#like they were both obviously pretty sick… mari was supposed to have a bit of a cold in the earlier chapters but I think I forgot to mentio

[clegfly]

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS NOW

'Please, get up.. I don’t want to die a bad person…'

She’s a little chilly [FANART FOR BEYOND BEYOND BY @clegfly GO CHECK IT OUT]

Okay no but seriously how did she not get frostbite

Like I drew her in this picture with frostbite cause yeah (I don’t know how to and it shows) but like

Is Mari Elsa in disguise or something?

What woman WHAT ARE YOUR SECRETS?!?! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!

Also Tumblr fucked the detail and res in the ass

[eternal-love]

hey girly! i feel like you've been writing a lot of angsty fics lately. so i've decided to give you a fluffy request!

maybe you can write a fic, it can be austin or austin!elvis, and reader and him are celebrating their marriage anniversary!

love u much, ur amazing! 💝💐

VENUS

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Fem!reader

Summary: You weren’t able to celebrate your anniversary but a year later, Elvis makes up for that.

Warning: just the colonel

Note: I’m a whore for 60s!elvis do this is obviously set in the 60’s. I know it’s short but I really liked it, I hope that my girl likes it too! Love ya, girl!!! @ilovereadingfanfics

I’m so sick too, like omg. But this is what my sickness allowed me to write.

The last year had been rough, too many movies, albums, everything going on with the colonel, you didn’t get the chance to celebrate your first wedding anniversary.

But now, March 1967, you were in Palm Springs, finally resting.

“My favorite woman.” Elvis’ voice rang through your ears, his accent like honey. You smiled at him, he sat on a chair by your side and patted his very own lap. “C’mere, satnin.”

You obeyed, walking over and sitting on his lap. Your arms around his neck.

“Do the guys need to be here for our anniversary?” You asked. Look, he brought not only the Memphis Mafia but his father and his grandmother.

You had expected a romantic getaway, private, so that you two could get— comfortably intimate.

“You know that I like to included ‘em on everything, baby.” Elvis purred, he didn’t like it when you wanted to talk bad about his friends. Or the fact that they were always there.

“I know.” You tried to convince yourself that you enjoyed their presence. That it didn’t bother you. But it did, it always did. You wanted your husband for yourself, not being interrupted by a man every five minutes.

“Just get all dolled up for tonight. Tease your hair to the high heavens. Wear them pretty lashes.” Elvis rubbed your cheek, you felt the cold of his rings against your skin.

You, of course, listened to what he said and got dressed up the way he liked you. With the big black hair, the bold eye look. The pretty matching outfit.

You knew he was wearing a baby blue turtleneck so you opted to wear a baby blue shift dress.

“A bit tight, isn’t it?” Elvis spoke from the doorframe, making you startle.

“Elvis!” You said, both against him scaring you and making that comment.

“It’s the truth, satnin. Ya are packing up…” Elvis crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“I know.” You huffed, the dress still fit but it wasn’t as loose as it was supposed to be.

“Imagine how gorgeous you would look pregnant, satnin.” Elvis wrapped his arms around you, oh, he adored you. “But all of this, is thanks to Mary’s food. Ain’t it?”

“I suppose is true.” You sighed. “E, I wanted to talk to ya about sumthin’-“

“Ah. They’re waitin’ down the hall. C’mon, I have sumthin’ for ya too.” He interrupted you. You nodded and looked at yourself one last time.

As you walked behind him, everyone was gathered in the living room. Clapping and cheering you both. But your whole focus was on your man, on Elvis. And how attractive he looked.

You say by his side as everyone moved around, Jerry pulled out his video camera and started recording.

“See, now this…” Elvis pulled a box from beneath the cushion. You opened it and it was a bracelet, it had Elvis’ name carved in it. “So that everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Elvis, I think everyone knows that.” You joked as you kindly accepted the thoughtful anniversary gift. “But I love it.”

He helped you put it on, you turned to look at Jerry, who was recording, and you proudly showed off not only your brand new gold bracelet, but your hug wedding ring. Also pulling Elvis’ hand so that he showed his too, you were proud of being Elvis’ wife.

He chose you!

“An anniversary gift for my boy and his wife.” The colonel said, he was a horrid distaste for you. You took too much time and attention, when in reality, it was viceversa.

He took your Elvis from you all the time. Always working like a damn mule. Like a slave on a mine. But you couldn’t say anything about it, it was men’s business as Elvis called it.

“It’s a beautiful trophy, colonel. I appreciate it.” You smiled, it had ‘happy one year!’ Engraved on a golden plate. Elvis held it proudly on his big hands, his smile cheekier than ever.

“Look at that, satnin. One year, one damn year. Imagine how the the tenth one will look.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck. Jerry made sure to keep that on video tape. “Goin’ strong!” He made sure to extend your hand, this time he wanted to show you off, you were his, his bride, his love, his satnin.

You felt proud, a year anniversary ain’t something easy.

“When are ya gonna start popping out babies?” Elvis’s grandmother said. Obviously joking, but everything Dodger said held some truth to it.

You didn’t know if you say it or not. But everyone stared at you, as if they were actually expecting an answer, hell, even Elvis got flabbergasted.

“Pretty soon, actually. Right now I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, maybe it was that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

There was a silence between everyone on the living room, until Elvis hugged you tightly.

“So there’s where those extra pounds come from.” He said excitedly. “I’m gonna be a daddy! Ya hear that, daddy? You’re gonna be a white-haired grand daddy!”

You smiled excitedly as he kissed your cheek over and over, his hand on your jaw.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You smiled, chuckling too.

“Ya hear that? Another little thing will be mine forever. Ain’t it? A little girl! Imma spoil her rotten. Imma buy her the best damn nursery Memphis has seen. Daddy, colonel. Make sure to buy the best of the best for my baby.”

Elvis was so excited. She hoped that the baby would look like you. But also like him. With sunlight in their hair, stars in their eyes, the brightest smile, cute little laugh. And he wanted a girl. A girl would be perfect.

He prayed to Venus, to god, to whoever was listening, that the baby had all the charms of you and him, that could chuckled and giggle whenever he hugged them or kissed their chubby cheeks.

It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“I’ll give ‘em all the love that I can give while I live, satnin, I promise you that.” Elvis whispered to you that night, his hand never leaving your stomach.

Make my wish come true.

[edamamefiend]

reading into ofmd too much hbu :)

before i get into all this, i just gotta say a show hasn't done this kind of psychological damage to me in a LONG time, so thank you david jenkins. also i'm sorry for the long post. oh and for the quality of these screenshots, my wifi is dooky today.

anyways:

THE CLOUDS.

the first time we really start to see who blackbeard is in episode four, when he's asking izzy what he thinks the clouds ahead of them look like, right? we get to know izzy as a sort of black and white type of thinker while ed is more abstract. but, towards the end of the episode, we see that it wasn't just ed being eccentric, it was practical. he saw the clouds as sausages and, in the end, that's what saved them. well, also ed and stede's out of the box thinking. right? okay, you're like 'yeah we know'. but why aren't we looking at the clouds? or maybe you were. i wasn't.

now, i could probably go back and look at other episodes besides nine but i did not. so here's what i'm thinkin.

episode nine, ed's changing, stede panics and runs off to the beach and we get this shot:

in the bit i circled we see a light break in a very dark cloud. in that break, it looks to me like a lighthouse and to the left of it almost looks like a tentacle reaching up and around the top of it. "you're reading into this too much!" could be! but i think it's meant to be symbolic of ed and stede finally sort of seeing each other. ed reaching out of the darkness to stede's light. could also be foreshadowing to stede returning to be the lighthouse he promised to be for mary while ed returns to the revenge and ultimately to his old ways as blackbeard, the both of them trying to once again be who they were told they were supposed to be before they met.

okay, stick with me, end of episode nine. stede doesn't show, ed's still waiting. here's that shot:

so at first glance, i thought this one was izzy and ivan taking the crew out to the island, maybe even the two of them leaving. but, after staring at it for too long to still be considered a person with a normal brain, i'd say that's stede rescuing his crew. the cloud on the left is obviously a dinghy with at least four people in it, and the cloud to the right looks more like an island than a ship.

i was going through episode ten to see if we get any more good clouds to read, sadly the only notable ones are these guys here:

pretty blurry, and the only thing to really note is that the ship is headed into some pretty sketchy clouds. i could try to analyze this but its already pretty clear that ed is just in his bella new moon era and will head directly into stormy seas as a totally normal and healthy way of dealing with a breakup. go off, king.

obviously this is all open to interpretation, so i'd love to hear your thoughts on all this! if you see anything i missed, i gotta know. or if you think the worms in my brain have actually just eaten everything and there is absolutely nothing here they are literally just clouds, sick. i just want that sweet, sweet feedback.

[amispnrewatch]

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so�� pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

[period-dramallama]

Spanish Princess Episode 5: many many thoughts

Strap yo selves in 

-WHERE WAS THE APOLOGY?? Lina’s just back with Catherine like nothing happened?? 

-Katherine, I get why you’re upset, but you kind of should be unsurprised?? Your dad was unfaithful to his wife, most kings were. Henry VII and Richard III were the exceptions, and even they had illegitimate sons before their marriages. Many kings also had official mistresses that everyone knew about, so by the standards of the time Henry and Bessie are actually being pretty tactful in at least trying to keep their affair out of sight. (Sexy dancing aside). 

-Honestly it would have been so much more moving if KoA was like “I know kings take mistresses...but I thought...I was so sure... he would be different...”

-”they gave me a purse of gold!” It’s expected that you give the monarch lavish presents, lmao Ursula and Stafford would do that even if they hated each other and you

-”everybody loves a masque” the only sensible thing Henry has said so far in this show. Also court probably had way more masques than we see in the show, and it would standard to have a masque every holiday. 

-”she is not a boy” hurry up with your character development and learn to love Mary already i am so TIRED of this miserable BS

-seems a rather depopulated masque? If the Chateau Vert pageant is anything to go by putting on a masque was a court activity, with most of the ladies performing.  

-Bessie Blount in her cute masque costume... sweet mother i cannot weave Aphrodite has overcome me with GAAAAAAAAAAAAY

-”I never enjoyed carousing...my mother scolded me” look i love the Neville sisters with my whole heart but a) Margaret was 3 at most when her mother died, how does she remember her? She’d have clearer memories of her double-uncle and double-aunt, Richard III and Queen Anne b) Isabel Neville in the White Queen was established as very prim and proper, a well-bred girl who cared about enforcing decorum, she refused to ‘carouse’ and she certainly would never bring a 3 year old to a party c) we saw little Margaret as a girl at the end of the White Queen and she didn’t seem at all shy. 

-”she died young, didn’t she” ...yes? most people did?

-”they both did” understatement of the year. Isabel Neville died young because she was ill, George died young (in the universe of The White Queen, at least) BECAUSE HE WAS FORCEFULLY DROWNED IN A VAT OF MALMSEY WINE. THESE TWO THINGS ARE NOT THE SAME! I do at least trust the writers of this show that the understatement was intentional, I’m sure even Emma Frost couldn’t forget a major character getting violently drowned.

-So the court only noticed the plague when one of their own got it so obviously and then died? Yes, plague could move fast, but if there was a whiff of plague the court would flee with the speed of the Looney Tunes road runner. If an acquaintance of an acquaintance of a cook had a cousin who saw someone with the plague, the court would flee to the country. How have these people not died of terminal stupid?! Like Compton was in the same building as the heir to the throne

-To be fair, it makes sense that they’re surprised Compton’s dead. Because the real Compton died of the sweating sickness. In 1528. Also he was involved in Buckingham’s downfall so... you just wrote yourself into a corner.

-Oh wow an actual good reason for More and Pole to be quarantined together i am amaaaaaazed

-”attend the queen” Boleyn, what do you think your daughter’s been doing all season if not attending the queen? Playing tetris?

-Katherine helping Anne into the wagon...I actually like that little moment. Like it does make sense, because the two have no reason to hate each other yet. (And who couldn’t like Anne? She’s such a babby!)

-Thomas More in the Tudor equivalent of casual clothes... much better. Shame about the 1930s lady’s wig.

-”what else should we do?” Maggie, this cannot be the first epidemic you’ve ever lived through. Have you forgotten the sweating sickness of 1485? You’ve probably lived through more epidemics than Oviedo has, you should know the protocol better than him.

-Oviedo continues to be the only man with rights. I wish we could see him crying and missing his wife and babies, but then my lil heart would break so maybe it’s for the best.

-They burn Maggie’s weird blue hood AS THEY SHOULD! IT WAS UGLY AND STUPID! I NEVER HAVE TO LOOK AT IT AGAIN NOW! THANK YOU SO MUCH! yes they also burned her nice dress with the strawberries on it but honestly it’s worth it, bc now i can rest easy, knowing the evil hood has been defeated.

-”you were a plaything” Katherine is so obviously insecure. I’m getting second-hand embarrassment. Like if she really was certain Bessie wasn’t important, she wouldn’t need to say it, would she? Except to rub it in. Which this KOA would absolutely do. 

-literally all Bessie said was good morning?? Like Bessie is doing her best?? The masque was Henry’s idea, not hers, she hasn’t shown off about her affair, she hasn’t demanded money or titles, she hasn’t demanded any status to rival Katherine’s, she doesn’t flirt with or even speak to Henry when Katherine’s around, she acts like they’re strangers, she doesn’t even react when Katherine loses her temper...someone please please stick up for Bessie!

-”the rocking of the cart is unsettling to the stomach” is Anne naive, or is she covering for Bessie? I hope it’s the latter, in which case Anne is the one person looking out for Bessie...the babby is Soft, I repeat the babby is Soft!

-the irony of Mary being cold to Bessie when she’s next in the firing line...

-”it is not the rocking” Thank you Lina, where would we be without your gift for stating the obvious?

-”where did Wolsey get his money”...He’s a churchman...at the top of the church hierarchy...how do you fuckin think he got wealthy. Have y’all not been in the sixteenth century for five minutes? Why do you think Luther is so mad at the church?

-”I know of no other man in her bed most nights” Honestly wow I’m surprised KoA wasn’t like “well :/ a girl like that :/ who knows how many men process in and out of her bed :/” KoA gets half a point for being less bitchy than usual. Also Bessie looked so uncomfortable with Henry groping her stomach in front of Katherine. I pray the next man in her life treats her right and that Fraham don’t prematurely kill her off like they did with Compton.  

-”the future king” if you’re regent on his behalf, then he’s already king! “Civilised companionship” back at it again with the Scots-are-barbarians.

-Laura Carmichael is utterly stunning this episode, with her hair down. The cinematography was beautiful in general this week.

-”freedom to speak and licence to speak are two different things” hey look at that one of Thomas More’s actual beliefs. I am giving all the credit to the historical advisor for that, I don’t believe for one second Fraham knew that beforehand.

-Maggie I love you but no, God does not sanction adultery. For any reason. 

-KOA smirking and gloating about Bessie’s pain...she has never been so punchable. I would understand, if not condone it, if Bessie was manipulative, or greedy, or ambitious, or trying to supplant Katherine. But Bessie’s been betrayed by Henry too, and there’s no concrete evidence she ever gloated about her affair, to anyone let alone Katherine.  

-”You think only of your own fate while London is struck down with plague” Earth to Katherine?? What concern have you shown for the Londoners?? Also calling Bessie selfish...Bessie’s not the one who lashed out at Lina, was jealous at Lina for having twin boys, and who wanted to continue a war for personal reasons. And then Bessie proves KoA wrong 5 hot seconds later by sticking up for Mary. Bit rich of KoA to be all “how dare you leave my daughter unattended” when she herself won’t even hold Mary. 

-”Louis didn’t last a year” What! Is! The Timeline!

-Meg in that cloak reminds me of the Scottish Widow adverts. Georgie is so greedy- she steals every single scene she is in! Even when she’s raging she has more dignity and more presence than KoA ever has.

-”YOU LYING SOD” i burst out laughing it’s really not the little two-timing shit’s day, is it?

-Mary receiving Charlie B in the most Extra way possible. A++

-Why does Wolsey look like he’s about to cry?

-”thoughts are not actions” Lina I love you but... that is NOT what the New Testament says. Jesus said evil thoughts are very very much sins. I’ll give you a pass because maybe you haven’t been Catholic as long as Katherine has? Idk your backstory.

-Aaand now she’s wishing death on Bessie and her unborn baby and Lina isn’t disgusted? At least Katherine is feeling guilty. AS SHE SHOULD.

-”must it always fall to me to be magnanimous?” Katherine, you think only of yourself, for 23 out of every 24 hours. 

-”God wants me to be compassionate to Bessie because of my sins” God wants you to be compassionate because that’s how Christianity is supposed to work. It’s not very selfless of you to decide to be selfless so that you can get what you want. 

-oh wow look at that! She’s getting some self-awareness, i never saw that coming.

-”you betrayed Bessie” 5 points to Katherine of Aragon for standing up for Bessie when Henry screwed her over. Finally, some positive character development.

- MINUS 20000 POINTS FOR BABY STEALING

-WHAT THE FUCK

-is henry so dumb he thinks that baby is Katherine’s? Katherine was so obviously not pregnant

-When a baby’s born his skin needs to touch his mother’s skin so they can bond. They should have at least an hour’s cuddle time. Katherine of Aragon is literally traumatising a baby the very minute he is born. For her own selfish, selfish desires. 

[lux-i-fer]

Believer of Faith and Mortality

Ao3 link

Synopsis: Lucifer and Chloe's victim shouldn't be alive, but the fact that he's currently alive and giving a statement says otherwise. When more and more miracle cases begin popping up, Lucifer believes that their lives aren't being spared out of the goodness of his Father's heart. The knock at the door only proves his theory.

Rating: M

Notes: HAHA HEYYYY! Guess who got the chapter out in under a year?? My most sincere apologies that this fic has been updating so slowly, I am just at that time in my life where everything requires my attention all at once and all the time. Never fear, I have not forgotten about this fic ;) This is unbetaed because in the year of our lord 2021, I have lost all hope in producing properly edited work.

Chapter Number: 6

For a few heavy seconds, the entire world shrank down to fit solely into Lucifer’s palm. The silence was almost suffocating as Amenadiel, Lucifer, and John stared at the silver phlegm dripping from Lucifer’s outstretched hand. Even outside of the harsh California sunlight, it still looked metallic and even glimmered like the chrome finishings on his Corvette. John found it almost blinding to look at directly, but there was a nagging feeling inside of him that demanded that he continue to look. The first time he’d seen it on Lucifer’s handkerchief, he’d only gotten a mere glance before Lucifer had hurriedly tucked it out of sight. Perhaps for him it was also supposed to be out of mind, but not for John. John was transfixed.

Looking at it now, he realized that it wasn’t really silver colored. Even though he never tore his eyes from it, it seemed to shift to a different color at the blink of an eye, changing so fast that it blurred together into one solid gray mass. And he found that it wasn't so much as metallic as it was almost lit by a soft inner light. John leaned forward, curious to see if there truly was something there or if he was imagining it.

A hand caught his shoulder and then the rest of the world seemed to snap back into focus. John blinked and when he opened his eyes, Amenadiel stood between him and Lucifer.

“Did you hear anything I just said to you?” he asked. There was a heavy set of wrinkles above his brow that hadn’t been there at the start of their visit.

John blinked again. He felt a little dazed, and found that he couldn’t quite focus in on the rest of Amenadiel’s face. “No?” His voice came out slow and slurred.

Amenadiel frowned. “Okay, why don’t you--” he walked the both of them backwards out of the kitchen until the backs of John’s legs knocked against the edge of a chair, “sit down.”

John did as he was told and then put his head in his hands. He had a roaring headache.

“So,” he heard Amenadiel say. “As I said before, will someone please tell me what is going on?”

“Apparently zombies,” John muttered, massaging the space between his eyes.

“Well, you’re not actual zombies,” Lucifer corrected. “You’re more...undead than anything. If I didn’t know better I’d say that you lot were resurrected, but our Father does not lower himself to dabble in those sorts of miracles anymore.” Even with his eyes closed, John could practically feel the eye roll in his voice.

“No, I meant how long has this been going on.” John looked up to find Amenadiel gesturing to the silver liquid that Lucifer was trying in vain to mop up with his handkerchief.

Lucifer shook his head. “Not long. Just today. Surely it’s nothing.”

Amenadiel looked to John for confirmation.

John shrugged. “I’ve only been here a day, but I guess it lines up? He coughed some of it up on our way here.”

Amenadiel nodded solemnly, while Lucifer shot him a dirty look, the unspoken accusation of traitor hanging in the air. “It’s not that big a deal,” he sniffed. “Whatever it is, surely it’ll sort itself out. There’s no need to coddle me, Amenadiel, my mortality stint ended ages ago.”

John stilled. “Your what?”

Lucifer waved him off, flicking a few silver droplets in his direction. One managed to hit Amenadiel in the chest and his face crumpled up in disgust. “Luci, do everyone else a favor and wash your hands. For all we know this could be contagious.”

John silently agreed. As if the headache wasn’t already making him nauseous, now he was picturing Lucifer as some sort of supernatural Typhoid Mary. Even though he’d seen some pretty nasty stuff during his time as a beat cop, John had always been a bit of a hypochondriac. Not in any serious sense, but realizing that Lucifer could potentially be hacking up the divine equivalent of a ball of mucus and phlegm definitely made his stomach twist.

Lucifer scoffed, but surprisingly listened to his brother. John sent a silent thanks to God, but stopped halfway through his prayer when he realized that he just may be better off directing it at Amenadiel instead. If Lucifer was to be believed, which John still had a healthy amount of skepticism for, Nietzsche had been right. In all the ways that mattered, God was as good as dead. Between the headache and the whole coming back to life thing, John really didn’t want to unpack that existential crisis right now.

“Is that a thing?” he asked instead. “Can you guys get the celestial flu or something?”

Lucifer sighed. “Don’t be silly, Jonathan. Angels can’t get sick.”

“Well clearly you are, so that can’t be entirely true.”

“John has a point, Luci. Whatever this is, it shouldn’t be happening.” Amenadiel turned to John. “And whatever is going on with souls crossing back over the threshold shouldn’t be happening either. It would be foolish to assume that these two events coinciding is a mere coincidence. I’d like to hear more about how you got back to Earth, John. I have a feeling that Luci has omitted some key details.”

At that, Lucifer tightened his hand around his glass of whiskey. At some point he’d poured himself glass number four, making John certain that he would be DD’ing the Devil himself back to Chloe’s apartment later.

“I don’t think I’m the best one to ask about details.” The image of Lucifer’s wrist covered in “souvenirs” flashed through John’s mind. “If anything, we were coming to you for some answers. All I know is that one second I’m in Limbo with this jackass,” he jerked a thumb in Lucifer’s direction, “and the next my daughter is telling me that I’ve been dead for nearly twenty years.”

“Limbo?” Amenadiel asked incredulously. “What ever were you doing there? Human souls are not supposed to go there.”

“Well I did. Lucifer told me that others go there too.”

Amenadiel looked at Lucifer.

“Times have changed, brother. Humans have more fight in them now, and Azrael has a shorter temper than she used to. Humans still condemn themselves to their respective eternities, but if they are particularly wily and combative when Azrael sees them off, sometimes she doesn’t see the job through. Usually they make it where they need to go without her guidance, but occasionally they do not. Those who don’t end up in Limbo.” Lucifer inclined his head in John’s direction, as if to give an example.

Amenadiel didn’t look convinced. “How could John have been in Limbo if he recalls seeing you? How are you certain that it wasn’t Hell?”

“It wasn’t Hell,” Lucifer said sharply, catching both Amenadiel and John off guard. John wasn’t sure what had just happened, but whatever Amenadiel had implied was obviously a touchy subject.

Lucifer stared at them for a moment, dark eyes unblinking and tracking their reactions like a predator. Then he sighed, and his shoulders relaxed, as if a great weight had dragged them down. His fingers worried his cufflinks again.

“Hell isn’t my only domain. Technically Dad also cursed me with that Dad-forsaken wasteland, but I hardly visited. It was a nice getaway when Hell became too much to bear, but it was just as undesirable in different ways.” Lucifer paused then. His eyes had grown distant, and his jaw was set. His hands flitted back to his glass.

“Do you remember our fallen brethren?” he said, his voice small.

Amenadiel’s brow furrowed at the subject change. “Of course, Luci.”

Lucifer continued to stare into his glass. “I wasn’t the only one who changed after I Fell. Our siblings, the ones that eventually fell too, they burned just as I did. After I had managed to pull myself out of the Lake of Fire, I gave the ones whose minds hadn’t completely shattered during the process positions within my court. They were, after all, family.” He chuckled humorlessly.

“In light of my recent sins, nepotism seemed like the least of my concerns at that point. I was correct, to some degree. Over time, most of the fallen grew twisted and corrupted by sin and they became a new breed of demon--an archduke-- but there were others who never recovered from the Fall. Something within them had broken. They weren’t quite demons and they certainly were not angels, either. They were, for lack of better description, mutilated. Inside and out. Their minds were fractured and their bodies, well--”

Lucifer’s form contorted like a tv glitch. Where his face should have been was replaced with something scarred and horrifying. It vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, but it didn’t matter because John had seen. Lucifer’s regular face was back, but John saw it with new clarity. Even before, he would freely admit that Lucifer was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, but it was a different beauty now. Now the sculpted angles of his face looked cruel and alien.

He didn’t think there were words to describe the primal sense of fear he had felt upon seeing it. It was like an echo of the morning’s conversation, when he’d discovered the name of the angel that had guided him through Limbo. He wanted to bolt like a spooked horse and run and run until he was certain that Lucifer would never find him. John’s heart raced, but his fear kept him rooted in his chair. He knew he should calm down. He had to calm down. His head felt like it was going to explode. John groaned and put his head back in his hands.

“Jonathan.”

John’s head snapped back up, bringing a wave of dizziness along with it. His heart seized when he realized that Lucifer was staring straight at him. The afterimage of his burned face lingered in John’s mind’s eye, and it was almost impossible for him to look at Lucifer at all.

“Do not go breaking on me now. The Detective will be very upset with me if you do.” His tone was blasé, but John saw a glint of uncertainty in his eye. Was Lucifer upset by his reaction? Why would the Devil even feel that way? John searched his shark-eyes for an answer.

Shockingly, Lucifer was the one to look away first. He returned his attention to his glass for a second time before continuing his explanation.

“The other fallen--the ones driven mad by the Fall-- were little more than rabid dogs, and they had developed an insatiable hunger for divine flesh. I suppose in human terms you would say they became cannibals, but such a human concept does not do their transformation justice. They were truly beastly, mere husks of angels and mutated beyond any demon.” John shuddered as he remembered the feeling of claws tracing along his cheek. Beastly indeed.

“So I locked them up,” Lucifer proclaimed. “I had the archdukes assist me in rounding them up and throwing them into Limbo. There they could live freely, on a separate plane away from Heaven and Hell, and out of my hair. I would only visit occasionally, like I said, for peace and quiet and to make sure that they were behaving.”

The room dissolved into silence once again. Amenadiel seemed to still be processing the information, and John was trying his best not to pass out from pain or fear. He still wasn’t sure which would eventually win out. He supposed by the way his skull felt like it was getting a forced lobotomy he would have to say it was going to be the pain.

Amenadiel finally cleared his throat. “So if I understand you correctly, you have been completely aware that these...creatures have been running amuck in Limbo, and yet you continue to let them roam, even though they're torturing innocent souls?”

In an instant, Lucifer slammed his hands onto the counter. John flinched as the sound ricocheted through his head like a massive bell. Amenadiel stood, unflinching, his face contorted into a stony mask. Lucifer’s eyes blazed and his lips curled back into a snarl. In that moment he looked every bit of the razor-sharp angel that had plucked John from the clutches of his cannibalistic siblings.

“Do not twist my words, Amenadiel, and do not criticize that which you do not know. I made the best of a bad hand. I dredged the land for lost souls as often as I could, but there was only so much I could do. And make no mistake, not all of the souls I found were innocent. I spared rapists and murderers from the clutches of our deranged siblings just as often as I pulled out martyred cops and saints. They all got the justice they deserved, and I carried it out like a good little son.”

At that, Lucifer turned on his heel and busied himself with something on the other side of the kitchen. Amenadiel simply watched his brother sulk and sighed heavily. “Luci,” he said to the Devil sulking in the kitchen. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to pin the blame on you. I jumped to conclusions.”

Lucifer turned back to face them, face drained of any prior anger. “Damn right you did.”

“But,” Amenadiel continued, pointing a finger at Lucifer. “My initial point still stands. It’s obvious that these creatures are dangerous, and yet they roam freely in Limbo. The last interaction you had with John was in the presence of these creatures. Isn’t there a possibility that your illness and John’s return to Earth are linked? They feed on the divine, and you said it yourself that none of the other resurrections occurred more than a day following their initial death.”

“That’s just it,” John chimed in. “Technically, it’s been twenty-or-so years since I saw Lucifer in Limbo. It may have only felt like a couple hours for me, but I imagine for him…” He waved his hand in lieu of finishing his thought.

“Yes, Jonathan is correct. In fact, I forgot about your existence entirely until you started threatening me over breakfast this morning.” Lucifer clapped his hands together. “At any rate, I think we can surmise that whatever this silver nonsense is, it is most certainly a fluke. If these events were truly connected then I would have gotten ill two decades ago. Nothing to do with Johnathan. Nothing to worry about. The resurrections on the other hand...” he shrugged.

“I don’t think we should discount the idea,” John cut in again. “Amenadiel’s right, it’s stupid to overlook the possibility. For now, I suppose we can put a pin in it, but it shouldn’t be off the table completely.”

Lucifer shot him an annoyed look. “Fine, whatever. Gang up on me, then.”

“Luci, we’re trying to help,” Amenadiel chided. Lucifer just rolled his eyes.

“The other bodies reeked of Heaven,” he started again, changing the subject. “I don’t know why or how, but they do, and it’s positively unbearable.”

John didn’t know Heaven even had a smell, but Amenadiel nodded like he understood. “I don’t have an answer or even an idea of how to explain that facet of this mystery. I would have to go to the Silver City to find out any more information.”

Lucifer considered Amenadiel’s proposition for a moment. He finished off the rest of his drink and glanced around the room. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “We’re in a time crunch, the sooner the better!” Dropping his empty glass into the sink, Lucifer swept out of the kitchen and towards the door. He turned back to face John and Amenadiel, a hand poised on the door handle. “Brother, I’ll be expecting your answer shortly.” Then he gestured to John. “Are you coming?”

John just sighed and hauled himself out of the chair. It took some effort to get his bearings, and when he finally did he stuck out his hand for Amenadiel to shake once more. Amenadiel inclined his head towards John and offered him a genuine smile.

“It was very nice to meet you, John Decker. Chloe speaks very highly of you. I can see now that her stories ring truthfully. You're a good man.”

John returned the smile, wincing as the pain in his head worsened with the movement. ���Well I don’t know about that, but thank you. It was nice to meet you too.”

Before John could say anything else, Amenadiel dropped his hand and simply disappeared into thin air. John stared stupidly at the spot the angel had been occupying just a few moments before. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but at this point, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to find out.

Lucifer made an impatient sound from his place at the door. “Jonathan, you’re dallying. Are you going to stare off into space for the entire day?”

John shook himself and started towards the door. “Yeah, yeah, calm down I’m coming.”

When they reached the parking lot, John ignored the pain in his head and made a b-line for the driver’s side door, just barely sliding his body between it and Lucifer’s hand reaching for the handle.

“Give me your keys,” he said, making sure to use his no-bullshit cop voice.

“No.” Lucifer tried to wiggle his way around John, but John stood firm.

“You just drank four glasses of hard alcohol, I’m not letting you drive drunk through downtown LA.” Lucifer only continued to wiggle and try to squirm his way around John. Fuck, did he ever stop moving? John caught Lucifer’s arm as he tried to reach for something in the car. “Seriously, Lucifer, stop. I don’t care that you’re the Devil, you’re not driving.”

As weird as it felt to say that, there was truth in John’s words. His fear over seeing Lucifer’s other face had almost entirely dissipated.

“I’m not intoxicated, I have a supernatural metabolism!” He wiggled his arm out of John’s grasp and leaned around him to grab whatever it was that he had been trying to get from the car. When he found it, Lucifer handed the mystery item to John. It was a breathalyzer. Police issued. Most likely Chloe’s, John thought. When John did nothing with it, Lucifer pushed it and the hand holding it to John’s chest.

“Test me,” he said. “If I blow under the legal limit, I drive. If I blow over, which I won’t, you can drive. Deal?”

John sighed. He knew Lucifer was trying to compromise, but it didn’t change the fact that John’s patience had been steadily declining since Lucifer had decided to drag him all over the city. “Fine,” he said, exasperated and desperately wishing for somewhere to lie down.

He quickly set up the breathalyzer, his muscle memory taking over for him. Through some small miracle, Lucifer took the test without complaint. John had expected the meter to read at least an .09, but he was dumbfounded when he saw the 0.00 staring back at him.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled. He gave the breathalyzer a little shake just to make sure it had gotten the right reading. The numbers remained unchanged.

Lucifer smirked. “Can we get on with things, then?”

On a day when John’s head wasn’t killing him, he would have asked for a retest, just to ensure that Lucifer hadn’t somehow rigged it in his favor. But John was exhausted and it was almost impossible to fake something like a breathalyzer, especially one that he himself had administered, so he decided to just let it slide. After all, it wasn’t like he was in any better condition to drive.

Wordlessly, John stepped out of the way and climbed into the passenger seat. Lucifer gave a victorious whoop and threw himself into the car. Another twinge of pain drilled through John’s skull and he winced away from his companion.

Now that he could take a moment to just breathe, John could finally acknowledge that he didn’t feel like himself. He felt feverish. Or high. He’d never been high to know what that felt like though. His forehead felt like it was about to split open like an egg, and he brought a hand up to touch it, just to make sure that no cracks had started to form. When he felt nothing, he squeezed his eyes shut and flopped back against the seat, wondering why Lucifer hadn’t driven off yet.

“Lucifer, why aren’t we moving?” he muttered, politeness thrown by the wayside.

“Because you’re doing a rather dramatic imitation of a dying raccoon. I don’t know much about humans, but I know enough to recognize that this isn’t normal behavior.” John must be hallucinating because Lucifer’s voice almost sounded caring. He told him as such.

Lucifer scoffed and finally shifted the car into gear. They drove in silence for about ten minutes before he spoke again. “It is possible that your body isn’t as stable as we initially thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s either that or your soul is unstable. Either way, something, besides the obvious, is not right. I have a feeling this headache of yours has been triggered by some imbalance. Whether that imbalance is in your mind, body, soul, or if my Father has decided to restitch the fabric of the universe, I cannot say for certain. The easiest way to solve it would be to return you back to your prior state.”

“My prior state, as in dead, right?”

Lucifer hummed, a nonanswer. That was all John needed to know that he’d been correct.

“Hey, please tell me we’re going back to Chloe’s?” he said, changing the subject. “It would really make her upset if we’re not there when she gets off work.”

“Ah, actually we won’t beat the Detective home.”

John sat straight up, whipping his head towards Lucifer. “What do you mean we’re not making it home before Chloe?”

Lucifer waved his hand absently. “Well you’ve lived in LA, you know how the traffic can be. Plus, we wasted more time than I had anticipated at Amenadiel’s.”

John sputtered and checked his watch. “But it’s like four in the afternoon. Even with traffic it won’t take us that long to get to her apartment, and the LAPD doesn’t usually let cops off until five at the earliest.”

“And you’d be correct; however, we’re not going to the Detective’s apartment straight away.”

“Where could we possibly be going?” John threw his hands up in the air because the alternative was to wrap them around Lucifer’s throat to choke some sense into him.

“I planned on stopping to grab something to eat, since I’m famished and surely you are too, considering we skipped lunch and barely had breakfast. I figured if we aren’t going to beat the Detective home we might as well show up with something to soften the blow. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission, you know.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Besides, it’s likely that she won’t be in a good mood anyways. I missed a call from her around noon, and about an hour ago she texted me saying that she wasn’t feeling well and was thinking about taking off of work early.”

“Did you call her back?” John asked.

“Call who back?”

John stared at him, bewildered. “Chloe. You said she tried to call you. Is she okay?” John’s outrage had been building slowly over the course of the day, but it had skyrocketed more in the last ten minutes than it had in the past few hours. He’d kept himself in check so far, but he wasn’t sure if he could hold it back if Lucifer insisted on being this much of an idiot.

“Oh. No, I didn’t return her call. I’m sure she’s fine, though.”

Something in John’s chest shifted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he exploded. “First, she tells you not to leave the house, and the first thing you do is immediately go against her wishes. Then, you don’t even have the audacity to return her phone call? You’re acting like such an asshole. I love Chloe and I respect her, but I don’t know what she sees in you. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t deserve her.”

Lucifer stilled. His fingers stopped on the steering wheel mid-drum, and if not for the wind whipping at his clothes, John would have thought that he was made of stone. A drop of fear slid down John’s spine as the weight of his actions settled into his bones. He may have gotten over the initial shock of seeing Lucifer’s true face, but that still didn’t change the fact that he’d just screamed at the Devil. No, not even that, he’d just screamed at Chloe’s boyfriend. Partner. Whatever he was. Someone important to her.

But just because Chloe cares for him didn’t mean that he didn’t deserve it , a voice whispered in the back of his head.

For a moment, John thought Lucifer wasn’t going to respond, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a poisonous smirk.

“You know, the Detective always told me that you were a soft spoken man,” Lucifer said.

John clenched his jaw at the perceived taunt. He turned to fully face Lucifer to give him another piece of his mind, but stopped mid-breath when he saw his face. Lucifer was purposely not looking John’s way, gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. He wasn’t really looking at the road, though, John thought. Even with half of his face obscured, John could tell that he was looking past it and into some distant memory instead, the same soft smile he’d given Chloe the night before playing across his lips. It was an abrupt change from how he’d been just a minute before: flippant, callous, ancient.

John deflated instantly. “I’m under a lot of stress right now,” he replied dumbly. It was all he could think to say.

Lucifer drove on silently. He still did not look John’s way.

“I know being stressed is no excuse for how short I’ve been with you today, but this is a lot for me to take in. I was never the atheist that Chloe turned out to be, but I was never truly a believer either. God, Heaven, you, it’s overwhelming. Not only that but Chloe--” John’s voice broke when he pictured his little girl as the twenty-something he left behind. He cleared his throat, trying to beat down the rising wave of emotion. “I didn’t get to help her move into her first apartment, I didn’t get to give her away at her wedding, I’ve never even gotten to hold my granddaughter,” he said quietly. “She grew up without me and I’m angry with myself for letting it happen. Seeing you with her, you being there for her when I couldn’t, it’s hard.”

That was the ugly feeling that had been sitting in John’s chest all day. That was the thing that couldn’t be packed away into a neat, little mental box to be dealt with at a later date. No matter how many times he’d tried to compartmentalize it, it always came back with full force. He knew it was the reason he was acting so caustically towards Lucifer, but it was as if his time in Limbo had tainted him in some way. It was almost as if simply brushing against those sinful beasts had made him into one too, teeming with new and nasty habits. The very thought left an equally nasty taste in his mouth.

He was used to dealing with jealousy. Penny had groupies and superfans just like any other actress of her day, and it had never bothered him before. He’d always trusted her. Now he found himself unable to bury the jealousy like he had before his death. It was embarrassing to admit. John had never wanted to be one of those overbearing and overprotective fathers.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, Lucifer navigating them through the maze of LA highways, and John lost in thought. The car coasted along an exit ramp, and as they entered back into the city, Lucifer broke the silence.

“My Father was not the kind of father that you were--that you are,” he amended. “He wasn’t kind or nurturing or any of those things. In fact, He was quite harsh with my siblings and me at times. The last conversation we had was the shouting match that eventually got me condemned to Hell.”

John wasn’t sure where Lucifer was going with his anecdote, but he remained silent, just as the other man had when he’d vented out his own feelings.

“Even in the midst of my anger, even when I would scream my throat raw yelling obscenities at Him from down below, some part of me still loved Him and wanted Him to love me in return. I hated that part of myself for centuries. He was my punisher and my jailer, and yet, I still couldn’t rid myself of the longing to be recognized as His son.

“You and the Detective don’t have that kind of relationship, obviously, but I say all of this so that you’ll understand and believe me when I say that the Detective loves you very much. There are very few things that you could do as a parent to make her stop caring for you. Not even death could sever her heart from yours. She has made her peace with your passing, and for both her sake and yours, Jonathan, you should too. If you don’t, your guilt will condemn you to Hell. That’s how the system works; humans choose their own fate, no Devilish temptation required.”

Lucifer grimaced at his poor attempt at a joke. Then, he glanced over at John, as if to gauge his reaction to something. “Amenadiel was correct; you’re a good man and a good father,” he said, eyes drifting back to the road. “You don’t deserve the torment that awaits you there.”

His words echoed in John’s mind. You don’t deserve the torment that awaits you there.

“I’m sorry that I said you don’t deserve Chloe. That was wrong of me,” John said. “It’s not up for me to decide.”

Lucifer made some noncommittal noise.

“We got off on the wrong foot, and I genuinely want to try and get to know you properly.” John hesitated. “If you’ll let me,” he added almost too quietly to be heard over the wind.

Lucifer sighed his back-breaking sigh. “I suppose we can start over.”

At his affirmation, the ugly feeling in his chest subsided. “Good,” he nodded. “I’m glad.”

“But,” Lucifer stuck a finger up in the air, as if preparing to give another monologue. “Just because we’re “starting over” doesn’t mean that I’ll completely stop tormenting you, Jonathan. You’re far too entertaining when your brain is on the verge of melting.”

Lucifer’s tone was light and any malice it may have contained before had been replaced by a vibrant playfulness. John couldn’t fight back the smile on his face.

“Well as Chloe’s father, it is my job to give you a hard time, so I’ve got some tormenting of my own to do too.”

Lucifer chuckled. “I’m the Devil, darling. I’d love to see you try to get under my skin.”

“I’ve got a few cards up my sleeve,” John said. “You never know what might happen.”

Lucifer didn’t respond to that, but a sly smile had plastered itself to his face.

He guided the Corvette down a maze of one-ways, and five minutes later, they slowed to a stop and parked on a quiet street. As John took in the sun-bleached storefronts and crumbling fire escapes, he thought nothing of their location. It was only when he caught sight of a beat up dirt green sign boasting Marisol’s Flower Arrangements that John realized where they were.

“I died at a corner store about a block from here,” he said numbly, all traces of playful teasing draining away. They’d parked too far down the block for John to properly see the store, but he didn’t need a visual, the image of it was burned in his memory.

Lucifer got out of the car. “I know. I parked a block away for a reason. The Detective always says that you shouldn’t let victims see their crime scenes unless they specifically ask to. Something to do with shock or trauma.”

“So why bring us here at all?” John asked, though he already knew the answer. He was just surprised that Chloe still came here after everything that had happened with the shooting.

“Like I said, the Detective doesn’t hate you,” Lucifer replied with a knowing look. He tossed John the car keys. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Lucifer was true to his word, returning only ten minutes later with a takeout bag. When he got back in the car, he traded it for his keys. As they drove back through the city, John tried his best to ignore the bag on his lap. The heat from the food radiated through the cheap paper and into his skin like a persistent house cat kneading at his lap. He hated to think what would happen when he opened the bag. These sandwiches hadn’t just been Chloe’s favorite, once they were his favorite too. He feared that when he would eventually unwrap the foil, he wouldn’t be able to stomach them.

Secretly, John was glad that Lucifer hadn’t expected him to walk into that corner store. He was almost certain if he had, he would have ended up on the tile floor retching at the smell of grease and sweat. He’d choked on that scent as he laid with a bullet in his chest. He could only hope that he wouldn’t choke on the food when it came time to eat it.

John thought back to a time when he had gagged on black tar and maggots instead of grease and blood. He swallowed hard; an echo of oil slid down the back of his throat. Or maybe it was crawling back up. Maybe John would wake the next morning and find that whatever horrors he’d tasted in Limbo were festering inside of him like he was John Hurt in Alien . He supposed if that were true, then it was only a matter of time before it tore through his chest. John shuddered. He absentmindedly touched the space over his heart, as if it too was going to burst out of his chest.

The rest of the drive back to Chloe’s apartment was silent, and neither he nor Lucifer seemed to mind. For John, it was even a welcome reprieve from the madness that was his resurrection and a quiet moment before the inevitable emotional explosion waiting for them at the apartment.

His suspicions were only confirmed when the Corvette pulled into the parking lot. Chloe already had the door open and was standing in the doorframe with her arms crossed. He couldn’t completely make out her features from where they were parked, but John was sure when they got close enough her brows would be scrunched up in an exact replica of Penny’s when she was upset.

Lucifer killed the engine and jumped out of the car. His hands immediately flitted to his cufflinks and then on to smoothing invisible lines in his jacket. At least he was smart enough to be a little nervous, John thought.

“Detective!” Lucifer said when they got to the door. “We bought dinner!”

Chloe’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “What happened to not leaving the apartment?” she demanded.

Lucifer snatched the takeout bag from John’s grasp and held it up as if it explained everything. By the way her eye twitched, Chloe was not impressed.

“Is that the only place you went?” she demanded again.

Lucifer thrust the takeout bag back into John’s hands and flashed her a nervous smile.

“No,” John said flatly.

“Lucifer!”

Lucifer only flapped his hands and slipped past Chloe into the apartment. “It was just to see Linda and Amenadiel!” he called over his shoulder.

Chloe took a deep breath. She sagged against the doorframe, her shoulders tight with tension. “Dad, wherever he dragged you to, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for thinking that Lucifer could stay still and listen for more than a half hour.” She said the last bit a little louder, casting her gaze over her shoulder and making sure the man in question had heard them.

“It’s fine, monkey,” John said, drawing her attention back. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to keep us here. I shouldn’t have gone along with it.”

Finally, Chloe pushed herself off of the doorframe and allowed him to pass. “You shouldn’t have even had to argue to stay here,” she said as he walked past her. Even with his back to her, John could tell she was staring daggers at Lucifer while he busied himself with setting the table.

Just like he had that morning before Chloe had gone to work, John felt out of his element. It was easier for him to interact with Lucifer and Chloe separately. They represented vastly different periods of his life, or death, in Lucifer’s case. With them separated from each other, John could almost pretend that he was still living a normal life. When he was with Chloe, he could ignore his death. When he was with Lucifer, John could accept it head-on. But when they were together, it was difficult. He felt every inch the man lost in time when he saw them together.

All of these thoughts ran through John’s head in under a few seconds, but the existential discomfort of it all made it feel like an eternity.

“Here, I’ll take that from you, Dad,” Chloe said, appearing at his shoulder.

Mechanically, he handed the takeout bag to her, and then went to hang his borrowed jacket back on the hook. Task complete, John turned back to the table, still unsure what he should be doing. He watched Chloe open the bag, as if ready to divvy up their early dinner, and then stop. Her head snapped up to look across the table where Lucifer was pouring their drinks.

“It’s been a stressful two days, I knew you would like to have them,” he said, not looking up.

Lucifer finished filling the third glass in silence. When Chloe still hadn’t responded, he finally met her gaze. John didn’t know what he found there, her back was still to him, but Lucifer’s shoulders hunched.

“Did I get it wrong?” he asked, seemingly folding in on himself in a way that John didn’t know was possible.

“No. You didn’t. Thank you,” she replied softly. “But did you--?”

“No!” Lucifer waved his hand vehemently. “He stayed in the Corvette.”

Chloe nodded, and it was as if that motion cued all the others back to normal. She began setting their food onto plates, and Lucifer fluttered back into the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Slowly, John walked up to the table.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chloe said, balling up the empty takeout bag, “everything’s already done. Just take a seat.”

He reluctantly did as he was told. He stared at his foil-wrapped sandwich until Lucifer and Chloe sat across from him a moment later. The placement reminded him a bit like an interrogation. In some sense, John thought, perhaps it was. He could tell that Chloe had bitten her tongue about them disobeying her orders today. Surely, it wouldn’t be long before she started fishing for details.

“So,” Chloe began, unwrapping her sandwich. “You went to see Linda and Amenadiel.”

Lucifer took a long sip of wine. “Yes, not that they were any help.”

“Lucifer wanted to look for answers,” John put in, trying to be helpful.

Chloe glanced between the two of them. “What kind of answers?”

“Answers that would help us figure out what in Dad’s name is going on, of course,” Lucifer said.

She raised an eyebrow. “And? What did you find out?”

John was thankful when Lucifer launched into a recount of the day's activities. He loved Chloe, but he simply hadn’t been in the mood to talk since they’d picked up dinner. Speaking of dinner, he glanced down at his untouched sandwich. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat, it was just that he was afraid of what would happen when he did. He knew he was going to have to eat it eventually, or else Chloe would start to get suspicious. The last thing John wanted to do was cause her any more stress.

He forced himself to unwrap his sandwich. Chloe was busy listening to Lucifer, but her eyes were fixed on John the moment he’d begun to remove the foil. With her watching, there was little he could do besides take a bite. Much to his relief, he did not taste tar or ash. It tasted the same as he remembered--rich, greasy, fattening. Even still, it turned his stomach, John realized with dismay.

Under Chloe’s watchful eye, he fought through the nausea and forced down another bite. The ends of her mouth quirked up in the ghost of a smile. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, Chloe turned back to Lucifer.

It hit him that for her, this was the first time in roughly two decades that they were sharing these sandwiches. In that moment, it was as if their lives had simply picked up from where they’d left off. Had John never been shot, this was what he would have done that night. Instead of choking on his own blood, he would have been up late at the kitchen table, eating these exact sandwiches with Chloe, and then sending her quietly off to bed afterwards.

John finished his sandwich. His stomach twisted itself into new shapes each time he swallowed, but he refused to ruin this for his daughter. She needed this as much as he’d needed to tell her that bedtime story the previous night.

To fend off the overwhelming nausea, he found himself laser-focused on Lucifer’s tale. That was when he noticed the omissions. Before, he hadn’t paid Lucifer’s storytelling any mind. He had been dealing with his own inner turmoil about Chloe and his untimely demise. Now that he had nothing else to do but pay attention, John began to notice the discrepancies.

Lucifer told Chloe most of what they’d experienced that day, with a few key cut corners. He neglected to tell her about Limbo and his mysterious cough. At first, John thought he was avoiding those topics because Chloe didn’t know the truth about who Lucifer really was, but that theory was quickly derailed when she didn’t blink an eye at Amenadiel searching Heaven for clues about their “resurrection problem.”

John didn’t know why he didn’t correct Lucifer. It would have been so easy to mention a detail he’d left out and watch the fallout unfold. Yet, he sat in silence, only adding in an affirmative sounding hum when Lucifer’s tale required it.

He just wanted to see where Lucifer went with it, he told himself. Lucifer had to have a reason he was leaving out key details, but then again, did he? If John was being entirely honest, even though they were on better terms now, he didn’t really know who Lucifer was at all. There was no telling whether or not he would be completely transparent with Chloe. In fact, if their detour around LA was anything to go by, Lucifer seemed to skirt around the truth and bend the rules quite often.

If Lucifer still refused to tell Chloe about Limbo and the cough by the time the night ended, John resolved that he would tell her himself. Chloe was his top priority, she deserved to know the truth, he finally decided. Plus, was it not John’s story to tell anyways? After all, he’d been the one who died and ended up there in the first place.

As Lucifer’s story drew to a close, John grew more and more convinced that he would have to be the one to tell Chloe about Limbo. But then, Lucifer’s story stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat once. Twice. Then he coughed. It sounded wet and thick like it had at Amenadiel’s, except this time it sounded deeper. It was as if Lucifer was a normal human smoker, and there was tar stuck to the bottom of his lungs.

Lucifer quickly pressed a napkin to his lips, but the coughs continued until he was almost gagging.

Chloe worriedly patted his back. “Are you okay?”

John opened his mouth to confess to Chloe that, no, her partner was not, and that he’d been like this all day, but Lucifer beat him to the punch.

“Fine,” Lucifer muttered between coughs. He coughed a few more times before it finally petered out, leaving Lucifer weepy-eyed and with an undoubtedly sore throat. He strategically wiped his mouth with a clean corner of the napkin before folding it up and out of Chloe’s sight. There wasn’t a speck of silver to be seen.

“What was that all about?” she asked, handing Lucifer his wine to wash down the remaining cough.

He shook his head, taking down the rest of the wine like a shot. “Not a clue.”

John shot a glare in his direction, and Lucifer tactfully ignored it.

Chloe stared at Lucifer for a few more seconds. When she found what she had been searching for, she stood and gathered up her dishes. “Maybe those cigarettes are finally catching up to you,” she chuckled over her shoulder as she headed to the sink.

“Darling, we both know my mortality stint ended ages ago,” Lucifer replied, voice scratchy. It was a pathetic recreation of the exact phrase he’d said to Amenadiel just hours before.

Chloe snorted. “Sure.”

John waited until she turned on the tap before he leaned across the table.

“You have to tell Chloe about everything that’s going on, not just the parts that you like or understand,” he whispered fiercely.

“That will only cause unnecessary worry for the Detective,” Lucifer whispered back. He unfolded the napkin and tilted it enough for the silver liquid inside to catch the light. “This is not something that she needs to worry about right now.”

“Lucifer, come on!” He gestured to the napkin. “You’re literally coughing up some unidentified substance. You said it yourself, you’re immortal. So why is this happening now?”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t care what you think you are, Chloe deserves to know.”

The tap shut off.

John glanced over to make sure that Chloe was still busy at the sink. When she was, he turned back to Lucifer.

“Tell Chloe, or I will, Lucifer.”

Lucifer just stared at the silver splatter on the napkin and said nothing.

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Deprived

Part 13

In case y'all forgot, their entire relationship started with sleeping and cuddles. If you're sick of reading about it, I don't know how you made it this far. Last! Bit! Until the bet's end! Warning, it might take me forever to write part 14. Thoughts are always loved.

Tags!: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse @lordsmeldingtonthethird @taoiichii @resignedcatservant @iloontjeboontje @a-fan-fighting-for-equality

~---~

Missing someone starts simple enough. You raincheck a date or have to cancel a few times because life just demanded too much of you that week. Not that big of a deal, especially for a new couple. Surely the attachment and codependency hasn't settled in too heavily yet. Except maybe you're accustomed to seeing them at least four nights and two days every week at minimum even before dating. Perhaps that person helps with your bad habits and the lack of their presence disperses half your impulse control. There's even a chance that your basic human needs get tossed into a shallow grave with no marker because who really needs food and water and sleep? Those are optional right? But really, to skip all the roundabout half speak, it all accumulated into one basic thought, 'I miss Tim.'

...

"Something I should know about?" Robin spoke, not turning towards her where she landed at his side. 

"Not allowed to follow my bestie every now and again?"

"Tt. I am well aware that I am not your usual choice of company, Tuemessian. Angel's? Maybe. Not yours."

She hesitated a moment, contemplating teasing only to stop herself. She came to confide in him, not annoy and he had already offered the branch. No need to have it retracted.

"Batman decided to tail Red a few days ago."

"Hmm, Red Robin hasn't been on any particularly difficult cases lately. Why would he need the extra help?"

"Because of me."

"We all know you shadow him. No reason to start getting uppity about it now," he paused for a moment before shooting her an accusatory look, "Something must have changed. And you neglected to inform me."

Heaving a long suffering sigh at Robin's tone, she fell against his side.

"Might've gotten on Batman's bad side. And let him see me. And hung off Red."

"So he's babysitting you now," he realized.

"Pretty much."

"And you came running to me in retaliation so as not to be observed," he observed with an unimpressed scowl.

"I will not be tailed by a man in a glorified onesie. It's demeaning and rude," she sniffed, nose turned up in a perfect imitation of Chloe.

"Suppose I should get used to my new patrol partner then?"

"Until Bats gets his head out of where it doesn't belong anyways," she pouted further, "I'm going to miss Red."

"If you plan to whine about it, I won't stick around to hear it," he threatened.

"Yeah right, you love me too much to just abandon me."

"Don't push it."

…

Two nights later, Jason found Marinette sitting on the roof of the manor, drawing in her sketch pad.

"You know Littlewing is out tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright sugarcube, what's up? You always follow him on patrol nights," Jason asked, settling behind her and letting her lean back into his chest, taking comfort in the contact, "Unless you're the reason Batsy bitched all of last night?"

"He confronted Tim on why Vixen wasn't following Red Robin anymore. Said that Vixen was his responsibility and he was shirking it."

"And Tim told him to stop supervising his nights out," Jason filled in the blanks, chuckling at the memory, "thought he'd blow a gasket when Tim ignored him after that."

"Red told me he'd let me know when Bruce decided to back off so I could come out again. Followed Robin the last two nights, but it got boring. Taking a night off."

"Yeah, kid's too serious in the suit to be much fun. What you working on up here anyways?"

"New outfit for Kori. Owe her one," she stifled a yawn, concentrating once more on the mechanics of making a crop top that didn't move or lift with your arms up or when turned upside down, without being skin tight.

"And the roof was the best option for this, obviously."

"No distractions up here."

"Or really?"

"Don't even think about it!"

He snagged the sketchbook and took off back through the window and down the hall, laughing when he heard a shriek and the immediate sounds of Mari giving chase.

"Jason get back here with that!"

…

Stephanie dropped into the apartment on a Thursday, taking in the fabric bound chaos of the living area, particularly thick around a work desk that seemingly exploded. Scattered bits of boning, lacing, eyelets, three seam rippers and notably a few chains, sticking out of the disaster. In the center of it all sat a tiny designer with a vicious snarl curling the edge of her lip.

Skipping over, Steph wrapped her hands around and squeezed at the tense shoulders, noticing the concerning lack of reaction.

"Mari, I'm hungry."

"I'll make you something later."

"Hmm, don't think so. I'm calling for pizza. You're joining me and no, work is not allowed during pizza time." 

With that, she dragged Marinette off the chair and into the bedroom, both dropping onto the bed as Stephanie made the call, not needing to ask what the other wanted. Marinette didn't bother arguing, which was only more concerning. Steph wondered for a moment if she should call in reinforcement, but ultimately opted out. 'Nah, I got this.'

"Okay, should be here soon," she stated, relaxing into the comforter for a while, letting the other recover from being abruptly yanked out of work mode; read ten minutes of silence before curiosity won out.

"So what are you killing yourself over this time? Oh! Your suit for the next show? You have to let me see it!"

"No no, that was finished a week ago. You can stop by the studio tomorrow to check it out. You're still coming with me, right? I have a dress set aside for you."

"Obviously. I'm your date. However, that doesn't answer what you were getting so pissy with out there?" She teased, peaking at the other from the corner of her eye.

"It's a corset. Like, an actual, structured, hand embroidered, perfectly laced up corset. My hands feel like a crime scene with how much I've torn into them trying to get this right."

"Oh god, those things are so intricate. You're going to be screaming bloody murder by the end, why would you even do that to yourself?"

"... Haven't been sleeping much, figured it'd help get the frustration out."

"You never sleep much. Hence the sleep cuddle club," she pondered the thought a moment before snickering, "you two could make a business out of that if you weren't already swamping yourselves. Cuddle sessions for the sleep deprived and lonely. Oh! I'll go grab the door. I'm stealing your wallet by the way." 

Stephanie launched out of the room to the sound of a knocking door and a Mari grumbling about it hardly being stealing when you announce it and the owner doesn't care. Walking back in, she dropped the box between them, yanked the top off and grabbed for the garlic butter sauce they ordered to dip the crusts in.

"You're disgusting."

"And you lack respect for sauce. What else is new?"

"... I've been skipping nap time too," Mari muttered, hoping the other wouldn't hear.

"What do you mean you've been skipping naps? That's like, the only time you two ever sleep! Marinette, you cannot be awake 24/7."

"Pshh, more like 23/6. I crash hard on day 7."

"... That's a whole mood. Might I ask as to why you hate yourself so suddenly?"

"My commissions have gone through the roof with award season coming up, and spring weddings start up immediately after that. I might be clientele only, but my client basis is massive at this point! I don't have time and the few moments I've been free, Tim's been out for the night. And lord knows I don't sleep well alone."

"Uh-huh. And how long has this been going on?" Steph focused on the cheese stringing from her mouth that just would not let go, to give the other a chance to build up to tell the truth without having a guilty stare off.

"Um. About two weeks?" Mari flinched, wishing she were Tuemessian so she could disappear right there.

"So what you're telling me is that you haven't slept more than 12 collective hours, you're overworking yourself to the point of compliance to my antics, and your boyfriend, who's just as much of a sleepless wreck as you are, hasn't dragged you off for your regularly scheduled nap dates. Is that correct?"

"Well yeah. Wait, my boyfriend?"

"Don't even try me, I know you and Tim are a thing. No denying it. It's so damn blatant, it's ridiculous the others seem so oblivious to it," Steph rolled her eyes, daintily wiping her fingers off and grabbing a half empty water bottle off the nightstand to drain. A perfect contradiction of uppity and uncaring that only she seemed to pull off.

Marinette could only blink in surprise for a moment before nodding along, "We didn't plan for this," she murmured, half distracted.

"For what?"

"Nothing," she shook her head to clear the thought, "point is.Yes? I mean, we're just really busy and haven't found time and he knows how important this all is to me and even if he doesn't approve, it's not like he can get away to prevent it. Which would make him a total hypocrite if he called me out on it. Honestly, it's not even that bad, I'm catching up on so much now and I'll get to see him soon I'm sure, just as soon as I get through this season and!"

"That's it! I'm staging an intervention! We're finishing this pizza, cleaning you up and then I'm dropping you off at his apartment where you will sleep. Tomorrow the two of you are not leaving the bed until noon at the earliest. No work, only rest. Understood?"

"Noooo, Stephanniiieee, I'm busy!"

"Are you telling me you don't want snuggles?"

"... No."

"Then quit your bitchin, your arguments are lost on me. Now help me with this before I eat it all, itty bitty."

…

It took maybe fifteen minutes to finish the food and get some water down, another twenty to shower and get coerced into wearing cozy black fleece leggings, lavender tank top, and a soft, deep royal purple cardigan, and finally an extra ten minutes to lock up and make it out of the complex.

While Marinette was locked away in the bathroom, Stephanie called up Tim.

"Tell me you're at home. Or can be back in the next fifteen minutes."

"I just walked in?"

"Perfect, I'm dropping Mari off soon. She's like the walking dead right now and that's coming from the Dead Robins Club VP."

"VP…"

"Duh, Jason's the President. Damian's a recruit. Mari's not allowed to become the newbie. She's not even a Robin, it'd make no sense."

"What about Dick and I?"

"You two never actually died, doesn't count."

"Fair… wait, what's going on with ma loutine?"

"When's the last time you slept properly? Or even napped?"

"..."

"So when do you think she last slept or napped?"

"..."

"We'll be there soon."

…

Marinette found herself dragged up to his apartment, the door opening as she was pushed forward into a warm, familiar chest.

Since being dragged from her work, the lack of self care was slowly catching up to her. She hadn't even bothered to pull her hair out of her face, just letting the freshly blow dried fluff fall were it may. She had a vague idea of how they got here, but either way was grateful to find herself warm and held, even if it was in a doorway with the two talking over her head. She caught only snippets: something about not skipping out on each other anymore and a suggestion about living situations that made the body pressed to hers flush. Eventually the two stopped and Stephanie left. A hand pressed to the side of her face and she looked up to Tim who tilted to rest his forehead on hers.

"Hello sweetheart."

"Mon Somnambule," she smiled, eyes closing automatically.

"Think you're beating me there. When have you last slept?"

"Hypocrite."

"That's not an answer."

Mari pouted, not looking like she wanted to answer.

"Have you slept beyond an hour at a time?"

"I can't remember," she admitted.

"Why haven't you slept? You're usually better at self regulation than I am."

"Missed you."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

She pulled back and burrowed back into his chest, concentrating on the sound of his heartbeat.

"Couldn't sleep alone. Dark figure stalking me. Brought back bad memories. Became a nonentity for a reason. I do the following now. I make others uncomfortable, observe and toy with them. Not the other way round."

"I took care of that. He won't follow me anymore. You can come back out. But sweetheart, why didn't you call me?"

"Too risky at night with him following you. Too busy during the day. Didn't seem like there was a good time," she admitted.

He frowned, but let it go, gently tugging her arms over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck and placed his hands on the back of her thighs in a prompt to jump up. With her firmly wrapped around him, he made way to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge and pulling back a touch.

"Maybe Steph was right about living situations," he muttered to himself, hushing her when she hummed in confusion.

"Are you comfortable sleeping in that?"

She tugged at the cardigan, accidently getting tangled until he helped her out of it, folding it off to the side. She tucked her face down into the side of his neck and slumped into him completely. Turning them about, he settled her down, curling around her.

"Sleep well, love."

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Love Her (Part 7)

Summary: The reader heads home to stay with Dean and the twins. Only some things have changed around there and the reader learns a little more about Dean’s past...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death

______

“It looks the same,” you said when you got to Dean’s place around midnight after your concussion was cleared.

“It is. Your room’s the way you left it. We can unpack and pick you up whatever you need tomorrow. Let’s just let you get some rest for now. You sleep in and don’t worry about anything, okay?” he said.

“Sure,” you said. You followed him inside and found John and Mary on the couch watching TV. 

“Hey,” said Dean as he locked up the front door. “You guys mind staying the night?”

“No, not at all,” said Mary as she stood up. She walked over and gave you a hug. “Hi sweetie.”

“Hi,” you said.

“She home for good?” asked John as he joined you in the foyer, giving you an unexpected hug as well. You always thought he hadn’t liked you but obviously that had changed over the past few years.

“I’m her foster parent for the moment. She’s an adult so she gets a choice now of where and what she wants to do so she’s here as long as she wants,” said Dean. “It’s late though so let’s just all head to bed, alright?”

His parents nodded and turned off the TV, heading upstairs to the guest room as you went with Dean to your old room.

“I think there was a pair of your pajamas left in the laundry I never got to give back to you,” he said, going to the dresser. He pulled out a shirt and pair of shorts and handed them to you. “Your face okay? I can get you some of your pain medicine.”

“Dean. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just tired,” you said. He nodded and went to leave, turning around when you took a seat on the bed.

“If you need something-”

“I know, Dean. You always worry over everything,” you said. “Not that that’s bad.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Night, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Guys, guys,” said Dean as the twins nearly knocked you over from another round of hugs as you put together your room the next day. “Y/N has a concussion. We have to be careful around her the next few weeks.”

“Sorry,” they both said when the door to the room opened. You saw a woman in sweats walk into the doorway, an angry look on her face quickly disappearing when she saw you.

“What happened to her?” she asked, immediately walking in. You took a step back, Dean chuckling. 

“I forgot to pick you up at the airport, didn’t I,” said Dean.

“Yeah. I figured you got excited with Y/N coming home,” she said. “Why does she look like she was in a fight?”

“Long story. She’s okay now,” said Dean, looking to you. “I suppose I forgot to mention it last night with all of the chaos going on. Y/N, this is Ana. She’s my fiance.”

“Fiance?” you asked, Dean giving you a smile.

“Twins, give us a minute?” asked Dean. They begrudgingly left the room as Ana walked over and gave you a hug you weren’t sure if you should return.

“Dean mentioned you might need some warming up to at first,” said Ana, giving you a smile.

“Fiance?” you asked again.

“Things weren’t...great after you left. Like...really not great. Sammy and my friends took me out one night to try and help but I wanted to just go home. I went outside the bar and saw this little redhead kicking some drunk guy that been bothering her’s ass. I tried to be a knight in shining armor and got an accidental hit to the nuts for it,” he said. “She felt sorry for me after that. She bought me a drink to apologize and we found out we had a lot in common.”

“I think I have you to thank for getting us together,” said Ana with a smile. “He mentioned that his oldest wanted him to try dating again.”

“Ana’s birth mother gave her up for adoption,” said Dean. “She spent some time in foster care and wound back up in it when she was a teenager. She’s a doctor over at the hospital.”

“Cool,” you said, giving her a nod. “Uh, I’m glad you decided to be happy again.”

“Well I figured the least I could do was try,” said Dean. “You always tried for me.”

“So you’re with us?” she asked, a smile in her voice. You glanced at Dean who smiled.

“Ana knows all about you. She’s been around awhile. She’s been waiting to meet you,” said Dean.

“I don’t know what I want to do yet,” you said. “Just right now, I want to be with the twins.”

“Of course,” she said. “Can I steal Dean for a second?”

You nodded and she grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room. You bit your bottom lip and went back to putting away your clothes, sighing as you closed your eyes.

“Hi,” said Ana, poking her head back in the room. “I know this is probably weird for you. I get it, trust me. But I just wanted to say I’m really glad you’re finally home and if you ever want to talk about stuff, stuff that maybe Dean doesn’t understand, I’m always here.”

“Were you ever adopted?” you asked.

“Once. As a baby,” she said. “By a single mother. She was the person I consider my mom. She got sick and died when I was eight. I went back into the system and moved for a while before I found a foster home I could stick around in until I was too old. I know you’ll believe me when I say you know that Dean is different than most other people.”

“He could have fought back more about me getting moved,” you said.

“He could have. But the twins wouldn’t be here and they wouldn’t be together. You don’t know how many nights he lost sleep over that. He wanted to go and get you. He did. But from what I understand, you love Ryan and Rae more than anything and he had you take the hit so they would be okay. He said you’re strong and you could take it. I’m not saying it’s right but it’s what happened. I’m not going to try and be your mother either. You had a mom and I understand that. I’m not going to replace anyone. I just want you to know that he has been waiting for this for a very long time,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. 

“And there’s a surprise for you in the basement when you’re ready for it,” she said with a smile.

“Ana?” you asked, getting a hum from her. “The twins call you mom, don’t they.”

“They started to once we got engaged about six months ago,” she said. 

“They should have a mom,” you said.

“Y/N. You’re not an outsider here. Dean made it very clear to me that his kids will always come first, all three of them,” she said. “I’m here to talk is all.”

“Is he okay? Dean?” you asked.

“I think he finally is,” she said. “He was waiting around like a little boy for Christmas lately.”

“Do you think I should let him adopt me?”

“I think whatever you decide, whatever you call him, you’ll always have a father in Dean,” she said.

“I think I’m finally starting to understand that,” you said, grabbing your bracelet. “Even if he can be overbearing.”

“That’s not necessarily bad,” she said. “I’ll let you finish up in here.”

“Thanks, Ana,” you said as she left. Dean popped back in after a moment and helped you finish, not saying much aside from asking where you wanted things. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“I like her,” you said.

“Me too,” he said. “She came into my life when I really needed her to. Oh and I called school, got you all registered. You don’t have to start tomorrow. You should stay home this week to recover from the concussion and decompress a bit.”

“Okay,” you said as you turned off the closet light. “I know you want an answer about the adoption thing but...I honestly don’t know right now, Dean. The stuff with my dad...”

“I don’t need a paper to tell me what you are to me. We never have to bring it up again so if you ever decide you want it, you tell me otherwise we’ll consider it put to rest, okay?” he asked.

“You’re okay with that?”

“You’re home with your family and you’re safe and no one can take you away. That’s all I wanted,” he said.

“Dean?” you said. “I’m sorry about what I said last night. I don’t hate you. You’re the only person since my mom that ever cared about me and the twins.”

“Apology accepted. I’m just happy you’re home,” he said, giving you a hug. “Now if you’re up for it, birthday girl, there’s a surprise for you.”

“I heard,” you said as you started to leave your room. You were nearly knocked off your feet again by Ryan and Rae, Dean sighing. “They missed me.”

“Come on!” said Ryan, pulling you downstairs to the basement.

“Slowly,” said Dean as you went with your brother, Rae right beside you as Dean followed you down. You saw a sheet covering a strange shape in the middle of the floor, Ana and Dean’s parents along with Sam already down there. “Go ahead.”

You walked over and pulled off the sheet, cocking your head for a moment.

“That is two years worth of birthday and Christmas presents,” said Dean. “I still hope you wanted those bath bombs.”

“Thank you. All of you,” you said, Ryan and Rae each grabbing hold of your legs. “Will you guys help me open this stuff?”

“Yeah,” they both said, not diving right into the presents like you were expecting them to. You sat down and they both gave you hugs, trying to climb in your lap and holding on tight. 

“Don’t go away again,” said Rae.

“Pretty please?” asked Ryan.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, giving them a big squeezing hug. “I love you both so much. I’m not going away ever again.”

“I think she tuckered herself out today,” you heard Ana say as she and Dean watched a movie in the family room. You’d rested your head on his lap and shut your eyes after a bit of it, relaxing as he ran his hand over your head.

“She’s been through a lot. She went through so fucking much she didn’t deserve to,” said Dean.

“She’ll be okay. Look at her. She’s already cuddling with you,” she said.

“You girls are going to have to learn to share,” he teased. “She’s different than before.”

“Good different or bad different?” she asked.

“She reminds me of when I was her age,” said Dean gently, lightly brushing your cheek with his finger.

“The stuff with Sam?”

“I thought my dad was going to beat me to death,” said Dean.

“Your dad had anger problems,” she said.

“Still. That was the last straw,” said Dean. “I ran away I thought I was so horrible for my family.”

“Your dad never should have said those things to you,” said Ana.

“But was he wrong?”

“I would take a look at your daughter and say yeah, he was wrong,” she said.

“She doesn’t want me to be her father,” said Dean quietly. “I wouldn’t want me to my father. I could have let something slip to her in a letter or something. She’s a smart girl, she would have kept her mouth shut. But I was scared and I picked the twins over her. Again. I know logically it was the smartest move but she never gets picked first. Never. I want to pick her first for once in her life so fucking bad.”

“I think she knows that Dean. She’s not a child. She understands.”

“She hasn’t been a child since she was eleven years old,” said Dean. “Before that maybe. Who knows what kind of home she grew up in. I know her mother was kind and good and that’s probably why she is the way she is but a drunk sack of shit for a father? I have no idea if he ever hurt her, manipulated her, bossed her around or scared her. She might have been too young to even realize. I-”

“De,” she said softly. “Stop spinning your wheels, baby. You love her and I know I’m going to fall in love with her just like I did the twins. It won’t be all perfect in one day.”

“Even with all the shit that has ever happened to me, I always had someone I could fall back on, even if I didn’t know it,” he said.

“She’s got that,” said Ana. “You just remember to lean back on me too.”

“I almost didn’t call you after I got your number, you know,” he said. “Y/N had a bad night once and I told her about Joanna. For a split second I think she almost told me she didn’t want me to be alone.”

“She probably almost did. Keep being that safe place for her, Dean. I’ll try and be that for her too. God knows she needs it. She’s going to want to fall apart sometimes. She’s going to need to. She has to learn that when that happens, you don’t always have to be the one that puts yourself back together,” she said.

“You tell her you were married before?” asked Dean.

“No, not yet. Felt like my life was cursed for a while there,” she said. “I still think Dan and Jo are up there laughing their asses off at us.”

“Probably,” said Dean. “God, I can’t even keep track of how many times I asked Jo to keep an eye on Y/N, like she could have done something.”

“Maybe she did. Besides all the house and school swapping, this last house was the only bad one, right?” said Ana.

“Maybe. I just…” trailed off Dean. It got quiet and you swore you felt him shudder.

“How many times have I told you, Winchester?” she said.

“I know,” he breathed out. “I want to stop feeling so guilty.”

“I know, which is why I called Benny and you are taking the week off to stay home with Y/N. You two can talk or you can lay in bed and cry watching sad movies or whatever but you need rest too, De. You’ve been waiting two years for this. Take a few days,” she said.

“You’re not going to give me a choice, are you,” he said.

“What do you think?” she said.

“Fine,” he said, rubbing on your shoulder so you were forced to sit up and open your eyes. “Sorry sweetheart. You fell asleep. Why don’t you head to bed?”

“Okay. Night,” you said as you got up, wondering what the hell else had happened to Dean when he was younger.

“Good morning,” said Dean around nine the next morning when you walked out of your room. “I took the week off too if that’s cool.”

“Mhm,” you said, going to the kitchen and to the coffee machine, pouring yourself a cup.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve been drinking it for like a year,” you said.

“Fine but only a little,” he said as you carried a mug over to the couch where he was watching some morning talk show. You curled up next to him, Dean placing a careful arm over your shoulders. “You okay?”

“Kind of a redundant question given the circumstances,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee before Dean pulled it away and set it on the end table. 

“How’s your face feel?” he asked. “Or head?”

“Better,” you said.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“A time machine,” you said.

“I could do with one of those too,” he said.

“I wish my mom had ran away with me and the twins,” you said.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s easy to look at just the negative side of things with stuff like that happens though. Try and think that the twins are still here and happy and they don’t even know about everything that happened.”

“I’m never telling them,” you said.

“I don’t plan on it either. Not until maybe someday when they’re adults if they get curious but even then I’d may lie to be honest,” he said. “I know the past few years haven’t been easy but try and think of the positives now.”

“What positives?” you asked.

“...I’m sure there were some,” he said. “Did you ever have a boyfriend at all? Or win any awards at school? You were so good at school.”

“Still undateable and friendless and it’s kind of hard to get involved in anything when you move every two months,” you said.

“I’ll be your friend,” he said.

“I’m pathetic. I’m not that pathetic, Dean,” you said. You closed your eyes and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. That was mean. You can be my friend.”

“It’s okay. I told you before, I’ll take whatever you throw my way,” he said. You sat back and tucked your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around them. 

“I’m so tired of being alone, Dean,” you said, turning your head towards him. “Now I’m back and I can’t get myself to relax, even with the twins. It feels like they’re better off without me.”

“Every single day those two ask about you. Every day. Maybe you guys can set aside some time everyday to play or spend time together,” said Dean.

“Yeah, I think we’ll do that,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “I feel so clingy.”

“Cling all you want. Please. I want to cling too,” he said.

“Dean, I still don’t know if I ever want a dad again,” you said.

“That’s okay.”

“But can I still have a Dean?” you asked.

“Always,” he said, giving you a hug. “You can stay here forever if you want.”

“Maybe not forever,” you said with a smile. “But awhile.”

“At least a few years?” he asked.

“Yeah. I was thinking of online college, after high school,” you said. “That way I could work and do school.”

“You could. Maybe something part time though? You could commute to the university right next door if you wanted to,” he said. “Whatever you want to do, it’s your life, but I was thinking last night and maybe you might like to go there.”

“I can’t afford a private school,” you said.

“Yes you can. I’ll pay,” he said.

“Dean-”

“I’m a doctor. Ana is a doctor. I’d rather use the money on that than buying stuff we don’t need,” he said.

“I don’t want to think about that stuff right now,” you said.

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Can you make me pancakes?” you asked quietly. 

“Of course,” he said, frowning when he looked at you and saw your wet eyes. “Sweetheart.”

He used his sleeve and wiped off your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just missed you is all,” you said. “I didn’t even know how much until now.”

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. We can spend the whole week together, I promise.”

“Hey you two,” said Ana that night when she got home around nine. You were in Dean’s room watching a movie in his bed and eating ice cream after the kids had gone to sleep. “Sorry I’m late. Had to cover for Carl again.”

“S’okay,” said Dean. “You get dinner at the hospital?”

“Mhm,” she said. She popped in their bathroom for a few minutes before returning with wet hair and some pajamas on, crawling on top of the bed beside you. “How was your guys day?”

“Good. We had a lazy day at home before we grabbed the twins from school. We hung out at the park for a bit,” said Dean. You started to move towards the end of the bed and climb off, taking your ice cream with you. “Getting more?”

“No. I think I’m going to go bed,” you said.

“You don’t have to,” said Ana with a smile. “It’s a big bed.”

“I really should go to sleep,” you said. You left and walked out to the kitchen, finishing off your ice cream when Dean walked in. “What.”

“Ana would like to spend time with you too,” he said. You gave him a side glance and ate your last spoonful before you chucked the bowl in the sink. “You know I am not one to open up to people. She’s kind and she knows what you’ve gone through better than I do. You don’t have to leave the room when she comes in.”

“You’re adults. You want to spend alone time with your fiance I’m sure,” you said.

“Y/N. Everyone in this house is part of this family. All five of us. She doesn’t want anything more than to get to know you,” he said.

“...I’ll try,” you said quietly.

“That’s all I ever ask,” he said, taking your bowl back out. “More cookie dough?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll bring it right on in.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 8 here!

[3starsquinn]

Study Mary || Connor & Orion

Timing: Weekend of 10/17, right before Rio’s birthday

Setting: The Scribrary

Parties: Rio and @connorspiracy

Summary: Rio gets the chance to show off the Scribrary to Connor so they can try to research Bloody Mary. Their search yields minimal results.

Orion has grown accustomed to this. Apparently, the friends that he had been making around town were all just involved in the supernatural as he was. Rio had lists of things he needed to look into at the Scribrary, why not had a ghost of legend come to life to his queue. He pulled into a parking lot on the campus where he was supposed to meet Connor and sat in his car until Connor got there. “Hey!” He waved, “So the building is in the woods behind the campus. Cars can’t get there anymore, so it’s a bit of a walk. The place isn’t exactly… modern. I’ve been trying to clean the place out but it’s really outdated. You ready?”

Connor had several Go Pros on him, along with his regular camera and phone. He didn’t know exactly how much Rio wanted him to film, if anything, but he was curious about this place, and was interested to get it on camera. People made documentaries about crappy things all the time. Why should this be any different? “What, no state of the art streaming set ups in every room?” Connor shook his head. “You should be ashamed,” he teased, giving Rio a wink. “Alright. Lead the way then. Blanche and Adam mentioned you’re kind of the book bloke, so I figured if anyone can find something on Bloody Mary, it’d be you.” He followed wherever Rio led, interested to see the place where Rio housed his books. “Isn’t it a pain in the arse coming here all the time? You ever thought about digitalising it?” 

Orion led the way through the woods. The terrain wasn’t perfect, but it had been worn down from the myriad of trips that Rio and some others had taken to the place. Although he had been more open and willing to show the place to people he still kept access pretty limited. As it was, he had only actually shown a few people how to get into the building. Everyone else needed an escort. “Ha ha. Very funny. I haven’t really gotten the chance to set up internet yet. It’d be a bit difficult to explain that to Spectrum.” Regardless, he appreciated the compliments from Blanche and Adam. He wasn’t sure he believed the kind words, but it was still flattering nonetheless. “I’m pretty used to the hike now, actually. Before I moved in with Winston I sort of lived here for a bit. Unofficially.” Rio’s favorite part about showing the building off to people was getting to the empty clearing where it sat shrouded by magic. “Actually Winston and I are working on digitizing it! They’re building a website and everything and I’m working on moving things over but… well you’ll see for yourself. It’s a lot of stuff to switch over.” Rio moved towards the rotting tree, using the same method his uncle had shown him so many years ago to make the building visible. Once he was done it was as if an invisible fog began to lift as the building slowly became visible. “So uh- The building looks old but I promise it’s safe. The library is a little cleaner than the rest of the space.”

Connor followed, grateful he hadn’t worn any of his nicer clothes for this trip. “This town and its bloody forests,” he joked, grunting as a branch snagged on his jeans. “How’d you even find this place?” It didn’t seem like the sort of place you’d stumble on by accident. Which was probably a good thing, because having all this information out in the woods stuck him as pretty risky. “Winston’s your room mate, yeah? I think Blanche or someone mentioned they’re into computers and gaming and stuff.” He watched as Rio found the way in, raising an impressed eyebrow. “Damn, should’ve filmed this part so I can come back later without you,” he teased. “I’m not scared of rotting old buildings, mate. Look who you’re talking to.” He turned on the GoPro to take some shots, and pulled out his phone too for good measure. He’d probably set up a steady-cam when they were settled in. “Are there ghosts here? It seems haunted as fuck,” he snickered, but followed Rio inside, wide-eyed and impressed. “Damn, I could spend hours exploring this place.” 

“Well this building used to belong to a group of people called the Scribes,” Orion began explaining, though he didn’t want to focus too much on them and bore Connor to sleep, “They used to keep records of the supernatural. My uncle wanted to be one of them. He showed me this place when I was a kid.” Rio was actually surprised that Connor hadn’t met Winston yet given the way the town usually worked, “Yeah! I moved in with them and our roommate Ricky a few months ago. Winston’s a genius with all the computer stuff, way better than me.” Probably not the best resume seller when Connor had just officially hired him to help film and edit, but Rio tended to be painfully honest. Especially when it came to complimenting Winston. “Ha! Okay, yeah fair point. You are alarmingly unafraid of sketchy architecture.” Rio opened the front doors and made his way down the hallways, winding back through the building and towards the library. “Your guess is as good as mine, honestly. I’ve never seen but, but I guess I wouldn’t. You might like to hear that this place has a ton of rooms that are locked and I still can’t get open.”

Rio wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, clearly something that might pique Connor’s curiosity. At the end of the hallway, Rio pushed the big door open into the massive library, book shelves going two more levels and sprawling from floor to ceiling. “Yeah it’s uh- pretty crazy right? This is why I’m still working on digitizing” Rio shrugged but found one of the old work desks and jumped up on it, pulling his laptop free from his bag and opening it up. “But I do have the place mostly organized. My guess is we should start in the section about ghosts and spirits?”

"Oh yeah. I think I've heard of 'em. Used to safeguard supernatural knowledge, have big old archives and stuff. I guess that makes sense." Connor knew about ghosts, demons and the varying types of supernatural to the extent that was expected for someone who made his living filming videos about it, but when they made their way to the massive library, he was struck with the realisation that no matter how much he tried to learn, there'd always be more to know. The fact both excited and intimidated him. "This is sick, mate," he said, rubbing his hands together with enthusiasm as he scoured the shelves. "Right, where’s that section then? We should start with Bloody Mary, yeah? And then maybe possessions and polters, see if we can find something that'll help Nadia and my mate." 

Orion liked seeing people’s reactions to the place. It reminded him of his own reaction when his uncle had brought him here so many years ago. Rio had always been fascinated with books and learning, so his excitement wasn’t surprising. But he liked seeing how his friends reacted to the space. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” Rio laughed, pointing over one of the tables, “I keep a hoard of snacks under the table over there. I got soda and junk food if you want to grab anything.” Rio would swoop by and grab something once he figured out exactly where they would start looking. Though he was far from ever completing his goal of completely digitizing the place, Rio had gotten the place fairly organized and had mostly made sure that things had stayed organized. To the point that Rio asked when people borrowed things they just returned them on the tables so Rio could be in charge of putting them back.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be an entire journal labelled Bloody Mary. But until then I think we will just have to scour the section on spirits and hope for the best.” Orion wished he had something more concrete, but for now he could only hop up from the table and lead Connor towards the ghost section, taking a small detour to grab a drink before doing so. The ghost section stayed on the first floor, mostly because it was one of the more common ones he had pulled information for. Side effects of his friendship with Blanche no doubt. “Pull anything that looks like it might be useful and we can start going through them, okay? Some of the old Scribes kept journals and I’ll grab them just in case something like this has appended before.” 

"I love places like this," Connor enthused, hands running along the spines of the dusty books on the shelves. He could see why Rio and Winston were having a tough job digitalizing everything. "It's like a supernatural treasure trove. Do they have anything else cool? Old artefacts or anything?" His inner supernatural geek bubbled to the surface for a few moments before he remembered why they were here, and he gave a shrug. "Something cool to look into after we sent Bloody Mary Bloody Packing," he said with a goofy smile. "It can't all be doom and gloom." Connor had a knack for finding the silver lining in dark situations. He liked to think it was part of what made him fun to watch. 

"Ghosts and spirits and ghoulies... but first, snacks." He went to where Rio had pointed, a bag of gummy bears and Lays potato chips. He'd just have to wipe his hands before touching the books. He munched on Rio's offerings as he perused the shelves, doing his best to contain his curiosity and only dig out what they actually needed. "Here's one on Malevolent Spirits. Maybe she's in there." He placed it on the pile, along with whatever Rio had pulled. "Ghosts of Scottish Legend? Sure, why not." Within a few minutes, they had quite the pile to get started on. 

“Me too, obviously. I still have a whole makeshift bedroom set up just in case I stay here too late.” Orion laughed, happy to have another person to share the knowledge with. “This place has a ton of stuff that I still don’t know about, honestly. I’ve always just been too afraid to explore the place by myself. Plus some of the doors are magically sealed. I can’t get them open.” Rio hadn’t put much thought into trying to get them open, honestly. He was curious by nature, but that curiosity wasn’t nearly as strong as Rio’s fear of danger. Way too many things could be behind that door.

Rio didn’t waste any time once they had built their stack of books. Rio wasn’t much fun once he dove into research. He had an ability to completely block out the world while he was skimming the pages. Rio flipped through pages quickly, scanning for keywords that might give any inclination that Bloody Mary had shown up before. Bonus points if there’s a way to get rid of her. Or them. Did evil spirits identify with a certain gender? Rio wasn’t willing to interrupt his reading to entertain the question. He finally perked up from his spot once he had find something interesting, mindlessly waving his hand and smacking against the table top to grab Connor’s attention. “Hey. Look at this. This chapter talks about a female spirit that anyone can see. Not just mediums or undead. The description sounds eerily like how I would describe Bloody Mary.” He handed the book of to Connor to take a look at and see for himself.

"A bedroom?" Connor teased, giving him a playfully flirtatious snicker. "My book collection brings all the boys to the yard?" Luckily, Connor wasn't actually trying to get laid, so he didn't really care if his jokes were shit. "Damn. I'd make it a challenge to open those doors." A task for another time, definitely, but one Connor certainly wouldn't forget. "How'd you come to know about this place and be the designated book-lord, anyway?" he asked, still snacking as they worked through pages, and pages, and more pages. 

Interest piqued, hopes perhaps just a little bit higher than they'd been before coming in, Connor leaned in to get a closer look at the passage Rio was talking about. "Did they give her a name? I've looked up 'Bloody Mary' in a bunch of these indexes and most of them so far take me to passages that say she's just fictional." 

“Ha ha. Hilarious.” Orion rolled his eyes at Connor but laughed. He handled the shameless flirting surprisingly well, considering how he used to be whenever someone pretty so much as spoke to him, let alone flirt. But Rio supposed a lot of that anxiety was taken away once he had started dating Winston. “It’s more like a community room anyways. It let my Scribes have a place to crash if they were deep into research. The place has a bunch of bunk beds.” Something from Connor’s tone of voice told him that the room research would be coming up at another, less chaotic time. “My uncle knew about the Scribes. He was training to be one right before the Scribes bit the dust. He brought me here when I was a kid. I think I might have been the only one in town that even knew the place was here until I started to show it to people.”

“Um, give me a minute” Orion pulled the book back towards him to scan through further, flipping pages until he finally found the word, “A theory. Right here, he says that it has a lot of similarities to modern day myths about Bloody Mary. I don’t think this guy ever confirmed anything though.” Rio flipped a few more pages, “Looks like he did some sort of study. Tried to gather a bunch of people to see who could see bloody mary.” Rio passed the book off to Connor again.

Connor edged closer to Rio to get a good look at the book. “Lemme see that…” He replaced whatever book he’d been nose-deep in with the one Rio had been reading. “You know, I think this might be her.” He read through the rest of the page, his eyes zeroing in on something down near the bottom. “Oh, mate…” He pointed to the passage, reading it out loud. “The spirit targeted only those who had taken human life; those who were innocent were spared.” He flipped through to the next page, which was so heavily water damage that it was barely more than a blur. “Great. The part about how they got rid of her is gone.” 

Though it hardly helped many others in this town, Orion breathed a sigh of relief that Bloody Mary only targeted murderers. It was a bit of a relief to know that he didn’t have to worry about the ghost trying to kill him. Whatever confidence he had dropped when he realized that the same couldn’t be side for the majority of his friend group. He knew for sure that Winston, Blanche and Nell had been involved in the resurrection of Nell’s sister. He also knew exactly what they had done in order to bring her back. And Rio wasn’t naive enough to believe that Adam had never taken a life. The anxiety spiked again and Rio forced it down by focusing instead on Connor’s words. “Great. Water damage. Of course.” Rio sighed and slid off of the table to grab his laptop. “I’m going to see if there’s anything else in here by the same Scribe that wrote that. If we can’t find anything then maybe… try to find some sort of spellcaster? If this thing was summoned, maybe someone knows ways to reverse it.”

Connor’s throat was dry, his cheeks warm as the feeling of concern overcame him. “Does that mean those high school kids who’d summoned her killed someone?” he asked, mostly to himself. “Or maybe the rule doesn’t apply if you summon her. Like, you sort of take that risk upon yourself by bringing her into the world.” He pulled out his phone to take a photo of the pages, sending them along to Nell, Adam, Jasmine and Blanche. “That’s a good idea.” Unlike Rio, he knew nothing of any potential murderers among his friends, but his interaction with Adam down at the river stuck out like a sore thumb in his mind. Adam didn’t know if he’d killed that girl or not. He’d been too drunk to remember. It had been an accident, but maybe Mary wouldn’t see it that way. “We really need to find a way to get rid of her.”

“Good question. I’ve heard summoning stuff is dangerous anyways. Maybe they did something wrong and that’s how they ended up dead. Either way it’s sad.” Orion couldn’t imagine willingly being part of something like that back when he was in high school. But he didn’t know the context of their situation. Regardless, now Rio and Connor and whoever else was around were stuck with cleaning up the mess. “Well, I can tell it’s going to be a long night. Maybe I can talk Blanche into picking up a pizza and meeting us here. Turn this into a study party? I have lots of energy drinks. Plus beds if you want to crash part way through the night!” Maybe they’d get lucky and come across something useful.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 12

First part

Previous

~~~

Tim was separated from the only two people in the country he knew within seconds of the lunch bell ringing.

Marinette had been called up by the teacher. Apparently, she was class president last year and she held the duties until the next election. She gave a tiny sigh as she released Tim’s hand and gave both him and Adrien kisses on the cheek before heading out with Mme. Bustier.

Adrien, at least, was still in the room. Unfortunately, though, he was completely surrounded by his classmates, who were all clamoring for pictures of his notes.

He crossed his arms over his chest awkwardly as he stood outside the door, waiting for either of his friends to appear.

The door swung open and out walked Lila.

Damn it, he’d held Marinette’s hand too long and her bad luck had rubbed off on him.

He sighed. “What do you want?”

She smiled sweetly at him, twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers. “I just wanted to show the new kid around some.”

“Wouldn’t that be Marinette’s job as class rep?”

Lila sighed and shook her head slowly. “Oh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I wouldn’t get too close to Mari.”

He raised his eyebrows. A little late for that, but he supposed he may as well ask: “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, she’s a bit of a bully.” She looked at the ground. “Did she ever tell you about all the times she tried to ‘prove’ that I wasn’t actually disabled? Just because she didn’t like me? We hadn’t even talked, she was just mad I was talking to Adrien!”

A frown made its way across his face. Sure, it wasn’t at all like the Marinette he knew, but how well did he know her? He’d never seen how she interacted with people she didn’t like… and hadn’t he seen just how ruthless she could be when she wanted to that first day with ‘bowling’? In the way her expression hardened when Joker or Harley were mentioned?

He leaned against the wall. “There are other things?”

Lila’s head jerked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“You said ‘for one thing’. That implies more.”

“You’d think bullying would be enough…” Said Lila with a frown, but she continued: “Secondly, I think she’s a gold digger.”

His mind wandered to the few times Bruce had tried to buy something for her. How she’d ended up hiding money around for him to find so he couldn’t force it back into her hands. He gave a soft laugh. No, he wasn’t concerned about that. “Well, I can say she isn’t.”

Besides, if anyone here was a gold digger, it was probably Lila. Her eyes had lit up at the Wayne name. Projecting much?

She didn't seem all that convinced. “I just think it’s a little suspicious that she goes after you, Kagami, and Adrien. The girl has a pattern, and it’s money.”

He snickered. “Okay, and what about Chloe Bourgeois?”

“Chloe?” Said Lila slowly. “How do you know about Chloe?”

He frowned. “She’s in our class, right?”

“Well, yes, but they don’t talk or anything. How’d you know about her?”

“Simple: I’m her soulmate.”

Lila blanked. There was a few moments where she apparently rebooted, and then she scoffed. “Are you sure about that? Marinette likes to lie. A lot.”

“Pretty sure. Unless you know some other designers, who live in France, who bakes a lot, who carries a yoyo in their pocket, who also happens to love her parents.”

She finally stopped twirling her hair, shoving her hands in her pockets as she mulled this over. “Congrats on finding your soulmate,” she said in the same begrudging tone that siblings use when their parents make them apologize to each other. “But…”

“But…?”

Lila leaned forward conspiratorially. “I think she might be working for Hawkmoth.”

Don’t. Laugh.

He shook his head, pursing his lips together tightly to stop himself from laughing. When he was sure that he could keep a straight face, he mumbled a “yeah, no.”

She shrugged. “Don’t believe me? She disappears during every akuma and she’s never been akumatized. I’m telling you, she’s working with him!”

He couldn’t help it anymore, he snickered. Sure, the girl had gathered some pretty good evidence, but she’d come to the complete wrong conclusion. Before he could really come up with a reason for why he was so convinced that she couldn’t be working with him, he spotted Marinette running back to the classroom.

Tim watched her eyes narrow when she spotted Lila and raised his eyebrows. Sure, three out of four of Lila’s points were wrong, but the first one still concerned him.

Marinette gave a forced smile as she came to a stop beside him. “Ready for your tour? I even got special permission to take you out of school for lunch today,” she chirped, holding up two tiny slips of paper.

He smiled faintly. “How’d you manage that?”

“I let it slip to the principal that I was showing around Tim Drake-Wayne. They practically begged me to keep the school food away from you.” She winked, then her eyes found their way to Lila. Her smile lessened. “Lunch is almost over for you, Lila, you should get something to eat. What with your weak immune system and all, we wouldn’t want you to get sick, would we?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and glanced at Lila, who sighed like this was a regular occurrence.

“Fine, Mari, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted.” She leaned up and kissed Tim on the cheek before he could really react. “A presto,” she said, sending a grin over her shoulder as she walked off.

He gave a tiny wave and then glanced at Marinette.

“You’re crumpling the papers.”

She snapped out of it and frowned, looking down at the passes. She loosened her grip and started smoothing them out with her fingers. “Right. Sorry. Let’s go.”

~

She should have warned him about Lila. She had no clue what the liar had said about her, but it clearly was affecting Tim. Earlier he’d been holding her hand and now he would barely even look her in the eyes.

She stared at the empty cup of coffee in front of her as they waited for the waiter to come back with their food in silence.

A tiny part of her was tempted to just let Lila have him. She’d managed to get everyone else, had picked off all her friends one by one. Even Adrien would usually eat with Nino. At this point, she was starting to think it would be easier to just let go of the hope that she could really have friends while she lived in Paris. It would certainly feel better than grasping onto him desperately only to lose him…

She pulled her yoyo from her pocket and started messing with it.

One attempt. She’d give herself one attempt.

“What did she tell you?”

He looked at her. Finally.

“She obviously told you something. What was it?”

He finished off his coffee and set down his cup. “She said you’re a bully.”

“Well, she’s a compulsive liar.”

“She said the same about you.”

She cursed as her yoyo tangled itself and started fixing the string. “And you’re going to believe her over me?”

He reached across the table and gently pulled the yoyo from her fingers and started working the knots out. “Normally, I wouldn’t, but…” He sighed lightly. “Would she really have a reason to fake an illness?”

Marinette blinked, then shook her head. “That wasn’t the first lie I figured out. The first one was --.” She cut herself off and gave the waiter an awkward smile as he set down a plate of waffles.

The teens mumbled their thanks and he left.

She switched to English for her next sentence: “She lied about being friends with Ladybug.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She frowned. He didn’t trust her. Great. She had proof, at least. She scrolled through the Ladyblog for a while before handing over the video of Lila claiming to be Ladybug’s best friend.

“So... she lied once to seem cool to her new classmates and you decided that was enough to never trust her again?”

She wanted to kick something. Seriously? She pulled her yoyo back from him and started pulling on the string as hard as she could. She needed her yoyo back. She needed to calm down. She needed --.

Her eyes spotted a black and purple speck on the horizon and she squeaked.

Fuck. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t get akumatized. She wouldn’t be able to fix things if she was akumatized. She couldn’t let someone die because of her --.

Tim followed her gaze and cursed quietly. “Listen, Nette, I’m sorry! I believe you!”

“I’m not stupid, Tim! I know you’re just saying that!” She hissed.

Angry tears formed behind her eyes. All the emotions she’d been holding back since Hawkmoth had begun his reign of terror were threatening to fall through and she couldn’t let that happen. God, she was feeling so much and she couldn’t handle it and she couldn’t allow herself to even try and someone was letting the akuma in and --.

She shut down.

Her emotions went from feeling like they were suffocating her to being practically nonexistent. She sunk in her seat, barely even paying attention to all the people scrambling for cover as fast as they could. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything at all.

The akuma paused inches away from her yoyo and she watched with a blank face as it slowly turned around and fluttered out the way it had come.

“Nette?” Said Tim quietly, his eyes not leaving the akuma.

She closed her eyes.

One attempt, she told herself. One last attempt.

“I’ll admit, I definitely didn’t like that Lila was getting close to Adrien and it made me more bitter and skeptical about everything she said than I should have been… but I still caught her in actual lies. About who she knows, about the things she’s done, about her illnesses, about everything. And I called her out on it every time, it’s why she’s so determined to keep everyone away from me. With more lies, of course, but they always have just enough truth that everyone believes her and nothing I do ever seems to be enough to convince them.”

Tim said nothing for a moment…

And then she felt his hand rest over hers.

“I believe you… but --.”

She groaned. “Great. I tried. Want a tour before we stop talking to each other forever?”

“Not like that. I’m just saying… for all of her lies, she was projecting: bullying, gold digging, lying…”

She nodded slightly. “Sure. So?”

“She also accused you of working for Hawkmoth.”

Her eyes snapped open.

~~~

Next part

“I can’t wait to see what Lila does”

Me, staring at my outline, which just says “Lila but better but also stupid”: yeah me too buddy

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka  @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me

[hargroves-angel]

you and billy get in a fight and he asks max for help

I Really Fucking Like You Billy Hargrove

Summary - Billy does something he regrets but lets his temper get the best of him resulting in you and him having an argument, however this just makes Billy even more angry causing Max to help her step brother out.

Warnings - Swearing, Billy being mean, Angst, Fluff

A/N - So sorry that this took so long to get out I’ve got a lot to do this week so uploads are going to be spaced out, I hope that’s ok, I apologise in advance though angels!

The front door slammed shut gaining Max’s attention away from her homework. Billy was obviously home. he’d actually been pretty happy recently especially after having been dating you. He just hadn’t stopped smiling, she thought he was sick! you were having some sort of effect on him and it was quite scary for Max, someone had tamed the beast in her eyes. 

Billy hadn’t stopped being annoying but he wasn’t as mean, he even apologised to her for the whole car and her friends incident. 

“Fucking bitch” Billy grumbled as he walked past her open door. “Turn down that fucking music!” he yelled at her from his room. She rolled her eyes but none the less turned it down, going to shut her door. 

That’s when she got really confused. Were those sobs? from Billys room? Was he crying?

She peaked her head round the gap of his door. 

He had his head in his hands. She glanced around at the room seeing how much you really had changed him, everywhere was clean. No dirty washing, no empty beer cans, no cigarette butts in the ash tray. it was so clean. 

“What the fuck do you want shithead?” Billy growled. 

“What happened?” Billy shook his head and laughed lowly. 

“Why do you even care?” He shoved his head back in his hands. Max slowly crept over to sit next to him on the bed. 

“Because like you said, we’re family now… we’ve got to look out for each other” she mumbled cringing at her words as she looked around at his transformed room. To be honest you should come round more often, her room could do with a reorganisation.

“yeah well whatever, doesn’t even matter anyway”

“It clearly matters Billy, I’ve never seen you cry-”

“I wasn’t even crying… that much. Basically we went to a party and I got really drunk, I ended up kissing some girl… I thought it was Y/N, I promise I thought it was her- Same hair, same eyes, same everything to me at the time. The worst part is that this girl pulled me in for the kiss first and me thinking it was Y/N - I just kissed back” Max sucked in a breath. “I should’ve known it wasn’t her - and then I started yelling at her… Fuck I feel so bad” Billy shoved his head in his hands. 

“Well I think… the best thing is to talk to her”

“Ive already done that Maxine, she doesn’t want to talk about it”

“I don’t think think yelling about your point is the same as talking Billy” Max mumbled. 

“Whatever, It’s just she deserves more then just some half assed apology… She’s so important to me Max…”

“How about tomorrow you show up at her house, pick her up and take her to that movie she wanted to watch”

“What movie?” Billy asked genuinely confused.

“she’s been talking about it loads! It’s all she mentions?” 

With that Billy shoved his head right back in his hands. “I didn’t even fucking know that- you know what Maxine, fuck you! get the fuck out of my room now”

“Wait what?!” Max furrowed her eyebrows and huffed.

“Just fucking get out!” Billy yelled at her. Max knew better than to stay, she stomped out. Billy was definitely falling hard for Y/N, in a way it amused her, to see him even getting all angry every time a love song played, let’s just say he’s been working out a lot recently, he was hitting the weights every chance he got whilst the radio played some sort of love song, but it was when your song came on did she see Billy really fall apart, he dropped the weight on the floor and stomped into his room, anger and hurt radiating off him.  

Thats when she felt bad, he usually didn’t give a shit, every girl he’d been with eventually got mad or fed up of his antics and he would come home, bitch about them and then sleep it off not even caring about it the next day. He was so grumpy now a days so she had to do something. So she made a plan, she was going to get you two back together again. God knows you were both way too stubborn and Billy had locked himself at home for the most part, rock music blaring through the walls, the heavy stench of cigarettes and Mary-Jane coming from his room, but as much as she disliked her older step brother she knew she had to help him. 

You were definitely the nicest girl he’d dated. 

So that’s what she did. At 7am sharpish she asked Billy to take her to the lake, to “Meet some friends” He said no at first obviously so she did a bit of extra planning and made a deal, Dad won’t know about weed as long as Billy agrees to take her. He agreed eventually. 

Little did billy know that he was to meet you at that lake. Max had told you to meet her at the lake because she wanted to talk about ‘girl problems’ shed been having and she didn’t want to say it at home because it was embarrassing. 

Billy drove the whole way, cigarette dangling from his lips, sunglasses covering his sleep deprived eyes. 

She noticed how he hadn’t been sleeping recently. He’d been up all night crying but she wouldn’t tell him she knew because he sure as hell would have her for it. 

she impatiently tapped her foot on the floor of the Camaro, her lip caught between her teeth as she chewed on it nervously. This could go a few ways, either Billy gets hurt or you get hurt or maybe you make up. She hoped that you would make up. 

“Would you quit fucking tapping, so fucking annoy-” He paused as he saw you, he pulled into the clearing. 

“I have to go! Ummm maybe you should talk to her” Max ran out of the car. 

“You little fucking sh-” He stopped as he watched you turn around, your eyes landing on the blue car. He saw your smile slip, your eyebrows furrowing and a frown on your face. 

You were wearing his AC/DC shirt. He sighed, opening the door the cigarette being discarded on the floor. 

“Hey!, angel… look im really fucking sorry princess”

“Really Billy! Because Dana told me you didn’t care” You huffed. 

“Look just let me explain…” He felt his patience wearing thin. 

“No Billy! Because every time I let you ‘explain’ you end up yelling at me! telling me it’s my fault and im sorry but I don’t think I can-”

“I DON’T FUCKING YELL” He yelled. A regretful expression on his face as he carded his hands through the ends of his hair. He realised what he’d done, he sighed. “Im working on it baby” his eyes flickered to the floor. “It’s just gonna take time… I promise im working on it” 

“How much time Billy!? Because we’ve been together for 3 months now and you still have this temper! You don’t know how to control yourself, sometimes I get scared, and I know you won’t ever hurt me but, its just I hate this constant screaming match between us, I really fucking like you Billy Hargrove”

He sniffed, his nose scrunching as he looked away, thinking. He felt his eyes gloss over with tears again. He hated crying in front of you. He sniffed again, his face getting more scrunched up as he tried to hold back the tears. he felt your arms wrap around his waist. Your head rest against his chest as you held him. He’d cuddled you before, hell you’d hugged so many times but this felt like more. 

He felt the tears fall. You looked up at him and cradled his cheek in your hand. He still looked the other way, he hated you to see him like this.

“I really fucking like you” you whispered he stood stiff, not being used to this full out intimate feeling. He started to blink and shift his head to look down at you. he placed his hand on top of your one which was holding his cheek. 

“Im sorry…” he mumbled, his eyes were red and puffy. You nodded. 

“I know baby, it’s ok. I believe you over Dana, and im sorry for being impatient, you’re right, we are working on it… slowly but surely” You got on your tip toes to kiss him, he leaned down to meet your lips. you kissed passionately for what felt like hours until Max intervened. 

“Finally you’ve made up! Now can we stop being so dramatic and get home because I can’t do much with a skateboard in a wooded area” She held up her skateboard, her eyebrows raised at you both. 

“Sometimes I really fucking despise you Maxine, but you get the day off for now” Billy grumbled. His arm wrapping around your waist as you kissed his cheek. 

“You need a shower Hargrove, you reek of weed” You giggled into his ear. 

“Suppose you’re gonna have to take one with me, make sure im getting the smell out and everything” he mumbled.

“Ugh get a room” Max cringed as she shoved herself back into Billys car. Thank god she’d gotten you two back together otherwise she’d have to listen to (in her opinion) Billys god awful music for hours. she rolled her eyes and smirked at him. As much of a dick he was, he was family now. 

[moniire]

All the classic author asks pls!!!

Okay, I didn’t imagine that someone would reply so quickly, but I suppose I have the time.

Mary Shelley: Were you a goth, prep, nerd, or jock in school?

I’m a nerd, as far as I’m aware. I have a little bit of goth in me, I suppose, but that part rarely rears its head in public.

Zora Neale Hurston: Do you write in your free time? If so, then what do you write?

I don’t write a lot as I’m incredibly fussy and I find it hard to come up with plots or make my writing flow. I do write some drabble occasionally, in the form of very short stories, but they rarely have an actual plot. It would be my dream to actually be able to finish a proper short story.

J.D. Salinger: What was the last movie you watched?

I’m pretty sure it was North by Northwest, but I don’t remember exactly.

Alice Walker: What was the first “adult” book you ever read?

The first properly graphic book I read was, I believe, A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin. I was 13 at the time.

Bram Stoker: Do you prefer suspenseful horror movies, gore, or jump scares?

I absolutely hate jumpscares. If you send me anything with jumpscares I will probably cry. But I immensely enjoy suspense and gore has never really phased me (apart from stuff with eyes). Many of my favourite shows and movies have a good mix of them. 

Oscar Wilde: What book have you read more than once?

Oh, hundreds of them. My favourite re-reads are probably the Howl series by Diana Wynne Jones. Childhood classics!

Beatrix Potter: Do you like reading inside or outside?

I’d say inside usually, but it honestly depends on the weather and location. A sunny bench in a quiet park? Sure, I’d go for it. But a rainy, crowded street? Perhaps not.

Ann Radcliffe: What’s something you’re known for among your friends or family?

There are a few things. Firstly, I’d say my height is a big one, at least on my mother’s side of the family. I’m really tall for my age - 6’ or thereabouts - and taller than everyone on my mother’s side. My grandparents on my father’s side have actually been measuring the family’s heights against a wall since the early 2000s. Seeing the progression is pretty cool.

Among my friends, I’d say either my speech patterns or my ability to remember little tidbits of information that I’ve been told years ago. Despite coming from an area with a very distinct, “non-posh” accent, I speak a lot of the time with an enunciated, stereotypically British accent. When I get angry or excited, I tend to speak with a slight Irish accent, and the list goes on. No idea where I picked this up, but it’s apparently very humorous. The latter is a bit of an inside joke, as normally my memory is quite bad. However, I occasionally come out with bits of information that people have no memory of telling me. There have luckily been only a few awkward situations due to this.

Lord Byron: What’s a negative quality that you can admit to having?

I’m very insensitive at times and have had multiple friends call me out on statements that I meant as jokes or constructive criticism, but they found incredibly hurtful. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay: Do you have a favourite poem or one you can recite?

La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Keats, The Orange by Wendy Cope, How Do I Love Thee (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Browning and When You Are Old by Yeats are the ones that spring to mind.

The ones I can recite are La Belle Dame, Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy and most of the Relationships Anthology for GCSE English Lit. 

Jane Austen: Have you ever fallen in love?

That one’s difficult. I fall in love every day with places and things and experiences. With books and artworks and music. 

But I presume this means people. And honestly, I don’t know. I thought I was in love once, with a boy whom I met through a friend. He was beautiful and talented, but what stood out was that he could talk. I was sick of people who seemed to have no wider perspective or opinions, or, if they did, kept it firmly under lock and key. But he would always find a new topic to talk about, without me even needing to start a conversation. Art installations at our local gallery, religious ideology, politics, music. And it was wonderful. 

I spoke with him for maybe 30 minutes a month at most, with the rare exception of protests or marches, but they were bright and intriguing and he made me feel like I’d swallowed a star every time I saw him.

But alas, it came to an end as all good things do. We drifted and, since he didn’t seem to text, we stopped speaking almost altogether.

But was I in love? I still don’t know

Langston Hughes: If you could be part of a literary era, which one?

I feel like this is predictable but the Romantic/Gothic era (1780s - 1830s) because, whilst I’ll admit that women’s rights most definitely were non-existent, it has to be my favourite one literary-wise

Emily Dickinson: What’s the last book you were reading?

Blackhearts in Battersea by Joan Aiken. I wanted something quick and nostalgic for a change.

John William Polidori: What was the last book you finished?

See above answer

Stendhal: Have you ever hid a book you were reading because you were embarrassed? 

When I originally read the ASOIAF series, I, of course, had to read it in school as well, because I wasn’t switching books for school and for home and I obviously needed something to read at lunch. Scared of getting judged by peers or getting the book confiscated by teachers, I hid it in the dust jacket of another book. I can’t remember which, but, surprisingly, it worked.

Charles Dickens: What book are you currently reading?

E. H. Gombrich’s A Little History of the World. Again, written for children, but one I immensely enjoy and very informative on a wide variety of countries. 

Thomas Hardy: Are you a city or country person?

I want to say a mix of both. I love the city I live in and its bustle and shops and life, but I also love the countryside with its greenery and cosy intimacy. I do hate the insects though.

Virginia Woolf: What book has been on your TBR longer than a year?

Pride & Prejudice. I just haven’t gotten around to it, though I’m sure I will soon.

And finally…

Edith Wharton: What’s your favourite season for reading?

Winter, easily. Curling up to read is hard if you’re all sweaty and can’t concentrate on the words because of it. Winter gives me an excuse to pile on the jumpers and blankets, heat up the hot chocolate and just read. Plus, winter often means visits to Ireland to see my grandparents, who have the cosiest living room ever, which doubles as my all-time favourite reading environment. 

That was quite a task. I might have gone off on one in some of these, but I hope this answers it all nicely.

[justlightthefirstspark]

Utd vs Reading 02/02/2020

Or, as @danieljamesmufc so eloquently put it, ‘The Battle of The Baes’ (Baes in question obviously being Amy Turner and Angharad James)

Anywho, there isn’t much of a ~detailed~ analysis like other pieces have had. A lot of the plays (and therefore, issues) are the same every game, and I don’t wanna keep repeating myself by making the same points week in and week out. Also, this game was kinda scrappy and not much really happened - until the end but we will get there in due time. I have a LOT of thoughts about the end of this game.

Few small changes in the XI - due to McManus picking up an injury vs Chelsea, Amy came back in at CB which was just

And then I saw Harris at RB 😐 I think I’ve made my feelings about that very clear, and I don’t wanna start hating on Martha for the sake of it, but Smith is the better of the two imo. And I just can’t see why Casey keeps insisting on playing TWO natural RB’s when she has a natural LB sitting on the bench ALL THE TIME, collecting splinters in her arsecheeks. It’s annoying, and I’m kinda sick of it.

Lizzie Arnot dropped out of the XI, in favour of Jane Ross for this one, and everything else was pretty much the same as Wednesday night.

Also, and I would really appreciate some help/info/whatever you’ve all got for this, but I was under the impression that Amy couldn’t (or at least, wasn’t really supposed to) play 3 games in one week? I’m like 90% sure that Casey benched her a few times in the second half of last season for this exact reason? Apparently that’s down to the knee injury she had a few years ago, but I would appreciate some clarification on this if anyone has anything 🧐

Also (I’m being annoying now, sorry) but this commentator was... bad. Mispronuncing players names (who is Jackie Groinen?), not even bothering to try and pronounce others (here’s looking at you, Angharad James), misidentifying players, just not really knowing what was happening a solid 83% of the time... idk who she is but she needs to not commentate on a United game again, I can’t listen to her. Girl had some, interesting, opinions too, and I’m quoting her directly now, “United will think that they’re due a defeat” 🧐 I’m not entirely sure how, or why, that would be the case, but apparently both United and Reading have alternating W/L runs in the league and today was Reading’s turn to win? I was confused. I still kinda am. And I didn’t like it.

First half:

The first 10 mins of this were pretty boring tbh. There was an awful lot of back and forth, misplaced passes, interceptions and the like. I think United were just on top in the opening few minutes, judging by the amount of time they spent in Reading’s half, and their possession.

‘8 - Corner and a free kick for United in quick succession. Nothing came from either (surprise surprise), but there was a lovely bit of ball control in the box from Ross after the FK. Just couldn’t get it to Sigsworth (who probably would have scored but we don’t need to talk about it)

‘13 - Another potential Ross/Sigsworth link up in the box but Ross just swept it straight into the legs of a Reading player, instead of passing to Jess on her left 🤷🏽‍♀️ I thought she was okay today, so I won’t give her too much grief for that mistake

‘16 - decent chance for Sigsworth, ended up launching it straight at *insert Reading player here.* Foreal, I have no idea who it was. Sorry. Groenen and Zelem both had decent opportunities following this, but nothing came of either of those

‘17 - Another corner for Utd, wasn’t a great delivery to be honest. Was played out and worked back in, LJ managed to get a shot off but sent it behind with a deflection so yet more corners followed. With nothing coming from any of them - this is starting to be a problem. We never challenge from set pieces, and I’m genuinely starting to wonder why that is? Does someone else need to take them? Or what?

There was *a lot* of midfield action around this time, more back and forth, a few fouls, and free kicks. None of this was noteworthy, hence the lack of notes.

‘21 - Amy stop backpassing challenge. I gave Abbie SO much shit for this vs City and Chelsea (as well as vs Spurs, oops), so I guess it’s Amy’s turn now. Sidenote: I think ‘Turner & Turner’ is my fave chant, the original at least. No disrespect to Abbie but seeing Turner x2 at CB on the teamsheet has me like

‘28 - Earps’ clearnances need work. Like, a lot of work. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m never fully convinced by the ball that leaves her feet, and I don’t think she is either which is an issue 😬

‘29 - GOAL - United. I was literally just making a note on how boring I was finding this game - my highlight by the 28 minute mark was Amy lashing her boot into Tash Harding’s face. Lol. - when Lauren James appears literally out of nowhere and lashes one home. A gorgeous strike, cutting in from the left. This kid is lethal.

‘38 - Today I learned that we really only have one fast defender - Millie. Martha somehow outpaced Amy back with Reading on the break and I think my jaw hit the floor.

‘41 - United have the ball in the back of the net again. Amy got under a well struck free from Zelem and fired it home, but somehow was ruled offside. Clearly this ref and I have very, very different opinions about what the offisde rule actually constitutes, cause she was very much clearly onside.

Idk if you can see properly in those pics, but no one is offside in any of them. You can see in this video too, that Amy is in fact, NOT offside. I’m not having that one, it should have stood. https://twitter.com/48hours8/status/1223984745413038081?s=21

I just. I’m highkey so annoyed. And I’m definitely dragging this out but like

Moving on. That concluded a pretty uneventful half, aside from the goal and the offside that wasn’t actually offside.

Halftime:

Reading made a pretty interesting change at the half, subbing Haz off for LMKU. Maybe LMKU offers more of a threat going forward, but I thought Haz was pretty solid in the first half? She was certainly a lot better today than she was in the reverse fixture - she was shredded by Galton on every single run but I didn’t see her do anything like that this time? Anyway. (Also I’m lowkey sad Amy never got to slide tackle her into the middle of next week)

Second half:

‘47 - Quality build up work down the left and a gorgeous ball into the box from LJ, I fortune my it just brushed past Sigsworth and Ross in the 6 yard box/penalty area. So close to a second for United.

‘51 - a pretty poor free kick from Zelem, and a pretty poor decision and back pass from James. Sometimes I wonder if people on this team think about what they’re doing before they do it 🤗

‘53 - decent chance for Reading, which ultimately comes off the back post. United very lucky to get away with that one.

‘59 - Harris was very far forward there for a time. Like in the opposition box forward. Hello, anxiety. Also Amy nearly body checked someone around the same time and I was truly living my best life.

‘61 - Zel with a decent free kick, just couldn’t get the dip it needed to hit the back of the net

‘62 - another good strike from LJ, unfortunately just straight at the keeper.

‘63 - Penalty - Reading. Yellow for Amy for pushing Utland (I didn’t catch who it actually was, but according to Reading’s twitter it was LMKU) and conceding the pen.

‘64 - MARY EARPS SAFE HANDS LET’S GOOOO 🗣👏🏽🔥 What a save, my god. I was sure that was going in, but I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong in my life.

‘75 - another great chance for LJ - a lovely strike, think it could have done with a little bit of a chip, and then surely it was going in. Good work from Jess and Jackie in the build up too

‘76 - ‘82. This is where shit got crazy. And I really have no words for what I saw during this 6 minutes. Well, I do have words - I have a lot of them - but most of them aren’t suitable for this platform so I’ll just keep those ones to myself. Never in all my life have I seen such incompetent refereeing. A free kick awarded to Reading on the edge of the box, due to a ‘handball’ (that didn’t happen) by Lauren James, is cleared and HEADED away by Katie Zelem. The ref then proceeds to book Zelem for handball which, unless she suddenly has a third arm growing out of her FACE (I can confirm - she does not), makes absolutely zero sense, and awards Reading another penalty.

Jess also managed to get herself booked for questioning the ref’s decision and defending Katie sjsjsj, and not a single Reading player made a claim for that penalty. Surely, if she had handled the ball, every Reading player in the box would have appealed for it? You can clearly see the ball hit her head in the video linked below, but apparently the arm bone is now connected to the face bone, at least according to this ref anyway. 🙄

https://twitter.com/48hours8/status/1223996019022626821?s=21

I have no more thoughts on whatever happened after that because I had to turn it off before they scored that penalty, otherwise I would have drop kicked my laptop out my window. For what it’s worth, I did think Martha had a decent game today. I still want Smith at RB and Lotta at LB while Amy’s at CB though. You can’t make me change my mind 🤗

This is the third time this week alone that United have been robbed by poor referees, and apparently the ref of the City/Arsenal game today wasn’t much better. I didn’t see that game so I can’t really comment, but I don’t doubt those claims. The standard and quality of refereeing I’ve seen over the past 2 seasons since my introduction to women’s football has been appalling. And it’s not fair, I think this tweet pretty much sums it up.

The FA has pretty much demanded that every team/club in the WSL be full time, it’s about time that they demand the same qualifications and high quality from their officials, because this just isn’t good enough. And not just from the standpoint of a United fan, and in the context of today’s result, but league wide. It’s just not good enough. I’m completley here for literally everybody calling this shambles out for what it is, and the United girls being salty af on the tl.

Sorry that is this kinda long and ranty, but I’m in my feelings about this ref. ✌🏽

[james-pottr]

˜”*°•.˜”*°• 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝕛𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕒 ( @marymacd​ ) •°*”˜.•°*”˜ 

“Wait, start again for me. It’s called a what?”

“A television, James.”

“A tellyvisor?”

The heavy sigh that bursts from Mary’s mouth is almost enough to make James laugh; a small smile of amusement already playing at his lips. Her normally placid and kind expression had crumpled with exacerbation and James only wished he was doing this on purpose so that he might stop.

In all truth, Mary had offered to do something exceptionally kind for him, and he hated that he was being such a bother about it. She was, after all, trying to prepare him for the Muggle world the best she could.

James knew that he could have always asked Lily, who had a far more interesting way of rewarding him for correct answers, but the whole point of such an exercise was to surprise Lily. James wanted to increase his knowledge of Muggle things and ideas so that he might make a good impression on the Evans’. He knew that his natural charm should be enough to win them over, but he was nothing if not an overachiever.

And that was where Mary had come in.

The last thing that James wanted to do when meeting his girlfriend’s parents was to embarrass himself, or them, or Lily with his lack of knowledge. Nor, he supposed, did he want to give her sister any more reason to hate his guts.

(Though with the way Lily spoke about Petunia, he had a feeling she would hate him regardless).

So with that in mind, James had set his plan in motion.

𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖕 𝕺𝖓𝖊: 𝕲𝖊𝖙 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖞'𝖘 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

This had been simultaneously the easiest and hardest part of the whole endeavour. How could he get Mary alone without arousing suspicion from just about every single one of their mutual friends? He liked Mary, he really did, and he knew he could probably call her his friend, but there was no pretending that she wasn’t Lily’s friend first.

This wasn’t like with Marlene, who had always been equally James and Lily’s at the same time, nor was it like Sirius, who James was pretty certain still didn’t trust Lily completely, despite the fact James was head-over-heels. Not that he’d acknowledge it to his best friend’s face, but James had a feeling Sirius was behaving rather like a small child who didn’t want to share a toy. 

Instead, it was more like Mary had always been on the peripheral of James’ world. She wasn’t practically family like Marls, nor was she the centre of his fascination like Lily. She was just...Mary. Solid, dependable Mary and someone James was pretty glad he was getting to know.

But growing friendships aside, it wasn’t like he could just be like “Oi, Macdonald, need to speak with you” without arousing suspicion and Merlin apparently forbid she ever study alone.

So desperate times called for desperate measures.

He jinxed her shoes.

Not drastically. Just enough that she would trip over her shoelaces and drop her belongings everywhere. And okay, maybe he had timed it right before Lily had a meeting with McGonagall and when Remus was out sick, so that James was the only one around that could swoop in like a true gentleman and save the day.

It was hard not to pump his fist in glee at how well it worked.

Mary, however, seemed less than pleased.

“Tell me you had nothing to do with this,” she had said suspiciously as he ducked down to scoop up the scattered pieces of parchment. James tried his best to look as innocent as possible, but there was a strong chance he just came off mildly constipated. His attempts lasted only a few more seconds before he gave in with a deep sigh and a crooked grin. He’d only just convinced Mary that he wasn’t as much of an idiot as she thought he was; they didn’t need to be taking backwards steps.

“I need your help,” he said, not bothering with her question. They didn’t really have to get into the logistics of the whole tripping jinx, did they? Mary’s whole face seemed to crumble with confusion and as he clamours to his feet, James began to explain, his hands already waving a mile a minute.

“I need you to help me not make an utter prat of myself in front of Lily’s dad.” he spluttered finally, and realisation slowly sank into Mary’s expression. It seemed to take a fair bit of convincing to win her around - although James had a feeling she was just prolonging it to stir him up - as well as at least two strange looks from Sirius when they finally emerged from the classroom, but James was pleased with the progress.

𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖕 𝕿𝖜𝖔: 𝕷𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘

If James had thought trying to get Mary alone long enough to seek her help was hard, it had nothing on their attempts to actually hold their secret Muggle Studies meetings. Sure, Mary could have just thrown a textbook at his head and told him to read, but James had liked the thought of being taught by someone with actual experience, and he had a feeling that Mary liked the idea of getting to boss him about for a bit. 

The trouble was, of course, they had quite possibly the neediest group of friends he had ever seen. James loved his friends, he did. He would die for Sirius and Remus and Peter, had done many an illegal thing for them, and obviously, Lily and Marlene were the lights of his life in romantically and platonic ways, but did they all have to be so up in his business all the time? 

(Thinking such a thing caused many a restless night of guilt in the weeks following).

The last thing James wanted was to be caught ‘sneaking’ around with Mary, even if their intentions were completely innocent. It was bad enough some of the wankstain Slytherins had already started suggesting James had a 'thing’ for people of a certain blood-status. He just figured that they weren’t smart enough to recognise what a friend was.

So James did what James did best: utterly bullshitted an excuse.

“I’m helping tutor her in Transfiguration. My Head Boy duties and all,” he spluttered one evening after they had run into Lily and Marlene in the halls outside the library. 

Were looks able to kill, James had a strong feeling the one Mary had shot him in response would have murdered him at least four times over. It wasn’t like he could tell them she was tutoring him? A) That would give away the whole plan and B) everyone knew Lily was the one who ‘helped’ him.

“Nothing too huge,” he had continued to say, feeling the way Mary had twitched beside him, as if she wouldn’t mind clocking him upside the head if given the chance. “Just a bit of revision. But...erm...she gets...I mean I get a bit nervous if too many people are watching my teaching abilities, so if we could just get this done and all meet up for dinner later?”

James had waited a few moments to see if either girl in front of him was about to protest what really was a pretty shitty excuse, before he spun on his heel toward the library. Sure, Mary would probably be subjected to a bunch of questions when she got back to her dorm that night, and okay, James himself was certainly going to get interrogated by Marlene later, if not by Lily at the same time, but for that moment, they seemed to have gotten away with it. 

(The unnecessarily hard poke Mary had delivered to his spine in response suggested that they had not).

And all of that had lead to:

 𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖕 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

Underneath his blase and too-cool-for-this attitude, James was a good student. A lot of it was his natural desire to show off or his need to prove something to Professor McGonagall, but he did genuinely enjoy his schoolwork for the most part.

Unofficial Muggle Studies, however, was not where his talents lay.

Mary, to her credit, was doing the absolute best she could. Their usual table in the library was regularly covered with every book on Muggle customs she could find, many of which were wide open to the relevant pages. What they both hadn’t countered for, though, was how complicated everything then got.

“So the televisor-”

“Television.”

“It shows pictures? And they move like wizarding pictures?”

“Almost. They’re a video, so they move and have sound. There’s different channels, so different things can be playing at once. Like the news might be on, or a film, like how the wireless has different stations or programs.” 

“And the televisor-”

“Television.”

“Television. It uses ecclectrisity?”

“Electricity. And yeah. You plug the cord into the wall-socket, erm…”

There is a long pause as Mary flicks through the pages of a book, trying to find the correct diagram before angling it toward James, pressing her fingernail to each picture in turn. 

“This is a wall-socket where the electricity comes from, and this black tube is the cord, and then this on the end is the plug. The prongs-” James smirks. “-stop it, not your daft nickname. The electrical prongs go into the socket, and the outlet sends electricity to power the television. Following?”

The look on James’ face, however, suggests that she had lost him at the mention of his aforementioned daft nickname, and was not following her at all.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes and bop James on the head with a textbook at the same time, Mary chews listlessly on her bottom lip instead.

“I don’t really think you need to worry about knowing how the television works. Just don’t go all goggle-eyed at it if it gets turned on. Her family know you’re a wizard anyway, that you might not understand this stuff.”

James shrugs his shoulders in response. He wasn’t certain as to why he was so desperate to get their approval, other than wanting the Evans’ to understand that he wanted to be a part of their world as much as Lily was a part of his...of theirs.

“I s’pose,” he says listlessly, before shooting Mary a cheeky grin, one that she immediately seems to brace herself against. “How about instead of all this televisor and eccclectricty stuff, we go down to the pitch and practice that no-brooms Quidditch game you showed me?”

“I showed you two, and neither of them are called ‘no-brooms Quidditch’, James.”

“Fine. Please, oh wonderful Mary, can we please go down to the pitch and play soccer?”

“Do we have to?”

“It’s a teaching and learning opportunity.” 

Mary’s facial expression does nothing but express how little she believes what was coming out of James’ mouth, but she stands up, shaking her head regardless, a small smile playing at her mouth as she does so. At least he’d learnt something, she supposes. 

There’s an extra spring in James’ step as they leave the library, having neatly stacked their mess of books on the table behind them, and he can’t help but bump Mary’s shoulder fondly with his own as they walked. “What if we played soccer on brooms?” he asks eagerly, practically bounding down the stairs, much to Mary’s chagrin.

“James, that’s practically just Quidditch,” she splutters, moving to catch up, only to be greeted by a very wide and crooked James Potter smile. 

“That’s exactly the point,” he declares, and despite the fact she still thought him to be a bit of an idiot, Mary can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

Maybe, she supposes, they could be friends without the Lily-factor after all.

𝕖𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕟

[regdaran]

Revenant~Noir                           Chapter 2:Painfull Developments

1 . 2 .

Also see it on Ao3: Here! 

                                               (Marinette)

          Alya had, reasonably, freaked out at the news that the new mystery enemy was in fact the returned Chat Noir. She had panicked more when she found out about what he had done to Ladybugs shoulder. When Nino heard how he shredded her suit, he paled. He picked up his phone and opened the copies of The Miraculous Book he had saved on there. he was still reading. Chloe... still hadn't shown up. She was the only person who took Adriens death harder than Marinette did. Even with all the panicking, and worry... Marinette had to admit, this was going better than she had hoped. Alya had only screamed 'WHAT' twice when she had explained what happened. Though she wished Tikki would contribute to the conversation a bit more, but she had to recharge. Oddly, transforming twice in one night is hard. Speaking of night, it was practically morning. It was 3 AM before she even got home, 4 by the time she was done explaining everything.

           "That's not right."   Nino muttered to himself. "That's not how 'Cataclysm' is supposed to work-"   Before he could finish, another voice piped up. "That wasn't 'Cataclysm'! It was something different."  

           Tikki appeared from out of Marinette's bag, and continued. "Whatever that was, it didn't feel like the miraculous. It felt wrong, while 'Cataclysm' would have destroyed the suit it would have only done that. It would have broken her transformation and stopped there."

            Nino gave Tikki a look, and said: "That is exactly what I was going to say. According to The Miraculous Book there are protections against 'Cataclysm' built into the magic of your suit. A wielder of the  can destroy Miraculous, though eventually they'll reform, and even rip apart the magic of the transformation. He shouldn't be able to hurt a transformed wielder, at least not with any abilities." Marinette interrupted him here. "Like Tikki was saying, I don't think it was 'Cataclysm'. He didn't say the trigger phrase before he attacked. He just... had the power in his hands."   Everyone, Tikki included, looked worried at that.

            " Look. "   Nino started. "I'm not sure about a lot else here, I still can't  decipher most of this thing. Maybe there is something I missed."   While Nino had made great progress as a self-taught guardian, the majority of the book was still gibberish to him. 

           Alya had apparently had enough of being shocked, because she then asked: "How is this even possible? We all saw him die, my god , we went to his funeral! If he dug his way out of his grave, wouldn't it have made the news or something?"   That... was a good point. Marinette nodded her head and spoke up. "We can visit his grave tomorrow morning. Er- this afternoon. Right now, we need to figure out what Chat actually is at the moment. Tikki do you have any idea?"   Marinette looked at Tikki with a questioning gaze. Tikki responded with "I... might... It's be ages since the last one was seen."   She started to hesitate. "Tikki, please if you know something... anything. Please tell us, even if its just a hunch or seems weird. After all, this isn't exactly a normal situation."   Since all of this started, back in school, 'weird' had become a very subjective term. Tikki looked at the floor. then said, in hushed tones: "He is a Revenant."   The silence after was deafening. While Marinette and Alya both wore confused expressions, Nino had blanched again. This time so hard he looked like someone had dipped him in bleach.

           "Well... Shit..."   Marinette was surprised, Nino was rarely the type to curse. "Is it that bad?"   Mari asked. "Hold on, I think I have a chapter on that bookmarked in my copy. Give me a sec."   Said Alya, who then made to read her copy of The Miraculous Book. Nino stopped her there with: "Don't bother, I memorized that section about a month ago. It was hardly even encoded... A plain warning for all to see. Revenants are-"   Then for the second time, he was interrupted. "Revenants are powerful undead that return from the grave with a strong sense of vengeance. When someone is killed, or their death is caused by the action of someone else, If the person dying has a strong enough desire for revenge or justice they will return as a Revenant, and... hunt down their killer or killers."   Alya looked up from her phone for the first time in minutes. "What?"   Nino looked her, and sighed. "Nothing..."  a chuckle "Nothing I wasn’t about to say. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm the new Guardian."   He shook his head, and continued. "I'm not sure, but I don't think the book mentions anything about miraculous wielders ever becoming any kind of undead. The Miraculous and the Kwami are supposed to ensure a peaceful afterlife!"   

        "Plagg always did get too attached..."   Tikki started. "The Cat Miraculous is a conduit for negative energy and destruction, the opposite of me. It's possible that when Adrien died..."  She stopped again. 

"Marinette."

"Yea Tikki?"

         "Remember how I help you heal from any wounds you sustain after a fight. Remember that fight with Mayura, when her sentimonster broke your arm and I was able to heal it after the fight. I'm not the only Kwami that heals their wielder. I'm just the best at it." She said with a small note of pride.  "Plagg, could never heal wounds well. He would always leave scars at best, or make his wielder sick at worst..."

        "You don't think that..."  A turtle spirit said, joining the conversation. "It's taboo! Even you could not complete the ritual. It just takes to much."  Wayzz seamed in a panic now, practical orbiting Ninos head. 

          "What are you all talking about?"  Marinette asked looking between Wayzz and Tikki. 

          Everyone was silent. while it was clear that the other Kwami all knew the story, it was obviously Tikki's tale to tell. "When... When my first wielder died." She began with. emotion painting her words. "We had been together for years and years. I loved her so much, and then she was gone. So, I tried to 'heal' her... It didn't go well."   Her voice started to strain mid way, and it fell apart by the end. 

          Tikki flew into Marinettes arms, seeking comfort from the memory. Then Wayzz spoke up again. "After that, it was made taboo to try and resurrect a wielder. The after effects of all who have tried... created tragedies and horrors alike."   

         Tikki shuddered. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. The best outcome of the ritual is a shadow of the wielder. A shade. Not a Revenant. This should be impossible. If even I could not bring back someone, Plagg should have simply failed."

        "He should have let go!"   Wayzz yelled. Quite a feat for a 2 inch tall turtle. "We have all been taught to let go when our wielders time comes. Plagg has gone to far this time. Raising Adrien as an undead if not only forbidden, but it could damage the boys very soul!"

          Alya, once again tired of being confused, stepped in. "Whoa. Hold on you two. First, Tikki. What are you talking about? You have brought people back from death before a lot. When Siren attacked most of the city drowned, when that zombie hoard came through plenty of people were killed and brought back as undead. What is different this time?"   Marinette had to admit she was wondering the same questions. What was different about Adrien? How had he come back? Was he even him anymore? Does he remember her? She was falling asleep. She could feel herself slipping into it. It was so early. What time was it? It had to be at least 5 by now. Just a few more hours and they could go visit his grave without being incredibly suspicious.

         "Marinette?"   Tikki's voice shook Marinette awake. "As I was telling Alya: In order, Miraculous holder are effected by... its not a curse per say... If a wielder dies, they are meant to be unraisable. They are supposed to have magical protections in place to stop errant casters from creating undead with their enhanced bodies. This also means that the soul of a wielder is meant to pass on instantly, making it very hard to contact and or raise."  This was new information to her, though Nino just nodded his head. "When I bring people back, its always with the miraculous cure."   Marinette was getting sleepy again. "Which uses both the magic from the akuma, and my lucky charm power."  Tikki had told her about this time and time again, though it still made little sense to her. "The negative energy from the akuma, and the positive energy from my lucky charm feed off of each other until there is enough power to undo the damage that has been done. Its similar to what happens when someone makes a wish with the ladybug and cat miraculous. The reason I can heal people and bring back the dead caused by an akuma attack is because of all the negative magic in the air from the akuma. Even if-"   Oh god, Tikki was on another lecture. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment. "Marinette, stay with me."   Nope. "Finally what happened with the zombies was the reanimation of the bodies, no soul involved. The ample amount of necrotic energy that filled the area more than made up for the energy I need from an akuma. Which is what made healing them easy and quick. Damage to the body is nothing compared to even a metaphorical scratch on the soul."

        Marinette, after a few minutes of processing, realized to her shock that she had never stopped to think about how it worked back then. How had she never though to question it before? This past month she had realized there were a lot of things that she never questioned before. Like how she never noticed all the similarities between Chat and Adrien.

         "Look"   Said Nino. "That was a great speech and all, but I'm pretty sure Alya is asleep standing up, and I'm not sure if I understood half of what you just said. We need to get some rest before we continue to investigate. Marinette, you said something about checking where he should be buried. You and I can go and take a look after we all get some damn sleep. Alya... ALYA!" Alya jumped like someone had shocked her with a cattle prod. "What?! I'm awake!"  Though she said that her eyes were crossed and her head was drooping already. "Me and Marinette are going to check out the grave yard. While we do that, you need to find Queen Bee and have her help you search around for Chat or Adrien."   He saw the delirium mounting inside her and still continued. "I know that she is not your favorite person at the moment, or ever, but we need to work together. If this is one of Hawkmoths plots we need to know. If Chat is back... There is a chance that Adrien is too. Unless this is another Copy Cat situation. Understood everyone?"  Before anyone could raise a question, he walked over to the couch and said: "Now let's get some sleep."   Then he promptly fell to the couch and passed into sleep.

                                                 (Nino)

It was gone. Not upturned. Not disturbed. Just Gone! No headstone, no hole. NOTHING! How was this even possible? They had been there when he was put into the ground! The entire class had shown up to his funeral! They had all talked about afterwards as part of Miss Bustiers therapy session afterwards. There was no way He had imagined it. He and Marinette had gone to both the funeral home where the actual funeral service was held, and the graveyard next too it. They had checked the coroner's logs, the funeral records, even the financial reports. None of them showed that anything had happened in the last month. Even the Employees here seemed down right oblivious! None of them even noticed he and Marinette were even there until they actually grabbed on of them and shook him to get his attention. What the hell was going on. Nino turned his head to ask Marinette if she had any ideas. Oh crap, she looked worse than he felt. She was just standing there, staring at a part of the graveyard. Was she shaking? He was so stupid to bring her here, he should get her out of here, but... he still had to find some shred of evidence for anything! 

He went over to her, hoping that a break from questioning the apathetic staff would let his brain rest. It felt like someone was squeezing his head. "Are you alright Marinette?"  

What the hell was he asking? Of course she isn't alright. This is an insane situation. 

"It should be right here."   She was staring at the large space between headstones. The same space they had all been gathered around for Adrien's funeral. Marinette was right, it was the spot where his grave should be. It's not, but it should be. She had been staring for at least as long as Nino had been talking to the employees of the funeral home. He looked down at his watch. Which showed 7 P.M. on its face. How long had they been here?

"I know Marinette... Hey are you with me here?" Now that he was paying closer attention to her, he could see her eyes were glazed over. "Earth to Marinette, maybe... we should leave."   What was he saying? No. Leaving was an over reaction. Surely. He still had things to do here. He still had to figure out what was going on here. Wait, what was it he had to figure out? His head felt like someone had turned on a blender inside his skull!

" MASTER! Can you hear me?"   When did Wayzz leave his backpack? Wait. "Wayzz dude! what are you do-"   And again. For the 5th time in, what? 12 hours? Nino was interrupted. Wayzz cut in saying: "Now is no the time to worry about our secrets. As no one here will notice. Master can not you feel it? The magic at work here. Something is wrong. Very Wrong. I have been working to shield your mind."   His mind? Oh is that why his head hurt like crazy? "Wayzz what's going on?  Wait. Oh my god. We've been here for 5 hours. Wayzz we need to go. Now."

Wayzz floated in front of him for a moment. "Master, we must be careful. The same force that tried to trap you here will try and keep you from leaving. You need to see what I do."  Then the kwami started to shake his hands above Nino. A shining dust fell from them, right into his eyes. "Ack. Wayzz dude! What are talking abo..."   This time he could blame no one but himself for not being able to finish. The sight before him was stunning. In the air drifted streams of colors. Like someone had dropped a color palette into water. A sinister purple wove its way around and through the heads of people who work here. The same purple that was circling and probing at Marinette. 

"There... now... you can... see the magic... I have to rest now. Hurry, and escape."   Wayzz phased into Ninos back pack. 

Nino snapped out of his daze. "MARINETTE!"  At this she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Wha. What? Nino. What's going on with your eyes?"   She looked at him like a horn had sprouted on his face. Which for all he knew, one had.

"No time to explain. We have to leave."

"Leave? Don't we still have to... wait... What are we..."

He could see the way the magic rippled around her head. How the purple writhed and tried to dig into her head. He grabbed at her wrist, and started to run toward the gate. When he reached for Marinette, he saw how his had was rimmed in the same green of 'Shell-ter'. He also saw how it was spreading slowly to Marinette. Whatever Wayzz had done, it was more than just enhanced sight. HE was going to get him an entire shipping container of cookies later to make up for the energy Wayzz had to be spending.

Even as Nino was running with a sobering Marinette in tow, he could see a shade of magic similar to, but different from, the same purple magic that had tried to snare both himself and Marinette. This new purple was pooling in places around the path leading out of the grave yard. The pools also seemed to be moving toward them. Nino looked around, still clutching Marinettes forearm. "Nino? Whats going on? Why are we running?"   Oh good, shes coherent now. "No time to explain, we have to get out of here now."   He let go of her arm, and pointed to a path that would lead to the fence surrounding the graveyard. "Over there, we can't take the gate. To much bad magic. Trust me on this one."  

Marinette seemed perplexed for a moment. Nino really hoped that she was not falling under the effects of what ever was going on again. The green magic that covered him also coated Marinette in a thin shell. The purple energies didn't seem to like the protection she now had, as it was dissipating. Then she said: "Ok, but I am going to want one hell of an explanation as to why my head feels like someone tried to make scrambled eggs inside my brain."   With that, they started running for the fence. One of the masses of purple magic shot itself toward Marinette. Nino reacted on impulse, shifting his stance to block the incoming blob with his shield. Which he only had... when transformed. The magic hit his arm, and it went slack and numb. Also. It hurt like hell! 

"GA! Shit! Run faster! We must run Faster! "   He said while holding his arm. The got to the fence and started climbing. In a matter of second Marinette was over the top, and giving a hand to Nino. Right as he was about to round the top and scramble down, he felt a jolt of pain in his leg, and it went numb from the shin down. 

They were over and out. Both of them laying on the ground winded from their mad dash through, what as far an Nino could tell was damn mine field of malicious magic. 

Then, Marinettes phone started ringing. Or did they just now notice that it was ringing? Nino couldn't especially care. Running at such speeds... Why the hell was that so exhausting?

"Come on. We have to get to Alya and Chloe. Something went wrong... Its Harbinger, their back."

(Alya)

(During the hours that Nino and Marinette spent at the graveyard)

It wasn't fair. Not fair in the least. Why should she have to be the one paired with Chloe of all people? She knew the answer, and it was more than necessary. Nino had explained it again after they had all woken up to the alarm he set. If Marinette and Chloe where left alone they would either both breakdown and cry, or start fighting each other in their grief. Nino didn't want Marinette to be the one searching for Adrien. Er- Chat? And He himself had to go and look over the documents from the Morgue or wherever they went. He was better with paperwork she'll give him that. All of this meant that she had to be the one to team up with Chloe, and go cat hunting. Maybe she was being a bit harsh on Chloe. 

Chloe had not, in fact, taken well to the news that Chat was back and was probably killing people and running around attacking his old team. The poor girl still looked like she was one scare away from having a complete mental break down...

Not that Alya would admit to it, but she actually felt bad for her. If anyone loved Adrien more than Marinette, it was Chloe. If anyone was processing all this worse then Marinette, it was Chloe.

They had spent hours combing the streets, but it looked like their quarry would only come out at night. She guessed she had some time to kill until true night hit. though it was only a couple minutes away from 7. Now that Alya was paying less attention to the surrounding city, and more attention to her partner for the night, she was noticing the way her suit was filled out more than usual. especially in her waist of all places.

Before Alya could stop her self, she blurted out "Have you gained weight?"   Her hands were around her mouth in an instant! "I'm so sorry, I have no idea why I said that!"  She was blushing hard enough to contend with the red of LB's suit. Her eyes were closed shut, and she was braced for a slap, or at least a very indignant rant.

Chloe just let out a sigh. Then she said evenly: "I suppose that's the effect of stuffing my face with desserts. It's about all I've done for the last few weeks. What have you been up to?"

Alya was taken aback, she remembered how she found Chloe. Nearly trapped inside an ever increasing fort of pillows and sheets. Just sitting there with empty ice cream boxes around her, Pollen in a food coma on the couch. She had been crying, just laying there. It was several moments before Alya had realized she was asleep, and weeping on the floor. Bringing her up to speed had been painful. It was a full hour before Chloe had composed herself enough to transform, which seemed to settle her more than anything Alya did. Now Chloe was admitting to pigging out on junk food and ice cream? She had seen the evidence before her, and even tried to bring it up before they went out, And now Chloe was talking about it and making an attempt at chit chat?! This, more than anything else in this crazy situation, surprised her.

"H-Hey"  She started in an uncertain tone before continuing more steadily. "We all cope in our own ways."   She glanced around, using their search for Chat as an excuse not to make eye contact. "I.. I worked as much as I could this past month... Nino has been trying to make a new tape for his DJ gigs... neither of us has actually accomplished much..."

After a moment. "Still better than me. Hey... How is Mar-"   A crash and scream  broke through the afternoon air. Alya and Chloe shot up into a standing position and started looking around for the source of the sounds. Alya's hearing was almost better than Chats, and her ability for pick out people from a distance was second to none. She spun around trying to find who she assumed would be Chat.

Someone jumped onto the roof, and started toward the pair.

Long dark robes fluttered in the now fetid wind, thick stained rope was tied around their waist. Black cloth hood hiding a skeletal face, which spewed fog and mist from every opening. White glows served as eyes. Eyes that lock onto the 2 heroes like a hawk finding field mice. A curved scythe made of a sickly looking wood and rusted iron fitting sat in their right bone hand. They were holding a human heart in their left hand! IT BEAT!

"Where is he?" The hollow voice, like foul wind blowing though dead tree branches, demanded.

"Run!" Alya Screamed. Her brain was locking up, both from the fear that the akuma commanded and from the terror that was all Alya. She glanced over at Queen Bee, who looked as horrified as she felt. It was them, the only akuma made in over a month, the only akuma to truly hurt them in any way that lasted. 

It was Harbinger. The only akuma to kill a Miraculous team member, and make it last.

Queen Bee collapsed next to Alya. All she could do was pick up her friend and start running. It was about 3 city blocks before she realized that Harbinger was chasing after them, demanding "WHERE IS THE DEAD CAT?"  How could its whisper of a voice yell so loudly? "Queen! Call Ladybug and Carapace."  No response but muted sobbing. "QUEEN!"  It was useless. Queen Bee had curled up into Alya's arms, and was crying the same thing over and over again. "Oh god, its our turn. He's going to kill us. No no no no no no."  Iterations of this were the only things passing from Chloe's lips. Shit, they had to get away from Harbinger. Enough distance to call the others and maybe break Chloe out of her stupor. If a distraction was needed, Rena was fox for the job.

"Mirage"  Yelled Rena Rogue, as her flute awkwardly danced in her hands. Exact doubles of Rena Rogue and Queen Bee appeared and started running near the originals. Both sets passed behind a billboard, breaking line of sight. Then they sprinted in opposite directions from each other. 

Harbinger stopped for a moment, and had to choose a target, He held up the hand with a heart and started swaying it from left to right. "Guide me." Guide me so that i may slay your friends."  It pulsed and Harbinger raced after the pair that went left. They went across the roof of an apartment building, he floated above it. They went behind a wall, he went through it. For 30 minutes the chase went on. Until, they stopped and Harbinger reached out with his scythe, and cut the pair in ribbons. Which then became motes of light as they dissipated, laughter filling the air. "NO! You lied!"   It squeezed the heart so hard a normal one would have been crushed. This one simply beat faster and harder. 

While Harbinger had been hunting the illusion down, Rena Rogue had run out of time. Trixx had spent all of his energy to maintain the magic until Harbinger had destroyed it.

Alya put a still transformed Chloe down on the ground, who then started groping around for her legs and held on for dear life. "

Glad to see you have your priorities straight."

Where did she put her- Ah there it was. She turned her phone back on and called Marinette. She hopped that the girl was still in her civilian clothes. If Marinette was LB at the moment, she doubted her call would connect. 

"Ah, Alya. Are you there?"

"Thank god you picked up Mari. Get over here quick by my place. It Harbinger it's back! and-"  She was cut off mid sentence by the third scream of the night.

This one was throaty, and ragged. It also sounded familiar, Bone chillingly familiar. She brought her head up from behind the ledge of her roof. Where she saw Chat Noir tearing Harbinger apart.

         Post Script: Earlier when Rena and Queen had to run around the city. Just before the scene above takes place:

"I can't believe you took so long to catch up to me."

"YOU POINTED IN A DIRECTION AND RAN OFF! Be glad I remembered I could find you on my top."

"It wasn't even him, now we have to... did you just say you found me with your top..."

"Well yea, our weapons can show us... the other... members of... our team." 

"Are we dumb-asses?"

"Yes we are. Lets agree to say we though of this earlier on when we report shall we?."

"We shall!"

[yackowarner]

while I’m posting old writing snippets... here’s something FOP related that’s also old but good. It’s coswan

Preface

He seriously needed a coffee right now. Preferably one in his favorite mug, the pink one with the big red heart on it.  Coffee just tasted better in that cup.  And for this daily task, he needed the caffeinated drink. The bitterness of a black coffee got him through this.  Usually he’d have something sweetened up, with mocha or cream or any other thing you could put into coffee, but black was all that helped here.   Because this daily task—one he’d made a requirement for himself—had to do with teenagers.

Watching over teenagers, to be exact. Observe them.  Make sure he knew exactly what to do with them when February fourteenth rolled around—he was Cupid, of course.  The God of Love had to be aware of who he was shooting in the butt.  But teenage love (though quite cute, he had to admit) was so unreal it almost made him sick.  Teen love was all hormones and hungry children wanting to move too fast, to climb on top of each other all at once.  True love in a teenager was rare, with both fairies and humans.

Today he was checking the fairies. He did it one high school at a time.  Perhaps he missed a few people in the process, but he’d get to them eventually. There’d be an arrow in their rear at some point.  Whether that arrow lasted a lifetime or not… well. It really depended on the person. Some people never had an arrow with their names on it.

He focused his attention on Carl Poofy Pants Fairy High School, on this particular day.  He had the list of names with him, and (thank goodness) a cup of steaming black coffee on the table next to him.  He could see the front doors of the high school in his mind’s eye, and the students milled about just like in any other school.  Nothing out of the ordinary. Normal high school activities. There was a girl being followed by a harem of men—obviously the prettiest in school. One look down his list told him her name was Blonda, and her arrow was most definitely sitting in his archive.  He just knew it was there. Cupid’s intuition was rather refined.

He focused again on the setting of the school inside his head, sweeping over a poor fairy child being turned upside-down by the captain of the football team… he mentally checked off all their arrows… and a few girls quietly gathered around their lockers laughing together.  All their arrows were there as well—

Hold on. No. Wait. Back to the tiny fairy being bullied, he was now right side up, begging the football player’s forgiveness, for whatever he had done.  Cupid tried… he truly did… but this green haired boy had no arrow. His name would be on his list, but… and in the group of girls, by the lockers. No arrow on one of them, the pink haired girl, too. Rare, so very rare, to have two arrowless people in one place.  He supposed it to be possible.  But he felt bad for the two poor saps who’d never experience the joy of love, the rush one got when they were pierced by his expertly shot arrow. Rare… rare cases happened where someone fell in love without an arrow. And not fake love. Real, true love. But never had the other person returned the feelings without Cupid’s guidance.  It just meant that, one side of the couple had a more raw passion to it. Falling in love without a love arrow was so powerful. Cupid adored it when it happened. It powered his machines greatly.

He browsed curiously through all the other children.  They were fine. Arrows were there.  But… his interest had been sprung. He’d have to keep a close eye on those two, when he had moments of free time to spare.  In fact, he decided to dig through his file cabinets, pull out the two fairies files, not very full right now.  Oh how he didn’t know, how full they’d get. He’d need more than folders to keep the papers of these two organized. But at this moment, he just set the files down on his desk—with the other arrowless fairies and humans--to browse later on.  

He was sure they were unrelated.  Just two kids in the same school happened to have a similar situation.  They didn’t seem to even see each other when he’d been watching the school scene.  Neither knew of the other’s existence.  Still, he liked carefully tracking these types. Just in case they were ones to fall in love all on their own.  He needed that. And he needed it documented carefully.

Yes, he’d certainly be keeping a watchful eye and open ear over these teens. This… Cosmo and Wanda.

Chapter One

Today was the anniversary of her mother’s death. This day always had her thinking, thinking her life through, thinking about the choices she was making.  That is—it made her think even more than usual. And usual was, well… a lot.  She thought about her grades. They were perfect, spot on.  And to keep them that way, she had to think about them.  She thought about what she was going to wear. Not that she was very fashionable—she wanted to be presentable, though.  She thought about what she was going to have for lunch today. Wanda thought about her family.  How her father clearly loved her sister better.  He was proud of Wanda, sure.  She had the highest marks, and he bragged about it.  But her sister was stunningly gorgeous somehow, much more so than Wanda—even if they were twins.  Though Blonda had to start dying her hair when it began to lose its natural shiny blonde color, she was still the most beautiful.  She was the head of the acting club at school. She had a posse of men carrying her things and giving her compliments.  Wanda didn’t hate her sister. She simply couldn’t. She was family. But she loathed her inflated ego and tendency to rub things in the pink haired fairy’s face.

She was overthinking her sister, again. What else was there to think about? Oh yes, meeting the girls after school today, at the diner. And… her boyfriend. There was always him to think about. Not that she really enjoyed thinking about Juandissimo. Wanda was very back and forth on breaking it off with him—on one hand, she made all the other girls jealous by dating the most hunky guy in school.  On the other hand, those girls were out for blood, and Juandissimo ate it up. He wasn’t very caring to Wanda’s needs, either.  He never waited for her, dropped her off, picked her up, things you’d expect to be a common courtesy for a boyfriend to do.  

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to end it, however. She didn’t want to be the girl who dumped ‘the best thing that ever happened to her.’  She didn’t want to hurt Juandissimo’s feelings. He was not cruel to her—simply shallow and a bit untrustworthy.  She would need a real reason to break up with the guy. Not just lingering discomfort.

Lost in these thoughts as she picked up her wand and floated lazily out of the house, calling goodbye to her father.  Wanda hated having to open the big golden gate in front of her house.  She was too rich for her own good, thanks to Big Daddy’s trash business.  One would expect her to be stuck up. No, that was Blonda, not her.  She was the good twin.  The good twin who was dating the best boy in school. Right? Not that she was planning to marry the guy. No way. That was thinking much too far into the future, anyway.  She was a junior in high school, she had plenty of time to think about it.  Wanda almost slapped herself out of her daze. She was such a thinker.  School was what she should be focusing on. Getting to school. Turning the corner into an alley, she spotted Juandissimo talking to another girl, and caught a whiff of the conversation. Something about… about… she quickly zipped back around the corner and hid, heart pounding. He’d been talking about her. He’d said something… something about how he enjoyed Wanda being beside him. Something about how it made him look good. She could barely process this information thrown in her face so suddenly. He couldn’t have meant it. He was trying to get the girl off his back.  Her boyfriend wasn’t using her.

So after a few long deep breaths and a mini panic attack, she turned the corner again and called out his name, to which he smiled at her and took her arm in his and they went to school together, then separated as she went to her locker, as always. And her three best friends gathered around her. Well, one of them was her true best friend. That was Marigold. A dark-skinned fairy with eyes the color of the flower she was named for, Mari had tiny spiraling curls that she held back with a headband.  Her voice was a southern drawl, with didn’t make much sense, since fairies didn’t have a south, but that’s how she talked, and Wanda hardly noticed it.  The other two were best friends with each other, the light blue one Ella, and the teal one Nyx. However, the four were a little group. Wanda was comfortable with them. Ella and Nyx were always, always, asking her about Juandissimo. Just as they were now.

“Did he hold your hand?”

“Did he say anything romantic? Oh my stars, his accent probably makes everything sound romantic…”

Wanda shooed them away, giggling. Marigold didn’t look all that pleased—as she usually did when they were discussing the muscled fairy.

“I still say you dump the guy like a tonna bricks, Wanda dear.” She leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, and a pout on her lips. “I don’t like that there attitude ‘a his.”

“Relax, Mari.” Wanda replied, being casual about her inner conflict, acting as if there was none. “I can date who I want. And if I wanna dump him, I’ll do it. But for now… I’d like to keep the popular guy, y’know? Looks good on my rep.”

“Your rep? Wanda, datin’ a boy’s not gonna be on your college apps.”

“I know, I know. I just… Blonda. Y’know how she is, all perfect. I’ve got something over her on this. Blonda’s single.”

“And ready t’ mingle, yea. Girl needs to take it down a notch.” Mari shook her head disapprovingly. She was going to be a tough mother one day, if they allowed babies to be born again. Wanda didn’t know who, but some fairy baby had caused some disaster and they outlawed it. Shame, too.  Although, this meant that adult fairies went pretty much insane with sexual activity, due to lack of repercussions and responsibility.

Not that Wanda was ready for sex. No way. She was in high school. No matter how many times Juandissimo asked her if she would ever want to—she told him she was waiting for marriage. That was her rule.

Wanda shook out of her thoughts and told Mari not to worry and headed off to her advanced magic class. She knew no one in the class, so it was her thinking time, she barely noticed spells flying back and forth, and always just casually put out her hair whenever it was set alight by that three-headed hydra some kid just loved to make. It always stooped one of its heads down to Wanda, the name tag around its neck, reading ‘Snowball,’ jingling as it waved back and forth.

"Hiya Snowball," Wanda mused quietly, patting the head of the creature. She wondered why he had a soft spot for her. One time during cheerleading practice he had suddenly appeared—his creator probably in gym class nearby—and stomped over to her, scaring the rest of the squad until Wanda shooed him away.  She wasn’t afraid. The pink haired fairy was used to the crazy antics of the talented creative advanced magic class. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t feel she belonged there.

Wanda couldn’t do magic with her hands very well. With her wand, she was unstoppable.  Hand magic took too much out of her.  The teacher said it was probably because she was too rigid—too much of a stickler to the rules.  Most other kids in the class flew up out of the open sunroof into the air, and had magic fights.  Wanda preferred staying grounded and tried to use hand magic to write out lists of things to do.  It always came out sloppy and she opted instead to rewriting it by hand.

Occasionally a little purple freshman fairy named Violet would fly over to her desk and watch her, talking quietly that she’d almost got it. Wanda liked the gesture, but she’d seen the stuff the girl’d done. Violet shook her head saying she wasn’t the one who made Snowball—she didn’t know his name, she said. Violet was the one who made the tall sunflowers by the baseball field. They were stories high. And she’d done it with her hands, not a wand. She continued to take careful care of them with her hands.

Wanda felt like a failure in this class, so she was glad to leave it each day.

Because the rest of her classes were a breeze. Hard work, but easy for her. Then the day was over. The end of the day meant a nice little quiet moment with Juandissimo. She felt it was the best part of their relationship. He’d meet her alone by her locker and kiss her on both cheeks, then on her hand, and they’d talk about their days. Juandissimo’s was always a more superficial story, less stressful than Wanda’s, but she liked hearing it. Gave her a different outlook, she supposed.

Then he’d be off to some party that she wasn’t invited to—because she wasn’t popular enough. He promised he’d get her into one of these shindigs one day. She wasn’t sure about wanting to go.  Somehow she felt it might be the last straw that would end their relationship.

Wanda sighed, but tried to perk herself up enough before shutting her locker and taking her wand from her purse to zap outside the school—doors are for chumps, y’know.  At least there was the diner with Mari, Ella and Nyx.  They did it every week, this outing.  Ella and Nyx lived for it, they were always giggling and pointing behind the counter—something funny that they refused to tell Wanda. Though Mari seemed to know what it was, she wouldn’t say a word either. Wanda hated to be kept in the dark.

Today, however, they weren’t pointing.  Wanda glanced at the counter to make sure nothing was different.  Didn’t seem so. Until Ella spoke up, clearly miffed.

"Like, where is he? I need my weekly source of adorable comedy! He’s here every Wednesday."

"…Who?" Wanda gave her blue friend a raised brow. "Is this ‘he’ the thing you’re always laughing at that you won’t tell me about?"

"There’s a fairy over the counter always giving you the eye, Wanda! He’s embarrassing himself and it’s kinda funny. Almost cute in a way. How have you not noticed!?" Nyx blurted out quickly, not taking a single breath in between sentences. It was clear the secret had been killing her, her face was red.

Mari rolled her eyes from her position next to Wanda. “He’s got a crush, quit makin’ fun a him.  He’s prob better than that there Juan-dee-see-mo. Or however you say it.”

Wanda gave her best friend a glare, but her anger wore off quickly when she heard a squeak from Nyx across the way, who was pointing frantically behind Wanda with Ella covering her mouth to prevent the teal fairy from screaming.  Wanda turned, and who she guessed was the boy in question had a tray in his hands, looking like a server.

Oh yes, she recognized him. He worked here a lot. Not that she knew his name, or anything, but… wasn’t he usually washing dishes behind the counter, not serving the food?

Her question was soon answered when the boy didn’t notice a wet floor sign—honestly why was he walking when he could’ve been floating—and tripped, landing all of the food on the tray right on Wanda’s dress and face. She didn’t make a sound, just closed her eyes in surprise.

Now, Wanda could’ve gone off. She was ready to make her head explode, to be honest. But when her eyes drifted open and the little green fairy was giving her the most apologetic and embarrassed look she’d ever seen on anyone’s face in her entire life… well. She couldn’t help but smile.

"I-I-I’m sorry!" He said quietly, picking a french fry out of his hair. "I can… I can fix…"

"It’s alright," Wanda assured him, like he was a lost puppy-dog. "It’s really okay." She was getting ready to stand up…

"No! I can…fix it." The green fairy’s hand was aglow, soft yellow light emitting from his fingertips, and the next thing Wanda knew, she was sparkling clean, no trace of the food left.

"How did…?" She muttered, looking at her clean clothes in wonderment. He was amazingly talented at magic!

"I’m so so so so so so sorry they’re making me do waiter duty for the first time and I’m not very coordinated! I’m sorry really really really sor—"

"It’s fine, really…" She scanned his shirt for his name tag. "…Cosmo." The name rolled nicely off her tongue. A cute name, made her smile again. Why was she smiling again? Wanda was supposed to be moody and in mourning today. Not grinning like an idiot.

"I guess this is my punishment for Snowball burning off the manager’s hair—I totally embarrass myself in front of a pretty girl—"

“Snowball?” Wanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Like big hydra Snowball? With three heads?” Pretty girl?

 “Yea, he’s my pet…how’d you know him? And my name too, how’d…?” he cut off when she pointed to his name tag, and he glanced down and looked embarrassed again, his whole face and ears turning bright red.