#but i have had Too Many Bevs to do so

[zmediaoutlet]

NEXT please! gonna send you this 400 times and set up a sprinto session for you

o shit

NEXT — the next line. meaning i will finish the sentence I’m on and write a new one, which you’ll get.

for ch3 of the Court of Nightblooming Flowers, uhhhhhh fuck--

She hobbles convincingly along the colonnade, her staff tapping on the parquet in the anticipatory silence, and Jared should watch with the rest when she raises the blackthorn and cries out—when the trumpets again sound, and the crowd cheers—but he's watching across the hall to where Eglantine is assembled, and the Winter Queen is no match for the poet he's sought.

[firewasabeast]

Heyy I'm still under the uncle eddie fic spell. So maybe the first time buck and tommy hold their little babygirl? 🥹

Will I ever be able to write a prompt quickly? Unlikely! Juniper has us all wrapped though, let's be honest. tw: brief mention of child death from SIDS and a stillbirth

“Her lungs were a little underdeveloped,” the social worker, Bev, told Buck over the phone, “so the hospital had kept her for observation. The day her mom was released, she left and never came back. She's one week old, healthy as can be now, and yours if you and Tommy want her to be.”

Buck had no memory of the words that came out of his mouth when he got back to the table. Everyone was at Bobby's for dinner. They all gave him bewildered expressions before they realized what he was trying to say, then everyone was up and congratulating them.

Buck didn't linger in the celebration. He had a daughter to go pick up from the hospital.

He ran out to the truck with Tommy following behind him. He looked overwhelmed, and a little nauseous, but Buck knew he was excited. They'd been waiting for this for so long.

It went beyond Buck and Tommy's time together. They'd both wanted kids since they were young. Both had a spell of believing it would never happen for them. Then they found each other, and everything started to fall into place.

Until it didn't.

They'd been married for six months when they started the adoption process. Even after talking with Karen and Hen, they were naive to it all.

There were so many children out there waiting for a family, they felt like it would happen quickly. They'd have a baby before they knew it!

Except that wasn't reality. Reality was getting your heart broken over and over by a faulty system that does next-to-nothing to protect children and get them into safe homes.

It was a couple who didn't want their baby, but didn't want a gay couple to have it either.

It was a two year old who was forced to go with her biological father instead, even though he'd been arrested three times.

It was a four month old boy who died of SIDS the night before they headed to San Francisco to pick him up.

It was a mother who changed her mind.

A stillbirth.

And just when the feeling had started to creep back in, that maybe they'd never get to be parents, it was a call that put everything back in it's proper place.

The carseat was already in the truck. Tommy had left it there after last time. Couldn't bring himself to remove it and put it back in the garage.

They had to run home for the diaper bag. It had been packed and repacked for nearly two years. The sizing of the clothes changed, colors too, but it was always ready to go... just in case.

After tossing in some newborn and size one clothes, they rushed to the hospital.

Buck's heart was pounding. His whole body was shaking like he'd downed three red bulls in a row.

Tommy wasn't doing much better. His hands were resting on Buck's back, but he kept tapping his fingers on him like Buck was a piano.

The nurse, Angie, came out, a bright smile on her face. “Come on back, dads,” she said, waving them in her direction.

Buck was tearing up already. He couldn't even look over at Tommy. He knew if he did, he'd fall apart.

They had moved her to a private room, so Buck and Tommy could be with her without disturbing the other babies and parents in the nursery.

Angie led the way into the room. Bev was already in there. She looked just as excited as they felt.

Tommy's hand moved from Buck's back down his arm, intertwining their hands tightly.

When she reached the bassinet she leaned over and picked up the little girl.

Buck gasped the second he saw her. Her hair light brown and curly, clinging to her head. She had a button nose, and pink skin. She was so small, like a little football wrapped up in a blanket.

“Who wants to hold her first?” Angie asked.

Buck risked a glance at Tommy to see tears already running down his cheeks in a steady stream.

“You go,” he sniffed out. He squeezed Buck's hand before letting go. Angie brought her to him and he gently cradled her in his arms.

“Oh my,” he breathed out. She wiggled briefly, one arm popping out from under her blanket. Her lips smacked, eyes opened in a glare as she stretched. Then she was settled again, snuggled up close to Buck.

“Did you see her eyes?” Buck asked Tommy. “They look just like yours.”

He nodded, cleared his throat. “Yeah, I- I did. Evan, did you see her arm?”

Tommy gently placed his hand underneath her arm, bringing the birthmark on it into view under the dimmed lights.

The tears that had managed to stay in his eyes began falling when he noticed it. She had a birthmark similar to his. It was a bit smaller, not as bright, but otherwise a pretty close match.

Angie placed a hand on Buck's shoulder, staring up at the boys. “I think she was meant for you two.”

Bev moved closer to the pair, her heels clicking on the floor with each step. “You'll have some paperwork to sign, but I think we'll give you three a minute first.”

“I'll be back in to show you how to fix her bottles, and I've got some formula you can take home with you,” Angie explained. “You'll get to keep the blanket too. They're made by volunteers here at the hospital. But take your time, sit down, lay in the bed. Babies like skin to skin contact, so you may want to unbutton your shirt and let her rest on your chest.”

Tommy and Buck nodded along as she spoke, but they were both too entranced to take their eyes off of their baby girl.

The ladies left the room and Buck turned toward Tommy. “Your turn,” he said as Tommy wiped the tears from his face.

“Let me wash my hands first.” He went to the sink and cleaned up, then headed over to the reclining chair and sat down. “Okay.”

Buck smiled. He walked to Tommy and placed the girl in his arms. She looked so small against him. Her whole body was scrunched up, and she was sleeping soundly. Buck didn't want to judge, knew it wasn't right to, he had no idea what her mom had been through, but he couldn't imagine walking away from such a perfect human being.

Tommy held her so gently, like she was made of glass. He held a finger to her hand and she wrapped her own tiny fingers around it. “She's strong,” he noted with a laugh. “Probably stubborn too, like you.”

“Hey now,” Buck teased. “I am not stubborn.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I'm not!” He whined.

“Okay, Evan, you're not stubborn.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy brought the baby closer to his face, like he was telling her a secret, “If I didn't agree, Daddy would keep going.”

Buck kneeled down in front of them. “Don't listen to papa,” he said, stroking her arm gently. “He's only right like twenty percent of the time.”

Tommy grinned over at Buck, who was smiling back with fresh tears building in his eyes. “We're really parents, Evan,” Tommy said in disbelief. “Like, for real now.”

“I know. I can't believe it.”

“Me either.”

They were both quiet for a moment, soaking up every second with their girl, then Buck asked. “What are we gonna name her?”

Tommy snorted out a laugh. “I was just wondering the same thing. We'll think of something.”

*****

They spent more time with her, Tommy taking a picture of Buck and her together, their birthmarks front and center, and sent it out in a group chat. Buck had been in the midst of another crying session at that point, but it didn't matter. It was the best picture Tommy had ever taken, he was sure of it.

Angie came back in loaded down with formula, a couple of bottles, and instructions on feedings. She'd been with the baby most of the week, so she knew her schedule like clockwork. Tommy and Buck were endlessly grateful for her.

While Tommy signed his part of the paperwork with Bev, Buck changed their daughter's diaper. As he was wrapping her back up, he paid more attention to her blanket. It was a yellow blanket with trees scattered around it.

“Junipers,” Buck mumbled, mostly to himself.

“What's that, Babe?” Tommy asked. He handed the pen back to Bev and walked over to them.

“Oh, nothing, it's- her blanket has Juniper plants on it. It's different.”

They both seemed to come to the realization at the same time. They stared at each other, then Tommy nodded. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

They looked down at her just as her eyes opened, bright blue with specks of hazel watching her dads closely.

“Madelyn for the middle name?” Buck asked. They'd been discussing using Madelyn since they first decided to adopt. For Maddie, of course, but also for Tommy's mom. Her name was Lynn, and she had passed when Tommy was fairly young. He only had a few, but all fond, memories of her.

Tommy picked her back up, her lips turning up into a little grin. “Juniper Madelyn Buckley-Kinard. It's perfect.”

[pookietv]

online embarrassment (part two!) | arthurtv

a dedication to @casualvanilla into bullying me to write a part two :3

being curious about arthur and his seemingly strange occupation choice, in your eyes at least, of commentating 90 day fiance, you decided that you may as well watch a little of the show, seeing if you could see what made it so interesting.

especially since you and him had been talking much more frequently, playing a couple of games of chess together most evenings, over discord calls and instagram messages

and your curiosity had definitely been quashed once you had watched as much as you could stomach of insanely dysfunctional relationships, exploitation and men going for women far too young for them.

so, with your newfound knowledge, you decided to text arthur again.

youruser: why is literally every couple on 90 day fiance either insanely malfunctioning or borderline exploitative

arthurtv: ah, i see you have exposed yourself to the world of discovery+

arthurtv: and in all honesty, that is kind of the grim premise of the show, a kind of strangely twisted curiosity makes us all watch them fall apart

youruser: grim is definitely the word for it

arthurtv: so are you doing anything tonight?

youruser: unfortunately, i have little plans that don't involve reading so many academic journals until my eyeballs fall out :(

arthurtv: i never even asked you what you study?

youruser: oh, i study politics with a focus on international law right now :)

arthurtv: no way! i studied law when i was at uni

youruser: when was that, fifteen years ago?

arthurtv: ha ha very funny i am twenty eight

arthurtv: ps, you're almost as dedicated to your uni work as you are to your outrageous bishop sacrifices

youruser: anyway, are you doing anything tonight?

arthurtv: going round to some of my friends house cause he's forcing us to rewatch the lord of the rings series

arthurtv: though that is fair enough because i have forced him to watch harry potter so many times

youruser: i've never even seen harry potter

arthurtv: WHAT

youruser: oopsie

youruser: just never got round to it

arthurtv: you need to watch it!!!!

youruser: it just doesn't seem like my kind of thing!

arthurtv: we can't be friends anymore smh

youruser: that sounds great! blocking you rn

arthurtv: shut up you

arthurtv: anyway, i had an idea, if you're down

youruser: and what would that idea be

arthurtv: i think we should meet up and play actual chess on an actual chessboard (and maybe drink a few bevs)

youruser: well, i mean, i don't even know if i should be meeting you, after all you are the Insane Chess Killer Man >:)

youruser: and if i didn't know any better, sounds like you're describing a date

arthurtv: hm that's a good point, i was looking for a new victim

youruser: are you referencing the insane chess killing or the date as the victim?

arthurtv: you can't see me but i am rolling my eyes so hard right now

youruser: okay, a truce on the serial killer jokes

arthurtv: thank god. what about tomorrow night?

youruser: drunk chess and a takeaway sounds good to me

youruser: the classiest first date

so that was that, he had texted you his address and to come round at seven so he could, in his words, destroy you in chess.

after a long day at uni and a slight worry, though you didn't know why, about meeting him, you started to get ready to go to his house.

since you were just going to his house, you settled on some flared leggings and a soft blue jumper, tying your hair into a somewhat tamed ponytail before looking in the mirror, making sure your light makeup hadn't smudged too much after a day of back to back lectures and discussion groups.

he didn't live too far from you, surprisingly, just a couple tube stops away, so you decided to walk, about twenty five minutes to his apartment, in a block of flats facing the river thames, and as you arrived at the building and pressed the button in the elevator for his floor, slightly picking at your nails with nerves.

what if it was insanely awkward in person? or what if he is a weird catfish looking for victims on chess websites? that seemed insane, right?

but your mind was working overtime as the buttons lit up and the elevator door opened, and you tried to unfurrow your eyebrows and look for his door number, finding it towards the end of the hall.

you waited a moment before knocking, bringing your hand up and timidly rapping it against the dark wood of the door.

when it swung open, and you saw that he was indeed who he said he was, or at least who he was on his instagram pictures, you smiled a little in relief.

"arthur! hi, it's nice to meet you, well, in person, you know..." you giggled a slight bit quietly as he gave you a friendly hug.

"you too! didn't know if i was just being catfished or something," he joked a little awkwardly back.

"me a catfish? i figured you would be a catfish, what would i even be catfishing you for?" you joked back, and he shrugged.

"i don't know, i don't get many pretty girls randomly texting me cause we played chess together so i wasn't sure," he said a little embarrassed, and your cheeks went slightly pink when he called you pretty.

"well, who knew that the insane chess killer had a hidden talent for flattery," i laughed slightly as he welcomed me in, shutting the door behind me.

he rolled his eyes jokingly, "hey, based on the way you insulted me with no remorse during chess games i was expecting you to be terrifying, so you can't blame me for being surprised at how easy you are on the eyes," he grinned a little, and it was your turn to roll your eyes in return.

"anyway, come in, honestly just make yourself at home... unless you're worried about losing to me on my own turf," he joked.

"i mean, i'm kind of impressed by your 'turf'," you giggled, "it's nice for a guy that exploits reality tv for views," you teased and he laughed a little as he led you to his living room, a chessboard set up on his coffee table, pillows on either side on the floor to sit on.

"hey, low blow," he mockingly warned, "i'd watch it otherwise i'll conveniently lose your queen piece," he said before quickly standing to go to his kitchen, "i have southern comfort and lemonade, if that's okay with you? it's kind of my weird speciality drink," he smiled.

"well, i suppose i'll have to try the arthurtv special then," i nodded in return, and after a few moments, he returned with two glasses, placing them at either side of the table as he sat himself down on the side of the board playing black pieces.

"so we're going straight for the intellectual torture of chess?" you grinned as you sat opposite him, "the girls must find it so charming when you sit straight at the chess board on a date, hm?" you teased in retaliation.

"oh shut up you, and prepare to lose, again," he smiled as you moved your first piece, "at least my view will be nice when i crush you,"

as the game progressed, there was joking smack-talk thrown between you and arthur, neither of you focusing too much on the game but more on the subtle flirting between each move.

"that rook sacrifice was not your best work," he laughed, but you raised your eyebrow at him as you moved another piece,

"or maybe i was setting a trap that you didn't see, hm, mr. television?"

as he captured one of your pieces in return, his fingers gently brushed against yours and you grinned, before swatting his hand jokingly, "hey, focus on the game!" you giggled out as he laughed in return and nodded.

about half way through the game, the focus had shifted slightly from both being heartset on winning to enjoying one another's company, nattering on about arthur's job and your degree.

at one particular point, you stopped, looking down at the board, tongue slightly poking out of your mouth in concentration as your brain worked as quickly as it could, trying to analyse the best move.

"what're you thinking?" he asked as he shuffled slightly closer, and you could smell his cologne, a kind of vanilla and cedarwood scent as you tried your best to ignore it.

"i'm trying to strategise, unlike some of us who rely on distracting the other to win," you teased slightly, and you could hear him chuckle a little.

"i'm plenty distracted myself, hard not to be when you look cute like that when you concentrate so hard."

you paused a little at the flirting, trying not to let your cheeks flush bright red, "stop trying to put me off my game, arthur," you playfully smiled.

once a couple more moves had been played, arthur missed what was seemingly an obvious capture he could have made, which would have put you at a disadvantage, and once you quickly realised and made sure your piece was defended, you tilted your head a little - arthur didn't often make mistakes like that.

"i completely missed that, fuck sake!" he mumbled to himself with a small smile on his face.

after a while longer of playing, and a few moves you didn't think arthur would normally make, you had him in checkmate, a grin on your face.

"looks like we're gonna have to have a rematch at some point," he looked at the board and shrugged his shoulders a little.

you narrowed your eyes at him a little with a small smile, "did you throw the game so we could have a rematch?"

"i think i may use the lawyer lingo here and announce that i refuse to answer on the basis that i may implicate myself," he laughed a little to himself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It's a fine Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You walk around the market with your cone. Strawberry. You never really had ice cream much, not until Aunt Bev. It's good but sweet. The coldness makes your head ache. 

As you traverse the crowd, you grow overwhelmed. So many people in one place makes your head spin. Aunt Bev is too distracted by all the sights and sounds to notice when you drop your cone. You leave it on the ground and keep going. 

A girl stands behind a table of goods. Second-hand but pretty. Purses with hand-sewn patterns and crochet sweaters with frilly collars. They're cute. You browse from afar but don't point them out. A large blond man blocks her from your view and your nerves get the of you. 

As you look back to your aunt, you don't find her. Where is she? She was just there. 

You spin and search the crowd. She's not there. What happened? You only looked away for a moment. 

Your heart picks up as you stumble back. Your lashes flutter and your lungs burn. What do you do? You hug tight the flower pot with one arm, your other hand on your purse. Oh no, no, no. 

You turn and rush through the first opening you see. You just need to get in the clear then you can find her. You need somewhere to see her from. A vantage point to get your bearings.  

You keep telling yourself it will be okay but it doesn't feel okay. You rush past people, a smear of faces and bodies all around, the world a cacophony to your ears. You break free of the press and gasp for air. 

Just as you think you're free, you crash into something. Someone. You step back and look up. You know them.  

It's that flower seller. Cole. He barely catches the pot before it slips from your arm. 

“Hey, you alright?” He asks as he helps you get a hold of the daylilies. “Where's Bev?” 

You crane to see over your shoulder then look back to him. You shake your head and give a frazzled grimace. You can't even speak. 

“You lost her, didn't you?” He says, “no worries, you can hang out with me. Mrs. Lee was just watching my booth while I ran to the bathroom. I'm on my way back now.” 

You push your shoulders higher and bounce on your heels. You don't know what else to do. He's the only other familiar face there, even if he is a stranger still. 

You nod and clutch the plant tighter. He gestures you ahead of him and you step past him. He points you towards his stall, directing you with his voice. Even from behind, you can sense his size, you can feel how big he is. You know what damage someone your own size can wrought, so to even imagine what he could do, if he wanted, chills you to the bone. 

You slow as you near the table of plants and pots. He skirts around you, beckoning you behind the long table at the front. A woman with rosy cheeks smiles to greet him. 

“There you are. And you found a friend, no wonder you took so long,” she chides. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit hectic,” Cole rubs his forehead. 

“Oh, I understand,” she winks at you. 

“Mrs. Lee,” Cole motions to her as he introduces her, “you know Bev, this is her niece. She’s looking for her aunt.” 

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll find her,” Mrs. Lee says, “I’ll let her know if I see her. Cole will keep you good company.” 

“Ha, er, thanks, Mrs. Lee,” he sniffs, “I don’t wanna keep you any longer. Thanks for watching the booth.” 

“I tell you all the time, you should get some help,” she tuts, “see you around.” 

She waves at you as she sidles out from the booth and you watch her cross to her own, just across from Cole’s. He turns to you, sweeping back a stray shank of hair back into a fluffy swoop. You look around nervously. You feel bad for intruding. You’d hate to get in his way. 

“Here, sit,” he outstretches his arm to the chair as he touches your shoulder. 

He surprises you and you wince away from him. You don’t argue. You shouldn’t. He’s being nice and he’s trying to help you. Even if you never asked. Even if you barely know him. He gives you a smile and lifts his chin, peering around over the heads of the crowd around him. 

You sit and cross your ankles. You rock nervously as you find yourself walled in by the flowers. There isn’t much space between you and Cole. He’s distracted from his search by some approaching customers. He serves them in the same gentle tone he had you and Aunt Bev.  

You feel worse the longer you sit there. You’re like a child. You just turned twenty-five and you’re still just a burden to everyone. 

You feel your pulse racing and your ears thrumming. The longer you sit there, the more helpless you feel. Your vision skews and you put your chin down, staring at the yellow petals as you try to rein in your panic. Will Aunt Bev come find you? 

“You okay?” Cole’s voice makes you flinch. 

You look up at him and just stare. A droplet of sweat rolls down from your hairline as the sun beats into your scalp. He grabs the bottle of water from beneath the front table and bends to look you in the eye. You shy away as he puts the back of his fingers to your cheek. 

“You’re pretty warm. You should have something to drink,” he advises as he pulls back his hand to uncap the bottle, “here. It’s fresh. Yours.” 

You look at him dumbly then the bottle. You move the pot to balance on your lap, one hand on the rim, as you take the water with your other. You shakily hold it and put it to your lips. You are awfully thirsty. 

“Is that—Cole!” Your aunt calls shrilly and appears on the other side of the table, “oh thank god! I’ve been running around searching everywhere. You found her.” She touches her chest, a swoon trembling on her lip, “oh, how can I ever thank you?" 

Cole turns, standing straight. Once more his figure makes you feel even smaller. 

“No need. She was just hanging out,” he turns his hands out, “no big deal, right? Everyone’s in one piece. Lost and found.” 

“Oh, but you didn’t have to...” she fans herself and glances at you. You don’t miss the gesture she tries to make subtle as she beckons him further down the table. You look at the flowers as she lowers her voice. You can’t make out her words but you assume she’s warning him about you. 

“Honey, we should go,” she chirps as Cole backs up, “Lena will be worried.” 

“Alright,” you stand, hands full as your purse slips to dangle at your elbow. 

Cole faces you and you can barely look at him. It isn’t just that he frightens you, it’s his expression. It must be whatever your aunt told him. 

“Thanks,” you croak as you near and offer him the bottle back. 

“Keep it,” he says as he shows his palms, “please. Go. Have a happy birthday.” 

You put your head down and brush by him. It’s tight behind the table but he could move more, couldn’t he? Your aunt clings to your arm as you come close. 

“Oh, Cole, you are a life saver,” she says, “I owe you one.” She tugs you away from the flowers, “come on, hon. Are you okay?” 

You nod as you let her usher you away. You’ve had enough excitement for one day, even your birthday. You just want to go back to her house and figure out where to plant the daylilies. You know that won’t be what happens. You have to paste on a smile and eat cake, be the good girl you were raised to be. 

🪻

The sun bores down on your back as you keep your head down to the light. You sit amid the soil, pulling out errant weeds as you check the stems and petals for any signs of pest. There is only you and the smell of dirt, the vibrance of a multitude of hues, and the low hum of insects crawling and flying around the lush garden. 

In those moments, you can forget. There is no noise in your head, there are no memories, there is only beauty. Time is nothing. You exist in a standstill. 

"How lucky I am to have a diligent little gardener," Aunt Bev frightens you from your foiliage-induced meditation, "it looks wonderful out here. I'm afraid if it were up to me, it may have all turned brown." 

"Oh, uh," you fall of your knees, sitting on your bum as you turn to see her, "sorry, is it late?" 

"No, hon, I'm just checking on you," she smiles. 

You push your lips together and dust off your hands, "how was work?" 

"Good, thanks for asking," she comes down the steps of the deck and sits on the lowest one, "How's it going out here? It looks spectacular?" 

"Mmm, I had to pull the petunias, there was an infestation," you point to the barren patch. "Sorry." 

"Oh, well that's fine," she smiles, "I'm sure Cole can come up with some suggestions for a replacement." 

You nod and purse your lips. The reminder of him makes you cringe inside. You're still embarrassed to think of how lost you were at the market. You must have come off as a weirdo. 

"He's coming for dinner so he'll want to check out the garden," she chimes. 

"Coming for dinner?" You repeat, "tonight?" 

"Of course," she laughs as if it's no big deal. "I want to thank him for keeping you safe last week. Again, I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't mean to lose you like that." 

"It's... it's okay. I'm an adult, I..." you falter. You're an adult but you've never lived like one. 

"I know. You are. You're so very mature but you're also special and you need a little extra care, just like you do for the flowers." 

You hum flatly and look away. She always has such a nice way of saying the ugly things. You know exactly what she means. You're all messed up in your head. 

“Mm, okay, I...” you glance at your clothes. Your jeans are smeared with dirt and your nails are filthy. You blanch and look at your aunt. 

“No worries, you finish up out here,” she smiles, “then you can come in and get cleaned up. He won’t be here for...” she pauses to check her watch, “more than an hour.” 

“Right, er...” you blink. You always feel so lost. You never know what the proper thing to do it but you’re learning. “Could-- can I help with anything?” 

She smiles, “oh, that’s so sweet of you to offer. If you like, you can make a salad. Your uncles going to fire up the barbecue, he doesn’t want to heat up the house too much. And it’ll be nice to eat outside and admire all your hard work.” 

“Um, okay,” you grab the trowel and your forgotten gloves, disposed to allow for more tactile grip, “I’m pretty much done now.” 

You stand and shake off the rest of the dirt. She gets up too, groaning as she rubs her lower back. You cross to trail her up the steps and can’t help a mope. You love your Aunt Bev, she’s done so much for her, but you will never be like her or the rest of them. You’re trying but you just don’t think you’ll ever be normal. 

You put the towel in the orange pot with the rest of the garden tools and drop the gloves on top. You kick your shoes off before you follow Aunt Bev through the sliding door. You leave your dirt caked treads on the mat and go to wash your hands. 

As you try to decide what to put in the salad, you get an idea, the kind that tickles your brain. You finish scrubbing under your nails and dry your hands. You wander out to find Aunt Bev, your nerves flurrying. Maybe you should ask. You already have so much. 

“Hey, hon, what’s up?” She appears as she tugs on the hem of a loose flowered tee, “you look lost.” 

“Oh, erm, I was thinking... about the salad,” you wring your hands and shrug, “it was silly though.” 

“What?” She looks excited, “now you have to tell me.” 

“Well, er, what if... what if I grew some tomatoes? We could put them in salads.” 

“Ah, that’s lovely!” She claps her hands, “you’ll have to ask Cole about that too.” 

You fold your arms and tuck your chin down. Cole... just the mention of him makes you tense. It’s enough that you’re always surrounded by people; Lena, Mason, Uncle Morris. You can’t handle another new face, another person to deal with. Even he did help you, you never asked for it. 

[richarlotte]

Things you swear by?

I make an effort no matter where I go, what I do, or who I find myself meeting.

I dress well, interact with others, engage with my surroundings, and spend minimal time on my phone or distracting myself. I try to make the best out of every situation, and that usually means putting in a lot of work. I don’t balk at introducing myself, I don’t worry about seeming inexperienced, and I focus first on making sure I’m actively engaging with others and putting myself out there. It’s incredibly hard to network or make friends if you isolate yourself or insist on staying in the corner or on your phone at events. I worked as a Bev Cart Girl at a country club last summer, and I made, on average, $1,500 a week in tips in a busy (and very high end) area. I worked 4 days a week, learned how to mix drinks on Tik Tok, and had a great time getting to know people. I was only able to make so much because I kept off my phone, focused on making connections, and really went out of my way to make my male and female patrons feel seen.

I use social media as a tool.

I think Instagram is an amazing tool. I use it to make friends, follow the girls I want to be friends with, and see more of what I like. I’ve made friends on campus by messaging girls about their outfits, I used IG to get my job at the plastic surgery clinic where I worked, and I use IG as a creative medium. I don’t follow too many influencers, I don’t spend time on reels, and I don’t have a perfectly curated feed or profile. It’s important that I use the things I have at my disposal to create connections, and it’s very important to me to befriend my peers and make myself a part of age appropriate social groups so that I succeed alongside my peers. Fostering connections, creating healthy relationships, and maintaining friendships are my main focuses in life. I think it’s extremely important to have a diverse friend group that you’re closed in age to and connected to because that is how you will succeed in life and find ways to keep moving forward.

I create healthy relationships and friendships.

I make an effort to only speak to people who know how to treat others right. I also think before I speak to my friends because there is a time and a place, and I believe in minimizing harm. I’m good at telling harsh truths, but I don’t enjoy having to be the person who always says those things. I don’t play mommy to anyone; I make sure that I’m seen as a person who will give love and tenderness, but I won’t allow others to take advantage of my kindness. Relationships are extremely important to me, so I go out of my way to form them, but the caveat is that I only form them with healthy people. I make sure to keep my friend group large and diverse, I have learned how to apologize when I’m wrong, and I focus on the quality of my friends before even considering the quantity.

Richarlotte x

[jflemings]

what do you think about the whole canada cheating scandal?

look… i’m gonna say something and i know that people aren’t going to like it but hear me out for a sec.

canada either need their points deducted from the match against nz or they need to be disqualified. this has now made people question the team’s ethics and morals and it’s going to continue to follow them through the olympics. although unfortunate and extremely disappointing for these players who have worked their asses off, it is probably the best thing to do.

a lot about this situation grinds my gears but i think one of the biggest things i’m pissed about is the fact that so many fans are saying that canada are the victims whilst not even acknowledging the teams that were spied (?) on. saying “if you’re gonna cheat, why spy on new zealand?” is also iffy to me because if it had been a more popular team like spain, england, australia or america, people’s heads would be on mars. it doesn’t matter that nz haven’t had as much success as other nations, it doesn’t justify cheating.

the trust in the program and it’s professionalism is lost and that isn’t fair to the players who have put so much hard work and dedication into becoming the teams that they are today. the federation has let these players down tremendously time and time again, and i hope that their staff is cleared out.

do i hope that bev really didn’t have any idea? of course, but i find it hard to believe that she didn’t, especially after reports are saying that men’s coach did know about it and even showed footage to the male players in 2021. doing it during the tokyo olympics and during the wwc qualifiers are also pretty damaging accusations against her. holding a position of trust and power like the one she does and then possibly taking advantage of that is appalling. i think it was right that she has stepped away from the tournament.

i also don’t want to hear any ‘i’m sure other teams are doing it!!!’ probably. and i hope that they get found out and punished for it too.

it’s unfair and disappointing and i hope that they players are supported through this.

[genesis-otto]

My headcanons of the losers favorite animals because I can.

Richie : I think that all his childhood, his favorite animal was the wolf. I mean, wolves are badass and cool. And because adhd and autism, I'm sure that he had done many research on them and was an expert. Wolves was his hyperfixation when he was little and when he heard about werewolves for the first time he was so excited because like 'I could be a wolf?!!?' Being a werewolf soon became his new purpose in life and he was waiting for the full moon every month in hope that he would transform into a wolf. He was disappointed each month. But then he get to see the horror movie with werewolves that he craved to see since a long time. He saw it with the losers and was left with a fear of werewolves and the losers had to comfort him for weeks before he got over it. He decided that wolves weren't his fav animal anymore and turned to ferrets because 'Look at them they're just like me I love them!!'

Georgie/Bill : I don't think that Bill had a favorite animal when he was little, but Georgie's was definitely the turtle. And after he passed away, it became Bill's fav too. He just felt like this animal was one of the only things that could connect him to his little brother somehow. And after a moment he realized why Georgie liked them so much. They look like tiny dinosaurs no?

Stanley : Well birds? I don't know shit about birds so I can't go any further and it's horrible because Stan is my fav-

Eddie : I think that Eddie is a dog person and you can't change my mind. It's just a compatible match. They both have a lot of energy, they're playful and I don't know how to explain it but I'm sure that older Eddie would go jog with his future dog all the mornings. Plus dogs are cleaner and they LiStEn. I'm sure that he despises cats for the reason that they're the opposite of dogs. They go in the trash, attack you if they feel like it and don't ever move their asses. I think he's a little scared of them too.

Ben : If you asked that question to Ben, he would respond to you that his favorite animal is the phoenix. But the phoenix isn't a real animal? He DoEsN't CaRe. He likes phoenixes. It's pretty, it has a beautiful meaning and it shines just like Beverly Marsh. Winter fire January embers guys. (Get him out of the library please he read to much romantasy).

Mike : Mike hang out with a lot of animals at the farm. There are sheep, cows, chickens, maybe horses? But none of them are his favorite. Not even a classic like a dog or a cat. Not even a cool tiger or a shark. No. Mike likes fishes, especially jellyfishes. Of all the animals on earth, it's these little guys that stole his heart. It doesn't do much except turning around but it's his fav neitherless. It's just calm, pretty and funny to look at.

Bev : When her dad wasn't at home, Bev would go out as much as she could. But before meeting the losers club she didn't have many friends so she would just go in some alley, take a cigarette and sit there waiting for the time to pass. But then one day, she saw a stray cat and she tried to pat it but the cat run away from her scared. So after that she began to bring food with her for the cat. The cat eventually went to her with other stray cats that wanted to eat and this became a routine where she would always bring them something to eat. They would cuddle with her until she had to get back home and wait for her to come back. They weren't pretty, most of them were sick actually because nobody was taking care of them besides Bev. But they were there. And Beverly loved them with all her heart. They were a little like her. And she would always pinch Eddie when he talks shit about them. So yeah, Bev's fav animal is cats.

[blueywrites]

JULY 1: firsts

rated: t. cw: language, drinking, references to foi word count: 1k

had an idea and just banged this out for @corrodedcoffinfest 🩵

the first time corroded coffin plays together - the current iteration of corroded coffin, anyway - is a goddamn hell of a mess.

they all share part of the blame, too; there's not one scapegoat to point the finger at. fuck-ups all around, eddie thinks, and somehow, the thought isn't bitter.

eddie's the oldest surviving member of corroded coffin. not 'cause the rest of the guys died, though in a way you could argue they did. died to the music; died to the dream when they moved up and along, leaving eddie behind. ronnie dealt the biggest blow with her departure less than a month ago, leaving her replacement - gareth - sweating behind her beat-up kit, trying to live up to that ecker magic.

the kid's the first fuck-up in the roster. he'd done just fine during practice, seemed to be comfortable with the material, even assured them he'd take over as their unofficial music director, the role ronnie always filled. it made sense for the drummer to fill that spot, though jeff offered to do it if the new guy wasn't up for it. that's it's own thing in and of itself, but we'll get to that. anyway, the kid insisted, shaking his fluffy mushroom mop out of his eyes and looking straight at eddie as he promised he had it, he could do it, no problem. didn't wanna let eddie down, maybe. had something to prove.

but when he walked out onto bev's rickety stage at the hideout, that bright-as-fuck beam from the one working spotlight hit him right in the face. the poor kid didn't have a chance after that. it was up to him to count them in, and all it took was three strikes for him to fumble his sticks, drop one with a discordant clatter to the plywood floor.

that was it. performance anxiety ate gareth up for the rest of the night, fucked him left and right - tempo, timing, consistency, it all went out the window.

so, yeah, drums are the backbone of a band, and gareth fucking up definitely struck a blow, but if the rest of the guys had been on, they probably would've been fine. thing is, though, that their bassist - eddie doesn't even wanna think his name, he's so fuckin' pissed at the bastard - just up and quit on them a day before the gig. for no reason, too; not like the others who'd been off to college, on to bigger and better shit. no, this guy just... wasn't feeling it anymore? eddie barely listened as he rattled off some vague explanation, pressing the plastic handset against his temple 'til it hurt so he wouldn't smash it back into the receiver and break wayne's kitchen phone. luckily, eddie thought of barry - a big dude from school he'd seen jamming in a friend of a friend's garage once - and after calling around to get his number, turns out barry was free and willing to help out.

and barry was a solid bassist, for sure. but his taste was less thrash metal, more hair metal, so he didn't have a whole lot of experience with corroded coffin's usual set list. and with only a day and a half max to prepare, it would take a certified savant to learn the parts well enough to compensate for the drums when gareth choked.

and remember how i said we'd come back to jeff? ah, jeff. the only member other than eddie who's been around the block with this band. nothing wrong with his playing whatsoever; jeff's always got his part locked down. but, see, his part is rhythm guitar, which is as much of a secondary instrument as you can get in metal where there aren't many instruments involved in the first place. and that night, corroded coffin didn't need a great rhythm guitarist; what they needed was a leader, a unifier. someone to light a fire under their asses and in their souls, someone to help gareth dig down deep and find his balls, someone to push barry to channel his inner steve harris and murder it on bass.

but jeff. oh, sweet jeff. jeff isn't that guy. he's the earnest guy, the kind guy, the shy guy who, when you get paired up with him for bio lab, offers to cut open the fetal pig for you even though he's queasy. but he isn't the fire starter. that's eddie, and it should've been eddie that night taking them all by the scruff of their necks and pressing their foreheads together with a hoarse shout that they're all "fuckin' metal."

except eddie was plagued by a wicked hangover that felt like satan was stomping on his gut and tea-bagging him at the same time. and should he have pulled an all-nighter the day before, drinking himself into a stupor and then passing out sprawled on the moldering couch outside the trailer, just so he could wake up damp and shivery and sick to his fucking stomach when it started raining less than four hours before they were set to take the stage?

well, no, he probably shouldn't have. but in his defense, his best friend didn't hug him when she left 'cause he fucked up their friendship, the girl he was into now hates him, and his son of a bitch father burned his house down, along with almost all his worldly possessions. so maybe we can cut eddie a little slack.

when all was said and done, corroded coffin limped through that set like a hound dog baying to be put down. was it the worst gig eddie's ever played? well, yeah, maybe it was, honestly.

but they can only go up from here, right?

and up they go. up, and up, and up - eddie, gareth, barry, and jeff. corroded coffin, those beautiful boys 🩵

[gvtted-ratz]

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You’re Welcome Anytime

Will Graham x M!Reader

Last Edited: March 24, 2021 9:30 PM

TW: anxiety

Requested: no

Word Count: 1,060

AO3 LINK -> HERE

You have been under stress from Jack for a week now. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing. It was just too much. He was always rushing you to finish up your notes on cases which led to mistakes. This, in turn, led to you being yelled at by him all the time. It not only embarrassed you, but it also made you feel both dumb and inferior to everyone else around you. Jack had told you that if you were to make any more mistakes, I’d be taken off the case you are on now. That scared you more than anything. Your job is to review the cases, profile the killer, and take notes on it all. The moment Jack yelled that at you, you could feel everything crashing down around you.

You hid away in the lab with Bev. Brian and Jimmy were out getting everyone lunch. Bev had lent her lab coat to you since you were pretty cold. Bev seemed fine with the entire thing since she was the one to offer you her coat. The coat was warm thanks to Bev’s body heat and warmed you right up. You and Bev had been talking about the workload you’ve been getting and the stress you’ve been facing. You weren’t ready for her to suddenly bring up Will Graham though.

“So, you got the hots for the unstable man… I see how it is,” Bev says, her lips curled up in a smirk.

“I… No! You be quiet!” You tell her, your face flushing at the sudden change in subject. Bev’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“You know I can’t do that. Now that I know about you having the hots for him and all,” Her smirk doesn’t disappear, it seems to grow bigger. “I’m just surprised the man hasn’t noticed.”

“You’re surprised? I’m surprised! He knows what people think and, yeah it is kinda scary, but it’s also really cool. Maybe he does know but doesn’t feel the same way,” Your tone goes from joyful to slightly sorrowful at the thought of rejection. Before you and Bev can say anymore, Will walks in, holding a file in his hands. “Oh, is that for me?” You ask, reaching your hand out to take the file, already knowing it’s for you. Will hands you the file, observing you the entire time.

“You seem to be nervous, very nervous,” He says, staring at you. You give him a shaky smile, feeling your nerves slowly getting the better of you.

“Yeah, well, I’ve just been stressed lately. I mean, have you heard Jack yelling at me? I’m sure everyone has by now,” You end your sentence with a nervous, shaky laugh.

“Yeah. I heard it. Sorry you had to go through that… I’ve been yelled at by him so many times that I’ve not fazed anymore,” Will tells you, giving you a small smile, trying to comfort you. You try your best to keep your face from flushing at the simple smile. You look towards Bev quickly, seeing her mouth the words ‘Yeah, you got the hots for him’. You give her a small glare before looking down at the file in your hands.

“I guess it’s time to get to work. Bev, be a dear get me a chair, Darling,” You say dramatically, trying to get rid of the sick feeling in your stomach. You hear Bev let out a chuckle as she goes to get you a chair. Faintly, you hear Will let out a small snort of amusement. You feel that nervousness slowly coming back. Who knew that a simple sound from Will would get to you like that? Bev pushes the desk chair towards you, its wheels rolling silently. You grab it and place it by the desk and sit down. You open up the case file and start to analyze the pictures.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ve done all I came to do,” He says as he starts to walk out. He stops suddenly and looks towards you. You don’t notice with your face close to one of the crime scene photos, your eyes squinting slightly as you looked at all the details. “[Redacted], you can come to my house if you need to talk about the cases or just want to chat, You’re Welcome Anytime .” He leaves after saying those words, leaving you no time to process them before he’s gone.

“Seems like Mr. Will Graham may have to hots for you too. Please tell me you’ll go to his house. Two nervous people like you and Will go great for one another, I swear,” Bev says, leaning over you.

“I might, but you never know. Maybe I’ll disappear off the face of the Earth for a while. Being alone with Will would be a nightmare,” You say, sighing. You hear her chuckle as she pats your shoulder.

“Yeah. You two would just sit there awkwardly in silence, not knowing how to start a conversation. Maybe you two would make eye contact and then look away, all blushing like they do in books and movies,” She teases, her tone light.

“We won’t do what the movies and books do. That’s too cliche. Think a little bit higher of us, will ya’?” You laugh, sounds both happy and amused by her words.

“Don’t come crying to me when you do exactly what they do in those books.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, how sweet.” You hit her shoulder lightly, your nervousness now gone thanks to her teasing.

“Look, all I’m saying is, you two would be cute. Two cute dudes dating each other and having each other’s backs. Sounds like a dream right there. And my friends would be boyfriends! I get to be the one who sets up your dates because you both would suck at it. I can see it now!” Bev exclaims, shaking the chair gently in excitement.

“Alright, calm down. Don’t let your imagination get the best of you. You don’t even know if it’ll happen,” You tell her, your smile wide on your face.

“Oh shush! I do to know. It’s destined to happen and you know it. For now, let’s get this case looked at. Hate to have Jack yell at you again,” She says, calming down enough to finally work with.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s get this case started.”

[antisociallilbrat]

Poly Losers Publicity

This is an idea, a back bone of a fic that I'm never going to write so I'm putting it here. If you want to write it, go ahead. I just need to get these brain worms out of my head. This is from my Poly Losers Au.

So like Richie, Bev, and Bill are all relatively famous? Richie is a famous comedian (who I headcannon him being on SNL at one point in his career) and then you have Bev who is a famous fashion designer? Like her work rivals Gucci and other major fashion brands. Then you have Bill who is like the horror novelist, who always has his books being adapted into movies.

So anyways the public is nosy and wants to know who's banging who. Richie, Bill, and Bev, along with the other Losers have decided to keep their relationship a secret. Yeah being gay/bi is okay but they don't want to have to explain why they're in a relationship of seven people. Bev, Richie, and Bill handle this in many different ways. Bev just deflects any relationship questions in interviews and Richie jokes that he's a whore and no one will date him. (Stan and Eddie give him so much shit over that bit) and Bill,,,poor bb flounders.

Bill likes to dedicate his books to his lovers. Each book he writes has a dedication that says something like: "To my lover who watches the birds", or "To my lover that is sun on earth", and naturally people ask who this lover is in interviews. And Bill just doesn't know how to lie so the general public just thinks that Bill's lover is a multifaceted person who loves to grow plants, bird watches, work on cars, and also writes poetry.

This all works for a while until Bill is caught in public holding hands with Ben. Magazines blow up like :"Is this the lover of many talents?? World Renowned architect Ben Hanscom??" so now they just let the public think Bill is dating just Ben. Also Bill and Richie got an argument over it that went like:

Richie: "This is so not fair, why do you get Ben?"

Bill: "It's not like I was trying to get caught!"

Richie: "Well if you get Ben then I get Mike!"

Bill: "Fine."

Richie: "Fine!"

Bill: "Fine!"

On Richie's next stand up he tells everyone he's dating this cute librarian named Mike and like with Bill, the press eats that up.

But fans are crazy right? Like they had a working theory that Richie was actually dating this high end accountant (Stanley) bc Richie had been spotted with him a couple times at fancy parties. (Stanley is a slut for fancy parties and Richie only goes to the ones he's invited to bc he knows Stan will enjoy it) But some other fans had a theory that Richie was dating high end fashion designer Beverly Marsh. Because Richie only ever wears her clothes on stage or in interviews. Plus they've been spotted being flirty before at award shows. So fans are a little confused when Richie announces he's dating a humble librarian.

But remember fans are crazy so it doesn't take long for them to figure out that Bill Denbrough also only ever wears suits out of the Beverly Marsh brand. Which is strange bc Bill and Richie have very much a bickering banter in the spotlight. So they're all left wondering, what does this all mean?

Because yes Bev avoids relationship questions but she always has the same guy with her as her 'date' at events. A man not much taller than her and he's been seen reassuring her at her runway shows. Calming down her anxiety. (Eddie is 100% Bev's unofficial manager and I like to think that Bev's fashion is her and Eddie's thing. He's the one who goes to all her shows.)

So at this point fans are going crazy. They have Bill who is dating the famous architect but has written too many dedications for it just be about Ben. Also some fans 'ship' Bill and Richie bc of how they play fight through the press.

Then there's Richie who is dating the "Librarian" Mike Hanlon, but also Richie has been spotted with at like Galas with one of the best accountants in the business, Stanley Uris and he constantly flirts with Bev in the public eye.

But Richie and Bill both exclusively wear Beverly Marsh. And Bev who avoids relationship questions but is seen with the same man at shows, who the fans had pieced together is Eddie Kaspbrack. Someone who owns a predominant limousine company in New York.

And this all falls apart after one particular award show, Bill's book turned Movie won an oscar, and the Losers were out celebrating at what they thought was a private party....only to wake up the next morning and see all hell break loose. There are photos of Richie making out with Bill and Ben. There's a couple photos of Bev scandalously dancing with Richie's librarian boyfriend, Mike. Then to top it off Eddie and Stan are spotted sneaking away from said party. Two people with romantic links to Bev and Richie.

The internet blows up.

Richie tweets out the next day: "So I see you've guys have met my lovers. Yes, plural. Told you I was a whore."

I honestly feel like this has been down before, and if it has please let me know. I just can't get this particular version out of my head.

[itreference]

what do you think about stanley and beverly's relationship? how do they treat each other, what did they furst thought of each other, are they close or nah, what's their dynamic, do they have their inside jokes,,,,,,,,,, anything PLEASE

I've never heard of Stanley and Beverly being a duo but I love it, I feel like they'd be best friends but don't really hang out in public. She'll, when her father's gone, she'll invite him over so they can bitch about people (they just seem like a very chaotic duo to me) and I have many thoughts on why ⬇️

• At one point she tried getting him into smoking but he took one hit and started having a coughing attack, she NEVER let that down.

• Stan is straight (I like stozier and some stenbrough but just go along with it) but he'll boy talk with bev just to talk shit about every boy she finds attractive

• Beverly always volunteers to go bird watching with Stan but she gets bored pretty fast, but she tries to stay within the topic of birds, so she ask questions about birds and yes Stanley loves answering them but he gets so annoyed when she scares off the birds (+ once she actually frightened one and instead of flying off it shit on his head)

If you mean in a relationship way instead of them being friends I have stuff in that area too! (Mostly just sweet stuff because I don't post ns/fw)

• Honestly they'd be that one dynamic that's like "excuse me, he asked for NO pickles" (I thought I had more but it's not in my notes..)

[acesofspadess]

Winner of Hearts

a/n: this late upload was not planned I'm so sorryyyy, but updates will be like everyday again so yay. and get your tissues ready.

 Next week quickly turned into 2 months. One Direction was in the Finals. Over the past few months the band had become a family., with you all deciding to stay in your tiny room over splitting up. You couldn’t imagine life without all 5 boys in it. Of course the nicknames stuck and you really enjoyed each of the boys having their own nickname for you - though you think they liked it more than you.

“Hey bug, can I draw you?”

“Bow, why are you still in bed?”

“Only Petal can have my food.”

“Bear? Can you play with my hair?”

“Oi! Bunny’s cheating! How does she always win?”

 Bentley and Beverly came to visit with your Nan and Pap a few times. You were so proud of how far Bev had come in her schooling and was soon gonna be an apprentice for some designers. Bentley had changed career paths and decided being a model was truly what he wanted to do. He had the looks, and the height, he just needed the connections. He had one job for a local clothing shoppe that you made sure Bev sent you pictures of.

The bakery was even better. Nan and Pap had got so many people to come in (they know it was because of you) that they had to hire people to help around. They still did most if not all the baking but they definitely had help and you were thankful. They were only in their late 40s, (47) after having your mom when they were 16, and then your mom having you when she was 16. They were around the same age as the other mothers in the band, but to you it felt like they had lived two lives. 

Being able to go out and see everyones old lives was a special moment for all of you. You were glad something was arranged for Niall after the weather prevented from you all heading to Ireland. Louis' old school definitely was the biggest surprise. He had you stay by his side the whole time claiming ‘ I need my best friend by my side’. And you were more than happy to be there with him and the rest of the boys.

Seeing where Harry grew up was so special. Over the course of the past two months you had definitely gained feelings for him and Niall and it seemed to you that they were in the same boat, but you knew it wouldn't go anywhere for a long time. Harry made sure you and Niall were holding onto him as the mass of people around his front drive were mad. You and Niall found a picture of baby Harry and asked the fan if you could steal it, to which they screamed and showed the paper into your hands. You knew how much Harry missed his mum and Robyn and it was so special watching him reunite with them.

Next was your home town of Hazel Grove. You knew you wanted your first stop to be the bakery. Swarms of people - more than the other boys- were waiting outside of the bakery and as you and the boys stepped out the cheers could have made you go deaf. They were chanting your name and had signs of all different things, even baby pictures that you knew all the boys would try to sneak pictures of. 

Seeing Beverly, Bentely, Nan, and Pap all together again was too much for you to handle. You knew that after this that there would be a ton more people waiting to get to this bakery. “A free pastry on me!” you yelled standing on a chair by the front doors to everyone who was standing around. “But only if you promise to come back!” They all screamed and laughed and the boys helped pass out pastries to everyone in line. 

You finally made it to your cottage a little while away from the bakery and the boys marvelled at how perfect the cottage reminded them of you. The Williams parents had moved to Australia and had lost connection with the three of you, but Beverly and Bentely were unbothered as they knew your grandparents treated them like their own. After Beverly and Bentely helped show all of your baby pictures to the boys -especially Niall and Harry- you went and stayed in your room for the night before you were off to Bradford. 

“Oh my god.” Zayn muttered next to you holding onto your hand tightly. You giggled at his reaction to all the people. Zayn’s outcome was so special knowing he was really a quiet kid and that seeing all these people where he used to go for fun was such a shock for him. 

Last but not least, Wolverhampton. We had a gig there and Simon joined you guys for the last leg. The performance felt so real and it made you all really want to win this. 

The next big thing after that was your birthday and the boys made sure to cause havoc on your birthday, starting by waking you up super early. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUTY!” they all screamed pulling back the privacy protector. You knew they were going to pull something so you decided to get them back. “Except today isn't my birthday.” Your voice was scratchy and you saw all but two faces drop. “No today 9 December you were born, Bear.” Harry now whispering informed you. “Yeah Petal, today's your birthday. You’ve got a picture of you and Beverly with balloons and cake that say ‘9 Dec’.” 

You couldn't help but smile and open your eyes to see all them smiling at you with party hats. “Thank you lads, but it's still dark outside.” you whispered with a shaky laugh at the end. They joined you laughing quietly. “I will ask you where you managed to find those party hats later. But right now i'm going back to sleep.” they all laughed and Liam, Zayn, and Louis kissed your head before getting back in their own beds. “Wait Petal.” Niall and Harry were now sitting at the edge of your bed. “We want you to open your gift now.” Harry handed you the small -decently- wrapped gift. You opened it sluggishly and smiled widely when you saw what it was.

“We remembered you saying you needed a new one. So we put our money together and got you one. Do you like it, Bear?” You looked at it in its full glory. A new bonnet for your hair… with Niall and Harry’s faces on it. “Where did you manage to get this?” you chuckled while switching it with the one you had on. “We’ll tell you later. Go back to sleep Petal.” They were getting ready to get up but you stopped them. “No, stay with me.” You slid into the middle of your small bed and patted either side of you. They each chose a side and you snuggled into them both while Harry pulled your blanket over you all. 

A few hours later Liam and Louis woke Zayn up, and when they went to wake you up (you had to wake up Niall and Harry. They only ever woke up if it was you) they saw you with both boys heads snuggled into your neck and chest. “I'm calling it now. Those three are getting married.” Zayn pointed out and the L’s agreed. “Let them sleep a little longer.” Louis spoke softer than he would ever admit looking at the tiniest hint of smile on his best friend's face as her boys snuggled further into her. “Bunny, do we have a lot to catch up on.” he spoke to himself getting back in this bunk on top of you.

Then it was the Finals. The first performance was so exhilarating. Seeing the winter wonderland come together and hear all the harmonies under the solos. It was perfect. The second performance was even more magical, being able to do a duet with Robby Williams was even better. You all sounded so good and looked even better in your best dressed.

But, besides everything joyful outside of X-Factor, inside was getting more serious. 

It was the morning of 12  December and you were all sitting between you and louis bunk, and Harry and Nialls. “We’ve come so far… what happens to us if we don’t win?”

The topic had never been discussed yet and by the way everyone's face turned, you knew it was one that needed to be held. 

“I guess because we made it so far I didnt think about what happens after.” Liam offered up as everyone was sitting in silence. “So what do we do if we don't win?”

“We stay together.” Harry spoke up with no hesitation. You looked up at him to see the desperation in his eyes and softly pulled his head into your shoulder, you knew he needed comfort in this situation. “We stay together.” you confirmed and you felt Niall's head nod against your lap while looking at Liam and Louis also nodding their heads. 

“Then we have a final performance to get ready for.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We are so so happy to be in the final. It’s unreal. We can't believe we're here.” You all sat around Liam as he spoke.  “It's kinda crazy to believe we all came in as soloists. So much time has passed.” You added on. 

“I think if we won our lives would change forever and we’re ready for our lives to change.”

You and Liam had the first Solos

I thought I saw a girl brought to life

She was warm, she came around like he was dignified

She showed me what it was to cry

Well you couldn't be that man that I adored

You don't seem to know, or seem to care what your heart is for

I don't know him anymore

Then you all sang together for the last chorus

I'm all out of faith

This is how I feel

I'm cold and I am shamed

Lying naked on the floor

Illusion never changed

Into something real

I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn

You're a little late

I'm already torn

Torn

You walked down the stairs and when you all got down you couldn't help but hug each other like it was the last time. As the judges talked the audience cheered the band's name and you couldn’t help but smile. “Only formed a few months ago, you know, pretty much put together for this show, and knowing now you're all best mates. How does it feel to be here on Finals night, Louis.”

You looked at your best friend from across the group as he answered. “You know it's an absolute honour to be here and that song that we did, it was the first song we ever did together. It was- it was just great. Perfect.”

Dermot had watched the live stream from Louis' hometown of Doncaster and everyone was screaming to vote for One Direction. 

````````

“Please lets welcome back the finalists and the judges.” You walked out when Dermot called you guys and the anxiety in your chest made you want to run back to the dressing rooms. You stood next to Niall and Zayn and could feel them both fidgeting while Dermot talked. “I will now tell you the two acts with the most votes and will compete head to head for the X-factor title. The act who has received the fewest votes, finishing third, will be leaving the competition tonight. Good luck to everyone.”

You could feel everyone holding their breath around you. “The first act going through to the next stage of the final is…”

You were happy that Matt got through, but that meant you were only one spot away from staying or going. 

“So, One direction and Rebbeca. One of you has made it into the top two. And one of you has received the fewest votes from the public and is out of the competition.” You held your face in your hands anxiously and Louis reached over to comfort you the best he could. 

“The second act who will be in the final is… Rebbeca.”

You didn’t know what to do. You all just stood there before the cheers around told you that Rebbeca had won, and she was a friend. You all walked over to her to congratulate her before Dermot was calling you back. “We're gonna talk to you in a second but first let's watch your time on the X-factor.”

You could barely watch through the tears. The blurry images of all you coming in as soloist to when you were put into the band flashed first. You guys getting through the judges round and your first Live performance, followed by all of your excursions and meeting Emma Watson and your final performances. Louis and Zayn hugged you a little harder when they saw you wipe your tears. 

“I can tell by all of your faces you're absolutely gutted, but how has this experience been for you?” Since Louis was closest he answered first. “It's been absolutely incredible. For me the highlight was when we first sang together at the Judge’s House. It was incredible and unbelievable and you know we’ve done our best, we worked hard." Everyone cheered at Louis' answer and Dermot moved onto you.

“Autumn, the only girl in a boy band.” that gave you a laugh and Zayn shook you softly as a tease. “What's gonna happen to One Direction now?”

You looked at all the boys before answering.

“We’re definitely gonna stay together, and this isn’t the last of One Direction.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you have any ideas for what you want to write in future my inbox is open!!!! i would love to hear what you guys want to see happen in the trios future

tags:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive  

[it-one-line-at-a-time]

ALSO hi sorry you're the only one that knows what im talking about when i rant about It

i think its really a thing that bevs fear is different. its not wearwolves or mummys its blood

and while that doesn't feel a lot different shes a girl right at the age of having a period for the first time

HAVING YOUR FIRST PERIOD IS FULCONG SCARY

coufh cpugh bev and carrie are literally both stephen king characters whos main arc is being scared of having a period?? he does this intentionally?? cough

they nod to this in the movie when the boys go into the store to get stuff to help ben and shes buying tampons and unsure of what to do. she hides the tampons to cause shes embarrassed

AND HER DAD i could go on for hourssssssss her dad literally says "are you not my little girl anymore?" LIKE whatttttttttt the fuck. and no one but her and the boys can see the blood. while yeah this is because the adults dont see it but do we know WHY the adults dont see it? ITS BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE STORY IS LITERALLY ABOUT KIDS WHO ARE AFRAID. AFRAID OF PEOPLE BRUSHING THEIR FEARS ASIDE AND AFRAID OF BECOMING SOMEONE WHO DOES THAT.

HER FEAR IS FUCKING GROWING UP AND THE MAIN VILLAIN AGAINST HER IS A CLOWN THAT ONLY KILLS PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT GROWN UP AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT

i love bev she needs a hug and a warm blanket and raspberry leaf tea and a good movie and to be loved

Don't you dare be sorry! I'm having the time of my life answering these things, I swear to God.

I think Bev's fear of blood has sooo many layers. It's more explicitly stated in the book, just because it's easier in terms of description of internal monologues, but the film does definitely, as you say, give a few nods. There's obviously the scene in the shop where she is struggling to pick out tampons (honestly same, girl, I hate sanitary shopping more than I can say), which shows how new to this she is, and then she hides it behind her back from the boys, because she's scared and embarrassed to let it be known that she's growing up.

Of course she's also scared of her dad, and fucking fair enough?? The man is awful. During the scene in the book after she's met and dealt with Mrs. Kersh and Pennywise approaches her in the guise of her father and says some shit that genuinely made me nearly cry both times I read it, it's confirmed that she was scared shitless of her father, and what he might do to her. Touched upon in the movie when she first stands up to him - in a scene that had me in a stressed-out, terrified chokehold when I watched it for the first time - this fear is definitely only enhanced when she starts her period, which is why she froze in fear when he first came across the tampons. Because in her eyes, she's now being forced to grow up at the speed of light, and her dad hits her with the "Tell me you're still my little girl", so she's forced between wanting to grow up and out of his reach, and wanting to stay a kid so she doesn't have to face the hellhole of adulthood.

Long story short, she should NOT EVER have been put through that shit, nor should anyone. Like, even the idea of being afraid of growing up whilst simultaneously having to in order to escape your predatory-ass father is so fucking awful and I'd never even thought about it too hard before this, so I appreciate this ask for making me consider how fucking awful it must've been for her.

Anyway Bev is my gorgeous girl who I would rather die for than have her suffer yay <3

[sunshinereddie]

ok so i just saw this art from @gloomy-prince and it made me think of a little hc!! all credit to then, so go show their art some love!!!

after the incident with bowers, as anon said, beverly immediately gets to work on trying to patch him up (bev pierced her own ears several times as a teenager, she’s sure this can’t be that much different….) but as she does so eddie won’t stop nagging her about sterilizing the needle, getting him out of this dirty bathroom and into a clean space, ranting to her about the possibility of infection and tetanus.

but then, when richie returns to the hotel and finds out what happened, he starts to panic. he hasn’t even been back in derry for 24 hours, and already so many bad things have happened that have made him want to start running. and now, on top of all of that, eddie got hurt, and richie wasn’t even there for him. hell, richie only just remembered a few hours earlier that he’s still in love with eddie after all these years, and now seeing eddie with a bleeding face, it’s all too much.

richie begins bombarding eddie, asking if he’s okay, asking what happened, trying to look at the injury to make sure his friends aren’t lying to him when they say eddie’s okay, and trying his very best not to cry because the sight of eddie in pain just breaks his heart. but then, eddie says, “i know you’re worried, rich, but it’s okay- i got beverly to sterilize the needle before she stitched me up, and bill’s bringing some antibacterial cream on his way back. these bandages are kind of old, but at least we were able to cover it up, that way it can stay clean even in this dirty place. plus, i’m all up to date on my tetanus shot, so i’ll be okay. i should pick up some antibiotics though, just in case…”

and all richie can do is… smile. because of course that’s what eddie is worried about. while richie is panicking about the fact that eddie just barely survived attempted murder and is worrying about how eddie is hurt, of course all eddie is focusing on is cleaning the needle to stitch him up and whether or not he’ll get tetanus. it’s all just so… eddie. and of course, despite everything that happened to him, eddie is the one trying to make richie feel better. richie couldn’t remember a lot from his childhood, but he did remember… that eddie was always there for him when he needed it.

richie throws an arm around eddie’s shoulders, giving him a comforting pat on the arm. “sure, eds, we’ll get you all of that,” he said, interrupting eddie’s rant about whether he should buy antibiotic pills or ointment. “but what i wanna know, is how’d bev stitch you up like that without any anaesthesia? i still remember the way you squealed when i snapped your arm back into place when we were kids.”

eddie huffed, his cheek not covered by a bandage flushing pink. “yeah, because i was twelve and that was a broken bone. besides, this didn’t even hurt that much.”

at that, ben stifled a laugh. “oh yeah?” he said. “my left hand begs to differ. i think you were holding on so tight you cut off circulation.”

eddie tossed a roll of bandages at ben to shut him up, but he was laughing along with the rest of them. richie slowly removed his arm from around eddie, but he didn’t take his eyes away from him. eddie was laughing, but richie could tell that the action was hurting his cheek.

they had a terrifying day ahead of them. all the night before, richie had only been able to think of the worst-case scenario, convincing himself that that was how this whole thing was going to end. but now, as he looked at eddie’s bandaged cheek and the hopeful smile on his face, richie made a promise to himself. he promised himself that he wouldn’t let anything else hurt eddie while they were here. they were going kill IT, and finally end this nightmare once and for all.

richie just hoped they would be able to pull it off.

[boxwinebaddie]

to all the guardian angels watching over me --

for you, my treasures, i am working on a gift,

something to lift our spirits while i lift this curse.

( god, i wish i had taken PE a bit more seriously. )

now, it's not much...

but because i've been experiencing alot of stress/panic attacks lately, if you are looking for a little hurt comfort, but mostly comfort, i am writing up a little think piece about Ravesey!Style X Anxiety, what situations/subject matters might be stressors, nervous tics/tells,

and, naturally...

...what the other boy might do to comfort them. <3

again, it's not much ( i wish it could be more, but alas, i have been trying to write for months and my hands hurt almost as much as my heart does ), but i wanted to try and ease back into writing things again, i am inspired endlessly by your requests/questions, would like nothing more in the world than to answer them and hopefully heal the world with a little hate...from ravesey style.

( so you better smile, pendejos. )

but first, a sappy, crappy thanks from ur poorly functioning uncle.

many of you have asked what my days are like ( i'm sorry i got a little graphic and morose down here, but on the bright side, i'm only five ft, so it's far less stuffy than six feet under, right? khlks. what can i say! even as a gallows girl, i'm shallow. <3 call that preposthumo(ro)us. )

buuut anyways, a lot asked how to make my dog days better but tbh? i'm a cat person ( i miss lily :/ ), so i don't need compliments.

your company is more than enough.

( tho, i do 'preciate the gifts you're leaving on uncle death's doorstep )

...so, um...

*rubs neck nervously and accidentally strains it*

Thank You. :'}

on terribly hard days, ( any sans you ) when i wake up with the skin on my face red and broken open after another round of failed antibiotics from another lazy er diagnosis that i don't have/but must because my voice shakes when i talk and i pick my skin when i'm scared, my body heavy, puffy and yet far too light from exertion, a disgusting jaundice yellow against the bruise blue tile of my bathroom floor, trying not to gag as the nauseating, patronizing voices of ugly male doctors echo in my ears with this horrible thing brewing in my body like poison...

..i open your messages, i read your kind words, tell all the loud men in lab coats to shut up, i put the dnr down, and decide...to save myself.

i sit up slowly so i don't get whiplash or come crashing down to earth, ( yk, i've heard it hurts to fall from heaven, but then, hells not far off. )

i think about how if i don't do this, no one will relentlessly hit on my rant park girls and ruin their day, i think of what little silly drink i will weakly brandish in my hideous, chewed up hands for my bev check that day, it helps if i imagine us all together at a picnic table one day, laughing, smiling, drinking our drinks, just dillydalling the day away,

a perfect, beautiful day.

talking about our perfect, beautiful boys.

just me and my perfect, beautiful girls.

but right now...

it's just Fucking. Me. again.

and this biohazardous BITCH who won't pay rent.

and i finally make it up for air, i savor it, then hold my breath so i don't scream at god or waste my very important air on another stupid arrogant man who won't listen and doesn't care, gritting my teeth so hard, all sound and movement softens ( a very sick kind of kindness ), stupidly clinging to my sweat-laden shirt, all cotton and rotten hope,

trying very hard to be 'good', to be a positive role model even outside of the classroom full of small children i loved very much but was too sick to send off to off to the kindergarten i prepped them for...these weird, funny, odd, special, tiny little people i raised in place of their rich, idle parents; tied their shoes, sang them songs, taught them to spell their names...and will probably never, ever see again.

-- but who would want me to practice what i teach and be brave and not cry as i try to remember which parts of the lymphatic system will release pressure in each sagging limb, painstakingly putting my broken doll parts back together by myself in that cursed fucking bathroom which knows me better than any ex i've ever had...

...and because of your strength, my loves,

i remember everyday why even though i am some woman's annoying, inept, yappy purse dog pomerainian that accidentally got dumped on the side of the busy highway, a dumb, useless, fancy, fluffy, fussy thing, doomed from the start, dead on arrival, taken and afraid, shaking in my siren clog hello kitty crocks, scared shitless, with no survival skills, no self-preservation, no strength, that somewhere, way past this horror movie scene, far beyond night that never ends...

crimson dawn B R E A K S.

and it looks a lot...

Like Your Smile. :)

HYH.

-uncle nina xx

[steviebunny]

Pretty Astute Observations

Ouef

20:40

“Graham, how would you feel about a partner?” Jack asks stepping in beside Will.

“I’m sorry- what?”

"What if I could pull in a profiler from the BAU to help keep you on track, Dr. Lecter said I’ve been pushing you too hard, and Strauss knows the Behavioral Science Unit is understaffed”

“I don’t need a babysitter Jack.”

“She wouldn't be a babysitter, Will. She’s extremely knowledgeable in her field and has experience similar to your…particular situation. ”

“Another psychiatrist, Jack? Hannibal, too busy for your liking?”

The bell for the following floor rings, and Crawford moves off the platform just before the doors close he says “Not a psychiatrist actually, a marine.” The elevator doors close and Will Graham is left in stunned silence, having just missed his floor and apparently been assigned a new partner. 

—-

09:00

“Most of the time in sexual assaults, the bite mark has a livid spot at the center, a “suck bruise”. In some cases it does not. For some killers biting may be a fighting pattern, as much as a sexual behavior.” 

Jack slams the class door, open and shouts at the room full of students.

“Ok, class dismissed. Everyone out! What did I just say?! Let’s go!”

“You’re making it difficult to provide an education, Jack.”

Despite the previous evening's barrage by his pseudo-employer will still managed, to put together a lesson plan for the day. Little did he know it would not be necessary.

“ We found a match to a set of prints we pulled from the Turner home. They belong to a thirteen-year-old boy from Reston, Virginia. His name is Connor Frist.”

“Another kid?” Will wondered aloud.

“Another missing kid. Vanished ten months ago, case was never solved.”

“How many kids in the Frist family?”

“Three.”  Will’s head snaps to the door of his classroom, he hadn’t noticed the red-headed woman approach. She had a delicate and sturdy build 5’5, maybe 5’6, and dark jeans and a tank top exposing her muscled biceps as well as the tattoo ‘semper- fi’ wrapping around her left arm just above the elbow. “just like the Turner family.”

“Agent, Lena Gibbs, I’d like to introduce you to Will Graham.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Will.” The man offered a nod in return. “Jack eluded to the fact you’ve had experience with empaths.”

“Quite the opposite actually, I spent some time in London with a man who self-identified as a high-functioning sociopath but it's a very similar skill set the two of you possess.”

“Well…we’ll see about that. I’ll meet you at the car.” Will bristles and collects his coat, just barely brushing shoulders with the woman as he makes his way out.

“He’s a tough nut to crack, but he’ll warm up to you.”

“I’m not worried, Crawford. It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

__

“Mr. Frist and the children killed first, saving Mrs. Frist for last. Same as the Turners.”

“Not exactly the same. Something went wrong.”

“Not a single present under the tree for Mrs. Frist…Are we all not going to acknowledge the Navy Brat in the room?”

“Always a pleasure Bev, the unsub took her presents, he took her motherhood.”

“Shooting her once wasn’t enough. The first bullet, travels beneath her scalp…to its final resting place, base of her neck.”

“Do we know the type of bullet? Trace the bullet, trace the possible gun, trace the killer.”

“No, the shell exploded on impact, what we could piece together wasn’t identifiable,” Price told her passing over a small glass jar with bullet pieces rattling inside.

“Do you mind?” She asked. No one in the room answered so she pulled out her phone and called an often-dialed number.

“Fortress of solitude at your service.”

“Hey, Babygirl can I ask a favor?”

“Anything for my favorite agent”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that. If I send over some photos of an exploded shell do you think you can use the naval ballistics database to piece it together”?

“I’m insulted you even have to ask.”

“You're the best, Garcia”

“I know.”

Turning back to the stunned room full of BSU agents and in Will’s case, an outsourced professor. “I give it thirty, minutes before we know the bullet type. Not that I don’t have faith in you guys but the Marine Corps has the largest database of fragmented shells and an algorithm made by a forensic analyst at NCIS to predict their shatter pattern, that most of the FBI just doesn't have access to.”

“And how do you have access?!” 

“My father,” she answered Zeller before moving back between Jack and WIll. “So who is our additional corpse in the fireplace”?

Will cleared his throat and said “I’d say Connor Frist. He’d been prepped to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer”

“Connor couldn’t put his panic back in the bottle. So he got shot too.

"Whoever shot him…disowned him.”

—

“Garcia got a hit on the ballistics match.”

“C.J. Lincoln disappeared six months before his mother’s murder. He hasn’t been seen since.”

“ He has none of the characteristics of a sadist or a sociopath.”

“Right, no shoplifting, no malicious destruction of property. No assault, no battery. He was kind to animals, for God’s sake.”

“Firearm says we are looking at Peter Pan to our lost boys.”

“ But it takes a sophisticated level of manipulation to convince young boys to kill their families in cold blood.”

“ Kindness to animals doesn’t suggest that particular kind of sophistication.”

“Well, he’s older, he’s been out in the world. Maybe he picked up a few things.”

—

13:00

Will walks through the entrance of Dr. Lecter’s practice holding a gift, he drops it by the foot of Hannibal's desk before moving further into the room.

“Good evening, Will. Please come in. Has Christmas come early? Or late?”

“Was for Abigail”

“Was?”

“I thought better of it, I wasn’t thinking straight, I was upset when I bought it. Maybe still am.”

“What is it?”

“A magnifying glass. Fly-tying gear.”

“Teaching her how to fish. Her father taught her how to hunt.”

“That’s why I thought better of it.”

“Pretty paternal, Will.”

“ Aren’t you?”

“Yes. Our good friend Doctor Bloom has advised against taking too personal an interest in Abigail’s welfare. Tell me why are you so angry?”

“I’m angry about being assigned a partner, I’m angry about those boys, I’m angry because I know when I find them, I can’t help them. I can’t, I can’t give them back what they just gave away.”

“A partner?”

“Yeah, Lena Gibbs. Jack introduced her as a marine though.”

“Fascinating…Tell me did she mention anything about the UK”?

“Yeah, actually. How did you-” Hannibal stood from his position to retrieve his tablet, he typed out a phrase and handed the device to his colleague. “I keep an eye on media around the world,” he said, taking in the man's reaction to the words.

“She was engaged to Sherlock Holmes, I’m sure you heard of him. She and a man by the name of John Watson both contributed to Mr. Holmes’s private detective work, right up until the moment he threw himself from St. Bart's hospital, according to speculation he did do to prevent Ms. Gibbs and others from being attacked by a terrorist known as Moriarty.”

“I didn’t take you as one for speculation, Hannibal.”

“Sometimes it’s a necessary measure when secrets are so heavily guarded.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Who said they were her secrets?”

“Well, that's not vague at all.”

“I’m sure with time, you will come to bond with this new partner. Now tell me more about this ‘murder family.’”

“We call them “The lost boys”.

“Ms. Gibbs is likely lost too. And perhaps it can be our responsibility to help her find her way.”

—

16:00

“Bangor, Maine. Stanford, Connecticut, and recently Reston, Virginia.”

“Right.”

“You’re trying to establish a geographical pattern, when the murders were weeks apart.”

“ Other patterns too. Our shooters are minors middle children from traditional affluent families.”

“ We know they’re moving South, so that means we wanna cover the border of North Carolina and Georgia. We need to get files on every missing boy within two hundred miles of North Carolina.”

“There’s a pattern, less to do with geography than psychology."

“What kind of kid does this?”

"And what kind of kid follows a kid who does this?”

“There’s no indication that these kids came from abusive families.”

“No, no, no. Capture bonding. A passive psychological response to a new master has been an essential survival tool for a million years. Bond with your captor, you survive. You don’t…you’re breakfast.”

—

As the S.W.A.T vans pull into the scene Lena, and Will rush to the home, an agent passes the woman an M-4. She remains behind to steady herself for the shot as the rest rush forward. The eldest boy of the group raises his pistol to his “sibling’s” father, Gibbs pulls the trigger and sends off a round through the teenager's shoulder.

The scene erupts into chaos and the youngest boy runs off toward the pool. She and will chase after him, at the edge of the water the child grabs a pistol of his own aiming it at Will’s chest, 

“Don’t shoot!” Will isn’t only talking to the boy, he’s telling her.

Don’t shoot.

“Chris, wait. Don’t shoot. It’s OK. You’re home now, put the gun down, Christopher.”

His kidnapper emerges from the pool shed, and grabs the boy “Shoot him, Christopher.”

Don’t Shoot

“Christopher, please.”

*BANG*

Will freezes, and the kidnapper drops to the ground his ears ring out slightly as Lena moves to disarm the young boy.

“Chris, buddy are you alright?” Will can’t tell if she's whispering or if his ears are still ringing from the shot. He stands like a statue his gaze on the kidnapper's body, a single round through the middle of the eyes. Efficient, he can’t help himself but think. He doesn't even notice as his partner picks up the child and takes him over to the SUV. It’s not until Beverly taps him on the shoulder he breaks out of his trance.

—

05:00 The next morning

“I seldom have patients that ask to see me at such an early hour”

“Am I burdening your routine Dr. Lecter?” If he didn’t know better he’d think the question naive.

“A friend is never a burden.”

“A friend?”

“Would you like to be, or I could simply be your psychiatrist, someone to who you tell everything?”

“The last person I told everything…Killed himself, Doctor. I don’t think that's a track record you’d want to be a part of.”

“I think you and I both know that’s not why Sherlock did what he did.”

“Are you trying to defend him?”

“No merely seek the truth.”

“He was swayed by an evil hand.”

“Evil is subjective.”

---

“Evil is something that consumes. It digests. The rest of time it waits hungry and unseen waiting for the time to strike.”

Coquille (chapter 2)