#anything to get a doppelgänger in your pocket | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxckiemxn · 7 months ago

Note

Hi I have an imagine request if you don't mind 🫰🏻

OK so it's gonna be a supernatural / shapeshifter au

-Reader and any member from hyung line are on a holiday- maybe in a forest cabin- or a wooden house in forest

And the Reader starts seeing weird stuffs like

1● seeing the same looking person as her boyfriend

2● feeling as if someone is around 24/7 since you guys reached there(but avoiding the feeling of it)

And add anything else you like to make it a little more spooky 👻

Thank you so much for your request! I honestly had so much fun writing it haha. I hope that you enjoy it, love! ~Mackie 💜

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Warnings: horror themes, swearing, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2,365

@rkive-joonie

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

You giggled as you looked at the pictures you’d taken of your boyfriend as he drove. The first couple were normal, but once he realized what you were doing, he began making the weirdest faces possible. You two had taken the weekend off to go on a trip to a cabin for your anniversary. You were super excited to get some proper alone time with him. You both had such busy schedules that it made vacations like this nearly impossible.

“This is a good one.” You said through a laugh as you added one of the pictures to your favorite's album.

“I probably look crazy.” He joked; eyes still glued to the road.

“You are crazy, baby.” You told him, laughing harder as he rolled his eyes at you. “Hey, how much longer until we get there?” You asked.

“We’re about ten minutes away. I’m going to stop at the gas station really quickly.” He told you as he pulled into the parking lot.

Once parked, he stepped out of the car to start pumping gas. You sat in the car for a moment, admiring the clear view of the mountains before deciding to hop out and take some pictures. You smiled to yourself as you found the perfect angle and began snapping as many photos as you could.

There was a slight gap in between the trees, and you wanted to add it to your collection. So, you moved to the other side of the parking lot to get a better view of it. You began messing with the filters on your phone and aimed the camera towards the trees to see how they’d look. You froze for a moment, swearing that you could see someone walking in between the trees. You began zooming in a bit to see what they were doing. They stopped walking for a moment and stood eerily still as they kept their head facing forward.

“What the fuck?” You said to yourself as you attempted to zoom in more. From what you could see, they seemed to be wearing clothes that were almost identical to Yoongi’s.

You rolled your eyes as a car flew down the road, blocking your line of sight. Once they were gone, you brought your phone back up and zoomed in again. Chills ran down your spine as you realized that the person was now staring directly at you. You quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket and got back into the car.

“You ready?” You jumped as Yoongi’s low voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Y-yeah let’s go.” You said through a shaky voice as you tried to calm your nerves.

“Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He asked you sweetly as he placed a hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m fine. I just saw someone standing in the woods.” You said between deep breaths.

“There may be hiking trails down there. I wouldn’t worry about it. Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone is there now.” He comforted.

“I know, but this person looked so weird. Their movements seemed so robotic in a way. Actually, they kind of looked like you.” You told him, finally meeting his gaze.

“So, you’re telling me that you saw my doppelgänger and he likes hiking?” He lightheartedly joked in an attempt to ease the tension.

“You’re so dumb.” You laughed as you playfully smacked his arm.

“Hey, at least I don’t get freaked out by seeing people exercise.” He joked, raising his hands in defense.

“Shut up-“ you said through a laugh. “Come on, let’s get going.”

You weren’t on the road for long before you finally reached the cabin. It was absolutely gorgeous and although its age showed, it just gave it more character. You sat your bags down on the floor as you admired the interior decor. You smiled as you felt two, strong arms wrap around your waist.

“It’s so peaceful here.” Yoongi whispered, as he placed a few kisses on your neck before burying his head.

“It’s perfect.” You told him, turning around to face him and connecting your lips with his.

“How about we check out the hot tub?” He suggested.

“That sounds amazing.” You said, giving him a gentle kiss before heading upstairs to change.

You placed your bags on the bed and began searching for your swimming suit. You began to remove your clothes, pausing for a bit and looking around the room. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The curtains were open, allowing some sunlight in which made you assume that’s where the feeling came from. You closed them and proceeded to change.

The cabin was completely secluded and surrounded by trees, so it was unlikely that anyone could see you. The nearest cabin was miles away and this isn’t a hiking area. After changing, you made your way back downstairs.

“Baby, could you grab a couple of glasses of wine before you come outside?” You asked Yoongi who was searching for his swim trunks.

“Yeah, I’ll be out there in a minute.” He told you.

As you made your way outside, you smiled at the sound of birds singing. You felt as if this trip would be perfect for you and Yoongi. You didn’t have much trouble in your relationship per se, but things had gotten hard recently. You barely had time to see each other, and when you did, it was often spent sleeping or silently watching movies as both of you were too exhausted to speak. You missed him, even though you still had him.

You slowly crawled into the hot tub, feeling your shoulders relax as you sank into the hot water and allowed your eyes to close. You let out a deep sigh as you felt two hands began massaging your shoulders. You didn’t hear Yoongi come outside so you assumed he wanted to sneak up on you.

“Are you going to get in?” You asked softly, letting out a small laugh when he didn’t respond.

You opened your eyes and turned around once you no longer felt his hands. Your heart sank to your stomach as you looked around, realizing that no one was there. You jumped as you heard the patio door open.

“Sorry I took so long. Namjoon called to make sure we made it.” Yoongi said as he made his way to you, carrying two glasses of wine.

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at him with wide eyes, trying to make sense of what just happened. You began glancing between him and the trees behind you.

“Were you not already out here?” You asked as he crawled into the tub and handed you your glass.

“No.” He stated, although it sounded like more of a question. He looked at you with concern written all over his face as he saw how anxious you were. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…I just-“ you tried to speak but there was nothing you could say without sounding crazy. So, once again, you pushed the uneasy feeling away. “I’m fine. I think I’m just tired from the trip.” You finished.

“Well, come relax then.” He told you with an empathetic look as he extended his arms for you to join.

You rested your back against his chest, closing your eyes once more as he began playing with your hair.

“We should watch a scary movie tonight.” He suggested.

“You hate scary movies.” You laughed.

“Yeah, but you like them.” He stated simply, causing you to smile.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Y/N”

You two remained in the hot tub for a while, loving the way the hot water eased your sore muscles. Once you got out, you both went upstairs to take a shower before heading back down to the living room. You searched through movies on Netflix while Yoongi finished up dinner.

Once he was done, he brought you your food as he settled beside you on the couch, laughing a bit as he saw the title of the movie you picked.

“Cabin in the Woods?” He asked.

“Yeah, it feels fitting.” You responded as you started the movie and began eating.

Yoongi fell asleep towards the end of the movie, head laying on your shoulder as soft snores left his mouth. You smiled as you watched him, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead before gently lifting his head and placing it on the cushions. You got up and went outside through the patio door and lit a cigarette.

You leaned against the railings as you admired how clear the sky looked tonight. You turned your attention to the trees as you heard rustling. The sound caused you to stand up straight and squint your eyes as you tried to get a clearer view. You could’ve sworn that you saw something, but it wasn’t moving anymore.

You jumped as you saw a man peek his head out from behind the trees. It was the same man as before. The one who looked like Yoongi. You dropped your cigarette and ran inside, slamming the door shut and locking it before shutting the curtains.

The sound woke Yoongi up, causing him to run towards you.

“What happened?” He asked, placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you as you were shaking.

“There’s someone out there, Yoongi. You need to call the police.” You said, panicking, as you released yourself from his grip and began searching for your phone.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, following your every move as you ran around searching for the device.

“There’s fucking someone out there, Yoongi. And he fucking looks like you.” You faced him as tears began falling from your eyes.

“Baby, please breathe. You’re scaring me.” He said softly in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m fucking scared, Yoongi. Fuck, it was the same guy I saw before, and he looks exactly like you. All this weird shit has been happening since we got here, and we need to leave.”

“What do you mean? What else has happened.” He asked, voice slightly raised. You didn’t need to fight, not right now. You pinched the bridge of your nose and began taking deep breaths.

“There was the guy in the woods, then I felt like someone was watching me when I was upstairs changing, and then I felt you massaging my shoulders outside only to find out that you’d been on the phone with Namjoon the whole goddamn time, Yoongi.” You told him, slightly screaming towards the end.

He stared at you in disbelief as he tried to make sense of everything you told him. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as if he wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked you in a hushed tone.

“Because I didn’t want you to think that I was crazy. I thought that I was just tired from the trip and that my mind was just playing tricks on me-“

“Y/N-“ he attempted to cut you off, but to no avail.

“You said that there were hiking trails so I brushed it off-“ you continued, hands moving around frantically as you began pacing back and forth.

“Y/N-“

“And I thought that I just felt like I was being watched because the bedroom curtains were open-“

“For fucks sake, Y/N! Listen to me!” He yelled, causing you to pause. Yoongi never yelled at you. No matter how angry or frustrated he was, he never yelled, and it took you by surprise.

“I saw something too.” He told you.

“W-what?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

“When I was on the phone with Namjoon, I looked out of the kitchen window and I thought that I saw you by the car. I didn’t think anything of it and assumed that you were just grabbing something, but I walked towards the patio, and you were already in the hot tub.” He told you with a look of guilt on his face.

“Baby, you should’ve told me.” You said, as you walked over to him and cupped his face gently.

“I know. I just didn’t want to ruin this trip. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered as tears began forming in his eyes.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know.” You comforted, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“We need to call someone.” He reminded, warranting you to pull away, as you nodded in agreement.

You two began walking towards the living room, unsure if either of your phones had managed to slip between the cracks of the couch. You both paused and looked at each other as you heard a knock on the front door. You opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly stopped by Yoongi as he put a finger to his lips, shushing you.

You both tiptoed to the door, careful not to make any sounds as you looked through the peephole. Your blood ran cold as you saw them. Two people who looked identical to both you and Yoongi. You wanted to back away. You wanted to stop looking, but you couldn’t. They knew you were in there and unbeknownst to you, they knew that you were looking right at them.

They both smiled eerily as they stared directly at the peephole with no sign of life visible within their eyes. Their faces began to warp and their limbs began contorting, and soon enough they no longer resembled you or Yoongi.

You backed away from the peephole, eyes wide and full of tears as you looked at Yoongi. You opened your mouth to speak, but came to a halt as they began banging on the door again, slightly knocking you back in the process. This time much louder and forceful. Yoongi pulled you behind him and began backing up. With each bang, the door pushed inward.

You frantically looked up at your boyfriend who was also crying but doing his best to maintain composure for you. His eyes met yours for a moment, and once they did, the loud thud of the door hitting the wooden floor echoed throughout the house. You both looked up, and within a second screams began filling the walls.

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#bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts au #yoongi x reader #bts horror au #bts supernatural au #yoongi au #yoongi imagine

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daturas-are-pretty · 2 years ago

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BSD Fake Quotes

Chuuya: How'd you get in here?

Dazai: Oh, it was easy. I just seduced an old lady upstairs, came down the fire escape, jimmied the window open...

Chuuya:

Chuuya: You could've just

Chuuya: called me.

Dazai: I didn't kill the lady upstairs, if that's what you're worried about.

Chuuya: I wasn't. But now I am.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: Ugh, I should've known we'd lose Chuuya. He's so pocket-sized, he could be hidden anywhere!

~~~~~~~~~~

[Everyone decked out in Kunikida's clothes to act as doppelgängers for a case specifically targeting him, unbeknownst to Kunikida.]

[It was Dazai's idea.]

Dazai: Anyone else feeling the urge to lecture themselves? (Mimicking Kunikida) "Dazai, what the hell are you doing"?

Kunikida, from behind him: Dazai, what the hell are you doing?

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: [After giving Atsushi advice] You can power through this because you are the strongest person I know.

… Wow, that was weird, I just said a bunch of real things consecutively. [Turns to Kunikida] Are you proud of me?

Kunikida: You're ruining it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: How'd you manage to steal the case file from government police?

Dazai: Easy. The sergeant manning the desk by the files was a lady, so I just turned up some of that old Dazai charm ~

[What actually happened:]

Dazai swaggering into the file room: Hey there. (In a low seductive voice) Some dude yarfed in the men's restroom. Could you please find somebody to, uh, clean that up?

The sergeant lady: Ugh. (Gets up from her desk)

Dazai: There was no yarf.

Kunikida: Yeah, I figured.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: All our contacts are dead. This case is 11 years old, I doubt anyone remembers anything. Maybe we should -

Atsushi: Climb out onto that ledge to see how the perp got in?

Kunikida: I was going to say give up.

Atsushi: I think we should give it a go! Who knows? We might uncover new leads!

Kunikida: Atsushi, we're ten stories up.

Atsushi: Kunikida-san, I'm not afraid of heights. I'm scared of bees, I'm scared of snakes, I'm scared of being locked in a supply closet for long enough that I start seeing eyes manifest in their dark corners, but I'm not scared of heights!

[Two minutes later out on the ledge]

Atsushi: WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'REGONNADIEWE'REGONNADIEWE'RE -

~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida: Why are you of all people so hellbent on solving a case that nobody's even bothering to solve? It's been dead for years.

Dazai, for once fixated on his computer and surrounded by milk cartons and half-eaten bananas with their peels still on: Kunikida-kun, I am way too sleep-deprived to deal with your negativity right now.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai: I stayed up all night going through the crimes that happened from 1996 up till now to look for a pattern. That led me to this.

(Chair-wheelies his way to a board with a map of Yokohama studded with push pins, all random colors)

My conclusion? There is a lot of crime in Yokohama. No-one should live here.

#incorrect bungou stray dogs quotes #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd kunikida #bsd atsushi #source: brooklyn 99 #source: b99 #I got into the show recently #I'm seeing dynamic parallels everywhere and the world is going to suffer for it #quotes are slightly tweaked

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stars-and-darkness · 1 year ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY!!!

week #5

since posting a snippet of the amnesia au last week, i have doubled the word count on that fic, mostly due to the intense regime of bullying from my beloved friends who want to read it, so in celebration of that, here's another:

“So,” Rebekah says, sauntering into Caroline’s space with a smile on her face that betrays her anxiety to those who know her well enough, “I may have fucked up.” “You’re admitting to having fucked up?” Kol asks, raising his eyes from a grimoire. “Sound the alarms; she’s been replaced by a pod person.” “Letting you read that book was a mistake,” Rebekah growls. “I don’t disagree,” Caroline sighs. She rubs at her temples. Vampires are unable to get migraines, and yet … “What happened?” “Right,” Rebekah says. “So, I was talking to Nik, and—” “Did he not want to hear about your exploits with that red-headed broad? Because if so, I can—” Rebekah smiles sweetly. Too sweetly. “Shut up, Kol, or I’ll drive your aluminium bat up your a—” “Bekah!” Caroline waves her arms about like a lunatic. “You were saying?” She sighs. “Right. Anyway, we got to the topic of the doppelgänger, and I was trying to explain how she was turned into a vampire—” “You mean, when you ran her off the bridge—” “—but in order to do that, I had to explain about Mother’s little Enhanced Original pet—” “—horrible man, daggered me and ruined my chances with the sexy, older doctor? I’ll never forgive—” “—but I never actually got to the dull history teacher, because I—” “Guys, guys, guys!” Caroline interrupts them both, rubbing rhythmic circles into her temples. “Kol—wait your turn. Rebekah—please?” “Well, I happened to mention that we, er, know he was the one who killed Mother.” “The plot is thickening!” Kol shrieks, too delighted by this development, while Caroline’s shoulders slump. “That’s … great. Great. Fuck.” “Well, he ran away before I could say anything else!” Rebekah protests. “And the bloody wanker is faster than me!” Kol snorts. “Ah. Well. Fortunately, darling Caroline can use her womanly charms to persuade him to—” Caroline smacks the back of his head. “Worth it,” he snickers. “He likes to hang out on the roof when he’s upset.” Her head falls into her hands. “Right. I’ll just—” Blindly, she makes her way out of the room. She tries to listen for him, but comes up with nothing. With no better plan than Kol’s suggestion, she tries the roof. He’s not there. “Just great,” she mutters to herself, descending down the stairs. “What is so great?” Elijah, who appeared out of nowhere as he is wont to do, asks. After glaring at him appropriately for startling her, she sighs. “Actually, you could be useful. Do you hear Klaus anywhere? Your hearing is better than mine. Apparently, Bekah let it slip that we all know what happened to Esther, and, well …” He frowns, but cocks his head. “I can’t. But he knows how to be quiet.” He considers for a moment, then pulls his phone out of his inner pocket. “I have a reason to suspect he stole his phone back.” The corner of his lip curves into a fond smile. “Maybe …” Klaus, old man that he is, actually has his ringtone on. You know, like a lunatic. She hears it sound off downstairs, and then both she and Elijah are running towards the library. There’s nothing there, except a phone, and bloody stain on the carpet. “Well,” Elijah says, casting his eyes towards the city skyline. “I think it’s safe to say that’s not good.”

#klaroline wip wed #ella writes #ella originals #tvd #klaroline

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koreoftheearths · 26 days ago

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Grocery Shopping

I didn’t proofread this.

The fridge light turned on, revealing to Kenji a variety of grapes (courtesy of Cassandra), a barely full carton of milk, and enough condiments to have their own section at a farmers market. It was definitely time to go shopping again. Last time, they waited too long and every takeout place in the area started saving their number. All of the college attending members even began swiping their meal cards for other members of the group. Personally, Kenji’s favorite was the old lady at the burger grill. If he smiled and tilted his head just a little, she gave him extra fries.

“Yo Kenj, making dinner tonight?” The kitchen door slammed behind Cassandra, making noise together with the beads in her hair. A pack of grape-flavored candy hung from her jacket pocket. Honestly her entire personality was grapes. She even smelled like grapes. Or at least artificial grape flavor. Kenji took a small step to the side, showing her the embarrassingly empty fridge. “Never mind. I forgot we’re poor,” she said. Kenji rolled his eyes before closing the fridge.

"We're not poor," he said. "We've just been too busy saving the town to go to the store." He reached into the keys bowl to find his own key, and quickly patted down his pocket to make sure his wallet was there. "I'll send a message in the group chat. Picking up everything except personal snacks. Between the seven of us, snacks cost more than most people's entire shopping list.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes and took a seat at the island. "Your girlfriend buys seven different brands of fruit snacks, but sure my addiction to grape gum is what's using up our money.”

“I already told you and your evil doppelgänger that me and Belle aren’t dating,” Kenji began typing out the message, hoping the group would respond faster than last time. “We’re just us right now.” The response received a raised eyebrow.

“Probably shouldn’t argue with the girl that can see into the future. I’m tryna help you out. By the way, don’t get her food from the new Chinese place. Throwing up together from food poisoning isn’t as hot as it sounds.” Kenji ignored her and sent the message. “You should cook tonight. I bet that would really turn her on.”

Before Kenji could even question why she was here instead of at her own place, he received a text reply. Then another. Soon, he was putting his phone on do not disturb because Luca loved to send several small messages instead of one list. He was pretty sure he got that habit from texting Juniper. For a girl who hated reading, she made sure everyone else did their fair share of it when it came to texting her.

Maybe he could just wait until he got to the store and make a quick list from the messages. Honestly he could’ve just made his own list and made a trip to the store. It’s not like anyone other than him really cooked anything. Arabella bakes sometimes but not enough to buy anything based on that. Honestly she cried so much the last time she tried to make macaroons that Kenji was sure she wouldn’t bake anything for a couple of months.

“Your girl just messaged me. She wants to know if you plan on cooking tonight or if it’s just a regular grocery trip.” Kenji shrugged before making his way to the door. He honestly wasn’t planning on cooking but if Arabella came over he could butter her up for another road trip. Last time they ended up at a weird gas station with a eight-fingered cashier that flirted with Arabella through the car window. He checked the group chat one last time. Enough people responded that his wallet suddenly began feeling heavy.

Grocery shopping had to be Kenji’s least favorite thing to do for the group. The others decided since he wasn’t getting their snacks, they would find someone who would. And that someone ended up being Arabella, who was currently grabbing three family sized boxes of her favorite fruit snacks. Honestly probably the worst person to be shopping for the group. She constantly tried to give the most of whatever she was asked for. The first time they met, Kenji thought she was an ass. In his defense, she was screaming at him for not properly separating his trash and recyclables and how he was killing the earth. He would never tell her that though. Despite her constantly telling him how much of a pain in her ass he was on a daily basis.

“Hey Kenj,” Arabella tossed the boxes into the cart before continuing. “We should have a movie night. You know, grab some popcorn, make some ice cream sundaes, and sing along to some Disney movies. Or I could sing. Last time you sang in the shower, the water turned off.”

“I already told you Luca turned off the water trying to be funny.”

“If you say so but if I was the water I would be turned off too. No amount of tattoos can save that. I mean your hair is nice and you smell good sometimes so that’s a plus. But something about your personality and addiction to rice krispie treats gives off definitely don’t date vibes. But your height gives you a slight bonus so that’s-.” A hand covered her mouth and glanced up to an annoyed look on Kenji’s face. According to him, the only other people to get that look was his older sister and Luca. Which wasn’t a fair comparison in her opinion because Luca made it his life’s mission to annoy Kenji.

“Please stop talking. I promise I’ll watch any movie you want tonight if you just stop.” Arabella nodded before turning back towards the popcorn selection in front of her. She knew Kenji didn’t do well with too much talking but someone had to carry the conversations every once in a while. The last time she tried to let him take the lead in communicating, they didn’t talk for three days. Sure they hung out but it was just silence. She thought it was absolute torture while he thought they were finally bonding and was pretty content. Until Cassandra told him to stop “fucking up the future” and to go talk to her.

She finally decided to get the caramel flavor. Not her favorite but it was the only one Kenji would eat and she usually stuck to eating the candy anyway. The two moved to the next aisle and Arabella wondered if the group was going to come over or if they could do that movie night tonight. Tonight would definitely have Anastasia. She was pretty sure he had never seen it and was definitely betting that he would cry at least once. Which was a huge bonus. Not that she liked seeing him cry, but he was always so serious that it was nice to remember he was actually human.

“I think that’s it. Unless you want something specific for our night.” Arabella said. She was really hoping that was a big enough hint to throw at him. Sometimes he was oblivious and a complete dumbass. And sometimes he just wanted her to say exactly what she wanted. Both were annoying to her but the latter was just plain embarrassing. Mostly because Kenji was a huge flirt and she didn’t know if he was being serious. She could just ask but overthinking constantly got the best of her. Cassandra could look into the future and see what happens but she refused to tell her. She’s pretty sure the girl looked into the future multiple times just to be spiteful.

“Nope. Unless you mean actual food. You know, the thing I’ve been trying to get the past four hours while you dragged me around this store.” Arabella glared at him.

“I wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t so stingy when it came to buying snacks.”

Kenji gestured to the cart that was pretty close to being overfilled. Despite his so-called stinginess, he didn’t protest anytime Arabella added the group’s snacks. And he was still willing to pay with only slight complaints.

“I’m not stingy, I just think we should be a little bit smarter about buying snacks we don’t really need.”

Arabella did a quick glance towards her fruit snacks before looking back at the boy in front of her with squinted eyes.

“Are you talking about my fruit snacks? Cause there’s no complaints when I share with you.”

“The only time you share is if I’m cooking. And you pick the ones you don’t really like to give me.”

“But I share them! That’s more than I can say about you.”

Kenji rolled his eyes as they approached the register.

“You don’t even like rice krispie treats.”

“Who the fuck doesn’t like rice krispie treats?” Arabella deadpanned. She began moving stuff from the cart, making sure to leave the heavier things for Kenji. Could she lift them just as easily? Probably, but this way is slightly more annoying towards Kenji. Who seemed to ignore the fact she was trying to annoy him and just reached for the items she left behind. He shrugged at the previous question and swiped his card.

The trip back to the car was pretty quiet, with Arabella occasionally muttering to herself about something she forgot to buy. Normally she would go back but she was starting to get hungry herself. She wouldn’t say anything out loud. But she would make a quick walk to the Chinese restaurant they were parked near. Maybe even get Kenji something. Without a word, she walked towards the restaurant hoping her friend would wait for her.

#my writing #my ocs #oneshot

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hellsaint7w7 · 2 months ago

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(4) Witchcraft

••Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!••

Full disclosure, I have only ever watched the OG anime (English dub because I legitimately can't find the Japanese version no matter what platform I check), and I haven't seen/read anything else. So if I have characters wrong because they act differently in the manga or movies or other series, I am sorry.

Potential Trigger Warnings:

Ritualistic sacrifice, descriptions of injury and death, and psychological horror.

—————

Third Person POV

Bakura sat on the bench as he usually did, reading his book. The weight of the Millennium Ring hung around his neck, he didn't bother hiding it despite the fact someone might want to steal it. All his attention was focused on the book in his hands.

He didn't like sports very much and he had no friends. Some people around him were playing Duel Monsters and don't get it wrong, Bakura also loved Duel Monsters and spent hours and hours researching it, but he had 3 cards to his name and no one to play with anyway. Bakura stuck to himself, he always did.

"Hey, I saw a symbol like that before!" Shouted someone, sitting next to Bakura. The teenager was so shocked to be talked to that he didn't register what the blonde said. And when he did, he had to think hard to realize what he meant. "Your necklace! My friend has a cool necklace just like it. But different, more triangular and bulkier."

Bakura took a moment to mentally reset. How long had it been since he last said a single word? "O-Oh, yes. My father bought it for me."

"Oh, you do talk! People say you're mute." The other teenager said. "I am Joey."

"I am Ryo Bakura." He said, shaking the blonde's hand.

"What are you reading?"

Instead of answering, he closed the book and turned it for Joey to see the cover. It was a book about the origins of monster legends. Specifically, it was about ghosts and Doppelgängers.

"Jeez, isn't that scary? And it's kinda weird to be reading at school." Joey said.

"Are you scared of ghosts, Joey?" Bakura asked playfully. Immediately, Joey's attitude changed.

"What? No! No, of course not. Not at all. It's just a silly book anyway." Joey said. He stared at the book's cover once again. "What's a... Doppelgänger?"

"It's German for double walker or double ghost, and it's said that everyone has a Doppelgänger in the world; someone unrelated to you that looks similar if not identical." Bakura said. Joey nodded, listening intently. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff, he never had that before. "However it's said that if you see your Doppelgänger, your life is marked."

The look on Joey's face was priceless. Bakura had been researching this stuff so much that he became numb to it, but this was amazing. He liked talking about things that interested him, even if his throat hurt from talking so much.

"And... Is that real? Like... uh..."

"Who knows?" Bakura said mischievously.

"What else do you got in that spooky book of yours?" Joey asked.

When the bell finally rang after several minutes, Bakura's voice was gone. He'd spoken more in that one conversation than he did in the entire last two months. But Joey was fun and listened to him ramble.

"Which class are you going to next?" Joey asked as Bakura put away his book.

"Uh... E1. Japanese history." Bakura said.

"E1?! I had that teacher last year and she sucks!" Joey said. "I turned in a paper the next day after it was due and she threw it in the trash can! And then she took 4 months just to grade our tests."

"Yeah, I am not the biggest fan of hers either, but I have a good grade in that class so I can't complain." Bakura said.

"Yeah, well- Ah!" Joey moved to put his hand in his pocket, but then his Duel Monster's cards fell out and all over the hallway. "Oops!"

Bakura and Joey quickly bent down to collect all the cards. He picked up one off the floor and looked at it before adding it to the group he'd already picked up. "Alligator Sword? That's a nice card. Pretty good attack and defense."

"Do you like Duel Monsters too?" Joey asked, eyes metaphorically glowing.

"Yeah, I do. I haven't played before because I don't have a lot of cards, but I read a lot about it. I've also seen most Duel Monsters competitions if they were uploaded to the internet."

"So you're a Duel Monsters nerd too? You'd be great friends with this buddy of mine, Yugi. Have you met him?"

"No, I think I have heard his name before... we might share some classes." Bakura said.

"Next time I see you, I'll introduce the two of you. Anyways, we need to hurry to class."

Bakura nodded and they parted ways. He didn't end up seeing Joey for the rest of the day. After Japanese history, he had one more class before the day ended.

When Bakura got home, it was deafeningly silent. With a sigh, he dropped his backpack on the couch and took out his homework. He needed to do his homework first before he did literally anything else. If he even thought about doing something else first, like getting something to eat or taking a shower, he'd completely forget about his homework. So that's what he did.

He finished his homework and took a shower before sitting on his bed to read. Hours ticked by in silence. Only Bakura's breathing and the flipping of pages filled the space. Usually the quiet didn't bother him as much, but after today he felt suffocatingly alone. Which he was of course. His father was almost always gone, he left for days at a time and was only home to shower and sleep before leaving again. It started when Bakura was about 7 years old and got worse the older he got.

When he couldn't take the quiet anymore, he turned on the tv for background noise and started making dinner. Even that wasn't enough to take away the loneliness, but at least he was distracted. The bright side was that he went to bed excited to go to school tomorrow.

Bakura woke up in the dead of night, and he had no idea where he was. There were trees all around him and he was soaked to the bone. It was raining! Why was he out here?

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on the couch. Being in the middle of the woods was completely impossible! You'd be walking for a good 3 or 4 hours just to get out of the city or else you'd need to drive here. Bakura didn't remember even leaving the house! This had to be some weird dream.

A stick cracked and Bakura snapped his head around to see what made it. It was dark. Rain poured all around, mud and drowned grass clung to his shoes. Not even the starlight could touch the forest floor, just intense darkness that seemed to swallow him whole.

"Hello?" Bakura said quietly. He didn't really want a response, but if it was an animal then his voice would scare it away.

The rain continued to hit the ground and the trees, a constant flow of noise without disruption. Bakura's eyes were locked on the dark bushes, trying to make out shapes. His mind started to play tricks on him, but anything he thought he saw was gone when he blinked.

And then he heard something behind him. Bakura turned around as quickly as he could and suddenly felt his breath robbed from him. Ice filled his veins even as red hot tears bloomed in his eyes. Standing in the dark was him.

A Doppelgänger.

Bakura ran as fast as he could. The cold stung his eyes as he ran and he kept getting caught on branches and twigs. Breath was pulled from his lungs in a constant stream and he couldn't seem to get it back. No matter how hard he tried to suck in oxygen, he never seemed to have enough.

Water and mud splashed his pants, he must look like a mess. All around were noises, so many noises. The forest suddenly seemed alive, as though the trees wanted to ensnare him.

His arm caught on a branch and he felt his skin tear. A startled cry left his mouth as he stumbled to the ground. Mud soaked his clothes, it splashed his already icy cold face.

Bakura scrambled onto his back and turned around to see if he was still being followed. His breath came in heavy waves, the darkness was thicker than fog. Thicker than blood. All he could do was stare, he couldn't even blink.

And suddenly, a golden glow blinded him. His necklace was floating in midair and glowing, burning his eyes with the sudden light and faintly illuminating the Doppelgänger behind the ring. Bakura made a pathetic noise, but he couldn't move. The only warmth he felt was blood dripping down his arm and pain pulsing through him with each beat of his heart.

"Don't you know, Landlord?" The voice asked. His voice. A slivery smile emerged from the darkness, plastered on his own face and bathed in golden light. "You can't run from yourself."

Bakura gasped, sitting up quickly. He glanced around with wild eyes and saw that he was back in his living room. Some horror movie was playing on the tv at a low volume.

Slowly, he calmed down. That had to be a dream, an absolutely crazy dream. Maybe he should stop reading about scary things.

The nightmare felt so real though. Bakura got up from the couch and went to wash his face. The details were beginning to fade as cool water hit his skin. And so, he decided to get dressed and ready for school.

He changed from his home clothes to his school uniform, looking outside the window to see that it was later than he normally woke up. Maybe his alarm didn't go off. That's not too uncommon, he'd knocked his alarm off the nightstand enough times that if the cheap alarm started malfunctioning it wouldn't be surprising.

But then Bakura looked at the Millennium Ring sitting on the counter. A sudden shiver of fear ran down his spine as he remembered the nightmare. It was ridiculous to be scared of a piece of jewelry! Reminding himself that it was just a dream, he grabbed it and put it on. This time, he hid it under his shirt.

Now that he was ready for the day, skipping breakfast because he usually did anyway, he left for school. He walked a little faster so that he wouldn't be late. But for some reason, perfect attendance wasn't the biggest thing on his mind.

Today when he saw Joey again, the blonde introduced Bakura to his friends. He'd seen them all before, but never spoke with them. Bakura was more than anxious to meet them, but the fear faded quickly. They were all so nice and fun to hang out with.

He watched Yugi and Anzu play Duel Monsters together. Occasionally, his eyes drifted to the Millennium Puzzle that Yugi had around his neck, he'd never seen another Millennium item before. Bakura idly wondered how many of these weird items there were in the world as he watched the two play.

"I don't think I can win with the cards I have." Anzu sighed. She played a card face down. "That's all I have."

"I'll play Dark Magician," Yugi started, placing the card on the desk. "And then I'll attack your Fairy Dragon with dark magic attack."

"My face down card is the trap Waboku which prevents me from having my monsters destroyed this turn." Anzu said, flipping her card over to show the art on it.

From where Bakura was sitting, he could see Anzu's cards. She truly didn't have any card that could protect her. Most of them were monster cards that weren't strong enough to take out the dark magician and she was quickly running out of cards to play. So it wasn't crazy when Yugi won on his next turn.

"Good game." Yugi said.

"Yeah, I tried." Anzu laughed.

"Hey, Bakura, do you play Duel Monsters?" Yugi asked. Bakura hadn't expected to be talked to and was caught off guard. Only for Joey to step in.

"He's a big Duel Monster's nerd! I am sure he can play well!" Joey said.

"I appreciate that, Joey, but I don't have many cards." Bakura said. "I think I have three or four cards and I left them at home."

"Oh, my Grandpa owns a game store where he sells Duel Monsters cards." Yugi said. "You can always come by and buy some!"

"Really? I'd like that. I love Duel Monsters." Bakura said.

"You could come with us after school." Honda said. "We were heading there anyway."

"Oh... I'd love to, but I don't have the money for it right now." Bakura said. The only money he had came from his father whenever he'd occasionally stop by. His father hadn't been home in 3 months and his money was running dangerously low. "I could go with you guys, but I can't buy anything."

"Alright, that's fine. We can just hang out." Yugi said kindly. He was a very nice guy. Bakura was grateful to be invited, he liked having friends. It was something he wasn't used to.

Bakura couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. He had a great time with the group at the game store, he even had dinner with them even though he felt bad he couldn't pay for himself. Yugi's Grandpa even gave him a free card. He went home very happy that night.

When he laid down, homework completely forgotten, he was ready to sleep. Until pain started radiating from his arm. He sat up, completely confused, and pulled up his shirt sleeve.

There was a cut on his arm. It wasn't bone deep or anything, but it stung. Fear ran through him.

It wasn't possible. He didn't remember getting cut all day long. But last night...

Bakura shook his head and laid down, squeezing his eyes closed. He couldn't believe that was real. He didn't WANT to believe it. Maybe he'd deal with it tomorrow. Or maybe not.

It took a while to get to sleep. When he did he had no dreams, not really. There were vague images of Yugi's puzzle floating through his mind, but they left soon after. And when he woke up, he was even more tired than before he went to sleep. But his alarm was going off, so it was time to go to school.

He got ready for school in a daze. Bakura was so tired that he wasn't thinking straight. Terror plagued his thoughts. There were only a few answers to explain what was happening to him and the most logical answer was that he was going crazy. It was the only thing that made logical sense, but if this wasn't something logical than it was somehow even worse.

Bakura tried hard to distract himself, and for a while it worked. Days past without anything else happening. He threw himself into studying even harder, whether it was for school or the occult. He checked out a lot more books from the public library, Bakura wrote down things that didn't make sense so he could research it later, he also wrote down things that may pertain to what he experienced. And for a while, things seemed normal again. Sure, sometimes he'd wake up on the couch when he fell asleep in bed (or vice versa) and sometimes things in his house would move around for no reason (like when he lost his backpack for a week but found it stuffed under his bed) but he could always dismiss that as sleep walking or forgetfulness.

But one day, he woke up feeling so miserable that he regretted waking up. Bakura fell off the couch and slowly got up. His legs hurt, his knee felt scraped, but his face felt worse.

He walked to his bathroom, his vision blurred, and looked into the mirror. The entire left half of his face was bruised. It looked like Bakura had been hit in the face by something heavy. His eye was bloodshot, he was starved and his mouth was dry. It felt like he hadn't eaten, drank, or slept in months on top of being beaten. What the hell happened to him?

Bakura didn't think he could go to school, which is why he was glad that today was Sunday. He dragged himself back to the couch and debated getting something to eat. He was starving, but that meant having to get up and cook which he didn't feel well enough to do. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of the couch. Good half of his face pressed against the soft-ish fabric, it was hard to not sleep.

A few minutes later, he woke up with a jolt and looked around wildly. Whatever woke him up stopped. Maybe a loud car?

With a sigh, he turned on the tv. It was on some news station. "That's all the updates I have on the ongoing situation here. Back to you in the studio for the weather." The anchor said.

"Thanks Cameron. Today, we have rain advisory from today all the way to Friday." She said. Bakura idly looked at the screen, but then fear hit him. The screen showed that today was Monday.

Bakura sat up. How was that possible?! Yesterday was Saturday! How did he somehow skip an entire day? Maybe this head trauma caused him to forget what happened yesterday?

Oh god, who was he kidding? This was bad and denying it was only making things worse. His eyes filled with helpless tears.

Miserably, he got up from the couch and got ready to go to school. He was already late, so he didn't rush, but he didn't know what else to do. He nearly laughed at how ridiculous it seemed to go to school after all this, but he didn't know what else to do.

He got stared at when he went to school, but no one said anything. That is until Joey came up to him as he was reading in the hallway. And by 'reading' I mean staring at the page because he was too distracted to process the words.

"Hey, Bakura!" Joey said. Concern flashed in his eyes when he saw the bruise on Bakura's face.

"Oh, hey, Joey." Bakura said.

"What happened to your face? That looks painful." Joey said. Bakura couldn't talk for a moment before he closed his book.

"I don't know." He said honestly.

"You don't know?" Joey asked. Bakura shook his head. It was the truth, a truth he didn't want to accept. Joey looked a little uncomfortable, but he sat down on the floor with Bakura. "Uh... You know you can tell me if something happened. I may not look like it, but no one keeps a secret better than Joey Wheeler."

Bakura felt confused for a moment. He'd never heard Joey speak so sweetly. It was nice, Bakura needed someone to be nice to him today. But it was very confusing. And suddenly it hit him. Did Joey think this was a domestic issue?

"That's very sweet of you, Joey, and I appreciate it very much. But I don't think you and me are on the same page." Bakura said. Now Joey looked confused. Could you blame him? What could Bakura even tell Joey? He didn't know what was going on. And if told Joey about all this craziness, would the other believe him? Maybe he'd think Bakura is losing it (which he might be) and leave him alone again. Bakura didn't want to be alone again. "There are periods where my memory blacks out and I don't remember anything. Yesterday it-... yeah. I wish I could tell you more, but it's not what you're thinking."

He didn't want to look at Joey. That was such a non-answer, avoiding the question. But for the most part, it was true, he was just leaving out a few details. Still, he stared at the ground so that he didn't have to see Joey's expression.

"Well... that's alright. How about we go to the nurses office and get you an ice pack or something?" Joey suggested.

Bakura was a little surprised. Joey wasn't prying for answers and instead was offering a good idea for the pain. He couldn't help but smile and nod.

There had to be some explanation. Bakura thought about it as he walked home. If he was going crazy, he might as well go completely crazy. Maybe confronting 'it' was the best option.

Bakura was good at ignoring things. He could pretend everything was fine startlingly well. He could pretend his dad cared about him, he could pretend like he wasn't haunted by memories of a family that no longer existed in this world, and if he pretended hard enough he could almost imagine his family at home waiting for him. Confronting things wasn't what he did. He never asked why his dad was always gone, he didn't ask why his world had been so cruel, he just pretended it wasn't. And maybe if he kept pretending, these weird blackouts and strange dreams would become normal too.

But he didn't want that. He didn't want any of this to become 'normal'.

He closed the door to his empty apartment and dropped his backpack on the couch. Bakura looks around, but he doesn't know what he expected to see. Awkwardly and more than a little nervous, he cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Whatever is going on, spirit or Doppelgänger, just talk to me. What do you want?" He asked out loud. He pulled the Millennium Ring out from where it was hidden and stared into the eye. "I don't know what's going on, but maybe we could help each other? There must be a reason why you're doing this."

Silence. Cars, wind, and then...

"Did you figure that out on your own, or did someone tell you?" Said a sarcastic voice. His own voice. Bakura looked over and saw someone who looked like him, the Doppelgänger from his dream. His Doppelgänger had darker skin and different eyes, plus the scar over his eye, but other than that he looked like Bakura.

"Who are you?" Bakura asked.

"My name is Bakura."

"Well, that doesn't really help our situation."

The Doppelgänger blinked in surprise before he laughed. "You actually have a sense of humor? That's surprising." He said.

"Just call me Ryo, and I'll call you Bakura." Ryo said. The Doppelgänger nodded and leaned against the wall. This was all so strange. "What is it that you want?"

"I don't remember much of my past, my memories are slow to return, but I do remember that I need to acquire the 7 Millennium items. Like the one around your neck that I currently possess." Bakura said.

"Like the one Yugi has?"

"Yes. But I can't just steal them, I need to win them in a duel." Bakura said. "And I don't care whether you help me or not, but I need to get those items back where they belong."

Ryo stared at the Doppelgänger for a moment. He wanted some jewelry back? By the sounds of it, they were once his anyway. If that was all, he had no issue helping out.

"As long as no one is hurt, I'll help you out." Ryo said. Bakura smiled and nodded. "That includes me. I don't want to keep waking up with bruises."

"That was an accident." The spirit said. "I wouldn't intentionally injure our body."

'Our body'. That phrase sent a creeping chill of wrongness down Ryo's spine. Of course it made sense that they shared a body now, but it just felt wrong.

"Look, I am not happy about this either." Bakura said. Ryo blinked. Did he say that out loud? "I would prefer to have my own body too, but we need to compromise."

"Can you read my mind or something?"

"No, but your dopey face tells me all I need to know. You look like a frightened rabbit."

Ryo quickly wiped the emotions from his face, feeling more than a little embarrassed. No one has ever told him how easily readable his facial expressions were. Was that true or was the spirit just very good at social queues?

"Listen, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. The second I get the Millennium items, I'll have the power that I deserve and you'll have your body back." His demeanor suddenly changed to be much more serious. There was an anger in his eyes that terrified Ryo.

"Alright, fine. We have a deal then. No one gets hurt, and everyone gets what they want." Ryo said, his body was completely stiff as if the spirit might attack him at any moment.

"Then we have a deal."

With every day that passed, Bakura gained more of his memories and with it came his lust for revenge. When he was first awoken, all he knew was Ryo. The child was the barer of his ring in which his soul existed. He knew the child's name, he knew he wanted to get something back, and he knew that he died some 5,000 years ago.

After that, memories started to come back. Through Ryo's books he saw stone buildings and tablets that awoke something deep inside. The place was called Egypt and he was born there.

Soon, when he and Ryo were at the graveyard for Mother's Day, another memory unlocked. He remembered his own mother and his father, and most of all his baby sister.

Even standing in a field of death, Bakura felt peace as he relived those memories. He closed his eyes and could almost smell home. It was like he could feel the stone under his feet.

"Remember to be careful of her head, Bakura." His mother said. Bakura could feel the weight of his sister in his arms. "That's it. She'll grow up looking up to you, you need to be a good big brother and protect her."

He remembered what his home looked like, how it smelled, and the people in his home. And for a moment he felt more content and sure of himself than he ever did. And then of course confusion set in. Why did he feel such a strong pull to revenge when he had everything he could ever want right here with him? (In the past of course)

After that day, the nightmares started. Bakura couldn't sleep anymore because anytime he closed his eyes or let his mind wander, all he could hear were screams. The smell of blood was so strong that it made him gag.

"No, please! Not my daughter, please, she has done nothing wrong!" His mother cried. Bakura couldn't move but tears fell from his eyes as he watched from inside of the chest he hid in.

"Let go of the child!" The soldier shouted. He stomped on the woman's arm, making it crunch. Bakura's mother cried, but just curled up around his sister to protect her. "In the name of the Pharaoh, you will relinquish your souls to us, you foul demons!"

In the name of the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh. You foul demons.

He watched as his mother and sister were dragged out of the house. Bakura couldn't move, not until he heard the screams of the other villagers fade in the distance. All the sudden, his pathetically weak voice worked.

"N-No, wait..."

Bakura got out of his hiding place and followed the glow of torches retreating further into the night. He kept out of sight but remained close. Everyone he'd ever known was funneled into an underground area, the smell of blood was so thick that he couldn't breathe.

The images were burned into his mind. Each and every one of them were sacrificed, beheaded. The stones under him ran red with blood and the aura of death. Bakura couldn't move.

He was too weak, too young. What was a child to do about an army sent by the Pharaoh? And so he did what any pathetic coward would do: he ran. He ran into the night crying like a baby. Because he wasn't strong enough.

Never again. Never again! He promised himself he'd never be weak again, he'd have the Pharaoh's head on a pike.

"Spirit?" Ryo said.

"What?" Bakura snapped, pulled from his unpleasant thoughts. Ryo flinched.

"Jeez, all I did was try to get your attention. You've been glaring holes in the wall for thirty minutes." Ryo said.

Bakura huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms roughly. "Who cares? I need those Millennium items. I need them, but what can I do? I need a plan."

The horrors of the Massacre of Kul Elna was his and his alone. Cursed upon him by the Pharaoh, the Pharaoh who got to sleep peacefully at night even knowing what he did. Bakura couldn't stand for this. He needed to make him suffer. Bakura's anger was alive, it had a pulse and was burning in his chest, demanding royal blood.

"You're going to drive yourself insane if that's all you think about, Bakura." Ryo said.

"Who cares?! Who cares about any of this?!" He shouted with far more rage than he had before. Ryo recoiled, startled by the spirit's outburst. What happened to them working together? Something must have pissed the spirit off.

Just as Ryo thought that, the spirit grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Suddenly, gold flooded Ryo's vision as the Millennium Ring started pulsing. As if the ring had a heart beat.

"We have work to do, Ryo. And I'll make that foul beast that calls himself 'Pharaoh' relinquish his soul!" The spirit said. Unhinged laughter was the last thing to echo through Ryo's head before the world went dark and silent.

(4935 Words.)

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cosmicangel888 · 1 year ago

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The Spiritual Community is Not Competition ~ Vibration Speaks for Itself ~ 5D Discernment

My name is my name, owning and of my name, my vibration, born to me, and those that had done thieving, schemes, plots plans to erase me, and take my spot, take my place, is simply in need, from the story line, of deep healing -

RECLAIM YOUR POWER, LIGHT LIFE --> KNOW THYSELF

How is it that entire secret societies, judicial, banking, community - #corruption masonry groups - an innocent, earth angel, that teaches loved and light, been doing my work for 16yr without a blemish, devoted mother and wife until I found about underground secret life and estranged for 7 yrs, celibate for 13yrs - and all that I have worked for, earned, got copied, taken, thieved, by my ex, groupies, covens, and false spiritualists that targeted me, human testing, tortured me, then targeted me spell casted ever greater - when I speak out - and not 1 person ever talking to me, asking me, and nor verifying my signatures, nor verifying anything - forensic account will see - where is the money coming from; where is it going -

How can thieves with any level of integrity take what is mine of sacred - the communities, spirit, source, God will assure all - every person paid, every person spell casted - all will be shown, known, and God will assure all are returned equal - #discrimination #healingabuse

Not 1 penny coming to me, yet a lot of monies made off of me -

Not 1 penny - yet all blaming, targeting, intimidating, discrimination because I will not sit down, I will have all returned to me, and I walk with a society far greater the deep pockets of corruption -

youtube

Be weary and discerning of any person, offering any false spiritual wisdoms, copied, doppelgänger, vibrational falseness, and synthetic vibrations that stalk the spiritual community for advice and wisdoms and ideas by those that do the work, but then take it further through fraud, through falsifying paperwork, signature, thieving work ideas business templates and foundations - all is my work, none were ever invited nor offered into my foundations, because source, spirit showed me none are aligned and nor would, could be in alignment for their choosing to not to the work -

youtube

Therefore, they are unable to integrate the codes, understanding, and processing of the light - I reclaim my power, energy, life, and those that have made my life hell - consistently that are addicted to my energy, life, output and that simply false narrate in deceiving, thieving, and copying, and defaming, while taking then blaming me for speaking up on the abuses;

There will not be reunions, reuniting on any levels with any of the past - the past is closed forever, and never to re-open; damage has been done and will not re-open.

I deserve what I have earned, and what I have worked for and created and I sever all ties, all those that deceive and warp, and twist, manipulate every person so they can get their way - while taking what is not theirs - Spirit will assure what is not meant not honouring you not caring or giving to you;

Let people show you who they are - trust that -

Stolen from once - they will do it over years and then they will blame, take, expect, entitlement - this is narcism and any person that takes without giving - shady nefarious - leave and sever all ties -

This same activity for years and simply those are not getting it - either you move or God will move you - respect thy word =

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I owe none and certain will connect with authorities for those that think they have stolen will come back and entitled to more - they will be placed with restraining orders - harassment, discrimination, years of spell work, abuse - God is not having it -

Communities that take, thief, harm - spell and confuse and warp, twist - that put you down because of who you are but only offer love, light - discrimination -

Not only was there years of abuse, stealing, targeting and the sick, toxic pimp vibration of thinking the victim wants more - it is truly in need of learning and clearing what this was - it was torment, hell, and vibrational torture - I would never ever allow any that treat any life in this way - into my life, circle - there is a lot of work to do and so much karma - that the innocent did not deserve adults that were not acting like adults and harming the children -

youtube

Relentless spell work, relentless deceiving to community, the intentions to erase my name, place within our planetary importance for ascension and yet - are not practicing nor care about ascension and yet take my monies, my work, my ideas, and then target me further - death to all previous cycles, energies, experiences of the past, secret lives, and secret patterns and behaviours behind closed doors that affect the children - and all have to live with their choices and karma - Spirit sees all - I rebuke, return, and denounce all past energy and will never ever carry an ounce nor care to ever speak to any of the past - it is forever closed; take accountability. #calgary #corruption #falseprophets

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Don't return, it will be blocked.

Remember - any spell work done in the house home of children, ESP, mental manipulation does affect the children and all is adding to the karma that as the adult you chose to create loving safe space for children - - and when you go against this - is karma - all have a choice.

None were ever given agreement or permission - my work is my work and those that thieve are not aligned with ascension work - evidence and all will be shown, standing on stage with me and all will be seen;

Proof is - truth is -

youtube

My business, my work, my ideas, my sessions, my videos all that I created belongs to me and spirit will assure all will be blocked from further stealing from me - I will press charges - Source, God will assure balance, justice, and returns are made - what occurred, still occurs is not fair and tormenting on every level.

I owe none - thieves know nothing about sacred energy and stealing what was not theirs yet stole for years while I was in poverty and tortured by their spell work and manipulation and harm -

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The karma is equal, those that know what is going on, watch, paid to silence, and do nothing - all is equal - judgment called on all -

My work is none but mine; and any that claim so - they are liars and thieves - and I will press charges -

I will start to bring names if this is not closed and Spirit will assure all named will be seen for who they are - leave me be.

I know what I experienced - I know who did what to me; God knows and what occurred was pure hell.

THE PAST WILL BE BLOCKED - period.

I deserve peace, and sacred honouring people in my life.

blessings & light,

Joanna

[email protected]

DONATIONs; PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

#ascension #enlightenment #awakening #healingcorruption #healingourchildren #healingblackmagic

#Youtube

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

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Temptation

masterlist

pairing - silas x forbes,fem!reader

type - fluffy smut, angst

note / request - “can i request a silas fic where the reader is Caroline's lil sis and Silas likes to annoy her, and he likes her a lot. Then Care and Damon are always into protective sibling modes where silas is around y/n. So one day they catch y/n making out w him, and then theres a lot of banter again” this was really fun to write! im not gonna rewrite background info lol so make sure to read the request. also the timeline of events is a little fuzzy so i apologise if i make a mistake. enjoy :)

summary - damon and caroline find you making out with the enemy, who just happens to be silas

warnings / includes - language, sibling fighting, steamy make out, sexual tension heheh, you’re in your senior year of high school, suggestive

————

*gif isn't mine*

“Hello, doll face,” Silas greeted behind you.

You jumped at his voice, but quickly settled down. “Hey, Silas,” you said dully.

“Why the long face, princess?” Silas asked.

“Because you’re here,” you said. “Oh, that’s so mean. You’ve hurt my feelings,” Silas pouted.

“Well, I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyways,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, you are such a goody two shoes. It’s cute, but annoying. Why not break the rules? I know you want to,” Silas said, leaning over the top of the couch, his face going right next to your’s.

You inhaled deeply, your heart pounding against your chest. You were attracted to him, no doubt about that, but if you even considered shaking his hand, Caroline and Damon would kill you. And you definitely didn’t want that.

“I can read your mind, Y/n. I know you want to kiss me, so go ahead,” he whispered.

You didn’t turn your head, but your eyes wandered to the left. You got a good view of his lips, which made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It was so tempting to close the gap between you two, but you knew better than that. You turned your head the other way, standing up from the couch. You packed up your school work, deciding to leave the Salvatore house and go to your own.

You were at the Salvatore house because Damon had offered to help you with your history homework. You took the offer and you two had been studying for a few hours. He had left you for 30 minutes to go and get you two lunch. In those 30 minutes, Silas had wandered into the house, looking for you.

You pulled out your phone, texting Damon to go to your house instead of back to his.

“Where are ya going?” Silas asked.

“Home,” you mumbled, keeping your head down and walking to the front door.

Silas stood in front of the door, making you look up at him with an annoyed frown.

“Please let me go,” you said.

“No, I’d rather see you beg,” Silas smirked. You rolled your eyes. “Please. Damon is waiting for me at my house with food.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t I just go with you, then? I’d love to see Damon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. “Why not? I can just pretend to be his brother! I’ve fooled lots of people already,” Silas smiled.

“I think Damon will notice. Especially if I’m there,” you said. “I’ll just sneak in then,” Silas suggested.

“No, Silas! I just want to go home alone. Leave me alone,” you said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. You went to push him out of the way, but his hands grabbed ahold of your wrists. His strong grip made goosebumps rush up your forearms.

Silas couldn’t help but smirk. You rarely ever had outbursts. He thought it was incredibly sexy and cute when you put your foot down. Especially when it pertained to him.

“You are so adorable when you’re mad. You're so small, too. I can’t help but not take you seriously,” Silas chuckled.

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You masked your embarrassment by groaning and running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Just let me go! Please. I’m hungry and tired and really need to study for my test.”

“What is your test over, anyways? History? Cause if so, I could help you out. I bet I know more than Damon,” Silas said.

“No thanks, bro, she’s all taken care of,” Damon said from behind Silas.

“You tattled that I was here! So naughty of you,” Silas glared at you playfully.

“Step out of the way, Silas. Otherwise I will snap your neck,” Damon sneered.

Silas sighed. “Fine! I’m only obeying because I want to kiss you before I die.”

“Fat chance of that. C’mon, Y/n. I got you a burger and those onion rings you like,” Damon said.

“Thanks, Damon,” you smiled gratefully at him.

“See you later, doll face!” Silas called out as you walked to your car.

“I’m sorry about him. I should make you the owner of the house,” Damon said.

You shrugged, “It’s alright. He would never actually hurt me.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Damon said.

“Yes, we do. Sure, he might threaten to kill me sometimes, but his liking for me trumps any chance of him killing me. I don’t fear him, he’s just extremely annoying,” you said, getting in your car.

“Agreed,” Damon said.

You two drove to your house, eating lunch and studying for a few more hours. Caroline and Elena then came home, talking to you and Damon about a party at the Grill.

“Can I come?” You asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Caroline nodded.

You smiled excitedly. You barley went to any of these parties. You usually were at home studying or hiding away in your house because Caroline and Damon were always worried for you, but Caroline figured that since she and Damon and everyone else would be there, they would be able to protect you.

So you took a quick shower and got ready for the night. You put on ripped jeans and a black, spaghetti-strapped top with a jean jacket. You put on heeled boots and put on some silver jewellery, as well as lined your eyes with eyeliner and painted your lips red with lipstick.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Elena exclaimed as you walked out of your room.

“Thanks, Elena,” you smiled at her.

“No, go change,” Caroline said. “Why?” You frowned.

“Because Silas could be there and that outfit would tempt him even more,” Damon explained.

You rolled your eyes. “So when Klaus was here, Caroline could wear anything, but I guess since I’m younger and a human, I can’t? That’s so unfair.”

“She’s right, guys. I hate Silas as much as you two, but let her dress how she wants. We’ll be there to protect her. Plus, if Silas thinks she’s hot, then good for her. She is,” Elena agreed with you.

You smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Ugh, fine! But no drinking, okay?” Caroline said.

“Ay, ay captain,” you said. You four went out to Elena’s SUV, driving to the Grill.

Loud music blasted into your ears as soon as you stepped inside. You smiled as you saw everything dancing and having the time of their life.

“Shots?” Caroline suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Elena squealed.

“Iced tea for you, Y/n?” Caroline asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded.

“Alright, you guys go to the pool table. I’ll be back,” Caroline said.

“Where is Stefan?” You asked, looking around the bar and walking to the pool table that was conveniently empty.

“Right here!”

You turned around, smiling once you saw Stefan in a grey shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. You went to hug him, but Damon stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah. How do we know it isn’t Silas?” Damon asked.

Stefan rolled his eyes. He pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, taking it and drinking it quickly.

“Alright, alright, we know it’s you. Cool it on the blood, brother. Don’t want to go into a bloodlust,” Damon said, taking the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

“Well, I don’t really know how else to prove I’m not Silas,” Stefan sighed. “Can I get that hug now?”

You smiled and nodded, wrapping your arms around him.

Between everyone else, Damon and Stefan were your best friends. They were like the brothers you’ve never had, protecting you and teasing you whenever they felt like it was necessary. You hadn’t seen Stefan in a while since he was found in the safe, but you were glad to see he was okay.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Stef,” you said, pulling back.

“And I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen victim to my doppelgänger,” Stefan smiled.

Caroline came back with shots, pleasantly surprised to see Stefan.

“Stefan! You’re here! Oh, my God the whole gang is here!” She squealed, putting down the shots and engulfing Stefan is a big hug.

“I’m excited to be here, too. This is the first time I’ve really gone out for fun. I hope nothing goes wrong,” Stefan joked.

“Well, if any of you spot Silas, make sure to not let him get close to Y/n. We don’t know what he could do to her,” Caroline said.

You rolled your eyes at her concern, but didn’t say anything. You knew it would end up with you two arguing and that was the last thing anything wanted. Forbes were very controlling and heated when they got angry.

You took your tea and sipped on it as Damon downed the first shot.

“Wait, are we playing in teams?” You asked.

“Yeah, which one do you wanna be one? Damon and I’s?” Stefan asked.

“Definitely yours,” you said. “Oh, what! You know I win all the time,” Damon said.

“Yeah, but when you lose you get so mad. It’s hilarious,” you giggled.

“True, it is cute,” Elena smirked.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You two are so annoying.”

You smiled and played with your friends for a little while. It came to a time where everyone was too tipsy to where they could barely walk, so you were in charge of getting the drinks. Damon and Caroline, despite being pretty much drunk, stayed close behind you.

“Hey, Matt,” you smiled at the boy working behind the bar. “Hey, Y/n! Let me guess, more shots and another iced tea?” He asked.

“You guessed right,” you chuckled.

“So, how is school?” He asked.

“Pretty good. History is kicking my ass, per usual. It’s weird because I’m surrounded by history buffs,” you said.

“Well, I know you have Damon helping you, but Stefan is a lot better at tutoring, in my opinion. I know he’s been having a rough time, though,” Matt said.

“He has, which is why I should be your tutor,” Silas smirked next to you.

You jumped slightly, surprised to see him there. You looked at him, seeing him wearing a dark navy shirt and jeans. Your eyes stared at his biceps and his strong, broad shoulders. Once you noticed him smirking at you, you looked back to the drinks Matt was filling.

“Now I get the silent treatment? C’mon, not fair,” Silas whined.

“You shouldn’t be here, man,” Matt said.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about, it huh?” Silas taunted, looking at Matt with narrow, menacing eyes.

Matt rolled his eyes, putting the tequila shots and your drink on a tray and handing them to you.

“Thanks, Matt,” you smiled.

You took the tray, ready to turn around and walk away from Silas. He put his arm up, planning to grab your arm to stop you, but Caroline and Damon used their vamp speed to push him back.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Caroline sneered. Veins were circulating under her eyes and she bared her fangs.

Silas smirked, not at all fazed. “Oh, please, I could kill both of you so fast, you couldn’t have chance to say bye to Y/n. Now, let me go, Damon.”

Damon’s grip on Silas’s arms tightened. “Not a chance. We’re going outside and I’m gonna make sure you are far away from here.”

Damon then took Silas to the exit, Silas looking back at you and giving you a wink. Caroline groaned in disgust and took the tray away from you.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, Care! He wasn’t going to hurt me,” you glared at her.

“You don’t know that! Why are you defending him? Doesn't he annoy you?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, he does,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end, alluding to something else.

Caroline stared at you intensely, gasping once she put the pieces together. “You… You like him? Ugh, why! He’s a monster.”

“I don’t like him! God, why is that always your first assumption?” You asked.

“Because you obviously are having physical reactions to him. We all see the way you look down in shyness when he flirts with you, and we can hear your heart racing. We just hoped you wouldn’t give in,” Caroline sighed.

“I’m not! I don’t like him in any way, okay? Just because I defend someone doesn’t mean I automatically like them!”

“That’s what you always say! You need to get rid of those feelings, Y/n. He’s not a good person.”

You closed your eyes in frustration, sighing roughly. “I’m going to the bathroom to cool down. When I come out, you better not say anything else about me liking Silas.”

You spun on your heels, storming off to the bathroom. You washed your hands, putting them to your forehead to cool yourself down.

“Feelings for Silas, please,” you scoffed to yourself.

“She’s right. I know it, you know it. Everyone does.”

You looked in the mirror, jumping once you saw Silas behind you. You turned around quickly.

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked.

“I knocked Damon out,” he shrugged.

“What?! Is he okay?” You asked. “Yes, he’s fine. I know that you would hate me if I killed one of your friends,” he said.

You sighed, “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.” You went to the door, but Silas once again blocked the entrance.

“You gotta be quicker, Y/n. Someday you might find yourself in real trouble,” Silas smiled down at you.

“You are real trouble,” you retorted.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. If I was then you’d be screaming for your life. But you’re just standing there, looking so incredibly kissable,” Silas said, shamelessly looking at your lips.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you looked down to hide your face. “No, I just don’t want to make a scene,” you mumbled.

Silas put his hand on your chin, making your eyes meet his. “While that is true, you also having feelings for me.”

You stepped away from him, his hand falling to his side. “I don’t. You’re evil and cheated on your girlfriend. No girl wants to be with a guy like that.”

“Elena practically cheated on Stefan emotionally, you’re still friends with her,” Silas stated.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what to say back. He was correct, but you knew that wasn’t the point. You needed to get out of there otherwise Caroline and Damon would freak out.

Silas walked towards you slowly, like you were his prey that he was stalking. You turned around, not wanting to look at him. Silas grinned, seeing as his plan would work out even better now that you were facing the mirrors.

He put his hand on your bare arm, dragging his fingertips up your skin.

“I’m so glad you took off the leather jacket. Your outfit looks so much better without it,” he murmured.

You immediately froze. Your eyes were glued to the two of you in the mirror. You watched as his hand went up to your shoulders, pressing down lightly on your muscles.

“Shouldn’t you be running, Y/n?” Silas asked, moving. your hair out of the way so he could get a better view of your neck.

You knew you should, but his touch felt so good. It weirdly calmed your nerves down, but also made you flustered as hell. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to stay in this bathroom and let him take you. Silas smiled at your thoughts, lowering his lips down to your shoulder.

“I can totally take you right here if you want,” he whispered, his lips making contact with your skin.

You inhaled sharply, finding yourself stumbling back into his chest. His other arm went around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Your skin is so soft, doll face,” he said while kissing up your neck.

You watched him in the mirror, your stomach doing flips. Your legs felt weak and heat gathered in between your thighs. You had honestly wanted to kiss him this whole time. You decided a few more minutes in the bathroom couldn’t hurt.

So you turned around, crashing your lips onto his. Silas smiled as you kissed him, his hands trailing down to your legs. He lifted you up with ease, taking you to the sink and placing you on the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running themselves through his hair.

“Silas,” you breathed out as you felt his hands on your thighs, going higher and higher.

“You like that, princess?” He hummed, his fingers going higher until they reached your clothed entrance. He pulled away, grinning and looking you in the eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, pulling his face close to yours roughly.

Your lips collided again, your heart and brain exploding. Kissing him felt like heaven.

Silas mirrored your neediness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You pressed your chest up to him more, your hands going down from his head to the bottom of his shirt. You lifted it up, Silas pulling away so you could pull it off of him. You sat back and admired his abs and muscles, excitement growing in between your thighs.

You dove down to his neck, kissing and sucking lightly. Your hands explored his chest, tracing along his prominate abs. Silas breathed heavily into your ear, groaning as you found his sweet spot.

“Oh, Y/n,” he panted.

You smirked against his skin. Before you could put your hands on his belt, the bathroom door burst open. You saw Caroline and Damon standing, eyes huge and mouths agape.

“What the hell!” Caroline shrieked.

Your eyes widened and you pushed Silas away from you, getting off the counter.

“Really, Y/n? You pick him to make out with in the bathroom?” Damon groaned.

“It is just happened,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, she’s a really good kisser,” Silas smirked. “I never would have expected it since she’s shy and all, but man, she is wil-”

“You shut the hell up. And you,” Caroline pointed to you. “Are going home. now.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Care,” you said.

Caroline looked at you two incredulously. “You’re making her say this! You pressured her, didn’t you!” She pointed to Silas.

“He’s not! I was the one who kissed him first,” you admitted. “Yeah, but I helped a little,” Silas smirked.

Caroline made her vampire face and lunged at Silas, to which Damon pulled her back.

“Alright, blondie, why don’t you take Y/n home and I’ll deal with Silas, okay?” Damon said.

Caroline huffed and nodded, grabbing you by the arm roughly.

“We’ll continue another time, doll face!” Silas exclaimed.

“No, you will not,” Damon glared.

————

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superlativesamsara · 3 years ago

Text

Rose: Awaken==>

...You Wake rather abruptly, midstride, as sometimes happens, inevitably causing you to fall flat on your poor poor face as the mental feedback of memories new and old makes you miss your stride. The last thing you recall is an onrushing wave of blue fire that made things twist into shapes that should not be. The last thing you remember is setting out from town before the superstitious locals discovered you practiced "magick most foul" and decided they needed to burn you lest you invite some manner of demon or horror into their midst. Damn backwaters and their isolationist attitudes, even the minor cities are allowing branches of the Scholarium del Arcana to set up shop these days. After all, well educated mages are safe mages. Not that you'd know anything about that, because, of course, you're not a mage. Not even close.

The in-loop memories seem rather unusually potent this time, and you get the feeling that wherever you are, it's gonna be a long one, especially given the distinct lack of mental pressure from your branch's local patron deity and her micromanaging ways. You purposely crash the loop one time and she fucking never lets it go, even if she did later agree it was very deserved. Then again, not having her ever-present watchful eye is enough to leave you nervous. What could possibly be so important that Ananke would loosen her grasp on the reins even slightly? You decide you don't want to know, and in fact, you don't want to consider it further lest you draw in her attention.

You take a few more moments to let the pain of both the hard fall on your face and the migraine of integrating with the self you just got put in the shoes of before trying to dig a bit deeper into your loop memories, trying to figure out what, precisely, you are. It takes a few minutes but soon you think you understand it.

As is your wont, you decide to think of it in terms of tabletop classes and tropes, and the nearest you can recall is that you're a Kineticist, a living conduit between this plane and the elemental chaos. Specifically, your primary affinities are to Air and Light, manifesting as the ability to draw out raw elemental essences of lightning and radiance and use them to accomplish a myriad of magic-adjacent effects.

Though you've got a marked affinity to these two specific elements, you feel the others swirling just out of reach, and know that you could grasp them if you simply reached for them... but somehow you also know it would be a bad idea to force them, and after a moments consideration you realize why. Your body is currently heavily saturated with your affinity elements, and from this you gather that your flesh is still very much mortal, and that you have had to take the time to acclimate your body to the elemental forces you can wield through gradual exposure to them, and further that while you could force other types of energy through and survive, it wouldn't be pleasant by any means unless you introduced them in a similar manner.

So, for the time being, your repertoire seems to consist of powers drawn from Essence of The Sky and Essence of Light. Well, that, and things your Unawake self managed to figure out how to do with them. Among others, you can form your essential energies into simple objects, mostly weapons, ionize and compress the air about you to cushion a fall, not unlike the "icarus system" from Deus Ex, or infuse someone with healing light to mend their wounds. A fine place to start, though the limits of your powers will require rigorous testing.

It's been so long since you've gotten to try something wholly new, you can't help but feel a bit giddy at the idea. It's only then that you think to check if you can reach your Pocket, and you find that, though it takes a bit more effort to get to for some reason, all your things are still safely stored in the pocket dimension forged from your excess of soul energy, exactly where you left them.

You pull out your phone from your Pocket, ignoring the anachronisms of using it in a High Fantasy loop, and... why is tumblr installed...? You don't remember making this account! What the actual FUCK is this?! Multiversal contact?! Mages from parallel realities?! Androids?! A previous incarnation you don't remember?! Doppelgängers?! SOUL FRAGMENTS?!?!

Your name is Rose Strider and you are absolutely fucking pissed. You can almost hear that Someone Upstairs is laughing at you.

#confused mutterings (semi ic)#character intro: Loop Rose #second person narration #not viewable ic #unless your muse is Meta but then #your muse doesn't really care what's viewable ic do they?#long post //#hence the readmore

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mooncustafer · 3 years ago

Text

Recover, Regroup, Roadtrip

Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in March 1989. The case is still open. Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in October 2016. The case is still open.

for @laughingpinecone /

/ @countdowntotwinpeaks‘ WONDERFULXSTRANGE 2021

“Diane, I am uncertain of the date and time, or indeed if such concepts have any meaning in this place. Nor do I have my recorder, but I find verbalizing my thoughts helps me to resist the confusion and lethargy. As for addressing my words to you, even though you’ll never hear them— well, old habits die hard.”

It pleased Wally Brando on a profound level to discover that a few pay-phones remained in Philadelphia, that reaching out was not yet the prerogative only of those who could afford a landline or a mobile. He could also have checked his email on a terminal at one of the city’s Public Libraries, and indeed, made a note to do so within the day so that he might catch up on the news of parents and former school friends. The pay phone was also blessed with both the yellow and the white pages, and the number he sought appeared under “F.” Getting transferred to Dr. Albert Rosenfield was a more complex quest, but he was persistent as well as polite, and after a few minutes he was able to speak to Dr. Rosenfield’s voice mail, if not the man himself.

He introduced himself with salutations, and was about the explain the nature of his request when a beep signalled that the allotted time had run out.

“To listen to your message, press one. To re-record your message, press two,” said the voice of the machine.

Silently cursing his volubility, Wally pressed two. This time he simplified the introduction, and asked if Dr. Rosenfield would be good enough to meet him that evening at the Morimoto Japanese restaurant not far from the FBI offices, to discuss a matter of deep concern connected, he believed, with the little town of Twin Peaks. When the beep came this time, he listened to his message and then, satisfied, hung up. The restaurant he’d named was slightly above his means, but he was meeting a friend of his godfather, and wanted to do justice to the occasion, even if the reason for it was one of peculiar anxiety to himself.

“Diane, I have tried so many times to escape— on the last attempt I really did get out into the world, but my plans, I fear, had dire repercussions for you, and to no end— my course still led me back to the Black Lodge. Some flaw in my own nature keeps trapping me in this loop; perhaps it’s what they sometimes call Saṃsāra.”

It was Agent Tammy Preston’s custom, when scraping the internet for information relevant to one or more recent cases, to check her email inbox every seven minutes— to do so every five minutes would disrupt the flow of her work, but ten-minute gaps might let something important go unanswered for too long. Just now the inbox was due another glance, and switching tabs she saw that two minutes earlier Director Bryson had replied to Tammy’s email of that morning with an invitation to come by her desk at her earliest possible convenience.

Tammy locked her screen, paused ‘Soft Fuzzy Man’ on her playlist and removed her headphones. Picking up the folder marked Missing Persons, 1989– Palmer, she slipped back into her pumps and made for Bryson’s office. The door was open but Tammy stopped at the threshold and rapped on the wall.

“Come in,” said Director Bryson, looking up from a folder. Bossa nova music played softly in the background as Tammy entered and pulled up a chair. It sometimes puzzled Tammy that apart from herself and Director Gordon Cole, no one in this particular division of the FBI seemed to have any interest in music recorded after 1979. (The first few times she’d heard ‘Du Hast’ pounding through the walls of Cole’s office, she’d wondered if this taste for metal was the result, or perhaps the cause, of his hearing loss; but after he’d joked to an unamused Agent Rosenfield about how these were difficult times and difficult times called for Dave Brubeck, she’d looked up the reference in case it was a coded message, and then the next day had overheard Gordon whistling ‘Mister Sandman,’ a song she knew primarily from an internet meme, at which point she concluded that the ear wants what it wants, regardless of demographic.)

“You told me you’d found some serious inconsistencies in the records surrounding Twin Peaks and the Palmer case?”

Tammy nodded, hesitated:

“I believe there may be inconsistencies as well in my own perceptions of the case.”

“Well now, that I find a little harder to believe.” Bryson smiled, but then her voice grew serious: “I’ve looked over the notes you made, and it confirms my own doubts about events.”

“Worse yet— the fact that I truly left the Lodge and then returned to it, will enable the beings that inhabit this place to take another twenty-five year turn in my likeness, unleashing even more evil on the world. The only thing stalling them is the doppelgänger I had MIKE make for the Jones family, but I don’t know if he’s still under the White Lodge’s protection.”

After all these months it still surprised Harry Truman there was so little physical pain, and so much boredom, to dying. Oh there’d been pain at the beginning, when he’d started treatment and had had to stop drinking; the memory of detoxing still made him shudder. But now he only felt a tiredness too huge for sleep to make any dent in it; and since he couldn’t sleep all the time, there were a great many hours during which all he could do was lie in the hospice bed or sit in one of the hospice chairs, and think.

At this point dying didn’t even sound so bad— it wasn’t like the past three decades had been all that great. He imagined going to sleep, just filling up a big bowl of silence and darkness and sinking into it, and then he felt bad for thinking that because Frank had already lost enough people without Harry lighting out too. Anyways, with the things he’d seen over the years he’d be a damn fool to think there was anything peaceful about death and whatever came after. So he’d lie awake trying to find some other topic to ponder, and that’s generally when the boredom set in.

Right now, courtesy of the nap he’d had in the afternoon after today’s treatment had left him especially exhausted, he was lying awake in the wee small hours. 3:52 am, said the clock on his bedside table beside the stack of paperbacks Frank had brought him on his visits— Harry wasn’t afraid of e-readers the way Lucy was of cellular phones, but he found the smell of paper comforting. It reminded him of the Bookhouse. The hospice tended to smell of disinfectants and sweat and soup. The food actually wasn’t as bad as the food at the hospital in Twin Peaks used to be, not that any food could be as bad as the hospital food in Twin Peaks used to be, but it made no difference to Harry, whose appetite had been gone for months. Frank always brought a slice of Norma’s pie too, carefully sealed in an old cookie tin to keep it fresh, but Harry could never manage more than a couple of bites, and they didn’t always stay down.

Being awake in the middle of the night in a hospice wasn’t as bad as being awake in the middle of the night when you were alone at home— the occasional voices or footsteps from the corridors beyond were reminders that whatever might be happening to Harry, life went on for the staff; and the lights from the city outside showed that life went on for others outside the hospice walls. When he’d first arrived, those city lights had made it hard to sleep, but now they substituted for the starry sky above Twin Peaks. There were fewer birds to watch in the city, though sparrows, pigeons or a starling sometimes lit on the ledge outside his window and peered in at him, or maybe at their own reflections. The frequent rain pattering against the glass— well, that sounded the same here as it did in a cabin.

Frank had called to tell him about Margaret Lanterman. Harry sometimes wondered if he should have stayed in Twin Peaks and died in his own home like her, instead of lingering in this hospice like the doomed heroine of some nineteenth-century novel. Or like Annie Blackburn. Or Audrey Horne.

The rain was spattering now against Harry’s window, bending the light from the Japanese stone lantern in the pocket-sized garden below. Harry couldn’t remember what the hospice building looked like from the outside, but he guessed it was similar in style to the mid-century one next door where the day-patients came for their treatments. A flash silhouetted the roofline; five seconds later came the thunder-crack. Harry settled back and closed his eyes.

Sleep pulled him into dreams of an espresso machine, like the one in the coffee place down in the lobby next to the gift shop for visitors. This machine filled a whole room, metal pipes feeding back on themselves like some kind of espressouroboros, neither steam nor coffee escaping from the grotesque contraption. Agent Cooper stood wearily before it with two empty coffee-cups. Harry was just wondering who the second cup was for, when Coop looked up and met his eyes:

“What year is this?!”

Harry sat up in bed, listened intently for two full minutes, but he didn’t hear Coop’s voice again. He sighed. Sometimes the mind pulls imaginary sounds out of the background noise. False pattern recognition or something— Coop would have known a word for it. Harry had little hope left they’d ever find Cooper, or if they did, that he’d still be the man he’d known. Yet he’d carried on, more (he told himself) out of habit than any real hope. He’d kept in touch with Agent Rosenfield, even when it meant letting him know about the cancer— not that Albert would blab the secret to anyone in Twin Peaks.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re still alive.” Albert’s personality hadn’t mellowed with the years, exactly, but familiarity had worn the edges off his jibes.

“Shut up, Albert. So what have you found?” Albert’s calls generally came every three months, but never at nine in the morning, and he’d last spoken to Harry only two weeks back. Something important must have happened.

“Actually, Sheriff Truman, I’m the one coming to you for information.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, it’s not easy to do investigations from a hospital bed. What can I tell you that you can’t get from other sources?”

“I need you to summarize the Laura Palmer case back in 1989, and the actions of Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks at that time.”

“Albert, is this one of your damn cognitive tests? You already know—”

“We’re both too tired to argue, just humor me.”

“How detailed do you want?”

“An outline will suffice.”

Harry took a deep breath and briefly listed the finding of Laura’s body, and the living but dazed and injured Ronnette, and the arrival of Agent Dale Cooper to lead the investigation. He skimmed over the crimes of Jacques Reneault and some of the other peripheral drama that had occurred in the town around that time, noted that Leland Palmer had murdered his own daughter, albeit while not fully himself, and was beginning to recount Cooper’s temporary suspension and Windom Earle’s campaign of terror, when Albert interrupted:

“You’ve still got the unofficial version, then.”

“Unofficial?”

“According to FBI records and your colleagues at the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Office, Laura Palmer is an unsolved missing-person case.”

Harry began to feel sick.

“Goddammit, Albert, you did the autopsy. I punched you and you fell across her body. You found a broken poker chip in her stomach—” Albert broke in:

“I hadn’t disclosed that detail to anybody I’ve questioned about this.” His voice was a little shaky. “Listen, Harry,” he continued. “Last Friday I was contacted by a young man wearing motorcycle leathers and talking like Jack Kerouac on quaaludes.”

“Wally.”

“Naturally I supposed him to be from your iodine-deficient neck of the woods even before he introduced himself as your godson and the offspring of those lieutenants of yours. He told me he’d come because he wasn’t sure where else to turn. Apparently he keeps in touch with his parents as he rides across the continent, but in their most recent conversation he’d noticed their memories of certain events had become confused. I was about to tell him I wasn’t the least bit surprised, when he added that he’d checked with other townsfolk, including your brother, and they all seemed to have had the same— how’d he put it? ‘The walls of their memory painted over like a childhood bedroom converted to a study.’”

”That sounds like Wally, all right.”

”Eventually he got round to explaining why he’d come to me. The message that had prompted him to call home was from Lucy; she said she’d shot a suspect who was attacking your brother Frank. She’d also mentioned some FBI agents arriving a few minutes later.”

Harry swallowed. He tried to imagine Lucy shooting anyone:

“Frank never said anything about this.”

“And when Wally called home, Andy and Lucy not only denied it had happened, they had no idea what he was talking about, not that I’d guess that to be an unusual state of affairs. Anyway, after I sent your godson away, I began to have contradictory memories myself of what Cooper had told me about the case. I remembered the poker chip after waking in the middle of the night from the worst dreams I’d had since medical school. I’ve been telling myself it was a false memory, maybe a composite of all the young female murder victims I’ve had to examine in my career, but I told myself I’d make one more phone call, just to check. And now you confirm it. Also, in my recall you knocked me across Leo Johnson’s body. Thanks for the correction. Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, glad he was already sitting on his bed.

“Now that that’s established,” said Albert’s voice on the other end of the phone: “here’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: when do you remember Agent Cooper disappearing?”

“March 1989.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady, as though he was giving evidence in court. He briefly explained about the Black Lodge and Coop’s reappearance and unsettling behaviour and how he’d checked himself out of the hospital and was never heard from again. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there, Albert?”

“According to FBI records and, up until two days ago, my own memories: Coop disappeared this past October while driving to Odessa, Texas for a case. The last record of him was a credit-card charge at a motel just outside the city.”

“What was he investigating in Odessa?”

“Missing person. I’ve tried looking into that case, but it seems to be a dead end, especially since Coop never seems to have arrived at the diner where the man he was looking for had allegedly been running drugs.”

“Sounds like the kind of establishment where nobody’d admit anything. Maybe Coop did get to the diner.”

“Gee, you’ve cracked it Sheriff, we would never have thought of that. The diner was old-school, but not so old-school they didn’t have a security camera trained on the front counter. We went over three days worth of footage. I admit we can’t be sure he didn’t slip in through the back for some reason; but you knew Coop— can you honestly picture him entering a diner and not ordering a coffee?”

“Not the Coop I knew, but— I already told you he was acting pretty erratically just before he took off.”

Harry heard Albert sigh.

“I’ve been checking with a few of my colleagues who were involved in the original Palmer investigation. I think Gordon knows something, but being Gordon he’s saying nothing, and as loudly as possible. Denise— Director Bryson, now— remembers the unofficial version, and according to her so does Agent Preston— oh right, you never met Agent Tammy Preston, the poker-faced glamazon computer hacker— I’m not sure she was even born yet in 1989, but she was on a case in Twin Peaks in October 2016, and during the course of the subsequent paperwork, she started noticing a lot of records and statements didn’t match up, and then she realized her own memories didn’t match up. Which brings up another problem with trying to reason this out by conventional methods: something in that Salem’s Pacific-Northwest Lot of yours is rewriting memories, documents, maybe the facts themselves. But so far it’s predominantly affected the people who were on the spot this past October.” Albert’s voice rasped a little from the long phone call, and he paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, that also means the people most likely to remember the original version of events are people who weren’t in the Sheriff’s Office during the incident that seems to have triggered the change. At the risk of sounding like one of those bullshit shows on the History Channel, we may never know exactly what happened that night.”

“Wait, what even was the case that brought you all back in 2016?”

“That’s the problem— I’m one of the people who was there, and I only have vague and disconnected memories of a British man with a gardening glove, the chorus of Guys and Dolls, Agent Cooper leaving the room with Diane, his secretary who quit the FBI decades ago, and Gordon, and only Gordon coming back.” Albert paused again. “It goes against my personal feelings and medical opinions, but would you be willing to let me visit you in person? I’ve some vacation time and enough frequent-flyer miles that the trip will probably cost less than the long-distance charges if we continue this conversation.”

Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the key to Coop’s old hotel room:

“Yeah, come by.”

“Diane, I am currently alone. I realize that statement implies that I’m not always alone here, and indeed I sometimes have a companion, who I still think of as Laura Palmer, though I don’t know if that’s her identity anymore; I’d hoped, after my last attempt, that Laura would no longer be in this place at all. She comes and goes, or perhaps we both come and go and our orbits occasionally intersect. I’ve tried to find some pattern to it, but with no reliable way to measure time, I’ve had little success.

The last time we met she told me about a room she hadn’t seen before, all white walls, in which a dark-haired woman was contemplating a mirror with a puzzled look. I can’t help but feel this parallels my own situation.”

“Frank sent me this last month. But when I thanked him the next time he called, he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.” Albert hesitated before taking the room key:

“Great Northern Hotel,” he read, turning it over. “Twin Peaks. Isn’t the front desk going to want this back?”

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s from 1989 when Coop was staying there.”

Albert’s ears stuck out more noticeably, or perhaps it was his face that was thinner. He’d spent the first part of his visit scrutinizing Harry and questioning him about his case and what the doctors were doing for it, until Harry told him to quit it or he’d run out of time to discuss Coop’s disappearance before visiting hours ended, and anyway weren’t Albert’s patients usually dead to begin with?

The trouble with the subsequent discussion was that it went in a circle— the people who’d been present for the 2016 Unknown Event had uncertain memories of what had actually happened; and the people who clearly recalled the 1989 Palmer case as a murder hadn’t been present for the Unknown Event. The one thing that seemed likely was that there was some connection between the 1989 case and the 2016 case, particularly since both had been followed by the unsolved disappearance of one Agent Dale Cooper.

“I hate to say it, Albert, but I’ve given up hope on ever finding Coop.”

“What’s hope got to do with it?” Albert asked. His tone was not sarcastic.

“Diane, I’ve decided that, if only to keep my mind occupied, I will go looking for the white room and the woman with the mirror. I’d feel happier if I had a ball of twine or some breadcrumbs to leave as a trail back to the waiting room, but I’m coming to terms with the idea that’s there’s no advantage to remaining or returning here— it’s not as if I need food or drink in this place, and I cannot be any more lost than I already am.

So far, I believe I’ve walked down five identical red-curtained hallways, and turned left five times. It therefore seems likely that I’m following a counterclockwise, roughly spiral path, although I’m uncertain if I’m proceeding inwards or outwards.”

“If this search is going to require juggling two sets of memories, then I’d better come along so you don’t get brainwashed again.”

“Sheriff Truman, if you haven’t noticed by now, you’re in a cancer hospice.”

“I just finished a round of treatments, I’ve got a couple of weeks free.” Albert snorted and Harry added: “You can monitor my health while we’re on the road.”

“I’m already thinking of your health. You’re immunocompromised, travel is too risky.”

“We’re crossing a few state lines, not going to the other side of the world.”

Albert pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. I’m driving. Which also means I get to choose the music.”

In fact, they went most of the way by plane, after Albert weighed the odds and decided five hours in a tube of recycled air would still be easier on Harry than a two-day road trip. Some of the passengers threw suspicious looks at Harry’s N95 mask, but they’d cleared it in advance with the airline, and Harry had briefly removed it when he went through TSA, and Albert was prepared to flash his FBI badge, but the flight crew were understanding.

They picked up a car at Midland International. Someone, presumably an employee of the car-rental company, had left a bundle of tourist-attraction pamphlets on the front passenger seat.

“According to these, Odessa has replicas of the Globe Theatre and Stonehenge,” Harry observed once he’d got himself settled.

“Why?” Albert asked.

“Got me there. The pamphlets don’t explain the motivation.”

Albert reached up and pulled down the car’s sunshade on Harry’s side, though the Sheriff insisted his cowboy hat was protection enough for his pale scalp:

“We’re not in the northwest where it rains every fifteen minutes,” he muttered, “and I’ve been looking up the side effects of your meds— you sunburn easily now.” Albert’s driving skirted the city, and they did not pass the Globe or Stonehenge.

The Pearblossom Motel, last recorded location of Agent Cooper, proved to be closed down. They’d noticed the papered-over windows as they pulled up, the sign unlit, not even to say NO VACANCY, but Albert got out to knock anyway. Harry watched him from the car; eventually he clambered out and slowly walked over to join him.

Albert was peering through a spot where the paper had torn away behind the window-glass. He stepped aside for Harry, and the sheriff took a look into the motel’s dim interior. He saw an ordinary, rather old-fashioned registration office, wood-grain panelling on the walls along with a few faded posters for local attractions. Rows of keys still hung on a board behind the desk, and a daily calendar read October 15, presumably the date the motel had closed, or the approximate date— Harry could imagine a concierge might not bother to keep tearing off the pages if they knew it was their last week on the job.

“I now realize that despite everything, I’ve still been harbouring hopes of finding my way back to the waiting room, hence my continual choosing of left-hand turns, as if attempting to mathematically navigate a maze. I must make a true leap of faith if intuition is to guide me, so I’ve closed my eyes and spun around several times in this corridor, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.

Now that I no longer can tell which direction I’ve come from… Diane, can you hear that? Of course you can’t, I don’t really have my tape recorder. I’m going to fall silent and listen for a bit.”

There seemed little else of interest at the motel (Harry, feeling a bit silly, had even tried the Great Northern’s room key on all the doors), so they turned back towards Odessa to look for the diner Cooper had been investigating. The motel was only a mile behind when they saw, ahead of them, a tall woman walking along the highway, her fire-engine-red hair, black t-shirt and pencil skirt out of place in a locale that was rural to the point of emptiness. Albert swore under his breath.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he told Harry. “Roll down your window, I’m pulling over.” But the woman only threw a glance at the car as it slowed, flipped them the bird, and kept walking, though she stepped gingerly and Harry noticed she was barefoot on the asphalt. Albert leant across him and stuck his head out the window:

“Diane!”

“Fuck off, guys. I’m not Diane, and whoever she is I bet she’d tell you the same.” Harry gently pushed Albert back and leant out the window himself:

“Sorry, ma’am, mistaken identity. Are you all right though? I see you’ve mislaid your shoes.”

“Looks like somebody ran off with them,” the woman answered, her tone mocking despite the tired set of her shoulders. “I haven’t been up to anything illegal, officer. Just a bit of fooling around.”

“We can give you a ride into town,” Harry offered. “If it helps, you’ll be alone in the back seat— means you can get the drop on us if you start to feel nervous.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the offer, then abruptly barked out a laugh and opened the back door of the car, took a seat and folded her long legs in after her. “Only because I need a lift,” she insisted, rubbing her bare feet. “I knew office romances were a bad idea, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. Nothing to do now but go home and drown my sorrows in Hallowe’en candy.”

“You’ve still got candy left over from Hallowe’en?” In the mirror above the dashboard, Harry saw Albert raise an eyebrow and the woman in the back seat frowned, insulted:

“No! I may not have a maternal bone in my body, but I’m not going to give the trick-or-treaters candy that’s a year old.”

“Ma’am,” Harry asked, thinking about the calendar back in the Pearblossom Motel office, “what date d’you think it is?”

“Mid-October,” she began. Harry saw her reach into her purse with her black-and-white nails and pull out a mobile phone. Her eyes widened at the date: “No, it’s March. The fuck?—” She ran a hand through her scarlet hair. Harry wondered if it was dyed or a wig. Perhaps she was bald too. “Must be losing it. I was so sure it was October. And it’s not like I’ve could’ve been wandering around this desert for five months.” She tapped her phone screen. “5,230 messages?!” She looked frightened now, raising her head to meet their gaze in the mirror. “Where the hell have I been? And you guys— you’re feds, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry began.

“I am,” said Albert. “He’s not.”

“Well, can you tell me what’s going on? Or is it classified? God, it’s not aliens, is it? I always assumed alien conspiracies were bullshit to cover up real conspiracies.”

“It’s probably not aliens,” Harry answered, unable to keep doubt from his voice as he remembered Major Briggs, “but I afraid it’s not going to sound any less weird.”

“To start with, we’re in the area investigating a colleague who disappeared in October,” began Albert, “and then you turn up, apparently amnesiac since that date.”

“And with my messages unchecked since then.”

“Yes, but there’s another detail— you look exactly like a former colleague of mine who was close to our missing man. That’s why I called you Diane when I slowed down.”

“I need a smoke.”

“No.”

“Albert,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve already got cancer, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Do you want me to answer that in detail?”

“No I don’t.” Harry turned to look over his shoulder at the woman in the back: “Just roll down your window first.”

“We’ll pull over and she can step away from the car,” said Albert.

He stopped on a shoulder, and their passenger got out and lit a cigarette. Examining the packet, she called to them:

“Three left. That’s fewer than I remember having on me in October, but not by much.” Albert, meanwhile, had pulled a shopping bag from the back seat:

“You should eat something,” he said to Harry, producing a sealed cup of applesauce and a box of plastic spoons. Between rounds of treatment, Harry’s nausea receded, but his appetite was still pretty weak. “There’s saltine crackers, too.” Harry chuckled in spite of himself as he tore the foil off the applesauce:

“This all makes me feel like I’m home from school with the ‘flu.”

“You’ll have to watch Roadrunner cartoons on your own phone, I’m not paying for the data,” Albert snapped.

“I’m surprised we even get reception out here.” The red-haired woman had strolled back to the car with her cigarette, though she took care to stay downwind from Harry’s rolled-down window. “Guys, is it just me or is this highway really deserted— like, Rod-Serling-voiceover deserted?”

“We were just thinking Roadrunner cartoons.”

“Can’t be, there’s no weird rocks.” She flicked ash onto the pavement, “Though it does feel like if someone painted a tunnel entrance on a wall around here, you might be able to drive into it. If you weren’t a coyote.” She took another drag and glanced at the power lines humming above their heads. “Maybe it’s the hum from those wires that’s giving us brain cancer— oh sorry, dude.” She broke off and looked at Harry in apology.

“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said when he’d finished swallowing his mouthful of applesauce. “I’ve got leukaemia, not brain cancer. And the sound from those lines is unpleasant. Like the whine of mosquitoes in the woods.” As he spoke the hum intensified, becoming a loud crackle. Albert glanced up as a shadow fell over the three travellers and their car.

In the sky a dark, nebulous shape twisted, circled, formed a comma or an apostrophe, and dove towards them.

The first few grackles, out of thousands, came down on the roof and hood of the car. Harry could see one pecking at the windscreen and glaring at him with hard yellow eyes. He suddenly remembered Coop had been afraid of birds; until now, he’d never been able to imagine why. He turned and pushed open the back door as the woman dove inside the vehicle. Around them, the flock blotted out the landscape.

“Hope they don’t scratch up the finish,” Albert shouted over the sound of wing-beats, “or I’m not getting my deposit back.”

“Is this nesting season? I mean, are the grackles round here normally this—”

“Oh fuck, one got in!” came a yell from the back seat. Eardrums ringing, Harry turned to see a small black shape ricocheting around the car’s interior as the woman flailed her long, bare arms. The grackle made for the gap between Albert’s seat and headrest.

And got stuck, its beak not quite touching the back of Albert’s neck.

Harry reached for the little feathered body, thinking of how to pin the wings against the bird’s sides to avoid injury to it or the surrounding humans, but the moment his fingers touched it, it crumbled. At the same time the din outside the car ceased.

“That— that’s not natural.” Their passenger was covering her mouth with her hand. Even Albert looked shocked. Harry stared at the palmful of ash that was all that was left of the grackle.

“Let me get a sample bag,” Albert muttered. He pulled out a small clear plastic bag, and held it out while Harry poured the remains in. Then he handed him a packet of wet wipes. “You all right, Diane?” The woman in the back seat did not correct him on the name this time.

“Couple of scratches,” she said, examining her right arm. Albert passed her a mini first-aid kit. Got to give him his dues, he prepares for everything, thought Harry, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Y’know,” he said, “This could be a good sign. In that it’s any kind of sign. There’s nothing worse than working in the dark, waiting for some hint you’re getting warmer or colder— that’s the kind of thing makes you wonder if the thing you’re looking for is even out there at all. But this—”

“Someone tipped their hand, you mean, when they tried throwing a Hitchcock movie in our faces,” Albert cut in. “But what exactly did we do to worry them?” His glance, and Harry’s, moved to the dashboard mirror’s reflection of their passenger.

“You think the birds were after me, or wanted to break up our merry band?” She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble is I know a token effort when I see one.”

“Or a warning.”

“We found the Pearblossom Motel;” Harry thought he saw the woman flinch at the name. “And then left it, to head for Odessa.”

“Are you suggesting we drive around in circles and see if they attack again?” Albert muttered.

“I think that’d be a little unfair to our passenger.” Harry turned to her: “Ma’am, I believe Albert when he says he knows you; but I also believe you when you say you don’t remember him. We can drop you anywhere you like— your call.”

“Give me a few minutes, fellas. Given all the weird shit I’ve just been through, I’ve got to think about whether I’m safer away from you two, or sticking close by. Plus I’ve got messages to check.” She took her phone out again. Without taking his eyes off the road, Albert pulled his own phone from his suit jacket, passing it to Harry:

“You’d better check mine. Maybe Tammy’s got some news—she’s been looking up everyone connected with events in Twin Peaks, but not living in the area. She even emailed some couple in Japan, though I’m still not sure what they’ve got to do with this.”

Harry peered at Albert’s phone screen, occasionally commenting if something looked to be of interest:

“Gordon’s sent a grudging OK, tells you to be careful. Also tells you to look after me. I’d always imagined he’d type in uppercase— didn’t realize it was him at first. Hm. Do you know a coroner?”

“I know lots of coroners, we get together for an annual poker tournament and lucky draw. And when I say draw…”

“Do you know a Dr. Talbot in Buckhorn?” Harry interrupted. “Autopsied a headless body last September that turned out to be Major— wait, he— is this one of those revised timeline things?”

“Not exactly.” Albert brought Harry up to date as best he could on Major Briggs’ disappearance and decades-later reappearance. “I certainly remember meeting Constance,” he added, after a pause, and cleared his throat again. “According to Tammy, I made a favourable impression on her, which is… unusual among my acquaintances, even those who share my profession. So what does she have to say?”

“Something about a wedding ring and Schrödinger’s Cat?” Harry looked at the message again. “She says Tammy spoke to her, and was going to contact you too… a gold ring they found on Briggs… sorry, in Briggs… keeps disappearing from her office’s records and the FBI’s evidence files, then coming back again?”

Albert frowned in thought as he drove: “Does it have anything engraved on it?” Harry tapped a message on the phone screen, CC-ing Constance and Tammy.

Outside the car, suburbs, or at least car dealerships and big-box stores, were beginning to sprout up along the highway.

Albert’s phone pinged and Harry read the message from Constance:

“Yes, scribbled it down last time I could find the record. This ring any (wedding) bells? TO DOUGIE, WITH LOVE, JANEY-E”

“Janey-E,” said Diane from the back seat, and Harry heard her drop her phone. Turning around he saw her wringing her hands, the nails now robin’s-egg blue. “Albert,” she gasped, “Oh, Albert, I was almost lost again.”

“I believe the change in method may have led to a breakthrough: I haven’t found any rooms leading off of the corridor I’m following, but the decor has gradually changed from black-and-white flooring and red curtains, to dark brown linoleum flooring and institutional green walls hung with large relief maps of different parts of the world. The maps appear to have been manufactured some time between 1954 and 1965, as they show North and South Vietnam as separate nations. I’m just passing the continent of Antarctica, now, and… oh. I think there might be…

Diane, I found the white room, and when I call it that, I’m not simply echoing Laura’s name for it. It was like a cross between a sanatorium and a snow cave, if a snow cave had furniture. There was a bed with white blankets and a white metal frame like a hospital bed. Audrey was sitting on one end of it, wrapped in a white bathrobe and looking at a round mirror that stood on a little white table. She turned as I entered, and her face was older, drawn and, for a moment, frightened. Then she looked at me again and relaxed, saying ‘Oh, it’s really you.’ I fear she must have met one of my nastier doppelgängers at some point.”

At Diane’s request, they stopped to eat at a fast-food chain before approaching the diner Coop had been investigating in at least one timeline.

“I’m hungry, but I’d be too nervous to eat at the place where Dale might have… well, if they’re a front for something, then the food’s either spectacular or terrible, and I’m not feeling lucky right now. I want to be someplace as bland and mundane as possible for a while, so I can regroup.”

“Well this place has a twenty-minute limit.” Albert jerked his thumb at the sign.

“That’ll do.” Diane curled up beside Harry in the booth as Albert went up to the counter to place their orders. She still wore her pencil skirt, but on on of their stops she’d purchased tennis shoes and a couple of fresh t-shirts— the one she was wearing at the moment read NOT TODAY in flowery letters. “Now he’s got two of us to worry about,” she said under her breath. Harry decided to reply:

“Someone needs to worry about him.” Diane nodded, and Harry offered his hand: “Sorry, we never did the proper introductions did we? Harry S. Truman.”

“I know.” Her expression relaxed slightly. “I see why he likes you.”

“Not sure Albert likes anybody, exactly—”

“That’s not who I was talking about.”

Albert returned with a eye-searingly-orange plastic tray:

“Mushroom burger, cheeseburger, buttered biscuit for you, Harry, because they can’t just serve toast like a real restaurant and those things they claim are bagels are made out of lies.”

“Don’t worry Albert, I’ll survive a biscuit.” Harry picked up one half of the baked item and took a bite. It wasn’t too bad, actually.

“Diane, the ring that jogged your memory—”

“My half-sister and her husband. Don’t ask me how they’d be mixed up in this though, Janey-E’s aggressively normal.”

“And her husband?”

“Never actually met him. Janey-E and I don’t talk much,” she explained. “But from her comments he’s… passively normal. Works for an insurance company, drinks too much sometimes, the whole man-in-the-gray-flannel-suit thing.”

“I’ve been talking with Audrey, or the version of her that existed in the white room. You’ll notice I use the past tense. Still sitting on the bed, she raised a finger and pointed to the mirror in front of her, saying:

‘The other me— she ran away from home, like she thought Laura had done. I’m amazed she survived her first year in the big city, but look:’

Diane, I saw Audrey searching records online, tailing suspects, testifying in civil and sometimes criminal courts. It’s a life that can make a cynic of the kindest soul, but there are situations the police don’t or can’t investigate, and those were— are, I suppose— Audrey’s bread and butter, in that mirror world. And they seem to pay well enough she can afford to do some pro bono cases.

‘I wish I were out there,’ she said, and the mirror clouded and shifted. She patted the bedspread, and I sat down beside her. ‘You know how,’ she began, ‘when you’re a kid, and you’re reading your favourite book, and a little after the halfway point, you start to think ‘I’m getting near the end of the book?’ And really, you’re not— there are pages and pages left of scenes and pictures. You’re always surprised just how much more there is. But it’s not enough to shake the feeling it’s putting off the inevitable. Dawdling before bedtime.’ She stood up suddenly, bent and kissed me on the brow. ‘Say hello to the other me, if you ever run into her.’ And then she was gone, Diane. Not in flame or fadeout, just gone.”

I look up, and Laura is beside me.

The diner, when they found it, was not what Harry’d pictured. Instead of a lonely Edward Hopper tableau, or a grimy spoon where toughs whispered to each other along the lunch counter and cast knowing glances in the direction of the men’s room, “Wispy Dreams Cafe” was a blandly cheerful donut shop, the logo rather obviously altered from that of a national chain.

“Looks like they’re under new management.” Diane observed as they got out of the car. “Or else they got tired of paying for the franchise?” The three of them made their way across the parking lot the cafe shared with the landscaping company next door. Inside, the sound of chattering customers and a hum from the coffee machine both soothed and overwhelmed. Harry steadied himself against a gleaming, cream-colored formica counter. The woman on the other side— not a fresh-faced high-school senior or a kindly-faced matron, just a woman with her hair in a ponytail and circles under her eyes, doing her best to smile— threw him a glance and Harry nodded.

“I’m ok. Albert, Diane, what do you two want?”

A couple of minutes later, they sat by the window, feigning interest in their donuts and coffee.

“Well, we’re living the cop cliché,” whispered Albert. “So, what do you think? Soulless suburban hangout, or den of villainy?”

Harry gingerly sipped the brew in his cardboard cup and eyed the other customers. You couldn’t say the place wasn’t busy; the woman at the counter had already served a family of four in the time it had taken Harry, Albert and Diane to seat themselves with their coffees, and another customer had just come in the door.

“That counter’s been installed recently. Deep-fat fryer’s been replaced too.”

“And they don’t know how to use it yet. You could wax skis with these donuts. That’s hardly a crime, though.” Diane looked around at the blue and yellow walls painted with large trompe l’oeil sprinkles. “Doesn’t seem to be anything else funny about the place— I hate to say it but this place might be legit.”

Harry watched the new customer lean in to the counter. Harry couldn’t quite make out what he was saying— presumably the man was placing his order, but it seemed to be taking a while and there was something tense in the woman’s expression. Beside him he heard Diane swear under her breath, and faster than he could turn his head, his peripheral vision took in that she was getting up. She strode towards the counter and Harry had a glimpse of the angry red scratch on her arm as he struggled to his feet.

Diane was leaning on the counter now, trying to insert herself between the customer and the worker.

“What did you just say to her?” she was asking.

“Look, I come in here all the time, we joke around. What makes you think it’s your fucking business?”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Harry loomed up behind the customer— he might have only half his usual strength but he was still a good six inches taller than the other man. Behind him, he guessed, Albert was approaching. Harry knew the agent was unwilling to use physical force and not exactly skilled at defusing situations through diplomacy, so he turned his gaze on the customer with all the quiet confidence he’d used as Sheriff. In his ear Diane hissed:

“It’s nothing to do with the case, this asshole’s just creeping on the staff.” She must’ve locked eyes with the man too, for he was staring at her now, his bland pink features shifting expression from anger to terrified fascination.

Rather an unimpressive face, thought Harry, and then, what’s Diane doing? He turned to look at her sharp, smiling profile, and saw a tear slide from her eye.

“No,” she said loudly and abruptly, and blinked hard. “Do you want us to escort him out?” she asked the woman behind the counter; but the man was already out the door and running for his car.

“Diane,” Harry whispered.

“Diane,” whispered Albert. Diane was passing one hand across her eyes.

“I could have fried him. Just now. Something wanted me to; but I just wanted him to back off.” She beamed at them as Albert held out an arm for her to steady herself. “I think I’m back to normal. Well, normal for me.”

“Are we the only two left here now?”

“I’m not even here anymore.”

“I don’t know how to get back to the waiting room.”

“It doesn’t matter, the coffee’s cold.”

Somehow, the white room has become even more featureless, despite that being both a logical and a grammatical impossibility. Only the bed, the table and Audrey’s mirror remain. A moment in the glass catches my eye, and I look to see— oh Diane, I’m so glad you escaped! I see you travelling with Albert, and… oh, Harry…

…the cafe’s fluorescent lights flickered as the background hum, noticeable since their arrival, now rose to an ear-splitting volume then died away just as suddenly. As the three of them looked on, an old-fashioned hospital bed, its steel frame painted white, materialized between the counter and the booths, replacing two unoccupied tables. At one end of it sat Agent Dale Cooper, fully dressed in his suit and tie, a look on his face of mild surprise that turned to the familiar joy as his gaze met theirs. Coop had grown older like the rest of them, sharper angles in his face, but he looked hale and well, and his eyes did not have the cruel gleam that chilled Harry’s memories of their last meeting.

“Harry,” he said, as though a quarter-century hadn’t passed. In response Harry silently doffed his cowboy hat, revealing his pallor, his naked scalp. Coop’s smiled wavered a little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered, and rose from the white bed. In the background, the cafe staff and patrons continued to chat and serve and drink and eat coffee and donuts as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on right in front of them. Albert made a hesitant noise in his throat and Coop raised his hand in that just a moment gesture he always used to make, and in that moment Harry knew his friend really was back from wherever he’d been all those years.

“Apologies for being brusque,” Coop said, “but there’s a family in Las Vegas who I’ve reason to believe are in danger right now—”

“Janey-E?” Diane asked.

“Right on the button. For personal reasons which I’ll explain later, I can’t get in touch with them myself. The Mitchell brothers might be able to help, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to recall of our last meeting.”

“Tammy and Constance are already on it.”

“Good,” Coop looked relieved, and Harry stepped forward, shaking a little in spite of himself, and as if the motion had at last given him permission, Coop sailed forward and embraced him— very gently, as if he feared Harry might break. He’s gauging by touch how much weight I’ve lost, thought Harry, but it’s all right. He’d forgotten how warm Coop was. He became aware of Albert and Diane joining in, arms circling his shoulders and Coop’s. If I died right here and now, it’d be all right.

But this embrace was not an epitaph, or an epilogue. Outside, somewhere else in the city, was an imitation of an ancient stone monument; and a copy of an old theatre where real audiences watched real actors. Somewhere the forces that had sent the dark cloud of grackles prepared another attack, and somewhere Tammy Preston was moving to protect Janey-E and Dougie Jones. Elsewhere Audrey Horne walked the mean streets and was not herself mean. This was an interlude, but let them have it for a while.

A couple of patrons turned their heads to smile at the reunion going in their midst.

#wonderfulxstrange #@laughingpineapple #twin peaks #@laughingpinecone

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

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Of All the Places

Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: It’s a new day and Loki meets the rest of your family. He begins to formulate a plan, but it’s derailed by your hospitality before it can even begin. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Alright, here we go. Chapter 2! Let me know what you think, and if anyone has any predictions they’d like to share, I would love to hear! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :) P.S. It’s spooky season! That has absolutely nothing to do with this fic, but it’s one of my favorite times of year

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki woke up feeling a lot more alert than he had the previous day. After convincing you that he had amnesia, he spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of slumber, assisting his rapidly healing body get better even faster. He got out of the bed and stretched his aching muscles before scanning the room with fresh eyes. It was even more bare than he had originally realized, but he could tell from patches of less faded paint and wood that there was a time when it wasn’t so sparsely decorated. He flipped a switch by the entrance and the lights came on, sending a surge of panic through him that had him running over to the TV. He let out a sigh of relief when it still did’t work. Though, perhaps that was just because he was so terrible at using Midgardian technology. He stilled for a second and heard a faint mechanical hum easily identified as a generator. The cable would be back sooner rather than later, he was sure, but from looking out the bedroom’s single window, Loki knew he was in the middle of nowhere and that the internet connection was probably spotty at best. With any luck, he would be fully healed in the next few hours and could take his leave.

As he worked on massaging out the remaining dull ache in his body, Loki’s eyes finally landed on a bright pink piece of paper left atop a pile of clothes. His eyes skipped to the bottom where the signature was and, seeing that it bore your name, he went back up to the top to read it. He tugged off his sweaty, bloody clothes and pulled on the ones you’d written were left for him. The material of the shirt was soft enough, but the sweatpants were dreadfully baggy for someone who preferred form-fitting clothes that displayed his physique. Certainly, though, you’d been thinking of the comfort level of what you believed to be a very injured mortal, so he tried to remain thankful. Loki folded up his old clothes and left them in the spot where his new ones had been moments ago.

Back at the window, Loki was once again trying to determine precisely where he was. Besides the landscape, your voice and that of your father’s provided some clues to the most likely locations. He still had to be in North America, he was sure, and though he suspected it was the United States, there wasn’t anything confirming it at the moment. Your father did have a slight twang to his voice, though, so it supported his theory that he was probably in one of the southern states. Other than that, all Loki could determine was that this was a farm; a nice remote farm where he could hide from his oaf of a brother and his new overly heroic friends.

Loki called out to the Tesseract, and it appeared in his hands. Such power for such a tiny object, he thought as he turned it over in his hand. The last time it rested in his palm, he’d not fully been himself. Even so much as looking at it made him feel a little queasy now as he thought of all the crimes he’d committed with it. For it. But when his life is on the line, Loki had learned, there is very little he’d not do to save himself. It was one similarity he shared with mortals that he’d rather not. It was also one of the few he’d actually admit were there. But, no, some mortals were righteous beings. He knew that, but had trouble separating those of a higher caliber from the rest of the species. He wondered what kind of mortal you were, before being pulled out of his musings by a delicious aroma. He debated for a minute before once again tucking the Tesseract away in its dimensional pocket and heading out of the room, down the stairs, towards the amazing scent coming from a lower floor.

“Not a thing,” he heard your voice ring out as he got closer.

“Or so he says,” responded an unfamiliar female voice.

When he rounded the corner he saw it belonged to a woman that must be your mother, or else your older doppelgänger because of how alike the two of you looked. Your dispositions, though, could not have been more different. The first person to notice him lurking half-in, half-out of the room was a small boy who pointed at him.

“New friend!” he cheered. “New friend!”

Such innocence as Loki had never known continuously amazed him. He feared he could be dangerous for this child, but he would be gone so soon that he wouldn’t even be a blip in the boy’s memory.

“I would very much like to be your friend, indeed,” Loki said, crouching down to the boy’s height as he toddled over. The adults in the room all shot each other glances, but no one moved to do anything. “And what might your name be?”

“I’m Matt. And I’m this many,” the child responded, proudly holding up four fingers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name is Loki.”

“How many are you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, far too many to count on fingers, little one. In fact, I am 1,047 years old,” he said, realizing that it would probably just be seen as a joke to amuse the boy, rather than a fact.

He laughed at Loki’s statement, but before he could reply, a woman that was presumably his mom called him over. “Don’t bother our guest right now, Matt. He’s still recovering,” she scolded.

“I assure you, it is completely fine, Mrs...?”

“Johnson. But, please, feel free to call me Ana. And this is my husband, John.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Loki charismatically said, though on the inside he was laughing at the name “John Johnson.” These mortals and their foolish names. “And I do believe we already met,” he added, turning to you.

“Yes, we did. You were so out of it I wasn’t quite sure you remembered. This is Mama,” you said, gesturing to the woman who Loki had correctly identified as your mother.

“Hello,” she drawled, fixing the god with an icy stare.

“Papa, did you hear? Loki’s awake,” you told the man walking out of the kitchen with a plate of light brown disks stacked high.

“Glad you’re up, son. Just in time for pancakes, too,” he said, immediately diffusing the tension brewing between Loki and Mama. “Come on, plop yourself down on a seat over here. You must be pooped, and I promise we don’t bite.”

Loki sauntered over to the chair Papa had gestured to and sat down. Feeling a fuzzy mass moving between his sprawled legs, he peered down and saw a grey-brown cat under the table. He’d never been one for pets, but the soft fur was comforting to his weary soul.

“Taffy,” you tsked at the feline before looking back up at Loki with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Do not worry, I am not. At least,” he added, remembering his lie from the day prior, “I do not remember that I am.”

Loki appraised your charming family in your quaint farmhouse, almost feeling bad to intrude. Though, he reminded himself, he’d be out of your hair before you knew it. Papa was the only one happily chattering on about this year’s harvest, oblivious to the tension at the table, or else ignoring it. The God of Mischief refocused on the plan he’d created this morning; he needed answers. You were seated beside him and, besides your father and nephew, the only one who didn’t seem wary of him. And you were really the only viable option as Loki didn’t want to get sucked into a conversation about the wheat crop with your father, and Matt was at the age where he was only vaguely aware he was on planet Earth.

“If you do not mind,” he started, turning to you, “I have a few questions.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, I’m such an idiot,” you said smacking your forehead. “Please, ask away.”

The way you immediately seemed to blame and degrade yourself reminded Loki of himself. The difference, however, was that you did it aloud while Loki kept it bottled up. Whose way was better, he didn’t know. Perhaps neither was really good.

“It is quite alright,” he reassured you. “To begin, where exactly are we?”

Apparently it was some hole in the wall in Oklahoma, so Loki had been fairly correct in his middle of nowhere assessment. Apparently, you weren’t outrageously far from Oklahoma City, though Loki felt it best he avoid cities for a little bit. The nearby town that your farm was technically a part of was a very close knit community, so you knew that wasn’t where he was from.

“I see,” he said, planning his next move. “And that is how far from New York?”

“Far. Why? Is that where you’re from?” you asked, getting excited for Loki that he might already be getting his memory back.

“I am not sure,” Loki lied. “I just seem to think that is where I was headed. Or coming from.”

“Maybe you were at some kind of convention,” John offered, tuning in to the conversation. “Aren’t those a big thing in New York City?”

“It would sure explain the clothes!” Papa added.

“Great. Let’s send him back there,” Mama said, already standing up like she intended to drive him there right at the moment.

“Mama,” you harshly whispered, hating how unwelcoming she was being.

“Maybe he was on vacation from England. He does have an accent,” Ana chimed in, hoping to prevent a fight.

“I am afraid that I do not remember,” Loki muttered.

He was thankful no one was even concerned about how he arrived here. There was something else, too. He was feeling uncharacteristically ashamed because of how helpful you all were being. Well, most of you were being, anyway. He reminded himself again that he would be gone within the hour.

“It’s ok,” you soothed. “Like I said yesterday, you can stay here for as long as you need. In fact, I insist that you do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Loki still planned to leave rather quickly, but the kind look in your eyes compelled him to stay for a little while longer. After all, it couldn’t hurt to think about his next move a bit more. If he were to use the Tesseract again, Heimdall would surely notice. So, he’d lie low for a while and then get off this accursed planet.

“Well if he’s going to be staying here, he better help out some,” Mama grumbled. “I won’t have any freeloaders on my farm.”

“Now now, honey,” Papa said, patting her hand. “He’s still injured, after all.”

“On the contrary, I would happy to help,” Loki interjected, shooting a charming smile at Mama. “I am feeling much better now.”

“See, Earl,” Mama said triumphantly. “He’s fine.”

Everyone else tried to fight on Loki’s behalf but, between him and Mama, it was a losing battle. Eventually, it was time to clean up from breakfast, and you took him away from the clattering of empty dishes to find him so work clothes. The trickster god got a much better look at the rest of the house while you led him higher and higher until you reached the attic. You hesitated a second before opening a box labeled “James’s Clothes.” As you gently picked up the shirt on top, Loki peered over your shoulder wondering who this stuff belonged to.

“My brother’s,” you began before he could ask, sensing the question on his tongue. “We were going to donate them anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mama before she sees you. I’d give you some of John’s things, or Papa’s even, but you know.”

Indeed, Loki did know. Though he was roughly the same height as both the men, he was much leaner than they were. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing he understood. Your little distracted speech left him with even more questions than before, but something in him was screaming not to push you, to think of someone else for once. So, all he said was thank you. After a quick pit stop in the room from the night before to change into the bundle of clothes you’d given him, Loki made his way back downstairs where yet another argument was taking place. He was certain that his arrival was causing more tension than normal. His mind briefly flitted to his own family. It all seemed so picturesque, once, but that time was long gone. His mother—or Queen Frigga, as he supposed he should start calling her—never changed. She was as kind and gentle as ever, yet still possessed this refined regality and power. In other words, she was the complete opposite of Mama, who turned on her heel and made a disgruntled sigh as she exited when Loki appeared.

“There ya are, son,” Papa greeted once she was gone. “We had an idea while you were up there. We should make you up a missing person ad. I’m sure someone’s bound to know who you are.”

There was that sickeningly Thor-esque optimism in Papa’s voice. Not to mention the nickname “son” which, for someone like Loki at least, was one of the worst thing he could be called. He did his best not to grimace.

“No thank you,” he replied, before continuing at the behest of your confused looks. “I certainly would not want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense. We just gotta find the camera,” Papa said, already moving past him.

Loki just sighed, deciding he’d find a way to stall later. When he finally looked back at you, your hands were clasped behind your back and you were nervously shifting your weight.

“In the meantime,” Loki began, picking up where he left off with your father, “why not show me what I may help with?”

You took him out to the chicken coop and taught him how to collect eggs. He supposed it made sense this was the task left for him considering you all still thought he was a fragile human. As you taught him, you prattled on about your life and your family. You mentioned how Mama met Papa, and how your sister met John, but nothing about your brother. Loki was on the verge of asking, but he didn’t want to make his time with you awkward. Even more than that, he didn’t want it to seem like he cared. No need to cause any extra pain when he inevitably left, right? Though your glittering eyes and stunning smile were working overtime to convince him otherwise.

“That’s all there is to it,” you said, finishing up your tutorial. “Any questions?”

“None at all. You are an excellent teacher.”

You two shared a laugh, and Loki was shocked by how easily conversation was flowing. Though, he let you do most of the talking, lest he reveal something that does not align with the rest of his story. All too soon, you had to leave to take care of your other chores. For a second, Loki felt as if he missed you already, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Just a week, he repeated in his mind as he gently placed eggs in the basket you’d given him. Just a week.

As he approached the farmhouse, he noticed a thick newspaper on the long driveway. He went over to examine it and, sure enough, he’d made the headlines. No clear photos of him attached, luckily, but the clothes were distinctive enough that you would recognize him for sure. Loki looked side to side before performing a quick spell to get rid of the paper. He headed back over to the house before anyone could notice him, ignoring the annoyingly persistent guilt bubbling within him.

“Just a week,” he muttered to himself again as he neared where you were on the front porch. “Just a week.”

But deep down, he already knew it would be much longer than that.

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

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Hope you enjoy the next lot of twists and turns coming up! :D

Charter 11: Past Prologue

Edinburgh, 2021

“I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything here…“ Ryan scanned the dressing room. It was a very neutral area. Barton was not the sort of person to make himself comfortable anywhere, particularly if it was just for the duration of a speech. “Not like he was here any length of time…“ Ryan’s eyes fell on the only item that wasn’t part of the furnishings. “Unless…“

“Forgot his jacket.“ Graham grinned and picked up the coat that had been flung over the side of an armchair. She reached into the pockets and quickly found what he was looking for: “Wallet.“ He announced, pleased with himself and opened it.

“Anything interesting?“ Ryan asked, looking over his grandfather’s shoulder, just as a business card fell out.

“Card…“ Graham picked it up and read: “Anastasis Project. Rings any bells?“ He turned it in his hand while Ryan gave a shrug. There was nothing else on the card apart from the name.

“Let’s meet up with the others.“ Ryan said, and they took the wallet and the coat with them.

“You didn’t follow him?“ Graham asked surprised when they found the rest of the team waiting outside.

“We’ve attached a transponder to his car but he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to see his contacts, quite the contrary, he’s going to be staying away and laying low.“ Jack explained.

“He’s certainly provided some kind of financial support, even if he’s not directly involved.“ Kate’s voice sounded in their ear-pieces.

“Let’s see where the money goes.“ Martha said and Ryan asked:

“Is there anything referring to an Anastasis Project in his portfolio?“ There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Meanwhile, they passed around the wallet and the business card.

“Not as such… but it seems like one of his research funds is supporting such a project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke at last. “Freelance. No direct ties.“

“Of course, so he can’t be made responsible for it.“ Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Do we have the address to an office or anything like that?“ Jack asked.

“There is a registered address, yes, probably fake though…“ Kate supplied, sounding doubtful.

“Still worth checking out.“ Ryan shrugged. It was better than returning to base with nothing. Whether they would have admitted it or not, being back in action made them realise how much they had missed it. Maybe they just weren’t made for the quiet life.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd century

“You lied to me.“ The Doctor growled at the Master. She took a couple of steps back, bringing some distance between herself and the two men. Her mind was reeling. She should have known better, she had been through it so many times. A little part of her had believed the Master would at least value the idea of a family enough to forgo a blatant lie. She had seen it when Missy had given her condolences upon learning of River’s death. The Master had always respected her relationship with River. It should have extended to their child. Or so she had hoped. Hope was so hard to resist. But in the end, the Master never failed to disappoint her.

“I did no such thing, I had no idea.“ The Master retorted and his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. He watched his doppelgänger, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on. They were identical, that was for sure but there was something unfamiliar about him too. His delight at the novelty of it had passed, now he required answers.

“Oh I see what’s happening, you're getting the wrong end of the stick here.“ The other Master grinned, clapping his hands joyfully. “See, I didn’t expect you to bring him.“ He carried on, gesturing to the Master. “I didn’t expect you, either, Doctor. Not this version of you. Last I saw you, you were so much younger… What happened to your little human friends? I really hope they died. Painfully. Not that he’s any better, mind, but I really hated those two… that mouthy med-tech and the do-gooder linguist… I should really have killed them when I had the chance…“ He carried on, and the Doctor couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. That part of her life had been lifetimes ago. Five lifetimes to be exact.

“What are you talking about?“ She asked, bewildered. She had met the Master so many times since then, when he had been posed as Harold Saxon, when he had been Missy…

“Oh, Doctor, do I have to spell it out for you? Is old age finally getting to you?“ He chuckled patronisingly, and the Doctor looked at the Master she had arrived with, wondering if he might have answers. He looked just as confused as she felt. “You don’t really think I’m the Master, do you? The Master!“ The other man cackled like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“Then who are you?“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. She hated feeling stupid.

“Your greatest enemy, of course.“ He took a dramatic bow which only served to infuriate the Master next to her more. His eyes flashed dangerously as recognition appeared to dawn on him.

“How did this happen?“ The Master took a threatening step towards the other man.

“What are you talking about?“ The Doctor frowned. Perhaps she had been wrong. There was something familiar about the other Master but the more she heard him speak, the less she believed her initial assessment. Something was very wrong here.

“I should have made sure you were dead last time around.“ The Master spat, baring his teeth at the other man whilst clearly contemplating how he would accomplish the feat again.

“Ah recognition at last. If that imbecile can figure it out, surely you can, Doctor. Has it really been so long for you that you don’t remember me anymore?“ The other Master smirked at the Doctor. “The fun we’ve had.“ He giggled, his voice changing slightly. “Gallifrey? The Crucible of Souls? Artron’s Tomb? You were there for that one, too.“ He winked at the Master.

“Spit it out already!“ The Doctor snapped as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Oh dear, you don’t have the same presence I used to have.“ The man’s voice changed and suddenly sounded an awful lot more familiar to the Doctor. “I’m frightfully hurt, old chum.“ His voice changed again, laughing and then he barked: “Can we just kill her already.“

“No.“ Colour drained from the Doctor’s face. They should be dead. She was sure of it.

“So what are you doing impersonating me?“ The Master cut in, having had enough of the exchange.

“Impersonating you? I think you’ll find I’ve had this face much longer than you! I wear it better too.“ The other man grinned. “Also, I don’t do impersonations anymore, not since… well, the Nine?“ He looked at the Doctor ravelling in the look of shock on her face. “Remember that, Doctor? I impersonated you and then you impersonated me, and that was just embarrassing.“ He laughed as the Doctor just shook her head incredulously.

“You’re lying. The Twelve died on Gallifrey.“ She was sure of it. The Twelve had died in an explosion, their body had never been recovered.

“Yes. I was there. I am the Thirteen.“ The Thirteen smirked, satisfied that finally, the penny seemed to have dropped.

“You can’t be, you are a future version of him.“ She pointed to the Master. Her experiences with the Eleven and the Twelve had been lifetimes ago. Thousands of years of her own life, before the Time War, there was no way he was here now. “I don’t know why I trusted you.“ She snapped at the Master next to her.

“Now that’s something you should never do.“ The Thirteen agreed, enjoying watching them bicker. They would be far easier to deal with if they weren’t working together.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you.“ The Master snarled at the Thirteen. “Believe what you will, Doctor, but do you not think you might be getting a little distracted from why we’re really here?“ His dark eyes darted around the room. They weren’t alone anymore. Soldiers were lining at the edges of the room, slowly advancing towards them. It was a trap. “Even if that is a future version of me, which I can assure you, it’s not…“

“The very thought…“ The Thirteen chuckled.

“Do you not have something to ask of the nice man here?“ The Master urged and the Doctor overcame her disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The Master had a point. They were here for a very good reason. Regardless of whether this man was the Thirteen, the Master or Rassilon himself, her question remained the same.

“Where is my son?“ The Doctor fixed her eyes on the Thirteen, her voice turning low and threatening. Enough of the games.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?“ The Thirteen feigned shock and grasped his chest. “Did you lose someone precious to you?“

“Whoever you are, you know something.“ The Doctor took a threatening step towards him.

“Well, he’s not here if that’s what you’re asking.“ The Thirteen gave a dismissive wave. “In fact, Doctor, I hadn’t really planned for this detour.“ He gestured around the room. “But it does get one thing out of the way…“

“What’s that?“ The Doctor shot back.

“You.“ the Thirteen grinned, and as if on cue the soldiers pointed their guns at her and the Master.

“Thanks for bringing her here, really, couldn’t have calculated it better myself.“ The Thirteen gave the Master a grin. “And just to be perfectly clear, Doctor, that we’re not the same person? I’ll have him killed, too.“ He glanced back to the Doctor who was looking around. The TARDIS was not far behind them. Was there time to turn and run? But if they ran, they wouldn’t find out what he knew.

“I will tear you limb from limb this time around.“ The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled killing the Eleven. It was a bit of a blur, too many of his past selves had been present, but he recalled the deed well enough to be sure it happened. This time, he would make sure he couldn’t regenerate.

“What was it you said last time we met about compassion?“ The Thirteen looked to the Master. “I distinctly remember your lady version saying you weren’t without it… Well, I am. Which is why I will win and you will lose.“ He smirked.

“Still think that’s me?“ The Master looked to the Doctor who was at a loss for words.

“I…“

“Any clever ideas, Doctor?“ The Master stepped closer to the Doctor as the guards advanced further.

“The Doctor and the Master, sitting in a trap, K I L L I N G.“ The Thirteen sang. “No, doesn’t really work.“ He huffed. “Open fire on my mark.“ He called his men.

“OI!“ A female voice called out and suddenly an explosion rocked them, and the hangar filled with smoke.

——

Demon’s Run, Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“Here we go…“ River mumbled, connecting one last cable, as the force field turned off. “You'll be a good boy now, okay?“ She mumbled and pressed a kiss to her son’s head. This wasn’t exactly the right environment for a newborn but she didn’t have a choice.

There was an explosion somewhere, and alarms started wailing.

“Sounds like it’s the right time to get out of here.“ River soothed her son as he started crying because of the noise. She held him close as she walked down the corridor. She had to find a way off this space station. Her best bet would be the hangar bay.

“Professor Song!“ A voice called behind her suddenly and River whipped around as it was familiar and welcome.

“Madame Vastra!“ River exclaimed as she spotted the lizard woman who was just climbing out of a maintenance hatch.

“You’re… alive…“ Vastra marvelled at seeing her like this. Not just a consciousness trapped on a data stick but alive and whole and with her son in her arms. The relief and joy Vastra felt in that moment overshadowed all past anguish up until this point.

“Courtesy of my captors.“ River answered with a smirk as she stepped closer while Vastra helped another woman out of the tight hatch who River hadn’t met before. She could only presume she was a friend at the obvious relief on her face, too.

“Are you okay? Both of you?“ The girl asked, straightening herself up next to Vastra, and River nodded. Perhaps getting off this rock wouldn’t be so difficult after all, now that the cavalry had arrived.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we tried…“ Vastra felt the overwhelming urge to make her apologies. She reached out and touched the little boy’s head, hoping to convey her deep regret for having failed to protect him.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, shall we chat later? And get out of here first?“ River gave her an encouraging smile. She didn’t blame her, how could she? Without knowing any details of what had happened, she knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax would have done their utmost to keep her child safe. If they had failed to do so it could only have been through overwhelming odds. And now they had come to their rescue. They were the most loyal of friends. “I imagine we will have company soon. I may have tripped some alarms when I broke out of my cell.“ River pointed out the flashing lights and sirens while she tried to calm her son down.

“This way. We have a ship.“ Vastra nodded in agreement, and they rushed down the corridor. They had no time to lose.

“Now, now, Melody, can’t leave you alone for two minutes.“ They came to an abrupt halt as Madame Kovarian, backed by numerous soldiers, appeared at the top of the corridor they were heading towards.

“Yaz, take the long way around, take her to our ship!“ Vastra pulled her sword from its sheath and grabbed a blaster with the other. “Now!“

“But what about…“ Yaz started protesting.

“I will buy you some time, go!“ Vastra insisted, staring down the guards that were advancing towards them.

“Vastra!“ River grabbed her friend’s arm. They had to get out of here, they had to run, but they should be doing it together. She could risk her son getting injured. As much as River wanted to fight and finally, finally put an end to Madame Kovarian, her mother's instincts gripped her more tightly. She had to keep her son safe.

“It’s okay, you two go and don’t look back! I will find Jenny and Strax, we will make our own way. NOW GO!“ Vastra insisted with steely determination.

“I will find a way to come back for you!“ River promised hastily.

“GO!“ Vastra snapped and Yaz grabbed River’s arm. There was no arguing with Vastra.

“Thank you.“ River breathed and allowed herself to be pulled along.

——

London, 2021

“Dead end.“ Jack huffed, looking around. They found themselves in front of an empty plot with nothing but a post box in a dodgy area of town. They hadn’t all been able to go. Edinburgh to London was quite the track so they had decided to split up. Mickey, Martha and Gwen had returned to the Torchwood hub while Jack had taken Ryan and Graham for a ride with his vortex manipulator. Three was the limit, despite various modifications. “Thought it might happen. Nothing but a company shell…“ Jack carried on as they walked onto the abandoned plot. There was a bit of rubble and grass but nothing much. It was wedged between two warehouses.

“But then why have the card?“ Ryan mused, turning it in his hand.

“Why indeed.“ A voice sounded and suddenly the three men found themselves surrounded by four thugs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What the…“ Jack reached for his gun but before he could do so, they each had one pointed at their heads.

“See, we might not be able to make you disappear easily but that doesn’t mean we make you disappear another way. You can be useful after all. We need some new subjects.“ One of the men grinned, and the Torchwood agents realised they had fallen into a trap.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd Century

It was utter chaos but the Doctor quickly figured out what was happening when he heard a familiar voice yelling:

“DIE ALIEN SCUM!“

“Strax?!“ The Doctor yelled through the smoke, ducking a laser blast, one of the few things visible in the smoke.

“Not to worry, Doctor, we’re here!“ Jenny called back and they found each other quickly, following the other’s voice.

“How did you get here?“ The Doctor asked surprised and delighted at once.

“Could ask you the same thing!“ Jenny retorted looking around not to get caught out. For the time being, Strax appeared to be doing an excellent job of dealing with the soldiers.

“We thought this might be where they’ve taken my son.“ The Doctor answered quickly.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely where they took your wife.“ Jenny replied quickly and pulled the Doctor behind a crate. She fired at two soldiers that emerged from the smoke dangerously close to them.

“My wife? River is here?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief. She was in shock, her words barely registered. How could River possibly be here?

“Her consciousness anyway. Some Timelord who calls himself the Thirteen stole it from the Library. We followed him here.“ Jenny carried on to explain.

“So it is him…“ The Doctor mumbled, trying to get things straight in her head.

“Told you, didn’t I, he’s not me!“ The Master found them behind the crate and took cover as well.

“Then why have you got the same face?“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“I don’t know, Doctor, do I, do you think I’m thrilled he’s running around giving me a bad name?“ The Master bit back just as angrily.

“You do that all by yourself, usually.“ She snapped back.

“And you are…“ Jenny was at a loss for a moment.

“The Master.“ The Doctor answered before he could.

“Right… well, this Thirteen fellow…“ Jenny decided not to comment for the time being. There had to be a good reason for why the Master was here, seemingly with the Doctor.

“Looks exactly like him, you can’t miss him. And we have to find him, I want some answers! And River…“ The Doctor looked out from behind the crate, most of the hangar was still shrouded in smoke.

“We will find her. Vastra and Yaz are looking for her as well. We will get both of them back.“ Jenny explained hastily.

“Touching reunion and all but perhaps we might deal with the more pressing issue at hand? The bomb will go off at any moment.“ The Master announced and instructed: “Everybody get down.“

“What?“ The Doctor looked back at him incredulous. She straightened up a little to glance over the top of the crate but the Master pulled her down.

“Duck!“ He snapped, just as an explosion shook the hangar deck. He had clearly been busy in the moments before rejoining them.

“What the…“ The Doctor shoved him off and stood quickly, assessing the damage. “Why did you do that?“ She shook her head in disbelief at the destruction in front of her. Half the hangar had blown up, emergency force fields had jumped into place where the hull had ripped away.

“How about a ‘thank you Master’?“ The Master scrambled to his feet and brushed off his suit. “I just laid waste to your enemies. It was fun too.“ He grinned.

“Excellent maneuverer, Sir.“ Strax came up behind them, and Jenny let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him. He could very well have been caught up in the Master’s explosion.

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.“ The Master huffed.

“It wasn’t necessary!“ The Doctor snapped, scanning the room. Most of the enemy soldiers were dead, some of the wounded tried to pull themselves up but they seemed to have lost the appetite for fighting. The Doctor quickly realised why: they were leaderless. “Where is he? Where is the Thirteen?“ She looked around, panicked. They couldn’t have lost him.

“Oh I hope I incinerated him… stealing my face, how dare he…“ The Master mumbled and the Doctor turned on her heels.

“I need him for answers!“ She snapped.

“Perhaps I can oblige.“ A voice called from the other end of the hangar and as they all looked around, they recognised Vastra and with her, being shoved along, Madame Kovarian.

“Vastra!“ Jenny called in relief and rushed over to her wife.

“Madame Kovarian…“ The Doctor’s response was more measured as she narrowed her eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me, a new face.“ Kovarian gave the Doctor a once-over and groaned in annoyance. It was bad enough to have her men bested by a lizard woman, this was adding insult to injury. The Doctor came to meet them halfway as Jenny flung herself around her wife’s neck.

“I should have known you were involved.“ The Doctor clenched her jaw, trying her best not to let her feelings overwhelm her. Instead, she decided to focus on the important questions: “Where is River? Where are you keeping her consciousness?“

“She escaped in our shuttle.“ Vastra cut in, letting go of Jenny at last.

“What?“ The Doctor looked at her confused.

“They’re gone, they got away. And it’s not just her consciousness either, they brought her body back, too.“ Vastra explained more patiently. She smiled contently, River would be safe now.

“Really?“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. A wide grin spread across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She tried not to let herself get swept away in the excitement, keep a level head until she had actually seen River and made sure that she was okay. But she trusted Vastra and she would never doubt her. River was alive. The reality of it still had to sink in.

“Yaz took her back to our shuttle while I was dealing with them.“ Vastra continued. “And your son, too, Doctor.“ She added more softly.

“He’s here, too?“ Tears of joy jumped to the Doctor’s eyes.

“Oh Doctor, you just keep falling for the same trick, don’t you.“ Kovarian cut in, a cruel smile creeping onto her features.

——

Dorium’s Shuttle, 52nd Century

River collapsed against the bulkhead, cradling her son to her chest. Her hearts were racing in her chest, she tried to catch her breath. They had done it.

“Dorium…“ She gasped a greeting but managed a small smile, despite her exhaustion.

“Nice to see you in one piece, Professor, and in the flesh too, pardon the pun.“ Dorium mirrored her fond expression. He had been sat waiting, unable to do anything to help and it was a relief to see they were being successful.

“We can’t stay, Dorium, Vastra said to go, they will find their own way later.“ Yaz explained as she joined them on the bridge. “We need to get the Professor and her child to safety.“

“Certainly.“ Dorium agreed. “Where to, Professor?“

“Luna University, all my things are there.“ River answered after brief consideration and Yaz nodded, working the controls with Dorium’s help. As soon as the air corridor had detached from Demon’s Run and wheeled in, they set off with a jerk, putting distance between the space station and themselves.

“Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, looking at River who had settled in a chair with her child.

“Getting there…“ River sighed. “I’m sorry, I barely caught your name?“

“Yasmin Khan, friends call me Yaz.“ Yaz answered with a smile, watching her rock her son.

“You’re a friend of the Doctor’s?“ River deduced and she nodded.

“And you’re her wife. And mother to her child.“ Yaz smiled.

“Her?“ River raised her eyebrows, surprised. “My, things have changed… how long have I been in that Library for?“ She shook her head to herself.

“Miss Khan, if you could be so kind and jump us into hyper speed, there is only so much a head can do.“ Dorium said. “I will be very glad if I never have to see Demon’s Run ever again.“

“Likewise.“ River chuckled and Yaz turned back to the controls:

“My pleasure.“

It happened as the stars blurred outside and River screamed. The connection severed. Her son disappeared from her arms, dissolving into a white substance, dripping onto the floor. A flesh avatar.

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hope-to-hell · 4 years ago

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A Possession, part two: Separation. August Walker x Henry Cavill. Warnings for the entire fic: possession, dubcon (possession-related; our hero never asked for this), mentions of past torture (prior to story events), some degradation, praise kink. Roughly 6k words altogether. Section heading titles largely pulled from whatever music I was listening to at the time. Part one is here, part three is here

—-

“Let’s talk about spaceships, or anything except you and me. Ok?”

—Say Hi

—-

“What is this?”

You are nowhere at all. Everything is white and featureless, stretching off into infinity.

This, er, wasn’t supposed to happen. Not exactly.

“Ok. Ok. Just, what happened? The last thing I remember is—“ it’s still too embarrassing to say. But you’re thinking about it, and he knows. You can see it in his face. His.

Wait.

What?

“You, uh, I can see you.” Oh that’s really smooth. It’s strange, more than you’d expect even given that your asshole doppelgänger who, until now has possessed you and even fucked you from the inside out, is currently standing in front of you. He’s just watching, with an expression you can’t quite parse. And you realize with a shock, he’s not quite what you pictured, is he?

Sure, you could be identical twins. Same eyes, same bone structure, same stubborn curls. But he has marks you don’t remember giving him, either in the makeup chair or your imagination. His face is scarred but it looks faded. Revised, like he’s spent time under the knife. There’s a thick, knotted scar crawling up from under his collar. And his hands, Christ, his hands.

What, you didn’t know? After all that?

“That wasn’t the only time, was it?” It’s, fuck. It’s too much. One memory of one day was enough to take you to pieces, and you only got it secondhand. To live it? More than once? God, no wonder he’s so fucked up.

Such an asshole, you mean. I can still hear you, you know.

He tucks his hands in his pockets, looms somehow taller. Doesn’t matter. Now knock it off, I am trying to figure out what to do.

He paces, gaze fixed on some point in the distance. There’s someone there, stomping along in too-big robes, dragging some sort of sickle (scythe? You were never clear on the difference) like it’s personally offended them. When they’re within complaining distance you hear a stream of muttered curses. Can’t fucking believe it. Idiot doesn’t stay dead anywhere, does he? And who do they send to sort this shit out? Me. Unbelievable.

He’s on you without warning. His hands fist in your hair, face close enough that you catch the nearly imperceptible twitch when he closes his fingers. Listen to me. Listen to me. If she takes me I will die. Do you want that on your conscience?

Life would definitely be simpler without him. You could go back to the way things were, when August Walker was just a character you’d played once. But he knows what you’re thinking, and the hurt is clear on his face. And you just, you can’t. Even for a murderer, even for an asshole like him, you can’t condemn him to death. And so when the strange reaper stops and raises her scythe (or sickle, whatever), you step between them and almost apologetically say, “Please. Don’t.”

She lowers the scythe and gives you a look. Sighs a sepulchral little sigh. He can’t stay in you. You both don’t fit.

She sees your face, then, the kicked-puppy expression that is so much more effective for the way it contrasts with your bulk. She sighs again, wearily, as though she’s making a choice between a root canal or an extraction.

Oh they do not pay me enough for this. Fine. Look. I can pull a few strings, maybe get you into separate bodies at least. But he’s dead, technically, so he’s feeding off your life. If he gets too far away, that’ll be it for him. Now get out of here before I change my mind.

The nothingness you’re standing on becomes the nothingness you fall through, so fast you can’t catch a breath. You see cliffs, maybe. Birds that gyre in strange patterns. Everything hurts, all at once, like your insides are attached to a parachute and someone’s just pulled the ripcord. You fall, and cry, and hear her voice. Don’t say I never did anything for you. But don’t complain to me if you don’t like how this turns out.

You wake, somehow, on your living room carpet, face pressed into its faded roses. Everything hurts and there’s a whisper at the back of your mind that says danger. danger. someone is here. Scarred bare feet cross your vision. He crouches, forearms braced across his thighs, and smirks. Hey. Welcome back. Did you miss me?

—-

Ten-foot pole (do you mind)

—-

Ten feet. Ten feet is exactly how far apart you can get before he drops to the ground, writhing and howling (well, to any reasonable person it’s a shade over three meters, but when you told him that he’d given you the finger from where he lay panting on the carpet). So you’re careful to stay within ten feet, but you’re also careful not to touch him. It’s just too damn weird.

Ten feet. Far enough to eat at opposite ends of the table. Far enough for one of you to shower while the other sits on the closed toilet lid and plays angry birds (you) or furiously googles “how to break curse. Body snatching techniques. Reverse body snatching. How to undo exorcism. Alcoholic Baja freeze recipe. Mail order tequila. Nearest liquor store.”

Bedtime is going to be an issue. There is simply no way to get him into a guest bed, or one of you on the couch, without putting him too far away. And neither one of you is about to sleep on the floor, so sharing it is. And you’d offered him some clothes to sleep in, you really did, but he’d just let the towel drop and climbed into bed while you tried so hard not to goggle at him.

It’s just, it’s extremely weird seeing your own face and body on someone else. There are differences, though. Most obviously, the scars. But aside from that, there’s a peculiar hardness to him you doubt could be mimicked just by time at the gym. Every twitch, every flex of muscle seems purposeful. Calculated. And you really, really shouldn’t be thinking about what he’d feel like. About how he’s big enough, strong enough, you enough to take you to pieces. How he’s already been inside you, how he hijacked your nerves to light you up from the inside out.

Fuck, this is mortifying. He’s right there in the bed, so close, so naked, and here you are fantasizing about him, aren’t you? After everything that’s happened, hell, probably because of everything that’s happened, you’re here in bed nursing a semi and praying he doesn’t notice.

Of course he notices. Why wouldn’t he? He notices, and he tucks a hand behind his head, shifts the blanket down just short of indecency. The asshole is showing off, and the worst part is it’s working on you. If he reached for you, fuck, you know you’d let him do anything he wanted. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if it’s bad, and wrong, and the bastard possessed you.

“Even good boys deserve to take what they want sometimes.” He’s watching in the semidark, smirking a little like he hears your thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind.” He turns his face toward the ceiling, scratches lightly through the hair on his belly. You turn from him with a huff, fisting your hands in the sheets, so hard now that it hurts. You won’t, you can’t.

He hmms in the bed beside you, resonant and low. Fuck. You’re going to, aren’t you.

#henry cavill #august walker #my fic #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #august walker x henry cavill smut #august walker x henry cavill #august walker fic #august walker smut #henry cavill fic #henry cavill smut

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julieandthephantomsblogduh · 4 years ago

Text

Wake Up - Episode One, Part Two

DISCLAIMER - I don’t any of these characters except for Liv Patterson. Also please don’t take credit for something that you didn’t write. The songs mentioned here will be linked down below. Please stay safe ya’ll. Love you guys and just be kind.

Los Angeles, 2020 - Los Feliz High School

Teenagers walk out of their classrooms heading towards their lockers and next periods. A teenage girl clearly avoiding all human beings walks amidst the crowds towards her locker opening it.

“Hey Underachiever”

The girl looks towards the friend standing beside her, smiling, “Hey disappointment, hey good-for-nothing”

“Hey you guys” Lia smirks leaning against the lockers.

“Okay,” Flynn says, “I know you don’t want me to ask you this but have you figured out whatcha gonna do today?”

“I’ll know in the moment” Julie shrugs off.

“Seriously girl?” Lia asks, “That really all you're giving us?”

“You know what Ms. Harrison said right… this is your last chance,” Flynn says

“I know” Julie replies looking at the other girls, “I was there.”

“See you at the rally,” The girls turn to find Carrie walking around handing out flyers.

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” Flynn asks.

“Umm desperation” Julie says.

“Ha”

Carrie walks up towards the trio, “Here you go” she says passing them all flyers, “My groups performing at the spirit rally tomorrow! I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do.”

“Huh, nothings way better than having to watching you Carrie.” Lia snarks

Flynn, quickly adds on, “OMG Carrie thanks.”

“Oh My God Malia, Flynn,” Carrie retorts, playing with her necklace, “Don’t bother coming!”

Carrie sashays away. Flynn crumples up the flyers, while Lia sticks her tongue out behind Carrie. Julie smiles watching Nick lean against a pole.

“Nick?” Flynn asks exasperated, “Still girl, you KNOW they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Yeah but Nick’s a sweetheart”

“Huh” Lia scoffs, “A sweetheart dating a demon. How ironic.”

“And you’d actually have to talk to him to know that… and remember…” Flynn says, “only one of them have to be a demon to have a demon baby… DEMON” Flynn yells towards Carrie.

“Yes girl!” Lia laughs high-fiving Flynn as the girls quickly look away from Carrie.

“Now there’s that smile,” Flynn says to Julie, “Let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

The girls leave the lockers and enter their music class, taking a seat next to each other

“Nice job Nick,” Ms Harrison tells him as he finishes up his guitar solo, “Almost as good as your game against Glendale. Okay we have one last performance, Julie?”

Julie slowly gets up from her seat and makes her way towards the grand piano.

“Yass Julie! Let’s go my Queen” Lia yells from her chair as Flynn smiles towards Julie giving her an encouraging look. Ms. Harrison spares Lia a look making her sulk down her chair smirking. Julie slowly sits down.

“Take your time” Ms. Harrison tells her.

Julie’s hands hover above the keys for a moment, and slowly stands up. Lia and Flynn share a look and stand up too, “I’m sorry…”

“Is this when we clap?” Carrie says.

Julie runs out and Liv and Flynn are right on her toes, Lia bumping into Carrie on her way out, “Watch it Carrie.”

Julie’s home - after school

“Oh good you’re home,” Julie’s dad walks down the stairs towards Julie and Lia as they study together, “I was about to go watch your brother’s game, Hi Lia.”

“Hi Mr. Molina! How you doing?”

“I’ve had photoshoots all day. Didn’t even get a chance to eat, but I got a phone call today.”

Julie looks over at Lia across the table and back towards her dad, “Yeah I figured as much.”

“Yeah, well it was my realtor friend…”

“Oh!” Julie smiles towards Lia, and glances back at her dad, “That.”

“Yeah and she says if we’re serious about selling the house then she wants me to take some pictures, for the websites. Which means we have to do a lot of cleaning and get rid of some stuff… and maybe you can… tackle mum’s studio?”

Lia watches Julie’s face fall and catches eye contact with Mr. Molina, “You’re the expert… your brother and I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s okay honey if your not ready I can…”

“No,” Julie looks up at Lia then at her dad, “It’s alright. Maybe i’ll try tonight.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Molina gets up, “yeah awesome yeah, thank you and don’t forget the loft. You know those old instruments that were there when we moved in? They need a new home.” Mr. Molina gets up.

“Mum would like that.”

“Yeah she would… Oh god I’m gonna be late,” he starts reaching in his pockets trying to find his keys.

“Under the mail”

“Your a life saver”

“Bye Mr. Molina”

“Bye Lia”

Later at night, Julie and Lia walk down to the studio

“You’re sure you’re up for this, we can turn back right now,” Lia asks standing at the door with her hand on the handle.

“Yeah… I think I need to”

“Alright,” Lia slowly opens the doors, “After you ma’am.”

Julie walks over to the light switch, flipping it. She slowly makes her way towards the grand piano and sits down. Lia slowly puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry mum,” Julie starts, looking up, “That I haven’t been in here…”

After a moment of silence, Lia breaks the moment up, “C’mon Jules, lets go check the loft.”

Julie climbs to the top while Lia spots her from the bottom. “Hey look at this,” Julie makes her way back down, “It’s some sort of CD?”

“C’mon lets play it”

The girls take a seat, bopping along to the 90’s rock song.

1, 2, 3!

Take off, last stop

Countdown till we blast open the top

Face first, full charge

Electric hammer to the heart…

Woosh

“AHHHHHHHHH…”

“What the hell is,” Lia turns from looking at Jules to in front of her, “That…”

“AHHHHHHHHH”

THUD

Three boys literally fall out of the sky, like literally. Julie and Lia stand up and look at each other.

Groans and other pain-filled noises

The boys slowly start to get up, all out of breath but still looking fly. “Ohhh… woah! How did we get back here,” the cute middle one says.

Julie and Lia look at each other and back at the boys, “AHHHHHHHHHHA”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” the boys all huddle together, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

Lia grabs Julie’s hand as everybody continues screaming and drags her towards the house . They run into Carlos and Mr. Molina in the driveway.

“Woah wait slow down guys,” Mr. Molina grabs onto Julie, “You’ve look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“We did!”

“Cool!” Carlos chimes.

“Not cool”

“C’MON!”

Julie runs away pulling Lia behind her, dragging her up the stairs and into her bedroom shutting the door all while screaming, “AHHHHHHHHH”

“Omg girl please stop screaming,” Lia begs, as Julie texts Flynn 9-1-1 on their group chat.

“C’mon Flynn, 9-1-1 means 9-1-1!” Julie cries.

“Okay lets all just take a breath, ghosts don’t exist right, those were just three boys who like broke into the studio, yeah they broke into a studio by… popping outta nowhere, Oh my god I’m going crazy I…” Lia rambles on as Mr. Molina knows on Julie’s bedroom door, poking his head into the room, “Hey”

“Ah… dad”

“Hey just wanted to make sure you’re okay”

“And that’s my cue to leave, I’ll be downstairs” Lia says, walking out.

“You don’t believe me do you dad?”

“Honey, of course I do I see your mum all the time”

“This isn’t like that”

“I know it’s different for all of us”

“Dad… you’re not listening to me… I SAW something out there,” Julie grabs onto her dad pointing towards the shed.

“Alright, okay okay,” He takes a seat, “I’m listening.”

“Tell me what you saw, it’s just you and me here”

“You sound just like Dr. Turner”

“Well maybe seeing Dr. Turner again isn’t such a bad idea”

“DAD,” Julie takes a pause, “Can we just drop it?”

‘Alright, dropped,” he slowly gets up sticking out his finger, “We good?”

“Yeah,” Julie smiles, crossing her finger with his “We’re good.”

As soon as he leaves Julie slowly creeps towards the window as Lia rushes back into the room. Lia peers over Julie's shoulder, “We’re going back aren’t we?”

“Duh”

“Okay fine,” Lia rolls her eyes, “We clearly need to watch more horror movies, but this time,” Lia looks towards the wall, “We go in prepared.”

Back at the garage

Julie walks in first with a cross in front of her as Lia slowly makes her way beside her, looking for, well three ghosts.

“Are you still here?” Julie questions as Lia glances around, “Whatever you are…”

They look around the room and when they don’t find anything, Julie drops her hands to her sides.

“See, nothing,” Lia says walking towards the middle of the room, “we clearly just imagined that whole thing”

“No, I know I’m not crazy!”

Woosh

“Well we’re all a little crazy”

Julie and Lia turn to face each other, “Ahhhh,” Julie sticks the cross in front of them.

“OH My…” The pink sweater ghost pleads, “Please stop screaming!”

Lia slowly puts her arms around Julie pulling her back “Well who are you?”

“YEAH,” Julie continues, “And what are you doing in my mum’s studio?”

“Your mum’s studio?” The boy with the very Zac Efron haircut asks, walking around the girls as they follow him with their eyes, “This is OUR studio,” he protests as he slides across the grand piano, “Okay trust me fine, yes the grand piano is new and, and… and… MY COUCH!” The boy jumps onto the leather couch sitting against the wall. Lia slowly pulls Julie closer to her.

“But that is definitely not my six string…” he looks around and slowly backs up back to his friends, “Can you give me just one second? Just give me a second. Thank you.”

Lia and Julie slowly separate as the boys huddle in front of them.

“What is going on?” He whispers, “How did they get their stuff in here so fast?”

“Maybe… just maybe,” the boy in the leather jacket inputs, “Maybe they are witches. There’s chairs floating in the ceiling.”

“Okay there is no such thing as witches,” The dude in the pink sweater retorts while the Zac Efron doppelgänger looks around.

“You sure? Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!” “Huh that’s fair”

“Okay so,” Efron says, “We’re going with witch?”

“No we are not going with witch. They are not witches. Look they’re just scared.”

Lia and Julie look at each other very, very confused. The pink sweater guy slowly walks up to them, “Why are you in out studio!”

Julie goes to punch the dude with her cross but her hand goes through the boy. “Okay c’mon,” Lia slowly pulls Julie away, “How did you do that!”

“Okay clearly they don’t understand what’s going on,” the boy murmurs, “Okay look…” he starts, “We’re ghosts… alright we’re just three ghosts and we’re really happy to be home,” Lia gives Julie a side glance, “Soo… thank you for the flowers, they really brighten up the room.”

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” the Efron boy starts.

“Tell your friends,” Leather boy smirks.

“Last night was supposed to be a really big night for us. It was gonna change our lives.”

“Umm I’m,” The sweater boy says, “I’m pretty sure it did.”

“This is freaking me out!” Julie pulls out her phone, Lia slowly pulls Julie closer to her, and pulls Julie’s cross back in front of them.

“Umm what is that,” Efron boy asks, pointing at Julie’s phone while the boys look kinda confused, “Uh what are you doin.”

“It’s her phone,” Lia says.

“Stop talking to them Lia,” Julie interrupts, “They aren’t real. There's no such thing as cute ghosts.”

“Oh so,” the leather boy steps up, smirking, “You think we’re cute?”

“Seriously dude!” Lia exclaims.

“Soo…” Pink sweater leans over, “Who you calling.”

“I’m googling sunset swerve.”

“SUNSET CURVE!” The boys say synchronized.

Lia rolls her eyes, as she looks over Julie’s shoulder.

“Whoa there is a sunset curve,” Julie looks from Lia to the boys, “You did die… but not last night… 25 years ago?”

Lia grabs onto Julie’s shoulder tighter as the boys protest, “25 years ago? No. No. No. That’s impossible,” Leather boy starts, “After we floated out of the ambulance all we did was go to that weird dark room where Alex,” He points to sweater dude, “Cried.”

“WELLL,” Alex squeals, “I don’t think I… I think we were all pretty upset… okay”

“But that was just for like an hour,” Efron boy starts, “We just showed up here.”

“Look,” Julie shows them her phone, “I’m just telling you what my phone says. See, you died in 1995,” Julie glances back at Lia, “When you were seventeen - it’s now 2020.”

“So we’re in the future?” Leather dude asks.

“Wait so,” Alex asks, “It has been 25 years? I have been CRYING for 25 years? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!”

“Well you’re a very emotional person,” Leather boy starts.

“I am not!” Alex protests.

“Thought you were afraid to come out here?” Carlos walks in, “Talking to your ghost friend? How does he look? Is he hideous?”

“Huh he can see you,” Alex says to leather boy.

“No” Lia interrupts, “No he can’t”

“What?”

“Ahh what do you want Carlos?” Julie asks.

“A normal sister for starters, dad’s calling you for dinner. He said you could stay too if you wanted to Malia. Stop being weird and come eat.”

“He couldn’t see you…” Julie starts, glancing back at Lia.

“I mean yeah that’s… ” Alex starts, “Usually how ghosts work?”

“Look…” Julie starts, dragging Lia behind her and towards the doors, “I’m very sorry about what happened to you guys but you have to leave.”

“But wait we,” the Efron boy starts, “We didn’t get your guy’s names.”

“I’m Lia,” Lia says, “She’s Julie.”

“Cool, I’m Luke… ” Efron Boy starts, coming closer. Julie pulls out the cross again and Lia grips onto her, “by the way… and this is…”

“Reggie,” leather boy says, “Reggie. I’m Reggie, hey.”

“And Alex, how’s it going.”

“Ba dah”

“I… I need to leave, I’ll see you tomorrow Jules… I just. I have to go home,” Lia stutters as she runs out of the shed.

“Lia!” Julie says as the boys look on curiously, “Okay?”

Julie walks out leaving the boys behind.

“They seem nice,” Reggie says.

“Did you miss the part where Julie kicked us out…” Alex asks, “Yeah? Ok.”

Lia’s Perspective - After walking out

I’m so confused like what is happening. Mum and dad don’t talk about him much but it has to be him right? In a rock band. Died in 1995 - when he was seventeen. I’m so confused. It would make sense right? Being able to see my brother and his band mates. But he doesn’t know who I am. Or that I even exist! And how could Julie see them too, but Carlos couldn’t. My entire life had been hindered by someone I had never met and today I met him.

“Ugh this is so frustrating!”

Come on Malia Patterson, pull it together.

Once I get home I say hi to mum and dad and head straight upstairs. Instead of heading back into my room, I walk down the hall towards the bedroom that was always closed. A room that held many memories, many I will never know and some that I created.

Dad wasn’t home yet and I had been playing with my small guitar in my room. It wasn’t very good but I was only six. I had been writing a song and I wanted to show my mum. I wandered out of my bedroom and called out for her.

“Momma! MOMMA?”

I saw the door that was always closed open. Mommy always told me to not go in there alone. I slowly crept up towards the door and found momma sitting on the bed with tears falling down her face.

“Momma? Momma why are you sad?”

“Ohh… my sweetie, come here.”

Slowly I walked in and looked around. Walls covered with posters and a worn out acoustic guitar on the wall. Slowly I crawled onto the bed and touched my momma’s face.

“Momma why are you sad? Why are you crying?”

“Ohh I just miss your brother.”

“Momma why did he go away. Why can’t he come home?”

“Oh baby. Your brother is somewhere else. Somewhere happy. We want him to be happy right?”

“Yes momma. But I want you to be happy to!”

“Sweetheart...”

“Mommy I wrote a song, do you want to hear it? Maybe it can make you happy. And maybe Luke can listen to it and be happy too!”

My mum gently brought me onto her lap.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t know.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Daddy!”

He came and sat with us on the bed.

“Malia was just going to play something”

“Yeah mommy, are you ready”

I jumped off her lap and started playing the song I wrote. That moment is one I don’t think I’ll ever forget. My high pitched screech going along with the untuned music from my guitar. The regret and remorse on my mother and the wet tears against my dad's eyes. I tried so hard to make them smile and I promised that one day I’ll make them happy no matter what it took - I promised to bring Luke back to them.

I chuckle to myself. I slowly open the door and walk in, closing the door behind me and flipping on the light switch. That moment was 10 years ago. After Luke’s death they had never come into this room until i was born and became curious about why this door was always closed. They never let me listen to rock music or listen to Luke’s music. Literally they’ve blocked the work rock from all my devices. Still, I would come hear and just take in the rock posters and listen to the few tapes left behind. I slowly reach for the guitar that I used to sneak into the room to play with. After I hit a certain age, mum took away my tiny guitar and would not let me play any “rock” instruments. Unfortunately for her I took after my big brother a little too much. She always used to say she couldn’t take the idea of losing another child. Sitting on the bed I quickly tune it and strum the worn out strings. Slowly I started playing that song I made all those years ago.

I’m sorry I can't be who

You’ve wanted me to be

I always tried to make you smile

But I’ll never be

Able to make you feel like he did

I’ll try my best to make you smile

And never cry again

But if you ever get sad

I promise to

Come and sing this song to you

Cause every time your tears fall

My heart breaks a bit

Cause I will never be able to

Make you smile like he did

I smile to myself, a little chuckle coming out as I gently place the guitar on the bed beside me, and lay down on my back. Is it possible that If I could see him, mum and dad could too? This whole thing is so confusing. And surreal. I met my brother. My big brother. My big brother who doesn’t even know I exist. I wonder what he’s like. Dad always said I reminded them of him so much, it hurt. I wonder how alike we really are. As my thoughts overrun my brain, I slowly close my eyes, thinking about how I could finally bring Luke back home to mum and dad and make them smile again.

The Next Morning - The Molina Household

Julie headed to the studio before Lia would pick her up to head for school. Yesterday had been a hard day for Julie but it must have been confusing as hell for Lia too. Julie wished her mum was around right now to talk to. She would have known what to do.

“Guys?” Julie asks, looking around the studio, “Guys?”

She slowly walks towards the grand piano, touching the words her mum had written. Julie lays them out in front of her and hovers her hand above the keys. Her hand slowly trembles as she starts to play.

Here's one thing I want you to know

You got some place to go

Life's a test, yes, but you go toe-to-toe

You don't give up, no, you grow

And you use your pain

'Cause it makes you you

Though I wish I could hold you through it

I know it's not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it

So get up, get out relight that spark

You know the rest by heart

Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look down, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice to the rain

The sunlight slowly streams through the window, almost as if Julie’s mum was hugging her

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up

Mr. Molina smiles, hearing his daughter sing again for the first time in a year

Better wake those demons

Just look them in the eye

No reason not to try

Life can be a mess

I won't let it cloud my mind

I'll let my fingers fly

And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me

And I'm ready to power through it

Gonna find the strength, find the melody

'Cause you showed me how to do it

Lia makes her way towards the shed and pauses at the sound of Julie as a tear falls from her eye

Get up, get out relight that spark

You know the rest by heart

Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look down, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice to the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up

Carlos stands outside, smiling, happy that he’s got his sister back

So, wake that spirit, spirit

I wanna hear it, hear it

No need to fear it you're not alone

You're gonna find your way, oh

Julie stands up, feeling the music and passion running through her veins as she sings her heart out

Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look down, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice to the rain

Luke, Alex and Reggie whoosh in behind Julie and look on with admiration, empathy and betrayal

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

When you feel lost

Relight that spark time to come out of the dark

Wake up, mm, wake up

Julie slowly sits down, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding onto. She reaches for the sheet music to see her mum had written, ‘Julie you can do it, Love Mum” She holds onto it as tears fall from her face as she looks up to the sky. The boys whoosh outside just as Lia comes in. She see’s Julie, takes a seat beside her and just holds onto her.

*this GIF is not mine cause I literally do not know how to make GIFS... it is however made by @juliecurve so thank you for that

Now or Never. Performed by Sunset Curve

Wake Up. Performed by Maddison Reyes

*the other song is just made up of lyrics I actually wrote when I was eight like I legit found it in my notebook so I apologize I might change it in the future but for now these lyrics are important to our character Liv and they MIGHT give an insight to who she is as a human being

ALSO lemme know if you want me to write all the parts in the show (like scenes that don’t involve Lia - like would you have liked me to write Julie talking to the boys about her mum even though Lia wasn’t there - you can just message me about this or write it down below if you wanna see me do that)

Again love y’all. Stay safe, be kind. Oh and tell your friends 😉

#jatp fanfic #JATP #Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms imagine #luke patterson #Julie Molina #juliexluke #Julie and the phantoms rewrite #Luke Patterson!sister

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