#Sage the best dog in the world and nothing bad ever happens to her

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Phanie and I talked about for their first anniversary Tom and Ron get Chris a puppy. So here’s that…

@aki-draws-things

They had used so many favors. Tom whipped out blackmail he had been keeping for months. But by god they got the next week off.

Tom swings by David’s house after work. Has to pick up the ‘package’ thank fuck for David keeping Chris at the station late today. Tom takes the box from Lucas with a laugh. Ron refused to come along for this.

Ron is at home cooking. Traditional food from both of them. Polish and some classic southern foods.

When Tom opens the box he can’t help the small gasp he gives. He had met the little darling earlier the week but good god is she adorable. God Chris is going to lose his mind.

-

“I’m homeee!” Tom and Ron grin at each other. They both know the greeting isn’t for them. It’s for the two cats. Chris comes into the kitchen holding the two of them. “Holy shit why are you two here?” Ron grins at him. Chris had obviously assumed that this morning was the only anniversary celebration.

Tom takes a cat from Chris. The other one practically throws itself at Ron. Tom leans down and kisses Chris slowly. “Figured we would surprise you. Got a full week off.”

Chris gasps. He throws his arms around Tom’s neck. “How? No don’t answer that. I don’t have a week off though?” Ron shakes his head, he loops his arms around Chris’s waist. “Yeah you do. David worked his magic.”

Chris spins around in their arms, both cats had been dropped back to the floor during the conversation. “We would’ve taken you somewhere but we got a gift that couldn’t travel.”

Chris blinks at Ron. “What the fuck.”

Tom laughs. He kisses Chris’s neck. “Don’t worry you’ll love it. But dinner first.”

Chris puts his hand blindly behind himself. One arm around Ron’s neck the other around Tom’s. “Are you sureee? I can’t even convince you two to have another sort of celebration?” Ron pinches Chris’s hip. “Later pretty boy.”

Chris makes a sound that would be described as indecent. Tom kisses his neck again and pulls him to the table.

They all end up feeding each other bits of food. It’s a good dinner. Relaxing in a way they don’t get super often.

-

Afterwards when they’re in the living room Chris runs to grab his gift for them. They in turn grab their gift.

Chris freezes when he sees the box. He passes them the bag. “Open yours first.”

Tom and Ron smile at each other. They pull the paper out to find photos.

Fuck.

Those are insane photos. Tom blushes. “Who the fuck took these?” Ron nods he keeps flipping through them. “Who got to see you like this.”

Chris can only laugh. “Lucas. He’s a magician with a camera. Don’t worry he’s sworn to never tell David.”

Ron and Tom both go silent, they can only stare at the photos. Both are grateful. They’ll have incredible photos to have on the ship when they’re away from Chris for so long.

They both slide over to the couch and kiss Chris. They get a little distracted before the box makes a thud sound.

Chris jumps. “What the fuck.” Tom smiles at him. “Open it baby.” Chris leans down and pulls the top off the box. He gasps. Tears come into his eyes.

He pulls the puppy out. It’s a little golden retriever. Chris has actual tears running down his face now. The puppy is licking them. Ron makes a small noise of worry. “You like it right.”

Chris can’t stop staring at her. He’s so happy. “I love it oh my god. You two got me a puppy.”

Tom nods and kisses him. “All yours. Now you see why we didn’t take you on a trip.” Chris shudders. He yanks Ron down into a kiss. “You two are fucking incredible I love you both.”

Almost like the puppy knows she’s being ignored she gives a small yip. “Oh yes baby you’re so right I love you too.”

Ron looks at Tom over Chris’s head. “She’s allowed to sleep in the bed.” Tom and Chris both gasp. “No way what? Did you hit your head?” Ron gently flicks Chris’s ear. “She was mostly Tommy’s idea think of the bed thing as my personal gift to you.”

Chris kisses the puppy’s head. “Does she have a name?” Tom shakes his own head. “Nope all yours to name.”

Chris stares at her for a second. “Sage? Or Bluebell. Bell for short? I dunno what do you two think. She’s our kid now.”

Ron shudders a bit at the kid remark. Knows they all want a kid can’t lie and say that’s most of the reason why he agreed to a puppy. “Sage. It’s cute. Easy to call.” Tom nods he pulls out a bag of dog things. He passes over a pink collar. “Figured we could get Sage a different one if you want but this’ll work for a while.”

Chris wipes the rest of the tears off his face. “I really love you two. Thank you for an incredible anniversary. Hell for an incredible year.”

Ron and Tom both lean down and kiss Chris’s head. Tom brushes a hand over Sage’s head. Ron gives it a small pat.

-

That night they have to fight for space on the bed. Who knew a small puppy could take up so much room. They end up with Chris in between with Sage curled on his chest. Tom and Ron are awake longer then Chris and Sage are. They kiss over them. “Thank you for an incredible year. For letting me join and loving me.”

Ron brushes the small tear that escaped Tom’s eye. “Don’t thank me. Of course I love you. Always have always will. Thanks for being incredibly patient with me.”

They both lay back down. They put their arms over Chris. They hold hands over him. Tom kisses Sage and then Chris’s head. Ron quickly follows.

Ron knows a puppy means torn shoes and so much for fur but hey. If it makes them this happy he’d get them three more puppies.

(He wouldn’t that would genuinely kill him. But the sentiment is there.)

[forever-rogue]

If you're looking for Bucky requests, may I perhaps request something to do with Dad!Bucky? Like maybe he's surprised on how much his kid (I always see him with a daughter but that's just me) grabs onto his metal hand when they're walking or just gravitates towards it more than his flesh hand and he's always throwing major heart eyes whenever the child does this. 🥺

A/N: Dad!Bucky? Please I’m so heckin’ soft right now - no one touch me 🥺

Pairing: n/a

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Daddy!" Bucky was pulled back into reality as he looked up from the ground. A small flock of pigeons had gathered around him as he fed them some seed. They were cooing and chirping happily at him and in some ways had become steadfast friends over the years. But when he looked up and found his daughter grinning and waving at him, his entire heart melted, "daddy! Come and catch me!"

Sofia displayed a gap-toothed grin,  her dark curls windswept and blue eyes wide and excited. She was his little clone in almost every single way. You'd told him that since the day she was born and, almost as if you had a sixth sense, you'd insisted that she would cling to him like glue. You'd been right. Very right.

He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her running around, attempting to catch some butterflies as Falcon, the beloved family dog, followed closely behind. You’d had him since before she was born and they were thick as thieves.  Quickly pulling out his phone, he made sure to snap a few photos of them to send to you before getting up and chasing after her. He was on solo-father duties today as you had a few things for work you had to attend to that day.

Of all the things in the world Bucky thought he would ever have, a family of his own was never one of them.

But as he ran after his daughter, making quick work of catching up to her little legs, and swooped her up in his arms, a wave of peace and calm washed over him. She squealed in delight as she tried to squirm out of his arms, Falcon barking happily at the two of them.

“I’ve got you, little monster,” he peppered gentle kisses over her face as she giggled and attempted to wrap her small arms around his neck, “so easily defeated, little one. One day you’ll be strong enough to fight me off.”

“I don’t want to, daddy,” she insisted as she snuggled against his chest, “I like when you hold me. Besides, my legs are getting tired.”

A lump welled up in his throat at her little declaration; in some ways he wished that Sofia would stay this young and carefree forever. But in others, he couldn’t wait for her to grow up and reach different milestones that he could help her grow through. He still struggled, here and there, with the idea that he was actually good and hoped in some ways that raising her would give him the chance to prove to the world he could do good. Perhaps it would prove it more to himself than anyone else, but that was beside the point. He just wanted to be a good father, just as he worked to be a good husband.

He already was - the best ever - you had consistently told him such. Nothing you’d ever done that had shown him otherwise. It was something he still found to be a miracle at times.

“That’s what happens when you’re a shrimp,” he laughed softly as he kissed the top of her head, “one day, you’ll be tall and running over me. But that’s a long time from now - want to get ice cream before we go home?”

“Yes,” she grinned and looked at him with wide, ocean blue eyes, “mommy said no ice cream though...she said I had too much when I went to Uncle Sam’s the other day.”

“Mommy isn’t here right now,” he put a finger up to his lips and whispered softly, “it’ll be our little secret, okay?”

“I thought secrets were bad, daddy!”

“Only when they hurt other people,” he slowly set her back down and smoothed out her wild curls, “we don’t keep important secrets to ourselves and we don’t do anything to hurt others, yes?”

“Yes!”

“Exactly - and us getting ice cream doesn’t hurt anyone,” he reminded her as the little girl nodded eagerly, “we’ll make sure to brush your teeth extra well and then we’ll bring some home for mommy too. She can’t be mad then, right?”

“She loves ice cream too,” Sofia insisted as Bucky laughed, “we can all get ice cream! Falcon too!”

“Maybe not Falcon,” Bucky into his jacket pocket and fished out Falcon’s leash before clipping it onto his collar, “he can’t eat the same food as us, baby. But we can stop and get him a special treat too at the pet store. We can do that first, get our ice cream, and walk home. Mommy should be back by then too.”

“Okay daddy,” as soon as he straightened back up, he held out his hand to her, expecting that she’d gravitate towards the warmth and gentleness his normal hand offered her. Instead, she reached for the black and gold vibranium of his left side and clung onto it without reservation. She held onto him as tightly as possible, giving him an expectant look with a happy smile.

In some ways, he shouldn’t have been surprised at all. She’d never, even as a baby or toddler, had shown any fear or hesitation when it came to his vibranium arm. When she was tiny, even smaller than she was now, she didn’t understand the difference. She just knew that daddy has a different arm, but she’s never questioned it or made any sort of situation out of it. Even when people would stare, whether they knew of his past or not, Sofia was never phased. In turn, it gave Bucky the confidence not to care either.

You’d started the process of slowly helping to get him comfortable with being who he was, not hiding from the world, and the small girl had aided as well. These days he was able to go out without fear or worry about how he looked. He wasn’t anyone or anything he was just...Bucky. Bucky the husband, Bucky the father, occasionally Bucky the sidekick to Capitan America. And it felt good. For once in his long life, he was just a normal man.

And frankly, that was all he had ever wanted. What a thought - the man that had been through hell and back, several times, and all he wanted was a quiet and peaceful life. It had been a long time coming, but now that he had it, he didn’t plan on ever letting it go.

“Daddy?” Sofia asked softly as she started walking and noticed he wasn’t coming, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promised softly. Bucky squeezed her hand gently before taking a step forward with her and Falcon quickly matching his stride, “Sofia?”

“Yes?”

“How come you never ask about my arm?” if he didn’t ask, curiosity would kill the cat. Typical Bucky Barnes, he knew you would say, asking a mere child for an explanation of something much more complex than anyone of her age would understand.

“Your arm?” her little brows knitted together as she looked up and gave him a confused look.

“You have to have noticed it’s different,” he shrugged as they walked out of the park, “it’s metal - vibranium - no one else has one like it.”

“That’s okay, daddy,” she stopped and quickly turned his hand over in hers, tracing over the palm gently, “it’s pretty. And it’s okay to be different! Mommy always says that and you do too. It doesn’t matter what anyone looks like, as long as they have good hearts. Right? If you’re kind and nice, nothing else matters!”

“Yes,” he felt himself getting choked up again as she started to race along the sidewalk, attempting to pull him with her. Sage wisdom from a five-year-old, “you’re absolutely right. I love you, little monster.”

“I know! I love you too, daddy,” she grinned, “now hurry up before they run out of all the good ice cream!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[novelconcepts]

Excuse you...😭 The first prompt being absolutely Older Jamie having a cat that bonds with her AND Dani... Sad hours in this house, damn

She never let them have pets. There isn't much Dani Clayton regrets--isn't much point, she's found, in the endless, boundless stretch of after--but sometimes, she does regret that much. Jamie always laughed it off, said she didn’t mind--What do I need pets for? Got more than enough to keep alive, thanks very much.--but Dani knew she’d never had animals growing up. Hadn’t stood still long enough for a cat, or a rabbit, or even fish. Maybe it’s true that you can’t miss what you never had, but she can’t help wondering if Jamie’s got some little puncture, deep down, that should have been filled with a big-hearted creature who would have put her first. 

And Dani, to her eternal chagrin, hadn’t been able to fill that. Hadn’t been able to allow herself that. The beast, she was sure, would someday rise, and it was bad enough to think of Jamie going without. Bad enough to imagine Jamie staring hollowly at the door, wishing for Dani’s key in the lock. What would a dog have done? What would an animal who had only ever wanted love and to be loved have thought, the day Dani inevitably left and could not return home again?

How she’d thought of it in life, anyway. Now, she’s aware of so much. Aware of time in a slipstream around her, of the immediacy of the past, the present, the future all bound up with gold-edged ribbon. She is Dani Clayton, eight years old and watching her father waste to nothing, and she is Dani Clayton, twenty-nine and watching Eddie laugh at their engagement party, and she is Dani Clayton, thirty-one and watching Jamie nervously place a moonflower on a counter. Forever, she is Dani Clayton--the lost little girl, the stubborn young woman, the beloved wife. 

And Jamie? Jamie does not yet understand forever. She isn’t yet a part of the slipstream. Jamie is silver-haired, twisting that ring: a gardener and a widow, a storyteller and a scarred heart. Jamie doesn’t get it yet. Dani wishes she could tell her. Wishes she could impart the wisdoms of after while Jamie can still make use of them. 

She can’t. She’s tried. Her hand on Jamie’s shoulder, night after night, she’s tried to will the knowledge into the love of her life. I’m here. I’m always right here. You have to keep living, Jamie, you have to keep going, because I will always be right here. 

For years, she’s worried it’ll never sink in. For years, which are moments, which are blinks, she watches Jamie stagger through the world. Jamie, making bargains with gods and ghosts. Jamie, unable to see her, unable to let her go. Jamie, desperate and grieving and miserable. It sets an ache in Dani’s chest she hadn’t thought she could feel anymore. All time is now. How is there still pain?

But watching Jamie--watching her run baths, button into Dani’s old blouses, prop that god-forsaken door open in dozens of hotels over the years--how could it not be painful? Watching Jamie hurt is the worst of the world. Watching Jamie in her recklessness, watching solid, grounded Jamie crack open one empty mirror at a time. How could it not dig at her?

You’ll understand, Dani thinks--and it is as much a wish as a certainty. Someday. Soon. Now. Always. You’ll understand. The gardener always learns. The gardener always listens. The gardener can’t not piece it together, given enough time. 

But, for Jamie, it’s slow. It’s linear. It’s one day at a time, one year after another. For Jamie, it’s another Christmas alone. Another of Dani’s birthdays celebrated in silence: a lit candle, a photo, a woman bent over her own knees as her shoulders shudder. For Jamie, time plods. Time bleeds. Time is a wound she can’t stitch shut.

And then: the first one follows her home.

It’s an accident, Dani knows--would know, even if Jamie hadn’t in recent years taken to muttering to herself in the solace of an empty room. Jamie hadn’t even realized it was happening until the scruffy little mongrel followed her off the street, into the building. It sits--curly black fur, enormous brown eyes--at her side as if waiting. As if the invitation is implicit. As if it’s already home.

“No,” Jamie says. Dani can’t help smiling; there’s something to Jamie saying no that way that has always sounded an awful lot like a wall coming down. And, sure enough, the minute the door is open, the dog saunters inside as though it has never belonged anywhere else.

A bit, Dani thinks, like Jamie after Dani had taken her hand that night. 

It’s an accident, but Jamie has never been much good at turfing out creatures in need of love once they’re inside. The dog stays. Jamie calls him Iowa--it seems to have been the first thing to slip out of her mouth, and the dog cocks his head and wags his nub of a tail, and that’s that. Jamie, for the first time in her life--fifty-seven years old, paying rent on her first flat in over a decade--has a pet. 

Dani thinks it’ll be good for her. A dog begs routine. A dog needs walks, and feeding at reasonable hours, and doors that are shut at night. That Iowa seems older--relaxed and certain and just a bit bull-headed--is even better. He doesn’t run ragged around the flat, knocking into tables, shattering flower pots. He simply trots along at Jamie’s side as though he’s always been there. 

It would be enough, Dani senses, if it were just the two of them. Jamie has always thrived in the caring for other living things. Jamie is happiest when given a task, a hands-on approach to the world. The dog, she may not have sought out--but the dog is hers, and she is his, and there is a kind of salvation in unexpected love. 

The next one is even more of an accident, if that’s possible. A huge bear of a beast, shaggy and stained and wet-eyed. Jamie finds it limping through the streets of London with mud caked on its belly and head hung low. No tags. No marker of any kind. Iowa nudges her around the knees, looking at the mountainous creature, and Jamie sighs. 

“No,” she tells him, but Dani--and Iowa--can tell it’s a lie even before the syllable is completely formed. Jamie is already reaching a cautious hand toward the trembling dog. It whimpers. It presses its nose to her outstretched fingers. Iowa’s tail wags. 

London is, when given a proper bath and brushing, quite beautiful. Her limp is temporary; her attachment to Iowa in particular, eternal. The first night, with the dog resting her chin on Jamie’s knee, stretched across a threadbare couch, Jamie says, “Found it on the street. Wanted to save it” in a tone that suggests she’s speaking from a dream. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes close. Dani has never wanted so badly to break her own rules.

Neither dog seems to notice her. She’s relieved, in a way; Jamie’s nightly ritual never wavers, save for reluctantly closing the door--as with so many features of Jamie’s world, the safety of others precludes her own--and if the dogs began barking at shadows, it’s likely Jamie would never sleep again. Anyway, these aren’t her pets. Jamie has saved them--or they’ve saved her--and that bond is one Dani can’t muster envy for. 

Two dogs and a home full of plants. It doesn’t bring the light back into Jamie’s eyes, not all the way, but she walks a bit taller these days. Fidgets a little less. Cries often enough, but now there are soft muzzles to press her face against when she does. It’s better, Dani can see. Nothing will ever be what it was, but better is sometimes the most you can ask for in life. 

The third dog is less an accident, more a surprise. A two-for-one deal, to a degree; Jamie has wandered into the local shelter, where she’s taken to volunteering on weekends, and come across a sharp-toothed, snappish shepherd no one else seems able to touch. He’s been through the ringer, the other volunteers say, sage and exhausted by similar experiences. Abuse, probably. Neglect, probably. Only three or four, but with enough mistrust baked into his bones for three lifetimes. 

“He doesn’t like men,” one weary-looking young man says. “Or people who move too fast. Or multiple people coming at him all at once.”

“Can relate,” Jamie says, her mouth quirking. Dani laughs. “What does he like?”

The volunteer points. There, in the back of the shepherd’s cage, is a lithe black shadow. It blinks lantern-gold eyes up at Jamie, tail twitching, and makes a rasping sound that might, in another animal, have been a proper meow. 

“Came in same-day. Can’t separate ‘em. Not sure how we’re going to get them adopted.”

Jamie rubs her jaw, left hand hesitating on the way down. She touches the tip of a finger to her ring and heaves a sigh. 

“Fuck.”

She calls the shepherd Paris, and though it takes time--several patient weeks, Jamie turning up at regular hours each day to coax the nervy animal into growing accustomed to her smell, her voice, her easy-slow method of moving--by the time the papers are signed, there’s no changing it. The flat is now overrun, dog hair clinging to every surface, water bowls standing sentry in the kitchen. The cat’s litterbox goes into the bathroom, Jamie frowning a little as she surveys the new landscape of her home. 

“You,” she tells the cat. “Best behavior. Anything goes crash in the night, it’s your hide.”

The cat preens, rubbing around her ankles. Jamie sighs.

“Christ, if she could see me now.”

Something tugs deep in Dani’s chest--pride, and sorrow, and love of the most fervent kind. The dogs--proud Iowa, sweet London, Paris keeping a careful distance from both--are draped around the living room. Jamie’s home is theirs. Jamie is their home. Dani knows so well what that feels like. They’re lucky creatures.

The dogs are sleepy, warm, happy. The cat--

The cat is looking at her.

Dani frowns. She’s imagining things. Must be. She’s been drifting around Jamie--traveling the world at her side, resting a hand over her shoulder each night--for years and years. Nothing has ever looked at her. Nothing has ever seen her. Not Jamie. Not the dogs. Nothing. 

But this cat. This cat, with its huge golden eyes, black ears twitching, is staring right at her. 

“Huh,” says Dani.

“Mrow,” says the cat.

“C’mon,” says Jamie, oblivious to it all. “Supper.”

Days go by before Jamie properly names the cat. She strokes her fingers gently over the creature’s back, tracing the length of spine and tail, and frowns each night. “Who,” she says quietly, “are you?”

The cat butts against her palm, rumbling deep in its chest. Jamie makes a soft pensive sound.

“Vermont?” She shakes her head. “Nah. You’re different, mm? Somethin’ else.”

The cat chirps, turning its head, gazing into the corner where Dani is leaning. Dani raises a hand, wiggling her fingers experimentally. The cat makes the same noise a second time, as if in greeting. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Eerie little beast. Never thought I was much for cats, y’know. But here you are.”

Never thought you were much for people, either, Dani thinks with amusement. Didn’t stop you drawing us all close. 

In the end, Jamie begins calling the cat Gremlin. A nickname, offered in warning, at first--any time she moved too near a plant, or experimentally sniffed at London’s paws while she slept, Jamie would quietly intone, “Oi. Gremlin. Back it up.” It is, in its own way, reminiscent of the way Poppins had clung to their first year--an accidental gift cherished by its recipient. 

Dani can tell the cat--rumbling her pleasure each time the name is used--agrees. Plants are left to their devices. The dogs seem strangely hard-wired to accept the cat as their queen. Jamie shakes her head. 

“So be it, suppose.”

It’s good, watching her build a routine around them. Dani hasn’t seen her stand this still since Vermont, but the dogs love the nearby park, and Gremlin sunbathes happily on the balcony, and Jamie seems, for the first time in years, to be fostering a simple sort of peace. The baths still fill, and her eyes are still too often far-away, but the door is shut. The dogs stretch out around the living room--which doubles, as all living spaces have for a decade, as Jamie’s bedroom--as if warding off intruders. The cat sets up shop on the back of the couch, peering down with regal bearing as Jamie slowly dozes off. And, when Dani inevitably presses a hand toward Jamie’s shoulder the first night--

“Hey,” she says, very quietly. “What’s this?”

Gremlin makes a raspy sort of sound, nudging toward her. She does not make contact, exactly; Dani hasn’t quite figured out touch, in all this time. She hasn’t had much cause. Touching Jamie is a dream, an ache she has carried since her death that reminds her forcefully of before, at Bly, when she hadn’t thought herself worthy or capable. Touching Jamie is the one part of all of this that still feels linear--I could touch her in life, and I can touch her when she gets here, but in between...in between...

In between, Dani can reach toward her. Can brush the space around her shoulder. Can be here, with her, in every way except directly, because some things are still unfair. Like Jamie feeling alone, even with Dani right here. Like Dani being able to always-someday-soon-now except for where it matters most.

She is in the kitchen at Bly, and she is in their bedroom in Vermont, and she is 1976, 1988, 1999, and she is--

Almost petting this cat. Almost. Her brows come sharply together, her heart thudding. 

“How?” she asks Gremlin, who seems not to mind. The cat presses in a bit harder, as if to say, Keep trying. Dani sees no reason not to obey. 

Each night, the animals spread around Jamie in a protective circle: Paris at the door, London beside the couch, Iowa nestled between Jamie’s knees. Each night, Gremlin sets up on the back of the couch, watching Jamie’s breath even out, and turns those enormous eyes on Dani.

And, little by little...

She can’t pick the cat up, or close her hands gently around her face. She can’t make the kind of contact she would as a living woman--matter pressing against matter, mass imposing upon mass. But her fingers are unequivocally brushing thick black fur. She can feel the cat’s breath on her skin. This is true, and real, and solid--and the cat, looking entirely too proud of herself, can plainly feel her in return.

Dani Clayton has been dead for over a decade, and Dani Clayton has been here all the same ever since, but for the first time, Dani Clayton is touching. Dani Clayton is feeling, not simply in the ether of memory, but now. 

She holds a breath as Gremlin rubs against her fingers. She’s still holding it when, slowly, carefully, she reaches down to the couch. 

Her fingers brush silver. Jamie’s brow knits, her lips parting. She’s always looked like this in sleep--as though some part of her just isn’t willing to shut down all the way. She’s always looked as though some part of her needs to be on guard. 

Now, with Dani’s fingers threading through her hair, that tight, armored expression gives a little bit. Just a little. 

In the morning, Dani wonders if Jamie’s eyes will flicker open and she will, finally, see her. There’s a breathless kind of terror to the idea--that she’s gone this long keeping Jamie safe from diving permanently into her own grief, only for a cat to undo all of that work. But, when the sun rises and Jamie rises with it, she gives no sign at all. No sign that she can see Dani, standing beside the couch, though Gremlin is staring right at her. No sign that anything has changed.

Except--except her hand, lingering at the crown of her head. Her fingers, sifting almost absently through her hair, tracing the same path Dani had been unable to pull away from. Her brow furrows. Her head shakes. 

“Breakfast?” she asks the animals in various stages of waking around her. Gremlin stretches, back leg popped high, and hops down. Dani doesn’t think she’s imagining the cat’s easy swagger as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

It isn’t the life she’d imagined for Jamie, laying awake and watching her sleep. Not the life she’d wanted for Jamie, hoping as hard as she could that the beast would remain always at bay. She’d never looked at Jamie and expected dogs to follow her home, hurt and lonely and in need of someone to show them the world can be kind. She hadn’t expected a cat with a swishing tail and a regal demeanor, standing sentinel. Jamie’s life has never quite veered in this direction before.

But: watching her now, as she slips a bit of apple to each dog, strokes the cat, leans her hip against the counter as she waits for the water to boil, Dani has to admit it suits her. Jamie has always been at her best giving love, even against her own better judgement. 

In time, Dani’s sense of soon-someday-now-always will broaden to encompass Jamie, as well. The years will press on. There will come a time where the brush of Dani’s hand across her sleeping cheek--the phantom press of Dani soothing Jamie out of a particularly bad nightmare--will evolve into the intertwining of finally standing on the same plane again. It is the natural order of things. Organic. Dani, standing outside of time, is patient. 

And Jamie: is slowly building herself a home again. Jamie is waking to take dogs out, and brushing down Gremlin’s ink-black fur, and looking more present in the world than she’s been in a decade. Jamie, staring into the mirror each night with Paris pressed resolutely against her legs, Iowa hovering in the doorway, almost smiles. 

“Someday,” she murmurs, “I am going to have some stories for you.”

Dani smiles. She knows, of course--outside of time, it’s hard not to know--but she can’t wait to hear them, all the same. Stories always land a little differently, coming out of Jamie’s mouth. 

Soon, she promises silently. Someday. Always. Now. 

In the meantime, Jamie reaches for a bundle of leashes, giving Gremlin a brief scratch between the ears. She pauses at the door, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes drifting over Dani without notice. At her side, heading the pack, Iowa gives a small bark to confirm his readiness. 

“Right,” says Jamie softly. “Back soon.”

It is the first time in too long Dani has been sure she will be okay.

[jordanlahey]

“A Blast from the Past...” (2/?)

Pairing: Poly!lost boys x Reader

Summary: The boys feast and chase downs local witch coven and it didn’t work out in their favour. Home was home but at the same time it wasn’t.

Warnings: language, innuendos

Word count: 1761

A/N: sorry it too so long I’m just catching up on fics now. Also can we appreciate this gif of Paul and Dwayne? 😍

"So you're telling me you are really from 1987 and some witch got mad at you and you came here is a cloud of red?" I repeated what david had told me, trying to make sense of it all, it didn't quite seem real but then again they are vampires and I have powers so what even is real anymore? I stay quiet trying to think of something anything.

"Don't forget we ate the witches whole coven." Paul chimed in, he seemed to be so proud about it but he just seems like a happy-go-lucky guy.

"What if I could help you find a way to get back? I'm not sure if I really count myself a witch per se but I can try find something?" I suggest, it's not the best idea but it's worth a shot. The boys all looked at each other seeming like they were having a silent conversation between the four of them.

"What's in it for you? Why do you want to help?" David lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke out as he leaned back into his chair. If was a fair question, what is in it for me? Nothing I'm just trying to help but was there really a need for me to answer?

"I can't think of anything at the top of my head. I mean while you are all sleeping during the day I can do something to keep unwanted visitors away so that another incident like earlier doesn't happen again?" Another silence in the room, I could sense that they were uncomfortable talking about anything in front of me considering we had just met, I would be uncomfortable spilling anything if I couldn't trust someone. I pull out my phone to heck the time it was nearly 5am and the sky was starting to brighten.

"Hey what's this thing?" My phone was snatched out of my hands by Paul as he eyed my phone, Shaking it, tapping it and putting it up to his mouth trying to talk to it like a walkie talkie.

"Hey give that back!" I jump to my feet and try to get it from him but he holds it above me so that I can't reach it. "Paul give it back!" He threw my phone to Marko as he did the same, I ran towards him then he flew up into the sky "that's not fair! Marko please!" I could tell David and Dwayne were amused buy this as I run between the two blonds.

It went on for a good few minutes however, Paul had landed in front of the entrance to the cave and the sun was just away to illuminate the cave. "Paul! Look out!" I run towards him again this time knocking him out the way of the sun rays, the rest of the boys hid where the rays wouldn't effect them but they were still in the same area as you and Paul. In other circumstances I wouldn't have been awkward at all but since I'm lying on top of the blond vampire it was more that awkward. Paul looked at me and wiggles his eyebrows at me causing me to roll my eyes at him and go try and get off of him.

"You're welcome for saving your ass being turned into a pile of ash." I huffed "now go, dont worry I'll keep anyone out of here in the mean time." With that they all crawled into a dark hole which I assumed their own sleeping space. If I'm being honest I hadn't even slept yet, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I napped on the sofa? I would go to the small bed that I mentioned earlier but they tensed when I spoke about it.

Before I head off to sleep a cast a small little protection barrier to keep people out if they were to come near it would just look like a massive rock on the outside. I cuddle up on the sofa and slowly drift off to sleep.

*****

I slowly awoke from my meant to be nap and I check my phone for the time I knew the boys weren't going to be awake since the sun was still up. It's 1:30pm I  some had time to kill, I did plan on going home and getting something to eat maybe charge my phone for a little while before coming back and trying to think of a solution to sending the vamps back to their time. If I'm heading out I'll leave the little barrier up cause if I break my word they'll have my head for sure.

I headed to my home and greet my grandmother but she seems to be with a client at the moment so I leave her be and head up to my room to grab my computer and some spell books. I know it's cliche. My grandmother and I run a smoll café shop near the boardwalk, as well as a place to eat it's also a place for visitors or open minded people to come get a reading etc and we even sell small things like crystals, sage, candles etc all the good witchy stuff.

"Y/n, you were out late I didn't hear you come in." My grandmother startled me, I sigh in relief.

"I stayed at a friends house sorry about that, hey you may be able to help me." My grandmother looked at me and smiled. "How does time travel work? Are there any spells for it?" I chew the bottom of my lip, hoping she won't as me about why I'm asking her this to be honest she's smart and she knows all kinds of magic. However, she looked at me sympathetically.

"Oh honey, I know what this is about." Now I'm the one confused. "You want to time travel to stop what happened to your parents I know, but you can't change the past and if you do then you'll have to sacrifice something in return and suffer the consequences." She was way off I know this already i can't change the past but I need to send the boys back to their time, thats the same as time travel right?

"What about spells to send people back in time. Like to their time?" This stuff is confusing as heck.

"Why would you want to know something like that, honey?"

"I...it's for a book I'm writing about spells, I'm just curious." I am a terrible liar and she can see right through me. "Grandma, you are the smartest witch I know please tell me." She looked at me and I could see the cogs turning in her head if I wanted to I could tap into her mind as see what she knows.

"That isn't going to work sweetie, a witch always has a block on her mind so that no other beings can read them and I'm terribly sorry but there is no spell for that and there never has been." With that she leaves my room back down to the shop where she probably has customers waiting. I sigh in annoying. Bullshit. If there was no spell then how did the vamps get here there is always a counterspell. Nothing is ever permanent.

I finish grabbing all the books and my laptop then head downstairs to go back to the cave, it's 3:15pm the sun doesn't go down till 7ish this gave you roughly 4 hours to find a solution or do something else but you'd rather head back to the cave and keep watch there's no doubt gonna be some people poking around there and you have the best job in the world. Being a guard dog for a bunch of vampires.

Back at the cave you, sat down on 'David's' chair and proceeded to look through all the books you had about magic and spells, there had to be something here. Your nose was too buried in the books you failed to notice how quick time went by and still no sign of a counter-spell. Your book was snatched from your hands, startling you and you tried to calm your breathing as Paul flipped through the book and turning it every which way to understand the text. Which was stupid it was in perfect English probably words he isn't familiar with god bless.

"How long have you been reading the Mumbo jumbo? It's basically snoozefest." He tossed the book on the ground near the others and went flicking the through them all.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand and I've been looking through them for 3 hours maybe?" You answered, picking up the book you were trying to read.

"Really that eager to get rid of us?" Your eyes shot you the platinum blonde, he smirked at you as he walked towards you causing you to walk back into the wall.

"N-no." You swallowed thickly. "Last time I checked you wanted to go back home." You tried to rid your voice of any insecurity, probably failing miserably. David leaned closer to you.

"Last time I told you that's my seat." He stepped away from you and sat in HIS seat.

"It's not like you were using it." You huffed and muttered under your breath, this made him smirk more. "Paul could you stop tossing my books around please."

"I'm bored." Paul whined then latched himself onto you then Marko joined in.

"Let's have some fun, ayy Paul?" You looked between the two blondes as the face you a smirk and you broke out of their grips.

"Woah woahh woahh! And Don't look at me like that." You warned as you backed away from the group of vampires.

"Like what?" Marko pouted, you mentally cursed yourself and huffed.

"I'm not food! I probably don't taste good anyway so no biting I mean it." You warn again mostly at the two blondes who were sharing knowing glances.

"How would we know if you taste bad if we don't try it." You backed away from the boys then ran behind dwayne who was just watching, using him as a shield from the 2 blondes. "Like he's gonna help."

"Stay back! I have a Dwayne and I'm not afraid to use him!" This caused the boys to erupt with laughter.

"You're adorable." Marko laughed, you pouted and rolled your eyes.

"Come on you four, I bet you are all hungry anyway let's find you something to eat." You nod time the exit of the cave.

[heartofether]

Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

[aion-rsa]

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

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“All I have in this world is my balls and my word, and I don’t break them for no one,” Tony Montana declares in the 1983 gangster classic, Scarface. Yet Al Pacino’s antihero breaks both in his quest for money, power, and women. And just as he is on the brink of winning the trifecta, he is blown away like so much dust up a nose.

Did he lose because the Cuban mobster didn’t heed the advice of his first crime boss? Or is it because he just couldn’t stand to see his sister and his best friend wearing his-and-her pajamas? In truth, Montana’s fall can probably be traced back to when he learned to speak English by “watching guys like Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney.”

Directed by Brian De Palma, and written by Oliver Stone, Scarface is a remake of Howard Hawks’ vastly influential 1932 mob movie, so Montana’s explosive descent was preordained. Tony Montana continued Pacino’s run of criminal icons, which included Sonny in Dog Day Afternoon and the ultimate crime family head, Michael Corleone in The Godfather films. The actor supplanted Paul Muni’s Tony Carmonte as the recognizably scarred face of the title role. Pacino would go on to play Carlito in Carlito’s Way and Lefty in Donnie Brasco, but while each hoodlum brings a new facet to his rogues gallery, none of his gangsters ever achieve their ultimate desires. They almost all reach dizzying heights, and everyone of them sees the dream slip through their fingers. Still, Montana experiences perhaps the greatest fall of all.

The original 1932 film took place during Prohibition when crime was a viable means of survival. De Palma’s adaptation happens in the Reagan era, a time when lucky opportunists could get their lips around the spigots of cash before it got a chance to trickle down. Tony’s economic theory is much more succinct: “You know what capitalism is? Getting fucked.”

Scarface is a rags-to-riches-to-self-destructive fireball story, and nothing succeeds like excess. Montana’s first crime boss in America, Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia), has weathered the climate change from President Carter to the Gipper, and warns Tony to never “underestimate the other guy’s greed.”

In the original Howard Hughes production, Tony was an immigrant from Italy. In the Cold War era film, Montana is a refugee from Cuba. Their shared first mistake is to believe in the American Dream.

The World Is Yours

These words are flashed in both films and hit each of the two criminal aspirants as hard as the “give me your tired, poor, and hungry” promises carved under the Statue of Liberty. Scarface opens shortly after the Mariel boatlift, the 1980 exodus which followed Cuba’s economic crash. Montana seeks asylum, telling immigration officers he is a political prisoner who doesn’t agree with his country’s politics and owns nothing under communism. He says even American prison is better than his life on the Caribbean island. The officers note his criminal past, the telltale tattoo on his arm, and the scar on his face, which despite their insults was obviously not caused by oral sex.

In exchange for a Green Card, Montana and his friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) assassinate Gen. Emilio Rebenga, who tortured the brother of the crime boss Lopez. Tony settles in sunny Miami. And when he gets out of the kitchen and into the heat of crime, he hits the ground running. “The World Is Yours,” after all. All you have to do is take it, and Montana has both hands out.

Frank warns his protégé, “The guys who last in this business are the guys who fly straight – lowkey, quiet; and the guys who want it all – chicas, champagne, flash – they don’t last.” But Montana is a meteor, bound to burn up in the atmosphere. He gets caught on the orbit of Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar), agreeing to supply cocaine from Bolivia independent of the other drug lords. Within a few years, Montana is doing so well, the feds target him for tax evasion.

Tony’s Betrayal of Frank Lopez

Montana’s betrayal of Frank Lopez is crucial to his downfall. Frank is the father figure who initially took a chance on Tony. He let him rise through the ranks, even as he tried to bite off more than he could chew. Frank’s biggest mistake is not making sure his underlings follow his sage advice. He also ignores one of his own commandments. Lopez underestimates Montana’s greed. He trusts Tony to accompany his trusted second-gun Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) to Bolivia to meet with Sosa, and continues to let Tony operate after the druglord hangs Suarez from a helicopter.

The deal Montana makes behind Frank’s back is a major step toward the fall. The vow Tony takes never to betray Sosa ultimately leads to the last splash. Montana breaks his word to both of these men, and they bust his balls as a result. When Tony returns to Miami, Frank is suspicious over Omar’s death and his returning soldier’s independence. As Montana begins to build his own cocaine empire, Frank orders a professional hit.

For gangsters, the only good cop is a bad cop, and it is advisable to grease the wheels which move crime. Mel Bernstein (Harris Yulin) demands his take early in the film at the Babylon Club, which has the perfect cocktail napkins for bribery notes. Bernstein was willing to overlook the murders of Rebenga, “Hector the Toad,” and “that bloodbath at the Sun Ray Hotel.” Tony should have taken him at his word when the cop said he could clean up Tony’s Lopez mess.

Before Tony eliminates Frank, he is hungry. The money and drugs are not a distraction. After he begins to accumulate power, he lets his public profile rise and indulges in conspicuous consumption. Montana keeps a chained-up tiger in front of his compound just to let everyone know how powerful he is. There are real life precedents for this. Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar imported hippos for his private zoo. Brooklyn mobster “Crazy” Joe Gallo kept a pet lion named Cleo in the basement of his headquarters. The scenario was also probably inspired by Miami’s most notorious drug lord, Mario Tabraue, whose predilection for wild cats was featured in the Netflix documentary Tiger King. But the most conspicuous acquisition Montana leveraged cut Frank the deepest.

It’s always a mistake to go after the boss’ girl. James Cagney’s Tommy Powers knew this in The Public Enemy (1931). James Woods’ Maximillian “Max” Bercovicz skirts this in Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984). Montana sets out to steal Frank’s trophy wife, Elvira Hancock (Michelle Pfeiffer), from the moment he lays eyes on her, though he waits for the height of his reign to claim her. He does it as much to emasculate his former boss as he does it out of desire. It’s a betrayal equal to having Manny whack Frank while he pleads for his life.

The new couple is married by 1983, but with a marriage always on the rock.

Don’t Get High on Your Own Supply

Montana’s downfall is aided, abetted, but most of all mirrored in his descent into addiction. He probably took his first sniff from Elvira’s stash, but even as Montana bemoans, “I got a junkie for a wife,” he doesn’t get wind of his own problem. “Another Quaalude, and she’ll be mine again,” he reasons as the trophy wife climbs off the pedestal and up on a shelf.

Montana is in deep drug denial when Elvira leaves him after he openly complains she can’t have children because she is polluted with the yaya he’s been peddling. He should at least entertain the notion when she openly wonders if he would even be alive to raise their child.

In American Gangster, Denzel Washington’s Frank Lucas knows enough not to dip his nose into the supply. And while Pacino’s slide into the junkie aspects of his character is physically more subtle than Ray Liotta’s bug-eyed Henry Hill in Goodfellas, the results are just as devastating. When Montana was crushing the competition and bagging the Sandman, he had discipline. His mind gets muddled as his drug use spirals out of control. He makes rash decisions, dips into schizoid delusions, and succumbs to white powder paranoia. He can’t see his way through the haze to find alternatives. He walks right into the undercover cop’s money laundering bust.

The drugs dull his instincts. If Tony wasn’t high at the security command center, he would have seen Sosa’s soldiers encroaching his compound over the cameras. He had 10 bodyguards on the property, he could have positioned them defensively. The only thing his ultimate hit man is hiding behind is a pair of killer shades. He never should have been able to sneak behind Montana’s back. Tony also wouldn’t have gotten rid of his most trusted weapon.

Over and Underestimating Little Friends

Tony Montana’s right-hand man would have been the best, first defense against the Sosa attack. What Tony does to Manny Ribera is his worst action. The two are virtually brothers. Their bond goes beyond being partners in crime, it tightened in the “Freedomtown” concentration camp, and solidified in the Miami chainsaw massacre. It is because Manny is Tony’s most trusted soldier that he will never be good enough for Tony’s sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Tony’s saving grace is he believes he is doing all this to ensure a better life for his sister. Gina is supposed to represent the innocence he sacrificed, but she is also an unattainable sin.Tony’s mother doesn’t try to separate her children merely because her daughter might be swallowed in the criminal life; she is curbing what she sees as Tony’s unnatural urges. 

Read more

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Even if Tony doesn’t see Manny as a rival for his sister’s affections, he still sees him through the eyes of a fellow criminal, and a womanizing one at that. Tony is just like his mother, who rejects him. Tony brands his friend, and ultimately seals his fate with it.

The problem is Ribera wasn’t made to be a gangster. He is a loyal and efficient consigliere and soldier for Tony’s crew, but he would have been happier slapping his name on knockoff designer jeans. Besides the bubbling incestuous tension exacerbated by the coke haze, Tony doesn’t want to see his best friend happier than him, and denies Gina a real chance at the happiness he wants for her.

It’s the one thing Tony can’t buy for her. Gina and Manny fully expect Tony to be thrilled by their marriage. They were going to surprise him with the news. Tony’s incestuous protectiveness speeds his downfall. He murders Manny as a punishment. Gina is shot by Sosa’s men. Montana loses the two most important people in his life, and his inability to control his lusts destroy them all.

“Say Goodnight to the Bad Guy”

The biggest contributory factor in Tony’s downfall is his humanity. In The Godfather, Sonny Corleone advises his brother Michael not to take things too personally in business. When Lopez gives Montana the mission of delivering a bundle of cocaine to Columbian dealers, the rising mobster takes things very personally. The deal goes bad when Montana’s friend Angel Fernandez is murdered with a chainsaw in a scene so aurally graphic (watch it again, there’s no violence shown, only heard), it almost got the film an X rating.

It was allowed in the film in the name of education, Stone pointed to a DEA report which detailed the exact scenario. Tony teaches the Colombians a lesson in humanity. Not content with leaving with the cash and the coke, he kills every single gang member who had anything to do with Angel’s death.

Tony also lets his conscience be his guide when he’s working the GPI on a hit. Faced with serious jail time for his tax evasion arrest, he makes a deal with Sosa, who is also under fire. Montana agrees to fly to New York and assassinate a journalist before he can give a speech on Sosa’s organization. A bomb has been planted in the journalist’s car, and Tony is in charge of tailing until the perfect detonation point. But when Tony arrives on the scene to assassinate the journalist, he notices the man’s wife and children are with him. Montana not only breaks his word, the promise to protect his powerful partner, but he murders Sosa’s right hand man, Alberto, rather than kill the children playing in the back seat.

“I Always Tell The Truth. Even When I Lie.”

Tony Montana may have been the ballsiest and most charismatic of his machismo mob, but he wasn’t the brightest. He acknowledges his intellectual shortcomings, “I come from the gutter,” he admits. “I know that. I got no education, but that’s okay. I know the street.” But he doesn’t read signs. He can’t tell a freeway from a dead end. Frank Lopez may be a blowhard, but his words of wisdom could have been carved in the cement. 

All the concrete Tony brags about has gone to his head, making his skull thicker than Pacino’s accent. Montana is brash and unbending, narcissistically adherent to only his own advice, and his own worst counsel. His anger blinds him, the battery is running low on his foresight, and he’s so flashy his enemies can see him coming from miles away. And he can’t see them when they’re standing close enough to breathe on the back of his neck. 

Final Massacre

Of course the most obvious reason Tony ends up the way does is because he fights off an army by himself. He’s got quite an arsenal, and the coke probably makes it seem like a good idea at the time, but the decision to stay and fight is vastly miscalculated. Even if Tony had survived the last assassination attempt, Sosa’s men would always be hunting for him. It would have been a short hunt. Tony Montana would have died of a heart attack from all that coke he snorted.

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[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour + #Review: IN EVERY GENERATION by Kendare Blake (w/ #giveaway)!

Welcome to my stop on the Rockstar Book Tours blog tour for In Every Generation by Kendare Blake! I’ve got all the details, my review, and a giveaway below, so let’s go!

About the Book

title: In Every Generation author: Kendare Blake publisher: Disney-Hyperion release date: 4 January 2022

A new Slayer for a new generation... Frankie Rosenberg is passionate about the environment, a sophomore at New Sunnydale High School, and the daughter of the most powerful witch in Sunnydale history. Her mom, Willow, is slowly teaching her magic on the condition that she use it to better the world. But Frankie’s happily quiet life is upended when new girl Hailey shows up with news that the annual Slayer convention has been the target of an attack, and all the Slayers—including Buffy, Faith, and Hailey’s older sister Vi—might be dead. That means it’s time for this generation’s Slayer to be born. But being the first ever Slayer-Witch means learning how to wield a stake while trying to control her budding powers. With the help of Hailey, a werewolf named Jake, and a hot but nerdy sage demon, Frankie must become the Slayer, prevent the Hellmouth from opening again, and find out what happened to her Aunt Buffy, before she’s next. Get ready for a whole new story within the world of Buffy! The first in an all-new series by New York Times best-selling author Kendare Blake continues the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer featuring the next generation of Scoobies and Slayers who must defeat a powerful new evil.

Add to Goodreads: In Every Generation Purchase the Book: Amazon | Kindle | Audible | B&N | iBooks | Kobo | TBD | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Kendare Blake is the New York Times bestselling author of several novels and short stories. Her work is sort of dark, always violent, and features passages describing food from when she writes while hungry. She was born in July in Seoul, South Korea, but doesn’t speak a lick of Korean, as she was packed off at a very early age to her adoptive parents in the United States. That might be just an excuse, though, as she is pretty bad at learning foreign languages. She lives and writes in Gig Harbor, Washington, with her husband, their cat son Tyrion Cattister, red Doberman dog son Obi-Dog Kenobi, rottie mix dog daughter Agent Scully, and naked Sphynx cat son Armpit McGee.

Connect with Kendare: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

My 3.5-Star Review

I am that perhaps rare person who has never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- which often shocks folks my age, since I am firmly in Gen X and graduated college the year it came out. I think at that time I just wasn’t watching too much TV (except The X-Files, which we never missed). Now, ask me about mid-to-late 90s *music*, and I’m your gal! But yeah, I never got into Buffy. Now, I *did* see the original BTVS movie, but I was like 18 or 19 when we watched that in college, so...I don’t remember a ton from that anyway!

So why, you might ask, did I want to read and review In Every Generation? Well, first, it’s Kendare Blake! And second, I was interested to see if the book would resonate with someone who’d never seen the show. I know enough to know who the major players were -- mostly from watching the actors on later shows/movies and friends saying “Hey, it’s Willow!” (How I Met Your Mother and American Pie) or “Ooh, it’s Angel!” (Bones - though I didn’t last long with that show) -- but that’s about it. However, it turns out everything you really need to know to enjoy this new generation’s exploits is contained within this book. I have no doubt that a true Buffy fan may have background knowledge that would add to the richness of their reading experience, or that they may get some inside baseball stuff that I missed, but overall I’d say you can absolutely read this book even if you know nothing of the original Buffyverse. 

Ms. Blake did a perfect job, in my opinion, of explaining things from the past with just enough information to understand yet without getting bogged down in everything that happened over the course of 7 seasons of the show. This is really about introducing a new generation within the Buffyverse, while also featuring original characters to help them learn the ropes. I assume this is just the first of many books to come, whether written by Ms. Blake or by other YA authors. I kind of love the idea that everything old is new again, and that the kids of the original crew are taking over! (And, let’s be honest, it’s really just pretty brilliant marketing.) Anyway, I never felt lost while reading, and basically I just had a blast the whole time I was reading. This is one of those books that are a bit like candy for the brain, if that makes sense -- not gonna change my life, just a whole ton of fun. I especially enjoyed the snark, sarcasm, and humor, which I seem to remember friends who watched it telling me is what the show was like, too. I look forward to following along on the no-doubt-forthcoming next adventure of the new generation of New Sunnydale -- and in the meantime, maybe we'll finally break out the 7-season DVD set we inherited from my father-in-law when he passed (yes, he was cooler than me when it came to Buffy!)!

Rating: 3.5 stakes! (aka stars)

**Disclosure: I received a finished copy of this book from the publisher for purposes of this blog tour. This review is voluntary on my part and reflects my honest rating and review of the book.

About the Giveaway

Three (3) lucky winners will each receive a finished copy of In Every Generation by Kendare Blake! This one is US only and ends 4 February 2022. Enter via the Rafflecopter below, and good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Tour

This tour is happening the whole month of January! Here is the schedule for this week of the tour so you can follow along. 

Week Four:

1/16/2022 - @thebookishfoxwitch - Review 1/17/2022 - My Fictional Oasis - Review 1/18/2022 - Eli to the nth - Review 1/19/2022 - Book-Keeping - Review     **you are here! 1/20/2022 - The Book Review Crew - Review 1/21/2022 - Lexijava - Review 1/22/2022 - Always Me - Review

[bookish-fan-things]

The Captive Kingdom Launch Party HIGHLIGHTS

Jen has a dog that won't play fetch and a cat that hallucinates

The Kings English Bookstore is home to many authors in Utah and it has been hit hard by Covid-19. She asks for us to support them or your local indie bookstore!!!

November 14, there is going to be an author extravaganza to support TKE Bookstore

Shortly after the False Prince came out, she was still a very new author, she got a tweet from R.L. Stine, author of Goosebumps saying how much he loved TFP. She was so excited and she wanted to thank him personally but didn't know his name, and he had called her Jennifer so she didn't want to say Mr. Stine.So she ended up just saying, thanks!

Book 5 is due to her editor Monday (October 5, 2020) and she said she would be finishing this (the launch) then getting right back to it!

She showed her open project folders (there are a LOT)

Working on a World War 1 story and she showed history books she is reading such as History of the World War, A World Undone, and Weird War One.

One of her new works is about a kid with no memory, a magic sharpie, and a dice game called Boggle that sometimes talks to him and he sees a message in the dice: “they know ur here go”

Q&A!!!

Disney, book to movie adaptation possibilities? She'd be fine with it if they asked. She wants it to be made right. She wants someone who comes to at it with a fan’s perspective.

Paramount Pictures had optioned the rights to the False Prince, what happened? When you have a contract, every six months they have to decide whether to extend, cancel, or make the movie. As her six months was coming up, they fired their CEO, so everything evaporated.

How does it affect you emotionally when one of your characters goes through something traumatic or extremely challenging? She has a background in theatre and she comes to writing from a theatrical perspective. It plays out in her head like it's on stage so she becomes every character. She goes through everything with her characters, she feels it, she dreads it, she feels awful, but she's learned that “Most of us are in this stasis of being where we are just comfortable being exactly who we are and when something hard happens to us, even if we hate it, it forces us to grow. The hard thing creates heroes. So my characters start out believing they are just ordinary people, but when I do the hard things, my characters become very heroic characters. I do hard things to them because I love watching them grow.” I had to include this quote because it was so great

Favorite background character who you think gets overlooked a lot? Kerwyn, he is one of the very few stable things in the lives of the main characters, he is just good, strong, and loyal. Amarinda, she’s ok with being overlooked but she is so strong and intelligent.

Characters based on yourself? Not really, she doesn't think she is interesting enough to write about, but Sage, like her, is left handed, climbs, and has her sense of humor. She relates closely to the main character from the Scourge, Ani, and sees a lot of herself in her, but didn't base Ani on herself, they just have a lot in common.

Jen discussed how she plots out her books and how many drafts she goes through: she's got to know the twist so she can layout the hints. She shows an example of a chart of how much each character and what the reader knows. She rewrites a lot and feels it come together. First rewrite is fixing major plot issues. Second, logic. Dialogue. Description. Word choice. Could be 10-15 drafts before her editor sees it, who sees things Jen missed.

Have your characters ever taken you by surprise (with twists)? The ending of Mark of the Thief book one, she didn't expect, so she had to make some changes. Usually on top of it, and has something called the Rule of Five. Has a general idea, and makes herself come up with five possible ways the idea could play out. 1, usually pretty predictable. 5, usually really weird. 2, 3, and 4 she really gets creative. “Limitations are the mother of creativity.”

How she gets her character names: baby name books and websites (Imogen and Tobias). Symbolic, Sage (wise, a way for him to stick it to his dad and say he has wisdom), Connor (con man), Jaron (teenage boy she knew who was just a great person and outstanding kid, and if we had royalty in our country he would be a prince). Put sounds together, places, Amarinda, Mott, Roden, Kerwyn. (She also gave an example for writers to use: UTAH, UTAR, TUTAR, TOTAR, TOTARA, city of Totara!!)

She explained how she does her fantasy world building and it is mainly based on what she will need in the plot (ie Carthya is landlocked, mountains to the north, waterways that would be needed, it is resource wealthy making it desirable, etc)

Culture and religion in world building: how many gods or none? saints and devils! causing good and bad things in your life. Sage feels like he is constantly being harassed by the devils. It became a social thing in the world.

Would she want to live there [in Carthya]? Sometimes, but not in the last book that she is editing now!! *wink*

Where's fink's rat? Fink’s rat is on the castle grounds. She said this. It's canon. Fink’s. Rat. Is. In. The. Castle. (See @thedevilsofcarthya for full transcript of Jen discussing this)

TCK trailer: created by her family, particularly her son, Chase, and the voiceover was her son in law. Chase wanted to do something different and take a risk.

Your career as an author? When she started writing she knew nothing and nobody just had a manuscript that was ‘awful’ and will be buried with her. (I personally would read ANYTHING she wrote). She submitted her second one to “every agent with a pulse” and everyone said no. She wrote a new one, they said no. Fourth manuscript, she felt ready to break in, Apprentice to a Madman, she thought it was the best thing ever, submitted it and got a rejection scribble, not a letter, worked on it and kept getting rejected. One publisher had rep for taking everybody so she sent in hers. A couple months later, on her birthday, she got a call from a friend that they got an acceptance letter from the same publisher as she had submitted hers, got her own… rejected…She thought a lot about it and decided to erase everything she thought she knew about publishing and once she had a new idea, that manuscript got her agent and first publisher. That letter on her birthday was the last rejection letter she received. “Remember you can start from nowhere and find success.”

When asked for descriptions of the characters so an artist can draw them, she said, they look like how you envision them, there is no ‘right’. (Shows fanart from the competition that is on her blog!)

TCK art print was created by her niece, Ireland. It is her concept of the characters.

Writing during covid and quarantine? She's a strong believer that when God closes a door, he opens a window. She misses the opportunities to be in schools and bookshops. Just discovered a new WW2 true story she is researching. Various stories at different stages. Very excited for stories she has created because of Covid. “We will get through this, we will, and we're going to be stronger at the end because remember, when we go through hard things we get stronger."

[wontlastimokwiththat]

Witches Mates- Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of Witches Mates....

Warnings: Slight language, 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

After making the ring for Luke that would help him control his shifting, I went back to the house. The dogs had decided to explore the city so it was just me and Snow. When we got there, Snow jumped off my shoulder, telling me she wanted to stay outside. I walked in the front door and could hear the arguing.

"What do you have against her? She's been nothing but kind and understanding since we told her," Ashton said.

"She's a human, Ashton. She has no place in our world or our lives," Luke told him.

"She's our mate! Me, you, Michael, and Calum, we share her! She belongs with us, human or not!" Ashton yelled as I saw Calum walk down the stairs with my grimoire in his hands. I was thankful he couldn't see me where I was standing. Calum walked into the living room and I lost sight of him.

"She's not," Calum stated.

"What?" Luke asked. I moved a bit so I could see Calum as he held up my grimoire.

"I found it in her room. It's the real thing, guys," Calum told them.

"Why didn't she tell us?" Michael quizzed. I sighed and spoke, walking into the room.

"Maybe because if a witch has four mates, nothing good ever comes of it," I suggested, holding out my hand and willing the book into it. "This is off limits."

"I've never seen any of those spells," Calum stated.

"They're mine," I told him. "I've been creating spells since I was eleven."

"That's not possible," Ashton said.

"It is when you're a Firelight," I heard a voice say. I turned to see my mom walking in from the kitchen with Snow on her heels. "Mystia's gifted, always has been."

"Hi, Mom," I smiled.

"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted, hugging me tightly.

"How was Paris?" I asked.

"Boring compared to everything that's happened here. I saw Lejend and Shyla in the city, they told me everything," she told me. Lejend and Shyla A.K.A Damien and Annette.

"Uh oh," Snow said.

"Oh, hush. It's not like you weren't going to," I hissed down at her.

"Um, you're arguing with a cat," Michael stated.

"No, I'm arguing with my smart ass familiar," I told him as Mom took the grimoire from my hands.

"This is beautiful. Where'd it come from?" she asked.

"N-" Snow cut me off.

"Jonathan. He left it in her room," Snow told her.

"Another word from you and I'm sending you to London with Liam, " I said.

"Why can't we hear her?" Calum asked.

"I'm not sure she won't be rude," I told him, glaring at Snow. "Do you swear not to be rude?" I asked her. Snow raised her left paw. "Nice try, smart ass. Other paw." She squinted her eyes as she raised her right paw. "Okay. I'm trusting you." She said nothing as she trotted over to Luke, jumped in his lap, and laid down.

"Why is it touching me?" Luke asked, holding his hands up. My mom looked away from the book and at Snow sitting in Luke's lap.

"Oh, holy shit," Mom mumbled. "She doesn't even let me pet her."

"He's the warmest," Snow said without lifting her head.

"Oh, my God. It actually talks," Michael said. "I thought J was crazy."

"Joker and Harleen talk too," I told him. "And she's twenty-one, not seven."

"It's rude to tell a lady's age," Snow told me.

"You're not a lady," Joker said, walking in with Harleen at his side and Damien and Annette behind them.

"Mutt," Snow mumbled.

"That's offensive," Luke said, glaring at Snow.

"She was talking to Joker," I told him.

"Wait, do they know?" Annette asked me.

"Calum found my grimoire," I sighed. "Now, Snow has made Luke her bed and Michael no longer thinks I'm crazy because Snow actually talks."

"Well, okay," Damien nodded.

"You always give the best descriptions of situations," Harleen said to me and I knew by the look on the boys face that they heard her.

"Thank you, Harleen," I smiled, petting her head. "Why did Damien and Annette get nice familiars?"

"You're familiar reflects you. Both you and Snow are sarcastic, smart ass, assholes," Damien told me. I glared at him.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Snow growled, jumping to her feet.

"You're three pounds of fur, good luck with that," Joker said.

"Enough," I said, knowing things would get heated if they weren't brought to an end quickly. Snow laid back down in Luke's lap and Joker lowered his head.

"Oh, can I see it?" Annette asked my mom, looking at the grimoire. Mom nodded and handed it to her. Annette flipped through it, stopping on a certain page. "I remember when you made this spell. It was when you broke your hand and couldn't write. We were, like, twelve."

"The enchanted pen?" I asked. She nodded.

"I use that one on a daily," Damien said, looking over Annette's shoulder as she started flipping the pages.

"Oh, Luke, I have you something," I said before walking over to Ashton and sitting in his lap. He was sitting in the recliner beside the couch. I pulled the simple black band from my pocket and handed it to Luke. He took it and looked over it.

"What is this for?" he asked.

"Ashton told me about your struggle with controlling your wolf side. The ring prevents the wearer from shifting. As long as you wear it, you won't turn," I told him. "You can wear it as a ring or put it on a chain, it doesn't matter."

"How does it work?"

"It's a spell from one of my grandmother's grimoires," I said as he slid the ring onto his right ring finger.

"Is that why you went to the shop?" Ashton asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Yeah," I nodded, leaning back against his chest. "I didn't have everything I needed here. Which reminds me, I need to restock."

"What do you need?" Damien asked.

"Um, sage, mint, and jasmine," I told her. Mom, Damien, and Annette raised their eyebrows and Snow lifted her head when I mentioned jasmine. "Not for those reasons."

"Sure," Annette nodded.

"What?" Michael asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "Mom, are you going to the compound?"

"Yeah, I have to get some manzanilla before I leave for London," she said.

"Why?" Damien asked.

"I'm helping to break a curse," she told him.

"No one's used curses in years," Annette mumbled.

"What?" Calum asked. "Two months ago-" Mom cut him off.

"It's an old family that was cursed many years ago that needs to be broken," Mom said. I raised my eyebrows at Calum, who was looking skeptically at my mom. "Anyways, I should be going. It was nice meeting all of you. Mystia-"

"I know, I know. The shop, the coven, I got it," I nodded. She frowned slightly before nodding and walking out.

"J, that was rude," Damien said.

"Something tells me J knows something we don't," Annette muttered.

"J, is there?" Damien asked.

"Come with me," I told them, standing up. "Give us a minute." The boys nodded and Damien, Annette, and I walked up to the study. I closed the door behind us and turned to look at them. The room was spelled so as soon as the door closed it was sound proof.

"Mystia, what's going on?" Annette quizzed.

"Look, I learned something about the Witches Council today and it seriously set off bad vibes," I explained.

"What did you learn?" Damien asked.

"The wolves in the wolf packs that are aligned with the Witches Council are forced to trigger their werewolf curse when they're thirteen or they're killed," I told them.

"What are you talking about?" Annette asked. "Those wolves voluntarily turn."

"No, Ashton told me earlier-" Damien cut me off.

"So, we just believe everything the vampire says?" he asked.

"That's not what she's saying. She's saying we need to figure it out," Annette told him.

"Exactly. Annette, take Michael and Calum to talk to the voodoo witch on Bourbon Street. Damien, take Luke and go talk to the wolf pack on Main."

"And you?" Damien asked.

"I'm gonna see if Ashton can tell me anything else," I told them.

"Mhm hm," Annette smirked.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

with your heart, my soul is bound

for @hearteyesforbuck <3

part of the vermont series

read on ao3

When they told Maddie they had decided to get married in a month, Eddie was pretty sure she was going to pick both of them up and throw them out the window.

“You’re telling me,” she said with an eerie calm that made the hair on the back of Eddie’s arms stand up, “that I only have 31 days to plan a wedding from scratch in a town I barely know, all because you guys are too impatient to wait at least a year like normal people?” 

“It’s actually more like 27 days—” Eddie squawked as Buck elbowed him in the ribs. He turned back to his sister, doing his best to replicate the puppy dog eyes and pout that Chris always used to try and stay up past his bedtime. 

“Look, Mads…it’s just too far away.” Buck said, threading his arm through Eddie’s, squeezing his bicep. “We could go to the courthouse and get it over with, but we want to do it right. We want to do it now.” Maddie just looked at them, eyes skeptical and contemplative. “I mean, if you don’t think you’re up for it, we can always hire a wedding planner…”

“No, no way. I can do it. I’m doing it.” 

Buck grinned, turning to Eddie and shooting him a wink. Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, planting a kiss on Buck’s shoulder. 

“You’re the best Mads, seriously. We owe you big.”

“I am the best, and you absolutely do, and I will absolutely be holding this over your head until the end of time.” She sat up straighter, picking up her laptop from the nearby coffee table and firing it up.

“First things first, what poor sucker am I going to have to yell at to get a venue booked on such short notice….”

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s not sure if there’s a higher power at work, but if there is, they really wanted this wedding to happen. Maybe they had taken pity on them, saw both of them work and fight so hard for their own lives that when they finally found each other, found the grace and joy in each other that they hadn’t been able to give themselves, the universe said alright, you guys deserve a break. We’ll go easier on you now.

When they couldn’t find a space no matter how loud Maddie yelled, Karen had an opening at the inn in their biggest room, the perfect size for all their guests. When their first caterer fell through, Bobby stepped up immediately, offering food and desserts and a cake free of charge as a wedding gift. When none of the rental places had a dance floor big enough for what they wanted, Buck insisted on building one from scratch, and had just enough time to finish it. 

When Eddie’s parents weren’t going to make it, some excuse about airline prices and not enough time to prepare, Sophia volunteered herself to walk Eddie down the aisle before he could even be too hurt about it. 

A month later (27 days, Eddie, that’s not a month, those four days matter), he’s standing in awe in the middle of the room where he’s going to marry the love of his life in about 20 minutes. Buck always talked about how he was sure his sister had a little bit of magic in her, but she must have summoned a whole lot more for this because she’s worked a miracle. Forest green carpet covers the center aisle, leading to a hand carved archway Chim surprised them with at the rehearsal the night before. The arch is covered in roses and chrysanthemums in burgundy and wrapped with vines of ivy. Fairy lights hang all across the ceiling, making Eddie feel like he’s in a completely different galaxy, starlight following him wherever he goes. He feels his eyes water as he takes it all in, because even in his wildest fantasies, he never imagined everything coming together this perfectly.

“Don’t cry now, you haven’t even seen Buck yet.” Maddie’s walking up the aisle, clipboard in hand, a vision in her silver dress. It might just be the lights, but she looks a little misty too.

“Maddie, I really don’t know how we can ever thank you for all of this,” Eddie says as he looks around again. She stops in front of him, places a hand on his shoulder, silent until he looks at her dead on. She’s got that familiar sparkle in her eyes that must be a Buckley trait.

“You already have. You love my brother like he deserves to be loved, with your entire heart and soul. I can never thank you for that, but maybe we can call it even now.” She pulls him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek before letting go. “Alright, back to your room, the guests will be getting here any minute.”

He gives her a mock salute as he leaves, jogging back to the room down the hall where he and his sisters have set up camp. When he left, the kids were loud as always, fighting Sophia as she tried to get them dressed. She won, thankfully, and they’re quiet now, watching Chris play a game on his Switch. Sophia is in one of the lounge chairs, head back, eyes closed, a beer held loosely in her hands.

Eddie almost feels bad disturbing her peace when he flicks her forehead.

“You better not be drunk before my wedding,” he says as he sits in the chair next to her.

She cracks an eye open, giving him a deeply unimpressed look. “Please, one beer isn’t gonna do me in, I’m not mom.” Eddie’s stomach goes a little funny at the mention of their mother, hands unconsciously clenching into fists. Sophia sets her beer down and reaches over, rubbing his hands in hers until they relax. “You know you would have been ten times more stressed if they were here. Dad would have already found 15 things wrong with the inn, and Mom would be fighting with Maddie about the decorations.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs. “You’re right, but still, it’s so…”

“Shitty? That they refused to come to their only son’s wedding? Yeah, it is.”

“Buck’s parents aren’t coming either, they didn’t even respond to the invite. This just feels like something they all should be able to give up their pride for, you know? For family’s sake.”

“But they aren’t your family, Eddie, not really. Your family is here today, everyone who loves the both of you and wants to celebrate your love. Those are the people that matter.”

Eddie nods, squeezing Sophia’s hands. “It’s really annoying how you’re right about everything.”

She nods sagely. “It’s the cross I bear as the oldest sibling.”

They settle into comfortable silence, hands still clasped, the drone of arriving guests floating in from the main room. Despite the short notice, they’re expecting almost 100 people across family, friends, co-workers, and Army buddies. As the voices continue, Eddie’s leg starts bouncing, and he can’t stop playing with his cufflinks. 

“Nervous?” Sophia asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m just— I really can’t wait to marry him.”

Sophia squeezes his hand this time, her smile soft. “I’m so happy for you, Eddie. Not just that you found Buck, either, but for everything you’ve done since you sold your book. I only ever wanted you to have the good life you deserved, and I’m so glad you have that here.”

“You’re the one who started it all,” Eddie says. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a snoop.”

“That’s true,” she says, laughing. “But you did all the real work. You invested in yourself and you made it happen. I just lit the match under your ass, you built the bonfire.”

Eddie’s throat feels too tight to speak, so he kisses the back of her hand instead. There’s a knock at the door before Maddie comes in, clipboard replaced with a bouquet.

“Everyone’s seated, it’s showtime.”

Sophia claps as she stands up, herding the kids, straightening ties and flattening flyways as she sends them off with Maddie. Eddie offers her his arm as she grabs her own bouquet and meets him with a blinding smile.

“Alright, Bromundo, let’s get you hitched!”

Eddie’s too excited to even fight the nickname, matching his sister’s smile as they walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

The music begins and the guests stand, facing the back entrance of the hall. The twins come down the aisle first, Alexa tossing fistfuls of rose petals in front of them every few steps. Chris goes next, beaming at everyone as he goes, getting a high five from Adriana and a kiss from Abuela before taking his place at the altar. 

Eddie offers Sophia his arm, and they nod to each other as they head out. When he steps into the hall again, he’s hit with the same wonder he felt the first time, even more so seeing everyone filling seats, full of joy and tears and love for him. For them. His smile is the most genuine it’s ever been, and he doesn’t even care that his cheeks already hurt. The butterflies in his stomach fly faster the closer he gets to the altar, the anticipation making his skin buzz in a wonderful way. They stop in front of the archway, and Sophia pulls him into an iron gripped hug, her arms so tight he’s worried she might leave bruises.

“You deserve this, Eddie. Every bit of it,” she whispers as she pulls away, taking her seat next to Adriana. They each blow him a kiss as he settles at the altar, Chris flashing a thumbs up from his side. Eddie looks towards the back of the aisle and feels his breath stop completely, the rest of the world melting to nothing around him. He’s glad they decided to let him walk down first because he’s not sure he’d be able to take one step with his knees feeling this weak.

Buck looks nothing less than ethereal, like the gods sent him straight down from the skies so the world could finally see what real, unfiltered beauty looks like. His burgundy suit hugs every glorious inch of him, makes his birthmark into even more of the angel’s kiss Eddie knows it is. His hair is styled but soft enough that the curls are still loose, glowing under the lights like a halo. It’s not long before Eddie’s vision blurs with tears, the happiest tears he’s ever felt, because despite the perfect packaging he’s in today, Eddie knows the man underneath, knows his passion and his mind and his gentleness, and that is the man he can’t wait to spend forever with. 

He makes his way down the aisle with Maddie, his smile growing the closer he gets to Eddie. He kisses Maddie’s cheek as she drops his arm, and then he’s there, right in front of him, looking even more beautiful up close. He’s not a dream, not a trick of the light, not a cruel hallucination Eddie’s brain has cooked up. He’s real and looking at Eddie like he’s the only person in the world worth looking at.

“Hi,” Buck whispers as he takes Eddie’s hands in his calloused ones, threading their fingers together.

“Hi,” Eddie responds wetly, feeling more grounded just being in Buck’s presence than he has all day. 

He doesn’t hear much past “dearly beloved”, too focused on committing every detail of Buck — the feel of his hands, the lights reflecting in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks, his smile, everything — to memory. They’re both broken from their haze as the officiant clears his throat, looking at them expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Buck asks.

“I said, I believe the grooms have written their own vows?” They nod as the audience laughs behind them. “Eddie, whenever you’re ready.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, his knees somehow going weaker. It had been easy writing his vows — the hardest part was keeping them short, since he could easily fill up volume after volume with how he feels about Buck. But he wanted them to be special, wanted to look at his almost husband the entire time he spoke so he could see in his eyes how true his words were. So he left the paper in his pocket and memorized his words instead, went over and over them with Chris until he had them down perfectly. He was worried he’d lose everything as soon as he looked at Buck, but if anything, it cemented the words in his mind even more, branding them across his heart, completely making Buck a part of his very being.

“Evan,” he starts, sees Buck’s smile wobble, feels his hands grasp tighter. “A long time ago, I accepted that I wasn’t meant for love. That there was no one who would see my scars and love me because of them, because of the man they made me into, not in spite of them. And I was happy, for the most part. Happy to focus all my energy on Chris and raising him, making sure he knew he was loved and that he mattered. It was easy to ignore, to forget wanting to be found like that.”

“But then I moved to Vermont, and a tree fell into my son’s room. You showed up to fix it, and everything changed.” He reaches a hand up to Buck’s cheek, wiping away the tears tracing paths down his face. “You fixed everything in our house, but you didn’t try and fix me. You saw the cracks and scuffs and pieces hanging by threads, and you still thought I was beautiful. You’ve witnessed the best and ugliest sides of me, and you’ve never made me feel the need to compensate for not being perfect. You see me, all of me. And for the rest of my life, I will do my best to make sure you know I see you too. To make sure you know, always, that Chris and I love you to the ends of the earth. That even if your own cracks get deeper and your scuffs get worse, I will always see you for the amazing man that you’ve become. Thank you for loving me, and for letting me love you. Thank you for not fixing me. Thank you for finding me.”

Buck sneaks a look at the officiant before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. There’s laughs again, in between sniffles and rustling tissues. He sees Buck take his own breath, meeting Eddie’s eyes again, and Eddie can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, his own happiness apparently too much for his body to keep inside.

“I’m clearly not the writer in this relationship,” he says, with more laughter from the audience. “I’m not always the best with my words, but I am a man of action, and I always keep my promises. So I promise you, Edmundo Diaz, to always have your back. I promise to love you every day, and even more on the days that you don’t think you deserve to be loved. I promise to catch you when you fall and to always fight for you, even if you are the person I have to fight. You talk about how I found you, but baby, we found each other. And I have no intention of ever letting you go.” 

He takes a step past Eddie then, taking a knee in front of Chris and taking both of his small hands. “And you, Christopher,” he says. “I promise you that I will always keep you safe and do whatever I can to make sure you’re happy. I promise to help you be the best person you can be, and to support you no matter what. And I promise to always order extra olives on our pizza for you, even though I know your dad hates them.” Eddie snorts, and Chris’s laughter is loud and bright as he throws his arms around Buck’s neck, crutches clattering to the floor.

“I love you Buck.”

“I love you too buddy,” Buck whispers, kissing the side of Chris’s head. He straightens up, hands Chris his crutches before taking his place in front of Eddie again. It takes every ounce of strength he has to not kiss Buck right then, instead mouthing “I love you” because it’s the only thing that won’t get him yelled at by the officiant or Abuela.

They exchange rings, promising love and honor, to cherish each other until death do they part. Eddie’s hands are steady as he slides Buck’s ring on, because there’s nothing for him to be nervous about now. This is the one thing in his life he’s most certain about, most secure in, even more so than being a father sometimes. His love for Buck is unwavering, built of the strongest stuff in the universe. There’s no room for doubts to creep in.

The officiant wraps up, has barely pronounced them husbands when Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him in and kissing him like he’s been wanting to since he walked down the aisle. It’s deep and all-consuming and perfect, and Eddie feels absolutely electric. He kisses him again, and again, and one more time just because, before turning to scoop Chris up in his arms. He holds him on one hip, his other hand in Buck’s, and the three of them make their way back down the aisle through their clapping, cheering family.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cocktail hour passes in a blur as they mingle with guests on the back deck of the inn. They’re surrounded by the oranges and yellows of the autumn forest, and everything feels cozy and warm, full to bursting with happiness. The room is transformed for the reception, tables draped in burgundy and forest green, candles burning in their silver centerpieces, adding to the glow of the fairy lights. Dinner is lively, but everything is background noise to Eddie. He’s too wrapped up in Buck, in the feel of his arm around his shoulder, in watching him laugh, listening to him commentate on their family interacting and laughing along with him. Every so often he’s slapped by the reminder that this is it, that he and Buck are he and Buck forever, and he’s sure this unbridled joy that he feels will never fully wear off.

Maddie makes a speech, full of heartfelt wishes for their future together. Sophia makes one too, more focused on roasting her brother to oblivion, but with all the love in the world. When she’s done, she hands the microphone to Chris, who stands and faces the crowd.

“Hi, I’m Christopher, and those are my dads.” He points to Buck and Eddie at their table, and Eddie feels Buck’s breath hitch. It’s not the first time Chris has called them “his dads”, but it seems to catch Buck by surprise every time. Eddie smiles, kisses his cheek, and places a comforting hand on his thigh.

“I just want to say that I’m really glad Buck is officially part of our family now. Dad always tells me to find the things that make me happy, and I know Buck makes him very happy, and he makes me very happy too. I love you guys! Thank you!” Buck is up in an instant, quickly striding towards Chris to wrap him up and swing him around in a hug. Eddie is quickly behind him, arms coming around them both. 

As they set Chris down, the DJ announces that it’s time for the first dance. Buck offers his hand, leading Eddie out to the middle of the homemade dance floor, and Eddie once again feels like they’ve been transported to their own universe, just the two of them among the stars. As they sway, chests pressed together, eyes never leaving the other’s for long, Eddie takes in the lyrics of the song:

Life is ever changing but I will always

Find a constant and comfort in your love

With your heart my soul is bound

And as we dance I know that heaven can be found

And that’s what they are together: constant, comfortable, a home that they’ve both been searching for for longer than they can remember. Things won’t always be easy, since life never is, but they know that they’ll always be able to fall back on each other. No mistakes, no slip ups, no amount of darkness will be able to crack the steel-enforced foundation of their love. They’re in this together, tied together for life, and while that could be scary for some, it’s exhilarating for Eddie. He is finally, finally, in a love that consumes him. And he finally believes he’s worthy of it.

“What’s on your mind?” Buck asks, a curious smile on his face as they keep dancing.

“You,” Eddie responds, kissing Buck’s jaw as his blush grows. “Us. How much I love you. How excited I am for our future.”

Buck smiles, rivaling the sun, and rests their foreheads together. Eddie could stay in this starlight filled bubble of theirs forever.

“This is just the beginning, baby,” Buck says. “Us and Chris against the world. And it’s only gonna keep getting better from here.”

[nat-20s]

PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip.  I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into  a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being  poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a  full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of  naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

[theycallmegothboy]

1-100 >:DDDD REVENGE!!!

FELIXXXXXXXXXXXX >:(( 1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?  -spotify  2. is your room messy or clean? -it’s pretty messy i guess  3. what color are your eyes? -blue and grey

4. do you like your name? why? -yeah it’s fine 5. what is your relationship status? -single 6. describe your personality in 3 words or less -certified intrusive thot 7. what color hair do you have? -brown and rn it’s red 8. what kind of car do you drive? color? -i dont have a car 9. where do you shop? -hot topic, goodwill, target 10. how would you describe your style? -comfy emo 11. favorite social media account -of mine, probably discord or youtube 12. what size bed do you have? -twin >:(( 13. any siblings? -i have 1.5 brothers  14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? -probably vancouver, idk canada seems lit 15. favorite snapchat filter? -i like the one with devil horns and a tail but its cute 16. favorite makeup brand(s) -i dont wear makeup 17. how many times a week do you shower? -i used to shower every day, but i dont do anything that gets me dirty so like maybe 3 times but if i leave the house then i shower 18. favorite tv show? -stranger things 19. shoe size?  -8 or 9 20. how tall are you? -5′6 with shoes >:(( 21. sandals or sneakers? -sneakers wtf 22. do you go to the gym? -lol no 23. describe your dream date -making some pie or something together and then eating the pie and then sitting on some rooftop looking at stars 24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? -quite a bit actually but i’m saving up for a phone lol so soon it will be like maybe 10 dollars lmao 25. what color socks are you wearing? -not wearing socks but the ones i had earlier were white (ankle length) 26. how many pillows do you sleep with? -just one but it sucks 27. do you have a job? what do you do? -NO BUT IM TRYING TO GET A JOB BUT THE FUCKIN PEOPLE THERE ARE GHOSTING ME AND WONT REPLY TO MY EMAILS SO LIKE SBJHBJS 28. how many friends do you have? -like 4 lmao 29. whats the worst thing you have ever done? -idk nothing super bad but i do a lot of small shit that makes me feel guilty when i realize what i did 30. whats your favorite candle scent? -juniper rosewood 31. 3 favorite boy names -leo, clay, charlie 32. 3 favorite girl names -ivy, uh... idk thats all ive got 33. favorite actor? -no clue 34. favorite actress? -no clue 35. who is your celebrity crush? -not a celeb but i’d smash danny phantom 36. favorite movie? -nightmare before christmas or edward scissorhands 37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? -no, but my fav book is probably the prince and the pauper? idk 38. money or brains? -CASH MONEYYYY jk probably brains but if your entire personality is being “smart” like fuck off lmao   39. do you have a nickname? what is it? - a bunch of people call me son (see #49, #100), some call me rat, dumdum, goth boy

40.how many times have you been to the hospital? -just once i think when i was birthed. i also went once with my brother cause he kicked some scissors i left out on the floor and it sliced his toe the fuck open and he needed stitches and i watched him get the stitches and almost passed out :/ 41. top 10 favorite songs -please dont make me do this i dont have it in me 42. do you take any medications daily? -yea i take 20mg of vyvanse but i need to get it raised to 30 cause 20 is Not Enough 43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) -i got some dry fuckin skin yall dont even know 44. what is your biggest fear?  -it depends. the dark is a pretty constant one though 45. how many kids do you want? -like 2 or 3 eventually 46. whats your go to hair style? -in my face, looking stupid 47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)  -it’s pretty small 48. who is your role model? -i dont fuckin know lmao  49. what was the last compliment you received? - “i belive in you, my son, you’re an amazing human being“ (same friend mentioned in #100, not actually a parent of mine) 50. what was the last text you sent? -”no it’s a raccoon“ YOU GET NO CONTEXT LMAO 51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? -i dont think i ever hardcore believed in him, maybe i did though i remember sleeping under the tree one christmas eve waiting for him but i was like “oh yeah that makes sense“ i guess 52. what is your dream car?  -i honestly dont give a shit as long as it actually fucking works 53. opinion on smoking? -cigarettes? fuck no that’s nastyyy. weed? that’s fine i guess but wait till you’re like 18.  54. do you go to college? -no. am sophomore n highschool 55. what is your dream job?  -musician/palentologist 56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?  -fuck the suburbs lmao, but also im tired of rural, so like.. semi urban?? 57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?  -no but i take the little soaps >:)) 58. do you have freckles?  -yes 59. do you smile for pictures? -awkwardly, yes 60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?  -dont have a phone but i have like 12 on my computer currently. 4 are of me, the rest are of my cat or random shit 61. have you ever peed in the woods?  -yes 62. do you still watch cartoons?  -cartoons these days kinda suck but like if they were good fuck yeah i would like gravity falls can come hang yknow? 63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? -i had nuggets from mcdonalds today so i guess them? i dont really care 64. Favorite dipping sauce?  -i got sweet and sour but i dont like it that much. that schezuan sauce was great 65. what do you wear to bed?  -wouldnt you like to know? ;))  66. have you ever won a spelling bee?  -NO ive only been in two. the first one i misspelled the word “turmoil“ cause i had never heard it before and the second one i spelled the word “owed“ as “ode“ cause i was thinking like ode to joy and then i felt like a big Fool afterwards :(( 67. what are your hobbies? -lol what hobbies 68. can you draw?  -i am physically able to draw, but not well, no 69 (haha). do you play an instrument? -yeah i play a few 70. what was the last concert you saw?  -i saw Chicago in either georgia or tennessee i cant remember in like 2016 71. tea or coffee? -hot coffee, iced tea. NOT the other way around. (i love both though) 72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? -starbucks 73. do you want to get married? -sure why not 74. what is your crush’s first and last initial? -dont have a crush 75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?  -idk maybe 76. what color looks best on you?  -i dont know but i wear black a lot and that’s pretty dope 77. do you miss anyone right now? -yeah  78. do you sleep with your door open or closed? -closed 79. do you believe in ghosts? -on the fence. not 100% “oh my god look at these gHoSt oRbS i need to sage my house!!!“ but i accept that there’s some things i wont understand about the world and that i have no answers to. i wouldnt be surprised if there are, and i wouldnt be surprised if there aren’t. 80. what is your biggest pet peeve? -whatever my adhd decides i viscerally hate with a firey passion right at that moment  81. last person you called -my brother (the 1 of the 1.5 from #13 and the one who sliced his toe in #40) 82. favorite ice cream flavor?  -chocolate is dope 83. regular oreos or golden oreos?  -regular double stuff. if you say golden, mint, peppermint, or thin oreos i’m gonna have to euthanize you, i dont make the rules.  84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? -rainbow cause it’s prettier  85. what shirt are you wearing?  -queen shirt from hot topic 86. what is your phone background? -i didnt get a phone between question 60 and now but my computer one is some mountains with the moon in the background 87. are you outgoing or shy? -really depends on who i’m around 88. do you like it when people play with your hair? -YES FUCK AAAAAAA (this girl played with my hair literally once in middle school and i was like oh shit and i had a crush on her until the end of middle school true story,,, so ashley if you’re out there-) 89. do you like your neighbors? -to the left they’re fine and their dog is nice but idk what happened to the horses so that’s sus but that’s where our cat came from so they can hang  guess, behind me they’re fine but their boys are loud, to the right they’re fine, and even further to the right are the dope neighbors and waaaaaaaaaay far to the right is a llama and he’s dope as hell 90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? -whenever the fuck i remember to/have the energy 91. have you ever been high?  -i dont think so but i wouldnt put it past myself 92. have you ever been drunk?  -not that i can remember, no 93. last thing you ate?  -sloppy joe from a can 94. favorite lyrics right now -”not gonna waste my life, cause i’ve been fucked up“ 95. summer or winter?  -fall. fuck you 96. day or night?  -night but i like it when it’s actually night and it doesnt get dark at like 4 fucking pm cause that makes me depressed 97. dark, milk, or white chocolate? -dark is good, milk is fine, white is only suitable for fancy stripes on chocolate covered strawberries 98. favorite month?  -i vibe with september 99. what is your zodiac sign -sagittarius (was almost a scorpio but i was holding out >:))) 100. who was the last person you cried in front of?  -in person, my mom like 6 months ago, on a discord call, my friend (i love you by the way, you’re the best,,, i dont think he has tumblr but im just putting it out there) like a month or so ago. i hate crying in front of people, i turn into such a hyperventilating snot monster which is not suitable for human gaze and thats the real tea :/

felix this took like 2 hours of my life i will never get back i hate you and i hope you’re happy with what you’ve done <3 <3

also anyone who wants to stalk me, enjoy this information that im handing to you on a silver platter :)) <3

[youmightaswell]

Die!

What I did during my pandemic non-vacation

Right before the pandemic hit, my work was slow. My client stable was dwindling and so I set  the goal of finally compiling all my personal essays from the last 20 years into a book I'd call "The Unbearable Heaviness of Being". And then, serendipitously a  more literal unbearable heaviness of being hit.

Still, one would think a pandemic would be the ideal time to start that book. Maybe even start the "Letters from the Inside" book about my serial killer writing project for the last 10 years, or even my own memoir. I had nothing but time. I had to stay inside anyway. Nothing else was pressing, and I am usually especially creative during times of stress and hardship.

But lo!  I am also a procrastinator when it comes to a writing assignment -- even a self-inflicted one.  

So over the last three months I found every excuse not to write those long-form pieces. It seems like all I did was bathe, eat, eat some more, and lay around in bed, most often talking to the dog in guise of actually talking to myself. I spent an inordinate amount to time figuring out how to handle my grooming at home now that my external fleet of professionals were no longer available. Day after day I wore sweats or pjs (careful to change from day ones to night ones once the nightly New Year’s Eve-type cheering started, a new type of closing bell.) The one day I felt invigorated and optimistic enough to put on jeans I had to peel them off by mid-day unsure of how I ever wore such a tortuous garment. 

I felt comfort when I saw reassuring messages on Instagram -- which along with Facebook and Twitter, I spent an inordinate amount of time on -- saying that it was just fine not to produce anything during this quarantine. That is was an unprecedented time and one that was highly stressful so it is fine to do whatever you want to keep calm and keep on...  I did just that, or at least it seemed so. I felt like a sloth, eating carbs and sugar -- things for the last two years I carefully avoided. I texted exes, fought with feral Trump supporters, washed dry-clean only clothes. You know, indulged in the wildest of vices.

The shelter-in-place mandate will come to a close soon. Being in NYC, probably it will take longer than most areas to dissolve, but still the streets are getting a bit more crowded, and people seem to be back in my NYC apartment building, once again, hogging the dryers (which I then have to neurotically wipe down with disinfectant wipes.)

So I initially felt a bit down at what a failure I've been to do something productive during this time.

As a result, I decided to take inventory of my last three months. ***

- I applied for PPP (dealing with Chase bank for two months having  to re-apply three different times at their ever-changing directives, only to be told they couldn't verify my income and therefore I was turned down). I applied for EIDL,got $1000 payment and then was told that because inadvertently answered a question wrong -- these applications are super hard--I was denied and now they were only allowing re-applications of agricultural industry workers. Then I applied for freelancer unemployment, twice, only to not be able to get through, not be able to revise my PUA application and am still waiting to hear something, anything.  As such with  EIDL, PPP, SBA, WHO and all other pandemic-related acronyms, I now have a great fear -- PTSD, if you will -- of acronyms in general. No good can come from them. 

- I washed my hands -- and my dog’s paws -- a billion times. I also did way too much laundry because in times of stress and lack of control, my OCD (another scary acronym!) gets rampant and doing finite tasks makes me feel more in charge. I saged my apartment weekly, casting out negative energy and viruses and calling upon all good things to enter instead. The only entrance was made by my super who yelled at me for mentioning him in an article I wrote about my doorman who passed away from Covid-19. Still, I disinfected doorknobs, elevator buttons, and even the container of wipes, multiple times as if trying to free a genie in a bottle, to no avail.

- I tended to all sorts of medical tests for myself and my dog, culminating in standing a long line to get the Covid-19 antibody tests. (Sadly I was negative.) 

-I binged watched (Dead to Me) and cringe watched (White Lines), valuing a good hate-watch more than quality programming. 

- I read about 10 books, a few that have stayed with me in the best way possible, such as "My Dark Vanessa" and "Excavation".

- I listened to the full true-horror podcast "Let's Not Meet" - because sometimes the only way to quell true-horror is with true-horror. Hair of the dog sort of thing.

- I tracked down ARCs (one of the nicer acronyms) of books that will come out later this year so I could read them without any preconceived notions about them. 

- I finally watched the backlog of hoarded movies I had borrowed from the NYPL: The best of which was "Giant", a classic 3.5 hour saga.

- I read countless magazines and most things I read were drivel, but then I curated the best essays and realized they all seemingly dealt with food, which makes total sense during a pandemic when we all reverted back into hunter gatherers.    “Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over,” the NYT’s written by restaurant owner/chef of Prune, and the essay by art critic Jerry Saltz about his peculiar eating habits were the best.  While they all seemingly dealt with food and eating, they really don't deal with that at all.  They definitely appeased my appetite for touching writing.  

- And I did some touching writing of my own. I wrote an essay about the death by Covid-19 of my favorite doorman to much notice. It was the article I’ve written that has gotten shared the most online, I think, ever! More importantly, it touched his family in a way that seems significant, his daughter reaching out to me with this message: 

- Related: I organized a GoFundMe for the aforementioned late doorman’s family and raised over $7,000 in just one week! I got our whole complex and neighborhood to participate, and I believe it helped us collectively mourn. 

- Related, I helped a dear friend with dealing with heartbreaking news that her elderly mother had contracted Covid-19. She called me the night she found out to weigh options. Sadly her mother passed. I had a tree planted in her mother’s honor. 

- I signed up with Postcrossing and sent postcards to people all over the world and have gotten a ton back. In times of isolation it helps to feel connected in some way. 

- In that same vein, I participated Oregon Humanities’ “Dear Stranger” project - in which one writes a letter to a stranger and sends it to the organization and they exchange it with other stranger’s letter and mail that one to you. Interestingly I wrote my letter on an old map. The letter I got in return was by a female freelance writer of my same age, also written on an old map. More serendipity! More connection without ever leaving the apartment. 

- I saw a segment on NY1 talking about how this pandemic and isolation is taking its toll on seniors and one NYC nursing home that was requesting cards and letters to cheer them up. It was the catalyst for me to start a new project I call: “Letters from the Inside... of the Senior Center” - in which I researched and compiled a list of nursing homes around the country who accept letters of cheer to their seniors. I now have a list of about 800 names. I’ve sent about 75 cards/postcards myself so far, and have enlisted friends, neighbors, and others to send cards as well. My goal is to get each senior at least one card or letter. 

- I had a milestone birthday with little fanfare. My dog, Biggie, turned three. 

- I finally finished annotating each chapter of “Blind Eye,” the best-selling book about serial killer Michael Swango, who I have written to for 10+ years as part of the aforementioned “Letters from the Inside” project I created. I sent him questions on each chapter. 

- Related: After 10 long years of corresponding, on my birthday we started what has now turned out to be weekly calls. His prison has finally allowed them. Last call I told him that he has not answered my last few letters. He told me to yell at him, remind him, and push him to get on it. I quipped that it was probably not in my best interest to antagonize someone who murdered 60+ people. True horror, indeed. 

- The CNN docu-series about him in which I appear as an expert was postponed but will air later this summer. 

- Speaking of true horrors, I had a woman threaten to spit on me when I requested she leash her dog -- who had tried to attack Biggie. (Odd foreshadowing for the recent Amy Cooper debacle.) 

- I lost my long-time nurse (I get immuno-therapy infusions twice a month and have for years for an immune disorder) because she was fired by her nursing company. After having to deal with an inadequate string of nurses I lobbied to get my nurse hired at my pharmacy’s nursing division so now she can be my nurse again. She is thrilled she has a job; I am thrilled I have my old friend back each month. 

- I feel in love with Cuomo.

***

After sitting down and taking this inventory, I am amazed at how much I have actually done in such a short period of time. It seems insane that I was feeling so bad and slothlike for being so unproductive, when in retrospect, I actually accomplished a lot. 

I guess what I can take away from this long stretch of isolation is this: We can’t see how far we are traveling without looking back on our journey. While something -- particularly traumatic or stressful -- is happening, it is easy to feel static, frozen and worse, uncreative. But feelings aren’t facts. 

Just because I didn’t write my book, I did lots of creative things with my time. I was tangibly helpful to others without even noticing it when I was doing it. I felt like I was faltering and failing, but in looking back at that list above, I really wasn’t. I may have even excelled. 

And now, I think I need to lay down. 

[lenncnwintxr]

*/ HALSTON SAGE , 21 , CISFEMALE, SHE/HER . i just watched dean matthews pull lennon winter into his office. maybe it has something to do with them being a member of phi alpha phi. yeah, i spoke to lenny few times. they’re a junior studying fashion design. apparently they’re from upper east side, new york. maybe that’s why they’re so stubborn and captivating, i don’t know, man. all i know is they’re always listening to she’s thunderstorms by the arctic monkeys.

basics:

name : lennon antoinette winter

nicknames : len, lenny, blondie

age : twenty-one

birthday : 12 february (aquarius)

sexuality : bisexual

born :  upper east side, nyc

height : 5′5

favorite color : purple

fluent in: english, french, & italian

hogwarts house : slytherin

major : fashion design

sorority : phi alpha phi

extracurriculars: cheerleading (base), dance team, theater (actor) 

notable character references : rebekah mikaelson (tvd) & serena van der woodsen (gg)

family:

mother : diana winter ( née carmichael)

father : liam winter

little sister : abra winter (20)

about:

lennon was born and raised in the upper east side of new york with both her parents and younger sister. her mom being a well known fashion designer and her father being a musician.

 thankful that her and her little sister are close in age, they’re best friends. have always been there for each other through everything for their entire lives. even now. lennon can trust her with anything.

they grew up surrounded by music and lavish parties, lennon soon realized how much she loved to sing. her sister and father would play instruments and she’d dance around the living room and sing for them. though she quickly stuck to only singing in the shower once she saw how talented her sister was. sure lennon loved being in the spotlight, but wanted each of them to have their own and shine together. 

she was the young girl who would sneak into her mother’s closet when they had a gala or late night function the girl’s weren’t old enough to attend yet. perfecting the art of walking in heels by the age of 5.

she’d sneak into her mom’s workshop and “borrow” designs off her rack for parties, being sure to but the items back before morning.

lennon was always drawn to fashion, wearing it, creating it...you name it. when she was finally able to go to all the events she’d study what everyone was wearing, learning what was popular and using it to start designing her own clothes.

she never thought she was any good, so for a while she stuck to drawing anything she could: fruit, people, nature. anything that didn’t involve clothes, but she always found herself coming back. 

in the gossip girl world that was her life, lennon was serena. bubbly, fun, loving to be the center of attention, a party girl. she’d been the other woman a few times, letting herself get close to men quickly without asking questions before it was too late and she ended up hurt. now she sticks to flings, guarding her heart to not show anyone the hopeless romantic underneath. 

her last real boyfriend hurt her the worst, hence being the last, but he’s the guy that made her see just how amazing she was at designing clothes. she had some major trust issues now, but still found a way to thank him for letting her realize her potential.

they’d volunteer as a family, give to every charity they could. her parents knew how important it would be to selecting collages for her and her sister and that plus all of lennon’s extra curriculars and grades, it helped her get accepted here. 

she quickly found herself blending in with the alpha phi sorority. once she was accepted in as a member she didn’t realize how much the extra sisterhood would provide a comfort to her. 

after she graduates her mother wants lennon to sign on and be apart of her business, but even though she’s always loved her mom’s clothes she doesn’t see their visions missing well together. she doesn’t know how to tell her, but she’d rather start something fresh on her own. 

facts:

 if there’s a party you’ll be sure to find her there, especially with a drink in hand

while in high school she found out her father used to be a bit of a hippie when he was growing up and that soon led her to find his weed stash, which she would occasionally steal from. he liked to smoke with his buddies when they played poker or golf, sometimes even waiting to smoke in the house when everyone was asleep. 

she only fully trusts one person in her life: her sister

she’s her sister’s opposite. being very outgoing and down to try anything once, the could charm her way in and out of anything she wanted

 she loves both her parents though it’s pretty clear to her that her father prefers abra, since she was the one with the musically talented genes. 

she’s always felt this bit of responsibility to make her mother proud and constantly feels that pressure.

where she goes, trouble tends to follow. 

she’s a big dog lover.

feels that shopping sprees, vacations, or macaroons can solve any problem.  

has a small tattoo of a bow on her left hand, middle finger. 

connections?:

the last boyfriend : open. he was her number one support system, made her realize how amazing she was at fashion design. if it wasn’t for him she’d probably still be sketching trees. he broke her trust and they ended up breaking up, she hasn’t been in a real relationship since.

best friends : open/f/nb. open/m/nb. besides her sister these two people are always there for her when she needs them. 

fwb/hookups/flings : franco. open. open. being a girl who isn’t one for relationships anymore, it leaves the girl with a lot of free time. she get’s bored easily so there’s more than one but it’s always fun and carefree, just like her.

revenge hookup : open. started as a fling to get back at one of her friends/exes, etc. and now the two just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

childhood friend : raina. their mother’s quickly became friends, always visiting lennon’s mother’s store to get the best designer clothes they could. which led to the two girls talking while their moms did, getting close and spending time together at events. 

protective friendship : open. the person who always comes to her rescue, won’t let anyone mess with her or talk bad about her in their presence. often is seen throwing lennon over his shoulder and carrying her out of parties before she does something dumb.

bad influence : zo. the two always have a good time out together, fueling each other’s bad decisions, daring one another to do something crazier  

cuddle buddy : open. a sort of confidant relationship that usually revolves around them spilling their guts or talking shit, cuddling with no cares in the world. possible that the cuddling could lead to something more romantic. 

sexual tension : open. the two can’t seem to stay away from each other and though nothing sexual has happened yet...they’re never far from crossing over that line.

skinny love : open.

unspoken crush : open. lennon would never let herself get into another serious relationship but this person makes her doubt all her willpower. 

party friend : open. the person who wouldn’t been seen far away from lennon at a party. both having drinks in their hands and having a good time on whatever dance floor they could find. 

partner in crime : alana. family friends that blossomed into being the first person lennon ever got high with back in hs. they were talking one night after getting high and both found themselves curious about being with another girl. 

occasional drug buddy : open. when lennon gets high, she likes to do it around someone else, this person allows her to feel comfortable and have a good time. often seen calling her to smoke as well.

supplier : open. in college lennon doesn’t have easy access to her dad’s stash anymore, this person supplies her with whatever when she needs it.

frenemy : noelle. sure the two of them are friends, but more often the two can be seen butting heads, thinking the other is out to get them and embarrass them in front of everyone. they take turns fighting for dominance but still manage to label the other as ‘friend’.

rival : open.

enemies : open.

friends turned enemies : open.

(idk i just started listing things lol. but i’m down for anything and everything.)

[lingeringscars]

bellamy, callie, adrian

bellamy:

okay this is gonna be mostly rp and therefore @terrifyingstories based

rose. this was one of the best things tiffany and i have ever done. they're just perfect for each other?? they both have these outbursts and believe in justice and fight for their people. they're willing to do anything for their people. don't really have identities outside of their job and people. but then they find each other and are able to find themselves! they're partners! in every way! they share with each other and are vulnerable with each other and put EACH OTHER first which is not allowed in their society. but they do! they make space for each other and heal and are EVERYTHING.

daisy. they are almost the same, except that daisy has a way of taking every situation and finding something good in it. which is something bellamy cannot do. also daisy believes in freedom of information, while bellamy thinks that some things are better kept secret for people's safety. he doesn't quite understand or believe in people coming together to help each other if they have all the information. which makes sense when you remember that the system killed his mother and locked up his sister in canon and this is just tweaked a bit in a.os to still work. anyway they're each others best friends and instantly connect to each other and daisy pesters him until he's opening up to her, too. they love each other so much and get married and have a bunch of children and a dog. both grew up feeling unwanted by their parents ( even if bellamy ignores all this <3 ) and raise these kiddos w/ so much love it's so beautiful. they're stupid and take a million years to date despite being in love the entire time too.

gina. in canon this is bellamys what could have been. she dies when he asks her to stay behind hoping that it will keep her safe :((( they're very tender and bellamy isn't in love yet but cares about them SO MUCH and thinks that they're the brightest light in the world. we have our own gina lives au where clarke comes back from the woods and bellamy and gina get married and have three kids <3

already answered callie and nothing to add! which means everyone in rp should ship w/ cal

adrian:

sydney. MY LIGHT IN THE DARK. THE CENTER WILL HOLD / THE CENTER IS US. YOUR EYES SAGE. HE'S DONE EVERYTHING TO ME. anyway they're perfect !! truly ! mead has the capability to do so good and so bad. if she could just stick with the good then everyone would be s/ydrian (and eventually c/hrissa which i will get to). they bring out the best in each other. they want to be good for the other because they are inspired by them. they want to be the best versions of themselves. forbidden love. they are excellent.

rose. right person wrong time. rose's life is hell, and adrian really should never should have asked her to be in a relationship with him. like... he didn't know how serious her past relationship was and def didn't know what happened while she was in russia but .. still.. bud.. still he did love her and she did love him. they just weren't in a place where that could matter or work out. they mean the world to me though.

buffy. yes you read that right. buffy!! adrian loves her so much and will keep on loving her. he will go as slow and she needs him to, and she also inspires him to be better. he loves her so much, even if he is an evil monster that she was born to kill. he makes jokes about glistening in the sun hoping to make her laugh. he loves her laugh and everything about her and that makes me GIDDY. them <3

[avengers-nextgen]

Prometheus I (Part 2)

“When did that happen?” Piper’s mouth hung open so far Alex had to close it for her.

“Who cares,” James laughed, “it’s great. You go Scout!”

“Stop, you’re gonna embarrass him.” Nathaniel scolded earning an agreeing nod from Alex.

“This day couldn’t get better.” Arthur sighed.

— — —

Bonding together the kids spent the next hour or two cleaning up Orion’s confetti but it was worth it. They danced about to music, told jokes, exchanged stories, and everything seemed to be going well.

“Man, I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Orion sighed, resting his chin on his broom handle. “You’ve all changed so much.”

“Are you calling me old?” Nathaniel clutched his heart.

“No you dolt!” Orion whacked him on the butt with his broom. “I just mean everyone looks different, and I guess it’s just odd. We all had personal things going on and it’s changed us.”

“Great, now I’m all nostalgic.” Piper mumbled.

“Just a thing I noticed,” Orion shrugged.

“You’re right, but I’d rather not think about it.” Alex admitted. “It feels wrong somehow.”

After that no one spoke for a long time until the mess was cleaned. Once the brooms were safely packed up the cleaning crew of kids began to file inside when the thrum of an engine sounded once more.

“Who else is-“ James frowned in bewilderment before he recalled who was missing. “It seems Wakanda has arrived.”

As soon as James mentioned the W word Thalia was already waiting for the stupid ramp to open. She looked like a little dog waiting to see it’s owner after a long vacation.

“She’s so bloody adorable,” Arthur mused. “Like a little puppy.”

Siyanda didn’t get a chance to step off the ramp before she was flat on her back with an excited blonde looking at her wide eyed. “Geez, I was not expecting that.”

“Hi,” Thalia grinned like a little kid.

Siyanda rolled her eyes and sighed before pulling Thalia in for a kiss. She’d missed the girl and even in the two seconds of meeting her again she was head over heels. Siyanda had missed the innocent, happy, fun loving God more than ever when surrounded by stingy, bossy, and annoying people.

Thalia pulled back from the kiss only for need of air. Siyanda trailed her thumbs across Thalia’s cheeks and studied the other girl’s face, but Thalia knew something was wrong right away. “You bring bad news.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your face,” Thalia sat upright in concern, “what is it?”

— — —

“He’s strange and powerful,” Siyanda explained during the last minute meeting, “I don’t know who he is exactly but...”

“He’s scary,” Enzo whimpered. The boy had tucked his knees to his chest and hid his face in them too.

“Yes,” Siyanda nodded. “I’m not one to be afraid, but this has truly frightened me.”

“That’s enough for tonight,” Tony decided. “Fury?”

“All of you get rest. I’ll do my best to find more information and rally a plan.” Already Fury had a look in his eye that was unsettling. No one argued as they scrambled off to bed.

“You can sleep with me,” Arthur offered, “since we’re bunk buddies. Just in case you get nightmares, okay Enzo?”

“Thanks,” The younger boy nodded, but it was clear he was thoroughly rattled.

— — —

“You won’t believe this,” Thalia beamed, clasping her hands together, “I found my mother.”

“Really?” Siyanda’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Thalia, that’s amazing!”

“I know,” Thalia nodded, “come on, I think you’ll like her.”

Thalia dragged the princess through the halls in search of her mother. She discovered the woman standing on one of the balconies looking at the stars. Thor was there too which was perfect in Thalia’s opinion. Both of them in one place!

“Thalia wait a sec-“ Siyanda didn’t finish her sentence as Thalia eased the door open a crack.

“What did you expect me to tell her?” Sif demanded. “A lie?”

“Of course not.” Thor scoffed. “But I’m her father, and I’ve been degraded down to a villain because of you and my brother.”

“It was your actions that have given you this result, not me, and not Loki.” Thalia paused, and Siyanda thought she would leave, but a look of resolution passed over the girl’s face. She stayed to hear the rest.

“This isn’t my fault.” Thor shook his head.

“When will you ever claim ownership for something?”

“You led me on.”

“So it’s my fault?” Sif glared. “I was there for you when no one else was, and I was nothing more than a friend! I set boundaries that you didn’t follow.”

“I followed them.” Thor insisted. “To the mark.”

“No, you were so caught up in the mortal that you couldn’t even think clearly. You need to stop pining over someone you can’t have and move on with your life.” Sif hissed.

“Is that what you did when you took me to bed?” Thor set his jaw. It happened in a flash, the sound was harsh and loud, and a handprint settled across Thor’s cheek.

“You bastard. You absolute horrid monster!” It was clear the goddess was trying to control her anger, but she was barely succeeding. “I loved you. For years! I knew where I stood. I did not make advances because I knew you didn’t want them. The man that showed up on my doorstep that day was not the person I fell in love with as a child. I trusted you, invited you into my home, and you took advantage of me in a moment of weakness. I was alone, scared, and as confused as you were when I learned what happened to our home.”

Thor touched the welt gingerly. “You were never a child, Sif.”

“Because someone had to shoulder the responsibilities you ran away from.” A pause settled for only a moment. “You used to be kind, caring, compassionate, and full of love.”

“The world chews those people up and spits them out,” Thor frowned, “there’s no room for it here. Maybe on Asgard, but not here.”

“Then go back to Asgard.”

“Asgard is gone! My home is gone.” Thor snapped.

“No, it’s not.” Sif shook her head. “You’re so close minded you can’t even see that your daughter has done all of the work for you. She’s brought Asgard to you. Asgard isn’t a place it’s a people. That’s what your father always said. Find a place to make your home, nurture it, and make Asgard better than it ever was before. Here, on earth.”

“You act as if Thalia isn’t yours,” Thor scoffed.

“She wasn’t the moment you took her from me.” Sif’s expression became wounded. “And you have no idea how much you’ve hurt the people around you. How you’ve hurt your brother. Your family.”

“I did what I had to with Sage.” Thor argued. “She’s dangerous.”

“No, she wasn’t dangerous until you made her the enemy. You formed a self fulfilling prophecy for yourself and for her.” Thalia felt her eyes welling with tears. She wasn’t too sure how to feel but she was the slightest bit proud of her mother. She knew the truth behind Sage and Enzo. The reason for their stories. It took damaged souls to understand damaged souls. “And rather than help fix what you broke you left it in pieces.”

“She’s found her path,” Thor sighed.

“She’s the only one absent.” Sif remarked. “Because she’s afraid of you. And honestly, I am too.”

“That’s not fair-“

“It is.” Sif began to move towards the door. “And I believe you have quite a bit of thinking to do.”

Thalia scampered back quickly with Siyanda in tow. She darted back to her room and didn’t stop until the door was shut.

“Thalia...”Si started carefully, “you okay?”

Thalia didn’t answer. She just gripped her pillow to her chest and hid her face in it. Siyanda rested next to her and pulled Thalia into a hug. “I always thought I was the result of something more than my father’s impulsiveness.”

“That’s not your fault,” Siyanda insisted.

“Everyone here has been born because of love. Even Bianca, to an extent, and I’m just the result of-of rape.” Thalia sobbed. “I was an accident!”

“Not all accidents are bad. In fact, my aunt discovers most of her biggest advancements through accidents.” Siyanda ran a hand through Thalia’s hair. “Chocolate chip cookies were an accident.”

“I like cookies,” Thalia mumbled.

“Exactly. Now, things aren’t perfect but they can change. Family is always tricky business.” Siyanda sighed. “The question is do you love them?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

“But do they love me?” Thalia cried.

“Of course. Mother’s always love their kids, and your father did raise you. Whether it was in a healthy environment or not. Even adults-and Gods-have a lot to learn from their own mistakes. Maybe this is a good opportunity and you just don’t know it yet.” Thalia nodded at Siyanda’s words and remained quiet until she’d fallen asleep.

Thor lingered outside with his hand hovering over the door to knock, and he’d heard all of it. His gut twisted painfully and his thoughts were at war with each other once more. With a second thought, he assumed it was best to leave them alone, and he went on his way.