#and the main reason we moved back to colorado in the first place was to be near her

[steviescrystals]

there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/

[pedrito-friskito]

// track 1 - fortnight //

-> welcome officially to TTWD! (kay’s version). first on our track list is some sweet, smutty lovin’ from my favourite lover boy, marcus pike🤍

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking, meet-cute, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before u tap it), marcus is a pleasure dom we all know this, kay knows nothing about the FBI LOL

Marcus has always hated paperwork. Finds it tedious, though he knows it’s necessary, but he loathes it, much preferring to celebrate a job well done than to rehash his assignment alone in his office.

It’s that exact hatred that had him sneaking out of the building, heading in the direction of the bar not far from his temporary workplace, one he’d visited earlier in the week with a few friends.

He’s only here for a few weeks, two to be exact. And with the way things are going, he has a feeling he’ll be heading back to Washington earlier than anticipated. He doesn’t mind the travel, it’s always been a perk of the job, though he knows it’s probably part of the reason he has yet to settle down.

After the fiasco in Austin with Robin, he’d sworn off dating for a while. Washington was a fresh start in every sense, but no sooner had he unpacked his bag, they were sending him to Maine on a job, then to Seattle, then Colorado, then Tulsa, the list went on and on. For a stretch of at least four months, he hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, living out of a bag and becoming far too accustomed to sleeping on those godawful chairs in the airport.

Seattle had been a highlight, however.

You were the commanding officer of your division, as much of an art geek as Marcus, and damn good at your job. Marcus had fallen easily into step beside you, and his week-long visit was shorted to a weekend after your success, but he found himself lingering, hesitant to tell his own CO that the job was done. He knew the news would make its way up the flagpole regardless, but he wanted to stay.

Wanted to know you better.

You let him, the pair of you starting with a dinner that was so full of conversation that you didn’t realize the place was closing until your polite-as-hell waiter gently suggested you head across the street to a 24-hour diner with the best cup of coffee in the city. You’d headed over, Marcus holding an umbrella over you both against the sudden downpour.

He lost count of the cups of coffee, enraptured by the way your hand kept inching closer to his on the tabletop, how your gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. On a whim, he reached out, curling his fingers around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

The rain outside had thinned to a drizzle, and he leaned across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

It was you who ended up taking him home, to the small house near the coast you called home. “Much nicer than whatever hotel they have you in, I can guarantee,” you commented as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you were over the threshold, he had your face in his hands and was brushing his mouth over yours, the taste of coffee lingering on both your tongues, Marcus stepping forward so you would step back, until your shoulders hit the wall and he could press himself against you.

You took him to bed, and called in the next day, more content to spend the day with him. You didn’t leave the bedroom much, and the week progressed like that, wrapped up in sex and conversation and coffee, until Marcus’s phone rang and the bubble popped.

“We need you in Colorado. Your flight leaves in four hours.”

He saw it move through your face, then you shrugged and said, “It’s the job. I get it.”

He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. You said over and over that you understood, and when he asked if you could stay in touch, that maybe this could work, your eyes clouded.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marcus.”

Crushed, he got himself drunk in the airport bar, and by morning, he had a new assignment, and knew he had to put you behind him.

Fate, however, seems to have another plan in mind.

Stepping into the bar, he sighs, heading toward the same stool he’d occupied a few nights ago, when a familiar face catches his eye. His heart stutters in his chest as he reaches his seat, letting his suit jacket slide off his shoulders.

Your hair is shorter than he remembers — maybe a trim, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him — but the rest is the same. Better, somehow, like a restored painting in his mind as he drinks you in again like it’s the first time. Perched at the bar, your fingers curled around a glass, one heeled foot floating in the air. 

He recognizes those heels. He took you out for dinner another night in Seattle, and when you got home that night, he told you to keep them on. And you did. He felt the marks in his back for weeks, but it was worth it.

He orders a scotch, knowing he’s going to need more than a little courage. But how is he going to play this? What’s the best way to—

“Marcus?”

You’ve made the decision for him, your excited gaze meeting his across the few stools separating you. There’s a light in your eyes he remembers, knows you’ve probably had more than one drink, and that your next will be water. You had a system, he remembers you telling him.

The bartender slides him his drink, and Marcus takes it over to where you’re sitting, sinking into the stool beside you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You grin wider. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”

His heart does that stuttering thing again. “You finally watched Casablanca?”

“I did,” you reply, nodding, looking up at him through your lashes. “Cried like a baby.”

“Told you.” Tossing back some of his scotch, he signals the bartender to bring you a water. “I can’t believe it.”

You’re still smiling, your head cocked slightly to the side. “You know, I had the strangest feeling I was going to run into you? It sounds insane, I’m sure.”

“Not insane,” he shakes his head, setting his glass down inches from yours. If he straightened his fingers, he could brush the tips along yours. “I’m calling it fate.”

“Fate?”

He nods, taking a healthy sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “I’ve been wanting to call you since I left Seattle.”

You scoff. “It’s been three months, Marcus.”

He leans forward, contemplating putting his hand on your knee but thinking better of it. “I know, and I feel awful. I just…didn’t know what to say. When I left, it didn’t exactly sound like you wanted to hear from me again.”

“I didn’t,” you say bluntly, sipping your drink and mumbling thank you as the bartender brings you your water. “It wasn’t going to work; we both knew that.”

“And yet, here we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fate, huh?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Or something like it. I’ve missed you. A week wasn’t nearly long enough.”

Your gaze meets his and lingers, flickering between his mouth and his eyes. “How long are you in town for?”

“Two weeks,” he answers. “Maybe less. I’m on assignment, but I plan to stay right through. Been slacking on my paperwork. Then once I get back to Washington, I’m hoping to stay in one spot for a while. What about you?”

“Two weeks,” you echo, and he grins.

“Fate, I tell you.”

“We shouldn’t do this again,” you say, leaning back slightly, your brow pinching. “Rekindle what we had just to have it pulled away again? It isn’t fair, Marcus.”

Defeat sinks onto him like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, and he tosses back the rest of his drink, the glass feeling like lead in his hand. “You’re right, it’s not—”

“We shouldn’t,” you cut him off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Before he can get another word out, you’ve got your fingers curled around his tie, tugging him down your level. Your lips are soft, tasting faintly of lime and mint, and Marcus can’t help himself. His free hand dives into your hair, fingers locking around the strands, tugging until your lips part against his and he can kiss you more thoroughly, tongue stroking yours.

You pull back with a soft moan, still gripping his tie. “You wanna get out of here?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s pushing the door of his hotel room open, your fingers linked together. 

“Don’t mind the mess,” he starts, but barely gets the words out as the door shuts behind you. It’s his back that hits the wall, a low grunt falling past his lips as you tug on his tie again, using it as leverage to drag yourself closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

Marcus groans as you fit your face into his neck, teeth scraping his pulse as his hands find homes on your hips. Clothes start to fall away, landing in puddles of fabric on the floor until you’re both bare and falling into his unmade bed together. He lays you out on your back, trails kisses right down the front of you, over each hip and along the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t stop until you’re keening, back arching and one hand locked in his hair.

You’re soaked when he strokes his fingers along you, his name sung like a prayer when he presses them inside you. “Fuck,” he grits, curling up and dragging slow, watching the way your body reacts, the way it shapes to him. “Just as tight as I remember.”

You whimper, head falling back as he pushes deeper, seeking out that rough patch inside you, remembering how it made you fall apart before. The hand not in his hair shoots down, fingers wrapped around his wrist, forcing him deeper.

He lowers himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed, surveying how you’re spread out before him, your knee hooked over his arm. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your thigh again. He can feel your muscles twitch, see the way your breath chokes out. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

Body writhing, your head lifts just enough for your eyes to meet.

“More.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, lowering his mouth to your cunt, laving his tongue around the place you’re split around his fingers. You moan loudly, one hand clapping over your mouth a moment later, and he snakes his free hand up your chest, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple between his knuckles.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against you, moving up ever so slightly to suck your clit between his lips. It makes your whole body go tighter than sin, bearing down on his fingers as your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop, swirling his tongue against your clit, releasing it only to lap at you over and over, his fingers never stopping until you go tighter still, every muscle going taut as you cum, his name moaned over and over until your body starts to go lax.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, still tonguing at your cunt as he does, pulling away only when you push lightly at his head. He stands slowly, cock hard as a rock against his stomach, and watches your eyes roam up his body as he licks his fingers clean.

“Come here,” you beckon as he leans over the bed, planting a hand on either side of you. Your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him close. “I still need more, Marcus.”

He doesn’t make you wait long, using his knees to spread your thighs further. His cock taps against your cunt as he lowers his body to yours, and you gasp, finding his mouth with yours. He drinks down your noises as he presses himself inside of you, the pleasure snaking down his spine like a memory.

He’ll be the first to admit that this is what he’s thought of these last three months. You, underneath him, your body soft and pliant and his. It hasn’t been far from his mind, playing like a movie in his mind whenever he’s taken care of himself.

But just like seeing you again in the bar, this is another thing entirely.

Your body accepts everything he has to offer, your heels hooking around his calves, hips rocking up into his. You’re still so fucking tight, and he knows he’s not going to last long, knows that’s why he made sure you came first.

The room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, with your breathy moans and his quiet grunts. You hook one hand under his ribs, the other finding the back of his head and tugging at his hair, putting your gaze to his. “I want to hear you, too,” you tell him, a sly smile on your face, and he nearly cums on the spot.

He didn’t need the permission, but it unlocks him all the same, the quiet grunts growing louder until he’s all but growling your name in your ear, fitting his face into your neck and biting down as he feels the pleasure coil tighter and tighter until he knows he’s about to cum.

It starts to rip its way through him, and he pulls himself from you, painting the crease of your thigh with his cum, chest heaving. You watch him, eyes darting between his face and his twitching cock. The look on your face tells him you have other plans for him.

Good, because he’s got other plans for you, too.

And fuck the two weeks, he’s not letting you go again.

As you both come down, Marcus having retrieved a cloth from the bathroom to clean you up, both of you sharing. a glass of water, your face turns sheepish as you hand him back the water. “What is it?”

Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. “You know how I said I thought I was going to run into you earlier? I think the reason I was feeling that…was because I’ve been meaning to call you, too. Since you left, I wanted to call you, and then something happened and I just…”

“What happened?” he asks, sinking onto the bed beside where you’re laid out, pillow bunched under your arm, head tilted into your hand.

“I got a job offer,” you say, and before he can congratulate you, you lift a hand. “I got a job offer, and you were the first person I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Because it’s been three months and you’re amazing and I kept telling myself you found someone else and that was why you never called. But then I got this job offer, and I…”

You trail off, shaking your head, staring him down. “What’s the job, sweet thing?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hand on your leg, covered by the blanket.

The sheepishness disappears and you grin. “It’s in Washington.”

// TTWD track list //

[lemonadegirl4344]

So, I saw a billboard yesterday stating that June 2nd was anti-gun violence day. To all the Europeans out there I agree, it's insane we need to have it in the first place.

So, in honor of gun violence day, I'm going to write a very, very, VERY long-winded post of information I've gathered from various YouTube videos, documentaries, and interviews I've watched about how to survive active shooters.

I'm breaking down Run Hide fighting and Avoid Deny Defend and of course, A.L.I.C.E

First off ALICE and why I don't really like it that much. Am I qualified enough for my opinion to be valid? Probably not but for those of you who aren't college students whose colleges have implemented this ALICE stands for Alert, Lockdown, Inform, Counter, Evacuate.

Alert is for how a student learns of a threat. Once you have learned there is an active assailant, you asses the sitaution and if it's safe to get the hell out of dodge or instead go into Lockdown. Inform is informing the authorites about what's going on if it's safe to do so. I'm not going into details about the other steps as they are literally Run Hide Fight and Avoid Deny Defend which i'm getting into now.

Run/Avoid

So, one thing or another you've found yourself in an active shooter/assailant situation whether it be a school, shopping mall, store, courthouse, or even hospital! The first thing you do, is where are the shots coming from?

This might be hard and the first thing you must determine is if there is indeed a threat. Once upon a time, a Walmart that was way down the road from us had to evacuate because someone thought the sound of someone popping BUBBLE WRAP was gunfire. I mean, yeah we used to live in a bad city but what you are going to look for is repeated, loud, bangs akin to fireworks.

One bang? Something fell.

Multiple? And there's screams? People running? Yup, there's a shooter!

Now, first off back to the "where is the shooter" thing, it might be hard because shots echo but determining the rough location of the shooter will determine whether it's safe or if you need to run.

Everything I've watched has made things about this step clear on Running or Avoiding the attack. When you walk into the building, make a note of potential exits that isn't the main one you walked into. During the Aurora Colorado Movie Theater shooting people in the showrooms run through the halls (and into the path of the shooter) trying to get to the front exit ignoring/forgetting the emergency fire exits located in every showroom.

Oh, which reminds me. If for some reason the shooter is behind you or sounds like he is, run in a zig-zag pattern as it is significantly harder to hit a target that is moving side to side.

Hide/Deny

So, either the shooter is close by or you have determined that there are no available viable exit routes or options.

What do you do? You find a room (preferably with a locking door) and barricade yourselves in. Anything can make a suitable hiding place, things like closets, classrooms, and patient rooms in hospitals, don't get me started on the possible hiding locations in a courthouse. If the door opens inwards, you can barricade the door by placing desks or furniture on top of each other alternating between the right side up and upside down.

Only assist the injured if safe to do so, the few videos I've watched that have covered what to do in hospital settings have made it clear you do NOT help the injured unless it's safe to do so or the event is over. You can always come back to them and you can't exactly help them if you're dead.

If an option, you can place the tables or chairs in such a way that it stretches from the door to the wall.

I've seen videos demonstrating that if you're in a small one-toilet bathroom like the family bathrooms from the Walmart type deal you lay down, put your feet against the door, hands on the wall behind you, and push back essentially turning yourself into a human doorstopper and deny access to your location.

Make sure you also know the difference between cover and concealment. Concealment would be you hiding under a table or behind a chair, things that block the shooter's line of sight but not their bullets. Cover is things like concrete pillars, things that block both line of sight and bullets.

Back on barricading, door opens outwards? You can use a belt or tie or something like that to tie the mechanical arm on the inside together and pull it tight.

Meanwhile, you and any others in the room are looking around for any improvised weapons.

Books? Scissors? Potted Plants? Your own hands? All viable options. A lot of the videos i've seen demonstrated people straight up using a local fire extinguisher to either spray the foam in their eyes or better yet (and more effective) clocking them upside the head.

Whatever it is, you and the others need to make a plan for "what do i do if the shooter enters my safe space" which leads to...

FIGHT/DEFEND

The sound of the gunfire is getting closer and closer.

Maybe your door doesn't lock or it's not barricaded properly.

Whatever it is, the shooter is getting into your location and you need to act.

Like I've stated in Hide/Deny, you're going to want to start planning on this ahead of time before the shooter walks in.

You need to grab weapons, like I've said, literally ANYTHING can be used as such. Scissors, brooms, fire extinguishers, go all "An apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough" on weapon philosophy.

You're going to want to talk it out with others in your room, decide who might throw stuff in the attacker's face as a distraction, which ones of you might run and physically hit him, which ones will wrestle the gun out of his hands, and which ones will pin him down and restrain him until the SWAT team gets there. The fight will be brutal and you WILL be defending your life; everything I've seen states one thing and that is you have the legal right to defend yourself. You might be in a fight to the death and who will it be? You? Or the attacker?

Your attack needs to hinge on surprise, hide behind a corner so you can jump out at them and catch them off their guard.

Critical spots you're going to want to aim for or the face or head. Yes, I am once again bringing up the idea of clocking them upside the head with a hard object, multiple times, what better way to take out the threat than to leave it unconscious with head trauma? If going for the face go for the eyes or nose.

Hell, stab their eye out with a fork in a fashion that belongs in the music video for Panic! At The Disco's Say Amen (or Black Butler), or break their nose and leave it shattered and bleeding.

While on the head, I think I once heard one tip that involves slamming your hands (like you're clapping and his hands are in between it) on his ears to discombobulate and disorient him.

Go for the groin, if male a hard enough kick (or someone even stabbing it) his manhood will dissorient him enough to dissarm him. If woman well, a kick to the groin still hurts too.

Knees make a good option to get the shooter down and on the floor. A hard enough kick or hit to the sides, front, or for maximum effectiveness, go for the back of them will send the shooter to the floor and most likely knock the weapon out of their hands.

Again, the fight will absolutely be tough but you also need to know it's either him or you and everyone else in that room.

After the attacker is disarmed, sit on him.

Place his hands on his back or if you have the people have them sit on the arms and hold both of them down.

Make sure you don't forget about the legs too, those need to be pinned.

And whatever you do, for the love of god DON'T PICK UP THE FREAKING GUN!!! (outside of maybe kicking it away or using a cloth to pick it up and put it in a trash can until SWAT arrives)

I remember very visibly one Run Hide Fight video (I think this one was published on a YouTube channel called eMotivate Media and the setting for this one was a courthouse) that should SWAT storm that room with that gun in your hands their training is to neutralize the threat... do you really wanna have multiple high powered rounds lodged inside your body? Yeah, that's what I thought so, or really what was the point of any of this?? Also, contamination of evidence.

So, I think I've got the basics of Run Hide Fight, and Avoid Deny Defend.

You've either run, hidden, or have fought off an active shooter.

Now, I'd like to direct your attention to a Sandy Hooks Promise video called "Evan"

Evan is a very bored teen. One day in the library he writes on his desk that he is bored.

Someone has carved back "HI BORED" and the teen writes back and forth with the stranger, communicating solely by desk carving but when he writes "WHO ARE YOU" and comes back the next day, the library is closed for the rest of the school year.

Oh no! Thankfully, the two find each other and laugh about it (and maybe fall in love) over their Yearbooks when they pick them up.

A fellow student walks in and starts shooting.

While we were focusing on Evan, you don't notice the student in the background reading gun magazines, or making violent gestures, or when Evan's scrolling through his social media and scrolling right on past a picture of the student posing with a couple of posters.

While focusing on Evan, you missed all the warning signs. And so, fellow Tumblr users I leave you with this.

Prevention is important, be kind to others, and please report any worrying behavior or possible signs of mental illness. Sometimes these shooters are just ill (most of them are not though, don't get me wrong, they absolutely know what they were doing) but if that mental health clinic had contacted James Huberty back when he was suffering from undiagnosed mental illnesses a few days before he suited up, looked at his wife on the sofa and said "I'm going hunting humans" before shooting up a McDonalds would it have happened?

If Charles Whittman, the Texas Tower Sniper merely had a psychiatrist or doctor listen to him and take him seriously when he was trying to seek help for these violent, sudden intrusive thoughts he had, would he have become known as the Texas Tower Sniper?

Now, don't get me wrong Charles Whittman absolutely knew what he was doing and could tell right from wrong, I also can't help but think of the big tumor they found in his brain that pressed right up against the area of the brain in a way that has been known to cause violent, impulsive thoughts on other recorded cases as well as the compulsion to write which we can tell from Charles's diaries he certainly had that. While some debate over whether or not the cancer affected his behavior or actions and while I think it doesn't absolve him of his actions... I mean, it's still a pretty sizeable tumor in his brain and anyone who has been through watching a relative with certain types of brain cancer will tell you that their personality just changes one day.

Be the help a potential shooter might be, don't become a maybe.

So which, I leave you with this quote.

"An active shooter event always starts as just another day"

[baguettehead]

Quarry days

Stan Uris x they/them reader

warnings: some curse words, richie tozer, lil bit of angst, possibly based off of real situations, lil bit of Reddie ;)

Summary: You’ve always had a thing for the brown eyes and mop of curly hair, the voice that made you melt like a Popsicle, but what if you added in scheming friends, darkness, missing gas, and maybe a turtle.

_____________________________________________________

   You had known the losers since 6th grade. That was the year your parents decided to make the move from Michigan to Derry, Main. You moved around a lot, and you weren’t even an army brat, your parents just seemed to enjoy hopping from place to place. Your parents owned their own business, all the work was mostly online so it was pretty easy to just up and leave. You were born in Washington state, lived their for a while, then you lived in California for a few years, Colorado for a singular year, Michigan, and now the shithole that is Derry, Maine.

    You had no idea why your parents chose Derry, there really wasn’t much here. A few nice shops, a pretty decent arcade, old people with sticks up their butts, and what you thought to be a normal group of neighborhood bullies.

    When you moved to Derry you had no one, and at this point you didn’t care enough to try and make friends, you didn’t know if you were staying long. After an tantalizingly long day of being forcefully introduced to classmates and eating lunch alone, in the library, you honestly just wanted a nap.

  Leaving the school you were suddenly pushed into the wall next to you, your bag thrown off your shoulder, and coming face to face with the wonderful scent of vodka and utter shit. Must be Bowers. He held you by the shoulder of your shirt with his right hand and with his left he put his forearm on your neck, effectively trapping you to the wall

  This was your first encounter with the infamous gang, but you’d heard about them from the few conversations you’d had with kids in classes and passing periods. Let’s just say, he was as disgusting as you’d heard. Has he ever tried a toothbrush before??

  “Look at this” he spoke, looking back to his gang of douchbags “Fresh meat” his goons laughed a little while you just rolled your eyes, you’d dealt with your fare share of bullies and asshats that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore

 “look” you said in an exasperated sigh “i don’t have cash, my mom packs my lunch”

  “well then” Bowers said “you’ll just have to pay me in another way darling” a disgusting grin overtook his face and his goons began laugh and cheer like they just took a shit on the toilet for the first time

  “i’m good” you spoke calmly as you attempted to leave his grasp. Bowers just stared down at you confused for a second before he snapped back into action and held you a little tighter

 “it wasn’t a question” he seethed through closed teeth

 “and i wasn’t giving a suggestion dipshit”

 Henry’s jaw tightened and you could practically see the anger bubbling inside him while his group of misfit toys got real quite

“now listen here you little bit-”

“no you listen asshole” you cut him off  “i don’t have time to deal with insecure little boys who didn’t get mommy’s attention as a child and now take it out on all those around him” you spoke quickly faking a pout and slowly worming your way out of his grip “your just some stuck up prick who relishes in the hurt of others because you are so hurt that your deranged little brain finds pleasure making other miserable so that you can fake happiness. News flash, hurting others won’t make you happy, you’ll always be an attention deprived, whiny ass child who probably won’t live past their 30′s, will definitely have a substance abuse issue, and even as a 15 year old attempts to drown his sorrows in vodka and punching kids smaller than him for fun” you finished your little rant, taking in a short breath “now” you continued, marveling at the befuddled looks on all their faces “i have a can of pepper spray in my back pocket and if one of you little rascal looking ass children comes any closer i’ll mace you in the face. Got it”

 As soon as you finished you slipped from his grasp and starting running like hell towards your house. You could hear him screaming profanities, and you knew you were now on his hit list, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to give a shit.

 Once you knew you were far enough, you knew he wouldn’t follow you but didn’t want to risk it, you sat on the curb to catch your breath. Almost immediately you saw 4 bikes coming around the corner, the occupants stopping in front of you and throwing their bikes down.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT WAS INCREDIBLE”  the one with coke bottle glasses screamed at you practically screamed at you, you returned a weak smile

“H-h-he’s gonna f-f-fu-fucking kill you” another rushed out

 You shrugged your shoulders “ive got a at least a few days” you told them “i wounded his masculinity, gotta build that back up” you muttered

 “I can’t believe you did that” the one with the fanny pack stated as he started to pace in front of you “i mean, now bowers and his whole gang are gonna be on your ass” he stopped in front of you and made direct eye contact “your gonna have to watch for him at all times” he deadpanned and you grimaced a little bit

“don’t worry” coke bottle glasses spoke up again “bowers is always on our asses so we can show you the best place to avoid him”

 “a-and the hallways to a-a-avoid h-him” the dirty blonde spoke up

you smiled up at them “i’d actually quite like that”

“Then welcome to the losers club y/n” the forth boy spoke up as he held his hand out for you, the one with curly hair and amazing eyes. You had him in two of classes and he always seems to catch your eye. You took his hand and he helped you off the curb before they gave you their unofficial, official, tour of the town.

 After that you were practically glued to the four boys, you did everything with them now. And if it wasn’t all of them, you were with at east one practically at all times.

You told them about your moving adventures, even opening up about your constant fear that your parents are gonna pack up and leave forcing you to leave them, and earning Richie’s nickname for you Cali. For some reason Richie couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that you lived in California, asking questions about it whenever there was downtime, and telling you about his dream of living there one day and making it big. You always told him that he could do it, because you truly believed he could.

Soon Bev, Mike, and Ben joined the group, making it 8. You gained your ‘secret’ clubhouse, and Bill, Mike, Stan, and Richie all got their licences.

 Now its junior year, you’ve made it almost 5 years in Derry, and you’ve gained the closed friends you’ve ever had

_________________________________________________

“You guys wanna go to the quarry after school?” Richie asked, his mouth half full of turkey sandwich and pretty much yelling over all the noise in the cafeteria. You shuddered and watched as Eddie slapped his shoulder and scolded him for talking with his mouth open, Rich pouting like a child. You loved watching them, a knowing smile on your face.  

 “sounds like fun” Bev voiced “y/n and i just went swimsuit shopping and they looked killer in their suit” she smirked at you from down the table while you blushed and rolled your eyes

“i mean i’d prefer to see the suit on the floor but whatever your comfortable with” Richie commented

you threw a baby carrot at his face, which he caught in his mouth promoting cheers from the others and for you to dissolve into laughter

“i is s-s-s-supposed to be like n-n-ninety degrees today” Bill added in

“oh fuck that” you groaned as you lent your head on stand shoulder next you and continued munching on your carrots, missing how he smiled down at you

“quarry it is!” Richie exclaimed before everyone else fell back into their conversations

“sooooo” you heard Stan draw out from above you, moving your head to look up at him but leaving it resting on his shoulder “will i get to see this new suit you apparently look amazing in?” he questioned while wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. You simply laughed, shoving his shoulder and telling him to shut up.

You’ve had a crush on Stan since 7th grade. You always thought he was attractive, like REALLY attractive, but after getting to know him and spending time together you knew you were fucked.

Bev has tried convincing you that he likes you back but, something in your brain just can’t accept it. She’s gone on and on about how ‘different’ he acts around you, how hes “not such a stuck up prick, he like, actually kinda nice and soft”, her words exactly. But, that was just the Stan you knew, the one you always saw. Caring, kind, funny, and enjoyable.

Bill drove you and Bev to her house, where your suits where from the last time you slept over like 4 days ago, and then took you both to the quarry. Once you got there you saw all the other cars and heard splashing and screaming.

“Those assholes went without us” Bev cried as she ripped the car door open, bolting for the cliff and immediately jumping off. You and Bill just laughed and sat there for a moment.

“r-ready m’lady?” Bill asked as he left the car and extended a hand for you

laughing, you took his hand “Of course good sir”

Bill was already in his trunks so after the short walk up the hill he plunged into the water , full cannonball, soaking almost everyone except Mike who swam out of the way. You watched from the top, laughing as they splashed each other back and forth. Sometimes it was nice to just watch their antics and relish in the moment.

“you coming sweet cheeks” Richie yelled up to effectively drawing every ones attention you

You blushed at the sudden attention “Whatever Tozier” you yelled back before you began stripping down to your swim suit.

Unbeknownst to you at the top of the cliff, you had some effect on poor Stan down in the water. He sat with his eyes glued to you as you exposed more and more skin. He’s seen you in a swimsuit before, hell he’s even seen you in your panties, but every time it still manages to make his mouth go dry and eyes widen.

“They’ll catch you drooling if you stare too long” Richie quipped with a smirk

“Shut it Tozier” he murmured lowering into the water to hide his blush right as you jumped from the cliff.

The eight of you spent hours in the water. Chicken fights, splash wars, and Richie attempting to dunk you, Bill even found a turtle which he claimed meant good luck. You only got out of the water for a bit to dry off before leaving. You and Bev lie on the rocks to dry off and maybe tan, that was, before Mike carried a bucket of water over and splashed you both with started yet another splash war. You finally got out when the sun started to set. You sat around and talked, told stories, before you had to leave. You were all still pretty wet but you didn’t care.

Stan had offered you a ride earlier and you happily agreed, knowing you’d get some alone time with him and ice cream if you begged hard enough.

You layed back on the rocks, to watch the sunset and see the stars starting to pop out.

“alright were heading out” Richie suddenly said

 Mike had already left, taking Ben with him due to their stricter curfews. But Rich was taking Eddie and Bill Bev.

“What, why?” Stan said, narrowing his eyes as if he knew they were plotting something

“j-just tired is all” Bill replied casually before he began walking to his car

“bye” Eddie chimed in

“Bye Edds!” you called back

“wait why can she call you that” Rich argued walking side by side with Eddie

“cause i actually like them” He replied casually with a shrug

Richie just huffed and pouted like a child before Eddie nudged his shoulder and he was all smiley again

“See you at school” Bev called, sending a wink in your direction which you replied to with an eye roll

As they walked towards their cars and began to drive away Stan turned towards you “That was suspicious right?”

“completely” you replied climbing down from the rock you previously lied on

“Okay good, it wasn’t just me” he said with a sigh

You laughed a bit “But when are they not suspicious?”

“You got me there” he said before he leaned back on the rock behind him

You crawled over to sit next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and just admiring the sunset. You both sat like that for a while, surrounded by comfortable silence.

One thing about Derry was that no matter how hot the days were the nights seemed to always be freezing, accompanied by wind. You crossed your arms over yourself in hopes of generating more body heat.

“Are you cold” Stan asked taking notice of your shivering form

“Just a bit” you answered not wanting to ruin the comfortable bubble you’d found yourselves in

“i have a blanket in my car” he started to stand up only for you to groan and cling on to his arm. Laughing, he sat back down and you cuddled into his side.

“you’ll catch a cold babe come on” you blushed at the pet name and melted even further into his side when he started combing through your hair with his fingers. Noticing that you weren’t going to budge he huffed a bit, though, he didn’t want to move either.

“I’ll get you ice cream” he sighed

You bounced up with a goofy grin on your face, pulling his hand towards the car

“Lets not waste time” you started “i’m in critical condition, need creamed ice immediately” you feigned sick with a hand to your forehead and pouty eyes. He only laughed, getting up and heading to the car, his hand never leaving yours as you walked to the car.

“what the fuck” he muttered as you reached the car

Tucked under the windshield wiper of his car was a note that said ‘use protection’, clearly in Richies handwriting, and a roll of condoms

You blushed lightly, giggling a bit. Stan looked to with a puzzled expression on his face “i don’t know” you shrugged trying to prove your innocence.

“I don’t understand half the things he does” you comment as you climb into the passengers seat

“does anyone?” he questions with a laugh

Stan throws the note and condoms into the center console before starting up the car. Your bouncing in your seat, the anticipation of ice cream making you giddy and Stan laughs at that. Well, the car doesn’t start. Stan tried multiple times, clearly getting frustrated

“uh Stan” you try and grab his attention, it works, anytime you talk Stan always has his full attention on you. You point towards the gas meter, which displays empty.

 “I literally got fucking gas on the way here what the fuck” he exclaims as he gets out of the car, you follow. You see him stop and stare at the gas tank opening

“what?” you question before reaching the other side of the car and falling silent

Right below the gas tank, on the ground, lays a rubber pipe.

“Did they fucking siphon my gas?!” He yells

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the gas lined pipe, before you break out into hysterical laughter. The pure kind that comes from the belly and leaves you gasping for air with side cramps

“its not funny” he yells

you try to talk but it just dissolves into more hysterics and soon enough Stan is laughing with you, your laugh is just contagious and your radiant smile that could light up the entire galaxy never fail to make him follow along.

After you both calm down, clutching your bellies, you break the silence

“so, what do we do now?” you look over to Stan who’s sitting next to you on the curb

“i guess i’ll call Rich and have him come pick us up” you nod

He stands up, pulling out his phone and calling Rich. You sort of zone out, guess you were more tired than you thought, but your brought back to earth by Stan yelling into the phone. All you could catch was

“what?! No! Hey no no no” and “Fucking asshole” as he ended the call. You new what was coming but you asked anyways

“so?”

“He said hes not coming” Stan sighed in defeat as he sat next to you and lied his head on your shoulder. Your hand immediately immersed itself in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and brushing through his curls. You sighed wondering how the fuck you were gonna get out of this one.

“what about Mike and Bill?” you questioned

“in on it” he sighed out and you hummed in response. You both sat there for a moment, in comfortable silence, trying to calm Stan down.

“did he say anything els-”

“do you like me?” Stan’s head rose from your shoulder, looking you in the eyes and cutting off your sentence. You felt your mouth go dry, eyes widening, cheeks getting hot and probably bright red.

“i- uh- well” you stuttered out, really having no clue how to answer that question

“I mean” he started, sighing and nervously running a hand through his head of wild curls “not in a …. friends way” he finished slowly, meeting your eyes

He had a blush of his own covering his cheeks and his marvelous brown eyes danced all over your face as if looking for the answer there. You sat there staring at him for what felt like forever, running over your choices. Just as the though of running away and joining the circus came into your mind you felt a surge of confidence and smashed your lips into his.

He tasted like mint, salt, and something you could only describe as Stan.

Your lips moved together perfectly, dancing around each other in the best dance you’d ever preformed. Teeth hitting teeth as the years of desperation and pining were finally put to a rest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, as yours wound around his neck and wove into his hair.

You both pulled away panting. His lips barely leaving yours, still ghosting over them like a precursor for whats to come. You stared into his eyes, you could get lost in those brown orbs so easily, drowning hopelessly in their beauty and dying happily. Stan was the first to break the silence

“yes?” he questioned

you threw your head back and laughed heartily. The sight alone made him melt in your hands and the sound dug his grave. The brilliant smile you flashed him afterwards felt like the afterlife and when you leaned down to capture his lips one again he knew he was in heaven.

“yes” you breathed as you pulled away from him, as difficult as it was

Stan smiled so brightly and let out a little cheer before falling right back into your lips and kissing you more passionately than anyone ever has and you doubt anyone ever will. There you sat, Straddling Stanley Uris in an empty parking and kissing him until you were gasping for breath.

You pulled away from Stan, leaning your forehead on his, pressed into his chest, barely inches away. He leaned up and peppered your face in small kissing causing you to break into giggles.

“I love you y/n y/l/n” he spoke softly into the night air

You stared into his chocolate eyes, in complete euphoria

“I love you too Stanley Uris” you told him with the most confidence you have ever had in a statement.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

[simonsrosebud]

Okay you can’t just make the “put a ring on it” comment and NOT think I’m gonna obsess over it - do they get engaged at some point? Who would ask who?

don’t worry, i’ve obsessed over it for days, now, but alas, here we go...

PUT A RING ON IT

the us court has been in london for the 2012 olympics for three weeks now.  and there are still things that kevin can’t comprehend.  he’d heard the stories, but the olympic village is exactly as described:  a mini town where anyone and everyone is hooking up, and where almost no one is sober after completing their events.  and since the schedules for each sport are so different, there are parties going on 24/7 without exaggeration.

it’s almost like a college campus, except every day was a friday night.

which is why kevin makes sure to score a single suite.  he socializes, sure, but he always ends up back and neil and andrew’s side.  they’re the only two he knows of- because he isn’t there to make friends, that has zero interest in the parties.  and neil is the only one he knows who refuses to drink until after all of their games are over.

it’s safe to say it’s the hardest three weeks he’s had to endure.  going from the excitement of playing to almost shutting himself back into his or neil’s room so he’s not surrounded by alcohol.  it’s suffocating.

but calls with dalton help, and he doesn’t know if someone suggests it, but he gets calls from a lot of the foxes often as well to keep him busy.  it keeps him sane.

the closing ceremonies are supposed to be the biggest party and celebration of the whole time, which is why he sneaks dalton in.  he doesn’t think he’ll be able to at first, but apparently he’s still a big deal at the olympics among all of the other athletes, so he’s got some pull.

he drapes his gold medal around dalton’s neck before kissing him.  “longest three weeks of my life.”  he mumbles.

kevin snorts.  “yeah, you’re telling me.”

the next morning, the us court moves out of the olympic village.  it’s a draining day filled with interviews and press work, but eventually they’re free to leave.

the majority of the team goes home to the states.  these three meet up with their family in london for the rest of the day.

as in, the foxes.

they’d all flown out, including wymack, abby, betsy, and even dalton’s family, and had been staying in hotel suites almost right outside the main stadium.  (yes this includes katelyn, nicky and erik).  they all go out to dinner somewhere where andrew, of all people, had basically rented out the whole restaurant.  kevin posts a series of pictures from the games and up on the winning podium, and then one last one with dalton wearing his medal.

the next morning is when they finally go home.  kevin and dalton pick up and drop off lilly from her dog-sitter and drop her off with renee before leaving again right after.  this time they fly to colorado.

were they just in london for 2-3  weeks?  yes, but it was a hectic 2-3 weeks for everyone.  they need a breather.

plus, they don’t have work yet.  it’s still summer.

they sleep the whole day they get there, still jet lagged, and kevin wraps himself around dalton in their bed.  they rented a small cabin on the lake.

and then he’s up early the next day, because he’s stressed.  he let’s dalton sleep, and after having some ~fun~ after he wakes up, kevin can barely bring himself to pull his lips away.  but kevin has plans.

“you wanna get dressed?  i have plans.”

when dalton goes to the bathroom kevin checks the side table for the third time that morning.

and when they get in the rental car, he’s subtly checks his pocket three times by the time they get there.

they go to a lake that dalton can’t remember the name of, but the views are so immaculate that he doesn’t really care.  or even remember to care.  the mountains are practically surrounding them and he thinks that colorado will always be the most beautiful place he sees.

they walk along the lake, there’s another young couple trailing along nearby.  the girl has a camera.  should he have gotten a photographer?

he brushes it off.  they stop at one point and sit on the edge of a rock with their feet hanging off.  the water isn’t that far, maybe five feet below them.

dalton rests his head down on kevin’s shoulder.  “i’m so proud of you.  i don’t know if i’ve said it yet.”

god, he loves this man. kevin kisses the side of dalton’s head.  they sit there for an hour, sometimes talking, sometimes not.  and when they get up, kevin holds dalton’s face.  “hey, i love you.”

dalton smiles.  he kisses him.  “i love you, k.”

kevin kisses him again.  “thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.” he should have practiced.  “and- i mean, everything.  you’ve always just… accepted me, for who i am, and loved me for who i am.  you make me the best version of myself, and the happiest.  i- you’re the reason i know how to love and i don’t care how hallmark that is.”  his thumb taps dalton’s lip.  dalton takes one of kevin’s hands in his and kisses his knuckles.  he hasn’t caught on yet.  “when i told you about every dark corner of my life you stayed.  and not only that but you helped me get better, and get over a shit ton of obstacles.  i don’t know how to thank you for it, even now.”

“don’t have to thank me,” he whispers.

kevin smiles.  “i know, but i want to.”  he pauses.  “remember when i didn’t understand why you wanted to stay, after i told you everything?”  dalton nods with a slight frown.  “and you said, i want you as long as you’ll have me.”

dalton starts to smile, as if he’s catching on to what might happen.

kevin reaches with one hand into his pocket.  “i want you for the rest of my life, d,”  he whispers, and dalton’s eyes are tearing up as he pulls the ring box from his pocket and lowers down to one knee.  “will you marry me?”

and dalton lets out a cry, a happy one, “that’s a ring, kevin day,” he whispers, and nods.  “yes.  yes, come here.”  he leans down and kisses kevin, “of course i’ll marry you.” and he pulls kevin to stand so that he can hug him.

kevin laughs, relieved and happy.  he wipes away the little tears on dalton’s cheeks and kisses him.  dalton’s hand is shaking as he slides the ring on.  people are cheering.

wait, what?

kevin turns, arm around dalton’s waist, and there are three people cheering from canoes.  one of them is standing, whistling.  “yeah, kevin day!  that’s our olympian!”

dalton’s laughing, grinning at kevin, who’s smiling so hard it hurts.  he turns kevin’s head to kiss him.  “that’s my olympian.”

and after a few minutes of just standing in pure bliss, the girl with the camera approaches them.  “i hope you don’t mind, i happened to get some pictures of the proposal, if you want i could email them to you?  and i-i can take some engagement pictures of you guys real quick?  if you wanted?”  kevin can tell she’s a fan, but he uses it to their advantage because he can tell dalton wants to say yes.

the rest of the day, all dalton can do is stare at his ring, at kevin, and at the pictures.  when they’re lying in bed, bare and sheets pulled up just past their waists, dalton has his arm around kevin who’s lying on his chest.  his left hand is outstretched, and he’s got love in his eyes.  “i can’t believe you just did that,” he says.

kevin, eyes closed, hums.  “it was the scariest thing i’ve done in years,” he mumbles.

“you literally just competed in the olympics.”

“i’m well aware.  do you not want to be more important?”

dalton grins, wiggling his fingers.  it’ll be a miracle if kevin can get him to not look at the ring for longer than five minutes.  “no, no, i’ll accept it.”

“good.”  kevin picks up his head so he can press a kiss to dalton’s chin.

[mask131]

The Shining, movie look-back: Closing Day

CLOSING DAY

 # As I mentioned before, the last day of the Overlook Hotel season is October 30th. Which means that the first day the Torrances spend at the Overlook is Halloween day.

# The scene of dialogue in the car reveals a lot about Jack’s character here, and Kubrick’s interpretation of him. Jack looks bored and uninterested by Wendy and vaguely annoyed at Danny, there is no true bonding or connection there – until the Donner Party is mentioned. It is when a smile appears on his face, his eyes gleaming as he tells the story of cannibalism, amused at how shocked Wendy is and unbothered Danny is. This scene already reveals how much of an unstable and cruel jerk Jack can be, not truly loving his wife, barely loving his son, fascinated and amused by the most morbid and disturbing things. It is one of the main differences between the novel of Stephen King and the movie of Kubrick, and another reason why King disliked a lot the movie: in the novel Jack is a loving husband and devoted father, who truly has a bond and care for his family, and thus his abuse of his family comes from a struggle, from internal demons he gets weaker and weaker in front of. It is a true tragedy, a family breaking. In Kubrick’s movie, we already have a dysfunctional family filled with darkness and abuse, but it is merely kept in check, hidden behind a nice face and basic social politeness – the stay at the Overlook Hotel doesn’t break down Jack, but rather reveals his darkness and unleashes his sins and vices, gives him the freedom to embrace his most cruel and deviant side.

# The mention of the Donner Party is a nice parallel to the “party” around which the Overlook is centered (“Great party, isn’t it?” Party = murder. Donner Party = cannibalism). It is even more prevalent in the novel since there the notion of party is omnipresent at the Overlook.

# I just want to admire this shot of the outside of the Overlook. Look at how the cloud slowly moves into the mountain peak, swallowing it. You truly are at the top of the world, or rather at the “rooftop of the world” as the novel mentions.

 # There is a great attention to details: you can actually see Danny’s tricycle in the background when Jack is welcomed at the hotel, alongside the rest of the Torrances luggage.

# You can start noticing at this point how the light fixtures cause a reflection on the white walls and on the wooden floor. Not only does it makes the lighting more surreal, but it also plays with the theme of mirrors – the entire Overlooking acting like a big mirror. The light fixtures themselves give to the hotel a vaguely Gothic look in their imitation of candles and candelabras, bringing to mind the old haunted mansions and castles.

# Notice the ENORMOUS amount of black and white pictures in the Colorado Lounge. I already mentioned those framed pictures can be found in a lot of places of the hotel, and they are a foreshadowing of the ending. However they are also a symbol: they represent how the past of the hotel lays heavily on its present, staying omnipresent to the eyes of modern guests.

# You can see a driftwood sculpture right in the middle of the Colorado Lounge. In the movie you will see a few other driftwood sculptures across the common areas of the hotel. I do not think they have a particular meaning (unless maybe they are here to parallel the hotel with a “desert island”?), but they look beautifully disturbing.

# We can see another very subtle and hidden architectural incoherence here: if you look carefully, when the group leaves the Colorado Lounge, there is a hallway in the background that makes a corner and from which people come from… However, if such a hallway did exit, it would block the great windows of the Lounge.

# Ah yes, the first scene of the creepy twins… While nowadays everyone knows that they are ghosts of the hotel, for someone with no previous knowledge of it there is a strong ambiguity that is willingly done. The hotel still has people in, and while they look very creepy and out of place, those little girls could still be with guests.

However, of course, their ghostly nature is easily given away here. Their creepy behavior, their old-fashioned clothes, and particularly the colors of their outfit (turquoise and white) that clash with the rest of the game room and make them stand out much more. That’s without counting their unnatural way of moving, as if they were joined at the hip.

 # You can already spot Jack’s lecherous nature in this segment. Most particularly right before entering the caretaker’s apartment – Ullman is greeted by two women that leave the hallway, and while Ullman and Wendy quickly turn their head away to focus on the apartment itself, Jack spends a longer time watching the girls and keeps looking at them as they leave. One can also note the difference between the two women (blond, pretty, tall) and Wendy herself (average size, plain, dark-haired). In fact, we can almost see Jack’s scene in room 237 being foreshadowed here.

# The hedge maze! As you probably know, the hedge maze is Kubrick’s invention to replace a distinctive feature of the hotel in the novel: hedge animals. The whole idea of these hedge animals is that they acted as proto-Weeping Angels, moving when you didn’t look at them, and they played with the very basic and childish fears of the wild and giant animals coupled with some Alice flavors. However Kubrick realized that trying to adapt that on screen was going to be impossible, and so decided to replace the hedge animals with the hedge maze (a very good decision since the later mini-series would prove that trying to adapt the idea to screen in the days would be a failure).

The hedge maze plays here with a labyrinth motif that is repeated throughout the movie: the hallways of the Overlook are like a maze in which Danny gets lost, Wendy mentions how labyrinthic the kitchen is… The hedge maze is described as “as old as the hotel itself”, and in facts as a double/twin of the hotel. It fits in with another strong theme of the movie: duality. Past and present, the hotel and the maze, Wendy and the woman of room 237, the mirrors and the twins…

# They decided to keep the construction going from 1907 to 1909 like in the book. It realized that, as Ullman describes the building of the hotel, most of the windows of the Overlook have curtains only half-shut. The curtains are pushed and drawn in a majority of them, but never completely, giving these windows a very creepy appearance, almost as if they were half-closed eyes. In a similar way the opened garage door evokes a giant opened mouth.

 # Now… we get to the famous/infamous part. Kubrick decided to add to the Overlook history the fact it was built on an Indian burial ground. This was not present in King’s novel (though he used the Indian burial ground trope in another work, Pet Sematary), in fact in the original novel there is no true origin to the evil of the Overlook (even in the deleted prologue, Before the Play, that details the construction of the hotel, no origin of the evil is given, the place was just cursed from the start). The trope of an Indian burial ground being an explanation for hauntings or curses of American buildings, while popularized with this movie, actually started with the “Amityville Horror” movie a few years before.

Knowing how clever Kubrick was, you might wonder why would he use such a basic horror trope for his work. That is until you look at the bigger picture, and you realize his inclusion of the Indian burial ground isn’t just a throw-away detail. The Overlook Hotel’s decorum is filled with Native American motives and figures, from the tapestries on the walls to the stained glass at the top of the windows – according to Ullman, the decorum was inspired by Navajo and Apache motifs. The hotel is thus imbued with cultural appropriation and with Amerindian tones – in fact, the music used during the last segment of the movie, when the ghosts openly manifest themselves, was compared to many to “Native American chants and music” and thought it a sign of the Indian burial ground curse. But we can go deeper than that. It is an analysis of the movie that has arisen in the 1990s if I am not incorrect, brought forward by a movie critique, and that has since then been really popular – mostly because it becomes a very obvious message when you look more into it.

“The Shining”, and the Overlook Hotel, are a subtle commentary on the massacres and the dark history of North America. Think about it… built on a sacred site of the First Nations, a place stolen from its rightful owners and desecrated, and to build what? An elitist hotel for the wealthiest and more famous white people. A place of dark secrets and perversions that hosts lustful, violent, racist ghosts stuck in an illusion of a past glamour and never-ending party. The idea of the Overlook reflecting American history isn’t all from Kubrick: Stephen King already intended the Overlook to represent the darkest side of the USA history and “elite”, gathering the greatest movie stars, sportsmen, businessmen and presidents of the USA, but also high-class prostitution, mob activity, perverse elite orgies, corruption and racism… Kubrick however decided to add the genocide of the Native Americans into the picture, and thus to deepen and widen the symbolism of the Overlook.

 # The Gold Room is another invention of Kubrick. In fact, the Gold Room is quite interesting… In the novel, the common areas of the lobby level are the Overlook Dining Room, the Colorado Lounge, the ballroom and banquet facility. The Gold Room is Kubrick’s take on the ballroom of the Overlook Hotel, however it is also based on the Colorado Lounge. While in the movie the Colorado Lounge is this vast resting place and common area, in the novel it is the hotel’s bar. Kubrick decided to move the bar to the Gold Room.

# In the Gold Room you can see the two other colors of the hotel being quite prominent: the red of the sofas and chairs, and the green of the tables. The choice of making this place the “Gold Room” is another element highlighting the elitist and wealthy aspect of the Overlook, which after all was the hotel of the jet-set, of the presidents and the movie stars. Talking about the Gold Room sequence, note how the employees behind are absolutely silent, each one doing his own task on his own little corner, without interacting, talking or even looking with any colleagues. The same thing applies to other workers in the background – it is a technique Kubrick uses to have an active crowd that won’t take away the focus from the main protagonist or who won’t cover the dialogue with noises. It is also a technique he uses to make the ghost crowd of the Gold Room more otherworldly, but more on that later.

 # Several viewers noted that the kitchen is filled with signs – all sorts of “no smoking”, “no drinking”, “keep doors sealed” and “keep the area clean” signs are everywhere. This big quantity of orders and warnings subtly invokes a sense of danger and caution. The line of Wendy here, about leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find her way in the kitchen, reveals another underlying theme of the movie: fairytales. The theme was already present in the novel itself (for example the forbidden room reminded Danny of the forbidden room from the Bluebeard story), but is also used in the movie: I mentioned before the heavy presence of Disney cartoon characters in Danny’s bedroom, there are the lines of ���I’ll huff and I’ll puff” which identifies Jack with the big bad wolf, and of course the Hansel and Gretel lines also hint at the hotel being like both the creepy forest and the gingerbread house. In fact, the rotting woman of room 237 seems to fill the role of the child-eating witch, the room itself having colors and patterns vaguely similar to candies.

# The tour of the kitchen has another set of architectural and logical incoherence: observe carefully the doors to the storage rooms as the characters open and close them, as they step in and out of the rooms. You will realize that the doors keep changing sides, both in their ways of opening/closing and their location across the hallways.

 # In terms of cinematographic language, not only are whistling/piercing sounds a hint at psychic abilities being used, but the close-up on people’s faces is also a key element. Every time Danny uses his powers there is a close-up on his face (when he has visions, when he sees ghosts, when he talks with Halloran). Similarly every time Halloran transmits or receives a psychic message there is a close-up on his face, and it is quite important to notice it because as Jack falls more and more for the hotel’s evil influence, the same close-ups can be noticed.

# When I mentioned the Native American influence was everywhere from the décor to the music, I can add that the subtle commentary (well not so subtle when you actually look into it deeper) goes as far as the kitchen scene. When Halloran uses his shine, you can note right alongside his head several boxes of “Calumet baking powder” with a stereotypical “Native American head” on it.

# The green corridors that go out of the kitchen into more of the “backstage” of the hotel are the first strong manifestation of the green palette of the hotel (already seen before with tables in the game room and Gold Room, and soon to be seen in the 237 bathroom). Of course, no need to say that the line “Just like a ghost ship, huh” is a very obvious foreshadowing.

 # You can truly appreciate the shot of Danny speaking to Halloran: above Danny’s head you can see all of the knives, all pointed towards the boy’s cranium. It is a perfect visual clue to reveal that the hotel is already hostile towards Danny and will try to make him its next victim.

# It is quite interesting to note that Kubrick reused the topic of how the shine could allow one to see both things that haven’t happened yet and things that happened “a long time ago”. The shine can reach into far future and far past, but you are never quite sure which is which: Kubrick took back this confusion between past and future for the ending of the movie.

# Fun fact that mostly everybody knows: in the novel, the forbidden room is the room 217. Kubrick had to change the room’s number to 237 because the Timberline Lodge had a room 217 and feared that people would refuse to sleep in it after the movie’s release.

 Next: A MONTH LATER

[squirrelly831]

Proposal [Mark and Jaebum]

Remember how it was noted that Jaebum almost lost Yuna? Well this was one of the two times. The first was when she wouldn't even give him a chance to date her. This includes some angst, but not enough to have a trigger (: just a good old punch in the face (don't really punch your friend in the face--unless they deserve it) (:

xoxo

Mark

Christmas was Marcie’s and Mark’s favorite time of year. Not only was it near their anniversary since they began to date, but it was a time they both got to see their families for a big reunion. Christmas in LA was always fun for them as their families would spend the day together as a happy family for the past four years. However, this year, the families spent Christmas in snowy Colorado at Marcie’s and Mark’s vacation home. To Mark and Marcie, family was important which was why they were so important with their next step.

Mark had planned proposing to Marcie for the past six months with the help of their parents. Marcie was on an expedition in the United Kingdom and was due to conclude it a week before Christmas. The distance was what made Mark more sure of proposing. Being away from Marcie was normal in their relationship due to their jobs, but he hated being home alone. Mark also feared that one day, Marcie may realize how much better she was without him and leave him.

Marcie was getting out of the airport with her cart of luggage from her several month long trip. She tucked herself deeper into her winter coat as she looked for her family. Her body was sore from all the bending and digging, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction as they may have discovered more history about Stonehenge.

“Ciecie!”

Her head whipped around to see Mark with a giant poster with her parents and his. Forgetting her bags, she ran up to Mark and threw her arms around Mark’s neck. Her father retrieved her bags as Mark held her tightly in his arms taking in her scent. Marcie loved the adventure her work gave her, but she loved her home with Mark so much more. “I love you” she whispered in the crook of his neck.

“I love you more” he kissed her head before she pulled back and he gave her a kiss on the lips.

The family spent the week before Christmas catching up with Mark and Marcie as well as McKenzie and Changkyun who had stopped in to visit and announce their wedding plans for the following year. Marcie was asked to be McKenzie’s maid of honor which Marcie immediately accepted while Changkyun asked Mark to be one of his best men which he readily agreed. Due to the wedding announcement, Mark debated on proposing after their news, but with a push from both their parents and McKenzie’s not so subtle threat, he pushed forward.

Christmas Eve, the families attended church so that Christmas Day, they could spend it together. Everyone was opening presents dressed casually minus Mark and Marcie who had plans afterwards to go celebrate their anniversary. Done with the presents, the parents cleaned up the wrapping paper and subtly moved as McKenzie grabbed her phone and hit record. Mark and Marcie were the only ones by the Christmas tree and Mark couldn’t help the smile that grazed his lips.

Marcie stood to move, but he caught her hand stopping her as he reached for the final present, “This one is for you from me.” A blush crossed his face as Marcie took the small bag.

Cooly she pulled out the gift paper and found a jewelry box. She smiled expecting another ring or earring to add to the collection Mark had already given her. However, when she flipped open the box, she let out a gasp before looking at Mark who was kneeling before her.

Mark cleared his throat as he felt nervous. “I found the reason for my smile, the day I met you. You complete me, make me, and fulfil me. So will you marry me, Marcie Delilah Addington?”

Marcie’s shaky hand was over her mouth as tears fell down her face. Words would not form and she nodded her head. Mark stood up and took the ring out the box and placed it on Marcie’s finger as the family cheered. He wiped her face of the fallen tears before he kissed her.

Jaebum

To say Jaebum took Yuna for granted was an understatement. It’s not that he meant it on purpose, but he was so used to her being there by his side. At least she had been until she walked out the door of their shared apartment with a small bag of clothes. The slamming of the door was the only noise that was made. Jaebum sat on the couch unmoved from his position. The emotions in him swirled, anger, sadness, betrayal, but most importantly emptiness. Yuna walked out on him. The woman he promised his life to stabbed him in the back-- and it was all his fault.

Yuna wiped a tear off her cheek as she tried to maintain her calm exterior. She was broken inside, but as she walked down the hall past the neighbors she sure heard their shouting match--she held her head up high. She wouldn’t cry. Not there where people would judge her. Where people would assume he left her. Paparazzi would eat up that story and his fans would believe it as they have always hated her. The elevator opened and shut once she was inside. When she was finally alone, her tears spilled and she let out a sob down ten floors of their apartment complex. Her heart felt like it was being ripped apart as she descended down to the main lobby. When she was free from the elevator, she fled no longer caring for the stares of others as she raced out to her car.

A week of silence from Jaebum is what led the others to investigate starting at his apartment. Mark punched in the code to the apartment and opened the door to darkness. The guys rushed inside and saw Jaebum on the couch fast asleep with his phone clutched in his hand. “Jae?” Mark approached him and gave him a shake.

Jaebum shot up, “Yuna!” He exclaimed but his sadness returned when he saw the guys, “It’s just you guys.”

“Just us?” Jinyoung’s eyebrow rose, “You haven’t answered our texts in over a week and that’s your response to us?”

Jaebum rubbed his eyes, “That’s not what I meant… I just--I expected Yuna to come home and she hasn’t.” The men went silent and tension rose. “She left me” Jaebum explained, causing them to exhale as they had feared something had happened to her.

“Why? Out of all of us, we wouldn’t have expected you two to break up?”

Jaebum felt a wave of guilt, “It’s my fault… I told her I didn’t need a paper to tell me we were in love--”

“Oh no you didn’t” the guys groaned their complaints. “Why would you tell her that? She’s been waiting to be your wife since well forever!” Bambam huffed.

“I know, I didn’t think of that when I said it. Of course, I wanna marry her, but we’re so young…”

“Have you even proposed to her?” Mark countered and Jaebum fell silent. A deafening answer to them and they shook their heads. “You haven’t even bothered to make your relationship serious, dude. No wonder she left.”

Jaebum jumped from the couch and caught Mark by his collar, “I AM SERIOUS ABOUT HER!”

Mark swatted his hands off him as his anger grew, “Really? Where? Fuck, Jaebum we’re all engaged or married and you’re still fucking dating.”

“I know that. I was just waiting for the right time to propose…”

Mark gestured around the dark room, “I say the perfect time has sailed. She’s gone, Jaebum. And instead of going after her, you let her walk out!”

“I KNOW--”

Mark swung at Jaebum, punching him in the jaw. The others reacted as BamBam and Yugyeom grabbed Mark from swinging again while Youngjae and Jackson rushed to Jaebum’s side and Jinyoung stood between them. “Stop moping around and fucking do something.” Mark easily shoved Bambam and Yugyeom off him and he turned to leave. “Get your head out your ass. You aren’t the only one remotely suffering.”

Mark left, leaving the others and Jaebum alone. Jaebum’s hand cradled his jaw as his other hand clenched, “I know he’s right.. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I think you do know what to do, hyung,” Yugyeom replied. And the truth was Jaebum did know but was terrified.

Another week had gone by before Yuna heard any word from Jaebum asking to meet him in their favorite spot--the hill that had a view of the sky. At first, Yuna was going to chuck the letter and tell him to go to hell, but she missed him. Maybe she had over reacted that they were still just boyfriend and girlfriend. Yes, she wanted to be his wife. She loved him so of course she wanted to marry him. She reluctantly gathered herself and got her makeup on before she headed out to the meeting place.

Jaebum checked his watch again for the hundredth time as he moved the bundle of pink roses in his hand. A throat cleared and his head shot up to see Yuna in one of her favorite sweaters and skirts. He had a chance to make up with her! Had this been a breakup, Yuna would have gone a full 9 yards to show what he was losing--something she had done with men who never had the fortunate chance to be with her. The words he had practiced for over a week were gone as he stared at his girlfriend.

“Well? I didn’t come here to be stared at” Yuna scowled. “I was going to meet up with the real estate agent” she lied. She saw the flicker of hurt in Jaebum’s eyes and she began to feel guilt build, but she shook it off. We’re not staying with him if he won’t look to a future with us, she coached herself as she crossed her arms.

Jaebum bit his lower lip as he held out the flowers, “I just wanted to talk to you…” Yuna took the roses and pressed them to her. “You were right.”

“About?”

“Everything. How I was selfish about not wanting to get married and how I only thought of myself.” His hands felt clammy as he tried to speak. “You chased after me for so long and compared to that, the amount of chasing I’ve done has been nothing. But I love you, you have to know tha--”

Yuna pushed her hair off her shoulder, “It’s not enough.”

Jaebum’s shoulders slumped, “I know... “

“You can love me now and eventually find another woman who you love more. Someone you’d want to start a family with. I could be too annoying to be a wife to you…”

Jaebum’s eyes met her in a panic, “I was a kid when I said that. I never--” No, back then he meant it.

Yuna took a seat on the bench as Jaebum watched her, “It’s stupid. We were kids, but to have the guy you were obsessed with at one point to say that to you, even as a kid, is a hit to your ego. Who’s to say you wouldn’t feel that way again?” Yuna sighed. “Maybe we should just call it quits? With GOT7 and your work, doing this” she swung her finger between the two of them “is just going to make your work so much harder.”

She gave him one of her fake smiles and Jaebum wanted to scream. He saw the pain he brought her, the uncertainty she had due to him unable to make them official. Jaebum knew this was more than something he said as a child. This was her love language, she needed action. Words only meant so much to her compared to actions and Jaebum failed. “Don’t you see, you leaving me will make my life harder” he shook his head, “I wouldn’t be able to function without you.” Yuna sighed as she went to stand, but Jaebum placed his hand on her shoulder as he knelt in front of her. “I know I suck sometimes. I don’t show you that you’re the only one for me, but you have to believe me when I say that. You’re as important to me as the boys if not more.” He pulled out a ring box from his pockets and opened it. Yuna’s eyes widened as a gasp escaped her lips. “And I know this is a pretty shitty way to propose, but I had to show you that you are the only one I want. Mook Yuna, will you marry me?”

Yuna’s eyes watered as she looked from Jaebum to the ring. “Idiot…” Jaebum chuckled as he took out the ring and placed it on her finger. “You’re such an idiot.”

Jaebum pulled her into his arms as she cried. Her fist hit him in the chest a couple of times before it stilled and her left hand wrapped around his neck. “I still need an answer.”

“You wanna die? You put me through all this stress and you want an answer?” She pulled back with anger in her eyes. “I should kill you! I’ve lost years off my life because of you. You sho--”

“Oh shut up” Jaebum rolled his eyes playfully as he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers to silence her complaints. He could have sworn she cursed him under her breath, but when she kissed him back he knew he got the answer he needed.

Part II || Part III

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

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[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter One

Summary: Nesta up and moved the minute she graduated high school. Now, seven years later, her father has died. After years of separation, Nesta is now living in the same city as her sisters, with Elain as her roommate. Feyre introduces Elain and Nesta to the Inner Circle. But they're missing a certain member... Cassian returns to the Marine Corps to find two new members of the Inner Circle. He pushes Nesta's buttons more than anyone ever has. Cue heavy angst, mutual pining, and a very, very slow burn. Note: So I’m reposting this because I made a lot of changes to the fic and just wanted to start fresh. I had deleted the last things I posted for it, but now it’s officially here! I also just uploaded it on AO3 too, and you can read chapter one here! Warnings: heavy angst Bittersweet Masterlist

June

Nesta was accepted into graduate school today, and she didn’t know whether to cry or smile.

To throw a pity party or a celebration.

To be or not to be.

She was trifling through her mail this morning when she saw the large envelope with the words ‘Prythian University’ printed front and center. She wasted no time ripping it open, and a gasp left her mouth when she read the first sentence.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Master’s program of English at Prythian University.

She had grabbed her phone to tell someone about the news, but her smile quickly faded when she realized she had no one to call, no one to celebrate with. No one to tell her, “I’m proud of you.”

Nesta had scrolled through her contact list, which consisted of only fourteen people. Fourteen people and not one of them close enough with her to warrant such a text. Heart sinking in her chest, Nesta slammed her phone on the coffee table and fell on the couch. A lump formed in her throat, but she refused to let a single tear shed.

But she was in no position to complain. Nesta chose to move away. She chose to be alone. She was the only person to blame for her own unhappiness.  

Nesta had lived in the dreary state of Massachusetts since she graduated high school, leaving her family behind in Maine. The place that conjured nightmares, that was teeming with ghosts. Every corner she turned in her hometown, she was met face to face with her past – the one she so desperately tried to forget. Her family had lived there since Nesta was born. They didn’t have the funds to move to a better town or a bigger house. Up to this point, Nesta’s entire life happened in that horrible town.

Her younger sister, Elain, cried when Nesta announced her decision to move to Massachusetts for college. Feyre’s eyes remained dry, but she wished Nesta good luck.

Nesta and her two sisters had been close as little girls. Sure, they were wildly different from each other – Elain was intelligent and soft-spoken, Feyre creative and stubborn, Nesta hot-headed and brash. They argued. They resented each other in ways sisters did. But they looked out for each other. Since Nesta was just five years old, she did everything she could to protect her sisters, whether they knew it or not.

When Nesta was just fourteen years old, their mother left them. She walked out of the door forever, and everything changed. Elain was crushed but she continued to look out for their father, whose depression worsened when his wife left without saying goodbye. Feyre took her absence the hardest. She had the closest relationship with their mother as the baby of the family, relying on her more than her other sisters. Feyre was the last one to see her. Apparently, their mother made her promise to look out for the rest of the family. She said Feyre was the only one who could do it. And because Feyre was stubborn to a fault, she kept that promise every damned day.

And Nesta? Nesta was relieved and confused and angry and heartbroken. She still was.

So, when Nesta left for college, she promised that she would keep in touch with Elain and Feyre. They all promised. However, they inevitably got busy with their own lives and grew apart. When Elain graduated high school just two years after Nesta, she chose to remain in Maine to tend to their sick father. She attended community college, even though she’d dreamed of being a pediatrician since she was just nine years old. She sacrificed her opportunity for a higher education, and Nesta admired her for that. At the same time, however, she also wanted more for her sister. She had a habit of being too selfless. Always giving, never receiving.

Just a year later, Feyre became the last to graduate. She too flew from the nest, heading west to Colorado. Nesta wasn’t the only one who had a distaste for their hometown. Feyre was born an adventurer. She wants to explore, create, travel. More importantly, Feyre was doing something for herself. Feyre had assumed the role of provider when their mother left them in their youth. At only thirteen, she managed to find a job, and continued to do so until she was eighteen. Feyre had grand plans to visit every New England state during her high school career. She wouldn’t shut up about the places she would see, the people she would meet.

Feyre didn’t stepped foot outside of Maine until she graduated.

The only person Nesta completely cut loose was her father. Elain and Feyre had tried to rationalize with her about this many times, but Nesta put an end to every discussion.

Elain was very close with their father. Feyre was neutral. Nesta resented him. She knew they judged her for that, even if it wasn’t explicitly said. She also understood their reasoning.

They just didn’t understand hers.

Last Nesta heard, Feyre had found her niche at college. Back when they called more often, she had gushed about her new friends and latest conquest. His name was Rhysand (to which Nesta sniggered – who named their child that?), and the pair had recently begun dating after a year of pining for one another. Nesta told her that their love story sounded like the kind of fanfiction she (shamefully) loved. From what Feyre told her, it sounded like she was head over heels, despite her sarcastic deflections.

That was two years ago.

Of course, Nesta had spoken to both her sisters since then. It was rare for them to call, but they would share occasional text conversations. Just last month, Nesta texted Feyre to congratulate her on graduating Summa Cum Laude. It didn’t go much beyond that, though.

Nesta and Elain’s text message history was quite sad to look through. Once a month, Elain would send her an update on their father’s wellbeing. Nesta would not respond. The next month, she would receive another update. No response.

It never angered Nesta to see those texts; it only saddened her.

Elain wore her heart on her sleeve, ever the peacemaker in the family. Her intentions were pure, but she didn’t know the story of Nesta and their father’s relationship. She’d asked, but Nesta was always quick to shut her down.

Despite their one-sided texting, Elain called Nesta every couple of months. It was awkward, but it warmed Nesta’s heart to hear her sister’s voice. Their calls never lasted more than ten minutes, Nesta the one to end the conversation. When they hung up, however, guilt crushed her. Nesta was slowly losing everyone she loved, and it was entirely her fault.

After Nesta had gotten her undergraduate degree in Massachusetts, she worked at two minimum wage jobs for three years to save up enough money to pay for grad school (along with several loans). Her first choice, Prythian University, happened to be just outside of Boulder, the town where Feyre was living. It was also one of the best graduate schools for an English degree in the country.

Nesta considered telling Feyre her news. Obviously, she had to share it at some point. But anxiety crept into her chest whenever she picked up her phone to tell her. What if Feyre wasn’t happy about it? What if she didn’t want Nesta living near her? She had created her own life in a new state. Nesta couldn’t just interrupt after years of shutting her out.

After spending the entire day overthinking, Nesta decided to venture downtown in the evening for a small, lonesome celebration. She would treat herself to a drink (or two), go home, and read a romance novel or two while Iroh, her black, grumpy cat, snuggled in her lap.

So, there she was. Sitting at the local bar, legs crossed as she people watched. Nesta had even dressed up for the occasion. She wore a dress that fell to her ankles, the forest green color complimenting her golden-brown hair. Her arm sleeve tattoo was on full display, and her other ink that disappeared beneath her dress. Dark kohl coated her eyes with a smokey finish.

The bar itself was a welcoming environment. String lights latticed the ceiling, the bulbs providing dim lighting for those who had secrets to keep. Wooden tables faced a small stage at the opposite end of the building – presumably where they held open mic nights. Dark oak walls were plastered with photographs, license plates, and other décor.

It being a Tuesday night, there weren’t many people out. Nesta noticed a couple middle-aged men drinking beers together, an older couple sitting close in a booth, and a small group of what looked like college aged women. Smiles were etched on all their faces. Nesta lifted her hand to touch the frown she wore. It only deepened.

Just be happy for once, Nesta thought to herself.

As the bartender refilled her gin and tonic, someone approached the barstool to her left. Nesta glanced sideway to discover a young man with a hard face. He looked about her age with dark hair and a tanned complexion. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. Removing his leather jacket, he revealed the fitted shirt he wore, which clung a body that screamed “I go to the gym every day.” Before he sat next to her, the man dropped a duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud.

He didn’t seem to notice her as he flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink. His voice was low, tired. She recognized the sound. It was the sound of someone who was exhausted, and not just in the physical sense.

“Running away from home?” Nesta asked. The man turned his head to find her gesturing to his oversized bag.

Why did I just say that? she asked herself. Nesta rarely made conversation, much less with some stranger at a bar. It was abundantly clear that she had certainly drunk enough alcohol to wash away any and all inhibitions.

He chuckled. “Something like that.” The man peered at her closer. His hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lights as he inspected her. “Bad day?”

“Care to elaborate?”

A sober Nesta would have shut him down before he had the chance to even ask. A sober Nesta wouldn’t have even made conversation with this dark, handsome man.

Alas, she was three drinks down and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I got into my dream school,” she started. “It has a really great grad program. When I read the letter, I reached for my phone to tell someone. Only, I realized I had no one to call. I… I realized that I’m all on my own.”

He stared at her for a moment. “That’s quite a feat. You should be proud.”

Nesta shrugged, uncomfortable with the man’s genuine tone. She never figured out how to tolerate a compliment, much less accept it.

They fell silent before he spoke again.

“I’m about to be on my own, too,” he confessed, focusing his attention on his calloused hands that rested on the counter. “And I don’t know how to feel either.”

No wonder he looks so exhausted, Nesta thought. She could see the conflict in his body language, his tone. War was waging in the stranger’s eyes, and it didn’t seem like the first time he’d gone to battle.

She wanted to ask where he was going. What was in his bag. Who he was leaving behind. But Nesta only nodded with understanding.

I see you.

In that moment, they formed some sort of kinship. They weren’t just two strangers at the bar. It was longing, Nesta realized. Longing for a connection, a companionship. To escape from the perpetual loneliness.

They stared at each other until the man broke his gaze when he checked his watch. He cursed.

“I have to leave now if I want to catch the bus,” he explained. Nesta watched him down the rest of his drink and stand up.

“Good luck,” Nesta said feebly as he shrugged on his jacket.

She wanted to say more. He seemed to need it… and so did she. “Whenever you get lonely, just remember that strange girl at the bar. She’ll be thinking about you.”

His face softened. “Good luck,” he whispered.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'California Dreamin'' : New chapter for "Always for the greater cause..." is out !

Chapter Summary: Now with Wraith leading the team while Stitch is going back to Europe with Naga & Jackal, Bell & the others are moving to their new destination: Los Angeles

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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27th February 1981, 12h50

Yirina 'Bell' Grigoriev, Ex-KGB, Perseus

Perseus safehouse "Wolf's Den" in Colorado Springs, preparing to leave

At looking at myself, I could have said that I was in great shape but that would be a lie since my right shoulder was mostly hurting me with all the bandages, and having felt that bullet inside of it, that ain't the best feeling to experiment but anyway, I was able to get up from the bed, taking care of not making any bad moves with my right arm, knowing that I could hurt myself more than the bullet did. Dressing up was a bit of a challenge but it was good to do.

However, at the moment that I came out of the bedroom to join the others in the main room of the place that they were already preparing to leave, gathering around what they needed and even in my state, I managed to give a little bit of help, putting some files in the boxes that they were going to put in the car that, according to what Wraith...Uhm, Freya said to me when I propose to help, we were going to use to reach Los Angeles, a big road trip to the city of angels.

This Aldrich that I didn't speak with a lot since I'm here was already gone, having taken a part of our intel with me to prepare a safe house near Los Angeles and it took us at least 30 minutes, adding to the fact that we ate to fill up the car with our work and our equipment in the trunk before we were free to go.

"Finally, I'm sure that the West Coast is going to be better than here," Bellamy said as we were walking out of the safehouse, Freya staying behind us as she was going to close down the place until some Perseus take it for their own purposes.

"Yeah, we'll see that," Knight mumbled at him, walking to reach the car.

"We have at least 15 hours of driving to reach Los Angeles and I will take the hardest part of the job," Freya spoke up, getting her hand up to close down the garage door of the warehouse. "I'll be driving," She revealed, having volunteered to be the one driving us to our destination.

"You're sure about it?" I asked, giving a little concern about that.

"Well sure, Bell," She responded, going back up on her feet to look at me as I was having my hand on the door of the front passenger seat. "Can't let some...people take over," She added, his eyes drifting towards Bellamy & Knight. "I'm talking about you two,"

"Come on, we didn't do anything," Bellamy protested against her, stopping to enter the car behind the driver seat as Freya passed through him to reach her door.

"Yet...anything yet," Freya whispered to herself but loud enough for us to hear it perfectly and not taking care of it before we all got inside the car: Freya driving the car, me on the front passenger seat, Knight right behind me while Bellamy was next to him and behind Freya.

"Do I need to move my seat?" I demanded to Knight, turning my head around to look at him, knowing that he was a tough guy.

"No, it's good, Bell, thanks for asking," He answered, giving me a smile as I turned around again to put my seatbelt on.

"Of course she had to ask that," Bellamy scoffed, using a joking voice and Freya's reaction was to roll her eyes around. "Tough Irish guy," He added.

"And you, don't have any problem being like me, it seems," Knight joked, Freya, letting out a sigh at this remark and me laughing inside of me at that funny situation.

"Oh my god, I didn't even turn the keys that you already start your usual things, you two," Freya decided to speak up about it and she was true, the car didn't even move one inch that their argument began...that's going to be a hell of a road trip. "If you two continue, you're going to Los Angeles by walk," She warned the two with a voice that I couldn't know if it was serious, funny, or threatening, she was hard to understand here.

"Yes, ma'am," Bellamy sighed, turning his head to look outside, his hands on his lap.

"Good, we can go now," Freya then could turn the keys to start the car engine and to finally move the car away, driving out of the place before reaching the main road, engaging the car on it, and starting our road trip to California.

The first hour of the driving was pretty calm for me and the others too, no one was actually willing to talk or launching any topics and it was sure that I wasn't going to be the one doing that because I couldn't know what I could talk about: me & my past? Can't remember because of gasps in my memories, only remembering what happening in Rebirth Island. No, I should maybe stay silent, maybe think freely while the music on the radio was on....that was good music to hear, changing from the one that we heard back at the safehouse in East-Berlin from Bellamy's radio.

"You're alright, Bell?" Freya's voice broke me out of my thoughts, making me move on my seat to be better on it.

"Uhm, yeah, I'm good," I replied, shaking my head a bit and scratching my jaw with my left hand. "Just been daydreaming," I clarified myself, only giving me a smile while staying focused on the road.

"Good, you should take some rest, the road will be long," She advised me in a good voice but I don't know if taking a rest was a good idea for me.

"You're sure? I just slept for half a day and you want me to sleep again?" I asked her, looking outside the car to see a signpost saying that we were soon going to arrive in Denver. "No, I should get some sleep only when we'll arrive in California," I told her, passing my hand through my red hair, removing the part of it in front of my face as it wasn't looking great today.

"And now, it's time for a song for every big dreamer..." The voice of a woman on the radio spoke up, announcing something on it. "It's time for a little...'California Dreamin'," She announced in a happy voice before I start to hear some guitars, beginning an unknown song for me.

"What's that song?" I demanded at Freya, sounding very curious about it as the lyrics were...nice to hear.

"You didn't hear it, Bell?" Bellamy scoffed again, hearing his voice after one hour of silence from him. "It's 'California Dreamin'" He revealed to me after I turned my head around to look at him, seeing him stretch his arm in front of him. "You should turn it off, Wraith, people are sleeping here," He suggested.

"No, let it on," I said, stopping Freya that was going to comply with his demands as the song was a bit intriguing to me, liking the lyrics and having a little feeling of having heard it before. "I like it,"

"Maybe that you like it but I want to close my eyes and sleep," Bellamy protested, hearing a little click from his seat before seeing his left hand moving between mine & Freya's seat.

"Hey, back off, Bellamy," Freya suddenly move her right hand to tip it over his hand, making him go back on his seat and putting his seatbelt on. "If Bell wants to keep it on, I'll keep it on," She affirmed clearly to him, causing me to smile about it as I was enjoying the song as if it was making myself free to dream and think. "Just sleep with it, end of the argument," She told him, getting her hand back on the steering wheel.

"Thanks, Freya," I whispered to her, having turned my head to her a bit and immediately seeing her blush on her cheeks at hearing her name before I put my head against my seat to look outside, seeing the landscape and the city in the horizon, the song on the radio making me want to sleep and dream about being free and our destination in California...If I was in LA...If I was in LA...

California dreaming...On such a winter's day...

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

27th February 1981, 15h35

Vikhor 'Stitch' Kuzmin, Perseus

In a Perseus C-130 Hercules cargo plane over the Atlantic Ocean

Been asked to Solovetsky...that was new from Perseus himself, the first time he's been doing that with me. It's always by a phone call that we were discussing and the last time I talked to him personally, it was the day our asset opened its eyes. Since that day, I focused on working my ass with my team to do what we needed to do while he was waiting for us to do the dirty job...I hope that the reason that he wants to see him is very important.

Right now, I was trying to take some rest but having Naga & Jackal talking and playing again with their cards at the other side of the plane, the latter looking rather happy to be going to the Yamantau despite been at first confused about it when Jackal proposed him & Naga for that while at my feet near me, there were none other than Krypto themselves, still alive but crying, hopefully having a tape over their mouth but even with that, it wasn't going to let me have a bit of rest, adding to that, the plane engines making noises & the turbulences.

"Boom, bullshit, Kapano," Jackal exclaimed in a loud voice as he raised his own pack of cards in his hands, I who was watching them with a blank stare to get on sleep but hearing him didn't help. "Told you that I could beat you," He added.

"How it's possible that you beat me in every game, dammit?" Naga protested, making gestures with his hands towards Jackal. "Arm wrestling, poker, and now that stupid 'Bullshit' game?" He then throw his own pack of cards in the space separating the two as they were on the same bench.

"Come on, that's just a friendly game," Jackal said, sliding slightly behind him on the bench.

"Oh yeah? You're beating me on every game, that ain't very friendly from you," Naga argued, crossing his arms as I could see his eyes narrow in Jackal's direction.

"Are you a bad loser, Naga?" Jackal asked him, a questioning tone in his voice.

"Hey, you two!" I called out the two, taking a higher voice than them, annoyed by that stupid argument. "I'm not on that plane to see another duo like Bellamy & Knight to shout & bark at each other," I told them, keeping a serious voice. "So, you either keep your voice down that I can't even hear them or you shut your mouths completely," I ordered, feeling the angriness in my voice against them as the two were confused at me.

"What's got into you?" Naga demanded, raising his left eyebrow at me. "Are you not into the plane type or...not just in the mood?" He added.

"It happens that I'm a bit on the nerves actually," I replied, putting my hands on the side of the bench, starting to hold it firmly with them. "Having you both acting like a child every day, playing your little games, and talking about non-senses isn't really helping the Collective," I continued my vent against them, having enough of the two behaviors. "I didn't choose you two because one of you is always winning games and the other is always complaining,"

"Of course..." Naga muttered, still sounding trying to understand why I was like that.

"Listen, I have enough of seeing people that aren't focused on the mission," I clarified.

"Hey, you know that even if we're mercenaries working for Perseus, we don't have to be having a finger on the trigger every day," Jackal spoke up, turning his body around to face me, seeing his eyes behind his red mask going wide...a deadly glare meeting mine, scary for the others but not for me. "I ain't going to have my hands on a gun every second of my life so if we want to have a little distraction, so be it!" He affirmed, pointing at me with his left finger before I could feel something touching my feet and I peeked my eyes slightly to see Krypto trying to struggle with their links, hands & legs tied up as they were on the floor, looking at the two other mercenaries direction.

"Mmmhmm...mmhmm..." That's all we could hear from them, their muffling sounds through their tape coming from their mouth interrupting the argument as everyone got their eyes on them.

"Seems that they want to talk," Naga mumbled, gesturing with his left hand towards Zasha.

"What do they fucking want?" I sighed, rolling my eye around before I moved away from my seat to reach them, kneeling on my right knee at their face level to remove by force the tape on their mouth. "I hope that you got something interesting to say," I started, taking a serious breath at their face, looking terrified at my sight.

"Where...where...where are you taking me?" They asked me but my reaction was to get my right hand on their neck, finding them already worth killing, not wanting to let that pleasure to our agents in London.

"Sending you in a diplomatic bag to your little Crown," I responded, seeing their blue eyes starting to cry, my hand enforcing the hold on their neck to make sure that their actions were marked and not forgotten. "You see, we have enough of seeing you around, always been useless since the start," I observed them cry slowly, tears falling down their eyes.

"I...please...Stitch..." They tried to say but my hand was avoiding them to speak normally so I decided to let them breathe freely for a little second before they took the bad decision to spit right on my face, getting me angry on the inside for a bit and keeping my calm, their spit landing right on my cheeks. "Fuck...you!" They cursed.

"Fuck me?" I repeated before I put my hand on their neck, holding their head against the ground. "You want me to go fuck myself, Krypto?" I asked but I didn't want any response from them as I took my combat knife strapped at my vest after I dressed back into my former military clothes. "See that?" I showed them the knife in my left hand before the other hand move near their right eye. "That's for your Crown:" I then do what I always wanted to do with them.

I didn't let them think for one second that I planted the end of the knife into their right eye, hearing a loud & painfully scream inside the whole plane as I was turning the knife around the eye, wanting to make them scream even further before I stop by myself, seeing them with only one eye left and still crying loudly as I moved back on my seat, Jackal & Naga speechless at my actions, their eyes looking towards Zasha.

"What? Something's wrong with you?" I asked the two, cleaning up the end of the knife from the blood on the bench.

"We should help them for the moment," Naga proposed, slowly pointing at Zasha who was trying to move their hands from their back to hold their head.

"Yes, why don't you get on it now?" I said, gesturing towards the first aid kit that was on their side of the plane, not wanting to get my own hands dirty with their blood and Jackal was the first to react, going up from his seat to grab the kit and move to join Zasha, taking out some bandages and disinfectant as Naga moved to help him to heal Krypto while I continued to watch them...

"Now, I hope that's a clear message for you two & everyone else: cross me...and it will be a big mistake from you!"

[adiwriting]

Fic: Navigate the Stars

Fandom: Roswell New Mexico

Pairing: Malex (Michael Guerin/Alex Manes)

Notes: Still trying to figure out Michael and Alex’s voices, but I’m getting there. 

Prompt: Getting lost somewhere

----

“Can’t you like, navigate us home by the stars or some shit?” 

“Why? Because I’m part Navajo?” Alex asks, annoyed. “Sure. Let me just do a rain dance, smoke the peace pipe, and build us a tepee while we’re at it.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Michael says with a dramatic sigh and a roll of his eyes. “I just meant, didn’t they train you for this kind of shit in the military?” 

Alright, that’s fair. The Air Force did indeed train him for this exact kind of situation. Not that Alex will tell Michael that. 

“I cannot believe you got us lost,” is what Alex says instead. 

“This is why I don’t do nice things for you,” Michael grumbles and Alex can just feel Michael’s rant coming. 

“I’m sorry, nice things?” he scoffs. Were they or were they not lost in the middle of the desert instead of cuddled up on the couch with Netflix? 

“Why don’t you ever take me anywhere nice, Michael? Why don’t we do more things together, Michael?” 

“Don’t even start with me,” Alex groans. “At what point did I ever give you the impression that this was what I wanted?” 

“You literally shoved all of Max and Liz’s camping pictures in my face the other day,” Michael complains. “Kept going on and on about romance. Of course I thought that this was what you wanted.” 

“I am about to ship off for six months to a country that has no established base. I am going to be camping for god knows how long until we can get shit set up. Why on Earth would I want to spend my last weekend with my boyfriend in the middle of the desert?” 

“Fine, your boyfriend’s a fuck up. What do you want me to say?” Michael says, and the sad look on his face has Alex turning away. He’s not ready to give up his anger just yet. 

“Oh my god, this is not getting us anywhere,” Alex grumbles as he looks up at the stars and tries to remember which constellations he’s supposed to be looking for to guide them back to camp. The last time he did this, he was on the other side of the world. 

Michael sighs and throws his stuff on the ground, clearly giving up on them ever finding their way back. 

“What are you really mad at?” Michael asks him. 

“You!” He’d thought that much was obvious. 

“No. No. See, you do this every time,” Michael says. “Every damn time you’ve been deployed, you find a reason to be mad at me. A reason to push me away before you leave. I thought we were done with this. When we got back together, you promised me that you were past this shit.” 

“When we got back together I didn’t think I was going to get deployed again did I?” he practically yells, annoyed that Michael would even bring that up again. Didn’t they also promise each other to stop bringing up their past mistakes and move forward? 

“Why are you yelling at me?” Michael asks, and the sadness in his voice only fuels Alex’s anger. 

This is so fucking stupid.

“I’m missing a leg!” he yells, because he can. Because nobody else is around to overhear them. “When I reenlisted to keep you all safe, I was missing a leg. I literally thought I was safe from being deployed to a potential war zone, because I’m disabled. But no, some idiots had to go champion for disabled rights and now I’m apparently the only person with the proper expertise for this deployment. It’s bullshit. I’ve served enough!” 

“Okay,” Michael says, too calmly for Alex’s taste.  

“Haven’t I already given enough for this fucking country?” 

“Okay,” Michael says again, standing up to walk over to him with his arms up in surrender. 

“It’s utter bullshit!” 

“Okay,” he says, wrapping Alex in a hug. 

“Stop saying that!” he argues, refusing to hug him back. He’s not in the mood to be soothed. He wants to yell and scream and break things. 

“O— Sorry,” Michael says. 

They both fall quiet and Michael continues to hold him while Alex’s anger calms. 

“I don’t want to go,” Alex whispers, scared to put that out there. He’s an airman. Airmen accept the deployments handed to them with pride, ready to serve and protect. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Michael whispers back. 

He wraps his arms around Michael’s hips and lays his head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Michael’s hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. He’s going to miss this. He fought so hard to finally have this, and now he’s terrified of losing it. 

“We could run away,” Michael says softly. “They can’t make you do this.” 

“And go AWOL?” Alex says, taking a moment to contemplate the idea. He’d never do that. Michael knows he’d never do that. Still, it’s a nice fantasy. “Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere. You know I’ve never seen anything outside of New Mexico,” he says. ���We could go visit Max and Liz in California.” 

“LA?” Alex says with disgust. “Pass.” 

“We could get a place up in the mountains. Colorado maybe?” Michael suggests. “You were saying that you missed living in Jim Valenti’s cabin.” 

“Is this your way of telling me that you’re finally ready to move in together?” Alex asks. 

“Move in together?” Michael scoffs. “I already sleep at your place every night of the week. Just because I haven’t sold my airstream—” 

“Doesn’t mean that you’re not committed, I know,” Alex finishes for him. 

They’ve already had this discussion numerous times. Alex wants Michael to sell the airstream and put the money towards something for himself. School. Starting his own business. Something. The airstream is just sitting there, not being used. Meanwhile, Michael doesn’t have the finances to do any of the things he claims he wants to do with his life. 

At least… that’s Alex’s argument to Michael. Secretly, he’s a lot more selfish in his dislike of the airstream. Alex hates the idea that Michael has such an easy out of their relationship. That at any given time, he could just pack up and leave because he has somewhere else to go. 

But he gets it. Michael grew up without a home for so long and he saved up for a long time to have something he could buy outright. Something that nobody would ever be able to take away from him. Alex gets why Michael feels the need to hang onto that. He doesn’t like it, but he gets it. 

The two of them fall into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable. Alex is enjoying just being with Michael. 

“Do you really think it’s wrong for disabled men to get deployed?” Michael asks. 

“No,” Alex says with a sigh. Now that he’s no longer enraged, he regrets his rant. He’d have cursed out anyone else he’d heard say that. It’s some ableist nonsense. “Disabled soldiers are just as capable as everyone else. If they get cleared by medical, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be able to serve. Some of this country's best men have been injured in battle… If they are willing to go back out there, it’s to our country’s benefit to let them.” 

“But you said…” 

“I know,” Alex says, pulling away from him enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “But I didn’t mean it.” 

“No?” There’s that little bit of old insecurity in Michael’s eyes as he says it. 

It’s been a few months since Alex has seen it. Things between them have been so good that Alex had naively hoped that it was gone forever. But it doesn’t surprise him that he’s seeing it now. Alex going off to war has always been a difficult thing for both of them. Their relationship has never survived a deployment. This time, Alex is determined to break that trend. 

“Well not the disabled part. I help champion for disabled rights in the military. I can’t very well complain that I’m being treated like everyone else, can I?” 

Michael’s eyes go to the ground and refuse to meet his own. 

“The only reason you reenlisted was to keep me safe, and now they are sending you to a war you don’t want to fight.” 

Alex’s stomach drops as he curses himself for that slip of his tongue. He never should have said that either. He’s 0 for 2 tonight. 

“Hey,” Alex says, grabbing onto Michael’s face gently and getting him to look at him. “Keeping you safe was a reason to reenlist but it wasn’t the main reason to reenlist.” 

“No?” He looks doubtful. 

“Project Shepard is my family’s legacy, and I needed to see it through. I needed to make sure it stayed dismantled. And yes, doing so kept you safe and that’s great, but I needed to do that for me. To be able to heal from all my shit with my dad,” Alex explains, hoping Michael gets it. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Michael says. “Every time you go off to war, it’s my fault.” 

“What?” Alex says. He’d thought he’d heard all of Michael’s crazy insecurities by now, but this is a new one. 

“Your dad only made you join the Air Force after he caught us together,” Michael says. “And every time your enlistment period was up, I did something to scare you back into it... I don’t want to be the reason that you keep going to war. Because one of these days I’m going to scare you back into it and you’re not going to make it home.” 

Michael starts to cry and each tear stabs at his heart. 

“Okay, that was a lot.” Alex gives a small laugh as he starts to cry too. He’s been getting better tackling Michael’s emotional dumps and not running away when they happen. It’s still not easy and his first instinct is always to run, or ignore it with the distraction of sex, but he’s trying. 

“But… I’ll try to tackle it,” Alex says. “For starters, my dad was always going to push me into the Air Force. Sure, I had plans to make music and go to college, and my dad threatening you is the reason why I didn’t rebel. But he was always going to find a way to get me to enlist. His evil knows no bounds and he would never have been okay with a son not upholding the family legacy. As for the rest… I was stupid and young. And you didn’t scare me back to war. You only ever offered me a home and a family, and I was too broken to accept.” 

“And now?” 

“And now, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen. The only thing that’s predictable about war is that it’s unpredictable.” 

Michael’s eyes go back to the ground, but Alex chases them until Michael meets his gaze again. 

“I can promise you that I’m going to fight like hell to get back to you. That I’m no longer young and stupid. I know what I’m doing and while I can’t control what happens, I’m not going to make stupid mistakes out there. Not when I have a wonderful man waiting for me at home.” 

“Yeah?” Michael looks doubtful and Alex realizes that he’s never actually assured Michael that they aren’t breaking up during this deployment. He’d just assumed that much was obvious, but perhaps not. Perhaps Michael still needs the actual words. 

“Yeah,” Alex says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’m in this. If you’re in this, I’m in this. We survived ten years apart, we can survive six months.” 

Michael nods and attempts to nonchalantly wipe his eyes like Alex could somehow have missed the fact that he’s been crying. Still, Alex has enough tact to ignore it. 

“I’ll call as much as I can,” Alex assures him, settling his hands on Michael’s hips and pulling him closer. “Though it might be spotty until we get things established there.” 

“I’ll write.” 

“You’ll write?” Alex teases him. “You barely send texts.” 

“I will write,” Michael promises, wrapping his arms around Alex’s shoulders and leaning his forehead against his own. 

“Good.” 

Getting letters from home are some of the only things that make war bearable. Alex rarely got any in the past, but the handful of letters he’d received from Maria, Liz, and Greg over the years had certainly brightened his days. Alex has always missed Michael during deployments, but this time he’s positive it’s going to hurt even more. Letters will help. 

“I’ve gotta remind you what you’ve got waiting for you at home,” Michael says with a teasing smile that lets him know the serious moment has passed. “Can’t have you shacking up with any sexy airmen all brokeback style.” 

Alex laughs at that. “Never.” 

“Good.” Michael kisses him before dropping his hands and walking back over to pick up his backpack. “Now let’s find our camp for real. I’m starving and horny, and I’d much rather have sex in a tent than on the ground.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’d had sex in the middle of the desert,” Alex reminds him. 

Michael looks up in surprise as Alex sends him a knowing look. 

“Well sure,” Michael says with a smile, reaching out for his hand. “But that was when I was living in a truck and didn’t have other options. And it was a one time thing. I had dirt and sand places that one never really should.” 

“Fair,” Alex says with a laugh as Michael leans in to give him another kiss.  

Alex takes a deep breath, assuring himself that things are going to be okay. He then looks up at the sky and, now that he has a clear head, can clearly see which direction they need to head. 

“Come on, camp is this way,” Alex says, tugging on his hand. 

“Did you just navigate by the stars?”

One glance at Michael’s face tells him that he’s never going to hear the end of this. 

“Shut up,” he says with a blush. “It’s part of our training.” 

“Oh! Part of your training? You mean you didn’t learn that on the reservation? You aren’t going to do a rain dance for me?” Michael laughs, and god… Alex doesn’t even care that Michael teases him the entire twenty minute walk back to camp, because Alex is really going to miss that smile when he’s gone. 

[gustafsnightangel]

A Softer Side Part 2

Hunt and Strand lived, breathed, and ate the case until they had exhausted all avenues, only then did they decide to stakeout Donovan’s place.

“It’s like four days until his kids birthday and he’s still in town, what gives?” Hunt asked from the back of the van as he watched Donovan’s car pull up.

“A few options, he isn’t our guy, he’s snatching closer to home, or he’s paying someone else to get their hands dirty as he’s retired living the life of luxury.” Karl quipped sarcastically.

“In a run down duplex. Sorry, I’m not buying.” Jerry huffed.

“Me either. He’s dirty, we just gotta find the dirt.” Karl’s eyes narrowed as the trunk of Arthur’s car opened. Snatching the camera with the telephoto zoom lens he zeroed in on the shopping bags.

“You got something boss?”

“Shopping.” He stated and clicked away as Jerry watched the images come up on his laptop screen. “Hmmmm.”

“Hmmm indeed.” Hint said scanning the photos. “Why would a guy in his sixties, living alone need feminine hygiene products and diapers?”

“Damn good question.”

“He’s stocking up.” Jerry said quietly.

“He is, hey run the plates.” Karl smiled. “He’s changed cars, that’s not the same one he had last week when we came here.”

“Derek Strider, age 57, black hair, that’s dyed because it was a sandy blond when we met last week. Says here he’s a retired school teacher. Helps out at, oh fuck me.” Jerry said a moment later, and spun the laptop around for Strand to see.

Karl almost went nuclear. A fucking orphanage, is this guy for real? “Get Meekland on the phone, right the fuck now.” He snarled and Jerry opened a line.

Strand relayed the information and Jerry, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

“I’m not asking for a warrant yet ma’am, I’m asking for someone to go sit on the orphanage over the next few days to see what this guy does.” The line went silent for a few moments.

“You’re sure?”

“Somethings off Sarah, we can’t ignore it.”

“Very well, I’ll have someone assigned to you this afternoon.” She snapped.

“Thank you.” The line went dead.

“You guys really hate each other don’t you?” Jerry said quietly.

“No, just... we irritate each other, oil and water.” He chuckled, let him think they hated each other, it was better than I’m banging the boss. “What type of security do you think he has on that house?”

“Considering what he’s hypothetically hiding, I’d say a lot.”

“Hmmm.”

“What hmmm, I don’t like that hmmm.” Jerry said cautiously.

“He’s going to go out at some point and I want to have a snoop around.” Strand murmured.

“You can’t go in...”

“I didn’t say I was going in, I want to look around.” He shot back. “You knock on the front door while I wander around the back.”

“If we go in without a warrant.”

“I’m well aware of what happens, don’t sweat it kid, I’m not about to blow this lead by entering without a warrant.” Not yet he thought.

“Ok then, when?”

“Discretely call the orphanage and ask what time the volunteers come in, tell them your interested in helping out.” Karl lifted the camera back up as Arthur ventured out to the car again as Jerry made the call.

******

“He’s heading to the orphanage.” Jerry confirmed.

“And you know this how?” He asked sarcastically.

“Because Wainwright just texted me that he’s over there and our boy just got out of his car.” Hint smiled.

“Good, let’s go.” Karl stalked to the house with purpose, his long legs eating up the road. Signaling to Jerry, he went around the back. He heard the kid knock on the door and wait, the polite investigator just tying up loose ends. Strand committed the layout of the rear of the house to memory, the storm shelter door which was oddly out of place against the abandoned garden shed along the back fence. Glancing at the neighbors yard, their storm shelter was against the house. Hearing Jerry’s second knock and polite call of Mr. Donovan he ventured along the rear of the house, studying every weather beaten board, every window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taking out his phone he snapped a few photos and walked toward the garden shed, now here was some security. “What are you hiding behind a rusty tin shed Arthur that needs a high end, high priced military security system?” He muttered to himself and snapped a few pictures of the lock and the storm shelter which also has a lock. The back entrance to the house was also tightly secured, he needed blueprints and a warrant.

******

Climbing back into the van Karl uploaded the photos from his phone to Jerry’s computer and gave him detailed information about the locks and where to find someone to break them. He also had him pull the county blueprints of the area.

“Ex military.” Strand said as if that alone explained everything. “They don’t ask questions and get the job done. It’s our last resort if we can’t get the warrant.”

“We’ll lose our asses if we go in without a warrant.”

“I will, you won’t be coming in if it gets to that point, because I won’t be arresting him.” He said darkly and let the kid see the rage and hatred simmering beneath the calm facade that was Karl Strand. “If it is who we think it is, I’m not letting him slip through again. This time I’ll end the fucker.”

“Fair enough.” The kid gulped.

“Set up one of the remote wireless cameras on the house and we can monitor from the office for the night. I want food and a fucking shower.” He was beat. They’d been jammed in the van for nearly a week but it was paying off, they had leads, they were following cautiously.

“Can do boss.” Karl climbed into the drivers seat while Jerry took care of the camera and they headed out once everything was online.

******

Strand went out for burgers again after his shower and walked into the conference room as Jerry was finishing up with Wainwright on the phone, the camera they’d set up showed Donovan’s car back in the driveway at the house.

“Our boy home for the night?” He asked placing food in front of the rookie and taking a seat.

“Yeah, got in about ten minutes ago. Wainwright’s gonna hang in case he scouts the orphanage out tonight.”

“Good.”

“He also setup a wireless camera so we can see the building, front and back.”

“Even better.” Karl studied the orphanage, entries, exits, windows. “Pretty secure.”

“Reasonably, the younger kid section more than the main building.” Jerry said biting into the burger.

“Begs the question of how? How’s he gonna do it Jerry?”

“How much does it cost to legally adopt?”

“Chump change to what he’s getting for them. But no, not legally adopt, too much of a paper trail, too many questions.” Karl chewed on that thought. “I wonder...”

“You wonder what?”

“I wonder if he’s visiting other orphanages.” Strand mused out loud.

“Fuuuck! I didn’t even think of more than one. It would be a bold fucking move to snatch them from the orphanage though.”

“Yeah.” Karl said wistfully as his brain ticked over each scenario. “I’d wait.” He murmured.

“Wait for what?”

“I’d wait for the kids to be adopted.” He sat up abruptly and started typing. “Cross check all the orphanages in the last few states he’s hit with parents that have adopted only to then have the child kidnapped a little while later. That’s going to be a short fucking list, at least I hope it’s shorter than the list we have.” They sat and tossed theories around as the computers churned through data. They both fell silent as the chime from the computer informed them of a hit.

“Shit.” Karl scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was hoping I was fucking wrong.”

“Me too, but it’s more weight for a warrant.”

“Ok let’s get to work.” He sighed as the hits came in, a slow trickle of more names he’d add to his list.

“He used more than one orphanage in New York State, Ohio, and Colorado.” Jerry said in awe at the amount of names popping up. “This is crazy.”

“It is, but what’s the bet you just found your milk money.”

“No we found their prime merch, the milk money will be the homeless that can be cleaned up and sold for a quick $20K.”

“Let’s get it together, I’ll call Meekland in the morning and disturb her weekend.” He grinned, in more ways than one.

“Oh she’ll love you for that.” Jerry said sarcastically.

“You sassing me boy?” Strand growled.

“No sir absolutely not.”

Karl couldn’t contain the chuckle, the kid was all right for a rookie.

******

It was 3 am Saturday morning when Strand called it a night. They were both wrecked.

“Go home, get some sleep Jerry. Good work these past few weeks.”

“Thanks boss but if you’re staying so am I.”

“I’m not, I’m heading out. We can’t help these kids if we’re falling asleep mid-takedown. Rest.”

“You too.” He said and collected his coat and headed out.

Strand was kicked back staring at his board when Meekland stepped in. “Making progress?”

“Slowly, but yes.” He eyed her carefully, damn he was in the mood to fuck her hard. “If he sticks to pattern he’ll move on the 17th kidnapping the first kid.”

“We can lockdown the orphanage.” She assured him and he smiled.

“He won’t take the kid from there, it’ll be from the family that just adopted their new baby girl.” He snarled.

“Oh fucking shit Karl.” She breathed. “Seriously?”

“That’s how I’d do it and there’s a pattern with previous states and families that have adopted.”

“Who’s he going to hit?”

“I don’t know. There are multiple adoptions each day and he visits more than one orphanage, each with a different ID. We’re still working that angle. It wasn’t until a few hours ago we were thinking it was just him and a lone operator, now I’m thinking mob or syndicate.”

“Jerry heading home?”

“Yeah, as am I. We need sleep. There’s nothing more I can do for her tonight.”

“You really think she’s still with him don’t you?”

“I heard her screaming when we were close fifteen years ago Sarah, I fucking know she exists.” He stood and pulled his coat on, jamming his hands into the pockets.

“Want to hit the bar?” Which was their code for take me home sir?

“I do, but I’m beat to hell. I need sleep.”

“Go and sleep, we can swing past after lunch.” And with that settled she turned on her heel and left.

******

He knew he should have said no to Sarah, but damn it a man has needs and she was more than a willing participant. The drive home to his downtown apartment was blissfully short given the time and for once the doorman wasn’t at his post to talk his ear off. He needed his brain to shut down for a good twenty four, a solid eight and a good fuck would suffice. Once inside he darkened the room, took a long hot shower and let the day and the case fall away. Crawling naked under the covers he let sleep claim him hard.

******

Her text tone woke him, Sarah was on her way. Slipping on a pair of lounge pants that hung low on his hips he padded out to fuel up with coffee and eggs he hoped were still good. He was clearing his dishes when Sarah knocked.

“You look like shit.” She said gruffly and handed him a bag of fresh bagels.

“Good morning to you too sunshine.” He chuckled and let her in.

“Eat your bagels.” She smirked.

“I’ll save them, I just had eggs. What is it you want Sarah?” He asked sternly.

“You.”

“I thought you had a someone special?” He joked.

“Apparently not as special as the blond bimbo on his arm last Thursday.” She snapped. Ahhhh he thought, that would explain the moodiness these past few days.

“I’m not relationship material Sarah you know that, this is just sex.”

“Sex is all I fucking want right now.” She spat and his eyebrow raised.

“On your knees.” He growled. “You forget your place little one.” She dropped to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Bedroom.” He barked when she went to touch him, the slight flinch reigning her in. He knew what she needed from him, what she craved when she was like this. Watching her crawl on all fours to the bedroom he finished his coffee and devoured a bagel, she would wait, time it’s own restraint.

She was kneeling at the side of the bed, her usual spot, when he came into the room and shut the door. Belt in hand he stood behind her, looming, his presence enough to have her submit to him. When her head bowed he sat on the bed in front of her and hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.

“You know not to take that tone with me little one.” He growled. “Across my lap, you get ten.” He saw the realization in her eyes that they wouldn’t be a soft ten either. “Stand.” He commanded. Once she stood she kept her head bowed, hands nervously twitching in front of her. “Take your shirt off.” He purred, the slight smile tugging his lips as her hands shook while fighting the buttons. It was arousal over fear, Sarah had never feared him, nor should she. This was their game, mutually beneficial, equally satisfying. He drank in her curves, the swell of her breasts as she stripped the blouse from her body. “Now your skirt.” His voice husky with need of his own as his eyes followed the fabric down her legs to pool at her feet. She waited, knowing he was in control, he would tell her when to move.

“On the bed, across my lap.” He said after he took his time devouring every inch of her with his eyes. Holding out his hand she took it to steady herself as she got into position. “Hands.” He murmured, the command in his tone unmistakable. Binding her wrists with the belt he secured them comfortably in the swell of her spine. She’d come prepared with her hair already in a tight braid, the long rope like tail enough for him to wrap around his hand for a good grip when he was ready. “Count them out little one.” He soothed as his hand circled her ass cheek ready to strike.

He drew his hand up and back and slapped her hard. The crack of skin against skin echoed around his bedroom.

“One sir.” She said defiantly.

The second strike caused her to whimper, the large red hand print blooming on her skin.

“Two sir.”

With each strike she relinquished control, he could feel her submit to him further.

“Five sir.” She choked as the tears came. He didn’t hesitate, knew that this was what she needed. Wrapping her braid around his hand he fisted it and pulled her head back gently before striking her again.

“Six sir.” She sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Nearly there little one. He purred and brought his hand down sharply.

“Seven sir.” He felt her let go, the last of her stress and tension falling away as he soothed her ass cheek before striking again.

“Eight sir.” Her sob shook her body.

His fist tightened in her hair as he gave her the last two strikes, both harder than the rest of them.

“Ten sir.” She cried, as he released her hair gently and soothed the pain from her scalp and her glowing hot cheek.

“Will you talk to me in that tone again little one?”

“No sir.” She whimpered.

“Up you get.” He urged and he helped her up and into his lap, her wrists still bound.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“I know you are.” He kissed her forehead, the need for her to feel safe was as important as the release the rough session would bring her.

“Be a good girl now and hop up.” He said, his hand steadying her as she unfolded herself from his lap. Fingers stripped the remaining lace from her body, those curves enticing him to play. Once she was naked he cupped her face in his hands and devoured that beautiful mouth. “Such a good girl.” He purred as she stood there and let him take her as he wanted, touch her as he wanted.

He wasn’t a gentle lover, and never had been, he didn’t do it with the premise of intentionally hurting someone, but his handling was rough. Gripping her wrists he held them forcefully as he took and touched. Releasing them he positioned her face down onto the mattress, his huge frame towering over her. Nudging her knees to widen her gripped her hips hard to bring her up on her knees, that perfect ass presented ready for him to fuck. “Wider.” He growled and nudged her knees open, the whimper making him smile. She’d been begging for him to take her like this and hard for weeks. He left her there, poised for the rough hard fuck she’d asked for while he stripped, his cock aching to be buried inside her, to feel her. He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the vibe on the bed for later, she would come and come hard today.

She wiggled her ass as his tip pressed against her entrance and his hand coming down sharply on her ass cheek. “Don’t test me.” He snarled. He teased her, tormented her to breaking point, the tears and whimpers fueling his own lust. With a sharp thrust of his hips he buried himself deep, her body shaking with the force of their pelvises meeting. Hers was a guttural groan at finally being filled with him, his own grunt equally as loud as he held her hips painfully tight and began to take her.

Strand fucked her hard, his own tension and stress of the weeks past eager to find its own release, the need to fuck it out of his system taking over. Pounding into her he gripped the leather at her wrists and rode her, the sound of their bodies colliding mixing with the grunts and groans of fucking filled the room. He felt her peak, the tightness of her pussy caressing him. Just as she was about to shatter he pulled out, her release ebbing away. His throaty chuckle at her whimper of frustration only spurring him on. “I warned you not to test me.” He snarled, the slick tip of his cock pushing at her puckered hole. It wasn’t often he gave her this pleasure, knew she relished it as much as he did. “So wet for me.” He cooed, the spanking earlier doing its job, her heightened arousal obvious. “You want me there don’t you.” He teased. “Want me buried in that pretty ass.”

“Please sir.” She begged and pushed back slightly to try and force him inside her, desperate to feel him fill her again. The hard slap to her already red ass cheek made her yelp.

“Patients little one or you’ll get nothing.” He growled. “I’ll take my fill and leave you wanting.” She stilled and waited. “Better.” He stroked his engorged cock and made her wait longer, the game drawn out for her pleasure as well as his. Slipping inside her soaked pussy he gave her a few thrusts before pressing against her back door, the tightness around his mushroom tip making him groan. He fed her the tip, her muscles contracting around his head like a vice, her body trembling as she fought the urge to push back onto him.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

“You want it all don’t you little one?” He inched into her slowly, her breath erratic as she struggled not to come.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

Once he was seated in her tight ass he drew out and began to thrust, the ease of which he knew she’d prepared for the evening in advance. Working into a rhythm he plunged in taking her hard, the slaps to her ass adding to their mutual pleasure. Leaning over her he placed a hand either side of her head, above the shoulders and fucked her, that soft whimper making him lose his mind as he dominated her. In a swift move he straightened, wrapped her braid in his hand and pulled her head back so her body was bowed back, the other hand at her throat. She was at his mercy, bound and being fucked relentlessly.

His hand dropped from her throat momentarily and reached for the vibe he’d placed there earlier. Switching it on he held it over her clit, the cry of shock and extreme pleasure sharp to his ears. He slowed his rhythm as he eased it inside her pussy, the curved section long enough to sit against her clit. Taking a hold of her throat again he plunged in and felt the vibration ripple up his cock, the groan primal. He took her, hips snapping, pushing him deep into her ass, she was almost screaming in ecstasy.

Feeling her peak he pistoned his hips and fucked her like the primal animal he was, taking what he wanted, everything she had to offer him and more. “Come.” He snarled and squeezed her throat as she exploded. The feel of her milking him had him roar before he spilled his seed, his thrusts erratic and powerful. Both spent he pulled out and released her wrists, her body lax and unmoving as she caught her breath. “Color little one.” He said as he climbed off the bed.

“Green sir.” She panted.

They weren’t one for cuddles and snuggles afterwards, they both got what they needed out of this session and Karl headed to the bathroom to shower. She joined him as he was stepping out to take care of her own personal hygiene. With a towel wrapped around his hips he cleaned up and stripped the bed, virtually erasing the fact they’d fucked here at all.

******

“You know this can’t be a regular thing Sarah.” He said as she stood on his threshold, finger stroking down his crisp blue shirt. “I can’t go through all that shit again.”

“Pity.”

“Were no good for each other.” Except for a quick fuck he wanted to add but thought better if it. He needed to be clear with her again. They had rules and limits for a reason, especially after the crash and burn of their actual relationship years earlier.

“I know Karl, it’s just...” She sighed. “I know.” Leaning in she kissed him sweetly. “Thanks for the session, I needed it.”

“So did I.”

“You know it’s Sunday, you don’t have to go in.”

“I want to see what the our databases spat out.” He said abruptly. He wanted to chase down leads and get ahead of this fucker. “And I think better when I’m staring at the board.”

“I’ll see you around then Strand.”

“Yes ma’am you will.” He said softly and closed the door before she could worm her way back into his heart. He’d loved her once, if a man like him was able to love, but they were just fuck buddies now and it suited him just fine.

******

He didn’t expect to see Jerry at the conference room table, downing coffee and typing furiously.

“You look like a man possessed.” Karl chuckled softly as he shucked his coat and sat to look at the names the computer had pulled, he was loose and relaxed and ready to dig in. “And you shouldn’t be here on your day off kid.”

“You’re here.” He said flatly, continuing on his current train of thought.

“I’m on my own time Hunt, I don’t expect you to be.” Strand said gruffly, he wasn’t a complete asshole to drag the kid away from his scheduled time off.

“You’re here, I’m here.” He said simply. “I’m not looking for overtime, or a pat on the back. I want this prick.”

“It’s personal for you.” Karl said quietly, his gaze studying the rookie as he worked. “Not my business.” He added when the silence stretched. Yes, he thought, you’ll do kid.

“My sister.” Jerry said after a moment as he kept working, though Karl could see the pain and grief etched deep in the kids face when he mentioned her. It had aged him in a heartbeat. “Not this case.” He added quickly. “But you never know, this might give me answers into hers.”

“Unsolved?”

“Stone fucking cold boss.”

“Tell me.” He commanded, he needed to know where the kids head was at.

Strand looked at Jerry and rage looked back, that was something, Karl thought. Anger was good fuel when you had to push through the shit haunting your every step.

“Nutshell version. My sister, Eva, is 16, seven years younger than me, or she would be if she was still alive. I’m not sure she is. She ran away from home and or was kidnapped when she was 10. My mother was adamant she was taken. I’m more inclined to believe Eva took off on some hair-brained fantasy of a better life on her own, even at ten she was a hellion. Cops looked into it and shuffled it to a cold case after not so much as a we’re chasing all leads. They don’t give a shit.”

“Which is why you’re with this agency and not a cop.” Strand added.

“Absolutely.” He said vehminantly. “I’d like to believe she’s still alive, but reading this case and the possibility of her being sold, I’d rather she be dead.”

“Can’t blame you there.” Karl studied the rookie closely. “Is this going to be an issue for you?”

“No sir.” He said strongly. “These kids, the women they are now, deserve everything of me to catch this guy and nail his balls to the fucking wall. If it leads me to answers about my sister then great, if not, I’m ok with that too.”

“There’ll be other cases that blur the lines with your sister.”

“Yep, and it’ll be the same answer then too.” He said matter of factly.

“Good to know.” Karl was pleased with the rookie’s answer. A lot more grit under the shiny new investigator badge than there appeared to be. “What have you got?” He nodded at all the names and figures on the screen.

“I need to figure out what’s driving this and it’s usually money. I set up a phony encrypted account and signed up for all these websites that offer girls of all ages to be purchased. I needed to be in their system to have a snoop around. It’s my guesstimate of the different levels of, dare I call it, merchandise, and payments for each girl, for each username or seller.” He explained.

“You’re looking for a pattern.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at Karl and went back to the printed out spreadsheet in his hands.

“How far does this go back?” Strand asked, the cogs in his head turning with this new information.

“So far only three years. I can get more but it’ll take some time. I’ve already set my computer to pull data.” He turned the laptop around for Strand to see, numbers and names flicking past at an alarming rate.

“How may girls per year?” He asked softly.

“Per user or per website?”

“Both.”

“Gimme a sec.” Jerry’s brow knit in concentration as he fiddled with the spreadsheet on the big screen. “Holy shit!” He breathed out in disbelief.

“Yeah that sums it up.”

“130,000 plus girls a year over the site. 1 to 2 thousand girls, give or take per user. Some users rank higher than others.”

“We look into them all. Split the list of users in half, we run them all. Let’s build the case from our side so when we put these assholes in a cage they fucking stay there.” Karl growled.

“I’ll dig for personal information first to give you a name and username on the site.”

“Do that. I’m calling Meekland, we need more people on this. It’s not just our buddy boy Arthur, not just this handful of sites.”

“We going after them all?”

“We shut Arthur down first, that’s our priority, find the girl, his first girl. We can run the rest in the background.” Karl said as he got some notes together.

“I can set that up. Can I have Wainwright? He knows his shit when it comes to computers and hacking and tech.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked at the kid. “I know you’re not in it for the pat on the back, but this deserves one. Good job.” He grabbed his phone and made the calls to Meekland, secured Wainwright for the support and began to dig into the usernames.

******

“Question.” He said into the silence, the hum of the computer fans the only other sound in the room a while later. “Did you cross the sell dates with anything?”

“Not yet.” Hunt answered. “The snatch date would be different to the sell date and we don’t know how long he keeps them.”

“Search for sell dates on our boys three anniversary dates.” He said on a whim.

“You got something boss?”

“A hunch maybe.”

Jerry ran the search on the sellers websites and the spreadsheet on the big screen. “That’s still a lot of girls.” He blew out.

“But look at the ages.” Strand grinned. “That’s the only thing that matches for three of the sellers. The girls are all 16.”

“So he keeps them from infants to 16?” Jerry’s voice choked.

“Grooms them from birth to be the whores they’ll be sold as.” Strand ground through his teeth. “Those are your prime merchandise.” He nodded to the screen. “Look at the price they were sold for.”

“3.7 mil, 6.2, 1.3, 5.4. Auctioned off, not just sold.” Jerry said reading the site.

“Can you find pictures of the girls?” Karl asked.

“They usually don’t have pictures up of prior transactions but I can look. You thinking these are Arthur’s girls?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“There’s three usernames though.”

“Oh I bet it’s all his, one for each anniversary.” Strand was deep in Arthur’s head now. “I wonder?” He whispered to himself and opened up his file on the wife as he scanned the account and username list.

“Got something boss?” Jerry asked and grabbed their cups to refresh the coffee that had gone cold.

“Maybe.” He mumbled, brain locked onto the current task. “Did you happen to glance around the inside of his house when you talked to him?”

“A little, I didn’t want to be too obvious.” Jerry sat the coffee in front of Karl and took his seat again.

“Were they’re any pictures or anything of his wife that stood out?”

“He had a portrait of her and a child, well I’m assuming it was his wife and a depiction of their child.” Jerry closed his eyes as if to bring the memory back. “Oh and a strange poem line under the portrait painted on the wall or something. You know how people have those chic signs and sayings and shit? He had one that said.... oh fuck me... wait.” Jerry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled forward to use his laptop. “Fuck! Fucking fuck I missed it before. NevermoreRaven that’s his fucking account username.” Jerry spat. “And he lists all three separate usernames under that one account name. Son of a bitch.”

“So our boy is into some Poe is he?” Karl grinned. “What was the poem line on the wall?”

“Sorrow for the lost Lenore.”

“The Raven by Mr. Edgar Allen Poe.” Strand stood and scrawled it across the board. “What’s the bet Lenore is his wife’s real name. Add an amendment to your report on the Peter Jensen case, tie it in. It’ll give us cause and a bit of weight.” It was a good solid lead and something he could now got to Meekland with to secure a warrant. “Damn good work Jerry.”

“I was stupid, I just thought it quirky and should have followed up, we could have known this earlier.” He spat, angry he’d made a rookie mistake.

“Live and learn kid. Without the website info it wouldn’t seem like much.”

“It would have to you.” He huffed.

“Kid I’ve got nearly twenty years on you.” He snorted as he pulled out his phone to call Meekland again, thing had just swung in his favor. “Run and focus everything on EvermoreRaven. We nail Arthur first, then we go after the others. Let’s not spread ourselves too thin and lose him.” Which is what had happened last time, Karl thought. History would not be repeating itself, his case, his op, this time around, his rules.

“When’s he due to strike again?” Meekland asked, annoyance in her voice at being disturbed again on a Sunday.

“Tomorrow is his kids birthday and the day his wife died. He’ll have his information on who he’s going to snatch and the 16 year old he’s about to sell.”

“Jesus Karl, this is a can of fucking worms.” Her sigh was one of frustration.

“Yeah and it’s going to get messy if we don’t do it right. As much as I want to bust in there and nail his balls to the wall we need to catch him in the act. The snatch and sell needs to go down, transactions completed for it to be worth anything in court, for us to dig deeper and get them all. I need to know where he’s getting all the girls and housing them. I need the warrants, I need a team.”

“You’ll have it.” She said without question. “Send me the list of who you want on this, hand pick the team. I know you Karl.” She said, that unspoken approval of they don’t all have to be department employees.

“Thank you ma’am.” He said gently, and he was thankful, she was giving him free reign which if the op went south it would be her ass too. He’d keep Hunt and Wainwright, the rest would be a team he trusted and knew wouldn’t let shit fall through the cracks. Time to color outside the lines a little, he thought as, he put in a call to Wainwright and was surprised when the guy walked into the conference room ten minutes later. “You working today?”

“I was yeah. Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need?” Karl liked Steven, blunt and no bullshit, much like himself.

“Get with the kid.” He nodded in Jerry’s direction. “He’ll get you up to speed, I have an op to plan.”

“Sweet.”

“You up for a tail?”

“On Arthur? Sure, where and when?”

“He’s going to leave sometime tomorrow for the snatch. I need you to follow him and get it on record, the snatch, the location he’s taking the kid to. It’ll be an infant going in and likely a 16 year old coming out.”

“I don’t think the teen will come out that day boss.” Jerry said softly not really sure if he should speak up.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

[noreasonreally]

I hadn't spoken to my father in a year. When I was 19, I sent that final text - although I can't remember what it said, it was the last words I said to him before blocking his number. My paternal grandfather, the one who molested me as a child (though I repressed that for years), would take me out to lunch, ask how college was, and spend some time trying to convince me to speak to my father again.

Looking back, it makes perfect sense to me that he didn't take me seriously. At the time, I was just getting hurt over and over again. Every time I reiterated that my father's behavior was unacceptable and not going to change - the damage is done, and so am I - the response would essentially be, "But he's the only dad you'll ever have. It wasn't that bad, was it?"

My mom understood me, but had fled to Colorado after the divorce. My brother was busy being a paramedic, and he didn't understand what my problem was, either. I had a boyfriend, that I basically lived with by the time I was 20; his brother and his brother's girlfriend would join us for lazy afternoons and wild nights. I was too fucked up on my own personal turmoil to really be as present with them as they deserved, but I also found better men to be with along the line. A pretty decent first boyfriend, all said.

Graduation was a little tricky - I wasn't technically getting my degree yet, but all I needed were the two classes over the summer, since I had finished the Music Business program. A math class and a resume-building class - so stupid, but I would take care of it. It was the only graduation ceremony I'd had; K-12 was pretty uneventful as a home-schooled kid. I was so salty about having to go straight to college in the first place, that I didn't care about my high school graduation party; it was combined with my 17th birthday party, as well.

So I graduate. My brother and grandfather are the only ones who have said they'll be there; my grandparents on my Mom's side forgot, or I forgot to tell them, or something embarrassing like that, that we've never talked about.

I get the degree holder, I walk across the stage and smile at my boyfriend, his brother, and his brother's girlfriend. My professor and advisor stands at the end, mimicking the way I reacted to my friends' graduation the previous year, and we laugh. We take a picture together.

The ceremony ends, and in a rush of pride, I find my boyfriend and ask if he's seen my brother (the only one he'd recognize). Then I get a call from my brother: he had to leave on an ambulance run, but he was supposed to tell me to meet my grandfather and my father at the Dairy Queen the next town over.

My heart crumbles. I start crying. Not one of my family members will be here to celebrate with me. Not one.

I hide in the bathroom for as long as I can without making my boyfriend and his brother and his brother's girlfriend wait too long. I try to tidy up my makeup. I forget to get the DVD of the ceremony to send to my Mom, because I just want to forget any of this happened, I just need to get away from the other 20-year-olds with their happy families.

I get into my car with my boyfriend. He says he brought a bottle of whiskey, and we drink from the bottle before driving back to his apartment. The three of them have decorated with streamers, banners, balloons, and confetti.

And that's the story of when I felt the most abandoned. The most hurt.

I'm certain I've posted this story before, but maybe not as coherently, or completely; certainly not with the repressed memories and hindsight I now have. And I don't wake up every day thinking about this, or anything; I've moved on fairly well from a lot of things.

The main reason I felt the need to type this all out, and (maybe?) post it on fucking tumblr, is that it really happened. And sometimes I forget that I'm not making it all up. Especially now that I'm living in my Mom's basement until I find a place closer to work, especially now that my brother is constantly in and out of the same house and talking like my father (because of course they still talk), especially now that I'm forced to confront my insecurities and familial issues every damn day... I need to remember that this really happened.

I'm not making things up, no matter how badly anyone (including myself) wants to believe that. I'm not crazy for feeling like I can't trust my family, or rely on them to be there for my biggest moments. It's not an unnatural defense mechanism, for me to push them away when I'm going through something deeply personal and important.

It's incredibly important for me to examine, and maintain, my boundaries, especially with my family, who are the source of many anxieties. And at no point do I need to be "done" working on this - at no point do I need to make myself smaller, or seem "normal," or let them bulldoze a conversation - and at no point do I need to force myself through the process, either.

This is a big wound for me, obviously. And the ceremony itself can be considered so unimportant to many people, and I respect that. But this was symbolic of my entire adulthood up to that point, and changed how I approached my adulthood beyond it. I didn't finish the two classes, I didn't go to a 4-year college, and I certainly didn't ask for help with my PTSD. I didn't even know I had PTSD until years later.

The moral of the story is, sometimes you need to type out an old wound in story format to feel like it's not rattling around in your head anymore. And sometimes you need to post it on a website that you've used for over a decade, because tucking it away between funny jokes just feels natural. And sometimes this happens like 5 days before your appointment with a new psychologist and you're kind of scared of what's going to happen, so you cope in ways that are actually pretty healthy, all things considered.

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - III - Close Call

The phone begins ringing again, and Russia jerks out of his thoughts.

'What is that?'

Then the ringing registers and Arizona answers, turning off the radio and connecting to the speaker with the phone.

"Hey, can everyone hear me?" California asks.

Texas gave affirmation, as did others from other cars.

"Okay, so, I think York-y and I figured out what happened. We're pretty sure some official is working as an informant and is tracking purchases from our cards."

"So renting hotel rooms is out of the question," Dixie comments.

"Unless we stock up on cash, yeah," California answers, "and I don't think we should be withdrawing anything right now though. I'm afraid they're right on our tail."

"Well, what should we do? I can't drive constantly," Texas says.

"And I can't sleep in a moving car," New Hamshire complains.

"How much longer can you guys drive?" Colorado asks.

"I can manage, but I'd rather get settled sooner than later," Texas replies.

Several other answers also come in, varying from "I'm fine" to "I'm about to pass out."

Colorado sighs.

"Dixie?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"The next road you can turn off onto, take it. It doesn't lead really anywhere, but the end shouldn't be visible from the main road."

"Hold up, how many cars are with us?" Utah asks.

There is a brief pause before Dixie answers, "11, the right number. Why?"

"I was just making sure," Utah replies.

Dixie sighs.

"Don't be scaring me like that," Dixie mutters.

Then a few moments of quiet, the car slows, and it turns down onto a gravel road. Russia hears the stones kicking up onto the underside of the car. Looking out the window, he sees how the trees overtake the sky.

The road winds and rocks loudly clang against the underside of the car.

Finally, they pull over and the overhead light in the car flickers on. America groans.

"Is it safe to get out?" Texas asks after pulling the parking brake.

"Yeah. Nothing here," Massachusetts replies.

"Come on, let's get out and find somewhere to sleep. If there ain't anywhere, we should just stay in the cars."

America gets up and stumbles out. Texas pulls Russia out in a fireman carry. Russia shivers at the winter air. He briefly sees the others begin to dig through the trunk and pull out blankets. The walk down the now narrowing path.

The wind whips by and Russia's shivering gets a little worse.

"Hey, can one of y'all toss a blanket on top of Russia here?" Texas asks.

Someone tucks a blanket around him and the wind feels less harsh.

"Why can't we just stay in the car?" Ontario asks. His siblings chime in with agreement.

"I got a very bad feeling about staying in the cars," Dixie replies begrudgingly.

"That is not a good reason," Quebec complains, her french accent making her nearly unintelligible.

Dixie stops and turns around.

"Please. Y'all have to trust me on this. We can't stay in the cars. We can't," Dixie says, a pleading look in his eyes.

The others look torn.

"Y'all, I think Dixie might be right 'bout this one," South Carolina says.

"Yeah. Let's just see if there's anything to stay in for the night. I ain't sleeping on the floor," Texas says, leaving the "again" unspoken.

There are a few more minutes of walking until they stumble upon an abandoned building. It looks like it used to be a homely one-story cabin. Now, both front windows are broken, and one is boarded up. It looks abandoned, but not unstable. The logs making up the outside walls are thick and dark.

"Hey Coco, wanna help me and New Mex search to make sure there's no one already here?" Texas asks.

Colorado nods and a group of four states walk in, guns out, and clear the house. It takes only a few moments for them to reappear and wave everyone inside. Russia looks around and sees that the cabin only has one room and a curtain that used to be used to divide the space is ripped, and the entire interior is covered in pieces of discarded items.

"Who's keeping watch?" Dixie asks.

"I will," Connecticut volunteers.

A few other states volunteer, and Texas lays Russia down on one of the blankets that had been put on the ground, his back against the wall. America snuggles up next to him, laying in his lap. Once America lies down, the states follow. Before he knew it, Russia finds himself surrounded by a huge group of people shuffling around. A bit of complaining rang out, but it quiets quickly. Surrounded by people, and America tucked under his arm, Russia feels warm.

The younger children try their best to push their way to the center of the group to America. When America was covered, some of them even took places against Russia.

Russia didn't know what to do. He knew there wasn't much to do, with his limited movement, but being surrounded like this, made him feel shielded, almost protected. Although he wanted to be the one doing the protecting, having all these people who seemed to trust him, surrounding him.

He felt less exposed.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

Russia doesn't remember when he'd drifted off, but he woke up to the sound of a muffled walkie talkie and shuffling outside the building.

Even if he could move, he lays frozen in terror.

He stares around and sees that the people who were on watch had drifted off against one of the walls, except for Dixie. Dixie stares up with wide eyes at the window behind Russia's head, in his hands is a shotgun. Dixie meets Russia's eyes and brings a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

"What are we even looking for?" a voice says.

"The people who were in those cars," a second voice replies, a deeper tone than the first.

'Who is that?'

"But how do we even know they're here?"

"This is the direction they left too."

'Oh no. What are they doing here? Are they some of the soldiers that were chasing us? They have to be.'

Russia tries to keep his breathing as calm as he can manage. In through the nose and out through the mouth. He had to keep quiet. He had to.

"Well, what cars were they supposed to be driving anyway?"

"..."

"You're no help."

"Well, the cars are empty. I opened 'em up and checked. You think anyone's in here?"

"Nah. Listen, I'm f***ing freezing, and I don't want to be walking around here any longer than I gotta be. Besides, it's almost dawn and the cars are cold. We'll just tell 'em we found a few cars from an old wreck. I am not going in there."

"We have to investigate. We can't just go back without looking."

'Please don't. Please don't,' Russia mentally begs.

"Oh, but why? It looks empty anyway and I don't want to run into any rattlesnakes."

There is a long sigh.

"Fine, we'll go back to the patrol car. But we are keeping watch."

"Yes."

The footsteps lead away, and the crackling leads away from the cabin's wall. Russia holds his breath until he hears a nearby car roar to life.

"Wha-" America starts, rubbing his face.

Dixie shushed him harshly. America falls silent and looks up to Russia.

"What's going on?" he mouths.

Russia shakes his head. When America begins to sit up, Russia sloppily puts his arm on America's back, trying to pull him down. America relents, giving Russia a confused and panicked look.

'Please, don't say anything. Please. They're too close. Please stay quiet. Please.'

America stares into his eyes.

America looks away and closes his mouth, still looking confused, but he puts his head back down into Russia's lap.

The car speeds around the area, and Russia can still almost make out some of the conversations the soldiers were having around the area as they would occasionally get out and continue to stray closer and closer to the cabin. Russia feels paralyzed, and the look on Dixie's face makes Russia believe that he felt the same.

America still looks confused but doesn't argue, but instead of speaking, he just stares around, confused by the sounds around them. Then, the soldiers' conversations became intelligible again.

"Boss is not gonna be happy," the deeper voice says.

"And? I told you, I was looking through those windows and didn't see anybody."

"We should still check before we go."

Dixie clutches the gun tighter.

"Well, I don't hear anything. And besides, no one tried to run. Face it, no one is here."

"Then, what's with the cars?"

"They were cold when we got here. And no one was sleeping in them. Come on, let's get back to Lambda. Our shift is almost over anyway."

"I'm still gonna look."

Then he hears them walk around the house. America hurriedly sits up and pulls Russia down on top of him, curling around his head. America used his back to muffle the sound. America flinches after hitting the ground but doesn't make a sound.

Russia could have sworn he felt someone staring right at him.

'Please, no. No. NO. Please don't see us. Please.'

He could feel someone staring a hole into his side.

He bits his lip and tries to stay as still as he could. He hopes, prays that no one saw his subtle shivering.

There are a few moments of silence before the footsteps continue.

"Looks like it might be a couple of druggy squatters. Guess you were right."

"I told you!"

"Let's head back to base. Maybe they turned around and went the other way."

"That's what I've been saying!"

The footsteps trail away. The car started back up. He heard both doors open and both people get in, talking about something he hadn't listened to.

They drove off. Once the engine was out of earshot, America whines.

"America," he tries to say. His voice doesn't cooperate, and his mouth feels full of cotton.

America hisses in pain.

"I think I may have ripped the stitches or something," America stammers out quietly, his voice soaked in pain.

Dixie slowly pokes his head up, peeking out the windows. Once he does, he quickly makes his way over to America. the states silently shuffle out of his way.

"Why did you do that?!" Dixie hisses.

"He would've seen Russia," America defends, shaking.

Then Dixie gasps. "Oh my god, there's blood everywhere," he mutters.

Texas pulls Russia away and Massachusetts hurries forward. Virginia and Delaware herd the other states away to give California and New York enough space to work.

"Dad. You need to be more f***ing careful," Massachusetts hisses, summoning a dull green light.

New York and California quickly approach and Russia watches on, helpless as America tries not to thrash about while California and New York examine his wound. New York curses under his breath and Louisiana helps disinfect their hands and she sits nearby with Georgia, ready to step in if needed.

'What do we do now?'

~

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[puckmeupfam]

Locked Down | Tyson Jost

Word Count: 1969 Note: This is my first time writing non-headcanon-y fanfic, but Tyson is my... exactly my type so here goes nothing

It was probably a mistake to bring your boyfriend back to your hometown for the holidays. You knew this. It wasn’t that you were worried that your parents wouldn’t like him. No, Tyson puts his hand on the small of your back and leans in to check on you randomly throughout the day which makes your mom give you a knowing look. And his mom raised him to go in the kitchen, put on an apron, and ask to be put to work - even if he was hopeless. Tyson was any parent’s dream boyfriend. The problem was that your family, and specifically your female relatives, had the tendency to be a bit overbearing… especially when it came to your love life.

“(Y/N), can you come help me in the kitchen for a minute,” your mother called. Your hand was in Tyson’s and your legs were intertwined so he also rose to follow you. “Not you Tyson, dear, you just relax,” she said. You looked back at Tyson to see him shrug and go back to watching the cheesy Netflix movie. Your fuzzy sock covered feet shuffled to the kitchen where your mom was waiting. “What do you need,” you asked as you entered to which your mom replied with a belabored sigh. “I don’t actually need anything,” she gave you a duh look which made you feel more like you were back in middle school than a grown adult talking with your mother. “I just wanted to talk to you about that boyfriend of yours,” your mom said with a smirk. Now you were the one sighing. You move to slouch against the counter as your mom keeps talking.

“I think we were all just wondering when you were going to lock that down.”

“Mother,” you gasped. This made that damn smirk on her face grow. You and Tyson had been dating for less than a year, you had met his family during the playoffs and then again when you visited him in the off-season and the holidays had been his turn. All you had wanted was a peaceful trip. You had even thought it might be the best holiday season yet because you would have Tyson with you, but of course, your family had to meddle. He was the first boyfriend you had ever officially brought home. And ever since you were in high school there were always relative and family friends asking if you had a boyfriend yet or if you would be willing to go out with Janet’s “very successful” grandson. 

“Mom, we aren’t there yet,” you started, “we’re young and we haven’t been together long and Tyson has hockey.” Your mom rolled her eyes and batted her hand as if none of that mattered. “(Y/N), he’s a wonderful boy and all I’m saying is that your grandma is getting older and you know she would want to go to your wedding…” she told you. “Are you really trying to guilt me into getting married? This is a new low” you huffed. Your mom was sadly not one to stop pressing. “My veil is upstairs and, I mean, you really don’t want to wait too long.” You determinedly spun around to march out of the kitchen. As you reentered the living room you paused for a second as you saw Tyson curled up with a blanket on the sofa, seemingly enamored with the silly holiday movie. You moved to stand in front of him and reached both of your hands out for his. “Do you want to go somewhere,” you asked. Even though the movie seemed to be at its climax with the main character going through some kind of post-breakup montage, Tyson dutifully stood up and went with you as you pulled him to the door to get your coats, keys, and shoes. 

The sun went down so early in the winter so while it wasn’t that late it was dark out… and cold. Not quite raining or snowing, but there were wet flurries here and there as you walked down the path towards the car. Tyson hopped in the passenger’s seat because you knew the roads having grown up here. Both of you were quiet as you began to drive. There wasn’t a clear destination in your head. You headed towards the downtown part of the city where there was more to do, just hoping that something would jump out at you. That something that you had been waiting for jumped out at Tyson instead.

“Hey, hey, hey, (Y/N),” he blurted out excitedly. As you looked at what he was frantically pointing at you saw the outdoor ice rink. You looked back at him questioningly. “Tyson, you skate every day,” you said. “Yeah, but not with you,” he replied drawing out the last word. At that, you exaggeratingly raised your eyebrow thinking of the Avs family skate the two of you had gone to just over a week ago. He returned your look with puppy dog eyes that had you pulling into the first available parking spot. 

While you were waiting in line for your skates, Tyson hip-checked you and then pulled you back by your clasped hand. You thought he probably sensed that something was off. If your quietness wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fact that you rushed out of the kitchen and then promptly dragged him out of the house definitely was. He moved to wrap an arm around your waist and then kissed the top of your hair. Tyson had the wonderful quality of always being snuggly warm without overheating you so you pressed yourself against him in an attempt to warm up. 

Once you finally had your rented skates in hand, he insisted on tying them for you. Afterwards, he reached out a hand to pull you up. While you hadn’t been raised a skater in any sense, Tyson had worked hard to teach you on a few different occasions which meant that at this point you could solidly skate around without falling. As your skating ability increases so did his ability to tease you while skating. When you first started he couldn’t even move from your death grip without you panicking, but now that you could keep yourself steady he could pull you faster or be otherwise obnoxious to make you laugh. In this case, it meant Tyson trying to spin you under his arm like you were ballroom dancing. This meant that you would inevitably stumble into his chest, both of you in fits of giggles. 

That was one of your favorite parts of dating Tyson. He had an uncanny ability to cheer you up. If you had a bad day at work he would put on a production of singing ‘00s pop songs until tears were streaming down your face from laughing so hard. When he was in Edmonton and you were still in Colorado, he sent you a framed picture of himself with a note that said, “just because I know you miss me sooooooooooooo much.” Now here he was spinning you around an outdoor rink in your hometown, being perfect one again. 

As the night grew on, the other skaters began to clear out which left just you, Tyson, and a group of three teenagers still on the ice. The two of you were skating more calmly while you chatted quietly about random things - some prank he had played on JT, a story Grandpa Jost had told about his band practice, a project you were doing at work. Eventually, he pulled you to the side of the rink so that you faced each other. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened,” he asked with a knowing look on his face. You tried to play dumb and put on your best I have no idea what you’re talking about face. Tyson sighed, “do you really think I’ll believe that you just happened to storm out of the kitchen and drag me out for no reason?” He clearly had you cornered but in a last ditch effort you tried to steer the conversation away one more time: “I thought you were having fun! You’re the one who wanted to go skating.” Tyson crossed his arms and gave you a look which told you he wasn’t going to let you avoid the question.

“Okay, fine. My mom was just pressuring me… about you. And I needed a break,” you told him. As you looked back up to make eye contact you could see Tyson’s face drop. “Oh,” he said, “I thought they liked me.” Your heart broke at how sad he looked. It was clear that he really was trying hard to impress them and valued their opinion of him. Even though you would rather not tell him just how much your family liked him, you knew that you had to. It might make things a bit awkward - not because he would get scared off, but because you knew that he would likely tease you incessantly - but it would at least take the kicked puppy look off of your boyfriend’s face.

You sighed, “no Tyson, they fucking loved you, that’s the problem.” The sad look on his face diminished slightly, curiosity taking its place. “My mom may have been asking me when I was going to lock that down,” you told him, making air quotes around the final words. At this, Tyson broke out into a wide smile, “I see.” He spun away a bit and broke out into Gracie Hart’s, “you think I’m gorgeous, you wanna daaaate me, love me, and marry me!” You put your hands to your red face and began skating towards him as he waggled his eyebrows and did a little dance. “Tyson it’s not funny,” you whined. At this point you had reached the other side of the rink as he wrapped his arms around your waist and once again pressed you against the rail. 

“Seriously though, (Y/N), like, I see a future with you… You’re my favorite person and when I do get “locked down” I want you to do it.” He was clearly trying to make it a bit of a joke in case you didn’t respond the same way, but it still took you aback. In all honesty, you loved Tyson and couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. “Well, yeah, I’m hopelessly in love with you, Tys. But that doesn’t mean that I want my mom shoving her veil in my hands,” you were mumbling into his chest, but he heard you. “Yeah, I still have to buy a ring… hire a flashmob, all that stuff,” he teased. You jokingly pushed him away which made him laugh loudly while pulling you back into him. 

With both of you feeling content and the night air getting colder and colder you went back to your parent’s house for the night. You entered the front door, instantly feeling the warmth from the fireplace. The adults who were staying over were in similar positions to how you left them. They seemed to be playing some sort of card game around the coffee table. You waved to everyone as you pulled Tyson with you towards the stairs. Right before you would be out of their view, Tyson stopped and turned around.

“(Y/M/N), I’ll give you a heads up of when to pull out the veil, okay?” he shouted down. You looked to see a massive grin take over your mom’s face. “Tyson!” you chastized before running up the stairs to follow his giggling form to your room. Embarrassment and meddling mothers aside, you felt light and happy knowing that you and Tyson were in it for the long haul. The two of you had countless more giggly, teasing nights ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.

[aion-rsa]

The United States of TV High Schools

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The 2020 back-to-school season is a particularly complicated and emotionally fraught one. Students, teachers, and parents across the country and the world have to alter their usual education routines in the interest of social distancing and public health. It’s certainly a difficult, stressful time for many. But thankfully, that’s why the pop culture gods created television.

American high schools on television are much more consistent, comfortable places that the real ones, even when they’re being terrorized by monsters (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Satan himself (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina), or worst of all: Samuel “Screech” Powers (Saved by the Bell). The landscape of fictional TV high schools is a rich and diverse one. But there are quite a few of them. And that raises the question: where are all these places anyway?

Here we have researched and gathered the location of every notable TV high school we can find. Some are set in real cities in real states, some are set in fictional cities in real states, and some are just off the grid entirely. So without further ado, here are the high school settings of some of TV’s most popular young adult shows. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Sunnydale California

Sunnydale High School

Sunnydale is a peaceful California town. It has all your usual features – nice people, great restaurants, a gateway known as the Hellmouth that connects our dimension to demons. Buffy and the rest of her Scooby gang attended Sunnydale High before moving on to University of California at Sunnydale. Sunnydale is fictional but is very likely analogous to the real-life Sunnyvale, California.

Saved by the Bell – Pacific Palisades, California

Bayside High School

Bayside High School is one of the most enduring concepts from Saved by the Bell’s four seasons. Some TV shows take place in high schools. Saved by the Bell is a high school show. The city in which Bayside resides is never revealed but filming occurred in the Pacific Palisades neighborhood of Los Angeles.

The O.C. – Newport Beach, California

Harbor High School

The grandiose Harbor High School was enough to give many a young millennial in the mid-2000s supreme high school envy. Imagine walking around in the beautiful Orange County weather as Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie) and Seth Cohen (Adam Brody) reminisce about that morning’s perfect bagel breakfast. Newport Beach is a real city in California. Harbor High School is semi-fictional in that the new high school in Newport Beach is known as Newport Harbor High School. Private Catholic college Mount Saint Mary’s stands in for Harbor High on the show. 

Teen Wolf – Beacon Hills, California

Beacon Hills High School

The fictional town of Beacon Hills, California is the main setting of MTV’s beloved 2011 Teen Wolf reboot. The town is supposedly named as such due to its “beacon” effect in attracting supernatural creatures. Many of those teenage supernatural creatures prowl the halls of Beacon Hills High School. 

Veronica Mars – Neptune, California

Neptune High School

Neptune, California is one of the most well thought-out fictional cities in the high school drama canon. It has some detailed geographical features, a thriving local government, and even its own 90909 zip code! Neptune High has a similarly lived-in feel. Don’t forget to get those Pirate points, everyone! The real city of Oceanside, California stood in for much of Neptune and Neptune High. 

13 Reasons Why – Crestmont, California

Liberty High School 

Due to ease of filming, many fictional California high schools reside in the southern part of the state. Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why switches things up a bit by taking place in NoCal. Crestmont is the town named in the books the TV series is based on. In the show, the characters hail from the Evergreen County that surrounds it. Liberty High School is where the youth of 13 Reasons Why go to learn…and also learn devastating truths about one another. 

Community – Greendale, Colorado

Greendale Community College

Greendale Community College isn’t technically a high school, but many within the show’s universe would argue that a degree from Greendale is basically on par with a high school education. Greendale has a rich fictional history dating back to the 1970s and including real life actor Luis Guzman as an alum. Community creator Dan Harmon based Greendale on his own experiences at Glendale Community College in California. 

Gilmore Girls – Stars Hollow, Connecticut

Stars Hollow High School

Stars Hollow is crucial to the mythology and success of Gilmore Girls. The town is a fictional hamlet 30 miles outside of Hartford, Connecticut and was loosely based on the real life towns of Washington Depot, West Hartford, and New Millford. Series creator Amy Sherman-Palladino is originally from Los Angeles and was inspired to set her new series in Connecticut following a vacation to the Mayflower Grace hotel in Washington, Connecticut. Stars Hollow High is where Rory Gilmore gets her education. The school’s sports teams are the Minutemen. 

Stranger Things – Hawkins, Indiana

Hawkins High School

The Internet is flooded with queries as to whether Hawkins, Indiana of Stranger Things is a real place. It is not, and that is certainly for the best otherwise our own world would be teeming with monsters from the Upside-Down. Hawkins High School is the location of some truly traumatic events in Stranger Things from the Demogorgon’s destruction to the Snowball Dance.

Dawson’s Creek – Capeside, Massachusetts

Capeside High School

Dawson’s Creek creator Kevin Williamson intended for this ‘90s teen show to take place in his native North Carolina. WB executives had other plans, however, and wanted the show set in Boston. Williamson came up with a compromise by creating the fictional Cape Cod hamlet, Capeside, Massachusetts. The show was mostly filmed in Wilmington, North Carolina. Capeside High School is where Dawson, Pacey, Joey, Jen, and the rest of the crew got their education…when they weren’t hanging out at that darn creek. 

Freaks and Geeks – Chippewa, Michigan

William McKinley High School

Though many things in Michigan are named after the Chippewa tribe, including Chippewa County, there actually isn’t a city bearing that name. That makes this Detroit suburb on Freaks and Geeks entirely fictional. Chippewa is named after Chippewa Valley High School that creator Paul Feig attended. The school is named after 25th U.S. President William McKinley. For some reason, he’s a pretty popular choice for fictional school names…perhaps because his tenure in office was short and he doesn’t have a lot of real high schools named after him.

Gossip Girl – New York, New York

Constance Billard School for Girls

Well, this is a first for our list. Gossip Girl is set on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and its depiction of a gaudy all-girls high school is in keeping with that community’s ostentatious displays of wealth. Serena van der Wooden, Blair Waldorf and friends all attend Constance Billard School for Girls where many alumni go on to attend prestigious colleges. Constance Billard’s “sister” school is St. Jude’s School for Boys.

Roswell – Roswell, New Mexico

Roswell High School

This one is a bit of a layup as The WB’s (later CW’s) supernatural teenage series Roswell is adapted from the Roswell High book series. Of course, Roswell High School was always going to play a big role in this one. The 2018 reboot continues to take place in Roswell High School in Roswell, New Mexico.

One Tree Hill – Tree Hill, North Carolina

Tree Hill High School

One Tree Hill takes its name from a U2 song off of Joshua Tree…and also from the fact that it’s set in Tree Hill, North Carolina. Tree Hill is fictional but the show was chiefly filmed in Wilmington, North Carolina. Tree Hill High School is a big factor on One Tree Hill, especially since the town is so fond of the Tree Hill Ravens boys basketball team.

Glee – Lima, Ohio

William McKinley High School

For many of the kids on Glee, their biggest fear in life is never amounting to anything after high school and becoming a “Lima Loser.” This is because Glee is set in the (real) Ohio city, Lima, which is about 80 miles south of Toledo. Of course, as Glee went on, the Lima setting came to be quite ridiculous as more and more famous people just happened to be traipsing through town but that’s a topic for another time. The high school from which the titular glee club operates out of is once again William McKinley High School (like Freaks and Geeks and The Wonder Years).

A.P. Bio – Toledo, Ohio

Whitlock High School

Northwest Ohio turns out to be surprisingly fertile territory for fictional high schools. A.P. Bio is set in Toledo (which is a real place obviously) as a nod from the show’s creator Mike O’Brien to his hometown. It’s unclear why the high school that Jack Griffin teaches at is known as Whitlock but it’s got a pretty strong color scheme with gold and blue and a cool Ram mascot. 

My So-Called Life – Three Rivers, Pennsylvania

Liberty High School

Three Rivers is a fictional suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. And that’s fitting given that Pittsburgh sits on three rivers – the Allegheny, the Monongahela, and the Ohio. “Three Rivers” is often used in many brands from the city. Within Three Rivers is Liberty High School, which was attended by Angela Chase and friends. The My So-Called Life Wiki actually has a class schedule for each character if that’s something you might be interested in. Exterior shots of the school are of University High School in Los Angeles. 

Pretty Little Liars – Rosewood, Pennsylvania

Rosewood High School

From one side of Pennsylvania to the other. Freeform’s pulpy teenage mystery series is set in Rosewood, Pennsylvania, which is a fictional suburb of Philadelphia. The setting might be loosely based on the real Rosemont, Pennsylvania. The Liars spend much of their time at Rosewood High School before matriculating to nearby Hollis College.

Boy Meets World – Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

John Adams High School

Boy Meets World takes place in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and its suburbs. The characters don’t frequently make mention of their surroundings and current city, but the show does confirm it…as if all the Flyers, Phillies, ‘76ers, and Eagles paraphernalia didn’t make it obvious. Boy Meets World starts with Cory Matthews in Jefferson Elementary before moving onto John Adams High School and eventually Pennbrook University.

Friday Night Lights – Dillon, Texas

Dillon High School

Once more with feeling: Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose. Friday Night Lights, both the brilliant NBC series and multimedia franchise around it, has deep ties to Texas. The show is set in the fictional western Texas town of Dillon (and eventually East Dillon). But Buzz Bissinger’s original book and the movie it was adapted into take place in the real western Texas town of Odessa. Both Odessa and Dillon’s respective football teams are known as the Panthers. Friday Night Lights, the show, did the majority of its filming in and around Austin, Texas for all five seasons. It’s a miracle the actors were able to stay in shape with all that barbecue floating around. 

The Vampire Diaries – Mystic Falls, Virginia

Mystic Falls High School

A lot of these small towns have a “dark secret,” huh? Mystic Falls, Virginia’s dark secret is that it has a long history of vampires, werewolves, and witches dating back to its founding in the 1800s. Mystic Falls High School is where many of those attractive young vampires, werewolves, and witches get their education. Mystic Falls is a fictional town in Virginia located between Lynchburg and Charlottesville. It’s name in the Vampire Diaries book series was “Fell’s Church” but the TV show had to change that due to it being too similar to the real city of Fall’s Church, Virginia.

That ‘70s Show – Point Place, Wisconsin

Point Place High School

Point Place, Wisconsin and its accompanying Point Place High School are both fictional locations where Eric Foreman, Jackie Burkhart, Michael Kelso, Steven Hyde, Donna Pinciotti, and Fez all live and attend school. What’s interesting about Point Place, Wisconsin is that it does not seem to have a consistent location within the state. At times it is described as a suburb of Green Bay in the north. Other times, however, the characters are able to make it to Kenosha in the south in no time at all. Point Place High School is located at 2120 South Michigan Ave., which is a reference to a Rolling Stones instrumental track recorded at the same address in Chicago.

Riverdale – Riverdale, ???

Riverdale High School

Where is gritty Archieverse teen drama, Riverdale, set? Uh…well, Riverdale. Where is Riverdale? Your guess is as good as ours. Many fans have selected New York state as the most likely location. The series describes Riverdale as being in Rockland County. The only Rockland County in the U.S. is in New York, close to Archie Comics’ headquarters in Pelham, New York. Wherever Riverdale may be, the school that Archie and friends attend is Riverdale High School. Its colors are blue and gold and its teams are called the Bulldogs. 

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – Greendale, ???

Baxter High School

In the Archieverse canon that contains Riverdale and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Greendale is a neighboring town to Riverdale, on the opposite side of the Sweetwater River. Greendale, like a shocking amount of fictional U.S. towns, is built over a mouth to hell. Baxter High School is Greendale’s local public high school, attended by Sabrina Spellman and her friends. Its sports teams are known as the Ravens and they are Riverdale’s archrivals. 

Daria – Lawndale, ???

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Lawndale High School

What name could better capture the bland suburban ennui of MTV’s Daria than “Lawndale?” Lawndale is not a real place and Daria’s co-creator, Glenn Eichler, won’t even commit to setting it in a particular state, noting only that it is probably a mid-Atlantic suburb of a city like Baltimore. Lawndale High School is one of the most frequently occurring settings within Lawndale and where Daria and Jane go to stand around lockers and be cynical.

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