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brighterdaysarebeforeus · 8 months

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Hobie is not having a fun time right now. (>.<)

Also sorry for the delay in this, I got stuck elsewhere, hahaha.

@hobiesgender @royallydivinelesbian

Masterlist

Hobie was far from mad; he was furious. Enraged. So overcome with a burning, molten anger that he couldn’t figure out what to do with it right at that current moment.

He tilted his head back against the surprisingly cool stone of the cell, glaring up at the ceiling. The stone didn’t provide a lot of light, obviously, that was coming from the setting sun hitting the window just right, but that didn’t particularly matter to Hobie right at this moment. He had been put in a holding cell, all by himself, a temporary place to stay until either his death sentence or his permanent relocation to an actual prison; apparently the Royalists weren’t entirely sure what to do with him just yet. There was no physical evidence, apparently, of Hobie managing to kidnap the prince from the castle, no video evidence either; just the word of some scientist who clearly wasn’t even sure if she’d seen Hobie or not, and couldn’t even remember roundabouts when she was supposed to have seen him.

And the kicker was, Hobie never went near the palace! He hated the place with a passion, the obvious riches that went to the Royal family while the city closest to them suffered from poverty, the way it fell on him and his crew to keep their people from going hungry or giving them directions to keep them from sleeping on the streets. There was no way he would ever go anywhere near the place, and no way he would have any idea what to do with the prince if he’d ever found the kid in his possession (so to speak) —

Except, apparently, he had had the prince running with him and his crew.

That was the thing, wasn’t it, that was the whole thing that sort of tore Hobie up the most. He’d trusted Michael, let him get close. Not even just close to him, but close to his family. Showed him their hiding spots, got him involved in his community, let him be a part of their group with welcoming smiles and open arms. Hobie had considered the possibility that the kid was some kind of sheltered, some kind of worker for the palace, because it was obvious; it was obvious in the way he’d interacted with the people, with the way Michael had stared around them as they walked the city, there was no way he’d grown up anywhere but in comfort, and Hobie had been fine with that. He’d had something in place to keep Michael with him, with them, long term, because despite his obvious naivety Hobie had actually really liked the kid, but all that went out the window the second Miguel had pinned him to the ground. It was one thing for Michael to have come from a serving family in the castle, but for him to be the actual prince —

The door to the left from him clanged open. Hobie didn’t move. Footsteps made their way briskly down the hallway, and he closed his eyes as if that would put off whatever was about to happen. He wasn’t in the mood, he didn’t want to deal with it, but he didn’t have a choice; the footsteps stopped in front of him, silence echoing loudly between him and whoever was in front of him currently. Hobie kept his eyes shut.

“You’re not even going to look at me?”

“Nah.” Hobie shifted so he was a little more comfortable against the wall. She didn’t sound mad, or annoyed; she actually sounded kind of amused, and so Hobie decided that his full attention wasn’t necessarily needed. Miguel would’ve been spitting, he knew that much, or he’d be overly gloating about the fact that he’d finally caught Hobie. “No need, is there? News’s gonna be bad either way. Don’t gotta look at you for that, do I?”

Honestly, he blamed Margo; she was the one who pointed out his luck would run out, that little brat, and it looked like it finally had. He was gonna miss her.

(He had to blame Margo; it was the only surface level thought that kept him from blaming Michael — Miles — because he didn’t want to focus on anger right now, in what could potentially be his last minutes. He wanted to think about his crew, the good times he had with them. He blamed Margo because it was easier, because he didn’t actually blame her for the situation he’d gotten himself in at all.)

“What if it’s not bad news?” Hobie’s eyes drifted open at that, but he didn’t look down at the woman in front of him. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning as he took in the words and mulled them over. She pressed her advantage as he did so, he could hear her leaning on the bars now. “I could help you out, get you out of here. You don’t have to go down for this.”

“No vengeance on the renegade teen who kidnapped your precious prince?” Hobie sneered, his eyes flickering as he forced himself to keep staring upwards at the ceiling. He wouldn’t look at her, he wouldn’t; listening to this woman was likely only going to get him into more trouble, and nothing was worth that. “No righteous judgement upon the poor, lowly kid who dared to even look his way for the smallest of moments?”

“We both know that wasn’t what happened, don’t we?” His eyes dropped at that, staring at the woman through the bars she was leaning against even as he didn’t move a muscle; she had big, bushy hair that was barely being held back by a headband, dark clothes and boots on. She looked thin, in that way people get when they get too engrossed in their work and forget to eat, and she was staring at him intently through big round glasses. His mouth went a bit dry at the implication she was tossing his way oh so casually. “You’ve never come within a fifty foot radius of this place before now, have you?”

“How do you know?” Hobie asked, but his defiance was dwindling the longer she stood in front of him. She smiled, but it wasn’t kind or friendly in any sense of the words; it set Hobie’s teeth on edge a bit. “I could be here every other night, just skulking around.”

“But you’re not.” She pulled a file from seemingly out of nowhere, standing up straight as she leafed through it. “Hobart Brown” and he gagged at his name, obvious and loud and echoing in the space between them, but she kept on, “wanted for misdemeanor things. Squatting, petty thievery, some defacing public property — ”

“Oi, hold on,” Hobie dropped forward now, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared her down, “there was no defacing any sort of public property — ”

“The point,” she said as she snapped the file shut, “is that all that little stuff? Not important, in the long run. Not in any way that really matters, right?” Hobie fell silent, pressing his lips together. She took his silence as an answer and pressed on. “Any other thing you’d get caught for, you’d get a slap on the wrist and nothing else. Maybe a day or two, in holding, but that’s it. That’s nothing, honestly, back out on the streets with your friends in no time. But this.” She leaned on the bars again, staring down at Hobie. “You could potentially hang for this, kid. This is some real trouble you’ve gotten yourself into here.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the lady staring down at Hobie, who mulled everything over in his mind. His jaw worked as he thought, tongue playing with the ring circling his lower lip. The kicker was, she wasn’t entirely wrong and he knew it; he just didn’t want to give in so easily because he wasn’t entirely sure where this was going or what she wanted from him. It made him uneasy, but…he didn’t really want to face the consequences of “kidnapping the prince” when his only real crime was taking in some random kid he’d found off the streets. It wasn’t his fault that he was so willing to help his community.

“What’s the catch?” He asked, and the lady smiled.

#punkflower #hobie brown #olivia octavius #a whole new world au #part 15

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

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MAG 187 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: taking a bath.

Lol, that elevator music xD

HELEN: "So, where’s the old ball and chain?" Fucking Helen... Always talking about others in a degrading way... Also typical narcissistic behavior, pushing others down in order to feel like they’re better.

JON: "You hoped that by nudging us past his domain, Martin would still be there when I arrived… so I would have to pass through on my own. Apparently, you were right." HELEN: "I thought you said you weren’t going to look inside people’s heads?" JON: "I thought you said you weren’t people." HELEN: "Touché." JON: "Well, for what it’s worth, I have tried not to look inside you." By now Jon has seen enough of the Distortion's behavior as Helen, it has become easy to predict what she's up to.

HELEN: "… He’s still so new to all of this, caught up in ideas of justice and ‘solving’ things. Sure, he can wave away the theoretical idea of people suffering…" JON: "But if he sees it up close, he might try to get his boyfriend to smite you?" I feel like Jon likes the sound of that. His boyfriend.

JON: "I’m trying to ‘know’ if there’s another route I can take." HELEN: "And?" JON: "Turns out there is, actually. But it is rather full of spiders." Coincident? I think not!!! The Web wants Jon to pass on the Fears.

HELEN: "The tape recorder feels more, um… awake." Hmmm, I wonder in what sense... The tape recorders have already been very actively clicking themselves on (or appearing at all) in S4. Is it just because the Web is now in this world instead of lurking at the edges?

HELEN: "Even though I saved you from Michael." The Distortion saved itself from Michael. Suddenly putting itself clearly on the side of "I am not your friend" is not what the Distortion is about. Besides, if it had killed Jon, the "Wonderland" of an Eyepocalyse, which is oh so loved by the Distortion, would have been delayed.

JON: "I liked Helen." HELEN: "I am Helen." JON: "The real one." It is consistent for his character, but I find it funny that Jon seems to bond with people rather quickly. He knew Helen for 20 minutes. He knew Jordan for 20 minutes.

JON: "True. But as you’ll recall, I was pretty paranoid myself at that point." HELEN: "So what? You saw yourself in her? A sad reflection? A possible future?" Hmmm, maybe it's the same with Jordan. He bonded with him over his experience with the Corruption.

HELEN: "Oh, Jon! This existence can be wonderful, if you just let it." JON: [Sadly] "I know." :( He could just give up. Resign himself to his role as Archivist... Reminds me of working in retail, for example. Other people get sent to ware house duty because they're too rude be around customers. While I have to do the dirty work with customers because I care too much about not being an asshole. Or like working in a team with the same pool of work load. Others put their feet up, after all the work gets done by the others. But I don't want to be someone like that. I don't think I could be someone like that...

JON: "I see. How long have you been working with Elias?" HELEN: "I’m not." JON: [Faux-shocked] "Helen! Is that… a lie?" HELEN: "No! No, it’s not. I don’t know him. I’ve never even – Look, I’m happy here, all right?" Changing the subject, hehe... We know, that it was Elias who sent og!Helen to the Institute. Did he also suggest that Helen will probably be confused after her statement so there’s high chances of her finally walking through his door? Was it also Elias who sent Michael to Sasha, so they could find out to use CO2 extinguishers against Prentiss?

HELEN: "You are so difficult to like sometimes. I’ve been nothing but nice to you." JON: "Maybe that’s why I never trusted you." Ohhh, yes, I've talking about this in another post already. I'm super wary of people who are immediately over-the-top nice to me. That's very often a facade which hides a very ugly personality. (Also, that was a lie again. Helen threatened him in MAG 157, so not very nice. But very typical for that personality again. Stating untrue things in a beneficial and factual way, suggesting you should believe it.)

(STATEMENT) "Well, not a dead end. It’s a door that says ‘Honeymoon Suite’." HELEN: [Saucy] "Currently unoccupied…" (STATEMENT) "I turn to retrace my steps. I must have taken a wrong urn." HELEN: "Just in case you and Martin were looking for a room." Pfff, Helen is so pushy and nosy regarding things which are absolutely none of her business.

"How long… How long has Alex been alone now? " Ha! Another character called Alex!

The sound of laughter during the statement. So mean...

"She’d love nothing more than to help me, although she does hate to see me check out, it’s always so hard on her when guests leave." Making you feel bad for a totally normal thing...

VICTIM: "I don’t know how long I’ve been here." JON: "Look. I’m so sorry –" VICTIM: "You’ve got to help me!" JON: [Angrily] "Don’t touch me!" It's a stressful situation, but you're always allowed to set boundaries. No one gets to touch you when you don't want to. Again, it's just a shitty situation all over like so many others in TMA. Also, especially understandable that it’s Jon who doesn’t want to be touched... So many have hurt him..

HELEN: "Oopsie. Not so easy, is it? Keeping up your humanity?" Oh yeah, and then making you feel bad for setting boundaries...

JON: "You’re dangerous because for all the torture and cruelty, you still somehow got us to think you’re our friend." Mentioned it in MAG 183 (I think?) already that I'm not sure, what's more dangerous. More straight up hostile Helen. Or fun Helen. The one that makes you laugh about all her little manipulative comments. Schrödinger’s douchebag: Come on, don't be like that, it was just a joke!

JON: "No, you are the question of “What lurks behind a smile?” Is a friendship true, or is it reaching out with hands that cut you?" Being wary of the people who are over-the-top friendly... JON: "And when one face finally stopped smiling, you just changed the face." Helen taking over from Michael.

HELEN: "Fine. So if that’s all true… why? Why would I do any of that? What’s my actual motive?" JON: "I don’t think you even have one. It’s just what you are." I have asked myself this question so many times. And I've come to the same conclusion. There is no grand motive behind that. Just doing it over and over again, torturing others, they like that. The feeling of being able to make a person so submissive, so obedient that they will do everything to stay your friend. It makes me sick... I have once asked one of my “Helens” if she knows that those things she did are horrible. She got all smug and said yes and that she likes it and is proud of it. Fucking hell..

JON: "I will end you." [SILENCE BUT FOR SOME CREAKING] JON: "What, nothing? No smirk? A laugh? I’ve got you rattled." HELEN: "I’m not scared of you." JON: "Helen… Was that… a lie?" Smug and badass Jon is back, yaaaaaaaaaay!

JON: "Urgh!" [A STRANGE SOUND RINGS OUT AS THE ARCHIVIST REAPPEARS IN THE WASTELAND] MARTIN: "Christ, Jon!" JON: [Groggy] "Oh, Martin! Good." MARTIN: "Wh– Wh-wh-what… What happened? Th-th-there was the hotel and then…" Hmmm, I like the headcanon that Martin saw (and heard) something in the sky shifting and and suddenly, like "the sky ate him" but in reverse, it spits out Jon and Martin catches him^^ The soundscaping suggests otherwise though. After "Christ Jon" and during "Oh, Martin! Good." there's rubble to be heard, like climbing over debris. And only after "What happened?" we hear fabric rustling. So sounds to me like Jon fell out of the sky in front of Martin, then gets up and they hug.

JON: "Do you? Want to mourn?" MARTIN: "… A bit, I guess. I-I mean, she was our friend. Sort of. A bit." It's okay to be upset losing a "friend" like this. After all, there most definitely were fun times too, if it was just awful, you probably wouldn't have become their friend, after all.

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 187 #tma #tma spoilers

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nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 4 months

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Helpless Part 17 sorry for not posting yesterday

“So, di Angelo."

"I'm hopeless aren't I?"

"I mean there's still hope, you just need to not mess up.”

“I’m not good at that.”

“Luckily for you there’s motivation.”

“What?”

“You can’t lie until you and Nico kiss."

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!"

"Calm down, what are you hiding anyways Solace."

"When I heal people I feel all their pain, I almost killed myself, I'm useless, I'm hopelessly in love with someone who is halfway to death, I glow in the dark, I'm only alive on necter and ambrosia, I would kill every single Demeter kid right now if I could, I pass out really often but I can feel it before hand so I hide in my office when it's about to happen so no one knows. Fuck. Shit." Will ran towards the forest with tears in his eyes but Piper ran after him,

"Wait." Piper charmspoke when they were in the middle of the forest, it was dangerous but neither of them cared in that moment.

"Oh fuck you, leave me alone."

"Will-"

"If you tell anybody a word of what I said I swear to Apollo I will rip you apart limb for limb McLean." Piper shivered, Will couldn't lie...

"Breathe. In and out, I'm going to unpack a bit of what you said alright? If it's too much tell and I'll stop." Will just nodded barely breathing as Piper sat down beside him, "You feel everyone's pain when you heal them?"

"It's a trade off, if people knew they wouldn't let me heal everyone."

"Doesn't that mean you're almost constantly in pain?"

"It's worth it."

"What do you feel right now?"

"Broken rib, last time I healed Nico. I mean I feel other things from a week ago but they all would have healed a bit by now so it's not as bad. I've been on painkillers anyways, practically high on them at this point."

"That's-"

"-not heathly, I'm fully aware but I don't give two fucks."

"Alright, you tried to kill yourself? Why? Are you alright?"

"After the Manhattan battle, Michael and Lee... I was on the bridge but I met someone there. We convinced each other to not jump, I realised I couldn't leave Kay and Austin alone. They lost two older brothers in the war, they wouldn't be losing a third. I still sometimes wish I'd done it, but they can't be alone."

"Will, show me your wrists."

"No, fuck off."

"Will-"

"Don't act like you fvcking care, leave me alone."

"Will, I care. I just want to make sure you're okay, don't make me charmspeak you."

"Fine." Will muttered in tears, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. His arms were covered in shallow, red, cuts, Piper counted 14 on one arm and 17 on the other. She pulled the crying boy into a hug,

"I'm here for you."

"I feel so useless, I've never been on a quest, I can barely fight, I'm not half as good of a healer as Micheal was. Everyone would be better off without me, the Demeter kids agree."

"Never say that again okay? Almost all of camp would be dead without you."

"I couldn't save them, it's my fault."

"You still saved all those people; you didn't kill anyone Will."

"I didn't help them either, it's my fault they died."

"No it's not, you tried to save them."

"But I didn't."

"You can't save everyone, some people are too close to dying."

"I should have saved them."

"It's impossible to save everyone, some people are too close to death."

"Micheal could have done it."

"People die Will, death is a part of existence. You can't delay every death, it's not your fault."

"It's the only good thing about me, healing people. If I can't do that well enough what's the point of me living?"

"William Andrew Solace listen to me, you can't save everyone. Even then you're worth more than your power, clearly considering I've had twelve people come to me asking how to make you like them. You're cool, funny, loyal, ridiculously smart as in smarter than half the Athena cabin, and you actually genuinely care about everyone."

"It's just, when they die on my watch. I feel like I killed them." A few second's of silence passed,

"When was the last time you cut?" Piper asked with caution not trying to upset Will any more then he already was.

"Two days ago, when I thought Nico might not make it. The thought of him dying, fuck." A tear rolled down his face and he pulled away from the daughter of Aphrodite.

"I'm going to find you a therapist okay? Do you think that'll help?"

"Yes, but I'm too scared to open up to people. Fvcking curse, I really want to punch Lou Ellen right now."

"I'll find someone that can help."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to talk more or is it too much?"

"Too much."

"Alright, just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Nico's halfway to death?"

"Yes, I want to lock him in the infirmary because I don't know how much longer he'll last with the amount he's eating and drinking."

"Shit."

"Weren't you meant to be giving me advice on how I can get him to like me?" Trying to change the topic, he wasn't exactly meant to be telling people this stuff.

"Oh rightttt that's what I was meant to be doing."

"I'm slightly more hopeful then I was a week ago, at least now I know he's gay."

"Who told you?" Piper asked reaching for her dagger,

"Nico...? We were playing twenty questions and I asked him if he was straight."

"Ohhh okay, so I don't need to kill anyone."

"I don't think so...?"

"Great, so Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. I think... show him you care but don't worry about him too much, honestly just be normal with him, he doesn't get that from most people. The most important thing, give him space but don't let him push you away, he does that a lot."

"Thanks McLean."

"It's my job." Piper said, messing up his hair.

"You said twelve people came to you trying to date me, who exactly were they?"

"Well it's meant to be confidential, but one of them was Leo when he first met you. Don't tell him told you, he will kill me."

"Leo Valdez? That's unexpected."

"The more you know Solace, the more you know. Anyways I should probably go, me and Annabeth are dying Percy's hair red."

"What?!"

"He's the little mermaid so naturally we're kidnapping him and dying his hair red."

"Well I wish you luck and I can't wait to see red-head Percy."

***

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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 1 year

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Sinister Debut - Emery x Elite

Part of my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series

I have to admit, I had a lot of fun writing the sinister version of Emery. I might do it more often. We'll see. In the picture above, you can kinda see what I was aiming at for her appearance. The hair color/style, makeup, eyes, and her outfit.

Following this (at some point) will be

Healing ((BTE happenings after the match, between Elite and Dark Order))

--and--

Phone Call ((aftermath of the match, following BCC in their locker room as Mox figures out a solution to their Emery problem))

Word Count: 4,329

Tag List: @blxxckheart @summertimefun1982 @katries @himbos-hotline

(if you want added to the tag list, please let me know. You can say 'all' to be added to all four, or specify, between NJPW, WWE, AEW and Dark Angel)

Warnings: violence, swearing, OC essentially loses her mind?

(divider by)

Brandon and Nakazawa stood backstage, stretching and mentally preparing themselves for their match. Time was ticking away quicker than either would like it to, but they had no other choice. They would do this to avenge their fallen friends, even if it meant getting their asses kicked. As he bent over, stretching his arms toward his toes, Brandon began thinking and realized something strange.

“Hey, Nak.”

“Yeah?” the shorter man replied, looking up from his spot on the floor as Brandon stood back up to full height.

“Have you seen Emery at all today?”

Nak paused, his face scrunching up in thought before he shook his head, “No, I haven’t. Not since Friday.”

“That’s weird. I… I kinda thought she’d be here… ya know?”

“Yeah…” Nak gave a solemn nod before adding, “Maybe it’s best she’s not, though.”

“Right. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt. The Bucks—and especially Kenny and even Hangman—they’d never let me hear the end of it if Emery got hurt on our watch.”

Nak nodded in agreement before they heard the familiar ‘Wild Thing’ music play in the background.

Their time was up.

“No sense in delaying the inevitable, I guess,” Brandon frowned, holding a hand out to help Nak up off the ground, “You ready?”

“As I’d ever be. Are you?”

“Don’t have a choice, do we? Let’s just… go out there and… if we go down, we go down swinging.”

“Take one of them with us,” Nak gave a stern nod, his hands on his hips.

“Definitely. Let’s go then.”

The two of them made their way towards the go-position, unaware of the chaos that was about to ensue, as someone watched them from the distance.

She was shrouded in darkness, the shadows of the equipment hiding her well. Blue hair hung loosely around her face, which was covered in dark makeup. The piercing red eyes that peered out from behind the curtain of blue hair gave her an ominous presence, made even worse by her emotionless stare.

Emery was long gone and had been for hours now; the Dark Angel had even come and gone. What stood in the shadows was someone that only had been seen once in the past ten years.

All of the emotions that had broken Emery over the past month—heartache, loss, helplessness, hopelessness, tiredness, and betrayal—had awoken her deepest darkest being.

Minutes ticked by as she stood there, still as stone, ‘Wild Things’ done playing as the ‘Elite Anthem’ begins to play. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The Sinister Angel stalked towards the ring, a sickening smile appearing on her face. It was time to play.

-Meanwhile-

Kenny walked all around his home, looking in every room as he called out for her, “Emery?”

He had sat down to play a game earlier in the day, and she had been right beside him. It was their usual day-off activity, but he had noticed Emery seemed more quiet than normal. Her smile had seemed forced, and it was as though her mind was elsewhere.

Emery had promised Kenny she wouldn’t get involved in the match that night on Dynamite between Blackpool and Elite—or… what was left of the Elite. Brandon Cutler and Michael Nakazawa were all that was left—besides Emery—and easy targets for BCC. Kenny knew Emery could handle herself in a match—that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Blackpool had no qualms about attacking anybody and everybody and had no problems making people bleed. The last thing Kenny wanted was for his Angel to get hurt.

Frowning, Kenny made his way to the only room he hadn’t checked yet—the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he carefully, quietly pushed it open in case she was napping. But the room was empty.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kenny thought as he turned to leave the room—until something caught his eye. The closet was closed, but the light was still on inside. Walking over, he slowly opened the door, curiosity flowing through him. Emery was not inside, but from the mess he saw, Kenny knew she had been at one point.

“I wonder what she was looking for…” he thought, scratching his beard as he reached down to pick up a box. The lid was on top but seemed to be thrown on in haste. Taking a quick look at the contents before he shut the lid, Kenny froze in place as he recognized the contents.

“No… no—” He quickly set the box down on an empty shelf nearby before quickly shuffling through Emery’s clothes in the very back of the closet.

“Please let it be here, please let it—” Kenny whispered, his eyes wide. When he reached the wall, it felt as though his heart stopped, and he stood there in a momentary daze before shaking himself out of it. Hurriedly, he pulled his cell out of his jean pocket and dialed Matt’s number.

“Hey, what’s up, Ken?” Matt answered.

“Nick still there with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Nick asked as he joined the conversation, worried.

“Emery’s gone—and so is her outfit for Sinister.”

“Shit,” both brothers replied, “You don’t think she’s--?”

“Oh, I know she is,” Kenny frowned, grinding his teeth as he raced down the stairs, grabbing his keys and running out the front door, “You guys don’t have to—I know you’re still hurt, Matt. But I’m going—I ain’t about to let BCC get their hands on her.”

“I’d be more concerned about her hurting BCC,” Nick said as a beeping sound was heard from their side of the call.

“If it was just one or two of BCC, yeah,” Kenny agreed, “But not four of them. We’ve seen how Mox can get sometimes. He won’t hesitate.”

“True. We’ll meet you at the arena, Kenny,” Matt told him.

“Just be careful. I don’t want you getting more injured than you are—and we know how Emery would feel if you did.”

“Yeah, we know. I’ll be careful—let’s just…. Let’s save our family, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kenny tossed his phone into the cupholders between the seats as he drove, focused on the road as his jaw clenched in both worry and frustration.

“Dammit Emery, you --how could I not have noticed Dark or Sinister coming back?!”

-Back at Arena-

Emery stood in the shadows, watching the match from behind a curtain. It had only been a few moments since the start, but BCC already had the advantage. Both Nakazawa and Brandon were bleeding, the red liquid pouring down from the tops of their heads. Yet, neither refused to give up.

As she stood there, her hands clenched and unclenched, her short black nails digging into her palms each time she closed her fists.

They had started at a disadvantage, as Mox and Claudio had ambushed Nak and Brandon on the ramp and attacked them outside the ring before the match even started. Both men were clearly in pain but kept going, refusing to go down without a fight.

It was when Emery noticed Yuta taking cheap shots at Nakazawa outside the ring that her head tilts to the side. The anger and darkness inside her began to boil over as she stalks past the curtain that once hid her from view. Calmly, slowly, she walked towards the ring, dragging the black kendo stick behind her, the scratching on the floor like music to her ears—though at this point, she heard absolutely nothing.

Not even the crowd’s cheers and gasps when they saw her registered in her mind. Her red eyes were focused on the ring – and as she got closer, each member of Blackpool Combat Club stopped their attacks, staring at her. Mox nudged Claudio, gesturing towards Emery like ‘what the hell?’ as she stood five feet from the ring.

Slowly, she raised her free hand up to the hood on her head and pushed it back, revealing her blackened face as she stared a hole at Mox, ignoring the other three members for the moment.

Yuta stared across the ring at her in shock; this was not a version of Emery he knew, and to be honest, he was a little terrified.

The crowd around was cheering for her, chanting her name, but the voices didn’t reach her consciousness as she slowly crept into the ring, ignoring the referee’s warning. Mox waved him off, doubting that Emery would do anything at all.

“What’chu gonna do, lil girl?” He taunted her, a smirk on his face, “Playing dress up and make-believe again?”

Claudio chuckled beside him, his arms down at his side.

Nakazawa came out of nowhere, pulling on Claudio’s arm and turning him around before he began chopping at the taller guy’s chest. It caught the Swiss man by surprise, but with a swift knee to the gut and some elbow strikes to the back of the neck, Nakazawa was back out of the picture. As Claudio stood up, Mox began to walk towards Emery, a cocky smirk on his face until Emery finally moved. Her grip on the kendo stick tightened, her legs tensing to keep her balance, as she suddenly swung her arm towards Mox. The wood connected with his stomach with a sickening crack sound, the impact causing Mox to stumble backward and grip his body in pain. Claudio looked at Emery in shock, surprised she had actually done anything as the referee called for the bell ending the match as Bryan and Yuta climbed up onto the apron. Mox held a hand back at them, telling them not to get in the ring as he straightened up and glared at the woman in front of him.

“You think you got balls, eh--?” Mox sneered, stalking toward her once again- but she was ready. Her lips twisted up into a devilish smirk as she gripped the kendo stick with both hands and quickly spun around. The impact caught Mox directly on the back and the side of his ribs; she didn’t stop there, though, as once the sound reverberated around the area, she pulled the weapon back and made a quick succession of attacks. Ten seconds later, five blows in, Claudio quickly crossed the ring—causing Emery to avert the attack onto him. As the wood made contact with his ribs, Claudio closed his arm around it, stopping the kendo stick from moving.

“I don’t want to—” He tried telling her, but she was past listening. Emery let out a blood-curdling screech, causing Claudio to wince from the close proximity to his ears before launching herself at the taller man. The sudden force of her body against him caused him to tumble backward, landing on the matt as she rained down fists against his face. Bryan and Yuta quickly climbed through the ropes to stop her, Bryan being the one to wrap his arms around her mid-section and pull.

Feeling his arms snake around her, Emery locked her legs around Claudio’s and began scratching and clawing at him as long as she could. The instant that Bryan had a good grip on her, Claudio slid away from her, causing their legs to untangle. Another loud wail escaped her throat, making Bryan wince from the high pitch so close to his ear, holding on as tight as he could as she thrashed about against him. Yuta stood there, unsure if the person he was seeing was actually Emery; he was doubtful, but a part of him knew it was her. He would know that voice anywhere.

“Wheeler—do something!” Bryan yelled out, snapping the younger man out of his daze.

“Like what?!”

“Find something to hold her down!” Bryan ordered, his grip on Emery slacking the longer she fought against him. Mox had made his way back to his feet as Yuta climbed out of the ring and began looking underneath it for a form of restraint.

“Lil spitfire—” Mox smirked, actually liking what he was seeing from her. If he had known this side of Emery existed, he would have tried harder to bring her into the BCC. Emery clenched her hands onto Bryan’s arms, digging her nails into his skin as far as she could and dragging her hands back.

“Son of a---!” Bryan yelled, letting her go as he grabbed at his arms; long lines of blood began to trickle onto his skin from her scratches. Darting away from the three guys, Emery slid to the outside of the ring and disappeared under as they followed. Pulling back the apron, they were surprised to find her gone.

“Where the hell is she?!” Mox yelled, frustrated, as Claudio released the apron. They circled the ring, kicking at a beat-up Brandon and Nakazawa as they went. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker before going out completely. Nothing happened for a brief minute—until the sounds of metal on skin sounded, and shouts of agony came from Mox and Bryan. As the lights came back on, Emery reared back and heaved the steel chair forward, crashing it against Claudio’s back twice in quick succession.

She was breathing heavily, but a smile was plastered across her face; a noise from behind her caught her attention, and as her head snapped around to look at it, the smile on her face disappeared. When her eyes landed on Yuta, he froze in place just a few feet away from her. Handcuffs and rope were in his hands, and despite knowing he should snap out of it and restrain her as he was instructed to do, Yuta just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Ree….” He whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. Slowly, she turned around, her head tilting to the side as she eyed him curiously. Foot by foot, Emery stalked towards him, her eyes never leaving his. Eventually, she was chest-to-chest with him, staring up into his brown eyes.

Brown eyes that once held adoration and love for her.

Brown eyes that had taken pleasure in attacking her family.

Brown eyes—that had shattered her heart.

A smile crept its way onto her face, and for a split second, Yuta thought he was in the clear until another high-pitched scream came from her, and she spun around. The heel of her foot left the ground, coming up to smack him in the head, throwing him off balance; the rope and handcuffs in his hands fell from his grip. She took the opportunity and launched herself at him, knocking Yuta to the ground—but before she could attack further, strong arms wrapped around her and yanked her off of him. The force of the pull caught her by surprise, her hands going to the arm around her throat and digging her nails into him. Mox grunted out in pain but refused to let go, instead falling backward onto the floor and wrapping his legs around her smaller frame. As Bryan reached down to grab the rope and handcuffs, he glared at Yuta but didn’t say a word to him.

“Bring her over here, Mox!” Bryan ordered as he walked over to the corner of the ring.

“One sec—” Mox said, tightening the grip on her a bit; the lack of oxygen began to take effect, and her struggles began to weaken a bit. When she was nearly limp against him, Mox pushed her off of and into Claudio’s waiting arms; he took her over to Bryan, who grabbed one of her hands and placed her stomach first against the ring post. Seething, Bryan slapped one of the metal handcuffs around her wrist before giving the other one to Claudio to secure her other wrist. This effectively gave her nowhere to run to, no way to get away from or attack them.

“Just for good measure,” Bryan huffed, taking the rope and circling it around her and the post just as she began to regain consciousness. He tied the two ends as tightly as he could and stood back, a smile forming on his face as he watched Emery fight against the restraints to no avail. She began screaming at them, much to Bryan’s annoyance; he lifted the apron and looked underneath, finding a toolbox and pulling it out quickly. Opening it, his eyes brightened as he saw the duct tape, and without hesitation, Bryan ripped a piece off and looked at Mox with a nod. Mox walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her head again, locking her in place, as Bryan forcefully applied the tape across her mouth, silencing her for the most part.

“Now… where were we?” Bryan asked the other members of BCC before they wrapped around the ring and grabbed Nakazawa and Brandon, tossing them into the ring to inflict more punishment. As they go to resume their attack, they’re met with some resistance, as Brandon and Nakazawa fight back, throwing punches of their own. It doesn’t last long, however, as the blood loss begins to become too much. Mox grabs Brandon’s wrists and began stomping against his face while Claudio stretches out Nakazawa and jabs elbow strikes into his neck area.

Yuta stands at the edge of the ring, watching as he tries to drown out the muffled yells coming from behind him. From her spot, tied to the post, Emery had no choice but to watch the attack on her friends. Her wrists began to redden from her fighting against the handcuffs, the skin going raw.

The timekeeper clangs on the bell, trying to get help out to the ring, but no one comes out. Mox lets go of Brandon momentarily, ripping off his protective mask as Yuta began throwing punches at him before stepping on his throat. Claudio lifts up Nakazawa, delivering a powerbomb, before kicking the unconscious man out of the ring. Mox exited the ring, grabbed a microphone, and threw the bell away from the table.

“Where are the Young Bucks? Where’s the Cowboy?” Mox asks as he hovers near Emery, taunting her as he mentions her friends; he walks away, circling the ring as he continued,” Where is that goofy ass looking Don Callis? Where are they? I’ll tell ya where they are. They’re still at the hospital!”

Claudio pressed his boot into Brandon’s face as Yuta kicked at him. Brandon tried covering up to protect himself, but he couldn’t. Yuta keeps attacking as Mox and Claudio stand side by side and look out at the crowd.

“They got glass jaws. Glass brains. Glass egos. They’re a bunch of bickering little babies. That’s not Elite. This right here--- we put the Elite in All Elite Wrestling.” Mox threw the microphone down onto the floor, turning around to continue the beat down on Brandon until a piece of familiar music flows through the arena.

At the sound of ‘Battle Cry’ the crowd cheers loudly, but the once soothing music doesn’t seem to register in Emery as she continues pulling at her wrists, blood slowly beginning to surface on her skin from the strain. Kenny stalked out onto the middle of the stage wearing light-wash denim blue jeans and his sneakers. His shirt had been abandoned somewhere backstage—when he had found a monitor and saw what BCC had done to his Angel. The anger was evident on his face—tonight, he was not playing around. Mox and Claudio had their attention on him as Yuta and Bryan continued kicking at Brandon.

Kenny pointed at the ring as he began to stalk down the ramp, stopping halfway and gesturing for them to bring it. As much as he wanted to look at Emery, he didn’t—if he did, his resolve would falter, and he’d want to go to her. Right now, he needed to focus on BCC.

Mox shrugs, telling Claudio, “I’ll do it,” as he exited the ring and sat down on the apron, mouthing off to Kenny.

From behind Emery, Matt, and Nick sneak out from the crowd, but it’s like she doesn’t see them. When they notice her state of mind, both brothers become extremely worried—and very pissed off. They slide into the ring behind an unsuspecting Claudio, Yuta, and Bryan. They turn around to see what the crowd was on about, only for Yuta and Bryan to get taken out by stereo superkicks. Claudio charges them but is met with a double superkick; with them causing a distraction, Kenny jumps Mox, who had his back turned, throwing punches at him. Kenny rolls Mox into the ring as he and the Young Bucks all team up on Mox. Matt and Nick are kicking while Kenny continues punching away at him.

Matt takes a moment and walks over to Brandon, who leaned in a corner against a turnbuckle, blood trickling down his face. Nick looks to the corner opposite of them at Emery and goes to walk towards her, only to be stopped by Kenny.

“You know how she is when she gets like this, she’ll only fight you—just wait… a little longer…” Kenny frowned, hating the idea himself. Nick gave him a hard nod, understanding and regrettably agreeing with his friend before grabbing one of Mox’s arms. Matt rejoined them and grabbed Mox’s other arm with his good hand, and performed a V-Trigger as Kenny climbed out of the ring. His blue eyes landed on Emery, and for a split second, he hesitated.

His heart was yelling at him to go to her, to help her—but he knew he couldn’t. It would only do more harm to her in her current state of mind. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Kenny looked under the ring as Claudio jumped up onto the apron. Nick quickly pushed him off as Kenny grabbed the large black toolbox that Bryan had opened to get the duct tape, closing the lid and sliding it into the ring.

Matt and Nick stood to the side as Mox used the ropes to slowly haul himself back to his feet, watching Kenny pick the toolbox up. Using both hands, Kenny’s features darkened, and he began to run at Mox with the toolbox as a weapon but stopped short as Matt stepped in his way.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Matt told him, holding a hand out. Kenny slumped back, a frown on his face as Mox gave a smirk, thinking Matt was helping him. Matt’s eyes slipped past Kenny, landing on Emery, before he looked away, blinking. Mox took the moment to kneel down, watching and waiting to see what would happen.

The eldest Buck reached into his pocket and, with an expressionless face, pulled out a screwdriver, holding it in Kenny’s direction. Nick pointed at it as he looked at Kenny, talking to him and encouraging him, while Mox began running his mouth.

“No--- No---” Mox shook his head, a bit of fear in his eyes as he realized what was coming. Kenny slowly stepped forward and delicately took the screwdriver from Matt’s hand, looking at it for a minute as the Bucks turned to Mox and delivered some stomps, knocking him back into the corner.

Mox spat in Matt’s direction, leaning on the ropes as he edged them on, “C’Mon!”

Kenny held the tool in his hand like a murderer with a knife as he stared down Mox; the determination was in his eyes as he listened to the muffled screams of Emery. She was beginning to tire, her energy waning quickly as blood dripped down her arms and onto the floor.

“Oh, I’ll come on,” Kenny told him before charging full speed at Mox. Claudio and Bryan quickly grabbed onto their friend, pulling him out of the ring just in time as Kenny reached the corner. The screwdriver plunged into the top turnbuckle—exactly where Mox’s head had just been—and it stuck. Quickly, BCC hopped the divider and slowly began exiting through the crowd. Nick climbed onto the ropes, looking out at them as Matt and Kenny stood behind him, watching for a minute. Kenny noticed the noise coming from Emery had disappeared and looked over his shoulder. He could see her body beginning to sway and quickly rolled under the bottom rope, hurrying over to her.

“My poor Angel baby,” Kenny murmured, reaching up and gently prying the tape off of her face. She groaned from soreness and how tired she felt, her eyes briefly flickering open to see Kenny standing there.

“I’m right here, my Angel. Rest now…” he told her, and instantly, her whole body slumped. Kenny had been prepared and instantly caught her, supporting her body with his. Matt and Nick quickly joined them outside the ring, occasionally glancing in the direction that BCC had disappeared.

“Nick, grab that toolbox—let’s see if there are some bolt cutters in it,” Matt said to his brother, who gave him a nod and slid into the ring. Luckily, there was a cutter in the bottom compartment, and Nick hurried back; carefully, with Matt’s help, he cut the rope apart, and it fell to the floor below them.

“Think there’s some keys back there for these?” Nick asked as Matt assisted him, holding the short chain of the handcuffs so Nick could cut them as well.

“Should be,” Kenny nodded, leaning down and placing a hand behind Emery’s knees as he lifted her up into his arms.

“Let’s hurry up and get her backstage to a doc. I haven’t seen her like this in years,” Matt said as they hurried around the ring and up the ramp. Kenny kept quiet and stone-faced as they walked through the back towards medical, seething on the inside.

Blackpool Combat Club would pay dearly for this. He didn’t care what it took and how much it might hurt him in the end—but Kenny would not let them get away with hurting his Angel like this.

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mikaharuka · 1 year

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🍇🍒🍑

Heyo - thanks for the ask! Nice little trifecta here :)

[🍇 - Share a scene where your character gets angry or upset]

[From Sapphire Precipice, Apricity Ch 12]

“Mike? Hello?”

A hand waved in front of his face, bringing Mike back to the moment.

“Ah yes. Rosalie also said that-”

“Wait.” Beau narrowed his eyes at Mike. “What were you thinking about just now? And don’t say ‘nothing’. Because I know something had your attention just now.”

Ah… well, shit. This was awkward.

Beau continued a bit sharply. “You have this subtle, far-off but focused look when your mind runs off. It’s hard to spot, but I noticed it after spending the month with you.”

Of course he did. Beau was more observant than most people, with only a slight delay in reaching the conclusions Mike did. If anything, this was inevitable. Mike really should have known better.

“I…” Mike faltered.

“Honestly, given everything that’s happened so far, I doubt you’d faze me much.” Beau’s lips quirked slightly. “I mean, this is me we’re talking about…”

Beau wasn’t wrong - he owed him the truth, considering the situation. Still, he’d have to watch himself closely going forward.

“I…” Mike forced himself to continue. “I didn’t plan on hiding anything. I didn’t want to, really. It’s just that things kind of got out of hand, and somehow…”

Beau’s face softened slightly. “I get it, dude - trust me, I really do. But at this point, we need everything on the table to make the most of today’s trip, right?”

Of course he was right. Mike sighed and resolved himself.

[🍒 - Share a scene where a character succeeds at something]

[From Midnight Freefall, Apricity Ch 14]

“Michael, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine - I was just thinking about the wall and how it appeared out of nowhere.”

“I see… close your eyes. It should help you control that wall.”

Help him control it? But how? Sensing his confusion, the doctor continued.

“The wall, your color vision, and the sensations you mentioned earlier are all powered by shakti , by mystic energy inside you. Controlling the flow of shakti will allow you to manipulate, summon, or dispel that wall. Before you can do that, however, you will first need to identify the flow patterns within you. Closing your eyes might help with that.”

Mike closed his eyes and quieted his mind, already having an idea of what to look for.

A pulse, the pool of energy- shakti in his chest, a current through his left arm and out the hand, the stone in his right hand propelling a second current through his right arm. As Mike traced the engraved patterns along the edge of the stone, the tangled web of flows began to unravel, revealing a loose clump of sapphire threads that were deeply intertwined with the larger currents running through his arms.

Those threads were the flows… but what did it take to control them? Pulling at the strings? Directing them somewhere else? Simply willing them to move? Mike zeroed in on the threads exiting the palm and willed them to return to his core. He also visualized himself pulling the threads away. Though there was the mild resistance at first, the web finished unraveling and migrated to his center, forming what felt like a ball of yarn.

This had to be it. He just knew it.

“You gained control rather quickly. Impressive.”

Mike looked down at his hands, then back up at the space where the wall stood just moments earlier. There was no trace of sapphire lingering in the real world - but the change went well beyond that. When the colors first appeared a month ago, Mike had to handle not just the random flashes of color, but also the shadows and traces of color that lined the edges of his peripheral vision, in the downtime between flashes.

But now? For the first time in more than a month, Mike could finally see the world as it was - as he had seen it for most of his life, without even the slightest hint of color.

And now he finally knew why.

[🍑 - Share a scene where two (or more!) characters work together]

[From Sapphire Precipice, Apricity Ch 12]

“Wow. That’s… something.”

One hour later, Beau looked down at the ripped pieces of scrap paper, open textbooks and notebooks, and colorful sticky notes decorating the table in front of them.

“Yeah… that’s a lot,” Mike confirmed.

It really was. There was way more information than Mike had originally hoped to find. Given the limited time they had, Mike left validating the twins' account in Beau's hands and focused elsewhere. Of course, the first thing he’d done was dive straight into supernatural history and society - and anything that was connected. Though many things weren’t explicitly spelled out, there were mentions of influential ‘families’, important regions said to be imbued with intrinsic power, and a list of general phenomena. What really caught his eye, though, was a small chapter covering special symbols - and as expected, the Celtic Diamond was listed there, as one representing an ‘influential family’s power’. Of course, Mike also scoured the books for the vampire conclusion - and though that wasn’t spelled out explicitly, it seemed promising enough.

“Let’s go over these notes more closely when we get back to Forks. For now, we can say that the legends the twins told you were true, though limited in perspective.” Beau nodded as Mike continued on. “Magic is real and vampires are almost certainly real. Though we don’t have explicit evidence of the latter, there’s a lot of circumstantial hints suggesting as much. I took pictures of relevant sections to go over later, but we can also email Cybele if something comes up that we’re unsure of.”

“Sounds good. We should get going to Mystique soon - we only have a few hours left before we have to meet up with the others.”

After putting away their notebooks and pens, and stacking the books for Cybele to sort through later, the pair left the bookstore-slash-library ten minutes later, and found themselves getting off the closest streetcar station thirty minutes later. Unfortunately, it would still take them about a thirty-minute walk to get to their final destination, but the pair went along with it, throwing theories and random bits of information they came across at each other as they passed by various storefronts.

“I was curious about the ‘major conflict’ from 2000 years ago, and came across something interesting - in regular human history, of all places,” Beau explained.

“That’s not too surprising - the twins mentioned human history and supernatural history being intertwined, especially in the mid-1800s,” Mike said.

“Yeah, that’s true. Anyways, in the first century CE, most non-local conflicts centered on the Roman Empire and the Han Dynasty, and their various conquests. The British Isles, Jerusalem, the other kingdoms of modern-day China and Southeast Asia…”

“Did any one of those stand out to you?” Mike asked.

“Yes, just around the turn of the second century, in 101 and 102 CE. Emperor Trajan’s conquest of Dacia, to be exact. You see-”

“Hold on,” Mike interrupted.

What was that? There was something odd, but this time it didn’t feel neutral. It felt…

“Follow me. I’ll explain later.”

#my ask games #my excerpts #mizuka answers #ask game #wip ask game #mizuka's ask games #winter light excerpts #my writing

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hb-writes · 3 years

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Gestures of Fairness

Summary: Set in 1927 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Thomas Shelby isn’t ticklish, at least that’s what a few decades of Clara’s intel says. Charles and Clara test the theory of his god-like ability to remain stoic in the face of writhing fingers.

Inspired by this request: I am not sure if you would write this but I thought of something pretty adorable. Clara finding Tommy’s ticklish spot. Ugh. I can just imagine how adorable 🤣🤣🤣

Featuring: Tommy, Charles, and Clara (Shelby sister)

Charles’s breath tickled Clara’s ear and neck, his small hands clasped around her neck as he told her his secrets, warm puffs of air accompanying his confiding words. Their ragged breathing, interspersed with bouts of snickering, had filled the walls of Tommy’s office for only a few minutes, Charlie having chased his aunt there before they both tumbled to the carpets, immersed in a tickling struggle so immersive not even Tommy’s more irritable of glances or throat clearing could bring a stop to it.

“But daddy’s not ticklish, Charlie,” Clara offered, her voice a bit hushed though not quite a whisper as she looked into her nephew's mischievous eyes.

She rested her head back into the carpet, tilting her head to see her brother as her nephew rolled away from where he had landed half on top of her, reclining beside her on his back.

Tommy glanced their way for only a moment now, acknowledging their presence but offering nothing more now that they'd settled. He was in the middle of something, always was, and despite his throat clearing and glaring, Tommy hadn’t sent them out, so Clara stayed there with her nephew, the two of them lounging on the carpet.

“Every single person in this family is ticklish,” she continued, reaching under Charles’s chin as he giggled, quickly catching her hand and pushing her away. “But not your dad, as if he’s a god or something, safe from the disparaging attacks that bring mere mortals like you and me to our knees.”

Charles tilted his head back as Clara had done, looking at his father upside down from the carpet.

Charles turned back to his aunt and whispered the words, “But he’s not a god.”

Clara snorted and observed her brother again, certain Tommy heard them though he no longer seemed to be paying their conversation any mind.

The boy was right. Thomas Shelby, despite all the pretenses, despite the power and the glares and the titles, was not a god. But, mythical deity or not, Tommy was seemingly impervious to tickles and had not a single weak spot, a feat of seemingly divine providence considering how the rest of them fared in the same situation, and his unaffected guise certainly wasn’t from a lack of a search on the part of the other parties involved.

Though for many years it was only Finn and Clara receiving tickles, the twins began reciprocating the attack quite early on, their pudgy toddler hands squirming in the same spots the other Shelbys used on them, in the crook of the neck and under the chin, at the sides of the torso, and deep in the underarms or across a sock-clad foot whenever they could gain access to it.

John was the first one Finn and Clara had any genuine luck with, the spot under his chin so sensitive that even their imprecise attacks brought on a bout of genuine laughter, the man entirely compelled to it while the others were simply amused by the babies and their often inexact attempts.

Then came Ada’s demise, the twins pouncing on her together one morning while she enjoyed a late lie-in. They’d found Ada’s most ticklish spots without delay, just behind her knees, and for a long time, it took a true partnership between Finn and Clara in order to make it happen, both bodies needed to hold Ada’s thrashing body down well enough.

It was the soles of Arthur’s feet that were his downfall, as well as the very reason why he almost never slipped his shoes off when he was at the family home on Watery Lane, but Clara had caught him twice since he moved out to the country, his sock-clad feet propped on an ottoman as he napped in a chair, starting a ruckus that had everyone but Linda in a fit of giggles, though she’d at least smiled at them, pulling Billy up and out of harm’s way, the harm being the two siblings tousling on the floor as Arthur sought out retribution for his sister's childlike crimes.

They got Polly once, Finn’s hands grazing at the back of the woman's neck, but she’d threatened the two of them so severely and with such striking detail of what would be coming their way at a second attempt that they never even considered trying it again.

Even Michael was ticklish, in the very same spot as his mother, actually, and before he was gone to America, Clara never tired of passing a set of cold fingers along the back of her cousin’s neck while she walked behind his desk or when he was focused on a bit of paperwork they were going through together. There was something so delightful about the shriek that came through his lips, well worth the smack that usually accompanied it, a reflexive movement of Michael’s that usually left her hand stinging well beyond the humor of the moment subsided.

Tommy’s weak spot was an enigma though because for several years he had been quite adamant that he wasn’t ticklish at all and quite adept at hiding any sort of response if he was lying. It always had been that way for as long as Clara could remember, even before the war, Tommy being passive and stoic in the face of tickles. Even Polly and Charlie and Arthur couldn’t recall if there was ever a spot where they’d even once been able to get a giggle or the hint of a smile out of him when he was small.

Clara turned over to her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, watching her nephew as he crossed the room and climbed into his father’s lap, separating Tommy from his papers.

“Auntie Clara says you’re not ticklish.”

Tommy smirked, eyebrows raised as he met his sister’s eye from across the room.

For two children who screamed and thrashed about when they were tickled, it baffled Tommy how often they engaged in the practice amongst themselves or broached the topic with people who could easily have them writhing on the floor within seconds. He supposed Clara and Charles didn’t hate it as much as they sometimes put on, even enjoying it up until a certain point so long as it stopped when requested.

“Your aunt would be correct," Tommy answered, settling back in the chair.

“But everyone’s ticklish, Dad.”

Charles had never met a person who didn’t share the affliction, though his exposure was limited to that of his family and the staff of Arrow House, but Clara hadn’t met a person with immunity to such a thing in her life either, so the sentiment held as far as she was concerned.

“Not me,” Tommy answered. “Your aunt and uncle have tried unsuccessfully for almost two decades.”

“Can I try?”

Clara pushed herself off the floor at Tommy’s nod, a bit impressed with the allowance. She’d figured over the years that Charles had a higher probability of getting a yes out of her brother, and she’d used that to her advantage the same way her siblings had once used her, sending Charles off to garner Tommy's permission for something whenever he was sullen rather than asking after things herself, almost certain the boy could get a yes when she’d get a no.

“Three attempts, my boy, and then you can take your aunt out and keep her out of trouble for me until dinner, eh?”

Clara rolled her eyes, leaning against the side of Tommy’s desk, just a pace or so away from them. “Why only allow him three if you’re not ticklish?”

“Because I have business,” Tommy answered, nodding towards the papers scattered across his desk.

“Always with the business," Clara mused. "Always frowning at your paperwork all Sunday afternoon.”

“That’s why we need to find where he’s ticklish, so he can laugh.”

Clara snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrow raising just a bit. “Well said, Charlie.”

Tommy looked about to say something but Charles jabbed his hand into the space beneath Tommy’s chin, the spot most obvious to the boy since it had always worked for him and his Aunt Clara and Uncle John, but Tommy barely responded to the intrusion, his body almost entirely still as Charles continued his assault, the boy’s hand finally dropping with a huff after a second endeavor in the same spot.

Charles then poked his fingers into Tommy’s stomach, another unsuccessful experimentation, a bewildered hum coming from Charles’s lips before the boy reached out again, this time his fingers barely grazing the side of his father’s ribs before Tommy trapped the small hand in his.

“You’ve already had three.”

Clara narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to them. “You’re cheating, Tommy.”

“How am I cheating?”

“Because he—”

“I only had two tries!” Charles shouted before Clara could get the words out herself.

“You went twice under the chin and once in the stomach,” Tommy answered in an even tone. "One and two is three."

“That’s not fair!” Charles pouted.

“Life often isn’t. Best to learn that now,” Tommy said as he slid Charles from his lap to the floor. “A good lesson to you both.”

Clara knew well enough the world wasn’t fair, knew well enough that her brother wasn’t often very fair either, but her young nephew had no need of coming to expect that type of unfairness in life, and certainly not at such a young age.

“Maybe the world isn’t always fair, but family should be,” Clara said. “You’re cheating your own son, Thomas.”

Clara saw it, she knew she did, a small tremble in Tommy’s cheek when Charles’s fingers grazed his ribs. The rest of him had stayed still, immersed in perfunctory indifference to his son’s pursuit, but Clara saw the twitch. Without the distance, without her being a casual observer, she never would have noticed such a small movement, the well-disciplined facade of her brother almost concealing it.

Tommy wasn't sure which part of her sentence he wanted to go for first. The accusation or the 'Thomas,' but in his deliberation, Clara filled the silence herself.

“And me,” she offered. “You’re ticklish. I saw.”

Clara stepped in front of her nephew. “He touched you right—”

Tommy grasped her outstretched hand. “Enough.”

Clara pouted as she pulled her hand back. “You’re no fun.”

“I have calls to—”

The twitch was more pronounced when Clara dug her fingers into his side, the hint of a smile there on Tommy’s face as he jolted, some small noise merging a laugh and a throat clearing coming from his lips. But the moment was gone almost as quickly as it had come on because Tommy caught her, his hand firm around her wrist.

Clara recognized the message. To anyone else, it might have read as an adult telling a child they had reached their limit and were edging towards trouble, or as a gangster threatening a subordinate to fall back in line, but grasping the wrist was precisely the same gesture of fairness Clara and Charles adopted between the two of them, an irrefutable request to stop, a removal of consent for a game no longer being enjoyed, and Clara understood that her long-pretending brother was indeed ticklish, but unlike her and Charles and the others, not even a small part of him enjoyed it.

Clara smiled at her brother though his hand still held her wrist, the tightness of his grasp uncomfortable enough she wasn't eager for it to continue for long. Though a part of Clara was giddy at finally solving over a decade's long riddle and more than a bit entranced by the idea of an encore, she’d not discredit the nearly sacrosanct vow indicated by the gesture she and Charles had developed, and she would not reinforce for the boy that he should expect the world and his family to be cruel and dishonorable at every turn.

“Alright, Tommy. Peace, then,” Clara offered.

“But—”

Clara glanced down at her protesting nephew, nodding towards the wrist the boy's father was still holding, Tommy's fingers slipping off Clara's wrist only as she turned to Charles and continued speaking.

“Your dad’s asked us to stop, Charlie boy. He’s got calls to do before he joins us for dinner, eh Tommy?”

Charles moved around Clara and leaned into Tommy's knee, distracted from his aunt's lesson by the notion of his father joining them for dinner. “Are you joining us, Dad?”

It seemed fair by Clara’s standards, that her brother should grant them that small concession since he was prematurely stopping their fun, and Tommy stared at his sister for only a short moment before nodding at the boy. “You best go on and let Frances know to set an extra place.”

Charles sprinted off to find the woman, leaving Clara and Tommy smiling in his wake.

“Clara, it’d be best for you to—”

“Forget I’ve finally found where you’re ticklish?” she asked, smirking as she stepped back from him. “Of course. Can’t have word getting out Thomas Shelby, OBE is a mere human like the rest of us.”

“I mean it, Clara.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “I know, Tommy. I’ll keep it to myself.”

Tommy took a breath, nodding once before he looked back to the papers on his desk.

“Right, so you’re back to paperwork and calls and frowning, then?” Clara asked.

“If you and my boy are demanding my presence at dinner, then, yes.”

Clara smiled. She’d leave him to it, and she’d not tell anyone her brother was ticklish, not even Finn as tempting as that was, but she’d not forget. She’d store the information away, kept safe until needed, until Tommy needed a subtle gesture to remind him of what it felt like to be on the receiving end of family not being fair.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

🏷:

@beautycinders @buckybluebarnes (can’t tag) @cecii22me @lovemissyhoneybee @marquelapage @midnight-dreams-23 @mo-onstarrs @ohhersheybars @pollyrepents @unicorndetective22 (can’t tag)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby!sister #shelby sister #tommy shelby #charlie shelby #clara shelby #little lady blinder

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 21

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

What the hell....

Blinking slowly, the wolfsbane finally leaving my system. And I was not where I had been before. I was back at the Hale house in Derek’s bed. I pushed up on my wobbly arms and slowly slid out of the bed, stumbling to the hall and trying to find whoever did this to me-

Heart beat. It was strong, but there was a slight skip, bad heart. It couldn’t have been the Argents or else they would have taken me to the Argent’s. I slowly walked to the stairs, looking over the landing and down into the living room.

“Yes, sir, I have located Miss (Y/L/N).” That voice. That damn cocky voice. It was him.

Michael. That sly son of a bitch was alive. Why was it that all the psychos in Beacon Hills were coming back to life?

“Uh... Good evening.” He was looking up at me with those grey eyes of his. I knew them well. I had seen them so many times before, through good times and bad. And these were the worst times, weren’t they? Those grey eyes widened when I shifted. I jumped down from the top of the stairs, landing on my feet. He backed up a few steps, a nervous smile on his face.

“Ah... I see you’ve finally shifted. And you’re an alpha. Congrats.” He chuckled nervously, “I know you’re probably wondering ‘how is he alive? Right? Well it’s a very interesting story.”

“I don’t care.” I growled.

“L-Look, I can explain everything. Please.” He licked his lips, “Let’s talk.” If my heart wasn’t beating hard then it was now. All of my fear had turned to rage. He was here and alive. And he was a weak human man. And I’ll be damned if I let him get out of here alive. Not after what he’s done.

My roar was loud and long, enough to make him cover his ears. His heart was beating rapidly and he smelled of fear.

"Ok, um, how about we tussle a little, would that make you feel better?"

"I’m gonna rip your throat out with my teeth.”

His eyes widened, "Ah, well, uh, we can't do that, ya see, I'm... I’m supposed to be taking you to Scotland.” He was my guide? To take me to the Lunar Circle? I don’t think so.

I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall. His back slammed against the wall, the same area that Peter had fallen through. He moaned in pain, struggling to sit up. I stalked closer, grabbing his shirt and roaring into his face. He was terrified and rightly so. I am a powerful werewolf alpha and I want him to be scared, to instill the fear he put in me by kidnapping me. The fear of death.

"(Y/N), please, listen to me, this is all a misunderstanding!" He pleaded. I pinned him down to the ground.

"Misunderstanding?" I spat, "You murdered my family! You tried to kill me!” I opened my mouth wide, rearing my head back to strike.

"PETER! IT WAS PETER!" His words made me pause, my fangs grazing the skin of his jugular. I pulled away from his neck, causing him to breathe a little easier.

“Start talking before I change my mind.” My grip tightened on his wrists that were pinned on either side of his head.

“I’m a part of the Lunar Circle. My family were hunters but I wanted out. You parents got me involved. I was a double agent. Until.” He swallowed thickly, “Until, a few years ago when Peter started using his influence to get into my mind. He wanted me to use my connection to the hunters to bring Kate Argent out of hiding and... Your parents became collateral damage.”

“Why would Peter do that?” I growled. It did sound like something Peter would do, but I couldn’t trust his word.

“Why wouldn’t Peter do that? He’s a total psychopath that wants mass hysteria.” He panted,��“You believe that, don’t you?” Dammit, he’s right. I stood up, grabbing Michael by the collar and dragging him across the room. I shoved him to sit down in an empty chair.

"You're going to tell me everything.”

“O-Okay. Well, uh where do you want me to start?”

“The Lunar Circle.”

Michael let out a small laugh, probably in relief, “They, well, they’re a society based in Scotland meant to create a network of werewolves in communication. To keep families and clans protected from hunters and other things.”

“Other things?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’ll get to those later. Anyway, I was assigned to your clan to keep them and, most importantly you, safe. Originally in two-thousand-four.”

2004

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He grinned. I looked him up and down, shaking his hand with my thumb and pointer finger instead of my whole hand.

After a long day of training with Talia and Laura, I walked through the front door. My parents were in the kitchen, talking seriously with someone, he looked around my age. He had dark hair and grey eyes. Average looking, seemingly ordinary.

”What’s going on in here?” I dropped my gym bag on the counter.

“This is Michael. He’s a representative from the Lunar Circle.” Dad said, patting the boy on the back. Michael stepped forward, holding his hand out.

Mom shook her head and laughed a little, “Well, yes, but he’s going to go into your school and watch out for you there.”

“Isn’t he a little young to be a representative?” I stepped around him, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

“Why? Dad has an agreement with the Argents.” I said before taking several long gulps of water.

“(Y/N), you can never be too careful.” Dad said seriously. His tone made her lower the bottle from her lips.

“How come the Hales don’t have a representative?”

“They didn’t want to join the circle. Talia thinks she can handle herself.” Her mother said, washing dishes in the sink. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“She can handle herself. Even with werewolves,” I looked at Michael, “It’s a man’s world, and women fight tooth and nail to get to the top.”

Dad smiled in a way that told me to straighten out my attitude, “Just humor me.”

I closed my eyes, blinking away the vision. My memories were coming back. But how? Maybe because he was here, he knew everything, it was jogging my memory.

“Tell me about the Hales.”

“Well,” He leaned back in the chair, “I know that they had an agreement with your parents, a treaty if you will. But they had to give up their alpha status. Alphas bring attention, sometimes it’s the bad kind. They gave their alpha sparks to you, thinking you would never turn.”

Tossing and turning, in and out of sleep. My parents had been on edge all day after a meeting with Talia. This would be a night that my parents told me I had dreamed about. They thought I had been asleep, but I was awake.

“Don’t wake her. This is going to hurt her, I can’t look at her when I hurt her.” Mom’s voice quivered, “(Y/D/N), do we really have to do this? Maybe if we talk to Talia-”

“(Y/M/N), we are drawing too much attention as it is being a two alpha pack in a town where there is already a large clan.” He said, “My agreement with Chris is strictly with him. I can’t say the same for the rest of them. The Hales are a powerful ally. This needs to happen now.”

“But what if she turns?”

“She won’t. We made sure that her change would be delayed.”

“Her dose a wolfsbane keeps going up. Her tolerance is going up. I don’t want to kill her by accident.”

“Well... There’s always the Wolf Eclipse...”

“No.” Mom said hurriedly, “I don’t know how that would affect her memories. She would forget Derek, he’s her best friend.”

“She has Stiles.”

“I love Stiles. you know that. But Talia would be furious.”

Dad sighed, “I’m tired of running. I want to raise her here. We have a home, friends. Plus... with Stiles’ mother being sick... it’s only a matter of time before the pain we take from her gets to be too much. It would kill Noah and Stiles to take (Y/N) away too.” He grunted, “Now. On the count of three.”

“One.... Two.... three.” A sharp pain stabbed into both my hips, pulling a shrill scream from my throat.

I held my head, all the new memories were pushing at a barrier inside of my head.

“What else?” I said, looking towards him as I paced back and forth in front of him.

“They tried to arrange a marriage between you and Derek.”

Derek and I couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, spying on our parents in another one of their serious meetings. They sat at the kitchen table, Talia with a devilish smile on her face. Her husband besides her, he was mostly a silent figure.

“(Y/D/N), (Y/M/N), I’m sure you know what this is about.”

“No, Talia.” Dad said, “Peter’s invitation was... vague.”

Talia chuckled, “My brother does have a touch for the dramatic.” She hummed, “You and I both know that your clan has diminished with (Y/N) as your only heir.” We were a small clan but I never realized that we were all that was left. Derek looked at me out of the corner of his eye, putting a hand on my back. We continued to listen in.

“We’re aware.” Dad said grimly.

Talia leaned forward, “Then I would like to propose... A proposal.” She tapped her fingers on the table, “Your daughter to be arranged with my son. In the event that anything happens to my daughters, (Y/N) would become the matriarch.” She smiled fondly, “Derek and (Y/N) already share a bond, why delay the inevitable?” Derek and I shared a glance. Us? Get married? Gross.

“No.” Dad shook his head, “Our daughter should choose her life partner.”

“Her mate?” Talia asked.

“An outdated term.” Mom chimed in.

“Hmmm.” Is all Talia replied with.

“What. Else?” I said between gritted teeth, leaning my head against the wall.

“Before the treaty, Talia tried to sneak you into their clan for you to train since your parents had no interest in training you to fight. She tried once when you were young, that’s when the treaty started.”

I was six, sliding down the big green swirly slide at the playground, at the bottom was Peter Hale. He caught me in his arms. He was twenty then.

“Well hello there.” He smiled.

“Hi Peter!” I opened my mouth wide, “Look, I lost a tooth!” I pointed to the gap in my teeth where my canine had been.

“Well, well, well, look at that. Making room for your big bad wolf teeth to come in.” He growled and snapped his teeth. I giggled and shook my head.

“My mommy says that I should have turned by now, I think I’m a dud.”

“Now I don’t think that’s true.” He set me down on my feet, “But I do know that a lost tooth means we have to celebrate.” He leaned down, “How about we go get some ice cream?” I looked around the playground, seeing my mother reading a book on a nearby bench.

“But mommy says I can’t go in a car with anybody but Uncle Noah and Aunt Claudia.”

“Your mommy knows me. Besides, we’ll only be a minute. Trust me.” He held out his hand. As a small child, there are only a few things in life that make you disobey your parents: the promise of a new toy and ice cream. I took Peter’s hand and we walked towards the diner in town.

Once at the diner, Peter sat me down in a tall booth at the bar. The man behind the counter looked us over.

“What can I get for ya?” He asked gruffly.

Peter looked down at me, “How about a hot fudge sundae with two cherries.” I squealed in my seat, swinging my legs wildly. My body couldn’t sit still at the thought of an ice cream sundae.

Soon the sundae was placed in front of me with a large spoon. I gripped the spoon tightly, awkwardly getting a large scoop and placing it in my mouth.

“Did your mommy and daddy tell you that you were a dud?” Peter asked, grabbing a cherry off the sundae by its stem.

“No, I overheard them talking with Miss Talia.”

“Did you?” He hummed.

I nodded, talking around another spoonful, “I’m not gonna turn.” I swallowed, “I would have shown signs by now.”

“Well that doesn’t mean you can’t get the bite.”

“Peter.” A deep voice made us both turn. Standing there was Chris Argent. Daddy and him had an agreement about something. It was adult stuff.

“Argent.” Peter said back.

Chris looked down at me, “Hi (Y/N).”

“Hi Mister Argent!” I grinned, a ring of ice cream around my mouth. Chris smiled, reaching onto the counter and wiping my mouth with a napkin.

“There you go. Your daddy called me to take you home.”

“I’m taking her home.” Peter said with a strained smile.

“Well, I’m already here.” Chris lifted me off the stool and took me by the hand.

Chris brought me home to my parents who were incredibly worried. Maybe Peter wasn’t someone that her parents trusted.

“After that your parents realized that Talia wasn’t going to take no for an answer when it came to training you.” Michael said, resting his arms on his legs. His feet was shaking. He was still holding something back. But I didn’t know if I could handle any more memories. My brain was already fried as it was. But how could I just stop remembering... One more memory... Then the dam would break.

I rubbed my temples, “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“(Y/N), removing the block on your memories like this isn’t safe.”

“I don’t care.” I snapped, flashing my eyes at him, “My whole life was taken from me. Now tell me!”

“Okay.” He sat up, holding his hands up in surrender, “Okay.” He lowered his arms slowly and sighed, “They put the Wolf Eclipse spell on you after the Hale house fire...” He looked up at me through his lashes, “Because you were there.”

All of my pacing and other nervous movements stopped at this revelation.

I licked my lips, “I was there?”

“The night of the fire, you were there.” That’s what broke it, the dam in my brain. I shouted as searing heat spread through my head. Leaning against the wall for support, I squeezed my eyes shut.

2006

I stormed through my house, stomping up the stairs to my room. My parents had picked me up from school instead of letting me stay after for Derek’s basketball game. I had plans with Laura and Derek to go to their house and train afterwards. But no such luck. My parents wanted me to stay home and they didn’t want me training with the Hales anymore.

“This isn’t fair!” I shouted at the top of the stairs, looking down at my parents, “Talia says I have the right to train with them just like any other werewolf can!”

“It’s too dangerous now to train with Laura and Derek, they don’t hold back.” Mom held her hands together, “Look what happened to your arm.” I looked down at my arm. There were thick bandages from Deaton that hid the wounds from Derek’s claws from the rest of the world. It had put me on the bench from lacrosse, but that’s what happened sometimes.

“It was an accident.” I said, “Derek didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Yeah?” Dad put his hands on his hips, “Well, this’ll hurt. You’re grounded. You go to school, you go to practice, you do your homework and that’s it.”

I scoffed, “You can’t do this! I have to train so I can defend myself for when I turn-”

“You’re not going to turn, (Y/N)!” Dad shouted, his eyes were stern and dark, “You would have turned already and I refuse to continue this conversation. Go to your room. Now!” Tears burned at my eyes as I glared down at them. Letting out a little sob, I ran from the steps and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I leaned against the door, sliding down it as I cried.

They knew how insecure and odd I felt about being the last of our clan and a human. It felt like I had failed my ancestors. I wouldn’t be able to carry on our legacy. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how they treated Derek. Paige was dying and the only way to end her pain was killing her, it wasn’t his fault that this was deemed as killing an innocent person by the natural laws of lycanthropy. He was my friend, he had been through enough.

The car starting made my head perk up. I ran to the window in time to see my mom and dad pulling out of the driveway. Probably a meeting with Michael about the stupid Lunar Circle. But since they’re gone....

I opened the window, carefully jumping to the roof that covered the first floor, then using the bushes to break my fall to get to the ground. Now it was just a matter of walking to school... Or I could meet Derek and Laura at their house after the game. That was better and less likely to cause me to pass out.

I knocked on the door of the elaborate manor and waited. It was getting dark out. Hopefully, Derek’s game would end soon. Talia opened the door, a beautiful smile gracing her face.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected. But not unwelcome.”

“My parents grounded me from training.” I said, realizing I was very much going to be in trouble if they found out, “But I want to fight.”

Talia nodded, “Of course.” She ushered me inside, closing the door behind us, “I’m happy you came, I was just on my way out to see you.”

“You were?” I looked up at her as she led me through the house and into the kitchen.

“I was. I wanted to discuss your future.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a pitcher of water. She motioned to it, I nodded, she poured a glass and handed it to me.

“My future? Like... College?”

“No, my dear.” She chuckled, “While education is important, I had something else in mind.” It was around the time I noticed Cora, sitting at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“You know that we love you, the whole family thinks of you as one of our own.” She came around the counter, “And I think you have the ability to become an amazing alpha someday. So my offer is this: I give you the bite and you join my pack. I know how you feel being the only human in your pack.” Getting the bite seemed like a no brainer. Maybe I just needed it to get my juices flowing.

“What about my parents?” I asked, setting my water down on the counter.

“They could join us too. One pack, all together.”

I wasn’t sure how my parents would react to assimilating packs. The Lunar Circle certainly wouldn’t like it.

“Could I have the day to think about it?” I said after a while.

“Of course.” She smiled, “Take as long as you-” Glass breaking cut her off and the flames caused her to back away from the kitchen window. Talia grabbed the pitcher of water from the counter and threw it on the flames. But they only spread. More and more windows breaking, more and more flames. From the next room, Peter ran in through a cloud of smoke.

“Talia, they’re setting the house on fire.” Peter said, coughing. Talia looked down at the basement. Flames spread rapidly through the house. The fire was already traveling down the stairs from above.

“Get them out.” Talia shouted, running towards the basement. Peter led both of us towards the front door and opened it. A glass bottle was thrown at us, hitting Peter in the face. His skin was ignited by the Molotov cocktail. He screamed, trying to put out the fire but it only spread on his clothes. Cora and I screamed, taking off in separate directions. As I ran I heard her scream again. I should have gone back, but I was afraid. I just ran all the way home. And when I got there, the danger hadn’t ended. My parents were out in the lawn, seeing the smoke.

“Mom! Dad!” I called, I stopped just short of them, panting heavily, “Hunters are attacking the Hale, you have to help them.” Evidently, they didn’t understand the urgency of the situation. I grabbed my mom’s hand and tugged, “Come on! They need our help!” The next thing I knew, the world went black.

When I woke up I was on my bed, candles gave the room a warm glow. I saw my mom sitting in a chair beside my bed, my dad was putting what looked like hair into a glass bottle. My hair.

“Hey... What is this?” I tried to sit up, but saw that my arms had been tied to my sides. I looked at my mom, eyes wide, “Mom?” Her lips were pressed tight together and trembling. She was crying.

“We’re sorry, sweetie. But we had no other choice.” She whispered. I looked at my dad, seeing that he had a spell book in his hands. It was an old family book dating back a few hundred years. What spell could they be-

It hit me. The Wolf Eclipse spell. They were going to take away all of my memories. Once my dad sealed the jar and said the incantation, I would lose everything. I would lose Derek. I can’t.

“No! NO!” I screamed as dad poured hot wax over the cork top of the glass bottle, “NO PLEASE! I promise I’ll never sneak out again!” Tears started pouring down my cheeks. Dad started the incantation.

“DAD! DAD DON’T DO THIS!” I looked at my mom who was avoiding looking anywhere near me, “MOM!” I could feel it, like a drain of energy. I was losing memories already, precious moments where the Hale family that were gone forever.

“NO!” I screamed, my fate sealed with the blowing out of a candle and a few words of Latin.

So, they were back, everything I forgot was back. And Michael was able to get me there. That dick. Everything still hurts though: my head, my body.

Michael stood up slowly, closing the distance between us, “Hey are you alright?” He asked before the door was kicked open. Derek stood in the doorway, huffing. He was covered in blood and looked like he wanted to shed more. His eyes flashed to red when he saw Michael in the room. He roared loudly.

Michael sighed, “Not again.” With inhuman speed, Derek pounced on Michael, his claws catching Michael’s cheek. Michael shouted. I ran over, grabbing Derek by the shoulders.

“Derek, stop!” He looked back at me, angry and confused.

“What?!”

I let out a shaky breath and cupped his hairy cheeks, “I remember.” I said softly. His werewolf features slowly morphed away, leaning the face I loved. He looked on in wonder, like seeing a meteor shower for the first time.

“You remember?” He whispered. I nodded slowly, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. He grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair.

The next day was made for decisions. Michael had gone to a hotel near the airport and probably to be as far away from Derek as possible. It took a while but eventually Derek understood. That night had been... eventful to keep it PG. We both needed it honestly. The night as we slept in his bed, loud howling woke us up.

“What was that?” I said, very much awake. Derek sat up, looking towards the window.

“They’re coming.”

I parked at the high school after I saw Stiles’ Jeep parked there as I was driving towards the Stilinski’s. Derek said I needed to talk to Uncle Noah and I had to agree. Especially if I decided to go to Scotland. But I probably wouldn’t, not with the new threat of an alpha pack. He said he would meet with me tonight to talk.

Scott and Stiles were on the field, Scott in goal while Stiles was shooting pearls.

“Now, remember-- no wolf powers.” Stiles said, positioning himself.

“Got it.”

“No, I meant it! No super-fast reflexes, no super-eyesight, no hearing-- none of that crap, okay?”

“Okay. Come on!”

“You promise?”

“Would you just take the shot already?” Scott shouted. Stiles took a few steps forward, shooting the pearl. Scott caught it with ease.

“I said NO WOLF POWERS!” Stiles shouted.

“You don’t need wolf powers to know that was a bad shot.” I smiled as I walked towards them. They both looked over at me. Scott seemed a little surprised, Stiles didn’t really meet my eyes.

“Hey, what happened to you last night?” Scott asked, coming out of the goal to meet me in the field.

“Long story. But Derek filled me in. Y’all fought the kanima, you killed Gerard, Jackson is a normal werewolf. Win win.” I looked over at Stiles, then Scott, “Can you give us a minute?” Needing a few seconds to figure out what I had said, Scott nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” Scott walked over to where they left their lacrosse bags. I walked to stand in front of Stiles.

“I was just kidding, by the way. That was a great shot.” I smiled.

“You should have seen the game I played. I actually made us win.” He said with no emotion. He was pissed at me and so was I. I missed the first game he’s ever played and I should have been there.

“I know, I should have seen it.” I tinkered with my locket, snapping it open and closed again, “I’m sorry.”

“It was to protect him, wasn’t it?”

“They were going to kill him, Stiles. If I had gone, they would have taken me to get to him. And odds are I would be in a shallow grave somewhere.” He didn’t seem to care much, “Come on, would you please look at me?”

He looked up at her and sighed, “I understand. I know that you really care about him. And if things weren’t as crazy, you would be around more.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I glanced back at Scott, “I’m heading home right now. Gonna talk with your dad. I’ll see you for dinner?”

A small smile, better than nothing, “Sounds good.” I softly punched his shoulder.

“Go to his left side.” I whispered, “Make him work for it.” I winked, walking back to the car. Now was the hard part, talking to Uncle Noah.

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

Read part 22 here!

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And there is the ended for season 2 in the canon and the end of the second “book” of the series. Will I get back to writing my other series soon? We’ll see.

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

29 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 31

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: we’re going back to y/n’s 18th. so sorry for the 2 day delay. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N felt dizzy whenever she was surrounded by too many people, it almost felt unsafe, as if people could hurt her better if she was surrounded by others. After all, it was a sea of people with extensive knowledge in hurting someone or making them disappear without ever being known and despite living in that environment, she had a paranoid unconscious fear of being in the middle of so many people belonging to the mob, specially higher up members.

She had managed to find herself a spot in the thousand of chairs speckled around the room, watching from afar as Gwen dazzled everyone in her new Ted Baker baby pink dress meanwhile Y/N was dressed in her high school dress uniform, not really having many dresses in her wardrobe that would suit the event or that would suit her. She continued with her nose stuck in her favourite book, her brain filtering out the loud partying sounds and focusing only on the sharp words of her pages. She would’ve continued this way had it not been for a strong coughing that came close to her. Y/N lowered her book to find the source landing on a man dressed like dandy, probably in his mid 60s, holding himself up on a dark walking stick and coughing onto a monogrammed handkerchief.

- Would you like to sit? - Y/N called out for his attention, immediately getting up from the chair.

- Please, darling, don’t bother. - he replied in an accent Y/N could maybe pin point to France or maybe Belgium. Nevertheless, she moved the chair closer to where he was, a small smile on her lips. - Are you sure you don’t want to sit?

- I have good legs, I can stand. - Y/N leaned against the wall, hand gesturing towards the chair.

- What’s your name? - he questioned as he took a seat on the cushioned chair, too tired to argue with the girl telling him to sit down. She was probably right, he probably should.

- Y/N.

- Michael. I’m Genevieve’s grandfather. Mother’s side.

- I’m Genevieve’s handmaid ... Or at least in training, Daniel says my true test will come up when we go to university.

- I’m assuming you got into Cambridge too then. - he admitted and Y/N nodded, very proud of her perfect scores and the letter that had come with the mail just a few days ago. - What are you taking?

- English Literature.

- My daughter used to love to read. Would devour a whole library if she could. French, English, German, Greek ... languages didn’t really stop her.

- It must be hard for you. - his eyes seemed to focus on her eyes hidden by some mascara she had put on for the ceremony but still couldn’t completely hide the sheer beauty they seemed to hold. - Are you alright?

- Yes, you just have some very familiar eyes. It’s uncanny.

- I just got told that today. - she played with her hair, a shy smile on her berry painted lips. - They’re not very remarkable really.

- They’re remarkable enough.

To say she had spent the rest of whatever was left of the morning in the bathroom either throwing up or urinating and whenever she wasn’t in the bathroom seemingly detoxing from whatever she had consumed last night which hadn’t sat well with her, she was exhausted, sleeping in her bed and swearing to herself never to eat anything from this hotel ever again.

She swore she didn’t remember seeing anyone this sick ever since Dan’s girlfriend became pregnant. Pregnant. That thought hit her like a freight train and as quickly as she had laid down to rest, she bolted from her bed and into her suitcase, reaching for her necessaire which showed her a full pack of pads. She was certain she had gotten the pack right after her last period which she was sure had been in November. She bite on her nails, getting up, eyes glued to the pack wishing that once she blinked it would be half empty.

Shivering, she rushed over to her door, opening it to see if Elias was around and luckily he was. She was probably overreacting, she convinced herself, yet it was better to be safe than sorry.

- Are you alright, miss? - he questioned, noticing her uncharacteristic unresting look which seemed to haunt all her features.

- We need to go to a pharmacy. - she almost whispered the last word, afraid someone would connect the dots despite the pharmacy having several other things which would cater towards her. - The furthest pharmacy you know. Outside the Upper East Side.

- That wouldn’t be safe, miss.

- Please.

The bodyguard could do little to nothing to convince the young woman to stay within the city. Instead of fighting with her, both of them just got inside the car and started to drive as far away from the watchful gaze of the Upper East. Her mind was going over her biology lessons. Nausea could be related to anything such as food poisoning, flu, migraines and so on. It was probably just food poisoning or maybe a very very bad case of PMS. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but panic as she saw the safe environment of the Upper East disappear. Y/N didn’t want anyone to even dream of her buying a pregnancy test and as she reached the furthest pharmacy a car could take her to, she rushed like a bullet to the pregnancy aisle pulling one of every single brand into her shopping trolley. After a few minutes, she had at least 10 in her trolley and after avoiding several dirty looks from the people standing with her in line and the employee serving her, the handmaid returned to the car, clutching to the paper bag like a precious gem.

Once she was back in her hotel suite, she dropped the bag on her bathroom floor, going through several and several tests, placing them away from her gaze as she convinced herself that this could be almost everything other than pregnancy. She wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t be pregnant, she tried to convince herself once more as she looked at the first pregnancy test. Two lines. Well, it could be a faulty test. Another one, two lines and the same pattern applied to all of those following the one/two line system. The other ones all showed the word pregnant and as she read the last one, she could feel whatever resolve and structure she had within her slowly erode.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. Either that or more than twenty tests were giving her false positives which she found it to be not plausible. She slide down her bathroom wall, legs folded as she stared at the wall in front of her. She was pregnant from a soon to be married man. Mr. Williams words rang in her mind, mistress. She was the mistress pregnant with the bastard. At that thought, tears started to cloud her eyes and like a scared child, she hide her face in the middle of her thighs, hoping everything would go away, hoping all her mistakes and lack of judgments were nothing but a really, really bad dream.

- Angel? - she could hear his voice followed by knocking on her door. She cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbing every single stick and stuffing them in one of the bathroom doors. Elias had probably heard her crying and warned Sebastian about it. - Angel? Y/N? Open the door, please.

- I’m going. - Y/N turned on the tap, slapping her face with cold water hoping she would look less like a mess and more presentable. Raising her face to stare into the mirror, she told herself to calm down, she told herself to forget about the tests which were hiding in one of the bathroom drawers. She was fine, she was gonna be fine and as she convinced herself once more that she was fine, another knock took her off her mind.

With a strong will, Y/N gripped the knob of her bathroom, opening the door very slowly. Sebastian was standing behind it, dressed as poshly as he normally did however a bit more relaxed with the jacket being off and his dress shirt first buttons unbuttoned. A tense look seemed to dissipate as she held the door close to her collarbone, not having it fully opened.

- Are you still sick? - his hand raised to rest against her warm cheek, caressing it with her thumb. - Elias said he heard you crying. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?

- I hate hospitals. - she lied, wishing nothing more than to go to the place which would confirm what she already knew. There was a great deal of worry and care in his baby blues, and she found herself avoiding them, afraid she would blurt out she was pregnant. - I’m fine, Sebastian, I really am.

- Okay, angel then look into my eyes and tell me you’re okay. - he picked her chin, softly pulling it up so her eyes looked into his. Even with that, she still managed to dodge his gaze. - Angel, what’s wrong?

- Nothing’s wrong, I’m just ... I’m just stressed. - she smiled tightly, hands moving from his shoulders to his elbows, letting out a breathe that seemed to have been held within her for ages. However, it came out shaky, one that made her want to return to her self wallowing state yet before she could, he had already wrapped his arms around her figure, holding her as if he was his whole entire universe which, in some way, she was. - You really needn’t worry. I’m sure you have other more important things to deal with.

- Wedding preparations will never be more important than you. - he kissed the crown of her head, getting lost in the scent of roses and lilies of her perfume. - Come on, lovely, whatever it is, it can be solved.

- No, I don’t think it can. - she mumbled against his crisp white cotton shirt, wondering if she closed her eyes tightly enough, things would seem to exist and she would wake up from the hell she had started to live in just a few minutes ago.

- Angel ... - he cupped her face. - It’s gonna be okay.

- It’s not. - she could feel her eyes water as her mind rushed through all they could do which was nothing. She was now just another pregnant mistress, the other woman. - It’s really not.

- Listen to me, angel. - he tried to remain calm but his resolve was quickly faltering as he stared at the tear tracks on her bountiful cheeks, so far from her soft and luminous smile. - We’re gonna be okay. Y/N, I ...

- Y/N! - Y/N took a step back, her head turning to the door where Gwen was standing, her gaze more on her phone than the two of them. With a sigh of relief, the handmaid let a small yes slip her lips. - Bridesmaids dress try out, come on. You’re late.

- I’m really sick today, Gwen. Can’t we just postpone it? - Y/N still was unsure if her stomach could hold anything and being forced inside a dress sounded more like modern torture than every other thing she had her do.

- You’re on your feet, clearly not sick enough besides we need to get it done today.

- Gwen, don’t be cruel. - Sebastian added.

- Shouldn’t you be trying your tux? - she fired back, almost like the whole conversation was a script only her had memorised and could now easily manipulate. - Or do you intend to look like a mess on my wedding day.

- Our wedding day. - he corrected which greatly upset Gwen. - I’m sure a few days delay won’t ruin it.

- She’s my handmaid, not yours. - Gwen gave him a sarcastic tight smile, shooting Y/N a look which made her immediately walk to her side. - Your tux better not be loose.

Y/N followed Gwen, head looking down but not before sharing an apologetic look with Sebastian. Instinctively, Y/N placed her hand in on her stomach as the two women walked into Gwen’s bedroom which seemed to have turned into an atelier with several women taking measurements and dressing other women in periwinkle dresses.

An older woman grabbed Y/N, shoving her the same periwinkle dress in her arms, ordering her to try it on. However, as Y/N pulled the zipper past her waist she found it didn’t completely zipped up. Oh no. She tried to bring both parts of the dress together so it would zip up but nothing. Her dress fit everywhere but her bust which was bigger than before.

- What’s wrong? - Gwen noticed Y/N struggling to pull the zipper up. - God, Y/N, I told you not to gain weight.

- It’s just my chest ... probably PMSing. - she lied, of course it wasn’t because she was PMSing. She wished she were, that would mean she had one less problem on her. - It’ll be fine in a week.

- It better be or you’re not attending.

Joke or no joke, she’d rather not attend it.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir @stuffforreferences @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen @nsfwsebbie @strangerliaa @emzd34 @everything-is-awesomesauce @dreams-in-blxck @krismeunicornbaobei

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random-ass-fanboy · 4 years

Text

My Snape playlist:

Here are 40 songs that remind me of Snape, if anyone is interested :)

Feel free to leave song recommendations for this playlist in the comments!

TW/ depressing lyrics and mentions of suicidal ideation.

Paralyzed- NF

"Where are my feelings? I no longer feel things, I know I should. I'm paralyzed. Where is the real me? I'm lost and it kills me inside, I'm paralyzed."

My Immortal- Evanescence

"You used to captivate me, by your resonating light. Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face it haunts, my once pleasant dreams. Your voice it chased away, all the sanity in me."

Horrible Kids- Set It Off

"Picture this he was just a kid, not knowing where to begin. He wore all the wrong clothes, followed all the wrong trends, persecuted for the things he did."

Lifeboat- Heathers the Musical

"Everyone's pushing! Everyone's fighting Storms are approaching, there's nowhere to hide! If I say the wrong thing, or I wear the wrong outfit, they'll throw me right over the side!"

Panic Room- Au/Ra

"The silence is so loud. The lights spark and flicker, with monsters much bigger, than I can control now. Welcome to the panic room, where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you."

Michael in the Bathroom- Be More Chill

"I am hiding, but he's out there, just ignoring all our history. Memories get erased, and I'll get replaced, with a newer cooler version of me."

Worthless- eli.

"I'm always so alone, even when surrounded, by people that I know. I'm always so astounded, by my ability to ruin everything. Losing friends and starting fires, everyone thinks I'm a liar"

Let Me Down Slowly- Alec Benjamin

"Don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste. I once was a man with dignity and grace. Now, I'm slipping through the cracks of your cold embrace. So please, please.."

Waving Through a Window- Dear Evan Hansen

"We start with stars in our eyes. We start believing that we belong. But every sun doesn't rise. And no one tells you where you went wrong"

Broken Again- eli.

"No one knows what it's like putting up a fight, for your life every time, now I'm losing sight. Wish that I had a way to make me feel alive. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

Match in the Rain- Alec Benjamin

"Yeah, I can taste it, it's the end, this love's impossible to save. Though you embrace it, I can't face it, so I look the other way. There's trouble in your eyes, but I pretend that we're okay. I wish that we could compromise, but there's just nothin' left to say."

Snail- Cavetown

"I was just born like this. Wish that I could change it. Four peculiar limbs and a head that doesn't fit. Wish that I was still a kid."

Dissappear- eli.

"Carrying the burdens of the world up on my shoulders. Looking for the answers, maybe I'll know once I'm older. Need some time to recollect myself, please don't forget me. When I disappear next week, I hope you can forgive me."

Teenagers- My Chemial Romance

"The boys and girls in the clique, the awful names that they stick. You're never gonna fit in much, kid. But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt, will make them pay for the things that they did."

Words Fail- Dear Evan Hansen

"No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts. Pretend I'm something other than this mess that I am! 'Cause then I don't have to look at it, and no one gets to look at it! No, no one can really see!"

Untitled- Mxmtoon

"I tend to forget, that I shouldn't fret. People come and then they go. At this point I should know."

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead- Set it Off

"I'm stuck self-torturing, my meds are failing me, internal clock in smithereens. Can't fix this. I'm hopeless. My eyes are stapled open wide, as I lay down on my side. I am bouncing off these walls."

Outrunning Karma- Alec Benjamin

"He's never gonna make it, all the poor people he's forsaken, karma, is always gonna chase him for his lies. It's just a game of waiting from the church steeple down to Satan karma. There's really no escape until he dies."

One Song Glory- RENT

"Find, one song, one last refrain. Glory. From the pretty boy front man, who wasted opportunity. One song, he had the world at his feet. Glory. In the eyes of a young girl, a young girl."

Good For You- Dear Evan Hansen

"All I need is some time to think! But the boat is about to sink. Can't erase what I wrote in ink. Tell me how could you change the story?

All the words that I can't take back, like a train coming off the track. 'Cause the rails and my bones all crack. I've got to find a way to stop it, stop it! Just let me off!"

Teen Idle- MARINA

"Adolescence didn't make sense. A little loss of innocence. The ugliness of being a fool. Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

Dark Paradise- Lana Del Rey

"And there's no remedy for memory. Your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me, that everything is fine. But I wish I was dead!"

Trying- Cavetown

"I'm trying to tear the wool from your eyes. But a part of me wants to let you be. 'Cause then you wouldn't see what I've become. I'm trying to shout, but no sound comes out. It's like we're in a dream state. But I should've woken up, woken up by now."

Wake Me Up When September Ends- Green Day

"Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are."

21 Guns- Green Day

"When you're at the end of the road, and you lost all sense of control. And your thoughts have taken their toll. When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul."

Give Me Novacaine- Green Day

"Take away the sensation inside. Bitter sweet migraine in my head. It's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind. I can't take this feeling anymore."

iRobot- Jon Bellion

"I am a robot, thoughtless and empty. Don't know who sent me, don't know who made me. Electric robot, everything's gray now. Numb to the pain now, I knew what love was."

Another One Of Those Days- Cavetown

"Passed that kid from chemistry, who made fun of my name. He didn't look very happy. I guess we all turn out the same."

Boulevard of Broken Dreams- Green Day

"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. 'Til then I walk alone."

We Don't Have To Dance- Andy Black

"You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy, this is hell, this is hell! You're looking and whispering, you think I'm someone else! This is hell, yes, I am in hell!

Ribcage- Andy Black

"Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Got no heart to break, like it that way. Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

The Run and Go- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't take them on my own, my own. Oh, I'm not the one you know, you know. I have killed a man and all I know, is I am on the run and go."

Fall Away- Twenty One Pilots

"I disguise, and I will lie, and I will take my precious time. As the days spent away, as I stand in line, and I die as I wait, as I wait on my crime. And I'll try to delay what you make of my life, but I don't want your way, I want mine. I'm dying and trying, but believe me I'm fine. But I'm lying, I'm so very far from fine!

Trapdoor- Twenty One Pilots

"He wakes up early today, throws on a mask that will alter his face. Nobody knows his real name, but now he just uses one he saw on a grave. And he pretends he's okay, but you should see, oh. Him in bed late at night, he's petrified."

Sad Song- Christina Perri

"I wish I wasn’t always wrong, I wish it wasn’t always my fault. The finger that you’re pointing has knocked me on my knees. And all you need to know is… I'm so sorry, It’s not like me. It’s maturity that I’m lacking."

Escapism- Steven Universe

"I guess I have to face, that in this awful place, I shouldn't show a trace of doubt. But pulled against the grain. I feel a little pain, that I would rather do without."

Semi-Automatic- Twenty One Pilots

"Night falls with gravity, the earth turns from sanity, taking my only friend I know, he leaves a lot, his name is "Hope". I'm never what I like, I'm double-sided, and I just can't hide, I kind of like it when I make you cry, 'cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside."

Screen- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't see past my own nose, I'm seeing everything in slo-mo. Look out below crashing down to the ground just like a vertical locomotive. That's a train, am I painting the picture that's in my brain? A train from the sky, locomotive, my motives are insane!"

March To The Sea- Twenty One Pilots

"Then the wages of war will start, inside my head with my counterpart. And the emotionless marchers will chant the phrase, 'This line's the only way.' Then I start down the sand, my eyes are focused on the end of land. But again the voice inside my head, says, 'follow me instead.'"

Migraine- Twenty One Pilots

"Freeze frame, please let me paint a mental picture portrait. Something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead, and how it is a door that hold's back contents, that makes Pandora's box contents look non-violent!"

#pro snape #snape fandom #severus snape #pro severus snape

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tazzytypes · 3 years

Text

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 16

Hey guys! So sorry for the delay -- if you follow me on Tumblr, you know that it has been a battle trying to get time to work on this next chapter. Between school and work, the burnout is strong this semester and the senioritis definitely doesn't help. Is it just me or are teachers putting a lot more on our plate than they did last semester? Anyways, here's chapter 17 -- This chapter is shorter than usual, but I hope you enjoy it!

Read more on AO3 or find more chapters on the Masterpost!

Stevie’s voice echoed throughout the salon, the woman standing on the same part the brunette witch had once laid. Emily had yet to decide which was more improbable, Stevie Nicks serenading them or the fact that she had gone to hell and back. She stood on her own in the corner of the room in an attempt to ease her nerves. Having something at her back was reassuring, similar to huddling under your sheets as a child. She wasn’t sure, however, which boogeyman she was hiding from.

They all seemed so unfazed. Hell was but a mid-week grocery run. Stevie singing more akin to listening to your sibling practice for an upcoming recital.

Myrtle, Zoe, and Queenie sat poised in the corner of the room, so still that she might have mistaken them for an oil painting. Cordelia and Madison were similarly stationed on the other side of the room, Madison standing by the staircase and Cordelia standing by the door. Misty sat on her own, directly in front of Stevie with tears brimming in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to see that the woman was obsessed. In fact, it quite surprised Emily that Misty had yet to faint.

Stevie Nicks — The White Witch — sang Gypsy. Emily had heard it a thousand times before in her car, in her room, in supermarkets over the intercom, and she was listening to it yet again. Emily was a witch, she had been to hell, she had fought a demon, found out that her dreams were never really just dreams, and now she was watching Stevie Nicks sing. The fever dream continued and the young witch was just along for the ride.

So still was everything that it was hard not to doubt her own mind. Even the warlocks were perched with bated breath, Behold on the stairs and the others above them. Pennypacker was the only one in motion accompanying the siren that was Stevie fucking Nicks. It was impossible not to stare at her. Still, Emily’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker up to the new Supreme. Blue eyes met hers before flicking away. Michael’s expression was firm and stoic. Her friends back home would have called it “resting bitch face,” but she felt there was more to that expression. However, Emily didn’t know him enough to quite define what.

He had been quiet since Cordelia awoke — not that he was particularly chatty to start with. Michael and Ariel were perched above them on the balcony. The Chancellor’s gloating had yet to clear from his face, his eyes flickering to Cordelia again and again. The former Supreme did not indulge him, keeping her eyes firmly set on Misty as if she might disappear. They must have been close, Emily concluded, for her to look like that.

“I knew you for such a short time, but I have missed you forever,” Cordelia had said. It almost made Emily feel bad for doubting the headmistress — almost.

Emily looked around the salon and grabbed a glass of wine. She doubted anyone would comment on her underage drinking. It was the least she deserved after the day’s events.

The distorted voice of a thousand tongues still rang in her ears and her desire for answers burned her with every breath. Grabbing a second glass, she gave into the fire. Her feet were light as she made her way towards the stairs. No one noticed her leave… all except one.

Michael’s gaze was nothing short of sharp, but there was something else to them. She had seen it in hell, reflected a thousand times over in the mirrors that lined the halls of purgatory. It only flashed across his face for but a moment, but she had seen it clear as day.

Michael Langdon was afraid.

Even now, his back to her as she came to the top of the stairs, she could feel that fear. It was anxious and tense, always on alert. The kind that kept you from everyone and everything. It was a fear Emily was all too accustomed to.

“It’s hardly fair,” She spoke, Michael turning only slightly towards her in acknowledgment of her presence. Holding out one of the glasses, Emily came to rest beside him. Stevie continued to sing and the others continued to watch, unaware of their conversation or pretending it wasn’t happening. “This should be for you. Celebrating your success. They usurped your victory with a victory of their own.”

Michael accepted the glass of wine, nursing it in his hand as he leaned on the railing. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last celebration we’ll have. No offense to you witches, but I’d much prefer something with my fellow warlocks.”

He watched her carefully. What had his father meant? A gift? He was supposed to wipe out the witches, not join hands and sing kumbaya. Her eyes focused on him but quickly flitted away back towards the revelry.

Emily shrugged. It was a fair point. She assumed celebrating with strangers wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

“Still,” she said, doing her best to pretend she couldn’t feel his eyes on her, “Enraging, isn’t it… or, at the very least, frustrating.”

“How did Cordelia find you again?” he asked.

Emily pretended not to notice his once-over. Ignoring the question told the young witch all she needed to know. She chuckled and shook her head. “Someone left an anonymous tip. Apparently, there’s a hotline or something… 1-800-is-this-a-witch.”

Michael smiled, a lopsided expression more to signify that he heard her than out of actual enjoyment. Emily’s hazel eyes once again flickered away from his and to the floor before gazing out at Stevie once more. Michael followed her gaze and they rested in a brief, comfortable silence.

“You should be more careful about who you stare at,” She said, so low that the boy-wonder barely heard her speak. Her eyes flickered back to him, the light of the fire accenting a ring of gold around her pupil. “and who sees you doing it. Especially in a crowded cafeteria.”

Zoe had told her about the tip, naturally. It had been one of the many things that ran through the brunette’s brain since she arrived at the academy. A normal person wouldn’t have a good enough sense of witchcraft. Hell, Emily hadn’t even heard about Robichaux before her sudden transfer. Thus, the only logical conclusion was that the anonymous tip was also a witch… or a warlock.

Emily would be lying if she said that the look on Michael’s face didn’t amuse her. She hadn’t been sure at first, but now there was no doubt. Names were something she had always been bad with, but faces? Faces she always remembered. Especially when they were pointed out by a friend as, “that boy who keeps looking at you.”

Michael’s lips twisted and his brows furrowed, his eyes immediately going to survey the witches below. They remained unmoving; eyes fixated on the performance. No one's gaze flickered upward. There were no poorly concealed whispering.

“Do they know?” He noted.

“No.”

Michael finally turned to look at her fully. Either she had something up her sleeve or had yet to learn of the safety that came with dishonesty.

“Why?”

Emily thought for a moment. It was a good question. The coven had been nothing but kind, but something in her gut twisted whenever she thought about baring all her thoughts out to them. She wanted to call it intuition, but it wasn’t as if she could ask Cordelia or even Zoe to confirm that particular assumption.

“They’re very opinionated,” She finally decided,” Everyone is. I need to come to my own conclusion.”

“And what is the question you are trying to answer?”

“What game you’re playing,” she said, surprised when the thoughts spilled past her lips. It was the wine, she imagined. “It’s akin to chess, but I can’t quite place the name of it.”

Michael simply smiled, a detached and unemotional expression. “Maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but for now… congratulations.”

Once again, her words made him pause. She was the first to congratulate him… even among his fellow warlocks. He quickly spoke to hide his surprise.

“To surviving hell,” he said, holding his glass out for a toast. Emily cautiously clinked her glass against his own, the action just as hesitant as when she had taken his hand.

“Did you know,” She spoke again after taking a sip and trying to hide the grimace the bitter drink provoked, “historians speculate that toasts were once used to check for poison?”

“Last I checked you brought the wine, not me.” Michael said, “unless this is a confession to attempted murder.”

Emily looked at him for a moment as her mind comprehended what had just happened, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Michael felt almost proud of the result.

“No, that’s not—” She let out a sigh and pinched her brow, “I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I just got back from literal hell. My nickname in high-school was Satan, but that was just a joke.”

Michael laughed. A genuine laugh, not just the ones you did to fill the awkward silence. He tried to hide the expression, but his lips couldn’t help but twist into a small smile.

“Think of it this way,” he said, leaning a bit towards her as they continued to talk, “you’re prepared for the day your time comes.”

“That’s hardly reassuring.”

She took another drink, not bothering to hide her expression of distaste. Emily leaned back on the railing so that she was facing the stairs as if she were expecting someone to sneak upon them. Looking over her shoulder, she stared at her new Supreme and waited for his rebuttal.

“They all have the power to escape their hell,” he said, looking back at the festivities below, “they just choose not to.”

Emily’s brow furrowed, “How do you know that?”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

A silence lapsed between them, both observing the people around them. On this balcony, everything felt so detached. They were but spectators in their own lives, barely retaining control.

“Hell’s personalized, yeah?” Emily finally noted. Michael didn’t look at her, but she could feel his eyes boring into her. He was probably annoyed with her, but for once she couldn’t bring herself to care. “What do think your hell would be?”

“What would yours?”

“I have a few ideas.” The brunette’s lips twisted a bit, a purple hue now forming on them from the wine. “The never-ending hall was close.”

“What was that about, anyway?” Michael found himself asking before he could think. “You said it was purgatory.”

She could only sigh, her eyes bugging a bit as she tried to think. How crazy was crazy? She didn’t even have a basis for comparison anymore. Better yet, how did she even begin to answer?

“I had a dream once. There was a never-ending hall filled with beings that hadn’t been human for so long that they now looked more like shadows. I had to walk down that hall with a basket of… something.” Emily explained. The glassy fog seemed to appear for a moment in her eyes, but she quickly shook it away. “I’d rather dissect a frog for eternity.”

“You have a surprising lack of sympathy for a witch.”

“I don’t know whether I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. Emily mirrored his expression for a moment, but it quickly fell as her eyes settled on the stairwell. She must have only been in that hellish void for a moment, but it felt like she had been writhing in it for eternity — screaming bloody murder for someone to save her. The shadows of this place taunted her, a predator that could consume her at any moment. Sleep was not going to come easy that night.

“Pain is relative and so seems is hell,” She said, voice detached and distant once more. The change made Michael perk up, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “She was in pain… I will be in pain. I am simply jealous of the outlet in which that pain comes in.”

“Envy is surprising as well.”

Emily smiled, wry and humorless. “What can I say? We can’t all be perfect.”

Michael didn’t respond to that, his eyes narrowing onto movement below them. He couldn’t see Cordelia from this position, but he could see Madison. The witch looked back with a confused expression as if someone had thrown something at her back. Her eyes flickered back to Stevie for a moment before she took a few steps back and disappeared out of his view.

Emily followed his gaze, seeing the tail end of Madison disappearing below them. “What do you think they’re plotting?”

“You don’t trust your own kind,” Michael said. A statement. Not a question. Emily simply shrugged.

“I’ve known this world for two months,” She said, “I don’t trust anyone.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” She agreed with a crooked grin, “Though I suppose not leaving me there in hell earned you a few points in the right direction.”

“Witches zero, warlocks one.”

Emily made a face, lips curling and head cocking in contemplation.

“You’re about an even tie at this point.” She said.

Once again, the silence consumed them. They had gotten used to it, she presumed. Emily wondered how time worked in hell - things had certainly felt like an eternity. It was enough time to make her feel different, somehow. Her eyes flickered to Michael as he stared into the distance. That was a better question for Cordelia, she presumed.

With a sigh she turned back towards Stevie, allowing herself to be serenaded once more. The song came to an end and they watched as Misty shot up and began clapping. Stevie smiled at her and held out a hand which the woman gratefully took, practically skipping towards the singer.

“You think she’d let me take a photo with her?” Emily asked. Michael gave her a befuddled look, brows knitted and nose scrunching. She didn’t notice the look at first, too focused on the scene below them. When she turned, her face immediately mirrored the boy-wonder’s.

“It’s Stevie fucking Nicks,” she said, tone defensive, “My mom was a huge fan of hers.”

Michael simply rolled her eyes and Emily scoff at his ignorance. Bringing her glass to her lips, she tilted her head back and downed the rest of it. She grimaced and shook her head before placing the glass on a nearby table.

“Come on,” she said, nudging his arm a bit and making her way towards the stairs, “you should get one, too. Hang it in your office when you become Supreme.”

Michael turned around to look at her. “You really have no idea of how things work, do you?”

“A month ago, magic was a distant dream of childhood,” Emily spoke, giving him a pointed look and gesturing to the room around her, “I’m in the midst of a train wreck which is my reality.”

That was enough to make Michael chuckle.

“You’re quite the poet.”

Emily could only laugh at that, rolling her eyes for good measure, “Whatever you say, Mr. Supreme.”

The girl’s change of personality was enough to give one whiplash. She had been so timid before they performed Descensum, barely able to meet his eye and cautious as a mouse. Then again, the drinking probably had something to do with it. Michael wondered what she saw in those few moments she had been alone in hell.

Emily waited expectantly. With a sigh, Michael gave in to her demands. Behold looked to them as they descended the stairs. He had seen the brunette pass him on the way up. The suspicion he had before was still evident in the way he looked at her, but now it was accompanied by a hint of surprise. Witches and Warlocks were natural enemies, after all.

Misty’s back was to them as they approached, the only thing visible of the woman being her curly hair and flowery shawl. She and Stevie seemed to be in a serious conversation. Everyone seemed to be in serious conversation, talking to one another in hushed whispers.

Michael followed after Emily, hands behind his back. He regarded the room, eyes scanning over the occupants as their eyes flickered towards him. It would be harder to sneak around now given his new position. He’d have to adapt. Sparing a look back towards the balcony, he found Cordelia settled into her corner of the room once more. Madison was nowhere to be seen. Whatever conversation they had concluded. His expression soured ever slightly. Emily must have been a diversion.

“Excuse me,” the brunette witch spoke. Stevie Nick’s presence seemed to have sobered her somewhat, timid nature returning. Michael turned his gaze back towards her, feeling the eyes upon them. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could we get a picture with you? My mother is a huge fan — practically grew up with your songs as lullabies.”

Misty was beaming, whatever conversation she had with the White Witch obviously going well. She bit her lip as Emily came to stop beside her as if it was the only way to keep herself from spilling every last detail.

“Anything for a fellow witch,” Stevie said happily. Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Misty happily took it from her as Michel awkwardly stood to the side. With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced to his shoes then back up to the balcony. Ariel smiled at him and rose his glass. Michael offered a strained smile in turn.

His attention was pulled away by movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he found Misty waving him over.

“Your turn, Mr. Supreme!”

Michael could only sigh at the nickname but still walked towards Stevie with a strained smile. He was stiff next to the woman, something that seemed to amuse Emily.

“Congratulations on the promotion,” Stevie said as Misty directed them into place, her eyes focused on the camera, “Descensum is a dangerous spell. The last time I visited this coven, it didn’t end well.”

Misty turned to Emily as she took the photo, showing the results to the brunette who smiled and thanked the woman. Michael pulled away from Stevie, the forced smile quickly leaving his face and into something more amicable. Misty showed him his pictures and he just offered a smile and nod before the woman handed the phone back to Emily.

“Where are my manners,” Misty said with an awkward chuckle, motioning to Stevie as she realized the awkward silence building up, “This is Stevie, of course. And Stevie this is—”

Misty paused for a second as she looked to Emily, “Well I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Emily,” The brunette introduced, holding out a hand to Stevie, “I’m new.”

The musician smiled and took Emily’s hand.

“You have a musician’s fingers,” Stevie noted.

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Can’t lie to me, child. Not only am I familiar with these things, I’m a witch as well. What do you play?”

“Only a few things,” Emily admitted, pulling her hands away and allowing them to settle at her side.

“What was your first?”

“Violin,” she said, “tried piano, but couldn’t quite catch on.”

“You’ve certainly fiddled with the devil today,” Stevie noted, turning to smile briefly at her biggest fan, “You were one of the ones who saved our Misty, weren’t you?”

Emily glanced towards the boy-wonder before returning to the woman, “Actually, I was just an unintended side-effect. Michael did all of the work.”

The brunette stood back towards the man as if to guide Stevie’s eyes, biting her lips and looking to him in apology. His eyes flickered from Emily to the other two women, noting their hesitation.

“In that case,” Stevie said, ignoring the way Misty looked between herself and the new Supreme, “Thank you very much. You have done a great deed for this coven. Misty is one of the most powerful witches I know.”

Her tone was cool and icy. Emily couldn’t help watch the two as the tension was drawn between them. It was as if the witches knew something she didn’t. It was infuriating.

“The pleasure is mine,” Michael said, articulate and direct as if he were giving a speech instead of a conversation. The whole interaction felt like a bravado, an act. “Such is the job of the Supreme.”

Emily was pulled away from the conversation as Misty linked their arms together. “So, you’re a fan of Stevie?”

The brunette allowed herself to be distracted, “Not as avid as you — or so I’ve been told.”

“Oh she’s—” Misty said. Her eyes darted once more to Stevie, then Michael, then back to Emily. She squeezed the brunette’s arm for emphasis. “you know how some songs just make you feel like dancin’? That’s Stevie for me.”

Another glance was given towards Michael, Misty’s ever-present smile faltering for just a moment.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked.

“I’ll be better once I see the sun,” Misty said, pulling her shawl tighter around her, “Anything’s better than this damn candlelight.”

“If I stay down here any longer, I may just go blind,” Emily agreed, doing her best to be reassuring. She tapped the rim of her glasses with her free hand. “Not that my sight was great to begin with.”

Misty smiled at her and squeezed her arm once more.

“So where did Miss Cordelia find you?”

“Georgia.”

“You’re used to the humidity, then.”

Emily nodded, “Too familiar. You from Louisiana?”

“Born and raised,” Misty sang, “Spent most of my life living off the grid in the swamp.”

“Is it more peaceful?”

Misty smiled awkwardly and gave a nod towards Michael and Stevie. The pair were still talking, Stevie leaning back ever slightly and Michael standing with his hands behind his back.

“Certainly has less politics,” The swamp-witch said, earning a small smile from Emily. The two lapsed into silence. Emily was quickly overwhelmed by the sounds around her, head turning a bit to break free of the crackling fire and roar of whispers in every corner of the room.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Misty spoke, pulling Emily from the chaos, “What was your hell like? I’m assumin’ it's different from everyone. I mean, there was a boy in my chemistry class that seemed to enjoy… well, you know.”

“Do they have dissections in chemistry?”

“He was an avid learner.” Misty said, “or, at least, that’s what his parents called it.”

If the horror of childbirth wasn’t enough to dissuade Emily from having kids, Misty’s comment was enough for her to swear them off entirely.

“It’s all a blur, honestly,” she said, returning to Misty’s question, “All I remember is a door by the River Styx then—”

“Styx?” Misty asked, nose crinkling and brows knitting. Emily opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a boisterous voice from above.

“I believe this would be a good time to make a toast,” Ariel spoke from above them, clearly enjoying the control he had over the room, “In celebration of old friends and new…”

Emily found her mind wandering as the man spoke. Misty hadn’t known what she spoke of. Was it because of descensum? No, it couldn’t be. From the bits and pieces she had been able to collect from her fellow witches, Misty had lost her life performing the same task they did.

Hazel eyes flickered back to Michael only to find him staring at her in turn. Emily didn’t know how to feel about that look in her eyes. She had seen fear, but that was the most dangerous expression a person could wear. It meant they would do anything to get themselves out of a corner. Michael was a snake sizing her up. Was she a threat or his next meal?

Madison awoke in the night to muttering. In all honesty, she hadn’t had the chance to fall asleep in the first place. While she wore the title of “cold bitch” with pride, the fact that Cordelia looked to her for such a monumental task was suspicious at best. Well, she was a powerful witch — powerful enough for Fiona to think she was supreme.

Her hand went to her neck instinctively. The swamp-bitch’s shit was enough to remove all signs of trauma, but some days Madison swore the gaping wound was still there. Being strangled to death the second time probably didn’t help the fact. Neck-related trauma seemed to be her shit.

With a sigh, Madison tossed and turned, throwing her sleep mask off the side of the bed. This place was darker than fucking night, anyways.

She had just settled back to sleep when the muttering came again.

“Can you can it, Persephone?” Madison snapped, “Some of us want some fucking beauty sleep.”

“Finis venit,” she heard again, somewhat slurred and groggy, “Ante infinitium.”

“Look, Satan,” Madison snipped once more, pulling her phone off the bedside table and turning on the flashlight, “Go the fuck to sleep before I shove my foot up your—”

Madison wasn’t scared by much. She had been to hell where she worked in customer service and given a hand-job to Harvey Weinstein. However, when the light landed upon her temporary roommate, she was, at the very least, startled.

Emily was almost going full exorcist. Sitting straight up from the blankets in which she had made her bed, her eyes stared lifelessly ahead.

“Fenis venit,” she said again, a drunken-like slurring to her voice, “Ante infinitium.”

Then she fell back and resumed snoring.

“Fucking freak,” Madison scoffed, turning off the light and pulling the covers up.

She should have roomed with Zoe.

“How’d you sleep?” Zoe asked Emily as they all stood outside the academy. Two bodyguards packed their things into the car and Emily could only shift from foot to foot as she watched them.

The younger witch’s eyes flickered between the bodyguards and her mentor. Why did they need bodyguards, anyways? “Fine.”

“With Madison?” Queenie said, letting out an incredulous laugh on Emily’s left, “yeah right. She had you sleep on the floor, didn’t she?”

Emily’s eyes flickered to the ground and her lips pursed together.

“… Maybe.”

“Girl, you went to fucking hell, but you’re going to let a blonde bimbo push you around?”

“It kind of worked out,” Emily said, “She snores.”

Madison, only a few feet away from the trio, scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. Queenie could feel the starlet’s eyes boring into her back.

“How loud?”

Emily’s eyes flickered back to Madison whose nostrils were flaring as she glowered. She expected the look to silence the girl.

“Like a bear.”

Queenie laughed and even Zoe couldn’t help but snort. Madison crossed her arms and huffed, stomping her heel into the ground in protest. She looked like that dog in 101 Dalmatians — the one in the beginning with its snout in the air pompously.

“At least you don’t have to share a room with her,” Zoe said, leaning in close but not bothering to lower her voice, “Did the earplugs help?”

“Very.”

“Whatever,” Madison snapped, “at least I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“And?” Emily said, finally turning to look at the woman, “that’s quiet… and amusing, if you think about it.”

Madison’s eyes narrowed and she took a few steps towards her. Emily sighed as she recognized the signs of a square-up, the woman coming until she was barely a foot away from the brunette.

“You know they have a saying about bears and sticks,” Madison said.

Zoe took a step towards the two, “C’mon Madison. Can’t you just chill for like five seconds?”

“That you should wave one around at a black bear, but not a brown bear?” Emily asked, crossing her arms and ignoring Zoe entirely, “Really important distinction, I’ve heard.”

Madison frowned and narrowed her eyes. The next thing Emily knew, the end of her skirt was on fire.

“What the hell, Madison!” Zoe yelled, quickly moving to perform a counter-spell. However, as soon as she began to cast it, the fire was gone. Emily hadn’t moved an inch, her eyes still firmly set on Madison. She didn’t… she couldn’t… could she?

“Consider it a lesson,” Madison said, crossing her arms and smiling smugly.

“In what,” Zoe exclaimed, “bitch-craft?”

Myrtle’s voice silenced any further retorts, coming to stand with the group with Cordelia at her side. “Can we wait to start the petty squabbles once we get out of this damnable place?”

“Whatever,” Madison said, clipping Emily’s shoulder as she pushed her way towards the car, “I call shotgun.”

Cordelia spared a glance at the other three witches and they followed Madison’s lead obediently. Zoe squeezed Emily’s shoulder as she passed, offering a reassuring smile.

“How are you feeling?” Cordelia asked once the women were out of earshot.

Emily didn’t have a snappy response for that one.

“Different,” she finally decided after a few moments of consideration.

Cordelia patted her cheek. Her eyes were sad as if she knew what the girl had gone through. Emily didn’t like when people presumed things like that.

“The pain will fade.”

“It’s not the pain I worry about.”

“Then what is?” Cordelia asked, brows furrowing.

“The fact that everything made sense there.”

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shout from the car.

“Come on, Delia,” Myrtle called, “The plane takes off in two hours.”

Smiling and nodding, Cordelia squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “We’ll talk more later.”

The brunette had barely a moment to think before she felt a weight over her shoulder. Jumping a bit, she turned to find that Misty had swung an arm around her. The girl was all grins, constantly looking up to the sky and spinning around as if she were dancing from the second they stepped outside.

“Don’t worry too much about Madison,” She said as the two sauntered towards the car, “She’s always mean.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wonder what her hell was.”

“Retail,” Emily said, “or so she said. Kind of generic, don’t you think? Then again, generic would probably be an insult to her. Irony, I guess.”

Misty laughed, “I like you. You’re funny.”

The ride to the airport was eventful. While all the girls were tired and ready to go home, a playfulness emerged from their delirium. Cordelia sat near the front of the car, talking in hushed whispers to Myrtle as the rest of them held an avid debate in the backseats. She would glance back at her girls now and again via the rear-view mirror.

“You should really get that checked out,” Emily said, turning back to the starlet, “Snoring is usually a sign of breathing problems.”

Stationed at the center of the car, the newest addition to her family seemed to be blooming. Cordelia had never heard the girl speak so much. She had worried, naturally, the effects hell would have on the girl's psyche. However, her instincts had been right. Giving the girl something to conquer had done Emily some good and revealed more of the magic in her bones.

Madison huffed. “I don’t snore.”

“Like sleep apnea or something?” Zoe asked, clearly reveling in any conversation that pissed off her former roommate.

“Kind of,” Emily said, “when you snore it's because air can’t get through your air passages properly and causes the surrounding tissue to vibrate… or floppy airways.”

“Hey, Madison,” Queenie shouted between chuckles, looking back to the tiny back seat the starlet had been shoved into, “You got floppy airways!”

“At least I don’t have floppy skin.” Madison snapped before grumbling, “Will probably live longer, too.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Actually, the belief that weight is correlated with health is inaccurate,” Emily said, “Correlation does not equal causation. Also, haven’t you died three times already?”

“Here’s a question for you,” Madison said, “Do you know how to mind your business?”

“Depends — Do you know how to not be a bitch?”

Queenie let out a barking laugh. Misty giggled a bit as well, leaning into Emily with a smile.

“Almost always,” She whispered to the brunette.

“What did you say, swamp rat?” Madison demanded, taking off her sunglasses just to glower at the pair. She much preferred it when Emily was nearly mute.

“Girls,” Cordelia finally sang, feeling a headache coming on, “can we please save the bickering for when we get back to the academy?”

“Sorry, Miss Cordelia,” Misty quickly apologized, shrinking in her seat.

Madison was anything but apologetic. “Emily started it!”

“Like hell I did!”

“Girls!” Cordelia exclaimed, the whole car falling into a tense silence. If not for the gentle rumble of the engine, one could hear a pin drop. The silence was quickly interrupted by a nearby car slamming into their horn.

“Still quieter than Madison’s snoring,” Emily muttered quietly, a chuckle leaving Cordelia despite herself. Looking in the rear-view mirror, Cordelia watched as Misty leaned into the brunette and whispered something in her ear. Emily smiled and whispered something back, Madison loudly scoffing in response.

She made the right choice, letting Emily into the academy. Still, something the girl had said was stuck on repeat in her head, “…everything made sense there.” Misty had said the girl had used powers in hell. Emily had told the headmistress of her dreams, but Cordelia had also been to hell. It was no dream, not in the slightest. It was real as anything.

Cordelia’s eyes flickered to the back seat, watching her girls. She couldn’t help but wonder if Michael was the one truly rising or if fate had a different future in mind.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon

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pixiegrl · 3 years

Note

Also I would really love to read "I won't make it home for Christmas" with Lashton please and thank you, love you 💜

Amanda! Darling Amanda! I originally had another idea and then we were talking about soulmate AUs and this uh. Turned into that. I hope you enjoy it! For the holidays!

on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205598

I won’t make it home for Christmas. The line has been tattooed onto Luke’s hip since his 13th birthday when he got his soulmark. He’d been giddy when he’d first gotten it, excited to have something so unique as the first thing his soulmate will say to him. The older he’s gotten, though, the less the tattoo has made sense. After all, why would that be the first thing his one true love would say to him? How can you tell someone you won’t spend Christmas with them as the first thing you’re supposed to say?

No matter how much Luke wants to find his soulmate, wants to meet this person, he’s pushed it aside and gotten on with his life. It was Ben who first suggested he become a flight attendant. Luke was antsy to get out of Australia, to get out in the world and explore, and to find the person he’s destined to be with. He jumped at the chance, finishing the university classes he needed to quickly and then immediately applying to the airline. It wasn’t long until he was going through training. It’s where he met Michael; sarcastic, funny, sharp Michael, who’s good at putting on his customer service face for people and making sharp remarks to Luke while they prepare drinks. They make a good team, if only because Luke laughs at Michael’s comments and Michael had talked Luke down from his panic attacks on their first few flights together. Luke would venture to call Michael his best friend, if Michael wouldn’t make fun of him immediately for it.

It’s how they’d met Calum, Michael’s soulmate. He’d been the co-pilot on one of their early flights. Michael had crashed into Calum in the middle of the cockpit, covering him in coffee and uttering Oh fuck don’t get me fired, and Calum had frozen for a moment before bursting into laughter. He peeled back his sleeve to reveal the same sentence on his forearm, saying “This isn’t how I expected to meet; that’s for sure.” Michael then ripped his shirt open in the middle of the cockpit area, showing off the mark on his rib cage with those same words, laughing wildly in the face of Luke and the other flight attendants telling him to put his shirt back on before someone complained to the airline.

Luke likes Michael and Calum, enjoys spending his time with the two of them even though it's frustrating to watch them kiss and stare at each other all starry-eyed, sappy and in love. Luke’s lucky that he doesn’t live with Michael anymore, happy to have some time away from the two.

The other downside of Luke’s soulmark is that he’s heard some variation of it over the years. He’s been a flight attendant for close to four years now, and he’d have trouble counting the amount of times someone has said something in relation to not being home for holidays or Christmas. Luke’s almost desensitized to the words now, unphased by it all. He’s never felt the connection or spark behind it that everyone else claims to feel when they meet their soulmates. So Luke is here, waiting on flight after flight, airport after airport, for his soulmate to appear.

Luke is positively miserable today, though. It’s Christmas Eve and he’s supposed to be getting on a flight from Boston to California and then to Sydney. Supposed to being the key word. He’s currently stuck in the Boston airport, his just one of many delayed flights piling up on the back of a snowstorm rolling in. Luke’s been hiding in the back corner of the airport, texting Michael and Calum, jealous they get the holiday off. They’ve been sending him photos of their Christmas cards, where they’re grinning in matching ugly sweaters and reindeer antlers. It’s cheesy and sappy and Luke has never been so jealous of soulmates before.

Luke’s airplane sends out an announcement that the flight will be delayed until tomorrow morning and advises everyone to find somewhere to spend the night. Luke hears the grumbles of the other passengers, rolling his eyes at how clueless people can be. Did they really think they’d be able to leave tonight, between the other flight delays and the snow? Luke shares a look with one of the other attendants across the way, shaking heads and equal looks of misery at the idea of finding a place to spend the night. Luke’s waiting for the okay from his boss before he tries to find a place to spend the night. Luke is desperate to get out of here, to find some food and to find a hotel room to shower and sleep in.

He’s scrolling through his phone, looking at photos from his family, and debating when he can get up to go find somewhere to spend the night or if any of the other attendants need a roommate when someone collapses into the seat next to him. Luke glances to the side, catching sight of brown curls, nice biceps, and a strong jawline. If Luke wasn’t exhausted and wasn't going to have to fight people to get a room in a hotel on Christmas Eve, he might try to flirt with the guy.

“I won’t make it home for Christmas,” the guy says. Luke hums, half listening.

“The first time in years I’ve had the holiday off and I’m stuck here, in a crowded airport. Not even sure I’ll be able to find a hotel at this point,” the guy says, glancing at Luke while he huffs a bit and rolls his eyes. He’s fiddling with his phone, leg bouncing. Luke hums, glancing down at his own phone, snorting at the picture Michael’s sent of him and Calum in their matching tacky Christmas sweaters, reindeer antlers and all.

“I’m sure there’s a hotel left somewhere; the snow’s only just gotten bad,” Luke says, nonchalantly, defaulting to his generic answer he always gives passengers when they complain to him.

“What did you say?” The guy sounds a little breathless, shocked. Luke sighs, putting on his customer service smile and turning to look at the guy. The smile slips from Luke’s face though when he makes eye contact with him. It feels like he's letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a tightness in his chest relieving itself. The world slides itself into place and Luke gets it. It’s stupid and cliche, but he gets it now. The feeling everyone has described to him over and over again, of coming home, of peace. Luke gets it now, staring at the man next to him.

“Oh,” Luke whispers, taking him in, curled brown hair and bright hazel eyes, a slow smile forming on his face. Luke can’t help a similar smile from forming on his lips, dimples creasing his cheeks.

The guy grins even wider, pulling the sleeve of his jacket up so Luke can see the sentence painted across the back of his forearm, flowing cursive and Luke’s words. Luke reaches out, unable to stop himself, and traces the words, sucking in a breath at the electric feeling that flows through him at the contact with his soulmate.

“Who knew I’d have to go to an airport in Boston to meet my soulmate?” He says, laughing. Luke realizes he has an Aussie accent too, and he laughs breathlessly because really, what are the odds. What are the odds he’d go halfway across the world just to meet his soulmate by accident in a shitty, cold airport, stuck here during the holidays until the snow stops. Although, Luke guesses, fate probably had a hand in this.

“Australia is a large country,” Luke says, pulling his hand back, blushing.

“It seems fate has decided we should meet here instead. Ashton,” He says, holding his hand out. Luke blushes again, shaking Ashton’s hand, finding it incredibly silly to be shaking his soulmate’s hand in an airport waiting area. Ashton snorts, lacing his fingers in Luke’s so they’re holding hands. Luke blushes even harder. He’s usually much smoother than this, he’s being ridiculous.

“Luke. I would show you my tattoo but it’s on my hip,” Luke says, gesturing vaguely in that area. Ashton smiles, tongue poking out a little. Luke’s immediately charmed by him.

“So I can tell what brings you to an airport on December 24th. Uniform stole my one-liner,” Ashton says, gesturing to Luke’s dress pants and shirt, the little name tag pin he’s wearing. Luke blushes.

“You have one liners prepared for picking people up in airports?”

“Always gotta be prepared. Never know where you might be a handsome stranger destined to be your true love.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Well, what brings you to an airport on Christmas Eve? Since you mentioned wanting to get home.”

“I’m a session musician. We were finishing up recording and I was so sure I would be able to make it back home in time for Christmas. My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Well, tell her you met your soulmate. She can’t be too mad about that.”

Ashton snorts, rubbing his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. Luke stares at Ashton’s face, trying to memorize as much of it as he can. He wants to remember every detail to tell his family later, to describe the scene to Michael and Calum, to write into his wedding speech when he tells everyone about this moment.

“I bet you hear people complaining about not being able to make it home all the time. You know, being a flight attendant and all,” Ashton says. Luke smiles.

“Nothing quite as on the nose as you, though. Not from anyone as pretty as you,” Luke says, leaning over to brush a stray curl out of Ashton’s eyes and tuck it behind his ear. Ashton blushes, red dusting his nose and cheeks. It’s charming, Luke decides. Ashton is charming and cute and everything he’s ever wanted in a soulmate.

“Want to go get dinner? See if we can get a hotel room? Maybe between your uniform and my pleading, we can beg for a room somewhere,” Ashton asks.

Luke laughs, standing up and cracking his back, “I think we could manage that. Somewhere has to still be open at 6:00pm on Christmas Eve.”

Ashton grins widely, jumping up and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Luke smiles, pulling his jacket on and grabbing the handle of his rolling suitcase. Ashton grabs Luke’s hand, lacing their fingers together and grinning widely at Luke when he makes eye contact with him. Luke smiles shyly, cheeks pink, and curls falling in his eyes as he ducks his head.

They venture out into the cold of Boston, grabbing the first bus and taking it into downtown.

“What instrument do you play?” Luke asks, picking at some invisible lint on his pant leg.

“Drums. Sometimes I play guitar or sing, but my main love is drums. Well, my other love I guess,” Ashton says. Luke rolls his eyes, huffing fondly at Ashton. Ashton laughs, head tipped back slightly. Luke is charmed immensely by Ashton already. God, now he gets why Michael and Calum are so unbearable to be around.

“Do you live in Australia?” Ashton asks once his laughter has died down.

“Sort of. When I’m home I stay with my parents since they’re not too far. I officially own a place in LA. It’s my base airport and it’s easier to have a place there during my off times. Do you?”

“Yeah. I bounce between LA and New York most of the time being a musician. Boston was an accident. I was in London for the last month and was grabbing a connecting flight from there back to Australia for the season.”

“Maybe fate did want us to meet.”

“Could have done that without a snowstorm and flight delay.”

“Well, I wouldn't have met you without the delay,” Luke points out. Ashton shrugs. They fall into comfortable conversation, talking about their families, Michael and Calum, Ashton’s friends that he records with, their lives. It’s interesting, meeting someone who’s the other half of your soul. Luke feels like he’s known Ashton for years, comfortable and happy with him, but still like he’s learning Ashton. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands, fingers interlocked and resting in Luke’s lap while they talk, Ashton rubbing his thumb across the back of Luke’s hand.

They get off the bus when they make it to the city. Ashton pauses, taking a deep breath and turning to look at Luke.

“Do you wanna find a hotel and get room service? I doubt anywhere is open now,” Ashton says. Luke figures he’s probably right and nods. Ashton hums, pulling in the direction of where Luke can see a hotel in the distance.

They make it half a block before Ashton freezes, turning to look wide eyed at Luke, “Oh, I just assumed you’d want to share a room together. You don’t have to of course. I completely understand.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Ashton, you’re my soulmate. Of course I wanna spend the night with you. I like talking to you.”

Ashton deflates, smiling, “Good. I just didn’t want to force you.”

“You’re not forcing me, silly. I’m happy to be with you,” Luke says. Ashton smiles, tugging Luke in, pressing a kiss to his lips. Luke startles before relaxing slightly, easing into the kiss and tilting his head slightly, letting Ashton pull him close, gripping his hips, brushing his thumb over where Luke knows his soulmark sits, curved letters and all.

“Since I’m already delayed for the holidays, maybe I can delay myself in LA. Since we’re going the same way,” Ashton whispers onto Luke’s lips when he pulls back. Luke grins.

“Are you asking to move in with me on the first date Ashton? How very forward of you.”

“Well, we’re meant for each other. Might as well skip a couple steps if it gets us there faster.”

Luke laughs, snorting slightly and burying his face into Ashton’s neck, “How about we settle on dinner and a hot shower first? See where it takes us.”

Ashton hums, “Only if I can see your soulmark.”

“Well, obviously. Only fair if you get to see mine since you showed me yours.”

“I look forward to it,” Ashton says, grinning, as he presses another kiss to Luke’s lips, taking a step back and pulling them both in the direction of the hotel. Maybe delayed flights on Christmas aren’t so bad. Not if they can lead Luke to his soulmate.

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #my writing #its a soulmate au and stuck in the airport #for my love amanda

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heavensreigns · 3 years

Photo

𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲. 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀. 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲. 𝘄𝗲'𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆. 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀. ( cosimo de’ medici. dominic sherwood. unknown age. angel. ) psd & template.

CREATION the angel was made by god himself and he is a part of the first generation of angels that followed the archangels lucifer, michael, gabriel and raphael. it makes him older than many creatures in this universe and he had the “privilege” to be one of his father’s favorites for a long time. it was the reason why he was trusted with one of the first missions on planet earth, accompanied by his better half and best friend, pinniki.

VISITING EARTH was something that was feared by many angels while others were eager to see the new realm their father created. cosimo himself felt indifferent about it, but he was eager to please god and show him that his faith in him was nothing but justified. for a long time, he was nothing but a perfect little solider, but things were about to change when pik and him were tasked with the destruction of a nephilim. instead of ending the child’s existence, both angels raised them for a long time, but god was displeased with their choices and their lack of obedience. his better half was ordered to return to heaven and it would take a very long time for the two of them to find each other again.

FINDING HIS TRUE VESSEL after countless missions, cosimo finally located his one true vessel. the human body that was made for him, meant to last forever. it wasn’t hard to convince the young man to say yes to the angelic possession, but there was something else that made cosimo feel guilty: the man’s family. he could feel that his vessel was really close to his twin sister, camilla. he planned on giving them a few more days together, but within moments of staying around, cosimo felt something that he never experienced in his entire existence. he grew attached to the blonde and with it came a possessiveness that he never felt before either. it was impossible for him to lie to her and so he finally came clean about her twin’s fate, hoping that it would help her accept everything that happened. what he did not expect was for the attachment to be mutual. camilla refused to leave his side and by now, it no longer matters that they were not born as twins. she is his twin sister and cosimo loves her with all of his heart.

BECOMING CROWN PRINCE OF ITALY was not something that he planned on when he encountered teresa de’ medici. the queen was desperate: the king and her tried everything to conceive children for so long, but it just would not happen. their kingdom began to talk and she feared for her life, so when she noticed the resemblance between herself and the twins, she begged cosimo for his help. she would introduce them as their children, claiming that they were hidden away for their safety, and announcing that cosimo de’ medici was the rightful heir to the throne. he was hesitant at first: his acceptance would have an impact on the development of history and his father would not be pleased, but he finally agreed, unable to turn teresa down. camilla and him moved to italy and he took his place as crown prince.

ENDING AN OLD BLOOD FEUD months after his arrival in italy he came across a rarity. another supernatural being, a dragon, that went by the name of illyria pazzi. her story was much like cosimo’s: the pazzi family found and adopted her and there was an instant fascination between the two of them. their families, which had been enemies for quite some time, saw that they spent time together and they started to see it as an opportunity to end the bad blood between them. illyria and cosimo were asked to marry. again, there was lots of hesitance, but they finally agreed. why not? they were interested in each other, there was attraction. they would not have to live on without each other, since they were immortal. perhaps marriage would not be so bad and if it helped teresa and the house of medici, cosimo was willing to do it. a beautiful ceremony took place, making the dragon and the angel man and wife. a fact that only let his father’s anger grow.

FALLING IN LOVE while angels are not supposed to feel, he tried everything in his power to let himself feel. he wanted the full experience, but unfortunately, it did not happen with his wife. illyria and him still had their attraction to each other and their physical interactions were passionate. he cared for her, deeply, but it did not go past that. instead of loving her, he did something he knows he should not have done. when illyria moved into the castle, it was impossible not to notice one of her ladies in waiting: anastasia. she was nothing like the rest of them. she was wild and spirited, constantly leaving smiles on the prince’s face, even if he tried to hide them. it only took so long before they began to interact and soon enough, their conversations turned into a heated affair. in order to protect anastasia’s reputation, he made her his official mistress, even though he knew it would hurt illyria’s feelings. he was too consumed by ana and it was not just lust. he was slowly falling in love with her and their love was crowned when his mistress told him that she was pregnant with his child.

RETURNING TO HEAVEN at this point, cosimo was ready to take a step back to focus on anastasia and their child. in the past years, teresa managed to have children of her own. the medicis reign seemed secure, he held up the end of his bargain and when his first daughter, aurora, was born that was all that he wanted to be: her father. but things got delayed when teresa became ill. a reaper showed to warn cosimo. this was his father’s punishment for creating a nephilim and her soul would be denied entrance to heaven. infuriated by the thought, the angel warned camilla and anastasia that he would have to return to speak to his creator, but things were not supposed to work out the way he wanted them to. teresa’s soul did go to heaven, but his father’s punishment was severe. in his absence, aurora was destroyed. anastasia and camilla sacrificed their humanity and turned into demons, while ana took her own life to be with their daughter. illyria faked her own death to punish cosimo and god took their memories of aurora and anastasia, leaving him with nothing as he finally made his way back to earth.

BEING BANISHED FROM HEAVEN was not the worst thing in the world. he never relied on heaven’s forces to sustain himself and after his return, he tried to handle the mess in italy, staying there for a long, long time to guide and protect the house of medici, since he felt like he failed his job the first time. he stepped back from his position as crown prince, living his life in the shadows, always feeling like something was missing. it felt like he lost everything, except for camilla, and it only strengthened their bond. he tried to convince himself it was all he needed and it took centuries before they managed to remember what they lost, breaking through god’s spell.

DEFEATING THE EMPTY there is one resting place for celestial and demonic beings. just one. the empty. a place where souls are supposed to slumber for the rest of eternity. a peaceful thought to some, but when cosimo finally remembered his wife and his daughter he refused to let them stay there. cosimo cannot count the sleepless nights that he spent planning their recovery from the empty and it took a great amount of power that would weaken him for months to follow, but he managed to retrieve their souls, resurrecting both the love of his life as well as his firstborn.

RETURNING TO ITALY was the only thing that really made sense to cosimo after they reunited. with illyria long gone, the two of them finally married and after months spent together, their second daughter, leilani, was on their way to them. cosimo knew about the risks, but he promised himself to protect his babies with everything that he has. to send god a warning, he tracked the angel that destroyed aurora and anastasia, camilla and him had their revenge in ways that should not be described.

THE SEELIE REALM was not on the list of places that cosimo wanted to visit, especially not while his wife is pregnant with their third child, liam. he does not care about the feud between the clave and the downworlders, as harsh as it sounds. both sides are making mistakes and he believes that they should be able to handle things better, so he built himself a residence, hidden away in the woods, to keep his family as safe as possible.

#dih.intro #suicide tw #death tw

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willel · 4 years

Text

Random Season 4 Wishes

Here is a random list of things I want to see in season 4 in no particular order. Some of these are more like predictions than wishes, but at this point, any prediction made is just a wish.

A break from all out romance. The romance wasn’t really handled all that great last season. Other than the looming monster danger, it was the forefront of season 3. I would like a return to a season 1/season 2 formula where while there is still romance, it is never the focus. Stranger Things excels with subtle tender moments and meaningful physical contact.

Character growth over character drama. Another issue season 3 had is too much conflict between character. Hardly any of it really contributed to character growth. The only character growth to be seen is Mike being a little less clingy and El being a little more independent. Nothing else noticeably changed, not on screen. Conflict is important... but it should be pushing our character forward, not locking them in place.

Recapture the importance of family. Our cast has been divided in two. The Byers + El are somewhere new while the others stayed behind in Hawkins. This leaves an excellent opportunity to revisit old threads long forgotten. I would love to see Nancy and Mike actually interacting. Not just one conversation or exchanging a glance. Full out brother and sister duo. I feel similarly about Jonathan with his own family. I would like to see a plot where all the Byers + El are in it together.

Return of Kali. Kali, I feel, is a very important piece of El. While season 3 would have us forget her influence of El, I hope next season doesn’t completely ignore her presence. It would be interesting if Kali’s prediction comes true, that no matter where she hides or who she’s with, “they” will never let her live in peace or have a normal life. Not because I want harm to come to El, but because I don’t for a second believe the government is done with her or the other experimented children.

Proper strategist Michael Wheeler and proper action man Lucas Sinclair. I would like to see the return of the strategist Mike who always seems to have a plan and can get everyone on the same page. In season 3, he was fumbling around distracted. I feel normally, Mike would have set a trap for the Mind Flayer or would’ve formulated a proper plan to escape the mall or the cabin. In Lucas’s case, they did ok with him in season 3 actually, but it was really out of character for him to freeze up while El was being choked out. I want to see a more forward athletic Lucas.

Will to make new friends. In season 3, we saw at least 2 of the 4 boys interests changing drastically and the other was all too eager to go off and hang around new people. Given Will’s situation (new town, new house, new school, distant old friends), I’d like to see Will gain some new friendships. That’s not to say he’d drop the old ones. They’re the OG after all. But, before all the drama of next season picks up, it would be nice to see Will being happy and acknowledged by new friends.

US Government becoming a threat again. Personally, I did not enjoy the Russian plot. Everything seemed like a joke. When the US government were the bad guys, everything felt more dangerous and dire. You never knew who was listening. Who was watching. What would happen if they found El or if they would hurt the boys and their families. Next season, I feel they could make the Russians feel like as much of a threat as the US government if both governments are clashing and in a race to the bottom. By that, I mean the government should become a major foe again racing against the Russian government to do bad things. Open a gate? Control a demogorgon? Allow the Mind Flayer in again? Both these governments should screw up equally.

A slow return of El’s powers. I want El to get her powers back, but I want it to be a slow daunting process. It’s like she starts back at square one. She can move and pick up small things, but even that has taken her months. She’s stuck between being seemingly normal with no powers, but also missing the power she once had.

Casual power training. As we know, Will is really into comics. El might be too since Max introduced her to them. A classic of comics is the super hero training to regain their strength or to become stronger. It would be really interesting if Will contributed to El slowly regaining her powers by setting up obstacles and challenges just for her. Maybe on the weekends, he designs a building and she must use wooden blocks/legos to make it with her powers. Or, build a house of cards. A game of darts using powers only. A game of catch. (I was going to say Jenga, but it looks like that didn’t get released in the US until 1987) Anything Will can creatively come up with that he thinks will help her regain her strength. (whether it does or not is up for debate) It’s mostly casual fun. Some bonding opportunities. Who doesn’t enjoy training the hero/super hero? (basically, it’s roleplay)

Will’s power expanded. I am writing a proper theory page on Will’s/the Byers’s powers, but let me explain exactly what I mean here. It’s clear Will has powers, but they severely limited them in season 3. Examples:

Instead of only sensing the Mind Flayer when it’s nearby, he should be able to close his eyes, concentrate, and locate the center of activity

Will should have great insight into the Mind Flayer’s intentions even if it’s just honest guesses on what the Mind Flayer wants and what he’s trying to do (like in season 2)

Will’s danger senses should happen immediately, not delayed like we saw in the hospital or in the mall. He should be able to tell the Mind Flayer is coming for them from miles away or even across dimensions.

Will should retain true sight, the ability to see into the Upside Down. A dangerous ability to be sure, but can be useful if we’re going to have gates popping in and out around the world like what’s been implied.

Karen possibly discovering the truth. Honestly, Season 1 Karen is such a good mom. And in season 3, that discussion with Nancy was superb and beautiful. I would love for Karen to learn a little more what her two eldest kids have been up to. If not that, I’d like for her to at least give more guidance to her kids. I’d like for Nancy and Mike to vaguely come to her for advice and she’d grant it, no questions asked. (ok, Karen used to be very nosy so maybe she does ask questions, but takes a step back and respects their privacy)

Joyce to be believed right away. I honestly do not understand why people doubt Joyce, you know? She’s been right 3 years in a row now (Nancy too). I swear if anyone questions her intuition next season, she should give them her classic Joyce sneer until they realize how silly they’re being. In order of “alarm bells”, I think it will go like Will >> El >> Joyce >> Jonathan in quick succession. All 4 family members should be very sensitive to weird things as this point.

Jonathan gets a plot. I want to see things from Jonathan’s perspective again. After season 1, we’ve barely gotten anything. I want to see Jonathan putting forth plans or leading the charge, at least for a little while. There is a great opportunity for this next season since he’s the man of the house about to graduate from high school if he hasn’t already. (*sobs remembering Will is taller than him now, officially). Heck, if we want to switch around the order of “alarm bells”, maybe Jonathan becomes alert of something wrong before Joyce does this time.

Less product placement. In season 1/season 2, there was product placement, but that was because they were really setting the scene. It was 1983. This is what products used to be like. This is what was popular at the time. But season 3? They cranked that dial up 2000% when they didn’t need to. It really made it feel less serious and set in reality. Don’t dare use Lucas to spit out a damned Coke ad ever again.

Genuine friendship moments. I’ve mentioned this earlier, but with less romantic drama and stuff, I’d like to see genuine friendships return. The El and Max friendship was great and all, but it’s really a shame it was so heavily focused on Mike. I hope in the future, these two girls are able to share screentime without the boys being mentioned or thought about. Same with the guys, it would be nice if they could hang out like before without splitting off into pairs or focusing entirely on their romantic lives. They don’t really feel like a friend group anymore, just a group of double dates (hence why I’d like for Will to make friends outside the original group.)

Proper use of the supernatural. Season 3 was weak when it came to the Mind Flesher imo. They had this whole idea of the Flayed who seemed to be totally normal (and sweaty) just walking around town living their lives until a flip was switched. Whyyyyy in the world weren’t they used to try to get at our cast? The only time they did it was in the hospital, but we saw dozens and dozens of people who could’ve served the same purpose except it could happen anywhere. Maybe there were other ‘patients’ in the waiting room that also turned on the kids that they had to fight off? Maybe strange people came to all their houses trying to find them or break in? They could’ve gone full creepy like season 1/2 but they didn’t. I’d like to see them fully use the horror aspects next season.

That’s what I got off the top of my head.

#stranger things #theory

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lunartearrose · 4 years

Note

Timsasha pleas (you know who this is)

OH HECK YES listen the moment u said timsasha i IMMEDDIATELY knew what i wanted to do so like. prepare for incoming angst and an alt timeline!

read it on ao3 here!

it got super long but also here it is under the cut!

Squish squish squish.

Tim did his best to ignore the disgusting sounds of worm death under his feet as he ran to find a safe place. The best thing he could find for defense in case of more worm infested zombies was a flag pole with a rather sharp end - a fairly poor excuse for a weapon, but he figured it could at least leave a gross, corruption-ridden fleshbag confused enough for him to run more. And dear god, he hopes not to run into Jane again…

Before he knows it, he sees a sign dangling over a door up ahead, reading “Artifact storage.”

‘Oh that’s just great.’ Tim thought. It was the last place he’d ever want to hide in, but nonetheless he ran right in.

It seems the worms weren’t daring enough to come in, but he heard someone walking deeper in the corridors of cursed objects. Steeling his nerves, and keeping that flagpole handy, Tim walks further into the cramped darkness. He kept careful eyes on his surroundings, keeping his eyes on everything he could, while avoiding brushing up against the things that sit in this space. He wonders what made it tough to hear what was ahead… was it the echo?

“I see you!” a familiar voice echoes around him, sounding close.

He’d know her anywhere. It was Sasha. He picks up the pace, not caring what his weapon of poor choice brushes up against, just wanting to see a familiar face in this madness.

“I see you.” a… voice calls. It felt familiar. But it felt so wrong.

He rounds the corner as a struggle begins. The sight before him was nothing short of a nightmare to look at. Whatever was happening instantly caused a migraine to look at - but something deep inside him refused to let him shut his eyes. He felt like whatever this was had simply been another monster attacking, and he knew Sasha was in trouble. Between the bright, pulsing colors and hands gripping the person in front of him - no - people in front of him? There were two. But one of them was Sasha. He was so sure. They were fighting… and he had to act fast-

“SASHA!” Tim calls out for his trusted friend.

“Tim!” two voices call out, one a bit delayed. The image of both the struggling people flickers and ripples, as if reality just couldn’t handle the two existing at once.

But he saw what he needed to see. One figure’s reality seemed to twitch, spasming into elongated limbs and crooked features covered in frayed cobwebs. Tim didn’t need to think twice, and ran forward, plunging the sharp end into the figure that did the awful twitching. The sound it made was like that of plunging it both into a body and a foam square, strange but sickening all the same, as he shouldn’t have been able to just pierce it like that. The creature takes its hands off Sasha, whom he was now a hundred percent sure was her, and grips the end of that flagpole.

“A brave one, aren’t you?” the warbling voice growls at him, now unsure of who’s form it wants to take. Who’s life does it wish to steal now?

Tim gives the pole one last quick thrust before abandoning it and picking up his injured friend. With Sasha in his arms, he runs like hell as the half finished monster gives chase, howling with laughter

“C’mon! That really hurt, you know! If you drop her then I might just spare you!” it shouts at him.

“Fuck off!” Tim retaliates, and suddenly he feels like he’s losing his breath as the monster repeats his words and catches up dramatically.

“Such a coward! Always running away!” they mock, but it’s too late.

Wise to the trick, Tim doesn’t respond, forcing himself to run faster. He’s aching, feeling the scrape of sharp claws that almost caught up, but he keeps going. This isn’t just his life at stake...

Tim doesn’t dare to look back, praying to reach a door, not even bothering to note the out of place yellow of the door he busted through. He ran, and ran, and ran, his surroundings a blur, until the adrenaline finally begins to ebb. His running slowed, his legs shook, heart pounding as he does his best not to fall, placing Sasha’s unconscious body on the shifting floor. He wasn’t sure if the need to cough or vomit was worse.

The entity that so kindly let them in and let the monster lose itself watches on, wondering what Tim will notice first. The answer soon comes as he looks over the girl he was carrying, a girl the distortion knew had a name. Once. They watch as Tim swears and fusses over the scratches on her chest, trying to use whatever he had on hand to slow the bleeding, noting the especially strange wound over one of her eyes, that traveled down her cheek and into her hair, still looking as if it were a glitch in reality itself.

“Sasha! Sasha, stay with me, please…” Tim says to her.

And soon, with enough shaking and pleading, this Sasha girl opened her eyes. She struggled to sit, and Tim helps her, keeping the pressure on her chest wound.

“Tim…” she mutters softly, “I…”

“Thank god, you’re awake… how do you feel?” he asks.

“Pain…” she answers softly, “Please… get help…”

“Right, of course.” he says, finally taking a good look around him, “We’ll- ...oh.”

This gets a chuckle out of the distortion avatar. The two look back at him, and Sasha whines in fear while Tim scooches away from him as fast as possible, not letting go of his dear friend for even a moment.

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Tim says.

Michael humms for a moment. “Well… you dragged in a fine meal a little while ago. I suppose I can let you leave just this once…”

“Great! How do we leave?” Tim says, suddenly finding the strength to stand whilst holding Sasha.

“Just keep walking.” Michael replies, pointing in another direction, “You’ll find an exit eventually.”

“Thanks dude. Would love to stay and chat but we need a hospital.” Tim says, running off the way he was told to go.

Once again, Michael simply chuckles to himself, and walks off to find out if the Archivist was faring any better.

…

Tim and Sasha were let out at the front of the institute, where police and ambulances had arrived. Sasha had to be taken to the hospital, and Tim never left her side. Thankfully, her vitals were still intact and all she needed was some stitches and something to help the pain. As for the strange wound over her right eye, it was certainly addressed, but the doctors soon found messing with it both caused Sasha pain and caused strange, unfavorable things to happen. The best they could do is give her an eye patch, and let it rest. Only when she could stay awake would Tim allow them to treat the scratch on his back. He didn’t want to leave her side, and she really didn’t want to be left alone.

Once Tim was patched, he sat back down in the chair pulled up by Sasha’s hospital bed. “How you feeling?” he asks her.

“I’m feeling like an idiot for yelling ‘I see you’ at a monster, for one thing. Other than that, I’m at least not hurting too badly. How about you?” Sasha replies.

“I feel the very same way for not looking where I was running. I really thought we were dead in that moment…” Tim answers.

“Yeah. I thought that too… but we’re safe now, at least.” Sasha says.

She quietly reaches for Tim’s hand and holds it. Tim gives her hand a gentle squeeze in response, watching as she glances out the nearby window.

“I… really thought that was it for me, when that thing grabbed me. I’m glad you came around when you did.” She says.

“I’m glad, too. Really, I don’t know what I’d do if you ended up dead…” Tim replies.

“What was going through your head?” Sasha asks.

“A lot! It was confusing for a while, I don’t know exactly what I was looking at, but… definitely in the end, if that other guy hadn’t let you out at least, I was just afraid we’d never get to see each other again. And really couldn’t handle that thought. I think a lot of what drove me was keeping you alive.” Tim replies.

There was a bit of a pause. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back in turn. It was a bit difficult to have the right words to say to something like that.

“I think we both need a vacation after that mess.” Sasha says.

“I agree. I think everyone’s going to need a break after hell broke loose…” Tim replies.

“Yeah… you think we could go somewhere together?” Sasha asks.

“...Like as a group of assistants or…?”

“No. Just you and I. I could use a really long one, and like hell I’ll take it alone with the week I’ve been having.”

The idea of a vacation with Sasha really made Tim happy. He couldn’t ask for anything better than that, and he honestly didn’t want to leave Sasha’s side either. Even if they got to escape that hell dimension, there was no guarantee that the entity of bullshit squiggles didn’t let the monster out too.

“I’d be glad to join you, Sasha. Let’s hope Elias gives us a nice, long break.” Tim says.

Sasha nods. “Let’s hope.”

After that, they fell into another little moment of silence. Sasha listened to the little commercial playing on the tv, eye wandering around the room. Each time someone walked by outside the door, she couldn’t help but feel a bit tense. She tried to take her mind off that unease, focusing on the tv, and the warmth of Tim’s hand. She’s fond of how he’s always there for her, especially now.

“Hey Sasha?” Tim says.

“Yeah?” She replies.

“I… I think I want to tell you something.”

“Alright then. What is it?”

“Well… this whole experience made me think-”

Unfortunately, Tim doesn’t get to finish his sentence. A Nurse opened the door, explaining that someone was looking for Tim. Tim sighs, and tells her to send them in here. The Nurse nods, and soon after she leaves, Martin enters.

“Hey Tim! I was looking all over for- o-oh.” Martin says.

Tim gives a short wave with his free hand, and so does Sasha. He asks, “What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t realize you were visiting someone, that’s what!” Martin replies, then glances over at Sasha and says, “I’m sorry for barging in, ma’am…”

Sasha snickers. “Ma’am?”

Tim scoffs, “You don’t need to be so formal with Sasha, Martin. We’re all coworkers here.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize. N-nice to meet you, Sasha! Um, what department do you work in?” Martin asks.

Now, it’s very apparent that something’s wrong. Both Tim and Sasha are now starting to get very worried.

“You’re joking, right?” Tim says.

“Martin we work in the same department! The three of us are Jon’s assistants!” Sasha says.

“What? Thats- no, that’s impossible!” Martin says, clearly confused, “It’s only ever been the two of us helping Jon out, just Tim and I. Elias is still searching for a third…”

“That’s not true, though! Don’t you remember Jon’s birthday? We brought him a cake, scared the hell out of him? Martin, you have to be joking…” Sasha says.

“No, I- I’m sure I’d remember if you were there… you guys arent joking, are you?” Martin says.

“Look, I have proof she works with us!” Tim says, taking his phone out of his pocket, “I’ll find a picture of the four of us, I know I took one recently.”

But try as he might, after several painful minutes of searching his phone, he came up empty. Determined to be right, because hell, maybe that monster just screwed with the memory of those in the institute, Tim marches over to the nurse and asks if she can get ahold of Sasha’s medical records. If there’s anything you can’t argue with, it’s records.

But according to their records, Sasha James didn’t exist.

The only one who ever knew she existed was Tim.

#fanfic #request #ao3 #angst #alt timeline #the magnus archives #tma #sasha james #tim stoker #angst with a happy ending (?)#timsasha #tim x sasha #good taste anon!

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

All the Wrong Things

1924

Clara visited John last, nearly two full weeks after all that happened with the train explosion and the economic league and the family meeting she had missed, tucked away upstairs under a morphine-induced slumber. She hadn't set out to see John last by any sort of design. Clara would have liked to see him straight away, but Winson Green only allowed her to visit one prisoner a day. Men had visits on certain days, the women on others, and it had been difficult finding moments to actually get away, especially now that Ada had gone from Birmingham back to London and would soon be heading for America.

Clara wrung out her hands over and over again as she waited, tired and nervous after the long delay the prison staff subjected her to, the by now familiar performance they put on over an unaccompanied minor being allowed to visit a dangerous criminal, a known murderer. The men all knew her by now, recognized her name and who she was, and could likely guess who she had come to visit without her having to say it, but they still made her sit and wait, made a bunch of calls around Birmingham claiming a need for some sort of approval.

She was quite certain at this point it had less to do with any sort of formal approval and more to do with them notifying the great Thomas Shelby that his little sister was at the prison again. Tommy couldn’t get the boys and Polly out of prison, but he still seemed to have some clout with the warden and staff. Clara wasn't happy about it. She took great care in not telling Tommy where she'd be going, dropping her day's schedule to visit John, but there was little to be done about that now.

The guards marched John into the room and Clara's stomach dropped, her muscles involuntarily tightening as she saw the shackles rubbing at his wrists and ankles while he moved towards her. It had been the same with Arthur and Michael, but it made her sick to see John so restricted. John was the one who never stayed put or did as he was told, too free of spirit for cages and chains and rules, tethered to nothing in this world but his family.

And though Clara was used to seeing him a bit battered from time to time, the markings scattered across his skin bothered her too. All the boys were known to scuffle and there were plenty of fights John had not made it out of unscathed, but it didn't happen so often that the remnants of scrapping became layered, the various scrapes and bruises so clearly earned over a span of time rather than all at once.

And beyond the chains and the bruises, Clara wasn't used to seeing her brother so subdued. That was something John simply wasn't. The other Shelby boys delved into moments of tranquil contemplation with a certain regularity, but John was rarely quiet and if he contemplated anything, he did it aloud, so each and every person in a three-block radius could hear his opinion on the matter.

So, it could have been any of those things, or about a hundred others, which set Clara off, the sob catching in her throat for a moment before it finally broke through her lips, barely more than the combination of a gasp and a whimper coming out before she caught it.

John's face fell at the sound, hearing nothing but anguish in the short sound she emitted, a glimpse into the internal world Clara didn't always offer up so willingly. John watched his sister out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the guard to step away and give them some semblance of privacy, though he knew from his other visits that they'd not be allowed any true measure of it.

He expected his sister to look better. Healthier, more her normal self, but John was met with dull hollow eyes, the skin beneath them dark and puffy. The bruise on her cheek and the fingerprints on her neck were faded, but the yellow tinge of the decaying bruise was still noticeable if you knew where to look. And John did know, had actually spared more time thinking on the marks marring his sister than one would have thought over the last few weeks, especially considering he hadn't even seen the marks to begin with. He had only been told about the nature of her injuries by Polly and Ada.

John forced the corner of his mouth up into a smile as the guard shut them inside, trying not to think too hard on the idea of his sister being there with him, a prison of all places, locked in the small room designated for visits, nothing more than an empty cell, four walls of dingy concrete and metal bars to hold both captive and the sad fool who came to visit them.

She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes diverted to the floor after seeing too much in those first moments. John wanted her to see his smile though, needed her to see past the bruises and the chains and the uniform so he grabbed her hand, squeezing it once and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She glanced up then and John was quick to drop her hand before they got shouted at for making contact.

"How are you?" Clara's words came out as little more than a whisper, a shaky breath accompanying them as her eyes tried to stay on his.

"You know me. I'm alright."

John shrugged and the movement rattled the chains. Clara's eyes broke from his and she studied the rest of him, her eyes still catching all the wrong things that upset her when he first walked in, only now with the clarity of detail – his unshaven face, the bruises and scrapes and dried blood, the tired eyes matching her own.

"You?" he asked, prompting her eyes back to his.

Clara shook her head, feeling a small spasm within her as she tried to hold it in, reaching up to cover her face with both hands as she felt a tear escape onto her cheek.

"It's alright," John said, his hand reaching out to pull her hands away from her face. Clara was just out of his reach though, his hands pulled to an abrupt halt by the chains with a small space still between them. He let his hands fall. "You gotta put it in the past. It's done now."

Clara nodded at his words, wiping at her eyes as she looked to him. She knew it wasn't quite so simple. She had already passed so many tears about what had happened and thought she should have been all cried out by now. If Clara was being honest though, she doubted she would ever truly put any of this in the past. She had a feeling it would be with her for the rest of her life, lurking in her mind, revealing itself at the most troublesome moments. But this visit wasn't about that. It wasn’t about her, or at least Clara didn't want this visit to be about that.

She wanted it to be about John, about making sure he was well enough, what with his tired eyes and the smile that wasn't quite genuine.

"I'm scared," she finally said, "for you. All of you. Are you sure you're alright?"

John sighed, his shifting feet once again sending off a rattle of the chains. This was why he didn't let Esme bring the kids to see him. He didn't want them scared for him. Let them be scared of the dark or the mean teacher at school or old ghost stories. He didn't need his his kids scared for their father and he didn’t need his sister scared for him either.

"I'm doing fine, alright?" he said, lifting his arms as if to give her a proper look at him. "I'm all in one piece."

Clara's eyes still focused on the wrong things though, and John snapped his fingers at her, a characteristic 'Oi!' popping out of the corner of his mouth before his sister's eyes jerked to his.

"You've been helping Es with the kids?"

Clara quickly nodded, trying to keep her eyes from drifting. She'd been to see Esme almost as often as she was at Arrow House with Charlie. "And the older ones are helping with the little ones."

"That's all I need to be fine, then. You take care of them and yourself and make sure our brother doesn't do anything too fucking stupid."

Clara sputtered out a laugh. "Which one?"

John took a breath, a nearly genuine smile coming to his lips. "I meant Finn, though I suppose you should keep your eye on Tom, too. I've got Arthur and Michael handled."

It didn’t surprise Clara that he still wanted Tom looked after or that he’d decided on looking after Michael and Arthur. Clara closed her eyes for a moment before meeting her brother's gaze.

"And what about you?"

John shook his head, glancing through the bars to where the guard stood his back to the pair. He took a step and reached forward as much as the chain allowed, grasping Clara and pulling her towards him, grateful when she did the work of wrapping her arms around him before crashing into his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck

They stayed like that for a long moment, John watching the guard's growing restlessness over Clara's tucked head. The man would turn around to check on them at any moment. John could almost feel it coming so he placed a quick kiss on his sister's head.

"Alright, Clara, that's enough," he said, attempting to nudge his sister a safe distance away, thankful when she stepped back, her deep settling breath hiding none of her concerns and fears as she studied a crack in the concrete.

"Hey," John prompted, drawing her eyes to his for a final time as the guard finally turned towards them. "You listen to me. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, alright?"

Clara nodded, swallowing as the guard yanked on her brother's arm.

Clara’s agreement was a lie. They both knew it, but it was a lie John had needed to hear, from his sisters, from Esme, from anyone who offered him a single note of concern. It would help him through the long, empty hours because John couldn't bear the thought of them worrying about something they had no hand in making happen, something they'd have no hand in fixing either. John planned to keep any fear or worry for himself. He could take it, had already been left for dead once before, so all this? This was nothing.

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Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby!sister #shelby sister #john shelby #clara shelby #I love you prompts #300 follower celebration

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