#crossing my fingers and hoping there's never a character added who's name starts with H

[roseofhybrids]

Human Uzi AU

Khan (at the start): I'm incredibly depressed that my wife left me and our adopted human daughter and is very distant to us but for Uzi's sake I can't show it to her and I have to be a good father to her.

Khan (after Uzi meets the DD): I have to keep safe my daughter from the Disassembly Drones, make sure that she doesn't find out that she's a human AND make sure that they don't leave Copper 9 with her. I also need to keep the rest of the drones in here safe from them and my ex-wife isn't making things easier.

Khan (when Tessa arrives): Things are finally improving! V has stopped trying to harm the Worker Drones, J is more willing to cooperate with us and we have struck a sort of friendship and N and Uzi have become like brother and sister. The only downsides is that now there are rumors about me and J being a couple and my ex-wife is pissed and the human called Tessa is trying to convince Uzi that she's not a drone, but for now she doesn't believe her... But for how long?

Khan (after the Doll incident): Everything went straight to hell. V is dead and Nori killed her. Uzi found out the truth about her origins and has tried to turn herself into a drone. Nori's adopted daughter has become a raging monster and Nori tried to kill her. Tessa is responsible for this entire mess but no matter how I want to smash her head open with an hammer I need her alive because she's the only person here that knows what the Absolute Solver is and can keep us safe from Nori.

Khan (at the end): I just want my family back... breaks down crying.

Canon Khan loses sleep over doors, his wife passing, and his daughter being distant

Huzi AU Khan loses sleep over his entire life crumbling around him on a daily basis

Also, it is good to clarify that Nori left as in divorce (if I'm reading ex-wife correctly?), I'd been assuming estrangement up until now

[princessjaqulinechess1031]

by the bedside

Characters: Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Jason Todd

Summary: A job goes wrong, and Marinette fears the worst until Damian wakes up. 

Notes: Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own. 

Sequel

"À la claire fontaine," a soft voice sung, pulling Damian out of his hazy daze. "M'en allant promener, j'ai trouvé l'eau si belle…"

Damian groaned and tried to turn on his side, to try and reach whatever it was singing, but the moment he did, the song stopped and was replaced by a gasp. Damian blinked his eyes open, ignoring the sting, and saw sitting next to him was a disheveled and red-eyed Marinette sitting next to him.

"Damian….," she whispered. Damian tried to reach out a hand to her, but found that it felt like lead. Moving it felt like a splitting pain, and it was weighed down by a cast. Damian shut his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. The building, the explosion, and –

"Adrien?" Damian croaked. Marinette nodded her head and took the hand not enclosed in a cast in her hands. She gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled.

"He's fine," Marinette said. "He's doing damage control with your brother."

Ah, yes. Dick. Nightwing had come to Paris as one Dick Grayson, something to do with Wayne Enterprises or other, when he had realized what Damian was up to. Robin had become an unofficial third member of Paris's own dynamic duo, Ladybug and Chat Noir once all their allies identities were exposed. Hawkmoth was long gone, so it was just petty criminals and the like, but adding a fourth member to that so suddenly had thrown everything off. Even if it was for one mission. A bomb was missed, and now –

"How long was I out?" Damian asked. He narrowed his eyes and looked around and saw a familiar location had enveloped him. "And ho-how did we get to the Batcave?"

"Two days," Marinette said breathlessly. "And a Zeta tube."

Ah, Zeta. He should have known. Damage control probably meant making sure Paris still had someone patrolling and keeping it's citizens safe.

"Nightwing insisted we bring you back here," Marinette said. "Said you should be with family."

That meant it was touch and go for a moment. Damian felt unfrazzled by the brush with death, how many times had he had one since he was born? Not to mention he actually had died once. He looked down at Marinette's outfit, and saw she was wearing the same purple sundress she had been wearing before her transformation two days ago.

"H-have you been here the whole time?" Damian asked softly. Marinette looked down at her fingers sheepishly.

"I-I had to be sure," Marinette said. "When the Lucky Charm didn't work, and –" Marinette cut herself off with a chortle of tears. "Ma moitié, I had to make sure you weren't dead."

Damian shut his eyes. This was what frazzled him. He knew in their line of work, one got hurt. Sometimes you didn't walk away. But to hurt Marinette, to make Marinette feel hopeless and lost as Damian fought on a hospital bed. Marinette was the one good, pure thing he had ever been able to keep, and to make her feel pain felt like a betrayal.

"You should have gone home," Damian said slowly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Marinette shook her head and squeezed his hand.

"If you expected me to do that, then you don't really know me."

Damian turned his head to the side, and tried to ignore the sharp burst of pain at the top of his back from the movement. But try as he might, he still winced. Marinette reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder to try and steady him again.

"Be still, ma moitié," Marinette said. "Monsieur Pennyworth said it was best for you to remain as you are."

Marinette was so polite, and despite Alfred's continued insistence, Marinette continued to call the man by his proper name. Damian found it was one of many adorable things about her to love.

"Nawaret aynaya," Damian said, "I promise I'm fine –"

"No you're not!" Marinette busted out. "You're hurt, you- you nearly died! All because I couldn't keep my team – I got distracted and –"

The young girl burst into tears, and Damian took his hand from her grasp and reached up to caress her cheek. Oh, Marinette. She always took ever mistake, every misstep, as some misgiving on her part. To Marinette, the safety of all Paris and all of her friends sat squarely on her shoulders. She might shoulder that responsibility with her brother Chat Noir, but Marinette would always hold it as a personal stake in her heart.

"It's not your fault, nawaret aynaya," Damian said softly. "This – this comes with the mask, you know that. If you had or had not been there, this would have happened eventually." He wiped away a tear form her cheek, and Marinette reached for the hand still caressing her. "I love you Marinette. And I know you would never hurt me. So stop blaming yourself."

Marinette gave a weak smile.

"If you expect me to stop just like that," she hiccupped, "then you don't really know me at all." She sucked in a deep breath and rubbed her thumb across his wrist.

"I love you too," she said. Damian's heart sang. For seventeen years he had waited for something and someone that would look at him and not see a monster. Not see an assassin or a danger or someone to fear. And by some miracle, that person turned out to be the love of his life.

And he'd be damned if he let her go.

"He's flatlining, I'm calling it," a voice said, breaking the moment around them. Damian retracted his hand and Marinette wiped away a last tear. In the doorway stood one Jason Todd, mask gone but still wearing spandex and his leather jacket. "Mari, time of death?"

Marinette bit her lip and looked down at her hands, but Damian could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. Jason stepped into the room and dragged a chair from the corner and sat down next to Marinette with a loud thud.

"Papa Bat should be here in a little bit, Brat Bat," Jason said. He took out his gun and began to fiddle with it, probably to clean it since he pulled out a white cloth from his pocket. Damian frowned.

"I'm not a brat," Damian said. Jason rolled his eyes.

"You might be seventeen, but you're still a brat sometimes," Jason said. Marinette looked up from her hands, that familiar mischief shining in her eyes.

"You're kinda. Sometimes," Marinette said softly. Jason laughed and slung an arm around the girl's shoulder.

"Ah! I got the girlfriend on my side!" Jason said. "I win!"

Normally Damian would keep going and insist he wasn't a brat, but Jason was as transparent as a plane of glass. Jason was trying to cheer up Marinette with this joke, and Damian was not going to try and ruin that. Marinette was going to be happy and not worry too much about Damian, that was his mission.

"What did you win?" Adrien asked, popping his head into the med bay. His blonde hair was still damp, meaning he probably just got out of a post-patrol shower. He came up behind his adopted sister and hugged her from behind, placing a kiss to her temple.

"Marinette admitted Damian was a brat sometimes," Jason said.

"I am not!"

"Yeah, you are," Adrien said. Tim and Dick entered the room, and Tim was texting someone on his phone. Probably Stephanie, telling her he was okay. Dick pulled a chair over to the other side of Damian's bed and leaned back, his long legs stretching out underneath the medical bed.

"Be nice to the injured child," Dick said. Damian frowned.

"I am not a child," Damian said. "I am the same age you were when you went solo, Grayson."

Dick raised a brow. "And? I was a child then, henceforth, you're a child now."

Damian furrowed his brow again and Marinette laughed softly, but once again he did not fight. If it made Marinette smile, it was worth it.

His father finally materialized, Alfred behind him. His father was as stoic as ever, his eyes steeled and guarded thanks to the new visitors to the Cave. Despite the Miraculous duo having been unofficial members of the Batfamily for a year and a half, Father still seemed opposed to giving them official membership. Damian wondered if it had anything to do with Marinette being his girlfriend. He hoped not.

"Master Damian," Alfred said, and a phantom smile overtook his professional form. "I see you are recovering well. I assume Miss Marinette has made sure you've stayed where you should?"

"He only woke up a little while ago, Monsieur," Marinette said. Her lips upturned wickedly. "The real problems in that regard have not started yet."

Adrien laughed and hugged his sister tighter.

"Trust me, mi'lady is here is plenty capable of keeping Damian in line."

Once upon a time, Damian had been jealous of Adrien's nickname for Marinette. Now Damian knew better. Adrien may have once been desperately in love with Marinette and Ladybug, but once one Kagami entered the picture it was game over. Now, the nickname was mere relic of that time and a testament to the depth of their bond.

"I expect nothing less," Alfred said. Father stood at the foot of his bed. He was still dressed in his suit, but his cowl was down, revealing his identity. That made Adrien and Marinette's lack of inclusion even more baffling – they knew who all of them were, the biggest secret they had.

"Are you alright Damian?" Father asked. Damian nodded.

"Yes Father," Damian said. A sigh of relief left his father's form. Despite medical evidence, after everything that happened with Jason, Father would never be certain of his kid's state until he heard from them exactly.

"Well, I mean, wasn't he just fighting with Jason?" Tim asked. He looked up from his phone. "Me and Dick heard them outside. If he's in a fighting mood, he's fine."

"I almost died, and you guys treat me this way," Damian said. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, this is how we show our love," Jason said. He eyes Dick. "Except for Dick. He does the whole normal shit. Damn well-adjusted asshole."

"Damn non-well-adjusted asshole," Dick shot back. Marinette giggled. Father turned to Marinette and Adrien.

"You two can stay here as long as you need, to make sure Damian is okay," Father said. Damian tried not to let his surprise be palpable. Marinette and Adrien were barely allowed in the Batcave half the time, now Father was offering to let them stay while Damian recovered? What had happened in the time he was asleep? "You can Zeta home for clothes, if you need them. But we have enough clothes that might fit you Adrien, and I'm sure Cass left some things behind before going to Hong Kong."

"Thank you, Monsieur Wayne," Adrien said for the both of them. Marinette smiled and then turned her attention back to Damian.

Damian for seventeen years wondered what it would be like to be purely loved.

Now he knew. It came from Marinette Dupain-Cheng, that kind of true love

[say-narry]

The Tonight Show

>> Versão em PT-BR

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

Sorry, english isn't my first language! Hope you all like!

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

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for our friend and singer Harry Styles and his friend and new Marvel's actress, Y/N Y/LN!" Jimmy raised his arms pointing to the stage entrance and Harry and Y/N entered side by side.

They smiled and waved to the audience, who returned the whistling and clapping.

Harry greeted Jimmy with a brief hug and Y/N did the same, giving kisses.

Jimmy pointed to the two dark armchairs next to his table and Y/N sat down next to Jimmy and Harry next to him.

The whistling and clapping ceased. They were both smiling for the cameras and sure enough, The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon was scoring very high ratings.

"Great to have you here, everybody! " Jimmy started "We've been on this marathon interviewing friends in the business world and you're closing with a bang!" there was some applause "How long have you been friends?"

Y/N and Harry looked at each other and posed as if they were thinking.

"About three years, right?" Y/N looked at his friend, who agreed. "I wasn't so well known yet, I was participating as a co-star in This is Family, Harry was very nice to send invitations to everyone to his show. From that moment on, we started our partnership."

"Very nice that! And you must hear this question a lot..." a chill went through their stomachs, they knew what it was going to be "Nothing ever happened between you?" Jimmy let out a chuckle and their cheeks flushed.

It was more the discomfort of the question than the act that never happened. They were very close friends, nothing more than a tight hug and kisses on the cheek.

On social media, it was clear that Harry was the friend every woman would want to have, and to S/N fans, there was nothing going on between them since she had a few quick flings with Chris Evans, but only one person knew how much Harry was in love with his best friend, ever since he saw her in the sitcom she acted in, it motivated him to give input to the cast. He himself was that person. He wanted to see if the energy she conveyed on the small screen was the same, but it wasn't. It was simply much better. Y/N was Harry's fit, he had known that since they had spoken in person and Harry had already pulled strings to keep her around.

"No, we never had anything." Harry answered.

"Okay!" Jimmy joked making a funny face. "Kidding guys, it's uncomfortable this kind of question, but I think that just like me, your fans also think that you would make a cute couple."

"We see this a lot on twitter, I often take screenshots and send them to Harry, we laugh a lot, but we have a mutual respect. " Y/N tried to close the subject.

"And about your new song, Harry..."

"We are back with our guests, guys, and they agree to play our "hit the target" game!" Jimmy pointed to three dolls with the picture of himself, Y/N and Harry. There were scores written on part of each one's body.

"It's just a game, but we want to test your aim!" Jimmy continued "As you can see, there are points on every part of our body. Whoever manages to get the five arrows with the most points can choose a charity to donate 50 thousand dollars!" Harry and Y/N clapped side by side again "The loser will have to answer a question from our little box." Jimmy waved a dark red cube and his friends agreed.

The game began with Jimmy aiming at the head height of his paper doll. He fired all five plexiglas and accumulated 100 points.

The next player was Y/N, who ended up taking off her heels to make her move firmer, being assisted by Harry, who made the audience gasp for the act of affection when he held her to take off her shoes.

Y/N shot the first one, hitting the heart of her dummy, starting with 300 points. The next two missed, and the last one hit his dummy's forehead, adding another 100 points.

Harry just looked at her amused. She was good at this, sometimes you guys played this at his parties, it was a game that got on his nerves, because he wasn't good at it.

"Come on, Harry!" The host handed the little arrows to Harry and he positioned himself as Y/N did, maybe if he followed her way, he would be able to hit more points.

Big mistake.

The first arrow hit his wrist, starting with ten points. He made a snapping motion of his neck, drawing a few laughs from the audience. Harry shot two more arrows, one of which hit his arm, and the other fell before it hit the dummy.

"I think it's those rings." He complained loudly and took them off, giving them to Y/N who put them on, showing his fingers to the cameras, making a joke to the home audience.

Harry pointed to the heart of his dummy. If he got it right, he wouldn't have to answer the question.

And he shot. The arrow made a turn and unfortunately stopped in his arm, giving him another 50 points.

Harry would have to answer the damn question.

He groaned in despair as Jimmy and Y/N celebrated their victory.

The announcer walked away and picked up the red box and waved it at Harry. Who pouted in disappointment, sure all his fanclubs would be commenting on his cute expression.

"Take a little paper and read it to us, Harry." Jimmy held out the box and Harry put his hand inside, feeling some papers on his fingers.

He moved his hand a little and brushed at a piece of paper. He unfolded it and read.

His breathing had suddenly become heavier. It seemed as if he was out of breath, his fingers holding the small paper trembled.

"Er... Your challenge is: declare yourself to your crush!" The audience let out a few shouts and Y/N, always very expressive, opened her mouth and her eyes widened. Harry denied it with his head, laughing sideways, trying not to show his nervousness.

As close as they were, Harry didn't mention his girlfriends. She followed his fans that were also Harry's fans and sometimes she saw news about him dating some woman, but if he didn't say anything, it could be just his friends and if it was, she wouldn't invade his intimacy, she would wait for him to say something. Nothing had to be heavy in that friendship, she was aware of that, sometimes they would rather spend their time talking about random things like constellations and signs than their boyfriends and that was fine with her.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asked in a playful tone.

Jimmy laughed and nodded positively.

They had formed a sort of open wheel on the stage.

"Come on, H! You can do it, because that's what I want to know too!" Y/N teased him.

He looked at her, closing his eyes as if she had failed in some secret plan of theirs.

"Okay... The person I like is very special..." He took a breath, playing with the paper in his hand "I won't say the name, but I will tell the situation we lived."

Y/N squatted down next to Jimmy, who hugged him in a friendly way while they listened to Harry.

"We were at a party among friends. We drank a lot, which we never did. It was on our friend's yacht, it was really an exciting day. I remember that we drank so much that this person... vomited a green liquid on my feet." Jimmy made a face of disgust and the audience murmured with disgust as well, Y/N remained static, because she knew this story. She had been there. She had vomited on him, which got a good laugh when she sobered up. "It's disgusting, I almost followed this person, but seeing this person so vulnerable, so sensitive in my arms... It made me see how much she was the perfect person for me, showed me how completely in love I was with her."

Y/N's heart soared, but as an actress who had conquered Hollywood, she made the best expression of curiosity, pretending not to know what it was all about.

"Do you have any idea who it is, Y/N?" Jimmy asked.

"I have no idea, I wish I could use my mind reading powers right now." She joked, referring to her character.

On the other side of the stage, there was an embarrassed Harry. His heart was tight, because he knew his best friend wasn't stupid and hadn't forgotten that day on the boat, when he took care of her, so much so that she slept on his lap and thanked him for it. He knew how spontaneous she was, he was dying for her to run out of Jimmy's side and jump on his lap and kiss him in front of everyone.

On the social networks, there was no other talk. Both of their names were at the top of the world trends topics, and in the news of the famous as well.

Y/N had donated the amount to the institution that cared for homeless people in New York. In a game of scenes, she returned the rings to Harry and didn't look at him, just went along with Jimmy's antics, leaving her friend completely out in the cold.

She didn't want to even think about it. Harry had never given the slightest sign of interest, he had gone out with a woman in the last few days... She was just another friend, no?

Jimmy thanked them both for their presence. They posed for some pictures with the host and the fans in the audience, both of them swallowing dryly and not looking at each other.

Soon the Y/N's accessory called her over and they left. She couldn't look at Harry, couldn't imagine that her favorite teenage singer, her current best friend, was in love with her, a foreigner new to show business.

It had been 15 days since the show had aired. There was still some murmuring on the social networks, Harry and Y/N had come in to check what they were talking about and most had picked up on Harry's words, they had even gotten pictures of them both from the day of the party on the yacht. It was clear from the whole thing.

But they hadn't exchanged a word, their friendship was shaken and Y/N couldn't stand it anymore.

On her day off in London, she took a coat since it was autumn and considerably cold in the late afternoon. She had always been a person who liked to dot the i's and cross the t's. Why was she running away this time? It was Harry there. It was Harry declaring that he was in love with her. What was the problem? She had been in love with him since she was a teenager, the Hollywood world was attractive and fantastic, but to whom could she be sincere, be herself, be the Y/N who left Brazil in search of opportunity and conquered the world? Except for her family, Harry was the only person fit for the job. Him. Only him.

Harry lived a few blocks away, she closed the apartment door and left the condo, there were no paparazzi, not that she had seen.

She pulled up her black hoodie and put her hair over her face, walking quickly through the cold streets of the chic neighborhood.

Braving some closed pedestrian signals, she arrived after a few minutes at the brown stone wall and black gate.

She had the key, they were so close at that point. They trusted each other.

Entering and closing it quickly, she saw some lights on. Y/N hadn't wondered if Harry was accompanied by someone else, his producers or his family.

Her finger slid between the detailed gold knob and opened the door, the wind and the smell of Harry's perfume went straight to her nostrils, filling her lungs.

She stepped inside and took a deep breath. Her heart seemed to throb close to her throat, and as cold as it was, she was sweating.

"Harry?" She called out. "H?"

No sound, no "I'm here!" The alarms hadn't gone off, he could be in the shower or in the studio composing something.

"Harry! It's Y/N, we need to talk!" She said a little louder "If you're with someone, I'm leaving..."

She walked to the center of the huge decorated room, there were some golden items, it was Harry's face. Y/N smiled as she touched a beautiful vase on the table. She couldn't lose him. She loved him, loved his way, his voice, his everything.

"Y/N." She heard Harry's husky voice, behind her between two sliding doors. It was his home office.

Harry was wearing a robe, his face had a sad, tired expression. His hair was not as she was used to seeing it. It was just the way it was. His nose was red, as if he had just cried.

That was it.

"Hazza!" Y/n murmured, walking slowly over to him, who bowed his head in shame.

"What was it?" Without denying his Aquarius side, Harry answered short.

The woman took a breath of air, until she walked more quickly in front of her best friend, stretching her hands until she held his face and joined their lips.

If you could see their stomachs, it would be something similar to fireworks in Copacabana on New Year's Eve.

Harry pushed the doors aside and took his best friend by the waist, pressing her against him.

How much he had dreamed of this. How much he wished it would happen. Their lips were warm, their tongues met, caressing each other, the sighs were audible, Harry couldn't help but smile at that.

"Forgive me." Y/N pulled away minimally whimpering, stroking between his best friend's jaw and neck. "I'm not afraid when I'm the superhero, but in real life... I'm a coward."

Harry shook his head negatively.

"I shouldn't have exposed us like that." Harry passed his hand over his girl's face "But I had to tell the truth."

Y/N agreed, putting her arms around her best friend's neck, hugging him tightly.

"I'm glad you came." Harry murmured. "I couldn't stand another day without talking to you."

"Not anymore, babe. I'm yours from now on."

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

Any suggestions?

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

To @leeroysdancer ;)

[protection-of-the-peaky-blinders]

A Peaky Christmas Day (Tommy x Reader)

Title: A Peaky Christmas Day Summary: Tommy asks you to spend Christmas Day with him. Tommy finds you wandering the snowy streets on Christmas Morning. Asks you to spend Christmas Day with him. Words: 3,372 | Part 1 of 2 Warnings: Trigger Warnings for mentions of Domestic Abuse, Alcohol abuse, Rape, Swearing, She/Her Pronouns Author’s Note: To the Anon that suggested this, I was already writing something similar so I hope you don’t mind me adding in some tragic backstory. Part 1 of 2. Part 2 more focused on Christmas Day Fluff. It’s my first Tommy Shelby Fanfic so if he’s out of character, I profusely apologise. 

 ~

Christmas Day. Merry Christmas. 𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦.

You couldn’t recall a time where Christmas was ever ‘merry’ for you. Your father was always drunk, using the excuse that he was drinking ‘Santa’s whisky since it’s Christmas after all’, and his drunkenness was often taken out on you. The more he drank, the worse it became for you. Which is why you prefer to stay home and ensure he has meals throughout the day, try and soak up some of the alcohol, and try and distract him from consuming too much, lest it become far worse than things thrown at you.

Christmas Eve had been the start of your problems. You weren’t aware your Dad had gone out drinking at the pub until he came home and gotten handsy with you. Luckily you were able to shoo him off with the excuse of you cooking dinner and he needed to take a shower. But this didn’t last as long as you hoped. You managed to get him to eat something but your night went downhill from there.

 Had you given Tommy Shelby permission from another time prior, your Father wouldn’t have lived to have seen Christmas Day. At the moment, you regretted protecting your Dad against the Peaky Blinder. For some reason, Tommy stepped down and respected your wishes. You were grateful. But you knew that Tommy knew your Dad can be extremely abusive when under the influence.

Christmas morning finally arrived and you were already exhausted. You hadn’t slept. Your Dad keeping you awake between his bouts of drunkenness. You had no safe spot in the house. Your bedroom, which should have been anyone’s general ‘safe spot’ was never respected by him as he quite often came barging in.

He finally passed out in the early morning and that’s when it became too much for you. Still in yesterday’s clothes, though severely crumpled and torn, you left the house in such a state that you blindly walked in the snow for hours. It was still dark, but the sun that was slowly rising had allowed enough light to dimly light the area in a dark blue hue.

 You walked and walked. You knew if you stopped and caught your breath, you’d break down like a mad person and you couldn’t do that. You’re not weak. You’re not. Your situation was complicated. You couldn’t leave. You couldn’t disrespect your Mother’s memory by leaving your Dad all on his own. He was still grieving the love of his life. Your Mother had only died a year prior. A few days before Christmas, actually. This year had marked the one-year anniversary. The wounds were still fresh. The first time Tommy found out your Father was abusing you, he wanted to pay your Father a visit. But you stepped in and explained the situation. At first Tommy wasn’t having it, but you begged him to respect the memory of your Mom; a good, kind-hearted, nurturing woman. When he saw you almost breakdown in tears, he stepped down; on the condition that if it gets out of hand, he will do something about it. “You’re protected by the Peaky Blinders now, love.” He had said as he took his cap off and placed it on your head. Far too large for you, but it had you smiling again. And in turn, made him smile softly.

 By 7:30 in the morning, the sun had peaked above the rooftop, though hidden behind clouds, it still left enough light to let you know that it’s now daylight. Snow was starting to fall ever so slightly and your h/c hair had lightly begun sprinkled with snow. You would have looked cute with your red nose and cheeks – had the circumstances been different. Your fingers were cold as ice, too, but it didn’t seem to bother you.

 -- As always, for Tommy, Business never stopped. Even on Christmas Day. Rising up early with the sun, and before anyone else awoke, Tommy got himself dressed and headed into town where he had a couple of matters to take care of at his office. His family might get annoyed at him but at least it won’t be bugging him throughout the day, playing at the back of his mind and making him irritable company. He almost lost track of time when he dropped his pen and sat back. Taking his pocket watch out from his vest pocket, he flicked it open anad read that it was nearing 8am. Better get a move on. By the time he gets home, the fire should be lit, half his guests should be waking up or arriving. (Some of his family chose to stay the night, others were going to arrive in the morning).

 Lighting a cigarette, he made his way out of his office and out of the building, immediately being greeted by snow. Snowing at Christmas was always magical. Or so many believed. It didn’t bother Tommy in the slightest. He wasn’t overly sentimental about Christmas, except for how it brought his family together as normal as they can be; no talk of business, no arguments. Just lots of laughter, chatter and loud teasing. The only person who’s ever cross as Christmas is Aunt Pol when she tells the brothers to settle down; John and Arthur being the rowdiest ones.

 Christmas Day was one of very few days where Tommy’s demons don’t weigh heavily on his shoulders, nor hauntingly appear in his eyes. Yes, he’s still quite reserved and prefers to quietly observe his family, but he smiles more and joins in the laughter.

 It wasn’t long before Tommy was in his car and driving away, wanting to get home before the snow got heavy. His drive home only last a few minutes as he drove out to the edge of town, only to slow down when he saw a woman stumbling on the side. Had it not been for the familiar hair, he would’ve thought it was just some whore who had a bit too much too drink. Clothes were crumpled and torn, hair falling out from the updo it must have been kept in; indicating a wild night no doubt. Such was not the case. Foot placed pressure on the brakes of the car as he carefully slowed it down to avoid skidding on the snow-covered road, ocean blue eyes squinted in concern before murmuring a soft “Fuck.” Under his breath when he realised who it was. The car creaked to a halt as he hastily placed the brakes on, turned the ignition off and swiftly climbed out. “Y/N?” he called out, as he walked over to you, head ducking a little trying to catch a glimpse of your face to give him full confirmation it was you. You stopped in your tracks when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice. It was comforting. Too comforting. Because the minute you stopped and looked up to see the clearly concerned look of Thomas Shelby walking over to you, you crumbled. Your features crumpled as distraught washed over you, and he made it in time to catch you against his chest as you cried. “Aright…” he murmured as he braced himself to catch your weight, “Alright, love. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you firmly against him as your body trembled violently from each sob that tore from your chest. He’s never seen you cry. Never heard you cry. Never knew someone could cry as painfully as you. He didn’t need to ask too many questions about what happened. He knew getting an answer out of you now would be hopeless, so he’d wait until you calmed down a little more. But knowing your situation at home, and your dishevelled appearance, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. One hand left your back and curled in the locks of your h/c strands, the other hand remaining on your back and holding your protectively against him. Each sob that tore out from you had you struggling to breath, gasping between each cry. Being out in the cold climate probably didn’t help either, with the snow already starting to fall. “Shh…shh, shh… come on, hey, come on...” you heard him hushing you firmly. Probably to most people it might sound as though he was annoyed because of the tone of his voice, but you knew there was concern that filtered through that gravelly voice. “You’re safe now, eh? You’re safe.” Cold, ocean blue eyes glanced around as he held you; snowfall was beginning to cover things like a white blanket and he needed to get you out of the cold. A few people were still walking around in the distance behind them, but apart from that, it seemed like it was just you two being the daft ones still outside in the cold. Your painful cries tugging at his heartstrings, making him want to murder the fucking bastard that did this to you; family or not. The only thing stopping him from spreading more red at Christmas was you. There was no way in hell he could leave you in such a state. Your father can wait. But he WILL pay. Tommy will NOT let this slide. He continued to hold you until you calmed down, his patience with you was commendable, but it’s one thing you needed was patience and understanding. Your situation was … delicate. Fragile. He certainly didn’t want to fuck anything up with you. Except for your Dad. But that was a given. When your cries had quietened, you dared not look at him, knowing your face was a complete mess. You felt him let go of you, and for some reason you thought he was disgusted by you. Something you feared would always happen if a situation like this occurred; where you were painted dirty. A whimper of fear left your throat and you stumbled back in your footing. Letting you go, Tommy had quickly shrugged out of his jacket to place it over your shoulders, give you some warmth because it was hard to miss how frozen you felt against him. He missed the whimper that came from you, thinking it was just a noise of distraught and nothing more. The same with the stumbling of your footing, thinking it was your exhaustion creeping in. Not once did he ever consider your dirty or disgusting, the word ‘whore’, a word you feared you’d be seen as because of your Dad, never once occurred to him when he’s with you. Or thinking of you. Quickly draping the heavy coat around your shoulders, he was quick to wrap his around you again. “Y/N!” he murmured before his other came around you to hold you up in case you buckled completely. “I’ll take you back to mine, eh? Sit you by the fire and get you warmed up. And then we’ll talk.” “But it’s Christmas.” You murmured though your voice croaky from the distraught outburst you had only moments ago. “You’re spending Christmas with me. Alright?” It’s not like you had much of a choice in the matter. When Tommy formulates plans, he sticks to them. The only time he wavers is if you’re legitimately uncomfortable about it but that’s never been an issue with Tommy. “…but my Dad…” you asked, letting the question go only for Tommy to sternly answer back, “Will be dealt with. Let’s get out of the cold before you get sick. Come on.” Arms stayed around you, right arm draped around the middle of your back, left hand cupping your elbow as an added means of security. Tommy guided you back to his car, his own body acting as both a shield and grounding point for you. Your frozen hands clutched at the thick fabric of his coat and wrapped it shut against your chest, shivering beneath it when your body finally discovered the sense of warmth and you only begun to realise how cold you actually were. Opening the passenger door for you, Tommy waited a moment for you to climb in before closing it. Blue eyes surveyed the area once more, either for prying eyes, any signs of her Father, and also simply out of slightly paranoid habit. You let out a shaky sigh as you leaned back against the seat. Your legs flopping to the side as all the strength that kept you going suddenly left you. The exhaustion finally caught up and was threatening to pull you under, but you kept your eyes open. The coat didn’t help with the comfort it provided; warmth and smelling of smoke and cologne; Tommy’s signature scent. You jerked slightly as the driver’s door opened and Tommy sat down, slamming the door shut. He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes gazing straight ahead out the window. “He put his hands on you, didn’t he?” You licked your lips in nervousness, knowing there was no point in lying to him. He already knew the answer, just wanted the truth confirmed before he decided to carry out whatever plan he was currently formulating in his mind. “Tommy…” “Answer the question Y/N. Did he place his hands on you?” His voice was low. Calm. A hint of danger behind his voice but he kept it soft but firm for you. “…Yes…” you breathed quietly, Tommy already able to hear the tears in your voice. “Fuck.” He murmured beneath his breath as straightened himself up to start the car. “He did that too.” Your voice hitching as you admitted to the worst of what your Father did to you, making Tommy pause in his actions and drop his hands. He finally looked over at you to see you curled up, looking small and fragile. Tears already falling from your E/C orbs again, though you weren’t outwardly crying. Just seemed as though you didn’t even realise you were crying at all. His heart broke for the pain you’re in; this soft, beautiful woman, broken by a man she’s meant to trust and be loved by. His heart angered by the fact that he wanted to protect you, made a personal oath to protect you and had failed to do so. He didn’t even want to think what would have happened to you today had he not found you. “He will be dealt with, Y/N.” he repeated himself firmly, with authority. If you were going to argue against him, you would not win. His decision was final this time. Blue eyes bored into yours “I want to make that very clear.” You weren’t afraid of him, but you were afraid of what he’d do. But you knew your Father went too far. You had no fight left in you to protect or defend him. “…By order of the Peaky Blinders?” Grabbing his cap, he yanked it off and flopped it against your head, the way he did it during one of many moments that looked like you both were an official couple but at the same time, nothing had yet officiated it (by means of a kiss or something typical that officially seals a relationship). “By order of the Peaky Blinders.” He murmured back, pulling the cap down slightly to hide your face. Fuck. He’ll never forgive himself for not being there to protect you. But then, he’d have risked you never forgiving him if he broke his promise and acted on it sooner. It doesn’t matter. He can’t change the past. He’s got you now. Safe. By his side. Safest place for you to be. He’ll take you home, get you warmed up and settled in. Reintroduce you to the family since you’ve only met them briefly a few times before; Tommy wanting to keep you away from a lot of the shit that goes on, not wanting you to get caught up in it all. He’d call a family meeting at some point and give the order for tomorrow. It's boxing day after all, what better way to celebrate than by boxing the fucker’s head in eh?

 That was his plan. For the most part of today, he just wanted you to feel safe and comfortable, and to place a smile on your face. At least he’d be able to give you your Christmas present. Perhaps not in the way he imagined to present you with it since you’re in a fragile state and he dare not risk jeopardising anything. But at least he was able to do it on the day that mattered most.

 You didn’t bother adjust the cap that was a bit too big for your head. You hummed softly in response but nothing further was said from either of you. Tommy finally tore his eyes from yours and began to put the car into motion. It wasn’t too long before you were lulled to sleep by the leisurely motion of the car and the hum of the motor acting as white noise. With Tommy being silent and not conversing with you didn’t help, but certainly the lack of sleep you were currently suffering with was the key factor as to why you fell asleep within minutes. Tommy glanced over to you when he noticed you had gone quiet, no sound of sniffling or shaky little intakes of breaths. His concern was quelled when he realised you were asleep, and purposefully took the longer route home, slowing down over some of the bumpier paths to avoid waking you. It was the least he could do for you in your current state. Getting you home and warmed up was a priority, but he couldn’t recall a time he’s ever seen you asleep. You looked peaceful. Angelic. As if you didn’t suffer a horrendous ordeal that last throughout the night until the early hours of the morning. He didn’t want to break the peace you had with sleep, so he let you be as long as he could. You honestly felt like you had barely gotten any sleep when you were being shaken awake only seconds later (Tommy had managed to stretch the drive close to half an hour). In your disorientated state, your eyes snapped open and you immediately fought against the hands that were on you. Your whimpers being the first noise to come from you, only to be hushed by a gravelly voice, “Hey, hey, Y/N! Y/N! Its just me. Just Tommy. Yeah?” Between fighting him off, he managed to catch your wrists and hold them steady from attacking him, but when you came to your senses, eyes wide with fear and your chest rising with each breath, your hands went limp in his hold. “Tommy?” “Yeah.” “Oh god…” “It’s alright. Hey…look at me. It’s alright. Just me. You’re safe now. You’re safe.” Blue eyes never left yours as he waited for you to calm down. Letting go of your wrists, he pulled away just a little bit to give you space in case you needed it. He offered his hand for you to take in case you needed physical reassurance. He wasn’t sure how best to help you right now, so he wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t take his hand. But you did. “God, I’m so sorry.” You apologised once you found your voice and your bearings. Bringing your hand to his lips, he softly kissed the back of your hand, “Don’t be.”

He bit back words of anger hurled at your Father for making you feel this way, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. You didn’t need to deal with Tommy’s anger.

 “Now come on, eh? Let’s get you inside. Warmed up by the fire. Cup of tea. Spend Christmas Day with me.”

Ocean blue eyes that held so much anger and danger, was staring at you with nothing but softness, adoration and a fierce protectiveness. He lifted the back of your hand to his lips and gave it another tender kiss, making your lips curl up into a smile. “That’s my girl.” It was the first time you smiled since he found you, and fuck how it made his heart flutter. Especially when you ducked your head in shyness but not before he spotted the hint of blush dusting your cheeks, making him chuckle ever so slightly. || Tag list: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

[mischiefthedreamerx]

The First Steps

Synopsis: Young Sylvie has kept this secret for far too long and now it's time to tell her Mother whether she is ready or not. Little Sylvie is taking her first small steps in becoming who she feels inside.

A/N: So Sylvie is probably the equivalent to a 10 year old here. It's basically Sylvie coming out as trans and wanting to change her name etc. This is just a simple sweet one shot.

Word Count: 2.2k

- - - - -

Young Sylvie sat herself down in front of her mirror, golden coloured hairbrush in hand brushing her black silky locks. It had now grown a few inches past her shoulders, others had started asking when she was going to get it cut or simply made an innocent statement on its growing length. She liked it this long, though still preferred it to be longer. Sylvie looked down at the piece of jewellery she borrowed from her mother's dressing room. Well she took them without permission but she planned on returning them before her mother noticed...

Firstly she picked up some form of silver circular headpiece with silver metallic leafs around the band. She had also snuck out a silk white shawl. She knew very well that it wasn't right to steal the items but if she returned them without being caught then no harm was done. She traced her fingers over the headpiece before gently placed it above her forehead. Then added the white shawl over her shoulders. Seeing herself in the mirror, she knew she looked ridiculous with it on, especially over her green tunic. She adjusted a few strands of hair around the headpiece. This was one of the ways she could pretend to feel better, to distract herself but this void that was still burning inside her chest.

With a sigh, she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

Though an even worse distraction bombarded her when her brother practically threw himself into her room, the door whacking itself open.

"Thor!" Sylvie shouted in panic, quickly tearing off the headpiece and shawl, shoving them under her bed. Thor stood there, wide eyed.

"Have you heard of a such a thing called privacy?" She ragged.

Thor ignored the question and composed himself, holding a wooden sword in hand. "Well I was going to ask if you'd come out with me and Fandral in the woods but it seems you're rather busy playing... dress up." Thor teased.

"I am not! And besides Father forbid us to go into the woods." She said, desperate to change the subject.

"We won't go far, I promise." Thor smiled.

"Right. Of course." Sylvie returned her gaze to the mirror, hoping this would make Thor realise she did not wish to play with him but he didn't quite understand this hidden message.

"So..are you coming?"

Sylvie grumbled. "No. Go and play with your stupid little sword."

Thor crossed his arms. "Fine I will!" He stuck out his touch and left.

"Careful I don't cut your tongue off in your sleep..." Sylvie muttered to herself in a hushed voice. "Knock next time too!" She yelled. With a careless flicker of a hand, the door slammed shut. A part of Sylvie now regretted not taking up Thor's offer because now she was alone again in her miserable thoughts.

She placed her forehead against the mirror and sighed, clutching the silk shawl in her hands. Her eyes were closed as if praying, waiting for her reflection to magically change when she opened them but still she only saw some sad little 'boy' wishing she was anyone else but herself.

Sylvie then heard the sound of a door handle slowly being turned.

She was prepared this time. "I said knock next time—“

Her mother appeared in the doorway.

"Mother!" Sylvie scrambled, standing herself up. The shawl hiding behind her back.

Her mother cautiously entered the room. "Is everything alright, dear? I heard shouting."

A small sense of relief filled her knowing Thor had not told their mother on the 'borrowed' possessions or better yet her wearing them but her anxiety still held firm.

"Everything is quite alright, Mother." She stuttered, sweat appearing above her brows. Her mother took a few more steps closer.

"Loki, did you really think I would not have noticed." She raised an eyebrow, no anger in her features, only a sense of calmness but her presence still heavily filled the room. Sylvie looked down at the floor and unhid the shawl from behind her back. Sylvie may have been good at being sly but her Mother was proven to be a challenge to trick.

She wasn't sure if she should apologise or explain why she had them in the first place. Or maybe now was the right moment to explain everything.

"Mother, I'm sorry, I.." Her words fell apart.

"I think it's time you and I have a little talk. Shall we?" Her mother walked over to sit on her bed. The door quietly closing by itself. Sylvie sat herself down next to her mother, avoiding her mother's gaze.

"Why did you take those things? I'm not angry. I just wish to understand the reasoning behind this. Perhaps I can help you."

Sylvie nodded. She wasn't ready, but if not now, then when? She knew how she felt, it was explaining it out loud that was the struggle. Was something wrong with her? Was she sick? Or even a way to fix her to stop feeling like this.

Sylvie had succumb to silence, blinking away the tears. Her mother patiently waiting.

"I..I don't feel right." She met her mother's soft blue eyes, she nodded once to encourage Sylvie to continue. She only wished to recoil into herself and disappear.

"I look in the mirror and it hurts, Mother. It hurts." Sylvie turned to look up at her mother, the tears slipping themselves free.

Sylvie fell into the comfort of her mother's warm embrace, a hand wrapped around her. She clung to the fabric of her mother's dress, hoping it would stop the tears.

"Hush, my dear. I'm listening." Frigga whispered, threading her fingers through Sylvie's locks.

"Why does it hurt so much? There is nothing wrong with who you are, Loki." She said, Sylvie only shook her head, pulling herself away.

"No, you don't understand! I don't want—" She rubbed away her tears, taking a deep breath to take control of her steady breathing from the crying. She wasn't close to explaining it. She had once wrote down all the things she felt when she eventually told her parents, scripted it in her head, in front of the mirror and now all of that was useless.

Her mother stayed calm, though Sylvie could tell she was puzzled at the sudden raised voice. "If you could magically become anyone you wish, who would it be?" She asked. The question caught Sylvie of track.

"Anyone?" She asked. Her mother nodded. Sylvie knew a few people she wanted to look like. It was now or never. There might not be another chance like this for awhile. What’s the worse thing that could happen? She knew her family loved her regardless, even despite her being adopted, they never once treated her any differently.

Sylvie jumped off her head and walked towards her book shelf, picking out a book without hesitation. She pressed the book close to her chest, then showing it to her mother.

On the cover was a women with long blonde hair tied in a braid wearing gold and white armour, blue cape flowing behind her. Her arm was held out high holding a glowing light blue sword as she sat on a pegasus mid flight. In her eyes was the fearless look of warrior ready for battle. She was beautiful and power and strong.

It was a fictional story about the main character's journey to becoming a highly respected Valkyrie despite the hardships she went through, being born into a poor family and was looked down upon for how weak she was. Sylvie stood in front of her mother, holding her hands together in anticipation for her response.

Her mother's eyes scanned over the cover. "You wish to be a Valkyrie?" Frigga frowned slightly.

Becoming a Valkyrie was definitely a far away dream, a dream so impossible to reach that it would never become a reality.

"It's more than that." Sylvie replied.

"Loki..." Her mother placed the book down on the bed. "Tell me more. What are you so afraid of, my dear?"

"I'm afraid you'll no longer love me. That you'll think I'm pretending or confused..or..or.."

Her mother stood up and bent down in front of Sylvie to reach her level. "Sweetheart, we could never stop loving you. I trust that you know your own mind. You're a smart and sensible young boy."

Sylvie visible winced as if someone had injured her, chocking out a heavy sob and began to weep. Sylvie promised herself she would not cry, promised she'd be strong. The promises lay broken. She was weak.

"I don't want to be a boy, Mother. I don't want to look like this. I want to be pretty. I feel horrible. I...I feel disgusting." Sylvie held onto her mother for dear life. Frigga embraced her tightly.

"Oh, my dear." Frigga let Sylvie cry into her shoulder until the heavy sobs became only sniffles. Frigga wasn't exactly sure what to make of this sudden turn of events. She knew Sylvie was never like her brother or most young boys for that matter, always more quiet, never fitting in with Thor and his friends. She'd much rather play with her toys or interact with the girls from her classes.

Frigga was always considered wise, knowing what to say when comforting and support others or even explaining the complexity of different methods regarding magic. Though now, she had no right words on how to comfort her distressed child. She still very much believed her child knew their own mind and that every word Sylvie said was not some child wanting to play pretend but a child in so much pain from hiding her true self for far too long. Perhaps Frigga felt a sense of guilt from not realising her child's distress. What Sylvie was feeling wasn't something Frigga had not heard before but it was still new to her. It was not a choice. She would continue to love her child unconditional despite not understanding much.

"For how long have you been feeling this way?"

Sylvie sniffled and wiped her tears with a shrug. "A long time. It has only become much worse. I have tried, really tried to stop being this way. To be more like Thor and the others."

Frigga placed a strand of hair behind Sylvie's ear. "You do not have to be anything like your brother. You two are very special in your own ways. Thor.. he relies on brute strength, charging head first into battle without analysing the battle field in itself. Of course he has some remarkable strengths. But you, my child, you are very powerful, intelligent, pure at heart, cunning even. You have qualities that many dismiss, cast aside as if they were only weak but my dear, they are your hidden strengths to use to your advantage." Frigga's voice whispered softly. She continued;

"And.. if from within you feel.. you're trapped.." Frigga paused, searching for the right words.

"In the wrong body." Sylvie said, completing her mother's sentence.

Frigga nodded. "Yes. Then we shall do whatever we can to support you. You will encounter many who will not quite fathom all of this, or many will say that you are sick. Do not ever let other's perception of who you are change you. Only you truly understand who you are from within and that’s all that matter."

Sylvie stood there, giving herself some time to take in what her mother had said. She had not expected this sort of outcome. A small smile made it's way to Sylvie's lip.

"Thank you, Mother. Can we tell Father...together?"

"We will and he shall love his daughter all the same." Frigga placed a kiss upon her forehead. "This..is still very new to me but is there another name you one day wish to be called by?"

Sylvie's eyes sparkled with instant excitement. She picked up her story book and pointed to the Valkyrie on the front cover.

“Her!” She passed the book to her mother. Frigga turned to look at the back of the book to read the blurb.

"Sylvie?" She said, reading the main character’s name.

Sylvie nodded, the void becoming only but a distant ache. Right now she no longer thought about what her father or Thor would think of this or for the rest of Asgard for that matter. Sylvie wanted to live in this blissful moment and hoped for many more.

"Sounds very elegant and mystical." Her mother said. "It's perfect."

Sylvie struggled to hide her ever growing smile as she hugged her mother.

"Though you must understand it will take us all some time to adjust to this change. We may make mistakes along the way, but I can assure you that as a family, together, we will support you."

Sylvie understood that it would be a big adjustment for everyone, even for herself and mistakes will follow and many will not support her journey, she was well aware of the troubles she may face but right now, Sylvie had made her first steps into becoming the person she was on the inside

"I know, Mother." Sylvie said, she reached down picking up the shawl and silver headpiece. "Here. I'm sorry for taking them without your permission, Mother.”

Frigga took the headpiece and placed it on Sylvie's head.

"Keep them." She smiled. "They look much better on you, my little princess."

- - - - -

A/N: Omg I didn't think I'd make this so heartbreaking. Also please no comments about how I didn't explain being trans that well considering its coming from a distressed child

[jaimehwatson]

I made another Snowpiercer playlist!

After posting my Wilford/Audrey playlist a while ago, I added some songs that didn’t quite make the cut to a different playlist, intending to put together another similar one. But rather than focusing on just one ship this time, I also ended up getting really interested in theorizing about what Wilford’s relationship with Melanie might have been like before the Freeze, and exploring the idea that maybe there was something going on there and some kind of love triangle with Audrey.

So here’s my new playlist, full of absolute jams that could apply to any combination of relationships involving Wilford, Audrey, and Melanie, and/or just general Snowpiercer vibes! Read on for more detail about the songs I selected, and as before, content warning for references to canon abuse & self-harm/suicide.

1. “The Tradition” by Halsey

Oh, the loneliеst girl in town Was bought for plenty a price Well, they dress her up in golden crowns His smile hides a lie

She smiles back, but it's a fact That her fear will eat her alive Well, she got the life that she wanted But now all she does is cry

Thanks @onetrainsnowpiercer​ for getting me into this excellent album! I thought it would be fitting to kick off the playlist with one that could suit the earlier days of Wilford’s relationship with Audrey, like my previous playlist was more focused on.

2. “cardigan” by Taylor Swift

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Did you think I would make a Snowpiercer playlist without Taylor Swift on it? Not a chance. I picture this one being more from Melanie’s perspective, reflecting on possibly having had some kind of ill-fated romance with Wilford when she was young and naive.

3. “No Children” by The Mountain Goats

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong

I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

The only reason this perennial favourite of mine wasn’t on the first playlist was that I had too many Mountain Goats songs already and wanted to keep things balanced. But this one got all the ones that didn’t make it to the first playlist plus some more I thought about later, so I’m kind of giving up on that balance by now. They just have a lot of great songs about terrible relationships, and I love them all so much.

4. “Gold Guns Girls” by Metric

I remember when we were gambling to win Everybody else said, "Better luck next time." I don't wanna bend like the bad girls bend I just wanna be your friend Is it ever gonna be enough?

This is another one that I can picture being about young Melanie, gradually growing more aware of everything that’s terribly wrong with Wilford and his approach to life, and of how little he cares to try to fix it.

5. “You’ve Haunted Me All My Life” by Death Cab for Cutie

And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

You've haunted me all my life You've haunted me all my life You are the mistress I can't make a wife And you've haunted me all my life

And this one I can see being Wilford thinking about either one of the women, and his unhealthy attachment to them and inability to keep them around for very long—maybe once he’s finally reunited with them both on some level in season 2, but still can’t fully persuade them both over to his side.

6. “Old College Try” by The Mountain Goats

From the cities to the swamplands From the highways to the hills Our love has never had a leg to stand on From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elavils

But I will walk down to the end with you If you will come all the way down with me

Another Mountain Goats classic. If you divorce it from its context of being from a concept album about a horrible marriage, I actually think this song is kind of sweet in the way it describes a couple still committing to try to make things work despite a whole host of problems. But never mind that now, because I’m putting it back in the new context of a whole collection of horrible romantic relationships!

7. “Risk” by Metric

So you're beaten up but you bounce back It’s all part of the pull And the story runs like a soundtrack We repeat 'til we're full Started slow, started late Started strong, then we lost faith Started slow, started to lose control The more we accelerate, the more we accelerate

Half of arranging any playlist I make is just trying to split up the Mountain Goats and Metric songs so that they aren’t always clumped together. Anyway, this one seems especially fitting to me in its imagery of a speeding vehicle of some kind (it’s a train, I’m always picturing a train) alongside its description of a relationship going badly.

8. “Big God” by Florence + The Machine

You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You'll always be my favourite ghost

I think this one could be any one of the three of them contemplating their complex feelings about the past at some point around season 2.

9. “I Still Do” by The Cranberries

I don't want to leave you Even though I have to I don't want to love you Oh, I still do

There aren’t as many specifics that match the characters going on in the lyrics here, since it’s more of just a general break-up song, but I also really like the creepy way it sounds.

10. “Fault Lines” by The Mountain Goats

But none of the money we spend Seems to do us much good in the end I got a cracked engine block, both of us do

Yeah, the house and the jewels, the Italian racecar They don't make us feel better about who we are I got termites in the framework, so do you

This one feels really fitting for pre-Freeze Wilford, especially the engine imagery!

11. “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy

Say my name and his in the same breath I dare you to say they taste the same Let the leaves fall off in the summer And let December glow in flames

Erase myself and let go Start it over again in Mexico These friends, they don't love you They just love the hotel suites

Another song that is simply a) an absolute jam, and b) generally fitting for my favourite obscenely rich asshole and his terrible relationships

12. “You asked for this” by Halsey

I want my cake on a silver platter I want a fistful in my hands I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I wanna ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I wanna cry so hard, I choke I want everything I asked for

This one I can picture as Audrey—or maybe Melanie too, but especially Audrey—beginning to regret getting involved with Wilford, but only once she’s in way too deep for leaving to be a safe or easy decision.

13. “my tears ricochet” by Taylor Swift

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

Much like several other Taylor Swift songs, I just know in my heart that it’s the type of music Wilford listens to in secret, while possibly drunk and definitely singing along very dramatically. This one he dedicates to Melanie once they’ve met up again in season 2.

14. “Speed the Collapse” by Metric

All the way from where we came Built a mansion in a day Distant lightning, thunder claps Watched our neighbor's house collapse Looked the other way

This one has a lot of good apocalyptic imagery that I can imagine scoring Wilford’s life in the last few years before the Freeze, as he makes his plans to save himself and let so many others die.

15. “Ox Baker Triumphant” by The Mountain Goats

I will thank my ride and crawl my way back inside To the guts of the building where my enemies Hide in the dark like roaches And I will signal the camera crew and everyone will do What he's been trained how to do Sweat dripping from my face as my moment approaches

Click your heels, count to three I bet you never expected me A little worse for wear Practically walking on air

I love this song a lot, and listening to it lately makes me imagine Wilford plotting his revenge while on his way to catch up with Snowpiercer before the end of season 1.

16. “Firewood” by Regina Spektor

The piano is not firewood yet But the cold does get cold So it soon might be that I'll take it apart, call up my friends And we'll warm up our hands by the fire

Don't look so shocked Don't judge so harsh You don't know You’re only spying Everyone knows it's going to hurt But at least we'll get hurt trying

This has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. It’s very beautiful, and I love the piano in it. I’ve always personally interpreted it to be at least partially about someone surviving a suicide attempt, and the overall imagery about burning a piano for warmth—and this bit about not judging someone for doing that—reads to me as more of a general statement about the difficult choices people struggling with mental illness and other similar issues have to make to survive. I listened to it recently and I could picture Audrey singing it in the nightcar. I think it suits her well.

17. “Cry for Judas” by The Mountain Goats

But I am just a broken machine And I do things that I don't really mean Long, black night Morning frost I'm still here But all is lost

I think the imagery of this song suits the show a lot in general, but I can also particularly imagine it being Wilford in a rare moment of self-awareness about how much damage he’s caused to the world and the people around him.

18. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” by David Bowie

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget Oh oh, oh, oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide

I love Wilford a lot. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him ever. I hope he kills more people, and I hope he gets his train back, and I hope he wins. But if he does eventually die in the show, I hope he’s found in the bathtub with there being some ambiguity about whether he really killed himself or whether one of his victims turned the tables on him, and I hope the climax of this song swells as the camera pans over his dead body. That’s the only Wilford death I will accept, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

19. “Source Decay” by The Mountain Goats

I park in an alley And I read through the postcards you continue to send Where as indirectly as you can, you ask what I remember I like these torture devices from my old best friend Well, I'll tell you what I know, like I swore I always would I don't think it's gonna do you any good I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok Down toward the water

Okay, I promise this is the last Mountain Goats song on the playlist. It’s just—it’s perfect. It has a train in it. And on the podcast “I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats,” John Darnielle commented that there’s barely anywhere you can go south of Bangkok before you hit the water, it’s a train going nowhere, it’s so good. It’s also one of the songs I’ve previously ripped a line off for my fanfiction titles!

20. “Sellers of Flowers” by Regina Spektor

The sellers of flowers Buy up old roses They pull off dead petals Like old heads of lettuce And sell ’em as new ones For cheaper and fairer But they die by the morning So who is the winner? Not the roses Not the buyers Not the sellers Maybe winter

And Regina Spektor closes out the playlist again! This song is another one I picked more on imagery and vibes than anything else. But since it’s about a young child in a world that seems to be moving inexorably toward an all-consuming winter, if it suits any of the characters, maybe it’s an appearance of Alex here at the end!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the playlist!

[hazebxtch]

Love Don’t Change

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader 

Summary: You and Katsuki were childhood friends, one day you had to move to Europe as per your grandparents wishes. When you come back to Japan, you never excepted to see the man you once swore to forget.

Warnings: fluffy with some angst 

Word Count: 2,284 

A/n: This was inspired by a song Love Don't Change by Jeremiah although the sad tone of the song I made a happy ending so enjoy! Also I was thinking about making this like a mini-series for multiple characters. Should I?

You hid behind your mother's leg, shielding yourself from the new people that your mother wanted you to know. Your long (h/c) locks helped you hid from the curious eyes of the strangers.

“Come on you silly girl. Don’t be rude, introduce yourself.” your mother sweetly scolded, you looked up past your locks. Gazing at the small family before you, a beautiful young woman with blonde hair holding the shoulders of what you assumed to be her son. Almost a spitting image between the two of them, when you looked at the man beside them it was shocking how they were even related. But, the wedding bands on their hands proved you wrong. That made your eyes finally fall onto the blonde male that stood their so confidently. His arms crossed, chin up, puffing out his chest as he sported a cocky smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up a tad bit as you hid your face once more, muttering your introduction. “I’m sorry about her, she was never really a big people person.” your mother chuckled only making your face heat up even more.

“Don’t worry about it, Akari. I think it would be a good influence on my son. Maybe teach him a thing or two about keeping his mouth shut.” she chuckled. Hearing someone walking towards you, you unconsciously moved closer towards your mothers' legs. Seeing someone’s shadow hovering over you, you lifted your (e/c) orbs to see the sight before you. A hand stuck out as a greeting leading up to a blonde boy who was smiling wide, looking down at you. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki! Don’t forget it!” looking into his blood-red eyes only made you blush more.

Shyly you held out your hand to shake his, “Okumura (Y/n),” you quietly admitted, and as your hand connected with his, he shook furiously. “Nice to meet you Okumura! What’s your quirk?” and with those words, you instantly came out of your shell. Wordlessly grabbing his hand as you dragged him out to your family garden.

___________

You were sitting in the lobby of your home, patiently waiting for your long time best friend. Your bags were all packed and ready to go, your one-way ticket to Europe had been bought and you ride to the airport was waiting. All that you need was for him to say goodbye. You wanted him to come and wish you well, ride with you to the Airport and see you off.

However, he never came. You waited to the very last second and even almost missed your flight.

And he never came.

You sat in your seat, your music softly playing in your earbuds. Your dairy sat open in your lap, the pen you had previously been writing with laid dormant in your fingers. Your (e/c) orbs gazed out into the sky as your vision blurred.

Why didn't he come?

You both had known each other for so long, you both had the same classroom throughout elementary, you were going to start Middle school together. Maybe that is what hurt you the most. You wouldn’t be by his side for as long as you had hoped.

Gazing down to your lap, you read over what you wrote in your diary. The tears broke past the dam you tried so hard to keep up as you ripped every single page out of the book.

“Will you wait for me?” you brokenly whispered as you looked at the crumpled pages in the trash. “......mon loup,”

Why didn't you come to say goodbye?

_______

You walked up the steps of your new high school. You moved back to Japan with the blessing of both your parents and your grandparents. The only requirement was that you had to attend one of the most prestigious schools.

So here you are, at the steps of the UA.

You walked up to the front desk and turned in all the necessary paperwork to enroll. You were guided to your dorm, given books for your classes and a tour of the school. You then attended the last ten minutes of your fourth period before heading off to the cafeteria.

You were surprised when you ordered your food. Who knew French cuisine could be so delicious outside of France. You minded your own until someone interrupted your meal. “Hey! Do you mind if we sit here with you?” you heard someone ask, looking up, you see a yellow-haired male with a black strip in his bangs. Behind him were two boys and a girl.

The girl looked strange, she was all pink with two horn-like things sticking out of her head. One of the boys closest had red hair and sported a small smile, the one just behind him ha black hair and weird elbows. Not that you discriminate but still.

You stared at them for a bit until you turned your head back to your food. “Sure, go ahead. I don't mind,” you muttered. They each took their seats as they pleased and started to talk amongst themselves. Not long after, their quiet chatting got a tad bit louder.

Your quiet meal was interrupted when you heard a male yelling. Looking up, you see an ash blonde glaring in your direction. “I'm sorry?” your voice emitted from the quiet atmosphere that you created for yourself. As you made contact with the same eyes you tried to forget.

“I said what the fuck are you eating?” he repeated, his teeth grinding out of annoyance.

You had to bring yourself out of a daze before answering, “Escargots De Bourgogne, its a French delicacy.” you muttered. “Can I try? I never had French food before!” the pink one exclaimed, a small smile etched its way on your face as nodded.

Taking your fork, you picked one up and placed it on her plate, soon enough everyone asked to try one as they promised to take the foreign dish together. All except the loudest one of the bunch. You paid him no mind, too in grossed in their funny reactions as they ate it.

They ate it with shell and all which made you giggle but you couldn't blame them. “This is so......crunchy.” the redhead commented, “Very rubbery too,” the one with the weird elbows added. You couldn’t help but giggle as you ate the dish the proper way.

“How come you're not eating the whole thing?” Pinky inquired.

“Because you're not supposed to eat the whole thing, just the inside. Escargots are snails,” you couldn't help but giggle when you heard them immediately spitting out every bit of the food out of their mouth. You raised your (e/c) eyes to meet the red ones yet again. That moment you saw that glimpse of familiarity in them.

That was your cue to leave.

Standing up, you slide your plate towards the group, “You guys can have the rest I have to go.” with that you left the cafeteria. Going as fast as your feet could carry you. Ignoring the voice that told you to stop, ignoring the quickly approaching footsteps.

Why was he here?

The next thing you know, you were pinned to the wall. Locked between two very muscular arms. “What are you doing here?” you heard his gruff voice question.

You shook your head furiously, looking down at the floor you refused to make eye contact again. “Answer me! Why are you here?” his voice was so much more violent than you remembered. Why was he acting like this?

“Answer m-” you interrupted him before he could finish his sentence again.

“I haven't seen you in three and a half years and the first thing you ask when you finally see me again is ‘Why are you here’?!” you asked him in a raised voice. Your vision of the floor began to blur as you continued.

“The last thing we did was fight! I remember it so vividly, you hated me! I heard you say that with your own two lips and you have no idea how much that broke me. You acted like it was my choice to live in Japan. To leave you. I gave you so many chances to try and communicate with me again, and you never did! You never responded to any of my letters! And they first thing you ask me when we finally see each other again is ‘Why are you here?”

You had been fighting to keep your voice strong when all you wanted to do was crumble down to the ground and cry. There was silence between the two of you before you broke it once again.

“Why didn't you come?”

You finally raised your head to look him in the eye. Tears ran down your face like rivers and it broke him. You could see it in his eyes. How his once strong stance faltered, how he backed away from you ever so slightly, how he hung his head.

How his shoulders started to shake as he brought one of his arms to his face. You heard him say something under his breath. You made a small confused sound, silently asking him to speak up.

“Because I loved you,” he started, “I just didn't know it yet.”

The way he spoke made him sound so weak and vulnerable, he lifted his head once again to look into your eyes. “I didn't want you to leave. I didn't want to lose you, I thought that you would never come back. I didn't want to see you walk out of my life like and instead, you walked out of it without a single word and the last thing I told you was the opposite of how I felt. I swear I regretted not seeing you off every day since then and seeing you today just made me remember why I felt so hurt when you told me you were leaving.”

His words were stronger than his eyes, he looked up at you as his tears ran down his face. His calloused fingers came up to caress the soft skin of your cheek, wiping away the tears that stained your cheek. His free hand snaked its way around you waist pulling you close to his chest, his lips meeting yours as he silently told you everything that he could never find the words to say.

__________

You sat in the garden of your home, your parents had bought you and Katsuki a house to celebrate your fifth anniversary. It was decently sized, not too big yet not too small. It was just right. And just for you, they had gotten on with a garden. A place where your quirk thrived.

You had a deep emotional connection with the plants around you, so when you were happy, the plants were strong and healthy. When you were sad they withered. And when you were angry...... let's just say your lover will never get on your bad side ever again.

You sat on a bench, surrounded by your favorite plant. All of them blooming as if the sun was at its highest when it was the moon. You smiled as you got to your favorite part of your book before a voice interrupted you.

“Ma belle,” you let out a small giggle as you heard your boyfriend use his broken French. “Yes, mon loup?” you continued reading your book, paying your lover no mind.

“We have known each other for a very long time correct?” he started slowly, you only hummed in agreement curious as to where he was going with this. “So, lately I have been thinking. Since you know we have this new house and there are all these spare rooms.” you looked up from your book to see his face a light shade of pink. “Darling, are you saying that you want to start trying for a baby?” you asked cautiously.

With those words, you saw him nod with a small ‘Yeah that,’. “My family won't approve of a child outside of marriage ‘Suki. You know this,” you giggled, looking up at him.

“I had a feeling you were going today that so I came prepared,”

The statement left you shocked, to say the least. What did he mean he came prepared?

Your breath caught in your throat when he got down on one knee, in the palm of his hand sat a red velvet box. And right in the middle, sat a beautiful diamond ring that glistened in the moonlight. “I thought about this moment for a long, long time and every time I imagine it, its not perfect enough to do you justice. And I wish I knew how to do this in French because I know how close you are to the culture and......” he looked up at you to see your expectant eyes.

“And I'm rambling, but I did go to your father first for his blessing because I know how he is old fashioned like that. And I asked him to teach me a phrase that describes you perfectly.” this caught your attention.

“What is it?”

“L’amour de ma vie, will you marry me?”

He didn't your answer because he already knew it. He saw how the plants around the both of you swayed. Once he placed the ring on your finger, you both shared a very loving kiss. It expressed all the emotions that words simply couldn't.

“I have a surprise of my own, Katsuki.” you murmured as you both pulled away. These words caught his attention, he looked you in the eyes as you said it. Once you did he swept you off your feet and showered you with kisses, this night was one of happiness and love.

“I’m pregnant,”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hewitts / Pleasant Valley x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: The Multiverse Theory and the Horror Fandom 

Notes: 

I don't really know what it is, but I enjoyed creating it, so I’m posting it! If I get an idea as to what might happen next, I’ll probably add a part two. 

Its crack

Plot: 

Okay, you are from this universe and you are your Slasher fucker self. But you’re transported from your home, to the universe that the Slashers live in, specifically 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They capture you of course and decide to keep you.

Now the Hewitt’s have decided to go on a roadtrip and are of course taking you, their hostage, with them.

They end up staying in Pleasant Valley, despite your warnings not to. 

Warnings: Mention of real life people, breaking of the 3rd wall, if you look then there is some hints towards sexual assault cursing. Its comedy though mostly, so its pretty okay

~~~

“We’re lost.”

“No, mama, we not lost. We’re just taking the scenic route… “Hoyt transparently bullshits, looking around completely lost at the surroundings that we pass at a 100 km/h. Nothing but wheat fields and cows as far as the eye can see. Georgia is even more boring then Texas had been.

Luda Mae rolls her eyes, not taking any his shit after 6 hours in the car with him just today. God, I’m on her side. Can we stop somewhere just for a little bit? I mean, I don’t have to pee anymore since I held it for so long that the urge went away, but I’d still like to try because now I feel like I’m going to explode at any time. “So, we’re lost.” She announces, leaving no room for argument.

“Definitely lost… “Monty, in the seat beside me in the back seat of Hoyt’s tiny sheriff car, agrees with his sister, also watching the fields go by moodily. Why didn’t we take the goddamn truck, anyway? I would rather be tied to top of that, then squished back here between Thomas and Monty. I mean, there’s not even any doorhandles in the back here! Why did I have to be in the middle? Its not like I’m going to throw myself out the window! Sometimes I think Hoyt’s paranoid. And I hate him. And his ego’s too big.

Of course, Hoyt snaps back at Monty even though what he said was so mellow. It certainly didn’t have the amount of pent up frustration that Luda Mae’s had behind it. “We ain’t lost, goddamn it- Look! There’s a town. We’ll stop there and ask for directions if you really want. Just to make sure we’re going the right way, which I’m sure we are.” I look up from my hands, bruises all over the wrists from Hoyt and the ropes, and cuts all over the fingers from cooking with Luda Mae… and jagged fingernails from before I gave up. When I was still scratching at the walls and floor and Thomas, wanting to escape this mad family.

My fighting spirit isn’t completely crushed, now… but it has been a while since I screamed for help. I’m waiting for the moment, the right moment to try and escape. Of course, I don’t know if that moment will every come… but I still hope. And that’s something.

Now, looking up out the front window to see the town Hoyt’s talking about, I wonder if this will be the place that I’ll escape in.

Then we rush past the sign and I do a double take.

What did that say?!

I glance at Thomas, my designated warden to see what he’s doing now since he had been sleeping for most of today’s trip- yesterday he had stayed awake and alert, but today it seems that he decided I wasn’t about to crawl over anyone and creep through the window so it was cool to nap,- to see he’s alert, and when I look at him he turns to look at me back. I flash him a fake smile and turn to Monty, because he speaks. And he’s on the right side of the car, so he would have seen the sign.

“Hey, what did that sign say?”

“Why are they talking again?” Hoyt pipes up in the front as we get nearer to the town and I start to feel sick in my stomach. I raise my eyebrows at Monty instead of answering Hoyt’s goad.

Monty shrugs, leaning his back on his hand and looking out the window again. “Uh, Pleasant Valley.”

Oh my god.

It cannot be possible that more then one Horror movie exists in this world… right? I’ve been through enough trauma; I do not need to endure Robert Englund’s trademark craziness- oH, or Bill Mosely’s either. Oh god, - and his band of confederate lunatics. Do not do this to me, universe.

My heart’s beating faster then a bullet train as I wait, still as a statue and straight backed, for any more hints that I am where I think I am.

Thomas watches me with a hard stare, alert and suspicious about my odd change in posture and body language. I try to ignore him, which is of course hard, but I make do.

Then we start to pass people in this town, and they’re men in overalls and women in the most era-incorrect costumes I have ever seen. And they’re smiling and waving at us.

And I feel sick, and sink back into my seat so nobody outside can see me through Monty or Thomas, hopefully.

“Hoyt,” I call, quietly for the ‘sheriff’s’ attention. My voice doesn’t lift even to a normal volume, I’m so scared so he either ignores me or really doesn’t hear me. I try to be louder. “Hoyt!”

“Yes, hostage?”  

“I think we’re going the right way as well; I saw sign on the road a few miles back that said so. We should just keep going.”

“What?!” Luda Mae turns in her seat to look at me furrow her eyebrows- she doesn’t believe me one bit. “What are you doing, slouching in the back like that? Sit up!”

“Are we stopping?”

“Uhh… “She turns to look at Hoyt, and he nods. “Looks like it. About time, too. I need to stretch my legs, and we obviously need those damn directions.”

“We do not need the- “Hoyt sighs, exasperated, then furrows his eyebrows as he focuses on something in front of the car. “What the fuck are these wackos all doing out there in the middle of the road? Get outta my way… “

Mow them over, Hoyt! MOW THEM OVER.

Of course, he slows to a crawl and then a stop, and I thank god that the back windows don’t open, lest I feel any more in danger. If they were open, I definitely would have feared scary ghost cannibals would stick in their hands. As it is, cross my arms and let Hoyt do the talking. Of course, I mean. What else could I do?

I can see full frontal the mess that we’re getting into, which once upon a time in a different world -my world. Oh, how I wish I was there right now, - would have been a good sign. Seeing Kane Hodder, Robert Englund and Lin Shaye and the ‘Guts and Glory Jubilee’ banner would be a sign I’m about to have a good night full of horror movie enjoyment and probably fanfiction as well. But now I see it and I wish to never watch that movie again, much like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise.

Hoyt puts his hand on the car door handle next to him. “No, no, no, don’t get outta the car!” I exclaim, quietly and reaching to grab him back but he looks over at me, gives me a ‘I do what I want’ kind of look and then gets out of the car.

“Good afternoon, sheriff! Welcome to our Guts and Glory Jubilee! You’re our honoured guests!”

Oh, dear god.

Hoyt slams his car door shut and Luda and I wince at the sudden noise. “What the hell are you people doing out here in the middle of the road??! Me and my family are tryna get through here.”

“Aw, my bad sheriff! We’re just so tickled to have you with us this fine day!” Buckman doesn’t seem stirred that Hoyt’s clearly southern, and therefore ‘confederate’, like him, as far as he’s concerned which is what I was hoping for, so I decide to blow this whole situation out of water- I have no choice.

And what, in hell’s name, could I possibly lose at this point?

I lean forward in the car, keeping an eye on the scene, to talk to Luda Mae. “Hey, so this may be a bad time to mention this but, uh.” How do I break this news? “Well, I’m from a different universe. That multiverse noise? That’s real. Anyway, more importantly, I’m from a world in which you and your sons, and Monty, are just movie characters. Your movie is called ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, Thomas is the Texan Chainsaw guy and he is called Leatherface.” Luda’s slowly turning her head to look at me like have 7 eyeballs. I keep talking through, quickly ad feverishly, desperate. “I know it sounds crazy, and you can ask me any question about ya’ll’s passed if you want as proof but just get your son back in this car please. This place also has its own movie, and its even less pretty then what goes on in your house.” I look pleadingly at her, hoping to God, by some miracle she believes me.

“Sit back down!! I’ve been in a car with 3 sweatin’, stinky men for 6 hours now today and I am in no mood for your stories.” She turns back in her seat. “God.”  

“Oh Jesus, you said it… “ I whine, plopping back down in my seat, looking at Hoyt and Buckman who have now met in front of the car and aren’t yelling at each other across the road and immediately assume the fucking confederate mayor is successfully feeding the fucking fraudulent sheriff’s ego, and drop my face into my hands. A few minutes pass, and I stay like this, occasionally making frustrated crying sounds without really crying, and getting annoyed groans and ‘shut up’s from Monty beside me, until a hit to the car jolts me up. “What! What? What’s happening- are they attacking!?”

Everyone who heard, ignores me and I see it’s just Hoyt coming around the car opening Thomas’ side. Oh god, breeze has neve felt so terrifying. “Come on out, family. We’re stayin’ the night! I can’t tolerate settin’ in this car with you people anymore.” On no. No, no, no. STAYING?

Thomas gets out and Luda Mae follows, opening Monty’s door for him and letting him out onto his wheelchair that Thomas gets out of the trunk for him and unfolds. I cross my arms and stay inside. When Hoyt realises this, he leans down to peer inside the car at me and thrusts a thumb to point behind him. Slowly, menacingly he drawls. “Get out of this car.”

Oh, what is he going to do? What could he possibly do that he hasn’t already done to me.

I stubbornly look away. “You said family, I’m not family. I’m not leaving this car, no way. You can’t make me.”

“You wanna bet, sugar?”

He reaches in, wraps a calloused hand around one of my arms and starts pulling me until I topple out of the car, into the dirt. He lets go of me and immediately slams the car door closed again so I don’t slither back in.

“Fuck.” I mutter, glaring up at him from the floor. He locks the car in front of my eyes.

“Now, when you’re feeling more like an adult and not a child, you can come on to our room- that building over there. “ I feel like running after him when he walks off to the building, but before I can get myself out of the dusty, beige dirt, a hand enters my vision and I follow it up and scream on the inside. Mayor George Fucking Buckman.

He smiles so charmingly… you could nearly believe he isn’t depraved. Then I see the eyepatch and I’m reminded. “Would you let me help you up outta the dirt, little miss?”

Mmmm, I guess.

Best to stay on his good side, I think as I take his hand and he hauls me up. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those glares that the whole town like to take part in with him. Noooo thank you. Not for me.

“Thank you.” I say quickly, looking to get out of there and find the Hewitt’s. They’ve all disappeared into the building Hoyt went towards a moment ago now. I brush the dirt off my pants and then clap my hands off of each other to get rid of the dirt that’s on them now, and any remnants of feeling Buckman’s hand, then flash a tight smile in Buckman’s general direction and escape towards the building.

They have to listen to me!

I burst into the place and see Thomas trailing behind the rest of that devil family down a hallway and run down there. “Thomas!” I pant, because that was a long hallway. Where are we now?! The Overlook hotel!?! “Thomas, what kind of warden are you? Please, don’t you ever leave me alone with that man ever again!” Thomas narrows his eyes suspiciously at me above his normal, leather mask -Luda and Hoyt had decided before we left their murder mansion that the human flesh mask would probably not fly in normal society, so he swapped it in for the old one,- then nods in front of him for me to walk there where can watch, and I gladly go there.

___TIME SKIP: A couple hours later___

All day, I have been trying to persuade the Hewitt’s that I’m not from here. I described Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning in explicit detail, including of course the Sheriff Hoyt thing, the Eric/Dean confusion, Bailey, Monty’s legs being chainsawed off… I even recruited some comic book information about Hoyt’s time in the Prisoner of War Camp and Sargent Chow, but they just think I’m a stalker now.

I mean, why the fuck not? Why wouldn’t I stalk these freaks? Truly, being around them has been a joy filled time.

I don’t throw back at my face that I watched their movies religiously, readers. That’s was when I thought they were fictional! (Yeah, I know you’re there reading this. This sure feels like a fanfiction to me, and as a fangirl, I’m an expert.)

So, I’ve decided I have one more option. One more chance to survive.

Hopefully this doesn’t go worse then plan A did.

Through pretending like the rope around my wrists was too tight when Hoyt tied me up by the hands to his bed frame, when really in truth it was a bit loose, I manage to make him think I’m stuck for the night. So, when he falls asleep – I know he’s asleep because he snores like a feral racoon… that also has rabies… (He drools) – I carefully, quietly, I struggle out of the ropes and carefully put them on the floor. Then turn to the window.

We’re on the second level of this building, but the possibility of a broken bone or two will not deter me from getting out of this mess. Especially since Thomas is waiting in the hallway outside this room for any sign of me trying to escape and getting hurt from falling out of a window is much preferred to meeting the business end of his chainsaw.

Not that I’ll be out of danger when I get out… as I’ll still be in Pleasant Valley… but I will have completed Level 1 at least.

Opening the window, I wince and look back at Hoyt to make sure the gentle rubbing sound the window makes against the frame doesn’t wake him, then turn back and immediately get to crawling out. Once I have succeeded in getting onto the ledge I hold on to the gutter - hoping beyond hope that it’s sturdy, - and reclose the blinds and push the window closed as well again. Covering my tracks.

Then I start the perilous journey down the building, which somehow, I succeed in! When I finally drop down on the dirt again and turn around though, I nearly out loud this time. “Miss Shaye! -“I stop myself, making an ‘Oop’ sound. You would think I would stop making these mistakes- I have been tortured and keep prisoner by the Hewitt family. Certainly not the late R. Lee. Ermey or Andrew Bryniarski either. The Hewitt’s. - But alas, I am still making this mistake apparently. “Sorry, you remind me of someone else!” I smile at Granny Boone, who must have been standing there watching the whole time I conquered the hotel building, stands with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow purposely halfway up her forward. She’s waiting for an explanation. “I didn’t want to wake up my family, and its time for the midnight stroll. Couldn’t sleep!”

My heartbeat races in my chest, because I have every confidence that this woman could kill me with her bare hands if she doesn’t like my answer. For a few moments, she makes me wait as she does looks at me suspiciously like Thomas. Oh god, are you going to eat me or not, ghost lady!?

“Oh, well that’s very considerate of you! Could I join you on your walk? I’m in the same boat.”

Oh, for fudges sake.

I smile politely though, and we start walking side by side down the middle of town. Silence hangs between us, but as we walk, I start to think this could work. I was planning on finding Buckman and telling him my story to see if he would believe me and do something because this whole town is supernatural and hard to believe, but I actually think this may have worked out in my favour! Maybe. He’s a sexist, chauvinistic bigot. But at the very least Boone’s a woman like me, with less of a boner for authority so hopefully she’ll at least listen. So… maybe…?

“So… “I start, sounding loud since it’s so quiet out here. “Can we talk? Woman to woman? I don’t know, you just seem trustworthy!” Oh, puke. What am I saying? “Sorry if I’m out of line, but… something crazy’s going on in my life.”

“Oh, trust me. I know crazy.” I side eye her as she smirks ‘mysteriously’. Oh, I know you know crazy, lady. I know. I know it all. You know crazy intimately. “Uh but go on. Sure thing. What kind of good Christian lady would I be if I didn’t bend an ear to our esteemed special guests?”

… Uhuh.

Well, okay! Works for me. “Thank you.” I clap my hands together. “Well. It started a month ago now, I guess… Haven’t really been able to keep up with time. First, I should probably explain the multiverse theory…”

[alchemist-shizun]

The Eyeless Cat

Part of the Welcome to Night Vale AU

Ts taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Word Count: 2,195

Characters: Deceit, Virgil, Roman, (Logan is mentioned)

Pairing(s): implied Loceit

Warning(s): eye injury, stitches mention, injured animal (please tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: Beware, the town's mascot appears to have found a new peculiar feline! Does it come for war or peace? Does it come aware of its conditions? Does it come? Does it at all? How many cats is Night Vale going to be filled with? Follow the subsequently solved mysteries with our two favourite beings.

A/N: Did someone order Deceit being excited about cats? The Night Vale aura might be a bit more off than the last fic but e h I'm trying my best. As well as Deceit might seem a bit ooc too as apparently I thought all of his dialogues in Cecil's voice (did I almost write Cecil and Carlos instead of Deceit and Logan? yes). I swear I will actually bring you Logan too, just you wait for me to write the 100th episode. That being said hope you enjoy! (Not all the events are actually taken from wtnv)

✾

❝ I'll morph to someone else

Defense mechanism mode ❞

« It was admirable how suddenly our favourite, and of course only, station cat was able to move from his spot. It did already happen once, back then when that ... devilish company unleashed an unharmful-looking beast that attacked him. » Deceit's voice lowered in a mix of repressed rage and regret.

Despite being in the past, memories would always come back to haunt you; sometimes they found you in a dark alleyway, sometimes they hovered over you when you pretended to sleep.

The black of the night seemed to be the most efficient medium to reminisce.

But other times all you needed was a detail, it would grasp your mind and never let go until you experienced second hand feelings from your past self. Everything at once in a matter of milliseconds.

When Deceit had seen Khoshekh's, or, rather, Virgil's cat body half bitten away by that horridly misleading creature, oh how deeply he had wished for his hands to be able to crush the toughest material.

The anger had soon left his skin and made way to concern and worry and that sense of impending doom impossible to ignore which set on the pit of his stomach.

It was one of the scariest days of his life, scarier than that one time he had almost died.

« And then he just … jumped out! I wasn't going to stop him, everybody knows cats can survive jumps from great heights. Like that one time Jasper,  Derek's cat, had jumped from the tallest building of Night Vale and landed on his paws without a single scratch. That, of course, was thanks to the enormous wings attached to his body, which we learn that cats tend to grow around the age of five months old. Adorable! »

The fondness of Deceit towards said animals could be touched between the radio waves. He straightened his posture in his seat and leaned over his microphone.

« I simply looked out of the window, bending slightly towards the outside to witness what Khoshekh had in mind. And, listeners, you will never believe this. » Deceit smiled through the anticipation. « There was another cat right next to him! His fur was of a soft orange alternated with whiter stripes, but, sadly, I wasn't able to catch the eye colour. I couldn't believe myself when I saw them interact; Khoshekh made his first friend and we will celebrate this and welcome this new friend in our community with the warmest greetings we've gathered in our hearts. »

A shuffling of papers was heard while his tone shifted again. « More on the possible blossoming of a beautiful friendship as soon as we get more news on the matter. Let me take you to the weather. »

And the blasting of guitars started.

Deceit wasn't sure how long that weather was going to be: lately they had carried on for hours, almost forgetting about the passage of time which stretched and renewed with every instant, giving it no purposeful meaning.

This could only hold one significance: he was safe to visit Virgil once again, to check on him and see whether there were updates on the stranger cat or not.

It had been a long day.

Their search for a new intern hadn't yet been resolved; it's not like none desired to undertake the task, but they were literally still looking for their newest intern who had just applied.

It was a pretty young boy who had just moved to Night Vale for the sole purpose of working in the radio's internship so he could be more comfortable in the upcoming play he was going to star in. But, ever since he had applied, he had never been seen, nor he had ever shown up.

Deceit had been moving as if on autopilot, his body did the exact same trajectory for as long as he had wanted to check on Virgil.

He would make his way to the bathroom, wait for his friend to feel comfortable enough to appear in anthropomorphic form, talk to Virgil and then go back to make his last recording before finally going back home, unless the weather lasted for more than four minutes.

But this time he found himself out in the pavement next to the station's building, observing Virgil's moves.

The younger boy was in his cat form, staring directly at the corner of the station, as though he had been expecting something to happen for hours and hadn't yet gotten any sign.

« Waiting for someone? »

Virgil turned, his black fur like a speck of void sitting in the air. In a moment, a pale face was glancing back at Deceit, dark circles linked the white skin to the colourful tones of his left eye.

« There's something odd. » he mused with his arms crossed over his chest, the same spot he had gotten stitches on some weeks earlier. Deceit shook off the memory for the second time that day.

It was okay, nothing had happened.

« Isn't there always? What is odd, anyway? »

« I know, but- this is another kind of odd. »

Deceit let out an amused huff and walked closer. « You're starting to sound like Logan. »

Ever since the bio-machine attacked Virgil, he had stayed at Deceit and Logan's place to recover his broken bones and … trying to readjust to his previous life while dealing with all the injuries, the missing right eye he was now covering with his bangs …

And that was where he had started to pick up their habits, on a brighter note. They both found it delightfully precious.

« It feels different when he's around. »

« He? »

« The other cat. The orange one. » Virgil gestured to a spot, but Deceit saw nothing else other than a bench. « It's like he holds my own aura, he's more like me than he is like other cats. Not like Jasper, or Copernicus. »

« You think he can shape-shift like you? » Deceit tried to follow his connections.

« I'm not a shape-shifter. » Virgil had repeated for the millionth time, followed by a quick “Of course you aren't.” of his interlocutor. « I simply appear. » he added, scrunching his lips to the side afterwards, eyes narrow as he stared ahead of himself again.

He couldn't quite put his finger on that newcomer yet.

Now the newcomer was standing right in front of them, a few meters away, looking at- well, actually …

« Oh, those are some pretty red eyes! » Deceit approached, careful not to upset the feline, which at first backed away, but was far more comfortable when he sensed the soft and measured movements of the man.

He crouched down to him and looked at two little pinkish eye sockets. Deceit turned to Virgil.

« This poor creature doesn't have eyes? » he gazed back at the cat's face, which seemed to be able to capture where the man exactly was even with the lack of sight.

« Yeah, but that's not what's off about him. » the other clarified, while Deceit had already befriended the cat and had started petting its head, cooing at how cute he was.

The cat seemed to soften under his gloves' touch. « Oh, I think nothing is off about this gorgeous little buddy. » a wide ridiculous smile spread on his lips when he turned to Virgil. « Come here, he's very nice. »

Virgil rolled his eyes and complied, kneeling down next to them. He tentatively raised a hand and slowly caressed the back of the cat's body.

« We should name him. »

« Oh, please, you would end up with absurdities- What even is Khoshekh? »

« Excuse you? First of all, it's wonderful and second, you definitely love it- »

« I do not. »

« -You do. Now, who shall this new pal be? »

Virgil promptly picked the cat up without any other warning, surprisingly getting no other response from him other than a mute “Oh, alright, I'm being lifted off the ground I suppose. Neat.”

« I'm not going to stand here and watch you ruin his reputation for the rest of his days. » he started to back away, subtly amused.

« You're so dramatic. » Deceit snickered as Virgil clutched the animal to his chest.

« Thank you, I took that after you. »

« Come on, he can't just be “that orange cat”. »

« Why not? »

« He deserves a proper name. »

« You don't give proper names, Dec. »

« Then what would you think a proper name would be? »

The cat in Virgil's arms abruptly disappeared.

Instead, in them there was now a boy around his age, just a little taller than him, and just a little too close for Virgil's personal space.

« Uh … » he didn't move, not free from the other's arms yet. « How about “Roman”? »

Virgil blinked once, then twice and three times, disbelief still washed over him as he let go instantly after regaining his composure.

« You're … » just like him! « … the new intern? » Deceit questioned, remembering how familiar that name sounded. Pieces were all coming together: of course people couldn't find him, they hadn't been looking for the right creature.

« Oh! Yeah, that. I apologize, I might have missed the first few days but- » Roman cut off, looking down at his own body as if that would have explained his absence. « I got stuck. I had no idea I could do that. » despite his composed tone, confusion and mild agitation were still accompanying his face's features. A face with eyes, differently from his cat form.

« Oh well, there's always a first time as they say. Maybe Virgil could help you control that so you can still work for us? » Deceit regretted his own words the second he captured Virgil's death stare at the new citizen.

Trustworthiness of rare beings of your own kind coincidentally moving to your town wasn't going to be an easy effort. Especially when it came to him.

« Mh? » the new intern looked at the boy in question and put on the friendliest face he could muster. « Charmed to meet you, I'm Roman. » as he was extending his hand for Virgil to shake, the other began to walk back to the radio station's bathroom without a single word.

Words, in fact, were more Deceit's thing than his own.

« Aw, don't mind that. » he chirped, clasping his hands together. « Walking away from conversations is an open invitation to seek your interlocutor's company once again. I learnt that at the social interactions course in the community college. »

All he gained was a perplexed glance from Roman. « That's rather odd. »

Deceit tilted his head to the side, eyeing him cautiously. « Where … did you go to school again? »

« Uhm, New York City? »

New York City? he thought, that's not a real place.

Deceit brushed it off as Roman simply wanting to impress him. « Well then, new yorker, I guess, you might as well follow me inside; I'll show you around the place so we can get started. »

They stopped right before the entrance. « Ah, do not be bothered by station management, they will stare at you until their necks aren't able to turn anymore, which is normally around 437,27 degrees. » Deceit showed Roman one of his most encouraging smiles. « It's their way of greeting you, you'll get used to it. »

Roman blinked multiple times before he was able to process the information and follow Deceit inside.

✾

« Listeners, I have such exciting news I can't wait to share! » the pitch of Deceit's voice increased slightly. « So, in the past few hours where the weather took place, I had the pleasure to meet our newest intern, who's taking the place of our latest, as the passage of roles requires. » he waved at his current colleague. « His name is Roman and he's from … a place. A place on the earth, smiling at the sky with the same intensity as our desert town is yelling at the moon. Sorry about that, moon. We're trying to be better. »

Deceit shifted in his seat. « As well as we're trying to look out for any comforting sign the stars, any soothing sound in the wind or any pacifying rumble in the ground. But the important thing is: you're here and you're trying. Whichever option flows your way, bound yourself to it and let it hypnotize you into the eternal slumber of vigorous impetuosity. »

He let his temple rest on his hand. « Stay tuned next for quiet yelling and boisterous nothingness. » a smile crept on his lips when he realized he was very close to returning home to his boyfriend. « And as always, goodnight, Night Vale. » the smile grew wider.

« Goodnight. »

[sakuwriteshere]

The Apple Pie in My Life - Chapter 9 : Lies

Summary: What happened between two best friends when someone messes with their lives? Can the past changes the future or can the future changes the past?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Abbigail, OC James, OC Alex, OC Purson

Words count: 3707 words

Warnings: Angst, cursed words, mention of vomiting, betrayal

A/N: As per usual, this is unbetated and I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or error spelling. Comments are loved!

Chapter 9 : Lies

Everything around you felt heavy and weird, like in an eerie dream you knew you were having but couldn’t wake up from. You didn’t know how long it has been nor how you ended up here, but there you were, sitting in the brothers’ motel room, surrounded by people that felt like strangers. The five of you were silent, except for the few sniffling sounds Abbigail made as she calmed down slowly. You took the glass of cold water Sam handed you and drank it at a slow pace. To be honest you didn’t know what you were doing, you went on autopilot mode since James had dropped the news like a bomb: they came from the future and you and Dean were (or will be?) their parents.

“H-how?” You asked in a strangled voice, your throat feeling dry despite the water you’d just drank.

Sam looked at you pitifully. You would think he would be more whiplashed than that after a news like this. He should feel the same way like you or his brother were feeling right now, unless…

Your head snapped in Sam’s direction, the both of you having a silent conversation. Slowly his pitiful face turned into an apologetic one.

He knew. That bastard knew and didn’t say anything!

You looked away, refusing his silent apology and your eyes fell on his big brother. Dean was sitting on the floor, in a corner of the room, his knees bent, elbows resting on them while his hands supported his head. Judging by the way he was staring at the floor, Dean was as shocked as you were.

“How long?” You asked Sam, avoiding his eyes.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and took his time to answer you, he was choosing his words carefully.

“I suspected something very quickly.” He started to explain. “I just had the confirmation a few days ago.”

“And you kept it from us? From me ?” Dean finally spoke for the first time, an angry glare directed at his brother.

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, feeling bad for betraying his own brother.

“I thought... I thought you suspected something too.” Sam tried to justify himself. “I mean, look at them! It’s kind of obvious when you think about it.” He waved a hand towards the twins but you refused to look at them.

“‘Obvious’?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, Sam! Meeting your kids from the future is something so obvious! Why didn’t I think about that before?” You didn’t care if you hurted him at this point.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Sam said but the tone of his voice didn’t sound as sorry as he said. “They didn’t want me to let you know. They were scared it would change the future if you knew the truth.”

You understood their reasons but you weren’t going to let them know that. You had every right to feel angry. It wasn’t the first time a Winchester betrayed you, after all.

“The thing is,” Sam said after a moment. “I think the past has already changed. Your actual past is different from the one they know.”

Since no one spoke, Sam kept on going with his theory.

“Something happened between the both of you in our past and I think Purson is behind all of it. If we don’t do something the kids might disappear.”

Dean and you reacted right away hearing this. The idea of something happening to them felt like a slap in the face.

“What do you mean?” You and Dean asked at the same time, and for the first time you look at each other in the eyes.

“In their...huh...time?” Sam wasn’t sure how to explain this. “The two of you are like two peas in a pod but here you’re at each other's throat, literally.” You and Dean nodded, agreeing with that fact.

“I’ve been researching and there’s not a lot of information about this demon. I just know that he’s the guardian of the past, present and future. So, I think for whatever reasons, he went to the past and changed yours and Dean’s which will affect your future and by extension, the twins’.”

Dean stood up and came closer to Sam, the shock of learning he’s a father subsided a bit, leaving him in hunter mode.

“If you’re right and that demon really changed our past, how come the kids are still here?” He asked his brother.

“We’re not born yet, in this timeline.” James thought out loud, then turned his face to look at his sister.

Abbigail cocked her head on the side and thought deeply.

“We’ve followed him in this kind of portal. Maybe we’re not dead yet because we’re not even born here?” She tried.

“Yes. Yes!” Sam snapped his fingers, understanding where the kids were going. “All of this resulting in some kind of a…”

“Paradoxe.” Sam and the twins concluded at the same time, realization written all over their faces.

“Calm down Dr. Emmett Brown.” Dean said to his brother, and you couldn’t help but smile at the reference.

“No but Dean we’ve got something working with.” Sam ignored him, you could hear the gears working in his brain. “And I think I know exactly when Purson did something to change your past.” Sam added, making a face when he thought about it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“What happened during that prom night?” He asked you and his brother.

Once again, the both of you had hard faces at the mention of that particular night.

“Nothing!” You and Dean said at the same time, the anger lacing your tones.

Sam gave you a bitch face, the way you acted was clearly a sign that he was right.

“Ask him!”

“Ask her!”

You said again in one voice. Dean mirroring the surprise on your face but quickly it was replaced with bitterness. How dare he? He was the one responsible in the first place and he was going to drop everything on your back?

You crossed your arms upon your chest and focused on the ugly, dirty wall next to you, refusing to look at anybody.

The room fell silent for a short moment, and Sam’s desperate sigh broke it.

“Y/N.” Sam called your name gently. He knew he wasn’t going to win over his brother so he went for the less difficult person. “Please.”

You shut your eyes and bit your inner cheek. Your resolve to keep it a secret breaking slowly. You hated thinking about that night. It was your most painful memory. That night you learned the hard way that having a normal life wasn’t possible for you. All your dreams and hopes were crushed in one second.

“Nothing happened.” You muttered sadly, you wrapped your arms around you as you fought against the tears. You hated how hopeless you felt every time you thought about that horrible night.

Since no one spoke, you kept on telling your story. “I’ve waited for your brother the whole night. He never came. See? There’s nothing to say.”

“You got balls!” Dean exclaimed, walking back and forth in the middle of the room. “Of course I wouldn’t come after what you did!”

“‘What I did’? I didn’t do anything!” You jumped from your spot, fists trembling from rage against your sides.

Behind you Sam gave the twins a reassuring squeeze, at least you were talking about that night. It was some sort of improvement.

“Oh right! Because you’re a saint! No better, you’re just like those Angels, real dicks!”

“Dean. What did she do?” Sam interfered, he needed to know Dean’s side of the story.

Dean glared at his brother, a vain attempt for him to tell his brother to let it go. He had built a strong wall around those memories. Never did he feel so betrayed since that night. Seeing you with someone else was one thing, the words you threw at him, those really hurt.

“Dean, do it for James and Abby.” Sam pleaded.

Dean shut his eyes and breathed deeply. His resolve crashing down.

“I…” He cleared his throat, the waves in his voice betraying him.

“I came the day before. I wanted to surprise you.” Dean said, a sad smile on his lips as he recalled that day.

You turned around, your brows furrowed as you didn’t remember seeing him.

“I was waiting for you in front of the highschool. When I spotted you, you were with that douche.” He spatted the last word, his face showing his disgust.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend, Alex.” Dean gave you a face, not falling for the dumb act you were giving him.

“What? No! Why are you making up things?” It was your turn to be angry. It was really a low move from him to lie and turn you into the mean one.

“It’s the truth!” Dean yelled and you were speechless when you saw the pain in his eyes.

“When I came closer you- you were so cold and distant. I didn’t recognize you.” Dean kept on going, truly decided to tell the truth.

“You could have simply told me to leave but no, you had to be mean, you had to hurt me. You were my best friend Y/N, how could you use my deepest secrets to hurt me?” He asked, tears pooling in his eyes.

*FLASHBACK*

As soon as he spotted you in front of the big main doors, Dean climbed out from his beloved Impala, excited to see you and show you that his dad let him borrow Baby for your special night. He wanted to make it special for his best friend.

His smile fell once he stopped a few meters away and saw Alex’s arm draped over your shoulders. He swore you’ve smirked when you saw him. Dean blinked at that thought and the next second he saw you kissing Alex deeply.

Dean didn’t let this bother him and came closer, greeting you and ignoring Alex perfectly.

“Hey Y/N. Long time no see, huh?” Dean tried to be casual but there was something strange about you, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” You asked, and Dean could hear the disgust in your voice when you said his name.

“Hmm, the prom night? It’s tomorrow, remember?” Once again he tried to ignore all the weird vibes he got from you. Maybe you just had a bad day?

“Right.” This time he couldn’t be mistaken, you really smirked. “The thing is, I don’t need you anymore. I’ve found better.” You said as you wrapped Alex’s neck with your arms, looking at him lovingly.

“Alex? Really?” Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that. For sure you were playing him, it was a very bad joke but Dean couldn’t understand your humour sometimes.

“Hey don’t act like you’re better than him!” You replied angrily. “You Winchesters, always thinking so highly of yourself. You’re just trash! A real pain in my ass.”

Dean couldn’t speak. He had never heard you speak like that. The lack of response just fuelled you to keep going.

“We all know that you’re not the one you pretend to be, Dean. Underneath your whole ‘I could give a crap,’ bad-boy thing that there is something more going on, something ugly and so true. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool, but it's just an act. We all know that you're just a sad... lonely little kid.” You told him, the dark smile on your lips growing the more Dean’s face fell.

“And you’ll end up alone, Dean. Mommy left you, I’m leaving you. Your dad doesn’t care if you’re on your own or not…” You trailed off, at some point you had let go of Alex and walked closer to Dean, whispering all his darkest secret fears. You were so close to him, your body touching slightly and you laughed to yourself when you felt his body shaking against yours. Slowly you brought your lips to his ears and whispered what you hope would be the last nail in the coffin.

“And one day, little Sammy will leave you too.”

Dean pushed you from him violently, he looked at you with so much hate, his eyes teary. Inside you were gloating.

Without saying a word Dean left, running towards his car. The door cringed and slammed powerfully. You watched him driving away, a pleased smile all over your face.

A job well done.

***

Everyone in the room was speechless once Dean finished to tell his side of the story. You couldn’t believe your own ears. You didn’t remember any of it.

“Why are you lying?” You asked in a shaky voice.

Dean brought his face closer to you and planted his gaze in yours.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying!” He yelled at you.

You stepped back, shaking your head no. You believed him but you knew you didn’t say those things to him. Even after all those years and the bitterness you felt towards him, you wouldn’t say it. You knew Dean was scared to be left alone, his family was everything to him.

“I didn’t...I would never...You have to believe me.” You choked on your words, feeling the air leaving your lungs as you started to panic. You didn’t know what was going on anymore.

Sam pressed his body between you and Dean, a hand on each other’s chest, separating you a bit more and he gave you a reassuring smile.

“I believe you, Y/N.” He said gently.

“Sam!” Dean argued, hurt that his brother preferred to believe you instead of him.

“And I believe you too Dean.” Sam said quickly, his voice strong, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

You and Dean gave him a questioning look, not understanding how he could possibly believe the both of you. Sam’s hands fell from your chests and took a step back.

“Remember what we’re hunting. Purson is a demon. I believe you Dean when you say that Y/N had acted that way and I believe you Y/N, when you say you don’t remember any of it. There’s only one explanation possible…” Sam said calmly, everything had finally clicked together.

“She was possessed.” James and Abbigail gasped when the realization hit them.

Hearing this, your heart stopped. How could it be possible? You didn’t remember anything, you weren’t the best hunter in the world but you would remember being possessed if it happened to you.

“Think about it, Y/N. It makes sense. Purson possessed you, demons can read into your minds, knew everything you knew and used it against Dean to hurt him.” Sam explained, oblivious of your distress state.

“I would remember if it had happened. Possessed people can remain conscious, trapped in their own body. I should remember this!” You tried to find a flaw in Sam’s theory, you had to. There was no way you would accept that you’ve been possessed without knowing. There was no way something like this could make you feel so helpless.

“Not if it didn’t want you to know.” And with that simple sentence, Sam destroyed your last hope. Seeing the defeat crawling over your face he quickly added “I’ve been possessed, I know what I’m talking about.”

Knowing that even Sam could have been possessed didn’t make you feel better, on the contrary it made it worse. If even a Winchester could be possessed then, there was no hope at all.

Bringing a shaking hand over your mouth, you started to feel sick, a heavy weight down your stomach. You didn’t care anymore that you were crying, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. Without a warning you rushed into the bathroom and didn’t care if the people behind you could hear the disgusting sounds you made as you threw up into the toilets. You barely register the sound of something crashing in the other room and Dean yelling a ‘Son of a bitch’ at no one in particular.

“Why us? Why do things like these keep happening to us?” Dean asked his little brother, he knew Sam wouldn’t have all the answers but he hoped he would have this one at least, for his own sanity.

Unfortunately, just like Dean feared, Sam didn’t know, a slight shake of his head as a silent answer. Dean sighed and let his body fall heavily on one of the beds, covering his head with his hands while he thought about all those years he had lost, all the pain, fear and rage he had felt, all of this for nothing.

“Dad…” A soft and scared voice came from behind him and Dean tensed at the word, he couldn’t help himself but jerked away at the soft touch falling on his shoulder.

Abbigail stood next to him, hurt written all over her face because of his rejection. He felt bad, so bad, when he saw her face. As he learned the truth behind his past, he had forgotten that Y/N and he weren’t the only ones pushed down into this hellish mess. But Dean couldn’t help them at the moment, he knew the children, his children, needed him more than ever but this was too much, even for him.

As he gave Abbigail an apologetic glance he saw James coming closer, wrapping Abby’s body with his arms, giving her the comfort she needed.

“It’s alright Abby. Give them time.” James whispered into his sister’s hair as he embraced her strongly. Then James stared into Dean's eyes, a strange but somewhat familiar glint in his Y/E/C’s eyes. Dean knew this feeling, he’s seen it in his brother’s eyes a few times, hell, Dean knew he had this kind of flame burning in his own eyes so many times. He knew this feeling. A silent promise.

Everything’s alright. We’ll deal with it. I’ll protect you.

Even though your stomach felt empty, you stayed into the bathroom, sitting on the cold, stained tiles, one arm braced over the toilet bowl, your dizzy head pressed against it. Everything was strangely calm around you, no sound could be heard. It took you time to understand that the Winchesters and the twins had left the motel room. You accepted the loneliness gratefully. There were too many things running into your mind to let you care for the others. Your whole life was a lie, every decision you made since that awful night had been dictated because of a demon who played you. You sniffled a few times as your breath slowed down, coming back to a normal rate. The last of your tears falling down your already wet face, tears coming from the efforts and the pain as you thought about the time you lost.

Suddenly a warm, big hand came over you, stroking gently your back in a soothing manner. You felt another hand pushing away your hair on one side.

“You alright?” Asked a deep but soft voice. You squeezed your eyes even more, a sad smile lifting your lips up.

After everything, he was still the one taking care of you. Knowing what you now knew, you couldn’t understand why he was here. Between the both of you, he was the one who hurt the most. Even though it wasn’t really you, the fact that his best friend was the one who voiced his deepest fears was still a real thing. And yet, despite everything, here stood next to you, Dean Winchester. Your best friend.

Your former best friend.

It was so easy, knowing the truth, to forgive him. You still felt the pain of the betrayal of course, but how could you be mad at him for not coming that night? Who would have come after such horrible words? You pushed him away gently, giving you room to stand up. You didn’t dare to look at him as you walked toward the sink, to rinse your mouth and wiped your face with cold water.

The silence between you wasn’t as heavy as you thought it would be. Dean gave you the time you needed to compose yourself.

“Here.” He said as you turned around, finally facing him. He handed you a necklace; a silver pendant in a form of a sun surrounded by a pentagram.

You took it, narrowing your eyes at the strange object.

“To prevent demons possessing you.” Dean explained and you fell down that hole again. You thought about all the mean things you told him that day, tears pooling into your eyes once again.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Dean ordered you quickly, his voice a bit raw.

“I should be the one apologizing. I was the one who let you down.” He said, staring at the ceiling as he avoided your eyes, fists clenched tightly against his sides.

“Dean, no…” You trailed off, unsure of what you could say to make him feel better. Why did he always feel responsible for everything? You understood why he did it, you would have done the same thing. The betrayal he felt that day should have been ten times worse yours.

“We’ve lost so many years.” You murmured as you curled your fingers around one of his fists.

The touch surprised him slightly but he let you do it anyway as he lowered his gaze to see that it was your turn to avoid his eyes.

A soft smile stretched his lips as an unknown feeling warmed his body. Without thinking, Dean wrapped one arm around you, pushing your body against his, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your eyes widened at the unsuspected friendly gesture.

“It’s alright.” Dean murmured against your temple.

You closed your eyes and wrapped both of your arms around his waist, accepting the peace even if it was just for a short moment. His silent promise warming your heart and calming your nerves. You pushed back the scary ideas in the back of your mind and just enjoyed the embrace, one you’d missed for so long even without knowing it. However, deep down you knew. You knew it wouldn’t be alright.

It was already too late.

TAPiML tags:  @fandomoverdose666​​​​ , @eternaleviee , @slytherinrising​​​​ , @vicmc624​​​​ , @music-is-all-i-need​​​​ ,

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

You’re Still You - Chapter 1

Trapper John McIntyre x Hana Chigusa

Summary:  A nurse with a complicated past is plucked from her peaceful life by the draft and dropped into the 4077th. After everything life has put her through already, how will she adjust to this new, shocking setting? Especially with the kinds of characters in this M*A*S*H unit?

Tag List: None so far, let me know if you’d like to be added!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: So, I’ve decided to post my M*A*S*H fic on here. It’s with my OC, Hana Chigusa, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading her as much as I’m enjoying writing her! Dear Heart (Remastered) is still in the works, though, no worries there! 

Warning(s): None :)

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

Kimpo Airport was dry. The thin air in this part of Korea brought back memories that Hana would rather forget. Which explained her being at the bar now, a mouthful of warm vodka burning her throat, because even the chatter of the other personnel around her and the rumble of vehicles outside couldn’t drown out the reminders the heat and dust brought to the forefront of her brain. 

She took another sip of her drink. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easing her bitterness either. Fresh out of nursing school, she had expected to get orders to serve in a hospital in Seoul or Tokyo. Somehow, she ended up being assigned to a MASH unit just miles from the front. They were throwing her right to the wolves.

War didn’t necessarily frighten her. But the Army certainly did. As the bar disappeared behind her eyelids, she vividly recalled her mother’s face when the draft notice came through. The tearful, horrified look. The disappointment in her voice when Hana said she would go.

“How can you join these people?” her mother questioned. “After everything they did to us?”

“Mama, you know I can’t refuse,” Hana returned. “You saw what happened to Shinji.”

“You think I’d forget that?” her mother challenged. “My own son! And now they want to take you too!”

“Even if they let me live, I’d be sent to prison,” Hana shot back, choking on the lump in her throat. “I cannot be locked up again, Mama! I won’t!”

Her mother’s lip trembled and she thrust the summons into Hana’s hand. 

“You disgrace yourself serving them,” she spat. 

Hana tried to blink away the tears, but they fell anyway. “Mama…”

Her mother turned her back on her, and that was the last they saw of each other.

“Lieutenant - uh - Cheeg - uh - nurse - um -” 

A stammering corporal pulled Hana out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and turned to the side, certain he was looking for her, judging by his frantic glances around and the struggle to pronounce the last name. That usually meant her.

“Chigusa?” she called irritably.

His eyes found hers before looking at the paper and then back at her face. He nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

She took pity on him. He was just a kid, after all. Barely five feet tall with a knit cap topping off his baby face. His round glasses added to his wide-eyed, innocent look.

“That’s me,” she said, sliding out of her chair to stand on her feet. “Nurse Hana Chigusa.”

“But your paper says -”

“Hana’s fine.”

She hardly ever went by Hanako anymore. Hana - which she pronounced like the western name “Hannah” - allowed her to blend in with people outside her own community. That was another fight she had with her mother, more than once, but she couldn’t let herself go there now.

“And what’s your name, corporal?” she asked. 

“Radar O’Reilly, ma’am,” he replied, saluting her first with his left hand before quickly correcting it to the right, only to drop the paperwork he carried. 

She giggled, picking it up for him. 

“At ease, Radar,” she said gently. “And for future reference, remain at ease around me. I’m not regular Army.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed, relaxing. 

She handed him the paperwork and he took it gratefully.

“Are you ready to go, ma’am?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll just pay my tab.”

She dropped what was probably too much money on the counter beside her empty glass, but she didn’t care. She was ready to get where she was going. Then, she followed Radar outside where a jeep was waiting. In the passenger seat sat a man wearing a bright orange day dress and a wide brimmed straw hat, secured by pink ribbon around his chin. He had white gloves and white pleather shoes, which also matched his belt. The handbag in his lap was black satin with a pearl button clasp.

Hana blinked, not wanting to stare since it was rude, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He smiled kindly at her and wiggled his fingers. 

“Hi there,” he said. “Max Klinger. Nice to meet you.”

“Hana,” she replied, still stunned, her eyes roving over him to make sure she was seeing him right. She stopped at his legs. “What no stockings? And with unshaved legs?”

He chuckled. “It’s my face or my legs, sweetheart, and I can’t cover my face.”

She smirked as he held out a hand. He helped her up into the jeep while Radar put her bags in beside her. Then he climbed behind the wheel. 

“Say, Radar, are you old enough to drive?” she teased, and Klinger laughed. 

“Oh, yeah,” Radar replied earnestly. “My uncle taught me when I was seven. I’m nineteen now, so I’ve had lots of practice.”

She looked at Klinger for confirmation, but he only shrugged. Then, Radar turned the engine and stepped on the gas, and they were off into the Korean countryside. 

The further they got from the airport, the more stranded Hana felt. She was stuck here for an undetermined amount of time. To once again be bossed around by the Army. Only this time, she was a part of it. 

“So, lieutenant…” Klinger trailed off, realizing she hadn’t told him her last name.

“Spare me the Army stuff, call me Hana,” she replied.

He smiled at that. “So, Hana, where are you from?”

“Newport Beach,” she told him. “It’s about forty minutes south of Los Angeles.”

“Sounds glamorous,” he returned. “I’m from Toledo, myself.”

“Is that where you learned how to dress?” she asked. 

“I never dressed like this back home,” he admitted. “I just need the Army to think I’m crazy enough to get me back there.”

She chuckled. “I see. So, how far is the hospital?”

“Not far at all,” he said. “We’ll be there before you know it!”

Klinger wasn’t lying. Barely an hour had gone by before they were rolling up to the cluster of buildings that made up the hospital and camp. Once again, Hana remembered Heart Mountain, but pushed it down. She was not a prisoner here. Well, not technically. If there was anything to appreciate, it was the lack of barbed wire.

They were met at the jeep by a blonde woman whose sternness betrayed her beauty. Hana climbed out of the jeep - with help from Radar - and then the woman stuck out her hand. 

“Lieutenant Chigusa, right?” she asked.

Hana nodded, shaking her hand. “That’s right. Hana is fine, though.”

“Not in the Army it’s not,” the woman returned. “I’m Major Houlihan, head nurse here at the 4077th.”

Hana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Though she supposed it was about time she ran into someone like this. Houlihan ordered Radar and Klinger to drop off Hana’s bags at the nurses’ tent, so they could begin a tour of the facilities. Hana nodded to the corporals to give her permission, before following the major. 

“I’ll take you to your quarters last so you can rest once you get there,” she said. “We’ll start with the mess tent.”

The mess tent was typical. The food even more so. Nasty Army stuff any regular person would turn their nose up at. But Hana had eaten worse. Major Houlihan next took her to the hospital and walked her through pre-op, the scrub room, the OR, and post-op, where there were just two patients at the moment.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Major Houlihan warned. “We can have incoming casualties any minute, and you’ll need to be prepared.”

“I understand, Major,” Hana replied. 

From the hospital, they moved on to the CO’s office, where Hana said hello again to Radar before meeting Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake. He was a friendly guy, who was definitely not regular Army. He wore a fishing vest with a matching hat loaded with hooks. And he was reclined in his chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t even care that Hana didn’t salute him, and he shook her hand warmly. She liked him right away.

They went to the officer’s club next, which was evidently misnamed. A couple enlisted men were coming out just as Houlihan and Hana were going in. Hana couldn’t help but notice the major’s disapproving glare, though the enlisted guys ignored it. The two women had barely crossed the threshold when two men descended upon them. Both were tall, one had a head of thick, dark hair and blue eyes, while the other had curly, sandy hair and hazel eyes. Both had smiles that indicated mischief.

“Hello, there,” said the dark haired one. “I’m Hawkeye. You must be new here.”

“Trapper,” the other said. “Can we get your name, sweetheart? Buy you a drink to welcome you to Korea?”

Hana glanced between them in disbelief. Did they really think themselves impressive in their mismatched Hawaiian shirts and goofy grins?

“Yes, I am new here,” Hana replied coolly. “And I’m not interested.”

“Not Interested, that’s unique,” said Hawkeye. “What is that, Italian?”

Major Houlihan rolled her eyes. “Ignore these two, Lieutenant. They’re two of our surgeons, Captain Pierce and Captain McIntyre. Unfortunately, they’re very talented or they’d be out of the Army for their disgraceful behavior.”

“I’m sure the patients - despite their gratitude at being alive - are as disgusted as you, Major,” Hana replied, voice dripping with bitterness and sarcasm. 

Hawkeye and Trapper snickered.

Houlihan rankled at that. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of them!”

“I have no love for the Army, Major, make no mistake,” Hana said seriously. “I’m here because the alternative was prison. Now, are we done with this tour?”

“I’d say so,” Houlihan said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and storming out. 

Hana breathed a sigh of relief and, ignoring the giggling surgeons, made a beeline for the bar, hoping to leave Pierce and McIntyre behind her as well. But she wasn’t that lucky. The pair followed her and took seats on either side of her. She bit back a groan. Being “fresh meat” wasn’t her style. And she didn’t care for the attention of men. At least, not here.

“Sure we can’t get you that drink, Not Interested?” Hawkeye pressed. “It’s on the Army.”

She smirked and pointedly ignored him. She could see this guy thrived on attention - good or bad - so giving it to him was the last thing she would do. She looked at the bartender.

“Vodka soda, please,” she said. 

He got right to work. 

Trapper tapped her on the shoulder and she spared him a glance.

“Don’t you want to make friends here?” he asked. “Could be a long war.”

“Your eyes have been on my chest since I walked in, forgive me if I don’t believe friendship is what’s on your mind,” she returned. 

The bartender placed her drink in front of her. In Korean, she thanked him and asked his name. He appeared surprised to be addressed by someone fluent, and happily told her his name was Kwang. She offered a slight bow of her head, he bowed back, and then, beaming, starting polishing glasses.

“You speak the local?” Trapper questioned. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I learned as a child, we had Korean neighbors,” she said. 

“That’ll be helpful,” Hawkeye said. “We end up with a lot of Korean casualties here.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He nodded solemnly. It was the first honest expression she’d seen from him. 

“A lot of locals end up in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said.

“So do a lot of North Koreans,” Trapper added.

Hana’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “You mean, you treat the enemy?”

He nodded. “Of course. We’re doctors.”

Hana almost smiled. If it weren’t such a gruesome subject, she would have. She looked between these two men whose first impression had so turned her off. What a front they put up. She wondered why they hid their decency. The fact remained that it existed, and she wanted to acknowledge it.

“Hana Chigusa,” she said. 

“What?” Trapper asked.

“My name,” she said. “It’s Hana Chigusa.”

He grinned. “Nice to meet you.”

“So, Chigusa,” Hawkeye said. “That’s definitely not Italian.”

She chuckled. “I’m half Japanese.”

They remained at the bar a while, and they got to know her better. She told them about growing up in Newport Beach and her mother’s tea shop there. She told them she went to nursing school at Columbia in New York City, just to experience something new. She told them she was drafted, like them, and came reluctantly to Korea. 

“So, is the surgery really intense here?” she wondered. 

She was pretty nervous. She only had infrequent practical experience post-nursing school. Though, she had graduated at the top of her class.

Hawkeye shrugged. “It’s meatball surgery mostly.”

“Pretty basic extraction of junk,” Trapper said. “Things get more complicated if a limb’s gotta be removed or something, but we just do whatever we can to keep them alive.”

Hana nodded. It sounded about as brutal as she expected. She hoped she’d be able to endure what she would witness. She wondered if she would end up more like Trapper and Hawkeye, with a façade to cover up the ugliness of it all. Then again, she realized she already had one up. What was one more?

Suddenly, a voice came over the loudspeaker. 

“Attention!” it called. “Attention all personnel! Incoming wounded! All personnel report to the OR!”

Hana, Hawkeye, and Trapper all got to their feet. She swallowed. This was the moment to prove herself to her new co-workers. She pushed the nerves away. 

“Scared?” Trapper asked. 

She looked him in the eye with every ounce of confidence she had. 

“Nothing scares me anymore,” she told him.

Her answer perplexed him, but he didn’t have time to analyze it. All three of them jogged out of the bar and across the camp to the hospital. 

[hellomorganus]

Helen Draiz

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. The book/musical/movies belong to their rightful owners. I only own my characters.

CHAPTER 3

Helen and Camille chatted quietly amongst themselves as they cleaned and polished the grand foyer. Other maids were present in the room as well, gossiping about the missing soprano that disappeared a week ago. She left no note or clue as to where she had gone. She simply vanished. 

The bruises on Helen’s neck had been healing slowly, now an orange color instead of the dark purple. Henry had dropped the topic of how she got the bruises after their dance session in the prima donna’s room, but he still gave her weary looks as she worked. She could tell he wanted to help her around the opera house but Mr. Reyer refused to let Henry miss another day of practice. 

Mr. Firmin walked into the room, smiling down to Helen and Camille as he passed, talking to himself about the disappearance of Christine Daae and the public’s reactions. He took his time walking around all of the spots that were previously cleaned, not wanting to mess them up with her shoes. 

“Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!” Andre shouted as Firmin made it up to the top of the staircase. 

“Andre, please don’t shout,” Firmin begged, lowering his voice as he led Andre down a hall. 

Helen and Camille shared a look, biting their lips from giggling as the two men began to lightly argue. They held out letters and read them outloud, shaking their heads as they tried to think of who would send them such a thing. Helen stood from the ground, taking a hold of the bucket before walking off with Camille to finish their jobs for the day. 

“They seem to be healing quite fast,” Camille commented on the bruises lacing Helen’s neck. “They’re not as vibrant.”

Helen hummed, tracing her fingers down her skin lightly. “I’m glad,” she mumbled, looking towards her friend and not where she was going. That was a big mistake. 

She ran right into a blonde man, gasping as the water poured between their feet. She stepped back, examining the damage made, her eyes widening at his soaked pant legs. 

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, looking up at his face to find it was the new Vicomte. He clenched his jaw, looking down at his pants and shoes, breathing deeply before giving her a tight smile. “Don’t fret about it Mademoiselle.” he said before walking around and marching towards the staircase. 

“Where is she?” he demanded, climbing the stairs two by two. 

“Shit,” Helen mumbled, watching the Vicomte walk angrily towards the managers. 

“Shit indeed,” Camille laughed, getting down on her knees to dry up the spill with her cloths. 

“He’s really mad,” Helen said, crouching down to help Camille. “I hope I don’t lose my job.”

The redhead shook her head, chuckling. “Don’t worry Helen. I think he was mad before this happened. It just...might have pushed him over the edge.”

Helen nodded slowly, wringing out her soaked cloth in the bucket, shaking her head. She should have watched where she was going. 

“Where is he?” demanded a high pitched voice. Both maids turned to find a fuming Carlotta and Piangi entering the room with their entourage of maids. “Your precious patron, where is he?”

The patron, Raoul De Changy, quirked his eyebrow upwards, turning on the staircase as they approached. “What is it now?” he asked. 

“I have your letter! A letter which I’d rather resent!” Carlotta fumed, stomping her foot as she came face to face with the patron. 

“And did you send it?” asked the managers in unison. 

“Of course not!” exclaimed the blonde man, his jaw and fists clenching. 

They went on arguing for a few minutes, reading aloud the letters once more, shaking their heads as they were all signed by O.G. As the arguing progressed, none noticed Madame Giry and her daughter enter the room, standing at the bottom of the staircase. 

Madame Giry sighed in annoyance before projecting her voice so it was higher than all of the others. “Miss Daae has returned.”

Monsieur Andre seemed to be the only one who heard as he told everyone else to settle down. He then stepped away from the group, wringing the note in his hand. “Where precisely is she now?” 

Madame Giry answered quickly, frowning lightly. Her daughter took a step forward after her mother explained where she was, telling them that her best friend needed rest. 

The blonde patron’s face relaxed with relief as he took several steps down the steps. “May I see her?” he asked quietly, worry lacing behind his eyes. 

“No Monsieur, she will see no one.” she informed Raoul. 

The two maids, and several of the others who had awkwardly overheard the conversation, gave each other looks of relief. The young soprano finally returned. Maybe now all the gossip will stop on where she had gone. 

Camille and Helen sped the process up, not wishing to interfere in any way, shape or form. Helen lifted the bucket again and together they sped towards the yard to dump the water and hang the laundry. 

                                                       ~-~-~

“The Phantom seems very fond of Christine, don’t you think?” Camille thought out loud, clearing out all of the dead flowers from the prima donna’s room. 

Helen remained quiet as she shrugged, adding more water to the flowers that were still alive. “I suppose. He probably just wants a good soprano for the operas.”

Camille scoffed. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It seems more than that. Did you pay any attention to those notes?”

Helen had to admit. It did seem like he was fond of her. But she wouldn’t admit it aloud, in fear that he would strike again. “No,” she lied, placing the water down. 

The red head turned to look at the brunette, biting the inside of her cheek. She shrugged off Helen’s short reply, taking the flowers out of the room to toss them. 

The brunette, on the other hand, stopped from organizing the table, glancing at herself in the full length mirror. She walked closer to it, examining the bruises. They had gone down a considerable amount. So much so that it almost looked like they never existed. She wondered if she should risk another night in box five. Would he be there? Would he actually kill her this time?

She bit her lip, sighing as she turned to get back to work. Only one way to find out. She thought. 

They finished their duties in nearly record time, giving the girls a little less than 5 hours to do as they pleased before the sun set. Camille had opted to go walking along the streets while Helen decided to stay back. As she waved her friend goodbye, her gaze fell to box five which lay barren and dark. She couldn’t go up there now. She would have to wait until later that night. 

In the meantime, she thought about visiting the young soprano who had apparently not eaten or drank anything since her return. Maybe all she needed was a little push. 

So Helen gathered all of the things she needed, balancing the tray on one hand as she knocked. “Miss Daae?” she called, waiting for an answer. “May I come in?”

Nothing. 

Helen hummed, raising her hand to the doorknob. She opened the door slowly, finding the blonde girl sitting up in her bed, staring out of a window. At the sound of the door opening, she turned to face Helen, a glare plastered on her face. “I didn’t give you permission to come in.”

Helen smiled, shrugging as she closed the door, walking in with the tray. “You didn’t tell me to go away either,” she remarked, placing the tray on the girls bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

Christine looked her up and down before pouting and returning her gaze towards the window. “I’m fine.”

Helen had heard that phrase before. And that phrase meant the exact opposite of what was said. 

Helen nodded, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “We’ll pretend I believe you Mademoiselle.” she said, giving her a soft smile. “You must be hungry from your little adventure.”

The blonde remained still, a pout forming on her lips as the sun hid behind a cluster of clouds. 

Helen bit her lip, lifting the bowl of berries, holding it out towards the girl. “Please Miss Daae. I know you may not want to eat but you must.”

Christine glanced at the bowl in Helen’s hands before hesitantly taking it. She rested it on her knees, staring down at the colorful berries. 

Helen watched her in silence before crossing her arms, leaning back in her seat. “I’m not leaving until half of those are gone dear,” she told her, crossing her legs and swinging her foot. “None of them are poisonous if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Christien looked up from the bowl and examined her, her eyes falling on her neck for the longest time. “You’ve met him too…” she whispered, gently reaching out and moving a stray piece of hair from Helen’s neck. “He used his hands...not a rope…”

Helen frowned at the blonde, sitting up straight in her seat. “Christine...please eat. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

The blonde woman shook her head fiercely, “I do know what I’m saying! He choked you! He nearly killed you!”

Helen clenched her jaw, leaning forward in her seat. “How do you know who he is?” she asked through clenched teeth. 

Christine put the bowl of berries aside before slowly raising the sleeve from her arm, revealing a large bruise on her forearm. “He does not know his own strength.”

Helen stared at the bruise on her arm before looking up at her. “You were with him this whole time?”

Christine suddenly sat up straighter in her bed, nodding slowly. “Yes,” she mumbled, grabbing the bowl and eating a single blueberry. 

Helen could tell by her posture that the conversation was over. Christine was done talking about The Phantom. Maybe he was listening in on them?

“Well Miss Christine. Since I know your name, it is only fair you know mine,” started the maid, gently tugging the girl’s sleeve down over the bruise. “It’s Helen. Helen Draiz.”

                                                  ~-~-~

The brunette now stood anxiously outside of box five at a quarter past midnight. In her hands was her journal and pen, deciding to come without any light. She was now rethinking her decision, shaking her head. 

Would he even be in the box? What if he did kill her this time? What if he got her fired?

Helen shook her head, placing her hand on the curtain. She couldn't think like that right now. She wanted answers. Why had he kidnapped Christine? Why was her arm bruised? 

She gulped as she pulled the curtain back and walked into the dark box, freezing when she heard movement in one of the chairs. She held her breath, clutching her book tightly to her chest, expecting him to order her out of the box. 

“Erik?” came a hushed man’s voice. “You’re early.”

Helen bit her lip and took a hesitant step backwards, bumping into something. Her eyes clenched closed as a hand sprouted from the object behind her, tightly gripping her shoulder. 

“That I am Daroga.” the voice from behind her hissed. “I didn’t know we were expecting company. Did you?”

The man in one of the seats quickly stood up and spun around to find Helen in The Phantom’s tight grip. He looked between the two, shaking his head. “Let her go, my friend,” he begged. 

The Phantom only tightened his grip on her shoulder. “I warned you once about being in this box, didn’t I, Mademoiselle? Perhaps some more bruises will make you stay away.”

“No,” cried the man in front of her, reaching his hand out for them. “Release her. I’m sure she just stumbled into the wrong box, isn’t that right Mademoiselle?” he said taking a few steps closer to her. 

Helen stood tall, breathing as evenly as she could. “No sir. I came to the right box.” she replied, holding her chin up. “Phantom...could you be so kind as to release me?”

The grip on her shoulder loosened hesitantly until the hand fell away from her shoulder. She took a step closer to the man The Phantom had called Daroga before turning to face them both. “I wanted to ask you some questions Phantom.”

The tall form stood up straight, crossing his arms. Even though she could not see his face she could feel the heat of his glare. “Get. Out.”

Helen rose her brows, matching his form. “No. I only wish to speak about a few things.”

The man beside her gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should go Mademoiselle.” he begged. 

The girl pushed his hand off her. “And who are you? I wasn’t aware The Phantom had a friend.”

The man bit his lip before sighing. He looked up at the tallest form in the box before pulling out a match and lighting it. He held it between the woman and he, giving her a small smile. “I thought it was you miss.” grinned the policeman from earlier in the week. 

Helen hummed, examining the Persian man before tapping out the match. She sighed, turning to face The Phantom again. “Giving me bruises I can understand, but giving that poor soprano bruises is unforgivable.” she told him. 

She could swear she heard a few teeth in his mouth break from how hard he clenched his jaw. “You should watch what you say. I can still kill you.”

Helen let out a small shaky breath, raising a brow. “Then why don’t you?” she retorted. 

“With pleasure,” mumbled The Phantom reaching out for her neck again before the policeman jumped between them. 

“C-Can’t we keep this civil?” he begged, looking between the two. “No killing. No threats. Please?”

Helen crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at The Phantom. “Sir, where I’m from that’s all we do.” she replied, pushing past the man. She stepped closer to The Phantom. She raised a brow at him, raising her arms to her side. “If you want to kill me so bad, why didn’t you do it the first night we met?”

The Phantom glared down at her, his breathing becoming more shallow. Helen knew she was pissing him off. In fact, she was pissing herself off. 

“Tell me how she got that bruise.” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips like a mother does scolding her children. 

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 3

This chapter took me like a week to write... and the day I finished it, I wrote all of chapter 4 at once! I hope I’ve been doing a decent job portraying a character with a stutter, and I hope that I’ve been more or less tonally consistent... Let me know! Enjoy 💕👻

2200 words, rated G, NingXian, modern au, first date, et cetera

Qionglin glanced at his phone, yet again. The last time they’d met, Wuxian had slipped him a little note with his number on it, signed with a little “x”. For two days, he’d agonized over what to say; usually the only person he texted was Qing. He drafted more than a dozen messages, each time panicking and closing the app. Eloquent as ever, he finally opted for “Hi, it’s Qionglin.” He paced back and forth in his bedroom, waiting anxiously for a response. Did I wait too long? Maybe he thought I didn’t want to talk to him. What if I already blew it? I should’ve said something else... He caught sight of his face in the mirror: his cheeks were flushed and his brows were drawn so tight he was giving himself a headache. 

“Relax,” he told his reflection sternly. He took a deep breath and sighed, sinking into his desk chair. “I’m being ridiculous. It’s just a text message. Worst case scenario is he doesn’t answer.” Sometimes it helped to remind himself that things were rarely as dire as they felt. “Most likely, he’ll answer. He wouldn’t have given me his number otherwise, right?” He reasoned to the empty air. “Best case scenario…” He pondered a moment. What was the best thing that could happen? What did he want to happen? Shaking his head, he decided it was best not to hope for too much. 

He spun in his chair a few times, trying to fill the waiting. It was too early to make dinner, but too late to do much else. With little else to distract him from staring restlessly at his phone, he flicked on the TV and channel-surfed for a while. Eventually he dozed off, still sitting at his desk. A loud buzz jolted him awake. 

“Oh god,” he gasped, clapping a hand over his heart. He snatched up his phone. 1 New Message. 

“Oh god,” he said again.

A crimson-colored chat bubble read: “Hey you! :)”

Qionglin’s heart did a somersault. Logically, he knew it was absurd to get so worked up over a text message, but something about Wuxian made him feel pretty absurd. Though they’d only met a few times, Qionglin caught himself idly (and frequently) thinking about the way Wuxian’s hair swayed when he walked, or how his eyes sparkled when he cracked a joke. He’d been avoiding putting a name to this feeling, but it was starting to look like a full-blown, schoolgirl-style crush -- his first ever. He could feel the blush blooming on his cheeks. Who knew it’d be so embarrassing to have a crush?

His phone buzzed again.

“What are you doing on Friday?” 

If his heart was somersaulting before, it was doing a full acrobatics show now. Calm down, don’t overthink it… don’t get ahead of yourself… just answer the question.

“Just working. Why?” After a moment, he added a smiley face. That’s how normal people talk, right? He hit send before he could somehow fuck it up.

The three little dots appeared at the bottom of the window as Wuxian typed. Qionglin watched with bated breath as it disappeared and reappeared a couple of times. Maybe Wuxian was as nervous as he was? The thought was vaguely gratifying, however unlikely. 

Another red bubble appeared: “Wanna come to my show? I’ll give you the VIP tour ;)”

A wink! Surely that had to be a good sign!

“I’d love to!” Qionglin typed, then erased. Too strong. Be casual. He tried again. “Yeah, that’d be great!” 

“Awesome! Doors at 8, I’ll let them know you’re coming. Can’t wait!” Wuxian said, followed by a map link.

Qionglin realized he was grinning like an idiot, and he didn’t care. “I look forward to it! See you Friday!!” 

The next couple of days seemed to drag by. It wasn’t that often Qionglin had something so exciting to look forward to. He powered through his chores and farmwork, and all his downtime was spent restlessly thinking about Friday. 

Friday afternoon, he wrapped up early. He took a long, refreshing shower and pulled his hair back the way Wuxian seemed to like so much. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the wardrobe, tsk-ing softly at the rows of coarse fabrics in greens, greys, blacks and browns. Almost all of his clothes were work clothes, faded and worn; hardly rock-concert-worthy. He fished out his least-shabby pair of jeans, and a sage-colored button-down. Fashion was definitely not one of his strong suits, but as he checked his reflection, he thought he looked… decent, at least.

He drove into the city, buzzing with excitement the whole way. The radio wasn’t even on, but he was humming a cheerful tune and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Before he knew it, he was scouting out a parking spot a few blocks from the venue, an old nightclub called Devil’s Den. If Wuxian’s band was playing there, Qionglin figured it must be the coolest place in town. 

Checking his watch, he saw he was more than an hour early. He wasn’t familiar with this part of town, so he strolled around until he found somewhere he could hang around for a while. Halfway up the street was a charming little cafe that boasted “Best Milk Tea In Town!” on the banner over the door. It seemed as good a place as any to kill an hour. 

As it turned out, the milk tea was great! Not that Qionglin had much of a reference point. He really only came to the city for the farmer’s market, or to visit Qing. Had he ever come out here just for fun? He’d certainly never been invited out just for fun before now, which probably should have been a distressing realization. In any case, he was here now, and he was determined to have a great night. 

8 o’clock drew nearer and he began to feel antsy. According to the map, Devil’s Den wasn’t far, but he didn’t want to be late, so he set out with a few extra minutes to spare. The sun was beginning to set behind him as he arrived, casting long shadows over the door that were quite apropos for a place with such a macabre name. From the outside, it really didn’t look like much. The windows were shuttered and painted black, and over the door was a small, plain sign bearing its name. Qionglin was almost a little disappointed, but maybe the inside would be more fun.

There were a few other people already milling about outside, so Qionglin joined them and tried to look like he belonged there. After a bit, a large, scowling man with a shaved head and a nose ring came out of the club and stood beside the door, propping it open. A black T-shirt printed with the word “SECURITY” stretched taut over his burly shoulders and chest. He held a clipboard in his hand.

“Y’all here for the show? Get in line.” The security guard said curtly. “Doors in five.”

Qionglin and the small crowd of strangers lined up and waited for the guard to wave them in.

“ID?” He said, when Qionglin reached him.

“Huh? Oh! Right…” Qionglin pulled out his wallet and fumbled for his driver’s license. “H-here…”

“Wen Qionglin…” The guard read, scanning his clipboard. “VIP, eh? Don’t look like one, heh. Here ya go, kid. Yer ticket’s been paid.” He handed Qionglin a ticket printed on heavy cardstock, with red lettering. “Go inside and turn left.” He waved Qionglin away.

“Um, thanks,” Qionglin mumbled as he walked in. After his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed the decor; the floors were dark, polished wood, thick velvet curtains lined the windows, and a few antique Western-style chairs and ottomans stood around the foyer. Band posters and photos in old silver frames covered the walls. A pair of ornate double-doors stood at the end of the short hall, above them the word “Welcome” was written in curly script. To his left, a smaller, simpler door was labelled “Authorized Access Only”. He glanced around a little awkwardly. Was he authorized? Is that what the big red ticket was for?

Suddenly the door squeaked and swung open. Qionglin made a little startled noise and stepped back, already preparing to apologize, though he wasn’t sure what for. In the doorframe, however, stood Wei Wuxian himself, smiling brightly and dressed to kill. 

“You’re here!” He said, delighted. He reached out and grabbed Qionglin’s hand, pulling him through the door. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Qionglin was still staring. Wuxian looked amazing. His hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the colored streak peeking through the underside. He wore black jeans, fashionably torn at the knees and up the thighs, revealing fishnet tights underneath. Under his studded leather jacket, his shirt was cherry-red, sleeveless, and cropped, showing off his bare midriff. Qionglin was trying to be subtle, but he could tell he was already blushing. Oh my god.

“Wow,” he said softly. 

“What?” Wuxian asked coyly. “Do I look that good? Did I leave you speechless?” The twinkle in his eye was devilish. 

Qionglin could only nod, his cheeks blazing even hotter. How does he do that? How can he just say stuff like that without a hint of embarrassment? He wondered. 

Wuxian laughed coquettishly. “Why, thank you, you’re the sweetest. You look great too,” he added with a wink.

“I-- what? H-hardly… I, uh, don’t know much about … fashion or whatever,” Qionglin floundered. He stared down at his shoes. “You look incredible, though…” 

Wuxian giggled again, the sound refreshing as birdsong. “I do my best,” he said, feigning modesty. “Anyway, lemme give you the tour before I have to go backstage!” He took Qionglin’s hand again and pulled him along. Qionglin tried to focus on the “tour” -- really it was just a short walk through the halls to the greenroom-- but he was distracted by the heat of Wuxian’s hand in his.

“... and these are my bandmates! We’ve been playing together for like, ever.” Letting go of Qionglin’s hand, he gestured to three other people dressed like him, tuning instruments and doing warmups. “Guys, this is my friend, Qionglin.” There was the briefest pause before he said the word “friend”. Qionglin thought he must’ve imagined it.

Qionglin waved shyly. “Nice to meet you…” He was answered with a chorus of “hey”s and “what’s up”s. They didn’t pay him much more mind.

“So that’s the tour!” Wuxian concluded. “We have just a couple minutes before showtime. Let me show you to your seat.” He led Qionglin into the main part of the club, a sprawling room with a long carved bar, dozens of tables and booths, a gleaming dancefloor, and a stage set into the center of the back wall. It was much bigger than Qionglin expected, and more crowded. Wuxian steered him to a table with a direct view of the stage. “Best seat in the house,” he said, pulling the chair out. 

“Thank you,” Qionglin said as he sat. “I’m really excited. This is my first concert, you know?” 

“Oh right!” Wuxian said. “You might want these, then.” He pulled a pair of spongy ear-plugs from his pocket. “The speakers are pretty intense. Don’t worry, you’ll hear us just fine.” 

“Oh, um, got it. Thanks!” Qionglin fiddled with them a little.

“Alright, I have to go now. I’m gonna sing my heart out, just for you, okay? So you better pay attention!” He declared. He spun on his heel, his ponytail swishing as he walked away.

“Just for me…?” Qionglin whispered, watching Wuxian until he disappeared behind a heavy curtain. He swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry. A server spotted him and strolled leisurely over with a carafe of water, like she’d read his mind. 

“Can I get you anything else, hun?” She asked affably. The neckline of her shirt was low, showing off tattoos of bursting fireworks across her collarbones. A pendant in the shape of a bullet drew the eye directly to her cleavage; Qionglin resolutely looked her in the eye. Her eyeliner was sharp and her lipstick was dark, but she wore a friendly smile. 

“Oh, um, I’m fine, thank you, Miss.” He answered. “Um-- your tattoos are nice.”

She laughed raspily. “Thanks! It’s a reference to an old nickname. This your first time here?” She cocked a well-groomed eyebrow.

“Yes…? H-how could you tell?” 

“The clothes, mostly. Most folks in here wear all black, and crosses and skulls or whatever. Kinda nice to see a little color. Anyway, enjoy the show! These punks are a lotta fun.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, heels clacking against the floorboards.

Qionglin watched the empty stage for a while. The curtains parted somewhat and a lady in a strappy dress stepped out. She adjusted the microphone, and leaned in. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Devil’s Den,” she drawled. “Tonight we have a great lineup of local bands, starting with some of our favorite familiar faces. Let’s give it up for…” She paused for dramatic effect. “The Whatevers!”

Qionglin blinked, confused, but he clapped along with the rest of the cheering crowd. The curtains whooshed open, revealing Wuxian and his band. Qionglin clapped harder and waved a little. I thought they’d have a cooler name… He chuckled quietly.

The Whatevers launched right into a song. A driving guitar melody led into Wuxian’s gorgeous singing. Qionglin’s breath caught in his throat. The spotlight shone down on Wuxian, and everything else faded away. Enraptured, Qionglin stared, listening intently. The lyrics were about new beginnings and taking chances, and Qionglin swore Wuxian was looking directly at him the whole time.

[sunshinevanfleet]

summer ‘78

c h a p t e r  o n e - a flyer in the wind

[disclaimer: none of the images in the banner/any graphics belong to me, all credits go to the respective owners; all i’ve done is edit the images. please excuse me in advance for any historical inaccuracies/discrepancies, i was not alive in the 1970′s. i’m doing my best to research, but i’m not checking every minuscule detail. all events and characters in this series are fictional, or used in a fictional manner.]

a/n: here’s the first chapter of my new series! you can find my series masterpost here! the tag for this series is svfs78! there are still no romantic pairings at the moment, but i’ll be sure to include them when the time comes! hope you lovelies enjoy!

word count: 1.6k

summary: y/n meets a charming stranger in her father’s record shop; little does she know, this is the catalyst for the wildest summer of her life. 

warnings: swearing

You grumbled under your breath as you hurried down the street, late for work. If your dad knew you were late, you’d definitely be in hot water, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. With a string of swears, you brushed the sweat-slicked hair off of your forehead and tried to hurry your step even further. Around you, the streets of your little town were busy with bustling morning life.

The sun shone with a renewed vigor, the first official day of summer giving it a new life that it’d been starved of for the past few months. Floating above you, the summer sky sang with a cerulean haze, trembling in the heat of the late morning. Once again, you swept sweat from your brow, feeling the tickle of a single drop slip over the curve of your cheekbone and drip off the angle of your jaw. The heat was killing you already, and you dreaded being at work all day when you could take a few hours to drive to the coast and spend the weekend there. But, your father made it impossible. 

As you shoved the key into the front lock of the shop, a piece of paper was lifted by the wind, and carried your way. You swatted at it, cursing as the fingers of your freehand crumpled around the yellowed and lightly water-damaged flyer. Quickly, you glimpsed the words on the front, reading GRETA VAN FLEET. In the back of your mind, you wondered what it was but pushed the thought away as you dropped it into the bin when you finally got inside. Whatever it was, you wouldn’t have time to check it out with your work schedule, even if you wanted to. 

A sigh floated from your lips as you followed the opening procedures, not paying much attention as you straightened out shelves, cleaned up, and opened up the blinds of the front windows. You could think of a million different ways you’d rather be spending your summer, but you needed the extra money if you were ever going to get your own place. You were so close to being able to move some place nice, but you wanted to have some money to fall back on if you needed it. 

As you settled in your seat behind the counter, listening to the dull riffs of a rock song playing in the background, you wondered what Jackie and Heather were up to. They were your best friends, and Jackie had been your coworker for a couple of years now. She wasn’t scheduled to work for a couple more hours, and you knew you’d be bored out of your mind until she finally showed up. 

You knew Heather was still sleeping, probably curled up in her silk pajamas dreaming of fame and fortune. She was always up-to-date on everything to do with celebrity gossip, and somehow she’d weaseled her way into their circles. She’d met several celebrities that you knew of, and always offered to hook you up. At first, you thought she was joking, but then you saw the pictures. 

Jackie was awake, likely getting ready for work despite the fact that she had several hours before her shift started. She was exponentially more responsible than you, but she had her moments, for sure. You couldn’t count the amount of times that you’d been called to pick her up from a party, drunk and stoned out of her mind. 

The jingle of the bell on the front door interrupted your thoughts, and you glanced up to see a lone guy entering the store. His brown hair skirted his shoulders, and he offered a shy smile as he began to browse. 

“Can I help you with anything?” you asked, peering at him over your book as he fingered through the records. 

“Just lookin’ around,” he replied casually. 

You offered a mere nod in response, but eyed him for a second. Something about him perplexed you; maybe it was the way he carried himself, his cool demeanor and slow, calculated movements. His hands flipped through the vinyls so carefully, almost like he was gathering the feel of every album as his fingers trailed over them. He walked slowly, sauntering around the room with some kind of unspoken purpose. 

As he turned away from you, you returned to reading your book. You didn’t want him to catch you staring like some kind of creep. A few minutes later, he approached the counter with a couple of vinyls in his arms, letting them slide from his arms onto the counter as you rang him up. 

The soft sound of his voice interrupted you, making your hand stutter as he handed you his money. “Come here often?” You heard the tease in his voice, but met his eyes just to be sure he was kidding.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the bogus line, something that would normally make you scoff. It was kind of endearing coming from him. 

“Yeah, I work here,” you replied with a laugh. He grinned, obviously amused that he’d made you smile. “How ‘bout you?” 

He shrugged. “Not really. It’s my first time,” he said, in an exaggerated whisper.

You rolled your eyes. “Not much here,” you shrugged. “What’re you here for? I know it can’t be a vacation.” You thought of your town, settled in the desert and as barren as the land surrounding it. You’d rather be anywhere in the world than stuck in your shitty little town. 

“Oh definitely,” the guy replied. “I love dust in my eyes every time it gets windy.” He winked at you playfully, and you laughed. 

“Seriously, though,” he continued. “I’m here for some work stuff. No biggie.”

“Must be a real bummer, forcing you to come here.” You wrinkled your nose as you stuffed his receipt into his bag, pushing it toward him.

“Nah, it’s a pretty bitchin’ job.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe it,” you chuckled. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, then.” 

“Guess I will.”

You watched as he smiled playfully at you and took his bag, headed for the door. Before he could leave, he turned back to face you. “What’d you say your name was again?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t. But it’s Y/N.”

“All right… See ya, Y/N.”

“See ya…” you trailed.

“Jake.”

“See ya, Jake.”

You weren’t sure you ever would. 

A couple hours later, Jackie showed up for her shift. Her shocks of white-blonde hair were wild, as usual, but her expression was bright. She practically danced in the door, her striped t-shirt tucked in half-heartedly and her mascara smeared. You could feel the excitement buzzing off of her as she joined you behind the counter, propping her feet on an empty box. 

“What’s up with you?”

She grinned at you, bouncing at her seat. She was probably happy you’d finally entertained her energy, for once.

“So, I was talking to Heather last night, and this awesome band is in town for the weekend. I was thinking that we should go… Can you dig it?” She quirked an eyebrow at you, the words flying from her mouth at a hundred miles per hour. You sighed as you sat back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, way. You know I have to work late all weekend. What band is it, anyway?” 

Jackie rolled her eyes at you, as if you were being the most obtuse person she’d ever met. With a sigh, she glanced out the window and pointed out one of the flyers. “It’s Greta Van Fleet. You haven’t seen all the flyers?”

“I’ve seen them, Jackie. Who are they?”

She groaned. “I know you’re joking…” When you said nothing, her face deepened into a frown. 

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the bell on the door jingled and you saw the face of Heather. It wasn’t uncommon for Heather to show up and hang out around the record shop, even though she technically wasn’t supposed to. But what your father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Heather! Tell Y/N about the concert!”

Heather’s face brightened instantly, and she leaned on the counter when she reached the two of you. “Oh, yeah. You have to come. It’s gonna be far out,” Heather enthused. She brushed a long strand of dark hair out of her eyes, and continued. “We’re gonna crash the after party and everything.”

You rolled your eyes. “I have work. I don’t even know how you manage to get in all these after parties, anyway.”

“Her sister’s in Playboy,” Jackie butted in, as if that actually made any difference.

“Yeah, Lisa’s in Playboy. I’m practically famous.”

“Oh my god,” you huffed in exasperation, flipping to the next page of your book even though you hadn’t really been paying attention. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You seriously can’t come to the concert?” Heather pouted. 

“No. My dad would kill me.”

“You’ve gotta start standing up for yourself. He can’t control you forever, you know.” Jackie said.

“I need this job, guys. How else am I ever gonna move out?” You glanced between them, but they were both silent. With a sigh, you shook your head and dropped your book onto the counter. 

After a moment, Heather spoke up again. “At least come to the after party.”

“What?” you gawked at her.

“Oh, please! You need to get out! Your life is a total drag. You never do anything fun!”

“She’s right, Y/N,” added Jackie, her tone sheepish. 

You groaned, frowning at the both of them. 

“What time does it start?”

[lhs3020b]

After Noon (1)

So here’s a surprise: somehow, I’m writing fiction again.

I somehow seem to have ended up with a sort of Chocky-meets-r/NoSleep story - it’s quite unlike anything I’ve ever put pen-to-paper on before. What I have so far is under the cut.

Synopsis: a very ordinary London family may or may not be dealing with unEarthly forces. Much confusion happens...

(NB: this is in the style of an r/NoSleep story, so it’s written as if it were real, and as if the viewpoint character were posting to an advice forum or some such thing.)

I'll be honest: Chris was a surprise. But, she's the best surprise we've ever had.

Let me back up and introduce myself. I've never posted here before. It feels really weird that I need to. How did this happen? Why did it happen, and why us? Anyway, I'm already digressing.

My name is Jenny. I'm in my early 30s. I live in London with my partner of eight years, Jo. Jo and I have a six-year old daughter called Christina. Christina wasn't planned and I'll be honest, when we found out, we were quite worried at first. But to my (and Jo’s!) considerable surprise, Chris has ended up being the best thing that's ever happened to us. Sure the sleepless nights were rough and there's all the new problems like childcare, finding a decent school and her amazing ability to wreck all the new clothes we buy her. But seeing her smile, or watching her take her first steps, or listening to the first words she said - absolutely nothing compared. When she spoke for the first time, I honestly thought my heart would melt. I just couldn't believe that someone as frankly-useless and flawed as myself had managed to co-create something as wonderful as this - and accidentally, as well!

Now, here is our problem. Either our beautiful precious daughter is extremely-disturbed, or our family has directly-witnessed an alien apocalypse. I don't like either option.

Yes, it sounds mad, doesn’t it? You’ve just read these words and you’re probably wondering what’s wrong with me. You’ll be thinking, who is this Jenny and why she is having her mental episode here, on our website? Believe me, I’ve asked myself all those questions. But some very weird stuff has been going down inside our normal little family home. Some of it could be coincidence, misunderstanding, whatever. But the rest of it? I genuinely-can’t account for some of what’s happened.

Why us? Why our daughter? What were we supposed to do? Could we have done anything? Should we have done anything? I don’t know. Frankly, I’m posting here because I’m near my wits end. My family is a mess, my daughter is in pieces. I’m not sleeping full nights anymore. I don’t know what to do, but I’m hoping maybe some of you might.

Basically, please hear me out. I’m desperate.

You’re probably feeling uneasy already. I don’t blame you. It's all a lot to take in. Let me start from the beginning. Perhaps some context will help make sense of all this.

Perhaps there was a subtle hint of what was to come when she started talking. Chris didn't start with individual words. Instead, the first thing we got from her was a full sentence. I was cooking in the kitchen and she was in her high chair. It was a mid-afternoon in December about four years ago - London being London, the Sun had almost set, so I had the lights on already. I was just about to start boiling an egg when Chris suddenly pointed, and said "It's an egg!"

(Well, actually, what she said sounded more like "Hitsa hegg!", but the meaning was clear enough.)

Needless to say I immediately went into squee mode. Jo got called in and went into squee mode too. Chris loved the attention, though it was another two days before she spoke again. After that, the floodgates opened. Our health visitor said she'd never seen linguistic development this fast. Chris, apparently was very smart. The news sent us over the moon with joy.

And this is where our tale goes into high gear, becuase I'm not so certain that she was as precocious as we were told. Don't get me wrong - our daughter is a special young lady, and a bright one too. But I've got some reason to believe that someone, or something, had helped her along the way a bit.

It was when she turned five that we first met Noon.

'Jenny, it's not unusual,' Jo told me. 'I had an imaginary friend when I was little.'

I blinked. 'You did?' I'd never heard this story. (And here's one unexpected side-effect of having Chris: I was getting to know my partner all over again, better than I did beforehand.)

He nodded. 'Yeah. I had a comfort blanket. I gave it a name and took it everywhere.' He looked a bit embarrassed. 'I think my parents hated it. In hindsight, can't completely blame them, really.'

'But you didn't think it was real ...' I prompted.

He shook his head. 'Not really, no. It was more about having someone to talk to.'

'She's got us to talk to,' I said, maybe a little defensive.

'True,' he said. 'But - look, I'm sure it will be fine. Once she's settled into the new class at primary school.'

I breathed out, feeling myself relax a little. Jo was right. I was being overprotective. Don't judge me too hard - I've never been a parent before, and I'm having to make it up as I go along! A few stumbles were probably inevitable. I'd been worrying too much. Doubtless Jo was right and the Noon business was just a reaction to the recent changes at her school.

Her class had been split up. One of the teachers abruptly quit halfway through the term, under murky circumstances. Plus the school's been having money problems, like too many others across the country. It's inevitable that all this adult-work-chaos stuff would have some impact on the children, as much as everyone tries to shield them from it. Contrary to what many people think, kids aren't stupid. In fact they sometimes see things more clearly then we do, because they don't yet have the layers of cotton-wool self-delusion we pad ourselves out with. When stuff is going down, they'll pick up on it.

But if that was the case, then there was good news too. Once the school situation settled down, we'd stop hearing about Chris's new imaginary friend all the time too.

My relief was to be short-lived. Later that very evening, there was a development.

I was sitting down with Chris in the living room. We'd had dinner. She'd been good and had used her little plastic knife and fork all through the meal. Normally I call it a win if I can even get her to pick them up, let alone neatly cut-and-skewer all her food. But of course we want to reinforce it if she does well, so I was allowing her an extra hour or so with her crayons and drawing stuff, before bed-time.

She was sat on the carpet, cross-legged, looking very serious in that way that small children do sometimes when they know an adult is watching. There was a sheet of paper in front of her. She picked up a red crayon. She then proceeded to draw a red ellipse on the paper. It might have been meant to be a circle, but to be brutally-honest, it looked more like a sort of obese beetroot.

'That's very pretty, dear,' I said.

Apparently I'd picked the right tone of voice (I still don't really have that skill, sadly). She beamed at me. Then she frowned and looked at the other crayons.

'I can't find it, Mummy,' she said.

'You can't find what?' I asked. Now, I almost with I hadn't.

She said, 'I need to draw the other sun, Mummy. But I need a white crayon.'

The other sun? What? I know I must have looked baffled, because suddenly Chris's lip trembled. She always reacts strongly to our moods. Learning to regulate my emotional expression - well, let's be honest, I still trip up on that one.

To cover my confusion, I reached over to her left. The white crayon had rolled over there when we tipped them out of their box. I think she must have missed it. 'Here it is, dear,' I said.

She beamed and took the crayon from me, grasping it in her pudgy little fingers. I breathed a private sigh of relief. Apparently my little slip a moment ago hadn't mattered too much.

Chris frowned at the page. 'It's very small,' she said. She drew a barely-visible white circle with the crayon. 'That's too big. But I can't make it smaller. Small sun.'

'It's lovely, dear,' I said. 'The Sun is usually yellow, though.' (I have a friend, Fiona, who's an astronomer. At this point she would be ranting about how the Sun can't be yellow because sunlight is white light by definition, so this must be yet another popular delusion reiterated uncritically by poor scientific comms, etc. etc. Perhaps it was just as well that Fiona wasn't here with us this evening.)

Chris scowled. 'Not ours,' she said. 'Where Noon is from. They have two suns there.'

Noon was from a place with two suns? That really did throw me for six. Where on earth could Chris have got that idea from? I mean, points for creativity. I wouldn't have thought of that when I was a child! But still, this was some left-field stuff.

'Noon says there are two suns?' I asked.

Chris nodded, enthusiastically. She liked talking about Noon. 'She was telling me about it earlier.'

Noon was a she? That was new too. So far, we'd had no idea about Noon's gender, or even if the concept could be applied. Like Brexit, Noon was Noon, but what that actually meant had been a mystery for none but the elect to know. (Late last night as we lay in bed, Jo had commented to me that you could tell it was 2019 because the cool kids had non-binary imaginary friends. I whacked him with a pillow, though I will admit I did also snigger, just for a moment.)

Chris added, 'And it's always daytime where Noon is.'

You have to cut Chris a little slack. She's very young, so her world-building still has some research errors here and there. But perhaps now was as good a time as any for a little bit of education. I said, 'That's very interesting. Here, we have day and night. Because the Earth spins. Which is why we see the Sun rise and set.'

Chris was apparently ready for this. 'Noon says it used to do that where she is.' The little girl frowned, puckering her lip. 'But Noon says that was a very long time ago. It doesn't do it anymore. It slowed down, and stopped. Now it's daylight on one side. And it's night on the other. All the time.'

There was a pause.

'Noon says that's why she calls herself that. Her breed-group - she says that like a family - live in the middle of the day. So it's always noon where she is.' Chris picked up a black crayon and drew a wobbly horizon-line, below the two suns. 'She says it's not that weird. Our Moon is the same.'

Then she said three words, deliberately, slowly and carefully. Like someone was reciting them to her. And they were three words you don't expect to hear from a small child. 'Tidally-locked rotation.' Then she beamed and laughed, actually bouncing a little. Like she was really pleased that she'd managed to get it all right.

Breed-group? Like the Moon? Tidally-locked? What the hell?

This was starting to get faintly-weird. Chris had clearly put a lot of work into this. Or, someone had primed her with it. I found myself thinking of her school, and all the stuff that was happening there. Perhaps someone had given a weird assembly. Dumped some stuff into the kids' heads, well-meaningly, but before the children were really ready to absorb it? Or - no, wait, I had it! It would have been during one of the gaps in teaching-hours, wouldn't it? It would be just like the school to park the kids in a room with a video somewhere while the adults faffed about. They'd been left watching some sort of sci-fi thing, hadn't they? That was where all this must be coming from!

Carefully, I said, 'It's very nice of Noon to share about her life. I hope she likes it where she is.'

I didn't expect what happened next. Suddenly, Chris burst into tears. And these were proper floods. These were the-neighbour-ran-over-our-dog-and-I-saw-it-all tears. These were serious-business tears. Something was badly wrong.

'Oh honey, what's the matter?' Quickly I gathered her into my arms. She was still clutching the crayons, weeping hysterically. I heard feet thumping along the corridor outside. Jo had heard, and was coming running.

I did my best to soothe the distraught child as her father joined us. He looked at me, questioningly. Quickly I shook my head, mouthing, No love, I have no idea what set this off. I don't know whether he fully-understood what I said, or whether this was just parent-telepathy time. But either way, Jo joined the group-effort that was calming our daughter.

Finally we got Chris settled a little. Her face was still red and puffy but the sobs had softened away and the waterworks had calmed down. I held her - she felt very warm, and very precious - and rocked her from side-to-side. I was verging between deep concern for my daughter and wanting to smack Noon for whatever she'd done - which was completely irrational, given that at that point, I didn't believe that Noon existed.

When we'd settled our little girl enough, I think Jo and I both decided that there'd been enough drawing for one night. She didn't protest as we put the crayons away. Jo fetched her a hot chocolate - her favourite drink - and I dug out the laptop. We have a carefully-curated YouTube cartoons list (believe me, I don't let Chris anywhere near the "something is wrong on the Internet" stuff!) and I put one of her favourites on. We watched it together. Between it, the hot chocolate and maybe a bit of Mum's own-brand cuddles, Chris finally calmed. Soon, she was very tired. It was evident that bedtime was near. The day's drama had exhausted her.

Shortly after, we were tucking her into bed. I sat with her, holding her hand, as she drifted off. I was feeling both worried and relieved. Worried because that eruption earlier had been terrifying. Relieved because at least it was over.

Then something new happened.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, Chris muttered something. 'Noon says the little white one will kill them all.'

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

TW: Discussions of rape and miscarriage. Major feels. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 39: The Walls Came Tumbling Down

Spike bit his fingernail down to the bed, spilling blood on his lips. He spit on the floor, repulsed by the memories.

Buffy had been missing for three hours. He’d tried to follow her immediately after she disappeared, but couldn’t get any further than singeing his shoes. The portal was Slayers only. To pass the time, he read the spell book Buffy had given him. It explained that “finding the path” wasn’t a vision quest, but a portal. The gibberish started to weave together a coherent story, though still not one that made sense. The Witch, it explained, had ousted the King, who by all accounts was a philandering, temperamental murderer. The Witch had help from the Huntress. Later the Huntress was struck with remorse for the King -- her father -- and tried to bring him home. For this act of betrayal, the Witch put the Huntress to sleep and locked her away.

“Fairy tales,” Spike snorted. But then, the shadow casters were only supposed to work for the Huntress, and they had worked for Buffy. If disappearing for hours counted as working. For all Spike knew she was being tortured, punished for the crossing the yellow tape. He started chewing the nails on his other hand and considered getting Dean.

There was a pop like air rushing into a vacuum. The writhing men comprising the shadow figures flew apart, leaving a soaked Buffy on the ground in their place. Spike gathered her into his lap, her wet hair and clothes seeping through his shirt and jeans. “Hey! Hey, Goldilocks. Did you find anythin’ you liked at the Bears’ house?”

Her eyes flew open and she punched him in the nose. Bone crunched and blood spewed from his face. Then she kicked him in the head. Everything went black.

After throwing Buffy out, Dawn and Willow had clutched each other and cried, using phrases like tough love and the right thing, though neither of them felt convinced. Now that it was morning, Dawn’s head still pounded, her empty eye socket raged.

She wanted to set the world on fire. She wanted to cry. She wanted her sister back.

Dawn stood at the top of the stairs listening. She listened to the Impala’s purr as Sam and Dean left at daybreak to look for bodies in the rubble of the winery. To Andrew worrying about Spike not coming in last night. To Xander and Anya arriving with more food and medical supplies. To the Potentials padding up and down the stairs to use the bathroom, and when they tried to talk to her, she pretended not to hear.

She couldn’t see them on that side of her anyway.

Downstairs, Dawn could hear the Potentials debating the veracity of what Dean had told them.  The Potentials had insisted on knowing what was going on. (She couldn’t blame them for that; though she blamed them for everything else.) After watching Buffy ousted from her own home, Dean delivered a no-holds-barred, fire-in-the-belly speech including everything from angels trying to force God to return to what the demons did to Sam.

It seemed they were stuck on the part about alternate dimensions. Some believed in them. Some didn’t, despite Anya having explained about hell dimensions in her introduction to demons lecture. However, she had also told them demons were poor, misunderstood creatures.

Downstairs, a girl asked, “D-do you think Lucifer brought any h-hellhounds with him?”

Dawn closed her one good eye, rested her head against the wall, and let the voices of the girls downstairs mix into an unintelligible buzz. After a while, she sensed someone was sitting on the step by her. Peeking through her lashes, Dawn saw Wook staring into space.

“Did you tell her?” Dawn asked. “Did you ever tell Sophia how you felt?”

For a split second, horror took over Wook’s face. Then she shook her head. “Sophia...she was not like me.”

The crush had seemed obvious to Dawn and several other people. “You should talk to Willow. You could probably use a good cry and --” Dawn pointed at the bandage over her missing eye “-- I’m only up for half a cry right now. I hope it helps.”

Dawn slowly walked downstairs. As the Potentials noticed her, a wave of silence fell over the room. She curled up in a chair by the window, fixing her one good eye outside. When it was clear she didn't want to speak to them, the girls resumed their whispers.

“Maybe the angels?” asked Steph. “If they brought the Winchesters here, maybe they’ll come help us?”

Dark circles around her puffy eyes, Maya curled her lip in disgust. “Are you joking? They sound bloody terrifying, like cosmic toddlers throwing a fit for daddy.”

“The angels aren't coming to save us,” said Dani. “God is out of the game. No one is coming, but maybe we can move home field.”

“Move the fight off the Hellmouth?” asked Karen.

“Bigger,” said Dani. “Lucifer is only here because he followed the Winchesters, so let's move the Winchesters back where they belong.”

Dawn stifled a snicker. She couldn’t imagine any of these girls making the Winchesters do anything. When Dean returned, she’d share Dani’s plan.

“You have a magic portal in your pocket?” Betje asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, no, but --”

Keisha held up her hand to stop Dani from continuing. “I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am about what Dean said. I'm a life-long church girl, and this is not my Heavenly Host. However, I am not about to sell out Sam for my own safety.”

Kate squeezed into the circle. “It's not about you or Sam; it's about saving everyone.”

“I think the people in their world would disagree with you,” Karen countered. “A Slayer’s duty is to save people, not pick and choose lives.”

Dani threw her pillow across the room and released a frustrated growl. “We’re out of options! Either everyone dies or half the people die.”

“It’s not like they’re real, not like us,” Kate added.

“Then we go down fighting!” said Keisha, matching Dani’s volume. “Maybe Buffy was right yesterday? Maybe we just have to attack as much as we can?”

The room disintegrated into bickering about Buffy’s leadership, the realness of unmet people, and the blame the Winchesters bore. Again, a hush fell over them. Someone hovered by her.

“Hmm, Dawn, you’re missing something.” Xander’s hands were shoved in his pockets as he casually inspected Dawn’s new face. “Rumor is, pirating requires a beard. Or a parrot. Both would be better, but you have to have at least one.”

Despite herself, Dawn felt a small smile trip across her lips.

“Good news though! No beard means it’s easier to eat this.” He handed her a candy bar, one of the good ones with chocolate and peanut butter.

It was ridiculous and exactly what she needed. She unwrapped it slowly. “Willow tells me I can get a glass eye. I could get something that totally matches my other one, and then, like, pop it out on Halloween to scare kids.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Not that we’ll see another Halloween with this bozo army.”

“And the spirit is gone.”

Dawn took a large bite and glanced out the window. “Shut up! Buffy’s outside.”

Xander and Willow’s hearts were heavy but happy as they crossed the street to talk with Buffy.

Buffy stood staring at the neighbor’s lilac bush as if she could set it on fire with her mind. She plucked a heavy bloom. “They love me. They love me not,” she said as she pulled the petals off.

“Buff, that’s not fair,” Xander blurted. Not the foot he’d wanted to start on. He was still uncertain if he hadn’t spoken up in her defense out of cowardice or agreement. The bruise on his cheek felt like the latter.

“We love you!” said Willow, reaching out to rub Buffy’s arm. “We just think you need a break. All the stress is affecting your judgement.”

“My judges are the guy who left his fiance at the altar and the woman who tried to burn the world? Both less than a year ago. What do you know about stress?” Buffy asked as she crushed the flower in her fist.

“A hell of a lot,” said Willow in a low voice.

“You’re not the characters I came to Disneyland for. Where’s Dean?”

“He and Sam went to deal with the bodies at the winery.”

“Then you two can Hi-Ho your butts back in the house, and I’ll wait here,” she said with coldness in her eyes.

“I know you’re mad and all, but come in for some --”

“I’m not here for you,” their friend snapped. Her eye twitched. “Not yet. Now go back inside or I’ll give you more than a bruise.”

To Dean’s surprise, other than missing doors and a blackened entrance, the winery was still standing. “Two cans of gas and a building full of alcohol.”

“Wine doesn’t have a high enough alcohol content to burn, so it probably put the fire out,” Sam explained.

“Wow, even the things you know about booze are nerdy.” Although, Buffy would be relieved to know his anger-move hadn’t been any more effective than her plan.

“We going in?”

The dark maw of the building stared him down. Less than a day before, that place had claimed five of them and incapacitated even more. A chill ran down Dean’s spine. “Can’t afford it. Let’s go.”

On the way back to the Impala, his phone rang. Xander wanted to warn him that an angry Buffy was waiting for him at the house. Angry. Crying. Dean didn’t care. He needed to see her.

Haloed by the purple flowers in the neighbor’s yard, Buffy looked stunning. Her hair was in loose, natural waves, and her face bare of makeup. It was her soft-with-sleep, content-in-his-arms beauty, though he doubted she wanted to be held.

When he gently called to her, her icy resolve melted away. “Dean!” A smile blossomed on her lips as she breathed out his name. "We need to talk.”

“Buffy, I'm so, so sorry for the shit I said.” He took her small hands in his; it was the first time he’d touched her in what felt like forever. Exhibiting no hesitation, she lightly squeezed his fingers. He’d never been so thrilled to hold a woman’s hand. “I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She nodded, the light catching on the fan of her lashes. “It’s hard for people to see a bigger plan in the moment.” Looking up at him with curious eyes, she said, “Speaking of, do you have a plan for Lucifer?”

“It was a bitch of a night, sweetheart. Treading water as fast as we can, but look around you.” Every house on the block was empty. “The tide’s comin’ in.”

“Do we head for the hills with the girls?”

“Of course not. We’re the line between him and the rest of your world. We gotta hold it so the world doesn’t go all I Am Legend.”

Worry swelled in Buffy’s eyes. She opened her mouth several times, but said nothing. Finally, she swallowed and said, “What about Michael?”

“Michael? I don’t think that douche even knows we’re here.”

The worry washed away. She gazed into his eyes and appeared surprisingly happy for knowing it was the end of the world. “It’s like a burn one, get-one-free special.” She laid her head on his chest, her arms encircling his waist. Dean embraced her, content that if they were going to die at least they would die together.

She shifted, and he started to let her go. “No,” she said, “keep holding me, baby.”

A shout down their deserted block drew his attention. Blood streaming down his face, Spike ran at them yelling something. Confused, Dean looked down into Buffy’s black eyes.

He fell back in terror, numbness taking over his body. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. His brain screamed, No! No! No!

“Hey baby, surprised to see me?” the demon inside her cooed. She grabbed him by the arms and tossed him into a flower bed.  

Spike jumped her, but she threw him over her shoulders.

“I thought I killed you.” Buffy pulled a knife from her boot. Spike blocked the blow to his chest, leaving a gash on his forearm.

Dean pulled her off, causing her to whirl back on him and slash his cheek. “Gonna cut your pretty face --”

Then she stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. The black in her eyes swirled wildly. Buffy trembled, then collapsed in a heap. Behind her, Spike stood holding a bloody rock.

Buffy didn’t know where she was. It was so dark, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. She tried to feel for a wall, a door, a light, but she couldn’t move her arms. It was like fighting off a deep sleep.

She wasn’t alone. Someone -- some thing -- was laughing. It sounded like broken glass, like a punch knocking teeth loose, like being lost and alone; yet somehow Buffy knew it was a laugh.

I like it in here, said a voice that was a cross between a bark and a hiss. So many toys.

Suddenly, Buffy was in bed. Angel’s hands slid from her breasts to her thighs as he kissed her neck with tantalizing slowness.

That laugh.

Buffy was at her high school. She was holding a gun. Angel stood before her, pleading. Shaking, she pulled the trigger.

That laugh again, like cold water running down her spine.

Now Buffy was struggling on the bathroom floor, tired and terrified, trying to push Spike off of her.

Fuck, this is fun.

Then Buffy could see. She could see Dean standing in front of her, saying something she couldn’t hear. Buffy tried to say something, anything -- he was right there -- but no words came out. Then he was holding her. It was bliss and torture all wrapped together.

The voice practically sang, Gonna kill your boyfriend. Gonna make you watch. Gonna snap his neck. Oh yes! Oh yes!

Whatever this thing was, Buffy wasn’t going to let it win. She managed to loosen her grip on Dean, but she heard her voice ask him to stay. For a brief second, she felt the thing look away, distracted by something Buffy couldn’t see. She seized the moment, and threw Dean away from her.

Blackness and laughter. A flash of Spike and blood. Buffy tried to move, tried to scream, but she could see her own arms lashing out with a knife. Now Dean was in front of her, blood on his cheek. Buffy focused on his eyes, those deep green eyes. She pulled up all the love inside of her, everything she had done and hope to do with this man, and shoved it to the front of her mind.

The laugh was cut short. Buffy’s body was holding still.

Then everything went black.

This was a nightmare. If Dean opened his eyes, he would see Buffy sound asleep with little pillow creases on her face. Instead, Spike, his face a sickly shade of purple, sat sprawled on a chair while Anya sewed up his arm. The mysterious book Spike had brought consumed Giles, who looked like he’d aged ten years.

The kitchen was packed with everyone who cared about Buffy. And the guilty, Dean thought, bitterly surveying their downcast faces.

“How’s Dawn?” Xander asked Willow when she returned to the kitchen.

“Sleeping.”

“You put her under?”

“I hate to use the word hysterical -- because sexist, but it applies. She was hysterical and crying, which isn’t helping her heal. She kept saying this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t kicked Buffy out.”

The Potentials averted their eyes.

“She’s not wrong,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Keisha started to apologize, “If I knew this could happen--”

“No,” said Betje, shaking her head. “What’s done is done. We have to fix this demon problem.”

Karen took a bloody towel from Spike and handed him a fresh one for his split lip and broken nose. With the power off, they had nothing cold for the swelling. “Recap for the new girl? My head was spinning too much to get all of that.”

“Kind of ‘urts to talk,” moaned Spike.

Anya sighed. “Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Kicked out of the house with her tail between her legs, Buffy thought she’d do a vision quest to learn more Slayer tricks. Only the vision was more of a touch-and-feel experience. Poof! Gone. Poof! Back with bonus gross demon parasite.”

“You’re grossed out?” huffed Willow.

Anya finished bandaging Spike’s arm and repacked the first aid kit. “Demons may maim and kill and sew chaos, but there are lines. Very few demons possess, and they’re social outcasts. This goes off the map into unknown heebee jeebee territory.”

“Okay, Robin, that was very helpful,” Sam said as he came in the back door and hung up his phone. “Unhelpful asshole. He doesn’t know anything.”

Sam handed Willow a small necklace. “You too, Giles,” he said.

“No anti-possession charms for the rest of us?” Xander asked.

Sam handed another to Spike. “The rest of you aren’t vessels. You can’t be possessed. Just witches, slayers and vampires.”

“And Potential Slayers,” Willow added as she slipped on the necklace. “But that got explody last time.”

After securing unconscious demon Buffy in a devil’s trap in the basement, they had moved most of the Potentials to the neighboring house for safety. Some were too injured to move. A few, wracked with guilt, refused to leave.

His nose buried once more in his book, Giles muttered to himself, “Where did Bernard find this? These were lost. They’re all dead.”

“Giles, mutter reassuring things or don’t mutter at all,” Anya snapped.

Giles snapped his head up, seemingly surprised the conversation had moved on without him. “In any other circumstance, holding this book would be a rare treat. Scholars thought they were lost when the Order of the Oracle was wiped out.”

“Order of the Oracle?” Sam said. “I have one of their books. I found it online.”

Giles glared at Sam over his glasses. “Could I see this book?”

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“It’s in your bloody--!” Giles took a deep breath and muttered into his book, “Let’s just keep rare texts in our cars next to our mixtapes. Heaven forbid we use bookshelves like civilized people.”

“We do an exorcism, right?” asked Karen. “Some pea soup, head spinning, and Buffy’s back?”

“No,” said Dean, tired of listening to them.

“No? It was good enough for me,” said Spike.

“That demon was making you a vampire. That’s the gig here. This one, I don’t know where Buffy found it, but it’s from our side of the tracks. I think it knows me. We need to find out how it got here and if more are coming.”

“If there are?” asked Xander.

Dean didn’t want to tell him it dropped their chances from zero to zilch.

Karen’s eyes darted from person to person in spinning confusion. “Can we go back to Spike being a vampire -- because what?”

The basement door burst open and Andrew collapsed on the ground wheezing. “Buff-- She-- It? Waking is happening.” Anya and Giles followed the Winchesters while everyone else hid their faces.

In the basement, Dani was standing dangerously close to the outer line of the demon trap inspecting Buffy, black eyes fluttering, with the curiosity of children taunting a lion at the zoo. “Doesn’t look so bad. She couldn’t be worse than a Serparvo or a Haxil Beast.”

Laying on her side, Buffy opened her eyes.

“Dani, step back!” barked Sam.

“Help me! I’m afraid!” whimpered the demon.

Dani leaned across the circle, her face close to Buffy’s. Before Dean got to the bottom of the stairs, the creature jerked toward the Potential and bit into her cheek. Dani reeled back screaming. Buffy smiled, a chunk of skin hanging from her teeth.

“No!” shouted Anya her finger wagging at the bloody-faced creature. “Bad demon! Naughty! You’re the kind of demon that gives demons a bad name. What kind of demon are you anyway?”

“The real kind.”

Anya looked at the Winchesters with fear and confusion as she lead Dani upstairs.

The demon spit the piece of cheek on the ground. For a brief moment, the edge melted from her glare as Buffy coughed and spit blood from her mouth. Then she grinned an awful, red grin. “Sam and Dean. I missed you boys! Haven’t seen you since I sicced my puppies on your last girlfriend.”

“Meg,” growled Sam.

“In the flesh -- or rather your girl’s flesh, huh, Dean?” A satisfied chuckle bubbled from her throat as Dean bit his tongue to keep from reacting. “I think of all the bodies I’ve possessed, this one is my favorite. No offense, Sammy.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” said Dean.

“Too late. I love exploring her nooks and crannies. All of her dark places. The secrets in here!” Meg shimmied with excitement. “For instance, Giles,” she said, directing her attention to librarian on the stairs, “do you remember telling her you would always support her? It’s one of those memories a girl with daddy issues goes back to when she's having a down day.”

“I remember,” whispered Giles, his eyebrows furrowed with agony as he beheld his only child strung up like a puppet.

“Until she fucks up, of course. Then she’s out on the street.” She still smiled her bloody smile, but her eyes were pleading.

Giles glared at her with steely resolve. “The consequences for my actions have been dire, and I won’t leave her now.”

“Enough!” Dean snapped. “How’d you get here, Meg?”

“Hard work and clean living?”

He crouched by the edge of the demon trap, so he could look into Meg’s black eyes. “You think I don’t know how to get information out of you?”

“I know for a fact you couldn’t hurt your Girly any more than you’d hurt your Sammy. She’s barely spoken to you for weeks, and you’re still jumping through hoops like a trained bitch to get her to notice you. You got it bad, Dean, and she’s ready to run away screaming.” Buffy slammed her body against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. She rose to her knees slowly, awkwardly, Buffy’s long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and neck, a wry smile on her red lips.

“You know what pushed her away? It wasn't the Apocalypse or the Potentials or anything else you’ve blamed.” Her smile disappeared. Her mouth clamped shut. A twitch washed over her muscles like a personal earthquake. The smile returned. “It wasn’t any of that. It was the baby.”

The more Buffy focused, the more she could move. She beat her fists against the darkness and screamed, screamed to get out. She shut out the taunts, the memories, and focused. I’m near my house. Dean is here. Spike is here.

She tasted blood. Cold crept into her bones. Dean’s voice, far off and muffled, snapped the silence. Dean is here.

The laugh again.

Buffy threw herself against the blackness once more and felt a hard smack. The air rushed from her lungs. Pain was good. Pain was present.

Then she could see her basement. She was in the demon trap they’d painted for Spike. Dean and Sam stood outside of the circle; Giles on the stairs. Dean’s jaw twitched with rage.

Suddenly, there was a white hot stab in her gut. Buffy screamed in agony.

Oh yes, let’s share that, the voice growled.

Buffy tried to put her hands over her mouth, to bite her tongue. To keep it in. Still the word erupted into the air, plump and sad.

Baby.

Dean clenched his jaw. The ploy was low even for Meg. “You're lying.”

“Why? Because she would have told you?” she said in a mocking whine.

“Because you’re a sack-a-shit demon.”

“And this sack of shit is wearing your girlfriend. I have access to memories and thoughts you couldn’t imagine. She may let you rut around in this body, but it's not yours.” Quickly, Buffy slammed her body back into the wall with a gasp.

Then a laugh. “She never forgot your dream of starting a family together, Dean. Buffy battles monsters for a living, but the mere idea of spawning your green-eyed ankle-biters made her want to vomit. Then she got two little lines on the test.

“I know what you’re thinking. Wracking your brain counting back the days since she let you fuck her. Wondering if you always used a condom. Blaming her for messing up her pills,” Meg twisted Buffy’s lips into a smirk. “What’s funny is that you two morons with your supercharged bodies thought the conventional would be enough.”

Dean wasn’t thinking any of that. Instead, a cold grief crept into his bones that Buffy had carried the burden alone. Another person he loved was too scared to tell him the truth. He shook his head and whispered, “You can shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?” She grinned from ear to ear, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Already called that bluff, dickwad. Besides, if you want the truth, you can ask Giles.”

Giles’ eyes flitted between Dean and the demon. The unasked question seemed to press him smaller. “Awhile ago, Buffy wanted to come when I drove to Los Angeles to pick up two Potentials at the airport. I thought it was odd, but I was happy for the company. She was distant, quiet. We had a strained conversation. As soon as we arrived in LA, she got a ride into town, leaving us at the airport for a couple hours. She never said what she was doing. I...I had assumed she went to see Angel.”

“Is she pregnant?” Dean whispered, trying to keep the shattered feeling from his voice.

Meg laughed, made all the crueler in Buffy’s voice. “Not now, baby daddy. I took care of that before I came. Bad enough I have all the memories of fucking you; didn’t want any part of you sharing my meatsuit too. Took a lot of poking around in there. In fact, I made sure that if you exorcise me, she’s going to bleed out.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. Sam whispered in his ear, “Go upstairs, and let me handle this.”

The holy water and salt Buffy could handle, but that wouldn’t break Meg. Ruby’s knife tucked into Sam’s belt worried him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re white as a sheet,” said Sam, concerned.

Upstairs, people started to scream.

“You pretty much had to chain me to fight me,” Buffy shouted into the blackness.

This isn’t fighting, Firework. This is subjugation. Humans belong under a boot.

“You forgot something.” Buffy smiled, confident she could end this. “I’m the Slayer.”

The laugh. I don’t care if you’re the Pope. You’re still my puppet until I break you and toss you.

Buffy closed her eyes. It wasn’t just her and this thing trapped in here. Buffy was full of memories and love, of joys and comforts this monster couldn’t imagine. She dug down deep. She filled her mind with bright memories of her sister and mother. Of Dean’s tender kisses. Of her friends fighting by her side. She dug down into the parts of her that were warm and soft, the instinctive, protective parts.

That’s where Buffy found her.

At the first scream, Giles bolted upstairs. Sam took the stairs in twos.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was a trick -- another demon, maybe Caleb -- but he knew that he had to stay. He had to get Meg out of Buffy if they were going to win.

In the demon trap, Meg looked at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror. Buffy’s began to glow as if she’d swallowed a small sun. She fell to the ground, shaking and flailing. Then the room flared white.

Through the spots in his eyes, Dean could see a black cloud swirling above Buffy’s body. He pulled her free from the demon trap and held her in his arms. Small beads of sweat formed on her pale skin. Her eye fluttered for a moment before settling on him. “Dean.” Her voice was weak and fading.

It sounded like goodbye.

Willow’s sleep spell hadn’t worked as long as she’d hoped. She sat on the living room floor with Dawn sobbing into her shoulder.

Xander rubbed Dawn’s back. He’d known her since she was nine -- plucky, needy and already showing signs of teenage resentment. “Dean once told me a friend of theirs was possessed but managed to overpower the demon. Buffy’s gotta be stronger than that guy. You’ll see.”

“It’s my fault,” Dawn repeated. “We’re made for each other, and I pushed her out.”

“Maybe we should take her over to the neighbor’s with the rest of the girls,” Anya suggested.

Dawn sat up and glared at her with her one good eye. “No! I’m staying with my sister. I want to see her!”

The Potentials observed their domestic scene from the dining room, the bandage on Dani’s maimed cheek already red. Heading upstairs, Willow said, “I’m going to get more bandages and painkillers.”

Without warning, Dani was consumed by a blue light. She screamed, but other than lending their voices, everyone flattened themselves against the wall. The blue light floated off of her, toward the living room.

Another blue light appeared, but it quickly faded, leaving a short man with a small pursed mouth and golden eyes.

The first light surrounded Xander and Dawn. It was warm and tingly with occasional jolts of fire running through it. The man tapped the light, and it too became a man, with dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes. He pulled the bandage from Dawn’s eye, revealing a blue eye where there had been an empty socket. Frenzied, Dani yanked the bandage from her healed face.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to blow your vessel, Castiel.”

Castiel turned his head to the side like a dog trying to understand. His eyes darted between Spike and Rachel before choosing the girl. “People are hurt from our war, Gabriel. What else should I do?”

Sam and Giles burst into the room. “You!” Sam shouted, lunging at Gabriel. Gabriel flicked away, reappearing at the other end of the room with lightning arcing from his back.

“Lucy! I’m home!” he said with a grin. “Miss me?”

“Cas, we need your help.”

Gabriel laughed but was unamused. “Surprise, surprise. Heard you screwed things up with my brother. Grab Dean; I’ll take you home.”

“What? No, we have a situation in the basement.”

“I’m sure it’s dire, drama queen, but do you remember the little Apocalypse you left behind? There are still two Horsemen riding around in Satan’s saddle. Get your brother. We have to go.”

“You owe me, you son of a bitch!”

A darkness washed over Gabriel’s face before Castiel clamped his hand on his shoulder. “You promised you’d help. You promised you wouldn’t hurt them. Take me to the basement.”

Sam lead the two men and most of the curious group downstairs, where a black cloud swirled inside the devil’s trap, and Dean, his face wet with tears, cradled Buffy, pale and still in his arms. “Cas?” he said, his voice small and broken.

“Check on the girl. I’ll deal with the demon,” said Gabriel. He plunged his hands into the cloud.

Once more, lightning began to shoot from his back. The Potentials, Anya, and Andrew bolted back upstairs. In a second, the demon was gone.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. He put his hand on Buffy’s head and furrowed his brow. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“What do you --”

“I mean, I could wake her up, but she probably needs the rest. Did she expel the demon on her own?”

Shocked, Dean could only muster a nod.

“Fascinating.”

Buffy wiggled her head like she was fighting an early morning dream. She gazed at Dean through half-open eyes, leaned her head against his chest, and fell back into a dead sleep.

Dean didn’t know or care why angels were in Sunnydale. He didn’t care about what trick Gabriel was there to play. All that mattered was that the woman he loved, the woman who he thought had just died in his arms, was breathing against his neck. The Scoobies and Potentials pressed themselves against the wall as he carried Buffy upstairs.

He laid her on the bathroom floor and drew a bath. Dean felt gutted, his insides shoved back in every which way, sewn up with dental floss. He worried it wouldn't hold, one wrong move and his guts would spill out on the floor.

Dawn burst into the room, Willow right behind her. “She's okay?”

“Good as new. Just tired. I see your pirate career is in shambles.”

Dawn smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. “Those guys downstairs, they're angels aren't they? Your friend Castiel?”

“Yeah.” While he was thrilled to see Castiel, he knew this wasn't a casual visit. “Willow, you mind?” he asked gesturing at the bath. Buffy needed rest, but he knew she usually liked to clean the blood off first Willow, who seemed unusually pale and skittish, grabbed towels.

He heard a whimper as he started to get up. Buffy was reaching out to him, her voice crackling and raw. “It wasn't true. She lied.”

“I know,” he lied.

Downstairs Sam and Gabriel were already in a tense argument, the rest of house looking on in confusion and fear.

Everyone but Spike. “Come on! Get with the healing! Starting to feel like the only girl at the prom without a corsage.”

Castiel stepped toe-to-toe with Spike, their faces inches apart. “What sort of creature are you?” the angel asked.

“Lately, punching bag.”

“Good to see you, buddy,” said Dean, embracing the angel who believed he was worth saving.

“And how the hell do you think we can kill Death?” Sam shouted.

“I can get you the weapon. I need you to do it,” Gabriel said as Sam towered over him.

“What's going on?” Dean asked.

“This asshole--”

“Have some respect, Sasquatch.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Supreme Asshole wants to take us back home to kill Pestilence and Death, because he's too scared to do it himself.”

“This isn't a matter of fear, boy. Someone is going to have to keep the demons off of you.”

“Pestilence and Death? Why?”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Something about rings and a quest and a cage. It sounds like it should have swords and its own Hans Zimmer score.”

“You have the rings of Famine and War,” Gabriel explained. “Collect all four, you got yourself a door back to the cage.”

“Cage is open. Big freakin’ deal,” said Dean. “Lucifer's not going to walk in there on his own.”

“We are still working on an alternative to Sam's possession,” said Castiel.

“What, you got mine sorted?” said Dean.

The angels exchanged quick glances. “Zachariah found another.”

It was the Winchesters’ turn to look confused. That didn't make any sense. Dean was the result of years of cupid interference, breeding vessel with vessel. He was Michael’s only hope.

“They raised Adam,” Castiel explained. “They promised him that if he said yes, they would bring back his mother.”

“Adam? There's an Adam now?” asked Anya.

“We had a half-brother,” Sam said. “He was killed before we met him.”

“Oh goody. More Winchesters,” she grumbled. “Only good can come of this.”

“Granted, this is not my area of expertise,” Giles began, “but Dean is Michael’s true vessel. Wouldn’t possessing anyone else be playing with a handicap?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.” Gabriel shrugged. “He couldn't wait on you forever, Dean. Especially when he didn't know where I hid you.”

“You?” asked the brothers in unison.

“Lemme guess, you thought Cas had the juice to get you here? Please. He didn’t even know about this place.”

Someone tapped Dean’s shoulder. It was one of the Potentials, looking not at all eager to meet angels. “Willow sent me. Buffy wants to see you.”

“Come back tomorrow,” he told Gabriel.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to even get here?” the angel asked.

“Been a bitch of a day, Feathers. Come back tomorrow.” Dean raced up the stairs to find the bathroom empty. Wrapped in a towel, Buffy sat on her bed, her wet hair dripping on her sister, who looked like she had no intention of ever letting her go.

Buffy smiled at him softly when he entered the room. “Dean, would you take me home?”

next chapter