#they are. fan children between an oc i made in middle school. and the boys

[bread-squid-uwu]

thinking about posting about my really old and cringe MyStreet OCs

[five-hxrgreeves]

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 3,597

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 |

Pt. 1- 10 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

Lola Gimbel was a very peculiar child and it wasn’t because she was one of the forty-three children born on that fateful day in 1989. Instead, she was strange because at the ripe young age of fifteen, she had already started her autobiography. It wasn’t that she was famous and needed her life written down, or that she was planning on dying anytime soon; on the contrary, she planned to live a long and fruitful life.

(One must be careful with what they wish for.)

Instead, her inspiration came from an eleven-year-old girl who’d lived over seventy years ago in a fictional work called The Book Thief. Lola admired Liesel’s perseverance and survival skills during war-torn times and the romantic part of her wanted someone like Rudy to stay by her side. This created the urge to pen down her own life story, first by asking her family members about the early years beyond memory until she could rely on her own.

Then, she spent many, many nights hidden in her basement writing by the aid of flickering candlelight. Of course, she didn’t need to use such old-fashioned ways, but the atmosphere helped set the mood and was a replica of how her book-hero wrote. Unfortunately, Lola didn’t think she had anything interesting to write even in the two and a half notebooks and counting. So far, she had:

My name is Lola Gimbel and I was born August 1, 2004. My family consists of my mother, Diana Gimbel, my father, Edmund Gimbel and my uncle, Edward Gimbel. I go to the local public high school in downtown Toronto, Canada. My father and uncle own a department store downtown called Gimbel’s Brothers. (An original name, I know. Don’t tell them I said that.) This is where I spend most of my free time after school. My mother works long hours as a nurse and apparently, I can’t be trusted enough to stay home alone after burning eggs one morning.

I’m getting ahead of myself; I was born in Toronto General Hospital at 9:15 a.m. According to my birth certificate, I weighed five pounds, five ounces. Tiny, I know! My mother was in labor for almost nine hours and when I finally arrived, she named me Delores. I hate my name because it sounds so old fashioned and it means sadness. I’d like to think I was a gift to my parents, but maybe not? and I know they love me, so instead of telling them that, I call myself Lola, which is better. It’s still a derivative of Delores, after all. As for appearances, I have shoulder-length brown hair with mid-length bangs and blue eyes.

The writing continued on for pages and pages, detailing everything she could- and couldn’t-remember from her life. There was one thing that she did not include, however, as it would give her parents a heart attack: the mansion the next block over, home of the long-forgotten Umbrella Academy, housed the biggest library she’d ever seen, and she stole books from it.

Three Years Ago

It had really been a coincidence that she’d taken any interest in the building at all. While it was the biggest thing in the city practically, the old man who lived there was an eccentric recluse who never left the house. And, despite it’s past grandeur, the once-grand entrance had faded with time and memory. Even those who’d grown up in the golden years of The Umbrella Academy had let their passions for the group of crime-fighting children go by the wayside as they grew up, leaving the large house to sit without audience for years on end.

Still, that didn’t stop some interested passers-by from peering in occasionally and Lola was among them. One night, she’d been passing by on her way home from a late-night walk and had travelled by the house on her way home. She’d passed by the house hundreds of times before, but that night she’d seen something. Or, someone. A slightly stooped figure had lingered in the window until they’d sensed they were being watched and had disappeared.

Since then, curiosity had plagued her to go check it out. Maybe, just maybe, she’d have something interesting to add to her life’s story. Her mother would cluck her tongue and say curiosity killed the cat, but her Uncle Edward would wink at her and chime in with but satisfaction brought it back. So the next night, Lola didn’t hide in the basement. Instead, she donned all-black clothes and crept to the house.

She’d never broken in anywhere but she had an inventive, quick mind and could almost always come up with a solution. The first-floor windows and doors had been locked and secure but after a few, terrifying minutes of climbing- luckily, the old stone had great places to cling on to- she’d reached the second level. Despite the ache in her fingers from grasping the side of the building, Lola had pressed on, hoping for luck, which arrived in the form of a second-story window being unlocked.

The brunette pushed it open carefully and dropped in, keeping low. A young girl would hardly trigger any alarms, but she wanted to be cautious anyway. The room she’d landed in was dark and with only the faint filter of light from the street lamps, she made her way into the hallway. A part of her hoped to find the figure she’d seen, but the other part- the larger part- hoped she wouldn’t meet anyone.

Despite the age of the house, the floorboards were in excellent condition and made no sound as she walked down the hallway. After trying a few doors to find them all barred, Lola hesitated at the back staircase. She should really stay on the floor with the escape, but something was encouraging her exploration upward, so she climbed.

There, at the end of the hallway, stood two large, double doors. Her anticipation heightened and it took everything in her not to sprint towards them. Instead, Lola continued at the same pace and, with bated breath, tried the handle. To her surprise, the door swung open immediately. The room was dark but her eyes had gotten used to the lack of light by now and she could make out towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She gave a squeak of excitement. Books! Now she could really be like Liesel Meminger!

Sure, there were libraries, but this was so much better. Her feet moved quickly, closing the distance between the door and the books. She ran her hands enthusiastically along the spines of the volumes, unable to read their titles due to the dim light. Which one should she take first?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was outside the door. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but the air suddenly felt… charged.

Quickly, she pulled one volume off the shelf and close to her chest. At the same time, a shadow appeared in the open crack of the door.

Oh no, oh no, oh no- Lola shook her head furiously, clutching the book. Panicking wouldn’t help. The room was dark enough that whoever it was probably hadn’t seen her, so she could still get away. Her eyes darted around the mostly open space.

There was a couch with side tables, a working desk, library nick-nacks and- aha! she thought triumphantly, soundlessly making her way to the window.

The figure in the door entered the room, peering cautiously around before backing out again, closing the door with a sharp click!

Lola, from her hiding place in the curtain, let out a relieved breath. She took this as her queue to leave, exiting with her prize out the same window she’d come in. While she was triumphant in her first heist, her mind was whirring. The figure had been obscured by darkness, but the outline had been clearer than when she’d seen them in the window- that, she was sure of- and it seemed like the person wasn’t actually a person at all, but a- monkey.

9 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

After school hours usually found Lola en route to her father’s department store where she would spend time until closing working on homework or hanging out with the staff that was on break. While the back room wasn’t the most ideal place for studying, she’d become used to the constant comings and goings and the noise that came with the workers.

Now, she was sitting at a table in the cluttered space at the back of the store working on her math homework while the daily news played on a small, old-fashioned TV hung up in the corner of the large room. Three of the staff members, Sam, Eric and Brittany were sitting at the table with her. The first of the workers’ attention was fixed on the small TV while the second two where scrolling through an app on their phones looking as bored as Lola felt as she completed her assignment.

With a loud sigh, she looked up at the trio hopefully, “do you guys want to see a magic trick?”

Brittany rolled her dark eyes, “what, are you gonna pull a quarter from my ear?”

Lola grinned, “nope!” she said cheerfully, shifting slightly in her seat to pull out a deck of cards from the back pocket of her jeans.

Sam huffed, “are you going to do the ‘pick a card, any card?’ schtick?”

“You guys have no faith in me,” the brunette complained, pulling the cards from the container and proceeding to shuffle them, “I’ve been practicing.”

Eric sighed, “fine, I’ll bite. Hold ‘em out.”

Discreetly, the brunette flipped the bottom card of the deck over and then fanned them out to the other teen, careful not to let the different card show, “alright, pick a card, any card,” she said this part sarcastically with an eye roll towards Sam.

The blonde boy reached forward and pulled out the card he wanted.

“Show it to everyone but not me,” she commanded, “make sure you remember it.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Eric said, flipping the card to reveal his choice.

While he did so, she flipped the deck casually in her hands, feigning nonchalance. She took it back from him, placing it carefully in the middle of the deck, “now, I’m going to find your card without looking.”

Lola hid the deck behind her back, flipping the top card over. At this point, even Brittany had put away her phone to watch. She revealed them again showing a face-up deck and carefully shuffled through the cards to reach the only face-down card.

Flipping it over, she showed the eight of hearts, “is this your card?”

Eric let out a low whistle, “well, I’ll be damned. You have been practicing.”

The dark-haired girl beamed happily, pleased that she’d pulled it off. The first time she’d tried this with her uncle, she’d accidentally revealed the workings of the trick as the deck slipped out of her hands.

“That’s definitely better than a quarter,” Brittany said begrudgingly.

Before anyone else could say something though, the jingle of the breaking news broke through the work room.

“This just in! Moments ago, police reported the death of the eccentric billionaire, Reginald Hargreeves. More on this story after the break.”

Sam’s head snapped towards the TV, “Hargreeves- that name sounds familiar.”

“That’s because he ran that Umbrella thing, idiot,” Brittany said with an eye roll, “they were all the rage during the early 2000s. My brother went nuts over them.”

“The Umbrella thing?” Lola questioned, curious.

“Oh yeah,” the older girl said, “there was this group of crime-fighting children that was run by Hargreeves. They became famous after stopping a bank robbery but they went downhill after one of their members went missing. Tommy was heartbroken.”

“Went missing?” Lola asked, “as in kidnapped?”

Brittany shrugged, “no one knows what happened to him. Hargreeves isn’t exactly an open book, either. There were several unsolved documentaries but they flopped since there’s not a ton of information. You can look it up if you wanna to know more. Personally, I was more of a Disney fan.”

“Of course you were,” Sam said in amusement.

The dark-haired girl glared at him, “what’s that supposed to mean, moron?”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged, “just that it’s a girly thing.”

Lola rolled her eyes as Brittany shot something back at the boy, tuning them out as the attention shifted away from her. She made a mental note to research The Umbrella thing, as the other girl had said. Standing, she stretched and made her way into the main area of the store to take a break.

Despite all the time she spent in here, Lola didn’t think she’d ever tire of looking at the constant rotation of styles and colors. Her favorite thing to do was run her hands along the racks, feeling the shifts between soft, scratchy, wooly and a hundred other different cloths.

Her favorite section was the formal wear for the vast amount of sparkly dresses that her father decided to sell. She particularly liked the sequins because of the shine they gave off and the unique texture that passed under her fingertips. While she wouldn’t necessarily consider herself a girly-girl, she did appreciate a nice dress and the occasional accessory, even owning-and wearing- an assortment of hats and dressy items containing her favorite material.

This was the section she made her way over to now, immediately reaching her hand out to touch the slightly-rough, slightly-smooth fabric of a long, strapless dress covered in a layer of silver-and-gold sequins.

She jumped when a gentle, warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, “hey, Sequins.”

Lola rolled her eyes, “Uncle Ed, I thought I told you I hated that nickname?”

Her uncle smiled goofily at her, “what, I can’t call you something that you love?”

She huffed, “it’s dumb.”

“That’s what your mother said when you wanted to go by Lola but you did it anyway.”

“Ouch, I think I need ointment for that burn.”

The man laughed loudly, attracting some stares from other customers. They both ignored it, Lola being used to her uncle’s easy, hearty laughter, “I thought she was going to have a conniption when you told her.”

Lola’s face warmed, “are you ever going to let me live that down?”

He gave her a bright smile, “no way, Dolores.”

The brunette gave him a half-irritated, half-playful glare, “please, Uncle Ed.”

8 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

That evening before dinner, Lola sat herself down at the computer in her room and typed in the first part of a search inquiry: The Umbrella and then Google helpfully suggested the rest: Academy.

Clicking on the first result, her blue eyes widened in shock as an image appeared on the screen. The building she stole books from almost every night was home to heroes. Good god, what if she’d been caught? She would be dead for sure. She thanked her lucky stars that she’d only met the slightly-stooped figure a handful of times and had never spoken to anyone.

She scrolled further down to read about The Umbrella Academy.

On October 1, 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth simultaneously, despite none of them showing any sign of pregnancy until labor began. Seven of the children are adopted by eccentric billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves and turned into a superhero team that he calls "The Umbrella Academy." Hargreeves gives the children numbers rather than names, but the public gives them codenames. Spaceboy, Kraken, Rumor, Séance, The Boy and Horror. While putting six of his children to work fighting crime, Reginald keeps the seventh apart from her siblings' activities, as she supposedly demonstrates no powers of her own.

Intrigued, she clicked on a few more links that showed poor-quality pictures of six kids in domino masks and black uniforms after complete missions. Sometimes they’re covered in blood, sometimes they’re not. The group visibly diminishes in number after 2002, a few years before she was born. Then, when they’re in their teens, it shrinks again before all articles about the group cease to exist.

Frowning, Lola then typed in Reginald Hargreeves. There are, unsurprisingly, few articles about the man himself. There were a few about his notable achievements including his knighting and entrepreneurship but most involved The Umbrella Academy. There was even audio recording of one of the few interviews he’d done, showing the man standing outside of a bank as he introduced the group to the world.

“Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted six such children. I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy!”

Abilities beyond the extraordinary? Lola thought, weren’t they just regular crime-fighting children? She snorted at that. There was no such thing as regular crime-fighting children. She entered her next search: Umbrella Academy superpowers.

Many articles were speculations of the full extent of the powers the children possessed, what-if questions and potential side effects or results of their use. She did learn, though, that the six powers were as followed: super strength, super accuracy, altering reality, ghost summoning, teleportation and time travel and summoning inter-dimensional beings. Lola could barely believe what she was reading. Children like this existed? And here she was, writing down her autobiography like she was someone important!

She shook her head, forcing her jealousy to dissolve. The media tended to sugarcoat everything; these kids probably didn’t have a very fun life if they were constantly on the job. And besides, of course she was important, she had time to do something noteworthy. Still, it felt like she’d entered an alternate universe and couldn’t believe she hadn’t been aware people with super powers even existed.

A part of her wanted to stop searching then and there with how muddled her mind was currently feeling but an almost morbid curiosity forced her to continue. As her final search of the night, she typed in The Boy disappearance.

Here, even less credible evidence popped up and she sifted through what she found until she had enough of a framework for a story. Apparently, he disappeared on November 10th, 2002 and his adoptive father proclaimed him dead. There were several conspiracy theories but nothing concrete, causing her to eventually give up on finding information. There was more to be found on the other siblings, she knew, but her curiosity had been satiated and she had other things to do tonight.

Standing from her desk, she went to her bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out the two hardcover books she’d hidden in there. Tonight, she’d return them to The Umbrella Academy’s library- that was hard to believe- and get two more. Placing them in her bag, she wondered about the lack of security for such an at-risk family, but she’d seen pictures of Hargreeves; he was old, and despite being incredibly smart, he probably had difficulty with technology like any older person. It wouldn’t matter much now that he was dead, though.

Turning her feet towards the door to head downstairs for dinner, she wondered if the stooped figure she’d seen had been Hargreeves before quickly discarding the thought. While the man had appeared old, he’d always stood straight and proud, never bent with age.

During dinner, she let her parents and uncle talk around her while she puzzled over the mysterious Umbrella Academy. They seemed to have a fairly large fanbase in their youth, but all information on them was practically made up or guessed. Lola had always liked puzzles.

Finally, towards the end of dinner, she broke her silence, “mom?”

Diana turned towards her daughter, pushing back her short, brown hair behind her ear, “yes, Dolores?”

The younger girl winced. Her mother insisted on using her formal name, “do you know anything about The Umbrella Academy?”

Now she had both of her parent’s attention as Edmund cut off the conversation with his brother, “The Umbrella Academy?”

Lola nodded, “the superhero children of Reginald Hargreeves?”

Her mother shook her head, “a bit after my time, dear.”

The brunette girl rolled her eyes, “you’re not that old, Mom.”

Diana shot her a look, “I never said I was old, just that I didn’t know them.”

She grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms and pouting. She’d only been trying to give a compliment. Unfortunately, the dark-haired woman leaned over and gave her daughter a firm smack on the back of her head, “don’t grumble, Dolores. You sound like a caveman.”

There was just no winning with her. Thankfully, her Uncle Edmund came to the rescue by changing the subject, “any progress on your autobiography, Sequins?” he asked with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes.

The brunette sighed and uncrossed her arms, using one of her hands to push her hair away from her face, “I don’t know what’s even the point anymore,” she complained, “especially with super-powered kids who are more interesting than me.”

Her father gave her a fond look, “you’re just as important as they are, don’t think that you’re not. And besides, this Umbrella talk reminds me- one of the children of the Academy published an autobiography a few years back, you might want to take a look at it.”

She shot him a surprised look, “really? Exposing superhero secrets?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure of the extent of what’s written, but it’s probably worth taking a look, right?”

She chewed her lip in thought for a moment before nodding, “okay, thanks Dad.”

[monsieur-hadrien]

Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations continued...

I did one of these lists back in June, and y’all KNOW! that I have even more to share with the world.

This list is a mix between crossovers and single-fandom fics, and are drarry or rarepair-centric, but either way I’ll mark which are which when I get to it.

If you want to see what I’ve been enjoying lately, check out my bookmarks on the Archive

Man of Iron, Child of Magic by zathara001

Harry Potter and MCU, no slash, 107k word count, 32 chapters, completed, teen

In the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion, Tony Stark sorts out his priorities - including one he didn't think he had.

Okay I followed this one from the beginning as a WIP because this is exactly the fic that I was looking for. Tony being Irondad for Harry is the most wholesome thing ever, and Uncle Steve is also 20/10. I will say, this fic is not as dark as a lot of this hp/mcu fics of this trope because it happens in Harry’s younger Hogwarts years and his childhood isn’t too ruined just yet. It focuses a lot on Tony’s growth as a father rather than working through Harry’s trauma (which, don’t get me wrong, that happens as well). Harry still has the naive outlook on life that a child should have and it just makes my heart swell.

Although this fic is done, the sequel has not been uploaded yet, as this fic was just completed late August, but don’t let that deter you. The author is a sweetheart to interact with on new updates (which were quite frequent).

Golden Boy’s Dance by Madriddler

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, 57k word count, 13 chapters, completed, explicit

Two years after the defeat of Voldemort and Harry is feeling useless. Jobless and suffering from PTSD, Harry spent his days going from horrible interview to horrible interview hopelessly looking for a job. Feeling completely useless, Harry, with the help of George, turns to a new profession that Harry never even thought of : being a camboy. Pleasuring himself for money and people's entertainment, Harry hopes to find a use for the Savior of the Wizarding World in this Peaceful Era.

Yeah so uh,,, this is a total guilty pleasure kink fic and I’m not at all ashamed for putting this fic on here. I won’t even lie, sometimes it felt a bit cheesey, but the porn was so well written it didn’t even matter. I swear to you this is porn with plot and lots of it. Harry works through his post traumatic stress disorder in ways that may or may not be slightly unhealthy, but beyond the porn, it’s really about Harry being okay in his own skin, as someone with mental health issues and as a sex worker. It was a hell of a good time to read and I definitely cried for Harry a time or two.

A Dented Old Street Sign by orphanghost

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, 27k word count, one-shot, completed, mature

Draco knows they aren't the only students who will be completing their NEWTs this year, but they are the only ones whose home fireplaces were disconnected from the floo network by the ministry.

At least, Draco assumes as much until he sees the light falling out from the front door of one of the other rickety old houses in front of them and the three figures cast in its warm glow. For a moment they look like some sort of strange, many legged creature. An acromantula, or a particularly massive Blast-Ended Skrewt. Then Draco hears Pansy make a disgusted sound beside him and the light falls in a less blinding way, and Draco can see that it is actually Potter and the Weasel carrying a large couch between them, and Granger fluttering around them with her wand out, seeming concerned.

I don’t think I’ve laughed this much reading a fic in a long time. The golden trio and the Slytherin gang live in the same neighborhood while attending their 8th year at Hogwarts and i swear to fucking god, the amount of mutual pining and angst between Harry and Draco is fucking ridiculous, but you can’t help but love them anyway. Sometimes I wanted to throttle them and then shove them into a closet together so they would just t a l k but like in a good way. also the Christmastime atmosphere is something I just live for.

Words Unread, Things Unsaid by PinkCrupps

Harry Potter, no slash Harry & Snape, 18k word count, 7 chapters, completed, teen

What if the Dursley’s were a little crueler, and a little smarter? What if they didn’t want Harry going to school because they didn’t want anyone to see the bruises?

What if Harry had to leave for Hogwarts, carrying a shameful secret? One that Severus Snape is determined to discover.

When I say this one hurt, I mean it h u r t. I feel so bad because when I first read the tags I laughed when I saw the illiterate tag because I make the “I can’t read” jokes often but then I read the fic and i felt SO BAD OMG.

I am no fan of Snape, let it be known, but this fic, I think made me feel like he actually deserved a bit of a redemption arc (even if it’s fanon). This whole time, all I could think of is giving harry a big hug and never letting him go.

I said this in the notes of my bookmark, and I stand by it: “

I feel like the hurt/comfort tag on this one is also meant for the reader”

What Happens to the Heart by Mossycoat

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 33k word count, 18 chapters, completed, mature

With no girlfriend, no job, and no idea what he wants, Harry has decided to let life go on without him. If only prophetic dreams, demanding ghosts, and Draco Malfoy would let him.

If you need a pick-me-up after the sadness for the prior fic, may i recommend this one. Seer!Harry is a headcanon that I had never seen before this fic, and I was not let down whatsoever. We love a fic where the OCs are wonderful and the writing style is immaculate. The incorporation of tarot and divination into the chapter names and plot also makes my babywitch heart s i n g!!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Relevant_Peach

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 70k word count, 15 chapters, completed, no rating specified, but probably teen/ mature for mental health tingz

Draco Malfoy would do anything to find a cure for his son's life-threatening disease. When he crosses paths with an old acquaintance, it unleashes a string of events that will uncover secrets and deceptions. Will Draco be able to look past the misdeeds of his old lover's past? Will Harry ever find the family he longs for?

Ah yes, who knew that pain could feel so good. Everything seems to be fine until it isn’t with this one.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 306k word count, 14  chapters, completed, explicit

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

oh my goD yes a classic we love to see it. This is one of those fics that is long but doesn’t reallly feel like it is? This is definitely another feel-good fic, even if it doesn’t seem that way in the beginning. Not only does it focus on Harry and Draco’s relationship, but also their relationships with their family, specifically their children. It’s just really heartwarming whenever Harry get’s all fatherly with his kids. ugh I swear I don’t want any but this is just SO ADORABLE! Plus Blaise Zabini rights thank you very much.

Also Boris can suck my left toe.

There’s a Pureblood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 105k word count, 36 chapters, completed, mature

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

This is another fluffier one, and I have absolutely no shame. Draco is just trying so hard to get through Harry’s thick, clueless skull and Harry is just trying to understand. They’re just so adorable I can’t. And Harry defending Draco’s and his relationship after people are like fuck naw just warms my heart. Like yes Harry, protect ur mans you adorable himbo you.

Our Own Demons by Emmalie22

Harry Potter, MCU, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Harry Potter/Peter Parker, 119k word count, 24 chapters, WIP, teen/mature

Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Ironman. (Reckless. Lonely. Father.)

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Wizard. (The Master of Death. Survivor. Breaking.)

Tony Stark never thought he would be a father. But when a lawyer comes knocking and truths become evident, he realizes that he can’t let his son walk out of his life. For Harry, acknowledging his relationship with Tony is a last-ditch effort to gain freedom and control over his life. Although the journey might not be easy, Tony and Harry learn to heal and become a family, facing trials and tribulations on the way such as a scheming Death, a Mad Titian, Dark Wizards, dangerous Doctors, and living Wards.

I’m so sorry to give you a WIP that hasn’t been updated in 10 months, but I couldn’t let this one slide. I’m so attached to these characters it’s unhealthy. I’m not gonna lie, this fic was the product of a very hyperspecific filtered search on AO3 but I’m not even mad at it. Tony is Harry’s father but unlike the other fic on this rec list, Harry is a bit more grown up and bears a lot of the scars of 5th year (y’all don’t need me to specify with that one). It’s a lovely family dynamic and super fluffy Peter and Harry wow we love to see it. Harry is also super fucking smart AS HE IS! I will never get over people calling him stupid ugh Harry rights. But yes, author friend, if you see this, update when you can I’m so in love with this.

If anybody wants me to do more specific lists, I will totally do so. Just reblog or private message me. And if you have any other fic recs, please do so too because I’m always looking for something else to read.

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable- Ch 3: The Fox (S1E7)

Summary:  A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: lots of murder, including the murder of young children, swearing

Ch 2 | Ch 4

~ ~ ~

“First case. Are you ready?”

Lydia glanced at Gideon, an eyebrow raising in the process. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done two months of preparedness training. And I’m not exactly out in the field.”

He chuckled. “You’re a crime scene investigator. Is that not ‘out in the field’ enough?”

“I just mean: I’m not facing down the bad guys, I don’t carry a gun, I sit and look for fingerprints. Not much to get the adrenaline pumping.”

When she said that, his face turned to a serious one. “I don’t know about that. This case is bad.”

She followed him into a conference room and he nodded for her to sit at a circular table, while he opened a case file and started to pin pictures on the wall. And he wasn’t lying. They were gruesome.

Lydia was accustomed to, if not entirely comfortable with, looking at some horrifying scenes, but it was rare that children were involved in something so violent.

A family, all killed in a dark room. The scene was a bloody one, almost all of them looking to have been stabbed except the father, who was shot through the head.

Elle was the first to join them and greet Lydia, before swiftly disappearing to grab the others on the team and start the case debriefing. Lydia did her best to assess their willingness on her joining the team as each one entered and shook her hand. Morgan seemed genuinely happy to have her and JJ was automatically polite. Reid, however, was harder to… read. He gave her a curt nod and a, ‘Nice to see you again,’ before sitting down.

Gideon and JJ went back and forth describing the case: the Crawford family had been found in their basement. It was set up to look like the father had stabbed his entire family before shooting himself. Which would mean the unsub was dead. However, they had a similar case from a month ago. 

Scratch similar. The exact same case from a month ago. Every detail. Including the assumption that their killer was dead in the house.

And a bonus was the fact that both families were supposed to go on vacation five days before their bodies were discovered, but they’d only been dead for 24 hours.

It was the perfect set up, Lydia realized. She didn’t know what someone would want a whole family for, but this unsub knew how to trap them all at a time when no one would go knocking on their door.

She tried to keep up with them as they spoke, but she was overwhelmed fairly fast. As Morgan and Gideon went over organized and disorganized contributors, JJ introduced a suspect into the pool. A man named Eric Miller, who’s ex-wife and children were part of the first family that was killed and who was just picked up by police after a month of being off the grid… with his kids’s blood on his jacket.

The physical evidence was fairly damning. And he disappeared for a whole month. That didn’t exactly play into his favor. Lucky for her, deciding whether or not he killed them wasn’t her job. She just had to find more evidence.

“Was any of his DNA found at the Crawford house?” Morgan asked.

“No.” Gideon was immersed in the photos he had. He didn’t look up even as he was talking. Lydia was curious what he planned to find in the pictures, but didn’t wish to disturb his thoughts.

“Did he know the Crawfords?” Reid continued.

“If he does, he’s not saying. In fact, he hasn’t said a word since his arrest,” JJ finished, leaning back in her seat. “Uh, the Arlington PD has asked us to interview him,” she told Gideon.

Reid finally picked out Miller’s mugshot and made a sound of disbelief. “If anyone could apply overwhelming force, he’s your man,” he said, catching a small laugh from JJ.

“I want you to find out,” Gideon told him. “Talk to him.”

His demeanor changed almost immediately. “Y-you want me to… talk to him?”

“Yeah. You’ve done interviews before with other agents running point. You can go solo.”

The boy looked at the other faces at the table nervously. Lydia actually enjoyed seeing it from someone so prideful, but she repressed a smile. He didn’t deserve teasing right now, he honestly looked terrified to conduct this interview alone.

“Morgan, Ambers, the Crawford house is a fresh crime scene. Once the Crawfords were brought down to the basement, they must have known their fate.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s eyes traced the walls of the stairwell as Gideon led them down to the basement. She wanted to see some signs of distress: a fight or scuffle. But not only were they clean, they were lined with perfectly straight mementos: picture frames, a wreath, two tennis rackets, etc. The family all walked down willingly.

But how do you control an entire family? Who alone has that much power?

“M.E. said they were all killed down here,” Gideon explained.

In the center of the blue carpet was a perfect red circle, which Morgan walked around and towards a separate smear on the washing machine.

“Sam was found here, Emily over there. So… I’m the unsub. How did I do it?”

Morgan flipped through the photos of the bodies, nodding at Gideon’s words. Lydia watched their process, knowing that if she was probably going to investigate quite a few scenes with them like this.

“Well, I had to bring ‘em down here first.”

“How?” Gideon prompted.

He shrugged, his eyes looking between the spots where the bodies were found. “I had a gun.”

“Ok. Use a gun to force them down here. What next?”

“Stab ‘em.”

“Who first?”

“The strongest,” Morgan said. “The father.” He held a photo next to the washing machine. It showed Chris Crawford laying against the machine awkwardly.

Lydia shook her head. “Chris Crawford wasn’t stabbed. He was shot.” She pointed at the smear. “The blood trail there follows his head as he slumped down and died. And there was no other blood on him or around him.”

“Okay.” Morgan rearranged the details in his mind. “Shoot the father, and then stab the mother.” In her photo, Allison Crawford was pale faced, blood dripping from her mouth down her neck and into her gold hair. The unsub had left her in the center of the room.

“How you gonna keep the kids from running away?” Gideon asked

Morgan thought about it a moment. “Restraints. Can’t aim a gun at them and stab the mother at the same time.”

“No restraints were found on the victims.”

“Because I took them with me,” he argued.

“No ligature marks were found.”

This threw Morgan for a loop. He flipped through all the photos in his folder, looking up at the locations in each photo.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Gideon offered. “See how they lived.”

Lydia took one final look at each of the blood pools on the floor. A five year old boy and eight year old girl. Had they really sat there and watched someone kill their parents in the middle of their basement?

~ ~ ~

“The yard is overgrown,” Gideon observed. “And like the roof, Chris Crawford’s car is in need of maintenance, but Allison Crawford’s SUV is in pristine condition.”

“Says here that Allison drove the kids to school. If they were educated privately, maybe the car was just an attempt to show the other parents wealth,” Morgan reasoned.

Lydia sighed. “Adds up to the rest of the house.”

“Rest of the house?” Gideon asked.

She gestured to the living room table. “These magazines are clearly placed. No one finishes reading a magazine and then places it into a perfect fan shape so that the title is showing. They’re designer names. And I don’t see any other magazines in the house, so likely, they were trying to fake subscriptions to high end magazines they don’t have.”

Gideon smirked. “Expensive furniture and a plasma screen TV. Behind the curtains: water damage,” he said, adding to Lydia’s statement. “Allison spent money on the things her friends could see and neglected those they couldn’t.”

“You saw the water damage,” Lydia argued, and Morgan went to confirm the accusation.

“The Crawford’s lived beyond their means,” Gideon continued, ignoring her comment.

“So, where’d the extra cash come from?” Morgan demanded.

“Get Garcia to check their financial status,” he instructed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Morgan nodded for Lydia to follow Gideon as he turned on his phone to make a call.

“Emily,” Gideon whispered, pulling a painting off the refrigerator, then turning it towards her. It was a house, painted entirely black. At the bottom, signed in sloppy, capital letters was the Crawford’s daughter’s name, Emily. “This painting is of this house. Strange that, for a child, it has no color. Has lines, dimensions, but no color.”

“Was there any indication that Emily had some kind of mental disability?”

Gideon’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

Lydia waved away his confusion with a flick of her hand. “Nothing. It would just explain her dedication to realism over classic, childish fun. I can search her room for anything else to indicate she would paint something like that?”

Gideon nodded and she left, jogging upstairs and immediately finding a door with Emily’s name on it.

The room was more than enough evidence that the painting downstairs was not typical of Emily. If her bright personality didn’t shine through her colorfully decorated walls and sparkly clothing, her collection of paintings did. This girl obviously had many different colored paints and she used them.

Lydia sifted through a couple of pictures on her desk until shouting from downstairs distracted her.

“Help me! Help! Please! HELP ME!!! No! NO!!! Please, no!”

Lydia could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she leapt down the stairs and found Gideon shrieking out of a window, a very startled Morgan watching him.

“NOOOOO!”

Morgan glanced at Lydia when she fumbled into the room, but he didn’t look concerned for Gideon. If he was, he likely would have interrupted this far sooner. But he definitely didn’t know what was going on.

His yells only lasted about a minute, before he went completely silent, not moving from his spot in front of the window. The other two held their breath in anticipation of an explanation, but he stayed there until a light came on in the house across the street. Then another. A dog down the street erupted into howls at the disturbance.

That’s when he turned around. “Why didn’t anyone hear them scream?”

Morgan looked out the window once more, to see the concerned neighbors rushing outside or opening their windows. And just like that, Gideon was off again to another part of the house.

“Shit,” Lydia mumbled. “I guess that’s one way to make a point.”

~ ~ ~

Before she knew it, she was back at headquarters. The case was close enough that they set up their evidence boards in the conference room so they didn’t have to impose on a police station. Hopefully she’d stay there for the rest of the case, knowing that she’d only be asked to leave again if another crime scene appeared. But, she was at a loss right now with what little evidence she had. A kid’s painting that didn’t match the others? And proof that someone was able to control and keep silent a whole family of four in their house for four days? She had no clue how this all formed into a profile that Gideon claimed he’d already started.

“I believe the unsub had control over this family,” he started. Everyone except Hotch, who was in Garcia’s office trying to make sense of the false wealth lead, sat around the round table, watching Gideon piece together his theory. “He may have separated each family member. He tells the mother, ‘If you scream, I’ll kill your children.’ He tells the children, ‘If you cry, I’ll kill mommy.’

“The suspect found a way of restraining them without leaving marks. Based on lividity, the M.E. estimates that the father was the last to die.”

“Which means he witnessed the whole thing,” Morgan added. “If the unsub did spend time with both families, he must’ve known he had the time to spend with ‘em.”

“‘Cause he knew they were going on vacation,” Reid reasoned.

“Look at travel agents, relatives, work colleagues, contract workers, children’s tutors-” Gideon was interrupted by Hotch’s voice over the intercom in the center of the conference room.

“Gideon, we’ve been looking into the Crawford financials.”

Garcia’s voice stepped in to explain. “Allison Crawford spent way more money than Chris could afford. They were in major debt.”

“And Chris Crawford wrote a number of checks for a series of visits to a therapist.”

This wasn’t surprising news, although it didn’t give them anything. There still wasn’t any shady business in either household.

“Allison had two cell phone accounts… one of them billed to a separate address in southeast Washington, D.C.”

Everyone perked up, quickly taking note of this new discovery.

“Did you get that?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, I got it,” Gideon sighed. “Ambers, stay here. The rest of you, let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

When the team got back, they were taking a man in for questioning. Lydia followed them to the interrogation room hesitantly. Gideon had said that they were looking for a smaller man in stature and this guy was anything but. He was awkward and nervous, sitting with Gideon and Morgan while the rest of the team looked on from the other side of the double-sided mirror.

As she watched the interrogation go down, Lydia took mental notes of everything she could on this man:

Frank Fielding. Unconfrontational. Attached to the painting Gideon was holding. Right-handed. Sweaty. Manic-depressive. On medication. Nervous stutter. Guilty conscious. Calls Allison Crawford ‘Ally’... 

‘Cause he was her brother.

Lydia could see Gideon and Morgan losing their assurance that this was their guy as Frank started to cry over the loss of his sister. His sadness then turned to anger and he started to blame Chris for killing his family.

“The rule was-- I was never supposed to go to the house,” Frank explained. “That was the only rule.”

Allison Crawford used money her husband didn’t have and was embarrassed by her mentally ill brother. That gave two men in her life motive, but not enough to kill a different family.

He explained how Chris hated him and how his phone was cut off and that was the reason for his visit. That led to another small burst of anger. He began banging his fists against the table and Gideon moved away.

“There’s no way this guy could’ve gotten into the house without a key,” Elle reasoned, shoulder-to-shoulder with Hotch, directly in front of the glass. She was right. He was tall, large, and clumsy. Not exactly prime ninja material. “Knowing how Chris Crawford felt about his brother-in-law, do you see him having one?”

“No,” the unit chief replied.

They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to Frank explain his visit to the Crawford house and seeing his sister and a stranger at the table. As he spoke the words out loud, he seemed to figure out what they were all thinking. This stranger was the unsub.

Gideon and Morgan tried to calm him, but Frank started to freak at the thought, banging his fists against his head and shouting. They were quick to jump into action, pushing him against the wall and holding back his hands. Hotch, Elle, and Reid all ran in to help, but Lydia stayed behind, just staring at the prescription pill bottles he had discarded across the table.

She hated those things.

~ ~ ~

“He’s been looking at those pictures all morning,” Elle mumbled over her cup of coffee, in reference to Gideon. Morgan was just hanging up a call and Reid was at his desk, looking over something.

“Well, I sure hope he sees a connection,” Morgan replied. “‘Cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I’ve got nothing.”

“Why target those families?” Elle asked.

Hotch walked past as she said this, his nose in a file. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.”

“All right,” Morgan started, pulling the attention of the whole team. “We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases, male. In the workplace, he’s socially confident. And with women, sexually confident. Every offense is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys they’re… they’re meticulous. It’s a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place.”

He was winding up, beginning to pace around the bullpen as he formulated his profile.

“They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move, every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. Like, when the kids are coming home from school and when daddy’ll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bathtime. Bedtime. Plan the work… work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control.

“He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.”

Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but for the first time that morning, Gideon emerged from the conference room, holding up the two paintings from Emily that he’d collected.

“Both are by Emily. Painted months apart. This one… is full of color, life,” he explained, holding up the framed photo from Frank Fielding’s house. “The one I found at Emily’s house has lines, dimensions. No color. Ambers, you said you saw other ones in her room?”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah. She had all sorts of paintings: fields, trees, stick figures, other kid stuff. I think the only color she didn’t use was black.”

He nodded, assuring her that she was confirming his thinking. “I believe Emily was coerced to paint this. It’s a point of view. It is his point of view. This is where the killer stood and just watched the family.”

“What does he get out of making them paint the house?” Lydia asked, but she was interrupted by Hotch dropping his wedding ring onto Elle’s desk.

They all stared for a moment as it spun, fell flat, and Hotch put it back onto his finger. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy. He targets a family because he lost his own, and for a few days, he gets to play daddy.”

“And he can do whatever he wants because no one’s gonna come looking because they’re supposed to be on vacation,” Morgan continued.

“Ambers, I want you to go to forensics and have them check the inside of Chris Crawford’s clothing,” Gideon instructed. “The suspect may have worn the father’s clothes, too. Complete the fantasy.”

She nodded.

“So, why kill them?” Elle asked.

“Because the fantasy can’t last,” Gideon reasoned.

“Do we know anything that actually helps us identify this bastard?” she demanded.

Lydia could tell she was getting more frustrated by the minute. She wondered briefly if Elle was naturally impatient.

“Wait a minute,” Morgan mumbled. “Chris Crawford worked for the I.R.S. and… Reese Miller was a secretary at the GAO.”

Elle sat forward. “That makes them both government employees.”

The team was already halfway out of their seats. Gideon reminded Lydia to head to forensics as soon as possible, before grabbing a file and leading the team to the elevator.

~ ~ ~

“Hey Garcia,” Lydia called as she walked into her office. “I just got off the phone with Gideon. He…” she paused, startled to find another presence in the room. “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry.”

He somehow seemed just as shocked to see her there. “Oh… hey, Lydia.”

The fear in his eyes made her suspect that she had walked in on something, but Garcia was completely unaffected. “What’s up with Gideon?” she asked, pulling Lydia’s attention back to her.

“Right. Both the Crawford’s and Reese Miller were seeing a therapist. He thinks that might be the connection.”

She nodded and began typing at a furious rate.

“Any luck in forensics?” Reid inquired.

Lydia shook her head. “No foreign DNA was found on the clothing in evidence. My guess is he washed everything before he left.”

“Here we are. The Crawfords made 12 weekly payments to the Applewood Family Medical Center,” Garcia interrupted.

“What about the Millers?” Reid asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a good look at the screen.

“No, nothing here.”

“How about pharmaceuticals? Nobody gets therapy these days without a healthy dose of medication.”

“What are you implying, Reid?”

“That everyone is medicated.”

Garcia stopped and looked up at the boy, shocked. “Did you just make a joke?”

“No,” he replied. “I meant statistics. They- They show that-”

She laughed and cut him off. “Reid, next time, just say yes, okay?”

He glanced at Lydia, like she might be able to explain it to him and she couldn’t hide the grin creeping on her face. He was somewhat of a goofball. Far different from the silent, stoic figure that she’d met in Santa Cruz.

“Now, medication normally requires reimbursement from the HMO, and since she works for the government, like you and I, we share the same healthcare provider.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “Are you hacking into the government’s HMO database? Is that legal?”

“‘Course not. We’ll all go to prison, you’ll be someone’s bitch, and Lydia will become a hustler.”

“Oh, hell yes!” Lydia cried and he grimaced.

“Really?”

 But Garcia was already onto the next topic. “Oh. Right there. Good call, Reid,” she complimented as a new page popped up on her screen. “Mrs. Reese Miller-- Diazepam.”

“Who prescribed the meds?” he asked.

“Dr. R. Howard at the Applewood Family Center. Let’s find out what he looks like. Here we go.” She did some more typing and a photo of a ginger woman popped up on the screen.  “... Dr. Howard isn’t a he.”

“That doesn’t add up. She fits the description, but Fielding said he saw a man.” Lydia pulled out her phone and dialed Gideon’s number right away. “Hey Gideon? Yeah, Garcia’s got a Dr. Rachel Howard at the Applewood Family Medical Center? Small woman, orange hair, and she prescribed Reese Miller anxiety meds. It’s the same facility that the Crawfords went to family therapy at.”

He made a sound of understanding and hung up.

“Oh, Lydia?” Garcia started again. “I sent an email to an administrator at a nearby university about you starting online courses.”

“What?!” She leapt forward and ran to the girl’s side. “You didn’t have to do that! What did you say?”

“I told them I’d hack their site and frame them for stealing from their students if they didn’t admit you immediately,” she joked.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh great. Thanks, Garcia.”

“No, silly! I just told them how brilliant you are and your plan to transfer to online classes while you worked for the FBI and I sent them your transcript-”

“Garcia! Where’d you even get that?”

“I thought you’d already graduated, Lydia,” Spencer spoke up.

She shrugged. “I got my undergraduate, but I had already applied to start getting my master’s degree when Gideon offered me this job. I guess experience might mean I don’t need it anymore, but I didn’t want to just drop out of school, so Garcia was helping me try and transfer to an online school so I could continue my education.”

“Do you plan to get a PhD?” he inquired.

Garcia gasped, suddenly. “Oo, you totally should. Then we’ll have another ‘Dr.’ on the team to compete with boy genius.”

Lydia laughed. “I’m not sure I could survive that. And I’m not sure anyone could compete with boy genius. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I mean, people with a doctorate tend to become college professors and do extensive research in their fields… I just want to look over crime scenes and work in a lab. The master’s degree was truly just to help me widen my options… and because I didn’t have anywhere else to go after graduation.”

“You know, a lot of agents become professors after they retire,” Reid explained.

“Not an agent-” Lydia tried to argue, but Garcia was getting excited again.

“Oo! Oo! Dr. Ambers! Tell me that’s not the coolest name!” she exclaimed.

Lydia smiled at her and Reid was suddenly reminded of something that happened back in California, when they had met.

“Hey, you didn’t flinch.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You have everyone call you Lydia. Because when Gideon called you ‘Miss’, you reacted badly. But you didn’t flinch when she called you Dr. Ambers.”

Lydia was speechless. She had never liked to be called by her last name, she knew that much to be true, but he was right, she hadn’t minded the new title. And now that she was thinking about it, the first few times Gideon called her ‘Ambers’, she’d been unsure, but she’d started to answer to it without hesitation. 

But how had Reid noticed? She’d barely noticed.

“You don’t like to be called Miss Ambers?” Garcia interrupted her thoughts, causing her to startle. “Oh, you’re right, Reid. She did flinch.”

“I don’t-” she started to complain, but stopped herself.  “Listen, I don’t think changing my title is reason enough to get a PhD. And I don’t have the money. My student debt is crazy and if I don’t get a full time job as soon as I get my master’s, there’s no way I’ll pay it off.”

“Oh, I can help you cut down the amount of time it takes. I had 3 PhDs by the time I was 21.”

Lydia turned on Reid with a look of utter shock. “Three? Three?! Reid, I know you’ve got your memory going for you, but that doesn’t even sound possible.”

He smiled, his lip curling in as if to hide his satisfaction. She could see a small blush grace his cheeks. “It is possible. For you, too. I’d be happy to help you get your doctorate… if that’s what you want.”

Lydia glanced between the two before her. They both seemed extremely excited by the prospect, which she couldn’t deny would be an awesome thing to accomplish. But time and money weren’t exactly things she could spare.

“I’ll consider it,” she agreed.

~ ~ ~

A little while later, Gideon sent Lydia on another errand, calling her to tell her to go to the medical center herself and help Hotch search for the trophies of the suspect they had taken into custody: Karl Arnold.

A CSI team had searched Karl’s house, and decided it was clear, which meant he likely kept his trophies in his office. And since Lydia was supposed to be the team expert on searching for things out of place, she hopped into one of the team's SUVs and drove herself to meet up with Hotch.

He was already well on his way through the office when she got there, every drawer and box open and many miscellaneous objects lying around. He started throwing books off a bookshelf and she ran over to join him.

He was starting to get really frustrated. He was muttering to himself, wondering how hard the crime scene investigators had searched the house, because there was clearly nothing here. Once all the shelves had been clear, he stepped back, still huffing.

Lydia eyes searched for other places around the room that could fit the missing wedding rings and quickly shushed Hotch, holding up her hands to make her point. He looked somewhat surprised at her command, but did as she said, and she went to work, knocking on the wall along each shelf. It had almost gotten too high for her to reach when a hollow knock could be heard.

She ran her fingers along the edges, searching for a lip or hinge that might open up to the other side. The top board seemed weakest, so she dug her nails into the top and yanked it free. With that one out of the way, the two below it were far easier to pull the nails from the wall and Hotch was quick to step in front of her and assess the items he’d hidden.

There was a tangle of belts, a stack of black, hardcover books, and a metal container, colored brightly, like an old music box.

Hotch went for this, pulling it down from the shelf and opening it carefully. While he did this, Lydia looked over the books. Each one was labeled with a name, but the horrifying bit was the amount that he had collected.

The team had assumed that he picked his victims one at a time, did his research, then killed them, but he had so many families hidden here. Lydia wondered how long he might have been stalking these people without their knowledge, but Hotch brought the box to her attention.

She turned and felt sick. The container he was holding had eight wedding rings in it, all masculine. She flipped around to look at the journals again and was overwhelmed by the realization that these weren’t families he was stalking, he’d already killed them.

He’d been doing this for far longer than they’d suspected.

“Congrats,” Hotch said. It was the first time he’d spoken to her since she got there. “You just solved your first case.”

[imnotwolverine]

A warm heart(h)

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: The Christmas vibes continue, including some cute moments with Marianne, Henry’s mom. No smut, just fluff this time <3 Have a nice Wednesday! 

Word count: 3.985

Disclaimer: fluff 

--

This is part 14 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the Masterlist here. 

--

< Go back to part 13

He speaks just like his father, I thought, looking at the two men as they were chatting.

I was sitting in the back of the car while Henry and his father were sitting in front, their melodic voices having an animated conversation which I couldn’t quite follow over the loud racket. Was it about Henry’s motorcycles? Or Kal? 

I soon gave up my futile attempts to figure it out as the car continued to hurdle itself over the loud, bumpy country road that seemed to go on for miles now. I let out a silent sigh as I pressed my travel weary head against the cold glass of the SUV and looked outside. The fields were freshly frosted with white tips of snow, the crisp white merging almost seamlessly with the grey sea in the distance.

The Jersey Islands were every bit as picturesque as Henry had described them. Its rocky cliffs held up an island that was coasted with a number of quaint little villages, a natural reserve, a castle and a zoo. Especially the zoo held a special place in his heart. He had spoken about it in great length while he had shown me some pictures of the Durrell challenge - a yearly running event he was an ambassador for. Yes, this island sure seemed nice and I could totally imagine him as a small boy, running through the fields, climbing in the trees and diving in the sea on a hot summer’s day.

‘You okay back there dear?’ Henry’s voice awoke me from my stare. I sat up a bit, leaning forward so he could hear me over the loud noise. ‘I’m fine.’ The car shook wildly as it drove over a pothole. ‘Could use a cup of tea though.’ I said, touching his cheek. He smiled, moving his head slightly to rub his cheek into my hand. I sniffled, seeing the look his dad was giving us.

Colin was everything you expected a dad to be. A big, burly man with a small heart and that unmistakable dad humour that made everyone cringe in slight embarrassment. The same embarrassment I kind of felt right now, as Henry finished his very eager cheek rub by planting a loving kiss in the palm of my hand. Henry and Colin shared a look between them that I could not fully decipher, but it sure was something along the lines of; “Like it or not, dad, I’m going full PDA in your face.” To which Colin thought “Oh will you now? Be careful before me and your mom start doing the same.”

I snickered at the thought.  

‘We’re almost there lovebirds. Almost.’ Colin rumbled.

—

This week was all about Christmas. We had started off with a small dinner at our place with some of Henry’s friends on Monday. Henry and I had cooked some simple fair since we had little time on our hands, but it had been fun nonetheless. Henry’s friends were surprisingly normal people. Mostly middle aged, slightly balding men with wives who definitely over-plucked their eyebrows. And boy could they drink. It had been a while since I last had a hangover, but Tuesday definitely was hangover day. Much to Henry’s amusement, who had had his hangover from hell just a week earlier. Aren’t we quite the pair?

Thursday we had flown to the Netherlands for a Christmas dinner with my parents. And I must say. I don’t think I’ve ever, ever in my life, seen my mom act this awkwardly around guests. She was fidgeting endlessly, getting up at every whim to ask Henry if he really didn’t need anything else. Coffee? Tea? Beer? Wine? She had downed almost a whole bottle of red wine before she had calmed down to the point that we could have an actual conversation. Poor mom. Thankfully, other then a bit of an awkward start, it had been nice. Kal had totally captured my parent’s hearts - yes they are dog lovers - and Henry’s down to earth, relaxed demeanour had further calmed their worries about “their daughter dating this movie star”.

And now we had finally arrived at his parent’s home. A house that quite perfectly fit the bill of “countryside”, it’s shape barn-like and the large number of classically glazed windows offering a lovely view over the crisp white fields around us.

The car drove up a small driveway as the wheels crunched over the freshly fallen snow. ‘Good thing you arrived early. There’s more snow expected later this afternoon.’ Colin said in his rich brit accent, turning his steering wheel to park the car underneath the carport. ‘Home sweet home.’ Henry cheered in equal vibrant brit timber - he sure got his voice from his dad - jumping out of the car to reach for my door and hold it open. I felt slightly embarrassed by his never ending gallantry as I accepted his reached out hand. ‘Milady.’ He smiled, earning an amused chuckle from me. ‘Darling.’ I mused, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before moving to the back of the car to help his father move our suitcases inside.

—

The house was surprisingly large. We arrived in a spacious hallway, which was heavily decorated; wreaths wrapped around the staircase railing, hundreds of small lights that adorned every nook and cranny, and a small Christmas tree to boot. If you think English countryside at Christmas, this was probably the first thing you’d imagine.

We stalled our suitcases next to the door as Marianne appeared from the kitchen, her appearance every bit the dainty housemother. She was wearing a pink apron, her pale blond hair neatly coiffed, as her hands were still wrapped around a big white mixing bowl. ‘My dears! Come in, come in! Let me put this down real quick.’ She moved back inside the kitchen as Henry followed her, his step as excited as that of a kid who just came home from school. I followed them, walking into the spacious kitchen.

What a dream kitchen. In the middle there was a large oak and grey granite kitchen island with some bar stools, which was surrounded by dove grey kitchen cabinets stretching along one side of the wall, the other wall offering a handsome view over the surrounding meadows through the many, many windows. The air was already filled with a mixture of scents. Roasting meat, spices, sweet cake, a hint of coffee. Hmmm. I took an appreciative deep breath while Henry gave his mother a big bear hug.

‘It smells delicious in here Marianne!’ I exclaimed as she unfolded herself from Henry’s embrace, reaching out her arms to also give me a hug. She smiled. ‘Well it’s Christmas only once a year!’ She cooed, wrapping her skinny arms around me. I noticed in the corner of my eye that Henry had already moved to the stove, stirring one of the pots and eagerly sniffing in the smells. ‘Mmm! This is going to be delicious mom. Any idea when the others will arrive?’ Henry asked, looking at his mom as she joined him at the stove. ‘Not until five [o’clock]. Piers and Charlie are out for a long hike with the wives and kids.. and they only left like..half an hour ago. So plenty of time to get comfortable. Can I get you two something to drink? Eat?’ She put the lid back on the pot that Henry was stirring, gesturing him to sit down. He smiled, kissing his mother on the forehead before moving to one of the bar stools. I also sat down and sighed: ‘A cup of tea, no milk, no sugar, would be..most welcome right now.’

Marianne nodded, a half-smile painted on her lips as she noticed the exhaustion slip through my smiles. She didn’t hesitate a moment to put a kettle on the stove. ‘And you dear?’ She quickly peered at Henry, whom had aimed his gaze at me. I looked from his mom back at him, a silent question in my eyes. ‘You okay dear?’ He brushed a hand over my back, looking at me intently. ‘I’m okay. Really. Just a bit tired. A cup of tea would do me wonders right now.’ I said, offering him a reassuring smile. He nodded, his lips turning in a soft smile before looking back at his mother. ‘Tea would be lovely mum, thanks.’

—

A few hours later the others returned from their hike. Within moments the quiet house was filled with trampling children’s feet, laughter and the rich smell of the hot cocoa I had been making together with Marianne - I had been helping her out in the kitchen.

It was the first time meeting Charlie, Piers and their wives and children, but thankfully this was once again a really relaxed meet-up. The Cavills - or should I say Cavilleers as they called themselves? - truly appeared to be a friendly lot. They acted like I had been part of this family for years already, which was the best and most comforting feeling in the world.

While dinner was being prepared the kids had folded themselves in some blankets in front of the television, the adults busying themselves with setting up the table and sipping on well-earned glasses of hot, spiced wine. This was as Christmassy as one could get, I decided, leaning against one of the kitchen countertops while Marianne instructed the men what should go where.

‘How long have you been cooking them Christmas dinners now?’ I asked as she turned back around to sip on her wine. She shrugged. ‘Forever and a day. I believe I started when I met Colin. And well..now there’s five grown boys and then some.’ She smiled, taking another sip. Piers had wandered back in the kitchen. ‘Anything else?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. ‘Oh no, that’ll be all. I think in 15 minutes we’re ready for the first course.’ Marianne smiled. Piers didn’t waste a moment, turning on his heel and slipping back to the living room where the others were residing.

I felt her grey blue eyes giving me a warm, yet curious look-over. ‘It’s quite different without all those fans around, no?’ She winked, walking back to the stove to stir in the curried leak-potato soup that was slowly heating up. ‘Yes. A whole, whole lot more relaxed. And thank you again for having me for dinner. Truly. Shall I toast the toppings real quick or do you want them fresh?’ I asked, moving to the kitchen island where all garnishes and toppings were neatly splayed out.

‘Oh perhaps that’d be nice. Yes, a quick toast of the almonds would be great. Good thinking.’ She smiled, pointing at a pan I could use. ‘Do you and Henry cook together?’ She asked as I started toasting the almonds, her hand still languidly stirring the soup. ‘As often as we can, though on workdays it’s currently mostly me doing the cooking since he’s home much later.’ I shrugged, tilting the pan with a short tug to skilfully flip the roasting almonds. ‘And for you and Colin?’ ‘Same.’ She shrugged in turn. We both chuckled.

‘You know I’ve never seen him so..openly affectionate with anyone.’ Marianne said, offering a cheeky smile. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks - or was it the hot stove? - and smiled awkwardly. ‘Well I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never known any other Henry.’ Our eyes met again, both amused. ‘Has he always been so chivalrous?…That’s the word right? Chivalrous?’ I asked. ‘Yes, that word totally befits him. Oh goodness. From the moment he could talk he’d say “please” and “thank you”. Obsessing over these fantasy books of his, imagining himself to be Sir Lancelot or the likes. The courteous behaviour kind of stuck from there.’ Marianne crooned, recalling the sweet memory. ‘That’s adorable… And so befitting him.’ I chuckled, removing the almonds from the fire.

‘And I heard he met your parents? What was that like?’ I heard Marianne ask as I scooped the almonds back in a small container. ‘Oh..super awkward. But fun nonetheless. It’s was a bit of a challenge for my parents to speak English and well..let’s say..my mom was not totally ready for his good looks?’

Marianne laughed heartily as she turned away from the stove to give me another look up and down. ‘My dear you are so pretty yourself I hardly believe you never brought home some handsome gent before you met Henry.’ She praised. I shook my head. ‘Only one. And he was good looking, sure. But not..the Henry-kind of good looking. If I had been my mom, I’d TOTALLY have stared as well hahah.’ We shared another knowing look before both bursting out laughing, the hot wine making our cheeks glow.

‘Ladies…’

We quickly straightened our faces, suppressing further chuckles as Henry appeared in the doorway. ‘Are we almost ready for the first course?’ He asked, looking at both our rosy cheeked faces, an amused smile brushing over his lips. We both nodded, wide smiles on our faces as Marianne turned down the hob and took a deep breath to calm her chuckles. ‘Yes dear. Let us eat. Can you call for the others?’ She said, laughter still thick in her pretty brit accent. Henry nodded slowly, not fully wanting to leave now his curiosity had peaked regarding the conversation me and his mom had just had.

“Go” I gestured with my eyes, seeing him hesitate. He peered at us for another moment. ‘Alright then. Keep your secrets, fair ladies.’ He said, winking and striding back towards the living room.

And so started the yearly Cavill Christmas dinner.

—

A half a wine rack of wine bottles later, the kids put to bed and the fireplace cracking, we had settled down for a cozy night.

The others were playing a board game on the kitchen table, while me, Henry and Marianne had made ourselves comfortable near the fireplace. Marianne had sat down on one of the couches, me and Henry on the opposing couch. We spoke a bit about some meddling subjects. Maintenance of the house. Colin’s retirement. The health of some family members. Holiday plans from Marianne and Colin.

I couldn’t help but slowly sink deeper and deeper into Henry’s chest, the fireplace and his heavy arm blanketing me in a soothing warm embrace. Before long my eyes started to droop, my ears no longer registering the conversation as I fell into a most welcome slumber after this long month of almost constant travelling.

—

‘So how are you two doing?’

His mother’s voice sounded through the thick veil of sleep. Were we still in the living room?

Probably, I decided. I could feel the gentle heat from the fireplace near us and hear the distinct sound of fire crackling. I got intrigued by the conversation and couldn’t help myself but remain completely still so they wouldn’t know I was listening, feigning to still be deep asleep, my head now resting on Henry’s lap.

‘Good mom. So good.’ Henry spoke. I could imagine him smiling right now, as his hands were slowly caressing my hair. ‘I didn’t know a relationship could be this ..normal. I feel like a normal person with her and that is more than I could ever have asked for.’ He halted petting my hair as his body slightly shifted, one of his hands untangling from my hair as I heard some soft footsteps on the carpet near us. Probably someone was reaching him a drink, as I now felt his abs press into the back of my head as he bent forward.

‘Thanks,’ He said, relaxing back into the seat, his one hand free hand continuing to caress my hair softly.

‘Oh darling. I can’t be happier. Finally! Goodness..’ His mother’s voice was a bit shivery. ‘Mom..’ Henry said sweetly - probably giving her that sweet, knowing smile. ‘Oh I’m being silly. It’s just..ooph..’ She snouted her nose in something. ‘..It’s just that I was feeling so sad for you. You were trying so hard. And all these girls. They were nice..but not quite right..not for you. You know?’ She spoke, her voice still a touch emotional. ‘I know mom. I was there…believe it or not.’ He sighed.

I could almost feel his eyes look at me, were it not for the fact that I couldn’t actually see as I was pretending to still be asleep. I imagined the way he was looking at me with those silent, ocean blue eyes. Full of admiration and love.

It made me think of a question one of my friends had recently asked; whether I got insecure when being around him - since he was so good looking - and I had simply answered; never because of him. There was not a slither of a doubt in my mind he thought me beautiful, the centre of his love and affection. If anything, he doused me with so much PDA I sometimes came to the point of complete embarrassment (sorry colleagues, sorry friends). 

All the more glad I had been when he had kept it on the down low when his little nieces and nephews had joined around the dinner table, their curious faces quietly deciding whether or not I was “cool”. 

‘And I heard from Sarah that you are taking a bit of a hiatus from work?’ His mom continued. ‘Oh..no, not really a hiatus. More like..getting my schedule to a point that our relationship doesn’t completely revolve around me and my work. We’ve decided to split our schedules. Half the year she follows me around, the other half of the year I follow her around.’ He said. ‘Oh my!..So you are really serious about this. Oh Henry! Sweetheart! I’m so happy for you. This is just so good. OH!’ Her voice quivered again.

‘Is mom being the good ol’ sensitive Sally again?’ Charlie’s voice sounded from the doorway.

‘Oh stop it you.’ Marianne retorted, sniffing her nose again. Henry chuckled softly. ‘It’s fine mom.’ He said sweetly as Charlie’s feet shuffled to the couch Marianne was sitting on. ‘It’s okay mom, we love you all the same.’ Charlie crooned, the couch whiffing as he plopped down next to Marianne. ‘Oh Charlie, don’t tease. And weren’t you playing a game?’ ‘Yea, though I’m..unfortunately..on the losing end, so a few moments respite to come up with some new tactics should be allowed.’ Charlie said. ‘Ah, Piers still kicking your butt?’ Henry chuckled. ‘Not even. It’s the ladies you oughta watch out for.’ Charlie chuckled in turn. I heard Marianne sigh, her breaths becoming more steady now.  

‘Looks like she could use a bed, no?’ Charlie suggested - probably looking at me, sleeping on Henry’s lap. Oh no, don’t. I want to stay! Please! I want to hear what you all have to say. Besides, Henry’s lap is SO comfortable. My mind raced, as I tried to keep a deep slow breathing rhythm. Fake sleep Lisa. Nice and calm. Henry hummed. ‘It’s fine. Just going to finish this drink and then we’ll call it a night. I could definitely use a good snooze as well.’ He sighed. ‘You do look tired my dear. Work’s been busy?’ ‘Yes. Almost constant travel, lots of interviews, cast calls, meetings, you know the drill. I’m glad we have a week off now.’ ‘And so is she, from the looks of it.’ Charlie chuckled.

Marianne huffed. ‘Oh I can remember the days that you didn’t shy away from using napping as the perfect excuse, Charlie dear. Remember? Whenever you had to do a chore, you’d just take a nap instead… I sure do remember.’ She laughed, a tone of mockery in her voice. ‘Mommm.’ Charlie whispered, slightly embarrassed. Henry laughed in turn. ‘Oh..I remember that far too well.’ He said, his hand that had been stroking my hair now halting.

Was he looking at me? I could almost feel his eyes on me.

‘She does look cute when she sleeps.’ Charlie said. Henry hummed in agreement. ‘She looks cute, always.’ ‘Except for when you’re in a fight, right?’ Charlie quipped.

‘Actually..we’ve never had a fight.’ Henry almost sounded surprised himself. ‘We just..communicate really well. Talk about everything on our minds. No secrets.’ Henry said, matter of factly. ‘Ah, so you two already talked about..big future plans?’ Charlie got more curious and I could hear Marianne gasp softly. My heart fluttered. Henry however, remained quiet for a moment as his hand moved to softly brush my cheek. ‘Perhaps that’s the one thing we really should start discussing. I mean. Sure we had some chats. We both want kids, perhaps another dog, and at some point a house with a nice garden so she can make a vegetable garden. And..marriage…of course. But..we haven’t really discussed when…’ His voice trailed off as he shifted a bit.

‘Ohh I know that look brother.’ Charlie squealed in excitement. Gosh. I missed something. Had he given them a certain look? A wink? Had he showed them something? ‘Anyways. I don’t want to rush it either. I know she doesn’t want it to be rushed. So we’re just gonna take these steps one at a time.’ He said, soon after taking a last swig of his drink and moving his body to probably place the cup on the sidetable. ‘And now..’ His hand brushed my hair back again. ‘We’re going to bid you good night.’

‘Good night Henners.’ Charlie said and his mother also cued in: ‘Oh do I need to help? Or can I get you anything?’ She said, her mom-mode activated again. Henry chuckled as his large arms easily scooped me up, lifting me off the couch. ‘Mom, it’s fine, please. I’ll see you all in the morning. Good night.’  

I felt the heat of the fire fall away as Henry moved us through the cool hallway. I involuntarily shivered, leaning harder into Henry’s chest. He hummed softly, pulling me slightly closer. ‘I know you’re awake.’ He whispered. I groaned softly, peaking open one eye to look up at him. Dammit. How did he even know? He chuckled softly, seeing me sneakily peering at him, his legs now walking us up the stairs. ‘How’d you know?’ I croaked. ‘I’ve seen and felt you sleep next to me a hundred times. I KNOW when you are asleep.’ ‘Sorry,’ I said softly. He hummed again, moving us around the corner of the hallway to walk to the bedroom at the end. ‘Don’t be. It was..kind of fun. Besides. Mom and Charlie definitely didn’t know.’ He spoke as he got to the door. ‘Now..if you could..help me out a bit.’ He whispered, glancing at the door knob. I giggled and quickly turned it so the door fell open.

Usually I would have protested him for carrying me to bed. But honestly..this time I didn’t mind at all. I felt so tired I doubt I could have moved up those stairs without my eyelids closing again - they were closed again now - and it was so very sweet how Henry carefully laid me down onto the bed. I sighed and felt the heavy weight of sleep crawl over me, not even noticing how Henry started to unbutton my pants. The lights went out after what had probably been one of my most relaxing Christmases ever.

--

Part 15 > 

[vandorens-archive]

ten questions tag | i was tagged by: @mshelleys, @emdrabbles, @pe-ersona, @evergrcen and @septemberliterature. thank you so much, and i’m so sorry i’m getting to this so late!

everything is under the cut!

@mshelleys

i. if you could change the genre of one of your wips, what would you change it to and how would the story/characters change?

So, trahison already features a ghost and a brief stay at a manor. have i considered turning it into a full fledged horror because of that? perhaps.

ii. do you think of your characters as actors playing a part in a movie or as people in history actually doing things that effect the future?

i think of them as actors playing in one long, crazy, unpredictable play. 

iii. role swap your protagonist and antagonist but keep their personalities the same; how different would your story be?

honestly, not different at all, because when it comes to it, the subject of trahison’s antagonist (s) is pretty complex. 

iv. are any of your characters based on you, family, friends, or someone else you know?

oh, absolutely. my characters range between self inserts, to characters i wish i was more like, to characters that are essentially walking, talking, breathing love letters to the people i care about.  

v. how long have you had your main protagonist(s) of your wip(s)?

I’ve been working with marin, nate and ruby for years, long before they were even called that and were a part of a dystopian crime novel (don’t ask). antoine joined them soon after, followed a while later by beth and isadora, and miles was invented during the plotting stage. 

vi. do you prefer to write chronologically or just make a bunch of scenes and order them after they’re written?

it depends on what i’m working on and how serious i am about it, but if we’re only talking about trahison, then chronologically!

vii. imagine the problem in your wip is sorted out, how would the protagonist recount the story to their children if they asked?

with a far away look in his eyes and an uncharacteristic fondness in his voice, marin would turn to his children, and tell them how extraordinary his friends were during his university years—their zeal, their inquisitiveness, and conveniently leaving out the uncomfortable loyalty they all had towards each other, until time and life’s commands separated them. 

viii. favorite (non-spoilery) line(s) of your current wip(s)?

This small bit of description, albeit a little purple prose-y, is one that i’m very, very proud of.

“ The morning rain had made its grave in the dirt, the bittersweet smell—like exotic black tea—rising into the air. It was the night pluviophiles came to dance. If I think hard, I can still taste the ghost of the raindrops on my tongue and sense Beth’s radiating warmth beside me; its own ghost ” - trahison, chapter three

ix. if your wip was a movie, could you see it be done in the 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, or 2010s? why that decade in particular?

so, fun fact, i hadn’t decided when to set trahison (see: the big question mark in my plotting notebook) but i have recently made up my mind and decided to set it in the seventies! if it was a film, then i could see it being made in seventies france! very a la the dreamers.

x. are you able to just make up a story on the spot, or do you need help (plot generators or other outside influences)?

sometimes i’ll take the help of prompts or media, but otherwise i just come up with things on my own!

@emdrabbles

i. what do the names of your main characters mean? did you pick them for the meaning or another reason?

i picked the trahison characters’ names based on two things: how much it related to the character’s backstory or personality, and how pleasing it sounded out loud. here are the meanings of their names:

marin — of the sea

ruby — deep red; precious stone; behold a son

elizabeth — god is my oath

nathaniel — gift from god

antoine — priceless one; beyond praise

isadora — gift of Isis

ii. what book are you currently reading?

I’m currently reading the time machine by h.g wells!

iii. last sentence written?

“ When the end of the world comes — I’ll film it ” — copycat, or the one where i predict the future. 

iv. who are some of your faceclaims?

i usually don’t use faceclaims, but if i had to choose:

marin van doren (trahison) — timor simakov

eloi hill (psychophantia) — maxence danet fauvel

cass parker (penny lane) — monica tomas

v. gimme some worldbuilding facts!!

alright, here’s one: in the world of psychophantia, not only is the magic system and your powers controlled by your morals, but so is your social ranking, your education, and any future you may have—to an extent. 

vi. do you outline? if so, do you have a specific method?

i’m a plotter and only really work well with a solid outline, however, my outlines range from a series of messy, incoherent bullet points to meticulous scene-by-scene planning based around the three act structure. this post is my go to for plotting assistance! 

vii. favourite author?

Like every tumblr user ever, i love donna tartt and maggie stiefvater, but i’m also a huge fan of f.scott fitzgerald, agatha christie and vera caspary!

viii. what is your oldest wip?

trahison! It went through many, many changes — from changes in genre to changes in character names, and there’s still a possibility that it could change even further. 

ix. what is your favourite wip?

every wip i reblog under my #others. tag! You all are so damn talented!

x. where do you get your inspiration from?

everywhere around me! from conversations i have with people, from films and books i consume, from the music on the radio — i like that anything and everything can inspire me to create.

@pe-ersona

i. in one sentence, explain your current wip!

a group of secretive students attempt to become immortal, only to uncover the worst parts of themselves — and each other — as they do. 

ii. was writing your main interest or did you have other interests?

although writing is my main interest (see: my social media bio on every platform ever), i also like to journal, sew, cook and make videos! my interests usually do have to do with the intention of creation. 

iii. what’s your favorite genre to write? to read?

I love writing horror and mysteries. those are my favourite genres, but i also love reading a good contemporary romance!

iv. what is one goal you have for your wip this year? how’s that goal going?

to finish the first draft! so far, not so bad, though i do wish i could write more, but unfortunately, time constraints plus school restrict me from doing so. 

v. how old is your wip? or when did you start writing your wip?

trahison is nearly three years old, but i only started writing the current version of it a year ago. 

vii. what scene made you cry or laugh or both?

these lines made me laugh out loud the first time i wrote them:

“ Up the stairs stumbled Miles, my slovenly genius roommate. He grinned at the giggles and winked at the exasperated stares. 

The gall of him! 

I wanted to be him. 

He managed to find his balance enough to reach our dorm. I immediately stepped back to let him in, and to make sure I was in no association with his uncomposed state. Nate gave a disapproving look at his back as he staggered in. 

I took another step back, raised a pointed eyebrow, and closed the door ” — trahison, chapter three

vii. how many ocs does your wip have? who’s your favourite?

my main wip, trahison, has six main characters. out of the main six, my favourite has to be nathaniel. he is very much the epitome of pure, and sometimes i wonder how he ended up in the middle of such a dark plot. 

vii. you have a brand new idea for a wip, what do you do? 

brainstorm, brainstorm, brainstorm. scribble down whatever the hell pops up in my brain, attempt to link it together by a thin string of yarn, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

ix. you are having your first book-signing, where are you?

i’m in a small bookstore, nestled in a corner near the storage room. almost no one knows about this town, so the line is small but chatty, fans exchanging theories and analysing certain paragraphs. the sight of them makes me feel warm inside. 

x. you have the ability to live in any book, publishing or not, what would it be?

would it be too cliche to say the harry potter universe? other than that, other worlds i would love to be a part of is the world in my novel penny lane, or in midst of a detective story.

@evergrcen / @septemberliterature

i. how did you come up with your wip’s title? what does it mean in relation to the story?

okay, so i discovered the word ‘trahison’ after hearing my french teacher say it, and immediately knew i had to use it for something. ‘trahison’ means betrayal or treason in french, which is one of the main themes in the novel. 

ii. do you title your chapters? if so, what’s your favourite?

I don’t, but I would love to!!

iii. what’s a recent line you really like?

Not a very dramatic or noteworthy line, but here’s one from a poem i’m writing:

“ So the two of you get in the car, proceeding to have an argument with the radio ” — examples of easy solutions, or the one where the internet has no answers. 

iv. are there any writing-related quotes you really like?

“i think a lot of art is trying to make someone love you” — keaton henson

v. do you have an idea for a cover design for your story?

A black background with serif text, that’s it. It’s simple. It’s mysterious. It’s the type of vibe I want to exude. 

vi. what sort of au can you imagine your story being?

...dark academia au anyone?

just kidding. in all seriousness, though, i can see a royalty/political au for trahison, or a medieval fantasy au!

vii. which oc would be the most angry with you as the writer?

eloi. i really need to give that poor boy a break. 

viii. if you had to tell the story from a different pov, which character would you choose?

ruby! she’s the token enigma of trahison, so i think her point of view would be very interesting to see. 

ix. what would be your oc’s taste in music if they lived in our world?

OKAY let’s see:

marin — classic rock, so the who, queen, def leppard.etc

ruby — that one person who you’re pretty sure only listens to classical music, but is actually very attuned to modern day music. she would mostly listen to female singer-songwriters, so take lorde, marina, lana del rey, and other such artists. 

beth — take one look at her playlist, and you’ll see that ninety five percent of it is mitski, while the other five percent is bedroom pop. she would like very tender, calm, cry to in bed music. 

Antoine — same as marin, but add other modern day music artists with eclectic sounds, such as twenty one pilots, arctic monkeys, that sort of thing.

nathaniel — classical music, instrumentals, and film soundtracks make up his playlist. if it has sung words, he won’t listen to it. has little to no understanding of modern day music and is too scared to find out more about it.

isadora — 2000’s diva pop plays in the background of her life. rihanna is her go to whenever she gets to control the party. Don’t be surprised if ‘rich girl’ by gwen stefani starts playing in your head at the sight of her. 

x. what’s one personal goal you want to achieve by the end of the story?

finishing it with pride!

[styomi]

Flowers and gemstones | Chapter 3 | Sweet Pea/OC

I’m glad to see that you guys are enjoying yourselves with this :D I hope that this chapter is going to be as fun for you as it was for me to write :)

Info:

Rating: T Word count: 4363 Chapter count: 3/? Faceclaim: Ruby Wolfe – India Eisley Jo Wolfe – Adrian Paul Mattie – Elle Fanning Lucas Bradshaw – Lucas Till

Jobs and sass

They had barely made it into the empty cafeteria before two dozen students poured in behind them. The area seemed rather wild to Ruby at first glance, divided into a few different sections with an iron fence with gates. She was briefly reminded of an animal shelter she used to volunteer at back in Annapolis and frowned, wrinkling her nose.

“Hey, Silver,” A tall boy with a mop of curly dark hair came over, slapping Lucas on the back. “Who’s the chick?” Ruby found herself holding her ground, though she would’ve preferred standing behind her tour guide. But, her instincts told her that if she backed away now, she would be prey for the rest of her time at this high school. And, the Wolfe family were never prey.

“New sophomore, I’m showing her around.” Replied Lucas easily. He turned to Ruby, motioning with his head to his friend.

“Ruby Wolfe.” The girl introduced herself, offering her hand. The curly haired boy laughed, but accepted it, shaking it in a strong grip. He was dressed similarly to Lucas, like he’d just hopped out of a punk band’s gig. Dark skinny jeans, hanging chains and a tattoo on his arm, large and clearly visible. It depicted some kind of a mythological beast, similar to a snake.

“Levi,” he introduced himself back with an easygoing grin. “Like the Leviathan.” Levi elaborated, showing off the tattoo which covered almost his whole forearm. Ruby looked from him to Lucas.

“Does everyone here have odd nicknames?” The two boys shared a look at her dubious tone and laughed.

“Pretty much,” Lucas explained and waved them all over to a table in the middle of the cafeteria. “They’re mostly gang nicknames and people tend to take pride in them, preferring them over their real names.”

“I see,” Ruby nodded, which made the two boys share an amused look as they all sat down. “I’ll get used to it eventually, I suppose.” She shrugged.

“Has Silver shown you all the ins and outs yet?” Levi asked, looking around as he straddled the bench. There was a group of students heading for the other side of the fence, as if segregating themselves from the rest of their peers. Some went towards the doors in the back, leaving the cafeteria and walking into the summer sun.

“I think I’ve got all the info I need for now,” Ruby nodded. Lucas seemed to beam from his spot. “I’m going to head out, if that’s alright? I’ve still got some errands to run.”

“Of course,” Lucas nodded. “Take care, Ruby. I’ll see you in August?” Ruby turned as she was leaving, offering them both a smile and small wave.

“Definitely!” And, the girl followed another group of students towards the back door, leaving the school halls. She exited on the other side, the small parking lot to her right and the main entrance even further that way, after taking another right at the corner. There was a group of students with green snake logos on their jackets walking in front of her, and Ruby shamelessly followed them.

Soon enough, she reached the parking, spotting her car. The leather-clad group of teens settled down on the steps that led down to the lot, taking out some snacks and spreading them in the middle of the circle. Ruby wondered how they weren’t cooking in those leather jackets. It was too hot for those. She looked up, seeing a few more groups sitting in their own spots. Five students were near her car, talking and laughing, passing some kind of a small ball between them with only their feet. She made a mental note to try and avoid them when she went to her vehicle. They were too loud for her liking.

Luck wasn’t in her favor that day, apparently. Ruby passed the group on the steps that ignored her and headed for her car only to hear a catcall from the loud boys with the ball. With a glance at them, she saw one of them making a crude motion with his hips, before sending her an air kiss. Ruby chose to ignore that and headed for the driver’s side of her car. But, luck was definitely not in her favor.

“Why’re you in such a hurry, Northie?” The boy who’d catcalled appeared in her path, cutting her off from her car. From the Archie book of Riverdale trivia, she’d gathered that the nickname was supposed to be demeaning. Had she really dressed too fancy that day? She would need some more leather and chains, then. The boy in front of her was taller than her and had more muscle on him, but she knew that that didn’t mean anything in a one on one fight. She could take him, if it came down to it.

“Yeah, stick around Northsider. We’ll show you a good time.” Now, there was a body behind her, the heat transferring to her back from how close the student was. Ruby looked over her shoulder to see that it was the one who’d blown her the air kiss. The other three from the group were also stalking forward, abandoning their ball.

“I’d advise you, from the bottom of my cold heart, to get out of my way.” Ruby’s tone had a warning to it, but it just made the boys laugh. By then, almost everyone in the parking lot was looking at them, waiting to see how the scene would unfold.

“Northie’s got spunk!” The boy in front of her came closer, his hands going for her hips. In an instant, Ruby moved, pulling out the familiar rectangular object from the back pocket of her jeans. She had been reluctant to take it with her, but she was glad that she had. Just in case.

A buzzing noise rang throughout the parking lot and the boy in front of her fell to the ground, shaking with the aftershock of being tasered. There was a moment of silence, before the remaining for boys moved in on her quickly. The one behind her grabbed her arms, successfully preventing her from using her taser again. Though, Ruby didn’t only have that to protect herself with. She let out a whistle, which was followed by a loud bark.

Chili threw himself out the open window of her car, sleek body rushing towards her with a loud growl. Instantly, the boys backed off, frightened expressions on their faces. Chili’s teeth were bared and his eyes were going from one to the other teen. They had bothered his mistress.

“Chili, be cool,” Ruby instructed, petting his head when he nuzzled into her knee. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to see a good time with you guys anytime soon,” she told the four teens who were watching the large Staffordshire warily. “I like my men with a little more backbone.” And Ruby walked away with Chili hot on her heels, ignoring the laughter and cheering coming from the other students in the parking lot.

“Hey, dad! I’m back,” Ruby greeted in a loud voice, entering the home and heading for the kitchen to wash her hands and make some coffee. She felt a little groggy after her exploration of the school. “Want some coffee?!”

“Sure,” Jo’s voice startled her, coming from the doorway to the living room. She had expected him to be upstairs, in the attic, fixing the roof with Fred and Archie. “How was the school?”

“It was… interesting,” Ruby laughed and he chuckled along. “Where are the Andrews?”

“Fred got a job and had to bail,” Jo sighed, leaning back onto the kitchen table. “I get it, that job’s more lucrative and gives him work for the rest of the summer.” Ruby poured the coffee, adding cream and sugar to hers. She placed the two cups, obviously meant for tea back in the day, on the table. They were white and decorated with a dark green forest all around the rim.

“We can push a little harder and get it done ourselves, no?” She asked, watching her father take a small sip of his coffee, before sighing.

“I think it’s time I went to the Wyrm and saw if they wanted some legit work.” Jo grumbled, as if surrendering to the inevitable.

“The Whyte Wyrm?” Ruby asked curiously. “Isn’t that a gang headquarters or something?” Jo laughed.

“It’s a bar. But, yeah, it doubles as the Southside Serpents’ base of operations,” the man told her. “They are a rowdy bunch, but they do take a lot of legit jobs on the side for extra cash. If they’re interested, it could be a good way to get all of that ruined stuff down from the attic and fix up some of the furniture down here.” Ruby nodded.

“If you think that’s a good idea, I’m fine with it.”

Jo returned home in the afternoon with half a dozen leather-wearing men on motorcycles following his Mustang onto the Wolfe property. He had been surprised to enter the Whyte Wyrm and ask to see the Serpents’ King, only to be led to his old high school buddy, FP Jones. The man looked a little worse for wear, but years hadn’t been too kind on him. His wife had left, taking the younger of their two children with him. And, shortly afterward, his son had moved out, living God knows where, and leaving FP to find solace at the bottom of a bottle. But, Jo had easily convinced the head Serpent that taking a legit job for once would be both good pay and good work. So, after FP had made a few phone calls, Jo had a small demolition crew of about a dozen gangsters. The ones present at the bar had followed him home right away and the rest would be coming straight from the quarry, a popular hangout spot for the younger members.

“Damn, Jo,” FP looked the house over from the outside, unhooking his helmet and nudging out the kickstand of his motorcycle with his foot. “That doesn’t look too homey.”

“You should’ve seen it a week ago,” the former Navy SEAL grumbled. “Ruby and I have done some work and Fred helped out with the roof. It’s mostly leak proofed now.”

“Fred Andrews?” FP asked.

“The one and only,” confirmed Jo. “He got a better job offer, though. It’s just us now.” FP motioned for the Serpents to follow them into the house and they entered. The inside smelled of slightly stale air, dust and old wood.

“Jesus, you plan on living here?” FP asked, turning in a circle and looking around the living room. There was a sleeping bag tossed over the old couch and there were cobwebs along the tall shelves, filled with pictures, decorative porcelain dinnerware, and other items. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.

“What can I say?” Jo shrugged. “It’s still home,” then, he grinned. “Besides, Ruby hasn’t gotten to this floor yet. She started on her room and spread like a cleaning tsunami across the upstairs.” Laughed the man.

“When will we get to meet this elusive daughter of yours?” FP joked, heading to the fridge like he was at home. And, he felt like he was. In their youth, Jo and FP had hung out at the old Wolfe house a number of times. He still remembered his way around, despite the years that had passed since he’d last stepped inside. FP grabbed a few beers, giving them out to his crew and Jo. The man shook his head at the offer. “Come now, Jo,” FP teased. “You work with us, you have to drink with us. Right?” His men chuckled, nodding.

“Maybe when we’re done,” Jo replied. “Let me see if Ruby’s still out. I think she went for a run with Chili. You still know your way around?” He took out his phone, nodding at FP.

“No worries, we’ll get started on the crap in the attic, if it’s still there?” FP could still remember the old tradition of the Wolfe family. If something broke, they wouldn’t fix it or toss it. Instead, great-grandfather Wolfe would demand that they kept it, just in case, in the attic. Hence, the space was mostly filled with broken and unusable items.

“You know it.” Jo laughed, placing the phone to his ear.

Ruby got home after an hour long run in the Fox Forest with Chili. The area was rather nice and the trail was solid, leading her deep into the woods, before looping around a small picnic area with nest swings, teeter-totters and even an old, wooden merry-go-round that you pushed with your legs. Ruby had discovered the place a few days ago, when she’d dared to switch up her usual run along the highway and headed into the woods. These days, it was her favorite afternoon jogging spot. The trees provided a nice shade and there was a small drinking fountain that you had to pump for water in the middle of the area. Chili loved it, too, as he had a chance to chase after more than enough squirrels on the way.

The teen arrived back at the Wolfe property comfortably sore from her run and a bit tired. Her hair clung to her neck with sweat, ponytail messy. She was a bit flushed and honestly looking forward to a shower. However, that would have to wait. After all, there were a dozen motorcycles parked in their driveway and she could see a number of men and boys, looking like they’d just stepped out of a biker bar, moving unusable stuff out of the old house. Most of them had their shirts off, or had stripped down to wife-beaters. There was a lot of chatter in between them, jokes being exchanged as they worked. Jo had called her and told her that the Southside Serpents had accepted the job, but Ruby hadn’t been quite prepared for this kind of a scene. She’d expected them to be a bit more intimidating. Maybe blasting hard rock from a speaker as they worked, or something?

“Ruby, right?” Asked one of the tallest men in the yard as he placed down his end of an old bed with broken legs. “Your father’s somewhere in the attic, directing traffic.” He told her, wiping his forehead and tossing his long hair back with a motion of his head. Chili wandered over, sniffing the man, before continuing to inspect their guests one by one.

“Thanks,” Ruby replied with a small smile. “Thanks for helping out, too. We really appreciate it.” The man grinned at that.

“We appreciate the work, too,” he nodded. Ruby headed inside, waiting in the doorway for two men to take out an old sofa chair, half eaten by moths, before jogging up the stairs. When she reached the second set, however, she was faced with a huge armoire and a colorful curse word.

“Fangs!” A deep voice shouted out from the other side of the armoire, only black hair visible over the top of it. “I swear if you don’t come back I’m pushing this thing down the stairs,” Ruby wondered for a second if she should help, say anything or go look for this Fangs person. Though, she’d hesitated a second too long. “Alright, man, this one’s on you.” And the armoire moved towards her like an ominous wooden wall.

“Holy crap!” Ruby squeaked out, quickly jumping up the ten steps to the furniture piece in order to help steer it down the stairs safely. The armoire was made out of heavy wood, though, which instantly made her arms ache and knees buckle as she tried to brace it the best she could. “Woah, woah!” Ruby yelled and the armoire stopped pushing her down the stairs in an instant.

“Toni?” Asked the same gruff voice from above.

“Ruby,” the girl poked her head to the left, her arms still hugging the heavy piece of furniture, terrified that it would bulldoze its way over her if she let up. “Hi,” she greeted through the narrow space in between the armoire and the wall. Then, a head appeared on the other end, peering at her curiously. The teen was around her age, and fairly handsome in his own, bad boy bike gang member, kind of way. She could see his large hand holding the side of the armoire and her eyes followed it to his strong biceps, before refocusing on his face. Now, it had a frown on it.

“Who’re you?” He asked rudely, making Ruby return the expression.

“Ruby Wolfe,” she shot back in a similar tone, making him startle, eyebrow raising. “Free citizen and resident of this house. Definitely not Toni or Fangs.” At that, the boy laughed in a deep sound which made her stomach do a flip. He was hot. And, unfortunately for her, Ruby had inherited her father’s suave ways around attractive people, coupled with her mother’s sass. She knew that smartass word vomit would be coming from her mouth without her say so. “Now, I’m tiny, and extremely aware of that fact. But, I’ll try and help get this monstrosity down the stairs.” The boy’s face contorted before he burst into another bout of laughter.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Let’s switch, I’ll brace it better.” The boy shifted the armoire once, and then another time, making it stand in an awkward position on the stairs, the narrow space on the side a bit wider.

“Okay, we’ve got this.” Ruby agreed, slowly letting go of the heavy piece. It was standing still. She slipped into the crack on the left, going up the stairs sideways. Halfway up she was met with resistance, though. The boy had apparently had the same idea, making them a bit stuck in the narrow space. Ruby looked up, and not just because he was a step above her. The teen was a fricking giant, towering with at least two heads over her. But, damn, was he a sight for sore eyes. Stripped into a grey wife-beater and dark jeans, his red and black plaid shirt tied around his waist and hair slightly damp from the workout. His dark eyes were curiously looking her over. “I’ll just,” Ruby began, motioning with her hands before trying to squeeze past his front. “Yeah, like that,” she didn’t pay much attention to how that could’ve sounded to an unsuspecting passerby as her chest pressed against the boy’s toned stomach while she attempted to squeeze by him. “Sorry,” his hands went up, bracing against the armoire and making it shift and sway, sliding off a step with a loud sound.

“Shit.” He grabbed onto it, pushing his weight forward and trapping the armoire against the wall and Ruby against it, his toned body like an iron fence.

“Crap, sorry,” Ruby looked up, her hands flailing at her sides. They were in an awkward, hug-like position, pressed against one another, locking eyes. “Since we’re going to be cozy for a while, I’m Ruby.” His eyebrow rose in a perfect motion that made her mouth water.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” his voice was a low grumble, almost a whisper. “I’m Sweet Pea.” At that, she lost it, dissolving in a fit of giggles.

“Seriously?” She asked, trying to gather herself, but she was still shaking with laughter. The armoire shifted again, making Sweet Pea curse once more, pressing even further into her. “Sorry. Do they call you Sweets or Pea?” She couldn’t stop her mouth.

“They call me Sweet Pea.” He told her with finality in his voice.

“They call me awesome.” Ruby shot right back, their eyes locking for a second, before both started laughing. The armoire shifted ominously again.

“Damnit.” Sweet Pea pushed his forearm against the length of the top part, managing to brace the wooden piece before it could fly down the stairs. “Fangs!” He yelled out over Ruby’s head. They waited for a few more tense seconds, still pressed against each other. Ruby shifted a bit, causing Sweet Pea to gasp and move his hips back. But, it had been too late. She’d noticed his issue. Her eyes met his and her lip quirked up.

“I’m flattered.” She cheekily told him.

“It’s a natural reaction, ankle biter.” Sweet Pea shot back with a straight face, but she could still see his cheeks redden due to their close proximity.

“Hah,” the girl huffed. “I’m anything but!”

“Alright, short stack, no need to get defensive.”

“Oh, shut up you sasquatch!” Ruby tilted her head back, yelling. “Fangs!” Sweet Pea lost his cool again, dissolving into laughter.

“It’s not nice to call out another guy’s name when we’re so cozy, tater tot.” He pressed himself forward again, hips meeting her stomach and showing her that he was very much enjoying the moment. Ruby couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth.

“Would you stop with the crappy nicknames, cheese king?” She hissed. “Fangs!” She yelled out again, but there was no reply. Sweet Pea was shaking with laughter, making Ruby finally snap. “You know what? We’ve got this.” She told him. And, before he could stop her, Ruby wriggled to her right, slipping from under him and hurrying up the stairs once she was free of his hard body. The armoire shifted as she practically gave it a hug from above, moving it away from the wall and settling it down from its titled position, Sweet Pea steering from the side.

“We good?” He asked, waiting for a second while gripping the top of the wooden piece as hard as he could.

“I am if you are.” Ruby answered from the top. Then, Sweet Pea slowly let go of the top and hurried down the stairs, careful not to touch the huge piece. When he got to the bottom and grasped it, he braced it with a knee.

“Alright, let’s do this, shortcake.” The push she gave from the top of the stairs almost knocked him over.

Sweet Pea and Ruby managed to get the armoire not only down the remaining stairs, but also through the hallway and down the next set of steps with minimal bruising on their fingers and the boy’s side. The drawers and decorated doors of the piece didn’t close well and swung wide whenever the armoire leaned to the side. The first time they realized that problem, Sweet Pea had almost dropped the wooden piece, hissing out a loud curse when a drawer ‘bit’ his fingers. However, now that the armoire was on the ground floor, Southside Serpents buzzing all around them, they had a few extra hands to help out.

The tall man who’d spoken to Ruby in the driveway had called over three more people and they managed to heft the armoire up and out the front door, right next to the ruined sofa chair. Ruby brushed her hands off, before pushing the stray hair from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Well, that was wild,” she commented with a small chuckle, making the men laugh. “I’m going to head up, if you guys have it covered here?”

“Go ahead.” The tall man dismissed her and Ruby ran back to the house, taking two steps at a time. She passed two other teenagers in the entrance hall, a girl with dyed hair and a muscular boy with a wide grin on his face. They were carrying some kind of an old antenna, completely rusted.

“Fangs!” Sweet Pea’s unforgettable tone rang out when he spotted them, too. So, that was Fangs, Ruby mused, sparing another look at the boy’s back. “Where did you go, man? You left me with that monstrosity on the stairs!” Ruby didn’t hear the reply as she was already hurrying up the stairs and soon, entering the attic.

It was like a war zone there. Men hauling things from one side to the other, checking what could be used, repaired or repurposed, before sending the useless things down the stairs. She saw her father easily enough, by the window all the way in the back, looking over every item and directing the Serpents what to do with them.

“Dad, hey,” Ruby came over, moving out of the way for an old TV to pass. “Where do you need me?”

“Hey, hun,” Jo greeted, looking up at her. “FP, Ruby,” he introduced to the man standing next to him. “Ruby, FP Jones, the most badass Serpent in here.” There were a couple of groans and muted complaints, followed by laughter, coming from the crowd around them.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” FP said, offering his hand, before pulling it back and wiping it on his slacks and then extending it again. It was still covered in dust, though. “Gosh, you’re the spitting image of your father. Except those eyes.” Ruby shook his hand, the strong grip and callouses making her feel right at home.

“Yeah, I have my mom’s eyes,” she nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry about the muck, by the way. I’m in the same boat.” She showed him the front of her, previously white, spaghetti strap shirt. It was now covered in dust from the armoire she’d battled earlier.

“Still, you’re a girl,” FP gave her a smile with a twinkle in his eye. “Gotta be courteous.” Laughter rang out from the crowd in the attic again.

“Kiddo, can you get us some food?” Jo asked, directing one of the Serpents to toss some old binders filled with rain-ruined papers.

“The boys downstairs can give you a ride to Pop’s, if you want?” FP piped up. “Just ask for Sweet Pea and tell him that I said to take you.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Ruby replied with a nod.

“Oh?” FP frowned. “He didn’t get smart with you, did he?”

“I was smart right back, no worries,” she grinned, making her father burst into laughter and FP break into a smile. “Alright, any preferences?”

“Food.” Most of the Serpents grumbled in agreement. Ruby nodded and bounded off, heading down the stairs. She didn’t even think to change her shirt before she found Sweet Pea again.

Now, I’m super curious to hear what you guys thought of this one :D Let me know!

Here is the taglist (let me know if you want to be added):  @enticinghell @projectcampbell@sweetscamille@xoxodege@mlvgren@this-is-the-way-it-ends  @yerawizardharry99  @dinglemember

Tell me how you liked it :D

If you want to check out the other chapters, they are listed on my Masterlist.

[bambmazing]

OC ask tag

Tagged by @raiswanson who inadvertently fixed the marital problems between me and Something In The Woods!! 

Gonna give Mia some attention since the last tag game used Maeve. But first, gonna tag the bros @jesse-is-inarguably-purple and @etheriumart.

-General-

Name: Mia Lena Gallagher

Alias(es):  Bugaboo, Lala, Mo croí, probably a dozen other sappy terms of endearment.

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Place of Birth: Grants Pass, OR(but only because that’s the nearest hospital).

Spoken languages: English, about conversational in Spanish, Sign Language, and little bits and pieces of Gaelic.

Sexual Orientation: Asexual, but equal opportunity for a romantic partner

Occupation: High school student(for about another month).

-Appearance-

Eye Color: black  Technically brown but super dark so they just look black unless its a bright sunny day or you are INTIMATELY close to her.

Hair Color: Black.

Height: 5′2″.

Scars: A few small daily-life-accident scars really but a matched couple on each palm and one faint one on her thigh.

Burns: Just a mundane little one, for now ;).

Overweight: Yeah, she’s a little pudgy. Doesn't mean she’s out of shape though. 

Underweight: Nah.

-Favorites-

Color: Blue.

Hair color: Mia is a sucker for any and all “wacky” or unnatural colors.

Eye Color: Has a major soft spot for black seeming eyes.

Music Genre: Will listen to all genres but if you rifled through her CD collection, you’d mostly find rock/metal (there’s just a lot of shouty guitar music there).

Movie Genre: No specific genre, only watches a movie once a month on average anyways.

TV Show: She couldn’t even tell you when she last turned on a TV.

Food: Baked salmon is the best home cooked meal(aside from her mama’s enchiladas and lasagna), but adores some good old fashion mozzarella sticks in any place she goes to eat out.

Drink: The every day is coca-cola, but loves shirley temples the same way she loves mozzarella sticks.

Book: Red Rising Trilogy by Pierce Brown and Raven Cycle Series by Maggie Steifvater [ ;)  I admit to plugging my faves but they do keep in line with who my girl is].

-Have They-

Passed University: Not quite there yet.

Had Sex: Nah.

Had Sex in Public: DOUBLE NAH.

Gotten Pregnant: No.

Kissed a boy: No.

Kissed a girl: Quite a few, actually.

Gotten tattoos: Not YET.

Gotten piercings: Only earlobes, but she likes the look of many other piercings and has considered getting them.

Had a broken heart: Nah.

Been in love: Bitch she might be.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Just barely made it past the 24 hour mark and would not advise doing it.

-Are They-

A virgin: Yes.

A cuddler: Casually and in a way that dares you to point it out for any reason.  Like a cat, but definitely enjoys it. 

A kisser: Big fan of tiny smooch kisses of all sorts. Butterfly kisses, bunny kisses, quick little pecks all over her face.

Scared easy: She gets scared like anybody else, but you have a snowballs chance in hell of physically seeing it in any way. 

Jealous easily: Not in a relationship way, because she trusts Maeve to either call it all off or fly true. Tiny useless petty things are a different matter entirely. 

Trustworthy: Where it counts. As with jealousy, small time situations are another thing. 

Dominant: It’s a mystery.

Submissive: Also a mystery, although in theory she’d like a chance to be a pillow princess.

In love: Bitch she might be.

Single: Strong negative. 

-Random Questions-

Have they harmed themselves: Got curious in middle school, but only twice. 

Thoughts Of suicide: No.

Wanted to kill someone: Had semi-hopeful imaginings for people that crossed lines.

Ridden a Horse: Once.

Have/Had a job: Managed to get a stereotype babysitting gig. Somehow.

Have any fears: No phobias or things that maker her pants-shittingly terrified. She does have some pretty average things that make her queasy and kinda shaky, like many people tend to have.  

-Family-

Sibling(s): One was going to be enough work.

Parents: A single bad ass mom named Kathleen, usually just called Kathy. 

Children: No and also never giving birth thank you very much.

Pet(s): Personally has a massive dog named Beast, and the family has three cats. The cats are all tri-color calicos by the names Patchwork Orange(generally only called Patchy Cat), Caffeine, and Fluff ‘N’ Stuff(I give you all this info on the cats because so far I haven’t managed to give them a lot of screen time but they definitely deserve the love).

[surrealitykrp-blog]

hello listeners —

today we’ve received a notice about lee jaeyoung, the 25 year old meteorologist. you might have seen him around riverside when he’s not being the meteorologist for the propaganda paper. if you haven’t, fear not and stay tuned for the briefing.

                                         and as always, welcome to iri

—  and now, the profile

faceclaim: park hyunsik oc name: lee jaeyoung age: 25 positive traits: imaginative, independent, intelligent neutral traits: placid, quiet, sarcastic negative traits: disconcerting, inconsiderate, passive occupation: meteorologist housing: riverside affiliation: meteorologist for the propaganda paper

— and now, the development

THE MYSTERY OF IRI:

looking up from the map he had in his hands, he looked around and sighed. it seemed that his house had moved again. his eyes shifted back to the map, which was filled with pencil doodles which was supposed to pinpoint where his residence had moved to again. not at all in a panic, he slowly walked up into an alleyway, putting the map in a bag made of the burlap from the museum(it had to be admitted he was an avid fan of the museum and often collected the bags and notebooks from the museum). sometimes he saw people being in a haste–most likely to get in time for their work or at least be able to get on work. certainly not him. leisurely walking through the displaced streets, he did have a kindling of hope he would arrive at work.

of course, as a normal human he’d get tired from walking around. looking at the crossing between the riverside and downtown, which usually was never there, he simply looked around, debating which way he should be going.

in the end he didn’t choose a path, instead he put back the map and took out his phone, called his work place and simply said, ”i won’t be coming in today.” and ended the call before the called one even could reply. turning around, to walk to his house and he realized he was probably not going to find his home back. he looked down at his phone he still had in his hand, putting it in his bag and once again took out his map. jaeyoung walked to a corner of the crossroad and laid the map there, and sat on it, with his back against the wall. closing his eyes, he decided to take a nap because, well, there was no point to aggravate about it(not that he truly was aggravated about anything) and sunk into a light sleep.

THE DUALITY OF MANKIND:

Placid, he often doesn’t show his emotions physically. he’s highly calm especially in the face of problems and danger, making it able for him to make swift decisions in the moment logically. but at the same time he is also a party killer. adding to that, it is often creepy at times that he is calm when most people are generally in a panic or curious. positively seen, he is able to stay calm in fights for example, calculating and analyzing what he should be doing. he is often the one who stops verbal fights between people he knows. another thing to add is that he does not crumble easily in the face of stress or intimidation. he doesn’t get nervous either and mainly stays himself.

honestly, he can come over as rather uninterested when conversing with him, even though he is usually is curious. he simply isn’t good at expressing his emotions or even feeling it sometimes. people sometimes don’t approach him as his placid nature might give out vibes of being distant and unsociable, which he honestly isn’t. adding to that, his placid nature may have been the cause of him being rather friendless throughout his life as he never exactly exerted his feelings or emotions.

— and now, the biography

born on a day with a rainy weather jaeyoung was the youngest son into a family of four. it wasn’t a rich family, but it wasn’t exactly poor either. well, it was simply an average family, with both parents working on average office jobs, and a rather average attitude. but their pastime wasn’t all that average. in her free time, mother prayed to the invisible eye in sky–when she was the only one who could see it. and father loved to listen to fm66.6 and simply do nothing at all. all in all they weren’t very present for jaeyoung and his thirteen year older sister.

it was not his parents who took care of him, but his sister. she wasn’t the best parent in the world but she was dear to jaeyoung. she loved the sky and the stars, however jaeyoung was more interested in the ground. well, he was just a child and he was more interested in drawing with crayon, and playing with other children. not exactly playing with them, in fact, he preferred to observe them from a distance. he only truly got interested in the sky, when he saw the strange lights at night. the boy was allowed to stay up late for once. his sister showed the lights and the boy was simply interested, curious, awed at the colored beams.

jaeyoung was fourteen when he realized he could study the weather and the sky. 

middle school was rather uneventful to him. he wasn’t the most social person, but not the most introvert one either. didn’t mean he had friends. certainly he had acquaintances and almost-to-be-friends relations with his classmates, but it wasn’t exactly to be praised. it was more often that people were annoyed with his quiet, passive nature with here and there a sharp remark (that, in their eyes, was unnecessary). however, teachers did like his studious nature and will to learn. he always finished homework–and did some extra often. 

but how did the discovery of the occupation came to be? one of his classmates had a mother in the meteorology and she came to the school for an hour–explaining her job. the contents appealed so much to jaeyoung that he asked so many questions that the teacher had to stop him. 

his class was so surprised at him being so talkative and interested, as he normally wasn’t. but hey, what did it matter? jaeyoung found his dream.

finishing high school, he was accepted into college in the study of meteorology. he learned of pressure, the physics of the weather, the reactions of the atmosphere. however as it of course was iri, the peculiarities of the weather there were also added in the teachings. 

now twenty-five, he found his next job rather soon in the propaganda paper, of which he is enjoying finding out the unpredictable nature of the weather in iri city.