#Three-Wick Candle (Mr. 3)

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@waxgentleman continued from here:

Ikkaku rolled her eyes at Mr. 3's terse reply to her comment. "No. We Hearts like to solve our problems with weed, too. Sometimes even stronger stuff than that. When your captain can remove any poison from your system, it's easy to experiment with stuff."

Yet despite her flippancy, she was genuinely concerned for the butler's mental well-being. She eyed the stacks of paperwork on his desk, though because she was feeling a bit petty from his rudeness, she didn't bother to warn him or try to stop the tower of papers that toppled over, making a mess. However, when he apologized, she did deign to help him clean it up.

"Personally, I'd diagnose you with Stockholm Syndrome, but there's a reason I'm not a doctor," she replied. She supposed she could understand his dilemma, though. Ikkaku had hated her home island, but she'd been a bit hesitant to leave it, despite the horrors and misery. It was natural to crave familiarity, even if it was awful. And for a workaholic like Mr. 3, she supposed that spending his days looking after the castle of a man who knew how to clean up after himself would get terribly boring after a while. And now he was back in the thick of cleaning up Buggy's messes, and he was learning the hard way why the boring life had been better than the familiar one. "And if I'm honest, my suggestion for dealing with all of this paperwork would be 'burn it, along with the whole damn circus tent', but I get that's probably not really helpful. So, alcohol is gonna have to do."

Snorting at his remark about her being old enough to drink, but proud of him for taking her suggestion and putting himself first, she followed him out of the room. For all the Buggy was making him do all the real work, the clown could have at least given him a nicer area to work. Like, an executive suite or something instead of that cramped makeshift office. Maybe she'd put the fear of God into the clown later and force him to give up his own rooms or something.

"I've been legally old enough to drink since I was sixteen. At least, by the laws of Joras I was. And I'm pretty sure I was drinking stronger stuff than you'll find in the whole Grand Line to boot," she chuckled. Linking her fingers behind her head, she casually strolled alongside Mr. 3. "So, what's your poison? You a guy who drinks straight whiskey, or are you secure enough in your own masculinity to enjoy a fruity cocktail?"

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Inside Man: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: The gang is split into two. Sam and Cas continue to look for the cure for the Mark with the help of someone who will do anything to bring you back. You and Dean face off with Rowena but this time, you're going to show her that you're the most powerful witch there is, and damn her if she thinks she can beat you.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

There's a psychic, Oliver Pryce, who is living in town and who Sam thinks is strong enough to connect to someone in Heaven. He's located two towns over so Sam and Cas immediately head over there.

"Who is this guy?" Cas asks.

"So, back in the '50s, Oliver Pryce was a kid psychic. He performed everywhere--carnivals, Atlantic City, you name it. He was the real deal. The Men of Letters were teaching him how to control his powers when they were killed. The point is, he's one of the good guys. He might be happy to see us."

Sam and Cas approach Oliver's house and see a "No Trespassing" sign on his fence.

"Or not," Cas says.

Sam walks past the fence, walks up the porch steps, and pounds on his front door.

"Mr. Pryce? Oliver Pryce!"

No response.

"I'll break it down," Cas says seriously.

"Dude, chill."

"What? I'm helping." The front door opens and Oliver stands there with a slight glare. "Just follow my lead." Cas turns to the older man. "Mr. Pryce? This is Sam--"

"Winchester. You're Sam Winchester, Man of Letters."

"How did you know?"

"Mind reader, remember?" Oliver's eyes look Cas up and down as he tries to figure out who or what he is. "What are you?"

"I'm an Angel."

"No, you can't be," Oliver frowns.

"Why not?"

"I'm an atheist."

"Not anymore," Sam says. Both he and Cas enter Oliver's house and Oliver escorts them to the living room. There are pictures of Oliver during his younger years hanging on the wall. "Is that you?"

"It was me. I don't do the psychic stuff anymore. Being around people, it's kind of... Hell, all those brains yapping all the time drive a guy bananas."

"Because you can hear everyone's thoughts?" Cas asks.

"Well, not yours. All I'm getting from you is colors. The hippie over here? I'm seeing some creep-ass hobbit-lookin' fella and a prison cell?"

Sam frowns at being called a hippie but lets it go.

"That's Heaven's jail," Cas says.

"Heaven's got a fucking jail?"

"Yeah, it does, and we're looking to break someone out of it. We have an inside man but we need your help to talk to him."

"If I say no?"

"You're the mind reader," Sam smirks.

"I'll get my shit," Oliver sighs. Oliver sets his living room up like one of his seance sessions and sits in between Sam and Cas. Candles cover the surface of the table and a small radio sits in the middle of the table. "Do you have anything that belonged to the deceased?"

"Yeah, right here."

Sam pulls out Bobby's hat and sets it on the table. If anyone will have enough motivation to help you and Dean, it's your dad.

"Good. Now shut up and hold hands."

All three men do and Oliver begins chanting something in Latin. The lights start to flicker, the table shakes slightly, and the candles start shooting flames from the wicks. Once Oliver is done chanting, he opens his eyes and nods to Sam.

"Bobby? Bobby, can you hear me?" Silence. "Bobby, we need your help."

"Sam?"

Bobby's voice comes from the radio in the middle of the table. Sam doesn't know how long this connection will last so he speaks fast and tells Bobby everything that has been happening with you and Dean.

"Y/N is turning into a monster, Bobby. She's soulless and pretty soon, your daughter won't be your daughter. She'll be beyond saving. Anyway, that's the short version of what's been happening. Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Bobby says thickly. "What about Joanna?"

Sam looks at Cas.

"All I know is that they're safe. She's a witch again, Bobby, which means she can read minds. Dean and I can't know where they are."

"They? There's more than just Joanna?"

"We don't have time to get into this right now, Bobby."

"Okay, just so I'm hearing this right, you have to figure out a way to get the Mark of Cain off Dean before he turns back into a demon and off Y/N before she goes postal?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So, just another day at the office for you boys, huh? Put Dean on the line."

"Dean's not here. Y/N isn't either."

"Why not?"

"Y/N threatened her kids. She made him promise not to look for the cure or else she'll find her kids and kill them. She doesn't want this cure, Bobby. Dean's distracting her right now. I never made any promise to find the cure."

"Shit," Bobby sighs. "Alright, what's the plan?"

"Each soul in Heaven is locked in its own private paradise," Cas explains. "That's where you are now. You need to escape. You need to find the gate to Earth and open it. Then you and I will find Metatron, the Scribe of God."

"Hey, Sam, you remember when this job was just chopping up some fang and tossing back a cold one?"

"I miss that," Sam sighs.

"Ditto. So, while I'm playing Steve McQueen, is anyone gonna be looking for me?"

"Everyone," Cas answers. "The Angels will not like a soul wandering free."

"Do you have a way to slow them down?"

"Not exactly. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Bobby. You always do."

"Listen, I appreciate the warm and fuzzy, but I ain't exactly playing on the big leagues these days. I'm mostly drinking and reading the classics. Truth is, I'm rusty and maybe there's somebody better out there."

"Bobby, there isn't. I'm telling you, if you love Y/N and Dean in the way I know you do, you'll do this for them... for me."

Bobby takes two deep breaths before scoffing.

"Hell, I'm already dead. What's the worst that could happen? What do I need to do?"

"You need to find your Heaven's escape hatch. Look for something that shouldn't be there, and that's your way out."

"If I find a way out, then what?"

"You'll be in a long hallway with a bunch of doors. The gate to Earth will be behind number forty-two."

"Okay."

Bobby gets off his ass and starts looking around in the small room he always stays in and drinks. Nothing seems out of the ordinary but there is something on the carpet he only notices until now. A small white string is sticking out of the carpet he's standing on. He reaches down and pulls on it, and a doorway opens on the back wall. White light pours from it and he smirks.

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in."

The second that Bobby steps through the door into the hallway, the connection to Bobby is severed. Sam and Cas, after thanking Oliver, head back to the playground. They stay stuck in the shadows so the angels don't suspect anything. All they have to do is wait for Bobby to open the gate and Cas can go through without a hitch.

"This better work. I need my brother and best friend back," Sam sighs.

"You sure he can handle this?" Cas asks.

"He's Bobby. He can handle anything, especially when it comes to his daughter."

The second Bobby sets foot into the hallway, the alarm blares and he bangs his fist on the wall.

"Balls!"

If Bobby doesn't do something now, the angels will come for him and ruin everything. He looks at the endless doors in the hallway and gets an idea. He starts opening up all the doors and calling out for their occupants. Before he knows it, a ton of people are wandering the halls looking confused. That's when the angels come including Hannah.

"What? Find out how this happened," Hannah says to one of the other angels. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I need you to return to your Heavens in a calm, orderly manner."

"Oh, yeah? Well, who made you boss?" Bobby says loudly.

"Right?"

"Who the hell you think do you are?" another person asks.

This causes an outrage where the souls are trying to fight back against the angels. Bobby uses this and escapes while the angels are occupied. He slips into another hallway and searches for door forty-two. When he finds it, he pushes it open. Sam and Cas have been waiting patiently for Bobby to find the door. A rift opens from above the sandbox and the two men jump into action. Sam runs to keep the guarding angels back while Cas runs for the door.

"Go! Go!" Sam says and tackles one of the angels to the ground.

Cas jumps through the door of Heaven and slides on the floor right in front of Bobby.

"Welcome to the party," Bobby chuckles. Bobby helps Cas to his feet and pats him on the back. "So, I need you to tell me how bad it really is."

"Um..."

"Cas, what's happening?"

"Dean is angry all the time. Y/N doesn't have a soul. Dean has it. He sucked her soul out of her when Metatron killed him. He tainted hers as dark as his so we're waiting for her soul to purify before we can put it back in."

"Does Dean know you're here?"

"He knows we're looking for a way to get the Mark off. He doesn't know you're involved. Y/N doesn't know anything. If she does, she will hurt your granddaughters and grandson."

"Wait." Bobby stops Cas from walking and gets tears in his eyes. "I have three grandchildren?"

If he doesn't know about Maryann, he doesn't know about Robert and what happened to him.

"Maryann was born two years after Joanna. She was a twin. Robert, your grandson, didn't make it. He was a stillborn. Noah is adopted. Y/N found him at a time when they needed each other."

"I have three grandkids," Bobby whispers to himself.

"You might not if Y/N continues down this road."

Cas leads Bobby to the prison where Metatron currently is. He looks up when the two men enter and grins knowingly.

"Well, howdy, fellas."

"This is the Scribe of God? He looks like a Fraggle," Bobby scoffs.

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment. That was an excellent program."

"Metatron, we are here--"

"I know why you're here, Asstiel, and I'm not interested. I told you I would rather die than let Dean and Y/N Winchester use me as their personal punching bag again."

"Don't worry. They're not involved. You're gonna be my punching bag," Cas glares.

"Ah, the B team, huh? Interesting. Keys are over there." Metatron points to the keys hanging on the wall. "Chop chop!"

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Bobby asks.

"Unfortunately."

Sam killed both angels so they wouldn't blab to the other ones of what Cas did. He's been waiting patiently by the car for the door to Heaven to open again. It's been about two hours when it finally opens, and Cas steps out with Metatron. Bobby isn't with him. He didn't think he would be.

"Sam-tastic! Miss me?" Metatron sniffs the air. "Oh, smell that? That smells like freedom. Well, let's go. I call shotgun!"

Metatron tries walking to the car but Cas pulls him back by his jacket collar.

"You don't get to make demands, Metatron. You're not in charge here."

"Oh, I'm afraid I am. I know about the Mark. I have your Grace. I make the rules. It's called leverage, boys. Learn it, live it, love it."

Sam and Cas look at each other, and the Winchester nods to the angel once. Without blinking, Cas slides out his angel blade and slices Metaron's neck horizontally. It's not to kill him, no, it's to steal his Grace. He did it so fast that Metatron didn't have enough time to react. Before he knows it, his Grace is trapped in a small container Sam brought.

Metatron is human.

Knowing he won't heal from this, Sam takes out his gun and shoots Metatron in the leg. The former angel screams in pain and falls on his ass while reaching for his bleeding leg.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"We have your Grace, Metatron. You're mortal now. So, you will answer our questions or Sam will, what's the phrase?" Cas' voice deepens angrily. "Blow your fucking brains out. It's called leverage, Metatron."

"Learn it, live it, love it," Sam smirks. "How do we get rid of the Mark?"

"I don't know," Metatron stutters. Sam aims the gun at his head and the former angel backs away in fear. "I don't know! It's old magic, God-level magic! Or Lucifer level, but you can't ask him, exactly, can you?"

"What about the tablets?"

"No, there's nothing in them about the Mark," he stutters again.

"So, when you said, 'The river ends at the source,' that was--"

"I was just making up shit, trying to buy time till I could screw you over. It worked before."

"He's telling the truth," Cas says. His eyes darken. "Shoot him."

Sam raises his gun without question, dead set on killing Metatron.

"No, no! No!" Metatron panics. "Your Grace! I wasn't lying about that. There's still some left. I'll take you to it."

"It's your call, Cas."

"I have to get my Grace back, Sam," Cas whispers.

Metatron is relieved that he isn't going to die today. Cas shoves him into the back of the car but before Sam can get behind the wheel, Cas stops him. He reaches into his trenchcoat and pulls out two envelopes.

"Listen, Bobby asked me to give you these. One is for you and Dean. The other is for Y/N. Don't give it to her until her soul is returned."

"Okay. Thanks," Sam whispers.

If he gives it to you now, you'll destroy this and you'd be heartbroken if you destroyed something you can't ever get back.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bhsboard]

Looks like the bulletin board’s been busy!

Seems plenty of folks around town had a few things they wanted to say. Some sweet, others tragic, and some? Some real special.

Here's what showed up in gold:

_______________________________

I think you’re cute ;) _______________________________

Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love! _______________________________

The world doesn’t make sense when we’re apart, Bess. I’m never leaving your side again. Pinky swear!

_______________________________

to Mr. Scammahorn— H.A.G.S.

_______________________________

To the one who ruined me,

I told myself that I wouldn’t write this year. That I was done with your wicked glances, and over seeing you rub your happiness in my broken heart like salt in a fresh wound. A wound that you caused. But then I saw you at that damned costume walk…Wearing the same dress you wore when we first laid eyes on each other.

We were so young, stupid. Reckless teenagers with nothing to lose. Remember the time we set the gazebo on fire with nothing but that citronella candle? I don’t think that was even the worst thing we got up to. Do you miss those June nights the same way I do?

I don’t expect you’ll write to me this year, especially after last year’s spat. If you do, I won’t read it. I couldn’t possibly! All those words will be is venom. Spitting lies and falsehoods at me while I’m still in mourning…

But if they aren’t, if you feel the summer of love stirring within you as I do…meet me at the Mill tonight. And if you wear that dress, all bets are off.

Tragically yours (until the next petals rain down).

P.S. I saw you took that ring off your finger.

_______________________________

To the one who still knows how to haunt me,

I wasn’t going to reply. Truly, I wasn’t. I read your letter three times by candlelight and twice more in the dead hush before dawn, and every time I felt I was pressing my fingers into an old bruise, one I’d forgotten I still carried.

You say I ruined you. Perhaps I did! But we both know ruin doesn’t happen alone, and we were just two sparks dancing far too close to the powder keg, and when it blew, it wasn’t just one of us who got scorched.

Yes, I wore the dress. I did! And maybe I almost didn’t, but something in me knew you’d be watching. I could feel the weight of your gaze before I even stepped outside. Call it vanity, or cruelty, or maybe the last dregs of that recklessness we once drank like wine. June always did make us stupid.

I miss all of those nights. Of course, of course I miss all those damn nights wrapped in each other's skin and buried in our bones. I miss your laugh through the trees, the way you used to trace promises into my skin as though you meant to keep them. I miss who we were; before the fire, before the fights, before we turned love into survival.

I never wanted to hurt you, not really. But I’m tired of being the villain in your story, when we both held the pen. Even with all the bitterness between us, your words stirred something I thought long buried.

So I’ll come to the Mill tonight. But I won’t wear the dress, no. If you want to see me, really see me, not the ghost of that girl in tulle and trouble, then meet me as I am now. No more costumes. No more hiding behind June.

I took off the ring. But I kept the lace. Your photo still hides in my closet.

With love that never burned out, just turned to ash, Yours (for one more summer night)

P.S. If you bring another citronella candle, I’m leaving.

_______________________________

Be warned: Bugs Bunny is an excellent dance partner!

_______________________________

As far as brothers go, you’re one of the very best. Thanks for taking such great care of things while I was gone. <3

_______________________________

under the old oak tree or in the briar house or just sprawled out on the rug…. anywhere is fun with you. i’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.

_______________________________

Dog still brings your slipper to the lazy boy. Wish you were here, old man.

_______________________________

Roses are red, violets are blue. Dick Scammahorn is sexy, even when he sends me goo.

_______________________________

To whom it may concern:

If the sky is blue And I am too, what are you? Morning mist, grey smoke.

_______________________________

the guy behind me is picking his nose as I write this.

_______________________________

You know what you did. I will bring up what happened at the Blueberry Pageant of '98.

_______________________________

NOTICE: Someone has replaced the Ring Toss grand prize with a rotisserie chicken. Please return Mr. Fluffles immediately. This is NOT a Golden Message.

_______________________________

I definitely wasn’t picking my nose. so you can ignore that one

_______________________________

I know you well, despondency— please save a dance or two for me wrap me in arms made of soft yarn and pour me out a cup of tea and when I sip I’ll pray it doesn’t burn me in the third degree this poem is doomed, I’m just a loon, this loneliness is misery…

_______________________________

Hey ghost girl— don’t you know by now?

_______________________________

You danced with me behind the Happy Apple. You had marigold petals in your hair, and smelled like cinnamon whiskey. I haven't stopped thinking about you. If you're real and not a spring hallucination, meet me by the springs this Tuesday at dusk.

_______________________________

Mrs. Gertie, please stop telling folks I was "cursed by the first Marigold Queen in '74." I just have eczema.

_______________________________

To the girl in the flower crown:

Fireflies and stars A bright light never fading Twinkle at me again.

_______________________________

Is it so wrong to wish you could look at me the way I look at you? Is it so wrong to want you to want me the way I want you? Is it? Don't tell me.

_______________________________

will that smoking hot bee please meet up with me after the festival

_______________________________

If you win Marigold Queen, I will be PERSONALLY investigating the votes. No one claps for you! A baby cried when you walked by! Let's all be honest with ourselves!

_______________________________

When we’re apart, all I want is to see you again. Let’s go to the woods again soon.

_______________________________

#NotMyMarigoldQueen

_______________________________

If you're trying to court me, I make a mean tomato pie.

_______________________________

Oh, how I wish there was but a way we could rendezvous before Father's summons on the Eve of my betrothal! The Golden Apple only rots in the shine of your everlasting love, but nonetheless, it is a prize you must conquer to win my fair hand. Oh, my beloved, wherever you see my words, know that each has been kissed by lips that yearn for your smile. Dream of me, for I am of you. --Darling

_______________________________

Hiro Uehara, count your days…

_______________________________

Your laugh was warmer than the campfire that night. I’m looking forward to the next trip.

_______________________________

[aaron-petti]

Step One:

On a piece of paper, write down 15 ways to use this precarious little device. Is it a finger workout device? A zit popper? A comb for nearly bald people? You tell me.

Clothes pin

Knot Undoer

Crevice cleaner

Thread cutter

Earring

Nose ring

Body Piercer

Drawstring fixer

Balloon popper

Picture hanger

Pumpkin carver

Bag fastener

Pant Keeper-upper

Jar/Juice punction device

Meat tenderizer

Got 15 written down? Good.

Write down 15 more ways to use it.

Candle wick picker-upper

Cushion lint remover

Toe Separator

Bracelet maker

Beed sorter

Pant cuff holder

Pillow decoration

Zipper upper

Garlic remover

Christmas tree decoration

Outlet electricity checker (Do Not Try)

Tie clip

Mouth sealer

Art stencil

Mini Fencing Foil

What's that? You have 30 unique ways to use this wonderful piece of twisted metal? Awesome.

Step Two:

Narrow down your list to the 10 best uses for this thing (which is still definitely not a safety pin). Then narrow to the best 5.

Knot Undoer

Earring

Drawstring fixer

Pumpkin Carver

Meat Tenderizer

Crevice cleaner

Art Stencil

Cushion lint remover

Mouth sealer

Candle wick picker upper

Now hand your list to a friend and tell them to pick one. Don't give them your opinion. Don't influence their choice. Whatever they choose, you're moving forward with.

Art Stencil

Step Three:

It's time to tell the world about this revolutionary new device!

- Start by giving it a name. Write down 30 names, then narrow to 10, 5, then 1.

Twisted Metal Stencil

Curled stencil

Little metal tracer

Squiggly Stencil

Safety First Stencil

Stencil in Disguise

Colour by metal

Modern Art Device

Use Me for Art

Oval-ish stencil

Stencil Link

Sharp Craft

Pinpoint Creations

Art Pin

Pointy Art

Little Prick!

Stitch Stencil

Oh Pin!

Mr. Sketchy

Loopy!

Squiggle Loom

Pin Tracer

Pinchy Art

Looper

Sharp Styles

Simple Stencil

The Obviously Sharp Stencil

Poker Design

Prick and Draw

Prickly Pin

WINNER: Twisted Metal Stencil

- Write 2-3 paragraphs about why I should buy your device. What can it do for me? How will my life benefit from it?

Firstly, how can’t it benefit you?  Everyone in the world would benefit from having the one and only Twisted Metal Stencil!  This may be the item that gets you hooked to art again. It’s simple yet complex design is truly one of a kind! Sit back and imagine it now! You walk into your next Thursday night art club.  Old Martha and Randall think they have the best and most unique art supplies.  They aren’t modest about either.  Then, YOU walk in and survey the landscape.  You nestle up next to Old Martha and start unloading your gear. The whole time she is bragging about the new Cyan thread she just bough for 90% off at Michaels when all of a sudden everyone Gasps! Even Old Martha and Randall seem frozen in time.  Little Lucy spotted it!  At the top of your bag, glistening in the dimly lit fluorescent light is your brand new showstopper, TWISTED METAL STENCIL.  The rest is history and no one heard from Old Martha or Randall again.  Rumour has it they joined the other art group across town on Tuesday nights.

- Revise, revise, revise. DONE - Now, with your paragraphs in mind, create a one sentence headline that captures the idea. You know the drill. Write 30, narrow down to 1.

WINNER: It’s new, it’s unique, it’s the talk of all your local art groups. It’s TWISTED METAL STENCIL!

Step Four:

Lay it out!

[theshamsandherzahraat]

(untitled frank castle ff) II

word count: ~1.7k

warnings: still nothing i guess???!?

part I

note: i have no idea how long i can stick to the reader insertion structure of this piece of fiction but for now i can only try my best and write from a perspective i am more comfortable with despite the effort of staying neutral. the point is: i can’t just simply create the experience out of thin air; i have to have some sort of relation to it visa vi the following (three) characteristics you will stumble upon in the course of this chapter. nevertheless, i hope you will enjoy reading it. at this point i don’t even know how long this whole story is going to be. y’all. this could be like my next jam for the break alongside watching mob city. (yes, another fellow hole for mr. bernthal here. bye.)

(p/s: oh, and that john mulaney reference...i don’t know, man. as i was trying to relocate my story in the timeline of the series that came out in 2017, i remembered his netflix specials and some of his genius jokes from back then. take away whatever you want from that reference, i sincerely don’t care.)

@bunnywritesmarvel – i will always appreciate your occasional visit to my humble fort of writing <3

–

“Man, I love New York!” Your enthusiasm was echoing into the night. “Fastest delivery ever!” Wondering about what else could make this occasion more enjoyable, aside from the freshly baked apple pie, you were scanning your surroundings for some scented candles.

“And not just for food!” You heard Amy remark whilst she was getting the door.

“…?” A puzzled look on your face as you turned your head around.

“I honestly don't know why I said that. Sorry...” She sheepishly grinned in an attempt to threw you off with the arrived box in her hands.

“You sure?”

“Yes, ma'am...”

“Oh, c'mon, girl,” you tried to land a pillow on her face and ruin some of her effortlessly perfect locks falling down her shoulders “I'm still in my twenties, okay?! I am a bit of an old soul here, I know, but you don't have to do me like that.”

“Frank calls you ma'am as well.” She said as she dodged your pathetic throw with a chuckle.

“Exactly! Frank does!” you pointed a finger at her to emphasize your point “'Cuz I approve of his respect...And also because I like to call him sir…But that's not- ANYWAYS!” your patience was reaching its limit by now which wasn't optimal in terms of initiating a process that basically required all the patience you could possibly internalize. “Go get us some forks, Rapunzel.”

“You were maaaade for each other...” Another remark you didn't know how to digest. Made for each other? You and Frank? How?

“Nah, what do you know...” You mumbled in helpless frustration. Apparently you were heard.

“NOTHING!...” The young girl was shouting across the apartment, soon rejoining you on the couch. “Which is why I am all ears now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Before you could focus on Amy's fully charged presence, you snapped your fingers whilst pointing at the candles you spot under a top shelf of the lowboard furniture next to the wall. Pleading internally, you were hoping for a good scent. Come on, Madani… Lavender – Yes!

“So, tell me. He was going by the name Pete way back then?” She inquired as the small flame of the lighter in her hand met with the black wick.

“Indeed, he was.” You held out your hand in a gesture to take the candle, so you could place it in a desirable position on the coffee table, right between your hot cups of tea. “Though I must say there was definitely a Pete in him that peaked through every now and then for a chance at having a peaceful life. But as you already witnessed, that never played out well for him...” You started to slightly fork the slice of apple pie on your plate seated right across your tugged in left leg. Checking for the gooeyness – you simply couldn't pass by that.

“When did you first see him?” Amy was solely fixated on you and didn't seem to care much about the delightful dessert, having barely touched anything except her own sleeves. It was obviously going to take some time for her to feel somewhat at ease and relax in the lame coziness. Nevertheless, she was already immersed in the story you were about to tell.

“It was around mid-term season, where I adequately felt settled as a literature graduate from overseas. I had like this assignment due and I found the greatest spot in the city which was an old diner, you know – ‘authentic American experience’ and stuff. Pffh...”

“Oh. My. God...I just realize that I don't even know anything about you to begin with understanding your relationship with Frank. YOU STUDY LITERATURE AND YOU'RE NOT FROM HERE?!???” The exhilarating shock was plastered all over her face which was partly illuminated by a hue of yellow. Right. How could that have become any content for conversation between fired bullets, blood, some more fired bullets, and some more blood? No way at all.

“Yupp. Pretty much everything you need to know to understand the rest so I won't go down that rabbit hole, alright? Also, I don't know anything real about you either, so no further questions.”

“Uhrrrm...Okay??”

“So. I was spending hours at that diner and the staff grew a liking towards my presence. Really lovely folks. After a few days I started looking for inspiration in my surroundings at that time – customers, overheard conversations, food, nothing out of the ordinary, just life basically. That's when I first noticed Pete. He wasn't a real regular but you don't forget that face once you've locked your 'literary' energy on it, if you know what I mean…However that was just it. If I wouldn't have known better, I'd have labeled him as a strange hipster hunk and moved on.”

“Hipster?” Amy looked a little bit thrown off track due to a lack of imagination as you supposed.

“Yeah...At least that's what everybody else called him. For me,” you paused and tried to think of a more eloquent way to continue your narrative train “that beard wasn't a sign of groomed trendiness. That was a real man who went through some real shit and the beard was a simple byproduct of that because…” By now you were staring holes into the air and feeling an emptiness sweep over you with a little ache. “It was the eyes that exposed him, really. And he was avoiding meeting other eyes at all cost. A barricaded man, desperate for light to be shed on him.”

“Enter you!”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“No, not really… At least I didn't seek it. It just sort of happened.” Taking your first bite, you couldn't help but desperately wish for that void to be magically filled by it.

“Come on! That's what they all say!” She didn't seem to be convinced and shot you a doubtful stare, most likely having troubles with trusting you.

“Believe me or not, I don't think I would have had anything to do with him if it wasn't for the couple of dickheads who were at the diner that day.”

“Dang. Always a couple of dickheads… I wonder if Frank's a magnet for that kind of breed.”

With a gay sigh you simply said “We shall never wonder…” And Amy was noticeably agreeing with a knowing smile.

“Right. So, you two are at the diner and a bunch of assholes start harassing you?”

“Not exactly.” You were chewing on your next forkful of pie and covered your mouth with a hand. “They turned into assholes the moment I kindly told them that I had to concentrate on my work.”

“Oooooh, you had a normal conversation and then they decided to make everyone's day miserable?”

“Sort of. It was around six or seven in the evening. I got there around early sunset and Pete half an hour later I guess. And when those guys came along I was right in the middle of taking a break. I had my refill of coffee and some salted cookies from back home. My sketchbook was out on the table as I watched a few of John Mulaney's stand-up clips on YouTube. All nice and chill, right.” You were briefly checking for confirmation in her voiceless expressions. “I didn't even notice their sitting in the booth between mine and Pete's. Sometime later they asked if I was one of the exchange students. I guess the sticker on my laptop gave me away or whatever. We had a pretty nice talk, I was lowkey psyched that I got to meet new people outside of classes that weren't necessarily serving me an unhealthy intake of caffeine. But as soon as I made it clear that I was looking for nothing other than lighthearted human connection, they got pissed. Like completely offended. Couple of minutes later, well, ... Yeah, I was about to break that one dude's fucking fingers but I met Frank's amusingly disturbed gaze and decided to return to my assignment.” That last bit came off a little too nonchalant than you intended it to be. The last thing you wanted Amy to take away from this is your being pretentious.

“More like disturbingly amused.” Though she seemed to focus on something else, looking past you into the distance, while she grabbed her warm mug from the table.

“Possible.” You noted, not knowing how exactly to interpret her current exposure.

“And afterwards they just let you be?”

“Pretty much, yeah… I don't know. Maybe they saw Frank glaring at them or something.” You decided to take a sip of your tea as well. “But I could only make out a faint smile and raised eyebrows when I looked over at him a second time.” You faintly giggled into your mug in reminiscence.

“And?! Did you two get to talk then?” You felt Amy's hand on your right leg and endured the unwittingly inflicted pain of the contact by weaving in a whimper to your next words.

“Eventually, yes, we did. But not until past midnight.”

“No way you were working THAT long on a stupid assignment...” Her exclamation of secondhand distress slightly rubbed you the wrong way.

“It wasn't a stupid assignment and, no, I wasn't working THAT long…” Now you wanted to throw her off course again and chose your following sentence carefully (or not so carefully). “I was laying on his bed when we first talked.”

“What the fuck… Are you serious?… Like – you guys hit it right off? No words exchanged whatsoever?!??”

“Man, the power I now hold…” Your jaunty savagery was unhinged at this point. “I could totally leave you on a cliffhanger there. HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!!!!” A little goofiness wouldn't hurt anyone after a couple of rough days and gloomy nights.

“SHUT UP! Urrrgh…” She was laughing almost angrily  – however that sounds – and you felt relieved that she took her hand off your stretched leg a minute ago. “No! Don't shut up! Keep telling! I just… I can't picture it…”

“WELL!” You sipped a little more from your tea before concluding your teasing behavior with “I definitely don't want you picturing stuff that didn't really happen…”

“… Yes?” All you wanted to do was to hug her in that moment of silence and preserve the lightheartedness as long and eagerly as possible.

*

“Don't worry, sweetheart, those bastards won't bother you again.”

“…”

“These are for you. Dry and warm. I'll be right outside, okay?”

“… Okay.”

“Good…”

“Wait… Thanks, …?”

“Urrh, Pete. And nah, you're all good.”

“Thank you, Pete.”

“… You're welcome.”

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

[wishingupontheskyandstars]

Our Secret This Holiday ❄️ Chp. 8

Fic Summary: As the Holidays approach, Arya and Gendry are a new couple spending a lot of time together before they reveal to everyone else that they are dating and what better day to reveal that than on Christmas…

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | AO3 Link Here | Rated M | Inspired Christmas Prompts Link

Chapter 8: Shopping List

It was not yet morning, but Arya could still see snow falling. She stared through her window, feet away. The moonlight was the only light that lingered in her room. She turned around in bed, making sure the blanket covered her naked breasts as her eyes fell on Gendry. He laid on his back with his eyes closed; the blanket was just above his hips.

Arya licked her bottom lip as she gently traced his taut skin with her blunt fingertips. She traced her fingers to his neck, then his left shoulder.

"That felt good," Gendry said in a groggy but deep voice. He opened his eyes and met her stare. "Is it morning yet?"

Arya shook her head, then leaned towards him and kissed him. "I don't want you to go," she mumbled against his lips, feeling his breath on hers. She lifted her left leg and wrapped it around his, making her sit on his thigh.

"Arya, I should go," Gendry whispered.

She shook her head as she gently moved against his thigh, instantly feeling the start of—"Oh..." she moaned as Gendry kissed her, as he brought them both in a sitting position. Arya's hand landed on his cock. She pushed it to be inside her as he gulped.

Arya positioned herself, moved forward, and licked his bottom lip, seeking entrance. Once her tongue touched his, their hips moved together in a fast rhythm, both seeking release.

Gendry kept moving with Arya as he stopped kissing her and lifted a lock of hair from her face, to behind her ear. She grinned as she held on to him while moving with him. "A few more minutes it is," he said before kissing her again.

Sansa drank a tall glass of water in the kitchen downstairs, feeling like she went on one of her runs and not just having three rounds of the most intense orgasms. She put the glass down, wiping any water from her lips, feeling refreshed. She straightened Theon's oversized shirt and made sure it went over her butt.

She opened the fridge and spotted the whipped cream she was looking for. She half-grinned, knowing precisely what she was going to do with it. She stepped back, closing the door until something caught her eye. On the top shelf was a plate of leftover lemon cakes. She smirked, grabbing the plate, and closed the door with her right hip.

With whip cream and lemon cakes in her hands, she started to walk upstairs. If she had not been careful to be quiet, she would not have heard the noise of a door close. Feeling curious, she walked up the stairs faster, and before she reached the landing, she heard the sound of a door closing again as if trying not to make any noise at all. She looked down the hall, one side then the other, and saw no one. She shook her head as she walked to her room, where her boyfriend awaited her.

Hours later, in the dining room, Arya sat across from Jon, both eating breakfast. Jon looked at his younger cousin before drinking a sip of his coffee.

Arya could feel Jon's stare. She ate a link of sausage before her eyes met his. "What is it?" she asked.

"What?"

"I know you're looking at me, and I want to know why." She raised a brow at him.

Jon sighed and pushed his plate away as he crossed his arms. "Why didn't you tell us you were dating?"

Arya's eyes enlarged. "Excuse me?"

"Ygritte and I saw you in front of that Christmas tree in town."

Arya looked down at her plate of food. "You spying on me?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "We stepped out of a shop and saw you two kissing."

"So, I'm not allowed to kiss anyone, am I?"

"Of course you are—I would like to meet the boy that's finally captured your heart. Does he live locally?"

Arya was relieved and thankful to the gods that he didn't see Gendry that night. "Not really," she said finally.

"Well, I would like to—"

"Morning!" Gendry said as he walked into the room, oblivious to what the Stark cousins were talking about.

Jon smiled. "Hey—sleep well?"

"Umm...yes—very good."

Arya bit her lip from grinning as Gendry sat next to Jon and filled his plate with fruit, potatoes, bacon, and eggs.

"It can get cold up here, sometimes unbearable. Hopefully, you had the heater on in your room," Jon said.

Gendry didn't dare look at Arya as he smiled uncomfortably. "Uhh—Yes, heater—on—Mmm." He nodded and poured orange juice in his glass before drinking half of it.

"I don't go to sleep until I know that heater is on," Arya said matter-of-factly, giving Gendry a wink as Jon looked away from them to take another sip of his coffee.

Jon put down his cup and looked over at Gendry and was going to ask him another question when he was blind-sighted by the brown leather jacket he was wearing—like the one he saw the previous evening on the guy that was kissing Arya. His eyes enlarged in realization as he looked at Arya then Gendry, who were both eating, but she caught Arya looking at Gendry. "You!" Was all he said.

Arya wrinkled her nose. "What?"

Jon then turned to Gendry. "And you!" He pointed at him. "It was you I saw with Arya last night—"

"Jon!" Arya exclaimed. She looked worried as she dropped her fork and knife. The sound of cutlery clattering on the plate was the only noise heard.

Gendry swallowed the strawberry he was eating, and he just felt cold, looking at Jon's protective facial expression. He sighed and said, "Yes, we're together."

"Gendry!" Arya crossed her arms in annoyance.

At that second, Catelyn walked into the room, carrying a piece of paper. She nodded towards Gendry and Jon before placing the paper on the table.

Jon whispered to Gendry in an almost angry tone, "I want to talk to you after breakfast, alone."

Gendry only nodded in response then looked at his plate.

Arya, not wanting her mother to ask what just happened, said, "Morning, mother," looking at the paper suspiciously but knowing what it was.

"Good morning, Arya. Here is a list of things to buy today. I recommend going as soon as you finished with breakfast. No doubt the mall will be filled with people by noon."

Arya nodded, looking at the list, front and back. Catelyn then placed a credit card on the table. "Bring back the receipts," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

Arya nodded. "Of course."

Catelyn turned to Gendry. "Thank you again, Gendry, for driving with Arya up here."

"No problem, Mrs. Stark. It was a pleasure." He smiled then almost grimaced at what he just said. "Arya and I caught up on a lot of things driving up here."

"We did," Arya said with an almost smile. Gendry coughed and drank more of his juice.

Jon looked away, eating more food from his plate.

Oblivious to their interaction, Catelyn smiled. "Good, well I—"

"I'm going to need help with the bags and running around," Arya started. She shrugged and asked Gendry, "Do you mind coming with me?" She bit her lip as if in anticipation. "Sorry for asking, but—"

"Yeah—okay." Gendry nodded.

Catelyn smiled, grateful for his help. "Wonderful, you can take Ned's truck. It's big enough to fit everything from the list."

"Super," Arya said, grinning at Gendry. Jon looked at Arya, looking at Gendry. He furrowed his brows, then shook his head as he finished his cup of coffee.

"Gah! How are we supposed to find everything with so many stores—We're lost! I hate shopping!" Arya said with frustration looking at all the stores around them.

Gendry sighed. "Me too." He looked at all the people walking around to the different stores and food court. He shivered as he tried to keep warm with his brown leather jacket. "And it's freezing in here!" He scowled.

Arya chuckled. "You're always cold up here." She leaned into him and looked up at his beautiful face. "I'm here to keep you warm." She kissed his lips softly.

Gendry leaned into the kiss, feeling warm already.

"Did that work?"

"Mmm."

Arya sighed, dreading what she knew she had to ask. "Okay, what did he say to you? He couldn't even look at me—the jerk."

He sighed. "He wanted to know when our relationship started and if it was serious and not a fling."

"So, what if we were? We're grown-ass adults." Arya rolled her eyes. "What did you say?"

"I told the truth, we're in love, and we plan to tell your parents and family Christmas day."

Arya grinned. "Did he say anything else?"

He shrugged. "He was surprised, but you know Jon, he can't stay mad for too long. He only said if I did anything to cause you to hurt, he would umm kill me."

"Ah, so the usual then."

"Yup."

Arya chuckled. "Well, there's someone else that knows." She leaned against Gendry and read the list her mother gave her. "Let's see...for Sansa...Scented candles..." Arya gives a wide smile. "Hmm, instead of vanilla, lavender, and rose...we'll get bubblegum, licorice, and pumpkin—she hates licorice."

"You're wicked."

"Ha—and for Jon and Ygritte, she will get her ugg slippers, but for Jon, all they had were croc sandals."

Gendry shook his head as he started to walk with Arya still leaning on him. "Come on, you Grinch," he said playfully.

"Bran—warm sweaters—or in the deal section, we'll find summer clothes like caps, shorts, and tank tops." She laughed. "Okay, this shopping might be better than I thought."

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@waxgentleman asked: ⭐️ :D For each “⭐️” I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses. (Still Accepting!)

While Ikkaku certainly gives Mr. 3 a hard time, especially regarding his workaholic tendencies and willingness to drop everything for people who don't deserve him (*cough* Buggy *cough*) it's genuinely because she cares about him, even if she didn't realize it herself at first. She genuinely enjoys seeing Mr. 3 happy and fulfilled in his job (whether working for Mihawk or keeping Cross Guild running behind the scenes). At this point, she teases Mr. 3 partially because she feels it's what they're both most comfortable with than her being completely nice and sweet in their interactions. She doubts he'd believe she was being genuine if she acted too nice to him (and, honestly, he'd be right).

Therefore, most of her kind acts are either subtle or something that could be justified as selfishness. For example, demanding he deliver some blueprints to Franky or a letter to Zoro, when it's really an excuse for him to get out of the castle and see Brook. She recognizes a fellow workaholic and knows that sometimes, it's vital to give a little push and trick him into actually taking a break.

[ask-de-writer]

THE HOUSE, (part 3 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

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THE HOUSE

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

© 2017

Written 1990

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music, or any other thing is actively encouraged!

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I was still curious about the rest of the file in the town library, so I decided to take a break and go into town. As I stepped out the front door, I felt the wind. The trees along the road were still, yet I was buffeted from all sides at once by a wind that did not swirl but pressed my clothes tight to me from all sides at once. I felt more like I was being held comfortably than pushed like a wind usually would. It was warm, where the day and been chill. When I got into the car I left the door open to see what would happen. The wind closed it. This time there was a perceptible pause before the glove box opened.

When it did, a rush of wind gusted out and raced about inside the car. Once again, there were five of the odd gold coins within it. As before, I thanked whatever Power had put them there. Though brisk, the day seemed clear enough to risk the walk into town after all, so I got out of the car strolled down the road to town. Having everything that I needed within walking distance was one of the reasons that I liked the small town of Flocking Bay so much.

The Flocking Bay Bank of Maine was my next stop. I had some difficulty getting them to accept the coins for credit to my account. They insisted on a slate test by a local jeweler to ascertain the purity of the coins. They were twenty four carat. Then they wanted to take the coins at current spot price less ten percent, which was fine with me. They also wanted to count the coins at three to the troy ounce, as Hiram Wickes had counted them in the 1850’s and 60’s, which was not. I insisted that the same jeweler weigh the nine coins that I was depositing. With gold at nearly four hundred dollars to the ounce, the six tenths of an ounce per coin seemed worth the effort. The business was finally done to the satisfaction of all.

My steps now lead me down aged, tree lined streets to the library. Mrs. Alderman had set out the file in readiness for me. I added the tenth coin and a notarized account of its origin and the number of coins to date.

“You have been so helpful, she said brightly, “setting things in order the way you have. Do you know, I’ve been studying some, after hours. I hope that you will have a great book.”

“Mrs. Alderman,” I said in a confidential tone, “I’ve allowed you to deceive yourself. See, I too, put something in your file. I’m not a writer. I’m John Peaslee. I live in the old Wickes place, and I wanted to find out about its history.

My uncle, Gordon Wetherbee, is a scholar at Miskatonic University and he may indeed wish to publish a book or monograph on the subject of my house.”

She looked like a person seeing a ghost. In a faint voice, she replied, “Oh, my! I had hoped it was not you. You were such a nice young man, too.”

Noticing the past tense, I chided gently, “I still am, Mrs. Alderman. I live yet and I have not changed from the person that you first met. The nice young man who set your file in order is not dead.”

“Yet,” she said firmly. “Nobody as lives in that house does so for long. None has ever escaped it.”

“Yet,” I completed with a smile, and crossed the room to the battered pine table by the old mullioned window.

I had put the botanical report off until last, not knowing anything about plants. The report described in dry detail what were called “some of the most unusual genetic monsters that I have ever seen.” The report was issued by Miskatonic University. It described roses that were nothing of the sort. The “rose” plants were carnivorous. There were low pansy and violet-like plants that were some strange form of thallophyte. The mycelium of these fungi was linked in some fashion to the roots of the “roses.” Both forms died instantly upon being plucked and began rotting with almost supernatural speed. No pressings were possible due to the rapidity of decomposition, so only photos and rapidly drawn pictures of what was seen by microscope were included. The grass was as unusual as the “pansies” and “roses.” The leaves all rose from rhizomes, which spread from a central node, like some ferns. This “grass” was no fern, however. None of the plants could be cultivated away from the Wickes house. “The plants fit no known classification and must be regarded as unique to science,” the report concluded.

That evening the wind came again, and blew at my back all the way to the house, like a great friendly beast hurrying its master home. I had forgotten to buy batteries for my flashlight, but I did not turn back.

I resumed my search of the library. The evening passed uneventfully, I did not finish with the library that night. I was feeling restless.

So were the rats of the spectral brigade. I could hear a few upstairs but most were in the basement. Taking a candlestick, I worked the hidden spring of the concealed door to the basement. I could hear the rats below.

The stair was longer than I remembered it. The basement was larger than I recalled it being. The corners were dim in the candlelight. The spectral brigade was upstairs, of course. Still no dust or spider webs. I nearly dropped the candle in shock when I saw it. There was a table in the corner. I knew that the basement had been empty. Bare stone.

My curiosity led me cautiously to the table. It had on it a candlestick with a burned-out stub of candle, a box of papers, and six largish portfolios of leather, each labeled with the name of a continent. They also were filled with papers. A cursory examination revealed that I had found Hiram’s correspondence. There was a lot of it. It was clear that he had the habit of making copies of his missives and attaching the replies to the letters for easy reference. He may have been messy but his mind had been well organized. Taking the folder marked Australia because it was the smallest, I went back up the stairs. I placed the folio on the desk in the study to read by tomorrow̓s daylight. In checking my calendar, I noticed that tomorrow was the day of the new moon.

Bed was welcome, after the tension and labors of the day, but not a relief. My night passed in troubled dreams. It was a place of incomprehensible, invisible obstacles and wind. The wind blew at me from all directions at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. Resisting the wind caused it to go away. It came back with gold for me. As I refused the gold, my frustration mounted. It was not what I wanted. My tears spilt forth in a flood. I wanted something else - and I could not remember what.

The morning light awakened me on sweat-drenched sheets. Slowly, as dreams will, the terrors faded. I got up and began my day.

As I had begun to expect, the books did not materialize. None of the books in the library was a rebound Necronomicon or Black Book. I reshelved the last book with a sigh. The precious books appeared have eluded me.

I turned my attention to the Australia folder. Its pages yielding information for the first time in about a hundred and twenty years. Apparently, Hiram had a number of correspondents in Australia. His questions ranged from searches for rumored ‘houses of stone’ in the outback to tracing the aboriginal folk carvings and paintings and asking about the most secret rituals and ceremonies of the aboriginal Australians. His questions, piercing and analytical, illuminated every subject with stark clarity, like flashes of lightning. He had known exactly what he was looking for and was not at all afraid of finding it.

Now, with the day beginning to close, there came a knock at my door. Opening the door revealed a postman with a bulky Next Day Letter envelope. Signing for it, I noticed that it was from Miskatonic University. Uncle Gordon had responded almost the instant that he had received my letter, and by the fastest possible post. Impressed, I opened the flap of the letter. A single sheet was all that the large envelope held. Uncle Gordon̓s hasty scrawl read:

Dear John:

It is with simple horror that I have read that you have purchased the house of Hiram Wickes. Delay not an instant! Get out of that house! Leave before the new moon! I pray that this reaches you in time!

Come to me in Arkham! There, I will tell you all that I know of this matter. I hope that you are still alive and well and will come to hear my reasons for so urgent a request.

You are involved with Powers beyond imagination. Things there are that are worse than even what is in the Necronomicon. Hastur, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, is involved, and Cuthulu, as well, whose coin you sent a tracing of.

This must sound mad to you. A very hodgepodge of fear. And it is. Fear for you. Come to me at once! Upon your life it is necessary!

In regard and fear for your life,

I remain,

Gordon Wetherbee

It was remarkable. I had never seen evidence of such agitation from uncle Gordon before. This, along with all that I had learned, made up my mind. I would take his advice. Packing my few clothes took almost no time. Seeing the Australia folder, I realized how important Hiram’s letters could be to uncle Gordon. I placed it with my bag, by the front door.

I raced to the library, took up a candlestick and plunged down the long flight of stairs to that huge gloomy vault of a basement. As I gathered the box and folders into my arms, I saw them at last! Among others, the Necronomicon and Black Book had been hidden behind the letter portfolios. Putting down the letters in the face of a far greater treasure, I examined the precious books. There was what had to be the only complete 1784 edition of the Necronomicon. Priceless. Also, there was the almost as rare 1635 edition of the Black Book. There was an apparently genuine medieval Latin Philippus Faber. Last was a hand-bound copy of a manuscript, written on a fine supple parchment of a type that I could not identify, labeled in Hiram’s now familiar script, Pnakotic Manuscripts, subtitled, “Being a Collection of Ante-human Lore.” The writing in this last volume was of a sort that I had never seen before. It was disturbing just to look at. The very notion of actually reading it made me shudder.

Knowing that I should not tarry, I placed the books with my other burdens and gathered them up. There was a sudden rushing of wind from all sides at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. The candle in my hand burned bright and unwavering, despite the wind. It did not blow out.

In a blind panic, I ran up the long, crumbling, dusty, spider-bedecked stair. I found myself back in the basement. I no longer had my load of letters and books. Two more attempts to go up the stairs left me still in the vast, dusty crypt of a basement… Raising the candle high, I looked intently up the stair, trying to see why I could not get to the top. After a few minutes, or perhaps hours, I got my eyes to work properly and the nausea stopped. The stairs offered no escape.

In searching for a way out of this vast stone lined vault of a basement, I found all of the fifty nine other people who had vanished. They are all dead. They have dried to sere brown mummies. Many still show signs of bleeding from eyes, nose or ears, as if their brains had burst within their skulls. It seems that transport to wherever this is, killed the others outright. Some were in bed, others at table, some at other tasks. Each family or person seems to have their own area. The next group is in a different spot. It helps me to sort them out. All of my goods are by the stair.

Examining the bodies so closely may seem to be a ghoulish exercise but it gives me something to do.

I do not need the candle. There is a pale sourceless illumination everywhere. Dust is thick on the floor and everything else. Cobwebs shroud everything.

There, in the corner lies what was Hiram Wickes. The notes and papers with him tell the story. Unable to stand his own mess, he had the house cleaned attic to basement. The yard was manicured to perfection. He then made the simple blunder that has cost so many lives and so much misery.

He bound Hastur of the Winds, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, to keep his house and grounds exactly as it was on that day in 1866. Every new moon, everything that does not fit goes to the basement but that too gets cleaned. Hastur has no choice but to sweep the excess to someplace else…

I am lucky. I have the opportunity to starve. I was in the basement when the cleaning came. I was pushed through a distance too short to kill. The unvarying light seems to erase time, except that I am getting hungry.

Uncle Gordon has solved many occult mysteries and seems to know something of this one. I know that he will come soon. I wonder if he can do anything.

I found a pen among my things and paper from the possessions of the many dead. I have determined to make this account.

I leave my curse on Flocking Bay Realty. They knew that this would happen. They have sold the house many times, without warning. They have been battening on this evil since 1908.

I have found the rats. They are everywhere here. They do not touch the bodies or Hiram’s books and papers. They are disgusting. If I get hungry enough, I shall eat them.

-THE END-

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

[feferipeixes]

Jay’s Brother (3/?)

Jay has been working in the cobalt mines her entire life. Against all odds, she’s still alive when so many others have fallen. It’s been decades since she’s had anyone she could call family. And then, out of nowhere, a demon shows up and says he’s her brother.

Naturally, she’s upset.

Chapter 3: Hope Against Hope (link to chapter 1) (2)

Shout out to my awesome beta reader, @toothpastecanyon!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

Chunk.

The girl slammed her axe into the blue rock in front of her. The rock resisted -- gaining an ugly scratch but otherwise surviving unharmed. It seemed to sneer at her, seemed to say, “What, having a hard time? Getting too old for this?”

She groaned in response. Dropping her pickaxe, she straightened up, and heard a creak as something shifted in her back. She nearly doubled over again, but caught herself by resting a hand on the cavern wall. She breathed in through her nose and tried to swallow the hacking cough that she felt wriggling its way out of her. Everything was okay. She could do this. She did it every day.

Still… it seemed harder that day than usual. She glanced down at her pickaxe -- an old rusty tool that seemed to be aging before her eyes -- and then peered out at the other workers around her. They all raised their axes in unison -- brought them high above their heads before each clicking a button that shot beams of energy into their respective hunks of cobalt.

“Hey, wait a minute.” She could barely recognize her voice when it came out. It sounded about as bad as her pickaxe looked. “What’s the big setup? Why do you all have quantum axes and I’ve got this piece of junk?”

Every worker turned to look at her. “Because you’re obsolete, Miss Du,” they said together, their collective voice echoing through the cave like it was a scream in her ear.

“And junk like you doesn’t deserve more than junk in turn,” came a voice from behind her.

The girl tried to gasp, but what came out instead was an awful, spluttering cough. She whipped around to find her shift manager looming over her, staring down with a wicked grin.

“Tick-tock,” he purred, pulling up a clock display on the wall panel and thrumming his fingers against it. “You’re slowing down. If you don’t increase your output we’ll have no choice but to -”

Knock knock knock.

Her manager’s mouth was still moving, but no sound was coming out. Instead, there was a steady knocking coming from behind her. Confused, she glanced back to see a door standing freely in the middle of the room. She could see it rattle in time with the knocking, and there was a soft, white glow pouring in from the edges of the frame.

The girl stepped toward it. Her manager tried to stop her -- jumped in her path with fire in his eyes and snakes pouring out of his mouth -- but she ignored him. He wasn’t a threat anymore. All she could hear was the knocking.

She brushed her fingers along the access pad, and it slid open. A brilliant, blinding light stood on the other side. He was much brighter than Prima, but she had no trouble looking at him.

He stepped across the doorframe and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get out of here.”

She went to grab his hand, but hesitated. “I don’t know. Why should I trust you?”

His smile flickered, plunging her momentarily back into darkness. “What?”

“I don’t know you.” She sensed her manager reaching over her shoulder with a slimy tentacle, and she slapped it away. “But I know this. I know how to survive this.”

“But... this is awful. Why would you want to stay here? What happened to your dreams of exploring the cosmos?”

The girl looked up and saw the night sky projected onto the cave ceiling, semi-transparent like a hologram. It was beautiful, but it made her feel emptier than ever.

“Could I really do it? Could you actually take me there?”

“Anywhere,” he breathed. “Anywhere you want.”

She sighed. “I need some time to think about it, alright? Give me some time.”

The star nodded. “Of course. Just… let me know, alright? It’s lonely in here.”

She tried to respond, but her throat fought against her. She shuddered with pain, clutched her stomach, and a rough, stuttering cough heaved its way out of her. She looked up at him, his hand still extended out to her, his smile weak but there nonetheless. Cautiously, she reached up and accepted his invitation.

Quick as a whistle, he pulled her up to her feet. The pain was gone, her breathing once again simple, and she could swear the air around her was sparkling. She stared at her hands, which suddenly felt so strong and capable, and gulped.

“Thanks,” she said.

He only bowed in response. He spun around to leave, filling the room with a brilliant display of colors for a brief moment. Then he vanished, and it was dark again. She was holding a pickaxe again. Her manager was behind her, fury radiating out of his empty eye sockets. The world was her burden once more.

And yet it was so pointless. So insignificant.

Gritting her teeth, she turned around to face her manager. Before he could say a word, she reached out and grabbed his head with both hands. She felt the power pulsing through her, felt the fear radiating off him in her grasp. She smiled, because for once, she was in control.

She smiled, and she squeezed his skull as hard as she could, letting the slime ooze over her fingers and waiting for the moment when it would POP -

---

Jay gasped and opened her eyes.

It was a dream. It was a dream and she was awake now and she definitely hadn’t snapped at work and killed her manager. She let out a sigh of relief. Everything was fine. It was just another one of those weird dreams she’d been having for the past couple of days. No matter how much she hated Kanif and her job, physically attacking him would do her far more harm than good.

Although -- she had to admit that it felt really good to take her frustrations out on Kanif. Maybe the dreams weren’t so bad, as long as she never really acted on them.

As she gradually returned to consciousness, Jay began to realize that she wasn’t in her bed. The pillow she was using was flat and rough. Her glasses were already on, and the room was bright. She wasn’t at home at all -- she was at the library.

She jolted upright. There was a tearing noise -- a page of the book she’d been sleeping and apparently drooling on had stuck to her face. She pulled it off and examined it.

In folklore, a deer is a mythical beast that is believed to appear in times of need to guide lost souls to safety. It is often depicted as tall, furry, hoofed, quadrupedal, and antlered. According to the Encyclopedia of Ancient Creature Lore, a deer is an ordinary pony that has been touched by a divine being and granted immortality.

Jay grimaced. None of that made sense. She picked up the book she’d been resting on and read the cover -- A History of Magical Creatures. Why was she reading… Oh yeah.

It had been three days since she’d met Alcor on the way home from work. Since then, the candles and magic circle he’d left her had remained untouched in the corner of her room as she wracked her brain for reasons to contact him again. There was so much about him that didn’t make sense -- a normal person would’ve dismissed him entirely at this point -- but some part of her was curious. Some part of her wanted to believe him.

One of the things that continued to confuse her was his claim that he was a demon. She’d been combing both the library and the Interweb for any information on what a demon was, and after three days she still had nothing to show for it. She’d woken up early that morning so she could go to the library again before work, but apparently her lack of sleep had caught up with her and…

Jay jumped out of her chair. Work. She checked her phone and -- heck, it was 12th trentile. She was very late for work. Panicking, she dropped the book and darted out of the building. The torn page she’d slept on fluttered slowly to the ground behind her.

It was 12:25 when she made it to the lobby of the mine, hoping against hope that no one had missed her. She already knew her pay would be docked, but if Kanif saw how late she was she'd surely get fired, and she couldn’t let that happen. He'd been mysteriously absent the past couple of days so maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be there -

Her hope vanished quickly when she breached the double doors and saw Kanif staring up at her with a furious look on his face.

“I’msosorryI’mlateKanifsir!” Jay blurted, out of breath from running. “It won’t happen again, I -”

“Rhysti-Du!” Kanif barked, cutting her off. “I thought I made it very clear to you what would happen if you were late again! Tick-tock!”

“Sir, please, I can’t lose this job. I’ll work late again!”

Kanif grinned at her, words starting to form on his lips, and then -- something happened.

Jay’s vision flickered. The air suddenly felt very thick, like they were standing in honey. She refocused her eyes to see Kanif’s smile dead on the ground, replaced with a look of abject horror. He took a step back and hit the wall behind him. Jay could’ve sworn he was trembling. He looked so weak and puny -- kind of like in her dream. Her dream, when her hands had felt so full of power. Her dream -- or was it real life? -- where something inside of her had whispered go… do it… do it now…

Then the moment passed. The pressure in the air was gone, and Jay couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking about a moment ago. But Kanif was still backed into the wall looking as scared as if he’d just seen a monster.

“Mr. Kanif… sir?” she asked nervously. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t respond at first, just looked both ways a few times. “Yes, I’m fine, Jay!” he choked out eventually. His words were studded with nervous laughter and he could barely keep his eyes on her. “Everything is up to code. About being late today -- we can just pretend that didn’t happen, do you hear me? That’d be exemplary! Get along to work now, there’s mining to do.”

“Uhh…” She looked behind her to make sure there wasn’t some other person there named Jay that Kanif might’ve been talking to. “Alright…?”

“Great! Off you go!”

He then scampered out of the room more quickly than she’d ever seen him move. For a few minutes she could only gape at the space where he’d stood. Never in the decade that he’d been her manager had he ever shown her any mercy for lateness or mistakes of any kind. It was baffling.

Something had happened -- she thought to herself as she collected her mining equipment and set off to her post -- something had happened a few days ago and since then her life had gotten weird. She wanted answers, and she was beginning to think there was only one person who had them.

---

There was an electronic chime as Jay pushed open the door to the diner. A cheaply decorated room greeted her on the other side. The atmosphere was sleepy -- most people were eating silently, with the odd couple sitting together in a booth and whispering in each other’s ears. None of this was out of the ordinary.

Jay stepped over to the counter and sat down on a stool. A couple of people sitting nearby glanced at her -- people she’d never met but must have seen countless times before -- but they returned quickly to their food. She looked around for the waitress -- they really needed more than one, but for some reason couldn’t seem to afford another -- before spotting her at the other end of the room, taking someone’s order. She gave her a little wave, and turned to look out the window while she waited.

The world outside was still lit, thanks to Jay getting out of work a trentile earlier than she had the previous day. The view out of the diner’s front window was mostly occluded by the shops on the other side of the street, but there was a small alley between the laundromat and the convenience store through which she could appreciate the setting star. The sky was awash with color -- the greenish-blue of day replaced by a brilliant orange, soon to fade away into the saddest pink.

It was beautiful, the small slice of the sky she could see while waiting to order her food. It was beautiful and it was filled with so many memories of lying in the grass watching the sky, hand-in-hand with Akko or Sunil or Evan. These days, she never really got to watch Prima set. She wondered if maybe she should try waiting a bit before grabbing food after work, so she could spend some time outside just letting the colors swirl around her, just thinking and dreaming and hoping and -

“Jay?”

The sound of snapping fingers brought Jay back to the present. The waitress -- Gnern or Gnert or something -- was staring at her with a weird expression on her face.

Jay grimaced. “What?”

“I said, can I take your order?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She shook her head. “Sorry about that. I’ll have… uh… the usual. Slashnorts with umbrella broccoli. Actually, no, wait. Make that umbrella pipsqueaks instead.”

The waitress nodded and made a complicated gesture at the notepad she was holding, which responded by dinging. Then she cocked her head at Jay. “How are you doing, pip? Holding in there?”

Jay blinked. “Uh. What does that mean?”

“You just looked distracted, is all. I don’t mind it, I mean. They say that’s supposed to happen to old folks, right?”

“I…” Jay paused. “I think I read that once.”

She tilted her head slightly to catch view of herself in the mirror behind the waitress. She studied her wavy grey locks -- once a deep brown, the color had started draining out of them years ago and they were almost white at this point. Her skin was wrinkled where it had once been smooth. She hadn’t needed glasses when she started working in the mines, but at some point everything had started getting blurry, and before she knew it, she was in the convenience store buying a cheap pair of rectangular frames.

She knew that these were things that happened when you got old, but it still felt like she was changing somehow -- like the person she had been was being squeezed from her and soon she’d become something else entirely. It was one thing knowing theoretically that people changed when they got old and it was another to actually become an old person herself. And the idea that her mind could be changing too as a part of it was very stressful.

“Yeah…” she continued. “Maybe all of... this... is because I’m getting old.”

The waitress snorted. “Pip, I’m old, and you’re twice my age. I think you borrowed the kilter on ‘getting’ old a few decades ago.”

Jay frowned. “Yeah, yeah. Are you here to take my order or gawk at me?”

“I wasn’t -” she started, but hesitated at the annoyed expression on Jay’s face. “Your order, I guess. I’ll be right back hun.”

She quickly turned away and walked into the kitchen. Jay winced at how hurt she’d sounded -- she hadn’t meant to come off so brusque but the few days of confusion and frustration must’ve taken a toll on her. She didn’t want to take that out on anyone else. The waitress stepped back into the room a moment later, carrying a couple of plates of food on her arm. She started placing them down in front of other customers sitting at the counter.

Jay cleared her throat. “Hey, Gnern.” The waitress glanced up, looking nonplussed. “I’m sorry I was being rude. I’ve had a long few days, and I might’ve been kind of annoyed because I was trying to research something earlier and was coming up with nothing, blah blah blah.”

The waitress put down the last plate she was carrying and cocked her head at Jay. “Well, pip, my name’s Gnert, not Gnern,” (DARN IT), “but I accept your apology. What’s eating at you?”

Jay stared at her blankly until what she’d said clicked in her brain. “Wait. You’re asking me about my day?”

“Yeah. You’re in here a lot and you don’t really speak up much. What’s eating at you?”

“Uh…” Jay mentally juggled images of all the weird stuff that had been happening to her. There was no way she could even begin to explain most of it. “Well, this’ll sound strange, but… Have you ever heard of a demon?”

“Oh, yeah. Is that all?”

Jay felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. “What? You- how- how do you know? I spent so much time in the library and I found nothing!”

Gnert shrugged. “Mom told me when I was young. It’s an old story for kids, you know? You wouldn’t find anything like that in the library.”

When Jay could only wordlessly flap her mouth open and shut like a fish, Gnert laughed and leaned over the counter. “Alright, pip. Here’s the story. I don’t remember any names or morals or nothin’ but I remember the basics. They say a demon is a star that fell out of the sky and has to live on the ground like a person.”

Jay felt a tingly sensation creep up across her neck. She nodded at Gnert. “Go on.”

“Well, the star is lonely down on the ground. It can’t ever go back where it came from. It misses its family in the sky so bad that it turns to wickedness.”

Jay furrowed her brow. “Wickedness? Really?”

Gnert shrugged. “It’s a story for kids. There’s always a good guy and a bad guy.”

Jay remembered Alcor telling her that most demons weren’t as nice as him. The tingling feeling spread from her neck to her torso. “Okay. Go on.”

“You know how you can go wish on a star? They say that’s because stars are made out of magic. And that means demons are too.”

Jay saw herself turning around and around and finding Alcor in front of her no matter what she did. Her arms were tingling now.

“The demons try to trick people by giving them nice things and doing favors with their magic.”

His words rang in Jay’s ears. I can’t really do magic for free.

“And then right when you’re not expecting it… BAM!” Gnert slammed her hands on the counter. “They gobble you right up!”

Gnert started laughing, but it felt very far away. The tingling had spread across Jay’s entire body at this point, and with the tingling came a thought. A memory. An image floated into her brain of Alcor crouching down next to her, her hand in his, his tongue lapping away at her cut -- lick, lick, lick -- and there was blood on his teeth. Her blood.

Something in her brain flipped over. She jumped out of her stool, and banged her hip against the underside of the counter. “Frick- agh!” she yelled, barely avoiding falling over in pain.

Half of the diner looked up at her shout. Gnert dashed around the counter to her with a panicked expression on her face. “Jay, I’m sorry, I got too excited about that story. Let me help you.”

“No, stop, I’m fine,” Jay grunted. She grabbed the edge of the counter to pull herself up. “It wasn’t the story. I’m just old, haha, remember? I’m fine.”

Gnert seemed torn between offering her more help and leaving her be. Deflating, she returned to the other side of the counter, and started fiddling with cooking instruments, all without taking her eyes off of Jay.

It took a minute for Jay’s breath to go back to normal. Her hip should’ve hurt quite a bit, but it was barely registering to her in her mind. She was too preoccupied with Gnert’s story. Her thoughts were circling around and around like a swarm of ringwats. She knew it had only been a fairytale, but at least some of it had to be true because she really had met a strange man that could do magical favors. And if some of it was true, she couldn’t help but wonder…

The star is lonely down on the ground. It can’t ever go back where it came from.

She wanted to go home. “Is my order almost done?” she asked.

Gnert flinched, almost dropping the pot of coffee she was refilling. “Sorry. Let me check on that for you.”

Jay watched her go, and felt a funny tickle in her mind. “Actually,” she added, almost absentmindedly, “can you throw in a bar of candy with my order?”

Gnert looked surprised. “I can definitely do that. What kind would you like?”

“Uh…” Jay looked at the pile of candy against the far wall, and realized that she hadn’t eaten candy in a really long time. “Wow, I don’t know. Surprise me?”

Gnert nodded, and rushed off to gather Jay’s food. She was back a minute later, and Jay quickly paid for the meal and left. She could still feel the whole diner’s eyes on her as she walked out the door and down the street.

It wasn’t until she was a couple of blocks away that Jay realized what she’d done. She looked at the candy bar in her bag -- a Sneakers bar -- and slapped her forehead. What was she doing, spending hard-earned money on candy so she could call a guy she barely knew and wasn’t sure she could trust? What was she doing spending money on the chance... to have... a family again?

Jay stopped in her tracks. Was that really what this was? The chance to have a family again? She’d gone so long without anyone she could call family. Everyone she’d ever loved was dead -- or at least, in the case of her sister, probably dead. From what he’d told her, it sounded like he was in the same situation. If she was his chance to have a family again, maybe he was hers too.

Feeling her resolve strengthen, Jay rushed the rest of the way home. She dropped her meal onto her bed and clapped her hands in front of her computer. Her computer seemed to struggle to turn on, but eventually the screen illuminated and displayed the poem she’d started writing a few days. She felt like the breath was being squeezed out of her as she reread it.

Harsh cold nights in the recesses of space Plucked right out, leaving me without a trace Death defied, now she’s on her way back home One last hope that I won’t be so alone

She’d had her sister in mind when she’d written it, but as she turned Alcor’s words over in her head, she wondered if maybe it wasn’t about him instead. Maybe he was the family that she’d been hoping against hope for all of this time.

Jay took a deep breath, and made a decision.

There wasn’t very much space on the floor, but she managed to find a spot big enough for her to completely unfold the magic circle picture Alcor had given her. She arranged the candles so that they sat on the symbols that went around the edge. She activated the lighter on her phone and lit the candles one by one. Almost done. She looked around for the bag from the diner -- it was still on her bed. She reached in and grabbed the candy bar. It was light, but she felt out of breath anyway. She unwrapped it and dropped it into the center of the circle.

“Hey, Alcor,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I’ve thought about it. I want to give this a try.”

Instantly, all of the lights in the room went out. The candles lit up by themselves shortly after, but their flames were blue instead of yellow. A prickly presence came over her -- the fuzzy feeling she’d been having on and off for the past few days. And finally, a smile appeared in the middle of the room.

“Jay!” Alcor exclaimed. He hopped over the candles and wrapped her in a vice grip hug. “You mean it?”

The light gradually returned to the room, and in the light she was reminded of everything that was wrong. His positively ancient clothing, his pointed ears, his wings like windows into the sky. How was it possible that this was her brother? It didn’t make sense. This was madness. She couldn’t be doing this.

“Yeah,” she breathed. She hesitated for a moment, and then hugged him back. “Yeah, I mean it.”

(AO3 link)

[thezachrogers]

The Best and Worst Films of 2019.

We are THREE days away from the Academy Awards and I know this is way overdue, but I made the deadline and have brought the films to watch and avoid that came out last year. We will be counting down from the films that were best all the way down to the worst.

2019 was the best year for film in a long time and I will go down saying I LOVED my top 26, I liked 27-65 and I only disliked/hated four films I saw last year. Overall an excellent year of endings to series, a great year for original films, and we are in for one of the most competitive Academy Awards yet. So here it is, counting down from best to worst, the 69 films I saw in 2019:

Avengers: Endgame - NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+ nominated for 1 Oscar, one of the best films I have ever seen in my life and my current all time favorite comic book film. 

Ford v Ferrari - nominated for 4 Oscars including Best Picture. Wow, wow, wow; what a movie, see this movie ASAP. Hands down the BEST performance of Matt Damon’s career, a definite snub for Best Actor, directed by 2017′s Logan’s James Mangold.

Jojo Rabbit - nominated for 6 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Supporting Actress, this film gives you all the feels. Border lining on the edge of offensive, this story is about a little boy growing up in the Nazi Regime learning that everything he loves about Nazi Germany and what he believes about Jews just doesn’t add up. 

Marriage Story NETFLIX ORIGINAL - nominated for 6 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Supporting Actress, this cast brings it in this tragic story of marriage and divorce. I’m rooting for my boy Kylo Ren Sunday Night even though I know Joaquin Phoenix is going to win as the Clown Prince of Crime.

Bombshell - nominated for 3 Oscars including Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress (GO MARGOT ROBBIE), this is based on the true story of Roger Ailes’s firing at Fox News due to Gretchen Carlson’s accusations. Robbie gives the performance of her career and Charlize Theron plays a very convincing Megyn Kelly starting the “Me Too” movement.

The Two Popes - NETFLIX ORIGINAL nominated for 3 Oscars including Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. This true story and Netflix original is about Anthony Hopkins portrays Pope Benedict leaving the position and asks the now Pope Francis (Jonathan Pryce) to fill his shoes.

Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood - Nominated for 10 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor (guaranteed win), and Best Original Screenplay, Quentin Tarantino’s masterpiece is LOOSELY based on 60s Hollywood during the time of the Manson Family murders.

The Irishman - NETFLIX ORIGINAL Nominated for 10 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, and Two Best Supporting Actor Nominees, Scorsese brought it in this four hour Netflix Orginal.

1917 - Nominated for 10 Oscars including guaranteed Best Picture and guaranteed Best Director, 1917 takes place in real time and is shown in two takes. Brilliant cinematography and direction, this is one to see in theaters.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Oscar Nominated for Best Supporting Actor, this movie brought me to tears. I grew up with Mr. Rogers and Tom Hanks absolutely kills it in this role.

The King NETFLIX ORIGINAL

Parasite - Nominated for 6 Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director. This Korean Film has the craziest plot I have ever seen in a movie. See it. You will be blown away.

Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker - Nominated for 3 Oscars including Best Score this was quite the underwhelming finale compared to Endgame, I mean a 42 year buildup and it just did not hit home like it should have. Now they ended the big three’s (Luke, Han, and Leia) arcs very well and FREAKING KYLO REN has become my all-time favorite character. We all need to thank Adam Driver for carrying this trilogy on his back as Rey, Finn, and Poe’s arcs where just meh. I do believe JJ did everything he could do with what he was given with The Last Jedi. All the fan service was amazing and very appreciated like bringing back Wedge, Lando, Han, Young Luke, Young Leia, Red 5, and Palpatine back for last ride. I will be in line at Target at 7am to pick up their exclusive packaged Ultra 4K Bluray and yes, I’ve already started the paperwork on financing the Best Buy exclusive complete Skywalker saga (I’m not joking).

El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie NETFLIX ORIGINAL

Honey Boy PRIME ORIGINAL - 2019 was the comeback of Shia LaBeouf’s career. This movie was written by him and loosely based on his life. LaBeouf plays his father and brings the best performance of his career.

The Report PRIME ORIGINAL 

Spider-Man: Far From Home

They Shall Not Grow Old NOW AVAILABLE ON HBO

Uncut Gems - Snubbed by the Golden Globes and the Academy Awards, the Safdie brothers deliver a masterpiece and the performance of Adam Sandler’s career.

Togo - DISNEY+ ORIGINAL

Frozen II - Nominated for Best Original Song, if it doesn’t win, lets riot.

Knives Out - Nominated for Best Original Screenplay, this Rian Johnson directed film was snubbed from every other category due to everyone remaining pissed off about The Last Jedi.

Toy Story 4 - NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+ Nominated for Best Animated Film and Best Original Song, another underwhelming finale (that no one asked for, because we already got it with Toy Story 3), I still loved this movie and it is well deserved for best animated film but not more deserving than the snubbed Frozen sequel.

Little Women - Nominated for 6 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Actress, and Best Supporting Actress, Florence Pugh and the rest of the cast delivered in this reboot and this was a film I thoroughly enjoyed at home.

Richard Jewell - Nominated for Best Supporting Actress

The Peanut Butter Falcon

The Farewell

Harriet - Nominated for 2 Oscars including Best Actress

Klaus - NETFLIX ORIGINAL Nominated for Best Animated Film

Dolemite Is My Name - NETFLIX ORIGINAL Eddie Murphy’s triumphant comeback delivers. Definite snub, this is not the last we will see of Eddie in the coming months with Coming 2 America and Eddie’s much anticipated standup special

Missing Link - NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU Nominated for Best Animated Film

Joker - Leading the Oscars with 11 Nominations including Best Picture, Best Actor (guaranteed win), Best Director, Best Cinematography (Guaranteed win), Best Score (guaranteed win); Joaquin Phoenix delivers a career-defining performance (that still does not touch Heath Ledger’s) in a quite underwhelming plot with beautiful cinematography and a masterful score, this movie is turning the tides for the comic-book film genre.

Late Night PRIME ORIGINAL

John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum NOW AVAILABLE ON HBO

Shazam! NOW AVAILABLE ON DC UNIVERSE

Fighting With My Family NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU

Long Shot NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU

Doctor Sleep

Hustlers

Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened NETFLIX ORIGINAL

The Highwaymen NETFLIX ORIGINAL

The Laundromat NETFLIX ORIGINAL

The Aeronauts PRIME ORIGINAL 

Always Be My Maybe NETFLIX ORIGINAL

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil - Nominated for Best Hair and Makeup

Chasing Happiness PRIME ORIGINAL

Good Boys

Fast and Furious Presents: Hobbs and Shaw

Aladdin NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+

Captain Marvel NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part NOW AVAILABLE ON HBO AND HULU

Isn’t It Romantic NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU

Detective Pikachu NOW AVAILABLE ON HBO AND HULU

Lady and the Tramp DISNEY+ ORIGINAL

MIB: International NOW AVAILABE ON HULU

6 Underground NETFLIX ORIGINAL

Noelle DISNEY+ ORIGINAL

Ad Astra - Nominated for Best Sound

The Lion King - NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+ Nominated for Best Special Effects

It Chapter Two

Ready or Not

The Lighthouse - Nominated for Best Cinematography

Dumbo NOW AVAILABLE ON DISNEY+

Little NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU

Happy Death Day 2U NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU

Triple Frontier NETFLIX ORIGINAL

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile - NETFLIX ORIGINAL Another gem from Netflix, Zac Efron gives the acting performance of his career as Ted Bundy.

Glass NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU - The final film in the Unbreakable trilogy that no one asked for...yet we didn’t know we wanted. This film was highly anticipated for a sad (yes, tears) ending to same great characters. Glass does not hold a candle to Unbreakable, nor Glass, but it is still loads of fun.

Dark Phoenix - They say they save the best for last...well it X-Men’s case, they don’t. This film was a polished turd with great acting from McAvoy and Sophie Turner. 

Murder Mystery - NETFLIX ORIGINAL Oh look, another movie where Adam Sandler went on vacation with his buddies and said “lets get Netflix to pay for a Eurotrip by making a movie,” and then you get Netflix’s Murder Mystery. Looks like they will be paying for another vacation with 2021′s Murder Mystery 2. No, I am not kidding.

Wine Country NETFLIX ORIGINAL- This film had literally all the SNL power women except for Kristen Wiig...I wonder why? JK, horrible...no wonder it went straight to Netflix

Us NOW AVAILABLE ON HULU - The worst and most overrated movie of the year. I was so excited, I went to the theater opening night. What a disappointing follow up to Get Out and a complete waste of time. Do not watch this movie.

[layce2015]

Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Chapter 3: Dinner at the Goldstein's

"Take a right here..." Tina said as she guides the three of us down Brownstone Street. Newt and Tina, both, are helping to keep Mr Kowalski steady on his feet while he keeps making various retching sounds which, to me at least, is odd, the Murtlap bite must be affecting him more than it should.

As we round the corner, Tina hurries us to hide behind a large truck and she peers over her shoulder, across the street.

"Okay--before we go in--I'm not supposed to have men on the premises." She said as she looks between Newt and Mr Kowalski.

"In that case, Mr Kowalski and I, along with (y/n), can easily seek other accommodation--" Newt started to say but Tina grabs Mr Kowalski's arm. "Oh no, You don't!" She said and pulls him across the street. Newt lets out a heavy sigh as I shake my head. "You tried." I said as we, dutifully, follow Tina and Mr Kowalski.

"Watch your step." She said as we make it to the building. Once we get inside, Tina places her pointer finger on her lips and motions us to walk in front of her, so Mr Kowalski, Newt and I walk ahead of her and up the stairs with her following behind.

As we get to the top floor, we hear a door open downstairs. "That you, Tina?" A woman's voice called.

"Yes, Mrs Esposito!" Tina replied.

"Are you alone?" Esposito asked her.

"I'm always alone, Mrs Esposito." She said and her landlord seem to be satisfied with the answer because we hear her door shut and Tina ushers us to move on.

We enter through a door and I notice the place is enlivened with magic. An iron is working away on its own in a corner, there's a clothesline revolving, clumsily, on its wooden legs in front of a fire, drying an assortment of underwear. "Teenie--you brought men home? And who's the new girl?" Another female voice asked. I look into the direction of the voice and see a pretty blonde girl standing in a silk slip, supervising the mending of a dress and I noticed that Mr Kowalski looks thunderstruck by the sight that he sees in front of him.

"This is my sister. You want to put something on, Queenie?" Tina asked her.

"Oh, sure." Queenie said, unconcerned.

Queenie? Kinda an odd name. I think as Queenie waves her wand and the dress, magically, runs up her body.

"So, who are they?" She asked Tina.

"That's Mr Scamander and Miss (L/N). They've committed a serious infraction of the National Statute of Secrecy--" Tina said as Queenie looks over and Newt and I, impressed.

"They're criminals?" She asked.

"Uh-huh, and this is Mr Kowalski, he's a No-Maj--"  

"A No-Maj? Teen--what are you up to?" Queenie asked her sister with worry.

"He's sick--it's a long story--Mr Scamander and Miss (L/N) have lost something and I'm going to help them find it." Tina replied as Mr Kowalski staggers. I rush over to him and help him over to the couch.

"You need to sit down, honey." Queenie said, with concern, as she rushes over to him as well.

"Hey....he hasn't eaten all day. And....aw, that's rough, he didn't get the money he wanted for his bakery. You bake, honey?" Queenie asked and Mr Kowalski, who has stared in amazement at her, nods. Queenie smiles and said. "I love to cook."

 Newt and I look at her with curiosity and Newt speaks up. "You're a Legilimens?" She nods at this and I smile.

"Wicked." I said with a smile.

"But I always have trouble with your kind. Brits. It's the accent." She said, seeing my confused face.

"You know how to read minds?" Mr Kowalski asked her, appalled.

"Aw, don't worry, honey, most guys think what you was thinking, first time they see me. Now, you need food." Queenie said as she playfully gestures to him and waves her wand around and numerous food starts flying out.

I go and stand next to Newt when I hear a buzzing sound. I look out the window and see a Billywig, flying around. I tap Newt on the shoulder and he looks out just in time to see the Billywig fly away. He shakes his head and sighs. "We'll get them." I whispered.

"Yeah but not soon enough. You know we need to get to Arizona...." He whispered, softly, to me.

"I know! I want to get him there safely too, but she won't let us leave!" I whispered, quickly.

"Hey, Mr Scamander and Miss (L/N)." Queenie said and we whip our head around and see that Mr Kowalski, Tina and Queenie are in the kitchen, surrounding a table that's set up for five. "Do you prefer pie or strudel?" She asked.

"It doesn't matter." I said as Newt, at the same time, said. "Don't really have a preference."

We look at each other in embarrassment and I turn my head away. I notice that Queenie quirks up a grin and she turns to Mr Kowalski. "You prefer strudel, huh, honey?" She asked and Mr Kowalski nods with excited enthusiasm. Queenie smiles with delight and said. "Strudel it is." And she waves her wand sending apples, raisins and pastry flying into the air.

The concoction neatly wraps itself up into a cylindrical pie, baking on the spot, complete with ornate decoration and a dusting of sugar. Tina lights the candles as I hear a small squeak and I look over and see that Pickett has his head sticking out of Newt's pocket, looking around the place with curiosity. "Well, sit down, Mr Scamander and Miss (L/N), we're not going to poison you." Tina said as she gestures to the two seats meant for me and Newt. I look over at Newt and grimaced at him. He looks over at the window for a brief moment then turns back to me and nods. I take a deep breath and nod back at him and we make our way to the table and dig in to this delightful meal.

****

About half an hour pass and Queenie and Kowalski are getting along really well as they talk and giggle. "The job ain't that glamorous. I mean, I spend most days making coffee, unjinxing the john.....Tina's the career girl." Queenie said. There was a brief pause before Queenie speaks up. "Nah. We're orphans. Ma and Pa died of dragon pox when we were kids. Aw....You're sweet. But we got each other!" She said with a smile.

"Could you stop reading my mind for a second? Don't get me wrong--I love it!" said Mr Kowalski and Queenie giggles with delight. "This meal--it's insanely good! This is what I do--I'm a cook and this is, like, the greates meal I have ever had in my life." He compliments and Queenie continues to laugh and I can't help but smile at this.

It's cute that they are getting along so well but in the back of my mind I know that this isn't going to last long once the MACUSA Obliviates him. It makes me feel sad because they seem to like each other.

This whole rule in America for Wizards and Muggles not become friends or build any kind of relationship with each other is just ridiculous to me. "Oh, you slay me!" Queenie said as they continue to giggle. She takes her hand and places it under her chin as she stares at Mr Kowalski in wonder. "I ain't never really talked to a No-Maj before." She said. "Really?" He asked, astonished.

They gaze into each other's eyes as Newt and I exchange looks then look over to Tina, who is sitting opposite us, and we sit there in an uncomfortable silence. Queenie looks over to her sister then leans back in her chair, head hanging down.

"I'm not flirting!" She replied.

"I'm just saying--don't go getting attached, he's going to have to be Obliviated!" Tina replied in an embarrassed tone. She then turns her attention to Mr Kowalski and said. "It's nothing personal."

Mr Kowalski, suddenly, goes pale and starts to sweat again but he tries to look good for Queenie. Newt and I exchange a worried glance as Queenie asked. "Oh, hey, you okay, honey?" Newt, briskly, gets up from his chair and stands behind it.

"Miss Goldstein, I think Mr Kowalski could do with an early night. And besides, you, (y/n) and I will need to be up early tomorrow morning to find our Niffler, so--" Newt started to say when Queenie looks up at him in confusion then turns to Tina and asked. "What's a Niffler?"

Tina, who looks upset, said. "Don't ask. Okay, you guys can bunk in here." She said and she leads us to the back room.

[sleepy-and-anxious]

Good For Something excerpt:

Seen as people had an interest I’m gonna post an out of context scene from the beginning of Good For Something <3 Keep reading to read the scene. Please be kind bc its still my first draft lol

Tag list: @tawnywrites @seraphicscribbles @danafaithwriting @mademoiselleink @thekingsstudy @hawksnbooks @elliewritesstories @lachiffon @hpsinspo (sorry It wouldn’t let me tag your writing blog) 

Hepton: Where are you?

Me: Work

Hepton: Come home. I need to talk to you.

Me: I’ll be back later

Hepton: It can’t wait. Cato, Please.

Me: I’ll be back when I’m back.

Frustrated, I logged off my port screen and zoned back into what was happening in The Lounge. I’d managed to finally change out of Hepton’s coffee stained t-shirt and into my usual work wear; A large black long-sleeved button up shirt, leather pants and a pair of thick boots. I’d slicked back my short hair with hair gel, calling attention to my sharp features. As usual for these kind of meets, I kept my tattoos covered with either clothing or makeup. I didn’t want to give away too many features that would have me easily identifiable by the Noble Policing Union if the meet was a bust or if the job ended up going south.

I was stood with my back to the office’s closed door, I had a good view of all possible exits, and the many love-seats and chaises around The Lounge would make useful barriers if it came to any form of attack. The room was bustling with patrons happily drinking with girls on their laps or watching one of the many dancers on stage. Other patrons were nicely occupied in a room of their choosing with a partner of their choosing. The amount of nobles in the room, as usual, set me on edge, but I knew some of these northerners were the reason a lot of the girls could afford to live a healthy and comfortable life. I didn’t like it but as long as they didn’t come any where near me, I pretended they weren’t here. The Northern Noble accent makes me skittish.

It was usually a mutual dislike. Northerners didn’t like me either.

But, this was the South and this was my home ground. I had the advantage here. Always.

I had my eyes fixed on the entrance that I’d come through a few hours ago, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong, when a pale palm waved in front of my face. My head snapped to the left to find a tall blonde trying to get my attention. Fabienne Osrund was one of the newer girls, had probably been with Raven since the end of last year. She was a pretty lass, just a bit too quiet for my liking. I always felt like she could stare right into my soul.

“Sup, Fab.” I said, quiet enough for just her to hear. I looked to the clock to see I had three minutes before the anonymous requester arrived, my skin had started to feel as if it was covered in tiny paper cuts and I had to stop myself from searching for my necklace. I was still wearing it, it was just hidden - I never took it off.

“Sup, 1.” She whispers back. She always refused to call me anything other than the number on my left forearm. It was an odd thing to do, but I didn’t mind too much. Occasionally, Hepton and I refer to each other with our numbers and apparently, according to him, the boys still did so too.

“What needs met?” I quietly gave her the Common’s standard greeting, with a tense smile.

“Be calm. You’re pushing.” She said making sure to look me in the eyes - something she didn’t do very often.

Eh?

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking her over with my brows drawn. Though, I did take note of her request to calm down and made sure to let my muscles relax and let the edgy feeling fade. Much to my confusion, she just gave me a small smile.

I was still paying attention to Fabienne when the guest of honour walked in, but I knew when they’d arrived. I heard the small twinkle of someone coming through the beads and the relaxed mood of the room instantly changed. I couldn’t explain it. It was as if the entire room’s hair stood on end at once. As if the entire room, but me, held its collective breath. My gut told me something was wrong instantly. Every single self preservation instinct went haywire.

My eyes quickly found our visitor and I wasn't really surprised by what I found. Still stood in the entrance, proud as a peacock, was a middle aged lady. A middle aged lady whose clothes were typical Noble business lady fashion - a violet midi skirt, blouse and brief case - with her obviously dyed black hair tied back tightly in a ballet style bun and her lips painted a deep plum. She shouldn’t have been causing the anxiety that she was. Her face was plain and non assuming, but as she looked around the room and viewed the now frozen employees and clientele, her eyes held an amused glimmer and her lips turned up in the snobbiest smirk I think I might have ever seen. What a bitch.

The violent paper cut feeling had come back, but this time I welcomed it over unease.

Her hazel eyes quickly found me in the sea of people and, if I hadn’t have been watching her like she was my prey, I would have missed the deep swallow she took as looked me over with wide eyes. The lady’s lips pressed into a tight line. I tipped my chin up in challenge.

Yeah, Bitch, you say shit about my turf and I’ll make you wish you never stepped foot over the fucking border.

I felt a tight pressure on my left wrist. I broke eye contact with the snobby woman and, as nonchalantly as possible, I turned my head to look back at the blonde clutching my wrist like a life-line.

“One…” Her quiet voice trailed off. Her face had blanched and her eyes were wide and watering but her lips were pursed in anger. I’d never seen such a variety of negative emotions on her face. The concerning thing was that she wasn’t the only person in the room to react this way. 

Across The Lounge, most of the girls and even a few of the Noble men here to enjoy the entertainment were having similar reactions.  I spotted Raven across the room, perched on a love-seat with Momo, both seemed to have forgotten their wine in favour of desperately clutching each others hands. Though not obvious to most in the room, I’d known them long enough to know that was definitely a fear reaction. Self control has never been one of my strong suits but in that moment I managed to keep my face as neutral and emotionless as possible.

I needed to handle this now and I needed to handle it quickly.  

I tilted by chin up sharply again letting my brows rise high on my forehead before slowly, and as patronising as possible, gestured for her to come towards me making sure the woman understood that this was a command and not a request.

I had no idea who this old lady was, but I’d make this a damn hard pissing contest if she was going to come in here and scare my girls. The room was slowly coming back to life around us, with only a few of the girls remaining panicked and looking to me.

With her head held high, she slowly began walking towards me and I let a manic grin take over my face. Her poker face had fallen back into place and her gaze hadn’t strayed from mine. I knew this was going to be fun. Beside me, Fabienne had begun to hyperventilate, so without breaking eye contact with the visitor, I reached up and gently tugged on her ear until her attention snapped back to me.

“Go and get a drink, Fab.”

Fabienne didn’t need to be asked twice as before the sentence was finished she took off towards the bar, admirably maintaining her composure.

When the lady was a few feet away I reached back and opened the office door, to let her in. She walked in without greeting and sat down on the red velvet armchair I was sat at only a few hours before, evidently she had no issue with having her back to me.

Stupid or arrogant. Jury was still out.

Ravens's office was now free of paper stacks and holo-screens, revealing her large metal desk and rows upon rows of shelves stacked with thousands of tea light candles, that she'd helpfully lit before vacating her office for me. Raven liked the vibe that the candles gave the room and insisted that electric and neon lights and lamps killed her work ethic. I watched as the shadows danced along the walls along to the beat of the flickering flame.

Taking my place in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, I kicked my boots off and crossed my feet on top of the desk, maintaining my own poker face. Her top lip curled and her nose wrinkled in distaste before she raised one perfectly painted eyebrow. The waiting game. I knew this game well; I had learnt this game from Saintly long ago. I raised my brow back. The candle light made her plain face look angular and sharp, it elongated her nose and sharpened her nose. I presumed it was doing equally scary things to my own face.

"Mr. King, My name is-" she started, breaking the silence.

"I don't care" I interrupted quickly, being sure to keep my voice emotionless.

Her mouth tightened into a thin line once more at the sound of my voice. I don't know what she was expecting of me but I knew a South Commoner wasn't it.

"My name is Desdemona Snow." She began once more and this time I didn’t interrupt her, "I am here on behalf of my employer."

I blinked. Employer? It was a rare occurrence that I worked through middle men. Usually, people who felt strongly enough to pay for my services wanted to meet me to talk the details in person. You know, to build trust, or whatever.

"Who's your employer?"

"My employer would like to keep his anonymity, ergo, why he sent me." She replied.

Fair enough. I tilted my chin up for her - an order to continue. I watched as she ground her molars together giving me a tight closed mouth smile. She really didn't like taking orders from me it seemed. It made me smile something wicked.

"My employer heard that you're the person Southerners come to in order to get rid of problems. They say you are the best." She said, shifting to place the brief case she brought with her on top of the desk.

Well, that was one way of putting it.

"Lady-"

"Ms. Snow." She interrupted me, her North Noble accent a hiss in the room.

O-hoho. I really was getting under her skin.

Taking my feet off the table, I turned so that my body now directly faced hers.

"Ms. Snow," I started, finally getting to business, "I'm who people come to, to kill criminals." I shifted to place my elbows on the cold metal of the desk-top and leaned forward before clasping my hands together in front of my lips.

For a snap second, her eyes widened at my admission before she quickly reverted back to her. 

Interesting. It seemed she wasn't exactly comfortable in her employers decision but she was doing it anyway.  

She reached for the briefcase and nimbly undid the clasps to open it. From inside of the case, she produced a small information file that seem to only contain a few pieces of paper. This paper, I knew before looking, would be a profile. Gently, she slid the file across the table towards me.

"Then, this is your criminal." She said.

I'm not sure what I expected to find when I opened the file.

But it certainly wasn't this.

   The file was filled with three sheets of paper. That was probably about the only normal part of the profile. Quickly, I sifted through the short pages and the first thing I came across was a picture of a crime scene. The image depicted the aftermath of an attack in what looked like a barracks. It was a savage scene; blood covered practically every inch of the area photographed. No inch of wall or floor was left clean. Limbs had been roughly torn from torsos and strewn across the scene. This wasn't just a messy kill. This was a massacre like no other I'd ever seen. It looked as if it was the leftovers of a rabid animal attack.

"Blood curdling, is it not?" Desdemona mused, her expression neutral.

I didn't respond, instead I chose to move onto the next item in the profile.

The next piece of paper was an info profile, it contained a variety of basic information about the killer. I skimmed the information quickly, without taking anything in, then looked to the last item in the folder. A photo. 

My mouth felt dry, all of a sudden. The guy in the photo obviously had no clue someone was taking his picture. The image depicted a young man, sat atop the hood of quite an expensive looking car smoking a cigarette. If it had been a posed photo it would have looked incredibly pretentious, but there was an air of dark realism that I couldn’t help but drink in. Cars weren't my strong suit, I'd always preferred bikes, but I appreciated motors enough to know that the car was a modern com-tech muscle car. State of the art, fast and famously hard to handle. The car seemed to be parked in some hidden underground garage that was common up north, due to the northerners rejection of modern tech in favour of more archaic forms of transportation. 

But, even though I registered all those things, it was the boy I couldn't take my eyes off. He was around my age with messy dark hair. Even with the candle lit room and soft focus image, I could make out the strong line of his jaw, the heavy ridge of his brow and his almost feminine nose. His clothes showed a noble twist on the more Common goth-grunge look. He wore a fitted black dress shirt that was left unbuttoned to show a black vest top, dark ripped jeans and a pair of black shiny brogues. The picture was taken from too far away to me to get anymore details so I went back and kept flipping back and forth between the glossy image of the boy and the information sheet. His profile told me that he was in fact my age, he was only five foot six inches tall, weighed 177 pounds, had 9% body fat, 20/20 vision, blood type was AB Negative, wasn't allergic to anything. Apparently, his eyes were blue.

Tearing my eyes from the glossy image, I lifted my head back up to look directly into Desdemona Snow's hazel eyes.

"So, who is Mr. Short, Dark and Handsome?" I asked with an unimpressed smirk. Her face didn't move from her cold poker expression as she answered,

"The boy is known as Fire Demon." She stated simply.

Say what now?

“Okay.” I respond, feeling my eyebrows draw together. I looked back to the photograph. Fire Demon, huh? I got the picture of the crime scene back out and spot something I didn't notice on my first observation due to the mass of blood. Scorch marks.  "He some kinda pyromaniac?" I asked.

Snow blinked.

"Yes." She replied.

Okay then.

I did a Saintly, and silently waited for her to carry on with my brows high.

She evidently wasn't used to someone my age demanding things from her, but she broke again after a few minutes.

"As you can see from the crime scene, he is a dangerous individual who needs to be gotten rid of."

"Okay." I said. "Is there proof that it was him that did this?" I asked.

"He was found at the crime scene, covered in blood. He also readily admits it." She admits, looking me straight in the eyes.

Fair enough.

"Why wasn't he given to the police, then?" I enquire, curiously. She remained quiet for a beat too long.

"My employer believes the police wouldn't be able to handle him." She finally said. Her word choice was careful and calculated in an obvious attempt to not reveal information. Little did she know that I'd find out anyway.

"Is this a vendetta on behalf of your boss? Who're the victims?" I ask, carefully trying to gauge the motivations for this action. Usually the people who come to me openly admit that they believe that the mark would pay off police or that they have no chance of changing their ways. But this didn't seem like that kind of situation to me.

She shakes her head, breaking eye contact.

"My employer wishes to take this course of action in order to protect more innocent people from being savagely murdered." She said, her voice void of emotion.

I nod in understanding but before I can ask anymore, she continued.

"My employer is willing to considerably compensate for any trouble you will go through." She states, carefully.

That caught my attention. My average monetary charge was around 2,000 RC; sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less. It really depended on the difficulty of the job, whether I felt killing the person would solve a problem and whether I felt it would benefit the Commons.  

So, I played the waiting game, leaning casually back in Raven's chair.

"My employer is willing to offer you fifty thousand republic counts if you can make the boys death look like an accident."

My jaw dropped.

What the fuck.

[homesoutofhuman]

Masterlist

John Wick

Oneshots:

Indulge  John Wick/reader - You love his body, you just don’t often get to see it, but for once, he indulges you.

The devil is a fallen angel  John Wick/reader - John’s reaction to you wearing his shirt 

Leather John Wick/reader- Watching John clean his guns leads to smut

Suck it and see  John Wick/reader - John and reader go lingerie shopping on a hot day

Your addiction John Wick/reader- Vamp!John Wick

Season of mists  Pt 1 Pt 2  John Wick/reader- Autumn AU 

Your sinner, in secret  Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3  Pt 4  Interlude Pt 5 (1) (2) John Wick/reader lawyer AU- After getting chosen for an internship at a prestigious law firm, you find yourself entangled with a certain hotshot lawyer, Mr John Wick

Bite Vamp!John Wick

It will come back (Wild) John Wick/reader Mulder and Scully type AU

The velvet rope  John Wick/reader -based on Your sinner, in secret, John and reader try bondage

Soft John Wick/reader - John and you spend a lazy day together

Hunter’s Lullaby John Wick/reader - 

Think of me John Wick/reader -

Collabs:

NFWMB with @keanuwwu Part 1, Part 2 John Wick/you - bodyguard AU

Multi-chapter:

Bluebeard (complete)- John Wick/reader - Given as part of a business deal to the mysterious John Wick, you must learn whether he really is the monster you’ve been told about.

Chapter 1: His stride is the wildernesses of freedom

Chapter 2: Go now out of the nest it’s time

Chapter 3: O the regrettings infinite

Chapter 4: Violent demonstrations

Chapter 5: Suddenly without thinking

Chapter 6: Grateful

Chapter 7: Thinking lots about your mouth

Chapter 8: Never so truly turned over and over

Chapter 9: Gazing with silly sickness

Chapter 10: Make our sun stand still

Chapter 11: Let lips do what hands do

Chapter 12: Secrets, running over my soul without sound

Chapter 13: Defeated by love

Chapter 14: My love is a fever

Chapter 15: Knew not eating death

Chapter 16: The weakness necessary

Chapter 17: My blood beats out your name to me

Chapter 18: Even to the edge of doom

Chapter 19: When I die I want your hands on my eyes

Chapter 20: Your goodbye is a promise of lightning

Chapter 21: I could not stop for death

‘Bluebeard’ Pinterest Board

Bluebeard starter pack

Blue Jeans (complete) - John Wick/reader baby!assassin John Wick who rides a motorcycle and keeps his guns in a box under his bed, meets a sweetheart who turns his world upside down.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

‘Blue Jeans’ Pinterest Board I am weak

Safe and Sound (WIP) - John Wick/reader Based on this photoshoot. You meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger and the next thing you know you’re bound and kidnapped and stranded in the woods with no one but him for comfort.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Safe and Sound Pinterest

Daddy Issues (complete) - John Wick/reader AU - Dilf! John Wick hires you as his nanny

Part 1- Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name

Part 2- Crush

Part 3- The wrong place for my love

Part 4- Melting in your vice dreams

Part 5- One call away

Part 6 - Crybaby

Part 7 - Slow hands

Part 8 - Bell, book and candle

Part 9 - Jealous

Part 10 - Bad at love

Part 11- Shiver

Part 12- Lay all your love on me

Part 13- Back to reality

Part 14 - Bed

Part 15- Will you still love me tomorrow

Part 16 - The other woman

Part 17 - Thinking ‘bout you

Part 18- How long will I love you?

Part 19- Fools rush in

Deleted scene

Part 20 - Feels like home

Part 21 - Birthday

Part 22 - Walking after you

Daddy Issues starter pack

Daddy Issues playlist

DADDY ISSUES CHRISTMAS SPECIAL Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five

Heal the Pain (WIP) - John Wick/reader, slight Santino D’Antonio/reader - AU- You’re married to the rich and powerful Santino but end up in hospital under the care of Dr Wick, sometimes you just can’t stop fate.

Part 1- Heal the Pain

Part 2- Treat you better

Part 3- Stitches

Part 4- Roll to Me

Part 5- How will I know?

Part 6- L’amore non si spiega

Part 7- If I dare

Part 8-  How am I supposed to live without you?

Part 9 - Leave your lover

Part 10-I just called to say I love you

Imagines/HCs: 

Protective John Wick

Bikerboy! John Wick

John Wick is a bigboy™

Scary Boss John Wick

Stockholm syndrome

John Wick MD (with Santino D’antonio)

Age gap head canons

Hate sex with John Wick

Royal AU/secret relationship (fanfic trope challenge) 

-------------

RPF (real person fic)

Walking in the wind - Keanu/Reader - Working on the set of Replicas, reader starts to confide in Keanu and grows close to him.

-------------

Other Keanu characters

Don John (Much Ado About nothing)

Desperado - Don John/reader 

Hades (Greek Mythology)

Fancast -King of the Underworld- Keanu Reeves

Donaka Mark (Man of Tai Chi)

Imagine being loved by me - Fanfic trope challenge- 42. The Big Damn Kiss + 84. Married to the Job (Donaka Mark x Reader)

Johnny Utah (Point Break)

Donuts for breakfast- based on request for reader working at the FBI, growing close to Johnny, angst with jealousy and smut: Part 1- You never get a second chance to make a first impression, Part 2- When someone shows you who they are believe them, 

-------------

Mads Mikkelsen

Duncan Vizla (Netflix Polar)

Headcanons with gender neutral reader

Headcanons for meeting and taking care of Duncan when he’s hurt

Summer Dress- Oneshot Duncan/reader - Duncan is distracted seeing you in a sundress and you manage to turn the situation to your satisfaction

Locked in- Request for the fanfic trope challenge- Trope 1: Locked in a Room, Trope 2: Unexpected virgin

Hannibal Lecter

Roses Fall-  Fanfic trope request: Hannibal x reader with the “blind date” and “florist” trope

Scarlet -  You’re seeing a psychiatrist, Dr Lecter for your issues with sex, loneliness and hyperfixatons. Will he be your cure, or have you just met the man who will only make things worse? Part 1 Part 2 

-------------

Bill Skarsgård

Multi-chapter:

Brothers- a forbidden love story: Bill Skarsgård/you Alexander Skarsgård/you Rated M for sex, swearing and a little rough and tumble

Part 1  - Busy leaving me

Part 2  - Just cause you feel it (doesn’t mean it’s there)

Part 3  - Come float with me

Part 4  - All fun and games until...

Part 5 - I taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you

Part 6  - A different side

Part 7  - Anniversary

Part 8  - Hostilities

Part 9 - Hotter than hell  

Part 10  - Friend of the Devil

Part 11 Out of the Woods

Part 12 Delicate

Part 13 Temptation waits

Part 14 Hell on heels

Part 15 Crying in the club

Part 16 Alone together

Part 17 Back to you

‘Brothers’ Pinterest board

Imagines:

Bill sitting at your breakfast table

Getting married to Alexander

[ikkaku-of-heart]

When Ikkaku and Zoro get married, Mr. 3, as Mihawk's intrepid butler, will likely be asked to attend and even help plan the wedding. His gift to the happy couple will be a pair of wax cake toppers. Ikkaku's will be her in her full wedding dress striking the traditional pose. Zoro's will be him in the pose he tried to strike on Little Garden when he was being turned into a wax statue.