#:3 i may have went off the rails. i did say they were haunting me

[doomednarrative]

@temporalmystusions I saw your tags and yknow what, I'm gonna use them as a jumping point to talk about this dude for a bit. I'll put it under a cut so the post doesn't get long ~

So, to preface: The idea for Jessie and the other ocs in this story came from a stupidly vivid dream I had like a year ago sometime after finishing watching Ryuki for the first time. In the dream, a short segment of a story played out about a guy (who became Jessie as he exists in my head now) fuckin covered in blood horror movie style, holding a baseball bat while a scared kid stood behind him as he was seemingly defending this kid from demons that were coming out of the reflective surface of the windows in their house in front of them. That is All the dream gave me, but from there I kinda extrapolated the concept and decided to build on it while brainstorming with some friends.

What I ended up with after all of that (which is Still actively developing in my head and currently plaguing my thoughts) is this:

Jessie is 32 years old, and a huge loner. Doesn't really have any friends, parents died when he was a baby and he went thru the foster care system the rest of his childhood years, and the guy he was dating for a few years died in a freak car crash. He's pretty much to the point where he believes people aren't going to last if they're around him, so he's made no active effort to meet anyone. The only companion he has is a cat named Leaf who he found abandoned as a kitten and took in out of pity. He works a shitty job at a grocery store which isn't enough to pay rent anymore for his little one person apartment, and he feels like life just does not care for him.

By some sheer luck, he stumbles across an ad hanging near his job for someone looking for a babysitter for their kid. The pay is decent, it's full time, and best of all housing is provided. It's a total live in job for a home schooled kid who needs someone to look after him and who knows how to cook and clean.

Jessie's never really seen himself as a caretaker or a parental figure to anyone, but he decides it Has to be better than whatever his life is now. So he quits the grocery store, packs up what little stuff he has in his apartment and shows up to the house hoping the job offer is still open.

He's greeted at the door by a 12 year old named Zander who just looks at him and says "You're here for the nanny gig aren't you?" and lets him in, and then promptly disappears to his room. The kid seemingly has no interest in getting to know Jessie, but that's fine. It's day one. They'll work things out.

At least that's what Jessie hopes.

Things are slow but fine for the first week or so. Jessie cooks for Zander, who spends most of his time in his room either doing schoolwork or working on his own little art projects, and they eat quiet meals together. He helps clean the house (whoever was the nanny before him seemingly left in a hurry and was a mess about it, which is curious to him) and even if Zander doesn't talk to him much, the kid's at least not mean to him. And the kid likes his cat, so small victories.

It's not until Jessie starts to Maybe feel like this won't be a total disaster that something has to go wrong, of course.

It's about 2am one night when Jessie wakes up to the feeling that something is wrong. He can't quite pinpoint what, but something inside the house feels off, and he can't shake the feeling no matter what he does, so he gets out of the bed in his personal bedroom and goes downstairs to see whats up.

Zander fell asleep on the couch that night with Leaf curled up beside him, and Jessie had let them be, taking it as a win that the kid had felt comfortable enough to not lock himself in his room for once. He really didn't think much about it past that and thought it was fine if he left him alone for the night.

Maybe he shouldn't have.

The house is quiet, almost deathly so as Jessie walks around, careful not to wake Zander. Nothing is out of place, it doesnt look to the naked eye like there's any danger around. Jessie starts to think that maybe he was just having a weird night still adjusting to the new house and got spooked for no reason.

It's not until he makes his way over to the giant sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard that he thinks he sees something, reflecting at him in the glass. Not a person, but some sort of creature with glowing yellow eyes, clearly looking back at him.

He doesn't have time to move or think before something darts out of the glass towards him, hitting him in the lip as he can feel it start to bleed.

Safe to say, he screams, because whatever wrong feeling he'd had was apparently Right, and there is something or someone in this house, or surrounding it that has every intention of hurting him.

He's too stunned to realize that his scream had woken Zander, and it's not until the kid appears behind him, thrusting a baseball bat that he has no idea where it came from into his hands, saying "That won't be the only one!" that he realizes hes not the only one in danger here.

He's got a kid to look after, and if the way Zander is acting says anything? This isn't the first time he's seen this kind of thing appearing in his house. It's not until then that Jessie realizes he has no clue what kind of babysitting job he'd actually signed himself up for.

---

So! Jessie finds out the hard way he did Not sign up for a normal babysitting job.

Zander is a half demon child, and in this universe, halflings like him basically have a mark on their head from birth. His mom is human, and she walked out on him some years ago, tired of being a single mom with her life constantly in danger. She basically told Zanders dad, a demon named Lerajie (Or Larry as he eventually will be known) to figure it out if he cared about his son's life, and so the solution was to try and find another human who was strong enough to help defend Zander and watch over him while Lerajie kept the house warded from afar. (He would help more physically if he could, but he's incapable of doing so where the story starts out.)

Jessie knew none of this. He doesn't find out until after that first demon attack that he's like the tenth babysitter Zander has had. All of the others walked out once they realized the actual danger involved in the job, and Jessie begins to understand why this kid was reluctant to talk to him or even get to know him.

Turns out they were both used to losing anyone they tried keeping around, even if the reasons for it were massively different.

Jessie's not remotely qualified for this. He's just some dude in his thirties with no real physical skills and barely a clue what he's doing in his life.

But. He knows what it's like to be a lonely kid with no family, getting passed between people who stopped caring about you once the novelty wore off. He lived it his entire childhood.

So. He decides to stay. He'll keep Zander safe, or at least fucking Try to do so. And maybe along the way he can drag his dad back into the picture too, if he has any say in all of this.

This one oc dude I had a dream about months ago has been haunting my thoughts again so here’s some doodles of him ~

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[fandomficsnstuff]

In Just A Second - 11

Legolas x Witch!Reader

(Warnings: some fighting and blood, but a very small amount. Also I know this is short but there’s gonna be some smut in the next part as an apology:3)

Elvish:

“Nin mel, nin cuil, nin tinu, nin meld, if er aur im am an lelya-, tovon in i talv, im will mel cin, onlui cin” - My love, my life, my star, my dear, if one day I am long gone, deep in the ground, I will love you, only you.

“Nin mel” - My Love

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched in horror at the smoke that rose from the city, the ships making their way too slowly up the Anduin River, your blades in your hands as you stood ready. You sat besides Legolas as you all hid behind a railing on the deck, your eyes turning to meet his and you leaned closer to him “after this, will you marry me?” you whispered as the ships made it to the shore, seeing his eyes light up as he quietly chuckle, a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle “only if you slay more orcs than me” he jested, and you nearly laughed loudly “be careful, I might win” you challenged, seeing Legolas smirk “maybe I want you to” he mumbled, leaning closer to your lips, about to lean in and kiss you when a voice disturbed the two of you.

“Late, as usual! Pirate scum! There's work that needs doing!” You heard an orc yell, the sound of the voice made you cringe, and it didn’t help when you heard it again, “Come on, ya sea rats! Get out off your ships!” he yelled again and you glanced at Aragorn who gave a quick nod, and you all leaped out of the ship and onto land, standing for a second before slowly making your way towards the group of orcs, hearing them slowly laugh, amused at the sight of just the three of you. “There are plenty for both of us! May the best dwarf win!” you heard Gimli say and you glanced at him with a smirk “I think you mean ‘may the best witch win’?” you asked, receiving a quick glance and laugh from Gimli, the four of you making your way to the orcs, picking up the pace as the army of the dead appeared behind you, the orcs realizing just how dead they all were and began to run, their tails behind their legs as the cowards they truly were.

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

You cut down one orc, keeping a mental note of how many you had slain, so far you were up to forty, the orc you just cut down making it forty-one. You turned at the mention of Legolas' name, your eyes following theirs and widening at the sight before you, a Mûmakil, with a small army on top, and before you could say or do anything Legolas moved towards it, managing to grab onto arrows that had previously been fired at it’s legs, climbing his way up to the top of the beast, shooting people as he went while you stayed on the ground, slaying orcs. Your eyes widening as a man had snuck up behind him and in the blink of an eye you grabbed the sword belonging to a fallen orc, mumbling something under your breath and throwing it, your eyes lighting up and the sword hit it’s mark, Legolas turning his head to see you blowing a kiss at him, and he afforded you a quick smirk before continuing, that was forty-five.

You watched him cut the rope of the platform that went around the Mûmakil, watching as it slided off and you followed the army of the dead as they surrounded the fallen platform, killing any survivors, but you, on the other hand, continued along the Mûmakil to the best of your ability, just in case he needed you. You cut down another orc, mentally counting it to forty-six, as you continued onward, watching as Legolas moved to the head of the Mûmakil, shooting not one, not two, not three, but four arrows at the same time, the arrows piercing it’s skull and you watched as it fell, Legolas disappearing from your view. Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, and finally you reached around the dead Mûmakil in time to see Legolas softly land on the ground with a smirk, staring at Gimli whose face was completely red in frustration “that still only counts as one!” He angrily said and you ran over to Legolas, cupping his face as you giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly, which he happily returned, and when you parted you smirked at him “he’s right, still only counts as one” you whispered and Legolas scoffed amused, eyes glancing to the ground before looking back to you with the same smug smirk “how many?” he asked and you shrugged playfully “fifty-two” you said casually, watching his stunned expression as you moved away from him and cut down another orc, turning to him with a few drops of orc blood covering your cheeks, and you had never looked more beautiful to him… well, except for that night at the camp, to him, you were a goddess.

“Fifty-three. Be careful, my love, I’m winning” you taunted as you moved on to the next orcs, Legolas couldn’t help the adoring smile he wore as he watched you, before joining the battle once again.

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

You stood besides Legolas, your eyes, which had stopped glowing, fixated on the King of the Dead, who stood before Aragorn, “Release us…” his voice was haunting, but you guessed yours would be as well if you were long dead and but a ghost, cursed to walk the earth eternally.

“Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead.” Gimli said with slight apprehension, and you frowned down at him “they have been bound long enough, Gimli…” you whispered, seeing a disappointed look on his face as he looked away, “You gave us your word!” the King said in an angry voice, as if he was scared that Aragorn would take Gimli’s words into consideration, but clearly, they did not know Aragorn. “I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace” Aragorn said, and you smirked proudly at him as the King of the Dead seemed relieved, a smile on his lips as he and his army disappeared in the wind, finally free and at peace. You bowed your head down and knelt before Aragorn, who had turned and saw Gandalf bowing his head as well, to the new king of Gondor, the real king.

On your way back to the city of Gondor you were walking with Aragorn, who stopped, head turning and once you followed his gaze, your eyes widened. Èowyn. Your feet carried you towards her and Éomer, your knees hitting the grass besides her as you looked her over, ignoring the cries of Éomer who held her, you put a hand on her forehead, over her eyes, and closed your own eyes, a glowing light shining from the under your eyelids, and when you opened your eyes again, Éomer, for the first time, saw a glimpse of the power you possessed, your eyes slowly turning back to their beautiful (Y/E/C) colour, finding his own eyes as you gave him a small smile “she’s alive… hurt and wounded, hanging on by a thread, but alive” you assured him and he sighed in relief, his eyes glancing back at you, about to say something, and you swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips, just for a second, but as Legolas approached he frowned in slight confusion, watching you get up and Legolas gently grab your hand, his other hand cupping your cheek with a love and adoration in your eyes that Éomer wished you looked at him with.

You gave Éomer a small smile before continuing onward to the city with Legolas, who still held your hand. You were halfway there when he stopped you, and you turned to him, silently asking why you were stopping, but when you saw his gaze you already knew. “Did you mean it? The promise you made?...” he carefully asked, and you smiled brightly at him, removing your hand from his, seeing a split second of grief, until both of your hands cupped his face, your eyes staring into his with certainty “Legolas, my love, nothing could ever stop me from meaning those words. It is beyond doubt that I love you, and now, I truly believe that Elves and Dwarves are not the only ones who only love once, who will only love one person for the rest of their life.” You whispered and you saw… tears? In those beautiful, icy blue irises, you saw an ocean of tears and joy at your words, “Nin mel, nin cuil, nin tinu, nin meld, if er aur im am an lelya-, tovon in i talv, im will mel cin, onlui cin” at his words, you couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes, running down your cheeks, and you felt his fingers gently wipe one of them away, the gesture taking roots deep in your heart and you looked up at him with pure adoration and love, something you saw in his own eyes.

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

As you reached the top of the city of Gondor, much to your exhaustion, which surprised you, you saw the white tree, a tree you had wanted to see for as long as you could remember, and when you approached, you saw a small flower bloom on one of it’s branches, your eyes finding the figure of Aragorn who walked over. You looked back at the flower with pride, studying everything about it “the king of Gondor has returned, My Lord” you glanced at him, seeing him roll his eyes ever so slightly at the nickname ‘My Lord’, knowing full well that he already hated it, not that it would stop you. So you faked surprise “My Lord! A king does not roll his eyes at his subjects!” you said in a fake surprised voice, seeing Aragorn lightly glare at you, but you knew it was just playful, so you quickly moved to Legolas “save me, my love” you giggled as Aragorn continued to glare at you, but eventually his eyes moved back to the tree, and Legolas stood as confused as ever, you behind him as though Aragorn would chase you “why, Nin mel?” and you giggled, dropping the act, standing up straight and shrugging in a playful manner “Aragorn wasn’t too fond of me calling him ‘My Lord’, not even an army of orcs would scare me as his glare did” you jested, seeing Legolas gently shake his head in amusement as Gimlli laughed at your comment. One of Legolas’ hands found your lower back and he led you inside the castle itself, Gimli mumbling about finding something to eat as he followed you two, giving Aragorn space to study the tree that proved to him that he was indeed the real king of Gondor, that there was no mistake, that he was the right one, despite his earlier doubts.

Before you entered the hall you turned and saw Gandalf approach Aragorn by the tree, and you stared proudly at the dark haired ranger, proud to not only have the pleasure of knowing him, but to call him family as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@entishramblings

@depressedchilipepper

@graniairish

[macaronis-telegraph]

Let me tell you about Jack Thayer.

John “Jack” Borland Thayer III, at the age of 17, was heading home to Philadelphia via New York along with his mother and father¹ as first class passengers on the ill-fated maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic. Upon the collision with the iceberg and the loading of the lifeboats, Jack went to investigate and quickly found himself separated from his parents. He assumed they had both managed to board a lifeboat, and he was half correct - his mother, Marian Thayer, hade made it onto lifeboat 4.

Not young enough to find easy refuge on a lifeboat, Jack spent those final moments onboard the Titanic with Milton C. Long, who was in a similar state of separation from his family. Together they worked up the courage to jump into the water, for hopes of swimming out to an already launched lifeboat, but they hesitated, Jack later saying that he feared being stunned upon hitting the water, due to the below freezing temperatures. Eventually, though, when the boat deck was only an estimated ten yards above the water, they finally took the plunge.

“Long and myself stood by each other and jumped on the rail. We did not give each other any messages for home because neither of us thought we would ever get back.” ²

Milton jumped first. Jack followed, but would never see Milton again. Jack’s account of his time in the water is as follows:

“I jumped out, feet first, went down, and as I came up I was pushed away from the ship by some force. I was sucked down again, and as I came up I was pushed out again and twisted around by a large wave,³ coming up in the midst of a great deal of small wreckage. My hand touched the canvas fender of an overturned lifeboat. I looked up and saw some men on the top. One of them helped me up. In a short time the bottom was covered with twenty-five or thirty men. The assistant wireless operator⁴ was right next to me holding on to me and kneeling in the water.” ²

This upside-down lifeboat was the Engelhardt boat B, one of the Titanic’s four “collapsible” lifeboats. B in particular had been swept off of the deck before it could be properly launched, landing itself in the water bottom-side up. This boat carried 30 men through the cold night, only three of them passengers, the rest crew, being led by 2nd Officer Charles Lightoller. It was a constant battle of balance, desperate not to release the small pocked of air trapped under the boat that kept it afloat. By daybreak, they were all standing, the lifeboat almost fully submerged, feet freezing.⁵

With daylight, they were finally able to locate the other lifeboats, and with a whistle easily identified as that of an officer’s, Lightoller directed two lifeboats to meet their overturned one, so the exhausted men could all offload onto drier and safer wood. Of these two boats, one of them was lifeboat 4, holding Jack’s mother.

One can hardly imagine what it must’ve been like for Marian Thayer, the crushing emotions she may have felt in those moments. To take the sea in a lifeboat, knowing both her husband and son were still on board the doomed ship. To see that ship disappear under the surf, and to hear the screams until they too vanished like the liner. To know that the worst has happened to her family, but maybe, that dangerous inkling of hope, or more so, denial, that many survivors had felt, telling themselves that their loved ones must be on one of the other lifeboats - they just must. And then as the dawn brakes, distraught and cold, she doesn’t even recognize a familiar face on that overturned boat they had gone to relieve. Jack, too, did not notice his mother at this time, likely hypothermic⁶ from his plunge the night before. It wasn’t until they were safe onboard the RMS Carpathia that the two were truly reunited, and as I said before, one can only imagine the outpouring of emotions that must have caused. Not to mention, that there was still someone missing from this reunion. Jack’s father had not survived.

While Jack and his mother’s survival might call for a relatively happy ending, I’m afraid that can’t be the case. After graduating from college, becoming a successful banker, and settling down with a family, Jack still found himself extremely haunted by that fateful night in 1912. In 1940, he wrote about his experiences to try and expel the troubles from his mind, but it seemed that it was not enough. Then, with the outbreak of WWII, both of his two sons joined the services, and one did not return. Not long after, Jack Thayer followed his late son, taking his own life on September 18th, 1945.

...

Notes:

1. Jack’s father was John B. Thayer II, vice president of the Pennsylvania railroad.

2. These quotations are as written in The Truth About the Titanic, written by Col. Archibald Gracie. Gracie was one of the other two passengers (all three of which were first class) who found refuge on the Engelhardt boat B.

3. This large wave was likely caused by the falling of one of the Titanic’s funnels. This wave also accounts for how Jack jumped off of the starboard side, but ended up on port. 

4. Refers to Harold S. Bride, the junior wireless operator, working for the Marconi Company. 

5. While Jack came out of the whole ordeal uninjured, other occupants of lifeboat B did not fare as well. Bride, for example, suffered frostbitten and broken feet.

6. Jack having hypothermia is entirely my own speculation. I have not seen any material stating that Jack suffered any medical conditions from that night, nor am I a doctor, but it does not seem unlikely to me due to the temperature, him being soaked through, and the fact that he did not register the presence of his own mother.  

[frogsandcookies]

Hellfire

Who ordered a Hunchback of Notre Dame au for Sanders Sides? 

Anyways, this is a song fic Hellfire from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Logan is Frollo in this, Patton is Esmeralda, Virgil is Quasimodo, and Roman is Phoebus (the latter two are barely mentioned)

Warning: Minor NSFW themes(nothing explicit so don’t worry but Logan does talk about lust), Violence, Mention of death, A lot of religious stuff (Talking about hell and such)

***Edited on 3-28-21 to remove a offensive word from the writing, I apologize for using it in the original, I wasn’t aware that it was a slur. 

___

Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti Beatae Mariae semper Virgini Beato Michaeli archangelo Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis

The sound of the congregation’s singing bounced off of the towering stone halls, echoing throughout the magnificent cathedral and the surrounding city area. It was haunting, both beautiful and terrifying though the townsfolk paid no attention to it, used to the sound by now. The usually bustling city was quiet and dark, except for one house. Logan Frollo’s manor.

The stone faced man was standing on his balcony that looked over the whole city, his hands clamped tightly on the marble railing. His knuckles were a ghostly white and his teeth clenched together tightly. The deafening cathedral bells began to ring and his eyes snapped to the Notre Dame.

“Damned bells.” He muttered before releasing the thoroughly strangled railing and turning quickly on his heel. His robe swept elegantly behind him following his spin, the wind blowing it back as he strided into his home. Just as the bells ceased their ringing, Logan slammed the mahogany doors to his balcony, his face bearing an wrathful expression.

He was restless, clenching and unclenching his hands as he thought about the events that had occurred the past couple of days.

Logan suddenly stopped and his eyes flicked up to the tall portrait of the Virgin Mary which hung above the grand stone fireplace where a crackling fire was lit. Its eyes seemed to watch his every movement and looked into his soul, reading what he was thinking.

Beata Maria

You know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud

“Beata Maria, Saint Mary, why must you look at me so? You have seen from my actions that I am indeed a righteous man who strives for perfection in the citizens of Paris.” Logan said, looking up to the painting who’s leering seemed to increase as he continued to speak.

“Although my arrogance may seem unjust, I think that all of the contributions I have made to this growing city speak for themselves; of which my virtue I am justly proud. Not many can say they helped exterminate the infestation of travelers that roam about our glorious city, corrupting the weak willed citizens.” Logan added, his tone sounding a bit desperate as he pleaded to the painting.

Beata Maria

You know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

“The citizens who make up our City of Light are vulgar and common yet I strive to help them reach salvation. Those fools in the Notre Dame do the devil’s work, protecting those wanderers and that freak of a child who I graciously raised.” Logan spat, his anger flaring.

“When I reach Heaven’s pearly gates those weak fools will claw at my feet.” He murmured.

Then tell me, Maria

Why I see him dancing there

Why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul

There was a jingle of bells and Logan spun around, his glasses nearly falling off of his face as he looked for the source of the all too familiar sound.

“Who’s there?” He called, his hand flitting to his pocket where a silken blue scarf was housed. No one answered his call and Logan yelled once again,”Come out you vile boy!”

Only the crackling of the fire answered him  and Logan turned back around. He ignored the painting’s judging stare as he pulled out the delicate scarf, his hands shaking slightly as he caressed it.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about that witch?!” He muttered angrily. The fire crepitated in response and Logan looked into the red orange flames.

I feel him, I see him

The sun caught in his glowing hair

Is blazing in me out of all control

The dancing of the flames brought his thoughts back to the festival. Where he had met him. The man who had somehow wormed his way into Logan’s cold heart.

The boy had shoulder length caramel locks that seemed to float while he danced on the stage, a tambourine in one hand and a scarf in another. The image of him dancing and wrapping the scarf around Logan’s neck had forever been burned into his mind, no matter how hard he attempted to rid it from his brain.

He still felt disgust towards the younger male but accompanying it was a new feeling as well.

Like fire

Hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning

Desire

Is turning me to sin

It was lust. One of the seven deadly sins that the Lord had preached not to commit unless he wanted to be damned to the fiery pits of hell.

And yet, there it was. His skin burned and a pit of fire replaced his soul. This feeling was new. Logan had dedicated himself to the church, working to eliminate the sin and the sinners accompanying it from the world. While his methods were questionable to most, he saw them as the best course of action and so he went forward, destroying homes and imprisoning countless travelers to the city.

Destroying the nomads had always been his mission; it was as though he had been birthed to do it. He never had time to take his turn with romance, always caught up in his work and never meeting anyone who caught his eye.

Until the festival. The event that had spurred an emotion in him that he had never felt before.

It's not my fault

I'm not to blame

It is the g**** boy

The witch who sent this flame

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and looked back up to the painting who’s stare was cold, much like his own.

“It’s not my fault!” He snapped before saying,”It’s that beastly dancing boy’s fault! He cursed me, got me trapped in his ungodly spell! He was the one to light this fire inside me, I am innocent!”

The fire seemed to roar at this and Logan stopped back, still gripping the scarf tightly in his hands.

It's not my fault

If in God's plan

He made the devil so much

Stronger than a man

“Maria why must I be at fault?! God created me with the intention of tempting me with this sin! But also made the devil to overpower me and damn me to hell!” Logan yelled.

“I am not to blame for this sin, the devil has come and planted this seed in my soul, one that I cannot begin to understand nor control! I am a man of God and yet he still tries to damn me! If in his plan to make the Devil stronger, why must I be included! Oh mother Maria!” Logan shrieked, hitting his fist against the cold stone wall as an emphasis for his words.

Protect me, Maria

“Mary, queen of Heaven, protect me from this sin and allow me to continue following the path to salvation!” Logan said, breathing heavily.

Don't let this siren cast his spell

Don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone

The flames continued to dance, showing him more images of the curly haired youth and Logan screamed in rage.

“Don’t let this witch, this siren continue to tempt me! Wipe him from this Earthly plain and let him dance in hell with the devil! His fire, this fire, burns; it scorches my soul and this temptation is ungodly!” He shrieked.

Destroy Patton Fairhope

And let him taste the fires of hell

Or else let him be mine and mine alone

Logan knew that while this might be a sin, he could try and reform the young male, try and redeem his soul. Without his guidance though, there was no hope and the fire within him would not be quenched until the male--Patton-- had met his own kind of fire. The ever burning fires of the underworld.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Logan spun around, shoving the sky blue scarf back into his robe pocket as the door swung open. In the doorway stood an armor clad soldier, his face cast in shadow due to the light being emitted from behind him.

“Minister Frollo. The g**** has escaped.” The soldier said.

Logan froze, rage bubbling up inside of his as he said,”What?”

“He’s nowhere in the cathedral. He’s gone.” The soldier elaborated.

Logan ran a hand through his thinning hair as a wrathful expression wormed its way onto his face and the soldier stepped back nervously.

“But how did…” He paused, collecting himself and dawning a neutral expression which was just as unnerving at the angry one. “Nevermind. Get out you idiot.” He snarled, waving the soldier back as he turned back to the fireplace, the flames reflecting his swirling emotions.

As the guard closed the door, he faced the fire, adding,”I’ll find him if I have to burn down all of Paris.”

Hellfire

Dark fire

“Hellfire. Darkfire. That idiot can run but nothing can match the troops of Paris. If he wants hell, then I shall bring it to him.” Logan snarled, wringing the scarf as he continued to talk.

Now g****, it's your turn

Choose me or

Your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

“If that witch wants to live then he will wisely choose to accept my offer of forgiveness. If he refuses then may he be burned at the stake like all of those other sinners.” Logan said, smirking as he remembered the many others who he had damned to the stake.

“Not everyone is as fortunate to have won my favor. Choose wisely.” He murmured to the scarf before casting it into the flames. The delicate fabric immediately caught flame and the garment was ash within a span of several seconds. Logan looked up the Virgin Mary painting once more, looking smug before turning away.

God have mercy on him

God have mercy on me

“May God be with him as he decides on his fate. And may God be with me and let this boy join me so we can walk the path of salvation together.” Logan said.

But he will be mine

Or he will burn!

“But let there be no doubt. He will be mine or he will burn. And may that foolish captain and that freak burn with him should he choose this path.” Logan said, staring at the Notre Dame through the stained glass windows where the monster he had raised resided.

[zoefandom127]

this literally came up out of nowhere. I was thinking about this YJ fic i read a while ago when Artemis got poisoned then i started thinking about Mikasa's family line and how she has SUPER STRENGTH (don't try to argue with me, just let me believe what i want to believe lol) So i got to thinking and this is what came to be. This totally does not correlate with the plot and i think it may a little all over the place...but let's see how well i did!

The Durability of an Individual

She had never heard of another person with her last name. The last people she knew with the name Ackerman were her parents and her memory of them in her life was pretty short-lived.

Kenny the Ripper. Kenny Ackerman.

Captain Levi. Levi Ackerman.

Ackerman.

What a fucking family tree. She was related to an expert killer and a blunt, emotionless captain. Well, at least there's somewhat of a personality resemblance with Levi.

When Levi had finally brought Kenny into custody, she thought she'd get some answers. But the man was as silent as a dumbbell, refusing to say anything until his hearing. She'd been watching him be interrogated by Levi and Erwin and hoping for a little slip about her family.

Where are they from? Why were they persecuted? Where is everyone else? Anything would suffice her need to know. It had been a good ten minutes before her legs got tired and the fluorescent light started to burn her eyes. She made a beeline for the exit and was met with the afternoon breeze of Ehrmich.

"Hey." She turned to meet the voice and was met with the two boys who were always by her side.

"You okay?" Eren said with a worried expression at her dejected face. Of course, her face remained neutral but with a simple glance, he could always understand what she was feeling.

"Yeah, I just...I finally found my...I don't know what they are and—" Mikasa looked down at the floor she stood, suddenly finding the cracks in the stone pretty interesting. "I want to know more about myself. You know, where I come from, what I am, who my parents were." Her voice cracked at the end.

She felt an arm wrap around her waist and pull her body into the side of his. She heard Armin shuffle to her other side and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Letting out a heavy sigh, Mikasa laid her head on Eren's shoulder.

She typically refused to think or talk about anything that involved her parents in fear of having the memory of that night replay in her mind. It still haunted her to this day though she wished it didn't. Not just her parent's death but the people she murdered. That was enough trauma to last a century.

Before she basked too long in the presence of her friends, a door opened only to reveal a stone-faced Levi.

"Ackerman." Mikasa quickly turned her head to salute her captain, feeling Armin and Eren do the same on either side of her. Levi waved them off and set his eyes on her. "You can try to get answers out of the bastard but I guarantee he won't budge. Good luck." Levi stepped aside to allow Mikasa to enter.

Hesitating, Mikasa strode through the door, hearing her friends shuffle in behind her. Making a left on the second door of the hallway she stood before the man who was her supposed "family". Her breath hitched when she saw him bloodied and bruised. Not that she had expected anything less, this has become the Scout's forte now.

Kenny lifted his head slowly, taking in the sight in front of him. He gave a wide, toothy smile and let out what seemed to be a laugh. "Really, kid? You gave up so you sent in the girl? I know I didn't raise a quitter."

Mikasa almost flinched when he yelled the last part. "I…" Mikasa pushed her shoulders back farther than they already were and made her face colder than it was before, "You're a part of the Ackerman clan. Tell me more about them."

"Heh. Not a lot I can tell you, kid. I don't know much more than you." Kenny spoke with a menacing tone, keeping his eyes firmly on her causing her to shuffle slightly on the balls of her feet.

"You don't know anything? What about where we're from? How we got scattered? What makes us able to do the things we do?" Mikasa almost sounded desperate. "Who we were? Just give me that much."

"Sorry. Beats me." Kenny smiled condescendingly and proceeded to look Mikasa up and down escalating her discomfort. "But...you do look familiar."

Mikasa's eyes narrowed at the outward thought. She'd never met him until now so what the hell could he possibly mean by that statement.

"Ah. I get it now. You're Linda and Jamun's daughter."

Mikasa tensed immediately. Her whole body stiffened and her eyes widened, the only indications that his words surprised her. "How did you—"

"You were the girls they were after. You know I dabbled in human trafficking myself, right Levi?" He nodded his head towards the expressionless man leaning against the wall next to the door. "A real doozy business. Quit after about 3 months. But for a short while, I became the commander. You know; calling all the shots, deciding who to kill and who to take."

Mikasa felt her fists clench and unclench repeatedly, trying to figure out where he was going with this whole spiel.

"I remember seeing the name 'Ackerman' on the list and thinking 'Huh, what a small world'. Honestly, I just wanted to test if these were true Ackerman's, you know? Strength and all. Of course my men, dumbasses I'll tell you, killed one too many. I asked the system the next morning why they gave me a group of incompetent shitheads and—"

"What are you saying?" Mikasa demanded, voice shaking.

Kenny seemed a little irritated at the interruption and looked at Mikasa through one not swollen eye like she asked the dumbest question ever. "My, my. You got one almost as dumb as you, Levi." Kenny smiled a menacing smile and gave Mikasa a look that sent chills down her spine. "I sent out the order to kill your parents."

Her feet went cold. Her heart started to beat hard against her ribcage that she thought it might bust out. There was a faint calling of her name from the hallway but she couldn't quite place the voice. She stood frozen in front of "The Ripper", his smile never wavering. Her nails dug into the palms of her hand as she tried to keep her composure but even she could feel her body trembling.

"Well, parent. Singular. Like I said those men were stupid as he—" Kenny didn't even get the full sentence out before a fist made contact with his face in record time and strength. A satisfying crunch filled the silence of the room. As soon as the first hit happened it didn't stop.

Punch after punch rained upon Kenny's body and with his hands tied firmly behind his back he was left defenseless. Usually, Mikasa was the calm one. She was always level headed and never one to fight unless it's needed. But something inside of her snapped. Either it was the careless way Kenny confessed to her parent's murder or the fact that this sick man was her relative; she had no idea. All she knew was that he was in front of her and he was punchable.

"Mikasa." She faintly heard Eren's voice caution her in the background but she didn't stop. The punches became faster and more forceful. She was blinded by rage, she didn't even notice Kenny loosening himself from his bindings.

She felt multiple hands attempt to pull her back but she shrugged them off with a strength none of them could attend to.

"Ackerman!" The commanding voice stopped her in motion, her fist suspended in mid-air. She turned her head to meet Commander Erwin's calm but serious eyes. "Leave."

Her fist throbbed as she slowly lowered her arm. The shaking in her body was less prevalent but still noticeable. Her face was etched in what seemed to be a dangerous scowl as she looked around the room.

She could feel everyone's gaze on her which only made her more uncomfortable. Armin gave her the same worried look he'd give Eren when he went off the rails. The concern that showed in Eren's face was almost alarming but she paid no attention to it.

Sparing one last glance at Kenny, Mikasa turned on her heels to leave the room. But before she could get too far, a strong hand grasped her wrist with an unyielding grip. The hand yanked her forcefully towards the body it was attached to and turned her so that her arm twisted painfully behind her back.

"Ah!" Mikasa let out a cry of pain as she wiggled to release herself but the hand only tightened more around her wrist.

It happened fast. Everyone stood straight in alert and turned their attention to Mikasa in a split second. Eren's eyes scanned the scene and narrowed in a frightening way.

"Now, now. Don't resist. It'll only hurt more. Right, Levi?" Kenny spoke, sadistically.

Mikasa struggled mercilessly against his grasp, almost releasing herself but Kenny simply reevaluated his grip and squeezed harder. Her strength wasn't going to get her out of this.

As for Levi, his eyes turned dark and colder than they already were. He was starting to get tired of Kenny addressing him as if he was still his caretaker. If you could even call him that.

Kenny was always one to have tricks up his sleeve. How had he not seen it sooner?

"Let her go," Eren growled, his eyes never leaving Mikasa.

"Aw, stop being so serious, kid. Learn how to smile." Kenny chuckled in Mikasa's ear. She nearly cringed at his breath.

Mikasa's wiggles became more violent but Kenny kept his hold firm. "She definitely has that Ackerman strength," Kenny muttered as he used one hand to try to keep Mikasa still and the other to reach into the back of his pants and pull out a syringe. The syringe was filled with a clear green liquid from top to bottom.

"Levi, you remember this? 'Only a true Ackerman with immeasurable strength can take this vial'," Kenny looked at the vial then shrugged. "Or whatever bullshit that bishop told me."

Kenny positioned the needle of the syringe inches before the skin of Mikasa's neck. Eren started to charge almost immediately at the older man but Levi pushed him and spoke first.

"What do you want?" Levi all but glowered at his Uncle. Huh. Never thought he'd be saying that.

Kenny's smile grew wider, showing his bloodied teeth. "Easy there, buddy. I just wanna see what the drug does. 'Course I'm not gonna test it out on myself. That would be dumb!" He moved the vial closer to Mikasa's neck. "Nah. Why not try it on someone I don't know."

"Wait!" Eren yelled. Kenny paused his movement. "Why does it have to be her? Can't you find someone else?"

"Sorry, but it has to be Ackerman blood that takes this thing, and unfortunately, no one else but me and my stupid nephew have it in this room. It's nothing personal. Just taking advantage of the opportunity I'm given...just like I taught you, Levi."

With that, Kenny plunged the syringe into Mikasa's neck. She jutted at the sudden insertion and scrunched her face in pain as she felt the liquid be injected into her body.

Loud noises of protest filled the room. Kenny had been ripped from behind her and shoved to the ground but the damage had already been done. He just laid there with a satisfied smile as guards began to point guns at his beaten body.

It was excruciating. The substance entered her and left a fiery, hot path as it passed through the blood in her body. Her knees buckled to the floor, suddenly feeling that her body was too heavy to hold up. The veins within her boiled beneath her skin and her senses became overwhelmed.

She suddenly became aware of every scent, every sound, and everything around her. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She didn't even notice how her bruised hands reached up to cover her ears and how a guttural scream ripped from her throat. Her eyes were scrunched shut in order to block out the dim light that illuminated the room, even with how dim it was it still blinded her. She heard her name get called repeatedly from the side of her as her back hunched over but it sounded so distant.

Her eyes flung wide open as she gasped for air that was all around but couldn't seem to be inhaled by her. Wavering on her knees, she slumped to the ground. Her eyes grew too heavy to keep open and the world spun around her.

Eren's face popped into her line of sight, the panic evident on his face. She could see his mouth moving but she didn't hear a thing. Suddenly too exhausted to keep up, Mikasa's eyes shut once again, finally succumbing to the darkness that enveloped her vision.

this was really fun to write! I'm not used to adding or rewriting plots and details like this tho so i'm not sure if it's good but i like it. hopefully you guys did too!

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 17: 1x23 The Omega Glory

Watched the very uneven episode “The Omega Glory” today. Upon some reflection.. I think I have seen it? But I think my last rewatch ended abruptly after “By Any Other Name” so it might have been some time ago.

Anyway, it was... something. Decent, I might even say good, until the last 10-15 minutes and then it just went off a cliff? That’s how I’d summarize it.

Sulu, my beloved. I’ve missed you.

Kirk knows where all the ships are. I mean, obviously, but I love to hear it.

Phasers on heavy stun huh?

It’s so weird to be on a different ship. That looks like the same ship. It’s so empty and haunted looking.

With creepy crystal remains of bodies everywhere.

“These white crystals... are the crew.”

Something was thirsty!! Perhaps... a water vampire? Perhaps... a former McCoy girlfriend?

(Honestly having watched the whole ep...they could have expanded this intro longer. It was creepy and mysterious. Then cut the last act.)

Oh no, they’ve been infected and now must quarantine. Sort of. I guess.

...Oh no, is this Vietnam? Again?

“Our old enemy, Vietnam.”

My mother suggested the disease might be communism and I don’t think that metaphor tracks through the whole episode but you know what.. anything’s possible.

I don’t like this whole “you can’t leave the planet or you’ll get sick and die” thing. Too familiar.

"I may never be able to leave this planet but I have a worse problem: a colleague may be breaking a rule."

Says the man who has frequently violated a directive that has never been referred to as Prime before.

Kirk is getting very mumbly. That’s his serious voice.... bu it’s also his Denny Crane voice lol.

Like bio warfare in the 90s? TOS really thought the 90s was going to be the dark ages, didn’t it?

Only 90s kids remember...

Spock bursting in with a wounded man, just bringing the drama, as he does.

He’s not even listening to McCoy. Rude.

Spock absolutely 100% would have killed Captain Tracey on instinct as soon as Kirk is threatened.

Sulu’s in command? I love Captain Sulu but where is Scotty?

Kirk is so good. Clever, strong, smart. Knows all the regulations.

Tracey’s so dumb. “They’ve eradicated disease and live for hundreds of years!” Man, have you considered that they are...aliens? And their life spans are simply.... naturally longer than human life spans? And even if you could isolate the serum, it might not work on humans?

And his master plan is to isolate their immunity and bottle it for profit. It’s our old enemy... capitalism and the exploitation of intellectual property.

A fight scene!

“The pointy-eared one stays.”

Another fight scene!

Spock is watching all of this, and you know what, I feel like he’s not upset about it. It’s just like Pre-Reform Vulcan. Perhaps some... Amok Time flashbacks? “Damn, I wish that was me.”

Peanut gallery Spock.

“I wish you could teach me that.” / “I have tried.” Omg where is my scene of Spock trying to teach Kirk the nerve pinch?

And then that look Kirk gives him.

I don’t get the point of this scene but it amuses me that as soon as McCoy sees the pretty girl, he feels better.

A post-apocalyptic alien world... a very interesting concept. Like you could do a lot with that idea imo.

“That’s our worship word [freedom too.” Umm.... questionable.

Damn bitch, that was cold. Just knocking him out like that.

Damn yankee.

...Yankee and Communist dammit.

McCoy’s not even surprised to see Kirk and Spock out of jail.

Nature created a natural counterbalance to the biological disease. Where is OUR natural counterbalance, I ask?

McCoy sounds extra Southern rn. It’s all the stress.

I really don’t think Shatner gets enough credit for his subtlety. His face when McCoy explains the whole situation...

Oh he's mad now. "You've hurt Spock for nothing! Oh yeah and also killed thousands but MOSTLY THE SPOCK THING!”

Whereas Tracey really doesn’t seem to care about anything but war for its own sake. He knows now that his master plan for immortality was nothing the whole time...but he still needs to call those Yangs.

In other words, another once-reputable figure of authority now gone mad.

Kirk’s voice is so casual when he’s talking to Uhura and Sulu, you feel like he’s gotta have something up his sleeve. He can never hide when he’s really upset about something.

...Apparently what he had up his sleeve was his crew knowing regulations and then another full body tackle. Fight scene 3!

"My need for attention is vital.” Same, Spock.

This is a very attenuated and unbelievable connection Kirk is making but he’s Kirk so I’ll assume it makes sense that he’s putting it all together so fast.

Alternate Universe: Vietnam canon-divergence lol.

For anyone keeping track, this is right about the point where the episode goes off the rails.

YOU’RE A ROMANTIC, JIM. Well he’s right about that at least and he should say it.

Oh no, an American flag.

Cloud William, chief and the son of chiefs. That’s continuity of government for you.

(Also pretty hilarious that this society is supposedly So American with our exact flag and Constitution and everything... but they’re not a democracy.)

I really don’t want to believe that “under God” is still in the pledge 200 years from now.

"You're confusing the stars with heaven." Kirk thinks he's being called an angel.

The absolute mishmash of meaningless, referent-free words here. America. Native Americans. Communists. The flag, the Constitution. God. Angels. Devils. What???

Like how can they both be flag worshippers AND...believers in God? Who is their God? Alien George Washington?

So rude to call Spock Kirk’s “servant.” That’s his space husband!

Is that a literal picture of Spock as a demon in their.. Bible?

I can’t even follow this anymore.

“You command him.” I mean...yes, that’s how the military works.

“He has no heart.” Wow, rude.

“His heart is different!” I stan one (1) Southern Doctor.

I feel like Spock is just... not having this at all. His face loos like he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Oh no is that the CONSTITUTION??!

“Kill his servant” wow Tracey is obsessed with Spock, isn’t he? I guess everyone in the Fleet knows about them and their special relationship.

Spock is even amused by the knife at his throat. His eyes say "I am distressed--but fascinated!"

A FOURTH fight scene? And here I thought Kirk was going to recite the Constitution.

“I’m open to suggestions.” He’s just as worried about Kirk as McCoy is, bu the doesn’t show it.

...Yep, he’s being telepathic again. Not really in line with his usual telepathy but okay. Alien magic is flexible.

Okay I have a JD and I can confidently say there is nothing about good defeating evil in the Constitution.

And now this alien guy is immediately ready to make himself a “slave.” That seems problematic. What happened to the holy word “Freedom”?

Wow, Kirk's in a bad mood. "You can't pronounce your own holy words worth shit."

“This is only for the eyes of a Chief,” he says and Kirk just pushes him away.

Spock literally turns Tracey around for Kirk’s big final speech like “Listen up, bitch, my boyfriend’s talking.”

Is this the 4th of July episode?? Feels like there should be canons and fireworks going off behind him rn.

Idk, the words of the Constitution can't be so unique and unprecedented if a WHOLE OTHER ALIEN CIVILIZATION just came up with them, too, on their own, like monkeys typing Hamlet. (Given the timelines here... they probably did it first too lol.)

"Liberty and freedom need to be more than just words." Like what does that even mean in this context? Sounds nice but it’s very hard to put into the context of all the rest of this.

“And uh be nice to the Kohms,” after most of them (?) were probably just killed.

I really was into this until the last 10-15 minutes and I think there were under-explored concepts that could have taken the fever dream of whatever that bizarre-o fever dream at the end was. The abandoned ship. The leftovers of bio warfare. The whole weird and under-explained concept of immunity. The tragedy that so much was destroyed,, including but not limited to the whole Exeter crew, for no reason. What happened to Tracey to so destroy him--was it just greed? What about the “Prime” Directive? Is it important or not. They just leave at the end after (as Spock pointed out) doing quite a bit of their own meddling, even though meddling is allegedly the worst. Also, we know almost nothing about the Kohms at all. The “American” society clearly wasn’t democratic. Were the Kohms literally Communist?

I’m willing to accept a certain degree of alternate Earth scenarios--like Miri (though imo that was not a necessary component of that story) or Bread and Circuses, but this was too much. TOO unbelievable. And frankly unnecessary. You could do an allegory for alternate-Vietnam, and it would be just as clear but even more effective. There wouldn’t be any distraction in the form of “what the fuck is that flag doing here?”

There is a potentially incendiary concept here, which is the same one I thought of reading about actual COG plans--certain aspects of the Yanks’ culture survives, but with absolutely no meaning attached. They have a Constitution but they mispronounce all the words. They have this tattered flag but it has no other meaning. They’ve turned the symbols of the government into a religion, but they don’t practice any of the civil aspects of it--they have chiefs, not democratically appointed leaders, for example. Like, COG asks “what IS the country, and how do you make sure the country endures no matter what?” This was an opportunity to show the worst of that: the country continues to exist as symbology only--incredibly strong symbology, but only that--and all of the actual values that were supposed to be stored with that symbology have disappeared. Similarly, their hatred of their enemies endures. It’s lauded in the ep as their attempt to get “their land” back but what if it’s just war for its own sake, as Tracey seems to be engaging in? To tell that story, especially in the 60s, against the backdrop of Vietnam, and with the references to bio warfare and nuclear warfare, could be powerful. And I know TOS can work in metaphor and comparison. It doesn’t need to bring out a literal fucking flag.

Honestly, it was like they had one good, classic, sci fi story but it didn't fill 52 minutes so they tacked on the American Pride 4th of July Propaganda Extravaganza at the end.

It really felt like the lesson was “America good” lol.

I liked the concept of the post apocalyptic society in the aftermath of bio warfare as a cautionary tale for 1960s America, and I'd be up for crazed snake oil salesman Starfleet Captain (or...whatever his rank was) if it were a bit better explained. But the rest of it....

It also... could have been kinda incendiary with the idea that the Constitution and flag are religious symbols... I mean some people do treat them that way and I've always found that, first, blasphemous, and second, bizarre in such a hyper-Christian country. But I feel like instead of digging ito that, they just tempered it with "But also they're Christian, as you can tell by their drawing of devil!Spock, for some reason."

Idk, this story could have been complete with out the whole weird “Vietnam AU” back story or alternately it could have been a biting commentary about what defines America, and about whether or not our symbols might be more enduring--or even more important to people today??--than the laudable but more complex and difficult ideals that underpin the country’s founding. Are the words of the Constitution just gobbledy gook? They are if you don’t live by them, and America has always struggled to do that. It definitely would struggle even more in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

...I’m more annoyed now, thinking about the possible sci fi story that could have been...

Anyway next is an ep I’m fairly sure I haven’t  seen, so that should be fun.

[phantom-of-the-keurig]

☆ Bitter Revelations ☆

Chapter 3: Hard Truths (Read it on Ao3 here)

………

The journey from Thrawn’s office to their newly assigned living quarters had been a silent one. Threepwood had splintered off at some point, muttering something about wanting to stop by the commissary. He hadn’t offered for Cody to join, and Cody hadn’t asked.

That was over two hours ago. Not that Cody minded. The silence was -

Who is Rex?

- unceremoniously interrupted by a series of beeps from across the room.

Cody sighed. “You’re supposed to be rebooting,” he replied pointedly.

Eve chirped mischievously. Cody didn’t bother to look up from the holophoto in his hand; he knew that Eve was probably already trying to creep away from her charging station. As sneaky as the little seeker droid thought she was, Cody could map her path across the room without so much as a glance.

Feigning indifference, Cody listened as Eve slid from the desk against the opposite wall and plopped onto the ground. Her tiny, durasteel legs padded across the floor as she quickly scampered behind the footlocker at the end of his bunk. He only had to count to three before she made a sudden break for the nearest leg of his bunk. He smiled, despite his sour mood, and Eve scampered up the rail like a kowakian monkey-lizard before landing with a soft thunk beside him.

Cody huffed. Eve released a handful of triumphant whistles and rewarded herself by pouncing onto his shoulder. In all reality, Cody had no one to blame but himself; he was the one that had decided using a BD unit as her foundation was a good idea.

They were called Buddy Droids for a reason.

Eve nuzzled his neck and fluttered around to get a better look at the photo in his lap. Who is that? she inquired with a slow, gentle blink of her eye.

“That one is Fives,” Cody said, holding the frame up with one hand and pointing with the other. “And that’s Echo.”

Eve trilled, one of her front most appendages reaching out to eagerly tap against another figure within the photo. Who is that? she repeated.

Cody sighed. “That’s me.”

His regret was swift and immediate as Eve began to laugh. The droid chirped and warbled as she bounced from one shoulder to the other; the white rim of her eye constricted to a tiny dot within the center of her orbital socket.

“Very funny.” Cody rolled his eyes, but there was no bitterness behind it. He had never enjoyed being laughed at, but for some reason found it endearing when Eve did so.

Perhaps the Cody of ten years ago would have thought such a profound friendship with a droid to be absurd, but the Cody of the present day was grateful for whatever companionship he could find- even if it came in the form of a bite-sized droid with too much loyalty and too little self-preservation.

It wasn’t like he had many options. Clones were incredibly social by nature, having been engineered from birth to depend on their brothers through the formation of close knit bonds. But he hadn’t seen another clone besides Threepwood in years, and none of the natural born troopers wanted anything to do with an old relic like him.

More often than not, Cody wondered why Threepwood even bothered to put up with him.

The gears inside Eve’s legs whirled as she tapped at his cheek once, twice, three times before Cody finally blinked. His brain fought to play catch up, having grown sluggish from his darker inner musings, as Eve pointed at the final figure within the photo.

Who is that?

“Rex,” Cody said softly. “That’s Rex.”

Who is Rex?

There it was again. That question Cody had no clue how to answer. Never mind to a droid; he had no idea how to explain it to himself. Did he answer with what Rex once was? A brother, a friend, someone Cody would have laid down his life for without a second thought?

Or did he answer with what Rex was now? How did he explain to Eve that Rex had been the subject of nightmares that had plagued him ever since the 332nd Company had been declared KIA? Was it even possible to explain that Rex had haunted him for over a decade, a shadow that lingered in the back of his mind and only emerged when Cody felt he had finally conquered his grief?

There was another answer he could give the droid, one that he still couldn’t wrap his head around; Rex was a traitor.

Cody gripped the edges of the holophoto so tight that the frame began to creak. Eve beeped in alarm. It was only when she began to pry at his hands that he came back to himself, the room spinning and his jaw aching from how firmly he had clenched it.

“Sorry,” Cody gasped, tossing the photo away as if it had burned him. It clattered against the floor and skidded beneath his desk. Cody scrambled further back on the mattress until his back met the wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

Okay? Cody okay? Eve will call Threepwood -

“No,” Cody barked. Eve locked up, the sudden stillness beside him making him flinch. Cody exhaled, counting backwards from ten in his head and extending his hands as he opened and closed his fists. “No,” he tried again, softer this time. He cleared his throat. “That’s all right Eve, I’m fine.”

Promise?

He nodded, still running through whatever vague breathing exercise he could remember from his training on Kamino. “Promise.”

Cody closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. He counted all the way up to one-hundred, and then did it three more times before he felt his heart start to slow. He felt defective, having to rely so heavily on a technique that was taught to cadets after their first live-fire simulation inevitably went wrong. He hadn’t needed it back in the war, not even when he found himself pinned beneath a gunship on Anaxes.

Anaxes. Rex. His chest constricted. Cody drew a shuddery breath and, reluctantly, began to count again.

………

Cody hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until the door hissing open made him jump. Threepwood paused, a ration bar in each hand, and titled his helmet to the side.

“Are you, uh - ”

“I’m fine.” Cody waved the other trooper off and rubbed at his stiff neck.

“Well, if you say so.” Threepwood shrugged.

Eve, sensing an opportunity, scurried away from where she had curled up beside Cody and charged at Threep. He yelped, swatting at the droid as she clambered up his armored legs.

“What the hell is this - ”

Before he could do more than just protest, Eve snatched one of the ration bars from Threep’s hand and retreated back to Cody. Like a loyal Massiff fetching a hover ball, Eve dutifully dropped the stolen bar on his lap. He smirked, and Threepwood glared.

“That droid,” Threep began, leaning against the frame of their bunk and brandishing his remaining ration bar like a blade, “That droid isn’t right.”

Cody refused to dignify such an accusation with a response. He had built EV-3 himself, and he knew she was perfect. Instead, he unwrapped the ration bar Eve had claimed for him and began to pick at it.

Threepwood groaned, and tossed his empty wrapper at Cody. “You’re impossible.”

Threep stormed off to the attached refresher. Eve beeped lowly, rounding on the wrapper as if it were a piece of prey. Clutching the offending item in her frontmost appendages, the droid quickly deposited it on the top bunk for Threepwood to later collect.

Cody patted the top of her head when she returned. “Attagirl, we’ll show him yet.” He scoffed, leaning forward to launch his own wrapper onto Threep’s bed. “Not right,” he muttered, settling back against the wall. Eve climbed onto his lap and he patted her head again. “Only thing not right is him. ‘S why they stuck him with me back on the garrison. Someone had to keep an eye on him.”

“Stars above,” Threepwood cursed from the ‘fresher. He popped his head out, having dressed down to the dark body glove beneath his armor. “Will you please stop talking to the damn droid?”

“I either talk to the droid or I have to talk to you,” Cody shot back.

Threepwood narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you’d rather chat with the droid than with me?”

“Absolutely.”

The look of disbelief and utter disappointment on Threep’s face almost made him laugh.

“That’s cold, Commander. Stone cold.” Threepwood’s face retreated back within the refresher, but his voice echoed back out. “I don’t remember you always being so ornery, sir. Maybe my memory has gone a bit wonky, but I could have sworn you were pleasant once upon a time.”

Threep’s use of Commander and sir, despite them being off duty, and the impish tone of his voice told Cody that his remark was meant in jest. This was the part Cody was supposed to grumble back something about how Threepwood had always been annoying, and Cody had never been pleasant.

But that wasn’t true.

Cody stilled, his retort stuck in his throat. Threepwood was right. He hadn’t always been so difficult to be around. And it hadn’t always been so unpleasant inside his own head. Back then, when the only other soldiers were clones like him, Cody hadn’t been known as a bitter, fractious Commander that would snap at the smallest of slights.

“Hey,” Threep was back beside him, nudging his shoulder. Cody wasn’t sure when he had got there. “I was just kidding, you know that … right?”

“Right, yeah,” Cody said softly. He rubbed at the back of his neck again, uncomfortable under Threepwood’s concerned gaze.

“I was kidding about the droid too,” Threepwood said earnestly.

“I know that, Threep.” His voice may have been sharper than he had intended, as Threepwood held up his hands in surrender.

“All right, okay, just - ” Threepwood sighed and pressed off the bunk onto his feet. “Just making sure..” He trailed off, suddenly distracted by something.

Cody dropped his hands from where they had been irritably rubbing at his face. He watched cautiously as Threepwood crossed the room and kneeled to pick something off the ground. It only took a moment for Cody to recognize it, and he groaned, falling back on his bunk.

He wasn’t in the mood for this conversation.

“Where did - ”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cody said. He held out his hand over the side of the bunk. “Just give it here.” When nothing appeared in his hand, and Threepwood failed to move, Cody snapped his head to the side and growled. “Threepwood.”

The other trooper looked entranced as he took in the holophoto that Cody knew by heart. Cody leaned up on his elbows and emphasized his open hand with an impatient shake.

“Threepwood,” he barked. “Give it to me.”

“I’ve never seen this before,” Threep murmured. It seemed to take an immense amount of effort for him to tear his eyes away. “Why haven’t you, I mean...are you supposed to still have this?”

“Are you going to report me, trooper?” Cody challenged.

Threepwood’s eyes went steely. He tossed the holophoto none too gently, and it bounced off Cody’s chest. “No, I’m not going to report you. Sure as hell like to, maybe then you could get your ass reconditioned and come back how you used to be.”

Cody wasn’t sure who threw the first punch. One moment he was launching himself from his bunk, and the next he and Threepwood were trading blows and knocking against the floor like a pair of feral cadets. He tasted blood in his mouth and something wet on his face, while the bridge of Threep’s nose looked like it had been shifted to the side.

It was Eve frantically shocking the hell out of them with one of her scomp links that finally drove them apart. Cody heaved and wiped at his face. His palm came back bloody. Eve danced about his feet, whimpering, and he immediately opened his arms for her to leap into.

Eve did no such thing. She cowered away from him, and then turned tail to retreat beneath the bunk. It felt like someone had shot a blaster at his heart.

What the hell is wrong with you?” Threepwood spat from the opposite side of the room. His arm was wrapped around his ribs, his shoulder pressed against the wall for support. “First you nearly have an aneurysm on Seelos, then you act like you’re about to take that blasted helmet and run in Thrawn’s office - ”

“Don’t - ” Cody hissed, but Threepwood ripped himself from the wall and marched forward.

“Shut up, shut up, I’m not finished!” Threepwood doubled over and wheezed. Instinctively, Cody reached out to steady him, but Threepwood slapped his hand away with a snarl. “And then, oh but this is the best part, then the Grand Admiral starts teasing some stupid plan about capturing Rex. And I’m thinking ‘oh this isn’t good, Rex is a traitor and all, but the Admiral wants us to bring him in so he can put him on display like a piece of art’. But you - !”

Threepwood lashed out, shoving Cody back against the wall. “You fell for it! Head over heels, there you went! Thrawn had you like a Hutt has slime and you didn’t even notice!”

“Notice what?” Cody shouted back.

“That after we bring the captain back, Thrawn is gonna string our sorry asses up and mount us on that wall right next to Rex!”

Cody bristled. His blood suddenly ran cold. “What exactly are you suggesting, trooper?”

Threepwood threw his hands up and groaned. “That we get the hell out of here, before we end up as some wall decoration.”

“That’s treason,” Cody whispered. He lurched forward, gripping onto Threepwood’s shoulders. “Listen to me, you can’t say things like that,” Cody pleaded, shaking Threepwood for emphasis. “It’s not our place to question the Grand Admiral’s intentions, and if someone heard you talk like that - ”

Cody paused as his throat began to close up. His eyes watered. He brought one shaky hand from Threepwood’s shoulder to rest against his cheek. “They’ll take you away, Threep. They won’t just recondition you, they’ll decommission you. And I - ” Cody shuddered and shook his head. “I’ve lost so many brothers already, Threep, I can’t lose you too.”

He bowed his head in shame, hiding the bitter tears that burned across his face, and waited for Threepwood to tear into him. But instead of another blow, or a revamp of Threep’s earlier ravings, Cody found himself crushed against the other trooper’s chest. He froze, petrified Threepwood was about to slam him into the ground, but his brother only continued to embrace him. Eventually, Cody’s brain caught up.

This was a hug. Threepwood was hugging him.

The realization only made him openly weep. He hadn’t hugged someone since he and Gree had said goodbye on Coruscant. Gree had died after that, and if hugging Threepwood meant he would die too -

“You’re not gonna lose me, Cody. I promise.” Threepwood was just as much of a mess as Cody was, and they made a sorry pair as they clung to each other, battered and bruised. Threep patted his head, and Cody winced. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Cody mumbled, feeling dead on his feet. “Since when do you hit so hard?” Threepwood actually threw back his head and laughed. Cody could only manage a lopsided grin.

“I dunno, I think you might just be getting old.”

“Shut up,” Cody groaned. “I’m only two years older than you.”

“Yeah, but you sure as hell have a lot more grey than me.”

Reflexively, Cody carded a hand through his hair. It was true, but it didn’t mean he liked it. “Shut up,” he said again, but nodded in the direction of the ‘fresher. “Go get cleaned up, yeah?”

Threepwood nodded and limped ahead. The moment the hydraulic door hissed closed, Eve waddled out from her hiding spot. Cody kneeled, and something twisted in his chest when the droid hurried to him but paused just outside of his reach.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said gently. “Guess we got carried away. Brothers fight sometimes, ya know?”

Eve pointed an accusatory pincer at his face. Okay?

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little bruised.”

Threepwood beat you up?

Cody scoffed. “No, Threepwood did not beat me up, thank you very much.”

There was a small hum as Eve’s internal processor mulled it over. Finally, she chirped, and shuffled closer. Eve saw. Threepwood beat you up.

“Okay, fine. He beat me up. He got me real good, see?” Cody put forth his best grimace and clutched his side. “Ouch - that really hurts.” When Eve still wasn’t convinced, he let himself teeter over to the side with a mock yelp.

His bluff paid off, and Eve flew forward. She crowded around his head, beeping unhappily as she poked and prodded at his face. The droid continued to scold him as she fetched a series of bacta patches from his locker. She made the perfect reluctant medic, and her fretting reminded him of-

Cody closed his eyes. Dwelling on his brothers wouldn’t do him any good. His brothers were all but gone. And, he thought darkly, even if they were around, they probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

Distantly, he hoped at least Rex would be happy to see him.

[itsreallylaterightnow]

Now All Our Memories (They’re Haunted)

Author’s Note:

Alrightyyyyy so here it is!!!

A painful one-shot!

This is an AU of Journey's End - the saddest Doctor Who episode ever

I hope you enjoy

Also, biggest thanks to @notapartytrickparker for being my incredible Beta!! You mean the world to me! <3

Peter grabbed a wrench from Tony’s bench and rolled his chair back over to his work table. May had a big charity event on Sunday, so Peter had decided to spend his weekend with Mr. Stark. The man had invited him over to help work on a car that he recently bought. It was a fixer upper, but that’s what the two loved about it.  

They would talk about life. Mr. Stark never seemed to be able to leave Peter alone when it came to talking about Michelle. He made jokes or teased Peter about kissing her. Peter would just blush – a bright and hot horrible blush. Then they would talk about college. Peter was a junior now, and closer to needing to make a decision than ever. He hated having to think about his future. Sure, he knew he was smart. He knew that he would regret it if he decided to skip out on college, but he loved to be Spider-Man. He loved swinging through the streets of New York, stopping kids from walking in front of cars and keeping peole safe on their walks. He wanted to stay in the city and focus on web-slinging. But between May, Mr. Stark, and Michelle – there was no way that was going to happen. The three of them agreed that he needed to experience college, to go and learn and be young. Mr. Stark pushed MIT, of course. The man would say how easily he could get Peter in. He would offer to pay his way completely, take care of May while Peter was gone. And he really wanted to. Peter desperately wanted to go to MIT and learn more, be challenged. The more he thought about it… well his chest would get all tight and his hands would shake, and tears would slowly fill his eyes. Because he had gotten a second chance. When Mr. Stark had snapped – Peter knew that he was going to die. Peter could hear Mr. Stark’s heart slowly fading out. Could feel the man’s life slowly leaving him, and it had crushed him. Peter was still having nightmares about that day. Stephen Strange had stepped in just at the right time. Doctor Strange and Shuri had rushed Mr. Stark to Wakanda, gotten to work healing the man. It took too long. There was a period of time – days that felt like years as Peter sat on a chair waiting for someone to come in and tell him that Mr. Stark hadn’t made it. That their attempts had been futile.

Then Shuri had come in, smile on her face. She had explained that they had done it. He lost his arm in the process, but she was already working on a replacement for it. He was awake and he was going to be okay.

And yeah, since then, the idea of leaving Mr. Stark, of not being right beside the man all of the time caused Peter to freak out. Because what would happen if he were in a life-or-death situation and Peter wasn’t there? He couldn’t be the reason Mr. Stark died. He wouldn’t let it happen.  

Peter was so caught up in his thoughts, that it took Mr. Stark physically shaking his shoulder for him to hear the alarms. His mentor had a strained look on his face.  

“Suit up,” he said, before tapping his chest-plate. Peter gulped before he reached for his backpack, ripping out his suit. He slipped easily into it, pressing the spider-symbol as the material tightened around his body.  

“What’s going on?” Peter asked as Tony stood still. “Shouldn’t we be going … well, wherever the fight is?”  

“We’ve got a ride coming. Listen.” The faceplate on Tony’s suit flipped up – his face wrought with hard lines, worry evident in his eyes. “This is going to be dangerous. Strange requested the both of us, but you stay out of the way. We’ve got a rogue sorcerer in the New York sanctum. He’s after the time stone – I swear on my life I’m sick of those damn stones – and Strange needs our help with this one. But you – you stay out of the way. Web him up from the side. Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to explain to your aunt that I got you shish-kabobbed on our lab weekend,” Tony teased, but Peter could feel the worry radiating off the man.  

“Got it. Stay out of the way. Web him up from the side. No big deal.” Peter was about to make another joke when his senses pricked.  

A gold circle formed in the lab, and Peter caught sight of Strange, a cut to his forehead and stress wilting his face. Tony flipped the faceplate down and nodded at Peter.

“Well, are you two coming or not? I don’t have all the time in the world, Stark.”  

“Well, technically you do-“

“Shut up and get in here.” Tony nodded, and the two jumped through the ring.  

Peter figured he never would get over the strangeness of being in one location and then suddenly being a completely new one, but he couldn’t think about that right now. The sanctum was a wreck.  

Ancient artifacts had been knocked over; glass was everywhere. Peter looked and saw that Doctor Strange was looking pretty terrible – it made sense that he called the two of them in.  

“What’s this guy’s deal?” Peter asked. They were on the top floor of the sanctum and Peter looked down the massive staircase to see the man in question.

“He used to be head of this Sanctum, surprise-suprise, he went dark side and he wants the stone for God-knows-what.” Strange’s voice was bitter as he prepared himself for the next attack. Peter nodded, as the man who had previously been on the floor forced himself to stand.  

He was tall and burly. His hair was greasy enough to make Peter think he couldn’t have showered in weeks. His eyes were dark – too dark. Like something was shifting behind them, an ocean in a storm – restless and unforgiving.  

“I… will get that stone.” He said, and then he was flying – literally – forward. Peter jumped onto the railing, shooting a web at the man. It connected with his shoulder as Mr. Stark shot out a beam. The sorcerer opened a portal and the beam went straight through it as Peter yanked down. The man began to fall, but he used a spell to create some strange glowy-sword and sliced straight through Peter’s web. Strange made his own… Peter really needed to think of a better word than “glowy sword”, but it was all he had now. The two met – face to face. Their weapons clashing in an onslaught of sparks. Tony and Peter gave one another a small nod – and they dove into the fight.  

The battle went on for too long. Logically, the three of them should have been able to take care of this sorcerer with no problem, but he was no second-rate wizard. He could open portal after portal, in such a precise way to catch Mr. Stark’s repulsor beams and Peter’s webs, and it almost rendered them useless. Strange was going hand to hand, but things weren’t looking good.  

Then things went from “not looking good” to “absolutely detrimental”. Because in one, swift move, the Sorcerer clocked Stephen in the side of the head with a glowing club. Doctor Strange dropped like a rock, hitting the ground with a thud that caused Peter’s heart to race.  

“Kid! Get the wizard away!” Tony cried, his voice robotic. Peter immediately shot a web, pulling Doctor Strange away from what would have been a deadly blow from the Sorcerer. Tony stepped in, throwing everything he had into the battle.  

Peter knelt beside Stephen, tapping the man’s face.

“Doctor Strange? Hey, um, didn’t your mom ever tell you it was rude to fall asleep when you’ve invited people over for a fight?” Peter opened his mouth to keep talking, but Stephen let out a grunt.  

“If you keep speaking, I’ll send you to Antarctica.” He grunted; his eyes still closed as his face twisted into a grimace.

“Yeah… I would last, like, two minutes – you know, spider DNA and all.” Stephen just grunted again.  

And damn himself because Peter should have paid attention. Damn himself because in no way should he have allowed it to happen. Because his spider-sense alerted him one second too late. And Peter turned and what he saw had him bending over in pain . Gasping because this was supposed to be a simple fight. It was one sorcerer. One. They had fought a mad Titan and his entire army, and they had won… so he should not be looking at Mr. Stark, gripping the sorcerer’s shoulders with a look of shock on his face. He should not be seeing the sorcerer holding a sword – found on the floor of the sanctum – punctured straight through Tony’s abdomen. He should not be seeing blood – too much blood – pouring into the room.  

But he was. And it was happening, and he wanted to scream at Doctor Strange to fucking GET UP!  

“Mr. Stark!” But the man didn’t look at him.  

And Stephen was still down, sporting a profusely bleeding head wound, his eyes closed. Peter knew that he wasn’t going to be any help right now. And Peter, for the first time, was noticing that the time stone had been knocked loose from its hold.  

Peter had started to pride himself on his decision-making skills. Sure, he still made poor choices, and got in trouble on the regular – but he really wasn’t as stupid as he used to be. He didn’t throw himself in the way of every harmful being coming at him.  

But this was different.  

Because Mr. Stark was on the ground now, and Peter could hear his gasping breaths and his heart slowing – and he could not do that again. The sorcerer was looking at him now – his eyes black with rage. Peter wasn’t much of one for violence. He used webs in order to keep from killing people, he did his best to pull his punches… but not right now. Now was the time to make his punches hurt.

The sorcerer lunged forwards, but Peter was faster. He grabbed the stone, his arm screaming as the pain began to unravel. He had watched Strange use the stone over and over again – he had seen Mr. Stark almost die when he wielded all six, and honestly – Peter had no desire to suffer the curses that the stones gave out. But he would not let Tony die again – not on his watch.  

The sorcerer smirked as he came at Peter with the sword – still dripping with Mr. Stark’s blood.  

Peter felt the stone then, although it didn’t speak to him, it provided a sudden wave of clarity that made him certain of what he had to do.  

He pulled the Time stone back and snapped his fingers – just like Tony had. The exact thing that Mr. Stark had done that had almost gotten him killed. And Peter understood that – if he lived – Mr. Stark would officially murder him, but he didn’t care. Honestly, Peter didn’t just do it because of Mr. Stark – who was still bleeding out – he did it because that sorcerer could not get ahold of the stone. He could ruin the world.

The snap resonated in his ears.  

But the sound wasn’t what stuck with him.

It was what he saw.  

Galaxies and murals and stars and all of time and space laid out before him. He saw the realities that Strange had seen. He saw how it could have played out, the devastating things that could have happened. He understood why Strange had allowed Mr. Stark to do what he did. He could see everything. Things that he never would have understood before. He could see all of the realities that he could have had – ones where his parents lived. Ones where Ben lived. He felt his mind wrapping in on itself – warping in and out like a kaleidoscope of ever-shifting colors.  

Then there were hands on him – strong hands that he knew.

Peter blinked and the galaxies vanished.  

“Peter! Peter – God, sit down kid!”

Peter just shook his head – his mind felt like it was running on a conveyer belt. Constantly bringing him new knowledge, overflowing the bin. Like every single idea was piling on top of one-another until he couldn’t breathe – couldn’t think.  

“PETER!” He snapped out of it.  

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He muttered.  

“Mr. Parker – please sit-” He shook his head, grabbing Tony’s arms.  

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” Peter asked - his voice a grain of sand shifting on the shore.

Mr. Stark just shook his head. “I’m fine – you idiot. I’m fine. You – fucking fixed that. Now, listen to the Doctor here.” Peter nodded, Strange stepping up to him, his eyes flaming with worry.  

“Peter, how are you feeling?” His voice was low.  

“I feel… fine.” Peter said, and honestly, he did. His mind was filled to the top with knowledge – overflowing with knowledge.  

“Your head? How does your head feel?” Strange asked, his voice persistent.  

“I feel fine. The stone opened my mind – it’s better than it has ever been.” The waves crashed against the shore. His mind was running on voltage – too high. Overloading – something was popping in his head - like he had touched a transformer box. Liquid dripped down his lips. It was iron and metal and sharp, and he didn’t like it.  

“Peter, pay attention. I need you to focus on me right now.” He let out a deep breath and looked up at Strange.  

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.” Peter said, his voice felt like it was stuck, like he couldn’t stop speaking even if he tried to. Someone squeezed his shoulder – too tight. His winced looking to see Mr. Stark, worry etched into every line of his face.  

“Peter, calm down buddy. We’ve got you, just calm down.” Mr. Stark’s voice - calm. A gentle breeze rustling through tall grass.

The lightning struck again – a blinding pain and he winced. His knees felt weak… they weren’t working.  

“Do you know what’s happening?” Strange’s voice cut through the noise, cut through the pain and the blinding –  

“Yeah.” He muttered… thinks he muttered. Because he knew that his mind wasn’t meant to handle this. He knew too much – more than his brain could take. Like charging an AA battery with a car battery. The input was too much.

“There has never been someone who could use the Time stone – use the Time stone without training. Do you know why?” Strange’s voice was filled with dread. Peter just nodded, a rush of water flaring through his soul.

“Because it’s too much. It re…reveals too much.” Peter responded and Strange gave a soft nod. Another lightning strike – more water flowing out of … the taste of iron. Firm hands on his shoulders.

“You know what I have to do?” The Doctor asked. Peter nodded once more – not understanding why-how he knew, but he did.  

“What – what do you have to do?” Tony asked, his voice terse. Peter felt like a tree – hurricane winds too strong as they pulled and tugged and pushed. Threatening him down.  

“I have to -Stark I am truly sorry. I need to remove his memories of these events. If I can get rid of the knowledge, he has that this happened – then all of the certainly overwhelming knowledge that is residing in his head… it will be like folding it into a box, tucking it away in a corner. If he doesn’t remember this, he won’t know the box is there to open. He’ll be safe.” And Peter blinked as he saw Tony shaking his head – fear, worry, dread.  

“Seeing you will only open the box right back up. We have to erase the fact that you two met, keep you apart so we can keep his brain together.” Strange said, and his voice was soft.

“No – no way. You will abso-fucking-lutely not erase his memories! I-” Tony surely would have continued to rant but the winds were too strong. Peter’s roots snapped; he was a tree falling. Towards the ground … the tile… the

Someone caught him, and he was being held up against a wall, voices that he couldn’t comprehend because there was too much .  

“Stark, if you don’t want him to die, then you have to let me do this. His mind is shutting down – his body is shutting down.” And Tony must have seen it, in the way the leaves were shaking, he must have seen it. Because he gave Strange a nod. The same nod Strange had once given Tony.  

Strange lifted his hand - and suddenly Peter was done with this idea. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to forget the times he had.

He didn’t want to forget meeting Mr. Stark in his apartment. Webbing him to the door out of fear for Aunt May finding out. He didn’t want to forget Germany, or the argument with Tony that had pushed him into becoming something better. He didn’t want to forget lab nights, meeting Pepper. He didn’t want to forget staying at the tower and the first time he and Mr. Stark had watched all of the Star Wars movies together. He didn’t want to forget taking a fake internship photo after Mr. Stark had insisted it would shut Flash up. As strange as it sounded, he didn’t want to forget going to space. He didn’t want to forget dying or coming back. He didn’t want to forget any of it. He didn’t want to.  

“I want to stay.” Peter stated indignantly, ignoring the blood that dripped from his nose, a waterfall of pain and dread. His head pounded like a river breaking on the shore over and over and over again. He could feel it. The energy that was racing through his bloodstream. His mind was a supernova. Flashes of lights and stars and images of things he had never seen – things he could never understand. Time warping around his consciousness, bending his thoughts into an everlasting loop. He felt the world at his finger-tips and he wanted it to go away. Like a black hole coming to wrap around him as he tried to claw his way back to the surface. Peter took a ground shattering breath – the earth’s plate shifting every time he inhaled. “I was going to be with you… forever.”  

Tony was crying now – a waterfall cascading down his face. Peter suspected he was doing the same thing.  

“Look at me. Peter, look at me.” He didn’t want to. But he did. Lifted his eyes – the earth. Looked into Mr. Stark’s coffee and motor oil and love.  

“I want to stay with you.” Peter whispered. “The rest of my life… stay with you – saving the world. I don’t want to forget all of this. Who will I become?” His voice was barely a whisper as Tony nodded.  

“I know. But you will be exactly who you are. Exactly as good as you are.” Tony’s hand rested on the side of Peter’s head, his eyes holding the sadness of a lonely ocean. “Peter. God, kid, I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” And they had. They really had.  

Then someone’s hand was on his head – Strange.  

“No –“ He wanted to fight, but trees without roots have no means of staying upright.  

“The best. Goodbye.”  

“No – no – no – no!” He didn’t want to go.

And like being struck by an unbeatable force – into a black hole of time and space and gravity – his entire world shifted into darkness.

-

Peter wouldn’t remember what happened. He wouldn’t remember why May was crying when he walked out of his room from where he woke up on his bed. He asked her, but she just told him that it was private. He would just go about his day, telling May that he was going to go out as Spider-Man. That made her cry harder, but she just nodded. Peter dropped open his trap door, his onesie falling out and he grinned, pulling it on.  

He would spend the rest of his life feeling like he was missing something. He would go on to study Biomechanical Engineering at MIT, on some weird scholarship May had put him in for. It was called the IS Scholarship, and Peter had tried researching it, but nothing came up. He just knew he wasn’t spending a dime to go to school, and he was happy about it.  

Peter felt as though there were this… gaping hole in his head. It was the same feeling he always got when he got a concussion – like a hole in his memory that he didn’t know how to fill.  

And every once in a while, he would feel as though that hole were filled. He would catch a glimpse of a man. A man standing off just out of reach. He would always be in a hat and sunglasses, a coat pulled tightly up to his chin, hiding behind the corner of a building. Peter would find him staring – stock still. Sometimes it felt as though they were locked. A magnet drawing nearer to itself. But every time Peter tried to grasp it – every time he walked forward; he would get there a second too late. A cat and mouse game in which he somehow knew that he would never catch the man. He would never be able to fill that hole.  

Peter caught himself looking forward to those moments… it was almost like a glimpse into his – past? That didn’t make sense, sure. Because as far as his memories made known, he had never seen that man in his life.  

But Peter Parker would never be able to deny, seeing that man felt like home.  

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Dearest Sympathies

Lilies are symbolic of the soul of the departed and hope of the renewal process. With the divorce looming and their fight for Camille pushing forward. There will be no turning back

Warnings: Swearing, Premonition of Death, Physical Violence

Chapter List:

Chapter 1: Enough

Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

Chapter 3: Band of Brothers

Tag list: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @lorircreates @desireepow-1986 @liam-rhys @rafasgirl23415 @speedyoperarascalparty @rainbowsinthestorm @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @itslaniquelove @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject @kimmiedoo5​

Patience was something that Leo became extremely well accustomed to when he had become a parent. He could wait all day for one of his daughters to crack but this seemed a little more fun. Within moments of his speech finishing, his phone vibrated in his blazer pocket, it was Isabella. “How dare you Leo!” she screeched, “I can’t believe you would do that! You told Matéo you’d call a conference tomorrow... not this evening! And why the hell did you future date the paperwork?! This does not need to be dragged out for any longer than is required” Leo lips curled upwards into a mischievous smirk, “Who tipped you off? It was only the main Cordonian news channels there...” Isabella growled, “Why the hell does that matter?! It should have been you telling me anyway!” Leo moved his phone slightly from his ear as Isabella kept screaming and cursing him out. Leo chuckled to himself pissing Isabella off even more, “If it wasn’t for fucking Maxwell calling me, I wouldn’t have known!”

Leo rolled his eyes, “That’s interesting...” he calmly replied, “Very... very interesting...” Isabella raised her brow as she wedged her spoon angrily into a vat of Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, “Why is this interesting?! Is our marriage just a game to you?!” Leo leaned against the wall as he carefully studied those around Liam, watching as they fawned over him, “Quite the opposite kitten... I’m surprised he did call considering he said to me earlier today he hasn’t spoken with you since Nico was born...” Tucking her hair behind her ear, Isabella’s tone quickly changed; her pitch went higher as she questioned him, “No, what do you mean?! I spoke with him a few days ago?...” Leo’s heart sank, “Listen to me Kitten... don’t trust anyone right now. This conversation never happened ok? Please promise me that you’ll not repeat this to anyone?” Isabella rolled her eyes angrily, “You are seriously fucking losing it Leo!” before hanging up the phone. “Bella!” Leo angrily barked as he heard the phone beep. “Fuck!”

Rubbing his face with his hand, Leo sighed heavily attracting Liam’s attention, “Brother!” He called towards him, beckoning him forward, “Come... after that conference; you look like you could do with a drink...” As Leo moved forward into the group that included Maxwell, Drake, Olivia and Hana, Liam put his arm around his shoulder affectionately, “An evening of Bourbon, Scotch and Cigars is called for...” Leo raised his brow towards Liam, “Maybe a quieter evening... it’s not every day you get divorced. I don’t feel like much company...” Liam nodded understandingly, “Of course... sorry I...” Leo chuckled, shaking his head, “Brother you don’t need to say sorry, it’s something that happens...” Leo slowly began to smile, “I’ll just need to get a damn good lawyer, Isabella better not steal them like she stole my goddamn accountant!” Liam patted his brother’s back laughing “I’m sure that can be easily arranged...” Later that evening, Leo walked out onto the veranda from the drawing room. Setting his tumbler of bourbon onto the sandstone railing, he reached into his blazer jacket taking out a cigar and his cutter. Nipping the end, he struck his zippo, fanning the flames of the gas at the bottom to toast the foot, turning it a few times before he allowed to cigar to light. With a few gentle puffs, Leo instantly calmed by the elixir of nicotine and alcohol.

“Leo...” Liam spoke quietly as he and Drake entered the Queen Mother’s drawing room towards him on the veranda. “It’s not like you to dwell...” Leo turned and seeing Liam and Drake he smiled, “Contraire dear Brother... I just needed a distraction...” Drake looked at Leo, then to Liam confused, “What?” He exclaimed, “You’re distracting yourself with the same thing we were going to do anyway?” Leo shook his head, “No Drake...” he took a long drag of his cigar,

“I didn’t want Beaumont here...” Drake raised his brow, “But Beaumont said he hadn’t?!” Leo raised his finger towards Drake chuckling, “Young Padawan... listen and learn... I told Matéo the press conference to announce the divorce was tomorrow in order to give Isabella time to plan... Isabella called me moments after I stepped off that podium to tell me that a particular someone in your inner circle...” he pointed towards Liam, “...called to tell her that I announced it this evening... that was Maxwell Beaumont...” Liam’s eyes widened in horror, “No... I...” as Drake quietly smiled to himself, “You sneaky bastard... I knew Beaumont was a fucking snake...” Leo nodded, “He’s been in contact with her for a while... and now with the divorce in play, we can get Maxwell... and once we do... then we should have more answers...” Leo raised his glass to the two men stood in front of him, “eis igían sas...”

Isabella was miserable. Every night she scanned through all the pictures on her phone that she kept; tonight she tried to take her mind off things watching one of her favourite telenovelas, ‘Amor en la vida o la muerte’ eating as much chocolate as she could physically stomach. During the day she could be strong and independent but in the evenings, the gravity of the situation haunted her. As one of the male leads whispered into the damsels ear, “Te amaré por siempre...” Isabella screamed at the television, “Liar!!!” as tears began to tumble down her cheeks. Matéo’s husband Dima upon hearing the scream went in to check on her, “Darling...” he sat in the edge of of the bed, taking her into his embrace as Isabella put her arms around him wailing in tears, “This is all my fault!” the young Queen wailed into his shoulder, “No honey... no...” he brushed her hair with his hand gently, “Come... no man is worth those tears... That beautiful husband of yours will come to his senses eventually...” Isabella raised her head, her dark chocolate brown eyes glistened as she blinked back her tears. Her long dark eyelashes fluttered in hope as she sniffed, “You really think so?” She knew Dima would tell her the truth whether she liked it or not - may that have been her love life or texting her to start doing squats as her ass looked flat as she walked a televised red carpet for a gala dinner. He was brutal but she appreciated the honesty. Dima was the company she needed right now, he was carefree and had no political gain or wealth from the Laurentian Queen’s pain; Dima and his Russian oligarch family has more wealth than the Laurentian and Cordonian kingdoms combined for him to care.

Her brother in law smiled sweetly to her, “You know he adores you, no?... This makes me...” Dima began to sigh, “...I... I shouldn’t...” Isabella leaned forward, tilting her head slightly, “Please... I welcome any counsel right now...” Dima waited for a second, running his tongue across his teeth as he thought, “Bella, something is not right y’know? I spoke with Matéo before his flight. He said things felt a little weird when he met Leo... he was being obstructive for no reason...” Isabella’s brow raised slightly remembering the conversation she had with him today, ‘This conversation never happened...’ and why Maxwell lied to him ran through her head. Nodding, Isabella agreed, “Yeah... it does seem...” she began to trail off as the cogs in her head began to turn, “a little off...” It had dawned on her, there was a lot more at play here than a simple ending of their marriage but why was Leo being so cagey? “How about this...” Dima began to smile as he popped open a bottle of champagne, handing the petite monarch a glass, “After this... we get a yacht like the old days, you know we look fabulous with a tan... and window shop to look at the nice boys...hmm?” Isabella took a sip of her champagne before biting down on her lip giggling, “I’ve never seen you with a real tan before...” Dima pouted his lips jokingly, “You’re lucky you’re gorgeous...” Isabella smiled as she rested her head onto Dima‘s shoulder giggling, “You’re such a dick but I love you and... thank you...”

“So what’s the plan...” Drake wearily rubbed his dark stubble, as he, Liam and Leo sat huddled around an open bottle of whiskey. Liam was deep in thought as Leo interjected, “We need to be careful, we need the element of surprise...” Liam nodded in agreement, “We can’t go looking for Maxwell... we need to get Maxwell to come to us...” Liam’s steel blue eyes darted between Leo and Drake, “We can’t allow ourselves to show complacency right now; Riley and Sienna must not know...” Drake leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing, “What about Isabella?” Leo ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, “Isabella and the kids will be ok, her Head of Security will make sure of that, Beaumont’s family - he wouldn’t attempt...” sighing heavily, Leo turned to Liam, “It’s Sienna I’m worried about... She’s always been so outgoing...” Liam lowered his head, his shoulders dropping, “Yeah... she hasn’t been the same... Camille was her world...” Drake patted Liam’s shoulder looking at Leo, “and yours... we’ve gotten so much further in the last few days than in months...” Leo raised his brow as he stared directly at Drake, “Liam, why don’t you and Sienna go to Valtoria for a few days? Drake and I can do the necessaries...” Thinking of the times where Maxwell and Bertrand made out they were on his side, letting Liam and Sienna FaceTime with Camille and then giving updates only rubbed salt in a gaping wound. This was something that Liam couldn’t nor wouldn’t overlook. They’ve messed with his family for the last time. Raising his head angrily, his eyes burned with the deepest hatred that he found in his soul. Teeth clenched, Liam was seething, “No! I will torture him to an inch of his fucking life - and that will be only a scratch on the pain that Sienna and I have endured every second of every day! When I get my hands on Barthemely....” Leo had a mischievous glint in his eye as he menacingly smiled knowing Liam had finally broken. It took a lot for Liam’s kindness to be overshadowed; a lot from him to be driven to despair and as his anger had finally consumed him, Leo nodded, “It’s time to prepare...”

Isabella closed her eyes the next morning, holding her breath as she walked through the parlour. Each step was like a drill going off in her brain. She was so hungover, biting down on her lip trying to distract herself from the flower bouquets that lined the Palace entrance, “What...” she slowly began to turn a shade of green, her brow raising as she questioned Jimena, “What the hell is all of this?!” The Queen’s most trusted friend began to smile, her grin made Isabella slightly uncomfortable as she exclaimed, “Now the world knows about your d-i-v...” Isabella sighed heavily as she rolled her eyes, “Yes... and?” Isabella looked at some of the notes that were attached. “My bed isn’t even cold yet...” she clicked her tongue but her interest was quipped as she noticed a particular bouquet filled with perfect powder white lilies. Lilies were not exactly known to be good omens in Laurentia. They were funeral flowers and never were to be presented otherwise. Her eyes narrowed as she opened the envelope hesitantly, her eyes immediately were drawn to the font, ‘Dearest Sympathies on the death of your husband...’ She dropped the card immediately screaming, “Where did these come from?!” Turning to Jimena, her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights, the petite brunette was terrified, “Jimena?!” Isabella screeched wanting answers. Jimena shrugged her shoulders, “They were delivered here earlier this morning... what is wrong with you?! You should be flattered you have so many admirers...” Jimena walked over as Isabella stood shaking picking up the card. Her dark eyes rolled to the left towards Isabella as she placed her hand over her mouth, “Oh my goodness...” Isabella shook her head, “Get these out of my home...” Jimena tried to smile, “It could have been a genuine mistake?” The young Monarch’s almond shaped, dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed and with her teeth clenched she barked, “Do I need to repeat myself, burn it all! No! No!” Maybe Leo wasn’t losing it after all.

[skznct127treacting]

My Stalker - Bang Chan (1/4)

October. A time for endulging in whimsicals fancies of corporate candies, horror movies, spooks that are camp and creeps that are chilling and for your small town - the Halloween carnival. The carnival had been a tradition for as long as you could remember, coming for the weeks leading up to Hallowe’en, with the main attraction being a haunted house - the likes of which had won numerous TV awards for being one of the scariest attractions in the country, with it being particularly popular amongst your age pool - adolescents and young adults.

You, yourself had never been. Perhaps it just wasn’t something of interest to you, or perhaps you were, like all your friends said - scared. What was there to be scared of? Well a lot. There’s a clown room for one, a maze room with a masked chainsaw man chasing you, a serial killers basement… need I go on? 

Regardless. This year. The year of 2019, was slightly different. Because one of the scare actors had caught your attention. Bang Chan. He had started the year late, but had somehow managed to weasel his way into your classes course. He was reserved and quiet, kept to himself mostly. He sat at the front of the class and was always early, he didn’t volunteer much but got 100% on almost any test he took. When people tried to engage with him he would laugh and be sarcastic and cynical and look at them with such intensity that you could swear he was burning a hole right through their skull - it was a look of superiority and confidence. Most people didn’t see that though, they just took his jokes at face value, but there was something cutting about them, something with an aura of uncomfortable truth to them.

He favoured dark clothes, sportswear mainly, he had an athletic build and was constantly slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually was. 

The first week you didn’t talk to him much, not having a reason to, but then the most peculiar thing happened. A week after he arrived you broke one of your pencils in your bag, it must have been crushed by your lunch, or your water bottle, or the endless notepads and folders you carry. Regardless, you put it on your desk intending to bin it after class but forgot to pick it up. 

The next day however, after class ended Chan pulled you to the side just as you were leaving, as you felt his heavy hand on your shoulder and turned to see he had your pencil - perfectly fixed and glued together, so meticulously that you couldn’t even trace the cracks.

“You should be more careful Y/N,” He teased, in his charming but acidic way as you stood there confused and unable to process why he had done this for you.

“Is this my pencil from yesterday?” You asked rolling it between your fingers, surely he had just bought another one or given you a spare. Which was equally weird, but hey it was a more logical explanation.

“What? No?! I fixed it for you Y/N,” he said - drawing out your name again as though enjoying the way it tasted. “I’ve seen you use that one a lot, it’s a pretty cool pencil with the sparkles and rainbows. It’s cute.”

Now your face had been peppered with a pink blush, the strange compliment leading your wave of confusion to be overlapped with that of fluster. 

“I’m Chan by the way,” He said loudly as though intending for you to hear his name. To remember it. You already knew his name of course, having been curious about him for some time. Your friends had done the whole social media stalk and found his facebook page filled with pictures of nights out with his friends, photos at the beach, his dog, his soccer activities. Your friends Josie and Eve were already in relationships though, and having seen the slight gleam in your eye when looking at his pictures - well, they both tried to push you into speaking to him. 

“Oh well nice to meet you. I saw you moved halfway through September, that must have been tough for you. How are you settling?” You asked putting the pencil in your pocket staring up at him only to look away, as though his bright glare was like that of the sun.

“It’s been alright so far, I’ve managed to catch up with classes,” He shrugged moving restlessly from side to side. “Well some of them…”

“I thought you were doing really well all things considering you seem to be getting full marks.” You smiled at him, and for the first time you saw his smile, as he beamed back at you. It was the type of smile that lit up his face and made him appear less intimidating, it was at this exact moment that you felt your heartbeat jump.

“Yes well from speaking to people everybody says your the best at this module, which isn’t surprising, I mean the only times I’ve seen you outside class you’re always in the library studying,” He said still with that charismatic smile, his movements becoming more animated, it was like as though for the first time you were meeting the real him. Of course this second outburst of compliments only deepened your rouge cheeks to scarlett.

“I mean I know some of it but-”

“Well if I ever get stuck I know who to come to for tutoring. Besides your in my debt now,” He smirked looking down at the pocket you had put your pencil in. “Well I’ll see you round Y/N~”

And as he set off the oddest thought crossed your mind… how did he know your name? I mean you had found his out through him telling it to other people when he introduced himself but he had never witnessed no such interaction on your part. He didn’t even sit near you. And what was with the pencil? Who does that?? Why??? Why does he need help? Why did he arrive late to school? All the while your head felt light, dizzy with the interaction, you had never acknowledged his looks and charm for yourself before, you had never felt like this before, nobody had taken such notice of you before. All the while Chan’s footsteps paced the hallways growing lighter, his smile widening, for he knew all the answers to your questions. 

That had been the first interaction, and after you had told Josie and Eve they brushed off the whole pencil thing as creepy, along with him, he was a creep, and they took back every good word they had ever said about him. The three of you were out that day, rummaging through shops for a decent Hallowe’en costume, it may only be the start of term but everybody’s mind was on the Monsters Bash on the 31st October which your school was running, it was to be an outside ball on the sports field with marquees and fairy lights and bunting, cheap alcohol would be provided along with Hallowe’en candy and students were already planning where they would pre drink and where the after parties would be and the buzz was only intensifying as the event neared.

“Slutty witch, slutty nurse, slutty cat, slutty clown… huh slutty scooby doo,” Josie rattled as she sorted through the outfits on the railings. She was a tall girl with a lithe build, long brown hair, pale skin and with an effortless beauty that you envied, she could make anything look stunning. Even a slutty scooby doo costume. 

“Imagine how many people are going to go as the Joker this year,” Eve said, rolling her eyes as she stood on the opposite side of Josie, she was the shortest of the three of you with dyed red hair that was constantly in some type of complicated braid, with her sweater sleeves always pulled over her hands and her shoes always a worn out pair of black converse. 

“I know! I’ve already had to persuade Jack that we’re are not going as Harley and the Joker, I upset him, and now we’re not doing a couple costume anymore.” Josie pouted.

“Same!! Me and Daniel couldn’t agree, I’ve told him for the millionth year that I’m not dressing up as Sally and Jack. It’s just so unoriginal.” Eve shot back with equal passion.

You stood there unable to contribute to such talk of relationships as your mind swirled to thoughts of Chan, what would he dress as this year? Would he even attend the Bash, did he even have anybody to go with? Like sure he had friends, but he didn’t have friends that he could go with. The thought of inviting him crossed your mind, but that was wayyy too ahead of yourself, but perhaps, if you talked to him more and got closer maybe you could go together. Maybe for once you wouldn’t be the 5th wheel in your friendship group.

“What are you going to go as Y/N?” Josie said pushing all the clothes on the railing to one side in dismay as you left the shop.

“Hm I’m not sure yet,” You said pausing your train of thought on Chan.

“Well I got an idea looking at that scooby doo costume.. how cute would it be if we went as the Hex Girls from that show, we can have our own couple costumes,” Eve piped up as Josie shook her head.

“No way! Who's going to get that reference?” Josie replied.

“Erm.. the intellectuals!” Eve laughed. “And if we don’t win best costume, I’ll literally sue the school.”

“So you’d be Luna, I’d be Thorn and Y/N can be Dusk?” Josie said, slightly coming round to the idea.

“Oh my god it’ll be soooo cute!” Eve gushed as you just nodded your head. 

So that was that on October 31st 2019 you and your 3 friends were going to the Monsters Bash as a 90s goth girl group from Scooby Doo, if that didn’t win round Chan.. what would??

Well after that shopping trip at the weekend Monday rolled around. It was the first day that you’d see Chan again since your class together on Thursday and you had spent the whole weekend playing out scenarios in your head like a bad fanfic. When you arrived to class you were surprised to see he hadn’t arrived yet which was verrry unusual for him so you sat in your usual seat towards the back and began to unpack your stuff. Too focused on this activity you had barely noticed somebody come and pull a seat next to you as you looked up to see Chan.

It may be because you had gotten a crush on him but damn he was looking way more handsome than you  thought he was. His dark eyes glanced at you as his dark brown hair, had been dyed a sludgy green over the weekend which was the first thing you complimented him for, it framed his face differently to his blonde hair, made him seem even more mysterious and alluring, his cheekbones more defined, his jaw sharper, his hair cut shorter slightly as you noticed several ear piercings down his ears. 

“Good morning Y/N,” he said cheerfully, although you could see how tired he was from the shadows under his eyes and a sheepish paleness to him.

“How was your weekend?” You asked, only thinking now that maybe it was a bit forward that he had just sat next to you today, with it being the only day he had been late, but those thoughts were pushed out with concerns for him and thoughts of his looks and your curiosity and- and- and-

“It was decent. I had a lot of practice to do though. I somehow managed to get a job at the ghost house and we’ve been doing rehearsals all weekend,” He said slamming his notebooks onto the table next to yours. You noticed him pull out a little red notebook by accident which he quickly shoved to the bottom of his bag which he kicked to the ground and under the desk. “What about you?”

“Oh that’s so cool. I’ve never been to the ghost house myself but I love the carnival. Well we went costume shopping for the bash but didn’t find anything, but we decided what we wanted to be though,” You said, subconsciously smiling at him.

“Whose we?” He asked raising his eyebrows.

“Oh just my friends Josie and Eve, they’re in different classes to me,” 

“And you’re going as….?”

“We are going as the Hex Girls if you know who that is, I’m going to be Dusk, you know blonde hair, green dress.. The drummer..” 

“That’ll be really cute,” He nodded as you felt that dizzy feeling again from his compliments, you were about to reply but with that class had begun.

[fate-everlasting]

Matters of the Heart

This is part three of a three-part alternate-ending fanfiction that revolves around the characters of Adele Carrem, Matteo Vasari, and Charlie Stoke, of Fogbank Entertainment’s Storyscape Titanic novella.

Author’s Note: This story begins in the boiler room, drawing from the diamond scene between Adele and Charlie. Thereafter, the storyline diverges.

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3: Fate, Everlasting

Climbing the stairs, I trace my fingers over the ornate oak railings, admiring the way the golden light reflects off the wood, my fingertips following the gentle curve of the banister toward the landing. When I reach C Deck, there are more people milling about, though I’m hit by a rush of memories, face to face with the Purser’s office where I composed Zetta’s messages for Richard, and had them sent to the Marconi room via pneumatic tube, a technology that amazes me, even now. I take a deep breath, sighing as I look for Matteo, though he is nowhere in sight. I wonder for a moment if he’s retired to his quarters, or perhaps James’ or Zetta’s, but decide to continue up the staircase to B Deck. I pass several passengers on the staircase, and though we make eye contact, we merely nod in acknowledgement of one another, the haunted looks I see in their eyes likely reflected in my own.

I slow as I reach the B Deck landing, expecting to find Matteo, though my brow furrows when I still don’t see him. For a moment, I feel myself start to panic, wondering if I’ve somehow managed to lose him, unsure of the specifics governing our existence on this version of Titanic, whatever it may be. I quickly dismiss the thought, and looking up, the wrought iron and glass dome overhead seems to glow brighter as I ascend the stairs to A Deck. I see more passengers now, many of whom seem to be coming and going from the Lounge as well as passing through the entry vestibules leading from the promenade on either side. Glancing out toward the promenade, I’m taken aback by the beauty. The entire sky seems to be illuminated in a perpetual sunrise, the water glittering brightly as Titanic glides silently toward its destination, though where this destination lies, and when we are to arrive, remains unknown . I sigh softly, and rounding the corner to start up the stairs, I catch myself admiring the ornate beauty of the ship once more, my hand resting gently alongside the bronze cherub adorning the center newel post at the base of the staircase, my mind reeling at the thought that all of this is now at the bottom of the Atlantic. As my gaze lifts toward the landing, my breath catches when I see Matteo’s tall, elegant form waiting there, though his attentions seem to be focused on his wristwatch, his back to the stairway. Climbing the stairs, I approach his side, the smell of his pomade nearly intoxicating. “Teo?”

He turns, smiling softly, his hazel eyes warm, “Adele. I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it.”

“Of course, I made it,” I return his smile, though the light glinting off his watch grabs my attention. I remember how much it meant to him, a gift from his grandfather who wore it during his service in the Boer War. “Your watch, Teo, is it alright…?”

“Well,” he begins, holding his wrist out to display the watch face, “it always did keep perfect time…” he trails off, with a sadness in his eyes.

“Two-twenty,” I softly read the time from his watch, and upon glancing up at the ornately carved clock on the landing, I realize it shows the same. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach when I realize the significance – it’s the exact time that Titanic sank. “Matteo, I’m so sorry.”

He carefully replaces his cuff over his watch, and turns to me, gently taking my hands in his. “Sorry for what, Adele?” His expression is one of concern, and as I look into his eyes, I feel myself drawn as deeply into him as I had ever been.

“Your watch was your good luck charm, it means so much to you, and now…” I shake my head sadly, though I’m unable to break away from Matteo’s gaze.

“It still is my good luck charm, just as it was for my grandfather.” He smiles sincerely, his thumbs lightly tracing over the backs of my hands. “I’m here with you. I can’t think of any better luck than that.”

I feel a sharp pang of guilt at his words, and I know I need to tell him about Charlie. While I love Matteo, and care for him deeply, the love that I have for Charlie is something completely different, something I’ve since come to realize. The last thing I want to do is cause him any pain, especially after everything we’d been through, but I fear that it would hurt him more if I instead don’t say anything. Looking into his hazel eyes, I feel tears welling up and filling my own. I take a deep breath, in attempt to steel my nerves before speaking. “Matteo, I need…”

He shakes his head then, his hands gently squeezing mine as he interrupts, “It’s alright, Adele.” I struggle to break his gaze, casting my eyes downward for a moment before looking up at him again, my heart and stomach in knots. He repeats softly, “It’s alright, I already know.”

“You know…?” My heart is racing. I wonder what he means, or how he could possibly know what I needed to tell him.

He nods, his hands not leaving mine as he speaks softly, “It’s Charlie.” A look of sadness clouds his features then, though I see him attempt to will it away as he offers me a comforting smile, which doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I feel my heart skip a beat at his words, “But, how?” My heart aches at the sadness in his eyes, knowing I’m responsible.

He continues gently caressing my hands as he holds them in his, and takes a slow breath before speaking. “I knew it in the engine room,” he pauses, his eyes closing briefly at the memory. “I kept looking for you, waiting for you. But, even as the water rose, you never came.” His voice is soft and low, his gaze briefly breaking from mine before he looks into my eyes again. “That’s when I knew.”

I’m speechless for a moment, my heart feeling like it’s shattering into a million pieces, the feeling of guilt nearly overwhelming. “Teo, I had no idea…I’m so, so sorry.” I shut my eyes lightly in attempt to stave off the tears that feel sure to come, and when I slowly open them, I find Matteo’s sad gaze still on me. “I didn’t intend to stay behind, I knew you were waiting for me, and I had every intention to follow you to the lifeboats. I promise you; I didn’t lead you down there to face what happened.” I can no longer suppress the tears, now freely streaming down my cheeks. “I love you, Matteo, I always have, but…”

Matteo wordlessly envelops me into a tight embrace, my body shuddering as I cry against his comfortable form. I feel his breath catch in his chest, and then he speaks softly, the raw emotion palpable in his tone, “I know, Adele. And I…” he hesitates before completing his thought, and takes a slow, but shaky breath. “…I put you in an impossible position.”

I look up at him, finding his hazel eyes tear-filled beneath his dark lashes, my heart feeling as though it’s breaking all over again. He continues, “I knew that you and Charlie shared something, and I should have respected that. After all, I was the accomplice to your blackmailer, there shouldn’t have been any question,” he shakes his head sadly. “It may seem unconventional, but ever since I saw you in that prison cell, I hadn’t been able to get you out of my mind. I hope you know - I need to make sure you know - I helped you because I truly wanted to. I truly care for you, Adele; more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. You made me a better man, and helped me to see that the ends don’t always justify the means, and that there can always be another way.”

I remain close to him, our arms still wrapped around one another. “I understand why you did what you did, Teo. James put you in an impossible position, too, and I know you truly care…” I sigh then, my eyes searching his, “But I didn’t make you a better man. You’ve always been a good man, or you wouldn’t have done everything you did for me, or for Hileni.”

Matteo chuckles softly, shaking his head, “I’m many things, my dear. But I’m afraid a good man isn’t one of them.” He pauses, gently running his fingers through my hair, “You did bring out the best in me.”

I break his gaze momentarily, and take a deep breath before looking up at him, attempting to will my tears away when I ask him the question that’s been nagging in my mind. “Teo, if you knew… Why did you come back? Why didn’t you try to save yourself?”

He reaches down, gently taking my hands in his again, “It was a matter of the heart, Adele.” He raises his eyebrow slightly, “Why did you stay behind?”

His question gives me pause, “I’m…I’m not sure. I was ready to leave, I very nearly did, but I went back.” He nods slightly, and I continue, “I just felt as though I couldn’t leave. My mind was screaming at me to go, to save myself. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I went back…” I hesitate, looking at him searchingly, “When I went back, it felt like that was where I was supposed to be.”

“Your heart made its choice, Adele,” Matteo nods gently, “and that’s nothing to apologize for.”

I glance down at my hands in his, and shaking my head slightly, I look back up at him, tears once again stinging my eyes. “It is, though. I stayed, and because of that, you came back, and now…”

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” he reiterates his point, his eyes gazing deeply into my own. “When you didn’t come to the engine room, I knew why you’d stayed, there was no doubt in my mind. It was at that moment that my heart made its choice, and it chose the same as yours – for me to stay.”

I’m speechless for a long moment, silent tears running down my cheeks, before I find my voice. “You chose to stay, even though you knew about Charlie, and knew there’d be no way out? Teo, I…”

He chuckles softly, sadly, gently dabbing my tears away with his handkerchief before replacing it in his pocket, taking my hand in his once more. “Adele, our interactions have never been anything short of complicated, have they?”

I smile slightly through my tears, “I suppose you’re right…But even then…”

Matteo shakes his head, his expression gentle, all the rough edges he’d once had now completely smoothed away. “I meant what I said, Adele. Of any place in the world, in this life, or the next, I’d rather stay with you, no matter the circumstance.”

I feel my breath catch, remembering those exact words when he returned to the boiler room, not knowing at the time that he already knew the truth, even before I’d acknowledged it myself. Looking up at him, I shake my head, “Believe what you will, Teo, but you’re a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known. And, I wouldn’t trade anything that happened between us, I just…” I briefly glance away before returning my gaze to him, “I wish everything hadn’t been so complicated.”

A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, “My dear, that’s but the nature of matters of the heart.” His eyes flicker down to his jade and gold brooch, still pinned to my gown.

Following his glance, I feel another pang of guilt. I gently take my hands from his, and reach up to unpin the brooch, feeling as though I’m no longer deserving. “I’m sorry, Teo. I should give this back to you…”

His hands reach up to cover mine, gently holding them in his once more, and I look up at him. He slowly shakes his head, “It’s yours, Adele. It’s still – and always has been – yours.” I nod wordlessly, tears once again stinging my eyes. Matteo offers a warm smile, though I still discern an underlying sadness in his eyes. “Even if I’d known our voyage would end this way, I’d do it all again. I have no regrets. I followed my heart, and you followed yours. Not everyone has the opportunity to surrender themselves to love, and find solace in whatever the outcome may be. I find solace that I still get to be here with you, and in that you have the good man that you truly deserve.” He pauses for a long moment then, his eyes searching my own, “You should get back to him.”

I’m unable to tear my eyes from his gaze, my emotions in turmoil, though I nod, reminding myself that he was right, my heart had made its choice. “Thank you, Matteo, for everything,” I begin, my voice soft. “For your openness, your kindness, your protection, and most of all, your understanding.” I pause briefly, “I’d do it all again, too.”

He nods, gently squeezing my hands in his, “You needn’t thank me, Adele, nor treat this as though it’s a goodbye. We’ve been through far too much together to go our separate ways now, and someone needs to be here to ensure Charlie treats you the way you deserve.” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. I chuckle softly at his comment, comforted and relieved, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and off of my heart. He then leans down, closing his eyes as he brings my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it lightly. He lingers there for a moment, and when he raises up and opens his eyes, they’re calm, and far less conflicted than before. “Get back to Charlie, Adele. I’ll catch up with the both of you a bit later.”

He smiles warmly, though a sadness still lingers behind his gaze. I nod, smiling softly, “I look forward to it, Teo.” I notice his gaze then shifts over my shoulder, and he nods his head slightly, before smiling at me once more, turning to head up the stairs to the Boat Deck. I watch him leave, the scent of his pomade fading, all the while my heart is still pounding, and the slightest inkling of doubt still nags in the back of my mind.

I sigh softly, and as I turn to head back down to D Deck, I see Charlie waiting at the base of the staircase, alongside the bronze cherub. Concern is still evident in his features. “Adal, is everything alright?”

I nod, offering him a smile as I slowly descend the stairs, “It is. Well, it is now, anyway. Matteo said he’d rejoin us later.”

Charlie nods at that, and clears his throat slightly, “And, he understands?” No doubt, he is referring to Matteo’s feelings for me, the cause of their contentious interactions from the first day they’d met one another.

“He understands everything, Charlie.” I smile gently, holding my hands out to him as I reach the bottom of the staircase, feeling an undeniable warmth course through my body the moment Charlie takes my hands in his. “There’s only you.”

At my words, his expression softens, and he wraps me in his arms, holding me tightly to him. I settle into his embrace, feeling safe and protected as I look up at him, the golden light shining in through the wrought iron and glass dome above surrounding us in a warm, ethereal glow. He smiles warmly then, his fingertips gently tilting my chin up to him as he leans down, his lips only millimeters from my own. He whispers softly, “And, there’s only you, my Adal.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against mine, and in that instant, the last lingering fragment of doubt in my mind disappeared. I return the kiss passionately, my soul finally feeling at ease. In a change, our kiss isn’t anxious, or hurried, but rather soft, tender, and with a love and an intimacy I hadn’t felt before.

We linger in the kiss for a long moment, and when we slowly part, Charlie smiles warmly, gently tracing his fingertips over my cheek. Looking into his eyes, I feel at peace. While I never could have imagined how the course of my life would change when I accepted my ticket on Titanic, I know that everything I’d done had led me to this moment. And, in this moment, I know beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I return Charlie’s smile, lightly resting my hand over his on my cheek, before leaning up to press my lips to his once more. He returns my kiss gently before breaking it a moment later, and steps back to offer me his arm. Without hesitation, I gently take his arm, and as I settle in against his side, we descend the Grand Staircase, leaving the past behind, and taking our first steps together into eternity.

[somethinwickedthiswayrides]

Arthur breaks reader out of jail

So I accidentally got rid of the ask for this. Whoops. Still not sure how, not used to Tumblr yet I suppose. lol, but @madnessismylover asked for a prompt for Arthur breaking the Reader out of jail, and having just completed a chapter 3 Stranger mission, I came up with this. I know you asked for fluff, and the jailbreak is very short, I’ll probably do an actual proper one later, but for now; enjoy the angst.

Gender neutral reader, but written with a female in mind, angst and fluff. Using the horse I wish to acquire in my game though, hope no one minds. Takes place in Chapter three, when the gangs at Clemens Point.

TW!: Mentions of character death, drinking, and jumping from high places while drunk.

I don’t think it’s very good, buuut. Maybe someone will like it?

"Arthur! Arthur!"

"What is it John?" Arthur looked up with a brow raised.

"It's Y/N, they're in the Rhodes jail." A few head turned at this, looking shocked.

"What? Why?!" Arthur stood up with a deep frown, they were supposed to be laying low and not to cause trouble in Rhodes.

"Not sure, but it doesn't sound too serious."

"Alright, I'll go get them out. You're sure it was Y/N though?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Goddammit." Arthur grunted as he climbed up onto his horse while Dutch pulled John aside to grill him about what exactly happened.

~~

Arthur strolled into Rhodes quietly and over to the jail, Y/N's Dark Bay Turkoman was tethered to the hitching post just outside. Arthur hitched up his steed and gave the Turkoman a quick pat on her neck.

"How you doing Duchess? What's your rider gotten themselves into?" Arthur sighed as he left the steeds and walked into the jail.

"Ahh, Mr. Callahan, good too see you! I take it your here to pick up your friend?" Sheriff Gray gave Arthur a smile.

"I am. If I may ask, what did they do?"

"Ah, nothing more than drunk in public. Though, they could've gotten themselves seriously hurt when they threw themselves from the saloon balcony."

"They did what?!" Arthur couldn't help his jaw dropping.

"Yeah, that’s why we threw them in here for the night, to sleep it off. Normally I charge a fine, but since you boys have been such a help to this here town, just, get 'em home and into a bed, would ya." The sheriff unlocked the cell door so Arthur could pick you up.

"Will do, thank ya." Arthur grunted as he lifted your unconscious form over his shoulder. Arthur threw you onto the back of his horse and mounted himself, calling for Duchess to follow.

~~

You didn't awaken until that night, head throbbing and world spinning. You managed to just stumble out of your tent, before rushing to the nearest tree to empty your stomach. The noise had alerted the other camp members who informed Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur that you were awake. Once you were stable, and had a chance to wash your face off, your were lead over to the front of Dutch's tent and were given an absolute earful from the three of them.

They were furious, each one ranting at you as to how incredibly risky and idiotic you had been. You had been gone for almost an entire day, looking for leads, get back to Rhodes and drink yourself into a stupor, then manage to coordinate yourself enough to jump over the railing from the second floor of the saloon, and have the sheriff drag you into the jail to sleep it off in a cell. Hosea was the first to notice your thousand-yard stare.

"Y/N! Are you even listening to us?" Hosea crossed his arms as he glared down at you.

"I am." You croaked, throat dry and sore from last night. "I'm an idiot, can't do anything right, did something and got drunk because of it." Arthur raised a brow in confusion.

"What did you do?" Dutch asked firmly. The three of them quickly got concerned when the glassy look in their eye turned into something more haunted. Your gaze dropped to the ground and you reached up and gripped your sleeves so tightly that your knuckles turned white, and you breathing got labored.

Hosea saw an incoming panic attack and quickly got you to sit, gently rubbing your back and trying to guide you through it. Your fit had caught the attention of several people in the camp, who were quietly watching to see what was happening.

Through your haze you managed to reach into your satchel and pull out your journal that Arthur had gifted you, and flipped to the page you wanted, before shoving the book toward Hosea. Hosea quickly scanned the page before pick it up and handing it to Arthur.

"You read it Arthur, looks like it might explain what happened." Hosea turned back to you and kept you breathing.

"Met a drunkard out in Rhodes today, name of Jeremiah Compson, sad old fool who seems to blame his problems on everyone but himself. Lost his career, then his house. Asked if I could head over and pick up a couple old items he wants back. Doesn't sound like there would be much in value, but I supposed it wouldn't hurt to look. Place is in Scarlett Meadows, just north of Eris Field."

"Well, that explains where you were at all day." Dutch commented as Arthur turned the page.

"Found Compton's Stead, he wasn't kidding when he said this place was in shambles. Doors and windows are boarded up, with a notice on the front saying that it was owned by the Rhodes bank. Nearby shed was burnt black too. Even more doubtful that i'll actually find anything of worth, but hey, i'm here. Might as well find his things and return them, even if all I'll get is a bottle of whiskey. Least the place is abandoned."

"Just what did you find in there to make you so shaky?" Hosea asked as you were started to come down from you attack.

"Wished I never set foot into this place. It seemed innocent enough, the stairs had collapsed so I couldn't make my way up to the second floor, found his old watch easily enough, along with a few letters about his career on a plantation ending, along with what seems like his family leaving too. Poked around in the living room and found a picture, of who I assume to be his daddy, standing next to an opened trap door, it was then I got jumped by a couple squatters, one of them was carrying the mans old flintlock pistol, thing was so rusted up that it wouldn't fire, my own pistol took them out easily enough. After that I checked out the trapdoor to the basement, and I got chills. The place had chains on the beams, and torture tools on the nearby table, along with his ledger, full of slaves! This bastard was a proud slave hunter! I'll be returning his things, and giving the man an earful."

There was a bit of muttering around camp at this, mostly in disgust. Lenny, Tilly, and Charles were all sporting deep frowns. By now you had fully calmed yourself, but you were still gripping tightly to your clothes.

"This next parts, kinda hard to read, the writing is sloppy." Arthur muttered before reading the passage.

"He's dead. I killed him. In cold blood and I don't even know why. He was camping just south of the old homestead, he was drunk, and belligerent, and we exchanged words. He wanted things to go back to the old ways, even went as far as to call himself a gentleman. Disgusting. I threw his ledger into his own campfire and, as he put it, pissed on his 'legacy'. He collapsed and started bawling as he watched the book burn, even tried shooting me with that busted flintlock. I turned to mount Duchess, content in letting him live out the rest of his miserable days with the sins crawling up his spine. Next thing I know i'm watching the flames from his campfire consume him after I unloaded a bullet into his head."

"Jesus." Hosea muttered as he looked at Arthur. Dutch and Arthur were in shock themselves.

"I don't even know what went through my head to make me do that. He was a sad and deluded shell of a man, who was unarmed and defenseless, crying into the dirt about an age that died and will stay dead. And I shot him in cold blood. Why? To avenge the people who's lives he helped ruin? For my own friends? Because he was a bastard that deserved worse then a bullet? I'm not sure, all I know is that the look on his face and my smoking gun will probably haunt me for the rest of my life."

Everyone was quiet, processing what they just heard. What started out as a normal day turned into a nightmare for one of their own. Anyone who looked at you could clearly see you were disgusted with yourself.

Arthur gently placed your journal back into your satchel before picking you up and walking to his tent. Dutch and Hosea let him, knowing you needed to recover before anything else.

Arthur sat down with you by his side and held you tight. You wouldn't be leaving camp for a while. And for that time, Arthur would be sure to let you know that you were safe, and that what happened, was little more than a bad day.

[mythicallore]

Bizzare Encounters with Imps

Throughout European legend and folklore can be found the pervasive presence of the tiny, evil little creatures commonly referred to as imps. The word comes from the Old English noun impa, meaning basically the young shoot of a tree or plant, and they are particularly prevalent in Germanic myths and legends. Although the creatures have countless descriptions and appear in numerous forms, there are some basic similarities. They are almost always portrayed as diminutive, small in stature, with ugly, rough features, and they are known as being mischievous, prankish, incorrigible, and uncontrollable. Many of the traditions depict them as rather evil and malicious, and indeed over the centuries they became more and more associated with the Devil and depicted as being demons and familiars of witches, warlocks, and even servants of Satan himself. While this must all sound like pure fantastic folklore very much in the vein of fairies, gnomes, and goblins, just as with those others there have been many purported sightings of what seem to be real imps, or at least something very much like these legends describes. These surprising reports involve some sort of gnome-like creatures with a decidedly demonic feel to them, and a malevolent air of menace surrounding them, and they come in from a variety of far-flung areas.

One such account comes to us from the site TrueGhostTales, from a witness named Joshua, who says that he had been just 12 years old at the time of his strange experience. It all started shortly after they had moved into a new home in Benicia, California, and although he had felt a bad energy emanating from the home from the very beginning, things would get truly bizarre when his mother one day heard a loud banging noise from the bathroom, even though no one else had been home at the time, and when she had gone to investigate she had found that everything from the counter and medicine cabinet had been thrown into a pile in the middle of the floor. This unexplained incident was followed shortly after by his terrified sister reporting that she had seen small glowing red eyes peering out from their darkened closet at night. The witness says that although he had not seen the red eyes himself, his sister had been so upset about it that he had believed her, and he would then in the coming days see for himself that indeed there was something very odd lurking in the home, which would become a regular visitor. He says of his first encounters with the thing:

My sister and I were ready to go to bed, my sister said she saw two red eyes inside the closet. I didn’t see them, but from how scared she was I believed her. We shared a room, and we had bunk-beds. My mom comforted her until she fell asleep. I slept short after. I awoke later that night from a small continuous noise coming from the foot of my bed (I had the top bunk). When I looked at my feet, I could see this dark, black figured shape jumping up and down at the foot of my bed. Every time that it jumped up, it would leer at me with these little red eyes. The eyes seemed to sink into his face until the red would just disappear. I couldn’t see much detail to his facial features, but I did realize that he was wearing a brim hat, like Charlie Chaplin. I started to scream, and within a couple of seconds my mom came in the room. But before she was able to turn the light on, I saw the little man (about three feet tall) hurry and run to the corner of the room and disappear into the darkness just before my mom turned on the light. This was not the first of many experiences we had.  A few days later, I woke up in the middle of the night. I still had that experience fresh on my mind, so I very carefully peaked my head over the railing of my top bunk, and looked around the room. When I saw the little man! This time he was just being very still and quiet, and he was just standing at the foot of my sisters bed, watching her (Our bunks were in the shape of an L, so I could see the lower half of my sisters bed). He then noticed me and looked at me. I yelled, and again, just one second before my mom got into the room, he would again run to the corner of the room, and disappear into the shadow. Every time he would run to the corner, he would stop for half a second facing the wall, and disappear.

Joshua claims that he saw this strange little demonic man over the next few nights as well, finally working up the courage to tell his mother what was happening. Rather than laugh it all off as the ramblings of a child’s imagination, she seemed to think that something was genuinely terrifying them, although she never let on that she had seen it herself. It would not be until years later that she would tell of her own experience with the entity, of which the witness says:

So what she did next, she did not tell us, until years later when we were grown up. If she told us at that time, it would have made us even more frightened because we would have known that it was not our imaginations. She told us that she stayed up one night with all the lights off. She was sitting in a chair in her bedroom, looking down the hallway to the entry way to our bedroom. What she saw next startled her. She said that after about a half hour after she turned the lights out she saw a little man who came into the hallway from the bathroom. He started to walk into our room when he must have sensed something. My mom said he stopped, and slowly turned around and looked at her with those sunken in little red eyes. She said he then turned back around and went into our room. She hurried up, and ran into our room and turned on light on. But he had vanished.  We lived in that house for about another year. We continued to have strange things happen. It didn’t let up until my mom and dad decided to move. Personally, I believe to this day, that the little man had to of been some sort of demon, not a human spirit. One thing that I never liked about it, was the fact that countless times, I would look around in the middle of the night, and every time he would be still, just watching us, either from the foot of my sisters bed, or he would be standing in the corners watching us. I never liked that, because you just never knew how long he could have been watching you as you slept.

A similar report comes from a witness on Your Ghost Stories, who had her own encounter in England with a very aggressive and genuinely evil little imp of some sort. She says that whatever it was had been quite bold, appearing in the middle of the day to harass her and her boyfriend, before becoming a constant presence that haunted and menaced them at all hours. The witness says of the ordeal :

I had a black shapeless entity peek at me from behind the TV one morning last May. It was black, and had tiny pinprick white eyes, extremely bright but the smile was ‘ear to ear’ and red… It rushed at me too, seemed to like chasing me at first, my boyfriend was in the house at the time, and this was during the day, while bright sunlight was streaming in through the window. I was terrified and actually climbed up my boyfriend (poor guy) to stop it touching my feet, which it seemed to find funny…  When it was moving across the floor it would either be a solid black shape, half human height, or a spinning ‘moth’? Which would continually spiral towards the floor. I have no idea what it was, we tried burning sage around the house, it seemed to back off quite a lot but after that a smaller black thing (no face) would sometimes peer at my boyfriend when he was asleep, and wait on the stairs.  Tried the sage, I also screamed at it to f*** off during the day while two people were there, (looked crazy ha-ha). It was actually very active during the morning/afternoon. After shouting at it for a very long time it did leave through the bathroom wall (temporarily). I actually got so desperate I smashed an ornament in its direction to try and frighten it. To be (mostly) rid of him, I had to keep standing up to it; it took a very long time, visualisations of white light enclosing the house, pushing it out… Was very hard mentally to move it at all, seemed very ‘heavy’. We think it moved to the next house, we are in a terrace and the attic has missing bricks in the wall to the adjoining house, I’m worried, but also extremely fascinated by it and wonder if it might return.

No word on if it ever did return or not, and it is a truly frightening and harrowing account, to say the least. From the same area of the world is a report of some sort of demonic imp at Crawfordsburn Country Park, in Ireland. The witness says she was out walking her dog, Missy, by the waterfall on an otherwise tranquil and calm evening. As they walked along the dog became very agitated for some unknown reason, and the witness explains:

Missy ran ahead and i walked quickly to catch up. I noticed she had stopped and had started growling so i started walking even quicker. As i got level with her i noticed what can only be explained as a gnome standing about 10 feet away from Missy. It was about 3 feet tall and at first i thought it was a child in fancy dress but then i noticed its teeth were pointed and a horrible brown colour and It had a bulbous nose and large, deep-set eyes. I got Missy on the lead and watched in amazement as the gnome began to laugh, this wasn’t a regular laugh but a deep cackle. I was terrified and frozen to the spot and watched as the gnome walked into some bushes by the waterfall and disappeared. I quickly ran off back to the car.

What was this thing? Was it some evil spirit or fairy? A demon? Something else? In some accounts it seems like these creatures are indeed very literal demons from Hell, true imps in every sense. One commenter on Exemplore explains of being haunted by tiny creatures that he believes are actual Biblical demons that can be fought off with the power of God. The witness says:

I see faces in figures in clouds, trees, bushes, on the grass and pretty much everywhere else I look. Until the Lord saved my life, these things had overtaken every aspect of my life, I had taken thousands of photos and videos of them, they would appear in my yard and trees as little gnomes, animal-like figures, full on demons, and all kinds of things that are freakier than anything I have ever seen in a horror movie. I’ve had dark clouds moving around my house and some insane visions that would take too long to type on here. My wife and son would see some of them, but not anywhere near the ballpark of what I see. No, I do not have schizophrenia or any other mental diseases. We tried every new age thing to rid our property of these beings, but it only got worse. One day I stayed home alone and prayed for hours trying to figure out why I was seeing these things. The Lord finally let me know in my soul that this was a product of all the sin I had allowed into my life and He was allowing me to see this in order to call me to Him. I was truly humbled and repented of my sins and I told Christ that I would rather die than to continue in a lifestyle that allowed this into my home and around my family. God saved me that day. I coughed out what I can only describe as evil energy out of my body 6-7 times. I was exhausted and felt truly forgiven and free for the first time in my life. The things is God still allows me to see things, they are just no longer in control of my life. I have learned many things from this, what feels like a curse, but I believe is a gift from God. I am now walking in the truth of God. No one could ever convince me that a battle of good vs. evil is not going on around us all the time. Most people just cannot see it.

Other unsettling reports seem to describe these things as a dark force that seems bent on luring children away to their dooms, and indeed in some folklore imps were known to do just this. One witness on Reddit weaves a rather unsettling tale of some sort of gnome that seems as if it was perhaps trying to trick his sister into wandering off with it. The witness says:

As a young child, my sister was visited by a spirit that appeared as a gnome-type creature (small, grey beard and pointed hat). He always appeared at dusk and tried to get her to follow him into the woods. My sister barely remembers the episodes, but I remember her telling me about them and even remember once keeping her from following him into the woods. My mom remembers once when we were swimming in a neighbor’s pool and she came to bring us home for dinner- after being home for about 5 minutes, my mom realized my sister was gone. Instinctively, she ran back to the swimming pool and found her in the pool, alone (she was 3 and could barely swim). We think this also has something to do with that entity, as she could not have walked that far in that amount of time by herself. Has anyone ever heard of an entity that tries to lure children away? At that time, we lived In an area of Western MA known for paranormal activity and there was a well known case of demonic possession nearby.

So, are these real reports of encounters with the demonic imps of folklore, or are they something else entirely? There is little to differentiate them from the numerous other accounts of sightings of gnomes, fairies, and other seemingly fairy tale creatures, but here we have something that seems especially evil and malicious in nature. What are these entities and what do they want? Are they real spirits, demons, interdimensional phenomena, or simply tall tales? No matter what the answer is, these are truly odd reports that mesh in with the long running myths and legends or demonic imps and gnomes, and serve as something to ponder at the very least.

[partyinthemysterymachine]

Get Out Of My Town

Ch. 1/?

Harry was back in the town he’d swore he’d never lay eyes on again, and saw in his fitful nightmares.

It hadn’t changed much, he thought. The fog was still so thick that it was hard to hear anything other than his own breathing. It muffled the entire atmosphere. The scrapes and grunts that came from beyond the veil kept his brain in a guessing game with itself; was it just his imagination, or were those noises real? 

He walked the broken white line in the middle of the road. In his hand he clutched a rusted pipe - a weapon that seemed to be dutifully waiting for him after all these years, sitting on a bench that greeted him upon entry to the town. Silent Hill was alive and conscious, as it always had been, as he hated to think about. There was a static in the air that felt excited. The hair on the back of his neck stood to a strange humid warmth in the midst of all this, well, mist. Harry could sense the jittery eagerness of the unknown and ungodly that wanted to welcome him back into the tragic, deadly fold that was Silent Hill.

Of course, he was here for the only reason he endured its hell in the first place. He sighed, looking into the boarded up shop windows and peeling signs as he passed them. His poor girl. This town was obsessed with her. He would give his life over and over for the rest of eternity for her to be left alone and live a normal, healthy life. 

Instead, Silent Hill repeatedly tried to wedge its way back into their lives and steal her away again. The reason he was here meant that it may have succeeded and he would, again, collect his daughter and take her home. 

Harry thought about Silent Hill more often than he liked. He remembered its streets, the school, the hospital, the basements and the houses. He recognized the other side of some of these streets as he walked them, but soon found himself in an area he was unfamiliar with.

Curiosity piqued and senses alert, he cautiously wandered the new section of town. Strangely, and reeking with dangerous foreboding, he had not yet encountered a monster. He heard them in the fog, and saw nothing. 

As a veteran of Silent Hill, this did not sit well with him.

The asphalt gave way to cobblestone as he approached a park. A park! The hedges were neatly groomed and the grass seemed maintained. Harry would have appreciated it if he were anywhere else, perhaps, since here it just rang wrong. He curiously followed the path, and as a wide walk bordered by chipped railing came into his view, he realized he’d found the lake.

Harry approached the railing and peered over into the water. There was nothing to see under the mist. He looked right - past an abandoned hot dog cart - and then left. He was about to turn back when his brain caught up to what he saw out of the corner of his eye (a figure, a dark and horrible hulking figure, just behind him within view, ready to jump him), and Harry quickly swung around.

His heart was thudding in his throat when he found that the monstrosity he thought he saw was in fact just a man. Just a man, sitting on a bench, staring into the fog as though he wore blinders. He didn’t see Harry, and he didn’t seem to even see what he was looking at. He sat there, very still, and very pale.

Harry was an empathetic man. Finding another person stranded in Silent Hill was simultaneously relieving and worrying. He didn’t want to think about what happened to the other people he’d met here. They always reminded him when he closed his eyes. 

With his pipe held low and as unthreatening as he could, he slowly approached the lost soul on the bench. The man was so pale and his face was so forlorn. His dirty blond hair was styled fashionably for 1999, and he wore a dark green jacket that looked military, while its owner did not fit the type.

He tried to edge slowly into the man’s line of sight. “Hello?” he said gently, getting closer. “Hello, I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if you were okay.” 

He frowned, seeing that he wasn’t yet making an impression on this faraway fellow. Harry gripped the pipe firmly, just in case he was to be duped, and leaned down to try to meet this man’s vacant eyes.

That’s when the foggy green irises lifted and Harry was engulfed in a wave so heavy with sadness that he nearly rocked on his heels. His brows knit in concern, and he braced his hand on his knee.

“Hey. You okay buddy?” No response. He looked like he was trying to process what Harry was, much less what he was saying. “My name’s Harry Mason,” he continued, hoping to prompt a similar reply.

“Hi.”

Oh, good. He was cognitive. Harry smiled, and opened his mouth to greet him for a third time, when he was cut off. “Are you a tourist?”

“No, uh, not exactly,” Harry replied, laughing. “I’m looking for someone, actually. But I’ve been here before - uh, the town. I’ve been to the town, though this is a part I’ve never seen before,” he said awkwardly, then looking out to the lake. “It’s a nice view, though. Shame about the weather, huh?”

When he looked at him again, he was held in a curious stare by foggy green eyes that were soaked in defeat. Harry felt a pang of guilt for a reason he couldn’t explain, and again tried to smile at the nameless patron. He was given no kind mirroring. The attempt at friendliness began to fade, and his eyes dropped to the ground. 

Harry wasn’t being given much to work with. As much as he would have liked to help he was in a rush to find Heather, but he felt torn. He couldn’t just leave this guy here without having some idea that he was going to be okay. He appeared to be totally lost to the winds and that worried him; he would feel horrible if something happened and he’d turned his back. Harry tried to smile again. 

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Who are you looking for?”

Finally, they were getting somewhere. The guy was waking up. “My daughter. Her name’s Heather. She’s about, oh, this tall,” he demonstrated with a wave of his hand, “and she has short blonde hair. She’s seventeen. She’s a real sweet girl, handling being a teenager with effortless grace.”

The sarcasm didn’t go unappreciated, and Harry was pleased to see that the wretched man could smile. It brought a wide grin to Harry’s. “I haven’t seen her,” he was told. “I’m sorry. A lot of people go missing here.”

“Yeah,” Harry sympathetically agreed. “This place isn’t like any normal town.”

“That’s for sure.”

Harry watched his eyes return to the lake. He straightened his posture and winced; he wasn’t getting any younger, and he was really regretting putting off that massage appointment that he won at an art faire raffle. He swung his pipe arm and stuffed the other hand into his jacket pocket. 

He studied this odd young man. He didn’t look much older than 27. The entirety of him was haunted and exhausted. It’s possible he was a native of Silent Hill. It made Harry sad to think about her. He still remembers that she was probably the last good thing about the town before it went to complete shit. She was young too. Though it was only two he’d met so far suffering seemingly the same fate, it really felt like too many people. Too many people were being eaten from the heart outward in this shithole. That poor girl.

Poor, sad Lisa.

Harry twisted, and looked down at the stranger. “Well, I’m going to have to get going. You be careful out there, okay, uh..? What was your name?”

Their eyes met again. “James. James Sunderland.”

“James. Be careful, okay? I hope I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. You too. I’ll keep an eye out for your daughter. She sounds nice.”

“Thanks. She means the world to me,” Harry said, offering a final smile as he began to retrace his steps. “I just want to get her home safe.”

James nodded. “I think that’s what any of us would want.”

Harry didn’t really know how to respond to that. He lifted his hand to wave, and received one in kind, and so he turned away. Behind him, James had turned his attention back to the lake.

How sad that young, blonde women were often lost here. The town ate them up like Easter candy. It was cruel and unfair, and James had been through this dialogue over and over so many times that he let it run in his head like an episode of a sitcom at midnight.

Behind all that noise, something else was itching in the crevices of his head. That man was important. Very important. The town was as excited to see him as much as it hated him. The fog thrummed with malicious energy. Silent Hill wanted to simultaneously swallow Harry whole and forcibly eject him. James could feel it all. He couldn’t know why it felt this way about Harry Mason. It was just so strong that he nearly felt vertigo when he stood up.

James began to walk in the opposite direction of where Harry departed. He was going to help him find his little girl. He didn’t like the way that Silent Hill changed when Harry arrived. He’d felt the shift immediately, and now understood what had caused it. He had to get him, and his daughter, out of this town.

Unfortunately for him, Heather hadn’t arrived yet.

But they didn’t need to know that.

pt 2//pt 3//pt 4//pt 5//pt 6//  series on AO3

[metiterasu]

Inktober/OCtober Week 1

I’m going to be posting these in batches of weeks to give myself time to catch up if I need it! Every week will have 7 doodles plus a short story to go along with each one.

So I decided to just make this a Llyra study month since I’ve been missing writing and drawing her!

I made these following @oc-growth-and-development​ ‘s prompt list for this year.

Day 1 - Beginnings

The sounds of the train starting on its journey rang in Llyra’s ears, bringing a smile to her face. She made her way from her seat to the back of the train, out onto the small balcony. 

As the train pulled out of the station, she stared off into the night sky, leaning on the railing. “This is it” she thought, “I’ll finally learn something new.”

She glanced back at her bag, thoughts wandering to the spellbook and wand waiting inside, of the spells buzzing in her mind as she mentally went over her routine for the entrance exam in the morning. Thilmserine was a small town, tucked away in the mountains and far too small and boring for her tastes. But the wondrous tales she had heard of the nearby Abizum Academy had set her heart aflame. 

Her smile grew wider as she watched her hometown shrink in the distance until it disappeared from view. She turned from her spot on the balcony and made her way back to her seat, turning her back on Thilmserine and towards her new beginning.

Day 2 - Dance

Music floats softly throughout the garden, a nearby bard practicing for his show, no doubt. Many were up dancing while most stuck to the outside tables, sharing drinks and laughing, celebrating surviving the recent vampire attack on the town. 

Llyra taps her fingers on the table to the beat of the music, itching to get up and move but her companions seemed content to mill around their table. Her eyes wander around her party until landing on her dragonborn friend. A soft smile appears on her face as Pokke notices her gaze.

“Dara, would you like to dance?”

“Eh?” Pokke tilts her head to one side, “Me?”

“Of course. Come on, it’ll be fun!” Llyra stands up and offers her hand out.

Pokke sighs and takes the hand extended to her “You won’t take no for an answer, huh?”

“Nope!” Llyra smiles and leads Pokke closer to where the bard was playing, the soft music lilting through the garden.

Llyra takes the lead in the impromptu waltz, placing a hand on Pokke's shoulder and taking her hand with the other. She smiles and laughs as they make their way around the space, gently swaying and turning to the beat of the music.

"If I could spend the rest of my days in this easy bliss, I would be happy…" she thinks to herself as she loses herself in the music and the moment.

Day 3 - Feast

"Woah!" Llyra marvelled at the spread being set down in front of her on the table. From rare meats to juicy fresh vegetables and everything in-between, Varis brought tray after tray of food for the party that evening.

He smirks as he sets down another plate worthy of a king and finally takes his seat at the table. "It's not much but I thought I would show my gratitude for lettin' me travel with y'all." 

"Not much?" Anya says from her seat beside him, "This is enough food to feed a whole village! No, two villages!"

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration…" Llyra pours a glass of wine for herself, "But this really is a lot of food Varis."

"Perhaps, but at least we won't go hungry for a while, eh? Eat up!" 

Llyra smiles and lifts her glass, "To Varis! And his great cooking skills!"

"To Varis!" The party chimes in after her, the sounds of glasses and cups clinking filling the small tavern.

------

Llyra pulls her knees closer to her chest as she sits by the campfire that night, the small hut they took shelter in barely shielding the party from the wind.

The lackluster dish of food lies untouched at her feet, only serving as a reminder of what they lost that day.

The mound of earth that serves as Varis' grave is barely visible out of the shack's door, Pokke and Shanan were finishing filling it in before returning to the camp.

A silence falls over the party as they mull over the events of the day, Llyra's attention squarely on the fire and the distorted lump of earth she could see through the heat. Leaving her wondering what could've been if she'd just been faster, smarter, able to think clearly at all. Instead she walks away unscathed while another companion joins the sea of souls that haunt her dreams.

Day 4 - Nature

“Another one?” Llyra watched while Anya placed a potted plant on the shelf above her desk.

“It brightens up the room, no?” Anya smiled, arranging the leaves to be more aesthetically pleasing.

“Perhaps… But you know how bad I am at taking care of these things Anya.” Llyra gestures to the other plants on the shelf which were in various different states of dying.

Anya sighs and reaches up for the dying plants, easily bringing life back to the flowers and leaves with her druid magic. “Maybe I should bring you a cactus or something, they’re easy to take care of.”

Llyra rolls her eyes, “I think they’d be better off in your house than mine, I’m too busy to take care of myself most of the time, never mind taking care of this many plants as well.”

The tiefling lays a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “That, I am also working on. So come on we’re going out to dinner.”

“Eh? W-Wait!” Llyra says with a laugh as she’s dragged towards the entrance of the house, “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too bad!” Anya turns to face Llyra with a grin, “My treat, you have no say!”

Llyra sighs and shrugs, there was no point fighting with Anya, it would lead nowhere. Especially when it came to making sure she actually ate food.

“Alright, alright, just give me some time to get ready and I’ll meet you there” A soft smile on her lips as she retreated back into the house to prepare.

Day 5 - Lost

As night fell over Barovia, Llyra found herself on the wall of the balcony attached to her inn room. 

Her spellbook long since discarded on the table, pages fluttering in the gentle wind, her real purpose for coming out here all but abandoned as she stared down at the street below. A few people on nightly business guided by soft lamp light and the dull glow of the eternal full moon above. 

It never changed.

Every night spent in Barovia was the same as every night to come. It was boring and tiring. Her grip tightened on the sleeve of her shirt as she thought about how little had changed since the party arrived in the small town.

It just made her feel worse about their situation, trapped in this never changing land, running for their lives every single day. She knew what she had signed up for when they all decided to put a stop to this, but she didn’t know it would be this hard. Every day left her exhausted, every day made her feel like it would be better to give up, to resign themselves to living in this hellhole for the rest of their lives.

Her hands moved up to her head, clutching fistfuls of hair as she tried to rid herself of her dark thoughts.

“Ugh.” 

She turned around where she sat and hopped down from the wall back to the balcony.

“That’s enough for one night.”

Day 6 - Bitter

Primrose always did better than her.

In every class, in every field of study, her half-elf friend excelled in every area that Llyra tried to master. She wasn’t a jealous person, she didn’t let those feelings control her, but with every day that passed the thoughts would creep back at every new achievement.

Llyra knew that Primrose was better than her, thankful that her friend would help her through her struggles. But she hoped one day to return the favour, to help in return with something Prim didn’t understand.

But there was nothing.

She tried so hard, spent countless nights studying while Prim slept just for a chance, a single hope that one day, one day, she would be good enough to teach her something new instead of how it always was.

But for now she would admit she was jealous. The bitter taste of the emotion crept into her mouth as she explained that she needed help with another spell. Prim agreed to help with a smile, as always. 

So happy. So eager to help. She held her wand tightly as she pointed it towards Prim. 

I wish she would stop.

Day 7 - Tender

The smoke subsided as the sounds of battle died down around her. Llyra collapsed in place, coughing at the remnants of her fireball that had decisively finished the fight off. 

“W-We did it!” She managed to sputter out, “Can we please take a rest now…?”

The sounds of armour clanging on the floor alerted her to her friend’s approach. “Of course.” 

Llyra smiled as she felt the familiar soothing of Pokke’s healing magic seep into her wounds. She let out a sigh of relief as most of the pain subsided, leaving her with minor scratches and bruises.

“Thanks Dara.” She looked up at the dragonborn, who was kneeling down in front of her.

Pokke smiles and takes Llyra’s face gently in her armoured hands, wiping away a stray tear she didn’t even know was there. “As long as you are alright.”

Llyra nodded, a warm flush spreading across her face as she gently removed Pokke’s hands and instead holding them in her own. “Thanks to you, if you hadn’t have taken that axe for me I’d have been a goner…”

Pokke shakes her head, “I was only doing what I had to. Besides, I think you’re a little tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

She laughs, “Not strong enough for that surely! But regardless of if it’s your job or not, thank you… Even if you did leave me with these nasty scratches.”

That earns her a playful shove, “It may be my job but you’re making me regret it.”

They both laugh, revelling in their victory and the little moments they get to share because of it.