#found an old entry in the diary i was going to use to press some of the petals from the flowers he got me

[manjiroscum]

pregnancy diaries: pancakes

summary: the journey of motherhood is never easy from the first morning sickness to when the water suddenly breaks. such precious yet arduous nine months deserve to be recorded for memories.

character/s: bonten!kakucho hitto

warnings: f!reader, mature language, pregnancy, pregnant sex, implied lactation kink, breeding kink, established relationship, mentions of canon-typical violence, mention of blackmail, mentions of adoption, lots of fluff, use of guns/firearms, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

masterlist

wc: 5.3k

note: this entry is dedicated to kaku's 1#, bby dawn @lalunanymph 💖

MONTH 0: WEEK 2

Dear duckie, 

How lucky are we to be blessed with you? Your father wouldn’t admit it, but I was pretty sure he shed some tears when I broke the news to him. I’ll admit though that I cried more than he did. Your older brother won't stop asking about you and when you will arrive. He even gave you your little nickname. Your family is super happy to have you, darling.

We all can't wait to meet you, baby duckie.

Kakucho’s steady gaze landed on the five-year-old boy sitting by the coffee table. Aoki was unusually silent as if he was scared to death to make a sound as he played with the toy duck he wouldn't let go of since the day you two brought him home from the orphanage. You had a hunch it was because of the new baby. Normally, he would be running around or asking for sweets. Yet, at the announcement of him becoming an older brother, your son barely made a sound. Your husband must’ve had the same idea since he couldn’t stand the silence, approaching the boy in earnest.

“Aoki,” Kakucho spoke in a gentle tone, his hand gesturing for the boy to come hither. Heart slightly pounding, you watched from the kitchen counter, hands frozen. Your gaze is on the scene unfolding in front of you. Ever since Aoki entered both of your lives, you never wondered what would occur if another addition was added to your little family. It was always three chairs in the dining room and you thought it would be that way forever—until the trip to the clinic said otherwise. Surprising as it was, you and Kakucho were ecstatic. However, the slight doubt of Aoki accepting this sudden change was looming above your head along with the joy you felt at that moment.

Luckily, Kakucho was there to ease it away by pressing a kiss on top of the boy’s head. “Aoki, can I ask you a question?” Upon hearing his dad’s words, your son then nodded softly. You found yourself holding your breath as your husband continued. “Are you… scared that the new baby will replace you?”

S-so blunt!

You bit your lower lip, hands resuming cleaning the cabbage as you relied on your sense of hearing. Aoki was probably stunned at his father’s question, yet dared not to make a sound other than to hesitantly nod his head. Kakucho then sighed and reached up to rub his head affectionately. “Why? There’s nothing to be scared of,” he said with a small smile, never ceasing his actions to comfort his son. “There’s no way your mom and I will replace you—you’re our son, our Aoki. That will never change. The new baby is your sibling and will be a part of us, too. And we will love you and the baby the same way. We’re family, remember?”

Perhaps Kakucho’s trait of being straightforward and using a direct way of asking had helped your son in some way because Aoki was nodding eagerly now at what he had just said, and the smile returned to his adorable face. 

“Okay… Can we name the baby ‘duckie’, Papa?” The surprise on both of your faces disappeared as soon as Aoki hugged his toy and adorably grinned. “Duckies are cute, and the baby must be cute. Right?”

Kakucho chuckled and patted his head, nodding along. “Of course. You both are.” Kakucho then took the chance to tickle the boy, hoping it would make the rest of his doubts disappear. Much to your satisfaction, laughter graced the house once more and all was well.

MONTH 1: WEEK 4

Dear tiny duckie, 

Your brother is often asking about you. I can’t wait to take photos of you two together. Your papa and I also can’t keep our excitement from showing. My stomach is slightly bloating now, which reminds me that I must buy new clothes. I feel emotional sometimes whenever I think about you growing inside me. I guess this is how pregnancy can mess with hormones, but it’s alright. Please grow healthy and sound, duckie.

We love you to the moon and back, my little duckie!

“Mama, I can’t hear anything,” Aoki whispered with his ear against your stomach. “Is duckie alright?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at his eagerness. Your answer was about to slip past your lips until your gaze landed on the ticking clock on the wall telling you that it was late. Kakucho was still not home. Worry etched your features at the thought of him fighting or possibly doing something risky. While the figures he earned from dirtying his hands in Bonten were enough to sustain your family, there were times when you wished your husband had a different job.

Aoki followed your line of sight and then frowned. It was already ten in the evening. Typically, his father would be home at this hour or earlier to tuck him in. However, Kakucho wasn't.

“Mama, I don’t wanna sleep yet. Wanna wait for Papa.”

At the boy’s statement, you sighed prior to pinching his cheek gently. Knowing this would happen, you shook your head. “No, Aoki. You know you have to wake up early tomorrow because you have school.” He pouted in defiance, still not wanting to yield and go to bed. Holding your ground, you stayed quiet. After a staring contest that lasted only a minute, Aoki gave up and got off the couch. Following suit, you headed to his bedroom right after turning a few lights off. Despite his protests earlier, your son was yawning as soon as his back hit the mattress.

“I know you want Papa to tuck you in, but he’s busy with work. How about I read you a bedtime story, mhm?” You sat on the edge of his bed, eyes scanning the picture books by the nightstand. “How does that sound?”

“Yes, Mama,” Aoki responded softly. His hands pulled up the blanket up to his nose, eyes sparkling as he waited for you to begin. With a fond smile, you grabbed the book entitled Kintaro’s Adventures and flipped to the first page. A few pages later, Aoki was now fast asleep. You set the book down and pressed a kiss on his forehead, about to leave when the bedroom door creaked open. In came Kakucho, his dual-colored eyes scanning the area until his sight landed on you and the sleeping boy.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kakucho mumbled after he closed the distance between you both. You shook your head dismissively, offering him a kiss on the cheek. Your husband chased after your lips which earned him a stifled giggle. “I’ll make sure to be early tomorrow and tuck him in.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home, love.”

MONTH 2: WEEK 7

Dear baby duckie,

Mama is feeling more tired lately. I could definitely say I am pregnant now. Morning sickness is worst than ever and I could feel the changes. But I am happy to hear from the doctor that you’re doing fine. I don’t care what happens to my body as long as you’re healthy. Your papa and I are happy to hear that at this stage, your heart has formed. We can’t wait to hear it.

Continue to grow well, my baby duckie.

Manjiro’s sleepy eyes fell on your form, brow raised at your presence. You stood up and gave him a short bow in acknowledgment. He wasn’t expecting you to be here, sitting in the office lobby. Kakucho was just finishing his meeting in the other room, leaving you all by yourself. This did not sit well with Bonten’s leader, especially since he knew you were pregnant. The organization’s headquarters may be a symbol of fear to those who knew, yet within, betrayal could occur anytime. Manjiro would be caught dead rather than leave his pregnant wife all alone. What was his third-in-command thinking?

“What… are you doing here?” he asked, perplexed on whether to head for his meeting or to accompany you until Kakucho comes. Maybe Sanzu can entertain those bastards while he waits with you. “It’s not safe to be here all on your own. I was sure Kakucho knew that.” 

“Don’t worry, Mikey. Kakucho is almost done. He and I are going to pick up our son from kindergarten, you see.” Taking a seat once again, you sheepishly gestured down the hall. “I’m fine on my own, honest. I don’t want to inconvenience you…” you trailed off when Manjiro took the seat beside you. Perhaps the rumors of the great Sano Manjiro only caring for himself held no truth at all. Then again, if that were true, his wife wouldn’t be gushing about him all the time during parties.

“I can wait. As I said, it isn’t safe.”

But damn, you found it so hard to fill in the awkward silence that enveloped the lobby. To count on Mikey to lead the conversation was a hopeless cause for he did not know what else to say. Thankfully, Kakucho was now walking towards you. His stoic face morphed into one of surprise with a mixture of shame. He did not expect his leader to accompany his wife, let alone play bodyguard. The Haitani brothers will never live this down if they would find out. Quick to be by your side, Kakucho’s stonehard facade fell as he regarded his boss with a sheepish look.

“Mikey, I’m sorry—”

“No need for an apology, Kakucho.” Manjiro stood up from the couch, hands in his pockets. “Just be careful next time. Can’t have meaningless trouble.” With that said, Bonten’s leader sauntered off. The two of you stood there for a moment, unsure of what just occurred. You were the first to break the silence, giggling as you poked your husband’s side. Kakucho exhaled aloud, his hand over his heart. Then, his lips broke into a relaxed grin.

“Were you scared, love?”

“Of Mikey? Of course not. It’s just that, for a second there I thought he was gonna fuckin’ berate me,” Kakucho muttered. His hand was placed behind your back as you two headed for the elevator. “He’s been… acting weird since his wife gave birth. But maybe I deserve it. I shouldn’t have really left you in the lobby, safe or not.”

“Why? I was fine on my own,” you reasoned and leaned against him. The warmth he exudes is comforting. “Besides, I think Mikey was just looking out for us.” For emphasis, you rubbed your stomach. Your husband saw and understood what you meant, earning a small laugh from him. 

“I guess so. That's typical of him.”

MONTH 3: WEEK 9

My baby duckie,

Your uncles are so sweet. Maybe a little too much that your papa ends up saying the strangest things. I hope you will understand once you're grown up that him being protective is just his way of saying he loves you. The doctor said you're about the size of a strawberry now. You're so tiny, duckie. I wish I could hold you in my arms and make memories soon. 

Papa and Mama love you so much, our sweet duckie. 

If Kakucho were to be asked back then what he thought of Sanzu Haruchiyo, the word annoying would always be a staple term. Not only was the man cockblocking him, but Bonten’s number two had the nerve to be snoring away on the couch like it was his own home. Today was supposed to be a rest day, one where Kakucho could relax and spend time with his family—perhaps even have alone time with you, granted that Aoki was in school. However, the presence of Sanzu in the house put a halt to that wish of his. Fate just had to tease Kakucho because out of all days, you were in the mood and ready to jump him if given the chance. But of course, you couldn't due to Sanzu's surprising visit.

What was the man doing here again? Kakucho couldn't remember. His attention was solely on his phone, hoping that Ran or Rindou could pick up the drunk Sanzu Haruchiyo and take him home. If Sanzu continues to let out loud snores for another minute, Kakucho fears he’s going to lose his mind. 

Thankfully, after thirty minutes of waiting, the Haitani brothers finally arrived to take Sanzu off of Kakucho's hands. You got out of the bedroom, a silk robe around your pajama-clad form. Silently, you watched as Rindou nudged the pink-haired man awake. Ran clicked his tongue at the scene and folded his arms across his chest. Sanzu, despite snoring so much, wasn't a heavy sleeper and woke up without a hitch. He staggered as he stood up, rubbing his eyes before glaring at the sunlight that flooded the living room.

“Mornin’ already?”

Ran couldn't help but roll his eyes while helping Sanzu stand up. “See, this is why your wife kicked you out of your own home, Sanzu. You keep getting blackout drunk.” Rindou snickered at his brother’s remark as he aided the other. “You should stop challenging Koko in that rigged drinking contest and go straight home to your family. You’re so fucking pathetic right now. If I were your wife, I’d divorce your ass if you keep doing this.”

Sanzu managed to scoff, “No need to fear. I won’t marry your high-maintenance ass, Ran. Even if Mikey pays me to do it, I’d rather shoot myself.” Those clear blue eyes that were usually sharp and calculating landed on you, his lips breaking into a silly grin. “The lady here could probably say the same thing.”

Ignoring Ran’s irritated quips, Kakucho turned to give you an apologetic look which you dismissed with a shrug. You excused yourself and left for the bedroom, feeling a bit dizzy. Everything went smoothly up to the point where the brothers got past the front door. Apparently, Sanzu hasn’t thanked Kakucho and you for your hospitality. Well, forced hospitality was the more definite term, Kakucho thought. Yet, instead of feeling some sort of relief that the annoyance was gone, your husband returned to your side with furrowed brows. Your lips were about to form a question when he knelt and kissed the bump on your stomach, veiny hands caressing the skin there. 

“That bastard,” Kakucho grumbled to himself while stroking your tummy. If you didn’t know any better, your husband was slightly stressed out at what occurred. You stayed silent for a moment, waiting to hear what caused it. “There’s no way I’m letting that fucking happen. I’d shoot him and the Haitanis twice before I let them inside here again.”

Now alarmed, you sat up straight. “What happened?” you inquired and then winced at the scenario brewing in your mind. “Don’t tell me… Sanzu vomited all over the entrance?”

Kakucho exhaled. “Worst. Ran was on his usual tirade when Sanzu commented on how he will thank us. I told him all was fine, but he just had to say he will have his son marry our baby if it turns out to be a daughter. The brothers, of course, did not back down and did the same.” His eyes shot up in an accusatory way when you burst out laughing. “Love, it isn’t funny. Can you believe them? If my baby is indeed a girl, there’s no way I’m letting that happen! She hasn’t even gotten out of the womb and now she’s getting marriage proposals. Of all the fucking things…”

MONTH 4: WEEK 15

My duckie,

We got a new sonogram today. Can you believe it? We’re getting a baby girl? Your papa is so excited. He could barely sleep a wink these past few days. Your uncles are even buying toys and clothes for you now. Your big brother couldn’t contain his joy as well. He hopes you’ll start kicking soon. Personally, I’m a bit afraid once that happens. The doctor did assure me it wouldn’t hurt as much as I was told. But if it means that you’re healthy and active, I won’t mind. Kick all you want, darling.

To our baby girl, duckie, we love you.

The warm bathwater was lulling you to sleep, but as soon as Kakucho entered the bath, he went straight to keep you busy. His sturdy arms kept you caged in, scared you might fall backward and hit your head as you bounced on his cock. The soapy water sloshed around with each rapid movement. Holding your breasts, you relied on nothing but biting on your lips to prevent moans from slipping past them. Aoki’s bedroom was far away, yet you shouldn’t get carried away. The last thing you wanted was for the poor child to hear you or Kakucho cursing.

“Love, c-cum inside, please,” you whined softly. Reaching your hand down to caress his face, you leaned closer to kiss his scar. Kakucho was certain he could knock you up again with another child. With a low grunt, he thrust his hips up to meet you halfway. Moaning out his name, you held onto him tightly as you chased your high. Your husband sunk his teeth into your left shoulder to muffle his groans. His cock twitched inside you before it spurted a huge load of hot milky semen into your creamy pussy.

“Love you,” Kakucho whispered against your skin and pressed a chaste kiss on the area where he bit. “And thank you… for giving me another one to love. You’re so amazing.” You lifted his head by the chin and pressed your foreheads together while humming in contentment. The bathwater had turned lukewarm. It was a sign to move this to the bedroom and continue from there. 

“I love you, too. Always.”

MONTH 5: WEEK 18

My darlin’ duckie,

I, somehow, felt you move inside my tummy. It almost felt like I had butterflies in my stomach. There are times when I get too dizzy, but for you, I can handle anything. Your big brother made cute drawings of us while he was in school. I’m going to hang some of them in your room once your papa is finished with the furnishing. 

Four more months my duckie! We’ll see you soon.

“You doing okay, love?”

Kakucho looked more out of breath than you are. He did run all the way from the kitchen up to your shared bedroom when you suddenly called out his name out of fear that you couldn’t breathe properly. Shortness of breath was considered normal when you’re pregnant. Your beloved husband was quick to assist you out of bed, gently aiding you to the bathroom when you vocalized your urge to pee. Now, sitting on the toilet, you scratched your arm sheepishly at Kakucho never leaving your side. What you did gave him quite a scare.

“I’m alright, love. Honest.”

“Just tell me whenever you feel some sort of pain, ‘kay?” Kakucho let out a long exhale and leaned against the doorway. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that things of the unexpected will become frequent in the following months to come. Kakucho was a worrywart despite denying this fact. Although it was normal to worry, his way was on a whole other level. Once you did your business and washed your hands, he was quick to be on your side while you descended the stairs. His strong and ever-present arm either wrapped around your waist or shoulder.

“I said I’m fine, Kaku.” you insisted for the fourth time today. Your husband shook his head and sat down next to you on the couch. At this hour, he would be off to where Bonten needed him. It would not come off as a surprise if his phone will start blowing up due to endless calls from his colleagues, hoping to know where he is. The television was playing a commercial for powdered milk for babies, your attention elsewhere, when Kakucho laid his head down on your lap. 

“Wake me up if you ever need anything, love. Okay?”

Shooting him a glance and an assuring smile, you focused on the drama now playing on the screen. Your husband couldn’t help but snort playfully. Just as you were about to let out a disappointed remark at the drama’s sudden plot twist, you caught yourself from making a huge noise for Kakucho was indeed fast asleep on your lap. Silently, you pressed two of your fingers onto your lips and then pressed them against Kakucho’s.

MONTH 6: WEEK 23

Baby duckie,

I hope you are doing well inside my tummy as I’m writing this. There is no denying that you are indeed your father’s daughter. You’re so active, always kicking during the evening that I get surprised. I supposed that’s just your way of saying you’re here or that you don’t like the meal I just ate. Sorry dear, but we can’t be picky with our food. We can’t always eat pancakes every morning no matter how delicious your papa makes them.

I hope you learn to like vegetables, my precious girl.

A groan escaped your mouth while fixing your shirt, making sure there wasn’t any stain on sight or any incriminating evidence that your nipples were toyed and sucked on. The culprit, Kakucho, emerged from the bathroom, the corners of his lips curled up at what occurred seconds ago in the privacy of your bedroom. Your innocent son was babbling Rindou’s ear off in the living room, too focused on the children’s show playing on the television to see Ran wiggle his brows as soon as the two of you joined them. Who knew your husband could go feral upon finding out that your breasts have begun to produce milk for the baby? In fact, it should only be for the baby. Kakucho never fails to surprise you when you least expect it. You just hope he won’t get any funny ideas of doing it again once the baby is out.

The baby needs her milk too…

“Isn’t it too early to be having fun?” Ran joked. Your husband rolled his eyes at the older Haitani’s attempt. You, on the other hand, paid no mind to it. Instead, you shifted your full attention to Aoki. Ran’s second attempt to get a laugh got cut short due to the stuffed toy Rindou threw at his face. Aoki saw this and giggled. Whether he was planning on getting back at Rindou or not, Ran sat up straight as soon as he saw Kakucho shoot him a pointed stare.

“Are you guys gonna eat breakfast or not?” Kakucho inquired before grabbing an empty plate to place pancakes on. The Haitanis weren’t here to merely visit your family or to play with Aoki. Contrary to what they told your son, the brothers were here to pick up your husband for an important meeting with the entire higher-ups of their organization. And that they wanted to eat pancakes made by Kakucho, stating that they missed the taste of it.

While the brothers and your son sat at the dining table, you watched over the other pancakes still on the pan. Your mouth watering at the sight of the leftover mixture in the bowl, tempted to swipe it and finish the batter if your husband wasn’t looking. Kakucho must have sensed your craving as he immediately grabbed the bowl and poured the last of its contents into the pan. Lips in a pout, you flipped the other pancakes whereas Kakucho took out those that were cooked.

Making sure Aoki and the troublesome Haitanis were caught up on something else, Kakucho leaned forward to press a kiss against the side of your head. Caught off guard for a second, you then playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Your free hand instinctively covers your breasts from his view like he was some starved beast just waiting to bite them. With one brow raised, your husband was seconds away from asking why you were maintaining distance when Ran let out a childish cry unfit for a thirty-year-old man.

“Uwah! Mommy and Daddy, I’m hungry! Stop flirting already,” he whined in the most high-pitched tone he could reach. Rindou and Aoki wore the same expression of disbelief, yet the former had a combination of shame. If Rindou could dig a hole and bury himself, now was the perfect time after what his older brother just pulled off. Thankfully and much to Haitani Ran’s lucky stars, Aoki just laughed afterward. Judging by the unamused look on Kakucho’s handsome face, he was ready to drag Ran’s sorry butt out of the house.

He had to take the burnt months ago when Aoki got curious about how babies were made. He didn’t want that to happen again.

Above committing any form of violence in front of his son, Kakucho resulted in leaning down to whisper into Ran’s ear with a false smile on his face, “Better behave or you’re not eating anything except my fist.”

MONTH 7: WEEK 26

My precious duckie,

One day, you will learn about your papa’s job. Although it is complicated, I hope you shall learn to understand it once you’re older. Days where it seems like everything will go wrong pop out of nowhere once in a while. Your papa and I promise to keep you and your big brother safe. Safe and sound, out of harm’s way. That is what we will always prioritize.

I love you so much, duckie. You and your brother mean the whole world to me.

To step into danger or defend himself against it has been Kakucho’s bread and butter. He didn’t exactly choose this life. It was just how it was for him ever since his parents died and someone admirable took him in when no one else would. No matter how many times he has fallen, Kakucho never failed to stand up again and face the hurdles the universe has in store for him—whether he liked it or not.

As a father and someone who has a family to protect, being a high-ranking member of Bonten had more cons than the perks it had to offer. There were days he mulled over the thought of quitting. But of course, that option was never there, to begin with. To quit was to kill that part of himself, one he has known all his life. Plus, multiple enemies would have his head if he didn’t choose a side. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t growing tired of the numerous endeavors of his enemies trying to have his head on a silver platter. They have grown more creative this time and decided to send a death threat by calling the telephone situated in the living room.

Kakucho thought he was going to burst a vein that night when he took the telephone from Aoki. Thank goodness the boy wasn’t able to speak into it or your husband would be out tonight, ready to find the fuckers. Still, Kakucho was not pleased with what transpired. Soon, the small closet that was filled with old newspapers and knickknacks became the hiding spot of his firearms.

“S-shouldn’t we move?” you asked him one night, unable to sleep due to your feet cramping. Kakucho’s hands may be busy with alleviating your pain, but his mind was racing with countless ideas on what he shall do to the careless idiots who dared to call through that telephone. Kokonoi does have him on speed dial. The sooner Koko and Rindou trace them, the better. He didn’t want you to be worrying like this, especially when a baby was on the way.

“No, don’t get your pretty head all worked up on this, love,” he reassured you with a squeeze to the thigh, offering you his best comforting smile. “Those bastards should’ve known better than to threaten me. They won’t know what I’m capable of until they wake up with their asses in the fuckin’ air.”

MONTH 8: WEEK 29

Sweet little duckie,

A couple more weeks to go and you’ll be here. Everyone is excited that it feels like it’s Christmas day. Your papa finished your room a few days ago. All that’s missing is a bubbly baby girl. Your papa felt you kick multiple times last night yet he couldn’t get used to it. He even said that once you grow up, he’ll have you take judo lessons alongside your big brother. The doctor told me to cut back on sugar. I’ve been craving a lot of things lately that it scares your papa sometimes. However, the doctor did say you’re very healthy so I’ll gladly stir away from sweets to keep it that way.

Looking forward to holding and kissing you, my love.

The movie was over and the credits roll on the screen. Aoki was fast asleep on the sleeping mat laid out on the floor. The bowl of popcorn is empty save for the kernels that failed to pop while in the microwave. The homey atmosphere was too lulling for you or Kakucho to get off the couch and turn the television off. His strong arms were around you, hands caressing your round stomach. Your head rested against the crook of his neck, eyes closed. Saturday nights were usually like this—the whole family in the living room to watch a film you all take turns in choosing. Tonight, it was Kakucho’s turn and of course, he picked a film that was packed with action and adventure. Aoki, despite saying he will finish the movie, ended up falling asleep before the story reached its climax. You, on the other hand, opted to sit on Kakucho’s lap for no reason.

“She’s kicked a lot, huh?” Kakucho couldn’t help but chuckle at his active daughter. Your response was a small groan. It was no joke that your feet hurt, especially now that they were red and swollen. Your baby was getting heavier, a sign that her due date was drawing nearer and nearer. The task of taking care of a baby may be daunting to some, but nothing could make your heart rest easy than the thought of delivering your daughter safely. Stretchmarks, late-night feedings, and healing stitches be damned.

“She’s your daughter alright,” you mumbled in an amused tone. Kakucho’s hand stopped stroking your belly to laugh at the statement. “I won’t be surprised if she turns out to be rowdier than Aoki.”

“Fine by me,” he replied and then gave your head a kiss. “I can take care of rowdy children. Besides, that stage of their life won’t last long. Kids grow too fast these days, you know. Too fast.” After saying that last line, Kakucho patted your tummy. “Might as well enjoy it, love.”

“Are you… being sentimental right now, Kaku?”

MONTH 9: WEEK 38

Our baby duckie,

I love you, my baby. No amount of joy could be put into words in some cases. According to the doctor, you may come out in a few days. I’m not going to lie… I’m a bit afraid. Mothers whom I’ve met at the clinic seem to express the same feeling when asked about giving birth. I promise to be strong, stronger than I’ve ever been, for you. For our family.

All the unconditional love from us, duckie.

“See? I told you, love, you’re stronger than me. She’s so beautiful, as beautiful as you.”

“She is. She has your eyes, Kaku…”

Kakucho shed a tear or two as the nurse handed him his newborn daughter whom she swaddled in pink cloth. Your daughter ceased fussing the second she was in his arms, perhaps knowing it was her papa holding her now. Your lips should be hurting after smiling so much at the precious scene unfolding in front of you, yet there was no pain present. There was only happiness. Kakucho looked so soft as he cradled his daughter, sitting himself down to pull out his phone and call Ran. While waiting for the older Haitani to pick up, you could just picture Aoki at home, bouncing in elation. The image of your son and daughter growing up together made your heart full, especially with your loving husband by your side.

taglist: @bunnyjiros @chronic-claire-universe @wakaslut @ranilingus @eroscastle @tobidabio @zuuki @chloee0x0 @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @keijisprettygirl @r-oronoa @marism @stffychn @riszu @tokyometronetwork @festive @renxnana @kurumi-4

[newtonian-tragedy]

Thoughts on The Sensorium of God

Firstly, the tagline ("Sparks of genius—the momentous clash between Isaac Newton and Robert Hooke") is a bit misleading. While the book does indeed cover the timeline between Newton's work on the Principia all the way up his Presidency, the conflict with Hooke is actually not even the focus of the story.

Although there is a wide cast of familiar characters, the attention divided between them is unequal. The premise starts with Halley as the main protagonist and Newton and Hooke as the deuteragonists, but as it progresses it mainly flips back and forth between Newton and Halley's perspectives, with Hooke's presence dwindling more and more after Grace's death until he becomes demoted to a minor background character.

Despite being limited to supporting characters, certain other philosophers like Flamsteed and Leibniz get a satisfying amount of screentime, with even a scene here and there featuring Fellows like Wren, Papin, and Pepys, and even a whole chapter dedicated to Locke. But for some reason, Boyle's role was disappointingly brief, limited to a line or two during a clandestine meeting with Newton. Given his connections to both Newton and Hooke, you'd think he'd be featured just a bit more prominently, but alas.

I enjoyed the interactions between Hooke and Grace, even if some of the more sexual scenes came off as incredibly unrealistic and like something out of an adult fantasy story. Without going off into a political rant (I'm by no means a libertarian, but I'm no feminist either, if you must know), even as someone who is largely accepting and sympathetic of Hooke's unhealthy relationship with his niece, it came off as more than a little unbelievable that a 16 year-old (presumably a virgin) who found herself cornered in an uncomfortable situation (presumably for the first time) not only reacted by initiating sexual contact, but did so with the boldness and dexterity of an experienced woman. It just made me roll my eyes. That, and the "first-aid handjob", while kind of sweet, came off as gratuitous.

Considering that both sides of Hooke's affair are explored here—from his sincere caring and protectiveness to his darker fits of jealous rage and emotional manipulation that enshroud the former—it would have been neither unreasonable nor unbelievable to hold Hooke himself responsible for the very same "whorish" behavior that he was all too eager to shame her for. And although Halley may or may not have caught the eye of Grace in real life, it served as a painful reminder that she most likely never returned her uncle's feelings, and that any sexual favors were performed out of a sense of obligation towards her only source of security. What's more, both of the Hookes came off as being burdened with guilt—Grace, for being unable to love her uncle as more than her uncle, and Robert, for his sexual possession of her—which may have explained why the references to their affairs disappeared from the diary after Grace's, well... disgrace involving Robert Holmes. A very complicated relationship, to say the least.

The part about Grace giving her uncle dancing lessons just hours before she died really hit me in the feels, and I'm certain it was inspired by the couple of diary entries that mentioned "dancing shoos" (although those were from a whole decade before her death).

It was overall an enjoyable read that felt like a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Several of the men fostered mutual grudges against one another, but I found that my sympathy for Newton waned to nearly nothing by the end of the book. If you thought he was an asshole in life, you'd be right, but the author's added interpretation of his motives crank the cuntery up to eleven here. Even worse is how Halley is treated.

Granted, there are more pressing complications that arise in Halley's life that originated with the death of his father, but the reward for his unwavering faith and loyalty in Newton is not only to be used thanklessly (and on one occasion is outright insulted) by him, but to be caught in the crossfire of retaliation from what had once been mutual friends of theirs—particularly his mentor Flamsteed, with whom, to be fair, he'd always shared a precarious relationship with. Even as the hero of the story, Halley really has it tough, getting screwed left and right throughout.

Newton being portrayed as a closeted homosexual is done in a largely believable way, but it doesn't really change much. If anything, Fatio becomes the more tragic and sympathetic figure of the two, although the reason for Newton throwing him under the bus was to protect himself from having his secret exposed (and it's not the one you'd assume). I will say though, that I particularly enjoyed the idea that the justification for Fatio later being involved in the French cult was due to the influence of Newton's religious delusions spreading like a contagion. Were this actually the case, I would not be a bit surprised.

Newton's hypocrisy also shines through here on more than one occasion, a notable example being how he looked down on Flamsteed, refusing to acknowledge the other man as his peer despite his theory relying heavily on the latter's astronomical observations. Say what you want about how Hooke openly relegating mathematicians to builders as philosophers were to architectures, but the parallel here is clear enough that you'd think Newton would feel ashamed to agree with Hooke's hierarchy.

In the end, Newton is a manipulative karma-dodging bastard who leaves behind a plethora of ruined lives in his wake. In other words, not all that different from reality.

That said, however, I still highly recommend this book to anyone who is even remotely interested in the history of Newton and/or his contemporaries. While the narrative is mostly based on what actually happened, it is almost seamlessly interwoven with a few artistic liberties and fictional events—none of which alter the outcome in any major way. Chief among them is the spymaster Winslow, a character whose sole existence in-universe is to torment poor Halley and keep him on his toes, but he also manages to drive the plot forward and bring everything together in the end, which ultimately centers on the theme of Newton's new philosophy being viewed as a threat to religion and government.

[hanaasbananas]

this was the very first page

Marinette and Adrien are both immortal and somehow, her diary finds its way into a museum exhibit. Of course, the entry they choose to display is one where she's gushing about her first meeting with Adrien. She is never going to live this down.

AO3

An exciting new discovery, this diary, provides us with an intimate look into the courtships between young nobility in the 18th century…

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Marinette stared in disbelief at the plaque in front of her. “Fuck.” 

The universe had it out for her. What other explanation could there be for such cosmic levels of bullshit? It wasn’t her fault that she’d lost her old diary in a building that would later become a historical archive. Really, it was a miracle the diary had survived at all, considering how poorly she’d treated it when it had been in her possession. 

Stepping closer towards the exhibit until her nose was almost pressed against the glass, Marinette swore again under her breath as she read her own words from so long ago.

It seems I have found someone to match my wit at last. Lord Adrien was not at all displeased by my demeanour. In fact, we took several turns around the garden and more dances than is customary for those who are unwed. I can only be glad that the night was warm and the sky dark to hide my blush.

It was highly improper–and the disapproval from those older–ha! Older than him perhaps– was made clear several times. Lord Adrien seemed content to ignore them and so I followed his example and turned a blind eye to them.

I am sure that we will be the topic of much frivolous gossip in many of these ladies tea rooms tomorrow. I however, do not care.That the dull evening transformed into something much more enjoyable with his company is enough to keep me in good spirits. 

Truly, I find myself enchanted by this handsome fellow and pray–perhaps futilely– to meet him again. Whether it will occur naturally or not, there is a strange inclination within me to delay my journey into the countryside and attend more debutante balls, if only to tempt fate so that we may cross paths again. I wonder–is he betrothed to someone or–

Oh! What madness has come over me? 

Good God. Adrien was going to be insufferable about this. It wasn’t embarrassing enough that her old diary had made its way into a museum exhibit, the subject of the entry just had to be immortal too. 

Really, what were the odds?

As if on cue, Marinette’s phone rang, Adrien's name flashing up on the screen. “Oh for–”

“A handsome fellow, you say?” Adrien sounded positively giddy with delight. “My Lady, I never knew you thought so highly of me. I’m honoured!”

“Shut up,” Marinette grumbled, “how did you find out so quickly?”

“I have a google alert set for our old names, I told you this.”

“Right. Why?” 

“Why, for times like this of course!” His voice became strangely echoey as he spoke, and with a sinking heart, Marinette turned around to face him.

Even now, almost three hundred years later, Adrien still had the ability to make her breath catch in her throat. His green eyes sparkled with the same mirth that had enchanted her so long ago. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how casually he dressed, or how untidy he kept his hair, she could always see the traces of nobility that he hadn’t been able to scrub away in the way that he held himself, in his features and the arch of his brow.

She liked that. It reminded her of the night they met. Of how far they’d come, both separately and together in the time since and it was almost comforting to know that some things never changed. 

As she watched, Adrien hung up the phone and came to stand beside her, bumping her shoulder gently. “You should have asked me, you know.” 

“Asked you what?” 

“If I was as…enchanted to meet you as well. It would have saved us a lot of time”

Marinette frowned. “Time? How would it have saved us time? You and I both know we hardly need to save that. Time is the one thing we have an abundance of.And anyway, it’s not like we ever really see each other that often.”

And whose fault is that? A small voice whispered in her mind before she could squash it down. Truthfully, she had entertained the possibility of telling him her feelings many, many times over the years, but had always backed out at the last minute. Though they met infrequently, they had still formed a strong friendship, bonding over their immortality and she always looked forward to meeting Adrien every few years, whether they met sporadically or spent a long time together.

She didn’t want to risk losing him. 

“You know what I mean,” Adrien chided, breaking her out of her thoughts. “What about that decade in Rome? You could have told me then.”

Adrien hadn’t answered her question, she noticed. What had he meant, saved us time? Sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw that he was standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he read the plaque in front of her diary. Her heart twinged at the sight, his pose so similar to the way he’d stood that first night he had asked her to dance.

She could tell him now. The evidence was right in front of them after all, and it wasn’t that strange to believe her feelings had strengthened from that first charming meeting. She could–

Marinette sniffed. “First impressions can change you know.” Coward, her mind whispered. She squashed the thought and continued “you went down in my good graces the moment you tried to rob me the second time we met.”

“Look–” Adrien exclaimed indignantly “how many times do I have to tell you, I was trying something out!”

“You don’t try out being a highwayman–”

“It was all the rage! What else was I going to do?”

“Anything but that! You mmph–” Marinette’s eyes widened as Adrien suddenly shoved a hand over her mouth, cutting her off.

“Shush!” he hissed. “Don’t move.” 

She froze, heartbeat thundering in her ears when she heard it. Footsteps.

“Hello? Is anyone here? The museum is closed!” a loud voice rang out, echoing loudly around them. The footsteps didn’t come any closer, and Marinette was suddenly glad that her diary was displayed in its own alcove that hid them from view. She wasn’t sure she could even move if she wanted to, with Adriens warm hand pressing against her face.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping forward until there was barely a hair's breadth of distance between them when the man turned his torch on, doing a cursory sweep of the room with the light.

Marinette swallowed roughly, meeting Adrien’s gaze. His expression was serious, head cocked to the side as they listened for the security guard. Luckily for them, the man did not seem inclined to investigate further, his footsteps receding back the way he came. For a long moment, neither of them moved, suddenly aware of their close proximity. Adrien’s eyes flicked down to meet hers, his cheeks flushing as he held her gaze for what felt like an eternity before he stepped away, removing his hand from over her mouth.

Exhaling shakily, Marinette fiddled with the strap of her bag. “That was close,” she murmured. “We should have come by in the daytime.” 

Adrien snickered quietly “where’s the fun in that?”

“Anyway,” he continued “in case you’ve forgotten, I was a very good highwayman.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Gesturing to her diary behind the glass, Adrien shot her an exasperated look.

Oh. Oh. 

“We can do that?! I mean…is it really stealing if I lost it and I’m just getting it back? I don’t think so, after all I’m just taking back what belongs to me, and it’s not like I donated my diary or something like that other guy but–”

“Hey.” Adrien grabbed her by the shoulders, surprising her into silence. “Let’s just take it, and you can catastrophize about the morality of it afterwards, alright?”

“Uh…alright.”

“Just so you know, though, I don’t steal things for any old person. You have to be on my list of people I’d steal for.” 

At her surprised look, Adrien shrugged. “What? The highwayman thing was cool but I figured it would be good to have some rules for myself.”

“Oh yeah? And where am I on this list of yours?”

Adrien grinned at her. “My Lady…” he tutted, shaking his head fondly “don’t you know? You’re at the top of my list.”

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

whumptober day three!

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

tws: stabbing mention, torture themes, captivity, creepy whumper, noncon bath mention (nonsexual) (it's all written in a journal so it's more whumpee thinking about the things than them happening in real time)

2100 words

August 16

Whumper doesn’t make mistakes, especially not mistakes as big as leaving random shit in my cell. Everything they do is deliberate, which means that leaving this here had to be for some purpose. And really, it doesn’t take Whumper’s level of intricate planning to know not to leave valuable objects in the cell of your prisoner.

Well. I guess ‘valuable’ is subjective. This journal doesn’t look like much. Maybe twenty bucks at most if they went to Target instead of Walmart. It’s August right now, if I’ve been counting correctly—kids are buying back-to-school supplies. I’ll bet Whumper saw this displayed when they walked in and bought it as some sort of joke. Except, if they were going to make fun of me for this, they would’ve made a big deal about this while they were here. They wouldn’t have left it in the corner for me to find later, but I have a hard time believing it was left here by mistake.

So.

I think it must be for the back-to-school months. It’s for kids. They don’t sell these for adults unless you scour the internet for small businesses, which I can’t picture Whumper doing. And they don’t sell them for kids unless they’re preparing for school.

Still. A shark notebook. With matching shark gel pens. In different shark colors.

Whumper has to be playing some kind of game with me.

I used to journal all the time. Not coherently. I wouldn’t really write very much. I would tape little things in the pages and just write what they were next to them. I was terrified that if I didn’t document everything, there would be nothing left of me when I died. And maybe I was right, because the police haven’t found me and Whumper still has me and really, what confirmation do I have that anyone’s actually looking?

Well, anyway. If anyone at my funeral misses me, they’ll be able to look through catalogs of every receipt I’ve ever gotten. And random concert tickets and pressed flowers. There’s probably some candy wrappers in there too, with little handwriting about where I was when I ate the candy. I didn’t really look through them after putting things in there, but thinking about it now, they probably look cool. I’d actually really like to look back through them.

Maybe this is the game Whumper is playing. I write in this notebook, and they read through, and find out my deepest desires and thoughts, and they try to bribe me for the information they want.

Maybe they think I’ll write the information down right here. I’m not quite that stupid, actually. Still, this is one of Whumper’s games and I know that and I’m interacting with the game anyway, which is stupid. Whumper, if you read this, please don’t try to bribe me with my old diaries. Bribe me with something cool. Like one of those hot tubs where you can control all the individual jets.

This is stupid. Everything I’m writing in here is stupid. I don’t know why I’m doing this.

Maybe it’s the weird human interaction thing. I had a friend who used to tell me that lots of journaling was from people who had no one to talk to, so they talked to the void instead. She thought everyone was lonely. I think she was lonely.

Anyway, Dear Diary, welcome to wherever we are. I don’t actually know the location. I guess we’ll just have to find out.

August 17

Dear Diary,

I’m gonna have to find a better way to open these. I am not a twelve year old girl. “Dear Diary” is awkward, and also a little bit too fun and whimsical of a way to open a journal entry about getting stabbed.

I was stabbed today. If you were wondering. Yay.

And I was waiting to see if Whumper brought this notebook up while we were talking ("talking". lol), and they didn’t. So that’s just going to get ignored, I guess.

Medic might be here soon. They’re not mean in the same way as Whumper. They don’t cause me extra pain on purpose, but they’ve had to stitch me up a couple times, and even if the pain isn’t extra, it’s still painful.

Once I had to get held down while they patched me up. It was within the first few days of me being here. I was stupid, and wouldn’t stay still, because I wasn’t sure if Medic was here to help or hurt or somewhere in between. Some raggedy guy had to hold me down, and I’ve never seen him since. Medic definitely works here of their own free will, but that other guy might’ve been another prisoner. I think I’d actually like to see him again, to talk to if nothing else. Do you know how nice it would be to just have a normal conversation with someone for one day?

And do you know how long it’s been since someone hugged me? I was stabbed today, making that very low on my list of priorities, but it’s still there.

Fuck me. All these fancy shark pens and no erasers or whiteout. Yeah, I’m screwed if Whumper reads this.

August 19

I’ve decided to give up on introductions, because “Dear Diary” isn’t going to fly and I don’t know what else to put.

Anyway, someone was screaming today. I haven’t seen Whumper. I wonder if that’s why. It’s not like I find joy in other people’s pain, but if some stranger is getting tortured and keeping Whumper away from me, then

Well, obviously that’s not a good thing! Still! Because no one deserves to get tortured! I have a moral compass!

But also Whumper terrifies me and if I can go a day without seeing them, well, that isn’t exactly a bad thing, I think.

I was thinking, yesterday, about Caretaker. That’s a name I definitely will not be putting a last name to and probably shouldn’t have ever written where Whumper can read. But she’s looking for me, I think. She must be. She has to know I wouldn’t just disappear off the face of the earth, right? Whumper is good at what they do, but so is Caretaker. If anyone can find me, she can. I’m not sure how, because I don’t even know where I am, but I think she’ll figure it out.

Besides, I’m journaling. That means even if I can’t remember, which happens sometimes, we’ll have a record of what happened!! Well, I’m not actually very good at keeping records. But we’ll know that I was stabbed two days ago. And as of right now while I’m writing this out, we’ll know that it luckily was not deep enough to need stitches.

August 22

Dear Diary,

Cringe culture sucks and “Dear Diary” is a fine way to start these out, I think. I need to stop overthinking this. Introductory greetings to a piece of paper are not my biggest problem right now.

I think the biggest problem is actually that Medic bathed me this morning. Which was weird. For multiple reasons. The biggest one being that I was way grosser than I thought. The bath water was disgusting.

No, actually, the biggest reason it was weird is because my hair is the softest it’s ever been in my entire life. And Medic didn’t want to make small talk and wouldn’t tell me what brand of shampoo we were using. If I ever get out of this place, I’ll never be able to recreate the gorgeous thing my hair is right now.

If I ever get out of this place, Caretaker will smack me in the face with this notebook for not keeping a better record. Okay.

So, yesterday Whumper tortured me. The day before that, Whumper tortured me. The day before that, well, I think we get the picture.

Okay. Maybe a useful piece of information. There’s a window in my cell, and I can see the moon out of it. And I can see some stars, and I recognize the Orion constellation. That has to be helpful somehow, right?

My bones are going to rot in this place. That wouldn’t be helpful even if I could tell someone. Maybe this is actually the purpose of the journal: to remind me that there isn’t a single person I can talk to besides myself.

August 23

Dear DIary,

Yeah, no, the purpose of the notebook is definitely so that Whumper could find things out by reading it. They read it right in front of me this morning. I haven’t felt that awkward since that time my mom read through my text conversations when I was sixteen. And my mom never laughed at me, just sat there uncomfortably. Whumper laughed at everything I wrote.

Word travels fast here, I guess. Whumper hit my arm, Medic came in to patch me up, and apparently Medic had also heard about what I’d written. I already knew Whumper was going to read it, but Medic feels like a violation of privacy. At least they told me the shampoo brand after knowing how badly I’d wanted it. But Medic always has to be pompous and uppity and told me how my journaling looked from a psychology perspective.

(As if they’re smart enough for that. Their job is to sew people up so that a criminal can continue pulling the threads loose. It seems counterproductive.)

Anyway, Medic says I use this as a crutch for escapism. They said I’d write more about what’s actually being done to me if it was a record. They said that the journal would keep me just sane enough for Whumper to keep messing with me, which, okay. I’m trying not to think about that too much, because when I think about it I think it might be working, and that wouldn’t be ideal. I am trying to keep myself completely sane, actually. And it’s working better than Medic thinks.

Medic doesn’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t even know the difference between saw sharks and saw fish.

August 25

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. I was so so so wrong, I knew I shouldn’t have written down things that I wanted, because shit.

Whumper hugged me today.

Whumper fucking. They sat down on the floor of my cell, and they just, like, waited until I stopped shaking and started kind of petting my hair?

They laughed at me, when they were reading that I wanted a hug. But then today they hugged me, and when I started crying they started comforting me. And of course, of course I wanted to walk away, but once again, I can’t remember the last time I was hugged!

Whumper is playing games. It’s not real, and I know that, but it kind of felt real? And shit, Caretaker would be so much better at this than me. Caretaker would not fold just for a fucking hug, but last time someone touched me gently was before I even came here. And Caretaker isn’t here.

And I am tired. Okay? I am tired of getting hit every day for the sake of information that really is not that important to me. And maybe if I gave it to Whumper, they’d let me go, right? We’d figure things out from there, if I just gave them the information.

September 3

Dear Diary,

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for. Whumper is very good at physical torture, and better at psychological games. I can feel myself slipping, and I can’t even do anything to stop myself. Caretaker would be able to hold out, I bet, but I’m glad they’re not here, because I wouldn’t want them to have to. But Whumper was talking to me today, and they said that having one of Leader’s best strategists was more important to Leader winning than keeping their secret a secret. Whumper says that if I give up the information, I’ll go free, which is more valuable than the information.

I don’t really believe them. The fact that they have to try to convince me like this says a lot more than anything coming out of their mouth. But I’m tired. Leader can’t blame me for that. If they wanted me to keep my mouth shut, they would’ve come sooner. And I’m not going to pretend that Whumper has no ulterior motives, but at least they’re up front about it. And Whumper will let me go if I give up, and I am tired of being hurt.

Whumper has started bathing me, rather than Medic. Medic only touches me when I am injured, and their touch is cold and impersonal and I know how to deal with it. Whumper is so so gentle while they massage my scalp with one hand and dig fingers into old wounds with the other. I don’t know how to keep up with this. I’m tired. I don’t want to keep being hurt.

[limitlessgojo]

The More You Know

Warnings: NSFW Content

NSFW Tags: SMUT, Mutual masturbation, Squirting, over-sensitivity, Sex Education, unprotected sex, Bareback, dry humping, First time with Noritoshi, explicit content

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Smut, Fluff, Fem!Reader

NSFW Taglist: @fkngkumiko @gojoussunglasses @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: I tagged this to the best of my ability. As I've already said, minors please DNI with my NSFW works.

Previous Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Next Chapter: Big White Lies

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate.

Chapter 13.5

Utahime Sensei called both you and Noritoshi into her office one afternoon to give you "the talk." She’s aware that both of you are dating.

You and Noritoshi worriedly looked at each other before sitting down, across from her desk.

“There’s no need to be worried. You both haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to check up on the two of you.” She clarified. You both relaxed.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to life on campus so far?”

“Ah, yes I’ve been adjusting well, thanks to everyone who has been helping me here and there. I’ve also grown used to the campus.”

“That’s great to hear. Looks like all of you first years are now settled in. Which brings me to my next question,” She started getting serious. "So, of course I know that both of you are dating. Teachers hear things from other students, it’s natural. Did you both get your parents’ permission to date each other?”

“Ah, yes, my mom and dad both know and said it’s okay for me to date senpai. They’ve been wanting to meet him as well. Next time when we are on break.” You said meekly.

Noritoshi quickly turned to you, eyes widening. Ah, you haven’t told him yet that they wanted to meet him. “They said it’s no big rush. We can do it over Christmas break.” Your voice quieted down.

“My parents have also approved of our relationship, as you know.” He put a hand to your back and spoke comfortingly. As always, your body relaxes under his warm touch. Hearing that made the knot in your chest slightly loosen up.

Utahime looked pleased at that. “That’s excellent to hear. Everything seems to be in order. And, have you both… you know… done "it" yet?"

Your eyes widened, then you flushed red before shaking your head. Noritoshi replied with a soft "No, we haven't." Face just as red as yours, before he forced it down.

The room suddenly felt stuffy and hot. Was this conversation really necessary?

“Ahem,” Utahime cleared her throat. “This is a very important conversation, and I want to make sure that both of you are engaging in consensual and safe sexual practices if you ever decide to do it. I’m aware that both of you are already of legal consenting ages here. That and it’s not uncommon for teenagers in Japan to do such.”

Gosh, just let this pass already, you thought to yourself, utterly mortified.

“So now I’ll talk you through the use of contraceptives and birth control then.” It was a mini sex education class with just the 3 of you.

And the rest of the afternoon was filled with a lot of do’s and don’ts and the explanation of how to use condoms. Noritoshi’s soul was practically leaving his body at the very thought.

“Don’t be shy to ask me for help in buying condoms or birth control pills. I’d rather both of you have safe sexual practices than not.” She ordered sternly.

You both quickly nodded, “Yes sensei.”

“Okay, that should be all. Then off you go.” She ushered you both out of her office, ready to prepare for another faculty meeting later.

After you both left the room, you slowly walked back to your dorm with Noritoshi close behind you. An unspoken agreement hung in the air as you filed into your dorm room.

He doesn’t come over to yours as often as you go over to his room, but he likes it. You’re happy that he doesn’t mind the numerous stuffed toys or fluffy blankets on your bed.

You served him some tea and mochi, not having spoken a word still. He stayed silent as well.

“....” your face was still red. Noritoshi found it almost funny and incredible, how it stayed red for such a long time. He reached out to cup your face.

You leaned into his touch. His hands were slightly cold, taking away some of the heat off your face.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to. For us I mean. Like what we just talked about now. I’m okay if you’re okay with it. Completely.” He stumbled over his words.

You nodded and reached out for a hug, which he gladly gave. Sitting on his lap, cradled in his arms. “I… I’m okay with it. The sex talk was just really embarrassing, but inevitable.”

You shyly looked up at him. He gave a weak smile in return, trying to slow down the blood rising to his face. His ears were still pink though.

"When we are both ready then." He hastily uttered before changing the topic. You giggled. He was more reserved than you expected.

◇◇◇

A week later...

You’ve both taken to reading Kamo no Hotaru’s diary entries together when you were both alone and undisturbed. One evening, during a rare moment of peace when both of you had no schedules, you stayed in Noritoshi’s room, laying on his bed. “Toshi! That entry! It matches our first shared vision together!”

“Right. I noticed that when I browsed over it too. He really…” Noritoshi trails off. You perk up and cuddle into his side, facing back to the diary, “What is it?”

He abruptly closes the book shut, face really red. It was a good thing this was a copy of the original, because of the way he roughly handled it.

Why. “Toshi!!! Lemme see~” you whined, grabbing the book. He couldn’t look you in the eye as he handed you the book. You eagerly flipped through to where you stopped.

Hotaru was describing his fight with his beloved Misaki. “She must have been the woman in my visions then huh.”

Noritoshi buried his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck. You stared at him. His face and ears were on fire. “Toshi, are you not feeling well? Fever?” You pressed a palm onto his forehead. He shook his head and snuggled into your hand. The blush settled down rather quickly.

This guy never fails to cheat with his body temperature huh.

Anyways, going back to the passage.

“Misaki was lovely tonight. She astounds me every single time she fights with those demons and curses. Just the most beautiful sight to behold.”

“Awww, what a dreamy man” you sighed. Noritoshi’s grip on you tightened.

“Tonight was the first night in my life that I was able to hold her so close to me. We went back to the inn and had our baths before going to bed. We only had one futon, since the inn was in some far off and secluded area. It was also full, so we had no choice. We ought to be getting back to the urbanised districts soon. Her hair smelled nice. I can’t forget how her cheeks turned dark red when I undressed her. Her soft mounds under my hands. -

You shut the book, closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out hard against the inside of your cheek. Total silence filled the room for like 5 minutes before you opened it and continued reading,

“I’ve never felt anything softer than Misaki. Every curve of hers was to my liking. Every sound she made was comparable to the voice of an angel’s. She tasted so sweet down below. I never thought I’d be one to have premarital sexual relations, but to hell with it all.”

Noritoshi peeked over your shoulder, arms still wound tightly around you with one eye open, reading the passage together with you.

“I will try to remember in vivid detail how exactly I’ve taken her. It was a rush of the moment sort of thing. She was such a shy thing, covering her eyes as I undressed in front of her.

Only to cry for me to fill her up moments later. I took my time with her, tasting and feeling every bit of her body. Not long after, I made love to her. Her insides were warm and molded perfectly to me.

We both felt like we were melting into each other. Our Crimson bindings out and about, floating around our bodies as we indulged each other in pleasure.

It was worth leaving everything behind, in order to experience this life with her. We had to take great care so as for Misaki to not bear a child as we are still in the midst of fighting battles with demons here and there."

“Damn that guy was desperate for some action.” You said out loud. Noritoshi choked hard on his spit at this. You didn’t even take your eyes off the ancient erotica you were reading as you reached out with one hand to pat Nori on the back.

“Not like they had condoms or contraceptives back then huh. How difficult.” You wondered. “Y/N I-” Noritoshi sputtered. You turned to him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You what…” your eyes trailed down at the movement. All of the sudden there was a pillow on his lap. He turned away, forcing his hard-on to disappear.

Noritoshi was just a very sweet little thing. He was really taken aback with your lack of fluster at the moment.

Whenever he whispers into your ears and holds your hand you blush. He secretly loved nipping at you and playing with your fingers to make your face glow red.

Even when Utahime sensei gave both of you the talk, you looked mortified. But since that day, you seemed to have gained a layer of quiet confidence.

And here you were reading an old smutty diary entry with a straight face.

An unpleasant thought came to his mind as he blurted out, "Have you had any experience at all? With this…. These things?"

Your eyes widened, before you shook your head. "Mmm to be honest none at all. You're pretty much my first everything Toshi. First boyfriend. First kiss. First love. You know."

Noritoshi relaxed. "Me too, you're my first for everything." You smiled at him, moving to hug him before he grabbed your hand to stop you from going further. His other one tightened on the pillow on top of his crotch.

Ah.

You wanted to help him but… Is it too early for the both of you? You wanted to wait for Noritoshi to bring it up. Unfortunately, he doesn't make any moves.

He is still very much a gentleman, politely turning away and closing his eyes whenever you get dressed or undressed in the ensuite bathroom. And really, it did touch your heart at the fact that he was really so sweet with you.

“Toshi, do you want any help with that?” You set the diary down on the side table. He flinched before slowly turning to you.

“Do you not find it disgusting?” He asked weakly.

“Mmmm, not really." You crawled into his lap, your face now slightly pink. You wanted this. You wanted to see more of him, know more about his body underneath the wide and loose fitting clothes.

“If you don’t want me to, that's also okay. Like you said, we have time. This isn’t something to be rushed Toshi."

He looked up at you. Deep down he really wanted this. But he wasn't prepared for it to go this fast. He didn't buy any condoms, lube, or contraceptives for you at all. He still had yet to research on more safe sex practices.

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you. We only talked about this the other day, I hope it's not too fast for you."

"I'm okay as well, no it's not too fast."

"As long as we are both fine with it, then it's okay."

"So… what do you want me to do?"

He turned bright red, not bothering to use his jujutsu to force it away. He wanted his body to be honest with you. "We don't have to go all the way now. Please touch me down... there. I'm clean. Just took a shower before you came in."

You nodded, tossing away the pillow on his lap as you undressed him. There were so many layers of clothing. Your mouth watered in anticipation upon seeing the outline of his erection clearly straining against his clothes.

And the one thing you've been looking forward to seeing. He parted his inner white yukata, revealing his abs and pecs. Holy shit. He is built and defined. With a solid 8 pack of abs, arms with biceps and triceps.

You gulped. Noritoshi stared at your reaction. "You like my body."

"Ah I do. Noritoshi, you're really pretty." You admitted.

Noritoshi shut his eyes and felt the last of his sanity fizzling out. Why aren't you close to him then?

"You took the words out of my mouth, pretty one." He pulled you to his chest, nipping at your ears and neck. He knew all your sensitive spots, easily making your body react to him.

"Toshiii, haa no it tickles" Shaking in his arms, you pressed against him, running your hands down his front.

"Looks like I really don't need to hold back with you." He growled, gripping you tighter.

You hooked your fingers on the waistband of his pants and pulled it down, revealing his length. It sprung up, pretty and already hard.

It was big, long, thick, with veins protruding, and the mushroom-like head was a blushing pink. You stared numbly, wondering how it would ever fit inside of you.

You cautiously fisted him. It was so hot and heavy, twitching in your hands. You pooled spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto the tip of his length, making him glide easier in your hands.

Noritoshi threw his head back at the action, breathing heavily. Small jolts of electricity ran through his body, upon feeling your lips on his chest and neck.

"Angel, it feels much better when you do it. I wanna make you feel good too, please." His voice is deeper than normal, sending shivers down your spine.

He didn't hesitate as he pulled off your top as you nodded. You felt self conscious, covering up your breasts. "No need to hide from me. You're a gorgeous sight for sore eyes." Noritoshi pushed away your arms and sucked on your tits, making you gasp out.

"Toshi."

"Mmmm." He swirled his tongue around your nipples, playfully tugging and sucking on them like they were candy. Your pants and underwear were quickly discarded, leaving you bare.

Cold air hit your entrance, making you tense up. Noritoshi's hands stroked your legs until they settled on your ankles.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmured. You couldn't say no to that. You slowly widened them, inch by inch, the bed creaking underneath you.

He stared at your wet opening, parting your lower lips. It was glistening with slick. He dragged two fingers over them. Sinking in his fingers and groaning at the sensation of your walls. It was hotter and wetter than he expected it to be.

"Here I was, trying to stop myself from losing control over you, only to find out you've wanted me too." He scoffed. You grew more and more aroused at hearing his voice become deeper, just slowly nodding in agreement, unable to speak. The only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and whimpers of his name.

Squelching noises filled the quiet room as he began to experiment with your body. Nothing escaped Noritoshi. He stared at you, watching and analysing your reactions with every curve, push, pull, and movement from his fingers.

Not long after, he found your sweet spot, pressing his fingers eagerly into it. You shivered.

He leaned over to kiss you while slowly fucking you with his fingers. The pressure on your insides made you feel floaty. You reached out to continue stroking him as well, making him tense against you until you slumped against him, head feeling way too hot and dizzy.

He huffed a laugh, “Too much for you angel? It feels good doesn’t it?” You whined at him with a pout, guiding yourself up and down on his fingers. Your voice grew louder when he pulled them out.

"Shh, give me a second." Noritoshi repositioned both of you, so that you were sitting on his lap. Putting some pillows behind him as he leaned against the headboard of the bed.

It was a slightly risky position, he could easily enter you from this angle so you had to push your back against his chest, comforted by his warmth.

"Let me play with you." Who was this man and where was your stoic Toshi? Noritoshi kissed everywhere he could reach, the side of your face, your shoulder, cheeks and neck.

"Come on, rub yourself against me." You felt him smile against your skin.

You took his length and grinded your pussy down on him, slathering your juices onto him. Tears streamed down your face. "Why does it feel so good? Ssss too much."

His hands were cupping and squeezing your breasts, holding you firm against his chest. You could feel the sweat gathering on your back.

Both of your Phoenix marks were glowing a bright red, illuminating both of your features. You reached to clasp his wrist, feeling the warmth seep out from his mark.

Heat. That was the main shared sensation between the two of you. Simply and drunkenly chasing after pleasure. The soulmate bond showed you his inner desires of breeding you, filling you up, pleasing you, and making you content. You felt touched and giddy.

Noritoshi's head is hooked over your shoulder. Mouth watering at the sight of him thrusting against your thighs. The tip of his cock poked up and down between your legs. Your ass was pressing hard against his hips, driving him insane.

You both grinded against each other at a moderate pace. Hiccups and mewls escaped your lips as you drooled.

You tightened your thighs when he sped up his thrusts. Your pussy feels hotter with each passing moment. He was humping you so hard, you started to lightly bounce on his lap.

All you could feel and smell was Noritoshi. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. You've never felt this type of greed over a person before. It scared you a bit.

"Darling, come on me." Noritoshi breathed out huskily against your ear. You shivered, squeezing and crossing your thighs. He softly grunted as he came all over your legs, the cum still hot.

Amazed, Noritoshi watched as you also squirted, spraying all over both of your legs and the mattress. He leaned over to rub your clit more, feeling it spew against his fingers as he put a heavy pressure on it. “Haaah! Toshi, no stop!! It feels so good!” You threw your head back wildly, feeling your legs spasm beyond your control at the touch of oversensitivity.

"Is that a no or a yes?" He nipped your earlobe as he continued rubbing your clit.

"More. Gimme more." You moaned.

He smirked, immediately plunging two fingers into you, pistoning it in and out as fast as he could, while his thumb continuously stroked at your clit. He held you tight as you sobbed his name unabashedly.

A second orgasm violently washed over you, making you shake. He helped you ride it out, by slowing down his movements until you collapsed against him.

It was hard not to fall asleep as you both stopped to catch a breath, but you had to clean up. “Sorry for making a mess.” You turned to face him and frowned upon feeling the stickiness on both of your legs.

His eyes glinted darkly, “No, don’t apologize. We both made a mess. I quite like it.” You hid your smile in his neck at that.

"We can take a quick shower then go to bed if you'd like?" Noritoshi offered.

"Mmm… sounds good."

The shower was quick and pleasant. It was nice to smell like Noritoshi. You happily hummed to yourself as you lathered your arms with his body soap. It smells nice and deep with touches of bergamot and clove.

On the other hand, Noritoshi was having an internal crisis. He just wanted to stuff you full of his cum right there as he helped you bathe, but was determined to wait until you got married to do so.

You went to bed in one of his kimonos after changing his sheets. Noritoshi loves how you look in his clothes and how you smell like him now.

"Thank you…" You whispered.

Noritoshi's body was so warm as he pulled you to him, his lips pressed against your temple. "Mmm, thank you also for trusting me with your body. I feel so relaxed, should we do this more often?"

You squawked in surprise, pushing his chest and laughing with him. "Nori's not so pure minded after all. Here I thought you were super conservative."

"Never said I was, angel."

◇◇◇

The next day, you were both mortified when Todo came up to tell you to keep it down next time. His room is next to Noritoshi's.

The both of you didn't realize he was home when that went down. “I'm soundproofing my room after this.” Noritoshi exasperatedly sighed at you.

"Ahh, maybe I should do the same with mine," You fiddled with your shirt. He smiled, leaning down to see you eye to eye, "You're looking forward to doing it with me again, I presume?"

If he wasn't so handsome right there, with his eyes bright and filled with so much joy, you're sure you would have smacked him in the chest.

".... No comment."

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's notes: Had to check the legal age in Japan for consent to sexual activities and the laws are SO MESSY. Long story short, the official age of consent is 13. Based on prefecture, for 16-18 years old, it is legal if they have consent to date from their parents. Basically, they’re trying to prevent relationships with huge age gaps for teens (with over 20 year olds) who might be taken advantage of. Toshi and Y/n’s bdays have passed already, so they’re 17 and 16 here.

Of course note that this is all fiction anyways.

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

[lizzy-williams]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘Warnings: Character death, angst, sadness, mentions of depression

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘Masterlist

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘A/N: This one is gonna get real sad real quick. 

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘Summary: What if you got lost in the blip instead of Peter?

“Hi guys!” 

Your voice made Peter jump, his eyes widening as he looked at you on the screen. 

“I just stole Peter’s camera, and I hope he doesn’t get too mad about this, so umm... Hey Peter! If you’re watching this, I love you! And umm... I’m really excited for your Stark internship! I’m really proud of you-”

Your voice was cut off from Peter pausing the video, his hands shaking as tears fell down his face, the drops landing on the camera screen.

Peter’s heart clenched, his hands tightening around his device, feeling as if he were to throw the camera across the room or lose his lunch. 

He couldn’t help but look back to the moment when he lost you. The horror he felt when Thanos snapped his fingers and half the world disappeared. When he came home, and Aunt May gave him a sorrowful look as he walked through the door. 

“She’s gone, Peter.”

He would drop to his knees and lose it, sobbing and speaking incoherently as he tried to wrap his head around it. 

It had been 5 years now. Peter was now a big-wig in Stark Industries, putting the Spiderman persona away, at least until he needed it. On TV and conferences, he put on a brave face. He wasn’t the same Pete he used to be. The light was gone from his eyes, and he became more cynical, and ruthless. 

When Aunt May came by for a visit, she brought a box of some of Peter’s old things, hoping that maybe, memories could bring at least some of the old Peter back. 

After she had left, he picked up the first thing on top of the clutter that was stuffed into the cardboard box. It was his old camera. He smirked, remembering all the old “vlogs” he would make with it, and decided to take a trip down memory lane. 

But what he had forgotten was the photos and videos of you. 

Peter took a second to regain his composure before pressing play again, taking a deep breath in and pushing play on a shaky exhale. 

“Well, um, me and Ned both are... proud, so, yeah! Bye!” you paused, and you fiddled with a few buttons, “Hey Ned? How do you turn this camera off??”

As the video stopped, Peter let out a sob, feeling as if his heart were being squeezed tightly. 

But he wanted to watch more, seeing as there was another video that you had made. He had to see you. This was the closest thing he’s had in 5 years. 

As he flipped to the other video and pressed play, he saw your beautiful face as you set up the camera in front of you. 

“Hey Peter! I’m going through all your sneaky little personal diary entries that you have, and your ‘man journal’,” Peter took a second to laugh, tears forming more frequently now, “So...” that was when you broke into laughter, and the video stopped. 

Flipping through the camera some more, he saw more and more pictures of your moments together in his high school days. One where you were at the park, eating take-out, and looking at the stars. Pictures with your dates or just plain Peter being annoying and taking random pictures of you without you noticing you. 

But there was one picture that made him stop in his tracks. It was a photo. Not just any photo. It was the photo he had Aunt May take, right before homecoming. 

You looked beautiful that night. He felt so bad for leaving you there to go fight some asshole with wings. But when you finally found out he was Spiderman, you forgave him almost instantly. 

You were kind. You were forgiving. Understanding. Proud. And that was when Peter discovered that he had fallen in love with you. That’s why it felt like someone had taken a chunk of his heart out when he found out that you were truly gone.

Ever since then he became stoic. He refused women left and right, not wanting anyone but you. And Tony noticed Peter’s spiral into depression. One night, he felt as if he had enough. He had stood on top of the Avengers tower. 

He tried to jump.

Thankfully, he was unsuccessful, Tony stopping him before he could get one foot off the edge. 

“Peter.” Tony’s voice rang through Peter’s brain as he looked up, wiping the tears away, “In the conference room. I think we have something you might wanna hear.”

When the the idea of finding and defeating Thanos was brought up, Peter was all for it. Besides the thoughts of you, another thought that plagued his mind for 5 years was the thought of getting his revenge on Thanos. Cutting his head off. Stabbing him. Burning him alive. The possibilities got more and more gruesome as the years went on.

The Avengers were getting back together, and Peter would stop at nothing to fix the wrong. He was determined to do you justice. 

Now Peter had a mission. And he wasn’t going to stop until he got you back. 

[tiesandtea]

Simon Gilbert

Simon Says

We interviewed Simon Gilbert, Suede’s drummer, whose book So Young: Suede 1991-1993 is a journal and photographic document of the band’s early years that will be published October 8th. So Young has foreword by journalist Stuart Maconie and a vibrant, lively text by Simon himself, documenting his move from Stratford-on-Avon, his hometown, to London, the audition with Suede, life in the van, the early success years and the many amusing things that come with it. It is one of those rare books that make an outsider feel like they were there, in the van. Or in absurd mansions in L.A. belonging to industry types. Or was it record producer(s)?…

The conversation extended to Coming Up, Suede’s third album that turned 25 this year and drumming. Simon’s witty, often, one-liners contrast with my more elaborate questions, proving an interesting insight into our way of writing/replying.

by Raquel Pinheiro

So Young: Suede 1991-1993

What made you want to realease So Young?

I was searching through my archives when researching for the insatiable ones movies and found lots of old negatives and my diaries. They had to be seen.

When and why did you start your Suede archives?

As you can see from the book, it stared from the very first audition day.

From the concept idea to publishing how long did it took you to put So Young together?

30 years … I’ve always wanted to make a book since I was first in a band.

What was your selection process for which items – diary entries, photos, etc.- would be part of the book?

I wanted to form a story visually with a few bits of info thrown in here and there, also most of the photos tie in with pages from the diaries.

Which methods, storage, preservation, maintenance, if at all, do you employ to keep the various materials in your archives in good shape?

Boxes in an attic … one thing about getting the book out is that I don’t have to worry about the photos getting lost forever. It’s out there in a book!

Other than medium what differences existed between selecting material for The Insatiable Ones documentary and for So Young?

Video and photos … photos don’t translate well on a TV screen.

Do you prefer still or motion pictures and why?

I prefer photos … they capture a particular moment in time … as video does, but there’s a unique atmosphere with a photo.

So Young’s cover photo has a very Caravaggio and ballet feeling to it. Its chiaroscuro also contrasts with the images inside.  Why did you choose it for the cover?

It was a striking shot and I wanted the book to be black and dark …it fitted perfectly.

How many of the photos on So Young were taken by you?

Probably about 3/4 my 3 school friends who were there with me at the beginning Iain, Kathy and Phillip took a load of us onstage, backstage, after  the gig, etc., photos I couldn’t take myself.

So Young can be placed alongside books like Henry Rollins’ Get in The Van and Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, that not only chronicle and show the less glamorous, more mundane side of being in a band, but also totally immerse the reader so deep in it that we are there, feeling and going through the same things. Was your selection of materials meant to convey that “band being your(our) life” sensation?

Yes, exactly that. I was fascinated by photos of bands, not on the front cover of a magazine or on TV. The other bits of being in a band are far more interesting.

In the foreword, Stuart Maconie mentions the brevity of your diary entries which, as someone who keeps diaries, I immediately noticed. Do you prefer to tell and record a story and events with images?

I haven’t kept a diary since the end of 1993 … looking back on them they can be a bit cringeful … So, yes, I prefer images.

Contrasting with the diary entries brevity your text  that accompanies So Young is lively, witty, detailed and a good description of the struggles of a coming of age, heading towards success, band. Do you think the text and images reveal too much into what it really is like being in a band, destroying the myth a bit?

I think the myth of being in a band is long gone … Reality is the new myth…

In So Young you write that when you first heard Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols music was to be your “future dream”. How has the dream been so far?

Still dreaming … lose your dreams and you will lose your mind … like Jagger said.

Is there a reason why So Young only runs from 1991 to 1993?

Yes, I bought a video camera in 1993. It was so much easier filming everything rather than take a photo, wait 3 weeks to get it developed and find out it was blurred.

So Young has a limited deluxe numbered and signed edition already sold out. The non deluxe edition also seems to be heading the same way. How important is it for you to keep a close relationship with the fans?

So important. I love interacting with the fans and is so easy these days … I had to write replies by hand and post them out in 1993…

Playing Live Again & Coming Up

Before Suede’s concert at Qstock Festival in Oulu, Finland on 31.07.2021 you wrote on your social media “cant fucking wait dosnt come close!!!!!” and Mat [Osman, Suede’s bassist] on his “An honest-to-goodness rehearsal for an honest-to-goodness show. Finally”. How did it feel like going back to play live?

It was great. Heathrow was empty which was amazing. A bit strange to play for the first time after 2 years …., but great to get out again.

Coming Up was released 25 years ago. How does the record sound and seems to you now compared with by then?

I haven’t listened to it for a long time actually … love playing that album live … some great drumming.

Before the release of Coming Up fans and the press were wondering if Suede would be able to pull it off. What was your reaction when you first heard the new songs and realize the album was going in quite a different direction than Dog Man Star?

Far too long ago to remember.

Coming Up become a classic album. It even has its own Classical Albums documentary. Could you see the album becoming a classic by then?

I think so yes .. there was always something to me very special about that album.

Is it different to play Coming Up songs after Suede’s return? Is there a special approach to concerts in which a single album is played?

No … didn’t even need to listen to the songs before we first rehearsed … They’re lodged in my brain.

Which is your Coming Up era favourite song as a listener and which one do you prefer as a drummer?

The Chemistry Between Us.

Will the Coming Up shows consist only of the album or will B-sides be played as well?

Definitely some B-sides and some other stuff too.

Simon & Drumming

If you weren’t a drummer how would your version of “being the bloke singing at the front” be like?

Damned awful … I auditioned as a singer once, before I started drumming … It was awful!

In his book Stephen Morris says that all it takes to be a drummer is a flat surface and know how to count. Do you agree?

No.

Then, what makes a good drummer?

Being in the right band.

Topper Headon of the Clash is one of your role models. Who are the others?

He is, yes … fantastic drummer.

Charlie Watts is the other great …and Rat Scabies … superb.

She opens with drums so does Introducing the band. Your drumming gives the band a distinctive sound. How integral to Suede’s sound are the drums?

Well, what can I say … VERY!

Do you prefer songs that are driven by the drums or songs in which the drums are more in the background?

Bit of both actually … I love in your face stuff like She, Filmstar …, but ikewise, playing softer stuff is very satisfying too.

You’re not a songwriter. How much freedom and input do you have regarding drum parts?

If the songs needs it, I’ll change it.

Do you prefer blankets, towels or a pillow inside the bass drum?

Pillows.

Do you use gaffer tape when recording? If so, just on the snare drum or also on the toms? What about live?

Lots of the stuff … gaffer tape has been my friend both live and in the studio for 30 years.

What is the depth of your standard snare drum and why?

Just got a lovely 7-inch Bog wood snare from Repercussion Drums … sounds amazing. It is a 5000 year old Bog wood snare.

Standard, mallets, rods or brushes?

Standard. I hate mallets and rods are always breaking after one song. Brushes are the worst …no control.

How many drum kits have you owned? Of those, which is your favourite?

5 … my fave is my DW purple.

How long to you manage without playing? Do you play air drums?

7 years 2003 – 2010 … and never.

Can you still assemble and tune your drum kit?

Assemble, yes …tune no …have never been any good at that.

You dislike digital/electronic drum kits, but used one during the pandemic. Did you become more found of them?

Still hate them … unfortunately,  they are a necessary evil.

When you first joined Suede you replaced a drum machine. Would it be fair to say you didn’t mind taking its job?

Fuck him!

Brett [Anderson, Suede’s singer] as described the new album as “nasty, brutish and short”. How does that translates drums wise?

Very nasty brutish and short.

When researching for the interview I come across the statement below on a forum: “If you’re in a band and you’re thinking about how to go about this, get every player to come up with their own track list & have a listening party. I’ve done this, not only is it great fun, it’s also massively insightful when it comes to finding out what actually is going on inside the drummer’s head!”. What actually is going on inside the drummer’s head?

Where’s my fucking lighter!

And what is going on inside the drummer as a documentarist head? How does Simon, the drummer, differs from Simon, the keen observer of his own band, bandmates, fans, himself, etc.?

There is no difference … I’m Simon here there and everywhere…

What would the 16 years old Simon who come to London think of current Simon? What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t smoke so much you fool!

[cryptid-deity]

August 19 Entry Summarized

Seward reports on the night of August 18. Around eight o’clock, Renfield started to act different from usual; he became excited and started to sniff around as if having caught a scent. When the attendant tried to talk with him, Renfield responded: ‘I don’t want to talk to you: you don’t count now; the Master is at hand.’

At nine o’clock, Seward went to check on him himself. Renfield acted just as dismissively towards him. In the following half hour, Renfield got more and more excited, until he suddenly sat down quietly on the edge of his bed, staring ahead of him “with lacklustre eyes”. Seward tried to engage with him by asking about his animals, but Renfield’s response was: ‘Bother them all! I don’t care a pin about them.’ When Seward expressed his surprise over this change of attitude, Renfield said: ‘The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride; but when the bride is draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled.’ He didn’t talk anymore after that. After a while, Seward decided to go to bed. (Drug mention:)

I am weary tonight and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I don’t sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus - C2HCl3O.H2O! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none tonight! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, tonight shall be sleepless...

Seward continues his phonographic diary to report that he was called by the night-watchman at around two o’clock, who said that Renfield was no longer in his room. Seward threw on his clothes and met the attendant downstairs, who told him the story:

His attention was called by the sound of the window being wretched out. He ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn’t get through the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The attendant told me [Renfield] had gone to the left and taken a straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our grounds from those of the deserted house.

Seward ran back and told the watchman to get three or four men to possibly help him bring Renfield back. He also got himself a ladder and used it to climb the wall.

I could see Renfield’s figure just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to someone, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run off. [...] After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw nearer to him[.] I heard him say: ‘I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and afar off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will not pass me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?’

Seward describes getting Renfield back to their building.

Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time [since being back]: ‘I shall be patient, Master. It is coming - coming - coming!’ So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep tonight.

[lo-55]

Playing With Fire Ch. 3

Ignition

@emrysaf

You’ve decided. You’re going to marry Maki. 

You’re going to marry her and adopt Sputter and Flare, and you’ll all live happily ever after in the cathedral and- 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when Maki smacks you so hard you literally see stars and throws you on the ground. 

“... owe.”

If everything else hadn’t cemented the fact that you were really living inside Fire Force, the pain of Maki’s fist and the hard concrete under your cheek sure would have. Holy hell, how was she so strong?

You roll over on your back to look up at her. 

“I bet,” you begin, “that you could bench press me if you really wanted to.”

Maki’s cheeks pink and she huffs down at you. “Why aren’t you using your pyrokinesis? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

I have no idea how to do that! 

“Nope, Nope! I’m sure you could wipe the floor with me, it’s not that miss!” You said quickly. “I was just in awe of you, sorry,” you salute quickly, and watch pink crawl across Maki’s face. 

So cute!! 

“H-honestly! At least use your spear!” 

You perk up. Spear? The Sun Spear? Is that what you have here? An answer! Finally! An answer! 

Maki takes your surprise for something else. “No one told you that they’d sent it over ahead of you? You should really keep better of your gear.” 

You dip your head quickly. “Yes, yes. Sorry. Can you show me where it is, please?” 

“Sure,” Maki smiles at you, “We’re about done for now, anyhow. Let’s go back inside and wash up. Sister Iris and Shinra should be waiting.” 

Maki takes you back into the cathedral, away from the training area on the roof. The cathedral really is pretty run down. The walls could use a good scrubbing, the floor boards either need to be replaced or are missing entirely, and there’s a lot of cracks in the tile and missing corners. The windows are fine, if not dusty, and the stained glass pieces are really beautiful. The whole place smells faintly of burnt wood and gun oil. It’s not bad, but its certainly unfamiliar. Everything is so vivid. The way it smells. The sound of the building settling, and the birds outside, and the voices of your new comrades. 

It’s amazing. 

Kinda terrifying, but crazy cool too. 

After a quick shower for each of you Maki shows you to the weapons room, where a long, thin case is rested against a wall between two racks of guns. Obi’s shield is propped up in one corner, along with a couple of his weird stabbing things that he puts infernals to rest with. You’ve been here two days now, and you’ve seen him use it twice.

You don’t know how, but you know instinctively that that case belongs to you. 

You go to it. There’s a strap along the back, like the kind on a violin case. You carefully set it on a table, mindful of the bullets stacked on top of it. With a few clicks you undo the buttons on either end and open up the case. Inside is a long staff, deep red in color and capped at the bottom with copper colored metal that curves into a diamond point. On the opposite end is a thin band of the same metal, that reveals the inside to be hollow. 

You pick it up carefully, testing its weight in your hands. It feels natural. Even though you’ve never actually fought with a spear before your body knows where to hold it, and how to spin it around elegantly until you’re facing Maki again. Your body knows how much space you’re taking up, and how not to hit the walls, while your brain geeks out over the fact that you’re actually holding the Sun Lance. 

So cool! 

Is it conceited to say that you’re super cool? Or that this was hella badass? 

You were almost bouncing on your toes you were so excited. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you missed your spear this much,” Maki smiled at you. “You look good with it.” 

“Aha, you think so? It’s just nice to have it I guess. This has been, I dunno. An adventure already. I’m in a strange place, with strange people, and I’m in an awfully dangerous situation. It’s been an adjustment, ya know?” 

You feel like a fool for rambling, but Maki smiles at you kindly. 

“I understand. Even though I was raised in a military family, it took me a while to get used to life as a fire soldier too. Don’t worry too much about it, and you know, we’re always here to help. It’s not like you have to go it alone.” 

You’re heart warms with her words. “Yeah. Thank you, Maki. You’re really a nice person.” 

Once the Sun Lance is safe in its case the two of you leave the armory, and make your way to the dorm rooms. 

Since the company is so small, each person gets their own room. In bigger companies you would be in actually dorms, or barracks, but the eighth only has Obi, Hinawa, Maki, Sister Iris, Shinra, and yourself. Arthur will be here soon too, and Tamaki. Your small company will grow soon. 

Your own room ended up being at the top of one of the towers on the west side of the cathedral, opposite of the garage. Which meant that last night, when the alarm had gone off, you’d been the last to arrive at the Matchbox. Near the garage are the locker rooms, and the communal showers, although there’s more bathrooms scattered through the base. 

In the center of the cathedral is the courtyard where Sister Iris purifies herself, and grows flowers. 

It’s really a nice place. 

“Thank you,” you say again, and Maki nods to you and leaves you to climb the steps on your own. You shut the door and lock it behind you. 

Your room is scant, all things considered. A bunk bed it pushed into each corner, with a desk underneath it. You’ve claimed the one nearest to the window. There’s a wardrobe on the opposite side, and a small, stocky book shelf. 

You need to hang up some pictures or get a rug or something. It’s entirely impersonal. 

You rest your Sun Lance up against the corner by the window and go to sit at the desk under your bed. You’ve already unpacked your few belongings into the wardrobe and the drawers of the desk, including the diary from ‘Fuyuki’. 

Your ‘sister’. The game honestly hadn’t told you a whole lot about her. Just that she disappeared, and what few flashbacks you would have now and again. Like the one you got when you touched your ring and the lighter.  

You open it up with careful hands. 

Inside the handwriting is familiar, even if the words aren’t. There’s no mistaking your hand writing. It looks like a serial killer in a movie has left a ransom note made out of letters cut out of magazines. 

I wonder if there’s cereal in the kitchen. 

You always think better when you’re snacking. 

To keep your thoughts in order, you scatterbrain.

<3 Fuyuki 

 The first entry is dated for 193 AC. After the Cataclysm. It’s 198 now, so this was given to MAIN (to you?) five years ago. That would have been right before she graduated the fire academy and joined her company. A year before she disappeared, around 194. 

It feels invasive to read the diary of the person whos life you’ve taken over, but you need answers and you don’t have a lot of options here. 

I can’t believe Fuyuki gave me a diary! That’s so lame, and super girly. I don’t really want to write in it, but she gave it to me so I guess I should? Even if I am kinda mad at her. She left to go to school years ago and she never comes home! She’s so mean but then she’s nice and its so frustrating! Not fair. Stupid sister. 

But i’ll try i guess. There’s not much else to do in the house. None of the other kids really wanna play with me, and the Yagi’s are busy watching the littler kids. And maybe i’ll have kids and their kids will have kids will have kids will have kids and i’ll be their super cool ancestor and they’ll read this for inspiration or something. 

Good god, how old were they when they started writing this? Twelve? How old even were you? 

Fuck it. 

You kept reading. They/you weren’t a regular writer, with long months going between entries. Some of them were sad, some of them were happy, most of them were angry. They had a lot of complicated feelings on the sister who had abandoned them to what was basically a group home outside Asakusa, and then bitterness at themselves for being so angry when she disappeared. But most of it wasn’t that useful. It was about grades and teachers, and grief. They got into a lot of fights, and they were something of a scrapper. They were briefly enrolled in martial arts classes, but they had to quit because they were too rough with the other kids. So they were a scrapper, but that wasn’t anything related to fire. 

You rubbed your temples and glared at the diary. How did it answer your questions but leave you with more? 

Why is this my life now? 

So much here didn’t make sense, nonetheleast the fact that you were here to begin with. Well. At least you finally knew what your pyrokinesis was right? Even if using it was nearly impossible, and you couldn’t make sense of everything. 

Of course, there were plenty of things in this world that didn’t make sense. Like how sound could turn fire into ice. 

Bringing back the dead made more sense than that! 

You cross your arms and glare at the diary. So far the only useful bit is the part where you’ve had some decent training. Everything else is just the most vague information about the investigation into her sister’s disappearance. That much you already knew, although you didn’t have time to read everything in it. There were big gaps that you just knew were holding important information! 

At a loss, you flipped to the very last written on page, halfway through, and froze. 

Staring back at you was your own face. A small picture. It was your resume for the squad assignments, with your own check boxes and preferences listed. Underneath it was the list you had written before, of Everything You Knew. It was short, with little screen caps here and there. You flipped the page and found it filling itself in with ink that didn’t come from a pen, finishing up what it started on the page before. 

A new page started, this one listed your stats. 

In game there were a hundred levels. You had gotten maybe halfway through? A third if you rounded down. And it listed your level at 40. Underneath had your attack power, defense, stamina, agility, and your special moves. 

You were weirdly well rounded. Three out of five bars for everything, except the SM, which only had one. 

But, you hadn’t put that there! 

You quickly flipped it back and forth before you went to the very, very last page in the diary. On the back cover the ink finally finished filling out. A progress bar. 

You stared at it for a long, long time, trying to work over everything was happening. 

So. 

Now you knew what you could do. Just not how to do it. 

You were out of options at this point. You were just going to have to suck it up. 

You were going to have to ask someone for help directly. 

 ~

Shinra looks up from his work when you plop into the seat across from him, your arms crossed across your chest. It would be a lie to say you’re not nervous. You’re not even totally sure how you’re supposed to ask these questions, but you don’t have any other way to go about this any more. 

You tried the diary. You’ve spent two and a half days trying to get your ignition ability to work without help. Admittedly, you hadn’t even know how your ability was meant to manifest at the time, but even now you can’t get it to work.  

“Oh, hey there,” Shinra offers you an awkward smile. You grin right back, trying to project as much happy-go-lucky-nothing-wrong-here-!-  as you can. It’s made easier by the fact that prior to a few days ago, no one here had known you as anything more than a passing acquaintance. 

“Hi Shinra. I’ve got a weird question for you,” you announce bluntly. 

Shinra looks a little more wary, and he’s starting to smile. 

“Oh yeah? What is it?” 

“Ah, it’s pretty simple actually. How do you activate your abilities?” 

“Huh?” 

“How do you-” 

“No, I heard you,” he holds up his hand to cup you off. “It’s just a weird question.” 

“Hey man, I told you it was gonna be one.” 

You stare at each other for a long minute before Shinra huffs and looks towards the ceiling. He might not be the best person to ask. Maybe you should ask Maki, but Shinra makes you feel secure and you trust him more than anyone else just yet. 

“How do I activate my abilities? I dunno. I guess for me it’s more like I have to turn it off.” 

You tilt your head, listening intently to Shinra. 

“When I was a kid… I had a hard time controlling my flames. They started up suddenly, and burned through my shoes and pants. I ended up wearing these extinguisher boots, and shorts, so I wouldn’t destroy everything around me. It took a long time to figure out what was going on, but someone finally explained it to me. For a lot of third generation pyrokinetics, the thing that triggers out ability is the memory of the first time they happened.” 

You falter. “But, wait. Didn’t yours activate when-” 

“Yeah,” he cuts in, shooting you a grin that’s anything but happy. Your heart clenches in your chest. 

“Oh god, Shinra…” That meant that every time he used his powers, he had to remember his mother’s ‘death’ and his brother's disappearance. He had to think of pain and fear and grief, and he used his flames so often-

“It’s okay,” he cuts in. You can’t imagine what kind of face you’re making. “It was painful at first, and it still is, but it’s a good reminder for what I’m fighting for, and why I’m working so hard towards that goal. I will find a way to stop human combustion. I will make sure no one else ever has to grieve the way I did.”  

“Shinra,” you say softly. “You really are something.” 

Shinra tries to shrug off your words, but his smile is a little more genuine. “I just wanna be a hero.” 

“You will be,” you promise him. It’s all you can do not to tell him the truth then and there. His mother is alive, and suffering. His brother is alive, and suffering. 

They need help. 

But you hold your tongue. You don’t have any way of proving it to him, and there’s already so many things that are different here than they were in the game, or the show. Your presence being one of them. 

You let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful.” 

Shinra shakes his head. “What made you ask?” 

“Honestly?” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I’ve been having trouble using my abilities since we left the academy. I thought maybe if I asked you how you do it, I might be able to figure it out.” 

Shinra looks startled. “Really? I guess that explains why you haven’t used them in the last few days. You never really held back when we were training.” 

“Sorry to disappoint?” you offer lamely. “I just can’t figure it out.” 

“Well… Have you thought about when you first activated your powers?” 

“That’s just it,” you say sadly. “I don’t remember when it happened at all. So that’s not really an option for me.” 

“Oh.” 

You frown, and draw in on yourself. You can’t help it. You have no way to activate the powers you now know you have, and you’re in a bad place to be powerless in general. Not to mention these people are going to expect you to help, and you can’t help, and if you can’t help then- 

Shinra’s hands land on your shoulders, startling you. It’s a warm touch, one that sinks into you with comfort and kindness. Shinra looks seriously at you, his red eyes bright and intent. 

“Whatever happens, I know you’ll figure it out, and I’ll help you as much as I can. Even if I have to protect you in missions for now. So put your trust in me for now, okay?” 

Your heart thumps hard in your chest and heat spreads through your body. It grows hotter and hotter, centering somewhere in your chest and your back. 

Light blooms behind you and you barely turn your head to see a flicker of white fire over your shoulders, wings stretching over your back. They’re small, going no further down than you’re elbows and no further up than your jaw, pale and white and glowing. 

You recognize the feeling in your chest with a start. 

It’s care. Friendship. You want to help them. You want to fight for them and earn and keep their trust. The flickering embers of love bloom into a fire across your shoulders and flutter with undistinguished feather’s. 

~ ~

A/N So! Phoenix is my favorite power, but everyone else seemed inclined towards the Sun Lance, so I smashed them both together!

If you’re so inclined, let me know what you think :D

[write-1t-bop-1t]

Crashed and found

Entry for the secret shifters G/T Fanfic swap @secret-shifters

https://secret-shifters.tumblr.com/

Gift for: @syndicate-speck   https://syndicate-speck.tumblr.com/

Tiny astronaut crash lands on a giant planet or vice versa, sci-fi gulliver's travels style

Triggers/tropes to avoid: Spiders, I guess

Relationship types to avoid: None per se, feel free to go ham (but keep it sfw obviously)

Fluff or angst: No preference

I take a deep breath, running my hand through my hair and ruffling it around before breathing out and spinning in my chair to face the screen, reaching out my hand to press record,

“Hello again everybody, Ryan Harte here for log number 637, day 453 at 6:23pm Eastern time. Everything on board the ship has been running smoothly as always, no further difficulties involving the damaged engine. Alexander was able to complete the repairs with no further issue. We are a few days away from the designated drop zone, planet classification #677, and will be ready for retraction shortly after.”

I give another short sigh as I record my report, having done this almost everyday for the past year and a half. It gave time meaning, and at least it was something to do other than annoy my travel partner. I look back at the screen, smiling up at it.

“I can’t believe long it’s been…. I can’t wait for my paycheck when I get back to earth,” I say, giving a little laugh to myself.

“There is currently nothing to report on the mission, and the current planet objection is in visual range from the ship. We should-”

I get cut off from my video when the door to my room opens with a loud whoosh noise, startling me as I almost fall out of my chair, letting out a less than manly squeak of surprise.

I look over to see my travel buddy, Alexander, standing at my door with a bored expression.

“Oh, were you doing one of your diary entries again, pipsqueak?”

He says with a teasing tone, making my face turn red as I grab something off the floor and chuck it at him.

“Shove it! It’s not a diary and you know that!”

I grumble, throwing more things at him while he laughs to himself. He surrenders, putting his hands up to guard his hair, the long black strands now slightly frizzy from having collided with whatever I could have reached for moments before. He laughs again before going back to exit my room before stopping and leaning back in,

‘Well, whenever you're done with your ‘Not-Diary’, I need you to come to the front of the ship. We’ve got better visuals on the planet and I need to talk to you about it, alright?”

He says, looking at me expectantly. I quickly nod and make a shooing motion with my hands to get him to leave quickly. He laughs again before leaving me alone in my room once more. Once he leaves, a large smile breaks out on my face, as I bounce lightly with excitement. This is my first ever, real life space recon mission.

After getting into the space program at 16, with a scholarship in science, I’d always wanted to get into recon and the exploration field. I Graduated with honors at age 18, along with Alexander who graduated from ship repairs and navigation, one of the top in his class.

The planet we were headed to was said to show signs of holding valuable resources which I am supposed to gather and bring back with us to earth. Nothing was really known about the planet itself, as no one besides us has ever been this close to it. All that was really known is its size, estimated to be around 1000x bigger than our sun. But since no one knows much about it, we are being paid very handsomely once we get back home in the next year. I can’t wait to see my dad again.

I smile back at the camera,

“Well, as you heard, we are soon approaching the planet, and I am needed for the evaluation. This is Ryan Harte signing out. Love you dad!”

I say before stopping the recording and pressing the send button, to send the message back to earth’s space station, as well as so that they could send it to my dad so he knows everything was okay up here. I never want him to worry about me, so I make sure to record these often.

After sending I quickly jump up, grabbing a simple gray hoodie that had previously been thrown at Alex and throw it over my head before dashing out of the room towards the front of the ship, looking like a kid in a candy store.

My old shoes squeak against the metal as I reach the door, I bounce in place as the door rush’s open and I run inside, almost colliding with Alexander as he looks out at the black space outside the spaceship through the paned glass.

¨Present!¨ I say out loud, with a big smile on my face, causing him to roll his eyes. He motions over to the planet, and I look over to see that we’ve gotten considerably closer to it. We’re still around 2-3 days away from getting close enough to be able to dispatch my shuttle and collect parts of the large gray planet’s resources. Even so, it's already around 9000x bigger than our ship, considering our ship is about the size of a normal sized university, having to hold enough food to feed us for the to and from trips.

“Whoa.” I say mostly to myself, and Alexander nods along with me. 

He points to a lighter gray spot on the planet, “I can’t seem to get a proper scan on the planet due to the storm like clouds surrounding it, but from what I can get, that area should be the safest place for you to land. I’m going to re-route slightly to get us closer to that area, I just wanted to let you know. That okay, pipsqueak?” He says looking back at me.

I nod quickly, my excitement not faltering. 

“But why is that area safer?” I ask, just to feed my curiosity.

He explains that the area seems to be more flat than the other areas on the planet, making it easier for my shuttle to land on, along with the fact that the other, darker areas, seem to be covered with a type of dark and cloudy sky that might cause trouble with communication and engines when entering the atmosphere.

I of course, have no idea what he’s saying but nod along anyways. It probably wasn’t important anyways.

After his little safety spiel that I’ve heard a hundred times, we decide that it’s time for dinner. We made it a tradition when we started our space travel to eat dinner together as a bonding exercise, as well as to help to know each other. Now it’s just become a daily thing we do every ‘night’, to just talk and hang out. It’s not much, but when the other person with you is the only person you’ve had human interactions with for the past 2 years, you learn to appreciate it.

We walk down and make it to the ‘lobby’ where we eat, which is just an empty room with a table and two chairs melded to the ground. Bland but it works, though I wish the space program would get us better chairs.

Alexander goes and grabs our dinner, dehydrated pork and some yellow stuff I don’t bother asking about, as we talk about our days while occasionally teasing and making fun of each other. We laugh and joke around before cleaning up, saying our goodnights and getting ready for bed.

Alexander stops me before I can leave and re-explains the safety measures, protocols and blah blah blah about the exploration in a few days. I wave him off, laughing, before heading up to my room to go to bed.

As I enter, I stretch, letting out a yawn as I kick off my shoes, not caring where they go. I walk over and check my tablet to make sure my last message went through. It did, but it hasn’t been seen yet. Darn, I was hoping I would get another message from my dad, but I guess I’ll get it tomorrow.

I mess up my hair with both of my hands before getting into bed, the thoughts of finally getting to go to the planet we had been heading to for the last years and being able to finally go home and see my dad fill my mind as I quickly fall asleep.

-

The next few days go by in a blur, until I’m standing in the cockpit, struggling to pull on my gray space suit. Alexander sighs before helping me put it on, scolding me like a parent about taking this more serious. I roll my eyes, punching him in the arm before telling him that I’ll be okay.

He nods at me once before saying a goodbye as he walks towards the door to head to the main control center. I pause before running up and hugging him from behind, assuring him that I’ll be back before he knows it. He smiles at me, patting me on the head, before taking my helmet out of my arms and shoving it on my head. I whine as I have to adjust it and hear him laugh quietly to himself as he exits the room, door closing behind him. I roll my eyes as I make my way towards, and into, the shuttle prepared. I close the hatch and get comfortable, checking the ship over before booting up the power. 

The keypad lights up around me, glowing white as I flip through the proper equipment and procedures to ensure the ship operates properly, while waiting for further instructions from above.

As if on cue, I hear Alexander's voice through my helmet,

“Everything in check down there, pipsqueak?”

I roll my eyes for what feels like the millionth time as I sit back and strap into my chair, ready to finally get off this stupid main ship for once.

“All good down here, we ready to go, Tarzan?”

I ask back, making fun of his long hair, as he confirms and the ship starts up. I can feel the rumble of the engine as the ship is lowered into position and I take a deep breath, still talking to Alexander to make sure everything is ready.

We count back from ten at the hatch in front of my ship, leading into space begins to open.

Once we get to zero, I can see the large planet in front of me and the engines push me forward and out of the ship, plunging me into the dark vast of space. I lock my focus on the planet as I take control of the wheel and steer towards the area told to me by Alexander.

I can see the cloudy, storm like area around the planet, making sure to avoid the darker areas.

Once I seem to be going in the right direction, I set it into autopilot and relax my posture.

“Hey, once we get back home, wanna hang out? I know this greeeeat Mexican place near my house, you’d love it.”

I say out of the blue and here my college chuckle, “Yeah yeah, Of course. But you’re paying, pipsqueak.” He says through the comms and I let out a dramatic and offended gasp while laughing.

“What, I gotta pay you to hang out with me? I’m hurt Al, really. Here I was thinking we were friends, guess not.” I say through giggles, and I can hear Alexander laughing as well.

I can see the planet coming closer and move the steering accordingly for the best entry, making sure to soften the engines so I don’t enter the atmosphere too quickly and burn up the ship.

“Yeah well, You can’t just i##ite some##e o# #### e##p-”

I furrow my brows as he talks, unable to make out what he’s saying.

“Hey Al, you’re cutting out. Is everything okay up there?” I ask with clear worry in my voice.

Just then the power to my ship flashes off before coming back on and the engine buffers, causing me to jolt forward in my seat. I call out again to Alex, but only hear muffled static through the comms, worrying the crap out of me. I try tapping the side of my helmet to see if I can get it to come back on.

“Alexander, are you there? You’re freaking me out, what’s going on?”

I ask out again, as my ship continues towards the unknown planet. The ship shuts off and I lurch forward again before the ship comes back on, causing me to panic slightly. I check my vitals and the ship's hardware to check for malfunctions quickly, to see if I can find out what’s happening.

“RYAN? RYAN CAN YOU H##E ME?!”

I hear Alex yell through the comms, causing me to jump in my seat and respond immediately,

“Hey, yeah I can hear you now. What’s going on, my ships freaking out…”

I can hear his shaky voice, which causes my panic to rise.

“Look Ryan, you need to listen very carefully to me alright? Whatever's going on with the planet is messing with the tech on the ship and screwing up the comms. I don’t think it’s safe, you need to come back this instant so we can re-think and re-evaluate this, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, alright I’ll turn around now.”

I say quickly, quietly panicking as I reach to flip off the autopilot. I realize how close I am to the outer edge of the planet now, along with the storm, and reach to grab a hold of the steering wheel but the ship lurches forward again before I can grab it and the power shuts off for a final time, turning off the engines, along with any and all different functions of the ship.

I freeze, my breathing shallow, as I try to process what just happened. I reach slowly and yank at the steering wheel, trying to see if it would move the ship. No give. I try to turn on backup power. Nothing. But besides that, the new realization that dawns on me causes my heart to pick up and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up…

The ship is still moving towards the planet.

I get over my initial shock and start trying to talk to Alex again,

“ALEX, I CAN’T CONTROL THE SHIP. I’M MOVING TOWARDS THE PLANET!”

I can hear shuffling of papers through the comms,

“Ryan, the gravitational pull of the planet is pulling the ship in, is there any way to get it to turn around?!”

I can hear his breathing, it’s steady but shallow, like he’s trying to stay calm, for my sake and his.

“No-NO, there’s no controls! I’VE LOST ALL POWER!”

The ship lurches forward as I near the dark gray clouds, the ship almost at the point where it could touch them.

“DID YOU TRY THE BACKUP POWER?!”

“OF COURSE I TRIED THE BACKUP POWER!”

I wait a few seconds and tears prick in my eyes when Alexander doesn’t say anything and I call out for him again, telling him not to stop talking.

“Alright, just calm down Ryan. Your ship is too far away to grab with the retractable arm, I don’t know how to get you back to the ship in time. I can’t even get the main ship close to you without risking it being pulled in too. Maybe we could try a##atc#i## the el#c#tical cab### ## #### ###-”

His audio cuts out completely.

“Nononono, Alex come on, YOU CAN’T DO THIS RIGHT NOW, PLEASE!”

The ship is pulled into the clouds as I lose sight of the home ship and any hope of getting home. The ship is shaken harshly and I’m thrown out of my seat and onto the ground, cracking my helmet on the wall of the shuttle, causing it to crack. I suddenly feel this floating sensation in my stomach, my body feeling as if it’s weightless, until I look back out the windshield. The ship is falling. Fast.

All I remember was the sound of the windshield shattering and the heat surrounding me before the shuttle had plummeted to the ground, hitting the rock below with the full force of whatever gravity this planet went by, as pain fills my body and I black out.

-

I feel cold. And warm…. And wet…..

What happened…..

My head hurts…. My chest hurts….

A sudden pressure is put on my chest causing me to let out a loud whimper and the pressure is immediately retracted. I let out a shaky sigh and try to move, causing pain to shoot through my body and I let out another pained whimper.

What happened….? Why does everything hurt…? What’s that weird noise, it sounds like a dolphin…. Or a bird…. Maybe a cat….

I can’t keep my thoughts straight, everything hurts. What do I remember-?

The crash, the ship malfunctioning, the unknown planet…. Shit-

Another pressure is put on my chest again a few seconds later, touching a rib that is most certainly broken and I let out a surprised and pained gasp, causing it to go away again.

I try opening my eyes, finding the simple task to be, well, less than simple. My eyes seem focused on staying shut, but I need to see what’s happening. Am I dead? No, I don’t think ghosts feel pain…. Do they? That would be kinda cool though. Space ghost.

I try opening my eyes again, being able to open them a crack as light floods my vision, causing my eyes to tear up and close again. Wait, light? Wasn’t this planet covered in a dark perma-storm? Where’s the light coming from?

I hear some rumbling from above me, kinda like the sound my cat Rosco back home makes when he’s worried about something, a mix between a purr and a growl. 

Could it be my ship's engine? Wait, if it’s still active, it could explode!

I use all my strength to push myself into a sideways sitting position, while forcing my eyes open once again. The light hurts them and I let out a groan as I feel the numbing pain throughout my body. Suddenly the light is covered and I’m surrounded by a nice shadow. My brains too jumbled to pay attention to it at the moment, but what I do realize is that a large portion of my helmet around my left eye has broken off. 

HOW THE FUCK AM I BREATHING?!

Does this planet really have breathable air? Does that mean there’s some type of plants that can produce the same kind of air on earth? And a sun? We didn’t see any type of sun on the reading when we scanned the planet...

I take in a deep breath to test it. It feels like normal air, and it’s keeping me alive, I can ask questions later, once I get my bearing and stand up. Maybe I can contact Alex. ALEXANDER! He must be so worried, and my dad? He’s going to lose his mind! I have to get to my ship, even if it’s destroyed I could see if I could use the parts to fix my comms and get in contact with the main ship or even the space station if I’m lucky.

I try to push myself up more, managing to move one leg up so I’m in a night's kneeling position. The pain is bad, and I let out another whimper. As I do I can feel a rush of air surround me, it’s warm. I can see the ground underneath me, seeming to be a kind of gray rock, mainly flat, meaning I did technically land where I was supposed to, although I can see that my knees don’t look great, both being skinned and bleeding, but it doesn’t feel too bad.

Another rush of air, closer to my head, followed by a low growl, causing me to turn my head upwards to see what’s causing it. My eyes widen and my breath catches in my throat, unable to breath, as I see four glowing blue eyes staring right back at me, like it’s looking right through my soul.

 Not only that but the eyes are huge…. And predatory, looking at me as if I was something it just caught…

I stumble backwards falling onto my butt, cushioned by the intact space suit still surrounding me. I finally let out a scared, shaky breath, realizing that I had been holding it moments ago. The creature's gaze doesn't falter, if anything it hardens, letting out a predatory grumble, as if a warning, though I’m not exactly sure what that warning is for, causing me to freeze in place, adrenaline coursing through my veins causing my hands to feel like ice.

The creature is large, covered in a black fur in most of its body, some parts having less of it. It stands tall- scratch that, it’s fucking huge, the size of a small apartment building. It’s ‘arms’ are long, bent in a way that a monkeys would, reminding me of a baboon. Four large spider-like eyes are still locked on me and I force myself to make no sudden movements, tears welling up in fear as I start hyperventilating, unable to focus as I direct my vision towards the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with it. If I had, I would have noticed it’s head turning in a confused manner, like a puppy would when hearing a strange noise, and the curious way it’s slowly making its way towards me, as if not trying to frighten me more than I already am.

Once I feel it getting closer I look back up to see it slowly moving towards me, and I slowly scoot back to counter it. Just then it moves to put a hand behind me causing the ground to shake lightly, stopping me from moving away again. I let out a pathetic whine, before realizing the creatures face was now meters from mine, not noticing earlier that it had moved it’s face down to get to my level. It gets even closer and my eyes widen in horror and fear, tears running freely down my face at this point, and I try to move as far back as I can without touching the creature's hand.

It stops its movements, and holds its position, around two meters from me. I hold eye contact, not wanting to look away and have it come closer again. It also holds the stare, before I see its gaze flicker upwards slightly, focusing on something else. My helmet?

It looks back into the one hole in my helmet, at me, before it’s gaze in back at the top of the helmet. 

All of a sudden I felt something touch the back of my helmet harshly, and I let out a surprised noise as I turned around to see the hand from earlier had moved so it could poke me with one of its long, bony fingers. I start moving away from it, while unconsciously moving closer to the monster that was in front of me.

I feel another wave of hot air hit me from behind, as if it’s the creature's subtle way of telling me it’s still there. I jump slightly, and turn around again to face it. It’s now on the ground for the most part, one arm wrapped behind me and one... in the air… Like the position a cat would make when playing with a feathery toy or a mouse it just caught.

And I’m pretty sure I am that mouse.

I see the hand from the air start coming towards me, and I use my arms to try and cover my face the best I can, letting out a choked sob and whimper as I brace for the impact, for the pain of the hand coming and crushing my body.

But it doesn't come.

I look back up to see two of it’s five fingers positioned on either side of my helmet, before they close and grab lightly onto my helmet. Then they start pulling up, as if to try and disconnect the helmet from the rest of my space suit. Wait-

“Wa-Nononono, Stop it! LET ME GO!”

I yell out, panic taking over my body again as I struggle against its grip. And the creature does stop for a second after hearing my outburst, before pulling upwards again, taking most of my body with it. I’m still touching the ground with my feet as I try and use my hands to hold my helmet in place, not wanting to be even more exposed and vulnerable than I already feel.

I don’t think it feels the same way.

Once the tips of my toes can barely touch the ground, the creature twists its fingers lightly, snapping the thick plastic part that connects my helmet and suit with ease, allowing me to finally fall to the ground with a hard thud, landing on my backside. The collision with the rock causes painful jolts to course through my body and I roll on my side, clutching my chest to try and relieve some of that pain.

The helmet is dropped somewhere near me, landing on the ground with a hard thud, the sound of the rest of the glass frame shattering. I whimper again as I feel the breath of the beast come closer to me as I try to curl in on myself, as if to make myself smaller, as I screw my eyes shut.

I want to go home….

My hair, now wet with sweat, covers most of my face, bits of blood near my temples where my head had most likely collided with the side of the ship during the crash as well as more tears covering my face as I let out another choked sob.

I open my eyes slightly, only to see one of the monsters fingers coming towards my head, most likely to crush it like a grape. I whimper again, trying to tuck my head into my body, to make myself feel a little less scared and helpless. It doesn’t work.

The creature's finger touches my hair lightly, and I wince at the feeling, its finger tip being about the same size, if not bigger than my head. It holds the gentle and light touch, barley even touching my head at all, before it starts to rub against my scalp lightly. I let out a surprised and shaky breath at the gentle touch, the monster acting as if I’m a piece of glass that could be broken and damaged easily. The quick realization dawns on me that….

It’s petting me.

Like I’m some kind of scared animal.

And it actually feels kinda nice. Rubbing in a small circular motion against my scalp, soothing any former pain that resided there, causing my face to soften its expression at the feeling. It moves its motion slightly towards my face, causing me to whimper quietly. It’s quick to move its finger away to rub the back of my head, as well as my neck in a soothing motion, as if to apologize. Then the vibrations start.

Low, like a cat's purr, which only adds on to the calmness feeling washing over me along with the drowsiness, which I find very concerning as I should be scared, terrified even. But it feels so good… I hadn't had any physical contact with anyone besides light shoves and teasing from Alex for the past few years, making this gentle and almost nurturing gesture feel like heaven.

The purring gets louder and I start to get more tired. The creature seems to take notice of me being more docile and starts getting more bold with its touches. Avoiding my chest, it goes and lightly moves my arms, while still petting me with its other hand. I feel a few pokes to the soft material around my legs before it starts petting my back as well. My eyes start to close even though I’m trying to keep them open. I’m just so tired….

The creature seems to sense my tiredness and I can feel his hand cup my entire back before his other hand stops petting me, as well as the vibrations ceasing, causing me to let out a childish whine, missing the feeling.

It seems to notice my distress and quickly scoops me up in its hand, lifting my whole body carefully into the air. I let out a panicked noise again, struggling against his hand, not expecting to be lifted 100 feet into the air in a matter of seconds.

The creature is quick to pull me into its chest, causing me to pull up against its surprisingly soft, black fur, and the vibrations in its chest start up again almost instantly. I hate to admit it, but the action calms me down immediately, and I subconsciously snuggle against the fur, too tired and hurt to really care about anything besides my own comfort, my old tears dried against its body as it stands there for a few minutes as I continue to doze off before it starts moving, jumbling me slightly, making me clutch onto the giants fur for stability.

It scares me at first, but the purring increases immediately, calming me down quite easily. I notice that we’re heading in the direction of a large, dark gray mountain, surrounded by even larger plant type things in different shades of dark green and blues. I glance at the ground and see the creature is walking slowly on three of it’s four hands, the fourth one holding me. I also notice the tail following up from behind that I didn’t see until now, shaped like a monkeys.

On the ground I can see bits of metal from…. My ship!

I squirm, breaking out of my calm and tired mindset to try and find a way to get to the ground remembering that I need to contact Alex, but the second I try to get out of the hand, its fingers cup tighter around me, caging me against the soft wall and the vibrations become more insistent. They’re not so tight that I can’t move, but they’re very clearly meant to keep me in the creature's hold, as if insisting that I stay put.

I of course don’t listen and continue to try to struggle, earning me a loud growl possessive from above as they stop moving all together. The fingers cup tighter around me, and I stop moving all together, shaking slightly in fear, tears welling up in my eyes again.

I’m held for a few more seconds of not moving…

Then the purring starts again, it’s ‘thumb’ comes up and rubs the top of my head lightly, like re assurance, before being removed and it starts walking again. I try to control my breathing again, now realizing that I’m not getting out of here.

When we get near the mountain, the air surrounding it turns cold causing me to shiver into the vibrating surface. The creature's body quickly heats up to help keep me warm, along with the fur, allows me to lose focus of everything else as my vision fades to black, cuddling up against the warm monster that just technically kidnapped me.

Once I’m out, the creature takes my unconscious body into its home, a cave in the side of the mountain, and rests me against a clear, soft gel like substance to allow me to sleep, as it removes my ripped space suit carefully, making sure not to disturb my sleep. It leaves my clothes on as it takes some sort of blue substance and applies it generously on my wounds and injuries while I sleep, making sure to stay close to keep me warm, before laying next to me like a large cat would, using its hand as a large blanket to make sure I’m warm during the night and so I don’t run away if I wake up before it.

It gives me one last nuzzle against the top of my head, scenting me slightly before purring and falling asleep, holding the tiny baby it found while looking for food, now glad it had gone in the wrong direction, as this cub would have never survived on its own.

They will never let the tiny, scared baby go, not after its mother had clearly abandoned it to die, terrified and injured.

It’s now their baby and they will take care of it.

Forever.

[adie-dee]

Your OC’s Backstory December Special

Yep, my entry is 5 days late, but I’m just happy I got it done. I’m also posting all four prompts in one post, as I wrote 2000 words total.

This is from before Bethany was cursed. For those who have read my previous backstory pieces, Bethany’s brother Harrison is no longer a baby. Instead, he’s now her adult older brother. She still finds him dead a few months before she’s cursed, though

HOME

My pink crayon was missing.

I searched through the drawing room, trying really hard to find it, as without it I couldn’t finish my picture.

“Are you meant to be in here?” Harrison asked just as I stuck my head under the sofa. 

“No,” I replied, sitting back up. “But I needed to do some drawings and this is the drawing room and I’ve lost my pink crayon!”

“It’s a different type of drawing in ‘drawing room’,” he said with a smile.

“Daddy said that too, but I don’t understand!” I whined. If it was really just a living room, why didn’t they call it that? 

Harrison kneeled down at the coffee table. “So what are you drawing?”

“It’s our house,” I said, joining him. “And that’s Mummy, and Daddy, and you, and me!” I pointed to each bit as I spoke. “But I need my pink crayon to finish Mummy’s garden and I can’t find it!”

“And what about this?” He pointed at a scratch on the table.

I covered it with my drawing, which he immediately removed.

“It was an accident,” I mumbled. “But I can fix it.”

I didn’t understand why Harrison laughed when I picked up my brown crayon.

“Allow me,” he said, taking it from me. He placed his hand on the scratch and whispered something magical, and when he lifted his hand the scratch was gone. 

“Wow!” I wished I could do magic, but Mummy said I didn’t have the spark. “Can you use it to find my crayon?”

“I don’t have that kind of magic,” he told me. “But why do you need the pink? The picture looks finished to me.”

I looked at the drawing again. It was obviously not finished, why did he think it was? “The flowers are missing,” I said slowly.

“Oh. Well, could you do orange flowers? Or red? Purple, maybe?”

“That is a good idea!” I picked up the purple crayon and added in the flowers, then handed the picture to Harrison. “This is for you. For when you leave so you don’t forget me.”

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“I heard you,” I mumbled. “When you were on the phone--”

“In my room,” he finished for me. “Which is eavesdropping. Hasn’t Dad told you that’s a bad thing to do?”

I thought for a moment. “Yes. Five times,” I said, holding up five fingers.

“Well you don’t need to worry: I’ll be back a lot. And I’m not going to forget you!” He hugged me. “How could I ever forget my baby sis? Especially with this amazing artwork.” He held it up again. 

“It’s upside down,” I giggled, turning it. “See?”

“Ah yes, I see now.” He stared at it a moment longer. “This needs to be our secret though, ok? I won’t be moving until next year, and I haven’t told anyone I’m going yet.”

I did a big nod. “I can keep a secret!”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“I can keep your secrets!” I corrected. “And when I’m grown up I can live with you too! And our home won’t have rules about eating vegetables. Or making my bed every day. And I can have a drawing room of my own!”

“Sounds good, kiddo,” Harrison said, cleaning up my crayons. “Now let's get out of here before Mum finds us and you get in trouble again.”

HOLIDAY

Dear Diary,

Last night was the shortest night of the year! 

We had a party to celebrate, and Mummy and Daddy didn’t even make me go to bed at seven. I got to stay up all night! 

There was lots of yummy foods that I got to eat that I don’t normally get to eat, like jelly babies and cake and ice cream, and Harrison even gave me something called cordial, which is like a lolly but it’s a drink! I wanted to taste what he was drinking too but he said it was grownup cordial and I wouldn’t like it. 

I got to play with other kids too which was really really fun! And I didn’t even get in trouble when I got dirt on my dress from when Brett threw it at me.

After everyone went home, me and Mummy and Daddy and Harrison took the stairs behind the gate up to the roof. Daddy called it a puppet, I think. It was a nice flat bit on the edge of the roof with a wall around it, and we were up there to wait for the sun to rise! I didn’t have to go to bed at all!

I fell asleep anyway, even though I tried real hard. But then Harrison woke me up and I got to see the sunrise, and WOW! The sky was orange and yellow and pink and it was so pretty.

I’m really really tired now. I even fell asleep at the breakfast table and had to clean milk off my face, which made Daddy laugh and Mummy frown. Harrison wasn’t there but he would have laughed too. 

Mummy has put me to bed and wants me to have a nap. And I will, diary, I will, but not before I tell you a secret. I found the bag of jelly babies and hid it in my dollhouse. I don’t get many lollies so they’re my secret and I’m going to eat them all.

Once I have my nap. Night, Diary!

GIFT

Bethany…

I pulled the blanket over my head, hoping that was enough to make the monster go away. 

Bethany…

The monster started scratching on the floorboards too and I pressed my hands to my ears. “Go away!” I yelled, the way Mummy and Daddy had told me to. “Daddy says you have to!”

BETHANY!

My mattress jumped under me, making me scream. I stood up on my bed and did my biggest jump, but I landed closer to the bed than I wanted to.

I’m going to get you!

I screamed again and ran for my bedroom door, pulling it open and running down the hallway until I reached Mummy and Daddy’s room. 

“Daddy daddy daddy!” I yelled, banging on the door. “The monster won’t go away!”

As soon as the door opened I ran into their room and threw myself on their bed. 

“Can I sleep here?” I asked Daddy, “Pleasssseeeee? I told the monster to go away and he didn’t listen and I’m scared!!” 

“The monster cannot hurt you,” Mummy said, joining Daddy at the door. “He will leave if you ignore him. Now please, Beth, go back to bed.”

I burst into tears. “But he’s scary!”

Daddy sighed and sat on the bad next to me. “What did you say to it?” He asked. 

“That… that… that you said he had to go away!”

“Oh Beth,” Daddy said with a small smile. “You have to tell him you don’t want him there. Then he will leave you alone.”

“But what if he doesn’t listen?!”

“He is trying to scare you, nothing more. As your mother says, he will not harm you. I promise. Do you believe me?”

Still crying, I nodded.

Daddy lifted me off the bed and carried me to the door. “Run along to bed, princess,” he said, putting me down. “We will talk more in the morning.”

I dawdled down the hallway, wanting to be anywhere but in my room.

Suddenly, a large monster appeared at the end of the hall and I screamed again.

“Bethany!” The monster yelled, stepping out of the shadows.

I started to giggle. That wasn’t a monster, it was Harrison. The monster never came out from under my bed, anyway.

“What are you doing up?” He asked me.

I told him about the monster.

“Wait here,” he said, then disappeared into his room. When he returned, he was holding a brown teddy bear. “I bought you this,” he said, handing it to me. “I was going to give him to you earlier, but you were already in bed when I came home.”

The teddy bear was soft and fluffy and cuddly, and I hugged him to my face. 

“This is a very special bear,” Harrison continued, crouching down next to me. “I gave him magic. So when the monsters make you scared, just hold him tight and he’ll make them go away.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

I beamed at him. “Thank you!”

“But he needs a name.”

I looked at the bear again. Mummy had told me names were important, and I wanted to make sure I got it right. “Boris!” I announced. 

“Boris it is.” Harrison ruffled my hair then stood up. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you back into bed.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked. He was still in his daytime clothes too, which was strange.

“Because I’m a grownup.”

“Mummy and Daddy are grownups too.”

He picked me up and smiled. “They’re old grownups,” he said, carrying me back to my room. “And grownups can go to bed whenever they want.”

“I can’t wait to be a grownup!”

“It’s a long way away.” He tucked me into bed. “Goodnight, Bethany.”

“Night, Harrison.”

He pulled the door closed behind him.

Bethany…

I hugged Boris tight, just like Harrison told me to. “Go away!”

The monster didn’t reply. 

NEW YEAR

A hand touched my shoulder. 

“Boris!” I cried, hugging him tight. The monster was back, he was going to grab me and eat me and—

“Bethany,” a voice hissed, clearly not that of the monster. 

“Harrison!”

“Shh!” He switched on my bedside light. “I want to show you something,” he whispered, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I can do that,” I said, sitting up. “I haven’t told anyone you’re leaving. I nearly told Daddy but I didn’t.”

He held his pinky out to me. “Pinkie swear?”

“Pinky swear,” I repeated, hooking mine onto his. “Now can I see?”

“Yes. But get your slippers.”

Holding Boris tight I jumped out of bed and ran over to my wardrobe. My slippers were nowhere to be seen so I pulled on my gumboots instead. I liked my gumboots. They weren’t boring colours like all the clothes Mummy bought me; instead they were pink and purple and had flashing lights in the bottoms. Harrison always got me nice things, and wearing them with my nightie made me feel like a princess.

“Can you be quiet in those?” he asked once I came out of my wardrobe. “We don’t want anyone to hear.”

I replied with a big nod.

He led me out of my room and into the drawing room, pausing to pick up one of my crayons off the floor. “Cover your eyes,” he whispered.

I did as he asked, and heard something go click.

When I uncovered them, the back of the fireplace was missing, and there was a rickety staircase instead.

I almost squealed with excitement. A secret passage! 

Harrison ducked into the fireplace and I followed him, climbing the stairs, and suddenly we were on the roof. 

But not the nice flat part where I got to watch the sunrise. This bit was steep and covered in thick red tiles.

“Why are we--”

Harrison shushed me again. “Mum and Dad are on the parapet,” he whispered, pointing to where the nice bit was. “They wanted you to stay in bed but you’re five now, and a big girl, and I wanted you to see.”

“See what?” 

Just as I spoke there was a big explosion overhead, one made of purple and green sparkles. Then red, and blue, and silver. Some were big circles and others shot up like rockets, and even the bridge was covered in sparkles. It was so pretty. Not as pretty as the sunrise, but still really really pretty.

Harrison picked me up and I reached out, trying to catch the falling lights.

“Happy new year,” he whispered.

Suddenly I gasped. “Does this mean you’re leaving me now?” I don’t want you to go!” Tears formed in my eyes and I rubbed my face onto his shoulder to wipe them away.

“Not yet. I have a few more things to organise, so I’ll be here for the rest of summer. And when it’s time, you’ll be the first to know.”

[write-place-write-time]

Sharing It

[ Can be read as a sequel to “Keeping It” or as a standalone ]

“Mmm…. no.”

“You’re maddening.”

“No argument there.”

“That is also maddening.”

Molly sighed and put down her tablet, the medical journal she’d been trying to read for the last ten minutes a lost cause. “You’re both maddening.”

Her husband smirked behind his cup of tea, an eyebrow cocked over his reading glasses. “It is hereditary, you know.”

“Yeah, Mum. Uncle Mycroft is maddening, and I know Dad thinks Gamma and Papa are--”

Sherlock shot his gaze to their daughter in a mock-glare. “Shush. Gamma can likely hear you, even fifty miles away.”

“Which is what you find maddening,” was her sly response.

Molly reached for a piece of toast, a small grin on her face. Sherlock nudged her calf with his bare foot under the breakfast table.

“Dr. Hooper-Holmes, I’ll have you know you are maddening too. I’ll also remind you that you contributed the other half of the maddening genes we see in the creature at our table.”

“Creature?!” Another bare foot swept and nudged Sherlock’s calf, though harder than he’d nudged Molly’s. 

Laughter ensued, as it usually did when Sherlock teased the girl.

“Darling, what prompted the maddening argument?” Molly asked her, nibbling her toast.

“I asked Dad if I could help with the Livingston case. DI Dimmock called this morning and will be here by noon.”

“And,” Sherlock interrupted, “I politely - yet firmly - said no.”

“Why?” both of his girls asked in unison. 

Sherlock inwardly groaned. Twin pairs of heart-shaped faces and messy chestnut buns swung to look at him expectantly. The brown eyes were curious, but the eyes that mirrored his own in color and shape were full of challenge. A swell of pride and love rose in his chest but he beat it down so as not to look soft -- those challenging eyes were keener than his own and would see it and manipulate it with ease.

“Because it’s not appropriate--” he began.

“Fibber,” Molly smiled. “You don’t give a fig about being appropriate.”

Sherlock scowled, though without heat because she was right, of course. “Fine. Because she’s too young--”

“You were only nineteen when Uncle Greg first let you onto an NSY case!” 

She was also right.

“Sherlock.”

He looked at Molly, her laugh lines a little more prominent, her own reading glasses perched atop her head. Motherhood and wifehood had not diminished her charm or her ability to see him. “Yes?”

She just smiled at him until he gave in and smiled too. 

“Alright, is this going to be like when I came home early from the Watsons’ and learned what coitus interruptus meant?”

They both kicked their daughter under the table, who laughed and threw pieces of bacon at them.

“Artemis Charlotte Zephyrine Hooper-Holmes!” Molly chided the young woman. “You’re worse than your father!”

“Well you were getting all sentimental, something had to be done!” Artie (as she preferred because her full name was only for when she was truly in trouble with her parents) chuckled, crinkling her nose up at her mother. “We were in the middle of interrogating Dad about his lame reason why I can’t help with the Livingston case…”

Sherlock chewed the bacon she’d thrown at him, nodding to Molly. She could say what he felt.

“He doesn’t want to share you,” his wife said simply.

“Share me?” Artie stared at her father. “Whattaya mean?”

It was Molly’s turn to nod at him. He swallowed tightly and let himself feel. It was important, after all. “If you solve the Livingston case with me, it’ll be open range for the NSY to come to us both, then ultimately just you, for more cases.”

His daughter cocked her head to the side, a tic she’d developed early on when deducing something. Or someone.

“You’re not worried I’ll overshadow you or take over the ‘family business’, though, Dad,” she said softly and certainly. “Then why--”

“It is a wild, heart-pounding, dangerous, and exhilarating life, being a consulting detective,” he said. Molly’s warm eyes met his. “I have only ever experienced the precisely same rush in the line of work that is husband and father. And I want nothing more than for you to feel it too.”

He looked Artie right in the eye and let himself be open to her. “I don’t want to share my girl and her talents for deduction and compassion just yet. It would mean that you’re ready to not need me. Or your mother,” he added quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of his signature stoicism.

Artie’s eyes narrowed, and she was silent for a moment. As the moment stretched Sherlock was reminded that she was most definitely his child. John had said that his own silences were unnerving. But, right before the moment became awkward, Artie’s face broke into a smile.

“Dad, you’re an idiot.”

Molly cleared her throat with admonishment, but both husband and daughter waved her off with identical dismissive hands. 

“Mum, you know what I mean,” Artie smiled, keeping her eyes on her father. “Dad, I don’t want to do this because I don’t need you and Mum. I do and always will. I want to work this case because I think I want to be a writer.”

Molly and Sherlock looked to each other, then to their girl. “A writer?”

Artie sat up a little straighter, pulling the sleeves of her father’s old blue dressing gown down over her hands. Sherlock inwardly grinned. Bravado and nerves in both movements; this was a big moment for his daughter.

“I figured out what I want to major in at Oxford -- creative writing. I know, I know, it’s not exactly lucrative but I could take some cases myself as you said and that could pay a bit. Besides, Uncle John’s blog inspired me, and a-actually I’m rewriting some entries for a publication. Rosie’s doing the illustrations and I found that I loved it but I’m not getting the voice of the stories right because I’ve never seen you and Uncle John on a case. Well, not a murder case -- and we all know those are the juiciest tales!”

She was babbling, outdoing her mother as she motor-mouthed her explanation. She seemed to realize this and slowed to catch her breath. Molly and Sherlock were still locked in on her, their faces a combination of shock and intrigue.

Artie took a breath and smiled at them. “I want to write and publish these stories, Dad. Your stories, with Uncles John and Greg, Mum, Nana Hudders. I want to share you with more than London and the surrounding countryside.”

Sherlock’s throat felt tight, and a strange prickling began behind his eyes. He chanced a glance at Molly, whose eyes were swimming in pride and un-shed tears.

“Oh,” he murmured, blinking rapidly. “Well, um…” 

Artie’s hand slipped into his on the table. “Dad?”

Sherlock grasped her fingers in his, her touch grounding. He looked at Molly again, his foot finding her sock-clad one under the small table, and closed his eyes. In his mind palace (which had more windows than walls now, letting sunlight filter in and illuminate the ceilings and doors of the massive building), he found Artie’s room next door to Molly’s. Pushing the door open he saw her, all of eight years old with his deerstalker on her head and her faithful, never-far-from-reach diary open, a silly feathery pen at the ready.

He smiled as he opened his eyes and arched a supercilious brow at his currently eighteen year old daughter. “Best get your arse dressed and prepared for battle, Miss Hooper-Holmes. The game--”

“-- is ON! Hell yeah, Dad!” Artie tugged him forward and planted a loud smacking kiss on his forehead before bolting out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom, dressing gown flapping dramatically. 

Molly immediately cracked up laughing, standing to clear the table. “She is so your child, Sherlock.”

He grasped her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “Again, I remind you that she is half you too, wife.” He kissed her languidly, her hands reaching into his curls (which may or may not have had strands of silver through them). They broke apart only when they heard the thump of their daughter losing her balance, no doubt trying to put on her boots without unlacing them (again).

“You better get yourself dressed too,” Molly said, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Artie’s been dead-set on joining you for a murder for ages.”

Sherlock scrunched his nose at her. “Dead-set? Molly, your jokes…”

They shared another soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the thundering footsteps and the subsequent “Ohhh come on, you two!”

[the-homicidediaries]

Chris Benoit

Guys.

I am so excited to talk about this.

Not because of the context, but because this is one of the reasons I love wrestling so much; there’s so much that goes on behind the scenes that people have NO CLUE about.

There have been several professional wrestlers who have killed people or been killed themselves and the rabbit hole goes deep.

(Rey Mysterio accidentally killed a man on live tv and they still have the video up on YouTube.)

(Jimmy ‘Superfly’ Snuka murdered his girlfriend in May of 1983. Who is Jimmy Snuka? Jimmy Snuka was related to The Rock, Rikishi, and The Uso’s.)

THERE ARE SO MANY MORE THO.

But today, I want to talk about the Daddy of them all, Chris Benoit.

Chris Benoit’s crimes are so heinous and unforgivable Vince McMahon has swept his name under the rug and removed him from The Hall of Fame.

Benoit’s crimes also changed the dynamic of professional wrestling forever.

Chris Benoit was born in Montreal, Quebec to Michael and Margaret Benoit on May 21, 1967. He and his family resided in Edmonton, Alberta, however.

During Benoit’s childhood, he idolized Tom “Dynamite Kid” Billington (a British wrestler who competed in the 1980’s and had ongoing feuds with Hart) and Bret “Hitman” Hart (a Canadian-American wrestler and a member of the notorious Hart Family. He is a personal fave of mine as well).

When Benoit was 12 years old, he attended a local wrestling event where both Dynamite Kid and Hart were competing and he knew right then and there that he was destined to become a wrestler.

He trained in The Hart Family “dungeon” and was coached by none other than Stu Hart (Bret and Owen Hart’s father. If you don’t know Owen Hart, you should google him as well because he died under bizarre circumstances on live tv as well.)

When Benoit fought in the ring, he channeled both Dynamite Kid and Hart, even adopting Hart’s signature move, “Sharpshooter” as his finishing move.

Chris began wrestling in 1985 in Stu Hart’s Stampede Wrestling promotion. He was quickly recognized as a force to be reckoned with and received his first title, the Stampede British Commonwealth Mid-Heavyweight Championship, on March 18, 1988.

(This dude has a very extensive history or wrestling in New Japan Pro-Wrestling, World Champion Wrestling, Extreme Champion Wrestling, and World Wrestling Federation/Entertainment, but I just.. I cain’t get into all that, please forgive me. Haha! We are talking 22 years here! So I am humbly skipping to his family life.)

-Okay, so. I would love for this to be a romantic love story for the ages and the deaths resulted in crimes of passion, but that didn’t happen. At. All. Not at all.

You’ll see soon why this was all brushed under the rug.-

Benoit was married twice.

His first wife, Martina, and he had two children David (who is a wrestler as well) and Megan. By 1997, their marriage had broken down and Benoit and Martina decided it was best to end it.

Benoit began living with his girlfriend, Nancy Sullivan, who was the girlfriend of Benoit’s frequent opponent, Kevin Sullivan.

(It started off as an on-screen relationship for views and it led to a real-life affair. Many people joke that Kevin Sullivan booked his own divorce.)

On February 25, 2000, Benoit and Nancy’s son, Daniel, was born.

On November 23, 2000, Benoit and Nancy were married.

This 👏🏼 was 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 a 👏🏼 good 👏🏼 marriage.

In 2003, Nancy filed for divorce from Benoit, saying he would break and throw furniture and was cruel to her. She later dropped the suit as well as the restraining order she had set against him.

Benoit became good friends with fellow wrestler Eddie Guerrero, (a beloved and incredible wrestler, one of my dad’s faves), following a match in Japan, when Benoit kicked Guerrero in the head and knocked him out cold. This started a friendship that lasted even after Guerrero's death in late 2005, in which Benoit had written diary entries to him just ten days after his passing.

(I’m only mentioning this because Guerrero’s death has been rumored to be one of the reasons Benoit did what he did.)

Here’s where it gets gory.

So we know Benoit and Nancy did not have a good marriage, but things seemed to be okay because she dropped all the charges against him.

Benoit and Nancy were living in Fayetteville, GA, with 7 year old Daniel.

On June 25, 2007, police entered the Benoit home after Benoit’s WWE employers requested a welfare check after Benoit missed weekend events without notice.

(Benoit was actually scheduled to win another title during these weekend events.)

Upon arriving at his Georgia home, authorities found Nancy wrapped in a towel. She had died from asphyxiation.

Their son was also found, also dead, apparently strangled. Benoit placed a Bible next to each of their bodies.

Benoit’s body was the most disturbing to be found. The wrestler was hanged on a lat pulldown machine, with a Bible lying on the weight machine beside him. There were also allegedly 10 empty beer cans and an empty bottle of wine.

Autopsies concluded the murders and suicide took place over the course of three days.

On Friday, June 22, Chris Benoit killed his wife Nancy in an upstairs bedroom. Her limbs were bound, and her body was wrapped in a towel. A copy of the bible was left by her body. Injuries indicated that Benoit had pressed a knee into her back while pulling on a cord around her neck, causing strangulation. Officials said that there were no signs of immediate struggle. Toxicologists did find alcohol in her system, but they were unable to determine if she had been drinking prior to her death or if it was a product of decomposition.

Daniel was suffocated and killed in his bedroom, and a copy of the bible was left by his body. Daniel had internal injuries to the throat area, showing no bruises. Daniel's exact time of death is unknown. The reports determined Daniel was sedated with Xanax and likely unconscious when he was killed. Daniel's body had also just started to show signs of decomposition but was not as far along as his mother's body, so they were able to determine he was murdered after his mother.

(It was later alleged that Daniel had Fragile X syndrome, a genetic disorder that is characterized by mild to moderate intellectual disability. Physical features may include a long and narrow face, large ears, flexible fingers, and large testicles. About a third of those affected have features of autism such as problems with social interactions and delayed speech. Males are affected more than females. Daniel also had needle marks in his arm and it’s alleged that these were the result of growth hormones given to him because Benoit and his family considered him to be undersized.)

Chris Benoit committed suicide by hanging. Benoit used a weight machine cord to hang himself by creating a noose from the end of the cord on a pull-down machine from which the bar had been removed. Benoit released the weights, causing his strangulation. Benoit was found hanging from the pulley cable.

(On a podcast called The Talk is Jericho in 2016, Nancy’s sister Sandra Toffoloni divulged some more information. She said Benoit’s internet search history showed he had searched “the quickest and easiest way to break a neck”. Benoit had a towel wrapped around his neck when he committed suicide and his neck was broken instantly.)

A suicide note was not discovered, but a note written in one of the bibles Benoit had said, “I’m preparing to leave this Earth.”

A few possible motives I’ve seen people mention have included:

•CTE - Chronic traumatic encephalopathy is a neurodegenerative disease caused by repeated head injuries. Symptoms do not typically begin until years after the injuries and can include behavioral problems, mood problems, and problems with thinking. During his autopsy, it was concluded that Benoit did suffer from CTE after wrestling for so many years. (Back when they threw people from tops of cages, hit each other over the head with chairs and ladders, etc.) Autopsy experts say Benoit’s brain was so severely damaged that it resembled a 85 year old Alzheimer’s patient.

•Nancy’s abuse and filing for divorce - In February 2008, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported that Benoit was having an affair with a female WWE wrestler and Nancy found out. It was also speculated they argued over life insurance policies.

•Benoit’s alcohol abuse - Benoit abused steroids, but many people believe it was his alcohol abuse that led to these horrific murders. Many of Benoit’s colleagues attested he would drink more when problems with Nancy occurred.

•Eddie Guerrero’s death - Benoit and Guerrero and Benoit were very close. When it came out that Guerrero has died in his hotel room in November of 2005, Benoit was devastated. WWE held a televised memorial for Guerrero and when Benoit was giving his testimony, he broke down in front of the camera. Some of Benoit’s colleagues say, “he was never the same” after Guerrero’s death.

But at the expense of sounding completely heartless, (mind you, I’ve been suicidal myself), why didn’t he just commit suicide?

Why did he have to murder his wife and seven year old son? If we go with the CTE theory, it makes sense because he was not thinking rationally.

I wish Nancy had had the strength to leave him when she tried.

The night after Benoit’s body was found, WWE Raw had a televised memorial for him and his family with Vince McMahon standing in the middle of the ring breaking the news and a video montage.

No one knew he was the one who had killed his family.

When it was later revealed that Benoit had committed these crimes the episode was removed and WWE made the decision to remove nearly all mention of Benoit from their website, future publications, video games, merchandise, DVD/Blu-Rays, and future events.

Like I said.. swept him under the rug.

Benoit is now the “He Who Shall Not Be Named” of professional wrestling.

In ending this, I’d like to quote Stone Cold Steve Austin now.

“Well first and foremost, what I think about Chris Benoit is that guy was one of the most nicest guys I ever met in my life. He’s one of the most talented, hard working cats I’d ever seen in the squared circle. Anybody who knew Chris would tell you those exact two things. That guy loved the damn wrestling business, he was born to be a wrestler and was absolutely phenomenal. Drawing a lot of his influence from The Dynamite Kid, he blazed a path as the Pegasus Kid and his legacy as The Crippler Chris Benoit was just one hellacious career.

“One night, Chris ended up killing his wife and his kid. That is an act so terrible and horrible I can’t even comprehend or guess as to what happened in that house. That will always overshadow any accomplishment Chris had in the ring. He’ll never be in the Hall of Fame, it will just never happen. His career will speak for itself but his record as a human being, his first and foremost, and those actions will never be forgotten. That’s my feelings on that, we don’t even need to talk about the Hall of Fame. Speaking for myself, Chris Benoit as the person I knew, loved him. Chris Benoit as a wrestler, loved him. Chris Benoit as the person who did what he did, unforgivable. Bottom line.” – via NoDQ.com.

Pictured below are Chris and Nancy Benoit, their son Daniel, and their home in Fayetteville, Georgia.

[elejah-wonderland]

Hellbound

Fanfiction

Prologue

This a tvd+to fanfiction story. Totally AU.

Premise:

The Mikaelsons helped the Mystic Falls Scoobies fight a clan of ancient werewolves called the Hundings. Klaus and Caroline paid the ultimate price, as well as Damon. But as it is the case in the magical world of the Mystic Falls vampires, death is not the end.

There is also a new adventure looming for the Mystic Falls Scoobies and their now friends, the Original vampires, as everything is somehow always conected to them. And so, they are Hellbound...

Main pairings_ Elijah MIkaelson x Elena Gilbert,

Rebekah Mikaelson x Stefan Salvatore

Kol Mikaelson x Bonnie Bennett

Damon Salvatore x Katherine Pierce

*

tag_ @teachingpanda​

@elejahforever��

thanks for reading, and for requesting a tvd/to story. This has sprung out from this gifset

https://elejah-wonderland.tumblr.com/post/624551723582816256/elijahwhat-are-you-saying-elenaesther-has

In Mystic Falls

Elijah finished his account of the battle against the Hundings for Sophie's Grimoire. Then he opened his diary. He had been doing some writing for days. This entry was of a more personal nature.

                ‘It is assumed that happiness is hard to capture. And how can one feel happy having lost so many dear people close to one's heart. Having existed now for more than a millenia, I can say with certainty that love is the driving force for all. The scars of the soul are mended with it, making it possible to look to another day, and I am witness to it. We are ruled by our fears and disbelief and it clouds our minds. Love is not a weakness but the ultimative strength.What would we be without love. I have allowed myself to believe in it. I have searched long enough for it. And it has been bestowed on me when I have least expected it. I have read a long time ago that one would know one's true love by the look in his or her eyes as they are the windows to one's soul. Maybe she is the one I was looking for all my life.'

He closed the diary as Elena came into the library.

"Hey" the doppelganger said joining the Original at the table.

"How are you? I saw Antoinette leave."

"I am fine. You?" Elijah replied.

"Went to the Wickery Bridge with Matt."

"You did?!" Elijah was somewhat surprised.

"Kind of needed closure. I don't know. My life changed twice there." "And did you get closure?"

Elena nodded a little. "I had dreams, thoughts about how my life would be. Whether to go to Whitmore or even New York, if I was going to move away after college. I wanted to study medicine like my-  father. And then -you know-things first changed when my parents died."

"And second time when you were told you were a doppelganger?! Your life was never going to be completely your own?!" Elijah concluded.

"No-but I made peace with it. It was especially weird talking about with Katherine! Both of us didn't really have a choice in the matter. You know, I get her." Elena said.

"Well, only you can say that." Elijah remarked.

"Klaus killed her parents as punishment for turning and disabling him from breaking the curse." "I know, Elena." Elijah sighed a little.

Flashback

At the Plantation house, near New Orleans

Elijah found Katherine at Damon's grave planting flowers. She got up as she saw him standing there. 

"Hello" Elijah said.

"I thought we said all there is to say?!" Katherine said looking at him in a serious manner.

"Yes. But there is one thing I need to say. It's about Klaus."

Katherine sighed a little. "What about him?!"

"It's about me as well."

 The doppelganger looked at him calmly.

Elijah flashed back for a second to a moment 500 years ago when he had a conversation with her.

"What is it?" she now urged the Original to speak.

"There are no words that would lessen what we had done to you. But I want you to know that I recognize the pain we had caused you." Elijah said.

Katherine now turned the  look onto Damon's grave and then to Elijah.  "For more than 520 years I had one thing on my mind and that was finding a way to kill Klaus for having murdered my family. I have lied, cheated, manipulated, killed... all to survive and find a way to end him." Kathrine said, pausing for a moment.

She drew a deep breath and looked at Elijah poignantly, "We all have graves to visit now!"

Walking passed the Original vampire the brunette went her way to the house.

"I am sorry Katerina Petrova" Elijah muttered as he looked at her  walking away.

"I'm sorry. This was not easy" Elena said.

They agreed that they would all continue with a clean slate and leave the past behind.

"It's all right. You don't have to feel bad for bringing it up." Elijah said. "You also didn't have much choice- you didn't ask to be turned." Elena reminded the vampire of his disposition.

"Still, we had the choice of seeking humanity within us. We were not completely souless monsters."

"Choices-  yep!" Elena uttered.

"You miss Jeremy?!" "I do, but I have to respect his choices." Elena said with a little sigh and got up.

Suddenly they heard familiar voices coming from the disance. It was Rebekah arguing with Kol about him taking her supply of blood.

"Lable it then Rebekah's blood bag and maybe I won't touch it. Anyway, I hate cold blood!" Kol shot back at his sister.

"Why should I lable it- you should learn not to drink everything up and only think about number one-Kol!! Ugh, I wish I had that white oak ash dagger at times."

"And hello to you!" Elijah said as he opened the door for them.

"What brings you here?"

"May we not call on our brother?!" Rebekah said eyes still blazing angrily at Kol. "Of course you may. Still, has it occured to you that it might be best that you two get separate accomodation!" Elijah suggested.

"That is one reason why I came to see you," Rebekah said, "Stefan and I decided to leave MF! And I am hosting a farewell dinner-party! You are invited."

"Where are you going?" Elena enquired surprised to hear it as Stefan hadn't mentioned anything to her when they spoke earlier.

"England. We liked it there." Rebekah explained. "And you two are staying here for a guess?"

"For a little while longer." Elijah replied. Elena just added that she hadn’t decided what to do.

 It's time to dump this place!" Kol concluded.

"And where are you again?" Elena asked.

"Sophie's in New York. I will try to win her precious heart back"

"Good luck with that!" Elena remarked.

"She says she can't be with a vampire, but her goodbye kiss told me something entirely different!" Kol said.

"Keep telling yourself that" Rebekah turned to her brother still furious about the empty fridge she had encountered as she got up that morning.

To sway them from more bickering, Elijah changed the subject to the dinner party.

Elena's phone rang and she answered it. Bonnie wanted to meet her. "I will see you later." Elena said to them and left.

🍀

At the Grill

"Matt left, ha?!" Bonnie said.

"Everyone's leaving." Elena then told her about Stefan, Rebekah and Kol, as well as the dinner party.

"Dinner-party with the Original family?!" Bonnie then said still not being able to process the great gap of a year she had missed being locked away in the spirit world by the Hunding witches.

"It will be fine. They are already back on with the  bickering and I left Elijah to deal with them." Elena said.

"I will need loads of time to get used to it all.” Bonnie cocked an eyebrow and then got a chart out of her bag. “I found it among her Gram's books as I was trying to declutter. Read this!"

"Nova Scotia?!" Elena said as she took the map her witch friend handed it to her.

"Yes. Look at the name." Bonnie urged her friend to read on.

"Gwyn Mikaelson!" Elena read in the name written in runes and then looked at Bonnie amazed."This is weird. I don't get it?! There is another Mikaelson?!"

"I don't know what it is, but I guess one battle done, another mystery on horizon!" Bonnie said.

"One thing is for sure. It is never ends with the Mikaelson mysteries!" Elena said."can I take this?!"

"Be my guest. One thing is for sure, there is always something going on with the Mikaelsons!"

"Oh, yeah! New adventure here we come!" Elena exclaimed softly. Packing up the map and the books in the bags, they got up.

As the doppelganger got  into the car, she pressed Elijah's speedial number.

❤

Hours later

Elijah, Kol and Rebekah, together with Elena, Stefan and Bonnie examined the map. They had Sophie Deveraux on loudspeaker.

"Gwyn Mikaelson," Rebekah said, 'tell me that she actually didn't die of plague and that this family has even darker secret in its closet!?"

Kol held the map in the hand. "There was nothing else in the Grimoire?" the Orignal said and  looked at Bonnie. "Nothing. Just this map put in it randomly." the witch replied.

"Well, how about we channel the Bennet witch line and try and dig some information out of them?" Sophie inserted.

"Let's."Bonnie said.

"So, when are you arriving in Mystic Falls?" Kol asked and everyone looked at him as the question was directed to Sophie.

"Not just yet. My witchy instincts are telling me I will see you in Nova Scotia?! Ok, you guys, I have to go now, but keep me posted." Sophie said and hung up.

Everyone could see that Kol was slightly hurt and peeved off and now moved away from the table. He tried to keep his emotions in check and not let disappointment burst into anger. Rebekah wanted to follow him, but Elijah suggested she let him be.

"So, that's it for now?!" Elena said getting up from the round table."or shall we get packing like Sophie suggested."

"I would pack, "Stefan said looking at Rebekah "I guess we are going to postpone England?!"

"Right. And I just hope it doesn't involve digging old witches up and some weird werewolves.

How come Eilif didn't say anything about Gwyn?"  Rebekah turned to her brother Elijah.

"I find it strange, too," Elijah said pensively,"but she left and it was a goodbye."

"I don't believe in goodbyes in this family. Something always comes up. Anyway, what secret do witches keep regarding our sister?!" Rebekah said taking the map in her hands,"secrets, secrets."

Bonnie now got up."Whatever it was it wasn't good. Ok, I am going to try and channel Grams and see if we can get any answers. See you later."

The witch took her books and went out of the room.

"You don't remember anything about anybody called Gwyn?" Elena directed the question to Elijah.

"Nothing that I can recall.” the Original replied.

"Mother did once say that there was a cousin born out of wedlock," Rebekah said.

”There is another Mikaelson out there - but - father had no brothers. I don’t understand. This does not make any sense.”

"I know."Rebekah uttered.

Elena looked at Elijah somewhat worried, but with great positivity in her voice "We will figure it out"

Elijah smiled a little. Her enthusiasm and optimism was always like the warm sun giving one strength to go on.

*

Flashback for readers

Nova Scotia, 995 AD

Three witches sat down around the small bonfire. They threw three rings into the fire chanting a spell.

"Always and forever" all three witches said in one voice.

Each of them then smeared their blood with sage, rosmary and thyme and threw it into the fire.

"The trinity of the sun, the moon and the earth is now sealed." one of the witches said.

As the fire subsided sometime after. They took the three rings from the ashes and put it on a young woman's body.

"Farewell, dear girl." they said crying, as they put the three herbs entwined on her head as a crown.

******

In New Orleans

"Jeremy...wake up!" Caroline said to poking Jeremy a bit with her finger.

"Ha...what?" the hunter murmured as he woke up looking at the blonde standing beside his bed.

"I told him to let you sleep." Klaus said sitting in one of the chairs by the window.

Jeremy rubbed his face and then his eyes.

"Tell me this is a nightmare...how...aren't you supposed to be locked away in some weird witchy void spirit world?!" Jeremy said referring to Klaus as he sat up.

"He kinda got released due to good behaviour. And I had something to do with it being a heroine for killing a weird-looking werewolf. Anyway, get up. you need to get to Elena and the others. Something weird is happening again. You have to tell them that they need to try and find Sigrid Mikaelson. That's all we know." Caroline said in her ghostly form.

"I thought it was too good to be true that I will have a life and not have to do any of the vampire-ghost relaying messages thing!!"Jeremy moaned.

"We have to go" Klaus said to Caroline.

"I want to stay here a little while longer"  Caroline said to the Original hybrid.

"We have to go, love" Klaus came up to the blonde.

Suddenly Jeremy could feel the surge of magic break.

"Caroline!" he called out, but the pair were gone.

"Great!" Jeremy said taking his phone dialing Elena's number, which went directly to voice mail.

*

Hours later, on the plane to Nova Scotia

Elena opnened her diary and wrote down, "I don't know what date it is anymore. Who cares. Here we are on the plane to Nova Scotia. Only a few months ago we fought off the Hunding werewolf clan, who tried to take over and kill the Original family.

I will not write about Elijah today. Because if I do, it will take pages and pages. It’s so complicated. Idk why. But it is. It’s like - we are friends, and then we are not. Idk what we are. Ugh I got to stop, cuz as I said it would be pages and pages and pages about me and Elijah - I just know that I - want to be with him. But he still has issues with stuff - like Tatia, Antoinette. Etc.

Oh....seems like there is a lot of ohs coming.

There was a lot going on in the last few months. Nothing is the same. And it is ok.

Now we are going to try to figure out if the mysterious map with the name of Gwyn Mikaelson really makes sense and if she is somewhere out there.

It's a new adventure. I must say that I am partly excited. Elijah, Rebekah and Kol are sort of anxious, although they would never admit it. The ancient Original thing being cool and all. We haven't got a clue what we will find, if anything. I just hope we don't dig something that will haunt us. But then again, I think we will. Like Bonnie said- ever since the Originals came into our lives, it is not boring.

I am glad Bonnie is with us, but it is still strange not having Caroline around. I miss her so much. And if there is any truth about her ghost being with Klaus' ghost, then it makes a bit easier to go on.

I don't want to think of my nightmare.

I will keep you up to date, dear diary.

Elena."

[bluejeanlouis]

COMING SOON: The Yellow Roof, 1970s AU by kiddle

Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. 

Preview under the cut:

With a deep sigh, Louis leaned his chair on its back two legs, propping one of his feet up next to the till in front of him. The sun was blinding between the trees of the neighbourhood across the street, striking his eyes through the drive-thru window. He yanked the blind closed even though he wasn’t supposed to when the Fotomat was open. But there was no one around and his ability to give a shit had decreased significantly today. Slurping on the can of Coke he brought with him, he pulled out his lyric book.

Louis was not a poet. In fact, the pretentious and dull poetry class he took in his second semester at college was detrimental in his decision to drop out a year later. He didn’t like the confusion of poetry and the rules despite being an art form that claimed to be free of them. Don’t get him wrong, he was confident in his own writing, he just didn’t want to be taught how to do it.

But one look under the cover of that notebook would reveal pages and pages of poetic garbage. Some of it was great, and a couple had even ended up as actual songs back when Louis was performing solo at bars before he gave up on that too. Most of it was scribbled chicken scratch. That was just his process.

He held the notebook against his knees, tracing dark lines across the last words he wrote last night with his pen. It was some bullshit angsty heartbreak harnessed from his high school first love mixed with the anger of being sacked from a band that he was the best instrumentalist in. Sometimes that kind of emotion makes for a perfect writing session, and sometimes it’s a diary entry you never want to see the light of day.

Louis bit the end of his pen, rereading the words on his page. ‘Heart’ had to be the most overused word in love songs, and he had it down in every verse and the chorus. Love songs weren’t even what he wanted to write about. It wasn’t the only feeling out there. It sure as hell wasn’t the most predominant one in his mind.

A loud and abrupt knock on the window made Louis nearly leap out of his seat. His notebook and pen tumbled to the ground as he dropped his feet from the desk. He yanked on the string to make the blind spring back up, knocking his Coke over in the process. He picked it up just as quick, groaning at the mess it made. All the commotion caused the stack of pickup envelopes next to the widow to splay out over the desk in front of him. Now that the customer could see him, he tried to push him all out of the way before he slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to— Shit!”

One of the envelopes had landed in the small puddle of spilled Coke. He tried to wipe it off on his jeans as quickly as he could before returning it to the scattered pile with the others. Once he finally composed himself, he tried to greet the customer properly.

But then his face fell to disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly yesterday, we didn’t have the chance to talk,” said Harry, the lead singer of Louis’ former going-nowhere band. Harry had one hand casually rested on the steering wheel, the other elbow poking out the window, and sunglasses sitting low on his nose. Louis hated how effortlessly cool he could always look. It made him the perfect goddamn lead singer.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Beg for you to let me stay? ‘You’re out of the band’ was pretty loud and clear.”

“I mean, I thought we could have a discussion about it.”

“So you showed up to my work to have a discussion about it?” He hunched over so just his head was sticking out the window, his fist squished into his cheek to hold his head up.

“You wouldn’t answer the phone last night.”

“Take a hint,” he snapped, then slid the window shut with enough force to make it bounce halfway open again. He pushed it the rest of the way closed in a huff.

But Harry hadn’t driven away yet, so Louis slumped over in his chair and refused to look in his direction. Why the hell would he show up here? Just to rub it in his face? The new guy always loses the band argument. Louis was over it, and he had the faint remnants of a hangover to prove it.

He took a swig of his Coke that was now almost empty. No one ever left any napkins around here, but a few tissues seemed to do the trick to sop up that puddle. As he tried to avoid getting sticky hands, Louis could see Harry getting out of his car in the bottom corner of his eye. Then he heard the window opening again.

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry pressed. He had his hand in the way so Louis couldn’t shut it, but it did cross Louis’ mind to crush his fingers just to get him out of here.

“Go away,” he stated, pulling the roller blind between them. If only it was soundproof.

The blind sprung up again, revealing a wildly frustrated Harry on one side and an indifferent Louis on the other. He was pretending to read a copy of Vogue that one of the girls from the after-school shift left behind last night.

“We have a meeting with a record company in L.A. and they’re expecting a four-piece to show up. There’s no time to find a new bassist, so you’re back in the band.”

Louis folded down one corner and peeked his eye over Carrie Fisher’s head.

“How’d you get a meeting? The band sucks.”

Harry stared at him, angrily chewing on his lip, then turned around with a huff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, opening his car door.

Louis waited for him to start the engine and leave, but then the words “L.A.” and “record company” flashed with lights and sirens in his mind, and he imagined this opportunity driving off and never looking back.

“Wait!” Louis called out, tossing the magazine to the side and launching himself out the back door. He ran across the front of the car and slammed his hands on the hood so Harry couldn’t move the car an inch further. They eyed each other, and when Louis trusted that Harry wouldn’t speed off the moment he moved, Louis ran around to the passenger seat and got in.

Harry shook his head, both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for ten years, man,” he said.

So maybe Louis wasn’t being totally truthful about what happened with the band.

Louis met Harry in his first year of middle school. They ended up in the same gym class, which was hell for every twelve-year-old, but for people like Louis and Harry, it was just a little too much to bear. They found skillful ways to ditch whenever possible, especially when it came to running the mile. Sometimes they’d hang out near the back of the group when everyone was filling out the gym doors, then slip out the side and circle the building before the teacher saw. The equipment closet was full of plenty of hiding spaces that begged to be taken advantage of. The best days were when they had a substitute who wouldn’t even notice that they never came back from a bathroom break in the change room.

In high school, they drifted, hanging out in the same group of freaks and burnouts, but not often with each other. They’d find themselves at the same parties and bickering in the same cars full of friends, but that initial bond had faded. Once college rolled around, they weren’t surprised to find out they’d be going to the same state school, but discovering their dorms were across the hall from each other was quite the shock.

They had become inseparable again, except for the inevitable monthly fights that left them not speaking to each other for days at a time. That went on for about two years until Louis dropped out and Harry continued with his literature degree. During that time, they hardly saw each other at all. Louis began to wonder if their friendship had only ever been one of convenience. But just as the year of 1972 was beginning, Louis got a phone call from that on-and-off best friend of his asking if he wanted to join his band.  

Harry and Louis fought from day one, but just as much as they hated each other’s guts, they loved each other too. Louis would still consider Harry his friend, but he would have no problem telling him what an insufferable bastard he was right to his face. It was a brotherly bond. Sort of.

“How’d you get the meeting?” Louis asked, turning sideways in his seat. “When is it?”

“We sent in our demo and they want to talk to us. That’s it,” he said. “The meeting is next week and they want all of us there.”

“Me included?”

“You’re on the demo.”

The demo was pretty shit if you asked Louis, but he decided to keep that to himself. They recorded it at their old college in the crummy basement studio run by students, and you could guess that by the first listen. Louis looked out at the empty parking lot ahead of them. He had memorized every detail of this parking lot. It had become the scenery for his life. He couldn’t wait until he never had to look at it again.

“Do you actually want me back in the band?” Louis wondered, sincerity in his voice for once.

“I—” Harry started, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be at a place where you could be in the band without the two of us constantly at each other’s necks.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Louis sighed.

They sat in silence, Louis weighing his options and Harry wondering if he really should’ve taken that ignored phone call as a hint.

“So, what, is this to discuss an album deal?” Louis asked, hoping more detail might help his decision.

“It’s to discuss our potential. They didn’t tell me a whole lot, but if they want to spend their time on us then they gotta have some hope.”

A car horn blared loudly behind them, an impatient customer waiting his turn to desperately develop the photos from his five-year-old’s birthday party, surely. It startled them, but that was Louis’ cue to get back to work, he supposed.

“Can I think about it?” Louis asked. He was already halfway out the door.

“Not for too long. We meet them next week.”

The horn blared again.

“One second!” Louis called out. The guy in the car flipped him the bird and Louis wasn’t hesitant to send him one right back.

“What’s the label?”

“CBS,” Harry said.

Shit, Louis thought. CBS was no joke.

“Move your fucking car!” the guy behind them hollered out his window.

Harry glanced at the angry face in his rear-view mirror, then ignored it completely. Louis looked like he was about to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. “Before you go, take this.” He dropped a roll of film into Louis’ open palm.

Louis looked at it curiously, his other hand on the door handle. “What’s this?”

Harry laughed. “Photos I need to get developed. This is a Fotomat, is it not?”

“It is,” Louis said slowly.

“I’ll be back in twenty-four hours,” Harry said, plucking his sunglasses off the dash and sliding them onto his face. “For those photos and for an answer.”