#Out-Stead Allison

[ladycalleddella]

Allie Sketch!

[otdiaftg]

Neil and the girls talk about Neil's tattoo.

"This is a joke," Dan said, grabbing Neil's chin. "Neil?" "He told me to transfer to the Ravens," Neil said. "He said I could finish this year with the Foxes but that I'd move to Edgar Allan this fall. They inked me in preparation and I couldn't stop them. I wanted you to know in case Riko says something about it. I'm still a Fox no matter what he says. I wouldn't sign his papers." "Take it off," Dan said. "It's permanent," Neil said. "Nothing's permanent. Take it off. Matt will spot you the money." "He will or I will," Allison said. "I don't want to see that on my court. Kevin's tramp stamp fouls the atmosphere enough." "Kevin knew about this, didn't he?" Dan said, incensed. "He knew what Riko was going to do to you and he let you go anyway. The next time I see him—" "You'll do nothing," Neil interrupted her. "Kevin didn't have the right to stop me." "He let you go to Riko in his stead." "No," Neil said. "Kevin didn't factor into any of that. He knew it wasn't about him." Dan wasn't expecting that. Confusion took the edge off her anger. "You said Riko was trying to get to Kevin." "I said Riko focused on me because of my relation to Kevin," Neil said. "I didn't say that's why I went. I just thought you should know about this before the season kicks off." Dan let him get to his feet but seized his elbow before he could get far. Neil looked down at her, but she was staring across the room at nothing. It was a minute before she spoke. "You never had any plans to go home for Christmas, did you? That whole mess about your uncle flying to Arizona—you made that up so we wouldn't ask too many questions or wonder why you weren't going to New York with Kevin." There was no point denying it. "I did." "I get that you don't trust us completely," Dan said. "I don't like it, but I think we've been pretty good at working around that all year. We haven't pushed you to give us more than you're comfortable with and we haven't asked why you're like this. So don't do this to us. Don't sit here and lie to our faces." She finally looked up at him, frustration pulling hard at the corner of her mouth. "We're your friends. We deserve better than that." "If you always got what you deserved, you wouldn't be a Fox." Neil tugged out of her grip. She let him go without a fight, looking a little startled by that blunt rejoinder. Neil tried to stamp out the trickle of guilt but couldn't quite manage it. "I've never had friends before. I don't know how this works. I'm trying, but it's going to take time." Time was something he didn't have, but that wasn't worth mentioning. Dan accepted his apology and promise with a weary nod, and they let him leave in peace.

Day: Wednesday, January 10th Time: 8:25 AM EST

[rev-wrath]

Okay. So. I know it's way early than I promised, but I have some stuff to do around our usual interaction time tmr so I'm dropping the ending arc for the Devotion fic right now. (Once again, answer whenever you have the time/energy/mental capacity to)

It's gonna be totally non canon compliant bc I am going to ignore everything season 4 related, but y'know how in the end of s3, Allison used the control panel thing? In the fic, it's gonna be R who uses it and effectively disappears from the 'new' timeline in the stead of Sloane (I am very salty about this). The six years pass (still unsure whether I want them to not have their powers or if they do) and the siblings are estranged, but they come together bc like hell Five's gonna let R disappear like that. Phro's with him whilst Ros isn't, so he's taking this as a sign that R's alive somewhere in the universe/timelines.

One thing leads to another, and R (newly awakened Devotion, with their Eight persona locked behind whatever wall Destiny or Father time put up) gets trapped like Morpheus!Dream had once been but by people that actually care for them. And it's just the Hargreeves siblings trying to get Devotion to remember who they are. Once R does remember, they leave to maintain the continuity (greeting Five, giving him the book, etc).

Ultimate chapter would be the Hargreeves fam finding Sanctuary and pulling R out of their inevitable doom cause as much as I adore happy tragedies and tragic ends (and although I wanted to end this fic in a tragic way) I can't bear to do that after that finale.

I'm taking very few things from S4 with me. I love your S4 already.

Devotion returning to Eight just to leave to make sure things go the way they're supposed. Waiting. Watching. Drowning. Until they're pulled out. It feels a little like maybe being pulled from a grave?

I am however curious, on what the ending was going to be before Netflix's S4 dropped.

[hattiestgal]

what rpg classes/archetypes would ur ocs be! :O

Ooooh this one is a really fun one! I won't be covering all of my OC's cause that'd take a while, but I'll share my favorites

Riley - This one is probably kinda obvious, but they're definitely the rogue/thief/quick on their feet type. The sorta character that's fast, mischievous, and not the strongest, but can deal a lot of damage under the right circumstances.

Violette - Either a berserker or a support class of some kind. She's knocked a guy out cold with a single punch, so it's not too surprising in that regard, but she's also good with machines (see her car mechanic job), so she could like build some kind of backup weapon or something

Omen - Dark mage type. Necromancer, life drain kinda magic. Can be taught how to wield a sword with enough effort, but a spell caster through and through. He'll make a big deal about how reluctant he is to heal you but it's always solid heals

Finnegan - Support/Bard class sorta thing. A bit of a showman when it comes to wielding more graceful weapons, but a stat booster/healer first and foremost.

Alex - Standard tank or knight class. Can absolutely take some hits and dish 'em out too. Would know the abilities that let him take damage in the party's stead. Wielder of heavier weapons

Harlow (need to talk about them moreeee) - Psychic mage type. Confuses, disorients, drains opponents magic. Another support, but more on the aggressive side of things

Lucy - GLASS CANNON - can dish out some of the heaviest hits you've seen, but needs time to do so, and probably can't get too many times if you wanna keep him in the fight. Knows how to operate heavy weaponry and can do some absurd casting.

Allison - Fortified fuckin' castle. Made to be nigh unhittable under the right conditions, and quick to fire back with a lightning quick fist. Probably the slowest member of the party, but with the right powering up, can kick absolute ASS

[cacowhistle]

i haven't posted like any fic in forever and that's mostly bc i haven't written any that i'm satisfied with. in the meantime tho, have a weird snippet of all for the game fic that i started to try and get a handle on some of the characters. it's not finished and i won't be finishing it. but like some of it is pretty okay i think?? one of these days i'll finish another fic. today is not that day but just like imagine it for me. it's totally gonna happen.

The Foxes are losing.

Correction, Neil thinks, as he watches Matt clash with another backliner, the Foxes are self-sabotaging.

The score is one to six, Jackal’s favor, and Neil thinks Allison is about ready to storm off the court. Halftime, finally, is called as Matt throws the third punch he’s thrown all night, and Neil huffs out a sigh. He isn’t getting back on the court tonight—that’s the second yellow card.

People are attempting to pull the grappling backliners apart, but Neil doesn’t spare them much of a glance as he jogs past, racquet slung across his shoulders. He only has eyes for the bench and the goalkeeper sitting on it, fingers interlocked and elbows resting on his knees as he studies the ongoing brawl with an impassive stare. He’s interested. Hopefully that means they can salvage this.

“Andrew,” he says, stepping through the door, “stay in goal tonight.”

He looks up at Neil, looking utterly unfazed. “That’s not my job.”

Neil gives him a look, an unsubtle warning. Those never work, though—he and Andrew both know it. Words are the only thing that will get Andrew on a leash. Neil’s words. Sometimes Kevin’s, even rarer, Renee’s. Neil is the one with the highest success rate.

“Your job,” he murmurs, voice lowering as he leans in, “is to stay in goal tonight. I don’t care what the other team is saying about me. I don’t need your protection.”

Andrew scoffs. Neil swats the back of his head. Were it anyone else, they’d lose fingers, but Andrew just stares up at him, eyes flat and dark. Neil raises an eyebrow. Andrew is silent for a very long moment, before reaching up to tap the ugly scar on Neil’s cheek with his thumb. He doesn’t even blink.

“I know you don’t,” Andrew says, eyes still dark, “this’ll be much more interesting.”

There have been ugly taunts being thrown around all night. Butcher is the new nickname, the cruel, jeering jab that the opposing team has been using to try and throw Neil off his game. The worst part is, he thinks it may be working. At the very least, he got to see Kevin trip the Jackal’s dealer with his racquet “on accident” after the guy had spat out some sort of insult involving his father’s name. Neil certainly wasn’t worried about himself, though—just how Andrew would react when he finally got out on the court.

He has a vindictive, violent, protective streak. Neil isn’t stupid. One particularly nasty word with the intent to cut deep a bit too close to Andrew, and that heavy goalkeeper’s racquet is caving in a ribcage or shattering another arm. He knows that Andrew has chosen him as his mark, the thing he’ll maim for.

But Andrew trusts him. And he, however stupid it is, trusts Andrew. He’ll handle it himself, without sending someone to the hospital. Even if Andrew disagrees with the method and result, he’ll allow Neil this reclamation of power if he deems it necessary.

Neil isn’t religious, but he prays that he does anyway.

The game resumes with Andrew in goal and Nicky going on in Matt’s stead—Neil isn’t sure it’ll be much better, but at least Nicky won’t try to get the other team to punch his lights out the way Matt’s been trying to all night, with the way he’s been behaving. A sour mood, one that Neil doesn’t quite want to interpret or find out the reason for—it takes a lot to ruffle Matt’s feathers like this.

He’s grinning at them through the plexiglass, though, so maybe he was just feeling like a grade-A piece of shit tonight.

Someone yells across the court. Neil hears the word junior, and his shoulders tense. The Jackal’s goalkeeper shouts it again, grinning beneath his helmet. Neil returns his gaze with a dead-eyed stare, not moving even as Kevin claps a hand over his shoulder.

He leans in, saying only for Neil to hear: “Carve them up.”

Oh, he’ll clear through them like a cleaver.

He makes it to half-court and wastes no time as soon as the buzzer’s gone off. Off like a shot, he races down the court—the backliners will handle the incoming strikers, and there’s the deafening crack of Andrew sending a shot down the court—a confirmation of Neil’s confidence that tonight will turn around. His mark is practically right on his heels, but he manages to snatch the rebound out of the air and pivot away, just as the backliner swings his racquet and smashes against his with enough force to send a rattle of pain all the way up his forearms. Neil doesn’t let go—but the ball goes flying. It’s messy and uncoordinated. It has no place in a Class I game. Neil narrows his eyes at the backliner, who just grins.

“C’mon, Butcher,” he says, and Neil’s blood burns.

It takes less than a second for him to lose his tail. He ducks around the backliner, feinting one way before bolting the other, seeing Allison with the ball—the pass is quick and clean, and before long Aaron is tossing it back Andrew’s way.

It clears the court. Neil isn’t sure he’ll be able to catch it, but he takes off anyways—right between the oncoming defense players, weaving across the court with a snarl. It takes nothing for him to get out of their range, even less to snatch the ball out of the air. They’re still coming, though, and he’s hardly in position to shoot. He’s shot from worse angles, but he can give himself better odds—darting towards goal and passing to himself, the goalkeeper’s got his eyes on him and there’s something ugly in them.

Neil makes the goal. He makes sure to make it hurt, too. This got personal as soon as these shitheads let the name Nathaniel leave their mouths—so he strikes back twice as hard, the best way he knows how.

“At least my father cared enough to chase me across the country,” he snaps, eyes gone wild, “is yours even in the stands?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe the right thing. The goalkeeper’s eyes light up with fury, and Neil knows the punch is coming before it gets there. It rattles him down to the teeth, and he’s sent stumbling sideways. A second one comes moments later, and Neil’s not fast enough to get out of range. The buzzer goes off and Neil thinks that sound ringing in his ears is the shouting of his teammates. He doesn’t wait for someone to come to his rescue, though—he hits right back.

It takes three people to pull them apart. There’s definitely blood dripping from Neil’s nose as he backs off, panting and swearing as he does so. He doesn’t fight it as he’s swung around and shoved back toward his team, and the sight that greets him is pretty much what he expected: Andrew, being held back by four of their teammates—Kevin with his arms wrapped around his middle, Allison and Nicky holding him by the arms, Aaron pushing against his shoulders. They don’t let go of him until Neil’s halfway across the court toward them, though Andrew’s still simmering as Neil comes closer.

“You’re bleeding,” Kevin says, and Neil grins, all teeth.

“You told me to carve them up,” he says, sharp as a knife’s edge.

[mostly-vo1d]

Lydia: but I'm not an Argent. and I'm not Allison.

Isaac, still in fucking france: welcome to the club

[vanderwoodlings]

my best friend: a blair/serena playlist (x)

Text version of the tracklist (and commentary) under the cut

1. “Butterflies,” Kacey Musgraves. I love this one as a sense of, like, what them together is—Now, you're lifting me up 'stead of holding me down/Stealing my heart 'stead of stealing my crown

1. “Butterflies,” Kacey Musgraves. I love this one as a sense of, like, what them together is—Now, you're lifting me up 'stead of holding me down/Stealing my heart 'stead of stealing my crown

2. “Cannonball,” Damien Rice. 'Cause it's not hard to fall/And I don't wanna scare her/It's not hard to fall/And I don't wanna lose. Flirting with your bestie,,,,

3. “I Was an Island,” John-Allison Weiss. Aaaaand we’re all the way back to being little kids—just, like, Blair especially doesn’t really let people other than Serena in, and we gotta speak to that

4. “I Think We’re Alone Now,” Tiffany. Children behave/That's what they say when we're together/And watch how you play/They don't understand

5. “Under Your Spell,” Desire. I was wondering… Do you know the difference between love and obsession? Pre-series entanglement vibes

6. “Complicated,” Avril Lavigne. Okay so yeah, obviously, there’s the sense of the Blair that no one else but Serena sees, but I think there’s also a level on which this speaks to pre-series Blair @ Serena, yk?

7. “Wonder,” Chey Rose. Sometimes I wonder/If I might love her/As more than a friend

8. “Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship),” Studio Killers. I don't know how to say this/‘Cause you're really my dearest friend

9. “Nobody Knows Me At All,” The Weepies. Ah, what can you do? There's nobody like you. Nobody knows me at all. Thinking about Serena at boarding school, personally

10. “No One’s Gonna Love You,” Band of Horses. They’re so unhealthy at the start of the series I love it. We're reeling through an endless fall/We are the ever-living ghost of what once was/But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do/No one's gonna love you more than I do

11. “One Week,” Barenaked Ladies. Speaking of! The way Serena rolls with Blair’s anger at the start of season one feels so practiced, I think, for a lot of it—they have their rituals for when things fall apart. But it’ll still be two days ‘til I say I’m sorry

12. “I Don’t Smoke,” Mitski. Uh yeah that same thing but please remember. The kids aren’t alright

13. “I Will Follow You into the Dark,” Death Cab for Cutie. If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks/Then I'll follow you into the dark

14. “Landslide,” Fleetwood Mac. I’ve been afraid of changing/Because I built my life around you

15. “Jolene,” Dolly Parton. Hi Nate!!!

16. “Breakeven,” The Script. What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you/And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok?

17. “Bee-Sting,” The Wombats. You drive me crazier than a wingless bee/You drive me crazier than I wanna be/Put your best dress on, better make it black/I'm going out but I'm not coming back. Isn’t it fun when they drive each other tup the wall?

18. “R U Mine?” Arctic Monkeys. But have we fully considered they get under each other’s skin like that because they can’t communicate about their feelings? I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be/And satisfaction feels like a distant memory/And I can't help myself, all I/Wanna hear her say is "Are you mine?"

19. “The Anchor,” Bastille. Let the parties end when we lose our friends/'Cause you cut through all the noise/Let the years roll on 'till the static comes. They’re soulmates <3

20. “Poison & Wine,” The Civil Wars. You only know what I want you to/I know everything you don't want me to

21. “Easy Silence,” The Chicks. I do not know how this much country ended up on here. And I've got all the world to lose/But I just want to hold on to the/Easy silence that you make for me/It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

22. “Rivers and Roads,” The Head and The Heart. Rivers and roads/Rivers and roads/Rivers ‘til I reach you

23. “Happy Together,” Gerard Way, Ray Toro. No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be/The only one for me is you, and you for me

24. “Who’d Have Known,” Lily Allen. And even though it's moving forward/There's just the right amount of awkward/And today you accidentally called me "Baby". Getting together era

25. “Kiss Goodnight,” I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME. I hope we kiss goodnight/It might just end my life

26. “Still Into You,” Paramore. Can't count the years on one hand/That we've been together/I need the other one to hold you/Make you feel, make you feel better

27. “Cecilia and the Satellite,” Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness. I always love the sense that Serena is unable to be still, even when things are good. Don’t be afraid, Cecilia, I’m the satellite/And you’re the sky

28. “Such Great Heights,” The Postal Service. And I have to speculate/That God himself did make/Us into corresponding shapes/Like puzzle pieces from the clay

29. “Boxes,” The Goo Goo Dolls, acoustic version. You are the memory that won't ever lapse/When twenty-five years have suddenly passed/Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go/Your love's the one love that I need to know

30. “Beautiful Girls,” Sean Kingston. See: the end of 1.04

Bonus track: “Call Off Your Ghost,” Dessa. It’s very intensely them, but it doesn’t fit the ‘working out eventually’ vibe of this playlist

[prettygaurdianriea]

Preview from Hearts Unfold. Read below and subscribe for more.

Chapter 6

“Don’t,” Isa resumed his drive, reaching one hand out and towards her face.

He didn’t hesitate to wipe her left cheek, sliding his fingers through her hair to tuck a lock behind her ear.

“I don’t mind this. I’m his brother. It makes sense you’d react like this, given the fact that I’ve been with you in his stead…I don’t mind,” Isa’s voice sounded pleading and pained.

“I’m not just hear to protect you from physical danger. I’m supposed to take care of your heart, too. Until he returns to you.”

Allison shook her head. “Take care of my heart?” She murmured, turning her head so that she could look at him. The tears were evident on her cheeks, her mascara ruined.

“I can’t lie about how I feel anymore, Isa…I think I’ve known for quite some time now…that I don’t love Ollie anymore…” She ended it there, dropping her gaze to her lap as her hands went back to clutching at her coat.

His eyes widened when he saw her disheveled appearance. He tapped a small black button on his door that automatically opened the glove compartment located closest to Allison. He told her to take the tissues, making a left turn onto the entry ramp for the expressway.

Isa, his heart loud in his ears, said: “You know that isn’t true. Look at the way he’s made you cry.”

He supposed any intelligent man would not tell the woman he had feelings for that she still loved someone else; he was sure a man in his position would have jumped at the chance to claim the girl—cue Kirk Gibson’s walk-off home run in the 1988 World Series—and fist pump.

But even though Isa wanted her words to be true more than anything, he knew she had held so long onto the dream of fading into a romantic sunset with his younger brother, Oliver. They complimented each other in every way, despite the belief Isa held that Allison was also meant for him. He wished he didn’t desire his own brother’s woman, but had every intention never to act on his desires.

Was Allison acting that way because she’d been so lonely without Oliver that she became afraid of her feelings? This logic made more sense to him; though he did not wish to invalidate her.

“Even if that were the case, I’d still fulfill my duties and guard you; your worries only mean you’re human, Allison.”

She reached for the tissues and dabbed at her face, then leaned back in the seat. This wasn’t going as she had hoped. Isa was all but physically throwing her in Oliver’s direction…something she did not want.

Her body shifted in the seat, her face clear and cleansed of any residue mascara. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy from her crying, but absolution showed in her gaze.

“How can I go into a marriage with Ollie when my heart no longer lays with him?” She said softly. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, feeling hopeless.

“Will you..stop the car at the next exit?” Allison asked.

Isa was convinced she was only projecting her feelings on him, but it was hard to get his heart to slow; or for the loud buzzing in his ears to lessen. He gripped the steering wheel, pointedly not saying anything. He drove passed the approaching exit and took the one after.

He instantly recognized their surroundings; there was a rest stop nearby that could easily lead them to the mall from the local streets instead of the highway. Soon, the truck stop came into view.

[tk-productions]

The Alpha & His Little Witch: Eternity: Chapter 11

Previous chapter

David’s Pov

“Honey, can you please go and talk to Marcel about the treaty in my stead? My schedule’s too tight today.” Aaliyah asked

“Yea I was headed for a walk into town anyway.”

“Great, I'll see you at dinner. Love you.”

“Love you too beautiful.”

On my way to meet up with Marcel in the town square something felt familiar but I couldn't pinpoint it.

“Excuse me, do you know this town well?” I heard a woman ask. But that voice….. it couldn’t be. She’s not supposed to be here.

I walked towards the voice to see her back facing towards me. “Kimberly?” I say aloud. She turned around with a stunned look. “Still beautiful after all these years.”

“What are you doing in Moon valley?”

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but it’s nice to see you again David.” Kimberly smiled.

“I wish I could say the same if we weren’t under different circumstances.”

“Oh you mean when you cheated on your wife and I got pregnant? Or do you mean when she sent me and your first born daughter to serenity without a blink of an eye.”

“Look I know things got a little crazy but….. Wait, did you say daughter?” I asked , shocked.

“Yea her name is Piper, sweet girl.” Kimberly responded with a smile that quickly faded “ look I gotta go, I have somewhere to be.” then quickly walked away.

“What the hell was that?” I watched her for a few more seconds before I began walking towards the packhouse. Marcel was in front of the door talking to Jason.  

“Just the two people I needed to see.” 

“Wish I could say the same. Where's Aaliyah?”

“She had a more important meeting that required her attention today so you're stuck with me.”

“Tell Aaliyah we can hold this another day when she’s present.”

“Why when I'm right here?” I questioned

“Because I don’t like you nor do I respect you.” Marcel said matter of factly

I sighed “listen this is business and I don’t need to be your friend. My wife wanted this done today and I want to respect her wishes so let's get to business and save the bullshit for after.” 

Marcel smirked “You're bold as hell. And if you weren't Davina's dad you would have been dead already. I will respect Aaliyah’s wishes today I guess.” Marcel said as he walked inside towards his office.

I didn’t say anything back. I just followed him to his office before he changed his mind again. My daughters mate or not I’ve never met a more disrespectful creature.

Davina’s pov

I sat at home on my couch watching tv. When I felt that familiar energy again and it was in Moon valley. I came to the conclusion that the energy was coming from a witch or warlock. I was good at detection and tracking magical sources. I got up and put on my shoes immediately walking out of the house to find out who it was coming from.

I mindlinked marcel. “ I can feel that energy again somewhere in Moon Valley. I’m gonna look for it.”

“Be careful, I'm in a meeting. I'll check in with you in 20.” He replied before cutting the link.

Walking into the town square I tried to find the energy source. I knew it was here and I could feel it coming closer.

“Davina?” I heard a voice call. I looked to my right and I saw a girl walking towards me.

“Yes, do I know you?” That's when I felt the same source of energy I’ve been looking for.

“It’s me, Allison Fox, your old classmate slash bestie before you met Kat?” 

I froze. I thought I wouldn’t ever see this person again after she disappeared. “Ali? Oh my god where have you been all this time, it's been years.”

“In the flesh hahah, I have been getting stronger. I joined a new coven that fits my values.” Ali replied

“You're most definitely stronger because the energy you were giving off was concerning, but what brings you to Moon valley?”

“Oh nothing, just a little unfinished business I wanted to take care of.” ALi said with a smile.

“What kind of business? Visiting your mom after all these years? You know how hurt she was after you left?” 

“Oh please, my mother is the least of my concerns.” Ali replied, rolling her eyes before looking at me with a smile lightly tapping me on my shoulder. “Let's go for a walk, we have a lot to catch up on.” walking ahead of me I automatically felt my legs start to follow behind her.

“What the fuck is this I can’t speak nor can I control my body.” I kept trying to use my voice but nothing came out.

“Marcel!” I called out to him, completely freaking out, but he couldn’t hear me.”

“Cool spell huh, I thought you would like it. Ali smiled as she got in the car. ”C’mon hun let’s go, I don't have all day. My body betrayed me again as I got in the car and drove off.”

“You know Davina you really don't deserve everything that you have.” Ali said as the car car came to a sudden stop I noticed we were going into the woods. We walked for at least 10 minutes before we stopped next to this clearing. I looked into Ali’s eyes not knowing what was gonna happen next.

“Don’t worry girl, I'm not gonna kill you. I wanted to but that's the job of someone you’ll be meeting sooner than you think. But for now she just wants you to sleep and bleed out a little.” Ali stepped forward drawing a blade.

I tried to run but my legs wouldn't move. “Why is she doing this! Move dammit!” It was too late as I felt the blade go into my stomach twice. I fell to the ground and was dragged to a nearby bush as if she was hiding my body.

“It’s ok Davina, just close your eyes. You’ll wake up later if you're found but if not then you might be out of luck.” Alison said as ran her fingers through my hair before getting up and leaving me alone in the woods, possibly dying. I attempted to call out to her but my eyes got heavier the farther she got and before I knew it everything went dark.

[christinesficrecs]

Hi love your blog found lots of awesome fics. I’m looking for a fic it’s sterek, I’m pretty sure it’s been deleted iv looked for it for ages I’d really loved to reread it. so it’s a anti-Scott also anti-Allison stiles get kicked out of the pack and he joins Dereks pack and I remember a part where stiles goes to sit with Scott and others but they get into a fight so in stead he just go sits with Erica Boyd. Srry its very vague it’s been so long since i read it

Does anyone remember this one?

[ladycalleddella]

Allie Sketchbook Page

Favs:

[activefancaster757]

Cursed child fancast

( Just want to put this out there , I hate Jk Rowling and her transphobic ideas , she is a fucking terf and she doesn’t deserve our money so what I’m doing stead of ignoring her work , I’m going to change thinks and switch it to my will something that has been shown to irritate her more than just not talkings bout her work )

Albus Severus Potter : Louis Partridge

Scorpius Malfoy : Henrik Holm

James Sirius Potter: Connor Swindell

Rose Weasley : Patricia Allison

Lily Luna Potter : Elle Fanning

Hugo Granger : Keiynan Lonsdale

Delphini : Saoirse Ronan

Ted Lupin : Luke Newberry

Not my gifs

[jemej3m]

Alice in wonderland fix but I really don’t know what character Andrew would be. Like the twins seem so obvious but I think the Cheshire Cat would be better bc of the smile and also how extremely unhelpful he is? Or maybe the mad hatter idk. Riko’s definitely the queen of hearts, and Kevin’s the white queen. I just think the concept of Neil running from his parents and falling down a rabbit hole is neat.

brUHHHHHHHH

(i didnt bother with the anthropomorphic shite because effort)

*

Neil flattened his palms on the hem of his sky-blue skirt, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this place. He’d followed a harrowed-looking man with three red hearts tattooed and a pocket-watch clutched in his hand into a rabbit hole, and now he was standing in a field of talking flowers after growing to the size of his father’s manor and back down to an eighth of an inch. 

His father would be furious. He’d vanished from a very important gathering, of which Nathan Wesninski’s son was expected to attend. Then again, his mother would be relieved he’d found an escape, even if it meant she paid the price for his absence. 

Neil was terrified of his father, but he didn’t want his mum to bear the weight of his actions in his stead. So he had to find a way back. 

“Why,” said a voice. “Are you lost, young one?”

Neil looked up. Perched on a large mushroom was a woman, not too much older than himself. She had a head of golden ringlets and a superior-esque smile: between her fingers she held a pipe, smoke drifting and curling in an absent breeze. 

“Who are you?” Neil demanded. He was sure she hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She shrugged. “People call me Allison. You can, if you like. Would you like a puff?”

Neil, who missed his mother already, reluctantly nodded and clambered up the mushroom to sit beside her. 

“A lovely day for a stroll,” she said, slotting her pipe between his fingers. 

Neil took a drag. “What is this place? How did I get here?”

“How would I know?” Allison retorted. “I’m just a girl sitting on a mushroom, smoking. Breathe out, won’t you?”

He did: she curled her finger and he watched in awe as the smoke warped and rippled, forming shapes in the air. The young woman frowned, squinting. 

“Change is imminent, boy. You’d best be off.” 

“How did you -” 

“Goodbye, Neil,” she said, taking back the pipe and disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. He blinked. How had she known his name?

He slipped off the mushroom and lost a black slipper on the way. He walked around the dirt pathway’s bend and found a large, gnarled tree, the path splitting around it and veering off into two directions. Both were shrouded in darkness. 

Neil huffed. Refusing to overthink it, he veered towards the left. 

A new voice stopped him. “I wouldn’t go that way, if I were you.” 

“Well, you’re not me,” he said, petulant. The voice had come from above him: looking up, he spotted a short man, perched on the old tree’s thinnest branch. Another blonde, another strange place, another cryptic message. Neil was beginning to understand this place: it sucked. 

The man hummed, eyebrow arched. “Not many have been stupid enough to ignore me. What did you say your name was?”

“Neil,” Neil snapped. “And I want to go home.” 

“Really?” He fell backwards off the branch and swung, holding on with his knees to look at Neil whilst upside-down. “Why are you here, then, if you’re so keen on where you once were?”

“I just followed the man with the watch,” Neil argued. “I wasn’t looking to get stuck here. Wherever here is. Which is where, exactly?”

“Everywhere,” the man said, voice flat and ineffectual. “Nowhere. You’ll never find answers with questions like those.” 

“Fuck you,” Neil said with false cheer, walking around the man and continuing on the path he’d been told not to take. Spite was a powerful motivator, after all. 

“Neil,” said the man. “Say hello to Betsy for me, won’t you?” 

Neil flipped him off: the blond barked out a single laugh, which echoed in the darkness. 

Neil wasn’t afraid. There were worse things than the dark. His own skin was proof of that. 

Wherever he was going, he hoped to never encounter blonde men lazing on tree branches again. This day was already strange enough: he didn’t need a headache on top of that. 

A house appeared on the edge of the darkness, the dilapidated cottage on a cliff overlooking a large forest. In the distance was a looming castle, shrouded by a melancholic cloud that occasionally sparked and rumbled. A gust of wind sent shivers down Neil’s spine and he curled his arms around his stomach, wishing for a cardigan. 

Behind the cottage was a long table, set for tea. Despite the dozen spots, only three individuals were present, each one as perplexing as the next. 

The first was a tall man, bronzed, hair curling around his ears. He was practically hopping up and down in his chair, talking a million miles a minute. 

The second was a tiny man, sleeping inside of a teapot on the table. With dismay, Neil realised he looked exactly like the blond man who he’d encountered in the dark woods. How had he already arrived, when Neil had just spoken to him?

The third was a woman, oddly calm and composed. She was plump with greying brown hair and smile-wrinkles around her eyes. When the bronzed man poured the teeny blond into his cup of tea, she plucked him out and sat him in a teacup full of sugar cubes. 

“Who are you?” said the tall man, finally acknowledging Neil’s presence. “Are you here for tea? Betsy! We have another guest!” 

“Quite,” the woman said, smiling. Neil didn't trust that smile one bit.

“So you’re Betsy,” he said. 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Come across Andrew, did you?”

“He said to say hello,” Neil curled his fists in the hem of his dress, ignoring the tall man’s lavish stares. 

Betsy’s laughter tinkled like bells in the wind. She readjusted her hat. “Sit Neil. We were just about to serve tea.” 

“Next time, don’t serve me,” the tiny blonde grouched, crossing his arms. He wasn’t Andrew, Neil decided. It was rather plain to see, now that Neil had heard him speak.

“That’s Aaron,” Betsy said. “Andrew’s twin. This is Nicky, their cousin. I am Betsy, though you already knew that. Sugar?” She picked up the cup that Aaron was still in, ignoring his squawk. 

“No, thank you,” Neil said, remembering how his father would pinch his side if he forgot his manners. “It’s an odd time for tea, isn’t it?”

“We are always having tea,” Nicky said, voice saddened. “We are doomed to a constant tea party, where no one ever shows. But it is what it is!” He and Betsy clinked their teacups together and took a sip. “How about you, Neil? What did you do to the King?”

“I’ve done nothing to the King,” Neil said, affronted. “I don’t even know who he is!” 

“But you will,” Aaron said, clambering out of the teacup. “Not knowing him is a grievous offence. Everyone must know and adore the King.” 

“But I’m not from here,” Neil said, miserable.

Without the constraints of a teacup or teapot, Aaron grew to a normal (albeit still short) size, identical to that of his brother. He immediately yawned and ignored the broken crockery and spilled milk, curling up for a nap. 

“Don’t mind him,” Nicky said. “It’s better that he sleeps. He is brilliantly angry when awake.” 

“None of this makes any sense,” Neil insisted. “I just want to go home. Where can I find the man with the pocketwatch? He was the one I followed.”

“Three hearts on his cheek?” Betsy inquired. Neil nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the large castle. “You’ll find him in the castle. He is cursed to never be quite on time: you should be able to catch up with him, if you hurry.” 

Neil looked at the castle’s horrid silhouette. “You’re mad.”

“Yes,” Betsy agreed. “But aren’t we all?”

“I’m not going there. I don’t want to die.” 

“Craziness or death,” Nicky said, sullen. “You can’t escape your fate, and there's only two options.”

“You should visit the Queen before you go to the castle,” Betsy advised. “He may be able to help.”

Nicky was right: Neil was still alive here, so he had to be going insane. “He?” 

“Indeed,” Nicky said. “Why, is there something wrong with that?”

Neil just blinked. There was something wrong with everything here. He hadn’t once encountered something that behaved in a way Neil could predict. “No. Let’s go visit the Queen.” 

*

in a hypothetical pt. 2, we’ll meet the others!

(renee as an enslaved human form of the Jabberwocky??? anyone????)

[dolls-and-cats]

As I've said on this blog before, I live in Texas. Using Dorothy Allison's idea that home is where your people are buried, Texas is home to me: I've got 5 generations buried in the same cemetery. I'm also white, with English-Scottish roots.

As I come to Josefina's books in my middle age, representing NM history in the 1820s, I have wondered why patterns of migration were so different between the Spanish (and later, Mexican) territories in NM vs. TX.

When Josefina meets Mr. O'Toole (in 1825?), he's the first English-speaking American she has met, a result of the opening of the Santa Fe Trail from Missouri. At the same time period, 300 English-speaking white American families (The Old Three Hundred) and enslaved African-Americans they brought with them settled huge tracts of land in central Texas. Why did this American settlement happen in TX and not NM at this time? Why did TX secede from Mexico in the 1830s when NM did not?

I'm going to summarize some things I've learned from a book called Seeds of Empire by Andrew Torget for myself and anyone else who is interested. 

It is not history to be proud of.

1) The Pueblo people in NM were settled farmers. They did drive the Spanish out in the late 17th century, but later the Spanish came back. The Pueblo formed agreements with the Spanish, so by the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the Spanish settlers were co-existing fairly peacefully with the Pueblo in NM. In contrast, nomadic tribes of native people, notably Comanches,  in Texas who were more war-oriented had destroyed attempts by the Spanish to have settlers live in their northern "territories" (territories on paper according to Spain).

2) The land and weather in TX were more favorable for growing cotton than in NM. It seems pretty freaking hot and dry here to me, but the Old Three Hundred settled around rivers that would have irrigated their crops.

3) Eli Whitney's cotton gin, developed in 1793, made it more profitable to sell cotton for use in clothing than it had been previously. In Josefina’s books, her family herds sheep to use for wool. Cotton is more breathable and comfortable than wool. 

The cotton gin increased the demand among white Americans to profit from cotton grown with the labor of enslaved African-Americans. And a lot of the land in the United States was already claimed, so white people of means were eager to find other land where they could grow cotton with enslaved labor. (The following is an image from the public domain).

So the Spanish government, eager to get settlers on lands they owned on paper but did not control, gave land grants to Moses Austin of Missouri in December 1820. The empresario agreement did not specify anything about slavery, but slavery was legal in both the United States and Spain.

Then Mexico seceded from Spain in 1821. Moses Austin died, but the new Mexican government recognized Moses's son, Stephen F. Austin, as the empresario in his father's stead. Stephen F. Austin aggressively advertised the land grants throughout the United States, giving better deals to those who brought slaves, and by 1825 had brought in all families he had contracted to bring in. In that year, 25% of the people in the Old Three Hundred settlement were enslaved (Seeds of Empire chapter 2).

Although Mexico did not abolish slavery in the 1820s, there was strong anti-slavery sentiment in the Mexican government and several vocal abolitionist leaders. Something I did not learn in Texas public schools is how much effort Austin and other American colonists put into influencing Mexican law to keep slavery legal. Afraid that slavery would be abolished, colonists managed to get a law passed while the Mexican legislature was distracted that said it would honor labor agreements from foreign countries. Then, in the late 1820s, they started drawing up legal documents in New Orleans before white American settlers came into Texas in which the white slave-holders "freed" their slaves but set a price which the slaves "owed" them through indentured labor which would take their entire lives to pay - i.e. created a legal fiction in which they reframed slavery as indentured labor in case Mexico outlawed slavery (chapter 3).

All of this tension between the white American settlers profiting from enslaved labor, but fearful about whether the Mexican government would continue legally supporting slavery, is what led up to Texas seceding from Mexico in 1836. White settlers enforced their enslavement of African-Americans under Mexican rule and under independent rule with violence, just as in the United States.

This is gross history, but important to be aware of. I highly recommend Seeds of Empire, which is well written.

I'm including a picture here from a brochure I have for the Varner-Hogg plantation. Varner was one of the Old Three Hundred settlers and first lived in this home in 1824 (the same time period Josefina's stories are set in), although the mansion style building, created with enslaved labor, was not built until later.

[awyeahitssam]

I wrote a “Stiles is transformed into a girl” AU earlier, but it turned out to be just smut.  So here’s this - the same universe in snippets. 

“Goddamn!” Stiles shouted, kicking the examine table hard enough to leave his miniaturized foot aching. 

“Wow, looks like she’s already PMSing.” 

While any comment like Isaac’s not-so-quiet mutter was in poor taste, it was especially so considering the news that had caused Stiles’ outburst.

“You and your misplaced judgement can fuck off, because I was just told that I will never be my parents son again.”

“Wow, hate women much, Stilinski?” Jackson sneered.

“Oh, fuck off!” Stiles snapped. “I like and respect women plenty. That doesn’t mean I’m cool with suddenly turning into one.”

“‘Like’ and ‘respect,’” Erica mimicked. “That sounded a little sexist, Batman.”

Stiles stared at her, openly disbelieving. He glanced around, but nobody seemed like they were about to step in and rebut that particular sentiment. So he took a deep, settling breath and did what he did best, because, as always, nobody else was going to.

“How would you feel if you traded in your breasts and vagina for a dick?”

Erica blinked, taken aback. After a beat she opened her mouth, but Stiles continued before she could respond.

“Sure, maybe it’d be cool at first, but after a few hours or days that novelty would wear off, and you’d want your own body back. Y’know, the body you’ve lived in for eighteen years, and grown a little fond of.” 

Erica was flushed, but that could’ve been caused by anything from remorse to indignation at being chided in front of the entire pack. It wasn’t like he could smell her emotions; if she wanted him to stop, she would have to use her words. Anyway, it had been a long couple of days and he needed to vent a little. 

“Calling me sexist, of all things, because I want to have the body I was born in back is ignorant and just plain stupid. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find somebody with an explanation beyond ‘it’s irreversible’.”

Stiles snatched the taser from his purse and waved it threateningly. “Back the fuck off, dude. You’ve never been interested in me before, so I’m going to go ahead and assume this is more of a ‘I’d like to get my dick wet’ scenario than a ‘wow, Stiles, you have such a great personality, let’s date!’ sorta thing. Not that I’d be interested in the latter, but still.”

If anything, Isaac looked more amused. He stepped forward, and Stiles fought the instinct to pull back. He was smaller than he should’ve been; he’d never been shorter than Isaac before. Still, Stiles had stood up to bullies that were bigger and stronger than him all his life. This wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t so different, either.

Though the fact that Stiles now had to worry about his so-called packmate ignoring what he said and trying to get into his pants regardless pissed him off immeasurably.

“It’s just sex, Stilinski. What, are you still a virgin or something?”

Like Isaac hadn’t been a virgin himself before Derek bit him.

What a douche.

“Seriously dude, fuck off.”

Isaac’s face twisted into something bemused, like he couldn’t understand the word no. Which, seriously? Stiles had always thought Isaac was an asshole who believed he could get away with anything if he pulled out his traumatic childhood membership card, but this was a little extreme. 

“Are you seriously turning down a chance to test out your new parts? What kind of guy are you?”

“I’m starting to wonder what kind of guy you are, Lahey. No means no. I’m not having sex with you, so drop it and move out of my goddamn way.” 

For a moment Isaac went unnaturally still. Predator still. Stiles tensed, preparing to use both the taser and aerosolized wolfsbane Allison had given him. If he took even one step closer, Stiles wouldn’t hesitate.

Perhaps he smelled the violence rising in the air, or maybe Isaac had just decided to take no for an answer. Either way the werewolf gave Stiles a lingering glance, turned on his heel, and slunk back into the preserve, presumably off to practice his wolfy abilities with the others.

“My, my, you really do enjoy facing down predators, Stiles.”

Stiles turned, unsurprised to find Peter leaning against one of the house support beams. He frowned.

“Yeah, apparently a bunny predator and a sexual predator. Thanks for stepping in, there, zombiewolf.” 

Peter shrugged. “You had it handled.”

Stiles sighed, rolling his shoulders and stuffing the taser back in his bag. “I can deal with Lahey if I have to. And apparently having boobs means I’ll have to.” 

Peter met his eyes when Stiles looked up from scowling at his breasts. The man seemed faintly amused, but there was something beyond that.

It seemed the hungry gleam in Peter’s eyes remained whether Stiles was male or female. At least one person didn’t change the way they looked at him, but in his current state the gaze made him feel vaguely vulnerable. And god damn, did he hate that.

Stiles had long since been aware of his comparative weakness to the wolves he ran with, but knowing and seeing were different things. He was several inches shorter and about twenty pounds lighter than he had been, his coordination thrown even more out of wack by his newly proportioned limbs. His reach was less than it had been, his gait wasn’t right, and when he tested swinging his baseball bat his breasts did some uncomfortable swinging as well. Apparently, he needed a bra.

Lydia takes him shopping first thing Friday, because of course she does. Stiles only allows it because it seems he’s going to be in this body a while, until he can prove Deaton wrong, so he might as well buy some pants he doesn’t have to hold up by a belt without enough notches.

“That skirt is just, like, deliberately short!” 

He ends up with three pairs of jeans, a pair of sweats, some cargo shorts (because apparently those are the only kind that don’t stop mid-thigh), a couple of hoodies, and four tank tops. 

He considers throwing his favorite red lacrosse sweatshirt over it like he normally does, but it’s been getting hotter and he’s seen plenty of women jog in sports bras. At this point, it’s whatever. Stiles just needs to get some of this energy out before he shakes to death or something. 

So naturally when he’s taking a break to catch his breath on mile three, Peter materializes at his side, nursing a cup of coffee with a book tucked under his arm.

And he raises a brow, as if to comment on Stiles’ poor endurance, because of course he does. Dick.

“Are you really coming to the woods to read?” he asks, slowly straightening out. His side is still cramping, but he doesn’t want to be in the perfect position for Peter to peer into his bra, even if the man had yet to look away from his face.

“Yes, I enjoy my coffee exclusively with woodland creatures,” Peter sasses back. Stiles smiles, just a bit, because for the first time in days somebody is treating him normally. Even if it is Peter, and his brand of normal is often a bit creepy. “What are you doing in the woods, Stiles? The big bad wolf might find you.” 

It wasn’t a new joke, but--”I’m not Little Red.” 

“No,” Peter sighs dramatically, “You’ve done away with your hoodie. I suppose I’ll have to find another young man to coax away from grandmother’s house.” 

Man. Young man.

Stiles lets out a breath he wasn’t aware of holding and walks forward, shoving at Peter’s arm. It doesn’t budge, holding the coffee stead, and Peter looks surprised at the casual touch. “Replacing me so easily? Thank god.”

Clever lips curl. “I could never,” the werewolf replies, before waving him on. “Enjoy your run, Stiles.”

Stiles grins back, quick but genuine. “Enjoy your book, dude. Later!” 

And he’s off.

Stiles looks down at the sundress laid across his bed and feels the air stutter from his lungs. This dress had been reserved for the long summer days of his childhood, before sickness had taken his mother. He remembers balancing on her feet as she spun them around the living room, both singing at the top of their lungs. He remembers her kissing the shirt over his heart and telling him that he was her favorite person in the world. He remembers trying to swing higher than her and failing in the nearby park, and how she had always laughed at his pout and said, “It isn’t a competition if I don’t try, Mischief!” 

Stiles had forgotten he had stashed it in the back of his closet when his father had been gathering all Claudia’s things to donate or store in the attic. 

“Stiles?” Scott called, knocking on the door. “Dude, you alright in there?” 

“I—” Stiles took a deep breath, tearing his eyes from the dress and going to his closet. “Yeah, I’m… I’m good. Just give me a few minutes to change.”

“There’s sex reassignment surgery,” Lydia mentions one day, five weeks in. Stiles is in the middle of reading over the translated Latin she’d just handed him, and only makes a vague sound of comprehension.

“Stiles!” 

“What?” Stiles snaps, glaring up at her. He blinks a few times, processing what she’d said, and shakes his head. “No, Lydia, I - I want my body. Besides, that's not something I could ever afford, not with the debt we’re in.” 

“I have money, Stiles,” she says nonchalantly, and it’s probably unreasonable, how that makes him want to break things.

He takes a deep breath and looks her in the eyes. “I’m getting my body back, Lydia, and I’m not taking your money.”

“Stiles, you need to stop. I hate to say this, but you need to hear it, okay? You’re never going to be a guy again. Deaton said as much, and it was okay at first, you trying to prove him wrong, but this is getting out of control. You’re skipping classes, talking to Peter, and playing around with some seriously dangerous stuff. Stuff Allison’s dad would probably put a bullet through you for! Stiles, you’re going to be in a girl’s body for the rest of your life. I just don’t want you making all these shitty choices to go along with this shitty thing that happened to you. I care about you, man… you’re like my - my sister. So please stop. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Your sister?” Stiles snarled. “I’m not a fucking girl, Scott, female body or not. My mind is still male--”

Sorry to leave off there, but it’s all I’ve got. Stiles definitely shuts Scott down with his rant, though.

[library-phantom]

Full of broken thoughts

I’ve been thinking about theories for next season of TUA and one of my favorite ideas is the siblings meeting their alternate versions in the new timeline. So, I had to make this about Klaus and think about he meeting his alternate self. But, I had to make it a little angsty and here we are! Look, I just wanted to write Klaus getting the support he deserves... As usual, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. 

Summary: When the Hargreeves siblings go back to 2019 and find some different things they don't know what to do. All of them feel lost, but Klaus is feeling even worse upon seeing a different Ben and feeling his powers get too much to handle. It couldn't get worse, right? Unless seeing a confused familiar face counts as a possibility 

Or...

Klaus meets his alternate self in a different timeline...and his sister

Warnings: a little angst and mentions of the possession scene from season 2, but the ending is happy. The title is from “Hurt” by Johnny Cash.

(GIF isn’t mine)

"Dad, who the hell are these assholes?"

Those words were still echoing in his head. Ben was alive, he was standing there in front of him. But, that wasn't the same Ben. The one who would get annoyed at his behavior, his jokes...no, that Ben was gone. That was what Vanya said, right? Then, that so-called Sparrow Academy and their dad showed up and he couldn't understand what was happening. He followed his siblings out of the house while Five was talking too fast for his own good, saying how they messed up the timeline again. 

“So, they are the Umbrella Academy in this timeline?”, Luther asked while Five paced around. They finally stopped walking and were standing in an alley far from the Academy.

“I don’t know! I have no idea what is going on! If they are here, then what happened to us? Where are we? I need to think!”, sighed Five. He looked around, searching for something to write and he found an old marker next to the wall. He turned his back to the others and immediately started writing his equations in the wall of that building, occasionally talking to himself.

“Five, slow down, we need to talk about all of this and…”, Diego tried to say, but Five turned to face his siblings again, rage in his eyes.

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do? If they are the new Academy and Dad is alive, it means there are different versions of ourselves in this parallel timeline and…”

Klaus couldn't focus on any word his brother was saying, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ben. As if it couldn’t get any worse, the voices of the ghosts were coming back again, it seems that only the sight of their Dad made him remember everything about the mausoleum. Those thoughts worked like a bait and the voices were banging in his head again. Adding to this how tired he was because of the time travel with the suitcase, he felt horrible. 

“Guys…”, he tried to say in a weak voice.

“Not now, Klaus!”, Five stopped him while turning back to his equations.

How did the voices get so loud? He needed to breath, take some time, process everything that was going on.

"Klaus, where do you think you're going? We must stay together now more than ever! We have no idea about how bad things are right now!", Five snarled at him, but Klaus didn't care. Vanya and Allison tried to stop him, but he walked away from his siblings, waving his Goodbye hand and started walking without any destination in mind.

Their voices were getting loud again, way too loud. He took some deep breaths while trying to focus and push them away, but he also thought about getting drunk or looking for one of his old dealers. Maybe he could find Old Joe around here, right? No! He wouldn't do that! A little voice inside his head was telling him he could get over this, he stayed three years sober in the 60’s, he had to keep on like that. But, the pills made everything so much easier, it wasn't like he had a reason to actually stay sober anymore. No, he was strong enough, he could do this!

The voices calling him were getting louder by each step he took, his physical state wasn't helping him keep his control now, the emotional side was even worse. 

Klaus...Klaus...Klaus…

He didn't actually realize where he was walking to, but the ghosts were so loud that he had to stop for a moment, leaning in a wall with eyes closed, his fingers on his temples, a headache starting to show. Why didn't the voices stop? Why couldn't he make it stop? He needed to calm down, he couldn't pass out now, he had to…

The door of the shop opened and hit his back and he almost fell to the ground. He was so out of himself trying to control his powers that he didn't realize he was standing in the front door of a coffee shop.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you ok?", a worried young woman said with a trembling voice. Klaus was still keeping his right hand on his temples, keeping his back to her while steading his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ok, don't worry. I didn't actually notice where I was standing", he said trying to sound as calm as possible while turning to face her. But, when he did, he saw her staring at him with a frown. 

"Wait, how are you here? I’ve just talked to you back inside right now! And, where did you get those clothes?", she asked very quickly. Then she raised her eyes to his head. "What about this hat?"

"Er, I'm sorry, I think you're mistaking me for someone else", Klaus said in a confused tone. "I don't think we ever met."

"Are you kidding me? Are you really saying you don't recognize your own sister anymore?"

His what now? Klaus only had two sisters and none of them looked like this woman. She was still studying him with a confused look and Klaus noticed she had short black hair and hazel eyes and he assumed she was a little younger than him, if only he actually remembered how old he was now…

"Look, I don't want to be rude, but I really don't know you!"

"Sure, Klaus, keep playing your games with me, pretend it's funny!"

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

"Because you're my brother, maybe? Hello, Earth to Klaus, Liz is calling! God, are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

His head was hurting more and more. Her name was Liz? Did she actually call him by his name? He couldn't think properly, but then, he vaguely remembered something Five mentioned before he walked away from his siblings. Apparently they were in a parallel timeline and there were other versions of themselves? And he was lucky enough to stumble into someone who was the sister of his parallel self? Destiny really liked to make fun of him, right?

"Listen, Liz, I think I know what's happening and I can explain", Klaus started saying. But, then, his vision became a blur and he couldn't say anything else. Without strength to keep himself standing, he fell to the ground, leaning his back on the wall of the shop again. One of the last things he could see was Liz coming closer to him, a worried look on her face.

"Who is this guy, Liz?", he heard a familiar voice say. Maybe too familiar, he thought while he blinked his eyes and saw a man next to Liz. He felt some shivers when he blinked again and wondered if he was looking at a mirror, because the man staring at him was exactly like Klaus. 

His eyelids were heavy when he opened his eyes again. Blinking a few times to adjust to the light, he saw Liz staring at him, a sense of worry over her face. Then, by her side, there was a mirror. No, not a mirror, but that was what felt like. Klaus wondered how twins usually felt while looking at someone else with the exact same appearance and he came to the conclusion that he would be very uncomfortable with this idea. If it was any consolation, his other self tried to keep some distance while looking at him with wide eyes. Besides the curlier hair pulled back in a bun and the clothes with light colors, they were a copy of each other. Oh, who was he trying to deceive? They were exactly like each other…

"Where am I? How long have I been like this?", Klaus asked trying to look around. He was sitting on a couch in a small office without any windows to let the sunlight in. A little coffee table was on the side of the couch and he noticed a glass of water. Liz nodded as if saying that he should drink that and so he did. He didn't realize how much he needed it till now, his throat was terribly dry.

"In my office, in the back of the coffee shop. You passed out and we brought you here, it’s been almost two hours. Are...are you feeling ok?", Liz said, a little hesitant. Klaus nodded before looking at his copy standing next to her.

"Why do you look exactly like me?", his other self asked, trying to not be rude. Klaus held back a laugh while sipping the water again.

"Believe me, I wish I could explain and make you believe. I hate to admit it, but Five was right after all…"

"Five? Five what?", the other Klaus furrowed his brows. Gosh, it was like looking at a reflection! 

"It's not 'what', it's 'who'", corrected Klaus. "He's my brother. Well, I'm not sure anymore if I can say he's my little brother or my older brother, time is so weird lately…"

"Wait, wait, you brother's name is Five? What do you mean?"

He wondered for a moment if he could actually talk about everything. Well, nothing could get any worse, right? 

"Oh, Liz, I wish it was that easy to explain...but, things can't get crazier than already are, so here we go…"

Klaus told them about his siblings, the Academy, the powers, the apocalypse, the time travel, the new apocalypse, the other time travel...by every word he said, the confused faces of Liz and the other Klaus only got bigger. He could almost hear Five screaming at him for saying all of that for two strangers, how dangerous that was. What if the Commission found them here? What if they tried to kill all of them again? Klaus didn't care, for some reason, he had a feeling that he could trust Liz and her brother. Even though it was weird looking at a different copy of himself.

When he finished saying everything, he just let his arms fall to the side of his body with a sigh while studying Liz's face along with her brother. 

"I...well...I don't know how to handle all of that right now", she said fumbling with her hands. Her brother, on the other side, had his eyes locked on the floor for some moments before looking at Klaus again.

"You said you have powers, right? You can see ghosts?"

"See, listen, talk to them if I'm in the mood. Apparently they can also possess me which is not cool at all", Klaus answered while remembering how bad he felt when Ben left his body. However, he didn't want to think about Ben, it was still too painful.

"That explains the pills I got from the psychiatrist", the alternate Klaus said, pulling a little tube with pills from his pocket. "The doctors never understood what was wrong with me, I lost count of how many different medicines they gave me until we got to this one. I just feel numb all the time, but this stopped the visions."

"You see them too?", Klaus said in a low voice, almost like trying to hide from the ghosts, so they wouldn't find him again.

"Yes. I feel dizzy most of the time, but that's the price I'm willing to pay for the silence in my mind."

Klaus tried to force a little smile at his alternate version, but the headache hit him again, stronger than before. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth to stop himself from screaming. His powers have been getting stronger lately, but it didn't mean he knew how to be in control all the time. 

"Klaus? Klaus, look at me", Liz said kneeling on his side. Klaus took a few breaths before turning to her while following her voice, his eyes still closed. His head was hurting so much with those voices again…"Breath, take a deep breath, focus on something else. Think about your siblings, maybe this will help."

"No, they are too loud, I can't push them away!", Klaus cried, trying to cover his ears.

"Remember them, Klaus! Remember your siblings' names, how you met each other again in the 60’s, how all of you arrived here. Focus on something!", Liz's voice seemed to be far away from him. He felt some movement on his side, his other self was getting closer to try to help him somehow.

"They will be looking for you, you'll need to go back for them", his other self told him with a calm voice.

"No, they won't", Klaus laughed, finally opening his eyes and looking at them. "They don't take me seriously, they still see me as a junkie after all this time. They just can't believe I can get sober if I want to, they probably didn't even notice how long I've been gone today and, to be honest, it wouldn't be the first time anyway! I hear these voices all the time, people calling my name and thinking I can help them, but I can't...not even the person I love believed me when I tried to save his life. My dead brother could take control of my body and nobody cared about how bad that made me feel! Now he's gone for good and nobody seems to care about it, but me!"

He didn't realize how he was screaming when he finished saying all of that, but the pain was so much that made him snap. At least, the voices stopped and his head wasn't pounding so much now. He felt sweat forming in his forehead and tears burning his eyes. That was the truth, right? His siblings didn't take him seriously, he would always be the drug addict, the weird brother, the irresponsible one. 

"Klaus? I know I can't say I understand how you're feeling now, but I want to help you somehow", the alternate Klaus said, while touching his arm. "In some weird way we are both the same person dealing with these voices in our heads. Oh, yeah, baby!", he added when Klaus gave him a frown. "If I run out of pills, I have some serious issues, just ask Liz! My little sister had some hard times with me when we were younger. But, I know I can count with her support, no matter what. And, I don't care about what is going on with you and your siblings and all this crazy shit with different timelines. As long as you're here, we want to help you in any way we can. I mean, if you want us to, of course."

Klaus looked at both of them, Liz was still kneeling on the side of the couch, a small smile showing in her face before standing up to hug him followed by her brother and Klaus let his arms hold both of them. Maybe they could be the ones to help him. Maybe that other Klaus could understand his pain and Liz would try to help him like she tried to help her brother. Could they really help him? Perhaps, that was the only way to find out.