#everyone is hideous until i approve of their personality

[ongoing-catastrophe]

do allos seriously go around just. feeling? like??? yall just have Strong Emotions towards people you Don't Know? you see a face and you're like "yep that's all I need"??? hello???

[ryker-writes]

To add more angst to your Sibling Vil headcanons, what's if the reader is the one who overblots instead of Vil, after he basically ruins their confidence and realizes Vil has some resentment toward them? Revealing in their overblot form that they never even wanted to be famous and only did it for Vil's approval

yesss the angst I live for it!

For those who didn't see the original post you can fine it here. (Let me know if link doesn't work)

Vil's broken sibling relationship (alternate ending)

when Vil did hang out with you, he would always point out some small thing about you that was out of place

even if you had everything together, he would find something to criticize

afterwards he would always make a comment about how you should be careful because your actions reflect on him and your father

sometimes he would even give you a backhanded compliment or when he was especially angry, he would straight up insult you and claim he's trying to help you

it became very clear that Vil hated you

hated how you acted and how you looked

you two used to get along

he even helped you become who you were today

when you were young, he would always help you with how to act or how to look right for all the cameras

he carefully help you and taught you back then

but now he was openly insulting you and hating you

according to Vil, you were many things

you were an idiot for not being able to understand or see the simplest things

you were naïve and stupid for not realizing that your friends only liked you because of your fame

you were annoying

you were lazy

you were ugly

your own brother said all this to you

the only person you thought you could truly rely on, hated you

maybe he was right about you

maybe all those things were true

everyone else probably say you like that

now it was so much easier to pay attention to all the negative publicity you got

Vil was right

you wish it wasn't him that said it, but he was right

it's safe to say that your confidence wasn't doing too great lately

and as you walked through the school halls, it felt like everyone was watching you with criticizing eyes

like they were just waiting for you to embarrass yourself

and when you did, they would be watching, recording, and laughing

so lost in your own thoughts, you weren't paying much attention to where you were going

and you ran into him

your dear brother who hated everything about you

of course, he started criticizing you again

and in front of everyone

"Looks like you're even worse than I thought if you can't even pay attention to where you're walking. You look more unsightly today than usual. You really can't get anything right can you?"

the students around you two started whispering, some even snickered

they were talking about you

you could just tell

it was too much

everything they were saying was too much

you couldn't be here

not with them, not with Vil

you backed away from Vil with tears in your eyes

and you looked directly at him

the cold and uncaring expression clear on his face

thinking back on it, did he ever even care?

was he only ever helping you because your father was forcing you two to be in the spotlight

did he only help you because he couldn't be seen next to someone so hideous?

how horrible it all was

your life, your image, your thoughts, you

for just one moment you wished they would all stop talking, stop talking about you

without even thinking you sent one spell, a simple spell, in Vil's general direction

and that was enough

enough for the air to suddenly feel so thin and an overwhelming sense of dread flooded through you

the world seemed darker

like someone had dimmed everything down

but the whispers got louder and louder until it turned into shouting

they all hated you

it was clear

you just had to accept and give in

Vil was right

you could feel liquid running down your cheeks

reaching up, you went to wipe away the tears

but when you pulled your hand back, you saw black

those weren't really tears

it was blot covering your hand

and it wouldn't stop running down your cheeks like a river that never ends

it ran down your hands and even covered your arms

you could feel it run along your skin and even drip down to the ground

but none of that even mattered right now

Vil stood in front of you now looking shocked

everyone else scrambled to get away from you

of course they did

"You should be proud, Vil. They all love you, and would never run away from you."

he pulled out his magical pen

"You're even incredibly stupid when you overblot. You can't even see how much they love you more than me. They've said that you're the most beautiful. You don't even work that hard and you get amazing opportunities. Meanwhile spend every hour of every day trying to be the best."

looking down at yourself, you could see that your clothes have even changed

beautifully designed clothes were in the place of your old ones

drops of blots swirled down your clothes, and somehow made them look nicer

Vil said they called you the most beautiful, but he's also told you how ugly you were in the past

how could he suddenly change his words like that

they obviously didn't like you that much

they constantly talk and even now avoid you

it made you angry

Vil has been nothing but cruel to you

you couldn't control it

and you lashed your magic at him

he was able to dodge some of your attacks and even started attacking you

your anger just kept building up

"Are you serious? You made me like this. You helped guide me when we were younger. I never even wanted any of those roles! I never wanted to live like this!"

you sent a particularly strong attack his way and he took it full force

Vil staggered back, disheveled and wounded from the fight so far

but your attacks just kept coming and only grew in intensity

"All I ever wanted was for you to just accept me, to like me. But ever since we started growing up you've done nothing but hate me."

it was getting harder to see and hear what was happening

ink plagued all your senses

and all you felt was anger

when you next opened your eyes, everything was blurry for a second

your body felt weak and it hurt to even move

but when your vision cleared, you could see that you were in the school infirmary

and sitting next to your bed was Vil

he seemed to notice you were awake

"How are you feeling?"

despite his calm tone, Vil looked rough

still beautiful as always, but a well trained eye could see the way his hair was slightly out of place and makeup ever so slightly smudged in the corners

he had been here a while

once again you could feel water run down your cheeks

you quickly reached up to wipe it away and looked at your hands

it was actual water this time, not blot

Vil sighed and grabbed your hand

"I'm sorry."

a heavy silence hung in the air afterwards

a million things that he wanted to say

things he needed to say

but right now, he couldn't find the words

so Vil promised himself that he would be able to tell you everything and that he'd do everything he can to try to fix what both he and his father had broken

[silverghostblog]

Info

This part doesn’t have to be read (it’s an infodump mostly) but it’s convenient :) I am killing the part of me that cringes at myself

More information will be added and changed as I expand on this character

Most info should be viewed ooc. This is mostly just bc the character is an oc but unless any info here is stated between characters, it would most likely be unknown (biggest example is his face)

Most info not on here will be on my main blog ( @mashedpotatosinacup ) in my Silver Ghost tag

Info for this character is constantly changing as I rotate him in my mind but I will try to keep this post updated

This is all very incomplete and very infodumpy but I’ll make official writings sometime or other

This oc is a bit of a Mary Sue but whateverrrr literally whateverrrr -

Basic info

Name: Elliot Lloyd

Age: 26

Gender: ?????

Alias: Silver Ghost

Pronouns: It/He

Ethnicity: Caucasian (Canadian-American)

Height: 5’7

Main Backstory (as of right now)

Silver came from generational trauma and undiagnosed mental illness at a young age. He grew up bullied and harassed until he finally escaped to college and moved out as soon as possible where he met Madison Valentino (Killer Cupid). He studied medicine and chemistry. He took up petty theft to get by, slowly building up his skills as time went on. He quickly became interested in how insane Gotham was and the heros and villains within. He spent more time studying, slowly driving himself away from everyone and into madness, believing that he could do it too and become something better than what he was and prove everyone wrong. In his rage, he’d end up killing someone (more to elaborate). He would be someone even if that someone was bad.

Silver’s biggest mistake has been trying to give himself powers. He was tired of just being a petty thief and ended up trying to use what knowledge he had of other villains to repeat the steps they did to gain their powers. He used what scientific knowledge he had to set up a fake lab accident. He thought it was working until he tried it. There was an awful explosion and he’d mutilated himself, making him hideous in his own eyes. His face looked deformed and his body looked monstrously scarred and ugly. He hasn’t been able to reverse it or feel better about himself, so he wears his mask whenever he can and doesn’t go outside a lot except for when he has to work in person in his civilian life.

After the whole ordeal, he started his villainous life. Even if powers didn’t work out, he could still do something.

Unorganized nonsense

Actually has really bad anxiety and needs like constant approval because the thought of messing up or making a mistake and ruining a relationship with someone (especially the rest of the krakens) terrifies him

Can have severe anxious and paranoid episodes where he needs to be alone in fear of hurting someone or being hurt. He has occasional panic attacks but hates them because they make him feel weak

He uses his villain persona as an escape when he’s by himself, seeing himself as a different person, someone who doesn’t care what people think, who can be bad and mess up and none of the people he care about would know and think he’s a loser

He fanboys so much over the other villains while trying to act cool and wants to be something better than he can be

Mad scientist esq kind of like a mix between both Dan and Herbert from Reanimator

Deathly afraid of fire

He wants to be perfect for everyone that’s around him because so many people in his past had left him alone. He holds in his excitement when out of costume and doesn’t talk about his hyperfixations because he doesn’t want to come off as annoying or overbearing. Eventually this leads to him being so focused on being perfect that he forgets to live and let himself experience things

The explosion did give him power (will expand on this eventually)

He has a hard time expressing his feelings and it often comes out more aggressive than he means to be but he doesn’t apologize because he doesn’t want to seem like less of a villain

Main voiceclaim is Charlie Slimecicle but I have others (full video is on my main and I have a part two in the works bc I’m indecisive)

He smells like metal and char that’s loosely covered by deodorant and cheap cologne

Freaking DORK

Personality

Silver is rude and short with people very often but he rarely means it, only assuming that’s how he’s supposed to act. Especially when he’s very focused on something he’s irritable and constantly insecure. He’s very twitchy and paranoid in general. He’s tough to get through to but he’s really very sensitive and soft. He’s scared and angry and assumes everyone dislikes him immediately so he always makes it a point to hate them first before they can hate him. It pushes people away but being alone makes him feel safe - or so he tells himself.

[tomdayaland]

Spideychelle Fic Rec --> Under 5k:

-  to you, i bequeath all of our yesterdays

The progression of something more between Peter and Michelle, as seen by everyone else.

-  Something Creative

Peter gets Michelle for Secret Santa, and he totally flips out.

-  That "something magical in the air" thing they talk about on TV

He thinks he finally understands what this is once they're outside. That "there's something magical in the air" thing you hear in TV commercials at this time of the year? It's definitely happening to him right now.

-  nobody ain't got nothing on you

michelle receives a birthday gift from somebody other than her mom for the first time in her life, and it almost makes her cry. almost.

-  show-off

It’s not as if he needs his ego stroked; honestly, that's the least of his priorities. But… he has this crazy, overwhelming desire for MJ’s seal of approval; hell, just a nod, a smile, or even a thumbs up would do. Some acknowledgement, at least. He, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to just impress her.

-  Quiet Hours

Peter learns the hard way that he should never, ever, under any circumstances, Spider-It-Up™ while distracted. Especially when that distraction happens to be his neighbor, Michelle Jones.

- MJ and May, May and MJ

How MJ and May grow closer as MJ and Peter's relationship progresses through the years.

-  Fate and Free Will

It's raining, and all Michelle can think about is how much she might love Peter.

-  Inked

Most people get their inking when they're thirteen. Everyone has someone by the time they're fifteen. Michelle Jones is fifteen, and her wrist is still uninked. Soulmate AU in which your soulmate's name appears on the inside of your wrist.

-  can't pretend that you don't amaze me

Peter and mj's relationship through college

-  Sour Gummy Worms

A panic session the night before a project is a little bit more enjoyable when one is with Michelle Jones. But if Peter isn't careful, he might find himself delving a little deeper into his feelings than he would like to.

-  Practice Sessions

Peter Parker has learned how to smirk, and now MJ is in trouble.

-  Force of Habit

Peter is doing a fantastic job of keeping his relationship with MJ a secret... Until a quick departure from decathlon practice causes him to forget where he is.

-  An Informed Decision

MJ isn’t the type of person to lead herself on, so she is able to recognize her limits and be realistic in the face of an unrequited, confusing crush. But not every opportunity is worth taking, and it’s up to MJ to allow her experience to help her make a choice about what she wants.

-  when I say 'break up', I mean 'I love you'

“So why are you fake-dating Peter, again? “Because in the intellectual community, he is, as some would say, ‘a catch’,” she says, taking the time to add air-quotes. Ned snorts. “You think he’s hot.”

-  area 5+1

Five times Peter asks MJ to do something, and one time she asks him.

-  tug, boat

“I woke up in love with someone.”

-  Cupid, please hear my cry

Peter falls in love at 5:47 on the Flushing Line Subway route.

-  If you fall for me, I'll catch you

“Peter, nothing bad is going to happen! It’s only tryouts. Just be bad on purpose if you want and they won’t even let you on the team. But you’ll meet new people… new girls. Get over your crush on Michelle while you’re-”

Peter splutters for a defence, “Crush?! I don’t have a crush on MJ, Ned! She’s our best friend, I don’t have a crush on her. No. No way. She’s like, hideous, or whatever.”

-  the whole world is a blur, but you are standing

Two young bookworms meet in an unusual way.

-  your quiet afternoon crush

MJ is ruining Peter's life one cup of tea and smart ass comment at a time.

-  take it slow

MJ might know Peter is Spider-Man and she might be taunting him with Hannah Montana. And they might be going on not-dates to Starbucks.

-  Senses

Peter's heightened senses are giving him a hard time and he's trying to figure out why.

-  Then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid (like ‘I love you.’)

Michelle Jones walks into Peter’s favourite coffee shop. He deals with it about as well as you’d expect.

-  Don’t fear the dark ‘cause I’m your dawn

The apartment is too quiet. Michelle goes to investigate.

-  i'll love you in my peaceful nights, even more in my sleepless ones

5 times MJ comforts Peter is his sleep and the one time he seeks her out.

-  My Home is Yours to Settle In

What does she expect Peter to do, really?

Does she expect Spider-Man to wrap her in a hug? Grab her hand and take her someplace private? Pull his mask above his mouth and kiss her? Obviously not.

-  Cleanup On Aisle Three

Grocery Store Acquaintances Meet-Bang. Let's not complicate this.

-  to have and to fold

Peter thinks Polly likes him because she looks at him a lot when he's in the store she works at. Her name isn't Polly and that's not the only thing he's wrong about.

-  cultivating softness

Peter doesn't mind that everyone thinks MJ is mean and scary - he knows who she is.

-  lost and found

Talking to the cute art teacher across the hall should be a piece of (birthday) cake, right? However...

-  no place in the world that can compare

MJ and Peter have moment in the elevator.

[therealvinelle]

I was just reading the newest chapter and Jane's anxiety over Caius finding out about her fuckup got me wondering about how you see his relationship with the guards. What kind of master is he? In BD when he slapped Irina, it kinda seemed like that's normal behavior for him. Do you think he does that with the guards when they fail him or anger him? Or he just terrorizes everyone with the force of his personality?

(Anon has read my fanfiction Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream, and the context for this ask is that Jane thought it would be funny if she embarrassed Carlisle in front of his human colleagues by pretending to be his bastard daughter. She did this without knowing that Carlisle is currently under federal investigation. She just called a lot of attention to herself, from the FBI at that, thereby breaking her own law. She asks Carlisle if he could put in a nice word with Aro about this, and hopes Caius never finds out.)

I think Caius is a very strict man who does not suffer fools or failure.

They are the Volturi, they are to be feared and respected by all the vampire world. We see how they even choreograph entering a battle scene: these people take their image seriously. 

So, you make a mistake that’ll imperil the Volturi image, and Caius will be furious with you. I suspect he and Aro have a good cop-bad cop routine when it comes to punishing their servants.

However, I don’t think he’s the Voldemort kind of leader who terrorizes his guard over petty tantrums. It would give rise to resentment, to disrespect, and in turn desertion (I think Chelsea’s power only goes so far). And unlike Voldemort, who just wanted to burn it all, Caius wants to rule the world forever. To do that, he needs his servants to respect him, to want to earn his approval, and to take pride in their servitude. This means the guard has to like him and find him a worthy leader. (Check out this post for a meta on Volturi dynamics)

There’s also the fact that the Volturi three are very much about aloof regality. They sit still on their thrones, for so long that they’ve petrified. When Caius has Irina executed, he gives a hand signal so the guard can do it. Slapping people around would make him base. It would be embarrassing to everyone, and I imagine Aro would stick in the tower before long.

Keep in mind, he’s from a very different time and culture than ours, and so is the guard. To him, being a strong, but strict, man who commands absolute authority is appropriate. Modern Western culture is very individualistic and egalitarian, and this is one of many things that will make the Volturi, and Caius especially, look off-putting to us.

The Irina slap was a different matter. To put it into context of what was happening, Caius just found out Renesmée has a heartbeat, can’t believe what he’s seeing, and calls forward the witness to ask her again what the hell she saw in the first place. Irina is just standing there in a daze, Caius snaps his fingers, someone in the guard pokes her, Irina is still just standing there. Eh, I’ll just paste it in:

“Where is the informer? Let her come forward!” [Caius] craned his neck around until he spotted Irina lingering behind the wives. 

“You! Come!” Irina stared at him uncomprehendingly, her face like that of someone who has not entirely awakened from a hideous nightmare. Impatiently, Caius snapped his fingers. One of the wives’ huge bodyguards moved to Irina’s side and prodded her roughly in the back. Irina blinked twice and then walked slowly toward Caius in a daze. She stopped several yards short, her eyes still on her sisters. Caius closed the distance between them and slapped her across the face.

It came out very degrading, and very unpleasant to us humans who have bad connotations to men hitting women. And it’s not like Caius had a lot of respect for Irina when he did that. Then there’s fact that he kills her soon afterwards, which puts this slap in a callous, violent, light.

However, given the context here, the sheer tension of the whole situation when there were two armies assembled and Carlisle had just presented an immortal-child-who-isn’t-immortal, and the woman who caused all of this is playing statue instead of explaining herself...

Caius could have refrained from slapping Irina, but this reads to me like he was snapping her out of it. It’s not a particularly damning moment to me.

So, to answer your question, it’s option two: Caius terrorizes everyone, but only with the force of his personality.

(Since this is my blog and no one can stop me, I’m once again going to reference the Spartan story of the boy who let a fox eat his insides because he had been trained to be tough as steel and show no weakness. That level of discipline is what Caius inspires in his guard.)

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter Two: Paint It Black

Hello Loves! Just to let everyone know, my chapters go from flashbacks to present day! Thank you all for sticking with me and I am sorry this chapter is posted a bit late! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Gore, violence, swearing

Read Chapter One Here 

He had spent several hours outside your window, trying to figure out the next phase of his plan. But once the Doctor had arrived and swept you into his arms, he had decided to go home. Not back to his apartment, that was the place he resided. His home was a place nobody could know about. 

It was a place for only him and his mentor Drew. 

He walked into the kitchen to find Drew cleaning up his knives. “Hey little brother, out with your girl again?” Drew asked with a mischievous smile. 

Little brother was Drew’s nickname for the boy, they weren’t blood-related, but being 7 years younger than Drew, he had taken the boy under his wing.

“Yeah, until her stupid fucking doctor came.” the boy replied. 

“Don’t worry about the Doctor, your time will come.” Drew reassured. “Come, sit, I just finished up making dinner.” 

The boy sat down, pushing aside Drew’s papers so he had space to eat.

“Ah, ah,ah, you’re going to want to look at those. Those papers contain all the fun things you need to know. I’m not teaching you all of this for nothing huh?” Drew smiles, placing the papers back in front of the boy, alongside a bowl of stew.

“Do you really think this will work?” The boy asked, glancing over Drew’s explicitly written notes.

“Don’t worry little brother, this whole thing is trial and error.” Drew reassured. “Don’t be intimidated I’ve had this whole thing planned for a while and she won’t be the first, she can be our finale-” Drew was interrupted by a scream. He rolled his eyes. “Goddamnit, this bitch just never shuts up. I wanted to surprise you with her, but now she spoiled it.” 

The boy gave Drew a curious look. Drew chuckled. “Come on little brother I will show you.” Drew led the boy down to their basement. “After she’s gone, I’ll soundproof the basement better. I just needed an idea of how loud these whores will scream.”

The color drained from the boy’s face as his gaze fell on the woman. She was tied to Drew’s metal table, she looked like one of the frogs that the Boy had to set up for dissection for Professor Irving’s class, except she was very much alive, and slightly bloodied. 

“Meet trial number one little brother, she looks quite like your girl huh? I think all of em’ should just so you can be prepared for your finale with her.” Drew turned to the Boy. “Surprise.”

“How long has she been missing?” the Boy asked, panicked. How could Drew not warn him? “Relax, like I said she’s trial one. Just a corner whore, no one will even notice she is gone. The next one will be the real challenge, I want to find one exactly like your girl and I already found her, this one we will just pump and dump. Did you get those chemicals from your professor like I asked?” 

The Boy nodded “It all in my backpack.” The Boy couldn’t drag his eyes away from the girl on the table. Yes she had your hair and eye color, but she was a hideous thing compared to you. A mere whore could never compare to you. “If she’s a whore I don’t want to touch her. I’ll try the next one.”

Drew huffed. “Fine, you only have to watch this time virgin boy. But next time, I expect you to be hands on. I’m not doing all this work for nothing.”

The Boy’s face was emotionless the whole time he watched Drew, even when the blood spurted, even when the girl looked at him, pleading for help. Even when she stopped breathing and the chemicals he brought were used to melt her flesh. 

The Boy felt nothing.

________________________________________________________________

There was an extra flounce to your step as you made your way to your favorite cafe. Maybe it was because you had successfully hired a few new employees to help your company flourish, maybe it was because one of them had already settled a new deal in Ohio, or maybe it was because you knew Spencer was coming back from a case today. 

Hell, you had just had a fantastic day and you needed to update Ava and grab your favorite mocha latte to top it off. And maybe it was your 4th coffee of the day, but so what?

Your face lit up even more when you saw Ava. “Hello my darling best friend.” You said causing Ava to grin. 

“Hey there babe, what’s got you so preppy today?” Ava asked. 

“Well, let’s see; I hired 3 new employees who already are fantastic, one of which already booked us a design job in Ohio. Oh and my superhero hot boyfriend is coming home from a case tonight.” You grinned.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you told him I call him that. I wanted to dissolve into the floor and simultaneously kick your ass.” She laughed. “As for the new employees, are any of them hot? Single? Oh and Ohio is good I guess.” 

You giggled. “Well Thomas is incredibly handsome, but I am afraid his soon to be husband might want to have a word with you if you try anything. As for the other two, Aiyla and May, I think you’ll find them stunning and single.” 

Ava wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t tempt me girl, you know I swing both ways. Anyway, grab a seat, I’ll grab your coffee and bring it out to you. I get off early today so we can actually talk to each other rather than me hopping back and forth between the counter. James gets to hold down the fort with Emma and the newbie Jane today.”

“Well, maybe Jane will help him get out of his shell.” You hoped. Ava shrugged. 

“Maybe, anyway, Ohio?” Ava questioned.

 “Oh! Yes. My new minions are sketching our designs as we speak. The company is called Ohio technological, a very original name yes-” You said as Ava snorted. “But they’re trying to create an office space like Google, however I am going to one up that and add my own spin to it. Also your girl has a fantastic budget from this company and I am being paid bank!” You squealed.

Ava squealed with you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tight. “(Y/N) that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you girl, you’ve been working so hard on this and I am so glad it’s all working out.” 

“There is one downside though.” You said with a sigh. “I have to get my plans to them by next week and once they approve of them, I have to head to Ohio for three weeks. After that I will just have Thomas overlook the project and tie up any loose ends. Either him or I will have to fly down and check in on the progress every couple weeks until then.”

 “Could be worse though.” Ava shrugged.

“That’s true, but Spencer and I have been dating for almost 3 months and half the time we can’t see each other. I’m worried that the distance will ruin us.” You confessed.

 Ava's face went completely serious and she grabbed your arm gently. “(Y/N, I have never seen a boy more in love with you. You have never seemed happier in your life. You two will make it work I promise. You’re both so in love it makes me sick.” You snorted out a laugh and Ava smirked.

 “Like I said, if he has a brother-” 

“AVA.” You groaned.

 _______________________________________________________________

The boy burst through the door, startling Drew. 

“Yo, what the fuck man?” Drew hissed. 

“She’s leaving. Fuck, fuck, fuck Drew. She’s leaving.” The Boy slammed the door shut, he leaned against it and slid down, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey little bro, take a breath, what happened?” Drew came over and pushed the boy’s hands away from his face.

“She’s leaving me Drew. For three weeks! She’s going to Ohio for THREE WEEKS. 21 days, almost a month! I won’t see her and when I do she will probably be with that goddamn doctor! What do I do?” The boy cried. 

“That fucking whore, it’s like she knows she’s making you suffer. She’s probably reveling in it. Don’t worry. While she’s gone, we will perfect our craft and get you ready. Then when she comes back you’ll strike.” 

Drew reassured the Boy, pulling him in for a hug.The Boy pulled away, dragging an arm across his tearful eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“I swear it.” Drew growled. 

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

“Garcia what did you find?” Reid asked, pleading that it would be a reliable lead. 

“Something that you won’t really like Reid.” Garcia said seriously, her usually bouncy personality was flat. “Something about your gift irked me, I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then I remembered; the Curtis case.” 

Spencer’s heart fell into his stomach. The Curtis case had happened a few months after Spencer had started dating you. It had happened right here in Quantico, which terrified Spencer, especially since you fell perfectly under the unsubs victimology; 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/E/C), successful middle class women who lived alone for one reason or another. You had luckily been out of town for a business trip at the time, working on an office design for a company in Ohio. 

Spencer remembered a phone call he had with you one night during the case. He had called you after finding yet another dead victim, raped and torn to pieces, whore scribbled all over their wall in their blood. It had made him sick, because all he could picture was you in their place.

It was late when he called you, but he had just needed to hear your voice and know you were okay. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Your voice was sleepy, but concerned, you had kept up with the news and had heard about the horrible murders going on while you were gone.

 “Not really, but I just needed to hear your voice. There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, you could hear the tears in his voice. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.”

 “Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood.

 It had worked slightly as you heard him let out a small laugh followed by a sniffle. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer paused and thought for a second, part of him wanted you as far away as possible, while the other part just wanted you in his arms. “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

“I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” A true smile beamed across his face, you guys had never said that to one another before and it meant just as much over the phone as it would in person.

Spencer flashed back to the present. “Andrew Curtis is in jail right now with three life sentences, how could this have anything to do with his case?”

 Garcia cringed a bit, “His calling card.” The words hit Spencer like a ton of bricks, how could he have not seen it before?

The gift box, the red bow, the eyes scratched out of the picture, that was exactly what Curtis had sent to his victims before they were attacked by him. Most of the women had thought it was a prank, a way to scare them into submission, they were incredibly wrong.

“So what could it be, a copycat?” Emily asked.

 “That is a possibility, they are using the exact same delivery company Andrew Curtis used, I found this on the security footage.” Garcia pulled up an image of a man wearing a uniform; it was a hideous orange color with the words “Swiftly Delivered” on it, khaki shorts, and white tennis shoes. 

“You think the company would have shut down or at least redesigned their hideous uniform after all the association with Curtis.” Emily mumbled.

“Well, I think in this case it’s lucky they didn’t, that way we could easily find the connection.” JJ said.

 “How could something like that have gotten cleared by security?” Rossi wondered aloud. “You think someone would have possibly recognized it, the case is still pretty fresh.” 

“Well, the box had no threat, no weapons, they must have just scanned it and sent it through. Alyssa was the one who brought it up with the rest of the mail. She said nothing seemed off about it when she brought it up, she just thought it was someone who was sweet on our pretty boy.” Morgan explained.

“Everyone is just so invested in my love life that we miss obvious clues.” Spencer growled frustrated.

“Well, at least we have a lead.” Hotch interrupted. “JJ, Morgan, I need you guys to head over to Swiftly Delivered. Ask them about their past customers and see if they can remember our unsub. Emily, you and Reid head over to (Y/N)’s apartment and see if you can find anything. Rossi and I are going over to talk to Curtis.”

“Hotch, I need to talk to Curtis.” Reid protested. “If he knows anything about (Y/N)-”

“No Reid. You know (Y/N)’s apartment better than anyone. You will notice if anything is wrong.” Hotch explained sternly.

“Hotch-” Reid argued. 

“No. I don’t trust Curtis, he seemed too interested during his original case. If he knows something, I can’t have him getting under your skin. Reid’s head fell in defeat. “But-” Reid’s head shot back up. “If you guys finish before us. Meet us at the prison.” Hotch ordered. 

Hope filled Reid’s eyes.

TAGLIST

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii

[stitchandani]

Story:

Lilo's College Days That Defining Moment The story of the moment Lilo and Mertle stopped being enemies and started, super slowly, being friends as teenagers. Written by Doverstar. Read below

16-year-old Mertle Edmonds didn’t go barefoot anywhere unless she was in her room. Especially not when every single pair of her sandals was a designer brand. Unfortunately, tonight she had to make an exception. It was a performance celebrating the 50th anniversary of her hula school. Being only two years from graduation, Moses, their Kumu, had decided to allow his oldest students to star in a special dance they’d all worked together to create. It was always easy working with Yuki, Teresa, and Elena. It was even easy working with Victoria. Mostly. But Lilo…Lilo Pelekai always had the worst ideas—the weirdest ideas. She was always trying to stink up the show, steal the spotlight. Luckily Moses didn’t approve half of her plans during the brainstorming, and the dance had come out okay. In fact, Mertle had shone out more than she usually did tonight. She did her part perfectly—the swing of her hips, the smoothness in her steps, the waft of both arms. Not a single slip-up, and not a curly hair came out of her ponytail. And of course, doing hula required she go barefoot. That made total sense. What was really not like her was running through the muddy trail down to the beach without shoes on. She didn’t intend to. She just had to get out of that building. Her mother had been there to congratulate her after the performance, as always. Moms gushed a lot, but at least Mertle could always say—with confidence—that  her mom wasn’t doing it just because she was her mom. It was because, obviously, Mertle deserved every bit of the praise she received. When Mertle had gone to change into her green tank top and blue cutoff jeans, after the audience had all but left, she took her sweet time. It was even better that she got to the only bathroom right before Lilo had, so she got to see the sweet flash of irritation in those too-close-together brown eyes. Even that blue thing, Stitch, looked vexed. (Mertle had been telling herself for years that she didn’t know exactly what Stitch was, even if certain events during her childhood proved otherwise. Events and a talking dog who was probably asleep in her bedroom right now.) If Victoria hadn’t gone home so quickly after the show, she probably would’ve been annoyed for her creep friend too.  Some nights just went too perfectly. Upon emerging from the bathroom, the redhead found that everyone was staring at her. As well they should—she looked great. But it was a different kind of staring. There was something really concerning in the way Teresa was practically biting her lip off and the way Moses seemed to be struggling to say something. “What?” Mertle tossed her ponytail, hands on her hips. “What did I miss?” Her mother, eyes strangely puffy, pushed past Moses to put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. Mrs. Edmonds’ glasses looked foggy. “Mertle…sweetheart…” Was she getting all choked up? Why? Mertle’s eyes cut to Elena and Yuki and back to her mom. How embarrassing. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait till they got out of the hālau first? Nobody liked a blubberer. Totally unprofessional. Her mom had always been just a little overemotional with, well, basically everything, and it got old fast. “Mom, everybody’s looking! What—” “It’s—Carl. It’s your daddy, Mertle.” Words blurred after that. Something about a phone call, something about missing the show tonight, something about “driving under the influence”. Mertle heard it. She just didn’t register what exactly had happened in the last twenty minutes. Her daddy couldn’t be gone. There was no way. He was rich; he owned a store, a resort, three convertibles. He was too important to be dead. As Mertle looked around, past her hysterical mother and at the remaining faces in the room, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. Everyone was still watching her, why were they watching her? She didn’t want to be watched. She didn’t want all the attention now. Not now. Couldn’t they take a hint? Wasn’t this one of those times where everybody was supposed to go away? Or just not be here? She hated the way they were gawking at her. Her daddy was

gone. What did that mean? Mertle felt it slowly sinking in further and further. Carl was dead. He died just moments ago. He was here then and now he wasn’t. Her face tingled. She knew she was about to cry, and she totally hated people seeing her cry. Didn’t cry often. She wanted her mom to give her one of those too-tight, really unnecessary, unwanted hugs, but everyone seemed frozen. Even Mrs. Edmonds. In that split second, Mertle looked at Teresa. Teresa looked away. Then Elena. She fiddled with her hair and glanced at the wall. Yuki met her gaze, just for a moment, and then she started fidgeting in her hula skirt, eyes downcast. The only person who stared right back at her was Lilo. Lilo was unashamedly waiting for Mertle to look at her, and the sympathy there, sympathy that was so clearly genuine, was almost enough to make teenage Edmonds gag. Without another word, she pushed past her mom, Moses, her classmates, and bolted out the open door into the warm night air. So there she was, barefoot, running through the slightly-damp path through the tropical woods to…she didn’t know where. Maybe the beach? Not home, no thank you. Mertle wanted to be alone, where those morons in the halau couldn’t find her and stand around being useless again. She didn’t know what she’d wanted them to do. Something, hello! Funny; she always knew what she wanted. Well, she knew what she did not want. What she didn’t want was...basically everything they’d just done. A whole lot of nothing. Nothing. That was what they were, after all, right? All of them. They were nothing. Not as important as she was. Not as talented, not as pretty. What had she expected? A posse wasn’t supposed to be a hug or a kind word.  They’d never mattered that much in her world before. Except when she needed someone to yell at or to agree with her. So why did their actions back there matter now? She was out of breath already. Really needed more exercise. Wasn’t a dazzling hula career enough? Okay, maybe not a dazzling career, not yet. But someday. And practicing for it was clearly wearing her poor, hard-working body thin. She paused, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. She must be tired from the incredible show she’d just put on. That was it. Not out of shape at all. No way, not her. Someday she would have a dazzling hula career; she’d be a sensation, and then… Dad won’t make it to any more of my shows. The thought crashed down on her like the waves she heard beating the surf off to her right, somewhere past the trees and the palmettos. The weight of what she had learned just moments ago was finally starting to make her ache, and Mertle slumped against the trunk of a palm tree. Tears ran down her nose, and she felt herself sliding down the trunk, hugging her knees as she crouched in the sand. Moonlight trickled through the branches and stars twinkled in the clear sky. Mertle didn’t spend a bunch of time outside, unless it was a weekend. She might have enjoyed the night wind playing with her ponytail. If her daddy wasn’t dead. He used to visit. When she was little. When she was 5, 8, even once when she was 10. He’d bring her expensive gifts from his store in Honolulu. She wore a bangle he’d given her now, right above the old charm bracelet on her wrist. It said Daddy’s Little Princess in letters that used to be hot pink. She had been young enough then that being a Princess seemed an achievable goal. Here in the present, it was for luck. Or maybe to remind herself he existed. Because until today, she hadn’t heard from him in three long, disappointing years. Hadn’t seen him in five. Why was he gone? She needed him! Without Carl in the world, she felt…it was like she wasn’t special anymore. Like she wasn’t important, like she wasn’t a star. Her daddy, when he had bothered to show up or call or write or send her presents, had managed every time to make her feel like she was somebody. She believed it, too, to this very night, because he told her so often when they were together. He told her how amazing she was, and how lucky, because she had him for a father,

and he could give her anything. Not to mention a mother whose job gave them whatever they didn’t already have. Now there was nobody to remind her how incredible she was. How incredible she just had to be. She would start to think it was all a lie, and she was just as ordinary and witless as any of those girls in that stupid school. Because the one person in the world who believed it as much as Mertle had was on the side of a road somewhere, never to open his eyes again. “It’s not fair,” Mertle sobbed. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.” She jumped when she heard someone behind her. “Mertle?” Mertle thumbed the moisture out from underneath her glasses. “Go away.” “I know how—” “I said go away, Weirdlo!” Lilo was quiet as she slipped her yellow duffel bag off her shoulder, letting it drop in the sand, kneeling beside the redhead. She was in khaki shorts and a red top. Must’ve changed while Mertle had been running. It looked hideous on her. “I know how you feel,” Lilo said almost neutrally, going on as if Mertle hadn’t snapped at her. Mertle refused to turn and look at her. She so did not need this, not right now, not from…it. “You? Puh-leeze. Don’t make me laugh.” “I do,” Lilo insisted. “You’re probaby really confused.” She crossed her legs to get more comfortable. “And scared.” Her voice got lower and she looked at the hands in her lap. “And lost.” Mertle rolled her eyes, but that made hot tears spill faster down her cheeks and she rubbed them off angrily, worried her makeup would smear. “What do you know?” “I know you’re really gonna miss him. You talk about him a lot.” “Yeah, right.” Mertle scoffed, almost laughing for real then. “He wasn’t even a good dad! He was never here. Why should I care?” “But he was still your Ohana, right? I mean...he was still your dad.” Mertle was quiet for a second, contemplating that. Yeah, he was still her dad. But even so, what kind of dad up and leaves for the big city when you’re 2? Or stays away for years at a time, just so he can expand some dumb store? But he’d still come by every once in a while. He’d take her out to get some of Luki’s shave ice. He’d watch her surf. He’d even taken her to get her ears pierced. And when she picked out her first pair of earrings and held them up to him, two little diamonds, he told her they were dull compared to… Mertle felt her chest heave again and she turned her body further away from Lilo, to shield the mess she was obviously becoming. Worthless. She was worthless now, because she did have him to tell her otherwise. Stupid man. Why had he done this to her? What was he thinking? Had he been thinking of her as he died? Had he been scared? He’d been all alone. Lilo put her hand on Mertle’s shoulder, and the bespectacled puddle finally craned her head around to glance at her. “Why are you doing this?” Mertle demanded, sniffling, voice harder than she thought it would be. Lilo didn’t retract her hand. “I lost my dad, too,” she reminded the girl. “I know what it’s like right after….” She didn’t finish that part. Closing her eyes as if going back in time for a moment, Lilo sighed very softly, and Mertle thought she’d never heard someone sound so tired. Then Lilo opened her eyes and caught Mertle’s gaze again. “Anyway. I didn’t want you to be by yourself.” She managed a smile. “Nobody gets left behind.” Mertle gawked at her. She’d gawked at Lilo Pelekai plenty of times, dozens, hundreds. All the time they’d known each other, Mertle looked down her nose at Lilo. She’d sneered and called her names for over ten years. When they were children, the Edmonds child’s sole purpose in life had been to make her rival miserable, because if someone else could be miserable, Mertle wouldn’t have to be. This too-creative, too-nice, too-weird native teen was a freak. An oddball, a dork, a loser, a total irritant. The fly at Mertle’s lifelong picnic. Lilo was gross, loud, pathetic, had terrible taste in fashion… And she was the only one who’d stayed. Yuki, Teresa, Elena, they’d all looked away. But Lilo...Lilo had stared back, because

something of merit was happening to Mertle, something that mattered. She’d run after the girl who had tried to drag her down with every breath she’d taken since they were five years old. She acted like Mertle was important. Like Mertle wasn't worthless. Like she cared. Like they were friends. And slowly, through her tears, Mertle smiled back.

[gaemkyuu]

I’m Right Here (Owen Joyner x Fictional Character

Warnings: anxiety attack and self-deprecation A/N: Sorry this one took so long! The fictional character has been shamed for her anxiety from her parents. The experience of an anxiety attack is based on the ones I have. It’s different for everyone. Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

I’m Right Here

“Hey Jade! Wait up!” Jade was walking out of her trailer and on her way to her car, until she heard Owen call out for her. She paused and turned around to face the tall blonde, who stopped in front of her slightly out of breath. He bent slightly over his knees, catching his breath and still in costume.

“Aren’t you supposed to be filming a scene right now?” she cocked her eyebrow at him and rested a hand on her hip. They were on set filming for Julie and the Phantoms season 2, and Jade was brought in as a minor character as a part of Carrie’s posse. She didn’t have any major dialogues save the one or two quips her character had, so she was mostly there for the dance portions. That often meant she was able to leave set earlier or she had less days on set than others.

“Yeah, they’re setting up, but I wanted to catch you before heading out” Owen started to shift his weight from leg to leg and began to avoid eye contact. Jade felt butterflies in her stomach but immediately tried to suppress them, knowing that what she hoped was happening was probably not. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, only for them to be deflated. “You got any plans Tomorrow night?”

“Just snuggling with my dog and drinking wine while singing karaoke” she mentally facepalmed herself at her honesty. She just sealed the deal on being forever single. Owen fidgeted and the air between them became awkward, no thanks to Jade’s awkward confession.

“Listen, I was wondering, and you can totally say no, if you wanted to maybe go to dinner with me? That’s if dinner is something you do, not like eat, because I’m sure you eat dinner, but if you don’t I’m not judging you. I mean like dinner dinner, y’know?” the boy looked frazzled and a little desperate to stop his verbal diarrhea from making him look even stupider than he did in that current moment. 

“Like a date?” Jade hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but then again, a girl had to know. Owen gave her a sheepish smile and a nod yes, instantly filling her with excitement. “YES! Uhm... I mean sound great. I’d totally love- i mean like to go on a date with you” she blushed furiously, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate or too excited.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7?” she nodded and he smiled turning around and jogging back to set. Jade felt like she could fly or bench press a bus. She always tried to deny having feelings for him, but whenever she was asked she would stumble over her words and everyone instantly knew. Savannah and Tori often teased her about her feelings and pushed her to ask him out, but she was too nervous. Correction, she was too afraid to be rejected.

Jade never thought of herself as anything more than a plain and ordinary girl who happened to be able to dance well. She wasn’t overly pretty but she wasn’t hideous either, and there were very little standout qualities. Most people described her as quiet, mousy with a pretty smile, but nothing ever more than that. She believed she got it from her family as they too were described similarly. Her mother was a dentist and her father worked at a law firm. She was an only child and they have always lived a comfortable life, so naturally Jade never had any interesting stories to tell. She was just your average plain Jane.

The drive back to her apartment was full of joy and she blasted the music in her car as she drove, singing along to every tune. She was extremely excited to go on this date and her enthusiasm carried on as she bounced to her apartment door and inside. Placing her keys on the counter by the door, she went to her closet to pick out the best outfit. Looking at the array of clothing, she picked out a few and sent them to her co-stars/best friends for their opinions. Unfortunately, they both had different ideas as to what she should wear that night.

Sav: go for something cute and conservative! Southern boys like all American girls!

Tori: go for something a little sexy Cali girl. Like I’m a good girl but I’m also capable of being bad too

Sav: for the first date? Idk...

Tori: Sav, do you really think Owen is only about them all American girls? He was the one talking about how peaches were a brilliant emojis for butts

Sav: point taken.

Sav: go for something that best represents you!

Jade: a paper bag?

Tori: really?

Tori: you are more than just a paper bag J

Sav: we gotta go, Kenny’s calling places. I’m sure what you’ll pick will be fine! Send us a pic!

Jade frowned that her friends couldn’t chat longer to help her, but she knew she had to do this on her own. After filing through clothing, she finally found something she liked but noticed that she had spent an hour picking an outfit. Owen would be by in two hours, meaning that she had to speed up her process if she didn’t want to feel rushed!

 She slipped stepping into the tub to take a shower, smashing her elbow on the towel bar. She quickly tried to rub the pain as she cursed under her breath. She had no time to be clumsy! She started her shower up and gracefully hopped in this time, hoping to avoid any further injury. After doing her daily hygiene routine, she applied the hair mask and wrapped it up in a shower cap, applying her face mask right after. She noticed that her legs felt the slightest bit fuzzy and cursed herself for not shaving in the shower. Quickly glazing at her phone for the time, she slathered on shaving cream and attempted to shave her leg using her bathroom counter, which was a mistake. She slipped, nicking her leg on the way down, bumping her head against the wall too.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, not a big deal Jade” she comforted herself. “Stick a Band-Aid on it and just wear jeans!”

She began to wash out the hair and facemask, making a mental note to patch herself up after. As she patted her face dry, she opened the medicine cabinet to grab a Band-Aid, when the lights shut off. Fumbling around for her phone, she quickly turned on the flashlight to find a Band-Aid and her bathrobe. Slipping on the robe, she made her way to the apartment breaker. Nothing had tripped on the breaker panel, but the power in her suite was completely shut off.

“That’s fine! You’ll just have to go with your natural curls instead of spicing things up with a straightener!” she could already feel the nauseous and claustrophobic feeling in her chest creep up on her, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Now was not a good time for her to have an anxiety attack. She had an hour and fifteen minutes before Owen came. Plenty of time... right?

Making her way over to her closet, she began to look for another outfit that would look good with the jeans that she had picked out. She tried on top after top, but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving a huff in frustration, she sat on the bed to take a deep breath. She had to get going if she was going to have enough time to do her makeup, but it seemed like life had other plans. All of a sudden, the fire alarm in the complex went off, indicating that everyone was being asked to evacuate. She jumped at the noise and quickly threw on a sweater, grabbing her passport, wallet, documents and phone before exiting the building with the other residents. 

It turned out to be a fire drill that was scheduled to happen last week, but Jade had completely forgotten about it. They all had to stand outside while the fire marshal cleared the building and checking the safety of it. By the time Jade had made her way back into the building and up to her suite, she had 30 minutes before Owen came over. She hated the outfit she was wearing, her hair was a mess due to the wind outside and she had no makeup on!

The feeling in her chest increased gradually as she rushed around the house, doing her best to multitask. The power came back on when she entered the suite, so she tried straightening her hair as the curls were a mess, but she underestimated her multitasking skills. She burnt herself multiple times as she tried to do her makeup and hair at the same time. It didn’t help that the bottom half of her hair was straight and the bottom half wasn’t, and her eyeliner was uneven. Looking at herself in the mirror stressed her out even more, so she washed her face and decided to restart. The alarm on her phone notified her that Owen would be at the door in 5 minutes, and that’s when everything bubbled over. Looking at her messy face, half done hair, wet shirt and jeans, she sniffled until the tears welled over. She sank to the bathroom floor feeling like an idiot. No normal person would be this upset over their appearance, so why was she? Would Owen think she was weird because of this? Would he even want to go out with her? Her breathing increased and she started to feel her ensuite close in on her, signaling a full blown anxiety attack.

Jade wasn’t comfortable talking about her anxiety. Her parents often made her feel like she was overreacting or seeking attention whenever they happened, but they never understood that if Jade had the choice, these things wouldn’t get to her. This feeling that you need to escape, but you don’t have the energy so you’re just a buzzing ball sitting in a deep dark hole. She would often cry during her attacks, ashamed that she lost control and ashamed that she got to this place. Her friends would tell her to seek professional help for it, but she waved them off knowing that if she did see someone, it would make things worse between her and her parents. She loved them a lot and often sought for their approval, and doing this would work against the hard work she put in to make them proud.

“Jade?...unlocked...hope that’s okay?... helloo?....dead?.... Jade?”

“Jade? Hey... Hey you’re okay...”

“Jade? It’s Owen.”

“Squeeze my hand if you hear me”

“Okay good. I want you to breathe with me”

“You’re doing great”

“That’s it”

“Breathe in for five, out for five”

“In five”

“Out five”

The murkiness of the voice became clearer and clearer as she regained control of her breathing. She began to feel a warmth enveloping her and holding her firmly. She wasn’t in the bathroom anymore but rather on the sofa in her living room with the balcony door open, letting in a cool breeze. 

“Jade?” She focused her attention on the blonde boy who sat beside her, his arm currently wrapped around her and the other holding her hand. “Hey” his smile was warm and understanding, but Jade couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. Seeing this, Owen knew immediately what was happening. Before the apology left her lips, Owen had already began to speak.

 “You have nothing to apologize for... Is this the first time?” She bowed her head sadly, wiping away the tears and shaking her head no. In this moment, she felt like a little kid getting into trouble, bracing herself for the disappointment she caused.

“Listen, I know how you feel. Your anxiety? Your panic? I feel it every day. You don’t have to be ashamed in front of me. Hell, you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed in front of anyone. Everyone goes through this right? Well obviously, in their own ways and not like you and me, but I think you get the point” his rant elicited a small chuckle from the girl. “Want to talk about it?”

Jade nodded her head, feeling comfortable around him. She recounted her struggles since getting home to the razor to the power to the fire drill up until their current moment. Owen was silent and attentive the entire time, hanging on to every word that came from her mouth.

“I mean, I’m flattered that you put in all this work to go on a date with me, but seriously, and I’m not saying this to like get on your good side or anything, but you don’t need all the makeup and stuff. You’re pretty pretty on your own” she smiled at his comment, grateful for the compliment as it made her feel better.

“Thanks, I’m sorry I ruined our date” he scoffed and shook his head, moving to the kitchen counter picking up the flowers he had brought for her.

“I was going to give these to you at the door, but seeing as the plans have changed, you should probably take them and put them in some water?” she blushed at the gesture and took them gratefully from him. As she puttered around the kitchen for some sort of vase, he tapped away on his phone. “Do you like pizza?”

“Owen, I LOVE pizza” he grinned back at her and tapped a couple more times on his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing date night to us.” he replied simply, locking his screen and plopping down on the couch, clicking through the apps on the TV. “Alright, so you’re gonna show me your favorite musical and I will show you mine”

Jade thought that in order to make a good impression on a first date, you had to look perfect. Owen that night helped her see that when two people like each other, Pizza and Musicals are all you need on a first date.

[sickcyclist]

This is the story of my day. It actually starts yesterday, when a heaven-sent rain swept in and cleared the smoke and cooled the air and tamped down the dust on the trails. I went on a bike ride because days like that are a gift. I have exercise-induced hypoxemia, which basically means that my oxygen drops when I exercise for reasons that we still don’t understand. Exercising with oxygen helps, but I still drop into the mid-80s. I knew I was too sick to ride and that doing so would make me much more sick, but I needed it for my mind so I was willing to sacrifice my body.

So that’s the first lesson of being sick. Everyone tells you that you have to be active and it will make things better and all you have to do is just push yourself hard enough. We’ve internalized this message to the point that many people believe sick people could get better if they just PUSHED. But that’s not always true. Sometimes pushing makes you worse. Sometimes it makes you much, much worse. And that can be true even if being active and pushing hard is something you love so much that it feels like it’s core to who you are.

I knew I would have to sleep for 12+ hours to make up for the ride, and I knew that I would have bad oxygen saturation stats because of it. And since I don’t have a real job, it should be easy to just take a lazy day (or week, or month) and get better, right? But actually I do have a real job and that job is to keep myself alive. It’s the job of a lot of us who are chronically ill, and it’s not a profession I would recommend. It’s not fun and it’s not rewarding and no one admires you for it and you’re not asked to speak to 5th graders on career day and you rarely get to move on to a newer, more interesting project.

Here’s what this particular day at work looked like for me. I woke up to a voicemail saying that my pulmonology appointment for Friday had been cancelled. I’ve been waiting to see a pulmonologist since March and was supposed to have an appointment weeks ago, but that was cancelled because the doctor quit two days beforehand. The other doctor in town couldn’t see me until the end of October, so I looked for a doctor in a bigger town hundreds of miles away. She comes highly recommended and in a way I’m happy because I strongly prefer female doctors, but for whatever reason she had to “clear her morning.” My new appointment is five weeks from now. I got off the phone and sobbed, which is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work. I probably could have toughed it up and avoided crying if I hadn’t worn myself down so much biking yesterday, but such is life.

I emailed my primary care provider asking for a note saying I could travel with my portable oxygen concentrator. I was supposed to get this letter from my pulmonologist, but now I won’t have a pulmonologist before I travel. The letter has to say that I use oxygen for sleep and activity, but it also has to specify that I won’t use oxygen on the plane. Which is a little funny because airplanes have extremely powerful oxygen-producing systems for emergencies, but they don’t like people who need oxygen because they don’t like the risk that comes with having sick people on board (think emergency landings). So people who need oxygen all the time need their own oxygen concentrator and battery power for the equivalent of 1.5x the time they will be in the air. I’m going on an 8-hour flight and it would cost about $400 to get strong enough batteries for that length. So I need them to let me carry my machine, which has lithium ion batteries that are otherwise prohibited. But in order to carry my machine I need to prove that I won’t be needing it.

I have a great primary care provider. I knew she would write the note. Easy peasy.

My next voicemail was from the specialty pharmacy that my insurance provider uses for certain drugs. I am allergic to a hormone all women produce as part of the menstrual cycle. This allergy is so severe that it has been responsible for 5 miscarriages, and it also means that I’m more miserable than usual for half the month. The good news is that all you have to do to stop it is take out your ovaries, but when you do that you go into full menopause. Which is not desirable because it increases your risk of cancer and osteoporosis and just overall mortality. Like not even from one thing. Just people who go into menopause early die early from all causes and we don’t know why.

That gives you some perspective on what the benefits have to look like in order for the cost-benefit analysis to still auger in favor of ovary removal. But since it is such a serious choice, you have to be sure. And the way you make sure is to stop your ovaries from working with a drug. The drug has hideous short and long term side effects, so if you feel better while taking it, that’s a pretty strong sign that an oophorectomy is the choice for you.

Approval for me to receive this particular drug was in limbo because the provider accidentally entered the wrong diagnosis. I have, as you can imagine, a lot of diagnoses. Entering the wrong diagnosis in this case was particularly funny because I’ve spent the last 6 months fighting with Blue Cross to get an expensive medicine that helps with my allergies. This medicine (Xolair) is approved for chronic urticaria (hives). It is not approved for progesterone hypersensitivity. I have both, which means I itch a lot for two weeks of the month and itch so much that I want to peel my skin off for two weeks of the month. Blue Cross argued that I wanted the drug for progesterone hypersensitivity. No medical provider said that, but it was the diagnosis they could use to deny the drug. Xolair costs $4000 a month. At that price it’s worth it to them to grind people down and hope they give up. It took four appeals and my lawyer (husband) to get the drug approved because I do indeed have chronic urticaria. It’s worked wonders for me, especially being allergic to the sun. You have no idea how easy it is to descend into madness when you are itchy all the time.

I went over all this with my new OB. I explained that, while the allergy shot solved the itching, it didn’t fix any of my systemic problems, which is why I was still interested in removing my ovaries. And because the conversation focused on how this ovary-suppressing drug (Lupron) specifically wasn’t for urticaria, it’s perhaps not surprising that she accidentally listed urticaria as the reason for the prescription. It’s like when you’re afraid you’ll mispronounce someone’s name. You tell yourself, “Say Kee-a, not Ky-a,” so many times that you’re basically guaranteed to call the person Ky-a.

So my ovary medicine was denied, of course, but I contacted my doctor’s office last week explaining the problem and they were very quick to apologize and resubmit. I returned the call from the specialty pharmacy but apparently they had just wanted to let me know that they were sorry for the delay. It was very polite of them but maybe didn’t require a phone call.

Then I got an email from Blue Cross Blue Shield. I logged in to read that coverage had again been denied (no reason stated) and that if I wanted to appeal the decision I would have to appeal through their specialty pharmacy. They gave me the name and number. Of a different specialty pharmacy than the one I had been dealing with for the past month. The one that I had already wrangled account numbers and diagnosis codes and special customer service phone lines out of. I typed up a polite response inquiring why I need to change pharmacies. And then I cried, but only just a little this time.

Then I called Walgreen’s because my medication for muscle spasms had been delayed and I received a note saying the pharmacist needed to speak to me. I am hypermobile so my connective tissue is just a little too bendy. My joints slip in and out all the time and my muscles have to overwork to hold my body together. Frequently they overwork so much that they lock up. This happens much more frequently in the progesterone-dominant phase of my cycle. Physical therapy is the best treatment, but sometimes I need muscles relaxants before I can even start physical therapy.

The man I spoke to at Walgreen’s told me I didn’t have a prescription for that drug. Then he told me I had a prescription but it had expired in March of 2020. I knew that wasn’t true because I hadn’t used it for years but had to start again when I got COVID. So I had no prescription in March of 2020 but I definitely did in March of 2021. No big deal. Just a simple computer error. Totally understandable in a pandemic, and I knew my doctor would refill it anyway. But he apparently felt that it was a big deal and wouldn’t submit the refill to my provider. I have no idea why. Maybe he thought I was engaged in drug-seeking behavior. Or maybe he was having a bad day. But he wouldn’t submit the refill. I hung up the phone and screamed. Loudly. Which really is not a good thing to do when your lungs don’t work.

Murry came up and rubbed the spasm out of my shoulder and listened to me vent and offered to be my medical power of attorney so he could deal with these people for me. But he’s the one with the real job that earns real money and when I’m sick he also cooks and cleans and does the shopping and walks the dogs. I may not be any good at the shitty job I had, but there’s no way I’m going to make him do it.

I switched tactics and chatted with someone through the Walgreen’s app. He was lovely and had no problem submitting my prescription for a refill. Easy peasy.

My final task for the day was calling to find out about the status of my CPAP prescription. I don’t have sleep apnea but while I’m asleep my breathing does slow down significantly enough that my oxygen drops (hypopnea). I need a special CPAP that adjust the pressure to my breathing, but it will get me off of oxygen at night. I’m very excited for it.

My insurance does not require prior authorization for CPAP prescriptions. However, St. Pete’s has its own prior authorization department that I guess makes sure you are not lying about not needing prior authorization? This department is, apparently, understaffed. I called my oxygen “rep” to find out how it was going. She very kindly bypassed the prior authorization department and called Blue Cross directly. Blue Cross informed her, as had I, that a prior authorization was not necessary. She could officially get me a CPAP.

Except that there is a national CPAP shortage. So she will try her best to get me one as soon as they get more. Hopefully this month. Even the rare, wonderful people who try to help you are sometimes as helpless as you.

I didn’t cry this time. Crying doesn’t fix anything and I can’t risk losing more oxygen. So I turned to writing therapy instead.

This was a bad day at work, but there are rarely good ones. It sucks to be sick, but I’m smart, articulate, overly educated, wealthy, and white. It could suck so, so much more. Someday I’ll turn all of this knowledge that I never wanted into something that helps people other than myself. Until then maybe someone will read this and know they are not alone. If being sick is your job, I see you. I would give you a hug—or a bonus!—if I could.

[urfangirl18]

As promised here is the first chapter of my fan fiction 💜

1. One Fateful Meeting

'why did it take you so long to pick up Mei-ah'

I laughed at the pouting face of my best friend Jiwoo as she artlessly sat down on the seat in front of me looking as gorgeous as ever in her off white lacy dress that she paired off with open toed sandals and a black jacket. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and she smiled at me graciously as I pushed the warm cup of caramel latte towards her.

'mian Jiwoo-ah I had to rush a couple of things at the office but I'm here now.'

I said as I took a sip of my hot tea grateful to be inside this cafe while looking at the soft pitter patter of raindrops on the window. It gave me peace amidst my ever busy life in Seoul.

'have you heard?' she asked as she tapped my hand on the table and pointed at my open macbook.

'my laptop? what about it?'

'for someone who graduated with honors in 4 courses way back in college how can you be such a pabo sometimes?'

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders at her 'I have no clue...soo spit it out Jiwoo-ah and no I am not dating your dongsaeng or any of your friends...please.'

She pouted while shaking her head 'why not?? it's been so long since you dated someone...who was he again?'

I flinched at the reminder of that awful date and shook my head as I motioned for her to continue with her news and what made her point at my laptop.

I was currently checking the website I was working on as much as my eyes were wanting to rest from reading codes after codes that I dealt with in the office earlier.

'I have awesome news from your imaginary boyfriend...' she said with a smile 'open google please and type his name.'

'imaginary boyfriend my ass' I mumbled knowing that I was blushing like mad at that moment. 'what about Satoh-san?'

She grinned at me while typing something on my laptop. She frowned a bit as she saw that I was working and smiled again as she found what she was looking for looking obviously pleased with herself...should I tell her that she looks a bit like a Cheshire Cat?

'clear your schedule this Friday until Sunday...you my gorgeous chingu will be modeling for my clothing brand with Takeru Satoh.'

'oh sure...'

I nodded clearly not believing a word she said for how can she and the management secure a modeling contract with the ever busy Takeru Satoh.

'no shit Jiwoo!!!' I said as I sucked my breath at what I was reading 'how the hell did Yuna and Georgie manage to snag this?!!'

I wanted to scream for joy but since we were inside a cafe all I managed to do was grasp for my bestfriend's hand in support.

Indeed the management and Jiwoo finally snagged a contract with the Takeru Satoh, the famous Japanese star.  My mind was reeling with questions as I was reading the news about it. It happened this morning while I was swamped with work and couldn't check my phone.

'that's why I was calling you!! You're perfect for this Mei-ah and I know you wouldn't want to miss being in the same set with your one and only love.'

'how did we afford him? This man is worth thousands no millions when it comes to a modeling contract. There is absolutely no way we can afford this...how do we get that investment back?'

Jiwoo grinned at me and shook her head in disbelief. It was then I forgot...she can very well afford to get even the highest paid actor in Hollywood for who am I kidding? Even without the help of  her influential and very affluent family my bestfriend owns one of the most successful fashion boutiques in Asia and Europe.

'I can't believe this...' I muttered 'I don't think I can model for this...maybe hire a professional for this Jiwoo...it's too huge of an investment if I don't pull this off.'

'ohh no!! you are not backing out of this Jeon Mei Lin. There is no way I am letting you say no! His agency wanted you to be his partner for this shoot.'

I would have fainted right at that very moment when I heard what she said.

'his agency? why?? we have plenty of models...why me? I only work part time.'

'they were mesmerised by your beauty and charm as simple as that and we know you're a perfect fit for their star as well.'

she whispered as she slowly took my glassess off and untied my bun. I squinted as I tried to get my eyeglasses back from her but knowing my bestfriend she won't give them back unless she has her way.

'for how long will you keep hiding yourself behind these glasses Mei? How long will you be depriving the world of your beauty?'

I rolled my eyes at her compliment and sighed...if only I can tell her. If only I can tell her the reason why I choose to hide my eyes beneath my glasses then maybe instead of convincing me to model along with the man of my dreams she would be helping me look for a husband so my family could leave me be and we could all live in peace.

Sadly all I can do was keep my mouth shut and nodded at the offer given to me. No one can know and no one must know. It's safer that way.

'alright I'll do it...I'll take my leave on Friday and Monday. Anything for Satoh-san and your boutique.'

I told her with a smile to which she jumped up from off her seat and gave me a bone crushing hug. For a tiny thing Jung Ji Woo sure can hug...makes me wonder where she got her strength from.

'kamasahamnida Mei-ah!! Don't worry everything is taken cared of all you need is to relax and look all pretty on Friday.' she then smiled and added 'should I accidentally book a hotel room for the both of you?'

I groaned and shook my head at what she was planning. I doubt anything can happen if she does that. This man whose pictures has adorned my phone for as long as I started being his fan would never notice me. He was just way out of my league. He travels the same circles as Jiwoo and her family or my cousin's also very affluent family. I didn't belong there...or should I say I don't even belong in this world. I was made for something else and I have been trying my best to not think about it.

I was destined for something else and the longer I dilly dally the more my head starts to pound. Is it too much to want what other girls have?

I hid my sadness in my cup of tea as I found Jiwoo smiling while looking at her phone talking to her fiancée no doubt. Whereas my single ass was in dire need of a fucking date but then again with the hideous glasses I wear I doubt anyone would want me.

*Satoh's POV*

'your flight for Seoul is on Thursday night Takeru-san and here is your schedule during your stay there.'

I smiled in gratitude at my assistant Takei-san who handed me an ipad as I took a break from work. It was a warm day in Kyoto and I was just finishing up the last few takes of a modeling stint for Versace and I was looking forward to a cold drink.

I sat on my chair inside the cool shade of the villa we were in and stretched my back. It was a long day but I had fun. Unbeknownst to everyone I was not just into acting or modeling though my family approved of it and allowed me to pursue what I love provided I don't forget to help run the business empire that our family has.

The money and the power my family has gave me the freedom to do whatever I love but it doesn't mean I don't work hard for it. My success wasn't handed to me on a golden platter I worked thrice as hard to get to where I am and to amass whatever success I hold

After that modeling stint with a very famous fashion line in Seoul I would finally get some much needed rest and to check on some of my businesses in Korea including my new baby which was a game and software development company which is now doing exceptionally well in both Korea and Japan. It was also starting to gain recognition in the US as well.

Personally I want to congratulate one of my lead game and software developer there who produced a game that has now over millions of downloads and users all over the globe. I also want to discuss another software app that I have in mind with him.

Yes I was all about business but maybe just maybe I may get a chance to rest a little bit when I get to Seoul.

'and the management of Meijiwoo agreed to our request. The shoot will be held privately and your partner is someone they deeply trust.'

I nodded as I checked the ipad and the profile of the model I will be working with. Looks like I would be having fun with this shoot. I smiled as I checked the portfolio they have sent...the girl in the photos could surely be a professional model in Seoul for she has the beauty a master artist would want to paint. She wasn't overly beautiful like the rest of the girls I had worked with or even the women I dated but there was something very alluring about her. It was then I saw her eyes. They were a brilliant shade of blue and the more I look at them the more beautiful they were getting.

'what's her name? is she a foreigner?'

I asked Takei-san to which he shook his head and said.

'she's korean, that's what the management told us but I can get some more information about Mei, Mei-san.'

So this beauty is named Mei...looks like my trip to Korea is getting more interesting and Friday couldn't come any sooner.

I smiled as I continued checking her portfolio most of the modeling she has done was for Meijiwoo and some korean make up brands. She was a beauty and for sure her agency wouldn't find it difficult to market her abroad. With her enchanting blue eyes this girl could conquer to world and it made me wonder why doesn't she have any other works than in Korea it was a shame to not let the world know of this beauty.

'Takei-san make sure to find out who her manager is maybe we can arrange a deal with them for a contract. Her beauty shouldn't be hidden.'

I said as I handed him the ipad and closed my eyes...looks like I have another business in mind. My parents would be so pleased that in whatever I do I always put business first forgetting myself sometimes.

I sighed and got a drink from the table and walked towards the window admiring the zen like beauty of the garden outside. The glass of whisky in my hand mocking me. I am now at the top of my game, of my career. I have achieved everything that I could ever want but why do I feel hollow inside?

Amidst the fortune I have from all the years of hard work why do I feel lonely everytime I go home? It's as if the more I surround myself with luxury the more empty I become.

'I probably just need to get laid...'

I muttered as I took my phone and checked who among my female friends are free and mentally reminding myself to buy her a gift as a token of my gratitude. It was always like this...after hours of pleasure I still feel so damn empty inside.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 5 - In Which Jack Attempts to Become a Semi-Respectable Member of Polite Society and Charles Succeeds in Becoming a Completely Disreputable Trophy Boyfriend

Max and Mr. Scott – probably mostly Mr. Scott, who still has his finger on the pulse of London real estate in a way that's almost frighteningly omniscient - somehow land Jack and company a lovely house that's been subjected to a series of absolutely atrocious renovations and sat empty since the late nineties. So Charles and Anne spend the first few weeks of laying low pulling out all of the hideous carpeting and knocking down the terrible wood paneling – and in one case, an entire (non load-bearing) wall, which they attack with sledge hammers and far, far too much glee. And Mary, bless her, spends the week sweeping and scrubbing and peeling wall paper. Until the house sits an empty shell, stripped down to the stately bones that lay beneath the shag carpeting and twee plasterwork.

Jack spends his weeks learning to play tennis.

He hadn't had much chance to learn growing up, being an impoverished guttersnipe and all, so he's got a lot of ground to catch up. Because, see, the counselor – the one who'd sided with the Spanish over Lord Hamilton, allowing for his final downfall, the one who controls all of London's planning permission, the one Max needs an in with. He absolutely adores tennis.

He adores it with all the fervor of a middle class man who'd seen it as the gentleman's game growing up. And now that he's a gentleman – by wealth and importance, if not by birth, which still stings him, bitterly, and is the reason for his overcompensation – then by God, he's going to play tennis.

And since Jack's first job from Max is to get the counselor on side, he's got to learn to play tennis too. Well enough that whatever skill level the counselor actually has, Jack can play to it, keep the games close. Just barely beat the counselor or just barely lose, but keep it close enough that he keeps coming back for more. Which takes considerably more skill than simply learning the game and playing to the best of his ability.

So Jack practices and practices and practices, all with the help of a draconian ex-professional instructor Max found for him at a mid-level club nowhere near where the counselor plays for the entire month his house is torn down around his ears.

Meanwhile, in the real world, Eleanor and Woodes Rogers's world is coming down around their ears as well. Anne pays Max enough visits that she's always flush with the latest gossip – the sort of thing that goes beyond the polite, antiseptic description that has been in the papers. And the long and short of it is that Woodes Rogers is ruined. Fired from his job, disowned from his family, and, most importantly, the rich person version of penniless.

So he just doesn't have any resources to come after them, if he even suspected anything. And he'll be lucky if he doesn't end up in jail because apparently Eleanor's creative approach to accounting has been helping him evade taxes for a good long while as well. And now that he's too poor to be protected – and his reputation too tarnished – he's looking at the possibility of a five stretch.

Eleanor will probably avoid seeing the inside of a cell, mores the pity. She's too cunning to be taken down with her husband. But her social capital is destroyed, along with a good portion of her money, used to bail out Woodes Rogers with the various criminal elements he was indebted to. And with this new revelation of her less than legal exploits, it means that she's been let go from her position as well – not because she'd done anything they hadn't asked her to do for them, of course. But because they can't bear to have even a whiff of scandal or people might stop trusting in the sanctity of the British financial system. And we can't be having that.

At any rate, all of this means that Jack is able to move in the open again, which is good because he needs to start establishing himself as a quasi-legitimate member of polite society sooner rather than later. So that second month, in addition to playing tennis, Jack starts an Instagram account detailing the renovations on his house.

There's pictures of Jack choosing furniture and wallpaper and fabric swatches and rugs. There's pictures of the interior of the house, featuring Anne as Jack's PA, scowling and holding a clipboard menacingly. And Charles appears frequently as Jack's muse/boytoy, posed artfully shirtless and oiled up and muscular.

Mary, as his new social media manager, has had a lot of good ideas about how to sell Jack as a flirty and flighty and nearly terminally stupid fashion designer and she and Jack and Max have worked hard to make him appear harmless. Someone with money and influence but who was too wrapped up in pretty clothes and pretty boys to ever use it. Someone who could approach the counselor – and offer him valuable access into the upper echelons of society – without appearing threatening to him like Lord Hamilton had been.

And the bitch of it is is that it works.

Jack applies for and gets a membership to the councilor's exclusive health club – and the approval committee explicitly comments on the settee he'd had reupholstered in yellow silk for the upstairs sitting room in his induction hearing, so at least someone's looking at his Instagram. And he begins playing tennis there, familiarizing himself with the layout and the staff and the other patrons. So he can just ever so coincidentally grab the court opposite Councilor Featherstone during his weekly Saturday morning game.

They don't talk much during the game itself, but afterwards. Afterwards...

There's the usual handshakes and good games and shows of good sportsmanship from both sides. Jack had just narrowly, ever so narrowly, eked out a victory. But the councilor had more than made him work for it.

So Jack gets invited to a rematch next week – a rematch he'll make sure the councilor wins, just as narrowly. Because you've got to leave them wanting. You've got to leave them hungry for it. And they won't be if they win the first time. But they'll give up if they don't win the second and third. So you've got to walk that fine line of wins and losses until the whole thing's a habit and they couldn't walk away even if they wanted to.

That's what made Jack such a success as a pusher – not his product, but his approach. His way of knowing people. And the councilor is so very eager to be known.

Certainly he starts off with polite inquiries into how Jack's settling into London. Questions about the house and the neighborhood and the progress of the renovation.

But Jack is quick to talk about how difficult he's finding London to navigate, compared to the Bahamas, where they've decided he'll be from. How stand-offish people can be. How it feels like they snub him every time they hear him speak, or they find out that he doesn't know so-and-so from such-and-such school.

Oh, he doesn't come out and complain about it or anything. Just hints at it. Plants little seeds for Counselor Featherstone's own complaints to blossom forth.

And he has complaints aplenty. How it's such an Old School Chums crowd. How many incompetent idiots run various departments based on legacy rather than any actual ability. How put upon Featherstone is by all of them. How they all ask him for favors and expect to give nothing in return – because he should be overjoyed they're even deigning to talk to him and why wouldn't he want to do things for them, everyone wants to do things for them.

And Jack makes the appropriate noises of understanding and commiseration without actually volunteering very much about himself. Because that's the other half of the sell. Make the mark think that you're their friend. That they know you as well as they know themselves so they'll spill all the dark – or in Featherstone's case, mildly frustrated – parts of their soul. Make yourself their confidant, the one they can always turn to, because you think just alike on all the important points. So if you ever disagree, well, it must be my dear friend Jack in the right, he would never steer me wrong.

Of course, you can't do it all at once. It has to be done slowly and carefully, so that the mark never cottons on. But, as born out by Jack shaking Councilor Featherstone's sweaty hand and promising same time next week, he's certainly made a start on it. So that ought to make Max happy.

Jack wipes the sweat from his brow with an obscenely high threadcount towel provided by the club and goes off to assess Charles's progress on the other half of Max's request. Because while Jack has been honing his tennis game and scoping out the club, Charles has been there as well, spending mornings in the gym and afternoons sunbathing by the pool in the smallest bathing suit they'll allow him to wear. Which is quite small indeed. And it's therefore no surprise that Charles has accrued rather a crowd of rich bored socialites around his little flotilla of deck chairs, drawn like moths to a sexy, sexy flame.

Charles just dangerous enough to be interesting. But safe, because he's taken and (presumably) gay. Just a sexy backdrop to their boring, catty lives. Able to blend right into the scenery.

Meanwhile, Charles listens to - and dutifully recounts to Max – all the idle gossip he becomes privy to due to his position as living ornament. Because, to Max, information is worth its weight in gold. And you wouldn't believe what kind of things you can overhear simply by being ignorable.

Plus, Jack thinks as he sets his bag down next to Charles's deck chair and he looks up at Jack from behind his knock-off Coach sunglasses, Charles is having far, far too much fun playing Jack's boyfriend.

As evidenced by him sprawling his thighs even more obscenely open and practically purring, “Hello, darling.”

An obscene mockery of Jack's own favored greeting. And a slight that will not stand.

Jack kneels between Charles's spread legs. “Hello yourself, Chaz.” Jack tilts his chin up for a brief peck on the lips. “Have a good day, dear?”

Charles further escalates things by pulling Jack down onto his lap and nuzzling against his ear. “Better now that you're here, darling.”

And Jack's going to have to do something drastic if Charles keeps this shit up.

But before Jack can retaliate, escalate, they're interrupted by tittering laughter.

“Aren't they just the cutest?” one of the rich ladies coos.

There's general agreement amongst the ladies. “And so fashionable,” one of them says, giving Jack's tennis outfit a once-over.

“Perks of the job darling,” Jack says lightly.

And then one of them – the leader, if the obscene amount of designer and diamonds she's wearing – says, “You both simply must come to my bachelorette party.” She studies her nails faux casually. “It's going to be a real rager.”

This is exactly the kind of thing Charles has been waiting for since Max assigned him this stupid job. And getting on Max's good side is infinitely preferable to even her neutral regard. So Charles'll be damned if he lets it slip through his fingers  – even if he has to play some boring bitch's gay best friend for a whole night.

He tips his fruity umbrella drink in her direction and looks at her over the salted rim. “Sounds like my kind of party.”

Jack resigns himself to a night of drunken socialites vomiting in the back of a limo. “We'll be there, darling. Never fear.”

It'll be an opportunity to move some blow, if nothing else.

[toswallowastar]

The Wind is a Running Man

Pretty much just angst. Kinda an au? This is my first fic so please be nice. Idk why the format is so wack. I don’t know anything about crime stuff so just take it with a grain of salt.

Word count: no idea. Long

Description: A kinda modern look at Zuko’s childhood and the events that lead up to his eventual escape.

Blink and you’ll miss it Maiko

WARNINGS: graphic depictions of child abuse and implied character death.

The thunder was loud. Too loud. It almost covered up the screaming match between his father and mother. Zuko couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it didn't sound good.

“Zuzu can I sleep with you?” He looked over at his sister who was holding her blanket and stuffed animal at the frame of his doorway. She looked so small and scared. Nothing like her usual demeanor. “Sure, Zula.” She climbed up his enormous bed and hid away in his arms. “Do you think Mom will be okay? Will dad hurt her?” Zuko looked over at her. She had tears trailing down her eyes. “Everything will be okay. Mom is strong and can hold her own.” Her bottom lip wobbled as she looked up at him. “Do you think he will hurt us?” She trailed the line of stitches that traveled down his shoulder. A wound his father had given to him just last week. He held her tight. “I won't let anything happen to you. No matter what happens, I’ll always be right here.”

In the early dawn Zuko woke up to their mother humming and stroking his hair. “Good morning my love.” He looked up at her to see her golden eyes shining with unshed tears. He scanned her over to see any blossoming bruises, but to his relief, he didn't see any.

”I need to show you something.” She led him down the corridors, through the kitchen, into the library, and off to a side door, he didn't even know existed. Inside was a forest of plants from sunflowers to nightshade. He knew his mother loved plants, for she taught him extensively on them, but he had never known about any of this.

”Zuko, I need you to listen to me.” He looked up at her to see a worried frown written over her face. ”Soon I will not be here to protect you. You will need to do it yourself.” She broke off an Aloe Vera leaf, some leaves of lemon balm, and lavender. She put her ingredients in a stone mortar and ground it with a pestle until it was a green puree. ”This is how I make our healing balm. You can apply it to cuts, burns, bruises, or scars.”

She walked over to the other side of the greenhouse. They stopped at a plant that had wrapped itself around the wooden table's legs. At the opening of the leaves were tiny red berries. Zuko knew exactly what this one was: Abrus precatorius. Also known as Rosary Peas. It could kill a human within days if ingested. It mimicked liver failure and was untraceable. His mother had taught him that much.

She reached behind her hair and unclasped her locket. Plucking a rosary pea she placed it inside of the metal heart that held a picture of her mother and father. ”There will come a time when you will need to use this.” She placed the locket in his open palm. ”Cut open the seed, then squeeze it into a cup of tea. Add lemon juice to slow the poison so you can make your escape undetected.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Most importantly, you will need to cover your tracks. Get rid of any evidence.” Zuko looked up at his mother. He had never seen this side of her. Her gentle nature hid a warrior like strength. It reminded him of something she once said, “That’s what moms are like. If you hurt their babies, they're going to bite you back!”

Their Mom vanished the next night and so did the plants. A day and a half later their grandfather died peacefully in his sleep. Zuko found a note addressed to him and Azula telling them how much she loved them. She said everything she had ever done was for them. As hurt as Zuko was, he couldn't find it in him to be angry at her. She did what she had to do. And now, she was free.

After that, Azula was sent to a boarding school where she would be taught to be ruthless and cunning just like their father. Zuko on the other hand was locked away in the estate. He was not allowed to even go outside without a guard present. Sometimes he was granted visits from his uncle if he had an especially good week with his tutors, but that was before he left the company to work for a tea shop in Ba Sing Se. At first, Zuko did his best to gain his father’s love and acceptance. He tried to become just like him. Even after four broken bones, fifty-two stitches, and countless scars littered over his body, he still wanted to please him. But things changed two months ago. His father had some of his council members over for dinner. When they started talking business Zuko saw this as his chance to earn his father's love. He exclaimed that one of their idea would never work. That it was wrong and immoral and would leave thousands to die. He looked over at his father for some kind of approval, but all he saw was rage.

When the council members left, all wrath that had been stored in Ozai towards his son was released. He grabbed Zuko by the collar and held one side of his face in the roaring fire-place. “Please, father. I only had your best interest at heart!” The boy cried. “You will learn respect and suffering will be your teacher.” No matter how much Zuko screamed and cried Ozai would not relent until the boy fell limp in his grasp. The night ended with a thirteen year old boy bloodied and burned laying on the floor completely motionless.

Three weeks later Zuko woke up with a bandage covering half of his face. At first, he couldn't quite remember what had happened to him. He slipped out of his bed and placed himself in front of the mirror. He peeled back the bandage to reveal a hideous burn stretching from his left eye to his shriveled ear. Flashes of flames licking his face and a firm grasp around his neck came flooding in his memories. He choked a sob. Reaching in his dresser drawer he grabbed the salve his mother taught him to make and carefully applied it to the wound. He winced as the cool ointment touched his face. Covering the burn back up, Zuko looked over at the locket his mother had given him so many years ago. He thought of what she had told him, “There will come a time when you will need to use this.”

His mother had unbound herself and joined the freedom of the wind. Perhaps it was time he let go of his burdens too.

A month later, he had his affairs in order. A plan that would have made even his mother proud. Tonight there would be a party at the estate. Every important person in the city would be attending. Zuko looked out his bedroom window to see the limousines pulling up to the residence. He remembered what his father had told him, “Say nothing and stay out of sight.” He could hear the band and the chattering of people as they walked in. He looked to see Mai getting out of the car. Her hair in the usual half up half down style with a red dress and lip. She looked breathtaking as usual. He waited in his room until he heard the voices die down. After he was positive everyone had left, he made his way down stairs. He had intentionally been avoiding any staff member from the estate for weeks now, he couldn't blow it just as he was reaching the finish line. He needed to make sure there would be no suspicious activity before they draw the conclusion of a death with natural causes.

He made his way to the kitchen and prepared a cup of tea. He chose Jasmine and let it steep into the pot until ready to serve. Picking up a cup for himself and his father, he remembered what his mother had told him, “Cut open the seed, then squeeze it into a cup of tea. Add lemon juice to slow the poison so you can make your escape undetected.” He watched as each drop hit the bottom of the cup, then added a bit of lemon to the brew.

He slipped into the dining room where he knew his father would be seated. “How did the gala go?” Zuko looked over at his father, emotionless and stone faced as usual. “It was fine.” Ozai huffed without even looking up from his documents. Zuko poured him a cup of tea and placed it in front of him. “Tomorrow is the three year anniversary of your mother’s disappearance. Were you aware of that, Zuko?” He simply nodded. “Your mother was always so weak. She never fought back, never even so much as put up a fight. But when it came to protecting you, her true colors came out. She was merciless, fierce, and dangerous. You are so much like her.” He looked over at him, eyes dancing menacingly with fire. “Sometimes I wonder, just what are you capable of, Zuko?” Ozai lifted up the cup and took his first sip.

Zuko thoroughly washed out the tea set and placed it exactly where he had found it. He raced upstairs and set his items in his pack. A water satchel, his dao swords, a couple changes of clothing, a brick of tea, a locket, the special salve, and ten-thousand dollars in cash he had saved for a rainy day. Tonight was quite literally that rainy day. He put on his black clothing, and as stealthily as he had practiced, snuck down the halls, stopping at Azula’s abandoned room. “In a couple of months, when this is all over, I will come back for her.” He mentally told himself. He made sure to miss every security camera and every window. When he was out of sight, he ran through the rain, mud flinging every which way. He practically flew into the pickup stop for the bus. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he realized perhaps the bus would not come tonight. What was he to do then? Walk? Hitchhike? Just as he was about to leave, a big green and yellow bus skidded to a stop. The bus driver opened the doors and looked down at him, “You taking the bus to Ba Sing Se?” Zuko tried to keep his voice from shaking, “Yes, sir.” The man waved him forward. He walked in the almost full bus and took a seat at an open spot in the back. He looked around, wondering what kind of interesting strangers were on this midnight bus ride. He spotted two water-tribe siblings, a boy with blue tattoos all down his arms and legs even stretching to his forehead, a woman whose face had been painted red and white, and a blind girl who looked like she hadn't bathed for weeks.

He watched as they laughed at some joke the watertribe boy had told. He rested his head against the bus window, wondering if their paths would ever cross.

When he woke, they had made it to the city. He grabbed his pack from under the seat and scurried through the aisle. Zuko hopped off the bus hoping to get away from the smelly strangers as fast as possible. He grabbed the railings of the inner wall and scanned all of the buildings wondering how he would ever find Uncle. Even with the treacherous road ahead, he couldn't help but feel giddy.

Zuko looked up at the city skyline. He closed his eyes and let a smile wash over his face. Finally, he was free.

[the-navistar-carol]

Daminette Songfic — “Stronger” from Finding Neverland

Ok so technically this is a follow-up to my ‘Invisible Thread’ fic because 1) that BROKE 500 NOTES THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH and 2) literally everyone who reblogged or commented requested that to happen. There is a time jump from ‘Invisible Thread’ to here, because they know each others’ identities and are now currently dating.

This is nowhere near as good as ‘Invisible Thread’ and I can say that freely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! @ozmav @maribat-archive :)))

Before you read, trigger warning — death, gore, swearing.

In the darkest place is the faintest light

Gives me hope to face the hardest fight

Marinette. He had to get back to Marinette.

Hawkmoth would conquer all of Paris, maybe more.

The only person that stood in his way was Ladybug, was Marinette, his soulmate.

Damian cast a scorching glare around his surroundings. He stood in a cave, the only exit caved in. It was large enough for him to see the cavern around him, and too empty for his liking.

Stalactites thick around as his wrist hung from the ceiling, some of them reaching the floor as columns.

Someone had been elegant enough as to provide one, single, red LED lantern. Or, rather, it had fallen in with him. It sat tipped over five feet away, glowing like a sun.

The mark on his hand, usually pink, silver, and blue, was bathed in red.

Pain delivers me

His side flared, and it was only then that he remembered he’d been clawed.

Right.

Stripping off his shirt (it was too thin for the Parisian weather, anyway, and gray) he tore it to carefully bandage the injury, cleaning what he could.

Damn cats and their claws.

The white claw-tipped gloves had turned crimson and then a ruddy brown as they’d gone through his side.

And now he was here.

No matter. He’d worked through worse.

And he’d work through this.

I don't need their sympathy

Growling, Damian stalked over to the cave-in, surveying it for possible weaknesses.

He could’ve punted me into a place easier to escape from.

The rubble wasn’t evenly sized, all jagged and sharp, which was almost bothersome, but they formed a rough slope.

An endless Cataclysm would create problems.

Which it does.

So he set to work, flinging rocks away from the top by the white light of the lantern. Next camping trip, he would insist on the Coleman brand. They definitely worked.

The hole grew, slowly but steadily, and he worked through his pain and exhaustion.

Gonna have to try better than that.

Cause they can't take away my might

Where I go they will never find

The hole wouldn’t be more than a crawl space between the roof of the cave mouth and the rubble. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it didn’t need to be.

He’d take a scraped back or battered hands if that was what it took.

Because that was what it took.

And he would take more.

For Gotham, for his family. For Paris, even if he didn’t really like the city.

For her.

The hole grew.

I've got to be stronger

Reach up higher

How far back did this blasted cave-in go?!

No matter how much he removed, hands bleeding on the tips of his fingers, on his palms, wrists, forearms, there was always another rock.

His soulmate mark was crusted in rusty brown. Its pretty colors could barely be seen.

He couldn’t let himself dwell on this. If he stopped to think, he’d be crushed.

Literally? Maybe.

The rocks digging into his spine, the backs of his ribs, they agreed with the sentiment.

Tch. He had had to prove himself to a good many things.

The rocks would be another one on that list.

Dumb rocks.

He’d move a mountain if that was what it took.

Must dig deeper

Find the fire

Finally.

Finally.

Damian had never put any stock into the whole ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ thing. But now?

Now, as he crawled out of a hole in the ground, bleeding and covered in dirt, and into the fresh Parisian air, he believed it.

The young, green trees on the sides of the streets were still tied to their support poles. Rubble covered the paved streets, cars of all colors and sizes had been flung into buildings.

Bodies — bodies — littered the ground. Blood pooled in patches, rivers, trickles. No matter who or where, it was always the same deep red. Almost black, even.

His mouth dried, his tongue felt too large for his mouth. Hawkmoth hasn’t killed people before.

Ironic. The one person in charge of this damn mess was the one person (was he even a person?) he knew hadn’t ended a life.

Be enlightened

Can't be frightened anymore

His legs wobbled beneath him, so he picked up a wooden pole from where it had been uprooted, next to its slender, frail tree (the leaves were still green, but the birds’ nest had fallen, its eggs had cracked) for stability.

The birds wouldn’t return. Not without the Miraculous Cure, if it happened this time.

People had died this time. Maybe this time, Hawkmoth really was holding up to his promise that he would do anything to reach the Miraculi.

People died, he reminded himself with a snarl which was suspiciously animalistic. That woman with blonde hair, her glasses were shattered and blood stained the back of her hideous leopard-print blouse.

That man with the buzz-cut, he stared up at the sky with unseeing eyes as pale as the sky. They would see the sky no longer.

That child — that girl — lay in the middle of the road, half-curled into a ball. Her red hair spilled over her back, blending with the puncture wound through her chest.

Hawkmoth is going to fucking pay.

I can run now, so much faster

Now defeat won't be my master

Damian struggled on, his right hand clutching the pole and his left at his side, putting pressure on his injury. One step at a time.

The sounds of conflict grew now, and he picked up the pace.

Shouts echoed through the quiet streets of Paris (this quiet wasn’t because of peace, not anymore) of determination and rage.

Angel.

He saw a flash of blue and black, and heard a zap of electricity. The familiar whizz of a grapple sounded from above, and he was scooped up off the ground and launched into the air.

With a hiss of pain, he scrabbled in the grip until he realized the familiar person next to him was Nightwing.

“Keep calm, little D,” Nightwing murmured, and dropped him in an alleyway, away from the fighting.

“We’ve got to stop this.”

For to conquer the demons I won't have to wait any longer

I've got to be stronger

He wasn’t Robin right now. There was no cape behind him, nor military-grade boots on his feet. Not even a domino mask, to preserve his identity.

He wasn’t his mother’s assassin, either, perfectly poised and ready to strike with his injury.

He was only Damian Wayne, armed with a splintering garden pole.

But he pressed on, only determination, spite, and willpower left in his arsenal.

No fancy tricks or midair flips.

Just him.

You'll see in time

You will survive

He limped along the streets of Paris, heading straight for the fight. Well, not really. He had to take breaks when he felt like his side was on fire, which was a lot more than he was used to.

A red blur zoomed through the rooftops and he tensed, thinking it was another akuma of Hawkmoth — well, Scarlet Moth now — but when the figure landed before him, it was all he could do to not lurch into her arms.

Ladybug did it for him, squeezing him tight. He didn’t even complain when his side erupted, pole clattering to the ground as he returned the hug, arms twining around her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, shaking her head. “But then Nightwing told me he found you. Rena is out of commission, and Carapace’ll follow soon.

“I need you, Damian. Not as Robin.”

She let go of him, standing straight, and held out a hand. In it rested a black octagonal box, red design twining across its facets.

“I present to you the Miraculous of the Tiger, which gives the power of invisibility. Your brothers are already outfitted.”

He took it without hesitation.

Too soon to run

Too late to hide

He didn’t even flinch when the kwami — Roaar — zoomed out in a burst of yellow light. When it dimmed, he spotted a black-and-yellow panjas bracelet, which he slipped on, listening to her.

“Who are you?” the kwami demanded, buzzing into his face, her tiny tail lashing. “You’re injured, you’ll never do!”

Ladybug frowned, shaking her head at the kwami. “Roaar. Leave your personal feelings out of this, he’s the only one who’d fit you.”

She sniffed, tiny fangs flashing, but turned to him anyway. “I assume you know the drill. For five minutes, you will become invisible with the command Hunter. All you have to do to transform is say stripes rise, and to detransform, it’s stripes fade.”

Damian nodded to Roaar. “I look forward to working with you.” At her nod of approval, he tightened his fist. “Roaar, stripes rise!”

In a flash of magenta light, his pain faded and new strength rose to take its place.

It's your destiny

Every pace, every strife

He grinned, feeling the sharpened teeth against his gums. Ladybug closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and unhooked her yo-yo. “Let’s get going.”

Roaar had given him a croquet-like mallet and discs on a belt, the mallet on his back like Chat Noir’s baton. His suit was red, black stripes offset by white criss-crossing his frame. The armor on it was lighter, surprisingly supple, and almost changed shades as he moved into the light. Combat boots similar to his Robin boots laced halfway up his shin, the suit’s gloves retaining the familiar fins.

Damian glanced into a shattered window, taking in his reflection. His hair was now shot through with red, almost like a tiger’s stripes. The domino mask across his face was like so, a deep auburn with the beginnings of white strips at its corners, and unlike Ladybug’s, two white fang-shaped crescents peeled down over his jawbone.

He unhooked the mallet, testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced, made of red material with, of course, black stripes running diagonally across its length.

“I agree. Let’s go.”

And he sprang into the air, super-charged with the kwami’s godlike strength, Ladybug zipping beside him on her yo-yo.

I am stronger

Reach up higher

Rena Rouge and Carapace were nowhere to be seen. A monkey hero wielding a staff had entered the fray aside Queen Bee, who could only have been Tim. An ox hero fought aside them, charging at akuma in his way — Jason. Clones of a rooster hero, however odd, fought with only the acrobatics of Dick.

A smile almost tugged its way onto his face. They were here. His brothers, they were here.

Scarlet Moth and Mayura — or the akumatized Catalyst — were nowhere to be found.

His feeling of something close to pride was shot down as Queen Bee screamed, Ladybug’s eyes widening as a white (and now rusty red) figure shot through their ranks, white claws turning red as they dug into her side.

Chat Blanc.

Fury twisted his insides, and he leaped down, hefting one of the discs. Trusting in the Miraculous, he tossed it into the air and whacked it with the mallet, sending it flying.

The disc shot through akuma like a rebounding chakram, smashing bones, armor, and akumatized objects at will, and struck Chat Blank in the back with a solid crunch.

Digging deeper

Find the fire

Chat Blanc fell, scrabbling at the ground. Damian snagged his ring with a sneer, smashing the center gem. An akuma flitted out, which Ladybug purified. He tucked the ring into a pocket, for her to take to the master later.

Queen Bee had fallen, Tim getting her to safety as Jason and Dick closed ranks around him and Ladybug.

“I see you’ve got a new outfit, little D,” Dick grinned.

“Tt. It has a better look than that ridiculous color scheme of yours.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous.”

“Compare sizes later, boys,” Ladybug ordered, yo-yo spinning. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“Can do,” Dick replied cheerily, readying his balero.

The akuma ran at them, and Jason, with the fortitude of the Ox, met them in stride, plowing through their ranks like, well, a bull in a china shop.

He fought akuma after akuma, breaking object after object as the three brothers — four as soon as Tim returned — made a circle around Ladybug, who purified the akuma.

Rena Rouge returned to the fight, joining their fight, but Carapace and Queen Bee were nowhere to be seen. “Carapace is taking care of Queenie,” she relayed. “They’re safe.”

Were they?

Feel enlightened

Won't be frightened, anymore

Finally — finally — they stood up against none. A lone scarlet butterfly flitted into view, catching Ladybug’s eye. She purified it, then began to zip in the direction from where it had come. The brothers followed her, trusting in her judgement as Scarlet Moth sent out another red akuma, purified it, and followed its course again.

One way or another, they would find Hawkmoth.

A beeping from Tim’s circlet alerted him that he was about to transform back, so he fell back, promising to catch up.

The team found themselves staring at Agreste Mansion, as fury built in Damian. Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzed by, catching another akuma as it flitted from the window.

“Damn him,” growled Jason. “Go fucking figure.”

She said nothing, merely readied her yo-yo and launched herself skyward, only to shatter the window of Hawkmoth’s lair. The three brothers and Rena thudded down beside her, ready for justice.

I can run now

So much faster

It was five on two. Hawkmoth never stood a chance. He was first rammed into the wall by Jason, Catalyst attacked by Rena and Jason at once.

Jason stepped aside to let Damian deal his blows, and then he, too, stood to the side as Ladybug stood over the weakened Hawkmoth, no sneer on her face.

Instead, it was almost… one of pity.

Rena Rouge yanked Catalyst’s akumatized iPad away, smashing it. The akuma form bubbled away to reveal Nathalie Sancour, a flickering Peacock Miraculous on her chest. She gently unclasped it, cradling the pin in her hands.

She crouched, and removed the brooch of the Butterfly. A purple light flashed, and Gabriel Agreste lay at her feet. One blow from Jason sent him unconscious.

The fox superheroine handed Ladybug the Peacock Miraculous, and the red-themed superheroine gave her a nod of thanks. “Rooster, alert the police.”

Dick saluted, and bounded out the window.

Now defeat won't be my master

They were done. They were done.

As the last traces of Miraculous Ladybug swept across the skies of Paris, the four Gothamites and the four Parisians stood on the top of the rooftops in wonder.

“Your Miraculi, please.” Ladybug’s voice was thick as the Butterfly, Peacock, and Black Cat kwami floated at her shoulders, almost melancholy that this would end.

“Orikko, end my cry.”

“Xuppu, show’s over.”

“Stompp, rampage’s done.”

“Roaar, stripes fade.”

The four sons of Bruce Wayne stood on the rooftop, Queen Bee nodding. “I thought she might pick you guys.”

“Wayzz, shell off.”

“Trixx, let’s rest.”

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, and Chloé Bourgeois stood before them, kwami at their shoulder.

They looked to Ladybug, who gazed at them back with tears in her eyes.

“Tikki, spots off.”

For to conquer the demons

I won't have to wait any longer

Summer had begun. Paris was beginning to heal. Gabriel and Nathalie were imprisoned, as was Lila. Adrien was sent to live with his uncle in England, clearly getting the easy way out.

Alya, Nino, and Chloé walked out of school with Marinette, chatting happily amongst themselves. New earrings shone in Marinette’s ears, this time permanently jeweled in red-and-black. In fact, the four all carried tokens similar to their Miraculi, some subtler than others.

The Wayne boys met them at the bottom of the stairs, eager for a new start.

Damian pulled Marinette into a searing kiss, and his soul mark warmed against her jawline, her own happily tingling as she snaked her arm around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Alya’s palm flashed green and blue as she snapped a picture on her camera, Nino’s shimmering orange and white when he pushed up his glasses.

Chloé’s soul mark was clear for the world to see on her right shoulder, red and gold and black starkly contrasting with her white strapless crop-top. Kagami, happy to be out of her mother’s clutches for once, waved a greeting with her yellow-and-black hand.

They could finally, finally come out on top.

They weren’t perfect, but they were better than when they had begun.

I am stronger

[ericsonclan]

The Comfort of a Blanket

Summary: The twins and Tenn watch a movie and have a pleasant evening together until something happens to Minnie's blanket.

Read on A03: 

Minnie sat on the couch enjoying the comfort of her blanket as she watched a movie with her siblings. They were watching Spiderman: Into the SpiderVerse for the millionth time. It was one of Tenn’s favorite movies so whenever he could convince them they would sit down and watch it. Tenn’s eyes were glued to the screen as he watched the different heroes face off against Kingpin. His body leaned forward and his arms wrapped tighter and tighter with each second of the film. Sophie wasn’t paying much attention to the TV; her focus was entirely on her sketchbook.

The sound of her pencil racing across paper could be heard faintly behind the loud action scene. When they had started this watchthrough of the movie, Sophie had been hit with a bolt of inspiration. Quickly mumbling that she was drawing different people from Ericson Diner with their own superspider designs, she’d gotten completely lost in her art, only occasionally glancing up before being hit with another wave of inspiration. They were getting towards the end of the movie when Minnie leaned forward to grab the popcorn only for a drink to be tipped over, the contents of which landed directly on her blanket.

“Shit!” Minnie jumped up to her feet, causing her siblings to also stir and look over with concern. Sophie haphazardly tried to grab the remote, pausing the movie after a minute.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” Tenn looked back at his older sister who looked devastated by the event that had played out.

“I’m fine,” She let out a sad sigh, lifting up her blanket “I can’t say the same for my blanket though,” She carefully examined the stain that was forming where the drink had spilled. Renata had given her this blanket and now she had ruined it.

“Don’t worry, Minnie. We can wash it. “ Sophie walked over to stand beside her.

“I don’t want it to get damaged or anything though,” Minnie had a worried expression on her face as she looked at her twin.

“That won’t be a problem,” Sophie gently took the blanket from her sister’s hands before motioning Minnie to follow her to the laundry room. “If we use this setting and grab-'' Sophie grunted as she stood on her tippy toes to reach the laundry detergent, letting out a happy noise when she had succeeded, “Grab the unscented tide pods,” Sophie glanced over at her twin who gave her approval before she tossed the blanket into the washer along with the detergent.

With a few button presses the washer began its progress, slowly spinning around the blanket.

“Is everything okay?” Tenn called from the back living room.

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” Minnie replied, walking back with Sophie so they could finish up the movie. They only had about fifteen minutes left which felt unusually long for Minnie as she waited impatiently for the washer to be done. When the credits had rolled the three siblings sat around for a moment, not sure what to do next.

“People are going to flip out when they see these,” Sophie carefully placed away her sketchpad with an excited smile.

“So, what do we do next?” Minnie asked, hoping her siblings would come up with some good ways to pass the time.

“We could do that art challenge that I’ve seen lately,” Tenn nervously fidgeted with his fingers as he spoke.

“Oh, which one?” Sophie immediately perked up whenever art was involved.

“It’s the one where one person draws someone in the room then they pass the paper to the next person who draws them and so on until everyone has been drawn,” Tenn explained the rules as carefully and clearly as he could, hoping his sisters would agree to the idea.

“Sounds fun to me! What about you, Minnie? You game?” Sophie looked over at Minnie who seemed less excited at the idea. Unlike her two other siblings she sucked at art, especially drawing.

“I don’t know,” She paused when she saw Tenn’s face fall. “Ok, I’ll give it a shot.”

Sophie and Tenn looked over at each other, overjoyed that Minnie had agreed. Sophie soon ran off to find some paper, returning swiftly with a handful of pencils and paper. Tenn was the first up.

After finding a good angle to draw from he started his sketch of Minnie. His eyes became laser focused on the paper as he drew. After ten minutes he turned around his paper, proudly displaying his art.

“That’s really good!” Sophie exclaimed, leaning forward to get a closer look.

“It really is,” Minnie agreed, impressed that he was able to get so many of her features right.

Tenn looked away, the smile on his face growing at his sisters' praise. Minnie was up next. Picking up the pencil she began her sketch what she was sure was going to turn out to be a disservice to Sophie’s face. Her tongue stuck out slightly as she concentrated on her sketch, erasing a section before trying again. After about fifteen minutes she had decided it was as good as it could be and reluctantly showed it to her siblings. Sophie grasped the paper, bringing it closer to her face.

“I love it,” She whispered, staring at her sister’s art.

“It’s hideous,” Minnie mumbled, falling back into the couch.

“I think it’s good,” Tenn offered his sister a gentle smile which she returned.

“I’ll be right back. I gotta add these to the collection,” Before Minnie could object Sophie was gone, her feet loudly banging on the steps as she ran upstairs. After a few minutes she returned, a huge grin on her face.

“Alright, I guess it’s my turn,” Sophie plopped herself back in her spot, snatching up the pencil as she stared at her brother. She studied his face for a few minutes before she started. Her pencil lightly brushed against the page as she worked, her eyes lighting up as she continued to draw. After around twenty minutes she dramatically turned around the paper, revealing a beautiful black and white sketch of Tenn. He looked so peaceful as a kind smile played on his lips.

“Holy shit, Soph, your art just keeps getting better and better!” Minnie exclaimed.

Sophie nervously played with her cap at Minnie’s compliment, a shy smile on her face. “Aw, thanks,”

Minnie paused when she heard the washer signalling that the cycle had been done. She got up from her spot and made her way over to the laundry room, switching the blanket over to the dryer.

“Make sure to put it on the gentlest cycle,” Sophie’s voice carried over from the back living room.

“Ok, got it,” Minnie double checked the setting. Starting up the cycle, she returned to her siblings.

“So what’s the next game?” Sophie kicked her legs lazily on the side of the couch.

“I could get my guitar and we could make up some songs,” Minnie offered to which her siblings immediately agreed. Getting up, she made her way to her room where her black acoustic guitar laid proudly on its stand. Securing the strap, she made her way back to where her siblings were already trying to come up with some fun lyrics.

“So how are we going to do this?” Minnie asked as she tuned her guitar.

“We should each come up with one line of lyrics and then the next person goes until we complete a song.” Sophie suggested, sitting up from her spot.

“Alright,” Minnie took a few more minutes tuning her guitar then began to strum some notes for her siblings to start out the song.

“There once was a dog that was a poodle,” Tenn began to sing softly.

“He looked like a day old noodle,” Sophie sang out, not caring that her voice wasn’t any good.

“And he had buggy pupils,” Minnie added.

The song continued on from there. Each sibling struggled to find a good sentence to add to the song when it was their turn. After it had finished they decided to play a few more rounds which went just as well as the first time.

“Oh, Minnie, can you play that song you wrote the other day?” Tenn asked, leaning back in his chair as he hugged a couch pillow.

“Sure,” Minnie replied with a gentle smile on her lips. The song started out slow and quiet as Minnie’s voice gently entered in. Soon the whole room was filled with her singing as her siblings sat back, completely taken in by the song. After a few minutes the song had finished. Sophie quickly requested one of her favorite songs of Minnie’s. The three of them sat around, the melody of the guitar and the soft cadence of Minnie’s voice the only things audible in the room. Tenn and Sophie kept making requests until Minnie stated that she needed a little break. Her fingers absentmindedly strummed the guitar as she chatted with her brother and sister.

Suddenly she paused, the faint tune of the dryer cycle being done could be heard from the laundry room. “I hear it calling to me,” She gently placed down her guitar, rising to her feet. “Blankie!”

She was off like a shot, sliding across the floor as she entered the laundry room. She quickly opened up the dryer door, sweeping up the warm mess that was her blanket. She gave it a fast examination and noticed that the stain was gone. Moving it towards her face, she inhaled the blanket’s scent. Her nose was overcome with the sweet and spicy smell that she had grown so fond of: cinnamon.

It still smells like Renata.

The smile on Minnie’s face grew as she strolled to the back living room, happy that her blanket was okay.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love Side Part 4 - Edith

One more side part after this one. This is from Edith’s perspective. I’ll go ahead and warn you now, it isn’t happy, obviously. After this though is the Queen, and i’m really looking forward to her part!!

Master post linked here. 

Enjoy!

_________________________

In a previous life…

Everyone has a place in life. A shining spot belonging just to you. And if you are able to sit in that spot, your life will be happy and blessed. This is what I’ve always believed.

There is a girl who stole that place from me.  

I learned about this while I was still young.

“Mother, why doesn’t Father like me?” I was crying, a feeling of frustration and helplessness overcoming me. Even a simple conversation with my father led to criticism, he looked at me as if… as if I were something worthless. Something dirty.

My mother, the Countess of Erand, was a beautiful woman. She had large eyes, a pitiful expression which inspired sympathy and love. She shook her head at my question, smiling strangely.

“That’s because he isn’t your father, silly.” What a shocking thing to tell a young child, but she didn’t seem to sense any inappropriateness to her words. Mother quickly explained my true parentage, that my father was the Duke of Armeny, one of the most powerful noblemen in the kingdom.

“Why don’t we live with him?” I felt upset, looking at the poorly furnished room we sat in. In our home the outer sitting rooms were luxuriously furnished, but it was only a front. The Count of Erand was not a wealthy man, and so our actual living quarters were quite humble. 

“He married another woman.” Mother smiled despite the terrible words. “He didn’t have a choice, his heart will always remain with me.”

I stared at her in shock. “Can’t you win him back?”

“I wouldn’t want him to be unhappy, or mire his name in scandal.” She shook her head slowly. “He has a wife, and a daughter now. She’s actually close to your age.” A small sigh escaped her. “She’s your half sister, but she looks a lot more like your father than you do.” 

“Is she… better than me?” I whispered, my heart breaking at the sight of my mother praising another girl. 

“She’s raised by your father, so naturally she will be more noble and refined.” Mother shrugged, not noticing the despair she caused with these few words. “I want you to become friends with her, but make sure to always treat her well! Don’t embarrass your mother by acting poorly in front of her! She’s HIS precious daughter after all.”

“O- of course, mother.” I smiled, the expression at odds with the coldness I felt in my heart.  I was young, but even I could sense the unhealthy light in my mother’s eyes as she spoke about that man and his daughter. She loved him, to the point of madness, until she could ignore everything and everyone else.

I thought love was a fairly pointless thing, then, if it made you like this. 

I wanted to ignore her words, but a seed had been planted in my mind. No wonder I was unhappy. I wasn’t where I was meant to be. The place in life I was meant to have had been taken, which was the source of all my misery. If I just could take it back…

Thus began my obsession with my half-sister, the girl who stole my place.

_________________________

 “Hi, I’m Lenora.” A smiling young girl, with light colored hair and bright eyes, curtseyed prettily in front of me. She seemed happy, secure, and comfortable in the luxurious environment around us.

I felt immediate dislike for her, a thick wave of jealousy choking in my throat. 

How dare she look so content? How dare she enjoy the shining spot that was meant to be mine? She had wealth, a position of power, and her father at her side.

I wanted… I needed to take it all from her. 

_________________________

I pretended to be Lenora’s friend. It was surprising easy. Despite her position she was desperately lonely, pathetically latching on to any attention I would give her. All it would take was the threat of ignoring her to get her to do what I wanted. Sometimes she would resist, however

“Give me the doll.” I held out my hand, demanding the item she held to her chest with an imperious expression.

Lenora shook her head, clutching the ratty toy tighter. “No, Edith, this was a present from the Queen. I really love it.”

“Why do you care if the Queen gave you a toy?” I smirked. “It’s so poor looking, it’s better if you don’t have it.”

“No! The Queen says one day I’m going to be her daughter! I’m going to marry the prince and live in the castle with both of them!”

She held onto the doll tighter, tears forming in her eyes.

She was going to marry a prince? My gaze narrowed, and without further thought I reached out, ripping the toy from her and tearing it to pieces. 

“If you had just given me the stupid doll I wouldn’t have had to do that! Now it’s ruined and it’s all your fault!”

She burst into tears, the frightened sobs racking her small body. I felt a bright smile form across my face, a relaxed feeling taking over. I knew then, it wasn’t enough to simply take my spot back.

I had to make her regret ever having it in the first place.

_________________________

As I grew older, my methods became more complex. I bought over her personal maid with the money I had saved and the promises of future favors for her brother. With Angela’s help, it was all too easy to dress her in ridiculous clothes, convincing her it was the height of fashion. I took her out to the royal gardens almost every day, urging her to try to catch a glimpse of the prince. I wanted her to love him. I wanted all of her hopes to be set on him.

“Your highness! ” I met Prince Ronan “by accident” one day in the gardens when Lenora was ill. “I’ve heard rumors that you were handsome and intelligent looking, but I think you are even better than what people say!”

Shameless flattery, but from what I heard, Ronan was a simple man.

“I am pretty great!” He smiled brightly at me. “What’s your name?” 

I curtsied, keeping a shy expression on my face. “Edith, Your Highness. I’m a… acquaintance of your fiancé.”

“My fiancé? That foolish girl my mother wants me to marry?” He sneered. “How dare they try to tell me what to do?!”

“I agree… Lenora says that the Queen will force you to marry her no matter what! It makes me so sad to think of a wonderful man like you being trapped by a woman like that!”

I dabbed my eyes with a handkerchief, forcing a few tears from my eyes. From the corner of my vision I stole glimpses of the prince’s face, satisfied by what I saw.

Ronan looked furious.

_________________________

It was simple to pull him over to my side. Constant flattery, with mixed in hints of how Lenora was an arrogant girl who thought she was better than him. As his opinion of me improved, I added on sob stories of being bullied by Lenora, enjoying his righteous anger on my behalf. 

Lenora, foolishly, had no idea. I had made him promise to be polite to her, to pretend nothing was wrong. Of course, if he wanted to pull pranks on her publically, like tripping her at her birthday party… I couldn’t object to that. That was just free entertainment.

Everything was moving along as planned.

_________________________

As we grew older however, I noticed a worrying change in my half-sister. She disagreed with me more often, trying to spend time with other girls and make friends. She frequently quoted the queen when she was disagreeing with me, not immediately capitulating to my opinion as she had in the past. One day I visited her room, only to find her in a beautiful gown.

“What is that?!” I forced a disgusted expression. It was difficult to hide my shock. The dress was beautiful, a delicate violet ballgown with light blue embroidery, highlighting her petite frame.

Lenora hesitated, looking shy. “I designed it myself! Do you like it?”

“Where did you get the idea for something like this?” Every gown I helped her buy was hideous! How could she design something like this?!

“I wanted to wear something more like the Queen.” She smiled brightly, touching the small sapphire amulet hanging around her neck. I hated that necklace. It was a gift from the Queen, a family heirloom that was to be passed down to her daughter.

That should be mine! How dare she wear it!

“You look nothing like the Queen.” My voice was cold. “You look ridiculous in that.”

Her face paled. “I do?”

“Yes. Hurry and get rid of it, before someone sees you in it and laughs.”

I watched her eyes fill with tears, satisfied for a moment. But soon it was replaced with a feeling of panic.

I’m losing control of the situation. I need to hurry things along.

_________________________

 “Your Highness!” I sobbed loudly, burying my face in his shoulder. “Please break off your engagement with that girl! I can’t live without you!”

“Don’t worry.” A warm hand patted my hair gently. I frowned as it mussed up the careful styling, the expression hidden by his coat. “At my birthday, dearest! I’ll be a legal adult, I can break the engagement without my parents’ approval and I’ll announce you as my future bride the same day!”

“Really? What about your mother?” I sniffed, pretending to be consoled by his clumsy gestures. “Won’t she try to interfere?”

“Who cares if she does?”

“The nobility care…” I whispered these words, however, knowing he wouldn’t understand. If the Queen was there she would stick up for Lenora. She doted on her too much already. I knew I would have to take matters into my own hands if i wanted a perfect defeat of my half-sister.

Even though the one she should dote on is me!

A simple poisoned tea made the Queen too sick to attend, and the party went off without flaw. The prince renounced Lenora publically, holding me to his side. His eyes were filled with affection as he looked down at me, but I immediately looked away, all of my attention on the crying young woman being helped out of the room by our father.

WHY ISN’T HE LOOKING AT ME?! 

I was taking my proper place as the future queen. The place Lenora stole from me! She was broken, defeated… but still he only glanced in my direction once at the beginning, with the same haunted guilty eyes he always had when he saw me, before turning back to Lenora.

The glass in my hand cracked under the tightness of my grip. I brushed it off with a gentle laugh, saying I was nervous. Everyone smiled at me, including the prince. I was the center of attention.

But still I could only stare at the empty doorway where they had left without a single glance behind.

I almost quit my plans then. I had taken her engagement, taken her place… I should have been happy. But it wasn’t enough. I had to keep going.

She wasn’t miserable enough.

_________________________

I worked with Angela to intercept all letters between the Queen and Lenora. I started rumors, making sure to repeat them frequently to Lenora, that the Queen had no interest in her anymore. Each time I saw the agony on her face at the abandonment, I felt happy. But the feeling was fleeting. It wasn’t enough.

Even without my help, the Duchy of Armeny came to ruin. Their debts were called in, their home was taken, and Lenora moved out with her parents.

I hired people to keep an eye on her, trying to find enjoyment in the day to day life as a future Queen. It was difficult. Mrs. Rendler, the etiquette instructor, disliked me. She only agreed to teach me after a direct order from the prince, and yet she frowned whenever she was looking at me.

“Lenora was a hardworking girl. Intelligent too. She mastered this much more quickly.” Her words were barbs underneath my skin. I tried to ignore them, but they struck at each weak point I had, making me lash out. I fired her, hiring a new teacher, one without a connection to my half-sister.

Ronan doted on me as usual. The King ignored me, for which I was grateful. His eyes were cold, and I couldn’t help but feel the schemes he hid in his smile. I knew that he would easily destroy me if it worked for his plans. 

As for the Queen…

I tried my best to form a relationship with her. I brought her gifts, invited her to parties, visited daily… but each time she would politely thank me for the attention, and then turn back to the window, where she always looked out, as if searching for someone. It made me furious.

How was she any better than me as a future daughter in law! Why, even when that wretched girl is gone, does she still only think of her?!

I needed to act soon. I had convinced the Queen through messages sent by Angela before the fall of the duchy that Lenora despised her, and never wanted to see her again, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before she looked to see her again. I just needed an opportunity…

And one day it came. A young girl around our age was murdered on the streets. As soon as I got the news, I had one of my people make the face unrecognizable. I then approached the Queen with a sad, teary-eyed face to give her the good news.

“Lenora is dead. They found her body this morning.”

I left her in agonized tears, feeling elated that soon the Queen would see me instead of Lenora. She would forget all about her. And that girl’s stolen place in her heart would belong to me.

But it didn’t work. 

No matter how many months passed, the Queen refused to stop mourning. She stayed in her rooms, with only the butler to take care of her, refusing all invitations. I was furious, but everything I tried was useless.

_________________________

I came across a notice from my men one morning. Our father was dead. He had been murdered by a loan shark who he had borrowed money from, his body recovered in a gutter. I paused as I read the report, unsure of how to feel.

I’m glad that Lenora is in pain. And what did that man ever do to me? He only stared occasionally at me and felt guilty. What use was he? An uneasy feeling remained in my heart, but I irritably brushed it aside.

I lost track of her for a while, after her mother died and she last came to find me. I panicked when my men lost her, unsure of how she escaped my view. I felt empty… confused… lost. As more and more time passed, I worried that she had found a new place, become happy, had taken more things from me.

But finally I found Lenora once again.

_________________________

She was begging streets, slowly starving to death. Wherever she had been, whoever had been helping her was gone, and now she was alone. I was content once more, reading my daily reports on her activities. I arranged to ride by her street with Ronan, flaunting my wealth and happiness. 

I grabbed his arm once we passed by her, smiling brightly. “I’m so lucky to be able to marry a wonderful man like you! But, some days, I just feel so guilty that I stole Lenora’s place…” 

“Lenora? “I’m glad to be rid of her. Who would want her when they could have you?” Ronan reacted exactly as I hoped.

I looked down, hoping she would cry. “Yes, who would want her?”

_________________________

Close to the end, Lenora finally sold the necklace I hated so much. A priceless treasure, all for a loaf of bread. I bought it immediately, and kept it by my side, frequently taking it out to look at it. I considered breaking it to pieces, but still I held on, waiting.

The day Lenora died, I tossed the necklace to the Queen, and told her the truth of what I had done. I smiled at the despair in her eyes, enjoying her pain. I had already poisoned her, so there was no fear of her telling anyone else. It was a painful,l pathetic end.

Exactly what she deserved. Who told her to love Lenora and not me. 

I had won.

A strange emptiness came across me at the thought. I went back to my lavish rooms, sitting down and looking around.

I had done it. I had taken my place back. Lenora was broken, and gone, her body thrown to the forest for the animals to tear apart.

She was dead.

My eyes began to burn, and to my utter horror, I felt tears… genuine tears… fill my vision, overflowing and tracing down my cheeks. My throat burned, my breath came in gasps, and above all I was undeniably… 

EMPTY.

I shook my head. What was I thinking?  I won! I had taken Ronan from Lenora.

I lived in a loveless marriage with a fool I despised.

I was going to be Queen. 

In a country that was financially bankrupt, with a scheming king who saw me as a pawn.

Lenora had lost her parents.

My father died too, never caring once about me except to feel guilty. My mother had died only a day after hearing the news. The horrific end to her obsessive love.

She had lost everything. I had everything!

My entire life had revolved around Lenora. What did I have now that she was gone?  What special place? What bright and happy life? I was more miserable now than I ever was when she had everything I wanted.

I had nothing.

I was…. Empty.

Hysterical laughter gave way to screams of pain, the sounds tearing themselves from my throat as  I sank weakly to the ground.

_________________________

In another life...

“Edith.” A familiar voice woke me from my sleep. I turned in place on my hard cot, looking through the bars. My cell was small, but furnished, having been built for nobility who had committed crimes against the crown. At my status as a count’s daughter I normally wouldn’t have been kept there, but Ronan had requested I be moved there to be more comfortable. The only concession his father would make. I sighed loudly, sitting up and facing my visitor.

“Ronan, what brings you here?” My voice was cold, emotionless. I had no reason to pretend to care for him anymore. I had tried in the beginning, hoping he could pressure the king for my release… but it had come to nothing, and I gave up the farce after a while.

The prince smiled at me, but his eyes were angry. “I wanted to see the girl who ruined my life.” 

“Ruined your life?” I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “How many years have I been locked up again?”

“You deserve it, for your crimes.”

I smiled at him calmly, despite the rage in his voice. “You haven’t visited me in years, and now you come back to berate me about this old matter? I didn’t even manage to kill her.”

“You lied to me!” His hands shook, and he clenched them at his sides. “You told me Lenora was a fool! You convinced me to break ties with her!” 

He began pacing back and forth as he spoke. “But day after day that’s all I hear about. Lenora is a genius. She’s a prodigy at diplomacy and etiquette, a master of business and economy. Tilendria has flourished under her and Nate, becoming much stronger than us!” He paused in his steps, glaring at me. “They laugh at me! Mocking me through songs! I’m the foolish prince who dumped the girl who became a marvelous Queen.”

I felt a pain in my chest at the mention of her, but it was a dull ache, the years spent away from my half sister causing a slow detachment in my heart. I hated her. I despised her still. But it seemed to matter less now, within the confines of this cell. “Why bring this up now?”

“I saw them.” Ronan whispered, his eyes haunted. “I saw them both at a diplomatic function. They were happy, smiling. They spoke about their lives… children.”

BAM!

His fist struck the bars, causing me to jump back a little at the loud sound. “THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY!”

BAM! 

“YOU LIED TO ME, RUINED MY LIFE!”

BAM! The bars shook, but stayed firmly in place, the skin of his hand tore at the repeated blows, blood dripping onto the stone floor at his feet, but he continued to stare at me, ignoring the wound.

“Because of you that bastard took my place! Nate took my wife, my family, my happiness! Even my mother! His kingdom flourishes, while ours goes under.” He sat on the floor, his legs seemingly giving out from under him.

“The Duchy of Armeny seceded. They officially joined Tilendria. They were the cornerstone of our economy, our foundation… “ He chuckled bitterly. “I will become a king of nothing. And it’s your fault.”

“Is it really?” I stared at him, a flicker of recognition within me

He nodded. “Yes! You and Nate! He took everything from me! He took my place! My happiness!”

“…” A silence fell between us.

I began to laugh. A quiet, almost silent expression, which soon grew louder and louder, echoing off the bare walls of my cell. It took a long time to regain my composure, but I slowly did, looking up at my former fiancé whose face was pale with rage.

“It was never your place. None of it belonged to you. Even if I hadn’t lied to you, even if you had married her, you would have never been as happy as they are now.”

“How could you say that?”

“Because we’re the same.”

 I had a feeling deep down, that even if my plan had succeeded, I wouldn’t have been happy. How could I have been content when everything in my life had always been focused on her happiness?

I stared at the prince sadly for a moment. I knew if he was saying these things to me, he had likely said them elsewhere too. I had heard rumors that Lenora kept spies in Reterand, and had a feeling she would show little mercy if he tried to plot against her family. He would not have a happy end if he continued down this path.

“Go home, Ronan. Try to forget them. Find your own place. Find your own happiness.”

I leaned back on my cot, staring up at the ceiling, refusing to look his way again.

“Before it’s too late.”

I closed my eyes. 

“Before you end up like me.”

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Soso likes her town, but she’s starting to think she’s never going to find a single interesting thing about it. There’s a supermarket, a park, a few family-owned shops and eateries that haven’t yet succumbed to the pressure put on them by the encroaching chain franchises. Pretty standard small-town fair, not unlike the one she grew up in.

Therein lies the problem. She’d been so excited to leave home for the first time all those semesters ago that she hadn’t considered that change doesn’t always equal improvement, and putting a hundred miles of distance between her and her old problems didn’t guarantee her a perfect new life. She doesn’t particularly miss living with her parents, rather she finds herself feeling homesick for a place she doesn’t think she’s found yet. There’s a restlessness in her-- her mom claims she gets it from her dad, and vice versa. It’s plagued her in small ways all her life, in the way she finds new friendships but struggles to make them last, in the way she throws herself into new passions only to grow bored of them within weeks, in the way college had seemed so thrilling and full of promise when she was a bright-eyed freshman and now here she is, on indefinite academic leave, struggling to remember what it was she saw in the place that was worth a lifetime of student loans.

She only has so long to figure it out too. She wants to finish her degree, she does, but art requires inspiration and there’s only so much to photograph in a town whose main export is cow shit and stale gossip. If she changes her major again at this point her advisor is for real going to mount her head on a pike outside the bursar’s office, so she has to at least try.

It doesn’t help that she’s pretty much limited to the immediate vicinity surrounding her housing co-op until she either manages to get herself a car or the bus drivers union wins their latest standoff with city hall. Cars cost money though, which means getting a real fulltime job, which she expects will spell the end for any lingering chance of her going back to school anyway. The snake devours its tail, and Soso commutes by bike.

Soso’s handy; she’s confident she can fix anything given enough time, the right tools, and a couple reliable video tutorials. That, among other odd jobs, is her main preoccupation right now. It’s something, but she can’t picture herself changing tires and cleaning out gutters for elderly neighbors to support her Chinese takeout dependency forever. At the rate she’s going, her best customers are going to start dying off before she graduates.

On that morbid note, Soso decides she needs to get out of the house. She slings her bag over her back just in case she manages to run into something photo-worthy and grabs her bike. It’s a brisk autumn afternoon and the fresh air is just what she needs.

On the way out she runs into one of her housemates, Carmen the highly caffeinated, returning from campus looking frazzled. Soso isn’t particularly close with any of her housemates, frequently as they tend to come and go, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her sympathies.

“Any luck with the research?”

Carmen groans. “My paper is doomed. Remind me why I thought ‘modern impact of classical mythology’ was a good choice for my level 300 history course?”

“Uh, beats me.” In reality she thinks it sounds like a fun subject, but it doesn’t feel her place to say so given that while Carmen’s been slaving away at the school library, she’s spent the better of her day half-watching questionable documentaries on alien conspiracies.

“Ensfield is full of weird old superstitions and legends,” she goes on frustratedly. “The old bridge makes it on one of those ‘top 10 spooky locations’ lists like once a month. Complain about a cough to the wrong person and suddenly you get people telling you you’re hexed and you need to walk in a circle counter-clockwise under the new moon to get rid of it.”

She’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but nods anyway, waiting for the point she hopes is coming.

“You’d think the library in a town like this would have better sources on mythology. But no, all I get is a shrug and the same three books everyone else in the class is using. If I want to bump up my GPA, I need something you can’t just find on Wikipedia.”

Another one of their housemates crawls out from the shrubbery by the porch. “Maybe you should try that other library.”

“Jesus!” Carmen jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

Phoebe brushes dirt off her knees. “I saw a black cat go into the gap.” She points at a thin crack in the woodwork. “Halloween is coming. Any cats, especially black ones, you see wandering around need to be brought to the shelter pronto. People do terrible things to them if they see them wandering around this time of year.”

Soso squints. “Looks too small to fit a cat.”

“I saw what I saw. Anyway, there’s supposed to be an old town library way past the woods, thataway.” She points. “Guy who works there is really weird I heard but almost no one goes there anymore so you’d have first pick.”

Carmen looks thoughtful. “I think I’ve heard of it. I kind of thought it was just something people made up.”

“Nah, it’s real. My brother’s fraternity brings freshman there to haze them. They tell them to go up and throw eggs at the place and then ditch ‘em in the woods.”

Soso blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s just a thing they do. It sucks and it’s totally immature but no one ever accused those guys of being creative.”

“Whatever,” Carmen says. “I’m done with books for today. I’m gonna go inside and enjoy some nice brain-rotting TV.”

“Good call, honestly. If you get caught hanging around that place too much they’ll probably start egging us next.”

Carmen heads inside and Phoebe goes back to making little coaxing noises at the gap in the porch. Soso frowns to herself. Sometimes she feels like people in this town purposely go out of their way to ruin anything that could be the slightest bit different. It’s probably just a normal library that happened to be in a weird spot, run by a typical cranky old librarian. Even if it is nothing it probably has more to offer than spending the rest of her day throwing french-fries to birds and squirrels in the Burger Beast parking lot.

“Hey Phoebe,” she says. “Where did you say that library was?”

 --

 The trip is longer than she had anticipated. Her legs are strong but the sun’s getting low enough that she worries she’ll be riding home in the dark. A generous part of it she blames on Phoebe’s vague directions, scribbled into a patchwork paper map of hear-say more than anything else. Despite this she continues. She’s snapped a few pictures of the foliage in its brilliant reds and golds, so if all else is a bust at least she won’t have completely wasted her time. Worst case scenario, she returns home with a little extra muscle on her calves from all the pedaling.

Well, the real worst case scenario is probably more along the lines of her getting caught by an axe murderer and left to rot in the spooky woods, another ghost for the local repertoire. Even then, at least she won’t have to worry about the next family phone call if she’s dead.

Grim musings aside, she loops back and manages to find the correct path, a trampled dirt road half-hidden under the leaf litter, and at last make her way to the fabled “other library”. It’s one of those old brick buildings, surrounded by a low fence that struggles to hold its own against the climbing vines and insects nibbling at its posts. It’s early enough in the season that their collective buzz-chirp-hum still fills the air, though otherwise it is almost eerily quiet. It’s strangely peaceful, Soso thinks as she wades through wild patches of tall grass, as if she were returning to somewhere familiar.

The place is clearly abandoned, she decides, sunlight refracting off the firmly shuttered windows. It’s a cool discovery to be sure, but she ought to have known a mysterious library in the woods with an equally mysterious shut-in tending it was too much to expect from a town like Ensfield. That doesn’t stop her from exploring though. She likes it here, and she especially likes the gorgeous, ancient-looking gargoyle that sits in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, like one of those stone lions that stand guard outside of libraries of greater fame than this one.

The thing is magnificent, as well as truly hideous, its face twisted in a snarl so visceral and strikingly lifelike that it sends a genuine chill down her spine. The attention to detail, to carving out each individual wrinkle of flesh, is astounding. The stance the stone creature is frozen in comes off much more threatening than the regal intensity she might have expected, and it seems to her a counterintuitive choice of décor, but one the artist in her wholeheartedly approves of.

Propping her bike up against the stairs she crouches in the shadow of the gargoyle to get a better look. Organic shapes like vines encircle the beast, so lifelike that feels compelled to touch, as if they might fall away under her fingertips. Just as she reaches out however, the front doors of the library swing open and a stout, middle-aged man rushes out.

“Don’t- who- don’t touch that! It’s- it’s not-“ he stammers. “It’s an antique. Very breakable.”

The man is well-dressed, but his head of yellow hair is mussed to one side, like he’s just woken from a nap, enforced by the wrinkles he anxiously tries to smooth out of his vest. His eyes are a shocking shade of spring green.

“Sorry?” Soso offers, still recovering from the fright. She pulls her hand back guiltily and he seems to relax. How fragile could something made of stone be, she wonders, that he would work himself up into such a state over it. “Uh, is this the library?”

The man finishes straightening himself out before he responds. “That’s what you’re here for? Books?”

“What else?” she asks. His eyes remain narrow with scrutiny, so she adds, “Books on mythology. It’s for a school project. I heard… I am in the right place, right?”

There’s a copper plaque by the door that reads “North Ensfield Public Library”, but at this point she’d be as willing to accept that she wandered into a random person’s front yard, for how he looks at her. After another awkward pause, the man turns back towards the entrance and gestures for her to follow.

“Sorry about that. I don’t see many regular patrons anymore, not for a while now. Pardon the mess.” He speaks quickly, not leaving any room for interruption.

There isn’t much mess to pardon, not really. In fact, the shelves look well organized, if a bit dusty, and the space isn’t as cramped or cluttered as she had expected from the outside. A certain saying about books and covers comes to mind, but she doesn’t think her host would appreciate the joke. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see many people if he acts this way with everyone. Soso bumps into a table and nearly upsets what seems to be a pyramid assembled from various glasses, topped with an upside-down teapot.

“Do you live here?” she asks before she can curtail her curiosity.

“I’m a librarian,” he answers. “This is a library.”

“Right, but that doesn’t…” she fumbles.

“Do Canadians not live in Canada? Do Norwegians not live in Norway?”

“Vegetarians don’t live in vegetables,” she counters.

He considers that. “Well-played.”

Soso laughs despite herself and, to her surprise, things seem to go more smoothly after that. She continues speaking with the librarian and learns that his name is Surehouser, though if there’s a first name attached to that one, she doesn’t catch it. He’s certainly as eccentric as the rumors had led her to believe, but he seems harmless, and quite frankly more than a little lonesome. She doesn’t know how a person could be anything else, living like this.

He’s not friendly or unfriendly; his words have a measured quality to them, as if he’s afraid of saying too much. Soso gets the impression, as the sole carer for this seemingly ancient place, his occupation is more out of a sense of obligation than a passion for literature. He looks the part of the academic for sure, down to the silver that threads through his hair and the half-moon reading glasses folded in the front of his shirt, but his eyes track her as she browses like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who actually wants to check out a book.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” he asks after she’s been at it for a while.

She doesn’t want to admit that not only is she not sure, since it’s not really her class she needs it for, but that whatever organizational system is in place here is totally incomprehensible to her. “Anything you have should be good.”

Which is how she ends up checking out way more than she meant to, sending up a tiny prayer that her comparatively tiny backpack can rise to the occasion. Surehouser gives her a look like he knows what’s going through her head as he leads her to the front desk. There’s no computer in sight, just a leatherbound book of names and dates and a thick rubber stamp.

“On my way out, would you mind if I took some pictures of that statue you have out front? For my project.” She adds that last part as an afterthought, then regrets it right away. She’s a notoriously terrible liar and the more she enforces the threads of this pointless story she’s weaving, the more awkward she feels.

He frowns and says, more to himself than to her, “I always thought that old thing was a bit gaudy myself. I’d have gotten rid of it ages ago if I could.”

Something about the way he says it strikes her as strange. Not knowing how to respond, she simply says, “I don’t know, I think it’s cool.”

He laughs. Or, she thinks that’s what it is. The sound is gentle but rusty at the edges. “I suppose you would. Feel free to do whatever you want, only do not touch it, and be careful.”

She walks down the stone steps, her haul unexpectedly light on her back, and pauses to look at the gargoyle once more. The light isn’t any good right now, but she’ll be back.

“See you later,” she tells it.

Sure enough, the next day she’s back. She hadn’t actually planned to be such a regular, but she’d been unable to keep the place from her mind, and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Carmen had looked about to cry when Soso showed her the books she’d picked out. The ones she didn’t need for her paper, Soso decided to flip through herself and had found herself more invested than she’d counted on. The book on obscure pagan deities she’d selected, though dense and confusing in places, was particularly interesting. Before she knew it, she was finished, and thus had the perfect excuse to go back.

“This guy kinda looks like you, don’t you think?” She holds the page open so that the gargoyle could “see” it. Despite arriving at noon on a Wednesday, the library seems to be truly closed today and no amount of knocking had managed to change its mind. Since she’d already come all this way, she figured she might as well find some other way to entertain herself before heading home.

“The horns are all wrong, but the general look is there. He could be, like, your second cousin,” she tells the statue.

The statue doesn’t respond, obviously, but Soso likes talking to it regardless. She adjusts her position so she can keep reading while keeping the book within its line of sight. When it’s time to leave, she turns to it and says,

“Keep an eye on that guy who runs the place for me. He’s weird, and should really keep more regular hours, but he’s nice, and I think being alone out here is making him a little…” She makes a spiraling motion with her finger. “Guess I’m not one to talk though. I’m chatting with a hunk of rock.”

She doesn’t stop though. Maybe it’s the boredom, maybe it’s something just fundamentally Soso, but whatever the reason, she keeps coming back. Partially for the library, yes, and for the company of the strange librarian that dwells within, but primarily to have a quiet place to vent her frustrations and speak her mind, where often the only one around to judge is one who’s incapable of talking back.

Surehouser is an acquired taste, and they don’t have much in common, but he never turns Soso away on the days when her visits magically coincide with the hours of operation. He always seems to have snacks on hand and is content to let the young woman ramble on about whatever latest subject has caught her interest, which as much as she could ask of anyone really. He still speaks frustratingly little of himself, but she believes she’ll get it out of him eventually.

She’s moved from taking pictures around the library to breaking out her old sketchbook, sitting on the steps and muttering to the empty air as she tries to map the contours of the stone body before her. She’s always been visually minded, for whatever good it does her.

“My mom keeps calling and asking if I want to come home for the holidays,” she complains, holding her knees to her chest. “And I know that’s months away but if I say yes that means having to see my family in person while they interrogate me about my future. I’m not even sure I have a future.”

She paces around for a minute to work out some pins and needles and brushes back her hair where it’s been falling in her face. Feeling playful, she imagines she can feel the gargoyle’s gaze watching her.

“Oh this? Yeah, I did get a haircut, thank you for noticing. Just a couple inches off the bottom but I think it’s nice.”

She tosses her head. Nestled among her dark hair, a tip of pointed ear pokes out and she worries idly at the cartilage like she used to do when she was younger.

“You noticed that too, huh. I was born with this itty bity point to my ears. They used to stick out when I was a kid. I was kinda self-conscious about it, actually. I dreaded whenever we had a course in school about fairytales because the kids in my class would call me an elf. I started making my mom do my hair so that they were hidden and just, never grew out of the habit I guess.”

The gargoyle is without comment. She smiles.

“I knew you’d understand, dude. Us freaks have to stick together.”

The following week is a flurry of last-minute Halloween preparations. Soso herself hadn’t been planning to dress up, not having anywhere to be other than planted firmly on the couch in front of a horror B-movie marathon, but the other girls insist they decorate, as there’d been whispers in their neighborhood of pranks planned on those deemed not festive enough. According to Carmen, who had become the resident expert on local tradition since she aced her last history test, the custom of shunning those who didn’t partake was almost as firmly rooted as the decorating itself. It stemmed from a belief from ye olden days that the festivities helped to fend off ghosts and goblins and the meddling of the fae on the day when the border between their worlds was the thinnest.

“Wait, do ghosts come from the same place as fae, or do they just, like, carpool here?”

She snorts. “It depends who you ask, but a lot of people around here believe that anything that’s magical or ‘otherworldly’ in origin is technically ‘fae’. Ensfield has a whole history of convoluted fae-based superstitions. Did you know some people still leave out bowls of fresh milk for house spirits?”

“House spirits?”

“Like, brownies.”

Soso nods. “I love having milk with brownies.”

Phoebe pipes up from the kitchen. “I had a girlfriend in high school who left out offerings when she was doing her SATs.”

“Did it help?” Carmen asks. “I’ll try anything.”

Soso is no skeptic, but she’s more inclined to believe that leaving food out overnight will attract more mice than faerie blessings. The sentiment is nice, but it’s hard for her to take comfort in fairytales without remembering her childhood teasing. How much worse could it have been if it had been more than just a joke, if her ears and her daydreaming demeanor were enough to get her labeled as an outsider for life, rather than just for the span of third grade.

“Are you doing anything special for Halloween, Soso?” Carmen asks.

“You mean like leaving out bowls of milk?”

She laughs. “No, like going to a party. You can come with me to Katy’s if you want. It’ll be lowkey.”

Carmen has been making more of an effort to get to know her since she got her those books for her paper, but while Soso appreciates the thought, being a plus-one at a stranger’s party where everyone knows each other from the classes she’s still not attending doesn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“No thanks. Someone’s gotta stay and hand out candy to the trick or treaters, right?”

“Good point. Did you pick up candy?”

“Not yet, but I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t put it off until the night of.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

That is exactly what happened. October 31st finds Soso standing in line with a back of candy under each arm. Their neighborhood isn’t exactly kid-heavy, but better safe than TP’d she figures. She’s nearing the register when a pair of college-age boys stumble in, looking conspicuously red around the whites of their eyes. She sighs inwardly as they wander around, talking just a bit too loud for comfort, and does her best to ignore them even as they get in line behind her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she notices that there is nothing in their baskets except a two-liter bottle of off-brand soda, a box of marshmallow snackcakes, and about four cartons of eggs, each.

It almost doesn’t click for her until she remembers what Phoebe said about the frat bros and their hazing. That paired with it being a night notorious for pranks by idiot teens is enough to get her nervous. After making her purchase she lingers outside the store for a moment and watches as the boys climb into a car and drive away in the direction of the woods.

It might still be a coincidence, they might be heading to some other destination that just so happens to be in that direction as well, but the image of some stupid stoners invading her sanctuary makes her hackles raise all the same. She starts pedaling after them, following just far enough behind so as not to be spotted in the swiftly fading light.