#lizzie's 300 challenge

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Dred Scott was born into slavery in Southampton, Virginia, around 1795, the property of the Peter Blow family. He was given the name “Sam” but took the name of his older brother, Dred, when the latter died.

In 1836, Scott who was approximately 41, married a teenaged slave, Harriett Robinson, at Fort Snelling who was owned by another U.S. Army officer, Major Lawrence Taliaferro of Virginia. Scott and Robinson gave birth to their first child, Eliza, in 1838 and a second daughter, Lizzie, in 1840, and their two children were born free.

In 1843, Emerson died and left his estate to his widow, Irene Sanford Emerson. When Scott offered to purchase his freedom for $300 in 1846, Emerson refused his offer. He then obtained the assistance of two St. Louis attorneys who helped him to sue for his freedom. His 1846 lawsuit was filed in the St. Louis Circuit Court and went to trial in 1847.

Scott lost this case, but later that year he won a second trail. By this point Scott received financial support and legal representation from the sons of Peter Blow, his former owner, who had become anti-slavery advocates, Irene Sanford Emerson’s brother, John Sanford, and her second husband, Dr. C.C. Chaffee, a Massachusetts abolitionist. To all of them the Scott case as an important challenge to slavery.

On March 6, 1857, the United States Supreme Court finally ruled in Dred Scott v Sandford [Sanford was misspelled by a court clerk]. In a 7-2 decision written by Chief Justice Roger B. Taney, the majority of justices said that Scott and all slaves and free blacks were not citizens of the United States and therefore had no standing in the courts. The backlash to this decision strengthened the abolitionist movement and further divided the North and South, leading four years later to the U.S. Civil War.

After he was freed, Dred Scott went to work as a porter in the St. Louis area. He died from tuberculosis in September 1858. Harriett Scott died eighteen years later on June 17, 1876.

CARTER™️ Magazine

#carter magazine #carter #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth #dred scott

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 300. brb x oc

a/n: damn we got to 300 and we are sad huh (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/253/254/255/256/257/258/259/260/261/262/263/264/265/266

/267/268/269/270/271/272/273/274/275/276/277/278/279/280/281/282/283/284/285/286/287/288/289/290/291/292/293/294/295/296/297/298/299

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

-

The soft chime of her phone signaled an incoming call, and Beatrice's heart skipped a beat. She hastily reached for the device, her fingers fumbling slightly in her eagerness. The caller ID displayed a familiar name: Rooster. With a quick intake of breath, she swiped to answer.

"Rooster! Finally, you called! How have you been? Is everything okay?"

On the other end of the line, Rooster's deep voice resonated, carrying a warmth that eased Beatrice's anxieties. "Hey, Bea. I'm... I'm good. Just caught up with a lot of things here. How are you holding up?"

Beatrice settled onto the living room couch, cradling her phone as if it were a lifeline. "I've been worried, you know? The whole situation with the mission... it's been nerve-wracking. Are you okay?"

Rooster sighed, the weariness in his voice not escaping Beatrice's notice. "It's been a challenging time, Bea. We encountered some unexpected complications, and I've been navigating through them. But I wanted to hear your voice, reassure you that I'm doing my best to get through this."

The smile on Bea’s face softened immediately. "I appreciate that, Rooster. I've been on edge, wondering what's going on. Is there anything you can share with me, or is it…classified?"

There was a moment of hesitation on Rooster's end. "I wish I could, Bea. You know how it is with these missions. There are layers of classified information, and sometimes even I don't get the full picture. But I promise I'm doing everything I can to resolve things."

Beatrice nodded, even though Rooster couldn't see her. "I trust you, Rooster. I just... I miss you, that's all."

"I miss you too, Bea. More than you can imagine. These missions take a toll, but knowing I have you to come back keeps me going."

A tender smile touched Beatrice's lips. "You are very sweet.” she whispers, “You know that,right?”

Rooster chuckled on the other end, the sound a brief respite from the gravity of their conversation. "I got it from you, gorgeous. How's everyone doing?"

Beatrice's face warmed just enough, even with his voice sounding so tired he still managed to make her blush. "Well Nicole is growing like a little whirlwind, the twins are getting more active and the dogs... well, they've accepted their role as their personal guardians.”

“A noble position.”

“Hah,I agree.”

Rooster's laughter echoed through the phone, a sound that, for a moment, transported them both beyond the distances "I wish I could be there to witness the chaos. It sounds perfect."

"It is, in its own way," Beatrice replied, her gaze drifting to the photo on the wall ,their wedding photo "It’s just not the same without you, Rooster. The nights get a bit too quiet, you know?"

A solemn sigh traveled through the phone. "I feel it too, Bea. The quiet moments, the absence. Once the mission is wrapped up, I'll be back before you know it."

"I'll hold you to that," Beatrice teased, her playful tone belying the genuine yearning in her heart. "And when you're back, we're having a proper dinner, no military rations allowed."

Rooster laughs again, "No objections here. I could use a home-cooked meal. It's been too long."

Their conversation continued, seamlessly weaving between light-hearted banter and moments of shared vulnerability. Rooster recounted snippets of his mission, careful not to divulge classified details but offering enough for Beatrice to feel connected to his world. Beatrice, in turn, shared anecdotes from their daily life, painting a vivid picture of home that Rooster carried with him in the midst of his responsibilities.

As they spoke, the distance between them seemed to momentarily dissolve, replaced by the intimacy of shared memories and unspoken assurances. Beatrice described the changing seasons, the colors of autumn painting the landscape in hues of gold and crimson. Rooster listened, mentally juxtaposing the vivid imagery with the stark realities of the covert missions he found himself immersed in.

Amidst the exchange of words, Rooster's mind flitted to the events unfolding in the covert meeting. The night air, thick with tension, held a different weight for him. The covert operation demanded his focus, yet the connection with Beatrice provided a fleeting respite—a tether to normalcy in the midst of intrigue and uncertainty.

As the conversation continued, Rooster couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. The delicate balance between duty and personal life often left him grappling with conflicting emotions. Beatrice, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor, voiced her concern.

"Rooster, is everything okay? You seem... distant."

A moment of silence hung in the air before Rooster responded, his voice carrying a weight that mirrored the burden on his shoulders. "It's just... there are things I can't share, Bea. Classified stuff. But I need you to know that you're my anchor through all of this."

Beatrice's empathy cut through the miles that separated them. "You don't have to carry it all alone, Rooster. We're a team, remember? Whatever you can share, I'm here to listen. And whatever you can't, I trust you. Always."

Rooster sighed, the weariness in his voice belying the gratitude he felt. "You're incredible, Bea. Sometimes, I wonder how I got so lucky."

Beatrice chuckled softly, "Well, you did marry me, didn't you?"

"Best decision I ever made," Rooster replied, the sincerity in his voice carrying a depth that resonated with Beatrice. In that moment, their connection transcended the limitations of distance, an unspoken affirmation of the strength of their bond.

However, Beatrice sensed a shift in Rooster's demeanor. She knew her husband too well.. "Rooster, is everything okay? You seem... serious."

Rooster paused,"There's a lot happening on my end, Bea. I need to focus for a bit. But I want you to know that I love you."

Beatrice's heart skipped a beat, a sudden jolt of ice cold exploding in her stomach, her anxiety slowly crawling upwards. "I…I love you too-a-are you leaving?"

He replies, quietly, "Not yet…I just wanted to say that is all.."

Beatrice's mind raced, the sudden shift in Rooster's tone triggering a cascade of emotions. She took a deep breath, anchoring herself in the reassurance that he was still there, even if the miles stretched between them.

"Rooster, you know I support you in everything you do," Beatrice responded, her voice steady despite the undercurrent of concern. "But you also know that you can share more with me. I can handle it."

There was a pause on the other end, as if Rooster weighed his words carefully. "Bea, there's a situation. Something unexpected. It might take a bit longer than I thought."

Beatrice's grip on the phone tightened. The uncertainty of military life had always been a constant, but the acknowledgment of an unexpected situation heightened her anxiety. "Rooster, just... Come back to me, okay? Promise me." she closes her eyes, the fear clawing up her spine, “Promise me Bradley.”

A deep exhale echoed through the phone. "I promise, I promise Bea. I'll be back. I just need to navigate through this."

"I trust you," Beatrice whispered, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken fears and unwavering faith while wiping one lonely tear that dared to slide down her cheek. "Is…everyone else aware of–”

“Yes, pretty much everyone.”

She knew that’d be the most she’d get out of this mission and she could live with that.

“Okay.” she whispers with a small smile, “Okay,that…that does make me feel better, knowing you are not alone in this.”

His hum is soft and followed by a laugh,gentle and quiet “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure,anything you need.”

Another pause “Would you…tell Mav about some of the uh…issues? You know he’d be open talking about it.” and he also missed his uncle’s insight on this.

“Roos…of course. I can do that.”

Rooster felt a mixture of gratitude and guilt for burdening Beatrice with such a request."Thank you, Bea. I know it's an extra load, but Mav can offer a perspective that might help."

Beatrice took a moment to absorb Rooster's words."I'll talk to Mav. And, Rooster, take care of yourself."

A hint of a smile played on Rooster's lips, even if it couldn't be seen through the phone. "I promise. I'll be cautious, and I'll come back to you, Bea. I love you."

"I love you too, Bradley," Beatrice replied, her voice softening with the tenderness reserved for private moments. As they exchanged their final words, the distance between them seemed both tangible and irrelevant, a paradox only those in long-distance relationships truly understood.

After the call ended, Beatrice sat in the quiet of their home, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. She glanced at the photo of Rooster on the wall, in his Navy uniform. She kept her eyes on him, her mouth curling softly into a frown before she sighs and stands up.

Determined to fulfill Rooster's request, Beatrice decided to reach out to Mav. She dialed his number, the familiarity of the ringtone comforting in its own way. After a couple of rings, Mav's voice echoed through the phone. "Hey, Bea! What's up?"

"Hey, Mav. I, uh, need to talk to you about something. It's about Rooster."

A pause on the other end hinted at Mav's curiosity and the slight panic in his words. "Rooster? Everything okay?"

Beatrice took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "There's a situation, Mav. He didn't go into details, but it sounds like things might get complicated. He asked me to talk to you about it."

"Complicated how? Is he in danger?"

"I don't think it's that straightforward," Beatrice explained, trying to convey the uncertainty of the situation. "He's navigating through something unexpected. I could hear it in his voice, Mav... I'm worried. There was…a breach too."

"A breach? What kind of breach?"

Beatrice sighed, rubbing her forehead. "He didn't specify details. Just that it added another layer to an already complicated situation. He's feeling the pressure, and he needs someone to talk to."

Mav's voice softened. "Of course, I get it. Rooster has always been...reserved about certain things. But if he's reaching out through you, it must be serious. Tell me everything you know, Bea."

Beatrice proceeded to recount the details of her conversation with Rooster, careful not to divulge more than he was comfortable sharing. Which honestly, wasn’t a lot because Rooster was very careful.

As she spoke, Mav listened intently, his mind piecing together the fragments of information. When Beatrice finished, a heavy silence lingered on the line. Mav took a moment before responding, "Thanks for letting me know, Bea. I appreciate you looking out for him. This situation sounds like a maze of uncertainties. Rooster rarely opens up about these things unless it’s digging at him."

"I know, Mav. That's why I thought it might help if he talks to you. You've been through a lot together, and your perspective might offer some clarity? Maybe?"

Mav sighed on the other end of the line, a sound laden with a history of shared experiences. "I'll try to talk to him, Bea. He might not say much, but sometimes just having someone there helps."

"Thank you, Mav. I know you've got your own things going on, and I appreciate you being there for him."

There was a moment of silence before Mav spoke again. "Family looks out for each other, right? Rooster…is like a son to me and you are family too,hm? I'll do what I can. Now, you take care of yourself too, Bea. It's not easy being on the other end of the line."

Beatrice chuckled softly, a mix of gratitude and wistfulness in her tone. "Tell me about it. But I'll manage. Just want him back safe."

"He's a tough one, Bea. He'll find his way back."

Beatrice couldn't help but smile at Mav's reassuring words. "I knew I could count on you, Mav. Thanks for being there."

"Anytime, Bea. And hey, give Nicole and the twins a little extra playtime from Grandpa Mav, alright?"

Beatrice laughed, the warmth of familiarity cutting through the seriousness of their conversation. "Will do, Mav. Take care, and keep me posted if Rooster says anything."

"Absolutely, Bea. Talk to you soon."

As the call ended, Beatrice felt a mixture of emotions. The weight of concern for Rooster's well-being lingered,  and her whole body felt weak. She supported herself against the wall, then slid down to the floor where she sat.

Unmoving.

Quiet.

Until she brought her knees up and covered her face with her hands, “We just need a fucking break.” she whispers angrily to herself, making sure to keep her voice low to not wake the kids up “...fuck, what’s all this? First the weirdo neighbors, now this?”

The room echoed with the distant sounds of rain against the window panes, a somber accompaniment to Beatrice's contemplative solitude. She sat on the floor, the weight of the unfolding events pressing down on her shoulders. 

In the stillness of the night, Beatrice allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. Her mind oscillated between worry for Rooster and the relentless challenges that seemed to converge upon her life. The journey from mundane worries about odd neighbors to the enigmatic breach in Rooster's mission had been swift, leaving her grappling with a sense of powerlessness.

She took a deep breath, attempting to steady the swirl of emotions within her. Nicole's toys lay scattered across the living room, silent witnesses to the turmoil that had unfolded in the midst of their innocent play. Beatrice reached for one of the toys, a small plush bear, holding it in her hands as if seeking solace from its silent presence.

The rhythmic patter of rain intensified, a symphony of nature's melancholy that matched the cadence of Beatrice's thoughts. She pondered the fragility of normalcy, how life could shift from the routine of family and playtime to the complexities of covert operations and the lurking shadows of the unknown.

With a heavy sigh, Beatrice rose from the floor, determined to regain a semblance of control. She moved quietly through the dimly lit house, avoiding the creaks in the floor that could disturb the peaceful slumber of her children. 

In the solitude of her bedroom, Beatrice sank into the comfort of the bed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the room in a warm ambiance, offering a refuge from the storm outside. The raindrops tapped gently against the window, a lullaby that accompanied her thoughts.

And there,safe and quiet.

She allowed herself to sob.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[stereopticons]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Thanks for the tag @hippolotamus!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Words and Fics

53,271 words published to ao3

an estimated 31,700 unpublished words in WIPs written this year

2 published fandoms (Schitt's Creek and RWRB) and one unpublished (911)

Most recent drop: currently two advent drabble collections: ribbons and bows (SC) and my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) (RWRB)

Longest (published) fic: we were loud like love (david/patrick, E, 5.1k) (it was a rough year)

Caveat to that is that indie band patrick is currently ~26k and unpublished, all of that was written this year

Top Fics by Kudos

never knew a home until i found your hands (alex/henry, E, 1k)

paint me up (you're my favorite color) (david/patrick, E, 2.5k)

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) (david/patrick, T, 1.3k)

let my love fix you up (david/patrick, T, 1.7k)

tangle and stretch (david/patrick, T, 3.3k)

My fandom fic events in 2023

Raisins in Zhampagne New Years Exchange: the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) (twylexis, T, 2.7k)

Schitt's Creek Rare Fest: your secret's safe with me (stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k)

World BDSM Day Writing Challenge (yes, I'm counting events I made up): catch my breath to breathe your name (david/patrick, E, 300)

Schitt's Creek Passions and Pastimes Fest: crossed words and open hearts (david/patrick, E, 2.6k) and parallax (collab with @indestructibleheart, david/patrick, T, 5k)

Smutsgiving part one and part two

+1-2 fics for Schitt's Creek Frozen Over

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

to finish and publish:

certain songs (aka, indie band patrick): David, owner of the recently re-opened Perennial gallery in New York gets dragged by Stevie to a show where the indie band the Creek Waders are performing. He crosses paths with the frontman and guitarist, Patrick, and finds himself intrigued. Mutual pining, David being an idiot, discussions about queer art, Stevie ex machina, etc etc.

gather up the avenues: David and Patrick dated while in New York but broke up, now neither of them can stand to be in the city because of all the memories. Patrick drives back home to Canada, but ends up stopping in a small town with a ridiculous sign, while David flees to the place with the stupid name his dad bought him for his birthday when he was a kid. I think you can see where this is going.

come on, get higher, loosen my lips: five times alex and henry talk on the phone and one time they wake up together (workshopping this description lol). Actually hoping to finish and publish this in 2023 but we'll see how it goes.

I have a lot of other projects I'd like to finish but I'm not going to list them all here. We'll see how this year goes. I also love an event (clearly) so plan to participate in some of those as they come up (hopefully for both SC and RWRB).

Tagging @indestructibleheart @blackandwhiteandrose @kiwiana-writes @rosedavid @mostlyinthemorning @apothecarose @lizzie-bennetdarcy @smblmn @myheartalivewrites @missgeevious

#fic review 2023

[bloomingcockroaches]

Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

tysm, Lizzy!

1. i do! i've done (surface level) research for loads of my fics for different fandoms, but for POTC i probably did the most research for The Measure of a Man while I was plotting the crew's course from Cuba to Singapore. tfw no panama canal!!!

2. Not really, I find it distracting! I listen to brown noise mostly. I can't listen to music with any lyrics while I write and I find it difficult to focus on my work when there's a melody to follow.

3. Barbossa, definitely, and it has changed in that I feel I have improved. I find him challenging to write for (he is a man twice my age who lived 300 years ago, after all, we have little common ground) and I tend to skirt around this challenge by having him appearing in my fics through the eyes of others. Or else writing his POV while he is mostly dead.

I've also really enjoyed writing Gibbs!! And Elizabeth, whose voice I have also found challenging and whose voice it's important to me to honor.

Send me fanfic writing asks.

#ask tag #flameandignite #fanfic writing asks

[mood2you]

Blog 10: Books from the 00's

I'm reading Late Bloomer by Fern Michaels, you can rely on her for that fantasy of suddenly becoming very rich. In this book Cadwell Jordan moves back to her hometown to take care of her retired actress grandmother, who gets a lot better just by having her in her life again after raising her for 3 years when her parents fled after a mysterious accident. It's kind of like It I guess with no clown and 300 pages, I mean I think it should be longer. I mean I know saying "why isn't a reverse harem of Bev Ed, Ned, and Fred" it's like well, it simply isn't that! Get a grip! Read the summary! When they said "oh, and Ed is single too," they were kidding! I tried Name of the Wind but I might not continue it. I picked up Dead Until Dark Again and it's funny how different the second half is from the first half! Well I actually started this in March, um, and it's a bit too action packed, it sort of feels like 3 unrelated plots are happening, typical reality for someone like Sookie Stackhouse, the murder equivalent of your cat getting sick again as there is a new hire at work and you've lost your flipflops. to make any sense due to the long stretches of time I've inserted into it, the romance is cute.

Dead Until Dark fits the prompt of "building on the cover" (the burning down vampire house ;; from September 2022 Bookopoly, which I was running for myself this month, because I still have the board and it's fun. Well you know what Becca just announced: Spookoplothon, October Bookoplothon! And wouldn't you know it Dead Until Dark fits the parallel prompt on the new board: purple!

I'm also reading Darius the Great is Not Okay, and I keep crying about it. It's about highschool stuff like feeling left out and trying to talk to your dad. It is not a stupid 00's book. And I have the sequel!

On Friday I went swimming, which really was great. I'm always complaining now, this week, yesterday, because it's only high 80's. Which is very hot in the sun, on a calm, still day, with increasing humidity. Is that good swimming weather? It's not the weather I'm complaining about, it's how much work goes into swimming. Changing, getting towels, getting drinks, drying off, and so on... Also, I prepared wrongly for this summer. This week in particular, last year, was 110 and on fire, and I was very stressed out because I didn't want to have to evacuate all the animals alone. In June it was 80's and always rained and I basically threw that away, sleeping through it. And this week it's finally back to 80's. It was only 105 those two days I made sure to complain about it.

On Saturday I picked up another book by F. Paul Wilson for Halloween to pair with Midnight Mass a friend gave me. This book is The Tomb, it's like Three For The Money which I read last week, instead of bounty hunters it's a PI looking for, so far, a creepy looking necklace and a missing person his ex's mother. I think PI's dislike cops more bounty hunters but cops get in the way of either. It is dissimilar in that it's from 1984 and Three To Get Deadly is from the 00's.

On Sunday I had stewed pork. On Monday I watched the big game. On Tuesday I swung by Friends of the Library to get Wicked Business because I liked Three To Get Deadly alright and so I'm giving Lizzie and Diesel another shot. Basically this week is all about stupid books from the 00's. Incredibly I have a book about the Millenium Meltdown of computers bricking themselves (or worse) at midnight on 2000, but the kicker is it's from 1998 so it's not about the hysteria, it's just conspiracy theories about microchips, I'll have to start that too since some of these books are actually on the cusp.

Weirdly I'm set up nicely to try that challenge I had of reading (finishing) one book a day, maybe start on the 15.

#blog #tumblr #books #poll

[independentartistbuzz]

Goodnight Sunrise Shine on "Friends Like You"

Toronto rock band, Goodnight Sunrise, was founded through a shared love of pop hooks and the raw power of classic rock. Since 2011, the band have taken their explosive live show to over 300 audiences across Canada, the US, and Europe, opening up for Bon Jovi, Big Wreck, and The Sheepdogs along the way.

“Friends Like You” is about the type of friend who's around when things are going badly so they can feel better about themselves, but who won't show up to celebrate wins. It's a heavy, riff-driven modern blues rock anthem featuring dual vocals, thunderous drums and Thin Lizzy style ‘guitarmonies’.

Stream their new single, “Friends Like You,” via SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/gnsrband/friends-like-you

https://linktr.ee/goodnightsunrise

Their explosive third full-length album, Against All Odds, will be released on October 7, 2022. Produced by Brian Moncarz (Alice Cooper, Circa Survive), mastered by Brian Lucey (Green Day, Arctic Monkeys) and recorded with the rhythm section of Our Lady Peace. The album title is a testament to Goodnight Sunrise emerging from the last couple years the same way they have taken on every challenge since the band started.

[webcricket]

The Wake-Up Call

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 3961

A/N: One-shot written for @narisjournal-blog Lizzie’s 300 Follower Challenge with the prompt – “Breakfast hadn’t prepared her for today’s events.” Whether human or angelic, sometimes all a heart needs is a wake-up call to admit what existed therein all along. And breakfast, of course – it’s the most important meal of the day. Equal parts humor, angst, suspense, and fluff.

Breakfast hadn’t prepared you for today’s events. Your eyelids fluttered open to a black void. At least you hoped the lack of light was because of its total absence in whatever hell hole you’d landed in and not something worse. A high-pitched ringing lambasted your ears, interrupted by a low involuntary gurgling groan vibrating in your throat as you botched a dizzying attempt to clamber upright into a semi-vertical position. The headache you’d nursed all day – the result of sheer exhaustion coupled with an empty stomach – had attained a whole new level of excruciating pain. You clawed at your ears, the source of the piercing buzz. You were fairly certain the intense noise originating from within your skull was your brain attempting to escape your cranium from the inside out; the gelatinous grey matter deciding just then it was unwilling to tolerate the inhumane conditions of this day any longer. You couldn’t blame it for trying, however ill-timed the endeavor. Dismissing the clearly concussed nonsense flitting through your conscious mind, you reasoned the renewed ruthlessness of the throbbing and noise probably had more to do with the massive bruise forming on your temple and the sticky liquid oozing from your split eyebrow and stinging your dark-blind vision. You groaned again – the act of thinking hurt.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Castiel called out to you; his gruff voice echoed off the walls of the room – at least you supposed it was an enclosed room based on the reverberating acoustics.

“More or less,” you mumbled, dabbing at your bleeding brow with the base of your palm to redirect the flow of blood before dragging yourself across the floor toward the sound of rustling fabric. You figured there was less chance of vertigo-induced fainting and the resultant further head trauma if you remained mostly recumbent as an intimately close captive of gravity. No use aiding and abetting in your brain’s prison break. That, and since falling through a trap door disguised as a perfectly ordinary appearing floor mere moments ago, you had a few trust issues to work out about the perceived solidity of solid surfaces.

“Good,” the word fell oddly strained off the angel’s tongue. He grunted in a manner strongly suggestive of profound agony.

“Cas?” you cried out in alarm, pulse amplifying to a tinny whine in your ears with a rush of adrenaline.

He answered with a wet gasping cough.

You risked rising to your knees to crawl the remainder of the distance to him. Your fingers grazed the rubber sole of a boot, following the attached ankle, calf, and knee as guideposts to his body proper. Shuffling forward, you knelt in a disconcertingly large and viscous puddle. Fingertips ghosting over his thighs, you reached up and out into the darkness. Touching his shuddering chest, you located and cupped his face in your palms, pads of your thumbs smearing the tacky fluid collecting at the corners of his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he sputtered, rather unconvincingly. Weakly grasping at your wrist, his fingers were cold and trembling. “Are you certain you’re alright? I-I didn’t recognize the sigil until it was too late. I should have known this was a trap.”

“Nothing a little Aspirin won’t cure,” you dismissed his concern, your own worry for him more pressing. You felt his brow – his vessel going clammy with shock – shock he shouldn’t be experiencing as a celestial being. You gingerly palpated his torso until your fingertips hit the sharp spike of steel rebar protruding from his lower abdomen. You reflexively gasped as he moaned in response to your grim discovery. Judging from the current of blood gushing out around the entry point of the serrated shaft of metal, it had nicked or punctured something major. “Fine? You call this fine?” You shrugged out of your jacket and, wadding it into a tight ball, applied firm pressure to the wound.

“It’s-” he grunted.

“You’re bleeding out. Why aren’t you healing?” you cut him off, swallowing a sickening surge of fear at the thought of losing the angel. Up until now you took for granted there would be plenty of time to find the courage to tell him how you felt. Time to show him how much his kindness and care meant to you. Time to explore the budding emotion that caused your heart to flutter whenever he was near.

“The walls, I-,” he choked, abdomen racked spasmodically, lungs seized by an agonal pang of anguish as they flooded with fluid.

“Shh,” you soothed, voice cracking, “don’t talk, just…just try to relax. I’m right here. I need you to stay with me.” You instinctively reached for his cheek. Inclining forward, you rested your forehead against his as the convulsion passed. “Please Cas,” you whispered, salty warm tears overflowing to rain upon his skin, “please. Promise me.”

He sucked in a rattling breath, covering your hand with his own, giving your fingers a feeble reassuring squeeze. He would do anything in his power that you asked of him – anything – and he deeply regretted the extant matter of his dying was entirely out of his control. He refused to lie to you. “Sam…Dean…will find us,” his voice emerged a faint murmur muffled by the blood ascending his gullet. “They’ll double back…any minute…find us.” He had to believe they’d find you. Rescue you in time. The alternative was unacceptable.

“Any minute,” you sniffled agreement, nodding into his brow. Assuming, your brain opined, they haven’t fallen victim to a similar trap. The angel needed help now. You couldn’t wait for rescue that might never arrive. “Hey Cas-?”

His fingers twitched in acknowledgement

“Suppose those numbskulls need us to rescue them. Can you see any way out of this place?”

The pitch black room was rapidly growing darker to his angelic sight. The sight that allowed him to read with clarity his death sentence aglow upon the four walls – intricate warding sigils carved into the cement and designed to paralyze the healing power of his grace and render him essentially mortal – an angelic death trap unseen by you with your constraints of human perception. Blinking, he returned his gaze to your red-rimmed unfocused eyes – the vibrant warmth of your soul washing over him in the gloom. He watched a single tear pool and spill over your lashes. Hope – it was his favorite quality in humans – your most endearing virtue and most vexing fault. How many times had you stubbornly maintained hope when all appeared lost? When he saw none? He looked again to the walls and saw it – directly behind you – a defect in the outline of a door. No lock, no knob, no way to open it. Only hope.

“Angel?”

His vessel’s heart began to race in a futile attempt to circulate the blood that didn’t fill his veins any longer. He knew he should tell you about the door. Maybe there was a way out. More likely it was only a way in. And right now he selfishly needed you to hold him. Needed the comfort of your touch. He was scared to die alone and in the dark. There was so much he needed to say and so little time. “Y/N-” He felt himself falling, your name the final softly spoken sentiment on his tongue as consciousness failed him. Fingers sliding from the bare flesh of your arms, he tried desperately to hold on, to anchor himself to your presence, to somehow express to you the breadth of the love he held confined within his heart before its final beat.

“Cas!” you sobbed, catching him and cushioning his head as he slumped and crumpled limp to the floor.

* * * * *

You blindly bashed at the motel alarm clock in a vain attempt to silence the bass assault upon your eardrums. It kept insisting you awaken, even after you yanked the cord from the outlet in a delirium of rage and launched the whole contraption into the oblivion otherwise known as the middle of the room.

“Y/N.”

It seems someone, at some point, had told the abrasive timepiece your name, and you were not at all amused. “Leave me alone!” you moaned into the lumpy pillow, the actual syllables emerging from your throat in the garbled and incomprehensible groaning speech characteristic of the half-asleep human.

“Y/N, you overslept. Again.”

Now the damn thing was judging you. You popped open a dry sleep-crusted eye, blinking against the harsh early morning light spilling in from the spaces between the drawn curtains.

Castiel stood at your bedside, apathetic blue eyes squinting back at you.

“Ugh!” you groaned, yanking the blanket over your head and burrowing deeper into pillow. “Why?”

The angel cocked his head in thought. “It’s already past 7AM,” he suggested in answer to your vague query.

“Cas,” you mumbled, tone undulating to a drawn out whine as if this would instill greater meaning to your question, repeating, “why?”

Cas looked off to the left, jaw clenching as he tried, very hard, without intruding upon your private thoughts for clarification, to determine what, precisely, you wanted him to say. You had a way of confounding him he found at once frustrating and delightfully charming. Flummoxed, expression softening diffidently, he simply offered again with a shrug, “You overslept.”

“Under-slept,” you corrected. “As in, not enough, short of, needed more.”

“That makes sense,” he agreed. “Over implies too much of something. And your irritable mood definitely suggests that this is not the case.”

You were fairly certain the angel just called you cranky. From anyone else, you would have taken it as an insult and retorted with a demonstration of precisely how grouchy you were capable of being when provoked. But with Cas, you knew it was innocent observation. Sitting up with a huff and throwing off the covers, you jammed your fingers into your eye sockets to rub away the vestiges of sleep. Your fingers moved to massage the headache kindling into existence at your temples.

“Sam and Dean went out for breakfast.”

You looked over at the angel and yawned, “And you’re still here.”

Eyes narrowing, he glanced down at himself then back to you, mumbling, “I appear to be.”

You snorted a laugh. “I mean you didn’t go with them.”

He shook his head, fingers fumbling in his pockets. “I thought-”

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, mouth stretching in another lazy yawn as you watched his methodical search.

He produced a granola bar from inside his suit pocket, offering it to you with a small proud smile. “I thought you might be hungry too.”

“Um, thanks Cas.” You turned the foil-wrapped bar over in your fingers, noting the labelled expiration date of nine years prior.

“You’re welcome,” he beamed. “Uh, Jimmy had it in his pocket when-,” he prattled, gesturing at himself “-you know. I’ve held on to it all these years just in case.”

The gift was so sincere, you overcame your skepticism about the bar’s vintage and ripped the corner of the package open. The brown congealed mass inside was rock hard and definitely going to break your teeth if you tried to consume it. You bit your lip and peered up at the angel. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You needed a distraction. “Hey, you know what would be great with this?”

His eyes willingly glinted.

“A cup of coffee. I think I saw a machine in the motel office. You mind grabbing me one while I hop in the shower?” It wasn’t food, but you hoped the caffeine would help your aching head.

“Of course.” He turned to leave the room.

“And Cas?” you called after him.

Fingers poised on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder.

“When you come back and forget to knock and walk in to find me half-naked, don’t act so dumbfounded. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The angel’s cheeks flushed as he scurried out the door.

* * * * *

“Grigori,” Cas growled when Sam peeled the sheet back to reveal the cold corpse resting beneath – the grey human husk marred with purple bruising and layer upon layer of distinct scars on the arms where the angelic abomination had fed upon the human soul within for years. “They’re supposed to be extinct.”

“Yeah, well, not so much,” Dean griped, motioning for Sam to shroud the body. “Looks like those dimwitted dicks upstairs let more than one of these soul-suckers slip through the cracks. Is anyone surprised? Anyone? No? No one?”

The angel cast Dean a grim glare.

Your stomach rumbled.

“Seriously?” Sam arched a brow at you.

Evidently brutally tortured dead bodies and the antiseptic smell of the morgue did little to deter your hunger. You rolled your eyes, muttering in your stomach’s defense, “You could’ve at least brought me back a bagel or something.”

“Hey, you snooze you lose, sweetheart.” Dean smirked.

“Dean,” Cas chided, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“I heard that’s just a myth perpetrated by the cereal industry,” Dean countered.

“Says the man who thinks bacon is a food group,” you argued.

“And cheeseburgers,” Cas helpfully suggested.

“They are, grouped on a plate, with extra fries.” Dean’s green eyes twinkled in self-amusement.

“Guys!” Sam scolded, wagging his jaw at the deceased. “A little respect?”

Your stomach rumbled louder. “Sorry,” you sheepishly pressed your palm to your belly.

“What about the granola bar I gave you?” Cas questioned.

“Not that granola bar?” Dean exchanged a knowing glance with his brother as he picked up the coroner’s report.

Cas looked up between them, a confused cock to his head.

“The one you’ve been trying to pawn off on us for years,” Sam clarified. “The one I’ve personally tried to throw away, what? Seven or eight times now?”

“I stopped counting,” Dean added, skimming the report.

“You didn’t actually eat it, did you?” Sam’s forehead creased in genuine concern.

You shook your head, raising your eyes to meet the angel’s wounded blues. “Sorry Cas, it’s-” You fished the stale bar out of your pocket and offered it back to him. “Well, whatever it is, it was a still nice gesture and I appreciated it.”

“Says here they scraped creosote oil from her skin.” Dean’s gaze lifted from the notes, redirecting you back to the case.

“But the police report said the body was found in a seasonal cabin, miles from town.” Sam peered over his brother’s shoulder. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless he moved her,” Cas reached under the sheet and carefully lifted a shriveled hand. Stooping, he brought her fingers to his nose and inhaled.

Dean’s features twisted in horror.

Stomach acid churning, you turned away, fighting a wave of nausea.

“What is it?” Sam inquired – significantly less grossed out by the action than the rest of you.

“It’s specifically the type of preservative used as a flame retardant,” Cas explained.

“Like-” you gagged “-like the stuff they use to treat lumber?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, delicately folding the woman’s hand to place it under the sheet, “exactly like that.”

“We passed an abandoned lumber mill on the way into town last night,” you pointed out.

“I’d say that’s as good a lead as any.” Dean tossed the file aside. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

“Get them out of here!” you whisper-screamed, tugging on Dean’s jacket sleeve. A young man and an even younger girl lay restrained and unconscious on dingy cots, wandering in the dream-world created for them by the Grigori. An array of giant rusted, but nonetheless menacing, metal saw blades hung from the walls around them. You recalled the boy’s smiling picture from a missing person’s poster you saw at the police station earlier. With any luck they could both be saved. If it had only been weeks, not years, since they were taken perhaps they were still strong enough to survive.

Sam rushed to cut the young man’s bindings, gently cradling the boy’s frail frame in his arms.

“Now!” you ran ahead, sending a subdued shout of further instruction over your shoulder before Dean could launch a protest. “Come back for us.” You disappeared through the same door Cas vanished through moments ago.

The murky hall streaked with eerie horizontal beams of dust illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight. The footprints on the freshly disturbed sawdust strewn floor indicated Cas had gone right. You readjusted your grip on your angel blade, holding it at the ready as you as you ventured ahead. Cas? you prayed, not wanting to risk alerting the Grigori, if it was here, to your presence. Cas? Where are you?

Cas heard your prayer as he tarried at the far end of the hall, calloused fingertips distractedly tracing a sigil burned into the wooden beams there. It seemed at once familiar and foreign to him.

The angel stood transfixed as you approached him. You flattened a hand to his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I don’t-” he mumbled, his fingers following the winding lines inward to the heart of the strange sigil, unable to stop himself from completing the pattern, “-know.” Blinding light blazed from the charred symbol, radiating from the center outward and stinging your vision. Cas’ blue eyes flamed in reflected horror. Too late, he pivoted and tried to shove you backward out of danger. The floor hinged beneath your feet. Unbalanced, you stumbled forward into his arms, both of you tumbling tangled into the abyss. He did the only thing he could do to protect you then – wrapping his arms about you as you fell, he twisted your bodies, using himself to buffer you from whatever fate awaited below.

* * * * *

“No, no, no! Don’t you do this, you hold on! Castiel, you’re not going anywhere; do you hear me?” You smoothed the angel’s hair, his head rolling limply in your worrying hands. A thready uneven pulse still quivered in his neck.

A metallic lock disengaged behind you with an almost imperceptible ting.

Rocking to your heels, you turned to confront the sound. You squinted against the bright light suddenly pouring through the crack of a door. Holding a hand up to shield your eyes, your heart leapt into your throat in the hope it was Sam or Dean looming outside the entry in backlit shadow. Instinct told you otherwise. Dark-adjusted eyes struggling to locate your lost weapon, you saw the angel blade glinting well out of reach. You scrambled to your feet, grasping a stray piece of the same steel rebar that impaled Cas as you rose. Placing yourself squarely between the door and the fallen angel, you waited.

“Ah, how splendid!” the dark figure bellowed with laughter. “Fresh fodder and a foe bagged together. And to think I believed after billions of years I’d seen everything.”

“Who are you?” you wielded the rebar in front of you, beginning to discern the figure’s sneering features as your sight adapted. You had a good idea it was the Grigori. You also had no immediate plan and needed to stall.

The man chuckled again, flicking his wrist and sending you careening like a ragdoll sideways into the wall.

This did nothing to improve your headache. Smashing face first, you collapsed into a bloodied heap.

He strolled across the threshold into the room, squatting over Cas to admire his handiwork with a smug grin.

The Grigori misjudged both your resilience as a hunter and your devotion to Cas. Head spinning, you slithered up the wall, brain becoming vaguely aware and kindly sharing its notice of the winding imperfections in the concrete below your fingertips. Sigils. They were sigils. Of course! No wonder Cas couldn’t heal. And that meant maybe…you clutched at the rebar and hoped. Lurching forward, you plowed into the Grigori, using the force of your body’s momentum to propel the piece of steel through his ribcage, skewering his vessel’s heart.

Gasping in sheer surprise, fingers clawing useless at his chest, he keeled over backward, powerless, doomed to die by his own trap.

Summoning the last of your strength, willing yourself to not to pass out in spite of the odd hollow and simultaneously fuzzy sensation overtaking half your skull, you staggered to Cas. You picked up his ankles, drawing them up to your waist and locking his feet within your elbows, you leaned heavily backward, dragging him inch by excruciating inch from the room. When the final strand of his hair traversed into the safety of the sigil-less room beyond, your knees buckled. Curling up beside him, you wrenched free the rebar penetrating his abdomen. Thankfully you couldn’t hear the moist sucking sound the metal made as it tore through his vessel’s liver over the ringing in your ears. Steel clattering to the floor, you succumbed to the overwhelming desire to close your eyes and sleep.

* * * * *

A steady beep pulsed as a distant echo your dream. You reclined against a tree – the bark smooth and soft where it touched your back. The verdant grass lush and cool beneath your legs. The sun shone warm on your skin. The sky above stretched infinite and blue.

“I think she’s waking up.”

“Be quiet, Dean.”

You looked down to see the hand embracing yours and opened eyes you didn’t realize were shut.

“Y/N?”

You blinked and Castiel’s concerned features slowly came into focus. Trembling with effort, you reached up to try to caress his scruffy chin to prove to yourself he was real. He grasped your fingers midway and drew them to his lips to place a tender kiss thereupon. He seemed to surprise himself with the action.

“You’re alive,” your voice cracked hoarsely.

He nodded, a subtle smile curving his mouth and softening his blue gaze. “Thanks to you.”

You winced when you tried to smile, the shattered bones in your cheek crackling.

“Try not to move,” he frowned at perceiving your pain, brushing the backs of his fingers gently over your face, grace tingling to sooth but not mend your injury. “I’m not strong enough to heal you yet.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to laugh, which was an even worse idea than smiling based on the shooting pain radiating from your fractured ribs.

“Liar,” Dean teased from the end of the bed. “Good to have you back, kiddo.” He gave your foot a light squeeze, somehow knowing this was the only body part of yours that didn’t hurt.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And nice work back there. You’ll be happy to know those kids are going to make a complete recovery too. We’ll leave you to get some rest and you’ll be out of here in no time.” He nudged his brother toward the door.

Cas moved to rise.

You caught the angel’s wrist and he settled back into the chair as Sam and Dean left the room.

He sat quietly for a while, fidgeting with his focus as he grappled in silence with everything he wanted to say to you. He peered around at the drab medical machinery of the room, spent a few minutes scrutinizing the ceiling, and few more contemplating the linoleum floor tiles before his attention drifted to you.

“I-” you both spoke at the same time. He nodded yieldingly.

“Cas, I thought-” Tears welled in your eyes.

His hand found yours.

“I thought I lost you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Holding your palm to his cheek, he relaxed into the warmth of your touch.

Your fingers tickled the dark curls at his temple. “I can’t lose you, angel. I-”

“I love you too,” he finished your declaration, eyes gleaming wet as he gazed back with shared affection. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, whispering into your skin, “Now rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

#lizzie's 300 challenge #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel reader insert #castiel x y/n #castiel fluff #castiel angst #cas x reader #cas x you #spn reader insert #you x cas #reader x cas #castielxreader #castielxyou #you x castiel #reader x castiel #castiel oneshot #castiel fanfic #cricket writes cas

[natasha-cole]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

Uh, I may have been a little to excited about this; because I literally finished my fic challenge like two days after it was posted. This is for @narisjournal-blog and her 300 follower challenge!

My prompt was #317, which will be bold in the story.

Summary: You and Rob only meant to get back at your friends for the years of jokes and teasing they put you through. When you agreed to help Rob, you didn’t realize he’d take it this far.

Word Count: 7272

No pairing, just Rob x Reader centered

Warnings: swearing, minor injury

Note: I feel like this might be set up weird. You’re basically starting with a conversation on Sunday to get the basic set up of the story; then going back to the beginning of the weekend. The story will end up on Sunday Afternoon following the Sunday morning discussion. Hopefully that makes sense.LOL! Also, titles are not my forte.

Sunday Morning

“Before I started this, you told me you would have my back - no matter what,” Rob said in a hushed voice.

“I know and I’m sorry. But this is getting out of hand and I just can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t get to walk out on me now, that’s not how this works. I won’t let you.” Rob said firmly. He placed a hand over yours, trying to calm you as he could probably sense your anxiety in the moment.

“P-please, Rob. We can’t keep doing this. This isn’t what I agreed to.”

“You agreed to help me, no matter what. We agreed to help each other.”

“But, not to this extent. I didn’t know it was all going to turn into this!” You freed your hand from his, waving both arms about wildly to emphasize the complete and utter disaster you were both finding yourselves in.

“Regardless of what you expected, this is where we are. There’s no turning back now.”

“We’re going to get caught, you know that, right? They’ll all know it was us.” You tried to make him realize that eventually, all of this was going to catch up with you. There were a handful of your fellow actors and friends at this convention, it would only be a matter of time before they began to weed each other out as the suspects, leaving you and Rob as the only possible answer to the chaos that was now rapidly unfolding.

“We’re too far in this to back out now,” he reminded you.

“You told me it was just going to be one day,” you sputtered, “one day and then we’d stop. What is wrong with you? How did I let you talk me into this?”

“It was only supposed to be one day, but I am so tired of how much they all mess with me. I’m always the butt of the joke, the one they pick on. Don’t tell me that you don’t get sick of it too.”

“Sure, I do… but don’t you think we’re handling this all wrong? Don’t you think this has gone too far?”

“No.” Rob stated, face red out of what was almost something like anger. You hadn’t realized until now how deeply offended Rob had been by the constant joking and pranks that the others had put him through this weekend. For some reason, they had gotten worse, leaving Rob in a constant state of panic over every little thing. You assumed it had a lot to do with Halloween coming just around the corner; the usual practical jokes and teasing had increased in the green room and on stage, almost all of those being aimed directly at Rob and yourself. You had already endured multiple embarrassments on Thursday; fake spiders in your bag, cheese still wrapped in plastic in your sandwich at lunch, even Skittles mixed in with your bowl of M&Ms. All of it had been cruel; but you knew that Rob received even worse. You actually had to stop him when he began to tell you that someone had managed to get into his hotel room and covered the toilet bowl with plastic wrap.

All of this was your own faults really. The two of you had always been picked on; on set and at conventions. It was as if you were just easy targets and everyone knew it. You hated how gullible you were, and you were sure Rob hated that about himself as well.

“Rob…” you trailed off for a moment, thinking hard about the situation that the two of you had gotten yourself into, “I’m afraid we’ll get caught. When we do, they’re going to be even worse to us.”

“They haven’t caught us yet, especially since we’ve pitted them against each other,” Rob replied. He turned to you, giving you a sly look, those blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Rob, we can’t. This one is just… too advanced for us. We’ll never get away with it.”

“We’ve got to try.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” you muttered, suddenly fearful for his next move.

“Oh, it’s going to be so good though,” he grinned.

The Friday Before

“This is so stupid…”

“What? This is a great idea, I saw it on Pinterest.”

“You have a Pinterest?” You asked, raising a brow at him as you worked.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that this prank is hilarious. Kim is going to be so grossed out.”

“Well, if brushing your teeth is gross, then yeah, I imagine she’ll be horrified,” you said sarcastically as you continued to scrape the cream filling from the Oreos, handing the chocolate cookies over to Rob who was refilling them with toothpaste.

“It’s gross because she won’t expect it, no one wants a mouth full of toothpaste when they’re biting into a cookie.”

You sighed heavily, “you know, I really thought you were going to be ruthless with this whole thing. Toothpaste cookies are hardly an epic prank.”

“This is only the beginning,” he promised, “I’ve got more ideas, and I assume you’ve done your homework?”

“Yeah, I have. Mine are… different than your ideas. But yours are cute.”

“Cute? I’m trying to be cruel here.”

“Oh honey, you need to try a little harder. Perhaps starting with the harmless pranks is best though.”

Rob scowled at you, “I thought this was pretty mean.”

“Well, since you’re forcing me to do this, I’ve made sure to come up with some ideas that are way worse. You really aren’t capable of being mean. No wonder everyone picks on you.”

Rob frowned at you as he finished filling the last of the Oreos. You worked together, replacing them into the container carefully, hoping that your work wasn’t sloppy. When you both decided you were okay with how it turned out, Rob gathered the container and the empty toothpaste bottle and you both headed out of your hotel room.

Once inside the greenroom, you carefully looked around, hoping that no one would be there. It was early in the morning on Friday; you and Rob made sure to get an even earlier start on your prank so that you could beat everyone else to the convention area. The only people present were a few security and volunteers; all of which Rob very discreetly paid off to pretend that they didn’t see anything. You made your way to the food table which was already filled with snacks and drinks; carefully placing the oreos front and center. If there was anything that Kim couldn’t resist, it was the creamy chocolatey goodness of an Oreo cookie. She was your first target. Decided upon by Rob after he found out that she had been the one to put shaving cream in his shoes yesterday.

“For good measure,” Rob whispered as he grabbed some of the water bottles from the table, reaching into his pocket to retrieve what looked like a small pin. You watched him curiously as he took the pin and began to poke small holes in the sides of each water bottle.

“What are you doing?” You asked finally.

“When one of those jerks grabs for a drink, they’re going to be surprised when they get all wet,” he laughed.

“Wow,” you replied, “you really are evil. Let me guess, Pinterest?”

“Shut up,” he said as he kept working. When he was finished, he replaced the water bottles and you were actually sort of amazed that there wasn’t already water leaking everywhere given how many holes he has poked into each one. You nodded your approval as you both quickly gathered your evidence.

By now, your heart was racing at the thought of being caught. Rob had taken a little too much time setting up his water bottle prank, and you wanted to get out of there before anyone could realize that you had been there before everyone. You scrambled now, grabbing the empty bottle of toothpaste; you still didn’t understand why Rob had even brought it to begin with.

“Hurry!” you whispered, “Anyone could show up at any minute.”

You started for the door, power walking as your anxiety picked up.

“Y/N! Wait!” Rob shouted, grabbing you by the arm. He took the toothpaste bottle from your hand and ran over to the table where they had all been sitting yesterday. Rob held the bottle up for you to see, giving you a cunning look before slipping it underneath a jacket that had been left on the table.

“Is that… is that Billy’s jacket?” you asked.

“Yeah it is,” Rob chuckled, “and he’s about to be suspect number one.”

Rob raced back to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door, both of you smiling as adrenaline pumped through you.

You returned to the green room later, as the others started to arrive. You only hoped that you got there before anyone fell victim to your pranks. You wanted to keep yourselves as the least suspected, but you didn’t want to miss out on their reactions. The band was there already, along with Rich; so you sat on the couch and began to thumb through your phone as Rob grabbed a guitar and began to strum on the other side of the room. You made sure you distanced yourselves, trying to seem inconspicuous.

Kim finally entered, followed by Briana; both talking excitedly to each other. Your breath caught as they made their way to the food table. You glanced quickly at Rob who met your stare briefly before going back to ignoring everyone.

You watched nervously as Kim inevitably grabbed for an Oreo. She and Briana were still chatting as she brought it to her mouth, taking a bite. Your breathing stopped, waiting for her reaction.

“What the hell?” Kim shouted, spitting the cookie out into a napkin, “is that toothpaste? Did someone put toothpaste in the Oreos?!”

She glanced around the room, eyeing each of you accusingly. You froze for a moment, waiting as she continued to scan the room for the culprit. She stopped suddenly on an unsuspecting Rich.

“You,” she said slowly, pointing directly at him. Rich looked up at her, mouth agape despite the bagel that he had just shoved into his mouth.

“Me?” He asked, pointing to himself, eyes wide in disbelief at her accusation.

You forced yourself to not laugh, instead focusing on the fight that was unfolding in front of you.

“Yeah you,” Kim replied, “who else would come up with a dumb prank like this?”

Your eyes darted to Rob who was now looking up from his guitar, that scowl present on his face as he seemed hurt that someone thought his prank was dumb.

“Hey, it wasn’t me, okay,” Rich defended himself, “I wouldn’t touch your stupid Oreos, I’m not an idiot.”

Kim scoffed at him, reaching for a bottled water to probably wash the taste of toothpaste and chocolate out of her mouth. She grabbed it by the lid, moving it to her other hand where she then placed a firm grasp on it. You sucked in a breath as she did so, waiting. Before Kim could even think about taking the lid off, water began to squirt everywhere, soaking the front of her shirt as well as Briana’s who happened to be standing too close to her. You smiled slightly, impressed that Rob had taken the time to poke that many holes in the bottles.

“What the hell?!” Kim screamed again as she tried to understand what was going on. By the time she realized what was happening, most of the water was gone, and covering her and Briana.

“Really?!” Briana shouted, looking down at herself in disgust, “now I look like I’ve pissed myself.”

“That’s a good look for you,” Rich chuckled, still shoveling the bagel into his mouth.

“You think you’re so clever,” Kim spat back.

“It wasn’t me!” He defended himself again.

“Really guys?” Billy chimed in finally, rolling his eyes as Rich and Kim exchanged words. “This is stupid. Really bad pranks…” he continued as he moved toward the table. He reached for his jacket suddenly, laughing at Kim and Briana’s misfortune.

“Haha,” said Briana, “you wouldn’t think it was funny if it were you.”

“Whatever,” Billy mumbled. As he lifted his jacket off the table, the empty toothpaste bottle remained on the table, directly underneath where his jacket had been.

“What’s that?” Rich asked curiously. Billy reached down, picking up the bottle and examined it.

“It’s toothpaste…” he mumbled.

“Aha!” Shouted Kim, rushing toward Billy. “An empty toothpaste bottle! You are terrible at this, you’re not supposed to keep the evidence.”

“I-It wasn't me,” Billy stuttered, now looking scared as Kim glared at him.

“Yeah right, I’m sure you just happen to carry this around with you.”

“I was framed!” Billy shouted. “That’s not mine, I didn’t do it!”

“Just watch your back, Moran,” Briana threatened, eyeing him now, “you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Just then a handler entered the room, letting Rob, Rich, and the band know that they were due on stage. They each hurried for the door, eager to escape the glares of Kim and Briana. As Rob walked past you, he shot you a sly wink causing you to smile uncontrollably. Your plan had worked beautifully. Before you would even realize it, Kim would be hatching a plan to get back at Billy. You and Rob had gotten away with it completely, no one even suspected the two of you. When they all left the room; Kim and Briana following since their panel was first, you sat back with a pleased grin on your face, thinking of ways you could prank the others and who you would frame for each trick you played.

The rest of Friday went smoothly. You had managed to find Rob at one point when you both were actually not busy with something. The others were slowly starting to get back at each other. Kim had replaced Billy’s ketchup at lunch with hot sauce. Billy, who was not one to mess around, acted as if nothing was wrong when he bit into his lunch. Everyone was aware that something was wrong though when he turned beet red and he began to sweat. He chewed his food though, eyeing Kim as he powered through it. You had to hand it to him, he really wasn’t going to let her win this one.

When you and Rob finally had a moment, you snuck off together to plan your next prank. This was one that you had come up with to get back at Rich for the way he had made fun of you yesterday.

“Did you get the stuff?” You whispered to Rob as you both hid in what seemed to be a storage closet.

“Of course I did,” he answered, digging through his bag. He handed you a handful of small hand sanitizers and a couple bottles of glue. “Do you know how hard it is to find clear glue?” He asked as he watched you work.

You began to open the hand sanitizers, dumping the contents into a bag. When you were finished, you began to fill the bottles with the clear glue that Rob had managed to find for you.

“If there’s one thing Rich hates, it’s germs,” you began, “we’ll see how much he likes his hand sanitizer now.”

You sealed the bottles and put them back in Rob’s bag. Rob watched you, a pleased grin spread across his face.

“You sure you can get these to Rich’s table without him knowing?” You asked.

“I have my connections,” Rob explained.

Unfortunately, you had missed out on how your glue prank for Rich had gone. It was set up during autographs, which you weren’t a part of that day, so it would have seemed odd for you to be in the room when you didn’t need to be. You waited in the green room as everyone else finished up their day, listening to conversations over how so and so was going to get so and so back, and how so and so did such and such to them. You felt yourself glowing with pride, knowing that it had been you and Rob to set off such a staggering string of events so far.

When Rob was finished for the day, he whisked you off to his room before Karaoke, eagerly filling you in on the details of your prank on Rich that he had had the pleasure of witnessing.

“Ugh,” you pouted, “I wish I could have seen his face.”

“It was perfect, the second after he shook that first hand and went for the sanitizer, I could barely breathe. You should have seen his face, it was classic.”

You and Rob giggled together as he replayed the entire thing; watching Rich’s face when he realized something wasn’t right, him waiting for someone to come back with something to clean his hands with, Rich glaring at the other actors in the room as he tried to figure out who had done this.

“We’ve got one more we can do,” Rob continued, “tonight at karaoke.”

“No,” you replied, “maybe we should chill for the day. We’ve managed to get away with a couple of really good ones, let’s not push our luck.”

“We’re going to get Matt tonight,” he argued.

“Not that one,” you gasped, “we decided not to go there…”

“We have to do it, it’s too good.”

“Okay,” you agreed finally, “then we need to chill out.”

Karaoke

You watched Matt as he dressed for karaoke that night. Rob stood next to you, slipping on his white and red striped vest and putting that ridiculous hat on his head. You adjusted your corset as you watched and waited. Matt quickly put the giraffe costume over his clothing when you all realized you were cutting it close to having to be on stage. You looked at Rob as Matt finally put the giraffe head on and hurried out the door. Rob smiled at you and grabbed your hand, giving it a tight squeeze as if to let you know everything was going as planned.

During karaoke, you almost forgot about the events of today. You were having so much fun, singing and dancing with your friends and fans. It wasn’t until you noticed Matt looking displeased as he occasionally messed with the giraffe head that sat atop his own head that you remembered that Rob had said he was pulling one more prank tonight. You felt another wave of adrenaline pump through you when you realized that Rob had pulled it off. It was only a matter of time before Matt found out what was going on.

After karaoke, you all found you way back to the green room. Matt immediately pulled the giraffe head off, swearing as he did so.

“What is this?” He cried out. Everyone looked at him as he began to grab at his hair, pulling his hands away and seeing that they were covered in something sticky and red.

Briana walked up to him, sticking a finger in his hair. She studied the substance on her finger for a moment before sticking it in her mouth.

“Mmm, strawberry jelly,” she answered.

“That’s disgusting!” Matt shouted, “It’s in my hair!”

“It’s a good look for you,” Rich laughed.

“You think this is funny? Someone literally put strawberry jelly in my costume, who was it?”

Everyone stared at Matt, clueless as to who may have actually done it.

“Rich!” Matt shouted.

“Why does everyone think I’m doing this stuff?” Rich shot back.

“It seems like a very… dick move,” Rob added, smiling with pride at his own joke.

The others groaned in response, but you made sure to let Rob know that his joke was very good.

“I’m gonna figure out who did this,” Matt promised as he removed the rest of his costume, throwing it to the floor, “and whoever it was is going to pay.” With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving the rest of you in disbelief.

Saturday

Saturday morning was mostly filled with private discussions over who had been pulling the pranks. It really was working out in your favor though. From what you overheard, each of your friends were blaming each other; not once was there ever a mention of you or Rob’s names. You and Rob did your part, mentioning the possibility of Stephen maybe trying to prank Matt since he had been in on blaming Billy for the Oreo prank, which Stephen didn’t believe Billy did. There was immediate discussion on how to get back at Stephen and you and Rob felt pleased with your results.

However, you and Rob still had some tricks up your sleeves. Today, you had planned to get Briana and Chris. Briana was a given as she often gave you and Rob a hard time. Chris was just a bonus. He hadn’t really done anything to either of you, but you were so drunk on power by now that you decided to prank as many people as you could, of course making sure that you framed someone else for it.

You had left the empty strawberry jelly jar in Stephens bag that he kept in the green room; waiting for him to give himself away. It was torture really not making it obvious, but you both knew that eventually, Stephen would screw up and get himself caught. That didn’t come until about halfway through the day though. Stephen had been digging through his bag as you all sat around taking a break. Unfortunately for him, he pulled the jar out to examine it with Matt sitting right across from him. Matt saw it immediately.

“It was you?”

“This isn’t mine,” Stephen explained, tossing the empty jar to the floor, watching as it rolled to Matt’s feet.

“What did I ever do to you?” Matt asked, face red and angry.

“Nothing,” Stephen replied, “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know how that got there.”

“Watch your back man,” Matt threatened as stormed from the room yet again.

In the aftermath of Matt’s threats toward Stephen, you and Rob got to work for your prank on Chris. You weren’t sure how Rob had managed to gain access to one of Chris’ cameras, and you really didn’t want to know. All you did know was that Rob had it and he was now carefully coloring on it with a black marker. It really was the oldest trick in the book, but you let Rob have this one. He seemed awfully proud that he had thought of it.

“These cameras are super expensive,” you reminded him. You bit your lip, unsure if this one was a good idea at all.

“Relax, it’s only marker, it’ll wash off.”

“Chris is also super tall…”

“He won’t know it was us,” Rob replied almost nervously, “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Okay, but if this one backfires, you leave me out of it.”

“Traitor,” Rob said with a laugh. When he was finished, he carefully replaced the camera into it’s bag and left it on the table.

“He really just left it sitting here?” You asked when you realized Rob was leaving it.

“Yeah, what an idiot.”

Once you left the scene, you began to work on your prank for Briana. This was one that you weren’t quite sure of. Sure, you had come up with it, knowing that it would be pretty epic; but eventually you felt uneasy about it.

“She always brushes her teeth after eating,” Rob explained, “at least the woman has great dental hygiene.”

“Yeah, but maybe this one is going too far. Also, we’ve already done one tooth related prank.”

“No, this one is going to be even better.”

“Rob, I really think it’s time to hold back,” you said. For a moment, you really felt like these pranks were getting out of hand.

“Y/N, you came up with an amazing idea, you’d be selling yourself short if we didn’t do it.”

“Fine,” you replied as you grabbed Briana’s toothbrush from Rob. Rob looked around the room, making sure no one was around as he watched you open the cap to the food dye you were holding. You carefully placed a few drops of the dye into the bristles of the toothbrush before quickly placing it back where you got it from. Rob grabbed the dye from you and moved across the room to place it under Rich’s hat that was now left at the table.

“Rich’s turn,” Rob said with a smile. He grabbed your hand again and led you to the couch. “Now we just wait,” he said as the two of you sat down, pretending to look busy as you waited for someone else to join you.

You had been delighted to witness the prank you had pulled on Briana that day. As usual, she ate lunch and made her way to a bathroom to brush her teeth. You really had to hand it to her, the woman enjoyed having clean teeth. You and Rob and some of the others were treated to her screams a while later. She came rushing out of the bathroom, waving her toothbrush at each of you.

“Are you fucking serious!” she yelled, mouth covered in a lovely shade of blue. You covered your own mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at the sight of her.

“Oh my god,” Billy breathed out, “this is amazing.” He pulled his phone out, aiming it right at Briana as he snapped pictures of her.

“Who is doing this?” She demanded. Her wild eyes glanced around, stopping briefly on you and Rob as you sat, pretending to be shocked at the situation.

No one answered her, there were only muffled laughs and shaking heads.

“Someone is responsible,” she continued.

Suddenly, an argument broke out again. Everyone began to blame each other, and they were doing so very loudly.

Rich, who was ready to escape the fighting, reached for his hat suddenly. He put it on his head, leaving behind the small bottle of blue food dye that Rob had left under his hat. Kim immediately noticed it on the table.

“Rich!” she shouted, grabbing Briana by the arm and shaking her, “look, he has the dye!”

“Oh my god!” yelled Rich when he saw the dye sitting there, right where his hat had been, “it wasn’t me! Who framed me?”

“Hey!” Mike shouted. Everyone stopped arguing, focusing their attention on him as he prepared to speak. “Has anyone noticed that there are, like, a handful of people here who haven’t been pranked?”

You swallowed hard, kicking yourself as you realized that you and Rob had forgotten to cover all of your tracks.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Rich hummed, “I mean Robbie and Y/N have been pretty fortunate.”

“Hey,” Rob started, “don’t you think Y/N and I get enough as it is? I mean, we’re always the victims, we’re always getting picked on.”

“You’re right,” Rich said, “someone is targeting the rest of us now. Borja and Chris have been pretty lucky as well.”

“Actually, someone did put peanut butter on my bass earlier, I just didn’t make a huge deal out of it like the rest of you are,” Mike replied.

“Fine, Chris and Rob and Y/N,” Rich corrected himself.

“Hey, it’s not me or Rob,” you said, “I mean, when have we ever pranked anyone? Like Rob said, we’re usually in your shoes.”

“True,” Rich replied, “also, there’s no way you two could ever come up with good pranks.”

You were grateful when the attention shifted from you and Rob finally, everyone going back to accusing each other.

Later that day, you received word of Rob’s prank on Chris. It had been during Misha’s ops when Chris finally grabbed the camera that Rob had sabotaged. About halfway through the ops, Misha finally noted that Chris’ face was suddenly covered in something black. Just by him holding the camera to his face, the marker that Rob had used has rubbed off, coating him in a fine layer of black. You got to witness it later when you ran into Chris in the green room. Unfortunately for him, the marker wasn’t washable. He walked around the rest of the day like that, glaring at everyone since he didn’t know who exactly was responsible.

You and Rob had pulled your pranks for the day, sitting back and enjoying the moments of sweet revenge that no one could possibly pin on you. Your plan to frame the others for everything had worked well, and there was only one brief moment of anyone suspecting you. Luckily, you and Rob were the sweet and innocent ones of the group; any suspicion had been quickly squashed when the others realized neither of you were capable of such cruelty.

When the concert rolled around that night, you both obviously decided against doing anything else. Rob had too much to focus on and you didn’t feel comfortable pulling any pranks on your own, especially not on concert night. For the first time during the convention, everyone seemed to be somewhat at ease that night. No one argued or tried to get back at anyone. This left you feeling slightly powerful; knowing that you could easily cause a stir if you really wanted to.

After the show, Rob had found you again. He walked with you down the hall, talking quietly about what he had planned for tomorrow.

“Rob, I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you stated again. It seemed as if everything was getting a bit out of hand now. Everyone was mad at each other and they were all basically targeting each other anyway. “I mean, come on, I think we’ve messed with them enough.”

“We had the big prank planned,” Rob pouted.

“I know, but is it necessary?”

“Hell yeah it’s necessary,” Rob said, “just think Y/N, think of all those times any of them picked on you because you’re smaller that them, think of all those stupid pranks they pulled on you just because you always fall for them. This is our chance, our one shot at finally getting back at those fuckers.”

“Haven’t we done that though?”

“All those other pranks… that was kid’s stuff,” he replied, “we have to hit them with the big one now. We have to get Jared and Jensen… we have to get them all.”

You sighed heavily, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it. The man must be feeling the same power trip that you had felt earlier, only for him, it was on a much more extreme level. Regardless, you had promised to help him through this, knowing that you wanted your own revenge just as much as he wanted his. There was no backing out now.

Sunday Afternoon

Sunday was going to be a difficult day. You and Rob had decided to mellow out on the small pranks, knowing that you were about to attempt one so big, even you were unsure if it would work despite how powerful you had been feeling. Rob had offered you a pep talk right when you panicked and tried to back out. He had been right, you were in on this together and there was no turning back now.

You had a small window of time now. Jared and Jensen were on stage doing their panel; the girls were doing photo ops; the band remained on stage with the J’s, and Rich was waiting for his turn in photo ops. The green room was empty and Rob had once again paid off a couple of volunteers to keep the room cleared while you worked. It seemed impossible at first; a prank to this extent surely couldn’t be set up in such a short amount of time. Regardless, you and Rob got to work. You worked together, stacking cups of water in front of the main entrance until the entire doorway was blocked. You knew that based on the way the door opened into the room, this wouldn’t do anything else rather than get the floor wet; but it was merely a distraction. You had some help earlier in the day from some fans during your meet and greet. During this time, they helped you set up the contraption just above the door that would hold water balloons. All it would take was a tug of the rope and all the balloons would come crashing down.

“Okay, we need to get the balloons into the net,” you explained to Rob in a rushed voice. The water cups had taken up a lot of time and you were now rushing to finish before anyone made it back.

“Climb up there and I’ll hand you the balloons,” Rob replied.

“Why do I have to climb up there? You know I’m afraid of heights.”

“Come on Y/N,” he argued, “I’m too shaky, I’ll just end up dropping everything.”

“Oh Jesus,” you rolled your eyes as you hesitantly climbed the ladder. Rob began to hand you already filled water balloons and you carefully placed each one into the net, hoping that nothing would set the trap off while you worked. While you checked to make sure the contraption was secure, Rob moved aside to prepare the buckets of flour. They too needed to be rigged up to ensure that they were set off as the door opened. You glanced around in amazement for a moment. Impressed that you and Rob had actually almost pulled this off. It was by far your most elaborate prank, and you were pretty proud that you had done it together. You almost wanted everyone to know you were the culprits, but you knew you had to set up and rush out the side door to actually avoid getting caught. If anyone knew you were responsible, you and Rob would never hear the end of it and you would probably be harassed even more.

While you focused on the water balloons, Rob began to carefully place Pop-Its around the room; under rugs, under couch cushions, scattered around the floor even in plain sight.

“Hand me that bucket,” you instructed Rob. You meant to set that one up before moving to the other side of the door for the second bucket. Just as Rob picked it up to bring to you, someone burst through the side door. You looked up in fear, afraid that you had been caught. It was one of the volunteers that Rob had paid off.

She stood at the doorway, eyes wide and in a panic. “Guys!” she shouted, “I’m so sorr-”

Her words were cut short as the door just below you swung open.

Everything happened all at once. You remember seeing Rich, Kim, Briana, and the band below you as you grabbed onto the ladder. All of the cups of water that you had set up went flying. Water was everywhere already; flying across the room, tumbling down to soak the floor. Already, your plan had been foiled. Even worse; the door was opened with such force, it immediately slammed into the ladder that you were still standing on. You tried to steady yourself, letting go of the rope holding the balloons in place. As you did so, all of the water balloons came crashing down on top of the six of your friends as they rushed into the room to see what the commotion was. You still worked at steadying yourself as you felt the ladder sway beneath you, and just as you thought you had evened out, Rich panicked a bit more than had been expected. He stepped back in disbelief as the water balloons fell on top of him, immediately soaking him, he swore a bit before bumping into the ladder as he tried to regain his footing.

You felt the ladder sway beneath you again, heart stopping when you realized that this was not going to end well for you. You tried to steady yourself again, but Rich turned and grabbed onto the ladder, pushing it even more. The combination of a stunned Rich trying to steady himself and your weight at the top of the ladder ultimately resulted in the whole thing toppling over. You could no longer even try to balance yourself out with Rich grabbing blindly at the thing as you held on for dear life.

As you fell to the ground with a thud, pain shot through your foot as you landed. In the distance, you could hear the constant popping sound as the six others scurried about the room; now stepping on the Pop-Its that they weren’t expecting to have scattered across the room. You glanced up from your spot on the floor; almost blinded by the pain in your foot with the ladder lying on top of you; watching the chaos unfold as your soaked friends danced around, shocked by the constant popping sounds that occurred no matter where they stepped.

There were curses and screams; the entire room filled with noise and panic. You glanced over to Rob who was standing in one spot; still holding one of the buckets as he too watched your prank take an unexpected turn. It seemed as if the entire scene went on forever, but in a mere matter of minutes, the room calmed down; Pop-Its were all but popped, all of your friends were now staring in shock at each other as water dripped off of them. Suddenly, there was complete silence. Eyes landed on you as you remained on the floor, groaning in pain; then eyes glanced over at Rob who hadn’t moved from his spot. Before anyone could say anything, Rob walked over to where Rich, Kim, and Briana stood. He stared at them for a moment before lifting the bucket up and tossing it’s contents all over them. The three stood there; mouths agape, now covered in wet flour.

“W-What the hell just happened?” Briana stuttered, still in shock as she tried to make sense of everything.

“It was the ultimate prank,” Rob muttered, “until it wasn’t.” He turned to you then, moving toward you quickly, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” you shouted, “my ankle… it really hurts.”

Rob bent down to move the ladder off of you before holding your foot in his lap as he sat down to check on it.

“You set up this as a prank?” Rich asked.

“Yeah, you weren’t supposed to come in, not yet anyway. You were supposed to walk in with Jared and Jensen.”

Just as if he had summoned them by saying their names, Jared and Jensen entered the room; stopping in their tracks as the looked around, assessing the mess that laid before them.

“Whoa, what happened?” Jared asked, now looking at the six others, half of whom were now covered in a sticky flour paste. He and Jensen began to laugh at the scene before them, at least until they noticed that you were lying on the ground, obviously in pain.

“Uh, I think Rob and Y/N just pulled the ultimate prank on us,” Kim said, as she moved toward you as well.

“No, we failed,” you replied, “our timing was way off, you weren’t supposed to know it was us.”

“Why the hell were you on a ladder?” Rich asked as he knelt next to you. The man looked guilty beneath the flour paste when he realized that he was the one that sent you crashing to the ground.

“Rob was too scared to do it,” you answered, flinching as Rob started to remove your shoe when he noticed your ankle swelling.

“I wasn’t scared, I just knew you’d get it done faster.”

“Wait,” Briana said, “was it the two of you this whole time?”

Rob took a deep breath, “Yes, we did it all.”

“Really?” Asked Rich. He looked at you both in surprise, almost impressed. “I didn’t think either of you would have it in you honestly.”

“Wait, did you pull pranks and then frame everyone else?” Billy asked.

“Yes, we pitted you against one another and watched as you tried to get back at each other. It was perfect really, no one suspected us. We just watched as we turned you against each other.”

“Wow,” Jensen said finally, “I-I’m truly impressed. I heard all about everything that happened this weekend.

“All of that was really you two?” Jared asked, amazed  when you both nodded at him.

You smiled at Jared and Jensen, happy that someone was at least taking note of how wonderful the prank really would have been had you finished it just a few minutes before.

“This one was meant mostly for you two,” Rob said glancing between Jared and Jensen.

“Us?” they replied in unison.

“Yeah, I mean, come on,” Rob began, “you guys are always pranking me and Y/N; you’re always making fun of us and picking on us, it was time to get you back,” he looked around the room at the others who were just as guilty as Jared and Jensen, “to get all of you back.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t succeed with us,” Jared said, “but I have to give you props, this is an amazing set up.”

“Really?” Rob asked, now grinning as Jared complimented the two of you.

“Heck yeah,” Rich added, “seriously, all of those other pranks over the weekend… really good. We never even suspected you. You both really covered your tracks by framing each of us.”

“Well, that was Rob’s idea,” you said.

“Amazing,” Stephen added, “you really got us.”

Suddenly, from the back of the room came the sounds of clapping. You all looked over to see Mike, smiling as he stood there, still soaking wet as he started a slow clap. The others joined in eventually, slow clapping for you and Rob until it turned into a burst of applause. You grinned at Rob, well, it was more of a grimace since your ankle and foot still hurt. He beamed at you for a moment and you both enjoyed your moment as you realized that your friends were proud of how you had managed to prank them unknowingly all weekend.

“Really,” Jared said as the clapping ended, “this prank would have been epic if you hadn’t got caught. Hell, it was still epic.”

“Too bad you missed your real targets,” Jensen chuckled as he moved toward the couch. You held your breath when you remembered what Rob had put under the couch cushions, watching as Jensen plopped down on the couch, a smug look on his face. Just as he landed, the handful of Pop-Its that Rob had placed under the cushion went off. Jensen yelled, jumping from his seat in a panic.

You all laughed hysterically, even more impressed that you had still managed to get one of the J’s. Your laughter only made your ankle hurt worse and you cringed as pain shot up your leg.

“Really though,” Rich said, directing his question to Rob, “why the hell did you put Y/N on the ladder? She’s afraid of heights and now she’s broken.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Rob mumbled.

“Hey, do you think that maybe we can forget about all of this and someone can get me to a hospital?” You asked.

“Of course,” Rob replied. He and the guys moved around you, ready to carry you from the room to get you checked out.

“How are you going to explain this one?” Jared laughed.

#lizzie's 300 challenge #rob benedict x reader #swearing #injury #my fic

[narisjournal-blog]

300 Followers Challenge!

So there are now 300 of you beautiful people! I just want to say, thank you to each and every one of you who reads my stuff, likes, gives feedback, chats, reblogs - thank you so much for taking an interest in my blog and my writing.

Having this blog has given me so much motivation to write again and really helped me to hone my skills. And for drawing too.

So thank you, all of you.

To celebrate, I’m holding a fic challenge - my very first.

All prompts are taken from the lovely Jana at @creativepromptsforwriting, who kindly let me use them. Please go check out her blog and follow!

Rules:

1. This is a follower challenge, so you must be following me (I am aware of those who have a technical glitch with the follow button so you are the exception)

2. Please @ tag me and use the hashtag #Lizzie’s 300 challenge

3. Please PLEASE put the appropriate warnings for triggering or nsfw topics and tag as such.

4. Pick a prompt and message or ask me the number along with the character or pairing.

5. Any SPN character or pairing - Reader insert or ship.

6. Smut is ok, but only consensual and not underage. If I’m really not comfortable with anything I will let you know.

7. Fandom crossovers are also ok.

8. RPF is ok as long as it’s tasteful and respectful. Enjoy!

Prompts under the cut:

All prompts have their original numbers and a link to the original post. I will add more if there is demand for it!

Prompt #363: The night sky lit up for a second and what followed sounded a lot like the end of the world.

Prompt #362: They only realised they were holding hands the entire time, the moment they had to let go.

Prompt #355: “Don’t look at me, this is not my fault.”

Prompt #353: That thing she is feeling is wonderful and sinful and perfect and a complete and utter disaster.

Prompt #345: “So this doesn’t bother you?”

“Honestly the wings are kinda disconcerting.”

Prompt #343: “Let’s not forget who the real bad guys are in this story.”

Prompt #340: “You must be the reason for global warming because you’re hot.”

“Actually it’s primarily because of too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.”

Prompt #337: There are people who try to avoid any kind of conflict. And then there are people who just want to watch the world burn

Prompt #330: Some said the world would end in fire, some said in ice. Some people even said with zombies. But no one could have known that this was how it all ended.

Prompt #328: “Honestly, you’re kinda weird.”

“Took you long enough to find that out.”

Prompt #327: “You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place! There are regulations!”

“Relax, nobody saw me..”

Prompt #317: “Before I started this, you told me you would have my back - no matter what.”

“I know and I’m sorry. But this is getting out of hand and I just can’t do this anymore.”

- @natasha-cole (Rob x Reader)

Prompt #313: “So from the bottom of my cold, dead heart, screw you.”

Prompt #304: “We were driving for hours and it was raining and we were drifting and then suddenly I saw the light.”

“You thought you were dying?”

“No, I saw the McDonald’s sign at the rest stop.”

@thecuriouscrusader (Destiel)

Prompt #300: They always say ’the devil made me do it’. But this wasn’t him

Prompt #299: There is nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning after thinking you wouldn’t make it through the night.

- @mandilion76 ( Sam x Reader) Prompt #297: “Wait, what do you mean, you kinda like me?”

Prompt #293: “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“It ripped out my wings, so yes, it did hurt.”

Prompt #288: “I like my coffee as black and bitter as my soul.”

“So, pink and sparkly then?

- @gone-to-fight-the-fairies

Prompt #284: “What can I say? Opposites attract.”

“That is really not a good excuse for sleeping with a bloody angel!”

- @afanofmanystuffs (Castiel x Meg)

Prompt #264

It wasn’t the vases and the glasses that got knocked over everyday that annoyed him the most about his new roommate. It was in the morning when he woke up with a too warm body next to him and a mouth full of feathers that he thought he definitely didn’t sign up for this when he became a demon.

Prompt #259

“Are you having any fun yet?

Prompt #248

Who needs a guardian angel when you can have a half-decent demon?

Prompt #216

“Am I going to see you later?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Prompt #277: “How are you?”, asked a soft voice, coming behind me. “I… Is this some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not funny…” My voice started to shake; I knew that gentle tone.

Prompt #189: Breakfast hadn’t prepared her for today’s events.

-@webcricket (Castiel x Reader)

Prompt #185: “You told me there would be cake. Now here I am, so where is my cake?”

- @elma-shay (Saileen/Sam x Eileen)

Prompt #182: “The next time you stand in front of my house at 3 AM because you need a place to hide don’t expect me to open the door.”

#Lizzie's 300 challenge #follower challenge #fic challenge #spn fanfic #supernatural

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 302. brb x oc

a/n: this chapter got so long tumblr wasn't letting me post it so 8) action on the next one (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

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/267/268/269/270/271/272/273/274/275/276/277/278/279/280/281/282/283/284/285/286/287/288/289/290/291/292/293/294/295/296/297/298/299/300/301

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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-

“And then I was like wooooooooah that’s crazy!”

She had no idea who this woman was and what she did to Shells…because Bea knew Shells and she never wakes up before eight thirty. She blinked, still trying to understand what her friend was talking about since it was so early “...what?”

Shells laughed heartily at Beatrice's bewildered expression. "I know, right? Then I had to tell aunt Penny that ‘hey so i think we should expand the bar a bit more and make a bigger game room.” 

Beatrice, still struggling to fully wake up, blinked at Shells with a mix of confusion and disbelief. The mention of Penny, a bar expansion, and a bigger game room felt like fragments of a dream that refused to coalesce into a coherent narrative.

"..right?" Beatrice mumbled, her words punctuated by a wide yawn. She took another sip of her coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in and bring some clarity to the early morning haze.

Shells grinned, seemingly undeterred by Beatrice's befuddled state. "Yes, yes! It's all part of my grand plan. You see, a bigger game room is essential for unfolding this idea of mine.”

Beatrice squinted at Shells, her expression a mix of skepticism and amusement. "Idea? Shells, are you sure you're not still asleep?"

Shells leaned in, her eyes sparkling "Bea,of course not….besides, with the suits bothering her so much I think something like that will help a lot. The Hard Deck is loved by many so…”

Beatrice stared at Shells, her brain struggling to catch up with the rapid-fire information. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, realizing that this conversation had taken a turn into the realm of the utterly surreal. "Explain?" Beatrice's confusion deepened. The early hour, combined with Shells' animated storytelling, made it challenging for her to process the details.

Shells leaned back, grinning mischievously. "Okay, let me break it down for you. So, you know how aunt Penny is the magnificent force behind The Hard Deck, right?”

Beatrice nodded slowly, her mind attempting to piece together the fragments of information. "Yeah, I know. But why are we talking about Penny at..." she glanced at the clock, "...this ungodly hour?"

Shells chuckled. "Because, my dear Bea, while you were in the sweet embrace of slumber, I had a revelation! A vision, if you will. An epiphany that struck me like a cosmic lightning bolt."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her face. "A cosmic lightning bolt? Shells, are you alright?"

Shells winked. "Of course, I'm alright. More than alright, actually. You see, in this cosmic revelation, I saw The Hard Deck expanding, growing, becoming a haven for interstellar adventurers and local patrons alike. And at the heart of it all, a grand game room, a nexus of fun and excitement!"

Beatrice stared at Shells, still trying to grasp the surreal nature of the conversation. "A game room? Shells, are you turning The Hard Deck into a space arcade or something?"

Shells nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with an infectious enthusiasm. "Exactly, Bea! A space arcade, a hub for gamers, explorers, and anyone seeking a cosmic escape. Picture it: retro arcade machines, futuristic VR experiences, and a vibrant community of players coming together to share their love for games."

Beatrice blinked, half-expecting to wake up from what felt like a whimsical dream. "This is... unexpected. Why now, Shells? And why are you discussing this with Aunt Penny at the crack of dawn?"

Shells leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "Because the cosmic energies flow strongest at dawn, Bea. And as for why now, well, I couldn't wait. The vision was too vivid, too compelling to be delayed. I had to share it with Aunt Penny, and you know how she is when it comes to ambitious ideas."

Beatrice rubbed her temples, trying to reconcile the reality of the conversation with the remnants of sleep clouding her mind. "So, you had a vision of turning The Hard Deck into a space arcade, and you're convincing Penny to go along with it?"

Shells nodded, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Precisely! And you, my dear Bea, will play a crucial role in bringing this vision to life. You'll be the guardian of the game room, the one who ensures that every gamer who walks through those doors experiences the cosmic thrill of The Hard Deck."

"Guardian of the game room? Shells, this sounds like something out of a sci-fi novel."

Shells grinned. "Well, we do love our sci-fi adventures, don't we? And this, my friend, is an adventure waiting to unfold. The Hard Deck, with its expanded game room, will become a beacon of vast cosmic expanse. Isn’t that right, Bea?”

Bea.

Bea!

The brunette jumps on the couch and looks around furiously,trying to regain her surroundings and then stops when she sees Shells holding a mug with coffee in her hands “Hey…you…fell asleep.”

Oh.

“...oh I did?”

“Yeah,I told you to stay on the couch as I cleaned the kitchen.” her friend said softly, “Were you dreaming? You were making…noises kind of.”

Beatrice blinked, the remnants of the dream still lingering in her mind. "Yeah, I... I think I was dreaming. Shells, you were turning The Hard Deck into a space arcade, and I was the guardian of the game room."

Shells burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. "Guardian of the game room? Now that's a title I'd trust you with, Bea.."

Beatrice chuckled, slowly sitting on the couch "A dream indeed. You had me convinced for a moment that I'd stepped into some alternate reality where The Hard Deck became a galactic hub."

She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Aunt Penny would hate that."

Beatrice grinned, appreciating the whimsical optimism that Shells always brought into her life. "Totally…was–was I out long? Where are the kids?"

Shells checked the time on her wristwatch and smirked. "Not too long. The little rascals are still napping. I figured you needed a moment of peace, considering everything."

Beatrice sighs,running a hand through her hair. "Yeah,thanks for keeping an eye on them, Shells. I..." she rubs her eyes “Didn’t sleep that well,you know?”

Shells nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Hey, I get it.Do you want-” she points to the mug then sets it aside when Bea shakes her head, sitting down next to her friend, “Wanna talk about it?”

“About the dream?”

“No dummy,” she gently slaps Bea’s shoulder, “Why you didn’t sleep!”

Beatrice hesitated for a moment, glancing at Shells with enough  vulnerability for her friend to hug her close. The weight of the recent events pressed on her, and the dreams seemed to be a tumultuous journey into the subconscious. She took a deep breath, then began to share the concerns that had been gnawing at her.

"It's just... everything, Shells. Everything.It's driving me crazy."

Shells listened attentively, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. She allowed Bea to place her head on her shoulder, gently tapping her friend’s cheek. "I can only imagine how tough it must be, Bea. You could’ve called me,I wouldn’t mind sleeping in the couch or staying here making sure YOU fell asleep."

Beatrice leaned into Shells' comforting presence, then smiles softly, closing her eyes, “Thank you.” she whispers, “You are a good friend.”

“I’m a great friend.”

“You are.”

Shells chuckled, the sound resonating with a mixture of warmth and playfulness. "Well, I do try my best, you know. And speaking of friends, I’ve been thinking. How about we shake off this heavy atmosphere? Let’s do something fun, something that takes our minds off the chaos."

Beatrice tilted her head, looking at Shells with curiosity. "What do you have in mind?"

Shells grinned mischievously. "Ever heard of the legendary pizza blanket fort?"

Beatrice blinked, a hint of surprise in her expression. "Pizza blanket fort? Is that a thing?"

"Oh, it's absolutely a thing," Shells insisted, enthusiasm lighting up her eyes. "And we're going to build the most epic pizza blanket fort in the history of blanket forts. Trust me, it's the perfect remedy for a heavy heart and a tired mind."

“I…I don’t even know what that is.”

“Well,we better get to it then.”

-

Rooster was reading every report,ever single note from the past days and he tries,he tries hard to find what was missing. He flips the page back and forth, hand holding his forehead as he chews his bottom lip repeatedly.

He wouldn’t have any more surprises.

No more.

His gaze shifted from one document to another, absorbing the details, searching for patterns, and connecting the dots that could lead to a clearer understanding of the situation. The room was silent, save for the occasional sound of paper rustling and the distant hum of activity outside his office.

With a deep breath, Rooster leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The lack of transparency from higher-ups and the unexpected challenges faced during the mission had ignited a fire within him—a fire to protect his team and unearth the truth.

He interlocks his fingers behind his head, moving his chair from side to side. Cyclone said he’d figure out why this whole thing happened but Rooster couldn’t wait for his reply.

He had a feeling-something, someone maybe? Was off.

That wreckage was a trap for them. Which means someone knew they’d be flying that area…”Fuck.” he grunts,rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, corneas burning as he does so.

The room felt tense. He couldn't shake the feeling that there were hidden layers, concealed motives that had put his team in the crosshairs of danger. The question lingered like a persistent echo: Who knew about their movements, and why?

His desk lamp cast a focused beam on the documents, creating a pool of light in the dimly lit office. Rooster leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, eyes fixed on a particular paragraph that seemed to hold a fragment of the puzzle.

As he continued his scrutiny, his office door creaked open, and Jake cautiously entered. The officer noticed the intensity in Rooster's expression but chose to speak up, "Hey man, any updates on the situation?"

Rooster glanced up, his eyes relaxing immediately. "Nothing concrete yet, Jake. The higher-ups are still playing their cards close to the chest. But I can't wait for their deliberations. We need to act, and we need to act now."

Jake nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "We also have been checking our communication logs, looking for any irregularities after the breach. So far, everything seems secure on our end."

“Thank fuck.”

Jake pursed his lips, then sat down in front of him, “I have a question.”

Rooster smiled tiredly,rubbing his temple,”Go on,what is it?”

Jake leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Do you think there is someone who might be feeding information to those who set up the trap?"

Rooster's gaze intensified, contemplating Jake's question. The idea of a traitor within their own ranks was a heavy thought, one that weighed on everyone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't want to believe it, Jake. But we can't ignore the possibility. The breach, the targeted nature of the trap... it all points to someone having inside information."

Jake's jaw tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the severity of the situation. "What do we do then? We can't trust anyone until we figure this out. And we can't afford to have our movements predicted."

Rooster leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. "We need to conduct a thorough internal investigation. Check backgrounds, communication patterns, anything that might hint at unusual activity. And we keep this discreet. We don't want to create panic or give the potential leak a heads-up."

Jake nodded, tongue against his cheek. "Anyone that should help us with this?"

“...McAllister.” Rooster whispers, “And the boys, they are good…tell Bob too.”

“And if we find someone?”

Rooster frowns, “Then that’s out of our hands, it’s on the higher ups.” he tsks, “Fuck,I can’t believe that this is happening with Bea alone with the babies and before my promotion, seems like a huge joke.”

"I'll inform McAllister and the others," Jake said, his voice low. "We need to act swiftly but discreetly. The last thing we want is to tip our hand to whoever might be watching."

Rooster nodded, his gaze fixed on a point in the room. "Make sure McAllister knows the urgency. We can't afford to miss any details. If there's a leak, we need to plug it before it jeopardizes more lives."

With a determined nod, Jake rose from his chair and headed towards the door. "I'll get on it right away. And, Rooster, we'll get through this. It’ll be fine."

As the door closed behind Jake, Rooster was left alone with his thoughts. The room felt like a pressure cooker, each passing second adding to the weight on his shoulders. The picture on his desk—the one with Beatrice and the kids, the last one she sent as the twins got home—seemed to mock him with its serenity, a stark contrast to the turmoil that engulfed his professional life.

The worry for her safety compounded the stress of the mission. He couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between duty and the innate desire to protect his family. 

He sent her a text first

 Roos (20:04)

Hi gorgeous. Just wanted to check on you,you alright?

She didn’t respond so he sent another one 

Roos (20:05)

Things are…going, you know? We are all doing it, somehow. hah…when you see this, pls message me back? I want to…talk to you. I really do. i love you Bea and I miss you so much.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as Rooster anxiously awaited Beatrice's response. Each passing second heightened the sense of unease that had settled over him like a heavy shroud. The lack of immediate reply only fueled his concerns.

Finally, a notification lit up the screen:

Bea (20:15)

Hey, Rooster. We're doing fine here. Shells is staying over tonight so. How's everything on your end?

Rooster felt an immense amount of relief at the sight of Beatrice's message.He took a moment to compose his response:

Roos (20:18)

Good to hear that Shells is with you. Things on my end are...complicated. Can't go into details right now, but I just wanted to check on you..and talk to you. i miss you a lot.

Bea (20:19)

I miss you too…did you talk to Mav? Did he give you some insight?

Roos (20:22)

Yeah, I talked to Mav. He's looking into it, trying to get more information from the higher-ups. It's a mess, Bea, but I promise I'm doing everything I can to figure this out.

Bea (20:25)

I trust you, Rooster. We've been through tough times before, and we always find our way back to each other. Just...come back to us, okay?

Rooster's chest tightened at the sincerity in her words.He took a deep breath before responding:

Roos (20:28)

I will. I promise.

Bea (20:30)

And you never break your promises.

Roos (20:29)

Never,gorgeous. Never.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[srebrnafh]

Five Favourite Works of Mine from the past year

Tagged by @shiplocks-of-love (and that post is here: https://shiplocks-of-love.tumblr.com/post/618719853246873600/five-favourite-works-of-mine-from-the-past-year so you can have a look at shiplocks’ choice :)) - thank you, dear!

The rules of this circulating challenge are as follows: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I took a looong look at my fics from the last 12 months and for a moment felt tempted to include “whole 2019″ since in 2020 I seem to be posting mostly little oneshots... Yeah, why not. Screw the rules.

(it seems I posted/finished posting way too many stories last year)

Counting down from 5, because.

5. Can you benchmark a soul?

MCU story, a lot of Tony as Peter’s parental figure, some magic, some fixing of Endgame, because we deserve it. A lot of feels and family stuff. One of these stories that got away from me, a bit, but still seems pretty consistent. I really needed some release of post-Endgame anger.

4. Tattered

Winglock. Johnlock, of course. Another one that got away from me a bit. Like, 50% bit ;)

Came to me one morning, was supposed to be an open-ended oneshot, then a two-chapter piece... and I ended up with my own Wing!AU without A/O or other typical tropes, the story grew to 6 chapters and actually got a kind of a finale :)

It might have been a case of “if you want a story like this, write it”.

It does have a bit of deus-ex-machina ending, but I’m working on that particular flaw of my texts. I still like it. It gives me fluffy feelings.

3. Double Pride Double Trouble

My biggest and probably longest-written baby. The first chapter (or what became the first chapter) was written maybe 6 or 7 years ago.

A mix of Pride and Prejudice (modern setting) with Lotte and Lisa (or Parent Trap), a pinch of Jane of Lantern Hill and humongous amounts of OCs that somehow grew out of the text by themselves.

Lizzy and William got together, had twins and then... split up. Each ending up with one of the twins. Rose Darcy and Mina Bennet end up on the same summer camp and hate each other on sight. Forced to live together, as per the PT/L&L storyline, they start uncovering secrets. And then they switch places, each going to the parent she doesn’t know, to work out what had happened.

School life, first love, family, secrets, mistaken identity, intrigue, letters curiously left unread, reconciliation, weddings. And HEA. For more than just Lizzy and Darcy!

Warning: 300+k words.

2. The Burning

Mostly posted in 2018, but finished in 2019!

What if... John was a bit quicker and made the deal with the devil before the devil got to Sherlock?

Sherlock is left in London, mourning his best friend, but employed by Mycroft as analyst helping the new MI6 agent now tasked with dismantling Moriarty’s network. The agent seems to be very bright, very sociable...

...and is flirting with Sherlock through the gifts he sends back from places he visits? And what is this about the fridge magnets?

Johnlock, obviously. Because what else. ANGSTY.

1. My pride and... and angst. Fading Interest. 

Sherlock is introduced to Stamford’s old university colleague, one Doctor Watson. The only issue is, doctor Watson is invisible.

Or: what if John’s depression was given direct physical form.

I teared up writing it more than once. It started with a gif of John slowly disappearing in his bedsit, which made my brain jump to Ninny, the invisible girl (from Moomins), which then became a story of a man who thought himself so forgotten, he disappeared.

If I may say so myself, I did some good work here. I’m really proud of how this turned out, including narration shifts, text formatting use and stream of consciousness pieces.

Tagging @sherlockedcarmilla @geekymoviemom @notjustamumj @reveling-in-mayhem - be bold! be proud! post about yourself :)

#tag game #favourite own pieces #srebrna writes

[noaasanctuaries]

We’re gonna need a bigger boat

Gentle giants return to Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary

Spring is notoriously windy along the coast of California. Strong northwest winds can cause hazardous sea states to crop up out of nowhere, especially in the Santa Barbara Channel. But as dawn broke on a crisp April morning, the first rays of light revealed a glassy, calm channel. Not so much as a ripple disturbed the surface. These were perfect conditions for spotting one of the most elusive visitors to the channel’s waters: basking sharks.

Most mariners aren’t actively looking for giant, fearsome-looking marine creatures. But researchers from NOAA’s Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary set out with – and accomplished – one goal: to put satellite tags on the gentle giants once seen in great numbers roaming the rich waters of the Santa Barbara Channel.

Prior to this, only four tags had been deployed on basking sharks in the eastern North Pacific and none had been deployed since 2011, despite many hours on the water. In recent years, basking shark sightings off of California have been rare, further complicating efforts to better understand these mysterious animals. With not one, but two, sharks tagged, this collaborative effort between NOAA scientists from the sanctuary and the Southwest Fisheries Science Center will bolster our understanding of these visitors to Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary.

A basking shark swims near Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary's R/V Shearwater. Photo: Pike Spector/NOAA

“The sanctuary is home to a number of really amazing pelagic species and most people don’t realize massive basking sharks are right in their backyard,” says Ryan Freedman, a researcher at Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary. “However, as more people see these cool fish, we need to ensure the public views them responsibly. The first shark we saw had obvious boat propeller scars on its dorsal fin. It is critical for our communities to protect and support this species of concern.”

Basking sharks, Cetorhinus maximus, are often mistaken for white sharks due to their large size and similar body coloration. Despite their appearance, these sharks are often shy and skittish, and typically avoid interacting with mariners. Basking sharks are the second largest sharks in the world, measuring up to 30 feet as adults, about as long as a school bus. Like whale sharks and unlike white sharks, these gentle giants filter feed on dense clumps of copepods, tiny crustaceans about the size of a grain of rice. Basking sharks tend to aggregate where oceanographic conditions act to concentrate their zooplankton prey, and are seen seasonally in temperate regions of both the North Atlantic and Pacific.

This basking shark was seen feeding in the early evening hours in the Santa Barbara Channel on April 7, 2019. The shark was filmed with a drone while it swam close to the surface. Video: Kristin Campbell/Newport Coastal Adventure

Despite their grand size and habit of swimming at the surface (hence the name “basking shark”), sightings of the population in the eastern Pacific declined in the latter half of the 20th century. In the mid-1900s, basking sharks were targeted in a number of fisheries in the eastern and western Pacific and were also killed in an eradication program in Canada to keep them from destroying fishing gear. Other individuals were killed as bycatch. While targeted fisheries in the Pacific ended decades ago, basking shark fins have a high value in Asian markets, creating an incentive for landing them and concern about continued fisheries mortality.

Due to concerns about the population, NOAA designated basking sharks in the eastern North Pacific a “species of concern” in 2009. At that time, NOAA scientists initiated a research program including a sightings database and an opportunistic tagging program to collect data on movement, behavior, and habitat use to support management. Scientists currently don’t understand how changes in environmental conditions may impact basking sharks, or even where the North Pacific population goes when they’re not along the West Coast. Do they swim to Japan? To Ecuador? Do they stay on the surface or do they forage at deeper depths? Our scientists are hoping to answer these questions, and more, with the help of satellite tags.

The NOAA team prepares to tag a basking shark near Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary. Photo: Pike Spector/NOAA

The pop-up satellite archival tags deployed by sanctuary personnel will remain secured to the sharks for up to 240 days, and will collect data on temperature, depth, and sunlight. After 240 days, they are programmed to release from the sharks, float to the surface, and transmit their data to satellites. Using the transmitted light data NOAA scientists can recreate the sharks’ movements. In addition, temperature and depth data provide insight into the sharks’ behavior and habitat use throughout the recording period.

“These data will help fill gaps in our understanding of basking sharks’ stock structure, their overlap with fisheries, and how oceanography influences the species’ distribution. All of this information is vital for the continued management and conservation of these poorly understood sharks,“ says Dr. Heidi Dewar of NOAA's Southwest Fisheries Science Center.

Ryan Freedman prepares to tag a basking shark while Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary research operations specialist Lizzie Duncan documents. Photo: Pike Spector/NOAA

During the tagging event, Freedman and his team were also able to get two genetics samples. While collecting genetic material often requires a biopsy, DNA can be extracted from the shark’s mucus, a slimy coating on the surface of their skin. Until now, studies of basking shark genetics have excluded the eastern North Pacific because of a lack of samples. As with the tagging effort, genetic studies will provide valuable insight into stock structure both within the North Pacific and globally, and can also be used forensically to identify fins in the market.

Because of their elusive nature and the challenge of getting access to sharks for research, the only way this program works is by building a network across NOAA agencies and by working with the public. With these efforts, NOAA scientists are one step closer to unraveling the mysteries surrounding these charismatic creatures.

How you can help

Always use appropriate ocean etiquette when encountering marine life. If you see a basking shark, slow down to avoid hitting them with your vessel. They are easily injured and are susceptible to vessel collisions.

In areas with basking sharks:

Slow down to six knots and avoid sudden changes in direction or speed.

If you’re within 300 feet of a basking shark, switch your engine to neutral.

Swim in small groups and do not closely approach basking sharks.

If you see a basking shark, please provide the date, time, and location of the sighting, as well as any comments, to 858-546-7023 or email [email protected]. Any photos or video would also be appreciated.

Collaborators

The mission of the Southwest Fisheries Science Center is to generate the scientific information necessary for the conservation and management of the region’s living marine resources.

Through research, education, outreach, and marine resource protection, NOAA's Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary helps protected species and their marine habitats.

#basking shark #shark #sharks #ocean #science #research #stem #noaa #california #southern california #channel islands #news

[pmcmarty]

Two watches? (A “Why I Ride” Story...)

Two watches? How come?

Well, one is my FitBit, which I always have on. The other is a watch that belonged to my late step father, Rod Johnson.

It has been 10 years since he passed away from a cancerous brain tumor and this watch has not been on a wrist since then. My mother gave me his watch for my birthday recently. This year I will ride the 2021 Pan-Mass Challenge with it.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years.

In 2009 I signed up for my First Pan-Mass Challenge. I had wanted to do this ride ever since I had gotten back into cycling. Then in June 2009 it became real personal when my step-father, Rod, had been diagnosed with Renal Cancer. He witnessed me riding the 2009 and was at the finish in Provincetown in 2010. We had believed his cancer was gone. However it came back with a fury in the form of a brain tumor in 2011 and that June he had passed away.

I wish he could be around to see how my daughters, Catherine and Lizzie, have grown. 

As I ride this year, the 10th year since he had passed away, I will be thinking of him, and others, who have fought and lost their battle with cancer.

100% of every donation goes directly to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston and supports cancer research and also supports patient care.

Click here to make $25 donation

Click here to make a $50 donation

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Click here to make a $1,000 donation

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Click here to donate using your Fidelity Donor Advised Fund

Marty Middelmann

My 2021 Fundraising Goal: $10,000

My 2021 Stretch Goal: $12,406 ($100k Lifetime)

Raised for 2020: $9,261

Number of Donors: 103

Corporate Matches: $350 (+$300 Pending)

My Progress Towards that Goal: 92% (76% Stretch)

[cathygeha]

HARROGATE INTERNATIONAL FESTIVALS REVEALS FIRST TASTE OF WORLD-CLASS LINE-UP FOR VIRTUAL ARTS WEEKENDER CELEBRATING THE BEST IN BOOKS, MUSIC, SCIENCE & MORE – ‘HIF WEEKENDER’: 23 – 26 JULY 2020

harrogateinternationalfestivals.com | #HIF2020 | #HIFAtHome

PREMIERE OF NEW BRASS COMMISSION ECLIPSE by DAVID LANCASTER featuring soloist MIKE LOVATT

INTERVIEWS with JOHN SUCHET | STELLA DUFFY | ANTHONY HOROWITZ | BEN PALMER

ADAM RUTHERFORD | LEWIS DARTNELL | CLAUDIA HAMMOND

PERFORMANCES from STEVEN ISSERLIS | TASMIN LITTLE | MAHAN ESFAHANI

NAVARRA STRING QUARTET | MISHA MULLOV-ABBADO GROUP

GEORGE HARLIONO | SILAS BASSA | ABIGAIL HAMMETT & IWAN OWEN | RACHAEL GREEN

SEAN PAYNE | NOAH STONEMAN | GRANNY’S ATTIC

GRAEME PARK DJ SET

 THEAKSTON OLD PECULIER VIRTUAL CRIME WRITING FESTIVAL

LEE CHILD | JOSEPH FINDER | MARK BILLINGHAM | VAL MCDERMID interviewed by MARK LAWSON

VAL MCDERMID’S NEW BLOOD ft DEEPA ANAPPARA | JESSICA MOOR | TREVOR WOOD | ELIZABETH KAY

IAN RANKIN | N.J. COOPER | STEVE MOSBY | AA DHAND | EMMA KAVANAGH | AMANDA JENNINGS

STEVE CAVANAGH & LUCA VESTE present TWO CRIME WRITERS & A MICROPHONE

T

HEAKSTON OLD PECULIER CRIME NOVEL OF THE YEAR: WINNER CEREMONY

  Harrogate, Thursday 2 July 2020: Harrogate International Festivals is thrilled to announce first names for its new, free virtual festival bringing world-class culture to everyone at home, the HIF Weekender.

From 23 to 26 July, the HIF Weekender will present a celebration of the arts, featuring performances and interviews with internationally acclaimed musicians, best-selling authors and innovative thinkers to coincide with what would have been the legendary long weekend of Harrogate’s Theakston Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival.

The HIF Weekender begins with a bang, crowning the winner of the UK’s most prestigious crime fiction prize – Theakston Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year – in a virtual ceremony recognising the best of the best. The celebrations continue with crime writing royalty Ian Rankin, who was set to be the 2020 Theakston Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival Programming Chair, interviewed by N. J. Cooper about Rebus, writing and Rankin’s ‘lost’ festival year. Lee Child will reflect on his extraordinary career with fellow author Joseph Finder, and Mark Billingham on the 20th anniversary of his iconic detective Tom Thorne and debut novel Sleepy Head. Steve Mosby will be joined by AA Dhand, Emma Kavanagh and Amanda Jennings to explore what it means to be a crime writer in the age of pandemic and why the genre has dominated reading lockdown reading habits, and Steve Cavanagh and Luca Veste are set to present a virtual version of their popular podcast Two Crime Writers & A Microphone for the weekend.

Queen of crime Val McDermid will be joined by journalist and broadcaster Mark Lawson to unpack the heritage and impact of her infamous New Blood panel, discussing the vital role this showcase has played in shaping bookshelves and literary careers, how trends have changed over the past 17 years, as well as giving a peek behind the scenes into has she selects her chosen four… all before welcoming this year’s formidable debut talent to share the virtual stage: Deepa Anappara, Elizabeth Kay, Jessica Moor and Trevor Wood.

For centuries music has provided refuge in times of crisis and Harrogate International Festivals has taken the bold step of commissioning a new work to premiere during the HIF Weekender, in a statement demonstrating the Festival’s commitment to supporting the arts scene and the artistic community at this precarious time.

Highly respected, Yorkshire based composer David Lancaster was commissioned by the Festival following the cancellation of the Summer Season. Inspired by the pandemic, Lancaster’s piece for brass band Eclipse was scored in just five days and represents the darkness and danger facing the arts at this time, with an invitation to remain hopeful until the light returns. The Festival has brought together musicians from around the world – from young players starting out on their journey to professionals at very top of their careers – to come together digitally as a community on the hallowed Harrogate stage for a collaborative world premiere led by acclaimed virtuoso trumpeter Mike Lovatt.

Jazz maestro Mischa Mullov-Abbado – who has also been commissioned by the Festival for new work premiering this autumn – is welcomed as a Guest Curator for the festival weekend, as well as performing with the Mischa Mullov-Abbado Group. Reflecting the Festival’s dedication to championing new talent, Mullov-Abbado has handpicked some of the most exciting contemporary young musicians to join the line-up: rising stars and former finalists from the BBC Young Jazz Musician of The Year, Sean Payne and Noah Stoneman.

There will be a host of further classical performances from world renowned musicians including distinguished British cellist Steven Isserlis, the Navarra String Quartet, multi-award-winning concerto violinist Tasmin Little, Tehran born harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani – a three time nominee for Gramophone’s Artist of the Year – as well as a raft of emerging artists: pianist George Harliono, who was recently shortlisted for Classical BRIT Award, Argentinian composer and pianist Silas Bassa, violin and piano duo Abigail Hammett and Iwan Owen, and tenor saxophonist Rachael Green.

For folk fans BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Award nominees Granny’s Attic are on hand to entertain, or if rave and house music is more your scene, Graeme Park – the DJ responsible legendary Hacienda in Manchester and at the heart of the cultural boom of Cool Britannia – will be joining the line up with a live DJ set and interview, so be sure to have your disco ball ready at home.

Alongside mesmerising music and first-class fiction, the HIF Weekender presents a series of cultural conversations with the best in the business including celebrated conductor Ben Palmer, Deutsche Philharmonie Merck in Darmstadt, and Founder and Artistic Director of Covent Garden Sinfonia; theatre maker and co-director of the Fun Palaces campaign, Stella Duffy, will be discussing the state of the arts in lockdown; newsreader and presenter John Suchet will reveal the man behind the music with his compelling biography of Beethoven; and one of the UKs most prolific and successful writers – Anthony Horowitz – will be sharing  anecdotes from his career, celebrating 10 years of Alex Rider and giving an early glimpse at his new novel Moonflower Murders.

As part of the Festival’s Berwins Salon North strand of TED-style talks designed to change your life for the better, the weekender welcomes geneticist, author, and broadcaster Adam Rutherford to advise on How to Argue with a Racist, BBC Radio 4’s All in the Mind Claudia Hammond will explain why we should be talking rest seriously, and astrobiology research scientist Lewis Dartnell will tell the virtual audience the ultimate origin story.

And not forgetting little ones, in addition to the host of activities and resources on the Festival’s HIF Player, the HIF Weekender will be introducing children to brass music with Back Chat Kids, sharing singalongs with Family Singing Sessions and History’s Maid Kate Vigurs will be revealing the horribly entertaining parts of history that children love!

Since 1966, Harrogate International Festivals has proved an artistic force to be reckoned with, presenting inspiring and ambitious cultural experiences in the most interesting spaces across Harrogate and the region, dedicated to its charitable purpose of ensuring as many people as possible have access to the arts. This commitment now takes the Festival to our digital doorstep, but for those unable to connect HIF has created a CD version of the weekender available to the public. The festival is also hosting a colourful window campaign to spread joy on the streets of Harrogate and brighten up the #ViewFromMyWindow, as well as live performances from the Band on a Bus helping residents stay upbeat and merry, and etchings of 10 Word Crime Stories as a nod to Theakston’s Old Peculier Crime  Writing Festival.

Sharon Canavar, CE of Harrogate International Festivals, said: “Out of crisis comes creativity, and Harrogate International Festivals is delighted to present a world-class line-up for our first virtual HIF Weekender. Bucking the trend, we have opened our digital doors and wallets to fund artists and commission new work, knowing the transformative value that the arts bring in supporting communities – both locally and for our international audience. Whilst there is no denying that this is a hugely challenging time for the arts and for artists, festivals play a vital part in the creative industries ecology and defining our cultural landscape, and so we are extremely proud to be presenting this rich selection to our audiences world-wide for free, ensuring the arts remain accessible to all at a time when we need it the most.”

 For further information, please contact:

-                     Hannah McMillan: [email protected] | 07971 086649

-                     Gabriella Drinkald: [email protected] | 07894 587828

-                     Lizzie Brewster: [email protected]

 About Harrogate International Festivals

‘Harrogate International Festivals’ is a charitable organisation with a mission to present a diverse year-long programme of live events that bring immersive and moving cultural experiences to as many people as possible. Delivering artistic work of national importance, the Festival curates and produces over 300 unique and surprising performances each year, celebrating world-renowned artists and championing new and up-coming talent across music, literature, science, philosophy and psychology. The HIF+ ongoing education outreach programme engages schools, young people and the local community with workshops, talks, projects and inspiring activities, ensuring everyone can experience the Festival’s world class programme and the transformative power of the arts.

Established in 1966, Harrogate International Festivals are an artistic force to be reckoned with and a key cultural provider for the North of England.

Find out more at:

-                     Website: www.harrogateinternationalfestivals.com

-                     Facebook: @HarrogateInternationalFestivals

-                     Twitter: @HarrogateFest

-                     Instagram: @harrogatefestivals

-                     Press images can be found here

#Harrogate Festival 2020 #HIF2020 | HIFAtHome

[campaignsoftheworld]

FCB Inferno debuts stirring rallying cry for Sport England’s This Girl Can

Creative agency FCB Inferno and Sport England have launched a rallying cry that encapsulates many of the challenges and judgments that women still face – and flies in the face of them with a message of strength, confidence, and empowerment. The rallying cry can be seen in this week’s Stylist Magazine, alongside some of the stories of the women starring in the campaign. It was first released on This Girl Can’s social channels to commemorate International Women’s Day, and was supported and reshared by the likes of the UN Women’s UK account and Olympian Lizzie Simmonds. The work is part of a push in 2020 to confront the ways society must change to ensure all women feel like they too can be active, and follows on from a triumphant return to TV and out of home in January. This Girl Can hit its five-year mark in January 2020. The world has shifted dramatically in the last half a decade, as has the way that women are marketed to. But many of the original emotional, practical, and societal barriers the campaign sought to help women overcome in 2015 persist. Simultaneously, there are many women – including the women of the campaign – who can bust past their barriers to exercise time and time again and, through the simple act of getting moving, encourage others to do the same. For the first time, This Girl Can has created something that reflects the women of our campaign without showing them visually. Instead, we have created a rallying cry that draws from and is inspired by the women in our campaign and in our community.

Sharon Jiggins, EVP, FCB Inferno said: “This Girl Can has become known for showing women as they indeed are through our authentic and honest imagery and mantras. In 2020, we wanted to articulate women’s shared experiences in a new way, using our community as the inspiration for a rallying cry for all. “This piece of prose touches upon unspoken truths and shared experiences that many women have in common, and embrace every ability, experience, and way of moving. We aim to be joyously inclusive while galvanizing the women of England to move through the world as they please, and unapologetically.” Credits Sharon Jiggins – Executive Vice President Emily Whiteaway – Senior Account Director Becky Glover – Account Manager Laura Pirkis – Strategy Director Tom Lindo – Senior Strategist Nikki Chapman – Director of Production Hanna Davis – Creative Producer Russ Mallows – Creative Producer Owen Lee – Chief Creative Officer Al Young – Creative Partner Sarah Lefkowith – Senior Copywriter Nicole Chen – Senior Art Director Jude Moore – Senior Editor Richard Bagley – Head of Artwork Sarni Strachan – Joint Design Lead Max Fox – Designer Animation Studio – Schultz Schultz Grafik About Sport England Sport England is a public body and invests up to £300 million National Lottery and government money each year in projects and programmes that help people get active and play sport. It wants everyone in England, regardless of age, background, or level of ability, to feel able to engage in sport and physical activity. That’s why a lot of its work is specifically focused on helping people who do no, or very little, physical activity and groups who are typically less active - like women, disabled people and people on lower incomes. About This Girl Can Since 2015, Sport England has been working to address the significant gender gap found in sports and exercise, to build women’s confidence around being active, and help them meet the Chief Medical Officers’ guidance. The campaign was based on the insight that 75% of women say they want to do more sporting activities or exercise, but one of the unifying barriers found to be holding them back is a fear of judgement. This Girl Can’s objective is to encourage women to engage in physical activity regardless of shape, size, age or ability. Tags: International Women’s Day, Women's Day Ad, Sport England, This Girl Can, FCB Inferno, Rallying cry Read the full article

#FCBInferno #InternationalWomen'sDay #RallyingCry #SportEngland #ThisGirlCan #Women'sDayAd

[ridleymocki]

Them Wild-Eyed Boys That Had Been Away

Written for Pynch Week 17, Day 7. Pprompt:  Road trip // Accidental baby acquisition // First time

Summary: Just a good old fashion fic about stupid in love boys taking a road trip and negotiating their relationship. With bonus ladies of 300 Fox Way at the beginning, and Gangsey at the end.

Notes: I had quite a bit of fun with this, which was nice because wow, fic fatigue. Title is from 'The Boys Are Back In Town' by Thin Lizzy, because it's perfect for this, come on. Thank you so very much for reading! Pynch Week has been awesome and challenging as hell, and you guys make it worth it. One day to go! Enjoy!

Warnings: allusions to homophobia. (Ronan and Adam limiting the extent to which they're visibly together, just because they want to avoid confrontation or comment from other so they can keep their trip pleasant. No actual confrontations are had.)

also on ao3

When Adam turned to him one night and said, “I wonder if there’s magic anywhere else,” Ronan couldn’t see a reason why they shouldn’t try to find out.

There were still a few weeks before Adam had to be at college, and they’d done just about everything they could with these long, hot swathes of sunlit days, and especially while the rest of their gang was away.

So they went, packed up the car with too many snacks and probably too few shirts, and started to drive.

“We’re going to get lost,” Adam said.

“That’s the point.”

………………………………………..

They dropped Opal off at the witches’ house – they’re psychics, Ronan, god – and were fooled into staying for lunch. The house was as eclectic as ever, so they had grapefruit halves, and bits of prosciutto wrapped around slices of rock melon, home-made tea coulis over wholemeal pancakes. Maura had to wrestle the container of pancake batter away from Calla so she wouldn’t make rude shapes with their food.

Opal ate happily, her hoofed feet swinging off the edge of the chair, eating the grapefruit pith and all. She didn’t need babysitting, not really. She was too Other and ancient to really be mistaken for a child. But it wasn’t fair to leave her alone, either.

And it wasn’t fair that with Blue away and Persephone gone, this house – though never capable of reaching quiet – had grown a little emptier. It was clear in the way Maura set out too much cutlery for them and touched her hand to Ronan’s shoulder that she was missing her daughter. It wasn’t so much about having Ronan and Adam to lunch as it was about having people close to her daughter be also close to her.

“Where are you going to go?” Maura asked them, swilling a glass of sweet liquid packed with slices of lime and mint leaves.

“Don’t know,” Adam said, and shoved a bit of pancake with prosciutto into his mouth, ever the opportunistic eater. “We just want to see what there is.”

“Well you’ll see plenty,” Calla said with a scoff. “Not guaranteed that you’ll like it, though.”

“I seem to remember you doing several things that you knew you wouldn’t like, just because you were free to do it,” Maura said with a teasing smile, and folded her legs under her on the chair.

“That’s my point.” Calla threw a plastic teaspoon at her. “You’re free to explore, and then free to decide to never do it again, thank god. The in-between is just growth.”

“Is this lunch or a reading?” Ronan groused.

“I can still read people, Snake.” Calla grinned at him, in an uncharacteristically good mood; which meant she was still a pain in the ass, she just did it with a smile on her face.

With clunking steps meant to announce her arrival, Orla came down the stairs, trailing the smell of summer flowers and sunscreen. “There are my favourite lover boys!” She cried when she saw them, and Ronan would have laughed at the way Adam grew rigid, if it hadn’t been for the fact he did the same. “How have you been?!” She floated behind Adam where he sat and ruffled his hair, pressing a smacking kiss to his forehead. She went to do the same to Ronan, but when he grumbled and swore, and swatted her away she just launched at him and enveloped him in a hug instead. Adam laughed loud and bright at the look of outrage on his face.

“You look ridiculous,” Ronan growled, and she finally released him. Her crop top was almost neon pink and her shorts looked like they’d been through a paper shredder. Blue could roll her eyes at her cousin all she liked but they were not totally dissimilar. Orla just laughed, a tinkling thing, and sat down to grab a grapefruit. She passed her pith to Opal, who rewarded her with a toothy smile.

When they left it was later than they had counted on, the sunlight already turning orange, but they would have enough hours of daylight to at least make it to the next town over.

Maura framed Adam’s face with her hands for a brief second, looked between them and said, “Be safe.”

“You’d know if we weren’t,” Adam said immediately, and Maura cheerily hummed in a maybe fashion.

“Remember, do everything I would do,” Calla called to them from the door.

When they were in the BMW again and Ronan pulled onto the road, he turned to Adam and said, “There is no fucking way we’re doing everything she would do.” They left Henrietta on the sound of Adam’s laughter.

…………………………..

Apart from Gansey family functions, Ronan knew Adam had never really been anywhere outside their poky town. This was a first for him, an exercise in autonomy. They stayed in barely-there little towns, crashing at a motel late at night then exploring in the morning, setting off again in the afternoon. They didn’t have a list of sights to see; if they happened upon something then so be it. The point was movement; feeling the rubber band that kept them tied to Henrietta stretch and stretch and wondering at what point it would snap.

Being outside Henrietta was odd. The town ebbed and flowed around them. It was easy to be there. They’d been gone three days and already it was like the outside world was trying to remould them.

They didn’t hold hands if they could be seen, always sat opposite each other at a diner or café. Ronan found himself readying to throw his arm around Adam’s shoulders as they walked together, and had to hold himself back. If they could they would get rooms with two doubles and let one go unused; if they couldn’t, Adam would push two single beds together and they’d deal with the dip in the middle.

Ronan was tempted to challenge people, to order a room with one bed, to reach across the space between them and cup Adam’s cheek, kiss him for all to see. But things like that weren’t neutral when it was two young men, even if they should have been. They weren’t on this trip to fist fight their way across America. It was just about them, and they didn’t want to risk anyone else sticking their nose in.

It wasn’t bad, if you didn’t dwell on it. They knew who they were and knew what they had and it was good. Being selective about showing that was a compromise they made to keep this little road trip the way they wanted it.

It didn’t stop them from kissing in the car before they left town, or losing themselves in each other in the middle of the night. There was nothing ambiguous about one bed rumpled and one left untouched.

…………………………..

“Enjoy, honey,” their waitress said to Adam, setting a vanilla milkshake in front of him. She smiled at him, a smile that grew a little tight when she directed it at Ronan, but she did her best.

“I hate that,” Adam said quietly, as they hoed into their eggs.

“Hate what?” Ronan knew what, but Adam’s words invited the question.

“The way they look at you. Like you’re no good.” Adam ate his egg and bacon with prejudice – cutlery squeaking against the ceramic – staring furiously into the middle space like he was imagining his retribution. If he hadn’t been so serious, Ronan might have laughed at his expression, the perfect righteous outrage.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Ronan said instead, “that’s kind of what I’m going for.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I just…”

“You just?” Ronan prompted, as Adam massacred another fried tomato with his fork.

Adam shook his head. “I just wish they didn’t look at you like that, is all.”

Ronan felt something warm curl in his chest and seize him tightly. He remembered how Henry had told him weeks before how hard Adam had blushed when he’d called Ronan his boyfriend in front of them, while Ronan wasn’t there. Henry had pressed a hand to his own grin as he said how pleased Adam seemed about the word.

“I don’t want people to know me the way you know me,” Ronan said, hands gone still over his plate.

Adam sighed. “I know. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that about us. It’s just, when other people meet you– Their first impression isn’t true. Justified, because you insist on being the maximum amount of asshole you can and dressing like a punk, but it’s not accurate. They shouldn’t write you off like that.” The idea that Adam was proud to be with him still twisted Ronan’s head from time to time, feeling impossible. If he allowed himself to believe it, though, he could see why it might be infuriating to have strangers turn a nose up at someone you cherished.

Ronan reached under the table and put a hand on Adam’s knee. “I don’t give a shit what they think, Parrish. So long as you know.”

Adam smiled sadly. “I do.”

“Good.”

They ate and talked about the small stuff; how many of their friends were actually sleeping together, whether Opal and Gwenllian were getting along, getting Adam’s car certified roadworthy before he started semester.

In the end, Adam slurped the dregs of his milkshake so loud and so obnoxiously that by the time they left, they were both receiving reproachful looks, anyway.

……………………………………….

What Ronan couldn’t say in that conversation, was that people weren’t just looking at him and making a hard judgement, they were looking at him next to Adam.

In black head to toe, tattooed talons and feathers stretching over his neck and shoulders, cold eyes and a whip sharp smile, Ronan was about as far away from the picture of provincial quaintness some of these towns distilled. He was hazardous, the sort of thing a local sheriff on his coffee break would spin around in his chair just to monitor.

That was one thing, to look like trouble personified.

It was a whole other thing to be the trouble that trailed behind a boy who looked like the goddamn American dream.

Adam passed through these towns like their patron saint, a blue-jeaned, blonde-haired vision of youth. Strangers were helpless but to like him, to offer him a free piece of pie with coffee, wish him well and actually mean it. Adam had asked if there was magic anywhere else, but as the days wore on Ronan wondered if he hadn’t just brought it with him.

The people they passed saw Adam and were struck with an instant loyalty, the kind he never got in Henrietta outside of their little group. Ronan couldn’t blame them, knew from experience the futility of resisting that pull. But then they saw Ronan, violence holding his head up and keeping his shoulders back, and their reproachful looks weren’t just a go away, but a get away from him. Like Adam was shiny chrome and Ronan was corrosive against him.

But Ronan didn’t think it would help Adam’s ire to point it out, that part of people’s prejudice was the contrast between the two of them.

Instead, at night, he would reach across the shitty motel bed and pull a sleepy Adam into his chest. They would wake up overwarm and uncomfortable, but the moment where they caught each other’s eye was worth it a thousand times over.

…………………………………….

Days passed in the lazy way that summer had perfected. When Adam drove, Ronan would look at him for long seconds, the scenery outside flying by so fast that Adam was the only thing in focus. They’d talk about nonsense; how to hypothetically kidnap a polar bear, how many presidents drew dicks on their high school tables, who was the victor between pizza and burritos. Being able to voice all their most half-brained ridiculous ideas to each other was an intimacy that they’d had long before they got together, and it hadn’t changed.

They’d been away ten days when Adam, one hand steady on the wheel, used the other to fling a Skittle in the air and catch it in his mouth. “I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now,” Ronan said emphatically, and Adam’s laughter rippled through him like magic.

In a town whose beginning was an idyllic bubbling stream with a white bridge, they stopped for gas and to stock up on snacks. When Ronan came out of the gas station he saw Adam jogging back towards him from across the road. “What the hell Par–“ Adam stopped in front of him and, like a sneak attack, stuck a pink carnation behind Ronan’s ear. Sputtering, Ronan looked back across the street to see an old lady at a flower stand waving cheerily at them.

He looked back at Adam in surprise.

“It’s alright,” Adam said as he laughed, “we were chatting and she has a wife. I told her about you.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and dipped his chin at the woman. “You’re an idiot,” he grumbled, and Adam’s smile grew. Ronan stuck the carnation into the disc slot of his car stereo and that’s where it stayed.

…………………………………….

They had a fight about money at 2:00am outside the diner where they’d just eaten. The inevitability of this exact argument made them tired of it from the outset. Ronan paid for dinner like he’d done the majority of times this trip and Adam glared daggers at him and stormed outside.

Ronan didn’t do it to have power over him. He didn’t do it to show off or even because he thought Adam couldn’t pay. He did it for expediency, because it was less awkward than divvying up a bill. He did it because he knew that Adam would pay him back, would make sure they were as equal as possible. He said as much.

But Adam didn’t want to feel like he was kept, said that’s exactly how it made him feel. If this whole trip was meant to be about freedom then he should pay his way. Just because they were dating didn’t give Ronan an excuse to take everything over. He didn’t need anybody to take care of him.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Ronan was yelling and he hated it. “You can’t be in a relationship and not need anybody at the same time!”

“Why not?!” Adam was nearly shaking.

“Because I fucking need you!” It slipped out, and Adam stared at him with wide eyes. “Don’t you get it? I could pay for this whole damn trip and it still wouldn’t mean that you need me more than I need you.”

Adam let out a breath like it’d been punched out of him. Ronan looked out over the carpark, hands in fists at his sides and his whole body rigid. Inside him everything stormed, the feeling he’d given something away he couldn’t get back. Adam waited him out, and Ronan didn’t know if he was silent because he didn’t know how to help or because he had nothing to say. After a few minutes, Ronan’s hands unclenched and he walked slowly over to the car, Adam following carefully behind.

They were tired and hurt when they got back to the motel, their room presenting them with two beds, one rumpled, one pristine. Adam looked uncertainly between the two and Ronan sighed, kicked off his shoes, and held his hand out to him. Adam’s whole body seemed to deflate in relief, and his eyes were shiny when he took Ronan’s hand carefully. They climbed into the same bed, still in their clothes, hands clasped but a cautious valley of space between them.

Ronan was at the very edge of sleep when it changed. “Don’t let me fuck this up,” Adam whispered to him in the dark, voice breaking. In a heartbeat Ronan was reaching out and pulling him into his body, pressing kisses to his brow as Adam shook against him, until they slept.

…………………………………….

They were driving along a highway when the forest either side began to look wonderfully, reminiscently like Cabeswater. Ronan pulled the car over into the dirt and they climbed out, making their way into the trees. It was a stupid thing to do, go wandering in unfamiliar forestland without having told anyone they were doing so, but they’d done worse. Would probably do so again.

It wasn’t Cabeswater, of course. The trees didn’t speak Latin. It didn’t play music for them, and the sun in the sky continued to arc along its usual path. But the shade of green was just right, the dewy smell sharp and vivid, and every now and again a tree had the audacity to look familiar. It wasn’t magic but it cast a spell nonetheless, drawn from memories and longing. It was dusk when they found their way back to the car.

The next day, Adam bought a West Virginia road map from the corner store of whatever town they were in now, took a black marker and drew a circle around the patch of land that illustrated that forest. He grinned at Ronan with the pen cap still in his mouth, map spread out over the dash, and his eyes looked like adventure.

…………………………………….

The thing that they had neglected to do was inform their friends that they weren’t still in Henrietta. “Where the devil are you, Ronan?” Gansey said to him frantically through the phone, the phone that Ronan had only just powered on, after it had been dead for three days, and had immediately started ringing.

“Calm down, Dick, we’re… Adam where the fuck are we?”

Adam came out of the bathroom of their shitty motel room, towel around his hips and hair dripping. He reached out for the phone and put it on speaker when Ronan handed it over. “Hey Gans, how’s it going?” he said cheerily, and Ronan grinned at him.

“It was going spectacularly until we discovered your absence. We’re in Henrietta, where are you?”

“Hi guys!” They heard Henry yell in the background.

“Hi!” Adam chuckled. “Glad you guys got back safe.”

“Yeah and no chewing us out for not communicating when you assholes didn’t tell us when you’d be back,” Ronan groused. He was anxious to see Gansey and the others, and if he covered it with irritation that was his prerogative.

“Point,” a voice that was obviously Blue’s said. “Greetings, by the way. Or whatever.”

“Hey, Blue. Look we’ve been doing a loop around the state, we shouldn’t be more than half a day’s drive away. You want us to come back?” At this Adam looked at Ronan a little hesitantly, half asking him, as well, if that was alright. Ronan, caught between his want to see the others, his want to stay on the road with Adam, and his want to end the phone call immediately and do something about Adam’s state of undress, didn’t know how to reply.

“What? No,” Blue said, “Don’t cut your trip short for us.”

“Well this thing doesn’t exactly have a projected end point, apart from college in two weeks,” Adam said.

“We can come to you!” Gansey exclaimed, and Ronan had the ridiculous image of a light bulb lighting up above Gansey’s head, his index finger pointing skywards. “If that’s alright. We have no plans.”

Adam looked at him, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. Ronan was still struggling a little too much with the path a droplet of water was making down Adam’s chest, but he collected himself and nodded. He really did want to see them.

“That’d be great, guys. We’ll meet in the middle, I’ll text you the details.” He hung up to a chorus of delighted whooping. Adam got busy on the phone, looking up where they actually were, sending a screenshot to Gansey, then seeing what was further down the road, looking for a diner or something.

Ronan came up behind him and pressed his cheek to the side of Adam’s head, uncaring for his wet hair. Adam’s thumb paused on the screen but took up their work again in a moment. Smiling small, Ronan nudged the edge of Adam’s ear with his nose, and brought his lips down to Adam’s neck. The kisses he pressed there were light, but full of intent. He brought a hand up to his waist and Adam’s hands went totally still.

“Check out is at ten, Ro,” he said, but his voice came out teasing.

Ronan hummed. “You think they’re gonna kick us out?”

Adam turned to face him, hooking a finger into a belt loop of Ronan’s black jeans. “They can try. I’m almost sure I don’t care,” he said, and began back-stepping towards the bed.

They had to pause half way through making out for Adam to send Gansey the details of where to meet, but then Ronan was being pressed into the mattress and things outside of that room quickly stopped mattering.

They checked out of the dicey little motel at 10:04, and Adam joked that Ronan’s perpetual scowl scared the guy out of asking for the late fee. Ronan was pretty sure it was the hickey poking out of his t-shirt, though.

…………………………………….

Ronan laughed when he pulled up to the address Adam had been directing him towards for the last few hours. The pizza place was nondescript, but managed it in eerily the same way that Nino’s managed it back home. Neon lights in pink and blue to match the setting sky. Adam grinned at him from the passenger seat.

They were sitting at a booth by the window when the bell chimed and Richard Gansey III practically ran inside. At the sight of him, Ronan could practically feel his brain cross out one of the items on his long list of worries. They stood to greet him and Gansey hugged them each, first Ronan then Adam then Ronan again, like he couldn’t give enough affection to both of them at the same time. Blue and Henry were right behind, smiling wide and bright. Henry gave Adam a brief hug, but at some indefinable time Ronan and Henry had invented a secret handshake, which they performed with excess concentration while Adam and Blue embraced.

The most typifying greeting was Ronan and Blue. She went in for a hug but was lifted off her feet up to Ronan’s full height, a power move that earned from her a cry of indignation. Blue did a complicated twist that ended up with Ronan’s head under her arm, trapped in a headlock as her feet touched the ground again, the knuckles of her other hand scrabbling viciously over his buzzcut. Ronan growled and poked her in her sides, Blue releasing him with a yelp.

The worker at the counter shook his head at them judgementally while they laughed their asses off. Everyone except Gansey, who had a hand on his chest and was looking at them like he was lit up from the inside.

“Are you crying?” Blue asked him, a delighted, wicked grin on her face.

“No,” he said, but no one was convinced.

……………………………………

They ate a disgusting amount of pizza, as the trio offloaded weeks’ worth of stories from their intrepid adventures. Rainforests and ancient ruins and street food of ever increasing unfamiliarity.

Even though one of them was missing, Noah’s soft smile and chuckling palpably gone in a way they couldn’t help, it was nice.

In Brazil, Henry had swallowed a bug and insisted they go to an emergency room, sticking to the story that he’d felt like he was dying even when he was discharged after a fifteen minute consult. The irony of it being ‘He of the RoboBee’ to swallow a flying insect was not lost.

One of Gansey’s nebulous academic friends showed them around a dig site in Peru, and Blue began sarcastically calling Gansey ‘Indie’ half way through the story. Ronan began to use it as well, with as much glee as you can convey through a scowl, ensuring that it stuck, much to Gansey’s embarrassment.

“At least I wasn’t the one that tried to covertly adopt a two-toed sloth,” Gansey shot back.

Blue gasped at him. “They’re tired all the time and hang out in trees. We are obviously family, I was obliged to claim them as my children.”

Everything they said was halfway to absurd, and Ronan, even as he teased and snapped out jokes only just on the right side of derisive, was quietly glad out of his mind that they’d had a good time and were home safe.

“And how are you guys?” Henry asked them excitedly.

Adam glanced at him, looking away with a smile that Ronan hesitated to call bashful, but damn, it came close. “We’re good,” Adam said, “It’s been a really good few weeks.” He leaned back into where Ronan’s arm was strewn across his shoulder, eyes heavy and tired, but mouth upturned. Ronan wanted to take a photograph of him in that moment. All three of the faces opposite them softened and it suddenly became unbearable.

“I mean we’re alive so that’s a plus,” Ronan said, draining his coke.

………………………………..

They stayed until the middle of the night, then drove, the BMW leading the Camaro, to the motel down the road. They got one room together, two big beds, the trio piled into one and Ronan and Adam in the other. There was something about falling asleep in the same room as your closest friends that turned the world the right way up again.

“Do you want to go back tomorrow?” Adam whispered into his throat, as the others were mumbling amongst themselves.

Ronan thought about it, thought about the last few weeks with just the two of them. At the same time that he wanted more of it, more of Adam and their dumb fights and their eclipsing kisses, he realised that things were profoundly, deeply good. Good in a way that he was confident wouldn’t end when they went back home or when Adam moved to his college dorm. “Up to you,” he said easily, and meant it.

Adam hummed. “Let’s decide tomorrow.”

………………………………

(Gansey, Blue, and Henry drove back to town late the next day, but Ronan and Adam stayed on the road for another week. Not going anywhere in particular, just holding each other’s space. Sending stupid photos of each other back to the rest of the gang, bickering about who got to drive, adding more flowers to the disc slot on Ronan’s stereo.

When they got back, Orla poked at the skin under Ronan’s tired eyes. “They’re a better blue when you’re happy.” He swatted her away but didn’t contradict her.

Opal placed a newspaper crown on Adam’s head, and he rolled his eyes at Blue’s ‘king of the road’ joke.

They still had a little time before semester started, and they’d fill it well, the group of them.

But the three weeks spent in aimless, wandering abandon with Adam, navigating the seas of each other’s moods and the curious stares of others, were perfect.

“We’ll do this again,” Adam said, as they crossed the Henrietta town line. “As soon as I’m on break we should disappear again.”

Ronan found his hand, clasped it tightly. “Anytime.”)

#pynchweek #pynchweek17 #the raven cycle #pynch #fic #my fic