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lokischocolatefountain · 7 months

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1. For Old Time’s Sake || Red Tape, Red Line

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: G (check ratings for each chapter)

Word count: 3.4k words

Summary: Javier runs into an old friend in DC.

A/N: Javier for Day 3! Thanks for the love for the last two fics. Here’s more and here’s my favorite- Javi. I do have a series of him in my Married!Javi fics. Buuuut, it doesn’t follow a chronological order. Unlike that, I’m trying to have a coherent storyline here. Writing a linear story happens to be my downfall so I’m gonna wait and see how this pans out. Hope you like the first instalment of this story!

Wallet, keys, ID, gun, badge.

He froze with his hand on the hotel side table holding only a generic lamp after he’d taken his possessions- wallet, keys, ID. There was no gun to slip into the back of his pants and no badge to strap on to his belt. After eight years of the routine, he’d grown used to the metal digging into his lower back, used to the danger it possessed and the illusion of safety it gave him.

When he’d woken up that night from an imagined bullet to his chest, he reached for it on the same table, his heart seizing up when he found it empty. The quiet streets of DC and the streetlights pouring in through the window helped ground him, told him where he was. He’d taken to repeating the mantra that had been helping him come to after his nightmares. You’re home. It’s over. You’re home. It’s over.

As he slipped into his suit jacket, he wondered if the mantra was even true anymore. When he told himself that it was over and he was home, did he mean the states? Because DC wasn’t home. But was the US home anymore? Laredo? Bogotá? Shit, if it wasn’t the first three, it definitely wasn’t that last one.

He bent down and pulled his suitcase out from under the bed, hand slipping inside to retrieve the red pack of Marlboros he stored inside. Everything was perfectly packed- shirts and pants ironed perfectly, socks rolled up and underwear folded neatly. With everything else in chaos in his life, this bit of orderliness brought him comfort. He once took some pride in how well he could pack his life up within minutes. Not since that hijo de puta rubbed in his face that despite his shit lifestyle, he had a wife and children to go home to. A family man, he’d called himself.

While he couldn’t even look his dad in the eye or bring himself to visit mom’s grave, men like Berna took themselves home to wives and children every night. It must need some level of delusion to be able to do so.

It wasn’t over. Nothing was over. He’d been fired- well, he resigned. Columbia was supposed to be behind him, but there was still work to be done, paperwork to write up, politicians to schmooze. As the day passed, he was passed around from desk to desk, bureaucrat to bureaucrat, all praising him or letting him know just how hard he’d made their lives. State, Defense, DOJ, CIA, the fucking White House— Javi of the past with the hot blood, wide eyes and the need to prove himself would be ecstatic to know where he’d land up in the future. He wouldn’t be too pleased with the journey, though.

He’d won.

At least that was what the ambassador had said. But it didn’t feel like it. While he’d grown up and let the cynicism of life get to him, there was still that younger Javi taking up too much space in his head, telling him that he had failed in what he’d set off to do and sold his soul in the process. That the last eight years had all been for naught. I went after Medellin and Cali and all I have to show for it is the fucking nightmares. Now that would make for a wonderful print on a t-shirt.

“Good afternoon, how may I help?”

“I have an appointment with The Assistant to the Chief of Staff. I’m Javier Peña,” he said, sliding his ID across the rich mahogany desk to the woman. She took his ID, checked her computer, his face, the ID, repeated the process and then slid the ID back to him.

“Mr. Peña, Mr. Reed is in another meeting right now, but he’ll be happy to see you once it’s over. I can direct you to our waiting room.”

Great.

He smiled, nodded and followed the woman through the state department his eyes roving over the workers as he wondered how many of them had to stay late nights to fuck up the progress he and his fellow agents made on the field. How many of them typed up letters from the Secretary of State with directives to back the fuck off right when he was about to nab a valuable target. How many of them were assigned to Colombia, how many to other countries where they played around in their own interests.

He’d always held these people with contempt and not much had changed. They got to sit in their cushy office with the nicest computers and air conditioning while he and his colleagues chased goons in the streets of a foreign country. These couch potatoes who wrote condemnations and pulled visas and told them how to do their fucking job as though they knew what it was like to have a kid threatening to kill you with a hand that was too small to be wrapped around a gun if you didn’t drop your own.

Did any of these people think about men like him? Think about what it was like when you lost yet another partner and had to live with the image of him bleeding out on the road as you woke up from yet another nightmare with yet another realization of what you should’ve done to save his life in that moment.

They did not, he decided when the clock ticked and ticked but there was no word for him. The receptionist came by once or twice to apologize on her boss’s behalf and offer him coffee. Coffee to add to his sleep deprivation? No thank you.

He politely declined both times, willing himself to not take his anger out on the poor woman. She was just doing her job.

When the clock hit six, he got off his chair and stepped out of the waiting room. He’d known frustration. More often than not, he was left clutching his head in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other as his lungs burned from the cigarette between his lips as another step in his mission failed spectacularly. He knew frustration, but nothing like this brand of idle frustration where you had nothing to do but sit on an uncomfortable chair in the office of some prick who got paid more money a year than he would make in his entire life for doing fucking nothing.

So much for being a hero.

“Javier?”

He stopped outside the elevator door, turning around to see the face that called out his name.

Goddamn.

Her name slipped out through his lips, his tongue rolling around with as much practiced ease as it had done all those years ago. She looked exactly the same, yet completely different. Slightly taller as she walked up to him with the same smile, lips painted a deep red. Her hair was down instead of up in a bun. Her eyes gleamed with the same light he’d found in them over a decade ago. Although there was a new addition— crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. She’d exchanged the more practical field uniform for a nice blouse and skirt. A matching jacket hung off her arm and her hand was wrapped around the handles of a handbag.

“What are you doing here?” They asked at the same time. They exchanged smiles and he followed as she lead him into the elevator.

“I was supposed to meet someone. A Mr. Reed.”

“Ah. He wasn’t here for most of the day. Some fire to put out.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Did they have you waiting the whole day?” She asked, removing the lanyard with her ID. She hissed when it caught in her hair and he stepped in, untangling the thing from her hair and taking it off for her. He took the card between her fingers and read her name out loud.

“Policy Analyst. Damn, Glasses,” he trailed, using her nickname from their time in Quantico. “You really did get yourself the nerdiest job. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

He handed her ID back to her and she shoved it into her bag, smiling at her nickname rather than shoving him like she used to. Or threatening to tell on him to their training officer. “Alright, Pissy Pants Peña. You got me.”

He let out a laugh at her rebuttal. The name surprised him just as it had the first time she used it against him in a moment of weakness even though she’d claimed that nicknames were “so unprofessional and rude. I will not call my fellow trainees rude names just to look cool around other trainees.” The first time was when he’d aggravated her more than usual and she spat out the name he’d earned when he had so much to drink that he pissed his pants.

“Are you free to grab a drink? It’ll be nice to catch up,” he asked, hopeful that a drink with an old friend would make his terrible day a little less terrible.

“As long as you don’t piss your pants,” she joked, lips curving up in an easy smile before she gave him a clear yes.

She took him to a nearby bar, a favorite of the State Department staff, she said. Many recognized her there, including the bartender who asked her if she’d like her usual.

“You don’t do tequila shots anymore, I’m guessing.”

“Ah, no,” he chuckled, thinking back to his training days when they went out and got drunk on the rare days off from their intensive routine. “These days, I—”

“Whiskey?”

“Yeah. How did you guess?”

“You look like a whiskey man. I can just picture you sitting in a dark corner of a bar, all alone and serious, avoiding paperwork or thinking about how to bend the rules.”

“Oh? That so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, sipping on her glass of red wine. She was always a wine drinker. A wine snob, one might say. She did that little swirl that wine drinkers did, took a whiff of the drink and then a small sip.

“Is that part of your job as policy analyst? Analyzing lonely men in bars and guessing what’s in their heads…”

“No, but I’ve had to creep on lonely men drinking their whiskeys in my last job.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“CIA Operative.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. She didn’t seem the CIA type. But then again, it could be his generally positive regard for her and negative regard for the CIA that made it hard for him to imagine her being part of those bastards.

“And you left because?”

“I found out that I had to do things I didn’t want to do in order to survive in the CIA. Didn’t have the stomach for it. I thought that if I just followed all the rules and did my job, I could succeed, but…” she sighed before taking a sip of her drink. “I learned that doing the right thing and doing my job contradicted each other a bit too much.”

Under the dim light that hung above her head, she didn’t look as naïve as she used to. Following every little rule will get you nowhere, Glasses. He’d made fun of her for it several times, told her she didn’t know what the real world was like, that she was in for a big shock. Little did he know that he would be in for just as much shock if not more. While she was intent on doing everything by the book, she at least knew that certain things could never change. Her ambitions weren’t too big. While he and their other classmates talked big about changing the fucking world, she said she just wanted to do her part, just help things along. She saw the nuts and bolts of the machine, know how the gears turned and pointed to every mechanism that would stop him from realizing his lofty dream of “winning the war on drugs, baby!”

“There is no war. It’s just money and politics and even more money. And a fuckload of racism.”

Javi of the past chided her for her cynicism, but if she told him that now, he would buy her a drink.

“Oh and there was the time I got shot, so I can’t really be on the field anymore. My insides are too messed up,” she said, moving the fabric of her shirt aside to reveal a healed bullet wound peeking out from under her bra strap. “Guadalajara. And this is just one of seven. The guy was a terrible shot, though. And my surgeon was fucking amazing, so I live to tell the tale.”

“A lot has happened, huh?” He remarked, considering her wound carefully as he wondered where the other six bullets had hit her body. The knowledge that she’d look completely different underneath her clothes compared to what he remembered covering in kisses infuriated him. He needed to relearn the body he should’ve taken more time to learn. To strip the proper clothing off her and acquaint himself with what was new and reacquaint himself with the familiar. Would he even remember what was new? Was the one time enough for him to register her in his mind?

“Hmm yeah. A lot. Like your work with the cartels. You and your guys always found a way to get on our nerves in State.”

“Oh?” He feigned innocence. “I didn’t know I was pissing you off, Glasses. I’m sorry.”

“Aww, he’s sorry. Don’t even try me, Peña. It was almost like you and what’s the other guy’s name…? Murphy? Like you two were fucking shit up just to get on my nerves. And then Duffy and Lopez. Duffy always pissed me off, but then he and Lopez had to go have their faces plastered on the papers. I thought it was just some other Javier Peña but then that happened and I was sure it was you.”

“I didn’t ask Duffy and Lopez to do that, I swear. They did that all on their own.”

“Really? I knew you and Duffy were close back in the day. And it looked like something you would do, breaking the rules like that.”

“Now give me some credit, hermosa. Maybe I’ve learned to follow the rules a little in the past few years.”

“As one of the people who had to put out the fires you started, I’ll have to disagree respectfully.”

“I’m surprised I have your respect now. I didn’t have a modicum of that back then.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I had some respect for you.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. You always…you wanted to do the right thing. We have differences of opinion on what the right thing was, but you always wanted to choose the option that would do the most good. I always admired that.”

“I’m not that person anymore.” He was the man who lied to his agents that the Ambassador did not prioritize the safety of their Cali insider. He was the man who got into bed with Los Pepes and did it again to rescue Christina Jurado. Whatever good she’d seen in him fizzled away the moment things got hard for him. He wondered how she would’ve done it. Had he been the type to follow rules like her, would he have kept his soul intact?

“I’m not surprised. I’m not the same person either. No glasses for one,” she joked, getting a light chuckle out of him. Her light demeanor dulled just a little and he could see through her eyes some kind of darkness that wasn’t there before.

“Things are rarely as we expect when we’re at the heart of the problem. Making the right choice is more…complex because— we have to choose between option that will all hurt people terribly in one way or the other.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink, his mind reeling with all the times he needed to make decisions like that. They tended to be a lot more complex that he imagined when he was young and idealistic.

“Job like that, if it doesn’t change you, are you even human?”

“Right,” he said, not fully agreeing with the sentiment. The standards were completely different for the two of them. Sure, she would’ve faced those choices in the CIA. But she left. Long ago, he assumed, from her senior position at the State Department.

Whatever she had to do as CIA operative, it made her leave. Unlike him, she had the moral clarity to do it as early as she did. She looked more at ease now.

Maybe it was the fact that she had a cushy office job now, but the perpetual tension in her shoulders was missing. He’d prefer her version of change to his. Perhaps he should take up an office job, be relaxed, sit back at a desk and attend meetings about when to have meetings. His body sure couldn’t handle the field anymore. His knees and ankles still felt his jump from a balcony when he chased Jurado in Curaçao.

As much as he liked condemning himself to hell for his sins, as much as he liked withering away in shame when people heaped him with praises, it felt good to be on the receiving end of her empathy. The job did change everyone. If Glasses, the goody two shoes, stickler for the rules, ultimate teacher’s pet could understand that… Maybe he should too. If the field had changed someone like her, of course it changed him.

“So, umm… it’s getting late,” she said, looking up from her watch. “I have a rule about not having more than two drinks and,” she held up her second glass, half a sip of red wine resting in the bottom. “I had an early day today and will have an earlier day tomorrow. I got a meeting.”

Shoulders slumped, he nodded at her slowly. He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want to lose the piece of a much calmer past. “It was great seeing you again, Glasses.”

“Likewise, Triple P.”

He tilted his head to one side, smiling at the new nickname. “Pissy Pants Peña is quite the mouthful, so… And it would be weird if my bosses heard it. We aren’t in our early twenties anymore and stupid shit like this could ruin a career.”

“Well, I no longer have a career to be ruined, so… But thanks anyway,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Nah ah ah,” she said in a sing-song voice, reaching into her bag. “You’re in my city, I’m not letting you pay. It’s bad manners.”

“Is it now?” he said, sliding a wad of cash across the bar to the bartender. “Is that one of your rules?”

“It is. You’re a guest in D.C. and it’s poor hospitality to not buy you a drink,” she said before turning to the bartender. “Josh, don’t take his money,” she said, handing the man some dollar bills from her purse. Josh ignored Javier’s money and took hers instead, alluding to whatever loyalty he had for her. She did say that the place was a State Department favorite. It made sense that she was on a first name basis with the guy.

He thumbed his mustache, the bristles scratching his finger gently. “What if I have a rule about that? That it’s poor manners to make a beautiful woman pay for her drinks and mine…”

“Then I’d expect you to say thank you for aiding you in your rule-breaking. I know how you love to do that.”

He grinned and licked his lips slowly, taking her in as she walked ahead of him. She never wore clothes like that before, pencil skirts that hugged her ass and high heeled shoes that made her hips sway in the most mesmerizing rhythm. As though feeling his stare, she turned around suddenly, making his head whip up so fast he could’ve broken his neck. Or it was just his old age.

“So, umm…Lunch sometime? We could continue this conversation,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Or not!” She added quickly. Painted fingernails scratched at each other, chipping away at the already lightly chipped red paint. “I know you’re really busy.”

“Never too busy for you, Glasses. Drinks again tomorrow night?”

“Yup. I’ll see you here at 6:30? If my schedule doesn’t change too much, that is.”

“6:30 is good.”

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andydrysdalerogers · 6 months

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The Type You Save ~ N I N E

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: E I G H T

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Sunlight danced over the bed, waking James up from his slumber. Was last night a dream? He thought to himself. But he looked over to see a tousle of mahogany hair sleeping next to him. He smiled. She’s back. She’s here with me. He gently moved the hair off of Alex’s face. She’s beautiful. He placed a ghost of a kiss on her lips before making his way to the bathroom. After he headed to the kitchen to make her coffee.

Alex slowly started to waken to the smell of coffee. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times before looking over to the other side of the bed. It was empty but still warm. She sat up, using the sheet to cover herself. “Jamie?” She called out.

He walked back in with nothing but boxer briefs on. “Hey Allie, baby. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Its ok. Is that coffee?”

“Yeah, still two sugars and a touch of cream, right?”

“Perfect.” He handed her a mug. She hummed as she took a sip. “You are still good at that.”

“Making coffee? Have to be, doll. Otherwise, it’s up to Steve.” She giggled.

“You know we didn’t talk a lot.” Alex tilted her head. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

James sighed. “I know. And we will. But,” he put his cup down, “we still have a little bit of time before we have to get Drew.”

“And what did you have in mind?” Alex asked, her voice husky.

James took the cup from her hands and placed it down on the table. “We could keep making up for lost time. I know you’re still naked under there.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She moved to climb out of the bed but James tugged her back and pulled her to the middle of the bed. Alex laughed as James began to kiss her neck and collar bone.

“Don’t be a tease, Alexandra. It’s not nice,” he growled. He captured her lips, hard, as he pressed his member on her core. She moaned at the touch, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting her.

“Fuck Jamie.” She gasped as he continued to grind on top of her.

“God, it’s such a turn on when you talk like a bad girl.” He hitched up her leg over his waist. Alex arched her back as he pressed his length into her, groaning with need.

“Please baby, just fuck me.” She dug her nails into his arm, earning herself a hiss from him.

“Such a dirty little girl.” He pushed his boxers down and teased her, listening to her whine. He could feel her wetness and pushed in hard. “Fuck! So tight.” He started to pump into her slowly but deep, making sure he hit her sweet spot.

“Jamie! Jamie, god, don’t stop.” Alex could feel herself getting closer and closer.

“I’m never stopping. I love this pussy, sucking me in, gripping me,” James grunted. He flipped them over. “Ride me doll.” Alex started to swivel her hips and then bounce, watching the waves of pleasure cross his face. She could feel him in her stomach and wanted more.

She bent down to him for a moment. “This dick is mine,” she whispered and saw him smile as she raised herself back up. She bounced down harder on him, listening to him moan.

“Fuck doll. Please be close.” He started to rub her clit, the moans coming from her mouth that would make a sinner blush. She started to lose her composure and he flipped them again, gripping her hips. “Allie,” he moaned as he felt her orgasm.

“Jamie!” She cried as she felt him release into her. He slowed to a stop but still inside her.

“I could get used to this,” he chuckled.

“Wrecking me every morning? Good luck with that and a toddler,” she replied, eyes sparkling as she took in his beautiful face.

“Looking at me like that won’t help,” he whispered as he kissed her while he slipped out. He laid down and pulled her into his chest. “Don’t think I need coffee anymore.”

“Ha! I do. But in a minute.” She snuggled into his chest. “I’m comfy right now.” They laid next to each other until they heard the front door open.

“Bucky! Alex! Please be decent!”

“How did Steve come back? Wait, Drew!” Alex and James started to scramble for their clothes.

“Mama! Daddy! Hug!” A tiny voice floated into the room.

“Oh thank god,” Alex slumped back on the bed. James sat next to her with his head in his hands.

“Doll, why do I feel like I just ran a mile in four minutes?”

“It’s called parent panic. Seriously, it’s the worse.” Alex sat up and grabbed her phone.

A: We will be out in a minute. S: take your time. I got him some juice. A: Thank Steve

“He’s got some juice and cartoons from what I can hear,” Alex said. “Baby,” as she rubbed James’s back. “Its ok. He’s safe.”

He lifted his head, the glistening of a tear in his eyes. “I didn’t know it would kick in like this. I really need to see him.”

“Ok baby. Let’s get dressed.” She stood up and offered her hand. He took it and they walked to the closet. Alex found her clothes, still fitting her, and got dressed, pulling her hair into a ponytail. James had jeans on but was distracted by his phone. He was frowning. “Jamie?”

“Sorry, I was just messaging my chief that I had a family emergency. So, I could take the day with you and Drew.” He looked up and saw Alex staring at him. “What?”

“I thought I was dreaming last night but,” she ran a hand over his stomach, “do you have more abs?” She licked her lips.

He chuckled and grabbed her hand to stop her. He brought it up to his lips and kissed her palm. “Later, my love.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He let go and pulled a shirt over his head. “C’mon. Breakfast?”

“Sure.” They grabbed their mugs and left the room to find Drew laying against Steve on his lap. Drew sat up when he saw his parents. “Mama! Daddy! You’re here!”

“Hi baby boy.” Alex reached for him and pulled him into her arms.

“Mama! Hug for daddy!” Drew squealed as he squirmed to be released. She handed him off to James, who hugged him hard.

“Jamie, breathe. He’s ok.”

“Yeah, I know. Ok. Sorry Chief. I missed you.”

“Miss you more,” Drew replied with a giggle. “Hungry!”

“I’m on it,” Steve said. He got up to get into the kitchen.

“Steve, how did you get here?” James asked.

“Oh, well Alex left her keys at her place. And I figured it would be better to bring her car since I need to head to work in a couple of hours. Plus, Drew was crying for you guys.” Steve shrugged. “We did fine last night.”

“Its fine Stevie,” Alex rubbing his arm. “Thank you for staying with him.” She looked at him with puppy eyes. “Pancakes?”

“For my best girl, always.” Steve kissed Alex’s forehead. “But you know Drew is my favorite now right?”

“I have literally been replaced.” She looked over to James and Drew, playing on the floor. “You sure you’re ok with us moving in?”

“Absolutely. The middle room can be for Drew so we can all hear him if something happens.” Steve was mixing. “Did you guys talk?”

“Some. Still have lots to talk about. Like why there is a scar on his arm. And why you are running into the rooms without protection. You know things like that.”

“Really? You are going to take the word of that…”

“Oh, choose your words carefully Rogers.”

“Lady, is what I was going to say. Lady, ok? It’s a report, not the truth.” Steve’s cheeks turned pink.

“Liar.” Alex smiled. “Parker wrote it right?”

“How do you know that?”

“The way she said it. You never rush. And Parker has always wanted to be one of the boys so I assume he wrote it to make you look like a badass.”

“That’s what I told Bucky but he didn’t believe me. Doesn’t matter anymore. That kid moved to Queen on some special undercover crap. We’ll talk about everything, promise but for now set the table.”

It felt normal again, to be sitting at the table with her boys. James was a natural, getting some pillows for Drew to sit on so he could reach, cutting up his pancakes. For the first time, Alex felt home.

“So when are we moving you Alex?” Steve asked with a sip of his coffee.

“I have to pack.”

“Not really, we have everything here minus Drew’s stuff,” James pointed out. “Just need what you want.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a furnished apartment? I did buy it.”

“You bought the apartment?” James looked surprised. “How? You don’t have any identification or a bank account.”

“Well, technically it belongs to Wanda but I gave her the money for it. Once we sort out my ID stuff, we can take it back.”

“Then we could rent it out. Make a little money from it.” James smiled. “So a week?”

Alex looked at her phone. It was Saturday. “I guess a week.”

One week later…

“Just how many shoes do you own woman?” James asked as he carried up the box.

“Enough,” Alex replied as she carried up a box of Drew’s toys.

“Enough my ass. Your shopping addiction is the worst Alexandra.” James huffed as he dropped the box into his closet. Their closest, he reminded himself with a smile.

“Yeah, like you’re not obsessed with clothes Barnes.” Alex put her box into Drew’s new room. Steve and James had reassembled his furniture that morning while Drew was with Nat and Wanda. His little bed already had his dinosaur sheets on it with a new dino teddy on it.

The apartment was rented out for the end of the month, and it was more than enough to cover the mortgage. Wanda and Nat agreed to be the landlords for it for security reason. The only items that were placed in storage was the bed and some personal items that Alex wasn’t willing to part with yet. Otherwise, as of today, she and Drew were officially moved in with James and Steve.

“Hey doll?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Sam wants to video conference us on Monday.”

“You told him?!”

“He’s the former district attorney Allie. We need to make sure your name is clear so we can get it changed and get you issued a proper ID. We talked about this.”

“Sorry.” Alex concentrated on putting away the toys. “It’s the criminal instinct that kicked in.”

James sighed and bowed his head. “Alex, you have to let that go.”

“I know.” Alex stood up and wrapped her arms around James. He held her and kissed her head. “Love you.”

“Love you too doll. Won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”

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#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #the type you save #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x ofc #Steve rogers #detective AU #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut

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do-it-jakey-baby · 16 days

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Dreams in Ink

Danny Wagner x f!reader

Synopsis: Danny has booked in to get his third tattoo with a very sentimental reason behind it.

Warnings: mentions of needles, tattooing

A/N: This was a special request for one of my pookie’s birthdays!! HBD my gorge baby g, this one’s for youuuuu. 🎂🫶🏻

Today was the day.

Even though he’d done this twice before, the nerves still gnawed away at him. But what better way to commemorate playing at the Royal Albert Hall than getting a new tattoo? He and his brothers had dreamed about this moment since the inception of Greta Van Fleet, and now it was actually happening. So many years had been spent preparing for this very moment, they were all truly grateful for the opportunity and determined to make it a night to remember.

The band’s assistant had taken care of the booking, Danny explaining what he wanted and letting her do her thing. She’d found a cute little studio, not too far from their hotel. All he needed to do was show up, which alleviated some of the stress of the experience they were about to embark on. The entire band loved being in London, the city was so vibrant and the fans were just as passionate as back home in the States.

Following his usual morning routine, he stepped out of the shower and took great care when it came to his bouncy curls. He’d learnt along the way to use a cotton t-shirt to dry them, plopping them on top of his head as he got ready for the day. He then raked his hands through the curls and applied a gel to set them, scrunching up through the ends to the base. Once he was happy with the form of his ringlets, he grabbed his room key and headed out. Usually, his brothers would tag along to the studio, but today they were all feeling the effects of the pub that they situated the evening before, so a member of the security team was his only company. They arrived at the studio five minutes early, Danny’s palms beginning to sweat with anticipation. A bubbly, bright eyed girl with long, blonde hair approached him as he walked in through the door.

“Hi there, do you have an appointment?” She smiled, showcasing her pearly white teeth.

“Hi, yes. Daniel Wagner, my appointment is at 10.”

“Fantastic, if you could just fill out this form for me and I’ll let Y/N know you’re here. She’ll be over to show you the design in a minute.”

Danny filled the form out and gave it back to the girl, then took a seat in the waiting area.

A few moments later, the tattoo artist made her way through the thick, forest green velvet curtains that separated the reception from the main studio. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, with her silky, mahogany hair and cherry red lips.

“Daniel, right?” She asked, squatting down in front of him with her iPad in hand.

“Uh, yeah. But you can call me Danny, if you like. Most people do.” He wanted to smack the heel of his hand into his skull, why was he getting so flustered?

“Ok, well hi Danny. I’m Y/N. I’ve got the design here, if you wanna have a look and let me know if it’s what you had in mind.” She flipped the screen around in her hands and held it out to him.

He’d chosen the outline of the Royal Albert Hall. It seemed fitting, given the importance that playing there held in his heart. He peered down at the screen, noting that the design was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“That’s perfect!”

“And we’re going on your wrist?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Fab! Ok then, I’ll get the stencil sorted and then we can get started.”

With that, she stood up and walked back through the curtain, the smell of her perfume wafting through the breeze as she moved past him. It was such an alluring fragrance, subtly sexy but warm. It reminded Danny of a summer night back in Nashville, sat around a campfire with a glass of whiskey in hand. It smelt like home. In fact, he’d been so fixated from it since the moment she’d left that he hadn’t even noticed his name being called.

“Danny? You ready? Not having second thoughts now, are we?” She chuckled. Oh god, her laugh was so musical, the sweetest melody.

“Yeah, sorry... Lost in thought.”

“Come on back, let’s get you stencilled up.”

He entered through the curtains with her, walking out into a relatively small, but homely studio space. There was another artist at work in their own booth, a partition dividing the two spaces for client privacy.

“Ok, so I’ve printed out three sizes, so if you take them over to that mirror and try them on for size. Once you’ve picked the size you like, I’ll pop it on for you.”

Danny approached the mirror and held the three sizes up to his arm, deciding on the smallest of the three. The artist then shaved his arm and applied the stencil solution, then pressed the stencil down onto his wrist. She carefully peeled it off, urging him to go and take one more look before she began. Happy with the size and placement, Danny laid down on the couch and extended his arm out to lay on the rest. She slipped into her latex gloves, then took a seat on her stool.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, a little nervous though. This is my third tattoo, but it’s still pretty daunting.” He let out a nervous laugh, which brought a smile to her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” She winks.

She dips her machine into the small pot of ink, then stretches the skin of his wrist between her finger and thumb. She leans in, her breath tickling along his skin, causing his breath to hitch right at the moment the needle makes contact. She pulls back, her eyes clapping onto Danny’s.

“Are you ok? Was that too much?”

“No, no. Sorry, carry on. I’m all good.”

She rubs her hand across his arm, trying her best to soothe his nerves. He can tell that she genuinely cares about her clients, which is incredibly endearing.

“As long as you’re sure. I can help take your mind off it if you want? Tell me why you chose the design.”

She goes back to her position and begins to etch the line work into his skin, giving him occasional reassuring glances and listening intently as he explains the meaning behind the tattoo.

“Well, me and my brothers are playing at the Royal Albert Hall tomorrow night. It’s been a huge dream of ours for the longest time, so it’s extremely sentimental.”

“Wow, you’re playing there? You must be pretty big, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.” He chuckles.

“Tell me about your band. It’s so cool that you’re getting to live your dream.” She grins.

“Well, I’ve known the guys for what seems like my whole life. They are blood brothers, but really we’re all brothers. They are my best friends, such an amazing bunch of guys. Sam was my best friend growing up, we were practically attached at the hip. Still are. Josh and Jake are twins, a few years older than Sam and I. Jake’s dream was always to start a band, so the rest of us just kinda went with it. Music has been such a big part of our lives, we’re so influenced by it. It great that we now get to influence people too.”

“Danny, that’s amazing! It sounds like you guys are really close, getting to do what you love with them must be so fulfilling.”

“Yeah, it really is. I get to travel the world with them, explore countries we’d have never got to see if it wasn’t for the band. We’ve actually just finished up the Europe leg of our world tour. Next stop is North America again, then we go onto Japan, Australia, and New Zealand.”

“Damn! Ok I’m gunna need to know the name of your band, sounds like I have some listening to do.”

“It’s Greta Van Fleet, but please don’t feel obliged!”

“If you’re good enough to tour the world, I’m sure you’re good enough for me.”

She finishes up the rest of the tattoo, wiping down his wrist with cooling green soap which is gratefully received.

“So, what do you think?”

“I love it, thank you so much. And thanks for chatting with me, it really did take my mind off it.”

“Anytime.” She gives him a sweet smile. “Here’s a sheet with some aftercare information on it. It was lovely meeting you, Danny. I hope the show goes well tomorrow.”

“Likewise, you made me feel so comfortable today. It really was a pleasure, Y/N.”

She blushes slightly, then composes herself, running her hands through her hair.

Fuck it. Here goes nothing…

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, in fact please don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I had a lot of fun chatting with you, and I’m free this evening. If you don’t have plans, would you want to come out for a drink with me?”

She mulls it over for a minute, the cogs turning in her head.

“Yeah… sure. I don’t usually accept offers from clients, but something’s telling me you’re different. Here’s my business card, shoot me a text.”

Danny holds the card in his hand, looking down at it. He smiles, then looks back up.

“Great. I will. I’ll see you later? Thanks again for today.”

“Yeah, see you later, Danny.”

#danny wagner x you #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner #daniel wagner #fluff #greta van fic #danny gvf #danny lane #Danny Greta van fleet #daniel gvf #gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fluff

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echantedtoon · 2 months

Text

Waning Obsession Ch12 Where We Go

(Warnings: mentions of killing, etc.

Important Info here on our most of the rest of the chapters might be mostly in Kokushibo's pov. Also this chapter will also be a bit shorter than the others.)

The rain showered down from above. The droplets hitting the trees. Seeping into the cracks in their bark and dripping from the leaves down to meet the wet ground. Usually rain was very peaceful. Sometimes even scary. But for now it was very cold.

Both literally in temperature and in sorrow.

He rarely if ever paid attention to the coldness of late autumn around him. He was far used to the sting of cold and the numbness of ice against his skin. His body had been hardened by years of brutal training to ensure that he never let it cross his mind as nothing but a passing thought and nothing more. Hands have gone numb in the cold. Calloused by hardened souls and minds.

'Forget. You must forget what pain feels to you. Forget about what makes you feel pain. Do not let cold freeze you. Do not dare let fire burn you. Tired is not but a state of mind. Push on. You must block out what makes you weak. Do you wish to fail?'

A chestnut tree did not provide the best of shelters. The rain drip dropping from it's curling bars branches and running along golden brown leaves already about to fall. A single bead of water shined in the dim light and tumbled down down down from the rough bark. It's travel ended the moment it hit softened strands of mahogany hair. Running down the long strands going going going to the very ends. It's journey coming to a close as fabric swallowed it whole again. It's cold not getting to the one underneath the soft fabric.

'Block out emotions. You must make yourself invulnerable to any feelings. Emotions make you weak, Michikatsu. Fear causes hesitation. Anger irrational minds. Curiosity stupidity. Happiness creates distractions. Love..Love Is a liability. Liabilities are weaknesses. Weaknesses are FAILURES! You must learn nothing but rational thoughts. Use your mind to make decisions instead of emotions. Use everything you are taught to make the right choices. Only then will you truly be invincible.'

Movements shifted underneath. Warm. It was warm. And safe. Eyes opened to peer in numbed bliss. Her warmth was like a dagger being stabbed into his chest and twisting until the outside was pierced through to the inner most deep depths and injected with warmth he never knew existed. It was..

A D D I C T I N G

'Do as you're told. Become the ultimate weapon. This is your fate. Your destiny. The entire reason you were placed here.'

"..Fuck your destiny."

A hand caressed her head against his chest. Her breaths soft but consistent. Curled against him now satisfied that shadowed monster inside him. Content whenever he got what he wanted. Finally. He had what he needed. All right in his grasp. Everything is completed. He sighed heavily gripping her close. His lips grazed the top of her head, placing a small but warm kiss to her head.

HIS. This was his.

His life. His reason. His purpose. His love. His future wife. The woman who will be by his side. The one who will give him children. Y/n Tsugikuni. Haruhime was a name unworthy for her, but that was ok. It would be remedied soon enough. He loved her.

'Do you even know what love is?! You've never even experienced love! Your father treats you as nothing but the best option! He only values your strength and nothing more! Your mother barely knows her own son! And can your own twin really say he cares about you when you weren't even raised together?? Even your own people fear you! So how can you know what love is?!'

The eyes closed pressing further into her warmth. "No. Stop it."

'How do you even know that she loves you?! You destroyed her entire life in a matter of seconds because you were selfish and greedy! Even if she stays with you it's not out of love! It's only because she has no where else to go because you ruined everything just as you always do!'

"Your heart is beating irregular."

He froze. There was movement under his form and something pressed on his chest. So soft. Heart hammering away from where the palm pressed onto the skin. So warm. Her essence was intoxicating. Her touch scorching but burnt in a good way. He sighed in content. The thoughts were becoming too much.

"Let go."

"...What?"

"Let me go."

"It's cold. Your body needs warmth-"

"Michikatsu, let me go."

He flinched as her lips spoke his name. It wasn't so much her voice as it was her tone that had him flinch but the tone it was spoken with. It was demanding and blunt. Not suitable for a woman her size but it was one that demanded attention. One that convinced him to reluctantly release his hold and allow her to lean up and away from his hold. Her face rang all the emotions that he dreaded to see in her.

Deep hidden anger. Regret. Guilt maybe?? But mostly exhaustion and sadness.

A small wind had her shivering and pulling that sorry excuse for a coat tighter around her. He hated that old garb she had to wear just to keep warm. He'd gladly hold her and shield her from the elements but if he attempted to do that again now that she was awake, she'd only become angry at him again.

Turquoise eyes looked up at the dripping sky. "... It's raining. It sounds so.. peaceful." Her eyes did not again look back at him. "How long have we been traveling?"

"Five days."

"Where are you taking me?"

"There is a small campsite where my father is currently residing in. It's not proper for a woman, but I can arrange better accommodations for you from there."

Now she did look at him. Wide eyed in fear and shock. "Lord Tsugikuni?! You never said anything about having to meet him!"

"I must. By now he must be very angry with me." No doubt his father would be VERY angry indeed but he'd bare the anger for the long term results after.

"I don't want to go anywhere near the Tsugikunis."

"You can bare to be around me."

"That was before you revealed yourself as Michikatsu Tsugikuni." Her eyes narrowed. If they were knives. He'd be dead. "You lied to me. You've lied to me the entire time I've known you!"

"I've never lied!...I keep my true identity a secret for safety. Would it have made you see me differently if I had told you who I was?" She did not answer and that was the deadliest blow of all. "I see..My name usually comes in the form of hatred. Why must you hate my clan name so?"

"Your family is ruthless in ruling, and cruel in nature."

"My father's rule yes, but his actions are not my own." Please don't compare him to his father. Please do not hate him. Please don't leave him! She CANT leave him!! "You did not seem to believe me to be like him before."

"Perhaps I could have believed that you were not the same before you took the lives of two men in the same night you shared my home and my bedside."

This again. He never regretted his actions but he was regretting the hastiness of his actions. "I do not regret that night with you. In fact my time with you only solidified my fondness in having you."

Her frown deepened. "Do you regret your other actions then? Taking those mens' lives."

His answer was simple, blunt, quick. "No. I don't. If given the chance I'd do it over the chance." A single knuckle pressed to her cheek taking her by surprised. "If they had not threatened you then they would have survived."

..Her head turned and she leaned away. "You did not have to kill them."

"..One made you clean his home like a pig and cut your hand. The other threatened to harm you and could have killed you if that knife had been stabbed into your cheek." If that disgusting pig had stabbed forward instead of swiping right with that knife, then she could've died and been taken from him! "If I hadn't what else would they do to you?" The hand lowered. "Everything I do is for survival Whether it be survival for myself or someone else." He slowly stood up and she almost forgot about how tall and imposing he was. "Come. We should be there within a few hours shortly."

"And if I refuse to go?" Her pout was as adorable as it was annoying. Lips purses in a way that he wanted to taste their sweetness on him again. "Then what will you do."

"I'll carry you."

"You wouldn't dare. What if I don't want you anymore?"

She should not have challenged him. It took no effort to lift her up by the back of her kimono and toss her up bridal style within his arms. Her squeals and shocked face afterwards while settled in his arms.

"I'm afraid that is no longer an option. If our union did not already seal us then fate has."

You somehow managed to convince Koku-.. Michikatsu to put you down on your own feet, but somehow that didn't make things better. At some point he dropped the haori coat over your shoulders as the rain picked up like that was supposed to make it better. Five days. You both had been traveling on foot for five days at most counting today. Most of it had been spent in a numb blurry state. You'd lost how many hours you've walked and how many you actually slept. But you haven't been treated badly by him. Many times you were given water collected from a stream, and you hadn't gone hungry. Michikatsu as it turns out was quite the skilled hunter and was able to skewer a quail flying through the air with ease just by throwing his sword in the air and standing still in the water long and silent enough to snatch fish out of the water with his bare hands cooking everything his hands caught over a homemade fire. You got the impression that he does this a lot. Was that why he always took so well to your food?

The charm of the stoic but shy demon you liked was shattered along with your life all in one night. And you were a numb unsure mess just wondering aimlessly after him for now- You blinked out of whatever stupor you were in when he suddenly stopped and you ended up bumping into his back. Blinking you stared at his bare back before looking up to his head. He didn't say anything but stood still. For second there was nothing but the rain still dripping down from the sky with the occasional thunder clap, it had picked up a little bit while you both walked. Then he spoke.

"You have to listen to what I'm about to say very carefully." The blunt and deep tone in which he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. "There is a camp just past these trees. You are to stay by my side and not leave it. Do not speak to anyone. Do not look at anyone. And do not acknowledge they're there. The only reason you're here is because I have business and then we're leaving. Don't speak to my father unless he directly acknowledges you first which is unlikely. Am I clear?"

You gulped. "I-..Y-Yes."

"Good. ..I promise you once this is over we will discuss your situation more properly. For now do as your told."

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warrior-names · 8 months

Text

Warrior Prefixes: African / Ancestor Clans (LeopardClan, LionClan, & TigerClan)

Words that aren't derived from things in Africa aren't included; this list is made based on the Ancestor Clans and naming rules from the roleplay server Call of the Wild!

170+ prefixes under the cut!

Aardvark-

Aardwolf-

Acacia-

Addax-

Adder-

Albatross-

Alligator-

Aloe-

Amaranth-

Amaryllis-

Amra-

Anaconda-

Anise-

Antiaris-

Antelope-

Aphid-

Argan-

Artichoke-

Asparagus-

Aye-aye-

Babool-

Baboon-

Badger-

Bamboo-

Banana-

Baobab-

Barb-

Barberry-

Bat-

Bee-

Beetle-

Begonia-

Bindweed-

Boa-

Boar-

Bologi-

Bongo-

Bonobo-

Bontebok-

Boomslang-

Boxwood-

Brubru-

Buffalo-

Bushbuck-

Buzzard-

Camel-

Caper-

Caracal-

Caraway-

Castor-

Cherry-

Chimpanzee-

Cichlid-

Citrus-

Civet-

Clover-

Cobra-

Cocoa-

Coconut-

Coffea-

Crane-

Crocodile-

Dassie-

Desert-

Detar-

Dik-dik-

Dingo-

Dittany-

Duiker-

Eagle-

Eel-

Eland-

Elephant-

Fennec-

Fennel-

Fig-

Firefly-

Fossa-

Fraxinella-

Galega-

Gazania-

Gazelle-

Gelada-

Genet-

Geranium-

Gerenuk-

Ginger-

Giraffe-

Gorilla-

Gowé-

Guava-

Gum-

Gundi-

Hanza-

Hare-

Hartebeest-

Hawthorne-

Hedgehog-

Hippo-

Holly-

Hornbill-

Hyena-

Hyrax-

Ibis-

Impala-

Iris-

Ivory-

Ivy-

Jerboa-

Kalanchoe-

Kanna-

Khus-

Killi-

Knotgrass-

Kob-

Kokum-

Kola-

Kudu-

Lemur-

Liquorice-

Lily-

Loach-

Locust-

Macaque-

Mahaleb-

Mahogany-

Mamba-

Mandrill-

Marshmallow-

Marula-

Meerkat-

Melde-

Mitzeeri-

Mongoose-

Monkey-

Myrrh-

Nettle-

Nightshade-

Okapi-

Okra-

Oleander-

Olive-

Ostrich-

Pangolin-

Pea-

Peacock-

Penguin-

Periwinkle-

Plantain-

Plum-

Pomegranate-

Porcupine-

Python-

Ratel-

Redoul-

Rhinoceros-

Rooibos-

Roselle-

Sable-

Sambar-

Savannah-

Scarab-

Sedge-

Serval-

Shea-

Shoebill-

Shrew-

Sitatunga-

Springbok-

Spurge-

Tamarin-

Tapir-

Tilapia-

Topi-

Tortoise-

Tulip-

Turtle-

Vetiver-

Violet-

Viper-

Vulture-

Warthog-

Waterbuck-

Wildebeest-

Wolf-

Woodruff-

Wormwood-

Yak-

Yohimbe-

Zebra-

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 18 days

Text

Sleep Masterlist

2am (ao3) - cthink calum/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Calum can’t sleep.

That is, unless he’s with Ashton.

Beside You (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) michael/luke G, 1k

Summary: Michael sneaks into Luke's room while the blond is sleeping just so he can lie beside him.

Calum- No Sleep (ao3) - MichaelTheMicrophone G, 942

Summary: Calum can't sleep and it doesn't end well for him.

come back to bed ashton (ao3) - lxshton luke/ashton G, 770

Summary: luke just wants to cuddle and sleep, but ashton has things to do first.

crowning glory (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds G, 1k

Summary: It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side.

Fine Print - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton M, 61k

Summary: If Michael says Ashton Irwin will be a good bodyguard then sure, Luke will put his money on Ashton being a good bodyguard. Besides, all Luke needs is a shadow. So what if he doesn’t like him?

Who ever cared about liking their shadow anyway?

or the one where Luke is a heartbroken solo artist who can’t sleep and Ashton is his less-than-enthusiastic bodyguard

Hold on Tight (sleep, dream, you, repeat) (ao3) - gravityinglass ot4 T, 12k

Summary: When Luke fell asleep on his eighteenth birthday, he expected to Dream of his One, his soulmate. He wasn’t expecting to Dream of three Ones.

or, OT4 soulmate AU.

I Don’t Believe In Fairytales, But I Believe In You And Me (ao3) - BandanaBoyfriends Luke/Ashton T, 1k

Summary: Luke is uncomfortable being in such an unfamiliar place and he can’t sleep, so he turns to Ashton for help. Ashton makes Luke tea to help him sleep and they dance in the kitchen while the kettle boils.

if it’s all a dream, don’t wake up (ao3) - lifewasradical Michael/Calum G, 5k

Summary: Calum dreams of it all, but front and center, as always, is Michael, smiling and holding his hand through every scenario. Calum’s always sought out Michael in times of comfort, something he thinks will never change, regardless of how old they get and how many years they spend together.

Or, 5 times Michael tells Calum to go back to sleep and the one time Calum tells Michael to go back to sleep.

if my wall clock tells me that it’s 4 in the morning i’ll give it hell (ao3) - crankgameplays luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: basically writer!ashton with a small case of lukesomnia and artstudent!luke who also cant sleep and he draws ashton a lot okay its not his fault the boy has such a nice face, he /has/ to draw it.

Insomnia (ao3) - warpedsoul luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Ashton can't sleep because he can't stop thinking about Luke.

Mahogany Cuddles (ao3) - 1loulu5 Michael/Luke T, 1k

Summary: Sleep. What a foreign word.

Or, Luke can’t sleep, so Michael scents him to calm his omega.

Sleepless (ao3) - valiantnerd (arareads) T, 628

Summary: Maybe he hasn’t found the right fix, the right trick, the right lifestyle to let him sleep.

Ashton hasn’t slept well—if at all—in three weeks. It’s taking a toll on him.

Thunderstorms. (ao3) - unattached luke/calum G, 1k

Summary: There’s a thunderstorm and Luke can’t sleep, but it’s a good thing Calum is there to help him.

"You're like a kitten." (ao3) - bang_co (orphan_account) michael/luke G, 711

Summary: Luke just wants to sleep. Michael just wants his hair played with.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #masterlists #5sos fanfic #sleep #sleep masterlist

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antlermoss · 5 months

Text

I wanted to try my hand at a warrior OC generator. This one is pretty long, user beware! If you end up drawing or using them, please tag me, I would love to see them.

Welcome to the Beyond, friend, where souls are created and sent to the world below. It’s time to begin a new incarnation.

We’ll start with their name. Choose the first letter of your chosen name.

A - Antler

B - Bee

C - Coyote

D - Deer

E - Egret

F - Ferret

G - Golden

H - Hawthorn

I - Indigo

J - Jackdaw

K - Kite

L - Lily

M - Mossy

N - Newt

O - Oleander

P - Pine

Q - Quail

R - Robin

S - Silk

T - Tansy

U - Umber

V - Viper

W - Wolf

X - Ox

Y - Yarrow

Z - Zinnia

Good, this will be the cat’s prefix. Next, let’s choose their appearance. Choose your favorite season, then the month of your creation. (Up for interpretation, your birthday or any other date important to your identity.)

New-Leaf

January - White and Gray

February - White and Cream

March - Lilac

April - Fawn

May - Cinnamon

June - Ivory

July - Sand

August - Orange and white

September - Silver gray

October - Warm gray

November - Cool gray

December - White

Green-Leaf

January - Chestnut

February - Ash

March - Mahogany

April - Orange

May - Golden

June - Pale yellow

July - Gray and cream

August - Amber

September - Bronze

October - Copper

November - Fiery orange

December - White and yellow

Leaf-Fall

January - Taupe

February - Warm black

March - Copper

April - Bronze

May - Mahogany

June - Pine

July - Russet

August - Brown and orange

September - Black and cream

October - Orange and black

November - Black and White

December - Cool black

Leaf-Bare

January - Black and White

February - Cool silver

March - Stony blue

April - Lilac

May - Black and gray

June - Blue

July - Dark blue

August - Dark gray

September - Warm silver

October - Steely gray

November - White

December - Black

This will be their pelt color.

Next, Look to the skies. They will inform the cat's eye color.

Cloudy - Pale green

Sunny - Amber

Raining - Bright green

Storming - Vibrant yellow

Snowing - Blue

Sleet - Blue-gray

Foggy - Icy blue

Windy - Hazel

Raining while Sunny - One blue eye, one yellow.

Which temperature are you most comfortable at? This will determine the cat's coat length.

0 to 15 °C - Long fur

16 to 25 °C - Medium fur

26 to 37 °C - Short fur

The soul now has a body. It is time for its fate to be decided. The sky will inform your decision once more, look to the moon.

New moon - Healer - This cat will heal their clanmates

Crescent moon - Hunter - This cat will keep the clan well-fed and fight when necessary

Quarter moon - Camp keeper - This cat maintains the camp and cares for the kits

Gibbous moon - Warrior - This cat defends the borders and their clanmates

Full moon - Leader - This cat will lead the clan

Meteor Shower - Gifted - This cat is gifted with a strange ability from Starclan.

Hm? You wish to know of the position of "Deputy"? Fate cares not who holds that title if they are not to become a leader. Your cat is now Ambitious.

A cat's destiny informs the suffix chosen. Roll a D12 and choose the suffix from the corresponding fate.

Healer

1 - Petal

2 - Leaf

3 - Stem

4 - Shade

5 - Pool

6 - Moon

7 - Cloud

8 - Mist

9 - Bark

10 - Web

11 - Rain

12 - Stalk

Hunter

1 - Feather

2 - Flight

3 - Shade

4 - Fall

5 - Leap

6 - Shadow

7 - Eye

8 - Ear

9 - Splash

10 - Spring

11 - Tail

12 - Wind

Warrior

1 - Claw

2 - Fang

3 - Burn

4 - Flame

5 - Storm

6 -Hawk

7 - Tooth

8 - Jaw

9 - Bite

10 - Blaze

11 - Scar

12 - Howl

Camp Keeper

1 - Mask

2 - Tuft

3 - Down

4 - Belly

5 - Heart

6 - Flower

7 - Patch

8 - Light

9 - Fern

10 - Mane

11 - Dapple

12 - Muzzle

*Leader's suffix is Star, but may vary by region.

Gifted

1 - Wish

2 - Sight

3 - Wing

4 - Frost

5 - Song

6 - Dream

7 - Dusk

8 - Dawn

9 - Omen

10 - Spark

11 - Moon

12 - Hollow

The soul is almost ready. Roll a D20 to determine at least one characteristic. You may roll up to three times, and reroll once.

1 - Six Toed

2 - Ear Tufts

3 - Deaf

4 - Long Claws

5 - Rosettes

6 - Stripes

7 - Twisted Paw

8 - Patchy Fur

9 - Excellent Listener

10 - Stalks Silently

11 - Blindness

12 - Three Legged

13 - Exposed Fangs

14 - Excellent Swimmer

15 - Beautiful

16 - Became a Healer despite destiny

17 - Became a Warrior despite destiny

18 - Became Leader despite destiny

19 - Clumsy

20 - Bobbed Tail

The soul is ready. Place them in the clan that suits them best, be it in the Lake territories or elsewhere. Their story is in your hands now.

#warriors cats #warriors oc #warriors cats name generator #warriors cats oc #oc maker

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wellthebardsdead · 2 years

Text

Another dragon emperor while I flesh out more characters?? ~Bambi

———

Tai Lung: *arm now tightly bandaged in a sling, shuffles into his new chambers still learning to walk in such long and flowy clothing* how do people skateboard in these things? It’s my first time wearing hanfu an I can barely walk *groans rubbing his tail as he bumps it against the doorway* stupid drs, why’d they pull out so many scales?… *pauses staring at the extravagant room before him, walls painted with detailed artwork of peacocks and blossoms, the bed a large canopy of intricately carved mahogany lined with silk curtains and a moon gate like opening revealing a plush bedding of pillows and blankets inside, and on a table in the middle of the room, a mountain of boxes, all of it gifts from the emperor* woah… *quietly looks around before stepping to the boxes and opening one to show candied almonds* eh?… sweets? *opens another to show dried apricots, than another showing glutinous rice cakes, than another box of sweets, followed by another and another* Th-they’re all sweets?? How am I meant to eat all of this?! How am I meant to clean my teeth after this?!

???: Is it not to your liking g-

Tai Lung: *nearly launches himself onto the table in fright letting out a high pitched scream* EH!!? WHO ARE Y- *freezes seeing a very beautiful man around his age standing before him, long black hair half up half down in a neat bun and adorned in rather plain robes*

Wu Long: Ah, forgive me for scaring you great dragon. I’m your personal servant assigned by his majesty the emperor. My name is Wu Long.

Tai Lung: oolong?

Wu Long: *snickers* yes, like oolong. His highness said it was fitting, a name also bearing resemblance to a dragon be in service to a dragon. I humbly request your forgiveness for frightening you. *kneels down and bows*

Tai Lung: I-h-hey stop that you- *gently takes his hands helping him to his feet*

Wu Long: *visibly flustered at him touching him never mind holding his hands, feeling very blessed* I-ah s-stop what your grace-

Tai Lung: w-with the formalities, it feels weird being bowed to like that- all of this feels weird! And I-… I… I’m sorry… I’m very overwhelmed right now…

Wu Long: wh-why are you apologising I’m the one whose upset you and-

Tai Lung: you didn’t upset me just… please, Call me Tai Lung. By my name… you don’t have to bow to me.

Wu Long: I… but even the emperor bowed to you-

Tai Lung: I don’t know how the palace or- all of this works okay, b-but if it’s your job to be around me then I don’t want you to treat me like a deity alright…

Wu Long: *bows his head before correcting himself quickly* yes, Tai Lung. I will do my best.

Tai Lung: Cool. *pauses feeling his stomach growl* oh no-

Wu Long: Ah, you’re hungry?? *glances at the sweets* I take it not for desserts either, I’ll have the chefs prepare you a meal at once. Is there anything you’re craving?

Tai Lung: I wouldn’t mind a baked potato honestly, but anything savoury is fine.

Wu Long: I?… what’s a potato?

Tai Lung: …

*a few moments later*

Emperor Tengfei: *stepping into Tai Lungs Chambers* great dragon, forgive my intrusion please but I wanted to see how you’-WHAT IN THE WORLD?!

Tai Lung: *trying to climb out the window again* LET ME GO! I DONT WANT TO LIVE IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE!!

Wu Long: *holding onto his tail as the stewards try to pull him back inside* T-Tai Lung please I’m sure we can find it if you describe it to us!!!

*a few more hours later*

Tai Lung: *almost sobbing with joy eating a hot baked potato*

Emperor Tengfei: *standing behind the doorframe watching* he’s eating peasant food?

Wu Long: it’s what they feed to their pigs from what I’ve heard but it’s what he wanted.

#the emperors dragon

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roleplaycharacter1shots · 1 year

Text

character profile - Tom Hawkins {the specialist}

G E N E R A L I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Thomas Osiris Hawkins Nickname: Tom Gender: Male Birthplace: Cairo, Egypt Birthdate: July 30, 1980 Current Residence: NYC, New York Employer: DARK Occupation: DARK operative, specialty in runes and rune tattoos Blood: Pureblood

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6' 1 Hair: Dirty blonde and brown with hints of red in certain lights Eyes: Light green Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous Other: Multiple runes tattooed across his back, back of his hands, arms, and thighs in various colors (a majority of them are in the traditional black) that he can trigger to be visible and not on command

Playby: Tom Hiddleston

B I O G R A P H I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N Fascination with ancient cultures and the human body runs in the Hawkins family. Although, it has not always been in the best ways: the first generations of Hawkins were grave robbers. Some searched for treasures, others for cadavers to experiment and probe.

George and Melody Hawkins were no different. George was an explorer, traveling the world with his healer wife and little Tom to find tombs and treasures. It was his father that led him to be interested in the ancient writings, despite how neither of them had no idea what they truly said. The way that the designs curved and meant multiple meanings drew Tom in quickly as he learned to read English. When he was thirteen during one of the many visits to Egypt over the summer (of course they were almost always there, given his middle name), Tom met with an elderly tattoo artist who taught him some simple meanings to the hieroglyphs that he tended to see on the walls.

When the summer ended, Tom begged his parents to let him come back the next year to learn more. George was thrilled, considering how it would help them understand those inscribed on the tomb walls. Melody was a little disappointed, as she was hoping that her son would make a name for himself as a healer, but she did see how passionate he was about it. So each summer, Tom returned to the elderly man's tattoo parlor to learn runes and glyphs. His second visit his mentor permitted him to try using his tattoo needle. His mother was not pleased when he returned to England with a small rune on the inside of his right wrist. Tom did his best to keep it concealed from her, but her disappointment was clear.

Eventually, as any young apprentice does, Tom became a bit bored from doing the same thing each summer. Yes, he was learning new runes and words each day, but it was beginning to lose some of its glamour. He started doodling on the side because his mentor would not permit him to tattoo all the time, but he quickly learned that he needed to better respect the runes as his paper lit up into flames. Tom was terrified, but also even more intrigued.

By the time he was seventeen, Tom had runes across his back, arms, thighs, and the back of his hands. He quickly learned that certain combinations did different things. And to his mother's relief, one of those combinations permitted him to hide all of the others when he wanted. Granted, it took him quite a few years to get to that point, but once he did she seemed to accept his line of work a bit better. Moving to America and getting the job as a DARK operative to continue his experimentation made him feel a bit more validated, but he can't tell his mother. Oops.

C O N N E C T I O N S Parents: George Hawkins (explorer and world traveler, father), Melody Hawkins (healer, mother) Romance: Hollis Vane (partner since early 2015) Tension: His mother not being a fan of his work (but it's manageable) Notables: His first relationship was with a gay man, but they broke up because his boyfriend was uncomfortable with Tom being bisexual; younger cousin to Aston Bradley (mothers are sisters); Selim Gerges, his first tattoo mentor in Egypt.

O T H E R T H I N G S Education: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ravenclaw House Wand: Mahogany, twelve and a quarter inches, unicorn hair Sexuality: Bisexual Spoken Languages: English, Arabic Likes: Runes, tattoos, high collars Dislikes: People who don't take the time to understand his passion Song: The Imitation Game - Alexander Desplat & London Symphony Orchestra

#my characters #creative writing #character development #tom hiddleston #character sheet #character concept #fictional characters #character design #ravenclaw #tattoos #magic runes #tgs wide #hp rp #hp roleplay #hp community #egyptian #bisexaul #profile

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colsonlin · 1 year

Text

“Alibi” (2010) — a dark comedy inspired by “Heathers” and “Mean Girls”

This massive space reeks of white privilege. The interior designer—an up-and-coming celebrity who had logged ten appearances on the final hour of the Today show before he was convicted last year of drugging a teenage boy—had called the color scheme “Immaculate Frost.” Immaculate, indeed. The family room, predominantly white with hints of silver and cappuccino, is anchored by a window wall adorned by sheer white curtains. It is afternoon. Wintry sunlight streams in through the window, sheathing in bright light a mahogany coffee table at the center of the room. Magazines line the bottom shelf—Harper’s, Lapham’s Quarterly, The Paris Review, Yale Alumni Magazine. The owners of this home are exquisitely educated—they will deign to read The New Yorker or The Economist only if they are at the dentist’s, and there is nothing but Highlights to flip through in the waiting room. Everything about this living room is “tasteful”—even the bright pink throw pillows on the two white sofas and two white armchairs flanking the coffee table, which have no right to be tasteful, are tasteful. A white stuffed lamb above a row of Christmas stockings hanging from the fireplace watches over the living room—the Christmas lights are up. A Christmas tree in the corner of the room is ornamented by angels.

Mahler plays from the surround-sound speakers.

Lying on the floor and tucked between the white sofa and the mahogany coffee table is Alyssa White.

You know Alyssa already, and not just because she has cappuccino tresses and a waist the size of a curling iron. Alyssa was the girl in middle school who while her friends dated high school boys, herself would date a college freshman, and while her friends dated college freshmen, herself would date a six-foot-two Ecuadorian skier with emerald-green eyes who in some other century might have washed Alyssa’s clothes—it’s a good thing the wealth of the Global North liquidated across the equator. Alyssa makes Heather No. 1 look like a Girl Scout. She makes Regina George look like Shirley Temple. She wears pink lip gloss and white cowboy boots and, as the century draws to a close, she’s lying in a fresh pool of blood.

It's December 25, 1999.

Alyssa’s hands, arms, chest, back, stomach, and hair—yes, even her hair—are covered in raw blood.

“Moral violence.”

Not that it ever went away, but for a century that represses so much envy, it’s now back with a vengeance.

Alyssa reaches out her right hand and places it weakly on the white sofa. Her left hand tries to grab the side of the coffee table, but she loses her balance—a stack of Lapham’s Quarterly tips over, hitting her on the head. She tries to lift herself off the floor again—this time, her left hand strikes a silver tea tray on the mahogany coffee table, sending three teacups crashing into the floor. “Come back,” she croaks hoarsely. “Please. I’m a person. I’m a person. I’m a person.” As she says this, she begins to weep, until her weeping turns into labored gasps of air.

Until finally—

silence.

“G! I! L-T-Y—you ain’t got no a-li-bi, you guilty! Yeah, yeah—you guilty!” the white stuffed lamb begins to hum, as the playful gold bars of Mahler No. 3 sprinkle across the room.

II.

You should know right away that Asians own this home—Asian-Americans, the father is a philosopher and the mother is a therapist. When the lights come back on, it is evening, and Alyssa’s body is still on the floor. The red and blue swirl of police lights entangle the room. For all their tasteful accoutrements, the Yangs must be new money—the walls of their home are gaunt enough that we can hear the crackle of police transmissions outside, and the busybody neighbors who have crowded onto the Yangs’ front lawn.

A murderer is in the room.

On the blood-stained sofa, three lanky girls—Jamie Donahue (17), Madison Yang (17), and Abby Liddell (18)—sit with their arms folded and their legs crossed at the knees.

They look like a macabre spread in Vogue France.

To see these three girls together is to see the undoing of any arrogance you might have once had about your own appearance. Do teenage girls really look like this—their arms and legs thinned to such nuance Kate Moss would beam green with envy? Jamie, Madison, Abby, and Alyssa formed the in-crowd within the in-crowd at the School of Ethical Culture (tuition in 1999: $21,342). Jamie is thin and African-American. Madison is thin and Asian-American.

Abby is thin and white.

“You forget how much blood there is in the human body,” Jamie muses out loud to nobody in particular. “I mean it’s just not something you really think about, I guess—you know?”

“Six quarts,” Madison says.

Jamie turns to Madison. “What?”

“Six quarts. Our biology teacher in seventh grade showed us using pig’s blood and empty bottles of Pennzoil—it was so disgusting. He gave us all a turn dumping out six quarts of blood into the sink—he said it was so if we were ever canceled, we would know exactly how much blood we could lose before we exsanguinate. So that’s how I know—six quarts.”

“And how many quarts can you lose before you exsanguinate?”

Madison shrugs. “Two, I think?”

Jamie studies the pool of blood on the floor. “That looks like a lot more than two quarts of blood,” she says awkwardly. “I mean right?” She laughs. “That looks more like eight!”

“It reminds me of the time my cousin miscarried on the freeway,” Madison continues.

“Oh my god—for real?”

“For real—she lost so much blood, like it was all over her seat and stuff and then it started dripping onto the floor. I was sitting next to her—my shoes were moist.”

“Oh my god—stop.”

“Like when I stepped out of the car, I had footprints.”

“Oh my god—stop. You know what would be so fucked up? If we like, stained our shoes with Ally’s blood and we like, walked around all over the house and we like, made the detectives,” Jamie bursts out laughing, “follow our footprints.”

Madison laughs too. “Oh my god—what if we like, walked into my parents’ room and tracked her footprints to their bed?”

“That would be so ridiculous.”

“I know, right?”

“Oh, man—the pigs would never buy it though,” Jamie smiles, turning to look at Abby. “Sorry, Abby.”

Abby, who has been staring into the floor this whole time, turns to Madison and Jamie.

“The blood just means we’re human.”

“What?” Jamie says.

Abby continues softly: “The blood. All it means is it came from a person. We’re all people. It’s the same blood in Ally as it is in you, as it is in me—you see a pool of blood on the floor and you don’t know if it came from a black person or a white person, or a gay person or a straight person, or a fat person or a skinny person. You just know it came from a person. It came from a person.” Her voice begins to break. “And so you cry.”

A pause.

“You cry. Because it came from a person.”

“Abby?” Jamie says, repressing a giggle. “Animals bleed.”

“Not like people they don’t,” Abby says, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s not like we’re Rebecca on Sunnybrook Farm and surrounded by animals all the time—all I’m trying to say is when you see a pool of blood on the floor, like in the hallway at Ethical Culture, you know it didn’t come from an animal—you know it didn’t come from a cow or a horse or a pigeon. You know somebody was canceled that day.”

Jamie turns to Madison. “I think she’s losing it.”

“But Jamie! It came from a person! A per-son!”

Jamie and Madison burst out laughing, while Abby rises from the sofa. “Go to hell. Both of you.”

“Abby,” Madison says. “we’re not the ones who cut Ally up like a chopped salad.”

“Careful, Madison—we still don’t know where she hid the knife.”

“Maybe it’s with Rebecca on Sunnybrook Farm,” Madison says with a high-pitched squeal, and they both laugh.

“I didn’t do this.”

Jamie gasps. “You know what I just remembered?”

“What?” Madison says, still laughing.

“Remember that time in seventh grade when Alyssa told Andrew that Abby was a hermaphrodite, and Abby told Alyssa that the only way she would ever forgive her was if Alyssa gave her a mea culpa?”

“Oh my god—I do remember, that was so weird.”

“And everyone was like, Abby, what the fuck is a mea culpa? And Abby started talking about—” Jamie can’t stop laughing now, “thetooth fairy—and black people?”

“Oh my god—shut up!”

“And like how her grandfather died in the Holocaust even though he wasn’t Jewish?”

“Oh my god—stop,” Madison gasps, keeled over in laughter now. After a few seconds they both settle down, and Jamie looks at Madison with a serious face. “Madison,” she whispers. “I think somebody owes Alyssa—a mea culpa.”

Jamie and Madison both burst out laughing.

Abby, who has been silently crying to herself, wipes her eyes dry and turns to go upstairs. A gust of wind from the furnace vent ruffles her airy sundress almost to her waist. Her strawberry blonde hair and bright white sundress bounce in the air as she saunters up the stairs.

III.

Abby is alone in the upstairs bathroom now, running the faucet—behind her in the mirror is a rainforest shower made of black granite. “The most important thing you learn about as a kid isn’t where babies come from,” she whispers into the mirror. “Or that the tooth fairy was just your dad slipping a quarter under your pillow while you were asleep. It’s that slavery happened. And the Holocaust happened. It’s that cruelty exists in this world.”

Abby opens a drawer in the sink and takes out a silver nail file. “The first cruel person I ever learned about was Hitler—Hitler is who most people lose their cruelty virginity to, I think.” She begins filing her nails over the sink. “And then you learn about how they treated black people in the ’60s, and that in the 1800s, black people were enslaved—like cattle. So by the time some fact-box in your eighth-grade world history textbook tries to tell you that Stalin actually ged twice as many people as Hitler did, you’re already numb. It’s like—what the fuck is wrong with people? You know?”

Abby hums a few bars of Mahler No. 3 to herself.

“But the thing is, you don’t have to go all the way back to Siberia or Nazi Germany or even the Confederacy to understand what cruelty is. As Mahler himself once said: ‘Cruelty is a certain look on a man’s face when he looks down on another man.’ This? This right here—is cruelty,” she says, pointing to the Yangs’ rainforest shower. “Really, it doesn’t even matter if I canceled Alyssa or not—and I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter. Because moral superiority—can be every bit as cruel, every bit as despicable, and every bit as barbaric as moral evil.” Abby finishes filing her nails and turns off the faucet.

She opens the same drawer from before and plucks out a bottle of blue nail polish. “But I didn’t cancel Alyssa,” she continues, applying the nail polish to her nails. “Okay, it’s true—we did have a falling-out over Thanksgiving. We haven’t spoken to each other in almost a month. But Alyssa and I have been best friends since middle school. We love each other. She was like my sister. Ow!” Some blue nail polish has seeped into an open cut on Abby’s finger, next to a nail bed. Abby blows her finger dry and then runs some water over it.

She turns off the faucet and shakes her fingers twice.

“Last night,” Abby continues, grabbing a hand towel, “Madison invited me to spend the night at her house—her parents are still in Taiwan, I think? She invited Alyssa over this afternoon without telling her I was here too. The plan was for me to stay upstairs until Madison came up to get me, and then we’d be forced into the same room together to work things out. So that’s what I did. I stayed in Madison’s room all afternoon after Madison let Alyssa in downstairs. All I could hear from the living room—was Christmas music.”

A closeup of the Yangs’ rainforest shower dissolves into the Yangs’ living room—it is now 3:14 in the afternoon. Sunlight streams in from the ivy-covered windows. Mahler No. 3 is still playing from the surround-sound speakers.

The front door opens.

“Ally? Look who I found outside.”

Two pairs of Jimmy Choos step into the front foyer as the front door closes. “Ally, are you in here?” Madison says, carrying a box of donuts into the living room. “Oh my god.”

“Holy shit,” Jamie, coming in after her, gasps.

Alyssa White is lying in a pool of blood in between the white sofa and the black mahogany coffee table.

“Abby?”

“Oh my god.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Holy shit!”

“Abby?”

“See if she’s still breathing.”

“Abby? Abby!”

“Maddie—let’s get out of here.”

“Abby! Abby! Where the fuck is Abby?”

A door opens upstairs. “Maddie—is everything okay?”

“Abby, what the fuck did you do?”

“What?” a girlish voice calls from the second floor.

Abby’s feet appear on the stairs, just below the living room ceiling—her nails are painted cobalt blue. When she sees Alyssa’s body she gasps, covering her mouth.

She emits a single syllable: “—no!”

“Abby—what happened?”

A pause. Abby lowers her hand from her face and blinks twice. “I just woke up.”

“We have to get out of here,” Jamie whispers.

“Right, and Alyssa just decided to stab herself fifty times over my coffee table—that makes sense; maybe she read something really menacing in ‘Harper’s Index’!”

“I had nothing to do with this.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to explain this to my parents?”

“I’m calling my dad,” Jamie says.

Abby begins to cry. “I just woke up—Jamie, say something. You believe me, don’t you? I was upstairs this whole time!”

“Ally—there is something really, really wrong with you,” Jamie says. “You don’t want to know how I feel about you right now. Let’s just put it this way. I see angels near your soul. ”

IV.

Alibis are either/or—you can’t be in two places at once, emotionally maybe, but not spatially. Abby’s sobs are clearly audible from the bathroom upstairs. In the front yard, a detective is interviewing a next-door neighbor.

“There goes the waterworks again,” Jamie says.

“I know, right?” Madison says. “It reminds me of the time Abby wore all-black to school for a month after her brother was hit by that wrong-way driver.”

“It’s an Anglican tradition,” Abby says from the top of the stairs. “Andy spent four days in a coma before my parents decided to pull the plug. It was the worst day of my life.”

Jamie whispers to Madison: “Won’t be for long.”

“Are you guys really going to go through with this? Are you guys really going to tell everyone I canceled Alyssa?”

“Why Abby, what in the world would ever possess you to say such a thing? We’re not going to keep our mouths shut for you,” Jamie says. “We owe it to justice.”

“The future is fear,” Abby whispers.

“Abby,” Madison says gently. “I want you to take a really good look at what you did to Alyssa. I mean, whatever happens to you—you kinda deserve it, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t bother you? After everything we’ve been through together, Madison—it doesn’t bother you that I’m about to be canceled? Not even a little bit?”

“Of course it bothers me,” Jamie says. “Abby, we love you. You, Ally, and Maddie are like the sisters I never had. Ally loved you so much—you were always her favorite.”

“When was the last time somebody was canceled at our school?” Madison asks.

“Aidan Doberman, in August.”

“You’re right—oh I forgot about Aidan. Poor Aidan.”

“Poor Aidan? He beat up his girlfriend.”

“Don’t tell you me actually believe Angie.”

“Angel.”

“It’s so Aidan to hook up with a freshman.”

“Oh my god—you totally had the hots for Aidan!”

“Did not.”

“You totally did!” Jamie snorts out a laugh. “He didn’t look so good cut up into four pieces, did he?”

“Jamie, I did not have the hots for Aidan. I just think Angie Montez is a lying hoebag—she clearly said what she said because she wanted the attention. And now she’s the only sophomore on the varsity soccer team—what a coincidence.”

“Did you go to Aidan’s disembowelment?”

“No, only the bonfire.”

“Oh really, I was there for all of it—the kidnapping, the decapitation, the disembowelment, the quartering.”

Abby quickly descends down the stairs. Her face looks sickly and pale. “I have to go now,” she says.

“What’s the matter, Abby?” Jamie calls out.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, wow—you see, Madison? This is the type of poor impulse control that gets people canceled.”

“Abby, don’t go,” Madison says.

Abby looks at Madison quizzically. “I have to tell my parents what happened. I have to—say goodbye.”

“Look, you might not be canceled after all—I mean, a lot of people did hate Ally.”

“Madison!” Jamie says.

“What? I’m just being honest. This might not be able to attract enough—popular outrage.”

“What Madison’s trying to say is we’re going to be there for every part of your cancelation—I’ll even bring home one of your bones to have it embossed, how does that sound?”

“Jamie,” Abby says, staring into Jamie’s eyes. “Someday, everyone will see you for the evil little witch you are. And when that day comes?” Abby opens the front door. “I wouldn’t be shy about withdrawing from my 401(k) if I were you.”

In the doorway, Abby takes one last look at Jamie, then at Madison, and then closes the door. Madison watches as Abby waves goodbye to a police officer and enters her car. She turns to Jamie. “I can’t believe we pulled this off,” she whispers.

“Did you see her face?”

“She’s totally clueless!”

“This is so sane.”

“I’m so glad this is over.”

“I know—what a relief.”

“I can’t wait for January.”

“But Maddie—I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to wait until January anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Well, remember what you said about Abby’s brother being dead? Abby’s an only child now. Her parents will do anything to protect her—even if it means moving her out of the country. She might not even be here in January.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that.”

“Why not?”

“What are her parents going to do—send her to Malta? They’re white trash. They don’t have the resources to send her out of town that quickly. As soon as everyone finds out what Abby did, they’ll show up to her apartment with pitchforks—I’ll make sure of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jamie. There’s no way they’re moving Abby out of town in a week—don’t be ridiculous.”

“Your parents on the other hand.”

“Oh my god—I’d be on a plane to Fiji this evening,” Madison says, plopping down on the sofa.

She looks at Jamie and smiles. “So can I ask you something?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, here we go.”

“I’m just curious—what were her last words?”

“That’s the thing, she didn’t really have any last words. It was a total surprise—she just said, ‘Jamie, what are you doing?’ She didn’t see it coming at all.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Well, you’re not going to believe this, but when I was stabbing her, she kept saying, ‘I’m a person, I’m a per-son.’”

“No way.”

“Over and over again. Isn’t that weird? Are you sure Abby couldn’t have woken up somehow?”

“I’m sure—you know how Abby is, she’s always so dramatic and over-the-top. I’m sure it was just a coincidence.”

“I hope so.”

“Look, Jamie—you’ve had a stressful day.”

“I don’t want to be canceled for this.”

“You won’t be. We’re in this together, okay? Trust me.”

“Okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Jamie looks at Madison. “Of course I do, bee-otch.”

“Good. Now let’s get the fuck out of here—I’m going to let the police inside to clean up the mess.”

Jamie stands up and walks over to look at Alyssa’s body. “She’s so bloated,” she says, crinkling her nose.

“That’s what happens to people when they die. The bacteria in Ally’s body is breaking down her tissue and releasing hydrogen and nitrogen into her epidermis, the space between her fat cells and her skin. All the while, the cells in her body are decomposing and literally eating themselves. It’s called autolysis. It’s disgusting, but without it, the Romans would have never invented wine.”

“You’re going to be such amazing doctor someday.”

“And you’re going to be the perfect lawyer.”

Jamie stands up from the couch, grabs her purse, and begins walking to the front door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, my love. See you tomorrow.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Alone in the living room now, Madison Yang turns to the window and watches as Jamie’s silhouette recedes into the police lights. She loosens her scrunchie and then fixes her hair back into a ponytail. “Jamie and I—we’ve been through a lot over the years. She lives three blocks away—we practically grew up together. My dad’s a professor and her dad’s a state senator—they were in the same graduating class at Yale Law. When we were little, we used to sneak into the Voglers’ backyard, whenever their gate was unlocked, and swim naked in their swimming pool. Jamie’s bulimic, of course—you probably can’t tell since we’re all so skinny, or you probably just thought we all had eating disorders, but no.”

She shakes her head.

“Just Jamie.”

Madison rises from the sofa and walks over to a mirror above the fireplace. “Her breath always smells like Listerine. I love Jamie, and I’m totally not proud of what I’m about to do to her—but she’s become such an angry person lately. All she ever talks about anymore is the next person she wants to see canceled. I mean, you can’t really blame her—appearances can be deceiving, you know. She’s had a rough life. Her mom was canceled three years ago, in the parking lot of Whole Foods, two days after arguing with this guy over some minor road-rage incident. It changed Jamie forever. I mean, her dad had the guy canceled of course—and the guy’s two accomplices, and their wives and children. You don’t fuck with the family of a state senator. Which is why I had to be very, very careful.”

Madison picks up the stuffed lamb.

“But all the evidence is here,” Madison continues. “I mean, how was I supposed to know that this stuffed lamb was actually a camera? Remember when I said appearances can be deceiving?” She giggles. “My parents come home on Monday. They’re going to find the video of Jamie stabbing Alyssa, they’re going to turn it over to Alyssa’s parents, and I’m going to show Andrew the photographs. Jamie will be cancelled by Wednesday. I mean it's Alyssa for God’s sake—people aren’t going to wait to ask any questions. People don’t want answers—they want solutions. You know, if Abby were smart, she’d be telling the world about Alyssa’s cancelation as we speak—she’s the only one out of all three of us who actually has an alibi. She had an admissions interview with a guy from Brown at Starbucks at 2. Alyssa was killed at 2:15.”

Madison sets down the stuffed lamb.

“I told Jamie I had crushed two Ambiens into Abby’s hibiscus tea. If Jamie had only thought about it some more, she would have remembered: white trash doesn’t drink tea. Oh well. The thing is, Alyssa and Jamie are legitimately garbage people—they have no sense of compassion or empathy for anything that happens to anyone they’ve dehumanized. Abby’s a good girl. We all make fun of her, but I’m the only one who sees her for who she really is. She’s someone—just like me.”

“’scuse me miss?” a voice from the front door knocks twice and interrupts.

Madison turns around and smiles.

“You can come in now, officer,” Madison says sweetly. “Everything’s finally under control now.”

VII.

“…Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears is playing from the surround-sound speakers. Abby and Madison are in the living room—sunlight streams in through the ivy-covered windows. Alyssa’s body is gone—her bloodstains are gone too. The black mahogany coffee table is once again immaculately arranged—not a teacup is out of place. The Christmas lights, however, are no longer up. Maddie and Abigail are sitting on the floor, decorating a Christmas tree in the center of the room. “Where’d you get this one?” Abby says, giggling as she pulls out a resin ornament from the cardboard box.

“I have no idea,” Madison says.

“Why’s she naked?”

“Because she’s an angel.”

“Are all your angels naked?”

“Abby, I would appreciate it if you didn’t make fun of my Christmas iconography, thank you very much,” Madison says, snatching the ornament from Abby’s hand. “I don’t make fun of your dreidels.”

“I don’t have any dreidels.”

“Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel—I made it out of clay. The first boy who it lands on—is the first boy I shall lay.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Okay, don’t be mad—I have something to tell you.”

“What.”

“I was talking to Jamie the other day—”

“About what, money?”

“—and Jamie was telling me how she had this crazy idea to cancel Alyssa—”

Abby’s eyes widen.

“—and frame you for it.”

Abby gasps. “What!”

“I know—can you believe it? And I was like, okay, Jamie, keep talking. And Jamie was like, I’m only telling you this because we grew up together and you’re my best friend in the whole entire world and if I can’t swim naked with you, I can’t swim naked with anyone, and I was like, oh my god Jamie, you’re my sister, I love you, you can tell me anything—and basically we just like crawled up each other’s assholes for a few minutes before she finally spat out the point. She goes, remember when Aidan Doberman was canceled this summer for beating up his girlfriend, and like, the entire baseball team was in on it—Andrew, Addison, Lance—which is the great thing about our school, everybody roots for the underdog? And I was like, yeah? And she basically told me that if we worked together, we could cancel Alyssa and frame you for it.”

“Oh my god. Have you told Alyssa yet?”

“Of course not.”

“What? Why the hell not—what if Jamie goes through with it?”

“Will you let me finish?”

“What’s there to finish?”

“Look, Abby—I’m doing you a huge favor here. I mean, now that you and Ally are fighting, you do have a motive for canceling her—everyone at Ethical Culture knows that.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, let me finish.”

Abby stares at Madison uneasily. “Okay. Finish.”

“I told Jamie, I’ll do it.”

“Okay.”

“And, so—we came up with a plan to cancel Alyssa this weekend and frame you for it.”

Abby nods slowly—she’s visibly shaken. She puts the angel ornament she’s holding back into the box.

“Okay. I think I should go home now.”

“Abby, wait a minute—do you really think that if I was going to go through with Jamie’s plan, I would have you over today and tell you about it?”

“I don’t know, Maddie. You know how powerful Jamie is, how her father had those four kids canceled.”

“I know,” Madison says as she rises from the floor.

“Maddie, I’m scared,” Abby says. “I don’t want you to do anything stupid—I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”

“Abby, will you shut the fuck up and listen to me?” Madison says, approaching the fireplace. “I have an idea.”

“What? What is it, Maddie—what’s your brilliant idea?”

“Jamie is going to cancel Alyssa—right in this room. And I’m going to help her. But she doesn’t know one thing. There’s a camera in here,” Madison says, tossing the white stuffed lamb to Abby. Abby catches the stuffed lamb and looks at it.

“In Biryani?”

“Look, you said your interview with that guy from Brown’s this Friday, right? Is there any chance you can get it pushed back to Saturday?”

“But Saturday’s Christmas.”

“I know. Jesus riseth!” Madison squeals.

“We’re going to have to talk about this.”

“We will—we’ll talk about it. But Abby, don’t you get it yet? It could be just you and me. Instead of playing third and fourth fiddle to Alyssa and Jamie, we could rule the School of Ethical Culture. And I know for a fact that the only person who hates Alyssa and Jamie more than I do—is you.”

Abby nods.

“Okay? Abby, you can trust me.”

“I know.”

“I promise.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to go make us a drink. I’m thinking—bloody marys?”

“Funny.”

“Be right back, bee-otch.”

Madison walks over to Abby on the floor, grabs the stuffed lamb from her hands, squeezes her shoulder twice, and then goes into the kitchen.

The sunlight begins to fade.

Abby is alone in the living room now. She stands up and walks over to the surround sound. She turns off “…Baby One More Time” and switches the C.D. to Gustav Mahler.

“We called our plan ‘lick its toes,’” she says. “Madison came up with the codename—it’s just each word in ‘kill the sluts’ spelled out backwards: Llik eht stuls. Clever, right? Madison Yang is nothing if not a very clever girl. She already got into Harvard early. She’ll probably graduate summa cum laude, get a 40 on her MCATs, go to Harvard Med, and become a brain surgeon or something—you know, whatever the highest-paying specialty is. She’ll spend the rest of her life saving lives—isn’t it ironic? Do you have any idea how many girls she’s stepped on to get where she is; how many people she’s pushed off the totem pole? The thing is, nobody really likes Madison Yang except for the only two people more popular and powerful than she is—that’s right. Jamie Donahue and Alyssa White. They love Madison, because having someone like Madison as a friend makes them look inclusive or something. The truth is, I think they actually admire Madison. Madison’s everything they are—plus brains. It’s just too bad they’re stupid enough to trust her—I’m not. I wouldn’t trust Madison to pick me up from the airport. Oh, don’t get me wrong—I am going to go through with it. Alyssa’s going to be canceled, and Jamie’s going to take the fall for it.”

Abby giggles.

“The problem is—I’m going to be the only one with an alibi.” Abby pulls out a recording device from her pocket and presses play. “Madison, I’m scared. I don’t want you to do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”

“Abby, will you shut the fuck up and listen to me? I have an idea.”

“What? What is it, Maddie? What’s your brilliant idea?”

“Jamie is going to cancel Alyssa. Right in this room. And I’m going to help her. But she doesn’t know one thing. There’s a camera in here.”

“In Biryani?”

“Look, you said your interview with that guy from Brown’s this Friday, right? Is there any chance you can get it pushed back to Saturday?”

“But Saturday’s Christmas.”

“I know. Jesus Riseth!”

Abby presses the stop button. “Starbucks isn’t even open on Christmas,” she smiles, and then giggles.

2010

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