#its stab ell month now

[intotheelliwoods]

You know what I'm going to haunt your ask box too EVIL LAUGH

RARAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#asks #2 arms left fanart #HRRHRKJAFNHKRNKRFN #RARHARRAHAHRARARJARHRjhaRHar #yells at you more on discord* #you are a MENACE #ARGARRJHG!JF!H!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #AHYAHHAHHADSJHH!!!!!!!!!!!! #EVERYONES #KILLING ME #AND STABBING ME #its stab ell month now #hate it here #hate this #but I love this #but I hate this #but I hate you #but I love you. #but you are evil. #cw death #tw death

[rosepascal]

Call My Name | Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel is bleeding out and he calls out for someone, but it's not you.

warnings: blood and gore. Fixing a wound with a needle and thread, angst, happy ending

a/n: I love angst and I love Joel so here is an angsty Joel piece. with a fluff ending bc he deserves to be happy. Also I'm using a gif from ep7 but it doesn't take place during ep7.

There was so much blood. So much. Your hands are covered in it as you half drag Joel to safety. Ellie trails behind, terror in her eyes as she hugs Joel's riffle to her body.

"Come on, just a little further." You beg. You could almost cry the s a small abandoned house gets closer in view. Ellie runs forward, holding Joel's riffle the same way she's watched him hold it for the past few months.

"Ellie wait!" You call as she runs to the house, you know she's clearing it out. Making sure its well and truly safe but you were worried for her own safety.

"Ell-" Joel tries to say but he can't muster the energy.

"Shh, it's okay. We're almost there." He falters and falls to his knees, almost taking you down with him.

"Please Joel come on." You push hard against his stab wound making him groan loudly.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. It breaks your heart to hear him in so much pain but it wakes him up enough for him to keep move.

"It's clear!" Ellie shouts from the door. Dropping the gun to help you drag Joel the rest of the way. A shitty mattress sits in the corner of the room and you gently lay him on it. His eyes flutter shut and you gently slap his face to keep him awake.

"Ellie! Go look for something to stop the bleeding." Taking off your jacket you ball it up and press it firmly against his stomach. The shake in your hands make it hard to focus but you close your eyes and pray Ellie can find something.

"It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay." At this point you aren't sure if you're saying this for his or your benefit more.

Ellie comes rushing down the stairs with a needle and thread in her hands. You had some medical training, it was part of why Joel and Tess had let you into their little operation in the first place.

They promised protection and you promised to fix all their injuries. Joel got hurt more than Tess did and he was always grumpy about it. He never liked to admit when he was hurt. But it was that stubbornness that you loved about him. He's a protector. And now it's your turn to protect him.

"I have a towel in my bag, can you go get it wet." You instruct Ellie who doesn't hesitate to start moving.

The small river outside of the house might be your saving grace with some fresh water. Taking a deep breath you focus on making your hands stop shaking. Lifting up Joel's shirt you whimper at the sight of his wound. His hand weakly grabs for yours.

"I..." He coughs and groans in pain. Trying his best to hold on and be strong for the both of you.

"Save your energy." Ellie comes back with a wet rag and you start to clean up his stomach. Wiping away a few tears you tell Ellie to look away.

"This is going to hurt." You mumble as you take the needle and puncture his skin. His knuckles turn white as you weave the needle through his wound.

"Just a little more." You ignore his groans of pain and Ellies quiet sniffles and focus.

Focus on saving Joel. You have to do this right. You have to save him. It's rough and not the cleanest work but its enough to stop the bleeding. Tying off the thread you break it and clean up around it.

Your towel stained red. Tossing it off to the side you let out a sigh of relief. He mumbles something. His hand reaches out, searching for something. You immediately grab his hand and lock your fingers together.

"Need..." He closes his eyes and you squeeze his hand tightly.

"Tess..." He whispers, his hand going limp as his body finally stops fighting to let him rest. The relief of saving his life is quickly washed away. Replaced by a cold, ugly feeling. You drop his hand without thinking.

"I..." You can feel Ellie's eyes on you. It's stupid. Joel is lying there, half dead. You should be thankful that he's even alive. Who cares if he called out for Tess. You loved Tess too. She was like family.

"Stay with him, I'm going to hunt for food okay?" Your smile doesn't reach your eyes and Ellie wants to say something. But she was never good with feelings either.

"Come back, please." She says. Her voice shakes and she wants to stop you from going. Not wanting to risk losing someone else. Slinging Joel's rifle across your back you promise her you'll be back.

Stepping out of the house your eyes are drawn down to the ground. The trail of Joel's blood makes you nauseous. One step after the other. Once you're far enough away.

You break.

Falling to your knees as you sob into your hands. You were so, so scared. Joel could have died. He should have died. The house, the needle and thread, all dumb luck. Your hands are stained red and you don't think that it will ever come off.

If Joel died, you don't know what you would have done. He was the leader. He could handle a gun like no one else. He knew what to do. Without him, you'd still be stuck under FEDRA back at the QZ. He had saved you and whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not he gave you a reason to live.

Joel is everything to you. His stubborn, cold exterior scared you at first. He rarely smiled and he was numb on the inside. Being their medic meant you saw him at his lowest, most vulnerable state. It was hard to get him to accept your help. He always waved you off and told you he was fine. Nothing that some whiskey and pills couldn't fix. But you were persistent.

After a while he didn't scare you. He could scowl all he wanted but he would never hurt you. He trusted you. He cared for you.

And when he was dying, he called for Tess.

It's so embarrassing. Shame crawls through your veins as you fight the jealously that brews deep. There's no time to be jealous right now. Especially not of a woman who was dead and sacrificed her life for you. But god you thought that maybe he felt the same way you did.

You weren't stupid either. Just hopeful. You knew that her and Joel had a past based on the way they interacted with each other. The longing looks that Tess gave him. It was something that you never pried about. Not that you could blame Tess either. Falling for him was never the plan but it happened and now you had to deal with it. Joel knows how you feel. That man couldn't express how he felt to save his damn life but he kissed you. That had to mean something right?

A few months before this whole journey had started you were patching up his face. A bruised eye and a busted lip that some asshole gave him.

"You got to stop getting into fights Joel." You dab his lip and he winces.

"Not my fault that fucker swung first." He stretches out his hand. His knuckles cut up from the punch he landed square in that guys face.

"What am I going to do with you?" You tease lightly. He takes your hand away from his face, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes of his.

"Joel.." He silences you with his lips. Their softer than you thought. A little sloppy like he's out of practice but you don't care. It was over too soon for your liking. He pulls away and lets go of your wrist.

"Thank you." He says, his eyes looking anywhere but yours.

After that you started, something. He looked out for you and cared for you. He'd come to you after a rough day and when you were alone. It felt like he loved you. But did it mean anything? He would wrap his arm around you while he slept but he never kissed you. Maybe that should have been a sign.

Were you just someone to keep his bed warm?

As the sun starts to set you make your way back to the house. It didn't take long to find some wild turkeys. They were loud as hell anyways.

Ellie perks up when she hears the door open. She had been lying next to Joel, watching his chest rise and fall. After dinner you pull up a few couch cushions you found and lay them next to Joel.

"Come on Ellie," You point to the cushions and she hesitates.

"What about you?" Smiling you shake your head.

"I'll be alright. Need to keep watch anyways." She reluctantly agrees. Holding onto Joel's arm as she drifts asleep.

Joel opens his eyes the next day. Giving him water and food he tries to get up and move but you stop him. It feels childish but you can't look him in the eye. Fearing that if you do he'll see right through you. It's another four days before he's ready to move. He doesn't listen to your protests as he packs up his things.

"We need to keep movin' west." He says and you sigh.

"You were bleeding out five days ago Joel." He shrugs and slings his bag over his shoulder.

"I'm not anymore." Sometimes you really wanted to slap some sense into him.

"Whatever." You grumble and head outside. Joel scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. He noticed something was off about you. You didn't have that light in you.

Before you and Ellie would fill the silence with jokes and stories that made him roll his eyes. He never thought that he'd miss that. Miss your laugh and your smile. You hadn't even looked him in the eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" He pulls you to the side. Telling Ellie to not wander too far.

"What?" He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry." That takes you by surprise.

"You should've never been put in that position. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You scoff in disbelief. He thinks you're upset at him for that?

"We take care of each other Joel. There's nothing to be sorry about."

"Then why are you so upset?" He questions and you squirm under his gaze.

"It's nothing."

"Don't tell me it's nothin' cause I know there is." He says firmly. There's no escaping this conversation and you know it.

"You called out for Tess. Before you passed out." You admit. He lets go of you and it hurts just a little.

"Look Joel, I. I love you and I thought that maybe you loved me too."

"Baby I-" He starts but you cut him off. Too wrapped up in your own head to even notice him calling you baby.

"Please Joel, I don't need your pity alright? We can forget all about this and never speak about it again." You hate the way he looks at you. You were not some lovesick puppy and he was staring at you like one.

"I was thinking 'bout Tess." He says. His face loses that scowl you're so used to seeing and it confuses you.

"And Tommy and Sarah and You." His eyes are filled with so much pain. It fills you with guilt as you look down at the ground.

"I'm supposed to look out for you, for her." He gestures towards Ellie. "I failed." he says simply. He hides the pain well but the memories of the ones he loved are raw in his heart. "

Just like I failed Tommy and Sarah and Tess."

"Joel..." Cupping his cheeks you finally see the broken man that's been hiding behind that face. He leans into your touch.

"You didn't fail them and you didn't fail us. You're still here and that's all that matters."

You press your forehead against his. Noses bumping together as you try and send him all your love. He doesn't believe you. You could tell him a thousand times and the doubt in his mind would still tell him otherwise.

"Hey, I'm serious Joel." You kiss his cheek and he closes his eyes.

"The suns going down. We better get a move on." He steps out of your grip and calls for Ellie to come back. You smile sadly as he walks ahead. His stomach twists and turns with every step. He stops suddenly causing you to bump into him.

"What are-" His hands wrap around your waist as he captures your lips in a kiss.

He's rough and slightly desperate but his lips are as good as you remember. He has a lot to say but he can't, he doesn't know how. You can't help but smile like an idiot when he pulls away. He sees the shine in your eyes, the happiness that he hopes never goes away. He's failed too many people in his life but he won't fail you.

He'll never fail you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

[polish-child-of-hecate]

Hello, fellow human beings

The name I was born with is Maja and im a Hecate kid

Im 15 and I use all pronouns

Im panromantic, ace and genderluid

Im from Poland, so sorry for bad grammar

I have ADHD, anxiety and DID (Dissociative identity disorder)

I have about 20 different identities

My fav color is green and my hobbies are reading, drawing, annoying people by speaking Polish, anything that has something to do with music, stargazing and simping over fictional characters (Philip Carlyle and Anne Wheeler from The Greatest showman, Luke Skywalker from Star Wars, Newt from The Maze Runner, Ben Hargreeves/Number 6 from TUA, Zane from Ninjago)

Im single, but you can flirt with me if you want to

My backstory: When I was nine I found out I was a demigod I was horrified to find that out. Because my father had always told me that Demigods and the gods were evil. So I was scared that my dad would hate me. I was forced to go to the camp for half bloods. I've been there ever since I found out that Demigods are not actually evil. Most of them are really good people. When I was growing up, I was really scared of my father. He would hit me all the time. It caught so bad that I had severe anxiety and DID (Dissociative identity disorder). I love going to the arts and crafts area. I like to draw there. Its fun. There is this part of the forrest that I discovered when I was 10 where no one goes to. Its quiet and beautiful. So I snuck out some blankets and pillows. After a while some nymphs helped me, and now I have a mini camp area there. When I was 13 I was claimed by Hecate and I reunited with my brother Simon (He has a blog too) , who ran away from home when I was 3. That was a fun day. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 14. That explained a lot of things. On my birthday every year I meet the nymphs in the forrest and we have a little party. I always enjoy the parties. Its much more fun than talking to people. The nymphs are some of my closest friends. Last year on my birthday, one of the nymphs called Salisa gave me a dark green hoodie. I love it. Its so comfortable, and the hood covers my face. Wich is a plus because i have a scar on my face. (Salisa is now my best friend and I just got them to make a Tumblr account.) A few months ago some other humans started to join the hangouts too. Their names are Anne, Zoë Nightshade and Lexi Mistrose. (They have blogs too.) I also like the goddess Ariadne (she has a blog too). About a moth ago I got stabbed my someone from the Titan Army and I ended up in Elysium. I managed to escape (because Ariadne and Anne are awesome) and now I wander around the Earth as a ghost/spirit, but people can still see/talk to me.

(Ooc: 90% of the backstory is made by @thatonebitheaterkid)

(Ooc #2: my main blog is @just--a--random--human--being, the blogs i was talking about ic are @fvck-the-dam-gods, @ariadnes-only-child, @salisa-is-a-nymph @zoe-can-see-the-stars-again @my-aunt-and-my-dad-are-cool @one-and-only-ariadne, ill be using the tag #maja is talking and the face claim is Elle Fanning)

#maja is talking #maja is talking ooc

[martyrbat]

will say with some hindsight (and now that im in bed and its done until tomorrow) that i don't think most higher ups in a company is used to autism audacity and its really funny to throw them off with it. i called a vice president's home phone. like her actual fucking ell phone. i argued with her for several hours and called out every fucking lie she attempted. i got transferred to someone ‘to voice my concerns to’ that was so far under her that i just hung up and then called her cell again IMMEDIATELY and said, verbatim, ‘im sorry if my direct approach is untraditional and making you uncomfortable, mrs [name]. but if you want to sneak around and stab people in the back, someone is going to turn around and confront you about the knife you just put in them. as i was saying—’ because?? okay she just killed me. she literally took away every penny we scraped by when we already havent had a paycheck in a month and have been relying on relatives to shoplifting because the nearest food bank is over a hour away and we dont have money for gas. hes either fired or quitting to try and find work so... whats the worse that can happen. i went around with her for HOURS about contracts, payrolls and pay sheets, warranties, and arguing for just basic fucking worker rights. then called other ppl (from different workers in the company to the distributors and garage workers to other drivers to swap info on their end and share what's we found out on ours because yea im gonna get people pissed and the whole thing is slimy with the different shit theyre telling ppl) just to confront her again at 9pm (this literally started at 6:30 in the fucking morning) like... okay autism audacity (and union lover).... i see u.

#i was raosed in a very explosive household and im quiet a lot but god i am awful at being professional instead of passive aggressive or #half snarling as i grind my teeth LMAO #its been a mess but like. #i caught her in so many fucking lies and flat out ‘thats not true’ ‘are you lying or that removed from the people youre hurting?’ #‘miss [name] its getting late’ ‘yea it is. can you manage to stop lying to me so we both can get on with our evenings?’ #i was about to joker beatbox on her ass goddd #believe it or not this is not even a rant post this is me genuinely going huh. autism moment #but god theyre lying on so much to so many ppl and like. power in numbers baby fuck you. #posting crocbat yaoi while arguing with a V.P. simultaneously & about to start a fucking union with a bunch of middle age truckers... <3 #but okay. i got a busy day tomorrow and its 1 am and I still gotta shower so <33 goodnight until i delete this in the morning

[gally-hin-phantom]

Revamp of my Film Noir Au, now named Mafia Au 

Danny lives a double-life, but this time is an hitman instead of a superhero, and all ghosts (minus Clockwork) are his targets/victims

Because like you know I love Aus where Danny isn’t playing nice 😈

xxx

Additional Arts with Jazz/Vlad/Dani and Au Information below the “Keep Reading”

(Triggers Warning: mention of violence and death) 

——————————————————————— Name: Daniel James Fenton Nickname: Danny Occupation: Part Time Nasty Burger employee / Pro Hitman Age: 23 Codename: Phantom Kill Count: ??? Personal Gun: Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm Abilities: Smart, good liar, social skills, self-defense, guns skills, knife skills, first aid, parkour

History: 

Daniel Fenton is the youngest son of Maddie and Jack Fenton. His parents died when he was still in middle school, leaving him alone with his hospitalized older sister Jazz Fenton and a lot of debts.

In high school, he started to steal money to keep his parents’ house and pay for Jazz’s hospitalization.

One day, without noticing he was stealing drug dealers, he accidentally got caught in a shoot-out. After the slaughter, hidden behind a bin, he met “The Master of Time” a professional hitman. At first the hitman wanted to kill him in order to erased any witness but Danny begged him to spare his life and to teach him assassination instead. Confused but intrigued by so much will, and after serious warnings the hitman accepted Danny as his apprentice. One year after, Danny got his first mission and target, an ex-policeman by the name of Percival Walker.

In the beginning Danny only wanted to target dubious people, but after being call « monster » by one of his victim, and then killing the innocent witness Dorathea Legrand, he stopped caring and started to accept missions with innocents and even children.

Each mission usually brought him between 15’000$ and 30’000$, after the intermediate commission he stored the rest on 5 separate bank accounts with different names, and lied to Jazz about his current job, saying that their parents left them a lot of insurance money.

He approximately killed 3-6 persons a year but hadn’t killed anyone in the last year and started to run out of money. In April, he gladly accepted his next mission, a wealthy businessman in the name of Vladimir Masters.

Morals: 

Danny is now ok to kill people, after all animals kill to eat, humans also kill animals for food. Receiving money to kill somebody isn’t so different from receiving money to butcher a cow for steak. After long conversations with his vegan friend Sam, he concluded that animals' lives don’t worth less than human lives. Moreover humans kill other humans, for oils or other horrible beliefs (racism, homophobia etc…). At least he does it to help his sister and not twisted pleasure. Like he says “He didn’t have a choice and can’t go back.”

Danny used to but doesn't have regrets anymore, “What's done is done” and what he earns help him to keep Fenton Works and Jazz alive by moving her to a better hospital. 

He doesn’t have guilt either, the one to blame is the person who asks him to kill. The one to blame is the person who wants to kill, not the knife. Like a knife he is only a ‘tool’.

Even if he never sees a ghost he believes in a sort of afterlife, and isn’t scared of death. He only hopes to survive long enough until Jazz fully heals.

Memorable Kills:

Mission 1: Jailbreak Target name: Percival Walker Occupation: Prison Guardian, ex-policeman Cause of Death: Shooted in the head

Mission 2: Djinn Target name: ? Occupation: Secret mistress of a wealthy businessman Cause of Death: Stabbed in the throat Notes: Commissioned by the businessman’s jealous wife.

Mission ?: Specter Target name: ? Occupation: Teen therapist/counselor Cause of Death: Shouted several time all over her body Notes: Called Danny « freak » and « monster » right before death.

Mission ?: Plague Target name: Aragon Legrand Occupation: Heir of a powerful wealthy family Cause of Death: Shouted in the head Notes: Dorathea Legrand, Aragon’s sister, unexpectedly intervened during the mission, trying to protect her brother. She was also killed to avoid witnesses.

Mission ?: Lullaby  Target: Ember McLain Occupation: Diva Cause of Death: Burned alive in her house, to make it look like an accident

Mission ?: BlueBlood Target name: ? Occupation: Rich Young Heir of a wealthy family Cause of Death: Suffocated in his sleep Notes: Youngest target, he was only 8

Mission ?: Snow Target name: ? Occupation: Journalist & Books Critic Cause of Death: Shouted in the head

xoxoxoxo

Name: Jasmine Panthea Fenton Occupation: Hospitalized civilian  Age: 24 Nickname (by Danny): Jazz, and sometimes before her hospitalization Panny

History:

Hospitalized for a long time her health seems to deteriorate with each passing day, though moving to a better hospital seems to have stabilized her a bit.

Danny is making sure to visit her at least twice a week to keep her company and brought her plenty of books he lends from the library (even if she doesn’t always have the strength to read its, she is happy to have Danny to keep her company).

Though weaker, Jazz is intelligent and doesn’t believe one second the “insurance money” excuse, but she lets Danny has his secrets anyway until the day he decides to tell her everything. Little she suspects her baby brother, who smells like fried food and cheap burgers, has his hands covered with blood.

xoxoxoxo

Name: Unknown but his Initials are C.W. Occupation: Retired Hitman, intermediate Age: ??? Codename: Master of Time Nickname (by Danny): ClockWork Kill Count: ???

History: 

After teaching everything he knows to Danny, he got shot in the knee and forced to retire. He now uses his old connections to act as an intermediate to find him missions.

Clockwork knows Danny only kill to help his sister and is actually very protective of him. He tries to help him and keep him as far as he can from too dangerous missions, even if Phantom’s skills and abilities to kill fast without letting traces are highly sought-after, resulting in more dangerous missions and famous targets.

xoxoxoxo

Mission ?: Plasmius Target name: Vladimir Mikhailovich Masters Occupation: One of the wealthiest businessman of the world Nickname (by Danny): Fruitloop Age: 49 Note: The bounty for his head would be able to finish paying Danny’s debts

History: 

Vlad has a lot of enemies. He is a billionaire and is always on the right side of the law but also do a lot of devious stuffs in the shadows (child labor, ecologic disasters etc…). For humanity's sake, he is literally better dead.

Danny tracked Vlad for months before having the chance to point a gun on the almost untouchable man.

xoxoxoxo

Name: Danielle Masters Dead Name: Kim S. Occupation: Vlad’s personal bodyguard, keeps an eye on her master’s security 24/7 Age: 22 Nickname (by Danny): Elle Kill Count: ??? Personal weapons: Glock 26 and several knives hidden in her boots and jacket Abilities: Smart, good liar and actress, high class social skills, self-defense, guns skills, knife skills, first aid, parkour, high education, bilingual  

History: 

Vlad found her during one of his visits in a warzone country. In one rare act of kindness (?), he took her with him, raised her and paid for her « training ».

While acting as Vlad’s clingy and annoying daughter, she is in fact his close bodyguard. Dani is very devoted and would give her life for her « father » without an once of hesitation.

She usually wears a long jacket to hide her small thought muscular build and wears cloths comfy enough to run and jump.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #clockwork #jazz fenton #vlad masters #dani phantom #maddie the cat #gally draws #mafia au #lost time #or au where halfas have a double life #yes lost time :3 because I like this dynamic #danny is a good boy who don’t have luck #i kinda want to add more art to this au but it won’t really help me improve :( #and imma tired #wanted to redesign clockwork for a long time now #but I make an human design instead oof #ragequitting the art because it’s take me too long and i’m too tired to do more

[thatsgay-writes]

Elle Greenaway x Reader

Summary: Elle makes a shocking discovery after they catch an unsub. (Follows along season 1 episode 7)

Warning: Criminal Mind stuff

The reader is given a name, for certain purposes and it is third person on purpose.

Word Count: 2.5k

Dr. Thomas Fuller wrote, “with foxes, we must play the fox.”

---

“Bad?” Agent Hotchner asks as Elle handed him a folder. “The worst.” Elle responds as they head to the round table room. Gideon stood in front of a board as he looked at all of the images. “Crawford family. Murdered 3 days ago.” He says just as Derek walked in, “Saw it on the news.” He says as he takes a quick look at the board as he walks by. “They were found in the basement of their house...” Gideon says, still staring at the images. “Bags packed for a vacation they never took.” JJ continues for him. “Report said it was a murder/suicide. The father stabbed the mom, then shot himself.” Derek says as he sits down, still not fully sure as to why they were taking it as a case. “That’s the conclusion the Maryland State police came to. The gun was next to the father, he had gunpower residue on his right hand.” JJ states as she states a few things listed on the report in front of her. “And now you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn’t off his family?” Derek asks, looking to JJ for a response. “Yeah. Another murdered family. The Millers-- found a month ago. The mother, Reese Miller, her two children and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement and like the Crawford's, their suitcases were packed for a vacation.”

---

“Elle!” Bailey yelled as she ran towards her girlfriend. Elle Greenaway and Bailey Woods had been friends since Kindergarten, both managing to stay in the same school all the way through middle school and up to high school. In 8th grade, they both finally confessed the feelings they held for each other. “Bailey?” Elle asked in concern as she watched her girlfriend run up to her, tears visibly rolling down her face. “Bailey, baby, what’s wrong?” Elle asked as she scooped the younger girl, by a few months, into her arms. “Did someone do something? Tell me who and we can beat them up together.” Elle said, semi-seriously. You just shook your head as you held onto her shirt tightly. It was the week before Junior year ended, the only tears falling from your face should be happy ones. “What happened?” Elle asked concerned, you had never acted like this before. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with your dad since he was home for the next few months.

Elle made a split second decision and led you out of the school before any of the teachers could notice. “C’mon, let’s go.” She said to you as she opened the passenger door to your car. She had taken the keys from your pocket, knowing you were in no condition to drive. As she drove to your secret spot, you managed to calm down some and were taking deep breaths to calm all the way down. Elle parked in one of the parking spots at the top of the abandoned parking garage and turned off the car. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” She asked as she reached over the middle section and grabbed your hand. You took a few more deep breaths before looking up at her, heartbreak shone through your eyes. “I’m moving.”

---

Elle stood outside the interrogation room as she watched Reid talk to Eric Miller. “Is that what this is about, hmm? You think I’m crazy, man? You think I suddenly snapped and slaughtered my own wife and kids?” Eric kept asking questions as he got more and more agitated. “You think I did this? Huh? Is that what you think!?” Eric yelled as he suddenly stood up. Elle looked to Hotch with wide eyes before they entered the room. “Sit down.” Hotch told Eric firmly. Reid was the youngest on the team and it was his first time doing an interrogation solo, so Elle and Hotch were a little protective over him. “Is this your daddy?”

--- South East Washington D.C

Elle sat quietly in her seat as she sat in the back seat of the car as they drove towards the address Hotch and Garcia had found while snooping through the Crawford’s financials. Reid and Hotch both shared a look at the unusually quiet Elle. Usually when in the car, she would be looking over a file or talking to others to understand more about the case but tis time she was just staring out a window. “Is... Um, is everything okay?” Reid asked, his voice going a little high at the end of his question. His question shook Elle out of whatever she was thinking about, “Yeah... Maryland just brings back some memories...” You’ve been here before?” Hotch asks, concerned about the other agent but also making sure that nothing would intervene with the case they were working on. Elle sat silently for a few seconds before answering right as they pulled up to their destination, “No.”

“Federal Agents!” “FBI” “Federal Agents!” “Clear!” Hotch, Elle, and Derek all yelled simultaneously as they busted through the front door of the home. Elle scrunched her nose in disgust at the sight of the home, “Cleanest thing in here...” She muttered as she kicked what looked like an empty dog bowl. She stayed at the front of the house with Gideon and Reid as Derek and Hotch went deeper into the home. She watched with a questioning gaze as Gideon walked over to the wall and picked up a single painting that was hanging. “What’s that?” She asked as Gideon looked down at the drawing. “It’s a child’s painting. It’s a colonial house. Mom, dad, 2 children out front holding hands.” Gideon listed what he saw. “And a big dog.” She states as she looks over his shoulder.

---

Bailey and Elle laid together in her bed, the end of summer coming faster than ever before. She and Elle had spent almost all their time together, going on dates, spending nights at each other’s houses, etc. Anywhere Elle went, Bailey were there, and anywhere Bailey went, Elle was there. Right now the two of them were laying in Bailey’s bed watching T.V. “Stop staring at me.” Elle mumbles as she stares at the television. Bailey lets out a breath of air and rolls her eyes with a groan, “Love meeee, I want attentionnnnn.” She draws out causing Elle to playfully roll her eyes in response. “Fine, come here.” Elle says as she opens her arms out for Bailey to lay in. Bailey plays with Elle’s hair as she laid her head on her girlfriends chest. “I want kisses...” “Bailey repeats over and over again, like a chant. “Geez, someone is clingy today.” Elle states as she sits up and leans back against the wall. Bailey shifted around so she was now straddling Elle. “I leave in 3 weeks... I just wanna kiss my girlfriend.” Bailey pouts as Elle finally gives in. “Okayyyy.” She says with fake annoyance.

Bailey and Elle were deep into a make out session when her door suddenly busted open. “Eww!” “Ezra!” Bailey yelled as her sister covered her eyes with her arms. “Eww! Not you too! Mommy and daddy were doing that too!” The 5 year old yelled causing Bailey to laugh. Bailey gets off of Elle’s lap and picks up her little sister. “Aww,” Bailey says with a fake pout, “Do you feel left out?” Bailey starts kissing all over Ezra’s face causing the little girl to giggle and try to get away. “No! Eww! Stop it!” Ezra yells as she gets out of Bailey’s hold and pretends to rub away the kiss in fake disgust. Bailey just rolls her eyes at her sisters action. “C’mon, let’s go see if Benson is awake. We’ll be right back Elle.” Bailey says over her shoulder as she and Ezra leave the room. Elle laid back on Bailey’s bed as she left the room, staring at the ceiling. All she could think about was how in love with the younger girl she was.

Her train of thought got cut off as a small body was laid on top of hers. Elle immediately moved her arms to hold him and make sure he didn’t fall off of her. “Hey buddy...” She said in a baby voice as Bailey laid down next to her and pulled her into her. Bailey let out a groan as Ezra jumped on top of her before snuggling up. “Alright... What do you want to watch?”

---

“Okay. No, I understand. Yeah, I figured as much. Thank you.” Derek says as he gets off the phone. “He’s been staring at those pictures all morning.” Elle states as she stares at Gideon who is staring at the drawings done by the murdered children. “well, I sure hope he sees a connection cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I got nothing.” Derek says as Hotch walks by. “Why target those families?” Elle wonders still watching Gideon. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.” Hotch says as he sits down and continues looking at the file in his hands.

“ We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases...male. In the workplace, he's socially confident. And with women...sexually confident. Every offense...is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys, they're...they're meticulous. It's a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. When the kids are comin' home from school. When daddy'll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bath time. Bedtime. Plan the work...work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control. It's also how he personalizes his target... So nothing's left to chance. Absolutely nothing... Is left out of place, ever. So he plans the work... And when he's good and ready, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.” Derek says as they go over everything they have learned about the unsub.

Gideon walks out of the room he was in with two drawings in his hands. He holds both the pictures up side by side. “Both are by Emily, painted months apart.  This one...is full of color, life. The one I found at Emily's house has lines, dimensions. No color. I believe Emily was coerced to make this. It's a point of view. It is his point of view. This is where the killer stood, just watched the family.” Gideon says after having finally figured out the connection of the paintings to the case. Hotch drops a ring on the desk he was leaning on, letting it spins some before picking it up. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy.”

---

Bailey and Elle sat on the edge of the cliff at their special place. Trying to soak up as much time as they could before Bailey had to leave in a few hours. “I can’t believe you’re leaving...” Elle state as she leans her head against Bailey’s shoulder. “We had everything planned out too...” She trails off, looking at the scenery in front of her. “Hey don’t speak like that...” Bailey says as she holds Elle’s face in her hands. “It’s just one school year apart and then we will go to college together like we planned.” Bailey states before she pauses. “Look, I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” Elle raised an eyebrow at Bailey skeptically, promises were a big thing for Bailey, she never broke them. Bailey lets go of Elle’s face and pulls a ring from her pocket. “No before you freak out, this is my dad’s ring.” Bailey says with a slight laugh as she watches Elle’s eyes get big before returning to normal. “Now, you know me and my dad are close... When I was 5 and he got sent on the first deployment I remember, I cried like a baby for weeks on end. It actually got so bad my mom had to take me out of school one time.” Bailey says with a smile as she stares down at the ring in her hand.

“When dad came back and heard about it, he got his ring modified.” Elle watches with slight confusion as Bailey slid the ring a certain way and it split in half. “And now, whenever he gets deployed, I get this half of the ring so I always have a piece of him with me.” Bailey continues her story as she puts the larger part of the ring on a chain. “It’s obviously too big to fit on my ringer so mom bought a chain to put it on.” Bailey says as she puts the chain around Elle’s neck and closes the clasp. “I asked my dad and he said it was okay for me to give my part to you so you know that I am always with you and thinking about you.” Bailey says as she gives Elle a goofy smile. Elle tries to cover her crying but lets a few tears slip. “Hey, it’s okay...” Bailey says as she pulls the girl she loves into a hug. “Senior year will be over before you know it and we’ll be back together again.”

---

The group all sits around the table in silence as Gideon stares into the box that Hotch had found in Karl Arnold’s office. Everyone’s heart dropping as Gideon lets the contents of the small box drop and 8 rings fall onto the table. Every sat in silence feeling remorse for whatever families had lost their life’s to Dr. Arnold. Elle takes a moment to look at each ring and feels herself get nauseous at the sight of one ring that looks a little different from the others. It can’t be... She thinks as she slowly reaches out, ignoring the looks from her friends, and grabs the ring that made her feel sick. She takes a minute to study the ring, her heart beating faster at how familiar it is. She can feel her friends and coworkers staring at her in confusion, wanting to know why she had picked up the ring.

Elle reach's into her shirt a little and pulls out a ring of her own. The group shares a confused look, wondering where the ring had came from and how long she had had it. Elle takes it off the chain and slides the two rings together like she had seen you do ten years ago. The clicking sound it made not only signifying the two rings becoming one but also her heart breaking into two. Elle looks up to see Hotch and Gideon looking at her with a worried face, it was obvious that Elle knew who that ring belonged to. Seeing her friends face’s filled with sorrow was enough for the dam to break and the tears to flow.

---

“Elle! Guess what!” Bailey yelled excitedly into the phone as Elle picked up. Elle laughed at her excitement. “What?” “I get to go on vacation tomorrow!”

#elle greenway x reader #female reader #female character #criminal minds x reader #female x reader #elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenway #criminal minds

[sodone-withlife]

this time

here is yet another introspective dark angst fic torturing Hotch, but you will be glad to know that he doesn't die in this one (what a change from my last two fics lmao). this was written while trying to scratch the writing itch that’s not letting me adequately study for APs and while listening to one-hour loops of Freaks by Surf Curse and Billie Eilish’s cover of The End of the World.

the theme was inspired by the first song mentioned- Freaks by Surf Curse. the same deal applies to this—little to no proofreading was done, all mistakes are mine.

warnings: alcohol, suicidal ideation, implied/mentioned child abuse, canonical character death

word count: 1.9k words

I haven’t seen him take a break in months, not even after Morgan stepped up. Just look at him, he obviously hasn’t slept for a while, I don’t know how the hell he hasn’t collapsed yet.

How is he supposed to take down Foyet if he’s not even able to take care of himself?

How could he sleep when he knew his subconscious would conjure up images of Haley’s cold, bloodied, motionless body, of her unseeing eyes that managed to be accusing, even in death?

How could he sleep when he knew he would be stuck in a never-ending loop of finding his son’s tiny body that he imagined would be even tinier in death, of dreaming about hearing Jack’s agonized screams as Foyet tore into him with the same knife that had nearly killed his father months earlier?

Alcohol.

His father’s vice, and the one he swore, when he was old enough to understand what was happening, that he would never add to his already long list.

But ever since the early morning night he returned to his apartment after spending hours upon hours dealing with the bureaucratic nightmare that was the Turner pig farm case, all of the promises and vows he had made over the years, to himself and to his family, had dissolved and disappeared like dust in the wind.

I swear I’ll make the world safer for you and Jack.

Garcia had been so fearfully confident in the Marshals Service, wanting reassurance in her belief that Foyet would be caught.

But Hotch knew the profile like the back of his hand, and his answer left his lips with easy confidence even as an oppressing feeling of dread came over him.

That was the start.

Foyet’s voice remained in his head, a vicious devil casting doubt on his every word and his every decision, giving voice to his worst fears and darkest impulses that he had long hoped to suppress.

I swear I’ll protect you and Jack for the rest of my days

Then Foyet was waiting in his apartment, and Hotch was weakened by the exhaustion and stress of two all-nighters in a row and one of the worst crime scenes he’s come across in all of his years of prosecution and in the bureau. That night, as his team was sleeping in their beds, dead to the world, he was slowly bleeding out and floating in and out of consciousness for an agonizing length of time before he finally succumbed to unconsciousness

The smell of antiseptic was an unwelcome greeting, and it wasn’t long before he was reminded once again why his mind’s tendency to be strangely clear, even under hospital-grade antiseptic, with its sharp grasp on memory was a curse.

He sank deeper into the bed, all the air suddenly gone from his lungs as he stared at the red streak of his own blood he knew was deliberately painted over his family’s smiling faces.

I swear I’ll never become my father, drowning in alcohol and breaking promises as easily as he made them.

The picture that was left behind wasn’t a warning, but a promise.

Somehow, Hotch knew that Foyet was throwing the promise he had made to Haley and Jack back in his face.

He had promised to protect them, but they were being targeted by a prolific, sadistic serial killer. They were forced to go into the system, and he doesn’t even know where they are, so how can he protect them at all?

Alcohol.

His father’s vice, and one that he ended up adding to his already long list.

The only way he could sleep through a night without waking up paralyzed from the nightmares, from Foyet’s voice taunting him like a parasite finding its home in the dark recesses of his mind.

But his apartment suffered for it, as did his sober mind every morning as he was faced with the evidence of just who he was like when he was intoxicated.

—broken glasses small spills from shaking hands papers thrown askew waking up with a gun at his side and a pounding headache and urges to snap at anyone and everyone and to hit something just like his fathe—

His promises were broken so easily, and so he feared perhaps the only promise that had been occupying his headspace since he last saw his family would follow suit.

We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you

So he avoided sleep as best he could, if only to lessen the all-encompassing dread that fell over him when his subconscious started torturing him with the imagined images of his worst fears.

Headaches, the aching emptiness that had always been and only grew over the past months, the cold numbness that he walked with, they were nothing compared to being too conscious of just how out-of-control everything had become in less than a year.

They were nothing compared to teetering on the edge of the pit of despair that threatened to swallow him whole with every reminder of the clock that was ticking intensely, of each grain of sand that was falling through the hourglass.

They were nothing compared to anticipating the time bomb ready to go off at any moment as he moved through his days, tightly strung and dreading a break in the case that would end up being found too late.

I promise.

...

The clock struck twelve—

the last grain of sand fell—

and the bomb exploded—

taking Haley and much of his heart with it.

But Foyet lived on in his mind, even as his beaten body—beaten by his hands, skull caving in under his fists and warm blood splattering over his face, grief and rage reducing him to his darkest urges that remained more present than they have ever been—was cremated and his ashes sent to unknown places.

Then Jack moved in with him, and his son was living in the apartment in which he had been stabbed nine times.

He gave his statement to Strauss and the other higher-ups, and he was cleared of the same crime that the same higher-ups had pressured him to punish Elle for, even despite her acquittal.

Oh, Elle.

Pulled in from Seattle with high ambitions, only to be crushed by this job… and by me.

Too much like me.

He took his time off, helping Jack settle in and having Jessica over as he made funeral arrangements, a burden he forced himself to take on in order to remind himself of the costs of his hubris.

Then the funeral was over, justified grievances from Haley’s family aired, Jack visiting the Brooks family for the weekend, and the team in Nashville for a case.

And all he wanted to do was sleep, because all of a sudden, his nightmares were gone and he was seeing what his life could have been like—

If he had remained in prosecution to become the youngest DA in county history.

If he had remained in the Seattle office and kept his ambition in check.

If Gideon hadn’t sent him to Boston to help with the Reaper case.

If the case hadn’t stuck with him like it had, hadn’t occupied a special place in his mind for years.

If Boston hadn’t ended the way it had, and Gideon was still unit chief.

If he had put in to transfer to the White Collar division earlier.

If he was less of an addict to the chase, to the danger, the adrenaline pumping through his veins with every case—

—and he was seeing that his life could have been so much better.

Just days ago, sleep was his torture, and wakefulness his refuge.

He was living alone with the demons in his mind, so the alcohol was in the cart out in the open and his firearms no less than a few feet away at all times.

But now, wakefulness was his torture, and the depths of sleep his newfound refuge.

A child was now living in his apartment, so the alcohol was shoved into the back of a cupboard and his firearms locked inside the biometric gun safe high up on a shelf.

—intact glasses in the sink hands remaining steady papers neatly organized and case files hidden from Jack’s innocent eyes mind clear and feeling the weight of his service weapon in his bloodstained hands disjointed thoughts coalescing into one—

The stone bench under the weeping willow in front of Haley’s gravestone was cold to the touch, and the stillness of the late evening was only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves as squirrels and birds moved about. Slowly, he shifted on the bench so that he was lying on his back and staring at the moon through the leaves.

The gun in the hip holster pressed into his side and the one on his ankle kept his left leg still as he let it hang over the side. He remained as alert as ever, twitching with every rustle but resisting the urge to get up and look around.

It was a startlingly clear evening even though it had stormed just the day before, and slowly, unwittingly, old memories from years ago came back into his mind and mixed with the false, happy images his traitorous mind had conjured up in his sleep.

And even though they weren’t as clear in wakefulness as they had been in sleep, he was filled with a deep, aching longing for the times that have never been, for the happiness that had died with Haley, and for the love that had only lingered because of Jack.

Never had the service weapons he wore daily been such a source of temptation, not even in his darkest days after he swore to never taint with the legacy of what he might be able to use it to do and before Foyet happened.

But you know just how much worth your promises actually have.

Remember what happened in just the last nine months?

He turned his head to look through the near-darkness at Haley’s gravestone, looking to her for guidance.

The temptation only grew stronger, and the storm in his mind picked up the pace.

Is death not just a permanent sleep?

Would they find him like he found Haley, lying on his back and looking completely at peace? If it weren’t for the blood that would be pooling around his head saying otherwise, might they believe that he was just sleeping?

Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep, to remain in your head with only peaceful dreams to keep you company?

An hour went by, and slowly, a few raindrops started making it through the leaves to fall on his face. He forced himself up before the storm that was moving in from the east grew to be as strong as the one in his mind.

Soon, he was back in the apartment, his weapons locked in the safe, alcohol still stashed in the back of a cupboard, and the bed was feeling too big and too empty.

Exhaustion sunk deep in his bones, and just as the wind and rain outside picked up, the storm in his mind died down.

There was no fight against the sleep that was slowly claiming him, and he slipped into the dreams that felt like the familiar, comforting warmth of her smile.

I dream of you almost every night.

Hopefully, I won’t wake up this time.

#aaron hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #tw death #tw suicidal ideation #tw character death #tw guns #bau #criminal minds #tw alcohol #tw implied abuse

[heathridgemanor]

hello ive posted another fic its second person prison fic set during the episode Hell’s Kitchen heres the link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686504

please read the notes at the start and if any content within the fic are going to effect you in any way please don’t read it

if you would like to read it here instead, it will be below the cut :)

Not cozy at all (hard to live) || spencer reid || 1234 words

tw: suicidal thoughts, blood.

Sickening yellow that makes you wish they were just the same concrete grey that surrounds you. The bars. You tried to explain this to Emily; she didn’t understand. She never does anymore. The bars, the table, the wooden plank disguised as a soft wall between them in visiting hours; it’s chipped away at her ability to understand you.

Just like it’s chipped away at your sense of self.

Reading to just for contentment, chess is a game of strategic violence to show anyone clever enough that you are just as ruthless as them. Journaling doesn’t help but your head hurts too much to keep everything inside.

You talk to Rossi about trust, about change, about-

Lockdown. This is your chance. You look back at Rossi.

You dig through concern and sadness and are thankful for the lack of pity until you find it. Love. Love for you as if you are his own. You let it burn into your mind because you are never going to see it again.

Not if you can’t figure out another way.

You’re back behind the pealing bars and they somehow look more attractive now that you know what is going to happen the next time you leave them behind for the laundry. Your cell block isn’t on lockdown, you will still be required to perform your duties and you wish your duties were profiling as it once was.

You can’t even try to profile the countless white shirts you fold beyond stripping away individuality as the prison system intended. It’s even before your anger overtakes you that you know you are too far gone.

Luis spent his final moments choking on his own blood, fear flooding his eyes as he was forced to stare up at the reason he was killed. You shouldn’t envy him.

But you do, because he is free from this hell.

That’s how you know you are too far gone. 

That’s why you give up trying to come up with another way.

“There’s only so far I can go.” Shaw said.

“So can I,” you replied, and you’re talking about how you can’t go and fight them with a shiv that was once a toothbrush, but you can prove everyone who told you that you wasted your chemistry PhD wrong.

You can’t think, your mind is blank when you need it most. Sickening yellow bleeds into your mind, pooling into an ocean deeper than any on Earth, and your thoughts become chained and anchored to the bottom.

Pull. Pull. You can’t. You can’t hold your thoughts up the way Atlas held the heavens.

You aren’t Atlas.

He endured his punishment, you are going to kill yours.

Revenge, protection; the motive doesn’t matter. If your heart wasn’t slowly dying it would hurt with the knowledge that your friends would still believe you were a good person. That you were doing what you had to.

You don’t have to do anything. You can just die instead.

Baking soda. Bleach. Bars. Your three new best friends cheer you on as you look over your shoulder. For the first time, you are glad Gideon and Hotch and Morgan left, because they are the three people who were the polar opposites of your new friends.

You never want them to know you let your fear and anger cloud your judgement.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You can almost imagine it’s raining.

They killed Luis. 

Brush. Brush. Brush. 

Snow off a road, it’s colder now.

They deserve it.

You put the snow back where you found it and as you deliver it to the men God sent to test you, you wonder if it He will send them after you, or if you are not even worth that much trouble. You are quiet when you return to your cell, and you can barely hear Shaw asking What the hell did you do?

He’ll find out soon enough, when the rusting yellow bars and the concrete grey cell is decorated with red and your broken body becomes a centerpiece. You ought to let that happen.

It doesn’t.

Instead you can’t decide if you are being faced with a wrathful God or a godless existence as you find Malcolm on the floor, choking on his own blood. So much like Luis. The only difference being the method.

You still killed them both by proxy. You are no better than the man who put you here. Maybe he was right to.

The guards shove you behind the chipping steel and you think the yellow has never looked as dull as it does now. After days, weeks, months, it doesn’t matter, of being trapped by those bars, they have never looked so dull.

“Bad batch,” you hear the warden answer your question and you would have laughed at the understatement if two-

Three-

Four-

Shaw wasn’t coughing up blood, decorating his cell with half the paint that should be on your own. Maybe between them they will cough up enough blood for you to do as you should without harm to yourself.

You don’t know what makes you feel worse: that, or the fact you only feel bad that none of the people who were poisoned were your two targets.

Targets.

You had targets. 

You hope Gideon was right when he said This will hit you, because maybe the guilt will give you absolution. Fingers softly grip at your face; they almost don’t feel like your own and for a moment you can’t remember how you got here.

The only reason you don’t start trying to wake yourself up is because you know you aren’t lucky enough for this to be a dream.

You let the bars embrace you. You let the baking soda and bleach congratulate you. You don’t fight, you stay quiet, you keep your head down. You don’t want to; you want to scream and shout and start a fight but you don’t because you let your anger out once already and-

The fallout.

You wonder what you did to Mr Scratch for this to be his way of playing with you, and the only possibility you can think of is that he forced Hotch to choose, and he chose you.

Just as you chose him.

Just as you chose to give in.

It does hit you in the end, even if they didn’t die. Every time you pass the infirmary you feel a stab in the fractured remains of your soul. The fog of fear and anger clears up and you do feel bad about hurting those men, but not as much as you should.

Maybe you always knew this was how it was going to be. After all, you did tell Rossi There’s a helplessness in here that causes people to do things they would never consider and helplessness was really the only way you could describe how you felt.

How you feel.

Maybe you didn’t mean to hurt Shaw and Malcom and the others, but you did.

You did.

That’s what matters in the end, even if your family won’t see it because they are blinded with love the same way as you were with anger and fear.

Night falls, lights out, and your last thought before the sickening yellow consumes you in a way it shouldn’t in the dark is of an old friend who killed a man.

You wonder what Elle Greenaway would think of you nearly killing seven.

#ains’ fics #criminal minds #spencer reid #season 12 #prison spencer reid #12x18 #criminal minds hell's kitchen #aka one of my favourite episodes #this is kinda dark #and it was a pain to type because half way through i broke a nail BAD on my like first finger on my right hand aka the finger i use most #while typing so this was fun #anyways

[tabloidtoc]

Star, May 10

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Meghan Markle having twin girls (oops!)

Page 1: Famous for doing his own stunts, Tom Cruise helicoptered in to the tiny English village of Levisham to film aboard, or rather hanging off of, a vintage train and along for the ride was his Mission: Impossible 7 costar Hayley Atwell, who was spotted running along the top of the North Yorkshire Moors Railway car and while the pair, surrounded by crew and tech experts, were total pros, it's an open secret on set that their romance is going strong and Tom and Hayley hang out non-stop when the cameras are off and are pretty much joined at the hip but not in a showy, PDA way; it's a very discreet thing they've got going on -- off-camera, 58-year-old Tom and 39-year-old Hayley enjoy quiet nights holed up in Tom's London digs, eating meals specially prepared by his private chef and they'll watch movies or read books or just chill out doing their own thing -- chilling out isn't Tom's forte, as audio leaked of him berating the film's crew for violating COVID-19 protocols, but things have calmed down considerably as the spy flick, due in theaters May 2022, closes in on its wrap date, but the ensuing publicity push will put Tom and Hayley's relationship front and center, but don't expect the devoted Scientologist to jump on any couches (a la Katie Holmes) announcing wife No. 4 as Tom has learned the hard way about putting everything out there and getting picked to pieces; this time, it's all about subtlety

Page 2: Contents, Cher got up and personal with the World's Loneliest Elephant Kaavan, who she helped relocate to Cambodia

Page 3: Brie Larson in a swimsuit with butterflies on it during a getaway to Hawaii, with headphones at the ready Brooke Burke was itching to cut a rug with friends before teaching a silent disco cardio party at the Rafi Lounge in Malibu, Maria Shriver and Christina Schwarzenegger enjoyed some quality time on a stroll in L.A., Boy George sporting a bold look on The Jonathan Ross Show in London

Page 4: In a recent interview, AnnaLynne McCord revealed a shocking diagnosis: for years, the 90210 alum has been battling dissociative identity disorder (often erroneously referred to as multiple personality disorder) -- she told Dr. Daniel Amen she is absolutely uninterested in shame about opening up despite the stigma surrounding mental-health issues because that's how we get to the point where we can articulate the nature of these pervasive traumas as horrible as they are -- for her part, the 33-year-old traces back her troubles to sexual abuse she suffered as a child and as had many of the 200,000 people diagnosed with DID each year, she suppressed those horrific memories and it was only within the past few years that they began to resurface, largely after she sought treatment for PTSD related to another sexual assault and she doesn't have any memories of abuse until around 5, then from 5 to 11, she recounts incidents throughout and then, when she was 13, she has a singled-out memory and it was at that age that she developed what doctors call a second personality identity: as Little Ann, the Georgia-born daughter of a pastor said she was balls to the wall, middle fingers to the sky, anarchist from hell who will stab you with the spike ring that she wears and that helped her survive her nightmarish situation -- ironically, acting created the same dynamic, making it sometimes difficult for AnnaLynne to let go of characters she'd played and all of her roles were splits but she didn't even realize she was doing it

Page 5: Jennifer Aniston wasn't exactly touched when Justin Theroux gushed about how much he still loves her in the issue of Esquire -- complaining about feeling like a hermit during the pandemic, 49-year-old Justin nearly got misty discussing FaceTiming and texting his ex, saying he cherishes their friendship and they can not be together and still bring each other joy and he'd be bereft if they weren't still in touch and he'd like to think the same for her -- but 52-year-old Jen, whose love life has been low-key since the pair's 2018 divorce, has stayed on good terms with most of her exes including Brad Pitt but doesn't want anything more than a friendship with Justin and sure, it's flattering but she's just moved on and wishes he would too, and that goes double for some of her friends who griped that Justin tried to milk Jen's connections to further his career -- in the end, Justin needs to know he's got no chance whatsoever of winning Jen back and she doesn't feel anything remotely close to passion for him anymore

* Roseanne Barr showed off her newly svelte frame on Instagram -- back in 1998, she lost 100 lbs after undergoing gastric-bypass surgery, but yo-yo'd over the next decades but now she's determined to keep the weight off by totally changing the way she eats and she's growing her own fruits and vegetables and has a whole new appreciation of food

* Five months after he entered the Federal Correctional Institution, Mossimo Gianulli finished up his stint at his plush Hidden Hills home and now, the 57-year-old, who along with wife Lori Loughlin, pleaded guilty to paying a $500,000 bribe to get their kids into USC, can't wait to get back to normal and his biggest priority, besides spending time with Lori and the girls, is to get out there on the golf course -- the designer, worth a reported $70 million, still has to perform 250 hours of community service while Lori, who finished up her prison stint in December, is chipping away at hers, doling out meals at L.A.'s Project Angel Food -- Lori and Mossimo have resolved not to dwell on the past and they want to move forward with a positive and grateful attitude

Page 6: Fans of Angelina Jolie's stunts in movies like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and Mr. & Mrs. Smith are looking forward to her return to the screen as a wildfire fighter in Those Who Wish Me Dead and in the upcoming Marvel flick Eternals but 45-year-old Angie would rather be behind the camera and she explained the real reason behind her comeback is she loves directing, but she had a change in her family situation that's not made it possible for her to direct for a few years and she needed to just do shorter jobs and be home more, so she went back to doing a few acting jobs -- that change in her family situation, of course, is her divorce from Brad Pitt, ongoing since their 2016 split and with no bitter end in sight and it could drag on for years

* Catherine Zeta-Jones says it's no secret her 20-year marriage to 76-year-old Michael Douglas hasn't been easy and it wouldn't be normal if there weren't any ups and downs -- it's another Michael, her Prodigal Son costar Michael Sheen, who has friends whispering as both are Welsh and only a year apart, the two have been having a lot of fun shooting the serial-killer drama and they had never met before the series but they keep discovering how much they have in common -- while Michael, who has been linked with Kate Beckinsale, Rachel McAdams and Sarah Silverman, has been with Anna Lundberg for two years, friends can't help worrying because it's a little to close for comfort

Page 8: Star Shots -- Marlee Matlin kicked back during a portrait session in La Canada Flintridge in California, a loaded-down Irina Shayk in a Victoria's Secret photoshoot in NYC, Gavin Rossdale and his dog Chewy leaving tennis practice in L.A.

Page 9: Kelly Clarkson and her battle advisor Luis Fonsi on The Voice, John Stamos at the drive-in premiere of his new series Big Shot in L.A.

Page 10: Rosie Huntington-Whiteley toting her $3800 Bottega Veneta Shell bag in NYC, Niall Horan and Anne-Marie jumped into a classic Jaguar XK120 for a music video in Essex in England, Adam Driver as Maurizio Gucci on the set of House of Gucci on a bicycle in Rome

Page 11: Jay Leno takes a selfie with a fan, Kate Hudson and her daughter Rani busting out some mommy-and-me moves

Page 12: David Beckham filming a commercial for Maserati, Kaley Cuoco working out with ropes, a windswept Olivia Culpo held on tight to pup Oliver while enjoying a sunset ride aboard a boat named after her dog, Miles Teller looked both ways during a cruise in his blue Ford Bronco which is the same car he flipped in a 2016 accident

Page 13: Garrett Hedlund hit the pavement in a jog in Hollywood, Johnny Depp got behind the camera at the photocall for his film Minamata during the Barcelona Film Festival, friendly exes Sara Gilbert and Linda Perry masked up for a walk in L.A.

Page 14: 2021 ACMs -- country celebrates its best in Nashville -- Elle King and Miranda Lambert kicked off the 56th Academy of Country Music Awards by rolling up in a hot ride before performing, Blake Shelton, Dierks Bentley, co-host Keith Urban

Page 15: Maren Morris and Ryan Hurd performed together, Carrie Underwood

Page 16: Margot Robbie inline skating during a beach day in Malibu, Kate Beckinsale carrying her two cats and her dog as she tried to read, Chrissy Teigen and John Legend and their daughter Luna took a silly mid-game family selfie while playing Hedbanz

Page 18: Normal or Not Normal? A sleepy George Stephanopoulos was caught yawning on the Good Morning America set -- normal, Emily Blunt kicked back a little too much at The Jonathan Ross Show -- not normal

Page 19: With a $1400 rainbow Gucci sweater wrapped around her shoulders Selling Sunset's pregnant Christine Quinn with her dogs in L.A. -- normal, Chelsea Handler works out with her dog on her back -- not normal, Zach Braff stuck his tongue out as he took a silly selfie filming the Cheaper by the Dozen reboot -- not normal

Page 22: Fashion -- stars shine in metallic frocks -- Becky G, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Karen Gillan

Page 23: Miranda Lambert, Cynthia Erivo, Renee Zellweger

Page 26: Travis Barker didn't hold back in his birthday tribute to girlfriend Kourtney Kardashian -- sharing a series of sexy shots with 42-year-old Kourtney, including a NSFW video of Kourtney sucking his thumb and the rocker's risque pics quickly went viral, as did Kourt's TMI essay posted to her health and wellness site Poosh titled "Rough Sex: Love It or Leave It?" -- definitely leave it, if it were up to the pair's kids; 17-year-old Landon and 15-year-old Alabama, who are 45-year-old Travis' children with ex-wife Shanna Moakler, are mortified by their dad's behavior and like most teenagers, the two are active on social media and can't avoid the new couple's loved-up posts and Travis' kids are happy that he's happy, but the PDA is weird and takes some getting used to, while Travis' stepdaughter Atiana De La Hoya, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have a problem as the 22-year-old posted a heart-eyes emoji -- as for spending time with Mason, 11, Penelope, 8, and 6-year-old Reign, Kourt's kids with ex Scott Disick, the pair try to restrain themselves but still the lovebirds are happily oblivious and have a hard time toning it down and Kourt and Travis are just being themselves and going with the flow; they're in love and want the world to know it

Page 27: After 10 months of dating Australian model Vanessa Valladares, Zac Efron is officially back on the market -- 33-year-old Zac called it off with the 25-year-old after things got too serious, too soon and they spent every moment together and it was too claustrophobic for him, as Vanessa, who quit her job and gave up everything to be with Zac, became a fixture on set as he worked on Down to Earth with Zac Efron and he felt guilty that she was giving up her dreams and aspirations to be with him -- despite their split, Zac, who had put his L.A. home on the market and extended his stay in Australia after meeting Vanessa, has no plans to rush back to the States because he has made a lot of friends there and feels at home

* Like many planning their vows during the pandemic, Scarlett Johansson and Colin Jost had to get strategic when it came to their big day -- Scarlett said they wanted it to feel like it had an intentional intimacy as opposed to being something that felt like they were restricted by all these things -- the intimate and small event the pair threw was at their $4 million Palisades, N.Y. home in October and the ultra-private pair kept their guests safe, and the guest list was tiny and it was understated but lovely, just what they wanted -- now Scarlett and Colin have settled in to married life and Scarlett and Colin both like to steer clear of the spotlight which makes them perfectly suited for each other

* Vanessa Hudgens revealed the surprising way she was introduced to boyfriend Cole Tucker, who she's been dating since November -- 32-year-old Vanessa and 24-year-old Cole met on a Zoom meditation group and Vanessa admits that the Pittsburgh Pirates shortstop is just perfect for her and Vanessa and Cole, who debuted their romance on Valentine's Day, moved their budding friendship offline after feeling sparks via the virtual meeting app and they started communicating on their own and found out they have a lot in common -- now Vanessa, who dated Austin Butler for nine years before their 2020 split, is zooming ahead and she doesn't want to rush or jinx things, but she's saying Cole could be The One

Page 28: Cover Story -- Prince Harry and Meghan Markle: Twin Girls -- it was a somber, but loving occasion as the royal family celebrated the life of Prince Philip and amid the pomp and truly touching moments, like Queen Elizabeth sitting frail and alone, viewers waited to see what would happen when Harry and Prince William reunited for the first time since Harry and Meghan stepped down from senior royal duties in March 2020 and just weeks after their bombshell TV interview rocked the monarchy and tensions had been running high before the funeral, but everything went better than expected as William and Harry bonded and united in grief at the loss of their beloved grandfather, the estranged siblings along with William's wife Duchess Kate Middleton, waved away their waiting cars, opting to walk the half-mile from St. George's Chapel to Windsor Castle together and the trio chatted easily as they strolled -- back home in Montecito, Harry has been by pregnant Meghan's side around the clock making sure she takes it easy and the couple are in full-blown prep mode and Harry has been helping baby-proof their mansion and designing the nursery and Harry's been on his hands and knees making the house baby-friendly and he's got the latest, state-of-the-art safety devices installed around the pool -- Harry's promising visit with the royal family has given him one less thing to worry about, but still he and members of The Firm will always have different perspectives and after dismissing William and dad Prince Charles as trapped by the monarchy, Harry was persuaded by Kate to take the first step and she went up to Harry to suggest he have a heart-to-heart with William and their father, then she stepped back; Harry felt nostalgic being back home and it's a work in progress -- Harry made headway with his grandmother as well as he and Queen Elizabeth had a private meeting and spoke for three hours and seeing Harry's face made her smile again and Harry loves his grandmother very much and he's promised to bring his kids back to England later this year and he wants the Queen to spend quality time with them

Page 31: The Home Birth Brigade -- Who needs hospitals? These fearless celebrity moms opted to welcome their babies in the comfort of their own homes -- Ashley Graham, Eva Amurri, Hilary Duff, Gisele Bundchen, Gigi Hadid

Page 32: Kim Kardashian: Billionaire Bachelorette -- months after officially filing for divorce Kanye West, Kim is majorly ready to mingle -- Kanye's miffed that fans think he's the one who got dumped when he simply let her file first

Page 34: Not Boyfriend Material -- celebs share tales of dates gone bad, and guys who definitely didn't deserve a second chance -- Patricia Arquette, Mindy Kaling, Jenny Slate

Page 35: Awkwafina, Emma Watson, Kelly Clarkson

Page 36: For Mom -- for Mother's Day, express gratitude to the No. 1 lady in your life with the perfect gift -- Naomi Watts cofounded the ONDA Mama Box

Page 40: Entertainment

Page 48: Parting Shot -- in honor of Earth Day, Alison Brie kicked off the second year of the Planet Oat Project by planting trees at Rancho Sierra Vista -- the 38-year-old also took to Instagram to bring awareness to the wildlife restoration initiative, noting that a startling three million acres of trees in California have been destroyed by recent wildfires

#tabloid #grain of salt #tabloid toc #tabloidtoc #meghan markle #prince harry #prince william #duchess kate #kate middleton #queen elizabeth #kim kardashian #kanye west #alison brie #tom cruise #hayley atwell #mission: impossible 7 #mission impossible 7 #cher #kaavan #kaavan the elephant #annalynne mccord #justin theroux #jennifer aniston #roseanne barr #mossimo giannulli #angelina jolie #catherine zeta-jones #catherine zeta jones #michael sheen #travis barker

[hobiwonder]

Hi so I'm about to give up fanfiction for Lent do you happen to have any fic recs I can binge read over the weekend before I repent for 40 days? Also I love your writing sm thank u for sharing ur talent 😊💕

i am so sorry this is late but i thought ill actially look through what ive read and enjoyed A LOT before making a list!! so here it is in no particular order

Moth to Flame by bangtothetan on AO3 - this is so good omg. I found it a few months ago and it satisfies all my vampire cravings and the void left behind steph's sweeter than sweet :( Each boy is an absolute enigma in this series. The plot is subtle and executed excellently because nothing is just thrown in your face. It's all tied together as you keep reading so you never know too much about what is going to happen. Highly recommend. also v smutty so in a whore for this.

fluorescence by @jincherie - literally i will kill for any of her works but this one really just stabs me in the heart and pussy bc TAEJIN???? HELLOO????? these shy cutiepatootie hybrids fill the mommy dom void in me thanks.

fox rain by @cinnaminsvga & @jincherie - LISTEN,,,, these two are the absolute worst crackheads I know and bow that they've pulled this ridiculously funny mess out of their asses i cant NOT recommend. Each chapter focuses on a different boy and oh my god. please keep a spare pair of pants around for when you pee yourself from laughing so hard. it's so good. also unfollow zee if she makes hobi sad in this series thanks bye.

Bad for you by @yoonia - stripper jungkook. is there anything else do i need say??? dia's writing is incredible and just gets better with each update. also she has SO MANY AMAZING SERIES. BINGE BINGE BINGE.

tip 143 by @minflix - you all know elle by now from that iconic ice hockey au she wrote that had everyone dropping their panties so indulge in this hoseok camboy au!!! Im not completely finished w it yet so i'll scream more about this series later when i read the finale as well. but PLEASE READ ALL HER WORKS BC I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: THEY ARE SPICY

Snow, Don't tell by @stutterfly - oh my GOD!!!!!! this is a perfect in-bed binging story. I haven't read the other stories in this collab - yet. Jimin's character is so endearing and honestly one of my favourite oc characterisation. It's so fluffy and the right amount of smutty please read this holy shit

blood bound by @pasteljeon - its a namjoon wolf au and i have it on my to read list but what ive read so far makes me even more angry that i haven't finished it!!! size kink??? *takes deep breath in* *faints*

When the planets align by @mintedmango - you know what i love about alexa's works?? that they fail to ever FLOP in quality. another amazing series by her to binge. who doesnt want to have yoonminkook as their soulmates PLS

Nine one one by @yminie - pls all form a prayer circle for roshel to update this series w detective jimin!!!! seriously read this and bombard her with love for this fic and subtly ask when she's updating hehehehHEUEHEHEH

satisfy by @suga-kookiemonster - if you haven't read this yet then pls drop everything and read rn. ashley pls ill give u my first born just give me more of the kim brothers thanks bye

i have missed a lot probably and i'll remember while im in the toilet most likely but yeah have fun binging these fantastic stories xx

#fic rec

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Common ground

It started like any other, very early morning in Ishgard - with the exception there was a little bit of thin mist hovering above the ground. Also, the complete silence was broken by constant clatter coming from a certain viera's high heels, while she marched along the silent streets. "I don't believe this", Silke muttered to herself while heading towards the Blacksoul manor. "I can't focking believe this." She had clenched her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. The damn package Lareine had left into her apartment and which Silke had found had contained none other than the godsforsaken dress Silke had been dreaming of since she had seen a mannequin wearing it in a display window on the day before they started to sell it. It was the latest fashion: a turquoise green - and her absolute favorite hue too - long dress with puff sleeves, lace decorations, crystal pendant and everything, including also a soft, dark blue cloak. Silke had known at the first glimpse this delicacy had been something she would never be able to afford, and in low spirits had been leering at other people scurrying around and wearing it while looking fabulous. And now she miraculously had one. It also fit her like a glove. It was without a doubt the fanciest and best fitting attire she had ever owned. This was also the first day Silke had gone out while wearing it, and she was sorry for all those poor bastards who weren't there witnessing this majestic apparition flying by. Silke's first reaction after opening the package had been pure dismay. Then the tears had come. She had managed to hold them back almost for a month, but apparently this had been too much. Lareine certainly knew her the best, perhaps even better than Asagi - at least in some things. Namely, Silke hadn't told Lareine about wanting the dress. They hadn't even been talking back then. After crying for a while Silke had started to giggle in disbelief while thinking about the price she had seen in the display window. Lareine had probably burned all of her money into this attempt of hers to make amends. Silke wasn't the sort of person one could steer by bribes but still she couldn't have denied this had impressed her no matter how hard she had tried. Well, it wouldn't hurt if she gave Lareine at least an opportunity to explain herself while not being intoxicated, Silke thought while walking. And the explanation had better be a good one.

Before she actually noticed it she was already standing in front of the estate. To her surprise Silke noticed she was nervous. She wasn't sure was it more because she and Lareine hadn't met in weeks, or because this was the first time she came here alone. Before this it had always been with Lareine, or her and Arsene. Suddenly Silke felt like an intruder. The estate - not to mention its master - was very grim and repulsive, although usually Silke was drawn to and liked dark but elegant things. Silke walked through the garden to the front door, grabbed the doorknocker and smashed it three times. For a moment it was completely silent. Then she heard heavy, leisurely steps approaching inside. That wasn't Arsene, she thought. He was usually almost or completely silent. The thick, wooden door opened with a lazy creak and a moment later Silke was looking at Varg, who was dressed in white blouse, black vest and formal trousers. The only thing that broke the carefully polished whole was his hair he probably hadn't done anything else to except hastily trying to sweep it back before opening the door. He seemed bored, and stared at Silke with narrowed eyes, like he would've just found a cockroach from the floor and was wondering what to do with it. The fock was his problem as well? Silke had never been rude to him or anything. In fact, they hadn't had any negative interactions with each other and still Blacksoul seemed to loathe her. The sudden spike of annoyance drove her trepidation away, and Silke opened her mouth to blurt out something snarky just for the sake of it. However, before she had uttered even a sound, Varg stepped aside, leaving the door open, turned around and said to someone Silke couldn't see: "It is for you." Iris dropped a half-finished toast back onto plate with a soft 'thud' as she heard Varg's voice from the hallway. The fock someone wanted of her? Had she forgot a shift at work? No. The Second Circle was closed today. For some reason, Asagi had started to keep the place closed for three nights a week. It didn't bother Iris, though. Considering the fact she didn't have to pay the rent, she still made a decent amount of gil. With a drawn out sigh, she forced herself up from a comfy, upholstered chair, wrapping a black dressing gown tighter around her matching, laced lingerie, and made her way to the hallway. "...Ya have ani fockin' idea what time it is? If dis is some...", Iris never got to finish her sentence as her gaze locked on the creature standing in the open doorway. Iris felt like someone had just dropped a huge, cold stone into her stomach. And soon the stone shattered, giving birth to a swarm of blue butterflies that filled her, sending a shiver up her spine and making her head swirl. For a short moment she could do nothing but stare at Silke, her mouth slightly ajar, and taking support of the door frame, as she felt like she could pass out. "...Am... Am I a heckin' dreamin' 'ere...?” she tried to gather herself. "S... Silke? You... Fockin' 'ell, you... look smokin' hot..." Iris couldn't move her eyes from the girl. She had thought the dress would fit her former friend, but never had an idea just how good it would look on her. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up again. "Uhhh... I was... just 'aving tea. Ya... care to sit down with mi? J... Just tea ya know?" she waved her hand towards the kitchen. "...Just... sit down for a moment, okai? I need to explain a lot of shite... A lot..." Meanwhile Silke was still standing in the doorway, keeping her hands behind her back and squeezing them together so hard her knuckles were probably bone white. Her uneasy gaze was bouncing between Lareine, the marble floor, Varg, the door frame, the dark, wooden roof, then Lareine again and so on. It sure was a strange as heck feeling when one wanted to both embrace someone and never let go, and punch their teeth into their throat at the same time. Without showing any kind of emotion Varg casually loitered back into the kitchen. Silke could hear a couple of faint chinks, and soon he walked out of there, holding a fresh cup of black coffee with a thin trail of steam rising from it, and disappeared into the corridor leading upstairs, leaving the two vieras alone. Not wanting to let a somewhat awkward silence to continue for too long, Silke released her hands, feeling her blood starting to circulate in them again, and closed the heavy, wooden door behind her. She followed Lareine into the kitchen and sat opposite of her spot on a chair that had already been pulled from under the table. It was warm. Silke's first instinctive reaction was to lower her gaze onto the table, and she noticed there was some bread crumbs or something there. "Did I interrupt your breakfast?" she asked in a polite tone. Iris made her way to the stove, pouring herself some leftovers coffee, and started to prepare a cup of tea for Silke. “Ya aint interruptin’ shite, Silke...”, she muttered, her back turned to the other. “...I heckin’ missed ya.” The whole situation felt so fragile. Like a soap bubble, ready to break at any moment, and to be carried away with the wind. Silke's words had kept ringing in Iris' head - stronger than ever during the last three weeks. Do not ever touch me again. A scent of herbal tea with ginger filled the air, as Iris made her way to the table, carrying two cups. She placed the tea in front of Silke, before walking around the table and taking a seat from the opposite side. For just a fleeting moment, the whole room was silent like a wintry grave, except for the clinking of Silke’s spoon against the edge of her cup. “...I dunno where to even start... I'm sorry. The whole shite was a royal fock-up from mi...”, Iris started. While talking, she kept her gaze down in her coffee. This was hard enough on its own. Just seeing Silke's face there, in front of her. No. Iris felt she would break if she looked the girl in the eye. “...Was about to get ya dat book I... ya know. But I have no fockin’ idea what the name was. My memory of dat evening... It's like someone just splattered black paint all over it. I dunno if I even paid much attention to the name... Aniway. Ya just... gimme the name of the book, and I'll get ya a new one from mi next paycheck... Okai?” During a couple of weeks, Iris had gone through her head a thousand times what she would say if she ever met her friend again. And now that the girl was right there, she felt like someone had taken her brain out and replaced it with pillow stuffings. "...I cut mi medication back then, ya know... I'm back on it now, but... Yeah. Since dat, everythin' just went down a fockin' shitslide..." And without even thinking Iris told everything she could remember to Silke. She laid everything on the table before her. About the night at Sakuya’s place, and Tora, trying to take her through the night without the medical dose. And how that had ultimately led to Iris almost sleeping with the feral forcibly. She told about Sakuya, finding the two from her bed, sheets soaked with blood. And how that had led into a fight, and Sakuya almost stabbing Iris before Tora stopped her. She told Silke about the night when she got back to Ishgard, how she got thrown out by Varg, and all the way to the moment when she found her way to Silke’s doorsteps. Silke quietly sipped her tea while Lareine talked. Part of her had been expecting the similar kind of shite like during that morning a few weeks ago with some miserable excuse toppings, and she had even thought beforehand some equally sharp answers to them. But to her surprise the situation had taken almost a completely different direction from the start. She couldn't help but to listen with wide eyes while Lareine told her about the mess with Sakuya and Tora. Silke had met them only for a couple of times briefly and didn't know those two well, but based on what she knew, they were chill folks. A bit weird ones, but in a good way. Just the kind both Lareine and Silke had high possibilities to get along with. People like that were rare treasures, since Silke was more than painfully aware she and Lareine - and especially Lareine - didn't get easily along just with anyone. And now Lareine had blown it, too. “...I dunno whut the heck got into mi... The thin’s I said", Iris went on. "Fock, I dunno how I could throw such shite on ya... It just ‘appened! And the kiss... Fock’s sake, dat will never ‘appen again... I promise! I just...” Finally Iris raised her gaze to Silke, biting her lip, eyes gleaming with tears she tried to hold back. Silke tried her best to keep her own feelings in check, but she was extremely relieved there had been something else behind Lareine's behavior than just being drunk. Silke had always thought the ancient proverb of drunks 'I didn't mean it, I was drunk', wasn't valid. Since alcohol messed up functions of the frontal lobe, drunkenness actually made people more honest. That's why Silke took the words of drunkards to her heart. “...I just felt miserable... Been fockin’ bottlin’ up mi feelin’s for ya for heckin’ years... And the whole thin’ just blew up onto mi face... On yer face!” Iris sighed frustratedly and wiped a single stray tear onto her dressing gown's sleeve. Meanwhile Silke quickly put her cup back on the table and yanked her hands into her lap so that they wouldn't be shaking on the table for all to see. “...I fockin’ love ya, Silke... And I know I focked it all up big time... But... Can ya, like ever... in dat cute head of yer, even think about forgivin’ mi? I know its fockin’ lot to ask, but... Could we at least... like... heckin' try to build somethin' back? I cant live without ya, Silke...” After Iris finished her story, there was a long silence. Finally Silke cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. She thought she owed some explanations to Lareine as well, about something else, from the time they had even met. "Back when I was a kid, I used to wonder why monks and priests dedicated their life to their faith and retreated into some desolate monasteries in the mountains", she started silently. Immediately she had to clear her throat again. It felt like there would've been some lump. "During my teenage years in Kugane I found out I was gifted in channeling aether. It was a mindblowing experience for me." Silke made an instinctive silly face accompanied by a gesture with her hands portraying like her head would've exploded and brain splattered all over the place. Then she remembered the situation she was in and lowered her hands into her lap again. "Before that day, I had managed whatever tasks I had done only averagely. I had never been truly skillful at anything. I don't know have you ever experienced anything like it, Lareine... discovering your true calling." There was still some tea left at the bottom of her cup. It'd be shame if such a good tea went to waste just because she had forgotten how to swallow, Silke thought. "My family members have always been very supportive, and I'm so, so grateful to them...", Silke continued after a short while. "But pretty much everyone else - both my so called friends and romantic interests - have been against it. 'Are you reading again, Silke? You're so boring, have fun sometimes! You have lessons again, Silke? We haven't focked this week even once, just cancel them! You wanna follow your dream, Silke? But what about meee?'" she imitated in a mocking tone dripping with bitterness. She had to take a very deep, long breath before she went on: "I was so angry at them... part of me still is. But after it had happened multiple times I also realized perhaps it wasn't fair of me to expect anyone to spend their time with a bookworm who hardly has any time or interest in the things most of other people prefer. So... I decided I would never again give anyone a reason to blame me for being cold or heartless for following my path, feeling my lifeblood in my veins..." During talking Silke had been mostly just staring at the table, her cup or her hands. She grabbed the cup again and gulped the leftover tea down, hoping it would've been something more potent. She had read from somewhere mind was actually so powerful it could become drunk without alcohol if one believed in it strongly enough. It didn't work now, though. At least not fast enough. She should've probably started telling her brain she was drinking booze since they had started talking with Lareine. "You saying you love me, Lareine... I'm humbled by your words. And... so flattered it almost makes me speechless. But I could probably never give you what you want from me... As much as I care about you... so much I could maybe call it even love of some kind... and I would absolutely want to keep you in my life no matter how this conversation will end... but it still doesn't make me want to stray off my course." At that moment Silke could've otherwise been like an archetype of a fancy looking portrait made of some revered noble. She was sitting straight, hands squeezed together on the table in front of her, wearing her expensive dress, and her long, straight, ash black hair tied in a loose bun. Her voice was stable and formal like she would've currently been in a job interview. But this paintinglike whole was broken by a slow flow of tears. Iris kept the gaze of her purple eyes nailed to Silke, as the girl told her story. She knew about Silke's old lovers. What they had been after. How Silke had been unable to live up to their expectations, and in the end, always got left with her books and spells. Was Silke right though? Had she been right all along? Maybe she had noticed all Iris' attempts to get close to her, and had kept offering cold shoulder to protect Iris from a let down. Damn girl thought she knew better what Iris needed. Bullshite. She took a sip of coffee, sniffing her nose at it. For some reason, the coffee had suddenly started to taste so bitter on her tongue. "Stop with da Lareine-crap, Silke... It's Iris. Its startin' to...", but before she got any further, she noticed Silke's tears. The tears on those pale cheeks were like a raging river for the flames of her frustration, putting them out in a heartbeat. Without thinking, Iris got up, walking around the table and searching for a tissue from the pocket of her dressing gown. She cursed in her mind as she came to a conclusion both her pockets were empty. Silke couldn't help but to frown slightly at the remark about the name. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, not giving a damn did it make her look like a panda bear with all her smeared make-up or not. The Iris thing was still partly a mystery to her. Silke had heard some people calling Lareine Iris sometimes, but she had thought it was a nickname they had given her. However, at times it seemed like a hot potato and Silke had never found a proper moment to ask about it. And mostly she had just forgotten the whole thing until it popped up again later. With a couple of quick steps, Iris suddenly made her way to the stove, picking up a towel from the hangar, and walking back to her friend.

Do not ever touch me again. Iris dropped the towel on the table, in front of Silke, before taking a step away from the girl, and leaning onto the table. Didn't Lareine like her own name? Silke thought to herself. She knew Varg had given it to her. Or was the name itself fine but Lareine just didn't like it because she didn't like the one who had given it to her? Or did it have something to do with her odd shifts? Silke's thoughts were interrupted by a towel that was dropped in front of her. She grabbed it and wiped her face, more thoroughly this time. "...Heck... I'm sorry, Silke... I do love ya... I fockin' love ya more than anythin' I have ever loved. And its scarin' the livin' shite outta mi. Yer all I 'ave been able to think durin’ these past weeks. And...", she sighed deeply, tapping the surface of the table with her long nails. "...However dis ends, I too want to keep ya in mi life. Abso-fockin'-lutely! And 'onestly? Why the heck ya keep thinkin' I'm tryin' to get ya stray off ya course? Haven't I fockin' supported ya durin' these years we have known? Not heckin' once I have told ya to drop yer classes and be with mi. Have I?" Sitting this close to Silke made her blood burn, like a dragon's breath. Like someone had drawn out her blood and replaced it with molten iron. Tears on Silke's cheeks made it just worse. Oh, how much Iris wanted to wrap her arms around this beautiful creature, and never let go. Protect her from all the heart-ache and poison-dripping words the girl got from people. But could she protect Silke from herself? The idea terrified her to the core, where the emptiness was lurking, ready to be set free. Ready to consume everything good and beautiful Iris had laid her hands on. And like speaking of a demon, called by her thoughts, the emptiness rose its head. A fleeting thought. To lift Silke on this very table, and rise her up to the heavens. Fill the emptiness just for a moment. Iris swept the thought on side, like it was an annoying insect, trying to get into her drink. The 'ell is wrong with me?

"I... think I might 'ave burned our heckin' loveboat on dat evenin' at yer place, huh? I kinda thought so. And 'onestly? I did not expect ya to just forgive me... Heck, I'm glad over mi head ya even came. At least let me tell ya I'm sorry. If we... can build somethin' out of this... Even an echo of whut we had. It would be...", Iris felt salty tears burning her eyes, and she had to work hard to hold them back. She couldn't cry now. Not now. Silke needed her. "...But tell mi this... okai? Ya have like... Whut? Six? Seven bells a day in dat class of yer? Mages 'ave relationships. Whut the heck is keeping ya from havin' one? Fock's sake, people have careers, Silke! And still dey have love-life. Heck, some might even have couple of kids! How come all yer time goes into studyin'? And... I'm not 'ere keepin' ya from followin' yer dreams! Nor strayin' ya away from yer path.. But really? Ya gotta 'ave somethin' else in life... A fockin' relationship is no full time job... Don't ya ever feel like ya just want someone to wake up next to ya in tha mornin'? Be dere when ya get home... Fockin' worship dat form of yer! Don't get mi wrong, but always when ya talk about damn relationships, it's like yer talking about some fockin' chore! Dats somethin' I will never get in ya... But ya may be right though! Maybe we were never made for each other in more wais than friends..." As the words left Iris' lips, she felt like they ripped a part of her soul with them, and scattered it into the wind. She felt the emptiness' low growl deep in the depths of her heart. "No, you haven't told me to relinquish anything, ever", Silke admitted, sniffed and put the towel back on the table. "Not even once... And for that I was very grateful. That's why I felt so happy around you. ...Until the last time we met." There was a short pause. "According to what you said to me back then I understood you've been just keeping up a facade, pretending to accept me, but in reality you had been hecking frustrated all the time. And that it took a couple of years and a few bottles of booze for you to gather courage to say it straight to my face." Silke also knew more than well other mages had relationships and whatnot. And it felt like everyone would've been constantly pointing out she should as well. Heck, she wasn't even certain did she want to. So far she had been trying out things mostly because she had been told to, not of her own volition. It wasn't only romance, but other aspects of life as well. Silke had been purely horrified when people of her age or younger had been saying they 'felt like settling down' and then got pregnant or married. Or worse: both! She felt like a caged cardinal craving to take off and disappear into the limitless blue, but was constantly told to stay in her cage. Because it was good for her. Because it was appropriate. Because others thought she should. It all made her so frustrated, baffled and furious before all, wanting to flap her wings and peck the bars even harder, not giving a damn about her pretty plumage wearing off of all the struggling and revealing blood, tendons and flesh beneath. What a useless, weak body and mind of a bird, she shuddered at the mental image. A demon or dragon would've fit her better. Like the great Hraesvelgr and Nidhogg. Oh, what magnificent creatures. Silke shook her head, forcing her thoughts back into the moment. "Haa, you are kinda right... about the chore thing", Silke explained after the silence had gone on for long enough without her noticing. "At least partly. And for gods' sake don't get me wrong! I do enjoy the company of other people. But for some reason I... don't seem to crave for it as much as most. It often feels like... there wouldn't be enough hours in a day for me. Like... I feel like I've just gotten started with some interesting transmutation or experiment or an old scroll and gotten all pumped up, like yesss this is the stuff, and then I notice it's already four in the focking morning and I should've gone to sleep hours ago, and should be at a lecture at eight. And then some time ago one of my professors noticed me either sitting in the library or using the chemistry class long after everyone else had left and offered me a part time job in their service, saying I could 'put all of that enthusiasm into a good use and earn some gil while at it.' And of course I accepted! She could've as well shown me a jam-filled doughnut with thick frosting and lots of sprinkles and asked me do I want it or not. And I was like 'No good ma'am I definitely don't want your delicious looking doughnut that smells like ambrosia from the heavens! Just hand it over!'" When Silke noticed she had started to get worked up again, she took another deep breath and cast a glance to a partly withered sunflower on the other side of the kitchen window. It was a stained glass window, very pretty, and looked very expensive. Silke tried to make sense of the patterns and what they presented. "Then at some point, after sedating my curiosity, I get an urge to go somewhere and meet people... and then I of course just go, and usually it's really fun. But when the urge to leave emerges, I rather go while I'm still in high spirits, and not trying to stay there just for the sake of staying, and being only half present. It seems like... others see it as rude I don't meet them so often, or that I don't stay for as long as they'd want, but I think it'd be even more rude towards my companions if I didn't give them my full attention and live my time with them to the fullest." Silke slowly turned her gaze from the window back to Lareine. "I'm terribly sorry, I started to babble again", she hissed while grimacing. "What I'm trying to say is... I've seen... many times... the way you want to live your life, La... Iris. You remind me of a shooting star or comet, roaming its way through the sphere and shining brightly, attracting attention and admiration. Meanwhile I'm some distant star twinkling leisurely in the horizon, just above the trees, and one would need a telescope to see it properly. As much as I don't like it, our preferences seem to be like fire and ice, godsdamnit! It's a bad omen!" "What the fock, Silke?" Iris couldn't help herself. "Yer not a distant, meaningless, piece of shite-star somewhere in the heckin' horizon! Yer the damn brightest star dere is for mi! All the time, after I came to Ishgard... Damn, I guess maybe even before dat... I 'ave felt like I'm walkin' in a dark, swampy forest with no wai out! Not until I met ya, Silke!" without even noticing it, Iris had taken a step closer to her friend, now standing only a step away. "...Yer mi guiding fockin’ light in this shitefest we call life! Ya shine down on mi, and help mi keep goin’! But if ya leave mi now... Whut do ya think it will do for mi? I’ll be damn lost in the darkness again! Don't ya dare to call yerself some useless fart-star in mi company ever again... Okai?” What was this girl even thinking? Silke had always had low self-esteem in all other areas, except her magic. In which her pride was clear. Maybe that was why Iris somewhere deep inside... some part of her disliked Silke’s magic. Magic took everything from her. Iris hated all the people who pecked at Silke for how she was... what she did. If she knew she could get away with it, without causing Silke any trouble, Iris would've gotten rid of every damn arsepluck who dared to say bad things about this goddess among women... And almost as much as Iris hated the people making Silke’s life hell, she hated the girl doing it to herself. “And I told ya already!” Iris turned around, bending over, leaning her elbows onto the table and bringing her head on the same level with Silke’s. “...I dropped mi medicine back den! It... I dunno whut I was sayin’! But whutever it was, it was not true... Ya really think, I would ‘ave just... heckin’ bottled it all up for two years? Tell mi... Would ya waste yer time on someone ya think is just frustratin’ company? Hold up a damn facade for such person? Dats fockin’ waste of time!" Quite many people seem to be doing it, actually, Silke was tempted to say in her most annoying, know-it-all tone, but she bit her tongue. "Yeah, yer right about bein' frustrated, though...", Iris continued. "I might have thought about it time to ‘ime... Especially when ya fell asleep on mi...  How do ya think it made mi feel? How it made mi look?” She let out a shivering sigh, shaking her head. “And whut the heck is dis mumbo-jumbo about bad omens? ‘ow are we a bad omen? We... We are made for eachother, Silke! I love ya, sweetie! ‘ow can dat be a bad omen in ani way? A... And ya just... Ya just said ya love me, ‘aight? So... I... I dont see whut’s the matter! I just want ya to be damn part of mi life, Silke...” As Iris talked, she could almost feel Silke’s breath on her face. Feel the faint scent of a flowery perfume. The emptiness inside her fought, tearing it’s shackles, and Iris had to close her eyes for just a moment, to keep it in check. “... And I got a job and everythin' ya know! I'm really doin' mi fockin' best! ...I just hope we could get even something back... Of whut we had before all dis..." Her fight against the tears seemed to be falling for a loss, as they started to run freely, messing her dark makeup, and painting dark lines onto her pale cheeks. "...I heckin' love ya, Silke..." Silke lowered her reddish eyes from Lareine to her own hands again and started wringing them compulsively. What the heck was Lareine babbling about? They usually understood each other perfectly, but sometimes this happened. They had a language barrier or something between them. Silke had just announced she wanted to keep Lareine in her life and Lareine was already talking about Silke 'leaving' her. Or was this about that inexplicable concept of being 'just friends' again? Silke had never understood it. She didn't have any ranks for the people precious to her. They were all equally important, just in different ways. To her, there was no being 'just' something. "Once again I'm flattered you've thought of me so highly, and that I've been able to be of help to you. But do you have any idea what kind of contract you'd want to scrawl your name on, princess?" Silke almost whispered. "Let's imagine for a moment we'd live together, okay? I would leave very early for school or work, and return very late in most days. We would see each other only slightly more often than nowadays", she started to list. "You sleep with every second person you find attractive. I couldn't care less about such things. I've done it for a few times only to please my partners. It's like housework - a necessary evil - and even more boring than housework to be honest...", she couldn't help but to roll her eyes. Silke's gaze wandered around the table and fixated on her empty cup. There was some skillfully painted, pink and white roses on it, and the cup's handle and rim were gilded. She couldn't help but wonder about the possible ratio of materials to get such a perfectly balanced hue. "As you know already, I'm striving to become an archmage, and alongside that, an alchemist", Silke continued after a short while. No more tears were coming out and she noticed her voice was saturated with perseverance and finality like always while talking about the subject. "If they call me in the middle of night... or party or dinner or whatever and there's some emergency or major breakthrough, I'll most probably be going. If they need someone to test a new portal or check stability levels of a tear in the rift, I'll be the first one volunteering. If there's demons, voidsents or extremely powerful, magical beasts causing trouble... well, you know how it goes: I will be there." Silke turned her head slightly towards Lareine, but didn't look at her directly, just from the corner of her eye. "Is that truly what you want in your life... Iris?" Suddenly Iris started to regret she ever corrected the name. When they were talking about love earlier, Silke repeating Lareine’s name over and over again had made Iris feel so miserable. Almost like her beloved was confessing her love to another woman, right there under her very eyes. But now? As things had started to take turn to the south again, it would've been so much easier to take all hits while hiding behind the mask of unsuspecting Lareine. Iris felt like she was swimming in a bottomless lake. And every sentence Silke weaved, every word leaving those pretty, thin lips of hers, felt like a creature of the deeps, grabbing Iris’ leg and pulling her down under. She tried to fight back, gasp for air, but it was no use, and soon she would just give up. Sink into the deep dark embrace of nothing. “No...”, the words left Iris’ lips, without her even noticing it. She straightened her back, and staggered to the stove. Her head was spinning. A numb hand took a grip of the teapot and filled it with fresh water, placing it on the stove. Flames in the fireplace were slowly withering away and dying, so she picked up a couple of logs, throwing them into the fireplace to keep the flames alive. Deep down Iris hoped she could do the same for her own, withering heart. The silence in the room was like that of funerals, and that's how Iris felt. A funeral. She was about to bury something very dear to her. Put it into rest. After a while that felt like an eternity in purgatory, the boiling of water broke the silence. Iris moved the pot off the stove, reached for a bottle of rum, and a tiny jar of honey, mixing them into two fresh cups, and filling to the brim with boiling hot water. She walked up to Silke, placing the cup in front of her before returning to her own chair with hers. “Ya will always be pickin’ yer damn archmage dreams over mi, huh?”, she noted while taking a sip. The steaming, hot drink burned her mouth, but it was better than the feeling of emptiness inside her. “...Don't ya get mi wrong, sweetie. I'm heckin’ proud of ya. Yer gonna be the most kick-ass fockin’ archmage dey have ever seen from ‘ere to far East. And damn I wanna be dere to see tha faces of yer fellow students, when dey see it. After all dey ‘ave said about ya... And ‘ey, maybe I dont ‘ave to use Mori’s portals animore den. I don't trust the portals of dat lass in the slightest...” Taking another sip, Iris placed the cup onto the dark, wooden table, returning her gaze to her friend. “Ya just... try to heckin’ understand how dis feels to mi. I ‘ave been fockin’ eartips deep in love with ya for damn two years. And now? It’s just kinda all shatterin’ in pieces in front of mi. Like dat damn painted glass window I broke on dat night. I... I feel like bein’ a damn child again. ‘ave I told ya about mi mom, Silke? She... was a useless dreamer-type, fillin’ mi head with stories about lands like those from fairytales dat waited for us outside of tha forest. And silly me even believed those words. ...Then we came to Limsa Lominsa. And instead of my fantasy fairyland, I got a stinkin’ city, full of cut-throats and rapists... Mi damn world just fell apart.” Iris’ lips curled into a smile of a kind. “...Ya know whut I promised to miself back den? While burnin’ mi mom’s corpse? To never let anyone fill mi head with shite of fairytales ever again. And for the fockin’ past two years... I ‘ave done it miself. The apple sure doesn't drop far from the damn tree...” Iris emptied her cup with one single gulp, feeling the rum burning its way down her throat. “I'm heckin’ sorry, Silke. I don't wanna lose ya. Maybe our damn lovestory was not written in the stars after all... But I still love ya, gal. And if I can't compete with ya silly dreams... Damn... I’ll be dere to cheer for ya, when ya make dose dreams reality!” A warm smile on Iris’ lips, hid behind the emptiness pulsated and growled, and finally broke its shackles. Silke tried her best to think about something extremely annoying and cling to it with all her might to prevent her flow of tears she could feel pounding behind her eyes like roaring waves against a dam that was about to break. She would've so much wished Lareine to agree, but deep down she knew it wouldn't have been fair. If Silke had tried adapting to live the wild life Lareine was after, it would've been like a fish trying to climb a tree. And if Lareine for her part had shut herself into libraries or ancient tombs and ruins, or Silke's silent apartment with Laurence, she would've eventually felt as caged as Silke currently did with generally everything. "If you want to put it that way", Silke agreed silently. If she wasn't able to have both, magick would be her choice, now and forever. "I am trying to understand. I think I even do to some extent. And I truly do wish I could give you what you seek because I want for your happiness. But I don't think I have it in me. I wouldn't want it to go to the point we desperately tried to mix our fire and ice just because it seems nice on the outside and eventually ended up hating each other for it." At least they were no longer at sixes and sevens. That alone eased the giant vortex beneath her calm surface at least some. Like Lareine, Silke also emptied her cup with one go, not caring although it made her feel like she was swallowing lava. Feeling like she didn't have anything to say anymore Silke glanced absent-mindedly outside. It had gotten really foggy. Then she turned to look at the clock sitting on a cupboard nearby. "I think I should go", Silke stated formally, and calmly stood up. "Not for work or school this time, though. It's my laundry room turn soon and I have only an hour to wash almost my entire wardrobe. Hahah!" She let out an awkward laugh and bowed politely immediately after. "Thank you for the tea, Iris. It was absolutely delicious. See you around!" I must get out, she thought to herself. I must get out right now.

Silke was able to get past Lareine before she saw Silke's face starting to twist, but before Silke got out of the kitchen, she almost collided with Varg, who had returned from upstairs, his hands full of an empty cup and briefcase, and this time with tidied hair. Silke wasn't fast enough to hide her facial expression, which made the old au ra give her a long, curious look. "Excuse me", Silke almost whispered, not lowering her wavering gaze from his chilly, black eyes, but in her mind she added a sarcastic 'wink wink nudge nudge.' His only answer was a slight frown and a calm step aside so that she could pass. This felt so wrong, Iris thought while watching Silke getting up and leaving. So wrong. Deep down Iris knew this would be for the best for both of them. Like Silke had said, trying to mix fire and ice would never end well. Still, she could not look at her friend’s back as she was walking out of the room. Silke was acting... weirdly? "Silke!" Iris shouted after the girl. But as the other didn’t pay any mind to her voice, she quickly rushed around the table and towards her friend. Usually Iris had an excellent balance. She had been honing it for years on the streets of Limsa Lominsa. Yet now, her foot got stuck around a leg of the chair that was pulled out, and the slippery marble flooring did the rest. With her hands flailing, she tried to regain her balance, but it was no use at this point. With a loud crash from a falling chair, and a series of colorful curses, Iris fell on the floor, just barely missing Varg, who had just walked in, looking annoyed. Without wasting any time, she jumped back on her feet and took a couple of quick steps, reaching her friend just before she reached towards the door. Do not ever touch me again... Do not ever touch me again... Do not ever touch me again... SHUT THE FOCK UP!! Iris wrapped her arms gently around Silke from behind. The hold was light like butterfly’s wings, and Silke could've easily walked out of it if she had wanted to. Iris buried her face into Silke’s long, velvety hair, inhaling her scent. The familiar scent of flowers, ink and parchment felt so good. Like someone pulling Iris out of a freezing water and wrapping her into a blanket. It felt like home. With one arm around Silke’s chest, and another around her neck, crossing in front her, Iris could feel Silke holding tears. So this was why she was acting so weird? Iris was about to say something about it, but decided not to. She would let Silke have her tears. The girl had cried enough. After just a fleeting moment of standing there, Iris rose her chin, whispering softly into Silke’s long ear. “...Let mi walk ya ‘ome, okai? Just... Just gimme a moment to dress up. I can help ya with dose laundry of yer, okai? We’ll get it done in no time, the two of us? Yes?” While talking Iris brushed the back of her index finger up on Silke’s jawline. “I cant just let ya walk awai from mi like dat, Silke. Let mi give ya a ‘and. I ‘ave a day-off and all dat shite. Got nothin’ to do aniway...” Lareine's careful hug made Silke accidentally vibrate, but instead of dashing out through the half opened door, she had frozen on the spot, held by her own hand squeezing the metallic doorknob. It felt icy to touch, but Silke used it as an anchor to hold herself together. It had been embarrassing enough to weep - multiple times even - in front of Lareine, who was the only one apart from Silke's family members who had ever seen her cry. But even more humiliating it would've been in front of strangers or people Silke didn't care about. Although Blacksoul seemed to care equally little about the two vieras and their personal mess, just his presence in the next room was enough for Silke to remain as stoic as she possibly could. First she had interrupted their breakfast and now she was blocking the doorway with her carcass so that he couldn't leave for work. She painstakingly lifted her free hand and grabbed Lareine's arm she was holding around Silke's neck, squeezing it almost equally hard as her other hand had clung on the doorknob. If the place had been more appropriate, Silke could've just stood there forever. Though she wasn't quite sure what exactly was it that prevented her from running: surprise, bliss or horror. Another awkward laughter - a bit more authentic this time - escaped her lips. "If that's how you truly want to spend your day off, who am I to forbid you, princess?" Silke asked in a somewhat swollen voice. "I just hate housework. If I was some rich bastard who had enough gil to wipe their arse with it, I'd gladly pay for someone to take care of that stuff for me." “... Either dat, or ya could juust... leech yer wai into a manor wid butler, ya know?” Iris closed her eyes just for a moment. Silke’s tight grip holding her arm was like that of a valkyrie, rising a fatally injured warrior from the mud and blood, carrying her on the other side. Iris felt peace. For the emptiness inside though, the touch was like an iron maiden. Shutting its doors around it, draining its strength away. Iris could still hear the growling through that metallic face, frozen in a calm expression, but as long as Silke was holding onto her, she felt like the doors would stay closed tight. Silke half accidentally let out another laughter - aghast this time. "You kidding me, right?" she splurged, lowering her voice into a whisper. "The miasma in here is just -" She bit her tongue again before she could finish the sentence. Asagi and Blacksoul weren't on best terms with each other, and Silke had decided that despite her hanging out with Lareine and Arsene, she'd make sure she at least wouldn't be the one throwing fireballs into a powder keg. She had actually been trying somewhat to extinguish the flames, because she was tired of both Asagi and Varg's disapproval of her just because she was Asagi's sister and Lareine's friend. After a moment Iris pulled her arm away gently, taking a step back. “...Just a moment, sweetie... I will be back before ya know it!” And with those words, she rushed upstairs, her long dressing gown flowing like a cape after her. Meanwhile Lareine was getting dressed upstairs, Silke was wringing her hands behind her back again, trying to recover from her and Lareine's recent conversation and to come up with some superficial and boring subjects for small talk just in case. It transpired she didn't need them. Not a long after, Iris hurried back downstairs, now fully dressed in a leather jacket, a top with skull pattern, tight leather pants and a pair of ankle boots. “Blacksoul! I'm goin’ out! May stay over night, I dunno... No drinkin’! Promise!" she yelped at the old au ra while passing the kitchen door on her way back to Silke. “Righto! I'm ready!” Iris hurried to her friend's side, quickly hooking her arm with the other’s. “Have ya eaten, by tha way? Because I can almost bet mi next paycheck ya have not... So dat in mind, lets take a 'urn through Jeweled Crozier and get sum food stuff, okai? I’ll make a dinner for ya after we are done wid tha laundry shite! Hm?” Iris felt Silke’s tension while their arms were locked together. Her friend had been through so much. All the things Silke had said kept running through her head, but for now? Silke was all that mattered. Whatever happened, Iris would make sure this beautiful girl, who was like a ghost from the eastern legends, would never have to cry because of her. Ever again. "I've eaten only some instant ramen last night", Silke answered when they had already walked out of the estate. Immediately after she furrowed in disbelief. "...You? Dinner? You mean... You can actually cook something and not just boil water?" The thick fog soon swallowed the two vieras. If some citizen had been within hearing distance, they wouldn't have seen a thing, but had only heard some extremely loud chatter and banter somewhere from the whiteness.

With @lareine-kira​ :3c

#storytime #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #viera #Silke Doomflare #Lareine Kira #rp

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 29

Chapter Summary -  Danielle and Tom meet up for something to eat, doing everything they can to avoid the one topic both are terrified to broach, and when they finally do, what happens?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“Your usual?” Tom asked as he parked outside the restaurant he had told Danielle about.

“This place does takeaway?” she asked, looking at the upmarket establishment.

“Welcome to North London, once you’re willing to pay, you can get effectively anything.” He shrugged.

“Seriously, there’s no need for something this fancy.”

“It’s not really, I mean takeaway is takeaway. So I’ll ask again, your usual?”

“Please.” She decided not to argue.

“I’ll order and come back out.” He got out of the car and went inside, leaving Danielle to wait anxiously as she awaited his return. She jumped considerably when he hopped back into the car. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her somewhat startled at her reaction.

“Yeah, sorry, I was so busy thinking about other things.” she dismissed.

“Filming hours can be insane, can’t they?” He nodded understandingly.

“Yeah.” She gave a half-hearted smile.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I…I’m just worried.”

“About what?”

“What if we’re spotted?” she asked, looking around the car.

“You really don’t want to be in the spotlight, do you?” he asked, somewhat crestfallen.

“Some people aren’t made to be in front of the camera.” She replied.

“I’m really sorry for being the reason you were thrown in front of them the night we…” he cleared his throat. “I actually spoke to Luke today, after you were talking to him I mean.”

“Yeah?” she asked, concerned.

“He said you were under the impression I only kissed you because I was drunk.”

“Well, you weren’t sober.” She argued.

“But I didn’t kiss you because of that. I mean, it helped, because I was too cowardly to do it without some assistance, but I…”

“We should talk about this later.” She cut in, “After we eat.”

Feeling somewhat downtrodden, Tom simply nodded in return. “I better go see if the food is ready.” It had only been a few minutes since he had ordered, so there was no chance the food was ready, but it allowed him to escape the atmosphere in the car.

When he returned, the tension was lessened, though still somewhat there. “Smells good.” Danielle smiled taking the food.

“It’s better than good.” Tom grinned, grateful for her to take the focus off the conversation that had caused them to become somewhat awkward. The car remained in silence until they got to Tom’s home and he closed the front door. “I’ll get the plates and everything if you want to get a bottle of wine from the fridge.”

“I’m okay for alcohol thanks.” He looked at her for a moment. “I have work again at seven; the last thing I need is to be somewhat groggy, we are doing the fight scene tomorrow.”

“Right, so, shit, I don’t have anything nice.”

“It’s fine Tom, water is fine.” She smiled.

“Shit, I should go to…”

“No, Tom. Seriously, water is fine, please stop, I just want the food.” She half-laughed, well used to Tom and his need to over-perfection.

“Sorry, I just wanted this to be nice.”

“It is, or it will be when you cease torturing me by having me smell it but not taste it.” She smiled. “I’m starved.”

“Right, fuck. You get the drinks, I’ll get plates.”

“Do you want wine?”

“No, I will drive you back to wherever you’re staying, so I need to be sober.”

“Right, so what will you have?”

“Water too.”

“Should I go into a longwinded rant about you wanting water?” she grinned.

“I am just trying to be a good host.” He grumbled.

“You are Tom, and how much do I owe you for…” The indignant look he gave her caused her to stop talking. “I’ll get the next one so.”

“Deal.” He agreed with a nod. “Seriously Elle, you need to let people treat you.” He stated, handing her a plate and cutlery. “Speaking of your name, why does everyone call you ‘Danni’ now?”

Danielle groaned as she placed the naan bread on her plate. “I fucking hate it, but no one will just call me by my name.”

“So not your doing?” Tom asked, getting his chicken out of its container.

“No, I hate that name.”

“More than Elle?”

“No, Elle I like, not because of the name or anything, but because it actually comes from those who care about me, and not because some people are too lazy to say my name.”

Tom chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Why did you call me Elle, to begin with? I mean, I know it was you that started calling me that.”

Tom shrugged. “Can’t remember, just thought of it one day and thought you looked like an Elle.”

“Well, I beg to disagree.” She smiled, sticking a fork into some of Tom’s food and eating it. “Wow, that is good.”

“Told you.” He beamed in return.

They ate the meal in relative silence, both not wanting to broach the issue that was on both of their minds. By the end of it, when Tom was bringing their plates to the sink and neither of them had actually said anything regards it. Tom stared at the plates for a moment, knowing that soon he would have to return Danielle to her hotel, otherwise, she would be exhausted at work the next day, but he had yet to speak to her regarding the kiss that they’d shared. Looking at himself in the reflection of his window, which acted almost like a mirror with the darkness outside, he tried to build up the courage needed.  A sound from his phone caught his attention, looking at it, he groaned.

Benedict – So, what happened?

Tom – Nothing.

Benedict – What?

Tom – Nothing has happened because we haven’t discussed it.

Benedict – It’s ten at night.

Tom – Yes, I am aware, I can read time Ben.

Benedict – So grab the situation by the balls Tom and talk to the woman before she dies of old age waiting for you to do something about it. Where is the cocky shit that was all bite when the world was trying to tell him about his terrible girlfriend, now you have a chance with a good woman and you are dallying around like you have forever?

Tom – What if she rejects me?

Benedict – Then at least you fucking tried, get on with it man.

“Tom?” Danielle came into the kitchen, a little startled to see Tom on the phone. “I…well I better be off so.”

“What, no, you can’t yet.” He threw the phone on the counter.

“It’s getting late, and well, you’ve been hiding in here for twelve minutes.” She stated, looking at the clock.

“I…Look Elle, can we talk about…”

“I rather not thanks.”

“But we need to.”

“No, we don’t. It was a mistake Tom; I shouldn’t have allowed you to…” Tom took large steps until he was standing right in front of her, silencing her. “I…”

“I haven’t had anything to drink.” He stated quietly.

“I know.” She nodded.

“So this time, that isn’t an excuse.” He reached down and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Elle.”

She swallowed, knowing what was to come, but she didn’t want to stop it, as much as she thought she should. When his lips descended on hers again, she sighed lustfully, in truth, she had missed them ever since she had last had them against hers. “Tom, Tom please.”

“Please Danielle, I can tell by how you’re reacting that you want this.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“Your belt is stabbing me.” She half laughed.

Frowning for a moment, Tom looked down and sure enough, the buckle of his belt was slightly open, the pointed bit jabbing into her stomach. “Sorry.” He moved slightly to not hurt her any further. Danielle’s response was to pull him down to kiss her again.

“Why do I have to be so short?” She groaned after a few minutes, her neck aching from the angle it required to be in when kissing him.

“We could go into the living room.” Tom offered, not moving too far from her lips.

“I think that best.” Danielle smiled. “TOM!” She erupted in laughter when rather than waiting for her to make her way herself, Tom hoisted her into his arms and carried her in. “I can walk.”

Tom grinned at her. “I think this is more fun.” He manoeuvred them so that he sat under her on the couch with her straddling his legs. “Better?” Biting her bottom lip, she nodded her reply. “I’m sorry.”

Danielle frowned. “What for?”

“Taking so long, I should have done this ages ago.” He toyed with her hair. “I just thought you weren’t interested, and with my work, I didn’t want to have anyone waiting for me, but as soon as I heard of you and Paul, I couldn’t bear it. Then today, when I saw him with another woman, and I thought you were still with him, I…Why didn’t you tell me when I mentioned him that you were over?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted as she bit her lip. “I just didn’t want to admit I screwed up. I only accepted Paul because I thought I could never have you. And when you kissed me, I thought it was a mistake, that you could never want me.”

Tom scoffed, “Well, that’s wrong. I very much want you.” He subconsciously grabbed her ass and pulled it down to his lap.

“You think one, albeit delicious Indian takeaway will get me to bed?” she asked. “Paul tried for months and didn’t get anywhere.”

“Wait, what? You never…?” Tom looked at her in shock.

Danielle regretted ever mentioning it. “Not that, no.” she was unsure as to how Tom would react, thinking he would not believe her or scoff, instead, he crashed his lips to hers and pulled her down as close to him as was physically possible.

“So, what does takeaway get me, what are you willing to give?” He grinned cheekily.

“Well, tonight, nothing, I have to go, I have work at seven, remember.” She groaned, genuinely gutted at the idea of leaving.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either.” She laughed at his childish response. “But I am a boring grown-up, with boring grown-up responsibilities.”

Tom groaned, hating the fact that she was right. “Mean.”

“And perhaps it’s for the best.” Tom frowned at her. “In case you don’t want…”

“If you think you can pull the ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ BS again, stop now. I am a grown man and I know damn well what I am doing.” He growled, placing his arms around her, he rolled them so he was over her. “And I’ll prove it.” He grinned wickedly before kissing her passionately again. Danielle’s reaction was to put her hands on his ass, an area that had caused her far too many lust-filled fantasies than could be deemed appropriate.

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 29 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Stand, Overcome Your Fear (Beckett x F!MC): Part 7

Summary: Finally the longest month in Beckett’s and Maeve’s life come to the end and they find out themselves in a Mirror Hall. Will they finally find peace and solitude in their new home in Ireland. Or will someone stand on their way? Will they finally be able to be happy and end the nightmare that lasted more than 2.5 years.

Author note’s: This is AU for my MC Maeve Raven and Beckett Harrington. AU where happiness seems not possible for this two but is it so? All characters as usually belong to PB. Please let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list.

@fluffy-marshmallow-heart huge thank to you for all your support during me writing this AU, we are almost near to the end so thank you honey a lot. I appreciate this so much. @elles-choices thank you for your brilliant idea you gave me.

And thank for anyone who didn’t abandon this series just yet and read them :)

We are almost there. Next part supose to be the last one.

Author note’s 2: This lyric belongs to Aria (Kipelov), this is Russian Heavy Metal band and the name of the song is Stand, Overcome Your Fear. This song ideal for what to come next after this time of solitude

Warning:  battle, violence

Words: ~2910

Attunements:

Maeve Raven: Sun and Earth

Beckett Harrington: Moon and Metal

Tagging: @elles-choices @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @brightpinkpeppercorn @briarsunicorn @walkerismychoice @tmarie82 @boneandfur @darley1101 @scgdoeswhat @harrington-sinclaire @feartheendlesssummer @damienazarionos @timmagicktoad

Exactly one month after the moment when they said their goodbyes, one month after their heated kisses, woven bodies and sincere promises, they met again in the Mirror Hall to finally depart from Penderghast to their new home in Ireland. They both could feel how their hearts fluttered, anticipating solitude this place would give them, anticipating the powerful protection this place would provide. They eyes met and a small smile of happiness played on their faces. Finally together, finally free. Their fingers intertwined, their bodies close to each other, standing here, ready to walk through the mirror without any suspicion what fate had prepared for them.

- Are you ready, - whispered Beckett almost touching the Mirror’s glass, waiting for Maeve to nod. When he touched the glassy surface of the mirror, he knew, the same instance his fingers connected with it, that something is wrong. Instead of a shimmering glass surface, the mirror turned into pitch black, sucking them in. He tried to pull his hand away or let go of Maeve’s hand, but this was already too late as they both were swallowed by the blackness of the swirl. They could feel vacuum sucking them further and further into the void, not knowing where it takes them, not knowing what to expect. The time seems froze as they fell onto a stone floor from ceiling height. Beckett could hear Maeve’s weak groan near to him, feeling the warm liquid flowing from his broken nose. He rolled over on the side groaning, raising up and helping Maeve to her feet. His eyes met hers after carefully examining her for bruises, surprised and relieved to see that she is okay. He gently pulled her into his embrace. She could hear his heart thundering matching hers not understanding where they are and what had happened.

- Where are we, - she asked, mirroring Beckett’s thoughts, taking a step forward from him looking around on the high walls covered with claw marks and blood stains. She could smell the foul odor of blood, decaying flesh and deadly fears in the air. Maeve covered her mouth, feeling the sickness rises to her throat, feeling terrified of this place. The realization where they are and what is about to happen slowly sunk at her and she turned around to look at Beckett, fear in her eyes. She noticed the figure behind him, feeling with all her being the imminent danger looming on them. She tried to warn him, but no sound came from her stifled throat. Maeve could feel hot tears started to flow down her face feeling despair crashing her. Beckett’s brows furrowed in concern, but before he could do something, he felt the cruciating pain by every cell in his body, feeling like all the air was knocked out of him and his body hit the floor before being raised into the air and confined to the wall. He could feel the paralyzing fear enveloped his whole body, to no avail trying to fight with an invisible force holding him in place. The cold alien voice echoing around them, making their blood chill in their veins.

- STOP IT, - the voice bounced off the walls, - How dare you, fooling me. You thought you can just pretend that this is over in hope to escape me? Did you planned to live happily ever after with this…, - something similar to the smirk or animal grin crossed her face while she looked at Maeve’s terrified face, sending another wave of pain through Beckett’s body, - you may be protected by Professor Swan’s magick, but I just waited for the right moment when I could fully and slowly enjoy my retribution. You thought you can fool me? That you can get stronger? That you can fight me and be free? - her voice grew stronger and louder when her face changed to the white mask and her veins grew pitch black moving under her skin like a snake ball. Maeve could only stand still not able to move, not able to say a word. She felt as if chained to a place as if the ability to speak has been mercilessly ripped from her. Maeve’s eyes met Beckett’s taking the courage from him, feeling the growing strength in both of them as some invisible power was binding them as one whole. The power that they yet about to discover. She smiled softly at Beckett showing him that everything will be fine before fearlessly looking straight in his mother’s eyes. She could sense with all her body Mrs. Harrington’s fixed gaze, instinctively wrapping hands around waist listening for the harsh sound of her voice ringing in the silence,- Well, well, well… Then this is the infamous Maeve Raven, who stubbornly tries to date my son, thinking that I will allow this to happen? I would better watch him die than will let him date the kind of yours… I probably should know better of his own stubbornness and kill him, rather than give him a chance to break up with you on his own… I should know better, that he is weak. He always was a white sheep in our family. The only one who didn’t have the worthy attunement. The disappointment, the failure in our line… So, now he will learn how to respect me. I will teach him a lesson in obedience and what can happen if you do not obey. He will beg me for death after I’m done with you. 

- What kind of mother are you… you are a beast… a monster. He is your son and you put him through the hell, - Maeve fought back tears, her voice was strong but soft like a whispering meadow. The evil laugh broke through the room, stopping as abruptly as starting.

- SILENCE…, - the stabbing pain in her abdomen made her scream falling to her knees, but something pushed it back releasing the pain as quickly as it raised, hot salty tears run down her face, - do you want to know, what kind of mother am I? The one you never had… and the one you will never become, my dear, - she laughed mercilessly watching Maeve’s face distorting by the inner pain, her eyes meeting Beckett’s watching them mirroring the pain she felt of something that now never meant to be. She heard his screams cut through the air, watching him struggle to try and escape, watching his wrists bleeding to the floor and his face getting paler, - Stop fighting, my dear son… Is this little toy of yours really worth to die for? But don’t worry I took you both there not to watch you die, even if your disobedience should be punished. No, no, no my dear. I want you to watch her suffer… I want your pain to last forever, after her womb will be dried out not able to reciprocate, I want you to live knowing, that her tears are all your fault.

- Why are you doing this, - Maeve groaned while her insides twisted in pain, but some invisible power gaining strength pushed this pain away.

- Awwww, you will find out why. Don’t worry you and my traitor son will know exactly why I’m doing this, - she laughed circling around Maeve as a black kite around its victim looking for a better opportunity to strike, - I think you both will be interested in what I about to tell you and what will never come true now, - she stopped for a moment a smile of Death spreading on her lips, - There is a prophecy that a girl born on the summer solstice will develop the power of the sun, and will change the boy born on the winter solstice of the blood moon. Together they will be the greatest force of good that the world ever saw, and with their child, the blood attuned will stop existing, - and with this, she twisted her hands making the world explode in pain taking her breath away slowly dissolving into blackness. What happened next took everyone by surprise. Maeve could feel how some power started to rise from her, protecting her from the pain, making her body glow with a pink shimmering light. She could feel how the strength filled her and her eyes met Beckett’s while the light from her slowly enveloped him healing his wounds. Holding his mother in place by incantation, as under someone’s command she waved her hand tearing invisible chains holding Beckett down watching him getting free, rushing to take her side. His hands securely placed around her not leaving her gaze shocked and relieved at the same time. He could see his mother’s face distorted in a rage with futile attempts to break free.

- Mae, you need to leave, - he whispered to her in a rushed voice taking her hand in his, searching her eyes, not leaving any opportunity to object, - please run, don’t look behind, run as fast as you can. I’ll hold her as long as it will be possible and then… and then I will join you, - after a moment when Maeve didn’t move as if knowing her thought he continued, - I promise you, you will not lose me. I love you. I love you more than anything. I can’t lose you know.

- No, - spoke Maeve firmly, her voice hushed feeling confused and scared, but taking his side, -  I love you and I will not leave your side. I’m so sick of losing you again and again. We will fight together, as this is our fight... not yours... our, - their eyes intent on each other magick flows through Maeve’s fingers while she loses her concentration feeling how the spell stops and Beckett’s mother gets her freedom again sending the first incantation toward them. Beckett moves quickly in front of Maeve feeling how his mother’s magick hit him leaving a trail of blood at the point of contact with his skin, making him hiss in pain. Maeve’s eyes grew darker with fury when she met Mrs. Harrington’s black abysmal eyes, and she fought the urge to hit her with all the power she had within her. She knew she must not... for Beckett, but watching his shoulder bleed made her blood boil and anger rise... She put her hand gently over the wound healing it, watching his face flinch with pain from the contact. Her power pulsed through her as she still held her hand over Beckett’s wound focusing on his mother. She closed her eyes focusing on her innate energy pulling it up, feeling it coursing through her veins. She looked at her shining hand sending the beam of light in Beckett’s mother direction watching her deflect it with the darkness around her. She could feel Beckett’s body gone rigid under her touch, feeling the cold spread through him and his eyes glow with a moonlight. They could hear his mother’s cold merciless laugh when she sucked the blackness inside her releasing it with the doubled force. They could see this force reaching them ready for it to pass through them, not expecting the pink light protectively dispersing the force around them not letting it reach its goal. They both could see the opening in his mother’s protection hitting at the same time, making her stumble back watching at them stunned, feeling fury bubbling in her and the cold black as the night voice thundered in the room:

- YOU... DO YOU REALLY THINK, YOU CAN FIGHT ME? - her cold laugh bounced through the darkness, making them shudder to their bones, - DO YOU REALLY THOUGHT, YOU CAN FIGHT BLOOD ATTUNED?

- We don’t want to, - sighed Beckett, - but if... if you think I’ll be watching you hurt my family then you are wrong.

- Then so be it.

Beckett could see his mother’s eyes glistening red and her hands turning into claws. Black energy with sparkles of blood pulsating around her turning into a stream of air rushing toward them. They reacted both at the same time, Maeve’s beam of sun cutting the dark energy making it fall apart, while Beckett sends the energy of Moon toward his mother hitting her in the chest making her stumble backward in surprise. He could feel Maeve’s hand on his calming and soothing like a breath of fresh air, not letting his anger to rise, sensing the power around them pulsating and throbbing. He can feel his own energy started to rise, getting stronger. They caught sight of a red vapor coming from Beckett’s mother hands, slithered over to them like a snake making their hearts race and their heads spin from the lack of air, feeling like suffocating. Not thinking twice Beckett called for Air spell brushing it off, reverting the red vapor backward, watching his mother’s black aura absorbing it. He groped the metal surrounding them, concentrating on it, pulling it toward him forging it with hot flames into a pair of handcuffs. He sends them toward his mother, to chain her to the wall, watching them twisting and writhing before disappearing in the air. His mother’s eyes were focused on him, not noticing how Maeve slowly raised her hand pointing fingers where she stood watching how the stone floor crumbled quickly beneath her and the roots came out of it circling up binding her body. The scream of anger filled the air making it thick and foul ripping off roots that bond her throwing them in their direction not giving them a chance to block debris from them. They could feel how she started to lose temper hearing her murmur ancient incantation filling them with fear. They never heard it before, but Beckett knew what that meant and what is about to come. His mother was performing the spell that would cause shadow monsters to be released and it will mean that while his mother will feed on their strength, they will lose more than just their powers, they will lose their lives. Not thinking twice Beckett interlocked his fingers with Maeve’s, watching how her power pulsating around her in a golden light creating a perfect bubble of safety wrapping the pink light inside. His own power starting flow making his hand glow in blue moonlight interlacing with Maeve’s golden light. They both could feel how their magick started to transform becoming stronger lighting up everything with Northern lights ready to burst out of them. They eyes met knowing that they need to act fast or it will be late, unleashing this new combined power toward his mother, making her stumble backward in surprise. They could feel her struggle against this wall of light, that hit her in the chest in pulsating waves, fighting it, losing her power, anger and fear flash in her eyes. They could see blackness dissolve around her leaving a tired being lay on the floor not magnificent anymore, but vanquished. They let go of each other’s hands their eyes met, feeling drained and tired. Beckett took a step closer to Maeve placing his hands around her, wrapping her tighter into his embrace, his hands securely placed on her waist. His face buried in her thick golden hairs, his heart still pounding in his chest after the battle with his mother. Lifting his eyes on his mother he started to speak.

- Mother, no matter how much pain you made us feel, you will not be able to break this bond between us. I’m sorry for you, sorry that you cannot understand or feel what we can. But I forgive you..., - he looked at Maeve smiling at her weakly watching her to nod, before continue, - we forgive you. I hope you will find it in yourself to let us be. Goodbye, mother, - he said lowering his head and reverting his gaze from cold and bloodshot eyes of his mother, - Let’s go, - he murmured into Maeve’s ear brushing his fingertips over her still slim belly and kissing her forehead. He carefully took her hand in his turning to the only mirror he could see, hoping that it will take them to the destination in mind... their home. Not quite able to believe that they created a new life, still scared to lose them both. As by instinct, he turned his head meeting the cold eyes of his mother pointing at Maeve the black aura pulsating around her and he could feel how his heart drops. Without thinking twice, he let go of Maeve’s hand gently pushing her aside and taking her place reverting his mother incantation at her, watching it hit her in the chest where the heart supposed to be. He could feel hot tears pricking his eyes running down his face watching as his mother hit the floor breathless. He stood motionless feeling pain clutching his heart, not able to move. He felt a soft hand placed on his shoulder pulling him out of his daze, turning his head to meet the warmth of Maeve’s forest green eyes. He could see the pain and the grief in her eyes... the one that he felt himself... the one he tried to fight. “If only she would let us go,” he thought, taking Maeve’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly, hoping that they will find the way home.

#playchoices #the elementalists #te #beckett harrington #beckett x mc #playchoices fanfic

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 5

Chapter 5!  Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for beta’ing.  @doctorroseprompts​

Chapter 6 will be available on April 21st; chapters are posted every other Sunday

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.  

Masterlist

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

Rose woke the next morning to tea on the nightstand, blinking blearily at the mug.  “Wha’?”

“Good morning!”  She wasn’t sure how it was possible for him to be twice as Tigger-like as the day before, but he launched himself onto the bed next to her making the whole mattress shake.  “How are you, my love?”

“Still riding the endorphins, huh?” she teased, rolling over to kiss him.  They’d called it an early night, the day of sightseeing followed by a spectacular, much-needed orgasm each having drained their energy.

“It’s a beautiful day, let’s go to the beach,” the Doctor declared, boldly slipping his hand under the hem of her negligee to settle firmly on her bumcheek.  “Sand, sun.  Whatever.” He squeezed, making her yelp out a laugh.

“Bit cheeky there, aren’t you?”

“Dunno, seems to me like you’re all cheek.”  His other arm wriggled its way between her and the mattress to cup the other side of her bum and pull her towards him.

Rose moaned, kissing him deeply as his hands wandered over the curves.  “Maybe you should spank me.”

She froze when he did, pulling back slightly and opening his eyes.  “Is that… something you like?”

Eyes widening slightly, she studied his deer in the headlights expression.  “Not historically,” she considered, “but then again, they didn’t ask, just did it.  Maybe it’s something we could explore?  At some point?”

“Anything you want.”  He was still frowning, and she sighed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Stop thinking about the past,” she whispered.

The Doctor’s face smoothed out.  “I’m thinking about what sort of bathing suit you’re going to wear today.”

“Got a request?”

He hesitated, and Rose perked up in interest.  She could see something percolating in the back of his mind, and hoped he felt comfortable enough to share it.  “Actually…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe scarlet?  And/or orange?”

“Okay.”  Surprised, she tried not to show it.  “Can I ask why?”

The Doctor licked his lips.  “Does it matter?”

“No.”  Rose rested one hand on his chest, over his heart.  “You don’t have to tell me.  But if you ever want to…”

He nodded, darting forward to kiss her.  “Another time.  For now, though, tea, breakfast, then beach!”  Gently pulling his arm free he jumped from the bed, peering out the window.  “Not a cloud in the sky!  Shake a leg!”

Rose climbed out of bed, taking a sip of her tea and stretching before accusing, “You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“Less, ideally.”  He grinned, unrepentant.  “Allons-y!”

It took them an hour to get ready but once they were down on the shore, she had to admit it was the perfect day.

“Water?”  Having already removed his shoes and shirt the Doctor was bouncing on his toes, raring to go.

Rose smiled, rolling her eyes at the oversized five-year-old.  “Yeah, all right.”  Kicking off her own sandals, she pulled off her cover-up before hesitating.  A glance around showed no one in sight, and biting her lip, she deliberately untied her top and put it in her bag with her other things.  “Okay.”  He glanced at her, doing a double take, and she shrugged innocently.  “What? I don’t want tan lines.”

“Come on.”  He offered her his hand, and they ran into the water together shrieking.

They played together for more than an hour, swimming and splashing before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him.  “There’s snorkeling gear in the bag – d’you want to have a go?”

“I’ve never snorkeled before,” she pointed out.  “But if you’re willing to teach me, I’ll try.”

“See, that’s why we’re such a good team,” he beamed down at her.  “When one’s unfamiliar with something, the other takes the time to teach them so we can enjoy it together.”  His meaning was abundantly clear even before he tweaked her nipple.

“You saying you want me to teach you about sex?” Rose shot back, unsurprised when he nodded.  “Well, let’s see how snorkeling goes, yeah?”  He scrambled out of the water, grabbing the supplies before hightailing it back to her as she laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He scanned her figure, eyes lingering as expected on her chest.  For someone who claimed to be unpredictable, his tastes certainly weren’t.  “Something like that.”

She shook her head, holding a hand out.  “Let’s get started.”

It wasn’t easy, breathing underwater through a tube wasn’t quite instinctive, though she did feel better when the Doctor struggled as well.

“Sorry,” he said, as they headed up the beach to their things, “I didn’t know it was so hard.  In all honesty, I’ve never done it before.”

“Why would you, with a respiratory bypass?” she let him off the hook, smiling reassuringly.  “It’s all right.  I’m glad we tried it, but let’s stick to just the masks.”

The Doctor stopped walking, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him so he could kiss her.  “I love you,” he muttered against her mouth. “So much.”

“I love you too.”  She kissed him back, rising onto the balls of her feet to wrap her arms around him.  Soft sand between her toes, warm sun on her skin, and they were pressed tightly against each other with nary a stitch between them from the waist up.  “Want to go snog on the beach?”

“Um, yes!”

They made dinner together, steaks on the grill and a nice tossed salad.  Rose carried the wine out to the table, pouring two glassfuls as the Doctor served the food.

She took one bite of the steak and moaned.  “Bloody ‘ell, Doctor, this is absolutely brill- what’s wrong?”

He had stopped dead, staring off unseeingly behind her.  His fork halfway to his mouth, he barely appeared to be breathing.  A quick glance over her shoulder showed nothing out of the ordinary, and biting her lip, she gently reached for him.

“Doctor?”

He came alive all at once, shaking his head and taking his bite.  “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”  Rose was careful to keep her voice light, open and inquisitive without being interrogating.  Since arriving in this universe he’d been pretty good about sharing things, but not everything.  He was like a puppy or toddler - if you gave chase he’d head for the hills, but give him a little space and he’d come to her sooner or later.  Usually sooner.

“I was just… the little garden back there… what was the name of the station?”

“What station?”

“The train- where we got the car.”

“Oh!  Perpignan.”

“Perpignan,” he repeated.  “Okay.”  And he stuck a large forkful of lettuce in his mouth, making a show of chewing.

Rose waited until he was done.  “D’you want to talk about it?”

The Doctor stared down at his salad as he stabbed at it.  She kept eating, trying to keep the pressure off.  If she pushed too hard he tended to shut down, but if she let it be, more often than not he’d share.

They were halfway through the meal when he spoke quietly.  “The garden reminded me… I used to travel with a girl named Peri.  She was a botany student from the States.”

“Ah.  Were you- was she with you long?”

He snorted.  “Too long, I’m sure she’d say.  She met me right before a regeneration, and while the first was fine the second… it didn’t start well.  That body was… a bit on the abrasive side.  She didn’t like that me very much.”

“What happened?  To her, I mean.”

The Doctor shrugged, leaning back with a sigh.  “She died, but she didn’t. I think there’s still multiple versions of her running around.  Just thinking about it gives me a headache.  Various versions of her traveled with me.  But they also didn’t. Some married this warrior king we met on our last proper adventure in various ways.  The Time Lords… politics is politics, and she was used as a pawn by a number of factions.  It’s complicated, suffice to say.”

“Oh.”  Rose searched for a suitable reply but came up empty.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”  He started eating again, as she wrinkled her nose.

“Wait, sorry, what does that have to do with the train station?”

The Doctor began laughing, leaning back as he guffawed, making her raise an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic action.

“Doctor?”

“Her name,” he snorted, shaking his head and taking a sip from his wine.

“Peri?”

“Short for Perpugilliam.”

“You’re kidding me.”  Rose’s draw dropped.  “Seriously? That was her name?”

“She was born in the 60s.”  He shrugged, grinning at her flabbergasted expression.  “She pretty much always went by Peri, but, yeah – Perpugilliam.”

“Poor girl,” Rose muttered, staring out at the horizon as she considered it.  She hadn’t always been fond of her own name – especially not when they were studying Romeo and Juliet in school – but now, she was thankful her parents had gone for something simple.  And easy to spell.

“If you think that’s bad…” the Doctor teased, drawing her attention.

“Yeah?  Come on, out with it!  It is your name?  Bet it’s even worse,” she shot back, straightening with anticipation.

He just smirked, shaking his head.  “My name’s the Doctor, Rose, I thought we’d long since covered this.  No, I was thinking of another Time Lord- well, Time Lady, in this case.”

“Yeah?”

The Doctor hesitated, watching as she bounced with anticipation.  “My friend Romana?”

“From Paris?” Rose remembered vaguely from their conversation on the train.

“Yep.  Romanadvoratrelundar.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Danke schön.”

“You’re killing me here,” Rose giggled.  “Can you say it again?”

“Which one? Perpugilliam?  Or Romanadvoratrelundar?”

“Wow.”  She just shook her head, draining her glass before popping the last bite of steak into her mouth.  “Just… wow.”

“See?  Nothing wrong with nicknames,” he smirked, pouring her more wine.  “Look at your own mum – who ever calls her ‘Jacqueline’?”

“Fair point.”  Rose settled back in her seat as he dove into his likely now-cold meal with relish, cradling her wine glass to her chest.  “So, have a number of your friends run off with alien men, then?”

He tilted his head in consideration, chewing thoughtfully.  “A handful.  Well, not all were alien men, but still.  Erm- one, Jo, she was my assistant when I was at UNIT, the one before Sarah.  She met a professor who wanted to go off and protest… something, and save the world, and she wanted to go with him.  Within a few days, they were engaged.”

“Now, that’s a fast relationship,” Rose commented with a grin.  “What happened to them?”

“Oh, a lifetime of environmental and political activism.  Seven children, twelve grandchildren at last count.  I popped by once in a while to check on her, but I never- she never saw me.”

She hummed in reply.  “Anyone else?”

“My granddaughter.”

She froze, barely breathing as she took in his statement.  He’d mentioned, casually, not long before they’d been separated that he’d been a father, not that she’d been able to get him to expand on that.  But a grandfather?  “Oh?”

The Doctor pushed back abruptly from the table, coming around to offer her his hand.  She took it automatically, and he led her over to the couch where they curled up together.  Rose allowed it, but didn’t miss that he’d positioned them so she couldn’t see his face.

“Yes.  We were on Earth, 22nd century, and… she met a boy.”

“And she left?”  His arms tightened around her, and she had a feeling of foreboding.  “Doctor?”

“I left her,” he whispered into her hair, and her heart stopped.  “I knew she’d never leave me, so I left her.  Locked her out and took off, as she pounded on the door.”

Now, I've just got to go and power up the Game Station. Hold on!  One of her last clear memories on the GameStation came to mind, how he’d tricked her.  Sure, she’d been stuck inside the ship, but she’d pounded on the door, begged him not to.  Because of Bad Wolf blocking most of those memories that was her last clear image of that Doctor before he regenerated, his quick smile and gung ho attitude, filling her with confidence and hope.  False hope.

She didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse to know he’d treated his own flesh and blood, his granddaughter, just the same.  It also explained quite a bit – like why he was always so certain she’d meet someone and run off, leaving him behind.  Or why he never fought harder for her to stay.  Why he pushed her away.

“Do you know-”

“They got married.”  He shrugged, the movement shifting her against his chest.  “I know they raised children, though I don’t know if they were biological – she probably wouldn’t have been capable of that.  Gallifreyans were long since sterile.”

Rose’s spine stiffened, her mother’s babbling about grandchildren echoing through her mind.  “What about us?”

“What about us?”

“Would we be able to-”

“Have children?” he finished, sounding surprised.  “No idea- hadn’t thought about it.  Is that… something you’ve thought about?”

“Thought about?  Of course.  I don’t know what I want, necessarily, but I’ve thought about it.”  She’d dreamed about it, been unable not to imagine herself in that situation as she watched her mum’s pregnancy then Tony growing up.  How he might dote on a tiny daughter, giving a pretend tea party his all.  How he would show a toddler son how rain and dirt made mud, and what fun it was to make Jackie and Rose yell.

“Oh.”

Rose bit her lip, shifting on his lap to be able to see him.  “Mum, however, has been buying me baby name books since you got here.”

He blanched, arms squeezing her.  “I’m open to the conversation – later.  Much later.  That’s as much as I can promise.”

“Oh, is that it?”  The moment felt too heavy, too real, and Rose sought to diffuse it, grinning cheekily.

“Yes?”

“Well, ‘s just- I thought you were interested in practicin’, is all.”

“Practicing?”

Rose shifted on his lap so she was straddling him, letting him see her smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing images of tiny newborns cradled in his long arms out of her mind.  “Practice makin’ the babies.”

After a moment his expression lightened, and he snickered.  “Well, you know me – be ready for anything.”

Combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, Rose let her smile fade.  “I won’t ask, if you don’t want me to, but- I hope you know you can talk about it, with me.  Any of it.  Past companions, your family, Gallifrey… I love you, and I’m interested, but I know it’s a sensitive subject so I won’t push.  Just know that I’m here.”

He grew serious as well, nodding slowly.  “No promises, but- thanks.”

Rose held his gaze for a long moment, willing him to see her sincerity, before she changed the subject.  “Now- let’s go dive into that chocolate cake we bought, yeah?”  She climbed off his lap, offering him a grin with her hand, and he reciprocated both.

“Oh, I know better than to stand between a Tyler and her chocolate!”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenTooxRose #TenToo #Rose Tyler #prompted #Barcelona is for Lovers #oohlala

[trans-pickles]

Murdertooth 32, Your OCS 66? I think????? I lost track there are so many???????

you read my mind i’ve been dying to talk about the ocs

32. “You’re everything to me.”

It ached, sometimes. Not always, especially not nowadays, not since he was back home, not since he had bit the bullet and fucking talked to William, but it was still there. That was the worst part, the part he thought would have gone by now, the knowledge that he could have done better.

Maybe because he had spent the last six months of his life face-to-face with the man who had done all those things to William. Funny, he’d spent so long being angry at someone he’d never met, someone Willy only spoke of in drunken heart-to-hearts or secret closet eating sessions, never named, never truly acknowledged, yet when that very man arrived yet again he knew absolutely nothing about it. He’d welcomed Magnus - had William been scared? Did he think Toki would laugh if he revealed the identity?

Toki was still angry. He didn’t think he’d ever not be angry. Magnus had died by his own hand. In the end, he’d robbed Toki even of the privilege of killing him, like he’d taken Murderface’s innocence, had taken Toki himself. He wanted to drag him up from the ground and wring the life out of the maggots crawling on his corpse. Some deep, dark part of him wished Magnus had stayed alive, just so he could find him and hurt him, hurt him like he’d hurt William, before Toki even got the chance to know him.

“Uh. Toki. Bro.”

Bed, yes. He was in his- William’s- their bed, fingers clenching the sheets, white-knuckled, staring up at the ceiling. Willy was propped up on his elbows next to him, hair wild around his face, eyes big with worry. Toki managed a small smile.

“Sorries, elskede. Just t’inkings abouts, er… yyyyyous beauty-fuls eyes?”

Willy scowled, and Toki winced inwardly. Pet names usually worked to distract him - there must have been something on his mind.

“Noooooo, you can’t do that, uh… ell-schka-dee thing wif me, you’re worried, and if you don’t tell me, I’ll…”

Toki snickered a little. “You’s goings to fights me or some-tings?” Willy flushed.

“N-no, but juscht causche I’d, I’d totally win, an’ that ain’t fair! I dunno my own schtrength! I’m too buff!”

He laughed, but when the laugh had finished the silence still hung heavy. Toki breathed deep.

“Thinkin’s abouts… you knows. Hims.”

It was ironic that Toki, once so eager to learn the name of the man who hurt Murderface, now refrained from saying it. Or maybe that wasn’t ironic. His father had never taught him the more nuanced aspects of literature. Willy’s face instantly went back to its original shade - so odd, seeing him look solemn.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Me, uh. Me too.”

“How he horts you, backs… befores I was here.” I wish I could have stopped it, he wanted to say, but he didn’t.

“How he hurt you before you were back,” Murderface muttered, no longer looking at his boyfriend, but at the pillow, or maybe something far, far beyond it. “Wisching… I ‘unno. Wisching I coulda schtopped it, I guessch.”

Toki was silent for a second, before wrapping William in a smothering blanket of a hug. He squealed a half-hearted protest of, “Whasscha big idea?!” but didn’t resist as he was pulled into the nest of blankets Toki had built for himself.

“Nothings,” he said. “Just likes you a lots. Dat’s all.”

Willy looked at him weird for a second, before rolling his eyes. “Big old homo,” he muttered. Toki retorted with a kiss.

66. “If I die, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny, and you know it.”

Seoirse sighed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charlie grinned up at him, although it looked more like a grimace. “Hey, I gotta deal with you, but you gotta deal with-”

She was cut off by an ugly, hacking cough, one that sent thick black blood spraying over her hand, made her double over and clutch desperately at her stomach, as if she were literally trying to pull herself together, to speed up whatever it was she did that made her bounce back from all those injuries, except not now, of course not now, of course she wasn’t now. Instinctively Seoirse shot forward and grabbed her before she collapsed completely, ignoring a gruff declaration of health and trying to avoid the hole in her side.

“Why isn’t anything happening?!” he hissed, and Charlie groaned.

“Not… hh… not lucid ‘nuff, I guess. Nhh… maybe I used… used too much…”

“Used too much?!” Seoirse said, his voice a little bit higher and louder than he intended. Instantly he felt a stab of guilt when the ground rumbled just a bit under him, and Charlie winced, tilting her head away. He lowered his voice.

“How do you use too much? With Alec, it’s always been-”

The glare that Charlie leveled at him would have chilled him to his bones if she hadn’t been so close, if her blood wasn’t soaking his once lovely silk shirt.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” she said, and the venom in her voice really did make him cringe, “but I am not my brother.”

Put pressure on it.

Seven’s voice was smooth and measured in his head, but when Seoirse looked at her little face it was streaked with tears, though totally unmoving. She shoved a blanket into his arms. Pressure. Wound. Bleeding. The thoughts she pushed into his mind swirled around, chaotic, fragmented, feverish. He pushed down on the wound, as well as the inherent discomfort of having a child root around inside his brain.

“I don’t want to die.”

She sounded so small when she said it, and suddenly they were thrown back fifteen years, before Seven, before the gunfire, before any of this, and Charlie was lying broken at the bottom of the stairs, and Seoirse was screaming, and Alec was laughing, you said let her go, piggy, you should be careful with your words, and her breathing was shallow and her eyes were wide and she wouldn’t stop looking at him.

It is done.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he opened his eyes, only that Charlie was leaning against him, and Seven was standing over him.

You were going into shock as well, Seven thought at him. I understand that it is an invasion of privacy, but I am very small and cannot do much on my own, so I took the liberty of piloting you for a bit.

He was too tired to be angry or offended. Seven gestured toward Charlie, who was sleeping. She looked so calm, so young in sleep. Like there was nothing really all that wrong.

She is healed. She will need to rest. As will you.

“No,” Seoirse heard himself say, “you should sleep.” Seven shook her head. As always, her expression was unreadable.

I can survive on three hours of sleep every twenty-four hours. My Circadian rhythm has been altered. You know this.

She folded her arms and sat down criss-cross in front of him, and she almost looked like a normal kid for a second. Seoirse didn’t know if she was telling the truth about her sleep schedule, but he welcomed the idea of rest, and curled up into his customary sleeping position, one reminiscent of a turtle. Protective, shut off, closed. Away from everything.

As he faded out of consciousness, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Charlie. He wanted to apologize - for what, he didn’t know. Not that there wasn’t anything to apologize for, he simply wouldn’t know where to start.

#hey here's some incoherent oc stuff! it is nonsense out of context whoops!!!! #murdertooth #william murderface #toki wartooth #charlie sterling #charlotte sterling #charlie macaulay #seoirse halloran #seven #project seven #apineappleheart

[editoress]

Chapter 1: Hired [Treasure Hell]

I wrote some Treasure Planet self insert for this weekend.  Not really sure what for except I love the book and move both, and I adore writing in this style.

Montressor spaceport was nothing if not lively.  The crescent bay was crammed with docks and inns and trading houses, and through all those things moved an unfathomable number of people.  It was less of a wonder after a few years of living there, but a wonder it remained.  Ships came and went on their golden sails; spacers who had been to corners of the galaxy she'd never even heard of passed her on the street; and the air rang all hours of the day with song and machinery and stories.

In a place where there was too much to pay notice to and take in, Elizabeth had, as usual, chosen to attend to the details.  Today's details had been a sour-sounding cough and a badly sprained wrist, and both procedures had been fully paid for.  Altogether she considered the day a success.

And then, instead of leaving, her last patient cleared her throat delicately and said, "Doctor, can I, er, have my records?"

Elizabeth paused in the act of waving Sally Henderson goodbye.  "Oh," she said.  She slowly retreated behind her desk and began thumbing precisely through her patient files.  They were in alphabetical order, not that there were so very many to search through. "An awful lot of patients," she noted as she pulled Sally's file loose, "have been asking for their records lately."

"We-ell."  Sally drew out the word searchingly.  "Business has been so good lately.  I think they must have moved uptown, you know, to the fancier districts."  She fiddled with her handkerchief with three stout hands; the fourth was carefully and professionally bound. "Also."

"Mhmm," Elizabeth prompted, handing the papers over.

"Well," Sally said again.  "Some people believe that you harbor rogues and thieves. The lower element, you know." She smiled a little too widely. "I'm sure it's not true, but what can you do about gossips!"

Elizabeth had opened her mouth, hoping for some relevant and reassuring words to see their own way out, when one of the bells beside her desk rang decisively.  She had five, one for each entrance and each patient room. She had just turned to look incredulously at the particular bell that was still vibrating in place when Cutter burst into the lobby with a crash of metal.  The grate that served as his mouth lit blue as he spoke, his voice deep and tinny.   "Back door for you, Doctor," he announced loudly, and vanished.

Elizabeth let the matter settle into silence with dignity.  "Please excuse me, Miss Henderson," she said at last.

"Oh, of course, Doctor," said Sally, who had already backed up to the front door. Elizabeth didn't even hear the platitude the woman offered as she scurried away.  Elizabeth locked the door as soon after as she dared and walked swiftly toward the back of the building.  She drew in a deep, annoyed breath.  Then she remembered that it was late, and she was feeling the strain of running a financially unsound business, and she let out her breath, trying to shove out any malice with it.

It flared back up at once when she stepped into the back hall and saw George Merry standing around as though he had nothing better to do.  She had seen him just earlier this week for a knife wound he'd more than earned, by all accounts.  She had also made herself perfectly clear he had a head on his shoulders for a reason and ought to use it if he intended to keep the thing.  "What happened now?" she demanded.

George started. "Doc Anderson."  He touched his forehead in a sort of semi-salute. When she showed no interest in civilities, he held out both hands in defense.  "I didn't do nothing, I swear!  This is business talk."

Elizabeth did stop at that, brow furrowed in confusion.  For a long moment, she feared she was about to lose the other half of her clientele, too, and have to move shop back to Montressor proper sooner than expected. She shook that thought off along with whatever annoyance she could cast out.  "Sorry, George.  It's been a long week, and I thought you'd gone and got stabbed again."

"Not me, Doc," he replied.  "But I've got a job for you."

She steepled her fingers beneath her nose.  "But you didn't get stabbed."

"No, damnit!" He pulled his kerchief off in agitation, but it caught on his horns.  Abashedly, he worked it back on again.  "It's not that kind of job.  Well, could be.  Been hired for a voyage, me and the lads."

Elizabeth had not the slightest idea who comprised the most recent incarnation of 'the lads.'  She hypothesized it didn't include the fellow he had gotten in a knife fight with a few days earlier, but alarmingly enough, she couldn't really be sure.  "I see. Be careful."

George gave her a wiry, crooked grin.  "You can make sure of that yourself, Doc.  The bloke hiring said as he hadn't got a doctor, so I says, I know one tough as nails."

She laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Merry," she allowed.  "But I'm not sure it'll get me on a ship."

"Come by the dock anyway," he insisted.  "We're to sail on the Legacy. They're still in talks for a few more hands.  If you like the job, and if you've got any sense I wager you will—"

"Enough."  She waved his expressive gestures out of her face. "I'll come.  For your eagerness, Mister Merry, if not your manners."

George shoved his hands in his pockets.  "You're well past manners with our lot, Doc," he declared.

"Bold words for a man who howled when he got stitches," she intoned in reply. She smiled in the face of his dark glower.  "Tomorrow is soon enough, I hope."

"Aye."  His goal achieved, he half-saluted again and turned to leave.

"George," she called after him.  "Your recommending me for this job—this doesn't have anything to do with my reputation for legal discretion, does it?"

"It's honest work, Doc," George replied, but he was practically on the other side of the door when he said it.  Elizabeth sighed after him.

She turned the corner to find Cutter waiting in the hallway, whirring with half a dozen medical tools. He was only as high as her shoulder, but if pressed, she would have said he was looming.  "He left, Cutter.  He didn't need medical help."

"Shame," Cutter said.  He reluctantly put his tools away.

"I'm going to lock up for the night.  Will you be all right here?"

Cutter pressed one jointed hand to his iron grate of a mouth.  "Oh no, what if I'm robbed by the lower element?"

She snorted. "Funny."  Fortunately, that was the one thing she did not have to worry about.  She had a local reputation that kept a lot of thieves and burglars—not all, but a lot—from troubling her.  Unfortunately, that was most of the payment they offered. "Goodnight, Cutter."

Cutter had already disappeared into a supply room, humming ominously as he went.

Elizabeth pulled on her coat, a great, dark, woolen thing that had seen better days.  She fancied it made her look mysterious, with its thick shadows and its heavy length that smacked at her calves.  Cutter claimed it made her look like a bag of old laundry, but he didn't wear coats at all, so that just showed what he knew.  Either way, it was welcome in the still, cold air.

The streets were shadowed over when she left.  As she walked, stars began to pick their way out of the sunlit haze that was slowly retreating from the spaceport.  A brougham clopped by, scattering pedestrians as it went.  A trio of bird-like fellows watched it intently as it passed and then dove into muttered conversation.  Elizabeth kept a weather eye out, as George Merry would have said, but she must have looked intimidating indeed in the coat, for no one gave her more than an appraising glance.

At last she arrived at the doorstep of the Singing Toad Inn.  Contrary to its name, no singing drifted from its well-lit interior, and as far as she knew the innkeeper had no toads at all, vocal or otherwise.  But it was warm and clean.  Too, it was one of the quieter inns, since it had only a few rooms.  Elizabeth was all too aware she had been taking one of them up for months now.

"Ho!" called the innkeep cheerily as she saw her way inside.  "Dinner?"

"Yes, please," she replied.  "Evening," she added to the many-eyed lady in the corner, but it was in vain.  The lady continued to smoke as fervently as though she meant to send up a signal across the station.

"What'll it be?"

Elizabeth wiggled her way out of the coat.  "You know me, Todd, I'll eat whatever's left."

"Right you are." Todd lumbered back into the kitchen, calling for 'Missus.'  Elizabeth had never once learned his wife's name.  The woman apparently ran the whole shop but never spoke to customers.

Elizabeth seated herself at the bar.  She breathed in deep, trying to guess what might have been served, but all she got for her trouble was a lungful of pipe smoke.  She coughed discreetly as possible.  Her eyes were still watering when Todd returned.  "On its way," he assured her.  He slapped his hands down on the bar and nodded distractedly.  "Er," he said.

Elizabeth waited him out.

"How much longer do you reckon you were going to stay?" he managed after several false starts.  "It's no mind to me and Missus."  He glanced warily over his shoulder to the door of the kitchen. After a moment, he decided very professionally, "But we wouldn't want accounts to get behind."

"Very delicately done," she congratulated him.  "No, I wouldn't want that, either.  I appreciate you letting me know when my account is running out."

Todd's obvious discomfort lessened at the thanks, as it did every time.  "No trouble, miss."

She was already calculating what she had and what could be done with it when she remembered she still had another decision to make.  It would have been impolite to not at least consider this job of George's, whether or not she fancied several months on a ship. "I can let you know tomorrow," she said slowly.

"Well enough! Fine talk," Todd said with some relief.  He lightly slapped his hands on the bar again.  "What's happening tomorrow?"

"Oh."  She smiled and waved a hand.  "Probably nothing."

*

Elizabeth had the good fortune to be a naturally early riser, so leaving the inn with time to spare was the least of her worries for the day.  She walked briskly and ate breakfast at the same time.  On the way to her practice she winked and nodded to anyone she recognized, offering a "Good morning!" in instances her mouth wasn't full of biscuit.  The whole place was bright with the bustle of tradesmen hurrying to work and groups of laughing spacers dragging hung-over friends to the docks.  Someone had started on an accordion a couple of streets over.  Elizabeth hummed along as she unlocked the door and came into the front office.

"Cutter?" she called.  She listened, not only for a reply but also for any indication he was up to something, but the building was silent.  "Cutter?"

They came through the lobby door at the same time, which was considerably less comfortable for Elizabeth than for the robot.  "Ouch," Cutter said anyway.

"You can say that again," she muttered, shoving her hands inside her coat to cover her breasts, which had gotten the worst of it.  "I came to tell you I won't be in until late, possibly after lunch."

"Why'd you come in early to tell me you'd be late?" he asked.

Elizabeth sighed in a longsuffering way she had perfected with practice.  "I have something of an interview this morning.  Be so kind as to hold down the fort until I get back."

Cutter whirred wordlessly for a moment, and she could have sworn his eyes glowed brighter. "I'm going to run the practice by myself?" he asked slowly.

"For a few hours," she clarified.  "Very likely, no one will come.  If they do—Cutter, are you listening?"

"Medical oaths," he said, placating.  "I understand."  He spread his hands magnanimously.  "The benefit of the patient.  Do no harm. And so on."

She was going to have to trust that that would do.  "I wish you were as enthusiastic about the principles as you are about the work." She made it as far as the door before reminding him, "Just a few hours, mind."

"Yes, Doctor."

Thoroughly unconvinced, she bid goodbye to Cutter and started for the docks.  A few inquiries here and there led her to the Legacy that George had mentioned, and thence to the financier of the voyage.  The Legacy had been pointed out with some respect; to guide her to the financier, most people rolled their eyes, gestured shortly, and gave her no more mind.

She at last found the man on a clear hunt for supplies.  He was well dressed, older than her by a good fifteen years, and even in a diverse crowd such as this he stuck out like a sore thumb.  His ears flopped comically as he tried to shake loose from a vendor.

"Thank you," he was saying, hysteria mixing with well-bred civility, "thank you, no, I have one.  Several, actually."

"Doctor Doppler?" Elizabeth called authoritatively.

"Excuse me," he told the vendor with infinite relief.  He freed himself at last and walked nearly with dignity to meet Elizabeth.

She held out her hand. "Doctor Anderson.  I heard you're hiring."

"Ah, yes!" He beamed at her and shook her hand enthusiastically.  "You must be the, er, other doctor.  In the medical field, I presume."

"That's me," she confirmed, amused.  "Do you expect to need a medical doctor?"

"Oh, goodness, no.  But," he added, hefting his veritable mountain of purchases, "preparedness is the key to success."  What looked like a metal gauntlet began easing its way out of a bag.  He managed to shoulder it back into place and muttered, "At least, I very much hope so."

She grinned. "Well, it can't hurt.  I take it you're otherwise prepared?"

Doppler made a delicate gesture as if viewing a priceless work of art.  "To the last detail.  Except for you, of course, if you'd like to join.  I'm prepared to offer general terms—generous terms—" He flapped his hands.  "Anyway. We set sail on the RLS Legacy in four days.  I expect we'll be back in four months, certainly no more than six. The crew came very well recommended from a good local man, you've met him.  You can find them at the Spyglass Inn.  You have a card, of course, Doctor?"

"Oh," said Elizabeth, who had in fact one card.  She cast about in her pockets and discreetly shook off any biscuit crumbs before handing it to him.  "Of course."

"Thank you." He smiled warmly as he glanced over it. "Oh!  Here at the spaceport.  How exciting!"  He carefully stuffed it in one of his many shopping bags.  "I hope you'll take the job.  You can never have too many doctors around."

His excitement was infectious.  She offered a wide smile.  "I have to agree with you there.  But I should warn you I'm not a ship doctor by trade or experience."

"Stellar, ahaha," Doppler replied, unperturbed.  "This will be my first voyage as well.  An astrophysicist finally visits the stars."  He peered at her over his glasses. "Perhaps you've heard of my work?"

"Er." Elizabeth searched for a compromise between honesty and cordiality and allowed, "I might have read something."  Before he could ask what, she put in, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk to the crew before I decide."

"Yes!  Yes, of course.  Off with you."  He beamed and waved.  "Until later, Doctor."

She laughed. "Goodbye, Doctor."

Doppler's jovial mood affected her all the way back to the Spyglass Inn.  That was definitely the sort of fellow she could stand to work for, if temporarily.  More practically, anyone who financed a voyage and bought that much in the way of last-minute supplies was the sort of fellow she could well afford to work for.  And yet it was too early to settle on a decision.  First, she had to take a closer look at this voyage.

The Spyglass Inn was a well kept tavern and inn right off the docks, exactly the sort of place one might expect to find spacers just waiting to board a ship.  Elizabeth stepped inside, humming, and was immediately met by a bright red arachnid face and glowing yellow eyes.  The man towered over her, teeth bared in a low-slung jaw.

"Israel Hands!" she cried.

Hands, who looked a good deal more alive than the last time she had seen him, only sneered.  His eyes narrowed.  "It's Scroop," he hissed.

"You what?" she blurted out incredulously before she could help herself.

Hands's claws clicked, and his voice lowered to a growl.  "You're in the way."

Now that's gratitude! she thought to herself, but a moment later she realized aloud, "Of course.  Sorry.  You wouldn't remember me."

"Hold off, Scroop!" yelled a familiar voice from deeper within the tavern.  "That's her!  That's the doc!"

Elizabeth realized then that Israel Hands, another of her less than legal patients, was part of this crew she had come to investigate, and also that he really did intend to go by the name Scroop.  Neither revelation filled her with confidence.  She went forward anyway, searching for the face to go with the voice of George Merry.  She found him at one end of a very long table filled with spacers and ale.  He casually toasted her before draining the last of his glass.

"And a very good morning to you," she returned.  "Bit early, isn't it?"

"It's breakfast, Doc," George protested.

Hands shouldered her on his way to the wall, which he leaned against menacingly.  Elizabeth scanned the table for other familiar faces and came up with two or three she knew in passing but not well enough to gauge the overall crowd.  "I take it this is the crew."

"Most of us. Why?"

She frowned. "Just wondering what sort of voyage this is."

"The sort that pays well, is all I know," George said sagely.  He laid one finger along the side of his nose, but what he was trying to convey she couldn't fathom.

"Pays well!" trilled a voice in her ear.  Elizabeth leapt back just in time to avoid a hurtling miniature of George as it cartwheeled through the space between them.  It stopped to hover over the table.  It was only two or three inches tall but slouched just like the man. "Pays well!  Pays well!" it cried.

"Georgie's fatter!" shouted someone halfway down the table.  The tiny George puffed out its gut obediently.

"Bugger off, Morph!" George said succinctly.  He waved his hat through the apparition, which dissolved into a pink amorphous mass with a high, cackling laugh.  The creature zipped through the air over Elizabeth's shoulder.  She whirled around to follow its path and came face to face with a mountain of a man.

It was a rare thing for Elizabeth to have to look up any great distance to anyone.  This man, though, had all of Hands's height—and none of the gangly build.  He was massive, and she could tell that his size was more than partly due to muscle. Even the complex iron machinery of his cybernetic limbs couldn't match the size of their flesh-and-blood counterparts. But for all that, he was smiling widely as he cooed over the blob, and his voice was light and lilting.

"Now, Mister Merry," he said with perfect tones of paternal disappointment, "there's no call to be rude to Morphy here.  He didn't mean a thing by it."  Morph purred innocuously.

"Sorry—" George cleared his throat. "Eh, sorry, Morph."

Morph seemed none the wiser for the apology.

"Silver," George continued more boldly, "this is the doc we were looking to bring along. Just in case and all."

Silver turned to her with surprising speed.  "Why!" he exclaimed.  "You didn't tell me you'd found a proper lady!"

Elizabeth felt at once flattered and alarmed by this assessment.  "Not a lady, sir," she corrected quickly.  She held out her hand.  "Doctor Elizabeth Anderson."

His cybernetic hand engulfed hers, and he wrung her hand enthusiastically.  With his other he removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "John Silver, as it please you," he returned.  "A real university doctor?  Why, that's a lucky thing!"

"You're part of the crew?" she guessed.

He gave her a modest smile with too much glint to be genuine.  "Aye, the good doctor was kind enough to hire an old spacer.  Now, I'm not the swashbuckling young lad I was once, so I'll be ship's cook.  But by the powers, I'll put my heart into it, you may lay to that!"

"If I join, I'll hold you to that," she informed him.  She leveled a finger at him.  "I'm serious about my food."

Silver boomed out a laugh, and Elizabeth couldn't help joining him.  "Ah!" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his remaining eye. "Now that's a lass after my own heart, that is."

"If you join, Doc?" George repeated, offended. "Hold on, if?"

"That's right," she said firmly, refusing to fall for the sad-eyes act of a man who mugged people regularly.  "I spoke with Doctor Doppler earlier.  He's willing to have me on.  But I haven't decided yet."

"Told you," someone down the table muttered.  "Not enough money for a doctor."

George scowled at her. "Why the hell not?  Every time you get a spacer in they've got to listen to how you wish you'd gotten to 'em sooner."

"I see word really gets around," she said a little sourly.

"I'm saying now you get to!" he insisted.  "And the pay's good.  Company's good.  And I recommended you, professional-like, and I'll look like a fool if you don't come."

"If I can have a word," Silver put in.  Something about his voice quieted the table.  He stepped forward with his hat once again in hand.  His solemnity was almost too dramatic, but something of the performance was sincere enough to make her listen.  "Speaking as someone who's seen his share of ships, and who's himself needed a doctor once or twice, it'd be a great weight off all our shoulders to have you with us, Doctor."  He smiled indulgently over the table of spacers.  "There's some young cocks who imagine as they're invincible, but you and I—well, we know there's a lot can happen in four months."

He made a point, and it was a point she had thought of more than once.  True, there were a hundred voyages leaving from Montressor spaceport every day, but this one had asked for her help.  She let out a breath.  "Do you know what our purpose would be?"

For an instant, he considered her thoughtfully; then, with a sheepish grin and a shrug, he said, "Some private expedition of this doctor's.  'T'ain't no business of mine.  As for me, my purpose is to feed the crew!"

"Fair enough," she sighed.  She looked down at George, who was twirling his empty glass on the table and pretending not to listen so intently.  "Why me?" she asked him.

He grunted. "You're the only doctor I know."

It was a simple, believable answer, and she could sketch out the most likely story for herself: George Merry had been asked by Doctor Doppler, a new hand at space voyages, to help find and hire the necessary ships and crew; and so George had recommended whoever he knew, which happened to be mostly from the less legal side of the spectrum.  Still, Occam's Razor panned out until it didn't, and she had the gut feeling that if she went, this voyage would be a disaster.

She wondered what Cutter would say about it.  He had his own way of being direct and logical.  What will this voyage be if you don't go? he would retort.  And the answer, of course, was that it might still be a disaster, just one without a doctor on board.

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and glanced around the room—at George, at Silver, at Hands, at the woman whose eye she had once patched up.  "Well, shipmates," she declared dryly, "I suppose I'm hired."

#finest crafts #self insert weekend #brotp: shut up John