#my idea is that the lighthouse was old and abandoned when they were kids and they made it into a makeshift hideout

[alienlowlife]

another hc drawing but this time they're teens.

[x0401x]

Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

[magebastard]

think of everything you’ve got

characters: detective lane wheatley, rebecca wheatley

rating: T

word count: 1.9k

warnings: allusions and references to panic attacks, and description of a panic attack, negative mother daughter relationship

notes: this isn’t what i wanted to write! but the more i rewrote it the more i wanted to write about a confrontation! am I projecting? do I need catharsis? we’ll never know! this is lightly edited so I’ll probably reread and continuously edit it because I’m a nightmare alive

She should have known.

Lane decides on a day of romance. After a kind, if uneasy, conversation over the phone with Adam-

“I don’t want you to think I’m not taking my position seriously. I am, you know? Always.”

“That’s not in doubt, Detective. There are no pressing matters to attend to. We’re seeing a lull in cases that need our full attention urgently.”

“Though you and I both know I should be training, or in the lab, or the library or-“

“And I won’t argue that. My job is to care for the needs of the team, even if I’d recommend otherwise. Take the Saturday, Detective.”

A tense pause.

“Thank you, Commanding Agent.”

Lane would swear she’d heard a huff of laughter.

“Notify us if something comes up.”

Lane decides to treat herself to a day of being loved and cared for. A day to woo the good detective.

It starts with a long walk to the lighthouse, then a trip to see Haley for a cup of coffee, a bath with a second mug of coffee, a movie marathon that will play in the background as she restores a busted casiotone found unloved and abandoned on the side of the road with an additional two cups of coffee.

She’s halfway through coffee number three when she hears the knock.

Lane isn’t paranoid by nature. In fact, some would say she’s overly trusting. The way she cannot help but squash her face against the peephole with abject discomfort at the sound of a rapping at her door is new, and stands out in the way that it feels unnatural. She’d never had a reason to fear before.

In this moment, the new habit is one that she’s grateful for. Standing so tall with her shoulders squared so straight, stoicism and edge in equal, unsettling measure right outside of her apartment door is Rebecca. Fuck, actually.

Lane is wearing a ripped t-shirt from a pizza place in the city and paint stained utility overalls. She is winded from brushing the dust from individual keyboard keys. She is hyperaware of how sweaty she probably is, and that her apartment may look like a mess because it absolutely is one.

A showdown with Agent Wheatley was not on her agenda.

To not answer the door would be the obvious maneuver. Crouch down, not unlike a gargoyle and wait out the danger until it’s safe to move again.

The wonder of why Rebecca is here in the first place is a jarring thing.

It hasn’t been the most comfortable situation; constantly rebuffing her attempts at motherly affection. In all honesty, it’s been harrowing in just how awkward it’s made Lane feel.

She doesn’t know what was expected of her. Rebecca has made it painfully obvious over the years. All twenty seven of them. No calls, rare visits, stunted conversation, general lack of interest. Lane can read a room.

Rebecca is not her mom. She wasn’t when Lane needed her to be, she’s certainly not going to reap any of the benefits of Lane’s company now. That ship sailed.

Yet here she is, again, waiting dockside.

If there’s an emergency, surely she would have called. Surely someone else would have been instructed to call. It’s got to be something benign. Something uncomfortable. Lane could ignore this. She could ignore this and get away with it. She could and should ignore this.

Weighted moments pass. There’s a decision made and a plan already enacted to wait this out.

Lane unlocks and opens the door.

There’s a disconnect between the woman, posturing and severe in the peephole and the slight woman wearing mom jeans and the lines of a worried frown etched so deeply in her face who stands nearly hunched before her. Chalk it up to perspective. There’s a realization that no one has said a word and seconds are passing between them.

“May I come in?”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“I am wearing jeans.”

“I didn’t know you owned jeans.”

Barely the quirk of a brow. “Some of the more delicate aspects of my private life should remain as such.”

It’s horrid and hilarious that Lane almost remembers her this way. Dry wit. Photographs of a woman who looks like her, wearing jeans. A man she cannot recognize in the countless stories she’s heard from neighbors and friends. These images and ideas of people who were her family. Ghosts.

Lane steps aside, allowing Rebecca to pass.

It doesn’t escape her, the way she assesses the space. It’s not the first time she’s been around, but the mess is new. A shuffle of furniture. Decisions to change everything made in the clawing heat of panic.

“Is something wrong?” The effort to keep impatience out of her words seems too pointed to be professional.

“I thought I’d say hello while I was close by.”

“Interesting.” There’s ease in familiarity. The breaths they take are short and punched, the taciturn ebb and flow of their understanding each other. There’s nothing polite about it and it hangs over them like a storm ready to crack open. Somehow it’s easier.

Lane wishes Rebecca had worn a suit. There is something clinical and apart about her when she wears a suit. A silhouette and an authority. Now, she’s a mother wearing jeans, with shaking hands. It’s real, that she’s here—that she’s around. It’s not supposed to be real. A drop-in from Mom isn’t supposed to level her this way. Was finding out that vampires existed this much of a revelation? She cannot remember now.

“Well, hello to you, too. As you can see I’ve got a lot going on.” Lane gestures, vaguely. “I should get back to it, so-“

“Do you need help?”

“Absolutely not,” she says it before realizing it might be cruel. Rebecca winces in a way that suggests that the suits may be the secret to her armor, after all. It’s a separate jarring thing that Lane is nearly desperate to get her out of the apartment after barely minutes.

“Look, it’s just-“ she breaks off with a heavy sigh bringing her hands to the back of her neck, gripping. “It’s my day off. I don’t want to think about work-“

“We don’t need to talk about work-“

“No.” It’s a hard line. It’s heavy in her mouth. Lane does not hold grudges. They’re exhausting and you’d give yourself less ache clinging to a barbed wire with both hands.

“I’m tired,” Lane says because it’s true in so many ways.

“Me too,” Rebecca replies and, yes, she can believe that.

This is exhausting.

“You came to say hello and then, what?” She drops her hands. “What did you want?” What do you want from me goes unsaid, again and again.

Shifting from foot to foot in the most unprecedented display of visceral uncertainty, Rebecca looks unfathomably human.

“I just want to be your Mom,” she says quietly, pleadingly, and it’s frightening—the way that Lane’s vision goes near completely white for a moment. It’s a blistering anger and her blood rushes like a rapid tide. It’s a thin sheet of ice cracking over a rolling current. She thinks she kicks a wall. She doesn’t remember.

“You can’t be!” And Lane doesn’t mean to shout. She hates feeling this way. There’s a helplessness that accompanies rage—surrendering to it doesn’t feel like a choice. Only a realization, after the fact. It’ll be disappointing to Lane, later, that her years of carefully cultivated numbness were completely dismantled by a quick check-in from Rebecca.

“Why not?” Is shouted back, like guiding breath to a lone ember. Lane begins to pace, taking short strides.

“You don’t get to choose between the child and the twenty-seven year old, you know? You didn’t choose me, then. The time, and time again of then, you didn’t call, you let me think that I—a child—meant nothing. I had to work on healing from that. I think I did an alright job.” She’s rambling. Rebecca looks about two feet tall. It hurts. It feels like she’s going to be sick but she cannot stop.

“I ended up just like you. Sometimes I think I recognize you because of that. Sometimes, I missed you so much, I couldn’t breathe.” She blinks against the burn in her eyes. Rebecca has stepped toward the door. She looks afraid. Wounded. Ready to bolt.

“I still feel like the kid standing in the middle of the street, screaming for my Mom—I still have to feel that way!” Stop shouting. Someone’s going to come check on you. You’ll have nothing to say, no way to explain yourself. Lane swallows around the pit in her throat.

“But I don’t-” she tries. “I don’t miss you. I don’t know you. I let myself be happy. You—who chose—you have to live with that.”

The paleness and thinness of Rebecca’s skin is suddenly alarming. Lane feels like a monster. Guilt coils around her in thick tendrils. Holding her.

“You have to understand-“

“You have to understand!” A heaving breath. “I didn’t choose. I never got that chance. I’m choosing now. You don’t want me. You don’t care about me. You want a second chance,” Lane throws her arms out. “I’m just a person.” Rebecca looks briefly like she wants to argue, but she sees it. Lane sees, with a painful, unmistakable clarity what she’d been equal parts terrified of and anticipating; uncertainty. Debate. Conflict. It’s reassuring and gutting all at once. The risk of being right has never had such high stakes.

“There’s no second chance. I’m an adult, with my own life. Seized and uprooted by vampires, literally, but a life that’s mine. That I found,” she lays a hand, gently over her chest. Her heart slams against her sweating palm. “I made this. It’s my choice, now.”

Her mother swallows hard. The visage of Agent Wheatley festers in terrible silence. It’s a croak when she speaks again. “Can I be here—in your life, at all?” It’s a plea. She’s begging. “Somehow?”

An open door is a delicate thing. Vulnerable, breachable, terrifying. Lane clenches her hands tightly into fists. She can be brave. Whatever she chooses, she can be brave.

“I need time. More of it.”

Rebecca squeezes her eyes shut. It’s wrenching. She looks so unbelievably small. This is the most like her Lane has ever felt.

“Okay.” Rebecca’s voice is quiet. It feels like a step has been taken somewhere in some direction. Just vague enough to be uncomfortable.

She goes after that, brittle, giving short nods as if she’s speaking a usual polished ‘goodbye’. The effect is lost in the sickly expression on her face.

Lane feels like she could be carried off by the wind. Her heart feels less like it’s beating than it’s throbbing in her chest, ready to burst. Water. She needs water.

Moving to the cupboards and the sink, her phone is a rattle in her shaking hands. She dials.

“Not that we don’t miss you terribly, but some of us are working, Detective.” Tina’s voice is bright, and warm and Lane realizes with new levity that her feet are still planted on the ground.

“I think I’m going to come in. You can head out for patrol once I’m there, alright?” There’s an understandable pause. A hint of palpable disappointment.

“You’re supposed to be taking a day for yourself, Lane.”

“I know. I was. I need to work.” She hopes beyond hope that Tina does not press for an explanation.

“Sure.” Hesitant, but final. Asked and answered.

“Thanks, T.” For so much more than I can say.

“Always. Haley’s date soon?”

Lane takes a gulp of water, lets the residual anger sit like a stone in her stomach.

“Pick a day. I’ll be there.”

The call ends with pleasantries exchanged. A new knot between her shoulders, and a faint queasiness accompany Lane as she gets ready for work.

[funky-boat-zone]

can this be a “pilot episode” if it’s a fic—

(the first fic for my salty’s lighthouse au is finally done! enjoy (or don’t). also it’s not going on ao3 because there’s no tag for this show and i don’t wanna clog the tugs tag.)

It was 6:30 in the morning, with the sun just starting to cast its light over Snugboat Harbor. All twelve tugs (plus Grampus) waited in front of Captain Star’s window for their orders. No one knew what they were waiting for besides the fact that Star had specifically asked the Zero Fleet to wait at her window instead of his.

Ten Cents yawned. “Why’d Captain bring the Zeroes here instead of just waiting for Zero to come to work?”

“What, do you have a problem with us staying at your dock?” Zorran snapped, Zug glancing apologetically at Ten Cents on his behalf.

Ten Cents sputtered in irritation. “No, of course not! Sheesh, are you sure you’re not the one with a prob—“

“Have some respect! If she called all of us over, it must be something serious!” Top Hat protested.

“D’ya think somebody sunk?” ZB tactlessly wondered aloud to Zak, earning him a few horrified looks from his fellow tugs.

“Well if the Coast Guard’s not here, it probably wasn’t someone that important.” Zak replied, only to spot Zorran glaring at him. “… What?”

“Shh, here she comes!” Hercules ordered, which promptly stopped the boats’ chatter.. for the time being, anyway.

Sure enough, a blue and white-striped megaphone popped out of the window. “Star Fleet, Zeroes, Boomer’s owner wants to know if Snugboat Harbor has the right kind of jobs for him and he’s coming to assist you all with work today! Whether or not he decides to stay, I expect you all to be on your best behavior!” With that, she returned to her office, closing the window on the way and leaving the tugs to talk amongst themselves until Boomer inevitably arrived.

Ten Cents groaned. “Oh no, what’d we do?”

“What do ya mean?” Zip asked.

“He’s jinxed! Cursed! No reasonable captain would make their tugs work with Boomer unless it was some kind of punishment!” Big Stack cried.

Ten Cents’ sighed. “I remember when he wanted to ‘help us out’ with a liner.”

“How’d that go?” Sunshine asked, although she quickly realized her mistake when she saw how Ten Cents’ face fell. “… Too soon?”

“Lighten up everyone, it’s not like he means to bring bad luck.” Warrior chided.

“And it’s not like Sunshine means to run bow-first into other tugs because she can’t take two seconds to look where she’s going, what’s your point?” Zorran argued, ignoring Sunshine’s cry of “Hey!” from across the jetty.

“Can’t we at least try to be nice to him?” Sunshine suggested. “Who knows? Maybe his luck will turn if we stop acting like everything he does is bad luck, just saying.”

The dead silence from both fleets indicated that they weren’t feeling inclined to take her suggestion.

—

Roughly an hour later, ZB spotted a tug in an orange worker’s cap and matching livery entering the harbor. What stood out to him the most was the tape and bandages covering the vessel, no doubt covering the cracks, dents, and holes from his countless accidents. “Must be Boomer.” He thought aloud to himself, pulling his barges out of the way so he could pass by. From how far away the other tug was, there was almost no way Boomer would actually hit the barges, but better safe than sorry, right?

Almost as soon as the tug in the orange cap was out of sight, ZB heard Zero cry “Watch the dock, watch the dock— I said *watch the dock!*”, which was in turn followed by a loud thunk and Zero lamenting the damage to his newly-repaired dock.

“Yep, has to be Boomer.” ZB corrected himself.

—

Much to the dismay of everyone, including the captains, Boomer’s first job for the day involved helping Warrior and Big Stack transport explosives. Both fleets were ordered to give them plenty of room, which they gladly did, excessively so: Not just because it was captain’s orders, but because no one wanted to be hit with flying shrapnel in case this job went wrong.

“C’mon, I’m pretty sure we don’t need to give them that much room.” Hercules sighed, noticing how both fleets were stationed almost a liner’s length apart from each other. Despite his reassurance, no one made a move to get closer.

“Well, I may end up in a museum someday, but that day will not be today and my exhibit will not be one on shipwrecks!” Top Hat argued, earning a few eye-rolls from the rest of his fleet.

“Really, you guys need to stop assuming the worst of him! He’s not even the one towing the explosives, there’s no possible way he could—!“ Hercules was interrupted by an explosion, followed quickly by Big Stack proclaiming “I’m okay!” in the distance. He looked to his horrified fleet. “O-Okay, that was just a fluke! Besides, it doesn’t sound like all the barges exploded—!” As if on cue, there was another explosion.. And another. And another. Warrior, Big Stack, and Boomer met up with their fleet and were thankfully all still afloat and intact, albeit covered in soot and understandably shaken.

“… Did you manage to save any of the barges?” Top Hat squeaked out, looking at the smoke rapidly rising in the distance.

“Some of them! Well, I don’t know how much good they’ll be, since they’re.. kinda-sorta—well, very much on fire now.” Boomer stammered. “But we tried!” Almost immediately after Boomer stopped speaking, there was a bright orange light in the distance, with all the tugs recognizing it as a fire.

Sunshine winced as her fleet scattered and passed her to find the Fire Chief. Ten Cents sighed.

At the very least, the blaze was only the second worst fire he’d ever seen in port.

—

“Who needs the Star Fleet? Zero’s been looking for another tug anyway.” Zorran noted as Boomer and the rest of the Zero Fleet prepared to pull down a group of old buildings. “Now, all you have to do is secure your line to these buildings, sound your whistle to make sure everyone gets clear, and pull them down.” There’s no possible way Boomer could mess this up, it’s so easy that even Zip and Zug can do it!

Boomer did as he was instructed, sounding his whistle as soon as he got his line on the building’s superstructure. The rest of the Zero Fleet stayed back, shut their eyes, and waited for the sound of the building to come down.

… And waited. And waited.

“I’m not hearing any…” Zug stammered to try and find the right word before settling for just poorly imitating the sound of a building falling down. “Y’know, any of that.”

“Zorran?” Boomer called. “It’s— Uh, the building’s not coming down!”

“… What?” Zorran asked incredulously.

“I think I made myself pretty clear, I’ve been—“ Boomer stopped to catch his breath, “I’ve been at it for at least a few minutes and it hasn’t budged.”

Zorran steamed over to where Boomer was struggling, wondering how he could fail such a simple task. “Move over and let me see that!”

ZB cringed as soon as he saw his boss head toward Boomer. “D’ya think the building’s gonna collapse if he—“

Zak quickly wrapped his line around ZB’s towbitts, making sure he stayed put. “Nah, let Zorran figure that out for himself.” He said. ZB stayed out, failing to notice the smirk on Zak’s face.

Zorran approached the building, having pushed Boomer out of the way. “I don’t see any reason why it hasn’t fallen yet—OH NO!” Shrapnel and dust flew everywhere as the building finally collapsed as the Zeroes had hoped.. right on top of Zorran, who sunk to the bottom with a terrified yelp.

Once the dust cleared, the rest of the Zero Fleet hesitantly steamed over to check if Zorran was okay. Thankfully, he wasn’t fully sunk, since the water near the abandoned buildings was too shallow to let that happen. In fact, he seemed relatively fine for a tug who’d just had a small building collapse on top of him.

“You—“ ZB coughed, “You okay?” he asked nervously, turning carefully to avoid hitting the debris in the water and coughing from the still-lingering dust.

Zorran just shook his wheelhouse resignedly, his eyes unfocused. “At this rate, those kids will go blind if they keep talking to that lighthouse.” He muttered.

The Zeroes exchanged a nervous glance with each other.

“I’ll get him to Lucky’s.” Zak sighed.

—

Zorran returned from Lucky’s good as new, although he looked just as irritated as usual. With the Zero Fleet done with their jobs for the day, he planned to meet up with them near a set of old docks, hoping the Star Fleet wouldn’t come by. “So, who do you think is going to be the oh-so-lucky fleet who gets stuck with Boomer?”

“Probably the Star Fleet, I’m calling it now.” Zak said. “They’ll take anything! I mean, look at Grampus! What’s Captain Star gonna do with a submarine, make him check the docks for barnacles?”

“Hey, he could check boats for barnacles too!”

“Not my point, Zug.”

“Sorry.”

—

Unbeknownst to the Zeroes, the Star Fleet were having a near-identical argument at their own dock.

“I don’t wanna say I don’t want him around—“ Sunshine began.

“I do.” Top Hat said snootily, causing the rest of the Stars at the dock to glare at him.

Sunshine ignored Top Hat and went on. “—But Captain just got Grampus, and I didn’t hear her talking about buying another tug.”

“Ah, so Zero wants him, then.” Big Stack sighed. “Never thought I’d say this, but I feel bad for the Zero fleet.”

—

Both the Stars and the Zeroes apparently had the same idea, because Warrior, Big Stack, and Zorran all found themselves gathered in front of the Star Dock in hopes that they’d get Captain Star to change her mind.

“What’s the problem, Star Fleet.. and Zorran?”

“Well, it’s not that we don’t like Boomer..” Warrior began, only for his brother to cut him off.

“We just hate working with him! I keep telling you, every time someone works with him, they end up crashing, sinking, or getting set on fire! Unless you put something into place to keep this from happening, he can work alone!”

Zorran cut in. “Or at least get someone more expendable to—“

“Zorran!” Both brothers snapped, prompting the Zero Fleet’s leader to shut up.

Captain Star sighed. “I guess now’s a good time to tell you that Boomer likely won’t be working with either of your fleets. Zero and I have thought it over and talked it out, and he doesn’t need a new harbor tug and the Star Fleet has plenty of tugs as is.”

“… Oh.” Big Stack and Warrior responded awkwardly. As much as they didn’t like working with Boomer, it wasn’t as if they wanted to drive him out of the harbor.

“Yes!” Zorran cheered quietly, though not quietly enough to keep Warrior from hearing him and shooting him a disapproving glance.

Captain Star ignored the tugs’ reactions and continued. “Star Fleet, I’d like you to say goodbye to him once you’re all done with work. Snugboat Harbor wasn’t the right fit for him, but let’s wish him luck.”

“Aye aye!” The Star Fleeters agreed before leaving to help the rest of their fleet finish work for the day. Zorran just turned around, headed for his own dock, and prepared to go to sleep.

—

The sun was just beginning to fall as the Stars and the Zeroes gathered to say goodbye to Boomer. The Zeroes arrived twenty minutes late, because Zorran refused to leave his dock and it took the rest of his fleet to drag him to the meeting spot.

“Goodbye Boomer! We wish you the best of luck!” Sunshine cheered.

The Zero Fleet looked to Zorran, only to realize he was falling asleep where he was floating. Hoping Boomer wouldn’t notice, ZB bumped his leader, jolting him awake.

“Uh— what she said!” Zorran shouted as his fleet sighed disappointedly behind him.

Thankfully, Boomer took no notice. “Thanks guys! I’ll be sure to write or visit or something once I find my new job!” He shouted before sailing off toward the horizon.. But not before accidentally sinking a buoy on his way out.

“Should we tell—“ Otis wondered aloud before Hercules cut him off.

“Nah, Captain doesn’t have to know.” Hercules said, wanting to just enjoy the moment.

But once Boomer passed under Snugboat Harbor’s bridge, a small piece of infrastructure came loose and crashed down onto his bow. While it wasn’t enough to collapse the bridge, it was certainly enough for Boomer to notice as he yelped in pain.

The Star Fleet froze in horror, wondering if they should go and help before Boomer’s voice broke the silence. “I’m okay!”

Realizing the rest of his fleet was staring at him with an expression that could best be described as “We told you so”, Hercules sighed and turned around to head to his dock. “I know, I know, I’ll go tell Captain.”

[deniigi]

will we be getting anyting spooky for this year? "ain't afraid of no ghost!" fed my halloween loving soul.

hi!!

I’m a little burnt out with writing right now, BUT I do have a piece from the Selkie Verse that’s a little bit ghostly/scary. I can’t remember if I posted it here already or not, but I’ll give it to you (again?)

It’s like 8k so be prepared!

Title: ember ghosts

Summary: Flash forces Peter, Ned, and MJ to go ghost hunting in a local cemetery. Peter decides to add a little pizzazz to this trip in the form of Resident Dead Hero Jack Murdock to get back at Flash. Things, as they are wont, go terribly wrong.

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

Matt’s new coat was white and incredibly heavy; Peter learned that last part upon dragging MJ and Ned over to catch Matt in the act of grooming it.

He barked at them and the volume of the sound locked Peter into place for a minute before he came back to himself and hustled in to go flop down next to Matt and ask him if he needed help first, and then secondly, if his dad was busy.

Matt felt for his chin and then jerked his face close.

“What business do you have with him?” he asked.

Stories about baby seals, obviously.

Matt tossed him away.

“You’re not borrowing my father’s spirit to scare Flash,” he said.

MJ and Ned came over to join the pleading session.

“But Mr. Murdock’s the biggest ghost ever,” Peter lamented.

“He’s a normal sized spirit, not a ghost,” Matt sniffed at him as he gathered up his fur rug from the floor and started picking through it in his lap.

The gesture he used was mesmerizing. He dragged the fur back the wrong way until he found something he didn’t like, then used the last three fingers on his hand to scrape at it until it was vanquished. He pulled his whole hand over the place again and carried on down the stripe he was making until he found another knot or bit of dirt or something to scratch at.

“Can I try?” Ned asked.

Matt’s face jerked his way and he dragged even more of the coat into his lap.

“No touching,” he said.

“I thought Foggy’s coat was the white one?” MJ asked.

Matt gathered his coat even further in offense.

“It will shed,” he said. “It is a new coat.”

“It’s baby fur,” Peter told the others. “Foggy said—”

He got a face full of baby fur and could now confirm that it was soft and fluffy and amazing. He could sleep in this.

“It’s a new coat,” Matt emphasized. “Annoying me will not unlock access to my old man.”

Boo on you, sealman.

“I’m gonna ask your mom then,” Peter declared.

He got yanked down before he was even all the way up.

Matt held his chin again.

“He’s a spirit,” he said. “And a hero. Say it with me.”

“He’s a spirit and a hero,” Peter repeated.

Matt shoved him away.

“If you ask him very nicely, he might be interested in having some time away from the church. But not too long. He can’t be away from Mum for too long, you hear?”

That was permission.

“We hear,” Peter promised. “Should we bring Sister Maggie an offering?”

Matt huffed and stood up. He left his pile of coat behind him and the urge to pet it behind his back was insurmountable. Peter met Ned and MJ’s eyes and bounced his brows. MJ shook her head.

Matt returned from the table and held something out towards the coat. MJ leaned forward and plucked it out of his hand.

“A comb?” she asked.

“Tell her its teeth are too wide,” Matt said. “Go get a bouquet of flowers—no roses, Peter. Go for hyssop if you can find it.”

Copy that.

“Be gone with you.”

“You’re my favorite teammate,” Peter said.

“I said begone,” Matt sniffed.

---

--

-

 “You think he should have just kept it anyways?” MJ asked on the way to May’s friend Tonya’s place.

Ned took the comb from her and held it up to the sun.

“What do you think it’s made out of?” he asked.

Knowing the selkies? Probably teeth.

The other two stared at Peter.

He shrugged.

“Johnny says selkies are obsessed with guarding their teeth,” he said. “So maybe it’s whale bone or something.”

Ned huffed.

“Maybe it’s turtle shell,” he said.

Maybe.

“Why not roses?” MJ asked Peter.

Oh, well that was easy enough.

“There’s not really a kind of rose that isn’t a curse for Mr. Murdock,” he said. “It’s all friendship this, scorned lover that. And from the sounds of it, he doesn’t like them. Hyssop is a sacrifice flower, so you know. It’s an offering for both him and Sister Maggie.”

MJ tapped at her lip.

“Do you think we should cover our basis with a can of sardines, too?” she asked.

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

 ---

--

-

 Tonya, upon learning that the flowers Peter was seeking were to be given to a ‘selkie and her young man’ (in her words) went a little overboard.

She stuffed the hyssop in as an afterthought among a tryptic of sunflowers in a bed of bursting blue cornflowers. She mused on a pink rose or two to top the whole thing off, until Peter informed her that the son of the recipients had warned against it.

She said hollyhock would have to do, and then she gave Peter a basket of herbs for drying back home. She said to leave them outside when he went in to talk to the selkie.

Tonya’s apprentice said nothing the whole time and stared at Peter like he was scum while she snipped the low leaves off the stems of black-eyed susans. Peter resolutely didn’t look at her or her fancy, pale-eyed familiar.

She was a poser, anyways.

“Tell me how it goes,” Tonya hummed, draping herself across the desk and humming. “I wish I could bag a selkie. Imagine it, Missy. Strong handsome man comes up from the banks and—”

“The banks of the Hudson, Ms. Rice?” Missy said scathingly.

Tonya considered this then shrugged.

“He’s shower first,” she said.

Peter and the others said bye.

 ---

--

-

 Sister Maggie was suspicious of the flowers. But to be fair, she was suspicious of pretty much everything. She accepted the comb back much more comfortably.

“You want Jackie?” she asked once that was done.

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter said.

“What for?”

A reckoning.

“One of our classmates is a jerk,” MJ said. “He’s forcing everyone in our club to go ghost-hunting with him even though no one wants to. So we thought we’d give him a run for his money, but we didn’t want to like, disturb anyone or raise the dead or whatever.”

Sister Maggie’s eyebrow arched and Peter swore that she was going to start in for a lecture. He braced himself.

It did not come.

“That’s considerate of you,” she said instead. “How long do you need him for?”

“Like, just a few hours? Fourish?” MJ said.

“Let me ask him,” Sister Maggie said. “I think he’ll be interested, he’s been rolling balls back to the wains all day. It’s only fun for the first five times.”

 ---

--

-

 Mr. Murdock was a good four inches taller than Matt and around forty or fifty pounds heavier. He looked like he could carry all the babies at St. Agnes’s all at the same time if he wanted to. But, having seen the guy in action (i.e. hopelessly lost in the tunnels of the great seanchaidh), Peter now knew that he was kind of a St. Bernard burdened with a troublesome wife and son.

“Have fun,” Sister Maggie said.

Mr. Murdock huffed at her and said that he ‘shan’t’ and it made her laugh as she closed the door behind them all.

“I’m not a ghost,” he told Peter, ignoring the other two’s shock and awe.

“A spirit,” Peter said. “Yeah, I know. But Flash is a dick and you don’t like bullies, right?”

Mr. Murdock’s jaw worked.

“What kind of bully, now?” he asked.

“He calls us names and talks shit behind our backs and runs into me on purpose in the hall during passing period,” Peter said.

“Easy fix for that,” Matt’s dad said with a hand wave.

“Mr. Murdock, I can’t fight him. I’ll break him in half,” Peter said. “Fighting is only for spiders.”

Mr. Murdock did not understand. That was okay, he and Matt only understood the language of hitting people. It was genetic.

“If you can just like, do the glowy thing right behind him tonight when we go to this crypt, that would be super helpful,” Peter said.

“You glow?” Ned asked Mr. Murdock.

Mr. Murdock was not convinced.

“How will me standing over a guy get him to stop bullying you?” he asked.

That…was maybe a fair point.

“It’ll scare him,” Ned said. “And it’ll be all his fault and everyone will blame him and he’ll feel stupid for having made everyone go along with his dumb idea.”

Mr. Murdock considered him and then looked back to Peter.

“Just go with it,” Peter said. “It’s a teenager thing. It’s how we keep each other humble.”

 ---

--

-

 Mr. Murdock didn’t want to wait with them until nightfall. He wanted to be with Matt. That was his second favorite place to be, apparently, after hanging around Sister Maggie, but Peter got the feeling that Matt would talk Mr. Murdock out of some good, honest revenge and into some Catholic guilt if they were stuck together. So he gave him the next best thing.

Foggy was basically a vengeful spirit.

He laughed really hard at the idea of Mr. Murdock going around scaring kids in a cemetery.

“No, no,” he said. “Here, you must—Jack, can you hold things?”

Peter snapped his head back to Mr. Murdock.

“Some,” Mr. Murdock said.

“How much can you lift?” Foggy asked.

Mr. Murdock squinted at him.

“I don’t like the question,” he said.

Foggy abandoned them all to go dig through one of his kitchen drawers. He came back with tiny bottle and held it out to Peter.

“Mix it with some lamp oil,” he said.

Peter took the bottle.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ask not what you don’t want the answer to,” Foggy said. “Just mixy-mix, boyo. Here, I’ve even got a lantern around here somewhere. Jack, we need to dress you for the part.”

Peter paused and turned to look up at Mr. Murdock’s dark eyes and thick hair.

Dress? Him?

You could dress a spirit?

“Why not?” Foggy said. “You, my dear sir, need a coat and a flatcap.”

Mr. Murdock’s whole expression dropped.

“I’m not playing some ghostly lighthouse man in the middle of New York City,” he said.

“You are,” Foggy said seriously. “For your people, Jack. Think about your people. And fix that accent, I know you’ve got a brogue in you.”

 Peter took Mr. Murdock home with him when he and the others split off to reconvene at the cemetery at 8 o’clock. Mr. Murdock rode the train like a champ. It was cramped from the rush hour traffic and Peter entertained himself by watching Mr. Murdock lay his hands tenderly on top of those belonging to douchebags who were plenty tall enough to hold onto the upper bar but who couldn’t be assed to look away from their phones to realize this.

One guy yelped at Mr. Murdock’s touch on his knuckles and ripped his hand off, only to see nothing there. Everyone around him stared at him.

He coughed and reached up for the overhead rail.

Mr. Murdock abandoned him to squeeze through the carriage to the back. He found a pregnant woman standing beside a group of teenagers all listening to music. Peter watched as he inspected the lady’s phone in her hand and then her face. He tapped on the top of the phone so it fell right out of her loose grip, and the woman jumped. The kids all startled at the sound of the phone hitting the ground and two jumped up to pick it up for her. One offered her his seat.

She thanked them and carefully, carefully sat down.

Mr. Murdock watched this with no expression.

Peter swallowed a giggle.

Jonathan ‘Jack’ Murdock. Lighthouse Ghost Impersonator and Subway Manners Enforcer.

 ---

--

-

 “Oh, hey there, long time no see,” May said to Mr. Murdock when Peter got home. “You’re going with Pete and the others tonight?”

Mr. Murdock said nothing.

Peter recounted his poltergeist from earlier for him. May thought it was just delightful.

“I told him to take Johnny,” she said. “But you might be even better.”

“They should just fight it out,” Mr. Murdock said.

“Mm. School authorities won’t go for it,” May said. “So I’m afraid we must stoop to witchcraft.”

 ---

--

-

 Mr. Murdock didn’t know the full glory of Youtube, so Peter spent the next few hours snacking and showing him clips of old vines. Then, when it was time to go, he turned to google how to use an oil lamp. Mr. Murdock watched him struggle for a good five minutes before reaching over him and showing him how.

“Did you and Matt not have electricity in Ireland?” Peter asked him.

Mr. Murdock huffed.

“No, I just uh. I guess I had an interest in maritime shit since I was a kid.”

Ohhh.

“Is that how you met Sister Maggie?” Peter asked.

Mr. Murdock’s lip quirked up a little.

“No,” he said. “But we got there anyways, didn’t we?”

 ---

--

-

 “Do you not like roses?” Peter asked him on the way to the train station.

“They all smell like soap,” Mr. Murdock said as he followed Peter down the steps to the station. He was wearing the hat that Foggy had impressed on him. It was a strange thing; Foggy had marked it with a piece of chalk under the brim before handing it over and it seemed to have made it ghost-apparel. He didn’t have a big scary coat, but he did have a scarf and between that and the hat and the lantern, Mr. Murdock was plenty old-timey lighthouse man.

“Not all of them,” Peter said. “Some smell like lemon.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Mr. Murdock said over the heads of folks by the train. “S’all soap.”

 ---

--

-

 “Did you every hunt for ghosts when you were a kid?” Peter asked when they were approaching the gates of the meeting place. May had given him a bag full of offerings to place on graves when people he was with weren’t looking. Some mandarin oranges and little bouquets of lavender and zinnias with sprigs of baby’s breath. They were pretty. Peter had something like twenty in among the fruit.

“No, the dead never bothered me half as much as the living,” Mr. Murdock said.

That sounded kind of angsty.

“How did you become a hero?” Peter asked.

“Kind of a long, boring story,” Mr. Murdock said. “The short of it, I guess, is that I did a lot of shit for the fae and they appreciated it.”

“Johnny’s starstruck of you,” Peter pointed out. “He thinks you’re like, super cool. He told me you smell really good.”

Mr. Murdock glanced down at him.

“It’s a sign of status for the fae to be attached to a hero,” he said.

Oh???

“Am I a hero? Does Johnny get a boost from being with me?” Peter asked.

Mr. Murdock shrugged.

“You’re both pretty young to be able to know or tell,” he said. “And you’re a witch. So unless you’re a hero-witch, I got nothin’ for you.”

Ah, well. It was worth a shot.

“There’s Ned, that’s our cue. Here, you can take the lantern. I’ll point Flash out to you,” Peter said.

Mr. Murdock took the lantern Peter held out to him without complaint while Peter fumbled through his pockets for a lighter.

He held it out.

“Do you want me to light it or are you okay?” he asked.

“You light it,” Mr. Murdock said. “This is heavy for me in this shape.”

 ---

--

-

 Mr. Murdock took the lantern and left Peter to go meet MJ and Ned. The light had vanished by the time Peter looked back.

“I think Mr. Murdock’s a little sad,” he told the others.

“Ghost separation anxiety?” MJ offered.

“Maybe it’s harder for him to be with people who aren’t his family. Maybe he’s tired,” Ned said.

Yeah, maybe.

“Or maybe he’s a softie who doesn’t like scaring people,” MJ said. “But that means that Matt got his nonsense gene from the nun side.”

It wasn’t implausible.

“Hey, are you guys coming?” Abe tossed back at them. He was prepared with two flashlights and a backpack with a bulky mobile charger in his pocket. He’d said that he wasn’t falling for ‘any ghost shit’ that night and no one was making any ‘dumbass mistakes’ on his watch.

Peter thought that Abe might try to punch Mr. Murdock in the gut. He and MJ agreed to separate him from Flash as soon as possible.

 ---

--

-

 Flash insisted on leading the charge—of course he did. Peter hung back a ways so that he could set offerings on graves. Ned told kept reminding him that he didn’t have to do it for every single one, and obviously Peter knew that. But some of the graves deserved stones on them and a quick prayer. That was just being polite.

Flash caught him at it and asked him if he was scared. Peter told him to mind his own business.

“We’re here to find ghosts, not feed them,” Flash volleyed back.

Peter pointed at him in a way that he hoped was dramatic enough for Mr. Murdock to catch sight of it from wherever he was.

“If they’re eatin’ these, they aren’t eatin’ me,” he said. He offered Flash an orange. “You want one?”

Ned snickered.

“You’re not funny, Parker,” Flash sighed. His breath clouded around him. “Come on, it’s not too much further.”

 ---

--

-

 The ‘crypt’ was actually a mausoleum, as Peter had expected. It was tall and made of stone and Peter could tell immediately that it was of no one of import to the local necromancers.

Even the vultures had declared the folks in this one too boring for their rituals. It was probably a family thing. A bunch of folks who were ordinary but devout. Maybe they had a little money and chose to spend it in death.

Everyone had their own thing.

Peter had oranges and flowers, for example. He snuck around the corner to set one onto the ground by the stone.

His breath puffed out around it and misted away and Peter paused before standing up out of his stoop. He could feel a breeze on his cheeks. He looked up and around.

“Mr. Murdock?” he breathed.

Nothing.

No lantern light.

“You’re not my ghost,” Peter whispered. “I’m just leavin’ a snack, okay?”

The breeze seemed to vanish.

Cool.

“Don’t mind my spirit friend. He’s big and kinda glowy, but he’s not one of you,” Peter said.

“Peter?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. “But this other idiot is gonna try to climb onto your grave. Sorry about him. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

The leaves at his feet blew up and scattered around the orange.

“No problem.” Peter said. “Bye now.”

He hurried back to the others.

 ---

--

-

 The main problem was that none of them knew how roman numerals worked and, surrounded by ghosts, looking it up on the internet was kind of challenging.

MJ and Ned gave Peter pointed looks when he came back to join them.

They knew Peter could read roman numerals. He was assigned the task of keeping his mouth shut without anyone having to tell him.

“Maybe they don’t want to be read,” Felicia said.

“Correct,” Abe agreed. “No reading. I can’t read. None of us can read. This is a blessing of ignorance, given to us by the Lord.”

Flash stared at them.

“X is ten,” he deadpanned.

“Damnit, Flash,” Abe said.

“What’s L?” Flash said. “And M?”

“Code,” Ned chimed in.

He got flat eyebrows all around.

“We live in the twenty-first century,” Flash told the stone. “Just use normal numbers like everyone else.”

The wind kicked up a bit in offense.

“Alright, well, now what?” Abe said. “Not a single ghost so far. Only a creepy stone in a creepy yard with a creepy—oh shit. Turn off the light.”

Say what now?

“Keeper,” Abe snapped over his shoulder, pointing away from them towards a floating light. “Turn ‘em off or we’ll get kicked out.”

Oh.

The lantern.

Peter joined the others in turning off their lights and hiding on the other side of the mausoleum.

“You’d have thought it would be too late for working,” Felicia whispered.

“It’s a graveyard,” MJ whispered back. “The time you need the most coverage is night.”

“Are they still there?” Abe asked.

Flash peeked out from around the stone.

“No,” he said.

Peter untensed his shoulders and stepped out.

“What if it’s not a keeper?” he asked. “What if it’s a—”

“Huh-uh. No,” Abe snapped. “We’re not asking stupid questions tonight, remember, Parker? I specifically said this not 10 minutes ago. No stupid questions.”

Abe had seen a few horror movies, it would seem.

“Alright, alright. No stupid questions,” Peter said. “It’s just—that doesn’t look like a flashlight to me.”

Ned made a show of looking around.

“It’s gone, it doesn’t look like anything to anyone,” he said.

“This is exciting,” Felicia anxiety-giggled.

“It’s not,” MJ sighed. “Well, we’re already here. Might as well keep going.”

The others all turned towards her.

“Wait, you mean, go further?” Flash asked.

MJ shrugged.

“We’re only like, part of the way in,” she said.

Peter surveyed the space beyond their current alley of monuments. The light from the two floodlights at the gated entrance was already weak. Further out, there wouldn’t be light until they hit the war memorial way, way in the back.

That was a plenty big enough stretch.

“Guys? Did it get foggy?” Felicia asked.

Peter shivered.

He had about ten oranges left and an equal number of flower packets.

Welp.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Before it rolls in thicker.”

 ---

--

-

 The grass seemed to get wetter and wetter with every yard and Peter had started to see things out of the corners of his eyes. Shadows. Little flickers of light.

He felt MJ’s fingers sink into his jacket sleeve as he watched an extra set of legs follow behind them in the jerky shadows jostled around by the flashlights.

Abe froze twice, each time to take a deep steady breath and to remind himself that he was not asking stupid questions.

Flash laughed at him, but the sound was strained and a little hysterical. Felicia had grabbed ahold of one of each of their arms up ahead. Ned touched Peter’s shoulder.

“Where is he?” he whispered.

Peter shrugged.

“He’s lantern man,” he said. “We’ll see him.”

“In the mist?”

Mmmm. Okay maybe they should have brought Johnny after all.

 ---

--

-

 They were halfway to the war memorial when the lights above it suddenly went out. MJ’s fingers dug deep into Peter’s sleeve. Ned gasped.

“Dude,” Flash’s voice said in the dark. “That’s not cool. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t you talk to it,” Abe snapped. “Don’t you dare talk to it. Just walk. Don’t ask questions. Just walk.”

Peter felt wind against his cheeks. He shivered.

Mr. Murdock wouldn’t fuck with the lights, would he? Was he that strong?

Peter thought he was supposed to be a spirit, not a ghost. And he’d seemed kind of tired earlier. Surely he hadn’t fallen asleep or something, right?

There was a loud rustle to the right of their group and Peter jumped, which made MJ jump, which made Felicia yelp.

The rustle carried on. It was punctuated with a horrible, wet-sounding slap all of the sudden.

“Wh—what was that?” Flash asked.

Another slap rang out, then another. Followed by the sound of something dropping into leaves. Something…heavy.

“Nice try, slugger,” Mr. Murdock growled.

Actually growled. Like an angry tiger or something.

Peter shivered hard.

This guy hadn’t been scared at all. He’d been preparing himself.

To fight.

Fuck.  

Abort mission. Abort, abort, abort.

“We need to leave,” Peter said sharply.

“Agreed,” MJ said.

“Yep,” Ned said.

“You speak my language finally,” Abe said. “About-face and—”

“Don’t move,” Mr. Murdock said dangerously.

Peter felt his body turn to ice.

“Who’s there?” Flash asked.

“They’re mine,” Mr. Murdock rumbled. “Hands off, ya fuckin’ lowlife. Yeah, get back to your hole. Go on.”

Oh, okay.

Fun times with the undead. Peter should have brought holy water.

“Wh—who’s there?” Flash asked again in a cracking voice.

The sound of metal clanking met them and then an orange flash crackled into sight. And there was Mr. Murdock. Six foot two and missing his hat. He looked huge and solid and his shoulders glowed ever so slightly.

Flash and Felicia and Abe gasped.

“Y’all better be moving along,” Mr. Murdock said, meeting Peter’s eyes seriously.

“Are—are you a ghost?” Felicia whispered.

Mr. Murdock flicked his eyes down at her and they didn’t reflect the light from the lantern.

“Folks call me ‘Jack,’” he said, holding out the lantern. “Or they used to. Nowadays, the little ones call me ‘John.’ This is a ritual grounds tonight, kids. Bad night for a hunt for the living. Go on, I’ll see you out. Take this; your lights won’t work.”

MJ took out her flashlight and it clicked as she turned it on and then off.

“What kind of ritual?” Peter asked.

Mr. Murdock’s lips thinned.

“Go,” he said.

Peter’s chest expanded.

“Where are they?” he asked.

Mr. Murdock shook his head.

“Go,” he said again. “This isn’t for you, little witch.”

Peter heard the others’ shape intakes of air, but he held firm.

“You’re a spirit,” he said. “You can’t stop them.”

Mr. Murdock sighed and his shoulders fell slowly.

“I’m not just a spirit,” he said. “I’m a hero. I’ll see you out. Tell my son the name of this place. He’ll come in the morning.”

Wh—

No, wait.

“Don’t go,” Peter said.

But he was already gone. Felicia was left holding the lantern.

 ---

--

-

 They ran-slipped-fell all the way back the way they’d come. This time, Peter held his breath at the sound of too many feet hitting the wet pockets of mud around them. He heard Felicia sobbing and the lantern clanking dangerously ahead of them.

The floodlights at the entrance had gone out.

They had to carefully climb the fence and pass off the lantern one at a time until they were on the other said, panting.

Peter realized belatedly that he’d dropped the bag of grave offerings.

He dipped his head and clenched his fists.

He’d have to go back for it in the morning.

“You’re a witch,” Flash suddenly snapped at him.

“Lay off,” MJ said immediately.

“You’re a witch and you brought that—that guy with us?” Flash asked.

“It was supposed to be a joke,” Peter said.

“A joke?” Abe said. “You—Peter, witches aren’t real. Ghosts aren’t real. Who was that?”

“No, you, a witch, thought it would be funny to bring some kind of spirit with us to a graveyard?” Flash demanded.

Peter huffed.

“Hey, you were a dick about this first,” Ned said. “The ghost dude is harmless.”

“Harmless?” Flash said. “Harmless? Yeah, fuckin’ streetfighter ghost is harmless.”

“He’s not a ghost,” Abe said, “He’s an actor. Peter that’s not cool, man. That’s not cool.”

“He’s not an actor,” Felicia said quietly.

The rest of them turned to see her holding the still-burning lantern. She was staring into it.

“His hands were so cold,” she whispered.

Abe executed a full-body shiver.

“Well, now what?” he asked. “We’ve trespassed, found a ghost, and nearly got ritualed to death. What else do we need to do to learn that this was a bad idea all along?”

Peter looked up at the gate.

“Dark magic,” he said.

MJ and Ned turned towards him.

“Peter, you’re not going back in there,” Ned said.

“I took charge of the spirit,” Peter said, setting his jaw. “I’m not going back on my word to a selkie.” He jerked back. “I need my familiar,” he said. “You guys can go.”

“Your…familiar?” Abe said slowly. “Peter. Peter, you are not a witch.”

“He’s not a familiar like others are, maybe, but he’s mine,” Peter said. “And he’ll know how to help the spirit.”

Ned and MJ exchanged glances.

“Okay?” Ned said. “Well, where is he?”

 ---

--

-

 Johnny answered his phone and said he’d been 20 minutes. They were the longest 20 minutes of Peter’s life and were spent primarily being interrogated by Abe, Flash, and Felicia.

They were understandably upset by the set-up, and then understandably upset by the fact that they were, in fact, living in ignorance of a whole multi-dimensional plane.

Abe demanded to know if genies were real, and Peter could only say that they probably were.

“Just so I’m clear here,” Flash said. “You went and borrowed your local seal-person’s husband for a jump-scare for us and now we are waiting on a fire demon to help us rescue the seal-person’s undead husband from some evil witches trying to raise the dead?”

Peter chewed a few fingers.

“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” he said.

“PARKER.”

“PETER. OH MY GOD.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Abe sobbed.

“I was appeasing the spirits,” Peter snapped at them. “Why do you think I brought all those oranges? Do I look like I’m vitamin C deficient?”

“You’re a witch,” Felicia said. “You’re a witch. That’s insane. How do you—”

“I’m not a witch,” Peter sighed. “I’m—I’m a—I’m almost a witch.”

“Clearly,” Abe said.

“Hey, leave him alone,” Ned jumped in. “It’s no one’s fault this happened. We all thought we were walking into a totally different situation.”

“Yeah, except Mr. Ghost Man,” Flash said. “He knew what was up. Why didn’t you listen to him? Or, I dunno, read the undead-people signs?”

“Because he’s not my family spirit,” Peter snapped at him. “And he’s not a ghost. He’s a spirit, and not like a spirit, even. He’s a—it’s hard to explain. I don’t even know what he is. He’s just different. He’s like an inbetween kind of—”

“He’s a hero.”

They all looked up to see Johnny standing there in blue with a black knitted scarf wrapped triple around his neck. His eyes flashed orange and red and gold. The ground swayed around him, light up by his internal lantern.

Everyone around Peter recoiled.

“What does that mean, Johnny?” Peter asked quietly. “I don’t understand.”

“It means that the spirits of the sea granted him another life in exchange for the protection he offered their people during his human one,” Johnny said. “You should know by now, Peter; the fae work in exchanges.”

“He already made his deal,” Peter said. “I don’t understand.”

“His deal as a human was fulfilled. His soul is safe with his selkie, only she can shepherd it. It will go to the Otherworld, where he will stay in comfort. But he’s chosen to stay here--as a hero. In this world. And as long as he is here and not in the Otherworld, his purpose is to protect humans and fae, to protect them from each other if he must, as he stands now with a foot on both sides of the line.”

Peter felt his breath coming slowly again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Because,” Johnny said with a sudden smile. “Your soul is already mine—we share a heart remember? I don’t need you getting stupid ideas—imagine if you decided to become a hero, then died and decided to stick around these parts instead of letting me take you to the Otherworld. You’d drive yourself mad, Peter. You’d never sleep ever again.”

Peter blinked.

“You lied to me?” he asked.

“I’m a fire demon,” Johnny said. “We listen to truths. We don’t have to tell them.”

Wow.

“Know that I’m really upset with you right now,” Peter said.

Johnny bobbed his head.

“But you’re more upset about the hero,” he said. “No need for that. He didn’t become a hero by dumb luck, and anyways, look at his kid. He’ll be fine; he’s the original material. A little dark magic isn’t gonna tear him up. He’s probably just gonna—”

There was a flash like miniature lightening through the bars of the gate.

“I take it back,” Johnny said. “Whoopsy-daisy. Come on, now, heart-boy. Up and over.”

 ---

--

-

 Peter landed on the other side of the gate right into mud that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

“What’s going on?” he asked as Johnny hopped down with him.

“Big, wet,” Johnny said. “Dark, dark magic. Gross. Sticky. Here, we need more light.”

Little embers glittered in the throw of fire that expanded Johnny’s lantern lights. It brightened the space substantially and when Peter looked down, the ground was dry.

“Dude,” Flash said. “You know what? I’m convinced.”

“Johnny Storm is a fire demon,” Abe wept into his hands.

“Stay here,” Peter told Ned and MJ, we’ll be—”

“BACK. BACK. BACK.”

Johnny slammed Peter against the fence and let out a hiss that sounded like water hitting a scalding piece of metal. Peter’s heart throbbed. Johnny slowly released the pressure on him and made a clicking noise.

“I think,” he said after a moment. “That perhaps I am not a big enough fire.”

Dude, what?

Johnny turned to him.

“Sorry,” he said sadly. “More and more are waking up every second. They’re heavy.”

Dude, what?

“I’m really sorry,” Johnny said. “But uh. I think I need to, uh—”

“Need to what, Johnny?” MJ demanded on the other side of the fence.

Johnny looked like he was going to cry.

 ---

--

-

 “JONATHAN STORM.”

Scary, scary, scary, scary, scary.

“Sue,” Johnny pleaded. “Not here. Not now. There’s hero in the—”

“Oh, I see him,” Sue Storm said, looming. “He’s doing just fine. He’ll hold on for long enough for me to—”

“It’s my fault,” Peter blurted out. “I called him here.”

Sue Storm’s blue eyes seemed to blaze in the dark.

“Don’t blame him,” Johnny said. “I’ll take it. He’s my human. I’ll take it.”

“This is dark magic,” Sue said. “None of you should be here. This earth will turn sodden under the spell of these monsters. The hero will return it to balance. You two, in the meantime, are no heroes. Not even halves of one.”

Peter felt his face burning.

“He’s the selkie’s, Sue,” Johnny said quietly. “He’s not long a hero. Please help him?”

Sue Storm chewed her tongue, gazing holes into Johnny’s face. Johnny looked away first.

“Which selkie?” she demanded.

“Her name is Margaret,” Peter said.

Sue’s face jerked his way. Her eyes widened and she turned back out towards the cemetery.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That selkie. She’s more like us.”

Peter frowned.

“I don’t—” he started.

“She honors the earth and its fae even though she’s sea folk,” she said. She sighed heavily. “Alright, fine. I’ll help. But for the hero, not either of you, you hear? Johnny, you’ll need to make things right with the selkie. She’ll be furious. She’s been nothing but kind to our people. We can’t repay her like this.”

“Will do,” Johnny said.

“Stay here,” Sue said. “All of you. The curse has got into you. We’ll break it all at once.”

Oh shit.

MJ and Ned turned slowly towards Peter.

“Curse?” Ned asked.

Peter groaned.

---

--

-

 “It’s a friendship circle,” Johnny bubbled as Peter shoved him, once again, into the sigil he was trying to draw in the dirt at the cemetery entrance.

“I’m gonna salt you in and I will not regret it,” Peter threatened him.

“Johnny, come sit,” Ned said, patting the place between him and Felicia.

“Never,” Johnny hissed at him. “My heart is right—”

Peter left him to finish the circle. Johnny hurried to keep up with him.

Flash watched after him with furrowed eyebrows and a fist pressed to his mouth.

“This is not how this night was supposed to go,” he said.

“We didn’t even ask any stupid questions,” Abe sighed.

“What’s she doing out there?” Felicia asked.

Peter shoved Johnny’s flailing body towards her and finally finished the circle. He’d never made one this big. He started in on the protective signs around the interior.

“She’s a boggart!” Johnny chirped. “She’s boggart-ing!”

Peter felt the pause of the others more than he heard it.

“What does that mean?” Felicia asked.

“Oh. She’s a faerie of darkness,” Johnny said. “So she’s probably winding her way through all the posers and chasing them back to their hovels so that she can go chase the witches away from the hero and let him rest for a bit. She’ll guide him back if he’ll let her—which he might not. You never know with heroes. He might not want her smell on him.”

Peter had the feeling that Mr. Murdock was made of more sense than pride.

“How long will that take?” Abe asked.

Johnny made happy crackling sounds.

“Who knows! Depends on the witches,” he said. “Depends on how many people she needs to terrify. Boggarts get power through fear. The more spirits she scares, the faster she’ll be.”

Peter moved Ned’s backpack out of the way and carried on.

There was a lull.

“Peter, what are you doing?” Felicia asked.

“Protection circle,” MJ said for him.

“Oh.”

There was another silence.

“Where did you learn that?” Abe asked.

“His aunt’s a full witch. She does business in herbs, potions, and materials for their part of Forest hills,” Ned said.

“Oh.”

Flash and Abe scooted forward to let Peter in behind him. They watched him.

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” Felicia said. “Thanks for that.”

A mumbled thanks went around the whole group. Peter finished the final marks and stepped carefully over them into the circle.

“It’s nothing,” he sighed, flopping down and dragging Johnny away from Ned. “I should have known better. I think the ghosts were trying to warn me from the start. I should have listened better.”

More awkward silence.

“Well, it sounds like the fighting’s calmed down,” MJ said. “Mr. Murdock should be okay.”

Yeah.

“Wait,” Abe said. “Isn’t that your boss, MJ?”

Welp.

“Ghost man is my boss’s dad,” MJ sighed.

“Oh my god,” Felicia giggled. “You guys roped your boss’s dad into a practical joke?”

“He didn’t even want to scare you guys,” Peter groaned. “Man, I gotta learn how to read spirits. Johnny, how do I read spirits?”

“No idea. Spirits don’t like me. I’m too bright and obnoxious,” Johnny said.

“I’m un-bonding us,” Peter said. “You have nothing but bad advice and secrets.”

Johnny made kissy noises at him then scrambled up straight.

“Sue’s got the hero,” he said. “She’s arguing with him. Ahahaha.”

Peter cleared his throat. Johnny startled.

“Right, sorry,” he said. “She’s uh. Trying to convince him to come with her, but he’s refusing to look at her. Smart guy, you know that? Name a boggart and they’ll go off on you. He doesn’t want to chance it. Sue’s telling him that she’ll do the invisible thing so he doesn’t see her and he’s not into it, guys.”

Peter took it back. Maybe Mr. Murdock had too much sense for his own good.

“Can you talk to him?” Felicia asked.

“Who? Hero-man? Nah. I can just feel Sue’s frustration,” Johnny said. “Sibling bond, forever. You know?”

No, Johnny. No one knew. The only people with siblings in the circle were MJ and Abe.

“You’re so annoying,” MJ said.

“Aw, I like you too,” Johnny tittered.

Peter yanked him back and prayed that Mr. Murdock would give into the inevitable soon.

 ---

--

-

 “Look? See? No trouble. Not even a little trouble. Did I lie to you?”

Peter snapped awake and shook himself. He blinked into the dark until the shapes of bodies appeared before him as the other woke up too. They all turned around to see the dark outline of Sue standing on the other side of the fence.

Mr. Murdock’s tall shape was there too.

They looked…uh.

Kinda scuffed up, actually, hair-wise and scratches and bruises--the whole thing.

“Lord, she’s still talking to me,” Mr. Murdock said, facing away from Sue, now that Peter could see better.

“God is smart enough to see through you talking to him to talk to me,” She pointed out.

“Lord, you are so unknowable,” Mr. Murdock said pointedly.

“You know, for a fae hero, you’re sure religious.”

“Please see me through this period of suffering,” Mr. Murdock carried on. “And safely away from this hostile body and place.”

Johnny leapt up.

“You found him!” he cheered.

“Yes, of course I did,” Sue said. “He was fine, by the way. Meat-head here has anvils for hands.”

“I keep hearing voices, Lord,” Mr. Murdock said miserably. “Whatever sin it is I’ve committed, I’m willing to repent. But you’ve gotta help me out, man; the priest is convinced I’m a demon in his confession box.”

“Move,” Sue told Johnny. “Come one, Hero-man. We’re going through a fence. I dunno if you’ll fit with all those muscles.”

They all watched as Sue got a handful of the back of Mr. Murdock’s shirt and dragged him through the largest part of the gate uncomfortably.

“You did it!” she cheered. “Successful hero. Another quest fulfilled. Look at all these living children. And you even picked up a rock! That’s good for a young guy like—”

“I’m going back to the church and I’m never leaving,” Mr. Murdock finally told her directly.

“Oh,” Sue said. “You’re a church hero. That’s new.”

“I’m done. No more seals. No more mountains. No more lakes. No more cemeteries,” Mr. Murdock said, shaking himself and dragging his hands through his hair to smooth it out.

“Oh, wow, you’ve really been through it, huh?” Sue asked his back as he left them all in place.

“No more superpowers either,” Mr. Murdock said over his shoulder at her. He moved on ahead purposefully.

“I want him,” Sue told Johnny forcefully.

“He’s taken,” Johnny reminded her.

“He’s sturdy is what he is,” Sue said.

“Reed is sturdy,” Johnny pointed out.

Sue contemplated this.

“But he’s not fae,” she said.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Sue, we can throw your boyfriend into a graveyard of dark magic and let him fight his way home,” he said. “That’s something we can do. We can even time him.”

Sue drummed fingers across her face and slowly wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulders until his cheek was smushed up against hers against his will.

“You are so smart, little brother, sometimes I forget how smart you are,” she said.

She threw him away and straightened herself out.

“We’re hours from dawn,” she said. “We’re going home. Baby witch, you and my brother will apologize to the selkie tomorrow. I don’t think the hero wants to stay with you until then. I’m 90% sure, actually, the hero is already catching a train without you. The rest of you--”

She rounded on all of them.

“Do not play with ghosts, witches, spirits or any receptacle of them, do I make myself clear?”

Peter shrunk under her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” they all mumbled.

She sniffed.

“Good,” she said. “Now we all need to go talk to baby’s witch’s mom. You have one hell of a curse hanging over you.”

---

--

-

 May was not pleased.

May doused them all in six different herb waters and made them eat something foul that tasted like charcoal and rubbing alcohol.

Then they had to get sprayed off with the hose in the backyard until all the cemetery mud came off and only then did May send everyone home.

---

--

-

 “Hey Peter?”

Peter looked up from his grinding in the doorframe the next morning—it as far as he was allowed at the present moment—and jumped at the whole group from the night before staring down at him.

He scrambled up.

“Uh, hi,” he said.

“Did you say sorry to the selkie yet?” Felicia asked him.

He almost wanted to shush her and check for passersby. May swore at something in the kitchen behind him. He edged forward and closed the door as far as he could without closing it all the way.

“No, not yet. What are you all doing here?” he asked.

He got a wave of eyebrows all around.

“We wanted to go with you and to say thanks. To the hero guy. You know. For uh, saving us from certain and horrible death,” Abe said.

Oh.

Oh.

“Let me, uh--give me just a second,” Peter said.

 ---

--

-

 Matt was at his apartment and he opened the door at the third knock. He heard MJ clear her throat and started cackling immediately.

“Don’t be a dick,” MJ said. “Let us say thank you.”

Matt remained inarticulate.

“Oh my god,” he finally choked. “Do you know—I haven’t—He hasn’t been this mad since I ate fries off the street—hold oh. Oh my god.”

Ew, man. That’s disgusting.

“Pops, come on out,” Matt coaxed, wiping tears from his eyes and skirting fingers across his kitchen counter until he got to cupboard under the sink. “They just wanna say sorry, Dad. It’s okay. There’s no secret second quest.”

Mr. Murdock refused to exit his newfound home.

Matt snickered so hard his shoulders shook. He stood up and found his counter to lean his elbows against.

“No harm, no foul to us,” he said amiably. “Mum’s been trying to keep a straight face in Mass. He came here for sympathy that I’m afraid I don’t have.”

Man. It was a wonder that Mr. Murdock stuck around at all.

Peter puffed himself up anyways.

“Mr. Murdock,” he said. “I know you can hear me. And I wanted to say that I’m sorry for roping you into the whole thing yesterday, but I’m also super glad you were there. ‘Cause we would’ve been screwed otherwise. So thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Felicia said. “You’re really nice, and I’m glad you were there, too.”

The others added their thanks to the pile and Matt grinned in the direction of the cupboard.

“Come onnn,” he drawled. “I can feel you giving in, in there.”

Nothing.

Matt muffled a round of giggles in his sleeve.

“He accepts your thanks,” he said. “He’s just allergic to sunlight and gratitude.”

The cupboard door rattled violently. Matt shoved a foot against it.

“Mum isn’t mad either, she thinks it’s healthy for him to do quests without her,” he said. “So you’re all good with the three of us.”

Peter wasn’t positive that they were actually. But okay, sure?

“I guess we’ll leave you guys to uh, brood? Baseball? Whatever it is you do together?” He said.

Matt hummed and nodded and waved them out. Peter shut the door behind them.

“That was easy,” Flash said.

“Man, I hope my dad just dies the once,” Abe said.

“My dad isn’t cool enough to fight zombies in a graveyard,” Felicia said.

MJ considered this.

“My mom could do it,” she said.

Ned snorted. Peter swallowed a laugh.

---

--

-

 “So,” Flash said as they passed by the church that Mr. Murdock usually called home. “I know it was all kind of an actual nightmare, but like. I dunno.”

Peter stopped.

“You want more fae bullshit?” he asked in shock.

Flash rubbed at the back of his neck and even Abe and Felicia refused to make eye contact. Ned and MJ stared at them, then Peter in shock.

“It’s just really cool,” Flash admitted. “Like, there’s all this stuff that I thought was fake. But it’s all happening here, all at once—you know. Heroes and zombies and fire demons and witches.”

“This isn’t a tv show,” Peter said. “You know that right? Like, we don’t always win? Yeah, there are heroes and witches, but there’s also really bad magic. Dangerous fae. There are turf wars and tricksters and everything you do is a deal and you always owe someone something. It’s not always fun.”

“Okay, but isn’t it better to know?” Flash asked.

Peter closed his lips.

He didn’t have an argument for that.

“I’m not teaching you,” he sniffed. “I’m already apprenticed. If you want a mentor, it can’t be me—and you can’t have my demon.”

“But he’s Johnny Storm,” Abe blurted out. “Johnny. Storm. Peter, how did you even swing that? And why does he listen to you.”

“He doesn’t,” MJ butted in.

“He does,” Peter corrected.

“He really doesn’t,” Ned said. “Peter’s an amateur witch at best who bound himself to a fire demon with impulse control issues.”

Wow. Betrayed by his own family.

“I’m leaving, I’m grounded, you guy go get a grimoire or something and learn your magic bullshit yourselves,” he said.

“Aww, come on.”

“They were just joking, Peter.”

“Come backkkkk.”

Mr. Murdock had the right idea. Peter had a cupboard to find.

------

 Hope this hits the spot, boo!! And Happy Halloween, y’all!

[cassnottiel]

a s7 freddyxdeke au? but also totally ignore this if u dont feel for the ship lol. maybe something like deke and freddy highkey fall for eachother during the first trip, things still end up the same way they did but its a bit more tragic. then deke meets old freddy and he recognizes him asap this time. and he's such a shattered and different person deke's heart is highkey broken by who he's become. maybe some hurt/comf with the whole team of emm. or the team attempting with varying results lol

"Deke, how do you do this?"  Daisy smiled at herself, clad in a green very nice dress.

"I've always had great style."  He said indignantly.  "I still have the leather jacket from the future."

Daisy nodded and fixed her neck line, before offering her arm.  "Shall we?"

Deke and Daisy, arm in arm, walked through the party of politicians and jazz music, up to the bar Mack was standing behind.

"Two of your finest Zimas, please."  Deke said in his own version of suave.  He would have made another joke, but someone caught his eye.

A man his age, standing behind the bar with Mack and Coulson, stocking the liquor.  His hair was slicked back, like Dekes, but he wasn't wearing a tuxedo, favoring a regular white shirt with brown suspenders and tie.  Deke really wanted that Zima, his mouth had gone dry.

When Mack assigned their stations, Deke made up a reason to walk around the bar area, wanting to look for that man again.

He was back behind the bar when Deke got back, and Daisy and Coulson were gone.  He took a seat at the bar.

"Zima doesn't exist."  Mack told him, sliding over a glass of clear liquid.

"What's this?"  Deke brought the beverage up to his nose and smelled it.

"Water."  Mack answered.  "Basically Zima."

Deke rolled his eyes and pushed the glass away.  "I'll take a martini."

Mack gave a weird look.  "You don't even like beer, how would you like vodka?"

"I told you," Deke shrugged, "boot juice."

It was Mack's turn to roll his eyes.  "In the normal world, we call it moonshine."

Deke sighed dramatically and slumped against the bar.  Mack wasn't going to make the drink.

A glass with a tall stem and an olive was slid across the bar.  Deke looked up and met eyes with the other man behind the counter, who winked and smiled.

Deke switched seats so he was sitting in front of the other bartender.  "Thank you, how much is this?"  He reached into his pocket.

"On the house."  The man shook his head.  "Because your friends are working."  He added as an afterthought.

"What's your name?"  Deke asked, then took a drink of the martini.

"Freddy."  The bartender answered.  "You?"

"D-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Governor Franklin Roosevelt."  The band stopped playing and the crowd applauded.

Deke turned and watched a man walk stiffly up to the microphone and started talking.

"He's really here."  Mack was smiling slightly, watching the politician up on the stage.

"The governor?"  Freddy started cleaning a glass.  "What's the big deal?"

Mack kept talking, and Deke didn't listen until he heard the words "way ahead of his time."  He whipped his head around and met Macks eyes.

"Or, will be, someday."  Mack covered badly.  Freddy gave him a weird look, before turning his attention back to Deke.

"So, Freddy, anyway," Deke changed the subject quickly, "how'd you fall into this shifty line of work?"

Freddy shrugged and leaned against the bar.  "Well, after my dad kicked the bucket, I was hustling work in the streets.  Mr. Koenig offered me some."

Deke nodded solemnly in understanding.  "I lost my dad, too."  Images of the Lighthouse in over one hundred years flashed through his mind, and he remembered some of the things he did to survive.  "You do what you gotta do."

Freddy understood.  Maybe not all of it, but he knew Deke and him were thinking along the same lines.

The party went on, FDR hadn't died yet, and conversation fizzled out.  Deke drank the water when his martini was gone, stealing glances at Freddy every now and again.

"Deke."  Mack nodded to the other side of the room, where Coulson and Daisy were moving.  The two men at the bar left Freddy to follow.

The service hallway was empty, except for the four S.H.E.I.L.D agents.  FDR wasn't the target.

"The Chronicoms are after someone else, named Freddy."  Jemmas voice crackled over the radio

"Freddy?"  Dark hair and sharp features flashed to the front of Dekes mind.

The four took off running down the hallways, then they heard a suppressed gunshot.  Daisy quaked the robots away and went to finish them off.  They rounded the corner and saw a woman bleeding on the ground and Freddy sitting against the wall.

"What is all this?"  Freddy asked breathlessly, staring at the three men.

"We're saving your life."  Deke answered and held his hand out.  "Let's go."

Freddy looked at him for a second, then took his hand and stood up.  Deke might have held on for a second longer than needed, but nobody noticed.

"We'll keep him safe.  Meet back at Koenigs."  Mack said, then followed Deke and Freddy down the hallway to the back exit.  Their stolen truck was back there.  Mack got in the drivers seat, Deke in the passengers, and Freddy in the back.

"The cops will be on us any minute,"  Deke turned in his seat to look out the back window.

"Any idea why they're after you, kid?"  Mack glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove.

"No, none."  Freddy leaned forward.  "I-I'm just supposed to make a delivery tonight."

"Well, if they wanted to stop him, we better make sure they don't."  Deke looked to Mack.

"Tell us where you need to go."  Mack said to Freddy.

A siren flared to life behind them, the cops were chasing them.

"Faster!"  Freddy yelled, looking out the back window.  "They're gaining on us!"

"This boat won't go any faster!"  Mack yelled back.

"We gotta give 'em the slip."  Freddy told the other two.

"Yeah, and we gotta lose them, too."  Deke suggested.  He felt Freddys eyes on him, and the look on his face told him they had said virtually the same thing.

Mack turned off the engine and drifted into an abandoned alley.  the three ducked down under the line of sight from the windows.  The police car sped off down the street, and the three men sat up in their seats.

Freddy laughed.  "So long, Coppers."

"Where do we go now?"  Mack asked.

Freddy smiled and clapped them both on the shoulder.  "Gotta deliver the goods."  Then he opened the door and jumped out of the car.

Mack and Deke made eye contact, then followed.  Freddy opened the bed of the truck, revealing their other clothes.  "Might wanna get out of those fancy duds, you kinda stick out."

As Mack grabbed his other shirt and jacket, Deke snatched up the radio.  "This is Deke."  He said into it.  "Hello?  Is anyone there?"  Nobody answered.

"What's that?"  Freddy nodded to the device Deke was holding.  

"It's like a, uh, telephone."  Mack tried to explain.  "Deke's an inventor."

"Hello?  Is anyone out there?  Daisy?"  Deke wasn't paying attention to the others.  "Jemma?  Coulson?"  A beat, and still no answer.  "These things suck."  Deke tossed the walkie down into the truck.  "They have, like, zero range."

"It's gotta be plugged into something."  Freddy said, like it was the most obvious thing.

"No, I know how they're supposed to work"  Deke picked up his clothes.  "I can fix it."

"This is the delivery?"  Mack picked up a bottle.  "More booze?  They'd kill you over this?"

"This is the highest grade giggle juice ever made."  Freddy took the bottle.  "A lot of people would kill to get their paws on the formula."

Mack sighed.  "If we're going to protect you, you need to be honest with us."

Then Freddy said something Deke couldn't understand even if he tried, and then they started driving again, to a train yard.

They carried the four cases of alcohol out of the car and set them on the ground.  

"Who's the buyer for all this?"  Mack asked as Deke looked up at the night sky and fixed his tie.

"Some guy, I dunno."  Freddy shrugged.

"What's he look like?"  Mack tried.

"No idea."  Freddy slipped his hands into his pockets.

"When does he get here?"  Deke asked.

Freddy smiled, like he just said something funny.  "He doesn't.  The meet-up is 500 miles away."

Deke and Mack shared a look.  "That's a lot of miles, we don't have time for that."

"Why'd you have us unload this, then?"  Mack sounded close to angry.

"So you can take the car and go."  Freddy told them.  "This is where we go our separate ways, fellas."  A train whistle blew in the distance, getting closer.  "That's my ride.  I appreciate you saving my life," he looked right at Deke as he said that, "I owe you one."

"We're not leaving you."  Deke said before he knew what he was doing.  Luckily, Mack nodded.

"I don't need no body guard."  Freddy shook his head, the train rumbling closer.  

"The cops that are after you, they're not the type to give up."  Deke said seriously.  "They're gonna keep coming until they finish you off."

Freddy stared into Dekes eyes for a long, silent moment.  Then he nodded wordlessly, and the three men got on the train.

Freddy was fiddling with the small radio, Mack was sitting on the floor of the box car, and Deke was looking out at the passing scenery.

"You really invented these?"  Freddy asked.  Deke looked back, met Macks eyes, who nodded, then back to Freddy.

"Yeah, I did."  Deke took off his hat and sat next to Freddy.  "It's just a prototype."

"And you can talk to someone on it?"  Freddy was smiling in disbelief.  "It doesn't have to be plugged in?"  He met Dekes eyes.  "You must be real smart."

Mack sighed, got up, and walked to the other side of the car.  "I'm going to get some rest."  The look he gave Deke conveyed: don't do anything stupid.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Freddy spoke.

"Deke."  He said the name like it was a foreign word.  "That's a funny name.  Where're you from?"

"Upstate," Deke said, the answer he gave anyone who asked that same question, "near lake Ontario."

Freddy smiled.  "Is that why you don't understand any slang from the city?  You've never been?"

"I think the slang is horrible and I'm not even going to try to understand, but I like the accent."  Deke laughed.

Freddy nodded.  There was another stretch of awkward silence.

"So, uh," Freddy scratched his head, "at the party, you walked in with a real pretty lady."

Deke furrowed his brow in confusion, then realized who he was talking about.  "Oh, that's just Daisy.  She's a friend."

Freddy laughed quietly.  "Just a friend?  You mean she's not your girl?"

Deke shook his head with a smile.  "No, Daisy isn't anyones girl."  

"That's too bad," Freddys smile sent something through Deke, "I would've thought a handsome guy like you would have girls lined up."

Deke flushed and looked away.  "You're really smooth, you know that?"

"I should hope so."  Freddy leaned forward and offered the Walkie-Talkie.  When Deke took it, their hands brushed.  Freddy leaned farther forward and placed his hand on Dekes arm.

The next thing Deke knew, a pair of lips were on his.  Something that surprised him very much.  The kiss short, but it was hot.

Seconds after it started, it stopped.  Freddy pulled back, looking slightly sheepish, leaving Deke red and breathless.  "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Deke grabbed Freddy by his tie and pulled him in again, capturing his lips in his own.  They almost fell back, but Freddy braced his hand on the wall of the car, bringing his other hand up to Dekes hair, still stiff from the gel.  Deke hummed and opened his mouth into the kiss, screwing his eyes shut.

Freddy got off his chair and climbed into Dekes lap, straddling his hips, never breaking the kiss in the process.  He leaned a little too far forward, and Dekes chain fell back.  The two fell to the floor in a crash, and they laughed breathlessly as they lay on the uncomfortable wood.  Deke was about to lean up for another kiss, when--

"Hey, are you--?"  Mack stood up in a hurry, and stopped dead when he saw the two men on the floor.  "Deke!"  Freddy pushed himself up and away from Deke.  

"Whaaaat?"  Deke dragged out the word with a sigh and let his head fall to the floor.

"Hey, if you got a problem with--"  Freddy stood up and tried to look threatening, but Mack waved him off.

"I don't care, just don't do that while I'm in the room!"  Mack ran a hand down his face.

"Do you want us to jump cars?"  Deke sat up shook his head, showing off his messily ruffled hair.  

Mack looked away from the two.  "Either that or stop."

"It's a box car, there aren't doors on the end you can just jump between."  Freddy piped up, fixing his tie.  

Mack shook his head and gestured vaguely to the opposite end of the car, walking back to where he dropped his coat and hat.

Deke pushed himself off the floor and offered his hand to Freddy, pulling him behind a stack of boxes that were there before they got on.  They both sat on the floor, Freddy with his back to the boxes and Mack, and Deke against the wall.

"So," Freddy started awkwardly, "your friend doesn't mind all . . ." he gestured between the two.

Deke shook his head nonchalantly.  "No, he's fine."  He smiled jokingly.  "He just thinks I'm annoying."  The rumble of the train and the slight shaking of the cargo drowned out whatever noise Mack was making, so their hushed voices wouldn't reach him.  At Freddys unconvinced expression, Deke gave a more serious answer.  "Where we grew up, it was different.  It was like a different time," he smiled softly at his own joke, "it wasn't exactly New York City."

"Greatest city in the world."  Freddy smiled sadly.  "My old man took a walk off a tall building after the market crashed.  I'm kinda glad he never found out about this."

"I'm sorry."  Deke reached out and placed his hand on Freddys knee, trying to be comforting.  "My dad, he . . . he left when I was twelve.  Died a few years ago."

Freddy placed his hand on top of Dekes and smiled sadly.  Something crossed his face, and he shifted himself forward.  "When I make this delivery, come with me."

Deke tilted his head slightly.  "What?"

"It's not just whiskey."  Freddy whispered excitedly.  "There's something else, and when I give it to the buyer, I'm going to get back everything my family lost and more.  Come with."  He kissed Deke quickly.  "We can--"

"Mackenzie . . ."  The radio crackled to life.  ". . . can you . . . information . . ."

Deke and Freddy quickly stood up and ran around the pile of boxes.  Freddy stopped short, staring at his open crates of liquor.

". . . Wilfred . . ."  Enochs voice fizzled out as Mack picked up the walkie.

"Enoch, I copy, do you hear me?"  Mack waited for a response, but none came.  Freddy slowly stepped around Deke and toward his shipment.  "Enoch, do you copy?  Over."

"What the hell was he doing?"  Freddy pointed to the alcohol crates and spoke to Deke.  He started rifling through them, making sure everything was there while Mack spoke into the radio.  "Wanna tell me why you're snooping through my goods?"  

Mack lowered the radio with a sigh, stepping closer to Freddy.  "I need to know who and what we're dealing with.  You may not think there's more to this, but I do."

Freddy turned back to Deke.  "So, was that just to distract me?"  His face went from suspicious to angry.  "Keep me busy while your friend looks through my cargo?"  The last few words grew to a yell and Deke shook his head.

"Just let me inspect the bottles."  Mack said calmly.  

"And get me killed?"  Freddy whipped back around.  "I deliver open bottles.  What's that say about me?  That I'm a snoop?"

"You're not curious?"  Mack asked.

"Curious'll get you kill faster than trust."  Freddy looked back at Deke as he said that.

"Let's just get him there and be done with it."  Deke said to Mack.  "It's ripples, not waves, right?"

Mack ignored Deke, instead stepping closer to Freddy.  "Step aside."

The two stood in a silent challenge for a moment, then Freddy stepped aside.

"Deke, give me a hand."  Mack said and picked up a bottle.  Deke hesitated, looking back at Freddy, before slowly following the order.

A gun clicked.  "Like I said," Freddys voice was quiet, "I can't let you do that."

"Put the gun down."  Mack said evenly.

"You need to listen to Deke, here."  Freddy gestured to the man in question with the gun.  "Just let me do my job, and we can all go home."

There was a long, excruciating moment of silence.  Finally, Freddy stepped back and pointed to two boxes.  "Both of you, sit down."  His voice was shaking, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Slowly, the three men all sat down.  Freddy refused to look at Deke.  They sat.  Time passes.  The sun rose over the horizon.  All in silence.  All with Freddy pointing that gun.

"Why don't you come clean."  Freddy said suddenly, the train still rumbling along the tracks.  "You ain't bootleggers, and you definitely ain't from around here."

"Okay, you're right."  Deke sat up straighter.  "We were sent a very, very, very long way to make sure that you don't die."

"Why?"  Freddy asked, leaning forward slightly.  "'Cause I'm this 'thread'?  What does that even mean?"

"It's complicated," Mack looked up from his hands, "but Deke's right.  Our job is to protect you.  How do you know your buyer?"

"I know her, the lady who sent me to do this."  Freddy gripped the revolver tighter.  "She knew my father.  And she's giving me a chance to be something he never could."  He looked at Deke, then, a question in his eyes.  A question of, would you still go with me?

Before Deke could do anything to answer, the whistle ripped through the air and the train car shook.  Mack leapt forward, tackling Freddy.  The gun fell from his hand, and Deke picked it up.

They brought the crates of alcohol out to the pier.  As Mack started looking for whatever was hidden inside, someone spoke from the other end of the radio.

"Mack?  Deke?"  It was Daisy.  "Are you there?"

"Hey, it's Deke."  He picked it up and answered.

"Finally.  We're on our way to you.  You guys have to be ready to leave as soon as we arrive. We have no time.  Where's Mack?"

"He's with Freddy."  Deke walked a little farther away from the pair, but kept his eyes on them.  Freddy spared a glance every now and then.

"Freddy is not what he seems.  He is very dangerous."

"Freddy?"  Deke turned around and watched the water, squinting against the sun.  "Nah, he's alright.  He's just in a tight spot.  We kind of have a lot in common, actually."  Thoughts of the previous night made themselves known in his head.

"No, you don't.  Trust me."  Daisy cut him off quickly.  "Do not let him out of your sight."

"Okay, don't worry."  Deke said nervously, looking back at the man in question, who was staring back at him.  "I-I got him in my sight and my finger on the trigger."

A beat of silence.  "You have a gun?"

"Yeah, it's Freddys."

Another beat.  "Take the shot."

Dekes eyes widened and he stared down at the radio.  "Pardon?"

"That's Wilfred Malick, future head of Hydra."  Daisy said.  "If you kill him now, you'll save thousands of lives in the future."

Dekes stomach dropped.  He stared down at the gun, not listening to Daisy anymore.  He set the radio down and approached the others.

"Mack."  Deke said seriously.  "They're on their way, and we have to leave as soon as possible."

Mack nodded and popped the cork of one of the bottles, and started pouring.  "We'll be ready."

"One more thing."  Deke looked at Freddy, then back at Mack.  "Daisy says this is Wilfred Malick."

Freddy looked between them.  Dekes hesitation and Macks shock.  "My name, so what?"

"She told me to kill him."  Deke couldn't look at Freddy, not even when he heard the sputtering questions.

Mack thought for multiple seconds, paying no mind to the vial of green liquid that falls out of the bottle in his hand.  "She did?"

Deke nodded, glancing at Freddy.  He was staring in horror back.

"Watch him."  Mack said and walked over to where the radio was set down.

Mack started talking into the radio, and Freddy started talking to Deke.

"My guy's here in a few minutes," Freddy sounded desperate, "we can still go, get everything we want in life."

"Freddy," Deke closed his eyes, "I can't leave my team."

"They want to kill me."  Freddy stepped forward and gripped the other man's arm.

"They're my family."  Deke hissed.  "Would you leave your family on a whim?"

Freddy gripped Dekes hand tightly.  "Please, Deke."

He sighed.  Then his head jerked up when he heard something.  A car.  A car with multiple police officers in it.

"Get down!"  Deke yelled and fired Freddys gun at the Chronicoms before ducking behind the wooden boxes.

By the end of the fight, Freddy was on his way to creating Hydra, Enoch was gone, and the rest of the team was in 1955.

- - -

"Deke, I gave you an order."  Daisy said over without looking up from the file she was reading.  "Why didn't you follow it?"

"It was murder."  He responded plainly, tossing aside his own file and picking a new one up.  "You ordered me to murder a guy who hadn't done anything wrong yet."

"It was a tough call, but--"

"I couldn't do it."  Deke cut her off.  His cheeks seemed to go slightly pink.

Daisy scoffed.  "Why not?  You never used to shy away from this kind of stuff."

"Daisy, he kissed me."  Deke looked at her and tossed the file down.  She froze and looked up.  He was definitely flustered, and he looked away as soon as she met his eyes.

"You're serious?"  Daisy lowered her voice to a whisper.  When his face just got more red, she laughed in disbelief.  "Oh, God, you're serious.  You made out with the father of the guy who sent your grandparents to a different planet."

"Don't mock me, I'm having a personal crisis!"  Deke hissed and glanced at the door to the lab.

"Does Mack know?"  Daisy leaned forward.  If possible, his face got even more flushed.  "I'm so sorry."  They went back to reading the files in silence.  Suddenly, Daisy spoke again; "So . . . if it was still 2019 and you met Freddy Malick, would you go out with him?"

"Daisy!"  Deke pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?"  She glanced up from her file.  He was glaring at her.  "That's not a no."

Deke groaned and tossed his file aside.  "This crisis kind of ongoing, so id you can stop making fun of me--"

"Wait, shut up."  Daisy picked up his discarded file and stared at the name.  "We can talk more about this later."

"What is it?"  Deke leaned over to see what he missed.

"Daniel Sousa."

This man turned out to be important, and they needed to help him.  So, Yo-Yo and Deke went out to retrieve a device for Coulson and Sousa.

After the only words exchanged through the otherwise silent car ride were the directions read from a map, Yo-Yo tried to start a conversation.  "You're quiet."  She pointed out.

Deke tried to play it off as not being an experienced driver, but she could tell he was lying.

"In the 30s, you drove fine."  She leveled him with a look.  "Is it what Daisy asked you to do?"

Deke sighed an closed his eyes for a second.  "A little."

Elena waited.  And waited.  "And?"

"Promise not to laugh."  Deke glanced out the window at the houses.  "Daisy laughed and now I just feel worse."

"I promise."  Elena glanced at the street map again.

Deke blew a long sigh out of his mouth.  "In the 30s, Freddy Malick kissed me."  He was met with stunned silence.

"Is that why you didn't shoot him?"  Elena asked after a minute.  Deke shook his head.

"Not the whole reason."  He glanced out the windows again.  "He was scared, asked me to go with him to start Hydra.  I couldn't shoot him."

Elena sighed and studied the map again.  "Is that why Mack is acting weird around you?  He caught you two?"  Deke nodded wordlessly.  "Wow.  If you need to . . . talk about it, or something, you can talk to me."

"Thanks."  Deke smiled slightly.  "How close are we?"

"We . . ." she dragged the word out.  "We just passed it."

They split up as soon as they entered the house, searching for whatever briefcase they were supposed to get.  Elena drew her gun and walked up the staircase, while Deke explored the ground level.

Deke was walking through one of the bathrooms when he heard a floorboard creak on the other side of the wall.  A man stepped into view, and Deke started backing away, searching his pockets for a weapon that wasn't there without taking his eyes off the person in front of him.  He should have been more worried about the man behind him.

There was a sharp pain on the back of his head, and Dekes world went sideways and dark.

He woke up to someone slapping him, and he gasped and sat up.  He had been lying across the back seat of a car.

"Rise and shine, big brain."  One of his assailants said.  Deke was seeing starts, and not just because it was night.

He was dragged out of the car and into a large house, to a fancy looking study with a man sitting behind a desk.  As soon as the door closed, Deke jerked his arm out of the grip of the men who kidnapped him.

"Here's your scientist, boss."  One of them said.  The man behind the desk was shrouded in darkness, so Deke couldn't make out his face.

He stood up and slowly made his way around the desk.  He stared at Deke for several seconds.  "Leave us," he said to the two men behind the guest, "I want to speak to him alone."

This man knew who Deke was, but Deke did not know him.  The two men left the room, and now Deke was alone with this stranger.

The man reached out his hand to touch Dekes face.  Deke took a step back.  He wouldn't flinch, no matter how creepy this got.  The man seemed slightly hurt.

"Deke."  He knew his name.  How did this man know his name?  "Take a seat."

"I'll stand, if that's alright with you."  Deke tried to sound confident, smoothing out his jacket.

"You look exactly the same."  The man chuckled.  When Deke didn't laugh along, he frowned.  "Do you remember me?"

"Can't say I do, no."  But Deke was getting a feeling in his gut that he knew the man in front of him.

"That's fine, it's been a long time."  The man unbuttoned his blazer.  "The name is Wilfred."

"Freddy . . ." It clicked immediately.  This was Hydra.

Freddy smiled.  He reached out, grabbed Dekes tie, and pulled him in.  Deke did not expect to meet Malick again, and he certainly didn't expect resuming whatever they started in that train car.

The kiss was just as it had been twenty years ago (two days for Deke), hot and short.  Deke had no idea what to do.  He had to get back to the Zypher, back to the team.  But Freddy had him by the back of his neck and was biting his bottom lip.

Freddy moved his hand up until his fingers were tangled in Dekes hair and worked to loosen his tie with the other hand.  Malick had a beard now, and way more confidence.  Deke tried to pull away, but Freddy just gripped his hair tighter and kissed harder.

Deke gasped from the pain on his scalp, and Freddy took that as an invitation to use tongue.

Dekes tie had been fully undone and tossed aside, and the top buttons on his shirt were next.  The encounter had become sufficiently uncomfortable, seeing as he was now more than twenty years younger than the other man.  Deke needed to get out before this went any further.  

Deke brought his hands up to Malicks chest and pushed.  "Freddy," he tried to say, "Freddy, stop."  Freddy did not stop, but he slowed down.  Deke could finally pull his head fully away.  "I can't be here."

Malick sighed and bowed his head, catching both Dekes wrists when he tried to pull his hand away.  If he felt Deke flinch, he didn't care, because he didn't let go.  "So, you're a S.H.I.E.L.D scientist now?"

"Something like that."  Deke said stiffly, trying to free his right hand.  

"I'm guessing Agent Sousa told you about his suspicions?"  Malick squeezed the other mans wrists tighter.  

Deke had never met Daniel Sousa, but he had to play along to get out of this alive.  "I guess this is it."  He blinked and looked around the room.  "Hydra?"

Malick hummed and brought Dekes right hand up to his mouth, kissing it softly.  "I can make a spot for you.  It's not to late."  When he got no answer, he continued.  "You saved my life twenty-four years ago.  I want to repay you."

"Not like this, Freddy."  Deke whispered.  "How did your life get here?"

Malick finally let of him.  "You do what you gotta do."

Deke remembered those words vividly, it felt like he said those words years ago, and not just days.  "I can't be a part of this."  He said.  "My team--"

Malick scoffed and started rummaging around his desk.  "The same team that ordered you to kill me?"

"That was just one persons order."  Deke knew what he was about to say was completely stupid, but he said it anyway.  "Maybe . . . maybe she knew what you would go on to do."

A gun clicked.  The revolver looked so much like the one Malick pointed at Mack and Deke on that train.  Deke threw his hands out in front of him, he didn't know what for, though.  The gesture was useless.

"You're a smart guy.  Start making smart decisions."  Malicks voice didn't shake, and neither did his hand, not anymore.  "I offered you multiple chances to join me.  And you turned down every single one."

"Freddy, please," Deke kept his voice as steady as possible, "put that down."  Malick pulled back the hammer.  "What happened to wanting to repay me?"

Malick thought on that.  Slowly, he lowered the gun.  "Fine.  Get out."  Deke let a relieved smile cross his face, before turning to the door to the study and fumbling with the handle.  "One thing before you go."  Deke froze.  "If I ever see you again, I won't be so generous."

Deke nodded slowly and opened the door.  

- - -

Back on the Zypher, Deke was sitting in the lab by himself, rubbing his head where he had been hit.  He groaned softly when he touched the wrong spot and his head throbbed with pain again.

Soft footsteps made their way into the dimmed lab.  "Do you think you have a concussion?"  

Deke squinted up at Yo-Yo and shrugged.  "Maybe.  He hit me pretty hard."

Elena walked over so she was sitting next to him.  She placed a hat on his knee.  "You left this behind."

Deke smiled slightly and picked it up.  "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a minute, then,  "You okay?"

Deke nodded and winced again.  "Yeah, I think so."

"So, Malick again?"  Elena crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah."  Deke sighed.  "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Your tie is crooked and your hair is messy."  She pointed out.  "What happened in there?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it."  Deke tried to smooth out his hair but flinched.  From the pain of the wound or the memory of Malick, he didn't know.

"Deke, did you and him--?"

"I didn't want to!"  Deke said suddenly, refusing to look at her.  "But he . . . he wouldn't stop."

Elena stared in shock.  "He forced himself on you?"

It took a moment, but Deke nodded.  "It didn't go that far, but," he sighed, "it was really uncomfortable."

Elena hesitantly brought her hand up and placed it on his.  "I'm sorry."  She said quietly.  "That's messed up."

"At least he let me go."  Deke rubbed his eyes.  "He said he wouldn't be so generous next time he sees me."

"That's still not okay."  Elena frowned.  "You're lucky he didn't kill you."  

Deke held his right wrist in his left hand, as if protecting himself.  "It felt so . . . wrong."  He whispered.  "He wouldn't let go of me, and he grabbed right where my metric was."

Elena looked down at where hers would have been, but there was no scar.  Those arms were long gone.  Instead, she wrapped her new arms around Deke, her friend.  They hadn't been close before, but she was willing to change that.

"You'll be okay."  She told him.  "What's that thing Jemma always says?"

Deke huffed out a laugh and returned the hug the best he could in their awkward position.  "The steps you take don't have to be big, they just have to take you in the right direction."

[losingmymindtonight]

WARNINGS: Peter jokes about dying a lot in this. It’s just Gen Z humor, but if that’s likely to trigger you, please be careful!

--

On days like this, the cabin was a haven, a lighthouse, a McDonald’s sign shining through midnight darkness.

(Okay, maybe his last metaphor wasn’t as romantic as the others, but it was still true. Midnight hash browns were the best hash browns. Fight him.)

Peter thought he was a pretty chill person. Hell, he was known for a being a chill person. Go to Peter, people said. He’s just so chill, people said. You could punch him in the face and he’ll apologize, people said.

(Okay, maybe nobody actually said that about him, because nobody besides, like, a handful of people actually cared about his existence, but if they did, that’s probably be what they’d say.)

But, sometimes, he just got frustrated. Like, kinda-wanted-to-find-some-abandoned-hunting-lodge-in-the-middle-of-a-forest-somewhere-and-tear-it-to-pieces-with-his-bare-hands frustrated. 

(Okay, maybe not a whole hunting lodge. Maybe, like, a cabin. Or a half-molded shed. The point was: he wanted to annihilate something. The more satisfying the thing was to destroy, the better.)

He’d admitted it rather shamefully to Tony in the lab, once, and the man had laughed so hard that Peter had genuinely thought he was going to hyperventilate.

“Jesus, Pete, you are not actually feeling bad for occasionally, just occasionally, being frustrated, are you? Because if you are, I’m selling you for a less faulty kid.”

As it turned out, Tony was probably gonna have to sell him, because the guilt never, ever abated. See, Peter wasn’t supposed to get frustrated. That wasn’t his purpose. He was a fixer. Fixers were patient, wise, and they certainly didn’t get frustrated. They didn’t get angry. Those emotions were not things that fixers felt.

Maybe he was faulty. Maybe Tony should sell him.

He was always a mess when he was pissed, and he always blamed it on inexperience with functioning when he was focusing so much energy on not punching the nearest object. He tripped getting out of his car, locked his backpack inside and ended up fumbling angrily with the trunk before finally, finally getting it open. When he got to the door, he missed the lock the first time and then it took him four tries to get the damn thing open.

(He nearly cried at that point. Which, was, you know, not his proudest moment.)

Tony was reading on the couch when he came stomping in, although the book was quickly discarded. Peter just threw himself face-first onto the unoccupied loveseat, groaning for a solid fifteen seconds before Tony’s amused voice interrupted him.

“You alright there, kiddo?”

“I’m gonna kill someone,” he said, monotone despite the lava in him, “and then I’m gonna kill myself, and then I’m gonna... well, I don’t actually know who’s gonna die after that bit, but the killing’s not ending there, I can tell you that.”

Tony whistled. “Wow, Pete. Resorting to a murder-suicide before dinner? That’s drastic, even for me. Must’ve been one hell of a day.”

He couldn’t stop the snort that jumped up his throat. God, he hated being so cynical. It really didn’t come all that naturally to him. It felt like wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit.

“You have literally no idea.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

Poor Tony. He was the one who always had to listen to him complain. He barely did it with his friends, certainly never did it with May. Like he’d said before, that wasn’t his purpose, wasn’t his role in those dynamics.

But here? In the cabin, carefully cocooned in the safe-space of Tony’s world? Yeah, he could be a little whiny.

Still, though: poor Tony.

“I hate people,” he rambled. “I hate the world. I hate myself. I even hate the sky. Can I hate the sky? Is that, like, a thing I can do? You know what, don’t answer that, cause I do, so it’s a thing I’ve done either way.”

“Mm,” Tony replied, and Peter could hear the leather on the couch creak as he shifted his weight. “I have a proposition.”

“Does the proposition include me dying?”

“Uh, absolutely not. Haven’t we been over this? No dying, not allowed. You dying is off limits.”

“Tragic.”

“Shut up. Besides, my proposition is much better than dying.”

Peter turned his head, and used the one eye not smothered by the loveseat’s cushion to squint over at Tony. “What’s your proposition?”

“Scream.”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Just scream. Loud as you can. We’re the only ones in the house, by the way, so you won’t worry anyone. Pep’s with Morgan at her dance class.”

“You want me to scream?”

“It’s therapeutic.”

“It’s weird.”

“No, it’s therapeutic,” Tony shot back, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, kid. I dare you.”

“No, no, don’t make this a dare-”

Tony was grinning, obviously beyond proud of himself. “I bet you won’t do it.”

“Mister Stark-”

“Who knew that Spider-Man was scared of a little screaming, huh?”

“I’m not scared-”

“You seem a little scared.”

“I’m not-”

“You sure? Cause I’m starting to wonder if I need to-”

Peter buried his face into the cushion, and screamed.

He paused. Gasped in a breath that smelled like hot sweat and damp leather. Screamed again.

There were a few seconds of silence after he’d finished. Then,

“You done?”

He rolled onto his back, giving Tony his full attention. The man had his legs propped up on the coffee table, arms folded behind his head: the picture of relaxation. Definitely not how you’d expect someone to look if they’d just had a sixteen-year-old kid screaming their head off in their living room.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m done.”

“Feel better?”

“A little,” he admitted, and it was true. The frustration was still there, lingering like a pit in his chest, but he knew it’d probably stick around until the next day, anyway, so any relief was, well, a relief.

Mostly, he was just feeling guilty for feeling those things in the first place.

“You’re allowed to be pissed off sometimes, y’know,” Tony said, studying his face. One day, Peter was determined to uncover how it was that his mentor always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking before he’d even finished thinking it. “It’s called being human. Even freakishly precious kids like yourself aren’t immune to that particular tragedy.”

“I don’t like it, though.”

Tony laughed. “I know. Seriously though, Pete, you’re a good kid. Give yourself some leeway. Not everyone can be cheerful all the time.”

Peter sighed, shoving a cushion off the loveseat just because he could. “But if I’m not cheerful, who’s gonna be?”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe jolly old Saint Nicholas?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Anyway, who gives a shit? Everybody’s supposed to get their day in the sun, but that means that you’re allowed a day in the darkness, too.” He shuddered. “God, look what you’ve done to me. I just got poetic.”

Despite the resentment still brewing him his gut, he couldn’t resist Tony’s prodding. “It was good, Mister Stark. Like, really good. Like, Shakespeare who? Sorry, I don’t know him.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

“Hey, I’ve had a bad day.”

“Are you gonna sing a sad song just to turn it around?”

“Daniel Powter.”

Tony stared at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language. “Excuse you?”

“Daniel Powter,” Peter repeated. “He’s the guy who did that song, Bad Day.”

“Well, thank god I know that now,” Tony said, reaching out for the remote and turning on the TV. “Now, I say we drown our sorrows in awful television and pizza for dinner. Thoughts? Comments? Objections?”

The cabin: haven, lighthouse, midnight McDonald’s. All things that called out to people in the dark. “Sounds good to me.”

It looked like they were going to move on, that the previous moment had passed, but then Tony stalled, face growing serious again. “Actually, one last thing before I let you change the subject for good.” Tony pointed at him with the remote. “Remember this: you’re allowed to clean up your own messes before you clean up everybody else’s, and you’re not responsible for other people.”

“I feel responsible for other people,” Peter muttered.

“Yeah, well, you’re delusional.” Tony turned back to the screen. “Now: Family Feud or Kitchen Nightmares?”

“Star Wars!” Peter exclaimed, just to lighten the mood, and to see Tony’s face.

Sure enough, the fond-annoyance blossomed within a second.

“No-”

[peeterparkr]

clear|17|t.h.

Chapter 17: The Carnival.

pairing: surfer!tom x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blink and you’ll miss angst, fluff, swearing, almost smut

summary: tom is a dumbass, in a good way

series masterlist playlist previous chapter next chapter

a/n: hi, thanks for reading this, this goes for the -6 people who still put up with my shit, thank you, and please please for the love of god please comment and reblog haha i NEED to know what you guys think, i loved writing this chapter, hope you like it as much as i did

Tom was dying. But everyone is, really. The thing is nobody really thinks about it, because we see it too far away, we see it as something that we will have to deal with later. It’s inevitable, simply inevitable. But what happens when you realize that it’s a problem you might have to face tomorrow morning? 

She had seen him taking all of the pills the morning before, all the medicine. She wondered how many of those he had taken. She thought of the colours. Blue, grey, white. As if life was playing a trick on them. 

And y/n was now thinking about it. Tom was alive, right now, but was he? Was he truly alive? 

His life, she realized, had become a routine in a way that he was used to seeing people realizing it. How people seem to change from the fact they know that sure, he’s not going to live forever, but to when they really acknowledge it, when it hits them. To the point where they think that sure, they might not see him the very next day. She knew he was only waiting for that moment, honestly. If he were to arrive at the lighthouse, he wouldn’t even be mad. He had known about it, it was just a matter of time. Because he had seen it with everyone, with his mother, his father, his brothers, with Haz, with Lex, heck, even Jared had shown it. Everyone hits that low point sooner or later. 

She had her arms crossed as she watched the sun going down, ignoring her phone ringing in her car. 

Y/N needed this time by herself which truly, everyone does, at some point. But was she too crazy? Was she really that crazy for wanting so much more than summer? 

She was. Undeniably crazy and selfish. 

But there was some sort of comfort of it all. She was at the beach, she was away from her life, already. And maybe she could change it, she could transform it into that. Maybe her dreams weren’t just as big as she thought they would be. 

Being in love was already part of her dream. 

But she needed to mourn it. 

Because just the days before she had seen it, she pictured herself moving to the cabin near the beach where she could paint the sunset, letting her skin be kissed by both the sunlight and Tom’s lips. And that dream didn’t sound too far away, but it was certainly impossible. How wicked of her to even dare to think about a future when she should be instead of enjoying the present? 

The waves were coming for her, and the stars were illuminating her. She took a deep breath as she took in the view, what a beautiful night she was ignoring. The stars, the moon, the water. She picked up a stick and made her way to the waves. 

With tears in her eyes, she drew him on the sand. 

She then thought about it,  she wasn’t giving up, not yet. Even if there was not much to give, even if there was nothing to give up on yet.

The ocean washed him away from it. And that just didn’t help. But the ocean gave her an idea. She realized that the ocean would be there for her because it reminded her of him. There was something in the future because it eventually would come back. The ocean would drag her back to it, and maybe she didn’t have the power to heal him, but she had the power to keep him. She had the power to not cry, she had the power to look at the beautiful night. 

And running away from him wouldn’t make any sense, she didn’t have to fall back without looking at what she really needed. And it was him. After everything, it was him. 

Yes, Tom was dying. But so would her hope if she didn’t live with him. She had made that mistake before, looking forward so much that eventually, she fell backwards. 

Start again. She had a second chance, but only if she took it. She had to hold on to it and forget it. Because maybe there was no medicine that could heal him, but he was the exact medicine that could bring her back to her life. 

Because she knew it, he still was the same person that she met without knowing about it. He was still that guy with the beautiful smile, with the white t-shirt and with the amazing sense of humour. He was still a surfer. Tom was still a guy. 

Blue, grey, white. 

And he could fade away, like when her colours had faded away, or he could be erased by the water just like when she drew him. And she loved him, even after all the medicine. And she knew that if she didn’t say it now there would be no time to say it anymore. There was no point in crying. There truly was no point. 

And sure, she had to wait for it. It was just a matter of time. But there was no point in crying now, the tears wouldn’t make him live longer. But she had the power to make him feel alive. Because they had no time. 

She ran back to her blue jeep, her phone rang again. It was from Tom. 

“Y/N hey- everything okay? Why weren’t you answering?” 

“I love you,” she said unpromptly. She didn’t have time to explain it. She didn't even need him to answer back. Because, they had said they were in love, but they’d never said they loved each other. Maybe she had mentioned it, but never really blurted it out. She thought about the pills, blue, grey, white. 

He stayed quiet but she knew he was probably blushing. “Wha-what?” 

“I love you.” 

He remained quiet again. “Where are you?” He pushed. She didn’t care if he wasn’t answering. “Are you okay?”

“Better than ever,” she said as she wiped a tear-off. 

He took a deep breath. 

“Where are you?” 

“Somewhere.” 

“Y/N--” 

“The lighthouse.” She clicked her tongue. 

“The… The lighthouse?” He asked. 

“I know you wanted to bring me here,” she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I ruined the surprise.” 

“Didn’t expect any less. I’ll---see you in a bit.” 

She sighed. 

He hung up. She wondered if she had done it wrong. But she didn’t care, she needed to say it. She had said before but it wasn’t the same. She didn't know whether to leave and look for him or stay. 

She decided to stay, she’d wait for him, he said he was going to see her. Because whatever that was about to happen, she still had time to look back. How it had been full of laughs, how she had been trying to deny it since day one. How she had said that she only liked him. That no, she wasn’t in love with him. But that she couldn’t deny that she liked him. That she wanted to walk along the beach with him, holding his hand and looking up for crabs and shells.  That she wanted to go biking with him, racing to the abandoned house so then they could swing together. That she wanted to lay down in the sand and count the stars together.

And how it had all come to it. To how her dreams had come true, they walked along the beach, they had gone biking, and they had laid down on the sand to count the stars. And that she couldn’t deny it anymore, she loved him. 

How simple her dreaming had been. How it had all started with ice cream that led to a guy with a bag of seashells, to a guy swinging her, to a guy with a very lame attempt to make her fall in love, with a boombox, with a dance and with him serenading her.  

It was all a first kiss, the first feeling, it was just a guy who was meant to fall in love with a girl. It was, after all, a great summer romance that happened all too quickly. She recalled every single moment, from the terrible singing to the late nights watching him surf. How the water would fall from his hair and into his face. She remembered how gently he would trace the notes on the guitar. Everything. A smile was drawn back on her face. 

Eventually, she heard a knock on her window, and then she was reminded of the day that she had realized that there was something about him. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of old blue jeans. Like that day her Jeep had stopped working. How unpleasant it had been to see him, yet now it was all she wanted to see. 

He had a smirk on his face, a tired one. 

Y/n just rolled down the window. “Yes?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

She smiled. “What?” 

“Get out,” he chuckled, as he stepped back watching her as she got down. “Okay, what’s all this about?” Tom sighed, closing the door. “Why have you been crying?” 

“How did you-?” 

Tom raised his eyebrow. “I’ve met you enough this summer. Why have you been crying?” 

She looked down. “Stuff.” 

Tom approached her, making her stumble until she was leaning against the car. “Y/N?”

 “It’s nothing, really,” she said. “But you can kiss me until I’m not sad anymore.” 

He chuckled, as he approached her even more. “Okay, so,” Tom placed his hands on her waist. “Have I told you you’re the most unexpected person I’ve ever met?” 

“You’ve mentioned it, yeah,” she admitted as she was looking into his eyes. He cupped her face with a hand as he kept looking down at her. 

He pecked her lips softly. “You’re such a hopeless romantic,” he continued, as he placed kisses all over her face and neck. “You probably know  every single romantic movie that’s ever been released.” 

“And books, too,” she blushed, closing her eyes at his touch. He kept pecking her all over her neck but ended up on her lips again. 

“You literally asked me to do something,” he looked up at her, as he pushed his hair back. “What did you call it?” 

“Extraordinary?” She chuckled. 

“Extraordinary,” he licked his lips, “only to get you to think  about going out with me.” 

She chuckled as she tried to lean over again to his addicting lips, but he pulled away. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve been trying to catch up with you, you know?” he admitted. “I danced with you under the moonlight,” he started, “I even did the whole prelude to a kiss, how horrible that is,” he continued with a sigh. “I looked for a boombox, I danced in the middle of the street to ‘Can’t take my eyes off of you’.” 

She grinned, blushing. 

“You’ve made a fool out of me,” He kissed her again. 

She stared at him. This was how they were supposed to be, all summer. Not worrying about anything else, not crying. This. Just making out. 

“You were one before meeting me, Tom.” She couldn’t stop blushing. 

He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. “And I thought, oh, I should take her to the lighthouse, you know? It’s a romantic place, it might live up to her fantasy romantic life,” he continued. “She’ll like it there, maybe I’ll plan a picnic.” 

She cupped his face and kissed him. “I’m sorry.” 

He grinned. “And yet, you’re here, all alone, ruining the surprise to yourself, because why not, right?” 

She kissed his cheek, and got out of his grip, laughing. “I’m sorry! I--” 

“Oh, I’m not done, love,” he took her by the hand and pulled her back to his grip. 

“What?” She looked at him. 

“Not only did you ruin your surprise, but,” he had to take a deep breath and look up. “But I come here and find you crying.” 

She looked down. “Yeah, uh-” 

“And I think I know why.” He lifted her chin and she melted. The way he was staring into her eyes. The way that he was just incredible. His eyes, which for the first time didn’t look tired, were only there for her as if the actual masterpiece that the ocean with the stars were putting up for them wasn’t just as good as she was, as if it wasn’t even half as beautiful. He looked happy, and he looked soft. Sure, maybe his skin looked pale, and his lips were still dry, but he was just him, with the curls falling on his forehead and his freckles popping out, and with the wrinkles by his eyes just stretching each time he smiled. She didn’t want to ruin this moment, she didn’t want to get back to crying. Not bring up the elephant in the room. She wanted him to feel normal, she wanted to be normal. She wanted to enjoy this moment for what it truly was, not for what she had been suffering just minutes ago. Because she needed to make something beautiful out of it. 

“Let’s not-” She tried to shut him up but he had that idea first, his lips were back on hers as his hands were trying to choose between her waist, her face or her whole body, he just had to pull her closer and closer, as his lips were just trying to figure out her taste, trying to memorize it. Needless to say, y/n had given in, he had transported her into another world. He pushed her again to the car, as she couldn’t get enough of him. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. But whatever was going on, she was loving it. 

She cleared her throat, unsure of why she was feeling so embarrassed as soon as they pulled away, their hair messy and their lips were swollen. 

“So, you’re so romantic, right?” he insisted and talked as if nothing had happened. 

“Right,” she frowned.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yet-” He had to stop and he finally let her go, she missed his touch. He threw his arms in the air, as he burst out with laughter.

“What?” she was feeling slightly confused. 

He rubbed his face. “You’re the girl who’s been reading romance novels all summer.” 

“Yes.” 

“Your favourite movie moments,” He chuckled as he shook his head. “I can’t believe you.” 

“What?” 

“Your favourite movie moments are too epic, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have these-- dances, and risks, and just out of the box moments, a boombox, a guy just singing on a stadium, and a guy just--risking his life for this girl.”

Y/n blushed looking away. “Yes, alright, roast me! I’m a hopeless romantic!” 

“Yet-” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you, y/n.” He started to walk in circles. “You see where I’m going with this, right?” 

She shook her head. “I actually..don’t?” 

“You ruined a perfect surprise,” he closed his eyes, laughing again. 

“I already said I’m sorry!” 

“And--” He lifted his finger. “I can’t believe this.” 

Y/N bit her lip. 

He walked over to her and cupped her face. “Y/N I need you to understand me.” 

Y/N frowned. “This isn’t funny anymore.” 

“Y/N, you, the most cliché girl I’ve ever met,” he grinned. “You, out of everyone I know, I never expected you to do this.” 

Y/N crossed her arms. “What?” 

“Y/N, you said ‘I love you’ for the first time over the phone.” And the biggest smile appeared on his face, so pleased to hear what he was saying. 

“It’s not--” She gulped. “Not the first time.” 

“You’ve used the word, but you’ve never-” It was Tom’s turn to blush now. He seemed so happy. “I just, I just think it’s fantastic.” 

She blushed and joined him in his laughter, closing her eyes and rubbing her face. It did sound so out of character for her. Y/N realized it. She remembered something else, how Tom turns everything into gold. And that’s what he was doing right now. The Tom from the beginning of the summer was back. 

“Well,” she covered her face. “I just… I just felt like saying  them, alright?” She bit her lip. Blue, grey, white. She didn’t have to explain the entire thinking process she had gone through. He didn’t need to know that she had been so sad before. She didn’t need to explain that she had barely any time to say it, because she didn’t want him to get sad. Because of the light, he was showing so much light right now, it was just surprisingly incredible. He was just like the waves he liked to surf, big and deep, and beautiful.

He grinned. “I won’t--Ah, oh, y/n.” 

She chuckled. “I’m sorry,.” 

“Don’t--don’t apologize, but I just—okay, wow. ” 

There was something she had noticed. He didn’t say it back. Of course, she didn’t expect him to, but it was just something that kept coming to her mind. 

She cleared her throat. Maybe it had been stupid. 

“I didn’t mean to say that, sorry, I was being emotional,” she lied. “I don’t actually feel-uh. I was-I didn’t mean saying it.” 

“You didn’t—“ Tom frowned. 

“No, it’s too soon, right?” She coughed. “So,” she tried to get herself back on whatever track she was trying to get on. “So, uh, let’s go to the party.” 

Tom frowned. “No, not yet.” 

She frowned. “What?” 

“I’ll… race you to the Carnival, alright?” 

“The carnival.” 

“Yeah, they won’t miss us at the party, we’ll catch up later, we still have time,” he assured her. She just quietly watched him. 

“The carnival,” she repeated. 

Tom grinned. “Yeah.” 

She had literally told him she loved him and the surfer wanted to go to the carnival. He had to be kidding her. 

But she didn’t complain, because then again, there were a lot of surprises Tom would pull. She didn't have time to even argue. 

“I’ll see you there,” she said as she hopped back into her jeep. 

He leaned from the window to kiss her, again. 

“See you there.” 

Blue, grey, white. She was not understanding just one bit of what was happening. But she followed him all the way to the Carnival just letting the confusion grow wider. 

She didn't even put music on. She needed to concentrate? Because how in this world could she explain to herself the variety of emotions she had gone through the day. But she was sure of something, he just made everything better. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t care that he didn’t love her back. That was alright, sure it was too soon. Had it been too soon for her, as well? 

But it couldn’t because love doesn’t mean the amount of time spent with someone, love means how everything is timeless with that someone. And in this case, love meant how little time they had left. 

She didn’t want to think about that. So she started to think about his lips, the passion which he had kissed her with. Had it been a way to apologize that he didn’t feel it yet? Maybe all the medicine had taken away all of his ability to love. 

Blue, grey, white. That had been the order. 

But she didn’t want to think about that now. 

She arrived at the carnival and parked beside him. He greeted her yet with another kiss, his lips so hungry for her. 

Something was definitely up. Figuring out what was the problem. 

“We’re here,” she said condescendingly after he pulled away. 

He chuckled. “You don’t seem excited.” 

She sighed and gave him a cheeky fake smile. “Sorry, it’s just kinda loud.” 

Tom shrugged. “I guess.” 

It hadn’t changed from the beginning of the summer, there were still a lot of stands, people selling clothes, food, girls taking pictures, guys drinking, and a lot of children yelling. It was still a mess, and y/n, was still not a fan of it. But it brought her back some new memories, like the day she met Tom. 

“Let’s go for ice cream,” Tom suggested, taking her by the hand. She smiled. He was definitely trying to make it up to her for not saying it back. It was alright, y/n guessed. 

While ordering it, Tom joked about smearing it all over her clothes again. She smashed some ice cream into his mouth.

“That was not necessary,” he snickered as he closed his eyes, “now you’ll have to take it away yourself I guess.” 

And she did, she kissed away all the ice cream just before kissing him again. He laughed.

“Let’s go to the Ferris Wheel,” he suggested. 

She didn’t complain. 

“Like our first date,” she remembered. 

“Did that one count?” He frowned. “We weren’t really...I mean.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrows and nodded in agreement. “I didn’t like you.” 

“I did like you,” Tom dug his hands into his pockets. “Wish we could have an anti-date again, so we can behave however we want again.” 

“I am behaving the way I want,” she wrinkled her nose, “how in this world do you want to behave?” 

Tom shrugged laughing. “Dunno.” 

It was their turn to get to the Ferris Wheel, y/n climbed in first and made room for Tom, who, instead of climbing in, closed the cart door. 

“What are you doing?” She asked but she was already mid-air. “Thomas!” 

He laughed and waved goodbye to her. She furiously yelled something at him but then crossed her arms as she decided to forget about it, she was already on it anyway. She might as well enjoy it. 

Except, she couldn’t, she stared down at him but didn’t see him anyway.  She leaned back, tapping her foot anxiously. Maybe that was his way of telling her that it had been too soon, by leaving her alone in that damned Ferris Wheel. 

Blue, grey, white. 

The Ferris Wheel stopped, and y/n blinked looking around, someone probably was getting in. She looked around at the beautiful scenery she was faced with, too bad she was enjoying it alone.  Then, the screams began. Little did she expect to see what she was seeing. She saw Tom, climbing up the Ferris Wheel trying to reach for her. He was bloody climbing the bloody Ferris Wheel. He was climbing it from the outside, being careful enough to reach her almost at the top. 

She joined the screaming. 

“Thomas! What are you doing?” She yelled at him. 

“Get back down, dude!” The guy controlling the Ferris wheel said. 

“I already paid you, no worries!” Tom assured him. 

“You’re not freaking Spiderman” Someone from the crowd yelled. 

“Tom!” Y/N yelled again, covering her eyes. 

He reached her. “Hi,” he said casually as he was swinging right in front of her. The Ferris Wheel wasn’t that big but it sure as hell wasn’t any safe at all to do that. 

She covered her eyes, again. “Tom what—get in—“ she screamed again. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Some people started booing, too. 

“Y/N, look me in the eyes, my hands are getting sweaty,” he said. She opened them up. 

“What in this world do you think you’re doing?” She asked him, fearing for him. “This is not the notebook or some shit-” 

“Do you love me?” He asked her. 

“Tom, get in here!”

“Do you love me?”

“Get back down here! I’m calling the police!” The guy controlling it threatened. 

“Answer fast, y/n, this is getting ugly,” Tom continued. “Do you love me?” 

“Answer him! Man, what are you doing? Are you mental?” Someone in another cart yelled at them. 

“I am!” Tom laughed. “I’m crazy about this woman.” 

“You’re an asshole that’s what you are,” the guy yelled. 

Tom grinned. “Do you love me?” 

“What? What?” Y/N shook her head following her eyes.

“Y/N I love you!” He sang. 

“You’re mental, Thomas get in here!” She ordered, between her screaming. 

“Do you love me?” He insisted. 

“I do! Now what the fuck is all of this? Get bloody in here!” 

“You do what?” He insisted. 

“I—what?” She was so flustered. “I love you! Okay? What the fuck—Tom!” 

“I can’t hear you, love!” 

I love you!” She yelled. “I LOVE YOU!” 

“You love me?” He asked again, now letting a hand loose. 

“Thomas!” She yelled at him. 

The people started screaming, some other people were filming him. 

“You love me?” He pushed, chuckling. 

“Yes! I already told you, Tom! What the hell? I love you! I love you! I love you!”  

He chuckled as he finally swung into her cart. She was shaking and he was bursting out in laughter. 

“You’re an idiot!” She yelled as she pushed him away. She covered her face again as the Ferris Wheel started moving again. 

“You love me,” he chuckled, pulling her close. “Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m fine.” 

She looked at him and pushed him away again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He grinned as he cupped her cheek. “Probably everything.” 

“You could’ve died!” 

“But that’s more like you, you know?” He said leaning over to her, she was pushing out of his way, slapping away his hands. “Y/N, hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he was still laughing, taking her hands in his as he tried to calm her down with a grin. 

“I hate you,” she stated looking into his eyes. 

“No, you love me,” he smirked. “And hell, so do I because I wouldn’t have done that very stupid thing if I didn’t love you as much as I do.” 

She pouted as she felt her heart beating even faster. She was shaking too much, but now she didn’t know if the reason was that she witnessed her stupid boyfriend risking her life or if it was the fact that her same stupid boyfriend had told her he loved her, too. 

“What was that?” She asked him. 

He chuckled. “I realized that I tried two out of three of your favourite scenes,” he explained. “And okay, I’m sorry but knowing you I was kind of disappointed that you said ‘I love you’ over the phone, after all the amazing stuff we’ve been through? You chose the most vanilla and unexciting way to say it.” 

She was so offended. “Oh, I’m sorry that I just blurted out my feelings that way without risking my fucking life.” 

“Well, so you did mean it,” he smirked. 

“Yes, I didn’t have to climb a bloody Ferris wheel to say it!” She frowned. 

Tom grinned as he wrapped an arm around her. “Well, I did, I had to be that extra only to say I love you.” 

“You love me?” She whispered. 

Tom laughed. “You really think I would’ve climbed a bloody Ferris Wheel if I didn’t love you?” 

“Well, you’re dumb,” she stated. 

“I am whatever you want me to be.” 

He pulled her closer and smashed his lips against hers, his hands running through her hair. He couldn’t stop smiling as they both tried to take control of the situation, Tom being soft and Y/N angrily kissing him because she couldn’t stand him at that moment, but god did they boy make her feel everything. 

They suddenly forgot they were at the Ferris Wheel, as she had climbed to his lap to get comfortable while kissing him. They didn’t even notice they had stopped and that people were watching them.  They were back on the ground now. 

The guy cleared his throat and he was accompanied by a security guy. 

The steamy couple had to pull away, and uncomfortably look at them. 

“Hi officer,” Tom greeted them, as y/n got off his lap. 

“Care to explain your little manoeuvre over there?” He asked him. 

Tom chuckled. “Uh, you see that’s-that’s a funny story,” he said, standing up.  He motioned for y/n to stand up. 

“Really? I want to hear it,” the officer said. 

Tom gulped. “Well, uh--you see,” he chuckled, taking y/n’s by the hand. She knew what he was about to do. “We are dating.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.” 

“It does because we were uh,” Tom gulped. He looked at her and she nodded. “About to leave, bye!” 

And they sprinted the hell out of the place, laughing and screaming as both men were trying to follow them, but the adrenaline that was pushing the couple made them go way faster. 

“Come back here!” The officer ordered. 

Y/N and Tom ran through the stands, through the rides and through all the people, and eventually, they ran to the parking lot, losing them through the clouds. They had to stop there so they could both catch their breath. 

Tom coughed as he closed his eyes as they hid behind y/n’s blue jeep. 

“Wow--okay, that was--fun,” she grinned but then as Tom kept coughing. She scowled as she patted his back. “You’re-you’re okay?” 

He looked up at her as he took another deep breath. “Yeah, yeah.” 

She bit her lip, unsure of what they were supposed to do. He gave her a reassuring smile as his fingers pushed away the hair from her face. 

“I’m okay,” he kissed her temple, gently. 

“You’re an idiot,” she grinned. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.” 

He connected his lips with hers, hungry for her, as his lips traced around her lips and her neck, and as his hands were colouring her again. 

“I love you,” he’d repeat over and over as his lips were still glued to her, placing wet kisses on her and as his hands were going from her back to her legs, resting on her ass. 

“Tom,” she gently moaned his name, as he kissed her hungrily, slowly biting her neck. “We have a party to get to,” but he didn’t stop, he just continued to press his body against her. 

“This is a public space,” she reminded him. “People could see us.” 

He stopped as he smirked. “I want you.” 

And there was a look in his eyes that she had never seen before, so gentle but so rough at the same time. And she agreed with him, she wanted him too. But it was too risky, and she guessed that’s what made it even more interesting. 

He kissed her roughly again as he slammed her into the blue jeep again, he took him by her thighs as she wrapped herself around him The friction from their moving was making her all flustered, but he kept making his path, from her lips to her neck to her sweet spot on her collarbone. 

“Tom, this is not-” She couldn’t keep talking. But suddenly an idea popped into her mind. “Wait, wait, wait,” she was panting already. 

“What?” He had to stop to look up at her. She dug into her purse and took out her car keys. The party could wait. 

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[mojoflower]

Teen Wolf mpreg fic recs (99% Sterek, 1% Steter)

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus 22 E, 136k, Complete.  “We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“  //  “Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.  //  “He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.  //  Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, but Stiles is a BAMF, BAMF Stiles, presumably Actual Derek is also a bamf, but College Derek is pretty useless, Heh heh

Wow, this story just grabbed me and didn't let me go and now it's the end of a full day and I have no excuse for abandoning everything except that I was really involved and enjoying the plot.  //  Stiles is such a fucking badass, I love this, he's super-smart and strategizes and handles everything that comes up like a pro and it's totally easy to see why they have such a large and powerful pack. 'College Derek', meanwhile, is a complete sexist asshole (with the whole Alpha/omega thing) who says some super hurtful things in the first half out of sheer ignorance mostly -- although occasionally it's spite. Stiles handles it as well as he can, trying to hide that it hurts and striking back because he has backbone for god's sake... but his bondmark is slowly fading and that's terrifying and tragic.  //  Meanwhile, the Silva pack is due to arrive with some manifest bad intentions, and Peter is lurking around stirring up trouble, and it's a really fucking bad time for Derek to not remember who he is, because it makes their pack vulnerable.  //  Great story.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54 E, 75k, Complete.  On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.  //  But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Bottom Stiles, Like Whoa,  

 Whoa, that was an intense climax, I'm kinda breathless. Great story. Stiles is earnest and funny (and sooo hot for the giant, hairy, handsome man -- when author says size difference they are not messing around and it's mentioned frequently) and Derek is monosyllabic and awkward. They figure it out eventually, and there is hot sex (did I say size difference and hirsuteness?). Laura's a great werewolf-sister (Derek is the only werewolf) and her son Seth is a cutie. The cast of characters (Chris, Jordon, Finstock, Angus, Gladys and the two First People Miriam and Jonah) are interesting and fleshed-out. Love the plot, and the take on Derek's werewolf (not Teen Wolf style), love the First People lore and rituals, love the setting waaay up in Alaska on this tiny island.  //  (Don't let Major Character Death tag scare you, you're gonna be just fine.)

Hey Lover, I Got a Sugarcane by pibroch (littleblackdog) Steter, E, 17k, Complete.  [References to Mpreg rather than straight-up #mpreg]  “Put Peter on the phone,” Stiles says, too sharp to be polite.  //  “What?” Derek sounds completely thrown. “Stiles, I don’t think— Okay, you’re obviously not understanding what’s happening here. Peter isn’t talking. He’s basically just growling at this point, and he’s rounding on anyone that gets too close. He actually bit me when I tried to take back my pillow. I nearly lost a thumb.”  //  “Derek.” The reality of this shitshow of a situation is finally kicking in, undeniably, and Stiles needs to hear Peter’s voice. “Just trust the omega, okay? Tell him it’s me, and give him the damn phone.”  //  ---"Wrangling Rut-Drunk Alpha Boyfriends 101" by Stiles Stilinski, omega and responsible adult person.

I've loved other things I've read by this author

Delicious. And also funny.

I've Got A Sure Thing by skoosiepants  T, 11k, Complete.  Stiles's water breaks ten miles outside of Beacon Hills.

Fox Stiles, Werefox Stiles, Daddy Stiles

Precious: I love the style, it tumbles and tumbles over itself. Stiles is himself. Derek keeps hanging around, and he loves little Princess Leia. Cora keeps laughing at them. Stiles might be a little confused.

******

He calls Derek and says, “I think your entire family is here, dude,” and Derek roars, “What?” and, “Don't call me dude, “ and, “Fuck, I'll be right over.”

Derek shows up in his EMT uniform and with his partner Boyd, stoic and amused, and the wild look in Derek's eyes is probably as close to a panic as Stiles will ever see him in.

Derek says, “Oh my god, Laura,” and grabs for Prin just as Prin launches herself out of Laura's arms toward him. He swings her up in a practiced movement and settles her on his hip and Laura grins so wide her fangs are showing.

“The pack wanted to meet her, even Mom's here,” she says, gesturing toward a big black wolf that looks almost exactly like Derek in wolf form – the wolf lifts her head and sneezes at them, then goes back to nosing through Stiles's DVD collection.

“Mom,” Derek says, and holds Prin up so she hides his face. Prin tugs at his hair and knees him in the eye and giggles when he shoves her up so her tummy is balanced on the top of his head, it's so cute Stiles can hardly stand it, his life is insane.

“Okay,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together, “I'll make tea.”

I don't think that means what you think it means by ThroughTheTulips  M, 21k, 7 works, Complete.  Ever notice how aliens have mostly similar customs to humans in Stargate? There never seem to be words or concepts that just don't translate. For the most part that makes sense given how they were spread deliberately across the universe, but there should be more weird stuff.  //  So I made some. This is very fluffy and ridiculous. Enjoy.

I simply can't with this. What an unanticipated, hysterical delight.

 I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter  E, 52k, Complete (series is 132k of deliciousness)  [Implied Mpreg, rather than actual #mpreg].  Stiles finds a baby on the porch.  //  It looks exactly like him.  //  Well, this is awkward.

Favorite, read again, still a favorite

Funny and unique and gripping (and there's one part that's simply fucking heartbreaking, god every.time. I bawl like a baby). I love this so much. It's totally one of my return-again-and-again-comfort-fics (even though there's very little that's slow-paced and domestic about it).

 monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora  M, 6k, Complete.  It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

Alpha Derek, Omega Stiles, Caretaking,  

lol.  short and funny and sweet and Alpha!Derek is a caretaker (and pregnant omega!Stiles is a sass-spewing dork)

 finger on the trigger and all fired up by tryslora  E, 6k, Complete  [Implied Potential Mpreg rather than #mpreg].  Derek goes undercover to expose a drug trafficking ring running inside of a porn studio. What he finds is Stiles.

Hot and funny.

 I'm Not Immune by moodwriter  E, 24k, Complete.  “Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now.  //  The one where Stiles and Derek get kidnapped, and sex needs to happen for reasons.

Great story, grows as it's written. Follows a lot of emotional development, tangled in the godawfulfucking situation they're trapped in.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica  E, 125k, Complete.  Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm.  //  Awesome.  //  And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts.  //  Joy.

Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, Mpreg, Kidnapping, Stalking, cultural ramifications of a/b/o

So, Stiles, the omega-rights activist who never wants anything to do with an Alpha and wants to avoid any of that biological imperative bullshit, winds up pregnant a la Jane the Virgin. BUT. Derek is unwilling to commit, or even to have Stiles tell anyone who the baby-Daddy is. This could be because a complete psychopath has him in her targets.

Kate is one fuck-scary villain, just, crazy as a bag of cats and vicious with it, and the filth that comes out of her mouth is truly chilling.

Stiles gets kidnapped pretty early on, which is frightening enough, and then she's back for another try. At that point, he's kidnapped again, this time by Derek, who whisks him across the country to the Preserve, a werewolf compound in Maine. Here, Stiles is the only human, pregnant and vulnerable and trying to make a temporary life until the baby is born. But will it only be temporary?

There's love, sociopolitical musings, lots of angst, lots of danger. The baby is born about 3/4 of the way through the story, and then Kate comes around to terrorize everyone again. Even though Derek and Stiles are living in a house that's reinforced with bars and a panic room, she still manages to nearly burn Stiles and the baby…

 Rescue Me (& Take Me In Your Arms) by tumtatumtum  E, 34k, Complete (series is 37k so far).  Just when Stiles is starting to reach panic-attack levels of stress, a leather jacket and firm thigh are pressed right up next to him, and an arm is casually thrown over his shoulder. Stiles looks up to thank this kind person who is saving his life, and suddenly forgets what air is.  //  Because HOT. DAMN. Call the police and the fire-man, this guy is smoking.  //  Or the AU where Derek helps save Stiles from an ex, and a steamy BDSM relationship ensues- with feelings all over the place.

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sub Stiles, Dom Derek

Whoooaa, Nellie. Strap in for a ride, folks. Hot and also hilarious, which is a difficult combo to achieve. Loads of D/s sexy times. Stiles is precious. Derek is possessive and a wee bit insecure. They're awful fun to watch together.  ***The one where Stiles is Alpha Mate which magically means he starts leaking slick outta his ass, even tho he's human.

*******

[Kept trying to find this fic using key words bar and boyfriend and ex-boyfriend... which finally got me there. It's SO worth a re-read or ten.] I also tagged it with fake/pretend relationships, since it's fake for about the first 5 minutes, until Derek puts his hand on the back of Stiles' neck and Stiles moans and MELTS and lo, romantic and sexual interest is born.)

 It's a mad, mad world by ElisAttack  E, 74k, Complete [No #mpreg]  "They call him the Feral Wolf." The man laughs hysterically as Stiles backs away from him, fear coursing through his veins. "Feral Hale. Do you know why? Huh?" The man creeps closer, testing the restraint of his chains, white talcum falling from his skin, swirling in the air like the dust devils plaguing the wasteland. "Because he's fucking mad."  //  Or the one where Stiles is a prisoner looking to return home, but to do so, he may have to rely on a questionable drifter.

Really enjoyed this. Very interesting take on alpha/omega, haven't seen it before. And yay for apocalyptic mad max-type world. Scary as fuck.

a little advice for aspiring fires by The Byger (Byacolate)  E, 42k, Complete.  Regardless of his sadly lacking social circle, Stiles was going to have to get some physical contact or he was going to explode. Seriously. It’d be messy and Derek would probably become even more emotionally constipated having to clean up little bits of Stiles from his pristine walls and furniture.

Touch-Starved, Skin Hunger, Omega Stiles, Sassy Stiles, stiles talks CONSTANTLY, Mpreg, Kidfic

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by CharWright5  E, 110k, Complete  [No #mpreg].  There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

Fox Stiles, Creature Stiles, he's not a fox, but when I'm cruising that tag, I'll like to read this story

Idiot boys. Hot sex. More idiot boys. Angst. Fluff.

Jurisdiction by elisera  M, 7k, Complete (series complete at 20k).  John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  //  But the temper is still there.  //  He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Papa Stilinski is a total badass and mmm mmmm mmmm, so is Derek. Stiles has got some awesome muscle looking out for his best interests.

Into Something New by marguerite_26  E, 9k, Complete.  [Implied Mpreg rather than #mpreg].  Something is happening to Stiles. He’s losing time. Something is messing with his head, with his body. Maybe if he felt better he’d think to be worried.

 Nowhere Man by 1lostone  E, 76k, Complete.  [Mpreg (off screen)]  When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter.  //  Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.

1lostone is, as always, the goddess of the lengthy, painful, disturbing, angsty, violent, sexy story. God, I love it.

The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia  E, 40k, Complete.  Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

Sweet: very fluffy and domestic.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)  E, 63k, Complete.  (Part of series A/B/O bodice rippers) [Mpreg, Discussion of mpreg, no men were pregnant in the making of this fic].  Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.  //  now with explicit epilogue - the rest of the story is teen rated though, so if you don't like the idea of explicit sex in your bodice rippers - just don't read that bit.

Great story.

The Well of Living Waters by kalpurna  E, 30k, Complete.  King Derek takes a consort.

 Within His Power by NoBezel  E, 69k, Complete.  [Discussion of mpreg]  Derek is a wolfish cyborg, brother of the Governor of California, heir to the Hale fortune. Stiles is a un-sequenced human in a world of designer DNA. When Derek is forced to choose a mate, no one expects him to choose Stiles. To be fair, Derek doesn't expect him to say no.

Pretty fucking phenomenal. Lots of world-building and political intrigue. If you're in it for the tropes, you'll be disappointed, but otherwise it's intense and dense and lovely.

The Threat of Human Sacrifice by vampireisthenewblack  E, 45k, Complete.  The sheriff bought a crib and made Derek help him put it together. Stiles thought of Hemingway and the shortest, most heartbreaking story ever told, and dismantled it on his own while Derek was out.  //  [The one where Stiles getting knocked up is the least of his worries.]

So excellent and intense.

The Honey and the Sting by the_ragnarok  M, 19k, Complete (series still wip)  Derek didn't remember what happened when he went into heat. He could only assume the worst. The truth may be stranger than that.

Beautiful.

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel  E, 77k, Complete.  "So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.  //  God, he dreams.  //  He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Fuck.

 Shifts by gryvon  E, 15k, Complete.  Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.

Who doesn't want Stiles having emotionally confusing sex with Derek, getting knocked up unbeknownst to either of them, and then kidnapped for the future baby? I mean, really. It's classic.

A Mating Moon by unpossible  E, 37k, Complete.  (Series 55k so far.) [this is not mpreg, just to be clear]  “Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air.  //  “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

fucking fantastic

 (Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles  E, 60k, Complete.  (Series 63k so far.)  Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

Oh, the angst, the pining, the guilt, the blame, the anger. Total pain-fest while we watch Stiles nearly die from the burden of the pregnancy. Lovely sweet ending, of course.

Tried and Tested Series by dancinbutterfly  E, 53k, 12 works, Complete.  In which Derek has a sex emergency with unplanned results, Stiles could be the baby daddy on one of those horrible MTV pregnancy shows, Sheriff Stilinski takes in strays and life in Beacon Hills never has a dull moment, not even when things are calm.

Really wonderful series. Stopped at Part 11, so am waiting for updates. A good investment of time, even incomplete. ;D  //  [Huh, evidently I missed an update somewhere along the line!]

In the Solstice of our Hearts by ravingrevolution  E, 73k, Complete.  "You're not putting that up your butt," Scott told him flatly and Stiles couldn't stop the pissed off whine he made, but his friend continued. "Stiles, you can't put that up your butt, you know that. Your butt won't be ready for anything to go in it until-"  //  "Okay, okay!" he said, flailing his hands to stop his friend's lecture. "Message received, no butt stuff until I'm pounced on by some freaking animal in the forest and ravished to within an inch of my life. Got it. Thanks, Scotty, I mean heaven forbid I actually try to take control of my life and give myself a fighting chance or anything."  //  "Not all alphas are animals," Scott said quietly.  //  Maybe he was right, but Stiles wasn't holding his breath.

Omega Stiles, Berserk Stiles, omega beast, everyone's a virgin, Hurt/Comfort, care taking

The one where there's a Mate Run in the woods, and Derek with his pack manage to frighten Stiles up a tree from whence he falls and is impaled on a branch (ouch!) and then they spend a week in a cave while Stiles heals. Meanwhile, Kate and her cronies are sneaking into the month-long Mate Run with the intent to a)finally kill Derek and b) sneakily bond with some omegas. So Stiles goes berserk, which is the omega form of a hulking violence monster, to protect Derek. (Story could have stopped there, but carries on for another 1/3.)

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Oooh, that ‘Send Me a Character’ thing looks very fun. I may have to send a few more after these later, when I’ve had more time to think of some good ones for you, but for now I’ll do Butchy (TBM), JD (Heathers), Mal (Descendants) and Captain America (Marvel-duh lol). Enjoy!

Awesome! Well, if you have any more, definitely send them in! I’m excited to talk about these characters!

Butchy

First impression: Well, when TBM 1 came out, I was only 13, but anyway, I thought he was hilarious and a lot like my older brother/cousins. The way he tries to protect Lela from the surfers and everything about him made me smile. Loved him from the start!

Impression now: Now that I’ve watched both movies so many times, I’ve realized that he was such a well made character for the movie! Once again, I would’ve loved if they had made Wet Side Story a full length movie just so I could see more of his personality and the full story behind the rivalry!

Favorite moment: Either the “Lighthouses/water makes me a little bit nervous” moments, or the scene in TBM2 when they visit Lela in our world and he asks Lela if she misses him. Something about that scene in our world makes me feel something fierce! Just seeing that twinge of worry in his eyes that show what he must’ve felt; that his baby sister was ready to leave his life forever and didn’t seem like she’d miss him if she did stay.

Idea for a story: I have one that I would love to read/write! I would love to see a story, whether short or not, about what caused the rift between the bikers and surfers or what the characters backgrounds were.

Unpopular opinion: idk if it’s unpopular or not If there was a Butchy movie, I would watch the heck out of it, even if it was just him doing everyday things with the rest of The Rodents crew.

Favorite relationship: (siblings duh) Butchy and Lela, Butchy and Giggles, and (platonically) Butchy and Lugnut

Favorite Headcanon: I think that, although Butchy may act like a bit of a brick wall intellectually, but he’s actually very smart internally. He’s either repressing it, or doesn’t think it matters to everyone else, so he doesn’t show it. His leadership of the Rodents and the way he seemed to think things through a bit more in TBM2 has led me to that conclusion, I guess.

JD (Heathers)

First impression: (after listening to Meant to Be Yours once) Psychopath.

Impression now: I feel like he went a bit overboard with his devotion to Veronica. Then, with wanting to blow up the school and everything, I’m not sure what I think. My instincts are telling me he’s a bit schizophrenic or bipolar even though the only knowledge I have on those subjects is my friend Alexia who’s bipolar. I’m definitely looking into his character more as I go, but as of right now, that’s my opinion so far.

Favorite moment: (from the movie)

Idea for a story: I would love to see his point of view through everything that happens during the movie/musical.

Unpopular opinion: (this seems unpopular now that I’ve scrolled through tumblr enough) I would’ve tried to be a friend to him, but never would’ve gone out with him. He seemed alright in the beginning, but his destructive personality deterred me quickly.

Favorite relationship: As much as his relationship with Veronica was great, I’d like to see a friendship with Heather C. for some reason. The school probably would’ve blown up if they had gotten in a relationship 😂 , but as a friendship, idk, but I’d like to see it for some reason.

Favorite headcanon: Not sure if this is a solid headcanon or not, but I’d like to think that he and Heather M. were friends at some point before The Heathers took over the school.

Mal (Descendants)

First impression: A lot like Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter) in the aspect that they both want their parent’s approval. Someone I’d try to befriend I’m a Hufflepuff for a reason, even though I’d probably be pushed aside and end up as a friend of Evie’s.

Impression now: Still think she’s like Draco a bit, but also she’s just trying to earn her mother’s respect and be treated as an equal, not a kid.

Favorite moment:

Idea for a story: Well, the books touched on a bit more than we see in the movies, but I guess I’d like to see what being raised on the island is really, truly like. Like, all we get is them being all rough and tough, what happened to all of the kids to make them toughen up so early on and what happened to the kids who just wanted to be good from the get go.

Unpopular opinion: I, honestly, didn’t like Mal and Ben’s relationship in the second movie as much as I liked it in the first one. I still ship them, but the whole part where she went to the Isle and he chased her kinda made me think a bit. Like, my parents always taught me that if you or your partner/friend feel a situation/argument needs to breath so you can think things over and gather yourself a bit, you should repect that. If Mal wants to go to the Isle to think, let her go for a little while, maybe a day or two, before you follow her. Idk, it’s probably just me!

Favorite relationship: I love the sisterly bond between her and Evie. Honestly, my first time watching the first movie (before I had read the books too), I had kinda hoped she would end up with Jay bc I thought Jay was cute (loved him as Seth Clearwater in Twilight).

Favorite headcanon: Mal is Hades’ daughter. I’ve thought that from the beginning and I love that other people think it too! I can’t wait to watch D3 to see what their relationship actually is.

Captain America

First Impression: FREAKING LOVE HIM! A lot like my dad in the whole military/take care of others before taking care of yourself aspect. I love the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan!

Impression now: I just saw Endgame. If you haven’t seen it/don’t want spoilers for it, skip this part and the accompanying gifs, please. I love that he finally got his dance with Peggy, however, he spent 3 movies saving/trying to help Bucky and he just abandons him in the present?! What. The. Actual. FUCK?! And another thing! He doesn’t age like we do bc of the serum and his 70 years in the ice! Like, his aging is prolonged and the whole “Old Steve” thing is freaking BS if you take that into consideration! I just need to understand what the Russo’s were thinking and why they killed me all through that entire movie.

RANT OVER.

Favorite moment:

Idea for a story: I have a ton! I’m actually going to start posting stories/“x reader” stories again on my Avengers page @chickadee-avenger-imagines I have some x reader stories already on that page, but I have a ton in my draft folder. My biggest one is a huge Endgame spoiler, but it’s basically a Fix-it for what I wanted to change in Endgame! I will be posting my Mavel stories on my Archive of Our Own page that also goes by DianaDirectioner if you want updates on my stories there as well!

Unpopular opinion: Steve should never have tried going out with Sharon Carter. I get it, he wants someone to be in a relationship, however, no- just no. If I put myself in either one of their places, I’d have never so much as entertained that relationship in the first place! It just seems kinda gross to me. Sharon was pretty much dating her aunt’s old boyfriend. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that. Ever!

Favorite relationship: (platonic) Steve and Sam, Steve and Tony, Steve and Peter Parker. Obviously Bucky. (Possibly romantic) Bucky or Peggy, it depends.

Favorite Headcanon: Steve never tries that crap in Endgame. Another favorite of mine is that Bucky never falls/he falls and Steve goes searching for him bc it’s his boyfriend best friend and he needs to see the proof that Bucky’s gone before he can accept Bucky’s death. Then he goes hunting down Hydra for him! Just 😍😍😍

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Croatia to Eurovision with a confused angel lad and his lowkey over-enthusiastic mentor

Yeah, well, I definitely have hoped for this nation to finally finally bring back Dora as their national selection, as I myself have never really felt their internal entries since they abandoned it (well maybe except Nina from 2012 but even then by now I grew out of it softly). Not even Nina from 2016 which was tipped as a huge fan fave (though I’m so sorry for it getting completely lambasted in Eurovision, especially because of the poor clothing choice and Nina’s warbly notes here and there).

And they did! After like what, 7 solid years??? After the last Dora ending out with a disastrous end result and spawned a person to (more) stardom who even qualified a couple years back and this year he’s there to be a songwriter for his home country because of the Eurovision 2019 slogan inspiring him???? Well... yeah that happened. With having fought 15 other participants made up of familiar faces, up and coming starlets, the already legendary divas or just some people, he won as a songwriter for this next target of my review - the target that is aptly titled “The Dream” and is performed by a 19 year old up-and-coming pop star, Roko Blažević. Yep, Jacques Houdek won a NF but not with himself singing. Man did his magic game get stronger over the years since Dora 2011.

And interestingly enough, Jacques’s wizardry comes in with him being capable of selling chanceless music as something worth buying into. How can that happen???

Well, to be frank with you all, this song is not that bad, unlike everyone thinks it is. It feels like a low-rent musical ballad, sure, but it's not terribly composed or anything... well, I know I usually hate on those songs that like using mostly not the "verse - chorus - verse - chorus - bridge - chorus", but there are plenty of songs that mess with that structure that usually just omit the last two components (radio pop music) or don’t even need one, and they sound great. Here we have the omission of the last two components that more reminds me of “Grande amore” (I am not saying they’re comparable but still), as in, slow ballad in the F minor (”The Dream” even slaps a keychange on) that tries to sound majestic/dramatic, not very much so to be intense, just something theatrical I s’pose. And has a little too little time for another full verse so they just go to a bridge (and "Grande amore" had two long pre-choruses too?!?). I don’t hate this one, if I had to make a 2019 ranking this instant I’d put this in Top 30 somehow.

So what is there to be found that puts people off? They cannot be hating on Roko’s voice, which is really great for a young man like him. (In fact, God forbid I say one bad word about him, because some specific one on Twitter will have a beatdown with me because I dissed her hubby... so I’ll keep my mouth shut about any qualities of his :X) I guess it consists of several factors: 1) the song sounds dated; 2) the lyrics, especially in that chorus (I DREAM OF LOOOOOOVE, YOU DREAM OF LOOOOOOVE~ lol I actually dream of hatred, hatred will prevail >:) ); 3) the vocal volume is loud at parts; 4) the song is English-Croatian and somehow it should be sung in Croatian just to hide away the hideous understandable lyrics. My personal caveats are: 1) the song is too plodding and it shows a lot in that chorus with Roko holding his long notes (can we get tothe point FASTER?!); 2) the chorus lacks productional depth and maybe with a slight revamp (given Jacques wouldn’t be so stubborn about it!) it could have sounded the right amount of dramatic. If anything, I am GRATEFUL that it sounds more palatable than "My Friend", as THAT one was a joyful of cringey clichés tbh. The cheese became rotten and smelly and the sudden violin lead-in into the bridge still creeps me out. Goddamn it Jaq.

Not to mention Mr. Houdek is soooooo optimistic about his song, he finds everything in it perfect enough to not change it! Not the melody, not the language decisions, not the wings (did I tell you Roko wore wings on his NF performance??) - no! Did someone not tell him that Eurovision is rapidly evolving and his fantasies of coming top 3 with this song just better stay fantasies? Oh wait, it's the same man who once sang "dare to dream and make it real", of course he's stuck to his guns like super glue. Can't blame him, there were worse songs in top 3 over the years. Still though, the wings is a stupid idea. There should be something else involved if Jacques wants a performance to be memorable. Roko can't just stand there and only do what he's told to do by his guardian songwriter - granted he has to behave but still...

In the end, how would I summarize this tl;dr? I am one of a handful of folks who find this alright. There's a bigger minority who outright adores the song but I'm just there that likes this and nothing much more, honestly. Everything's just alright. Guess I'm sometimes soft enough to accept cheese, huh. But seriously, the mentoring behind the scenes... it's creepy to say the least. I'm happy Roko's having a helluva good time at least.

Approval factor: Oh I don't know with this one, statistically we can just go ahead and... try approving this? I’m not a huge fan of Croatian entries this decade, at least Slovenia redeemed themselves in my eyes last minute with “Sebi”, while even in my Croatian faves (they mostly are “Nebo” and “Crazy”, and I maaaaaybe like “Lighthouse” a bit too actually?) I see some negative qualities that completely overwhelm my liking for them. But since I legally find “The Dream” okay, I give this one a bit of a pass.

Follow-up factor: Sadly this kind of choice feels to me as a steady divedown in overall quality of what Croatia usually offers us. Well the decline was always on since “My Friend” followed up “Lighthouse” I suppose, or it's just so happens that Croatia sent the duds on this decade only in odd years ("Celebrate" was fun but tragic trash, "Mižerja" was pleasant I guess but everything here was miserable from the beginning and everyone still doesn’t get why “My Friend” qualified and “Crazy” didn’t). I like it though.

Qualification factor: I’d like to believe that this one can borderline sneak the fuck in to the finals for no reason other than Jacques knowing how to work things in his favour. Yes, I’m not writing this off completely. Although I still see some parts where this wouldn’t work out, it’s actually not 100% doomed... if anything, I at least don’t see it coming last in semi easily! It’s not as LAME as Iceland last year was. And it too was a basic love-peace-dreams message inserted into an older-timey-sounding singalong ballad and was given for a young singer that has a helluva lot of potential later ASIDE Eurovision. That is if they don't pretend Eurovision "ruined [their] careers, njeh!", of course. At least Roko can SANG live and maybe it will happen again that a singer's voice will make this surprisngly qualify over the song? We'll see. For now Jacques should just stay focused on how to make Roko's angel wings (sigh...) more memorable on stage in case the voice is not qualifying but the gimmicks are.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

EMA 2019 at least had positive surprises all over for a NF this non-cared-about-by-me. Dora just... did not. Really. This NF did not interest me all that much song-quality-wise, and it even had SIX MORE SONGS than EMA!!! Crazy, huh?? But it’s okay, I can talk about the show to you if you want me to:

• From the Dora participants list announcement I was mostly excited to hear like two entries, and I'll mention both of them right away separately. And it's by two artists I've heard of before a lot! Though this first one kind of made me feel like I've been somewhat betrayed... enter Luka Nižetić who has got a nice vast catalogue of songs now - soft song(s), upbeat summer songs, and so on. And I kinda liked some of those songs of his I heard (if you're looking for recommendations, give "Vječno" a listen!), but “Brutalero”, his actual Dora 2019 entry was... on a whole different level. Dude, when was ripping off “Mi gente” ever useful?? It’s the year people were chasing after “Fuego” as the Latinesque bop to copy, not this! I hate it when people rehash annoying (but catchy) songs, and it’s certainly worse when they do it as their Eurovision NF entry. Brutal. And I actually remember hyping him before hearing the song, which is a bigger facepalm-worthy moment of mine. When will I ever learn?! ;( Thank God for the juries who served this song right. IDC if the revamp version of this made it any better, I’ll be fuming over this not being an inspired song. Oh and the comic book cartoon style made this brutally laughable to me, I said what I said. It might have entertained some kids though. So to summarise, Luka’s capable of having bops out, but “Brutalero” ain’t it, sis.

• Well guess what - Friendship ended with LUKA, Now MANNTRA is my best friend! Hell yeah lol. Did I tell you I like rock music so much? So I really foresaw kind of liking Manntra's song “In the Shadows” and rooting for them based on me knowing their name (just like Luka but oop), and in fact I really did root for them in the end! I wish I supported them more than Luka instead. They’re bangin’. They’re blazin’. They’re pure awesomeness. Their costumes. THAT BREAKDOWN. Magic. Should’ve won, and if them winning were any forbidden because Croatia is just refusing to accept stuff I’d stan for, at least come second. Screw Luka, screw Lorena. Bring the rock music back. ^^

• oh yeah and the others I guess. Well, if I had to recommend a few entries, here goes: if you’re nostalgic for old-timey early 2000′s bops (in the style of “Everyway That I Can”), you go and listen to the aforementioned Lorena Bućan‘s entry, “Tower of Babylon”. If you dreamed of one of the Femminem singers becoming a 60s retro artiste (actually you did not, that sounds very utter random), go check her project’s (Gelato Sisters) entry, “Back to That Swing”. If you’re here for THE QUEEN DOMENICA, go ahead, check out “Indigo”, the ultimate shopping mall background music anthem. My actual other favourite together with Manntra was Beta Sudar though, as “Don’t Give Up” as some really nice pop I guess. You see what I mean when I said that Dora this year did not interest me all that much song-quality-wise? Well ofc some songs were nice but that's all and too much 'just niceness' is slowly breaking me honestly. I would have gladly cancelled the NF and put Manntra through internally instead. Epic boys deserve an epic platform to showcase themselves, I don’t make the rules here.

Thankfully that's that out of the way, now I'm just going to wish this sweet little angel man all the best in Tel Aviv and not to be too upset if he flops. I know Jacques would be upset, but for that he shouldn't put Roko through a similar mind process also...

[agl03]

Are you still taking Fitzsimmons prompts? If so, I’d love to see something along the lines of Jemma having twins and Deke volunteers to babysit because Fitzsimmons hasn’t had a date night in forever but once they leave, Deke is way over his head because he has never taken care of anyone before, but he refuses to call Fitzsimmons because he doesn’t want to ruin their date.

 Hi Anon!

I am, I get to them as my muse permits.  

Deke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he finally turned down the tree-lined drive that leads to his Grandparents home.  In the years since they had saved the world, found Fitz,  and saved the world again, they had finally settled down when they learned Jemma was pregnant, with twins.  Moving into the cottage on the outskirts of River’s End.  The pair even going as far to renovate the small guest cottage on the property into a studio apartment for him so he would always have a home of his own and one with them.

He didn’t hesitate walking in the front door and was greeted by the familiar smell of tea and the eerie sound of complete silence.  Complete silence was a thing of the past in the Fitzsimmons household since James and Mackenzie had arrived.  

“Fitz?” 

“Jemma?  Are you guys here?” Deke called setting the bag that contained his customary presents down.  The silence didn’t last long after that was there was a stampede of footsteps from the living room followed by twin squeals of delight.

“Uncle Deke!”

The pair rounded the corner and Deke only had a moment to brace himself before he was tacked by the now six-year-old twins.  Each one talking so fast that Deke only caught snippets of what they were saying.  

From what Deke caught James had started a garden with Jemma, Mackenzie had helped Fitz build a new drone, and both were excited that they were taking turns reading Harry Potter to their parents at night.  

“Okay time out,” Deke said standing up and scooping one in each arm with a grunt.  They really were getting too big for this.  “You can tell me all about it but first where is your Mum and Da?”

In unison, the twins pointed into the living room and Deke followed having to stifle a laugh at the site.  Fitz and Simmons slumped against each other fast asleep.   Their feet were propped up on the coffee table where it appeared Mackenzie had been giving them pedicures before he’d arrived and James had taken it upon himself to use his mothers make up on his parent’s faces.  

The normally pristine living room was littered with pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, books, and a familiar bucket Jemma would use when anyone under her care was sick.  

“Was someone having tummy troubles?” Deke asked.

“Yeap!” James said proudly as he wiggled out of Deke’s arms and returned to the couch and the abandoned make up palette. 

Mackenzie stayed with Deke enjoying having him to herself for a moment.   “First Mommy got sick, then Daddy because he was taking care of her, and then Kenzie and I at the same time.  I threw up on Da twice!.”

“Da said he didn’t know we could throw up that much,” Mackenzie added helpfully.

“And I’m afraid with them being ill then us they didn’t sleep for a few days.  So James and I were doing a Spa-” Mackenzie said reminding Deke so much Jemma at that moment.  

“And I’m doing makeovers-” James said holding up some blue eyeshadow just above Fitz’s already hot pink eyelid.

As much as Deke would have loved to see what kind of masterpiece James would make he opted to rescue his grandparents instead.  “Okay, Monkies why don’t you two go get in my bag and see if you can find your presents.”

They didn’t need telling twice and immediately ran back to where he’d dropped his bags.  “I hope its a kitty!” Mackenzie cried rounding the corner. 

Once they were gone Deke snapped a quick photo before sitting down on the couch next to Jemma and gently shaking her.  Usually, Jemma woke if anyone so much as sneezed, so for her not to hear him enter must mean she was utterly and completely exhausted.  

“Jemma,” he said and she shot up with a start and in turn waking Fitz.   

Fitz still half awake put himself in front of Jemma while looking wildly around for the twins before his eyes fell onto Deke and he relaxed.  

“Deke,” Jemma said warmly embracing him in a hug.

“I hear you guys had a long week,” Deke said handing a baby wipe that Jemma always had on hand to Fitz.  

Fitz wiped his eye with the wipe and groaned when it came back pink.  

Jemma grabbed another wipe and set to work helping get the makeup off of Fitz’s face.  “Its been a long week.  We did a consult for Mack and I picked up a bug which proceeded to ravage our house.  Neither of us has had much of a break recently but at least the kids are starting to feel better.  Poor things now just want to play.”

Two excited squeals from the entry telling them they’d found their presents.  

“Mummy, Da!” James cried running in a stuffed dog under one arm and a thick book under the other.  Mackenzie hot on his heels with a stuffed kitten.  “Uncle Deke got us new animals and a book on Greek Mythology!  Can we read it?”

“Of course we can,” Fitz said opening his arms to James and Mackenzie settled in with her mom showing her the fluffy calico kitten.  

“Perhaps tonight after baths,” Jemma added.  

“I have a better idea,” Deke said with a smile.  “Why don’t I watch the Monkies and you guys go out to dinner, take in a movie, go nap at your old bunk at the Lighthouse.  Whatever you like and take a break.”

Fitz and Jemma both looked at him with wide and uncertain eyes.  It had been a while since Deke had watched the pair on his own.  Usually, he’d have a helping hand from someone else on the team.  But before either could voice their concern the twins were jumping up and down in excitement.

“Please Mummy!”

“We can make pancakes!”

“And watch movies!”

“Build a fort!”

“Read stories!”

“Play hide and seek!”

“Get a kitty!”

“What do you say?” Deke asked putting on a pair of puppy dog eyes to match the twins.

Jemma looked at Fitz and after a few subtle nods, Jemma spoke.  “If you are sure you can handle them, it would be nice to get out just the two of us.”

—————————————————-

Three hours later Deke realized he had made a terrible decision and it was taking every bit of willpower and love for his grandparents not to pick up the phone and beg for them to come home.   Though he hadn’t ruled out using his Shield panic button and have Mack send a team in to save him.

Things had begun to go wrong nearly from the start.  

Pancakes for dinner had sounded like a fabulous idea until James had dropped the bag of flour and Mackenzie had pulled the running mixer out of the batter.  Jemma’s pristine kitchen now resembled a scene from Frozen with white powder covering nearly every surface.  He’d tried to clean it up while the twins ate the four pancakes he’d manage to make but they had eaten quickly and taken off for the next phase of the night.  Leaving a trail of white footprints into every bedroom.  

Deke had decided he’d clean up the kitchen later, grabbing bags of crips and candy to take inside the fort.  It had taken shape rapidly and between the three of them and every pillow and blanket in the house, they’d managed to turn the living room into a very respectable fort.  Unfortunately, Deke hadn’t been paying too close of attention to what all the twins brought inside as he’d been shoring up the supports.  Finding when he crawled in that nearly every toy the pair owned now resided in there as well, leaving no room for them to sit.   Even worse the twins were bored of it, had eaten all the candy, and ready to move on.

“How about we go for a walk,” Deke had suggested thinking a the stroll would burn off some of this pent-up energy…that may or may not be exasperated by the bags of candy they’d eaten.  

They didn’t really answer him, more let out another squeal and ran to find their shoes.  

“Can we walk to the Jones’s Fruit Stand?” McKenzie asked.  

The Joneses were a sweet elderly couple owned a farm just down the road and would put the excess from their garden out on the weekends at their roadside stand.  Jemma loved to take the twins down to pick out fresh ingredients for dinner.  

“That sounds perfect,” Deke said not seeing how this could possibly backfire on him.  

“Just no carrots, or lettuce, or broccoli, well anything green for that matter,” James said earning an eye roll for from his sister.  Deke had to agree with him both inheriting Fitz’s aversion to most if not all vegetables.  

The twins walked the familiar path, excitedly bouncing up and down as they would run ahead and back to urge Deke to go faster.   Once the stand was in sight they took off at a full run to begin to check out the day’s selection.  

Deke arrived a few minutes later to see the twins not looking over the fresh strawberries and apples.  Rather, peering into a cardboard box with Mrs. Jones smiling down fondly at them.   

Mackenzie turned first her blue eyes shimmering in delight as she held a fluffy Calico kitten, nearly identical to the stuffed one Deke had brought back hours before.  

Oh no.  Was all Deke could think before James followed suit with a sleeping kitten snuggled against his chest.  

“Mrs. Jones said they are free to a good home!” James said in an excited whispered as to not wake the kitten.  “And she’ll provide some food and litter until we can get to the store!”

“Can we take them home Uncle Deke?” Mackenzie followed.  “Mrs. Jones said they are brother and sister and have been inseparable since they were born, and they both need to go to the same house.” 

“Please, Uncle Deke?” James added.  “We promise we’ll take care of them, Mummy and Da said we could have a kitty when we could take care of them and we are.”

“Besides I said get a kitty and they didn’t say no when we discussed our plans for the evening,” Mackenzie added. 

Deke knew he should say no.  Bringing home not one but two pets was quite the commitment.  But seeing the two so happy and those identical sets of blue eyes boring into his own silently pleading with him.  Not to mention looking completely adorable there holding the kittens.  

Honestly, how could he be expected to say no?

“Okay,” Deke relented.  “But if Mummy and Da say no they will have to live with me at my place and -” He didn't’ get to finished as they squealed in delight and ran to embrace him in another hug.

“You’re the best Uncle!” Mackenzie cried.

“Even better than Aunt Daisy and she got us drums for Christmas!” James added.

“And Uncle Mack with the Play-Doh!”

Deke gave them both a hug.  Whatever wrath he could face from his grandparents was well worth it for a moment like this.  “You are very welcome Monkies, now lets get some apples and head home.  It’s almost bedtime.”

——————————————————–

It was just after midnight before Fitzsimmons returned to their home.  They had taken Deke up on his offer not only crashing at the Lighthouse for a nap but took dinner out, having a picnic to watch the stars.  

Every light in the downstairs was on and the first thing that they saw was white footprints on the dark wood floors.

“Are those paw prints?” Fitz asked pointing next to his children’s.

Jemma nodded slowly and felt her jaw drop when she entered the great room.  The mess of a few hours before was downright organized for the sight that greeted them.  

The kitchen was still covered in flour and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes. “How many bowls do you need to make pancakes?” Fitz whispered. 

The living room was no better and contained the remains of the fort.  The blankets now collapsed into heaps.  While the TV rolled the credits of the twins current go to movie, Incredibles.

Three figures were fast asleep on the couch.  Deke in the center with James and Mackenzie each snuggled into his side.  Deke had flour streaked in his hair on his face while the twins had it on their feet.

It was only upon closer inspection that they noticed the two balls of fluff curled up in the twins lap.

“Bloody hell he got them kittens!” 

[mlaenie]

I have picked up playing Sea of Thieves again ever since Season 3: A Pirate’s Life released, and I have done so for a few reasons. Reason number one: I do enjoy playing Sea of Thieves most of the time. Sometimes it is an engaging game fully capable of entertaining me for hours, and sometimes I log in, immediately get attacked by another player or harassed over their mic chat, and get discouraged and tired of playing about 5-10 minutes later. Reason number two: I love Pirates of the Caribbean and a Sea of Thieves crossover between the two sounded like an interesting collaboration. Reason Number three: I heard there were some pretty neat Monkey Island easter eggs hidden in the new Tall Tales and I was not satisfied with simply watching a youtube video about them. I wanted to experience them for myself.

Also, while I have absolutely no intention of purchasing microtransactions for SoT, the rewards for leveling up the plunder pass are pretty neat. I can’t resist collecting every Outlaw Pass in Red Dead Online, either. But RDO is easy because you earn gold for completing missions, daily challenges, bounty hunter missions, and opening treasure chests.

In the first chapter of this new pirate adventure, the player meets with the mysterious Castaway. She tells the player that trouble is coming and that in order to prevent it, they must sail to the Sea of the Damned, a mystifying land of the dead where ghost pirates can sail the seas and while away eternity.

In a fascinating homage to the original Disneyland ride and scenes from the Pirates of the Caribbean films, our player character (whom I feel motivated to develop as my own fan-character offspring of Guybrush Threepwood and Elaine Marley from Monkey Island) is instructed to navigate their way through Dead Man’s Grotto, following ghosts of pirates to find themselves just outside of a desolate town known as Sailor’s Grave.

Our character has one goal— to rescue another pirate who has been imprisoned on the Ferry of the Damned. In order to reach the prisoner, the player must stow away on the Ferry. Before we can do that, however, we must summon the Ferry to Sailor’s Grave with help from a disembodied skull of a cursed pirate (Murray?… Bob? The potential for Monkey Island jokes is endless, in my mind)

Sailor’s Grave is an old town that was once a lively hideaway for pirates to hole up with their loot, but as we visit it, we discover that the town has fallen to ruins and most of the inhabitants have moved on in one way or another, save for one who was left hanging in a cage. The reason he was strung up? His crew mutinied against him after he snuffed out the flames of the lighthouse in order to prevent the Ferry of the Damned parting him with his treasure.

I enjoyed the introduction of the Cursed Captain. I like the idea of my young Captain Marley Threepwood telling the old skull that she’s actually had some prior experience with cursed talking skulls through her father’s old pal Murray. As well as telling him the tales Guybrush would most definitely have told her as a young, starry-eyed kid hungry for her own adventures.

I found it depressing whenever I had to set the Cursed Captain down, even just temporarily. A few times while wandering around the abandoned town, I had to pick up another item needed to fulfill an optional quest objective, only to hear him call out not to leave him behind or remarking that he was being abandoned again as his crew had done to him. As chatty as he was to the point of being annoying after a while, in-character I did not blame him at all after spending so long in isolation.

Plus it’s just nice in a game like Sea of Thieves to meet a skeleton who isn’t hellbent on killing you. And as someone who mainly plays solo and only occasionally teams up at random on open crews who will put up with my silent shenanigans and text chat use, it feels like a relief to see an NPC do most of the talking for once.

The player has the option of either progressing with the main story by taking the Cursed Captain to the top of the lighthouse, where he advises you on how to summon the Ferry by restoring the lighthouse and lighting beacons surrounding the island, or taking him around the remnants of Sailor’s Grave so that he can tell you about the town. There is one hidden beacon in town which, when lit using the lighthouse lens, opens up a gate to an area chock full of Monkey Island easter eggs.

Lightning flashes across the sky as you approach an old shipwreck, and a cinematic screen displays the words “Deep in the Caribbean” as the title theme from Monkey Island begins to play over the area instead of the solemn instrumental rendition of “Yo Ho, A Pirate’s Life For Me” that is heard in the rest of the town. I don’t if the developers were thinking about it at the time, but it seems to call back to Curse of Monkey Island and Edward van Helgen’s pirate story of hearing an inescapably catchy, haunting melody that drove most of his shipmates to madness.

The shipwreck found in this area is none other than the Mad Monkey from Monkey Island 2: LeChuck’s Revenge, the famous shipwreck that Guybrush Threepwood needed to track down in order to retrieve the figurehead so that he could barter it for a piece of the map to Big Whoop, the indescribable treasure he spends the majority of the story searching for. The ship is renamed here to the Headless Monkey by its new captain, Kate Capsize. A series of journals authored by Kate reveal that she was out for revenge on Guybrush for having her falsely imprisoned under his name and stealing her near-grog.

Kate pursued Guybrush across the seas and discovered that he was most likely spending his honeymoon with his bride, Elaine Marley, in the Sea of Thieves. What happened to Kate’s ship isn’t explicitly mentioned, but I theorize that her ship lacked the equipment required to survive sailing through The Shroud (the waters that encompass the Sea of Thieves territory and keep it hidden away from intruders) or that she unknowingly sailed through a portal into the Sea of the Damned and found herself trapped there.

Whatever the true reason for the ship’s destruction and her demise, Captain Kate herself is nowhere to be found. Her final journal entry explains that she has realized revenge is nothing worth living or dying for. She has been reunited with her glass-bottomed boat, which she previously sold, and she only wishes to find a way to come back to life. She sailed off alone and was not heard from again, so it is unknown whether she found a way out or not.

The remains of her ship’s quarters contain a small map of Scabb, Booty, and Phatt Islands, as seen in MI2, and a larger map on the table that features the entire Tri-Island Area as seen in Escape From Monkey Island, including Monkey and Dinky Island as well. There’s no telling what, if anything more, will happen with Monkey Island in Sea of Thieves, but it does give me a glimmer of hope that maybe my all time favorite game series isn’t completely dead yet. It would be fun to see iconic Monkey Island characters physically appear in a future update, if Disney/LucasArts were willing to allow it.

After finally returning to the lighthouse to complete the main objective of lighting the beacons at sea, the Ferry of the Damned begins to approach the island, and the Cursed Captain requests that he be taken to his ship, allowing the player passage from the side door of his quarters through his treasure room and out to a rowboat that our pirate hero must take to sneak themselves aboard the Ferry.

On to the next chapter of the tale, once our pirate successfully makes their way onto the Ferry of the Damned, they sabotage the Ferryman’s Well of Fates by lighting it with the Flame of Souls, setting free the trapped souls and secrets he has kept hidden on the lower decks of his ship. Making their way to the brig, the pirate meets up with the prisoner they are intended to rescue, revealed to be none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack is in possession of a peculiar treasure, a glimmering, glowing box he informs the player character is a key between worlds. He used it to flee to the Sea of Thieves whilst being pursued by Davy Jones, who seemed to have been restored to the Flying Dutchman after the Trident of Poseidon was destroyed.

It’s not really clear how Jones came to be once more, after his death in At World’s End, but I’m willing to borrow another quote from The Curse of Monkey Island, “True evil can never be destroyed completely.” In the context of Monkey Island, this is because the Ghost Pirate LeChuck has ostensibly found his true purpose in rising from the grave to torment Guybrush and attempt to win Elaine’s heart and hand in marriage. Perhaps Davy Jones has found a similar purpose in trying to imprison Jack in the locker?

After a tense battle with the Flying Dutchman, Jack loses the key to one of Jones’ minions who jumps ship with it. Jack demands that the Ferryman pursue the Dutchman, but gets knocked off balance and falls overboard the bow of the Ferry when the Dutchman releases a shockwave that rocks the ship.

With Jack lost to the depths of the Sea of the Damned, the Ferryman fears that both worlds are now in grave danger due to the player character’s selfish actions, but he does reward them for their bravery in fighting by returning them to the land of the living so that they may continue to fight to save the Sea of Thieves from Davy Jones, who intends to turn the high seas into his new locker.

[gilliansanderson]

If Ever There Is Tomorrow

previously: [1] [2] [AO3]

3. A Sailor Went To Sea

Summer 1960

Mulligan’s Pub is as greasy and Irish as it’s regulars. It happens to be the only bar open at 10 am on a Sunday and with his sailor’s uniform and bright orange hair, Bill Scully did not look out of place as he drops a quarter into the coin slot and flicks through the jukebox. Margret waits for him dutifully, sipping ginger ale and fanning away the heat with a coaster. Maggie doesn’t dance, she wouldn’t take his hand unless the song is perfect. The grin he shoots over his shoulder is smug, she arches her brow and tilts her head expectantly. A challenge, a dare, a show me what you’ve got. He shows her, and presses play.

Somewhere beyond the sea Somewhere waiting’ for me My lover stands on golden sands  And watches the ships that go sailing…

Something old, his grandmother’s ring. He’d kept it in his pocket for six months while he’d been out at sea. Katherine Scully had died at 83, a few days before he was to leave. She’d always liked that Margret, she had told him the last time they spoke as she pressed the warm golden band into his palm. The diamond was made of glass, but it gleamed like the beacon of a lighthouse on her finger, calling him back to their sticky table in the seedy, smoke-filled pub, calling him home. He crosses the room in far too many steps, tugs her gently out of her chair and into his arms, she tosses her head back as she laughs and he falls in love all over again.

…Somewhere beyond the sea She’s there watchin’ for me If I could fly like birds on high Then straight to her arms, I’d go sailing…

Something blue, her sapphire eyes. He’d fallen in love with them first, when he’d caught them as she sang in the church choir, she couldn’t carry a tune but sang the loudest all the same, she’d winked at him and he was done for. Every time he looked out on the ship’s deck, he was reminded of her. They had been wet and blue as the ocean as she stood waiting on the docks, searching the chaos of loved ones finding loved ones that misty morning. The first thing he did after setting foot on dry land was kiss her, the second was go down on one knee, the third was laugh through his tears as she’d tugged him up by the collar and told him “I’m not waiting a single second longer, sailor,”

“They had our song!” she beams; he pulls her ever closer, singing along softly in her ear, smirking as he feels the shiver run down her spine like a trickle of water.

…It’s far beyond a star It’s near beyond the moon I know beyond a doubt My heart will lead me there soon…

Something borrowed, her mother’s wedding dress, ivory lace. They’d practically ran to the courthouse, stopping only at her insistence, that at least something be done traditionally. They stole some roses from the garden and struggled to squeeze her into the dress, as modest and billowy as it was, it was still a tight fit. “Maggie, are you sure…?” he started to ask for the hundredth time, but she cut him off with a kiss.

“My parents were so incredibly angry; you have no idea.” She told him between painting her lips a heart-breaking shade of red and pinning a single white flower in her dark ebony curls. “I’m doing you a favour, buddy,”

Her parents were at mass, no doubt wondering where in hell their sinful young family shame could be. His arms had circled her waist, his fingers interlaced with hers and settle on her stomach.

Something new, so new it was still in the works. Six months, yet she was barely showing. Pressed against him as they dance; he feels his son kick. Bill, just once, wishes time could stand still, that he could live in this little vignette forever, but he knows that someday soon he’ll have to go back out to sea, and the song is quickly coming to an end.

“So what now?” his wife sighs against his neck,

“What now?” He echoes, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. He lets his fingers trail lazily along her jaw and tilts her chin to meet his gaze. She hasn’t stopped blushing since she’d said I do.

“How about the rest of our lives?” he grins and spins her one more time.

…We’ll meet beyond the shore We’ll kiss just like before Happy we’ll be beyond the sea And never again I’ll go sailing…

Spring 1980

Bill Scully Sr. could mark the day he’d started going grey, it was around the same time his youngest daughter had dyed the ends of her hair pink and gotten taken in for trespassing on prom night.

He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes as he pulled up at the Sherriff station at an ungodly hour. Dana was a smart teenager, smart enough to not run away but teenager enough to sneak into an abandoned property to go ghost hunting in the first place. She was with the Mulder kid. Of course she was.

It turns out the kids didn’t have to look that far, as in the darkened parking lot he finds a relentless spirit had come back to haunt him. Teena Mulder had not aged well, but he could hardly blame her. Her hair was more white than brown, the lines under her eyes were far too defined for someone her age. The woman he once knew had once been plucky and hopeful, but her expression now lacks any softness, he feels the swing coming and braces himself for the blow.

“They got themselves arrested,” she says in a tone as cool and cutting as a shard of ice.

“Oh, really?” he replies wearily, “Shit, it’s a good thing I always happen stop by the police station at four in the morning,”

“This is serious, Bill,” she frowns, and takes him back to 1973.

“They’re getting let off with a warning, Teena. They were stupid, but don’t make this into a bigger deal than it already is,”

“This is dicey and you know it,” she tears into a packet of cigarettes with her teeth, “I’m scared for them. I’m scared they’ll get each other hurt,”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead as if to soothe the pain that was ever growing in his temporal lobe, the putrid smell of smoke reminds him too much of days filled with shadowy parties and shady military men; in that moment he misses the salty sea air so much he feels sick.

“You want what’s best for them Teena? How about letting them be happy,” he says, because dammit they were happy. He’s never seen her daughter happier than after the boy came back into her life, he wasn’t strong enough to deal with the kind of heartbreak splitting them up would cause, the kind even a father’s love couldn’t soothe. “I won’t hurt her like that again,”

“It’s all fun and games now, but Fox is starting to get ideas about his sister, sooner or later Dana will get them too, you really want to take that risk?” Bill’s life was already full to the brim with small, forceful women, but none of them had ever quite infuriated him like this one. “Sometimes hurting someone is the best way to save them,”

“Is that how you justify what happened to Samantha?” The darkness had stained her green eyes black, they glimmer with unshed tears and he curses his big mouth. “No, I’m sorry… Look, I’m truly sorry about what your family went through Teena, but I’m never going to let it happen to mine.”

“This is bigger than you or I, Bill, it won’t end with us,” She shakes her head, her smile is bitter, mournful, grave, “Nobody lives forever, if you’re lucky you’ll die before your children, but after the fact, you can’t protect them,”

“Well then maybe you should quit smoking,” he replies and says a quick prayer for the boy as he storms into the building.

Her simple velvet gown is rumpled and bunched up to her knees as she rests her ratty white sneakers on her best friend’s lap, as what lingered of her inner tomboy had refused to wear heels. Their heads conspiringly close like they were the only two in the room. Mulder must have said something funny, as her laugh rings out like a bell throughout the bullpen. Bill’s anger gives way to pure adoration, and it pains him even more.

“A séance, Dana?” he says gruffly, alerting them to his presence, “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,”

The teenagers quickly spring apart and have the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Sir, I’m so sorry this was all my fault, honest…” Mulder starts.

“Shut up Mulder, you didn’t twist my arm,” Dana cuts him off.

He shoots the boy a look so stern it would have had his quivering in their lifejackets, and he wisely shut his mouth. His well-trained daughter marches up to him, front and centre with her head held high, “I’m sorry, Captain,” she says, the apology is guarded, but she clearly means it.

Bill surprises them all by pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Daddy?” her voice small and muffled against his chest, “You’re not mad?”

“I’m furious, Starbuck,” he pulls away, keeping his hands firmly on her little shoulders, God she was still so little, her look so tender. She’d always known exactly how to wind him around her finger. “You are in a world of trouble. But right now all I just want is to get you home,”

Dana falls asleep against the passenger window on the ride home, and he tries not to look at her and think about his old friend’s warning. She was his daughter; she was his miracle. But sooner or later, the God’s he had prayed to would come collect their debts.

Winter 1994

Children rebel, they disappoint. They keep secrets and talk back. They run away from home and never call except for birthdays. Ahab had been like any other parent; always wanting what was best for his kids, but his kids had other plans. Dana had raged against the machine the hardest, and did the most damage to his bank account, throwing away her medical degree to cut up corpses for the FBI. They’d each ranted and bickered and slammed doors until Scully had paid for the training herself and had lived off toast and canned soup for a year, until Maggie had reached the end of her rope, pouring water over the coals and talking the heated redheads to just agree to disagree.

Her work was put permanently on the backburner, the two of them avoided touching the subject like a tender wound. He awkwardly brings it up after the last at the last dinner they would ever share, and she should have taken that opportunity to tell him about Mulder, but the gesture feels hollow. If telling him about the bureau had been hard, telling about Mulder would have near impossible, so she just… never did.

It was just a passing moment, but the lost opportunity was gnawing at her. It was far too late, the black and white images on the TV blurring into grey. She decides she’ll call and tell him first thing in the morning, as she gives into her exhaustion and falls headfirst into a dream.

It’s so familiar it feels almost like a memory. She wanders down the endless white hall, tiled floor cold against her tiny bare feet. She hears someone shout behind her, booming footfalls gaining speed. They never catch her; she always wakes before they do. She tries to run all the same, but her legs are made of lead, this time she makes it to the corner and runs into a girl. A girl with long brown hair and terror in her bright green eyes, Hands grab her from all sides, and she wills her eyes to open.

Without warning, the walls start to twist and convulse before disappearing entirely. Suddenly she’s thirteen and her Sunday school teacher is dead in her yard. She’ kneeling beside him covered head to toe in sticky black blood, screaming.

Scout says the corpse, his blue lips part and flies swarm out, He’s going to be ok

His lifeless eyes bearing into her soul, but she can’t look away as the dead man begins to sing.

…Happy we’ll be beyond the sea

And never again I’ll go sailing…

The scene changes once more in a lightning flash, the earth is covered in white. Her teacher is gone, and Ahab is there instead, standing at the end of the garden, staring at the butter-yellow flowers pushing through the snow. She approaches carefully, but he doesn’t look up. Daffodil’s don’t grow in winter He mutters to the ground, They’re going to die

“Dad?” He turns like a broken animatronic, his eyes empty and glazed, but somewhere deep inside flickered a spark of recognition, and his face crumples.

I’m sorry, Starbuck, he rasps, like the words physically pain him, I’m sorry…  

“Daddy, you’re scaring me…” she places a hand on his arm, but pulls it away quickly with a gasp; he was as cold as ice, tears turning to frost on his cheeks. The sight is so profoundly wrong that it stops her in her tracks. In all her life, she’d never seen her daddy cry. Before she can reach out again the wind begins to swirl as harshly as a hurricane, turning him to snowflakes and blowing him away.

Scully never knew when she was having a nightmare until she was awake. Until it was too late. Until it wasn’t a dream anymore.

She wakes with a song in her head, opens her eyes and sees her father.

She sees him for the last time.

…No more, no more, No more sailing…

[level3bird]

seven on sunday - 112

The Month of Sundays edition - 

1.  Long time coming - I haven’t written a SoS since February. That’s the longest stretch without writing since I began the much-ado-about-nothing enterprise. I already know this is going to be a long one, but, you know, that’s how it is. Read it or not. I’m cool with it. 

2.  Exit Houston - My plane took off from IAH at 10.15pm on Friday, the 25th of August. The rain of Harvey had just begun. I was in my own weird little space of wanting to get the hell out of Houston and back home to my husband and, simultaneously, feeling all the guilt of escaping last minute only to leave my daughters and grandchildren behind to face whatever Harvey was going to bring. Man, I had no idea. Fortunately, so very fortunately, my girls remained safe and largely dry, save Jordan’s bedroom ceiling sagging under the weight of the rain and rivulets of water cascading down her bedroom walls. (Hopefully they’ll get her back in her bedroom in the next couple of weeks. Until then her living room will serve as two rooms in one.) Both of my daughters and their partners and children were stuck in their homes due to all the water around them, but they emerged the lucky ones. They still have homes and belongings and their lives. Their partners still have jobs. Their children have not been traumatised. At the end of the day, I feel incredibly grateful and incredibly sad and every other emotion still. 

3.  The week before the rain - So, I’d gone to Houston in the first place to meet my new grandson Logan and to kiss Harper’s face off and to see my daughters and meet their partners. It was an ambitious undertaking spending only a week in the Bayou City, splitting my days between Baytown and League City, with the obligatory hour trip each way at least once a day, often twice. I was trying to be fair to both of the girls, spending time with new baby, spending time with the Goldfish, having time with Jordan and Whitster. I ran myself into the ground a bit and just as the jet lag was passing, it was time to get back here. I wouldn’t trade it though. Seeing them even for a week was worth the exhaustion. Hanging out with Harper and going with her to her first day of kindergarten, going with Whitney to her high risk OB and seeing my to be born grandson on high-def ultrasound, holding little Logan and singing all the songs to him that I sang to his mother. Priceless. 

4.  Emotional whiplash - Nevertheless, visits back to Texas are like navigating a minefield. There are too many memories and so much baggage on a personal level and then there is the guilt of being away from family and the weighty realisations that my grandchildren are going to grow up without me around. It is such a mix of giddy excitement in seeing them, a heart so full of love and a sadness that has no bottom. It is emotional whiplash and I’m not very good with it. That paradox of holding two opposing emotions at the same time. It wears me the fuck out.

One moment I am sat holding my precious new grandson and imagining such a wonderful life for him, the next I’m driving down the road where Quinn lived, the place where he visited unspeakable horrible things on me, then I’m passing by the apartment where Colin and I lived, the places where I bought my drugs of choice, then I’m passing my home group of CA and I’m having all the old craving feels at the same time. Before being able to get my head around them, I’m pulling into my eldest daughter’s driveway and am being greeted by the most beautiful granddaughter with the sweetest soul. Didn’t know whether I was coming or going. It is no wonder I tried to spend my way out of it or tried to eat enough tortilla chips and salsa, corn dogs, Blizzards, margaritas, fried shrimp and whatever else I could get my hands on to make it all go numb. 

5. Dead but not dead, maybe  - During the week, I also was able to spend about an hour and a half sat across a table in the food court of a near abandoned mall chatting with my youngest brother who hasn’t spoken to me in a decade. Talk about surreal. After a falling out where I didn’t even really know what I’d done wrong, he’d considered me basically dead to him.  And he’d been committed to it as anyone could be to anything. Regardless, every time I’ve been back since 2010, I’ve reached out to him. I love him and I miss him. I wish I could make things right. This is the first time he’s agreed to see me face to face. He’s still not interested in what he calls a ‘brother and sister friendship’, but he did take the time to tell me what his thinking was. I believe he’s still caught up in seeing me as I was ten years ago and that plugs him into how he was ten years ago as well. I think he still sees the worst of himself in me. Both of us addicts, both of us the product of a most fucked family. Before we parted ways though, he hugged me and gave me a kiss on my cheek and told me he loved me. He said he still doesn’t like me, but that he sees I am not the same person that I was in 2007. I’m still in the “don’t call me, I’ll call you” camp, but I think maybe there was a modicum of progress. I’ll take it. 

6. Stay here until I feel whole - Maybe it was the jet lag, maybe it was the leaving my kids again, maybe it was the exhaustion of going back to work the day after I got back, I don’t know what happened, but I’ve fallen in a bigly way. In that proverbial down on my knees kind of way. I’m at a loss to understand it myself. There have been tears, a flatlined emptiness, a sudden onset depression that has laid me low. I mean, I know it is bad when I’m attending AA meetings and listening to Ryan Adams’ Stop. My beloved husband, of course, has been my lifesaver. He’s still my lighthouse and my refuge and he still has the patience of a saint to tolerate me. He loves me in such a pure honest way that sometimes I can’t even deal with it. I know I don’t deserve it. As for my response to this bottomless funk, I’m going to rely on Saint Darnielle and “stay here until I feel whole again. I don’t know when.” I’m going to listen to The Mountain Goats and Ryan Adams and to Sarah McLaughlin singing The Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi, Robbie Williams’ She’s the One (for super special reasons) and maybe even Hillsong’s Broken Vessels. I’m going to keep hitting meetings and keep seeking equilibrium. I’m going to wait until I feel whole again. 

7. The things she carried - I took little to Houston, I came back with three checked bags filled chockers, Here is what I brought back from the US: Hostess Sno Balls (the blue ones), a box of Hostess Ding Dongs, six boxes of Lipton’s Extra Noodle Chicken Noodle Soup mix, Cheez-its, graham crackers, PayDay candy bars, two boxes of Tapioca, my favourite deodorant, a new purse, Excedrin, Melatonin, Ibuprofen, shampoo and conditioner, multiple cans of Static Guard, Rotel tomatoes and green chilis, vigil candles (Our Lady of Guadalupe x2, St Michael, and a Sacred Heart of Jesus. I’m neither Catholic or Christian, but they make me feel better.) I brought back a witch candle that smells of smoke and amber, a shit ton of chapstick in flavours not found in nature. I brought back several books, a few notebooks, a list of things I want to pick up next time. 

I brought back some guilt and some hope, a lot of love and memories and some regret and a heavy heart full of sadness and longing. I brought back an eagerness to be home with my husband, a wanting to be home where I belong. I carried home a much lighter bank account and a heavier debt load, but I was able to leave behind a little girl with a closet full of new school clothes and a daughter with things for her new baby that she’d never be able to afford herself. I left behind cash enough to see them through the storm that we didn’t realise would be as bad as it was. I left bits of myself, I brought bits home. 

I carried home the weight of the world and a collection of all my attendant shortcomings. 

Needless to say, my baggage was heavy. Is heavy. 

LQoT 

[callsignbaphomet]

I kind of want to write it myself but I have to go to work, so I'm going to give you 34 because it is the corniest thing I've read all day.

34. “These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

He was tired, worn out and even if he didn’t want to admit it he was pretty sore. It’d been a long time since he’d been fucked like that. Last few times he was sober enough to recall were quickies behind whatever building was the closest to vaguely hide behind. He was sure he and whoever was with him had been caught numerous times. Not exactly something he felt any shame about, not when the audience were chem infused, alcohol fueled raiders who did the same or worse if some of the stories were to be believed. While the drug-infused anonymous sex in public was a way to scratch an itch, so to say, the excitement of it all died down rather quickly and he soon came to find that it wasn’t exactly satisfying. Especially when he could recall some partners either finishing too fast, not being able to even stand on their own two feet or after two to three thrusts they couldn’t keep themselves hard enough to finish which led some to threaten him if he ever said anything. The threats themselves made it all the more hilarious for him, it was even more hilarious when he’d dispatch the juicy little detail to certain people who were known to never shut up about gossip.

This was different. This was far better than the last several times he recalled. Even better was the fact that he was able to lie down next to him and when he’d put his arms around him and pulled him closer he thought he was going to squeal. He shifted his eyes to see his arm sticking out from under him while his other arm hugged him. He stared at the palm of his hand and slowly moved his own hand towards it. He touched his palm with the tip of his fingers and gently drew circles in the middle. After a while he was suddenly startled when he closed his hand around his, prompting him to turn around. He was met with a set of sleepy blue eyes and a small smile staring back which caused him to smile back.

“Sorry, J, didn’t mean to wake you.” Angelus whispered.

“Just had my eyes closed, that’s all. I thought you were asleep.”

“Uh-uh.” Angelus said as he nuzzled up to Jelani. “I don’t know, can’t sleep.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” Angelus whispered. He opened his eyes and saw the stitches on the right side of Jelani’s neck. A few more inches and the bullet could have hit an artery but he quickly shook his head as to avoid thinking what could’ve happened instead of being grateful that they got out alive though a little battered.

Angelus ran his finger across an older scar on Jelani’s jaw and out of curiosity asked, “How’d you get that one?”

“Hmmmmm, knife fight with some drunk idiot.” Jelani chuckled as he remembered the fight, “Funny thing is I actually didn’t feel a thing when he cut me but once the Psycho wore off I bitched and cried for an hour about it.”

“That’s Psycho for ya.” Angelus blurted out as he laughed. “Great when it’s in your system but once it’s gone you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

“Hey, so what about you? What happened to your back? It’s covered in scars.”

“The one time I did something nice for someone else I almost got killed. You remember that girl I introduced you to? Ginger?”

“From the lighthouse? Yeah. She’s nice.”

“Well, she was on her way back home when she and her party got lost, they’d recently moved to the lighthouse and were in short supply of practically everything so they’d gone out to search for stuff to bring back. Unfortunately they ran into a yao guai and she was hurt pretty bad and I have no idea why but I ran over to help. I don’t really remember too much but when I came to she grabbed my gun and emptied the entire clip on that thing’s head. Was kind of badass. I passed out again, blood loss, and came to at the lighthouse. Been friends since. Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“What about the ones on your arms? The ones on your right arm look fresh.”

Jelani remained silent as the question registered. Normally he’d tell anyone who asked about those specific scars to piss off or that it was none of their business, but he didn’t want to seem cruel though at the same time he thought that if he told him the truth he’d think he was some demented freak and would push him away. For a while he analyzed his options and carefully constructed an answer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lie, the scars were almost perfectly aligned and the cuts were clean. It was obvious that he hadn’t gotten them from a fight or from some wild animal.

“It’s…just something that happens once in a while. It’s better if we don’t talk about it; I wouldn’t even know how to explain it without–”

“Without sounding like a freak. I get it. I had a friend who did the same after his wife died. He said that it hurt but it didn’t hurt as much as what he was feeling.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“I’m sorry, J.”

“It’s fine. So what happened to this friend?” Jelani asked as to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Oh, well, believe it or not one day he ran into an old abandoned farm outside the Commonwealth and said he wanted to farm the shit outta it. From raider to farmer. I laughed so hard I thought I’d pissed myself but he was serious about it. Started growing crops, expanded the farm, hired some people and took it easy from then on. He wanted me to go along with him but nah, farming is definitely not for me and give up this freedom to wake up at dawn to tend to plants? Hell, no. I do miss him. Had a really thick accent like you. Well, not exactly like yours. Yours is really weird–not that it’s bad! It’s just you know, unique. He actually taught me how to speak Spanish just so we could share info and no one would be the wiser.”

“Wait a sec. You know Spanish?” Jelani amusingly quipped. He always found it fascinating when others knew some other language besides English. The fact that that friend had an accent as well felt like a relief after a childhood of other kids making fun of his.

“That’s right, papi.” Angelus chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Jelani. “What about that weird language you sometimes mutter to yourself, what the heck is it?”

“Well, my father’s family had a habit of keeping track of their ancestors from before the war. If you ask me I think it was their way to cope with dealing with life as it is now. So my father could trace his family back from before the war. Apparently five years before the war our family moved from some other country into Minnesota. We lost track of what that country was along the way but we know they spoke this language called Norsk and they’ve been passing it on ever since. I learned that one before I learned English so that’s why the accent plus he had the same accent and when I was really little my mom wasn’t home too much so I learned to talk, read and write from him.”

“Why wasn’t your mom around too much?”

“She was with the Brotherhood of Steel and every time they got close she went off to throw them off her trail. There wasn’t any NCR activity in the Capital so my dad had nothing to worry about. But the Brotherhood didn’t take too kindly to her going AWOL so she ended up on their shit list. I guess she dealt with them because after I turned four she was around all the time.”

“I didn’t know you were from the Capitol. What about your parents? They still there?”

“They died when I was five.”

“Wait a minute, how did you–”

“My brother looked after me.” Jelani answered in anticipation to Angelus’ follow up question. “He did the best he could but he was only fourteen when our parents died. It was really hard at first, their deaths hit him pretty hard and even though they left a good amount of caps hidden away it only lasted for a few months. After that my brother tried to find anything he could do to earn caps for us but sometimes there wasn’t really much people would ask a fourteen year old to do. He tried to hide it but I know he lied a lot about how bad things were at times. Most nights he wouldn’t eat so I could and he’d lie but I knew he would go days without eating so that I wouldn’t go hungry. If he was sick he’d save the Stimpaks in case I got sick. So as I got a little bit older I learned to steal shit to bring it home, there was no way I was gonna watch my brother kill himself for me.”

“God, that sounds horrible.”

“It was. I think he knew I was stealing stuff but he didn’t have any proof. What was he gonna do, keep inventory? Plus a friend of the family would check in on us. It was this really old ghoul named Sunniva. She’d come around every few months to check up on us but when she found out our parents died she stopped by every month with supplies so I kept the stealing down to only when it was an emergency. Things got a hell of a lot better when he was able to pass as an adult and joined up with a group of mercs called Talon Company. I don’t think he liked doing some of the stuff he had to do. Some nights he came home, washed up and went to bed without saying a word but I could hear him crying.”

“Anyway, after a while he and I decided to move out of the Capitol. We had the caps, the supply and gear for a really long trek so we just left. Those were the best months of my life. He’d mapped out several routes we could take to get to New Vegas and he’d let me choose which one we were taking that day. It was amazing, we’d stop to explore ruins, he gave me every Nuka-Cola and gumdrops he’d find along the way and there was this huge library and he let me take as many books as I could carry with me. So at night we’d find a good spot to spend the night in, eat some dinner and we’d spend a few minutes outside just looking up at the stars and right before bed he always read a bit aloud to me. I preferred to do it myself but it was great just hearing him talk for a while.”

“New Vegas, huh? I heard that place was fucked because of the NCR.”

“Sorta. Anyway, we stayed there for a while until we got in trouble with the NCR.” Jelani laughed as he recalled the confrontations which were dangerous but for some reason he and Loke never took them seriously. Maybe they liked to lash out at lesser threats to feel some sense of power since the Legionnaires were always on them and giving them a hard time. Of course Jelani left out the small fact that the reason they ended up running from the NCR was because they killed six of their veteran rangers over a petty squabble that escalated due to short tempers and massive egos.

“After the NCR put out a “shoot on sight” on us we decided to leave. We heard a few caravans were headed to Boston so we were hired by one to get them across safely. It wasn't…” Jelani’s voice began to quiver as he recalled the last weeks he spent with his brother.

Angelus caught on to the change in his voice and quickly looked up to see him. He didn’t say anything to Jelani especially when he saw tears silently running down his face, he just hugged him a little tighter and nuzzled his nose against his throat.

“Um…” Jelani gasped as he tried to catch his breath while trying desperately to hold back his tears. “He…he died and it was my fault. He was all I had and he’s dead because of me. I picked the route and we walked right into a deathclaw nest. He told me to get everyone far from the nest and I did but I went back for him. He was standing in the middle of a rope bridge with the deathclaw near him. I panicked and shot at it so it turned around and was walking towards me. He cut the ropes holding the bridge together and they fell. I watched him fall and I stayed there for days hoping that he was okay and that he’d come back but he never did–I killed him–”

“No, hey, J, listen to me!” Angelus said as he cupped Jelani’s face in his hands and while looking right at him he continued, “You couldn’t have known there was a deathclaw nest there. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was!”

“No, it wasn’t! Look, clearly your brother loved you. He loved you enough to face off against a deathclaw for you. Do you honestly think he’d want you to blame yourself for what happened? No. You said so yourself, he looked after you and cared for you. He put aside any selfishness and even his own needs to take care of you because he loved you and didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Okay? Don’t do that to yourself.”

Jelani went quiet as he slowed down his breathing. He still felt an immense guilt over what happened that day but in an odd way what Angelus had just said made sense. Blaming himself wasn’t going to solve anything, it only led to him mutilating himself and playing with the idea of killing himself, none of which was going to bring Loke back and in the end his death would’ve been in vain.

“Come on,” Angelus whispered while wiping away the tears, “Don’t cry, hon. Those pretty blue eyes look best when they’re shining like stars.”

“Okay.” Jelani said as he finally smiled.

“Well, actually, these stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

As soon as Angelus said that both of them stayed quiet for about a minute staring at each other and suddenly both of them burst out laughing. Once they were able to calm their laughter Angelus covered his face with his pillow but Jelani lowered it to find him blushing over what he had just said.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, my god, I don’t fucking know. I heard this drunk idiot say it at the cafe and I don’t know why I just remembered it and blurted it out. That was so weird!”

“Nah, it was cute but kinda weird too.” Jelani hugged Angelus and pulled him closer until they were both body to body. Jelani then looked past the cloth dividing the makeshift bed in the small camp, he could see the sky behind the Nuka-Cola Bottling Plant getting lighter across the horizon. Neither of them had slept but he didn’t worry about it. They had nothing planned for the day and it was fine by him if they spent the entire day sleeping together.

“Hmm, it’s almost sunrise.” Jelani yawned.

“That’s fine. The world can go fuck itself, I just wanna stay like this with you.”

“Jeg elsker deg.”

“I love you too.”