”

A shiver runs through your neck. You didn’t mean to feel it, but there was something about the way the witch got up and walked towards you. She stopped so close to you the smell of expensive wine burned your nose. With a whistle she points to her side.

“That is power” Mammon looks at you worried. Her command to “zip it” is still in order when he stops by her side “you think you can do better?”

“I will not going to order him around like a dog in a divorce court.” You reach you hand to him “but I can give him my power to help with anything he needs to dismantle your pact”

You look at her with a sweet smile when Mammon grabs your hand turning to his demon form, making your pact glow on both your arms.

The coven collectively gasps when their leader takes a step back.

Her mark is the first you reach, scratching it open repeating ancient words Mammon whisper in your ear. He guides you one after one, faster than any human could follow.

You come to your senses outside the house, when the bright sunlight begins to burn your skin. Mammon is outside with you, hand glued to yours and a grin too close to your face.

“I should’ve brought ya with me sooner!”

“Yes, you should!” You push him away with an angry face “why did you let those people treat you like this for so long?” Mammon held his neck and stared at the window

“They got collateral on me” he turns back to you with eyes wide open “ah shit, who’s going to take care of her now? I need to find a new human to do it”

“You dum-dum!” You poke his forehead with an exasperated tone “if you need a human to take care of someone especial to you of course I am going to do it!”

Mammon releases your hand and take a step back, blushing harder than you ever seen.

“Ye-yeah, of course you will! Because The Great Mammon is your first, s-so you have to do what I tell you to!”

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

They Call Me Wicked (That Makes Me Glad) (pt 1/?)

That’s right! This is my Light Sides VKs AU!

[Next>]

Word Count: 2016

Rating: teen

Pairings: platonic Anxceit (they’re engaged, but they’re just best friends)

Since it’s the first part I’ll just let you know right now that the endgame ships are Moceit, Analogical, and Rosleep

Warnings: minor swearing, misgendering (by people who he’s not out to), arranged engagement, yelling

~~~START~~~

“Are your shoes polished enough? Maybe we should find you a different pair. And this coat! Are you sure it fits well in the shoulders? You’re a growing prince and you need to–” 

Janus was resolved to standing perfectly still until his mother finally satisfied herself. She’d been nervous about this party all day and now that it was finally here, her nervous energy had somehow dialed up to an eleven.  

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d react once it was time for his actual wedding — much less his coronation! 

“I think he looks very handsome,” a new voice cut in, the mocking tone subtle enough that only Janus would be able to pick it up. “Not a hair out of place.” 

“Annie!” Mother gasped, all but launching herself at the newcomer, pulling them into a fierce hug.  

Janus and ‘Annie’ exchanged a commiserative look over Queen Belle’s shoulder.  

Thank you, Janus mouthed. He received a smirk in return.  

“You look splendid darling, absolutely splendid!” Mother gushed, pulling away slightly to look over Janus’s fiancée’s dress. “I’m so glad that Janus decided to pop the question!” 

“Decided” wasn’t exactly accurate. Janus and ‘Annie’ had been promised to each other since birth, all Janus had done was fulfill his duty and propose to his best friend in the most sickeningly romantic way that both of them had hated with a passion, but had made their mothers swoon. Neither of them got a choice, they had to be the perfect prince and princess that their parents expected.  

For now, at least. Once Janus was crowned King in two months, he could change things.  

The only thing that stopped Janus’s mother from fretting over ‘Annie’ the way she’d been fretting over Janus was King Adam’s arrival.  

“Come, my dear, it’s time to join the party.” Belle was at her husband’s side in an instant, gazing up at him with the same love and adoration she always had when looking at her true love, her husband that she’d chosen herself.  

(Janus was not upset at the hypocrisy, what would make you say that?) 

“We’ll see you two in a minute,” Belle smiled. “You’ll do great!” 

Adam said nothing, but he shot Janus a look that said “make me proud, son,” before he and his Queen turned to the ornate doors that led out to the top of the grand staircase in the ballroom. The doors were opened seconds later, and a harold could be heard announcing “his majesty, King Adam, and her majesty, Queen Belle.” 

The doors shut after the King and Queen, leaving Janus and his fiancé alone.  

“Boring, outdated pageantry,” Virgil huffed as soon as they were gone, slouching over so far that Janus might think he was about to fall over if he didn’t know the other prince so well. “Think anyone would notice if we just blew this whole party off?” 

“Considering it is a party for us,” Janus smirked, barely holding in a chuckle. “I think people would notice. It’s a shame Flora didn’t let you keep the purple, it suited you well,” he mused, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind Virgil’s ear.  

Two days ago, Virgil had convinced Merryweather to turn his hair purple — a compromise since no one would allow him to cut his hair short. Unfortunately, Flora had seen it and changed it back before his parents — or heaven forbid, his grandparents — saw it.  

Virgil grumbled again, but a page knocked on the door before he could reply. That was the signal, in thirty seconds, the doors would be opened, and “his highness, Prince Janus and his fiancée, Princess Annabel” would be announced to Auradon for the first time.  

Janus sighed and offered his right hand, palm up to Virgil as was traditional. Virgil in turn would place his left hand, palm down over it, showing off his engagement ring.�� 

The engagement ring was one of the only things that Janus was allowed to pick out himself… mostly. He’d chosen the black band with inlaid gems himself, but the yellow sapphires were his family’s stone, and a nonnegotiable feature of the ring. The black hadn’t been well received by either of their families, but Janus had pretty successfully argued that the black would make the golden gems standout all the more.  

(And while it was true that the black complimented the yellow well, the actual reason was to fit in better with Virgil’s emo aesthetic.)  

The pair only had time to plaster pleasant smiles over their mutual loathing of the entire event before the doors were opened and the harold was announcing them.  

They held their position at the top of the stairs for a moment as the guests — made up almost entirely of the other (lesser) kings, queens, princes, and princesses of Auradon — clapped politely.  

They were a striking pair.  

Virgil in a dress made to call back upon his mother’s old dress from her sixteenth birthday, though more modern and in his usual purple (a compromise reached long ago by Flora and Merryweather), with small details of black and gold meant to compliment both Janus and the ring. His long golden hair flowed down his back in loose curls with only his mother’s old crown as decoration. His golden heels, though taller than he would have liked, still only put him at Janus’s nose.  

And Janus in his fitted golden suit with a purple silk button up underneath and black details that complimented the ring. His usual bowler hat was replaced with his crown, showing off the soft brown waves of his hair. His black dress shoes were — despite his mother’s fretting — polished within an inch of their life.  

Only once the applause died down did Janus and Virgil make their way down the grand — and way too tall, in Virgil’s opinion — staircase. They didn’t so much as pause at the base of the stairs, instead they continued on to the very center of the ballroom where they stopped.  

There, the newly engaged couple turned to each other. Virgil moved his left hand to Janus’s shoulder, and Janus moved his right hand to Virgil’s waist. As their free hands interlaced, the band struck up a waltz.  

The crowd was silent during the first dance, everyone watching the couple closely — some gazes were scrutinizing, some were bored, most were politely interested.  

The first song flowed seamlessly into the second, and neither Janus nor Virgil missed a single step as other couples started dancing around them, their parents included.  

After a few more songs, Janus and Virgil were allowed — by social convention — to leave the dance floor and begin mingling. Virgil’s left hand was once again on display as Janus led him off the dance floor and towards the refreshments.  

“Congratulations you two,” Fairy Godmother said, intercepting them before they’d managed to reach the food and drink. “You make a beautiful couple and Auradon will surely thrive under your rule.” 

Honestly, Janus wished she didn’t sound so cheerful and earnest all the time. If she were anyone else, he would think that the sugar-fairy routine was an act, but unfortunately, he’d known Fairy Godmother long enough to know that she genuinely was just that saccharine.  

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” Janus smiled, knowing that the only person who would be able to tell how forced it was was Virgil.  

“If you need a dress for the wedding, Annie, I know I’ve mostly retired the old wand, but it does make excellent dresses.” 

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother, but I think Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather are expecting to be in charge of the dress,” Virgil said, just barely managing not to grimace at the mention of yet another dress.  

“Well, if either of you need anything–” 

“We know where to find you,” Janus finished.  

“Just so!” Fairy Godmother agreed. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure everyone here is eager to congratulate you. Goodbye, dears!” 

“Goodbye.” 

They didn’t even get a chance to take a single step before someone else was sidling up to them. Fake smiles plastered in place, Janus and Virgil prepared for what would surely be a long night.  

They never did make it to the refreshment table; the only reprieve they got from greeting well-wishers was dancing, and the only reprieve they got from dancing was greeting well-wishers. By the time it was time for Janus — and by extension, Virgil — to take the stage, both princes were thoroughly exhausted.  

“People of Auradon!” Janus said into the microphone. A hush fell over the crowd.  

It was time for Janus to make his first royal declaration, and Virgil, as his fiancé, would be by his side for it. Societal convention now allowed for Janus to no longer be holding Virgil’s hand in his own in an incredibly unnatural way, but rather for Virgil to hold on to Janus’s arm, engagement ring still on display, but no longer the focal point.  

“After much deliberation with my parents, my fiancée, and other trusted officials, I have decided what my first official proclamation will be.”  

The audience hung on Janus’s every word. The first proclamation was an exciting time, it often told the kingdom exactly what kind of king or queen a royal would be — kind, ruthless, practical. The whole precedence for Janus’s rule would be determined right here.  

Only Virgil and Janus himself knew what exactly was coming; Janus was almost as excited for the backlash his proclamation would receive as he was for the actual proclamation itself.  

“As future King of the United Kingdoms of Auradon, I officially decree that the children of the Isle of the Lost be granted the chance to live here in Auradon!” 

A gasp ran through the crowd, and Janus held up his free hand to quiet them down. Virgil squeezed his arm slightly — in reassurance or in anxiety, he wasn’t sure.  

“We start out with a few at first,” Janus continued, raising his voice over the few people who had continued whispering nervously to each other. “Just the ones that need our help the most. I’ve already chosen them.” 

This was it; this was the part where the shit would hit the fan, but Janus was ready, and he was strong in his conviction. This was the right choice.  

“Their parents are Evil Queen–” out of the corner of his eye he saw Snow White faint “–Jafar–” Abu sputtered indignantly “–Gaston–” his mother’s glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble floor “–and Maleficent!” 

The crowd lost it, everyone was talking all at once, asking questions of each other, of Virgil, of him, but Janus pushed on.  

“Their children are innocent!” He yelled, barely audible over the party’s guests. “They deserve a chance at a normal life!” 

“THE CHILDREN OF OUR SWORN ENEMIES!?” His father roared, causing the audience to fall silent under his temper.  

“Their children are innocent,” Janus repeated, calmly. “Why should they be imprisoned for crimes that they did not commit?” 

King Adam’s face twitched, and Janus knew he had him. He’d backed his father into a corner.  

Agree with me, or become the villain yourself.  

“I supposed the children are innocent,” he finally acquiesced, his voice booming enough on its own to carry across the room without a microphone. “Very well, four children from the Isle will be granted the opportunity to come live in Auradon.” 

Janus smiled. He led Virgil off the stage, hoping the stunned silence would finally allow them to get some food, but his parents intercepted them halfway there.  

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Janus,” father growled.  

“I do,” Janus answered, meeting his father’s gaze evenly.  

“I’m so proud of you, Janus,” mother said warmly, squeezing his free arm.  

“Thank you, mother. Now, if you’ll both excuse us, Annie and I haven’t been able to get a bite of food all night.” 

“Of course.” 

“Are you happy?” Virgil asked once they’d cleared his parents.  

“Very,” Janus smirked as they finally reached the finger foods and punch. “I have a very good feeling about this.” 

~~~END~~~

I got really excited about this idea, and then I wrote like 3k in one day, but it took me several days to have enough time to get my laptop out and edit, so I’ve already got three chapters finished

I’m gonna get the next part up pretty quickly cuz I’m just really excited for you guys to meet the others!!!

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

[funnyexel]

Quiet Tsundere x Reader

A/n: This is a drabble. If you like it don’t be shy, leave a request. In the requests on my page. Enjoy <3333

Masterlist Mega List

Yawning, your locker slams shut. You jump at the sudden action, drowsiness present in your form. He towered over you. Looking down at you as if you’re a lesser being than him. You stared back at him. Silently having a staring contest until you gave in. Yawning once again, you lean against the locker. “Yes?” You grip onto your books as they slowly slip out of your hands. He only looks you up and down. Hitting your books with little effort nearly knocking them out your hand and poking you with minimal force. “I’m tired. I was up all night.” You rub your watery eyes. He walked away from you. Maybe onto his next class but it was beyond you as the bell rang to continue your tiring school day. 

You sat in your usual choice of seats. In the back, you’ve been doing this since the first few weeks of school. The words coming out of the teachers mouth was equivalent to gibberish. You didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Sleep was taking over your body as your head met the comfortable school desk. And just like that you were back into dream world. How you ended up sleeping in class was an interesting reason. To think it’d be because of studying or something like that but no. It was because of dumb, never gonna happen fantasies. And with the last person you thought would be in your head in this type of way. How in the world did this happen? Funny story...

“You’re telling me. You have no feelings whatsoever. If he’s not sexually harassing you, they say it’s a sign he likes you.” You roll your eyes at her ridiculous accusations. In your mind, the day he likes you is the day pigs fly. “Mhm. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. He doesn’t utter a word to me. What makes you think he likes me.” You chuckle, hearing how crazy it sounds coming from your mouth. This goes on for days and days on end. Until you’re up at night, thinking if he really does like you. Making scenes and scenarios in your head about confessions, dates and other things.

 And most unexpectedly fantasies about his voice, if it would be deep and smooth or high and premature. It really stumped you. You heard rumors around the school about how his voice is deep and gravely like concrete. Whatever that means, but then again it’s just rumors. Could be true, could be false but only the one the rumor is about will know. On the flip side, his “friends” were noticing his actions towards you as well. It was sudden nonetheless but it was frequently that they would see him around you. He had one true friend. One he knew since the crayon stage. 

He’s the only one that he got comfortable enough around to speak and use his voice. Why is this? He was insecure about his voice. It wasn’t bad or anything but he thought it was super deep, so one day after puberty hit him he decided to stop talking and only talk around those he’s comfortable around. He wanted you to be one of those people. Oh, how it would overjoy him for you to be one of those people. He could talk for hours and hours on end if he had the right person. And in the back of his mind, you were his right person. Corny? Yes and he knew this so he kept to himself. Keeping it well hidden at that. 

The girls that hung around his “friends” hung around him too and he disliked it. These wasn’t his kind of people, they were cool and whatever but not his type of crowd. They started to pick at you while he turned a blind eye. Saying small remarks like “such a pick me girl” and “she came outside wearing that?” It was subtle at first but became more and more obvious. Even though he wouldn’t talk, his body language spoke volumes. With a stare he stopped them from picking at you but it only stopped momentarily. Given they saw how it riled him up and they thought it was hot in a way. Very weird I know. 

“Y/n.” What’s that noise? You thought. “Y/n L/n!” A pair of hands slam on your desk causing you to jump up. They could visibly see the tiredness in your face. “Y/n, go to I.S.S.” They demand. The class inserts cartoon like noises, while you pack up your belongs and make your way to the classroom. You huff as you close the door to your classroom. Sleepily walking to the I.S.S. classroom which is turning into a jog as the hall monitor cracks down on you. They follow you to I.S.S. and close the door behind you. You look at the basically empty classroom with barely anyone in it. 

Sitting down at one of the back desks, you take out a notebook and doodle. A few minutes pass by and a piece of paper slides its way onto your desk. You didn’t see where it came from so you opened it. “how’d a goodie two shoes end up in here?” You lip sync to yourself, now knowing who its from. There lay, the way too familiar bookbag. You sigh and crumple the paper in your hand, putting it in your backpack. Now going back to your doodling activities. This time a paper ball hit your head and landed in front of you. “stop crumpling up my note, idoit.” You roll your eyes and write under his words. 

“you spelled that wrong and I’ll keep crumpling it up if I want to.” You throw it into his lap. He sat at the desk, in front of you to the left. “I know I did, you autocorrect junkie. did you break a pencil or better yet fold a paper wrong.” He was messing with you. “shut up and stop throwing this back, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” You finally go back to your doodling. You feel a minor yet hard kick in your leg. You jerk up ready to place your fury upon the poor soul. He puts his hand up for you to stop then points to the teacher, she was pregnant and out cold. He throws the paper at your chest and turns back.

Frustratingly, you open and read it. “she’s not even paying attention. and you have nothing better to do.” The temptation to crumple this paper is unbearable. “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” You throw the paper at his head, turning your body to the right and continue your doodling. Now in peace, you realize what you’re doodling. It was a mini comic about confessing. Alertly looking around, you rip out the page and shove it into your bookbag. ‘I hope no one saw that.’ You breath out at the thought. You felt little hits at your head, again and again and again. It was slowly getting to you. 

‘can’t this be over already.’ You bury your head into your arms. A soft tap is placed upon your right shoulder. Lifting up your head, an unbothered female rests the note on your desk. You’ve seen her before around the school, she was pretty antisocial as far as you knew. “Those group of girls in the front are staring at you.” At the last word, you lift up the note a bit to get the girls in your eye range. Placing the note on your desk, you reply. “nice to know...you wouldn’t happen to know why. would you?” You drop it on her desk. He stopped throwing paper at you. 

Unfolding her note. “because of your friend. watch out for them, they’re not so...friendly.” You glance at the women again, this time they notice you. “he’s not my friend. but thanks for the heads up. I’m y/n. what’s your name? I’ve seen you around before.” As you pass her the note, he gently places a note on your desk. “This is alot of note passing.” You mutter to yourself. “look at the door, stupid.” Rolling your eyes, you look and see your best friend. A smile creeps it’s way onto your face. “What are you doing?” You lip sync to her. “Class is over come on it’s lunch.” She motions you to come out.

Shaking your head, you receive the note from the girl. “Vera.” You put the note in your pocket and look back to your best friend having a silent squabble with him. You motion for her to stop. The sound of the bell echoes in the class, awaking the teacher. Looking to the ground, a puddle of papers engulf your feet. Thinking fast, you move your backpack closer to the papers and shove them all in your bag. “Ok. I don’t feel like filling in a report so this time, I’ll cut you all lose. Out.” She motions to the door and she didn’t have to tell you twice. You dashed to the door, almost knocking your best friend out. 

Taking her wrist, you pull her to the cafeteria. Sitting her outside at your usual table, she sighs. “He’s annoying....” You slowly nod to her observation. “Just right for you.” She adds to her unfinished statement with a devilish smile. You slap your hand to your forehead and shake your head. She chuckles, leaving to get lunch for you and her. You pull out the papers from your bag. All were blank except for one. 

“This note is for the Idiot who finds it.  You Lack In the brain department. Just so you Know. It Even hurts mY brain to talk tO yoU. Even though I don’t talk.” 

This note made no since what so ever, some letters were written over as if he made a mistake. You put the confusing note in your pocket for later. Feeling the breeze, you close your eyes and relax. “What do you want with Arthur?” A girl in close contact, spits with a noticeable cruel attitude. You open your eyes and they land on the same girls that were in I.S.S. They stare at you intensely. Causing you to answer. “Nothing.” You awkwardly say, playing with a piece of paper. She snatches the piece of paper from you. “Like hell! You’re ugly. He doesn’t like you and would never like you.” 

They encourage her hateful words. “Honestly, she’s the bottom of the barrel.” They begin to cackle at the ‘not so insulting’ insult. It was insulting but not so much for you to go crying to your mommy. Taking their leave. “And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” A snarky remark leaving your mouth, loud enough for them to hear. “What did you just say?” She turns her head, doll like. Reminding you of Annabelle. “I said, And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” You repeat yourself but speak slower so it can sink in. 

“Can we help you?” Quinn says, placing the food on the table and standing by you with her knee on the seat. “Listen here, skank. He doesn’t want you.” You roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I can tell. I’m not interested in him. You can knock yourself out. Metaphorically.” You sigh and take a water from the tray. She gets visibly more frustrated and mad at your unbothered state. Scoffing loudly, she leaves you alone. Glancing at the surroundings, people were gathering around you. They soon realized it was just a disagreement and go back to their business. Quinn was very surprised at how you handled the situation.

Surprised that you even responded to her. “I’ll beat her up.” You chuckle at your best friend. “Words can’t hurt me.” You breathy huff and lean your head in your palm. Secretly staring at her approaching him, smothering him. ‘He looks so uncomfortable.’ You stop staring at her and look at him. He catches your eye and you revert your eyes back to Quinn. She was staring at you the whole time. “I’m not interested in him, she says.” She mocks you, even adding her own commentary. The end of the day came pretty quickly. The halls were practically empty as you went to your locker for the rest of your stuff. 

“I just had to get held back by that teacher. Wasn’t I.S.S enough for them?” You say to yourself as you put your stuff in your backpack. The click of your lock, set about some rapid footsteps coming towards you. You looked and two people grabbed you by the arms. “Let go of me!” You yelled in her face. She laughs wickedly as you get dragged into the bathroom. They striped you of your bookbag and threw you into the stall doors. Your back hit harder than it sounded. As they started to beat you up, you reached into your pocket and pull out your taser, tasing someone in the ankle. 

They dropped down to the ground and this was your chance. Hurriedly crawling to the bathroom door, you push it open. At that moment, you got away. A tight grip is placed upon your ankles with all your might you hold onto the door frame and scream to the top of your lungs. All the while, one of them were pulling your ankles with all their might. Your hands gave in as soon as another pair of palms gripped onto your ankles. Your screams echoed from the bathroom for a moment until an inhuman slam came across the door. Silence filled the restroom, you laid on the floor bruised up and lightly bloody as they stopped their movements to the new person. 

Hearing yelps of surprise, soon enough you were being lift up bridal style in strong arms. Your left eye refusing to open, you stared at him with your right. A heavy sigh of relief, left your lips as you leaned into him a little closer than before. The far too familiar sound of cheap paper crumping fills your ears as he sets you down on the nurses table. The nurse wasn’t there but the door was unlocked. He got some band-aids and alcohol. Sitting on a chair next to the table, he patched you up best he could. You avoided eye contact with him at all costs. “This is awkward.” His voice shook you to your core. Though you were already shaking from the recent events. 

“y-yeah.” Voice low and sore from screaming. He finished, putting all the stuff back, placing a ice pack to a huge bruise on your leg and giving you another for your eye. You stayed quiet for the most part, but you reached into your pocket and held out the crumbled note to him. He looked to you and took it. Leaving the ice pack on your leg, he unfolded it and immediately saw your writing on the bottom. “I like you too.” He lip synced your neatly written words. Shoving the note into his pocket, he gazed into your eyes with hopefulness. “can we leave?” You state, feeling like someone is watching you. He offered you a ride home which you gladly took, having already missed the public bus. 

You both talked the whole ride. Getting used to his voice. He took you to get some food. Throughout the ride, you both established that you’ll keep this relationship on the down low. Arriving at your home, you invited him in but he politely declined. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You leaned in the window and nodded with a smile. “Bye.” You flash one last smile before turning and walking to your front door. Putting in the passcode and entering the house. Walking into the kitchen you but your fast food bag on the island and took a sip of your drink as you dialed a frequent number. “Quinn. You will not believe what just happened.”

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 11

Summary: Amelia and Henry are going apple picking.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 5.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I don’t know Henry’s family (well duh 🙄), but I wrote them in a way it would fit into this story. However, please keep in mind that this is in no way reality. Also, I know it has been over a month since I last updated this fic, so thank you for your patience 🥰

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

After what seemed the longest day at school, I quickly drove home, so I could get ready for my date with Henry. I’ve been looking forward to it since the moment we agreed to it. I love apple picking and the fact that I get to spend even more time with Henry, is definitely something I’m not saying no to.

Yesterday morning and this morning Henry came by to bring us all something nice to drink (a caramel cappuccino in the morning just hits different) and to pick up his sandwiches. I can’t believe that this is actually happening right now. After divorcing Dean, I thought dating was out of the question, really. I figured Dean would move on with his new girlfriend (and I mean, he certainly did: they’re getting married and have a baby—I think that definitely qualifies for moving on), while I would sit in my house, surrounded by my kids and my friends and I’d probably date when I was over fifty, when the kids would be long off on their own.

I mean, I wasn’t opposed to it. I had been with the same man since I was eighteen, being on my own felt like an entire lifetime ago and I was thoroughly enjoying it.

However, I met Henry and it seems to fit. I wouldn’t have dared to dream someone like him fitting here so perfectly.

My house is filled with kids. They all know I’m going out and when I’m gone, they have the place to themselves and don’t have to—and I’m quoting both myself and Eve here—use their inside voices as Eve is still working. While Benji, Lola, Jake, Isabella and Yara are all hanging on the couches watching some tv, I’m frantically running around, in order to get myself ready for this date. I took a quick shower, to clean myself up a little, since there was a slight peeing incident today at school and unfortunately, some got spilled on me. Not on accident of course. Poor kid was really anxious the entire day, since it’s not going well with his grandma. Besides, my own kids and Eve’s kids all peed or puked on me at least once, so you could say I have seen my fair share.

‘Amelia,’ Lola says, as I’m pacing through the living room, ‘why are you nervous?’

‘I’m not nervous,’ I tell her.

Benji smiles. ‘Yes mom, you are. Relax, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a date.’

I sigh deeply, knowing deep down that it’s not a big deal and I should relax. It’s indeed just a date and I already know Henry. He comes by in the morning and gives me a kiss. Nothing to worry about. ‘Am I looking too casual?’ I ask them, as I look down to my tight blue jeans, the thick black sweater and the black ankle boots. I have my warm white coat ready on the backrest of the seat. ‘This is too casual,’ I conclude.

‘Mom,’ Isabella says, while she sits on Lola’s lap, ‘you look really pretty and I know that Henry thinks so too. This morning he said that you looked really pretty.’

He did what? ‘When did he say that to you?’ I ask her.

‘When you were checking your bag.’ Isabella smiles and I can’t even hide my blush.

The doorbell rings and I let out a high pitched scream.

Yara starts to giggle. ‘You can do this, Amelia,’ she says. ‘Really you can.’

I can’t believe I need a few kids to hype me up, but to be fair: I am a bit rusty in the whole dating department. If they think I’m a nervous wreck now, they should’ve seen me seventeen years ago when I went on a date with Dean. ‘I know, I’ve got this,’ I say as casual as possible. I walk to the door and when I open it, I’m met with the beauty that is called Henry Cavill. His coat hangs open, only to reveal yet another cable sweater.

‘You are absolutely breathtaking,’ Henry says with a smile. ‘I’m so lucky.’

My mouth falls open. ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I laugh. ‘Seriously Henry, you are already the embodiment of perfection and then you say this.’

Henry looks at his shoes and from the looks of it, he is trying to cover up a blush. That is adorable, really.

‘I just have to get my coat. You want to come in?’

‘Of course,’ he says, when I step to the side to let him in.

‘Where is Kal?’ I ask him. ‘I haven’t seen him in a while.'

‘Greg and Annabelle are watching him. I can’t say no to that sweet face.’

‘Whose sweet face?’ I ask with a chuckle.

Henry simply rolls his eyes, but lets out a laugh anyway

‘Oh, by the way, you have to know there are three teenagers and two young girls sitting in the living room.’

He nods. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ He closes the door behind me and presses a light kiss on forehead. ‘Did I already say to you that you’re pretty?’

‘You told me I was breathtaking,’ I say with a smile. ‘But I did hear you were talking to my daughter about how pretty I looked this morning.’

He chuckles. ‘I might’ve.’ I feel his lips on the tip of my nose and my stomach twists and turns in a pleasant way. I almost forgot how the first weeks of a new relationship type of thing feels like.

I clear my throat as I try to regain some composure and together we enter the living room. Jake starts to make kissy sounds, causing me to roll my eyes. ‘Grow up, will you?’ I say to him, as I grab my coat.

Henry gently pulls it out of my hands, before holding it up for me, so I can easily slide my arms through the sleeves.

This man… Is he honestly real? I hope every minor on that couch is making mental notes, because this is peak gentleman behavior and I want them all to remember this for when they start dating.

‘I won’t,’ Jake laughs. ‘This is way too much fun.’

‘Well, I’ll keep this in mind for when you start dating,’ I say, as I zip up the coat. ‘Remember, I can embarrass you even better. Remind me, how old were you again when you peed on my porch?’

Yara pretends to vomit, while Isabella exclaims: ‘Ew, you peed on our porch? That’s disgusting!’

‘I think he was six the first time, mom,’ Benji says with a chuckle and Lola starts to laugh as well, before adding: ‘And the last time he was ten.’

‘You wouldn’t, right?’ Jake asks, his eyes enlarged.

‘If you don’t zip it, I definitely will. I have tons up my sleeve,’ I say with a smile. ‘Okay, kids, I’ll be back around dinner time. Isabella and Yara, please don’t touch the stove and oven. If you need something, ask the older kids, okay?’

‘Yes,’ the two of them say.

‘If you guys need anything, just remember, Eve is next door and I’m one phone call away.’

The five of them nod. ‘We know.’

‘Also, I’d rather have something left to eat here, so please don’t be swines and eat everything.’

‘We won’t,’ they all say.

‘And—’

‘Amelia, just go!’ Lola laughs. ‘We know how to behave ourselves here. It’s not the first time we’re alone here.’

‘Yes, mom, we’ll manage,’ Benji adds.

I nod, realizing I’m totally overreacting. They are home alone here all the time, while I hang out with Eve and Johnny. This isn’t new. ‘Right, you are totally right. I’m so sorry.’

‘Have fun,’ my daughter says.

‘We will,’ I say, ‘and Jake, for the love of God, don’t say: but not too much fun.’

‘How did you know I was about to say that?’ he asks, his voice a bit higher from sheer surprise.

‘You are fairly predictable,’ Henry says. ‘Even I knew you were going to say that.’

I finally manage to leave the place with Henry and when we’re finally in his truck, I lean over to give him a long kiss on his soft lips. He hums against my mouth, as he places his rough hand on my cheek. I can’t believe he actually deepens the kiss, but I’m not complaining at all. I could kiss this man non stop for hours on end, without getting tired of it. When we let each other go, I smile. ‘I really missed you,’ I say, ‘though I saw you this morning. Is that too clingy?’

‘Not too clingy at all, because I missed you too. I can’t get quite enough of you.’ He starts the car when we put on the seatbelts and he says: ‘I bought the ingredients you told me to buy for the pies. I also bought some whipped cream, because Greg told me if I were going to eat one of your apple pies, there has to be whipped cream on top of it.’

‘Greg is an absolute angel for reminding you, because I am out of whipped cream and he is totally right. Did you know I won the pie baking contest back in middle school with my fabulous apple pie?’

‘I did not know,’ Henry says, as he drives off. He mindlessly places his hand on my leg and I can’t stop myself to place mine on top of it. ‘I really look forward to this,’ he admits. ‘I have never been apple picking before.’

‘It’s so much fun. Pro tip: you have to walk at least twenty minutes before you start picking. Then you find the best apples.’

‘Good thing I have an expert with me,’ he says. ‘Greg told me it would be fun.’

‘You tell Greg quite a lot,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘Well, no wonder he kept wiggling his eyebrows at me yesterday.’ I wrap my arms around his thick one, before placing my head on his bicep. When Dean and I were still married, I could never sit against him like this in the car, because our seats were separated. Henry’s truck allows me to scoot over a bit to the middle, so I can melt against his broad frame. ‘I’m sorry about Jake,’ I say.

‘Well, don’t be. I really love the way you are with not only your kids, but also with Eve’s. It truly shows how close you guys are. I think it’s great you two live next to one another and you can always lean on each other.’

‘It sure is.’

‘Tell me, Amelia, how was your day at school?’

I tell him about how the kids were sweet today and how we made some Halloween related drawings. I even mention the slight peeing incident, but also that it was no big deal really. ‘How was your day?’

‘It was okay,’ he says, but I can hear his voice flatten a bit.

I look to the side, only to discover a deep frown between his brows. From the looks of it, today was not okay. ‘What happened?’

‘My mother called,’ he says, ‘telling me to come back home.’

‘Oh,’ I say. That can’t be good? ‘Are you going back?’

‘No of course not, I just arrived here. Besides, my life here is much better than in Jersey.’ He sighs. ‘She thought it was a horrible idea to move here. She also didn’t approve of my choices of work and sure doesn’t like it I’m doing it overseas now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, when you have four brothers who are either with the Marines, lawyers and all that stuff, you could say I’m the loser of the family.’

‘Or are you the only one that followed their heart?’ I ask. ‘I mean, do you even know if your brothers enjoy what they do?’

He simply shrugs. It’s been hard on Henry to open up, I can see that. ‘Henry,’ I say, ‘when I grew up, I wanted to work at the mortuary.’

‘What?’ he asks. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I went to my granddad’s funeral and I was in that age where I wanted to experience everything. The woman who helped us arranging the funeral, I was in awe of her. I went with her probably the entire time and she told me what she did for a living. I was actually planning on becoming one, figuring out to what colleges I had to go to, but then I went to Korea. After I came back, I realized I didn’t want to work with the dead, but with the living and preferably our future.’ Realizing that, per usual, I’m about to miss the point I was going to make. ‘What I’m trying to say with this, was that every career move I had in mind, it wasn’t something my parents wanted me to do. They envisioned me becoming a doctor, or a a lawyer, owning my own business. But they just accepted all the choices I made, whether they liked it or not.’

Henry laughs. ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘I just can’t believe you wanted to work at a mortuary. You sure are quite something, Amelia.’

‘I like to keep on surprising.’

‘Figured. What about your kids?’

I chuckle. ‘They have interesting plans. Benji wants to become a career judoka, but I told him he needs to think about getting a degree. He might be quite the judoka now, but what if one day he gets injured or he doesn’t make it? So he came up with the idea of either becoming a dentist or a coach, like you.’

‘Really?’

‘Mhm and to be honest, I’m leaning more towards coach. I think he would be really good at that. He really has an eye for the details, with not only himself, but also with others. And Isabella wants to be famous, but she hasn’t figured out how she’ll get famous.’

He nods. ‘And you support them?’

‘Of course, they are my kids. The point is that your parents should accept you and your choices. The idea of parenting is that you prepare your kids to be ready for the world, not to dictate their lives. You might have an idea of what type of career fits them best, but they have to decide for themselves, make their own choices and mistakes. Besides, I could think of worse career moves. I mean, a judo coach is a great job and being famous… It’s quite something, I have to give her that and with Isabella’s personality, she would enjoy it so much. She loves being in the spotlights, preferably alone.’

‘You’re an excellent mother. Mine could learn a thing or two from you.’ Henry parks the car on the lot, but doesn’t get out. It’s almost like he wants to say something else to me. Knowing how hard it can be for some people to open up, I decide to wait and see whether or not he wants to tell me what is on his heart. ‘You know,’ he starts with a sigh, ‘my mom never went to one of my games.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ I ask him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Seeing these kids here, with their entire support system at the games, it warms my heart. I’m happy they have that.’

I study his face. ‘But you can be a bit jealous,’ I say. ‘That’s allowed.’

‘By you?’

‘By everyone. We all want something we didn’t have growing up and that’s normal. Parents try—or at least it appears as if they do—but they can never give their kids what they deserve. It pains me to know that there are things that I can’t provide for my kids or that I can’t meet their needs. I remember when I was doing my first internship at a primary school, I saw this mother who had four beautiful daughters. That’s what I wanted: sisters or brothers. I was all alone growing up and people would kill for that, but I just wanted a companion within my family. But my parents couldn’t give me that.’ I send him a reassuring smile. ‘Believe me, it can be hard to see kids who have what you have always wanted growing up or kids that are deprived of that what you had.’

Henry nods. ‘Wise woman you are.’

‘Shut up.’

‘I mean it! And just know that when I look over at the bleachers now and I see you, I realize that you are my support system.’

That is the sweetest thing someone has ever said to me.

We get out of the car and all the nerves I experienced back in my own house, are all gone now, especially when he reaches over to hold my hand. Being around Henry is so easy and it worried me  a bit I didn’t feel so tense and nervous around him. When I first started dating Dean, I was a nervous wreck for at least two months. But maybe it’s unfair to compare teen Amelia, to adult Amelia who is divorced and has two kids.

When we arrive at the apple picking field, Henry hands me a bucket and together we walk over the grass, finding the spot with the best apples. ‘So tell me all about the divorce, Henry.’

He chuckles. ‘How long have you been thinking about this?’

‘To be fair? The second you told me about it. I mean, who would divorce you?’

‘I could say the same thing about you. You are the catch of the town.’

‘You are too,’ I say.

He bites his bottom lip as he stares ahead of him. ‘Okay, so I told you that my parents wanted me to marry her and her family wanted her to marry me.’

‘Yes.’

‘And how she dated my friend behind my back and we got divorced, right?’

‘Yes. I’m just curious to why you agreed to it?’

He snickers. ‘It had to do with a trust fund.’

‘Trust fund? That is honestly a thing?’ I ask.

Henry nods. ‘It is. So, if I married her, I would eventually get access to the trust fund.’

Eventually. That isn’t promising. ‘But you got divorced,’ I note. ‘What happened to the trust fund?’

‘It is now a yacht, owned by my parents.’

I place my hand on his arm. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘Never expected the word fucking to leave the lips of kindergarten teacher Amelia Jung,’ he chuckles. ‘But no, I’m not kidding. When I divorced Vera, that’s my ex, they knew she slept with my best friend, but they blamed me.’

This is absolutely infuriating me. ‘You have to give me your parents’ number,’ I say in all seriousness, ‘so I can call them and tell them their parenting style is honestly unbelievable. Henry you are a grown man! You should decide for yourself who you are dating or what kind of career you want to pursue. And that trust fund thing, how low, my goodness.’

Henry chuckles. ‘You understand why I had to leave?’

‘Oh, I more than understand, I just wonder why you didn’t leave sooner. I really don’t want to talk badly about your parents since I don’t know them, but this crosses a line. What an idiots.’

He nudges my side. ‘This fired up look really suits you, Amelia,’ he admits. ‘I like it.’

I look up and he smiles. He is so beautiful, my oh my. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Always.’

‘How rich are your parents? I don’t need a number, but just an indication.’

‘They are pretty rich,’ he says. ‘Like, there is a possibility we would have marry a distant cousin to keep the money in the family, if there are no more trusted family friends who are single.’

Why do I know exactly what kind of family this is about? ‘I didn’t know Jersey had those types of rich.’

‘We keep on surprising,’ he chuckles. ‘Honestly, I never really fitted in, always the black sheep of the family. I’m just grateful I’m out of there and living my own life, even if it’s at age thirty eight.’

‘Luna Meadows sure is lucky to have you here.’ I stand on my toes, to give him a kiss on his soft lips. ‘You sure you don’t want me to call your parents?’

‘I don’t think they are ready for that,’ he smiles. ‘If they find out I’m dating you, they’ll flip.’

Oh my, we’re dating? Is that what he is saying? ‘Is it because I’m Korean?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, it’s more you having kids.’

‘Don’t your parents want grandkids? I thought everyone with kids is desperate to become grandparents.’

‘They do, just blood related grandkids.’

I simply scoff. ‘Your parents are a piece of work.’

‘You can say that again.’ I’m already opening my mouth, but he is way ahead of me. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he chuckles. We start picking some good looking apples, as the late autumn sun warms my back. ‘Okay Amelia, I see a nice apple, but I can’t reach.’

‘Well, that sucks,’ I say, ‘because of you can’t reach it, I certainly ca— Oh no! Henry, put me down!’ I scream as he wraps his arm around my legs, lifting me up.

‘It’s the one on your right,’ he tells me, but I have closed my eyes shut. ‘Come on, Jung, it’s not that high!’

‘It is!’ I say. ‘You know I’m afraid of heights.’

‘I know you are. Just pick that one apple.’

I manage to open only one eye and quickly grab the one on my right. After I nearly broke the branch while picking it, he carefully puts me down. ‘That wasn’t funny, coach Cavill,’ I tell him, pointing dangerously at him with my pointer finger.

‘Oh look at that,’ he chuckles, ‘the teacher-finger.’

I try not to smile, but I fail. ‘Shut up.’

He bites his bottom lip, only making my heart pound really fast. Is he aware of the effect he has on my heart, especially when he does that? Henry leans in to give me a quick peck on my lips.

Amelia, please, now is not the time to faint.

‘Excuse me,’ I hear a voice behind me say and I cannot believe it’s Trixie again. Of course she is here, to ruin my fantastic date. She accidentally sat in the booth next to me on my second date with Dean, together with her friends. ‘Coach Cavill, I wanted to talk to you about George, is now a good time?’

I want to smack that smug grin of her face. No, now isn’t a good time and any human being with even one braincell could’ve figured that out.

Henry clears his throat, obviously a little caught off guard. ‘Uh, what did you wanted to talk about?’ he asks, as he scratches himself in the back of his neck.

‘His progress.’

Well, I can tell her all about that: her twelve year old is just as bad as he was three years ago. There is no progress with George Yates.

‘I think we should have that conversation a little later,’ Henry says with a professional tone, ‘when we’re at the center for example. I have video material and all. We could have a chat tomorrow, before training.’

‘Can’t wait,’ she says. ‘Amelia, are you having fun?’

‘Mhm, we’re going to make an apple pie at his place,’ I say, holding up the basket. ‘Remember, back in middle school when we were in that pie baking contest and I made one of my famous apple pies. What did you make again?’

Her face grows pale.

‘Oh right, pecan pie, with that very dark crust.’

Trixie is ready to skin me alive and honestly, I can’t really blame her, because I have been in her shoes more than once. For years her words would stab me like knives and now it’s the other way around. I remember when I came back from Korea, the way she gave me a hard time because my band Forever Hope disbanded. I mean, what did she accomplishment in those years? A date with Lucas Yates?

However, back then I just ignored her, but now I can’t. She will do anything to discredit me, but after that last phone call I had with Eve, when Trixie told me how I did not want to host a baby shower and a sweet sixteen at the same time, I felt this newly gained power to not allow her words to get to me.

I came to the realization that Trixie is still stuck in her high school mentality, while I grew up and actually matured. This gossiping and undermining thing was ridiculous back in school, but now… It’s still ridiculous, but also just plain pathetic. And maybe my comments aren’t exactly mature, but this is honestly just a small part of the payback she deserves after all those years of nearly bullying me.

‘Well, Trixie, Henry and I have some baking to do. See you later.’ I grab Henry by his hand and pull him with me. Henry doesn’t say a word on our way back to the truck, but once we’re both seated, he starts to laugh. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘How much underlying anger was in that conversation?’

‘Oh, quite a lot,’ I chuckle. I try not to think about the whole kid thing, because I honestly think it’s too soon for Henry and I to have that discussion. ‘Trixie and I go way back and I just felt this need to tell her off. Sorry.’

‘No need for apologies, remember?’ He places his hand on my leg and gives me a comforting squeeze. ‘Just so you know: I like you seeing you like this.’ He leans over and presses a kiss on my lips. ‘Now let’s go and make that famous apple pie of yours.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Making apple pie with Henry was nearly impossible. For starters, I had to make a checklist of every single thing that needed to be done at his place and spoiler alert: it’s a lot. I don’t want to call this place a dump, but… It kind of resembles one, if I’m being honest. When I finally managed to get myself to the kitchen, he continued to distract me with hugs and kisses. I mean, it’s not the worst thing I could think of (it was quite romantic), but once I’m baking pies, there is just this instant switch and I have a severe case of tunnel vision.

But of course, I managed to pull it off, with shockingly little help of Henry (but he made it all up by being handsome and handing me the stuff I needed). Now we are waiting for the three pies to cool a bit, as we are sitting on the couch. ‘I didn’t get any texts from the kids,’ I say, as I stare at my phone. ‘Or Eve for that matter. Are they okay?’

‘I think you are worrying too much.’

‘I’m not,’ I tell him, but when I look up and see his eyes, I realize I’m lying. ‘Okay, maybe I worry too much. It’s a trait I got only after the divorce. I usually was pretty chilled, very laid back, however when they went to their dad for the first time after the divorce… I was a nervous wreck. I think I finished up an entire bottle of wine and some.’

‘Oh no,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m sorry.’ He wraps an arm around my shoulders and lets out a sigh. ‘But I think it’s a mom’s job to worry.’

‘Yeah, part of the job, indeed.’

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then he breaks the silence by saying: ‘You know, I keep thinking about Benji and that… anger outburst he had the other day.’

‘I know, I know, we’re trying to work on it, but… He just bottles up all of his emotions and then they come out uncontrolled. It’s so uncharacteristic of him, but he has been having them since he was little. I just worry sometimes he might hurt someone.’

‘I understand,’ Henry whispers.

‘But when he was younger, he would also save it when it was just us, when his dad wasn’t around. Probably because I just let him have his rage, before finally stopping when it was about to get out of hand. Dean on the other hand would get really angry. I think he felt and still feels safer to do it when he is with me.’

‘Understandable.’

‘I just worry a lot and that resulted in quite a few grey hairs.’

‘Listen,’ he says, ‘you are doing an excellent job, that I can guarantee. I mean, listen only to my parents and how much of a train wreck they are.’

I chuckle. ‘That’s a wonderful compliment, thanks for that, Henry.’

‘You understand what I mean.’

‘I sure do and… I know I’m doing good, but sometimes I just lack so much in my own opinion.’ I lean towards him, to press a long kiss on his lips. Before he can say anything to that last statement I made, I say: ‘We should get going. Think the pies are ready.’

‘And you desperately want to get back to your children, copy that.’

Henry and I get in his truck, with the slightly steaming pies covered in tea towels so you won’t burn your hands when you hold them. I adore being in a car with him, especially when he places his hand on my thigh. When we arrive home, Henry holds the pies in his hands and when I open the door, I only hear Isabella’s and Benji’s laughs, meaning the other kids went home. I’ll bring the other pie to Eve’s tonight. ‘Hi sweeties,’ I say when I walk into the living room, seeing the two of them on the couch.

‘Mom!’ They jump up and rush towards me and hug me close. ‘How was it?’ Benji asks.

‘It was wonderful,’ Henry says, ‘and you kids are lucky your mom loves you a lot, because otherwise I would’ve eaten all of this all by myself.’

Benji holds out his hands to help Henry out and brings the pies to the kitchen. Isabella jumps up and with one arm he balances her on his hip. ‘You wouldn’t, right?’

‘Oh, I think he would,’ I chuckle.

We walk to the kitchen, where Benji already has four plates prepared. ‘Oh shoot,’ I say to Henry, ‘I left the whipped cream in the car.’

‘I’ll get it, no worries,’ he says with a smile, before turning around, as he grabs his keys from the counter.

When he is out of hearing distance, Isabella pokes my arm. ‘And?’

‘And what?’ I ask her.

‘Did you two kiss again?’

The fact that I’m stammering, is the answer to her question. ‘Why do you care?’ Benji asks his little sister.

‘It’s just so romantic,’ she exclaims and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pressing her cheek against mine.

Henry walks back in with the whipped cream, tosses it up, before catching it with his other hand. Show off, I think to myself. ‘Who wants some?’ he asks.

‘I do, I do!’ Isabella says.

‘On your nose or on the pie?’ Henry asks with a smile.

‘On the pie,’ she chuckles. ‘You are a pig.’

‘You can’t just call people pigs,’ I say to her, softly squeezing her side.

‘You do it all the time, mom.’

‘Some things need to stay within the Jung family, honey,’ I whisper in her ear. ‘Okay, Isabella, pick a piece.’

We take our plates with the piece of pie and the whipped cream and sit at the table. Benji is seated next to me and when I look to the side, I notice him looking at Henry and how he is treating Isabella. I bump my knee against his and our eyes meet. My sweet boy, I think to myself. He sends me a quick smile and I chuckle.

‘Benji and Isabella, do you mind if I talk to you two about something?’

‘Is it something we did?’ Benji asks, his voice dripping with worry.

I place my hand on his wrist. ‘No, sweetheart, it’s nothing you did.’

Henry shakes his head. ‘It’s just something I need you to know.’

Isabella looks up to the side, as she takes in the broad man next to him. ‘What is it?’

‘Well I want you two to know that… Just because I’m dating your mom, doesn’t mean I’m trying to steal her away from you nor to become your new dad. She is still your mom and you two are her number one priorities.’

My daughter chuckles. ‘Henry, we know all that.’

‘And we are more than happy to share our mom with you,’ Benji tells him.

While Henry is a bit surprised, I am not, because I just knew my kids would react like this. ‘Really?’ He can’t help but smile and that melts my heart.

‘Really,’ my two kids confirm and I smile when I see how happy the three of them are. ‘Is there anything you wish I know or you expect from me?’ He looks over at Isabella, who already opened her mouth. ‘And that does not involve watching television with you passed your bedtime,’ he says, causing her to pout.

‘Just make my mom happy,’ Benji says and if my heart wasn’t completely melted away, it is now.

‘Honey,’ I say, as I wrap my arms around his neck. I can feel he is rolling his eyes. ‘You are too sweet.’

‘Mom, stop,’ he laughs.

‘My boy is such a darling,’ I continue, simply to pester him.

‘Mom!’ Benji says, trying to push me off, but I’m simply too strong for now.

‘I did such a good job raising you,’ I chuckle, as I pepper his cheek with kisses.

‘Mom!’ He starts to laugh and I actually let him go now. ‘Don’t hug me like that again, but I meant what I said. Just make my mom happy and then I’m happy.’

‘I can do that,’ Henry says. ‘I promise.’

[eldritchteaparty]

Chapters: 19/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Allan Schrieber Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting, Spiders Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: The group settles on a course of action much faster than Martin imagined they would.

Chapter 19 of my post-canon fix-it fic is up! Read at AO3 above or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin was still tired as they drew close to Hill Top Road the next morning. It wasn’t surprising; the best sleep he’d gotten, other than the first few hours he’d slept before the spiders, had been in Allan’s car on the way out. He’d slept completely through their stop in Canterbury, where Allan had picked up his lab equipment. He woke up with his head on Jon’s shoulder in the back seat of the car, just a few miles from their destination.

“Ow,” he said as he straightened up, his neck cracking.

“I told you you could stay home,” Jon said. “You barely slept.”

“Don’t.” Martin was cross as he rolled his neck, trying to work out the cramp, and Jon put a hand on his arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s all right.”

That about doubled the number of words they’d said to each other that morning—and now they were here, back at Hill Top Road. From the street, the house appeared less foreboding than it had the last time; it seemed brighter, somehow, despite the cloudiness of the day. Maybe the owner had been back—or maybe the most recent occupant had left.

Martin waited for Tim to get out of the seat in front of him, then got out of the car himself. He hadn’t really spoken to Tim directly since he’d shown up yesterday, and wasn’t at all sure how Tim was feeling toward him. He was therefore both reassured and taken back when Tim put a hand on his shoulder on his way to the boot of the car.

I must be looking pretty good, he thought. They’re not even asking if I’m ok anymore.

It was just the four of them; Elias and the others had opted to stay together at the house. Jon had of course wanted to go, and that meant Martin went too; Tim had also made up his mind to go once he knew Jon was going. Martin watched as Allan opened the boot and began to pull out a number of padded carrying cases of different sizes, handing a few to Tim as he did.

“I know I fell asleep, sorry—what exactly are you—”

“We’re going to attempt to measure this—gap between the dimensions.” He handed Martin one final bag, and closed the boot as he did. “All of these instruments are designed to measure different types of energy.”

“They’re all from your lab?”

“Most of them,” Allan said, a small grin on his face; Tim shook his head.

“If I get in trouble for any of that—”

“I told you, no one will even know they’re missing. We’ll get it all back this afternoon.”

“So wait—this will show what, that the gap—exists?” Martin asked.

Allan shrugged. “Well—in all honesty, not really. If we get no unusual readings, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It could just mean we don’t know how to measure it. And if we do—it doesn’t really tell us why. It would just be—well, consistent with some combination of my ideas about the entities and dimensional travel, really.”

“Um—oh. Ok.”

Jon sighed, and Martin recognized it specifically as Jon’s impatient sigh. It was one he had heard a lot in the past, although not so much recently. He supposed from Jon’s perspective, it was kind of a waste of time to not really prove the existence of something he already knew was there. As far as Martin was concerned, though, they could take all the time they wanted.

As they approached the porch, Martin found his impression from the street had been correct. There were many fewer cobwebs on the porch than there had been the last time. The lock, however, was still broken when Jon tried the door, which suggested the owner had not been back.

“You think she’s gone?” he asked Jon.

“Yes.”

“Who?” Tim looked at them suspiciously.

“Annabelle,” Jon replied casually.

“Annabelle.” Tim halted at the top of the steps on the front porch. “She’s here? Was here?”

“Was. I would have said something if—" He trailed off as he saw the look on Tim’s face. “Yes, well, the point is she’s not here.”

“Sure,” Tim said, in a way that made it clear he was not at all sure, but he did follow the rest of them into the house.

“This way.” Jon led them back to the spot in the center of the house where the scarred floorboards resided.

He’s so confident. Martin remembered how different it had been the last time they were here. Jon had been so sick; he had been grasping at straws for any way to regain his connection to the Eye. Martin certainly hadn’t wanted that to happen, but he also hadn’t wanted him to be miserable. Now, though, Jon was pushing ahead, jumping in—he was eager, excited even. Given the circumstances, Martin didn’t like it much more than he had liked things the last time they were here.

“That’s it?” Allan said, staring down at the floor. “Not really what I was expecting.”

“Well—obviously it’s not the gap itself,” Jon explained with slight irritation, as if he were offended at Allan’s disappointment. “It’s a representation of it. Certainly someone would have reported it if it were a cavernous maw extending into the infinite reaches of—”

“Yes, all right,” Allan, unbothered, set down the equipment he was carrying and seated himself on the floor next to it. “Let’s see—Tim, bring those over here, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim set his bags down on the floor next to Allan and stepped back near Martin to observe.

“So I’m thinking—hmm—let’s just start with this.” He unpacked a small handheld meter and held it up for them to see. “This is a Geiger counter.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “That’s for radiation, right?”

“Yes,” Allan replied, as he pressed a button and the instrument’s screen flickered to life. He looked up in their direction just long enough to catch the anxious look on Martin’s face.

“No need to worry,” Allan said cheerfully as he stood up. “I’ll be looking at this from several angles, and this is just somewhere to start. Don’t let the idea of radiation bother you. There’s some level of radiation around us all the time—background radiation, it’s completely—well, not harmless, exactly, but well within the bounds of what the human body can withstand. This particular instrument is sensitive enough that we should be able to see relatively minor deviations from what we’d expect.”

“Oh,” Martin said, not knowing what else to say.

“All right, here we go.” Allan held the instrument up in the air and pressed a button and waited while it emitted an uneven series of a few clicks, and then checked the screen. He repeated this several more times, then nodded.

“Well?” Tim asked.

“Oh, sorry. I haven’t really done anything yet, just measuring background levels. Nothing out of the ordinary, pretty much what you’d expect for this part of England. But now I’ll know what I’m comparing to when I measure—that.” He gave another unimpressed look at the jagged mark running over the floor before bending over it with the instrument in hand. He moved it close to the mark and repeated the same process of measurements—pressing a button and then waiting for the clicks, then repositioning it to another spot, pressing the button and waiting again. “Huh.”

“What?” Martin couldn’t read Allan’s expression at all.

“Nothing,” Allan said, shrugging as he stood straight again. “I was averaging in my head, of course, so I might not be quite right, but—it would be like taking your temperature and reading 37 degrees exactly.”

Martin was relieved, but Jon, standing apart from the rest of the group, did not seem to be feeling the same way.

“Well, let’s move on,” Allan said, returning to his equipment pile and choosing a new device. “Let’s try this one. It’s for—oh—electromagnetic fields, radio frequencies—it’s sort of a cheap piece of equipment, actually, not very precise—but it should give us a good general picture.” He squatted down next to the mark on the floor again, adjusted a dial on the instrument, and began to move it closer and further away. He adjusted the dial several times as he continued to move it around the floor.

“Still nothing,” he said after a few minutes, sitting back on his haunches.

“Then that’s not the right way to measure it,” Jon said.

“I said when we came in that was a strong possibility,” Allan said, but it was clear Jon didn’t like this turn of events. “I’ve got a few more things we can—"

“It’s here,” Jon said.

“Can’t you just know the right way to measure it, then?” Tim’s tone was sarcastic, but Jon paused.

“Well…” He concentrated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Apparently I can’t.” His growing frustration was obvious.

“Hey.” Now that Martin was starting to feel a bit easier about everything, he felt a little bit bad for Jon. “That’s—that’s all right. That just means we’ll need more time to—”

Martin’s attempt at soothing him didn’t work. “But it’s right there. Damn it, I know it’s there. I can feel it, it’s like it’s just on the other side of—”

“Oh,” Allan said. Martin’s eyes jumped back to the instrument in his hand, still hovering just over the mark in the floor, and there was some kind of movement on the digital screen. A moment later, it had gone quiet again.

“What was that?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know.” Allan frowned. “It’s like there was a sudden—pulse of electrical activity. A lot of it.”

“Jon,” Tim said, looking over at him, “did you do something? While you were talking?”

“That couldn’t possibly—” Allan started to say, but Jon cut him off.

“Yes,” Jon said. “I—I don’t know, I was looking for the—well, really, the tape—it’s—”

“Oh,” Allan said again, as the numbers on the screen resumed their movement. He walked it intently over different parts of the floor, then moved it further away and then closer again. Martin couldn’t really follow the whole thing from where he was standing, but Allan’s body language was enough to concern him. “This—this doesn’t make sense. Even if—Jon, stop. Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

“All right.”

“Incredible,” Allan said after a moment had passed. “That really shouldn’t be possible. There’s no—” He stood and walked toward Jon, and extended the meter toward him. “Do it one more time.”

“Don’t—” Martin started.

“I’m all right,” Jon snapped, but then softened as Martin felt the slight sting of his tone. “I’m—I’ll be careful. I’m fine right now.”

Allan was concentrating hard as he looked at the screen. “What was—have you done it yet?”

“No, I was—”

“It’s just that—never mind. Do it again. If—if you’re ok.”

Jon nodded, and glanced briefly in Martin’s direction. “I’m ok.”

Martin watched as Allan moved the instrument around Jon for the next thirty seconds or so, again switching the dial several times.

“Well?” Tim asked, as Allan stepped away.

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “Tim, can you—can you fetch the Geiger counter for me again?”

Tim did, and Allan stood back from Jon as he held it up into the air again. They heard the occasional irregular click as he did.

“So for now, don’t, um—just don’t,” he said as he stepped toward Jon. The frequency of the clicks began to increase as he moved the meter closer to his head, and Allan made a small sound in his throat as he flipped a switch on the instrument. “Let’s just—keep the sound off for right now.”

Martin could feel some of the blood drain from his face.

“Ok, now—know something,” Allan asked.

“What?” Jon said. “Sorry, it’s always difficult to think of—”

“Anything. Just not the—the gap. I want to see if—”

“Did I have coffee or tea this morning?” Tim asked.

Jon thought. “Coffee.”

“Stop,” Allan said. “Stop.” He took a step back, white faced, and looked at Jon as if he had just appeared there.

“What?”

“Can I ask—how long did you say you’ve been doing this?”

“Knowing things? Uh—a few years? I mean—not always like this, at first it was much harder, and—"

“A few years.” Allan turned the thought over. “Ok. I’m going to say this once—because I think you should know. I don’t see—I don’t see how you’re—well, alive.”

There were long seconds of silence before Jon answered.

“I’m fine.”

Martin exploded. “You are not fine.”

“I just meant in the sense that—”

“I know, and—”

“I am alive. That is the point.”

More long seconds ticked by.

“You heal though, right?” Tim said quietly. “Like—after you—like when I found you in front of the Institute.”

“Yes.” A look of sudden understanding passed across Jon’s face. “Yes, that’s right. That—that would make sense.”

“Would it?” Allan looked at Martin. “You, um—sorry to—you’re—well, you’re sharing a room, so—I imagine you’re—close?”

Martin wasn’t sure what Allan was getting at. “Um—”

“Yes. He heals too. Or, he has, in the past.” Oh, Martin thought, after he heard Jon’s answer.

Oh.

“Wait. Are you saying that being near Jon is—”

“I don’t know,” Allan said. “I really don’t know. This is entirely unprecedented. It really shouldn’t—” He started to say something else, but hesitated.

“What?” Jon asked.

“I—” he hesitated again. “I want to do more tests, but I’m not sure if it’s—well, entirely ethical.”

“To ask me to keep going, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Allan looked at Martin.

“It’s not up to me,” Martin said.

Allan looked between Martin and Jon. “I’m, uh—I’m going to run out to the car for some extra equipment. Tim, come with me? I could use your help.”

“Sure,” Tim answered, and followed him out.

Martin waited a moment after they were gone, then said quietly, “I’m not sleeping away from you.”

“Martin.” Jon walked over to where he was standing and reached out to touch Martin’s hand. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good.” He had more to say, but he didn’t.

“Come on. That’s not what this is about. You don’t want me to do this.”

Martin sighed. “Fine. No, I don’t. I don’t want you to do any of this. Not just the tests, or whatever. Like—any of this.”

“I have to,” Jon said. “You know that.”

“Why do you think I didn’t say it? I can’t stop you. And I’d rather you not shut me out.”

“Martin, that—” He stopped himself, and squeezed Martin’s hand instead. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Martin let his hand fall away as Allan and Tim returned; Allan had put on a long-sleeved lab coat, and was holding a pair of gloves and a mask. “Just a precaution,” he said. “If you want to go ahead.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “I do.”

Martin watched as Allan pulled out yet another meter from a different bag. “Martin—can you hand me that?” he asked, indicating the case Martin was still carrying. He’d forgotten about it.

“Oh. Sure.” Martin handed it to him and he began to unpack that as well.

“So—this is so I can record the readings,” he said, as he pulled some wires out and began to connect them to the new meter. “And this is—it uses a more powerful method of detection than the Geiger counter. It’s not as sensitive, but that’s, uh—well, that’s not going to be an issue.”

Martin suddenly realized how much he didn’t want to be there anymore.

“I’m going outside. I’ll just be out front.” Without waiting for anyone’s reaction, he made his way back to the front of the house. He stood on the porch, his arms folded and resting on the railing. He looked out over the lawn. The rest of the neighborhood, apart from this house, really was a suburb. It seemed nice enough; maybe not a great neighborhood, but not a bad one, certainly. It hadn’t really done anything to deserve this awful place.

He sat and watched the clouds roll overhead and wondered it if would rain. He tried not to think too much about what was going on inside the house, what they were doing and where it would lead. He had no idea how long he had been standing there when he became aware that he wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” Tim said, as Martin looked over at him.

“Hey,” Martin answered, then went back to looking up at the sky. “So—what’s going on in there?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “It’s like some sort of weird playdate? It’s over my head. Allan keeps turning dials and saying things like incredible and amazing and then Jon—”

“Never mind,” Martin said. “Just—is he keeping himself together? Jon, I mean?”

“He seems to be.”

They looked out at the sky and lawn together.

“Martin,” Tim said eventually, “I know I said this before, but I want you to know I meant it. Jon is lucky to have you.”

“Hm.”

“Listen, I know—I know this has to be hard for you. Before we—before we make any decisions, I want you to know that—”

“Don’t,” Martin said coldly.

“All right.” Tim nodded and returned to looking back over the railing. “Do you want to be alone?”

No, Martin thought. I don’t ever want to be alone again. He wanted to scream it.

Instead, he just said, “Not particularly.”

“Good,” Tim said. “I don’t particularly want to go back in there.”

***

“So—wait,” Melanie said, looking at Allan over her half-empty dinner plate. “You’re saying you don’t really know anything at all, then?”

“Well, yes and no.” He was struggling to find words as they sat together in the great room again. “What I’m saying is—from a scientific perspective, which of course is why I’m here—there’s no way to know what any of this means. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. It’s completely unique, as far as I know.”

“So we can’t prove there’s a gap between dimensions, and we can’t prove the entities exist,” Sasha clarified.

“Correct,” Allan said. “I can’t even begin to suggest a mechanism for anything I saw today.”

“But you did see something today,” Melanie prodded.

“Well—yes,” Allan said. “That’s an understatement. We saw massive fluctuations of energy just—across almost the entire spectrum. And—again, I have no way to explain it or understand it, but—Jon does appear to be able to manipulate it, to some extent.”

“Well, that’s definitely something,” Melanie said. “You said you recorded your readings. Do you think you’ll learn anything else from going back through them?”

“Not—not in a way that could help us. It will take years to even begin to make any real sense of this. As—as a scientist. To be perfectly clear, I—I can’t vouch for any particular course of action. I have no way of verifying that there has ever been any travel across dimensions, or that—starting an apocalypse would provide the energy required to do it again, or—or that anything we discussed yesterday is even a possibility.”

“As a scientist,” Georgie repeated. “What about—as a person? What do you think?”

“I’m—I’m not sure that’s really what’s important here.”

“Yes, it is.” It was one of the few things Elias had said at all since they’d come home.

“I agree,” Sasha said. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“Well—personally”—he looked around at the group— “after what I’ve heard from all of you, and after talking with Elias last night—I believe Jon.”

It was quiet for a moment as the group absorbed this. Martin’s stomach, which had already rejected even the concept of any food he’d thought about putting in it that night, tightened painfully.

“Ok,” Georgie said slowly. “Well—for the sake of argument—Jon, do you really think you could do it? Could you—could you really move us to another dimension? In a way that—well, will actually help things?”

“I can do it,” Jon said, without hesitation.

“No,” Martin said.

The discomfort was tangible; Martin could tell nobody wanted to speak.

“Martin,” Sasha finally said, “why—why are you so against this?”

“I’ve already said. It’s too dangerous.”

“So you think he can’t do it? That it won’t work?”

Martin drew his hand down firmly over his mouth.

“Say what you have to say,” Jon urged him. Martin didn’t care for how calm he was. “They should hear it.”

Martin stared at him. “Ok, fine. Fine, I’ll say it. If you think you can do it—I’m sure you can. I’m just not sure you will. What if—what if this time—what if the Eye finally just takes you?”

“It won’t. It didn’t last time.”

“Didn’t it?”

“No. Not—not like that. I still—I still got to choose.”

“And we still don’t know what Annabelle’s been trying to get you to do.”

“She doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Do you believe me that I’ll never let them out of here? The entities? That’s what she wants.”

Martin paused; he knew his panic was coming across to everyone. “Yes. But that’s not—even if you don’t—look, if it fails, that’s it for us. We’re stuck in an apocalypse. This world is stuck in an apocalypse. You said that yourself.”

“And it’s still true. It is a risk. But I don’t think I’ll fail.”

“But what happens to you? What if—what if we lose you?”

Jon looked away.

“Jon?” Georgie prompted.

“It’s—it’s a possibility.”

“How much of a possibility?” Georgie asked.

“It’s—um—” Jon cleared his throat. “It’s not unlikely.”

“I see,” Sasha said.

“That matters, right?” Martin somehow managed to get the words out. “Tell me that matters to the rest of you.”

“Of course it matters,” Sasha said. “I didn’t—"

“No, it doesn’t,” Jon said.

“Jon—”

Several people began to talk at the same time, but it was Tim who won out.

“Listen,” he said. “Listen. I know—I know this is going to sound awful, but—I agree with Jon.”

“It does sound awful,” Sasha reprimanded him. “It sounds completely awful.”

“Just hear me out.” Tim spoke his words slowly and deliberately. “If I were Jon—if I could stop this—if I had this chance to—to save the people they haven’t hurt yet—I would. I wouldn’t hesitate. And I wouldn’t want anyone to stop me.”

“Yes, you would,” Jon said. “You did.”

“And—I know I’ve been angry—but this isn’t about that. It’s not because I blame him. It’s because he’s the only one who can. I think—I think this should be Jon’s choice. That’s all.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Jon was still calm, controlled. Martin hated it.

Tim briefly met Martin’s eyes before looking down to the floor in front of him. “And I wouldn’t wait. I’d—I’d want to just do it. If we really can’t learn anything else, I say we do it soon. Tomorrow, if we can. Prevent as much further damage as possible.”

“I agree,” Jon said.

“No,” Martin said. “That’s insane. Are you insane?” He looked around at the group; none of them would look back at him. “Have you all lost your minds? Are you considering this?”

“I—I don’t know,” Sasha said, finally raising her face. “Are we?”

“Jesus Christ.” Martin got to his feet, not really sure where he was going; he was halfway there before he realized he was headed for the door to the back of the house. Behind him, he heard several people speaking, although he had no idea if they were talking to him; he couldn’t process it anymore. He couldn’t think at all until he felt the cool night air on his face. He stopped, heart pounding, and crumpled onto the porch against the back of the house. For the first time in his recent memory, he wanted to cry; of course, now he couldn’t make the tears come.

Behind him, he heard the door open and close.

“Go away.” He didn’t really care who it was.

“I’d rather not.” Beside him, Jon lowered himself onto the porch; for some reason, Martin had assumed it would be one of the others. He was surprised to find he felt slightly mollified. “We don’t have to talk. It’s just—I don’t have anywhere else I want to be right now.”

“Come off it. Go back in and keep explaining why you need to martyr yourself.”

“I’ve said what I need to say. It’s better if they talk without us.”

Martin sighed heavily. “They’re going to go for it, aren’t they?”

Jon didn’t answer him. Instead, he moved closer to Martin, leaning into him and resting his head on his shoulder. Hollow as he felt, Martin didn’t even think; his automatic response was to put his arm around Jon, pulling him in even closer. He pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s ear.

“We never had a chance, did we,” he said. “The two of us.”

“We still might.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“I never believed we’d be here, either.” Jon said.

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Jon turned so that his back was against Martin’s chest, and Martin did what he always did; he slipped his hand up under the edge of Jon’s shirt, bringing it up to the scar on Jon’s ribcage. Instead of protesting or merely tolerating it, though, this time Jon brought his own hand to rest over Martin’s on the outside of his shirt.

“I loved you here too, you know,” Jon said quietly. “Before this, I mean. In this world.”

“Oh, I know,” Martin said.

“Well. Here I thought I was making a grand romantic confession, but—never mind, I guess.”

“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” He kissed Jon’s temple softly by way of apology. “Thank you. I just meant now that—now that we’ve been together, now that I know what you’re like when you—it’s sort of obvious, looking back. Plus, there was your pin.”

“My pin?”

“You know—when we had forgotten everything when we first—and you couldn’t remember your pin number on your laptop.”

“Oh,” Jon said, and even in the dark Martin saw a smile play across his lips. It had been too long since he had seen Jon smile. “Right. I used your birthday. That’s—is it odd that I feel embarrassed?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Sasha just—she insisted I set it in front of her, and then she kept guessing them—”

“Because you kept typing 1234.”

“Well—yes, but—anyway, it just came into my head, and I knew no one would ever guess, because—because I was never going to tell anyone how I felt. Especially not you.”

“Yeah, well—I wasn’t going to either.” He held Jon tighter. “We’re a couple of idiots. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” Jon turned his face up and back, and Martin couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Martin,” Jon said, “I know—I know I’ll never change your mind.”

“If it were me, you would never go along with it. You would never let me—you didn’t, actually.”

“I—” Jon paused. “No. You’re right. I’m asking you to do something I couldn’t do.”

“Thank you.”

“I just—I want you to understand. I want you to hear me.” He paused.

“I’m listening.”

“Nothing will ever fix what I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do this. Jonah Magnus did this. The Web did this. The—never mind. Go on.”

“Nothing will ever undo it. Every day I think about—about Sasha. And Tim. And Daisy. The other ones, the ones who—and an entire world of human beings who suffered because of things I did. And then there’s everyone here in this world who—none of them should ever have—” Jon’s voice cracked. “But I can stop it. I can make it so it doesn’t get worse. Or at least—at least give it a real chance. And I have to try.”

“And you have to try tomorrow.”

“Tim was right, Martin. Every day that passes like this is—”

“Tim is just worried about Danny.”

“Is that wrong of him?”

“I—no. No, I guess not. My point is just that it’s not like he’s—it’s still completely selfish.”

“He’s not being any more selfish than you.”

“I know that.” His chest ached as he breathed in, and he sighed reflexively. Jon turned just enough to tuck his head against Martin’s collarbone, and he felt his chest loosen just a little. “Ok, but really—what about Annabelle? That’s not being selfish. We both know what she wants—but we have no idea how she’s trying to get it. And we’re probably walking into it.”

“Probably.”

“Well then, why—”

“Because I don’t intend to give it to her.”

“But that’s exactly the point, we don’t know how—”

“Do you really think that waiting will solve that? Even if she is trying to push me—do you really think that she won’t just—change tactics? Adapt?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“If we wait to—I don’t know, learn something, let something happen that she doesn’t want—do you really believe she won’t have some other plan?”

He hadn’t ever thought that far ahead, to what would happen after they waited, whatever that meant. He realized with a sinking heart that no, he didn’t really believe it.

“But then—why are we doing anything at all? Why are we even bothering? If we can’t ever do the right thing—”

“Because we have to try. I have to try. I just do. Doing nothing would be—and maybe—maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Yeah. That—that’s our thing, for sure. Luck.”

Jon reached for Martin’s free hand, the one that wasn’t against his heart, and pulled it to his mouth; he kissed each knuckle in turn. “We haven’t been entirely unlucky.”

Martin was out of things to say. Once more, Jon had already won. Everyone in the room behind them was deciding to go ahead with this stupid plan. There was nothing he could do that was going to stop it.

Well—as he thought about it, he did have one more thing to say.

“Jon—I don’t—I don’t want to go into this like—like last time. So—just so you know—nothing’s changed. I’m going with you. Wherever that is.”

Jon held his breath for a moment before answering. “And if I can save you—"

“Then you’d better save both of us.”

“Martin—”

“No. You know what’s out there for me without you, and—I don’t want it. You can’t—" Jon turned suddenly in his arms, so that Martin’s hand slid from his ribs to his shoulder.

He kissed him.

“Jon—”

“Please.”

They were still kissing several minutes later when Jon abruptly sat up; he opened his mouth to say something, but then learned back in toward Martin.

“No,” Martin said, putting a hand up to Jon’s face. “You know something, don’t you? They decided and you know.”

Jon nodded, sliding his hand over Martin’s as he did. “Yes.”

“Ok.”

“They want to do it. Tomorrow.”

***

It was hours later; Martin didn’t know how long he had lain awake. He’d come back to the bedroom on his own at first; he’d stayed for some of the planning, listened to their excitement, their nerves, their arguing—but it had quickly gotten to the point where he couldn’t do it anymore. He knew where he would be anyway, and that was with Jon; he had nothing else to contribute. The looks he’d gotten when he’d stood up had been seared into his consciousness, a mixture of worry and pity.

“Martin,” Sasha called to him as he was leaving, “are you—”

“Yes,” he’d said.

He’d gone to brush his teeth before getting in bed. He didn’t know what possessed him, particularly, but when he saw his reflection in the mirror, he did something he hadn’t done in a long while. He removed his shirt to look at his own scars. They were still there; they were exactly the same as they had been on the day he’d first seen them, dark red to pale white, torn and jagged and alternately smooth.

He was tired, he’d realized. He wanted to sleep, of course, he was still exhausted from the night before—but it was more than that. This was all just enough. Maybe it was all right. Maybe he and Jon had already had more time than they were meant to. Maybe it was time to let it go. Just—just so long as he didn’t end up alone.

He’d gotten in bed. He’d almost fallen asleep before Jon had come in, but after Jon had undressed and slipped under the sheets next to him, the restlessness had begun. Each time Jon moved, or sighed, or breathed even a little bit out of rhythm, Martin’s brain nudged him awake again. And now, here he was, sleepless and empty.

He breathed out, trying to reset his mind.

“Martin.”

“Sorry.” He’d thought Jon had been asleep.

“What—no, don’t apologize, just—go to sleep. You need rest for tomorrow.”

“I can’t.”

There was silence, and for a moment, he thought Jon had drifted off again.

“Martin, I’m—I’m not leaving you. I won’t go without you. You need to sleep.”

“I—I know.” He was lying, and Jon knew he was lying.

“Martin, this isn’t—this isn’t like last time. For one thing, I’d—I’d have to steal a car to get back to London on my own. All right? Can you trust me?”

Martin swallowed; that was exactly the problem, he realized. “I want to. I just—”

“Ok. All right. You’re right, of course you—that’s not fair for me to ask. I—hang on.” He saw the light from Jon’s cell phone; he heard him stand up and rummage through the suitcase on his side of the bed before sitting down on the mattress again.

“Jon—”

“Here. Give me your hand.” He held up his arm; Jon grabbed his hand, and Martin realized Jon was trying something around their wrists in the light from the phone.

“What—”

“It’s an old drawstring that pulled out from a pair of shorts. I never took it out of my suitcase.” He grabbed one end of the string in his mouth and pulled with his other hand. “There. I can’t possibly untie that without waking you up.”

“Are you going to be able to sleep?”

“I think so.” Jon turned off the light on his phone, and Martin felt the tug on his arm as Jon leaned over to put it back on the table next to the bed. “Anyway, I’m—I’m all right. You’re—not.”

“This—” Martin started to laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

“Yes. It is. Does it matter?” Jon interlaced his fingers with Martin’s and carefully folded up their bound arms between them; he brought his head to rest on the pillow next to Martin’s shoulder.

“I—I guess not.” He didn’t even realize he was finally crying until Jon reached up with his other hand to touch his cheek. He felt better for it, somehow; feeling something was good. It was better than the emptiness.

“Sleep.”

He did.

[equalseleventhirds]

napping did provide some Clarity and i think.... i think. i liked the THEMES of the tma finale. and i liked the CHARACTER STUFF in the finale. the mutual betrayal, the love in spite of it, the differing moral standpoints, martin stabbing jon, all good stuff.

but ever since 197, maybe even 196, i’ve been ambivalent at best about the web’s whole... thing, with being sentient and having a plan and stuff? so i simply could not connect to its plan going through as The Big Ending like, emotionally.

and part of it is just that like... what we were previously told about the fears was so contrary to this; that they are not sentient like humans, that they do not know themselves, that they are far removed & different from humanity, that no one not even jon in the apocalypse can really understand them or their thoughts, that the way humans interact with them is based on vague and confusing feelings and arbitrary definitions that fail to capture their fullness.

(like, yes this is about soup, but it’s also not about soup, it’s about the entities being unknowable and far distant from human sentience, and then kind of abruptly very knowable and pretty close to human sentience after all, and throwing that in there in the last episodes of the podcast felt..... weird, to me.)

like, way way back in s3 when gerry explained the fears, they are alien and unknowable and everything people think about them is guessing. simon in s4 has that whole thing about how none of the avatars know what the fears really want or how to give it to them, and the monsters have it even worse. at the start of s5 jon is super clear that he can’t Know anything about the fears directly, like, at all. but now he does.

and maybe he just got way stronger (altho having him do the fears’ statement like, the very next episode after he said the eye can’t see its own beginning? what?) but it didn’t feel like we’d been leading up to it. it felt sudden, and jarring, and out of step with how the whole fear entities situation had been talked about before.

...actually i think that’s. how i feel i general about the finale. not the character stuff, that was spectacular, but the whole big plan? it felt sudden and jarring. to me. maybe i just did not pick up on the hints, but like...

season one, we’re dropped jane prentiss EARLY. we know about her! and then she attacks martin, and then the worms bother the institute for ages, and michael shows up and is ominous about her, and then when she attacks the institute we’re like. expecting it.

(we maybe weren’t expecting the not-them, but we’d heard about the table and not-graham, so it happening to sasha, a minor character, is not such a surprise.)

season two, we know about the not-them. we can see this conflict building, we know jon’s paranoid and about what, we know not-sasha is gonna pull some shit. and then we have her revealed, and she does, and that also is the big attack jon has to deal with!

once again there is a startling reveal about elias (altho that was hinted at a little bit, before he killed leitner), but once again it is an attack that happens to a minor character. jon had his big confrontation that had been building, and this is secondary, and also sets up the next season.

season three, like, we know about the circus all along. like, all along. we also know about elias all along! so the only surprise in the finale was jon still being alive, but tbh that’s not so surprising, he’s the main character.

season 4, we know about peter lukas being a threat, we know jon must confront him to save martin. additionally, we know about all the attempted rituals. jon keeps trying to stop them, but we also have it hinted that they never work, although we don’t know why (we think it’s gertrude, and then we meet manuela, and learn that no, it’s not always gertrude...) we also have extinction brought up, and so while it’s a twist that extinction is not the big bad, we are so emotionally & mentally prepped for ‘end of the world’. elias? elias is a sinister presence hinting ominously at things, and he escapes prison and then leaves when jon goes into the lonely, so he is totes the catalyst.

season 5............ we build up elias. we build up jon. we even build up annabelle, a little bit, although not as much as i would have liked.

we... don’t really have much buildup to ‘the web is sentient and has an elaborate plan to spread to an infinite number of universes.’

like, it’s not hinted at. we know from ages back that hill top road is some kind of crack in reality, but it’s not like... a threat, to our characters or their world. the web having a big plan doesn’t feel particularly hinted at either, like oliver talks about how the end will win but the web isn’t brought up there, as an opponent to that.

like, i know the web’s manipulation is meant to be subtle, but i could’ve used. some more about it. there aren’t a lot of overtly web statements, and i think in the apocalypse there’s only ‘strung out’, which is a very different sort of message, but like... idk, a web domain or two about passing things along or something? might’ve been. helpful. like the spider in ‘strung out’ gives jon a rly pointed message about how it’s totally under his control, which is the total opposite of the web’s eventual plan.

like, it’s just... i am content, with the tragedy and the ultimate messages of the finale. it just felt like a very sudden shift, in a kind of weird way, that upset some previous worldbuilding and plotbuilding that had been established already, so i feel... kind of eh about that.

[cuttlefishkitch]

so after a long convo with @dykivist that started with me talking about Art Student Gerry I now present to you The Magnus Institute College of Art

The main archive crew all met because they have the same shitty advisor (Elias) Who suggested they do the library work study.

Starting with our boy Gerry though, he’s a painting major, but hangs out mostly with design majors, and likes to incorporate words into his paintings. He hangs around the library cause he has beef with a librarian? book arts alumni? weird man who lives in the sewers under the library? that no one else thinks exists (Jurgen Leitner)

Jon is the only one crazy enough to double major. He does Cartooning and Sound Design, and YES Sound Design is an actual major, our department may be lumped in with interactive arts, so our budget, studio space, and hiring resources are all split, but we ARE a REAL MAJOR and what are you talking about I’m not bitter!?

Jon’s animatics are the only ones with sound other than dialogue, and he’s never seen without his little foley mic.

Tim is an illustration major focusing in children’s book illustration because i think that’s cute.

Sasha WAS a graphic design major but quietly switched to animation because she saw this really cool animation of a table.

Martin does ceramics but is a pretty invested in his creative writing minor. He and Jon collaborate to make the coolest slam poetry performance the college has ever seen.

Everyone else is under the cut cause OH BOY

Basira is a graphic design major, and joins the library crew almost immediately after Sasha has to leave the work study because as an animation major she now has No Time, so Basira doesn’t meet Sasha for a while.

She DOES meet a completely different Sasha in the graphic design department, and brings her to lunch with everyone and they’re all SO CONFUSED.

They end up calling this girl Not!Sasha, and while she doesn’t really click with them she shows up occasionally to poke fun at them over the mix up.

Daisy was in the police academy, but dropped out after her furry patreon blew up and she had enough money to go to transfer in. Now she’s That Furry in Tim’s illustration class.

Once she joins the friend group Tim makes a fursona ironically.

Daisy promos it and he gets a lot of new followers but he’s super conflicted about it because they’re FURRIES, and he’s a CHILDREN’S BOOK ILLUSTRATOR!!

Melanie is a Reasonable Film Major who hates all other Film Majors is quoted as saying “FUCK THIS! I’m dropping out to do youtube!” at least twice a day.

One of her student films actually goes viral for a little bit and she uses it to dunk on all the other film majors.

Georgie is a photography major and helps everyone else document their work.

Peter by the way is everyone’s least favorite adjunct professor/board of trustees member. He’s only there to annoy his (currently ex) husband. He teaches exactly one class called The Lonely Artist and it SUCKS. Poor Martin has to take it because it’s the only way he can fill his Art History requirement that semester and he’s suffering.

Gertrude is an art history professor but has been on sabbatical for a suspiciously long time. The only one who’s ever had class with her is Gerry and he insists she’s a very good teacher but he almost died from the work load.

Annabelle Cane is that fibers major who either makes all her own clothes or buys handmade vintage.

John Amherst runs the cafeteria.

Jane Prentiss was a sculpture major who’s thesis revolved mostly around live worms, and they kept turning up EVERYWHERE!!!

Jude Perry is part of a class exchange program with the local business school and decided to take a couple classes here. Every time she something in it's singed around the edges for the aesthetic. She sets her final on fire during crit and isn’t allowed back.

Agnes is a photography major who collabed with her ONE TIME, and now she won’t stop begging to collab again.

Speaking of photography Manuela Domingez is a photo major who refuses to use ANYTHING BUT FILM so she’s always in the dark room. One time Georgie found her asleep in there and got Concerned.

#FreeJared’sBones

Adelard is everyone’s favorite adjunct professor.

Micheal and Helen are both campus cryptids, no one knows if they're professors or students or ????????? sometimes trippy ass art shows up on display with their names on it but no one can tell what discipline it all comes from. If you ask nicely Micheal will sell you LSD, and Helen will help you find off campus housing.

Helen is actually just an architecture student, and that’s just how architecture students are.

Oliver took a class called The Art of Death sophomore year and got real fucked up about it. Ever since then all of his pieces have involved corpses in some way.

now NIKOLA!!

Nikola uses WAY TOO MUCH GLITTER in her pieces which, considering she’s a Performance Art major, is very concerning.

For some reason Elias requires all of the people he advises to go to her thesis show.

They all get drunk for it but Tim gets black out drunk and ruins the whole thing, and for that he gets his work study revoked so his career in the library dies.

Nikola also writes fanfic and turns it in for assignment. Poor Jon gets stuck reading it out loud when they swap for crit. He has to wash his mouth out with soap after she makes him read “everypony” out loud in front of a class of 20.

[lunas-kingdom-of-shadows]

[KoS Incorrect quotes!

Because I’ve had these forever and though most of them where amazing XD

You can take these as cannon or not, I doubt all the things happened, but some definitely might have lol

Luna: When I was a kid, Lucas told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.

Solar: They are!

Luna: FOR REAL?

Solar: No! Why did you fall for it again?!

•––––––☆––––––• More under the cut!

Storm: Go big or go home!

Sapphire: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home.

Storm: I'm going big •––––––☆––––––•

Solar: I know we’re not exactly friends, but-

Luna: What do you want?

Solar: I've been stuck with Danion for 2 weeks and they've been drinking all the soy sauce.

Solar: Help.

•––––––☆––––––•

Lily: I don't follow the rules. I follow dogs on social media.

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: I should've left you on that street corner where you were standing.

Luna: But ya' didn't

•––––––☆––––––•

Willow: I don't know, it's not my cup of tea.

Riley: Well then who's is it?

Willow, staring at a cup of tea: I don't know!

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Sapphire: Hey.

Storm: Hi.

Willow: Hello.

Riley: Hey!

Luna: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Destiny: We were out of Doritos.

•––––––☆––––––•

Storm: You're violent.

Sapphire: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna: I am 39 cheetos tall.

Stella: Why... are you measuring your height in cheetos?

Luna: Because we're out of doritos.

•––––––☆––––––•

*at a zoo*

Solar: What are they in for?

Damion: Solar, this isn't prison.

Solar: So they can leave?

Damion: No, but-

Solar, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

•––––––☆––––––•

Spark: Your smile? It makes my day.

Luna: Your happiness? I live for that.

Solar: A room? Get one.

Lucas: Hotel? Trivago

•––––––☆––––––•

Riley: You really believe in Storm?

Sapphire: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna: Thanks for pulling the fire alarm, you saved me from giving an oral report about The Scarlet Web.

Spark: You were too bored to read the book?!

Luna: I was too uninterested to watch the movie.

•––––––☆––––––•

Stella: I can't imagine what Solar and Luna are planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

•––––––☆––––––•

Riley: That’s the key slice of truth we need to complete the entire truth pie.

Willow: Ooh, can we get some actual pie?

Riley: I like the way you think.

•––––––☆––––––•

Damion: Do you think I’m ugly?

Solar: It’s not about looks, Damion. What’s valuable is on the inside...

Damion: Sol...

Solar: For example, someone's heart.

Damion: Aw... Stop it-

Solar: It could be purchased for more than a million dollars, you know.

Damion: Seriously, stop.

•––––––☆––––––•

Soulstar: If I see a bug, I simply leave the room elegantly and require someone else do something about it.

Soulstar: If no one fulfills my wish, I simply never go back in there.

•––––––☆––––––•

Stella, watching Luna & Spark panic : What's going on?

Lucas: Luna is having a midlife gender crisis and Spark is just having a crisis.

•––––––☆––––––•

*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*

Storm: I will not let you down.

Willow: Sounds fun.

Solar: K.

Stella: No, I'm fucking not.

Lucas: Do I have to be?

Luna: Please god, I am so tired

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka.

Solar: *upends the bottle*

•––––––☆––––––•

Stella: What's the scariest horror movie you've ever watched?

Spark: IT.

Solar: Annabelle.

Lucas: Paranormal Activity.

Luna: High School Musical. All throughout high school I was scared that everyone was gonna randomly get up and start singing and dancing, and I would be the only one who doesn't know the words.

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna: honk.

Soulstar: WHAT.

Luna: HONK.

Soulstar: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: *texting* Hey can you pick me up I’m drunk.

Solar: Oh you don't have to anymore. I'm home now.

Stella: Yes, I'm aware of that after dropping you off at home.

•––––––☆––––––• Spark and Luna: *making loud, cat noises at each other*

Sapphire:

Stella, exasperatedly: We have a guest.

•––––––☆––––––•

Spark, texting Solar: Roses are red, Tony Hawk is a skater…

Solar’s phone, auto-replying: I’m driving right now–I’ll get back to you later.

*Later*

Solar, texting back: Fuck you.

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: You are an absolute fucking dork.

Daniel, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork!

Solar: *sighs* Yeah, you're my dork.

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna: Why is Spark crying?

Solar: They saw a leaf on the sidewalk and-

Spark: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY!

Luna: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

Spark: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH!

Luna: NO, NOT THAT!

•––––––☆––––––•

Damion: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!?

Solar, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what

•––––––☆––––––•

Luna: *Gasp*

Stell: wHAT??

Luna: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish?

Stella: *inhales*

Solar, in another room with Spark: Why can I hear screeching?

•––––––☆––––––•

Soulstar: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli.

Luna, eyes wide: I know what I saw.

•––––––☆––––––•

Stella: I'm not doing to well.

Lucas: What's wrong?

Stella: I have this headache that comes and goes.

*Luna enters the room*

Stella: There it is again.

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: I’m gonna die alone.

Spark: Sol, you’re not gonna die alone.

Solar: Damion, was my safety net, okay? They got married and now I have to get a snake.

Spark: Uh-huh. Why is that?

Solar: If I’m gonna be an old lonely person, I’m gonna need a thing, you know? A hook. Like that guy in the subway who eats his own face.

Solar: So I figured I’ll be “Crazy Man With A Snake”, you know? Crazy snake man.

Solar: Then I’ll get more snakes, call them my babies. Kids won’t walk past my place, they will run! RUN AWAY FROM CRAZY SNAKE MAN!

•––––––☆––––––•

Lucas: I thought you were going to give me a book recommendation or something.

Luna: *laughs* Book recommendation? I can’t read!

•––––––☆––––––•

Riley: The floor is lava!

Spark: *helps Luna onto the counter*

Solar: *kicks Damion off the sofa*

Stella: *lays on the floor*

Spark: ...Are you okay?

Stella: No.

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: Where are my fucking keys?

Spark: Sol, Lily is around, can you say it a little nicer?

Solar: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?!

•––––––☆––––––•

Solar: I should've left you on that street corner where you were standing.

Luna: But ya' didn't

•––––––☆––––––•

Stella: I CAN'T DO IT!

Solar, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Stella: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Solar: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Stella:

Stella: I appreciate it,

Stella: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Solar: Stella-

Stella: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Luna: Stella we gotta-

Stella: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Stella: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Stella, motioning to a bathroom that has been set on fire by Luna and Spark: NOT FUCKING THIS!

•––––––☆––––––•

Lucas: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out.

Stella: Fucking Luna and Spark were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

•––––––☆––––––•

I think I’ll stop here XD I have more but this is getting long, might do a part two though,

also new separators go brrr

... I need to go to bed. ]

[whimsicaldragonette]

ARC Review: A Winter's Earl (A Regency Christmas Romance) by Annabelle Greene

Preorder

Add to Goodreads

Publishing November 9, 2021

Synopsis:

Come to me. I need you. It’s a matter of life-and-death. Infamous poet Sherborne Clarke is a scholar, a lover—but not a father. When he finds a baby abandoned on the steps of his crumbling castle, he knows he must get her to London and an orphanage. It’s the perfect excuse to contact the one person he trusts…the man whose love he stills yearns for, and whose heart he broke years before. Richard Ashbrook was groomed from birth to become the Earl of Portland, until Sherborne betrayed him, exposing his sexuality to the papers and forcing him into exile. But as much as he hates Sherborne, Richard has never managed to break their link or let his confusing sentiments concerning him subside. When he receives a missive implying that Sherborne's life is at risk, he knows it is time to return home.   Richard undergoes the perilous journey from Sicily only to find the other man untouched. Furious, he agrees to transport the baby to London—whatever gets him out of Sherborne’s life once and for all. But when a snowstorm leaves them stranded, they’re forced to confront the past—and deal with the love between them that’s all too present.

My Review:

★★★★★

I did not expect to like this as much as I did. I was swept up into the story from the very beginning and it never let me go. I felt very strongly for Richard and Sherborne and was kept enthralled as their love story drama unfolded. My favorite part is the way they rekindled their old romance in a way that let them grow and move beyond the angry, jealous passion of their youth and into a warmer, steadier love, as well as the way each new event only deepened their connection. The writing was beautiful, too. The prose was easy to flow along with, with no awkward stumbling blocks, and the emotion was beautifully rendered. The sex scenes were necessary to the story and each furthered Richard and Sherborne's emotional connection. The did not bother me as the more gratuitous scenes do in most romance. The minor characters were endearing - though not as much as Richard and Sherborne, except perhaps for Parsley. I enjoyed reading about all of them and I thought the ending especially beautiful. The plot was admittedly rather thin and some events a bit contrived (and it was hard sometimes to figure out who was speaking during dialogue -- I can't believe I'm going to say it, but it could have used a few more dialogue tags), but overall it was a lovely Christmas story that I can definitely see myself reading again. I will definitely be seeking out more of Annabelle Greene's books. *Thanks to NetGalley and Harlequin - Carina Press for providing an e-arc for review.

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised thoughts on Trails of Cold Steel III:

...I’m gonna need like a week to process that

I guess I know why people hate George now!

Could really use a good old reset from KeA right now

This is the best game in the Cold Steel series so far. Easily

I... there’s no way they’re all really dead, right? This series has been completely toothless about killing anyone who isn’t a villain until now, no way they’re permanently killing someone who’s been here since practically day 1, no way. Show me a body

And even then I’ll doubt it with all these revivals happening all over the place 

‘He’s HIDING’ I sob as I apply clown make-up 

Ben Diskin did not need to go so hard on the voice acting at Millium’s death he did not need to do that to me

My god when Angie drove into the graveyard and my PS4 popped up a little notification telling me it was a blocked scene, the tension in me... and I never saw that coming, I’ll have to see if it was foreshadowed at all by replaying CS1 and 2 some time

I saw Lughman being a baddie a mile away (a mysterious professor turning out to be evil in a Trails game? UNPRECEDENTED!) but he’s Alisa’s dad!?

Neat writing trick actually, since they probably knew we’d guess the former, they blindside us with the latter

I can’t express how happy it made me that the Rufus battle was Machias Jusis Elliot. My dream team!

Estelle and Joshua got mentioned so much I figured they’d make a surprise appearance at the end and save the day

:(

So. Characters:

Rean: Rean is once again moderately more interesting than he was before, but still the least interesting person in the game. I guess he’s got some guilt that’s actually justified now, that’s cool? 

I ship him with Crow, not because the pairing really appeals to me that much, but because being shipped with Crow would totally piss Rean off and I find that extremely funny

His relationship with Altina is the best relationship he’s ever had with a female character and it is 100% because she’s the only girl he’s never ship teased with

(I don’t have an issue with the concept of ship tease itself, I have an issue with Rean-ship tease because 1. I still truly do not understand why so many girls like him so much and 2. None of it will ever canonically go anywhere)

(Seriously I’m so tempted to write a breakdown of why every other guy in Erebonia is more desirable than Rean)

Juna: I like Juna. I realised early on that she and Kurt remind me of Estelle and Joshua, without being carbon copies, and that’s good. I also think her relationship with Rean was really interesting - ‘I don’t know how to feel about you because you saved my life, but it also wouldn’t have needed saving if it weren’t for your country’s actions, which you’ve played a major role in - but now I’m being forced to confront that you’re a human being too’ is a really complicated situation for her. It’s a lot more interesting than ‘I don’t like you because you accidentally got a face full of chest’, Alisa

I also really liked using her, I ended up loading her with the Platinum Pecky Medal and defensive stuff, and she was a wall, she took an S-craft from Arianrhod in her stride! My buff girl!

She should’ve just been the new protagonist ngl

Kurt: Kurt had a lot to live up to, seeing as his brother is my favourite minor character. And oh does he succeed, Kurt is my favourite of New VII, he’s a good straight man, he’s great in battle, I like his arc, I like his friendship with Juna, I like Kurt

Altina: I was not sure about Altina just... being a student now. But damn if she didn’t have the best character arc in the game. I only did her final bonding event on a whim, but it’s the best one I saw. My girl Allie deserves the damn world

I really, truly believe those three have a bond as well, they’re very well written as a group. This was a problem I had with Old VII, the fact that so many of them just... didn’t have relationships with each other. How do, say, Fie and Machias feel about each other? I have no idea. But this group has a fantastic dynamic and it makes that ending so much more effective

It’s like I praised Crossbell for, really - having a small core group is much more manageable in terms of giving them all equal screen time and getting me to care about them

Musse: Uh, kind of one-note and annoying, honestly. I don’t hate her or anything, but like... she’s either Being Mysterious or Hitting On Her Teacher (I hate it I hate it so much). It’s just hard to care about someone who’s clearly so fake, I guess? I’m definitely interested in her, but like... I don’t really like her

Ash: Poor boy. I thought Ash was such an interesting character (and man do I love having someone around who does not like Rean, and never really changes his mind about it). Ash is very well done imo

Alisa: Alisa is good when the issue is her family drama, and is so goddamn boring when it comes to Rean. Nothing new there

Elliot: I love his little ponytail I love it he’s so cute I want to hug him so bad

Laura: Winner of the ‘best new outfit’ award (was never that fond of her war outfit, but this one is perfect). Still good, but not notably so. I feel so bad for Laura, she tries so hard to matter, but she’s by far the character you’d have the easiest time lifting out of the game

And while I love Elliot... same situation really. You could go back to the start and have one character named Elliaura who likes swords and music and has two big-shot dads, and you wouldn’t lose much

Machias: Took down Rufus, yeah, destroy your best friend (boyfriend)’s evil family! Winner of the ‘worst new outfit’ award, AGAIN. Also winner of ‘dorkiest S-craft’. I did his final bonding event first, and according to Playstation trophies it’s the least popular one! Stop sleeping on my boy Machias guys, I know he was annoying in the first game but I love him :(

Gaius: Special award to Gaius for finally being interesting! Boy’s a Gralsritter now, did not see that coming!

And of course it happened off screen. Because god forbid interesting stuff happen to Gaius when we’re actually around

Oh also goddamn, that is a beautiful man

Emma: Don’t really like the new outfit. It’s kind of remarkable that she’s so important but I keep forgetting she exists. Exposition witch who sometimes just doesn’t deliver the exposition I guess

Fie: Still my fav girl. Wish there had been more focus on her feelings about her dad coming back to life. Like that she’s a bracer

Jusis: Wasn’t sure how to feel about his newly close friendship with Millium because I was concerned that I was meant to ship it (by far my least favourite thing about this franchise is that that was not an unreasonable concern, as it wouldn’t even be the most inappropriate relationship in this game alone). Very, very glad it was confirmed sibling-y (not that it’s stopped them before). He didn’t really get to do anything else, sadly, but he’s good as always

I did the Purebread contest with him, and he made bread from coffee beans Machias gave him, the Ferdibert Fire Emblem energy- 

“What are you doing underneath this scarlet Pleroma Grass?”

Milliam: :(

Sara: Doesn’t get much to do because this cast is bloated but like, I still really like her :)

Towa: Someone needs to check on Towa all her friends are dead or evil the poor poor girl (or uh. I guess Crow isn’t... hmm.)

Angie :(

My kids Tita and Agate are back and completely overshadowed by people teasing this almost 30-year old man about being in love with a 17 year old that he’s only ever claimed to see as a sister, I swear to god

The orbal gear looks so goofy lol

Stop mentioning Schera as just being ‘totally here, just off screen, ha ha’ give her a model! Have her be here!

Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing Josette again, I just don’t get... why? Why is she here?

Tio is back! And so is Randy, as a major character! I’m very very happy, I love them both

Michael’s fine, I guess? He’s kind of bland but I guess that’s kind of the point and I like him just fine. He serves his purpose well

I’ve never really liked Claire all that much, but she’s fine in this one again I suppose. A bit disappointed by the Lechter reveals really, I had expected more, to be honest

Aurelia is a fun character and I enjoy her as the principal. Want to see her fight Cassius

Want to see Cassius 

I love my girl Annabelle, but she’s the only reason I didn’t get all the character profiles (how was I meant to know I could even go to the highway at that point hmmm Falcom!?)

They picked a good selection of returning Thors students. Even Dorothee isn’t as annoying as she used to be. Hilarious that she’s the only one who didn’t get a profile

Juna gave a great big speech about how awesome the SSS are and namedrops everyone EXCEPT WAZY! My FAVOURITE Crossbell character! So offensive!

Oh speaking of offensive I took Machias to the Mishy show and was told he and Rean did a Mishy dance but they didn’t show it, what the hell-

Playable Olivier! Olivier back story! I could write a goddamn essay on why Olivier is such a great character. Glaring at you Falcom

I miss Mueller :(

Ada Grant is wonderful and I want better things for her

Rufus is a damn great villain just because of how much sense his actions suddenly make when you know that one little detail of him not actually being Jusis’s brother

I hate Cedric but like, in a way where I’m having fun hating him. That little bitch

Literally what do you even actually want Osbourne

I still cannot stand Elise. Something I realised playing this game is that one of the things that stops the Estelle and Joshua relationship from being as weird as it could be is that they don’t look at all alike, it’s very clear they’re not related in the slightest. Elise and Rean look like they really could be siblings, and come to think, so do Lloyd and Cecile. Which is also teased, to a lesser extent. It would be so much less uncomfortable if they just swapped Elise and Alfin’s models ngl (though still not good)

inb4 the final plot twist of the whole series is that Estelle and Joshua actually were biological siblings all along

This game looks so much better than its predecessors. Having the models being a little rounder and softer looking makes it look much more like an updated version of the original style than the complete departure that was CS1 and 2. Every time there was a flashback, Rean would be like ‘back then...’ and I’d feel compelled to say out loud ‘when we were shiny, and looked bad!’

‘Evil ancient magic corrupts people into making them do bad things!’ is... honestly a bit of a cop out that I did not expect from this series 

I found Rean telling Patrick ‘leave room for Aidios when dancing with my sister’ extremely funny. Rean would totally be a Christian summer camp counsellor in the real world

I honestly would have enjoyed it a lot more if Alfin decided to cause a scandal and have her first dance with Elise, but we can’t have such luxuries I suppose

When you get that book on dystopias, very clever to put the author on the last page. Seeing the name Gideon gave me such a start

Racquel was easily my fav new location

Leeves > Trista no doubt, maybe I’m just biased because it looks a lot like the village I grew up in but it’s just such a nicer design

Also the branch campus > main campus purely for being smaller, making the filler segments between field trips more bearable 

I prefer the longer but fewer chapters set-up, I think

There’s so many sad faces in this write up :( 

Back when I played Sky SC, I said something about how one of the themes is ‘you are not defined by your trauma’. I now think it would be more accurate to say that the theme of all the games (but especially the Sky arc) is ‘don’t let your worst experiences define you’

Because there are characters who define themselves by their traumas and worst experiences - and those characters are all villains, or miserable, or both. Like, they don’t phrase it as such, but the requirement to be an Ouroboros enforcer is ‘have trauma and define yourself by it’

And both Joshua and Renne’s arcs are about learning not to do that

Equally, the idea that ‘it’s much easier to not to define yourself by your trauma when you have a good support system that wants the best for you’ is a big theme as well

I just think that’s a really interesting idea for a JRPG series to tackle, idk

I can’t believe I’m at the last game! This series has been my life for the past near-half a year, what do I do when I finish it?

...go back and play Sky FC, maybe?

[rockislandadultreads]

Gender-Bending Books: a list in celebration of PRIDE

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

Middlesex tells the breathtaking story of Calliope Stephanides, and three generations of the Greek-American Stephanides family, who travel from a tiny village overlooking Mount Olympus in Asia Minor to Prohibition-era Detroit, witnessing its glory days as the Motor City and the race riots of 1967 before moving out to the tree-lined streets of suburban Grosse Pointe, Michigan. To understand why Calliope is not like other girls, she has to uncover a guilty family secret, and the astonishing genetic history that turns Callie into Cal, one of the most audacious and wondrous narrators in contemporary fiction. Lyrical and thrilling, Middlesex is an exhilarating reinvention of the American epic.

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters

Nan King, an oyster girl, is captivated by the music hall phenomenon Kitty Butler, a male impersonator extraordinaire treading the boards in Canterbury. Through a friend at the box office, Nan manages to visit all her shows and finally meet her heroine. Soon after, she becomes Kitty's dresser and the two head for the bright lights of Leicester Square where they begin a glittering career as music-hall stars in an all-singing and dancing double act. At the same time, behind closed doors, they admit their attraction to each other and their affair begins.

Annabel by Kathleen Winter

In 1968, into the devastating, spare atmosphere of Labrador, Canada, a child is born: a baby who appears to be neither fully boy nor fully girl, but both at once. Only three people are privy to the secret—the baby’s parents, Jacinta and Treadway, and their trusted neighbor and midwife, Thomasina. Though Treadway makes the difficult decision to raise the child as a boy named Wayne, the women continue to quietly nurture the boy’s female side. And as Wayne grows into adulthood within the hypermasculine hunting society of his father, his shadow-self, a girl he thinks of as “Annabel,” is never entirely extinguished. When Wayne finally escapes the confines of his hometown and settles in St. John’s, the anonymity of the city grants him the freedom to confront his dual identity. His ultimate choice will once again call into question the integrity and allegiance of those he loves most.

The Passion by Jeanette Winterson

Jeanette Winterson’s novels have established her as one of the most important young writers in world literature. The Passion is perhaps her most highly acclaimed work, a modern classic that confirms her special claim on the novel. Set during the tumultuous years of the Napoleonic Wars, The Passion intertwines the destinies of two remarkable people: Henri, a simple French soldier, who follows Napoleon from glory to Russian ruin; and Villanelle, the red-haired, web-footed daughter of a Venetian boatman, whose husband has gambled away her heart. In Venice’s compound of carnival, chance, and darkness, the pair meet their singular destiny.

[wolftraps]

Out of curiosity, in Reverb verse... has anyone ever made the mistake of gunning for the 'Old Guard' (or at least.... any of the old archives gang) in misguided attempts at weakening them or establishing dominance against the institute? What kind of incidents has Shay stepped in on — or not had to, if they were minor enough?

There have been a fair few throughout the years. More often than not, the Web dissuades them, willingly or not. There are many who don’t like this whole “dual avatar” thing. They find it “unnatural”, and cooperation between entities actually drops outside the Institute for a while. Some especially don’t trust that it’s a joint operation between the Eye and the Web. Who knows how much they see, or what they might be planning.

Others look at their attempts at “balance” and their rules against killing and their general goodwill toward the world as is and think them weak. It grates that the major players of so many different entities refuse to act against them at best and actively support them at worst. 

The Lukases throw money and keep their distance. The Fairchilds seem to find the whole thing delightful. Rayner and the People’s Church metaphorically stick their fingers in their ears and sing “LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” any time the Institute is brought up. Karolina Górka establishes herself as a force to be reckoned with amongst the Buried without ever intending to, and the rumor is that anyone who says anything against the Institute around her is never seen or heard from again (which isn’t precisely true, but it’ll take a good 50 years for the least offensive of them to reach the surface). 

And while everyone’s always wary of the avatars of the End, a few have found themselves in conversation with them. Every single one of them that has been asked about the Institute seems to speak of it with a sort of resigned fondness. Which is just weird. 

Still, there are some. Aspects of the Stranger try a few times, but like 60% of the Institute are knowing followers of the Eye, now, so trying to attack the Institute itself is pretty much a death sentence. The avatars might be able to survive being Known, though severely weakened if they do, but the monsters can’t. Instead, they go after any of the Old Guard outside the Institute, but Martin and Jon always know. The webs between them all are thick. Shay’s help is never needed there

The Hunt has tried something similar, but that becomes Mother-Child bonding time.

The Dark, separate from the People’s Church, has tried a couple times. Devon Anders was after revenge more than anything, but others haven’t appreciated this whole push to see. One attack actually killed or blinded about a quarter of the staff on site, but between the Dark aligned of the Institute, the Web, and Jon, they were herded through Sasha’s doors into somewhere very, very bright. Those who survived are watched very closely by the Web, and any talk of trying again is met with a visit from Shay.

Only once does the Flesh try, and that attempt ends in a company barbecue.

 The End doesn’t care, and unlike any of the others, the Web never actually works against itself. It will cultivate multiple sides of a conflict, but only for its own amusement, and if the time ever comes where a side must be chosen, it’s always unanimous. Martin and Annabelle have their friendly rivalry and spies, but it’s basically a game.

The one who poses the most risk is actually the Eye. There are others like Jonah, and they may not know the secret behind the rituals, but they know the Archivist is integral, and that this Archivist is doing his damnedest to keep the world as it is. And Jon can’t Know them.