#he hangs off of vance hes always got a hand on him somewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkrabbit · 4 years ago

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Sucker - Pete x Vance

Sitting on his bed, yearbook resting in his lap, Pete stares at the signatures from the greasers. Summer break had started a few weeks ago, and while some students had gone back home or were on vacation outside of Bullworth, he had been trapped in his dorm. Sure, he went out occasionally to walk around town, see what was new at the cinema or get some fast food, but that was it. Even Jimmy had been too preoccupied to hang out with him, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. Sure, he had hoped maybe he could hang out with his best (and pretty much only) friend over the summer before the ginger went home, but when he found the dorm room closed and texts explaining he was working those odd jobs for extra cash, all those expectations had flew right out the window. Pete was used to being alone, sure, but this felt worse. Having finally made a friend and then to just be… forgotten.

So here he was, feeling sorry for himself and wondering if he could ease it by taking Vance up on his old offer. Join the greasers at the tenements, hang out and forget – just for a moment – that he was a loser. But the phone number seemed so intimidating, and as Pete grabbed his phone, he found it hard to do anything. To power it on, input his password and create a new text message. What would he say? “Hey Vance, I’m feeling lonely and wanna hang out”? Did that sound too desperate – too emotionless? Should he ask him how he was doing and hope he would be invited to hang out? He didn’t know how Jimmy did it. He had seen his friend start up a conversation out of nowhere. Even whenever he would text Pete, it would sometimes just be a simple “wanna hang out?” message that seemed so nonchalant. Is that what he should send?

His phone’s ringtone going off scares him, making him jump as he looks down at the caller ID. It’s a familiar phone number, and it’s only familiar because he’s spent the past hour or so staring at it in his yearbook. With a deep inhale, he accepts the call, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Vance! What’s up?” he greets, trying to sound confident as he closes the book, slipping it into his nightstand’s drawer.

“How’s it hangin’, big daddy?” What did he call him? Pete sits there, brows knitted together and mouth agape as the name replays over and over in his head. “You got my number memorized, huh? Now why’s that?”

“Ah, I was just gonna text you, actually,” he confesses, “Why do you have my number? I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“Jimmy gave it to me,” He can almost see the greaser shrug, his reply coming like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Now then, what were ya gonna text me?”

“Uh I guess – uh…” He’s stuck now, mind drawing a blank. He can hear Vance on the other side, an interested mhmm coming through loud and clear, curious to hear his reply. “I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out?”

There’s silence on the other end for a bit, and now he’s worried that was the wrong thing to say. He should’ve asked how he was doing instead, cursing himself for blurting out the first thing that came to mind. However, he starts to hear shuffling, and he can faintly make out someone else in the background, but not one he recognizes from the academy.

“If you don’t shut your mouth – not you, Petey – I’m gonna shut it for you!” Vance’s booming voice makes him jump, the sound of a door slamming shut at the end of his threat, as if proving a point. With a sigh of relief, he starts again in a calmer tone. “Now, what was that? Hangin’ out? Sure!”

“Ah, are you okay?” he asks, “Who was that?”

“Oh, ya mean the yellin’?” he chuckles, the shuffling continuing on the other side of the call. “Sorry ‘bout all that. Sergio’s a bit of a prick sometimes.”

“Sergio?” Vance lets out a breath that sounds like a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle.

“Older bro,” he tells him softly, and that airy, jokey tone has vanished. “Likes to butt into my life a lot. Annoyin’, but that’s why I stay away from home so much.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were home…” He should’ve guessed. Vance wasn’t one of the quiet kids at Bullworth. He was probably busy for the summer, either being home or with friends.

“Nah, I need a break,” Pete can only guess he hears a window creaking open, and a few seconds later, Vance is letting out a huff. “You still at school? I’ll come swing by, pick you up. We can do whatever.”

“Really?” He tries to keep his cool and not sound like some desperate dweeb, but with the soft chuckle he gets, he knows he failed.

“Really. ‘Sides, I told ya to hit me up whenever. That’s why I gave you my number!” The comment makes him smile and Pete makes sure to let his appreciation be known. With a soft goodbye, he lets himself relax. A smile is plastered on his face and for a moment he wonders why Jimmy had given Vance his number. Whatever the reason, he doesn’t dwell on it too long. He knew Vance lived somewhere in New Coventry and he didn’t have long to get dressed.

Setting his phone on the nightstand, he hops up from his bed and walks over to his wardrobe. He keeps it casual, knowing Vance wasn’t exactly someone who critiqued people’s fashion too harshly. The first thing he grabs is the old band shirt Jimmy had left when he spent the night months earlier. It’s simple enough, a white Billy Talent shirt with a little design, “like a fire!” right below it. It’s a little baggy and the material isn’t the thickest, but it’s something and truth be told, he had always liked the shirt. Or, just maybe, he liked how cool it had looked on Jimmy and he hoped it would look just as good on him. Throwing on some old jeans and his sneakers, he ruffles his hand through his hair, ridding himself of any lint. He lingers for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. Maybe he would grow his hair out this year? Something new.

With a shake of the head, he snatches his phone up and shoves it into his pocket, exiting his room and steering clear of Wade dumping one of the nerds into the nearby trashcan. Pushing open the doors, he jogs down the steps and makes his way over the main gate, anticipation coursing through him. A part of him is worried about how today’s events will transpire. What would they do? Would Vance make fun of him? Would he flake out? He did seem eager to meet up. But was that because he just wanted to get away from his brother?

“Ay, Petey!” He looks up, sending Vance a smile as the greaser approaches. Eyeing him up and down, Vance lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “What’s your tale, nightingale? Ya look different!”

“Oh, I uh – I-I didn’t wanna make you wait,” he responds, letting out a nervous chuckle. Vance claps a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Looks good on ya,” he tells him. Heat rushes to Pete’s face. How long had it been since someone had genuinely complimented him?

“T-thanks! You look good too!” It was the first time he had seen the teen like this. His hair had been slicked back, almost hastily, and while he still wore his leather jacket, the rest was different. A white dress shirt that had been unbuttoned, a black top underneath with matching jeans. Even his shoes were changed, old worn out high tops that were left untied.

“What? Ya like what ya see?” Vance’s teasing tone brings Pete out of his daze, the greaser laughing when he starts to stutter.

“I-I just – I mean I-” He takes a moment, breathing in and trying to collect himself as they start to walk. “Y-you just look different, too. Never seen you like that.”

“Got dressed quick,” he confesses, and even though his tone turns to a more calmer one, his smile never fades. “Wasn’t really expectin’ to go out today. Glad you asked, though. Sergio was startin’ his crap.”

“I never heard you talk of him,” That wasn’t much of a surprise. Pete had often kept his distance from shop class, intimidated of the clique and their hostile personalities. He wasn’t exactly the best at fixing bikes either and didn’t have much of a desire for it, which was why he had skipped it when filling out what extracurricular he had wanted. “What’s he like?”

Vance hums a bit, lost in thought as they pass over the bridge that led into Old Bullworth Vale. He tells Pete of how Sergio used to go to Bullworth, and how he was the main reason he got into fixing bikes and wanting to eventually move on to cars. They lived in a broken home, their father occasionally bringing home some woman for the night and locking them out. Sergio would often steal the keys to the car before they were pushed out, giving them a warm and somewhat safe place to sit in throughout the night. Vance never knew if his brother slept those nights, but he remembered falling asleep in the passenger seat, the older teen behind the wheel with a scowl on his face and switchblade in hand. They often parked on the street in the richer part of town, but Sergio was paranoid, knowing of the delinquents that roamed around. Apparently they were worse those few years ago from the stories he heard and the cuts and bruises on his brother’s body when he would come home in the early mornings. Vance even bragged about knowing how to set a broken nose and pop a shoulder back into its socket, much to Pete’s horror.

The stories of Sergio eventually turned into how Vance joined the greasers. Once the leader of the clique, he had filled Vance’s head with stories of shop class. The stupid antics he and the others would get into, the stories and conspiracy theories Neil would tell them. They all seemed very entertaining and fun, and it was no wonder Vance had wanted to experience it. Sergio had apparently appointed Johnny’s brother as leader, but had forced him to agree to watch over and take care of Vance when he started his high school life the following year, knowing how hostile the other member was. So before Vance had made friends with Lefty and made a strong connection, Johnny’s older brother was right by his side, deterring any other greaser that came up with ill intent.

“Maybe you’ll join us, too?” Vance’s suggestion catches Pete off guard, his eyes going wide as he looks at him. Could he ever really pass off as a greaser?

“I-I dunno,” he stammers softly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I-I don’t really see myself being… one of you guys.”

“I do!” he declares, a bright smile on his face. “C’mon! When school starts up, we’ll go talk to Neil!”

“We?” he repeats. Would Vance really go speak to the man with him to get him enrolled into shop?

“’Course! It’ll be fun!” he tells him confidently. His head is held high as he wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer. “You’ll have us to hang out with and protect you. What? You think sometimes I don’t wanna goof off in class?”

The greasers had always seemed so serious when it came to their bikes, but he told a different story. How he, Ricky and Peanut would make jokes, harass each other and even start small fights. They had been sent out more times than he could count, and Pete thought what that would be like.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally tells him. Throwing his fist in the air, Vance lets out an overjoyed holler. Pete supposed he would be speaking to Neil when August rolled around, and he would be spending more time with the greasers. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

Pete doesn’t realize they’ve made it all the way to the carnival until the loud music reaches his ears, having been too enticed in Vance’s interesting (and overly dramatic) stories. Some about the clique and some about his older brother. And as Vance pays for their way in, the greaser turns his attention to him.

“What about you?” he asks, curiosity thick in his voice as they find a bench to sit down on.

“W-what about me?” He lets out a nervous chuckle, avoiding the teen’s gaze.

“I told you all about me!” he starts as he raises his voice just a bit, “Now it’s your turn! What’s ol’ Petey’s life like?”

“Not as exciting as yours,” he confesses softly. Vance just scoffs, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” he dismisses with that snarky tone, “I seem to remember ya bein the one to operate that old hunk of junk in the junkyard way back when.”

“You mean the magnetized crane?” he clarifies, snicking as Vance rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, whatever,” He turns back to him, grin once again appearing on his face. “Now, again, tell me about yourself!”

“W-well...” There wasn’t much to tell, but Pete decided to share anyway. His story wasn’t as exciting or scary, but Vance seemed to take interest. He scoffed when Pete said his parents lived decently close to the school, but he lived in the dorm room anyway because his parents wanted “some peace and quiet”. No wonder he was so awkward. Vance would bet anything that his parents were to blame for the younger teen’s poor social skills. Not to mention his father was a librarian, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man kept a quiet tone around the house too.

When asked about any siblings, Pete could only shake his head. His parents were dismissive of his existence, often leaving him to his own devices, only coming around once in a while to check on him. His main entertainment was watching TV or playing video games, occasionally even drawing. His parents would buy him little sketchbooks, seemingly pleased that he had found something quiet to do without them having to hear noises coming from the television set. He did admit that he had a hamster at one point, an orange and white long-haired rodent that was his best friend for a few years before it passed from old age. It was sad that he didn’t even seem to have friends growing up, his parents not wanting him to go out in fear he would get hurt or taken. Maybe that was the only nice thing Vance had heard about the couple, but Pete had been right. His stories weren’t as exciting. Apparently his first year at the academy had been the most thrilling time of his life, and Jimmy had been his first and only friend. Vance couldn’t imagine having a life so… sad.

“How’s ‘bout we keep makin’ this depressin’ life of yours fun?” Vance suggests, a glint flashing across his eyes as he grabs the younger teen’s hand, pulling him up from the bench. Pete falters and stutters out a flurry of questions, almost tripping over his feet as he tries to keep up with the teen’s fast pace. Vance is just a bundle of laughter, promising him a night he wouldn’t forget.

They start at the back of the park first, walking through the freak show and marveling at the people behind the glass. Alfred, the skeleton man, had been the first freak to greet them, eyeing Pete as he took a drag from his cigarette. Seeing his bones poke out through his skin had sent shivers down his spine, and his voice held something Pete couldn’t quite place. As they made their way further in, they could hear Paris talking, making some remark about the show she was watching. Sitting on her couch with legs spread, she sent them an acknowledging smile as she picked up a few chips, throwing them into her mouth as she scratched at her beard. Of course, Vance had a couple remarks about her, but Pete had tried to drown him out as he led him throughout the rest of the freak show.

The others had all been interesting, and Pete had wondered how life could be so weird. Siamese twins, a mermaid that Vance wasn’t too sure was real. However, the one who stuck out the most to Pete was Drew, the crazy painted man. His screaming and incoherent rambling had already made the teen nervous, but when the man threw himself against the bars of his enclosure, he had jumped back with a shriek, scared the bars wouldn’t hold him. Vance had grabbed his arm, steadying him as he tried to calm his nerves.

“He’s just actin’,” he tells him as he shoots an agitated glance at Drew, “Guy’s just some wacko. Probably doin’ this for the easy money.”

Pete just nodded his head as he followed him, but the screaming had stuck with him, and he was sure it would for the rest of his life. And though he didn’t want to admit it, he was more than overjoyed to have walked out of the freak show, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding in. Maybe it was the dark lighting or how cramped everything felt, but Pete didn’t like it, only noticing once they were outside just how close he had been walking to Vance.

“How about we try out those rides ‘fore it gets any darker?” It’s only now that Pete realizes the sun is starting to set. With a smile, he gives him a nod and follows him over to the Big Squid. The line moved quick through the queue, and before they knew it, they were being seated in one of the carts. The monotone voice of Freeley comes through over the speakers, the request that everyone keeps hands and feet inside and not try to stand up during the ride. And when it starts, picking up speed and throwing them around, Pete can’t keep the smile off of his face, occasionally glancing over to Vance, seeing him laughing as well. It felt nice for Pete, to feel like he finally belonged somewhere or meant something to someone.

By the time they get off, both are a bit dizzy. Pete raises his hand to rest it on Vance’s shoulder in order to stabilize himself, but when he finally registers the cool leather beneath his palm, he pulls away, worried about what response he would receive from the greaser. However, Vance just gives him a joyful smile as he leads him over to the roller coaster. They’re not seated in the front, Pete being too nervous, so both opt for the cart in the middle.

“Lemme slide by ya there,” Vance’s voice is soft as he moves over Pete, who’s sitting in the seat closest to the steps they had just walked up. They pull the bar down securely, Pete giving a few extra tugs to ensure it wouldn’t be going anywhere. Of course this doesn’t go unnoticed, and the greaser snickers softly at the younger teen’s actions. Once more, they hear the monotone announcement before the ride starts, launching them towards the opening of the canyon before pulling them up. Everyone else on the ride has their arms raised, but Pete’s holding onto the metal bar for dear life. And as they approach the top of the hill, he screws his eyes shut, body tensing as he prepares for the worse.

A scream is pulled from him as the coaster falls down the hill, and Vance reaches over to pry his left hand from the handle bar, raising it into the air with his, yelling at him to just let loose and have fun. Although his body is trembling a bit from the fall, he takes the advice and finally opens his eyes, loosening the grip he had on his other hand and letting it raise into the air as well. Vance is still holding his hand, palms pressed together as Pete grips him with almost the same intensity as he was the bar. However, despite the biting wind in his face and the sharp turns that throw him into the teen, Pete can’t keep the large smile off of his face. Vance is right, this is a lot more fun. And as the coaster returns its original spot, the two are still laughing. The bar rises and Pete stands up, stepping out, still holding Vance’s hand to keep him steady and make sure he doesn’t trip as the greaser asks him how his hair looks. There’s one more ride and as they walk over, Pete has to stop the teen before he pays yet again for their fun.

“You’ve paid for everything!” he tells him with a laugh, digging out a dollar from his pocket and giving it to the operator. “It’s time I paid for something.”

“Well, ain’t you just the sweetest,” Vance smiles at him as he leads him over to the rickety seat. He scoots over to the end, allowing Pete to climb in after him, both pulling down the bar that creaked loudly. The ride starts, jerking them forward a bit as they follow the curve up. The sun’s set by now, and the carnival lights illuminate below them as they’re taken higher and higher up. Pete shivers as the soft breeze picks up, but he tries to concentrate on the view around them. He can see the beach in the distance, the lighthouse’s light rotating around. Their cart stops at the very top, rocking slightly and Pete looks below. They’re so high off the ground, it’s intimidating. Another shiver runs through him, this one out of fear.

“You cold?” Vance questions, cocking his head as he looks at him. Pete lets out a soft hum, eyebrows raised as he turns his gaze to meet his. Vance just gives him a cheeky smile as he brings his hands up, gripping his jacket and removing it from him. It was the first time Pete had seen a greaser without their iconic coat on, and he was honestly surprised to see that he actually had some muscle to him.

“U-uh… what’re you doing?” Pete’s confused when Vance drapes the jacket over his shoulders, but the warmth he feels is more than welcoming.

“You’re cold, ain’t ya?” he asks with a small chuckle, “I’m fixin’ it!”

“Y-you don’t h-have to,” he stammers softly, but Vance doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. He just sits there, a smile on his face as he tilts his head up, looking at the stars.

“Glad ya asked me out, ya know?” he starts, catching Pete off guard. He was glad? “Gets kinda… crazy at home sometimes, and everyone else was off doin’ their own thing. Managed to find Jimmy and get your number, just to chat but… well, you had a better idea.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” he agrees, going to hold the jacket close as he matches Vance’s smile. “I don’t really got anyone except Jimmy, and he’s been busy. I'm too cool to be a dork, and too dorky to be anything else, so I’m always just… alone.”

“No you’re not,” The confident tone makes Pete knit his eyebrows together. “Ya got me now! And soon, you’ll have the greasers! Peanut’s gonna be the leader, and I just know he’d be happy to have ya!”

“Maybe cause I’m Jimmy’s friend,” he scoffs softly, looking to the ground as the ride resumes, slowly bringing them down. “I just… I wanna feel like I exist without him, you know?”

“You do,” Vance wraps an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to him. “You and me? We’re existin’, right now, without Jimmy. And you’ll be existing, without Jimmy, when you join us.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll see,” Maybe it was the low self-esteem Pete always had throughout his life. How dull and mediocre it was, and how the most exciting thing to ever happen to him was falling in with the only two psychopaths in all of Bullworth. “Just feels like I only had a meaning when Gary and Jimmy showed up in my life.”

“And you’d be wrong,” As they get to the bottom and the railing lifts, the two make their way out of the old cart, thanking the man and being on their way. When they walk to the gates, Vance’s arm finds its way back across Pete’s shoulder and they fall into step towards the exit. “Tonight’s been amazing, and it’s because you asked me to come hang. Not Jimmy, and sure as hell not Gary. Don’t see any of those two makin’ you do this.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles. They walk back through the tunnel, Vance still giving him a pep talk he probably needed years ago. He’s still holding onto the jacket, his face tinted red and a smile pulling at his lips. It’s not long before they get into a more friendly conversation, making jokes and thoughts about what the next school year would hold. Vance kept referring to him as the newest greaser, and at this point, Pete wasn’t even denying him or the idea. He loved the thought in fact. To be part of a clique and feel like he belonged? Have something relatively close to a family that would care for him and make him feel like he mattered? It was almost like a dream come true.

They walk all the way back to school, sneaking past the prefects that were out prowling, looking for any students breaking curfew. It was a lot warmer inside the dorms when they entered, the doors shutting loudly behind them as they walked down the hall and towards Pete’s room. However, that was as far as Vance went. Standing outside of his room, he’s practically beaming at the younger teen.

“I had fun,” he tells him, and Pete can only nod in agreement. They stood closely together, and the faint smell of Vance’s cologne mixed with the cigarettes he smoked almost religiously had radiated off of him. It was nice, calming in a way.

“I uh – I’m uh… I-I’m really glad you called,” Pete laughs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Not sure I would’ve been able to text you.”

“Me too,” Curling his index finger under Pete’s chin, Vance raises his face so he’s looking at him again. Softly brushing his thumb across his bottom lip, he leans in to press a kiss to his mouth. Eyes going wide, Pete stares at him in disbelief when he pulls away, hearing a chuckle. “You have a good night, Petey. Maybe we can hang out again tomorrow.”

He opens his mouth to say something – anything, but nothing comes out. So instead, his just nods, his face on fire as the greaser chuckles once again. He takes a step back, gives him one last smile and finally moves to leave the dorm. Pete’s knees feel weak, his heart racing, thudding so loud against his chest that it reverberates in his ears. He turns to go inside of his room, but a gasp escapes his lips. He rushes after Vance, flinging the heavy door to the dorm rooms open.

“Y-your jacket!” he calls after the teen. Turning back with an innocently confused face, he looks Pete up and down. The leather jacket is still hanging from his shoulders. It was cute that he didn’t put his arms through the sleeves.

“You keep it,” he tells him, a smug grin forming. “Every greaser needs a leather jacket! Consider it a gift!”

“O-oh, o-okay…” He smiles, shrinking in on himself just a bit. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of it!”

Vance just nods, turning his heels and continuing his way out of school grounds and towards home. Pete watches him until he makes a right, disappearing behind the walls. With a soft sigh, he closes the door and returns to his room. He gently takes the jacket off, hanging it on the coat hanger by the door. His heart fluttered as he admired it, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. He owed Jimmy his gratitude, and come the beginning of the school year, he was going to make his way down to shop class and speak with Neil about joining.

#bully #bully scholarship edition #vance medici #pete kowalski #greaser #Sucker #kinda my oc #I own Sergio I guess #might actually make a legit story out of this oneshot :x

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stevebillyrecs · 5 years ago

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Halloween Fic Recs

+ 1k Followers! Thank you guys so much. I love sharing my fave fics with you here, so I’m really happy that you’re having as much fun as i do!

Now, this is a bit last minute, but it’s definitely still October in some parts of the world, so let’s go! Here’s an incomplete collection of Halloween-themed fics full of parties, costumes, magic, creatures, horror, gore, and pumpkins.

Included: Halloween, horror, or monster themed fics. Not included: The usual canon-typical Upside Down shenanigans, unless there’s a special spooky twist to it, or that one very particular Halloween ‘84.

31 fics under the cut – Happy Halloween!

Heaven is a Place on Earth by CeruleanHeart / @highon85 (3k, T, Winged!Billy)

One late summer night Steve finds an angel crash-landed in a dirty alleyway. Or so Steve thinks, until the guy opens his mouth. Billy is a mess, drunk and mean and not angelic in the least. But he’s also hurt and beautiful so Steve stays to help despite better judgement.

taste you on my tongue by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

“You’ve never felt pleasure like it, Steve,” an old girlfriend had told him once, her eyes bright with memory. She’d been from the big city, where the vampires had their pick of willing donors, where all they had to do to get a meal was walk into a club. Some of them, the older, better known vamps wouldn’t even have to do that. They could pull someone straight off the street, roll down their windows and beckon. Steve shrugged. “No vampires here, though.” They’d broken up a few days later, and he hadn’t given it much thought. After all, what were the chances that a vampire would end up in boring, small town Hawkins, Indiana?

Gee My Life’s a Funny Thing by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (7k, T, Mermaid!Billy)

Steve finds a boy in the water.

867-5309 (billy) by reject_mikeyy / @reject-mikeyy (14k, NR, Halloween)

Once he is done vomiting, Steve takes a second to rest his head on the cool toilet seat before realizing that. Wow. Ew. Not in the boys’ bathroom, thanks. Not in a homophobic way, don’t get him wrong, he’s eaten his fair share of ass but just. Germs and shit. Anyway. When he looks up from the bowl for the first time, he notices something scrawled on the wall at eye level. For a good time, text: 221-867-5309 Eyeroll. Or: In which Billy is the unlucky sucker with his number written on a bathroom stall, and Steve is the oblivious fool who actually texts him.

the wild hunt by celoica / @celoica (3k, E, Witch!Steve, Werewolf!Billy)

It had been his idea. Everything had been his idea. From the day Billy Hargrove had rolled up in his vintage car to the day Steve had walked into school with a fresh bite on his neck, proudly scabbed over and on display for his entire class to see, it had been all Steve’s idea. Billy did something witchy to his blood, thickening it under his skin and making it hard for him to think about anything else. At first, he’d thought maybe an incubus, something demonic and lust-driven and so out of place in tiny Hawkins, Indiana, until Laurie had leaned over and whispered about the new kid being a werewolf. The last time they’d had one of those in Roane County had been before Steve had been born. Even without the full moon to influence him, Billy was everything Steve had imagined a werewolf to be; aggressive and larger than life, in tune with the people who watched him with curious eyes, charming until it made Steve’s stomach clench in jealousy when his attention was on anyone but him. Witchy. To him. The witch.

bury a friend (try to wake up) by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (1k, M, Witch!Steve)

Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

been crawling by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E, Halloween)

The crop top was right there on the main aisle in the women’s section. Steve’s not entirely sure, like, why it exists, but he’s not disappointed about it. The rest of it came together pretty quickly (and cheaply) after that. So anyway, that’s how he finds himself drinking jungle juice out of a red solo cup looking like the twenty-two-year-old-man version of Karen Smith, animal ears and too much skin, bada boom, costume. I’m a dog. Duh.

journeys end by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (11k, M, Ghosts)

When Billy convinces Steve to spend Halloween at the Vance house—an abandoned house on the outskirts of Hawkins rumoured to be haunted—they discover that the Upside Down doesn’t have the monopoly on otherworldly.

Tell Me, What Did You Expect? by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (2k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

After the battle of Starcourt, Steve wakes up on his living room couch with Billy Hargrove standing over him. There’s something a little different about Billy.

i shot the sheriff by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (800, T, Halloween)

Drunk shenanigans.

tides will bring me back to you by eternalgoldfish / @eternalgoldfish (32k, M, Ghost!Billy)

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Billy sat in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the clock on the mantle tick and the refrigerator hum. Steve Harrington was nothing to him, a regret, maybe, a bitter taste in his mouth, but not a friend. If Billy was resentful, he thought maybe he’d see the logic in the afterlife pinning them together, but he didn’t feel a sense of longing or torment, didn’t feel like he was being pulled between life and death, or between realms. He just was, painless, lead in his belly as he sat on the floor by Steve’s feet. If he was meant to be trying to get somewhere, he didn’t know where. Was he supposed to pass on? He curled his knees up to his chest and watched Steve sleep, Steve’s lips shiny with spit and hair hanging over his forehead. Or, how to find love as a ghost.

Haunted House Workers by prettyboiiharringrove / @prettyboiiharringrove (1k, T, Costumes)

It’s far from the easiest job in the world, but Billy met the love of his life through this gig and he gets to scare people on a daily basis, so most of the time it’s a fucking dream, but tonight, well tonight Billy is feeling a little concerned and a lot murderous.

teeth only for you by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (2k, M, Vampire!Steve)

Steve has a secret. Billy thinks he knows what it is, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross by Your_Iron_Lung / @godshattered(WIP, 66k, T, Werewolf!Billy)

A strange string of parties held out in the deep woods of Hawkins, Indiana, plays host to Steve Harrington and his doubts about his future. Every weekend the party is relocated, and somehow Steve is always privy to the knowledge of where it’s going to be. What he doesn’t know is who’s hosting them, or why. There’s something weird about them that he can’t quite place, but he still finds himself drawn to them week after week, if only to use them as an escape from his stressful post-Upside Down reality. The weirdest part of all, however, is the fact that Billy Hargrove seems to be invited to them as well, and- There’s something in the woods.

a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole) by tol_sirion / @etterklang (3k, E, Demon!Billy)

Steve knows not to wander off alone in the woods, has been told not to so many times. He’s never been very good at listening. It pays off.

Never Seen That Color Blue by Kerasines / @kerasines (WIP, 4k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.” He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fucking tentacle being attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like. “Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars.

You’re Dead and Out of this World by shocked_into_shame (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a vampire and Steve is his familiar, toiling after him with the promise that one day he’ll become immortal too. You’d think that Steve would have a certain amount of reverence for the dead - but all he can muster is annoyance these days.

Through The Forest, Through The Trees by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (WIP, 24k, E, Were-demogorgon!Billy)

Billy gets bitten by something strange in the woods. After that, life becomes even stranger.

Hawkins Hunting Ground by lonelytarot / @lonelytarot (1k, NR, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Hawkins is a mess, that’s normal. But Steve isn’t the only vampire in Hawkins? That’s a surprise.

like real people do by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, M, Ghost!Billy)

“No one told me that you molest people in their sleep,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice quiet. Above him, Johnny grunts and turns over. The hand goes still. “You can see me,” a voice murmurs. “Yeah.” Steve sighs. “I can see you.” “How?” Steve’s been able to see dead people since he was four years old. But people don’t tend to respond well when children tell them that the old man across the street watering his lawn had a bullet through his head, so after the fourth therapist, Steve had learned that it was something best kept secret. “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

A love of violence by gideongrace / @gideongrace (6k, E, Serial killer!Billy)

Billy and Neil are serial killers. One night, Neil brings Billy a present. The boy he’s been lusting after - Steve Harrington - blindfolded and tied to a bed in a motel room. Neil clearly thinks this is a good idea. He almost certainly wouldn’t think it would end in his death. (He’s wrong.)

this sweet plague by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, M, Zombie!Steve, Zombie!Billy)

In 1985 Steve Harrington dies. His parents and the people of Hawkins all believe it was a tragic accident. Only a small group of people know he died valiantly protecting his friends from monsters. Six months later, he is one of the dead who rise again.

unbutton my shirt, i’ve a hard day (i hate my work) by asphaltworld / @asphaltworld (WIP, 2k, M, Halloween)

Billy’s stuck working for a food delivery app on Halloween night to pay off a traffic ticket. Somebody in the rich part of town places a weird, annoying order. But he hoofs it over anyway, because he needs the cash.

a tent(acle)ative understanding by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger(WIP, 3k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

“Are you going to eat me?” Billy pauses, tongue out, halfway across the wound. He withdraws. Curiosity. Trouble. “Would you like me to?”

teething vampire Billy, okay? that’s what this is by womenseemwicked / @women-seem-wicked (1k, T, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a recently turned vampire. Steve is his comforting vampire boyfriend. I don’t even know, guys. this just happened.

getting better at becoming a ghost by thecopperkid / @the-copperkid (4k, E, Halloween, Serial killer)

“What? You’re not scared, are you?” “No,” he answers, indignant, but he doesn’t even convince himself. “No, I just --” “You know what they say about fear, right?” the voice asks. “That it’s almost indistinguishable from arousal. That your body can’t tell the difference.” “They don’t say that,” Steve says, poking his head out the door and looking left to right. He’s just fucking exasperated. “Nobody says that.” “I say that.” Or: Steve gets a Scream-style call while he's babysitting the kids on Halloween night, and right now would be a really good fucking time for Billy to get home from work. Billy likes masks.

The Seventh Life by Klayr_de_Gall / @klayr-de-gall (WIP, 7k, M, Witch!Steve, Familiar!Billy)

With Allhallowtide looming two nights over, Steve feels restless and irritated, a bit on edge. The pull of that powerful event makes his bones arch stronger every year. The last thing he needs is some Californian Hotshot swaggering into his life, carrying the smell of trouble and a curse.

If You Need It (Do It For Me) by youcallherhephanie / @harring-rove (2k, T, Vampire!Steve)

Suffice to say, Billy’s neighbour was weird. Not the usual type of weird; you didn’t catch him smelling someone’s hair or lingering in an alleyway like a creep. No, he wasn’t weird weird, but there was something off about the guy. Whenever he was coming back from his morning runs, up in the early morning when the sun just barely peaked over the city, Billy’d see the guy walking through the apartment building. Sometimes, they’d bump into each other when collecting their mail, when using the elevator. It was always a nod, a hello from Billy and a terse smile from the guy - Harrington, he’d found out from the group of grannies who lived in the building. That was where their interactions left. But maybe things were in for a change.

It Happened at the Halloween Fair by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald & socknonny / @socknonny (9k, T, Halloween, Monsters)

All Steve wants is to enter his mom’s pie at the Halloween Fair… what he doesn’t expect is Billy Hargrove, sentient teddy bears, and a giant, pink monstrosity. Seems like Halloween is about to get a whole lot weirder.

Effective Immediately by lololaufeyson / @lokibi (WIP, 22k, E, Vampire!Billy)

A what-if alternate ending and continuation of the season three finale where Billy tries to get out of dodge, but finds a few too many strings tethering him in Hawkins. Now if only he can find some damn scissors....

Where the wolf bane blooms by Confettibites / @confettibites (2k, E, Werewolf!Billy)

Steve Harrington stays behind in the school gym and something very odd happens when Billy shows up.

#harringrove #harringrove fics #stranger things #reclist #harringrove rec #halloween

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 11: Seeking Truth

Emma returned to the precinct later that afternoon, after a visit with Lily's parents. Killian sensed her somber mood, but approached anyway with a file in his hand.

"I got you in later...if you still want to talk to Walsh," he mentioned.

"Thanks," she said stiffly and he gave her another look. She sighed.

"I went...to see Lily's parents," she confessed. He sighed.

"It wasn't your fault...and you were cleared," he reminded her.

"She's still dead," she countered.

"And she'd still be dead if you had let her drive that night and maybe you with her," he argued.

"Emma...don't waste your miracle on your pain," he urged and she changed the subject quickly. Denial was an Emma Nolan favorite move.

"Anything else on the Taylors from my text earlier?" she asked.

"I ran them both...the husband is clean," he said, as she looked over the information. Apparently Tisbe and Jacob own a few commercial buildings, but it was the shopping mall they owned that stuck in her mind for some reason.

"Uh thanks...I gotta go. I'll be back later to talk to Walsh," she said, as she hurried out and he watched her go longingly.

~*~

David smiled, as his son arrived at the hospital with his father and ran to him. He picked him up and hugged him tightly.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked.

"Yeah...where's Mom?" Henry asked.

"She's on her way," he promised, as he and his father locked eyes and Regina arrived.

"Hello Henry...are you ready for your treatment today?" she asked.

"Yeah…I made this for you," Henry said, as he showed her his drawing.

"For me?" she asked.

"Yeah...it's all of us in my family and you and your dad Henry," he replied. She was surprised by the drawing since the boy had never met her father, yet seemed to capture his likeness. She grinned at him.

"I love it," she replied, as she took his hand. David waved to him, as she took him into the room.

"David…" Robert said, as his son turned to him and then was surprised when he hugged him.

"Thank you...you were there for Margaret and Ollie when I couldn't be. You kept it together for them," he said. Robert shook his head.

"It was the very least I could do and I more than owed it to you," he replied.

"I...I failed you and Emma, but when I lost you both, I told myself that if I fell back in the bottle that I would keep failing you. And that was even worse than losing you," Robert confessed.

"And I couldn't have gotten through any of it without you," Margaret said, as she arrived and hugged him, before slipping her arms around David's waist.

"And you've more than made it up to me by being there when I couldn't be," David assured, as Regina returned and Robert hugged them both, before leaving.

"Can I talk to you both a minute?" she asked.

"Sure...is something wrong with Henry?" Margaret asked with trepidation, as they stepped into her lab.

"No...he's responding well to the treatment. Very well, actually," she replied.

"But I found a unique protein in his blood and so I tested my own and I have it too," she explained.

"Then you think all the passengers might have it?" David asked.

"I can't be sure, but I'd like to take some blood from you if you're open to that," Regina replied.

"Sure," he said, as he rolled his up sleeve and she proceeded to extract a couple vials.

"Do you think the marker is something to be concerned about?" Margaret asked.

"Not necessarily, but I'll know more when I see if David has it too and keep researching," Regina replied, as her phone kept beeping. In annoyance, she switched it to vibrate.

"Just my mother wanting me to come to some pesky dinner. I think I'll have to go just to shut her up," Regina commented, before putting the phone back in her pocket.

"Let us know if you find anything," David said. She smiled and nodded.

"I will," she agreed.

~*~

Gold sat in the conference room, lost in thought, as he gazed at a photo. His thoughts were interrupted when Vance entered the room.

"Your favorite siblings are proving to be a pain in the ass," he commented. Gold smirked.

"Any valuable assets usually are, in my experience," he said.

"Your experience is interesting for sure, but I found something even more interesting in your past," Vance said, as he slapped a folder down on the table.

"You've been digging into the Nolan's pasts," Gold said.

"Margaret Nolan is the only person that showed up at the hanger with their spouse. She wasn't on the plane. I'm going to investigate a woman like that," Vance replied.

"I had no idea that Margaret Nolan was really born Mary Margaret Blanchard, the disowned daughter of Wall Street tycoon Leopold Blanchard," he said.

"I'm not sure why that is relevant. Leopold Blanchard isn't a nice man. His daughter is probably better off without him," Gold replied.

"I don't disagree. The NSA would love a better look into his operation, but he pays the right people to keep us out," Vance commented.

"But I found some interesting things in her past and his," he continued, as he produced some documents.

"The Nolan's mother was killed when they were twelve, the father was a drunk, and yet CPS was always diverted from their home, due to a mysterious financial adviser that made sure their bills and any other matters were always handled," Vance said.

"You can stop beating around the bush already, director. I appreciate your usual directness," Gold replied.

"The same adviser saw to it that Margaret Blanchard was emancipated from her father at sixteen as well," he continued, as he opened the file.

"The weird thing is...the financial adviser never went in person and sent a gopher named Jefferson to do all the in-person work, and operated under the peculiar name of Mr. Gold's Pawnshop," Vance said.

"And you'll find that all my records are impeccable," Gold retorted.

"Yes, you dotted all the i's and crossed your t's. But you failed to mention to me that you have been watching this family for a very long time," Vance said. Gold met his eyes.

"You're right...they have been on my radar for years now and if I knew why, I would tell you. All I know is that...they are important and now with the plane, I'm starting to see why," Gold said vaguely. Vance sighed.

"None of that makes any sense," he complained.

"No...it doesn't, director. But I assure you that I'm after the truth, just like you. But the Nolan's...they aren't the enemy. There is an enemy in this somewhere, but it's not them. In fact, I would be bold enough to claim that they are rather the saviors in all this. I don't know how or why...but they are the heroes in this, so to speak," Gold said.

"If you say so…" Vance said skeptically, as he continued to look through the file. Gold smirked and looked at his photo again, before putting it away and going back to work.

~*~

After Henry's treatment, the Nolan's arrived home and David was surprised to see Olive and a boy on the porch. David did a double take when he saw him and then recognized him.

"Nicholas?" he asked.

"Wow...hi Mr. Nolan," he replied.

"Wow...look at you," David mentioned, as Henry froze when he saw him.

"Hey Henry...it's Nicholas," David said.

"Hey Henry," the now older boy said awkwardly, as he and Olive slowly pulled their hands apart. She looked at him with a bit of guilt and Henry ran inside.

"Henry!" Margaret called. David looked at her and squeezed her hand.

"I'll go talk to him...it's a lot," he said. She nodded.

"Good to see you Nicholas," David said, as he went inside and Nicholas went home.

"I'm sorry Mom...I should have told Henry that Nicholas and I...hang out," Olive said awkwardly.

"It's okay honey...we're all navigating this together. Henry knows you'd never intentionally hurt him," Margaret said, as they went inside the house.

"Go talk to him...you two are due for a good twin talk I think," she suggested. Olive nodded and headed up, as Margaret put her bag down and went through the mail. She saw a few things of interest, but put them down for now, before going to the kitchen.

"So Ollie has a boyfriend," David mentioned, as he came into the kitchen. She smiled.

"If you can even call it that. It's mostly holding hands and hanging out, but he's been good for her," Margaret said, as he slipped his arms around her waist.

"I was definitely not ready for this though," he muttered and she smiled coyly.

"No...but then you were never going to be ready for your little princess to date. I mean, you were bad with Emma so we always knew it was going to be hard for you with Ollie," she said.

"Hey, in my defense, Emma dated some losers," he replied.

"I did not," Emma protested, as she came in and they both gave her a look.

"Okay...some of them were the who's who of human crap," she admitted, making Margaret snicker.

"Mmm...most girls don't get as lucky as I did," she purred, as she slipped her arms around her husband's neck and they shared a kiss.

"Ugh…" Emma complained, as she opened the fridge and grabbed a water.

"Like you two can talk. You were sleeping with each other at sixteen," the blonde reminded.

"We were in love...and we're in love now," David countered her argument and Emma rolled her eyes, as they started dancing in the kitchen.

"You two want to be alone or you want to hear what I found out today?" Emma asked. They stopped dancing, but kept their arms around each other and turned their attention to her.

"So...it turns out that the Taylor's own a bunch of properties, including a mall and I was digging and it seems like some of the mall employees don't exactly have a paper trail," Emma said.

"Illegal immigrants?" David asked.

"Possibly...now I'm not interested in busting anyone there, because that's not my job, but I think it may be worth checking out," Emma replied.

"You think if they're here illegally and Tisbe maybe found out...you think she was going to turn them in?" Margaret asked.

"I'm not sure, but she kept repeating the own your truth thing and maybe someone wanted to shut her up. Someone that stood to lose everything," Emma replied.

"It's a good theory. So you don't think this Walsh Ozwald is the killer?" David asked.

"I won't know more until I talk to him, but I thought I'd head down to the mall and check it out. You up for it?" Emma asked. David smirked.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to get involved with the investigation, because I'm a civilian," he teased and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well it's a little late for that, genius. Let's go," she said irritably. David and Margaret shared a kiss, before he followed her out.

~*~

"Hey…" Olive said, as she opened his door.

"Can I come in?" she asked and he just shrugged.

"I'm sorry...I should have told you that I was hanging out with Nicholas," Olive confessed.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"I'm not mad...he was just my friend first," Henry complained, as she sat down beside him.

"I know...this must be so awkward for you," she said.

"Yeah…and to think I used to be taller than him," he joked and she smiled.

"So...you're actually dating him?" Henry asked incredulously.

"I think dating is a strong word...but yeah I guess you could say that," she admitted.

"Ugh…" he complained.

"He's a pretty good kisser," Olive teased.

"Uuuggghhh…" Henry groaned even louder, making her laugh.

"He's been a pretty good friend, but he's still not my best friend," she said.

"Who's your best friend?" Henry asked.

"Duh...you silly," she replied, making him smile.

"But...are we even twins anymore? I mean...I'm still ten and you're fifteen now," he reminded her.

"I know, it's a really weird situation, but pretty unique. I mean, we're still twins since we were born together and I still felt like you were out there while you were gone, you know," she said.

"Really?" he asked. She nodded.

"People thought I was crazy, including most of my friends. Nicholas never did though, or at least he never said I was like others did. Lance was like that too, but in a different way," she mentioned.

"Isn't Lance the guy that wanted to date Mom?" he asked, a bit defensively. She laughed.

"Yeah...but Mom knew Dad was out there too. She felt it like I did. We never have to worry about Mom and Dad not being together, which is comforting since most of my friends have divorced parents," she mentioned.

"Yeah...our family is weird," he said, making her laugh again.

"Definitely weird...but in a good way. So...are we good?" she asked.

"That depends," he replied.

"On what?" she asked.

"On whether you'll help me with this," Henry said, as he pulled out his Lego Death Star.

"Oh...it's on, but we need the kitchen table for this one. Let's go," she said, as she took his hand and they went downstairs.

~*~

David and Emma arrived at the small shopping center and saw that most of the shops were closed already, but they spotted one woman, who was just locking up and called to her.

"Excuse me...can we talk to you for a moment?" Emma called, but the woman must have spotted the badge on her hip and broke into a run.

"Dammit…" Emma cursed, as they gave chase.

"Wait...we just want to talk!" she called, as they caught up to her and David blocked the exit.

"Please...don't turn me in. I have children…" she pleaded.

"We're not interested in turning you in. We just have a few questions about your Landlords. Answer them and we never saw you," Emma promised.

"You can trust her," David assured, as the woman saw that he did not have a badge.

"Mr. and Mrs. Taylor…" the woman said.

"The night before Tisbe Taylor died...the parking garage clocked her car here. Did you see her?" Emma asked. The woman nodded.

"My name is Cecelia and she came to me the night before. I thought she was here to collect the rent," she replied.

"And that scared you?" David asked. She nodded.

"Mr. Taylor overcharges on the rent for his tenants and if you don't pay, he calls immigration and turns you in," she explained, as the siblings exchanged a glance.

"But Mrs. Taylor came to apologize for that. She said she was going to shut down that practice and charge fair rent. She said she had to own her truth," Ceceila explained.

"Wait...she said those exact words?" David questioned. Cecelia nodded.

"She repeated that phrase several times," she confirmed. David and Emma exchanged another glance.

"Thank you," they said, as they left her and walked back toward the exit.

"So...that kind of makes Mr. Taylor a suspect now, right?" David asked.

"Oh hell yes," Emma replied.

~*~

Director Vance arrived at the twenty-eighth precinct and casually noticed that Emma Nolan's desk was empty, but continued his way on toward the Captain's office.

"Captain Humbert," he said, as he peered in and flashed his badge.

"Director Vance, NSA," he introduced.

"Director…" Graham uttered, as he stood up.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"You can tell me about your newest Detective, Emma Nolan," Vance replied.

"Emma is a great cop...I'm happy to have her back," Graham said.

"Oh, she would have to be. First day as a Detective, without even completing her physical or psych evaluation and she's already solved a huge case. That certainly takes skill," Vance replied.

"I'm sorry...do you have a reason to believe that Detective Nolan's work isn't genuine? She found and saved two abducted girls," he said defensively.

"Yes...when an entire precinct could not after canvassing for several days and then your wonder Detective, freshly returned from presumed death, finds them on a whim," Vance replied suspiciously.

"I don't know what you think is going on, Director, but I can assure you that Emma is just one of the best and brightest the force has ever seen. It was no surprise to me that she was able to crack this case," he said.

"You see, Emma has always been gifted when it comes to finding people. She has a natural ability and it was recognized even before the plane," he explained.

"That's interesting...then you won't mind me taking a look at the case files," Vance replied.

"I'll get them now. This precinct, including Detective Nolan, have nothing to hide," Graham assured. While he was gone, Vance stepped out into the hall, only to find Killian there.

"What interest do you have in Emma?" he asked defensively.

"It seems you were lucky when Emma Nolan came back from the dead and solved your case for you, Detective Rogers," Vance replied.

"Two little girls were saved, Director. I hardly care how it was done," Killian countered. Vance smirked.

"She solved your case; a case you had squat on, but this can turn out good for you," Vance said, as he offered his card.

"Or bad," he added.

"Your choice. You be my eyes and ears on Emma Nolan...or you don't. One can make your career and the other...well, you're a detective. You can figure it out," Vance said, as he walked out, missing Emma arriving by only a few minutes.

~*~

David arrived home and found a very heartwarming sight, as his kids were putting together a Lego Death Star at the table, while his wife dished up some ice cream for them.

"Hey...there you are. There's some pizza left in the fridge," she told him, as she offered him a spoonful of ice cream, which he ate off her spoon.

"Mmm...maybe later. I love starting with dessert," he said, as he slid his arms around her waist and she was surprised the ice cream didn't melt like she did, as he kissed her neck.

"Dessert is the best…" she purred in response, as they shared a kiss.

"Where's Em?" she asked.

"I dropped her at the station. Turns out...Mr. Taylor might have a motive," he replied. She gasped.

"Emma thinks he killed his wife?" she asked in horror.

"Maybe...according to some of the tenants at the mall they own, Mr. Taylor overcharges on rent and then threatens to call immigration if they don't pay. But Mrs. Taylor was going to put a stop to it," he replied.

"That's horrible...but does that mean maybe she wasn't targeted because she was a passenger?" Margaret asked. He shrugged.

"It's possible...and I hope so. It's sad that she was murdered, but I think I'll rest a bit easier if we find out it wasn't because she was a passenger," he replied, as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I guess I forget sometimes that not every woman has what I have in their marriage," she mentioned. He kissed her tenderly.

"Mom...where's our ice cream?" Henry called and they shared a smile.

"So impatient...wonder where he gets that from?" he teased and pinched her rear, making her gasp.

"I will get you for that later," she warned.

"You better," he said, as he helped her finish dishing up ice cream for all of them.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Mr. Gold #AU #Manifest #with a Once twist #romance #adventure #family #lightning in a bottle

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rileymarie · 5 years ago

Text

Apokalypsis Pt. 2

Apokalypsis was gonna be a book about two kids who rob a house on the same night the Apocalypse takes place. There was gonna be a bunch of Mythological references and creatures and it was super cool.

Read part one here: https://danielleslayer.tumblr.com/post/185508115958/apokalypsis-was-gonna-be-a-book-about-two-kids-who

“Surprise?” Vance sighed, shoving the photograph back in the duffle.

“God dammit.” Of course, that was why the house looked familiar.

“Sorry, but you know her dad is loaded!” he whispered. “And probably wouldn’t kill anyone and works really late and I mean, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Uh, how about not take me to rob the girl I’ve been in love with since I was eight.” Darrien growled.

Vance twisted his lips to the side. “Right. Good point.” He said. “But we’re here now. So let’s just do this, ok? She won’t see us. I promise.”

Darrien’s heart was slamming against his chest. Cleo Lawrence, who’d friend zoned him long ago and now they only spoke every now and again in AP Bio when he pretended to need help with a problem, the one and only reason for his A- minus cause he didn’t have the heart to tell her when she got an answer wrong. Was this to be their last encounter? Robbing her at gunpoint? He was gonna be sick and throw up all over her nice floor, and then the cops would come and -

“Come on.” Vance seethed. Darrien looked. He was already at the top of the stairs, crouched beside her door.

“Fuck.” He watched in horror as Vance snuck passed the open door, then motioned for him to follow. He held his breath and pressed himself against the wall, peering around the corner.

Cleo was hunched over her desk, her headphones in as she typed, her face screwed up in concentration. Darrien felt a smile cross his lips.

“Darrien!” Vance pressed.

Carefully, he crawled past the door, not exhaling until he made it to the other side. Vance grinned, held his hand up in a high five. Darrien shook his head.

“Right. This way.” Vance said, crawl-crouching his way down the hall. Darrien kept looking over his shoulder, panicking at the thought of Cleo walking out of her room at any moment and seeing them.

“This must be the master.” Vance said when finally they reached the door at the end of a long hall. He pushed it open, flicking his flashlight back on after he gently closed the door behind them.

Darrien stood up, wishing he could take his mask off. He was sweating profusely.

“Woah. Cool picture.” Vance said, throwing the light on a large painting of Pegasus, his wings splayed in flight above the bed.

“Her dad is obsessed with Greek stuff.” Darrien remembered Cleo telling him that once.

“Maybe he has a collection somewhere.” Vance said. “Here we go, baby.” Vance said, throwing open a door to a walk in closet. “There’s gotta be a vault in here. There’s always vaults in closets.” He said matter-of-factly, pushing aside suits hanging up.

“Just fucking hurry.” Darrien frowned, thumbing an expensive looking watch that Vance hadn’t noticed. He’d met Cleo’s dad. Well, he’d seen him picking Cleo up from school anyway. He seemed nice.

“Bingo.”

Darrien put the watch back and looked. Vance’s flashlight was shining on a medium sized steel safe sat beneath a rack of clothes.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Darrien said with a smirk, coming up beside him. “So how ya gonna get it open, genius?”

“Can you stop with the genius thing?” Vance said, poking his tongue in his cheek as he frowned at the safe. “Just let me think.”

“Alright, genius.” Darrien said, poking his head out of the closet to see if anyone was coming. “Just don’t take too long…”

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Darrien whispered, turning to see Vance whacking the safe wheel with his flashlight. “That’s not gonna fucking work you idiot!”

“Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

“Maybe the combination is around here somewhere.” He said. “Check the back.”

“Oh. Good idea.” Vance said, pressing his head against the wall as he tried to peer at the back of the safe. “I can’t fucking see. Help me pull it out.” He said.

Darrien came around on the other side. “One, two, three.” He said, and with much effort, they managed to pull it away from the wall. Vance shone his light on the back.

“Nothing. Just serial numbers.” Vance said, standing up and bracing his hands on his hips. “And considering I didn’t bring my safe cracking kit with me, I think we only have one option here.”

“Which is?” Darrien panted.

“Take it home.” He said.

Darrien’s jaw dropped. “Take the hundred pound safe home? How the hell are we gonna get it out?”

“Push it! Come on. Think about the children, Derr!”

“Vance, Cleo is in the other fucking room, there is no way we were lugging this mother fucker out of here.”

“Yes. Yes we fucking are.” He said, and Darrien’s heart sank, cause he had that look on his face that he got when he was not to be reasoned with.

The next thing Darrien knew, they were pushing the safe down the seemingly never-ending hallway. They were coming up on the worst part, the part that was going to fuck everything up, the part where Cleo caught them and they were sent to prison and-

Vance pressed his finger over his lips. Darrien held his breath and helped push it passed Cleo’s bedroom, using all his strength to make it over the gap, peering into the doorway at the last second.

She’d stopped typing but her headphones were still in thank god or they’d be seriously fucked by now, and she was reading over something, her lips moving as she whispered the words to herself, god she was so fucking cute-

Vance waved his hand in the air, trying to get his attention. Oh yeah, he was supposed to be pushing. He gathered up his last bit of strength and at last they slid it passed the doorway.

But now they had another problem. They both stared down the staircase. It was steeper than Darrien remembered, and about a thousand steps long.

“So, you wanna be the catcher?” Vance whispered, tongue in cheek.

“Hilarious.” He mumbled, going around to the front of the safe.

“Alright, go.” Darrien whispered.

Vance pushed it slowly over the edge of the stairs. It landed on the lower step with a thick thud. They both made a face, looking up at Cleo’s door. There were the little clicks again, she hadn’t heard. Darrien almost laughed, or cried, Vance really did pick the perfect house to rob.

“Got it?” Vance said, pushing the safe down.

“Got it.” Darrien grunted, braced.

“You sure you got it?” Vance said as they heaved it down the stairs.

“I got it!” he groaned. This thing was fucking heavy.

“Hold on!” Vance seethed at him, because his hands were all sweaty and slipping.

“I am, I am,” he said, but then suddenly he wasn’t and he moved out of the way just barely in time, watching in horror as the safe clambered down the final few steps and hit the bottom with a sick crash.

They stared at it, frozen in fear.

“Think she heard that?” Vance mumbled, looking up at Cleo’s door.

tags: if you wanna be added to the taglist, just let me know!

@aurisadventure @dreadwvlfscript @writing-frontiersman @psychecoffee

#my writing #apokalypsis #writeblr #danielle slayer #first draft #mythology #this is all i have written so if you want me to write more plz let me know #& i'll try

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findasongblog · 6 years ago

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youtube

Find a #live song

Snow Patrol ft. Mig-El - Run

That one time I played with Snow Patrol

(Samsung Hall, Dübendorf - Zürich CH, 19.01.2019)

I would say this is my most biased review and it probably will be, but when it comes to art it is impossible to be objective anyway so there is my excuse.

Snow Patrol (my favourite band if you don’t know) has finally started their proper tour in support of their come back album Wildness. That means concerts all over the globe and full production arena show. Go and grab tickets for a concert near you whilst they are on the road, if you haven’t yet.

First things first. Snow Patrol likes to choose their own support acts. Gary (lead singer and guitarist) in particular tries to support artists from his dear home Northern Ireland and so this time they have taken with them on the first leg of the European tour not one but two Northern Irish artists: JC Stewart and Foy Vance.

JC Stewart was the support on their comeback concert last year in London. This time, the young man comes with a band and fully produced songs. Starting off with a folky song playing the acoustic guitar and then moving on to the electric guitar and piano and finally singing to some modern pop beats JC went through the 15 years evolution of a musician in a half an hour set.

The stage was all set for both support acts with all the gear for JC Stewart on the right, which only had to be taken away and Foy Vance was ready to go on the left side. The old Snow Patrol friend brought just a drummer with him. One that does great backing vocals. Just as JC, Foy is a great singer (plus extra experience). Foy played some folk and blues songs on his acoustic guitar with some funky effects and on a keyboard along with drums. Nothing else was needed. Foy tried to get the audience to sing as much as posible.

And so very efficiently and fast everything was ready for Snow Patrol. As lights went off an instrumental intro started to play and a big LED screen was revealed with a snowflake and a greeting: Hello Zurich.

Snow Patrol is far from perfect and that is one of the reasons I love them. You can see Gary smiling the whole concert as he truly enjoys playing his songs and Nathan (lead guitar) hits wrong notes sometimes on the climax of songs when he moves too much. But there are actual struggles, like with Gary’s inability to learn lyrics. Take Back The City was the show opener and Gary’s teleprompter was not working, which had him really stressed out for the first seconds of the song. Johnny (guitar and keys) reached out to tell him something. Probably the lyrics and so Gary started singing after missing the first lines. He managed to sing until the second verse but he walked around the stage with a look of frustration and his hand on his head. When the problem got solved his face changed and he just gave in to the music.

The light show is very good. I would personally say that they had a more astonishing show on their previous tour in terms of visuals for each song but this time they use more modern technology and a lot of cameras so that people get to see the band on the big screen with cool effects. The stage is like a cube with two frames: one on the floor of the stage surrounding them and one hanging above. For certain songs, transparent curtains are drawn down on the sides or even also on the front to cover them and project videos on them whilst still being able to see the band.

To the eye, the highlights of the show are Life On Earth, with a full video playing on the back showing Earth from outer space and the old song What If This Storm Ends? with the brilliant animation of the origami stars flying around and building up galaxies. That is a true gift for fans (like myself) that missed it on tour ten years ago. The song You Could Be Happy also makes use of the curtains and was another surprise at the concert.

The rest of the setlist, which stays pretty much the same for all concerts, consisted mainly of their beloved songs from the album Eyes Open, a few of their other hits and the five new songs such as Don’t Give In and Empress.

*My little snow patrol story*

Gary is known for being incredibly kind to the fans always paying attention to what they say at the concerts, so this time I decided to try and cross something off my bucket list. I made a sign saying “can I play with you?” and got myself a spot at the front row to make sure they see it.

Four songs in, Gary spotted the sign and asked what I could play. After trying to kill two birds with one stone and play one of my old favourites (Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking), he laughed and said it had to be something on the setlist. I let him decide and he offered Run. I agreed and he said I should wait two songs. After the two songs, someone from the crew picked me up immediately. Somehow everything was prepared despite never seeing or hearing the band telling something to the crew. A guitar and monitor were waiting for me. I was on stage in no time.

So after a little failure (my first time with professional gear) we started playing Run together. I played the same part as Gary on an acoustic guitar. A smart choice as they didn’t know if I could play it right and they didn’t try to check even. It was a dream come true. People asked me afterwards if it had been arranged or rehearsed since I looked pretty confident up there. I told them it was easy since I could barely see the audience because of the spotlight being always on my face and because I was looking at my guitar not to screw it up and also at the band which smiled at me through the whole song. Hopefully it was a nice way to mix it up since they have been playing this song for quite a while at every concert. The rest of the audience cheered for this band who had made one of their fans incredibly happy.

*End of the story*

Apart from the personal meaning of that concert to me, it was indeed the best concert of them I have been at in the last six years. Their sound is incredibly good and they are back in great shape after a year of warming up. Also the organisation is brilliant. Sometimes it can feel like an eternity until the band starts playing, especially with more than one opening act, but everything is done perfectly to start enjoying of an evening of good live music as soon as you go inside the venue. And yes, they will play Chasing Cars.

#music #music blog #indie music #alternative music #gig review #Snow Patrol #Samsung Hall #Dübendorf #Zürich #CH #Switzerland #19.01.2019 #indie #alternative #find a song

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mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 7 years ago

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NOW~~G-Dragon Pt.13

Genre:Angst/SMUT Rated:NSFW Pairing: GD X Reader wordcount:3,740 Masterlist DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!

When Jiyong finally breaks our kiss, he sits on my bed and I join him.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, so I begin to feel nervous, like there is some way I should be behaving now that we are . . . more, but I have no clue what way that is.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” he asks.

“Nothing, just studying,” I say.

“Cool.” He clicks his tongue onto the roof of his mouth. He seems nervous, too, and I am glad it isn’t just me.

“Come here.” Jiyong beckons me and opens his arms.

The moment I sit on his lap, the door opens and he groans.Hyuna, Tristan, and Nate all pour in and then stare at us as I climb off Jiyong and sit on the other side of the bed.

“So are you guys like fuck buddies now?” Nate says plainly.

“No! We aren’t!” I squeak. I don’t know what I should tell them, so I just wait for Jiyong to say something. He stays quiet as Tristan and Nate begin to talk to him about the party last night.

“It seems I didn’t miss much,” Jiyong says to them, and Nate shrugs.

“Until Chaerin gave us a strip show; she got completely naked, you should have been there,” Nate replies. I cringe and look toward Hyuna, who is staring at Tristan, probably hoping he isn’t going to comment on Chaerin being naked.

Jiyong smiles. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I gasp, then try to conceal it as a cough. He did not just say that.

His face falls, seeming to understand what he just did.

Maybe this was a terrible idea; it is already sort of awkward, and now that everyone is in the room it’s magnified. Why didn’t he tell them we were dating? Are we dating? I don’t really understand, myself. I thought after his confession that we were, but we never actually said it. Maybe we don’t need to? This uncertainty is already driving me crazy; the entire time I have been with Hoseok I have never had to worry about his feelings for me. I never had to deal with ex-friends with benefits—I am the only girl Hoseok has ever kissed in his life, and honestly I like it that way. I wish Jiyong had never done anything with another girl, or at least had done things with fewer of them.

“We’re going bowling after I change. Do you want to come?” Hyuna asks and I shake my head.

“I have to catch up on my studying. I have barely gotten any done this weekend,” I tell her and look away as the memories of this weekend flood through my mind.

“You should come, it will be fun,” Jiyong says, but I shake my head. I really need to stay in, and I was sort of hoping he would stay with me. Hyuna steps into the closet and returns a few minutes later with different clothes on.

“Ready, guys? You’re sure you don’t want to come?” she asks me.

I nod. “I’m sure.”

They all get up to leave, and Jiyong gives me a wave and a small smile before exiting the room. I’m disappointed with Jiyong’s goodbye, and hope that he’d made these plans before this weekend together and the drama today.

But what did I expect? For him to rush over and kiss me, tell me he would miss me? I laugh at the thought. I don’t know if anything will even change between Jiyong and me besides us actively trying to avoid one another. I am too used to how things are with Hoseok, so I have no idea how this is going to be, and I hate not having control over every situation.

After an hour of studying and attempting to take a nap, I grab my phone to text Jiyong. Wait, I don’t even have his number. I had never thought about it before; we have never talked on the phone or texted before. We never needed to; we couldn’t stand each other. This is going to be more complicated than I thought.

I call my mother to catch up with her, and mostly to see if Hoseok has told her what happened yet. He would be arriving back home soon from the two-hour drive, and I am sure he won’t waste any time telling her everything. She answers with a simple hello, so I know she has no clue yet. I tell her about my failed attempt to get a car, and the possible internship with Vance. Of course, she reminds me that I have been at college over a month and I still haven’t found a car. I roll my eyes and let her continue to ramble on about what she has been doing the last week. My phone lights up while I am listening to her. I place her on speakerphone and read the text.

You should have come with us, with me, the message reads. My heart swells; it’s Jiyong .

Pretending to listen to my mother, I mumble “Hmm . . . oh . . .” a few times while I text him back.

You should have stayed, I send. I stare at the screen, waiting for him to reply.

I am coming to pick you up, he replies after what seems like forever.

What? No, I don’t want to go bowling, you’re already there. Just stay.

I already left. Be ready. Boy, he’s demanding, even through text messages.

My mother is still talking and I have no idea what about. I stopped listening once Jiyong texted me. “Mom, I will call you back,” I interrupt.

“Why?” she asks with surprise and disdain.

“I . . . um . . . well, I spilled coffee on my notes. I gotta go.”

I hang up and hastily go into the closet, pulling Jiyong’s pajamas off and grabbing my new jeans and a plain purple top. I brush out my hair, which looks decent considering it hasn’t been washed. I check the time and go down to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and when I return Jiyong is waiting on my bed.

“Where were you?” he asks.

“Brushing my teeth,” I tell him and put my toiletry bag away.

“Ready?” He stands up and walks toward me. I half expect him to hug me, but he doesn’t. He just moves to the door.

I nod and grab my purse and phone.

When we get to his car, he keeps the radio down as he drives. I really don’t want to go to the bowling alley. I hate bowling, but I want to spend time with him. I don’t like how codependent I already feel.

“How long do you think we will be there?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know . . . why?” He looks sideways at me.

“I don’t know . . . I don’t really care for bowling.”

“It won’t be too bad. Everyone’s there,” he assures me. I hope everyone doesn’t include part-time ho Chaerin.

“I guess,” I mumble and look out the window.

“You don’t want to go?” His voice is quiet.

“Not really, that’s why I said no the first time.” I laugh a little nonlaugh.

“Let’s go somewhere else, then?”

“Where?” I am irritated with him, but I’m not sure why.

“My house,” he suggests and I smile and nod. His smile grows, showing the dimples that I have grown so fond of. “My house it is, then.” He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. My skin warms, and I put my hand over his.

Fifteen minutes later we are pulling up to the large fraternity house. I haven’t been here since Jiyong and I fought and I walked back to the dorms. As he leads me up the stairs, none of the guys bothers to look twice at us; they must be used to seeing Jiyong bring a girl home. My stomach pings at the thought. I need to stop thinking this way, because it’s going to drive me insane and there is nothing I can do to change it.

“Here we are,” Jiyong says and unlocks his door. I follow him inside and he turns the light on, kicking his boots off his feet and onto the floor. He moves over to his bed and pats the spot next to him.

As I walk toward him, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Was Chearin there? At the bowling alley?” I look out his window as I ask him.

“Yeah, of course she was,” he answers casually. “Why?”

I sit down on the soft bed and Jiyong pulls me by my ankles closer to him. I laugh and slide closer, my back flat against the bed, putting my knees up and my feet on the other side of his legs.

“I was just wondering . . .” I tell him and he grins.

“She is always going to be around; she’s a part of our group.”

I know it’s silly of me to be this jealous of her, but she just bothers me. She acts like she likes me, when I know she doesn’t, and I know she likes Jiyong . Now that we are . . . whatever we are, I don’t want her near him.

“You aren’t like worried that I will fuck her, are you?”

I swat his arm at his use of words. I love the way dirty words sound coming off his lips, but not when she’s involved.

“No, well, I . . . maybe. I just know you have before, and I don’t want you to again,” I say. I am sure he is going to mock my jealousy, so I turn my head sideways.

His hand goes to my knee and he squeezes gently. “I wouldn’t do that . . . not now. Don’t worry about her, okay?” His words are gentle, and I believe him.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about us?” I know I should just shut my mouth, but it has been bothering me.

“I don’t know . . . I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. Besides, what we do is our business. Not theirs,” he explains. His answer is much better than what was going through my mind.

“I guess you’re right. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something?” I say and he laughs.

“Why would I possibly be embarrassed by you? Look at you.” His eyes darken and he moves his hand to my stomach. His fingers tug up my shirt and he draws circles on my bare skin with his digits. Goose bumps raise my skin and he smiles.

“I love the way your body responds to me,” he breathes. I know what is coming next, and I can’t wait.

Jiyong ’s fingers trail farther up my shirt, causing my breath to quicken. A smile creeps onto his beautiful face as he becomes aware.

“One touch and you’re already panting,” his raspy voice whispers. He leans over, moving my feet off his lap so that he can bring his mouth to my neck. His tongue makes a flat stripe down my neck and I quiver. My fingers thread into his Hair and I tug as he nips at my skin. One of his hands slides down in between my legs but I grab his wrist to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing . . . I just thought that I would do something for you this time?”

I look away, but his fingers cup my chin so I am forced to make eye contact with him. He tries to hide his smirk, but I catch him.

“And what would you like to do for me?”

“Well . . . I thought I could, you know, what you said the other day?” I don’t know why I am so shy with words when Jiyong says anything and everything he is thinking, but the words “blow job” are not in my vocabulary.

“You want to suck my cock?” he asks, clearly surprised.

I am officially horrified. Yet somehow turned on. “Um . . . yeah. I mean if you want me to?” I hope as our relationship progresses I will be able to say these things to him. I would love to be comfortable enough with Jiyong to be able to feel that sort of bravery, to tell him exactly what I want to do to him.

“Of course I want you to. I’ve wanted your lips around me since I first saw you.” I’m oddly flattered by his crude remark, but then he asks, “Are you sure, though? Have you ever . . . even seen a dick before?”

I’m sure he knows the answer to that; maybe he’s just trying to get me to say it?

“Of course I have. Not a real one, but pictures, and I once walked in on the neighbor watching a naughty movie,” I tell him and he stifles a laugh. “Stop laughing at me, Jiyong,” I warn him.

“I’m not, baby, I’m sorry. It’s just I have never met anyone who has such little experience. It’s a good thing, though, I swear. Sometimes your innocence just throws me off a bit. But with that being said, it’s a huge turn-on that I am the only one who has ever made you come, yourself included.” He doesn’t laugh this time, which makes me feel better.

“Okay . . . so let’s get started.”

He smiles and runs his thumb along my cheek. “So sassy, I like it,” he says and stands up.

“Where are you going?” I ask him and he smiles.

“Nowhere, I am just taking my pants off.”

“I wanted to do that,” I say with a pout and he chuckles and tugs his pants back up.

“Here ya go, babe.” He puts his hands on his hips.

I smile and move forward, pulling his pants down. Should I pull down his boxers, too? Jiyong takes a step back and puts his heels against his bed before sitting down. I drop to my knees in front of him and he takes a deep breath.

“Come closer, babe.”

I scoot closer and place my hands on his bent knees.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully.

I nod and he pulls me up by my elbows.

“Let’s just kiss for a minute, okay?” he suggests and pulls me on top of him.

I have to admit I’m relieved. I still want to do this, I just need a minute to process, and kissing will make me more comfortable. He kisses me, slowly at first, but within seconds the electricity builds and takes over me. I grip his arms hard under my fingertips and rock back and forth on his lap. The bulge in his thin boxers grows and I tug gently on his hair. I wish I would have worn a skirt so I could lift it up and feel him against me . . . I’m shocked by my own thoughts as I reach down and palm him through his boxers.

“Fuck, Y/N. If you keep doing that, I will come in my boxers again,” he moans and I stop, climbing off him. I move to get on my knees again.

“Take your jeans off,” he instructs, and I nod before unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs. Feeling brave, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Jiyong takes his lip between his teeth as I move back down in front of him. My fingers grip the waistband of his boxers and tug as he lifts off the bed enough for me to pull them down.

I can feel my eyes widen and hear my own gasp as Jiyong’s manhood comes into view. Wow, it’s big. Much bigger than I expected. How am I going to even get it into my mouth?

I stare for a few seconds until I reach out and touch it with my index finger. Jiyong chuckles as it moves slightly but bounces right back.

“How . . . I mean . . . what should I do first?” I stutter. I am intimidated by the size of him, but I want to do this.

“I’ll show you. Here . . . wrap your fingers like last time . . .”

My fingers go around him and I wiggle them a little. The skin covering him is much softer than I expected. I know I’m poking it and examining it like a science project, but this is so new to me, it almost feels like one.

I grip it lightly and move my hand up and down slowly. “Like this?” I ask, and Jiyong nods, his chest rising and falling.

“Now . . . just put your mouth around it. Not all of it, well, if you can . . . but just put as much as you can.”

I take a deep breath and lean down. Opening my mouth, I take him in, only about halfway. He hisses and his hands move to my shoulders. I pull back slightly and taste something salty. Is that come already? The taste goes away and I move my head up and down. Some instinct that I wasn’t aware of tells me to move my tongue up and down his shaft as I move.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, like that,” Jiyong groans and I repeat the action. His grip on my shoulders tightens, and his hips rock upward to meet my mouth. I push myself farther, taking almost all of him in, and look up at him. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head and he looks heavenly. The lean muscle underneath his tattooed skin is pulling, making the script across his ribs move slowly. I turn my focus back to sucking and move a little faster.

“Use your hand on . . . on the rest . . .” he gasps and I oblige. My hand moves up and down on the bottom of him as my mouth works the top. I suck my cheeks in and he groans again.

“Fuck . . . fuck. Y/N. I am . . . I am so close,” he says, straining. “If you don’t want it in your mouth . . . then . . . you . . . have to stop.”

I look up at him, keeping him in my mouth. I love the way he is losing control because of me.

“Shit . . . keep looking . . . at me.” His body tenses as he watches me. I bat my eyelashes, giving the full effect. Hardin curses my name repeatedly, beautifully, and I feel a slight jerk in my mouth and a warm, salty liquid shoots down my throat in short spurts. I gag and pull back. It didn’t taste as bad as I thought it would, but it definitely doesn’t taste good. His hands move from my shoulders to my cheeks.

He’s out of breath and dazed. “How . . . was it?”

I climb off my knees and sit next to him on the bed. His arms wrap around me and he lays his head on my shoulder. “I thought it was nice,” I say, and he laughs.

“Nice?”

“It was fun, sort of. To see you that way. And it didn’t taste as bad as I thought,” I confess. I should be embarrassed that I just admitted to liking it, but I’m not. “How was it for you?” I ask nervously.

“I was so very pleasantly surprised—the best head I have ever gotten.”

I blush at his words. “Sure it was.” I laugh. I appreciate him trying to make me feel better about my lack of experience.

“No, really. The way you are so . . . pure, it does something to me. And fuck, when you looked up at me—”

“Okay! Okay!” I cut him off and wave my hand at him. I don’t want to relive every detail of my first time doing this. He chuckles and gently pushes me back against the mattress.

“Now let me make you feel as good as you did me,” he growls in my ear and sucks the skin on my neck. His fingers hook into my panties and tug them down. “Do you want my finger or my tongue?” he whispers seductively.

“Both,” I answer and he smiles.

“As you wish.” He dips his head down. I whimper and tug at his hair again. I do that a lot to him, but he seems to like it. My back arches off the bed, and within minutes I’m in a completely euphoric state, calling Jiyong’s name as I come undone.

AFTER MY BREATHING SLOWS, I sit up and bring my fingers to trace the dark ink on his chest. He watches me carefully but doesn’t stop me. He stays quiet as he lies down next to me, letting me enjoy my sedated state.

“No one has ever touched me this way,” he says, and I swallow all the questions I want to ask him. Instead of interrogating him, I give him a small smile and a quick kiss on his chest.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks and I shake my head.

“I can’t; tomorrow is Monday and we have classes.” I want to stay with him but not on a Sunday.

His look is soft. “Please.”

“I don’t have any clothes to wear tomorrow.”

“Wear those; please stay with me. Just one night. I promise you will make it to your classes on time.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“I will even make sure you get there fifteen minutes early and have enough time to stop by the coffeehouse and meet Tae,” he says and my lips part.

“How do you know I do that?”

“I watch you . . . I mean not all the time. But I notice you more than you think,” he tells me and my heart swells. I’m falling for him, hard and fast.

“I’ll stay,” I tell him but hold my hand up to continue. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Come back to Literature,” I ask, and he raises his eyebrow.

“Done.”

I smile at his simple answer and he pulls me closer to his chest.

i know that’s a short edit but don’t worry i will edit another part tomorrow as well! let me know your thoughts in the ask box! do you think their relationship will last long? at least without the dramabigbang

#G Dragon #g dragon bigbang #big bang g dragon #g dragon scenarios #g dragon smut #gdragon #Gd Oppa #gdragon scenarios #t.o.p bigbang #bigbang #bigbang scenarios #bigbang scenario #Bigbang Smut #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop fandom #kwon jiyong #choi seunghyun #kpop series

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ludobitchbagman · 7 years ago

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Pinnock’s Serenity Center || drabble

WHO: Ludovic Bagman and Emmeline Vance WHEN: Future, Ludo’s late twenties. WHAT: Ludovic hits rock bottom.

@morsmordre-rp

BEGINNING

Ludovic couldn’t remember the moment that he stopped drinking to have a good time and when he started drinking just to make it through the day without wanting to rip his face off.

The pitched roof diner sat just along the very outskirts of Diagon Alley. The booths are cracked and creaking and some of the tables wobble obnoxiously when knocked by a weary elbow or a restless knee, but the floors are clean and the food is incredible. A neatly cast spell could often fix the most uneven of tables. A man named Jim works in the kitchen with his cousin Sandra, and her daughter, Amy, takes care of the customers. Jim’s son does the bookkeeping even though he has a full time job at some muggle accounting firm and his brother takes care of any plumbing issues and Ludovic knows all of this because he asks.

Ludovic found the diner on his first outing away from the center. A member of the support staff had been required to accompany him and he’d been allowed exactly one hour outside of the facility. They’d floo’d together to Diagon Alley and Ludo spent twenty minutes wandering aimlessly around when he’d caught sight of the diner. This only left him with forty minutes to order something and eat before he had to pay and floo back before the clock ticked over on his curfew. – Actually, his support staff paid for his coffee and buttered toast, since part of the program had been the voluntary restriction of his money. His galleons weren’t the only things he had surrendered when he checked into the program. But 20 minutes of hot, fluffy eggs, perfectly cooked bacon, steaming coffee, and a sweet smile from Amy had been all he needed from the diner. His booth was everything he needed in that moment.

Find a place to center yourself.

It’s the kind of place where men and women, hunched from hours and hours of late night work turn in unison when the front door opens and someone walks in.

Ludovic watches, breath caught somewhere between his voice and his heart, as Emmeline finally finds where he’s seated in his worn booth, hands wrapped tightly around a mug of coffee. He can’t tell if if the look on Emmeline’s face as she steps around the old man with a cane who has a tendency to block the aisle is one of relief or apprehension at the sight of Ludo. It feels like she’s looking at him the way people in the great tales look at returning soldiers.

There is hope there, but apprehension too, in the tightness of her mouth even though she is trying to smile in greeting. It’s there in the shaded look of her eyes as her gaze flickers all over Ludo’s face. And it’s there in the slightly stiff way she sits down in the old chair across from Ludo. It’s the same feeling, churning and rolling in Ludo’s gut, making the back of his tongue sour and his lips bitter and cold.

The question is there, even if Ludo doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Who is this woman now? Who is she to me? And who am I to her and who are we to each other?

“Hi,” Ludo starts, as he must begin all things in this; tentatively, carefully, fingers pressing lightly to the wound still cut between them. Time is not the same as healing, nor is it the same as forgiveness.

“Hey.” Emmeline responds, and Ludo knows she too is pushing and testing, seeing how deep the gulf is between them before she steps over the edge.

“Thank you for coming.”

Before Emmeline can respond, Amy skips over with a bright smile and menu charmed to highlight the day’s specials on the front.

“Hi there!” She chirps and Ludo can see in her eyes that she is completely aware of the tension between himself and Em. “Can I get you something to drink?” Her voice asks Em, but her eyes are on Ludo, asking who this strange new person is.

“Uhm, pumpkin juice please.” Em tries to smile back at her, but Ludo can see the broken edges of her lips.

“Orange juice coming right up! And let me just say, before you spend too long with our menu, that our blueberry pancakes are to die for. Jim adds vanilla and lemon to the mix. But don’t tell them,” She motions to a cluster of old looking wizards, “They think we add some special potion to it.” Amy winks conspiratorially at Emmeline before flitting off with a promise to bring more sugar for Ludo’s coffee.

Ludo watches at Em takes another breath to calm herself.

It will be hard for others. Give them the same time they’ve given you.

There’s a smudge next to her eyes and her hair looks like she had to have spent two hours running her hands through it. He catches the way that Emmeline’s eyes keep coming back to Luo’s hand, to the band that encircles his finger.

“Uhm, I guess I’m surprised that you owled.” Em says, shifting her gaze to the menu that he knows by heart.

He swallows. He’s practiced what he thinks he wants to say a thousand times since he made the decision to reach out to Emmeline, but the reality of her before him —- the notch of her throat or the fullness of her lips. —- isn’t even remotely the same as Ludo’s own reflection staring back at him in the mirror every morning.

Ludovic reaches for his chest, where a wooden, blue-painted Beater’s Bat hangs from a simple chain around his neck.

“Yeah, I– it was time.” The smooth wood of the bat is warm and comforting. Familiar.

“Time for what?”

Ludo waits a moment before he starts talking again. “It’s been a year.”

Emmeline frowns in confusion and Ludovic can see her doing the math in her head, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. Ludo counts back the time that’s passed since they last saw each other. He can think now about that night without the yearning for the burn of firewhiskey or the subtler feeling of the strange potions he’d once picked up in Knockturn Alley.

“It’s been a year since I got sober.” Ludo clarifies. He doesn’t try to hide the pride in his voice. It’s his greatest accomplishment. Even more than becoming a Quidditch player.

Emmeline sucks in a breath and surprise flashes across her face. “Oh, that’s… I’m– I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Emmeline looks up at him. Everything goes quiet around Ludo at the look in her eyes. It’s the look of a woman remembering.

Ludovic did not like the quiet. He had spent three night at Pinnock’s Serenity Center unable to sleep because of the quiet. The bed was huge the pillows were firm. The sheets probably cost more money than the ones he had on his own bed, and that was saying a lot. But the room was quiet, too quiet. The whole center, just the same. Quiet enough for the wracking guilt in his own heart to beat out loud through the stillness, echoing off the painted walls and ricocheting through his brain. Not the shaking that started in his hands, the sweat that dripped down his back, or the aching rawness in his throat as he vomited again and again were as bad as the awful, killing quiet.

Silence is not the worst sound you could hear.

“So what are you going to do now?” Emmeline asks and Ludovic takes the kind of soul deep breath that he spent 90 days learning and nine months perfecting.

RECOGNITION

One moment among thousands shouldn’t have tipped the balance in his life, but it was never really just the one thing.

On most days, Ludovic took a full shot of his favorite muggle bourbon before entering the shower. Then another, before he got dressed, standing in his bedroom in an old tower, dripping water on the carpet and staring at his reflection in the mirror as he lifted the glass to his lips. He would pour a third after he was dressed before heading to work.

By the time he arrived at the stadium, he was loose enough to ignore how tight his chest felt between the practice jersey he wore every morning. The jagged version of relaxed he felt with the bourbon thinned his blood and blurred the line of how awful it was, how awful it had become when he wasn’t paying attention. The buzz let him smile without the strain he normally felt and let him talk about the things he cared nothing about.

One more drink shouldn’t have begun the end, but the way things should be and the way they are so rarely ever matched up. Ludovic knew this, an yet knowledge and understanding are not the same when the world operates on a different watch.

It falls so easily into a pattern, the way most destructive things do. This pattern had been borne more than a decade ago– long black threads of temptation winding tight around wrists and throats, until the ties are twice knotted and Ludovic forgets how to untie them.

It’s not that he doesn’t know it’s happening. A bottle of wine can not drink itself and a handful of pills are useless if he doesn’t lift them to his mouth. The pieces of Ludovic are fracturing, shattering, and he forgets how to care.

The end comes as it must.

The taut thread snapped at the knot under the last pound of pressure. The dam bursts and lets water push free of the trapped and urgent sea. Like a blast of fire from a warrior’s wand.

Some things are metaphors because they are true,

Ludovic is alone.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Is what Emmeline says when they are out together.

But “I’m scared.” is what she means. Ludovic hears both and listens to neither and Emmeline will not say it again.

Emmeline does not say anything when Ludo comes home at four in the morning with salt and bitters down the front of his shirt and vomit on his shoes. She peels the shirt off with a tenderness Ludo surely does not deserve and throws it out with the shoes. New clothing can always be bought. He lets her guide him into te shower and turn on the water just shy of too hot and he stays there when she climbs in after him.

Emmeline does not say anything when Emma Vanity brings Ludovic home in the dark of night because he couldn’t even apparate. But secrets never stay kept for long an Ludo’s reputation is already hanging on the ragged edge of a cliff. He’s been spotted too many times in too many weeks with a drink in hand and no life in his eyes,

And people talk. The tabloids talk. He’s heard it. She’s heard it. They all have. But a rumor is only a rumor if it is not acknowledged.

Emmeline leaves him on the sofa for the rest of the night and the coffee she brings him in the harsh light of the morning shouldn’t taste like anger, but it does. But he can only mumble broken apologies against her lips, wrists, and the insides of her thighs.

And Em does not say anything when they’re accosted by reporters, asking if Ludo’s family and friends were worried about his drinking and if he were thinking about getting help. Emmeline holds the truth of the worl close to her; this he knows the most.

It wears on her, he knows. He can see it in her eyes ever day that she’s tired of him coming home smelling like liquor and terrible memories. He feels it in the way that she touches him, like she’s unsure of who’s body she’s in. He knows that she can only take so much before she breaks. There’s only so much he can ask her to deal with before a ring and Ludovic’s most sacred promises lose all meaning.

And the end must come. Not with a bang, not with a whisper, but with a sudden fall.

Ludovic doesn’t remember the party and he doesn’t remember getting home and he does not remember the edge of the rug he tripped on. But he comes to an uneasy consciousness lying on the living room floor with blood pouring from his chin. Emmeline comes running down the staircase with her wand in her hand and Ludo realizes he must have made quite the noise when he hits the floor.

Emmeline drops to her knees as Ludo struggles to get up. His head swims and his face throbs. He’s half a step from throwing up.

“I think I fell.” He says dumbly. He tries to touch his chin, where he’s sure he’s cut, but Emmeline catches his wrist and keeps his fingers away.

“Don’t.” She snaps. Her voice has gone hard and ragged, “Don’t touch it.”

He tried to focus his blurred vision on her face. He must have woken her up because her hair is flat on one side and she’s not wearing any pants. He follows her gaze to the bottle of Ogden’s Old resting on the table and he doesn’t remember putting that there.

He starts to apologize, but her face goes shuttered and cold and she drops his hand.

“Don’t.” She repeats. Tension, anger, and… fear, maybe(?) hold her back straight and her shoulders taut and Ludovic is still with it enough to hate that he’s caused this. Again. He hates himself a little in that instant.

He stays quiet and she heals the cut on his chin as best as she can, dabbing around the wound with as gentle a touch she can muster. But Ludo can see the stress and strain building and building in her limbs, in the tight press of her lips and he knows it’s only a moment before it all snaps. As it must.

“How the fuck did you let it come to this?” She suddenly bites out. “Why didn’t you ask for help before it got this bad?” And then she is crying, standing up and turning away to try and hide it.

Ludo swallows heavily and does not know how to answer the very question he’d asked himself for months. Probably longer.

He supposed he figured it would just eventually all go away, that the reasons for it would just disappear as he got older, that he’d be able to set aside his shot glasses one day in exchange for dead obligations and adult responsibilities. It’s what Otto had done. But it doesn’t happen like that. A switch is never thrown and his life never suddenly rights itself.

And he wants to know why Emmeline herself didn’t try to help him sooner. Had she, and he had just chosen to ignore her? The time has passed on that question. Perhaps one day he could get an answer.

He pushes himself to his feet, swaying on unsteady legs, but locking his knees to keep himself in place. He feels like he hasn’t been standing on solid ground for a long time, so what’s one more night?

“Babe,” Ludo prompts. Trepidation is building in his gut, worry of what she would say to him. What is going to happen? When he looks back on it, he will know that this moment had been coming for longer than he cared to think about. The inevitability does not make it easier.

She turns around to him and her cheeks are red and blotchy with anger and streaked wet with tears. There’s snot under her nose and her eyelashes are clumped together. This is his fault too.

Emmeline flicks her wand, swift and confusing, and suddenly the half-empty bottle of Ogden’s Old smashes against the wall in a bright burst of sound and a shower of glass. Whiskey streaks down, bleeding out amber liquid to the floor.

“You’re a fucking mess,” her voice is more harsh than anything he had ever hear about himself. “Look at you.”

Ludo doesn’t need a mirror to know how awful he looks, “I’m–”

“Don’t you dare fucking say you’re sorry.” Emmeline shouts. The sound echoes through the quiet house they made for themselves. “Not now. How am I supposed to believe a fucking word that comes out of your mouth when you’re like this? How can I believe anything you’ve said this whole time?”

Ludovic holds his hand out, supplicating. “Look, I love you. Nothing about that has changed, okay?” It might be the only truth he knows anymore.

Emmeline sneers and the expression is so ugly on her face that he flinches. “Hasn’t it?

And that too is his heart disintegrating.

“I can’t do this, Ludo. I can’t.” Em shakes her head and takes a step back, folding her around herself. He is suddenly so vulnerable in his own house and Ludo feels acutely every inch of distance between them. “Not anymore. I can’t watch you…you killing yourself like this. I can’t be with you if this is what you’re going to do to yourself. – You know why.”

“I can fix this,” He stutters. He starts to take a step forward but Emmeline shifts away again, away from him, and that is as clear as anything.

“I don’t think you can.”

Ludovic watches as she takes her ring off – the ring he gave to her with the only promise that’s ever really mattered, I do – yanking it off her trembling finger and setting it down on the coffee table. He cannot take his eyes away from it.

“I need you to get help,” She says. “Because I can’t do it for you.”

He knows this is it, the thing he’s been ignoring with every drink after the first.

“You need to go, okay?” Her voice is wet and he still cannot stop staring at the band of silver that should be on her finger. “You need to go,” She repeats, and then she’s turning on her heel and disappearing back upstairs.

Ludovic breathes until he’s sure he will not faint. The last recognizable piece of his life is gone and there is no replacing it. His mouth tastes like regret.

The end comes and Ludovic knows then he has to find a new beginning.

RECOVERY

The Pinnock’s Serenity Center was named after the creator of one the Wizarding World’s favorite brands of whiskey. Apparently, he’d started this place after falling into alcoholism himself. Fitting.

When he steps out of the car at the front entrance, the smell of forest – of trees and wet earth – hits him hard.

The center looks like a working ranch, with a stable and horses and squat, painted workshops for its residents. He swears he can hear the grind of a saw over the whinnying of a horse. It’s almost unreal. Was this not a wizarding recovery center? Had his mother made a mistake and brought him to a muggle rehab?

He’s pushed from his thoughts by a hand on his upper back, gently nudging him towards the doors of the main building.

It’s cold inside, pushing out the heat from the outside air the way the facility itself was supposed to push the darkness from those who willingly stepped through the doors. There is a wizard behind the counter wearing bright, yellow robes. Huh. It really was a magical place, then. He didn’t know what to make of this. The main smiles welcomingly at Ludo, who cannot find it in himself to smile back. Not yet. The man does not seem to take offense and Ludo supposes that because he is calm, he’s probably not the worst patient to approach the counter.

“Mr. Bagman! Welcome.” the man says and Ludo can only nod.

His mom is there, his dad and Otto too, handing over his keys and his wand even though Ludo is signing himself in voluntarily. Everything about this place is voluntary– that was bolded and underlined in the brochures. The point is not that the is forced to be there, that his friends and loved ones have kicked him out and dropped him off on the doorstep alone and shivering. Ludo is the one who said yes, who told his parents to find a place and asked for a ride there.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Bagman, I’ll take you to your recovery coordinator.”

He nods. This is it. His mother hugs him and his dad hugs him even tighter, and if it were possible, Otto even tighter than that. He makes them go before he starts bawling like a helpless child in front of the other residents, though he’s sure he wouldn’t be the first. He watches his parents shuffle away, on either side of his brother, and Ludo feels every bitter ounce of shame for all that he’s put them through.

With a final wave through the window, the car drives off, sending up a cloud of dust from its tires, and that is that.

Margie is his recovery coordinator. She has short hair and kind eyes and doesn’t recoil from the fetid stench of stale alcohol that comes with his every breath. He can’t help but wonder how much worse she’s seen.

He sits in her office with his luggage at his feet and his hands in his lap. His fingers are trembling slightly and he doesn’t know if it’s nerves or something else that keeps him from sitting still.

“You’ll be here for as long as you need,” Margie is saying and Ludo likes the cadence of her voice. “There is no time limit on your recovery. If you feel like you’d like to check out after a few days, that’s your decision to make, and if you want to stay for several months, that’s up to you. I’ll be working with you to come to those decisions.” His eyes narrow in on the edges of tattoo peeking out below her shirtsleeve.

“What if I never want to leave?” He asks, only partially joking. He’s been at Pinnock’s for all of 20 minutes and he already feels more at ease than he has in the last several years. Notwithstanding the moments of clarity and calm he had with Emmeline and Quidditch, but he managed to fuck that up too. He knows that feeling is going to bleed away as he pisses and vomits the years of liquor and drugs burning through his system over the next few days, but for now, he holds onto that bird-wing feeling that flutters in his chest a little like hope.

Margie smiles understandingly at him and he’s grateful he doesn’t sense any pity from her. “Ludovic, if I do my job right, and you do yours, you’re going to want to leave.”

He nods and tries not to think about how long that might be. The brochure told him that every day at the facility mattered to his recovery, even if all he did was get out of bed. Ludo wants to promise that he’s going to do more than get out of bed, but his track record with promises hasn’t been the best lately.

“Someone is always going to be here for you,” Margie tells him after explaining how going through withdrawal would be like living hell. Surely she was seeing the wide-eyed panic that set across his face. “We are moments away if you need anything, even if all you need is someone to sit with you, or hold your hand. Don’t be embarrassed to ask. It’s why we’re here.”

Ludo knows the hand he wants is no longer his to hold, and hasn’t been for more months than he cares to think about. He can taste the desire for a drink in the back of his throat and he swallows it down. At least he’s already admitted he has a problem; admitting he needs a friendly face while he puking his guts out won’t take much more than another piece of his pride. And it’s not like there’s much left of that anyway.

“And I’d like for you to take off the ring,” Margie says and her words don’t make any sense at all.

“What?”

“Your ring.” She looks pointedly down at the band encircling Ludo’s finger, the very thing that’s been keeping him anchored to everything else in the world. “I’d like for you to take it off. For now,” she amends.

“No.” The word is instinctual, as natural as its opposite was when he first slid the ring on.

“Ludovic.” Margie doesn’t speak to him like a child or a prisoner, but he still feels guilty for defying her already.

“It’s not just a ring,” he says and he closes his other hand around his fingers protectively.

“I understand that.”

The threads that bind him to Emmeline are fastened to the ring, even if she no longer wears hers. “It’s all I have left.”

Margie’s face softens into something that somehow reminds him of Professor Sprout. “I promise you it’s not.”

A promise gave him the ring and promise looks to take it away and Ludo is pretty sure a promise doesn’t mean much at all when it’s drowning in whiskey and weed.

“Do I have to?”

Margie shakes her head and does not hold her hand out for it. “Everything here is done voluntarily—- except giving up your wand, you know that. But the more you put into the program, the more you take with you when it’s time for you to leave. This is something I’m asking you to try.”

“Will I get it back?” He asks.

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Well,” Margie leans forward slightly. “That depends entirely on you.”

Ludo bites down on his lip as he slowly twists the ring around and around until it slides up over the swell of his knuckle. It’s the last tie he has. He’s unknotting the ropes from the anchor and letting himself drift free.

“Don’t lose it,” he whispers, knowing how bent and broken his voice sounds, and knowing he’s saying it himself as much as Marcie. The ring is his half of the easiest promise he ever made and he gave that away too.

He spends the first night on the bathroom floor, curled around the toilet and shaking himself out of his skin. His stomach feels like a nest of vipers and every time he vomits – hardly more than a thin stream by the end – it’s venom lacing up his raw throat. Not even the Potions given to him by the nurses helped.

Margie’s voice rattles around his pounding head: “It will be different for everyone.”

Ludo doesn’t know how else this could go. His body aches, down to his bones and beyond. It’s a hurt he fears will never go away. Sweat pools under his arms and shines on his face and he knows he reeks of 40-year-old wine and 2 sickle beers. He would crawl into the shower, but he can’t, and he worries he might drown if he tried anyway. He remembers Marlene showing him an article back in school, about the strangest ways people can die and how little water is takes to actually kill you – once it gets in your lungs where it doesn’t belong and it can’t get out. They sat together on the grounds, wrapped up in a blanket with a bowl of weed between them and blowing smoke into each other’s faces with no care about anything at all.

Ludo closes his eyes and cries over all of the wonderful things he had for a little while.

There’s no mail and no access to the Prophet at Pinnock’s. When he emerges from his hours of shaking and sweating and vomiting, he spends five short minutes balking at the lack of connectivity. He was so used to having so much at his fingertips at all times that the sudden, absolute silence is a visceral shock to him. He knows he must have hundreds of letters from a hundred different people. His boss. His agent. His fans. His friends. The people who think they’re his friends. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, leaving it up to his parents to decide who needed to know, who had the right to find out.

He feels cut off from the world he once knew, and the world he lost sight of. But that’s the point. The facility is practically an island, but Ludovic remembers that he marooned himself here for a reason. And part of that reason is the woman back home with a cat, a dog, and a ring she might very well have thrown away.

He knows that soon enough he’ll earn the privilege of being able to leave the facility for brief periods of time – just an hour – to go wherever he wants, as long as he comes back. He supposes he could find a newspaper if he wanted to, read about his old life and find out what kind of avalanche is waiting for him. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to chance it, knowing how easily it would be to get caught up in the demands of the world he once knew, the demands on his body and his time, his very soul and sanity, and get swept away again.

He can’t risk that, not knowing what might be his again if he makes it through this.

Instead, he writes Emmeline a dozen letters he never sends and he doesn’t leave even through the door is always open.

Ludovic keeps away from the other residents of Serenity for the first couple of weeks. He doesn’t do it because he’s anti-social all of a sudden. It’s partly because for the first week he’s in the program he’s too sick and too weak to do anything but linger in his room and curse what’s become of his mad and broken existence. But he can’t deny that it’s also partly because he’s wretchedly nervous about even more people seeing him, recognizing him, and knowing what’s become of him. Pride is the hardest of things to let go of.

As though the exact same fate hasn’t befallen the rest of them. Margie tells him often that acknowledging the others in his self-same situation helps him acknowledge himself. That he needs more than the mirror to see his reflection.

But he does make something like friends during his stay.

There’s the fellow who spends most of his days out at the stables with the horses. It’s hard to hold onto ego and conceit when you’ve vomited in front of someone and everyone else knows exactly why you’re there. Ludo watches the man canter around and around the field, body loose and relaxed in the saddle in a way it’s not at meal times and Ludo knows that at least this man has found the means to help him finally get past the dark and wild thing haunting him. He wonders what it will be for him.

There’s a women who checks in about two weeks after Ludo. Her hair is falling out and she hands over a bottle of pills at the counter. She catches Ludo’s eye across the lobby and he knows she’s embarrassed by his gaze, he can tell by the subtle tensing of her thin shoulders and the way she seems to want to turn away from him.

But there is too a look of relief on her face that he doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s that she’s glad to see that proof that anyone can be brought low by addiction. Anyone at all. Even famous Ludovic Bagman.

He smiles gently at her and lifts his hand in greeting.

Her name is Jackie and they have dinner together the first night of her stay. They don’t talk much, over the weeks, but he learns how to play chess and he teaches her all about the different rules of Quidditch, using a magazine for reference. It’s the most he can do with flying and even that is almost too much. The weight of the magazine in his hand, the smooth fee; of the paper against his palms sends a wash of panic sweating down his back. He doesn’t pick up the magazine again.

He remembers playing games with whiskey and gin hot in his veins and he thinks about the practices he doesn’t remember at all. He remembers the celebratory drinks at bars he never had to pay for, how two become three became more, and how the burn of it all made it feel all right.

It will not be Quidditch that sees him through his time at Serenity, and Ludo has to accept it.

30.

When the calendar turns on the first thirty days of Ludo’s treatment, Margie sits him down in her office and asks him if he wants to leave.

Ludo looks away from Margie’s kind eyes and down at his hands, lying steady in his lap.

He stays.

Woodshop is listed in the brochure as one of the activities offered by the program and he signs up for it, because why the fuck not.

The master craftsman employed by Pinnock’s is a woman named Betsy. She has grey hair and thick forearms and her eyes are always smiling. She was also extremely old.

“Let me see your hands,” she says by way of greeting, reaching for Ludovic before he has time to respond or even introduce himself properly.

Her own fingers are calloused and scarred and her grip is firm around his wrists as she holds his hands up for examination.

“Athlete,” Beth decides.

He forces himself to nod. “Yeah. Quidditch.”

Her eyes are very keen. “We have a Pitch.”

“I know.” His fingers curve slightly, as though seeking the neck of a broom or bat.

All those simple pleasures that, in the end, weren’t so simple after all.

Ludovic spends the first session just learning about the different pieces of equipment in the shop. His father wasn’t that big of a handyman while he was growing up and it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford to just call someone when something needed fixing, if he didn’t know how to fix it magically. He pushes away the feeling that tells him to just jump right into it; the workshop isn’t a game and the machines aren’t opponents. He can’t just pick them up and play them by heart.

Betsy has projects for him to do, once they’re both reasonably certain he’s not going to immediately injure himself. There are many hours in a day and plenty of things to do, once he’s able. He helps fix the windowpane in one of the other resident’s rooms, broken by chair thrown in an understandable rage. And he assists as Betsy repairs a section of the fence near the stables and lets one of the horses eat a cube of sugar out of his palm. He does all of this without his wand. It’s a strange, new experience for him.

He likes the focus it takes to run the saws. His fingers come so close to the blade and he knows, he knows how one little slip could so easily end any hope he has of swinging a bat ever again. Or the guitar. Or the marimba of Emmeline’s ribs. The cold burn of gin and vodka took his concentration away, his focus, his drive and replaced it with an echoing, sloshing emptiness that only felt like satiation and needed constant replenishing. With that gone, with the barley and hops sweated from his blood, Ludo lets the rich scent of cut wood and the sharp grating of metal sheering through pine and oak fill him instead. It helps.

And then Betsy tells him to make something for himself. He freezes, unsure of what there is left for him to want for himself alone. He cannot carve himself a new life from the dead trunk of a tree and he cannot rebuild the links between him and Emmeline with a hammer and a fistful of nails.

But Ludovic finds a scrap of wood on the floor, shaved off from a larger piece from some other finished project and not yet swept away. And he thinks there is something that he still wants to try, has to attempt.

It takes him longer than it should to shape and smooth the ragged scrap of leftover pine into the rough shape he desires. But even the sight of the curved edges, so familiar with their degree of arc, puts a smile on his face as he shakes the tension out of his hands.

“They don’t give you sober chips here,” Ludovic says, holding up the crude wooden broom to examine it.

“We think the best of you come up with your own reminders,” Betsy responds, settling a warm hand on Ludo’s shoulder and that also feels like a benediction. “It’s perfect,” she continues. “And the next one will be better.”

60.

When the next thirty days expire, Margie takes Ludovic out to the diner on the edge of Diagon Alley.

Amy chirps a hello at them both and leads them over to the same booth Ludo sat in the last time he was there and the time before that. She brings herbal tea for Margie and a coffee for Ludo before either of them can even ask for it. He thinks they they’ve become regulars at this little diner and he likes it. It makes him feel like he belongs somewhere.

Margie asks him again if he wants to leave. It’s been two months since his parents dropped him off and checked him in and Ludo sits back and thinks about it. About returning to his team and that life and those weary ties. About all the things that are waiting for him, held back by the doors and walls of the facility and miles of vast forest that surrounds it. He thinks about Emmeline, who must still be there in that vast sprawl that calls itself a city, living her life without him.

And the taste is there again, the burn of whiskey and sour, heavy on his tongue and awful in his stomach.

He says no, he’ll stay. A little longer, anyway.

Margie nods like she knew the answer before they got into the car and reaches into her pocket to withdraw a gleaming silver band. Ludo swallows heavily, swallows down the old bitter aftertaste as he takes the ring from her with hands that are trembling for reasons completely unrelated to detox. He doesn’t look to her for reassurance before putting it back on. The ring slips onto his finger like it never left and he wonders for the first time in longer than the cares to think about if maybe, just maybe, not everything is broken beyond repair, shattered in pieces on the floor.

And he wonders, vaguely, if Emmeline, wherever she is, feels the weight of the band echoed against the naked skin of her own finger where her ring should be.

Ludovic and Margie stay in the booth long past the hour curfew and he cannot stop playing with the ring that is settled back into place where it belongs.

90.

His parents come to pick him up. His mom cries and his brother tells him that he looks good. And when he says it, he means it and Ludo already knows it’s true. The mirror told him the circles under his eyes were gone and the hollowness in his head had faded almost into nothingness.

After the discharge paperwork is signed and the payments are made, Ludo hugs Margie for long minutes and doesn’t even try to pretend like he’s not crying too. She rubs his back and tells him to keep in touch. He knows he will.

He goes home with his parents and spends a month living out of his old bedroom. He gets up every morning at 7am because that was wake up at the treatment facility and the routine eases the transition back to “normal” life.

It will feel different. Different is good.

He cooks his mom breakfast and pours his dad coffee and no one reads the paper at the table. He fills the weeks fixing little things around the house, things that they normally would have hired someone else to take care of, but never got around to bothering with. He uses magic now, though. It makes it easier. There’s a loose tile in the bathroom that Ludo re-affixes and a window blind in his dad’s study that he replaces. The gutters need cleaning out and the flower beds weeded and he doesn’t need any one at all to explain to him what a metaphor is. He gets it.

When the thirtieth day of his stay at his parents’ home dawns, cool and misty and quiet, Ludovic scrounges up an old piece of wood left over in the garage from Merlin knows when and makes for himself another little broomstick using tools he didn’t even know that his dad had. This one has a tiny whorl in the handle and it reminds him of an eye. He rubs his thumb over it, feeling the grain of the wood, and feels more like himself than he has in a year.

The night, after dinner, as Ludo is hand washing the dishes even though he has a perfectly find wand, his mom sets his house keys down on the counter.

“Go home,” she tells him, not unkindly. Her eyes are smiling and so is her mouth.

He takes a slow breath and lets it out. Hope rises, clean and cool like water. “Yeah?”

She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Go home.”

His heart stutters, because home is Emmeline’s house, their bed with the sheets they picked out together when he wouldn’t stop making fun of everything in the house being blue. Home is Emmeline smiling at his attempts to to recreate his best moves from the last match and the light in her eyes when she agreed to become his wife. She wouldn’t be there anymore.

So what is home now?

He throws his clothes back into his bags and gets into the fireplace. All he can do is find out.

RENEWAL

At the diner in his favorite booth, Ludo curves his hands around the mug of tea. “So…I went home.” It feels like a strange and unsatisfying end to his tale, but it’s the best kind of ending he could imagine. The second best, that is.

She nods. She looks like she’s struggling to take it all in. He understands “And you stayed there…nine months?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. I had to put my life back together. I sort of fucked it up completely.” He thinks he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, the part where she gets mad at him for taking that time for himself, for not getting in touch with her until now. But she just nods again, like she understands, or at least is beginning to. “I needed to figure out what was left that I could put back together.”

Emmeline takes a sip of her juice that must be warm and he knows she does it to give her a spare two seconds to figure out what to say. “So, it doesn’t sound like you had, uhm, the 12-step program thing.”

“I was told to make the program into something that worked for me,” Ludovic says, remembering Margie’s words from the very first day. “So I gave myself three steps instead.” He holds up three fingers and does not miss the way her gaze flickers to the ring around one of them. “Three seemed more doable than twelve, anyway.“

“Yeah?”

“Myself. My family.” He pauses and reminds himself to breathe. “And you.” He does not want for a drink in that moment, does not need anything but the hope that flashes brilliantly in Emmeline’s eyes. It’s a fragile thing, hope, and Ludovic has destroyed it before. But this time, this time he knows he’s a better man, and he has better hands to hold it.

“And this is step three,” She says, her voice gone a little faint. Her hands are clasping her glass so tightly her knuckles are white and he wants so badly to take her hand.

“Well, I hope so.”

“Ludo..” She says his name like it’s a warning, a warning to himself that going any farther than this means turning the corner and pushing towards a new them.

“You can say it,” He interrupts. “You can tell it straight to my face. I deserve every fucking word you’ve got for me. I’ve heard it from my family already. I made the last years fucking hell for you. For a lot of people. I was embarrassing. I was awful. I was completely shit-faced and fucked up. I know that. There’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t told myself, but if you need to say it, I want you to. I’m not going to give you some big changed man speech because I’m not. I’m still me, but I know I’m a better me than I was. Tell me what you need to tell me.”

And it’s its own kind of benediction to say it out loud, to tell the woman he vowed to spend his life with that the past is a different country and the future is the thing he’s holding on to.

“I should have helped you,” is what she says instead and that too is another piece of him locking back into place.

“Em, it’s not your–” And this is a conversation that will take another year to have, but the fact that they’re starting it means everything.

She cuts him off, reaching across the table to rest her hand on his arm. He shocks at the long-missed touch and tears of a whole other kind gather behind his eyes. “Don’t try and brush aside my part in this. I fucked up too. But we can talk about that later.”

She is staring right at him and he does not blink.

She reaches into the front of her shirt and withdraws a chain, which has a well-known ring hanging from it. Her wedding ring.

He chokes on a soft, unexpected sob and does not bother to stop the tears that begin to leak down his face. His every nightmare during his time at Pinnock’s has not come true. There is hope and then there is this. And this is more than he dared to let himself dream. Until now.

“You kept it,” he says with wonder.

“Of course I kept it,” She responds, smiling at him as her thumb traces the shape of the ring. “I’ll always keep it.”

And Ludo cannot help but wonder if she will ever wear it again, if her finger will remember the weight of the band and the promise behind it, but it’s not quite the time to ask. The repairs are being made, the threads between them retied with every passing moment they spend together.

But it is there, the tapestry of their life that he’d once thought he’d burned to ash, rewoven before his very eyes. Thread by thread. Step by step.

He rests his hand on top of hers and cannot stop smiling.

#THIS BITCH IS LONG AF #i been working on for like a week n finally finished it #hope u all enjoy #morsmordre points #drabble

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infinitehours · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

This fic is based off of The Haunted Mansion “Story and Song from the Haunted Mansion” audio. It will also be based deeply off of my first impressions of the ride itself when I was a kid going on it those first few times in my life.

Also, if you’re wondering why there isn’t much description on our two main mortals, it’s because I felt it best to leave that up to the imagination (there was never much description in the original either). I know I can’t get away without descriptives for every character though, so I’m not going to try for that, but hopefully it wasn’t too jarring.

~~~

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

Other Author notes: There’s supposed to be an audio of the Big Ben chime (to parallel the demonic clock and represent that this is the realm of mortals), but I can’t currently find a way to create this audio file. So. Imagination I guess.

Someone created a recording of the Big Ben clock from Parliament Square. Cars and all, it definitely sounds like a city. I will link it here in case you all want to hear it and use it to help your imagination, but it was NOT made by me, and as such it is NOT officially part of this story:

https://freesound.org/people/Noise%20Cuisine/sounds/47098/

___

Table of Contents Link

~~~

Ch 1: Miss Jackson

Have you ever seen a haunted house? You know the kind I mean. That old dark house that’s usually at the end of a dimly lit street. The windows are broken and boarded, and the shutters hang loose on their hinges. The trees have grown wild, their branches brush against the sides of the weathering house making strange noises in the night. There’s a high vine-covered fence around the property. Is it there to keep somebody out, or is it there to keep something inside? It’s a house that people avoid walking past at night. Strange sounds come from within the walls, and it’s said that eerie lights have been seen both in the attic window and in the graveyard at the side of the house.

Seen, at least….by some….

Our story revolves around this mysterious mansion….

But I’m getting a-head of myself…aren’t I?

So let me ask a different question…

Have you ever been chased?

He was panting the whole way.

Round the corner where the pastor liked to play his accordion.

Over the iron wrought fence that blocked off the alley from the cars.

Through the double doors of the unused library.

Out the back.

Through the nook by J. H. Thomas’ shop.

And over the broken manhole right to the berry-red bench in the tiny cranny.

Michael knew the route like the back of his hand, spent every day of his life traversing it. Or, at least, every day of his High School life, which was the only important part of your life you considered when you’re fresh faced and under twenty.

But they were right behind him, he could swear they were, thumping along and hollering; you could only run for so long. The clock of the church chimed from somewhere a ways away, in Big Ben style; Six PM.

He jostled a trash can on his way, half-heartedly hoping that it might slow his pursuers down as he rounded the corner. The relief that flooded him when his target, a bench, came into his sights was a thankful feeling

For all of five seconds.

Then he was yanked back by his collar, just out of reach of his fragile safety net. Falling to the hard concrete, three faces loomed into his view; three black leather jackets swarming around him and his red hoodie like vultures around a recent bloody kill

Jacob Matheson. The head vulture, front and center, grinning over his recent (and recurring) victim.

He was the son of the owner of the largest retail store in town, which earned him a bit of a celebrity status in the sleepy rurals of northern Virginia. Probably the only reason why he was the leader of his little gang.

“What’s your hurry, huh?

Michael grimaced as a boot came down on his chest

“I…ugh. I was just on my way back home..

“Liar. You live other way.”

“What’s the super special occasion?” Another boy said. “We never see you out anymore, Mikey-Wikey. You wouldn’t go off without at least saying ‘hi’, would you?”

“Our feelings might get hurt. You wouldn’t want that now would you?”

Michael refused to answer that, wincing as the toe of the boot dug deeper into his ribs

“So how you going to make it up to us, huh? How much you got on you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a really terrible liar, Mikey.” Jacob gestured towards the others.

Two seconds later and they pried Michael’s hands off of his pockets to start their rummaging

“Nice. A whole twenty.”

“There’s more than that! What’s this?”

The other boy held a miniature keychain of a football, twirling it around on one of his fingers

“That’s mine. Give it back!” Michael lunged, yet the boy had already tossed it to another

The three jeered and danced around him, taking turns with the keychain.

“Ooh. Almost got it that time!

“Gonna practice your jumping skills with us, huh?”

“Good dog!”

“Go get it, boy!

“You think we can teach him to beg?”

“You want it?? You want it?? HA!”

Jacob was last to receive, and Michael turned to him in irritation. “You have my money. You played your little game. Can you just leave already?”

“I don’t know. We just got here.” A murmur of agreement. “What are you doing with this thing anyways? Pining for the good ol’ days when you were still on the team?”

“Aw, Jacob. Can’t you see he misses playing?” One of the other vultures said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Did I say that too soon? How long’s it been? Four months? Five? Got your leg all healed up nicely?”

One of the boys pretended to make a pass at his left leg, causing him to jerk into the defensive. Jacob flashed a grin at the sight.

“Still not in tip top shape, huh? Considering what happened, playing with this little football is probably the closest thing to a real game you’ll ever going to get for the rest of your life. But don’t worry, Mikey.”

Jacob’s little wicked sneer only grew smug.

“I’m sure the rest of the team will do just fine without you. You were just the water boy, weren’t you? Most benched player ever in ol’ G. H. T. High. Quite the honor.”

Michael gritted his teeth; he never cared too much about playing football, but he also didn’t need to hear this.

“But you can come play with us any time. We don’t mind that you’ve got a bum leg. In fact, how about you go long right now?”

Jacob pulled back with a sinister little smirk and a clear intent to throw it straight to the roof of the nearby apartment building. Unfortunately for him, the football was snatched just before he let it loose.

“Wow, what do you know? A real life wannabe biker gang in their native environment.”

The football’s new owner was a welcome sight. A pink sweater, a black skirt with an embroidered horse, a white blouse, and the look of someone who had just ate a whole bag of sour gummy worms (Jacob and his gang tended to have that effect on people).

“Ugh. It’s the girlfriend. Go away, Karen. Nobody invited you.”

“As if I need an invitation to rain on your parade. If you’ll give back the money that I’m sure you stole, we can be on our way and I won’t have to tell anyone about this.”

A speck of realization later and Jacob was staring at Michael with an even wider grin than before.

“Wait, is SHE why you came out of your house? Date night? OooooOOOoooooh. Kissy kissy.”

The boys started making smooching noises, prompting Karen to let out a sigh of frustation.

“Mr. Vance! Mr. Vance! The jerks are back and they’re threatening your customers!”

“Whine all you want, what’s that old geezer even going to d-“

“Come over here, Mr. Arrow. There’s a bit of vandalism I think you ought to look at.” A much older man in black stained overalls came seemingly from out of nowhere, seemingly gesturing for the chief of police to follow. Jacob’s face dropped.

“Scram!” Jacob said, not even waiting for his friends before booking it straight out of the alley. They were generous, at least, if only in the fact that they threw Michael’s money back in his face.

Mr. Vance watched them retreat and let out a long, drawn out sigh. “You kids okay?”

“As good as can be, I guess.” Mike said.

“Thanks for pretending for us, Mr. Vance.” Karen said.

“A little lie goes a long ways sometimes. I only wish I could convince an officer to hang around here. Could do with a little less thieves. Those three are gotta get their comeuppance sometime.”

“Yeah?” Mike grabbed his keychain. “I’m still waiting for that to happen.”

“Might come sooner than you think. Well…come in then. I’ve got your package in.”

Mr. Vance took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow; the wrinkles that lined an otherwise middle aged face seemed particularly discernable that evening. Coupled with the silvery threads of his hair, anyone who didn’t know any better would have had the man pegged for a senior citizen. But he was very much in his thirty’s, at most, and the reasons for why he looked so aged had often been the subject of discussion in town.

Especially considering that his store was easily one of the most important places around.

The big retailer shop that lay in the heart of town was nice, but they often didn’t carry specialty items (and didn’t appreciate you asking to order them). That was where Mr. Vance and his store came in. Sure, it was tiny and cramped, and there was always a heap of unsightly broken bits of rusted metal in the corners near a large creepy portrait of a woman holding a skull, but there was so much of the place that was filled with mysterious and old objects, books galore, and more candy than you could ever possibly eat in your entire lifetime. The man had no organization to speak of, so whenever a person cared to carouse the shelves they were almost guaranteed to find something wondrously unexpected.

Karen loved it here. As much as Mike liked old nick-knacks himself, it was mostly for her sake that he stepped foot inside time and time again. Whenever she would examine a row of clocks or ancient utensils or even the words on the spine edge of a book, her whole demeanor would brighten up. He loved watching her when they were here, she would always hold a smile on her face as she delicately traced a finger over things that were several times her own age.

Currently, she seemed distracted with an old timey animation device. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what the things were called, but they consisted of a cylinder with slots for viewing, and had an image painted all around the insides. The images were slightly different, so that when the cylinder was turned quickly it would simulate movement. Animation.

Unfortunately, the one that Karen found seemed to be broken. She couldn’t get it to spin, the painted crows were forever stuck in place…

“M-miss Jackson? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. You’re here….early.” Mr. Vance said.

Mike looked up….the air somehow felt…colder as his eyes fixated on the lone figure standing in the middle of the room.

The strangely dressed lone figure standing in the middle of the room, who was most certainly not in the middle of the room a few seconds ago.

A deep green dress like a thick moss on a dark forest floor, with a pinstripe blouse and matching apron. Dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes were part and parcel of a face that oddly looked both amused and bored all at once. And the bit of frill and bow on the top of her head seemed to so wonderfully match her attire yet be so terribly out of place in a modern day setting.

She looked like a maid. An old-fashioned maid. A very lost old-fashioned maid, considering that there were no buildings nearby that were large or rich enough to need to hire one.

“My….employer…” There was surprisingly nothing strange or unusual about her voice, “…is rather anxious tonight, so I had hoped to present to him the items I had ordered. If you happen to have them ready, of course.”

“Y-yes…Yes. You…you wouldn’t happen to have come alone, Miss Jackson, would you?”

The girl smiled wistfully. “Are we ever truly alone?”

Mr. Vance visibly gulped. “Right…of…of course not. I-I-I got your package right here. Oh..Michael?”

Mike tore his eyes away from the woman back to the shopkeeper. Mr. Vance’s demeanor seemed….suddenly different. His face had gone a little pale, and there was an almost imperceptible waver in the way his voice cracked.

“Would you…would you mind waiting a bit while I wrap up Miss Jackson’s items here?”

“Uh...Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks.”

Mike headed over to where Karen had been curiously watching the whole exchange.

“Is there a costume party we weren’t invited to?” He asked her jokingly, earning a smile.

“She looks…kind of familiar. Like I’ve seen her around…just…not in that getup.”

“Yeah…I feel like I’ve seen her around, too. But I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her before…”

She turned back to the animation device….and found it….spinning. Ever so gently.

The painted crows began to flap their wings, rhythmically in time with the cylinder.

But then…faster. And faster. And furiously faster still, until the image was a seamless representation of the act of flying.

“Mike….” Karen said, the nervousness clear in her tone. The device was not electronic, yet seemed more than willing to move completely on its own.

Even he was a little hesitant to touch it, yet his mind was made up when he could feel the warmth of her fingers clinging to his.

Clap. His hand clamped down on it. When he let go, the device obediently remained still.

“Heh.” Mike’s laugh was more nervous than amused. Karen’s hand squeezed his again. “Must be off balanced or something. Speaking of spooky, though, did you check out the way Mr. Vance was- ”

“Are you going back to the cliffs?” The voice behind him interrupted.

Mike spun around to find himself face to face with the strange woman. Up close, it was more obvious that she couldn’t have been more than a few shades older than either of them, despite her rather timeless attire.

“Yes….we are…” Karen anxiously responded, “But how did you know that?”

“I’ve watched you go up there. The house I stay in happens to be nearby.”

“Where?” Mike butted in, “The only buildings up that way are all abandoned or mostly destroyed. It would be kinda hard to live in any of them. It’s pretty much a ghost town.”

“Yes…” The woman said, a faint smile on her lips. “Yes, you’re right.”

He couldn’t tell what she meant by that. Was she saying that she wasn’t living in any of those buildings?

Karen coughed. “Um. Well I like your dress. The green looks very pretty on you.”

“Oh thank you. I think so too. It also makes my employer uncomfortable and likely brings up awkward memories for him. Which is the other reason why I wear it.”

He and Karen exchanged a funny look. He couldn’t tell which was odder, the fact that she purposely wore something just to make her employer uncomfortable or the fact that she just casually dropped this information to complete strangers like it was a normal subject to talk about.

“Miss Jackson? Your items…” Mr. Vance interrupted.

“Of course.”

The shopkeeper seemed to hesitate as he handed her a bag full of several individually wrapped parcels.

“One of these…you do know one of these things on your list is…”

“Illegal?” The young woman didn’t mince words or even flinch, which is more than what Mr. Vance did in response, “Technically it’s not, if people only bother to read the law anymore. But yes. I’m well aware. But as you are quite aware, my employer is not concerned with legal matters…Anymore.”

“…I’m well aware.” He softly said.

“Will I see you later then?” The young woman said as she turned to leave.

But Mr. Vance kept his head turned away from her and firmly on a broken clock in front of him, eventually squeezing his eyes shut as though he could will her away.

“…Have a good evening then, Mr. Vance.”

“…Same to you, Miss Jackson.”

Before she left the shop proper, the woman turned one last time to Michael and Karen.

“By the way…Tom Sawyer’s road is the faster way back to town if you’re coming from the cliffs. And if you’re ever caught in an unfortunate rainstorm, please do stop by. You’re more than welcome to hide under our awning.”

“We...never go to the cliffs on a rainy day.” Karen said.

“Never say never,” With the twist of a tiny smile, the woman left the shop.

The atmosphere grew quiet.

~~~

And it remained silent for a solid minute.

“…Hey Karen? You can get our stuff, right?”

“Wha-?”

Before she knew it, Mike had just thrusted the twenty in her hands and ran out the door.

“Hey…Mike!”

“What’s he doing?” Mr. Vance said, his brows furrowed in concern.

“I think he’s trying to catch up that woman. Who was she, anyway? I don’t see her often enough around.”

“That’s because she doesn’t live in town. That’s Eleanor Jackson. ‘Nell’ for short. She’s up near the cliffs.”

“Where near the cliffs?”

Mr. Vance handed her two glass bottles of crème soda and a heart shaped package. “I’m sure Michael would be very insistent that you don’t open it until you’re together.”

Purposefully changing the subject.

“…And you said that women asked for something illegal…”

“Now don’t you repeat anything you’ve heard here…”

“I…I won’t. But is everything alright? If she’s forcing you to do something illeg-“

“It’s not like that.”

It was said so forcefully and emotionally that Karen took a step back.

“…It’s not like that.” Mr. Vance said, softer this time, “But you should go and stop Mike. Nothing good will come of him following after Nell like that.”

Package and soda in hand, she started to do just that.

“Karen.”

She paused.

“…Don’t always trust Nell. She often only gives you half of the truth.”

With that statement freshly turning in her head, Karen went out into the alley looking for Mike.

He didn’t get very far; right around the corner he looked up at her sheepishly from the ground, while a friendly face tried unwind a long bit of fishing line.

“I tried catching her, but…”

“I think I ended up catchin’ a young ‘un instead.” Mr. Mortimer flashed a grin at her before untwisting the hook from Mike’s jacket, “You ain’t quite the fish I be looking for, lad.”

Mr. Mortimer was a fisherman. Probably by trade, too, as that’s the only thing she’s ever seen him do. He always had a fishing pole in one hand, his trusty (but peculiar looking) tackle box in the other, a smile on his wrinkled face, and a song on his lips. Very few people in town could ever say that they hated the man, even though he did always smell like fish.

He was also frequently wet, as he claims he never had good balance and constantly fell in. She had no doubts about that. The sight of him trudging around soaked in the frigid air….She often felt freezing just looking at him….

“Are you alright, Mr. Mortimer?” Karen said, offering to help him up. His hands were cold as usual.

“Aye I’m alright, I’m alright. No harm done,” With Karen’s help, he stood steady on his feet again, “But tell me young ‘un, what had you such ‘n a hurry? Who were ya chasin’ after?”

“Some lady we saw at the shop.”

Mr. Mortimer flashed him a joking grin. “Chasin’ after another while you got your young lady here?”

Karen snorted.

“Hey! No! That’s not what I meant! Karen!” Mike didn’t find it as amusing as they did, and gestured her to help him out.

“Mr. Vance said her name is Eleanor Jackson.”

Mr. Mortimer’s eyebrows rose in recognition.

“You know her?” Karen asked.

“Aye.”

“Did she come down this way?” Mike said.

“Sorry, young ‘un, I didn’t see anyone but yourself.”

“But I could have sworn she turned here…”

“She be a sweet girl, no doubt. But you’re best off not followin’ her home, for your own good.”

“Mr. Vance said something like that…” Karen said.

“He be a smart one. Is he in today?”

They nodded. Before they could say anything else, Mr. Mortimer bid them good day and went off to the shop.

“Mr. Vance didn’t want to answer any questions about her either…”

“Everyone’s acting funny about her. I don’t get it.”

“Well…let’s not worry about it anymore. I really want to go to the cliffs tonight before it gets too dark,” She shook the heart shaped parcel slyly, “What’s in the box?”

“Three guesses,” Mike grinned.

“Hmmm,” She held it up to her ear and closed her eyes, as though she could somehow divine the answer, “Caramel chews, sour worms and…black licorice gummy bears?”

“Right on all three counts!”

“Do I get a prize?”

“Do I count? Or are you still mad at me because I went ‘chasing’ after someone else?”

“I guess I can forgive you,” She said coyly, giving him a peck on the cheek.

They walked off together, hand in hand, too distracted with each other to notice the growing storm clouds overhead….

Storm clouds the weatherman never predicted.

Storm clouds that never moved from their position above the woods that led up to the cliffs.

#chapter 1

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original-character-archives · 7 years ago

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((Art by me! Long profile)) Name: Vance Åkerfeldt Aka: “Godzilla”, “Van”, “Vancy”. Age & Date of Birth: November 25th, 1995 and he’s 47 He looks about 30 or 35. Species: That’s complicated. He’s it sure who his dad is and he thinks that he’s some sort of Demon, but his mom is a creature known as an IsKvinnor. He got experimented on and now he’s part/mostly a Klojätte Beast. Gender: Male Orientation: Bisexual Fandom/Original: He’s an original and one of my first characters.

Warnings: Abuse, body horror, neglect, weird ass parents.

Biography: Vance’s mother, Elina was an exiled IsKvinnor. Vance was a smart kid, but he rarely spoke to “Miss. Elena” because she would come home late at night and he would find her passed out on the couch. There were even times when she would bringrandom people home. They usually creeped Vance out, so he would spend the night in the locked bathroom.

Elina found new vices. She frequently did drugs along with drinking, and she was violent. He would often fight her back to keep himself safe. One day Elina brought home a guy who Vance really didn’t trust. He claimed that he was a vampire and that his name was Mr.Green. He did weird things to him like biting him and even taking pictures of him. Before things got worse, he started to sleep in the park whenever he was over.

Aunt Olivia would attend school functions with him and his story was that his mother died. He eventually moved in with Aunt Olivia, never telling her about his mom because he didn’t want to ruin her life more than it already was. He started to hate her, and there was a time when Vance came home from school and he found his mother passed out from drugs. He considered letting her die, but that would make him no better than her. He called the paramedics and she sought out his grandmother.

Elika was infuriated that he came to her clan, but he explained everything. Elika was proud that her grandson was brave enough to speak to her, and she gave in. With the help of Olivia, he was able to live by himself. He had a part time job working at Her bookstore and he was away from Elina.

During his college years, Vance worked as an English tutor for Foreign students and he worked hard to get his degrees in World History and Chemistry. His Aunt loved him like a son, but she could see that he was becoming like his mother. He would sleep around and he would often black out from drinking too much. Olivia sat him down and told him that he had to change his ways or he would end up like Elina. He took her advice to heart and he started to change what he did. He quit everything, turned to working out, and he enrolled in a PHD program as he worked.

He was job searching when he as he was walking he got kidnapped by some strange people. He recognized that weird “Mr.Green” man. Mr. Green told him that he was part of a private army that fought against demons. They discovered that Vance’s genes would allow them to create a type of soldier that could take on these Dangerous demons.

They would take replace some part of his body with a part from some sort of creature, and they would run tests until he became fully acclimated with the new part. Mr. Green, who was a doctor, tried to do brain surgery on him, hoping to make him more feral than anything, but that proved impossible.

There was a security breach in the facility. Demons and Sorcerers were destroying cells and personnel, and Vance took this as his chance to leave. He was clumsy, but he managed to crawl away. He fell into a lake where he blacked out for a few days.

He had washed up on the lake shore, but Something was attacking his arm. It hissed and dig into the ground. He remembered where his aunt lived. He made it to her back porch and he passed out again. He woke up to Olivia trying to move him into her house. She never forgave herself do not being there, and she was upset that she couldn’t find him. She did her best to care for him, and he tried to make things easier for her.

He became depressed, and Olivia was tired of this. She said the best thing he could do was to change his thinking he could do what they made him for. He agreed, and they worked together to get him back into his feet.

It took them 4 years, but he was able to reconfigure his motor skills. He decided to take up demon hunting. It was a difficult job, but he got paid really well for doing it. He gave most of his money to Olivia, thanking her for taking the time to be with him even though he was difficult to handle.

He was stalking a criminal when he got jumped by something that was really strong. He asked him who he was, and the creature said that his name was Dystrophy. That he was trapped in the facility and that when things went down, he wanted to be safe. He saw how they changed Vance, and he wanted to be that strong, which is why he decided to attack him on the lake shore. He attacked him a second time because he was still angry at the fact that he was attacked first. He learned that Dystrophy was some sort of alien who came to earth as a larvae. They were good friends for a while until Vance learned that Dystrophy ate people. He told him that he couldn’t do that, but every time he mentioned it, they would get into real bad fights. The last that he heard, Dystrophy had made his way to England.

He did fight a demon who teleported him to somewhere in America. Although confused as to why America, he was relieved because nobody really paid any attention to him, and he actually enjoyed that.

He found another job as a demon hunter, and what he liked was that the demons here were tougher. After a long while, he got an unexpected visit from Dystrophy. He asked him what he was doing there, and he told him that he learned that there was a D.I.R.E Unit nearby, and they were doing more experiments on innocent people. Vance asked him if he could help him stop what was going on, but Dystrophy told him that it was not his problem. After much convincing, Dys reluctantly helped him. One of the prisoners was a young boy who was being turned into the same monster as Vance. He wasn’t sure what he should do. He decided to take the kid back to a place in the woods that he had found. because he wasn’t sure if he ate people like Dystrophy, but he couldn’t take the risk.

The kid eventually woke up, but he was worst off than him because the kid would always attack him. Vance would sometimes provoke the kid into fighting him so that he could get his nervous energy of his system. Eventually the kid was able to communicate to him, and he told him that his name was Aerik. He told him that he could stay with him, but only if he wanted to and as long as he didn’t kill innocent people. Aerik wasn’t sure, and he did leave for a few days, until he came back. He agreed to live with Vance, where he was adopted.

Appearance: Vance is a handsome guy and he has a rather noticeable appearance. He has what has been called a rather nice face, but apparently he looks like his mom with black hair. He has a mane of thick, black hair that goes down to his rib cage. Because he’s a natural blonde, he’s sort of pale, but his eyebrows are dark which makes him look a bit odd. He explains that he’s mixed with someone, but he’s not sure, he just knows that they were not white. He has slightly large eyes that are cherry red, and catlike with yellow sclera. When he does smile, he has large, sharp, white teeth like a wolfs. Along his body he has old scars that were caused by different things and fights. On his left arm is a rather nice tattoo that he was in the middle of getting before he disappeared.

His most noticeable features on Vance are that his hands and feet look like they were taken from some creature and placed on his extremities. The creature is from Sweden and it is called a Klojätte Beast. Because of this, he has claws that are thick and about 9 inches long, he has a broad tail, and legs like the creature.

As of now, he’s about 9’ 8" and 770lbs of dense muscle. His tail is almost like a crocodiles, and it ends with slight fur, but he’s not a swimmer. He’s always seen wearing the color black and he has gauges in his ears.

Personality: Vance is actually a really cool guy. He does have a rather intimidating appearance and people are wary to talk to him, but he’s really chill. He acts like an older brother, and even though he can have fun, he’s also strict. He’s a hard worker, and he values friendship.

On the other hand he’s really self conscious about how he looks. He’s always worried that he’ll hurt someone and generally he keeps to himself. He has an adopted son named Aerik, and he loves this kid to death. They are kind of the same, so they can act like themselves around each-other without getting hurt. Favourite & Least Favourite things: Favorites: He loves sunbathing, fighting, hanging out with Luka, and games. His absolute favorite thing is finding and reading old or rare books. He’s also a bit of a weirdo and he likes brushing his teeth.

Least Favorites: Vance does not like large bodies of dark water. He sinks, and he gets panicky when he has to be near water. He has this thing about people touching his hair. He cannot stand it and he took a guys head off for pulling it “for fun”. He also has a thing about being dirty because he doesn’t want to be seen as some sort of messy creature. He’s really clean.

Strengths and Weaknesses: Physical Strengths: Vance was made to be a literal tank. He has dense muscles and reinforced bones that add to his already enhanced strength. His skin is fire and bulletproof, and he does have enhanced healing. A swipe from one of his claws can destroy a concrete pillar and he can swing his tail with 4,000 pounds of force.

Strengths: Vance has always had a protective nature and he’s always looking out for everyone. He’s not religious, but he thinks that if he was made this way, then he’s supposed to keep people safe. He’s also extremely intelligent and he thinks very fast. A lot of people assume that he’s the “Big dumb guy”, but he’s just always in his head thinking about different things.

Weaknesses: Anger. When he gets really angry, he looses himself and he’s hard to reason with. Luckily he’s never hurt anyone and he does his best not to, but it’s taken Miha and Dvorrah together to stop him.

Additional notes: 8 Facts about Vance! 1. He has a weird way of talking. Apparently he sounds like he speaks slang, 2. According to Luka, in terms of swatting strength, He says that he’s an angry cat while Vance is a Grizzly Bear. He’s crazy strong. 3. There are identical clones of him. One guy is named Nero and he lives in the Netherworld. The other was an alien named Dystrophy, but he died. 4. He has a tick where he squints his eyes like he wears glasses or something. 5. Due to freaky science, he doesn’t have any organs below his stomach. He can eat though and he needs to eat once a month. 6. He can crush a coconut with his teeth. He’s tried it before, so it’s not advisable to get bitten by him. 7. He never noticed this but he sways his hips when he walks. It could be the tail, or whatever, but it’s nice to look at apparently. 8. He catches himself, but he breathes creepy. He sounds like a crocodile. It’s something you would it like to hear at night

Specify here whether fanart/fanwork of your OC is okay! Yes, I would be really grateful if you do so!

#original #abuse #body horror #submission #evangelionunitkenway

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unto-myself-together · 8 years ago

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Of Stories and Songs: A Haunted Mansion Fanfic Ch 1

Ok. If I keep going on fretting about how imperfect this chapter is, I’m never going to get it out.

I have now edited a TON of stuff in this chapter.

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Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7