#oh and instead of removing her insanity or whatever nonsense people come up with

[gh-0-stcup]

New concept: a souled!Dru who's like. actually pretty okay with it.

[know-the-way]

I know it’s really stupid of me but I was kind of hoping for a redemption arc for Faustus. 😅😢

It’s not stupid, not at all! It’s natural to want to see the best in people, particularly when you believe they can be better than what they are now, so it’s completely understandable.

And, ya know, if the show gets picked up - he may have one yet still, we don’t know!

To me, this season really highlighted what the purpose of Faustus’ character is supposed to be, imo. Thinking of episode 4, we’re shown three different levels of corruption through three different characters.

The first is Harvey. Pure, sweet, golden boy Harvey is revealed to have some deep-seeded hatred of witches. Does he have any reason to hate witches? Well, let’s check - he lost a brother, got manipulated, controlled, and lied to by his first love, and has been in an endless cycle of extreme danger for the past year of his life. I think it’s fair to say we all understand that prejudice is not okay, but is it equally understandable why Harvey has some hang-ups about magic and witches? I personally think it is. (Not to the point of joining a literal witch hunt or angrily accusing your distressed best friend of killing your dad at her 17th birthday party 🙃, but understandable nonetheless.)

I personally think the intention with Harvey’s character being a cadet in Blackwood’s army was to demonstrate how, even when we believe someone to be morally good and just, they can become someone else when they endure pain and that pain is never properly addressed.

Did Sabrina apologize to Harvey for everything that happened between them? Yes. But did she repeat the same troublesome behaviors in different ways after that? Also yes. She didn’t demonstrate change in her actions, and a loootttt more happened with Harvey and the witch world in a negative way beyond his relationship with Sabrina, so the mistrust he feels isn’t entirely unjustified.

Then - “oh wow, oh my God, my second love has also hid being a witch from me, can I catch a fucking break here? Why should I ever trust another witch in my life?”

Answer: because they are humans, none being wholly good or bad, and they love you.

Roz talks to Harvey, tells him she believes he’s good, and demonstrably proves her own “goodness” by sacrificing herself to save others at Dr. C’s. Roz shows Harvey that she means what she says and her feelings for him are real - that she is a scared, broken human like him, just trying to do her best with what life has given her. Hence, when the moment of truth comes - Harvey remembers his humanity and proves his own “goodness” by saving her. But if Roz had never spoken to him, never acknowledged what he’d been through and that his feelings were valid... if no one had ever truly cared about his pain? It seems apparent that Harvey would have continued down a very dark path.

Which brings us to...

Mary. Mary has been literally murdered, had her identity hijacked by a demoness, her fiancé is dead, she doesn’t remember several months of her life, and her previous favorite student is a witch who has seemingly performed magic more than once on her.

Mary has every right to fear witches at this point. She has had zero trustworthy interactions with the witch world and from her perspective - her entire life has been stolen and no one cares. No one checks in on Mary, no one validates her pain, and as a result - no one in the witch world seems to have any compassion, humanity, or kindness in them. Enter the Pilgrims of the Night, who recognize her pain and fear without even knowing her, acknowledge it, and offer her solace in their congregation on the basis that her experience with witches is shared by the Reverend Lovecraft and his flock.

They prove themselves to her when the advice the Reverend/Faustus gives her (“let the dark in”) saves her life. My God, someone finally seems to care if she lives or dies!

People who care about others are good, so the church and the reverend’s mission must be good, too. Therefore, she is absolutely invested in whatever is asked of her and will blindly follow their lead in order to protect others from experiencing what she has. To me, Mary in the perverted universe represented the crossroads of corruption - where you truly believe what you’re doing is the right thing, even if it hurts others because those “others” have hurt you... and they will surely hurt again if you don’t stop them.

However, I think if Mary was finally told the truth - the full truth - and Lilith herself apologized for being the first piece in the puzzle... along with all the other witches... AND they showed that they actually cared about her well-being... Mary could find her way back through forgiveness. Or, at the very least, she could understand and process everything so that she could find a way to heal that doesn’t involve persecuting others.

And now, there’s Faustus. We aren’t entirely clear on Faustus’ history altogether, but we do know he’s had many experiences of being slighted by the churches of darkness (despite following the rules to a T).

He was rebuked by Edward for wanting to marry Zelda after mentoring him for who knows how many years, lost the office of high priest to him, and when he finally gets the title - here comes Edward’s self-righteous brat to fuck him over again. There he is trying to carry out the Dark Lord’s request to get Sabrina to sign her name in the Book of the Beast, even though she insults their doctrines and faith at every turn, and the coven and academy he’s had working like a well-oiled machine for the past 16 years is being slowly ripped apart. Why is the Dark Lord allowing this? Why is he having to endure a meddlesome child’s antics? Why is he not being rewarded for doing exactly as he’s been asked and returning the Church of Night to stability after Edward nearly destroyed it altogether? Like hello Dark Lord, can you throw me a fucking bone here?

Small victories - he finally secures Zelda’s hand in marriage and an audience with the anti-pope. This is what his life should’ve looked like two centuries ago, but no matter. He’s correcting it all now and by Satan, nothing is going to stop him this time.

But then...

Oh cool, Sabrina is here to intervene again and has presented the text of his old rival for consideration along with his (clearly superior) manifesto. What’s that, you say? Oh, she’s also gonna crash my wedding, accuse me of murder, and spread claims about my manifesto without having even read it? Wow, ahaha, sounds hilarious... except why am I not laughing?

He arrives in Rome and gets an inkling that the Dark Lord may finally be taking action about this heretical little monster because he’s offered the title of anti-pope by the unholy high council themselves. Finally, some appreciation! He just needs to hang on a little longer, eliminate these small meddlesome threats, and soon he will reside over a peaceful kingdom far removed from anymore mortal nonsense.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you mean Sabrina convinces the council he’s unfit to be anti-pope? This is bullshit, man! You know what? Fuck this place, I’m gonna make my own damn church and ensure no other headstrong witches like Sabrina Buzzkill Spellman can ruin it. That’ll finally return things to ord- MY WIFE KEPT MY OWN CHILD A SECRET FROM ME?! WHAT THE FUCK?! Alright, that’s it, The Spellmans are clearly here to poison others (ironic foreshadowing) - time to wash my hands of them completely, I am so over thi- what’s that? The Dark Lord’s here? GOOD. About time this asshole showed up to set people straight and remind them that the values of his unholy church, which Faustus has exemplified perfectly, must be respected.

You mean for me to bow down to whom now? The halfbreed brat who has been directly and willfully wreaking havoc on the congregation he’s patiently and painstakingly lead back to greatness? Are you fucking serious, m8? No. Absolutely not. No. I’m getting out of here, and since I won’t have the little twat poison anyone else, I will literally poison them instead. Be free, sheep!

It’s up until this point that I believe Faustus was still mostly at the crossroads stage, same as Mary. He believed everything he was doing was the right thing, based on the teachings from the religion he devoted his entire life to, and that he’d be rewarded for serving the Dark Lord so faithfully - until the Dark Lord proved several times in succession that his religion was all a lie. That three+ centuries worth of groveling and abiding and waiting has meant absolutely nothing.

So now we have the Eldritch terrors. Beings more powerful than the oldest gods. He spends 15 years isolated in a time bubble purifying himself, devoting everything to them, and won’t it be so glorious when they welcome him into his ranks? He’s set them free now, after all, they owe it to him.

But doing the same action over and over and expecting a different result is what? The definition of insanity, friends. Of course the Eldritch terrors reject him, too... of course Sabrina gains their attention and veneration instead... of course he should have tried to seize their power for himself a long time ago... so, fuck it all, he’ll do that now. There is no right and wrong, there is no observed justice - if there was, he would have been rightfully recognized for all the time, effort, and pain he’s endured only to receive nothing in return.* No one ever acknowledged his pain... no one ever even considered it. Over time, that takes its toll.

(*Clearly, I mean this to be from Faustus’ perspective and not my own.)

Of course, he has inflicted more than his fair share of pain himself and I am of the personal belief he needed to pay for that, but... equally imagine being hurt over and over and watching those who did it walk away, not only without reprimand, but with the belief that they were right and just to do it? Could it slowly drain on one’s soul to watch the rules apply to some and not others? Debatable, I suppose, but I personally think yes.

So... I say all of this only to point out that there is still potential to acknowledge his pain. And thus, there is imo still potential to understand, communicate properly (I am very interested in any conversations he and Sabrina may have had during their training - I know he said she took a vow of silence, but clearly some talking occurred for Sabrina to learn so much about the void from him), grow, and finally - for him to be given the chance to repair everything he had a hand in breaking. It wouldn’t be an easy or painless task to get to that point, and no one would be faulted for not trusting him to do so, but I think there is potential for it. If they get picked up and they want to finally allow the characters some time to reflect and process shit, they could include Faustus in that.

[swtorramblings]

The Last Gunslinger of Zakuul: Riffuze

The Gunslinger and Cassie are taking a short break from their work. They really should know better.

Chapter List

She was speaking with Cassian while walking to their favorite bar on Nar Shaddaa. They didn’t ask questions, didn’t throw out the droids. Just gave them energy packs. That’s when she sensed it and jumped away. Cassian wasn’t so lucky, but it didn’t matter, she shrugged off the explosions handily. The attack had been aimed at Vaylin.

Cassian, unfazed, unfolded her shoulder launchers and prepared a volley of her own. She was surprised Vaylin hadn’t returned fire before her, so she refrained for the moment. Vaylin looked at the blackened spot where she had been standing. That would have hurt. She started scanning for the attacker. Something felt off. She’d fought before against foes that attacked without malice, for whom fighting her was a matter of business or duty or whatever motivated them. This did not feel right, and she hesitated to fight back. Then she saw more missiles coming toward her. Focus, Gunslinger. She almost jumped away from the attack, but something told her that would be a mistake. She had already done that once, whoever it was would be prepared. Instead, she filled her hands and blasted the small missiles before they could reach her. Then, when the debris had spread a certain distance, she folded her arms over her head and leaped forward, through the explosions and shrapnel and smoke. She tucked and rolled in midair, landing next to the attacker. She grinned at the helmeted face, her foe recoiling in surprise. The surprise didn’t last long, and the wrist mounted missile launchers were quickly coming around. Before they could fire, she raised her blasters and said, pointedly, “I wouldn’t.” No launches. Shortly, the figure spoke, the voice electronically garbled. “Why not?” “You saw what I just did. Do you think that I can’t do that here? Or that I won’t escape the result? Because I don’t think you will.” There was a pause. The arm began to lower, but then a pulse erupted from the armor, sending her flying. Missiles were launched again. She’d given fair warning, and fired one blaster, leaving explosions in her wake. The other hand fired a light grapnel from the wrist, rapidly pulling her out of harm’s way. The figure regained balance. The wrist launchers appeared to be damaged by the explosion. Also, there was some damage to the helmet where some shrapnel had impacted, and it was removed and cast aside.Beneath was the dark red skin of a Sith Pureblood. Vaylin stared. A Sith bounty hunter? Did that even happen? No time now, she fired once more, aiming for the head. The Sith activated a shield, deflecting the bolts, and fired back with a blaster pistol. She jumped forward again, rolling in mid air, firing multiple blasts at the ground in front of him. The blasts were powerful enough to send debris smashing into him, not doing any real damage but driving him back towards the edge of the platform. Where Cassian had said to drive him. She had been climbing towards them since shortly after the fight had started, and had finally reached the top. She rose up behind the Sith, grabbing the wrist with the attached shield and squeezing until it sparked and died. He tried to bring the blaster to bear, but she took that wrist as well. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a distraction, and he fired an electrical blast, temporarily disabling the droid. He heard a click. He wasn’t the only one that could use misdirection, it seemed. He dropped his blaster. He didn’t know what had been attached to his armor. He did not want to find out. The voice coming from behind him was very even, but obviously angry. “Very wise. I hope you were also wise enough to have not harmed my friend, there.” Friend? He thought. “Do you mean the droid?” He imagined he could hear her teeth grind. “Yes, the droid. Is she hurt?” He had been told she was unstable. Did she care about the machine? Luckily, he could honestly answer, “No, it’s temporary. I imagine it hurts, but there are no lingering effects.” “Fine. Who hired you?” “You can’t expect I’ll tell you that.” “I might kill you if you don’t.” “You might kill me if I do. Why would I?” “Why would I kill you if you cooperated?” “Because I shot rockets at you isn’t reason enough?” She had to let out a short laugh at that. “People do that to me all the time. I don’t hold grudges. Well, not if they only do it once.” “I’ve seen your record. You don’t leave many people to have grudges against.” She looked down. “No, not as many as I’d like, anyway.” Finally, the sparking coming from the droid stopped. “Reorienting,” she said. “Oh, good, you were telling the truth. Good for you.” Cassian continued, “Vaylin. I apologize. I should have been prepared for that.” “You can’t always be prepared for everything.” “That is my purpose.” “Later. All right, you won’t tell us who hired you. So, I’ll guess. You think I will kill a defeated and, hopefully, helpless opponent.” Cassian had been going through his gear, disabling various small devices installed in his armor. Finally, she had nodded. “Your employer probably said I was mad or something. You were given some information about my abilities. You were trying to kill me, not capture me. And you established a location to attack us from before we knew where we would be. So, you were probably approached by a small group with very pale eyes. Yes?” He sighed. “You are quite perceptive for a madwoman.” Cassian broke in over Vaylin’s communication gear, inaudible to the Sith. “Records show that this is most likely the bounty hunter Riffuze. He has actively rebelled against the Sith hierarchy, and has been known to act against the Emperor’s interests.” Vaylin forgot herself and said out loud, “Oh, very good.” Riffuze very reasonably asked, “What?” She grinned at his back and deactivated the small bomb. “Nothing. I just think we could be friends.” “What, because you deactivate your device once your servant has disarmed me?” “Look, let me make this very clear: stop treating Cassian like a menial. I don’t like that.” “Are you sure you aren’t insane?” She spun him around and grinned up at him. “Not at all.” He looked into those orange eyes and almost lost his nerve. “Fine. I will treat this Cassian better. Why would we be friends?” “Because you hate the Emperor. And you clearly don’t know who you’re working for, or who I am.” He just lifted an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. “Your employers are a group called the Scions. Prophets of Zakuul, believers in destiny, one of the most annoying orders in the galaxy. They work for the Eternal Emperor of Zakuul, who has ruled for hundreds of years, but frequently becomes distracted for long periods of time. Remind you of anyone?” “What? That can’t… What is this nonsense?” “Oh, believe me, it’s not nonsense. His stink is all over your Empire, also. He thinks of it as his dry run. The Eternal Empire of Zakuul is his end game. The empire that will some day spread through the Galaxy.” She paused, looked away. “And I’m afraid that he will begin soon.” “But it’s insane. He never exhibited that kind of power. Great power, yes, but how is it possible?” “I wish I knew. I think something changed. I don’t know what. We’ve all been lied to, your Empire, my Empire, the Republic, the fringes. I don’t know the truth.” He paused, going over what she had said. “Very well, you have every advantage, so I can believe your outlandish story might have some truth. In that case, who are you?” She smiled up at him again. “Me? I’m his daughter, the Princess of Zakuul, third in line to the throne if he should ever actually die. A circumstance I would very much like to bring about.” He felt as though he had fallen into the belly of the All Mighty Sarlacc. This just kept getting worse. “You want to kill the Emperor?” “Yes.” “Your father?” “Absolutely.” “Who has ruled two Empires for centuries and is believed to be all-powerful or close to it?” “Pretty much.” “Then you are right. I believe we can be friends. Allies, at least. And, you are insane.”

[like-bunnies]

Mistletoe and Rum - An Ichabbie Christmas ficlet

I just wanted to write something cute and short and fluffy for the holidays! 

Mistletoe and Rum by likebunnies

“This is the definition of insanity, Lieutenant,” Crane said as Abbie tossed him another pillow, gently hitting upside the head. He sighed heavily before he continued complaining. “How did I ever let you talk me into this?”

“Because you know as well as I do that it will be good publicity for the historical society. People will get a sense of what it is and will want to come back. Maybe spend some money. Maybe want to hold more events here. Besides, you look cute with a little meat on your bones,” Abbie said.

Crane shoved another pillow down his big red coat, trying to spread the padding around.

“An obese man shimmying down chimneys in the middle of the night. It’s more Christmas nonsense,” he said. Again. She had heard about Christmas nonsense a dozen times in the last hour. Thousands of times since the beginning of December. She was thankful he was too busy trying to get dressed to give her a lecture on everything wrong with Christmas. Maybe she should have found him a Grinch costume instead.

“This nonsense is for a good cause. The sheriff’s needed a nice, safe place to do their Christmas event for the kids and you have a nice place. Right across the street,” Abbie said. Even though she was with the FBI, she still had plenty of contacts with her old department. When they asked, she gladly offered up the archives for an evening.

“Yet that does not explain why I have to be the man in the red suit. I’m not nearly the right age… do not look at me like that… and I am nowhere near the right size for your modern Father Christmas.”

“Santa Claus. The kids are coming to see Santa, not Father Christmas and not some grumpy colonial dude in breeches,” Abbie said as Crane’s red pants started to slip down again. Even with his breeches on underneath, they were hard to fasten on his slender hips. She had pinned them as much as she could but they were still meant for a man twice his size.

He twisted around, pulled the pants back up again and somehow secured them. She hoped they would hold until the kids all got to tell Santa what they wanted and for them to receive their one present they were getting this evening.

Did she mention to Crane the part about the kids sitting on his lap and whispering in his ear? Surely he knew? He had seen enough of modern Claus to know that was part of the deal.

“You do understand what you have to do, right?” she asked Crane as she handed him the fake white beard for him to put over his shorter, dark one.

“I have to appear to be jolly.”

“That and hand the kids their presents and listen to each one of them as they tell you what they would like for Christmas. These kids don’t have a lot so their stories can get a little emotional sometimes but… what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Abbie asked.

“Am I going to have help with this?”

“Of course you are. Everything is all planned out. You just finish getting dressed and your helpers will meet you out there by the tree, okay?” she asked.

He nodded but did not look okay at all.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Crane was sitting on the velvety Santa Throne and feeling very panicked. A few adults were starting the gather the children around him and some of the youngsters were already in tears just looking at him. He had seen enough on the internet to know this was a normal reaction many children had to seeing Santa but still, they could wait until they had a chance to meet him first. Someone had set up a camera to take pictures and the bright lights made it hard to see anything past the circle of children.

Abbie had said he would have help with this but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. Where was the Lieutenant anyway?

“Hello, Mr. Claus. How’s it going?” he heard a familiar voice ask and he turned toward the sound. He was expecting to find Abbie dressed in her usual ‘officer of the law’ outfit but instead she was in a short green and white striped skirt with a green shirt and an adorable pointy red hat, all trimmed in a white ‘fur’ much like his outfit. The pointy hat matched her pointy shoes which had bells on them.  

“Are you one of my elves?” he asked, trying not to stare at her legs but failing. She had on red and white striped hosiery and he wondered briefly why this whole Christmas thing always seemed to involve stripes but he got distracted by her answer instead.

“I’m your only elf tonight,” she whispered and he raised an eyebrow at her. “We could only find one elf costume packed away and I drew the short straw. You should see how happy Jenny is right now.”

Abbie might have lost but Crane definitely felt as if he won. She was adorable as an elf. He was sure Miss Jenny would have made a fine elf but he’d rather have Abbie by his side doing whatever it was elves do.

As the night went on, he discovered that most of what this particular elf did was laugh at him when kids started screaming and to hand out candy canes when they were finished getting their gift and their photograph was taken.

He was thrilled when all the children had received their presents and he could finally exclaim that he had to get back to the North Pole. He and Abbie made their way to the historical society office and closed the door behind them. Abbie was commenting on how well he did with the kids while he was digging through the desk drawers, slamming one shut when he didn’t find what he was searching for.

“I wish I still kept a bottle of rum here,” he said, trying to pull the beard off as quickly as he could.

“Stop. I want to get a selfie of the two of us in our outfits,” Abbie said, pulling her phone out of somewhere on that tiny costume.

“We just had our picture taken about 200 times,” he said as he put the beard back in place.

“Yes, but not a selfie,” she said. She found the perfect angle for the two of them and snapped the picture. He looked at it briefly and shrugged.

“I look preposterous.”

“Says the man who once wore powdered wigs and by the way, now wears breeches to work every day,” Abbie said. She was typing in something on her phone and he was certain that the photo was being uploaded to somewhere.

“You should dress like that more often,” Crane said while she was distracted and Abbie gave him a wide-eyed stare.

“Like an elf?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I was suggesting that you… well, you do have very pleasant legs. All that running… they are… oh! You know what I mean!” Crane exclaimed before he got himself into more trouble. He pulled off his hat and white wig and tossed them aside followed by the fake beard.

“And you should wear the color red more often… you look good in it… no, you know what I mean… not red like a ‘Red Coat’ when you’re here working but… oh, I give up. Do you need help getting out of that?” Abbie asked.

“Maybe. Do you?” Crane asked in return.

“I don’t have another outfit on underneath mine so I’ll be an elf for the remainder of the evening. That should make you happy,” Abbie joked as she jingled the bells on her shoes.

“Not as happy as some mistletoe would right now,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly, and Abbie stopped jingling immediately.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

“Wouldn’t that be more Christmas nonsense?” Abbie asked. His cheeks were the now the color of his suit and Abbie was a bit stunned that he had even suggested such a thing. Or said it aloud.

“Some of the nonsense is fun,” Crane responded.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Abbie said.

“Sleigh rides. Hot chocolate. A warm fire. I have grown to appreciate that kind of Christmas nonsense,” he said with a shrug. “Gifts are wonderful. As is time spent with good friends. And I’ve always appreciated mistletoe.”

“Too bad we don’t have any,” Abbie said. It had been years since she had last had any hanging up. She had kind of given up hope that one day he would just kiss her for whatever reason. They had just saved the world or outrun a murderous jackalope. Anything would have been a good enough reason.

“That and the rum,” he said. He looked up at her, his blue eyes sparkling. “Wait! I remember where I hid some.”

Crane returned with two coffee mugs filled with rum and took a slow sip, savoring the taste. Abbie took a sip of hers and set it down. He looked at her again but now his eyes had grown darker. She was always mystified at how he did that. He finished his rum and put his mug down next to hers.

“Mistletoe and rum. Always moves things along,” Abbie said. She was still trying to figure out exactly what the hell was happening. Perhaps it was just the silly costumes or the holiday season but… did he really want to kiss her? Finally? He didn’t need booze or a parasitic plant for that. He just needed to get up the damn nerve to do it. “Let me help you.”

Abbie removed his huge plastic Santa belt and all the pillows fell out around their feet.

“Next year we really do have to find someone who fits in this better,” Crane said as the fluffy red pants slipped down again.

“Maybe you can join me and be an elf,” Abbie said, laughing at the thought of Crane in candy cane striped tights and jingling shoes.

“I don’t know if I have the legs for it,” Crane said.

“I don’t know about that. You have some pretty shapely calves,” Abbie said and Crane blushed again. The Christmas music had gotten louder in the other room as had the sounds of the children laughing. They must be playing a game. A far different game than the one going on in here. Maybe it was time to move this game along. She boosted herself up so she was sitting on the edge of his desk. “Come here, Santa.”

He looked confused but did go to where Abbie was now sitting. She put her hands on his face and drew him closer to her, her lips meeting his. It was just a short, sweet kiss but it was still a kiss. It was a sign that things would be going in another direction now. It would never be the same again and she was ready for whatever was next. She pulled him to her, snuggling her cheek against the fleecy warm coat. He pulled off her elf hat and cradled her head in his hand like he had done many times in the past. It was always comfortable and soothing. He was comfortable and soothing. But this time, it was just a bit different, too.

“Happy Christmas, Lieutenant,” he said. He gently lifted her face towards his and kissed her once more. Her heart began to beat faster and she grew dizzy. This was more intoxicating than the earlier taste of rum. More so than a whole bottle of rum.

Nothing else meant a thing. Holidays. People. Presents. The noise outside the door. None of it mattered except the feel of his body pressed to hers, his hands on her face, his mouth against hers seeking out more. She wanted to give him more but perhaps not here on the desk. Maybe at home. In front of the fireplace. Under the tree wrapped in cozy quilts. The kiss ended and she expected him to turn away or look a little embarrassed by what had just happened. He didn’t. Instead, he finally looked, dare she say, jolly?

“Yes,” Abbie said, looking at his rosy lips and darkened yet twinkling eyes.  “Happy Christmas to all… and to all a good night. A very good night.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^

The End

[linyi-is-dreaming]

Lost Feather - 05

EXO Chanyeol x Y/N

Summary: Y/N was a guardian angel for a long time. She is secretly in love with another guardian angel whose name is Park Chanyeol. When Chanyeol was not paying attention to the woman he was supposed to take care of, everything went badly bad. The one he should have had protected killed Y/N’s one. The judge blamed Y/N for not taking well care of the one she should have had protected. Even though it has been Chanyeol’s fault. He was the one who never went to his boss to tell him that she should not be protected by anybody as she seems to be a very evil person. Y/N on the other hand took the blame and with that she lost all her power. The most painful was the removal of her wings. Now, that she lives a normal life as a punishment, she tries her best to handle everything as well as she can but the unexpected always happens when you least expect it. As she expects her new assistant, she finds Chanyeol in her office instead. Will she be able to forget to forget him or is she ready to move on?

CHAPTER 05

Junmyeon could not be any gladder as his shift is finally coming to an end. Working as a vet is stressful enough most of the time, even without having Chanyeol around. It was even harder for him as he had to remind himself that he is the only one who can see Chanyeol. Even when Chanyeol behaves mischievous every single time. Taking care of the animals whilst listening to their owners and having to make sure that Chanyeol is not doing anything to provoke the animals, has turned out to be even harder than he had imagined it to be. Only a wave with his arm in exhaustion is possible for Junmyeon, as he sees his receptionist coming into the exam room. Her jacket and her purse are in one hand as she waves back with the free hand of hers. Her face shows compassion as she takes a second to look at him before she starts to speak. 

“Mister Kim? Are you alright?”, she asks worried. 

“Uhm... Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”, he answers as he slides down on his chair a little more. “It has been a very busy day.” She nods at his words but his words are not really giving her the feeling of it being the truth. 

“Mister Kim, may I can ask you something?”, she wonders. Normally, she would keep her questions strictly business, but she could not help but wonder, if her boss is truly doing okay. Especially, as some people talked with her about his weird behavior today. They mentioned that he looked at a wall or a chair with a facial expression that parents would give their kids if they are not able to scold them loudly in that moment.  The weird behavior before their shift started, also stayed on her mind as she noticed that there was no phone near Junmyeon when he meant he was talking to someone on the phone. 

“Of course. Is something wrong?” She licks her lips nervously as she wonders if it would be okay for her to ask him what she is about to ask. For a moment, she says nothing as she takes a deep breath. Her actions are making Junmyeon nervous even though he is trying to not let it show. 

“Not directly. I mean, I know you are a very hard-working young man, but is something currently wrong? I do not mean to step on your feet with asking you this, but I am getting worried about you.”, his receptionist explains. 

“Yes!”, Chanyeol cheers as he leans his elbows painfully on Junmyeon shoulders. “She thinks you have gone insane. Tsk, you only have one employee and she thinks you are crazy. No wonder by your pale skin.” It takes a lot of willpower for him to not jump up just to throw a 'my face says it all'-look at Chanyeol. A deep long breath escapes Junmyeon’s lips as he moves his upper body to feel less pain which is caused from the elbows of Chanyeol. 

“Sir, your face... It looks like you are in pain. Are you alright?” Junmyeon nods as he leans forward quickly. As Junmyeon moves his body forward, Chanyeol loses his hold and trips to the side. Even though he tries to grab onto the chair, he misses the arm of the chair as well as Junmyeon’s arm. With the wind that Chanyeol body’s is producing through the small fall, a few sheets on Junmyeon’s table start to move. “Mister Kim, maybe you should walk away from your desk for a moment and just go home to rest.” 

“Nothing to worry about.”, Junmyeon says as he looks at Chanyeol who is just getting back on his feet. “It is nice to know that you are worried about me but I can promise you, I am doing just fine. I am just a little sleep deprived.” 

“Damn! I hit my head...”, Chanyeol announces loudly as he gets up. “That hurts! How can it hurt so bad? I should be immune to pain...” 

“Ugh, a spider!”, Junmyeon states as he steps with full force on Chanyeol toes. 

“Argh! Did you lose your mind? Is that some kind of revenge? My head hurts enough on its own, no need to step on my foot! What the hell is wrong with you?”, Chanyeol wonders as he pushes Junmyeon’s foot off of him. “That hurt even more!” A small laughter escapes Junmyeon’s lips as he watches Chanyeol checking on his foot. The worries in his employee’s face started to become more irritated than worried as she watches him laughing whilst his eyes look towards the floor where the spider was meant to be. As Junmyeon notices the changes on her face, he clears his throat and looks at her with a neutral facial expression again. 

“Like I said. I am only a little sleep deprived. A few hours of sleep and I will be doing just as good as I usually would.” 

“If you say so, Mister Kim. Have a nice evening!”, she tells him slowly with a smile as she leaves his room. Junmyeon hurries to the door to have a better possibility to hear her locking the front door. As he hears her locking the door, he turns back towards his office with a darken face expression. 

“What were you thinking?”, Chanyeol scolds as soon as Junmyeon turns around. 

“That was quick! Did you not just stand over there?” 

“I am in front of you now or am I not? So, how does it matter how fast I got to where?” 

“Good point.”, Junmyeon confesses as another sigh leaves his lips. “If you do this to me again, I promise I will flip out on you!” 

“What are you talking about? You stepped on my foot, if I am allowed to remind you on that.” 

“Every single damn thing that you have done today, Chanyeol! I am talking about every little thing that you have done all day long. Every single annoyance that you see as an alright thing to do, is driving me crazy.” 

“Aww, is the vet angry?”, Chanyeol asks teasingly. The longer Chanyeol laughs, the less happy does Junmyeon look like. The narrowed eyebrows and the darken eyes were already strongly visible but now he can even see the wrinkles on Junmyeon’s forehead. The laughter of Chanyeol is starting to disappear as he does not want to anger him a lot more. 

“You are really about to make me literally crazy, huh?” 

“Come on! It was fun. Two dogs have almost bitten you and the most cats in here wanted to rip off you face. Such a thankful job you’ve got there.” 

“Whatever. I do not have the time for a coffee-talk.”, Junmyeon says as he grabs his shirt from his bag. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To my patient’s home.” 

“To a patient? I almost thought you would go on a date...” 

“No. I mean yes. Yes, I have to drive to a patient home and not to a date.”, Junmyeon says as he puts on the t-shirt from his bag that he hid beneath his table. “I have to check on an animal and I have talk with its owner about a solution that I have found.”, Junmyeon explains as he packs his previously worn t-shirt into the bag. 

“Are you going to Y/N?” A long deep breath leaves Junmyeon’s lips once more as he stops in front of Chanyeol. 

“Wherever I go, please for the love of god, do not follow me.” When Junmyeon sees Chanyeol nodding with his hands up, he decides to get to the car before Chanyeol might follow. Chanyeol watches him leave as he looks up to the ceiling. 

“You might not want me there, but you can’t stop me from going there.”, he says calmly to himself with a smirk on his face. 

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ 

“Yes, I have a solution and I think you will be okay with that.”, Junmyeon explains on his phone as he closes his eyes for a moment to give them some rest. “Y/N, one more thing. Is it okay if I come over to check on the cat? No, you do not have come to the clinic. I am already in my car. Nonsense, that is a part of my job. Okay, I see you then.” As the phone call ends, he moves his arm to the passenger seat to drop his phone without looking to the passenger seat but before he can drop his phone, somebody grabs his wrist. “Argh!”, Junmyeon screams in fear. It took him a few seconds to notice that the hand on his wrist belongs to Chanyeol. 

“What are you screaming for?”, Chanyeol wonders amused. “Look at that woman. What must she have been thinking when she sees you screaming in the car at nothing?” Carefully, Junmyeon looks around to see how many people might have witnessed the situation. “Embarrassing... Isn’t it? Huh, even her baby is looking in your direction.” Embarrassed, Junmyeon lowers his head. As the urge to get away from the parking lot grows within him, he turns the key to start the motor.  As he drives off, he looks repeatedly at Chanyeol who is starring out of the window. 

“What are you smiling for?” 

“I just think it is funny.” 

“Everything is a joke to you... Typical you.” 

“Hey, not my fault if you do not even lock a car.” 

“You teleported yourself into my car! If I had locked it, it would have not helped much.” 

“I have not seeing you so angry since... Oh wow, that is long ago.”, Chanyeol comments as he realizes that he cannot even remember a situation in which Junmyeon had been angry at anything. 

“Have you not seen my facial expression all day?”, Junmyeon asks as he points at his own face. “What the hell do you want from me?” 

“I already told you. Be the messenger between me and Y/N.”

“I can’t do that.” 

“You can.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No. I can’t help you.”, he repeats slowly. 

“Yes, you can and you will.” Carefully, Junmyeon stops the car at the line in front of the red traffic light. 

“For the last time, no! Stop annoying the hell out of me. Just stop asking me to help you! Sorry, but if you need help, find someone who could help you.” 

“Who? There is only you.” “Just shut up!” 

“Make me then.” 

“Chanyeol!” 

“Oh, oh. That driver looks madly at you.” Chanyeol says as he points at the car behind him. “You should have not screamed at him...” As Junmyeon looks out the window to see what Chanyeol is talking about, he can see a big guy getting out of his car. This guy would definitely fit the type of drivers you do not want to mess with. “Oh, he is getting out of the car now. Junmyeon, I hope you got some ice at home. You will need it when he is done with you.” 

“I only screamed at you!”, Junmyeon explains as he sees the man walking to the back of Junmyeon’s car. “Make sure, you are protecting me for whatever will come next!” 

“What do you-” Chanyeol stops to speak in the middle of his question immediately as he realizes that Junmyeon is starting to drive over the cross road by red light. “Junmyeon! Dude! You are about to kill yourself!”, Chanyeol screams as he tries to grab onto whatever he could grab. 

“I said protect me, not scream at me! What are you holding on for?” 

“Stop yelling at me too! Do you want to die? Do you have a death wish?” Junmyeon starts to laugh as he made it safely over the cross road. “What is so damn funny?” 

“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 

“You are more human than angel. Shouldn’t you be at least more careful?” 

“You have no clue what I am, do you?” 

“I asked you, but you did not answer me...” 

“You still remember the nine orders of angels?” 

“I know my spot on it. Why?” Chanyeol eyes widen as he continues to look out the windshield. “Wait a minute.”, Chanyeol says as he looks at the grinning face of Junmyeon. “Did you...? No way!” 

“Uhm, yes and hell yeah!” 

“When did you become number eight?” 

“First of all, not yet. At least not officially, but I am damn close. They already informed me that it might happen soon.” Chanyeol’s eyes narrow as he stares holes into Junmyeon’s head. “Are you speechless or is there another reason that you look at me the way you do?” 

“I thought you meant you already are...” 

“I am in the testing phase. If I am doing well, I will be on rank eight and you will not destroy my chance, you got me?” 

“I already thought they kicked you out as you are working like a human...” 

“That is the damn test phase.” 

“If that is the test phase, why are you not allowed to use your powers?” 

“Chanyeol, that is part of the test! It is to see how long we can last without our powers.” 

“But those we know never returned after the testing phase...” 

“They had other plans than to come back and be on rank eight probably.”, Junmyeon explains. “But that is not the point. The point is that I could destroy my chances by helping you and your little love spark.” 

“Don’t call her that.”, Chanyeol says annoyed. “Y/N has a name.” 

“I can’t believe that you two are finally hitting it off. How long did it actually take you? It feels like forever that you said that the two of you will be an official thing one day.” 

“I think it took me like twelve years to even speak to her.” Amused, Junmyeon shakes his head to the left and right. 

“Since when do you know that you are in love with her?”, Junmyeon wonders as he sees the smile on Chanyeol’s face. 

“By all honesty, when she learned how to use her wings. I stalked her a little because I did not want to miss her smile.”, he explains with an even brighter smile on his face. “Everywhere she was, I was hiding behind something just to watch her. I never told her about me watching her secretly though. She will call me crazy if she does.” 

“Must be like hell to be apart again, huh?” 

“I hate it. I even told her, if I have the chance to go back, I would take it. But I said in the end, I will not take the wings back if she does not either.” 

“She was okay with you being a guardian angel again? Seeing it from her point of view I would have thought that she does not want you to be one again...” 

“She does not want to go be an angel again nor did she want me to one again...”, Chanyeol sighs as he plays with his fingers. “Our boss did not give me any choice. I want her to happy but I do not know if it would make me happy. She wants a family, Junmyeon. A family with kids. Me as a father... I really want to give her whatever she desires, but that is not me...” 

“Oh, wow. I did not know that you already discussed these kinds of things.” 

“How could I ever be a dad? I would not be able to be a father... I am not even feeling like an adult who could take care of such a small human...” 

“You should have it in you. I mean, the parent skill.”, Junmyeon says as he parks the car near Y/N’s apartment. “Every angel does, even you. I am pretty sure about it.” 

“But how do I lose the wings to get back to her? I did not even want those wings back anyway.” 

“Up to you. You know the rules.” Chanyeol takes a deep breath as he watches Junmyeon taking off the seatbelt. “But if it is so troublesome to you, I can make my humanity work and you can watch her raising my child instead.”, Junmyeon says mockingly with a wink.  

“I dare you to even get close with her!” Junmyeon continues to laugh until he is not able to open the car door. He tries it repeatedly, but every single time it feels like it does not work at all.  

“Chanyeol, what are you doing? Unlock the damn door.”  

“Who is laughing now?”, Chanyeol comments with a grin on his face. 

“That is not funny!” Chanyeol ignores him as he teleports himself outside the car.  

“Come on, Junmyeon! Just open the door.” 

“I swear I am going to kill you!”, Junmyeon screams as he tries to open the door again. Chanyeol turns his head to the right side as he hears some footsteps. “Open the damn door!”  

“Y/N.”, Chanyeol says breathless as a smile forms on his face. He watches how she comes closer to Junmyeon’s car as he would be in trance. “Hey Junmyeon, somebody is coming towards you.” His voice has not been loud enough to beat the loudness of Junmyeon’s voice. 

“God damn it!”, he yells. A knock on the passenger window makes him want to take a look why Chanyeol would knock on the window. “What?” As he turns over, he can see Y/N with her finger up as she was just about to knock on his car window again. “Hey Y/N!” 

“Are you alright?”, she asks through the closed window. 

“Yeah it is just the door is not working...” 

“The door does not work?”, she asks as she tries the passenger door. “Uh, that one is still working.” 

“At least his smile is gone...”, Junmyeon mumbles as he gets out of the car.

“I am sorry. What did you just say?” 

“Me? Nothing. I am just cursing at my car.”, he reassures as he climbs out of his car. “Thanks for opening it for me.” 

“Sure thing. The cat is doing better than yesterday, by the way.” 

“Glad to hear that.” 

“She has a very good appetite and seems to be able to walk and play only on three legs very well.”, she explains as they walk into the building.  

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ 

“Tell her I am here!”, Chanyeol repeats again whilst Junmyeon is checking on the cat. “Just say it!” Junmyeon shakes his head to response with a ‘no’ but Chanyeol seems to have none of it. “Please! Her bed smells like my perfume! My perfume is all over her bedroom. She must be missing me badly!”

“Is something wrong?”, Y/N wonders as she watches him shaking his head. 

“No, everything seems alright.” 

“If your friend is not able to correct it, will she be alright with just three legs?”, Y/N worries as she pets the cat’s head. 

“Cats can live very well with just three legs. I see no problem with that but we can at least try to save the leg.” 

“Can’t you just use your power, Junmyeon?”, Chanyeol asks as he steps behind Junmyeon. “You must have some kind of power to heal the animals, don’t you?” 

“Y/N, I am sorry but I would need to use your bathroom. Is it okay, if...?” Chanyeol narrows his eyebrows at Junmyeon as he turns to her. 

“Yes, of course. It is just around the corner. The first door on the left.”  

“Thank you.”, Junmyeon says as his eyes land on Chanyeol. He starts to walk towards the bathroom rather quickly when he notices that her attention is back on the cat. As soon as he is inside, he locks the door. “Chanyeol! Get here!”, he commands quietly. “Do not let me wait!” It took just a few seconds until Chanyeol appears in front of him. “What is wrong with you this time?” 

“Did you call me just to ask me if I something is wrong with me?” 

“No! I wanted to ask you for the last time to let me do my job without annoying the hell out of me!”, Junmyeon yells as quiet as he can. Chanyeol crosses his arms in front of his chest mockingly. 

“Are you finally ready to tell her?”, Chanyeol asks as he watches Junmyeon taking a few deep breaths. 

“I will not!”, Junmyeon whispers. “Stop getting on my nerves! Do you not have to watch over someone?” 

“We both know, that I will not stop and the only thing that could take me go away from here is if my protégé is suddenly waking up from his coma.” 

“Here is a deal for you.” Annoyed, Chanyeol leans in to hear Junmyeon better as he starts to speak quieter. “I will tell her another time but therefore, you need to let me do my job.” 

“Your job is to tell her.”, he answers coldly. “No disrespect, but I cannot wait any longer.” 

“No. Definitely no. Listen, my job is being a vet. Not being your personal messenger!”, Junmyeon hisses in a whispery voice. “Get a bird to bring her the letter or something...” 

“You know how long that takes.” 

“That is thankfully not my problem.” 

“Do I have to remind you that I helped you once? I was the one who dragged your ass into a safe spot just so that our boss would not see your drunk ass. I still do not understand how the alcohol was able to influence you...” 

“That was one time! How many times did I help you?” “Well, many times...”, Chanyeol confesses. Junmyeon moves his hand upward to warn him that he is about to slap him. “Okay, I see what you try to do. What if she hears the slap?” 

“Who said that I will hit you only once?” 

“But how do you explain it to her? How do you want to explain the sound?” 

“There is always another time, remember that, Chanyeol.” 

“Hey, if I did not save your ass back then, you would be in Y/N’s shoes.” 

“I do not care! Leave me alone!”, Junmyeon yells. As Junmyeon grabs the door, he notices that Chanyeol looked the door.

“She might think that you should never use your bathroom again if you are not able to open it...” 

“Stop this nonsense!”, Junmyeon screams uncontrollably loud. “Shit!”, he says as he leans his head against the door. 

“She is coming. Y/N is coming. Good luck!”, Chanyeol comments as he hears her coming. 

“I swear, if this door does not open soon!” As Junmyeon turns over, he sees that Chanyeol disappeared.  

“Are you alright?”, Y/N questions from behind the door.  

“Yes, uhm... It is just that...” Nervously, he looks around to find anything, just anything to have an excuse for being in the bathroom that long. Thankfully, he finds an excuse easily as he sees the hand cream on her washing machine. Quickly, he puts the lotion on his hand. The amount he uses is way too much to sink into his skin on time. “I usually put a hand crème on my hands when I washed my hands. I hope you do not mind.” 

“No, it’s fine. Can I come in?” 

“Yes, you can.” Just as Junmyeon thought, Chanyeol unlocks the door for her. 

“Oh, thank god.”, she says as she breathes out. With an irritated look on Junmyeon’s face, he turns to her. “I did not mean to say it like this... I thought that you might have dropped the hand creme.” 

“Oh, that no. I just took a bit too much from it.” 

“Happened to me before too.”, Y/N laughs. “I should change the handle... I think the knob is not a good idea after using some crème.” Junmyeon laughs along as he walks behind her as she walks back to the living room. 

“Just tell her! Junmyeon, just say that I am right here!”, Chanyeol screams as he jumps onto the couch next to the cat. At first, Chanyeol did not know why the cat started to growl at him until he notices that he sits on its tail. “Sorry, kitty. I did not see your tail. Please, calm down!” 

“Why are you growling?”, Y/N wonders as she steps closer to the cat. “There is nothing there...” 

“You know, some cats can feel souls or ghosts and those kind of stuff we humans can’t see.”, Junmyeon explains. Carefully, Y/N walks up to the cat to calm her down with some slow touches. 

“You mean lying angels like you!”, Chanyeol adds. 

“What I tried to say is,”, Junmyeon continues with a sigh leaving his lips as he speaks. “maybe something is freaking her out.” 

“I wonder what it could be... Maybe the flowers over there?” 

“Maybe.” 

“That’s a shame... My colleague gave it to me as an apology...” Chanyeol’s eyes become big as he starts to think about Jongin. Junmyeon looks away as he sees Chanyeol walking up to him. 

“You must figure out if they are from Jongin.”, Chanyeol begs. “Please! I will break his arm if it is him...” Junmyeon’s face starts to show the worry about Chanyeol’s plans.  

“Did he send you a card as well?”, Junmyeon stutters. 

“Yes, he did.”, Y/N answers as she starts to wonder how he knows that it would be a male who send her the flowers into her office. “How did you know that the flowers are from a male colleague?” 

“Huh? I just saw the card and I wondered who the lucky guy is.” 

“Lucky guy? You can call him whatever but only lucky that no woman has killed him until today.” 

“He is a player, worst kind...”, Chanyeol comments.  

“Well, funny that you say that... I read that by some names, you could tell if a man is a trouble maker. The names mentioned in the article were Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Jongin...” 

“Are you trying to tell me that your name Is written on the good guy-list?” 

“Do not flirt back, Junmyeon!” Junmyeon starts to smile as he steps closer to her. 

“If you like, I can take you out for a dinner. Maybe we can watch a movie in the cinema if you like.” Nervously, she takes the hair strand from her face and places it behind her ear. 

“Sounds like fun.”  

“Do you want to go right now?” 

“You want to go right now? I mean, you just came straight from work...” 

“If you want to go to an expensive restaurant, we might not get a table but if you like simple food, I know a spot to where I can take you out to.” 

“I still have to do my makeup and my hair...” 

“No, you do not.”, Junmyeon says as he puts his fingers threw her hair. “You will make turn heads anyway with your natural beauty.” The blush on Y/N’s face is instantly visible as she smiles to herself. 

“Alright. I will get my bag. I will be right back.” 

“Junmyeon!”, Chanyeol screams as loud as he could. As Y/N is out of their sight, Junmyeon turns to him obviously satisfied with what he had just done. 

“That was a little cheesy but it worked.”, Junmyeon confesses as he smiled mischievously. 

“What on earth are you trying to do here?” 

“I have my own techniques to annoy someone like you.” 

“Cancel it! Say that, that there is an emergency in the clinic.” 

“No, I will not cancel. I have not gone out in a while. It must be refreshing to do that.” 

“Okay, I got my bag.”, Y/N says loudly as she walks into the room. “I am ready to go.” 

“Perfect.”, Junmyeon says as he walks towards the door. Chanyeol watches how both of them are leaving the apartment. 

[pomegranate-belle]

Fic or treat - Matt and Foggy during that one Halloween ep of Spiderman where people turn into the monsters they dress up as for the night (doctor strange helps sort everything out if I recall correctly)

I guess this is a recurring Halloween Thing (Buffy, Halloweentown, and now apparently Ultimate Spider-Man) and honestly I love it with all my heart and soul. So this got... Long. Also I just sidestepped the actual plot of the episode because Baron Mordo sucks eggs and I don’t care about him, lol

—

Foggy’s still adding the last touches to his costume and hasn’t put it on yet — that’s the only thing that saves him. But the second a blast of orange light radiates across the city, he knows something fucked-up freaky is going down.

“Oh jeez,” he mutters to himself, watching through the window as the energy continues to spread like ripples on a pond. “Matty, you might wanna go get your other Halloween costume.”

There’s a groan of pain from behind him. Foggy whirls around.

“Matt, what—”

But Matt doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, more like. He’s staggering around, hands clutched to his head. Foggy has no idea if it’s a direct effect of the freaky magic flooding the city or if whatever that magic is doing is overloading Matt’s supersenses, but either way he can’t just stand by and let his boyfriend suffer. He rushes over and wraps Matt in a hug — takes as much of Matt’s weight as he can, tries to cocoon him so his senses have time to settle or acclimate or whatever they need to do.

“I got you,” he murmurs nonsensically. “I got you, Matty, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok, just breathe with me, buddy, just breathe—”

All Foggy’s reassurances are choked off when a clawed hand closes around his throat. He’s shoved backwards, into the wall, and Matt’s...

Matt’s gone.

In his place, the figure Foggy had been holding — that not a minute ago had been the love of his life — is otherworldly and terrifying. Its skin is cold to the touch, and flecks of gold freckle its face, creep down from its ears to the familiar arch of its cheekbones. It has Matt’s messy, dark hair but his eyes, still unseeing based on the way they don’t track, glow ice blue. It still wears the white tunic Matt had put on, but the cloth is clearly of finer quality. What was once a sparkly golden pipe-cleaner halo is now an aura of radiance so bright it makes Foggy’s eyes water. Oh yeah, and this thing’s got a pair of fuck-off enormous white wings instead of the tiny, goofy-looking faux-feather ones Matt had strapped on like a backpack not five minutes ago.

When it opens its mouth — Matt’s mouth — and speaks, the words are unintelligible and so powerful that Foggy instinctively stops trying to remove the hand from around his throat and claps his palms to his ears instead. He has an alarming thought — that he’s going to die here — and the very distant realization that Matt would be completely enraged about him giving up. But even if this... Angel. Thing. Even if it’s not Matt anymore, it was him. And Foggy has to believe the magic that changed him is going to be undone. There’s like a hundred fucking superheroes in Manhattan alone so like, it had god damn better be undone. And when it is, who knows if any injuries sustained will carry over? Foggy could never risk hurting Matt like that. He just couldn’t.

Jessica Jones does not have this problem.

Foggy learns that the second she comes bursting through the door of the apartment and discus-throws her unconscious vampire boyfriend right at Angel Matt’s unprotected back. Not that Foggy actually sees any of this — because, again, fuck-off big swan wings — but once he’s able to breathe again he’s also able to put the series of events together thanks to context clues. Flattened angel plus unconscious Hero of Harlem with an open, snoring mouth and especially pointy canines plus panting, disheveled Jess? The math’s not hard. He and Jess stare at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“You ok there, Nelson?” she asks at last, gruffly, before stepping forward to sling her enormous boyfriend into a fireman’s carry.

“Yeah? I’m good, I think. Mostly. Um...” Foggy points at the knocked out form of Luke draped over Jess’s shoulder. “How did you...?”

“Vulcan nerve pinch,” she says flatly, but doesn’t give Foggy the necessary space to determine if it’s a joke or not. “Now come on, you’re the one who knows every-fucking-body, who do we need to stomp to fix this?”

Good to know you saved me because you were concerned for my safety or something, Foggy thinks but is smart enough not to say.

“I don’t know who did it,” he admits, now that he has the time to think, “but that guy Strange who lives in the Village is supposed to be a wizard or something. Maybe it’s one of his baddies.”

Jess slams a fist into her open palm, murder in her eyes, then immediately has to break the pose to stop Luke from slumping onto the floor.

“Well he better fix it or I’m gonna kick his ass,” she insists, clearing her throat and straightening up again.

Foggy does not dignify this with an answer, and to further pretend he didn’t just witness Jess fumble Luke like a football he crouches down to check on Matt. He doesn’t seem to be unconscious, although at first it’s a little hard to tell based on the ethereal, retina-searing glow around his head. But upon inspection, the prone angel is in a pose Foggy knows well — Matt’s ‘I’m suffering and I refuse to move’ pose. Often adopted whilst sick or otherwise mildly inconvenienced, and never done while seriously injured. Which is good, Foggy supposes.

“Up and at ‘em, Matty,” he mutters, slowly and gently closing his hands around the angel’s and noting that Matt’s newly clawed nails are tipped in gold.

Matt gets to his feet without a fuss, just tilting his head to the side curiously. He sniffs. Once. Twice. Then flips their handhold so his fingers are circling Foggy’s wrists and pins him to the wall again. This time, though, instead of strangling him, he buries his nose in Foggy’s throat, sniffling at his pulse point like a weirdo.

“Hey! Murdock! Don’t make me come over there!” Jess snaps.

“It’s good, we’re good!” insists Foggy shrilly. “He’s um. He’s just. Sniffing me.”

“Fucking weirdo.”

But there’s no thud of Luke being used as a blunt weapon again, so at least she’s listening to him. After another ten uncomfortable seconds, Angel Matt pulls back. Slowly and gently, he lets go of Foggy’s wrists before combing the fingers of one clawed hand through Foggy’s hair. Then he smiles and speaks.

The expression, combined with the musical but incomprehensible words, is so beautiful that tears begin to streak down Foggy’s face. Angel Matt brushes them away with the side of his thumb.

Jess ruins the moment by groaning in frustration.

“Ok, we get it, gay love conquers all, can we get a move on before my boyfriend wakes up and tries to tear out my throat again?” she demands.

Which, to be fair to her, doesn’t sound like a great time. Matt’s wings flare angrily and he spits more crazy angel language at Jess that sounds like a threat, but Foggy is able to soothe him easily enough. After that, he tows Matt along by the hand like a particularly docile six-year-old and they set out without further incident.

—

The problem with having a huge city-wide curse fucking up everyone’s night is that getting a cab is impossible. On the bright side, Jess is one of the few people Foggy knows who actually owns a car. Then again, it’s usually hard enough fitting everyone inside that car without a potentially-murderous vampire and an angel with a fifteen foot wingspan to consider. They’re still trying to figure out the logistics when a horde of monsters descends upon them. Foggy counts two zombies — and there’s a frightening thought, are those guys contagious? — a werewolf, a ninja, and some kind of terrifying... Fish person. There’s lots of snarling, howling, and gnashing of teeth. Foggy really wishes he hadn’t been so preoccupied with Matt and had the foresight to grab his baseball bat on the way out the door.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got like, a tire iron in there or something?” he asks Jess as they’re backed up against her car.

“What do I look like, a mechanic? I’ve barely got gas in this piece of shit car.”

“Cool, great,” Foggy says, too strained to be as sarcastic as he wants since this is about as far from cool and great as it’s possible to get.

Then Matt squeezes his hand and lets go. Foggy scrambles to try and pull him back to safety, but his strides are long — too long for any normal human, like he’s gliding instead of walking. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing squarely between them and the monsters, and then he flares his wings wide enough to block them all from view. Foggy can still hear snarling, but he has to squeeze his eyes shut as the luminance around Matt ramps up about a thousand percent. There’s hissing, yelping, and the slap of feet on concrete, and the light turning the back of Foggy’s eyelids orange only fades after the sounds of retreat abate into silence.

“Holy shit, Murdock,” Jess mutters. “Maybe we oughta keep you like this.”

“Jones,” Foggy scolds. “Rude.”

He opens his eyes to find Matt now facing him as though waiting for something.

“What, Matty?”

“Fuck’s sake, Nelson,” says Jess, “he just saved our bacon — you gonna thank him or what?”

Matt continues to stare — for a certain value of stare, Foggy supposes — in his general direction expectantly.

“Um. Yes, thank you,” Foggy says, and probably because he’s gone completely insane, reaches up to pat Matt on the head. “You, um... Did good? Yes. Good job.”

Matt leans into the touch, beaming, and honest to god the expression is almost brighter than the glow of his halo. Jess makes a very rude gagging noise as she stuffs her still-snoring boyfriend into the trunk. Matt and his wings, even folded up, take up the whole back seat, so Foggy rides shotgun. With monsters of all shapes and sizes roaming the city streets, what would otherwise be a pretty boring car ride ends up feeling like a chase scene in Jurassic Park, but at last they make it. Foggy wasn’t a hundred percent on the address but Strange’s place is pretty hard to miss. It’s enormous and scary-looking and it’s got a big skylight in the shape of some round symbol that probably has magical significance.

There’s no answer when they knock on the door, except for a “doctor is out” sign that flickers into existence, along with a huge padlock — you know, just in case they weren’t getting the message. Foggy’s torn between being weirded out and being amused that the creepy mansion has a sense of humor.

“He’s not even home?!” Jess kicks the door, hard. “This is bullshit!”

She lets out a wordless, frustrated shout, and Luke startles awake. He’s on his feet almost immediately, eyes glowing blood red. Matt wraps his arms around Foggy from behind, casting huge shadows with his flared wings. But Luke? There’s no recognition of Jess there, except as food. None of the half-domesticated sentience Matt’s been showing, just snarling animal hunger. Luke’s such a chill, reasonable guy that the contrast is shocking and even if he hadn’t been held back Foggy wouldn’t have been able to do more than freeze in terror as Luke pinned Jess to the wall of Strange’s mansion and lunged for her throat. Jess, thankfully, is more of a fight instinct person than a freeze instinct one. Also she’s got superstrength. She catches Luke’s wrist and flips him like a pancake. Once he’s on the ground and winded, she really, genuinely does Vulcan nerve pinch him back to sleep, which is wild. Foggy had been leaning sixty-forty towards her being joking about that.

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “That was impressive.”

“Impressive? Impressive?!” Jess is laughing, but the sound is sharp and bitter. “It should’ve been me,” she growls, stomping back down to the sidewalk and kicking a stray soda can so hard it embeds itself in the wall of a building across the street. “Fuck. I hate seeing him like this. I’m already— half fucking feral, and he’s got that unbreakable skin. It should have been me! He’d probably just sit there calmly and let me try to bite him while he worked out how to fix everything, and all I can do is be a, a panicked fuck-up!”

“Jess!” Foggy scolds sharply, extricating himself from Matt’s arms to confront her. “You’re not a fuck-up. You kept Luke safe. You didn’t let him hurt anyone. You got us here. Look, if Strange isn’t home then maybe that means he’s out fixing this. That’s a good thing. You just need to take a deep breath. We‘ll rest here a little bit, then we’ll start driving back — dollars to donuts whatever big fight is probably going down right now is in, like, Times Square or something, because it literally always is with you super-people.”

Jess makes another frustrated noise that Foggy hopes isn’t going to end with him going through a wall, and then plops down on Dr. Strange’s porch. He settles in beside her, and Matt perches beside him. Luke’s still sprawled in front of them, snoring again. They wait quietly for a good ten minutes, and the tension fades from the air.

Foggy’s just about to suggest they get up and start heading back the way they came when there’s another blast of orange magic — this time running in reverse, moving in towards an epicenter instead of out from it. It washes through them with a disorienting whoosh and leaves behind two dazed boyfriends in simple, cobbled-together costumes.

Foggy’s never been so happy to see a lopsided pipe cleaner halo in his life. He kisses Matt full on the mouth. Matt kisses back eagerly but is also the first to pull away.

“Not that, not that I’m, um, complaining but... What was that for?” he asks, baffled but clearly amused. “And... Where are we?”

So then Foggy has to explain, while watching Jess rip the cheap plastic fangs out of Luke’s mouth and stomp on them repeatedly, exactly how the four of them ended up in front of Dr. Strange’s creepy magic mansion.

“So anyway,” he finishes lamely, “I guess somebody saved the day or something, but we didn’t do much.”

Matt shakes his head.

“You did wonderfully.” He takes a deep breath, the way he always does when he’s gathering himself to say something emotional. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Foggy says, and the flush of embarrassed pleasure that colors Matt’s cheeks in response is sweeter than any candy.

[serenagaywaterford]

Is it me or does June have serious plot armor? I mean, she has done so much shit and nobody has even touched her, when other handmaids have been maimed for way less. It is getting very annoying paired with her arrogance.

It’s not just you. I’d say about 90% of online fandom and TV critics are saying that, and the other 10% are the folks telling everyone else to shut up if they don’t like it and stop watching. Cos, it’s so deep, you see. We, the majority, just don’t understand.

At this point it is nothing but plot armour and people can scream about how it makes sense for but when it comes down to it, even June’s own excuse doesn’t work. 

Basically, the whole idea is that “The Waterfords/Gilead need June in tip-top shape to blatantly sulk and be petulant on international Nazi-esque television promos, in order to get Nichole back”. Which is crap. I’m sorry. It is. Firstly, June is not an asset to have on TV. She is outright pouting and clenching her fists and glaring. No. That’s not good copy.

Aunt Lydia broke June rather quickly in 2x04/2x05 without the use of mutilating violence. She broke her emotionally and psychologically. Sure, this June is somehow more immune (doesn’t care) about all that psychological torture stuff, but she’s not impervious surely. Lock her up. Isolate her, like before. Ram her head with all sorts of shit that would break her. Guilt, shame, etc. Those stupid shame circles clearly don’t work anymore. And hell, I do not WANT to see anymore torture or violence on this show, but let’s be totally real here. If they wanted to maim June, they could. I could come up with like 50 different ways to beat the shit out of her that wouldn’t be visible on TV. Basically, ANYTHING but the face. To imply that GILEAD of all places doesn’t have this ability is moronic.

(But when’s the last time she was in a propo video anyway? Like, been there, done that. Not even in DC or around the Waterfords anymore. Why the fuck do they even need June at all anymore? I’m sure Serena is gonna “explain” it next episode cos she’s gotta check on her trophy Handmaid, or whatever the fuck June is to her now and whatever fucking rando excuse she has for visiting her in hospital. (WHY ARE YOU EVEN THERE, SERENA? I thought you wanted to be free, not get stabbed?!? Fuck this show, man. Toying with my incredibly frayed nerves like this.) We’ve all seen the promo, right? I hope I’m not spoiling anybody.)

The fact that June specifically mentioned Alma’s arm burning and Lillie’s tongue removal was stupid. Like, duh. Aunt Lydia could do either of those things to June no problem and it would not affect her ability to be on TV at all. Her arms are covered, for one thing. And why does she even need to speak? She doesn’t in any of the propos they already did. Hell, in one of them she was gagged! And lbr, Serena went all bonkers and claimed she wanted June to have rings in her mouth to shut her up anyway. (She clearly doesn’t anymore or else she could likely easily order it. Or Fred could. Or Gay Detective Stabler. He’s top dog, above Lawrence. And it seems like even Aunts have the power to just yank Handmaids out of their houses, anyway.) Wouldn’t it be better for Gilead as whole if June couldn’t talk? She couldn’t plot, insult, mouth off, communicate, etc. with anybody. Problem solved. But nooooooo. Not June.

So, this idea that June must remain completely unharmed in any way cos TV, is a batshit insane bullshit excuse made up on the spot to justify the 5-mile thick plot armour she wears. I mean, all these characters have some degree of it. (Serena, Fred, Nick, Lydia). Well, except black people other than Luke and Moira, who instead just get like 10 lines a season instead. Apparently. Like, June has ALWAYS had incredible plot armour; has always been pretty unscathed compared to Janine, Emily, Lillie, Alma, etc. All of whom have been maimed, for MUCH less. (Although lbr, both Janine and Emily have crazy plot armour too. Both should be dead.) And Lillie? Got her tongue cut out for... following June’s lead. (I mean, I agree and June was doing the right thing, and it was brave of Lillie to follow, but still June magically escapes cos she’s pregnant and Lillie gets THAT? Which also brings me to the hypocrisy of “We can’t harm a pregnant Handmaid!! OH NOES!” And then one gets shot. Like? No. In other words, they can’t harm a pregnant Handmaid if she’s white and the protagonist of the story. But if she’s black, and a minor character, why not? Disposable characters anyway.)

Miller recently said that June must stay alive cos she’s narrating the story. The voice-overs apparently are from the future. (Don’t even get me started...) So, ta da, June can never die or lose her voice, or anything cos there goes his whole premise lmao. 

I think June’s plot armour and her arrogance are like a chicken and egg situation. Which comes first? Which caused the other? She’s arrogant cos she has plot armour but she needs plot armour cos she’s so arrogant. (And stubborn and selfish.)

[the-goddess-of-change]

Requested. The sound of thunder roars across the skies as i look out onto the pouring rain drinking my cup of coffee and thank myself i'm not out there I look up at the blue skies to see the skies light up as yet another lightning rides across the sky as the thunder roars It is already late at night and the storm shows no sign of stopping i walk back to my chair and sit down as i take a sip of the coffee and put it down on the table next to me The sound of thunder...the flash of lightning and the pouring rain, it makes it all feel quite...calming the rain is hitting my windows but i just feel at ease as i close my eyes and listen to it ...... ....... i wake up to the sound of two cars honking as i see its sunny outside i guess i must have fallen asleep i think to myself as i notice the cup of coffee is still next to me i stand up and pour out the coffee in the sink as i stretch my arms and start brewing another batch of coffee I yawn as i do as i spot the mail from my kitchen window i look at the coffee brewer which is still well bellow the middle as i step outside and pick up the mail as my feet hit something i look down as i spot a small ring i lean down and pick it up as i look at it some more it has a sorta dirty look to it, like its been lying under dirt for ages i put it in my pocket and walk back inside and turn of the coffee machine and pour myself a cup of coffee i take the ring out of my pocket and put it under the sink and start cleaning it i keep cleaning it but it still has a bit of a dirty look to it as i just put some warm water in a cup and drop the glass inside as i keep sipping my coffee I walk over the living room and sit down as i turn on the tv but it just shows static...probably thanks to the lightning storm last night i sigh to myself as i finish up my cup of coffee and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and do some laundry After i am done with the laundry i go back and look at the ring as it still look dirty i remove it from the glass of water and look at the ring as i try to put it on my finger and to my surprise it actually fits as well ''Huh...look at that'' i say to myself as i think to myself that maybe i should pawn it i nod but before that i have to take a shower i think as i walk back to the bathroom and turn on the shower and step inside the warm water hits my face and rolls down my back as i start scrubbing myself with some shampoo then washing it out as i turn of the shower and dry my hair quickly and put on a new change of clothes as i decide to head to the pawn shop i put on my shoes and walk outside as something shakes...or not really shakes but...it feels like...im moving but im standing still there is a small flash of light as i close my eyes once i slowly open my eyes back up i look outside and i cannot belive what i see...instead of the usual cars parked on the road...there is no cars...the houses looks...newer somewhat but still very...old the road is made of cobblestone instead of asphalt Several people are outside walking, one man wearing a suit with a woman wearing a yellow dress while the man is smoking a cigar and top hat the woman has short red hair that is curled up towards her head and she is wearing very...distinctive old timey clothing i rub my eyes a few times as i step forward out into the street to see the small shop nearby looks completely different as there is one of those barbershop poles by the door and its full of smoke inside ''What the hell?'' i say to myself as i look around and looks around as i hear a weird strange sounding noise as one of those old timey cars drive past me going reasonably slow... i look around as a gust of wind blows something onto my feet i look down and pick up the piece of paper that looks like a newspaper as i read it ''June...1942...hottest weather of the year...'' ''Wait...1942?!'' i yell as i read it again as a man wearing a suit walks over to me and blows some smoke out from his mouth from the cigar ''hello there good sir, thank you so so much for grabbing my newspaper, Damn thing blew out of my hand while i was reading it'' he laughs as i hand it to him ''Huh but my good sir, you look mighty strange wearing that Garb...say it is foreign perhaps ? say those people come up with new things all the time'' He laughs at me and walks away ''W-Wait!'' i yell at him as i walk over He looks at me with a confused look ''Ah...sir, is something the matter?'' ''Ah...kinda yeah...uh...what year is it ?'' ''You must be joking, its 1942 of course! you should really read a newspaper, it only costs 2 cents over by Timothy's generals'' i say nothing and just look at him with wide eyes as she turns and walks away ''What the hell...1942 ? how the fuck did that happen!'' i say to myself as i walk around the city which looks distinctively...older yet newer in some ways... Looking around i find myself where the pawn shop used to be where there is now a clothing store instead as a couple of women are standing outside smoking one with a stroller as they notice me ''huh...look at that Miranda...those young men are dressing worse and worse by the day'' ''Oh my yes...you are right Sally, it is absolutely dreadful'' they say as the look at me ''you know smoking causes cancer right ? and should you be doing that right next to your kid'' i say to her as she grabs her purse and hits me with it ''Mind your own business you rampant fool! dont meddle in or i will call the cops and have you sent to the Asylum!...smoking causes cancer....have you even heard such nonsense...'' they both scoff at me as i walk over to the park...which is thankfully still there and sit down on a bench as i spot a couple of guys drinking heavily and yelling at each other ''Holy shit...this really is the 1940's but what the hell am i doing here....'' i ask as the ring glows and i hear a voice in my head ''You are meant to be here'' i hear the voice say as i look around ''Hello ?'' i say and look around but there is no one around me ''Do not be alarmed i'm speaking to directly to your mind'' ''.....'' i say nothing ''You were sent back here to correct a mistake we are afraid....you were meant to grow up in this timeline instead of your own one...there was a small mistake and just thanks to the lightning storm we managed to correct it'' ''What the hell...meant to grow up in this timeline ? the 1940's ? for real what the hell kinda stoner talk is that'' ''Oh joke all you will but remember someone is talking to you in your head and you cannot deny this is the 1940's right ? so are you really in the position to demand?'' I shrug as i ponder the situation ''Well i don't care, send me back at once, this is fucking insane'' ''Sorry, we cannot do that, once you go back, going to the future might affect certain things so going forward is impossible i am afraid'' ''So what ? You're saying im stuck in this fucking place ?'' ''Well...stuck and stuck...you were meant to live in this time..so you are not stuck and look on the bright side, you are rich here, we brought back your money and exchanged it into this timelines currency so you are basically a millionaire now'' ''That is...that is kinda awesome...'' i say to myself ''A millionaire....that is awesome!'' ''Yes yes, it is the least we could do but we are afraid there is one more issue to take care of'' ''You see as you were...a mistake in some ways growing up in the wrong timeline that is not the whole story...'' ''Oh damn, what now then !?'' ''Well you see...it is you...or rather...''you'' since this whole thing was a mistake on our part well there is no easy way to say this to you but'' ''But'' i say feeling uneasy ''Well it is you see...it is...Nick right?'' ''Yes....it is'' ''Well it's supposed to be Nicole'' ''Wait what ? what ? say what ?'' i reply back to whatever it is talking to me ''Right then, you were meant to be a girl named Nicole, not a man named Nick So we have to rectify that predicament'' ''What ? no no, that is insane...'' ''Not as insane as going back in time though...right?'' ''Well...yeah...but still'' ''So to explain to you in one simple sentence, you were meant to grow up as a girl in this correct timeline, but due to some mistakes here and there you are not in the correct timeline'' ''So our job is to remedy that and to do that we have to start with your personally So if you would please do not react strongly or cause a scene we will correct that mistake right here and now'' it says as i stand up from the bench and try to remove the ring but its stuck on my finger The ring sends out some kinda electric shock trough my body as i go limp and fall down ''Dont try to remove it or that happens...you have to wear that ring to not mess up the timeline so its is permanently stuck to you now'' ''Now then where did we leave off...oh yes'' It says as my insides starts to feel like they are one fire as i can feel things moving around inside me cracking and fitting into place ''Augh...what the hell was that....'' ''Replacing your male organs just for now, the insides are easier to do since it just overrides and removes some stuff but we did replace it with its female counterparts'' ''it fucking hurt...'' i reply weakly back as i stand up on my legs and crack my fingers ''Ah yes let us start with the fingers'' it says as my fingernails grows longer and my fingers turns longer and more petite as the same happens to my arms as it turns smaller and slender my shoulders turns less broad and instead a bit sharper and smaller ''There...fingers and arms done....this will not take long Nicole so please just remain calm'' ''Remain calm ? what the hell kinda shit is this! who even are you!?'' ''You dont need to know that and you dont want to know that....'' it says in a more sinister tone ''Now then, the legs might be a good next step'' it says as i can feel my feet growing smaller and a loud crack can be heard as my legs grows wider as well as my hips then my ass grows decently larger and rounder ''Corrected'' it says as i look at the ring wanting to just throw it away ''Oh please, dont even try, you know i can read your mind so doing that would just give you yet another electrical shock and you dont really want that now do you?'' ''...I dont...'' i say lowly ''we thought so'' it says ''Now then where did we leave off ? oh yes'' it says as it starts to feel like someone tugging at my hair as it grows longer and longer and rolls down my back as it turns a gentle chestnut brown or blonde color and rolls up back as one side rolls down my shoulder ''Very classical and time precise Nicole'' The voice says ''Very...'' i say back as i sneeze I wipe my nose as the voice exclaims ''Ah yes, of course let us fix the face'' it says as i hear yet another loud crack as my face cracks and contorts as my eyes goes from blue to the same chestnut color as my hair, my lips gets fuller and my takes on a considerably feminine form as i walk over to the nearby lake and look up at my reflection and gasp ''Oh...damn...'' i say lowly to myself as i cover my mouth hearing my new voice ''oh damn...damn...'' i say yet again looking at the reflection in the water ''Yes yes, stop your complaining now'' ''Complaining ? i got every right, i have lived my whole life and now you are telling me that is just a joke ?'' ''Not a joke, a mistake we said'' ''Well whatever...but i look...'' ''You look what?'' ''I look good...that face...'' i say and run my finger across it as it feels gentle and smooth ''Okay okay so what now ?'' i say feeling a bit excited as i say it ''Oh ? that is a little turn around now, are you suddenly excited ?'' ''Well, no...not really but...the money drives me i guess...'' ''oh yes, the money keeps you going you say...'' it says ''Well...yes i mean...look...okay...what do you want me to say?'' ''if i cannot change reality...and this is just fate right ? what can i even do...walk around hating everything and myself and get thrown into jail for female hysteria ?'' ''Ah well, look here now, common sense, such a rarity and yes you probably would so it is smart to take the right choices'' it says as my chest starts to grow poking against my black Band shirt they grow larger and larger and fully develops into full functional breasts ''Now then we only have the last part of your ordeal left Nicole'' I look down as i cup my chest with my hands and looks around ''Mmm...these feels nice...'' i say to myself as i blush ''i do not think this is the right time to fondle yourself now Nicole, please be an upstanding woman of society now'' it says as i feel a weird sensation between my legs it feels like im being pushed up or something pressing against me penis as it just creeps back into my body as a pair of lips and a vagina starts to form down there instead as my hips once again grows a bit wider As it finishes it send a wave of pleasure up trough my body as i let out a gentle moan to myself ''there there Nicole'' ''Yes'' i say in a gentle soft tone ''Now you are who time meant for you to be but let me just fix your clothing as that is definitely going to break reality if someone spots you wearing that and besides as you might as well know, no women wore pants during this time'' ''Oh...yes yes, of course...my mistake'' i say cheerfully ''Please do not excuse yourself miss Nicole, you have nothing to be sorry for'' it says as my pants starts to widen up and creep up my legs as it slowly forms a grey skirt going down below my knees Then my band shirt slowly forms into a grey blazer with six buttons as it pushes against my body getting quite tight my converse shoes slowly start to form into a pair of black high heels with a strap around the ankels and lastly a pair of gloves wrap around my fingers and hands as a small purse forms out of thin air as i grab it ''Oh...this looks cute...and the outfit...its so fitting of the time...'' ''Well of course it is, you're a woman in the 1940's Now Nicole and you have to act like one, unfortunately your mind is something we cannot erase so you will have to learn along as it goes'' I nod as i open the purse and find a huge stack of cash ''Oh my! money! i should put these in a bank like right now...a woman with a wad of cash...this could be scary....'' i say to myself as i put the money back in the purse and hold it in my hand as i walk back into the city and look around as i spot the same women by the clothing store still standing there talking as they notice me i slowly walk over and smiles at me ''Hello...are you new in town?'' one of the women asks me as i nod ''Y-yes hello, my name is Nicole and i just moved here'' i smile ''Oh really ? Well my name is Sally and this is Miranda, it is a pleasure to meet you Nicole and i do have to say, your outfit looks very elegant'' ''Oh this thing...thank you'' i smile Miranda smiles as she looks into her purse and hands me a cigarette ''You must be smoking a lot to keep that lovely figure'' ''Oh...well i really dont...maybe once or twice'' i say as Miranda giggles and gives it to me and lights up as i take i inhale some ''it is truly a miracle cure, it makes you thinner and more beautiful and do excuse me for saying so but a woman without a cigarette in her hand is just not a classy woman'' ''Oh yes Miranda, you are definitely right but you know i just feel like good after taking one'' I just look at them as they keep talking so casually about this ''Ah..So Nicole, Do you have a husband ?'' ''Oh..no, not yet..im afraid'' i say kinda defending myself ''oh Sally, she just moved into town maybe she is just looking for one'' ''oh maybe i can ask Tom ? i think he has some single friends'' ''your husband ? oh yes maybe'' Miranda smiles I smile as i look down at the stroller ''And who is this little one?'' ''Oh that is Eric, he is my little bundle of joy barely a year old'' Sally smiles ''the little man is sleeping so i dont really want to disturb him so i hope you understand Nicole'' I nod at her as i finish up my smoke ''Ah...thank you for that'' i say as the women smile at me ''Oh dont mention it dear, we are happy to see a new face here, but i have to go on home now, my husband should be coming home from work now and i bet he is quite hungry now'' Sally smiles as she smiles at me and Miranda and walk home Miranda looks at me and smiles ''So Nicole let me invite you over to my home if you want to come for a cup of coffee and some cake ?'' ''Oh...really ? that would be quite lovely...thank you Miranda'' Miranda smiles as we walk over to her home and step inside once inside it looks typical 1940's...the old phone on the wall...the lack of...what i am used to but still it has quite the charm to it ''Oh please make yourself at home'' I smile as i sit down on a chair and cross my legs ''Oh my...just been a woman for 1 hour and already making friends and enjoying it....who knew the 1940's was such...different time'' i smile to myself as i am really getting into this Miranda out with a plate of some cake and a cup of coffee for me ''So do tell me about yourself Nicole....where do you come from ?'' ''Oh...i do not want to be rude Miranda but i left my past sort of behind...it was...quite...troubling and i do not really like to talk about it much...'' She looks at me sad and nods ''I see...that is truly horrible i am terribly sorry for asking you'' I just smile as i put my hand on hers ''it is not your fault, you couldn't have known is all...'' She smiles and nods as i remove my hand and take a sip of my coffee ''You have a very nice home...it is so cozy in here'' i say ''Oh, thank you thank you...i just love decorating and flowers so this is my little escape from the world outside'' Some things never change i say to myself ''So...what do you like Nicole ?'' ''Oh...i like...going to resturants...being with my friends...going to the mall...'' i say weakly hoping i dont mess something up ''Oh yes i just adore the mall, it is just so bustling with life and they have quite the nice selection of stores but i have to say, your fashion sense is distinctly...upper class...'' she says looking at me ''Oh yes...my father was a banker and made a lot of money...but as he died and had no other children he gave me all...my mother died when i was very young...'' i say quickly ''Oh..yes i see...so you were an only child?'' she asks me ''Oh well...like i said i dont really like to talk...about the past...'' ''Oh yes...of course of course...'' I look over at Miranda who sips her coffee wearing her red dress with sleeves going down to the ankles ''So then Nicole...have you had anything fun lately?'' ''Fun ? oh no but i did have a strange dream...'' ''Oh ? a strange dream...?'' ''Yes...i had a fever a couple of weeks ago and when i have it i get really tired...so i dream't i was a man...like...several years in the future...it was...very strange'' Miranda giggles and looks at me ''Oh ? my my, did they have flying cars?'' she giggles as i giggle back and shake my head ''oh...do you have someplace to live ?'' i slowly shake my head and sigh ''Well you want to stay here for the night then ?'' ''Well...that would be lovely but i cannot do so for free...let me at least pay for it...'' i say as Miranda lights up another cigarette and smiles at me ''oh please...i will not ask you but if you insist'' she smiles as i look into my purse and hands her a hundred dollar bill She looks at it in shock then over at me then back at the bill ''A-Are...Are you sure ? that is a lot of money...'' she says as i just smile and nod at her ''you are giving me a place to stay...it is the least i can do'' We sit down and chat for several more hours as i learn new things over and over again as Miranda yawns and looks at the clock ''Oh...miranda do not mind if i ask but...do you live here alone ?'' ''Oh..yes...my husband died in the war 4 years ago i am afraid...i have been alone since'' ''Oh...i didnt mean to bring that up...i am sorry'' Miranda smiles and shakes her head ''He died fighting for our country...in my eyes he is a hero Miranda smiles at me as she turns around and walks up the stairs as i look at her while sipping my last cup of coffee ''....oh my dear goddess....'' i say to myself as feel myself getting a bit warmer ''Oh dear heavens..no no...please...i am a woman...it is not right...'' ''But i mean...i used to be...'' ''No no...that is just absurd...i mean...its not but i cannot keep thinking like that...i have to fit in...'' i say as Miranda walks back downstairs and sits down on the sofa ''So then Miranda, you can use the guest bedroom okay ?'' I nod at her as i stand up and walk upstairs to the guest room which just has a single bed and some old drawers there it feels...quite cold I look in the drawers as i find an old nightgown as i remove my clothes and put on the gown as i lie down in bed just thinking about Miranda ''Oh...Fuck it'' i say as i stand back up and walk over to find Miranda in the bathroom i look at her as she looks at me and smiles ''that nightgown fits you very nice i am glad i saved that thing'' I just look at her into the eyes as she goes silent and just looks at me back ''N-Nicole...are you well ?'' she asks as i take a deep breath and looks at her ''I think i am about to do something...stupid'' i say as i move in closer and wrap my arms around her shoulders as i gently leans in and kisses her lips Miranda's eyes goes wide as she pushes me away ''Good heavens Nicole! what has gotten into you! Are you insane!?'' she yells at me as i look at her ''I am not insane Miranda...but...you have just been so kind to me and...look at you...you look so lovely and cute...and it just..felt right'' ''i close my eyes now and see you....and i just want to hold around you...you really...you are just...'' Miranda looks at me and pushes me away as she walks into her bedroom and locks the door i walk over and knock on it but get no reply ''I am...i am so sorry Miranda...'' i say as i walk back to my room and lie down on the cold bed as i close my eyes and just recap my day so far But as i start to recap it my thoughts flood over to Miranda...all i think about is her now...her lovely body...her cute and sweet face...her empathy and compassion...why does these things...turn me on and why do i...as a woman myself...i am killing myself... But i cannot fight these feelings anymore i remove my nightgown and lie down naked in the bed and covers myself with the blanket as i just think about Miranda all night and nothing else The next morning i wake up and look around and quickly get dressed as i find Miranda downstairs listening to the radio ''Good morning'' she says as i walk over and sit down next to her ''Good morning Miranda...'' She turns and looks at me ''i have heard of women like you Nicole...and cannot belive it just happened to me...i cannot get it out of my head what you did to me...i wanted to call the police but...i just couldn't...'' ''i am sorry Miranda...i didn't mean it...'' ''Look Nicole, you are a lovely woman but this...this...is just...absurd...'' i just keep looking at her as i stand up and walks over to her as i hold her hand against my blazer where my breasts are as she stands up and looks at me ''.....'' we say nothing and just look at each other as i yet hear the voice in my head again ''Miss Nicole...if you go down this path...you will live a secrecy...oppression and hate...'' it says to me ''Yes...but i cannot help myself...its not that she is just a woman...but i just cannot help myself...i just cannot...she...she just feel right for me...'' ''Then Miss Nicole...dont fight it...and enjoy this life that was meant to be yours from the start''it says as it fades away ''N-Nicole...'' she stammers but does not remove her hand as i smile at her ''Miranda...'' ''Nicole...'' ''Miranda...i cannot stop my feelings...when i saw you..i just knew...i fell in love...you are everything i have looked for in another person...and i cannot stop thinking about you no matter how hard i try...'' ''But...i am a woman....just like you...'' ''And so what...? does that make it less wrong ? these are my feelings...you dont have to feel the same back but...just be honest to me...'' Miranda sighs i let go of her hand as she looks at me ''....Who...who just are you...'' she says ''Just a woman like you'' i smile back I see a smile across Her face as she giggles and looks at me ''No one has to know...right?'' I nod at her ''We can move away and start a life for ourselves....'' ''Then...Y-yes...i will give this a chance but what would i even call you?'' I lean in and kiss her lips lovingly ''Wives at some point maybe ? or maybe just...girlfriends'' ''Wives...me being a wife to a woman...oh my....i would have never...but...you kiss...good'' i giggle and smile at her ''And so do you Miranda...my dear...'' ''Oh Nicole...i dont understand you but...i am sure i will soon'' she smiles at me as i kiss her lips again and giggle at her ''i know something i want to try with you...if you so desire to follow me upstairs...'' Miranda looks at me confused as we head upstairs and i show her a whole new word...just as she did to me...

[peachwizard]

Giving Up

Request:  Hi! Can you a sis fic based kind of like 11x12 in which the reader is staying with Jody, Claire and Alex because she screwed up a few hunts and when Sam and Dean come they see she is sad because she doesn’t have many friends and gave up hunting because Dean told her she was bad at it? Just basically really fluffy and angsty. Maybe she ends up saving Sam and Dean? I know it’s kinda long but I hope you take it into account :)) @newyorkrebel

A/N: As always, sorry for being dead to the world. I literally have hardly any free time and the free time I do have I don’t have the inspiration to write. Would love your feedback if you have any to give! Thanks guys I appreciate you for sticking with me even though I’m not a frequent writer. 

Characters: Sister!Reader, Dean, Sam, Claire (mentioned), Alex (mentioned), Jody, John (mentioned)

Warnings: swearing, angst, violence, arguing, self doubt/harsh words about self to self?, Dean being mean, fluff, mention of death but no dying.. I think that’s it, as always let me know if I missed anything

Tagging: @winchesters-favorite-girl @mycuddlycorner @percussiongirl2017 @wonderange @leenasleena-blog @tolaughistolove  If you wanna be added/removed let me know!

You were laying in bed with your headphones on, blocking out the world, listening to your favorite song that helped you forget how much your life sucked right now. You were thankful that Claire wasn’t in the room you both shared and both frequented, since you had a somewhat similar outlook on life. Pushed away and abandoned by those you cared about most, and hating your life. You had one difference, and that was that you no longer wanted to hunt, whereas Claire wanted to hunt more than anything, in fact, that’s where she was right now, investigating for a possible hunt. You figured that Claire only wanted to hunt because no one told her she sucked at it. She was a good hunter for sure, and you thought you were, but according to your brothers, who you loved more than anything, you were no good.

You had just finished a hunt, four ghosts were all haunting a recently renovated hotel, and all three of you left with a fair share of scratches, cuts, and bruises. Although you were fine, all of the people were not. One person, the hotel manager, a really nice but ignorant young man, was killed in your final battle to salt and burn the ghosts.

They all were buried in the back of the hotel, and he came out to yell at you for digging up their nice new garden. You tried to save him, but not every ending was a happy one. It wouldn’t have been so bad, people die on the job all the time, you can’t get attached, except that Dean was yelling at you and blaming you for it. For as often as he told you not to get attached, he was a bit of a hypocrite.

You, of course, were not going to sit there and take your moron older brother yelling at you for no reason, so you started fighting back. You and Dean were almost exactly alike, just as stubborn and hotheaded as the other. You went back and forth all the time, just shouting nonsense at each other until Sam broke it up and you both calmed down and apologized to each other on the long ride back to the bunker, however, this time was different.

Instead of you being cut off by Sam’s insistence to shut up because you were giving him a headache, you were cut off by Dean’s harsh words, you could hear them over and over again in your head every moment of the day since he said them, “Yeah well we would never have the problem of people dying or us ever screwing up a case if Y/N didn’t suck and wasn’t such a goddamn terrible hunter! You make the Winchester name a disappointment.”

After that the three of you were silent on the car ride back to the bunker, you waited for the boys to pass out, packed a bag, wrote a note, and high tailed it out to Jody’s. Maybe if you couldn’t hunt you could be better at normal life. Or at least that’s what you thought. Being with Jody for a few months now, you had attended a normal high school and literally had no friends. You were just some freak girl that came in the middle of the year and had a weird liking for flannel, even when it was too hot to wear.

It also didn’t help that you had the IQ of a squirrel. You may have gotten Sammy’s puppy dog eyes and bitch face, but you most certainly did not get his brain. Every class you took you were horrible in, it was a good thing you were home schooled by Sam and didn’t go to actual school before this, because you definitely would have failed out.

You heard the door open and close and voices that were not what you were used to hearing, so you took out your headphones and looked down the stairs, only to hear and get a glimpse of your two older brothers. All you could manage to think was that it had been months and they only came to see you now. They tried calling and texting you and Jody, but you would never answer and refused to talk when Jody tried to make you. You figured if they really wanted you they would come get you, and you figured out soon enough that they did not really want you. You figured that Sam agreed with what Dean said, and they both thought you were a bad hunter.

Upon further listening, you realized they didn’t actually come to see you. There was a hunt nearby and were asking if Jody and Claire would come help. JODY and CLAIRE. They didn’t even want to talk to you, they didn’t want your help on any hunts, they really just didn’t want you at all. You went back to your room and locked the door, you didn’t want to hear anymore of the conversation.

You stayed locked in your room the first two days the boys were around except to sneak down to grab some food when you got hungry. They would come and knock on the door occasionally and you would give them the silent treatment as they tried to talk to you through the door. You didn’t want to hear their pathetic excuses, so when you started to feel like you just might go open it, you put your headphones in to drown out their voices.

The third night you heard your brothers go out back to check whatever they supposedly had heard, then you heard Jody shouting their names and rushing out after them. That couldn’t be good. From overhearing their conversations downstairs the past three days, you knew that they were hunting werewolves. Well at least they were, it seemed that now the werewolves were hunting them.

You reached under your bed where you kept your duffel filled with all of your weapons, including the gun your dad bought for you, and the silver knife from Dean. You loaded the gun with silver bullets and strapped the knife to your thigh and ran down the stairs as quickly, but as quietly as you could.

Through the open back door you could see your brothers and Jody on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs in front of the werewolves. From what you could see and hear, it was probably about six or seven of them. You were definitely going to die taking them on alone, but you weren’t going to sit by while your big brothers and the only woman you had ever known as a mother get massacred.

You stepped out into the open and shot the two standing in front of the open doorway, one right after the other. They clearly didn’t realize that anyone else was home or involved. When the third came rushing through the door, you shot him too. When four more came rushing at you, you panicked.

Y/N, why do you suck at hunting? Why are you a failure at the one thing that you should know how to do? Why are you such a disappointment to the Winchester name? Was all that was flooding through your head. In your hesitation, they were much closer. Oh yeah, you were gonna die. You shut down the thoughts in your head, adrenaline came rushing into your system, your basic instincts to survive took hold, you told that voice that sounded remarkably like Dean to shut the fuck up, and you managed to shoot and kill a fourth before the other three advanced on you.

You grabbed your knife and prepared for a bloody fight. You knew you were fighting, harder than you ever had. These werewolves were almost twice your size and had superhuman strength. You could feel yourself getting bruised, broken, and cut, but you kept going because you knew otherwise you would die.

You finally looked around at the bloodshed in front of you. The three werewolves lied dead in front of you just as you heard Dean, Sam, and Jody all rush in. They must have tied them together pretty well if they all just escaped now, your brothers were known for being able to get themselves out of sticky situations, but this time it appears that it could have been too late.

Suddenly, you realized all the blood over you, from head to toe. You weren’t sure what belonged to you and what belonged to the werewolves. Dean made a beeline for you and grabbed your face with both of his hands, checking to see if you were alright. He then started looking down your body for any serious injuries, and when he found none he immediately grabbed you and held you close to his body, one arm wrapped around your back and the other holding your head to the crook of his neck.

“Oh god. Sweetheart, are you alright? Taking on seven werewolves alone? Are you insane? Holy shit. You’re okay. You’re okay...” he started mumbling over and over to himself. When he pulled back you could see the tears in his eyes, which is what made you break down and pull him back into a hug. “Shhh. It’s alright. I’m here. Sammy’s here. We’re here. I’m so sorry. You did so good. You are a hell of a hunter, Y/N/N. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m so sorry.”

When you finally calmed yourself down enough you looked up at him, “I couldn’t let them kill you guys. I love you. I’m sorry I suck at hunting, Dean, and I always make everyone die.”

“Oh honey, that’s not true. You just saved all of us. You don’t suck at hunting. I was just angry and then couldn’t find the words to apologize. You are one damn good hunter. I couldn’t have killed all those werewolves myself when I was your age. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You both rambled back and forth until Sam could tell everything was fine and then reached in and grabbed you from Dean for a hug.

“Hey, Sammy,” you smiled at him.

“Hey, Y/N. We’ve missed you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought you guys just didn’t want me anymore because I thought that you thought that I was a bad hunter... You never even tried to get me from Jody’s.”

“No way. You are just as good as any Winchester. We just figured that maybe with Jody you could get out of the life. That’s why we didn’t come take you back. We’re sorry. We went about it all the wrong way. We want you back with us, at least if that’s what you want.”

“Of course that’s what I want. I’ve missed you two morons like crazy.”

“Let’s get going then. Go get your stuff.”

You let Sam go and rushed up the stairs to get all your stuff from your room. While you were gone, Jody spoke to Sam and Dean, “If I ever hear that you two say anything like that again to your little sister, I am driving myself over to that bunker and letting you idiots have it. Am I understood?”

They both looked at her with caution in their eyes and nodded their heads, “Yes ma’am.”

[austennerdita2533]

Day 1: Crossovers/Fusions

A/N: For Day 1 of KC AU Week, I have succumbed to the temptation (and the nudge-nudging from some of you) and wrote a Pride and Prejudice fusion. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Many of you know I’m obsessed with Jane Austen so I feel like this was inevitable at some point? (Regency AU)

Also for the lovely Maf, @kickassfu. This could use more editing, but I got tired of staring at it haha. *Fingers crossed* I’ll be able to write you something else for your birthday later this week. 

(FF.net)

Happy reading!

xx Ashlee Bree  

A Lady’s Tongue is Quite Rapid

In a small town like Mysticton, to engage in gossip about one’s neighbors was a sport of sorts. It meant, that much like fencing, no one was exempted from a sparring strike which could expose some truth about his/her disposition or reputation to the rest of the villagers. No one.

In fact, it was of little consequence to the surrounding residents as to what, or where, or about whom this ‘sharing’ included so long as the topic was titillating, the person was some combination of scandalous or mysterious, and the discussion was breached artfully: with tact, with sophistication. Such a practice was allowed in trifles—encouraged, rather—but only so far as it did not tread upon common decency. After all, there was nothing more impudent to members of respectable society than rudeness or vulgarity.

Since the English valued propriety above all, therefore, it was an unspoken rule amongst them that gossip was to be whispered and never trumpeted. It was meant to be censored not flaunted. It mattered not whether folks were from the city or the country, nor from what class or rank from which they hailed, but that they knew best how and when to be inconspicuous. And none in this world of manners, as it happened, commandeered the art of whispering more effectively than the fairer sex.

…Most of the time, anyway.

“Come now, Caroline,” Miss Katherine trilled from the edge of her wine glass, her mouth cut in a minx-like expression. “You cannot deny the striking set of his features with that rough, angular jawline and those eyes so blue and cavernous, they could trap a girl in the dark forever. He’s quite delectable in a way, would you not agree?”

The young lady smoothed a loose blonde curl against her temple.

“Handsome or not, a man who offers nothing but snarling personality at first sight holds no charms for me. We’d never suit. Besides,” she clucked, “I find his snobbery almost unendurable.”

“Now, now, don’t cast him off so readily.”

“Why ever not? You know how much stock I place on early impressions,” Caroline said.

“Firstly, he’s rich and titled. Secondly, he knows how to strut in a pair of tailored breeches. And thirdly,” Katherine continued while Miss Forbes rolled her eyes, “not all of us are who we appear to be amongst people we don’t know well. Though you’re loath to believe it, friend, he may prove to be much more intriguing than you suspect at present.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Ah, except I am.” Her fingers tapped along the wall behind her, her expression clouding, her thoughts drifting away, “Perhaps he’s emotionally withdrawn for good reason?” she proposed.

A sneer. “Conceited, unsociable, and taciturn for no reason, you mean!”

Katherine leveled a look at her companion, her lips compressed from want of laughter at this vehement outburst.

“Why, I don’t believe I’ve known you to chide anyone so disparagingly in my life! If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say this fellow has sunk his teeth beneath your skin and has hit a discordant vein you find oddly compelling.”

“That is absurd,” Caroline answered.

“Is it?” Miss Pierce’s tone was suggestive, stoking her companion’s composure enough that she gaped and colored.

“Yes!” Crossing her arms defensively, Miss Caroline turned up her nose when she met Katherine’s eye, her cheeks burning hot with indignation at such a claim. “I’ll have you know I find his incense and irritable nature entirely unbecoming. I can hardly stand the man!”

“Careful, love,” a lilting voice cut in.

Large masculine hands skimmed across the waist of her dress then, lingering for a moment too long. Fingers tapped in and out of the royal blue creases that stretched against her lower back. It made her gooseflesh pimple.

Breath tickled hot near her ear as a slender blond man in a evergreen waistcoat slipped from his post in a hidden doorway to make his way past her and back toward the fray. “I’m afraid my temper’s flared for a lot less censure than that,” he said.

“Wha—I—how dare you not make yourself known, sir!”

He turned. Arched an eyebrow.

“And interrupt all the salacious gossip? Why, that would have been rude,” he parried, lips twitching.

“Then what, pray tell, do you call insinuating yourself into an intimate discourse that never included you in the first place?” Caroline crossed her arms. “Etiquette?” she scoffed.

“Hardly.”

“Then what? Illuminate me. Please,” she gestured, “I beg of you.”

His eyes livened into two round, gold disks as he took in her flustered countenance, as he discerned the contempt in her balled fists.

“Clever,” he answered. “I’d call engaging with you clever, Miss Caroline.”

He dimpled slightly when he pronounced her name, drawing out the syllables.Then, after he gave a gallant bow which bordered on goading, he left the two of them to ruminate over his last remark and rejoined his family members who perched before the large arched windows in the center of the ballroom.

Caroline huffed.

So she’d ‘barely tolerable’d’ a near stranger with an indiscreet slip of the tongue. And what? Was she expected to skulk to a nearby corner, her face blotched with color; aghast, humiliated, and regretful? Was she supposed to apologize for her uncouth remarks all because the indignant fool—a man whom had refused to be properly acquainted with any of the ladies in  town since he’d first arrived, by the way, herself included—decided to loiter in the shadows and eavesdrop on a private conversation she’d conducted with her dearest friend, Katherine, in a secluded corner of the room? Ha. She wouldn’t stoop low enough to give him the satisfaction!

Besides, what she’d said was the truth. Not gossip. As far as she was concerned, he and that stormy smirk of his earned spite from this entire ballroom full of people. Deserved it, too! The smug, insufferable man.

Katherine let out a puff of air. “Well, that was…”

“Inexcusable!” Miss Forbes finished for her. “Can you believe the gall of that sneering Mr.—Mr. whatever his name is!?”

“I find him refreshing.”

“Oh, please!”

“What?”

“He is so not a gentleman.”

“And?”

Nonplussed, Caroline sucked in a breath and pressed a gloved palm to her head, shaking it. Katherine rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized,” she said. “There are enough droll poppycocks among us in Hertfordshire as it is. We are not in want of another.”

“And that somehow makes a louse like him preferable company? Sorry,” she retorted with a dismissive laugh, “but I beg to differ.”

Ignoring this, slinking her elbow around Caroline’s, Miss Pierce cut them free of their temporary wallflower status by navigating them back through the throngs of people and toward the edge of the dance floor in the hopes she could claw one of them, if not both, a spare partner.

“Anyway, who wants a gentleman tonight in the off chance you can dangle yourself from one of him instead?” she said with a bump of her hip and a grin toward a dark-haired gentleman adorned in militia red and brass buttons.

Caroline sighed. “Are good looks and dancing all that matter to you this evening? Or does that requirement extend to the securing of a future husband as well?”

“Good fortune factors into my marriage prospects, too, dearest. We mustn’t forget that,” her friend winked, taking the officer’s hand to join the reel, “especially with these Moneybag Mikaelsons in town now.”

“What nonsensical prattle you do speak, Kat!”

“Nonsense, wit—” she purred, “such a fine line, Care.” Then, with a punctuated twirl, she disappeared into a sea of couples.

Caroline flourished her friend with a wave of adieu interspersed with a head-shaking smile before she moved to fetch herself a fresh glass of wine, her feet in need of a rest plus a little something to dull the ache. Relief flooded through her at the prospect of a few minutes alone to admire the party’s splendor. And to reflect.

Personally, though she refrained from sharing this information out loud in an effort to avoid her mother’s ‘what will become of you’ hysterics, she wished the entire family would deposit themselves and their moneybags back in London for good. Leaving their little country town with its quaint manners and civilities in peace.

The truth was simple: the Mikaelson’s arrival had thrown the entire village into uproar!For, not only were they in possession of profound wealth, rank, and prestige as well as in ownership of Evermoore (one of the oldest, most well-established estates in all of England), but four of the seven of siblings—three gentlemen and one lady—were single and of marriageable age; and, moreover, were either already established in esteemed professions or set to inherit thousands of pounds. As a result of this, every last eligible suitor in the county schemed and clamored all over themselves for an opportunity to woo. Some of them resorting to flattery so absurd, and so heinously insincere, Caroline baulked at their desperate displays.

And all for what? The vain hope they could, perhaps, by some miraculous design of stupidity or frivolity, procure themselves an advantageous marriage?

It was completely and absolutely insane! Asinine, really.

She wanted no part in this courting circus. Not for her, and certainly not for her beloved town.

It was half past time for the Mikaelsons to leave—but not because she disliked them or anything. On the contrary. In fact, amid a month’s worth of acquaintance, she’d found them to be stimulating company.

Admiral Kol Mikaelson, the youngest son once removed, boasted the most open temperament of his siblings and captivated society with a mischievous good humor. His dark eyes were forever crinkled, drunk off amusement; and his conversation was as inviting and as pleasing as the proffered hand he gave Miss Bonnie Bennett when he asked her to ‘teach [him] the steps of a country quadrille’ after a game of whist his first night there. He was the idlest of the bunch, however, and chose to scour the seas not for pirates but for ports (the more clandestine and egregious the better). Fond of drink, gaiety, and women, he travelled the world with his ship’s sails raised in search of adventure and entertainment, teasing his way from land to land.

He laughed heartily, danced readily, and drank heavily. Indulgence and spontaneity were the tenets he lived by—the pleasures of the world made to be worn thin by his gluttony. With a gambler’s spirit, he infected those around him with a reckless flurry of activity they either gravitated toward or shunned completely.  

Colonel Elijah Mikaelson, too, was sophisticated, courteous, and fashionable. He held himself with an honorable grace befitting of a second-born son and gentleman. Albeit, at times, in part because of his military background, his stoicism was a little intimidating. He had a tendency to pepper his dialogue with curt, off-hand remarks that tumbled wryly, frostily, from his mouth. It caused some folks to label him wrongly as impassive; where in truth, he was simply guarded in expressions of sensibility. A compassionate warmth blazed behind his eyes if one knew where to look, softening him considerably. And although he seemed less than inclined to partake in silliness, he had a shrewd mind which made him both approachable and engaging, his penchant for musical skill as fine-tuned as a violinist’s tightened orchestra strings.

Unlike her elder brothers, however, Miss Rebekah Mikaelson, the youngest save ten-year-old Henrik, was a bit more prickly around the edges. Pampered as well. She was not intrinsically disagreeable in any regard, mind you, but patronizing in a superficial way. Like she was sizing up a potential threat or an eventually ally with tip-toed caution any time she formed a new acquaintance. And until people provided her with either a cause to smile, or to snarl, she treated them all with the same detached disdain—letting only the deserving in to relish her playful attentions and amity.

Beauty favored her as well. It manifested in the form of fair, silky tresses and creamy sun-kissed skin; in adornments of all the latest fashions: rich, heavy silks swaying from her hips, necklines stitched in fragile lace or beaded embellishments, dazzling jewels which were purchased from merchants abroad; and in sapphire eyes which coquetted almost as often as they puddled with insecurity. Her heart she wore outside of herself like an accessory that was much too easy to abscond. However, that being said, it colored her love in a ferocious, uninhibited kind of faithfulness that was endearing to anyone fortunate enough to receive it.

All in all, Miss Caroline found the unattached siblings to be rather intriguing. Almost liked them even…

Except for him, of course. Mr. Niklaus Mikaelson. The pompous, leering, annoyingly attractive middle son who rarely spoke but scrutinized everything and everyone around him by glaring—and by glaring incessantly.

Hawkishly, he watched Caroline from the darkest of corners of any room: his gaze moored, unrelenting, his jaw ticking along with each new flaw he recognized in her. Ugh! Talk about the epitome of miserable!

Frankly, she marveled at how he’d managed to survive in respectable society this long. Moreover, she puzzled over why young ladies like Miss Aurora and Miss Camille seemed more apt than not to swoon at his feet despite his clipped replies and his blatant disregard for their fluttering eyelashes, coy smiles, squeaked threads of conversation, and contrived performances which were meant to impress him with their moderate accomplishments. His indifference rolled off him in rivets, almost palpably. Yet still, they paddled before him like swans who believed he’d help them fly out of their ugly duckling ponds. Only…

That would never happen.

With the first born male of the family, Finn, devoting his life to the church and Elijah swearing his fealty to the military and the war effort shortly thereafter, Niklaus—or Klaus as he preferred to be addressed—had assumed the role as Evermoore’s heir after his parents’ tragic death five years ago. And while it was commendable that he’d achieved greater affluence for his family since then, rumors of a volatile father-son relationship, mood swings, and ruthlessness in business clung to him like wisps of shadow. Couple that with his grumbling intensity plus his refusal to mingle with any ‘common savages’ in either conversation or dance since he’d come to Mysticton, and the man’s character shouldn’t have faired well under public scrutiny.

‘Shouldn’t have’ being the operative words.

The fact of the matter was this: Mr. Mikaelson was an eligible commodity.

People everywhere tittered about his callous and formidable demeanor behind his back, only to then flatter him in person with manufactured compliments and fraudulent smiles. They powdered their noses, performed quartets, bowed, curtsied, and stood for hours by his side while he deafened them with protracted silence or scorn. Every single of them were nothing but gawking hypocrites with ‘thirty thousand a year!’ spinning in their eyes and minds. It was truly appalling.

And while Caroline supposed money and prestige held sway with a lot of single females, it was disgraceful how many of them excused his defects entirely. Ignored them, really.

Did they not have any self-respect? Any dignity? Did they not understand how no woman on earth would be good enough for such a self-important gentleman? Could they not comprehend that he was far too haughty, far too supercilious, to care about anything except the well-bred capital lining his pockets?

Caroline pitied them, truthfully. As a result, she promised herself she’d follow her own impeccable judgments where such a person was concerned. Her eyes were open, her mind made up:

A man like that would never be worth her time. Never!

“If you value your modesty, I’d advise you to scratch Mr. Damon Salvatore from your dance card indefinitely,” Miss Rebekah humphed as she plopped down next to Caroline on the settee, ruffled in air, and broke her introspection. “The lout has sly, wandering hands, and believe me, it troubles him not to use them.”

“In my defense, I tried to caution you about him.”

“Yes. And like the obstinate fool I am, I ignored you.”

“I’m sure you had good reason for that,” Miss Caroline answered, shrugging.

“Hardly.” The lady snickered. “I simply assumed you meant to discourage me so you could ensnare him for yourself.”

A full-bodied laugh. A pat of a gloved hand.

“Good heavens, no!” Caroline said. “Why on earth would you think such a ridiculous thing?”

“Trust, confidence…” Miss Rebekah sighed, “it is something I do not extend easily to those outside of my family.”

Caroline nodded, her mouth soft and somber. She was a little surprised by such an admission, but appreciated the lady’s candor.

“Wariness is not unknown to me, Miss Mikaelson,” she replied feelingly. “Unfortunately, I, too, have been duped or disappointed by acquaintances in the past. It is not something I aim to repeat, either.”

A look of commiseration and understanding passed between them as Miss Rebekah scooted nearer to gossip, “Miss Gilbert ended her courtship with Mr. Salvatore recently. Did you know?” she asked.

“I was aware of that, yes.”

“I,” her companion explained, grimacing at herself, “mistakenly, took pity on him. She’s engaged to his brother now, as I understand it, and he’s quite heartbroken over the situation.”

“I’m sure.”

“However,” her countenance hardened, “that in no way entitles him to assault his dance partner so inappropriately!”

Caroline concurred with a nod.

“Ugh, what poor breeding!”

“Yes…well, Mr. Salvatore’s always been a bit of a rascal in my opinion,” she declared with a shudder, remembering his untoward advances at a coming out ball a few seasons ago. It was an uncomfortable experience which had ended only when Caroline had ‘accidentally’ crashed him into a footman carrying a tray of hot tea while they danced a Scotch reel. “I never could vouch for him.”

“I dare say, what an interesting assortment of individuals this one carriage town of yours boasts, Miss Forbes.” The words filled the air with unveiled repugnance, and she needn’t shift to see to whom they belonged. She already knew. “Wouldn’t you say, sister?” the gentleman added provokingly.

“Some are unpolished, to be sure, Nik, but most people here in Mysticton are agreeable enough.”

“I suppose so.”

His tone implied otherwise, however, causing Caroline’s stomach to churn and her mouth to purse. Hateful man!

Mr. Mikaelson sidled next to them looking like a vigilante ready to duel. Not with pistols, either, but with a blunt broadsword.

“Shall I find a way to dispose of the eldest Salvatore’s lecherous fingers? Inconspicuously, of course,” he offered as an afterthought.

“Not a wholly unappealing offer,” his sister said with consideration, “but unnecessary.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

“He’s a cockroach, Nik,” Miss Mikaelson yawned, smoothing the lavender fabric of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s a bug too lowly to avoid the crunch of retaliatory female feet at some point in the not too distant future.”

She gestured conspiratorially at her companion and smiled, “At any rate, I trust Miss Caroline and I will be among the first two in line. Won’t we?”

“Yes, but…” Mr. Mikaelson dangled, his frustrations marrying with the small hope the ladies would yield. It gave him the aspect of a caged hawk. “I assure you’d it’d be my honor to eliminate such a scoundrel from our midst.”

Miss Caroline piped in then with a twitch of her lips, her countenance lively yet derisive as challenge ignited the air between them like a wick, “Honor,” she tried, “or pleasure?”

“Can it not be both?”

“I believe that depends.”

“On what, might I ask?”

“The gentleman in question.”

“I see,” Mr. Mikaelson mused. He scratched his chin looking offended and intrigued. “And what if the gentleman who stands before you now only aims to save you and his darling sister? Neither one of you should be subjected to Mr. Salvatore’s lewd unpleasantness in the future.”

She appraised him cooly, her lips dancing along the rim of her glass, “My, my, aren’t we chivalrous.”

“Is that a crime, love?”

“No,” she answered. “No, I assure you I find it an admirable quality in anyone, sir.”

“But?” He smirked. “Forgive me, but I sense one.”

Readying her wit like a knife, considering her next maneuver, Caroline let her fingers drum along the glass’s stem while she sipped the last of her wine. Then, setting it on the table beside the settee, she stood.

“But,” she replied, her posture straightening, “it sounds as if brawls are more preferable to you than balls, Mr. Mikaelson. Would you care to enlighten me as to why that may be?” She fluttered her eyelashes, masking herself with innocence. “I admit I’d be most interested to hear your explanation.”

“Oh, I’m afraid my brother infinitely prefers fighting to flirting!” Miss Rebekah supplied for him with an affectionate giggle. “I fear he’s much more adept at closing his fists or stomping offenders into the dirt than he is at opening his lips to converse with people in a ballroom.”

“Singular. Most singular, indeed,” Caroline said.

Altering his posture by inclining his head to the left slightly, Mr. Mikaelson’s gaze flicked to her face with acuteness at this. His eyes, normally a detached ice blue, liquified into a more active hue when they looked upon her, curiosity and intensity rolling into them like waves on a choppy sea. “Singular, you say, miss?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Not—” a pause; one finger tapping on his lips as he sounded out his next word with prolonged consideration “—ungentlemanly?” he said.

Miss Caroline clasped her hands together daintily. Offered him a tight-lipped smile.

The cad.

If he meant to disarm her composure by alluding to those uncensored comments she divulged to Katherine about him earlier, then he’d be sorely disappointed. Her stubbornness rose every time this imperious man attempted to make her look or feel foolish, and she regretted not a single word she’d let slip about him in disapproval. Not one!

Roguishly attractive though he may be, she would set herself apart from her swooning peers. She’d show him precisely how little his money, his status, or his title, mattered. She’d douse him in the ugly truths he deserved, not in the pretty lies he often received.

Therefore, after Captain Lorenzo St. John approached from the other side of the room and bowed, claiming her her hand with a kiss; and moments before he escorted her through the next dance with pleasure, Miss Caroline halted to thumb down one of Klaus’ lapels. She leaned in close to his ear; she whispered so only he would hear,

“If he glares like a brute and grunts like a brute,” she simpered, her tone light but pointed, “then perhaps he is a brute. Just one who attempts to disguise himself in prim and fancy coattails.”

“You certainly have a low opinion of me, Miss Forbes. I aim to change that.”

She bit back a caustic laugh.

“Trust me,” she said, “you won’t.”

He disappeared back into another dark corner after that, his pride satisfactorily wounded. He refrained from speaking to her, or to anyone else, for the rest of the night. His eyes, however, they followed her through the rest of the assembly with a fierce watchfulness that burnt like cigarette butts against Caroline’s back—making it possible to ignore, but not to forget his presence.

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