#agnes: okay okay okay. could you maybe explain a bit more please?

[cream-and-tea]

love reading through lay me down and finding pallaspov excerpts where the School Mandated Dissociative Disorder really jumps out they’re really like wow i sure felt a feeling right there and i’m like buddy would you care to elaborate on that at all? and they’re like. no.

[galactic-magick]

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira​ @midnight-lestrange​ @thestrangeundoing​ @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella​ @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph​ @thelanawinterrs @sunproud​ (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

-

-

-

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

 -

 That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

 -

 It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

 -

 Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

 APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

 “I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - From the Series Finale (a deleted scene)

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3

[Summary: You’d traveled to Westview to rescue Peter. Getting locked away by some sinister witch might’ve delayed you a bit, but you’d escaped, and you weren’t going to be stopped again.

Warnings: mild language, references to injury / mind control / death

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader. This was meant to be a flashback during Night 2, but it turned into way too long of a digression. So, here it is: presented as a deleted scene while I finish Night 3. It’s a bit sparse in the places where I would’ve just been summarizing the episode, but I figure you already know the details. Into Tomorrow is a continuation of the scene, more or less.

Tag list: @cowboyenorgy ]

After an indeterminate amount of time sneaking around Westview, trying to find your way back to the street where Vision lived, you’d finally done it. It might’ve taken days, or maybe it’d only been hours. It was so hard to tell here.

One minute it was spontaneously Halloween. The next, the entire layout of the town kept shifting around you until you were completely lost. But you’d made it.

As much as you’d wanted to go straight to find Peter, you knew you couldn’t do it on your own. You didn’t know how to counteract the witch’s powers. Vision seemed to know something, though. He was your best chance.

Unfortunately, his house seemed to be deserted. From your hiding place, you couldn’t see any lights on, or any signs of movement. Maybe he was at work? You’d waited this long already; you figured you might as well stay put until he came home.

And just as you’d decided on that course of action, the sound of breaking glass erupted from the neighbor’s house. The attic window shattered outward, and two people crashed through it, landing on the lawn.

One of them – a woman you hadn’t seen before – stuck a perfect three-point-landing more or less facing your direction. The second – a man – didn’t land nearly as gracefully, but still seemed unhurt. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain it had to be Peter.

He stood, moving as though to cut off the woman’s escape route. He gestured for the woman to get up.

“I can do this all day, babe!” he called.

Scowling, the woman straightened up, dusting herself off and clearly getting ready for round two. The witch was nowhere in sight. Maybe you’d have a better chance of getting through to Peter if he was on his own. You scrambled out of hiding.

“Peter!” you shouted.

Confused, they both turned to look your way. You didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Peter sped over to you – and you just then noticed how weirdly slow he was moving. Instead of almost appearing to teleport, he was a visible blur that your gaze could follow as it approached you.

Peter stopped directly in front of you. He smiled.

“Hey again,” he said, and cheerfully threw you halfway down the block.

You landed hard, skidding another yard or so before coming to a stop. You thanked your lucky stars that you’d landed on somebody’s lawn, not on the pavement. When the hell had Peter gotten superhuman strength, anyway?

As you sat up, the woman ran to your side.

“Are you alright?” she asked, casting a wary glance back towards Peter, who was strolling casually towards you both.

“I’m okay,” you said. You were winded, and you could tell already that you’d added some new scrapes and bruises to your growing collection, but it didn’t seem like you’d been hurt.

“Captain Rambeau,” she introduced herself, offering a brisk handshake.

“You can call me Ace,” you said, “I’m… a friend.”

“Of his?” The captain raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly himself at the moment.”

Peter had stopped a ways away from you. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try to attack again.

“You called him ‘Peter,’” said Captain Rambeau. “Is that his real name?”

You nodded.

“Listen, ladies, if you wanted to make this a threesome, all you had to do was ask!” Peter called.

“And I’m guessing that’s not his real personality,” said the captain, catching sight of your disgusted expression.

“Not remotely,” you said.

The captain shrugged. “Well, guess we know what Agnes is into. The witch,” she explained. “The one who’s controlling him.”

“Why’s he just standing there?” you asked. You weren’t opposed to getting a second to breathe, but it was weird.

“I think he’s just supposed to stop us from getting to Wanda,” she said.

At that point, you hadn’t the faintest idea who Wanda was or how she was part of this whole mess, but you figured you could ask later. As you looked over at Captain Rambeau, you noticed her eyes glowing an unearthly blue. That was… unexpected.

“It’s that necklace,” she said. “That’s how Agnes is controlling him. If we can find some way to break it… But he’s too fast.”

Fast? Maybe by normal human standards, but he was moving at a crawl compared to his usual speed. Wait. That was it.

Your abilities didn’t work well in this world, but maybe they’d be more effective against something from your own world.

“Listen,” you said. “I think I can slow him down for you, if you think you can get that necklace. Act like you’re going to make a break for it, and when he tries to go past me, I’ll catch him.”

Captain Rambeau nodded, and took off down the street. Peter immediately gave chase.

Back home, Peter was far too fast for you to ever catch. But here, with him moving like he was running through quicksand? You might actually stand a chance.

You took a deep breath, reaching out. You felt a familiar resonance, and the sensation of something setting like a fishhook.

Peter slammed to a halt like he’d hit a brick wall. He paused for a moment, seemingly confused. He tried to run, but only managed a casual jog. It was working.

Then Peter turned back towards you, his expression something between furious and impressed. Your arm began to shake as you felt him struggling against you.

You really hoped this Captain Rambeau wasn’t going to leave you hanging.

“Well, looks like you’re good for something after all, huh, babe?” he said, strolling towards you.

“Peter would know,” you said, trying to keep his focus on you. “I don’t just break the laws of reality. I can enforce them, too.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I really wish you weren’t complicating things so much. You could’ve just walked away, but-”

At that moment, Captain Rambeau dashed in, grabbing hold of the necklace and tearing it from Peter’s throat.

With a gasp, Peter’s smug expression shifted into a look of horrified panic. He looked at his hands like he was shocked he could move them. Then his gaze snapped back to you.

Your name – your real name – burst from his lips in a strangled cry. He rushed towards you, but stopped short, eyes widening as he took in the state of you.

“Oh, God… What did I-?”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said. “I’m okay.”

You took his hands, and for a second you were worried that he was going to collapse.

Peter shook his head vehemently. “But you’re hurt!”

“Are you kidding?” you said. “Raven’s kicked my ass worse than this in training.”

Which was a lie, but at that point, you would’ve said just about anything to calm him down. It seemed to work, but only just.

“You’re here,” he said. His voice was quieter now. “You’re actually here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you said. “I came to bring you home.”

That wild look hadn’t left Peter’s eyes as they stared into yours. Gently, you took his face in your hands. At your touch, his eyes closed, and his head bowed just a little. You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. He laid his hands on yours. His shaky breathing began to grow steadier.

Before either of you could say anything else, you were interrupted be the honking of a car horn.

Or rather, a funnel cake truck horn, to be exact. The driver – a bespectacled brunette – leaned her head out the window.

“As adorable as this is – and hi, by the way,” she called, “I think we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Peter blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. He turned to Captain Rambeau.

“She’s right. Those kids are in danger. We have to do something. I’ll explain everything later,” he said, looking back at you, clearly distressed. “You’re already hurt. Just… stay safe until we get this under control, okay? Please.”

It killed you to think of letting Peter out of your sight after you’d only just gotten him back, but you nodded. You didn’t know what was going on or what kids were in danger, but you and Peter were X-Men. The safety of civilians always came first.

“It looks like they were headed downtown, Darcy,” Captain Rambeau called back to the driver. “Take Ace and follow us there, alright?”

With one last backward glance, Peter took off after Captain Rambeau.

As quickly as you were able, you climbed into the passenger side of the truck, smiling awkwardly at the driver as she put it back in gear and started off.

“Dr. Darcy Lewis,” she introduced herself, side-eying you. “Not the kind of doctor you clearly need, though. Sorry.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said. There was silence for a moment.

“So…” she said, “You and fake Pietro, huh?”

“His name is Peter,” you said, “But, yeah. I came to rescue him. We’re… not from around here.”

You were honestly too tired to explain more than that, but Dr. Lewis seemed to accept that explanation.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve met people who aren’t from around here.” She shrugged. “You ever heard of Thor? God of Thunder? He’s a friend of mine. Nice guy; great muscles.”

She said it so casually. Any other time, you would’ve thought this woman was nuts. But after time in Westview? Her claims didn’t sound that outlandish.

“Huh. Nice.” You nodded, impressed. Then, “This is gonna sound like a stupid question, but, uh… Who’s Wanda?”

Dr. Lewis gaped at you incredulously for a moment.

“Oh, boy…” she sighed.

Dr. Lewis gave you the rundown on the whole situation, and frankly? It was a lot. Parts of it – stuff about Avengers and Infinity Stones and snaps and blips – didn’t make any sense to you. But you did manage to grasp some of the more immediately relevant bits. Namely:

Wanda was immensely powerful. She had a twin brother named Pietro who – like your Peter – had superhuman speed, and who had died saving lives, leaving Wanda completely alone in the world.

Vision was apparently some sort of android, and also technically dead…?

But some real piece of work named Hayward had recreated a brainwashed zombie version of Vision and brought it to life using Wanda’s powers, and he was now trying to kill Wanda to cover up his crimes.

How the witch named Agnes and her kidnapping and mind-controlling Peter played into this, Dr. Lewis wasn’t entirely sure.

“Finally!” she said, apropos of nothing. “I swear, Wanda must’ve changed the whole layout of the town. The center is just up ahead.”

There was some sort of commotion overhead, and on the ground, too. Two young boys (probably the kids Peter had mentioned) stood in the street, facing down some military-looking types.

You and Dr. Lewis both shouted in alarm as one man pulled out a handgun and aimed it directly at the kids. From around the corner, Captain Rambeau and Peter ran in, and –

Shots rang out. You could only watch in horror as the man opened fire.

The strange blue blur that was Peter struggled to catch and redirect as many as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Two rounds tore through Captain Rambeau’s midsection, but…

You were still too far away to see exactly what happened, but Captain Rambeau seemed to glow, or phase out of sight for a second, and then she straightened up – unharmed. One of the boys raised his hand, evidently catching the single bullet that had gotten past Peter and the captain.

The man – Hayward, judging by the doctor’s lurid swearing – threw down his gun and hurried to climb back into his vehicle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Dr. Lewis said under her breath. “Ace, hang onto something.”

“What are you- Oh, shit!”

You grabbed the door to brace yourself as Dr. Lewis gunned it down the street. Before Hayward could begin to make his escape, the funnel cake truck slammed into the side of his Humvee, pinning him inside.

Hayward turned, glaring daggers at Dr. Lewis.

“Have fun in prison,” she said cheerily.

You know what? You take it all back. Dr. Lewis was, in fact, kinda nuts. It was still a pretty badass move, though.

As steam began trickling from the truck’s busted radiator, Dr. Lewis unfastened her seatbelt.

“Well, looks like this thing’s not going anyplace, and neither is he,” she said, nodding at Hayward. “We might as well – I dunno – see if we can help or something.”

As you followed her lead, you heard Peter shouting: “How was that in any way ‘staying safe?’”

“Yeah, well, that’s what seatbelts are for,” Dr. Lewis called back. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter was there beside the truck as you stepped down out of it. You shifted your weight experimentally onto your injured leg, and let out a strangled yelp. Okay, bad idea. Peter immediately looped your arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Lean on me, lean on me,” he said, “I got you.”

You fought the impulse to collapse against him completely. You’d spent… days? You didn’t know how long – scrambling and searching and breaking out of hospitals and hiding in hedges just to get back to him. You just wanted to hold him and sleep for at least a week.

But the whole business wasn’t over yet. As Peter helped you limp around the truck, you saw that there was another man standing by the kids and Captain Rambeau, talking to Dr. Lewis. He skin was an unnatural shade of red (was that face paint or something?), and he was wearing this strange caped costume. Catching sight of Peter, the man’s eyes narrowed.

“No, it’s okay,” said Dr. Lewis. “He’s cool. He’s with us now.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. His gaze shifted to you, and he tilted his head curiously.

“Ace?” he said.

You blinked. “Vision?”

The voice was the same. The eyes, too. You wouldn’t have recognized him otherwise. He was the only friendly face you’d seen in this place. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing him again. Still, you remembered what Dr. Lewis had said – you’re talking to a ghost.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Dr. Lewis.

“We met, briefly,” you said, “When I first got into town. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So, the friend you were looking for…?” Vision inclined his head inquiringly towards Peter.

You nodded. Peter waved, letting out a stilted, rueful laugh.

“Your children…?” you asked, gesturing to the boys.

Vision put his arms around them both, a proud smile brightening his worried expression.

“My children,” he said, “And… up there is my wife.”

As one, the whole group looked up to the two women still locked in combat above you.

Captain Rambeau frowned. “Can’t we do something?”

“I tried,” said Vision, “But it seems that Wanda wants to finish this on her own terms, unaided.”

The others kept worried eyes on the proceedings, but Peter turned his attention back to you, helping you to sit down on a nearby bench. He knelt in front of you.

“Scale of one to ten,” he said, “How worried should I be?”

“One,” you said. “I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything’s broken, so I’m calling that a win.”

“Hmm, nope. Still worried. Less dire question – why is everybody calling you ‘Ace?’”

“The professor said not to tell anybody my real name,” you said. “There was no way of knowing what I was walking into. We didn’t think we should tell anyone too much.”

“Oh…” Peter’s mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “I kinda told Monica everything when we were running over here.”

Red light flashed blindingly above you, drawing your attention upwards.

[The battle proceeds as in canon, ending with Agatha’s defeat.]

Wanda turned back to the others, smiling. The boys ran to hug her, and Vision was close behind. You were too far away to hear what was being said, but at Vision’s words, Wanda’s smile faded. Putting their arms around each other, the family walked a little ways down the street.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Peter shook his head. A pained expression crossed Captain Rambeau’s face. She closed her eyes, turning away.

“This Vision was never real to begin with,” said Dr. Lewis, her tone oddly solemn. “I think he’s saying goodbye.”

At that, she, too, turned away. Whatever passed between Wanda, Vision, and their children – their farewell wasn’t for prying eyes to watch.

Peter seized your hand and leaned his forehead against your shoulder. You bowed your head over his, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt something pass over you.

It was that same feeling of overwhelming grief that’d struck you when you first entered Westview, but you understood it now. If you had lost Peter – truly lost him, for good – you imagined that it’d feel something like that.

It only lasted a second, though. In its wake, everything felt brighter, colder.

When you looked up, you cast an uncertain glance back down the main street. There stood Wanda and her children.

Vision was nowhere to be seen.

Wanda pressed her hands to her mouth and slowly sank to her knees. The boys knelt beside her, crying openly, and she pulled them close.

Your heart broke to see them, and you turned away again. It felt wrong to intrude on their grief, even from a distance. Westview had changed. The town seemed faded and dull, somehow desaturated.

Peter had changed, too. His hair was silver again, instead of that strange dirty-blond shade, and his clothes were the same ones he’d been wearing when he was taken.

“You’re all yourself again,” you said.

Peter looked down at himself in surprise. His eyes widened, and he frantically felt his pockets before letting out a sigh of relief. Something about him looked too bright for your pale surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that neither of you belonged to that world, or maybe it was the fact that you were so damn glad to have him back.

Or it might’ve been that this was the first time you’d seen him smile since he was freed from the witch’s control. You leaned in and kissed him.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, another conversation interrupted him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dr. Lewis was saying. “I was just trying to keep him from getting away.”

She and Captain Rambeau surveyed the dented Humvee in which Hayward was still trapped.

“Well, we’re gonna have to get him out of there somehow,” said the captain.

“Can’t you do some sorta…” Dr. Lewis extended her arms, wiggling her fingers in the direction of the vehicle, “Now?”

Captain Rambeau laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Darcy.”

Suddenly, the former funnel cake truck lurched. With a strained metallic groan, it was dragged slowly back and away from the Humvee, leaving just enough space for someone to hypothetically get through and apprehend Hayward.

“What the-?”

Captain Rambeau turned to look back towards you and Peter, or rather, to the street behind you. You caught Peter’s eye just before turning to look yourself, and smiled. Of course.

Peter’s eyes widened again. “Dad?”

“Professor?” you exclaimed.

You might’ve expected Mr. Lehnsherr to come after Peter when he found out what’d happened, but you certainly didn’t expect to see him standing on the main street of Westview with Professor Xavier at his side. Peter stood up, but anything he might’ve said was cut off – once again – by Dr. Lewis.

“Hey, cheekbones!” she called out. “Nice one.”

Upon realizing that he was the one being addressed with that remark, Mr. Lehnsherr gave her a perplexed smile and lowered his arm. But his expression turned serious again at the sound of approaching sirens.

“It’s okay,” said Captain Rambeau. “Agent Woo is with is. I’ll talk to him.”

She and Dr. Lewis went to meet the approaching vehicles, while Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor moved quickly towards you.

“Are you two alright?” the professor asked.

“We’re fine,” you said.

“I’m fine,” Peter corrected. “You can barely walk.”

The professor���s brows furrowed in concern. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I’m glad you did, though” you said frankly. “I wouldn’t wish this experience on anybody.”

Peter turned his attention to Mr. Lehnsherr, eyeing him with an expression that seemed a little incredulous, but pleased.

“So. you really came all the way from Genosha for me?” he said.

“I heard you’d been abducted to another reality; of course I came back. Something this ridiculous could only happen to you, Peter,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. Then his expression softened, “I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

“What happened here, exactly?” asked the professor, as he surveyed the street.

“Well, my perspective on events might be kinda limited, but you can see for yourself.”

You leaned towards the professor slightly, offering your thoughts. He touched your temple, and that odd dreamlike sensation washed over your mind as he sifted through your memories of Westview. You were glad you’d asked Dr. Lewis to explain things to you. Maybe the professor could glean more meaning from the story than you’d been able to.

When you opened your eyes, the professor looked pensive, and no less concerned.

“I think it’s high time we get the two of you home,” he said.

“Not that I want to distrust government agents,” said Mr. Lehnsherr, keeping a wary eye on Hayward’s arrest in progress, “But I’m inclined to agree with Charles.”

Peter frowned hesitantly. His gaze had drifted to Wanda and her sons.

“Just… give me one minute, alright?” he said. “There’s something I wanna say first.”

[fakecrfan]

Ok. So Martin has to figure out what the Eye is at some point before the Goggles Incident or else he wouldnt know to blind himself to escape, right? So. When and how did he figure that out? And like, I get that he cant accept what the Eye offers as real love but wouldn't he try bargaining to, idk, date elias or smthg if the other 3 are released kind of like in aoye? Why would the Eye not go for that in this scenario?

Okay so--yes. Martin does discover what’s going on before the goggles incident. And of course, he discovers you can quit by gouging your eyes out. But it happens in phases.

Phase 1: he gets into the tunnels sometime after the Jane Prentiss threat blows over (but Martin’s been evicted and he’s weirdly having trouble finding a new place.) He gets information on the entities in general from Leitner.

Martin still promises he’ll come back and they’ll exchange more info. When he does come back, he finds Leitner completely fucking dead, so that’s how that goes.

(There is also some drama with the polycule and how they react to the tunnels--but I got another ask on that so I will expound on that Later :) )

Phase 2: Martin, after so much running around and trying to find out what eye monster is doing this and trying to wheedle information from people, gets straight up told by Elias that the Eye is in love with him. Martin does not accept this at first.

Phase 3: Melanie quits.

And you see, this is quite an accomplishment. Jon does now tell her how to quit in this AU, because Jon simply does not find Eric’s tape. Melanie follows Eric’s path in a more--indirect way. She goes through the process trial and error herself.

Of course her first instinct is to simply murder Elias. This prompts consternation from the rest of the polycule. Even Martin objects, also worried about all of them dying, to which Melanie throws something at him and screams not everything is about what you want!

She does feel bad about it afterwards, but she decides that bad feeling must be more Eye brainwashing, so she smothers it intentionally and does not apologize.

The attempts on Elias’s life before standard procedure. The others stop getting riled up about them. It even becomes an integral part of the team atmosphere. Exchanges like: “Ah, sorry Tim, seems like Melanie poisoned everything in the fridge just in case Elias eats any of it” become an ordinary and accepted part of life at the Archives.

The murder attempts distract everyone from all her other attempts to free herself.

Melanie reads every single statement she can get her hands on, trying to find any mention of someone fighting successfully against an Entity’s influence. She finds the story of Agnes Montague freeing someone from the web-induced mind control with a kiss on the cheeks.

That gives Melanie an idea, and sets her on a path. The first stop on that path is Jude Perry.

(CW: self harm, serious self-injury, and self destructive behavior bordering on suicidal.)

Jude laughs at Melanie’s dilemma (she always did find other people’s misery funny) and laughs even more at her hypothesis. Still, when Melanie grits her teeth and explains what she wants from Jude, Jude grins.

“Well,” Jude says. “I can practically guarantee you won’t get anything out of it that you’re hoping for. But you are pretty, so how could I say no?”

Georgie, as Melanie’s emergency contact, is the one who gets called by the hospital and gets to see her bandaged up from the burns Jude left on one side of her face.

Georgie is also there when Melanie gets to wake up and find out it didn’t work--that the same intense pressure for her to return to the Institute is still there. Melanie sobs a bit over it, squeezing Georgie’s hand, but--she’s not done, either. Not remotely.

If it’s not that the Desolation gives some sort of protection from mind control, Melanie decides, it must be that different Entities cancel each other out. And if the Desolation cancels out the Web, then--there has to be one that cancels out the Eye.

And so Melanie’s path continues.

She tracks down Manuela Domingeuz, and then Helen.

Melanie gets locked in the dark box (willingly) for days, and spends some indeterminate amount of time stumbling in Helen’s corridors, listening to Helen’s giggles echo around the corner and wondering if she’ll ever get let out. In each of these it--Melanie can feel the Eye subside for a moment. Can feel her thoughts become her own again.

But once she’s out, the pressure is always back. Pushing her back to the Institute. Letting her know Martin is worried.

She has so, so many fights with Georgie throughout all of this. Because Georgie both disagrees with Melanie keeping everything to herself, and disagrees with everything Melanie is doing when Melanie actually explains any of it.

“This isn’t helping anything, Melanie! I can’t just sit by and watch you slowly kill yourself.”

“Where were you? Please tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re just as bad as Jon.”

They stop talking. They start talking again. Melanie gets increasingly more erratic and hostile in her interactions with everyone. Jon tells her a supernatural bullet is causing this but, “It’s fine, we’ll make sure you stay one of Us enough to keep clear headed.”

She throws something at him, and screams.

Georgie wants her to stop trying. Wants her to focus on self-preservation, and stop self destructing for no foreseeable gain.

“And just let them keep controlling me?” Melanie mumbles, pressed up against Georgie’s shoulder.

“You’d still be alive, though,” Georgie says. “That has to be worth something.”

Melanie almost gives in, then. Only for a second, though. The problem is that Georgie’s words have the exact opposite of the effect Georgie intends. Because Melanie hears that and feels her heart melt and something in her goes: oh, this is what real love is.

She compares it to the foreign obsession that grips her at the worst of times, and she makes a choice.

Next week, Melanie locks herself in her own apartment. She knows she’ll get sick if she doesn’t go back to the Institute. It’s time to see if it will really kill her--or else, call her bluff.

Her phone blows up. She shuts it off and throws it out the window. Over the next few days, it becomes impossible to sleep. She paces, vomits, and scratches at herself. She gets furious, breaks things, kicks things, and cries through it all. She feels an ache in her leg, and thinks about what Jon told her about the bullet.

“Well,” she says, through the haze of lost sleep. “Maybe I can stop one thing from controlling me, at least.”

She cuts up her own leg. Messily, bloodily, not having enough foresight to sterilize the knife or have sutures or gauze ready to go. It’s pure luck that she doesn’t hit a major artery in the process, and that she gets it out.

Then, she hears knocking at the door.

“Fuck off!” she yells.

“Melanie?”

The voice makes her blood run cold. Martin. Her eyes move towards the door without her permission.

“Sasha said you were--you were doing--” Martin swallows. “Melanie, please. You don’t have to--”

Her head spins. She stands up, and heads for the door. She shakily unlocks it as though in a trance, and when she sees Martin on the other side she knows exactly why. The sight of him makes that alien thing at the back of head light up like fireworks.

She also knows, instantly, that Martin came himself because he knew that he’d be able to get her to stop. Because the second he thought hard enough about not wanting her to hurt herself, she wouldn’t be able to. That he's started to believe in the Eye's “love” enough to use it, in this case.

“You,” she tells him, still light-headed, “are a fucker, Martin.”

He doesn’t even defend himself. She hates him for that.

“What did you---your leg. Okay, shit, we need to get you to a--let me call--”

Melanie tries to move her head away. She can’t. She tries to at least blink. She can’t. She’s locked in eye contact with him, and those same fireworks are going off in her head.

Does Melanie work it out, at that moment?

She does think, briefly, of Manuela’s darkness. How that darkness blotted out the Eye’s influence, if only for a moment. About how Manuela ritualistically scratched out photographs of eyes, while Melanie was there. But maybe Melanie still doesn’t really make the intellectual connection.

Maybe it’s just spite.

She can’t move her own goddamn eyes. If it’s gonna be that way, then at the very least the Beholding shouldn’t get them either. And so, Melanie takes the knife she’d just used on her legs, and turns it on her own eyes.

The last thing she sees is Martin’s shrieking face--but the first thing she feels when she wakes up is Georgie’s hand holding hers, and that makes it worth it.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Beach

Set around the same time as “Home” and “Promise Kept.” Agnes and Estinien go to the beach...and hope not to get arrested.

Agnes waited patiently at the swimwear shop in Costa del Sol. Estinien, who had tried on a few pairs of swim trunks already, was putting on yet another pair.

At least he’s even trying them on. Good gods, having to tell him that he can’t just go to the beach here nude was bad enough.

Thankfully, Agnes was not alone in this endeavor. A childhood friend, a mi’qote named H’nadia, managed the swimwear shop.

“Agi, where did you meet him? And does he have any brothers?” H’nadia asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Oh gods, please don’t make me explain. “In Ishgard…and erm, he has friends.” Well, one friend, who admittedly is extremely handsome. “He’s a bit grumpy sometimes, but he’s wonderful.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to his friends. Maybe they won’t be as grumpy as your man.” H’nadia winked. “Agi Currai having a man---who would’ve thought, eh? We’ve all waited for this, Agi. For you to finally find someone!”

Agnes gulped. “We?”

“Yeah, all our friends from the old days. And your mum obviously. And her friends. And your da’s mates. And all our parents of course…”

For love of everything that’s holy, Estinien, hurry the fuck up.

As if on cue, Estinien emerged from the dressing room, and Agnes almost passed out. H’nadia let out a loud ‘wooooo.’

“I think these’ll do.” Estinien said, putting his hands on his hips. “What do you think, Agi?”

Agnes blinked several times and couldn’t believe her eyes. She adjusted her glasses thinking she was seeing things. She was not.

Estinien was not wearing what Agnes believed to be “normal” swim trunks. Instead, they were akin to a pair of smalls. Small smalls. His powerful, thick thighs were exposed, as was the trail of fine white hair from his navel that disappeared down to his…ahem. Focus Agnes. Focus. Oh gods, if he gets hard, it will impossible not to see. FOCUS.

“Agi?”

“Right! Right, well, I think they’re very um very good!” Agnes struggled to get out, her voice several octaves higher than usual. “Do you like them, love?”

He smirked at Agnes. “Aye. If I can’t swim nude, then these are the next best thing. It’s like I’m wearing nothing.”

“Actually ser,” H’nadia began. “there are specific nude beaches in Costa del Sol. One for tourists and one for locals. Agi could take-“

Agnes elbowed her friend. “But I want to take Estinien to the beach we all used to go to.”

“What, you lot didn’t sneak to nude beach?” Estinien asked, laughing.

Agnes froze. “Absolutely not! It’s 18 and over-“

“Well, for you absolutely not Agi. Yararu and I used to sneak all the time.”

“Anyways,” oh gods please let this end. “we should be getting going now that you have your…erm, trunks, love.”

***

About an hour later, Estinien and Agnes arrived at one of the beaches that locals preferred. “You used to come here with your parents then?” Estinien asked, placing a blanket onto the sand.

“Yes, Mum and Da took me and when I was older I came with my friends.”

“Friends like H’nadia? She was very…friendly.” He began removing his linen trousers and shirt.

“Heh, yeah we go way back, H’nadia and I. It was me, her, Yararu, Purple Harvest, and Lewson.” Agnes smiled thinking about all the hours they’d spend together each day. Everything was so much more simple back then. H’nadia and Yararu are still here, but Purple Harvest is off doing pirate things, and Lewson…may he rest in peace with Da.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Unaware that Estinien had moved, he was now standing next to her, taking both her hands in his. “You alright?” He brought her hands to his lips.

Agnes thought she was going to melt. “I’m okay, love, I promise. Just thinking about things from long ago.”

Estinien chuckled. “Don’t think too hard, Agi. We’re here to have---what did you call it---fun in the sun?”

“Yes! And fun in the sun we’ll have! Just let me get this shirt off.” Agnes took off her shirt, revealing a matching red bikini top and bottoms. “Alright, now where did I put the---love?”

Estinien was not moving. His mouth was agape. And Agnes could swear she could see his cock twitch inside his trunks.

“You’re…you’re wearing that?!”

Agnes’ face betrayed her confusion. “Um, yes? Why, do you hate it?”

Estinien cleared his throat. “Ahem, well, it’s not that I hate it, per say. I just never thought you’d wear something so…revealing. Out in public I mean.”

“I’m at home. Everyone knows me. No one is going to say anything to me about looking godawful. That’s why. And I think it’s a very pretty bikini!” Agnes did a little twirl. “You like it?”

His gaze traveled all over her body. He murmured, “Yes, my sweet. So beautiful. Why, I could take you on this beach right now.”

Agnes groaned and put her head in her hands. “No! No! No! This is not that kind of beach! And besides,” she went back to rummaging through her large bag. “We need sun protection.” Agnes squeezed a generous amount in one hand. “Turn around, love. I’ll do your back.” Estinien grunted and turned his back to Agnes. She carefully rubbed the cream on his well-muscled back, noticing the numerous scars. Burns, cuts, this one looks like it came from a blade, those from claws… A wave of sadness washed over Agnes. He didn’t deserve any of these, poor love. And they must have hurt so badly.

As if sensing her sorrow, Estinien slowly faced her. “Hey, what’s wrong? Back in the past again?”

“I never noticed…or bothered to notice…the scars on your back. They must have hurt so much…”

“Tis the life of a soldier to bear such marks.” He raised his forearm with the starburst burn on it. “And I bear this and the one on my shoulder as symbols of both my weakness…” With the same arm, he lifted his hand to caress her cheek ever so gently. “and that you and Alphinaud saved me. Like the ones that litter the rest of my body, they are proof of survival. I lived, Agi. I lived, and now I get to be with you.” He embraced her, pulling her close and squeezing her. “And I shall never take that for granted. Not ever.” He whispered in her red hair.

“Nor will I take you…the time we have together…for granted.” Agnes looked up at his smiling face and gave him a quick peck. “Now, if you would be so kind, love, my back needs protection.”

Estinien groaned as Agnes turned. “Woman, you will be the death of me.”

Agnes could have melted right then and there as Estinien applied the sun protection. His strong, large hands carefully applied the cream. His hands. Gods help me he has the best hands. “Almost done?”

“Almost. I want to ensure you don’t up as red as a tomato.” After a few moments, he pinched her ass. “All done.”

Every. Damn. Time. “Do you have to do that? Pinch my bottom for attention?”

Grinning wickedly, he responded in a low growl. “Well, it got your attention, didn’t it?”

Her eyes widened. Agnes squealed when his arms wrapped around her and then his mouth claimed hers. One arm was kept around her ample waist, his hand gripping her shoulder, while his other hand grabbed a generous handful of ass. “Estinien, we’re-“

“If someone has a problem with this, they can bring it up to me and my lance.” He growled in her ear. “I do not give a single fuck.” Again, he pinched her ass.

We better get in the water or else I may have some explaining to do to the Yellowjackets. “Love? Can we go swimming now?”

He tentatively released her and sighed. “Lead the way.”

“What so you can pinch my ass again?” Agnes said with a grin, walking ahead of him.

“I promise to behave. For now.”

Agnes and Estinien bounded into the waves and made their way to a small inlet Agnes knew well, where they would be afforded some privacy. Estinien could stand with the water up to his chest, while it was slightly deeper for Agnes.

Suddenly, a thought popped into Agnes’ head. “You could pick me up!”

Estinien looked confused. “Aye, I could. But I could also do that on land.”

“Oh no, you’d break your back if you did that on land. But in the water, with buoyancy, you could lift me with ease!”

“Agi, you do realize I am a strong man, right?”

Agnes wrinkled her nose. “Well, obviously, but-“

“There is no but. Except yours.” He winked at her and pinched her ass once more underwater.

Oh come on. “Please humor me, love. Please.”

Estinien heaved a dramatic sigh and, as Agnes predicted, with ease lifted her into his arms. A more overjoyed reaction he could not have predicted was plastered on Agnes’ face. “There, you are lifted, sweetheart.”

Agnes wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed contentedly. “Thank you. I’ve…wanted to do this with you but never could ask. You’d break your back-“

“Agnes Currai, you are not the weight of five chocobos. And with Nidhogg’s strength, I can easily pick you up any time you desire.” He smiled softly and kissed her nose. “But if this makes you feel better, then so be it. I will hold you in my arms for as long as you’d like. On one condition.”

Oh boy, here it comes. “Hmmm?”

“You allow me the pleasure…” Estinien kissed her cheek. “of taking you out tonight to Limsa. Wear your prettiest dress, Agi. Feel beautiful. Show me the city of your birth.”

Agnes tightened the grip around his neck. “Love you, ‘Stinien. The pink dress? With the crinoline at the bottom?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. And I’ll buy you something nice.”

Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No. “Buy us dinner and I’ll pick something out for myself. Deal?”

He smiled once more and kissed her soundly.

Money crisis averted.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

From the Darkest Night || Morgan, Blanche, Jasmine, Constance, & Agnes

TIMING: Current/the night of the solstice. After Morgan’s and Constance’s choices.

PARTIES: @harlowhaunted @halequeenjas @constancecunningham Agnes Bachman (written by @chloeinbetween )

SUMMARY: Death has been and left its mark with winter’s bleakness, cold and stark. The tides of darkness turn.

Constance must be stopped. Morgan faces the truth.

CONTAINS: violence, death, exorcism

The steering wheel cracked on the Subaru as Morgan swerved around the slick, snow-covered streets. She sped past the red-green stream of traffic lights, muttering, “Fucking, fucking, fucking fuck...what are we gonna do about this, how do we fix this, what is my fucking plan, stars a--” Morgan slammed on the brake and turned the wheel violently again. The Subaru jumped the curb and wailed to a stop. In front of her was a stream of anxious cars, all trying to squeeze down the narrow way out of town, toward the highway. From the crest of the road, Morgan could see some of the mess they were escaping: dented street lamps and snapped power lines, dizzy shadows of wounded, disoriented people and gory splashes of siren lights. Whatever Morgan had let Constance get away with, it was big. Morgan revved back and hopped through any street she could to get to the rendezvous point in the outskirts, dodging stunned, frightened holiday-goers. Whatever they warned her about, she didn’t hear. She just needed to get to Jasmine, Blanche, and Agnes. Constance was bound to try her luck on the East End when she was done pitching a fit on this side of the river. And then what? She’d find out that Morgan’s house was still warded up tight and she wasn’t even home and Deirdre had enough salt in the house to prevent any warm-up carnage. And then what? If there was anything good left in the universe, no one would have to find out.

Morgan slowed when she found the group, already working on something. She stepped out of the car. “I’m--I--” This wasn’t the time to be pathetic. This may not even be the time to be sorry. “I’m here now,” she said. “Do we know where Constance is? Or what the plan is? Or--” She couldn’t tell if it was her guilt talking or not, but Morgan had the distinct feeling that no one was impressed by her questions. “Tell me how I can help. I would like to help, please.”

Something akin to anger had been boiling up inside Jasmine as she drove to the abandoned lot in the Outskirts Blanche had directed her to. There should have never been a chance for Constance to wreak havoc on the Common. This should have been done months ago when she had initially tried to make Constance pass on. If her concentration hadn’t been broken, it’d be both Constance and Nancy gone. But no, Constance was still here and a full on poltergeist which was going to make things more difficult now. She had to drive by the damage on the way to the Outskirts and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. A hint of smoke was still in the air and everything was blown out of place. The number of ambulances on the scene only served to make her more angry. Constance wouldn’t have the chance to do this again. She quickly jumped out of the car when she got to the lot and looked over Blanche a handful of times before she was entirely convinced the girl was in fact okay. Well, relatively speaking at least. She’d directed Blanche to help her set everything up as Morgan arrived. They had to act quickly and Morgan being here meant Constance would be sooner rather than later. Under less rushed circumstances, she would have let her anger towards Morgan out. As it stood, she simply gave her an annoyed look and said, “She had left the Common and will likely be seeking you out seeing as you’re the one she has the whole revenge vendetta crap with… which is at least convenient since you’re here and cooperating now.” There was a bit of a bite to her tone that she couldn’t be bothered to hide. “Well, you’re pretty much bait at the moment, but since you have the benefit being able to see her and be on the more durable side, I’m going to ask that you keep myself or Blanche from getting impaled by something.”

Agnes felt hollow, like the blood spilled on the street had been drained right out of her. She hadn’t expected that, to have her bitterness and fury thrown back in her face with the weight of an anvil. Nothing Constance had thrown at her had done any kind of damage, but when a street light had buckled under the force of Constance’s rage, Agnes moved by instinct, lowering it to the ground so gently it couldn’t crush anyone. It was only when it was set down so carefully that the glass in the bulb hadn’t broken that Agnes cracked, once Constance was gone and she could let herself grieve just another one of her failures. But this one had been Constance’s too. That was what she’d seen, in the second before. Constance had made a choice, as she had when she’d cast her curse, when she had as she’d tried to kill Morgan over and over. Constance was no longer the girl Agnes had loved. She hadn’t been, even before she’d become a poltergeist. So Agnes had let her grief break the light in the downed street post, and had pulled herself together to look for a plan, following her heart back to Morgan, and this terrible, empty space, clinging to the walls as she tried to tuck her grief back inside her perfectly acceptable clothes.

Time wasn’t passing correctly for Blanche as she sped away from the carnage on the common. Moments in time had been plucked from her memory, dissolving into static and cold numbness. She only really came into focus once Morgan showed up, jolted back into reality at the heated anger boiling under her skin. She said nothing, keeping her face blank as she stared at Morgan, hearing the bite in Jasmine’s words. Blanche was pleased that Jasmine seemed to be feeling similarly to her. She looked away from Morgan, busying herself with finally trying to settle her appearance. She looked like -- well, like she had just been thrown into a giant Christmas tree. She pulled her hair back and started picking off pine needles from her newly ruined winter jacket. “We need to get her here,” Blanche said tonelessly. Focus. The voice in her head was now her own, reminding her that the pain in her side or anywhere else didn’t matter. Cracked ribs, exhaustion, and bruises were something she could live with for now. “Constance is on a rampage, and she no longer cares about who she takes out in her quest to kill Morgan,” Blanche said to Jasmine. It was easiest to talk to Jasmine, rather than to the group as a whole. Between Agnes setting off her already overstimulated senses and the building anger when she looked at Morgan, her head was starting to hurt pretty badly. “I don’t know how we want to do this, but we need to get her here before she devastates another highly populated area.” The image of the gazebo going up into flames came to her mind and any color left in her face drained. “Constance needs to know Morgan is here. Or think she’s here.”

Morgan hadn’t expected a warm welcome from anyone, but somehow the sharp, pragmatic snaps were worse than any volley of yelling she’d braced herself for on the way over. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I’m...yes, I’m cooperating. I know I screwed up, and you guys were right, okay? I…” I can’t let anymore people die tonight because of me. Morgan swallowed that particular wish down. She was in enough trouble without explaining Miriam to anyone. “I can try to bait her. Find her. She’s probably headed to my house, right? Maybe I can draw her out here...but, uh…” She would need someone to help run interference if she really wanted to make it home in the morning. But looking between Jasmine and Blanche, that didn’t seem like something she could ask for. They couldn’t take the fall for this.

Morgan’s eyes slid over to Agnes, who had remained silent since her arrival. “Would you help me? Come with me, run interference so we can get her back here for sure?” Her eyes pleaded with her. “I know I screwed everything up, but we can still do something. Not as much as we should’ve, but something.” It wouldn’t be enough, because pain wasn’t something you could measure down to the last milligram and weigh even with carbon and silicon. You couldn’t throw it at someone like an axe and find yourself lighter or trade it like money for happiness in exchange. However you got rid of pain, it wasn’t like that.

“The two of us together will quickly draw her ire,” Agnes agreed listlessly, staring at a point past all of them and right into her past. Into the lie neither of them had truly ever been permitted to heal from, and the crushing weight of her mother’s suspicions for the rest of her life. Constance was gone. Whatever she had hoped to achieve here had failed most spectacularly, hope scorched from the earth like that damned tent. “I will do what I must.”

While they were finally on a united front, Jasmine had never been good at hiding any sort of disdain she felt. She’d never found much point in it either, even in a business setting, her customers seemed to appreciate her never relenting honesty. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe avoid taking the more populated route here,” she said, the edge still more than evident in her tone. Her glance was cast at Morgan though she was still unsure about this Agnes ghost hanging around. Her attention focused back to Blanche who seemed to be in a somewhat catatonic state that left her concerned. As Morgan and Agnes left, she spent a few moments explaining the steps in preparation to Blanche. She wasn’t sure the younger woman would ever like to learn exorcisms, but it still seemed beneficial for her to pick some things up along the way. She closed off the circle of salt and let out a sigh. She broke the quiet and asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” It was clear she was taking this badly and Jasmine needed to help her find her strength for these next steps.

Blanche listened to Jasmine, unsure if she was truly absorbing everything Jasmine was telling her. She supposed they would find out if they were ever put into this position again. When Jasmine broke the quiet, she glanced up from one of the symbols she was examining in the ground, staring back at her. “I -” Blanche started, her throat thick with emotion she hadn’t realized appeared upon Morgan and Agnes’ departure. “I did everything right -- She’s the one that chose this.” Blanche wasn’t certain if she was talking about Morgan or Constance anymore. She realized then her anger wasn’t directed completely at Morgan’s choices. It was at both of them. Both of them were wrong, and Blanche had practically broken herself trying to make them see right. What was the point? Was there even a point in trying? There was a broken feeling in her that she couldn’t explain, but it hurt worse than any of the injuries she had put together. Blanche numbly wondered if it was disappointment. “I don’t want to talk about this now,” Blanche said as the pain in her ribs jerked her back to reality again. She wiped her eyes before tears could spill. “I’ll do what we have to, Jas… Everything else…” Her voice cracked. “Everything else can come later, can’t it?”

Jasmine nodded as Blanche spoke and noted how raw the emotion in her voice was. How she seemed so much smaller than her already small size. Broken down in a way that seemed far too dire for someone so young. She placed a reassuring hand on Blanche’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know, you can do everything right sometimes and people can still let you down. I hate to say it, but more often than not that’s the case.” It was evident to Jasmine that somehow Blanche’s sense of self worth was tied into this which she just couldn’t wrap her head around. Morgan had previously been unreasonable and Constance had been a ghost fueled by vengeance for over a century. “None of that says anything about you,” she assured as a chilled gust of wind came through the lot. Thankfully nothing was displaced, but somehow it made the moment feel morose. They had to press forward though. There was no other option. “And we’re not done here yet,” she said to remind Blanche.

“I'll have to get used to disappointment,” Blanche replied, and the pain and anger that swelled in her chest was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of numbness. All her senses dulled, and she relaxed herself into a state of nothing. Her gaze rested on the circle, a sense of finality in the air. “No,” she agreed, glancing at her watch. “But we will be soon.”

Morgan stopped counting how many traffic violations she racked up well before she scraped past the bridge by riding the shoulder and swerving through lanes to get to her street. Constance left a trail of debris big and small in her wake. It was almost funny: when Morgan laid eyes on her up the road, standing in the road outside of Morgan’s house with Christmas lights strobing manically around her, she still looked as small and grubby as she’d ever been. No demonic glow in her pale eyes or costume upgrade like a comic book villain. Just a girl, frail and dangerous.

“I’d really like to be able to survive this so I can un-fuck my life afterwards,” Morgan whispered, fear turning her voice shrill. “I don’t know how much you know about zombies, but if she busts my head, I’m finished. So if you could run interference with her projectile playtime, that’d be great. And uh, you have full permission to hitch a ride or take over if you happen to come up with a plan, because I kind of don’t have one besides ‘make her mad and get out of here fast.’”

As she spoke, Constance drifted closer to the house, phasing through the stacks of cars crammed onto the driveway. Deirdre’s plan to get the families into the one house that was warded must have worked, but stars above, that didn’t make the scene look any less terrifying. Morgan shut her eyes and braced herself. Deirdre’s got her side and you’ve got yours. You don’t need to do this together, you just need to do it.

Sparks flew up from a reindeer next door. Rudolph’s lights went out just as his antlers turned into a halo of fire. He slowly came apart into his sharp-edged assembly required pieces and rose, trembling, into the air.

“Hey, Connie!” Morgan shouted, leaning halfway out the car window. “The real party’s right here! Are you gonna throw a tantrum all night or are you gonna kill me?”

Rudolph crashed against Morgan’s kitchen windows and bounced to the floor. Banshee proofing the glass was good for something after all. But that was where the good news ended. Morgan had wanted to get Constance’s attention, and now she had it.

Agnes felt more hollow than she had in decades in Morgan’s vehicle, her hands clasped in her lap. Her gaze distantly ahead of them as they made the same pilgrimage she had weeks ago. She was so still she almost missed Morgan’s fleeting admission. She did not say that Beck women were as prone to ruining their lives as they were prone to falling in love with other women. There was no fix, no un-fuck. There was only a tornado in the breeze of the woman she had loved. “I can do that.”

“I was never one for plans nor bravery,” Agnes replied quietly, still as empty in tone as the air that she inhabited. “Should I see the opportunity, I will take it, although I hope I will not have to.” Agnes was not sure that if she had a body again even for a moment that she would find it easy to let go. She also had little idea what a plan might even look like, other than to channel all of Constance’s rage into one place. There was little time for further hesitation as Morgan stretched out of the window and called for Constance. At the same time, Agnes floated through the roof of the car, letting Constance see her again in invitation. Her eyes met Constance’s for a long moment, perhaps hoping to see anything that she had before here, but there was nothing, more rage than woman. The letterbox was ripped out of the ground, and hurtled at their car with deadly force. Agnes extended her hand, but only pushed it enough sideways to only scrape the paint off the vehicle. There was an implicit challenge in her gaze as she looked back to Constance. Do your worst.

Constance had never imagined what Morgan and Agnes side by side would look like, it was too cruel, too wrong, to consider. Like a mirror cracked and doubled, they turned their heads toward her, eye wide and stupid as deer. She knew what they wanted, and she had half a mind not to give it to them. Perhaps she couldn’t get past the wards around the house, but she could rip everything else to pieces, could she not? But that was another trick in itself. As much as Constance burned to see the defiance stomped out of Morgan Beck’s face, she wanted to see her perish even more. Right before Agnes’ eyes, if she could have it so. Let Agnes see the curse finish before her eyes. Let her break the way Constance broke, let her whither and confront her own cruelty and her crimes.

Constance turned away and charged toward the car.

“Maybe cowardice is genetic,” Morgan shrugged. “But we do what we gotta for the people who--shit!” She had just enough time to pop back in and rev the car in reverse, shooting into someone’s minivan before Constance barreled through the windshield shattering it inward. “Probably should've seen that coming,” she said. Morgan met her eyes and her stomach lurched. She thought she had seen murder in her face before, but this was different. This was beyond desire or rage, this was as close to will and magic as a ghost could get. Morgan looked down the street and at the flicker of passing sirens and traffic lights. She was going to get shredded up and down the interstate if she tried to race Constance, and everyone just trying to drive home for the holidays, going to the grocery store, or trying to get the hell out of here for good.

“We gotta go!” Morgan dove out of the car as Constance vanished into the console, taking control of the wheel. She took off into the nearest yard, crashing through a fence before she coordinated herself enough to vault over another. She landed all wrong, bending the bones in her leg sideways but kept going. Running to the outskirts wasn’t going to be any fun, but maybe it would save a few lives. “Fuck, I hate this! You wouldn’t know how to climb things, would you?”

Agnes froze, understanding the implications of Morgan’s question. There had been games played in trees when she’d been a child, stretching for the highest, ripest apples in the trees. Then there had been the times she had to leverage herself into small nooks and crannies to find herself a moment’s peace from her husband’s incessant demands, and teaching her children how to hide and run from the events of the curse. She wouldn’t have ever described herself as a good climber, but she could do better than this, surely?

It wasn’t really even a question of whether she could. If Morgan could not clear the route back to Jasmine and Blanche, then Agnes might have found even fresher ways to fail her family. Agnes reached out, through Morgan’s hand, her arm, and then right to her heart. It did not beat, but it still hummed with energy. There was a small nook under her aorta. Agnes envisioned herself pouring into that nook like treacle out of a jug, except that there were no space limits at all. Once there, she expanded out, out, out, until she filled Morgan like she had once filled herself. It took her a moment to reorient herself where gravity had an effect, but then she was off, hurling through the outskirts faster than her human body could ever have sustained. Agnes had not felt physical pain in decades, and was less careful because of it, but she was also faster.

There was a moment of biting cold, the first Morgan had felt since she’d died, then a wave of grief, like there were too many sobs stuck in her chest, drowning her from the bottom of her lungs and up to her mouth. “Agnes,” she gasped—then there was quiet and a darkness almost like sleep.

Constance saw the Bachman women collide and disappear into the trees, scrambling like a squirrel from a fox. She seethed and electricity cackled from the power lines above her, but only a flicker. No flames, no splitting wood. Something inside Constance was breaking further, something Iike strength. She held no more illusions of love and hope and wishing, but it burned worse than any flame to see Agnes choose Morgan, help Morgan, save Morgan. Always Morgan and her wretched happiness, her stolen life. “You’re mine!” Constance shrieked.

She followed them, tearing through the dark as the pair, now bound into one body, raced over the bridge and up to the outskirts. The wind roared with each of her screams, topping them over and knocking them into the trees. Windows trembled and bowed in the automobiles she passed. On they went. Constance surged behind her once, too furious to concentrate enough to pull on their hair or throw them into the river. She tried to reach inside, to worm her way in. If she had been more clever, she would have done this from the start and forced Morgan to her doom. But she only phased through and watched helpless as the Morgan-Agnes creature vanished into the woods. She pulled on every thread of energy she hand and sped through. She would snap her neck, she would pick her up and run her through every branch in the forest. Constance reached for the pair again and sneered with satisfaction when they went flying and tumbled into the street. “You did this! You did all of this! You killed me!” She tossed them with the force of her will again. Morgan-Agnes rattled to their feet, like a puppet pulled on all the wrong strings and fell again. “You need to pay for what you did! All of you!” She was so fixated on spending herself making the pair suffer at once, she didn’t see Blanche or the circle set in the ground. Her world had burned down to a single thread of pain and Constance would unravel it down to the last fiber.

If the howling of the wind and the thudding of Morgan’s body being thrown about wasn’t enough indication that Constance was there, the bone chilling sensation that ran under her skin would have. There was no time for Jasmine to ponder the situation. Think the moment over. It was something her aunt had taught her early on; develop an instinct so sharp that you could act swiftly. “This is it,” she told Blanche before clasping the young woman’s hand in her right hand and the gem of her aunt’s necklace in her left. While Blanche couldn’t chant the words with her, her energy could give Jasmine the edge she needed to get them all out of here alive. Constance barreled through like a storm, sights only set on Morgan who judging by the extra nerves firing off inside her was possessed by Agnes. The thunderous rage in her eyes could not make Jasmine back down. This had always been inevitable and she would go about this in the kindest way for the girl Constance once was. The familiar Latin chants poured from her mouth with her voice even and strong. Her focus would not be deterred no matter how much chaos Constance brought in her wake. She kept repeating the part of the ritual that would draw Constance into the salt circle. Once. Twice. Three times. As many times as it took.

Agnes felt the ice filling her - Morgan’s - brain, as Constance tried to squeeze inside too, to rip them both from the inside out. Unsure of what else to do, Agnes just ran through her, wincing as the place their hearts might have been touched in ways they hadn’t been permitted in life. Far too late now. She could hardly remember the route that Morgan had driven, unfamiliar with this terrain, but she could feel the medium Constance had been with before like Blanche was a flame and she was but a moth. Perhaps it was that Blanche had already summoned her once, perhaps it was the second light that was the exorcist beside her. She found her way to them, only to lose sight of Constance. Agnes barely responded as Morgan’s skin was scraped by their landing, the burning bending of her bones. She could barely get the body upright before Constance threw them again. The words stung more than the jerking of this body, but Agnes was careful to protect the head. “You did this, Constance.” She replied eventually, in a voice as much her own as Morgan’s. “You made your choices too.” Agnes hardly believed her words, but she needed to keep Constance’s attention on them, not on Jasmine or Blanche.

Blanche’s grip on Jasmine’s hand was so tight, she was sure Jasmine was going to yell at her for it, but as the icy feeling spread through her body as Constance and Agnes (via Morgan) approached had her holding on for dear life. This was the one moment she wished she could help, that she knew the right words and the right power to end this now. She didn't want to watch Constance become nothing while the memory of her twirling under the Christmas lights still hung close to her mind. It was a happy memory tainted with anger and murder, and Blanche trembled as she focused on pushing every last ounce of energy she had into Jasmine. She wanted to close her eyes to spare herself of watching Constance unravel, but things were bound to fly and it wouldn't be safe for anyone, especially Jasmine, if she shut her eyes tight. Words sounded like static, and Blanche let in a deep breath as she tried her best to focus on Jasmine’s voice rather than the ghost fight in front of her. She understood their intent even if she didn't know the translation itself, and as Constance’s shrieking echoed in her ears, Blanche reminded  herself there was no other way. All options had been exhausted. She was exhausted and this was it.

It passed in an instant, like the jolt you got from snapping awake after a nightmare: Morgan was sliding helplessly over the yards in the East End, and then she was on the ground, struggling to get her bent bones to hold her up. The air burned her cheeks, her skin torn to shreds from scraping along the asphalt. Staggering to her feet, she saw a sideways view of Blanche, trembling with the fierceness of her reserve. “I’m---I---” Her words crackled in her throat. Right, she needed to breathe with her ribs bowing through them in five places. She winced as the ground vanished and crashed to the grass again. You’d think after all this time, she’d be used to it.

“No!” Constance screamed. Her voice twisted in the air, wailing with pain that went beyond nerves and feeling. It was as though she had become it and burst, splattering her anguish like blood. But the circle surged with light and all the wind in the air wasn’t enough to keep Constance from falling into it. She reached out with both hands, her airy fingers trembling with strain. She looked to Blanche. She should have known. From the first moment Blanche had come up to her at the funeral, she should have guessed. Blanche hadn’t been a spy or a cheat, but she had not been her friend or anything else Constance had deluded herself into wishing for. “I should’ve ended you!” She sobbed. “How could you make me this!”

Morgan finally got to her feet, cradling herself as she staggered to the edge of the circle. The circle seemed to be pulling on Constance’s clothes with a hundred fingers. But Morgan knew there was nothing to tear or pull on but her. Tears, thin and wispy as frost fell from the corners of her eyes and vanished into the circle of light. Maybe it was the magic, or just how little all their pain amounted to, but Morgan couldn’t see the ghost from her nightmares or her paranoias anymore. Only a raw, anguished nerve wrapped in a hurt girl. Morgan couldn’t think of anything sadder or more familiar than that. “I’m...sorry,” she breathed. “I get it, I do. You had to do something to stop feeling this way. It’s the worst kind of hurt to see everything you love fall away and find yourself in the last place you wanted. I know, Constance. And I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. None of you are. Not once!”

Morgan stared into her trembling, translucent eyes, which seemed to grow as the rest of her came apart. “I know that feeling too. And I’m sorry, honey. I’m even sorry it has to be over. I am, okay? But whether you believe it or not, you’re not alone anymore. And it’s not enough, but it’s what we’ve got. Let go now, okay? Let it stop hurting. Please.”

Jasmine had been well practiced at tuning out chaos. Hell, she’d spent a good chunk of her life ignoring the ghosts around her once she realized others couldn’t see them. This was no different. This needed to end here and now and that meant her full concentration was mandatory. Blanche’s hand was grasped tightly in her own, almost to a painful extent, but there was no pausing her chants now. The thought of how tight her grip was for such a small person flashed through her mind for a moment, but the intent remained. Constance’s soul would be destroyed tonight. It wasn’t the preferred route, but Constance’s own choices had led her here. She ignored the chill that surged through her body and kept pushing through the words. Constance was being pulled into the circle now and would soon be trapped there until this was all through. That wouldn’t stop her from throwing a ghostly temper tantrum in the meantime, but it was a start.

Once Constance was trapped in the salt circle, Jasmine continued on to the next part of the ritual. Branches and rubble flew all around them. She found strength and power both in Blanche’s grip. Getting them out of here and ending this now would push her through. Her voice shouted over the howling of the wind and she gave Constance a harsh gaze to let her know she wasn’t backing down. Jasmine never stood down. A few lone sticks and stones had hit her, but they felt lighter than they should have and only left minor bruises and scratches in their wake. She was sure she had Agnes to thank for that. It made it apparent she could tune out her surroundings a bit more safely. She hardly picked up on any of the chatter around her though she was almost sure it was namely from Constance.

Constance’s wind was weakening now and continued to do so the more she chanted. Jasmine could see her form fading now. Only a few more repetitions and they would be poltergeist free and she could turn her attention back to Blanche who was clearly distressed. She was holding up though which was a true testament to the potential she held. The shrieks coming from Constance were nearly muted now and the wind was dying down as she fought to stay on this plane or at least take Morgan with her. It was sad to see someone so young so utterly taken over by rage that they hardly resembled a person anymore, but choices always had consequences. One final shrill sound escaped Constance before she faded away completely. The thrashing wind calmed and rubble fell to the ground.

The calm after a tough exorcism was always strange. The calm after the storm is what she could say if she wanted to be cliche. Jasmine could barely feel her legs like jelly underneath her so she took a moment to steady herself before she softly said, “It’s over now. She’s gone.” With her energy levels being severely lowered, she hardly even had it in her to shoot Morgan an annoyed glance. It came across as more of a grimace, but she guessed when it came down to it, Morgan made the right choice.

Beyond anything, Blanche wished there was some comfort to the wailing woman in the middle of the circle, caught as Jasmine’s ritual unraveled her soul for the last time. She said nothing because she didn’t want to distract Jasmine and, more distinctly, there was nothing to say. The poltergeist’s essence had cast a cold layer of ice under her skin, and she wasn’t able to feel anything at all except the energy leaving her body and her soul being destroyed. Slowly, her body began to warm, the ice thawing as Constance was no more. She knew immediately when it was over, but found herself unwilling to let go of Jasmine’s hand, clutching it hard until the sudden wave of dizziness passed. Blanche refused to pass out. She refused to go down now. 

After a moment, Blanche allowed herself to let go of Jasmine’s hand and sink down to the icy ground. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t rip her eyes from the spot Constance had been. “... I tried,” Blanche whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried.” Hot anger swelled in her again, burning through whatever ice was left in her body. With fire came pain. The pain in her ribs raged to the point where tears pricked her eyes, and the small cuts and bruises from the evening was an overwhelming ache that almost set her outwardly sobbing. Worse yet was the pressure of guilt and grief sticking in her chest. Blanche sank backward into the snow, letting the cold numb herself back up because now that it was over, there were no more choices to make.

It was Constance’s blow that pushed Agnes out of Morgan’s body, which forced Agnes to face the reality of the circle. Somehow, without ears made of flesh and bone, she felt Constance’s scream all the more keenly, rippling through every part of her. It was easier to turn her back on her, once again, and steel her heart as she formed a buffer around Morgan, Blanche and Jasmine, beating back as much debris as she could. When the screams ended and the debris calmed down, Agnes looked faint even beyond her normal pallor. Agnes collapsed to her knees, staring at the circle and wondering if being in there might have been better. Now there was nothing but to return to the painful monotony of eternity. 

Morgan stared at the empty spot where the girl had been. The whole time, she hadn’t broken Constance’s gaze once, even as her face dulled in its ghostly sheen and unraveled like an old patchwork quilt. It was too terrifying to watch the threads of her dissolve into the light, nothing and nowhere, not even ash or goo. Her eyes, the last recognizable part of her humanity, streamed with hurt. At the end, her screams were so quiet they sounded more like a child’s cry. When the last sound died and Constance Cunningham was no more, Morgan’s ears rang with their echo. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the nothing, hanging her head. Her fingers twitched, aching to take Constance’s hurt and feel something of her and understand just a little better. But there was nothing. 

She pressed her hand to her chest, righting the bones that hadn’t sprung back the right way. Her two lifetimes of hurt still throbbed in her dead heart. Nothing won. Nothing changed. Just a dull, unending ache. But there was no beat to pace it evenly; only more nothing. Where did the pain go? Constance’s pain should have drained the earth or razed the forest. She had taken down bodies and destroyed neighborhoods, but those would get fixed or spawn new wounds to fester and twist until they spawned more of their own. But where was the rest of it? Where was the mound that buried it for good? Was becoming nothing the only answer? No. There had to be something better. Even if she couldn’t trade pain for peace and happiness, even if it was completely worthless (and stars above, it sure as fuck was starting to feel that way) it had to be able to go somewhere else. This couldn’t be the only way. Morgan’s fingers reached out, cradled the nothing left behind it in her palm, and as the tears she’d held in came free and blurred her vision with a moonlit sheen, it almost looked like a piece of magic had landed on her fingertip. “I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered again. She sagged on her feet and crushed the illusion in her hand.

[lostinfantasies38]

Ten Favorite Dialogues from 2020

I picked 10 dialogue exchanges that I loved from the stories I posted this year. A few of them are from the same stories, since I spent a good chunk of the year working on long fics instead of one shots or shorter stories. Under the cut bc they are lengthy.

I also realized that most of my zingers tend to be in my descriptions and don’t always make it into my character’s dialogue. I might have to change that. 

In no particular order:

1.

Dorian chuckled. “Honestly, you two are disgraceful. You can’t come to a club looking like sex on legs when you aren’t single. You’re going to give people a heart attack.”

“Jealous, Dorian?” Alistair needled.

“Insanely,” he replied smoothly. “Aside from myself and Zevran,”—he saluted the elf who shot him a saucy wink—“you’re the most attractive men here. And to add insult to injury, you’re together,” he sighed dramatically.

Accidental Alliance, a oneshot modern Cullistair AU 

2. 

“Step two of the pie liberation was to avoid suspicion of the adults.” Evan giggled at Connor’s phrasing and thought he heard Alex snort in amusement, too. “Zoe’s job was to act as a distraction, which wasn’t hard to accomplish because Cynthia decked her out in this frilly monstrosity that every woman within a five-mile radius oohed and aahed over. She fucking hated it, of course, but it worked in our favor for The Plan. And yes, those are honest to God capitals, babe. Think Mission Impossible: Thanksgiving 2010.”

“Alternate title: Pie Larceny,” Evan quipped, overjoyed by Connor’s rich laughter. Alex definitely chuckled at that.

“Yes! Oh my God, that’s amazing. I’m totally renaming it Pie Larceny.”

Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen

3.

“It makes me want to wrap you in blankets and bubble wrap and smother you with attention until you’re sick of looking at me, though.”

A broken laugh tumbled out of Evan’s mouth. “Well, there’s a mental picture. What are you gonna do? Roll me down the street?”

“I’m working out the logistics, but rolling you around does sound kinda fun,” Connor teased.

Snorting, Evan retorted, “I mean, you do have practice rolling joints. Guess a bundled up boyfriend isn’t much difference.”

Connor’s borderline hysterical laughter almost drowned out Evan’s airy chuckles. “Jesus Christ, Evan,” he wheezed, shakily wiping away tears. 

Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen 

4.

Returning his head to the shadows, he hissed, “Sister Agnes is milling around. I need a distraction so I can reach our room.”

Kai grinned and pulled a dehydrated pepper from his pocket. “Down the hatch.”

Gavin stopped him with a concern expression. “Are you sure about this?”

He snorted softly. “Please, I grew up eating these. My mum sends them because she knows I love them. They’re like candy. I’ll be shitting fire for a week, but they don’t hurt my mouth. I’ll burn hot and sweat like crazy though. Trust me, it’ll work.”

The redhead arched an eyebrow. “So you carry them in your pocket at all times?”

“No,” Kai answered irritably. “That’s why I needed Easton earlier. To act as a distraction for me so I could get it out of my room.”

Gavin sighed. “If you’re sure. I mean, we could brawl in the hallway, that would work, too.”

Alistair glanced around the corner. “Hurry up and choose. I’m not waiting forever.” Kai smirked and popped the pepper in his mouth.

“Well, that decides it,” Gavin groaned. Alistair tried not to laugh as over the course of a few minutes, Kai’s face visibly flushed in response to the spicy heat and sweat pooled under his hair, running in rivulets across his face.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Like you’ve got the sweat,” Gavin replied sardonically.

“Perfect,” he retorted. “Right, good luck, Alistair. If I fail to distract everyone, Gavin’s got you covered.”

Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic - excerpt from Ch 11 featuring a few of my OCs and Alistair 

5.

Wrapping his arms around her as she hummed at the stove, he said, “Sirra and Alistair either just left my apartment or she only now deigned to tell me they’re gone.”

Eowyn grinned wickedly at him, checking the clock on the dining room wall. “My, my! Four hours later! Scandalous.”

“I wish you could have seen them. The magnetism! It was instant.”

She giggled. “I saw the photos. That’s more of Alistair’s almost-O face than I ever want to see again, thanks very much.”

He snorted. “Fair enough.” After a pause, Zevran chuckled, “I give them a month.”

Rounding on him in horror, Eowyn stared at him with wide mossy eyes. “You just said they were perfect together! Do you think we made a mistake?”

“No, amore mio. I mean, I give them a month before they elope. I might have been party to their engagement shoot today.”

She blinked slowly as the giggles built until she was clutching the kitchen counter in a fit of uncontrolled mirth. “Okay, that may be accurate knowing Alistair!”

“I’m thinking of changing my business cards. Should I add ‘Matchmaker Extraordinaire’ or ‘Signor Soulmate’?” he asked cheekily.

Shot In The Dark - Sirra Brosca/Alistair modern AU oneshot [dialogue shown is between Zevran/OC]

6.

Cullen grinned with him. “Me either. Maybe we can improve your chess skills enough for you to graduate from mediocre.”

“Oh, ha ha. You and the others can have fun with that, thanks very much. Here I was hoping we could spend more time in bed,” he teased, sliding a hand into his curls.

Rolling his eyes playfully, the blonde retorted, “Of course, count on you to think how often we can sleep together instead of improving our skills.”

“That is how we improve our skills.”

“Training skills, you fiend.”

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Alistair quipped, “Well, one of us has to be the boring one in the relationship. Glad it’s not me.” Cullen elbowed him gently in the ribs, chuckling along with his lover’s bright laughter.

Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic, excerpt from Ch 12 

7.

“You’re not worthless,” Alistair whispered. The breath she’d been holding passed her lips with a tiny mewl of surprise. Still unable to look at one other, Alistair kept his hand on her wrist and she resisted the urge to scoot further away.

Sirra murmured, “You don’t know me, Alistair. You can’t say that.”

“I can,” he insisted firmly, his fingers pressing just a bit harder on her flesh. “It doesn’t matter who you were. When you join the Grey Wardens, all that matters is who you are. I may not know who you used to be in Orzammar, but I have a pretty good idea who you are in the sun.”

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 4

8.

“I’m sorry, Alistair, I wanted to surprise you. Most dwarves in Orzammar, caste and casteless alike, have genital piercings. It’s cultural and unrelated to murder.”

His eyebrows climbed into his hair. “Even the men? How in the Maker’s name does that work?” Sirra opened her mouth to explain, but he hastily held up a hand and shivered. “Rhetorical question. Please do not answer that.”  

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 14

9.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, gracing him with a watery smile. “If I had known you were up here, I would have left Orzammar years ago and tracked you down,” Sirra mused, only half joking. 

“Oh, really?” he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “I can just imagine you sneaking into the droll monastery and breaking me out. I would have assumed you were a figment of my imagination, a desire demon, or Maker-sent. Regardless, I doubt I could have resisted the mischievous glint in your eyes as you crept in to find me in my smalls, surrounded by thirty other recruits, and told me to run away with you.” 

Laughing, Sirra raked her short nails down his toned chest. “A naked teenage version of you? I would have taken you on the spot, letting the recruits feast their eyes on us, before dashing out the front door with your bare ass in tow.” 

He closed his eyes with a lusty moan, and swallowed hard, his voice strained when he replied. “Definitely Maker-sent then. To think, we could have been on the lam for the last few years, making mad love wherever we went.” 

Sighing melodramatically, Alistair smirked and playfully bopped the tip of her nose with his. “Ah, well, at least I have you now and that’s all that matters.”

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 17

10.

“Stop it,” Morrigan mumbled irritably.

Alistair feigned innocence. “Stop what? I’m sitting here like a good patient. I wasn’t even talking until right now.”

Yellow eyes bored into hazel as the subtle light faded around them, his shoulder apparently healed. “You know very well what. Stop staring at my hands. ‘Tis most distracting.”

“And here I thought it was my hands distracting you during the fight,” he smirked. “Not where my eyes happened to land. How could you have known that I might have been paying attention, if you weren’t observing me, too, hmm?”

Scoffing, Morrigan took a large step back and crossed her arms haughtily over her chest. “You are insufferable.”

Sheathing his sword, Alistair shrugged with affected boredom. “I may be insufferable, Morrigan, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth.” 

Snagging his shield from where it fell on the ground, he slung it over his back and murmured for her ears alone. “Besides, for a cranky witch who grew up in a swamp, they’re surprisingly soft and gentle… when they want to be, that is.” 

You Give Me That Lovin’ Feelin’ - ch 2. Part 1 of 3 of Morristair written for @scharoux 14 Days of DA Lovers 

[bitch4vanya]

Indestructible  (Klaus x Reader x Vanya)

Ep. Number 5

Warning: Mention of drugs (cocaine/weed are abused in this series), Swearing, Pretty gay, Female POV but can be easily changed if needed, SPOILERS, it follows the same story line as the show so there’s a ton, gore

Word Count: 1.8k

“What’re you doing under there?” You asked Klaus who was digging under his bed. He popped his head out, grinning at you wildly.

“Come here,” He waved you over. You cautiously took a seat on the floor next to him. He pulled out a baggie underneath the Polaroids of the two of you.

“Klaus is that-”

“Maybe,” He smiled, he was tired, but still the excitement of doing something he shouldn't overtook the guilt that weighed on him as his deceased brother looked over his shoulder disappointingly. “It helps quiet things down.” He explained looking behind you at a tall dark figures hiding in the corners of his room.

You watched, mesmerized by the fluidity of his motions as he skillfully rolled a joint, sticking the filtered end into his mouth before digging into the box to find a lighter. He took a long hit, coughing a little before passing it to you. 

You stared at your friend’s latest fix. Looking up at him as he exhaled shoulders relaxing as the smoke left his lungs. You craved that peace. The quiet he spoke of. You breathed in the smoke for the first time, 

and for the first time it felt like you could breathe.

//

Diego wordlessly drove you back to Griddy’s where you had your car towed to by the nice man in the truck for the low low price of a thirty second hand job. You played with your hands, feeling absolutely sick to your stomach. How could you have let this happen. Sometimes- Most of the time it felt like you were the only one there for Klaus. You had always been there for him. Even Diego hadn't been the one to bail him out of jail half the time. Or checked up on him while he was in rehab. Hell, to check in with him in rehab. Maybe you weren't the best influences on each other a lot of the time but you had always been there.

“I'm sorry,” You started not looking up at Diego. His jaw clenched. You still had hope for Klaus. Diego knew Patch was gone.

“It’s not your fault.” He croaked trying to keep his voice steady.

“I could have done something-” 

“”Drop it.” You stopped, bowing your head in shame and worry. He signed feeling sorry for snapping but not having the energy to apologize. “Go on.” He says pulling up next to your car. You give him a weak but appreciative smile, getting in your car. He nods and backs out of the parking lot, wiping away a stray tear.

You wait for him to leave before settling into the back seat, an old shirt of Vanya’s as a pillow.

//

“You have beautiful hair.” You smile, running your hands through her soft, dark strands. It was late. You should be in your room but you were dazed and a little high still, just wanting to be close to someone. 

“You’re high.” She sighed, looking away, the moonbeams accentuate the exhaustion on her face. She was still so lovely, and you were sure you looked worse. On her back, her hands on her stomach, her chest ached as you cuddled into her side. She had never felt this way before and she wasn't quite sure what this was.

“Only a little, but you’re always beautiful.” You say dreamily, nuzzling her shoulder. After a moment of silence you ask a question you had been wandering yourself for a couple months now, “Vanya,” She turns her head slightly, still shy but wanting to look at you. “Have you ever been kissed?” She hadn’t left the Academy more that thrice in the last year, even less the year before. The answer was a simple no. In her sixteen years of living she hadn’t known anyone but her siblings. Who would she have kissed?

“No,” She whispered embarrassed, a little curious, definitely anxious as you lifted yourself to get a better look at her. Your face hovered over her’s, eyes flickering down to her lips.

“Do you want to be?

//

You stumbled down the sidewalk, Agnes had found you that morning shivering and whimpering in your sleep. She woke you up by knocking softly on the car window. Handing you a cup of coffee and asking if she could do anything to help. You smiled softly thanking her but ultimately having a mission. You had to find Klaus. 

A couple blocks away from Griddy’s and you saw a small explosion followed by wails that sounded far too familiar. You raced around the corner finally finding Klaus, hunched over a broken suitcase, bits and pieces of it shattered. You called his name bending down beside him and taking his head in your lap. He sobbed clinging on to you as if his life depended on it. 

You hugged him close letting his cries die down until no sound was left. You had never heard anything like it from him. He was absolutely distraught. Tears of your own pooled in your eyes as both relief and dread settled into your chest. 

Finally you got him to stand, your arm wrapped around his ribs as you made your way to the only home you had left.

“You want me to make you some tea?” You asked softly, he had complained of a headache.

“Coffee actually, thanks,” He sighed, scratching his chest and settling on his childhood bed.

“Okay,” You smile softly at him, the expression quickly fading as you turned around and headed to the kitchen. He hadn't wanted to talk about it when you got home and you let that be. What he had been through in the past forty eight hours, calling it horrific couldn't begin to describe it. 

By the time you had made the coffee, Five was speaking to Klaus who looked dazed and annoyed. Five whipped around and glared at you, you stared back at him. “Get out,” He exclaimed, frustrated by your ignoring his glare as you handed Klaus the coffee. He took it gratefully smiling up at you weakly before downing the cup. You looked at the kid, handing him your mug of coffee thinking he probably needed it more.

“I'm trying to have a serious conversation with my brother.” He took the mug anyway, chugging it faster than Klaus had. You looked over at him, he shrugged exhausted and defeated. You go to say something but leave, emotionally drained from the day's events as well.

But you felt the urge to look for the people who had done this to Klaus. You felt the rage in the pit of your stomach burn and you pushed through the tiredness from your two basically sleepless nights. 

“-Interrogation over.” Klaus huffs, leaving to go after you but by the time he makes it outside you’re gone. 

//

A knock on the car window makes Diego and Klaus jump, seeing it's you Diego rolls down the window. “You guys suck at hiding.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Same as you, I'm getting revenge,” You smirk.

“They'll see you,” Diego hissed. You shrug looking up at the mostly abandoned motel.

“”They know why I'm here,” You say looking up and catching Hazel’s gaze. You flip him off smiling grimly. 

“Get in.” You slip into the backseat digging into your jacket pulling out the gun you got the other night.

“I have a gun.” You say after a pause, making Diego whip around to see if you were joking or not.

“Why?!” He exclaimed reaching for it, you pull it out of his reach, as Klaus looks at you amusingly.

“I traded with my roommate for it.” You grin.

“Jen?” He asks.

“Mhm, well it wasn’t exactly a trade, she was like give me your drugs, bitch,” You gesture with the weapon, making Diego flinch, “and I said, Jen, please put it down, and she just kept yelling so I went and got the drugs and she threw the gun at me and told me to get out, and I mean even without any weapons she's pretty intimidating-”

“Where are you staying?” Diego asked, now more concerned than he was before. 

“In my car, “ You say casually, Klaus gave you a worried look, suddenly feeling guilty he hadn't thought about that before. “So now I have like three outfits, from when I was staying in my car last year, no drugs, and a gun.” You explain counting the things off on your fingers.

“Gimme that-'' Diego wrestled you for the gun, reaching behind the driver seat to get it. You yell as he snatched it from your hands.

“Stop! That's one of my only possessions, I gave everything for that!” You pout.

“Relax we were gonna use it for the same reason anyway.” He mutters checking to make sure the gun was loaded.

“Oh. Okay well, go get em, sport,” You grin almost sarcastically, patting his shoulder and exiting the car.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I was gonna use the gun on them, but since you took it from me, I’ll just have to use my hands,” You smile wildly at Diego's shocked expression. He holds you back from climbing the back stairs of the motel, pushing you back into Klaus who had stepped out with his brother. 

“You two stay here.” He states not waiting for a response before sneaking discreetly but efficiently up the stairs.

“Are you seriously staying in your car?” Klaus asks, concerned etched in his tone.

“Yeah, where else would I go?”

“The Academy? Vanya's place?” You laugh at the thought. You had put her through enough over the years. “And you’re sober?”

“I had to be, I was looking for you,” You say looking over at him as you trailed behind Diego. “And I have no money,” You tease taking a breath as you two finally catch up to Diego. 

“Don't wait up,” You smile racing ahead of the two. You turn a corner into the open motel room. Empty. “Shit,” A shot rings out outside and Diego groans in pain. You sprint and take the gun from his hand, turning and shooting at the vehicle speeding up the street, hitting and shattering the back window and just barely missing one of the back tires. Another shot is heard but you barely notice as you sigh, having let them escape once again.

“Holy shit, (Y/N),” Klaus exclaims holding a hunched Diego, his eyes glued to your abdomen. You look down to see the wound bleeding through your sweater. 

“I'm keeping this.” You state calmly about the gun, aiming to finish what you started. You turn the corner before writhing in pain. Maybe Klaus was right. Maybe Vanya would take you in, at least for the night. You struggle up the street, gripping your stomach, she was only a couple blocks away.

//

“What about my family.” Five muttered.

What about them” The Handler spoke, unamused.

“I want them to survive.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” he paused looking over at Klaus, “And that (Y/N), I want her alive to.”

The Handler chuckled, “Well you don't have to worry about that,” She grinned. Five gave her a suspicious look. She shrugged “I'll see what I can do,”

Tag list, 

@anthonystarksglasses 

[slashiest-slasher]

For @slashthedice‘s Frisky February!

Day 9: Consensual Non-Con

Billy Lenz x Male s/o (WOW this is fucking long, obvious tw applied, don’t like don’t read)

Billy would never touch you without your permission. Okay, maybe that's a lie. He quite frequently hugs onto you and feels you up whenever he damn well pleases. But he would never take advantage of you, never go beyond heavy petting and steamy makeout sessions without waiting with baited breath for you to nod and tell him he can go on ahead.

For all of his eccentricities and oddities, he's holds your comfort (at least, your comfort regarding your permission) strangely high. It's so conflicting that at times it makes your head spin. One moment, absolute filth will be spilling out of his mouth and his nails will be digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood, and the next, he'll demurely look up at you through long, pale lashes asking "Can Billy?"

Honestly, it turns you on sometimes. But there were times when all you want is for Billy to take you fast and hard, without hesitation. To wrangle you to the floor and have his way with you, even if that's the last thing you want. When it's daylight out, and Billy is hidden away and sleeping in the attic, it's about the only thing you can think of when you have some you-time (which is jerking off in the shower, typically).

And tomorrow just happens to be the exact day that everything just so happens to line up for you. Barb's planning an absolute rager of a pre-game before heading over to her latest fling's place for the actual party with the rest of the girls, excluding Clare, who's heading down to the police station to get something done about the Moaner's phone calls.

You wish that you could get Billy to stop that particular habit, but he went hysterical at their reactions, how indignated and flustered and scared the girls that the sorority would get whenever he called. You found it fun at times, when Barb would tell you to "be the man of the house" and handle the calls, mostly because Billy endlessly frothed about pussy and she thought it would be a riot to have a guy on the phone. 

Getting Billy riled up by dirty talking (or dishing him some of his own medicine, as the others thought) lead to some great sex with him. Where he would almost take you the moment he sees you, but still pauses, waiting for your response.

So you get planning, sitting Billy down the night before and carefully trying to explain to him what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, fuck you tomorrow even if you say no. To hurt you as much as he wants. To only ever stop if you tell Billy red, or slow down or do something else if you say yellow. That you get off on this kind of thing. You won't get shitfaced tomorrow, just enough that you won't be able to fight back properly.

Billy is vibrating again in his spot on the bed. "You won't... You won't hate Billy? If Billy does to bad things t-t-to you?"

You shake your head and caress his face. "Not when I'm telling you it's fine, and as long as you stop when I say that phrase. You can be as rough and as mean as you want, and I won't get mad at you."

"But- what if Billy doesn't want it? Wh-what if Billy doesn't want to be bad?"

"Then we don't have to. It's just a fantasy babe, I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want. And if you start to get uncomfortable, you can say the same phrases, and we can stop."

Billy nods slowly at first, but ramps up, and suddenly stops to look you in the eyes. "You trust Billy th-that much?"

There's some part of you that wants to say no, you don't Billy is so unpredictable, that there are times you think you're going to wake up to him standing over your bed with a knife. But at the same time there's something that tugs inside you that says otherwise, that as feral as he gets, he would never hurt you. You tuck a lock of stray hair behind his ear, and caress his cheek. "Of course I do Billy."

Billy's cheek go red, but you don't get to see it for that long before he launches himself at you, burying his face in your chest and spilling out gibberish. You catch a "Love you, love you, love you" and a "sweetie pie" which makes your heart skip a beat.

The next day, you've got a nice buzz going for yourself. A nice pleasant warmth in your gut and fuzzy feeling in your head that makes you misjudge how your legs are working just a little bit. You have your wits about you, so you trail behind the girls as they leave, leaning heavily on the doorway to wave them goodbye. Clare had left five or so minutes earlier to head to the police station.

"Bye bye girls! Be safe!" you shout after them, blowing a kiss and giggling when Phyl catches it in her hand and presses it to her chest.

As you stumble your way back into the living room and let yourself fall back onto the armchair, you surmise that maybe, just maybe, you're a little more drunk than you originally thought. Your head spins and pulses when you land, so instead of going to turn the TV on like you were planning, you sink back into the armchair and try to get your wits about you.

You sit around for a good ten minutes trying to get your head to stop swimming, staring up at the ceiling. The bones of the house creak and groan, but you wrap that up to the wind and cold warping it. Claude had hopped up onto your lap some time ago, curling up and nipping at your hand when you don't immediately start petting him.

"You sill fat cat, you're so needy," you tease, stroking his white fur. He chirps briefly, but puts his head back down on your lap and starts purring. It's nice, lulling you towards sleepiness. That was a problem with you when you drank, if you didn't push through the initial drowsy haze, you pass out pretty quickly.

Just as you're about to nod off, someone grabs you by your head and pulls you over the armrest. Claude scatters, and you're thrown heavily to the floor. Above you stands Billy, chest heaving and eyes glued to you. Well, you're wide awake now. He hesitates for only a moment before hauling you to your knees by your.

"P-pretty cunt," his other hand goes to undo his belt and fly. "F-fucking t-tease, you want my f-fucking cock? My f-fat juicy cock shoved into your p-pretty p-p-pink lips, f-fucking your throat."

You try to get away, but the tight grip on your hair makes you wail and tears to spring up. "Get away from me!" you shout, grabbing his wrist and trying to loosen his fingers.

He silces you with a sharp slap across your cheek that makes your teeth clack together and leave bleeding scratches on your face. With his grip on your locks still tight, he drags you across the living room, and throws you onto the couch.

While you're still dazed and reeling from the slap, Billy rips you shirt off and slips his belt free to tie your forearms together. "Tie up the p-piggy bitch, so it can't get away when I f-fuck its holes." He roughly pulls down your jeans halfway down your thighs and just barely runs his fingertips along your bare ass.

"No! Don't fucking touch me!"

It makes Billy's hands stutter for only a moment, but he continues on, and spreads your cheeks. The first swipe of his tongue has you letting out a sharp gasp. He's drooling again and he forces his tongue into you, lapping and making wet, squelching noises.

Billy is like a man starved, trying to get as deep as possible, and digging his nails, drawing more blood, into your ass. Spit and drool dribbles down your perineum, and you really have to fight to not moan. You thrash weakly instead as your sensitivity builds. "Please, stop! I don't want this!"

Again, it makes Billy pause just enough. He pulls himself off of you and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He slurps on his fingers briefly before slipping them inside your already soaking and dripping, and hurriedly rushes in trying to stretch you. It feels more like a cursory exploration, quickly getting in to press firmly against your prostate, just to see you shiver and moan. He fumbles getting his fly undone, and that's when you take your chance.

You try to toss yourself bodily over the couch, and manage to get down on the floor (bringing Billy with you). You squirm out from under him, and knee him in the gut for good measure before struggling up to your knees.

Where to go, where to go? Outdoors is a no since you can't even get the door open like this, let alone would you be willing to run outside with your dick and ass out. The basement would be the smartest choice.

Billy catches up to you surprisingly fast, skittering to a stop at the foot of the stairs. You give no mind to kicking him in the chest, sending him sprawling back into a table, knocking the vase off.

While he's trying to collect himself, you dart up the stairs to your bedroom. Under the bed is the only place you can hide, so you drop to the floor and slide under.

Your heart is thumping hard against your chest, and it takes all of your power to get control of your breathing when you hear Billy thundering up the stairs and yelling expletives and your name. Your heart feels like it stops when your bedroom door swings open, bouncing off door stop before he slams it close and locks the door. He stands there a moment, turning bodily to look around.

Just when you think he's going to turn around and leave, he crouches down and stares at you with one eerily lit eyes. "Agnes, it's me, Billy," he whispers, grabbing onto you ankles tight enough to hurt. It makes your heart skip from a real palpable fear that Billy has slipped into a manic state. But you've got to trust him, you've got to have that faith.

Instead you squirm and kick, trying to break free of his grip, but you aren't able to, and just keeps pulling until you're out, and his crotch is pressed to your ass. He swings at you once, catching you in the lip. Enough to throw you off and wrap his hands around your throat tightly, and smack your head against the floor. It makes your vision go black, your head to swim, and panic rising up in the back of you throat.

"Yellow," you manage to rasp out.

Billy immediately lets go of you, and stares down at you unblinking, panting, while you coughed and sucked in air. Completely silent, just watching. He only waits until you've just caught your breath before getting up and heaving you onto your bed, face smooshed in the pillows and ass in the air.

Billy doesn't wait for any confirmation, or assurances, or okays, and climbs onto you and thrusts into your. His hips don't need any time to find a pace, and he's pounding into with no care for the sobs coming from you. "F-filthy f-fucking pig, taking my cock, you like it~" Billy teases, fucking into you harder. He squeals and snorts, rambling off.

Neither of you hear the door struggling to be opened downstairs.

"St-stop! It hurts, it hurts!" you cry, tears spilling down your face. Even with Billy having eating you out, the spit isn't much for actual lubrication. "Get off of me!" God it burns, but your thighs are trembling and your cock is rock hard. When Billy amps up, close and chasing his orgasm already, he fucks you as hard as he can, which only makes you cry harder. It suddenly becomes slicker, and you know it's because of your blood.

Billy cums inside you, and with little care pulls out. His cum spills from you, and with much softer and gentler hands, reaches around to stroke your cock, but there’s yelling from downstairs and people running up the stairs. Billy jump out of the bed, quickly doing up his pants while someone tries to kick the door open.

He's out of the window and sprinting into the dark, shadowy corners of the neighborhood before the door finally opens. It has to be a nightmare when Lieutenant Fuller burst through, Clare close behind him.

"Jesus Christ," he lets out in a breath, and Clare gasps when she get in and sees you. "Go wait downstairs," he orders.

"But-"

Lt. Fuller's voice is soft as he directs her out of the room. "Let the man have some dignity." Lt. Fuller turns back to you, and undoes the belt around your arms. It leaves bright red marks where the skin was rubbed raw.

His hands hover on your shoulders while you push yourself up with arm, while the other tries to pull up your pants and hide your erection. Thankfully, Lt. Fuller looks away the moment he notices it, letting you get your pants up all the way and zipped up.

He takes off his coat, and places it on your shoulders. You were shaking, weren't you? you could hardly notice. Oh what a mess. Billy was never going to come back, was he? Fuller grabs a kleenex from your nightstand and wipes at the tears on your cheeks. He stops at you hisses when he wipes the tissue over your injured cheek. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get that creep, and make sure he gets locked up."

You numbly nod, and pull the coat tighter around yourself. You let him lead you out of your room and down the stairs into the kitchen after a distraught looking Clare tells him not the living room, your torn shirt in her hand.

He sits down opposite of you at the kitchen table, while Clare busies herself with making some coffee. Lt. Fuller pulls out a notepad and pen. "Son, I know it hurts to think about, but can you remember anything about what the perpetrator looks like?"

You shake your head, not looking up from the table. Time to put those acting classes to good use. "I-I don't know, it was so dark, and I was so scared. I think he had short, dark hair? Maybe? A-and he was taller than me, I think. His skin kind of looked yellow, but it could've been the light" You accept the cup when Clare passes it to you.

"Is that all?" Fuller asks. "Don't worry if it is, you were under a lot of stress. I'm surprised you remembered anything."

Clare suddenly gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. "You don't think it was the Moaner? Or," she shudders. "I know you don't want me bringing it up, but could it have been Will?"

"Will? Who's that?" Fuller asks, eyes darting between you and Clare.

"My..." you mutter quietly enough that Fuller asks you to repeat yourself. "My boyfriend," you get out, looking into your coffee cup.

Lt. Fuller nods, scribbling it down on his notepad. "I know it's difficult to change habits, but that was made legal years ago. Legally, there's nothing I can do to you. But even if it was illegal..." You start shaking again, clutching your mug tightly. "Well, I've turned a blind eye more than once. Had a blind eye turned towards me more than once as well. All I need to know is if it could have been him."

You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding in. "No, it wasn't... It wasn't Will, he's the same height as me, a lot skinnier, and we would never hurt me. He adores me. And the guy he was- he was completely silent. I don't think it was the Moaner."

Fuller nods again, writing it all down. "Would you be willing to go to the hospital?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Alright, can't force you to do anything. I'll radio the information back, and if you'll let me, I'll station myself outside of your door."

You go to object, but Clare cuts you off. "Oh would you? It's so scary just us in the house alone with the Moaner and another maniac out on the loose."

Lt. Fuller smiles and pats her arm. "Of course, and tomorrow morning I'll have an officer stationed outside of the house. But tonight, he could try come back in, and I wan't to make sure both of you stay safe."

Clare looks so strung up that you don't say anything, and nod along with what he's saying. You drain down the rest of your coffee, and stand up. "I'm gonna go take a shower." You hand Lt. Fuller his coat back, before making him up a cup of coffe and also handing that to him. "I think there's some pastries in the fridge, you can help yourself."

"I'll be up to check on you in a bit."

"Yeah," you say, voice hoarse. As soon as you're out of view, your body deflates. The one night you try doing something different... You can only hope that Billy'll show up eventually. You don't care about how you feel, you're fine, embaressed, exhausted, but Billy... Just thinking about how scared he must be makes your stomach turn.

You stop and stare at yourself in the mirror before getting into the shower. And Christ you're a mess, no wonder Lt. Fuller was so worried. Your eyes are red and raw, tear tracks on your cheeks, one cheek swollen and scabbed from where Billy scratched you. Your lip is busted open and stings when you run your lip over it.

Your shower routine is the same as it normally is, though you are a bit more careful cleaning yourself out. Your fingers and the water stings. It seems like Billy isn't going to be topping for a while. You're sure he'll be devastated. You just want him back in your arms.

Thank fuck your bed doesn't have any cum stains on it when you go to crawl in. Your door doesn't close quite right, thanks to Fuller. The only thing on your bed is a thin sheet, to prepare for what Billy might do to you. The mess he might make. But everything hurts too much for your to care about the chill.

Your bedroom door cracks open, and for a moment you hope it's Billy, before Lt. Fuller walks in with two quilts, and a cold pack in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. He sets down the glass and cold pack on the night stand, before layering the quilts over your shivering body.

"You don't have to." You weakly say as he pulls the quilts up to your chin.

"You're right, I don't." Lt. Fuller grabs the cold pack and presses it to your swollen cheek, making you sigh. He sits down on the bed next to you. "I have a nephew, a few years younger than you. I'm never going to have kids, so he's the closest I got. And... You look a helluva lot like him, you know?"

You let him reach over and stroke your hair.

He watches you for a few moments before getting up. "I'll be out in the hall, alright? Yell if anything happens."

It isn't until a good half hour after Lt. Fuller leaves, you unable to drift into sleep, that you hear a light rapping on your window. When you look over, you see the familiar form of Billy, shadows entirely except for one unsettling eye hoisting himself through the window with less grace than usual. Not that he's ever been anything that could be described as graceful. Usually he comes into your room without warning, but the notice now is nice.

You shuck off the blankets and sit up on the edge of the bed, watching Billy fall to the floor with a loud thump, cursing quietly. He struggles to get up, and while you want to help, you think it's cute, how flustered he is and dusted in snow. You smile and let out a soft giggle as sprawls across the floor instead and huffs.

Until the door bursts open, again, and Lt. Fuller has his gun trained on Billy. And if Billy were in better shape, he would scatter and dive out the window, but he isn't, so he clambers and tries to crawl for you.

You rush to Billy, covering his body. "Don't! It's just Will!" you shout, holding Billy close.

Lt. Fuller lets out an irritated sigh and holsters his gun. "He couldn't have used the front door?"

You help Billy up from the floor, holding him close as he grips onto your shirt and hides his face in your neck. "He uh- We try to be subtle, with all the girls in the house... It just what he does."

He peers at Billy closer, placing a hand on his should which Billy flinches at. You pulls him away. "Will's sensitive, and shy. I told him what happened and he wants to be here with me, even though he knew you would be here."

Fuller looks between the two of you, how you turn your shoulder to him like a barrier, how Billy clutches at you and mutters into your neck. How you stroke his hair, and how tensely Billy's muscles are flexed. "I would have appreciated the warning you were having a visitor."

"I didn't know he was heading over, I would have, otherwise." No, you really wouldn't have. "Can we go to bed now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sleep well you two." Halfway towards the door, he pauses. "Will, be good and keep him safe."

Billy says something that sounds like 'yes sir', and Fuller leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him. Billy pulls his face back looking into yours. His eyes are brimming with tears, and his bottom lip is quivering.

You hold his face. "Hey, hey. I'm okay Billy. I'm fine. Lets get you into some pajamas and head to bed, alright?"

Billy nods, and lets you dress him in your oversized pajamas, which still look adorable on him. While changing him (not that he can't do it himself, you just love doing it) you notice his swollen ankle, and how his skin flinches when you touch his left side. You make sure to kiss both softly before dragging him under the cocoon of blankets.

You stroke his face and hair, pressing frequent kisses to his lips. "I love you Billy," you tell him over and over, pressing close to him.

He shivers in your arms, choking down whimpers. "B-bad Billy, stupid idiot. Agnes? Agnes? Where's the f-fucking baby-"

You cut him off with another, longer kiss. When you part, his eyes are still closed. "You're not bad, Billy. You're very good, and kind, and you know I love you. I would never love someone bad, and I still love you." Partially a lie, but you still believe every word.

[erideights]

You won't leave me behind so easily.

Request by anon: What would happen if, when Crowley went to the burning bookshop looking for Aziraphale, he instead found Y/N?

Pairing: Crowley x Fem!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 2072.

Warnings: Mentions of fire, I guess. And maybe a typo, I'm sorry.

Everything happened so fast.

Before anyone could really react.

The days until the prominent arrival of the end of the world were less and less and progressing faster, suffocating the throats of those few who knew about the great event and who, at all costs, tried to get out of it alive.

There was no way to stop it, Crowley thought.

There must be something we can do, Aziraphale argued in his head.

And Y/N? She was one more human, a victim of crossfire, with more knowledge than she could ever accept about the events to come and how her life would end in not that many hours.

The clock was running and she felt stuck, lost, drowned by the great plan that showed little mercy to her existence.

That the angel and the demon were now mad at each other because of their argument of how to proceed not too long ago did nothing to help in this apocalyptic scenario; it made things worse, divided the team of three, thus diminishing their hopes not only for saving the world, but for saving themselves.

And again, Y/N was only human...what could she do but watch everything happen and feel an oppressive impotence in her chest that made it difficult for her to breathe with each beat of her heart?

The scene in which Crowley and Aziraphale argued was playing over and over again in her head as she walked nervously and anxiously through the living room of her apartment, looking for a way to solve things with the few —small, minimal, null— resources that she had.

What could she do to make that pair of idiots come to good terms again and seek together how to get out of all that without dying trying?

Not finding the way to flee, because Y/N wasn’t 100% agree with Crowley's plan to go to Alpha Centauri, but the way to save the planet where they lived, as many millions more humans and thousands of animals and plant species that they deserved, in fact, to be able to continue their lives.

Because a war between Hell and Heaven to see who’s stronger? What a fucking joke, they looked like 10 year olds arguing in a school.

———

The characteristic siren of a fire engine sounded in the distance, not too far away, barely audible above Queens's You’re My Best Friend, as a 1933 Bentley moved through the streets of London at such speed anyone could think it defied the laws of physics imposed by the universe.

If only they knew.

The first sign of alarm for the demon was seeing the truck parked right in front of the bookshop that he knew so well thanks to the long afternoons and even longer nights spent there in company of the only two living beings for whom in reality, he would give his life.

The second, were the flames devouring the facade of the building, destroying everything in its path, without mercy for everything that housed its interior, not only physical but emotional. What happened to the laughter accumulated there? With the empty wine glasses and the existential crisis talks?

With his memories?

The third, and this was the trigger that forced Crowley out of his flat and start the car, was to stop feeling the presence of the angel on the face of the earth.

He couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to, he supposed that it was some divine thing beyond his comprehension, but Aziraphale had disappeared from his demonic radar and the idea of ​​the march of his best friend in times of crisis shrank his heart in a fist that only tightened more with every second of the clock.

To suspect that the woman he loved —a frail human prey to the terrible and countless facilities that she had to die— was with the celestial being until his disappearance, made everything worse.

His thoughts were running over each other in panic inside his head as he slammed the passenger door and his quick steps headed for the shop.

A snap of his fingers was enough to open the doors as well as to stop hearing the voices of the firemen trying to get his attention and save him from what would be an imminent death for an ordinary mortal. And once the doors were closed, Crowley's screams and cries for his best friend were muffled by the chaos around him; the wooden beams that supported the place wouldn’t last much longer, the shelves had already begun their fall across the entire floor.

There was no book that could survived that disaster.

Or so he thought before glimpsing from the corner of his eye a large copy whose green cover seemed practically intact, ends slightly scorched but no damage serious enough to give the book for lost.

But then he heard it.

A distant cough, a dull groan, a choked voice asking for help.

Y/N was laying on the floor, sweat coating her forehead and cheeks vaguely tinted with black dust thanks to the ash mixed with the air.

To the naked eye, she didn’t seem to had an ugly burn or a mortal wound that Crowley couldn’t heal with a little demonic miracle of his own, but that didn’t stop him from falling to his knees beside her and hugging her against him, promising once and again that everything would be okay.

She was conscious, but she’d breathed too much smoke to be able to move on her own foot, so regardless of whether her heart had flip in her chest when she saw the mischievous demon that she had fallen in love so hopelessly years ago, because that was the effect he always had on her, she felt relief that it was him who came to save her.

The last thing she could remember before falling into a terrible and suffocating unconsciousness were the golden eyes of the redhead, whose anguish —caused by the events— had flooded them at the verge of tears, and she couldn’t help feeling a sharp pain through her chest escorting her to the most absolute darkness.

———————

‘’Aziraphale?’’ For a moment Crowley thought his tired eyes were playing tricks on him and making him see things that weren’t really there, because a distorted reflection of what he considered his deceased best friend’d appeared out of nowhere in front of him and… that couldn’t be, right? ‘’Are you here?’’

But, contrary to the expected reaction —none under the premise of hallucinations— the demon frowned in confusion when the angel's voice reached his ears. ‘’Good question. Not certain. Never done this before. Can you hear me?’’

‘’Of course I can hear you.’’

‘’Afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things.’’ Aziraphale looked confused, disoriented and, more importantly, pained. Crowley supposed that, in his condition, —whatever it was since he couldn’t understand it—, the angel couldn’t see him; their gaze never crossed, the blue one of the platinum blond lost somewhere in the ceiling. ‘’Did you go to Alpha Centauri?’’

‘’Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend. And I... nearly lost her too.’’ Unconsciously, the demon's hand squeezed softly the one intertwined with his, although she probably wouldn’t feel it. In that moment, the redhead's peculiar eyes traveled to the calm face of the young girl, asleep and at peace in his bed; the damage she received wasn’t serious enough to feel the need to be taken to a hospital, it was rather obvious that he would end up taking care of her.

He wanted to.

‘’Her?’’ The angel looked even more confused for a split second, eyes widened and voice soaked in horror at the sudden realisation of the person they were talking about. ‘’Oh, wait, you mean Y/N? Did something happen to her? Please do tell me she’s okay.’’

‘’Your bookshop. It burned down. She was there.’’

His bookshop? Burned down? Reduced to ashes ...? He would ask, but his concern was not especially focused on one place, but on ‘’Did she? But I thought… I thought she was with you—’’

‘’She wasn’t.’’ Crowley cut off quickly, a bit annoyed with his lack of knowledge about the whereabouts of the girl before finding her where he found her; he supposed that both had been so focused with the whole ''end of the world'' thing that, after the argument between him and the angel, when the three seemed divided by different urges, none cared about the only living being that, by her own, couldn’t escape. ‘’But don’t worry, Y/N’s here and she’s fine. She’s the strongest human I know, she’ll be okay.’’

And so the conversation between the two went on, the revelation of Aziraphale about where the end of time would begin, his relief knowing that his friend also rescued Agnes' book —that would give them a chance to save them all— and the promise of meeting there once the angel found a new body.

And in the same way he had appeared a few mins ago, he disappeared, returning the silence to the dark room of the fallen angel, who was in a heart dilemma; he couldn’t leave Y/N alone, not when he didn’t know for sure if he would see her again. But take her with him, in her state, and to such an extremely dangerous situation?

What he didn’t know either, was that the girl had been awake for a while, listening partially and in pieces his conversation with Aziraphale because, unfortunately, she wasn’t a celestial being, she couldn’t catch the presence of her white winged friend, but she did catch enough to know that she needed to ignore the faint pain that his body had and go with them to save the damn world.

So when Crowley sighed again, still shuffling his options, she sat up in bed without warning, causing her favorite demon to slightly jump in his seat in the chair next to the mattress.

‘’C’mon,’’ she said with much more vitality than one could expect, her voice stressing her impatience, for there was no time to lose. ‘’we need to go.’’

‘’We?’’ He asked, incredulous, snorting a bitter and dry chuckle from the deepest point of his throat. ‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’

‘’And will you be the one to stop me?’’ God, he was helplessly in love with that woman who only knew how to make snarky and sassy remarks when she wanted to piss him off. Was he a masochist or something?

But deep in thought, adoration written all over his face, he didn’t get the chance to really stop her until she was out of bed and heading towards the door of the flat down the corridor full of plants that, at Crowley's sight with that look of pure rage on his face, began to tremble.

Holy shit, she was fast.

‘’Y/N, for fuck’s sake,’’ he grabbed her left wrist and spinned her around, making the girl look at him straight in the face. To prove his point and try to intimidate her with his annoyed expression? Maybe. ‘’You don’t really have any kind of preservation instinct for your own life, do you? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?’’

But instead of being afraid of him, being the good girl he expected her to be and agreeing to stay away from all that, Y/N slipped out of his grasp, searching quickly for the lapels of Crowley's jacket. In a second she pulled these towards her own body to counteract the immense height difference and trapped his parted lips in a passionate kiss.

Oh, she wanted to do that for a long time now.

For a brief instant, Crowley was completely frozen, unaware that his feelings were indeed returned and of course, the moment in which he wanted to kiss her back and searched for the hips of the girl to bring her closer to him, she pulled back and fixed her deep eyes on the golden ones of the demon.

‘’We're leaving, both of us. And don’t you dare try to stop me, Crowley, I won’t leave you.’’

[thechildoflightning]

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch3- Bargaining

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Bargaining- Chapter Three

Summary: 

Stage Three: Bargaining- Characterized by making internal and external deals in order to cope with or even attempt to fix a loss.

In which Remy is talking, but not nearly enough.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide & Rape & Hate Crimes (all mentioned), Transphobia & Racism & Fatphobia & Ableism (all mentioned)

[ao3 link]

Bargaining- Chapter Three

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone claims, direct and to the point. Remy knows it’s from his dad, he’s the only one leaving Remy voicemails. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Look Remy, I get that you’re not happy. I know how much going to university meant to you. I get that, okay? But it just isn’t realistic and you need to accept that. I- look why don’t you come home? The college in town is great, maybe you can take a few courses there. I think it’s too late to sign up for this semester but maybe you can start in the spring. I know they don’t have some of the sculpture classes you were interested in but they have some creative writing courses and that’s pretty much the same thing, right? Just… Please call me. We can work something out together.”

-

A little while later, Remy and Patton settle in the living room. Patton sits on the couch and Remy’s a few feet away on the floor, hugging his dog as he slowly stops sniffling. Cha-Cha helps him out, covering his face in kisses to get rid of the tears. Remy laughs little and pushes her away after a moment.

The small chuckles ring out as the only noise in the room.

Patton still doesn’t speak.

Remy quickly falls silent.

“I came out as trans when I was fourteen,” Patton eventually says, “But- I- I mean I don’t- there wasn’t one moment for me. I- gosh I debated it for forever.” 

Patton stops and Remy considers. Remy’s kind of surprised in all honesty. Patton has always seemed so sure of himself that it surprises Remy that Patton ever had any sort of doubt.

“Why- why’d it take so long?” Remy asks carefully.

Patton hums.

“I guess- I was scared. That was definitely a big piece. There was this huge fear of what it would mean for my life if I was trans. Everything would change.”

Remy swallows hard. 

“I was- I didn’t know what my family would think. I mean- I knew they were supportive but it’s different when it’s your kid, y’know? And there’s all the statistics of suicide attempts, rape numbers, hate crimes, it was a lot. 

“And I- I was also scared I was wrong? Because- because there’s this idea of what a black girl’s supposed to be like, y’know? And I had never been that. But I thought- I thought maybe it was just that? Maybe I wasn’t trans, maybe I was just pissed at the racist standards that follow black girls? And I hated my body but like- how much of that was trans versus being disabled? Versus being fat? So there were all these reasons that screamed at me that I was faking, that I wasn’t valid, that I could never be trans. It was scary because what if I was wrong, what if I was faking?”

Remy’s so scared of being wrong.

“If you were so scared of being wrong- how did you figure out that you were right?”

“I kept coming back to it,” Patton answered honestly, “And I thought- gosh if I keep having these excuses of why I’m not trans but I still end up here again and again and again, questioning my gender and so unhappy, then it’s gotta be true, right?”

Remy thinks she understands.

“And that was it at first, it still is,” Patton continues, “A big part of it now is trusting myself. I’m happy as a guy. It feels right. It is right. I’ve always been a guy. But there’s still doubts, and I guess I deal with those with just accepting them? Because maybe I am faking. Like- maybe. I mean I know I’m trans, but I think I’m always going to have that doubt. And if I’m always going to have that doubt, I’m going to live the way that makes me happy in the meantime. Does that make any sense?

“Yes,” Remy says, and she means it. “Yes. Yes. It does.”

Patton offers a small hum.

“Patton,” Remy says, and she's desperate now, oh so desperate. “Patton,” she insists. “Patton, I’m a girl.”

“Okay.”

Remy cries for the second time that night.

Patton offers a hug, and Remy shakily gets to her feet to collapse into his side. Patton wraps her up firm and tight and he listens to her. He listens and he hugs and he soothes.

It’s so nice.

Her mom never did this for her. She got so sick so fast that it had always been Remy comforting her than the other way around.

Her dad had, or he tried at least. He had wrapped Remy up, wrapped her up in layers and layers of bubble wrap, leading to suffocation instead of protection. Remy’s dad hugged her but it had always felt wrong. It always felt like it was about her dad, never actually about herself. His hugs were given as proof that Remy needed him, needed his suffocation, versus providing any actual care or comfort.

Remy hated that she almost missed them.

She curled into Patton a bit more. Patton lifted one hand to gently stroke her hair, soft ‘it's okay, it’s all going to be okay’ on repeat.

It takes her longer to stop crying this time.

“So,” Patton says, “Where do you want to go with this?”

“I’m a girl,” Remy says again. This time it's a bit stronger. “I’m a trans woman.”

“Okay. Absolutely,” Patton says, “That’s amazing and I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a pause.

“Can I ask about names and pronouns?” Patton prods gently.

“I… Uh,” Remy falters, because she hasn’t really thought this far yet.

“You can take all the time you need,” Patton adds, gentle and sweet, “And while I want you to feel like you can share this with me, you don’t have to either.”

“No- I- She. She/her. I- Feminine language too? Is that the word for that? I-” Remy pauses here. She tenses up, prepares for a fight. She doesn’t think Patton’s going to like what she has to say next, but she has to say it because it feels right. It feels so right, and she’s willing to defend it. “I’m keeping Remy. My name is still Remy.”

“Okay.”

Remy’s body relaxes, then tenses again. “Okay?”

“Of course Remy, whatever you’re feeling is valid. One hundred percent. I’m here to support you.”

“I- I just kept my name?”

“Well you can always change it later-” Patton admits. Remy winces. “Or you can keep it. It’s your name. All that matters is that you’re happy with it.”

“But-” Remy flounders. And it’s so stupid, Patton said it’s fine, why is Remy looking for a fight, “But?”

“Did you know my name is legally Patton Agnes Wilson?” Patton says abruptly.

Remy did not. She shakes her head slightly.

“Yeah I-” Patton continues, before stopping suddenly, “And I just pulled out my ID to show you. Putting that away now.”

Remy lets out a light laugh, and truly relaxes.

“Yeah. When my moms adopted me they gave me the first name Agnes, but I always went by my middle name- my deadname. My deadname hurt. A lot. So I chose Patton. But Agnes, Agnes meant something to me? And I didn’t want to lose that. So I made it my middle name, got rid of my deadname and made Patton my first,” Patton explains. He pauses once more, “Did I say that right?” 

He seems to be questioning himself more than Remy. He starts to mutter the sentence under his breath again, revising it.

“Yeah you said that right,” Remy confirms.

Patton laughs, and it sounds like bells.

“Okay. Good. But my point is- your name is your name, not anyone else's.”

“My mom named me Remy,” she admits, “I- my middle name is Alan. After my great-grandfather. That can go,” she insists, making a face.

“I can understand that,” Patton says wryly.

“Yeah.”

“Have you come out to anyone else yet?”

“No,” Remy sais, “No. No I don't think I was even out to myself. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Remy and Patton haven’t talked a lot. She knows that this conversation has to be painfully uncomfortable for Patton. After all, Remy did just show up at his house, live with him for a few months, leave for college, and then demand he share about being trans. Patton doesn’t even know her.

“I’m glad you did. I’m really glad I could help you with this.”

Patton’s such a good person. Remy’s so appreciative of that.

The door opens and seconds later there's excited skittering paws on the floor as Trixie races over to say hi to Cha-Cha. Cha-Cha perks up at the attention and they quickly begin to play with one another. Remy smiles at their energy and let’s them be.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, “Are you okay?”

She wants to say she’s fine, but maybe, well maybe she isn’t. She isn’t fine at all. She doesn’t know what to say.

(She thinks maybe she should tell Virgil she’s a girl. She did just figure it out, but it’s important. Virgil would understand. He would. But there’s something that tells Remy that she can’t. Not yet).

“I- I dunno? I’m upset,” she admits.

“About?”

“Kind of everything?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I- me and Pat were talking a bit?”

Virgil pauses then stands.

“Okay. I’ll let you be then. But if you need to talk- I’m here okay? You have people supporting you.”

Remy nods, because she doesn’t think she can force words around the choked feeling in her chest.

Virgil leaves.

“I don’t want to tell Virgil yet,” Remy says immediately after he leaves, “Or Logan. Or Roman. Or anyone. I told you, just don’t tell anyone else yet, please.”

“That you’re trans?”

Remy’s trans. She’s trans. It feels so freeing even as it terrifies her.

“Yeah,” Remy confirms, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Okay, that’s fine. It’s yours to share.”

A pause sits between them.

“Can I write this down?” Patton asks for a moment, “I write down important stuff to remember in my phone so when I forget I have it all. I wanted to ask because while my boyfriends would never read my notes unless I told them it was okay, it’s obviously still going to be out there in some way. But I want to write it down because there’s a very high chance I will forget.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Remy agrees.

“Thank you,” Patton says. He presumably pulls out his phone to do exactly that. “It’s getting late and I have a class at nine tomorrow. Did you want to talk more or…?”

“No, no, you can go to bed,” Remy insists, “I’m good, yeah. I'm just going to go middle name searching now. Uh how the hell do I even go about that choosing a new name?”

“Baby websites. They were created for expecting parents, trans people, and authors.”

Remy rolls her eyes at the comment.

She then groans. Like yeah, she wants to find a better middle name than Alan. But she does not want to be searching through millions of names to find the right one. How do parents do this?

“That’s gonna be so many names. Have any suggestions?”

Patton hesitates.

“Yeah?” Remy asks

“I- well. If you want… Eileen was my deadname. But if you want you can use that?”

Patton’s words are casual but Remy can feel the weight behind them, the power. Remy is absolutely floored by the offer. 

“I… really?” she asks.

“I mean if you want. It’s an idea. There’s a lot of names out there.”

“But you would be okay with that?” Remy confirms, because she is honored but she doesn’t want to take something that will make Patton uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he says, “I mean it’s not like I’m using it.”

“Remy Eileen Zurko,” she says, “Remy Eileen Zurko.” She smiles and knows she must look like an idiot.

“Yeah?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remy chokes out, “Yeah I love it.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Okay, I’m headed to bed.” Patton says, “Uh, the bedroom you stayed in is still empty. Extra towels are under the sink… I think. If you want to shower or anything.”

Remy gives a nod and Patton gets up to leave. Before he can fully exit, Remy calls out once more.

“Patton?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Remy’s not quite sure what she’s thanking Patton for in particular. Maybe the name. Maybe for the advice. Maybe for listening. Maybe for the entire conversation in general. Maybe just for being here.

But Remy is. Thankful that is. She’s so thankful.

“Of course. Really.”

Patton means it. Remy knows he does. It makes everything inside of her hurt.

When Patton really is gone, Remy gets up from the couch as well and makes it to the empty bedroom. She closes the door softly behind her and pulls out her phone, opening Kai’s contact. She has some apologizing to do.

-

“We’re going for a walk,” Logan announces, as he enters the doorway to the room Remy’s staying with. He blocks a fair amount of light, and Remy’s eyes struggle to adjust.

“Uh… I was actually about to leave. Maybe another time,” Remy bargains, because she was about to leave. Plus she thinks she might know where this conversation is going and she really doesn’t want to have it.

“Okay,” Logan says, and Remy thinks she’s won. “Then I’ll walk with you back to your dorm.” Nope, Remy’s trapped.

Remy doesn’t have any actual reason to refuse. So she accepts with a sigh and nods. She grabs her bag and heads for the door. At the door, she gets Cha-Cha in her harness and quickly steps outside, Logan trailing behind her.

The minute she steps outside she’s hit with blinding light and takes a step backward into Logan as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Remy?” Logan asks.

She ignores him for a minute, fumbling through her bag for her familiar sunglasses. Which she of course doesn’t have. Because she came here when it was dark out last night with a rushed back of minimal school supplies. Of course.

“Logan, do you have any sunglasses I can borrow?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, “One moment.”

He’s gone the next seconds and Remy keeps her eyes shut and sits down on ground, lying her head in her arms as she hopes for it to stop pounding.

“Hey,” Logan says, rejoining her. He sits down next to her. “Here.”

Remy holds out her hand and Logan hands her a pair of sunglasses. She takes a minute, letting the shooting pain in her head relax a bit. After that, she lifts her head and slips the sunglasses on, slowly opening her eyes. 

“You okay?” Logan asks.

There’s still bright spots in her vision and her head hurts, but both are fading. Her eyes also struggle to adjust to the change in light, but that’s nothing new.

“Yeah,” Remy says. She waits another minute for the panging in her head to die to a dull ache. 

She then stands. “Dorm?”

“Okay,” Logan says, “Do you want me to guide or Cha-Cha?”

Remy answers by grabbing his upper arm right above his elbow. They start walking, Logan guiding.

Logan makes a clicking noise as they make their way to Remy’s dorm. Remy just zones out and starts to think about how she’s going to apologize to Kai and Elliot in person. She texted them both last night, but Remy still knows they both deserve in-person apologies. She shouldn't have snapped at them.

Eventually Logan stops the clicking noise and reaches up to pat at his chest instead. He hesitates for a brief moment and then begins to talk.

“I’m worried about you,” he begins.

Remy just waits. She doesn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe if she listens- or pretends to at least- maybe Logan will voice his concerns and let her go.

“You are of course welcome to stay with us whenever you want. That isn’t what this is about and I want to make that clear. You always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay,” Remy says.

“Virgil doesn’t want to talk to you about this,” Logan confesses, “He thinks we should give you space.”

That means Logan disagrees. Remy wishes he’d just follow in Virgil’s example. It’s easier that way.

“I’m also not going to ask about last night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Patton expressed that it wasn’t- that it was different.”

“Different than what?” Remy can’t help but ask. She regrets it at once.

“Different than what I’m worried about. Or maybe part of it? Playing a role? But not the main idea.”

Remy stays quiet this time.

“You don’t seem happy,” Logan admits after a moment, “I thought things would maybe get better when you were away from your dad for a little bit. And in a sense I think you are doing better. But you aren’t doing… You still seem off. Not only unhappy, but… You seem detached? I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but it concerns me.”

“I’m fine.”

She isn’t. She knows she isn’t now, but for some reason she’s still unwilling to share that with Logan.

“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.”

“You’re saying I’m lying?” Remy can’t help but challenge. It’s not fair of her, but she doesn't want to be having this conversation.

“No,” Logan says, “I’m not sure why you keep saying you’re fine. Maybe you think it yourself. Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you are lying. I don’t know. Regardless, I’m concerned about you.”

“Okay,” Remy says. She knows that’s not the answer that Logan’s looking for, and maybe that’s a bit mean, answering in a way she knows Logan doesn’t want, but this is also Remy’s business so Logan can budge off.

Logan sits with that answer for a minute.

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” Logan says eventually.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I doubt that.”

“I talked to Patton.”

“Apparently not about the things I’m concerned about.”

Remy shrugs.

“I’m frustrated,” Logan says, “I don’t feel acknowledged in this conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy replies, “That wasn’t my point. I get that you’re concerned about me. I hear that. I don’t agree with the concern, but I hear that you are.”

“Okay. Thank you. I want you to talk to me, but I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Remy says.

Logan and her used to be so close. Why was that all crumbling apart?

“Okay,” Logan said, “That’s one of the many things that’s concerning me.”

Remy doesn’t reply.

“Remy, will you talk to someone?”

“I-”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be about the things I’m concerned about. I’m worried that you don’t have anyone you’re talking emotionally with in any scheme. Considering you’ve been through some deep emotional shocks lately, it concerns me that you seem to have no healthy outlets for talking about those things.”

“Uh huh.”

“Remy, I hope you talk to someone.”

For most of this conversation, Remy’s been numb. But there, for just a moment, she feels something.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Remy’s not going to, but she knows that saying she might will make Logan happy. It’s a tradeoff, lying to get Logan off her back. She hates that she doesn’t.

“Alright,” Logan says, and stops, “We’re at the front entrance to your dorm. About thirty feet to the front door, straight ahead. I’m headed to class. Call, text, or visit anytime.”

“Okay.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“No thanks.”

Remy doesn’t really feel up for it, and she knows Logan won’t be offended. She offers a handshake instead which is weird and doesn’t feel right for this conversation or their relationship, but Remy wants to provide something here. Logan accepts it. It’s awkward.

“Alright. Bye,” Logan says when their hands drop.

“Bye.”

Logan leaves, and Remy goes back to her dorm.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo

[galactic-magick]

I’m Not Your Enemy: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hey would you mind writing an Agatha x reader where reader finds the basement and confronts Agatha and she reveals herself to her and reader knows she's bad, she knows but she can't resist her and joins her side. Maybe with reader and Agatha having a fight first but Agatha convincing her? I just love my powerful witch lady. - @nyx-aira​ // Is it okay for me to request a agatha harkness x Female reader where reader finds out who agnes really is before Wanda does and she feels hurt by her not telling who she really is? Like she isn't mad at her just upset that she hid true herself from her own girlfriend? And agatha feels guilty but makes up for it? So kinda angst with a bit of a happy ending? I was so happy with her reveal lmao dhsjwbwkwnjw - anon

Summary: You find out your girlfriend has been hiding that she’s a witch.

Words: 700+

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7!! Also some angst

Author’s Notes: Hope it’s alright that I combined these requests since they were so similar!

-

-

-

Agnes is rarely a private person. She’s never been afraid of saying what’s on her mind or being herself, especially around you. As far as you know, she’s an open book, your beautiful-neighbor-turned-girlfriend.

But despite that, she’s never once let you come to her house, at least not inside. You always have your dates around town, and if you ever want to relax in a more isolated environment you go to your place. Whenever you’ve brought up going to her house she always has some excuse against it, like it’s too messy, or she’s getting renovations done, or her bunny pooped on the floor so everything smells.

Today though, you figure you have a reason to go inside.

She hasn’t been answering any of your texts and calls all day, which never happens. Plus you had a brunch date planned this morning, and she didn’t show up.

Surprisingly the door is unlocked, so you come right in.

“Aggie? Are you here?” you call, with no answer.

You look around all the rooms and can’t find her anywhere, until-

What is that?!

You stop in your tracks, unable to step any further.

Black vines cover an opening in the basement, dark and thick and spreading as far as you can see ahead.

You hesitantly walk forward, entering the void until you can see some dim light. You find a room covered with the same vines, some odd objects and books lining the walls.

You hear some footsteps, and before long Agnes comes in and drops what she was holding.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?!”

“I was worried about you, Aggie! You missed our date and you haven’t responded to anything-“

She places her hands on your shoulders and tries to shuffle you out, “You need to get out of here darling, you were never supposed to see any of this-“

You push her off, “See any of what? What the hell is this? Do you host some sort of weird cult down here or something?”

“Darling please, let me explain-“

“No! I thought you didn’t keep any secrets from me, how could you not tell me whatever this is?”

“Y/N,” she takes your hands and sits down with you. “Please just let me tell you now,”

You take a deep breath as she squeezes your hand, and you finally nod.

“You have every right to be upset. Honestly I just didn’t want to scare you away,” she says. “The truth is, I’m a witch. My real name is Agatha Harkness, and I know all the secrets about this town, most of them you’re probably not ready to hear. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you amongst everything, but I did, so I wanted to protect you, so I didn’t tell you,”

“You’re…a witch? Like an actual witch? You can use magic?”

“I can do much more than that, honey,” she smirks.

“I just,” you shake your head. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I’m your girlfriend, I thought you’d trust me,”

“I’m sorry,” she strokes your cheek. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. You’ll understand why I wanted to protect you. There’s forces at play here that could hurt you if you’re not careful,”

“Forces that you made?” your brows furrow as you connect the dots. “No well-meaning person has a dark lair like this in their basement, Aggie. Have you been hurting people? Manipulating me? How am I supposed to trust you anymore?”

“I’m not your enemy, darling,”

“Oh? Then who is?”

She takes your face again, bringing you close, “Like I said, I’ll explain everything. I love you and I won’t hide anything from you ever again,”

You look into her eyes, searching for anything not as genuine as her words. She seems to be telling the truth, and whatever she’s doing she must have a reason.

“Okay,” you nod. “I trust you,”

“Good,” she smirks again, kissing your forehead.

“But,” you sigh. “You are bad, aren’t you?”

“Depends on what you call bad, honey,” she laughs. “Doesn’t everyone like to make some trouble and have some fun sometimes?”

“I guess so,”

“See? Nothing to worry about,”

“Honestly I’d still stay with you if you were,” you mumble, but in the nearly silent room there was no way she couldn’t hear it.

“Would you?” she hooks a finger under your chin, teasing a kiss.

“Just…try not to kill anyone at least, okay?”

“Hmmm, I’ll try my best,” she whispers, closing the gap between you.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Number Eight: Part 2

It’s going to be a FOUR-part fic!

Pairing: Number Five x Reader

In the siblings’ haste to scurry out of the coffee shop, herding Seven and her newfound powers with them, none of them notices the man that had downed three cups of coffee stand up and follow them out. He throws a ten-dollar bill down on the table, which isn’t even enough to handle the cost of the drinks, and Agnes doesn’t notice it until he’s long gone (in more ways than one).

Three is babbling incessantly to One and Seven at the same time, while Seven looks extremely overwhelmed. In fact, wherever she walks, cracks appear in the pavement. You notice them. Nobody else does.

When you tap Seven’s shoulder, she flinches violently away from you and whirls around, about to snap at you, but you just point down. She looks down and sees the fragmenting pavement.

“Calm,” you say softly. “Stay calm.” Your blank face doesn’t show the emotions swirling underneath at that flinch and the anger on her face as she turned around; it’s just as you’d thought the second you saw those donuts floating in front of Seven’s face. She’s leaving you behind to be friends with One and Three, caught up in the euphoria of not being ordinary. Of course. What do you even have to offer, anyway?

(It’s these moments when you question why Number Five is—was—close to you, because he always seems so cold and unreachable to the others, but he melts around you. Why? You’ve asked yourself, a little desperately, on the cold nights when you can’t sleep, Why does he like me? Your own mother hadn’t.)

“Okay,” she says, breathing deeply. “Gotta stay calm.” She grins at you. “Eight, isn’t this amazing?”

You nod, forcing a smile for her. Five would have been ecstatic to hear about Seven’s powers. Seven turns around and hurries to catch up with the siblings, the ground no longer breaking away under her shoes, and you follow after them at a slow pace. You don’t want to go back to that big house that should have Number Five in it. Without him, you’re too lonely and the house too big, too quiet.

“Eight, hurry up!” Seven yells over her shoulder before turning the corner at the end of the street. You know you should hurry up; Sir Reginald wouldn’t be pleased to hear you’d all snuck out to eat donuts.

For a moment, you pause and close your eyes. Picturing him in your brain, you try as hard as you can to jump to Five, but you can’t wrinkle up space. Your fists try to push reality away, but reality pushes back.

You still can’t jump to him.

The sound of the rest of the children’s chatter is getting quieter, and it’s, frankly, a relief. They’re always so loud, all the time. Five knows when to be quiet.

A heavy hand falls on your shoulder and you jump violently. “Hey, little miss,” the man that had been drinking coffee smiles. He’s missing two teeth. “You and your siblings forgot your money at the donut shop.” One quick inhale through your nose has you struggling not to cough; this man reeks of cigarette smoke and coffee. If there ever was a more disgusting combination, you’ve never smelt it.

You frown. How much money could your siblings have brought that this nice man would chase after you about it?

“Hey, Eight!” you hear One calling from far away, almost a full street’s length. You’re honestly surprised they noticed you’re not with the group. “Eight! Come on!”

“How’s about I drive you back to the shop and we can pick up that money, all right?” The man smiles, making his beard twitch.

Slowly, you nod. Really, Griddy’s isn’t too far away, but you suppose the man is just being nice.

“Hey, Eight!” One yells. He sounds a little bit louder than the last time he’d yelled. You pretend not to hear him; you don’t want to have to try to explain that you’re going back to get money when you could get the money and then go back to the house with it. It would be easier to explain wordlessly.

“My car’s right over here,” the man points. You’re suddenly very aware that his hand is still on your shoulder. This is… the second person you’ve ever met that hasn’t been scared to touch you. Even Sir Reginald’s doubts fly across his face every time he grabs your hands.

The man unlocks his car a few steps away from it.

“Eight, what are you doing?” you hear Six yell. You look around; why is Six yelling at you? You’re just going to get your money; they’ll all be pleased with you once you explain it to them.

Six and One are turning the corner, almost running. For the split second they pass under a streetlamp, you can see distress painted clearly onto their orange-tinted faces. Why?

You wave at them to tell them you’re okay. The man, seeing that wave, turns his head around quickly and curses. Before you know what’s going on, he picks you up around the waist and opens the door to his car. You try to wriggle out of his arms but he holds you fast.

“You put her down!” you hear One bellow and the sound of fast footsteps.

Suddenly you have a bad feeling about this man. It’s too late, though; he shoves you into the car, scraping your elbow and knee in the process, and gets in after you.

“Eight!” you hear Six bellow. They’re close enough for you to see the panic on their face, and they’re close enough to see the panic on yours.

“Shit,” the man mutters. He jams his keys into the ignition of the van and you know for a fact that if he starts the car, bad things will happen.

You grab onto his wrist with both your hands.

When One wrenches the car’s door off its hinges altogether and Six tries to get inside, all he sees is you sitting in the passenger seat. In the driver’s seat is…

Six vomits for the second time that night, barely managing to hold it in before getting out of the car. He’s never before seen a corpse that looks shrunken, skin pulled taut over every bone and tinted grey. You look at Six, confused, before laying your hand on the corpse again. It crumbles to ash.

“Eight, what were you…” One drops the car door, staring at the ashes. He’d had the good luck of not seeing the shrunken corpse, but he can guess what the ashes are.

“He said we left money,” you say quietly. For some reason, Six notes, you’re smiling. How can you be smiling? “He said he was going to drive me back to Griddy’s to get it.”

One and Six exchange looks as you slide out of the car, almost giggling. Your elbow and knee aren’t scraped anymore. They feel fine. You feel fine. You feel perfect, actually. You feel so good you can do anything.

Even the way One and Six cringe away from you doesn’t make you feel bad anymore.

“I’ll be back,” you say decisively.

“What?” One drags his eyes away from the ashes in the driver’s seat. “Where are you going? Eight, we need to get back to the academy—”

“I’m going to find Five,” you say quietly. This time, when you try to wrinkle reality, it wrinkles easily. Six and One say something loudly behind you, but it’s too late; you’re already leaning forward.

You step through the wrinkles and into—

death.

“Tell me the whole story again,” Sir Reginald demands.

One and Six exchange nervous glances. Reginald has told them to repeat the story two times now and it hasn’t changed. All he does is write furiously in his notebook, snap it closed, and open it to write some more.

“All of us went to Griddy’s down the street,” Six says quietly. Though Sir Reginald hasn’t said a word about punishment for sneaking out, Six can’t rule out the possibility. “We were eating donuts and Seven put a quarter in the jukebox to play a song.” He drums his fingers on the humongous chair’s humongous armrest. Next to him, One’s left knee bounces up and down relentlessly.

Who isn’t nervous when speaking with Sir Reginald? Six thinks to himself, and the answer comes immediately: Five and Eight.

Five always disrespects Sir Reginald and argues with him. It was because of an argument he’d had with Sir Reginald that he’d left at all! And maybe it was just Five’s bad influence on Eight, but she never seemed to follow Sir Reginald’s every order exactly like One. Eight doesn’t say much—certainly not now, and not much even when Five was still around—but sometimes you can see on her face that she wants to talk back to Sir Reginald.

It’s a wonder Six is even moderately close with them.

“What song?” Reginald asks.

Six would like to ask why that matters—shouldn’t Reginald be more concerned about Five, and now Eight, being missing? Sure, Seven has powers now and that’s crazy, but it’s not like she’s going anywhere. No one knows where Eight or Five are. They could be dead for all Six knows!

He can’t ask that, though. He can’t stand even the thought of Sir Reginald frowning when he looks at him and thinking, Six obviously can’t listen to directions. Why should he be allowed to be a part of the academy?

Six may hate the academy, but he knows he’s got nowhere else to go. Plus, he likes hanging out with you and Five, at least when Five isn’t being rude to everyone around him (except you; Five never snaps at you).

One answers, “I Think We’re Alone Now by… I forget who. Seven was humming and then the donuts on her plate started to float. It couldn’t have been anyone else, right?” He looks at Six and Six nods. “Yeah. None of us can do that.”

“I will have to look into Seven’s newfound powers,” Reginald muses, a glint in his eyes that Six doesn’t really recognize or trust. Six almost feels bad for Seven; being ordinary in a group of extraordinary children is hardly fun, but training with Sir Reginald is terrible. He’s done something to Four, almost broken him, and Six feels infinitesimally small whenever those beady eyes fall upon him.

“What about after leaving the diner?” Reginald asks.

It’s just the same questions, over and over again, and the same answers. What’s the point of this?

“The point, Number Six,” Sir Reginald says sternly, and the color drains out of Six’s face when he realizes he’d said that out loud, “is to see if either of you remember any other details after going over the memory in your head. So I’ll ask again… what about after leaving the diner?”

Six remains white-faced and tight-lipped, so One says softly, “We were so excited that Seven has powers, we all rushed ahead. Eight got left behind.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Reginald makes a mark in his notebook, and it feels like a death sentence to Six. What if he’s writing about how careless they all were? What if he’s writing about how it’s their fault Eight was almost kidnapped? “And you went back for her?” He snaps the book closed and looks Six straight in the eyes.

Six nods, a jerking movement that hurts his neck, but still doesn’t speak.

“She was talking to a big dude with a beard by the time Six and I got eyes on her again,” One says, almost vibrating his chair from how hard his leg is bouncing. One lifted eyebrow from Sir Reginald freezes him completely. “She waved at us, which must have freaked the big dude out, because he grabbed her and shoved her inside the truck.”

“By the time we got to the truck,” Six says softly through numb lips, “the man was dead.” He doesn’t even want to think about that pale grey skin pulled taut, the way the man’s eyes bulged out of his head… Aaaaand now he’s thinking about it. Great.

Reginald nods. “How?”

Six glances at Sir Reginald, One, and then down at his feet. “She’d… sucked the life out of him?” he phrases it like a question because he doesn’t really know if there’s a term anyone’s actually used for Eight’s style of killing. One frowns, confused. “And then she touched him again and he crumbled to dust.” One’s mouth half-opens with understanding and surprise. He’s very glad he hadn’t seen the crumbled corpse Six must have. One’s seen what Eight can do to flowers. He can’t imagine it looks better on humans.

“Hmm.” Reginald half-opens the notebook before closing it again. “Continue.”

“Eight stepped out of the truck and said something about finding Five before she jumped and disappeared,” One finishes.

“She was smiling,” Six mutters.

“What was that, Number Six?” Sir Reginald asks, frowning down at his notebook.

“I remember Eight was smiling. I didn’t know why. And I don’t know how she jumped. She’s been trying for the past month to jump to Five, but for some reason her power wasn’t working.”

Six hadn’t mentioned to Eight, because he hadn’t wanted to see her spirits crumble and lips tremble, that the reason she can’t jump to Five is probably because he’s dead. The fact that she jumped after getting out of the truck implies that she’s either found out how to jump to a specific area and not to a person, or her powers simply hadn’t been working but they’re back on track now.

Or maybe she jumped to someone else besides Five.

“Very interesting.” Sir Reginald hits the notebook against his thigh once before snapping, “Now get out! I will decide your punishment for sneaking out in the morning.”

One stands up immediately, but Six doesn’t. “What about Eight and Five?”

“Number Six—”

“Aren’t you going to try to find them?” Six presses. “They could be in danger as far as we know—”

“As far as we know, Number Six, Numbers Five and Eight are dead,” Sir Reginald says quietly, standing up and putting his hands on his desk so he can lean and loom further over Six, putting him in his shadow, making him feel small.

Six gapes at him.

“Now get out of my office!”

Excerpt from Reginald Hargreeves’ Journal:

November 30, 2002

It has come to my attention that the children have been sneaking out of the academy to go to, of all places, a donut shop. Must supervise children more closely—possibly change Nanny’s coding so that she won’t let them out. Tell Monkey he’s on thin ice.

While at the donut shop, Seven realized her powers, which makes the situation much easier for me. All I have to do now is put on a reasonably good show that I don’t know how I missed that she has powers.

The only problem is that the whole reason I took her off her medications has disappeared.

In the children's’ haste to get back to me, they left behind Number Eight, who was almost kidnapped by an unnamed man (deceased, Number Eight). Six and One noticed her absence and went to look for her. By the time they got to the car the man had thrown Number Eight into, she had already taken all the man’s energy from him. Six watched as she turned him into dust. He reports that Eight was smiling. No doubt she was intoxicated with the energy she had absorbed.

It would have been a fabulous experiment, had Number Eight come back to the academy. Instead, she jumped somewhere, and unfortunately, the tracker I’d implanted in her arm appears to have disappeared. She couldn’t have cut it out; she doesn’t know about it. It’s the same situation I am in with Five.

Good riddance to the both of them. They both were the hardest to contain—I’ve yet to find a surface, material, ANYTHING that can block off their powers or that they cannot travel through, except for the limits of their own stamina and strength.

May they have a pleasant life in whatever time period they’ve jumped to.

Shame to lose the powers, though.

One whole year.

Five breathes out shakily as he carves the three-hundred and sixty-fifth tally mark into the wall of the half-demolished building he’d found with an old, rusty nail.

One whole year with no one to talk to, nothing to eat except dusty packaged food (and one terrible Twinkie that still makes his stomach churn to think about), and nothing to do except think about how to get back.

One whole year of complete silence that just makes the blood rushing in his ears louder.

One whole year of no you.

Five’s hand clenches around the nail reflexively. God, it still hurts so much when he thinks about that day. He hadn’t known—couldn’t have known—that that would be the last time he would have ever seen you. He’d been so angry with Sir Reginald and preoccupied with his own arrogance that he’d not even acknowledged you in the morning. You’d smiled at him and he’d stared right through it because he was angry that you were telling him to be cautious about his powers.

“Just jump five minutes into the future,” you’d said the day before. “So if you can’t get back it’s not a big deal.”

So, of course, Five had to prove you wrong. He had to show you that he doesn’t need to be cautious, that he’s not weak like Number One or Number Two. He had to show off, impress you, and he’d been so excited to see the awestruck look on your face when he came back from the future—the goddamn future—he hadn’t bothered to look at your face before he left.

“It’s like Reginald said,” you’d said the day before. “Slipping under the ice is easy. Coming back isn’t.”

And Five hadn’t spoken to you for the rest of the day because you’d taken Sir fucking Reginald’s side over his, and it turns out the kooky old man was right. Rebirth is hard, apparently, and Five can’t quite manage it.

So the last thing Five ever said to you was that you were wrong and stupid and that he would show you.

Well, he did show you. He showed you that he’s impulsive, stupid, and unable to do a little bit of time travel.

And because of an impulsive decision he’d made when he was thirteen years old, he’s now stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland for the rest of his life.

He’s going crazy, too—talking to himself, talking to inanimate objects and even imagining them replying back.

Five winds his arm back and throws the nail as far across the building’s room as he can, listening to it rattle around and hit different objects before hitting the ground, and slowly stopping its roll.

Like every other day in this hell, Five tries to get back after counting the days. He lunges forward, trying to jump, but he can’t. He can see the blue light wavering, feel it pushing against him, and he’s not strong enough to keep pushing.

Five spins around on his heel angrily and kicks the wall, spewing as many curse words as he knows. “I want to go back!” he screams. “I want to see my family! I want to see Number Eight!” His voice breaks. Five tries not to cry as he whispers, “I miss Eight. I miss my room.” Five’s so tired. He just wants to collapse onto his bed and sleep for days, but he can’t. The silence is too loud for him to sleep well.

Something crackles behind him and Five freezes. Is the fire still going? He’s pretty sure he put it out… it could have caught on one of the stray papers floating around his makeshift shelter…

Five whirls around and a body crashes into him. Five can barely wrap his arms around it, stumbling back, and he trips over one of the books he’d brought up to the building and left on the floor.

He falls onto his butt, dragging the body down with him.

“Whoa!”

Number Eight Taglist:

@dadzawas-eyebags @jenniegs @pokengirl2 @american-phycho@certainloverjudgepatrol @reducto-bitch @shywriteroflife @ask-veronica-sawyer-heathers @omegatomato @illufrustration

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

If you want to be added to a taglist, just let me know!

Requests are open! I’d love to write something for you. I’m accepting requests for Umbrella Academy, Supernatural, Stranger Things, and Marvel.

Take a quick peek at my prompt list for ideas!

[alex-baebae]

Immaculate

Chapter 20

Pairing: TOP X READER

I didn’t notice how much time we stayed there, suddenly Takashi called us “hey! What did you buy?” He said “oh…” the guys were in front of us “uh, we decided to wait for you”. We were talking when a girl ran into us “could you tell me if you see him?” She gave us sheets of paper with a guy’s face printed on “my phone number is written here” she pointed out “please call me as soon as possible if you see him” then she walked rapidly through the hallway.

I saw the paper, that guy was not Asian, so… he was that girl’s 'sex-doll'. I felt relieved instantly, it was like since the moment Josh commented it, I had been carry a huge weight on my back and fortunately after many minutes it was not there. “What the hell is wrong with the people like her?” Takashi said “those ones who own sex-dolls?” Josh asked “yeah, and with all the people who are rich” he told us annoyed looking to the girl who was desperately spreading her sheets of paper out “thank you, Takashi” I told him “no, I mean… not you. You’re the only rich person I have ever met who is not a j*rk” he said. I looked at TOP, he was relieved too 'you, okay?' I make the gestures with my mouth without sound, he nodded. I squeezed his hand and smiled, he smiled too and looked into my eyes.

Takashi hadn’t so much money, he always had to work hard. Neal usually helped him with money but only when Takashi accepted… Neal and Josh had not so much money too, but their families had enough to live a good life. “She seems so desperate and sad” Josh commented.

Aproximately three weeks before the creepy situation took place, TOP was getting better, the nightmares bit by bit were disappearing, I changed the colors of the apartment wall to make him feel more relaxed, and we did some aromatherapy too, that was helpful as hell. Nevertheless when that occurred TOP's healing stopped, fortunately he didn’t return to his initial state, you remember... that scared little boy I found. Well that was amazing because what we all experienced was… traumatic. He started to be stable, maybe more than I thought.

I’ll explain you quickly what happened, one day we were about to meet with Takashi and Neal. They were outside in front of the main building, they were eating, I guess. Takashi previously told us he was pretty hungry. We were still inside due to Josh, he had to talk with a lecturer and TOP and me offered to wait for him, Josh accepted.

Whatever… it is said that a blue SUV parked in front of the girl who had lost her sex-doll, she was outside too, sat on a bench, everyone didn’t suspect that, from that SUV were going to got out of it four men… they carried a black plastic bag, it was pretty big…

The girl was there with a friend, it is said she didn’t noticed them. Suddenly the guys throw that bag on her lap, it was her ‘sex-doll'.

“It was a guy… his body was quartered… lots of blood, something that seemed to be his intestines… his arms his legs… it was horrible” Takashi told us that when we all arrived at Josh’s house which was the nearest to the university. I could imagine how impressive the image was for Takashi, he was very impacted, he vomited as soon as he saw the corpse, that’s what Neal told us.

When we were walking outside looking for them, there were some curious people and the university's security guard around the girl, she was crying and shouting so hard, maybe the whole campus could heard her.

I took TOP's hand and turned him around so he wouldn’t be able to see more of such a brutal scene “look at me, sweetie, look at me” he was shocked, it was late “let’s f*cking find them, and get out of here” Josh said panicked “Josh, help me” Neal was almost carrying Takashi who seemed to be dizzy “sure, let’s go to my house” Josh offered “yeah, it’s the best option” Neal said scared of Takashi's situation.

At Josh home Takashi told us everything he saw, TOP was getting more and more scared, however I was hugging him, Neal was hugging Takashi too. “Guys, I guess it would be better if you stay here this night” Agnes told us so much worried “yeah, guys… don’t leave, it’s too late and this…” Josh commented “we’ll stay here, Takashi is not feeling well, thank you very much” as soon as Neal said this, Takashi ran to the bathroom, he vomited again “we too” I said “I’ll prepare two rooms for you all” Agnes said “N-No, please” Takashi was stood up near to the bathroom’s door “we can sleep here, we all” he told Agnes “I don’t want to be separated from them now” Agnes just nodded “well then, I’ll bring some blankets, pillows, I don’t know” she went upstairs.

I sent a message to my mother telling her we were okay, with photo of me and TOP attached. “What’s going on, ____?” TOP asked me whispering “calm down, my angel… this is not connected with us” he nodded and layed on my lap, he took my right arm and put it around his shoulders, I kissed his head. We didn’t talk in many hours, we all were shocked, no one wanted to talk.

“There are news!” Josh exclaimed “what they say?” Neal asked interested. "A sheet of paper was glued to the plastic bag, it said 'your daughter is the next corpse, Eduard Foster" Josh was reading the news for us "she's the daughter of that man?!" Neal exclaimed "yes, I didn't know" Josh said "neither I" Neal whispered "we must remember that the Senator was accused in June of being covering up illegal business" Josh continued reading "so it probably was a revenge or something" Neal commented "yes it could be, I guess they are threatening him" Josh told us "what else does that article says?" Neal asked Josh "that's all" he said.

"Poor guy" Agnes said "yeah, it's unfair" Josh said "Josh..." I called him "has the university said something about this?" I asked "no" he told me "it's probably that all the activities will be postponed" Takashi told me "yes, it's probably".

We were quite again, Takashi looked at TOP for a minute then he approached to him "Seunghyun" he called him, Takashi sat on the floor "are you okay?" He asked him "y-yes" TOP said nervously "I know that this is a really bad experience, and everyone here is kinda scared, so... Please do not hide your feelings, it's okay to feel scared, bad, if you felt that way... We'll help you okay?" Takashi told him with eyes filled with compassion, TOP nodded "thank you" he said "don't be ashamed please, I vomited a lot so..." Takashi laughed, TOP laughed a little too "yes, thank you".

We didn't notice that Agnes was in the kitchen preparing the dinner, in the room was a very delicious smell "guys, please eat something and after try to sleep please" Agnes told us, we walked to the kitchen where Agnes served us a delicious soup "I prepared something special for you, Takashi" she gave him his special dinner "thanks a lot" she smiled "you will feel better when you finish eating this soup".

That night we slept in the living room, except Agnes, she was in her room "if you need anything else, please let me know" she told us before went upstairs.

We were resting on the floor, Neal and Takashi used to sleep hugging each other as TOP and me. Josh was there with us, he was covered in many blankets on the sofa, we told him to sleep there due to there was no more space for him on the floor.

"You will stifle yourself with all those blankets" Neal told Josh "oh just shut up man" Josh fake angry "you are going to spend the winter or something? " Neal said joking, we all were laughing "none of your business, by the way... Don't you sleep naked?" Josh told him, Neal got embarrassed "why did you say that? Seunghyun is gonna think I'm weird" Neal started to poke Josh's body with his foot "oh what's wrong with you?!" Josh laughed uncovering his face "you seem like a mummy" I commented "oh! you too man? I believed you were in my team".

Seunghyun and Takashi were laughing hard while we were teasing Josh. "We should do this more often" Josh told us "oh you just were complaining seconds ago! and now you want to organize a slumber party" Neal teased him again.

I didn't know what we were going to do in the morning, but at least that night we were safe all together at Josh's house.

Good night, or Good morning y'all ❤️

Thank you for the ♥️, the comments, the messages and for reblogging (did I write it correctly?)

Love you ❤️

Alex

[amandajoyce118]

Daredevil Season 3 Easter Eggs And References

I somehow managed to watch the full season in about a week. Probably because I actually had a day off of work in there. These season of Daredevil borrows heavily from two very famous comic book arcs, “Born Again,” and “Guardian Devil.” If you’re familiar with the comics, you probably saw a few things coming. That being said, there aren’t a huge amount of Easter eggs in the season.

As usual, the Easter eggs are broken down by episode so if you want to read as you go without being spoiled for future episodes, you can. This is spoiler-heavy though, so if you’re trying to steer clear and haven’t watched the season yet, look away. I’ll understand.

I didn’t spend a lot of time explaining who people are if they’ve appeared in the show before, maybe just a reminder here and there in case they didn’t make a huge impression on you.

So, onto the Easter eggs!

S3E01 “Resurrection”

Father Lantom

I’m sure we all remember him from earlier seasons, but this is just a reminder of his role in the comics. In the comics, he also provides a place of refuge for Cloak And Dagger as well as the Runaways. Taking in heroes with sad backstories is kind of his thing.

St. Agnes

Again, sure everyone recognizes it, but also just a reminder that on Agents of SHIELD, the orphanage where Daisy Johnson AKA Skye AKA Mary Sue Poots spent her youth was also called St. Agnes. I’d still love a connection.

The Timeline

Despite Matt waking up and seemingly thinking he just made it out of a collapsed building, it’s actually been “several weeks,” which probably puts this happening right around the same time as the events of the most recent season of Luke Cage or Iron Fist. More episodes will likely clear this up.

Sister Maggie

She is a comic book character, plucked from the pages of the “Born Again” story arc. There’s likely a big reveal coming with Sister Maggie, so I won’t spoil that for you. She also features prominently in the “Guardian Devil” story arc.

Ben Donovan

This lawyer certainly gets around. Taking care of Wilson Fisk still even though he was devoting so much time to Mariah Dillard over on Luke Cage.

Fisk And The Wall

After he gets bad news, he stares at the white wall of his prison cell. You’ll remember in season one, he liked “White Rabbit In A Snowstorm” because it helped him think. It’s also how he was forced to deal with his father abusing his mother.

Rymon Cable

The van that has bad guys Matt decides to test himself against? It’s full of clothes even though it has the Rymon Cable logo on it. There’s no comic book connection to Rymon, but Holly S. Rymon is a “production executive” on the series. She’s also worked on Iron Fist, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and The Punisher over the last two years.

S3E02 “Please”

Fisk’s Deal

This deal isn’t unlike ones he’s made in the comics to further his own ends. During “Civil War” he actually passes information about Captain America to Iron Man, which briefly makes him a target for other criminals. He tries to get his stature back by putting a hit out on Spider-Man and his family, which backfires when Spider-Man shows up in prison and beats him to a pulp.

Karen’s Backstory

In the comics, she’s an only child, but she does have darker and darker side stories. She becomes a drug addict and a prostitute at one point, so I’m curious to see how much the writers reveal of her dark backstory here.

Blackout Cripples NY

This headline appears on a new newspaper clipping on the wall in Karen’s Bulletin office. Now, all of the other clippings were there before the office belonged to her, courtesy of Ben Urich. That means this new headline is likely one of her stories. That story is likely in response to the blackouts that happened all over the world in Agents of SHIELD season four when a hate group was making a statement about Inhumans.

Blake Tower

You all remember Blake Tower, right? He’s been showing up on multiple shows, just like Ben Donovan, Claire Temple, and Turk Barrett.

“Hell’s Kitchen is ground zero for vigilantes…”

Foggy’s not wrong. Daredevil, Iron Fist, Jessica Jones, and Luke Cage have all been around in the last few years. Iron Fist promised to protect Hell’s Kitchen, but the events of his last season changed things up a bit.

S3E03 “No Good Deed”

Kingpin’s White/Grey/Lavender Penthouse

The color scheme for Wilson Fisk’s room is very reminiscent of his clothing choices in the comics.

The Presidential Hotel

Was it just me who noticed the hotel, combined with the “Lock Fisk up,” the fake news comments, and the fact that the owner was convicted of fraud? I think those are a lot of real world shoutouts right there, and I appreciate every single one of them.

Fisk’s White Suit

Matt might be hallucinating Fisk, but this is Kingpin’s comic book look. It’s perfect.

Millar

I couldn’t make out the second name of the electrical/plumbing company Matt sneaks into the hotel with, but the first in the logo is definitely Millar. Frank Miller is typically the name associated with Daredevil, but I feel like Millar is a shoutout to comic book creator Mark Millar. He’s better known for the Kick-Ass franchise and his work for DC, but he’s also written on some X-Men books, some Fantastic Four, and some Spider-Man, as well as the “Civil War” arc.

Vanessa Hiding In Spain

Vanessa frequently has to hide out in the comics to escape the wrath of Wilson’s enemies. Spain isn’t usually a big spot for her, but Wilson lived there for about a year in the comics before Lady Bullseye caught up with him and sent a bunch of Hand ninjas after him.

Agent Poindexter

He seems to like the nickname Dex and he has a great skillset - never missing his mark. Benjamin Poindexter is the main alias of a villain named Bullseye in the comics, and I don’t think that’s spoiling anything for you since casting rumors and trailers should have done that already. He’s probably Daredevil’s biggest enemy, not Kingpin. So, that’s going to be fun to watch develop.

Matt’s Clothes

Not his vigilante ensemble, which is a callback to him first starting out in season one. His walking around clothes. It looks a lot like how Stick used to dress when he was in New York, huh? Guess Matt is taking cues from his former sensei.

Matt Picking Foggy’s Pocket

Okay, so I realize this is just a means to an end for Matt, but I like to think of it as another connection between Matt and Daisy. Both orphans at St. Agnes (possibly the same one), both steal the ID of someone who meets with them in order to get more info. (In Daisy AKA Skye’s case, it was Mike Peterson in the Agents of SHIELD pilot.)

S3E04 “Blindsided”

District Attorney Foggy Nelson

Foggy was District Attorney of New York City for a while in the comics. He also became Chief of Staff for the mayor for a while too.

The Prison Fight Sequence

Less an Easter egg and more a reminder that Daredevil is known for doing a spectacular single take fight sequence every season. This one, where the cameraman literally just followed Charlie Cox from room to room lasted nearly a crazy 15 minutes. No cuts. That’s impressive.

“We were just being friendly.”

And Karen pulls a gun on some guys up to no good. I feel like she and Jessica Jones need to hang out more. They could just intimidate skeevey guys in alleys for laughs.

Trucks Full Of Chemicals

The FBI agent’s story about her dad hauling chemicals, I think, made a nice nod to the fact that both Matt Murdock and Jessica Jones got their abilities from trucks full of chemicals hitting them in the comics.

Felix Manning

“Felix” has been the name of the person in charge of Vanessa’s location, so I’m going to wager they’re one in the same. He also appears in a whopping two comic books - Daredevil issues 230 and 231. He wanted Melvin Potter, who appeared early in the Netflix series, to make him a duplicate of the Daredevil costume. He was actually killed by a Daredevil imposter. Foreshadowing? We’ll see.

A Taxi To The Water

A version of this happened in “Born Again.” It didn’t get rid of Matt, but it did make him a little more loopy.

S3E05 “The Perfect Game”

Fisk Giving Matt’s Name

There is a story in the comics where Fisk implicates Matt as a vigilante and gets him arrested. The FBI, however, decides not to take the deal with him, and they put Fisk in prison for numerous crimes as well. This clearly isn’t playing out exactly the same way, but, when Matt and Fisk try to break out of prison during a riot, it’s Bullseye who has to save them. I can’t help but wonder if there was a little inspiration there.

Felix Threatens Karen

Again, a little hint of her backstory here. In the comics, she’s also from the New England area. Her father, Paxton Page, who gets namechecked in the threat, actually became a villain named Death’s Head in the comics.

Baseball And Bullseye

Cute that little Dex has a bullseye on his baseball cap in his childhood. Funnily enough, comic book villain Bullseye claims to have attempted to become a major league baseball player, but he got bored pitching a no hitter and threw the ball at the final hitter to kill him in a minor league game. Killing his coach when he pulls him from the game is a bit of a twist on that.

S3E06 “The Devil You Know”

Matt Doesn’t Take Karen’s Coffee

Luke Cage’s “coffee” has ruined he drink for everyone. Karen offering Matt a cup when he comes to her for help, and Matt refusing could be a sign that anything romantic between them is officially over. Or it means nothing. Who knows?

Karen Is Way Too Comfortable In A Drug Den

Karen is around drugs a lot this season. A lot. And it all seems to give a nod to her comic book story, but I feel like we’re inching toward more of her family backstory with just how comfortable she is buying drugs and making her way around other addicts.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll lock me up next to Fisk.”

This did actually happen in the comics, as I’ve mentioned before. It’s a nice nod.

Felix Manning Getting Dex The Suit

Likewise, I also mentioned Felix being the one to get a copy of a Daredevil suit in the comics. Looks like his appearance was some foreshadowing after all.

Dex As Daredevil

Bullseye has actually dressed up as Daredevil in the comics as well. He’s not the only one. So has Foggy.

Karen Between Bullseye And A Victim

If Karen stepping between Dex and the witness gave you pause, it’s probably because you know how she loses her life in the comics. She gets between Bullseye and Matt in a fight, taking a lethal blow to save Matt’s life. This imagery is not going to be fun for Karen fans.

Side note: I’ve never really been a Karen Page fan because the comics put her firmly in the slot of victim. She never really outgrows that no matter who writes for her. But I love her this season. Maybe it’s because we got to see more of Karen being Karen than of trying to fill someone else’s shoes.

S3E07 “Aftermath”

The Hidden Room

Kingpin officially has a supervillain lair. Less of an Easter egg here and more of it being about time.

WJPBTV, WNEX, WHiH, etc

All of the news networks Fisk sees the Bulletin carnage on exist within the MCU already. WJPB is the news station most often seen in Luke Cage. WNEX is the station that aired Trish Talk. WHiH is the one most often seen in the movies. You get the idea.

Melvin Potter

AKA Gladiator in the comics is something of a gentle giant. He kind of fell into a life of crime, which is largely what Daredevil has done with him in the show as well. The shirt he’s wearing when Matt confronts him is a nod to his comic book costume. So are the saw blades. His girlfriend Betsy was, I believe, a social worker in the comics, not a parole officer. (BTW, the comic that features Matt, Fisk, and Bullseye breaking out of prison during a riot? Melvin’s in prison at the same time as well. Matt advises him to stay in his cell so he doesn’t get hurt.)

S3E08 “Upstairs/Downstairs”

Keys

As Karen nears the front door of her apartment, there’s a piece of paper from a legal pad that says “KEYS.” I love that she’s so focused on her work that she has likely forgotten to take her keys with her enough that it warrants a giant reminder.

Fisk’s Plan

His plan, of putting himself in charge of the criminal groups, is essentially what he wanted in season 2 as well when he gave Frank Castle a means to escape prison.

The Maggia

This is the first time the Italian-American version of the mafia has been mentioned in the present day in the MCU. I say present day because it did have its fingers in Agent Carter season two. In the comics, the Maggia gets the ire of quite a few heroes and antiheroes, but most often, the Punisher.

Sister Maggie

Unless you never read anything related to Daredevil at all, you were probably spoiled at some point that Sister Maggie was really Matt’s mom. People started speculating about the reveal being imminent as soon as there was a “get Maggie” at the end of The Defenders. In the comics, the reveal is a little different as Matt already suspected she was his mother before he found out for sure.

Apartment 131

Dex lives in apartment 131. What comic book did Bullseye make his debut in? Daredevil #131.

S3E09 “Revelations”

Kingpin

Wilson Fisk finally officially gets his codename. I like that we’re back to the season one idea of his lackeys not wanting to name him because someone is always watching/listening.

Karen’s Running

In the comics, Karen basically runs whenever things get hard. I’m kind of surprised she stuck things out this long on the show.

Rosalie Carbone

The woman we see Nadeem take in was last spotted in season two of Luke Cage making a play for Harlem. She’s the one with the Maggia connection. The other names we get are Hammond and Star. The only Hammond I know of in Marvel Comics was the original Human Torch. I’ve got nothing for Star, but the other names could have been picked at random. I don’t recognize the other two people at the table either.

S3E10 “Karen”

Karen Selling Drugs

At least this explains why she’s so comfortable in drug dens. I like that this gives us a nod to her comic book tragedy, but here she’s the seller instead of the addict.

Fagan Corners, Vermont

This is where Karen’s from in the comics as well. The name of the fictional town is an homage to Tom Rutland. Rutland organized an annual Halloween parade in Vermont themed around superheroes. He was actually written into Avengers comics in the 1970s.

Penny’s Place

Named for Karen’s mom in the comics, Penelope.

“... two lines away from doing blow jobs on the street for heroin…”

Maybe this isn’t true on the Netflix show, but yes, this happened in the comics.

Bullseye And Daredevil In The Church

Their in-church fight actually happened in the comics when Matt and Karen were hiding a baby in the church. The big difference here is that when Bullseye aimed a fatal blow at Daredevil with his own billy club, Karen got between them and died from her injury. Father Lantom takes the hit for Karen here.

S3E11 “Reunion”

Custos Diaboli

This is inscribed above the gate to get to the basement where Matt and Karen hide out. From the Latin, in translates to Guardian Devil, one of the comic book arcs the series draws from.

KTTA And ZCN

These are two of the networks I could make out on the mics in front of Fisk when he has a press conference outside of the hotel. KTTA is a television station from the comics that frequently reported on the Thunderbolts. ZCN already exists in the Netflix universe. They offered Trish Walker a job in the second season of Jessica Jones.

Nelson & Murdock: Attorneys At Law

Leave it to Foggy to formally name them as they were named in the comics (and the first season of the show).

Side note: I love the Holocaust survivor standing up to Fisk and refusing to give him her family’s painting. It very much reminds me of the scene in The Avengers when Loki demands everyone kneel, but one man reminds the crowd, “there are always men like you,” and refuses. It’s a great reminder that so many comic book creators, during an era when comics flourished, were Jewish, and their relatives were being persecuted and killed half a world away.

S3E12 “One Last Shot”

Vanessa Embracing The Kingpin

Not a lot of Easter eggs in this episode that I noticed, but I thought it was important to point out that in the normal timeline of the comics, Vanessa isn’t a part of Wilson’s criminal undertakings. In alternate timelines though, she’s the Kingpin herself. Her embracing his work and wanting to be a part of it feels like the writers are trying to find some middle ground there.

Side note: Some fans pointed out on twitter that the Morales vs Parker poster in Fogwell’s Gym is a nod to the Spider-Man characters of Marvel Comics. I find that unlikely only because there are plenty of boxers who have shared those names. It’s more likely a coincidence, especially since most of the names in previous seasons were nod to production team members and writers.

S3E13 “A New Napkin”

The Rose

Interesting that Vanessa specifies Fisk should pick the rose. Why? In the comics, Fisk’s son Richard became a vigilante who used the name the Rose. In fact, he wanted to overthrow his father at one point. His mother was the one who killed him. Will Vanessa become the Rose instead? It would be a nice touch.

The Crystals Bounce Off Fisk’s Suit Jacket

In the comics, Fisk actually wears kevlar under his suits to prevent any of his enemies from surprising him with bullets or knives. In the first season, his body armor that he was wearing were designed by Melvin Potter and he wore them under his suits. It seems he might have gotten an upgrade as everything just bounces off of it instead of tearing it, and he gives his jacket to Vanessa to prevent her being hit by anything.

Karen’s More Stable Than Jessica Jones

There are probably a lot of people more stable than Jessica Jones, Matt, jeez. That doesn’t mean she’s not a great detective.

Dex’s Injury And Cognium

In the comics, Bullseye did some time paralyzed. Of course, like all comic book characters, it didn’t last forever. Something else Dex had in the comics? A spine laced with adamantium. Yep, the same stuff on Wolverine’s bones. It’s what made him so indestructible. The MCU probably can’t use it since it’s reserved for the X-Men movies. At least not until everything about the Disney-FOX deal is official.

Dr. Oyama

This doc goes by another name in the comics. Kenji Oyama is Lord Dark Wind. This is the comic book doctor who found a way to make adamantium bond to bone. Wolverine and Bullseye have him to think for their bone structure.

Dex’s Eye

That final shot of Dex’s eye makes what we’ve all been waiting for clear. Dex is definitely officially Bullseye now.

Side note: The milk crates in the freezer with the bodies that have ice all over them? Must have been there for years. I’ve got milk crates used to store product in my freezer at work, and they never build up frost. And our freezer is kept far below zero. Also? I love how much Rosalie Carbone appreciates theatrics. And how Vanessa just wanders around in the background after Fisk repeatedly tells her to leave while there’s a huge fight going on. That’s all.

[deadsoojin]

[ TASK 1: solo investigation ] location: château de brissac || brissac-quincé, france trigger warning: death, murder

soojin chose this particular location because of its convenience in location as she was already going on a business trip to paris, france for her father’s fashion company. it was only about a three hour drive from paris. she thought that there wouldn’t be another chance to visit such a beautiful work of architecture, so she made her decision to go there. being on a solo investigation meant that she was in charge of filming, audio and research which was a bit worrisome since she’s never done it herself. therefore, she was worried about not filming enough quality content, but hoped the group editors would be able to work with what she had.  before arriving at the castle, she had given a call to book a room and asked for permission to film as a content creator during her stay. she was allowed to leave the task if things were to get too overwhelming, but she did not think that would happen. being one of the clairvoyance of the group, she’s seen enough spooks in her life and experienced more than the average.  the castle was built in the 11th century and claimed to have their own resident ghost. they called their ghost, the green lady, who was a woman by the name of charlotte de brézé. charlotte was an illegitimate daughter of king charless vii and his mistress agnes sorel. she was forced in an arranged marriage with jacques de brézé. they were said to be polar opposites and did not love each other. jacques came back after hunting one night, had dinner with charlotte, and went back to his room. the couple did not share a room, probably due to their unloving relationship. in the middle of the night, a servant woke jacques to tell him that his wife was having an affair. jacques caught them red-handed and murdered the two in a rage of fit. charlotte is said to still roam the castle today, while her lover is said to have moved on. soojin took on this task to find charlotte who is said to roam the tower room of the chapel in her green dress; hence the name, the green lady. 

DAY 1: 

soojin arrived at the castle bright and early, checked into her room and rested a bit before she set up her camera and audio. she clipped her microphone near her chest and put everything else into order as she have seen the crew done before. the room was filled with a cozy queen bed with artwork plastered on the walls and decorations that fit the 11th century theme. she turned on the camera as muttered under her breath, “is this on...? i wished i had someone operating the camera for me.” she flipped the camera around to film herself and spoke to the camera in an anxious voice, “well, i guess you all are stuck with me for the next two days.” her visage was in an obvious state of worry, but a smile managed to break through. “so we are at château de brissac, a castle in france. it’s considered the largest one here. they claim to have a resident ghost haunting the place. she’s known as the green lady...” she took a breath before she continued explaining, “the green lady is the ghost of charlotte de brézé who was forced into an arranged marriage. how did she die? in short, she had an affair and was brutally murdered by her husband because she was caught red-handed.” usually soojin was behind the scenes and not in front of the camera, so the fact that she was required to film and carry on a conversation with the viewers was a very odd experience to her.  “so i booked a tour for the afternoon; however, the tour is in english and my understanding of english is not the best, so please be patient with me.” she explained as she filmed herself walking to the meet up place. as the tour began, the brunette tried to catch the words: ‘ghost’ and ‘tower’ because that was her purpose for this trip. soojin simply nodded as the tour guide spoke as a gesture of acknowledgment. they continued to walk around the different rooms in the castle and she remembered during her research that sometimes you were able to catch the dukes of the château and their family. soojin was unable to that day, but she was able to film the inaccessible areas to the general public with the private tour.  at the end of the tour, she and the group were brought to an underground tunnel. as soojin walked down, she was just imagining the endless possibilities of what could have happened down there. it was dark and extremely dimly lit. the only source of light came from the flickering lit torches attached to the walls of the tunnel. “it’s a little dark down here, so i’m not sure if you can see... but we are currently in an underground tunnel. i’m not sure what the purpose of this underground tunnel. it may have possibly been used for mining or for military purposes.” soojin explained behind the camera as her eyes darted around, noticing the spirits that were wandering around. she did not pay much attention to them because her aim was the green lady, but she still reported, “there’s actually some spirits wandering down here. i want to get a closer look at them, but our tour guide is asking us to make our way out.” she was lying. she let out a sigh of relief because the closer she got to them, the more she would be closer to experiencing their death with her ability. sometimes she could not handle how gruesome and devastating it was to see their last moments flash in front of her eyes.  after the tour, she had a late lunch at the castle. she did not forget to film the food and dining area. after staying for a few days in the foreign country, she was really missing korean food. being out here alone reminded her of how alone she really was in life. even if she did have her group of people who she called her friends, in all honesty she never really felt close to them. it was all a facade. afterwards, she strolled around the castle, filming every bit and part of it. the greenery of the winter landscape was amazing. there wasn’t much around besides the few decorations they still had up from christmas and the wine tasting section, but somehow it felt warm and cozy to her. night came and she was ready to embark her adventure. mostly everyone was asleep, but she could still hear some staff cleaning and working. she had already gained permission from the people in charge and began to film from her room to the tower room. she felt a cold chill run down her spine as she left her room, but it was probably due to the window she had left opened. “okay, i am about to walk to the tower room where it is said that the green lady most frequently haunts.” soojin spoke quickly as she walked down the dimly lit hallway. soojin was not exactly scared, but the thought of encountering a foreign ghost was a bit chilling since she did not know what to expect as communication was an issue. she made her way up to the tower room and there was no sight of the green lady. she explored the room for thirty minutes, but there was no sign of the green lady or any ghosts. she filmed around the room once more before letting out a sigh, “unfortunately, it looks like we are not going to see charlotte today. i’m a bit too worn out to continue investigating.” feeling defeated, she closed the camera and went back to her room. soojin tried to get some sleep before her exploration continued the next day.

DAY 2:

early morning came as she was awoken by the moans of a spirit. soojin researched that it was said that many heard the moans of charlotte in the early mornings, but she did not expect to hear it after the defeat last night. she quickly grabbed her camera and put on a sweater before she continued to listen and follow the source. her hand was trembling as she held the camera, not because she was scared, but she had just awoken and was still in her pajamas searching for the ghost. she saw the judging eyes of the other guests and staff as she walked down the hallway, but she was too focused on wanting to find the ghost of charlotte to bother. as she got closer and closer to the source, she found herself breathing faster and harder. she was excited to finally capture some quality content. the clairvoyant took soft and slow footsteps as she made it up into the room where charlotte was brutally murdered. she took one deep breath before walking in. she saw her. it was a quick glance, but soojin saw the alleged green lady who quickly disappeared. she saw the white figure with a green dress. soojin noted that there were holes in place of her eyes and nose, which was probably a representation of what may have been injured when she was murdered by her husband. she walked out of the room, feeling a bit scared due to the unrecognizable facial structure. finally after the sudden appearance of the ghost, she managed to speak out, “i don’t know if you guys were able to see what i saw, but charlotte was right there in front of me. she didn’t exactly have a face... it was actually a little scary. i’ve seen worse, but just something about her did not seem right...” her voice trailed off as she walked back to her room, thinking about what she had just seen.  soojin went back to her room, a little more delighted knowing that she shot some decent footage. she took it easy the rest of the day and filmed inside of the castle for more footage in case there wasn’t enough. the castle itself was not exactly spooky, but after seeing charlotte, she did not feel so well. she was not able to communicate with the spirit and that was what was bothering her. she wanted to help her move on and leave the castle as she had been lingering around for ages. her lover had already moved on, but charlotte was unable to.  night came once again and soojin turned on her camera once again. “it’s my last chance to find charlotte and maybe communicate with her, but i’m afraid i might not be able to.” her voice trembled speaking her true thoughts. she took heavy steps up to the tower room and there she was, charlotte sitting in her green dress as if she was waiting for soojin this whole time. soojin’s heart rate escalated immediately upon seeing charlotte. her breathing became uneven. she was honestly scared, seeing how calm the spirit was. usually they would try to get her attention and demand her to do things since she was able to see them. but, charlotte was undeniably too calm. soojin was unable to speak any further to the camera. maybe charlotte wanted help? soojin took careful steps over to the lady and took one gulp before she looked into the holes that were in place of the eyes of charlotte. with one deep exhale, she moved her right hand carefully over the spirit, closed her eyes, and tried to recapture the last moments and emotions of charlotte before she passed away. soojin didn’t know why but before she knew it, hot tears welled down her cheeks. she opened her eyes and in the blink of an eye, charlotte was gone. the brunette couldn’t stop her tears from falling. her legs gave away and she fell down to the hard, cold floor. forgetting about the filming, she left the camera to the side and just continued to cry until there was nothing left to come out. her heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces, it felt too stuffy. she could not control her emotions as her hands clasped over her heart, her breathing slowly getting more and more inconsistent. instead of seeing charlotte’s last moments, she saw something she didn’t expect to see again. those memories, those ‘fabricated’ memories.