#involving the Wicked Witch

[hopepaigeturner]

Villainous Benophie: The Finale

Inspired by @orangepeelshortbreadcookies; BRILLIANT Villainous Viscount AU (read on AO3 here). So all creds go to her!

And while she has done a beautiful fic about Benophie in this universe, Thieves of Dusk (10% RECOMMEND A READ. Read on AO3 here). But we’ve been chatting about my own ideas for Benophie. So, with her blessing here’s the next part of my version.

Part 6 Here

As the Bridgertons sharpen their teeth and knives Sophie wakes up in a very recognisable room in Mayfair with Hyacinth tied by her side. Her heart turns to ice as Araminta Penwood walks in with her saccharine smirk.

How did they find her?

Well love makes fools of us and while Benedict is able to walk as if made of air, or can hide a million bad intentions in a smile—he forgot to hide his sketches of Sophie. And Benedict was right, there is no such thing as hope or luck merely opportunity, for one of Lord Hotham’s friends stumbled across the storeroom while looking for alcohol. And he just happened to mention it to Lord Hotham who set a close watch until they caught the pair. They’d waited a couple weeks to get a special license. Sophie was to be married the next morning with Hyacinth as collateral—and a bridesmaid if she wore a gag.

But Araminta will give Sophie one present. She’ll be generous and allow the rules around separating bride and groom to be bent—afterall he’s waited long enough.

Sophie tires to stand tall as the man of her nightmare steps out of the shadows.

Meanwhile the Bridgerton crime family is in full swing knives out and gunning for blood. Benedict like a bloodhound ready to tear to pieces anyone who tries to lay a hand on Sophie. Yet even as he checks the sword inside of his cane, Anthony Bridgerton seems unnaturally cool a façade for the clicking of gears within his brain of a plan…

Araminta leaves Lord Hotham and Sophie alone in the room and he wastes no time. Sophie struggles, tries to fight him off and her victory is within her grasp until a knife comes out and there is blood on her cheek and then—

Hyacinth, freed and feral, kicks the man in the balls sending him stumbling. He swings around but sje is gone apart from a peal of giggles that seem to lead down the corridor. The Lord runs off to grab his escaped quarry leaving Sophie alone—door still locked.

Just as the emotions threaten to crash over her, she hears a hiss of her name. She turns to find Hyacinth on top of the wardrobe, the remains of her ties dangling from her wrist and a set of keys in one hand.

For all of Anthony and Violet’s careful shielding, of all their hopes for hyacinth ot remain the most proper of ladies ready to flourish in the ton—Hyacinth is a Bridgerton through and through.

So, three flights down the stairs the Bridgertons storm the back door while Sophie and Hycainth steal down the shadows of the stairs.

All roads lead to the study where a confrontation is taking place. Birdgerton rabble against the ton as Araminta grandly announces as she and Lord Hotham mock the Bridgertons from behind the shileds of their status. Most comments are hurled at Benedict who has that ringing in his ear again, his hands fisted as if holding the strings of his anger—although those fists are quivering.  

Until Sophie and Hyacinth rush in, much to everyone’s surprise. But Benedict takes one look at the long cut on Sophie; s cheek—and the anger rolls over him once more. In an instant he has a knife to the man’s neck, and a gun pointed at Araminta the intention in his eyes so clear that Lord Hotham starts pleading.

Let him choke on his own blood, let her have each limb potholed bullet by bullet.

There is a pressure on his shoulder that he registers amidst all the ringing. There is a whisper then a voice filtering through.

“Ben, Ben look at me.”

He shakes his head.

“Ben, please.”

“They deserve pain and destruction seven times over for every scar they have put on you. They deserve nothing more than death.”

“I know, but not at your hand.”

“I have killed many.”

“But you have not killed any for me, and I do not wish to bear that stain on my soul nor for you to. I do not wish them to have any purchase over your soul—over our soul. Ben, please.”

“I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do, my love,” Sophie pleads, “this is not a kill as a Bridgerton but as Benedict, here you have the choice. You can either choose them or me—that is your choice.”

The knife quivers, little drops of blood on its edge.

But Benedict retreats, not without kicking over the chair and sending the Lord sprawling painfully to the ground. He turns and he is in Sophie’s arms, and he finds that she is shaking.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his shoulder, and he holds her tighter. Both stand together, tethered to each other.

Ofcourse Araminta must throw another jab.

“Might I muzzle her?” Benedict asks the room and Sophie giggles while Anthony gives the sliver of a smile before stepping towards the aristocrats.

“No need Benedict, what I have to say shall do the trick nicely.”

And then Anthony starts speaking and everyone’s mouths go wide.

Lord Hotham and Araminta are shocked to find themselves talking to their ‘new’ solicitor who took over their accounts a couple months prior—the night Benedict had visited him to tell him about Sophie.  They are even more shocked to find out that their ‘new’ solicitor has engaged them in certain faulty investments, little transactions that when added up so lead to a nice pile of charges. Charges such as embezzlement, treason, scandal will set alight all that power they hold so dear.

Yet Anthony will stay his hand and his lips if they agree to burn the marriage license—and hand over a significant sum of money. A very significant sum of money.

Cornered Araminta and the Lord acquiesce all those in the room watch as the license burns into ash.

Anthony gives them the Bridgerton smirk before tipping his hat and bidding them adieu.

Araminta makes a last jab at Benedict; a real low blow and the entire room is stunned when Sophie whirls around and punches her so hard Araminta’s nose breaks.

Finally, the night is over, and a celebration occurs at the Bridgerton household. And as the dawn finally greets them, Anthony hands Benedict the money they received that night. All of it.

Because no matter how much blood he has on his hands, no matter how terrifying one look Anthony Bridgerton give, Anthony promised their father to look after them, and their father always wanted a better life for all of them. And for Benedict that life is for Sophie

So, in the end, Benedict and Sophie move to a modest cottage in Wiltshire where Benedict becomes an apprentice to a frame maker, then an elusive artist who takes the ton by swarm not only fo rhis talent but due to his anonymity. Sophie becomes a governess before the children. The pair are beloved among the village, Benedict the charming husband and Sophie the sweet wife.

Although everyone knows that Sophie has an uncanny knack for cards and gossip, while if you need a certain certain something from a less reputable source then Benedict Bridgerton is your man...

And they live happily ever after.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Woop! I finally finished this little story that was supposed to be a drabble. Oopsie!

Ask box is open if you ever want to know more about this AU and as always all credit goes to the wonderful @orangepeelshortbreadcookies.

[hauntedorpheum]

"omg did you know that Nessa is supposed to be the other wicked witch? 🤯" yeah man, The Wizard of Oz (1939) told me that

[heartshattering]

I relate more to "brain melted" than "brain fried" lol like no my brain didn't "fry", it melted into a big pile of goop like moldy pudding. But yeah, I only see people say "brain fried".

[camelspit]

oh my god rosin you’re rebloging OUAT posts??? i used watched that allllll the time! we truly have lived the same life <3 (also this is random but have you seen this animated show on netflix called the deep?)

used to watch ouat with my mom RELIGOUSLY back in the day.. even back then i knew whatever emma and regina had going on was kinda 😳 she started rewatching it recently so its been on my mind

also i havent watched the deep 😔

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[jadeshifting]

— EVER AFTER HIGH PARENT IDEAS ( and your DESTINY, if you choose to follow it )

　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　

⋆˙⟡ SUGARPLUM FAIRY. .　　. 　 ˚　. imagine walking through life, as quite literally every one your steps leaves a trail of glitter and sweet, sugary melodies. as the child of the Sugarplum Fairy, you’re a dreamy whirlwind of pastel hues, frothy tulle outfits, and shimmering wings that sparkle under any light. your destiny? to dance through the world, spreading joy and enchantment, but the conflict lies in balancing your saccharine charm with a rebellious streak—do you really want to follow the same delicate, sugar-dusted path, or is there more to you than meets the eye, something deeper underneath that syrupy shimmering exterior?

⋆˙⟡ JAFAR. .　　. 　 ˚　. you drip with surreal, desert glam—rich, jewel-toned fabrics that shimmer like a mirage, gold accents that gleam under every light, and a serpentine elegance that commands attention. as Jafar’s child, your destiny involves mastering ancient magic and wielding immense power, but you may constantly find yourself struggling between the allure of ultimate control, and the desire to break free from the shadow of your father’s tyrannical ambitions. will you follow in his footsteps to seize the throne of Agrabah, or rewrite your own destiny and become a force for good?

⋆˙⟡ RUMPLESTILTSKIN. .　　. 　 ˚　. decked out in of dark, earthy tones with a splash of gold, your look is mysterious and mischievous—think intricate patterns, tattered cloaks, and a smirk that says you know everyone’s secrets (spoiler: you do.) it goes without saying that your look is… off-putting. people shoot you weird looks in the hallway, no matter how nice you are. your destiny? to spin straw into gold and strike cunning deals, but the real issue lies in escaping the shadow of your infamous parent. do you embrace the trickster life, or can you rewrite your story and find a way to use your magic for something greater than just personal gain?

⋆˙⟡ THE TIN MAN. .　　. 　 ˚　. clad in surreal, metallic glam, your look shines with silver hues, intricate clockwork accessories, and a heart motif that subtly reminds everyone of your legacy. your destiny revolves around finding and protecting the heart you’ve inherited, while embracing the strength and resilience of your metal heritage. the conflict? balancing your desire to feel deeply with the fear of vulnerability—can you show your true emotions without rusting your resolve, or will the weight of your father’s past keep you guarded and distant from everyone?

⋆˙⟡ DOCTOR FACILIER. .　　. 　 ˚　. you’re a surreal mix of voodoo chic and glam—dark, flowing fabrics with pops of vibrant purples and greens, enchanted talismans, and a top hat that always seems to cast a sinister shadow over your eyes just right. your destiny is to walk the line between charm and danger, dealing in mystical fortunes and shadowy magic, but struggling with the legacy of your father’s deals with the dark forces is tough—do you embrace the power and risk falling into their trap, or can you carve out your own path of magic without losing your very soul?

⋆˙⟡ THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST. .　　. 　 ˚　. your unshakeable glamor comes with a dark twist—emerald greens, dramatic capes, and a splash of daggering rebellion that makes even the darkest clouds shimmer. your destiny is intimately tied to mastering powerful magic and rewriting the narrative of wickedness, emphasized by the small cluster of winged apes you see outside your window sometimes, but the conflict? battling the shadow of your infamous mother while deciding if you’ll embrace the “wicked” label, or rise above it to create your own story. can you turn the storm of expectations into your own magical whirlwind, or will you be caged by the legacy of skybound wickedness?

⋆˙⟡ ARIEL. .　　. 　 ˚　. half-human and half-mermaid (for now) you’re all surreal underwater glam—flowing fabrics that shimmer like the ocean, pearlescent accessories, and hair that always seems to have a touch of sea breeze in it. you’re destined to explore the balance between land and sea, singing your heart out and maybe even falling for a human. but living in the shadow of your mother’s tale, torn between the call of the ocean’s depths and the allure of the surface world, where every step feels like it could change your fate, isn’t as easy as it seems. even before you sign the Storybook of Legends, you can’t seem to escape being caught between two worlds

⋆˙⟡ KING MIDAS. .　　. 　 ˚　. dripping in gold from head to toe, everything about you is pure luxury—opulent fabrics, gilded accessories, and an air of untouchable royalty. being the child of King Midas means your destiny is all about turning everything you touch into gold, but here’s the catch: it’s a blessing and a curse. the conflict? learning to connect with others without the fear of turning them into statuesque gold statues, and figuring out how to value the things that can’t be measured in wealth along the way. maybe if you don’t sign the Storybook of Legends, everything around you won’t turn gold and cold—who knows?

⋆˙⟡ URSULA. .　　. 　 ˚　. with a fierce, sea-inspired energy to you and your wardrobe, your aesthetic is all about dramatic flair—sleek, oceanic shades, statement jewelry, and a touch of deep-sea darkness. as Ursula’s kid, your destiny involves wielding powerful, transformative magic and charming others with your silver tongue. but it’s heavy, dark, living under the pressure of either following in your mother’s tentacled footsteps as a master manipulator, or choosing to rise above the sea witch legacy to create your own wave of destiny

⋆˙⟡ JACK FROST. .　　. 　 ˚　. with a whimsical yet icy glamour, your look is all frosted blues, sparkling whites, and shimmering accents that catch the light like fresh snow. being Jack Frost’s kid means your destiny revolves around bringing winter wonder to the world, but you still have to decide if you’ll embrace the cold, distant legacy of your frosty father. can you balance being a literal force of nature with the desire you might have to be a little bit warmer, maybe a bit more serious? after all, life can’t be all snowball fights all the time, can it?

⋆˙⟡ CAPTAIN HOOK. .　　. 　 ˚　. with a look that practically screams rebellious pirate chic—think leather jackets, rugged boots, and a smirk that could sink ships—you’re dripping in cool without trying. as Captain Hook’s kid, your destiny involves mastering the art of swashbuckling, treasure hunting, and living life on the edge. but deciding whether to follow the old man’s footsteps and embrace the pirate’s life, or forge your own path in a world that expects you to be a villain, turns out to be harder than you think. the pirate ship and the trunks of jewels are beyond cool, but your heart might secretly long for something different—something on land

⋆˙⟡ THE HOOKAH CATERPILLAR. .　　. 　 ˚　. your whole identity is pure surrealism mixed with dreamy glam—soft, flowing fabrics in misty blues and purples, with intricate patterns that swirl like smoke. as the child of the Hookah Caterpillar, your destiny involves guiding others through their journeys of self-discovery and transformation. however, you have your own desire to explore life’s mysteries, one that makes it difficult to navigate being the calm, wise figure people seek out. do you stay grounded in your wisdom, or lose yourself to the endless possibilities of wonderland?

⋆˙⟡ TINKERBELL. .　　. 　 ˚　. blending whimsical woodland charm and dashes of pixie dust that glitz and shimmer, you flit through life in sparkling greens, fluttery fabrics, and just the right amount of gently carved accessories of wood and flower. being Tinkerbell’s child means your destiny is tied to fixing things and spreading magic, but balancing your love for adventure with the weight of expectations is hard—are you happy to be just a sidekick meant to assist others, or do you carve out your own spotlight and prove you’re capable of much more than your destiny leaves room for?

⋆˙⟡ THE CANDY WITCH. .　　. 　 ˚　. you’re a surreal mix of sugary sweetness and dark whimsy—think candy-colored fabrics with sharp, gothic undertones, lollipop accessories, and an air of dangerous charm. as the child of the Candy Witch, your destiny involves concocting magical treats and wielding confectionery spells—but fighting the urge to follow the sinister path of luring unsuspecting little ones to their death is hard, when everyone expects you to be that terrible. if you avoid signing the Storybook of Legends, can you concoct a sweeter destiny, one where your magic is used for good, while proving you’re more than just a chip off the old (gingerbread) block

⋆˙⟡ THE NUTCRACKER. .　　. 　 ˚　. your wardrobe consists of exclusively crisp, regal uniforms with your own little twists—nutcracker-inspired embellishments, metallic accents, and hints of festive magic here and there. as the next Nutcracker, you’re destined to spend your life protecting and bringing joy, leading magical battles and standing up for what’s right. but you find it hard to balance the duty of your heritage with the desire to break free from the rigid expectations of being a protector. can you find a way to honor tradition while still marching to the beat of your own drum?

⋆˙⟡ BLUEBEARD. .　　. 　 ˚　. blending gothic opulence with a dash of eerie elegance, you’re all about deep, moody blues, intricate lace, and key-shaped accessories that hint at locked-away secrets. being Bluebeard’s kid, your destiny is entangled with unlocking the mysteries of your family’s dark past. you’re forced to decide whether to embrace the legacy of hidden truths and dark deeds, or break the cycle by shining a light on the secrets that haunt you, proving that your story doesn’t have to end in tragedy, and you can break free of the dank castle your family is tied to

　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

never been (stage) kissed

Summary: After years of being a struggling actress in Los Angeles, you finally land your big break! The only problem is, you’ve been cast opposite your longtime celebrity crush… Ruby Cruz. What will you do when the director demands a kiss between the two of you?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, small amount of adult humor, kissing, fluff, thigh touching, in depth details of Hollywood movie shooting, anxious!reader, publicity tweets and comments, ruby being the sweetest girl EVER

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction. I’ve included a mass disclaimer of RPF guidelines here. Make SURE to click the link before reading, it’s extremely important for the safety of all Real People involved in this fiction.

———

You stared at the movie script in your hand, biting your lip to stop from squealing. After being in Los Angeles for the past five years, you had finally landed your big break.

You had known that you wanted to act ever since your mother signed you up to be a munchkin in a community theatre production of “The Wizard of Oz.” Of course, being a stubborn elementary schooler, you fought her on it, saying the songs were “stupid” and the costumes were “itchy.” But as soon as opening night came, and the lights hit your face, you put on a smile and celebrated the death of the Wicked Witch like it was something you’d been waiting for your entire life.

After the song's last note, deafening applause echoed around the theater, causing adrenaline to course through your veins. In that moment, you decided to spend the rest of your life chasing that feeling.

When you reached middle school, you joined their drama department, taking theatre as an elective class while occasionally participating in the school plays. Once high school rolled around, you began to take some of the more advanced classes, and even competed in a couple One-Act Play competitions. A lot of the people you started taking classes with eventually got bored and left to pursue other hobbies, but over the years you just fell more and more in love with acting, and became completely dedicated to your craft.

Instead of attending college, after you graduated high school you packed up whatever you needed and moved across the country to a small town about half an hour away from Los Angeles. The area was slightly sketchy, your apartment was small, and you had to work two jobs while sharing with four other roommates just to make rent.

Los Angeles kinda… sucked. But you had stars in your eyes and couldn’t be happier.

Unfortunately, you were kind of in for a rude awakening once audition season rolled around. Back in high school, you would book leads left and right. Now, it seemed like the only gigs you could book were background work, maybe a role in a rinky-dink student film if you were lucky. You always took what you could get, but you longed for something that could get your foot in the door.

One day, one of the short films you starred in entitled “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens” got entered into some film festival, and not only did it win an award you couldn’t remember the name of, it ended up going viral on YouTube, and not in a bad way either. Your performance in that film was astounding.

Plus, not that this was the sole reason the film blew up, but as an actress in your early 20’s who tended to take care of herself, you were kind of… well… hot.

Suddenly, you were getting recognized in public, signed with an agency, and landing more notable roles. You were featured in a music video for an up-and-coming country artist, booked a commercial for a costume makeup company (in which you brought back your look from “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens”), and even starred in three episodes of a new series on HBO Max.

Just when you thought life couldn’t get any better, one day you were coming back from what was either your third or fourth audition of the day, when you got a call from your agent on the drive home. You groaned, almost certain she was calling to schedule another “last-minute” audition. Sure you appreciated how hard she worked to get you booked, but you were also so tired after a long day.

To your surprise, when you picked up the phone, she ecstatically announced that you had booked a huge role.

In a feature film.

Starring alongside your celebrity crush… Ruby Cruz.

You had to pull over on the side of a highway to keep from swerving out of excitement.

Ruby had been your celebrity crush since you saw her in the Disney+ series “Willow.” Her masculine ambience, her devil-may-care attitude, and the way she swung her sword had you absolutely drooling. Somehow, you finished the entire series in two days, and immediately ran to IMDB to add Every Single Thing she’s been in to your watch list.

Now, you stood in front of the building where your first read-through was supposed to take place, the script for “Aliens of Atlantis” resting in your shaking hands. You gulped as you pushed open the door, wondering how you were going to keep your cool around Ruby when the very thought of her practically sent you into cardiac arrest.

Walking into the reading room, you were met with several chairs arranged into a circle and sounds of chatter from the other actors. You recognized a few of them from some smaller projects, even recognizing one from a movie that had come out the previous year. Your eyes scanned the room for Ruby, heart beating out of your chest when they landed on the back of a choppy brunette bob.

When Ruby turned around, you swore her blue eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights. She caught you staring at her from across the room, and shot you a wide toothy smile before walking over to you.

“Hey,” she started. “You must be Zephyra.”

You blinked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Zephyra.” She repeated. “You’re playing the alien queen of Atlantis, right?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at you slightly and tilted her head, worried she may have gotten you mixed up with someone else.

Her words clicked in your head, finally. “Oh! Yes! I’m playing the role of Zephyra.”

Ruby’s smile returned as she let out a lighthearted chuckle. You swallowed, trying to keep your cool. You still had trouble wrapping your mind around the fact that you were standing in front of the Ruby Cruz, and having a semi-successful conversation.

She stuck out her hand, offering a handshake. “Hi, I’m Ruby. I’m playing Calantha.”

You took her hand, electric shocks vibrating through your body at her touch. “Nice to meet you.”

After removing her hand (much to your displeasure), she turned to walk back over to her seat, but not before flashing you a smile over her shoulder. “Can’t wait to work with you!”

God, why did she have to be so cool?

The table read went fairly well, in your opinion. The movie was about Calantha, an underwater adventurer, finding the lost city of Atlantis during an expedition. Once there, she finds the city being ruled by aliens who’s spaceship crashed near the area about 100 years ago. Calantha finds Zephyra, the alien queen, who makes her promise to keep their secret, and in return, Calantha will help her run the city.

You were playing Zephyra, of course, since being in “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens” proved you looked hot even in otherworldly makeup. You kind of thought there might be some romantic or even sexual tension between Calantha and Zephyra, but you brushed it off as you thought that might not be the artistic intention.

Once filming started, your days were basically exclusively spent on set. Not that you were complaining, you loved every second. Even after coming home at 1am when you left for work at 6am, a blissful smile would be painted across your tired face.

The only thing that bothered you was that you barely ever got to talk to Ruby on set. It was more your fault than hers. Every time you two were working together, your brain short circuited and you couldn’t get out anything more than a few dim-witted babbles. Ruby was always so sweet about it though, always lightheartedly chuckling at your barely-comprehensible speech, sometimes even giving your upper arm a squeeze if you felt especially nervous.

You knew she meant well, but any touch from your celebrity crush was sure to do the opposite of calming you down.

One day, during a filming session, you and Ruby were meant to be sitting especially close to each other. You were sure you felt some romantic tension between the two characters, but you chalked it up to your crush on the actress and tried to downplay it. The director, however, seemed very frustrated today, this was the nineteenth take of this particular scene and he still wasn’t happy.

“Cut!” He yelled, letting out a frustrated sigh as you and Ruby turned your attention towards him.

“Everything alright, sir?” Ruby asked, making you glad you weren’t the only one who noticed his irritation.

“This scene… it’s missing something.” He brought his hand to his chin and squinted at the both of you. “Do we think we could add a kiss? Right here?”

Your heart stopped, and all the moisture disappeared from your mouth.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed people before. You had your fair share of dates back in high school, that wasn’t the problem.

You’ve kissed, but you’ve never stage kissed.

Sure you had plenty of acting experiences, but the roles you played never required kissing. Instead of playing Aurora, you made a fabulous Maleficent. While Elle Woods locked lips with Emmett, you were busy portraying a hilarious Paulette. And of course, nobody wants to make out with a zombie prom queen.

You had no idea if there was any difference between actual kisses and stage-kisses. Obviously, sex scenes in movies weren’t real. But kisses? What if there is a difference and you go to kiss Ruby on camera and make her uncomfortable? What if she pushes you away? What if she gets mad? You don’t know how you’d recover from something like that, and your mind swarmed with plans to flee the country if that did happen.

Ruby opened her mouth to answer the director, before looking at you for confirmation and noticing your overly-panicked state. She sent you a reassuring smile, and placed a gentle hand on your back.

She turned to the director. “Could we pick this up after lunch? I think my scene partner and I have some things to discuss.”

The director agreed, and since it was still about thirty minutes to lunch, decided to use that time to record some “room noise.” You and Ruby were meant to sit still and quietly, the only thing you heard being the echo of your heartbeat in your ears.

Suddenly, you received a text notification, causing sound to go off and the director to groan and shoot you an annoyed look. You mumbled a quick “sorry” before switching your phone to vibrate and looking to see who texted you.

After wolfing down a sandwich from the craft services table, you stood in front of the trailer with Ruby’s name on the door, wringing your clammy hands while deciding whether or not to knock. You took a deep breath, raised your knuckles, and knocked three times, taking a step back after.

She answered almost immediately, staring down at you with a comforting grin. “Hey, come on in.”

Walking up the stairs and into Ruby’s trailer, you couldn’t help but notice how much cleaner it was than yours. You weren’t necessarily sloppy, but your vanity was covered in various bottles of blue face paint, while your floor held multiple alien-like prosthetics. Ruby’s was tidier, with a small couch pushed up against the wall, and her vanity holding nothing but some makeup basics and a half-full can of Dr. Pepper she had been drinking right before you walked in.

Ruby took a seat in her vanity chair and took a sip from her Dr. Pepper, motioning for you to sit on the small couch. “What’s going on? You didn’t seem too comfortable with the kissing scene.”

You gulped, staring down at your lap. “It’s not that…”

Ruby sat up, leaning forward to gawk at you. “Oh my god… have you never been kissed?”

“What? No! Of course I have…” you trailed off. “I just… I’ve never stage kissed before, and I know you have, so is it any different from regular kissing? I feel so stupid for asking and I’m so sorry but I didn’t wanna do it wrong while filming and I’m kinda embarrassed that I don’t know the answer so that’s why I wanted to ask you privately because I didn’t wanna fuck up…”

Ruby stared at you, silent and wide eyed. You felt your heartbeat in your ears as you tried to decipher what she was thinking. Suddenly, she threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. Your heart sank. Here you were being awkward and vulnerable in front of your crush, and she was laughing at you.

Just before you decided to get up and walk out, Ruby calmed down, wiping away a tear and smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not making fun of you. I didn’t mean to laugh, really. You’re just so cute.”

You felt your cheeks burn at her words. She thinks you’re cute?

Ruby threw her soda away in a nearby trash can and moved to sit next to you on the small couch. She criss-crossed her legs, turning to face you while pondering how to answer your question.

“So… stage kisses are different from regular kisses, but they’re also not, you know? Like, we’re kissing but we’re not like�� kissing.”

She peered over at you, studying your facial expressions. You looked more confused than ever, so she continued her explanation.

“So, if you’re asking if my lips will physically be on your lips… then the answer is yes, they will. But they’re not exactly like the real thing, because it’s more of a demonstration to the audience rather than an act of passion between two people.”

“A demonstration?” You cocked your head. Ruby nodded.

“Yeah, so say the camera was over there…” she pointed out in front of you. “…then you might cup my jaw, or cradle the back of my head. But if you were to grab my face or something like that, it’d look pretty awkward in a fifty-fifty profile shot.”

You nodded in understanding. “Ok… I think I get what you’re saying.”

“There are also different types of kissing.” Ruby continued. “Like, it should portray how your character feels about the other character. When Zephyra has scenes with Calantha, how does she feel?”

You gulped, focusing on your lap again. “Well, to be honest, it kinda feels like there’s a lot of romantic or sexual tension between our characters, but I’ve sort of been suppressing it because I’m not sure that was the intention.”

“But you feel like Zephyra is attracted to Calantha sexually?” Ruby asked. You nodded. “Great! You don’t necessarily have to make it explicit, but something like that can help you dive deeper into your character.”

Ruby scooted closer to you, taking your hands in hers. She gazed at you with half lidded eyes, causing your breathing to accelerate.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Ruby’s words barely resonated in your head, there was no way you heard her correctly. “You… huh?”

“For practice.” Ruby clarified, letting go of your hands. “Like you would during filming. Is that ok?”

An involuntary swallow forced itself down your throat as you nodded. You couldn’t believe you were about to kiss your celebrity crush, even if it was only for practice.

You pressed your hand into her warm cheek, pulling her close and quickly pecking her lips before retreating away. Your face burned from embarrassment while Ruby cocked her head, clearly confused.

“That’s it?” She asked. “My bad, I didn’t realize Calantha was your grandmother.”

Ruby moved closer and cradled the back of your head, entangling her fingers into your soft locks. You felt your hands sweat as her big blue eyes gazed into yours. “I was thinking maybe something more like this…”

She crashed her lips into yours, causing warmth to explode in your chest. Her fingers played with your hair as you began to kiss back, and your arms wrapped around her waist. Holy shit could she kiss! You could barely fathom how soft her lips were, tasting faintly of Dr. Pepper and vanilla lip balm. As hard as you tried to act professional and pretend there was a camera in front of you, every inch of your body screamed at you to succumb to your most primal instincts.

You lifted one hand from her waist and moved to rest it on her mid-thigh, causing a gentle moan to escape from her lips and a shiver to run down her body. Startled, you moved back, throughly convinced that you majorly fucked up.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, pulling back your hand like it had touched fire. “I wasn’t thinking, fuck. I got too swept up in the moment. I shouldn’t have touched you, that was completely unprofessional.”

“Hm…?” Ruby blinked, still in a daze. “Oh. Oh! You’re good! Don’t be sorry. I liked it. Really.”

Ruby grinned at you shyly. You stared back at her, a question you weren’t quite sure how to ask lingering at the tip of your tongue. “Ruby, are we still… practicing?”

Her smile faded as her eyes went wide, her gaze dropping to her lap. It was her turn to be coy, a sight you’d never seen before.

She dropped her voice to a low whisper as she choked out her question. “Do you want to be?”

Before you could even open your mouth to answer, your phone alarm screeched from your jacket pocket. You took it out, groaning as you turned it off.

Ruby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “What was that?”

“My alarm,” you answered. “I have to go.”

“But lunch isn’t over for another twenty minutes.” Ruby pointed out, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Yeah, but I have to head back early so they can touch up my makeup and fix my prosthetics.”

Ruby sighed in understanding. She supposed your costume might have a bit more upkeep than hers. Your prosthetics did look a little wonky after the lunch break, never mind your smudged blue lipstain that made her apprehensive to look in a mirror.

You collected yourself and turned to walk out, but looked over your shoulder before opening the door. “Uhm… Ruby?”

“Hm?” She answered.

You wrung your hands anxiously. “Do you think we could maybe… do this again? Sometime?”

Ruby’s head shot up to look at you, and a playful smile spread across her face. “Do what? More kissing lessons?”

You rolled your eyes as she chuckled, then gave you a lopsided grin. “I’d like that. Lunch again, tomorrow?”

A blush pink color sprinkled across the apples of your cheeks as you smiled back at her, trying your best to stay cool and suppress the giddy feeling that was bubbling inside of you.

“See you then.”

[local-lamppost]

Wicked Part 2 Theory

The biggest problem with splitting the movies between the two acts is that act 2 really is the Wizard of Oz's background political shenanigans. So how do you make another film that isn't just the Wizard of Oz or thirty minutes long? You make the Wizard of Oz thirty minutes longer.

Really dumb point, but hear me out.

Have Dorothy get involved with the story; show her bonding with Tin Man, Scarecrow, and Lion, with Glinda, and have her learn about the Witch through others. It not only would be a great way to reenforce just how effective Oz's propaganda is, but you could also have a plot of kind, empathetic, and honest Dorothy learn the truth and be outraged by being used by the bullies instead of standing against them.

The Tin Man and Lion are vehemently against Elphaba, so you can have the three arguing over the bucket and Dorothy accidentally splashes the water to still have her 'kill' the Witch. An infuriated and distraught Dorothy confronts and demands the Wizard grant her and her friends' wishes, because otherwise it would have all been for naught. Maybe she learned from Elphaba that the Wizard is a fraud in some way, so she send Toto to find the real Oz behind all the fanfare to confirm that-once again-Elphaba was the only one truthful to Dorothy.

This would also help with the "I'll miss you the most" line she gives to Scarecrow, because if he was giving her hints throughout and trying to stop the Tin Man's wrath towards the Witch with Dorothy. I don't think Dorothy would be in on the faking Elphaba's death plan, but I could imagine the Scarecrow talking about the 'girl' he loves and hint at weather or not Dorothy figures out that Scarecrow's 'girl' and the Witch are the same.

Finally, you could include Dorothy in Glinda's dressing down of the Wizard and in a bit of development for Glinda. Dorothy tells Oz that he has to do something good in his life, that he has to help Dorothy after making her a part of his mess and having her kill the only person actually trying to do good.

With Glinda, Dorothy would act as a bit of a mirror and memory. Dorothy has Glinda's dreams and Elphaba's heart, Dorothy wants that somewhere over the rainbow but is not willing to sacrifice her family or the well being of others. You could have a scene before 'For Good' of Dorothy telling Glinda her values and Glinda remarking on how much Good-er of a Witch Dorothy would be, of how Dorothy is just like Elphaba in her morals and stubbornness. Glinda could even talk about her friend Elphaba without Dorothy realizing she means the Wicked Witch. Glinda would say how much she wishes she could be like her friend and Dorothy would tell her that she just needs to be the person her amazing friend saw her as. Then you have 'For Good' a scene or two later.

[itsabouttimex2]

Deep Sea Sympathies

Yandere Sun Wukong

(Syntax alphabet is up next, then an LSO + Primal . Feeling super down, so I wrote something a little sadder. The villain tiers post I spent two days writing and rewriting again and again got anonymously sent to another user, who skimmed the majority of it, left out my opening and ending points, and called at least one of my criticisms “ridiculous” and even has a reblogger claiming that I “hate Macaque”, that I want “everyone to hate Macaque” and that I’m “salty”. Maybe it’s childish, but that kind of hurts when I’ve spent literal months making content for the show (often involving Macaque) that I genuinely love. I only wrote that list because I wanted to give my honest opinions as a break from my usual content as I prepared to watch and write for Season Five. Maybe I’m in the wrong and my rant was just stupid? Do you guys want me to delete the “Season Five Prep” posts?)

“I still can’t believe MK got me back into this,” the simian before you chuckles. “But I’m kinda glad he did. I really missed drawing. I forgot how good it felt.”

“…I see,” you “answer”, maintaining a stiff and poised position, staring down at the collection of utensils that the hero is using. “Are you… having fun, then?”

“Aww, bud. Come and take a seat, okay? Look, I’ll even put out a little mat for you. Come and take a seat,” he invites, plucking one of his transforming ginger hairs to make a proper cushion for you.

His tail winds lazily around your leg, tugging you closer and closer to the squishy orange padding.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, cutting through your hesitation. His voice has a powerful edge under all the sweetness- reminding you that the Monkey King is someone you can’t say no to. “I want you to draw with me, kiddo.”

Wukong is fond of this- pulling you into little “bonding sessions” that take up the whole day and leave you without time to spend with anyone else.

It’s funny, though, really- you are the last person that need be manipulated away from others.

“The Great Witch of Gloom,” was the title that you had been assigned. Before you had a name, before you had taken a step, before you had so much as uttered a cry… your fate had been decided.

You were to be a wicked soul with dark motives and a darker heart.

As old memories flood into your ever weary mind, Wukong arranges a few sheets of paper in front your mat. The grip of his tail slowly tightens, and you cease all stalling.

Lowering yourself to the ground, the mat provides a cozy cradle to shield against the cold wooden floor.

“…it’s almost Winter,” you mildly comment, tracing a finger against a smooth plank. “It’s getting colder.”

“Oh,” the simian casually asks, scooting his mat closer to yours, “you like the snow?” Here’s chance he always adores- any rare tidbit of info you offer is a chance for him to spoil you, stocking up on presents and snacks in an attempt to drown you in platonic love.

It didn’t help that you always felt so indebted after he was done stacking gifts into your arms and bag.

“So, bud- what’re you gonna draw?”

The curiosity in his voice is almost innocent, almost sweet. He pushes the multi-tiered box of crayons towards you, smiling.

“C’mon, pick a few out!”

Awkwardly; and with a shaking hand to boot, you reach for the box.

It’s… not a comfortable sensation. Waxy paper around thick wax sticks makes for an awkward feeling in your hand, and you slightly recoil from the hueless cylinder.

“Aww, kiddo. No one draws with white- heck, you’d be better off eating it! Not that I’ve, uh, ever done that.”

“…I don’t know what to do,” is your blank confession that leaves Wukong quirking an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t know how to draw? You’vd never had… oh. Oh, kiddo.”

Realization colors his golden eyes, leaving the simian king with a sympathetic frown. Your parents wouldn’t have ever let you have something as fun and bright as crayons, would they? How could he have forgotten that?

It had been a nightmare for the Monkie Kids to pry information out of you, and a further mess to try pushing you towards a healing state.

And, honestly- Wukong’s doting ministrations really didn’t help. All the love and gifts in the world could not undo your traumas- but certainly left you feeling as though you were mired in debt.

Not that you had the words to voice those feelings, leaving Wukong to continue piling on with his affections- all in the futile hope that he could love away the demons of your past.

“Okay, bud. Maybe we stepped out of your comfort zone, huh? Alright, my bad. Tell me what you wanna draw, and I’ll pick out the crayons for you, okay?”

“…I don’t know what to draw, though.”

His frown deepens. It’s hard to think that someone as young as you could be so… he wouldn’t say broken. That was far, far too cruel a word for someone he loved so dearly. You were… “cracked”, maybe. A little “tarnished”.

Like you had given up on seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and decided to instead drift slowly along in a dark ocean.

…actually…

“Bud, don’t you like the beach? C’mon, why don’t you draw something from there, yeah?”

“…could I?”

Your little words break his heart. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need permission for something as simple as drawing a damn picture. But you *do*, so he answers with false cheer-

“Of course, kiddo! Draw anything you want!”

“…how do… how would I draw… a jellyfish?”

Finally, a real smile graces his lips.

“I didn’t know you liked jellyfish,” he says, in a too familiar voice that lets you know you’ll be receiving a loaded armful of themed plushes and stress toys in the very near future.

Another load of guilt, another load of debt.

“I’ll take you to an aquarium one day,” he tacks on, unaware of your growing insecurities. “And we can look at them together.”

To him, this is healing. Love and affection and unending comfort.

And certainly, Wukong is far better a guardian than your parents were. Instead of blaming you for powers you couldn’t control, he was always ready with praise and applause. Instead of resigning yourself to rotted garments rummaged from the trash, you had brand-new clothes and warm shoes. You were never hungry. You were never bored. You were never alone.

And, above all else- you were loved.

But you were not happy.

And you doubted that would ever change.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: it had been settled. everything had gone to shit and then everyone had had front row seats to watch how that'd happened. back in the theater, no one had known what to say, how to describe what they'd seen, how to reconcile that whoever had been behind the circumstances haunting Split River High could've been anyone.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.27

"Love this for me."

Charley scanned the area, confused, disoriented, nervous. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he shuddered, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he began to trek in the direction he hoped would take him back to civilization.

This wasn't how he imagined finally being free from the school. Lost in the middle of nowhere, dense trees as far as the eye could see. There weren't many wooded areas around Split River. A couple of parcels here and there, wilderness parks, but not like this, and he had to wonder if the forest was actually native to the land.

Finally, he found a trodden path in the dirt and decided to follow it. What did he have to lose? There was no danger. He couldn't die twice. Food, sleep, shelter weren't required despite he and the others keeping up those habits in the afterlife at Mr. Martin's guidance. Still, what you'd mentioned on the rooftop the night before—about how your great aunt or your mother could blast his soul into oblivion—made Charley paranoid.

What if he'd landed here just for an evil witch to use his ghost for some nefarious plan to make her young and beautiful again? He'd seen Hocus Pocus. And it didn't matter that he was technically too old for that spell to work. He was stuck at 17 until he moved on and he wasn't keen on having a wicked witch absorb him for the sake of vanity.

Which, okay, Charley reasoned, sounded ridiculous, but one couldn't blame him. After a tornado had manifested in the theater and he'd been transported to some creepy, dark forest alone; he wasn't going to criticize himself for the insane theories his brain churned out.

He followed the path until it brought him to a winding, unpaved road. Turning left, he trailed down the edge of it for what felt like hours. It'd started raining halfway through his journey to wherever the hell, and night had fallen before the road widened into a bare plot of land stretched in front of a dilapidated farmhouse, its shadow a fanged monster raking toward Charley's ankles.

"Oh, that's not freaky at all." Charley muttered, quickly glancing over his shoulder and debating whether or not to go back the way he'd come. The darkness blurring the unpaved road seemed to push toward him as if discouraging him from turning around. He groaned in despair, "I hate everything about this," wanting the universe to take pity on him and return him to—God help him—the safe and familiar halls of Split River High.

It was Movie Night, he winged internally, and Wally had agreed (with conditions) to watch Ghost—shut up—and Katelynn and Bernadette were in charge of snacks which meant there'd be a smorgasbord of good options because Mr. Martin always filled the table with carrot sticks and his homemade tuna salad ("Just like my mother's! Doesn't it taste like home?"—"Why is it encased in jell-o?"—the 50s were a heinous decade, Charley thought, green around the gills at the memory).

Today was supposed to be a good day. A day of progress. A day of togetherness. He and Rhonda and Wally, and now Maddie, a united front against the mystery of Maddie's.....well, not "death", Charley supposed, because you'd debunked that. But against the mystery of Maddie's situation, nonetheless. Except he was here, wet and cold and lost; an Addams Family-esque farmhouse towering in front of him like a bad omen and no one to turn to for answers.

"It can't get worse," Charley sighed, about to ascend the first of the front steps.

As his foot set down on the wood, the screen door creaked and someone emerged, using their back to push the door open so they could exit. When they turned around, Charley nearly jumped for joy. He knew that face! That was your face! Your face... Charley reeled back. Your face was coated in blood. You were coated in blood. Hair, hands, jeans.

"What happened!?" He questioned, pitching toward you to scan you for injuries. You didn't seem to be in any pain, not favoring a leg or curling over a gut wound. Beneath the thin red film on your face, Charley couldn't spot a gash, a cut, a scrape, nothing. He panned to the front door, speculating in startled flashes what lay beyond it. The color drained from his face as he thought about it and he decided, no thanks, he didn't want—didn't need—to know.

The most unnerving part, however, wasn't the Evil Dead amount of blood on you. It was how your eyes stared ahead, completely blank; the same dissociative gaze Charley had witnessed on Emilio's face in the wake of Charley's death. Like Emilio's mind had evaporated while his brain repressed every bad thing that'd ever happened just to keep him upright.

Charley wanted to ask if you were okay but the words lodged in his throat when he finally noticed that you had something—someone—bundled in your arms. Small, child-sized (probably because it was a child, Charley, he chided himself), wearing Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. A queasy sensation flushed through him as he watched you fumble down the stairs, gaze fixed ahead, arms fastened around the little body.

When Charley shifted to follow you, the screen door creaked again then slammed closed. Another person hurried out, clomping down the steps to chase after you. Small. Child-sized. Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. Charley's expression twisted with sorrow. He bit the inside of his lip as he turned and walked beside the little boy who contemplated his boots as he squelched through the mud.

"Where are we going?" The little boy asked you, stomping into and out of a puddle.

You answered, "I'm taking you home," your voice light as a feather and far, far away.

"Will mommy be mad at me?" The little boy paused, big green eyes on your back, worried that he'd be in trouble for...for what? Charley couldn't discern. For dying?

"No." You said, dragged your feet with effort, your Converse not made for soft, sinking ground. "She'll know what to do. She'll make it all better, Aiden, I swear." On the last word, your voice cracked, but your face didn't change, your gaze still distant.

Charley kept pace with the little boy, Aiden, until you came to the end of the unpaved road. You were shaking, probably freezing, soaked to the bone and in shock. The unpaved road intersected a tarred section of old, narrow highway, a rusted mailbox keeping vigil in the tall grass that lined the shoulder. Part of the name was scraped away by time and weather. Still, Charley could make it out: Meheive. A name Charley had had hammered into his skull in Grade 7 History. The name of one of the four industry men who'd founded Split River in 1850.

"Oh," He commented mildly, "It gets freakier. Fantastic." Then, as he lifted his foot to continue after you, he simply couldn't. He tried again, again, again, walked in place as if on a treadmill while an invisible force kept him at bay. "Never mind," He gulped, "Now it's freakier." At least he wasn't being shot back to the cafeteria at speed, he mused glumly when he took the time to feel the identical vibrations he felt when he got too close to the one around the school.

Slanting his attention to the side, he saw Aiden standing alone, face pinched, lower lip trembling and eyes filled with tears. "Sissy May, wait... I can't follow you..." He stuttered several breaths, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Sissy May!"

You didn't turn around. "It'll be okay, Aiden. Mom will fix it. She'll know what to do." Charley heard you murmur, dreamlike, detached, as you began to walk along the shoulder of the highway, adjusting Aiden's weight in your arms. "She'll fix it..."

Charley came up beside Aiden, watching you blend into the dark the further away you got. Aiden sniffled, squeaked before he coughed out a sob. He craned his neck to look up at Charley in devastation. Briefly, Charley was surprised though that settled into sympathy the longer Aiden blinked those green eyes up at him.

"I don't want to be alone," Aiden whimpered and took Charley's hand, his grip limp, his fingers tiny.

There was nothing to say to that. Charley didn't want Aiden to be alone either, and if he had to stay with Aiden for eternity, he would. He knelt down and pulled Aiden into a hug, his voice wet as he said, "You aren't alone, buddy," the way he would've comforted his younger cousin, Luca.

Unfortunately, the moment the words slipped out of him, Charley was snatched away and dragged through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Where Charley couldn't follow, Ajay did. Down the shoulder of the unlit highway, stomach rolling as he observed how you swayed and stumbled as you pressed onward, Aiden's dead weight becoming more and more difficult to manage. A car had stopped, a woman had called out to you, and Ajay had heard her on the phone with the police, asking for help.

It was as if you hadn't heard her. Ajay doubted you had, the state you were in, mumbling gentle promises to your brother as you carried him home. "Mom will know what to do, Aiden..."

Twenty minutes came and went before an ambulance and two squad cars screeched to a halt meters in front of you, lights flashing, red blue, red blue, red blue. When the EMTs tried to take Aiden from you, you put up a fight; kicked, gnashed, snarled, screamed. Not words, just noise, like a provoked animal. Deputy Baxter managed to get you in a submissive hold so an EMT could sedate you before he helped settle you into a stretcher. Strapped you in, just in case, the corners of his mouth severely turned down and his eyes shuttered to conceal the heartbreak Ajay had caught a glimmer of.

"Take them to St. Vincent's." Deputy Baxter instructed the ambulance driver. "I'll call their mother." He moved on to order the second unit that'd arrived with him to follow the ambulance, that he would check the road, "For anything that'll tell us what the hell happened here."

"Noah, are you sure you want to do it alone? If someone's responsible, they could still be out there. They could be armed." Deputy Hayes voiced her concern through the passenger-side window. She was new, too new to understand a protocol had been established between Deputy Baxter and Sheriff Stallow when it came to your family. A grandfathered in whatever it takes that often involved doing things off-book.

Deputy Baxter shook his head and reassured, "I'm just going to see what I can find along the road. If anything comes up, I'll call it in." He straightened and peered down the highway in the direction you'd obviously come from, a deep-seated foreboding frosting beneath his skin.

He was at a crossroads, his gut told him. Something terrible waited for him in the dark and whatever choice he made to deal with it would change his life forever. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He just prayed to God that he'd still be able to be there for his own little boy in the after. That he'd have the chance to hug Xavier and tell him the world might not be safe, but his dad will always be there to protect him.

In the side mirror of his vehicle, Deputy Baxter stared at the retreating image of the ambulance and squad car as they blared down the highway toward the town. Once the sound of the sirens faded, he shifted the gear into drive, gravel crunching under the tires, and he drove to the only building in the area for miles.

Once Deputy Baxter was gone, Ajay vanished through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question Five.

Does the Monster die?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon's eyes flew open and he jolted upright, waking abruptly in a cold sweat. The sky was dark outside his window, his room pitched black, and his mom was tugging at his shirt. He barely registered her words, you told the police you'd return the phone tonight, get up, as she fussed over him, fuming, lecturing him in Tagalog as she switched on the overhead light and pinned him with a strict expression.

He scrubbed his face to wake himself up. Dragged his hands through his hair, eyes drifting to his closet. He could've sworn... Hadn't there been...? The door was open and, apart from the two rails of clothes and the shoe rack, it was empty.

"Hurry up, iho! Before your father gets home." His mom commanded before she turned on her heel and left the room.

In English, Simon responded, "I'm going, I'm going..." and rose from his bed. He felt weak, exhausted despite having apparently slept through the day. Again, his gaze settled on his closet as if the person who'd been crying in there had just tucked themselves in the corner and would pop out any second now that the coast was clear.

But nothing happened.

Taking a deep breath, Simon stood and treaded to his closet. Just to make sure; just to see if it had really all been a dream. There was nothing inside to indicate anyone had been hiding there. No displaced clothes to suggest Simon had shoved them aside to get a better look at the little boy who'd quivered beside the shoe rack. No puddle from the rain that had dripped from the little boy's hair and Spiderman rainboots. No scuff marks in the carpet. No mud. No little boy.

"She's gonna hurt him," The little boy wailed into Simon's hip. "She's gonna take him and she's gonna hurt Sissy!"

Simon tripped backward, away from the closet, breath suddenly ragged as the memory flooded his mind. Because it had to be that. A memory. He'd had vivid dreams before, but never like that. He could still feel the little boy's tight grip around his waist, could still feel the wet and cold of the little boy's body through his Looney Tunes sweater when Simon had instinctually returned the embrace.

"She wants t'take them!" The little boy sniffed thickly, "You gotta help! You can't let her!" And then he added as if he'd been reprimanded enough times by his mommy, imploring "Pleeease!"

"Who are you talking about?" Simon asked. Leaned back and crouched so he was eye-level with the little boy, his hands holding the little boy's boney shoulders, "Who's going to get hurt?"

Simon grabbed his sweater and his car keys, calling out, "I'll be back soon," to his mother who'd installed herself in front of Wheel of Fortune. He had to get to the school. He had to see Maddie. To tell her what he'd dreamt or prophesized or hallucinated because, guess what, he'd apparently graduated from unwitting medium to Nostradamus.

As he trotted down the front walkway, he checked his phone. 7 missed calls from Nicole. 2 missed calls from Mathilda. 3 texts from Nicole asking the same question—are you okay?—and a novel from Mathilda that detailed the lessons he'd missed and what he'd have to make up over the weekend, but don't worry, I'll help you. And 1 text from you. Short and sweet, sent that morning just after Simon had returned home from the police station.

"We found something to get Mr. A. I'll meet you at the bus stop when you get here."

Simon hoped it wasn't too late. That you'd stayed behind to wait for him even though he hadn't answered you. Unlikely, but he tried to remain optimistic, even as he took a moment to collect himself once behind the wheel of his car. That dream...it lingered like a bruise.

The little boy's voice stuttered through rough breaths, "Sh-she said because M-Maddie's gone, she needs s-someone else now and that she still wants Sissy. But she can't do it w-without trapping more people."

Simon started the car and pulled into the road.

"What do you mean, 'gone'? You mean because Maddie died?" Simon pushed, but the little boy wasn't listening, sobbing about 'him' and 'Sissy' and how they were in danger. Simon grabbed the little boy's face between his palms, soft but firm, and god, his cheeks were so cold. He looked the boy straight in the eye, "What can't 'she' do without trapping more people?"

He rolled down the window to let the fresh air soothe his anxiety.

Eventually, the little boy quieted though tears continued to stream down his face, "She can't have a new body." He said in a little voice. "Now she needs more people because Maddie got away."

And what the gentlest fuck did that mean?

Simon still didn't know who the 'Sissy' and 'him' were that the little boy had referred to. The little boy had been too distressed to divulge their names, talking as if Simon should already know everything. Just 'Sissy' and 'him'. 'Sissy' and 'him' and Maddie and someone named Janet. Did Simon know a Janet? He wracked his brain, trying to summon the names of everyone in his class who could have a connection to Maddie's death. There was a Jessica and a Jennifer and a Jayden. No Janet.

Then there was the matter of 'she' wanting a new body. Because that was sane. And impossible. Right...? Fuck, what if Maddie's death had been some nutcase's idea of a ritual sacrifice. What if another teenage girl was about to be murdered because, lo and behold, magic isn't real and Maddie just died instead of ceding her body.

The devil on Simon's shoulder quipped, "But ghosts are real," which, fair. If ghosts were real, surely they weren't the only eldritch phenomenon to exist in the world. Maybe there were cursed mummies or body snatching aliens out there scheming to take over America via its youth. No child left behind. Jesus Christ. Simon was spiraling, brain spitting random images of every creature feature he'd ever seen at him. Had the little boy been trying to warn Simon about mummies? Aliens? Was. it. aliens!?

As he stopped at a pedestrian crosswalk, he stared—definitely too intensely—at the young woman who passed in front of his car. Like he could see straight to her bones and determine whether or not she was really human. The woman picked up her pace, shoulders up, head down, and folded her leather jacket tighter around her.

Don't be suspicious, Simon, he admonished himself, ashamed of his behavior, eyes darting to his lap until the woman was safely on the other side of the road. "What even is my life anymore?" He wallowed. Ghosts and Mystery Inc. side-quests and pinning crimes on teachers. He felt he'd lived a hundred lifetimes in the last week and was seriously considering becoming a hermit the minute Maddie moved on.

There wouldn't be much reason to stick around after that anyway...

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mina Volkov hadn't left the theater since 1987. She was a looper. She performed the same tasks every day, from morning to night to morning. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat—except for the paper bag lunch she'd brought with her the day she'd died. She didn't stray. Mina had to make sure that what had happened to her wouldn't happen to someone else.

There was safety in her loop. Not just for the living students she protected through her hard work, but for herself. Her loop allowed her mind to remain clear, focused entirely on the task at hand. She didn't have to think or reflect or question why her soul had lingered after being squashed by a stage light. Rhonda had called it denial when she'd visited Mina a week after Mina's death. Rhonda had been sizing Mina up, prodding and poking to see how Mina would react.

Mina had simply gone about her safety checks and Rhonda had eventually gotten bored. And had never come back.

Sometimes, her loop veered off-course. Sometimes Mr. Martin came to check on her. Just to say hi. Never to invite her to those stupid meetings he hosted in the gym. The ones Ajay attended and would tell Mina about later when they picnicked on the stage or between kisses in the green room.

She liked Ajay. He was kind and thoughtful, and he respected her loop. He didn't complain when she prioritized double-checking the lighting cables and tightening ropes and cordage for the dropdown scenery. He'd simply sit and talk to her. Recite poetry or passages from books she never intended to read. Ajay was smart. Ajay was handsome. Ajay was...

Ajay was comatose. Slumped on the floor along with the others, his face, like theirs, twisted in anguish. Whatever measures Mina used to wake him up didn't work and she had no idea how to help. But she knew she needed to. Not because New Girl had brought Mina flowers. Or because Hawaiian Shirt Man had caused her so many headaches since the start of the school year and they'd found something to make him stop banging around under the stage. But because Ajay needed Mina to be brave.

He needed help and she was going to help him. Which meant Mina had to leave the theater. She had to find Mr. Martin.

Though Ajay often thought Mina didn't listen when he spoke, he was wrong. She held onto every word like a treasure that she'd tuck away in her heart and savor in the moments she was alone. Mr. Martin took his privacy in the fallout shelter in the basement. Mina had been there before she'd died. Several times, in fact. It'd been an opening night ritual conducted an hour before curtain. The cast and crew piled downstairs and hid in the fallout shelter to pass around a spliff.

No, Mina hadn't partaken, much too responsible, but she'd wanted to participate in some way even if that was just being there. She'd wanted to feel like part of the group when she'd so often felt like an outsider the actors and other crew members made fun of, "for being so snooty and uptight, God, Mina, chill out."

Standing slowly, Mina regarded the theater door. Her heart slammed against her ribs, palms clammy as she tightened and loosened her fists. A comforting motion to calm her nerves as she stepped carefully to the door and placed her hand on the exit bar.

Mina hadn't left the theater since 1987. But today, she would.

For Ajay.

She spilled into the hall, the world spinning in her panic, and took off at speed to the other side of the school. Down two flights of stairs, through the door that led to the basement.

Most of the basement had been bricked off which had narrowed the hallway, making it feel like a catacomb. Poorly lit and spooky. The fallout shelter was at the far end, directly below the gym. Its vault door was open as Mr. Martin usually kept it. A practical solution given how regularly he had to come and go during office hours.

It hadn't been his idea originally. No. It'd been hers. The woman currently speaking through the janitor's mouth as she stared Mr. Martin down.

"I've had someone canvas the area and several others every night since that traitorous little bitch escaped." Mr. South stated, "There's no sign of her."

Helplessly, Mr. Martin explained for the second time, "I don't know what you want me to do, Amelia. I've done everything you asked me. I'm doing what I can to keep the kids present, like you said, and I need to concentrate on that. I've already noticed a shift in sentient ones since Maddie joined us."

Mr. South—Amelia—snarled, "I'm not asking you to participate in a search and seize, Everett. I simply want you to tell me where that conniving piece of shit would have gone! She confided in you, you told me that. So, tell. me. where she's most likely to go!"

Mr. Martin shook his head, a cowardly expression miring his face, "I've told you everything I know, Amelia, please. I've given you her notes, her journal. Every piece of information I had is already in your hands."

Quite unexpectedly, a frightened voice interrupted from the vault door, "Mr. Martin?"

Mr. Martin whipped his head to the side, his eyes going wide in panic when he saw Mina stood just over the threshold, inside the fallout shelter. She looked ashen. Scared. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her brown eyes slid away from Mr. Martin's face to rest on Mr. South for a second before returning to Mr. Martin.

Mr. Martin swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, anything to explain why he was mid-conversation with the live and well school janitor, when suddenly it didn't matter anymore. Mr. Martin choked as he watched Mina glance down her body. Her chest seared like paper in a candle flame. She looked back up, fear contorting into betrayal, before she quietly burned away into oblivion.

Unable to reconcile what he'd witnessed, Mr. Martin merely stared at the spot Mina had just been standing, expression slack in horror. His chest rose and fell heavily, "Why?" he rasped, and it took every ounce of self-preservation not to lash out.

Behind him, Amelia lowered Mr. South's hand, scoffing, "Oh, don't look so sad, Everett. She didn't feel a thing," but Mr. Martin didn't believe it. Still, he was too intimidated to argue. He knew what Amelia was capable of and he didn't want to be on the wrong end of her wrath.

Virtuously, Amelia commented, "You'll have to find me another to replace that one. So, two more, I suppose,. And we need someone to step in for Janet," breezy, as if she'd killed nothing more than a house fly. "And soon. We can't have any more delays." In Mr. South's lumbering body, she picked across the floor like a debutante, "Time is running out." She finished, already out the vault door and returning Mr. South's body to the storage room Mr. South used as his office.

Alone in the fallout shelter, Mr. Martin buckled to his knees.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Operating with half his mind still on aliens and mummies, Simon waited in the bus shelter. He was grateful you hadn't left, had responded to the text he'd sent when he'd arrived at the school: "See you in 5," you'd told him. At the metal crack of the side entrance opening, Simon stood up from the bench and faced the school. He frowned when he saw who emerged.

Steps uneven, Xavier exited the school. He stopped when he noticed Simon, stood still like a deer in headlights. Damn, Xavier looked like his whole world had been turned upside down. More so than it already had been, that was. Pale and bug eyed and jittery. They watched each other for a moment. Simon nodded his head in greeting. Xavier didn't return the gesture.

Instead, he lifted the hood of his sweater and turned toward the parking lot, skulking off with his head down. A minute or so later, the door opened again and this time it was you. And Maddie. Together. Followed by a tall guy in a varsity jacket, a girl in a newsboy cap, and a boy with frosted tips wearing a Canadian tuxedo. The trio of strangers stayed by the door to watch as you and Maddie—together—approached Simon.

When you and Maddie were within earshot, Simon said, "Okay. What the hell is this?"

You at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"So you can see ghosts." Simon stated, irritated.

"So can you." You shot back, but it didn't sound like your heart was in it. In fact, you looked just as rattled as Xavier had when he'd come out of the school.

Although he wanted to chew you out for having lied to him, Simon wanted to make sure, "Are you alright?" His demeanor softened as he took you in. Puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, red nose. You'd been crying. And Simon would never be angry enough to let that trump being there for a friend who needed him. He bundled you into a hug, one hand rubbing your back, and asked Maddie with his eyes what was wrong.

In his periphery, he saw Varsity straighten and move to take a step forward. His friends each grabbed an arm and appeared to shut whatever idea he'd had down because he shifted back before shaking them off.

Urgently, Maddie told Simon they'd discuss everything, "Later," and ushered him back into the bus shelter. He kept an arm slung around your shoulders, a shoulder to lean on, though had to release you when you decided to lean against the interior glass. Simon took what was becoming his usual seat on the concrete base and Maddie folded herself onto the bench.

When neither you nor Maddie spoke, Simon took the lead, "Mr. Anderson totally played us," he began, glancing between you and Maddie. "I mean, the cops are convinced I helped Maddie run away."

Maddie immediately defended, "Seriously? That's—"

"I know. They only let me come back here because I promised I'd get Anderson's phone and turn it in."

You cleared your throat, "Okay, well, before you do that..."

Maddie continued where you trailed off, "I think we might've found something that can help maybe keep the cops off your back." She fished something out of her back pocket and handed it to you which you, in turn, handed to Simon.

Stunned, Simon gawked at the piece of paper, eyes darting between it, you, and Maddie several times before finally resting on the paper. "We're just...not going to acknowledge how insane this is?" He sputtered, flapping the paper to indicate what he meant.

"Just go with it for now, Si." Maddie implored, "Let's take down Mr. Anderson first."

"Yeah," Simon agreed and examined the paper. It was a receipt for new band uniforms. He pulled out his phone when Maddie informed him he'd have to call the company the receipt was from and punched in the number. As the line connected, Simon cast to the three people at the school entrance. "Quick question, and not to alarm anyone, but who are they?" He asked as he waited for someone to answer the phone.

You and Maddie looked to the three people then at each other, Simon, the three people, each other, and ended with open-mouthed stares at Simon.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Simon deadpanned. You and Maddie nodded. Simon kissed his teeth. "Of course they are."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

After all was said and done, Simon had watched Wally—the tallest of the three ghosts Simon had seen outside—drape his varsity jacket over your shoulders and stamp a kiss to your head. Simon had seen Wally hold you protectively in the wake of Simon's impassioned announcement to the table of Split River High staff.

He'd heard Wally whisper comforting words and stroke your cheek with his thumb and, wow, you hadn't been joking about saving yourself for the hot ghost on campus.

It was a mindfuck, to be sure, but Simon adjusted. Or he was in shock. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. Wally had mentioned to the group at large as they huddled in the hallway that he and Charley—Canadian tuxedo—had needed to go lest Mr. Martin—whoever that was—get suspicious of their absence at Movie Night. Which could've been dead dove, do not eat, or could've been ghost code for watching the living go to the bathroom.

"Dude, we don't do that." Wally had cringed, offended.

Charley had raised his brows in consideration, "Well, not all of us."

Simon was beginning to double-down on putting together a personal bestiary à la Teen Wolf just to aid him in navigating this shitshow.

Afterward, you, Simon, and Maddie had holed away in a classroom to watch Mr. Anderson be escorted into the back of a squad car. In a line at the window. Discussing in solemn tones what you and Maddie had seen in the theater. How it related to Mr. Anderson. How whoever was behind Maddie's death—no, not death, Simon emended, since you'd brought him up to speed. How whoever was behind Maddie's missing body could be literally anyone. That was if Maddie's circumstances were related to the terrors you and she had experienced in the theater earlier.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Maddie asked faintly as she watched the deputy close the back door of the squad car.

"He'll be questioned," Simon said. "Probably arrested."

Angry, Maddie replied, "But not for abduction. Not for bodily injury." A weighted pause. "I swear to God, if he did this to me over some stupid band uniforms..."

His voice tinged with hope, "Maybe he'll confess."

"Or," Maddie offered the alternative, "You'll hand that phone over to the cops and we'll never know who he was working with. Or why he said he gave me money... I'll never know what really happened to me."

Maddie turned. As soon as she settled against the windowsill, you shuffled closer to her and put a supportive arm around her shoulders. Fuck if that didn't make Simon's heart ache. He wanted so badly to be the one to do that for her. To be there for her. To comfort her.

"We'll figure it out, Mads." You reassured, though you still looked haunted.

"At least for now," Maddie said, gazing up at Simon, "some of the heat will be off you."

Her words struck Simon's soul. After everything she'd been through, she cared about what happened to him, and it made him yearn to show her how much that meant to him. Seeing you in Wally's varsity jacket gave him an idea. Slowly, he peeled off his sweater and hung it over the back of a chair. It wasn't enough, but at least he could do this.

"What are you doing?" Maddie asked.

Voice rough with emotion, Simon said, "I was thinking... I can't hug you, but my sweater can."

You hopped down from the windowsill and positioned yourself between Maddie and Simon, voice pitched just as low as Simon's as if not wanting to disturb the somber atmosphere that had befallen the classroom.

"I can do you one better." You said with a small smile and placed one hand on Maddie's shoulder. Your held out your other hand to Simon which he took, curious as to what you were going to do. It seemed Maddie knew because she came closer and then—god—she wrapped her arms around Simon and held him tight.

Without a second thought, Simon returned her embrace with his free arm, putting everything he had into it. All the grief, all the solace, all the love. He hiccupped a weak sound of overwhelm and pulled Maddie as close to himself as he could. She felt warm. Alive. Like she was right there in her body.

With wet eyes, Simon peeked up at you, "Thank you."

"You're my friend, Simon." You said easily, "I'd do anything for you in a heartbeat."

He dragged you into the hug; you and he and Maddie holding each other, leaning on each other, needing each other. And for that small segment of time, the weight of the world didn't feel so heavy.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mr. Martin was surprised when Rhonda marched into the gym and pulled up a seat. It wasn't the first unusual thing Mr. Martin had noticed of his Support Group that night, though.

Something felt off. Ajay had been morose when he'd entered, but Bernadette and Katelynn had puppy piled him on the stack of gym mats and were comforting him with cuddles. Always upbeat and charismatic Wally had been reserved until halfway through the film. Perhaps he was truly taken by Demi Moore's performance, though Mr. Martin suspected there was more to it.

Charley hadn't made any sarcastic comebacks to Mr. Martin's purposefully cheesy jokes about the film before Mr. Martin had started it, either. Keeping an eye on Charley and Wally, Mr. Martin had entertained the idea that the two had had a falling out. Teenagers were fickle beings. Even those in their forties and fifties.

Of course, Mr. Martin could be seeing things that weren't there. Reading too much into every small shift in behavior because he'd been on edge since Amelia's impromptu visit. A shiver ran through him, cold as ice, as he recalled what he'd witnessed and what he'd been ordered to do.

Banishing the memory, he forced a smile to his face, "Rhonda. You usually boycott movie night."

Rhonda stiffened in her seat, gaze fixed determinedly on the screen even if it seemed to go against everything she believed in to do it.

"Is everything alright?" Mr. Martin probed when she didn't say anything. His first priority was always his students' wellbeing, no matter what Amelia felt about it.

Rhonda took her time to answer, but eventually, "I've been here for sixty years. Sixty graduations," She explained, jaw tense, as if her words were being forced out of her. Rhonda rarely shared and, when she did, she'd smother the sentiment beneath myriad barbed wire remarks and threatening stares so no one would examine what she'd revealed too closely.

As Rhonda disclosed what had motivated her to join Movie Night, Mr. Martin heard Amelia's voice in his head, "we need someone to step in for Janet."

"—I've made my peace with it because nothing changes...but now..." Mr. Martin listened, giving Rhonda his full, undivided attention. Rhonda didn't elaborate on how her views had shifted, rather redirecting to claim, "I know I'm not always a joiner but," her voice was raw, "I gotta get outta here."

She was outright doing her damnedest to hold back tears and it shook Mr. Martin to his core. The sight made Mina's image flash in his mind, the pain and fear in her eyes as she'd silently begged Mr. Martin to help her before being disintegrated into nothingness.

When Rhonda admitted, "I'm willing to try anything," Mr. Martin was brought back to the present, Mina fading from his mind. What Rhonda said next made his smile falter, a pang of regret in his heart. There was nothing else for it, his hand forced, because everything was easier when the participants were willing. But Rhonda needed to say it right. She needed to mean it without Mr. Martin's direct interference.

And, just like that, she did.

He ignored how his gut wrenched as he heard Rhonda speak into the air, "So, whatever you did to help Janet, I want in."

Mr. Martin felt Rhonda's words vibrate through the veil, the gears shifting as the pieces on Amelia's board were recast.

Mr. Martin forced another smile. However, turning back to the screen, his smile faded completely as Mina's final moments crowded his mind again. The fear. The helplessness. One of his students...gone. His conscience kicked and screamed and berated him. Challenged him. Brought his face right up to the hundreds of mistakes he'd made leading up to Mina's permanent erasure from this earth.

He'd had no choice, a milder, more detached part of him reminded, and it's too late to undo what'd already been done. There was no going back.

All Mr. Martin could do now was offer Rhonda his bowl of popcorn and tell her, "I'm glad to hear it."

💀___________fin.____________

PART TWENTY-SIX - OCTOBER MOON

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 8

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: The Inner Circle prepares for war. Y/n and Azriel grow closer, and a shocking revelation unfolds on the battlefield.

Word Count: 3K.

“I was wondering when you’d finally arrive” Rhys’s first words greeted Azriel and Y/n as they returned.

“What did we miss?” Y/n asked, half-jokingly.

“Azriel missed nothing. I kept him updated. You, on the other hand, missed a lot” Rhys taunted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/n looked between the two males, her playful tone replaced by a serious one, before directing her question to Azriel “What happened? And why did you not tell me?”.

“You can argue later. Right now you need to get ready. We’re leaving for Graysen’s estate in an hour” Rhys informed her, his tone brisk.

“Graysen? As in Elain fia- ex fiancé?” Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise.

“The one and only” Rhys confirmed.

“The fuck happened while I was gone?” Y/n demanded, exasperation in her voice.

“As I said, a lot. Now get ready, we don’t have time to waste” Rhys ordered, and this time Y/n obeyed, though only because it involved one of her sisters.

—

“Where is everyone?” Y/n asked as she descended the stairs, her dress rustling with each step.

“Waiting at the camp. You’re the last to get dressed” Rhys remarked, barely hiding a smirk.

“Forgive me for just finding out about what’s going on, or at least part of it, like fifteen minutes ago. Besides, it took time to find something suitable for the occasion” she retorted.

“You could’ve just worn pants”.

“I prefer my dresses. Besides, this one is practical. I made sure to choose the right one” she twirled around, showing him the practicality of the dress. The top was supple leather that formed a snug bodice, molded to her curve, while the skirt was made of a rugged yet supple fabric that flowed around, reaching her ankles. Lace-up heeled combat boots completed the look.

“And the heels?” Rhys raised an eyebrow.

“They’re chunky and very comfortable. And if I were to kick someone, it’d hurt more”.

“And running?”.

“Bold of you to assume I’d be able to run even in normal boots. In that area, I’m hopeless”.

“Shall we?” he shook his head before winnowing them out to the Illyrian camp.

As soon as they arrived, Y/n went to stand where her sisters and Mor were, a step behind the males. Rhys proceeded to give instructions, and Cassian added a few of his own. Azriel just stared down at them, his eyes full of hatred and disgust for his own kind, which did not go unnoticed by Y/n.

“So these are the female-hating pricks?” Y/n asked no one in particular.

“Yes, unfortunately” Mor answered, her voice laced with disdain.

After some time, one of the lords, Devlon, whom the three Illyrian warriors usually dealt with, noticed Nesta and asked if she was a witch. He wanted her to stay away from the females and children for some reason.

“She’ll do no such thing” Y/n took a step forward, but Feyre held her hand, warning her not to do anything reckless.

“Another witch?” Devlon questioned, his tone mocking.

“The most wicked one. The one who’d haunt your dreams and-”.

“Y/n, please” Feyre pleaded, and Y/n stopped from finishing the sentence.

Devlon glared at her and was about to say something when Rhys found another topic to discuss, allowing Feyre to guide her sisters to the war tent. From the looks of it, he had told Feyre down the bond to take them away before Y/n or Nesta said something that would offend Devlon or make him lose his temper. As much as Rhys would’ve loved to see them getting on Devlon’s nerves, now was not the time.

When they got to the tent, Nesta asked what the difference between Fae and witches was, and Mor explained to her that witches draw power beyond their natural reserve and use spells to get more power than the Cauldron granted.

“I think I want to be a witch” Y/n expressed nonchalantly, causing all four females to cast worried glances in her direction, their brows furrowed.

“What? Fae are no better. They enslaved humans, and when they were done, they just left them to starve, die, and fend for themselves. At least, as a witch, I’d be able to provide food for everyone” Y/n shrugged.

“Those powers come with a cost” Mor informed her.

“Like what? Sacrificing people? I’m fine with that. There’s a whole army outside I wouldn’t mind sacrificing. Theoretically speaking, if I were, I mean if a witch were to sacrifice a High Lord, for example, would she gain even more power?”.

“I don’t know if you’re joking right now or not. It’s scary” Mor remarked “but I suppose it would make sense since they possess more power”.

“Good to know. We can sacrifice your hideous ex first” Y/n turned to face Feyre.

“We’re not sacrificing anyone” Feyre stated firmly.

Y/n shrugged “hmph, speak for yourself”.

“Nice outfit” Cassian snorted at Y/n as he and his brothers joined the females.

“Fuck you” she quipped.

“Later. We have a war to prepare for, and I have an army to command” he winked at her.

“Ew” she gave him a disgusted look and feigned gagging.

“Did we miss anything?” Rhys asked Feyre.

“Nothing, just Y/n wanting to become a witch and sacrifice every Fae” Mor informed him.

“That’s not true. I might spare a couple” Y/n retorted.

Azriel bit back a chuckle and Rhys said “I suppose I’m not on the list of the people you’ll spare?”.

“Hmm, haven’t decided yet, but so far, no” she teased.

—

After winnowing into the mortal lands, Feyre briefly explained what happened and the reason Elain was going to see her ex was to convince him to give sanctuary to the humans who couldn’t flee.

When they arrived, Rhys put a shield around them for protection and glamoured Elain to look human. One of the guards guided them to the guardhouse, the farthest they’d be allowed.

When Graysen and his father entered, Elain became nervous and stuttered, but Nesta intervened, informing them that the walls were gone. At the sight of her pointed ear, Graysen questioned how that happened, and Nesta explained. He asked why Elain was in the company of Fae, and she told him she’s safer with them. When Elain begged them to open their home to humans seeking refuge, he noticed she was glamoured. 

Then Jurian appeared, the man who was at the King’s side when the sisters were turned. The man who put an arrow full of Faebane through Azriel’s chest. Y/n tensed at the sight of him but remained firmly standing, ready to jump on him at any minute.

He told them that he’d always been working for the humans and that he kept up the lies to gain more information on the King. He informed them that Tamlin went back to Hybern and that they plan to attack the Summer Court the next day. Azriel tapped Y/n’s shoulder, signaling her of his departure before disappearing to warn Cassian and tell them to move the legion.

Graysen was nothing but horrible to Elain the whole time they were there, and as much as Y/n wanted to interfere, she knew Elain wanted to sort this out herself. Their conversation wasn’t going well. Not only did he order her to take off her engagement ring, confirming that he wasn’t going to marry her, but he proceeded to insult her. When tears began streaming down Elain’s face, that’s when Y/n acted. She strode towards Graysen and slapped him across the face.

“You never deserved my sister, and if you ever speak to her like that again, I will kill you. The only reason you’re left breathing is because Elain cares about you, but insult her again and I will rip out your tongue” Y/n threatened, her eyes blazing with fury.

“You’re her eldest sister. I heard about you, about your hatred for Faekind, and now look at you, you’re one of them. Even threatening to kill humans” Graysen mocked.

“I was turned against my will, and my hatred still runs deep. It won’t change. But make no mistake, when it comes to my sisters, whether it’s Fae, human or any other kind of monster, I won’t hesitate” she turned away from him “I believe this concludes our business here”.

—

Unable to withstand seeing Elain crying any longer, Y/n left their tent and took a walk through the camp. It ate at her that there was nothing she could do to mend her sister’s broken heart, nothing she could do to help. She hated feeling helpless. 

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Azriel joining her until he spoke “You shouldn’t wander out here alone, especially not when you’re absent-minded” his voice was gentle but firm.

“I don’t think they’d dare do anything, not with your High Lord being here” Y/n replied, trying to mask her distress.

“Still it’s better to be safe than sorry” he insisted, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself… How are you feeling? Big day tomorrow” Y/n changed the subject, her voice tinged with concern.

“It’s not the first, and it won’t be the last battle I join” he responded, his tone neutral.

“Still, it must feel-”.

“Hard? It never gets easier, but I think about what and who I’m fighting for. It keeps me going” Azriel admitted, his eyes meeting hers.

“I never asked, but how are you feeling about being here? I know you don’t like your people. Today must have been difficult for you” Y/n observed, her brows furrowing in concern.

Azriel’s expression darkened “Dislike is an understatement. Honestly, it gets worse every time. To say I got used to it would be a lie”.

“It’s really a shame. You’d think as honorable warriors, they’d treat their females with respect at least… Are there others like you?”.

“Like me?” Azriel looked puzzled.

“Yes. Like you, your High Lord, and the General. You’re all Illyrians, yet you treat females like normal people… without discrimination. Are there other Illyrian warriors like that? Or are they all brutes?”.

“There are a few, but it’s very rare to see”.

“Back when we were at the Dawn Court, why didn’t you tell me about Elain and what they planned to do?”.

He seemed to contemplate before speaking again “You seemed happy. I didn’t want to ruin that, and it could wait. I knew if I told you, you’d have left immediately to be by Elain’s side. I knew what it meant to you to learn about how to make that powder, and I wanted you to do what you liked, what you enjoyed”.

“Why?” she genuinely did not understand why he was being considerate.

“War is coming and I thought you should be able to relax a bit before it got serious. We don’t know when things will get back to normal”.

“How very considerate of you” she said, half sarcastically, half seriously. 

“You should get some sleep” he advised.

“I should be the one saying this to you. You’re the one fighting tomorrow”.

“I don’t get much sleep before a battle” Azriel informed her, his jaw tightening.

“I won’t argue with you, but just this once” a serene smile graced her face and he couldn’t help but stare at her.

They walked in silence for a while before he finally inquired “How’s Elain?”.

“As can be expected. She’s heartbroken, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it” Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“It will get better. Give her time” Azriel reassured her, and all she did was nod. She hoped that his words were true, that Elain would get over Greysen soon and be happy.

“Where are your shadows? I don’t see them” she managed to change the subject again.

“They’re around, here and there. Don’t tell me you miss them?” his lips curled into a soft smile.

“I have grown accustomed to them. It might sound weird, but I don’t know, they give me a sense of peace and security” she declared.

“Oh? That’s exactly how I feel” he raised a brow, his face lighting up with amusement.

“Is that why you always stand in the corners where the shadows are?”.

“You’re quite observant” he gave her a proud smile, his eyes brimming with admiration.

“You’re not the only one who notices things others don’t”. 

As they walked through the camp, they almost forgot there was going to be a battle the next day. Being in each other’s presence often made them forget about the outside world, not that they often noticed.

It was getting late and Y/n was debating something, hesitant about. She opened her mouth to speak but then shut it again.

“Is something on your mind?” Azriel noticed her uneasiness.

“I- I got you something… when we were at the Dawn Court. This caught my eye and it reminded me of you. Something about it is just beautiful, and I didn’t want it to go to waste, so I got it for you” She opened her hand, revealing the black gemstone trinket. He reached out, his scarred fingers lightly touching hers as he took it. The smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by an unreadable expression.

“T- thank you. I don’t know what to say” his heart fluttered.

“You don’t have to say anything. The shop owner said it has protective properties, and while I don’t know if that’s true, just keep it on you tomorrow, will you?”.

“Are you worried about me?” he couldn’t hide his grin.

“Let’s just say I have a vast interest in keeping you alive”.

“And why is that?”.

“Well, for starters, to save me from your insufferable friends. You’re the only tolerable one. And to have someone to speak to occasionally while being locked up”.

He rolled his eyes at her last words “I’m not going to argue with you, but just this once” he repeated her earlier words to her.

“I should go now. Good night” she turned from him and started walking away before she halted and turned to face him again “and Shadowsinger? Good luck tomorrow”.

He kept watch on her until he made sure she arrived safely at her tent.

—

Y/n was pacing around in hers and her sisters’ tent when Feyre and Mor winnowed in. They informed them that they had won with little casualty before winnowing them to the battlefield. The place reeked of blood, and while the others waited for the tents to be rebuilt, Y/n went to offer assistance to the healers. 

When Rhys and Cassian returned, they were surprised to see her bandaging some of the warriors, her hands and clothes stained with their blood. When she exhausted all her energy, she came to sit by the fire, near Feyre. Nesta was bandaging Cassian’s wrist when he spoke “Did someone put a knife to your throat? Is that why you were patching up the wounded?” Cassian quipped, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t have the energy for you” Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples.

“It’s just I thought you hated our kind and now you’re volunteering to help”.

“It’s not out of the kindness of my heart, if that’s what you think. We still need every soldier for the war. The faster they’re healed, the better, and I happen to have some experience in that area”.

“As a healer?” Cassian raised his brow.

“Where I worked, there was an infirmary nearby. They were often short of healers, and I happened to have spare time on some days, so I learned the basics”.

“So you have a heart after all” his smirk grew wider, and she glared at him.

The days after went well, the soldiers were healing and resting up. On the fifth day, Azriel came panting and informed them that Hybern was planning to attack the Winter Court. That day they discussed for hours about what to do and ended up with deciding on marching north while remaining hidden but making Hybern think that they stayed here.

—

On the battlefield, both sides were exhausted, and casualties mounted on both sides. As heavy rain poured, more Hybern soldiers appeared and began slaughtering many of their forces. Their lines were breaking apart, and Cassian was trying to reform them as he was surrounded by the enemy. Azriel rushed to his aid but he had difficulty reaching him with all the soldiers. Both warriors were fighting relentlessly. 

Y/n, Nesta, Feyre and Mor were watching from above. If this continued, they were going to lose, and many more warriors were going to die. Feyre decided to go find the Suriel to ask where Hybern’s true army was hiding. 

Mor had left for the front lines and landed right next to Cassian, just in time to stop a soldier from driving a sword through his back. Cassian kept charging without waiting for the others to get to him, and Mor and Azriel took a few blows. 

With each blow, Y/n’s anxiety and fear rose. It was building up to become something explosive. She paced around next to Nesta, one hand to her mouth as she nervously bit her nails. She hated watching helplessly from above as many soldiers were being slaughtered, as the people she grew used to were being attacked and barely managing to evade each blow. 

Cassian engaged one of Hybern’s commanders, who managed to deliver a near-fatal blow, had Azriel not arrived in time to hold his guts in for him. Mor was fighting that commander when another one snuck up on Azriel and was about to lunge his sword into Azriel’s chest from behind.

At the sight, Y/n exploded “NO!” her eyes turned white, and with the heavy rain, lightning crackled and thunder boomed as if the very heavens had opened up. A power she hadn’t known she possessed surged forth in a wave of raw emotion and primal instinct. 

The air crackled with electricity as bolts of lightning lashed out uncontrollably, striking down Hybern soldiers with blinding force. As the storm raged on, draining her of energy, she collapsed, unconscious, the toll of her unbridled power too much to bear. 

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson

[mryoyo000]

Wicked book and musical: on Glinda (SPOILERS)

I waited a bit to write this until hopefully the Discourse™️ has settled a bit but I wanted to say something about Glinda in the novel “Wicked” vs. the musical/movie.

SPOILERS

One thing I’ve seen people talking about regarding the book vs. the show is expressing disappointment regarding Glinda as Maguire depicts her, versus how she is changed for the show. Glinda in the musical follows a fairly typical kind of character arc, beginning as the archetype of a superficial, popularity-obsessed rich girl, who grows in depth and maturity over the course of her life (kickstarted by her relationship with Elphaba) and by the end has become, if not the primary heroine of the musical (which is Elphaba), a character who we see has earned her title as the Good Witch.

I said this in my precious post, but again it bears repeating that “Wicked” the book and “Wicked” the movie have not only completely different target audiences but also completely different goals as stories. I’m not trying to criticize anyone who saw the show or movie first, and felt disappointed by the novel—or really anyone who didn’t care for the novel in general—but I think that some of the criticism the book has gotten recently, after the movie came out, doesn’t take into account that in many ways, the book and the musical are completely different works with the same character names and broad plot outline.

So I’ve seen some people expressing disappointment that in the book, Glinda “regresses”, that she’s racist, that she’s not actually a good person, etc. And I can definitely understand how this rubs people the wrong way—whether in comparison to the show or even just to the Oz books or the 1939 movie in general. Glinda in pop culture is about as synonymous with good as the Wicked Witch of the West is with evil, and seeing her depicted in such an unflattering way is probably not what a lot of people anticipate or necessarily enjoy reading.

(In my previous post I already addressed a different criticism, which is Glinda’s comparative lack of presence in the novel—she’s the POV during Elphaba’s time at Shiz and then largely fades out of the story before a final confrontation. I maintain my stance this is what works for the book, which saves Elphaba’s perspective for the end after showing us all of the people she’s lost first.)

But it is true that in the Maguire book, Glinda’s “goodness” is a cynical punchline for a character who, in her reunion with Elphaba, has become this:

[Glinda speaking] “‘Yes, I had been at an orphanage on the shores of Mossmere, and for a lark I thought I’d go to the game park—they have dragons there now, and I’d never seen a dragon—so I was scarcely a dozen miles away when the storm hit. We had terrible winds even there; I cannot imagine how a ceremony could have been in progress in Center Munch. In Mossmere there were whole sections of the park closed to visitors due to the fear of falling trees and escaping Animals—’ ‘Oh, so they call it a game park, with Animals?’ said the Witch. ‘You must go, dear, it’s a lark…’”

and this

“Glinda turned yellow-pink. ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘I was fond of Fiyero and he was a good man and a fine statesman. But among other things, you will remember he was dark-skinned…’”

Knowing about Elphaba’s history with Dr. Dillamond and general involvement with the cause of Animals makes Glinda’s casual mentions of Animals in game parks that she visits even more unpleasant. And while it is definitely indicated that Glinda was in love with Elphaba, I don’t think her comments about Fiyero here are some sort of deflection to hide her feelings about Elphaba—this would be overly convoluted and anyways Glinda could have denied the suggestion of an affair without making a racist comment.

Glinda here is an archetype that I think many people are familiar with especially in current discussions about society and politics: the idea of the supposedly “benevolent” elite, doing lots of public charity and good PR, while actually aligned with the forces of oppression out of convenience and material benefit. Elphaba explicitly calls her out on this:

“‘You are working in collusion with the Wizard to render Munchkinland ready for annexation,’ said the Witch. ‘You have no agenda of charity, Glinda. At least don’t fool yourself. Or are you really under some rusty spell of Madame Morrible, after all this time?’”

Glinda’s “goodness” in Maguire’s telling is the exact opposite of Elphaba’s “wickedness”—one is rewarded and praised for her participation in the Wizard’s regime where the other is ostracized and eventually treated as a criminal for her attempts to rebel and resist. The book “Wicked” is in some ways a story about failure, and while Elphaba’s lifelong failures are the focus of the story, Glinda adds to that thematic focus—she is yet another disappointment in Elphaba’s life (in addition to Nessarose, and Boq, and her father, and so on) and one that stings in particular because she could have been better. She was better, at one point. And Glinda has failed herself, too.

In the quote above, there is a nod to the suggestion that Glinda and Elphaba’s fate and even their actions as adults may have been influenced by Madame Morrible’s spell. But Glinda herself says to Elphaba: “‘I’m no pawn…you do have some choice.’” In that very same scene, in fact.

I can’t blame people who dislike the novel for being quite cynical and pessimistic in its outlook of humanity, but at the same time that cynicism is what drives a lot of the characterization. Glinda in the novel is not the friend to Elphaba or hero that she is in the musical, and she isn’t meant to be. Viewing the book primarily as a political satire, Glinda fits in well as a parody of a particular kind of figure, and it’s both intriguing (in my opinion) and controversial that Maguire uses a character so strongly associated with goodness to make that point.

[salty-we-never-got-mergana]

So rewatching "The Fires of Idirsholes", I realized the reason why it seems Merlin was out of character in killing Morgana was that when I first watched it I assumed Merlin felt he had no choice and had done the deed reluctantly justifying it as the greater good while still caring about Morgana.

Rewatching it the second time, I realized that in Merlin's point of view based on what the Dragon had said, Morgana had willingly been involved in the sleeping curse, at least according to the Dragon. Merlin does not have the knowledge that we, the audience, have that Morgana is ignorant and innocent in what is happening to those around her, but you can tell based on her expressions she seems to have an inkling that it might have to do with her. Much of her expressions throughout the sleeping crisis when she is with Arthur and Merlin is not only full of fear and horror, but also guilt. Horror that she might have unwittingly agreed to be part of a plot to help destroy her home due to her admission to Morgause that she would do anything to take Uther down, and guilt because this was her fault.

Whether Merlin recognizes her expressions or not, I'm unsure, but the moment the Dragon reveals Morgana's part, he automatically believes her guilty. The next scene has him looking at her with both anger, disdain, and suspicion. He responds to Morgana's genuine words of gratefulness for his friendship with coldness. I think she can feel his coldness, hence why she opens up to him in order to win back his trust that she must have sensed she lost without recognizing why. Perhaps due to the belief that her magic is protecting her or the fact that she's the magical person in the room in her own eyes, she felt Merlin was blaming her? Idk. Though deep down Morgana probably agrees since it seems to me she was having suspicions that the reason she wasn't affected like the others was due to Morgause and the fact she agreed to help Morgause take down Uther which she seemed to be regretting.

Merlin also notably abandons her when a knight almost tries to kill her, possibly hoping the knight would do the deed instead of he.

All of this points out that Merlin killing Morgana wasn't out of character. The moment he heard she was the source of the sleeping curse, that she was involved, was the moment he decided she was his enemy and that she had to die. And he was willing to let that happen. Their prior friendship didn't matter anymore. She was now the deceitful wicked and dangerous witch Kilgarrah claimed her to be and a danger to his destiny.

The only thing about Morgana he seems to feel is regret. In the end, when he was holding her as she was choking, he looked grief-stricken but also angry. I think he felt betrayed by Morgana for her actions and what she forced him to do but also sad and regretful that he had to kill someone he felt was similar to him. Someone who was once his friend.

Anyway, I guess that's why he never apologizes. In his mind, it was never his fault. She forced him to do it. He had no choice.

[eah-confessions]

I really wanted ever after high to have a wizard of OZ movie.

Oz is more interesting than wonderland

Sparkly red doll shoes would be nice

And as I am also a Harry potter fan, it would be nice to see witches and wizards in the ever after high series, if the wicked witch of the west had a son, he will look like a little green Snape 💚.

I will answer this one ask that involves Harry Potter, but after this one I won't. The author of those books is a racist transphobe that doesn't deserved to be platformed. If you choose to enjoy her books in private because you already gave her your money, fine. However, I will not be promoting any of her works ever. I am saying this as a former fan. We cannot just remove the author from the books because she is profiting off of all of the money that is made with that stuff. That is all I have to say on that.

I feel like Wonderland would be just as interesting. They just have not really explored all of the lore in Wonderland.

[niconebula]

I’m currently writing a college essay on the representation of Witches (and all Magical Girls) in Madoka Magica; I don’t know if I will be able to include this within the limits of the project so I wanted to share to Tumblr instead. It does not seem to be widely understood how much yonic imagery there is in the series and how important that is to the intended message.

For starters Kyubey is a walking uterus. The name of his species is literally Incubator (an enclosed apparatus providing a controlled environment for the care and protection of premature or unusually small babies; an apparatus used to hatch eggs or grow microorganisms under controlled conditions). He creates egg-shaped Soul Gems, and deposits the Grief Seeds back into his little receptacle. Why does he have such a weird design with two sets of ears? The lower ‘ears’ with the separated ends are actually modelled off of what Fallopian Tubes look like.

(Funny diagram but. It’s true! I’ll come back to this point at the end).

So then take this scene (thank god someone reuploaded it to YouTube):

“And you think a shit-for-brains hoe is going to be making that much in ten years? That body ain’t gonna last forever, you know.” “And then you dump ‘em, and they get all whiny!”

These two men are talking about the short term relationships they have with women, using them for their bodies and treating them like shit, and then dumping them immediately after - not understanding or caring as to how this upsets them.

It consistently baffles me how many people will completely throw out feminist readings of Madoka Magica. ‘Readings’ shouldn’t even be used - this is the main text of the goddamn show! You are free to argue that it failed at its message, or that the application was problematic, but for this scene in particular to fly over your head makes me discount opinions immediately.

Anyway, where have we heard this rhetoric before? “That body ain’t gonna last forever” - a young Magical Girl is always destined to turn into the Wicked Witch. “When you dump em’, they get all whiny!” - it is a Magical Girl at the peak of her despair who turns into a Witch, and Kyubey cannot and does not care for their human emotion.

The men cycle through their ‘hoes’ like Kyubey cycles through Magical Girls to get whatever his species supposedly needs to continue the universe.

I’m going to cut a break here for TW discussions of metaphorical rape and pregnancy involving minors, but this portion of the post is important.

Kyubey completely violates the concept of informed consent when he creates his magical girls - though he always argues that he did ask, and it’s in fact their fault (as fourteen year old girls) to not ask further questions.

Taking his form as a uterus alongside the yonic imagery of the show, it is implied that Kyubey has in some way ‘raped’ the girls. This is most evident in Sayaka’s arc; her insistence that becoming a Magical Girl has made her spoiled and that Kyousuke wouldn’t want to even kiss a girl like her.

Their transformations into witches further the idea that they have been ‘spoiled’, but also symbolize their transformation into adult women. Women who are ‘too adult’, and whose bodies are no longer attractive or useful to create babies anymore.

Goddess Madoka is even depicted as pregnant in the full Magia ending.

I feel like you could reason within all this symbolism that there’s a metaphor for specifically the coerced pregnancy and mothership of women. Something often considered the ‘ideal state’ for women and as you will see many conservatives argue, the necessary thing to continue society. In their minds, the subjugation of anyone they assign as women to these roles is necessary for society as they know it to continue for the imaginary people of the future who do not even exist yet.

Kyubey refers to the Magical Girls as cattle. He is there to help incubate and hatch the witch, and then throw the magical girl to the dust afterwards as she dies no longer useful. These girls are sacrifices to a far-off future that Kyubey promises them, he tells them that if no Magical Girls existed to hatch into Witches, humanity would not last long enough to see itself to the stars.

The incubator and his design, the soul gems and grief seeds, the pregnant madoka, the discussions about men liking their eggs a particular way by their homeroom teacher, it’s all very consistent. I’m not sure if my prospective readers have ever considered this within Madoka Magica - but try seeing it from this angle.

I didn’t find a way to work this into the post, but in addition: take the ancient myth of the wandering womb. This was the belief that so called over-emotional women were suffering from a condition where their uterus was moving in ways all across their bodies. It morphed into the more modern usage of female hysteria; hysteria coming from hystera- the Greek word for uterus. Kyubey thinks of the girls as constantly overreacting and overemotional. Hysterical.

[evendimmer]

Hey babe 😌 here to save you from your bored: What are your top 5 favourite Agatha fanfics?

Thank you love, for your ask and so kindly saving me from boredom.

When you say Agatha fanfics, I’m going to assume it’s any fanfic involving Agatha? Not just exclusively Agatha I hope because the list would be entirely different….

A few things you should know about me: I am a big sucker for Character x reader fics. There. I’ve said it. Call it self insert, self indulgence whatever you like but it is my guilty pleasure, and that’s the point of fanfics right? To enjoy and feel good?

Another thing is that I’m a huge consumer of smut. Pure shameless smut. Give it to me hot and filthy.

The last thing: I love Agatha and Rio equally. And you’ll see what I mean I in just a moment.

So if any of these things above aren’t for you, you can pretty much skip my whole list :’)

Anyway without further ado, here's my top 5 Agatha fanfics:

(Note: Click the titles below to start reading each fic)

5. Learning to Focus (w/ Part 2) by @covenofagatha

Pairing: GP!Professor!Agatha x Reader

"When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)"

I feel like I'm exposing myself with this one. There's something about cockwarming and being in control/losing control that makes this fic sooooooooooo fucking hot. The build-up and anticipation before getting absolutely destroy by none other than Professor Daddy Agatha? One of my go-to fics when I need to get uh sorted out.

3. Two Professors and a Student by @covenofagatha

Pairing: Professors!AgathaRio x Reader

"You run into your old professors Agatha and Rio at a bar, and will it lead to the start of something new?"

Yes I skipped a number. No it’s intentional, because the next two fics are TIED in third place.

Let’s be honest. Who hasn’t had a crush on their teacher or professor at least once in their school life? I did. More than once. This fic has it all - both Agatha and Rio as your ex-Professors (cuz school policies wink wink), getting down and dirty with you separately and together at the same time. Live out that college fantasy with this fic in the smuttiest way possible.

3. Neighbourly Care by @d-z20

Pairing: Milfs!AgathaRio x Reader

"You think the neighbours are MILFs and the evening is filled with flirting and then you get to be fucked by each of them and then by both of them."

What's better than a hot mommy? TWO married hot mommies that are both into you. Agatha and Rio taking care of you, with a little bit of friendly competition between them. As the author has stated, this fic is just "pure unadulterated smut" and nothing less. Best part? You're not the only brat or the only one getting punished ;)

2. Something Wicked by @motherconfessors

Pairing: Pre-Salem!Agatha x Rio

"While an apprentice witch, Agatha grows frustrated when she's not permitted to learn magic.

Until someone makes her an offer that she can't refuse."

This is the AgathaRio fic that I swear by, canon in my mind until we get actual explanation from season 2 if its happening. It explores the backstory of Agatha leading up to her Salem trials, and her meeting with a certain Green Witch™️. A fine balance between plot and smut. Great character depictions, superb lore building and filthy hot smut that hits just right.

1. Lights, Camera, Magic by @lunargrrrl

Pairing: Director!Agatha x Reader

"Agatha Harkness sits in the director's chair of some of your favourite movies. Your world suddenly turns upside down when you're invited to audition for her latest screenplay, 'Witching Hour'."

This one is a no brainer. My newest obsession. Ongoing smutty fic with 41 chapters now. Author is so good at building tension like it's not even funny anymore at this point it HURTS (just right though). Yes there is angst but there's also fluff and A LOT OF HOT FILTHY PURE SMUT. Tens of thousands words worth of smut. Like I've mentioned before, every chapter has a song to go with it and author has ✨excellent✨ taste in music.

oops looks like I went off again. But there you go, if you haven't read them already please give these fics a try. I promise you they are sooooo worth it.

I feel so exposed now I need a new account and a new life