It's the lake in November, and the move closer to the ocean, and Gerard's fixation, and Gerard's compulsions like tidal waves dragging him down, and Mikey's more distant than ever: like they're drifting out into the middle of the ocean, whereas Gerard's just stuck there: water turning to quicksand around him, drowning. And it's the letter; Frank finds it on the floor of the boys' bathroom on the first floor. It's dropped in accident, perhaps from a pocket or something, and it's drenched in what Frank hopes is tap water, and the words: scrawled in blue ink are difficult to make out as the words join together in a fuzzy inky mess. The only paragraph legible is the final one, and even still, it barely is: 'I've been underwater for a long time now, but I'm not drowning, I'm beginning to think I can breathe like this, but I can't, I'm gasping for breath, and I have to do this, Mikey, I have to end this myself. I'm going to the lake on the 1st of November, don't wait for me... I'm not coming back.' And the name signed at the bottom is little more than a smudged mess of blue ink, and there's nothing Frank can do about it, but he knows for certain that the one thing he can't do is ignore this letter, and he reminds himself of that as he folds it into his pocket. It's a suicide note, Frank's stupid, but not stupid enough to brush over that fact, and whoever this person is, Frank knows that they most certainly don't deserve to die. And Frank isn't going to let them. Because he's going to find this person; he's got time now at least, and he can save them, he will save them - Frank promises himself that. But one person in a whole school, it's like a needle in a haystack, but he's got time, it's November 1st in thirty days, and he can only hope that it will be enough. He's got one month: the date is October 1st.

~ W A T T P A D F E A T U R E D ~ A Natasha Romanoff & Clint Barton origin story. ❝My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova and I work for the KGB. But my life is something of a lie. I work for no one. I work for myself. And I always work alone. I have a very specific skill set. I have charm. I have wit. I have sex appeal. I play to the common weaknesses of men, pulling them in on an invisible thread, ensnaring them in my inescapable web and striking mercilessly like a poisonous spider. For that reason, they call me the Black Widow. I'm cunning, ruthless and utterly unstoppable. I am a one woman fighting machine. I can do more damaged unarmed than most people could do armed. ❞ ❝My name is Clinton Francis Barton and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm the deadliest agent they have on a squad of suits and scientists. I'm the masked vigilante with a bow and arrow and I never miss. I have keen eyes. I have perfect aim. I have agility. I can shoot down any adversary from any distance, and they never see me coming. They call me Hawkeye, because I have the vision of a bird of prey and I strike just as precisely. I'm strong, I'm dexterous and utterly remarkable. I'm a one man invasion. I can cause more destruction with a Palaeolithic weapon than most people can do with a gun.❞ Two nomadic souls; one American, one Russian. Completely unlike one another. Or so they think. This is a tale of prejudice, politics and passion in Budapest. #60 in Fanfiction (23/10/2015)

Engentado (N) needing to stay alone away from everything and everyone . Grant Ward just wants to be alone. Or Angy's bittersweet birthday gift for Tat :-)

The Marauders are starting their fifth year at Hogwarts; Remus is starting with a massive scar across his face - a byproduct of the increasing severity of his furry little problem, which is a definite cause for concern despite his insistence that it it's fine. Sirius is starting with the memories of a certain morning at 12 Grimmauld Place in August: memories that he might not ever forget, yet is desperate to cloak underneath the facade that every is fine at home and that he and his parents just sometimes encounter minor disagreements. James is starting his fifth year, yes, but more importantly, he is starting phase five of his plan to woo Lily Evans: somehow his friends seem doubtful that he might succeed, but James, being James, is in no lack of confidence. And Peter, well, Peter is starting to wonder just why he puts up with these people, and if he should really be feeling sorry for Lily Evans, and maybe if he should have asked to have been sorted into Hufflepuff.