#october has been busy for me though so I saw that coming from a mile away

[ratstuckinamarble]

I was hanging up a Halloween garland to get a little more into the spirit of things, when I lost hold of the damn thing and it flung itself against my shelf.

The one with a vase on it. Which immediately got dragged down to the floor.

I could already hear the crash of glass... except it never came. There I am on my stepstool, looking at my scattered dried flowers, absolutely confused as to where the hell that vase went. I thought it had disappeared. Somehow. I was properly befuddled.

...It had fallen into one of my backpacks, which basically swallowed the whole thing up without looking like anything had happened. Thanks for making me think I was losing it dude. At least I didn't have to clean up any glass (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

[uncannylaw]

The way I just paused when I saw your (semi) new Hobie fic...No shame to the anon but I was stunned for a second.

Sorry I didn't reply last time we were talking, I got busy and somehow the convo was then just shoved into the back of my head.

AND HELLOOO THE NEW HORROR FRIGHTS?? patiently waiting on a part 2(I'm not patient).

Made a pair of spiderverse/prowlerverse characters to post on this account, so I guess that's coming soon. Im thinking of making a series based off of them, but I’m still not sure about it. I’ve started writing the prologue, I’m only 388 words in but it’s most likely gonna be pretty long. One of my ideas for this series is to challenge myself by drawing one of the scenes from it and putting the image at the end. How've you been?

I was at a pretty neat art festival the other day, but besides that, still nothing much going on for me. I’m planning on going to AWA next weekend with my siblings though, and my dad might be cosplaying Afro samurai 😭🙌🏽!

To be honest I was surprised too, I’ve never actually written food play before so I hope they liked it. Also no harm done with not replying. Life gets busy I get it and I completely understand so no harm no foul.

I honestly haven’t started part 2 yet (I know I know😞) but I’ll try to start it tomorrow. Horror frights was only supposed to last until the end of October but bc I’ve been slacking I think I’m just gonna keep it going until I get tired of it.

Oooooo you should definitely write a series. Make it a little writing challenge for yourself, set some goals and reward yourself whenever you meet said goals. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve drawn something, I might do a little sketching tonight.

I’ve been good!! The only exciting thing I bring to the table is that I went to the state fair. It was pretty fun, rode a lot of rides, ate a lot of junk food, ya know the usual. Other than that brief state of bliss work has been draining as always😒.

That sounds like so much fun! I missed the Comic-Con that was being held in my state like a month back and it crushed me. I wanted to get my little miles funko pop signed by the voice actor😭. But tell your dad to dress up, peer pressure him with your siblings if you have to😂.

[stealingpotatoes]

Trying to Explain the Desmond (sorta) Lives AU: Part 2

(part one)

(hi I’m back and I was bothered to write more explanation. bla bla sorry for the mess also this bit was acccidentally lengthy and 2.5k words, whoops)

> > > >

Shaun and Rebecca more-or-less knew they were going to find Desmond. They more-or-less knew they were going to see him. They more-or-less knew that he was going to be all glowing like he was in the footage. This being said, they weren’t really prepared for um… any of that to actually happen. 

Desmond is standing here, he is talking. He is moving.  Alive. Shaun and Becs are across from him, silent and dumbfounded at the sight of their long-dead friend. 

(I need you, my darling reader, to think of the most confused and shocked you’ve ever been in your life, and then bap, you’ve more or less got what’s going on in this room tbh.)

“Desmond?” Shaun finally asks in shock. 

“...yeah?” Desmond answers, obviously very confused at Shaun’s tone. 

“Holy shit,” whispers Rebecca. 

“What happened? We were in the Temple and- and then suddenly I’m here and I’ve got… these?” He gestures vaguely to himself-- the Isu markings.

What he said is enough to sort-of snap the duo out of their shock enough. “What?”

“Yeah, what?” Des agrees.  

“No, no. The temple-- 2012… that was six years ago. And you...” Rebecca says (still looking at Des with an expression that can only be described as ‘what in the genuine fuck’). 

Shaun and Rebecca wouldn’t have even noticed Galina coming up behind them if it hadn’t been for Desmond’s slight shift into near ready-to-fight, tho he relaxes after a second (his eagle vision’s still there and says she’s an ally). 

Shaun and Becs manage to take their eyes off Desmond for long enough to glance back at Galina, who’s come to find them. 

“You were not replying on your comms--” Galina stops and takes a proper look at the man behind them. “Oh. He does not look dead.” Then back at Shaun & Becs; “We all need to go.”  

Desmond is somehow even more confused than he was earlier. “Why would I look dead? And-- who are you?” 

Shaun has manners, even in very confusing situations; “This is Galina. She’s an Assassin. And Galina, meet… Desmond Miles.” (audible question marks) 

Shaun and Rebecca share an awkward glance. “We’ll explain everything when we get to safety?” Becs says, though she’s really not sure how they are going to explain, or what they’re even going to explain.  

The two random assassins who don’t have names also came out of the fight fairly unhurt and meet up with the rest of them. They’re pretty weirded out to see a person with glowy lines on his face, and have heard of Desmond Miles’ death. However they’re obviously not as weirded out to see him alive because they just didn’t know him. They’re probably doing the best here lol. 

Galina’s pretty confused but she’s become very good at compartmentalising over the years, so isn’t dwelling on things right now. 

Shaun and Rebecca are-- okay, to say Shaun and Becs are “dealing” with this is definitely the wrong word. They’re moving forward like Assassins should, while trying to comprehend that Desmond is right there… and also trying not to look at him too wide-eyed and shocked.  To them, everything feels like it’s going way too fast and way too slow all at once.

The trio and Galina all get into a van and head out of there, not planning on waiting for more Abstergos. 

//

They reach an old Assassin safehouse outside of the city after a very Odd drive. The two unnamed Assassins stayed in the city to keep investigating and keep up their work before, so now it’s just Shaun, Becs & Desmond in the safehouse with Galina on watch outside. 

They get in, make sure they’re safe -- protocol stuff. But Des really needs some answers. Like right now.

“What happened?” Desmond asks. This time it’s very serious, and you can almost feel the hundreds of years of killers’ lives he’s lived behind his voice. 

Shaun and Becs share yet another look. The disbelief hasn’t worn off at all, but they’re, as I said, moving forward. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Shaun asks. 

It quickly comes to light that Desmond has no memory of what happened after touching the Eye-orb-thing in the Temple. It’s just “a helluva lot of pain” in December 2012 and then boom, waking up in the middle of a city (shut, i know i still haven’t thought where), in October 2018. He also can’t recall bursting out of that Abstergo facility either -- his memory seems to start from where the weird glowing-eyes-and-apple-light thing he had going on stopped. 

“But the Temple was six years ago?” Desmond quietly half-asks, half-states. 

“Yeah...” says Rebecca. 

“Then where have I been for that time.” 

“You died.”

“What?!”

Shaun takes over; “Or at least, we thought you died. In 2012, we got clear from the Temple as you told us to. But then Abstergo, they--” (how on earth do you say this) “They got there before we could. They took your body and...” 

“But obviously you didn’t die because you’re here.” Becs gestures at Des. 

“Right,” Shaun agrees unsurely.

Des nods slowly, trying to take this all in. “But that doesn’t explain… all this.” he gestures to the Isu markings on his face. “Or what I can do.” 

“Do you know what you can do?” Becs asks. She and Shaun don’t really know what was happening w Des’ whole abilities thing at ALL because they only saw a small bit recorded.

Des shrugs, but then unzips the definitely-stolen-hoodie a bit and pulls the opening to the side so his bare collarbone is on show. “I got shot when I… when I woke up.” Rebecca makes yet another confused expression. “There’s nothing there?” She’s right; there’s no wound, no blood there. Not even a scar.

“Exactly.” 

“Oh.” 

“I heal faster, I know that. And--”

“What’s that?” Shaun numbly gestures to his own chest where a scar starts on Desmond’s. It’s not like either of them have seen Des shirtless much at all before, but that wasn’t there in 2012, they’re pretty sure. 

Des looks down then unzips the hoodie a bit more and oh. 

Shaun and Becs didn’t notice that on the security footage. Tbh Desmond barely noticed it, too busy looking at the glowiness. But that’s an autopsy scar. Des has an autopsy scar. That’s...

Desmond zips his hoodie back up, but everyone in the room is Very Confused. 

This is even more question-mark-inducing and raises about a billion questions; Did they do an autopsy on an alive person (for the sake of taunting the assassins)? Shaun and Becs wouldn’t put it past Abstergo; the Templars are messed up like that. 

Or… did Desmond genuinely die? And did Abstergo… bring him back somehow? 

Either way, Shaun’s mentally decided the “weird Isu clone of Desmond” idea is probably wrong because why would they autopsy a clone of a dead man?? makes no sense.  

There’s more long pauses of bewilderment before Rebecca makes the very good suggestion that they all have something to eat. So yeah, they eat, they’re chatting. It’s mostly basic stuff. They should definitely have all had medical checkups first, but they’re all very much too confused and in shock to do like… anything. 

It’s a bit awkward at one point (more awkward than the ENTIRE ordeal of seeing your dead friend again has been) because Shaun catches himself before telling Des a part of a story that involves secret Assassin crap and stops awkwardly. 

Desmond seems to catch on, and he’s like “I get it. Abstergo might have done something to me.” Made him a mole or a sleeper agent like Daniel Cross. 

Shaun and Becs feel really bad, but Desmond’s got this weird air of resignation about him. He understands. He knows he might be all messed up and controlled by Abstergo. That being said, the general resignation might just be pure shock at everything. A Lot Has Happened to him in a Very Short Span of Time (to him). 

They continue on chatting, mostly inane shit. Desmond asks if his parents are… still around. Shaun and Becs assure them they’re fine, though still fighting. Say a little about how William took Des’ death really hard, (no duh), and dropped out of the fight for a year. Only came back after finding out what Abstergo did to Des’ corpse (or… alive body???) -- tho the duo try to avoid saying what Abstergo did for now. 

However there’s another pause when Rebecca is, in very vague terms, explaining what happened in London in 2015. Rebecca starts telling Des what the Shroud is when she pauses and looks like she’s just solved some complicated code.

“I thought you were skipping the secret details?” Des asks.

“This isn’t that-- the Shroud heals people. Like, really fast,” Rebecca says.

Shaun gets where she’s going. “Ah... so say if someone got shot, it would heal almost immediately. And there would be no scar or visible wound afterwards.” 

Desmond takes a moment, and then he’s like “...you think I have the Shroud’s powers?” 

Now this doesn’t really solve any questions, and if anything creates more… but it adds something? Heck, this is all so confusing for everyone involved.

Anyways at some point they decide to actually all go to sleep. Galina’s still here btw, she also goes to sleep lol. Though before they do go to their own beds, Shaun and Becs have a quick chat about how weird this all is. Very Weird. 

Uh yeah so shrugging noises, Galina at some point the next day is assured the trio will be fine on their own and heads back to the city to investigate with unnamed Assassins. 

At some point they do actually do medical checkups lol, and comes up as, overall, Good. Desmond is pretty spritely for a dead guy. 

However they run into an issue: the DNA thingie just Isn’t Cooperating. It won’t sequence it. Probably definitely because they don’t have any tech that can get his wacked-up now-a-lot-more-isu DNA. But it also means they can’t check to see if he’s got the same DNA as he did. So yeah. 

For Rebecca and Shaun, it’s weird how quickly everything starts to feel like old times. As if they might be back in Monteriggioni, or the Temple, hiding out from the Abstergo and the Templars, as if the six year gap never happened. I mean- it’s not quite the same, obviously. Desmond glows now, and there’s always Something to remind them that they thought he was dead, that he was gone -- that something might be Wrong with him. 

Desmond’s, on the other hand, in this very awkward place. Aside from the fact he now has superpowers (which he doesn’t yet know the extent of), he’s also dealing with the fact he was supposedly dead for 6 years. That the world moved on without him and his friends haven’t seen him for six years. 2012 feels like days ago to him, not years. Shaun and Becs are very happy to have him back -- but Desmond didn’t know he was ever gone . So where they’re nostalgic for old times, he can’t help but only notice the differences? 

They need to find out what the heck happened in the 6 years they thought Des was dead. Seeing as the Abstergo facility that Desmond escaped from is -- funnily enough -- crawling with Abstergo agents that would very much like to get the three of them, (and that the trio has been told to lay low and try to go as dark as they can for now, while they all try to figure out what’s happening w Desmond) going back there to find crap out isn’t an option right now. So what Rebecca and Shaun are doing -- with a bit of help from Desmond, though he isn’t a tech guy or necessarily allowed to go into the Assassin database stuff yet -- is trying to scrounge up anything they can on Des and the missing six years.

They’re also slightly trying to work out some of Des’ powers, but they’re wary of him using them too much as Abstergo might pick up on whatever power traces he’s giving off. Shaun thinks Desmond definitely has a second PoE-based ability, and thinks it may be the Apple. 

One of the first nights, Desmond asks Shaun and Rebecca what they are going to do if Des turns out to be a sleeper or something. They can’t actually come up with an answer. 

Tbh, the search for info isn’t going brilliantly, even with two of the Assassin’s best searchers on the case. There are other assassins and PLENTY of Initiates looking for info across the world too -- Desmond just… coming back is a very big thing, and moreso is how he came back (ie all Isu-y). They haven’t heard any word from their mentor, Mr Miles senior, though. 

But then Rebecca has an idea! If Desmond’s conscious memory doesn’t know what happened, maybe his genetic memory does? Small issue: they don’t have an animus with them. So they ask for one ig lol. 

Anyways, they’re all chilling, researching, and trying to get to grips with the INSANE idea of EVERYTHING, ya know? Friendship hours. Catching up -- tho Des doesn’t have much to tell. There’s also emotional times!!! Shaun and Becs getting to say what they never had the chance to say while Des was alive, hugs, talking a little bit about the fact that his death (or “death”, perhaps) hit them Hard (though it’s difficult to talk about for all three). 

The first piece of the puzzle that they get isn’t from somewhere they expect. 

About a week after Desmond showed up (so after about 4-5 days of them being at the safehouse), Layla Hassan gets out of Atlantis. She’s just done the Trials via Kassandra and got the staff of Hermes Trismegistus (...in doing so, losing one teammate and gaining some anger issues. oops). Layla’s not that important yet. What is important right now is when she opened Atlantis.

Layla doesn’t have an exact time as to her opening the gates, but guess what happened very soon after the rough time she opened it? One Desmond Miles burst out of an Abstergo facility, glowing like your overly-dramatic neighbour’s Christmas lights display. 

So then this all just adds more mystery to the uh... Mystery™. Did opening Atlantis resurrect him? Did it give him these powers for some reason? If so, why?? The gang also find out/ the Assassins overall realise that opening Atlantis caused some weird powersurge in every PoE -- but if that caused some kind of surge in Desmond too, does that mean he’s a Piece of Eden now? He has the powers of at least one, PoE now, they know, so…? There are too many questions and nowhere near enough answers. 

The trio is itching to get out there and start investigating themselves -- but they’re told that there’s another assassin coming to join the three of them soon (it’s protocol to not say Who), before they start doing anything, and that they should wait for them. Also said Assassin is bringing one of them mini-animuses (animi? whatever; the one Layla has in ACOd) so they can do the genetic memory thing like Becs suggested. 

So I guess it’s time for more waiting, for whomever the assassin may be...

[dal3ks]

coming home

pairing: peter parker x female reader 

word count: 2.7k

warnings: sexual remarks, smut, cursing, allusions to sex, marking 

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin​, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic! 

“so when does your flight leave columbus?” peter asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

“tomorrow at nine a.m.,” you answered, “i can’t wait to see you.”

he beamed, “me either, love. it’s been a long three months without you.”

currently, you were sitting in your dorm room at ohio state university. you were on a facetime call with your boyfriend, peter parker. it was approaching midnight, 11:38 p.m., to be exact.

 the next morning, you would be boarding a plane home. you were beyond excited to see everyone during thanksgiving break, as you hadn’t seen your parents in a few weeks. parent’s weekend was the last week of october, so it had been a while. 

your heart ached at the thought of being curled up in bed with your dogs. your heart also ached at the thought of being curled up with your sweet, loving, boy.

peter had opted for a small private college in town for engineering and psychics. since he was a part of the avengers, they provided most of the funds for his tuition. it also helped that stark industries was on his résumé. meanwhile, you were about five hundred and thirty-three miles away in columbus.

yet, ohio state was your dream school. you wanted to go there since you could remember. it also helped that your father was an alumni. the university granted you a scholarship for that, and your ACT and SAT scores helped as well. you felt extremely blessed to be at your dream school, and you always remembered to remain humble.

“well babe,” peter began, “i need to start my term paper for my english class. anything on your mind before i go?”

“i just can’t wait to fuck you,” the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

peter raised a brow, “oh really? well, i can say the same for you princess.”

hearing your favorite nickname made your heart skip a beat, “i’m sorry i said that.”

“don’t be sorry,” peter smirked, “i loved hearing that. just you wait, princess. i’ll take care of you, just like i always do.”

“i want you now,” you whined.

“wait twenty-four hours and you’ll have me,” peter cooed, “i promise, princess. i have to go work on this paper, okay? i love you. text me.”

you pouted, jutting out your lip. peter sighed, “i can’t get distracted. it’s a ten page research paper. it’s really important babe.”

“okayyyy,” you huffed, picking a string on your comforter, “i love you too. see you tomorrow, handsome.”

“see you tomorrow, beautiful,” peter grinned, and the facetime call ended.

you plugged in your phone, letting it charge. you used to have a roommate, until she had to transfer in the middle of the semester. now, there was more empty space in the room. it was truly inevitable not to feel so lonely. especially when you were so fucking far away from everyone.

you hopped out of bed, opening the curtains. from your hall, you could see some of the glittering lights of the city. you could feel your heart aching, longing for the familiarity of your home. queens was your home. columbus was your second home. no where could ever compare to the place you grew up.

only a few more hours, though, and you would be home.

******

“is this seat open still?” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

startled, you glanced up to see a young man standing in the aisle of the airplane. even though you had the middle seat, the plane wasn’t entirely full. you decided to scoot closer to the window so you could see the sky.

you nodded, and the young man slid in beside you, “sorry, my seat was supposed to be the window seat, but i think you’re sitting in it. i don’t want to make you move. besides, looking out scares me a little bit.”

“i’m so sorry,” you apologized, “i didn’t know. you can have it back if you want.”

“oh no,” the man chuckled, “it’s not a big deal. don’t even worry about it.”

“where you flying to?” you inquired, as the man settled in his seat, “i’m (y/n), by the way.”

“i’m trying to get to manhattan,” the guy shrugged, “i’m aiden.”

“oh that’s cool!” you nodded, “i’m from queens.”

“gotcha,” aiden smiled, “actually, i’m coming from ohio state. i’m guessing you attend there as well?”

“yes,” you gushed, “i’m a kinesiology major, how about you?”

“i was a political science,” aiden replied, pulling out his phone, “but i switched to business. international marketing, specifically. i’m a junior though. i assume that you’re a freshman?”

“yep,” you answered, “navigating everything myself.”

“you’re not doing too bad,” he chuckled, “our background has probably helped a lot. do you have a snapchat or anything like that? don’t worry, i’m not hitting on you or anything. if you have a boyfriend back home, or at ohio state, i completely respect that. i just don’t want someone struggling alone. i’m not saying you are struggling, but i know the ins and outs of the school. if you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“oh yeah, i do,” you pulled your phone out of your pocket, “i’ll just add it to my notes and add you later. you’re extremely kind.”

“it’s not a problem,” aiden smiled, and that’s when you truly got a good look at him.

he was more than likely a college athlete. probably at ohio state for something like rugby, lacrosse, or rowing. he was fit, with a darker complexion. freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, and his dark brown curls were full. his jawline was clean, his handsome face completed with hazel eyes. god, if you weren’t single, you probably would have tried to make a move on the guy. he was gorgeous.

however, your anticipation to see the love of you life was eating away at you. your knee bounced up and down as you talked to aiden the rest of the flight. it was nice to have someone to talk to, as the it made the time fly by.

in no time, the plane was landing. aiden followed you as you boarded off, and towards the gate. security and bag checks felt like forever, but you finally made it through. you said your goodbyes to aiden, hoping that you two would reconnect once again. almost immediately, you were entering the train that was going to take you to your next stop. then, you would only be walking a couple blocks home. peter informed you that as soon as you were home, he was gonna come over.

you were excited, but a little anxious. insecurities started to creep into your thoughts. what if you had gained a noticeable amount of weight since the last time you saw him? what if you looked different? what if you weren’t good enough? even the thought of being naked in front of peter frightened you. however, you figured it was a little normal to be a little anxious. after all, it had been about three months since the last time you saw him.

suddenly, you were home. in front of you was your house, the crisp blue sky making the white paint appear clean and bright. the late november air was brittle, and the sun was on its way to dip over the horizon soon. skyscrapers in the skyline began to glisten as the sky got darker and darker. the traffic, people, and animals all became white noise as you walked up the sidewalk.

happiness flooded over you, especially as soon as you heard your dogs barking. you turned the knob, opening the door. your parents welcomed you with warm hugs, your dogs jumping everywhere with excitement.

after talking with your parents for a while, you trudged upstairs to your room. as soon as you opened the door of your room, you let out a sigh of happiness. so this is what pure happiness felt like. the feeling of bliss was immense.

you heard some commotion from your dogs downstairs, which you figured was a passerby or an animal. it happened often in your neighborhood. you could hear someone walking up the steps, and you inferred it was one of your parents.

it was not your mom or your dad. it was peter. immediately he scooped you into his embrace, and you felt yourself crumple into his arms. tears rolled down your cheeks as he squeezed you slightly, kissing the top of your head.

“i had no idea you were on your way,” you sniffled.

“once you stopped responding to my snaps for a bit i was worried,” peter murmured, “but i figured you were here. so i just decided to head this way.”

“i love you,” your eyes met his, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” peter grinned, “i love you more than you know, princess.”

******

“so what were you saying yesterday?” peter turned to you.

you raised a brow, confused, “what are you talking about?”

currently, you two were in your bed cuddling. it was the day before thanksgiving, so your parents were out buying groceries for the big dinner. so that left you and peter alone. the room was dimly lit by the christmas lights strung on the ceiling, and your favorite playlist was on low volume. peter’s shirt was off, and so were your pants. it just made things more comfortable.

“you talked about wanting to fuck me,” he answered, gently kissing your neck. he ran his fingers through your hair, “or was i mistaken?”

“i think you have a hearing deficiency,” you snorted, rolling over.

“heyyy,” peter whined, “how about i give you a back rub?”

the idea was tempting. it had been a long time since you had received a backrub from peter. sighing, you slipped off your hoodie, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. you laid on your stomach, and peter straddled your back.

his hands worked in gentle, soothing patterns on your skin. they stayed on your shoulders and back for a while, but started to drift downwards towards the small of your back, along with your butt. as he continued, you could almost feel the sexual tension in the air of the room. it was almost electric between the two of you as his hands roamed your body.

“hey princess,” peter’s voice was low, “can i take off your thong?”

you felt yourself stiffen, “no.”

“is something wrong?” his tone shifted from lust to fear. peter shifted his body so that he was now laying beside you again, “baby, what’s wrong?”

“i feel ugly,” you muttered, “it’s been a while, and i don’t know, i guess i feel insecure.”

“hey,” peter’s hand cupped your face, “you’re still beautiful (y/n) i fell in love with. i don’t care if anything has changed. if there are more stretch marks, i’ll kiss them all. whatever you’re worried about, let me handle, okay? you’re beautiful, (y/n). you’re so gorgeous. three months has no change to your beauty.”

“i love you,” your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“i love you more,” peter’s lips met yours gently. he pulled back for a second, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

peter looked as handsome as ever. it was clear he just shaved, as his face was clean. his floppy brown hair was somewhat contained, and his brown eyes shown, as there was nothing but love for you in his eyes. his lips were full, and he a looked wiser than he did since the last time you saw him. you figured stress, college, and being a hero all were factors. his muscles were apparent, rippling whenever he moved. god, you were so lucky to have this man.

you pressed your lips to peter’s, this time a little more forceful. he was taken a back by your actions, but regained control. he licked your bottom lip, and his tongue entered your mouth. he shifted you so that you were now underneath him. his callused hands trailed down the sides of your body, going up and down in slow motions. you could tell he was being careful, as you both wanted to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

“fuck,” peter mumbled.

“what?” your lips were still against his.

“i’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he admitted, “i can’t wait to make you cum.”

“then do it,” your words almost pushed him over the edge.

he tilted your head up, kissing directly under your jawline. you moaned softly, urging him to continue. he placed sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin. he had barely even started with you and you could feel how wet you were.

“can i take this off?” peter’s breath was hot against your skin.

“yes,” you answered, arching your back so his hands could unclasp your bra. he casted it to floor.

he placed kisses all over your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your thong.

“is it okay if i take this off too?” his tone was full of lust, you could tell he was beyond turned on.

peter’s cheeks were a slight tinge of pink, and his ears burned bright red. you figured you were just as bad, as you laid naked in front of him. his eyes casted over your entire body, taking it all in.

“you’re so beautiful,” peter seemed completely awestruck, “like fuck. can you do something for me princess?”

“what’s that?” you bit your lip.

“please sit on my face,” his question was more a plead as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “i want you to ride my face.”

“peter i don’t know,” your were unsure. it had been a while since you tried that position with him, and you didn’t want to suffocate your own boyfriend.

“i’ll still be able to breathe baby,” peter chuckled, as if he was reading your thoughts, “please? i need to taste my princess.”

his words were enough. you nodded, and peter laid on his back. nervously, you swung one leg over his body, and he pulled you closer to where he wanted you. once you were situated, his eyes met yours once more.

“just relax,” peter cooed, gently kissing each one of your thighs.

his tongue found your clit, going in slow, circular motions. a moan escaped your lips, only encouraging peter to keep going. one hand was on the small of your back to keep you steady, the other reaching up for your breasts. he began to suck slightly, which drove you closer and closer to your orgasm. god, you had missed this. peter knew exactly what you loved, and he showed no signs of slowing down either.

peter glanced up at you, watching as you moaned for him. his tongue slowly began to lick up and down, “such a good girl, keep moaning for me. i love when you’re loud.”

your moans echoed off the walls as peter continued to lick all over your pussy. his fingers tugged at your nipples, and you could feel your orgasm coming. you came without warning, your vision becoming blurry. your thighs trembled as pleasure washed all over you. peter gave your pussy one final lick, sending a shudder through your body.

“are you okay?” peter’s voice was no longer demanding. it was more gentle and soft. he helped you off his body, laying down with you in the bed. he began to trace his fingers down your exposed back, going in slow, soothing motions.

you nodded, “just tired, now.”

peter smirked, “did i wear you out?”

“just a little bit,” you scoffed, rolling over.

“don’t roll away from meeee,” he protested, wrapping you up in his arms, “i love you, princess.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, giving him a chaste kiss.

peter sighed with content, pulling you closer to his body. the door to your room was shut, so your parents wouldn’t bother the two of you. as you began to run your fingers through your hair, peter began to drift off. soon enough, he was out, his chest rising and falling. it wasn’t too long after that you fell yourself yourself.

coming home to peter was your favorite thing in the world.

[waywardnerd67]

My World, My Everything

Summary: She was everything to him. His entire world revolved around her, but a decision had to be made. He had a job to do and in making this decision he would save everything that meant the world to him. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 1899 Prompt: “All Our Own” -Radio Company (Lyrics are bold) A/N: This is for @atc74​ Collab Challenge Contest

His finger traced the worn edges of a small photo. The moment in which it was taken as fresh in his mind as if it had happened the day before. It was meant to be the most important day of his life and ended being one of the worst. Slipping the photo back into its spot held within his wallet taking one last, long look at it before closing it in place. Looking out over the dashboard of his car, Dean Winchester looked up into the darkening sky as the end came barreling his way.

October 29, 2005 - San Diego, California

Dean pulled into his normal parking spot at (Y/N)’s apartment building. It had been a few weeks since he last saw her. His case in New Orleans had taken a little longer than expected but now his plan was back on track. Before heading up to her place, he pulled out his phone hitting his dad’s number.

“Dad, when you get this call me. There’s something important I need to talk to about.”

Snapping the phone shut, he grabbed his bag and ran up the exterior stairs with his key in his hand. The door flew open just as he reached the top of the stairs. His eyes traveled the length of her curvy body marveling in her natural beauty. Her bright eyes matched the smile spreading across her face.

“Stop gawking and get your ass in here, Winchester.”

He jogged over and scooped her up holding her tightly, “I missed you pretty girl.”

Leaving (Y/N) had been the one of the hardest moments he had and finally pushed him to make a huge change in his life. Letting her go, Dean set his stuff near the door and kicked off his boots next to the black heels she must have worn to work that day. Seeing his stuff next to hers had his chest tightening with pure happiness.

Leaning against the counter he watched her cook as she told him all about her clients for the day. The only thought running through his mind was that this beautiful, successful business woman was all his. Instinctively he ran his hand over his right pocket of his jeans smiling softly as she continued to talk. Their dinner was simple and filled with laughter as Dean told her all about the voodoo case he had in New Orleans. The rest of their evening was filled with passionate love making and the most restful sleep Dean had in weeks.

Dean awoke to gentle kisses being pressed against his chest and shining eyes staring up at him. The corner of her lips curling into a smirk as he raised an eyebrow at her. One look from her had him pouncing and their morning began as their night had ended.

“Did you think about what we last spoke of?” (Y/N) was snuggled into his side with her leg draped over his waist.

He brushed his calloused fingertips against her soft skin, “Listen to yesterday long before the way it has become and it all came down to you.”

“And…?”

“I don't really know the way, played out stranger than it seemed. But what went down came true like an all day dream.” He pushed himself up as she propped herself up on her elbow.

Her eyes searched his eyes for the unspoken words he was holding deep within him, “Dean, it doesn’t have to be a dream. You’re twenty-six now and can make your own decisions. Especially when it comes to having a stable life.”

He ran one hand through his hair, “I don't wanna be the one to say it's wrong. When the heavens open and a new day comes along. I know I would rather be together alone in a big top circle and a world we can call our own. It's all our own.”

“Does that mean…” the sheet fell from her body as she sat up hope shining in her eyes.

“In a world we can call our own we'll find shelter, darling. Where I'll always promise to never let be. I’m here to stay.”

(Y/N) launched herself onto him kissing him wherever she could get her lips on, “Handsome, that is all I want is you here all the time. You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“Well, you can show me how happy you are.” Dean laughed as she playfully smacked him.

She got up heading towards her bathroom, “Maybe I will if you join me for a shower.”

Dean was about to follow her when he heard his phone beep with a new voicemail, “I’ll be right there.”

He watched her go in closing the door behind her. Looking at his phone his body tensed as the missed number was his dad’s. Quickly dialing his voicemail he listened to the strange message.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

There was EVP on the message which had panic tightening around his chest. He heard the shower turn on and his heart began to ache painfully. Pulling on his jeans his hand brushed against the small object that brought tears to his eyes. Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Dean grabbed his things then wrote out a note for (Y/N).

“I have to go. I love you, Dean.”

He shut the door as he heard (Y/N) called out to him. Running down the stairs and to his Baby, Dean took off like a bat out of hell. He knew the path all too well down to Palo Alto where his little brother, Sam, was going to college. It had been years since they last spoke but Dean always made a point to go find him from afar. Now, he needed his help in order to find their dad.

Present Day

Dean stood in front of his car alone facing the greatest threat the world had ever seen. Sam was back at the Bunker trying to figure out another way to save the world, but Dean knew it was pointless. This was his burden to bare. This was his destiny. Dying to save the world and his life was worth losing knowing that he was saving the world (Y/N) was living in. As he watched the dark clouds split open and a figure in a white suit emerging from them. Dean closed his eyes, the vision of (Y/N) clearly in his mind before opening them and heading straight for Chuck.

                                                          ***

(Y/N) was wrapped in her favorite blanket when the doorbell rang. A tall man, with long chestnut hair stood there. His eyes were bloodshot and tired looking. He was holding a small shoebox in his hands.

“May I help you?”

“Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” His voice was hoarse as if he had been crying.

She nodded, “Yes I am.”

The man took a deep breath, “My name is Sam Winchester…”

Hearing the surname made her gasp, “You’re Dean’s little brother. W-Where is Dean?”

His hazel eyes connected with hers with tears in them, “D-Dean wanted you to have this when he… when he passed.”

(Y/N) stared at the box shaking her head, “No. N-No… he can’t be. Tell me, he’s around the corner or on his way. Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone!”

Sam held the box out to her, “I-I’m sorry, but I can’t. He sacrificed his life in order to save the world. He defeated God and defended all the people of this world. The only thing he made me promise to do is deliver this box to you.”

As she took a hold of the flimsy shoebox a blood curdling sob erupted from deep within her chest and her body gave out as she fell into Sam’s outstretched arms. He helped her inside to her couch as she let out all of her anguish knowing the world no longer had Dean Winchester in it. Sam sat with her until there were no more tears left for her to give.

“I’m s-sorry.”

He rubbed her back, wiping away his own tears, “No need to apologize. Would you mind if I stay while you open the box? I’ve been watching him carry this around since he came to get me from college. I’m curious what’s inside.”

She nodded her trembling hands taking the lid off. There were all kinds of trinkets from all his travels. A worn copy of her favorite book, Little Women, with his hand written notes. A small photo album with pictures of him throughout the years he was away from her. Seeing his piercing olive eyes and handsome face brought fresh tears down her cheeks. Then there was a small square box and an envelope. Within the box was a simple diamond ring, a soft gasp coming from her.

“Pretty girl, I know you probably hate me and you should. I had to leave. Not because of my dad or the job. I had to leave to keep you safe. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you being alive, safe, healthy. Even though the thought of you being with someone else tears my heart apart, I hope you found someone who loves you as much as I do. I want you to live a full and happy life.

If you’re reading this then Sam has kept his promise. I’m gone but the world is safe. Don’t be sad that I’m gone. There was no choice in the matter and no other way. I had to save the world in order to save you and that meant my death. (Y/N), I love you. You are my world, my everything. I wanted to give you this ring the morning I left. I kept hoping one day I might be lucky enough to give you this in person. Now, I want you to have it to remember that you were the only woman for me. I love you so much. Live a long, beautiful life. -Dean”

(Y/N) took the ring, slipping it onto her finger, more tears falling down her face, “Damn it Winchester, even in death you’re a charming son of a bitch.”

Sam started laughing and (Y/N) found herself joining him. They began telling stories about Dean to one another until the early hours of the morning. Exchanging phone numbers with promises to keep in touch, (Y/N) watched Sam drive away in the all too familiar black Impala. She looked up to the sky, a cool breeze whipping past her.

“Dean Winchester, if you can hear me then you get your ass back down here to me.” She closed her eyes praying that he would be in front of her when they opened.

                                                          ***

A thousand miles away, the Earth split open shaking the ground violently. A large hand grasped the edge of the opening pulling themselves up onto the dirt. Coughing and dry heaving until collapsing onto the ground. Catching their breath and getting up they made their way down the nearest road. Nearly an hour later, they entered a small gas station asking to use the phone.

“This is Sam.” The familiar voice brought a wave of emotions over them.

“Sammy, it’s me. I-I’m back.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby​ @ladywinchester1967​ @akshi8278​ @ericaprice2008​ @deans-baby-momma​ @spnbaby-67​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @-lovepeacenhope-​ @destiel745​ @carribear31​ @srsllydunnodoncare​ @whimsicalrobots​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @starstruckzonkoperatorbat​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @bella-ca​ @drakelover78​ @imascio08​ @pisces-cutie​ @dwgrl1903-blog​ @mannls​ @the-salty-asian​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @xostephanie​ @superromijn​ @witch-of-letters​ @time-travel-bouqet​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @myinconnelly1​ @sister-winchesters99​ @thekatherinewinchester​ @maddiepants​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @sandlee44​ @destielhoneybee​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernaturalginger​ @emoryhemsworth​ @wednesdayismyfunday​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @atc74​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @casseythebee​

[lovelyirony]

for the made up fic title game what about... 'dice la canción que algún te llevarás mi tristeza (entre miles de colores)' which translates to 'the song says that someday you'll take away my sadness (in between a million colours)' 🥤

Tony knows that everyone thinks that soulmates fix everything. He’s seen all the movies of hopeful young women looking at the elegant, painted-on-script on their arms, starry looks pasted on as they sing some bullshit song about waiting for their true love. 

He’s read books about a man finding the love of his life in a diner, and how much love they both have for each other. It’s hailed as a literary classic and it’s his classmate’s (Timothy’s) favorite book. 

Movies and books. Some of the best tools for hiding realities. 

Here’s another thing that Tony has seen, read into: his parents’ relationship. 

Mama has the words wrapped up her leg, calling her gorgeous and wonderful. 

It’s a lie, of course. No one thinks their words lie, but Tony sees it in the way that her stance always shifts to put pressure on her right leg, the one without the words. 

How even in the summer, she’ll wear long skirts to cover the words, how she carefully skirts around how the “love of her life” is doing in interviews. 

Howard wears long-sleeved shirts, flirts with other women and says that words don’t matter in the face of love. 

The oldest trick in the book, and they fall for it every time. 

But Howard was right about one thing: words don’t matter. 

Tony has his right across his chest, in a script that’s half-print, half-cursive: 

I swear to god, get out of my way or so help me god I’ll kill you. 

Really nice words. Wow. Tony feels so infinitely loved and cherished. 

His mother flinches when she sees his words, flinches at how cruel his soulmate must be. 

Oh, he looks like his father alright...but he’s just like his mother. 

Maria may not have the same words, never in the same tone, but her life turned out as if it was that. 

Wives were an inconvenience to many businessmen, and she was no different. She had known that a week after their honeymoon, Howard’s eyes curious and roaming. 

The kind of curious that she had fallen for, and then quickly realized that curiosity was a dangerous thing for him. Was a dangerous thing for her too. 

But she played the role of adoring wife, and sometimes they were together alone and it wasn’t-it wasn’t too bad. He would smile and she would remember the good times with fondness, and then she would bitterly remember that her soulmate thought she wasn’t enough. 

Tony sees her thoughts. Mama has never been particularly good at hiding her feelings from her son. 

After all, he learned all her tells. Has quite a few of them himself. 

-

But soulmates don’t matter, not to him, and not when he has college to go to. Finally escaping from Howard’s thumb, finally on his own. He got an apartment all to himself, he’s going to learn how to cook and not burn shit, and things will be great. 

No time for thinking about soulmates when you’re busy thinking about if you really need to get more than three pans, and maybe you do? Not sure. 

His neighbors are quiet. They don’t really interact much. They saw him move in, blinked, and Tony waved. Nothing else to say. 

He still hasn’t met the guy who lives on his left. Tony’s heard crashes and brief cursing streaks, and maybe one glass that got dropped, but that’s it. All he knows is chaotic sounds and maybe that his name starts with a “J.” 

- 

It’s just the beginning of October when Tony is juggling his groceries with his hands (refusing to make more than one trip) when someone comes pounding into the hallway, and Tony can’t see over the chip bag he has. 

I swear to god, get out of my way, or so help me god I’ll kill you, comes the phrase. 

Tony blinks. 

“Not if I kill you first, you son of a bitch.” 

The guy gasps. 

“Wait, so this isn’t a serious situation where my soulmate is shitty?” 

“You said something shitty first!” 

The guy looks back, and there is a rather murderous looking frat boy out for blood. 

Tony takes one look at the situation, decides that he’s not going to make this guy fend for himself against a rage-filled boy in dock-shoes and too much hair gel, and pulls him into his apartment. 

The boy goes flying onto the couch, Tony spills a bag of apples, and the frat bro is yelling at the door and pounding on it. 

“What did you even do?” 

“I kind of maybe took his bed and threw it out a window because he was being shitty at a party I went to.” 

“On a scale of one to seven, how shitty?” 

“One to seven? Who are you, who the fuck uses that scale?” 

“Me! I use it! Now rate it.” 

“Um, like a six?” 

“Hm, that is pretty bad.” 

There’s a thump at the door. 

Oh, the frat boy is trying to break his door down. 

Tony goes over. 

“You’re opening the door?” 

“Just...have faith in me.” 

“Not to be like that, dude, but I just met you like two minutes ago and even though we’re soulmates that doesn’t mean I just blindly put everything I have into you.” 

Tony grins. That sounded...perfect. 

“Oh believe me sugar, same thing goes for you. But I have knowledge on my side.” 

The door swings open, and in charges the frat boy, seriously not thinking that the door would open. He runs into the couch, flips himself over, and he’s on the ground. 

Tony leans over him. 

“I have a security deposit on this place that I’d rather keep, you know that? I also just bought ice cream, and it’s going to become soup if you keep bothering us. Now go or I’m going to call security.” 

“And what the fuck are they gonna do?” The frat boy spits. He’s trying to get up, but cannot. What a shame. 

Tony leans in closer. 

“I want you to really look at my face. I’m sure you saw it on the cover of Time as part of the article ‘America’s Most Influential Family’. There’s a lot I could do.” 

His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, near-about running into the wall. 

His soulmate breathes out. 

“Oh man, thank you.” 

“No problem. Always using my status to make things go away, it’s fun.” 

“So like...you said you were America’s most influential what, son?” 

“In a sense. Probably not. But sometimes people know me.” 

“Am I supposed to know you?” 

“Only if you really wanna work at Stark Industries and need a good word put in.” 

“Oh, I’m going to the military. Air Force.” 

“They got lucky with a guy as nice as you. I’m sure they’ll be proud of all the frat boys you run from.” 

“I’m Jim,” he says, holding out his hand for a shake. 

“Not calling you that,” Tony says, shaking his hand. “That is too close to an old man, and you look far from an old man.” 

"That supposed to be a compliment?” 

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t flirt with old men, I flirt with attractive people.” 

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.” 

“Give me a minute.” 

Tony puts his ice cream in the freezer, coming back. 

“My name is Tony. What’s your last name?” 

“Rhodes, are you gonna use it for weird reasons?” 

“Nickname reasons. I’m thinking Rocky Rhodes.” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“Not if you want to eat at the best restaurant you’ve ever been to.” 

“If you call me Rocky Rhodes, no promises.” 

“Hmph, fine. What about...Rhodey?” 

“I can always change it later.” 

Tony smirks. 

“Hm, maybe I’ll let you. But I think it’s a good nickname.” 

They both are silent for a moment. 

“You have any more ice cream?” Rhodey asks. “I’d, um, I’d like to get to know you. And I’ll pay for ice cream later.” 

Tony should’ve said no. He’s seen all the failure with his parents, he’s heard all the horror stories, read the words on his skin enough times in the mirror to know that everything could mean nothing and that nothing could mean everything. 

But he smiles. 

“I’ll keep a running tab.” 

- 

It doesn’t end up like Howard and Maria, no matter how many times Tony thinks it will, wonders if he acts like it, if it will all descend into madness and he’ll be right. 

Rhodey is patient and he calls Tony out on his bullshit. They both smile at each other over cups of coffee, evening argument forgotten. 

When Rhodey has to go overseas, he always gets ragged on by his peers because he buys the cheesiest souvenirs. He never tells them who it’s for, and it’s not until Tony adds the absolutely terrible rendition of the Statue of Liberty onto his personal key-chain for his car that they connect the dots and stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. 

Tony makes him the most decadent of meals when he’s back, giving neck massages and draping blankets that are so soft they don’t feel real over them at night. 

They come together and it’s like the ways that the actors and actresses smile giddily up at their counterpart, how the authors describe two coming together. Except it’s better. 

Because Rhodey leaves the coffee filter in the machine and forgets to take it out, and Tony nearly always remembers to take it out before it’s a day later and the kitchen smells like old coffee. 

It’s the way that Tony is only a control-freak about the thermostat, and keeps it at seventy-five always. 

“You’re such an old man.” 

“You’re just a weird guy who likes it to be sixty-seven! Who does that?” 

Rhodey grins, kissing his man on the forehead. 

“Me. But I’ll keep it seventy-five. For now.” 

Tony settles back into the couch, pushing his legs over Rhodey’s. He smiles up at him, and it’s...it’s the best feeling Rhodey could hope for. 

[matildaofoz]

The Harvest Pt.1 (Warlock!Michael x Reader)

A/N: Happy Halloween, Witches and Warlocks! Here it is, part 1 of The Harvest, the one night of the year were predator and prey come to revel under the Blue Moon. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Cursing and the promise of more to come in Pt. 2

Tag List: @prophecy-is-inevitable​ @jimmlangdon​ @drasangel​ @leatherduncan​ @sexwon131​ @rocketgirl2410​ @9layerdevilfoodcake​ @vulgarprayer​ @michaellangdonstanaccount​ @michaellandgons-sunshine​ @iwillboilyourteeth​ @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul​ 

I hope I tagged all of you who showed interest, if not - I’M SORRY! Forgive me (and shoot me amessage so I can add you for Pt.2)

Fair Maiden,

you are hereby cordially invited to attend the annual celebration and Warlock tradition that is The Harvest.  

Upon the last night of October, you will partake in the ancient tradition as a guest of honor, taking place at the Langdon Estate.

All further necessary arrangements will be divulged to your person at an appropriate time.

We look forward to welcoming you and remain until such time

Sincerely,

Ambrose Holt,

High Warlock

The hand holding the parchment sank into your lap after you finished reading its contents out loud to your mother and stepfather. Confusion and a hint of fear flitted over your features and you began to worry your lip as your eyes skimmed over the contents again in an effort to make sense of them.

“That damned Son of a Whore, Ambrose Holt!” your stepfather cursed, beginning to pace the length of the drawing room.

“John Henry Moore, hold your tongue!” your mother hissed, taken aback by his foul language. Her eyes followed him around the room as she scooted closer to you on the chaise longue to take a look at the letter herself.

“It's all my fault! I never should have taken the two of you back here with me. I was foolish to think that something like this wouldn't happen,” he seethed, running his hands through his dark hair. He stemmed himself off the fireplace mantel, his mind racing at the significance of the letter.

“We'll tell them she won't attend, it's simple,” your mother retorted, placing one hand atop your own still clutching the piece of paper. The look on her face told you that she wanted to believe her own words more than anything.

“Darling, that won't be an option. Once you are invited you have to attend, you do not decline a High Warlock's Summon. This is a direct attack on me in the most barbaric way and I’ve dragged you both into my mess.” A humourless chuckle rumbled from his chest at the admission. Your mother’s hand squeezed yours tightly, lips drawn thin as she watched her husband. This was beyond a nightmare. He needed to come up with a plan, a way to halt the events that had been set in motion but begun a long time before he met you and your mother.

“I need to pay a visit to an old friend,” he muttered under his breath suddenly as he pushed himself off the mantelpiece and rushed for the door.

“Where are you going?” your mother threw after him but he was already out in the hallway.

“I’m going to see Behold Chablis. Don’t wait up for me!” he shouted before the front door slammed shut and the two of you were left in silence.

“It will be alright, Angel. Don’t you worry,” your mother said. She forced a smile and you weren’t sure if her words were meant solely for your own reassurance.

You remained silent, looking down at the letter, an uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach. If your stepfather sought the council of another warlock when he had sworn of his brotherhood for over a decade, it was a bad omen of things to come. Your eyes traced the elegant penmanship on the page. The Harvest. Whatever it was, it made the skin on the back of your neck prickle.

The letter had arrived that afternoon while you were busy tending to the garden with your mother. John Henry had taken custody of the letter, delivered by a private courier and paled as he saw the High Warlock Council's sigil etched on the envelope beneath your name.

Before your mother's marriage to the Warlock, you had believed the supernatural to be but flights of fancy, parables adorning the pages of children's fairy tales as a way to keep them from misbehaving, whispered his hushed voices over a candle under the guise of a full moon to scare each other. All that changed with John Henry's entry into your life at the age of 12. While he was himself a Warlock, a fact he kept hidden from everyone around him except for you and your mother, he had come to condemn his kind several years before. He felt his brethren had strayed from the righteous path of magick, meant to guide, heal and better the lives of those through who's veins it flowed in favour of a darker, more sinister purpose. At the centre of it, he believed the Langdon's were to blame. They had corrupted those around them, slithering their way even into the High Council itself and changing the fabric of the ancient brotherhood.

He told you what he thought you would need to know when you were old enough to at least partially understand, for your own protection should such a time arise. You were not of his blood but you were his daughter and he had sworn that he would protect both your mother and you. The arrival of the letter had made it clear that the time had come and he wasn't sure he would be able to make good on his promise to you after all.

He did not come back that night and after you mother had retreated to their bedroom, you too went up to your room to ready yourself for bed. However much you willed it, sleep did not come easy. In the darkness of your room, dimly illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the windows, your eyes were drawn to your writing desk were you had placed the letter. The words kept running throughout your head and the more you thought about them, the less you felt you understood them. With a huff you turned onto your side, squeezing your eyes shut tightly in an effort to stop the thoughts running a mile a minute. It must be past midnight by now and you were no closer to falling asleep. The last day of October was just over a week away and even though you couldn't possibly know what the night held in store for you, you'd be damned if you showed up unprepared. You may not be magically-inclined but you were well-versed in the art of reading. John Henry's library was just down the hall, the myriad of manuscripts and tomes softly calling your name in the dead of night.

“Oh, curse all this!” you muttered under your breath, throwing the blankets off your body and tiptoeing across the room to the door, evading the creaking floorboards that would alert your mother. She was a terribly light sleeper. The air around you was frigid, your nightgown doing nothing to keep out the chill that crept up your legs and over your bare arms. You edged along the wall to your desk, placing the knitted shawl hung over the chair around your shoulders.

Quietly, you inched across the hallway, stopping for a moment to look at your parents closed bedroom door. Silence. Taking it as your cue, you flitted to the door on the far end of the corridor, hoping to God that he hadn't locked it. Gingerly, you pushed down on the handle so it wouldn't squeak. The door swung ajar. Unlocked. With a small satisfied grin, you pushed through the opening and closed it behind you silently. A relived sigh escaped your lips as your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark room, any moonlight blocked out by thick curtains. You had only been in John Henry's study a couple of times, to stand at the threshold as you told him that dinner was ready or to venture in to bring him a cup of tea while he poured over manuscripts behind the large mahogany desk. While he did believe wholeheartedly that a lady should be educated beyond learning to play the piano and housekeeping, he had made it clear that the books in his study were off limits.

“There is nothing in my study that a young lady such as yourself need concern yourself with. The less you know, the better,” his words rang in your ears. You wagered he would be eating his own words right about now, considering the events of the afternoon. You scoffed, as you inched your way across the plush carpet under your bare feet, to where you believed his desk was. Your eyes were beginning to make out the silhouettes of the furniture and soon enough your hip bumped into hard wood. You winched at the the small pain and your hands began to feel out for the box of matches you knew he kept on the desk somewhere. He could easily light the candles or the fireplace in his room with a snap of his fingers because he had shown you. However, he preferred not to, saying it made him feel more like any other man who was not gifted with his supernatural inclination.

“Ha!” you exclaimed as your right hand came upon the match box, your left coming up over your mouth to stifle the sound. Several seconds went by with you as still as a statue as you waited to hear your parents bedroom door creak open. When no sound bar the pounding of your heart reached your ears, you let out a breath, cursing yourself. You couldn't risk being found out when you hadn't even begun to gather any information. Without wasting any more precious time, you swiftly took out a match and light it on the rough side of the box. The flame came to life before your eyes and all you could see was the bright light for several blinding seconds. Your eyes roamed over the desk now bathed in the small flame and you found the candle holder. You took off the glass cover and held the match to the wick, lighting the candle and placed the cover back over the now burning candle to keep it from being blown out. Hooking your finger into the holder, you ventured over to the wall of books, suddenly discouraged from your task at the sheer volume of knowledge stacked into the ceiling-heigh bookcases tat adorned the wall. This was going to be much more tedious than you had anticipated. Your eyes began skimming over the spines, half of what was on them not making any sense to you.

The Seven Wonders, The Musings of one Augustus Bromhold, Lupercalia throughout the Ages, The Warlock's Pocket Guide to Necromancy. You continued along the shelves, some of the books so old that in the dim light you couldn't make out the writing and some didn't seem to have any on the spines at all.

A Complete History of Warlock Traditions

At the title, your mind went back to the letter. The Harvest had been described as an annual tradition so surely, in a book entitled 'A Complete History of Warlock Traditions' it must be mentioned. You peeled the tome from the confines of the shelf and went to sit in the armchair stood next to the cold fireplace in the corner. You placed the candle on the small side table and and opened the book at the back, hoping to reveal the glossary. Having found what you were looking for, you flipped back to the page and began to read, teeth softly gnawing at your lower lip.

The Blood Harvest, an archaic ritual celebration held on the 31st of October was outlawed by the High Warlock Council on 4th April, 1763. Still referred to by outliers of the Warlock Brotherhood simply as The Harvest, in an effort to conceal the brutal nature of the dark rite of passage ritual, it is rarely observed to this day. The High Council has prosecuted the outlawed celebration and of those who oppose the rule of law and remain faithful to the ritual to this day. 

Celebrated annually before its outlaw, the ritual invoked the divine duality. Warlocks and human women, dressed to represent The Horned God and Triple Goddess respectively, partook in the ritual sacrifice on All Hallow's Eve to appease the supernatural beings that stalk the living on the night of the undead. Often cited to bestow great powers on the Warlocks who successfully complete the ritual rite of passage with one of the women selected, it is now widely regarded as nothing more than bloodshed, sacrificing those unfortunate and unknowing females to a slow and painful death at either the hands of the Warlocks if they so choose or the creatures invoked as formidable foes to the young men as a way to prove their supremacy over the dark forces and step into adulthood.

A cold shudder ran down your spine as your eyes read over the passage, letting the book sink into your lap. How was it possible that a High Warlock invited to you to an outlawed tradition by the High Council itself 100 years ago no less? Unless, it was no longer outlawed...John Henry's knee-jerk reaction to the letter no longer seemed so cloak-and-dagger.

A sudden creaking of floorboards on the other side of the door made your pulse thrum in your neck. Had your stepfather returned or perhaps you had been too loud and your mother had heard? You would've heard either the front door or the bedroom door open but then your mind was still swooning from your discovery. Gingerly, you placed the book on the side table next to the candle and inched to the door. Your breath caught in your lungs as you listened, on ear pressed to the cool wood. You could hear someone, something on the other side. The sounds of scratching against the wood made you shrink back, one hand coming to rest over your chest, your heart beating erratically. Your other hand reached for the door handle and you collected your wits about you before you pushed down the handle and yanked it open. You were greeted by a mass of fur and dark eyes that shot up to your face, equally as surprised as you were.

“Oh heaven's, Rosie!” you hissed, trying to calm yourself down at the sight of the family dog that must've heard you wandering around and decided to see for herself what you were up to in the dead of night. She tilted her head slightly at the mention of her name, looking past you and into the study that was off limits to her, her nose sniffing at the foreign scent of the room. If it wasn't for your incessant insistence that the St. Bernard was despite her outward appearance, nothing more than an overgrown lap dog,your parents would have kept her outside almost exclusively. With a lazy curiosity, she stepped over the threshold past your legs to inspect the new-found territory. You quickly walked past her to place the book back in its place on the shelf and took the candle holder in your hand, before turning around to see that Rosie had plopped herself down on the carpet in the middle of the room, watching you through her friendly heavy eyes.

“Rosie, you know you are not allowed in here. Well, technically neither and am I so where does that leave us? Come on, let's not leave any trace of us being here,” you berated her half-heartedly, grabbing her by he collar in the hopes that she would grace you with compliance. She looked up at you with an expression of indifference, seeing as your late-night musing must've roused her from her slumber downstairs as she came back up on all fours with a huff to trot out the room in front of you, waiting at the threshold.

“I don't know about you, but I could use some fresh air, what do you say?” you whispered in her direction, her presence calming your frazzled nerves somewhat. With one final glance around the study, you exited, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possible, leaving no trace of your trespassing. Should your mother, wake you could put the blame on Rosie for rousing you to go outside. You'd make sure to bring the candle back up with you, when you came back later. With a nod of your head, you silently bade her to follow you down the stairs and out the front door.

The midnight air was as welcome to your burning skin as it was chilling, serving to ground you and you pulled the shawl tighter around your shoulders with one hand, the candle in the other dimly illuminating the air around you. You watched the lit wick flicker slightly, growing and wavering in intensity, shielded only by the glass from the wind. Ever since this afternoon, your world had begun to tilt on its axis, threatening to plunge you into the unknown, to blow out that candle and yet there was no glass cover to keep you from being engulfed by the darkness that surrounded you. Rosie began to make her rounds around the front of the house and you became lost in your thoughts of what would happen but a week from now. John Henry had tried to shield you, believing it was safe to finally return to his birthplace with you in tow. Now it seemed, all those years of shielding you from his past would come to haunt your present.

Rosie's low growl beside you pulled you out of you reverie and your eyes snapped into the direction she faced, teeth bared and snarling. You struggled to see the source of her sudden defence through the candlelight blinding you of your surroundings and the dense mist that settled over the ground at night. Beyond the stone walls along the gravel road, you could make out a cloaked dark form and for a moment you thought it was John Henry who had come back from his visit to his old warlock friend. Yet the tall figure stopped about 100 yards away in the middle of the road, an ominous feeling creeping up your legs and spine at the sight. Your house was nestled in the countryside, the next estate and their occupants miles away. You stood, frozen to the spot as you waited for the figure to move. Around them, the fog grew thicker, spreading outward like pipe smoke blown against a glass pane, and engulfing both you and Rosie, who began to growl beside you.

Michael watched as you left the house, your nightgown billowing in the frigid night breeze, revealing glimpses of the smooth skin of your legs. When Ambrose Holt had told him of the letter sent to John Henry's stepdaughter, he knew he needed to see for himself what would ultimately be the downfall of that heretic Warlock who had come too close to undoing all of what his family, his father had set out to achieve. To restore the warlock bloodlines to their former glory and to retake what he and many others considered to be their birthright. It was foolish to think that mere humans could achieve what his kind had over millennia, he scoffed at their hubris in the face of such mundaneness. John Henry had forsaken his kind and had tried to smother their power, their supremacy.  He should've remained in his self-imposed exile, Michael mused as his eyes took you in, still unaware of his gaze on you, smiling at the way the breeze plucked small strands of your hair out the loose braid you wore to bed, the way it flushed your cheeks a rosy red. You would make the perfect Goddess to his Horned God.

He could whisk you away right now when you offered yourself so freely, unattended in the middle of the night, your pet of a dog wouldn't stand in the way one bit. Patience, he chastised himself as he walked closer along the road with calculated slow steps, his black cloak swishing around him, his hood drawn down into his face. He had waited this long to take revenge on John Henry, he could wait a week more, even though you made it hard for him when your eyes finally spotted him, raking over him at the sounds of that wretched beast beside you. Underneath the hood, he grinned, satisfied by your reaction. He could smell your fear even from here, so deliciously terrified at the site of him, frozen on the spot. He had you precisely where we wanted you. With a barely cognisant flick of his wrist at his side, the fog grew ticker around him and his invisible fingers reached through it to graze along the backs of your legs and up your spine. Oh, he was going to enjoy this years Harvest more than ever when the prize was you and all you embodied.

You felt the fog move against the base of your neck, distinctly like fingers on your skin. The candle in your hand began to flicker and blew out, leaving your in darkness, only the pale moonlight as your guide. Your eyes grew wide as you were plunged into darkness and before them, the cloaked stranger disappeared into thin air, swallowed by the mist. Rosie's growls stopped and she shook off her guard, back to her usual self. You met her gaze, you heart still pounding furiously before you hastened back to the house, nearly tripping on your way up the stone steps. Rosie trotted after you, nudging you up the stairs. Even though she didn't seem half as bothered as you, she rarely moved this quickly. You pushed open the front door, Rosie slipping inside past your feet. You threw the door closed behind you, your back pressing into the wood as you struggled to catch your breath. For a moment, you stood in darkness and silence before heading up to your room, not caring if your mother would wake at the ruckus you made. You prayed that John Henry would be back by the morning with answers. The candle holder out of his room stood forgotten on the hallway table.

[kuramirocket]

undefined

In the grand cosmos of her life's journey, Ali Guarneros Luna discovered early on, the path to the stars is not a straight shot - but a winding course that sometimes skirts peril and disappointment.

As an engineer at NASA, Luna knows what's involved in navigating space. Her engineering fingerprints are all over numerous satellites currently orbiting the earth. And as project manager for NASA's Small Satellite Program she's worked on projects aimed at deepening understanding of what lies beyond. But her trajectory was definitely not a direct line.

"I was born in Mexico. My mother was born there. Being an immigrant in this country," Luna said, "having a harsh beginning, being a woman, it’s difficult, right?"

Luna's passion for space travel touched-off when she was seven-years-old living in her native Mexico City.

Unlike others who gaze up at the stars contemplating the meaning of the universe, Luna wondered about the machines that would make the trip possible.

"I was just so captivated at seven -- that I was like 'I want to do that!'" Luna recalled. "That’s exactly what I want to do and at that age I was like, 'I’m going to be an aerospace engineer.' My upbringing was different, I want to say, from most girls because I was never told that I had to fit certain roles. I guess it was because I was the oldest one of four. I had to step up. And the two youngest ones were boys. And I was a hyperactive child. So I never had that actually being a situation where I felt that I was not good enough in math or science. Because I had to be the boss. So it just happens that in that environment, even though I was only one of two girls within a bunch of young kids, mostly boys, I was doing what I wanted to do. And it was very exciting. So I never really had that. So with me going into aerospace engineering, I think it was an easy thing.”

After the 1985 Earthquake in Mexico City, her life changed. Ali and her mother immigrated to California and settled in San Jose, CA. With only two pieces of luggage, they left everything behind, especially close friends and family.

During the anti-immigration efforts like California Proposition 187 in 1994, school was the only thing Ali was allowed to do as her mother feared deportation. Her new schedule was limited to traveling from home to school and back, with no room to do the sports she loved. So school became her outlet — it became a safe place for her to grow up, where she could continue to learn and grow.

“So within six months of working full-time, my mother lost her job. So I became the one that supported the whole family. And I did it for about five years. It was tough because being so young and understand that my mother needed my support. And my brothers, being they were looking up to me -- it's something that's heavy when you're so young. You don't understand. But when I was growing up, I always moved on the opportunities that presented in front of me, and I did what I needed to do without looking back.”

Despite being a single mom, Ali’s mother worked hard to make sure Ali had every opportunity growing up. Ali was very athletic and participated in many sports and gymnastics, track being her favorite. When she wasn’t playing sports, she was reading the encyclopedias that her mother bought for her.

“My mother loved encyclopedias. My mother had so many. I would just sit in the living room reading about space shuttles after school because I really wanted to understand what they did.”

On the cusp of adulthood, she graduated high school and went straight into the workforce. Although she loved school, she wanted to support her mother and her family. She attempted to go to community college while working full time, but the emotional stress was overwhelming and she dropped out. In the next few years, she had four children, with two who had special needs. While caring for her children at home and researching their disabilities, she realized that she needed to go back to school.

“I saw my kids who were born with special needs, and I asked myself ‘How I can help them?’… it was clear to me that I needed to go back to school. I wanted to give them a stable life.”

Back-to-school, together. After her youngest child enrolled in kindergarten, Ali enrolled at San Jose City College and transferred to San Jose State University majoring in Aerospace Engineering. In this transition from stay-at-home mom to full-time student, she became a single parent. She was a full-time student while being a full-time mom, taking care of four children. 

"I was too old, I was not as young as any of the students, and I definitely was not in that mold of students," said Guarneros Luna. "I had four children. I didn't think of myself as someone who was going to contribute something special."

“I went and applied for an internship without thinking that I was ever going to come and work for NASA. I did have a bachelor's degree, but I was old. I was not a young person. The internship was only going to be for three months.  Because of the internship I have to leave one job and then be here. I knew it was only for three months, but the opportunity was too much to pass up. And then I became a contractor. And then it was important to apply for a civil servant. And I became a civil servant. ”

Ali has managed ten interns, introducing them to aerospace engineering through several projects including building three satellites and researching the design for return capsules for the International Space Station. Commercializing ISS has been a difficult problem for NASA and the process to ship products back and forth from the space station has to go through large space vehicles like Falcon, which takes three to six months. Space is limited on these vehicles and launching them gets very expensive. She and her team are paving the way to redesign return capsules with small payload returns so that astronauts can get the products they need for experiments in three business days rather than months later, allowing for more research to be done more efficiently.

Here is a part of the conversation with Ali Guarneros Luna, NASA Engineer and Deputy Project Manager at NASA’s Ames Research Center in Silicon Valley:

Host: When you became a civil servant you were working on some safety aspects?

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yeah. Safety mission assurance. So when I started for this small set of projected, specifically the TechEdSat, you're going through the space station. And you're dealing with humans inside. So everything you put inside the space station, you have to be careful of what you put in there and understand what are the consequences if something goes wrong.

So I was one of the group of engineers who started that process and started learning and setting it up for the following satellites that are going to be deployed from the space station. So I ended up doing all the safety data package, which is like documentation about your hardware that you put into space where you analyze all the hazards that you present to the space station or to the astronauts and then how are you going to control them and how are you going to verify them. So I was doing that. I became so good that I ended up doing every single one from the one first one to now, right?

Host: You do it right once, then they keep coming back.

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yes.

Host: This is my job now.

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yes. I was an engineer. I was part of the engineer group like two years ago. But there was an opening in safety mission assurance. Just for me to learn, I just say, "Why not? Let me go in there." So when you're an engineer and you go to school, nobody teaches you anything about that. You learn it on the job.

Despite her unique circumstances, Ali believes the challenges she experienced guided her to make the right decisions for her future. “I am resilient, if there’s a problem, there’s more than one solution”, she states, “To overcome difficult decisions, you need to plan for them…educate yourself so that you have the tools to make a plan of action.”

Every summer, Guarneros Luna gives back to her community. She goes back to San Jose State as a professor. "It's important for them to hear from somebody who did not come from a privileged background and did not come from parents that were educated," she said. "In my mind, I have that 'semillita' of education, that I wanted to get educated. A seed planted in me to go and get an education early on." The next time you look up and think your dreams like the moon are too far to reach, Guarneros Luna wants you to remember: 238,000 miles is actually closer than you think.

As an aerospace engineer, Ali is an advocate and actively promotes Science, Technology, Engineering and Math (STEM) education. She is registered with the NASA Ames Speakers Bureau and is an active participant of this program. Ali also supports yearly programs like, Girls Scouts Go Tech, SWE Get Set, Soles Science Extravaganza, Society of Women Engineers (SWE) “WOW that is Engineering”, Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers (SHPE )“Noche de Ciencia” by providing hands-on activities and tours of the labs at SJSU. In 2012, Ali had contact with the Mexican university,, Universidad Autonoma de Baja California, UABC. She hosted a 6-week workshop at SJSU for the UABC students to build and launch an armature rocket. The success of this project was greatly broadcast in Mexico and as a result the Agencia Espacial Mexican, AEM, is interested in organizing a similar program but with the involvement of more universities.

Ali is committed to encouraging young people to pursue science, technology and engineering careers. In recognition of her achievements, the Hispanic Engineering National Achievement Awards Conference (HENAAC) named Ali Guarneros Luna as one of the 2013 Luminary Honorees. In October 2015, Ali was awarded the NASA Honor Award - Equal Employment Opportunity Medal., She also received the ISS Space Award in 2014 for her contributions to SPHERES, Modular Rapidly Manufactured Small Satellite (MRMSS), Nodes and TechEdSat Series Projects:

SPHERES: For dedication and exceptional performance in the development and operations of free flying robotic satellites inside the ISS testing autonomous satellite maneuvers.

MRMSS: For dedication and exceptional performance in research and development of modular design and manufacturing processes for spacecraft systems.

Nodes: For dedication and exceptional performance in two nanosatellites that will be deployed from ISS to demonstrate networking and advanced multi-spacecraft operations

TechEdSat Series: For exceptional performance and dedication in the development, test, launch, ISS deployment, and operation of the TechEdSat Nanosatellite spaceflight mission; launching the first NASA CubeSat from the ISS. TechEdSat-3p: For exceptional performance and dedication in the development, test, launch, ISS deployment, and operation of the TechEdSat-3p Nanosatellite “Exo-Brake” spaceflight mission; launching the first 3u NASA CubeSat from the ISS.

Ali Guarneros Luna currently works with the Office of System Safety & Mission Assurance (SS&MA) at NASA Ames Research Center. Prior to her work in the SS&MA, Ali worked in Ames’ Engineering Directorate as a technical authority for small satellite development and payloads bound for the International Space Station (ISS). In the Synchronized Position Hold, Engage, Reorient, Experimental Satellites (SPHERES) National Lab, she worked as the system and safety engineer. In the Edison Program, Ali served as the system engineering, mission and ground operations, and launch vehicle service expert for multiple CubeSat projects including the Technological and Educational Nanosatellite (TechEdSat). Ali functioned as the Deputy Project Manager, ISS expert, and launch vehicle interface for the Small Spacecraft Technology (SST) program’s Nodes project. In the Sub-Orbital Aerodynamic Re-entry EXperiments (SOAREX) Series of suborbital experiments, Ali has performed in multiple engineering roles to include design, building and testing engineer. Ali is currently the deputy project manager and co-investigator for the SOAREX 9 and SOAREX 10 missions.

She received her Bachelor of Science and Master of Science degrees in Aerospace Engineering from San Jose State University (SJSU) in 2010 and 2013, respectively. Upon completion of her undergraduate degree, Ali obtained an internship at NASA Ames with the Office of the Chief Technologist. During her time as an intern, she led and helped develop education and outreach programs for SJSU. The first program was called System of Networked Autonomous Positioning Satellites (SNAPS) followed by the TechEdSat Series. As a professional engineer, Ali has lead various projects affiliated with the ISS.

During her internship at NASA Ames, Ali supported the SNAPS project, which is an evolution of the SPHERES program which aims to demonstrate the practical applications of a network of autonomous probes. SNAPS was a test bed for guidance, navigation, and control (GNC) capabilities to enable probes to navigate without human interference or the need for external control.

As a professional engineer, Ali was mission manager for TechEdSat-1. In this capacity, Ali had managerial and oversight on all technical and programmatic aspects of the NASA Ames- SJSU project. In particular, Ali provided technical contributions to both speed the development and avoid ISS define hazard that could stop the mission, through innovative design, lab testing, and qualification methods for the TechEdSat flight hardware. She also developed and engineered the Auxiliary Lateral Inhibit (ALI) Switch for safety deployment from the ISS. Ali has co-authored technical papers for the TechEdSat structure and payload including the project plan and Safety Data Package, among others. 
Her efforts enabled the project to successfully meet both ISS program and Ames Engineering Requirements. Developed, built, tested and certified for flight to the ISS in only 9 months, TechEdSat-1 was the first American CubeSat deployed from the ISS as well as being one of the first CubeSats deployed from the Station overall. TechEdSat-1 completed a life cycle with over 1000 beacon packets and 208 days of service. The TechEdSat-1 deorbited May 5th, 2013.

As a result of TechEdSat-1’s enormous success, an opportunity was presented to develop, build, test and certify TechEdSat-3P which ultimately launched to the ISS in 2013. For this mission, Ali served as a mentor to the other students and engineers as well as performed the role of safety engineer. For TechEdSat-4, launched in 2015, Ali was a radio frequency, safety and system engineer.  Currently Ali is working on TES-5 as the quality and system engineer.

Ali is the deputy project manager, liaison and lead for ISS requirements for the Network and Operation Demonstration Satellites (Nodes) mission.  This mission was deployed from the ISS in May 16th, 2016.

Developing new technology, Ali currently works with the SOAREX Series team. SOAREXserves as a test bed for a variety of re-entry and supporting technologies for use in automous sample return and other applications. Within the SOAREX team, Ali has multiple engineering roles from designing, building and serving as a testing engineer. She is also the deputy project manager and co-investigator for SOAREX 9 and SOAREX 10 missions. Ali supported the Orion Thermal Protecsion System (TPS) as a S&MA lead for the sensor on the Heat Shield (HS). She oversees the quality and safety of the design, build and testing of the sensor that would be installed in the HS for the next flight back in 2018.

In 2011 Ali was a member of the Plug-n-Play Mission Operations (PPMO) Workshop organizational committee at NASA Ames and helped organize the workshop held at SJSU. In 2013, Ali was on the student committee for the 10th International Planetary Probe Workshop (IPPW-10), which was held at SJSU the week of June 17th 2013.

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

[tobin-heaths]

Remember me 

request: Alex has been incredibly busy lately and basically forgetting dates/neglecting her gf. Her gf, R is understanding for the most part but can't help feel insecure and starts pulling away and distancing herself from Alex. Alex at first doesn't think much of it but then realizes whats happening and feels guilty. She decides to make it up to R and show her how much she loves her and how beautiful she thinks she is.

pairing: Alex Morgan x Reader

words: 1839

You knew it would happen again but you didn't expect it so soon. You thought you were prepared and that it wouldn't hurt, that you wouldn't let it hurt you anymore.

You were so wrong.

How disappointed can one feel when left sitting alone in a restaurant at a table meant for two?

You waited for more than an hour before the sadness took over. Alex had promised to come, she promised you with everything she had and yet there was no sign of the brunette.

Alex and you were dating for quite a while now and there was a time where you thought nothing could possibly ever hurt you again with her by your side.

Your head hang low and in shame as the waiter came back to your table looking at you with pity. "I don't think she'll be showing up today, Miss." He said.

"No, I don't think so either. I'd like to pay the bill now though." You took the last sip from the champagne you ordered and tried to hold your tears back.

Your phone was laying next to you, no calls or messages from your girlfriend. You didn't know what to do, you wanted to call her and scream at her, tell her all about the pain she had caused you over the last few months.

But that wasn't fair to her. Alex worked hard and way too much since winning the World Cup in July. The whole journey had been amazing but also exhausting.

Alex had photoshoots after photoshoots, countless interviews and not to mention the victory tour from August to October. So yes, you understood her forgetting about you, but at one point this had to stop.

This was hurting you as well, more than she would know.

It was your three year anniversary and you had this whole evening planned out for her. Maybe this would've been a welcome distraction for her but Alex seemed far too busy for that.

You returned to an empty home, scoffing at yourself for thinking otherwise. She was probably held up somewhere then.

Checking your Instagram you saw a story from said person. You held your breath for a second as a few tears slipped from your tired eyes.

With a shaky finger you tapped her beautiful icon and watched in disbelief as you saw her together with Allie and Kelley working on their merch. She wasn't even in Florida at the moment, she completely forgot all about you and this anniversary.

You decided not to bother her any further and just go to bed for the rest of the night. There was no use in calling or texting her, you were unwanted anyways.

Waking up your eyes opened and locked on the sleeping form of Alex Morgan. For a moment you were completely speechless as this came unexpected.

Your heart bursted with love as she was drooling onto the fabric of her pillow, her hair a wild mess.

Normally you would've touched her by now, gently caressing her cheek or lips, maybe even kissing her awake but you were so afraid that you jumped out of bed, careful to not wake her.

You knew you couldn't face her after yesterday, you wouldn't know how to act or what to say without breaking into tears.

"What am I doing?" You mouthed into the mirror and stared at yourself, eyes filling with tears.

You closed your eyes and leaned against the sink, the feeling of emptiness coming back.

Getting ready for the day you arrived in the kitchen making yourself some coffee and scrambled eggs with a small amount of porridge. Alex would get up soon, it was practice day.

"Morning, baby, I missed you." Arms circled around your waist as you stood at the stove, your body tensing in shock.

"You did?" Your hands were slightly shaking, your throat closing up as if you were getting choked.

Alex' perfume numbed your mind, the warmth of her skin numbed you, her whole presence was intoxicating.

She turned you around and stared at you, her eyes screaming 'don't you dare look away'. You couldn't stand this, it didn't feel right to you, so you quickly duck out of her arms and walked over to the table taking your plates, disappearing into the garden right as she was about to kiss your lips.

Alex stared after you with confusion and shrugged not thinking much of it as she filled herself a cup of coffee.

Arriving at practice in separate cars– you left home earlier than her– you quickly changed in the locker room and walked out onto the field.

Alex arrived shortly after, the both of you normally always drive together but again she didn't think much of it at that point.

"Look who's here, bitch, give me all the juicy details. Did she bang you yesterday?" Ashlyn was smirking as she walked towards you, Ali not far behind.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Ash." You sighed and walked off. She turned around and looked at Ali who was raising her eyebrows and shrugging her shoulders. "Guess we'll ask Alex then." She said and stared after you.

As practice started you kept your distance from the brunette. You rarely looked at her, only if you had to when passing the ball or yelling for a pass. Otherwise you kept your eyes to the ground, talked to others or hurried away before she could talk to you.

Alex grew more and more confused. Deciding enough was enough she walked over to Ashlyn. "Hey, do you know what's up with Y/N? She's been weird ever since the morning."

"Don't ask us. Too much sex maybe? Her legs work rather fine though." Ash giggled. "Don't mind her. How was the date anyways? She was really excited days ahead." Ali spoke, pushing Ash away from them both.

"Date?" Alex frowns. And then it dawned on her. You acting so weirdly the whole time, drifting away from her, looking at her with a longing look whenever you thought she wasn't paying attention. It all made sense now.

Alex slapped her forehead and groaned. "Oh my god. I'm such an idiot. I screwed up, Ali. I don't know if she'll forgive me." Alex panicked.

"What? What happened? What do you mean?" Ali asked stepping closer to her friend.

"I forgot about the anniversary, I was out of the state yesterday working on merch. I didn't mean to, Ali. Fuck! This wasn't my first time forgetting about her. She said it was fine but never acted like this. I believed her. I was so busy with everything going on, I didn't mean to. What do I do now?"

She looked over to you running away from Ash who was trying to snatch the ball from your feet.

"I think you know exactly what to do. You're Alex Morgan. Apologize and make it up to your lady! She loves you." Ali said.

Practice went by smoothly for you, Ash and Ali taking you out to the city afterwards, it was much needed.

Walking up to your front door hours later your mood crashed once again, the house was dark therefore Alex was not home yet.

"Here we go again." You mumbled as you opened the door.

Your eyes widened seeing dozens of rose petals laying on the floor building a trail towards the living room where small candles illuminated the room.

You dropped your bag at the door and followed the petals until you reached the living room, your mouth wide open in amazement, your heart beating a mile.

Alex was standing in front of the huge dining table dressed in a gorgeous red dress, hair and makeup done, whereas you looked like a mess with your boring street clothes. The beauty of this woman was unmatched.

"Alex I–" You were speechless. "Please don't say anything. Let's sit and listen to me, please." She said and pointed at the chair she pulled out for you.

"Alex, what's all this?" You asked sitting down, watching her walk over to her spot.

There was a delicious looking plate of pasta in front of you, two huge candles lighting up the space as more rose petals decorated the table. You also noticed the fire burning in the background.

Taking a deep breath Alex began talking. "First of all, I'm sorry for screwing up and forgetting our anniversary. It wasn't my intention to let you hang like that. I was out of my mind, all the appointments completely taking over. It's not an excuse, I know that. You were always so patient with me every time I forgot about us. I don't know how I deserve you, honestly. It blows my mind that you're my girlfriend. Nobody could have my back like you do, all the support you gave me whenever I was drowning in work. I'm sorry I couldn't give back to you, I feel absolutely terrible."

"I know you're drowning in work, you just won a damn World Cup. I'll always be with you and support you no matter what but it felt awful yesterday. It was our anniversary for heaven's sake, Alex! How can you forget about that? I can understand all the other dates, it's not that important, I mean I'm not a national player like you, I don't know much about all that pressure and constant visibility with media but this was about us, it should've distracted you. I love you, Alex, so much and I don't want to spend my life without you. I felt like a burden and other times I felt like my anger and sadness wasn't right, like it was unfair. It made me think what if you were falling out of love with me?" You teared up.

Alex hurried over to you and hugged you. "Don't ever say that again, no matter what, you hear me? No matter what, I'll always fucking love you, Y/N. You are the most beautiful, amazing, supportive human I've met. I'd be an idiot to throw that away. I don't know how I could let it get that far, this never happened to me before. I'll make it up to you, baby. I promise."

Her thumbs gently brushed your tears away and kissed your lips.

Your emotions were all over the place. You really were head over heels for this woman, you could've married her on the spot.

"Let's try to enjoy this dinner before I'll take you upstairs into the bath. We can watch some movies afterwards and cuddle like there's no tomorrow. I bought some ice cream as well. I'll make it up to you, babe."

"I'm just glad to have you to myself now. I know you can make it up. I'm excited for what you have in store but please, never let that happen again, this was scary as hell." You finally dug into your pasta having not eaten much since practice.

And Alex did indeed make it up to you, in all the right ways.

[mhdiaries]

Journal of Clawd Wolf

If you can’t be honorable then be smart and keep your snout out of my journal.

September the 18th

I don’t think I’ve ever been hit in a game as hard as I got hit last night and oh monster was I sore this morning. We won the game which makes the pain a little more bearable. The worst part was I saw the hit coming and had to stand there and take it. The play was 13 Weak Bootleg Goblin - I made a perfect fake and rolled right which fooled everybody on the defense except the ogre playing outside linebacker who hit me as soon as the pass left my hand. Not only did he hit me, he drove me into the turf and landed on top of me. The only thing worse than the hit was the ogre stink that came with it. When I say stink I mean he smelled like the inside of a rubber boot filed with stinky cheese and raw fish that had been left in the trunk of a black car during the hottest week of summer. I’m sure I probably notice it more being a werewolf because of my enhanced sense of smell but I honestly think ogres must turn up their scent glands for games. I couldn’t even see how the play turned out because he’s laying on top of me yelling “How’d you like that wolf boy?” Then I hear the crowd going crazy and I just said, “Scoreboard.” Funny how the pain goes away, at least momentarily, when you complete a big play. Of course on the field you never want to let another monster know they hurt you... just like real life.

September the 21st

Rockseena chewed up a pair of Clawdeen’s shoes. Clawdeen accused Howleen, in Clawdeen’s defense it did kind of look like Howleen’s work, and I had to break up the fight and fork over some cash so Clawdeen could replace them. There goes my money for the month. Why are girl’s shoes so howling expensive?

October the 1st

I went to the furmatologist to see if he could do something about my shedding problem, which seems to be getting worse lately. It’s so screeching embarrassing I don’t even want to wear short sleeve shirts any more. Of course being a werewolf means it grows back as fast as it falls out so I’ve got an endless supply. I’m like a hairy snow globe. Anyway, I wish I could say that I walked away with a solution, cream, pill or heroic quest that would allow me to finally leave the house without a lint brush but that didn’t happen. The doctor said that some werewolves are genetically afflicted with this and that there is no cure. He gave me some ideas on how to manage the condition and a pamphlet about a support group. I was like, “A support group?” Come on monster, give me a break. The last thing i want to do is spend an evening hanging out in some back room at a community center listening to other werewolves howl about fur loss. I’ve just got to monster up and deal with it. What i wouldn’t give to switch problems with Clawdeen.

October the 7th

Somebody at Monster High is trying to reopen old tombs regarding Cleo’s past relationship with me and by “some body” I mean Spectra Vondergeist. I probably should have ignored it but I didn’t. I found her and told her to knock it off since she didn’t know what she was talking about, she called me a dumb jock, I called her a lying phantom and she wailed a path across the school pretesting her innocence and demanding an apology. We both ended up in the Headmistress’s office where I was lectured about the “responsibility of being an example to younger monsters who look up to me.” She told Spectra to stop involving the whole school whenever she has a problem and that almost caused her to go off again but she managed to keep it together.  I know every monster wants to know what happened but it’s really none of their business.

October the 12th

HH Bloodgood has decided that every monster in school has to write an essay on our haunted heritage. She wants to put them all in a big book and pass it out to the students at the end of the year. In her words this will “better help you to understand yourselves and your fellow monsters.” I’m not so sure about the “understand yourselves” part but it might be interesting to read about my “fellow monsters.” I need to ask dad and mom how much information I’m allowed to give since there are some things we don’t talk about outside the pack. Our history is written in the Valde Lupus Libri and even within the book there are sections I’m not allowed to read until I have a pack of my own. One of those sections tells what happened to cause the bad blood between werewolves and vampires. I asked dad about it one time and he just gave me “the look” so I let it go. I can probably write about the things every monster already knows; like how during the full moon our senses get sharper while our strength and speed doubles or how we’re allergic to sive and wolf’s bane. We’re not undead so we don’t live forever, but 400+ years isn’t just a drop in the coffin either. I guess I could also put down where we’re from and how our original alpha became a werewolf but I definitely need to get permission before giving out that kind of info.

October the 18th

The stink from my confrontation with Spectra continues to linger and today I had to stop Clawdeen from going after Cleo because Clawdeen still thinks Cleo dumped me for Deuce and broke my heart. That’s not how it happened so I told Clawdeen the real story. When Cleo and I first started going out I had just been voted captain of the football team and Cleo had taken over her sister Nefera’s spot as captain of the fear squad. I was the BMOC - Big Monster on Campus and she was Her Royal Hawtness. It was like living the perfect nightmare. Even then I think we were enjoying the attention more than the relationship. We were friends, still are in fact, but the spark just wasn’t there. There was a spark between her and Deuce though. You couldn’t help but see it when they were around each other. I confess I was a little jealous but I soon got over that as our perfect nightmare suddenly came to an end. My wake up call came in the form of a season where we lost every game but one and I completed more passes to the other team than I did to my own. For Cleo, it was thinking she could just pick up her sister’s pom poms and not miss a fear except she was so bossy half the team quit and the half that stayed just did their own thing. We probably would have broken up then but the thought of adding any more drama to what was already going on was too much to think about. So we stayed together and kind of leaned on each other through it all. Eventually I started to make better decisions on the field and Cleo learned that leadership involved more than barking orders. So on the night before the last game of the year we decided to break up. Cleo told me that she knew Deuce wanted to ask her out but didn’t dare because she was still dating me and that she wouldn’t say yes for the same reason. That was that, except Cleo wanted to be able to tell everyone she broke it off because she didn’t want anyone thinking that the captain of the fear squad got dumped. I told her I wouldn’t lie about what happened but I wouldn’t say anything to contradict it either. Looking back I think it was dumb on her part to care so much about social status and it was equally dumb on my part to be “heroic” about it. When I finished, Clawdeen called me a monster jerk, punched me in the arm and then gave me a hug. Girls are so weird.

October the 25th

I’ve got a pretty big test in Biteology coming soon and since it’s impossible to find a quiet spot in our house I went to the library to study. I finished up there and just as I was leaving a storm blew in and it started raining. The temperature came down with the rain and by the time I got to my car I could already see my breath. On the way home my sweet fang started to howl so I stopped at this coffee place and grabbed a large coffinccino with whip cream cause, you know, that’s what I like. I got about a half mile down the road when I couldn’t find my iCoffin so I pulled over to see if it had fallen in between the seats. As I was looking for it I happened to glance across the street and saw this freaky cute monster standing on the sidewalk. It was raining pretty hard by then and I couldn’t quite make out her face. I rolled down the window just as the wind changed direction and for a brief moment I caught the scent of nightshade and lilac shampoo. Draculaura? I got out and yelled her name. She looked up and I said to myself, “Oh monster, what’s she doing out in this weather without a coat or umbrella?” Good thing dad always keeps one of his “eventuality” kits in his car with everything a monster might need in an emergency, including one of those compact umbrellas. I grabbed it and ran across the street where Draculaura was standing. Ordinarily I would have cracked some kind of joke but she looked so miserable I just opened the umbrella and helped her back to the car. Once we got in I handed her the coffinccino and turned up the heater. We sat there for a moment with the car running and I asked her if she wanted me to take her home. She nodded and I drove her back to her house. They don’t have a covered drive so I walked her up to the door and made sure she got in. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and darted inside before I could say anything which is a good thing because it felt like I’d been hit by that ogre again only all I could smell this time was nightshade and lilacs. After I got home mom asked me where I’d been. When I told her the library she just looked at me and said, “If you say so.” I thought that was weird until I caught my reflection in the hall mirror and saw a perfect imprint of lips in Draculaura red.

[snezfics-n-shit]

Whumptober Day 31: Halloween

Fandom: Ace Attorney 

Characters: [2001 Half] Gregory Edgeworth, Raymond Shields / [2021 Half] Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, Trucy Wright

Notes: Two Halloweens, Two Defense Attorneys, Two Decades Apart. Last day so we’re going to town. Two whumps for the price of one! In the first half, you’ll find some Gregory content. For the second, you’ll see everyone’s favorite disbarred hobo dad. It really is Real DILF Hours this fine Halloween.

                                                   --October 31, 2001--

“Thank you again, Mrs. Wright. You kids have fun!” Gregory watched the group of trick-or-treaters go on their way. It felt almost like a dream to know his son was in that group, trick-or-treating with real friends. For past Halloweens, Gregory and Miles would stay in and read something together until deciding to watch It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown together before usually falling asleep on the couch. While he was more than proud of his son making friends, Gregory felt a little sad when his son told him he would be out. 

It was only when Gregory woke up the morning before with a persistent tickle in his throat that he was actually grateful to be the only one at home for the holiday, for at least a few hours. For a moment, he assumed it was simply the doing of Fall allergies, and perhaps some of it was, but the steadily rising feeling of malaise started to tip him off. By the time he was seeing his son off with his group of friends, he was more than ready to turn in for the night at 6:30PM.

Gregory closed the door slowly so he could triple check that the group was traveling safely. Despite having kept a close eye out on his surroundings, he failed to notice a familiar face approaching his home. He thought he could easily resign himself to some cold medicine and an early night until he heard the turning of a doorknob. 

“Miles? Is that you?” He called as far as his hoarse voice could reach.

“No, it’s me, Mr. Edgeworth!” Ray twirled a keychain around and bit into a chocolate bar. “You gave me your spare key, remember? When I helped you bring in that big bag of dog food? Or was it when you had shingles? I forget.”

“Neither.” Gregory shook his head. “I gave you the spare key that time you watched Miles when I had that date.”

“O-Oh, right. How did that go, by the way?”

“Not great. The movie was awful and she demanded a refund after it was over. I don’t think I’ll be going out with anyone on the PTA again.” Gregory coughed a few times in his elbow before noticing what Ray was eating. “Where did you get that?”

“From your candy bowl.” 

“Did you take just one like the sign said?”

Ray shrugged as he pulled about four more chocolate bars from his coat pockets. 

“You should really be handing out the candy to prevent this kind of miscommunication.”

“I’m coming down with a cold, so I think I’ll pass.” Gregory took Ray’s coat to hang on the coat rack, if only to prevent more candy smuggling. “I’m surprised you’re not trick-or-treating.”

“I wanted to spend time with you, Mr. Edgeworth. You said you’ll be staying inside alone this year.” Ray helped himself to the living room couch, pleased to greet the pomeranian lounging there. “Hey, Missile!” He made kissing faces at the pup. “I guess not too alone.”

“Don’t let him lick your face while you have chocolate all over.” Gregory called the dog over to him. “You can rinse your face in the bathroom, and could you bring me the cold medicine from the cabinet?”

“Of course, Mr. Edgeworth!”

“Thank you.” Gregory stole Ray’s spot on the couch and let Missile hop on his lap. Just sitting down was more rest than Gregory had let himself have all day. He looked up to watch Ray return from the bathroom, somehow having gotten his hands on a lollipop.

“How come you’re not using Coldkiller X?” Ray tossed the requested medicine into Gregory’s lap. “It’s been flying off the shelves since it came out; it’s a real hit.” 

“I prefer my usual NyQuil. I’d rather sleep through my colds.”

“You do look like you could use some sleep, Mr. Edgeworth.” Ray wiggled the lollipop stick around in his mouth. “Also, I think it’s really cool you put candy all around your house for Halloween.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory furrowed his brow. 

“These lollipops in your bathroom.” He pulled out the stick to reveal a purple teddy bear pop. “It kinda makes my mouth feel funny, though. I think I’m allergic to something in it.”

“Raymond, that’s--,” Gregory sighed and put his head in his hands, “medicated. It has an anesthetic in it.”

“Oh, huh.” Ray stared at the lollipop before offering it to Gregory. “Do you want it?”

“No, thank you.” Gregory found the offer to be both amusing and repulsive. “I think I’ll be fine just having some tea.” He ushered Missile to direct some affection towards Ray so he could stand up. “Do you want any?”

“Just water is fine.” Ray rubbed his tongue against his front teeth. “I don’t think anything else would taste good right now.”

“At least that means you won’t be stealing any more candy.” Gregory chuckled as he proceeded to start the stove under the kettle. “I also shouldn’t have to tell you that you shouldn’t be eating things from a medicine cabinet.” 

“Got it. ‘Don’t eat candy from the medicine cabinet.’” Ray read aloud from his notepad before eating the page he just wrote on. 

“I feel like I should be concerned that you needed to write that down.” To say nothing of Ray’s paper eating habit, which Gregory stopped questioning after six months into Ray working part-time at the firm. He wanted to say Ray had matured since he had hired him, but it was likely more familiarity with his antics than anything. “Do you want any ice in your water?” Gregory opened the refrigerator door and leaned forward, reaching for the pitcher of water.

“No, that’s fine.” Ray answered, not looking away from Missile, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I’d like to think I am.” Gregory laughed before standing upright again. Having his head at any angle outside of a very specific range when he had a cold always gave him a head-rush. “AE’SSHHOOUH! Eh’KXNT...chooh” He stifled the second one so Ray wouldn’t say anything about trying to scare him. With it being Halloween, the potential for comments like that was abundant.

“Bless you, Mr. Edgeworth.” In truth, Ray was hardly paying enough attention to really say anything; he was too busy scratching behind Missile’s ears. “You’re such a cool dad, keeping this cutie.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘cool’ before, at least not sincerely.” Gregory tugged a tissue from the box on the kitchen counter and gently held it under his nose. 

“R-Really? Not even about all your Star Wars stuff?”

“That stuff is exactly--,” Gregory used the tissue to muffle some coughs, “exactly what made me not cool. I only had one friend in high school, and that was Miles’s mother.” He always felt some pain in his chest bringing her up, but he was too caught up in the memory to stop himself. “She was homeschooled before she transferred, so she didn’t really care if I was ‘cool’ or not.” He dropped the tissue into the trash bin before he opened a cupboard and grabbed two plain blue mugs. Cold water in a mug wasn’t a faux pas, was it?

“Are you feverish enough to finally tell me about her?” 

“This cold’s only just started, so no.” Gregory shut off the stove once he saw the steam leaving the kettle. As nice as it would be to have savored that, he didn’t want to keep Ray waiting for his water. “But I guess I can’t avoid talking about Marie forever.” He coated his own mug’s base with honey before topping it with a tea bag. He had no idea exactly what kind of tea it was; he only bought the types his son wrote on the grocery list in skillful handwriting absolutely not inherited from Gregory.

Naturally, when Gregory returned to the living room with both beverages, Ray had reclaimed the seat he had rightfully stolen.  He set Ray’s drink on the coffee table in front of the sofa before finding himself a new seat next to him.

“So, what was she like?” Ray took a long sip of his water, hoping to wash out the anesthetic. 

“Well, for starters, she was my best friend for over ten years.” Gregory moved the tea bag up and down by the string. “She transferred to my high school just after her parents separated. She moved with her dad all the way from the middle of nowhere, so we were both in the same ‘no friends’ boat.”

“Did you two realize the one you loved was right in front of you? Like in a movie?”

“Ah,” Gregory didn’t look up from his mug, “just one of us did. She didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“B-But you guys had a kid together! There had to be something there.” Ray’s jaw dropped when he saw Gregory shake his head. 

“I only realized I loved her after we, uh,” Gregory coughed awkwardly, “you know. I told her and that just ruined everything we had. The last time I saw her before she died was the day she dropped off Miles.”

“Oh, huh.” Ray felt himself tearing up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that much of a tearjerker, I promise. I have a son I couldn’t be more proud of. I wouldn’t trade him for the world, even if it meant having Marie in my life for a few extra years.”

“Wha?’ Ray wiped some tears from his eyes. “I’m not that sad. I just, uh, lost an eyelash. Let me find it so I can make a wish.” He grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table to pretend he was searching for that ‘eyelash.’

“Hey, it’s definitely not the time to waste those.” Gregory scolded in jest before taking his own tissue for actual use. “E’kXTT… chuh.” That particular stifle made his head pound.

“It’s Halloween, Mr. Edgeworth. It’s okay if you startle me.” Of course. Why did Gregory think he could get away so easily? “I don’t know how you can hold those in. It was pretty impressive when you did ten of those last month.”

“I wasd’t about to let you bake jokes for the rest of your shift.” Gregory blew his nose forcefully, displeased at the amount of time it took to really feel any benefit. 

“To think I just called you cool.” Ray teased. “I still think you’re cool, though. You made your son’s costume, didn’t you? Signal Red?”

“Indeed I did.” Gregory nodded. He figured his drink had cooled enough to chase down the cold medicine Ray retrieved earlier. “I stayed up all night making it.” He cleared his throat and made a face in reaction to the unfavorable taste of the medicated liquid. “Two nights, actually.”

“No wonder you’re sick. You work too hard and never sleep.” So was that why Ray seemed immune to colds? 

“Once this kicks in, I’ll be sleeping like the dead.” Gregory leaned back. “You can watch TV if you want. Take the remote or a VHS.”

“Woah, really?” Ray made himself at home in front of the VHS shelves with Missile following behind him. “You wanna help me pick out a movie, boy?”

“Just not any movies about a dog. Otherwise, he’ll bark at the screen.”

“Aw, that’s cute! Let’s watch Air Bud, then.”

Thank god for NyQuil.

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

                                                    --October 31, 2021--

      Phoenix was woken up by the sound of footsteps on the entryway’s tile floor accompanied by the excited listing of various candies. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to take a look at the wall clock. 9:30PM. Miles and Trucy returned an hour late, but it sounded like they had a good time.

“Daddy! We got so much candy! Are you feeling better? Papa Miles said you should eat something healthy, but I won’t tell!” It was as if Trucy didn’t even need to stop to breathe while speaking. 

“Trucy, your father needs to rest.” Miles, who had at least stopped to leave his coat on the rack, needed to catch his breath. “Sorry to wake you, love. I hope you got some sleep since we left.”

“I slept great, yeah. Did you two have a good tibe?” Phoenix looked up at Miles with glassy eyes and a tired smile. 

“We had a wonderful time, but we missed you. It’s a shame you were too sick to come with us.” Miles glanced at the empty bowl and mug on the coffee table. “So you finally ate something?”

“Does that mean Daddy can have some of our candy now?” Trucy lifted her heavy pumpkin shaped basket. “He ate something healthy!”

“Not tonight, I don’t think. Why don’t you change into your pajamas and get ready for bed?” Miles pointed at his watch. “We already came home late.”

“Aw, okay.” Trucy pouted and dragged her feet walking to her bedroom.

Phoenix watched her leave and then frowned at Miles.

“What’s that look for?” 

“You’re doh fud.” Phoenix sniffled. 

“You were the one who wanted me to be more authoritative with her.” Miles was right; every time Trucy wanted something, she would go straight to him if she thought Phoenix would say no. Phoenix found it funny at first, but it got out of hand when Miles rented some ponies for Trucy’s previous birthday, ponies that needed to be cleaned up after. “It’s a school night.”

“I dod’t thigk she’d be up too late just shari’g a couple chocolates.” Phoenix reasoned. The couch made a squeak as he turned on his side.

“Do you think you could even taste them with you being that congested?” Miles peered into the tissue box on the coffee table, finding it empty. He wasn’t pleased to hear Phoenix blowing his nose into a tissue he had definitely used before. 

“Aa’SCHOOUuh! HT’TCHUUUh! Ah, dabbit.” Phoenix cursed at his effort to clear his nose being undone so quickly. “I guess I should just go to sleep.”

“That’s a good idea.” Miles kissed Phoenix’s warm cheek. “Are you coming to bed or staying on the couch for the night?”

“It’s probably a better idea to sleep here.” Phoenix blew his nose again in the crumpled tissue that left the skin it touched sore and red. “You have a trial this week, right? I don’t want you to get sick.” 

“I’ve already accepted that as inevitable.” Miles picked up the living room waste basket to dispose of the tissues that had accumulated on the couch while he was out. “Though I can’t blame you for staying here if you intend on sleeping under more used tissues.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been out since about an hour after you and Trucy left for trick-or-treating.”

Miles winced as he pictured just how many times his boyfriend had reused tissues while he was gone. No wonder his nose was so red Miles could think of a few costumes it would enhance. 

“I’ll take another box from the hall closet for you. Do you want something to drink? I could heat up some apple cider so you can feel festive.”

“That would be great.” 

Miles gave Phoenix another light kiss before heading to the kitchen. He took mental notes of what counters would need cleaning in the morning, particularly where it was undeniable that Phoenix tried refilling his own tea but was too out of it to keep the mug steady. As much as Miles wanted to spend the rest of the night personalizing Phoenix’s cider, it was getting late and Phoenix had no objections to just heating a mug in the microwave. 

While the microwave was doing its job, Miles made a trip to the hall closet to deliver a fresh tissue box to Phoenix. 

“I hope this lasts until morning.” Miles tore off the cardboard covering the opening. “Maybe you could take something so you can sleep easier and use less of these?”

“Yes, please.” Phoenix coughed with his fist pressing against his mouth.

The microwave beeped just as Miles went to retrieve the mug. On his way back, he made a stop at the bathroom to pick up a pack of NyQuil capsules. He blew lightly over the steaming mug to cool it off a little before he brought the drink and medicine to his boyfriend. 

“Here you go, love. Let me know if it’s too hot or not hot enough.”

Phoenix popped out two capsules and washed them down with a large drink of cider. It burned his throat a little, making him tear up, but at least that part was done and over with. It was better than taking the medicine as a liquid, that was for sure.

“Thanks so much, hon. I can’t wait to get some sleep.”

“I’m looking forward to you getting some sleep as well.” Miles picked up the empty bowl and mug from the coffee table so there was only the mug of cider to worry about. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night.”

Miles washed the dishes thoroughly but quickly enough for him to turn in at a reasonable time. He kept silent as he stopped to watch Phoenix finding a comfortable position to sleep in and stayed still for a while in case Phoenix needed anything. 

With a quiet yawn, Miles began his trip through the hall, only to stop suddenly with a hitch of his breath.

“Hh’sshhooh!” He sniffed. “Oh, of course.”

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

hi, so i see that you ship bethyl, and while i see them more of a big brother-sibling relationship, if the show had explored that type of sibling relationship, would it have been satisfactory for you? or would you just have them be together? i always wondered that about bethyl shippers

Hello! This is an interesting question, and I appreciate hearing from the other side of the equation. In regards to your ask, I am speaking for myself, though I wouldn’t be surprised if other Bethylers shared my sentiments.

With how season 5 went, I would happily take any additional Bethyl interactions I could get, though it would ultimately be unsatisfying because everything about the show in seasons 4 and 5 had communicated that Beth and Daryl were being set-up romantically.

I don’t have the time to go into every connotation of romance incorporated into Bethyl, so I will give a brief summary.

In terms of the show, there’s Daryl Dixon quipping, “It’s like a damn romance novel,” when looking at Beth and her boyfriend in the season four premiere. That kind of line screams foreshadowing. The sexual imagery in Still like the phallic knife and snakeskin. The romantic tropes plastered over Still and Alone; like the intimate conversations at night, the bridal carry, all the candlelight at the dinner table. The halted confession of love that had been punctuated with a gentle ‘Oh’. Because how else are we supposed to interpret that scene? I’ve read posts from people who didn’t even want Bethyl who saw it as romantic. Daryl wore Beth’s knife like a token of love for more than a season, and though it disappeared from his person, in 2018 Norman confirmed that Daryl still had it.

There was also the romantic music. Norman Reedus listened to ‘Very Nervous and Love’ while filming Still and had even pitched it as the closing episode song. For Alone, TPTB originally intended to use King of Carrot Flowers (presumably pt. 1) but couldn’t because of licensing issues. KoCF pt. 1 has the lyrics, “And this is the room/One afternoon I knew I could love you,” which summarizes Alone pretty well. (Alone’s other two storylines focused on romantic arcs, so it doesn’t make sense for Bethyl’s to be a random platonic pairing.) Emily ended up singing ‘Be Good’, a song about the fear of ruining a friendship after feelings mutually develop. Later Emily Kinney wrote a song called ‘Last Chance’, which she confirmed was from Beth’s POV. The lyrics describe Still in terms of romance and sexuality.

In addition, most of the show people who have talked about Bethyl talked about it positively and in romantic terms. (Example quotes posted below the cut.) The two links below include my sources and other romantic connotations I didn’t mention.

https://bethgreeneishopeunseen.tumblr.com/tagged/bethyl-is-more-canon-than-romeo-and-juliet

https://bethgreeneishopeunseen.tumblr.com/post/174242960046/bethyl-interview-masterpost

“I think it’s constantly changing, you know. Just like our relationships with each other. You know, I think the more she’s getting to know him, it kind of shifts. So I think that there’s been moments where she saw him just as a protector, and moments where she’s seen him as a team member and moments where she’s seen him almost like, maybe like a brotherly sort of friend kind of thing. And then probably moments too, where she’s been like, ‘Oh, maybe there’s something extra here. Something special’. So I think it’s the whole range of how she views him. I think, like, we’re still exploring that. […] He better find me! He better not forget about me!”

“So in this last episode, you were asking Daryl ‘how do you know there’s— you still think there’s good people out there? Why?’ And then you had a realization. Was it that he knew because of Beth? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think she realized how much he cares about her.

“I don’t know, my theory is— I definitely think Beth was having a ro— felt romantically inclined towards Daryl. That’s the way it came across to me, at least.”

Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think there’s realizing that there’s something else there.”

Emily Kinney: WSC Chicago; March 14th, 2014 (x) (x) (x).

-

“As the episode progressed, he saw something in her that was sort of like a little candlelight at the end of a dark tunnel. And she was saying that there are good people left, there are reasons to go on, and don’t give up hope. And I think she was that little glimmer of hope for him. And I think that’s what he was attracted. If he misconstrued those feelings as a possibly like a crush, but that’s even better. But I don’t think he went in there like, “Hey me and you.” I think he kind of like, “There’s something good in you, and I haven’t seen anything good in forever. It’s like being lost in the woods for miles and miles and starving and finding an apple tree with an apple. There’s something good out there and maybe that’s you. And maybe you could show me whatever you know and you can make Daryl have those hopeful feelings too. And I think some people might have interpreted as he thinks you’re cute or he wants to be with you. But I think it’s deeper than that.”

Norman Reedus: GoldDerby; June 12th, 2014 (x) (x) (x).

In the full interview, Bethyl comes up at 6:40. Full transcript here (x).

-

“When they pitched Season 4, they were talking about when the prison goes down and having Daryl and Beth be bunkered together. And it’s interesting because I get to see all the cuts and I see all the edits from the director’s cuts onward. And I loved the scene in the kitchen when they’re talking, and I got the sense that Daryl was starting to kind of fall in love with Beth a little.”

Greg Nicotero; SDCC July 2014 Panel/Interviews-

“It’s a gradual change [Daryl’s arc]. It’s a progression; his relationship with Beth, too. They’re always doing this sort of like chocolate thing: ‘Here, here, it’s delicious. Oh, psych!’ and they take it away…. These characters get harder as it goes on. They have more experience with loss and grief. Everyone’s in fifth gear right now…. You know, Beth was kind like this little flame at the end of a long dark tunnel, and he was getting closer and closer, and it was getting warmer, and then someone blew it out. You know, they took my chocolate again….The whole Daryl and his thing for Beth…I always saw it as if he didn’t understand those feelings. He might have felt them, but he was sorta hopeful; that with those feelings there might have been hope there. Down the line. And it was taken from him. Same as with his brother…taken. Found his family in the prison…taken. I mean, over and over and over again. That happens to all of us.”

Norman Reedus: Horrorhound; (Sept/Oct 2014) p. 8 (x) (x).

-

“Last year, I definitely felt like there was a really special connection between Daryl and Beth that happened. My take on it was that there was a very deep growing connection that could become something more romantic or could become just … you know that was my personal understanding of it. I do feel like Beth has opened up to Daryl in a way that she hasn’t with other people and I do feel like Beth has never been really in love even though you’ve seen her with the two different boyfriends. I don’t think she’s ever been like, ‘grownup in love’ in the way that you feel like someone actually understands you and in sort of that special intimate way. And I do feel like she’s been closer to that with Daryl then with anyone else.”

Emily Kinney: Business Insider; October 9th, 2014 (x).

-

“Kinney says that the song they were originally going to use in the scene was Neutral Milk Hotel’s “King of Carrot Flowers, but the band wasn’t interested in licensing their music. Something Kinney understands. “If you make something, you’re very precious with it,” she says. “I would love to cover that song on my own.” For now, she’s performing “Be Good” in her sets, along with another song Beth has sung on the show, Tom Waits‘ “Hold On.””

Emily Kinney: Radio.com; October 10th, 2014 (x) (x).

“And this is the room, one afternoon I knew I could love you.”

-

“Q: Do you think Beth was fortunate to be kidnapped and ended up in a hospital rather than go to Terminus? Emily: Terminus was awful […] Although she would be with her family and that’s worth a lot, isn’t it? She’d be with Daryl… and her sister.”

Emily Kinney: 5x04′s Talking Dead; November 2nd, 2014 (x).

Norman Reedus: AMA; December 21st, 2014 (x).

-

“That was just devastating, he chased that car all night long until it was daylight and he just couldn’t move anymore.”

“Daryl’s in such… a dark… state of mind, because of he lost Beth.”

Norman Reedus: The Journey so Far; October 2nd, 2016 (x) (x) (x)

-

[stuck-in-hawkins]

October 28th, 1993- Reunion

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Pairing: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656785/chapters/60958708

Will felt completely exposed. He just stood there breathless, staring, with his heart pounding a mile a minute.

Mike stood up from the couch, with that big beautiful smile. Before Will could pick his jaw off the floor, Mike was over to him in a few strides and had wrapped his long arms around him in a hug. Will was trying to process it all, but thoughts, sensations, and memories were crashing like waves against the shore and he could barely keep up.

His senses taking in all the familiar and new with Mike. How there seemed to be a place that Will just instinctively locked into in the embrace. The secure pressure of his arms wrapped around, the scent of some new cologne or deodorant that combined with the familiar smell of Mike that he could never quite pinpoint. There was the feeling of being small in his arms, and an onslaught of memories that beckoned. Will knew he’d lose himself in them if he dwelled but there would be time for that later. It just felt so good to be held by Mike again.

“Hey, Will.”

Will’s mind commanded, ‘Say something!’ He needed to recover so that he didn’t look like some lovesick puppy. But he was still taking everything in. He had only seen Mike a handful of times since leaving for college. He wasn’t used to how wide his shoulders were or how soft he’d gotten. Since 7th grade, Mike had been a beanpole, tall, bony. But now, all his edges were softened. He even had a bit of a belly. Will’s arms wrapped around Mike and felt… hair? Mike had a ponytail.

“Hey, hippie.” He pulled back from the hug. There were curls in the front of his face that were still too short to reach but it was plain as day: he had a ponytail. Will chuckled, “Since when did you decide to do a ponytail?”

“Since the last time the barber hacked off my hair.”

Will laughed, “You mean that buzz cut? That was two years ago!”

“Yep.” He took the hair in hand and flopped it so that it rested on his shoulder. It was a little past his shoulder. “This stuff grows like weeds.”

“Well, I’m still betting you’ll be the first to go bald.”

Mike held his hands up. “Don’t curse me like that, Will.”

“Sorry, but only models can have hair this perfect without paying for it later.” He hadn’t meant to, but he touched Mike’s hair as he said it. This would have been fine if he had just played it off. But, when he realized where his hand was, he drew it back so hard he hit himself in the chest.

Will thought, ‘Oh dear, God. Could you be any more obvious, Will Byers?’

And there it was, beneath the familiarity and laughter of friends, all the intimacy that had come during that time. The memory of being someone else’s other half was still ingrained in his every motion. The pathways in his brain had been carved out with each touch and a wall had come down. It could only be held up with conscious effort.

The motion was not lost on Mike and there was a recognition that crossed his face. But Mike smiled. Was it sympathetic, guilty, or just awkward? Will couldn’t tell. He mentally scolded his cheeks, trying to forbid them from blushing. But he could feel the heat rising. He hated being such an open book.

Mike broke the silence, “You always work on Sundays? Busy life on the prop scene?”

Will felt instant relief. Work was a safe topic. “It has peaks and troughs. Right now, I’m working on a bit of a passion project, making a monster.”

“Wait! Holy shit, like for a movie? What one??”

“It’s not for a movie, per say. It’s more like a talent scouting thing.”

Dustin interjected, “He couldn’t tell us, even if it was for one.”

Mike turned, “So you don’t badger him for info, then. Right, Dustin?”

“Uhh. Do you even know me, Mike? Of course, I do! He’s got to crack at some point.”

Will watched the way Mike’s eyes crinkled with those familiar laugh lines. And without even trying, Mike had made Will fall for him all over again. A part of him wanted to fight it, to just be happy with being friends. He wanted to save himself from the hurt that would follow. But this love was a familiar and warm embrace. It woke him up from the pain of that morning’s rejection. It was hope.

Mike was here for the first time in years. He was within reach again. He was gorgeous and smiling. But why was he there? What brought him out to Burbank after so long?

“When did you get in?”

“I think my plane landed at… 3?”

Dustin added, “Yeah. About then.”

“Feeling any jet lag?”

“For that crazy three hour difference?” He laughed. “It’ll probably just feel like a long day. I’m hoping that I can power through until 10.”

“Sounds like a late night for you, old man.”

Mike smirked, playfully, “Listen, just because you are some cool Hollywood cat now,” he poked Will in the stomach. Today of all days, he was wearing his crop top. And the contact was direct, skin on skin, Mike’s fingertips in his stomach for the briefest of seconds. Will felt his heart leap inside him. Mike did a double take looking at his mid drift, which had clear muscle tone. “And apparently working out?” Mike was astounded.

Will flustered, waving his arms, “I’m not like a musclehead, or anything! It’s just a thing I do with my friends from work.”

Dustin leered, “Don’t listen to him, Mike. It’s ‘cause he’s single and trying to bring home a beefcake.”

Will’s head snapped to Dustin. He was getting redder by the minute, “What the fuck, Dustin? BEEFcake?”

“Listen, you can’t bring home gorgeous men and me not talk about it. Seriously, Mike, these guys are all 10’s.” He winked.

Will was staring daggers at him, “I am never making you breakfast again.”

“WAIT! No!” He stretched his arm out, “I’m sorry!! I take it back.”

“Too late. It’s Captain Crunch for you from now on.”

Dustin groaned, and flopped over the couch, defeated. Will’s eyes flicked over to Mike and saw him suddenly self-conscious.

Mike caught his gaze and said, somewhat sheepishly, “I can’t say I’m really surprised, though. You're a catch, Will.” There was a sadness in it. As if Will was out of reach. As if he had been the one that got away.

The sincerity of it left Will speechless. Was he misinterpreting it? He wanted to let him know that the door hadn’t closed, but he didn’t want to be wrong and make things awkward. He’d clear the air later, when Dustin wasn’t there to watch. He couldn’t look at Mike’s face now.

He tugged the longer side of his hair behind his ear. A useless and nervous gesture, as the hair went right back in his face. “It’s not- I’m not-” He stopped himself. Take the compliment, he told himself. “Umm… thanks.”

Will saw Dustin smirking. Was he trying to play cupid? Will was going to chew him out the second he was alone. This was not something to play with.

Will desperately wanted to change the subject, “So, how are we going to show him the best California has to offer?”

“How about Gauman’s?”

Will shrugged, “Sounds good. What do you think, Mike?”

“That’s the place the Oscar’s are filmed at, right?” Mike asked.

“The very same. But, when there’s no Oscars or premiers it’s just a regular theater,” said Dustin.

Mike nodded. “Sounds awesome.” Will smiled seeing the childlike excitement on Mike’s face, the kind he used to get before a much anticipated movie or comic release. Will felt flutters and wondered if he would be coming down off of cloud nine anytime soon.

“Cool,” Will said. “I’ll go get dressed.” He needed to sort out everything going on inside his head.

Mike looked down at his own clothes, “Do we need to dress fancy or something?”

“Well, not exactly. You’re fine. But cut offs aren’t exactly something I wanna wear there.” He gestured at his own clothes.

Mike’s eyes flicked down and immediately looked away, his face beat red. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Will blushed. Holy fuck. They were both absolute disasters right now. He walked down the hallway to his room and flopped on the bed. Breathe. Why had Mike gotten so flustered? Why had he looked down? He could feel his stomach flipping at the suggestion in the question.

He had to calm down. But everything inside him felt like an amusement park, spinning, and jumping. How in the hell was he supposed to keep himself together? He had to wait until Mike was alone. It would be better to get it all out, clear the air. But what in the hell was he even supposed to say?

‘Hi, Mike! Nice to see you, by the way, I’m still in love with you. Is this a mutual thing? Or should I have gotten over all this years ago?’

He put the pillow over his head and groaned. He could get through this. At the very least, they would be in a theater. It was a familiar space, where they could forget everything else and just be the Party again, picking apart movies. Unravelling cinematography, digging up meaning, and concocting theories and Will could collect himself.   ______________________________

They bought tickets for Return of the Living Dead 3. It was one of those gritty B rated movies that the party had always loved tearing to shreds. After they gave Mike the unofficial tour around the handprints, they went inside and paid for their tickets. They were making their way past the various displays of movie props and costumes encased in glass when Will’s eye caught sight of something. He turned so fast he nearly got whiplash and made his way over to the case. Inside, there was a set up for Halloween: a town of monsters, each with unique and incredible designs. The setting looked like an ink drawing come to life, complete with the texture of hatching lines on the ground. This parade of characters was led by a charming skeleton in a Santa suit and a girl that looked like a cross between a rag doll and Frankenstein. He read the plaque beside it: The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“Don’t drool on the case, Will.” Dustin teased.

Mike came over, “What is it?”

“These are the stop motion puppets from the movie,” Will answered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the figures.

“Oh, Stop motion! Like the special effects for the older Hollywood films?” Mike asked.

“Or like Rudolph,” Dustin added.

Will stared, “It’s like a cross between the two. It’s completely embracing the horror aspect of the medium and combining it with the whole Christmas movie tradition.” He couldn’t get over the character designs, the idea behind it. The premise intrigued him and he desperately wanted to watch it.

“Should we see that one instead?” Mike suggested.

Will turned, “No! No. I’ll definitely have to come back to watch it though.”

Dustin leaned in, “We have to go see that movie with him, Mike. He’s gonna totally flip shit the whole time.”

Mike crossed his arms like he was studying Will, “You think like Labyrinth level freak out?”

“Hard to say,” Dustin retorted.

Will shook his head, “Nothing will be Labyrinth level freak out. That was a once in a lifetime movie. A high fantasy setting with elaborate backdrops and the most insane special effects featuring David Bowie as the Goblin King, himself.”

Dustin smirked, “Not to mention those pants.”

Will stood up, “Why does everyone always bring up the pants?”

“Because it was an enlightening experience. I finally understood what you see in men. And now I know with certainty that if Bowie were to ever ask I’d- OW!”

Will punched Dustin’s arm. “You’re not gonna finish that statement.”

Mike chimed in, “You know better than to speak blasphemy against The Thin White Duke around Will.”

Dustin played it up, soothing his wounded arm. “Aw, come on, Will. I didn’t mean it, I know you get first dibs.”

“How kind.”

They laughed as they went into the theatre together.   _________________________________________________

It was a tradition of theirs that following a movie showing, they would stand around the lobby and dissect it. However, since the theatre was getting crowded, Will suggested they relocate to the nearby diner. They began picking it apart in the car, shouting over one another the most grotesque or ridiculous parts. Will had the edge in these conversations now, because he could usually determine what exactly they used for certain effects. The guys enjoyed hearing Will’s insight into the behind the scenes techniques. Once they got in the diner and got their seats, the conversation quieted a bit and their ruminations became more well thought out. They cited different camera angles, acting, and plot points. It felt like old times.

After they ordered their food, Will asked, “So, Mike, how long are you in town for?”

“I’m staying for the week.”

Will almost dropped the fork he’d been messing with, “The whole week?!”

“Yeah, I have some vacation time that the boss told me I needed to use before December.”

“You didn’t want to save that for Christmas vacation?”

“Nah. A lot of families take that time off. School, you know?”

“That’s cool of you.”

Mike shrugged, “It’s just the decent thing, you know? El doesn’t really care about the holidays too much so I can be flexible.”

And a cloud swept over Mike’s face. Something he hadn’t wanted to bring up. Someone he didn’t want to mention. And Will could see him brace for the question.

Dustin asked, “How-?” He felt clumsy. “How is she doing?”

“She’s okay. She has her good days and her bad. I told you she lives with me now, right?”

Dustin nodded.

“That day I got my hair buzzed? Bad day.” He laughed it off, “I don’t think she recognized me for two weeks. The worst part? I actually bought a wig.”

Dustin nearly spit out his drink, “You what?”

Will laughed. “You didn’t!”

“Oh yeah. My first toupee. Looked like a fucking mop.”

Will joked, “Oh, please tell me you still have it. I’d pay money to see that.”

“No way. It’s haunting some thrift store now.”

Will shivered. “The worst thing to find there.”

Mike chuckled. He asked, “So, when is Lucas getting here?”

Will perked up, “What??”

Dustin suddenly looked awkward.

Mike turned, “Shit. Was that supposed to be a surprise? I thought he already knew.”

“No, it’s okay. Recover it! Surprise, Will!! Lucas will be here tomorrow!”

The smile on Will’s face could have lit up the city. He couldn’t contain his joy. His friends would be back together for the first time in so long. He didn’t see the way Mike was looking at him, the content smile and the eyes that just couldn’t get enough of Will’s warm glow.

Dustin was beaming, “Max will be picking him up and they’ll be staying at a hotel nearby.”

Will couldn’t believe it. “Dustin, did you put this all together?”

His friend got a little bashful and tried to shrug it off. “I mean… I just made a few calls. Lucas told me he’d be home in time for Halloween and I thought it was the perfect opportunity for a reunion.”

And then, something sank inside Will. Halloween. It had been ten years... Was that why Dustin was doing this? He coached himself, ‘Stop. Stop. Stop. Just enjoy this.’

He smiled. “It’ll be so good to see them again.”

The change wasn’t immediately visible to the guys.

Mike suddenly got excited, “Are we going to have a Halloween party or something to celebrate?”

Dustin answered giddy, “Oh, hell yeah! I mean we have the monster maker himself here!” He clapped Will on the back.

It shook Will out of his head. He saw how excited they were. Maybe this whole thing was orchestrated out of concern for Will, the thought of it stung his pride a bit. But then again, maybe it was the only way to get everyone together. The last time they had all been together had been when Hopper found El… She had been broken, disoriented, and wandering around New York City. The reunion had been one of grieving, trying to heal, and being there for Mike.

That was what going their separate ways had meant- only seeing each other for the big things: weddings and funerals so to speak. So, Will watched Mike and Dustin talking animatedly and let himself get caught up in it, too.

“As much as I’d like to bring the studio stuff home, I don’t think I could get it past Anderson. They get extra uptight at the shop with props and stuff around Halloween. Everyone wants to borrow stuff for their own parties. But I might be able to whip up something homemade.”

Dustin bragged to Mike, “It’s too bad you won’t get to see The Werehouse, Mike. It’s like a cinephile's wet dream. They have a full on werewolf! Fur and everything!”

Will asked, “Why wouldn’t he be able to go?”

“Because visitors are banned.”

“No, you are banned.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m banned’???”

“You were touching literally everything!”

“And that was enough to get me banned?”

“You gave Scottie such agita, I thought she was going to have an aneurysm. Do you not remember her following you around, asking you to put things down?”

Dustin grimaced, “I got a little caught up. It was a lot to take in.”

Mike asked, “So, does this mean I get to go?”

The idea of showing Mike his work space was elating to Will. There was that familiar feeling that Will had everytime he handed Mike his sketchbook or a new drawing. The hope of approval and praise for his art.

Will eagerly nodded, “Just don’t touch anything.”

Mike smirked at Dustin, who groaned, “That is SO not fair!”

“Sorry, Dustin.” Mike shrugged as he scooted out of the booth.

Dustin pouted, “Are you, though?”

“Well, not really that sorry.” He laughed, “I’ll be right back.” Mike excused himself to the bathroom.

Once he was out of earshot, Will looked over at Dustin.

He didn’t want to ruin the moment but he had to ask. “Is there a particular reason you got us all together?”

“Because Lucas is coming home.”

“He was home a year ago. We didn’t get together then.”

Dustin’s shoulders sank and he started fidgeting with his napkin. “You said it yourself. It’s been too long. It was an excuse for us to get together. And… well, it has been 10 years...”

“You say it like it’s some kind of anniversary.”

“I mean, it kind of is. You making it out of all that alive is something to celebrate.” Dustin said it genuinely, his heart in his words, “We watched what we thought was you, pulled from the quarry. We listened to you calling out for help. It affected all of us, Will.”

Will suddenly felt selfish. He’d seen this whole thing as some kind of elaborate pity party, but he hadn’t been the only one to suffer. He hadn’t been the only one to face that thing.

But a question still nagged at him, “Did you tell anyone… about the nightmares?”

Dustin tightened and looked guilty. “Just Mike… he….”

“Dustin you promised!”

“I know. I know. But I was worried, Will! I didn’t know what to do.”

“There is nothing for you to do. It’s something that I’m handling.”

His friend looked at him, anger tempered in his brow, “They’ve gotten worse. Don’t tell me they haven’t.”

Will’s fingers dug into his knees, his knuckles turning white. He felt humiliated. It was true. They had been getting worse. It wasn’t so bad when he had someone sleeping next to him, but on the nights he was alone? There was a 50/50 shot at waking up in a cold sweat. A few weeks ago, he had woken up with a yell in his throat and Dustin’s panicked face above him, trying to shake him awake.

‘Please… don’t tell anyone, Dustin. Please…”

But of course he did.

“Will, you don’t say when things aren’t okay. You shoulder them until something breaks. So, I made a judgement call. I didn’t want you to go through it this year alone. I wanted you to know that you have us. That we’re here.”

Will put his head in his hands, “But why did you have to tell Mike?”

“Because I didn’t know how to help. And it’s damn near impossible to get him out of Hawkins these days. But he’ll do it for you.”

His insides did a somersault. “That’s another thing, Dustin.”

“What?”

“Please, stop playing cupid with me and Mike.”

He was quiet, mumbling, “I wasn’t trying to before, at the house. I was just messing around.”

“I know but the jokes were hitting a little too close. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t want to dig up. It’s complicated between us and we need to figure that out ourselves.”

Dustin looked like a puppy getting scolded, “I gotcha. Sorry.”

Will added, “And, I swear to God if I ever hear the word ‘beefcake’ from out of your mouth, I am mailing your nudie mags to your mom.”

His eyes got wide, “You wouldn’t!”

Will rested his chin on his hands, “You really want to gamble on that?”

He held up his hands, “Fine. It is stricken from my vocabulary forever.”

Mike was making his way back over and Will tried to tuck everything back inside. Mike slid back into the booth. He pulled a small notepad from his back pocket and put it on the table.

“Okay. So what are we doing for costumes?”

And Will laughed. All of a sudden, the years melted away. He remembered how Mike would spend the remaining days of summer planning out their Halloween costumes, their trick or treat routes. The jubilant energy of new ideas spreading across his face, the excitement in his voice. It all came back. This time was precious. Their lives would undoubtedly fall back into their pattern before long. Lucas and Max would likely move back by her job in Silicon Valley. Mike would go back to Hawkins. Back to El. So, Will needed to hold onto every moment and make them last.

[thecoleopterawithana]

When you were young and your heart was an open book

Don’t Let Me Down | Paul’s Upbringing

John, because of his upbringing and his unstable family life, had to be hard, witty, always ready for the cover-up, ready for the riposte, ready with the sharp little witticism. Whereas with my rather comfortable upbringing, a lot of family, lot of people, very northern, ‘Cup of tea, love?’, my surface grew to be easy-going. Put people at their ease. Chat to people, be nice, it’s nice to be nice.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Paul grew up in the warm embrace of a loving family. There was hardship, certainly: they were definitely working-class, and the war had been unkind to the cotton exchange business, so it fell on mother Mary to be the main bread-winner of the family, as a domiciliary housewife. Her nursing job also made it so they were always on the move, from one new outskirt council estate to the next, “always on the edge of the world” that was the rebuilding of a war-torn Liverpool. But despite this surrounding instability, the core of the family itself was a safe harbour of reliably loving parents.

I got my compassion for people from my mother. She was a midwife. I think that would probably be the most important quality. Again, respect and caring for others.

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).  

[My mum] was very kind, very loving. There was a lot of sitting on laps and cuddling. She was very cuddly. I think I was very close to her. My brother thinks he was a little closer, being littler. I would just be trying to be a bit more butch, being the older one. She liked to joke and had a good sense of humour and she was very warm. There was more warmth than I now realise there was in most families. [...] They aspired to a better life. That idea that we had to get out of here, we had to do better than this. This was okay for everyone else in the street but we could do better than this. She was always moving to what she saw as a better place to bring her kids up.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Not only had this notion of rising out of their current situation been instilled in Paul and his brother Michael from an early age by his mother – by encouraging them to speak “the Queen’s English” and insist on their education, for example – his father, Jim McCartney, also did his best to pass down his values of “Toleration and Moderation”, a good education and a special emphasis on an honest and responsible work ethic.

I think I got my respect and tolerance for people from my dad, which is a pretty cool quality to inherit. He was very big on tolerance, my dad. It was a word he used to use all the time. I think I grew up with that attitude. You know, you’d say, ‘Bloody hell, I hate that guy.’ and then you’d stop and go, ‘Alright, wait a minute, maybe he’s got a point,’ and you’d try and consider it from his or her point of view. I think that was a great lesson.

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).

He had us out aged about nine. I was virtually a door-to-door salesman by the time I was twelve. [...] I was certainly not shy with people, I think because of all these activities my dad encouraged us into. I think it's probably very good for your confidence with people. It was all right. That was my upbringing.

[...]

My parents aspired for us, very much indeed. That is one of the great things you can find in ordinary people. My mum wanted me to be a doctor. 'My son the doctor' - and her being a nurse, too. No problem there. And my dad, who left school at fourteen, would have loved me to be a great scientist, a great university graduate. I always feel grateful for that. I mean, God, I certainly fulfilled their aspirations, talk about overachieving! That was all bred into me, that.

We had George Newnes Encyclopedias. I can still remember the smell of them. If you didn't know what a word meant or how it was spelled, my dad would say 'Look it up.' I think that's a great attitude to take with kids. It steers you in the right direction. It was part of a game where he was improving us without having had an awful lot of experience of improvement himself. But I always liked that, and I knew I would outstrip him. By going to grammar school I knew I'd fairly soon have Latin phrases or know about Shakespeare which he wouldn't know about.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Just from these passages alone, we can spot the origins of Paul’s tolerant and caring nature, social skills, self-reliance, and tireless drive for self-improvement (with its nuances of social climbing and fierce competitiveness).

All in all, it was a good solid childhood: exploring the woods outside of his house – “Mother Nature’s Son” through and through – playing and running from Speke teds with his friend George Harrison, going to school and working the occasional odd job, helping his family and making them proud.

And then, Paul McCartney’s secure existence was shattered.

My head was in a whirl, only then I realized, I lost my little girl

On the 31st of October 1956, Mary McCartney abruptly dies from complications following her mastectomy. She’d been admitted at a far too advanced state of breast cancer after she’d kept working – while in pain – for several weeks, choosing not to divulge this symptom or the fact that she had a lump in her breast to her colleagues.

The whole family is caught unawares, but the boys especially are mostly kept in the dark.

I remember one horrible day me and my brother going to the hospital. They must have known she was dying. It turned out to be our last visit and it was terrible because there was blood on the sheets somewhere and seeing that, and your mother, it was like "Holy cow!' And of course she was very brave, and would cry after we'd gone, though I think she cried on that visit. But we didn't really know what was happening. We were shielded from it all by our aunties and by our dad and everything.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

The boys are sent away to stay with relatives, noticing that something was wrong but unaware of what was going on, unable to actually say goodbye.

Two days later, it’s too late.

Paul is 14.

As Jim comes to break the news, and his brother Michael breaks down in tears, Paul has an unexpected response.

Mum was a working nurse. There wasn’t a lot of money around – and she was half the family pay packet. My reaction was: ‘How are we going to get by without her money?’ When I think back on it, I think, ‘Oh God, what? Did I really say that?’ It was a terrible logical thought which was preceded by the normal feelings of grief. It was very tough to take.

— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).

It would not be the last time that Paul McCartney’s initial shock response to grief is considered “flippant” or “callous” by the people around him; a fact that has haunted him throughout his life.

I’m very funny when people die. I don’t handle it at all well, because I’m so brought down that I try to bring myself up. So I don’t show grief very well. It actually leads some people to think I don’t care, and I do. I’m not good at it like some people. [...] But I’ve always been kind of inward about those things. So I just deal with it myself.

— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).

By virtue of nature or nurture, Paul exhibits from early on an extreme difficulty or unwillingness to deal with his less pleasant emotions.

His response to the alarm that is pain is to deny that it is ringing altogether.

And this manifested not only in inadequate optimism for some situations, it most often took the shape of what appeared to be too hard and cold pragmatism. Some people, unfortunately, saw his defence-mechanism of turning completely rational in the face of crisis and mistook it for him not caring; when, in fact, he cared so much that his only solution was to try and shut it off.  

He carried with him a great burden of guilt and regret; not concerning his reaction to his mother’s death but also due to other misdemeanours and minor hurts he’d caused her when she was alive.

There's one moment that I've regretted all my life which is a strange little awkwardness for me. There was one time when she said 'ask' and she pronounced it posh. And I made fun of her and it slightly embarrassed her. Years later I've never forgiven myself. It's a terrible little thing. I wish I could go back and say, ‘I was only kidding, Mum.' I’m sure she knew. I'm sure she didn't take it too seriously.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

In retrospect, he even theorized that the lyrics to his acclaimed ‘Yesterday’ were related to his mother’s sudden departure.

With ‘Yesterday’, singing it now, I think without realising it I was singing about my mum who died five or six years previously, or whatever the timing was. Because I think now, “Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say, I said something wrong…”

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Pat Gilbert for MOJO: Don’t look back in anger (November 2013).

So in the aftermath of life completely pulling the rug from under his feet, Paul was not only struggling to deal with his own emotions, trying to bury them far from sight as best as he could, he was being consumed by terrible guilt for doing exactly that.

More than that, he was under the care of his uncle and aunt for several more days, trying to rally his brother so that they wouldn’t appear ‘softies’ in their cousins' eyes, while friends and family tried to hold together a shattered Jim McCartney, “whose first thought was to join his wife”.

Seeing his father break down like that had a huge impact on Paul.

My mother's death broke my dad up. That was the worst thing for me, hearing my dad cry. I'd never heard him cry before. It was a terrible blow to the family. You grow up real quick, because you never expect to hear your parents crying. You expect to see women crying, or kids in the playground, or even yourself crying – and you can explain all that. But when it's your dad, then you know something's really wrong and it shakes your faith in everything. But I was determined not to let it affect me. I carried on. I learnt to put a shell around me at that age.

— Paul McCartney, in The Anthology (1995).

This is very important.

Not only had the only reality he’d ever known been destroyed by his mother’s sudden death, his own father – who was supposed to be this strong, unshakable pillar in his life – couldn’t be relied on to hold it together.

Paul had been let down. He was on his own.

Fear steems from a feeling of powerlessness. You feel painfully vulnerable to whatever life might throw at you, at constant risk of being hurt again, and the only solution is to be on the lookout. Be prepared.

Paul was caught unawares because the people he’d counted on to always be there suddenly weren’t. And with his compassionate and reasonable nature, he probably didn't even blame them at all. But the facts were that Paul had been left hanging, not once but twice, when he needed them the most. So he kind of lost his faith in everything.

Life is chaotic and unpredictable; and people, through no fault of their own, are just as inconstant.

And so, in order not to risk being let down again, Paul took matters into his own hands. He tried to escape the pain and dread of being powerless by seizing control of whatever he could. And that was mostly himself.

And so begins Paul McCartney’s saga of isolating independence and other control-issues.

As Paul said above, he’s “always been kind of inward” about grief and other “negative” emotions. He’d rather be alone at this stage because he doesn’t want to expose his vulnerabilities. Not to others and much less to himself. So he needs a distraction. Something to devote himself to that’ll take his mind off the pain.

The saving grace, as usual, was music.

— Paul McCartney, The Q Interview (2007).

His brother Michael, probably the closest observer we could have of this period, recounts how Paul was like in the aftermath.

Paul was far more affected by Mum’s death than any of us imagined. His very character seemed to change and for a while he behaved like a hermit. He wasn’t very nice to live with at this period, I remember. He became completely wrapped up in himself and didn’t seem to care about anything or anybody outside himself.

He seemed interested only in his guitar, and his music. He would play that guitar in his bedroom, in the lavatory, even when he was taking a bath. It was never out of his hands except when he was at school or when he had to do his homework. Even in school, he and George Harrison used to seize the opportunity every break to sit and strum.

When we left our auntie’s house and returned home, it was agreed that Dad, Paul and I would take it in turns to do the housework.

“We’re a family on our own now,” Dad said. “We’ll all have to help.”

But time after time when I came home from school, I would find that Paul hadn’t done his bit. I would go looking for him and sometimes I would find him, up in his bedroom, perhaps, sitting in the dark, just strumming away on his guitar. Nothing, it seemed, mattered to him any more. He seldom went out anywhere – even with girls. He didn’t bother much with any of his friends except his schoolmate George Harrison and John Lennon, who was at the art school next door. Work and work alone – his school books and his guitar – appeared to be the only thing that could help him to forget.

— Mike McCartney, Woman: Portrait of Paul (21 August 1965).

So Paul takes to complete dedication to work and music to help him ignore his pain. And he’d rather go through this process of burying it on his own. We see him isolate himself from his family and friends, according to Mike socializing mostly with George, also in the context of playing music. John is also mentioned; this could be a smudging of the timeline in Mike’s recollections, as Paul would only meet John the following year. That or Paul’s mourning lasted until the autumn of 1957, when John was enrolled in art college.

We also have a clue about how guarded Paul was with his “negative” emotions – how resilient he always wanted to be – that no one imagined he would be so affected by his mother’s death as he was.

This will also be a repeating theme through Paul’s life: his wish to always be strong, positive and reliable will make others and himself overestimate his imperviousness to trauma. People will then feel free to burden him with their own pain or unload their frustrations on him, without feeling that there would be consequences; because Paul is so tough as to be unaffected by all that. This proved, time and again, not to be true.

His true strength arises, in my opinion, not in the fact that he is unshakable but in his determination to quietly pick himself up again and again.

Losing my mum when I was fourteen was a major tragic event in my life. But, when I think about myself, I am, overall, pretty optimistic, pretty enthusiastic, pretty much into getting on. One of the reasons being, she would want that. I know for certain she would want that. I know Linda would want that. I know John would want that, and George would want that. My dad would want that. They were very, very positive people. And the idea that their deaths would plunge me into some sort of morose depression would bother them. I know that for a fact. So that helps me to not go there.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by John Colapinto for the New Yorker: When I’m sixty-four (4 June 2007).

But as a 14-year-old Northern lad, his tactic of picking himself up didn’t involve dressing the wounds, which would continue to bleed silently in the recesses of his mind.

I certainly didn’t grieve enough for my mother. There was no such thing as a psychiatrist when I lost her. You kidding? I was a 14-year-old Liverpool boy. I wouldn’t have had access to one and I do now.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Nigel Farndale for The Telegraph: Love me do (17 May 2002).

But soon, Paul would find an even greater outlet for his love of music, almost magical in its specialness:

Someone to perform with.

[kz-i-co]

Within This Room

» Request: "hello, can i request a one-shot smut of taeyong? - ahm they were highschool sweethearts back then but broke up because they think they're still young and will meet a lot of people in college. they'll meet again but one of them are already engaged to someone. thank youuu!"

» Pairing: Lee Taeyong/ Reader

» Genre: fluff/smut

» Words: 4.6k

» Part 2 | Part 3

» m.list ╫ nct masterlist

-

ding...

You glanced over to your laptop that was sitting at your work station lighting up the dark room. You were just lounging away the rest of a hard work day with one simple musical to lighten the mood.

"You gonna check that?" Your roommate spoke from you just staring trying to figure out if you wanted to get up or not.

Mmhmm....

You groaned finally getting up from your relaxing position and out to the coldness of your apartment.

"I think our heat is broken again." You said on your way to the laptop.

"I feel fine....we'll call Sungmin tomorrow." She said with annoyance. The landlord rather be a cheapskate and keep fixing it over and over again rather then buy a new one is anyone's guess.

"It's only October, why can't he just hire someone who knows what they're doing?" Your best friend continued to speak.

Dear Class of 2014

It has come to our attention that Seoulbridge High is coming to its final end and wanted a proper fair well. Since we don't have much time left we wanted to take the time to spend our class reunion early and enjoy it with our final goodbyes in the place we used to call our second home. As valedictorian I wanted the chance to bring as many students together for not only a reunion but as a family for our final goodbye. 6 years ago we may have left this school behind but just remember that it helped us grow as adults. Some of you may look at it as just a dusty old building no one wanted to be in but take a look on the other side and realize all the memories that will soon be gone forever. Please take the time to join us for a simple get together and laugh and enjoy the good old times. Food and drinks will be provided. Hope to see you all there.

- Lee Gayoon (Valedictorian)

"Anything from work?" Haejin spoke.

"Nah. Just something about a high school reunion."

"Aren't high school reunions for 10 years after graduation?"

"Yeah but our school is getting shut down I guess." You spoke.

"Why didn't my mom tell me?" You said to yourself. She was vice principal of Seoulbridge High for 36 years. That school was more then just a job to her, it was her second home, her family. Can't believe it's closing.

"You going?"

"I don't know. It would be weird to run into old faces. I've lost touch with all my high school friends."

"So.....Reunions are fun. You can make up shit like you are a trained assassin or something." She laughed.

"No one would believe that." You closed your laptop.

"You never know."

"I don't need to make anything up. I like our job."

"So do I but we aren't rolling in money if you know what I mean."

"We will get our riches some day. We are artistessss." You said with a fake accent.

-

"Hey.....why didn't you tell me about the school?" You said as soon as your mother answered her phone.

"I was gonna call you. They only broke the news the other day."

"Oh...I'm sorry mom."

"It's okay honey. The building was too old, falling apart."

"What about work?" You asked.

"I will find another school. There are plenty in the city."

"Yeah but it would be a farther drive." You were always worried about your parents.

"A few more miles won't hurt dear." She laughed. "They are having a reunion."

"Yeah I got an invite last night."

"I hope you are going." Your mother spoke.

"I don't know."

"How come?"

"I haven't spoken to any of my friends in like 5 years and it's just weird being back."

"You did so much for this school though. Art club, yearbook club, choir."

"I get it." You rolled your eyes even though she couldn't see.

"I saw Taeyong's Mom this morning, she said he's going."

Taeyong? You haven't even thought about him in the last few years. What was he up to? What did he even look like now? What did he go to school for? Where was he working? Is he the same person you remember?

Question after question circled your mind. He was your first love, your first serious boyfriend. The boy you were so sure you wanted to grow old with, marry, maybe even have kids with one day. But it soon ended the day you were both leaving for college. You were going to be miles away from each other and you both knew long distance relationships were hard to keep stable so you both just decided to save the heart break and ended it. You acted strong but it crushed you bad. Your first 2 weeks of college was a tragic mess but thank god for Haejin. She became your best friend quickly and helped you move on. You were roommates for your four years of college and you both became roommates immediately after that. She was sadly probably one of the reasons you lost contact with your other friends. Texts and phone calls became less and less and the only thing left that kept you labeled friends was Facebook.

It really was no ones fault but distance. It happens to everyone.

"Taeyong?"

"Yes honey." She laughed. "Have you spoken since the break up?"

"No." 6 years is a long time.

"I'm sure you'll click like always. I was so sure you two were gonna get married."

Now you were sure you definitely didn't want to go. How could you face him again after all these years? You couldn't stand things being awkward. It was torture at its finest.

"He's probably happy with someone else."

"I don't know. What about you? You still dating Yunho?"

"No we broke up like 6 months ago."

"Who are you going to bring then?"

"I'm not sure if I want to go yet."

"Please. You have to go. I'll be there. Oh? We can go together." She suddenly got excited.

"I'm too busy at work."

"You can take off can't you."

"I'll think about it." You left it at that before hanging up.

You rather not travel 3 hours to go to some dumb high school reunion with people you haven't spoken to in 6 years it was chaotic.

-

"I can't believe I'm doing this. It's stupid." You said lifting your duffel bag on your shoulder.

With the help of your dearest roommate and mother, you were convinced to spend the week with your parents going to the chaotic high school reunion you wanted no part of.

You did want to go to the school one last time and soak in all the memories you once had but you rather do it alone.

"I'll keep you updated at work. You probably won't miss much." Haejin informed as she led you to the train.

"Please don't burn down our apartment."

"No promises." She said causing you to laugh. "Anything goes wrong we have our handy Sungmin."

"Yeah right." You rolled your eyes.

"Have fun." She smiled and you hugged goodbye. You haven't been on a train since you were 9 years old. It was strange but relaxing.

"Thank you." The attendant helped you place your bag overhead.

You sat comfortably in your seat, immediately plugging in your headphones and a simple click to your library. Nothing better then watching soft raindrops hit the window as you played soft music to fit the atmosphere perfectly. If only you had your favorite pillow to top it off.

....

The 3 hours ended quickly as you felt the sudden shake of a halt, waking you. The soft music still playing in one ear bud as the other laid still tangled in your sweater. You clicked it off, rolling it around your phone and placing it in your back pocket as the train piles out.

Once you got off the train you searched the area for any sigh of a familiar face. You haven't seen your parents in a solid year, one Christmas ago, so you only hoped that nothing changed.

I see you.....

You got a strange text but quickly calmed down seeing it was only your oh so humorous mother. Maybe texting shouldn't be allowed for some people.

"Did you get my text?" She said holding up her phone like some proud accomplishment.

"Yes mom." You couldn't help but chuckle followed by a welcoming hug.

"I missed you." She spoke as she guided you to the parking lot. "Your father was leaving work late so he couldn't make it. But he promised to bring home some dinner."

"Sounds great."

"You've gotten so thin, are you eating enough?" She kept asking questions.

"Yeah."

"You should really sigh up for food support."

"I don't need that. Haejin and I are making great process at the gallery."

"I hope so."

"Let me at least buy you some grocery's every now and then." She continued.

"Stop worrying about me mom. I'm more worried about you. Have you found a job yet?"

"I'm meeting up with the Principal of Seoul Prep-"

"A prep school? Can you handle it?" You teased.

"Of course." You both got into the car.

"I'm so happy, this weekend is going to be so fun." Your mom was so excited. "You can sleep in your old bedroom.....It's the guest room now but it's not too different."

"Did you finally paint it?"

"Yes, we got rid of the neon pink finally."

"Aw too bad." You laughed.

"I don't know how you can stand that room with that color. I was blinded every time I walked in."

"I liked it."

"Have you contacted any of your friends yet?"

"No." You sighed. "I feel guilty not keeping in touch. Its going to be awkward seeing them again."

"Stop being so nervous."

Once you got to the house, it was nearly night time and your father just arrived home with dinner.

"If only Chae could of made it this weekend. It would be just like old times." Your mother continued to weep.

"You need to visit more." Your father joined in. "It's only 3 hours, I don't mind driving to get you."

"I know. I'm just so busy at work and all." You said in defense.

"You work too hard there. They should be paying you better with that kind of labor." Your mother complained.

"They pay me well. It just depends on my art work. It's hard for an amateur to make good money."

"At least have a plan b."

"I can't have a plan b. It's what I went to school for. The longer I'm there the better I'll succeed." You said not trying to sound annoyed. Your parents always supported your career choice but always had to ask questions and put other options in your head. Art was a risky path but it all pays off in the end.

"Alright. I just don't want you to be overwhelmed with anything. How are your student loans?"

"It's fine. They allow me to make small payments." You nodded.

"Let's change the subject." Your father started. "What time does it start?"

"We have to be there by at least 7 for the dinner but it's better if we go early to socialize." Your mother was chipper again.

"Why do we have to go early. Can't we just have dinner and go?" You complained.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N). I didn't raise you to be unsociable. You should want to be around old familiar faces." Your mother spoke and you just slouched in your seat, feeling like a kid again.

You knew she was right but hated it.

"We will be there by 5 tomorrow."

-

"Look how beautiful you are. Maybe you will find a new man or possible you and Taeyong will end up getting back together?" Your mother gave you flirty eyes that had you rolling yours.

"It's been 6 years mom, he's probably taken."

"Don't know for sure. You're single." She got in the car.

"Thanks for pointing that out." You said but she didn't hear you.

....

Once you got to the school, it looked the same as you remember. It was heart breaking how they are tearing it down. All the time you spent here will just be gone.

You saw other people making their way inside and so far didn't recognize anyone. The party was in the gym and once you got there you were surprised how many people were already here.

"There was more classes invited other then yours."

"Oh...great." You were already feeling claustrophobic.

"Hey Mrs. (Y/L/N), I'm so happy you're here." The Principal spoke to your mother. "And Ms. (Y/N), it's so good to see you." He bowed.

"Thank you. I'm glad to be here." You lied.

"Go ahead and socialize." He said and took your mother away in conversation.

You actually rather stay by your mothers side in all honesty but now things were weird.

You said hello to the few familiar faces you knew.

"(Y/N) look at you. You look so beautiful. It's been too long." Your old best friend Dayoung hugged you.

"I missed you." You said overwhelmed with emotion. You felt horrible for losing touch and couldn't believe how such a thing could happen.

"You look so good girl." She laughed.

"So do you. Wow." Your eyes bulged at her. She was at least 7 month pregnant.

"I know. Never thought I would be the first to get pregnant out of us all. But I met the love of my life freshman year of college and I've never been happier. And Ren just got engaged can you believe it. And she's talking about kids." She spoke.

You felt so left out of everything. Your most bestest friends were already having kids and getting married and here you were the single life in a run down city apartment. It's crazy how 6 years can move so fast.

"What about you? Have you met anyone since Taeyong? I always thought you two were the perfect couple I was hoping you two worked things out and were off getting married by now."

"No. We haven't spoken since we broke."

"Wow really?"

"Have you at least spoken to him tonight? He's looking fine."

"He's here?" You asked, your voice becoming unsteady.

"Oh, great." You quickly calmed down.

"I saw him talking to Mr. Sing last."

"Hey I'm sorry about not staying in contact." You said feeling guilty.

"No worries (Y/N). It's a two way street. It just happens." She smiled.

"We need to use the bathroom." She said rubbing her belly. "You should go catch up with Taeyong."

You nodded quickly leaving the gym. You couldn't face him alone. You looked pathetic. You decided to just look through the glass displays of all the memories and achievements throughout the years.

There was a picture of you and Taeyong on prom night for king and queen. Your friend Dayoung was the head of the committee so you were convinced she cheated for you.

"Do you remember when I tripped on your dress knocking over like 5 different people." You heard a voice behind you and once you saw who it was you grew speechless.

Taeyong? You couldn't believe it. He looked amazing. He was always handsome before but he glowed up more then you could ever imagine. It was like you were in front of a movie star. Model-esque.

"Hi." You said shyly.

"I'm sorry for not approaching you sooner. I was nervous." He said cutely.

"You we're nervous? Why?"

"Because It's been a long time......And you look beautiful." He smiled.

"As do you." You giggled. "I really missed you." You finally said.

"I missed you too."

"I'm such a horrible person. I lost contact with my old life. Dayoung's pregnant."

"Yeah I saw that." He laughed. "Don't blame yourself. It happens."

"So how are you?" You spoke trying to change the subject.

"Good. Got a job in a studio."

"What, really? That was your dream."

"Yeah." He smiled. "It's still off to a slow start though."

"Yeah. Well, you're doing what you love right?" You smiled.

"What about you?" He asked.

"Got a job in a gallery."

"(Y/N) that's amazing."

"Yeah, but like you, it's off too a very slow start. My mom is complaining for me to get a real job."

"Your art was always amazing, you don't need to worry."

"You won the art show 3 years in a row." He pointed to one of the display photos in the glass cabinet but your eyes wandered down to a ring that was placed perfectly on his finger.

He's married? What? Your heart actually shattered. You felt like it was crazy to think you would ever get back together but this made it officially impossible.

"You're married?" You couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth.

"Oh, this." He said but you couldn't figure out what he was thinking. "Engaged actually."

"Wow. Congratulations." You said trying to not sound disappointed. "Um...for how long?"

"5 months."

You nodded. "When's the big day coming?"

"Not sure, Jiyoon is taking control." He laughed nervously.

"Is she here?" You asked wanting to slap, you mean congratulate the lucky lady.

"No, we actually got into a big fight this morning." He pursed his lips.

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Nah, we always work it out."

"Do you fight a lot?" You asked and saw his questionable expression. "Sorry It's none of my business."

"No it's okay. You're not a stranger (Y/N)." He smiled. "These past few months have been stressful that's all. She's worried about too much and just picks a fight over every little thing."

"What about you? Seeing anyone?" He continued.

"Well-"

"Aw look at the young prom king and queen. You both still look great as ever." Mrs. Hunt came over. "I'm happy some of the memories here is as strong as ever."

"Actually we aren't toget- okay." She walked away ignoring you. "She's gotten so old." You laughed.

"Guys come on, the dinner is starting." Dayoung quickly passed you.

"We'll catch up some more afterwards." He said and you just nodded.

You moved back to the gym siting next to your mother at one of the round tables.

"Thank you for all those who made it here tonight." The principle started. "I know this news brings everyone to a shock but unfortunately it's for the better and safety for the kids. We have had put a lot of money into this school lately for little fixes and trying to renovate as much as we can but the bored agreed it's time to say goodbye. This school has been around for 87 years and it's been hanging on with a thread." You can hear the sadness in his voice. "Most of the teachers have brought their belongings home but we still have so much that needs to be collected. That's why for the next few days we will be cleaning out the school and whoever wants to participate is more then welcomed to." He bowed and headed off stage.

"Cheers." Another teacher said and everyone clinked their glasses.

....

After dinner most of the older teachers went home and the rest of the students were chit chatting or dancing to the dim music that was playing in the back ground. Dayoung was with you most of the night, keeping you company, until you needed space.

Your mother went home as well and personally asked Dayoung to drive you home. But before the night was over you wandered up to the Tech lab above the auditorium.

The Tech lab was pretty much your home away from home. You escaped here, you hung out here, even made out here. It was probably the most important room in this whole school to you.

Your fingers danced over the childish carving that was scraped into the table stating "LT <3 YN" in a big fancy heart. You made a small chuckle from the cute memory.

"Hey."

You turned around bringing the memory to life. "Are you following me?" You smiled.

"Actually yeah. I saw you come up here." He came closer to see what you were looking at. "Isn't this from prom night?"

"Yeah. We got pretty heated up here that night." You blushed and noticed he was as well.

"This place will be gone soon." He spoke.

"Yeah." You looked around the room.

"Want to make a toast?" He opened his coat and pulled out a small steel flask.

"Now this definitely reminds me of prom." You giggled.

He took a sip and handed you the flask. You leaned against the control table, next to him as you took your sip. He had some pretty powerful stuff in that little thing.

"Remember the time, senior year when we skipped calculus and the principal was on the hunt for us." You laughed. "That little rascal Heejun gave away our secret hiding spot."

"I remember.....We couldn't come in here for a whole month because they changed the locks."

"I had to force Ren to go on a date with Seungjin just so we could get the new key." You both were laughing at the old memory as you took your sips.

"Hey, when did you get this?" He moved your hair as you felt his breath against the top of your shoulder blade.

You looked at him, surprised at the closeness but continued to follow his contact at a simple tattoo that was peeking outside your strap.

"Oh that." You blushed. "My second year of college.....I think."

"Did it hurt?" He said almost as a hush whisper.

"A little." You responded just as soft and caught him staring at you sweetly.

Almost like you were falling in love all over again that you couldn't help but lean forward and bring your lips towards his.

You could tell the kiss took him by surprise from his lack of movement and you immediately pulled away.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." You started to panic. "I can't believe I did that. You're about to be married." You we're pacing but all of a sudden he pulled you back in for more.

He had you pinned against the table with one hand on your hip and the other gently caressing your neck. You weren't hesitant to respond back but you felt beyond guilt.

You pushed back so you were sitting on the table with him between your legs. You were both fighting for dominance at this point. He moved away to continue down to your neck, not leaving a part of your skin untouched.

You felt like you were in a dream as he moved your strap, kissing father down your body.

He pulled his hips in closer, so you can feel every part of him. You couldn't help your hand slipping farther down towards the waist line of his pants unbuckling them in the process.

You suddenly felt a cold chill as he slide his hand up your thigh, under you dress just to pull your panties down with it. Your stomach burst with butterflies, just from the sensation.

You bit your lip weakly and leaned your head back as he continued making love bites on your beautiful skin. As he was satified he leaned back up and brought his lips back to yours.

You once again brought your hands down to the front of his pants not having any control. The worst part of all was you knew this was wrong and it needed to stop. But why couldn't you? You knew your first love was special but you thought 6 years apart those feelings would of long subside. Why was this any different?

You moved your hand father down surprised he was already hard for you. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

Once he stopped to catch his breath, he rested his head gently against yours, looking down as he guided himself in. You let out a soft wince as the pain started from the tight space. You bit your lip as the moans were already filling up the small room just from him slowly rocking against you.

You both were so caught up in the moment you weren't even aware of how loud you were being once things inclined.

He had his hands comfortably under your thigh as your legs wrapped around his waist for more closure. You held onto his shoulders tightly as the pleasure was at its high.

"Fff." You were a moaning mess as that beautiful feeling started to wash throughout your body making you tense up.

Not to long after he reached his high and brought his lips towards yours once again letting your both work it's way down. As he was about to speak the door knob jiggled, alerting you apart to put yourselves back together as much as possible before the door opened. You quickly grabbed your underwear and tried to fix your messed up lipstick as well as your hair to not be obvious but it was no use.

"Oh no you two didn't." Dayoung started as the evidence was clear. "Just like old times huh." She laughed. "Not the first time I caught you two in here.....but anyway they are locking up."

"Alright thanks."

"Are you ready to go (Y/N)?" She asked.

"Yeah." You said moving towards the door. "Maybe I'll see you later." You said leaving it simple.

"Okay." He said with a nod, not stopping you.

"Let's hurry." She said.

You couldn't stopping thinking the whole ride home. He just cheated on his finance and it was all your fault. You kissed him first.

"Thanks for the ride." You said getting out the car.

"You helping out tomorrow?" She asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I need to check with work." You lied. You knew you're not needed but wasn't sure if you wanted to go. Especially if Taeyong was going, you wouldn't know how to face him now.

"Okay. I'll see you (Y/N)." She smiled.

-

You were lying comfortably in the guest bedroom before a loud interrupted jump appeared. "Good morning." A loud voice broke your slumber.

"Ow...get off." You rolled over.

"(Y/N) aren't you happy to see me?" She said.

"At the moment no."

"Get up It's already past 10." She continued to poke you.

You finally turned over and looked at her in your sleepy state. "I thought mom said you couldn't make it?"

"I had mid terms yesterday but I got permission to leave for a few days." Your sister smiled. "Bummer I missed last night. Free food." She pouted.

"It wasn't all that great." You mumbled.

"(Y/N) get up. We're going to the school." Your mother popped in the door.

"But why?" You whined.

"Because I said so." She left.

"I'm an adult you can't tell me what to do." You mumbled but she was already gone.

"You're coming." You starred at your sister as you began to get dressed.

"Boring." She rolled her eyes and left.

....

"And then she said it was the cat." Your mother laughed and you and your sister clearly didn't get the moral of the story.

"Funny." You said sarcastic.

Once you got to the school, you were surprised how many people were actually there. You entered the gym and Taeyong gave you a small wave.

You took a deep breath and walked over to him. You need to talk to him.

"Hey can we talk about last night."

"Hi." Some girl came over and held Taeyong's hand. "Are you friends with Taeyong?"

"Yeah." You smiled.

"I'm Jiyoon, Taeyong's fiancé." She held out her hand.

Hi I'm (Y/N) Taeyong's ex and girl that slept with your fiancé last night. 

"Hi."

[pastelwitchling]

Week 1: Friday, October 4, 2019

Hauntings and Possessions

***

               “How’d you find this guy anyway?” Michael asked, the wind from the window blowing his curls over his eyes. He looked to Alex in the passenger seat, hoping he would answer, but the airman continued looking through his files as if Michael hadn’t spoken at all. Michael supposed he should’ve expected the silence, but it stung nonetheless.

               “Encryptions of my dad’s journals,” Kyle said. “We’ve been looking through them for weeks, and finally we got an entry on one Harold Edwards.”

               “If he was in the Sherriff’s journals, don’t you think he’d be dead by now?” Michael poked his head through the seats, staring at Alex. The airman seemed adamant on ignoring him.

               “I looked through my mom’s police database, and it says he’s here,” Kyle said, seemingly unaware or completely indifferent to the tension beside him. “But his records could’ve been forged, outdated, maybe he moved without telling anyone –”

               “Maybe my father killed him,” Alex muttered. Michael didn’t think he’d meant anyone to hear him.

               Kyle raised a brow. “Hm?”

               “Nothing,” he said, closing the file with a sigh. “I just hope this isn’t another dead end. I’m getting sick of coming up with nothing.”

               “That’s the award-winning codebreaker in you,” Kyle teased, and it hurt Michael. It hurt that he could so confidently joke with Alex without fearing that the airman will turn away from him. “The one used to getting what he wants.”

               “You make me sound so spoiled,” Alex said, though the corner of his lips quirked upward. “Is that what you really think of me?”

               “So now you care what I think of you?”

               Alex didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed his arms, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes as he heaved a deep sigh.

               “Alex, we’ll find something,” Kyle reassured him. “Until then, you and I get to spend more time working together. The doctor and the airman. In a bunker. Alone. Just you and me and hundreds upon thousands of encrypted files –”

               “Oh, please,” Alex laughed, hiding his face in his hands. “Please let something come out of this. Please let this guy exist. Please, God, please.”

               Hearing Alex’s laugh after months of receiving nothing but his scowl was like a breath of fresh air in Michael’s compressed chest, but to know that it wasn’t for him, that it wasn’t because of him, it felt as if he was suddenly trespassing on a private conversation.

               “Here’s what I don’t get,” Kyle suddenly said, and looked at Michael in the rearview mirror. “Why are you here?”

               “This involves my family, why wouldn’t I be here?”

               Kyle raised a brow, and Michael could tell he did not entirely believe him. “This is Project Shepherd business, and I don’t remember inviting you.”

               “Project Shepherd,” Michael tilted his head. “You mean that thing Jesse Manes created to destroy me and everyone I love? You want to try to tell me I’m not a part of that?”

               Kyle looked like he wanted to respond, but Alex merely said, “He’s protection,” and left it at that. Kyle seemed to know not to argue with him, and even Michael didn’t dare say anything.

               They were silent the rest of the way, only able to speak when they finally pulled up at a small cabin miles outside of town. The grass had turned brown, there were weeds and thorns surrounding the home, naked tree branches curled against the boarded windows, and at the front of the property, there was a rectangular stone that had grass, thorns, dead flowers, and dead bugs along its sides.

               “You sure this is right?” Michael asked, and Alex nodded.

               “What does that say?” Kyle asked, and, using his jacket sleeve, he rubbed away the dirt that had gathered on the stone to reveal the words, HAROLD EDWARDS 1912-1947, carved into the rock. Kyle stepped back. “What the hell?”

               “Told you,” Michael shrugged. “He’s probably dead.”

               Alex stared at the stone, his lips pursed, then he took a step towards the door. Michael grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Hey, Private, do you not see the gravestone?”

               “So?”

               “So? So this place is probably haunted!”

               Alex stared. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

               “You,” he huffed. “You still wanna go in?”

               Alex pulled his arm out of Michael’s grasp just as Kyle said, “I thought you wanted answers.”

               “That’s not the only reason I’m here, Valenti.”

               “Then enlighten me,” Kyle said. “What’re you here for?”

               Michael looked to Alex, then the front door, and sighed. “Protection,” he said, and stepped ahead of Alex. “Just stay behind me.”

               The things I do for love.

               The door, as oppose to the rest of the cabin which was made of wood, was a thin, rusted metal that echoed when Michael knocked on it. It was ice-cold, and sent a chill up Michael’s bones that didn’t go away easily.

               “I’m getting heat signatures,” Alex said, his monitor out and directed at the door.

               “Guess that rules out Guerin’s ghost theory,” Kyle said, then his eyes went over Michael’s shoulder and he frowned. “Hey, Alex, you okay?”

               Michael looked over to see Alex’s jaw clenched, his hands on the monitor so tight that his knuckled were white. Still, he said, “Yeah, I – I’m fine.” He reached past Michael and knocked again.

               When no one answered, Kyle stepped back. “Okay, Star Wars, you’re up.”

               “Better,” Alex noted, and Michael glanced at the doctor irritably before he focused his power, and pushed the door wide open. It creaked loudly, revealing a hallway that was crowded with shadows. “Kyle, the flashlights are in my bag.”

               “Right.” Kyle dug them out, and handed one each to Michael and Alex.

               For the most part, the house seemed to be normal, save for the blinding darkness that had Michael nearly tripping over a small glass table against the wall, and Kyle nearly slipping on a puddle of water that was coming from who-knew-where. For a man with a prosthetic leg, however, Alex was doing a remarkably good job not stumbling over anything as they made their way through the small house.

               “Let’s split up,” Alex said, pointing his flashlight at another hallway. “Cover more ground.”

               Kyle raised a brow. “You don’t think the theater’s screaming at the kids in the horror movie for splitting up?”

               It must’ve been some kind of inside joke that Michael wasn’t in on because Alex grinned, digging a nail deeper into Michael’s heart, and said, “If you see any skeletons, scream.”

               Kyle smirked, and went down one hallway, his feet splashing in puddles all over the wood. Without a thought, Michael followed Alex down another hallway, the first door opening into a kitchen turned dark with boarded windows. Michael opened a microwave, and hundreds of cockroaches crawled out. Michael jumped back, hitting Alex.

               “Sorry,” he said, and Alex raised a brow.

               “You’re an alien with your own secret bunker, don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark.”

               “I’m not scared of the dark,” Michael said, that familiar chill returning to his body. Was there a draft blowing in here? he wondered before he quickly realized that with the windows nailed shut, there was no way any wind was getting in. “But there’s scary, and then there’s just gross.”

               Alex said nothing as he waved a flashlight over the rusted pots on the stove, the tea kettle that was beginning to grow mold, and the cup of tea left on the counter that was now infested with fruit flies.

               “Alex, there’s no way anyone lives here,” he said.

               “Come on,” Alex said, and barely made it two steps out the door when he suddenly stopped. Michael came to stand beside him, and his eyes widened. There, standing in the middle of the hallway, was Jesse Manes. He was glaring at Alex, and in his hand, there was a sledgehammer.

               “No,” Alex breathed. “There’s no way. You can’t be here.”

               Michael swallowed, slowly reaching to take Alex’s arm, to pull him behind him, to shield him from his father, but one of Jesse’s piercing blue eyes looked over to Michael so that Jesse had one eye on each of them.

               Alex gasped, and stepped in front of Michael, holding the cowboy’s hand so painfully tight, as if to say, “I won’t let him touch you. I can’t let him touch you.”

               Suddenly, Jesse’s jaw opened wide enough that he could’ve fit his fist inside, and he screamed as if in agony. He ran at Alex and Michael, his weapon raised, and Michael wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, pulling him tight against him before using his powers to throw them both into the kitchen and slam the door shut, hitting Jesse hard enough to knock him out.

               The two stood there a moment in the silence, breathing heavily, their fingers digging into one another’s skin.

               “Alex,” Michael panted, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against the back of Alex’s head, inhaling his scent, reassuring himself that Alex was there, with him, safe and sound. “Alex.”

               “That couldn’t have been real,” Alex whispered. “He’s not here, he can’t be here.”

               “Alex, Alex, look at me, Alex –”

               But Alex was already disentangling himself from Michael’s grasp. He swung the door open, his flashlight high above his head as if he meant to strike his father with it, but when they opened the door, there was no one there. Not even a dent where the door would’ve hit Jesse.

               “What?” Michael breathed, and followed Alex out into the hall, looking around warily as the airman picked up his monitor where it had fallen. He searched the screen and frowned.

               “There’s only one other heat signature here,” Alex said. “What we saw – that couldn’t have been my dad.”

               “Alex –”

               “No, Guerin, I’m not wrong,” he faced him, and it was the first time Alex had looked at him in months. “Before we came in, I felt… cold. The same way I felt when I was a kid, and I heard my dad come home. I can’t explain it, I just – I know that whatever’s happening here, it has to do with my dad.”

               “Okay,” Michael tried, not wanting to scare Alex by telling him that he had felt strangely cold himself. “Okay, I believe you, Alex.” He shook his head. “It must have been a projection, right? Someone’s just trying to scare us. Hey, look at me. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m here, okay? I’ll protect you.”

               Alex exhaled shakily, seemed to realize that Michael had come close enough to touch him, and to Michael’s relief, did not move away. Michael slowly reached up to touch Alex’s jaw, the slight stubble on his otherwise soft skin. He brushed a gentle thumb across Alex’s lips, relief spreading through his chest when some of the tension seemed to deflate in the airman’s shoulders. Alex’s brows furrowed as if even he couldn’t believe what he was letting Michael do, how close he was letting him stand, how much he was letting him touch.

               Michael was so tempted to turn their flashlights off, to let them enjoy just a moment of darkness, to pull Alex in close and whisper reassurances against his lips. He wanted to run his fingers through Alex’s soft, chocolate locks, to kiss his temple and tell him that he would burn the world to the ground to protect him. Then –

               “Alex!” Kyle’s voice came through the halls, and Alex gasped, stepping back from Michael as if he was a dangerous fire. Kyle found them soon enough, flashing his light in their faces. The blinding white seemed to be enough to snap Alex completely out of whatever he and Michael had just shared.

               “There’s something wrong with this place,” Kyle said, having either not noticed the tension between his two companions, or chosen to ignore it. “You’re not gonna believe what I found clogging the bathroom. We have to get out of here.”

               Alex checked the monitor, then down the shadowed hall. “There’s still one other person living here. We have to find out who that is.” He took a few steps, and stood. Without looking over his shoulder, he said, “And if you see anything that looks like my father, kill it.”

               Kyle looked startled, but Michael could only think to follow closely along, eyes roaming every corner and shadow, daring that projection to come out again, to try to hurt Alex. Michael didn’t care what it was, or what weapon it held, he would tear it to shreds.

               They searched every room, each darker and more rat-infested than the last. Michael had nearly gagged when he saw worms and cockroaches nesting in a dead rat’s corpse in the corner of a closet. A time or two, Michael heard a low growl, something not entirely human but not entirely inhuman either, and he looked over his shoulder but there was no one there. Alex tensed while Kyle hardly reacted; Michael suspected that only he and the airman could hear it. He held an arm up to shield Alex who glanced at him but said nothing.

               As they approached the last room at the end of the hall, an old voice croaked out of the already open door. “Who’s there?”

               Michael hesitated, but Alex continued in with Kyle beside him. The room looked like an office; there were shelves along the peeling walls with books that were falling apart, covered in dust and cobwebs, the window in the back was boarded up, and behind a large, chipped, and dusty desk, there sat a shriveled old man in an armchair with its leather torn.

               The man looked up slowly, one of his blue eyes glassy and pale. A blind eye, Michael realized.

               “Ah,” he suddenly said, a smile cracking against his wrinkled, hard face, like cracks in old clay. “Alex Manes. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a Manes in my presence, and such a young one, too.”

               Alex frowned. “How do you know my name?”

               “I know all the Maneses,” he said, his large hand trembling as he lifted it. Michael was horrified to see what looked like a large beetle crawl from his shirt collar and into the thick layers of skin in his neck, and disappear. “All of them. Come here, boy, let me see you properly.”

               But Kyle and Michael both took one of Alex’s arms at once, keeping him beside them. “You’re such a Manes fan, you wanna explain that projection you have in your hallway?”

               Kyle glanced at Michael with furrowed brows, but the old man only chuckled. Either that, or he was sobbing, Michael couldn’t tell.

               “That is no projection,” he said, took a deep breath, and continued. “A monster under your bed, Manes, playing a trick on you.”

               Michael stepped forward, blocking the old man’s view of Alex. “Really? Because I saw Jesse Manes, too, and he sure as hell isn’t the monster under my bed.”

               The man looked irritably at Michael as if he was seeing through him. He wants Alex, Michael realized. Kyle must’ve noticed the same thing because he moved beside Michael, completely guarding the airman.

               “Er –” the old man swatted at something that was not there, and said, “these walls were always haunted by the Manes family. Monsters breed monsters. If you saw Jesse Manes, then he must’ve drawn your blood, too.”

               “And yours?” Kyle said. “I know you worked on Project Shepherd with Jesse Manes and Jim Valenti. Did Jesse betray you in some way? Did he hurt you?”

               “Hurt me, bah!” he glared, his blue eye turning black in an instant. “I was tortured, kept in a cage with others like me. I knew to fear and hate those men.”

               Michael turned cold all over. Tortured and caged. This man was an alien. “But,” he shook his head. “How…?”

               “The gravestone,” Alex said, and stepped past Michael and Kyle’s defenses. “It says you died in 1947.”

               “The first alien crash,” Kyle said, his eyes widening with realization.

               “You’re not Harold Edwards,” Alex said. “You’re just pretending to be.” The man broke out into a grin, as if he found the entire story very amusing, and Alex clenched his jaw. “What’d you do? Kill Edwards? Take his body? What?!”

               The old man slapped his own cheeks as if trying to pull the meat suit off, and when he was unable to, he shook his head. “It did little to save me. I was afraid – I was – I was afraid. And,” his grin slowly turned so wide that the corners of his lips touched his ears, “he screamed so loudly. I – I wanted him to scream louder. It soothed me, you see.” And he pulled back his sleeve to reveal his forearm stripped of flesh, only the bones poking through, “I just wanted to be soothed. But then the damn thing got us caught.”

               “Oh my God,” Kyle looked like he was going to be sick, and for once in his life, Michael agreed with him. Alex looked stone-cold as ever.

               “Alex,” he tilted his head piteously. “Alex, come closer, I want to touch you.”

               “Alex, let’s get out of here.”

               “He won’t listen to you, brother,” the alien said to Michael, though his eyes were searching Alex’s face as if he could see into his soul. “You’ve done far too much damage already.”

               “I’m not your family,” Michael seethed. “Alex, come on.”

               “That’s your fear, isn’t it?” the man said, leaning forward in his seat as if he hoped to reach Alex from there, the desk creaking beneath him. “Not your father, but becoming him. And you should be afraid. You two are no different.”

               “Shut up!” Kyle snapped, pulling Alex back towards him. “Come on, Alex, he can’t help us.”

               “Broken, inside and out,” the old man said, his voice morphing so that it sounded like two voices, one as deep as thunder, the other as high as lightening, were speaking at the same time. “The man you love hates you, the friends you trusted abandoned you, the brother you cherish,” he glanced at Kyle, “he’ll leave soon enough.”

               Alex slammed his hands on the desk, his voice quiet as he said, “You think you can scare me, but you can’t. You murdered an innocent person, you tortured him. You’re nothing but a psychopath.”

               The alien stared a moment at Alex, his grin in place, and with a lightening speed he did not have before, he grabbed Alex’s wrist in an iron-like grip, pulled him close, and muttered something that Michael could not hear. Just as he moved to wrench Alex free, the old man let him go, and Alex stumbled back, his hand covering his wrist.

               Alex’s eyes were wide as he stared at the old man, and before they knew it, Edwards had fallen back in his seat, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Kyle hesitated, then stepped around the desk to check him.

               He pulled back quickly with his jaw clenched. “He’s been dead a while,” he said and looked to Alex. He put a hand on his shoulder. The brother you cherish, Michael remembered. He never thought Valenti would become someone Alex cherished. But then, he realized, while Alex knew all there was to know about him, there was a lot of Alex’s past that Michael didn’t know. That he’d never asked to know.

               “You okay, Manes?” Kyle asked, and never before had Michael heard the name said with such fondness, such care. It’s because it’s Alex, he thought, and as much as he wanted to deny it, Kyle seemed to have a soft spot for the airman.

               But Alex was still staring at the corpse. Michael had thought that Alex had been completely unaffected by the old man’s words, but he could see him now, running them through in his head, hearing them over and over. He was afraid, Michael thought. Afraid it was all true, that everyone would leave him.

               Michael felt a sudden guilt consume him, as if he didn’t have the right to touch Alex. Kyle had the right, Kyle was allowed to. The man you love hates you. Alex didn’t actually believe that was true, did he?

               “Alex –”

               “He deserved to be in that cage,” Alex muttered, and Michael felt as if someone had stabbed his heart.

               Alex suddenly turned and left the cabin, the two following him outside. They torched the place and watched it burn to the ground, not wanting anything left that Jesse could come back and use for his experiments. As the flames engulfed the wood and burned it all to ash, Michael couldn’t help but stare at Alex, at the bright orange and yellow reflected in his eyes, the moon above casting him in silver. He looked untouchable, like a reflection of moonlight in water that if disrupted would disappear, and never return the same. Maybe he had already changed. Michael wondered if it was him who had rippled the water and started the transformation.

               “What did he tell you?” Kyle asked, breaking the silence as the last of the flames died away and the three were left staring at nothing but ash and rubble.

               Alex was silent for a moment, then, “Nothing important,” and left it at that. The drive back was quiet, no one felt like making jokes or talking about what had happened or what should be done next. Michael was dropped off first, and he very nearly asked Alex to spend the night, but the airman had shut down, his gaze faced ahead, his hand on his wrist, deep in his thoughts where Michael knew it was pointless to try and follow.

               He watched Kyle drive away, and though he knew Alex wouldn’t look back at him as they left, he felt the disappointment flood his chest regardless.

               Kyle parked in front of the cabin, and sighed, “What’d the freak tell you? Really?”

               “You heard him,” Alex said, though it felt as if someone else were saying the words, and he was watching from a distance. “Everyone will leave.” He shook his head, trying to regain his thoughts. What’s happening to me? “He was just trying to psych me out.”

               “Yeah, he was,” Kyle said, his voice steady, his eyes on Alex even more so. “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

               And Alex wanted to believe him. He should’ve just said he did, but the look in Michael’s eyes still followed him, the words he’d said when he’d left Alex behind. He had been haunted by Alex’s family name; how could Alex blame him for leaving?

               “Maybe you won’t have a choice,” he confessed in a whisper.

               “I really mean that much to you?” Kyle asked hesitantly, as if he could never really have believed that Alex had ever forgiven him.

               Alex felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, his voice softening to his own ears as he said, “You really do.”

               Kyle looked like he wanted to say something, to reassure Alex in some way, but Alex was too clever, and too rational. He couldn’t take any more empty promises for the night, and couldn’t handle another second of Kyle’s concerned gaze. So he forced the best comforting smile he could.

               “Like I said, the guy was a psychopath. Try not to think about him too much,” he said, and clapped Kyle on the back before opening his car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               “Yeah,” was all Kyle said, though the doubt was evident on his face. Alex raised his hand in farewell, and headed into his home without looking back at Kyle. He stood against his door until he heard Kyle’s car pull out of the driveway, and away from the cabin.

               Then he went down to the bunker under his home where he had first discovered Jim’s hidden treasure. He had long since rebuilt the wall he had broken down, creating instead a loose panel that he could slide out, and he pulled out what felt like a thick piece of glass. He could still feel the old man’s tight grip on his wrist, his beady eye searching Alex’s face, his smile wide and taunting as he said, “There’s a reason we aren’t meant to touch things from another world, Alex.”

               Alex watched as his fingerprints left the glass glowing, symbols lighting up at the faintest touch. He felt a strong pulse beneath his skin and winced. Without letting go of the glass, he pulled back his sleeve and found that on a small patch of his skin, his veins had turned to a deep shade of purple, gold, pink, and orange – the same colors of the spaceship piece itself.

***

I don’t know how spooky this is (I don’t have too much experience writing spooky stories), but I really wanted to participate in this All Hallows October challenge by @rnmhalloween (Is it a challenge? I’ll just pretend it is). I like to think that my writing style’s improved in the time that I’ve been gone, with all the reading and writing and work I’ve done to actually improve it, but maybe I’m just biased. Either way, I really enjoyed getting back into malex fanfics, and I can’t wait to post more of them (and kylex fics) soon 💗