#‘eris don’t work off the clock’ normally yes i would agree with you

[robertsbarbie]

crazy that i don’t feel like i’m doing enough at work to the point i work on stuff at home and then i realize i’m already through my “still to do” list yet i STILL feel like i’m not doing enough

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Watch It Burn - Part Three

Pairing: Undecided x mob!Reader

Requested: No

Summary: Olympus and the Horsemen have to unite but more than one secret is uncovered

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drinking/alcohol use etc

A/N: Sorry for the long wait but I hope you guys like this part! The pairing is still undecided so please let me know who you would like to see it written for! Please remember to like, reblog, leave comments to let me know what you think about it!

The only sound resonating through the meeting room of the Speakeasy was that of Famine’s fingers tapping lightly on the table. It was a light, spider-like sound that was disconcerting in the otherwise silent room.

Athena had had only one previous “meeting” with The Horsemen, and yet she had already picked up that Famine found it difficult to keep completely still. But other than his tap-dancing fingers, Famine’s body language remained neutral - interest was clear on his features as he observed the women, but other than that, there was no give-away to what he was thinking.

One of the things that Athena found the most interesting, yet slightly unnerving, about Famine was the near-permanent smirk that lay on his face. He always looked on the verge of making a joke- as if quick wit resided easily on the tip of his tongue.

Athena wondered what he would have been like outside of this life, outside of The Horsemen.

Death, on the other hand, simply looked bored. He was sat back in his chair slightly, his body language completely closed off towards the people sat at the table. His eyes were lowered, as though he thought that they could use them to look into his soul.

“I thought you said that you would get better at hosting,” Athena said finally, breaking the tense silence that lay between the five mobsters. Famine quirked an eyebrow at her.

“They’re late.” Hera supplied an answer to Famine’s silent question. Her tone was icy and unwelcoming, clearly aggravated by the long wait that they had been forced into.

“They are talking with Ares,” Famine informed, the statement accompanied by an eye roll. His words, however, caused scoffs to be let loose by the women. Death’s head whipped up so sharply at their noises of indignation that Athena wondered how his head didn’t snap off.

“You are in Ares territory and you’re here as guests, so show some fucking respect,” he hissed, his eyes cold and deadly as the threatening words were spat towards the ambassadors of Olympus.

“When Ares shows us and Atlas some respect, we’ll be happy to return the favour,” Eris snapped back and, for only the briefest of seconds, confusion flickered on their faces.

Athena looked at Hera, only to find the woman’s gaze already on her, a frown on her face as well. They didn’t know.

Death and Famine were saved from Eris’ harsh response as the door finally flew open.

Conquest surveyed the room with careful eyes as he led two figures in behind him. They finally landed on Athena, after it seemed he fully examined Hera and Eris, as she was the only one he recognised outside of the other two Horsemen. He raised a single eyebrow at her.

“Did Atlas never teach you how to sit properly?”

It was a fair comment, Athena never did sit on her chairs the normal way. She would sit cross-legged on them or with her knees bent upwards, often having her legs resting against the table. Sometimes she would sit sideways on a chair, using one arm rest to prop up her back and swing her legs over the other one. Even she wasn’t quite sure why she did it, but she supposed there was an aspect to it that made it easier to reach her concealed weapon.

“Did Ares never teach you what a clock is?” Conquest watched her for a moment more, almost as though he was daring her to say something more or seeing if she would change the way she was sitting.

Athena returned his stare levelly.

“We’ve wasted enough time already, we have other places to be,” Hera spoke, finally breaking the silent stand off occurring between Athena and Conquest.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, we do have other places we can turn to,” Eris added, having never been happy with going to The Horsemen in the first place.

“You came to us,” Famine pointed out. “You need us.” The bold statement made the three women let out cold laughs.

“Is that what you think.” Eris stated, bordering another silent challenge.

“You’re saying you don’t need us?” War questioned, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and lighting one.

“Believe it or not, we do have allies.” Hera informed the Horseman. Athena shot her a warning look and moved her eyes up to meet War’s.

“You may be the most convenient choice, but don’t think for a second we can’t go elsewhere,” she hissed, assuring the men.

Conquest and War took seats at the table, with Conquest at the head and War next to Famine. The third man remained standing and Athena could feel his eyes weighing on her.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him and raising her eyebrows.

“This is Silence, our head bodyguard,” Conquest said, holding his hand across the table to War, indicating he wanted a cigarette. War rolled his eyes as he passed one across and lit it.

“Yeah, well, that’s great, but you can stop staring at me,” Athena sneered at Silence. The bodyguard scoffed.

“I’ll be outside, sir,”

“Whiskey?” Conquest offered, nodding towards the decanter on the table. Death clearly took that as a sign and poured a glass for everyone.

“Not for me.” Athena said curtly, pushing away the glass Death passed to her. The Horsemen raised their eyebrows, but Athena simply rolled her eyes.

“So, what do you intend to do with The Disciples?” Conquest asked, leaning back in his chair and looking at the three women in front of him.

“Take them down,” Hera said simply, taking a sip of whiskey.

“If it was that easy you wouldn’t be here.”

Eris looked to Famine and nodded at him. “You’re most probably suffering the most,” she mentioned and Famine raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Me?”

“They’ve taken over the drug trade, which is your area of expertise, right?” Eris questioned, Famine chuckled a little.

“Do you know everything about us?” He asked. Hera and Eris shot not-so-discreet looks at Athena, smirks growing on their faces.

“We have good intelligence,” the Horsemen followed the Olympian’s gazes, eventually resting their eyes on Athena.

“We don’t want to go to war,” Athena said, moving on from their questioning gazes.

“Is that so?” Amusement danced in Conquest’s eyes, as though she was a small child who did not understand the ‘real world’ in the same way that they did. Athena sneered at him, shaking her head.

“Believe it or not, Atlas didn’t teach us to seek out war.”

“And Ares didn’t teach us to be stupid,” War countered.

“Ever consider that it’s more foolish to go looking for violence and war than to look for peaceful solutions?” Hera questioned.

“Well I do have a reputation to uphold,” War pretended to ponder. Athena looked away to hide her amusement.

“So you want to enter peace talks?” Conquest cut in, clearly frustrated by how off-topic the meeting had quickly become.

“That is the idea, yes.”

“And have you got intelligence on them, too?” The question was directed towards Athena, but she hesitated before responding. Atlas had warned her about being careful of what she shared with The Horsemen- even after they had agreed to help them.

“In the process of,” she settled on.

“Care to share?” Conquest asked and Athena shook her head.

“You know, I kinda don’t,”

“You want us to be allies, but you won’t tell us what you know?”

“We’ll tell you as much as you need to,” Eris said, eyes blazing in anger.

“What do you know of them?” Hera asked instead, clearly not wanting any of the mobsters to blow up.

“Silence tends to keep all of our intelligence,” War waved them off. “If there was a serious threat then he would have brought it to our attention.”

“Then he’s clearly not doing a good job,” Athena informed them. Conquest looked to Famine and the ginger man nodded slowly.

“It is true that the drug trade has been slowing down.”

“It has for all of us,” Eris inputted.

“And you know that’s The Disciples?”

“Yes, and we also know that they’re getting into the weapon industry,” Eris’ statement was directed towards War who frowned, shifting in his seat to sit up properly.

“That… would make sense,” he agreed.

“And they’re using kids to do their dirty work,” Athena added, the familiar anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she thought about the kids.

“You mentioned that,” Conquest agreed, moving forwards as though he could look into her soul. “But then you sent a kid our way to deliver a message,” Athena rolled her eyes at his judgemental stare.

“You wouldn’t have hurt him,”

“Is that so?”

“Believe it or not we don’t endanger children willingly,” she scoffed. The leader surveyed her for a moment before leaning back in his chair again.

“Okay. So start talking.”  

[ceruleanmusings]

Selenophile

note: so a bit ago I stumbled across a gif of Emily Rudd that someone made with red Alpha eyes. I filed that away to the back of my mind and, since I’ve been stuck on my Teen Wolf fic lately, I brought the idea of Mel being an alpha werewolf to the forefront and haven’t been able to get it out of my mind while at work so here it is. This is just a snippet to get the idea somewhere. I may write more later but, for the moment, this was fun to get out of my head. Just in case I wasn’t clear, this is an AU for my Teen Wolf fic series. Let me know what you think!

                  selenophile (n.) - A person who is fond of the moon.

There wasn’t much that could shake up the status quo in Beacon Hills. In fact, everyone seemed to turn a blind eye to the common goings on in the small town. The disappearances, the homicides, the animal attacks. All a notorious part of it’s rustic charm. So when the news of a body being found in the woods of the Beacon Hills preserve began to be whispered one night in January, it went in one ear and out the other. Until the exact state of the body started to come to the forefront. A dead body is normal but half of a dead body? Stop the presses!

“What!?” Melanie Crowe’s outburst was quickly followed by a dribble of foam spilling over her bottom lip. Holding up a finger, she turned towards the sink and spat out a stream of bubbly toothpaste foam. It plopped into the otherwise pristine sink with a wet splat. She wiped the excess around her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the residue on skin rather than the sea-shell covered towels hanging nearby. “Waddya mean they found half a body?”

“Exactly what I said, Hummingbird,” her father, Jean-Laurence, “Laurence” to everyone—he insisted his full name sounded a tad too stuffy; with a California backrop, Mel couldn’t help but agree—commented from the doorway. Even while leaning against the doorjamb, he took up a lot of space. Years of MMA training filled him out. While he looked like a solid mass to others, to Mel he was a giant teddy bear. “Out in the woods. Same place they found the deer.”

“Which deer?” Mel asked.

Laurence lips pulled back on one side, forming a smirk. “The one that can fly.”

“Dad!”

“The only deer that has any sort of importance. The one with the—” he poked his finger in the air and circled it, drawing an invisible spiral.

"Right. That one.” The only one that mattered. After all, it’s been a while since the symbol for vengeance had appeared anywhere in Beacon Hills, or so her father reported. And on a deer of all things. It had thrown her for a loop when the news first came to light. Why put it on a living animal, Mel had wondered at the time. It was Laura Hale who’d put the idea in her mind that, whoever made the mark, wanted them to know about it. Wanted a moving billboard.

A roaming mark of death.

Wait.

“Dad,” Mel asked, stretching the word far beyond it’s normal syllable usage, “what kind of animal tears a body in half?”

“The worst kind.”

Mel nodded slowly, tapping the end of her toothbrush against her chin for a moment before making a face. She, again, wiped off excess toothpaste and ran the head of the toothbrush under the water. Yes, of course. Because no normal animal would take the time to break a body in half. There weren’t wolves in California—proper wolves—to do it, coyotes tended to stay away from humans, and she’d never heard of a bear doing that much damage during their attacks. So it was all laid out for her, all made clear, just what sort of animal would do this.

“So we’re looking for a Wendigo, huh?” she asked, turning back towards her father. At his lifted eyebrow, she continued barely able to conceal her excitement. “See, I knew there were Wendigos in Beacon Hills! It all makes sense! Because why else would the body be found in halves?,” she rambled, gesturing wildly with her toothbrush as if it here a professor’s teaching pointer, “so they can get to the insides faster, duh! And...and, some of the robberies at the cemetery? Wendigos! Stealing jewelry and stuff has to be just a cover to get away with it. Like...the press would definitely be all over someone stealing kidneys or something and—”

“Mel!”

Her father’s curt tone stopped her all at once and silence settled in the small bathroom. She heard every tick-tick-tick of the of the clock on the wall. The kind with cat eyes and a tail that shifted with each second. It came with the house when they moved in years ago; she’d always meant to take it down and replace it but had never gotten around to it. It became like a touchstone, like a piece of normalcy and innocence that she could come back to every now and then when she needed a break from everything. When she needed to be transported back in time before she knew about the dark underbelly that ran just out of reach in Beacon Hills.

“Focus,” Laurence continued, his voice softening in a matter of seconds. “That’s not the kind of animal I’m talking about.”

��I know,” she conceded. She licked her mint-flavored lips and set her toothbrush aside. “I just don’t want you to be right.” Laurence unfolded himself and straightened in the doorway, studying her. She pressed her lips together and cleared her throat, ducking her head to get out of his line of vision. He had a way of being able to look right through her that she didn’t particularly like. Maybe it was the look of a previous leader. And maybe it was the look of a concerned father.

He stepped further into the room and reached out of her. He gently laid his hand on her head, slipping it down to her cheek where he ran his thumb against the soft curve. She turned her face into his palm, nuzzling the warmth beneath her skin. A weary sigh made her body sag and she looked up at him, sorrow filling her big, blue round eyes. “Because if you are...I have an idea of who it is. And...and I don’t want it to be her. I don’t. It...it can’t be her, Dad.”

“...You’ll never know if you don’t check.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Aren’t parents supposed to keep their kids from sneaking out at night?”

“Only the normal ones.”

Mel nodded. Her lips briefly pressed into a line. It was her turn to check the deer anyway. That was the plan. Wait a couple of days and, if there was no new news, go out and check herself. Her phone had been silent for days but her mind had been loud in the interim. For her to go out in the woods and look for the spiral herself...that only meant there was a wrench in their plans. Or, in this case, a sword. “Tell Mom I’ll be back in two hours. Tops. If I‘m not, well...then I’ll need some backup.”

“You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

This time Mel laughed out loud. “Who said I was?” She turned to the sink where her cell phone sat, lying face up. She tapped the screen, illuminating a picture of Erica Reyes blowing a kiss to the camera. Her thick, black reading glasses and a few healing spots of acne on display. Erica hated the picture. Mel loved it. Beneath it numbers counted upwards as the seconds ticked by. “Can you sneak out past your mom, Eri?”

“I think I can,” Erica’s replied, her voice sounding small, far away, and tinny in the expanse of the bathroom. “If she finds out I can just tell her that I stopped by your place to get some clothes for the first day back.”

Mel’s smile only filled half her face. Unfortunately it was a sound excuse. Mrs. Reyes—whom Mel wondered should really be back to Ms. Martinez at this point—put her foot down about a lot of things regarding Erica but when it came to fashion she didn’t say a word. It was hard to find clothes that Erica liked and didn’t make her feel so defeated about her body and her condition. After many changing-room arguments, Mrs. Reyes finally took a step back on the fashion front. And, since half their clothes didn’t belong in the proper closets due to many sleepovers over the years, it wasn’t unusual for either to show up at one another’s houses looking for particular shirts, jeans, or shoes.

“I’ll bring some with me just in case she actually checks.”

“Oh, good, because I have been meaning to get that sweater back that I loaned you.”

“Which one?”

“That red polka dot one.”

“Aww, man, I liked that one.”

“Yeah, so do I. Which is why I want it back, Mellie.”

“But what about—” Mel stopped right away when she saw the way her father looked at her: hard stare, set jaw, furrowed brows. She cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m leaving now. Be there in a bit. Wear good shoes.” Mel ended the call with a tap to the screen.

“I should have known,” Laurence said with a shake of his head. She wasn’t sure if it was in amusement or reluctance. “I really should come with you.”

Mel lifted her hand and shook her head. “You need to stay with Mom.”

“You’ll be weaker on your own. If something comes up—”

“If something comes up they’ll think that it’s just two curious teenagers out past curfew,” Mel pointed out, sliding past her Dad to head back into her room.

“You’re giving hunters too much credit,” Laurence said. “They could be lying in wait.”

“They could be,” Mel agreed, grabbing a sweatshirt off her desk chair. “But I don’t think they’re looking for snooping teenagers. They have a code, don’t they?”

“If they decide to follow it,” Laurence pointed out. “You know that saying about waiting thirty minutes to swim after eating?”

Mel snorted. “Who follows that rule?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, in the event that something does happen...this is why I need you to stay with Mom. I can protect Eri. I’m not exactly defenseless.” She lifted her head and flashed her eyes to prove her point. They glowed ruby red for a few seconds and then faded a moment later. She shook her head at the rush of power that flashing her eyes sent through her and let out a slow breath, pushing it back down. She’d gotten in control of her alpha power surges in the past couple of years—going through two kinds of puberty at one time sucked—but every now and then the full moon could get the better of her.

“Neither am I.” Laurence flashed his gold eyes in response. “I’m just saying...” he hesitated, fiddling with his fingers, “I’m stronger with you here.”

“Awww,” Mel cooed, saccharine tones practically forming a puddle at her feet, “I love you too, Daddy-o.” She pulled the sweatshirt down over her head and smiled at the sequined picture of Pikachu’s face staring back at her. “Seriously though, I get it. I know it’s been hard for you to come to terms with not having your alpha powers anymore, especially now—”

“I’d give ‘em up for you again in a heartbeat,” he stated. She crossed the room and hugged him tight around the waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and ruffled her hair.

“But Dad”—she backed away, taking his hand and gave it a squeeze—”you’re going to have to let me be the Alpha at some point. Okay?”

He nodded; his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Okay.” She slid out from his grip and had barely reached her open window, pushing aside her billowing curtains with a pair of Doc Martens curled in her fingers, when he spoke again. “If the hunters are back, we're going to need to start talking about you making your first Beta.”

Mel paused on the windowsill, one leg still in the room and the other dangling outside. “You’re my Beta.”

At that Laurence barked out a laugh. “I’m an Omega, remember? You didn’t bite me—thankfully. That’s not exactly a conversation i want to explain, in more ways than one.” He sobered up a second later. “Seriously though...I may not always be there. You’re going to have to think about it.”

“I will,” Mel said. She then tossed her shoes and a few clothes out the window. “After I figure out what’s going on with this body.”

“Be careful.”

She turned and flashed a wickedly fanged smile at him. “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked and then rolled out the window. Thankfully the drop wasn’t too far, not that it would hurt her. She always found a way to land on her feet.

Gathering up her things, she then hurried down the side of the yard and to the truck that sat in the driveway. Not officially hers—yet!—even if she did drive it a lot. She thanked anything that would listen for the body being discovered in the winter; it was the off season for her mother’s flower shop so she had wheels within reach at any given moment.

She dumped her clothes into the passenger seat, quickly pulling a pair of jeans over her sleep shorts which were then followed by her boots. And as she turned on the engine and prepared to back out of the driveway she opened her phone and checked her recent text messages. She highlighted the fourth name from the top, Laura Hale. Still nothing since the beginning of the month.

Grunting, Mel tossed the phone aside and backed out of the driveway. Either Laura Hale’s phone died and she hadn’t bothered to charge it or there were outside forces at play.

Either way, she was certain she’d get an answer in the woods. She just hoped it’d be in her favor. For all their sakes.