#what's the point of a cellphone you leave at home. that's just a landline that can play candy crush

[gender-euphowrya]

thing about my grandma is if i don't answer her calls like .4 seconds after my phone starts ringing she goes ''what if i was DYING and you DIDN'T ANSWER :(" but then the same grandma doesn't take her cellphone with her when she goes out

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

[nj-ayuk1]

NJ Ayuk Shares Plan To Provide Electricity to 600 Million More Africans

As developed nations struggle to create more incentives to move toward sustainable energy sources, the policies created can leave less developed nations in rough shape. But NJ Ayuk, an Amazon bestselling author, chairman of the African Energy Chamber, and founder of Centurion Law Group, has a plan to change that. 

More than 600 million Africans currently live without electricity. Many more live at the mercy of unreliable grids that regularly falter and leave them in the dark for hours or days at a time. 

However, these cases of severe energy poverty can be ameliorated, NJ Ayuk argues. But doing so will require a renewed investment in fossil fuels. 

Flexibility in Fossil Fuel Use Can Help Address Energy Poverty

In his most recent book, A Just Transition: Making Energy Poverty History With an Energy Mix, NJ Ayuk goes into detail about how to eradicate the lack of access to electricity that pervades much of the African continent. 

The plan centers on helping African nations catch up to the prosperity Western countries have reaped since industrialization by advocating for a different kind of investment in the future of energy. While NJ Ayuk supports environmentalist efforts to wean nations off fossil fuels and onto sustainable forms of energy, he argues these policies should not apply equally across all countries. 

Too often, he states, global solutions that champion green energy policies overlook the harm they cause to the world’s less-developed countries. This is especially acute in Africa, where energy poverty means 900 million people lack access to clean cooking technologies while vast reserves of oil and natural gas sit unused. 

“Africa creates only 3% of carbon emissions despite being home to nearly 17% of the world’s population,” he said. “Africa must be allowed in industrialize.”

As a native of Cameroon who attended college and law school in the United States, NJ Ayuk saw early in life what kind of quality-of-life differences access to electricity makes. 

But beyond the obvious aid that access to energy would provide for millions of Africans, the act of developing a new energy sector would also improve the economies of many states, he said. 

“I come from fossil fuels, and I'm not ashamed of fossil fuels. I'm really proud of fossil fuels because I think they have driven human civilization. They have really created something that has brought on amazing achievements, and we have to embrace what they can do for Africa. At the same time, we can look at the future and start finding new solutions to replace them,” he said. “But fossil fuels present an amazing opportunity for young people in Africa to find jobs and be on the forefront of new energy solutions as well. That goes especially for African women, who have been overlooked for so long. We have the ability to correct those injustices.” 

An Eventual Transition to Sustainable Energy

The second part of NJ Ayuk’s proposal is for Africa to move quickly from fossil fuels into sustainable forms of energy. This is what the title of A Just Transition is about. He points out that energy transitions can only happen once a source of energy exists. “You can’t transition from the dark to the dark,” he said. 

He believes African countries can build an energy sector from the ground up that will make use of fossil fuels, but also quickly transition once sustainable energy sources mature. 

Although Africa is behind much of the developed world, it won’t have to spend nearly as long on the transition from fossil fuels to green technologies, NJ Ayuk says. By building a malleable infrastructure, Africans can bolster both the short- and long-term future at once. 

He calls this concept “leapfrogging.” As an example of how Africans have already leapfrogged modern technology advances, NJ Ayuk provided an example of the transition from landlines to cellphones. In more developed nations, the transition took a long time from the development of car phones to the modern portable devices. In Africa, it happened much quicker.

“I’ve seen what Africans can do. I grew up in a house where we had no cellphones. Nobody had a cellphone. Then we leapfrogged from that into cellphones,” he said. “So I know it is possible for Africans to be able to do that. Now the big questions are: What can you do to find innovative, creative ways to create jobs to capture this moment but also look at the obstacles and the bottlenecks that are in the way? How do we move away from underestimating Africa?”

[strawwritesfic]

Thor Odinson x Pregnant!Female!Midgardian!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 1]

Summary: You never imagined that shadow of death would be quite so dark.  

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus Three -- Rape Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (rape (not written out in detail, but the first chapter goes up to the event and the rest of the chapters deal with the fallout); assault and battery; abusive relationship; stalking; pregnancy resulting from rape; victim blaming insinuations from various characters; discussion of abortion; references to depression; references to rape kits; references to law procedures; references to restraining orders, some foul language; not Infinity War compliant; not Thor Ragnarok compliant; set post-Ant-Man and the Wasp; Hope & Reader friendship; the Pyms as Reader’s second family)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Thor is not the character involved in any of the awful things warned about above. Additionally, if there is anything you’d like me to add to the tag list, please let me know!

Pairings: Thor/Female!Reader; Scott/Hope; Hank/Janet; past!Male!OC/Reader

Master List

Chapter 1: How it Happened

It came as no to surprise to you to hear the landline in your little home ringing the moment you set foot inside. Like clockwork, that phone rang at the exact same time every day. Bright afternoon sunlight flooded your entryway through the windows in the nearby kitchen. The glare should have blinded you so that you could not find the right hook for the jacket you’d put on to combat that morning’s brief chill. You found it on the first try—also like clockwork, as were your swift steps into that kitchen to pick up the phone before the caller got your answering machine.

“Hey, baby,” you said warmly into the receiver. No need to check who it was first; only one person ever called you at this time of day.

“[Name].” True to form, Thor’s strong, comforting voice greeted you just like it always did. “I have missed you.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You had to clear your throat to rid your stomach of the butterflies Thor’s words shot into it. After nearly two years of dating, he could still make you feel like a kid with her first crush, and he often did. First he’d gone out of his way to learn how to use a cellphone just so he could call you regularly whenever he had to be in Manhattan, then he went and said things like that. Alone in your sunlit kitchen, you did your best not to allow yourself to blush.

“I miss you, too. How are things up there? Any imminent catastrophes I should be aware of?” of you asked.

He laughed. “No, not unless you count Banner’s continued attempts to become one with the Hulk a catastrophe.”

“I’m sure Tony does.”

“He does not seem to understand the point in such an exercise. At any rate, there is nothing much to do except when the Hulk gets tired of the prodding, which is not so often anymore. It leaves me with nothing to do but think about how much I’d rather be with you. How was work?”

You made a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat.

“That bad?” Thor inquired.

“It’s not bad.” Brows furrowed in an expression you knew he couldn’t see, you absently twisted the phone cord around your fingers. “Just boring. I’m grateful Hope got me the job after Pym Industries imploded. I just wish I was doing something more meaningful, I guess.”

“I understand completely. Our work here in meaningful. You know that Tony has told me that he would be more than happy to find you a job with Pepper’s company. All you need do is ask.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Sure. That wouldn’t piss Hank off enough to start a useless fight with Tony and the rest of you.”

“It would be nice to have you closer.”

“I agree. Hank told me he’d rather see me dead than working for a Stark, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I am certain that Dr. Pym would never say something quite so dramatic.”

“You don’t know Hank like I do,” you said. “He can be pretty damn dramatic when it comes to Starks. I don’t know what I’d do for Pepper that I can’t already do here anyway. My whole life is here, except for you.”

“I shall take your word for it. But should you ever change your mind?”

“You’ll be the first to know. Probably be smart if I didn’t tell Hope or Hank until I got there. Anyway, what are you guys all up to tonight?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.

“Nothing exciting, I assure you. I believe that Bucky is going to make us all dinner.”

“Bucky can cook?”

“No. He cannot.” There was a smile in Thor’s voice. “But I was told that he could at one time, and none of us wishes to discourage his attempts to relearn it. If his food is as bad as last time, we will sneak out for shawarma once he and Steve have retired for the night. How about you? Any big plans for the weekend?”

You wondered if he could hear the pregnancy in your pause before you answered, “Kevin’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Kevin,” Thor echoed.

For some reason, your pulse seemed to have moved into your ears. It thudded there so loudly that you thought you might miss Thor’s response. You realized that what you were doing was unusual. You realized not mentioning this to your boyfriend earlier looked pretty bad on paper. The whole thing was pretty last minute, though, and if he told you he didn’t approve, you’d probably just drop the whole thing. Seeing Kevin again was not worth a fight with Thor.

“Remind me,” he said after a minute or so. “Who is Kevin?”

“Kevin and I used to date, before I met you. We’re not having a date or anything tonight. It’s nothing romantic,” you added quickly. “He called this morning because he’s in town on a business trip, and we thought it might be nice to catch up. We were best friends before we got together. I haven’t seen him for…”

“For nearly two years, yes. Yes, I remember Kevin now.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So can I have him over for dinner?”

The question sounded stupid and childish, of that you were well aware. Thor did not point that out. Instead, his tone was quite gentle when he said, “[Name], I trust you completely. If you wish to have a previous beau over and remember the old times, I have no desire to prevent you from doing so. Lifelong friends are a gift. Please enjoy yourself tonight. Certainly this Kevin will be having a better meal than what I have to look forward to.”

“You don’t even know what I’m making.”

“The what does not matter. Will you call me again before you go to bed? So that I can bid you goodnight?” he asked.

This, too, was like clockwork. You smiled. “Of course I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Farewell for now.”

“Bye, Thor.”

You knew his end of the line wouldn’t go dead until you hung up. Thor was the kind of boyfriend you could spend hours soppily going back and forth over who had to do the deed first—and you were both grown adults. Sadly, sometimes grown adults had things to do, so you did not linger that evening. He probably didn’t expect you to. A faint click announced that you’d successfully placed the phone back on its dock, then you turned to face the rest of the kitchen.

No time for a deep clean. Kevin had said he would be by about seven o'clock, which left you with just under two hours to throw together a decent meal and take a shower. Luckily you didn’t think your home was too much of a mess. Actually, it tended to stay cleaner when Thor wasn’t around. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about trying to eat with Mjølnir sitting on the table and no one around to lift it.

That left you with only one thing to worry about: what to cook for an ex-boyfriend on such short notice. You’d been far too busy at work to go grocery shopping the past week, so the meal wasn’t going to be anything extravagant, whatever Thor thought to the contrary.

Why were you so worried? This was Kevin, your best friend from grade school on. You’d almost married the guy. He wasn’t the type to stick his nose up at any meal. Two years couldn’t change that.

Some of the tension in your chest evaporated as you set to throwing something together. Thor knew who you were seeing that night and didn’t care; Kevin had called you out of the blue wanting to get together; you had a job after your last one had come a sudden forcible end. Things were good. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

An hour and a half later, the smell of the garlic bread fresh out of the oven wafted through the house, stamping out even the closer scents of your shampoo and hairspray. Everything sat ready on the table. You had changed into something more comfortable than the business casual garb required by your employer. Just as you completed the finishing touches on your reapplied makeup, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat as you hastily straightened away from the mirror.

“Coming!” you shouted before you could think.

A quick look in the mirror indicated you hadn’t started sweating too badly yet, but you could tell that was about to come. Your heart beat so rapidly that it felt like one continual squeeze inside your chest. Did you look okay? Did you smell okay? Did the house look like one you ought to own?

Ding-dong. The ring came again.

“C-coming!”

No more time to waste on useless thoughts. He was here. After slipping on the shoes waiting for you by the entrance to the bathroom, you hurried down the hall until you made it to the front door. You reached for the knob, hesitated, closed your eyes, then finally forced yourself to open the door.

Outside it was already dark, but in the porch light stood a familiar man with long, dark hair that flopped halfway across his forehead.

“Kevin!” you said.

“Hey, [Name].”

Just like that, his familiar smile made all your anxiety evaporate. You stepped outside and embraced him. Had he always been this tall? Wrapping your arms around his shoulders required you to stand on your tippy-toes and Kevin to duck. He smelled the same as always, of the same aftershave you’d first given him as an anniversary present. The moment you noticed this, you stepped away.

Kevin’s bright blue eyes moved up and down your body. “You look great.”

“You do, too. I like the suit. Is that for work?”

“They do ask me to dress nice. Kind of thought it would be hassle to go back to my hotel and change.”

“No, I get it. Oh!” You felt heat pool in your cheeks. “Please, come inside.”

“Thank you.”

He followed you into the entry way and allowed you to take his suit jacket. The scrutinizing look he seemed to throw at everything inside did nothing to fade the warmth from your face. You couldn’t throw his jacket on a hook quickly enough.

“So, I wasn’t really sure what we ought to have for dinner. I hope you still like spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I’d kill for your spaghetti and meatballs. Hey, is that other guy around?”

Other guy? You stared blankly at Kevin for a few seconds. His lips quirked up into a smile.

“Your new boyfriend,” he clarified.

“Oh, Thor?” Who didn’t know Thor’s name? But Kevin just nodded lazily, so he must not have thought you were dating someone else.

“Yeah. That’s the guy. The big hero.”

“Thor’s out of town this weekend. Like I told you this morning, he trades off weeks with some of the other Avengers.”

Kevin nodded vaguely, already eyeing the kitchen you’d led him to. “You made garlic bread, too?” he asked, delighted, as he caught sight of the set dinner table.

“And a salad, even though I know you probably aren’t going to touch that.”

“Hey, now, that’s unfair.” He nudged you with an elbow as he put on an exaggerated pout. “I’ve lost a bit weight. Didn’t you notice?”

Actually, you had. Hugging him had been altogether different experience that night than it ever had before. Losing a little bit of weight was an understatement. You had once really enjoyed hugging Kevin; he’d been soft and warm. He had muscles now, though, and had become all hard angles. They remained somewhat hidden beneath the white button-up he wore, but you could definitely see the suggestion of them better than before.

“You do look…really healthy, Kev. Are you working out?”

He ducked his head in a bashful show. His eyes, however, remained on you, and his smirk remained apparent. “Yeah. Well, after your longtime girlfriend breaks up with you because she met some foreign bodybuilder, you start thinking you ought to make a few lifestyle changes. You like it?”

“Uh…yeah! You look good. I hope,” you added, “that you haven’t turned into one of those gym guys who never drinks. Thor’s more of a beer guy, and it’s been ages since I had an excuse to open a bottle of wine.”

"I would be more than happy to share some with you in place of him.”

What was it about the flash of his straight white teeth that made something zing up your spine? To cover for your sudden shiver, you motioned for Kevin to take a seat at the table, which he did.

This bought you some time to slip into the nearby pantry. You stood in the dark there, trying to exhale all your misplaced anxiety. Thor flirting with you gave you butterflies; Kevin doing the same gave you wasps. And what did he mean about you breaking up with him for Thor? That wasn’t how you remembered it happening. Yes, you’d met Thor just a little bit before you broke up with Kevin, but that had only been a coincidence. Hadn’t it?

“Need some help in here?”

A little shriek burst from your throat as you spun on the spot.

Kevin had got up from the table while you’d been lost in your thoughts. He stood now in the open doorway to the pantry. It was then that you realized just how large he really was. Growing up, he’d always been the taller and the broader of the two of you, but his fitness regime having melted away all his fat somehow made him seem bigger than ever. His body blocked out most of the light coming in from the kitchen, turning him into a gigantic black monolith sitting directly in your path.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You food’s gonna get cold.”

“Right!” you squeaked, and hastily snatched up the first wine bottle your eyes fell upon.

Back out in the kitchen, you found that you could breathe a little better. Kevin took the bottle, uncorked it with the tool waiting on the counter, and walked back over to the table. You remained standing while you waited for your heartbeat to slow.

Why were you so scared? This was Kevin. You’d known him since both of you were babies. This was the man that had spent hours with you playing World of Warcraft when you were in middle and high school; the man that had taken you to your senior prom; the man you’d thought only a few short years ago that you were going to marry. He wasn’t flirting with you. He was just being nice. What was there to be afraid of?

He looked up at you from his seat with a question in his eyes. You took a deep breath. That was it. No more acting like you barely knew this guy. Rearranging your face into the most natural smile you could muster, you followed him over to the table to pour the waiting white wine into a couple of glasses. Then you finally took a seat.

Kevin rubbed his hands together and reached for his wine. “This all looks amazing, as usual. Thanks for putting it together on such short notice. I’m really glad we were able to get together like this.”

“Me, too. I’m so glad you called to let me know you were in town. To old friends?” you asked, tipping your wine glass toward his.

Something flickered in his expression—or you thought it did. Possibly you imagined the crinkling of his brow, because the next second, he clinked your glasses together and beamed.

“To old friends,” he echoed.

Talking with him after that became almost as simple as it had been when you were kids. Maybe it was the wine. One hour passed, then two, then three, and you found yourself getting another bottle somewhere in the middle of that, though you yourself had only had two glasses.

But you weren’t worried. Kevin was his old jokey self. He even started up that familiar debate between the two of you over whose main in World of Warcraft could beat the other’s. Even though you didn’t have nearly as much time to play as you once had, it was a conversation that always managed to lighten you up. You quite forgot he’d ever made you nervous by the time you both were scraping the last dregs of chocolate cake off your plates.

“So, where are you working now?” Kevin asked after a brief bout of comfortable silence. “Not Pym Industries, right? My GPS doesn’t even register that as a place anymore.”

“No, it kind of fell off the map. I’ve got a job doing about the same thing at a local company now. It’s smaller, but at least it’s still here.”

“You mean you don’t want to move to New York?”

“Why would I want to move to New York?” you asked, confused.

“Well, that’s where your boyfriend works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but Thor’s not the only important part of my life. I like it here, and it’s easier for him to commute than it is for me. All my friends live here, too. I’d hate to leave Hope and Hank behind.”

Kevin smiled wryly. “Still in contact with the Pyms, huh?”

“Of course I am. Hope’s my best friend.”

“Hm.”

“Something wrong with that?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I guess it’s just that I’m a little surprised you can care about people like that for so long. You were so eager to leave me behind.”

All the warmth seemed to get sucked out of the room. Goosebumps rose across your skin. “That’s not fair.”

A wave of the hand was clearly meant to clear the air. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I just meant—well, can you blame a guy for being jealous? After all these years, you’re still attached at the hip to Hope and her nutcase father—”

“Hank is not crazy!”

“Fine, fine.” He knew. He knew you didn’t like it when he said things like that, and he lifted both his hands, palms forward, as though to calm you. Needless to say, this did not work, especially as he went on to say, “But listen, [Name], why did you break up with me? Just give me one good reason.”

“We’ve been over this, Kev.”

“Not in a long time. Maybe you changed your mind. Please. It keeps me up at night.”

As though how Kevin spent his nights mattered to you anymore. You didn’t want to have this argument with your ex-boyfriend again. All the times you’d had it in the weeks directly following your breakup should have been enough to get things through his head. Instead of giving him any answer, you stood from your seat and began to gather dishes into your arms.

“It’s been great seeing you,” you said without looking at him, “but it’s getting late and I have somewhere to be tomorrow morning.”

Kevin didn’t move, not even as you headed for the sink with the dirty plates. “Hope won’t care if you’re a little tired over coffee. Come on. Did you break up with me because I was out of shape? ‘Cause I changed all that.”

“No, Kevin.”

“Then why? Was it the accent? Was it that he was on TV? What?”

You dropped your things onto the counter with a little more force than necessary. “For the last time, I didn’t ditch you so I could hook up with Thor! We hardly knew each other at the time!”

“Sure. If that’s true, why can’t you give me a straight answer now?”

“Because I don’t owe you a straight answer. I don’t owe you anything. You know what? I think it’s time for you to leave.”

In the silence that followed your proclamation, you struggled to pull yourself together. The window that hung in front of your face was nothing but a pitch black square. You couldn’t even see the little patio out there to distract yourself with worrying over your plants.

God, you felt so stupid. You’d really thought Kevin had called you that morning because he wanted to be friends—friends like you had been before he asked you out in the tenth grade, friends like you’d felt you were again over dinner. Truth be told, you’d missed him a lot over the past couple of years, but you hadn’t missed his wheedling or his arguing or his whining.

Whether or not you could remain clam didn’t matter. You opened your mouth and tried to turn around so that you could see him out the door. The chance to do either never arose. A pair of arms slid around your waist, locking you into place there in front of your sink.

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Kevin’s lips tickled the side of your neck where they rested.

You swiftly spun to face him. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure this night ends right.”

Whip-quick, his face moved forward. His mouth met yours in a fierce kiss. Trapped between Kevin and the sink, you couldn’t move backwards to get away—but you could move your arms to shove him. He was too dense now to move much. Luckily, he was startled enough by your action to stop what he was doing.

“[Name]…” he said softly.

“Kevin,” your heartbeat made your voice flutter, “you’re drunk.”

“Maybe you’re not drunk enough, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe. And get out of my house. Now.”

His next words made your blood run cold: “Or what?”

That was a very good question. You could hardly move Kevin, and the phone was all the way across the room. Surely you could think of something if you had the time. He didn’t give you any. His hands were around you again the very next second, tugging on your clothes, fondling your chest, tangling in your hair.

“Don’t pretend this isn’t what you want.” His breath stunk of wine. Only then did it occur to you that the reason you had to go back for a second bottle was because he had drank so much. You knew your limits—but still you worried that you might have gone a little over them all the same.

“Kevin, please,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to beg. You already told me what you wanted without having to say a word. I mean, you went to all that trouble to make sure that boyfriend of yours wasn’t here for my visit—”

“He’s at work!”

“And then you got all dressed up. You even cooked all this for me! Hey.” His moist palm against your cheek made you shudder. “It’ll just be a one night stand. He’ll never find out what we did tonight.”

Even in his present inebriated state, Kevin’s fingers were deft. Some piece of your clothing was going to be off soon. Your mind was half-frozen with fear. Fortunately, half-frozen was not all frozen. Some vaguely recalled self-defense lesson with Hope returned to you just long enough for you to lift a leg and level a kick right at his shin.

“Ow!” he snapped.

Unfortunately, this didn’t force him to release you. You tried to dart to one side so you could make a run for the door, but already he had placed his arms there again. Instinctively, you raised a knee to try attacking something a little higher up. Kevin was ready for that. Before you could get there, he struck you full across the face. Something in his eyes hardened. He looked suddenly alien to you.

“You don’t get to push me around anymore,” he snarled.

Shock flooded your system. All you could think was that he’d hit you. Kevin had hit you. No one had ever hit you before—not your parents, not Thor, and certainly not the boy you’d gone to school dances with as friends for years before he got the courage to ask you on a date!

Thinking straight became a struggle. Your eyes darted around for any chance of escape. While you were distracted, he managed to pull your top off over your head.

“Maybe I just need to remind you of the good times.” His hands groped ever-lower. “Like I said, that boyfriend of yours will never find out.”

You screamed. At least, you thought you screamed. Over and over something came out of your mouth. But if you did make any sound, there was no one around to hear. There was no one to stop Kevin from doing exactly what he wanted. Not even you.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 3 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2034

Now, while you were technically in a life or death situation with four vampires, you couldn't lie to yourself and say that you hadn't wanted to explore Santa Carla at least once in your life. Not Santa Cruz. Santa Carla. Time had changed the boardwalk, the styles, the people. But, now, you were right in it. The actual 1980's Santa Carla. You climbed off of Dwayne's bike, and you couldn't hide your awe as you looked down the length of the coast.

The boardwalk was littered with teenagers with wild hair, piercings, and people of all sorts. There were games, rides, and bonfires already lighting up the beach. And not a cellphone in sight. It was weird, and suddenly the piece of technology felt heavy in your pocket. You had almost forgotten that you had it, and your hand went to smooth over the rectangle in your back pocket. Suddenly, all didn't seem lost. Though, you quickly reminded yourself that this was the eighties. No wifi. No data. Hell, you'd be lucky if you still had battery. The only thing you'd have access to were the pictures and downloads you had saved on your phone. Then, it hit you. Your contact list. While you couldn't call them through your smart phone, you assumed, maybe you could call your friends if you managed to find a phone-booth or something...Or, god, a landline. Even if it was only a semblance of a plan, it felt better than nothing. Now, you just had to figure out a way to ditch the four of them so you could get your hands on a phone and avoid becoming their next meal. 

"I'm guessing you haven't lived here long." David said, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. You looked over, and watched as he walked past you. The other three followed, with Marko grabbing one of your hands and pulling you to follow them. You supposed you hadn't been keeping your amazement subtle, and you already knew that he, and perhaps Marko, were the most observant of the four boys. Your voice was small as you supplied a simple,

"Yeah, just got here." You made a mental edit of your plan. You had to find a phone and ditch them before they found out you weren't exactly from here in more ways than one. You had a feeling that lying to him would be futile, and it was technically true. You really had just got there. He hummed, and then looked back at you. It was apparently Markos turn to pull you close, though the boy was closer to your height and chose to wrap an arm around your waist instead. He sent you a friendly smile, and you repeatedly reminded yourself over and over again that these four were not to be trusted. Horror movie. Killers. David sent you a smile, and, while it was as charming as his voice, it did nothing to calm your nerves.

"Explains your friends. Not everyone in Santa Carla is as nice as we are." David said, and you nearly wanted to laugh. Yeah, you were sure they were the nicest gang of killer vampires in the whole town. Maybe even the whole state. Instead, you hummed and said,

"Yeah, thanks for the ride. You guys...well, I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met you." Now, that was the truth. You weren't just being sentimental with that statement. If you had been stuck here with not a familiar face in sight, in a strange town, and no way to call your friends? Well, you'd bet that you'd currently be having a panic attack in front of the movie theater. Not that you weren't just a few wrong moves away from having one right now. Paul practically jumped right next to you, squishing himself into your side and chirping a quick,

"You're welcome," before he added, "Y'know, your friends are kinda lame. Why don't you just hang out with us tonight?" He offered. Really, you swore that if you didn't know that these boys were vampires that you'd think they really might be some of the nicer people in Santa Carla. It wasn't like they knew you. But here they were, giving you rides, taking you to meet your friends, offering to hang out with you- Crap. You did a mental head shake. You had always made fun of Michael for falling so easily under their spell but here you were. You knew that they could be dangerous and, still, you were starting to think that you could trust them. You looked around for a moment, seeing four expectant set of eyes on you. Marko even tried to win you over by saying,

"C'mon, we're loads more fun." And, David, the charming bastard he was, gave you the most expectant look of all. 

"Yeah, c'mon, y/n." The way he said your name, it reminded you of exactly the way he'd said Michael's. You could practically guess what was going to come out of his mouth next. "How far are you willing to go?" It didn't seem nearly as menacing as it had when he'd said it to Michael, but it effected you all the same. He'd used a similar tone. Gauging. Taunting. Like he was playing a game of chicken and seeing if he could egg you on. You instinctively looked away from his face, and to the most neutral of the four vampires. But the look Dwayne was giving you didn't help, and you watched as he looked over your face. Just his stare could make you on edge. You said the best excuse you could think of, but even it sounded terrible to your own ears.

"I really shouldn't...they're expecting me." You said, and you internally cringed. It was a lie, and, like you expected, you watched as David seemed to be able to immediately tell. Or perhaps he was frowning from your refusal. Apparently, you weren't willing to go very far. You couldn't really tell, but the blondes besides you seemed hardly convinced. Though, you couldn't get the way David frowned out of your mind. Sure, Michael had been stupid to follow the boys and let himself get egged on, but he had lived. They had kept him around. That was what lead you to adding, "But- but, maybe... we could check out some stuff on the way?"

You hadn't known what to expect, but bouncing from store to store definitely wasn't it. They took you to a music store, which was filled to the brim with old, technically new, cassettes and vinyl. You managed to surprise them a little bit with your taste in music, as the twenty-first century had made it far too easy to listen to stuff from decades before. You were even tempted to buy some stuff, as you were sure you wouldn't find them for nearly as cheap back home. But, you had to be careful not to slip up when they asked you about your favorite bands. You still didn't technically know what year it was, so you stuck to bands from the seventies just to be safe. Paul ended up showing you a few records, and you tried not to blush as he dragged you into one of the listening booths. He popped a couple of records on, before putting the headphones snuggly over your ears. You tried not to be embarrassed by the close proximity, and were grateful when Marko called that they were leaving. Even if it cut into the conversation you and Paul were having about the record. Afterwards, you stopped at a little booth selling various jackets, trinkets, jewelry, and even a few patches. You looked through them with Marko, taking the time to really get a close look at his jacket. He noticed you staring, and propped his elbows up on the clear counter. He sent you a grin, and you were flustered and looking away before he could even tease you. You saw that the other three seemed to be more interested in the bracelets, and that's when you noticed the ones decorating Dwayne's wrists. You had missed it in all your previous viewings, but you weren't surprised that you had. The costume designers had done so many little details for their wardrobe, and Dwayne noticed you looking. But, instead of teasing you, he passed you a similar looking bracelet as the five of you walked down the boardwalk. You gave him a confused look, and his lips quirked up just the slightest bit.

"Doesn't fit my wrist." He explained nonchalantly, and you watched as he strode closer to the platinum blonde leading the pack. You smiled to yourself, and tried your best to tie it onto your wrist yourself. Paul ended up helping you, his nimble fingers working quickly. He didn't ask where you got the bracelet, and instead dragged you towards the arcade David had been leading you to.  

You didn't realize it until you asked one of them what time it was, making sure not to reach for your phone in your back pocket no matter how much of a habit it was, but it seemed that the boys also had a plan. You had relaxed, no matter how much you had tried not to, after spending what you realized was hours with them. It was getting late, and, when you finally made it to the carousel, none of them seem surprised when you said you didn't see your friends. Not that they'd actually be there waiting for you. But, still, the realization that they'd been stalling, making sure you would end up with no one else to hang out with that night, made you remember. Horror movie. Killers. You bet that any second David would be suggesting to take you to-

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is? Overlooking the point?" And you looked over at him. This was it. Your panic suddenly spiked at the idea of going back to the cave with them. No matter how cool it would be. No matter how much you wanted to see it for yourself. This was where everything went to shit. If you went back to the cave with them, there'd be no crowd to prevent you from getting murdered. You'd be alone. With them. Before any of them could jibe you into coming with, you quickly said,

"I should call them- my friends. Y'know, to- to make sure they're not worried about me. I don't want them telling my parents I got kidnapped or something." You quickly suggested, and the boys swayed for a moment. The three others looked between you and David, and you knew that they were waiting for his word. After a moment, he gave you a nod. You supposed that calling off any potential alarms would be something he'd be all for. And, hopefully, you could actually reach your friends.

"There's a phone booth at the end of the boardwalk. You can call your parents too. Tell them not to wait up." He said with a small grin, and it surprised you. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think David was flirting with you. The walk back to the bikes, and to the phone booth, was surreal. David had pulled you closer to the front, but he wasn't nearly as affectionate as the others. Still, just standing next to him made you feel like you were doing more than you should.

You had meant to ditch them, but, now, they were only a few feet away. Sitting on their bikes. You felt stupid for having missed it when you first arrived, but the place had been swarmed with people. And the phonebooth seemed to purposely be stuck in a small, dark corner. You gulped as you closed the glass door behind you, and you rustled around in your pockets for loose change. The only thing you had was a nickel and a couple of pennies, and you cursed yourself for not keeping more change in your purse. Not that you knew how much it would cost anyways. You looked back out at where the boys were waiting on their bikes, having noticed that the crowds had thinned out considerably compared to when you first arrived. You gulped and cracked open the door.

[iam93percentstardust]

So it occurred to me that we’re already almost into May and I’ve barely talked about this year’s holiday fic (based off of the fantastic Jack Black and Kate Winslet movie, The Holiday) so anyway, I thought it might be nice to share a snippet from the chapter in which Tony meets Steve:

Tony is asleep when the phone rings.

He jerks awake in an unfamiliar bed, hearing an unfamiliar phone ringing from the kitchen, and it takes him a moment to place where he is, long enough that he starts to say, “JARVIS, what—” before he remembers he’s in Bucky’s apartment in New York. The phone rings again and Tony scrambles out of bed. He doesn’t know who would be calling this late at night but people don’t usually call at this hour unless there’s something wrong. And since Bucky isn’t here, that leaves Tony to take care of it.

The very thought—that he’s fully planning on helping when only a few short months ago, he would have left whoever’s on the phone to their problems—has him nearly tripping over his own two feet, but fortunately, he’s already in the kitchen. Instead of falling to the ground, he ends up stumbling into the counter. He grabs the phone on the fifth ring and lifts it to his ear, hoping he doesn’t have to press any buttons because he definitely hasn’t used a landline since the first cellphone prototypes came out and he has no idea how to work this.

“Hello?” he asks. Oh fuck, he sounds horrible, all sleepy and croaky. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hello?”

“Oh thank fuck, Bucky,” an unfamiliar voice says on the other end.

“Um—”

“Look, I’m at the bar, I’m supposed to be calling the cops right now—he got into another fight, you know how it is—but I figured if you could come and pick him up, that’d be so much better. Steve really doesn’t need another arrest on his record and this guy’s been knocked out, he’s definitely gonna need stitches, but he was harassing this woman and you know Steve. Sees a situation going south and he can’t ignore it. And when that guy hit her for telling him no, Steve just about saw red. Took three of us to pull him off the guy. The guy’s friends are insisting I call the cops and have Steve arrested, but look, that dude totally deserved it. None of the friends are sticking around, they’re all going with him to the hospital, so if you come get him instead, I figure this whole thing’ll die over. How soon can you get here?”

Tony pauses just long enough to make sure that the person is done talking before he says dryly, “There’s a lot to unpack here, but let’s start with the first one: I’m not Bucky.”

“…Shit.”

“Yeah. And I don’t know who you are or where the bar is.”

“Oh yeah. I’m Clint, I’m the bartender at The Avenger. It’s two streets over from Bucky’s apartment, you can’t miss it really. Um. Look, I’m not sure why you answered Bucky’s phone and I’m not sure if I should pass Steve off to a stranger.”

“Tony,” he says, not bothering to add his last name. “Bucky and I switched homes for the month, so he’s staying at my house and I’m… here.” He looks around the clean but small apartment and bites back a comment about the size. Even he knows that that would be rude.

“You guys switched houses?” Clint asks, sounding disbelievingly. “Bucky’s actually taking a vacation? Why?”

Tony thinks about Bucky telling him about his abusive, cheating ex. A frown twists his mouth. “I’m not sure he’d like it if I told you actually.”

Clint pauses. “Holy shit, he finally dumped that asshole.”

Well clearly, they must be good friends if Clint knows Bucky enough to know just from what Tony said that Bucky and his boyfriend broke up. That makes him feel a little better about what he’s about to say at least.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to have to call the police, I’ll be down there in just a couple minutes to pick Steve up,” he offers, trying not to think about how he could potentially be inviting a violent axe murderer into his home.

“You sure? You don’t even know Steve.”

No, he doesn’t. Howard would call him a fucking idiot for doing this, point out that Tony has been kidnapped three times already. But his mama… Maria wouldn’t even hesitate. She would have already been in the car.

“Yeah,” he says firmly. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

[accioecho]

Tkem Novel 12

Chapter 15 - “The secret only I know”

Tae-Eul thought over what Nari said.

“If there are two identical worlds, then one is bound to destroy the other.”

She wished Gon would come back soon. She wished he would appear right there, right then, in her courtyard atop Maximus.

Carrying this secret alone was too much of a burden and she felt lonely.

—

Chapter 16 - “Even if the flower doesn’t bloom”

After a long day at the station, Tae-Eul was finally on her way back home. Instead of heading inside the warmth of her house though, she stopped in front of it and took the time to water the small flower pot that contained the seeds she bought in the Kingdom. Crouching down, she carefully examined the surface of the planter.

Only soil was visible underneath the soft glow of the street lights.

“Why won’t you sprout?”

Rationally, she knew it was because they came from another world. Just thinking about the fact that these flowers may never bloom left her disappointed.

Gon was still away and these flowers would probably never bloom.

Tae-Eul stared at the pot for a long while, lost in her thoughts. Finally standing up, she lightly tapped her legs with her two hands.

“How have you been?”

The voice she longed to hear all this time rang clear in the empty courtyard. Turning around, Tae-Eul saw Gon standing tall, donning a dark coat. Still struck by his sight, she simply nodded.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

Unable to tear her eyes away from him, she nodded once more.

From the Kingdom of Corea to the Republic of Korea.

Crossing universes.

Tae-Eul knew how far these two worlds were. How big the space between 1 and 0 was.

She couldn’t go to his world even if she wanted to. She couldn’t meet him even if she wanted to. The only thing she could do was to wait.

Gon who was equally glad to see her let out a small laugh. “That’s a relief. I was a bit scared that you didn’t want me to come back—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Tae-Eul reached Gon in a few strides and hugged him.

There were a few things she could do now.

She could touch him. She could embrace him.

With Tae-Eul’s head tightly pressed against his chest, Gon felt his heart skip a beat. Silently, he wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth spreading from one body to another, they relaxed into each other.

Their time spent in the Kingdom was short, and their goodbye felt even more rushed. Their current situation meant they couldn’t send each other texts like any normal couple and Tae-Eul probably worried over him. Feeling sorry for being away for so long, Gon held her a fraction tighter.

As much as he did his best to carry out his work as quickly as he could, Gon wished he could have come sooner.

—

Finally breaking their embrace, Tae-Eul led Gon to the Taekwondo center. 

She was the owner’s daughter yet Gon was the one holding the key to the training hall.

Gon had come in earlier in the day, greeted her father and borrowed the house keys. Tae-Eul didn’t know what to make of it. Did he really have to go that far?

She got the answer entering the Dojang.

At first glance, the man standing in the middle of room looked like Eun-Sup. His attire was the one detail that gave him away. This man was not Eun-Sup. It was Yeong.

Yeong faced Tae-Eul and glowered at her, posture stiff. This wasn’t the first time Yeong looked at her with disapproval but this level of animosity was new.

“You brought Jo Yeong here?” Tae-Eul frowned, turning to Gon.

“It was unavoidable. He wouldn’t let me go alone.”

There was several reasons why Gon had wanted to bring Yeong to this place, but one particularly stood out. Yeong had chased after him in the bamboo trail and blocked his path as he was about to cross the gate.

If he was leaving to go meet that girl Luna, then he couldn’t let him go, Yeong had explained.

Luna.

Gon had also learned about her existence in the Kingdom. He had spent hours and hours searching for Tae-Eul and it turned out that her doppelganger did exist in his universe. That time  when he saw a glimpse of her at the rowing competition was not a figment of his imagination after all. But her name wasn’t Tae-Eul and she wasn’t a police officer either. She was just a fugitive, chased by both the mob and police forces.

Gon couldn’t blame Yeong for being wary of Tae-Eul. His best friend had dutifully looked for her at his request. He believed that Luna and Tae-Eul were the same person, so it was only normal that he couldn’t let Gon go to her.

This was about to change.

Gon wanted to show Yeong that Luna and Tae-Eul were really two different persons. That one person belonged to the Kingdom and the other was from another universe.

Yeong still seemed frozen in place, disoriented from the journey from Corea to the Republic’s Seoul. Examining his surroundings, his confusion only grew as his eyes lingered on the various frames that adorned the walls.

There were several pictures of Tae-Eul posing with her father. Another frame of a younger Tae-Eul with Shin-Jae. Countless awards and certificates bearing her name.

To any outsider looking at these various pieces of memory, this was a real, separate person. A person that matched the police ID Yeong saw, belonging to a certain police officer named Jeong Tae-Eul.

“What… what’s going on?” Yeong asked, face slightly tilted. “What is this place?”

“I totally understand how you feel. I’m sure we both have a lot of things to worry about, but for now, welcome to the Republic of Korea.” Tae-Eul replied calmly.

So… did it mean he had to call her Sunbae here?

Yeong pulled out his phone and tried to get a signal.

Yeong’s confused state reminded Gon of Tae-Eul’s similar reaction when she first visited the Palace.

“I’ve never seen him act like that. He looks so cute when he’s flustered.” Gon chuckled.

Tae-Eul had to admit this was a new side of Yeong. She never imagined that the man who didn’t flinch at the sight of blood could look so flustered. But she wouldn’t go as far as to describe him as cute.

She guessed it made sense. Tae-Eul lips stretched into a small smile. Gon did consider Yeong as his little brother.

“Your carefree attitude is what’s cute. How can you just bring someone with the same face? What are you going to do if he gets caught?”

“That’s why I borrowed this place. Besides, Yeong isn’t the type to get caught easil—.”

The door suddenly burst open and Eun-Sup came strolling inside the Dojang. His face lit up at seeing Gon.

“The light were on so I was wondering…”

Eun-Sup shrieked, frozen at the sight of Yeong.

Yeong returned his gaze on Eun-Sup. Both staring at each other, fingers pointing towards the other.

“You two haven’t met, right? Why don’t I introduce… Well, I guess we could say you’ve met already. Anyway, this is my guard, the Unbreakable Sword, Jo Yeong. And this is the guard of a police station…” Gon explained, looking slightly perplexed.

Halfway through Gon’s quiet introductions, Eun-Sup collapsed. Tae-Eul rushed over to him, grabbing his collar and patting his cheek repeatedly.

“Hey! Jo Eun-Sup! I can’t believe it! You made him faint! What? Did you say that he wouldn’t get caught? Our Eun-Sup was also raised as a precious only child until his siblings were born. What are you going to do if something happens to him?” Tae-Eul shouted.

Woken up by Tae-Eul frantic gestures, Eun-Sup kept on rambling. “Noona, I literally just saw someone who looked exactly like me… that face, he’s right here. What the hell is this? He looks exactly like me. No. He is me. Who are you?”

“And who are you?” Yeong confronted Eun-Sup.

Tae-Eul could feel a headache coming on. Massaging her temples, she attempted a rational explanation.

“Eun-Sup. Let me explain. So this is like a parallel universe or something. Don’t get too startled and listen to me, alright?”

“I didn’t realize it until now, but I’m pretty handsome.” Eun-Sup cut her off.

Yes, okay. This was Eun-Sup alright.

“You really didn’t know? How could you not know? I’m sure people around you would’ve told you all the time.” Yeong added, keeping a straight face on.

Gon and Tae-Eul looked at each other.

Eun-Sup, who seemed to have regained his wits, shook his shaggy hair. “Wow, so this means everything was true, right? The Kingdom of Corea really exists, and King Arthur really is the King? Wow! Then you’re the King’s bodyguard, right?”

“No. Are you doing military duties right now? Is the military service compulsory here?” Yeong asked, looking at Eun-Sup’s uniform.

“What do you mean? Is it different where you live?”

“Our military system is on a voluntary basis.”

“Really? Then it means you don’t need to go…”

Tae-Eul let out a long sigh at Yeong and Eun-Sup’s back and forth verbal sparring. This conversation could drag on and on. The Taekwondo center wasn’t a safe place to hide Eun-Sup’s double.

They would be safer at Eun-Sup’s place. It was a school holidays so the twins were back at home and Eun-Sup currently lived alone in the apartment.

She ushered the two of them outside and set up a few basic rules in order for them to co-exist in this world. Eun-Sup could go out and live his life during the day. They would switch at sundown and Yeong could go out at night.

—

Leaving Yeong and Eun-Sup to bicker, Tae-Eul brought Gon to their usual bbq chicken place. She didn’t know how long Gon would stay this time around. Regardless, she had been meaning to give him a cellphone so they could reach each other whenever they felt like it.

Tae-Eul saved all the necessary numbers and slid the brand new phone over to Gon.

Her number. Shin-Jae’s, Eun-Sup’s, Nari’s and the Dojang’s landline number.

“Unlike someone, my salary is chicken feed, and I don’t have a mountain full of rare-earth elements. So I bought it with a 12-month installment plan. Don’t break it and take care of it. Don’t forget to answer my calls. I saved all the numbers you will need in this world.”

“It seems like you bought it and waited for me to come back. Why did you save Shin-Jae’s number though?”

Gon felt a surge of happiness at the idea that Tae-Eul bought this phone for him and waited for him to come back to give it to him. However, his light mood rapidly changed when he saw Shin-Jae’s number on the phone’s bright screen.

“They are the five people who will help you regardless of anything in this world. And Shin-Jae is one of the most trustworthy people.”

“Not you?”

“For me, the citizens of this nation come first.”

With the device still in his hand, Gon dialed Tae-Eul’s number.

At the sound of her ringtone, Tae-Eul instinctively grabbed her own phone, wondering who might want to reach her at this time of the day.

Lee Gon.

Gon gestured for her to pick up the call.

“Is it you?”

“Hang up.”

“Don’t hang up. I always wanted to try this.”

“What is this?”

“Just a normal daily life with you. Call you… chat on the phone…”

“…”

“Ask you what you did today… and tell you that I missed you a lot.” Gon went on.

He was saying aloud all the things Tae-Eul had been thinking about in his absence. She could see the waiter approaching their table with their order.

“Me too.” Tae-Eul admitted in one breath.

Gon’s chest tightened, joy rippling through him. He didn’t know his heart could beat so fast.

“We have somewhere to go after we eat.” Tae-Eul announced, grabbing a piece of chicken.

“…?”

“It’s something I’ve been planning for a long time.”

[lovelylogans]

the danes family christmas

or: the danes-sanders-prince-tamura-cabrera-key-bowes christmas. but danes family christmas flows a bit easier, doesn’t it?

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, mentions of divorce, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: patton/virgil, logan/roman

word count: 5,876

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic. happy christmas, a belated happy hanukkah, and a happy early kwanzaa! if you don’t celebrate any of those, then happy friday! this is essentially a “where are they now” snapshot of the danes family, who were all introduced in last year’s christmas fic. i hope you enjoy!

⁂

it starts when virgil hangs up the phone at the diner—the landline against the wall right by the entry to the kitchen, not his cellphone—looking strangely happy. and, considering there were only ever two kinds of phone calls that phone received, one of which being business calls—

“mom or dad?” patton asks, as he sits at the counter.

“my mom,” virgil says. “freddie finally got the flights finalized, they’re coming for christmas.”

patton claps in excitement. “that’s great!”

“so that’s everyone,” virgil says brightly. “all five of us, plus spouses and partners and kids, ‘cept—”

and then he stops himself, tilts his head, and asks, “hey, what are your christmas plans?”

⁂

and so it begins—patton negotiates them out of attending any sanders’ christmas celebrations, in exchange promising to bring himself and logan and the new beaus (as his mother had called them) to a cocktail get-together on new year’s eve. 

and then virgil had caught on to the fact them all leaving would leave roman and isadora as the only ones in their little cobbled-together family in sideshire for christmas, and freddie had, too, and immediately gotten on the phone to beg isadora to come along, so that meant crafting an elaborate plan for a road trip on christmas after the matinee christmas morning performance of the nutcracker, which is where they are now: all five of them in virgil’s car, suitcases packed away in the trunk, on their way down to the elder danes’ family home.

oh, and in the middle of all these preparations, not one but two romantic unions were formed, so. it’s been a bit of a busy couple of months.

“okay,” roman says, from where he’s stuffed in the middle seat between logan and his mom, virgil driving and patton attempting to play at navigator, “run me through the entire family tree again, it’s been a minute since i’ve seen everyone.”

so logan opens his phone, scrolls for a little bit, then clicks on a photo they must have taken the last time they were all together in a big group, and zooms in before he hands the phone over to roman to hold. roman’s mom peers over his shoulder.

“so, we’ll start with the danes’,” logan says, and taps each of their faces as he goes—”meredith, mark, wyatt, esther, silas, winifred, and of course, virgil.”

“right.”

he then proceeds to tap the woman and man flanking wyatt. “adam bowes and alexandria cabrera, but she goes by lexa—”

isadora tilts her head at lexa. “i remember her. isn’t she colombian?”

“her parents immigrated from ecuador,” virgil corrects, “but she studied abroad for a bit in colombia, so you’re probably remembering that.”

“—they’re wyatt’s partners,” logan continues, and points to the children in front of them. “nicola’s oldest, she’s fourteen. then there’s wesley, who goes by wes, he’s twelve. is their dad going to be there?” he asks virgil.

“no, he’s off with his girlfriend,” virgil says, and scowls a little. patton thinks he's clearly about to say good riddance—he isn’t particularly a fan of lexa’s first husband. none of the adults are, really, but none of them ever breathed a word about it in front of the kids.

“all right, so i don’t have to find a picture of him,” logan says. “then there’s elizabeth who goes by ellie, eight, and abigail who goes by abby, five.”

roman mumbles names under his breath, tapping each of their photos, before he adjusts the picture. “right. so, essie.”

“you know annabelle, her wife,” logan says, pointing to the black woman with her arm slung over essie’s shoulders. “they were foster parents for a time, so they adopted michael who goes by mike or mikey, he’s twelve, and his sister sophia. she’s seven. and they also adopted theodore who goes by teddy, he’s eight—”

“—nine,” virgil corrects, “his birthday was last month—”

“right, he’s nine, they adopted him three years ago.”

more repetition of names to himself, and then roman adjusts the photo.

“silas,” he prompts.

“his wife, moira,” logan says, pointing to the redhead beside him. “and the twins, emma and devon, they’re ten.”

“they just had a baby in august, too,” virgil says. “meredith junior, but they’re calling her red, for now, so that no one confuses her and my mom. you can guess why, it’s pretty obvious she’s taking after moira already. it’ll be easy to spot her, she’s the only baby.”

“and freddie,” isadora says, craning her neck to look at the photo. “how long has it been since she’s come back for christmas?”

“at least a couple years just for christmas, but she’s visited a couple times,” virgil says. “still, it’ll be nice to see her and ryu and the kids.”

“akira who goes by kira, and nikko,” logan provides for roman. “they’re twins, age six. and sayuri, but she goes by lily sometimes—”

“how’d that happen?” roman says, looking to virgil for help.

“sayuri means ‘lily,’” virgil says. “‘little lily,’ i think, but i can’t remember the exact translation. she’s three.”

“and—where do they live?” roman says.

“tokyo,” patton says, twisting to look at virgil. “they moved last year, didn’t they?”

“that’s right,” virgil confirms. “they lived in kyoto for a while, but freddie got a pretty good job offer, so. tokyo it is.”

“and then there’s us,” logan says. “i assume you don’t need a photo, name, or age breakdown for any of us.”

roman snorts, and says, “no, i guess i not.” he blows out a breath, before he scrolls back over, and says, “right, okay. remind me what everyone’s jobs are?”

and so the rest of the car ride passes, recalling the last times they’ve all seen various members of the danes family and passing on stories of visits past.

it’s about to be a marathon of a christmas.

⁂

by the time they’re pulling up to the danes’ house—windows down, because the elder danes’ live in a much warmer state and everyone seemed to have a simultaneous, unspoken agreement on the need to thaw from the brutally cold and snowy winter they’d been having so far—virgil’s leg is bouncing in excitement, and patton reaches across to put a hand on virgil’s, smiling at him.

“are we the last ones getting here?” he asks.

virgil nods his head. “miraculously, even wyatt and adam’s weird hours have lucked out, but adam’s exact words were don’t hold your breath—”

“of course, of course,” patton murmurs, because he probably should have guessed the orthopedic surgeon and the spinal surgeon would have some funky hours.

“—but i think everyone should be here? at least i didn’t hear that they got delayed, so.”

“please tell me we’re almost there,” roman groans.

“we’ll get there when we get there!” virgil and patton say simultaneously, and they both laugh at each other quoting the incredibles as roman groans louder.

patton’s glad to have the brief distraction of a pixar reference; as they’ve gotten nearer and nearer to the danes’ house, he’s felt a knot in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

he’s been spending holidays with the danes’ since logan was born, usually seeing at least one of them once a year—christmases, easters, family get togethers, he and logan have tagged along for years and years. 

he has a feeling that virgil and his parents would argue with the phrasing of tagged along, but he can’t help it—even if he knows he’s uncle patton to all the kids, and he knows logan refers to all the various danes progeny as his cousins, and he knows he and logan have long since received the food-based nicknames everyone in the family receives upon being born in and growing up in the family and at marriage, but—

well. he can’t help it, sometimes.

but now, he isn’t just tagging along. he’s the latest romantic partner in the family. he has started dating their youngest son, their baby brother, their beloved bachelor uncle. 

he can’t help but wonder if it’ll be like an entirely new dynamic. because he’s seen the way the latest romantic partners are introduced—he’s long since gotten used to the danes’ fond squabbling with each other, but it turns into a whole new level of teasing when they bring along a date.

“we are,” logan says, and points. “there it is.”

virgil examines the number of cars—he probably should have expected the full driveway—and pulls over to park on the side of the road, roman immediately demanding that either logan or his mother get out of the car right now or else he will crawl over them—

virgil and patton’s eyes meet, and patton smiles at him before they both turn to open their own car doors, roman getting out of the car hot on logan’s heels.

and then the danes’ front door opens, light spilling onto the lawn, and children barrel out of the house, almost all of them yelling at the top of their lungs, and virgil says “oof!” as he’s plowed into by three little girls, clinging at his legs, and virgil immediately swings the nearest up into his arms.

“oh, hello, everyone!” virgil says, beaming, looking years younger as ellie clings to his neck, and patton grins at him even as abby notices he has a free set of arms and immediately demands a hug, and patton can’t help but oblige, lifting her up onto his hip, distantly pleased that he still can carry her, because goodness, she’s gotten so tall!

“girls!” someone at the door calls, and patton looks up at lexa in the doorway with a grin. “let your uncles get inside before you tackle them, please!”

“aw, mom!” ellie grumbles, even as virgil’s setting her down and grinning apologetically at lexa, a hand resting on sophia’s hair.

“sorry, lex!” virgil calls, and pats ellie on the shoulder, murmuring something quietly to ellie and sophia ear that makes them both grin, brown eyes sparkling; patton follows his lead, setting abby down.

“uncle patty—” she begins to whine.

“i know, i know,” he says, crouching down to tug lightly at her braided dirty blonde hair, to make her giggle. “but, tell you what. if you listen to your mom, how about you and me sneak some cookies from your grandma, huh?”

abby brightens, and immediately rushes off, right on her sister’s and cousin’s heels. 

“do you need any help?” adam says, his head popping out from behind lexa.

“no, we’re all right, thanks!” roman calls, isadora already shutting the trunk, all of their bags unloaded and just waiting to be carried inside—patton doubles back for his, but virgil’s already swinging his bag over his shoulder before patton can do anything about it.

“i could—” patton begins, but virgil leans down and kisses him before he can say anything about it. virgil grins even wider when patton just blinks at him, half-forgetting what he was saying.

“i got it,” virgil says reassuringly, “honestly, we’re gonna need someone to open the door, so,” and patton huffs.

“fine,” he grumbles, pretending to be put out, as the part of him that was raised with things like gentlemen should open the door for you, and carry things that are heavy, and care for you in general is sending butterflies fluttering in his tummy. because, one, virgil is being a gentleman, but also, patton has an opportunity to be a gentleman.

the things that give him gender euphoria are so weird, honestly.

but patton trots ahead and opens the door for virgil (and his son, and isadora, and roman) and is nearly bowled over by a wave of noise.

the sound of about twenty-four people all calling hello to their brother slash in-law and his weird little accrued pool of family all calling their hellos back tends to do that, patton guesses.

but once everyone’s funneled their way through the door, patton tries to close it; before he’s even fully shut the door behind them, though, abby’s clinging to his leg, grinning up at him.

“cookies now?” she asks.

patton tousles her hair. “gotta set up our alibi, squirt. we’re doing this secretly. it’s a mission.”

abby’s eyes brighten. “like spies?”

“exactly like spies,” patton says, in a hushed tone as if he’s being very quiet and secretive, as if he isn’t fully aware that her mother is keeping an eye on them and folding her lip under her teeth to keep from laughing, even as she’s hugging virgil hello.

abby scuttles off, though, as one of her other parents approaches to give patton a friendly, one-armed hug, seeming to fear the potential of revealing their secret mission.

“hey, patton,” adam says easily. “good to see you’re recovered from the pneumonia, congrats on romancing virgil,” patton blinks rapidly and attempts to come up with a response to that, but adam’s already continuing, “and try to keep her from taking too many, yeah? she’s already been spoiled rotten by her gramps today.”

“can do,” patton says, and so begins the shuffle around the room of saying hello to everyone; the kids are all in one section, already, seemingly preoccupied by various board games, but nicola’s unfolded herself from the group to go up to logan already; the pair of them are closest in age, and they’re also quite the pair of brainiacs, so they’ve been close ever since lexa and the kids came to the first family gathering years ago.

“i despise operator algebra,” she’s telling him.

“well, good thing you aren’t planning on going into quantum field theory, then,” logan responds, and patton loses the plot of that conversation because he’s nearly bumped off his feet.

“sorry!” freddie squeaks, red high in her pale cheeks and a glass of meredith’s near-lethal spiked eggnog in her hand; he suspects it to be the culprit for any uncharacteristic clumsiness and he pulls her into a hug even as he’s laughing out forgiveness.

“heard about you and virgil,” freddie says, “finally.”

“oh—um,” patton stammers, trying his hardest not to blush.

“thrilled to have you, really,” freddie says, bumping into him again, this time purposefully. “and, hey! heard you got sick, you’re all better now, right?”

“right,” he says, then, curiously, “um, how was the trip?” 

“have you ever had to handle six-year-old twins on a trans-pacific trip?” she says, and patton winces in sympathy; as polite as the twins are, being raised with the japanese code of etiquette, they are still freddie’s kids, and therefore also incredibly rambunctious.

“my condolences,” patton tells her, then, to her husband who’s hovering silently over her shoulder, he attempts to get his way through saying long time no see in japanese to ryu, who’s been trying to teach them all conversational bits of japanese for years (mostly because they’d all insisted; they did the same to lexa, too. meredith’s parents had learned to greet mark’s family in their native italian, so it had become something of a family tradition to learn at least a little of the language of their spouse.)

“ohisashiburi desu,” ryu enunciates for him, and patton groans. 

“i thought i had it this time!”

“you were close,” ryu says, which patton thinks is mostly out of politeness, but he’ll accept it anyways. “sayuri, say hello!”

he glances down, then, in time to notice a three-year-old clinging to ryu’s pantleg, just barely peeking out from behind him, the most visible thing being her near-black eyes, shiny and wide.

sayuri ducks out from behind ryu to bow to patton.

“and hello to you too!” patton says, keeping his voice as soft and friendly as he can.

sayuri looks up at ryu, who nods in approval, murmuring something to her in japanese, and she scampers back behind him, clinging once again to his pant leg.

“sorry,” freddie says, not sounding very sorry at all. “lily’s the shy one.”

“oh, it’s all right,” patton says. “it must have been a big day for her, traveling and seeing everyone again and all.”

“that it is,” freddie says, then, to ryu, “d’you think she needs a nap?”

patton takes that as his cue to resume greeting everyone else; he ducks briefly into the kitchen (where abby is, very unsubtly, eyeing the platter of cookies on the counter) and can’t help but coo at the sight that greets him.

“aw, hello,” he murmurs. 

moira, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail and a smidge frizzy, looking haggard in a way that only parents to babies ever seem to look, smiles up at him. “hi, patton.”

“hi, patton,” silas echoes awkwardly, from where he’s washing dishes at the sink.

“hi, silas, hi moira,” he says; usually, he’d be all caught up in the amount of fondness he has for moira, distinctly unbalanced in comparison to his relationship with silas, which is still a touch thorny, even after all this time, but, well. there’s a new member of the family to introduce himself to. 

“this must be meredith junior!”

meredith junior is preoccupied with drinking from a bottle, and does not respond to him, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

“that she is,” moira says proudly. 

“oh, she’s beautiful,” patton says warmly, looking at her and feeling all warm and happy because Baby Feelings, and it reminds him of logan when he was at that age; meredith junior (red, he remembers virgil saying) is also a small baby, like logan was, her hair downy and just as red as her mother’s. 

moira smiles at her. “yeah, she is. you wanna hold her later?”

“later,” patton repeats, putting up his hands. “i know how important feeding time is. i was just ducking in to say hi, get a drink,” he directs a wink at abby, who attempts to wink back at him, but she hasn’t really gotten the hang of that yet and so she just blinks at him with extra emphasis.

“eggnog’s in the fridge,” silas mutters. “solo cups should have a sharpie next to it, for names.”

“thanks, silas,” patton says, and ducks around him; he ends up pouring himself a bit of cranberry punch, instead, and obligingly writes PATTON on his cup in large letters. then, with a level of slightly overexaggerated sneakiness that goes unnoticed by moira, preoccupied with the baby, and silas, preoccupied with the dishes, patton snatches a stack of ginger snaps, which are just as good now as they were sixteen years ago. abby jumps up and down, pressing her hands over her mouth to keep from making any noise. 

“well, i’m out of your hair.”

“we’re talking later!” moira calls after him, “i’m thrilled, i want to hear all about you and virgil!”

patton tries his very hardest not to blush, and ducks out of the kitchen instead. he splits the cookies in half, handing the other half to abby.

“thanks, uncle patty!”

“you’re welcome,” patton says. “hey, go give one to your sister, okay?”

“okay!” she says, and speeds off across the room. patton spies her handing a cookie to ellie and briefly tugging at nicola’s jeans to get her attention, giving her one too, and patton smiles after her, before he turns to scan the rest of the room for people he hasn’t said hi to yet.

he is immediately face-to-face with essie and annabelle, who beam at him in unison.

“patton!”

“annabelle, essie!” patton says, hugging the pair of them. “it’s great to see you!”

“great to see you too!” essie says. “we’ll have to get together sometime soon, you and virgil and us—”

“—we can do a double-date!” annabelle adds excitedly.

“—we can come to you, or you can catch the train down to us,” essie continues. 

“oh—” patton says, a little flustered. “um—good! that’s good! that sounds—”

“good?” annabelle says, grinning, clearly very close to laughing at him.

looking for something in the room to change the subject, he glances around and notices, for the first time, two missing members of the family.

“where’s mark and meredith?”

“oh, mom ran out to the corner store for something, i think dad’s on the porch showing off the grill he got for the neighbors,” essie says dismissively, before she reaches over to squeeze his arm. “seriously. so thrilled for the pair of you, we have to do dinner soon.”

“sounds good,” patton says honestly, because it does; getting together with the pair of them, plus mikey, teddy, and sophia, sounds really good.

“i’m gonna go say hi to the kids,” he adds.

“okay!” essie says.

“we’ll catch up later,” annabelle says. it only sounds a little bit like a threat.

he doesn’t even really need to step too far to encounter the kids corner.

“hi, kids!” he says.

“hi, uncle patton,” the kids all drone, not tearing their eyes away; it seems the other board games have fallen to the wayside, the lot of them watching what seems to be the main event with bated breath.

“hello, patton,” wyatt echoes serenely, a pair of tweezers in hand as he observes the operation board. “i congratulate your immune system on its strength in overcoming the pneumococcal pneumonia, and i congratulate you on entering courtship with my brother.”

patton fails, this time, in trying not to blush, which probably wouldn’t be seen by any of the kids, anyways—“c’mon, uncle wyatt!” teddy urges from the sidelines—and wyatt flawlessly maneuvers the tweezers, and very slowly, very carefully, removes the wishbone without bumping any of the walls, and half the kids groan.

“i should have known better than to start this,” wes mutters under his breath, accepting the tweezers from his stepfather. “hi, uncle patton.”

“hiya, wes,” patton says, amused; at least once a year, someone challenged either of the surgeons in the family to a game of operation, and it always ended up with a crowd gathered around like this. “doing okay so far?”

“i’ve buzzed twice,” wes sighs, and squints at the card. “oh, great. i’ve got the funny bone. okay—”

he readjusts his grip, and patton takes a few steps back, so as to not distract him any more than he needs to be distracted, taking a second to look in on nicola and logan—who are deep into conversation about something called hermitian adjoint with excited expressions on their faces, and roman looks as confused as patton feels—before someone taps him on the shoulder.

“doing okay?”

patton turns to smile up at virgil.

“doing fine,” he promises, and sets his cup down on the nearest surface so he can reach out to correct virgil’s collar. “have you said hi to everyone?”

“yeah, just about,” virgil says, then, “um, they haven’t said anything to you about—?”

“oh, y’know,” patton says with a jerk of his head. “moira says she’s thrilled, essie wants to get all together for dinner, freddie said finally, wyatt congratulated the strength of my immune system and my success in courting you, et cetera, et cetera.”

virgil snorts, ducking his head and rubbing sheepishly at the nape of his neck. “guess i probably should’ve warned you ‘bout that, huh?”

“nah, i knew it’d probably happen,” he teases. “you’re forgetting i was at dinner when freddie brought the news of her elopement and the brand-new husband none of us had ever heard of before.”

“still can’t believe she did that,” virgil says with a disbelieving shake of his head.

patton laughs a little, too, before he says, “i was expecting it a little, i guess—i mean, you’ve got four older siblings, i was a little nervous there’d probably be a bit of hazing to go through, now that i’m a boyfriend.”

“you didn’t mention that,” virgil says with a frown. “i can tell them to lay off, if you—”

patton waves him off, even as he still feels the tight knot in his stomach.

“it’s okay,” he says, and it is okay, it’s just nerve-wracking, “i’ve gotten through the first of it, it’s okay. just, y’know. i’m a little nervous to talk to your parents, i guess.”

“they love you,” virgil says immediately. “they’re delighted about this, i promise, they told me so.”

“virge?”

“yeah?” he asks, a protective expression still on his face. patton takes both his hands in his own, looking up at him with a very serious expression on his face.

“remember your siblings teasing me when you have to sit through an emily-and-richard dinner,” he says, “and then we can say we’re nearly even.”

virgil’s lip quirks up. “nearly?”

“well,” patton says, “you’re probably gonna have to go to a few friday night dinners, so i’m definitely gonna owe you for that more than you owe me for this.”

virgil grimaces at the mention of friday night dinners looming in his future like the ghost of christmas yet to come.

“think happy thoughts?” patton offers, with an apologetic grin on his face.

“what thought is happy enough to get me through that?”

patton pretends to think about it, tilting his head back and forth, before he offers in a faux-innocent tone, “egging their car on easter?”

a slightly goofy grin breaks out on virgil’s face, and patton laughs at the sight of it. 

“well, if i must,” virgil says. “might even have to refresh that memory with a repeat performance.”

“don’t you dare,” patton says, in a tone entirely too sappy for what he’s saying.

“or what?” virgil says, grinning down at him, and he’s so stinkin’ cute that patton can’t help but rise onto his tippy toes to kiss the grin right off his face.

their lips barely brush before the hollering starts—there’s a wolf-whistle in there somewhere, but mostly things along the line of “EW, uncle VIRGIL, kissing is GROSS,” and “hey, hey, hands off my baby brother!”—and patton breaks away from virgil with a nervous giggle, blushing, fully aware that if most of the people in the room weren’t looking at him before, they certainly were now. patton finds himself unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“oh, c’mon,” freddie says, grinning, sayuri in her arms and looking quite close to nodding off to sleep, “it’s about time, now that they’re dating.”

“finally,” essie adds, not quite under her breath, then—

“wait.”

patton turns, then, to where the kids have gathered in the corner; mikey, essie and annabelle’s oldest son, is staring at them with large brown eyes.

“wait,” mikey repeats, “what do you mean, now they’re dating?”

“you weren’t dating before?” his brother teddy says, sounding equal parts confused and indignant.

“no, we weren’t dating before,” virgil says. “but we—we are. now. so.”

teddy still looks puzzled.

“well, we loved each other for a very long time,” patton explains, because for as smart as all the kids are, teddy is nine years old, and therefore not quite fully aware of the complexities of adult relationships, “and we told each other that recently. so. now we’re dating, but we’ve loved each other for much longer.”

“well, that’s okay then,” teddy decides, and patton can’t help but snort.

anyone still staring at the pair of them gets distracted by the sound of a door stuck in its lock, before it suddenly bursts open, bringing with it a rush of warm outdoor air and the clunking of a cane hitting the hardwood.

“damn door keeps sticking,” mark grumbles under his breath, looking up and taking a moment to scan the room before his eyes brighten. “virgil! when did you sneak in, bunny?”

meredith pokes her head around his shoulder, eyes bright; she's carrying a shopping bag in one arm that emma and devon, silas' girls, scuttle up and take off her hands, ferrying it to the kitchen for her.

"ten or so minutes ago," virgil says, crossing the room, grinning; unspoken, both patton and logan fall into step behind virgil, approaching the danes family patriarch and matriarch together.

mark is already pulling his youngest son into a hug, squeezing virgil tight, and patton can't help but smile at the way virgil grips his father just as tightly; mark's had a bit of trouble with his health over the past couple years—primarily struggling with his knee, which had been replaced a month before thanksgiving this year—and patton knows it had scared him, at the time, and it made him all the more appreciative of the time he gets to spend with his father. 

"good to see you, son," mark says warmly, patting virgil's back roughly a couple times for emphasis.

"snap," meredith says warmly, and patton grins—the ginger snaps he ate his weight in at the first danes christmas celebrations he'd ever attended have become his nickname namesake—before he approaches and pulls her into a hug.

"welcome," meredith says, pulling away, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "and congratulations are in order, aren't they?"

patton flushes, but before she can tease him anymore, mark's eyes land on logan.

"god, look at you!" mark says. "you're tall! how much have you grown? a foot? more? what on earth are you feeding him, virgil?" mark asks, turning to him, and virgil puts his hands up, smirking.

"i think i've grown four and a half inches, since the last time i saw you," logan says, before he steps forward and hugs mark, adding quietly, "it's good to see you, nonno."

patton's smile widens at that. emily and richard have always been grandma and grandpa, to logan, and maria, the previous manager at the inn who had taken in patton and logan, has been nana, but mark and meredith have always been nonno and nonna; grandpa and grandma in italian, where mark's family had emigrated from before mark was born.

"and it's good to see you, jammy," mark says, equally warmly, before he draws back, making eye contact with logan, and not having to tilt his head downwards anymore; they're almost on the same level now. "goodness. it'll take some time to get used to that. hit your growth spurt with a vengeance then, just like your dad—"

and then mark's eyes fall to patton, and patton smiles a little nervously, twisting his fingers together.

"hi, mark."

something in mark's eyes go soft, and he steps forward to hug patton just as tightly as he had hugged virgil and logan, to hold patton just as close, and patton isn't sure why his eyes are suddenly stinging, but they are, and he squeezes them shut and takes in a deep breath as he hugs mark back.

"we're overjoyed," mark says quietly, and draws back to look at patton, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes growing more pronounced with his smile. "oh, patton, we're so thrilled for the pair of you, truly we are. you've always been part of the family, but now—well," he says, and looks between virgil and patton.

"the pair of you, making each other happy," meredith says. "it's everything a mother could want for her boys."

patton struggles to swallow, and he can only smile guilelessly at them both as he waits for the lump in his throat to pass.

"now, we heard about your health scare after thanksgiving," mark says, frowning. "you're too young for such things. you're all better now, aren't you? all fixed up?"

"doctor says i am a-okay," patton manages to croak out.

"wonderful," meredith says, "and no more of any of that."

"you should remain hale and hearty, or else," mark adds, finishing her sentence; they've been married for so long, it's almost like they've become symbiotic.

"or else what?" patton says, achieving something close to his normal tone and not sounding like he's about to cry tears of happiness anymore.

"or else i'll set my wife on you," he says, before he claps logan on the back. "now, i hear that you have brought your boyfriend to meet the family!"

"you've met," logan says, beginning to blush, but he goes to get roman anyways; nicola coos "oooh," after the pair of them with all the teasing in her tone that one would expect from a younger cousin.

roman holds logan's hand as they approach.

"sir, ma'am," roman says respectfully, the picture of a proper young man; isadora looks on approvingly from where she's holed up in a corner with ryu, freddie, and a now-sleeping sayuri.

"this is roman prince, nonna, nonno," logan says, squeezing roman's hand tight and leaning into his side. "i love him very much."

mark's smile goes even softer at that; patton leans his head on virgil's shoulder, his cheeks aching.

"aw, shucks, specs," roman says, grinning at logan, "i love you very much too."

"well," mark says gently. "what grandparent doesn't like to hear that? we are very happy to have you and your mother, roman."

"come and sit," meredith says eagerly. "indulge two old crones in some conversation; i hear you want to take after your mother and go into ballet?"

and so mark, meredith, logan, and roman settle on the couch, logan still clinging to roman's hand and looking the most outwardly fond that patton has ever seen him look. it's enough to have the lump in his throat come roaring back with a vengeance.

virgil touches his shoulder, a silent question—you all right?

patton smiles at him and nods, before someone taps him on the arm, and he looks up.

"spouses club meeting," annabelle says, hooking her arm through his.

"what?" patton says.

"spouses club meeting," lexa repeats.

"i'm—i'm not a," patton says, blushing. he isn't the only one—he sees virgil going red, too. they've been dating for barely a couple weeks, that's very far off from—well—

"i'm not a spouse either, technically," lexa points out, "but that's what we're calling it anyways. virgil, we're stealing your boyfriend."

"do i have a choice in the matter?"

"nope!" lexa says cheerfully. "you, patton sanders, have gossip for us."

"goss—" patton repeats, frowning, before he looks to virgil. "oh—oh! lex, it isn't gossip, really—"

"not gossip, sure," annabelle scoffs. "it's only been ten years, we're getting the story—"

"steal him," virgil says immediately.

"traitor," patton cries out, softly enough so that it doesn't attract the attention of anyone else in the room; he'd gotten enough of that when he'd tried to kiss virgil.

"you aren't automatically immune, you've got siblings to deal with," annabelle tells virgil sweetly, and laughs when virgil pulls a face, suddenly looking younger, like the man in his early twenties that he had been their first christmas all together like this.

and so patton is tugged off into the kitchen, where adam, lexa, annabelle, moira, and ryu all sit, ready to hear the story of how they got together, and patton knows that the rest of their trip will be spent like this—being pulled off into subgroups, whether it be spouses, or kids, or siblings, or other arbitrary combinations that would happen on the fly. patton knows he'll spend the rest of the trip eating his weight in ginger snaps, and coming up with fun activities for the kids, and having a million different conversations with everyone, trying to organize how they'll be able to gather in smaller groups during the new year, and— 

—and patton knows he's in for a very chaotic, very merry christmas.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.6. SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st

Warren County, Illinois

There was a knock at her bedroom door.

Leighton lifted her head and puffed the blond hair out of her eyes with her mouth, taking a glance at her Hello Kitty alarm clock. ‪8:57‬.

Fuck Diego, I told you to text me. She thought as she cleared her throat.

“Come in.”

Mya walked in the room.

And as if it wasn't weird enough for Mya to be walking in the room---seriously, she wasn't even on Leighton's radar of people who would be walking into her bedroom at that moment---it was even more weird that Mya appeared to be dressed like some sort of leopard. Even the remains of some face paint was smeared all over her round brown cheeks and streaking down her neck.

“Mya?” Leighton croaked as she turned over in her bed, “What are you doing here? Who even let you in?”

Mya plopped down on the end of Leighton's bed. “Your mom did. What are you still doing in bed?”

“My mom is awake?” Leighton lay on her back and looked at the ceiling.

“Yeah, she's up and watching the news like everyone else. Seriously she starts drinking really early. Not even ten and she's got her a bottle of wine.”

Leighton sat back up on her elbows and frowned, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why aren't you watching the news?” Mya asked, “I heard about it on the radio. I was on my way home but I didn't want to go home just yet. I don't want to hear any shit from my mom and with what went on last night, I'm sure I'll hear my fair share.”

Leighton shook her head with exasperation, “What?”

“Girl..haven't you seen all the trucks parked outside? Turn on the news! Where's your remote for this TV”.

Leighton pointed to her vanity and swung her legs off the bed, sitting up. “It's over there, knock yourself out I guess.”

Mya padded across the room and scooped up the remote. Leighton yawned and trudged out of the room toward the bathroom. A few minutes later she found Mya at the end of her bed glued to the television.

Leighton sat at her vanity and began to brush her perfect hair on her perfect head. What she saw on the television in the mirror's reflection made her stop. She turned around.

Mya had switched to the local news. An aerial shot showed Haddonfield's hospital in flames. A banner at the bottom of the screen read: HALLOWEEN HORROR IN SMALL TOWN. The news anchor's voice was droning: “So far twenty people are confirmed dead by Warren County Sheriff's office but when pressed if this twenty persons all came from the hospital or from other unconfirmed incidents we were told by our contact within the police department that they, and I quote, 'could not comment at this time'. Someone who may have answers we need however is Channel 7 reporter Holly West who has been covering ‪this night‬ of terror for this small Illinois town all night, she is down there live outside the hospital, Holly are you there?”

Leighton's mouth gaped open in a state of shock and amazement. She slowly put the brush down on the vanity and sat down on the bed next to Mya slowly.

🎃

Valentina Sequera sat on the shabby futon inside the trailer, cellphone in her hands, eyes glued on the old fashioned square television. She pushed her curly black hair, going gray in some places, out of her face, and watched as the news switched from the aerial shot of the burning hospital, to the pretty, albeit tired looking blonde news anchor on the ground.

Channel 7 Reporter Holly West stood in the parking lot of the hospital, the smoking building in the background. Beside her was an Hispanic woman that looked very familiar to Valentina.

I think we go to the same church, she thought.

“Holly West here, live from outside the scene at Haddonfield County-General Medical Center. I'm here with Rosalita, she was inside the hospital having just given birth to her new baby boy...first of all, are you and your baby okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Rosalita answered in an accent not as thick as Valentina's. “Thankfully to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, and all the Saints me and my new baby boy Rogelio are doing just fine.”

“Glad to hear that,” Holly replied smiling, “Now you were inside the hospital. Can you tell us what you experienced?”

“Yes ma'am,” the woman replied respectably, “my son was born ‪around 11:30‬ and we were resting in our room around 2, close to ‪2:30‬ when I hear a gunshot.”

“A gunshot!?” Holly looked surprisingly at the camera and then back at Rosalita, “We haven't heard reports yet of a gunshot, are you sure it was a gunshot?”

“Si..uh..yes ma'am,” the woman smiled knowingly, “mi husband...my ex-husband that is...he used to shoot guns...so I know the gun sound...and I would have to say it was definitely shotgun.”

Holly West's eyebrows did not fall, “Well you heard it here first ladies and gentlemen, shots fired at the hospital. Then what happened?”

Valentina couldn't pay attention. She picked up her phone, scrolled down into the contacts to the very common pet name hispanic mothers give their sons: MI GORDO and then hit CALL.

Straight to voicemail.

“Hola, dis' Diego, leave a message por favor... dejame un mensaje...”

She cut him off and dropped the phone in her lap. Her legs shook nervously.

Diego and his stupid Spanglish, she thought to herself in Spanish. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The bright green iguana mounted to the disc decorated in cacti and hues of southwest teals, purples, and pinks had his tail on the one and his head close to the nine indicating it was ‪9:05‬.

No need to worry really, she thought, it hasn't been that long. He may still be at the shop. He may have went to a friend's house. Her mind thought of the names of any of Diego's friends. Quinn...was that one? She asked herself. She glanced back at the TV, Rosalita was talking.

“Then Sherriff Brackett came in and took me and my baby to hide in a closet...”

Holly West cut her off, “A closet?”

“Yes,” Rosalita smiled nervously, she was searching for the right words in English, “like for medical supply and stuff.”

Holly West smiled and nodded, “Oh ok, a big supply closet.”

“Si..uh..yes. And then he go look to for help.”

“And then he went to go look for help?”

“Si...yes.”

“And did you see Sheriff Brackett again?” Holly asked.

“No.”

“What time was this?”

“Not long after we got in room, maybe 2...2:30.”

Valentina could only think of one more thing to do. She picked up the large white old fashioned cordless landline phone that lay on the couch beside her. Quickly, she scrolled through the history on the small digital display screen, found the number she wanted, and hit the CALL BACK button.

🔪

Leighton and Mya had moved to the living room. Leighton sat on the small sofa, wrapped in a quilt. The temperature outside had dropped considerably over the night. For the first time in several months the air conditioning was off and the house had a drafty damp feel. The world was gray and misty outside of the large regal windows of the mayoral mansion's living room.

Mya sat on the floor in front of the sofa next to the large glass coffee table. She had swiped Leighton's disposable make-up removal wipes from the bathroom, and now had a nice pile of gold and black stained wipes on the surface of the glass, right next to a large cup of orange juice.

Leigh Ann Roderick-Dodge, Leighton's mother and the wife of Haddonfield's unhonorable mayor, lay on the opposite, but matching sofa. Her head at one end, her feet on the other. She was beautiful, a former model in her twenties, she still looked gorgeous even with no make-up and her blonde hair tossed up in a messy bun at the top of her head. She was still dressed in a robe, and indeed, she held a large goblet of chardonnay in one hand and the television remote in the other. At the moment, all were fixated on Holly West's interview with Rosalita from the hospital.

“Did you notice when the power went out?” Holly asked.

“Si..there was big lightning strike and then...boom. No lights.” Rosalita made hand motions to illustrate the lightning.

“So you think the lightning knocked out the power?”

Rosalita nodded exhuberantly, “Definitely.”

“About what time was this?”

“We were there..about two hours...4 maybe..4:30.”

Leighton's phone went off. She looked at the screen: DIEGO HOME. She smirked to herself and hit the green button.

“What's up fucker? Thought you'd be sleeping.” She answered.

Mya laughed. Her mother glared at her. “Leighton Michelle!” She hissed, and took a sip of wine.

There was a pause on the other end and then she heard a woman's voice, in a thick hispanic accent say, “Um...yes..this Leighton? This is Diego's mom...Valentina.”

Leighton sat up on the couch and put her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp. “Oh Miss Sequira, I'm so sorry, I thought you were Diego.”

“Is okay,” Valentina said, “So he not with you. You know where he is?”
Leighton frowned. Why would Diego not be home. “No ma'am, I haven't seen him since he went into work yesterday.”

“He no tell you where he is?” Valentina struggled to say.

“No ma'am,” Leighton said, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Si..ok...thank you.”

Leighton clicked the red button and looked at the television. The banner at the bottom of the screen that moments ago had read: TERROR IN HADDONFIELD...now read: EYEWITNESS: SHOTS FIRED AT HOSPITAL.

Diego should have been home and in bed by now, she thought. And he said he was going to text me. She looked at her messages. No texts.

He probably went drinking with that guy Quinn from work.

She looked back at the TV. She read a part of the ticker at the very bottom of the screen: ...ITNESS REPORTS POWER WENT OUT AT HOSPITAL AFTER LIGHTNING STRI...

The storm, her mind exploded. He probably didn't go home after work because of the storm. He probably spent the night in the break-room. He had done it before, a few times, mostly when business got slow and he and Quinn had gotten drunk. She thought about calling Diego's mother back to set her mind at ease. She would have definitely called his work first, she thought. At least I hope.

Leighton picked up her phone and scrolled down into her contacts where it said DIEGO SUPERFUEL and hit the green button again.

She got a three chord tone. “I'm sorry but the number you are trying to reach is not in service.”

“Ok that's weird,” she said to herself as she ended the call.

“What?” Mya asked, eyes still on the screen which was now dominated once more by overhead shots of the burning hospital.

“Nothing,” she said to herself. But now she was beginning to worry.

🎃

Valentina had indeed tried the work phone number first and had gotten the same operator message. She got up from the couch and went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of lemonade from the fridge. The news reporter droned on from the television after her.

“If you are just joining us, we now have a witness account from inside the hospital stating that they heard shots fired before the power went out and before the explosion. I believe we now have to consider the possibility that some act of terrorism may have occurred in Haddonfield last night. We are going to replay that interview with a young mother who was in the hospital celebrating the birth of her new baby boy---”

Valentina sat down, took a sip of the lemonade and picked up the cordless phone once again. She dialed her son's cellphone number.

“Hola, dis' Diego, leave...”

She threw the phone down on the cushion next to her in disgust

NEXT>>

[babbushka]

Last Straw (7/12)

Newly married to your high school sweetheart Kylo Ren, the two of you move into Skywalker Ranch, a farm recently passed down after the death of Kylo’s grandfather. The place is charming, and the people seem friendly…but are they?

Content Warnings:  Violence, gore, blood mentions, mentions of cannibalism

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

No, you decide ultimately, you have such a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, that you can’t allow them inside your home, inside your farm. You wonder if they jumped your fence, or if they broke the lock, because you were sure Kylo had locked the gate behind you when you returned from the store, you were sure of it.

They’re standing there, expectantly, eerily still. Their eyes are wide and cold, dead like sharks. Except for William’s, who’s are too bright, too sad. You can’t look at him for too long, otherwise your stomach will twist, twist and churn with sadness. His hair is lank and greasy, and it looks like he has some kind of stains on his clothing that you aren’t really sure what they are.

“I’m really very sorry, but I don’t feel right having you sleep in our barn as if you’re animals.” You say, trying to pass it off like you’re being caring, and not that you’re so anxious that you could throw up. “I’m going to call the operator and have them send over a tow truck, I’m sure someone must be awake and working somewhere.”

“What, call right now?” Armitage asks, and his voice is so clipped and sharp that you almost feel the razors of his teeth against your ears.

Kylo hears it too, and he takes a protective step towards the boy. Armitage is dressed a little more put-together than his twin, his hair kept cropped close and short, his clothes buttoned up all the way, everything, the collar, the cuffs. He looks meticulous, where his brother looks unkempt. In fact, both he and Brendol look far more taken care of than William, and you cannot help but feel like something awful is going to happen to this boy, that something awful already has.

“Why is that a problem?” Kylo doesn’t notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. Either way, you have to grab his shoulder to prevent him from stalking further anymore.

You didn’t know if he would be able to get off the hook a second time.

“No, there’s – there’s no problem, it’s just that – ” William stammers out, eyes too wide and clear, hands fidgeting in the hem of his shirt.

“Just what?” Kylo challenges, but you squeeze his shoulder, an attempt to get him to stop, to just back down for two minutes.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to call the tow.” You announce loudly, before leaving Kylo’s side.

The phone is on the wall of the main hallway, an old-fashioned corded thing that if the circumstances were better, you might walk all around the living room with. But the circumstances being what they were, you waste no time punching in 9-1-1, holding your breath for the phone to ring.

“Sweetwater County P.D., what’s your emergency?” A woman picks up, and you let out a sigh of relief, lungs burning from having holding it in for so so so long.

“A strange man and his sons have shown up at our house, asking to sleep on our property. They claim their car is broken down, and I believe them, but I don’t want them here. Is there anyway someone could come down here? I’m frightened.” You rush, your eyes starting to well with panic.

“Ma’am what is your exact location?” The woman on the other line asks, and you’re quick to answer.

“The farmhouse at Skywalker Ranch, off i-Four.” You tell her, and you can hear her calling out officers to send. You and the police have a nasty track record, what with the whole thing with Kylo, but you’re grateful for literally anyone showing up, at this point.

“Does this family have ginger hair by any chance?” The operator asks, and your blood runs cold.

“Yes.” You whisper, clutching the phone in your now trembling hands. “Yes, all three of them.”

“You have to listen to me. Stay where you are, we have dispatched units on the way. These men are armed and dangerous – do not allow them into your home. I repeat they are armed and dangerous.” The woman says and you want to cry, want to scream, want to warn Kylo – but you know that’s stupid, so you just grit your teeth and suppress every urge in your body to punch something.

You don’t know if they’re listening, if they’re watching, from the front door. Your back is to them, so you don’t know. You don’t want to give anything away.

“Fuck, fuck! What do I do? What do we do?” You whisper frantically into the phone.

“Stay on the line with me ma’am, is there anyone else in the home?” She asks, and you nod, even though she can’t see.

“Yes, my husband, oh my god he’s out there talking with them right now!” You start to hyperventilate, just from the sheer absurdity, the sheer terror.

Armed and dangerous.

Armed and dangerous.

They looked like the sick kind of dangerous, the twisted kind.

“Please remain calm, he’ll be alright as long as he can stall, the police are on their way.” The woman assures you, but you spare a glance to the door, and see them growing more and more heated.

“How long? How long do we have to keep them occupied?” You demand, hands fully shaking now, terrified, holding your breath again.

“Five minutes tops, we know exactly where you are. You did the right thing to call us.” The woman says and you chew your lip, chew it, worry it enough that you can taste copper in your mouth.

“I can’t – I can’t stay on the line, it’s going to get suspicious, they’ll know something is wrong.” You explain.

“Ma’am it’s not wise for you to hang up until the police arrive.” The woman says quickly, and you frown, weren’t they supposed to remain calm themselves? Why does she sound like she’s got an edge to her voice?

“I know, I know but my husband is – if he’s there alone he’ll kill them, oh my god he’ll kill them if they try anything.” You realize, knowing exactly where the weapons he kept in the house are, knowing exactly where the axe, the rifle, the revolver were.

And you knew he knew exactly how to use them.

“Are you calling on a cellphone?” The operator asks.

“No, on a landline. I have one but the signal is shit out here, we don’t have a tower anywhere.” You explain, and you can hear her shuffling some things around, clicking on her keyboard.

“Call the station on your cell phone right now, and keep it in your pocket, then hang up this phone and get your husband away from those people you do not want to fuck with them.” She says, voice hard.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You don’t bother to ask any more questions, you fish out your cell phone from the pocket of your robe and with shaking fingers, tap in 9-1-1. When the ringing stops and someone has picked up, you ask, “Are you there?”

“I’m here, now go, keep the phone on. The police will be there any minute.” The woman says, and you do as you’re told.

When you re-join Kylo and Hux at the front door, it seems to be in the nick of time. Kylo’s hands are balled into fists, and his stance is planted, as if he’s ready to attack. Someone a long time ago had once called him a guard dog, an attack dog. They hadn’t been wrong.

Something screams in the distance, some animal, some poor creature with a high pitched gnashing and whine, a mangled, deranged scream.

“What is that?” You ask, but Kylo doesn’t reply, he doesn’t dare look away from Hux. “Where’s Brendol and William?”

The screaming stops.

“Is someone coming?” Brendol asks, emerging from the depths of night, stepping into the light on the porch, seemingly as if summoned. He looks ruffled, and you want to be sick.

“Great news, the operator was able to direct me to a tow company, they’re on their way with some spares.” You lie. It’s not a good lie, not a good lie at all, but how can it be when the gnashing and thrashing starts up again? Like some tortured thing just beyond in the shadows where you can’t see.

“We don’t know how we could ever repay you for your kindness.” Brendol says, although he’s tense, too tense. He doesn’t mean it.

“Oh please don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all, anything to help.” You say. You don’t mean it either.

“May we come inside your lovely home? At least until the tow arrives.” Brendol asks, teeth sharp when he smiles, gums too red, teeth pink. Why were they pink?

“No, I’m sorry, I’m afraid our house is under extreme renovations right now. It wouldn’t be safe, especially not for your boys. I wouldn’t want them getting hurt.” You say, because Kylo is apparently incapable of speech, too angry, doing everything in his power to restrain himself.

“You know it’s really very rude of you, to deny us like this.” Brendol explodes, face red, spit flying from when his temper snaps. “It’s just the barn!”

That is enough for Kylo, that is the last straw. He lunges and tackles the man to the ground, wrestles with him until he has Brendol flat on his back, and begins to pummel the shit out of his face with those hardened calloused knuckles of his.

“Do not!” He begins to scream, to spit at Brendol, “Shout at my fucking wife! Do you understand me?”

“Kylo, it’s alright.” You panic, you shout, you yell, you plead, “Kylo, please.”

Armed and dangerous.

Just then, the sirens and lights come into full effect.

A helicopter hovers over the farm, and you rip Kylo off of this man who bleeds old blood, tarnished blood, blood from his nose and face and you don’t know where else, that soaks and seeps into the wood of the porch.

“Sweetwater Police! Hands where I can see them!” There are all of a sudden too many lights in your face, too many.

“You called the fucking cops?!” Armitage shouts at you, incredulously.

“Hands where I can see them!” The cops say again, and there’s – fuck there’s ten of them, ten officers to wrangle a man and two teenagers.

But Brendol has no desire to comply, and instead of making things easy, he takes advantage of you being so far away from Kylo, and he races towards you, the bright glint of a silver knife shining, blinding you.

He has you pinned against the door, has a blade pressed to your throat, the sharp teeth of the knife slicing your skin, drawing blood, blood that Brendol leans in to lap up with his tongue, barbed like a cat’s.

“Get off of me!” You jerk your knee up, hard in the balls, again and again while his knife cuts deeper and deeper. The pain is completely eclipsed by your panic, completely consumed by terror.

“Papa get off it’s not worth it!” You hear a sobbing voice, a screaming voice, coming from just over there, just outside the ring of the porch-light. With the helicopter’s huge flood-light, now you can see, can see how poor William’s face is carved up, how his cheek is torn open, a gaping hole where you can see into his mouth even as his lips are closed. “Papa please – !”

“Kylo!” You beg, beg for your husband, and he is aided by the police is getting this man off of you.

They drag him away, wrestle him into handcuffs, and you throw yourself into Kylo’s arms.

“Come here, come here.” Kylo says, soothing, shaking, two seconds away from committing a murder himself. He turns to the cops and spits on the floor, “Get these sick fucks off our property.” He says, regarding the men.

“Oh you don’t know just how sick they are.” One of the cops says, in a way that has your eyes falling to William.

He’s been dragged up off the ground, blood gushing from his face.

“Papa please I don’t want to go to jail.” William sobs, snot and spit dripping from his nose and lips, “(Y/N), please, don’t let them take me, don’t let them – ”

You freeze.

“How do you know my name?” You ask, voice low.

“Huh?” He asks, hiccups, eyes so sad, so blue.

“How do you know my name?!” You want to crawl into Kylo’s skin, into his robe, want to be wrapped up and never let go, because how how how did he know your name?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” William doesn’t answer, doesn’t answer that, and you don’t know if that’s worse, worse than knowing.

“Don’t you say a fucking word, boy.” Brendol snarls from where they’re trying to shove him into a straight jacket, into the backseat of the cop car.

There’s so much, so many lights, sirens, cars, cops.

“We were going to kill you,” William wails, “Eat your heart. I told them not to, I told them I didn’t want to but they made me, they made me.” He cries and cries, and your stomach lurches.

“I’m going to kill you!” Brendol lunges suddenly, nearly toppling over the cops who are reaching for guns, reaching for something, you don’t know.

“Sedate him!” One of them shouts, and you realize it’s not a gun at all, but a needle, one that gets stuck right in the meat of Brendol’s thigh.

In only a few moments, the night goes from chaos to calm, with the beast knocked out.

You are still clinging to Kylo, who is clinging to you. His jaw is set, and his eyes are hard, but he is safe, and you are safe.

They load the boys into the back of a car. Armitage is silent the entire time. William can’t stop crying and shaking.

A paramedic comes over, attends to the wound on your neck, cleans it. Kylo refuses to let you out of his arms, but you are able to turn in his embrace to face the woman who tapes up gauze bandages against your throat.

“What happens now?” You ask her, not wanting to talk to the cops, “What’s going to happen to them?”

You really mean William, you’re not sure if she should be tending to you, when the kid is missing half a cheek, just a few feet away.  

“They’re all going to go away for a long time.” The paramedic says, voice soft. “SWPD’s been trying to catch these psychopaths for months, they’ve pulled this stunt three times so far and have been successful every time.” She says, and you find you don’t feel so sorry for them anymore.

A cop comes over as the cars are driven away, as the sirens grow more and more distant.

“We’re going to keep watch here all night, in case anything else happens, but for now, go inside. Get some sleep if you can.” He says, and you almost want to laugh at that, at the notion of a good night’s sleep, after what just happened, what you just saw. “We’re going to need you to fill out paperwork in the morning.”

You feel better knowing that they’ll be there all night, feel better knowing they’re locked away and being taken even farther.

Kylo wraps his arms tight around you once more, hugs your back against his chest, as you watch the helicopter follow the cop cars.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the scariest thing living here.” Kylo says finally, low in your ear.

“Could you imagine what might have happened? If we invited them to stay?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

As the wheat fields sway back and forth, back and forth in the wind, as the sirens now disappear, as the sounds of night replace the screaming, the squelching, the gnashing, he sighs.

“No.” Kylo says, “I honestly, really can’t.”

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

[raleigh-ocean]

let me in (my love is calling out for you) | audrey tindall x danielle bishop

summary: Audrey wanted to live a normal life and she thought she was in the right path to it, however, when she discovers that she’s in some kind of probation by Danielle’s daughter...well, her bits of courage just fell to the floor like broken pieces of china. In her try to handle it on her own for once, trying to maybe square up to all her fears, she fell again to the endless pit that were her insecurities. And, without knowing, she drags Danielle with her too.

words: 10,375

n/a: first of all, I want to thank @shineestark​ for being the absolute sweetheart always and let me talk her ear off each brainstorm I have. If she wasn’t there, I would’ve probably ended up deleting my blog. And second, well, this was a total mess...but I wanted to give that sensation. Not everything is nice, not everything gets a good resolution, and even when it seems it does...well, it doesn’t. The thing is...I want you all to know this is one of the first approaches I do to AudreyDanielle’s relationship, and they are troubled for sure, so take it with a bit of love, okay? They for sure are trying to be better.

Upon opening her eyes, Audrey only curled better in herself, grabbing better the quilt against her and indulging in the soft lemon, warmth and sleep scent.

The bed felt twice bigger than usual and she had a while without feeling so small, frowning slightly to the thought, but her eyes went to find her phone first thing and checked if she had a message. It only passed three more hours since Danielle had left for work, her daughter following behind like everyday, but her scent was still lingering everywhere. Comforting, without doubt, but it also awoke the little bug she had everyday messing up in her stomach.

It wasn’t a good bug, it didn’t make her want to stay put and enjoy her girlfriend’s home for a while longer; it was a bad one and it was making her want to flee. 

With care, Audrey started to finally move, pointing where Danielle had folded her clothes from yesterday and when she got them, her eyes landed in one of her girlfriend’s yarn sweaters. Will she mind? She asked herself for a second, the soft sweater in her hands...and then decided she probably won’t.

The bug was placated again when she made her way downstairs, one of her hands tugging at the too long sleeve from the sweater and bring it up to her nose. This one had Danielle’s perfume all over, almost spent from a whole day wearing it, but enough for Audrey to finally crack the second smile of the day. The first one had been when Danielle had kissed her before leaving and told her she was pretty much free to stay around, the memory fresh while she got breakfast, and Audrey truly wanted to do so...but something in her told her to just leave.

How much would she want to forget what she saw or to rewind in that moment, everything displaying in her head while looking around the empty house from the open kitchen. 

Danielle had been getting the dishwasher charged while Audrey got out from the master bedroom, freshly showered, and upon hearing her in the upper floor she had asked her if she could see if Damien got any glasses or maybe a bowl in her room, so she could get it all in one charge. Audrey had only hummed a ‘on my way’ absentmindedly and went to retrieve it. The door was ajar and she knocked, however Damien wasn’t there and she could hear her in the bathroom, and Audrey had already gained her trust enough to just jump in and out of the teenager’s room without much trouble.

The place was a mess that probably was gonna get fixed as soon Damien’s mother noticed, but Audrey navigated quickly through it to find what she was asked for. She found a couple cups over the desk and a small plate, which upon retrieving it made Audrey fix her eyes in the open notebook there. She asked herself what would Damien was studying and took a quick glance...just to find it wasn’t a school notebook.

There were scores here and there, all over both open pages, and in between the tight and messy handwriting, she caught her name. 

Oh, she really should had got out from there in that second, but the only thing Audrey did was to take the notebook in her hands and went through the pages. Most of them were dated and she went as far as around five months ago, when Danielle and her started to date formally. And...well, as much as she could see over the throbbing pain that was getting its way to behind her eyes, Damien took her sweet time to keep a record of things she had said to her.

However, it was when she got around the first month pages that she saw it. And it made her so sick to her stomach that she dropped the notebook over the desk as if it was on fire, not minding anymore about that and getting out of the room with the cups and the plate. 

She was lucky Danielle was getting something from her car when she made her way to the kitchen, because it took her a few minutes to recompose herself enough to pass her nervous demeanor as ‘I finished it from loading it, but this dishwasher have too many buttons and...well, I was waiting for you’ when Danielle finally came back with her briefcase in hands and asking why Audrey looked a bit off.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus in how Danielle had kissed her sweetly against the counter instead of how her daughter had wrote a diary’s entry in which read ‘last husband died? -10.’ in red and black marker.

Audrey’s heart skipped a beat painfully, making her open her eyes again and start to clean the countertop from anything that could be a potential bother in the next hours. Sighing deeply, she fished her phone out of her back pocket to check any unread message since she usually put her phone in night mode when she was staying over with at Danielle’s. Getting a bit comfortable on the couch, she tapped at the screen to discover a few texts from three different chats and still feeling a bit miserable, she decided to went for the big ‘family’ group chat to see in which madness they spiraled in barely a quarter of the day.

Turning on the television to have some background noise, Audrey read how Danna had managed to...bake? or more like build an impressive cake for some client that order it for a birthday lunch or something, having Ally laughing and joking that she had two breakdowns over the chocolate in six hours while Dahlia asked for the recipe and Shelby half begged to not give it to her. Danielle was nowhere to be sean in the group chat, but Dara sent some pertinent stickers here and there and Billie joked about how now her wife was making puppy eyes at her to go buy chocolate cake.

She couldn’t help to giggle, quoting the picture with a ‘amazing yeah, but I don’t see any strbers there’ and quickly changed the chat for Danielle’s, who had sent her picture of her desk already loaded with folders - which Audrey had the feeling were there since a couple days ago - and her arm in scene to show a middle finger up to said folders around the time she arrived there; another one not long ago of her with a face that totally said ‘i’m gonna kill a bitch’ while she was pushing her glasses over her head; and then a text reminding Audrey she had left coffee made for her, cup and blue heart emoji at the end. She sent her some replies, a ‘you are a blessing’ to the coffee one and some laughs at the pics while asking how was it going and if she needed to go get her from jail for throwing someone out of the window.

Knowing she wouldn’t get a reply until later, taking in count her last connection was a hour and a half ago, she got then to Billie’s chat finally, which had more messages. While she was navigating through them, mostly Billie telling her about her last three hectic days at work, Danna replied with a big ‘WELL, IF SOME PEOPLE PAYED A VISIT THERE WOULD BE’ and a cake emoji. Audrey knew soon Danielle would reply to her sister, twin sense warning her of the bickering even without looking at her phone, so she kept reading Billie with a soft smile on her lips because it felt good to have her texting back again.

When she got to the last text, the one that was asking her about how was she, she couldn’t get to reply because a sudden ring echoed through the living room, startling her. She blinked, confused, and then her eyes landed in the phone...because of course, Danielle still had landline. 

Was it maybe one of those telemarketing people? For half a second, she considered not to pick up, but maybe was something important. Or maybe was Danielle herself, who knows? Audrey missed how the screen of her cellphone lighted up with a notification from her girlfriend, but she already got the phone in hand.

“Hello?” her voice was firm, and then a tentative voice came out of the other side of the line. “Good morning, may I speak with miss Bishop? I’m her daughter’s high school principal,” that closed Audrey’s throat immediately, but she managed to reply. “She’s not at home at the moment, but I’m...her partner, did something happen? Can I help you?” and there was this tight sensation in her stomach, so tight but at the same time comforting saying out loud who she was, that her focus went directly to Damien and wonder if something may have happened. “Actually, her daughter has gotten into a fight with another girl and we needed her to come and…”

And Audrey’s mind started to work in another different timeline.

She never thought she would get to the point in which she received a call like that. Audrey gave totally up thinking about herself as a mother, but when she started dating with Danielle it came with finding her place in a closer situation. As she took her bag, throwing her phone in and her wallet with the rest of her stuff, she tried to push aside whatever displeasure she had at the moment because this was serious and she needed to get there as soon as possible.

It took her a few minutes more to find a place to park, but once she was out of the car something heavy fell over her shoulders. Should she call Danielle? Or should she handle this first and then call her? Audrey didn't know how to proceed but she got herself into this mess because she still cared about Damien's wellbeing as much as she was upset with her, so she was going to try and fix it. It was weird being in a high school but she tried to walk with the confidence of one of her old theatre roles, swifting into a different persona so she could handle this with cold mind.

When she finally got to the principal's office, the first thing Audrey noticed was a pretty beaten up Damien, lower lip split and incoming matching bruise to her cheek along some scraps here and there. Her heart shrinked to her chest and when Damien noticed she was there, something in her light brown eyes lighted but she didn't move. The other girl was there too, with which Audrey supposed were her parents looked at her not really nice, but it only made her place better behind Damien and put a comforting hand in her shoulder so at least she knew she was there.

And the second the principal started to explain the situation at hand, Audrey felt how her facade started to melt with who she really was.

Of course, when the man explained briefly what had happened, he asked both of them to explain themselves better and the other child started to give her part with as many points as she could to clearly save her own ass. Damien, broody and skippy, refused to say much more than the obvious and Audrey knew there was something more behind that attitude. So she took to her hands defending her...defending Danielle's child as if she was defending her girlfriend.

Which impressed Damien to see her mother's partner braver than the usual.

By the time they got to the car, finally safe and sound, two weeks of suspension against nothing had become one week to each and a insane load of work to do, which was middle ground if you put it by how far worse was going to be. Audrey felt exhausted, more than she wanted to admit, but after counting three she was buckling herself and pulling over to get back to the house. She didn't even bring herself to check her phone, because she felt very tempted to go and call her girlfriend to inform her.

But for some reason, she didn't, and Audrey wanted to give Damien the benefit of the doubt.

"Did you tell mamon about this…?" Damien spoke so low that Audrey was glad she didn't put music, because she may had missed it.

"No, I do not, because you are going to tell her yourself," Audrey knew she would have to do some technical remarks to Danielle, but the folder that both were trying to ignore had everything inside for the actual mother to know. "Damien, what were you thinking? What really happened?"

And somehow, her voice didn't rise a bit. Audrey was so drained in that moment, emotionally talking, that she couldn't bring herself to be an ounce mad. Damien didn't even turn around, her eyes fixed in whatever she was doing in her phone and then it was when annoyance hit her, a tad enough to snap into a more loud 'hey'.

"I know I'm not you mother but I'm trying to save your ass here, buddy," she kept driving, furrowed frown as she made a right because a tiny voice in her head reminded her there really wasn’t any food at Danielle’s house. "It takes more than a notebook to make people go for a full fight, you know? I'm not stupid."

Damien looked at Audrey then, upon hearing those exact words, and something clicked there in her brain for a second. But the blonde woman didn’t notice the sudden panic in the teen’s face, not because she was asking to explain herself but because the weird passing anxiety she had been feeling for three weeks finally settled. Audrey glanced at her from the corner of her eye and sighed deeply when Damien didn’t say a word again, pulling over in the supermarket parking lot. 

Great, another nail to her coffin.

When Damien didn’t move, Audrey knocked in the glass to get her attention. Danielle was used to let her do whatever she wanted in those daily situations, but Audrey was already riled with anxiety and the last thing she wanted was to leave Damien unattended in the car after what happened. The girl moved, in automatic, to follow Audrey closely and still without a word, while they started to travel across the different aisles. Both were moving together, making quite the pair, but never got to talk during all the time Audrey spent picking stuff to get something in their bellies once at home.

Audrey gave up on trying to get the truth out of Damien, so she only interacted with her with banal stuff that was left unresponded because the girl was too in her head, still brooding, to pay attention aside from the basic motor skills. That didn't help to ease Audrey skyrocketing anxiety, it was making it worse indeed, because each second passed proved to her that all the things she was anxious for were true.

Damien, in her side of things, decided to keep it together as much as possible. She was good at following orders, following whatever was needed of her. But she couldn't bring herself to answer Audrey, because every time she looked at her the only thing in her head was that she should talk about the diary with her.

She knew right off the bat Audrey knew about it, the second she came back to the room and asked aloud to her mother if she had been in her room in fact. 

Damien had been putting some thoughts on her diary and when she went to write again, it wasn't in the page she left it open. Danielle had said no at that time, but told her daughter that Audrey had been to retrieve some cups - which led to a five minutes reminder of why she should get dirty dishes down once she was done with them. But deep inside her, really deep, she knew Audrey knew.

Why would she started coming to the house less and less often if not? Coming late at night and be gone before breakfast the times she passed by? Not talking with Damien anymore about her worries about her mom or about some of her other worries? Danielle stopping by Audrey's loft in her way home from work more often?

She totally knew about the diary, without doubt. 

The worst of it all was having her mother asking her if maybe Audrey had said something to her, because she knew Damien and Audrey talked more since they spent more time alone together. She had to play dumb, afraid of what her reaction would be if she knew how she had a full log of having her girlfriend in probation, shrugging and overall just exchanging looks with her mother when she noticed Audrey pulling away. And then how Danielle had called everyone in their shared social circle in case someone knew something, if maybe Audrey had talked to them.

She even overheard her mother asking Audrey directly, once Damien got up to the bathroom, because they were in the couch, cuddling and watching television before going to bed. And Danielle didn't get any response aside of 'I've been a bit busy and tired, that's all Dani.' and a kiss.

Damien's growing guilt got worse as soon as she caught a glimpse of Audrey's tired expression while she was paying the groceries. 

The trip back home was a silent one and once they were there, she kept following Audrey's soft instructions while getting late lunch ready. At least she got her to stop talking altogether aside of the basics, so her guilt steadied enough to keep down the food. But for Audrey didn't seem the case, as much as she could see, because she barely touched her plate.

"I'll be out of your hair as soon as your mother comes home," Audrey said when Damien started to clear the table. "So you two can talk in private without me being around."

It felt like a well deserved stab for a fifteen years old girl, one that actually decided to call home on purpose, instead to her mother, full knowing the short haired blonde was going to be there. There was something in Audrey's words that made her stomach churn annoyingly and with the remains of the rage she felt at school hours ago. And the next thing she knew, it was her mumbling surely loud enough 'yeah, that's better than having you here watching like you always do'.

Damien was too focused in forgetting her own discomfort, washing the dishes, to see the broken expression Audrey got upon hearing her. But her own tears got to her eyes, having to blink and rub her eyes to keep them at bay, feeling like the biggest hypocrite on Earth right in that moment. 

And with all of that, Damien set off to her room afterwards, leaving Audrey to herself. Which probably was the best for the adult, because the only thing the teen did once locked in her room was to cry and cry out of guilt, out of rage, out of anxiety, out of ‘why did I have to punch Vera Cobbers’ and ‘why I can’t go back in time’. Curled in her bed, Damien tried to forget what was going to come inevitably, but as two painful hours passed...she knew her time was coming to an end.

Getting up, Damien went directly to where the diary was hidden and took it with trembling hands. What if she came clear with Audrey first and then when her mother arrived...well, let the rest of the problem blow up? The only thought of telling the blonde downstairs pushed her tears harder out of her eyes.

And then, she overheard a car outside the house and her time was up. Damien went out of her room at the sound of the car turning off, just in time to catch Audrey getting her stuff back in her bag and standing up from the couch. She didn’t move further than the rail, feeling herself stuck there as a silent spectator, but she could see the whole living room and the kitchen from where she stood.

When Danielle make it into view, her blazer and briefcase hanging from her arm, glasses still on, the guilt came to her harder than before. Her mother threw her stuff, a very unlike move coming from her, in the loveseat and, with her face lit with happiness, circled Audrey with her arms and lifted her in the air while giving her a big kiss. She couldn’t picture her mother being that happy to come home even if she tried to, but there she was, not letting go of Audrey.

“Oh god, today was awful,” Danielle’s voice was a bit muffled, her face now hidden in Audrey’s neck while Audrey hugged her by the shoulders. “I thought I was going nuts...but having you here made it definitely worth.”

Damien started to move then, slowly going downstairs and trying not make a single sound while Danielle fixed Audrey’s hair with love, giving her a soft peck to her lips. 

Then, Audrey saw Damien over Danielle’s shoulder, and all her effort to keep it together started to crumble right away. She felt the need to break the hug, now lose and soft because Danielle was just indulging in her presence after pushing her glasses up in her head, and doing so was really easy when Audrey put a hand to Danielle’s cheek and kissed her sweetly and light.

“Well, now you are home...” she chuckled a bit, catching the soft smirk in her girlfriend’s lips. “...but I have to go darling, I was just waiting for you to come home so I could welcome you.”

Seeing the soft smirk disappear as fast as it came, rushed the terrible feeling already growing and about to overflow in Audrey. Danielle took off her glasses, pulling back her hair with her hand and then putting them back, making her illegally handsome. She took her hand, lacing fingers, and looked at her with the worry again filling her eyes.

“C’mon chère,” Danielle swinged their laced hands and tugged a bit. “Stay? Please, we barely spend time together these days, is because we always have take out? I promise I’ll try and and and...cook something, whatever, even if we have to dinner at ten.”

Even with the joke laced, Audrey could hear the hurt and light panic in Danielle’s voice. But she needed to go before Damien started hating her more, and she totally didn’t want anything to do with why she had to get her from high school hours ago, enough she had done for the girl and was thrown to her face like it meant nothing.

“Take out is just fine, it’s just that I really have to go,” Damien was already a couple meters away and Danielle seemed to sense her finally. “I promise to call you later, okay? We’ll plan something for the weekend and...”

Then Audrey saw Damien start to cry, the words getting stuck in her throat right away, and her flight response ringed through her body like it was an earthquake alarm going off. The girl sprinted towards her mother and Danielle got no time to catch her daughter in her arms, her mother’s senses coming up immediately. Audrey managed to hear, between sobs, how Damien was speaking in french really fast and Danielle’s expression darkened with worry and confusion a second later.

“What? Dada, slower, what are you talking about? What diary?” if Audrey heard sweetness in Danielle’s tone, now it was all gone. “Why are you crying? Look at m-” and the second Damien looked up, incoming bruise to her cheek and split lower lip, Danielle got pale. 

It was then when Audrey stopped from hearing something at all, mumbling a quick ‘I’ll leave you two alone’ before getting the fuck out of the house. If Danielle called for her, she didn’t hear it, because her anxiety was unbearable by the time she got in her own car and drove off in the verge of the attack.

She needed to get home, now. 

Unaware of her best friend’s whereabouts for the whole day, Billie worried. 

Obviously she would worry, Audrey was always excited and chatty when Billie texted her after days of work away, already planning when they would meet up the second the medium got all the stress out of her system. But Audrey had left her on read, maybe she was busy today, and then she got busy with laundry and cleaning the kitchen because Dara had asked her before having to rush out of the house because of work.

To the time Dara came back, Billie was fast asleep in their bed because jet-lag kicked her like a bitch, and then she didn’t have time to think about Audrey a bit more because upon opening her eyes, her now wife was fresh out of the shower only covered with her flowery silk robe, hair wrapped in a towel and phone in hand. Billie couldn’t keep herself from catching Dara by her middle, making her cutely yelp, to get her in her lap to finally enjoy what she missed for those too fucking long shooting days.

Billie’s phone was in the kitchen counter, so none of them hear it when it started to ring, but when Dara’s phone started to vibrate somewhere in the bed, lost between sheets and their bodies, and Billie started to try reach for it while kissing and devouring each other.

“Annie, your pho-Oh fuck, biting? M-move your leg,” Billie laugh ringed when Dara, under her, started to give her actual love bites while moving her leg as she was asked to. Blindly, Billie took advantage of that to make Dara circle her waist with said leg and then her hand felt the bed in search for the phone. “That’s so, so...you are going to be the death of me, I swear,” Billie finally got the device, eyes closed because now Dara was sucking on her pulse point, but picking up the same. “G-good evening, miss Lynch can’t come on the p-phone right n-”

It was then when Billie heard Audrey panicked voice coming out of the speaker in such shocking way that it made her freeze on the spot and open her eyes, alert in a matter of seconds. 

“Audrey, hey, Audrey listen to me,” and then Dara was alert too, confused look in her eyes and hands resting in Billie’s hips. “Breathe in, breathe out. Can you make it upstairs? Pumpkin, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” then Billie was off her wife in a beat, rolling in bed to go to her side and start putting the nearest shoes she had. She turned around to look at Dara and she was just getting dressed at light speed, already a leg in some sweatpants. “I’ll be there in…” Dara, serious face on, whispered ‘ten’ before pulling a shirt over her bare torso and the same flowery robe on top. “Ten minutes; if you can’t get home, sit in the stairs and wait there, okay? Okay,” Billie felt out of air, head spinning with the alarm and the last bits of arousal hanging to her lungs, but she started to move behind Dara towards the door the same. “Sweetheart, everything is going to be okay, I’m on my way.”

The only thing she got clear was that Audrey was having a panic attack and that Dara was driving too fast for someone wearing slippers. But she didn’t care about anything in else in that moment, pulling her hair into a ponytail and then holding Dara’s purse along their phones to keep her hands occupied. She felt a tingly sensation against the skin she hadn’t covered, as if something was trying to get into her, but Billie closed her eyes and pushed against it before looking at how composed was her wife while driving.

Without make-up on, Dara looked younger, yes, but more tired, worry lines in her soft sweet face. When was the last time she had looked like that? Was she sleeping well those days? What was worrying her?

But all those questions were pushed back when they pulled over in front of Audrey’s building and practically ran with their friend in mind. Billie was the first one to arrive, taking in count Dara was hobbling behind her, without her cane to support her fully she couldn’t run or walk without feeling unsteady with every step. By the time Dara got to the loft, Billie had Audrey wrapped in her arms, both sitting in the floor while the oldest of them was caressing the other’s back to calm her down. The medium was listening to the broken and confusing mess that was Audrey in that moment, and in between she was starting to make sense out of it.

It wasn’t good that Audrey was feeling again like that, like she was a waste of space and time. Like she had the weight of the whole world on her shoulders and as if the whole world was watching her about to drop it all, make a mess and laugh at her.

“...Billie?” and her sobs were so heartbreaking that twisted something inside Billie, who was pressing soft kisses to Audrey’s head taking advantage that she was now hiding in her neck and had Dara kneeling by them, brushing with care Audrey’s short hair out of her face. “D-did Rory died b-because of m-me…?”

The couple shared a surprised look and then they both felt something in the back of their neck, pocking at them for attention. From where was that coming from? Not the sensation, but Audrey’s question, which left them speechless for a minute.

“Wh-Audrey, no,” something in Billie flared up, something long buried after four years, and she made Audrey look at her in the eyes. “Absolutely no, Rory didn’t die because of you. I watched those tapes with you, I was there when they made you go through the stupid tapes and it totally wasn’t your fault in any possible way.” And Billie wanted to say ‘and I heard him saying it, from the good side, so it could reach to you better’ too so bad, but refrained herself.

“You weren’t at fault, Drey, you totally weren’t,” Dara mumbled that, pressing a kiss behind Audrey’s ear sweetly to ease her more, her arms wrapping both blondes in a hug. “What made you think about that again…? Did someone said something to you? A weirdo on the internet?"

From all the things Billie thought that could’ve trigger such deep and dark part of Audrey, she totally didn’t expect that at all. 

The second Audrey started to explain what had been happening the last three weeks, how she had been trying to deal with everything in her own, to be brave and try to handle things as if she could overcome them alone...well, it made Billie's brain to stop working. Not only she couldn't wrap her head around Audrey's behaviour, she couldn't wrap her head at how Danielle was so blind to not see something was going on right under her nose. And what had happened during the day? Well, that was another thing to the pile of problems. And the diary? Oh God help her, that put the cherry on top of it all. 

A cherry full of her own rage, waiting for her to take it and unleash its power.

When they managed to calm the actress down enough, sitting her in the couch and lighting up a cigarette for her - Dara took the package from the car before running behind her wife and was the one putting it between her lips to give it back to Audrey already lit -, Billie tried to calm down too, lighting another cigarette for herself.

"Let's calm down first and then we'll see what to do about this, okay?" Dara pressed her fingers to the back of her neck. "I'm sure there have to be a full explanation for this."

But it wasn't the nicotine what was helping her relax, it was that tickling sensation in her skin again. Her eyes went to Dara, trying to wrap Audrey in a blanket because she was trembling, and she knew it was her presence what was really helping ease the knot in her head. And maybe that was what actually made Billie finally snap.

"No Dara, stop."

"Stop what?" Audrey looked at Billie and then at Dara, who was frowning with confusion. And she was pretty sure the tallest woman was confused more about hearing her first name than the order.

"This, whatever you are doing right now," Billie pushed again against the sensation, her rage growing, and Dara stood up in front of her, arms crossed under her chest and reminding Billie what she was not wearing under. "I know they are your family, and that you will defend them always, but this got to another level. What your niece did was plainly mean and stupid, and sorry, but the last thing Audrey needs right now is being reminded of all this." then Billie pointed with her hand to Audrey, trying to wipe her face with her sweater's sleeve. "Look at what happened! Audrey worked hard to get some kind of normalcy and now it was thrown out of the window."

Dara couldn't say a word to that. She didn't have enough strength to bring herself to reply, so she only let Billie calm down after getting that out of her system. Her leg was cramping as they were speaking, strained from the sudden movement plus the whole day walking here and there at work, and she needed to take a seat but she didn't want to seat in the couch, where Billie was now comforting Audrey.

She had listened through the whole problem, trying to keep her cool and think for a solution instead of pointing fingers, and unfortunately everyone was at fault in some way... except maybe Danielle. 

Danielle that, for sure, the worst thing she did in this scenario was to not keep pushing for some kind of response to why her girlfriend was acting weirdly.

Of course Damien was...stupid for writing a full log about her mother's girlfriend, it was such a teenager thing to do? But that didn't take the fault away at all, because she was plainly cruel...and well, Audrey only showed her niece that she could trust in her and that she wanted the best for Danielle.

But also Audrey should have told Danielle what was going on instead of bottling it up. It was meant to explode, sooner or later, and maybe Dara could blame it to the new of their relationship but that miscommunication wasn't a mere 'oops, I forgot the oven on'. Dara knew from where Audrey was coming from, all the trauma and the dark thoughts and the days of not seeing an end to her depression, because she had been there by her side, however that didn't give her a free pass to do as she pleased.

And Billie...well, how could she tell her wife all of that without having her at her neck? She knew how protective Billie was of Audrey, it was one of her weak spots, so even if she helped in the 'get Danielle and Audrey together' intervention plan, it was obvious which side was she gonna get in when problems happened.

"Call her," Billie's sudden strong voice brought Dara back to Earth, who was brushing her still a bit wet hair back with both hands. "Call your cousin right now."

"Honey, I don't think…"

"You don't think what, that she can't handle being told to put her kid in place!?" and there was this edge in Billie's voice that Dara didn't like at all, the snarky tone. Sometimes you didn't need to be screaming on top of your lungs to make others to recoil and feel bad. "Put her on speaker, I'm done with this foolery."

Sighing deeply, Dara walked towards where Billie had left their stuff. It strained her more, hiding the discomfort of not having her cane with her, and once she got her phone in her hands she made the few steps to the couch slower. She gave up already in trying to make Billie be rational for once, so if she wanted to face a probably enraged Danielle...well, she was on her own.

After a few tones, Danielle's voice came out. Her own tone was thick and with an accent mixed deeply in her words. Dara herself knew when someone was switching languages, used to that after years and years.

"Dal, can I call you later?" Dara felt the tiredness in her cousin's voice, laced with something more. She caught Audrey looking up at her, the hurt in her eyes."This isn't really a good time."

"Of course it is!" Billie snatched the phone from Dara's hand and frowned, gripping it tightly. "Listen here, you better give your kid an earful or I'll d-"

Dara didn't expect, not even in a hundred years, for someone to be able to cut Billie's speech in such violent manner. If Audrey had recovered some color in the last minutes, she lost it upon listening to Danielle's enraged voice. 

"What do you think I'm doing, Howard!?" Dara even held her next breathing. "For fuck's sake, don't ever tell me what I have to do or not, because I do know it very well," they three could hear how Danielle took a deep breath before keep on speaking. "I know you are with her, so please, take care of Audrey. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Dara didn't expect either to hear someone hanging up on Billie.

Thick tears started to run down Audrey's cheeks again and then Billie left Dara's phone in the coffee table, taking her friend's hand in her free one to reassure her that everything would be alright. For Dara, it only meant that she wanted to get herself busy with whatever so she didn't have to think in this mess that was giving her a headache already.

So she decided to make some tea, full knowing they would need it. Her mother always said tea was the best choice to calm people's nerves. So she got for herself that task, not wanting to face her friend nor her wife in that moment. Dara took her time to put the kettle - because Audrey of course had one, could she get more british? - in the stove and search for some tea bags - fuck it, she was going full fake posh, water heated with a kettle but teabags to accompany.

When she was done with that, Audrey and Billie had moved to the balcony to smoke, so she only left their cups in the counter and got herself a corner of the kitchen to silently sip to her own cup.

Was she selfish for wanting to have a day in peace? The only thing she had wanted from the second Billie got home from filming around midday was to spend the day the two of them alone. But not only she had to go in her day off to work anyway, but all this had happened. 

Now the least thing she wanted was to go back to what was interrupted. That was a missed chance already, and well, to be completely honest, it wasn't like Billie was going to sleep that night in their bed. If she wanted to be irrational and mean when the only thing Dara wanted was to calm things down, well, the couch was welcoming her already.

She couldn't even bring herself to look at Billie once they were inside again, no more tears in sight and their teas mild at this point. Dara had served herself her second cup of tea by the time the front door opened, her eyes immediately going there while she saw Billie standing up from the couch again.

"Dani," Dara wanted to go hug her cousin, getting herself one of those awkward side hugs the woman gave, but she stayed where she was when her eyes went to her niece, seeing how bad the high school fight actually got. "Oh wow, I hope the oth-"

She cut herself from keep talking when Danielle raised her hand, to stop her from finish what she was saying. Now that she could actually look at her, Dani didn't even got time to change clothes and, wearing heels, she was even taller and scarier with her work looks, her face not showing much emotion but her eyes had a troubled glint, all hidden behind her glasses. Then she looked at her daughter, barely a glance, and then Damien stepped forward to talk to Audrey, as if she knew what she had to do the moment they put a foot in the apartment.

"I'm sorry Audrey," Damien's voice was clear, a bit congested because of the crying - her puffy red eyes giving it away -, but clear enough for all of them to hear it. "I...I didn't have to do that and I had to talk to you about it, but I was a coward. I had to tell mamon what was happening to you," she sniffed a bit and Audrey was looking up to her, tired expression in her face. "I was an asshole. You only wanted to be nice…" then Damien looked briefly to Danielle, who was crossing her arms under her chest. "Thank you, for picking me up from school and help me there...I may have suspension for a week, but boss grounded me to eternity...” And her tiny giggle managed to ease the tension in the living room somehow, ever so soft. “...do you hate me now…?”

“Ah...no, I don’t hate you Damien,” Dara saw how Audrey stood up so she could talk to Damien better, her hands trying to find somewhere to land...somewhere that was Damien’s shoulders. “But I’m upset with you, because...well, I was only trying to get on well with you, I’m not your enemy. And things you wrote there...well, were actually true...for me, at least, in my head.”

“Okay,” her voice so tiny, Dara knew her niece was about to cry again and that for sure would make Audrey cry. Billie only seemed about to pop a vessel and Danielle shifted in her spot. Her own throbbing headache starting to get annoying. “I k-know...even when you make me try those green smoothies. That’s kinda evil though.”

That earned a tired laugh from Audrey but then she just leant to hug Damien, who clinged to her as if her life depended on it. Dara couldn’t hear what her niece mumbled to her friend, making her to look at Danielle for a second before whispering what could be ‘I won’t darling, don’t worry’ and letting go of the hug. And Dara thought that was the best time to finally made their leave.

“Why don’t you stay at home with us tonight, dear?” Her voice went out calm in spite of feeling how her head was about to crack in two and Danielle finally looked at her, nodding and giving her permission right away. “I think it’s for the best, I promise I will totally not order italian and make you eat bland spaguetti with tuna, which I’m the best at cooking it.” She chuckled when Damien put a disgusted face before looking between the other three women. “You three do your thing.”

Dara hid how bad was actually her limp right in that moment by flickering her fingers, making Damien go with her and use her as support. It was then when Billie reacted, her attention finally drifting from Audrey to her wife again while she was taking Danielle’s car and house keys from her hand. Billie’s keys were in the counter, where she had left them when they arrived, and Damien took her purse for her. Dara knew for a fact Billie was staying.

She was done with this for today.

Now the plan in her head drifted to take Damien to her house to take a change of clothes and then drive to their apartment with Danielle’s car. She was about to leave when she heard someone walking towards her and then Billie was taking her hand in hers. They were away from Audrey and Danielle’s eyes, thanks to the entrance wall, and Dara gestured Damien to go ahead and wait in the car.

“Annie,” it warmed Dara’s heart to hear Billie call her like that again, with a more relaxed tone. She raised then her hand to press it to Dara’s cheek and then she pressed a kiss to her lips, tiny and warm. “I’m sorry...for yelling at you, I lost my temper there.”

“Oh, I know you’re sorry Bills,” Dara smiled tiredly to Billie and then went to caress her cheek, giving her a couple pats before kissing her in the corner of her lips and turning around to leave. “Still, the couch will be waiting for you tonight.”

When Danielle heard the front door closing, the weight in her shoulders eased a bit. Her eyes went to Audrey, trying to find the right words to say to her. She wanted to do this right, she wanted Audrey to see she could trust in her with whatever instead of bottling things up. What Damien wrote in that...notebook, was still very much wrong and not only she betrayed Audrey’s trust but Danielle felt the betrayal too coming from too many directions.

Since when her daughter started to hide things from her? Since when her girlfriend decided to hide this from her?

But there she was, getting a scold? from the only person in this world she didn’t want to have there. Billie had came back to the living room, her face totally giving away all the pent up anger she had been holding, and then started the biggest rant against her. Everything she was saying, Danielle could see it; her worry for Audrey, to not let something bad happen to her again...everything Danielle also wanted. 

The day she had entered into this relationship, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy mostly because Audrey and her had this enormous bag in their backs. And she understood when things got rough, understood that both needed time to get back on their tracks, but somewhere along all of this...she felt that she got lost.

Audrey, in that exact moment, couldn’t take her eyes off her girlfriend. Billie was going full rant without getting any reply, but Audrey could see how Danielle was tightening her fists each second passing and then...it was like someone turned up the volume.

“...so tell me, Bishop, what are you going to do now, mhm?” Billie’s neck was red and her eyes full of something Audrey didn’t see before. “Stand there in silence while she’s suffering?”

There was a change in Danielle, enough to make her look at Audrey before facing the other blonde. She wasn’t going to lie and say she wasn’t afraid of what her girlfriend was going to say next, indeed, Audrey was pretty much afraid of her opinion. Danielle was always the one taking the realistic side of things, to have twenty plans before the situations collided, to hold everything inside because she was used to being in charge, and also to be the part bringing everyone back to Earth if they started to wander too much.

But who was strong enough to bring Danielle back when she was the one wandering too much?

“I wouldn’t be here if I was going to do that,” her voice wasn’t even wavering, steady and in control, which made it even scarier. “I wouldn’t have put my kid in place the second everything was thrown at me; I wouldn’t have put Audrey, our relationship, over everything else.” Her hand finally moved from being a fist and gestured toward her. “I put everything I have in me to make us work, that’s why I’m here to fix this and overcome it together...because I fucking care about Audrey and, flash news, about us.”

The emphasis in ‘together’ was hard enough to make Billie flinch, but she didn’t recoil a bit. However, it was time for Audrey to actually do what she failed in: trying to fix things on her own. She shook her head for a moment, closed her eyes and put both hands covering her face. The softest ‘god, I just want to be normal like before…’ before gathering all her thoughts left her lips and she didn’t notice how it affected to the other two women. But she now had her thoughts sorted out enough to finally do something with them.

“I wanted to handle this by myself, be brave and stop hiding behind everyone,” Billie looked away upon hearing those words. “I thought I was doing it but...well, it seems it wasn’t like that.”

“You’re the bravest here already Audrey, but all I want is for you to know you can rely on me to handle things. Not alone, but hand in hand. If I have to put out relationship over everything else right now, I’m going to do it and show you that I care.”

That burnt anything Audrey was about to say, the edge in Danielle’s voice taking her by surprise because she knew she was being completely serious here. It shocked her to hear something like that coming from Danielle’s mouth, and Billie seemed to notice because Audrey saw her getting close to check on her. Danielle sighed deeply then when no response came from her girlfriend, and then put up her hands and then together.

“Look, I can leave and come back tomorrow if you need space,” oh, Audrey’s fear started to go up, because she didn’t want Danielle to go. “But I couldn’t let you go without hearing that...that I love you, more than you think and of course over anything that will come our way.” She was being sincere, her eyes always locked with Audrey’s. “Just tell me what you want me to do right now.”

It wasn’t fair not how things worked, Audrey didn’t want Danielle to put their relationship over everything else, she only wanted to be able to be together without having to fall into the pit of insecurities she still had inside. Audrey felt herself soften, letting go of Billie’s hand to hold herself better. Hearing those three sweet words coming from Danielle’s lips was a total blessing, something good for a change.

“I don’t want you to go, I want you to stay and be able to talk...the two of us alone,” then her eyes went to Billie, still by her side and waiting for her to tell her what to do too, knowing her time there was about to end for the day. “And I need another cigarette, for sure, but all I want is to go to bed knowing we’ll be able to have lunch tomorrow like we always do,” then her eyes went to look first to Danielle and then to Billie. “Am I clear?”

Audrey saw how Billie was looking at her and then...she nodded. Danielle did the same, refusing to look anywhere but where they were standing, with something darkening her features. Sometimes the problem with her was that she was too hard to crack, to understand and know what was she feeling...but Audrey was hoping to fix that soon.

“Fine,” it was her turn to sigh painfully deep, walking to get the pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. “Then everything is settled.”

The only thing Billie did was to follow Audrey to the balcony and sharing another cigarette, while finally calming down.

Danielle took advantage of that to slip away to the bathroom, not being able to hold everything anymore. Once she had the door closed behind her back, the facade cracked and fell enough for her to slide down the door and cover her face with both hands. 

For sure she couldn’t cry, she couldn’t since several months ago, but letting out those ragged breathings do help to calm herself down. She wanted to blame everything to someone, but the face that lit up in the crowd as the culprit was only hers. Her own fears rising like this giant tsunami waiting for her weakest and most down time to strike, Danielle closed her eyes to blind herself and not see the incoming doom. 

Taking deep breaths always worked, she told herself, so that’s what she did. Danielle took off her heels after too many hours with them on, focusing in calming herself and standing up again. Taking off her glasses, pushing them up to her head once again, she opened the tap counting how many deep breaths it took her to do the task. Once her hands were clean, she looked at her reflection and started to push everything back in.

Pushing her own fear of failure, of not being enough, of not being able to be supportive as Billie was of Audrey, of not being strong enough. And when she looked again in the mirror, all of that was gone and her usual tired expression looked back at her.

When she managed to get out of the bathroom, it surprised Danielle to be face by Billie, finishing off her cigarette there. She prayed that the blonde didn’t notice her breakdown, quietly waiting in case she had something to say. She wasn’t going to say anything, mostly because usually Danielle didn’t know how to talk with her cousin’s wife, and most of the time was the other woman to start the conversation.

“I left my pack by the microwave, in case she needs another,” Billie raised her own cigarette to put some more emphasis to it and then she got silent for a few seconds more. “Look...I like you, Danielle, I truly do. But I can’t help to worry about Audrey, because I saw what she has gone through and I want her to be happy.” And Danielle could understand that for sure, she was the last one to arrive in this and she knew only the tip of the iceberg. Billie sighed then, seeing that Danielle wasn’t going to say anything, to put her last words to this. “When we got here, Audrey asked me if Rory died because of her. Annie and I told her it wasn’t like that, obviously, but...I think it’s important that you know. She’s still very sensitive of that after four years.”

And then, in the most unexpected move that day, Billie hugged her. It was awkward, oh god, so damn awkward because both were the type of not giving hugs but Danielle tried to circle her, patting her back even.

“Take care of her, Canada,” Billie sighed then and looked at Danielle with somewhat a pained expression. “One more thing...do you think I’m fucked? How much?”

“I don’t think, I know you are,” and that made Billie chuckle, the tension between them easing a bit. “How much depends in what you did, my cousin doesn’t like being yelled at...so as her lawyer, I’m betting for three days couch arrest sentence, if not more.”

With that, Billie was gone, but Danielle couldn’t help but stay there for a few seconds more, indulging in the brief joking moment to get some strength to face Audrey on her own. The corridor seemed longer than it was that day, and when she finally got to the living room Audrey was with her back facing Danielle, both hands in the counter and head hanging a bit.

Danielle knew sometimes they had to sacrifice for each other, and this time it was hers to do so. 

So she went to hug the woman she loved, taking her by surprise, but not letting her go. Danielle closed her eyes, feeling better just by holding Audrey between her arms, and then she finally talked.

“I’m sorry, I love you,” she had too much time without feeling herself be vulnerable but there she was. Too many ‘I love you’s was more of a Danna or Dara thing to do, but she had to reach Audrey and make her see that it was the new reality. “I’ve been so worried with work that I couldn’t keep up with you two, I should have asked more, worried more about you and Damien; and I know is not excuse, but...I’m sorry Drey, I really am. It’s my fault.”

Feeling how Audrey was turning around in her arms, Danielle let her do as she pleased and then she was facing her. Audrey took her hands in hers, squeezing them with care and giving her a kiss to her knuckles.

“You didn’t do anything wrong love,” there was something in Audrey’s voice she couldn’t pick. “I...I was the one pulling away, I should have been braver and tell you,” Danielle could feel how her hands were cold and trembling a bit. “I love you too, Dani, a whole lot indeed...it’s just that I wanted to prove I wasn’t a bother to you.”

“Not in a million years, not even if you tried,” Danielle let out a soft laugh and then look down for a second, gathering her next words. “I...I want you to feel at home with me, because I feel at home with you, and I know it’s hard to tell things, heck that I know that pretty well...but I need you to tell me when something is wrong so we can fix it, so I can fix it…” a light new squeeze to her hands. “From now on...will you tell me? Please?”

Audrey bit her lip, lacing their fingers together to hold Danielle’s hands better. She knew well when people was taking their time to get a proper answer, her job was actually taking in consideration when and how people did that before tracing a new plan of action. Danielle was almost expecting Audrey to give her a white lie...but it wasn’t the case.

“Okay...okay. I’m not sure if I’ll always be able to, however,” there was sincerity in showing in Audrey’s whole demeanour. She was being truthful with what she was saying. “But I’ll try.”

That was enough for Danielle, because sometimes coming from her would be like that until she was able to let her own fears go. Audrey nodded then and she let go of Dani’s hands to go and hug her, finally indulging in the warmth she craved and loved, hiding her face in the hollow of Dani’s neck with her eyes closed. And having her like that, made Danielle feel full again, soothing the overwhelming uneasiness that was shaking her whole. 

“You know? I already feel at home with you, you don’t need to stress much about that...”

How can a single whisper make someone so happy? That was what Danielle thought upon hearing that coming from Audrey, wrapping her more tightly in her arms and giving her all the kisses she wanted to give her during all day. She didn’t care anymore about their problems, at least for the rest of the day, and for those hours she tried not to think much.

Obviously Danielle called Dara to check on Damien, because as much as she was upset herself with what she did, she still loved her daughter very much and that wouldn’t change for nothing in the world. She had to figure out how to balance everything and let her know that she was still there for her, which Danielle made it very clear when she had known all the chaos that had ensued.

But for that night...well, Danielle tried to get some fresh air.

Audrey didn’t bring up the whole thing the rest of the night, they focused in enjoying each other company. Which was nice, because Danielle didn’t want to keep thinking about it. They laughed when their dinner burnt and had to order pizza, they kissed and watched television for a while; and when it was actually time for them to go to bed...well, Audrey realized something.

“Dani, did you bring a change of clothes?”

“Ahm…” the woman blinked for a few seconds in confusion, caught off guard. “Well, you have my sweater if that counts as a change of clothes.”

And that made Audrey start to laugh, genuine and pure laugh, because that was something unlike Danielle. To not have something planned, to just go with the flow, and when Audrey had to search for some sweatpants for her to change, well, more laughs were there.

There was something charming in how Audrey’s sweatpants did fit Danielle, but the length was hilarious. For once she felt good lending her girlfriend some clothes, and she felt even better when Danielle got in bed by her side and opened her arms to cuddle her.

For sure that was something to celebrate, but Audrey knew all the effort Danielle was doing to make her feel loved and comfortable. So the only thing she did was to go get cuddled, giving kisses as little ‘thank you’s and basically let herself start to be loved again.

But there was a little something bugging her, a little something that was the real culprit of this whole mess they had to face.

“Danielle…?” Dani was half asleep already, but hummed in response to let Audrey know she was listening. “What happened to the diary?”

It took a few seconds for Danielle to reply, the memory of having the notebook in her hands. Notebook that she didn’t dare to open and decided destroy with the paper shredder right away. If she had to know something, she wanted Audrey to tell her because she trusted in her.

“It’s gone Drey. Don’t care about that anymore.”

[weepylucifer]

Let’s Go in the Garden - Ch. 3

Peter wants validation, David wants his boyfriend and Nightingale probably just wants a drink at this point.

I felt weird just leaving that situation as it was and going off to Bev’s, but there didn’t seem to be anything else for me to do, and it was nearing evening, and I did confirm I was going to be there for dinner. Besides, if anything else weird happened, I was sure Molly could hold down the fort.

I told Beverley the whole story, and she was... well, she was entertained, I guess, but I could tell something was bothering her. I sat down with her on the couch, tucked her feet into my lap and started to rub her ankles - she didn’t deal with much in the way of morning sickness, and she wasn’t showing yet, but apparently her feet were swelling like mad and it drove her to distraction - but that didn’t seem to be it.

“There’s two of them now,” she said when I asked. “That’s weird. We only ever dealt with Nightingale, and he was the only one left, and it was okay, and you’re fine, but...”

“Hey, thanks,” I said.

“You know what I mean. You’re not like the Nightingale, and you know I mean that as a compliment. But this other guy, his boyfriend or whatever... he’s going to be very Old Folly, isn’t he?”

I thought that over. I tried to remember what I’d been told about Mellenby before, the few scraps I’d gotten in passing from Nightingale and Hugh Oswald, and how that measured up against my first impression of him. It was inconclusive; there was just very little information. “Can’t tell yet.”

Beverley rested her head on my chest. “Ty won’t be too happy.”

I kept my thoughts on that to myself.

-----

I was woken in the morning by my phone ringing. Bev turned over in bed with an annoyed grumble and swatted her hand in my direction in an entreaty to do something about the noise, so I picked it up. It was the Folly - not Nightingale, who had recently taken to actually using his cellphone for convenience’s sake, but the Folly’s landline. This got me slightly worried, so I answered it.

“Yeah?”

I was treated to complete silence on the other end. There wasn’t even the sound of breath, or if there was, it was very quiet.

My worry mounted, because why would anyone pick up the Folly’s ancient bakelite phone, dial my number and then stand there in silence? Who did that sort of thing?

Then I tried, “Molly?”

There was a small scraping sound, like someone was tapping a fingernail against the receiver.

“Molly, what’s up?”

Tap, tap. If she was trying to morse her concerns, she wasn’t doing a great job.

Beverley had woken up properly by now, and peeked out from under the blanket giving me a look of confusion.

“Do you want me to... should I come over?”

Tap, tap. Tap. It seemed to grow in urgency.

“What’s happening, have they burnt the house down?”

Scratch. Scratch.

“I’ll be on my way... I guess.”

-----

The Folly was still standing when I arrived there, but something was very much amiss. Foxglove was waiting for me by the back door, and she gave me a silent, deeply troubled look that boded ill as she gestured for me to go upstairs. I headed for the breakfast room - surely Molly would have prepared a whole spread, and I hadn’t eaten anything yet, and I reckoned I was sure to run into Nightingale there.

The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

Mellenby’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face blotchy. Apart from that, he cleaned up pretty well, I noted: cleaned and parted at the side, his hair was curly, surprisingly so for a white guy. He was wearing a rather ancient dark blue suit that he’d probably left behind here before going off to war and all the rest; many rooms within the Folly had simply been sealed off with their former owners’ possessions all still inside, as if they might come back and use them again. That suit hung a little loosely on him; I suspected he’d lost weight in the war and never gained it back, having spent the last seventy-odd years in a magical stasis. He was tucking into his breakfast with good appetite, but sneaking furtive glances at Nightingale. Nightingale was staring resolutely in the opposite direction. Molly was serving them coffee in the most passive-aggressive manner I had ever seen her serve anything, and I’ve been on the receiving end of Molly’s ire a couple times.

It’s not my relationship drama, I decided. No need to get involved. I simply plonked myself down across from them and grabbed a piece of toast. “Morning.”

“Ah.” Nightingale looked up in a masterful imitation of someone just now noticing the other people in the room with them. “Good morning, Peter. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t pass up Molly’s breakfast, sir.” Just then, Molly happened to swish by behind him, so I gave her a grin. She repaid me with an arched eyebrow and a perfectly normal cup of hot coffee for my trouble. It felt sort of good to be the only one present on Molly’s good side for once, especially as Mellenby winced after one sip of his coffee and even Nightingale frowned after trying it.

“Very mature, Molly,” he said. “What even did I do?”

Molly glared at him, and then towards the carpet covering most of the floor.

“Oh, really? Because I burnt one tiny hole into the Axminster? No one but us ever sees that rug.”

“Molly probably puts a lot of work into maintaining the carpets,” Mellenby said quietly. “Especially since there’s no other staff here now. Let’s try not to drag her into this.”

Nightingale picked up the Telegraph and rustled it pointedly. “Oh, now he’s the gentleman.”

Mellenby’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Thomas?”

“Can any of you pass the scrambled eggs?” I asked, still not getting involved.

Their hands bumped together as they both tried to reach for the plate first. (I steadfastly refused to roll my eyes.) Mellenby’s cuff hiked up a bit and I could catch a glimpse at a kind of cast-iron wristlet he now wore. I’d seen this before on Varvara. Did this technology really come from the Nazis?

He must have seen me looking, because he fiddled with it. “...Just wish you’d take this off me, is all,” he said sullenly.

“Not until the lab results are in.” Feigning perfect calm with only middling success, Nightingale picked up his pen and turned to the crossword. He took another sip of his coffee and for a second looked like he’d bitten on a lemon.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, looking up from my eggs. “What is Molly pissed about, sir?”

“It’s nothing,” Nightingale said. “Events... may have transpired and I might have dropped some ash off a cigarette and lightly singed the carpet in the reading room last night, is all.”

I risked a half-grin. “Events?”

He shot me a look communicating he had seen and interpreted my facial expression and just so’s I knew, he resented the implication.

“There was a... somewhat heated discussion,” Mellenby cut in. (Meaning they’d been fighting rather than fucking.)

“Heated is not quite the word I’d use,” Nightingale said.

“Not quite? Thomas, it’s a miracle your voice isn’t hoarse this morning.”

“Enough of that.” Nightingale tapped his pen against the newspaper - he still hadn’t gotten started on the crossword yet. “Peter, when you’re done I’d like you to head downstairs and get some practice in while we wait for Abdul to call.”

I nodded and hummed something affirmative around a mouthful of food. Across the table, Mellenby’s face lit up.

“Oh, may I be of assistance?” he asked. “I always wanted-”

“No.” Nightingale lowered the paper. “I would rather read your exhaustive treatise on quantum theory - or whatever it was called - again than permit you to interfere with Peter’s studies in any manner.”

There was a second of quiet as we all digested that statement. Even Molly, who had been about to leave the room with some of the empty plates, stopped and stood in apprehension of what was to come, her shoulders rigid and drawn up almost to her ears.

Then Mellenby muttered, “I thought you liked that study.”

At last, Nightingale began filling in his bloody crossword. “No, it was dead boring.”

“It was my life’s work anyhow,” Mellenby said quietly. “Even if you never understood it.”

“And we both know where your life’s work led us.” Nightingale tossed the paper down onto the tabletop, where it landed with a thwack. “Your dangerous nonsense must not be encouraged, and I will especially not allow it to distract Peter.”

I wasn’t really loving being discussed in such a way, like I wasn’t right there at the breakfast table with them. It felt like being five again. But honestly, I would only get mad about that later. Right that moment, I was way too busy staring at them in rapt attention as they argued.

“Please, Thomas, don’t!” Mellenby got out of his seat looking hurt, looking slighted, and I knew he was going to cry again. “How can you say these things! You never used to... what happened to you? What happened to the man I fell in love with?”

I genuinely couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Reader, holy fuck.

Nightingale also rose to his feet. “That was a hundred years ago, David. A lot has happened since then, some of which you even had the good grace to be present for. I was in a war, for starters, you might remember it.”

“Oh, I might remember it?” Up to this point, Mellenby had seemed soft, and sad, and apologetic. Now I could see he was getting peeved. “I came home from said war three weeks ago, and I slept for a while, and now here you are telling me a new century has dawned. I did not experience the eighty years since then, I have not had the luxury of time to heal all wounds.”

Nightingale’s eyes widened. His fist met the table, making me flinch and all the dishes rattle. “The luxury?” he asked. “The fucking luxury?!”

I had never heard him raise his voice like that outside of active combat. It broadsided me, but not as much as the f-bomb.

I got up and quickly downed the rest of my normal coffee, even if it was too hot and I singed by tongue a little. “I’ll be at the firing range, yeah? If you need me.” Then I made my escape, right past Molly, whom I tried to give a supportive and encouraging smile. I don’t think they heard me at all. I was halfway down the hallway when the first china dish shattered.

-----

Nightingale joined me at the firing range later, as I was just getting done chucking a few fireballs at my least favorite target. I don’t mean to brag, but I was pretty happy with how they were coming along in terms of speed and strength. Against a tank, my chances were probably still slim, but I was certain I was getting there. When I say ‘joined me’ I mean I ducked aside as Nightingale pulverized a few targets with uncharacteristic aggression. Soon we’d have to get new ones again.

“You’re making progress,” he said, and internally I preened a bit at the rare compliment.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied in a sufficiently casual and manly voice. “You just got done breaking dishes up there?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to break a cup. I’ll have to apologize to Molly later, and about the carpet as well while I’m at it. He’s right, we shouldn’t drag her into this, she’s done more than enough for us.”

I didn’t have to ask who he was. “Is it... wrong that I kind of do want to talk to him about his quantum theories?”

Nightingale gave me an impressive scowl. “When your apprenticeship ends,” he said, “you’re free to experiment in any way you see fit, even, I suppose, with David’s nonsense. But as long as I have a say in it, I would encourage you to master the correct use of the formae before you go on tweaking them and utilizing them for all sorts of frivolities. We must become familiar with the function of a thing before we can take it apart. Even David always used to hold to that.”

I nodded. I hadn’t really been expecting much else. “But what if he knows something that would be immediately useful? In a tight spot, I mean, or for a case.”

Nightingale looked at me, a little too wide-eyed. “I should hope not,” he said. “David ended up devoting most of his... inventiveness to the war effort. Not only would I empathically loathe to equip you with any of the nasty little spells he came up with, and dearly hope you wouldn’t find yourself in a situation fit to use them, but you would not enjoy possession or knowledge of them. Besides, it has been quiet.”

It was true, it had been rather quiet since Lesley had left me handcuffed to Martin Chorley’s corpse. She hadn’t been in contact lately, and she proved all but impossible to find. She might have left town, there was no way to tell. Besides, would I want to use a ‘nasty little spell’ on Lesley May? I’d rather not be faced with that choice, and I reckoned Nightingale knew that.

“We’re talking some sort of... battle magic,” I guessed.

“Close-combat practice, is what we said.” Nightingale crossed his arms, as if having to shield himself against a sudden cold. “Battle magic makes it sound so... heroic. I wouldn’t have you romanticize it, yes, it was mostly ways to kill. Multiple targets at a broader scope. Single targets at wider ranges, snipers and the such. At close range, quickly and painlessly, slowly while causing pain. The works. Many of these creations were volatile and messy, tenth-order or higher disasters. Nothing I’d want any apprentice of mine to learn.”

I frowned. I found I really, really didn’t want to think on ‘slowly while causing pain’. “A tenth-order spell on a battlefield? Who does that?”

“I,” Nightingale said simply. It wasn’t to showcase his talent. His voice was hollow, his eyes far-off and dull, looking back at something not here, something I was fairly glad I wasn’t seeing. “David was lucky to have me on hand.”

“Were you together through the whole of it?”

“Well, most of it. We did what we could to ensure we’d stay together, and command knew we made an effective team.”

I decided what the hell, I’d just go for it. I was curious. Mellenby had just been chucked into my life, no one had deigned to explain anything to me, and I wanted information. “You guys were in love love, huh?”

Nightingale huffed. “Quite. How would you like to try a new forma?”

It was a blatant attempt at distraction. A part of me wanted to fall for it. “How did that work?” I asked anyway.

“Clandestinely.” Nightingale rolled up his sleeves. “Why don’t we step over into the lab?”

We had just about gotten around to that when Molly appeared in the doorway, handing Nightingale his phone. If she still held a grudge about a broken cup, she didn’t show it, but she maybe handed the phone over a bit more coolly than usual.

“Oh, it must be Abdul with the test results. Thank you, Molly.” Nightingale answered the phone. What ensued was one of these situations where I stood there listening to Nightingale’s side of the conversation and entertained myself by mentally trying to fill in the gaps on Walid’s end. Which wasn’t all that easy, because Nightingale mostly said “Yes” and “Hm” and “No, that’s perfectly alright with me”.

“Well, the results are in,” he told me after he’d hung up. “They’re about what you’d expect.”

“So... he’s a completely normal human person?” I ventured.

Nightingale nodded. “Still, we should visit the cemetary, to make sure.”

It’s like you don’t want it to actually be him, I thought. What’s with that? I didn’t say it out loud. One does not simply psychoanalyze one’s boss. What I ended up asking was, “I thought the signare check was already foolproof?”

“To the best of our knowledge, it is,” Nightingale admitted. “But I’d like to tie up all loose ends here.” He sighed and leaned against one of the desks, and for a moment he looked... well, he never looks his age, but he looked weary, for a second. “Is that reasonable?” he asked. “I like to think I’m comporting myself reasonably, generally. But when it comes to this situation, I have my doubts.”

I opted for what I thought was safest. “That’s for you to judge, sir.”

“I appreciate your genuine insight, Peter,” Nightingale said. And sure, he looked past me at the ceiling as he said it, but it still totally counted.

I guess I must have looked or sounded surprised when I replied, “Do you, sir?” because he gave me a peculiar glance and said, “Yes, of course. You’ve had some very sound ideas while I’ve had you here. Your efforts are bringing the Folly into the modern world in a way I could never have executed and would never have thought to. Surely you must know that.”

“Sir,” I said neutrally.

“Oh, come now,” Nightingale insisted. “I must have told you that at some point.”

I cleared my throat. “Usually you say I’m easily distracted and accident-prone.” I grinned and tried to make it sound like a little inside joke between us, light-hearted banter, nothing serious. Nothing I was taking seriously. It probably came out wrong, and I felt silly about it.

Nightingale fiddled with his collar, looking almost a bit sheepish. “I have perhaps not been the most forthcoming in terms of positive feedback.”

He didn’t have to say it, but I knew he wasn’t a natural teacher. He hadn’t wanted to be, and it didn’t come easily to him. But he’d been - he was - the only one for the job. It really wasn’t worth dwelling on. “Here’s some honest insight, sir,” I said, “maybe the magical handcuffs are a bit much.”

“I don’t think they are,” Nightingale said. So much for incorporating my opinions. “We should not have a fully trained practitioner with David’s creativity and expertise running around unchecked whom we cannot fully trust.”

“Can we not fully trust your boyfriend, sir?” I asked straight out, and Nightingale shook his head.

“He’s not my... he was that. It was a while ago.”

“Then what is he?”

Nightingale took a second to mull that over. “He’s... his status is pending,” he said. “Now, I believe I was about to show you a new forma, so please focus.”

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 1

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I told you guys I'd update to the best of my abilities!!! Hope you guys enjoy, just a bit of a filler, next chapter will be pretty intense so watch out for that. As always I hope you enjoy. I'll clean up the whole post tomorrow if there's a laptop or computer nearby since I'm just updating via cellphone.

Word count: not quite sure.

Prologue | 1 | 2

3 months later

“I’m home!” You hear the door slam from inside of what’s become your room and you het up from your seat, hoodie and sweatpants still on.

“I see you still look the same as when I left you this morning.” Troye gives you a pointed look that has you staring at him with an unamuzed face as you slumped your shoulders, “And not in a mood to joke around, I see.” He pulls out a bottle of wine that clinks with the other bottes in the paper bag and hands it over to you, “That’s for you, my little alcoholic.” He pats your head.

You sit down at the table, your right knee brought close to your chest and your left leg up on the chair as well, “How is the outside world?” You place the bottle on the table, “Is loaf bread still a thing?”

Troye snorts in laughter, “She finally speaks! And bonus, actually made a witty quip.” He ducks down to place the detergents under the sink, “I don’t think I’ve seen you sober without a hangover in two months.” He sits down on the chair in front of you and smiles sadly at you, he reaches across the table, squeezing your hand, “How are you today, love?”

You sigh, pulling your hood off, and taking out the bun in your hair before redoing it, “I don’t know, I still feel like shit.”

“Obviously.” He mutters under his breath, “You two were together for 3 years, you can’t just fucking break that up and not feel like shit for a long time.” He scoffs, “You can do sooo much better, Y/N.” His eyes soften up, “You know, he called me again today. I bullshitted him, obviously, he also asked about why my landline wasn’t in service.”

You eye the wire from the phone that you cut when you’d heard his voice from the answering machine, and you give him an apologetic look.

“And your sister called again too. She was worried.”

You sigh, rubbing your face in frustration, “I just cant talk to them right now. I don’t want to have to talk about him when I’m this out of it. They loved him so much.”

Troye sighs and stands up, walking behind your chair and undoes your bun, brushing his fingers through your hair, getting the tangles out, “Look Y/N. When you showed up on my doorstep three months ago soaking wet with blisters on your feet, I told you to do what you need for as long as you need to. I told you to stay for as long as you needed to. But for the past three months, you’ve been getting drunk and crying over him, this isn’t getting over it anymore, it’s just regression.” He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, “You are a strong independent woman, and I absolutely love having you here with me, but some things need to change.” He pulls you up and over to your room, “You room is a literal pig-sty.”

He runs over to your laptop, “And you can’t keep getting updates on him.” He shows you the articles opened up on your browser from months ago as he closes them one by one.

“Tom Holland steps out looking fresh from a cry with red puffy eyes and disheveled hair.” Closed.

“Tom Holland eats alone at restaurant, phone glued to his ear as he tries to contact Y/N?” Closed.

“Tom Holland takes dog Tessa out for a walk lookng tired and depressed.” Closed.

“Spider-man actor quitting franchise over relationship problems?” I point an accusing finger towards the article, “In my defense, I got a lot of shit for that, and I didn’t defend myself even if it was just clickbait because I promised myself that I wouldn’t go on social media!” Closed.

“Oh I’ll get to that.” He nudged your shoulder pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Tom Holland caught getting emotional on the phone.” Closed.

“Trouble in paradise? Tom spotted out once again, without Y/N in sight.” Closed.

“Tom Holland, spotted out and about, Y/N still as phone background, have the two worked out their problems?”

“Y/N spotted for the first time in months looking haggard as she grabs a bite to eat at local London Bakery.” He gives you a deadpanned look, “Seriously?”

You shrug, “That’s on you. You were gone for the whole day and I had nothing to eat.”

He sighs, closing the browser window with multiple tabs about Tom still opened, “Sweetie, you have got to stop caring so much. I understand that you love him and you two were in love.” He makes a stupid mushy face, “But he hurt you! Live your life, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”  He opens the next browser window still opened on Tom’s instagram and twitter, “Exhibit B.” He gives you a look before closing the browser.

“You’ve written so many good songs too! But you won’t even share them with the world.” He sat down next to you, clicking around on your laptop before the room is filled with your voice, singing.

You look over at him, “You really think they’re good?”

“I have literally cried with you at night while you would sing.”

You sigh, “I can’t sing right now. I just don’t feel like I can release at album where I’m at emotionally.”

“Then sell some of these to musicians who will, your songs deserve to be heard around the world. And for goodness’ sake, Y/N. Read this will you? It’s been in the mail bin for a month now, they’ve wanted to meet with you for a while now.” He throws a script on your bed

“You aren’t this stupid crying child, Y/N. You are fabulous and you didn’t need a man before Tom, why the hell would need one now?” He has his hands on his hips, “The Y/N I know is better than this. So unless you plan on being her again, then I’m gonna have to cut you off.” He grabs the half finished wine bottle on your dresser before slamming the door shut behind him, “Clean up your room and I’ll call uou when we need to leave to have lunch outside for once.”

You look over at the script on the bed, “The Greatest Showman”, and turn to the first page.

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

“Yeah, I just finished reading the script.” You speak into the phone you kept for business, “I love it.”

“Wait-” Your manager’s voice sounds excited on the other end, “Does this mean you’re going to do it?”

You bite your lip, “Yeah. I think I am, I’m done with this. I don’t want to sit around getting drunk and cry all the time. I’ll send you some compositions I’ve been making these past few months, maybe find some artists who could use the sound on their albums.”

“Th-this is great news, Y/N!” She practically shouts into the phone, “Alright, this is perfect. We’ll fly you out the LA in a few days and you can meet with the directors, meet with the rest of the cast. They’ll be so happy to hear this, I mean, you were their first choice.” she sighs happily, “Alright, well I’ll go ahead and email you the details. I’ll get on the phone with them asap so we can arrange this whole thing!” She pasues, “I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be my roommate anymore?” You turn to see Troye pouting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You roll your eyes, holding out your arms for a hug, “No way. You’re my bitch forever now.” You laugh, “Thanks for the tough love.” He rubs your back while hugging you, “I really needed it.”

“Ugh, I know you did. It sucked having to be so mean to you.” He pulls away from you, “But please don’t ever ever wear anything like what you were wearing in that article, you looked like garbage.” He scoffs at you, “Now go get dressed and we can talk all about your new movie over lunch!" He squeals.

_________________________

"So glad you could make it, Y/N." Michael leans over to give you a handshake which you take gratefilly, "Hopefully the flight wasn't too tough on you. You've been in London so long, I'm sure you'd have jetlag coming back here."

"It was great! I'm so sorry about not getting back to you sooner, I was gling through some stuf-"

He holds his open palm, "Oh, say no more. I understand, you've been very strong amidst your relationship problems and have stayed above it." He compliments you, taking a bite out of his grilled chicken.

Ylu paste on a tense smile, "We all deal with it in our own ways." You sigh, remembering the days you'd spend drinking glass after glass of wine or whatever liquor was available.

"Anyway, so we wanted you for the role of Anne Wheeler, a pink haired trapeze artist and acrobat who falls in love with Hugh Jackman's business partner and protege, Philippe Carlyle." He ponders for a while, "Obviously we had you in mind for Anne, and we also had Ben Hardy in mind for Philippe, but since you were taking a while to give your answer, we honestly did start approaching other people for the roles and since Ben wasn't too keen on the role after finding out we might be going for Zendaya, it was just more work to get done before the production even started, but now that we have you aboard, everything's going according to plan!"

You clench your glass of water at the mention of Zendaya, you were definitely not feeling well enough to be around too many people, "So…" you play with the table napkin, tearing it to smaller bits and pieces starting at the corner, "When does filming start?"

He munches on some mashed potatoes, "We were hoping to start next month so it would probably.take a good 3 to 5 months to shoot, but your filming would probably be shorter since this is focused more in Hugh's character."

You clasp your hands together, "Perfect, I love it!"

"So, we'll send over the contract within a day or two to your manager, and we'll just pick up from there." He stands up to give you a quick hug.

__________________________________

You hop out the car, walking straight to the elevator in your hotel, your manager following closely behind, "He's your phone. Troye told me you broke it after throwing it against the wall." She looks over at me nervously, "I thought it'd be good for you to listen to his voice every now and then."

You take it without saying a word and stuf fit in your pocket, ignoring the constant dings and alerts coming from it as your manager gets off at the 12 floor. You grip the phone tight in your hand. You knew you didn't hate Tom, you walk out the elevator and towards your room, kicking off your shoes and finding more comfortable clothes to wear.

You could never hate him. But a part of you was afraid of all the messages he'd left you you were scared that if you opened them, you'd come crawling back to him, or if you heard him pleading for you to come back, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You lie in bed, pondering over the phone, technically, you didn't need to open the messages.

0601 you hear a 'click' before a picture of your scrunched up face as Tom kisses your cheek greets you and you feel your heart ache. You open the photo gallery, and while your scrolling through all the pictures and videos, you accidentally press kn a video.

"I am with a child." You laugh as you watch him,it was raining in London, but you two were out and about, "Babe, let's get back to the car. We can just drive there."

You point the camera towards him as he jumps in a puddle, laughing loudly, pulling you along, "What are you doing with that umbrella? Get over here!" He pulls the umbrella away, "I love you." He mumbles before embracing you and giving you a kiss.

You pull away, giving him a look, "We're gonna be late to the movies, you know."

He shrugs, grinning at you and looking you like a lovesick puppy, he pulls you in again, "It's just the movies." He grins against your lips.

And then suddenly the video cuts and you're left there missing him and missing who the two of you used to be.

You smile sadly at the black screen, clutching it closer to your chest as you hug your phone, the closest thing you had to Tom, as you drift off to sleep.

[villlaneve]

Life Update (I need help)

Hey, everyone. I’m sorry I haven’t really been active on here for quite a while. I want to explain myself. Just making this post has taken me lots of time and courage to get myself to do it but here I am.I feel hesitant to share this, as I don’t want this to seem like a pity party and feel like I should have higher standards for myself and should be able to do this on my own. My therapist and others have told me to be kinder to myself and cut me some slack once in a while so here I am.

I felt guilty reblogging posts on Tumblr after not having the energy to do so in a while and I wasn’t caught up with the shows so I punished myself by saying I shouldn’t be able to reblog anything. I will try to stop this way of thinking and am happy to go back to my usual reblogging after this!

What’s the problem?

I’ve been suicidal and struggling with depression since I was 16. I am 23 now and feel like I haven’t really accomplished all that much even though my therapist tells me that fighting for mental health and the way I am doing it is progress as well. I can’t really work up any energy to get up out of bed everyday and when I do I feel empty and can’t get myself to do things I enjoy. I can’t remember the last time I was able to read a book. My attention span and concentration is basically non existent so I cannot even watch the few things I can’t get excited about. TV shows such as Killing Eve, Supergirl and other female centric shows are the few things I DO get excited over and can find the energy to enjoy. I follow the posts on tumblr about Supergirl but the last time I watched an episode was about 6 months ago so sometimes not even that excitement makes me able to focus and watch what I love. Focusing on anything feels nearly impossible.

You can imagine that applying this to every day situations it gets even worse. I’ve lost my job around October and have so much anxiety and fear about applying somewhere else. Trying to get into new hobbies that could motivate me to do anything like photography or making videos on youtube is impossible without the money and right equipment. I grew up and still live in a household where if something I do isn’t perfect then it’s bad and doesn’t matter at all. I apply it to every action I take and am trying to actively unlearn it but so far it isn’t working. When a task or opportunity appears all I think about is the possibility of failing and not being good enough so I end up scared and freezing up. I do nothing. I can’t apply for a job or a university/apprenticeship because of that fear and have been stuck in the past few years of my life.

Why don’t you get a job/degree?

I want to address my university education. University in Germany is quite different than in the US. You choose a major once you start university and that’s what you’re stuck with. I got scared after already taking a gap year right after high school and started studying something that ultimately I realized was not right for me. I convinced myself that I should just finish it and work hard and that it could be right for me. otherwise I would be a failure once again. I froze up and stayed in this path. Except eventually I stopped going to classes all together and became more and more depressed and desperate as I did not know what to do next. I don’t know who to ask for help and am scared to do it to begin with.

I finally worked up the courage to apply to a different major earlier this year. That opportunity fell through/I did not get the spot and now I am back to not knowing what to do. Starting another path and applying for spots even if I decide what to do is going to lead me to more freezing up and thus more complications. On top of all this there is another factor that’s weighing on me.

I am in a long distance relationship and have been since I was 18. This relationship gives me a lot of strength to go on and try fighting but at the same time it is another pressure and weight on top of everything. As my girlfriend lives in the US and her plan is for me to move there, originally I was supposed to be finished with my degree at this point. 

Now I am still basically at 0 and cannot move to the US in the foreseeable future. I’ll have to finish a degree here for 3-4 years, find a way to see if my career path is even transferrable to the US. Speech therapy is an apprenticeship here; a german system that includes school and work experience at the same time and lets you start a career after finishing it; its an alternative to a university degree in a way. I feel like the pressure of tests, writing papers and failing at a university is too much for me too handle with my mental health anyway and the only universities that offer speech therapy as a university  degree are private and cost money that I cannot afford!

We try to make things work and see eachother as often as possible but financially making a transatlantic flight work and having to pay for food, transportations etc everytime I am visiting her 1-2 times a year is getting way too much for me to pay for. Especially now that I do not have a job. Only having to do this for another year or two would have been fine but now it will be another few years before we can even think about me going there. Safe to say this is a hard situation and is putting a big strain on our relationship, financially and emotionally on both sides. Having to spend so many more years apart and not knowing how to afford to see eachother. My mental health is blocking me from finding a job to start alleviating the financial side of this at least and I am frozen in panic and fear.

Why don’t you get help? You can go to a hospital or clinic to treat this

I would like to add that on top of all this most of the friends I did have here are on a semester abroad or have moved out of the country all together. Despite that I am glad to have my family and the 1-2 people I see about once a month to give me comfort. It gives me a bit of levity and strength and I tried checking myself into a clinic to face my fears and mental health problems head on. However, they completely isolated me from any cellphone usage there and going outside at any time. Visitors were only allowed on weekends. I had no way of communicating with anyone aside over a landline and only in very limited time slots (that landline was broken for several days when I got there mind you). I had to scramble to somehow find a way to talk to my partner with her buying a skype international landline and even then most of our calls were spent with us trying to find a way of when we could talk the next time and being frustrated when things would not work on some days because of commitments. If there was a change of plans there was no way for me to call her and let her know something was up. Only she could call and it was anxiety inducing for both of us having no way to reach out to eachother. The people there all had their own issues and as a person who already worries about triggering other people being around very emotionally vulenrable people only and upsetting them (they told me all the things I had done wrong during a group therapy session) launched me into the worst panic attack of my life. No one checked up on me after in the clinic and I no longer felt it was the right or safe place for me and had to leave. Moreover, having a 1 days notice on when I’d get into the clinic  They gave me no time to prepare for these new and extreme conditions (they called me and said I have to decide on the spot if I wanted to come in tomorrow, otherwise I couldnt come into the clinic until March next year).

I am thankful to be back in the little safety net of therapy, being in the city I love with cafes and parks that can somewhat relax me and calm me down and my cousin and aunts to support me. Unfortunately, my parents put me under pressure to “contribute” more in the household. I never know what “enough” is. Everday I get home and do chores I live in fear that it is not enough and will result in them yelling at me again claiming arbitrarily that what I did was not enough in their opinion. Things are tense to say the least. They want me to start something and get better with my mental health but never really offer to help me themselves and I feel lost and alone. Because of this treatment I always feel that nothing I do is good enough and I can’t/shouldn’t even try in the first place. I am never sure if the standards they set for me are too high or if I am just being whiny and weak or not good enough objectively?

What part of this is my mental health? am I just being lazy? are they right? 

Here is the part I feel especially guilty about: Asking for help.

I wanted to accurately explain why and how I am struggling. I hope at least some of you can empathize and understand why this seemingly easy situation is so hard for me because of my family history and mental health.

Money doesn’t buy happiness but it does help alleviate certain financial problems. Being currently unable to get myself to get stable income I feel even more stuck and am struck with panic about how to visit my girlfriend at all.

What will you do when you have money? How will you spend it?

I am commited to fixing my mental health and will do weekly updates on what progress I’ve made. Therapy, looking into speech therapy paths, finding deals and dates for the cheapest possible flights to the US, hobbies like photography or making videos. Having people looking and validating the process makes me feel like I can do this and gives me a project to focus on. I just hope for your kindness to spare any money you have to contribute to bettering my current situation. If you want me to write anything for you, I am happy to just tell me which pairing and the general plot idea and if you want any specific things included. I’ll sincerely do my best.

Moreover, the money would truly be spent on what I need to get better and stabilize i.e. medication, plane tickets to see my girlfriend, equipment for filming/photography, semester fees and occasional mental health treats like going out to a warm cozy cafe to relax and not be faced with the constant stress and pressure at home (max. 15€ a week). I am happy to document these spendings for you. 

As soon as my life has stablized enough and therapy or others around me have helped me to get back on my feet, get a stable income, etc you don’t need to feel an obligation to donate and I can take my posts down if necessary.

My PayPal is https://www.paypal.me/ninin96 and I am truly grateful for anything you are willing to give me or comission me. 

Thank you for your time.

[halliewriteshockey]

For @bertrollzzi, who’s having a shit day and requested “For the record, I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you”, but their ask didn’t go through.

---

“For sure, he’s a great teammate. Always there when I need him, on and off the ice. He knows what I’m gonna do, sometimes before I do it. I can’t imagine playing without him---I love him.”

Silence falls in the media room and Brandon wants to just. Evaporate. Curl up and die. Be one of Thanos’s victims. Anything to get away from the avid stares coming from literally every person in the room.

“I mean,” he says, with absolutely no idea what’s about to come out of his mouth, “I love all my lineys, right? That’s kind of important. If you don’t, uh... love and trust your linemates, you can’t make that magic together, you know?”

It seems to be working. Most of the reporters are nodding in agreement, although a few look speculative.

Tallman is the first to speak. “Brandon, there are a lot of rumors swirling about you staying with the Jets or possibly being traded elsewhere. How do you feel about leaving the team?”

Brandon hesitates. He knows the answer he should give, the diplomatic response that leaves room for discussion either way. But---

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to go,” he says baldly, and if he thought the room was quiet before, he could hear a pin drop now. In for a penny, he thinks. “Winnipeg is my home. The Jets are my family. If I get traded, of course I’ll play my best for whatever team I go to, but---I don’t want to go.”

He doesn’t remember much of the rest of the conference. Trouba takes some questions, then Connor, giving Brandon a break. He wonders distantly where Adam is, if he heard Brandon’s declaration---either of them, he thinks with an edge of mild hysteria---and he makes what he hopes are the appropriate responses when the media scrum breaks up and a few reporters corner him for one-on-ones.

It’s Wheels who rescues him, a hand on Brandon’s arm and an apologetic smile to the reporter who was in the middle of a question. “You’ve got a call,” he says. 

Brandon waits until they’re out of earshot. “You know I have a cellphone. You know everyone has a cellphone these days. People don’t ‘get calls’ from landlines anymore.”

“Yeah yeah,” Wheels says, waving this off.

“You’re very old,” Brandon says, driving his point home, and Wheels gives him a dirty look.

“I was going to say there was someone waiting in the hall for you but maybe there isn’t. Maybe he’s not interested in talking to a smartass and decided to just go home.”

Brandon’s already stopped listening.

Adam’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped against it as he waits. His mustache looks even dumber than the last time Brandon saw him.

“Hi,” Brandon says stupidly.

Adam grins at him and Brandon’s world shakes apart and reforms around him. He would burn cities for that smile, he thinks. Conquer small countries. Rescue Helen of Troy, if she still needed rescuing.

“You loo-oove me,” Adam sing-songs, and Brandon freezes.

Helen of Troy can go fuck herself.

Adam pushes off the wall and takes a step closer, towering over Brandon and grinning like a loon. “You said you loved me in front of God, the world, and the media,” he says. “No takebacks.”

“Nothing to take back,” Brandon snaps. "I was referring to my other liney. Not you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Adam says. He falls in step as Brandon starts down the hall. “You were talking about me.”

“I was talking about Coppy,” Brandon says. He walks faster, but damn Adam’s long legs---he keeps pace effortlessly. “He doesn’t torment me into next week.”

“You like it,” Adam says, seemingly unperturbed. They reach the end of the hall and Brandon picks a direction at random.

Hotels all look the same, he thinks. The same bland yet somehow hideously ugly carpet, the same generic prints on the walls, the same hallways that stretch endlessly for miles---

He whirls and shoves Adam in the chest, hard. Caught off-balance, Adam stumbles into the wall, mouth open, but Brandon is there before he can speak, dragging his head down into a bruising kiss.

There’s a heartbeat of frozen stillness and then Adam is kissing him back, wrapping his obscenely long arms around Brandon’s waist and pulling him close, his mouth hot and devouring.

“I hate you,” Brandon pants when they break for air and Adam proceeds to attack his throat. “You drive me crazy, Lows, I just want to---”

“Want to what?” Adam asks, lifting his head.

“Pin you down and shave that god-fucking-awful mustache, for one thing,” Brandon snaps, and Adam laughs out loud. “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you,” Brandon blurts, and Adam’s laughter cuts off like a switch.

“I know,” he whispers. He brings up one hand and traces the curve of Brandon’s mouth. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Rusty. And I know you’ve loved me back for most of it.”

Brandon shivers under Adam’s finger. “You’re still shaving that mustache,” he warns, and Adam grins at him.

“Okay,” he says, and bends to kiss him again.

[rydenstories]

My Worst Failure as a CPS Worker: The Hall Case

REDDIT

Working for CPS is a sad job, but it's normally not as bad as everyone thinks.

Sure, there are the obviously depressing parts. The whole reason we have to intervene is because something internally destructive is hurting the family dynamic. At the same time, we get to work with these families and do a lot of good. In fact, with the proper counseling, we remove far less children and see more families healed. It's not uncommon that a person is only a poor parent because it's all that they know. People learn.

There are situations that are out of our hands, though, that are the worst. Those ones where no matter how much you help, you just feel like something higher is at play. You find yourself feeling like you're just waiting to clean up the mess.

In our branch, management has always tried to even out cases as much as possible. They wanted to be sure nobody became overwhelmed. Still, there were certain social workers with us that were more pressed to get the job done than the others. "Case-closers." I used to be one of them until recently, with an unsolvable case that's nearly ruined my life.

For privacy reasons, we'll just call this the Hall Case.

It didn't start out abnormal. It was challenging, sure. 8 year old kid being pulled back and forth between a nasty divorce in process. Two whackjob parents, neither of which seemed fit to care for themselves, let alone their daughter. Still, that's not something at all uncommon with us. This particular case had just run for a very long time.

One misconception about CPS workers is that we make the final decisions regarding what happens in these cases. Really, we're just mediators. Here to gather the information in a direct setting, make observations, and report back to those in charge.

I wish it were how it is in films. Reading a file and report isn't the same as observing damage in real time. If I had the choice, I would've placed the little girl with a temporary foster within weeks. Instead, her parents guarded her like a prized gem and fought to near violence to keep her as long as they could. One parent would get their two weeks with the child and we'd have to threaten to intervene when she finally needed to go back to the other.

Things changed when the father, Mr. Hall, was arrested in an unrelated criminal drug case. This gave Mrs. Hall free reign to keep the child as long as she wanted. I guess was partially relieved, knowing at least one of them was away from the child. It also meant I could focus on monitoring just one parent.

However, this is where things begin to get strange.

Mrs. Hall calls me on the day of her scheduled counseling appointment with a question about possibly switching to an alternative counselor. I explained that they'd have to be approved by me and any non-CPS counseling has to be monitored by the case-worker (myself) for a month or so before they can go unattended. She seemed glad but... unconcerned? Like a very "sure, yeah, whatever" attitude.

However, when I tried to meet her at the address she gave for the next counseling session, she and the girl weren't there. The building on the property was a church called "Church of Milcom" that seemed recently occupied but was then empty. It didn't seem that strange to me, in the moment. Churches hold counseling sessions. Maybe we got our times mixed up, I worried. Still, I had to report that they missed the counseling session, which didn't look good for Mrs. Hall.

The next session came and went with no word. Two more days and my superiors sent me to check on the house. Empty, car gone. An elderly neighbor strolled across the lawn as I was leaving and explained that he hadn't seen either of them in a while, likely since the last I spoke to her.

With the evidence mounting, we finally got the local police involved and put out an alert. It seemed very likely that Mrs. Hall had run off with the child. I hated when it came to things like this, but at least it was certain that she would finally be arrested and the little girl would be placed somewhere safe.

Despite all of this seeming very clean cut, I couldn't shake that church out of my head, so I started to do some research. The building was owned by the city but wasn't supposed to be inhabited by anyone, let alone a seemingly fully established church just from a glance. Stranger still, there was no record of a "Church of Milcom" anywhere in the city, state, or country. I brought this up to my superiors, but for some reason, it was left out of the proceedings.

The most helpful tip came surprisingly from Mr. Hall, though not immediately and not directly.

Initially, it was a natural step in the process to go question him in jail, he was the first person we came and saw, but his estranged wife had seen to it that he wouldn't have a clue where they'd go. He said that she'd changed so much over the several months that they were separated, he couldn't fathom where she'd take their daughter. Meanwhile, it seemed like some time behind bars really woke him up, and he seemed more concerned for his daughter than ever before.

For weeks, things stayed the same. We got dozens of false tips and strange individuals trying to claim some involvement. Nothing came of any of it.

When a call came from the jailhouse that they'd possibly recorded a call between Mr and Mrs Hall, we rushed down to hear the recording.

The conversation starts our casual, him clearly not wanting to alarm her. He gently asks her where she's gone. Her air is light and unbothered as she explains that her new church had them on an important trip. She promised she would come back better than ever before. This clearly worried Mr. Hall, the statement lacking the mention of their daughter, which he brings up. There's a long pause on the other end before she gleefully replies that their daughter is going to help in the most wonderful way.

Mr. Hall can't hold his composure anymore and begins to sob, which isn't what Mrs. Hall wants to hear, causing her to hang up.

It was a very strange and very sad exchange. Apparently, after the call, they had to move Mr. Hall to a different area of the jail as he was inconsolable.

Meanwhile, I reported this back to my superiors who, unshockingly at this point, did very little with the information. Their report reflected the religious fanaticism but wouldn't acknowledge the Church of Milcom's involvement at all. Without this information, I knew somewhere inside that nobody would be able to find them.

I started to lose hope as the days went on. We got a call from the jail that Mr. Hall was having nightmares about his daughter. These nightmares made him entirely certain that she was already dead, causing him to lose hope. He was moved to a psychiatric facility to be kept on suicide watch.

This case unsettled me to no end. I couldn't give my other cases the proper attention. I couldn't focus in my personal life. Meanwhile, I was terrified to admit that I had begun to have nightmares as well. This poor little girl, screaming at me from within raging fire. It was almost too much to stand.

I still don't know how she got my personal number, but I was snapped out of one of these nightmares by the ringing of my cellphone. Without really bothering to check the caller ID, I answered to be greeted by Mrs. Hall. All of her certainty and cheerfulness from the jailhouse phone recording was gone, replaced by fear and confusion. She spat near nonsense at me through ugly, unstifled sobs. From the mess, I pulled the information that she was at home.

I put her on mute for a moment as I retrieved the landline from it's base, calling the police and then my superiors to get permission to go to the scene. Afterwards, I got dressed and rushed towards the house.

The police were only just arriving on the scene, awaiting my own arrival to accompany them inside the house. The front door was already partially open and Mrs. Hall sat in a disheveled mess on the couch, still weeping into her phone as if I were still on the other end. However, as she realized that we were inside the room, she jumped up with overwhelmed excitement, sobbing even louder as she threw herself into my arms.

Immediately, there was a lot that was very different about this woman. Although her face was seized up in fear, I could tell that her skin was much smoother and cleaner. Hair that was damaged from years of chemical processing was now silken and new. She even had a bright new set of teeth. Even though she seemed to have lost her mind, Mrs. Hall could've passed as 15 years younger.

It was difficult getting full words out of her, but she didn't need to tell us where the girl was. The police had already slipped past us to check out the rest of the house, and they were indicating toward a back bedroom door that was sealed shut with broken pieces of wooden furniture and nails. There was an awful smell coming from the other side, which put a pit in everyone's stomach but also pushed them to remove the boards quicker.

This is when Mrs. Hall lost it. She tore away from me and began barreling towards the officers in the hallway, screaming for them to stop. She was detained and removed as the final board was removed from the door. Before it could even be sat down, the bedroom door opened from inside.

A foul smelling 8 year old appeared in the doorway, asking if she was allowed to come out now.

There was something strange and casual in her tone that would have felt slightly off if we weren't all so shocked and relieved to see her. I led her out and it should have been the end of everything.

I wish it was.

Initially, both parents were in separate psychiatric facilities, and we really didn't have much to go on. Besides, the case seemed pretty cut and dry to anyone besides myself. There were things I still wondered and worried about, like the Church of Milcom. I wasn't able to get anyone to hear me out, even when the elderly neighbor I'd talked to earlier had gone out of his way to let the authorities know that a grey bus full of people dropped the mother and daughter off that day.

Meanwhile with nobody to care for the Hall girl, we had no choice but to place her with a foster family. The family asked us within two days to begin looking into other options for her and straight brought her back after four.

First and foremost, she smells terrible. The stench of rotten meat has continued to permeate from this girl. More-so, she's just... scary.

At first, she confronted me about the nightmares. It was so casual, I barely caught what she'd said. She had to repeat herself twice; "the nightmares are never going away." Afterward, she continued with the conversation like nothing but I was too shaken to finish speaking with her. It was true, the nightmares hadn't stopped. I still had horrible dreams about this little girl engulfed in flame. It always seemed like she was saying something, but I could never hear her over the roar of flames. Either way, she somehow knew.

It became more serious, to me, when I found her with burnt photographs, which she claimed she'd stolen from another CPS worker's cubicle. There were still cinders falling from the burnt edges, but I couldn't find any sign of matches or a lighter and she wouldn't have had enough time to hide them.

The idea of taking some time off sounded better and better with each passing day. I even started to talk with another caseworker about possibly transferring the Hall case over to him yesterday evening. As if the universe was intervening, my superiors called me into their office with an emergency. The Hall girl disappeared from her current foster home. Even worse, one of her foster brother's was badly injured.

I wasn't allowed to attend on this scene, though I wasn't given a reason why. I was luckily able to convince the coworker who had been there to show me some of the photos she'd taken. At first, I couldn't honestly tell what had happened. This poor kid's neck looked like cooked ham. Only upon closer inspection did I notice the finger impression. Adult finger impressions, literally burnt into this poor child's neck.

I'm not sure if my superiors found out about me seeing these photos, or if everything had just come down the point of blaming me for not preventing any of this, but I was put on indefinite leave this morning.

The boy is in a coma and can't explain what happened, and the Hall girl is still missing. They're treating it as a kidnapping, linking the burns to an unidentified assailant. Now, with everything coming together, I'm entirely sure that's not what happened. It doesn't matter what I think though, at least not at this minute.

I know that when I go to sleep tonight, the nightmares are going to continue. This case.... I don't want to give up on it, but I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure this little girl is done with me. I have lots more research to do, I just hope I can go back to helping people after this.