#hide and seek across nyc

[gnomebud]

Jet Lag: The Game Season 13.5 — We Played Hide And Seek Across NYC

amy despair dot gif

bonus:

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/29/2025

made one of the best thrift store purchases of my life this week

listening

mental health watch: new mother mother single out and i have had that shit on loop basically all week. i would describe their (alt rock for chronically depressed girls resistant to most treatments) overall sound as “slippery”, but this song is slippery in the way the seaweed in miso soup is slippery. hope that makes sense. i heard the lyric “head shaker” as “exchequer” and this exact wording was stuck in my head for basically an entire shift at work.

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reading

still having a tremendous amount of fun with Charlaine Harris’ Gunnie Rose series. just finished the third one, i think whenever you can get away with a character that you can genuinely and seriously call “the tsarina of all the californias” you should push that as far as it can possibly go and she does!!! it is so refreshing to read a book by an author who knows what they’re doing. who knows how to write and pace a longer series and who knows how to effectively play with dramatic tension. the bar is So low but i have been wrestling through these horrible lesbian novels and (new for me) trying to take three or four of the little scifi paperbacks ive been hoarding to work every week to stash in my desk to read when it’s slow. all of them have been bad so far. like gang rape page two bad :/ love scifi the best and worst genre

yet another frustrating week in the lesbian mines. finally finished Flight Risk by Kim Baldwin and i do not think i can fairly review it, bc i tried to read it at work in tiny tiny chunks over too long a period of time (two weeks) and got really frustrated with it bc i forgot something that happened in the first chapter. im sure its a perfectly fine book if u read it in fewer sittings but now it is like. contaminated by several unpleasant work shifts and i simply don’t want to look at it any more. also they fucked in the literal last five pages which i find tremendously annoying.

Second You Sin by Scott Sherman (also mid-aughts) is about a nyc callboy (gay) who keeps accidentally stumbling into murder mysteries. i could easily image every line of dialogue by every gay character delivered by ru paul so it was not a book for me.

and then by far the most annoying book, Change of Heart by Linda Hill (1999 published by my worstie Naiad) bc it does not read like the author has ever been in any sort of relationship. even though she is married. to another woman. it’s hard for me to review this one fairly too due to my own massachusetts experiences.

At the age of 38, British supermodel Julia Westgate watches in panic as her career begins to decline -- and she realizes she is truly alone in the world. Deeply closeted, Julia has always limited her encounters with women to secret trysts and one or two night stands. While on a shoot in Boston, Julia carefully disguises herself so she won't be recognized, then sneaks out to a secluded lesbian bar. There she meets local journalist Cory Hayes, who is celebrating the publication of a hard won story. After spending a passionate weekend with Julia, Cory is devastated when she wakes up to an empty bed.

(ed note: they do nothing more than kiss in the entire book. it’s truly debatable if there was even tongue or not)

Weeks later in a supermarket check-out line, Cory's jaw drops when she sees an exquisite face on the cover of a fashion magazine -- a face that looks more than vaguely familiar. Thus begins an all-consuming game of hide-and-seek, with Julia trying to run from herself and her uncertain future -- and Cory willing to risk everything to find her.

(ed note: cory does some light snooping to discover her last name, makes some phone calls for a single afternoon, and then comes across her completely by accident almost a year later).

this book takes uhauling to new heights bc they adopt a special needs puppy the first and only weekend they spend together, wherein they don’t even fuck and Julia flees into the early morning without saying goodbye, leaving a note, and leaving most of her stuff behind. i know why Cory cant stop thinking about Jules nearly a year on (leaving without goodbye in the middle of the night and leaving almost all your stuff behind is objectively bonkers) but i have no idea why Jules is so into Cory. or what either of them see in each other. or really why they’re into each other at all. bc again. they do not do more than kiss the entire book and most of the book is them feeling kind of weird about this singular weekend. NOT that you have to fuck someone to know how to feel about them but my goodness! sometimes it certainly helps!

it is perfectly tailored to piss me all the way off bc Cory asks for a raise bc she impulsively adopted a puppy, and her boss not only gives her a raise and a promotion but also heavily subsidizes her new house she rents. which he owns. which was so far from MY massachusetts job/housing experience we might as well have lived on different planets. however this book really does nicely capture the complete unwillingness of the massachusetts wlw scene to like. do anything more than talk shit about a kind of weird date you were on once.

would have loved to read more of a May/December romance about an aging supermodel and would have loved to read more about the worries and fears of someone aging who hasn’t really put down roots or formed many friendships at all in her life or really interacted much with the queer community at large, but the age gap in actuality is quite small and Jules is mostly exotically British and worried about facial wrinkles.

deeply annoying experience that could not be written today in a post-MTV’s Catfish world

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watching

fallow week

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playing

woe woe unending woe in genshin. genuinely really annoyed that i pulled for Varesa (girl who is a cow) in bc guess who’s coming back in about a month? that’s right, yae miko. the only other character i desperately want. and she’s going to be on a specific banner that does not build pity for any other banner. and i don’t even have quite enough pulls for halfway to guaranteeing her. however. buying enough in-game currency to guarantee her would be about $120. which is simply goofy. she will come back around eventually, probably in a year and a half, and i will survive. i don’t even want her for team building or combat purposes. i just think she’s got a cool design and i want a matched set of her (pink) and her wife, the shogun (purple).

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making

one million small mending projects, including reinforcing the spine of some dorling kindersley BIG BOOK OF TRUCKS and BIG BOOK OF PLANES books for my bestie’s son’s birthday. no pics bc they were wrapped POSTHASTE!!!

also varied and assorted mending of clothes. managed to rip the casing for some pajama pants through brute strength and getting snagged on a kitchen cabinet knob, kind of half assed a ladder stitch, thought “that’s not going to hold” and then did a less half assed heavily overlapping cross stitch to reinforce (esp around the buttonhole opening for the drawstring) and then slathered it in fraychek.

likewise, my favorite obnoxious shirt had a rip up the side seam. carefully stitched it back up, blanket stitched the raw edge for a little more reinforcement without too much bulk, and slathered it in fraychek. u can see a much older repair there when it ripped horizontally from getting stuck in a filing cabinet drawer at umass lol.

and finally, some horrible shorts that were not adequate enough for my thighs, so i took the discreet one inch side vent and really opened that up to the bottom of the pocket seam. very annoying and fussy to match the topstitching and do two bar tacks by hand. the fit on the shorts is still not quite where i want them to be but they are at least wearable outside now. no fraychek here they’re nylon and got melted with a lighter as god intended.

[spidergrotto]

here is a bad draft people it is all i can give you guys i am so exhausted.

parker’s are good at running, it might just be their defining trait. may parker excelled at it, she picked up and moved cities and even the minorest of inconveniences. a fight between her and one of her new friends? she’s gone, a random bad week? you aren’t seeing her again.

so if things got rough, if she got in trouble or someone was upset with her— she ran as far away as she could.

just like her mom, just like her grandma. she ran and she never usually came back, not until ben.

ben who somehow convinced her to stay without even knowing it, ben who made commitment look appealing— ben who helped her look for jobs in nyc while packing her bags for australia, ben who never once pressured her into staying but all the same gave her the option to, ben who said yes when may ( dramatically ) asked him to marry her.

when peter came into their lives, despite everything— he somehow carried that parker gene, running away at every chance he got at every minor thing.

the two really did try to break him out of the habit, and technically they did; peter stopped running away at every argument or any failure. but that little habit was still there, his body choosing flight instead of fight when things got just a little bit too overwhelming.

but he didn’t run after ben passed, it was his fault it happened and he couldn’t just leave may behind after everything— so he stayed, he stayed and focused all of his attention onto school, taking care of may and the bills; and soon spider-man.

so when tony stark turned into more of a father than a mentor, when may was certain that both her and peter could trust him— she told him everything, forcing him to make a file about it all. reciting her own story; warning her of peters own tendency to run off because deep down she knew that if something happens to her peter would book it, he’d leave and god knows where he’d end up.

( skipping over endgame, tony lives because i said so? )

after may dies, peter had already made the decision to leave whether he realized it or not. the memory spell only made things easier, and while the plan WAS to visit dr.strange again and figure out a way to reverse the effects of the spell on the people he cared about, peter knew that the moment he thought it was safe he’d be out of there in seconds.

mj wasnt an idiot either, she had known of this character flaw for awhile and didn’t put it past peter. so when he promises to tell her the truth the second the spell is over— when he tries to convince her that he isn’t going anywhere, she rolls her eyes.

“just make sure you come back okay? i don’t care if you’re all the way in south africa fighting off a new villian of the day, or if you’re scared i’ll be angry, just make sure to come back.”

and ned shoves him into a hug, telling him that if he needs to run away from wherever the hell he ends up going to come straight to his apartment just like he did when he was younger.

peter doesn’t dignify either with a verbal response, he just nods— giving them a small smile, quietly promising that he’d find them.

and we cut to tony stark, freshly recovered ( he should NOT be standing, he had woken up just a week earlier. ) reading through dozens of corrupted files and comes across two titled “runaway parker’s” and “peter’s memory spell schematics.”

when did he start playing hide n seek with a vigilante teen? and why the hell did he have so many files for him and spider-man?

[nel-world]

hi

Act 1: Struggles and Aspirations

1. Rehearsal & Work Conflict

Bill rehearses a monologue in his cluttered NYC apartment, full of discarded audition notes.

His boss at a printing company calls—he’s needed at work.

At work, he’s assigned flyer duty on the street.

A passerby mocks him, his boss is unimpressed.

Bill stares into a diner restroom mirror, questioning his path.

2. The Audition & Disappointment

Bill rushes across NYC to an audition at a Broadway casting studio.

He struggles through his lines—the casting director looks bored.

Rejected again, he walks home in frustration and self-doubt.

3. Coping & Escape

Bill meets a bartender friend for drinks.

He dances at an underground club, numbing his disappointment.

Flashback (India, teenage years):

Bill, in Mumbai, performing a street skit for fun.

Elders scold him: “Acting won’t feed you. Get a real job.”

Bill watches a nearby fire, strangely drawn to the flames.

4. Family & Inspiration

Bill visits his sick father in their modest NYC apartment.

They watch Hess Show, a talent competition Bill once dreamed of joining.

Father: "If you'd stayed in India, maybe you’d have done something real."

Inspired, Bill submits an online application for Hess Show.

5. Atlantic City – First Attempt to Meet Rick

Setting: High-Roller Casino Lounge (Atlantic City)

Bill tracks Rick to a VIP poker room.

He tries to talk his way past security but is thrown out.

Rick watches from a distance, smirking.

A security guard warns Bill: “You don’t want this fight.”

6. Setbacks Continue

Bill’s car gets towed after a long night.

His boss berates him for missing work.

Another failed audition—Bill feels completely stuck.

7. Social & Career Crossroads

Bill’s friend invites him to a party, urging him to network.

There, he meets Amy, a playwright working on a musical.

At another audition, Bill botches it but reconnects with Amy.

Act 2: Discovery & Creative Pursuits

8. New Connections

Bill starts therapy after Amy suggests it.

He and Amy bond over her musical script.

9. Flashback – Bill in India (New Scene)

Setting: Remote Indian Village (Years Ago)

Bill, in his early 20s, sits alone by a bonfire.

The fire crackles as he watches the flames, lost in thought.

He picks up a burning stick, letting the fire touch his fingers—but he feels nothing.

His breath slows.

A realization dawns, but he quickly drops the stick, afraid.

Transition to Present Day (NYC)

Bill, in his NYC apartment, stares at his hands.

He slowly lights a candle, finally accepting his power.

“The fire never left me. I just stopped listening to it.”

10. Supernatural Awakening

Bill burns himself on a candle but feels nothing.

He tests himself further—his body is immune to fire.

He pushes the limits, his powers growing.

11. Creative Synergy

Bill and Amy develop her musical together.

Bill juggles work, his father’s care, and acting dreams.

12. Career Ups and Downs

Bill lands a role in a Netflix pilot but gets fired after a few days.

His bartender friend offers him a dangerous gig—Bill refuses.

13. Tensions & Revelations

Bill argues with his friend, who collapses mid-conversation.

Bill realizes his friend is hiding a severe illness.

14. Violence & Survival

While filming a self-tape audition in an alley, Bill is attacked.

He fights back, discovering his healing factor and heightened reflexes.

He escapes, exhilarated and terrified.

Act 3: The Battle for Truth

15. Breaking Free & Seeking Justice

Bill quits his printing shop job.

In his father’s old documents, he finds proof that Rick scammed him.

16. The North Carolina Trip – Gathering Evidence

Bill travels to North Carolina, meeting Eddie Wells, Rick’s former accountant.

Eddie hands over bank statements and hidden transactions.

Rick’s men chase Bill through rural roads—he escapes using fire-powered attacks.

He sends the evidence to hacker Tina, setting Rick’s downfall in motion.

17. The Final Confrontation

Setting: Rick’s Private Club (NYC)

Bill sneaks into Rick’s club, disguised as a waiter.

Rick, smug, taunts him:

“You should’ve stayed out of this.”

Bill reveals the leaked evidence.

A fight erupts.

Rick’s men attack—Bill dodges bullets, melting weapons.

Rick vs. Bill one-on-one.

Rick pulls a gun—Bill extinguishes the bullets mid-air.

Bill engulfs Rick’s arm in flames, incapacitating him.

18. Public Exposure & Resolution

FBI raids Rick’s empire—Rick is arrested.

Bill’s father smiles weakly:

“You did good, son.”

19. Bill’s Journey to India

Setting: Mumbai, India

Bill returns home for the first time in years.

He walks through old streets, visiting his childhood theater.

Flashback:

Young Bill watches actors rehearse, dreaming of being onstage.

Voiceover (Bill writing his solo show):

“I thought I had to leave India to chase my dreams. But my dreams started here.”

Bill lights a candle in a temple, staring at the flame—it flickers but doesn’t burn him.

20. The Grand Canyon – Bill’s Reflection

Setting: The Grand Canyon (Sunset)

Bill sits at the canyon’s edge, writing his solo show.

He practices monologues under the open sky.

A campfire flickers nearby—he doesn’t test his power, he embraces it.

21. Amy’s Message

A video from Amy arrives:

“You didn’t need their stage, Bill. You built your own.”

Bill watches the canyon view, peaceful.

22. Final Scene: A New Beginning

Back in NYC, Bill walks confidently.

He passes a store window with a candle—it flickers but doesn’t burn him.

He smirks.

Fade to black.

[tayliviaspeace]

Day 2 of analysing Taylor in quarantine

Day 2: cardigan

1 sentence summary: This is basically Betty, many years in the future, talking about what a mess her first love was, but how she is still with him now.

"Vintage tee, brand new phone High heels on cobblestones When you are young, they assume you know nothing Sequin smile, black lipstick Sensual politics When you are young, they assume you know nothing"

Taylor is talking about her albums as well as the love triangle. In her albums, 'vintage tee' is debut, 'brand new phone' is fearless, 'high heels' is speak now, 'cobblestones' is red, 'sequin smile' is 1989, 'black lipstick' is reputation, and 'sensual politics' is lover. In the love triangle, the vintage tee is something Betty keeps from James. The new phone symbolises a new start after he cheated on her. She moved away and completely changed herself. 'When you are young the assume you know nothing,' references James in 'Betty,' when he says, 'I'm only 17 I don't know anything.' Betty is smart and knows that however old you are, you do know things, which is why she sounds kind of resentful when she says that. Taylor could also be telling this to her past self, 'make your voice heard.' She is showing people that if you take time to educate yourself, you can give your opinions and people won't take advantage of your silence, because you won't be silenced. 'Sequin smile, black lipstick,' is her at the 2016 MET Gala, where she met Joe. Sensual politics is when she started speaking out, trading her sweetheart image for someone thats more forceful and who uses their voice. She also addressed sexist comments and things that have happened to her as a woman in the music industry.

"But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby, kiss it better, I"

Taylor shows lovers when the wear jeans and Levi's is a jeans company in the US. This shows an ending where James and Betty get together. Like Taylor did with Betty, she's allowing you to pick the end. This shows Betty's idea of love and how she and James are together. 'Drunk under a streetlight,' references Betty, when they stopped at a streetlight. It could also reference Cornelia street on 'Lover,' when they're drunk on something stronger than the drinks at the bar, which is true love.

"And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favourite"

Betty feels like she has done something wrong, that she is unlovable, which may be a reflection of how Taylor felt in 2016, before Joe. Betty and Taylor show quite a few similarities here. They share the feeling of being vulnerable, and the fear of not being wanted. They also share the feeling that when the right person comes along things make sense and you feel a different way, which is a thought shared by all humanity. That's something I love in Taylor's writing. The songs aren't just for her. It's always so relatable. 'Putting on' could be putting a show and faking feelings, and it could also mean literally putting on a cardigan, which highlights the

"A friend to all is a friend to none Chase two girls, lose the one When you are young, they assume you know nothing"

This is showing what would happen in the event that James and Betty don't get back together. He cheats on her with Augustine, and he lost the love of his life in that process. Taylor left the ending very open ended so the listener can pick their ending. The repetition of 'when you are young they assume you know nothing' sounds like James constantly trying to get Betty to see perspective and forgive him. It also reminds me of 'only the young,' and how the line goes against the song, and the fact that only the young can change anything and that they have the power. But if you don't know anything you don't know what to change which makes this interesting.

"But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes, I"

Betty knew that James would never be honest about his feelings and in doing so he was hiding his feelings. However, he spends his weekends with her, but this could show him toying with her feelings as hide and seek is a game. High Line is a place in NYC, which could show a new start for Betty. She broke up with James and she's in NYC now (I've always imagined the love triangle to be like a small town scandal [that rhymes]) and she never imagined she'd meet James there, which is why it's only something that'll happen once in 20 lifetimes. 20 could also hint to how long Taylor's career has been and what she has gone through in the 20 years.

"And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favourite"

Same thing as above. The repetition also highlights how this is something people feel constantly, and a feeling that is repeated through the years.

"To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleedin'"

This is referencing Betty, where the line is "kissin' in my car again," and downtown bars is probably a place where Taylor and Joe went (a dive bar on Eastside). It also references earlier in the song, where they're drunk. James made Betty feel like she was special and he healed her from past wounds, but when he cheated on her, he gave her more things to need healing. It was as though he put a band-aid on her wounds, but when he cheated on Betty, he ripped it off.

"'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing"

This is relating to 'champagne problems' in evermore, where its 'you took the nigh train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt', which is probably talking about James' feelings when Betty didn't take him back. I love how the song [cardigan] is open ended for the listener to pick the ending they want. Bloodstains are hard to forget and James and his mistakes were hard on Betty and may have shaped how she feels about people later. Betty knew that James wouldn't give up very easily and he tried to change both himself and how their story ended. Betty's father may have left when she was a child. Sometimes people don't take the news of a child well, and they leave, and Betty could have associated James to her father. Water doesn't stop running, it moves like time, and if you want to move with it you need to make the effort. James refused to grow up and accept that he had cheated on Betty, and he kept saying, 'I don't know anything'. That isn't an excuse you can use after sometime.

"But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasin' shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back"

A tattoo is something that's permanent, and James is Betty's first love. No matter how hard you try to forget, you can never forget your first love, and you always think that would my life now be different if I didn't do this with my first love. They're in your thoughts a lot, and there's some sense of permanence in it. Betty is going against James, and saying that your excuse of not knowing anything is rubbish. You had us both at one point and now you have neither. She also knew that he was cheating on her and that once he felt guilty for it, James would make amends. 'Standing in my front porch light,' is another reference to Betty, where James says 'I'm here on your doorstep'. Like Betty said, James does come back to her.

"And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favourite"

When this ends the song, from Betty's perspective it looks like they got a happy ever after, because despite everything that James put her through, he showed more genuine care and love for her than anyone else, and he made Betty feel special.

Overall review: I love this song so much!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love the meaning, the message, everything. One of the messages I think the song is trying to get across is to give second chances and people change. The ones who truly love us are there for us, and will apologise for their mistakes. I'm very optimistic in thinking they [James and Betty] get together and she forgives him.

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

Kittens for Quarantine (1/2) (CSJJ Day 16)

A/N: I originally came up with this idea during lockdown in 2020, when YouTube channels like Kitten Academy and Kitten Lady were essential to my sanity (what little of it there is).  I hoped to have it finished in time for today, but it turned into more of a beast that I anticipated, so I’m afraid I’ll have to post it in two parts.  Part 2 will come in Feb, as to not distract from any of the wonderful CSJJ pieces scheduled for the second half of January.  

Thank you @csjanuaryjoy​ for all your hard work organizing this event!!!

Trigger warning: Pandemic. 

Summary: During a storm, a stray cat runs into Emma’s home. Killian, Storybrooke’s new shelter manager, comes to help her out but some more unexpected arrivals mean Emma and her son are going to need a crash course on cat and kitten care.  

AO3

                                                           ~*~

Arms laden with bags of groceries and rain pelting her face, Emma Swan struggled to get the key into the lock of her front door.  Wet strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face, obscuring her vision even more.

Just as she was about to give up and call her 12 year-old son, Henry, to come open the door for her, the key slipped into the lock.  Emma shouldered open the door before dropping the bags onto the floor so they held it open.

"Henry, come start putting the groceries away," She yelled into the large house.

Too large of a house for just the two of them, honestly, but Emma had fallen in love with the blue Queen Anne Revival-style home when her realtor first gave them a tour, even though it was a little of a fixer-upper.  At over 100-years-old, that was to be expected.  It had been a little out of her price range until the City of Storybrooke helped her secure a better mortgage deal, as long as she agreed to restore the home to its former glory.  

The arrival of her help was preceded by loud thumps as Henry ran down the stairs.  He flashed her a grin as he grabbed a couple of bags and hauled them to the kitchen.

With a shake, Emma prepared herself to brave the raging storm once again to retrieve the remaining bags.  She'd hoped to be home before it started, but Leroy's van broke down in the middle of Main Street and she'd needed to help divert traffic until the tow truck could get there. She was lucky, she reminded herself as she loaded her arms up with bags, that Storybrooke was such a calm town and rarely needed its Sheriff for anything serious enough to keep her from getting home on time.  A far cry from her years working as a bail bonds agent in Boston.

A streak of lightning blinded Emma for a moment as she made her way toward her house, followed shortly after by a large crash of thunder.  She hoped that the storm wouldn't damage any powerlines.  She'd just bought two pints of ice-cream... which were sitting on the kitchen counter, melting, with no Henry in sight.

With a frown, Emma kicked the door shut.  It wasn't like Henry to abandon a job half done, nor to abuse ice-cream in such away.  After dropping the bags on the kitchen floor and her reusable fabric mask in the basket marked "Dirty", she washed her hands before going in search of her son.

"Kid, where’d you go?" she called out.

Emma almost missed his reply thanks to another crash of thunder but she was just able to hear enough to determine he was upstairs, and she found him in her bedroom on the top floor.  He was crouched on the floor and looking underneath her bed.  Henry looked up when she entered and told her, "I saw something small run into the house while you were outside and followed it in here. I think it’s a cat."

Emma blinked in shock. A cat?

She joined Henry on the floor and peered under her bed.  A pair of yellow eyes set in a colorful face stared back at her.

Wide-eyed, she sat back on her heels.  There was definitely a cat under her bed.  Not an ideal situation but it was a hundred times better than the other likely hood, a raccoon.

"Umm... I guess we should call David?"

Henry nodded in agreement.  Emma's good friend and Deputy was the head volunteer for the local animal shelter and would be able to arrange for someone to come and get their interloper. After she shooed Henry back downstairs to finish putting away the groceries, Emma called David.

He answered with a cheerful "Emma!"

“A cat ran into the house and is hiding under my bed," she blurted out.

There was a pause before David let out a boisterous laugh. "Sorry, sorry," he said, sounding breathless, "that was not what I was expecting."

"Neither was I," she replied.

David chuckled at her sardonic tone. "I'll give Killian a call. He'll be able to coordinate someone to come help you out."

"Who?"

"Killian Jones, the new Shelter Manager the City hired. He started about six weeks ago, not long before lockdown started."

Emma vaguely remembered a discussion during a City Council meeting last year about a grant from the state to expand the shelter, which also allowed for more full-time staff to be hired.  But she didn't recall anything on the topic after that.  Of course, she could barely remember what happened last week since 2020 was so chaotic.  

"I don't think I've met him yet," she admitted.  Normally, Emma made a point to introduce herself to new people who moved to town.  But with social interaction outside your household being discouraged due to the pandemic, she wasn't doing so.

"He used to help run a not-for-profit rescue group in NYC," David told her. “Grew tired of city life, though, and wanted a change."

Given the current situation in NYC, he was lucky to have moved to Maine when he did, Emma mused.

"Anyways, I'll give him your number so he can reach out."

After a quick thanks, Emma ended the call.  With a sigh, she stretched out on her stomach and eyed her unexpected guest.  The cat hadn't moved and continued to stare back at her.  Its face was a mix of black, orange and white. The pupils of its eyes looked fully dilated and its ears were flat and sticking out sideways, which worried Emma until a quick internet search informed her that the cat was probably anxious or afraid and unlikely to become aggressive unless they began to feel threatened.  Which would probably be the case if Emma tried to remove the cat from its current hiding spot on her own.  As much as she didn't want to invite a possible stranger into her home, much less her bedroom, she also didn't want to risk getting bit and/or scratched, and having to make a visit to the hospital as a result.

Resigned to waiting for the animal expert, Emma heaved herself up off the floor.  She left the cat trapped in her bedroom and made her way downstairs.  Henry already had most of the groceries away, except those that needed to go in places he couldn't reach.  Though with the way he was growing, it wouldn't be long before she would need to find a new hiding spot for her secret stash of chocolate.

Her phone rang around 10 minutes later, vibrating loudly on the kitchen table.  Since it was a number she didn't recognize, she hoped it was Killian Jones or another shelter volunteer who could help her out.

"Is this Emma Swan?" A surprisingly accented voice replied to her casual greeting.  At her affirmative, her caller continued, "this is Killian; David told me you have a bit of a problem with a stray cat.''

"You could say that. It ran inside and has taken up residence under my bed."

A deep chuckle reverberated across the line. "Probably seeking shelter from the storm.”

Honestly, Emma couldn't blame the cat for wanting inside where it was warm and dry.  She'd done the same during her time on the streets, even going so far as to break into empty houses when desperate.

"I'd rather not call out any of the volunteers in this weather, but it'll be around an hour until I can make it over to help you out. Will that be alright?"

Emma's nose scrunched in annoyance at having to wait, but reminded herself that this wasn't exactly an emergency.  After telling Killian that would be fine, they ended the call and Emma text him her address.

To pass the time, Emma set about making a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup for Henry and herself.  They were doing the dishes, her washing and him drying, when there was a knock on the door. They both donned clean masks before she pulled the door open and she found herself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.  They and some black eyebrows were all that was visible of the man's face, since he wore a beanie pulled low over his forehead and a colorful paw-print patterned mask.

"Emma Swan, I hope?" The man – Killian - asked.  She nodded and quickly invited him inside as lightning streaked across the sky.  She didn't want another startled animal running inside after all.

Killian removed a wet rain jacket, plaid scarf, and beanie, hanging them on the coat tree by the door.  His dark hair was flat against his head thanks to the beanie until he ran a hand through it, mussing the strands until they were casually messy.  He wore a dark button-up under an equally dark vest – who still wore vests - with the top few buttons undone, revealing a decent amount chest hair and the chain of a long necklace.  This was paired with tight, black jeans that hugged a trim waist above sturdy looking boots.  

Emma wasn't sure what she was expecting someone who ran an animal shelter to look like, but sexy punk-rock professor wasn't it.  When her eyes returned to Killian’s face, she realized that he must have been aware that she’d been checking him out because she was met with a raised brow and amused blue eyes.  She’d bet money that he was smirking beneath his mask as well.

“The cat is upstairs,” she announced before turning around to hide the blush she could feel making its way up her neck.  She listened to Henry regale Killian with the tale of the cat’s sudden arrival as she led the way upstairs.  At her door, she paused.

“Excuse the mess.  We only moved in a few weeks ago,” Emma murmured, suddenly feeling the need to explain the piles of boxes still scattered around her room.  

Killian’s soft laugh sent a shiver down her back.  “Don’t worry lass, I won’t judge.  Been in my new place for nearly two months and still have a fair few boxes left myself.”

With a sharp nod, she let Killian into her room, but directed Henry to remain in the hall.  She stood back as Killian set down a small cat carrier she hasn’t noticed before and kneeled next to her bed, peering under it. She tried not to watch as his jeans hugged his shapely ass even more than before.

Killian raised his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “Lass, there is no cat under there.”

“What?” Emma immediately dropped down and looked for herself, but Killian was right.  There was no cat underneath her bed anymore.  She jumped up and looked around for any other places where a cat could go.  The door to her ensuite bathroom was closed, as was the one to her closet.

“She’s probably behind some of the boxes.”  

They started checking the various nooks and corners created by the haphazard piles of boxes.  She was about to pick-up a partially open box labeled “blankets” when she heard a small squeak come from within it.  Startled, she slowly lifted the flap of the box to peer inside.

“Umm…” was all she could initially get out.  “I found the cat.”

Killian appeared at her shoulder and let out a surprised “oh!” when he looked down.  Inside the box was not only the cat from earlier, which Emma could now see was a calico, but also two small, squirming kittens.  One was black with little white paws and the other looked to be a calico like the mother.  

“Look at you,” Killian crooned at the cat as he folded back all the flaps of the box. “Such a good mom, finding somewhere safe to have your babies.”

Emma marveled at how small the kittens were and couldn’t bring herself to be upset that they’d been born on one of her favorite knit blankets.  Everyone one, cats included, deserved a safe, comfortable place to give birth.

Killian slowly reached his hand into the box.  The mom cat watched attentively but didn’t make any move to stop Killian as he carefully grabbed the black kitten and lifted it partway out of the box.  It let out a high pitched squeak and flailed its small limbs as Killian checked it over.  As he did so, Emma noticed that he was still wearing a glove on his left hand and that it appeared oddly stiff.

“I think that one is a little boy,” he whispered, placing the kitten back at a nipple to nurse.  He repeated the processes with the calico kitten, who he declared it was most likely a girl.

“Male calicos,” he told her in a calm, soft voice, poking around the mother cat’s belly as he did so, “are extremely rare and only happen because of a genetic abnormality.”

Emma didn’t know enough about genetics to really understand why that would happen, but she would definitely look it up later.  After another minute, Killian pulled his hand from the box and sat back.  “It doesn’t feel like she has anymore kittens in her, so these two are probably it.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? Less for the shelter to take care of.”

Killian’s hand rose and made to rub across his face, obviously a habit, but he caught himself before he touched his mask.  “I’m afraid the kittens complicate things.”

Emma sighed.  Of course it would.

“The shelter isn’t set up to care for cats with kittens this small,” he informed her, “most aren’t, so they rely on people willing to foster the families until they can be adopted out.”

Killian scratched behind his ear as he continued, “Storybrooke doesn’t have a large foster network to begin with and very few are willing to care for mom cats with new kittens. Those that can are already doing so and I don’t think any of them will have space for more for another couple of weeks.”

This wasn’t completely new information.  David often complained about the lack of foster families in town and how often they needed to reach out to nearby organizations for help.  It was one of the main reasons David convinced the City to apply for the state grant program to improve the shelter.  

“Can you take them?” She suggested, hopeful.

With a sad look in his eyes, Killian shook his head. “I have two orphan litters at home, one of which is only three weeks old.  I wouldn’t be able to provide an appropriate level of care for any of them if I took in another.”

The idea of orphan kittens hit Emma right in the heart.  Orphans, no matter the species, were always a sensitive topic for her because of her past. She studied the two wiggling kittens nursing away in front of her for a moment.  Killian was regarding her with an unreadable expression on his face when she looked back over at him.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take care of these three until I can arrange another home?”

Emma blinked in shock. “What? I don’t know how to take care of a normal cat, much less one with kittens!” She exclaimed.

“It’s not that hard, really, I promise,” he held his hands up in front of him to convey his honesty at her suspicious look.  “Leto here does all the hard work.  You’ll mostly just be feeding her, checking the kitten’s weights to make sure they’re getting enough milk, and socializing them a bit.”

“Leto? You’ve already named the cat?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed and scratched behind his ear.  “Aye, Leto.  She was a Greek goddess and one of Zeus’ lovers.  Her story came to mind earlier and the name stuck.”

Incredulous, Emma could only stare at Killian, who flushed under her scrutiny.

“What is her story?” Emma eventually asked, curious.

“Leto is considered the goddess of motherhood or a protector of the young. But she is mostly known for being the mother of the goddess Artemis and god Apollo.  But when Leto first became pregnant, Zeus’ wife, Hera was enraged and made all lands shun her to prevent her from having anywhere to give birth. Eventually she came upon the newly created island Delos, which was not yet attached to the earth and therefore wasn’t land.  There she was able to finally give birth.”

Even Emma had to admit that the name was appropriate.  “So the girl is Artemis and the boy Apollo?”

Killian nodded.

Emma shrugged. “Works for me. Now, how do you socialize a kitten? I imagine it doesn’t involve signing them up for extracurricular activities,” she joked.

“Handling them in order to get them accustomed to it.  Basically playing with kittens, but with purpose.” From the crinkles next to his eyes, Killian was grinning under his mask.  

“Won’t that make her mad?” Emma nodded at Leto, who was currently licking Apollo’s head.

Killian shook his head. “She let me handle them without a problem, so I doubt she’ll object to you doing so.  Why don’t you give it a try?” He encouraged.

After taking a fortifying breath, Emma slowly reached into the box.  Like before, Leto watched Emma’s hand intently but did nothing to stop her from grasping little Artemis and lifting her up.  The kitten let out a squeak that caused her mom to lean forward and sniff at her for a moment, but they both settled down a moment later. Emma held the kitten for another minute before setting her back down.  

There was pride in Killian’s voice when he told her, “She trusts you.”

Her own voice held a touch of awe when she replied, “I guess she does.”

They sat and watched the little family of three for a couple of minutes before Killian broke the silence to ask, “So, will you take care of them?  At least for a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah, I guess I can.”

An exuberant “Yes!” came from the door of her room and Emma looked up to see Henry watching from where her door was opened a couple of inches.  A door she distinctly remembered closing.

Killian gracefully rose from the floor and immediately held out his hand to help her before he remembered the “no touching” rules they all lived under now.  He pulled his hand back with a frustrated growl, the sound of which did wonderful things to Emma’s nether regions.  She clenched her legs together as she stood, inwardly curing that such a simple sound turned her on.  She’d have to deal with that later.

“I’m going to grab some supplies from my truck that you can use,” Killian told her as they left her room. “Can you two get a medium sized box and some towels or blankets together?”

With a nod, she and Henry collected the items in the empty room Emma intended to one day turn into an office. When Killian returned, he cut a large hole in the front box and then a small one at the back, through which he threaded the cord of a heating pad.  He added a folded towel along the bottom before placing the entire thing within a large dog crate.  An old blanket, small litter box, and water and food dishes went in as well.

At each step Killian explained what he was doing and why, and she watched as Henry soaked up the information like a sponge.  “The heating pad needs to be plugged into a secondary thermostat in order to keep it from becoming too hot.”

Soon the whole set up was ready for its new inhabitants and Emma carefully carried the box with Leto and her kittens down from her bedroom.  At Killian’s direction, she placed Artemis and Apollo into the new box.  Soon her kitten’s squeaks drew Leto’s attention and when she hopped out of the blanket box and went into the new one to retrieve them, they shut the crate door behind her.  She paced around the crate for a moment before going into the box and curling up with her babies.

Killian draped a large blanket over the crate, “Its best to leave her be for a bit to let her get settled in.”

The cat crisis taken care of, the three of them made their way back downstairs.  Henry immediately started texting photos of Leto and her kittens to all of his friends.  They were, she was quickly informed, insanely jealous.

“I’m sure they are now. Send them some photos of you scooping the litterbox tomorrow and I bet they’ll be less envious,” she informed her son, which earned a chuckle from Killian.

He chimed in with, “People often forget the less glamourous side of having pets and how much work it can be.”  He’d definitely know all about that, running a shelter.  

As Killian looped his scarf around his neck, he asked, “I’d like to come back tomorrow to check-in on Leto and I’ll also bring some more cat food, if that is alright.”  

Emma nodded, thrilled that they would still have his help in taking care of Leto and her kittens.  She was also glad that it meant that she would see Killian again, as ill-advised as socializing was right now.  Not only was he handsome, even with half his face covered, but he was a pleasant person.  Obviously caring, given what he did, and he had a sense of humor.

“I left a cheat-sheet upstairs that has what you need to do and how, as well as what to look out for.  But if you have any questions, any at all, you can call me,” Killian assured her, “Day or night.”

As much as she would love to hear what Killian’s voice sounded like when he first woke up, she didn’t want to rely on him too heavily.  He did have a full-time job and two litters of kittens to care for, after all.

“Any other resources you recommend we check out?”

For some reason, her questioned caused Killian to blush.  “Oh… um…” he stuttered. “I actually have a small YouTube channel about pet fostering, specifically cats, that you could check out.”

Watch video of Killian playing with kittens?  No way was she going to pass that up. “I’ll definitely check it out.  What is the channel called?”

If possible, Killian’s already flush skin turned even more read.  

“It’s KillyKat.”

                                                          ~*~

A/N: See you in Feb!

[willow-lane]

I saw [WILLOW LANE] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [MADELYN CLINE]. They are a [TWENTY-THREE] year old [WAITRESS] who’s been in NYC for [A YEAR] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [SPONTANEOUS AND FREE SPIRITED] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [NON-COMMITTAL AND SELF-INDULGENT]. [OUT OF THE BLUE BY KATIE PRUITT] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. / @villagestart​

Hello everyone! I’m Ella and I’m super excited to be part of this roleplay and introduce Willow to all of you, she’s a new muse but she’s based on an old muse of mine so I think I have her figured out or mostly lol. I’d love to plot with all of you, so please like this or hmu. If you want my discord, I’d be happy to give it to you, just ask :D

basics

NAME: ava willow lane

NICKNAME: will, lolo, pillow

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: burlington, vermont

DATE OF BIRTH: september 28, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: waitress

NEIGHBORHOOD: brooklyn

background

Burlington was a dream within a dream, the station next to heaven. A town in love with itself and whose residents gloated about the wooded land, creased by hills, and threaded by streams. 

The Lanes were living the typical American dream: the big house with the white picket fence, a large backyard and two perfect children. It was dreamlike.

Their kids could count themselves lucky and Willow Lane certainly did for most of her life. As the youngest daughter of a successful surgeon and a renowned psychotherapist who taught at the University of Vermont, she was taught that receiving an education was the only way to get ahead in life.

Her parents made sure to set their kids to success and while most of the kids from her street were out there playing, she was holed up in her room, reading the stacks of encyclopedia books her parents bought me for her birthday. 

As a young child, Willow was filled with a sense of wonder, and encouraged by her curious personality she wanted to learn everything.

By the time she was in the sixth grade, she was smarter than most of the kids in her class, still her parents reminded her every day that she must outrank them all. Her parents took pride in her achievements. They were quick to boast about it in public, but they remained strict in private. Anything less than gold didn’t deserve a place on the wall.

Her afternoons were always full. Whether it was ballet class, french lessons, piano lessons or soccer practice. She had no time for herself.

Then high school started and by then she was overworked. Tired of chasing perfection and only being met with a “try harder”. 

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION, VOMIT MENTION, PANIC ATTACK: While she was still number one at her school, it was taking everything in her to keep it that way. Her parents didn’t know about those panic attacks she suffered at night or how she threw up before any competition. To them, she was handling well and she was very good at pretending but she also had a little secret. In her sophomore year, she was introduced to Adderall and she was quickly hooked. END OF TW

When she got accepted into a prestigious university, her parents didn’t hesitate to brag about how their kid would attend an Ivy League but Willow was mortified. 

Back in Burlington, she was the biggest fish in the sea but at Princeton there were students who were better and shone brighter than her. 

Maybe it was because she was suddenly cast into a whole new world that was so different from the one she grew up in. Maybe it was because she had harbored a bit of resentment towards her parents for her wasted youth. Whatever it was, by the end of her freshman year, university had swallowed her up. 

TW ALCOHOL, DRUGS, DEPRESSION She got into a bad crowd, drank herself into oblivion, partied harder than anyone, and developed a penchant for bad boys who were much older than her. All this while trying to maintain a perfect GPA. Thanks to her magic pill, she was able to function and not feel guilty about not being as perfect as her parents wanted her to be. After all, she was only trying to recover the freedom that they took from her. 

But this coping mechanism only turned to worse. The more she tried to drown her feelings in alcohol, the harder it came to bite her in the ass. It was clear as water: Willow Lane, picture perfect daughter, was depressed and had been for a while, and now it had caught up to her. 

She was fighting a battle she was slowly losing. Willow was in a constant state of helplessness, staring into the void, and completely unable to pull herself out of it. If it hadn’t been for the upbringing she had, she would have been completely fine with self-destruct. END OF TW

The summer after her freshman year, she came back home and decided to have a talk with her parents. Her parents sat across the table, and they were not celebrating the end of a successful first semester, instead, they were fuming with betrayal. 

Willow told them that she had dropped most of her classes and she explained to them how she was exhausted beyond repair. They were displeased, so disappointed that looking at them was painful. For the first time in their life, their perfect daughter had failed them.

By the end of the evening, her father was livid. Threatened her that if she didn’t take more classes and got excellent grades he would stop paying her tuition. That’s when it hit her. To her parents, she was nothing but an object, an accomplishment to brag about to her friends. That was not love, that was selfish and a wake up call.

She packed up her stuff that evening, went back to Princeton and emptied her dorm as well as she dropped out completely. 

Freedom at last. With only a few bucks in her account, she bought a random bus ticket that took her to Montreal, Canada where she stayed for a couple of weeks, while working as a waitress before she moved to a new location. For the past three years, Willow has been living off a backpack. 

She moved to New York a year ago, but she comes and goes. Whenever she gets bored or too attached to someone she escapes. 

She’s been clean for three years when it comes to Adderall, although she still drinks but only socially.

personality

Despite her strict upbringing, Willow is a free-spirit! She’s always looking for a new adventure and she wants to live her life to the fullest, she doesn’t care about rules or schedules. She lives a pretty hedonistic lifestyle, always chasing a high in life and sometimes that makes her take some reckless decisions. A naturally loving person, Willow is always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or offer to wipe off your tears, however, she does struggle with connections. If she feels a deep connection with someone she runs away as she believes that being attached to someone will tie her up to one place and as we know, Willow lives a pretty nomad life. She keeps coming back to New York because she loves the vibe but when she gets bored or overwhelmed she leaves without warning. As loving as she is, she can also be ruthless and cold, especially when feeling vulnerable. She has a sharp tongue and it’s not afraid to hurt some feelings if that means shattering the pristine image some people have of her.

headcanons

She has a rib cage tattoo that reads “Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.” It’s a quote from Sylvia Plath.

Speaks French fluently and sometimes she likes to pretend she’s a lost French tourist just for fun.

Volunteers at the animal shelter. Because she doesn’t have a set home, she can’t have a pet but she loves animals.

Never has enough battery on her phone and sometimes she sings in the subway to earn some coins because she tends to forget her wallet.

Really good friends with the homeless woman who lives down her street, she brings her food from the restaurant.

Keeps many scrapbooks from the places she’s been.

Sometimes she goes to music stores and plays the piano, one of the few activities she enjoyed as a child.

Loves reading and whenever she’s not getting in trouble or working, she’s at the library.

Wears too many rings, so don’t try to mug her.

connections

Older brother: Willow has an older brother who followed her parents’ plan. He graduated college and now has a very important job. Willow hasn’t spoken to him in three years, even if he’s tried to contact her. She just doesn’t want any ties to her old life, including her family.

“Best Friend”: I put it between quotations because she doesn’t stay in one place long enough to actually form long lasting friendships but this person is the closest to that. She adores them and actually sends them a postcard when she leaves.

Partner in crime: As stated, Willow is pretty reckless and she does a lot of stupid shit but she’s always seeking for someone to be her partner in crime and just go crazy with them.

Co-workers/Clients: She works as a waitress at a restaurant (if your character has a restaurant let me know, bc idk where she would work). 

Neighbor: She lives in a small apartment in Brooklyn with two other roommates, it’s not ideal but it’s what she has.

College friends/hook ups: Oh during her college year, she was a party girl and she made a lot of “friends” (She attended Princeton btw) and also hooked up with a lot of people (f/m/nb), most of them were older than her.

Flirtationship: She is a natural flirt and she doesn’t even try to hide it.

Unrequited: Maybe your character has a crush on her (and depending on chemistry maybe she does as well but since she moves often she tries to ignore it). It’s angsty, it’s fun, give it to me. (f/m/nb)

Hook ups: Y’all know the drill

Bad tinder date: Willow thought it would be fun to go on a tinder date and she proposed some crazy scheme and they both had to spend the night in a jail cell.

Roommates: She lives in Brooklyn with two more roommates.

[cricketnationrise]

Reading Roundup: June 2021

previous reading roundups

like 80% of these are from my local library | averaged 1 book per day

The Ladies Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite: book 1 in a series. romance. sex on the page. wlw lady scientists! historical! astronomers pretending to be men in order to be published!

Prime Deceptions by Valerie Valdes: book 2 in the Chilling Effect series. should definitely read them in order. rag tag cargo ship crew gets more and more embroiled in an intergalactic conspiracy

Milk!: A 10,000-Year Food Fracas by Mark Kurlansky: non-fiction, the history of milk and its by-products. examines how cultural norms around drinking milk has shifted as well as how gender roles in a dairy have shifted. contains delightful sketches of milk-producing animals and funny chapter titles.

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston: wow wow wow wow wow wow i love this book so much. i didn’t know i wanted stuck-in-a-time-loop-wlw-riding-the-subway romance but that is for sure what i got. features a scene that directly makes fun of Bella Swan googling information about vampires. so that’s fun.

The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows by Olivia Waite: book 2 in a series. romance. sex on the page. older women protagonists, a beekeeper and a woman who runs a printing press. interesting historical backdrop. don’t need to have read them in order.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman: alternating pov YA novel. what happens when you get contacted to do art by your favorite niche podcast and it turns out to be made by the person who lives across the street from you? chaos. chaos happens.

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles: towles’ debut novel. set in NYC from Dec 31, 1937 - Jan 1, 1939. rich people problems as experienced by a person who is not rich. 4 parts, each labeled with a season.

Hitman Anders and the Meaning of It All by Jonas Jonasson: a hitman, a motel receptionist, and a priest come up with increasingly convoluted ways to make money. they accidentally start a religion. humor.

People I Want to Punch in the Throat: True(ish) Tales of an Overachieving Underachiever by Jen Mann: non-fiction/memoir, taken from and expanded blog posts, follows Jen Mann through meeting her husband and having kids and having to deal with living in the suburbs and all that that entails

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld: reread. book 1 in the Leviathan trilogy. alternate universe WW1. the son of archduke ferdinand of austria is spirited away the night his parents are assassinated in order to protect him. deryn is a girl disguising herself as a boy in order to join the british air force. their paths cross. alternating pov. very cool worldbuilding that is vaguely steampunk-ish.

Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language by Gretchen McCulloch: non-fiction. a look at how the internet has changed language/writing. fascinating read.

Song for a Viking by KJ Charles: short story set in the Think of England series. follow up to Think of England. sex on the page.

Think of England by KJ Charles: historical m/m mystery romance. sex on the page. stuck in a manor house mystery. warnings for blackmail, kidnapping, murder, being left in a cave, violence, period typical anti-semitism/racism/homophobia

Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld: reread. book 2 in the Leviathan trilogy. must read in order.

It’s In His Kiss by Julia Quinn: book 7 in the bridgerton series. historical romance. sex on the page. don’t need to read in order, but it helps.

On the Way to the Wedding by Julia Quinn: book 8 in the bridgerton series. historical romance. sex on the page. don’t need to read in order, but it helps.

Proper English by KJ Charles: historical f/f mystery romance. prequel to Think of England. sex on the page. stuck in a manor house mystery. warnings for murder, violence, period-typical racism/homophobia

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas: literally read it one sitting. YA m/m romance. trans male protagonist. accidental ghost summoning, dia de los muertos. warnings for youths with shitty home lives, homophobia, transphobia, kidnapping, violence against children/teens, blood

Because of Miss Bridgerton by Julia Quinn: book 1 in the Rokesby series, a prequel series to the Bridgertons. historical romance (revolutionary war era england). sex on the page. frenemies to lovers.

Sabriel by Garth Nix: book 1 in the Old Kingdom series. fantasy. when her father, the Abhorsen, who’s job it is to make sure the dead stay dead, goes missing in the land of the dead, its up to Sabriel to figure out what happened and how to save the Old Kingdom where magic is alive and kicking.

The Bridgertons: Happily Ever After by Julia Quinn: collected short stories. a second epilogue for each main book in the bridgerton series. also contains violet (the mom’s) story

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by NK Jemisin: book 1 in the Inheritance trilogy, fantasy, with her grandfather stepping down as emperor, he names 3 heirs who must duke it out to the death. the gods are watching and in some cases, meddling.

How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole: book 2 in the Runaway Royals series. do not need to read in order. f/f romance. sex on the page. sort of an Anastasia retelling.

To Seek and to Find by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 1 in a trilogy.

Hands of My Father: A Hearing Boy, His Deaf Parents, and the Language of Love by Myron Uhlberg: non-fiction. growing up in the depression in NYC as a hearing boy with 2 Deaf parents and an epileptic younger brother. includes how his parents met and fell in love.

Nevertheless, She Persisted: Flash Fiction Project: tor.com published short stories by a variety of authors including Seanan McGuire and Charlie Jane Anders. All start with/feature the phrase: “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.”

To Have and to Hold by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 2.

To Love and to Cherish by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 3.

Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan: YA f/f romance. private school. warnings for racism, homophobia, toxic relationship, alcohol use, teen on teen violence (one girl gives another a severe allergic reaction).

Highfire by Eoin Colfer: the last dragon in the world just wants to be left alone in the swamp where he is hiding to watch TV. Squib just wants the police officer to stop hitting on his mom and make some money. the crooked police officer wants to take over the local mob boss’ operations. their lives intersect. warnings for: kidnapping, violence against women/children, murder, blood, removal of toes, dismemberment

[cagestark]

Winterspider prompt if you're game! There's a meme about a poor college student being robbed; the robber, upon learning just h o w poor, stopping and giving the (empty) wallet back and being sincerely concerned. "You... you live like this?" What if the winter soldier/bucky barnes breaks into struggling college student Peter parker's apt and all his pre-serum steve instincts are triggered by the state of the place and how /tiny/ Peter is (abo/soulmates/soulmarks/werewolf au for spice up to you)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

This prompt came into my house and stole my money. This is CHAPTER ONE. Because I was so inspired that I’m officially making this my first multichap fic. I hope this will appease you for now…And I hope you can forgive me for making it winterironspider (I’m a sucker for starker/winteriron so it all just clicked together nicely). Please come back into my inbox and let me know what you think so far.

Warnings in this chapter: graphic descriptions of being poor. Bucky says fuck A LOT. Peter is 24 but Bucky keeps calling him “kid” because he’s so small. Sickness. 4.1k

-

Bucky can pick a lock in ten seconds flat.

It’s a science: tension wrench goes into the keyhole, the slightest torque is applied, then his favorite pick—the Bogota with three rakes, as of late—goes in and he scrubs the hell out of it until the plug turns. Easy as fucking pie.

The hard part (and he’s not counting the guilt, the horror he would feel if Tony ever discovered how Bucky makes the money he uses to buy his lover trinkets) is scoping out the right apartments. He sticks to NYU residence halls, early mornings and late at nights because the security is usually lax enough to let him through without even checking his ID—if they ask? Oh fuck, I left my wallet in my Uber. Maybe he hasn’t left yet, one sec—and then he’s out of there.

Today, it’s the Lafayette Hall between China Town and TriBeCa, reserved for graduate students seeking their Master’s Degrees in science fields.

It should be empty. On campus is an expo featuring innovators from Sphere Fluidics, Fasmatech, AcouSort, and NanoTemper Technologies which—according to the flier Bucky read online—are huge names in the science industry, all displaying their scientific discoveries from the last business year and scouting for fresh blood.

Any science major worth a shit will be there, he imagines. But it’s mandatory for NYU grad students. Score.  

Content that the apartments will more than likely be empty, Bucky chooses the first hit at random after taking the elevator up: apartment 2B. It’s furthest away from the security camera at the other end of the hall—not that Bucky has ever left behind a reason for those cameras to be checked. It’s the principle of the thing, really. He keeps his back turned, hair in his face, both hands gloved (thank God it’s always cold and dreary in NYC, so his gloved hands don’t draw any attention) while he scrubs the lock. It takes him no longer than it might for anyone with a legitimate key, and then the door is open and he is in.

Bucky can see decently in the dark, the light from the hallway disappearing as the door is carefully closed behind him. Holding his breath, he stills himself, calls upon his enhanced senses, and listens: but there are no sounds coming from the apartment. Empty.

Then he actually takes in the place, and he realizes that that word fits in multiple ways.

The apartment is vacant, he thinks at first. There is the basic furniture all the NYU apartments come with: a refrigerator, a couch, a coffee table. But there is no television, no end tables. There are no curtains on the window across the room—and wow, what a lovely view of the brick building across the alley. The entire place smells musty and unused. Maybe it really is empty—

But no. Little signs of life appear. There are shoes by the door, ones that saw better days many, many days ago. On the wall, a photograph is tacked there, unframed, of two boys on either side of a pretty, dark skinned girl. A plastic grocery sack is dangling off of the drawer handle of one kitchen cabinet, sagging with contents that he can’t make out through the opaque plastic.

Someone does live here, they’re just terrible at decorating.

With careful, silent steps, Bucky moves deeper into the apartment. He doesn’t bother looking for a wallet—that will be with the owner—but usually there is money somewhere else. If he’s really lucky, he’ll find whatever he’s looking for.

Today, he wants blank CD’s. Last night, Tony showed him a movie where the teenage love interest burned—(“why’s it called that, Tony? You don’t burn the thing, do you?”)—a CD with love songs. It was real romantic shit; something Bucky never got to do. Something that he longs to do with this amazing man in his life. He can imagine the look on Tony’s face when he listens to a compilation of all the awesome music he’s introduced Bucky to, and it makes his heart race.

The Best Buy downtown sells a pack of five CD’s for $6.99 plus tax which brings the total to $7.61. That’s all that he needs. He could probably take that and more from any one of these apartments and the occupants would never notice. He isn’t hurting anyone. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

Then—jackpot. On the counter is a line of change: neat stacks of quarters and dimes, taller piles of nickels and pennies. Palming it, he cups one hand under the counter and slides the coins home into his hand. A quick count tells him that it’s just $2.30. It’s probably change for the vending machines downstairs, maybe fare for the bus. Nothing that will break this grad student’s bank.

For a moment he contemplates leaving the apartment. He’s almost got a third of what he needs for the CD’s. But breaking into another apartment just escalates the risks he takes, unnecessarily so when the rest of the money could very well be in the bedroom or even in the pocket of some jeans resting on the bathroom floor. No. He’ll press on.

Walking silently, he brings up the floorplan of the apartments in his mind (NYU had all that shit online; didn’t they know how unsafe it was? This world made information so available). The bedroom is on the left, past the kitchen. In the dim light through the window, he can see the door, open, a dark gaping mouth that he slips through soundlessly. It is even darker here, and he stands still waiting for his eyes to adjust further. It’d be no good to go fumbling around in the dark, knocking into furniture.

It only took moments, but as soon as he could make out dim shapes, he heard it. A little whimper. The rustling of sheets. Everything in him went still except for the blood in his veins, propelled by his furiously pounding heart. Someone is here. Bucky broke into an occupied apartment. He is standing in the doorway to a bedroom and there is someone sleeping in the bed.

He gets a glimpse before he can slink back into the living room, and what he sees stops him in his tracks. It is a boy—or a very small man, perhaps, considering these apartments are for graduate students only. The boy is wearing just a pair of boxers, some dark color—red or navy or even black, perhaps, since colors are distorted in this low light—but there is no hiding or distorting how thin he is. The shadows between his ribs are little valleys to the pale, jutting mountains of bone, rising with his fast, shallow breaths. The collarbones protrude, limbs fine-boned and so skinny that Bucky could probably wrap his fingers around an entire ankle or bicep. His face is smushed against one pillow so features are indistinguishable, but the mop of messy curls on top is unmistakable.

There is no bed. There is no bedframe, no mattress, no box spring. A pile of threadbare blankets and sheets are entwined into a makeshift nest, like the kid is some little bird.

After taking in the sights, he takes in the smell. It’s strong—damp and musty, like the windows have never been opened. The pungent scent of sweat. The overly sweet scent of cough syrup, though the two bottles on the nightstand are upended and empty.

Mostly, the acrid smell of sickness. A bucket is beside the bed, and the smell of vomit gets stronger the closer he comes—why is Bucky walking forward? He should be walking away, far, far away.

The boy whimpers again, rolling onto his back more. Sweat coats his skin, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest is even more pronounced in this position, tummy a hollow little thing. This boy is sick, very sick from the smell and the heat that Bucky can feel when he places his hand above the boy’s head, hovering over the skin.

“Ben!” The boy shrieks. Bucky jerks away and nearly topples the trash bin of vomit. His heart is pounding, thinking I’m so sorry Tony, so sorry that I’m going to get caught and get arrested and that you’re the only person in the world I’ll have to call, and if you don’t want to bail me out I’ll understand, I really will—but the boy sleeps on, lips moving. He is dreaming the feverish dreams of the sick.

Carefully, Bucky stands. He backs from the room. On his way out, he takes in more details even if he doesn’t want to: a name-badge for the building and NYU campus (which he takes, which he should have seen on his way in and known that it would be wherever the student was—complacent, he’s gotten too fucking complacent), the silver duct tape on the bottom of the kid’s shoes which holds them together. The past-due notices on the refrigerator. The paper plate resting in the sink, plastic cutlery that has been washed and re-used countless times. The kid is poor. So fucking poor.

And he can’t help that it reminds him of another sickly poor boy from nearly a hundred years ago. He remembers it like it was yesterday, fuzzy memories that Princess Shuri helped turn clear: a thin pale Captain America, the chest-deep coughs that would rattle his whole frame when he was sick, sitting by his best friend’s side through the night just to mop his brow and make sure he didn’t choke on his own sick. His stomach aches, twisting inside out with phantom hunger pains. Stepping into that apartment made him feel like he’d entered a time machine back to the Great Fucking Depression.

Another thought comes: what if the kid needs a fucking ambulance? What if he’s in there, brain frying from his fever? What if he throws up and aspirates? That will be on Bucky. There’s no way that he can walk away from this—not if it could add an(other) life, like a notch, to his murderous bedpost.

Palms sweating, he looks down at the badge he left with. Peter B. Parker. It’s a cute name—Bucky’s always had sort of a thing for alliteration. The picture of the kid is shy with the closed-lip smile and the rampant curls falling onto his forehead. He was skinny to begin with, but not malnourished like he is now. The badge will let him come in through the back doors. Because apparently he is planning on coming back.

Bucky pulls out his cellphone, mostly unused, and makes a call. While he talks, he takes the stairs down so that he doesn’t lose the call in the elevator.

Tony picks up on the second ring. “Hey Bucky, everything alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” In the background he can hear the sound of a door closing, and Tony’s voice grows more familiar, softer and more comfortable. He must have been around company but left.

“You only ever call if you’re about to break the law,” Tony says fondly.

Is he really so predictable? Well, in this case, he’s already broken the law, though that’s hardly a point that he wants to make. “No. it’s—nothing like that. I was just wondering about the credit card you gave me.”

“Oh? Thinking about blowing the dust off it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. He hates it—hates being like the other million people in Tony’s life who just take his money. The fear that this man who has helped Bucky salvage himself, salvage the will to live life, to carve out a life he wants to live…the fear that he’ll think Bucky is just with him for the money is unconquerable. Tony gave him the leather wallet and the credit card years ago, and Bucky has never once used it. “Just a bit. Twenty dollars. Thirty at the most, Tony, and I swear I’ll pay you back—”

“Hey, hey, no need for the freaking out. Mi dinero es su dinero, polar bear. Buy whatever you need.” He pauses. “Are you in any trouble? I don’t know if you need me to emphasize this, but there’s probably no trouble you can imagine that I can’t get a person out of.”

“I’m not in trouble,” he says, hoping Tony doesn’t notice the unconscious inflection on the word I’m. “But I’ll remember that. I promise.”

“Okay. Great. That’s all I need to hear. Thai, tonight?”

Bucky can’t help but smile. He pushes open the back door to the building and steps out into the street, angling his face away from the security camera at the alley entrance on instinct. The wind is blistery, whipping his hair around his face. “I’ll be there.”

Tony hums. “I can hardly wait.”

They exchange declarations of love and say goodbye. Bucky feels a little choked up, how he always feels after hearing Tony say that he loves him. His eyes sting—but that’s just the wind. Honest. Down the street is a pharmacy and Bucky ducks in, head down. There’s an entire aisle for cold medicines, and he takes far too long examining all the bottles. Thank God there are ones that seem to treat everything: headaches, fever, nausea, cough. Everything except for the kid’s destitution.

He sees the chicken noodle soup and he grabs some of that as well.

Checking out is awkward; Bucky slides the card upside down at first. Then he’s unsure: credit or debit? He clicks credit since it’s first, but then he has to sign and he has a new dilemma. Should he forge Tony’s signature or put down his own? The card has his name on it, but it’s Tony’s money. In the end, he writes his own name. Forging feels too…familiar.

With less than twenty dollars spent, he trudges back down the block to the apartment building, and it isn’t until he’s swiping the key to get into the back door that he realizes he has no fucking idea what he’s going to do. Knock on the kid’s door? Hey, I broke in earlier and saw you were sick and out of medicine, here’s some. I’ll put the change I stole back on the counter. Sorry to fucking bother you?

Bucky Barnes, former assassin for Hydra, absolute dumbass.

Absolute persistent dumbass. Because he knocks on the door. He really fucking does. And when no one answers, he knocks again and again until he hears movement on the other side of the door (a chest-rattling cough that makes him shudder) then the door is cracked open and a bloodshot, honey-brown eye is staring out at him.

“Hi,” Peter croaks. His voice is wrecked, and it immediately does things to Bucky. Things that are wrong, especially considering that his voice isn’t croaky because of a cock nudging too persistently at the back of his throat, but because he is fucking sick. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to help you,” Bucky says. Peter’s eyebrows furrow. It’s cute. He’s wearing a shirt that is far too large for him, and pajama pants so long they slip down past the backs of his heels. “I’m—visiting one of your neighbors down the hall. You’re keeping everyone up with your cough, kid. I brought you some medicine.”

Peter opens the door wider, so that Bucky is seeing all of him instead of just a two-inch section. He rests against the doorframe because he’s swaying, struggling to keep on his feet, and he is so tiny, so, so tiny. The smell of him is foul, but Bucky would never mention it. “Gosh,” Peter says, and Bucky is horrified to see tears, real fucking tears fill his eyes. “I didn’t know I was keepin’ everybody up.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bucky says. People say that, sometimes, to horses that are likely to buck off their rider or men who pull out guns in gas stations. Bucky figures that he should probably use either of those situations as reference for what to do now, because how to comfort a crying kid was not in the Winter Soldier’s repertoire. “Don’t shoot.” Fuck. Try again. “I mean—it’s not your fault. You’re sick. Obviously.”

Fat tears roll down Peter’s cheeks. It impedes his breathing even more, until Bucky is afraid that he’s going to choke on his own phlegm. When he speaks, he tries to keep his voice even and clear through his hitching breaths. The shirt slips off his shoulder, bones protruding. “I-I-I know. It hit m-me a-all of the sudden. But now it won’t go away.”

“Have you tried going to the doctor?”

Peter’s smile is downright tragic. He looks like he wants to reach out and pat Bucky on the cheek, call him a sweet summer child, ask him what pipe he smoked to have such a dream. “I d-don’t have insurance. I’m still trying to p-pay off my debt from last year when I had my tonsils removed.”

“And they—what—they won’t treat you? Just because you needed treating once before? They’re fucking doctors!”

“I know,” Peter whines, rubbing a wrist at his leaking nose. The door opens even wider. “Would you like to come in?”

Bucky sees the irony. He really does. A half hour ago, he was in this apartment robbing the kid. Now he’s standing at the kitchen counter watching Peter make ramen noodles (“my aunt always said that when someone is in your house, you should treat them like they live there”). He nearly burns his hand on the pan, and that’s when Bucky moves to take over, stirring when appropriate, adding a packet of flavoring. Peter pulls one bowl down from the cabinet—the cabinet that is unbearably empty from the quick glimpse Bucky gets of it.

“I only have one bowl, I’m sorry,” Peter says, face red, eyes downcast. His hands shake while he ladles the soup and noodles in. He gives Bucky one of the plastic spoons—it’s clean, he knows—but the whole thing is so fucking sad. When Peter glances over the counter, muttering something about some missing rent money, that’s it. That’s it for Bucky.

I’m taking him home with me, he thinks, nudging his spoon against the noodles in his bowl.

“I’m Peter, by the way,” the kid introduces himself. Then his face goes white, shaking intensifies. “Excuse me.”

Bucky hears him vomiting even through the walls between them. There isn’t much to come up, but the retching lasts forever it seems, the boy dissolving back into tears. Instinct says to go to him, but Bucky doesn’t want to be anymore of a fucking creep than he already is. When the vomiting turns to coughing and then to gasping, Bucky decides fuck it. He is a fucking creep. But he’s not going to let the kid pass out and crack open his head.

Peter is in the bathroom, bowed over the toilet, curls matting to his forehead with his fever. Bucky goes through drawers until he finds a washcloth and wets it from the sink, the water stinking of iron, to at least dab at the back of the kid’s neck. He shivers, but sighs into it, his wheezing breaths slowing.

When at last he leans back, his cheeks are red and wet. “Thanks,” he croaks. Bucky just mops at his forehead, avoiding the comical look of relief and pleasure on his face.

“You need a doctor.”

“Can’t afford it,” Peter mutters, reaching out to flush the toilet. Bucky practically carries him back to the kitchen-living room combo, setting him down on the threadbare couch.

“I’ll pay,” Bucky says. Then he winces—because it isn’t really his money. It’s Tony’s money. How can he just promise Tony’s money to this kid? But he can pay Tony back. No matter how long it takes or how hard he has to work. He’s got decades and decades left to live. He’ll spend them all trying to repay Tony’s kindness and love as it is. What is this one extra debt?

“What?” Peter asks, his eyes glassy with fever. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“A trip to the doctor costs hundreds of dollars, not to mention if I’m really sick, I’ll need medicine which will cost even more. I’m not taking that kind of money from you.”

“I’m rich,” he half-lies.

Peter looks him up and down, the worn boots, the soft but unremarkable jeans, the gloves that he’s still wearing even though they are indoors. While he doesn’t look destitute, the idea comes across loud and clear: Bucky sure doesn’t fucking look rich.

He sighs. “Fine. It’s my boyfriend. He’s rich.”

“You want me to take your boyfriend’s money? I’m—what? I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Bucky,” says Bucky. “And my boyfriend is Tony Stark.”

Peter’s mouth clicks shut. His eyes clear a little, the name cutting through the sickness. “Tony Stark.”

“Yeah.”

“The billionaire.”

Bucky can feel himself smile against his will. “Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, superhero. Yeah, he’s the one.”

Peter reaches out and puts his burning hand against Bucky’s forehead. “Maybe you’re the one who is sick,” he teases weakly.

“I’m serious,” Bucky says. He pulls out his phone and Googles it—hopes the kid doesn’t see the tab of Lafayette Hall dorm room floor plans that was previously open. Then he brings up the tabloids. He and Tony aren’t in the news as often as they were years ago when they first started leaving the Tower together to do couple-things, but the articles last forever. There’s a nice one detailing all about Tony’s promiscuous love life, how everyone thought the bisexual ways of his youth were just a phase. Until Bucky.

The pictures are clear. Peter’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re dating Tony Stark. Oh my god. I’m—I’m his biggest fan. Oh my god. I think I’m going to pass out. I’ve—” the kid goes red as a beet, “I’ve had a crush on him since I was like, like this tall.”

Judging by the height of his hand when he holds it up, Peter’s been harboring his crush on Tony since ever. And yeah, Bucky gets it. His lips can’t help but quirk upwards—Peter is so fucking cute, even with he way his cheeks are hollow, eyes sunken. He lights up when he talks about Tony. Bucky is the same way. Tony inspires that in people.

“I’ll pay for you to go to the doctor. See? I can afford it.”

Peter gnaws at his lower lip. “But why? I don’t get it. Because I’m keeping everyone on the floor up? That doesn’t—this is weird.”

“Because you remind me of someone I used to know. My best friend, from when I was a kid. He’s—he’s not around now. But you two would have gotten along well, I think. And he would’ve kicked me in the ass if he knew I just walked away when I knew you need help.” He can see the indecision on the kid’s face, the wavering teeter-totter of what he wants to say (yes yes yes) versus what he thinks he should say (no, but thank you). Bucky has an ace up his sleeve: “Why don’t you come back to the Tower with me? Meet Tony. He’ll tell you all this himself.”

“I couldn’t!” Peter nearly shrieks. He coughs, and Bucky waits patiently for him to finish.

“You could. You totally could. You will. I’ll call a car—”

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers under his breath, his whole tiny body going lax and weak like a woman from Victorian times, likely to swoon at any moment. Where are Bucky’s smelling salts? “Oh my god,” he says, soft and to himself. “I’m going to meet Tony Stark.”

Bucky can’t help it. He grins, pats awkwardly at the kid’s shoulder—and Jesus, he’s a tiny little thing, still burning up under Bucky’s grip. “He’s going to be thrilled to meet you.”

-

Peter insists on showering and changing his clothes. Bucky steps out into the hallway to call Tony back and warn him—and ask him to send Happy or one of the self-driving cars. Anything to avoid taking a cab or the subway.

“Twice in one day,” Tony says when he picks up the phone, forgoing a greeting. “Aren’t I a lucky man?”

“I’m the lucky man, ‘s far as I can tell,” Bucky says lowly. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Tony’s expression, the ridiculous fond face he makes when he looks at Bucky. “I had a favor to ask of you, though. A big one.”

“Anything for you, frosted flake.”

“Send a car to the address that I text you? And—order Thai for three?”

[wordynerdygurl]

Winter’s Warmth

Author’s Note:  This is a little story for my Fairy Godmother, Suzz, who magically helped me get tickets to see Betrayal on Black Friday!!!  It’s my first time in NYC and she’ll be with me when I see Tom on that stage.  She’s an woodland witch, incredible friend, and like I said… magic.  Also, the GIF is of Jonathan Pine but I love that coat!

Summary:  Winter in the woods… how do you spend a day?  Outside in the snowy silence, your God, Loki to keep you warm!

Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  Fluffy smut!

“Little one?  I’m going to find you… and when I do… oh, you’ll wish that you hadn’t hidden from me.”  Loki’s voice rang out menacingly through the trees.  A scarlet cardinal, shaken by his presence, streaked from one branch to another drawing your eyes off of your pursuer.  

You silently prayed Loki wasn’t able to hear the thump of your heart.  If it was anywhere as loud as your panting then he would find you in no time.  Plus, it was hard to hide the warmth of your breath in the snowy cold of November and you needed to stay out of sight.

Clinging to the tree trunk that is your refuge, you heard Loki.  Closer now, false reasoning in his tone, "Dove…  Be a good girl and come out of your hiding spot.  I promise I’ll be… gentle.” With sneaking steps you crept around the pine that has been your shield.  Swinging your gaze from side to side there’s no sign of Loki but somehow you know he is on to you all the same.  Dropping low, you dash towards the nearest grove of silver birches eyes watchful for the dark God chasing you.  

Sensing your movement, Loki’s head snaps towards you, watching as the black of your boot tucks into the thicket you’re now using for cover.  He slinks, panther like, stalking you with an evil smirk splitting his face.  Your tracks in the snow are so visible that they might as well be an arrow pointing out your location.  Slowly, carefully, Loki rounds the copse of white skinned trees.  “Gotcha!” Squealing, you take off in the opposite direction, sliding in the slippery slush.  Your laugh echoes off the dusky woods as you dart left, looking for cover under the heavy, snow filled branches of an ancient evergreen.  But it’s too late.  

You feel Loki behind you.  Facing him, you fake right, dodge left, but the Trickster anticipates your steps.  Grabbing you from behind in a bear hug, Loki announces, “The day is mine, kitten.  All that’s left is declaring me the winner!” “Never!”  You twist away, intent on running again.  Loki gains on you, determined steps pushing you back until you collide with the trunk of another forest giant.

Smirking, “Never?  But Little One, I’ve beaten you at hide and seek.  Now, you must pay me my due.” “You cheated.  I don’t know how you did, but I know you did it.”  Sticking out your bottom lip, that way Loki cherishes, you pout.  

Shaking his head, Loki admonishes you, “Me?  How dare you.  Fair is fair, kitten.”  Holding out his hand, Loki motions for you to hand over his prize.

“Fine.”  You unzip your parka.  Your nice, warm parka, and place it in Loki’s arms.  Shivering a bit from the loss, you feel your nipples harden in the cold air, a thing that catches Loki’s eye.  Licking his lips in want, he adds, “Your turn.” Closing your eyes tight you count, “One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, TEN!  Ready or not, here I come!!”

He leaves no tracks in the snow.  Damn his magic, you mentally curse.  It made the fun one sided.  But then you hear the small snap of a twig in the distance and you barrel in that direction.

A flash of green draws your attention.  Turning that way you call out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”  

There’s another crunch, closer to you now, so you slowly wind towards it.  Eager to catch Loki, you circle around a set of saplings already sagging under the weight of snow and stop to listen.  A low whistle had you spinning your head, a glimpse of Loki’s green jacket streaking past in the opposite direction, and you were in pursuit.

“Almost got me, pet…”  Whisper soft, seemingly in your ear, you heard Loki’s voice.  Backing against the trunk closest to you, you flattened out, ready to catch him.  Bracing your arms around the rough bark, you inched towards the other side, smiling at your all but won victory.

“What the hell?”  Loki grabs your wrist holding it tightly to the tree behind you.  Before you register what’s going on he’s on you, his lithe body pressed to yours, pinning you in place.  Eyes dilated from the thrill of the chase, a stray lock of raven hair flopping forward, Loki had never looked so daring… or more dangerous. “Loki.  This is cheating.”  Your breath hitching from the combined effects of exertion in the cold and the closeness of your competition.  It’s infuriating the way your stomach flips at his nearness.  Your body flushes in a pantie soaking spasm of arousal at Loki’s bold play.  “No it isn’t.  You win this round, Little One."  Brushing his knuckles down your cheek, cupping your chin, "Congratulations.”  His kiss is rushed, crashing your mouths together, tongues tangling.  

Pushing away from you just enough, lusty eyes locked on yours, Loki unbuttons his own wool coat.  The black Henley he’s wearing accentuates his lean frame and you lick your lips, tasting his kiss, eager for more.  When he hangs his jacket on an obliging branch, the tiniest bit of Loki’s belly is exposed, a crescent moon of manliness.  Your desire to taste that pale stripe is overwhelming.

Having thoroughly invaded your personal space, muttering lowly, “Come on, Loki�� It’s freezing out here!”  

"You wanted to play Strip Hide and Seek, little one.  I’m merely complying with your wishes.”  Refocused on you, Loki parts your legs with his thigh, his thick muscles grating against your center.  It’s not enough to find relief, not yet, but the slow burn he’s started in you is catching fire.  

Twinkling eyes, full of mischief, are as bright as his smile.  “I know it’s cold.  It makes your cheeks a lovely shade of pink.”  Loki was close enough now that his heat was yours.  A warm hand grazing up your neck, thumb brushing over your full bottom lip, tugging your mouth apart.  

Loki licked into you then, forced to swallow your guttural groan, as your lips opened to his.  Slower, smoother now, Loki tasted the roof of your mouth.  The scent of snow, spearmint toothpaste and that electric flavor singular to him, made craving Loki your only thought.  You fought against his grip ravenously desperate for more.  He pulled away from you then, leaving you in that wanting state, starving for Loki’s carnal attention.

Tongue clicking, “Not so fast, darling.”  Slowly, painfully slow, Loki undoes the buttons on your thick flannel shirt.  His hands, hot in the day’s chill, cup your exposed breasts over your bra.  Your exhaled moan fogs the air between you.  Tugging the fabric of your bra down, your exposed nipples tighten painfully, the cold acting on your body instantly.  To his credit, Loki lowers his mouth to one.  The contrast of his fiery flicking tongue and the icy atmosphere making you squirm against the rough bark behind you.  

“Damn… Loki!”  You clench your fists in frustration.  How lovely it would be to return the favor, give Loki a little bit of the pleasant pain he’s forcing on you.  It’s just that every time you lift a hand he drags it back to your side, or worse, pins it over your head.  

Kissing down your uncovered belly right to the edge of your button fly, Loki chuckles at your obvious excitement.  Goosebumps rise on your naked skin, “I know it’s cold, pet… but I’m going to warm you up.  Have no fear.”

Deftly, Loki opens your jeans.  He’s desperate to get at your sweltering sex.  Over the plaid cotton of your panties his fingers mold to your female form.  Your pants, unfastened but not removed, help hold his hand to your heat.  There’s no wiggle room, so when Loki presses the fabric into your crease, rubbing the heel of his palm across your straining bundle of nerves, you shiver.

“Is that because of the temperature?  Or perhaps, it’s this?”  Loki husks into your ear before nipping the lobe.  You tilt your head back, gasping, and that’s the moment he glides one long digit into your core.

A wanton wail escapes you echoing across the forest floor.  “Shh!  We don’t want to scare the wildlife, darling!”

“Loki!  Sorry… sorry.  I’ll be quiet… just don’t stop?  Please?”  What are you saying?  You don’t really know, it’s all mindless pleading babble.  All you can focus on is him, the hot warmth of your arousal and the numbing cold of the air.

“As if I could stop, my spirited snow bunny."  Without warning Loki adds a second finger to his digital assault.  Stuttering, you curl towards him, engulfed in his mighty presence, stifling another sob.

Your body is acting on pure impulse.  When Loki presses into you, probing deeper, your slick arrives in earnest.  "Your wetter than ever, pet.  I think you like this… do you?  Tell me.”

Fluttering open, your heavily lidded, lust filled eyes linger on Loki’s blues.  “How much I like your touch?  A lot, Loki.  Too much, Ok?”

Smirking at you, Loki lowers his head and kisses you.  This time it’s hard and deep, sucking the air out of your lungs, weakening your already wobbling knees.  Reaching for him, your hands free, you anchor yourself.  One clings to Loki’s shoulder and the other wraps around the wrist of the hand giving you so much pleasure.

With a devilish drop in his tone, Loki rumbles, “And what would you have next my freezing fox?”

“All of you, Loki.  I want it all.”  Growling in feminine need denied, you rolled your hips, Loki’s dexterous fingers gripped tightly by your velvet walls.  

It’s his turn to growl.  Pulling from you with a grunt, lowering himself onto the plush bed of fallen pine needles at your feet, Loki takes your pants with him.  “Your boots have to go.”  It’s a command and you take two seconds to kick them off.  

Loki basks in the sight of you.  Jaunty winter cap, pom pom flopping to the side, makes your hair stick out at odd angles.  A pout on your puffy lips as your cheeks turn rosy from the exposure makes Loki bite his own on impulse. 

He swallows hard at the state of you.  Top unbuttoned, breasts bare to the nippy climate, nipples puckered in exquisite pain.  Underwear gone, tangled with your jeans, exposing the tender lower lips of your womanly body.  Legs uncovered, feet cozy in thick, fuzzy socks.

Funnily, you aren’t cold.  Faintly flushed with the excitement of Loki’s teasing after running around after him has left your body warmed over.  Alight with arousing ardor you raise an eyebrow his direction, “Like what you see, Mischief maker?”

Stepping closer to you with a rueful chuckle, “Certainly, my Snow Queen."  Nuzzling your cheek into his open palm, Loki cradles you, pulling your near naked body against his clothed one.  The way he rubs against your heated skin is almost too much to bear.

Again Loki claims you with his mouth.  Teasing you with his tongue, his kiss ferocious, deepening with each sigh that escapes you.  Your hands find a home in his ebony locks, tugging him, guiding him, using him to your own ends.

Breaking your kiss with a small sigh he trails toasty pecks along your jaw.  Loki bites down your neck, hovering over you, sandwiching you between his unbearable firmness and the unyielding strength of the trunk behind you.  Whining in a whisper, "Why am I the only one undressed?”

“Because that’s what I want.  You, shameless, exposed and mewling."  Those big hands slide over the satin of your thighs, lifting your knees, wrapping you around his hips.  Loki’s rigid length searches for a snug seat inside you blocked only by his dark denim second skin.  The frazzling friction of fabric makes you dizzy.  "Loki!  Please…"  

He doesn’t have to hold your squirming form.  The bark, scoring scratches into your back, means you’re trapped.  Instead of hanging onto your dusky hued demigod you reach for the solid spruce you’re being rocked into.  Its natural presence grounding you, connecting you to the solid earth, even as Loki’s hard cock and hungry kisses send you soaring.

Pressing his hips to yours roughly, the button of his jeans flexing against your fleshy pearl, Loki rips his shirt off in one motion.  He’s a vision, hard planes of smooth muscle, sparse raven chest hair curling southward.  The moan you release is as involuntary as the clench of your belly.

"No more words."  

Nodding, your eyes shut in ecstasy, as Loki palms your chilled breasts.  While his hands knead the gentle flesh, Loki’s mouth scalds you with long licks over your throat, tiny, tasting nips of your neck and savagely sucking on your earlobe.  His breath is ragged in your ear.  

Loki, aroused beyond measure at your willing, responsive body, is growing impatient.  Snow starts to drift in lazy circles around the large tree that is your shared shelter and the smell of fresh frost stills the air around you both.  You could live here, tantalized and teased by Loki, in the silence of the snowy woods until springtime.  But your eager god has other plans.

Snaking a hand between you, Loki pops the button of his pants, freeing himself with a lusty groan.  You muffle a moan by biting your bottom lip, Loki’s searing steel bucking over your quivering core, purposefully pushing against your sensitive nub.  Busying his hands with your abraded backside, shifting you a fraction higher, he positions you for his plunge. Loki sighs your name as he lodges his length inside you at last.

Snow swirls outside your arboretum.  Under the branches of your pine there is solitude and near silence.  Time is spinning slowly in the grey skied afternoon as you start to unravel around Loki’s smooth, deliberate thrusts. 

You open your eyes skyward, deep green needles spreading above you, a few flakes floating between the branches.  One lands on Loki’s naked shoulder, at the dip of his collarbone, so that’s where your lips latch onto him.  Marking him. Yours.

He’s panting now.  Those long, steady strokes stretching you, spreading your hips wider around Loki’s middle as your female form squeezes around your lover.  Like a thin skim of ice on a frozen pond, your body is immobile under Loki’s driving desire, freezing and thawing with each thrust.  

Snapping his hips into you, one hand stroking your full breast, the other dropping down to slide over your straining bud, Loki is determined to have your quiet completion.  You smile, sex drunk, at the idea of his working so hard to get you off.  Because he is doing all the work.

You’re stuck between a God and a hard place.  Your pleasure forced on you with everyone of Loki’s piercing pushes.  Syncing the rhythm of his cock with the circles on your clit, you felt the fragile ice of your orgasm snap, pulling you into the frigid waters of ecstasy.  You lock your mouth to his as you silently scream your release.

Loki’s tongue tussles with yours, licking over your bottom lip, before sucking it between his teeth.  When he spilled inside you, hot and hard, you tasted blood from his bite.  Loki, kissing it away, rested his forehead to yours.

Swallowing hard, Loki smiles at you, satisfied.  Your hair was tangled, twisted into the tree’s trunk, your snow cap was on the ground.  One of your fuzzy socks had slipped off, leaving your right foot bare, in the fiery furnace of your fun time.  Already you could feel the red welts rising on your bum and back.

You smirked at Loki.  His pants puddled at his knees.  Wearing only his boots and a smile you could imagine nothing sexier.  

Gentler now, though still hushed, Loki held you.  From under the boughs of your forest shelter you noticed a fresh pile of snow.  The tranquility of the scene at odds with your racing heart.

Carefully Loki separated from you, earning a shudder due to the cool air on your exposed sex.  After hiking up his own jeans, Loki gathers your clothes together.  Expertly, he began setting you to rights, helping with your socks.  Buttoning your shirt.  Tying your boots.

When you’re bundled up again, snug in your downy jacket, you sigh.  "I love it here.”

Laughing softly, Loki swings into his shirt, “I know.  It’s so calm… so quiet”

Watching him slip back into his jacket, back into his softer self, you reach for his hand.  “This… this is our tree.”

Lifting your knuckles for a glancing kiss, “Yes.  Our own Yggdrasil.”

Looking up at Loki, “I like that.”

With a crunch, you both step into the blinding whiteness of a November snow, ducking under the heavy branches weighted with snow.  “Alright, Loki.  We’re tied, one to one.  And now…”  Loki’s eyebrows lift in anticipation, “Tag! you’re it!"  

You shove him, hard.  Recovering quickly, chasing after you with a barking laugh that rings out in the still of a snowy dusk, "Oh pet… you better run!”

Tags:  @archy3001​ @iamverity​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki​

[gnomebud]

Jet Lag: The Game Season 13.5 — We Played Hide And Seek Across NYC

amy & adam dance party 🕺

[charliegreco]

( ben barnes + cis male ) — have you seen charles greco ? this thirty-eight year old is a personal financer who resides in manhattan. he has been living in nyc for thirty-eight years, and is known to be charming and confident, but can also be conniving and arrogant, if you cross them. people tend to associate them with beaten italian leather boots and smiles that never meet his eyes. @codstarters​

triggers for neglect, drug use, gambling, & personality disorders.

general information.

full name: charles greco. handle: charlie. title: n/a. age: 38. date of birth: november 12, 1983. place of birth: manhattan, new york. zodiac: scorpio. gender: cis male. nationality: italian-american. religion: atheist. orientation: greyromantic heterosexual. relationship status: single.

physical attributes.

face claim: ben barnes. height: 6'1″. weight: 170 lbs. hair color: dark brown. eye color: dark brown. tattoos: none. distinguishing marks: deep brown eyes. outfit/clothing style: beaten boots, expensive jeans, dark shirts, worn leather, fitted suits.

background information.

hometown: manhattan, new york. current residence: manhattan, new york. past residences: manhattan, new york. spoken languages: english, italian, german, russian. financial status: upper class. education level: college graduate. organization: potential illegal ties.

familial information.

mother: alessia greco. father: unknown. siblings: none. children: possibly a few bastard children.

personality.

moral alignment: chaotic neutral. mbti: estp-a - the entrepreneur. enneagram: type 9: the peacemaker. temperament: choleric.

biography.

one thing was incredibly clear to charlie greco from the moment he could comprehend the hand that life had dealt him: nothing would come easy, and nothing would be worth the time if it was.

his mother always had the means of making a decent living for her son and herself, but squandered all of her earnings on selfish means instead. she was certainly a beautiful woman: alluring both physically and with a wit sharp as a blade’s edge, but all of her attention had always been selfish. surely it was habit taught to her from a young age, something she never bothered to break before she involved herself in other human interactions. but it was likely her beauty and charm that had seduced the man who impregnated her, and the likes of his name were never so much as whispered around offspring. charlie has never known the man’s name.

babies should be a joyous occasion, and yet alessia greco found a way to make it entirely self-involved. her body had to bear the pain, her child was what made everyone so pleased, her creation. anyone who dared to involve themselves in the mess of his mother’s life was sure to see how narcissistic the beautiful italy born-and-bred woman was, and yet no one pressed a finger onto the issue.

but such is the way of the world, so often are children abandoned to their fates.

he was a beautiful baby, but grew to be an awkward toddler, an awkward little boy. alessia made no attempt to hide her disgust at how her creation could be so gangly and ungainly, could stow away for hours with quiet toys that suggested knowledge more than play with other children. but perhaps that was for the better — she couldn’t very well brag and show up with something like him, her offerings would be meager in comparison to children who were the spitting images of their beautiful parents. simple genetics, the awkward transitional period of a child, were held against a child who knew nothing of the world or such disgust from his mother. charlie was six, and alessia greco was the love of his life. all mothers should be, for little boys.

but as he grew older, as his awareness developed, and as the blinders fell from his eyes charlie became aware of his mother’s feelings. while he was utterly devoted to her, drew pictures of her at school or told stories about my mom and me, she was ashamed of his too-long legs and chubby cheeks. his loss of innocence came across the dinner table (boxed macaroni and cheese again, so mom could go out again for the night), when he told her “i love you, mommy” and alessia heaved a sigh and responded with a purfunctory, “yea.”

grades meant nothing. educational achievements meant nothing. unconditional love from a child meant nothing, and charlie began to realize that if he wanted something more than boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner every night (if alessia even bothered to make it) he would have to get it himself. however it wasn’t as simple as taking it — simply taking things earned him a swift but stern slap across the face and if he hadn’t learned in his younger years, charlie surely understood alessia’s feelings with those.

he learned his charm from her, but it wasn’t easy being the odd child he was. still, with a desire to achieve, charlie applied himself to the art of manipulation. he discovered it was simple with the charm of a child: people were more likely to assist if you added a few tears, a little naievety. his teachers began to understand his plight as home as difficult when he spun the yarn of his mother having become deathly ill. his peers found him appealing when he shared goods pilfered or traded from others (without their knowledge for the former), and the reputation he earned himself in his youth formed the personality that perfected at puberty.

while all of these tricks worked outside of the household, charlie never managed to pull the wool over his mother’s eyes. but where unconditional love once stood in tolerance for alessia and her narcissism, now contempt remained. charlie fell out of love with his mother at twelve, and never looked back.

on the summer at the end of his freshman year of high school charlie left an odd-looking boy. in the fall of his sophomore year he returned transformed, as if the summer heat had been a chrysalis and the ugly caterpillar emerged a butterfly. now if you held up a picture of alessia greco beside charlie you could see he was her child, all it took was a shot of growth hormone and the deepening of his voice. abyss-black eyes were the stark difference between the two of them (ignoring the thick black hair that sprouted from his face if he didn’t tame it back to stubble every four or so days), and alessia noted how much she despised the way he stared at her now. it made her skin crawl if only because it seemed as if he was looking through her.

and he was. now he saw her for what she was: a selfish woman who had only wanted him to brag about her own achievements. but he hadn’t been worth bragging about when he was small, and now that he towered over her she wanted him to be seen with him. but charlie refused, perhaps a little too politely for her to understand at first, and it was only in a binge of some substance abuse that he took a stern hand with her. only when she struck him first out of a dead sleep — staring at him for near twenty minutes before lashing out at him. it was the threat of never touch me again that he punctuated so perfectly, threatening to hold back no means to defend himself should she raise another hand at him.

alessia mourned for herself the loss of her baby boy. all that was left was a man who was nothing more than a reminder of her failed relationships throughout the years. you’re just like them. you’re just like them.

but he was nothing like them. perhaps the only similarity being how much he despised her, as they all did in the end.

over-achieving won him an early high school graduation by one year and excellent grades a near free-ride through college. he was always good with numbers, always good at calculations and the choice to step into the mathematical field was easy. alessia was notably absent when he gained his college diploma, if only because charlie couldn’t be bothered to let her know of the date. any by now he’d escaped the clutches of her den and made his own home somewhere on the other side of the city. he was sure he would never purposely cross paths with her, and if they did meet it was purely accidental. purely venomous.

his first steps into the world of banking began the same as any other bland story: a teller whose talent for numbers opened gateways of opportunity. charlie was twenty-two when he was offered the position of personal finance. he was twenty-four when he began taking private, rich clients, and it was only a few months into that position that he met “slick ricky” dimatteo. the meeting wound up more fateful than any singular moment he had with his mother, at least it was opportunistic. silver-tongue and charm allowed for charlie to step into the world of second set of books, illegal numbers … extra money.

now he looked exactly like the son of alessia greco. fine suits, hundred-dollar hair cut, winning smile the smiles never met his eyes — that died in his childhood, with his innocence, but he when he wagged his tongue people listened and were apt to believe the words that oozed from his lips. honest life turned to opulence … he was sure he could have had more if he wanted it, but sitting on the outskirts of a life of real crime was comfortable for him. when he stole away in the middle of the night to confirm the collection of illegal debts owed he kept his own two hands clean (so what if his command got people hospitalized, right?) and charlie prided himself on the ability to forget what he had seen. things are so often lost in the black abyss.

potential connections.

clients: charlie works as a personal financer - he cooks two sets of books. this can either be a legitimate client or one that seeks to make bets or otherwise gamble their money in some form through his other connections. 

past flings: 30+ please. charlie is a one and done kind of person. he’s not at all unfamiliar with his needs and has never expressed romantic interest in any of the women he’s slept with.

arm candy: someone who attends high-class events with him. typically someone who understands his humor, and also understands that in the world of money appearances are everything. best suited to someone he’s more friends with than a stranger. (davina yueng).

friends: legitimate or otherwise. if they aren’t connected to his illegal business, they don’t know about it. if they are friends with him through said illegal business, obviously they know. (abby rosen).

i’m open to various other connections, these are just some ideas!

[artsy-hobbitses]

Because my nostalgic ass had been wanting to do this for a SUPER long time, have some Humanized!Mighty Ducks! It’s funny to see how far I’ve kinda come, because I had a strong love for this and most other anthro shows back in the 90s bc they looks excellent but also because I couldn’t draw humans worth a god damn and ended up anthro-ing all the humans, but now I can human the anthros :’B Also because I have no self-control, actual human names and backgrounds below. I might actually have to write this AU at some point. 

WILLIAM ‘WILL’ FLETCHER ie. ‘WILDWING’

30yrs

Canadian (Eh)

Half-brother to Nate Fletcher (Same father, different mothers). Despite this, they have a generally good relationship with each other.

It doesn’t mean they don’t have their issues however; Will believes his father chose Nate as the man stayed with Nate and Nate’s mother, while Nate believes Will is the favorite because they never hear their dad stop comparing their accomplishments as a troubled teen to straightlaced Will.

A decorated ice hockey player in his youth, won several state championships.

Formerly a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did a security stint in Afghanistan from 2009-2014.

Returned to Canada, opened a youth hockey camp to leave behind his old life before the Saurian threat at which point he was called up by his absentee military father to help spearhead a team of saboteurs.

Initially reluctant, however the death of his best friend and former army comrade, Connor Tiberius, during a rescue of captured citizens spurns him to accept on his terms in which he picks the team members.

Responsible, dependable, good-natured, more bookish than his size and stature might suggest, some self-esteem issues and very much a wary but bleeding heart. In his baby brother’s affectionate words, a “Major Dweeb”.

Trilingual; Canadian-French, English (fluent), Pashto (intermediate).

His codename ‘Wildwing’ came from Connor, who affectionately gave it to him as he was the best ‘wingman’ a soldier could ask for on the field and his habit of going from bookish to ballistic when faced with any injustice. His civilian outfit includes a bomber jacket with wings decorated over the back to commemorate his best friend.

Literally the only member of the team to actually be associated with ice hockey. The others picked it up gradually as a way to bond with each other and discuss battle tactics.

NATHAN ‘NATE’ FLETCHER ie. ‘NOSEDIVE’

20yrs

American

Half-brother to Will Fletcher, unofficially the ‘team baby’ which is something he tries hard to break out of.

Seen as a delinquent in his youth and battling with ADHD, his father strongarmed him to enlist with the Air Force when he was 17 to try and ‘shape him up’ and while he absolutely bucked under the chains of command, he proved to be a natural at flying which both amazed and frustrated his officers when he would ace their flying exams but often break out to fly the planes when he wasn’t suppose to.

Due to perceived attitude problems, he was dismissed much to the anger of his father, but was quickly roped into the same role by Will who saw his potential in combating Dragaunus’ forces.

Hotheaded, impulsive and immature but also loyal, gregarious and friendly to a fault.

Will not stand for anyone badmouthing Will. That’s his brother and only he’s allowed to joke about them.

Codename ‘Nosedive’ was chosen because of the stunts he used to pull in the plane and also as a take-that moment to his father who would often complain about how everything good they tried to do for ‘this kid’ would ‘nosedive into shit’.

Oscillates between loving Will as the only family member to have really given a damn about him and see any potential in him at all and resenting Will for in his eyes, being everything he felt he couldn’t be.

Often in charge of flying the team jet.

Bilingual; English (fluent), Canadian-French (beginner. For Will, he’s trying).

MALLORY MACKENZIE

27yrs

Irish-American

A former cop who idolized her Sergeant mother who was killed helping to defend NYC from Dragaunus’ marauding forces.

She knows Will as a good friend through Connor Tiberius who was an old boyfriend prior to his death.

Has been tracking Duke’s movements for some time prior to the invasion, dead-set on bringing the jewel thief to justice. Not particularly enthused about his way of life, but does care for him in her own way as it was during their little chases that she would have conversations she couldn’t have had otherwise with someone she believed would have no role to play in her life outside of prison time.

When he consoled her after the death of her mother and she had to tend to him after he was gravely injured during a rescue, a strained friendship grew as they defended NYC together for a while with her banding together the remaining cops of the Central Park precinct and him putting together a coalition of small-time criminals who turned their tricks to beat off the alien invasion until Will called her up as a member of his new saboteur team.

In a spur of the moment, she asked Duke to come with her, vouching for his set of skills to Will and despite their back-and-forth snarking (mostly snarking from her, mostly teasing from him), they work with each other the best out of the team.

Her hatred for Draganus is strongest out of all the team and of all of them, she’s the most adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Has no use for code names—-the people she loves are dead or on the same team as her so she sees no point to it.

Pugnacious, Black-And-white view of the world and judgmental but also confident, decisive and fiercely determined. If she has her mind set something, she’s Terminator levels of terrifying to see it through.

Speaks only English but understands Arabic and French to an intermediate degree even if she can’t trust her tongue to speak it, if only to understand what Duke is saying at times (as he unwittingly tends to jump between his three ‘fluent’ languages in conversation).

DULQUER LATEEF ie. ‘DUKE L’ORANGE’

35yrs

French-Algerian

A renown jewel thief (simply known as the ‘Duke’) with a knack for stealing blood diamonds from diamond barons to channel their proceeds back to the communities they were pilfered from. Actually thinks the diamond industry is a huge joke, but it’s a joke some morons pay insanely dangerous amounts of money for. Prefers other jewels on a personal basis (fond of rubies and amethysts)

Ran his own gang back in France called the Brotherhood of the Blade, got caught up in the invasion when he decided to work his heists in New York.

His codename came from the inability of people to properly pronounce his name in his youth and so ‘Dulq’ became ‘Duke’ in due time. ‘L’Orange’ was what happened when having to come up with a surname on the spot during a heist in the States, he blurted out the first vaguely-French word he could remember which was ‘L’Orange’ ie. ‘duck a l’orange’ which was what a former target of his ordered and when his gang brethren found out, it amused them so much they talked him into keeping it as a full part of his nom de plume. He keeps it, because it helps his remaining family stay safe that no one knows his real name and he prefers it that way.

He and Mallory had something he likes to describe as a ‘dance’, with her continuously tracking him down and him escaping her clutches at the last moment. He’s absolutely tickled that they’re now on the same team.

Cares for the team the deepest due to having run his own back home and missing the brotherhood and his own family, always aware of everyone’s emotional and physical condition to the point he disregards his own at times.

Seriously, hurt his new family and you die.

The most streetwise of the team and adept with any form of blade-play and stealth/subterfuge.

Lost his eye and gained the scar on his face fending off ‘Wraith’ for as long as he could from a geologist with knowledge of Beryllium crystals.

The cybernetic eye he hides behind his eyepatch was given to him by Mallory who came across it while evacuating scientists (Including Tanya) from a lab under siege. She obtained it as willing ‘payment’ from them and had them help install it on Duke, claiming that he was only as much use to the rebellion as the clarity of his depth of field. (In truth, was well aware of how shaken he was from the loss of his eye). Cybernetic eye has x-ray and heat-seeking capabilities.

Fond of Mallory (who he may or may not be harboring feelings for but is also aware that he’s greying, a criminal and damaged, like who’s he kidding), Tanya (something of a younger sister to him especially since she’s the scientist who helped install his new eye) and Will (who he treats like a little brother he gotta teach the workings of the streets to).

Egoistical, questionable morals and unconcerned with ‘the big picture’ of global invasion but also surprisingly compassionate, open-minded and does his best to see the good in everyone (He’s a thief eh?)

Something of an omniglot due to his background and the different people he ends up having to work with; Fluent in French, English and Arabic, intermediate in Mandarin, Spanish and Italian, beginner in Japanese and Russian.

TANYA VANDERBILT

30yrs

German

A scientist working mostly with cyberkinetics who also made use of Beryllium crystals (the same the Saurians are coveting) in her technology and upon the invasion, her entire lab and research became a target.

She was rescued by Mallory and has since then tagged along with the fiery redhead who sees her as a sister, augmenting her gear and weapons where needed and even providing Duke with his energy sword.

Absolutely not a combatant, has no field experience and is most often found back at the base playing her role as Command central or guarding the ship while the group go on their recon missions.

Sees herself as deadweight sometimes though her comrades will always attest that they’d probably be dead out there if not for her tech and in-depth knowledge.

Meek, easily terrified and a bit of a pushover, but also innovative, multi-talented in diverse sections of science and always eager to help.

Speaks English and German, understands intermediate Japanese due to most of her lab co-workers.

CASSIUS ‘CASH’ HARDING ie. ‘GRIN’

40yrs

African-American

Originally a pro-wrestler working the circuits, he was caught up in the Saurian invasion and captured as a test subject in order for the invaders to figure out the biological weaknesses and breaking point of humans at their prime.

Was the subject of multiple experiments, but strove to keep up the spirits of his fellow prisoners by way of story, meditation and keeping a genial facade.

Was among the prisoners Conrad attempted to free before they died, led the prisoner rebellion and immediately joined up as a member of Will’s team upon finding out that he was Conrad’s best friend—-paying off his dues, as it were.

Unfortunately for the Saurians, their experiments had been in the midst of testing out how much augmented strength a human body could take before breaking, which left him with well, augmented strength to go with an extremely high pain threshold from both his old job and his ordeal. That said, the strength comes with a caveat that prolonged use of it could lead to organ failure due to the strain he has to put on them and thus he’s only able to work with it for short bursts of five to ten minutes depending on the task.

Despite his size, is generally the pacifist of the group more concerned with keeping people safe than facing down Dragaunus’ hordes—he leaves that to the actual soldiers. If you pissed him off in some way, you have fucked up super bad.

Bonds with Will and Nate quickly, rather like a stable older brother or uncle figure who realizes these two worlds-apart siblings have issues and are way over their head with these new responsibilities and tries his best to keep them grounded.

Hesitant, tendency to shy away from confrontation and almost on an emotional lockdown but also amicable, stoic and uncannily perceptive.

Speaks mostly English with a strong smattering/understanding of Jamaican Creole.

The codename ‘Grin’ came from his tendency to ‘grin and bear it’ when it came to punishment or altercations.

[lawandorderforevercsi]

Their Feelings Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Forever, the show belongs to Matt Miller and ABC.

It had been a year since they had gotten together. Henry couldn't be happier, and he knew Jo would feel the same. He was ready to take their commitment to the next level, ask her to marry him. When he had their plane tickets and their hotel reservations

Since it was a slow day in NYC and all they had was paperwork, he thought he would seize it. Once he finished the last paperwork, he decided to head to the precinct.

But first, he had one thing to do, seek the blessings. As he was raised to be a gentleman, he had a few people he needed to talk to. They were the lieutenant, Hanson, and Jo's mom and sister. The first stop was Hanson. He saw Jo wasn't there, so she would either be in the evidence room or getting a bite to eat. Henry walked to Detective Hanson's desk. Gently tapping on it and said, "Detective, can I have a word with you in on the interrogation rooms?"

Hanson looked up, "Yeah, sure."

Once in the room, Hanson asked, "What's up to Doc?"

Henry said, "Well, since Jo hasn't spoken to her incarcerated father or estranged brother, you are like a brother to her, protecting her when I can't. I want to ask for your blessing to ask Jo to marry me."

Pulling Henry in and giving him a brotherly hug, Hanson said, "Well, it is about time Doc. I knew you two were meant to be together, especially after Jo didn't want to go with Isaac to Paris. While it did take a little longer than usual, I can see how happy she is. So yes, you have my blessing."

They were about to exit when Hanson saw Jo. Concluding, nonverbally, Hanson said, "I will go take Jo out a long lunch while you take care of business."

Henry nodded, grateful for Mike's friendship. Henry waited until the coast is clear and headed to the lieutenant's office. Knocking on the door, he only entered when he was allowed to. After he handed her the reports, he talked to her and told her what he was about to do. Reece said, "This is great, Dr. Morgan, it is about time. I will make sure both you Detective Martinez have the ten days off."

Henry added, "I would also like to ask for your blessing and…"

Reece asked, "Why do you need my blessing?"

Henry added, "Well, you have been a mentor to her and an extent to me as well."

Reece responded in a voice half stern and half-joking voice, "Go and get ready whisk Detective Martinez off before I change my mind."

Henry thanked her and took off. While Hanson wasn't in, he quickly left the precinct to meet with the last two people. Antonia Martinez and Gabriela Martinez-Torres

Once they were seated, they talked and caught up before Antonia asked, "Henry, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?"

Henry cleared his throat and began, "My parents raised me to be a gentleman. I am here to ask for your permission and blessing for me to ask Jo for her hand in marriage and…"

Antonia was speechless. The young man in front of her was indeed a gentleman, a rare gem these days. She went over to where Henry was sitting and give him a motherly hug. Gabriela beamed. She was happy her baby sister. She and her mother had been worried about Jo's well being after Sean's untimely death a few years earlier. She answered for herself and her mother, "Henry, of course, you have mine and mom's blessing. Bienvenidos a la familia Enqriue (Welcome to the family, Henry)."

He chatted with his soon to be in-laws for a little while longer and before heading out to get the last item he needed. When he made it back and saw Jo was still was not back. Setting the flowers down, he went to hide out of sight. Soon Jo and Hanson came back from their lunch, and she saw a tulip, rose, and carnation arrangement; she wondered who it could be from. She went over and searched and found the card. It said,

"Will you get lost with me?"-Henry

Jo whirled around and saw Henry stand behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Henry said, "I take that as a yes?"

Jo said, "Of course it's a yes, you dummy. When are we leaving?"

Henry replied, "How about now?"

Jo asked, "Now? But what about…?"

Before she could say anything else, she heard Reece exclaim, "No buts Detective Martinez. You are to hand your paperwork over to Detective Hanson, and allow your boyfriend to whisk you away to your dream trip to Paris. That's an order."

Jo nodded. She knew when the lieutenant meant business she meant business.

Following a bite to eat and nearly a nearly eleven-hour flight, they were in the city of love, Paris. Since they slept well on the trip, they checked in to their hotel room and were now wandering the town and getting lost. Over the next several days, they explored Paris. They visited tourist sites such as the Louvre Museum Palace of Versailles and the places that aren't visited as much by tourists, such as the Passage Jouffrey.

Of course, there was one day when they stayed in and reaffirmed their love for each other.

However, for Jo, her life was about to change. The night before they were due to go back to New York, they had an early dinner and was walking the streets of aimlessly. Before long, they were in Trocadéro and were short proximity from the Eiffel Tower. Henry knew now was the perfect timing. Leading her to ln quick kiss, he began, "Jo, I knew that I had met my match after you had walked in and introduced yourself. As time went, I fell in love with you. You have made me the absolute happiest man alive."

Henry paused briefly, and after getting the ring box out got down on one knee, causing Jo to let out an audible gasp. The man she loved was about to make the most romantic gesture ever. Not only did he take her to Paris to get lost with him, but now the dream she had two years earlier was about to come true.

When she saw Henry on one knee, her hands flew to her mouth. Yes, it was her wish to be with Henry and get lost with him in Paris. Now that she saw him propose to her in front of the Eiffel Tower was the icing on the cake. She looked at the ring; it was an antique vibe with moissanite in the center surrounded by other diamonds set in a yellow gold ring setting.

Looking deep into her eyes, Henry asked, "Jo Martinez, will you marry me?"

With tears in her eyes, Jo replied with a loud, "Yes, Henry Morgan, a million times, yes, I will marry you!"

When he heard Jo's answer a grin on his spread across his face, he took out the ring and slid it on to her finger. Jo pulled him up into a kiss so steamy it eclipsed all other kisses. Once they parted for air, she threw her arms around him, and he did the same and wound his arms around her waist with his hands securely on the small of her back he picked her up and spun her around, causing her to squeal with joy.

They knew that their lives were only going to get better.

A/N: Thanks for reading the second chapter of "Their Feelings".

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Misty Forester

Name:

Misty Selene Forester (Rodriguez)

Born:

April 10th, 1873 (Aries)

Age: 24 in RDO events, 25 in the main game, 33 in the epilogue

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Notable Characteristics:

Long brown hair

Bright green eyes

Plump red lips

Black, red, and white color scheme

Fashionable, will always make sure she looks good even if she’s wearing a potato sack

Sassy af

Vocally talented

Other Info:

Half Puerto Rican, 1/4 English and 1/4 French.

Bisexual, known to openly flirt with both men and women

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Persuasive speaker

Skilled actor

Weapons:

Duel wielding custom Mauser pistols

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Hunting Knife

Family:

Arella Forester (Mother)

Luis Rodriguez (Father, unknown whereabouts)

Marie Forester (twin sister, deceased)

Background:

Misty is the child of immigrant parents. Her mother, Arella, is from England and is the daughter of a successful French businessman and an English woman whose own family came from their own wealth. Arella was set to be married to a man who too came from a rich family. Arella was unhappy with this, stole some money from her parents and managed to escape to America for better opportunities. Despite her parents search, she managed to avoid them. She settled down in New York City. There she met Luis, a man who escaped his own home, once living in extreme poverty in Puerto Rico. They bonded and quickly formed a relationship, and Arella soon found herself pregnant.

Before Misty and Marie were born, Luis received word that his mother back in Puerto Rico had fallen ill. He didn’t want to leave his love and their soon to be children, but he had no choice. He managed to get back to PR and would often send letters. Arella kept him up to to date with everything, eagerly waiting his return. However after the twins were born, the letters stopped coming.

A couple of years passed and Arella gave up hope that Luis would return, wondering if he perished or just stopped caring. Either way, she had her daughters to take care of and did her best to raise them. The funds she once nicked from her parents’ fortune allowed her to provide her and her daughters a comfortable living situation.

All the money in the world however did not prevent Marie from getting sick. She became infected with Cholera at the age of five and despite the aggressive medical care, she ended up passing away.

Both Misty and Arella were heartbroken. They stayed in NYC for another six years, and decided to move south, relocating to another city known as Saint Denis. Arella, having grown up around French culture, felt right at home. Misty missed NYC, but soon fell in love with the grandeur of Saint Denis and often wandered around, marveling the well-dressed citizens and enjoying the entertainment. She soon realized she wanted to become a singer, seeking out a vocal trainer whom she learned from for a few years. She also hung around the theaters, speaking with performers and learning tips and techniques on not only singing, but acting as well.

Little did she know that it would come in handy one day. At the age of 16, her grandparents ended up in Saint Denis for a vacation when they ran into Arella by accident. The reunion was explosive, and a lot of shouts and curses were exchanged before everything calmed down. Misty did not know that her mother ran away years ago, and she never heard much about her grandparents except for that they lived in the UK. Despite the tension held, her grandparents absolutely loved her and wanted to keep in touch. Sometime after, she was kidnapped by a gang of outlaws. Somehow word had gotten out she was the granddaughter of a wealthy family, and their intention was to hold her for ransom.

She was with them for three weeks, having to endure their vulgarity. They gave her the bare minimum, feeding her bread rolls and making her sleep on the ground, knowing she would do no good if she got sick or injured. Despite how afraid she was, Misty managed to form a plan, carefully learning their mannerisms and how they interacted with others. She managed to escape without inflicting violence, using her charm and learned acting skills to weasel her way out. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where she was.

No longer was she in the state of Lemoyne, instead finding out she was in a completely different state called West Elizabeth. With nothing but the clothes on her back and no money in her pockets, she had no idea how to get home, and she was certain those outlaws would catch up to her sooner or later. She managed to keep herself discreet for a couple of days, laying low and charming shopkeepers into giving her a couple of cans of food. All the while, she was desperately trying to find a ride back to Saint Denis that didn’t cost her money, or being subjected to disgusting favors from men twice her age.

One night she’d found shelter in a barn, sleeping peacefully when the sounds of voices aroused her. She realized immediately it was the gang of outlaws that kidnapped her in the first place, and she had no way to defend herself. Despite her trying to keep quiet, they eventually found her hiding spot. With no way out she was ready to accept her fate, until she heard gunshots and the heavy thudding of bodies. More gunfire sounded and she opened her eyes to see them facing outside the barn as a flurry of bullets both entered and exited the barn. She hid behind a crate, listening to the carnage until the gunfire stopped. Seeing the gang were all dead, she warily left her hiding spot and met the man who saved her, a fellow named Hosea Matthews. She recognized him immediately, having seen his wanted poster plastered all over Saint Denis for years. She thought he had the same intention of holding her ransom, but instead surprised her in saying he was here to help, after hearing talk about the rival gang searching for a young girl.

And so for the next few days, Hosea taught Misty how to defend herself. He gave her a revolver, teaching her how to shoot and basic tracking/hunting skills. He even offered to bring her back to his personal gang.

Main Game AU:

Misty considered Hosea’s offer. How she wanted to return home, but had a fear that upon returning, the same events would transpire and may end up with her, her mother, or others she cared about getting injured or killed in the crossfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring home dangerous, greedy men, and decided to leave with Hosea.

Thus then started her journey as part of “Dutch’s Boys”, a scared young girl soon taught to be a useful gang member. Dutch and Hosea discovered her acting skills and put her to work for heists and robbery.

More to come soon...

RDO Events AU:

Upon declining Hosea’s offer, he gave her money to take a train back to Saint Denis and wished her luck, and let her know that he’d help her again if she ever needed it. She thanked him and got on the next train back home, glad to finally have a way back but she’ll never forget Hosea.

She returned to an emotional reunion, by not only her mother but her grandparents as well, who refused to return home until she was found. They immediately offered to take her and Arella back to England with them, where they guaranteed her safety. Arella declined for the both of them, while it was tempting, she did not want to subject Misty to the life that she hated.

Life returned back to normal for Misty, and putting the experience behind her, she tried pursuing a life in show business as she intended. Despite having a beautiful voice, she just couldn’t break past performing on the streets. She was constantly in other more successful performers’ shadows.

When she moved out on her own, she found it much harder to live on the meager money she was making. She then remembered her experience while being held hostage. The outlaws spoke about their tales and triumphs with stealing riches. She soon began to succumb to her curiosity, finding herself hanging out with the less desirable folk in Saint Denis.

She soon made herself a posse of her own called the Midnight Regulators, making their way across five states like a storm in robberies and ambushes. Misty often takes the role of damsel in distress to lure rich folk into trying to help her, and then robs them blind. She will also help those who are in greater need than her, sometimes becoming a “Robin Hood” and giving part of her loot to poor families.

Unfortunately, one of her gang members became too greedy and tried to overthrow her by attempting to kill her. The fight ended with Misty putting a bullet in their skull. The gang disbanded after that and she was alone, pulled to perform for funds.

Extra:

Legally her name is Misty Rodriguez. However, her mother introduced them using her own maiden name for her daughters to avoid discrimination.

Misty is actually afraid of horses, except her own, after being kicked in the chest as a child. It took her a long time to get comfortable around them.

She secretly hopes to meet her father one day.

She is considered morally gray.

Despite how her life has changed, she still wants to be on stage one day.

She has a soft spot for children and while it doesn’t seem likely, she hopes to settle down and have her own family.

Horses:

Cressida, an amber champagne Missouri Fox Trotter mare:

Misty’s main mount and her absolute favorite horse. Both fast and resilient, Misty was drawn in by this mare’s prowess and beauty.

Cornelia, a marble sabino Criollo mare:

Misty’s first horse. Cornelia can easily match Cressida in speed and stamina, but she’s very clumsy. Misty doesn’t ride her as often in fear of accidentally injuring her.

Orion, a sorrel overo Criollo stallion:

Misty came across this beautiful stallion tied up at a gang hideout, and took him once she’d done away with them.

Andromeda, a bay frame overo Criollo mare:

Misty’s newest horse. A prized mare she found at Braithwaite Manor when she snuck over to originally steal horses. She made out with the ones needed plus Andromeda for her own collection.

Blanche, a white Kladruber mare:

Not the fastest mount, but gorgeous and sturdy. Blanche, meaning “white” in French, was given to Misty by a man in thanks for saving his daughter.