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got-any-references · 4 years ago

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What are your fav beetlebabes headcanons? Also, love your stuff <3

Thank you <3. And thank you for the wait cause oh boy if I don’t answer this ask with a ridiculous amount of art how will I live?

*Digging out the dust covered manuscript that is my nonexistent Beetlebabes fic from under the floorboards* It’s showtime.

So...Lydia is the one who falls first. She is about 17 or 18 at the time, so this is very much an “I have a teen crush on someone I am not supposed to” type of deal. Honestly they fell in love with each other way before that but like, platonically

Beej is...horribly oblivious XD. Honestly its for the best because Lydia spends the better part of her pre-college summer freaking about because any time her best friend walks in the door her heart wants to go bull-riding in her chest and if she actually has to confront her feelings she might just explode.

Then, just before Lydia was supposed to go away to college, Beetlejuice...disappears. He leaves a note, saying he’ll be back, but weeks turn into months, months turn into a year, and no one either in the living world or the netherworld has seen a hair of him. Lydia goes through college without really knowing what to do with herself, missing what was probably the closest person in her life. She graduates with a journalism degree and a minor in photography. She works for a newspaper as an investigative journalist before breaking off over less than great circumstances and going off on her own.

She’s 25 when she establishes herself as a pivate eye, with an enormous amount of anonymous sources being dead people. Also, this takes place in New York City.

(Yes she absolutely does exorcisms on the side).

She’s following a rather stange missing persons case when one of her sources points to a run down establishment that is 100% totally haunted. Except when she goes there she doesn’t find any ghosts, but rather

Beetlejuice. And he looks awful. And very much human.

Lydia: You look like hell.

Beej: Yeah, I just got back.

...

Beej: Also I’ma pass out now so you better catch me.

So he crashes at Lydia’s place, and the whole thing turns into solving the crime as well as Beej’s mysterious aquirement of a beating heart and working lungs. He doesn’t remember how that’s happened, only now everything is Too Much with Too Many Feelings. Speaking of feelings, you bet your ass there is PINING. SO much pining. Lydia’s best friend comes back and suddenly those feelings she’d dismissed as a stupid teenage crush come FLOODING BACK.

While Lydia’s internally feaking out over her feelings (it's totally normal and platonic to wanna kiss your best friend while he sleeps, right??), Beetlejuice is, you guessed it, totally oblivious! To his own feelings especially! All he knows is that it's his best friend only now she seems like a completely different person, and hot. She is now hot. His mad respect for Lydia makes him bury that thought deep, deep down. Also the whole marriage deal is a source on bad memories for both of them and he doesn’t wanna ruin the only good thing he’s ever had and-

Anyway, more pining:

Lydia’s feelings bring out resentment, too. She hates that Beej calls her kid, because that means he still sees her as one, and her ego and her desire for him make her want him to see her, the woman who's seen some real shit in the name of finding the truth, who can take care of herself, and who is very different from that angsty 15 year old girl on the roof.

It all comes ahead to a big confrontation where Lydia is shot, and Beetlejuice has to drag her to the hospital without any knowledge of how human bodies work and he has no magic so he can’t help her-

The hospital needs to know his relationship to her when they take her away, and Beetlejuice knows they wont let him in unless he’s close family so he is blurts out: “Husband. Yeah, I’m her...husband.”

Lydia wakes up with a patched up hole in her side and Beetlejuice clinging to her hand. She’s happy she’s alive, but also angry, because she could have avoided all of this. She was competent enough to not need anyone to rescue her.

She wants to get back on the case as soon as possible, she found the key lead, but Beej doesn’t wanna hear it, cause he saw way too much of her blood and he’s not big on how human bodies work, but he's pretty sure that shit’s supposed to stay inside. They’re arguing when the nurse comes in and adresses him as “Mr. Deetz.”

Lydia snatches the clipboard away, sees that he’s told them she’s his wife, and is livid. Because crush or not the wedding thing had a whole lot of baggage she does not want to unpack. She has to confront the fact that her feelings are for someone who manipulated her into marriage at 15 and who she’s not supposed to see in that way but she does anyway.

And Beej, a dumbass but also angry cause she almost died out of a stupid reckless mistake is like: "Why are you all mad? It was a green card thing. It's not like it means anything." And that gets Lyds even more upset, with him cause he's an idiot, and with herself because she's still pining for someone who, she thinks, still sees her as a child.

Lyds, getting her coat: "Fuck off."

BJ: "Kid-"

Lydia: "Stop calling me that! I haven't been a child since my mother died. I haven't been a child since you showed up! I haven't been a child since I've started this, since I moved here, since the first asshole tried to kill me. I've been through literal hell and I've had to pull myself out of it all on my own because I was still here and you left."

There's a beat of silence as Lydia realizes what she just said.

Lydia: "And that's fine. Because I don't need you. I don't need anyone. You taught me that, at least." She yanks her coat onto her shoulders and turns to go.

BJ, quietly, but its clear he's angry: "Do you think I wanted to leave?"

Lydia: "I don't know what you wanted. Do you even know what you wanted?" She pauses at the door, turns to him. "Do you know what you want, Betelgeuse?"

BJ: "I-"

He stops. He can't look her in the eye anymore. You. I want you. Lydia scoffs, turns to go.

BJ: "Lydia, wait-"

Lydia: "Fuck. Off."

She leaves, and he just stands there, floored by his too little too late realization. Lydia thinks the best thing to do after leaving the hospital with a bullet hole in her side and hopped up on painkillers is to go get drunk! Self-preservation? None

Beetlejuice finally finds her drunk off her ass and suddenly in a great mood. He grabs her under the arms like "Whelp. Time to go."

Lydia: "Nooo come on-"

BJ: "Aren't you on hospital drugs? Doesn't that shit kill you breathers if you mix it all up?"

Lydia: ":D I stopped taking them :'D it hurts like a bitch."

BJ: "I guess I have the shared braincell now. Okay, time to go."

He manages to get her in the car without incident, but when he gets in the driver's seat suddenly Lydia's all over him.

BJ, with a lap full of drunk Lydia: "What. What are you doing."

Lydia: "Beeetlejuice."

BJ: "Yeees?"

Lydia, smiling all dopey as she cups his cheeks: "Beeetlejuuuice."

BJ: "What"

Lydia's finger hovers over his nose, as if to boop him. He closes his eyes. And suddenly her lips are on his. She tastes like alcohol and hospital food and as she pulls away he can't think. Then she starts laughing. "Ha! Gotchaaa! Classic Bait and Switch!"

And he’s pissed.

BJ: "Ha. Ha. Good one, Lyds."

He dumps her out of his lap and into the passenger seat. Lydia blinks in confusion. Now she's cold. She wants to ask, but her mental faculties aren't all with her at the moment. He drives them home and helps her up the stairs before dumping her onto her bed. "Well. Bye." Lydia scrambles up the bed. The car ride gave her enough time to be at least a bit sober, and everything before getting here is blurry. "Where are you going?" Beetlejuice turns around, the widest smile on his face. She's confused for a moment before she realizes he's vibrating with rage. "Ya said you want me gone? Great! You don't need me, you can do your weird little suicidal quest thing yourself!" Lydia looks lost. They had a fight but she'd rarely seen him this angry. "If its about the thing at the hospital, I didn't- I didn't mean it-"

Beetlejuice: "Really? You'd think you'd be glad to have me gone. Why would you want a creep like me around? The whole marriage thing didn't just disappear, after all! Great to know you can still pull one on me, huh?"

Lydia: "Pull what, Beetlejuice-"

She remembers, hazily, the car ride.

They stare at each other for a moment Beej is breathing heavily, he's not used to living person emotions, ones you can feel with your whole body instead of just as an abstract thing, but its clear he's holding back

Lydia: "I wasn't-"

Beej: "You weren't what?"

Lydia (quietly): "It wasn't a joke."

The angry grin slips off Beej's face. He suddenly looks very, very tired. She might have believed just now that he'd lived for millennia.

Beej: “Why are you doin' this, Lyds? Did you know the whole damn time? It's not like I was gonna do anything, I just thought- I just-”

Lydia suddenly realizes that they are having two different conversations. And something else. She looks away, trying to wrap her head around it, and Beetlejuice doesn't read it correctly. He turns to go.

Lydia: “Wait!”

She jumps off the bed, feeling the whole world tip over slightly, still drunk, and stumbled over to him. He catches her instinctively as she grips his forearms for support.

Lydia: “Beej. Beej, look at me.”

She takes his face in her hands, and turns it toward her. He looks so lost, like one word from her might actually break him. She'd only seen that look on his face once before, and she never wants to again.

Lydia takes a breath.

Lydia: “Beetlejuice, I-”

Aaand then she throws up all over his shoes.

She doesn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was in the bathroom, leaning against the door, the toilet was flushed, she was sweating, and he wasn't there.

Lydia: “Beej?”

Beetlejuice (through the door): “...hi”

Lydia: “What-”

BJ: “-happened? Well, that's a story!”

His voice sounds cheerful, but it’s shaking slightly

BJ: “First ya threw up all over us both! then that little experiment of yours with mixing the meds went off, and you started babbling about...rocks? Then we got here, you heaved out the rest of your insides, and then ya kicked me out and said you were gonna shower, and now we're sitting here, so, yeah”

Lydia: “...Are you still covered in puke?”

BJ:”...yeah”

Lydia: “...sorry?”

BJ: “Pshh, what's a best friend if ya can't throw up on 'im a couple times.”

They both fall silent

Beetlejuice (quietly): “Lyds, do ya still want me here?”

...

Lydia takes the time to find the words. Want him here? After everything, he was still asking that question. Did he still think, after all this time, that she'd throw him out at the smallest inconvenience? Would he ever stop thinking that way? Why did he think so now? Was it because he- Because he-

Lydia: “I love you.”

The other side of the door is silent.

Lydia: “I love your stupid laugh. You sound like a fucking cartoon villain, its so fucking obnoxious. I love your jokes, all of them, even the shitty ones- you always look so god damn proud when you say them.”

Is she crying? She tries to wipe at her face, but the tears keep coming.

Lydia: “I loved you since that last day on the roof, and when you left-”

Her throat closes up. She chokes back on her tears, she has to finish it, he has to hear it.

Lydia: “When you left I thought I might die again.”

Lydia: “I kept seeing things, dumb branding on cereal boxes, that shitty college play I went to, my first client, and I kept thinking aw, Beej would have a field day with this one. I thought about what you'd say. You were like a voice I couldn't scrape out of my head, I thought I was going crazy, I thought I'd imagined it all, some lonely little girl with no life or friends, needing someone to talk to- But you'd been real, and then you were just gone- “

The words dissolve in her throat as she sobs, pulling her knees up to her chest. She feels like a child now. She feels more childlike than she had at 15. She’s clinging to a scrap of hope she doesn’t have a right to demand from him. And yet he'd said-

Lydia: “I love you. Please, don't leave.”

They sit is silence for a while. Lydia tries to stop crying. Then, quietly from the other side of the door:

BJ: “You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

Lydia: “Here’s a suicidal teen haha what a riot?”

BJ: “What? No, not then. Like now.”

Lydia: “Oh. What?”

BJ: “I thought wow, who the hell is that and why is she so dang hot?”

Lydia laughs.

BJ: “And then I thought oh God that’s Lydia.”

Something in his voice makes her pause. Maybe it’s the strange fear that she feels coming from him.

BJ: “It’s like, you’re Lydia, and I don’t know shit about you! You’re the same person, but you’re a stranger to me. Lyds, do you know how fucking terrifying that is? You’re someone I never got to know because of a shitty decision I don’t even remember making.”

he falls silent. She can hear the pain in his voice. And something else. Longing.

Beetlejuice: “I’d like to.”

Lydia opens the door. Beetlejuice scrables up, only for her to throw her arms around him.

They figure it out. It’s a slowburn 200k fic that I’ll never write so it takes a while for them to actually kiss, or do anything more, but they get there.

This turned out...ridiculously long XD. I don’t know what you meant by “headcanons”, exactly, but have this instead.

Thanks for the ask!

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alphacoupleofficial · 3 years ago

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Old College Try: Essay Preview

Hi all! I’m working on a real big analysis of Tallahassee, album and website. The first part goes through song-by-song as a kind of expanded Genius annotation, and I’d like to share it here because I really like how it turned out. I’m almost done with the album section of the analysis; stay tuned 🙂

-----

And here’s another highlight of the album! The fun songs are in the first half, the bangers are in the second. Here, our narrator essentially renews his vows. He goes over their hardships and batshit insane journey together, then swears he’ll never leave his wife, as long as she never leaves him. Pretty simple.

Setting first. We talk about a couple of different locations. Houses, gutters, oceans, cities, swamplands, highways, what do they all have in common? Well, this is a reflection on their journey east, and how they got here geographically and emotionally. “Housetops to the gutters” draws a comparison between being on top of the world and being “in the gutter” - a state of failure and ruin. “Ocean to the shore” is because they’re literally washed up, and “Cities to the swamplands” and “Highways to the hills” are both reflections on their (semi-)rural location.

So, now who wants to talk about worrying implications? I do! Our narrator and his wife are using FUCKING AMPHETAMINES! Those are the cross-tops. Acquired illegally, presumably, because it is a very bad idea to take a stimulant while also having an alcohol use disorder. Stimulants don't sober you up; all they do is make you more awake, and therefore less able to gauge how intoxicated you are. Anyways, they're also taking Elavil, which is an antidepressant that is rarely prescribed due to its side effects. Aspirins round everything out - something tells me they’ve got some pretty killer headaches.

This helps to set up the chorus(?) - “I will walk all the way down to the end with you / If you will come all the way down with me”. The wording “come all the way down” implies an overdose or at least a death by the hand of their vices. (Ultimately, cigarettes are what do them in. In Oceanographer’s Choice, the narrator puts one out on the wall.) Til death do they part, I guess.

What about the narrative implications of that, though? Our narrator is willing to die… but only alongside his wife. He’s afraid of being alone, and I think that’s partially absolving him of his guilt. As long as someone else does it with him, it’s normal and fine, and he’s not as responsible for it. Most of that is speculation on my part, but what isn’t is that shame - “I want to say I’m sorry for stuff I haven’t done yet”.

By now, though, it’s too late to back out. The lyrical structure of the song has implied a sense of motion to this point - describing locations and objects and moving between them, walking and coming - until “From the entrance to the exit / Is longer than it looks from where we stand”. Here, our narrator pauses to consider the relationship, himself, and his anxiety. Then he looks at his wife, and our motion resumes - “I will walk down to the end with you / If you will come all the way down with me”. All this mirrors the emotional arc, throughout the album and in the first song. “What did I come down here for? / You”. “Weak last gasp of the evening’s dying light” even keeps our mind’s eye on the face, between “skin on my face” and “In the way those eyes I’ve always loved”. IT’S TOO GOOD! Album’s too good y’all. This is the only music. Everyone else can go home.

And now, my favorite part of the whole song: “In the way those eyes I’ve always loved illuminate this place / Like a trashcan fire in a prison cell / Like the searchlights in the parking lots of hell”. When I heard this for the first time I NEEDED A MINUTE. Goddamn that is raw. Our narrator is comparing his spouse to flame and heat and most importantly, desperation. Fires generally do not belong in prisons, unless something is going very wrong! The images that come to mind for me are huddling around one source for light and warmth, with no other option. And those are searchlights - something is hunting the narrator, be it his wife or an outside force.

Old College Try is our last calm, relatively uneventful song. Shit goes real south in the next one. For now, let’s hit the roundup.

#hal.mp3 #tmg #the mountain goats #tallahassee album #tmg tallahassee #old college try #tallahassee #analysis

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years ago

Text

Untouchable Ch 21: Elephant’s Memory (S3E16)

Warnings: murder, mentions of terrorism, mentions of drugs and addiction

Ch 20 | Ch 22

~ ~ ~

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer said, speaking up for the first time on their drive.

“You’re proud of me?” she asked, startled.

“Yes,” he argued. “Look at you! You’ve got a car now. Twenty-four years old, teaching two college classes and working for the FBI.”

“I’m more proud of you!” she shot back. “A full year sober! I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” Spencer sunk slightly in the passenger seat.

After the death of Ryan Phillips in front of the two of them, Spencer had been struggling with his cravings again. He hadn’t relapsed, of course, but he was plagued by nightmares and a lack of motivation. When he admitted this to Lydia, she’d suggested he look up some support meetings nearby. Tonight was going to be his first time attending the Beltway Clean Cops group.

“I’m more than happy to come along!”

The two of them sat in the back of the room, listening calmly to different people talk about their situations. Spencer had just gotten the courage to take the stage when Lydia got a text from Hotch.

Briefing in 30. Can’t get ahold of Reid. Please tell him.

Lydia dropped her head into her hands. Could it not wait just a few more moments? He had barely started speaking aloud and Lydia could see him trying to ignore the buzzing phone in his pocket.

“Hi. Uh… My name’s, uh, Spencer, and I’m uh… I don’t really know what I am.”

“Hello Spencer,” the crowd greeted.

“This is my- This is my first meeting,” he sputtered, his eyes locking with Lydia’s every few seconds. “I guess I, uh… I know I had a… a problem with Dilaudid, but… I stopped. My girlfriend helped me to stop about a year ago. I thought it was over, but recently I’ve really been… your literature uses the term ‘craving’. It started about a month ago. A- A suspect was murdered in front of me. A kid. And I thought that I could save that kid, but I couldn’t, and… Sorry.” He pulled out his phone, rejecting another call from their boss. “I’ve seen a lot of that stuff before, but for some reason that kid’s face is really, uh… stuck in my brain. You know? It’s really- I can’t… And I want to forget… about him. And I just want to escape.”

Once again, he pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away from the microphone, mumbling his apologies. Lydia got up and ran around to the side door to follow him out.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they met up and started walking to the car. “I didn’t want to interrupt you-”

“It’s fine,” he breezed. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

~ ~ ~

“Sorry we’re late,” Spencer announced as he and Lydia jogged into the conference room..

“Do I want to know what you two were up to?” Morgan teased.

Lydia was quick to cover Spencer’s secret for him. “You sound as if going to the movies is scandalous.”

“Movies, hm?” Rossi joined. “Tell us what the movie was about.”

“Wouldn’t know. We didn’t get to finish it.”

Both boys gave the couple a look. Spencer started to shrink in his seat, but Lydia kept up her stance, not wanting them to push for anymore answers.

“I know it’s late,” Hotch interrupted. “I know we’re tired, but we’ve got two dead cops.”

“Alright.” JJ opened up the file in front of her and continued briefing the team, pointing to what looked to be a massive house fire displayed on the scene. “The resident, Rod Norris, was DOA. They’re still trying to ID the remains of the second victim, whom they believe is his 16-year-old daughter Jordan. From the condition of the remains, she would have had to have been inside the house, close to the source of the blast.”

“Clearly they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush,” Emily noted.

Spencer nodded. “It’s a well-established terrorist tactic. The first wave takes out civilians, the second wave takes out first responders.”

“The locals are thinking terrorism?” Morgan asked. “In West Bune, Texas?”

JJ nodded. “Not exactly a tier-one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday, just due to the timing and nature of the attacks.”

As the team argued about the chances of this being an actual terrorist attack, Lydia looked over her file. An explosive went off in Rod Norris’s house, and when two cops arrived on the scene, they were shot. Hotch probably wanted her working on identifying the explosive and seeing if there is any evidence to recover from the house.

Simple enough.

~ ~ ~

“The blast was localized here,” Lydia announced as she walked onto the scene. “The room was sealed off. There’s plastic and duct tape on the doors and windows.”

“Cordite,” Rossi added as he smelled something on the ground. “Gunpowder.”

Reid was looking through his file. “Yeah. They found a dozen canisters, it says.”

Rossi and Prentiss put their heads together, determining where Jordan and Rod were standing when the explosion happened. Lydia ran her fingers over the door frames. Whoever set this up wouldn’t need to clean up their evidence. There was no way she could recover anything out of the pile of ashes that used to be the Norris house.

“They didn’t care about the rest of the house,” Spencer said, more to Lydia than the others. “The whole thing’s designed to focus the blast on whoever came through that door.”

“If that’s true, something had to trigger the blast,” she reasoned.

Emily held up a charred box of cigarettes. “Rod Norris was a smoker.”

Lydia glanced at the floor where all the gunpowder had been set. Drop a hot cigarette on that? Kaboom.

“I’ve been working with you profilers long enough to know that no terrorist is going to watch Rod Norris long enough to know that he was going to enter through this door and be smoking a cigarette at a specific time,” Lydia replied. “This is too personal.”

~ ~ ~

The more they learned, the more the case reeked of personal problems.

Their unsub was a boy named Owen Savage. His father was one of the responding officers on the Norris scene. He’d staged the explosion to kill Jordan Norris’s dad and look like Jordan had died too. Then, when his father showed up, he shot him and his partner. They were pretty sure that Jordan wasn’t a part of the murders and was either a hostage or was completely unaware of the situation. She had been dating Owen for a long time, so it was likely she had agreed to leave with him, without checking in with her father.

Lydia had been talking with Garcia about the teens’ families when she saw Spencer storm away out of the corner of her eye. He had just… left.

Finishing up her conversation, she ran over to Hotch.

“Did you send Spencer away?”

“Have you seen how he’s been acting?” Hotch snapped.

She wasn’t surprised to hear that Spencer was moody. Leaving that meeting so suddenly was hard for him and he was still dealing with Ryan Phillips’s death. Working on another teen-involved case was probably not helping.

“Lydia, you two promised-”

“This isn’t a relationship thing!” she defended before he could say anything else. “He’s dealing with something else. The only reason I’m involved is because he told me about it. Please just…”

“Talk to him,” Hotch ordered. “His passive aggressive attitude is going to get him into trouble. The town’s already pissed we’re here.”

Lydia nodded, switching topics. “I heard that Officer Lett’s wife freaked out on you guys earlier. I’m sorry.”

“The police are under a lot of pressure to find who did this. They don’t need some angsty teen from the FBI telling them they’re stupid as well.”

She blinked. “He called someone stupid?”

“Talk to him,” Hotch repeated, ignoring her question.

“Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~

“Has she calmed yet?” Lydia asked Emily.

They had been able to get in contact with Jordan Norris and tell her about what Owen had done, convincing her to run away from him and join them in the station, but she still didn’t fully trust them. It’d taken much persuasion and a lot of promises not to hurt Owen for her to give up where he was hiding. And now she was sobbing, half in fear, half in shame, in one of the private rooms in the station.

“No,” Emily replied, bluntly, on her way to get the girl another cup of water. “Did you hear from Hotch?”

Lydia nodded. “Owen wasn’t at the ranch. He left a note, I guess, about returning his mother’s necklace.”

Emily simply shrugged. “He can’t have gotten far. I’m sure the rest of the team will find him.”

She walked back to the grieving girl, who JJ was currently comforting, leaving Lydia alone in the bullpen of the station. That is, until Spencer came rushing in, brushing past her to get to their evidence boards.

“Spencer?” she called, already on his heels. “Why are you back?”

“They think he’s going to his mother’s grave,” he breathed, yanking a photo from the board and then looking around for Jordan.

“Isn’t he?” she demanded, seeing that the picture he had grabbed was the photo of Owen’s mother that he kept on his laptop. She was smiling, pointing to her necklace, which said ‘Hope’.

Hotch had assumed by Owen’s note that Owen was taking that necklace to his mother’s grave, as a way of ‘giving it back’ to her. But when Spencer interrupted Jordan and JJ’s conversation, throwing the photo in the young girl’s face, Lydia understood what he was thinking.

“He was gone when we got to the ranch. I want to save his life, but I need to ask you a question. This necklace-- he gave it to you?”

He spoke so fast, it was hard to differentiate between sentences, but Jordan took a second to process what he had said, then nodded. “I left it at the ranch.”

“He’s coming here,” Spencer said, already on his way out of the station.

Lydia jumped in front of him, already holding up a hand to stop him. “He’s going to do everything he can to get to Jordan.”

“I can’t let him do this, Lydia,” he hissed, trying to push past her. “It’s a suicide mission. I won’t let him die.”

“I know this is hard for you,” she told him, still maintaining eye contact to keep him in place. “But I can’t let you do this alone. Tell me the plan, and we walk out together.”

He glanced at the door, clearly anxious to leave before Owen got there. But his eyes were somewhat relieved to tell her what he was going to do. “Leave your gun. He wants to go down shooting. If we don’t have weapons, he has no reason to kill us. The only thing he wants more than death, is to apologize to Jordan so… I have to make it clear that that’s still an option.”

Lydia was already pulling her gun from its holster, setting it down on the desk beside her. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He nodded, sternly, and unarmed, the two of them walked out of the station, side by side.

The sun was unbearable outside. The two of them could barely see Owen’s dark figure approaching down the block, but the shotgun across his chest was hard to miss. Lydia’s hands were already up, her palms facing outwards. Spencer followed suit as the boy saw them approaching and aimed his weapon in their direction.

“Reid!” Prentiss screamed, leaving the station just in time to watch them walk into danger. “Ambers!”

The two of them ignored her, Spencer stepping forward to speak. “Owen, we don’t have guns on us. My name is Spencer, this is Lydia, we’re with the FBI, and we’re here to help you.”

“Yeah?” he cried. “I need you to stay back.”

There were tires squealing behind them and Lydia finally glanced behind her to see a black SUV with Rossi, Morgan, and Hotch inside pull up behind them. As Spencer continued, they threw open the doors and positioned themselves behind them, guns at the ready.

“I know the only reason you joined the wrestling team was for your father. I know that he blamed you for what happened-”

“Stay back! Right where you are!”

“-I also know the only reason you killed Rod Norris and Kyle Borden was to protect Jordan. I know the harder you tried, the worse it got, and it felt like everyone just stood there watching you suffer, and not a single person even tried to help.”

“They didn’t,” Owen sobbed. “They didn’t.”

“I know you want to escape… and forget. Believe me when I say I know… I know exactly how that feels.”

Lydia, listened to him speak. This case with Owen was really hard for him. She knew that he was dealing with cravings, but the way he spoke to Owen made her think it was something more. She’d never imagined that highschool was easy for Spencer. He was only 12 at the time. But there was clearly something specific on his mind.

Lydia kept glancing back so that she could position herself between Owen and the rest of the team. Hotch was going to kill her later. She was certain of it. But she was convinced that they were more likely to shoot Owen than Owen was likely to shoot her or Spencer. And for Spencer’s sake, she’d do anything to keep Owen from dying.

“Owen, there’s so much more for you out there,” Lydia finally spoke up.

“No. No, I’m already dead.”

“You aren’t dead,” she promised. “If you die, you’re going to leave Jordan. And right now, she’s in the station begging us not to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to leave her like your mother left you,” Spencer agreed.

“Ok.” Owen’s head shook wildly, trying to keep the upper hand on the situation. “Bring her to me. Bring her outside.”

“I can’t bring her outside,” Spencer quickly told him. “But, if you put the gun down, I swear to god, I’ll take you to her. I promise, nobody will hurt you. You’ll say goodbye to her, and you’ll give her the necklace. Alright? So what do you say? Let’s put the gun down. Let’s go inside.”

Lydia could see the battle in Owen’s mind, so she added, “Owen, Jordan loves you so much. If not for your sake, come in peacefully for hers. She’s been through so much, don’t let her live with this on her conscience as well.”

Finally, he nodded, reaching underneath his overcoat and taking the strap of the shotgun off his shoulder. Pointing it away, he stepped forward and put the weapon softly on the ground.

Now that he was unarmed, Lydia stepped to the side and let the team see Owen, his arms already above his head.

“They have to cuff you now, Owen,” Lydia told him calmly, trying to maintain eye contact with him so he didn’t see all the FBI agents running towards him and freak out. Spencer moved the gun aside and stepped up next to her. “You did so good, Owen. I know this is scary, but just stay calm. I promise we’re taking you to Jordan right now.”

“You two okay?” Morgan asked as he grabbed Owen's arms and locked them behind his back.

Spencer nodded, patting the boy down and pulling a knife from his belt as well as his mother’s necklace. “We’re fine.”

Lydia turned and finally made eye contact with Hotch. A very, very pissed off Hotch.

~ ~ ~

The night had hit fast and the whole plane was quiet. Lydia leaned into Spencer’s shoulder, her mind drifting with everything that had happened on the case. As much as she had to be worried about, her mind kept coming back to the same point: despite how stressed he was, Spencer told her the plan. He let her come with him. And that said volumes about the trust between the two of them. She knew that. She could see it so clearly now.

The strong connection she felt to him in the moment, couldn’t even be broken when Hotch sat down across from the two of them, his face a state of unwavering seriousness.

“You two knowingly jeopardize your lives and the lives of others. I should fire you both.”

Reid bit down on his lip nervously. “You have to understand that this was entirely my idea, sir.”

“Ambers?” Hotch addressed. “Do you believe Reid deserves the blame for this?”

“No, sir.”

Despite his clear anger, Lydia knew that Hotch wasn’t going to fire them. In fact, she doubted they’d get much punishment at all. He was good at understanding the intentions of his team.

He looked at Spencer again. “You’re the smartest kid in the room, but you’re not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, don’t expect lenience from me. The same goes for you, Lydia. Am I clear?”

Spencer nodded immediately, “Yes, sir,” with Lydia following suit.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” Spencer added.

“What were you thinking?”

Lydia dropped her hand over her boyfriend’s and waited patiently for him to answer. She may have followed him into the line of fire, but in the end, it was his decision, which would have happened with or without her.

“I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me.”

“You’re keeping score.” Hotch shook his head in warning. “Just like Owen.”

“It was my turn to save one,” Spencer joked, without much of the humor.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“It should.”

Lydia listened intently to their conversation. This was obviously a talk the Spence needed to have with his boss on his own. They both needed to address the death of Ryan Phillips.

“I know it’s painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy,” Hotch told him and Spencer’s eyes fell to his intertwined fingers with Lydia.

“What does that make me?”

“Good at the job.” For the first time that night, there seemed to be a hint of a smile on his face.

Lydia leaned back onto her boyfriend’s shoulder as the unit chief stood up, but he continued to speak to them as he stepped into the walkway of the jet.

“I know it’s none of my business, but when we land, I think you should go and catch the rest of that movie.”

Lydia almost stupidly asked him what he was referring to, forgetting all about the cover she had set up for them at the beginning of the case to excuse their tardiness.

“He has to know that was a lie,” Spencer mumbled into her hair.

“No doubt,” she agreed. “But I think he knows that whatever it was was important to the two of us. That’s all that really matters, right?”

“Right,” he whispered, tiredly drifting off against her side.

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @arthurmorrgans, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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harritudur · 4 years ago

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because every ship needs its ‘we accidentaly got married in Vegas’ AU, so here the noabeth version (AO3 link) 1860 words + pg-13 + no beta, we die like men!

Elisabeth wakes up to a headache, her head pounding too heavily to her liking. As she becomes more and more conscious, her eyes slowly crack open. This is… not her room. Then she notices a cheap plastic ring on her left hand (the kind of ridiculous rings you get for 2$ from capsule-toys distributors) and a warm lump curled against her side.

Well fuck.

The memories of the last 24 hours come flooding back:

—the fly to Las Vegas —the international congress about renewable energy sources —the four boring hours of conference she attended to (without sign language interpreter, thank you) —the open-bar on the second floor —the tall blonde man she already run into two weeks ago in Berlin, and couldn’t stop thinking about since then —his fingers as he tried to remember the few words in sign langage his mother taugh him years ago —his face as he explained his presence to attend the conference of Dr… something? about… doctrines? or was it churches? —his eyes dancing on her bare knee when she crossed her legs —his name she couldn’t stop mouthing between glasses of vodka —N-O-A-H —his hand, warm on her low back when they left the bar —his lips pressed to hers in the elevator —Noah —his arms around her waist as they walked out the hotel —alcohol —music —his mouth —the irresistible perfum she breathed in when her nose brushed the soft skin beside his ear —alcohol —the flashing lights —his mouth —more alcohol —a song —his fucking delicious mouth —giggles ��a chapel —a kiss —a hotel room…

She stops and checks under the sheet.

THANKS GOD! Her shirt and skirt are still on.

With great care, Elisabeth stretches to observe her partner in crime. Even turned towards the wall as he is, she can tell he is still sleeping by the quiet rise and fall of his bare shoulders. She decides to take a more attentive look at him and the first thing she notices is a plastic ring of the same quality than hers on his left hand. Oh God. Then, the edge of a tattoo catchs her eyes, linen covering most of his back.

Leaves? Maybe flowers?

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Elisabeth pushes the sheet away to reveal the entire tattoo. A tree, with a classic design. Its branches large and full of leaves and fruits (apples), and its roots deep in the soil, each ramification, each bisection leading to a name. Religious names, but from different faiths.

Beautiful.

It’s only when he shudders lightly that she realizes her fingertips were tracing over the ink on his back. By the vibration she feels under them, he is murmuring something and her hand moves away.

After a few yawns, Noah turns over, and a soft smile begins to work its way across his face when his eyes land on Elisabeth.

“That dream again…” he whispers, so faintly she can’t read his lips. But his brief delight disappears when a violent migraine encircles his skull. He blinks, and remembers a few drinks, a few laughs, a few kisses, and… what else? He can’t tell. His incompetent brain makes him groan and Noah covers up his face with his left hand. As he does, something not supposed to be there touches his cheek, and he blinks again before muttering. “What the-”

A silly plastic band around his ring finger. “-fuck??!!”

The memory of his own voice singing loud and off-key Bruno Mars’ Marry You starts to haunt Noah’s ears, and the face of an Elvis Presley in a white rhinestone jumpsuit with a priest’s collar pops right into his mind.

“… oh. Oh.”

Everything is spinning a little around him, but pieces by pieces, the puzzle of the last night starts to reconstitute itself.

“Hm wellllllll… so apprently, we drank a lot,” Noah says as he sits up, cross-legged, and is now facing his wife. “And… we got married.”

The calm in his tone can not be heard, but Elisabeth sees it on his lips, his face, his attitude, his body… This whole situation seems absolutely normal and not upsetting for him, and she just wants to scream.

With great suppleness (which Noah remarks by an eyebrow-raising), Elisabeth reaches for her purse on the ground by the bed, and takes out her loyal notepad and blue pencil to write.

you’re not freaking out?

“Not really, no” he replies, shrugging. “And… It was your idea after all.”

She has to make him repeat the last part, because there is no way that she is at the initiative of this non-sense. Noah repeats the same words, with that astounding calm, and Elisabeth rolls her eyes in a cocky way. She writes down on a new page, in capital:

IMPOSSIBLE

“Yes. Your idea.”

Her head shakes. No. She is a rational woman. A reasonable woman. Sure, this Noah is sexy and hot and funny and smart and courteous and totally her kind of guy and she is definitely attracted to him… but no. No way! She is not the instigator. Or, is she?

Noah smiles at her gently and her chest suddenly tightens. Fuck.

After a tilt of his head to ask for permission, he takes the notepad from her hands and flippes through the previous pages. In doing so, Noah can go back in time, can witness and find passed conversations, and he eventually stops at one page. He smiles again and shows it to Elisabeth.

There, in blue, little hearts all around, a shaky handwriting that she identifies as hers:

<3< 3 marrY ME pleas e <3</i>

“If I remember correctly, you wanted us to get married, and I said no at first -because I thought it had to be a joke. But you almost started to cry. So…” he explains at an Elisabeth deathly pale. “I said yes. And we went to a chapel with an Elvis-priest.”

There is a furrow between Elisabeth’s eyebrows and she just wants the earth to open up and to swallow her. It takes her a long minute to processes the information he just gave and, like a sliver of light through the darkness, she… remembers.

[ she nuzzled into his neck, his arms secure around her waist, and breathed him in. He laughed and Elisabeth felt a warmth rush over her. Alcohol or Noah? She moved away to enjoy the enticing sight and kissed him again. And again. And again. Her hands started to dance in the air, before she could even think about it, and signed: marry me. ]

All the details of the night or their chronology are still nebulous. But she clearly remembers *that* moment, and the way she felt. The feelings. The want. The need to have this man. To claim him as hers. Where did such impetuous desires come from?

She looks up and Noah’s eyes are still on her face, but the calm in them shifts into something different. Trouble? Worry? No. Care, Elisabeth recognizes.

He gets off the bed to look for his shirt and she can’t help but huffes her disappointment when he finds it. Now decent (except for his bed-hair), he stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips in a superhero pose, the one you use when you need confidence and nerve. His face softens into a tender look that makes Elisabeth’s breath hitch in her throat. Again.

“So, now that we’re all better, and sober,“ he says, walking back towards the bed and stops at its edge, “I guess I’ll go get us a divorce.”

A gasp leaves her lips and she sits up straight on the mattress. Divorce. How Elisabeth hates the word. Her parents divorced when she was still in her early teens and, witnessed the torment and tears, and she became determined, more than anything, not to be like them. To marry just once, for good! And with the man of her life.

She shakes her head. One of Noah’s eyebrows arches.

“No?”

She shakes her head once more and this time, mouthes her answer. No.

Noah gulps. It is not the reaction he expected, but it is not an unpleasant one neither. He glances at the end table next to the bed, observing a piece of paper on top. Their marriage licence.

[ they tumbled onto the bed, a mess of tipsy giggles and limbs. Noah pulled away to place kisses all over the side of Elisabeth’s jaw and neck, but she grabbed his face to press his mouth against hers. When Noah came up for air, a giant grin spread across his flushed face. She looked up at him with a tired but tender smile, and her fingers found the buttons on his shirt, too clumsy to work properly. “Let me…” he whispered against her lips, hovering just above them and Elisabeth took her chance to kiss him quickly before falling back on the mattress with a sigh. With difficulty, he eventually took off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. When he looked down, Elisabeth was snoring, dead to the world, and he laughed. Tiredness was taking over him as well, and Noah curled-up in the bed next to her. He pushed gently a stand of golden hair off her face before falling into sleep without a second thought ]

He nods.

“Okay?”

i don’t want to divorce. we could try. and i think i like you.

Her eyes glare at him with demand and Noah tries to find arguments against it. In vain. And he figures out how they ended up in this situation: he is unable to say ‘no’ to her (adorable) stubbornness. But is her ‘i like you’ enough to build a marriage on?

“Okay, okay… we can try and work it out,” Noah states as he sits by her side on the bed so she can read his lips more easily. “And… if we look at the situation in a practical way, there are benefits. Tax benefits. Insurance benefits. I read as well that marriage help you live longer!”

She laughs and he notices the dimples from her smile. Once more, her pen moves quickly over the paper.

marital confidences privilege too

This time, he is the one to smile, and his knee touches hers through the sheet.

“True! I mean… if I decide one day to kill people, I could tell you every details, and yet, you couldn’t testify against me.”

She tiltes her head, an almost curious expression appearing on her face as she looked at him. Then a grin, and more writing.

i was more talking about civil procedure for neighbourhood disputes but im in to cover up your murders

He laughs and Elisabeth wishes she can hear the sound of it. She easily understands how drunk-her could have wanted this man to be hers. Noah moves closer, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he doesn’t. And a part of Elisabeth wants him to.

Maybe when the time will be right -and after they both have brushed their teeth.

“I will order a very light brunch for two then.”

Noah eventually leans over to kiss her cheek and Elisabeth doesn’t withdraw. She could get used to that.

#okay BUT THEY BOTH TOTALY WILL KEEP THE PLASTIC RINGS -EVEN AT WORK #she will have very serious meeting with the CEO of the TIEDERMANN company #and he will gives courses in front of hundred of students about religions #WITH THEIR RIDICULOUS PLASTIC RINGS (THAT THEY SECRETLY CHERISH)#noah x elisabeth #elisabeth doppler #hanno tauber #noah dark #noabeth #noahbeth #YES i need all the au

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

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Following off that other persons question..how do u think Nikki was in relationships besides the assgole addict side? What kept people to stay with him? I guess in other words what was he like back then in relationships when he wasn’t high out of his mind?

All I've read from other peoples books and comments made over the years from people around him and the guys that time is that Nikki was easy going and fun to be around when he was sober. I imagine he was like that in relationships, too. Lita Ford was with him for a while when they were just starting out in the L.A. scene and I can only imagine he had to have been good enough to her that she was with him for as long as she was. (Side note--that car accident he was in in either '82/'83 was because he wanted to go home and see Lita, which is nice that he went through the trouble of getting out of that house to go see his girlfriend because he missed her). Not saying he was a perfect angel but I think his main source of his bad decisions stemmed from his alcohol and drugs and shit from his childhood. I think Lita stayed with him because he wasn't in the thick of addiction and wasn't an asshole compared to his relationships with Nicole and Vanity--which were both based on drugs and partying which is probably why those girls stayed with him (and not to be shallow but he was very attractive and it's been said he was good in bed so that probably helped his case), I'm sure Vanity loved him the best she could, I'm sure Nicole loved him the best she could, it wouldn't surprise me if (contrary to what he's let on in his books) he loved them the best he could/only way he knew how to at the time, but I think in both of those relationships they were all too sick to really seek an actual relationship that didn't require them to get high together.

I remember him mentioning in his relationship with his first wife that he was in love with her in a matter of dates and that's why they got married so quick but before their first son was born they both knew they shouldn't have gotten married but both wanted to stick it out for each other and their son and it just got worse over the years (and according to him he never cheated on her, in fact he turned women that tried to come on to him down), not to mention he cried when he found out his first wife cheated on him so he cared enough about the marriage to let himself be miserable if it meant staying together, until she cheated.

He got married to his second wife a month after his divorce from his first wife was finalized so...again...Nikki was falling in love fast left and right when he wasn't on drugs constantly and I read in Heroin Diaries 10 year edition that he told his wife Courtney he didn't want to get married again when they were dating but decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and knew marriage was low-key something she wanted so he decided to get married again afterall which is really sweet that they both love each other that much that he recognized the point and good things that marriage represented to him before he got married the first time.

I got off topic. Sorry.

Moral of the story: sober Nikki back then in relationships --not perfect but does his best to do right by them most the time

Addiction Nikki back then in relationships--has multiple girlfriends, multiple sexual partners, has to have a partner/girlfriend that does heavy drugs, too, thinks of sex as a form of masterbation for when he's bored, moody asshole, verbally and physically abusive to his friends/people around him and probably the same way in relationships (verbally abusive, at least--the only time I've ever heard of him being physically abusive to a girl was when he and Vanity got into that fight I mentioned earlier.)

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tiger-manya · 4 years ago

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So, my Miraculous Ulysses AU.

I was genuinely surprised how many people responded to this (which is like… ten, but still). Thank you everyone, @furryhamlet in particular. I don’t know how serious I am about this, but does anybody really?

First, let us take a moment to establish the main similarities between Ulysses, a modernist masterpiece by James Joyce, and Miraculous Ladybug, a (debatably metamodern?) kids show:

puns;

the revolutionary new trope of main hero having a dead mother and the resulting father issues (never done before or after);

farts and bathroom humour (more prevalent in Ulysses, of course).

I think everything is quite clear.

And now, without further ado, Miraculous Ulysses AU:

It’s still Dublin, it’s still 1904, but now there’s also magic. And superheroes.

Stephen Dedalus has a black cat miraculous; Buck Mulligan has a bee miraculous; Simon Dedalus has a butterfly miraculous (not because I think it suits him, but because someone has to); Leopold Bloom is the guardian, but he doesn't do a very good job; Molly is often Ladybug, but it's not like she cares a lot.

All of them, of course, have different names for their alternate personas, but I'm not clever enough with names and not skilled enough with English language. Let's just say: Simon doesn't bother; Bloom comes up with a name for every person he gives a miraculous to, but none of them use those; Stephen has a million names, all very deep and clever, but the only one that stuck is whatever Mulligan mockingly called him that one time; and I don't know what's Bee!Mulligan name is, but it's inappropriate for general audiences.

I’ll have some placeholder names to make it easier for myself. Stephen may remain Chat Noir (he would probably name himself after a cabaret, at least to honour his teenage rebellion against church); Simon Dedalus can be Moth Daddy; Buck is… idk, Hornet? Hornet will do.

May Dedalus, Stephen’s mother, died not from cancer but from the misuse of the damaged peacock miraculous. After her death, Simon started akumatizing people into villains. He’s aware of the wish, but at this point it’s mostly about revenge to Chat Noir.

(Chat Noir might be the one who damaged the peacock miraculous in the first place, but it never said outright.)

He, of course, doesn't know anything about his son being Chat. Stephen, however, knows everything about his parents, but has no idea what to do with this information. It's a source of his resentment, but he can't bring himself to properly sort out his feelings.

Mulligan and Stephen know nothing about each other’s alternate identities. Stephen is friends with Mulligan mostly because his father doesn't want it. He actually resents Mulligan a lot, but is sympathetic towards Hornet because sees him as someone similar to him, someone who could actually understand his world-view and take it seriously. Chat spends some efforts to turn Hornet to his side but to no avail. Mulligan, on the other hand, thinks Chat Noir is a pretentious prick, but has a lot of genuine admiration for Stephen, even though he hides it under the layers of sarcasm and cynicism, as he doesn't want to be seen as weak. And that is your love square, everybody.

Hornet starts out as an independent party, but at some point begins working for Moth. Naturally, Simon finds out his identity and that’s the main reason he doesn’t want to see him anywhere near his son.

It’s Bloom who deals with the most akuma emergencies. He often recruits different dubliners to his side, but almost none of them stick to the job. Chat helps time to time, even though this help is often incidental, and he’s a lot more interested in Hornet shenanigans. Bloom is aware of Chat, but they never have time to properly talk to each other. Bloom wants to meet him; Bloom is searching for him.

The guardian duties tire him a lot. Bloom inherited the miracle box from his father with three miraculous already missing. Later he lost the fourth one, the bee miraculous, which he considers his greatest mistake. His relationship with Molly is not that great either. She used to regularly take a role of Ladybug, but after her singing career took off, she started losing interest. Nowadays Bloom often gives the ladybug miraculous to other women. Gerty is one of them.

Boylan is there somewhere. There’s probably an episode where he gets akumatized and Bloom and Molly are the ones to deal with it (very awkward for all parties).

Just so you know, the masturbation scene is still there.

There are a lot of Odyssey themed akumas. For instance, local back-seat political expert The Citizen is turned into Cyclops.

There was one person Stephen tried to tell about Chat Noir. A few years ago, before his run off to Paris, he tried talking to Cranly about the ring. He immediately got excited about the possibilities, insisted he and Stephen could work together as a superhero team. Stephen tried to explain himself, but ultimately saw that Cranly wouldn't ever understand. He brushed the whole thing off as a joke and never returned to it. At some point, Stephen thinks he should reveal himself to Mulligan, but then remembers Cranly and decides against it.

Haines’s dream about panther hunting is still there and now it cuts even deeper.

There’s a Chat Blanc type episode. It’s called Pangur Bán and it’s about the horrifying alternate reality of Stephen staying in Ireland (it’s not that bad, actually, but Stephen has a meltdown).

Ultimately, Stephen finds out Hornet is Mulligan. That's what seals his betrayal to Stephen, so there is nothing he could do but go to the brothel and get drunk. What led him to this discovery is that during their last encounter Hornet reused one of Stephen's aphorisms only Mulligan could know at that point. (He also grossly misquoted it and twisted the meaning.)

It’s in the brothel that Bloom recognizes Stephen (who is severely drunk at this point) as a son of his friend and saves him from the trouble he’s about to lead himself into. That’s when he notices the ring and realizes that Stephen is Chat Noir.

Bloom is happy beyond belief. He’s finally met someone he could share his guardian duties with. He buys Stephen some food and lets him sober up a bit, afterwards he invites him to his home and proposes a plan. Stephen could live in Bloom’s house with a better, more stable job. Bloom could share all his guardian knowledge with him, so he could better control his powers. They could work together as a team to finally bring Moth and Hornet to justice and end all this mess. Finally, Stephen could become the next guardian and have a miracle box all to himself. He responds to this with silence. Bloom apologizes and says he understands it’s a lot to take in, so he tells Stephen to think on it until morning.

Bloom falls asleep near his wife, full of hope for the future.

Before dawn, Stephen leaves Bloom’s house with his ring and his wallet. He plans to spend his last money on a ticket to France.

Before we end, a few things about an ideal media format for this AU:

It’s an animated tv series, at least 3 seasons long.

The style and quality of animation varies drastically from episode to episode, sometimes suddenly changing in the middle of one. There are at least 9 studious working on this, the communication between them isn’t great.

It all takes place in one day, 16 June 1904, but the viewers can’t tell that for sure until the last episode. This revelation might frustrate them at first, but once they’ll look back, they realize it kind of makes sense, as there is hardly any change of weather or time of day during the vast majority of episodes.

Unfortunately, it will be very hard to look back at, as all the episodes are aired out of order.

The series is broadcasted in many countries, each of which has its own order of episodes. And none of them has a full translation. Actually, nobody can have a full translation, until the thing becomes public domain. Until then, there are only automatically generated and machine translated subtitles. And fansubs, I guess.

Not to mention it gets banned really quickly in a lot of places.

The fans lose their mind, trying to establish continuity. There are multiple theories and theme tables to make sense of it all. The meaning also can change drastically, depending on the order you watch it in, so there are full-blown fandom continuity wars. People go mad. People die. It feels like a fever dream.

But once it all put together?

Absolute masterpiece.

Thank you for reading. Sorry for any mistakes or awkward English.

Was this necessary? No. Will I stand by it? Well, yes I said yes I will Yes

#miraculous ladybug #ulysses #james joyce #Stephen Dedalus #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous au #Buck Mulligan #Leopold Bloom #Simon Dedalus #May Dedalus #miraculous holders #crack #?#i'm sorry #or am i really?

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fanyiyimdzs · 5 years ago

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Mo Dao Zu Shi: Chapter 2

Masterpost

Previous chapter

Wei Wuxian wanted to wash his face and pay his respects to his body’s former owner, but the room had no water—none for drinking, none for washing. Nothing.

The single bowl, he guessed, was meant for bodily wastes, and thus could not be used for his purposes.

He pushed on the door but found that it had been bolted shut, presumably because the family feared Mo Xuanyu would go outside and cause trouble.

There wasn’t a single thing about this situation that allowed him to feel the joy of rebirth!

He figured he might as well meditate for a while and get used to his body. When he opened his eyes again, a whole day had passed, and sunlight was leaking through the cracks between the door and the walls, and through the slits in the windows. Though he could now stand and walk around, he was still lightheaded, and his eyes were still blurry—hardly better than yesterday. Something was odd. “This Mo Xuanyu’s cultivation is so weak that his spiritual energy can be ignored, but there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to control his body. Why can’t I do anything?”

It wasn’t until his stomach let out a loud growl that he realized the problem had nothing to do with Mo Xuanyu’s cultivation, and everything to do with the fact that he was extremely hungry and his new body was not used to fasting. He needed to look for food soon, or else he was at risk of becoming the first demonic spirit to take over a new body only to starve to death.

Gathering his energy, Wei Wuxian lifted his foot and prepared to bust down the door. But suddenly he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and then of someone kicking the door and irritatedly shouting, “It’s time to eat!”

The door did not open despite the yelling. Lowering his head, Wei Wuxian glanced towards it and found that a smaller door had been built at the bottom of the wooden board. It was through this door his bowl of food passed.

“Faster!” the servant outside said. “Why are you taking so long? Pass the bowl back when you’re done!”

The little door was too small for even a dog to pass through, let alone a human, though it was adequate for the bowl. Wei Wuxian’s rations (it looked too unappetizing to be deemed “food”) consisted of two types of vegetables atop steamed rice. He mixed them around with the chopsticks stuck in the rice, feeling a little sorry for himself.

The Old Master of Yiling had only just returned to the world of the living, and all he had been met with was a kick to the chest and a raging temper tantrum. Now, he had nothing more than these cold, slimy leftovers for his first meal. Where were the foul winds and blood rains? The slaughter which spared not even the dogs and chickens? The extinctions? If he told someone he was back, who would believe him? At present, he was like a tiger being bullied by a dog on the plain, or a dragon by shrimp in shallow water. If you plucked the feathers of a phoenix, was it even worth as much as a hen?

Outside, the servant shouted again, but this time he also giggled as though he’d been body-swapped. “Ah-ding! Come over here!”

A girl’s voice, crisp and sassy, replied from a distance. “Ah-tong, delivering food to the one in there again?”

“Pah! Why else would I be in this wretched courtyard?” Ah-tong replied.

Ah-ding’s voice approached the door. “Your only job is to deliver him food. No one says anything if you just loaf around the rest of the time, and you’re still complaining about the courtyard? Look at me! I have so much work I can’t even step outside the house.”

“I don’t just deliver food!” he whined. “Do you even have the guts to go out these days? There’s so many walking corpses everyone’s bolted their doors shut.”

Wei Wuxian squatted and leaned on the door, shoveling rice into his mouth with mismatched chopsticks, listening closely.

It seemed like things were not quite tranquil at Mo Manor. Walking corpses were the bodies of dead people, reanimated. They were common and relatively weak, possessing dull, stagnant eyes and a lumbering, sluggish gait. Though they weren’t particularly powerful or dangerous, they were strong enough to scare ordinary people stiff. A single whiff of their putrefying flesh was enough to make most vomit the entire contents of their stomachs.

But as far as Wei Wuxian was concerned, walking corpses were the easiest to order around, and the most obedient puppets. Hearing so suddenly of them, he almost felt a burst of affection.

“If you want to go out,” Ah-tong said, the wink practically visible in his voice, “you could bring me and I could protect you.”

“You? Protect me?” Ah-ding replied. “Please, don’t boast. Could you really beat those things?”

“If I can’t fight them off, no one else can either,” Ah-tong huffed.

“How do you know?” She laughed. “You know, a bunch of cultivators came here today. I heard that they’re from an amazing and prestigious clan! Lady Mo is in the main hall speaking to them right now, and everyone in town has come to watch. Can’t you hear all the noise? I don’t have time to fool around with you, they might need me soon.”

Wei Wuxian listened carefully. The sound of hubbub could indeed be heard coming from the east. He pondered for a minute, rose, and launched a hard kick at the door. The bolt cracked and split.

The two servants were right in the middle of giggling and making eyes at each other when the door flung open. They screeched as though a bomb had gone off in their faces.

Wei Wuxian tossed his bowl and chopsticks on the ground and sauntered outside without acknowledging them. The sun stung his eyes so harshly that he couldn’t pry open his eyelids, and even his skin felt singed by the sun’s glare. To let his eyes adjust, he raised his hand above his eyebrows to block out the rays.

Ah-tong’s scream had been even shriller than Ah-ding’s, but once he saw the lunatic everyone bullied and composed himself, his courage ballooned. Attempting to redeem himself from his embarrassing behavior, he bounded towards Wei Wuxian, waving his hand and scolding the Old Yiling Master in the same tone he scolded dogs.

“Go! Go! Go back! Why are you out here?”

Most of the time, this was how the servants behaved toward Mo Xuanyu. Even beggars and insects were treated better than he was. Since he never fought back, they felt free to run rampant.

But Wei Wuxian lightly kicked Ah-Tong, sending him tumbling. “Are you really trying to bully me?” he said, laughing.

He continued on in the direction of the clamor. Surrounding the building were a number of spectators, gathered both in and outside the eastern hall of the eastern courtyard. Inside, one woman’s head stuck out above the rest of the crowd. As soon as Wei Wuxian stepped foot into the courtyard, he heard her voice.

“...One of the junior members of our household was also a cultivator, you see...”

This had to be Lady Mo, trying every means possible to create a connection between a cultivation clan and her family, as usual. In no mind to wait for her to finish, he squeezed through the sea of people and rushed into the hall, waving his hands wildly. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Here, here!”

In the middle of the hall sat a middle aged woman of good complexion, wearing very fine clothing—Lady Mo. Beneath her sat her husband, who had married into her family and thus had lower status than his wife. Across from the couple sat several youths clad in white, bearing swords on their backs.

All noise abruptly died as the disheveled, clown-faced maniac burst through the crowd. As though completely oblivious to the atmosphere, Wei Wuxian hollered, “Who was calling for me just now? I’m the junior cultivator!”

The powder caked on his face cracked as he smiled, cascading to the ground in streams of white and red. One of the white-clad youths made a choking noise and looked dangerously close to bursting into laughter. The youth beside him, seemingly the leader of group, shot him a disapproving glance. He quickly sobered.

Wei Wuxian’s gaze swept through the crowd to the source of the noise. Originally, he had thought that the “amazing and prestigious clan” was merely the exaggeration of a naive servant, but to his shock, he was quite mistaken. Who knew that that the junior cultivators who had shown up at the Mo family’s doors really were from a prominent clan?

They wore robes that were light and graceful like the breeze and beautiful like the morning frost, and their sleeves and sashes seemed to float and glide with their every movement. Their bearing was refined and upright, and their countenance pleasing to the eye. A single glance was enough to know they were from the Gusu Lan Clan. Some were even juniors of House Lan itself—they bore around their foreheads their house’s characteristic white ribbons, as wide as a finger and embroidered with cirrus clouds.

The Gusu Lan Clan’s motto was “righteousness,” the forehead ribbon signified self-rule, and cirrus clouds were its house emblem—the Clan’s guest cultivators or others from outside the family could not wear them. Just looking at members of the House Lan made Wei Wuxian’s teeth ache. In his past life, he had often called the Lan clan uniforms “mourning clothes.” He could never mistake them.

Lady Mo had not seen her nephew for a long time and took a very long time to recover from the shock of seeing him now. Once she recognized who the man wearing the thick, gaudy, hideous makeup was, rage flared in her heart. But in the present circumstances, she couldn’t lash out.

Suppressing the bile in her throat, she said to her husband, “Who let him out? Put him back!”

Her husband smiled obsequiously and rose. With a face cast in shadow, he stepped toward Wei Wuxian and prepared to haul him out, only for the clown-faced maniac to suddenly throw himself onto the floor. All four of his limbs clinging firmly to the ground, Wei Wuxian defied Husband Mo’s attempts to drag him outside. Even when several servants were called over to help, he still refused to budge. The family would have long started to beat him, if it weren’t for the presence of guests.

Lady Mo’s expression grew more sour and angry every moment, while Husband Mo’s face was covered in a sticky layer of sweat. “You stupid lunatic!” he roared. “If you don’t leave this instant, I will deal with you, and it will be ugly!”

While everyone knew that the Mo family had a young master who had been driven mad, Mo Xuanyu had been hidden away in his dark room for many years now, too frightened to stick his head out for fear of encountering another living soul. To see him in public, both looking and acting like some kind of ghost or demon—whispers immediately began to swirl around both the hall and the courtyard. This was the show everyone wanted to see.

“If you want me to go, that’s fine,” Wei Wuxian said before pointing at Mo Ziyuan. “But tell him to give back the things he stole first!”

Mo Ziyuan would never in a million years have suspected that this lunatic could have so much nerve. It was only yesterday he had taught his cousin a lesson, yet today that sad sack still had the guts to show his face here? “Stop talking nonsense!” he said, his complexion turning red, then white, then red again. “Since when have I stolen anything? Why would I need to steal from you?”

“That’s right!” Wei Wuxian said. “You didn’t steal from me, you robbed me!”

This time, Lady Mo realized what was occurring. Mo Xuanyu had come prepared. He wasn’t insane, his mind was clear as could be, and he was here for one purpose: to humiliate them. Unable to hold it in any longer, she burst into stunned fury. “You intentionally came here to cause trouble, didn’t you?!”

“He stole my things!” Wei Wuxian replied. “I’m here to ask for them back, that still counts as causing trouble?”

Before Lady Mo could answer, Mo Ziyuan, too anxious to control himself, lifted his foot and prepared to launch a kick at his cousin. But one of the sword-bearing, white-clad youths made a slight motion with his finger, sending him off balance and his foot flying towards empty space. While he tumbled to the ground, Wei Wuxian rolled over as though his cousin’s kick had connected. He tore open the front of his robe, revealing the foot-shaped bruise in the exact center of his chest, planted by Mo Ziyuan in yesterday’s assault.

The villagers salivated as they observed the drama, excited beyond measure. After all, Mo Xuanyu could hardly have kicked himself! At the end of the day, he was still the Mo family’s blood relative—how cruel were they? When Mo Xuanyu had first come home, he clearly hadn’t been as insane as he was now, so there was a four out of five chance it had been caused by the Mo’s’ mistreatment! The more they oppressed him, the crazier he got!

Whatever the truth was, as long as there was commotion, the villagers were happy. It wasn’t as though the Mo’s could abuse them. This display was far more interesting than the arrival of the cultivators!

With so many pairs of eyes fixed upon her, unable to hit Mo Xuanyu or throw him out, Lady Mo could only march around the hall, holding her resentment and anger within her throat as though holding her breath.

Lightly, she said, “What theft? What robbery? There’s no need to use such ugly words. We’re family. Ah-yuan was just borrowing, that’s all. He’s basically your little brother. If he takes a few things, is it such a big problem? As the older brother, should you really be so stingy? It’s embarrassing to have a childish temper tantrum over such small things—it’s not as though he won’t return them to you.”

The white-clad youths exchanged helpless glances. One of the youths, in the middle of drinking tea, nearly choked. The juniors of the Gusu Lan Clan had spent their lives in the mountains, exposed to only the snow, the moon, the flowers, and the wind. They had probably never seen this kind of farce, or heard this type of “wisdom.” Unfortunately, it seemed that they would grow a little more worldly today.

Laughing hysterically inside, Wei Wuxian stuck his hand out and said, “Then return my things to me.”

Of course, Mo Ziyuan wouldn’t have been able to return Mo Xuanyu’s things even if he had wanted to. He had long since thrown them away or taken them apart.

“Mom!” he cried. His face was now a shade somewhere between grey and green, and his expression clearly said, “You’re just letting this person humiliate me?”

Lady Mo glowered at her son, beseeching him not to make an even bigger scene. But no one anticipated what Wei Wuxian said next.

“To be completely honest, he not only shouldn’t have stolen my things, he really shouldn’t have stolen them in the middle of the night. Everyone knows that I like men. Even I know it looks suspicious for him to sneak into my room so late, but he doesn’t even know to be embarrassed.”

The shock left Lady Mo gasping for breath. “How dare you say those things, especially in front of the villagers!” she shrieked, “Don’t you feel ashamed? Ah-yuan is your cousin!”

When it came to wild, outrageous behavior, Wei Wuxian was the best of the best. In his previous life, there were certain limits on how far he could take his misbehavior without bringing shame upon his house teachings. But today, he was supposed to be a lunatic anyway—who cared about pride and reputation? The more outrageous he acted, the better. Whatever he wanted to do, he’d do it.

Straightening himself and speaking as though embodying the voice of justice, he declared, “He knows he’s my cousin but he still doesn’t try to avoid suspicion! Exactly who’s the one who should be ashamed?! If he doesn’t care about his reputation, fine, but don’t soil my innocence! I still want to find a good man some day!”

Mo Ziyuan howled. He picked up a chair and swung it violently. To avoid the explosion of temper, Wei Wuxian rolled away, scrambled up, and hid. The chair struck the floor, splintering and sending chunks of wood ricocheting skywards. The rows and rows of spectators inside and outside the eastern hall, who had been delighting in the disastrous spectacle of the Mo family’s utter humiliation, scattered like birds when the smashing started, afraid of falling victim to mis-aimed strikes and flying debris. Wei Wuxian scrambled towards the Lan juniors, who watched the scene in a daze.

He ducked behind them and noisily said, “You saw it, right? Right? Not only does he steal, he beats people! What a cruel, heartless person!

Mo Ziyuan chased after Wei Wuxian for another swing, but was blocked by the Lan group’s leader. “Young master...please, let’s resolve this using words.”

Observing that the youth was attempting to protect the lunatic and afraid of the consequences of angering his clan, Lady Mo plastered on a fake smile. “This is my younger sister’s son. He has some problems, ah, up there. Everyone in this household knows that he’s insane—if he says some odd things, you shouldn’t take him seriously. Cultivators, please don’t—”

Before she could finish, Wei Wuxian popped his head out from behind the youth’s back. “Who says not to take my words seriously? If anyone dares to steal my things from now on, just try me! Steal from me and I’ll chop your arm off!”

Though Mo Ziyuan was now held down by his father, as soon as he heard those words, his rage flared again and he was in danger of breaking free. Like a fish leaping out of the water, Wei Wuxian jumped out, then swam away through the exit.

The youth, now blocking the door, decided that changing the topic was perhaps the best course of action. He put on a solemn face. “So...so tonight we will borrow your western courtyard. As I said previously, please remember to close your doors and windows tightly, and not to come outside after dusk, especially near the courtyard. You must obey our instructions for everyone’s safety.”

Lady Mo was shaking with apoplexy, but as she couldn’t push the youth out of the way and chase after her nephew, she could only say, “Fine, fine. Sorry to trouble you with this matter.”

“Mom!” Mo Ziyuan said in disbelief. “That lunatic slandered and humiliated me in front of everyone! And you’re just letting him go?! You said once, you said that he was nothing more than a—“

Lady Mo inhaled sharply. “Shut up. If you have something to say you can hold it for later!”

Mo Ziyuan had never been forced to live through this kind of ordeal, or faced this kind of disgrace. He especially had never been so harshly reprimanded by his mother. Heart burning with hatred and rage, he roared, “That lunatic is dead tonight!”

After Wei Wuxian had finished being insane and exited the hall, he took a stroll around the surrounding village, leaving an innumerable quantity of stunned passers-by in his wake. Finding the situation immensely funny, he began to appreciate the delights of lunacy. He even started to approve of his hanged-ghost makeup and was somewhat reluctant to part with it.

“There’s no water, so I can’t wash it off anyway,” he thought to himself. He fixed his hair and glanced at his wrists, but his injuries showed no signs of improvement, or even change. In other words, embarrassing the Mo’s—a light, petty revenge—was nowhere near enough.

Did Mo Xuanyu really want him to slaughter his entire family?

To be honest, it wasn’t as though it was difficult.

Wei Wuxian pondered this question while walking back to the house. He pranced by the western courtyard and saw some Lan juniors standing atop the roofs and walls, discussing something with very serious looks on their faces. He pranced back to them, raised his head, and gazed at them, a strange mix of feelings in his heart.

Even though the Gusu Lan Clan was a major participant in the siege of, well, him, these juniors hadn’t been born yet when that had happened, or they had only been a few years old. It had nothing to do with them.

As he continued observing their preparations for the night, he suddenly realized that something seemed odd.

Why did the black flags fluttering in the wind atop the roofs and walls look so familiar?

The black flags were a type of flag called a “yin summoning flag.” If stuck on a living person, it attracted all the dark spirits, vengeful ghosts, fierce corpses, and evil demons within a certain radius and caused them to attack only the flag-bearer. Because the flag-bearer acted as living bait, effectively drawing a big target on themselves, the flag was also called a “target flag.” They could also be stuck on buildings, but the buildings were required to have living people in them, and everyone inside was susceptible to being attacked. Wherever the flag was stuck, yin energy would begin swirling around the area, as though it had been engulfed in a slow, black whirlwind. Thus, the flag was also known as a “black wind flag.”

The reason the youths would not allow others to come near as they were setting up their flag array must have been because they wanted to draw in and capture all the walking corpses in one fell swoop.

As for why the flags looked familiar...how couldn’t they? The inventor of the yin summoning flag was the Old Master of Yiling himself! It seemed that though all the cultivation houses had furiously called for his head, they had no qualms about using the things he’d invented...

One of the juniors standing atop nearby eaves spotted Wei Wuxian. “You should go back, this isn’t somewhere you should be,” he said.

Though the he was trying to get rid of Wei Wuxian, the youth had good intentions, and spoke in a tone entirely unlike the tone the servants had taken earlier. But Wei Wuxian, who had other plans, hopped up and plucked one of the flags, catching the youth off guard.

That junior jumped off the wall and darted after him, still slightly in shock. “Don’t mess around! These things shouldn’t be played with!”

Wei Wuxian, face smeared with powder, hair flying everywhere, hands and feet dancing with glee, looked, of course, completely insane. As he ran, he shouted, “No! No take-backsies! I want one! It’s mine!”

In two steps the junior caught up and pulled on Wei Wuxian’s arm. “Are you going to give it back? If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll hit you!”

Wei Wuxian hugged the flag so tightly no one could have pried it from his cold, dead hands. Alarmed by what was passing, the leader of the Lan juniors, originally busy with overseeing the construction of the flag formation, floated down from the eaves.

He approached them. “Jingyi, it’s alright, please just get it back from him nicely. There’s no need to quarrel.”

“It’s not like I actually hit him, Sizhui!,” Lan Jingyi said. “Just look at him. He ruined our flag formation!”

Making good use of the two Lans’ brief lapse of attention, Wei Wuxian had already finished inspecting the yin summoning flag in his hands. The marks were drawn correctly, and no words were missing from the spell—in short, there was nothing wrong with it, and it would function correctly when used. However, the one who had drawn it was still inexperienced, so the flag could only attract evil spirits and walking corpses from no more than two and a half kilometers away. But it was good enough.

With a smile hinting at his lips, Lan Sizhui said, “Young Master Mo, it’s almost dark. We’ll need to start catching walking corpses soon. It’ll be dangerous tonight, so it would be better if you returned to your room.”

Wei Wuxian gave this youth a once-over. His demeanor was gentle, refined, and graceful, and the corners of his mouth were lightly upturned, as though they constantly held a slight grin. The flag formation he had overseen was impeccable, and his upbringing was not so bad either. In short, he was a highly commendable young man, and in his heart, Wei Wuxian approved of him, though it amazed him that even in a frightening place filled with uptight fuddy-duddies like the Gusu Lan Clan, there was someone who could bring up such a splendid young man.

Lan Sizhui spoke again. “This flag—”

Without waiting for him to finish, Wei Wuxian threw the flag on the ground. “Hmph. It’s only a dumb flag. What’s so great about it? I can draw one way better!”

As soon as he finished, he picked up his legs and ran. Several youths resting on the rooftops saw the commotion, heard the shameless boasting, and began laughing so hard they were in danger of slipping off of the roofs and tumbling to the ground. Irritated, Lan Jingyi also began snickering. He picked up the flag and patted off the dirt. “That man really is a lunatic!”

“Let’s not speak that way,” Lan Sizhui said. “We should return quickly and help finish up.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t return to Mo Xuanyu’s small courtyard until the sun had set, choosing instead to loaf around the house a few times. When he did return, he saw that no one had bothered to clean up the mess that was Mo Xuanyu’s room. The latch on his door was still broken, and the floor was still covered with debris. Deciding he’d rather not look at the ugly sight, he cleared an empty patch on the ground, sat down, closed his eyes, and went back to meditating.

Who knew that long before sunrise, he would be pulled out of his reverie by a loud commotion outside his door.

Frantic footsteps mixed with the sound of sobbing and sharp cries of alarm, rapidly approaching him. Wei Wuxian heard a few phrases repeated several times. “Rush in and pull him out!” “Go tell the officials!” “Tell what officials? Cover his head and beat him to death!”

He opened his eyes just as several servants charged inside. The entire courtyard was lit brightly by flame.

“Drag this murderous lunatic to the main hall and let him pay with his life!” someone screamed.

Next chapter

Masterpost

#mdzs #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #wwx #lan sizhui

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fredweaslies · 4 years ago

Text

the gardens that grow between us | chapter one

• word count: 1328

• fic index

"ARE YOU SURE THAT'S HOW WE DO IT?" Dolores questioned.

A beret sat in her perfectly coiled hair, with a cart of luggage towered over her small stature. Dolores was standing in between Paloma and Draco Malfoy. On the ride to King's Cross, Paloma finally told Dolores about her father's proposition. From the looks of it, Lucius Malfoy forced his son to act as some sort of tour guide of Hogwarts to the girls to get on Paloma's father's good side. Draco looked angry and bitter, which wasn't a new look for him by any means.

"God you two are wusses, yes that's how you get through." Rang Draco annoyingly. He puffed out and white-knuckled his cart of luggage. His white hair kept getting ruffled by the incoming trains by the nearby tracks.

"How do we know you're not just fucking with us?" Paloma commented sternly, her arms were crossed over her chest. At that moment a passing train flew by the station and sent a shiver up Paloma's exposed ankles and sent her dress flowing slightly.

Draco sighed heavily and stood back a few inches.

"Fine, just watch me. Lean forward and rush it." He replied coldly. With the same breath, he clutched the handle of his cart and ran forward into the wall of the train station. Paloma and Dolores winced, bracing themselves for Draco to splatter across the wall. But instead, he disappeared in front of their very eyes.

"Okay, I guess he wasn't kidding." Dolores broke quietly. Paloma giggled to herself before doing as she was instructed by Draco. In a flash, Paloma was sent tumbling into the open air. As she looked up, she saw Draco's sly smile facing towards her. Just then, Dolores was sent speeding quickly the same way they were just moments ago.

"See? God and they call you two the best witches in North America." He sneered with a cringe.

"And they call you two the best witches in North America." Paloma mimicked as they climbed onto the train and searched for an empty compartment. Draco lead the way, and the sight of students cowering by the sheer glance of him was not lost on the girls.

Quiet meows started to spill out of the pet carrier Paloma was carrying in her right hand.

"Can you quiet that thing down?" Draco snarled, shooting a nasty look at the black cat peering nervously outside of his carrier. "How can you even hear Hex?" Paloma asked softly.

Dolores stuck her fingers through the cage to pet Hex, but he launched backward and hissed at Dolores' brown barn owl, which sat quietly in its cage.

"Hey! Tell your fat cat to leave Bishop alone." Dolores scowled. "Hex is not fat, he's big-boned," Paloma said sourly. Draco rolled his eyes at the girls' petty bickering.

The three finally found an empty compartment, but as the girls sat across from each other, Draco stayed glued to the door of the compartment

"Aren't you gonna sit with us?" Dolores asked, shuffling into her bag for something. "Or are you too cool for us?" Paloma scoffed.

"I have more important things to do than sit with you two." He stated.

"Wow, so you're just going to leave your future wife here without a man while a psychopath is on the loose?" Dolores teased, leading the pair into a laughing fit.

"Shove it, Lola." Draco quipped. Somehow, he knew that Dolores hated being called Lola. This remark only had her throwing a pencil sharply towards his head, narrowly missing it as he rushed out the door and shut it loudly behind him.

"Like he has so many friends," Paloma said under her breath, looking out the window and watching students appear in front of the wall from rushing in just as they did.

A small crinkle broke the silence in the small space, the source was a copy of The Daily Prophet that Dolores excitedly bought the day before during their trip to Diagon Alley.

"Can you believe there's just some crazed dude on the loose just as we're about to start the term?" Dolores asked with a shocked expression, pacing through the pages of the paper.

"Hopefully he gets Draco before we can put up with him any longer." Paloma joked, sending Dolores' foot to kick her under the table. "You are such a dick," Dolores remarked, stifling a laugh.

Before they knew it, the platform outside the window cleared out and only left somber parents waving at their kids inside the train. The train's engine erupted, and the environment outside the window quickly raced by and disappeared.

"Do you know who else got accepted into Hogwarts?" Paloma asked.

With Dolores' head still buried in the paper, she replied "Supposedly Janice Beckhart, Lydia Ngyuen, and Gemma Sailing."

"Solid group I see," Paloma confirmed. As much as she wanted to share her excitement with her best friend, the pair stayed quiet and enjoyed the sights from outside. Hex meowed lazily and Bishop hooted at any bump the train hit on the tracks. But, the quiet murmur of the train was interrupted with a loud crash and commotion from near their compartment.

"What the-" Dolores started, not being able to finish her thought as she listened closely for anything else. Paloma shot up from the seat and peered her head out of the compartment, quickly seeing that other students were doing the same. She could hear owls down the train hooting away at the disruption. The hallway seemed clear, but an open compartment just a few doors down had the limbs of several people poking out. Paloma shut the door and shrugged at Dolores before taking her seat again.

Just a few beats later, Draco came rushing into the compartment. He couldn't even make out an explanation without breaking out into laugher.

"What happened?" Paloma asked, her question was met with the loud shut of the door and the creak of the leather seats as he sat down next to her.

"Harry Potter just fainted over a dementor." He managed to make out. His light complexion was flushed with red as he continued to laugh.

"If I saw one of those things I'd shit myself too, are you kidding?" Paloma's face twisted in disgust as she turned to Draco and elbowed him in his side.

"Wait, Harry Potter is - here?" was Dolores' only reaction, this was enough to make her put the paper down and set it on the table between them.

Draco sobered up and glared across the table over to her.

"That prick? Yes, he's here." He remarked angrily, sinking into the seat.

"I'm taking that you don't like the kid?" Paloma said.

"Thinks he's hot shit around school." He muttered. The pink in his face from laughing was starting to fade.

"Whatever you say," Dolores whispered.

"Put on our robes now, we're getting close," Draco demanded to the girls. All three of them grabbed for their robes and piled out of the compartment, and came back donning the black uniforms.

"These are pretty sick." Commented Paloma, who was glad she no longer had to put up with the tweed skirts and itchy sweaters from the institute. As they stood patting over the robes, the train started to slow. Draco sighed and led the girls out once more, meeting the congestion of students who had the same thought. Paloma clutched Hex's cage tightly and Dolores raised Bishop's cage in the air, Paloma looked at her confused. "What? She likes to be aware of her surroundings." Dolores simply put.

The girls studied the faces of their soon to be classmates carefully. Even from the looks of the train, they could tell that there more kids lining up to leave as there were girls at their school.

As they stood there waiting for everyone to get off, Paloma grabbed for Dolores' hand and squeezed it. The two girls' faces met, sharing a look of excitement for the night ahead.

◀︎ prologue ☆ chapter two ▶︎

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #oliver wood x oc #draco malfoy x oc #fred weasley x oc #ron weasley x oc #draco malfoy fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #*mine

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meleuki · 5 years ago

Text

Sitting & Waiting

Duff Mckagan x Reader

Warnings: DRUNK DUFF, ANGST(I GUESS???)

Word Count: 1,900+

Request/Summary: “hi can you do an imagine with duff where the reader and he are close friends and she always takes care of him when he's drunk or high but he doesn't really show his appreciation for her so she gets mad and accidentally admits she has feelings for him”

It’d been so long. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d thanked me, or said he cared. I was always there, in the background, taking care of Duff’s drunk ass. It used to just be him and I, me and him, but now I was standing just behind the line of Duff's circle of care and he wouldn't let me step back in again. Vodka, Jack, beer - any form of alcohol he could get his hands on, he would drink, that's all he wanted, and that's all he'd do, that's all he cared for anymore, his fucking alcohol.

I'd started to get calls from the other members of the band, calling just to let me know that tonight Duff would be coming home absolutely wrecked. Axl would bring him home most nights, either looking just as disappointed as me at the state that Duff was in, or drunk alongside him. I'd agreed to live with Duff a few months ago after I'd been kicked out of my old, small apartment for not being able to keep up with the payments. Duff had taken me in, and even then I'd been concerned with the amount of alcohol he'd drink during the days and nights, but it had only gotten worse. I was worried he'd drink himself into the ground one day. I was so scared that one night I'd receive a call that he'd simply drank too much; alcohol poisoning they'd say, or maybe they'd tell me he stumbled into oncoming traffic. The list went on for as long as I could think, every day I'd come up with a new scenario until the band called me. The haunting thought of one of them calling to inform me of Duff's demise always sat in the back of my mind, nagging, pinching at me to pay attention to the worst possible situation.

The sound of the door clicking open made me shoot up from my position on the couch, all my previous thoughts leaving my head, being replaced with the wonder of who had just walked into my home. I peeked my head out into the hallway, my eyes were greeted by the sight of Duff hanging off Axl’s arm, mixed up slurs pouring from his lips. Axl looked up at me, his eyes making contact with mine as I stepped into the hallway to greet them. Axl looked surprisingly completely sober, his face contorted into one of exhaustion as he struggled to keep his tall, blonde friend standing upright. Axl eventually gave up and lent him against the wall next to the door, holding him as Duff’s back slid down the wall until he was sitting against the hardwood floor. Axl looked back to me, his eyes showing how sorry he was that I had to put up with such a thing.

“Why didn’t you call?” I questioned, the words coming out as a faint whisper as I looked down at my sock covered feet, trying my best not to cry at the sight of Duff so messed up.

“We weren’t out drinking tonight,” Axl sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over my pyjamas, “We were working on the new album, and he just wouldn’t stop,”

I flinched at the new information I’d just received. It was getting worse, so bad that he couldn’t resist the urge to bring his own source of poison into the recording studio. I lifted my head up to stare at Duff, who was slumped over his own body, head in hands as he groaned from what would probably be a headache. I pushed some of my hair back from my face, looking over to Axl as he stood in the middle of my hallway, his green eyes soft with concern.

“Can you help me get him into bed?” I pondered aloud, pointing at Duff as Axl turned to look at the extremely drunk man.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna leave you with him, especially like this,” Axl agreed, hooking his arms underneath Duff’s and starting to pull him in the direction of the staircase. Groans and whines left Duff’s lips as he struggled to lift his feet over each step, his hand slipping and sliding all over the wooden railing. I looked on, not daring to believe that he had done this to himself, let himself get to this point. Axl sighed with frustration as he almost pushed Duff up the stairs, tripping over his own feet because of how much support he was giving.

Axl turned his head to me,” Maybe grab some water and pain meds, you don’t need to watch this,”

My heart broke as those words left Axl’s mouth, yet I simply nodded and made my way into the kitchen, swallowing my tears. My hands shook as I opened the medicine draw, just below the countertop. I quickly grabbed the first box of pain meds I saw, snatching an already filled bottle of water off the bench as I passed by it. Axl and Duff had already made it up to the stairs by the time I was back in the hallway. The sounds of Axl talking to Duff sternly travelled down through the corridor, echoing in my ears. I let out a shaky breath as I began to make my way up the stairs, Duff’s whining getting louder with each step that I climbed.

I eventually made it to the bedroom, being greeted by the sight of Axl with his hands on his hips, standing next to the bed that Duff’s bed. I looked past Axl’s lean torso, pressing my lips together tightly as I saw Duff on top of the bed, sprawled across the sheets messily, head resting on his arms. His bareback was now on display, and I assumed he’d probably started stripping as soon as he’d gotten past the door to his bedroom.

“Duff?” I spoke quietly, doing my best not to upset the drunk blonde.

Axl turned his head to me, Duff simply groaning in response to his name being called. I held my hands out as I stepped further into the room, standing next to Axl and gazing up at him with painkillers and water in hand. Axl gave me a small smile and took both of them from me, tapping Duff’s calf to get his attention. Again, all we got in response was a small groan from the tall man. I sighed in disappointment.

“Duff, I gotta give you some painkillers man, you were just complaining about a fucking headache, c’ mon,�� Axl tapped the blonde’s leg again, eliciting a plethora of incoherent slurs from his mouth.

“What did you say?” Axl pestered, slipping one hand under Duff’s right thigh, doing his best to flip him over softly.

Duff rolled onto his back, sitting up slowly. His eyes met Axl’s, the brown orbs that were usually bright with colour were tainted red, blotchy with the effect of the alcohol he consumed.

“I don’t want it from you,” Duff whined, running a tired hand over his eyes before turning his gaze to me, “can you please give it to me, (Y/N)?”

I froze, a sad smile drifting across my face as Axl groaned and handed me the painkillers. I moved towards Duff, letting out a surprised gasp when he grabbed at my hips, pulling me towards him quickly. I stood between Duff’s legs, his forehead resting against my pyjama shirt; just below my breasts. I ran a pointer finger over Duff’s head, catching some of his messy blonde locks on my finger and tucking them behind his ear.

“Come on now, I gotta give you these,” I whispered, lifting Duff’s face up from my body by his chin.

Duff opened his mouth, allowing me to pop the two white, oval-shaped pills on top of his tongue. I handed him the water bottle, carefully making sure his fingers were wrapped around the plastic before he chucked his head back, swallowing the pills with ease.

“Ok, I’m gonna go. Call me if you need help with anything, (Y/N),” Axl’s voice entered my ears, and I nodded, humming in response. My eyes didn’t leave Duff’s as he dropped his chin against my stomach, looking up at me with a sense of childlike innocence. It almost didn’t make sense, this man looked the most like a child when he had done something that no child would ever do. I thought about Duff eventually having a family, and my heart almost broke at the image that flicked through my brain. A broken man, with nowhere to go. A drunk, with no family.

I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Duff lifting up my shirt slowly, his cool fingers sliding across my skin. I squeaked in surprise as he began to kiss along my stomach, dragging his tongue across my skin roughly. My hands moved to his hair and I basked in the feeling of his lips on my skin, for I knew that this would probably be the only time I’d ever feel them against me. I used the grip I had in his hair to pull his face away from my body, pushing him back onto the bed. The childlike look that had been his eyes a few moments ago had completely disappeared, replaced by one of raw hunger and lust.

“Duff, no,” I did my best to sound stern, stepping away from the bed to make my way towards the bedroom door.

“Okay, whatever,” Duff huffed, placing his hands on top of his pale stomach. My heart ached at the boring sound of his words.

“You’re not going to say thank you?” I sighed, turning towards Duff as he sat upon his elbows to look at me, “Nothing?”

Duff furrowed his eyebrows, “Thank you for what?”

“Fuck you, Duff,” I groaned, turning around to walk out of the room again, tired of his drunken antics. I paused at the doorway, contemplating my actions before deciding against my better judgement and doing it anyway.

“All I do is take care of your drunk ass when you come home. I clean, and I cook, and I worry about you and whether you’re going to come home to me or not. I think I deserve a thank you for taking care of your ass every time you can barely walk,” I didn’t yell or raise my voice, I just told him what I thought.

“Whether I’m going to come to you or not? You’re not my wife?” Duff sat up straight, his body falling forward to rest on his knees.

“Maybe I’d like to be,” I spoke quietly now, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on my words.

“You what?”

My face flushed red as I realised he’d heard me, and I shot my body up straight, “Nothing!”

I rushed to get past the doorway, gripping the door handle in my hand and dragging it towards me in an effort to close it, pausing before it shut fully, “Goodnight Duff.”

“Wait!” Duff’s voice echoed in my ears as I shut the door, hearing the handle click into place as I let it go again. I hope he didn’t remember that in the morning.

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cinema-tv-etc · 4 years ago

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Review: ‘The Comey Rule’ and What a Fool Believes

Showtime’s political drama is a scattered but searing picture of failed self-righteousness. By James Poniewozik Sept. 24, 2020

The thing that James Comey will probably like best about “The Comey Rule,” if one believes its characterization of him, is that his name is in the title.

But he is not exactly the hero. He is not even, really, the star.

Comey (Jeff Daniels), the former F.B.I. director, gets more screen time than anyone else in Showtime’s two-night, three-and-a-half-hour special. But the real lead is Donald Trump (Brendan Gleeson), in the same sense that, regardless of its minutes on camera, the true lead of “Jaws” is the shark.

Given how much it rehashes recent events, albeit with a fine cast, I’m not sure what interest “The Comey Rule” will have beyond people whose copies of the Mueller Report are already well thumbed. (There’s more to be learned from “Agents of Chaos,” the chilling Alex Gibney documentary, which premiered on HBO this week, about Russia’s 2016 election influence campaign and its American enablers.)

But if you stick to the end, there is at least a lesson and a warning, if not the one that Comey — either the screen version here or the real-life one who’s become a media figure — intended.

In his book “A Higher Loyalty,” he appears to see his decisions, which very possibly swung the 2016 election and failed to keep the president from interfering in investigations, as noble if tragic acts of principle. As translated by the director and screenwriter Billy Ray, this is instead a slo-mo horror story, in which the worst lack all inhibition while the best are full of fatuous integrity.

The first half, which starts Sunday, is basically a prelude. It walks us through the role of the F.B.I. in 2015 and 2016 when it investigated Hillary Clinton’s use of a private email server — with Comey making unusual public statements that damaged her campaign — while also looking, much more quietly, into increasingly disturbing signs that Russian intelligence was out to help Trump.

The first two hours blitz through the timeline and establish key players. So many familiar faces captioned with headline names pop up — Jonathan Banks as James Clapper! Holly Hunter as Sally Yates! — that it plays like a long, stone-cold-sober episode of “Drunk History.”

Daniels is inspired casting. Physically, he resembles the real Comey somewhat in stature (the ex-director still has a few inches on him). But having played figures of high-minded duty in “The Newsroom” and “The Looming Tower,” he captures his character’s starched righteousness wholly.

This time, however, there’s an ironic spin on the character. Comey’s actual rectitude is complicated by his fixation on the appearance of rectitude, his homey decency by smugness.

His precedent-breaking decisions to speak out on Clinton’s email practices were driven by worry over how he and the bureau would look later if — in his view, when — she became president. (He writes in “A Higher Loyalty” that he assumed she’d win.)

His guess proves wrong, but the day after the election he assures his devastated wife, Patrice (Jennifer Ehle), “We’re going to be OK.” True enough for him. He lost his job but wrote a best seller.

With that self-justifying memoir as a source, Ray makes the sharp choice to make Rod Rosenstein (Scoot McNairy), the deputy attorney general who wrote the memo recommending Comey’s 2017 firing, the quasi-narrator. Rosenstein bitterly introduces Comey as a self-righteous “showboat” (though, we discover, Rosenstein has his own blind spots and failings).

This is not, however, a production out to win over MAGA viewers. (At one point, it dramatizes one of the more eye-popping accusations of the Steele dossier.) The first night, we see Donald Trump only as shot from behind, a leering hulk parting the curtain at a Miss Universe pageant and pawing at a contestant’s bikini strap. He’s like the barely glimpsed monster in the first act of a creature feature, a rough beast slouching toward Pennsylvania Avenue.

It’s on Night 2, when President-Elect Trump emerges as a character, that the show really begins. In part, it’s simply that his crew of artless amateurs, relatives and B-list pols make for better TV. Not every portrayal works — Joe Lo Truglio as Jeff Sessions? — but it gives the proceedings a “Burn After Reading” flair.

But mostly, Gleeson kicks the program to life. Strictly as an impression, his performance is mixed. Gleeson, who is Irish, slips occasionally on the accent. But his rendering of Trump’s wandering diction is the best I’ve seen outside a lip-sync. Half his performance is in his bearing, chin jutted forward like the prow of a swollen yacht.

More important, Gleeson has a thorough idea of his character. His Trump is not the orange-haired clown prince of “S.N.L.” and late-night talk shows. He’s a crass, heavy-breathing mobster (Comey’s comparison, and Gleeson makes the likeness vivid) driven by spite and vanity. A heavy-handed musical score portends menace whenever he turns up.

He, too, is concerned with appearances, but in a more literal way than Comey. His version of “good morning” is “I saw you on TV”; he and his staffers keep referencing his “eye for interior design.” His brassy presence in the halls of power is as much an aesthetic statement as a political one, which Ray underlines by showing a White House staffer serving him a Filet-O-Fish sandwich on a gleaming silver platter.

All the while, it gradually settles on Comey that his new boss may not be an entirely scrupulous man. Their White House dinner — the “honest loyalty” scene, for Comey buffs — takes only a few minutes, but you could imagine it as an entire movie, “Frost/Nixon” style.

It’s like an uncomfortable date with a persistent suitor. Trump, cleaning out his ice-cream dish, pushes and prods on the Russia investigation, pressing his advances. A pained Comey guards and parries, finding ways to say things that resemble what the president wants to hear.

Comey survives that battle but loses the war. “The Comey Rule” is not out to damn him. It strains itself to sympathize with his falling into one impossible position after another, and it suggests that public life might be better if everyone in it were like James Comey.

But it also shows how catastrophically inadequate he was to a world in which not everyone is like James Comey. He becomes a stand-in for an entire class of Trump-era elites who believe that respect for norms will save them. (The president “can’t fire me,” Comey tells an associate. “It’d look horrible.”)

As for Donald Trump, he’s not precisely the villain, in the show’s view. As “The Comey Rule” depicts him, he’s a creature, an appetite. He is what he is. He doesn’t know how to be otherwise.

Comey, on the other hand, is, if not a villain, then a tragic, hubristic dupe, precisely because he believes he knows better, and because he should.

“The Comey Rule” is not good drama; it’s clunky, self-serious and melodramatic. But it makes an unsparing point amid our own election season.

It says that anyone, like its subject, who complacently assumed in 2015 and 2016 that everyone would be fine, who thought that propriety and rules could constrain forces that care about neither, who worried more about appearances than consequences, was a fool.

Then it leaves you to sit with the question: What does that make anyone who still believes that today?

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/24/arts/television/review-comey-rule.html?action=click&module=RelatedLinks&pgtype=Article

THE COMEY RULE Trailer (2020)

Brendan Gleeson as Donald Trump

Jeff Daniels and Brendan Gleeson star as former FBI Director James Comey and President Donald J. Trump in this two-part event series that tells the story of two powerful men, whose strikingly different ethics and loyalties put them on a collision course. Watch the premiere on September 27 at 9/8c on SHOWTIME. #TheComeyRule #DonaldTrump

youtube

Brendan Gleeson portrays Trump as a crass mobster.

#The Comey Rule #Brendan Gleeson #Trump

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 79

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

With the addition of several armed guards to patrol and secure the outside perimeter and Rata offering to take ‘first watch’ outside the bedroom door. He’s able to step out for some fresh air. He needs to get his head back in the game’ stop thinking and reacting emotionally and start looking at things -and coming up with solutions- from the viewpoint of a mercenary. It’s difficult; separating the two when it’s your own family are the ones being targeted. Damn near impossible, in fact. Both the anger and fear are profound; the mere thought of someone even planning on hurting his wife and children stokes the fire of rage and the need for revenge. It’s so easy to LET your emotions run things when the people you love...who you’ve spent years busting your ass to protect...will be the ones to suffer immensely if they fall into the wrong hands. He’s hardened and experienced, but he’s not dead inside. That had been proven when he HAD managed to fall in love with someone. What he’d thought had long shrivelled up and perished inside of him had just been lying dormant; waiting for that one moment...that one person...who was strong enough to break down the walls and tear through the broken, tattered mess he’d made of himself. And maybe he HAD known it right from the start; how livid he’d been when she’d intentionally ignored him and put herself in danger as sign that things were changing. That HE was changing. He’d certainly felt it the first time he’d kissed her; the way her body eagerly and excitedly responded to his, the desperation in which she’d kissed him back and never once hesitated when it quickly turned into something much more intense.

It had been fear that held the feelings...held HIM...back. Scared of hurting her; worried that once she saw him...the real him...she’d be frightened off by all his issues and demons and she’d leave him a bigger mess than before. Mostly, he’d thought she deserved better than him; a soldier for hire with addiction addiction issues, a lifetime of bad decisions, and a propensity to destroy everything he touched. But she’d hung in there. Willingly putting her own life on the line to save his and sticking by his side; both after Dhaka and through all the bullshit and problems he brought her way through years. Remaining loyal and faithful no matter how hard times got, and never looking at him like he was garbage or a total failure. How do you NOT get emotional when the one person who loves you more than life itself...who’d helped you create five incredible little human beings...is the one with a target on their back? When you know all the horrible, vile things that will be done to her if the wrong people get a hold of her? How do you stop thinking and reacting with your heart when that someone IS your whole heart?

His brain hurts. It’s weary. Muddle. Frustrated. Overrun by multiple and equally powerful emotions. Anger. Guilt. Regret. His heart broken over the realization that he’d once again gone back on a promise and deeply wounded her. It seems to be commonplace. Inadvertently hurting her and his own stubbornness and hang ups making the situation even worse and then having to grovel his way to forgiveness. But this time it’s different. He’s crossed the line before; gone back on his word and disappointed her. But he’s never completely trampled it. At least not until now. She’s confronted him about the same issues before; given him warnings and ultimatums that had seemed serious at the time. But none of those had ever seemed this dire. This FINAL. It wasn’t just in the words and the thinly veiled threats, but in the tone of her voice; the frustration and anger, the disappointment and vehemence. It was in those wild, unhinged eyes and in every single gesture of her hands and the way her entire body trembled. She’s finally reached her breaking point; if he doesn’t get clean...if he doesn’t commit himself to it...she WILL leave. It isn’t just a threat. She’s strong and tenacious and while she doesn’t want to raise the kids alone, she’ll bite the bullet and do it. Everything she said had been true; all her points and arguments valid even if they had damaged his entire soul. He deserved it. Every single word. And as much as it hurts, he knows the pain he’s caused is a hell of a lot worse.

He glances over his shoulder as the screen door slides open; giving Koen a simple nod in greeting before turning his attention back to the dark of night and the glass of whisky clutched in his hand. He’d needed something to take the edge off; both the pain and the need for the long discarded pill just shy of unbearable. But he’s been sipping at for nearly an hour and it hasn’t made a dent; each swallow tasting more putrid than the last. It’s the disgust he feels; sickened by how quick he’d fallen back into old habits and how easily those habits had been able to control him.

“Things are looking okay in there,” Koen says, taking a swig of his beer before taking a seat beside him on the back patio’s top step. “All if quiet. Just the way we want it.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“How’s things out here?”’ He shrugs. “As good as they get when you’re surrounded by armed guards, I guess.”

“Well that’s all fine and dandy, but what I was really talking about was you. How are YOU doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Not sure I’m doing to be honest.”

“It’s a hell of a thing; the bear just showing up like that.”

Tyler scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“I don’t get why the hell anyone would do something like that. Get kids involved. A baby, at that. Takes someone pretty sick and twisted to justify dragging little ones into adult problems. They got an issue with you, that’s who they should be taken it up with. Leave the kiddos out of it.”

“It’s not really about the kids. It’s about using them to get to me. Because they know it’s what will break me; anything happening to my wife and kids.”

“They’re making it THAT personal?”

“They know they can’t break me any other way. They know they won’t be able to beat me out on the street or hand to hand. They know they have to weaken me first. And that’s exactly what they’re trying to do.”

“You sure of that? Because they got awfully close to that baby.”

“They would have taken her if they wanted her. They had every chance to grab her. They weren’t planning on hurting her. It’s all about fucking with my head. All the threats, all the sick and twisted shit they said they’d do to Esme and the kids...especially the girls...it’s all about screwing me up. And I gotta give them credit I guess; it’s working.”

“Come on,” Koen nudges him with his elbow. “You’re tougher stuff than that. You don’t break easy; if at all. Just take it from the source.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried drilling that into my head? That it’s all just words and I shouldn’t let them get to me? I HAVE tried. I’ve tried ignoring it and I’ve tried considering where it’s coming but. But every time I look at my wife or I think about my kids, all that creeps into my head is what’s been said. What I've been told will happen to them. You can’t love someone that much and just ignore it and act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not saying don’t let it bother you. I’m saying don’t let it bother you as much as it is.”

“That’s my family they’re talking about. My wife. My kids. I can’t just turn off how I feel about them. And I find it a little hard to take advice from a guy with two failed marriages under his belt.”

“You keep going like you are and YOU’RE going to have two failed ones. Or is that what you’re trying to do? Fuck yourself to the point she’ll say ‘enough’s enough’ and just walk out.’

Tyler scowls. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“You sure about that? First the meds, now you’re drinking too? You’re just pissing it all away, aren’t you. You’ve got a good thing...a damn good thing...and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“Is that why you came out here? To ride my ass? To make me feel like complete and utter shit?”

“You’re an ungrateful fuck, you know that? You get a second chance; you find someone that loves you despite all your bullshit, despite your past and your fucking job. Someone that sticks by you no matter what. And this is how you her? You shit all over her? And those kids? How fucking dare you do that to her.”

“How fucking dare YOU come out here with this bullshit,” Tyler angrily counters. “You have no clue what you’re even talking about. You have no idea what went down here today. How close she was to walking out of her. How close I came to losing my entire family.”

“What are you talking about? What…?”

“I’m drinking because I’m not on the meds anymore. Because I flushed them. And because I’m in so much fucking pain, I could put a gun in my mouth. Because I need something...anything...to numb this shit.”

Koen frowns “Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk stupid shit. About putting a gun in your mouth. Don’t…”

“There’s where I am. I’m right fucking there. I’m tired. I’m tired of the pain and I’m tired of all this bullshit and I’m tired of being away from my kids. This has to stop; the pain, this crap with Mahajan. It’s all gotta stop. Because I can’t keep going like this; I can’t keep living like this. I just can’t. It’s breaking me. And she deserves better than that. So do my kids.”

“And you think ending it would make things better for them? It would make things worse. They need you. A clean and sober you.”

“And I’m gonna get clear. Which is why I flushed the meds. It was them or her. I chose her.”

“She found out?”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods and takes a swallow of whiskey. “She found out.”

“How?”

“I was pretty messed up when she got back. The point I didn’t even remember her calling me when you just got done.”

“Jesus,” Koen mutters. “How many of those pills did you take?”

“Too many. I don't know if I was still high from them or if I was borderline OD’ing or if I was going through withdrawal. But I was fucked up and it was easy for her to figure out what was going on. She’s seen me like that before. Way too many times. More than I want to admit. “

“What happened?”

“She lost it. Rightfully so. Said a lot of things that hurt like hell but I needed to hear. About how it was her breaking point and I needed to get my shit together once and for all.”

“And yet she’s STILL here.”

“All that...all the times I’ve hurt her and I’ve broken promises and I’ve been a complete fuck up...and she says she still loves me. She just can’t live with an addict; can’t have the kids around that. And she’s right; she DOES deserve better than that and so do they. So that’s why I flushed the pills. Because losing them would cause a hell of a lot more pain than what I’m going through right now.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to smarten the hell up. I’m going to go see the doctor; find out what’s going on with my body and get it fixed. I’ll go to rehab if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family together. To be the man that she needs. That she deserves. I’ll stop at nothing to make that happen.”

Koen nods slowly, then turns attention to the beer in his hands. Draining it in a handful of long sips before setting the empty bottle on the step below. “You really thought she was going to leave?”

“I did. And it scared the shit out of me. I’ve already spent months away from him. And that was my doing too. You think I would have learned my lesson the first time.”

“What did you do? Get on your knees and beg?”

“Believe me, I would have done it if it had gotten to that point. I’m not above begging. But she said she couldn’t leave; not in the middle of all this. Said she wouldn’t leave me alone to deal with it by myself. Said she couldn’t do that to me.”

“Gotta give her credit; even pissed off and raging, she still loves your ass.”

“Nothing’s stopping her from leaving when we get back though. And she’s got every right to leave me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But it would fucking kill me. Because she’d walk out and she’d take my kids and I don’t think there’s anything I’d be able to do to get them back.”

“Sounds like you got your work cut out for you,” Koen muses. “And if you’re willing to put the work in..”

“I'm willing to do whatever it takes...whatever I have to...to make sure I don’t lose her.”

“If you really think she’s fixin’ to leave, you have to do whatever it takes to change her mind. Make sure you prove to her that it’s a one off. That this isn’t the way you want to be. And I know it isn’t; I know this isn’t how you want to be.”

“I just want the pain gone. I NEED it gone. And I thought if I could just use the meds until I got home, I could see a doctor and find out what’s wrong and get it fixed. I thought I’d just be able to stop and never touch them again.”

“You know that’s horseshit, right? You’re an addict; whether you like to hear that or not. You are. And that’s the kind of choices and decisions you can’t be making. And honestly? I think it’s a good thing she caught on this soon. Imagine if it had gone on longer? How deep would you have been into it? I would have been a hell of a lot messier, that’s for sure. She’s a tough little shit, ain’t she.”

Tyler nods. “Tougher than she gives herself credit for. Probably the toughest person I know.”

Koen scowls. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

Tyler smirks, then polishes off the last of his drink.

“Your girl was impressive today, by the way. The way she kept her cool on the bridge, how she handled the guy in the market, how she took seeing that little prick that shot ya.”

“What’s the chances of that even happening? That she’d see him?”

“She’s got quite the hate on for him. Wouldn’t put it past her to kill him with her bare hands. But she did good today. Real good. You should be proud of her.”

“I’m proud of her every day, mate. For a whole lot of different reasons.”

Koen smiles, then playfully tousles Tyler’s hair. “So what now? We just wait? Hope they call?”

“That's about it. I was hoping it would have happened by now, but…” he shrugs. “You know, part of me...a huge part...just wants to say ‘fuck it, let someone else deal with it’; just get the hell out of here and get my kids and go home. Get someone else to do the dirty work.”

“But…”

“But that would look like I’m running scared. And I’m not. I’m not scared of those little bastards. I’ve handled bigger and better. Only thing I’m worried about is my family; getting them the hell out of this mess. That’s all that matters.”

“You know, there probably are people who could get this shit done.”

“Maybe. But I gave Anil my word; that I’d be the one to to do this. I can’t back out now. Especially after the Fredrick thing.”

Koen frowns “Fredrick? Who’s Fredrick?”

“The bear. Do you not know the story of the bear?”

“Do I need to?”

“I bought him for Millie when she was born. She was like half an hour old and I went downstairs to start calling people and letting them know about her, and there was this bear in the window of the gift shop. And Esme hadn’t been in Australia very long and she was all about koalas so I bought the damn thing. It became this joke; every time we took Millie on a road trip somewhere, we’d bring the bear with us. So wherever we went, we’d take a picture of him and then we got home, Esme would print it off. She ended up making a scrapbook with all the pictures; gave it to Millie on her third birthday.”

“Okay, I know I have a cold, dead heart, but that is some seriously adorable shit.”

“Millie took that damn bear everywhere. Slept with it every night. And she started talking, she named him Patrick.”

“I thought his name was Fredrick?”

“It is. He became Fredrick. After Addie was born, Millie gave him to her because she was happy to finally have a sister. She gave Addie the bear and suddenly his name was Fredrick. I don’t know, mate. I don’t know why the hell that kid does the things she does. So yeah, that’s the story of Patrick. Or Fredrick. Or whatever the hell his name is.”

“And someone just took it?”

“Right out of the crib. Esme said she put it right next to her; that they would have to reach over her to get it. Someone was right there; right fucking there. Right across the goddamn hall form us. And I didn’t hear a thing. They went in there and I didn’t even know it.”

“You were asleep,” Koen reasons. “How could you have known? If they were creeping around…”

“Where were my instincts? They’re the one thing I could always count on; my gut picking up on something that’s wrong or someone that’s shady. But there was nothing. I didn’t suspect a single one of those people. How fucking pathetic is that? I do the job I do...I protect complete strangers...and I couldn’t even protect my kid and I was right across the hall.”

“They probably worked hard so you wouldn’t suspect a thing.” Koen says. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. There’s no way you could have prevented it.”

“I was fifteen feet away. IF that,” Tyler shakes his head in disbelief. “And they got close to my kid. How do I NOT blame myself?”

*****

An hour later he joins her in the bedroom; setting a bowl of ice cream down on the bedside table and then leaning over to peck her lips. Chuckling when she grabs him by the front of the shirt and yanks him down or something longer; his hand coming to rest on the mattress to avoid losing his balance and landing on top of her.

“What’s that for?” Esme inquires, nodding at the bowl as she pushes herself up into a sit.

“Peace offering.”

“I wasn’t aware you needed one. I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”

“Guess it’s to guarantee we DON’T start up again.”

“No fighting, I promise. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”

“Eat your ice cream,” Tyler gently orders, then drops a kiss on the top of her head before retreating to a nearby chair; wincing as he slowly lowers himself into it.

She watches him, an eyebrow arched and the spoon pressed to her lips. “Back?”

“Everything.”

“You didn’t have to flush the pills. I didn’t want you to stop taking them entirely; I wanted you to take them responsibly. It was kind of hasty; getting rid of them like that. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I’ll be alright. It’s not that bad. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“If it wasn’t that bad, you wouldn’t have resorted to taking so many. Why don’t you call Anil’s doctor? Ask or something else; something that will actually work and you won’t have to go overboard.”

“At this point, I probably can’t even be trusted with over the counter shit. I’ll be okay. I’ll deal with it for the rest of the time we’re here, then when we get home, I’ll get the doctor to fix me up.”

“Who knows how long THAT will be. I don’t want you suffering. That’s not what I wanted at all. I just didn’t want it getting out of hand. Not like before. And it scared me; seeing you like that today. Because I remember what it was like the last time it got out of control. And that nearly destroyed us. And I don’t want it destroying us.”

“It won’t,” Tyler assures her. “That’s why I got rid of them. I had to. I didn’t trust myself with them.”

“But now I feel like shit. Because I know how bad things have gotten. You barely sleep and when you do you’re restless and never really at peace. Half the time you don’t eat properly. And I know about your hand; I see you struggling to use it sometimes. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve got enough going on.”

“I’m going to worry about you regardless. So you might as well just tell me about these things. Is there anything I can do? You want me to get an ice pack or a heating pad or I can massage it? Or maybe you can take a hot shower or a hot bath…”

“You need to stop. I’m fine.”

“Want some ice cream?”

“Regardless of what you think, it doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m trying here, okay? I feel like shit. You dumped all those pills. For me.”

“I dumped them for me. So I wouldn’t lose my entire life. I’ll deal with it. I’ll get shit done here, we’ll go home, and I’ll get it all looked at. Okay?”

“Okay,” Esme reluctantly agrees, then turns her attention to the bowl of ice cream in her hands.

The silence that follows is comfortable. Companionable. Still existing after seven years; content just to be in one another’s presence. It was something they’d discovered right off the bat; a quiet, comfy ease with one another as opposed to having to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. He takes the opportunity to rest her eyes; legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Actual sleep will be a rare commodity. The arrival of Fredrick and the unspoken messages accompanying him combined with the anticipation of a call from Asif’s people, have his senses on high alert. Expecting the arrival of a threat, but hoping it never comes. It’s good to be prepared; keeping your guard up at all times and always assuming trouble could be just around the corner of lurking in the shadows.

The faint clinking of the spoon against the side of the bowl captures his attention; followed by the dish being placed on the nightstands and the sound of her clothes brushing against the sheets as she stretches out in bed. And when he opens his eyes and glances over, she’s flat on her back with her t-shirt pulled up to just above her navel, and the waist of her pyjama bottoms resting across her pubic bone. Eyes fixated on the ceiling as she runs her hands slowly over the sides and the top of her ever growing bump.

“What are you doing?”

“Just feeling the bump,” Esme says. “It’s bigger when I lie down. Does it look big?”

“I think it looks cute.”

“Do you have a pregnant woman fetish I don’t know about?” she teases.

“Only if the pregnant woman is my wife.”

“It’s weird to be showing this soon. It’s bigger, right? Than all the other ones at this stage? Does it look bigger?”

“I guess. I don’t know. Seems about the same as when you were having the boys.”

“You just HAD to put that out into the universe.”

“You asked me if it was like the others. I said yes; it looks like when you were pregnant with the twins. Don’t ask if you don’t really want an answer.”

“It’s growing on me. Both figuratively AND literally.”

He gives a small laugh; minutes passing by as he watches her. Contentment sparkling in her eyes as he palms continue to move over her bump.

A grin is tugging at the corners of her mouth when she turns her head towards him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.”

“Why are you admiring me like that, then?”

“Because you’re beautiful. And I love you.”

It’s the first smile...genuine smile...that he’s seen on her face in days. Maybe even weeks. All of the stress and the worry and heartache briefly lifting; lips curving softly, eyes glittering in the soft glow given off by the bedside lamp. And when she rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, he doesn’t hesitate; leaning forward in the chair and taking her hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And in that moment, when she pulls away ever so slowly and her nails skim over his palm and along his fingers, he’s filled with a sense of hope. There’s love in her eyes. A tenderness and affection that nearly takes his breath away.

“I was thinking…” she says, as she scrunches her pillow up under her cheek and wraps both arms around it. “...we should probably add onto the house. We have a lot of space to work with and we’d still have tons of land left over.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking a couple more bedrooms; one for the baby and one for guests. An ACTUAL office considering we’re going to be running a business. Maybe another two or three car garage that we can use to store all the gear and other job related stuff. A bigger and better gym. You’ve been talking about that since we moved in.”

“Whatever you want, baby. Just make a list and we’ll get it done.”

“And Millie and the two T’s are asking for animals. They miss the goats and the chickens. So if we could build something to keep them in…”

“If that’s what they want, I’ll get it done.”

“You’ve very agreeable. Not even a single roll of the eyes or those wrinkles you get when you frown. Are you drunk? Sometimes you’re a very mellow drunk.”

“No. I’m not drunk. I just think it all sounds reasonable. And if that’s what you want to do, we’ll do it. Make a list and we’ll start on things when we get back.”

“I like that you’re being optimistic; about getting out of here and going home. Because you will; get out of here and go home.”

“We’ll know that for sure soon enough.”

“I already know for sure. I know you; I know you’ll stop at nothing to get out of there. You don’t give up. You don’t know the meaning of ‘give up’. And you what else I was thinking?”

“Your brain’s been busy.”

“I was thinking we really should go away. An actual trip. Alone. Just us. I think we deserve it. And need it.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere exotic. Somewhere tropical.”

“You don’t get enough sand and water at home?”

“As much as I love where we are, it’s different when you go away. I was thinking like Bali or Bora Bora or The Maldives. Stay in one of those suites that are built right on the water. That would be nice. AND romantic.”

“Romantic? Have we met?”

“You’re romantic in your own way. You just don’t do grand gestures or make a spectacle out of things. Which makes it even better. Other guys, you know it’s coming. With you, it’s always a surprise. It’s genuine. Just one of the many things I love about you.”

“You gonna make a list of those things, too?”

“If you want me to. If it would cheer up. I’ll do it if it will cheer you up.”

“Your smile is enough to do that. There hasn’t been a lot to smile about lately, has there.”

“It’s been...difficult.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“You look so tired. You sound tired.”

“I am,” Tyler admits. “Tired. In a lot of ways.”

“It’ll get better. When we get home and you see the doctor and they figure out what’s going on with you. Get it all fixed up. It will force you to slow down for a little while. And you need to. Slow down.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m old?”

“I’m insinuating that you’re human. And that you need to step back and let other people bust their asses. It doesn’t have to be you all the time. Just stay home and run things. Delegate. Don’t take everything on yourself. Because you’ll burn out and I don’t want that happening. I know you think I hate you right now. Because of our fight earlier and everything I said.”

“I don’t think you hate me. I think you hate that side of me. The one that’s so fucking weak that he gets sucked back into the same old shit.”

“You’re not weak, Tyler. There’s nothing remotely weak about you. And hate is a strong word. I don’t hate that side. It disappoints me.”

“Okay, you know what? That’s even worse.”

“But I love you. And I just want you better. That’s it. I just want you better. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not just the pain, but everything. I know you’re tired; I know you’re probably ready to just give up. But I need you to keep going. Our kids need you to keep going. Little bean needs that too. It won’t be much longer. It’ll be over soon.”

“I hope so, baby. I really do. Because I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s fucking breaking me down. And that’s what they want. They want to break my mind before they break my body. And it’s working.”

“They know what would hurt you the most,” she concludes. “What WILL break you. Anything to do with me or the kids. They know we’re your weaknesses.”

“Just proves it’s someone close to us. That knows us. Knows me.”

“I’m not ruling Nathan out. There’s something very sketchy about him.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“Do you think it could be Nik? Do you think it’s possible she’s working with him? Maybe they’re more involved than just fuck buddies or whatever she claims they are.”

“I want to say she wouldn’t do something like that, but nothing would surprise me anymore.”

“Just be careful. Err on the side of caution. Assume everyone we know could be in on it. That way no one will take you by surprise.”

He grins. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No. I’m just a paranoid wife. Who’s worried about you. Who loves you. And who really wants you alive and in one piece at the end of all this. Don’t trust anyone.”

“Present company excluded, obviously.”

“Obviously. I mean, you’re the only person I trust.”

“I think I’ve proven a few times that you shouldn’t.”

“Your issues don’t make me trust you any less. Because I know you’d do anything to keep me safe. I never never doubted that. You’re the only one who has ever made me feel safe. I can’t see that ever changing.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know. And I wish I could do the same for you. Protect you.”

“You do. In your own way.”

“Maybe,” she sighs, and rolls over onto her back once more, a hand resting on either side of her bump.

“Could you do me a favour?”

She looks over at him.

“Can you pull your pants up? It’s distracting me.”

Esme grins. “Maybe you need a distraction.”

“Not THAT kind of distraction.”

“I’m offended,” she pouts. “It hurts my feelings that I can pull my pants down and you don’t jump on it. Or me,”

“Trust me, I want to. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m technically on the clock.”

“That’s suddenly a problem? Do I need to remind you about seven years ago? When we were both on the clock?”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m trying to protect you.”

“You were technically supposed to be protecting me then, too.”

“Not the way I am now.”

“You can’t take a few minutes out of your time and oblige me?”

Tyler frowns. “A few minutes? Now I’M offended.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you can spare half an hour. What’s going to happen? You’re RIGHT here. Koen and Rata are downstairs, there’s all kinds of armed guards wandering around. You don’t need to constantly watch over me.”

“Can you please pull your pants up?”

She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh, then obliges.

“And I DO have to watch over you. They were able to get to Addie and I was right across the hall.”

“So was I,” Esme points out. “I didn’t hear anything either.”

“But I should have. What a fucking time for my instincts to take a dump.”

“You were asleep. Your instincts were at rest. You’re really not blaming yourself, are you? Tell me you don’t think this is your fault. Tell me.”

“I should have heard something. Or at least picked up something before that.”

“Tyler, you have to be kidding me right now. It is in no way your fault. Not in the slightest.”

“Hard not to blame myself.”

“Well stop. You told me not to blame myself.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And neither did you. You were asleep. You didn’t think there’d be a reason to watch over her. So stop…” she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the top, pulling her t-shirt down as she stands and saunters over. “...just stop.”

He grins as she perches herself on his lap, arms circling his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to distract you.” She presses a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and onto his ear, tracing the outer edge with the top of her tongue. “Is it working?”

“Yeah…” His hands grip her hips, pulling her tight against him; raising his hips so she can feel the beginning of his erection straining against his jeans. “...it’s working.”

“Good…” she giggles, and pulls back to look at him. “...I really AM a distraction.”

“Yep. You are.”

“I think you should come to bed. At least for a little while.”

“You know it’ll be longer than five minutes, yeah?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his lips. “It better be.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan ficiton #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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teamhook · 5 years ago

Text

CSSNS 2019 Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star)

Hello all!

This is my contribution to this year’s @cssns

I know my other story is still going on and it will find it’s ending, but since I cannot say no to @kmomof4 here I am, once more.

I wanna thank the lovely ladies at the CSSNS Discord. I love chatting with you all.

I wanna thank the mods of CSSNS19, my lovely very patient Beta @searchingwardrobes and my artist for the event @hollyethecurious

Below the cut, you will find the current chapter and at the end art by me.

AO3

FFN

Killian woke up at dawn and quickly changed. He realized now how much he had missed the sea. Sure, there was the lake he'd mention to Emma last night, but it wasn't the same. The smell of sea salt called to him. He looked outside his window to make sure there was enough light for him to take a walk to the docks.

He rushed out of the inn. It was a fresh morning and the air was cool and crisp. He arrived quickly to the docks. The ship was easy to spot. The Jewel I floated proudly on the gentle waves. The last time he was on the ship he had his mum and Liam. They were a happy family, and now they were gone. The Jones family ship looked a little beat up. He was surprised, knowing how particular his father was. He touched the ship reverently. While lost in thought on the ship's deck, he missed a swish in the shadows.

There was a sudden change in the air. His heart sped up, and his senses were on full alert now. He turned just in time to come face to face with the thing that killed his mum and had been terrorizing young Leo.

It had a cloak and its face was pale and covered in scars, with white eyes. The thing tilted its head in recognition and glided towards him. Killian turned and grabbed a steel hook hanging from the ship's wheel. He sliced through the creature, and it shrieked as it disappeared. He thought that maybe those supernatural shows were onto something. Killian looked around to make sure he was alone once more. Still shaking, it took him a minute to calm down. He shoved the hook into his back pocket and finally left the ship. He walked to the inn as fast as he could. He gave Ruby a strained smile as he walked by the front desk.

~~~

Emma woke up to the sound of scuffling. She darted up, her eyes instantly turned to the spot Leo was supposed to be. "Em, I'm hungry." The boy told her. She studied him for a bit. He looked better, he was rested. She couldn't help but smile. Killian had been back for one day, and her little brother had managed to sleep through the night.

"Okay, kid. Let me get ready. Is Killilan in the restroom?" She got up and stretched.

"Nope, he wasn't here when I woke up." He looked at her with his big eyes.

"Okay," she looked around the room. She panicked for a nanosecond. His things were all still there. "Well, he probably went to the diner. Leo, go to the restroom, and brush your teeth. There's an extra toothbrush for you. Wash your face too. Killian probably just got hungry, and he didn't want to wake us up."

The boy rushed to the restroom. Emma picked up her clothes to get ready once Leo vacated the restroom.

The door flew open, and Emma met a rattled Killian. Her brow rose as he looked around the room. "Emma, where's Leo?"

"He is in the restroom. Why?"

"That bloody thing just attacked me at the docks."

"Wait, right now? In the morning?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, it was in the shadows, but I used this" he takes out the hook from his back pocket. "It went away. I think it caused it pain. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits."

“This helped?” She took the hook from his hand.

The restroom door flew open, and Leo burst out. As soon as he saw Killian, and ran to him. The boy hugged him tightly. Emma couldn’t hide her smile. Killian’s eyes met Emma’s, and for a moment happiness flowed over them.

The moment was interrupted by Leo's stomach growling, and the trio erupted in laughter.

Killian sobered up, "I'm guessing, Granny's for breakfast."

Emma cleared her throat, "Yeah, give me a second to change." She handed Killian the hook.

Leo's eyes lit up at the sight, "Whoa, is that a hook? Can I touch it?"

Killian looked at Emma for guidance, but she had gone inside the restroom already. He pondered if he should let the lad touch it. The boy just wanted to look at it, how bad could it be?

"Alright, lad. Just a quick touch."

The boy’s eyes went wide with excitement. "Cool!"

The boy's fingers barely tapped the hook.

"Leo, be careful. The tip is sharp, and I don't think your sister would appreciate it if you hurt yourself."

Leo rolled his eyes. A family trait he shared with Emma.

Emma finally emerged from the restroom, fresh-faced. She wore the same clothes from the day before, but still managed to look beautiful.

“Alright boys, I’m ready and starving.”

~~~

Leo sat next to Emma, and Killian sat across from them. The trio looked over the menu.

Granny approached the table with a big wolfish smile. Ruby had mentioned that Emma’s friend Killian was back. Unlike most of the town, the older woman never believed the boy had hurt his mother. What happened that night she didn’t know, but she did know the boy adored his mother. She could see it each and every time the Joneses entered the diner for some food.

“Good morning, so what can I get you?” Granny asked.

Emma answered, “Good morning, Granny, can we have three orders of pancakes?”

“Of course,” the older lady raised both eyebrows, “anything else? Maybe some eggs and bacon?”

Killian turned his gaze to the young Leo, “That sounds lovely, Lady Lucas.” He gave her a charming smile.

Granny smiled, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you boy?” Her gaze turned to Emma, “I can definitely see the appeal.” She finished writing on her pad and headed to the kitchen.

Emma’s cheeks turn red. Is it that obvious? She tried her best to avoid Killian’s gaze.

They were enjoying their delicious food and failed to notice the pair arriving at the table.

Ahem.

Emma, Killian, and Leo turn to the source of the sound. Her dad and mom beam at them. “Good morning, my sweethearts,” Mary Margaret gushed.

David added, “That looks delicious. May we join you?”

Leo smiled and nodded. Emma glanced at Killian. “Yeah--” She waited for a sign from him that she needed to decline, but all she saw was a genuine smile on his face.

David guided his wife to sit in the empty spot Killian had left vacant. Killian slid over in the booth to make room for Mary Margaret. David graciously got an empty chair from another table and sat down.

Granny approached them as quickly as her age allowed. “I’m guessing you two don’t need to see the menu. The usual?”

Mary Margaret and David nodded their agreement.

Emma, Leo, and Killian continued eating. The silence was overwhelming. Young Leo was the one who broke it once he was done chewing his food. “Mom, Dad I finally slept through the night. Look-” He pointed to his well-rested eyes, and gave a smug smirk. “Thanks to Killian, he kept the monster away.”

Killian winced, Emma muttered, “shit.” Leo, oblivious, dove back into his food.

Mary Margaret and David shared a look. “Son, what monster?” David looked at Leo for clarification.

Emma responded for him, “Dad, he means” she lowered her voice so her parents were the only ones to hear her “the night terrors. He doesn’t need the treatment the doctor is recommending.”

“Just because he had one good night doesn’t mean he is better,” David stated.

Mary Margaret was awfully quiet just looking at her son. He looked happy, relaxed. and rested. “We could wait, look at him, he does look better.”

Killian was extremely quiet still eating.

Mary Margaret turned to Killian, “Killian, I’m sorry we’ve been rude. It is so nice to see you.”

David tilted his head to get a better look at him. “Killian, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry-”

Killian’s bright blue eyes turned to them. “It is nice to see you both.” He added politely.

Granny arrived with Mary Margaret and David’s food.

David looked at his food. All those years ago, he had asked Emma to keep away from Killian. Yet they’ve found each other once more. Once the awkwardness had disappeared, everyone enjoyed their breakfast.

Mary Margaret and David asked Emma to keep an eye on Leo since they had to take care of some errands before the Gala.

Emma and Killian were just talking about simple things when Belle burst through the door. The little belle announcing her arrival was still chiming when she reached their table.

“I think I found something,” Belle told them, out of breath.

Emma smiled, “Okay Belle, calm down. Catch your breath, and you can tell us what it is you found.”

Belle grinned and dropped some sort of archive/record book. It looked old. “Look here. There were disappearances for almost 300 years but not as consistent as in the last 100 years. The most notable were of the founding families, and it was always the second born child to disappear.”

Emma bit her lower lip and glanced at Killian. Despite everything, Emma was just happy Leo was in the kitchen making cookies with Ruby like a normal kid.

Killian asked, "When did the attacks begin?"

Emma added, "Yeah, something must have triggered them."

Belle looked at the pair, “The attacks started about 300 years, but they were rare. There’s no exact date. I agree something triggered them to become more consistent in the last 100 years give or take. I think it coincides with the Gala. We started the Gala to celebrate the founding families about 100 years ago, right? That is when the attacks intensified. You’re both descendants. Killian is the second Jones, so he was attacked. Emma you are the eldest, Leo is the second and was attacked.”

Emma shook her head, “I thought they got attacked because they both peeked. You are not supposed to peek, if you do the fairy will take you away.”

Killian was silent just listening to them.

“I know but as descendants from the founding families it looks like they were selected that way. I don’t think it made a difference that they peeked. What matters is their bloodline. I don’t know what happened, but this thing has it out for the families.”

Emma pondered Belle’s words. “I think mom has somethings passed over from my great great great grandmother, diaries I think. Mom saved them because they are part of our heritage. Maybe there’s something there.

Belle smiled brightly, “As soon as you have something, you can take it to the library.”

Emma nodded, “Okay.”

Killian stared at his hands. “So it truly was my fault.”

Emma turned to him, confused, “What?”

He met her eyes. “My mum, if I would have let her take me, my mum would be alive, and maybe Liam would be too.”

Emma laughed, “Are you kidding me? To your mom it wouldn’t have been a choice. Your life for hers. She adored you, and "if she had it to do over again, she would choose you.” She smiled and reached out for his hands.

“It doesn’t matter, it's still my fault.”

She shook her head, “No, this is not your fault. Whoever angered this thing, that’s who is at fault.”

Leo arrived from the kitchen with a big smile. He had a big, chocolate smeared grin on his face as he put the plate of warm cookies on the table.

They ate a few of the delicious, gooey cookies in silence.

“Hey kid, do you mind keeping Belle company for a while? We need to go to the farm to pick up some stuff. It won’t take long. You know how organized mom is.” said Emma.

Leo just nodded his agreement. He liked Belle.

Killian leaned into Emma’s space, “We better hurry, if Belle is right about her deductions. When is the Founder’s Gala?”

“Tomorrow night. Do you really think she’s right?” Emma glanced at Leo worriedly.

“She seems like a smart lass. Imagine if someone has wronged you, would you be happy if that person was celebrated as a hero?” His eyebrows rose to his hairline.

Emma sighed "I get it. I just think it's crazy."

Killian smiled "What? That there's a vengeful ghost out there targeting the people you love?" His ears reddened. He meant Leo, but deep inside he hoped he was included. He hadn't been back that long, and now he was having a hard time seeing himself anywhere else.

“Alright let’s go. Come on, kid.” They shuffled out of the diner after paying for their meal. They walked to the library, and Leo rushed inside.

“Don't worry lass," Killian encouraged her, "he will be okay. We will find a way to end this.”

They drove out to her parent’s farm just outside of town.

“So when did your parents move from the old house?” Killian asked.

Emma didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I think we moved a few years after your mom. The neighborhood didn’t feel the same. My dad always wanted a farm.” She shrugged.

“Do you not live with your parents?” Killian turned his full attention to her.

“Oh no, I don’t. Dad wasn’t happy about that. He claimed it made no sense since the farm is big enough. He said I wouldn’t lack privacy, but I enjoyed living on my own when I was in Boston. The loft is pretty cheap, I lucked out.”

They arrived at the Nolan Farm.

“Would you like a tour, Killian?”

“Not this time, let’s just find what we came for. Maybe another time you can show me around.”

“It shouldn’t take long, my mom is very organized.”

They got to the cellar and found a few old trunks. Each going through a trunk, they searched for the journals.

After an hour or so, Emma said, “Killian, I think I found something. Uh, this diary is from Eva right after the first Founder’s Gala. I tried to warn them but no one listened.” she muttered, “I knew Hester Blue wouldn’t be pleased.” Emma mumbled, “Oh here we go. My grandmother told me how Hester was killed unjustly. She loved the town kids, indulged them with sweets, and as a special treat when they lost their last baby tooth, she would give them a gold coin.” Emma looked up when she heard scuffling, and Killian sat next to her “the youngest Spencer and Midas went into the forest alone after they were told not to. They were missing for hours. The town quickly turned on Hester. She got blamed for the missing children.” Emma looked at Killian, “she was judged and executed by the town’s most powerful men. They buried her by a tree next to her home. Since her death, the forest hasn’t been the same.”

“I believe this is it, Is there anything more?” Killian asked as he got up.

Emma flipped through the pages. “We can take it and read it carefully at the library.”

“Alright let’s get back to Belle and young Leo. I just hope there’s more of the location. Do you think her home is still out there?”

“We’ll find out.” Emma grabbed his hand and with her free hand held on to the diary.

They headed to the library to share with Belle the new information they had found and to see if they could find out more.

Once again Emma asked for Leo to spend the night, but they spent it with Killian. Leo felt safe with Killian.

~~~

In the shadows of the town, the vengeful spirit of Hester lurked. She hid in the dark corners. She had become angrier and restless after the child escaped her all those years ago. There was a new child to focus her ire on, but he too proved elusive.

#cssns19 #Captain Swan #cs ff #kmomof4 #CS Crew #CS Mafia #cs au #cs ff au

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