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dcbicki · 3 years ago

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holding my breath for you (crowd my grave)

A Rick/Harley fix-it fic • Chapter 1/?

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s not because it’s one o’clock in the morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

She shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket, “I know people.”

Rating: T/M • Characters: Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, and mentions of others • Read on AO3 or below the cut

“I think I just walked in on someone screwin’ a goat.”

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s definitely not because it’s one o’clock in the goddamn morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

The blonde shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket. “I know people.”

“Better people than mine, apparently,” Rick rasps, and he runs a hand through damp hair. Thankfully he’d managed to trade in the towel for sweatpants before she’d started pounding on the door. “So much for flying under Waller’s radar.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Harley says, and the sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose when she dips her head to shoot him a devilish look, single brow raising, “I promise she don’t know I’m here.” Suddenly there’s a hand in his face and she’s wiggling her right pinkie finger as if that'll prove anything.

She taps one foot against the carpeted floor then, toe of her boot crossing the threshold, and Rick has decided she reminds him of a vampire; one covered in sparkles and tattoos with a pink, fluffy duffle-bag dangling from her fingertips, but a bloodsucker all the same. “Ya gonna invite a girl in or what?”

“You plan on telling me what you’re doin’ here first?” he asks, but then he’s moving out of the way so she can duck under his arm and enter. Harley breezes past him, tossing her bag somewhere across the room, and she plops herself down into the old, worn leather seat by the television. There’s some Spanish soap opera playing to itself on the screen.

“Mi casa es su casa… and all that.” Flag grumbles, pulling the door to a close behind her—but not before shooting a quick look out over her shoulder towards the parking lot. He locks it, then turns and presses his back up against it, hands on his hips.

“You can stop looking so constipated, Flag, I told ‘ya. I’m off the grid myself these days.” She taps the side of her neck twice. “The old dragon lady ain’t coming for either of us.”

“Right.” A nod, then, “Dubois told me about that.” The deal. The squad forcing Waller to meet them halfway and offer freedom in exchange for silence.

(He hadn’t exactly been shocked to find out Dubois was still in possession of the drive. It was a smart move; not the best one, or the right one, and it was a far cry from the one Rick had fucking died trying to pull, but not everybody lived by a code of honor. He couldn’t blame the rest of the team for following suit.)

“Milton knew?! He knew where you were this whole time and didn’t tell me? That mother fucka!” She grits her teeth, nails strumming atop the television cabinet.

(He doesn’t ask about Milton. It’d probably be a long, convoluted story and he’s not exactly in the mood for one of Harley Quinn and her gift of gab. Not that he has much of a choice right now...)

“Now you wanna tell me what you’re doin’ here?”

Ignoring him, Harley takes in her surroundings, chewed-end of her plastic sunglasses between her teeth as she eyes the dingy room. It’s cramped for sure, dull magnolia paint is chipping off the walls, and there’s a queen-sized bed with crumpled up grey sheets and three flat pillows, a sign of recent use. Odd number, Harley notes. Would four kill them?

The little washroom is beside the dresser, and there’s a towel hanging from the bathroom doorknob, wet footprints still clear on the tiled floor. It’s only then that she looks up and realizes he’s shirtless. Oh.

“This place got food? I could so do with a burrito right about now.”

(A place this rundown probably doesn’t even have a cleaning crew, much less any other kind of service. Although, there was half a pack of mints beside the sink when Rick first rented the room so does that count?)

(He’s not ashamed to say he finished them off.)

“I got whiskey and half an eggroll, that do ‘ya?” Rick quips, and there’s a smirk starting on his lips.

He’s still waiting for an explanation as to why the hell she’s here, how the hell she’s here, and what the fuck she thinks she’s doing by checking up on him in the first place. He’s supposed to be laying low—supposed to be dead—and she’s supposed to be free. Or at least as free as someone like her can get, which probably isn’t very free at all.

But there’s something off about her whole demeanor, something decidedly un-Harley, and the man can’t help but feel like he’s just waiting for something. Whether it’s one of Waller’s goons bursting through the door, or Harley herself finishing the job or, hell, Harley breaking down (and God, he hopes it’s not that), he’s not sure. He’s not great with emotions. And she’s without a doubt the most expressive person he’s ever had the (dis)pleasure of knowing.

“Hi, Harley. You know, I’m doing pretty good after havin’ my heart practically ripped apart by a fuckin’ toilet seat. How ‘bout you?” She lowers her voice as if to match the bass in his own and goddamnit he finds it charming.

(He doesn’t have the heart to correct her.)

“You know, a little heads-up that you weren’t DOA might’ve been nice, Colonel.”

“Wasn’t exactly high on my priority list,” he informs her, voice dipping as he nods, slow. “Staying alive kinda won that round. You know, ‘cause of the shit jammed in my chest.”

“They said it came out the other side, ‘ya know. My guys. Wanted to see for myself.” She stands up then and walks to him until she’s about four inches away from his face, taking in the long gash above when his heart lies. “I’m thinkin’ they lied though because that don’t look too deep to me.”

“Yep. Not much to see.” He shrugs, heavy as though there’s weight on his shoulders, casting a glance down at his chest when she raises a hand. She doesn’t touch him; just lets her fingers dance in the air above the skin. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

The scar runs right down the middle of his chest. From left collarbone to navel; a rushed surgery in a (probably, totally) sketchy makeshift hospital. It’s not a good look. But she’s seen worse. “It’s healin’ just fine. I’m getting plenty of fluids and I’m takin’ my meds. Think you can be on your way now you’ve done your check-up.”

“I thought you died.”

“False alarm.”

“You died,” Harley repeats, and there’s an edge to her voice Rick doesn’t recognize. She moves from one foot onto the other, swaying back and forth on her heels, eyes unmoving from off of his chest. “And I didn’t even get a goodbye out of it.”

“Was I…” he pauses, considers the look on her face for a moment. “Apologies.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“The fuck you want me to do? Go back in time and tell him to wait so you can make it about you first?”

“Just think it’s kinda rude for one of my friends to go off and die and leave me alone like that.”

“Tad dramatic, don’t you think?” Rick asks before remembering who he’s dealing with. Harley Quinn is theatrical and melodramatic and showy. Of course, she’d turn this into a whole fucking thing. “You’re a grown ass woman with a criminal record and probably a couple dozen bounties on your head, I think you can handle getting on a plane without a handler.”

She stops swaying. But the look on her face is ice cold and calculating and if he didn’t know her any better, he might be slightly terrified. So this is the infamous killer queen, huh? She wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe once upon a time, a few years back, but not now. Not after… “You’re supposed to be the leader.”

“You had Dubois.”

“But not you. And I know Milton’s a fine leader an’ all, but he’s not exactly a great conversationalist. Or much of a hugger.”

“I ain’t either.”

“But you humour me. ‘Ya put the effort in, Flag.” The blonde pokes his chest, manicured and pale fingernail against his sternum, skin hot to the touch. “And no one else is gonna do that for me, so yeah, I’m kinda mad that you went and got your heart broken into little tiny pieces and didn’t think to let me know you weren’t buried under a fuckload of concrete. Not very friendly of you.”

“And since when are we friends?”

There’s a silence then, and now he’s reconsidering not showing any signs of fear. He’s in no position to fight her. Harley is… Well, one kick and it’d be lights out for Flag.

(Since Waller forced her to take swimming lessons with a mean, ‘It’s a basic life skill, Ms. Quinn. No one else is going to have your back out there' and he made sure he was her assigned instructor. Even brought her a cute two-tone bathing suit that wasn’t Belle Reve-approved and all. Since everyone in Gotham decided they wanted Harley Quinn six feet under and he let her crash on his couch that one time—those three times—and he made her bacon and eggs in the morning. And he didn’t even get mad when she got ketchup all over his carpet. Since she got drunk that second time and kissed him out of loneliness and he never held it against her.)

“Whatever,” she backs away from him with a huff, but her eyes are still dark; a sure sign that she’s not happy. “I’m starving.”

“There’s a place around the corner.”

“Aces,” she grins, then picks up a discarded shirt from the foot of the bed and tosses it to him.

There’s no mention of her getting her own room. It goes unspoken: she’ll be staying here with him.

“Not sayin’ this is better than sex, but it’s definitely better than a lot of the sex I’ve had lately.”

“Good for you,” Rick retorts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glances around the restaurant. There’s only one other patron in there aside from them, and the chef is off somewhere in the back. He glances down at his watch, then fists the napkin in his other hand.

“Am I keeping you up?” Harley jests, curling her legs up beneath her on the stool. It squeaks under her weight, one of the metal legs unevenly balanced on the patterned tiles. “Got plans I’m disruptin’?” She clicks her tongue, a devilish grin in full swing.

“Nope. Just rest ‘n recuperation, right, Doc? That your diagnosis?”

“Prognosis,” she corrects him, then drops the rest of her tinfoil-wrapped burrito onto the little round table, a thin layer of grime coating the surface. “And yes,” Harley says with a light nod, putting on her best matter-of-factly voice. She feigns pushing glasses up her nose, head tipping back to look down at him for a change. He’s leaning against the table with his forearms crossed, tanned skin pressing against the greasy tabletop as his sharp chin rests on a curved wrist. “Sleep and that bottle of bourbon my little eye spied hiding under ‘ya bed will do the trick just fine, Colonel,” she says cheerily.

He nods, only half-listening. “Can’t wait.”

“You could smile every once in a while, ‘ya know. I came all the way to Ti-fuckin’-juana to make sure you weren’t rotting away and letting yourself go in some ol’ shitshack. Would a little appreciation for the thought go amiss?”

“I didn’t ask you to,” the man tells her, leaning back in his chair. He clasps both hands in his lap. “Matter of fact, I’m still wondering why you did. What’s the deal, you get bored running from the feds for a change? Didn’t think you tired so easily.”

“What if I just missed you, huh? ‘Ya consider that possibility, soldier?” She pushes her hands out, her chair scraping back against the floor again. Harley picks up the rest of her food, casting him a dark look. “You’re no fun.”

“Never have been, Harley, that shouldn’t be news.” He follows after her, rushing to keep the door from swinging back in his face when she exits the restaurant in what he can only assume is anger. Or maybe she’s just messing with him; truthfully, it’s hard to tell sometimes. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, you know.”

“I am a delight,” she says, whipping around to face him, palm flat against her chest. The many rings on her fingers tap against her necklaces, and she stares up at him with furrowed brows. “Everybody loves me.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true, either.”

“OK, well not everybody hates me, how’s about that?” The scowl on her face turns into a smile then, teeth-baring and wicked. Her eyes are blown wide like saucers, and the crimson lipstick on her mouth suddenly becomes the only thing Rick can focus on that isn’t… Doesn’t... Deranged, he thinks.

Harley Quinn is an absolute basket case and he must be out of his fucking mind for finding her so damn… what? Fascinating? It’s as close as he can get to thinking of a word to describe her that isn’t derogatory. She’s a character and a half, a whole clown car full of crazy jam-packed into one tatted and made-up doll of a woman, but God help him if he doesn’t kind of want to--

“That’s more like it.” She’s probably hard to love, but she’s not easy to hate.

Rick smiles back, finally, then reaches out a hand—tentatively. She’s still her and he’s never a hundred percent certain she won’t slit his throat with a Hello Kitty keyring or something—and wiggles long fingers. “Wanna get drunk and watch god awful late-night television?” He leans down; not too close, not close enough for her to grab, and adds, “Friend?”

Whatever that thing was he’d been waiting for, that unidentifiable something he’d felt looming over them since she showed up in his doorway an hour ago, looking somehow both tired and elated, finally revealed itself; in the form of tears in Harley’s eyes and a shaky hand accepting his.

She nodded and excitedly said ‘yes!’ and then he realized all she’d been after was a friend; the comfort of knowing that there was someone in the world who wasn’t out to get her, who had nothing to gain by being good to her.

And she’d almost lost that. Lost him.

(So when she hogs two of the three pillows on his bed and helps herself to one of his shirts—his favorite, actually. An old wife-beater with torn sleeves and a faded wildcat on the front—Rick doesn’t say a thing. Just lets her curl up in a ball beside him, red tips brushing against his bare shoulder, and rest.)

#the suicide squad #harley quinn #rick flag #harley x flag #quinnflag #rickquinn #tss fanfic #notifications #ship: harley x rick #film: the suicide squad

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junewild · 4 years ago

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tagged by dearest @cithaerons to quote, from memory, some snippets of media or literature that live rent free in my head. whoof buddy we are in for a big storm because there are a lot and they are very angsty

“a mother hen’s devotion to her chicks is evidence that given sufficient billions of years, stardust will turn into kindness.” - daniel geiger

“girl is born as girl. her brother is born as bull. every day the brother wishes himself human and the girl wishes herself beast. not a cow but a bull. something powerful with feet heavy enough to trample gods.” - @beholdingslut

“the soap by the sink is milk and honey scented. it doesn’t make our hands holy. it doesn’t make this apartment jerusalem. ... i think our bodies are meant to hold other bodies.” - @grendelmenz (?)

“the truth is this: my love for you is the only empire i will ever build. when it falls, as all empires do, my career in empire building will be over.” - mindy nettifee

“i just want someone to grab my little face and scream: on purpose, on purpose i am going to care about you.” - jenny slate

“the first sign of civilization is a femur that has broken and been healed.” - margaret meade (probably apocryphal but who cares?)

“i love and am loved and i never thought i would let it happen. i am here to tell you that the years you spent wanting were not in vain. you will press your forehead to their forehead in your car when you are ready. you will hold hands while you drive them home. you will watch jeopardy while they lay on your chest. you have no idea the joy that is coming. you have no idea the joy that is coming.” and “if love is anything tangible it is his mouth, his mouth, his holy goddamned mouth. he says my name and the whole sky is talking.” and “it ends or it doesn’t. we do not perish.” AND “i know it’s not right to say things like this, so i’ll only say it once. listen closely. are you listening? bring your ear to my mouth. i would follow you anywhere. i would. god, i would.” - caitlyn siehl / @alonesomes (guess whomst has been influenced)

“why do we breathe air? because we love air? because we don’t want to suffocate. why do we eat? because we don’t want to starve. how do i know i love her? because i can sleep after i talk to her.” - maggie stiefvater

“go ahead. be gouged open by love. gulp that seawater, sink beneath the waves. you’re not a boat, you can go under and come up again, with those great big lungs of yours. and your heart, that gargantuan ark. call it unsinkable, though it is sinkable. embark, embark. there are enough ballrooms in you to dance with everyone you’ve ever loved.” - laura lamb brown-lavoie

“it is in your best interests to find a way to be very tender.” - jenny holzer

“i am alive ; can you not hear the ocean in me ; are you not aware of the war i am fighting ; i am alive ; you cannot take that from me.” - i think this one might also be caitlyn siehl but i can’t find it when i look for it anymore

“we don’t love this world without reason.” - @catadromously (this, along with “stay wolf my love” and “that’s all there is” is one of the only quotes i’ve ever considered getting as a tattoo)

“you painted a naked woman because you liked looking at her, and you put a mirror in her hand and called it vanity, thus condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for your own pleasure.” - john berger

“hail, holy light, offspring of heav��n firstborn. or of eternal, co-eternal beam. may i express thee unblam’d? since god is light, and never but in unapproach’d light. dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, bright effluence of bright essence increate.” - milton

“to seize each moment, to live to the fullest the love between us, to refuse no joy set before us, that each day might be a gold coin to add to the treasure of our love. until i’ve drunk the last drop in the cup and no more days remain to me, as long as life shall last, until i take my last breath of the sweet air.” - wedding vows for hobbits written by lindelea

“i was making dinner and i got a message. go look outside, it said. go look at the sunset. my apartment is small, with four rooms and two windows that don’t see a lot of light so i had no idea. i hurried out. i was running to this sunset, suddenly the only thing that mattered. i hurried past the taller buildings and made it to the park and the sky was bleeding shades of purple and pink. it was beautiful and fleeting, there one minute and gone the next. i almost missed it. i could have kissed it. and i started thinking: how lovely would it be to get a nudge, a tap on the shoulder before your life changes. stop what you’re doing and look around. you’ll want to remember this later. in a minute, you’re going to fall in love.” - kelsey danielle

not quotes, but the confession scene from fleabag and the leslie/ben proposal and wedding scenes from parks and rec live rent free in my mind and i will never stop thinking about them. never.

i tag @grizzlybairparty @sabertoothwalrus @zubeia @eileentide @beholdingslut @crypticspren @goldengirlschildhood and anyone else who’d like to try it!

#personal #tag game #and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

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sayuricorner · 4 years ago

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Ever After High x Twisted Wonderland AU Headcanons part 10: Milton Grimm’s and Snow White’s last stand and downfall

Part 9 Part 11

AU concept

MASTERLIST

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing.

So I put a pause to the characters profiles headcanons to make this more continuity headcanons related part.

It will focus on Milton Grimm's and Snow White's last aptempt to get Raven back to EAH which will lead to their downfall.

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

-So at EAH Milton Grimm is becomming quite deseparated: he lost most of his students, the majority of his teachers leaved to teach at others schools and his public image is degrading day by day.

-And for Snow White things aren’t better either, despites her best efforts to keep the upper hand in all this mess her public image is stained.

-The two don’t know what to do, if only they could bring Raven back and made her sign the book then surrely things would go back the way they were.

-That when Milton Grimm got an idea, maybe if they use one of Raven’s worst fear against her they will get her to sign the book, but to put that plan in motion he need to find the true storybook of legends and quick!

-After searching thoroughly in the whole school he finally found the book under the floor of the former dorm room of the Evil Queen and the Red Riding Hood.

-Milton immediately contacted Snow White and the two begin to plotting their newest plan.

-Meanwhile at NRC everyone was very busy, ‘cause the international magical shift tournament was about to take place on the school’s grounds, many schools from the country and from other lands were going to participate and NRC was making sure to have everything ready for the tournament.

-Since she join the magical shift club Ramona participate in the tournament with the school’s team.

-Raven with her friends assist at the tournament to show support to the school team with the others students.

-However Blondie was acting strangely, some time after the begining of the event she seemed rather nervous and jumpy but everytime someone asked her if she was alright she would always answer she’s alright.

-Everything seemed fine until two unwelcomed faces show up: Milton Grimm and Snow White.

-Raven become very nervous when she saw them and her friends, classmates and dormmates quickly between Raven and the two new comers two protect Raven from them.

-When asked what they are doing here Snow White and Milton Grimm with a serious face tell Raven that Apple is no more, she “go poof” because of Raven’s refusal to accept her destiny and that the only way to make her come back is to sign the storybook of legends and to become the next Evil Queen.

-Raven’s friends are outraged they yell at the duo calling what they say a bluff and telling them to leave Raven alone.

-And Raven... She was stunned, she was like a statue, her eyes wide in shock and horror and to everyone’s she snap.

-All her guilt, her stress, her distress, and sadness were released in a heartbreaking scream, the others tried to calm her down but it was no use, Raven’s negative emotions were unleashed making her overblot(see headcanons special 2 )

-Now Apple “going poof” is obviously a lie, she’s very well alive but her role in those events depend of the path whoever use this AU choose for Apple’s fate.

-If it’s follow the “Apple’s happily ever after” path: Apple don’t know a thing about the plan since after her parents’s divorce she left the White Kingdom with her father and go to a new school.

-In fact she was present at the international magical shift tournament as a player ‘cause when she joined her new school she took interest in magical shift and so decided to join her school’s team and she found out she was good at this sport and loved play it.

-Blondie spotted her at the tournament but since the wounds of the abuse were still open Blondie got scared and quickly leave which explain why Blondie seemed so nervous.

-But while the others were fighting against overblot Raven, Blondie knew what must be done in order to fix this mess so she gather up her courage she quickly go find Apple.

-She found her with her magical shift team helping to evacuate people to safety and after a little akward moment Blondie recompose herself and tell Apple what her mother and Milton Grimm had done.

-When hearing this Apple was horrified and angry, how could her mother do this?

-So she follow Blondie to where the others were doing their best to heal Raven from her overblot form and when Raven was weakened but not turned back yet in her normal form Apple throw herself to Raven, trapping her in a hug while yelling with tears in her eyes like “Raven please come back! None of what my mother said is true! Look at me I’m right here, I didn’t “go poof” it was all a lie! I’m so sorry you don’t deserve any of this please!”

-Raven just stood here shocked, Apple was there and very real, bursting in tears she go back to her normal self while hugging back Apple.

-The others gatered around them to make sure both girls were okay relieved to see Raven being back to normal but this relievement was cut short by Snow White and Milton Grimm being their idiots self, with Snow White blathering critics to her daughter and trying to convince her to go back to her side again while Milton Grimm was blathering about their destinies needed to be done which made Apple mad to the point she snap.

-She screamed at Milton Grimm and her mother telling a powerfull “the reason why you suck” speech telling how fed up she was with their non-sense and even tell her mother she disown her.

-This stunned completly Snow White and Milton Grimm they try to justify themself to convince Apple to change her mind not noticing a very furious Crowley and police officers with him.

-When he confront them Crowley told the duo he was fed up with their behavior and he will make sure to take actions to have them banned from his school and the whole Twisted Wonderland world.

-Of course Snow White and Milton Grimm didn’t like this at all and started being outraged like “how dare you?”, “You have no right to do this!” and even tell him it’s his and his school fault for even making Raven’s transfer to begin with which make Crowley shake his head in disappointment and tell them “No wonder Bella and Brutta Sister have done everything they can to get away from the Ever After world!”(There’s going to have a headcanons part about Bella and Brutta Sister soon! 😉)

-Milton Grimm and Snow White shocked by the fact Crowley know about the two sisters tried to get answers from him but were took away by the authorities.

-Aftermath Raven was send to the infirmary and while her recovery Apple, her and all the others EAH students got a long talk about everything what happened and while they’re not friends again yet they’re in a process of reconciliation which for Apple is a good start.

-Meanwhile things turned for the worst for Snow White, with the mess they created they have been officially banned from the Twisted Wonderland world and the people of the Ever After world are beyong pissed at them to the point a revolution against Snow White burst out and both her and Milton Grimm were arrested and a temporary gouverment was founded.

-At their trial Snow White is destitute from her queen title, Milton Grimm is stripped from his headmaster title, Ever After High is shut down and the duo is exiled from the kingdom.

-And so both Snow White and Milton Grimm are chased from the White Kingdom with both one objective: make Raven Queen and the whole Twisted Wonderland world pay for their humiliation.

- If it’s follow the “Apple’s badly ever after” path: Apple is 100% involved in the plan.

-She was tasked to stay in her room and to not come out unless her mother or Milton Grimm told her to do it.

-But being the delusioned nutjob she is, she decided to make some videos for her social medias.

-Said videos were saw by Blondie when she was looking on her mirrorpad which explain why she seemed so warry.

-After the battle against overblot Raven, the others try to talk to Raven but she’s still plagued with guilt believing Apple diseappered because of her.

-Thankfully Blondie remember the videos and posts Apple posted on her social medias just today so she showed the posts and videos to Raven to show her Milton Grimm and Snow White lied to her.

-When she saw this Raven was relieved and angry at the same time and confronted both Snow White and Milton Grimm about what they tried to do, which quickly turned into a screaming match between the two idiots and Raven and her friends.

-Crowley’s intervention is the same than in the “Apple’s happily ever after” path including the White Kingdom’s people’s revolution and Milton Grimm’s and Snow White’s arrestation, trial and exil.

-The only difference in this path is during the revolution Apple was taken by the authorities of the temporary goverment and was put in the care of her father but because of how crazy she become her father got no choice but to put her in a mental institution hopping she would be heald someday.

-At the mental institution since Apple was crazy magical inhibitors were put on Apple so like this she wouldn’t go overblot.

TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@virgil-is-a-cutie , @zebrabaker , @twistedwonderlxnd , @cowardlybravette , @iwilldietomorrowyees , @balsae , @shinypainterkid , @biscuitbirdpeach , @feuilleszuyu , @pale-lady-dreamer , @fanartreblogs , @kindestwalkingmentalbreakdown , @yue-caelum , @shuirosansshitposts , @icant-choosename-help

#ever after high #twisted wonderland #ever after high au #crossover #headcanons #headcanon #raven queen #milton grimm #snow white #apple white #blondie lockes #dire crowley #overblot #au idea

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pokedash55 · 4 years ago

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Acronix X Coffee Robot Crack AU

SUGGEST READING MY ECHO MEETS ACRONIX FIC BEFORE THIS

IT BUILDS ON THIS WACKY WORLD OF MINE

Click for Echo Meets Acronix Fic

To summarize//TL;DR: Acronix falls out of the time vortex at the light house a befriends Echo Zane, learns empathy and put Echo on Social media so everyone knows he exists now.

-After he leaves echo zane with a borg watch he finds himself back in Ninjago

-Stalks borg and his fam like a creep

-Jay introduces Echo to the dyer family

-Echo and unagami are siblings now

-Acronix is kinda like Echos big brother

-But no one else accepts this

-Zane and Pix give skeptical and menacing, “if you touch him” glares

-Unagami is confused babi and likes their new brother echo

-So Like One day it’s Borg, Pix, Zane, Jay, Unagami, Echo, and Milton dyer, and Acronix in a room together (Fic on that later :3 )

-The whole fam

-Nixie just lingers around borg tower saying random junk sometimes

-Acronix : “You either die a villian or live long enough to see yourself become…”

-Pix: “A very annoying customer who is about to be escorted out of the building?”

-“UH NO. Wrong answer Pix (“dont call me pix”). REDEEMED. Cause I’m like… totally redeemed now”

-Just holds up a high five for the room and left hanging by everyone

-Jay’s like :Yeeeoree not part of our group”

-So like Acronix and Echo Zane are bro’s now cause I said so??

-Everyone: Nix is part of the Borg Family

-Me: Well YES, but actually no

-This isn't really a Future thing

-In this they're mostly frenemies kinda??

-But Acronix does really like him and borg tower and Borg is too nice to throw him out XD

-Acronix has zip money and doesn’t FEEL like looking for Krux rn

-Gets his morning coffee everyday bro

-Starts crushin on the Coffee manager (naming her shannon after the voice actor)

-His routine is basically wake up, coffee, Shannon, stalk borg, watch memes, think about looking for kux than fall asleep on phone

-Posts bout his lil bro alot (echo)

-Posts about Shannon ALOT

-Many many selfies of him an his coffee

-Realizes he may need to get someplace to live since he had yet to venture for krux

-Shoot money is a thing he doesn’t have

-Borg be super kind like, “You can stay at my Newly renovated highly advanced Borg Hotel but you must get a job.”

-Acronix gestures at being one of those technology intern clerks at borg industries. “Is for me?”

-”Must get a job AND leave my family alone…. For now… please?”

-Borg is too nice to the guy who kidnapped him and is infatuated with living at borg tower

-Does borg live in borg tower?

-Gunna say he does

-Cause Acronix just LOITERS in borg tower 24/7

-Like its like hours after closing of the downstairs shop and Pix is like getting her suit on and forcefully escorting Nixie out of the premises

-So anyway Nix has to get a job

-Ugh entry level Jobs are SO beneath him.

-Pouts uwu

-Gets a job as a barista to at least have fun with someone cool

-Ronin notices that sales have gone up in the coffee shop since Acronix has started hanging around there, because the girls think he’s pretty and he posts a lot on social media.

-Ronin wants this, but doesn’t want to have to actually pay Acronix for being a faceman.

-Hires him “as a barista”. Basically he hires Acronix to sit at the counter and look pretty, while giving the joint free advertising.

-Acronix totally doesn’t notice this and is fine with being completely exploited and underpaid.)

-Acronix X Coffee Bot! (In this she’s named Shannon)

-Shannon is like… chill and rude, but never offensive

-Cheats in chess

-Smug about it too like deamn she mean

-Epic moves (Both spinny sign and juggling. And makes epic coffee)

-Unflinching at a fire

-Complete apathy

-Throws "Floyds" teapot plan away immediately cause she doesn’t get paid enough for this sh*t

-Says she doesn’t drink coffee but than is seen drinking coffee that lier

-Bad habit of Ignoring stufft. Ignores the upgrade, ignores her lie detector, ignores the fact the -machine is literally ice frozen

-She wears a miniskirt and a crop top/bra thingy to WORK. On the clock! savage

-Nixie is confirmed to get crushes easily and like powerful/ mean woman (Machia)

-Also he has no shame in liking nonhumans

-Love technology so would totally vibe with her

-Robotsexual for sure

-Powercouple

-Since she is still A.I, so Nix’s outgoing and I don’t care i'm great loud personality would really surprise her and she’d be inspired/impressed by his lack of chill and lack of care

-She has a bit of sass and goth hot topic to her but also still has that robot innocence that would blend nicely with Acronix since he is also Abrasive and rude on the outside, but is a tad of a softy coward (He hugs his bro and cowers behind him and gets adorably defensive when he snarks at him)

-He’d teach her so much about being more alive… maybe a bad influence but she’d dig it

-He calls her Shay almost constantly

-He hates being called Nix

-Like he is a prideful warrior who expects people to use his full name in respect

-But Shannon is too cool for that

-Calls him Nix sometimes anyway

-Respects her boldness

-The audacity to do so without permission!

-Shannon owns a motorcycle because come on

-Ridin home on a sick bike together

-Stealin stuff when people aren’t looking

-Banned from Ronin thrift shop for sure (they're lucky they weren't fired after that night. But he literally can't fire shannon)

-Chill on friday nights at Laughys karaoke.

-Not singing, just laughing at how stupid other people look singing drunk kareoke

-So a jock dork egotist and a apathetic punk bot walk into a bar

-Dareth honestly doesn’t know this guy was the one sending snakes after his trophies so he just treats him like a normal costumer

-Neither of them care about Dareth’s attempts at small talk.

-Too busy loving themselves like idiots

-She kicks his ass in strategy video games and he destroys her in battle royal stuff

-Both are equally bored by like Animal crossing and other fake life games YAWN so much work

-Shannon enjoys the thrill of racing games

-Nixie plays em but it’s not his best game

-Both GEAMMERS (but in a frighteningly cool way. They somehow both avoid nerd status… nixie still a dork tho. Jock dork)

-She makes coffee art of her hubbies face.

-He gives her so much social media attention

-Acronix gives her coffee shop media rep and he loves the petty feeling of beating Wu at something

-She doesn’t quite get his excitement in it (cause she’s on neutral terms with Wu) but loves the media attention

-She doesn’t get his phrases and he finds that both aggravating and endearing

-“Um I’m Aconic”

-Shannon: “So you’ve been lying about your name this whole time?

-Acronix: “...?”

-“That's honestly sick”

-Acronix “… “

-One day they joy ride on a motorcycle

-End up loitering around borg tower

-Borg officially meets Shannon and is interested in her origin

-Her design is not like he has seen but it also seems familiar

-She says she doesn't remember much other than working for ronin

-"Ronin" borg mutters spitefully

-He has a history of y'know.. Messing with his tech (dismantling pixal and selling zane hmmm)

-Does a diagnostic code scan

-Acronix worried bout his bae and hyped he was actually invited in for once.

-Progress on that "friendship"

-He discovers her model and general code is similar if not almost exactly the same as pixal’s code

-Ronin scrapped together with some mechanical help from his friends the walkers to make a functioning robot manager with borg tech he scrounged up and a stolen copy of pixal’s blueprints ( maybe he took pictures of them when he sold her to chen) and specs so he wouldn't have to pay for multiple employees. Just having the one really efficient one would save him thousands

-So shannon is pixals sister

-And her parents are The walkers, Ronin, and borg

-The family tree only grows people

-So Acronix is apart of the ninja family now if he marries Shannon

-Here's a chart if you're as confused as I am here:

-Anyway Shay doesn't really care much

- Her expression doesn't change

-She had never really gone out of her way to worry where she was from so it wasn't a huge revelation

-It was to nixie tho

-As the extravert he was (and has extensive experience of being a sibling) he had to make sure she got to know her new family NOW

-Like in the middle of the night now

-He never waits for things to happen

-Pix is first and she is about to power down for the night when...

-DOOR SLAMS OPEN

-"Hi SIS!!" Acronix just screams

-"hey. I'm like your sister now." Obvi shannon is more lowkey about it

-Shannon and pixal mildly get along

-Questions her taste in men alot

-Acronix chills in the back already bored and ready to move on.

-Although he's annoyed by them, the ninja were next up

-Zane and Jay are both family now

-Shannon starting to think he's using all this to fill the void of his brother being gone.

-Cause she has no interest for or against meeting these people but Nix sees it as urgent

-But he seems happier than usual so she'll let him throw her name around for a while. She did mooch off his social media so it was only fair

-Anyway eventually Acronix does find his brother, and tries to explain this whole mess to his less-than-thrilled twin

-God once Krux gets back tho

-“Hey bro! I married a robot she’s amazing!”

-He’s just taking selfies with her in hot topic outfits both of them

-“God no my brothers Robotsexual. My worst nightmares have been realized”

-Krux can only stare in horror at the people his brother now considers “family”

-Wu’s students?!, Robots!?, what EVEN IS AI?!?!?

-He eventually gets over it

-eventually maybe

-At least he can admire her attitude

-Will still mess with his bro tho.

-This is the worst timeline imaginable.

-But I can't apologize for art

18 notes · View notes

that-one-girl-behind-you · 5 years ago

Text

Illicio 11/?

Part 10

Gerry gives a dry, humorless snort as he sits up on the chair, and Jon lets go of his face to give him more movement. "It's- she was fond of me, she says." Jon stiffens, when Gerry's forehead lands softy on his stomach. "Where was that when she was making my page?"

"...I don't know." Jon whispers, bringing his arms to rest across Gerry's shoulders. "I- there are a lot of things I don't understand about her."

Gerry's arms tighten around his waist. "Of course. Night and day." His voice is muffled against Jon's sweatert, his breath filtering through the fabric, searing hot against Jon's skin.

"You loved her." Jon says, not really asking what he already knows.

"It didn't matter, in the end." Gerry snorts again. It sounds like it did. Like it does.

The fact that the Institute building is so beautiful when it holds so much horror is both very fitting and very jarring, Georgie thinks.

Once you know what you're looking for, you can see the subtle eyes carved amongst the leafy motifs wrapping around the exterior pillars, and the unnerving gaze of the rounded window above the double oak doors.

She doesn't go too close despite the pouring rain, preferring instead to lean against a lamppost across the street and text Melanie that she's already there. This is how she gets a first row seat, partly hidden behind her large umbrella, when Jonathan Sims comes down the street towards this terrible place.

With him is a man she's heard plenty about, tall and broad-shouldered, with long black hair and blue-green eyes. The hand he's not using to hold an umbrella above their heads is deep inside the pocket of Jon's coat, along with his own; Jon is leaning against his arm in that way Georgie knows means he wants you to hold him closer.

That last thought draws a sigh out of her, as the two men draw closer to the Institute. Jon has always been a complicated subject, but he's so much more so lately. Georgie loves him, but she's also terribly aware that every time she allows herself to care, she comes out burned. Just earlier this year she had to sit by his bedside wondering if he would ever wake up again, and if it would really be better if he did.

They seem to be saying goodbye now, and Georgie can feel the tension from here. Jon is tilting his chin up and slightly to the side, but also leaning slightly away from the man, who's leaning towards Jon, but retreats after a moment, taking a deep breath. Jon lets their hands fall apart as he climbs the steps towards the Institute. The man watches him disappear behind the door, and Georgie starts crossing the street.

"Hey." The man doesn't flinch at her voice, and Georgie wonders if he knew she was watching. "You're Jon's Gerry, right?"

The man snorts with a hint of resigned humor. "Yeah. I guess that's the only of putting it. You're Georgie?"

"The very one." Georgie nods. "Melanie has told me about you."

"Has she? I'm almost afraid to ask." Gerry smiles at the name, and Georgie finds herself mirroring it. "You look well. Jon will be happy to know."

Georgie sighs. "Actually... please don't tell him you saw me."

"Oh?" Gerry arches an eyebrow.

"I don't- we're not really talking anymore." Georgie shrugs. It's painful to say aloud, because Jon grows on you, with his rare smiles and his quiet gestures of love. Every time she lets him back in, it's a battle to rip him out.

"Huh. I thought he'd stayed with you last year while-"

"While the police looked for him, yes." Georgie crosses her free arm over her chest.

"That's... you do know he didn't do it, don't you?" Gerry frowns.

"Wouldn't have let him into my house if I didn't believe him. I just-" Georgie's gaze drifts towards the Institute. While it -like anything else, really- doesn't inspire any fear in her, she can hardly ignore what she knows about it. "I don't really approve of his decision to stay involved in all of this."

Before her, Gerry stiffens. "Excuse me, his what?" His eyes harden.

Georgie scoffs. "I'm not sure how long you've been here for, but Jon is very self destructive."

"Oh no, trust me, I know." The man shakes his head, and Georgie knows there's a story there. "But calling it his 'decision' is-"

"Listen, I'm not interested in discussing it," Georgie says, shaking her head. "I saw Jon recording his creepy stories even when he didn't have to, when I asked him to stop, and now Melanie's trapped here because-"

"Because you brought her here," the man snarls, and Georgie freezes.

"Excuse me?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

"Wasn't it you who told her where to give her statement? You're flinging a lot of bullshit accusations around for someone who doesn't even know-"

"Georgie?" Melanie's voice drips down on them colder than any rain could be. "Gerry? What's going on?"

Gerry's face does soften when he looks at Melanie, who descends the stairs and slips her hand into Georgie's like a reverse of the scene she just witnessed from across the street.

"Nothing. You should talk to her." He turns around then, and starts the walk back up the street, without a single look back.

"...What happened?" Melanie asks, squeezing her hand and looking up at her with a frown.

Georgie forces her body to relax, the man's last accusation still echoing in her mind. She looks back at Melanie, taking in the worried curve of her brows, the raindrops shimmering in her hair, the bags under her eyes from the nightmares. She loves her, Georgie thinks, she has for a while. Was this really all her fault?

"Melanie?"

"Yes?"

Georgie knows, really, that it is her ignorance as well as her lack of fear that has kept her somewhat safe from this world her loved ones move in; it's becoming increasingly difficult though, to stay that way. "I need you to tell me everything."

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

"What are you thinking?" Melanie asks, reaching a hand to intertwine their fingers together. "It's a lot to take in."

"It's true." Georgie looks down at her cold, untouched meal, replaying Melanie's story in her mind. "If I hadn't suggested you give Jon your statement-"

"Elias would have found me some other way," Melanie says immediately. "I- it's not even like I was marked already when I first came to the Institute. I think what really matters is that I came back, once I was. It's- really, nobody forced me to go around looking for more ghosts, Georgie. I just had to know. The Eye... it really is subtle."

Georgie runs a hand through her hair. This is- all of this, it's too much. "Is there really no way to stop it?"

Melanie pokes at her own half-eaten panini. "Not- I mean, I'm not controlled by the Slaughter anymore. But I signed the contract. That's- as far as we know, we're trapped in there. Jon says he and Daisy sort of were human again when they were in the coffin, but that's another dimension. I don't think there's a way to break it, not while we're alive."

She mulls this over for a moment. So... so Jon wasn't just being difficult when he said he couldn't stop recording the statements, or when he got his hand burnt. He- it's like all the frustration she's been harboring towards him the past year has congealed into a viscous, disgusting knot at the bottom of her stomach.

'You don't even have the credentials to be the head archivist', Georgie had said. It's terrible to know that that's probably the reason why Jon was offered the job in the first place. Jon, who's always doubted himself, and overcompensates by throwing himself head-first into things. Almost too easy, like throwing a stray dog a sausage stuffed with crushed glass, and watching it die painfully because it gave in to the need to eat.

"You don't have to just... like him again, you know?" Melanie reaches out to lay her hand on Georgie's. "I don't. I just- this is Elias' game."

And yet the only thought in Georgie's mind is that she left the hospital room without saying goodbye, and the dozens of unread texts and ignored calls in her phone. The fact that they stopped coming, when it became clear they weren't well-received.

"I- let's talk of something else, please," Georgie mutters, nearly begs. Were the nights on her sofa the last peaceful rest Jon had? "Did- did I show you this picture of-"

"Georgie, you're shaking-" Melanie mutters, and Georgie's voice cracks. "I- tell me what's wrong. Please."

But she can't, can she? Distancing from Jon was the right decision, even he probably agrees with that. Still, Georgie can't get rid of the feeling that Jon was reaching out a hand while he drowned, and she just watched him go under.

"I just- I need a moment. Please."

She doesn't look up when Melanie moves her chair beside her, but Georgie does lean into her embrace. This at least she's sure of.

"All the time you need." Melanie says, patient in a way Georgie knows is non-existent with anyone else. "I'm here."

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

Everything feels different about statements, lately.

The ones at the Institute never feel like the ones he gets fresh off the source, of course, but even reading those old stale ones, or listening to Gertrude's recordings, bring forth a barrage of information that leaves Jon feeling as though he just finished a well-seasoned meal.

Exactly ninety-eight prisoners were 'freed' from the Japanese encampment by the Nemesis. A hundred and twenty two Japanese soldiers killed each other to the beat of the drums, and some of their hearts were still beating as their recently liberated prisoners stepped over their bodies to go meet the boats at the shore.

Leonard Holden's last thought, as he twisted Milton Gallagher's neck, was that the commander officer was right, and this was really just like killing chickens back at the farm. When the bayonet first stabbed into his back, he let out not a scream of fear, but the bestial bray of a pig after you slit its throat. He never stopped tapping his feet to the Piper's music.

He barely registers the sound of his door opening and closing, his eyes focused -but unseeing- on the tape recorder on the desk.

As Gertrude moves on with her suppositions, Jon can See the Spider's webs all over the Nemesis, obscuring it from those who could have fed more violence into its fire.

"Doesn't help with the Unknowing, though," Gertrude says, and Jon gives a bitter smile, leaning back against the wide, warm hand that comes to rest at his nape.

"I don't suppose it would." Jon brings a hand of his own to cup the back of his neck, and Gerry intertwines their fingers together.

"Dekker always did have fun ideas," Gerry chuckles.

"Gerard may have a connection to the Eye, but I'm not sure it's enough... besides, I must admit I've grown fond of the boy."

Oh shit.

Jon scrambles to stop the tape, but Gerry reaches it first, and puts his weight on Jon's shoulder to keep him from getting up.

"Gerry, don't-"

"I do wonder sometimes, if I should tell him about Eric. He might decide to follow in his father's footsteps, but it's not like it did Eric any good in the end... Anyway, point is..." Gertrude continues to ramble on, but Jon couldn't care less about what else she has to say as he pushes his chair back. Gerry's grip on his shoulder has grown lax, as he stares at the tape recorder in his hand with a raised eyebrow.

"Gerry-"

"What does she mean, my father's footsteps?" Gerry's eyes, confused and hurt, fix on his when Jon climbs to his feet. "Jon?"

"I- I don't know." Jon closes his eyes, but the Watcher won't volunteer any information. He digs harder, but is only shoved back with the same ferocity with which knowledge is forced into his head. "Gerry I- oh!"

When he parts his eyelids again, twin streams of ink are flowing down from Gerry's nostrils, and Jon wipes at them with his sleeve.

"Your shirt-"

"Stop it," Jon snaps. "What makes you think it will let you Know, if it won't let me? Sit- just stay still already!" he bats away at Gerry's hand, pulling and pushing at him until Gerry's sitting on his chair and Jon stands between his legs, dabbing at the still flowing ink. "Stop trying to-"

"Jon, I can't!" Gerry snaps, wrapping a hand around each of Jon's wrists to pull them away from his face. "Do you even- what does she mean?!"

"Gerry, I don't know." Slowly, very slowly, Jon moves his hands to cup Gerry's face; his eyes are still unfocused, his breathing wild, and the ink is starting to run down his neck. "Please stop. You're hurting yourself." Jon's voice is very nearly begging, but he couldn't care less because Gerry's eyes finally focus on him.

Gerry lets go of his wrists, and Jon's heart skips a beat when his hands come to rest at Jon's hips almost tentatively.

"Doesn't-" Gerry starts, then clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse and rough. "It's not fun when it's someone else, huh?" he asks, his breathing still coming in long, shaky pulls.

"I- I suppose it's not." Jon slides his thumb over Gerry's cheekbone in an awkward gesture that he hopes transmits comfort. "Are you alright?"

"...I don't know." Jon whispers, bringing his arms to rest across Gerry's shoulders. "I- there are a lot of things I don't understand about her."

Gerry's arms tighten around his waist. "Of course. Night and day." His voice is muffled against Jon's sweatert, his breath filtering through the fabric, searing hot against Jon's skin.

"You loved her." Jon says, not really asking what he already knows.

"It didn't matter, in the end." Gerry snorts again. It sounds like it did. Like it does.

Jon digs a hand in Gerry's hair at the base of his neck, a mirror of the gesture Gerry uses on him all the time.

"I think it matters. I- I don't think Gertrude could afford to care, Gerry, but these recordings- they were for her." She couldn't have expected anyone would find them in her mess of an Archive, for sure. "She cared for you."

Gerry flinches like the words are yet another blow, and Jon tightens his grip on him, this man who only ever wanted to do good with his life, and who was hurt in return every time.

This man who is his now, something dark and slithery whispers at the back of Jon's mind, to correct the damage, to protect and comfort, if only he was powerful enough.

It's really hard to ignore the Beholding, when it speaks Jon's thoughts aloud.

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

Martin waits until the woman leaves, before he heaves a long, tired sigh.

This is... Less than ideal. He gives the whirring tape recorder an accusing glare and a shake of his head.

"Don't just 'brrrrr' at me. What are you doing, Jon?" he snaps. "Are you just- preying on people now? What am I supposed to do with this?!" He can't give it to Basira or Melanie, they'll kill him before they give him a chance to explain. Martin runs a hand through his hair.

There is someone else isn't it?

It's a dreadful thought, but after talking to the- to Jon's victim, he feels human enough to realize it's the Lonely feeling it, not him. Gerard is... whatever he is, he's helping. With Jon.

Martin pockets the tape recorder, and locks the door to Peter's office before starting down the corridor. It's relatively easy to follow in the specific direction the Lonely doesn't want him to go, but Martin feels another, lighter pull against his destination that he suspects might be the Eye.

"Of course you'd prefer him to keep doing it, wouldn't you?" Martin grumbles, glaring at one of the carved eyes in the masonry. "Well-"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

"Jesus!" Martin flinches, turning in time to see a smug smirk spread over Gerard's lips. "Could you stop doing that?!"

Gerard lifts both hands in surrender, his smirk still there and not apologetic in the least. "Sorry, sorry. It works just fine to get a bit of color back into you, though."

Martin huffs. "Well, don't. Anyways, I was looking for you."

"You were?" Gerard raises an eyebrow. "Got another Extinction statement?"

"No, actually..." and now that Martin has him before him, he's not really sure of how to put this into words. "Its- Jon has been taking statements," he says, shoving the tape in his direction. That's probably easy enough to understand right?

"O...kay? That's his job, isn't it?" Gerard does take the tape, but he's still giving Martin a quizzical look.

"No, I- he's- Gerard, he's been looking for statements. From people who don't come to the Institute to give them." And that's when he seems to catch on, because he grimaces, and lets out a low whistle. Martin nods. "A woman came to my office today, he- I think he compelled her."

Gerard looks down at the tape in his hand, the slightest curl of distaste at his lips. "How did she look? Was she...?"

Martin sighs again. "Said she's been having nightmares."

"Yeah..." Gerard shakes his head slowly. "That tracks."

"I just thought... he'll listen to you," Martin says, every word a little sting in his chest.

"He'd listen to you too," Gerard frowns, "I know you don't want to talk to him because of your isolation thing, but I think it would be better-"

"He loves you," Martin says simply. Like ripping a bandaid, if ripping a bandaid felt like tearing your skin off. He misses the numbness of the Lonely a little, but it's very unlikely he'd be able to call on it right now, not with Gerard right here.

"Whoa!" Gerard's eyebrows shoot up again, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips as if it's been punched out of him. Martin doesn't miss the color rising on his face, and his lips twitch. "That's- you don't know that."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Gerard-"

"Actually, can you not... call me that?" Gerard interrupts. "It gets on my nerves. Just... Gerry's fine, alright?"

"Oh." Martin blinks. "Okay? What does that have to do with this?"

"Nothing. I just- listen, I've spent every single moment since I was brought back to life hearing about how bad Jon has it for you." Gerry pockets the tape recorder, and Martin wonders if it's really alright, that they went from talking about Jon's victims straight to discussing which one he's in love with. Maybe Peter wasn't that far off when he called the Archives a soap opera. "And it's very frustrating when you keep being as obtuse as possible about it."

"I can't exactly do anything about that, can I?" Martin rolls his eyes. "I'm supposed to be isolating myself to- to save humanity or something, and like we established before, he has you, so-"

"There's more than one way to do these things, you know?" Gerry speaks over him, and Martin has to stop on his tirade due to choking on absolutely nothing. Gerry pats him on the back, and Martin bats his hand away, face burning.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Martin asks.

Gerry groans. "You're impossible. I'll talk to him."

He stomps down the stairs to the Archives, and Martin stays there, mortified, confused and a bit exasperated, which is apparently becoming his usual state after any interaction with Gerry.

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

"I know you've been feeding." Gerry says once they've sat down at the café, because there is probably not a good way to tell the man you're in love with that the man he is in love with had to come to you so you'd ask him to stop feeding on the fear of innocents.

Across the table, Jon pales immediately. "I- how?" he stutters out, and Gerry wants more than anything to reach over and lay a hand on his to reassure him, but there are things that must be said first. "Who told you?"

"Martin did. He... there was a tape. Apparently someone came in to complain." Gerry reaches inside his jacket, only to find that the pocket is... empty. "Huh. Wait."

He pats the other pockets, as well as the ones on his jeans just in case, but the tape is just gone. Gerry frowns, confused, until the very clear memory of a yellow door at the bottom of a drawer pops up in his mind, and he groans.

"Why- what would Helen want that tape for?" Jon asks, and Gerry frowns at him when his eyes start to give off the faintest green glow.

"Don't do that. That's exactly why we're here, Jon."

"I- yes. Sorry." Jon sheepishly lowers his gaze to the table. "I... know. I know I shouldn't have done it," Jon sighs. "I just..." his elbows come to rest on the table, and he buries his face in his hands. He looks... small.

There are places of power, for people aligned with the Entities. Mooreland Manor for the Lukases, Ny-Alesünd for the Dark's freaks, and Gerry can't even think about Hilltop Road without getting a headache.

The Archives are like that for Beholders; Elias is never as powerful as he is when sitting behind his desk, but Martin put him in jail and that means Jon is the biggest dog at the Archives now. Here at the little coffeeshop, however, apologizing for his very existence, Jon has never looked more frail. It's a relief, really. He doesn't know what he'd have done if Jon had reacted differently.

It means he's still Jon, even after all that's happened.

When Gerry reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, he's half afraid Jon will crumble to pieces under his fingers. Instead, the man's desperate gaze is aimed straight at him, and Gerry's relieved to notice it's not the bright green of the Archivist's eyes, but the sweet dark brown that looks at him over the edges of books at home.

"I don't know how to stop it. I don't even know why I'm doing it. It's- I don't want to hurt people." Jon says in the strained tone of a confession. "I- before the coffin, I knew I would need the strength, it was for Daisy. But after that I've just- it even made the statements a bit better, because I can Know more things about them-"

"Makes sense. Feeding regularly would make you more powerful." Gerry observes. Jon flinches back like the words had been a strike, and Gerry gives him a sympathetic shrug. "It's what you're doing; it's what Avatars do. At least people survive when you feed from them."

"That's... not helping." Jon's face looks pinched.

"No. I don't suppose it is." Gerry squeezes at his shoulder.

"I just- maybe I can live off of statements alone from now on. It's- they don't really.... but it's better, isn't it?" Jon asks, with the same fervor of a child insisting they can fix the toy they just broke.

"You don't have to stop." Jon's eyes widen at his words, narrowing in suspicion just a moment later. Gerry rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. You do have to stop feeding off of innocent people, that's not debatable. I wouldn't let you, either. It will only make you change faster, and I'd like to think that's not what you want."

"Of course not!" Jon snaps, shrugging Gerry's hand off his shoulder with an indignant huff. "I don't- that's the opposite of what I want!"

"Mhm. Thought so." Gerry nods. "Feed from willing people, then. People who won't be afraid of you." Jon's face is still fairly flushed after his little outburst, and Gerry has the sudden, very distracting thought that he would very much like to kiss him. But he's got a purpose, at least for now, and most importantly, he doubts it's the purpose the Eye had for him. "Feed yourself, not the Watcher."

"I don't- is that how it works?" Jon frowns.

"Maybe? It can't hurt."

"That's- I don't think people like that exist, Gerry. Should I only take statements from Institute employees now? Basira won't hear of it, and I won't ask Daisy or Melanie. I'm not going to-"

"Well no, not them." Gerry feels a smile tugging at his lips. Jon is ridiculously blind sometimes, for someone on the cusp of becoming quasi-omniscient. "Start me off, come on"

"...What?" Jon asks, and Gerry doesn't bother holding his grin back. "Gerry, what on Earth are you-"

"Yeah. You know...." Gerry schools his face into stern determination and forces his voice into a deep, affected accent. "Statement of Gerry Keay, regarding-"

"Are you crazy?!" Jon snaps. Gerry doesn't miss the new hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes. Maybe if Gertrude had reached this stage of becoming the Archivist, Gerry would've had an easier time mistrusting her; but then again he's literally just offered himself up as a meal for Jon, so maybe his self-preservation instinct is just not great. "I'm not going to take a statement from you!"

"Why not? I've got them in spades." Gerry shrugs.

"Haven't you heard what happens to my statement givers?!" Jon insists, but Gerry can see his hands shaking, white-knuckled around the edge of the table. A dog before a steak that he knows he's not allowed to have.

Gerry chuckles. "I have nightmares all the time, Jon. This would just be choosing which episode I get to watch. And honestly? Having you there will add a bit of novelty, if you ask me."

"Novel- are you mad?" Jon is shaking. Gerry wants to hold him close and whisper in his ear about the time he set a Vast avatar on fire. "Gerry, you don't want me in your dreams, trust me."

Gerry leans an elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand with a smile. "Maybe I do, you don't know that."

"Gerry!" The result is just as he expected, Jon goes red from neck to hairline, and Gerry gives him a wink. "I- that's-"

"Oh my God, he's flirting with you, you absolute moron," comes a new voice from somewhere next to their table. "No wonder you never noticed Martin wanted your sorry ass."

Gerry turns to face the newcomer, and his mind flares with alarms when his eyes land on the man's and the only thing he can see is fire. He was marked by the Stranger once, and the Eye as well; both marks have been burned away though, and they remain in his soul only as a reminder, with no real pull over him.

"Coffeeshop date and everything, statement included? You're getting lucky, Boss." The man speaks again, fixing Jon with an amused smirk, like this is a shared joke between them. Gerry can feel the temperature rise around them however, and see the barely concealed anger in his eyes.

It's not a look Gerry specially likes on a Desolation avatar looking at his Archivist.

Jon's face that was so flushed with color just a minute ago has gone pale, and Gerry tenses in preparation for a fight.

"... Tim?" Jon's voice is soft, almost... hopeful. After a moment though, his brow furrows, and his next words are grave and laced with a compulsion so heavy Gerry can taste the resentment as the words flow into his core. "Are you the real Timothy Stoker?"

The man's face contracts into a bitter mask as the compulsion washes over him. His body stiffens and his shoulders tense as he tries to resist the pull, but he fails, of course.

"Thought I'd hate it less now, but it's still the fucking worst." The man rolls his eyes, letting out a huff of steam. "I am. At least as much as you're, you know... you."

"The Desolation claimed you-" Jon doesn't really ask now. "At the Unknowing?"

"Big fan of my work, it looks like." Tim shrugs. "They buried my remains you know? The Desolation turned the whole grave into a cremation chamber for me to wake up. Climbed out just like that; I think I'm made of ash now."

And… yeah, that would explain the random fires they've been hearing about.

"So- so you're..." Jon starts, stops and clears his throat. "You're what, an avatar now? You're lik-"

"Boss, if you say 'like me' I'm going to punch you," the man interrupts him, and Jon's face tightens in pained recognition, like the threat of violence is much more credible as a confirmation of this man's identity than a compelled confession.

Maybe it is, and Gerry feels a burst of unreasonable irritation at the way Jon looks at his former assistant like he's both a ghost and a miracle, when Tim looks at Jon like he's a bug he'd like to step on.

"Tim... why are you here?" Jon asks. The compulsion is subtler this time, but still there.

"Honestly?" Tim asks, like he has any other choice. "I'm not sure. When I woke up, I wanted to see how the others were. Martin at least. Melanie, maybe. And..." he purses his lips, but doesn't manage to keep the rest of the words in. "I wanted to hurt you, if you were still alive."

Gerry stiffens in his chair, ready to hop up as soon as the man moves too abruptly. Across him, Jon looks... resigned. Like he'd known the answer before he even asked the question.

"Ah. Yes I- I can believe that." Jon sighs. "Are you going to?"

"He can certainly try," Gerry responds before Tim can even open his mouth, because he's getting sick of seeing Jon grovel for this guy's abuse.

"Gerry-"

"I'm not a hunter, but I've put out some fires before." Gerry speaks over Jon this time, his eyes fixed on Tim. He makes sure to lean back on his chair, and leave his chest open. Show this man that whatever fear he came looking for, he's not going to find here. "Molina died just fine with a scalpel."

Tim frowns, and much to Gerry's displeasure, looks much more confused than he does concerned. Something seems to click in his mind, because his eyes go the size of saucers, and he whips around to face Jon again.

"Gerard Keay?! The Gerard Keay?" he asks, and now it's Gerry who's confused. How does- "You're getting your freak on with the angry goth that shows up in every other statement? Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

Oh.

"I don't think either of us have any right to criticize anyone for not staying dead." Jon frowns. Gerry feels his mouth dry up; that's not the part he expected Jon to take issue with. "Now answer the question, please."

"Oh? Why don't you try your thing again? Don't really want to know?" Tim arches an eyebrow in challenge.

Jon rolls his eyes. "I know what you think of me, Tim. I'm not going to-"

"You literally just did it."

"Because I didn't know if you were... something else!" Jon snaps "I wanted to know if you meant harm to anyone in the Arch-"

"Oh, so you're the watchdog now?" Tim takes another step towards the table, and Gerry's napkin begins to smoke. "You keep everyone safe, you protect them?" He asks. His words are laced with mockery, striking like a cracking whip.

"I try-" Jon stutters angrily, only to be interrupted once more.

"Well isn't that great? You're definitely good at that, Boss, it's not like you've gotten what? Four people killed already?" Tim snarls. Gerry puts his napkin out with a couple pats, but he finds himself realizing he's not too worried. Desolation avatars know how to destroy. Tim could probably send the entire shop up in flames so hot only he would survive it, but he clearly doesn't want to. "They must be so reassured that you're taking care of them, Martin must be over the-"

"Shut up!" Jon's voice cuts cleanly through Tim's, and Tim's mouth clicks closed as static builds up around them. "I'm- I tried Tim. I did- I am doing my best to fix what I did wrong. I'll be the first to admit I- I made mistakes. And I know you won't forgive me, but- but I'm done. I- I'm done with begging you. What was it that you told Elias while I was gone? Either kill me, or-"

"Or fuck off" Tim nods. His eyebrows are arched, and when he speaks again his voice carries a hint of reluctant admiration. "Grew a pair while I was away, huh? Bit too late. If you ask me."

"Tim-"

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'm not... I should hurt you." Tim shrugs. It's stilted, too tense when he's trying to look casual. "But I don't want to. I think that part died too. The real me, you know?"

Jon's face goes from closed off to hopeful so quickly Gerry cringes a little. Whoever this man was -is-, he's... important, for Jon. Whether he likes it or not.

"So you-"

"I don't want anything." Tim rolls his eyes. "Well that's a lie. I want to destroy things. See the world burn and all, you know the drill. But I don't- Just stay away from me, Jon."

Jon flinches at his name, almost as if 'Boss' had been a quirky nickname and not some sort of mockery. Gerry guesses it could have been, and the thought makes him like it even less.

"Those are some bold words, when you were the one that came in here." Gerry arches an eyebrow, his hand balled over the smouldering napkin.

Tim rolls his eyes. "I figured I'd decide whether or not I wanted to melt his face off when I saw him," he says. "Wouldn't get too close if I were you. People who care for him don't end well."

He walks away without waiting for a response, and the air around them begins to cool down immediately. Gerry watches his back until the coffeeshop's door closes behind him.

"Do you want me to go after him? I can- Jon?" whatever he was going to add fades from his mind when he looks back.

If Jon had looked sad when apologizing for feeding, now he looks... miserable.

Gerry knows all too well he's not built for comforting people. He can protect them alright, but there's a lack of action inherent to comfort that always manages to make him feel like he's doing everything wrong, like he should be doing something to fix the problem instead of just being there.

Maybe it should've been Martin who brought Jon here, Gerry thinks bitterly, because he would fight the world for Jon, but what good is it if he cannot make things right?

"... Do you want to talk?" he asks. That's how this is done right? Communication, catharsis, comfort. He can't fuck up a simple formula.

Jon looks up at him, a hand buried in his tangled mess of hair. His eyes are still shiny, but less with the thrill of a potential statement, and more with something Gerry doesn't want to even think about.

"Tim was my friend," Jon says, and he seems to grow even smaller as he talks. "He moved to the Archives for me."

"Jon..."

"Guess this is the best outcome there could've been. At least he's free now."

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

Martin notices the melted doorknob as soon as he walks up to his flat door. It's not a great sign, probably, but also not something he's really in the mood for dealing with after the day he's had.

The Lonely kept coming and going at random today, and the complete numbness of it coupled with the bursts of intense emotion when he found his mind clear of it were exhausting.

"Whoever's in there-" Martin calls as he pushes the door open, careful to not touch the still warm metal "-I'm really tired. Please just say what you want, and go?"

The flat is completely dark, and Martin's eyes latch on to the two burning embers that he guesses belong to whoever came to kill-

"Dear, sweet Martin, telling the entities to behave. Things really have changed, haven't they?"

The voice crashes against him like a wave, terrifyingly familiar and entirely too disorienting; Martin leans heavily on the table by the door, knocking his mother's picture back. The warmth and the slight hint of humor contrasting with the raw bite of the words.

"T- Tim?" Martin gathers himself enough to flick the lights on, and sure enough there's Timothy Stoker, leaning by the door to his kitchen.

He looks exactly like he did the day he left for the wax museum with Jon; the scars from the worms littering his skin, the artfully messed hair, the confident curve to his lips. The only difference is his eyes, two burning coals in the middle of the much beloved face.

"Surprise," Tim says, elongating the word so much Martin can see the sarcasm bleeding off of it. "Turns out my old flat is not mine anymore, who knew? I'm going to need a place to crash for a while."

"I don't- how are you here?" Martin asks, still holding to the table for the stability that seems to have fled his world so suddenly. "You were- we buried you! Is- is it really you?"

"I had my doubts." Tim shrugs, making no move to get closer. "But I said I was when Jon asked, and it's not like I can lie to him, so I-"

"Jo- you went looking for Jon?" Martin's heart skips a beat. That can't be a good thing, that- "did you hurt him?"

Tim laughs at that, long and loud and bitter in rivulets of steam that raise from his parted lips.

"I should've known. No, Martin, I didn't hurt Jon." He says, his voice curling venomously at the name. "I wanted to. I really did. But when I was there, I-" his mouth moves around half formed words that he can't seem to give voice to, and his eyes flare up bright enough that Martin sees the glow even with the lights on.

"You couldn't." Martin blurts out when the revelation strikes, and Tim flinches. "I- that's- not that that's a bad thing, but Tim-"

"He compelled me, you know?" Tim spits out. "At the Unknowing. I was going to give her the detonator, but then he asked me to look, and I was so angry at him that everything was clear for a moment. And I killed us."

Martin takes a small, careful step towards him.

"You saved the world, Tim."

And Tim looks up at him, with a humorless smile.

"All I wanted at that moment was to kill him, her, and me, Martin. And I couldn't even do that." He pushes sharply off the wall then, and Martin restrains the urge to move back. "And I had him there today, he was practically begging me to do it, and I couldn't- why couldn't I kill him, Martin?"

He looks... devastated. Like the only certainty he had was just ripped from him and shattered before his eyes, and Martin has a moment to consider just how sad it is, that Tim depended so much on his hatred for the man whose friendship he treasured once. This new world has made strangers out of them all, empty husks that feed on resentment while yearning for a past that won't come back.

Martin takes a step forward, and then another, and another, and he only remembers Jack Barnabas' statement by the time his arms are closing around Tim, but it doesn't do much to stop him. Tim is in need of a friend, and Martin -or whatever is left of him that Gerry has managed to wrestle out of the Lonely- is the only one left.

Tim's arms come to wrap around Martin's back roughly, almost violently- Martin guesses that's now just as much a part of Tim as anything else.

"You melted my doorknob," Martin mumbles into the hug.

Tim snorts, and just for a moment, everything is right.

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

"Ouch," Basira grunts, and Daisy flinches back like she's been burned.

"Did I bite you? I'm sorry, I-"

"No, stop." Basirs lays a hand down on her head to still her, and Daisy looks up. Basira's rubbing at her with a pained frown on her face. "Something just fell on me."

Daisy scowls, but a look around the room reveals they're alone. "What-" she catches the corner of something black and shiny poking from between the sheets. "Is that a tape recorder?"

Basira groans, and Daisy pats her thigh with a sympathetic smile.

"I'll ask Melanie to talk to Helen about timing."

#jongerrymartin #illicio #vit writes

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timelordthirteen · 5 years ago

Text

In All Things 18/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: After the incident with Milton, Gold makes peace with Belle.

Notes: Look at me with two updates! :D I hope after the chaos of the last chapter that you all find this one a bit cheerier.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

Gold watched as Milton climbed into the back of the carriage.

He had a noticeable limp that he was doing his best to mask, but Gold had experience with such things and the awkward movement of the man’s leg was a dead giveaway. The box lurched forward, and Milton wobbled in his seat, which made Gold smile. He hoped the road was riddled with ruts and holes the entire way to the palace. A bruised backside and stiff limbs was the least the bastard deserved for the way he spoke about Belle, and for the blatant disrespect he’d shown to Maurice. There was no doubt some associating between Milton and the King or he would have never dared make such comments. Gold would have Jefferson put a man on it as soon as they returned to Thornhill.

Sighing, he turned away from the window and eyed the paper on the desk. It was a standard land contract awaiting the relevant signatures, but just looking at it gave him a sick feeling. Later, Maurice would sign one side and he would sign the other, and Avonlea would become part of his entitlement, effectively transferring all debts, leases, and rights, and blocking King George from whatever he’d been plotting to do with it. Normally, he would feel a rather smug satisfaction at that, but instead there was only a hollow guilt that his last minute plan had upset Belle. He didn’t blame her, and if he had been in her place he would have been angry as well, but she had left before he could fully explain his proposition.

He had hoped to do that sooner rather than later, but when he’d gone to her quarters after lunch she was nowhere to be found. A maid informed him that she had taken Baeden for a tour of the grounds, which pleased him, but also delayed the inevitable. He was thankful that she hadn’t been so out of sorts that she was keeping to her room, but he knew that the longer he waited to explain himself, the worse the outcome might be.

He smiled ruefully and slipped the contract into his ledger book, and tucked it under his arm before taking up his cane. The first step around the desk had him sucking in a breath as the stabbing pain in his leg traveled up from his ankle and knee, and radiated across his hip. Attacking Milton had been foolish for multiple reasons, including that it had exacerbated his condition. His knuckles went white as he gripped the handle of his cane tight, breathing slowly through the sensation until it subsided.

Once it had, he took a cautious step and was met with only the usual ache and stiffness. Letting out another heavy sigh, he left to find Maurice.

Gold dropped his ledger on the desk with a muted thud that seemed much louder than it sounded.

It was done. Avonlea was his, officially, and he hated himself for it. The rest of the process would take some time, and would need the King’s approval, but the first step was done. Getting that royal approval would likely be difficult, particularly if Milton got his story to the King before Gold, but ultimately, George wouldn’t dare withhold it, not if he wanted to remain in power.

Gold knew that continually relying on his knowledge of the King’s secrets to get his way was dangerous, but it was effective. At least it was as long as he was alive. Perhaps there was something he could do about that as well, something to further protect Belle and Bae. He put the thought aside, and checked the time, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to talk to Belle, before deciding that it was best not to wait any longer to face her wrath.

Bae came out of Belle’s room, and Gold stopped in the middle of the corridor, frowning. His son came towards him, shaking his head.

“Whatever you did, Papa,” Bae said, “you should tell Belle you’re sorry.”

Gold smiled. “Well, that’s what I’m here to do.”

Bae nodded. “Good.”

“I heard Belle gave you a tour of Avonlea.”

The boy’s face lit up in a wide grin. “Yes, it was fun! She showed me the garden and the stables, and introduced me to her horse, Philippe.”

His eyes widened. “Her horse?”

Bae nodded again. “He’s big and kinda slow, but she likes him very much. And then we rode out to the cliffs so I could see the ocean!”

Gold nearly fell over. “You - rode? To the cliffs? With - with Belle?”

The boy gave him a funny look, as if he had questioned the sky being blue. “Yeah. Why? Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head and patted the boy on the shoulder. “No, no of course not. I’m just - surprised.”

Bae’s head tilted to the side. “Why?”

Belle having a horse was not some great shock, every noble did, and most of them could at least stay on one without falling off. He didn’t understand why the image of Belle riding out on a horse with his son, to the southern cliffs at the edge of Avonlea that looked out over the water, was such a strange thing. He supposed it was because he had never seen her riding, and that because of that he was unsure of her skill on horseback, though he knew she wouldn’t put Bae at risk.

He frowned again. “I - I don’t know, actually.”

Truly he didn’t, and the more he thought about it, the more the notion delighted him. Even if she was cross with him, it clearly didn’t interfere with her relationship with Baeden. Ultimately, that was what mattered.

“Papa, are you coming down for supper?”

Bae blinked up at him, and he nodded. “Yes, uh, I just need to speak to Belle first. We’ll - we’ll come down together, all right?”

The boy bounded off down the hall, and Gold watched with a faint smile before turning to the matter at hand. He hoped that after he said what he needed to say, that his reply to Bae would be the truth.

Belle was pacing back and forth from the sofa to the window when a knock sounded.

She paused and stared at the door, knowing Gold was on the other side. She had expected him to come to her earlier, which was why she went to find Bae after she’d calmed down. Facing him so soon after the confrontation in the study felt like too much, and she needed to think through what she might say. Walking the grounds with Bae and telling him about her home had been the perfect distraction, but when they rode out to the coast, with the snowing shining around them, it had hit her harder than expected.

The cliffs had always been a sanctuary for her, a place to retreat to when she needed to be away from the prying eyes of servants and her parents, and, later, a place to be alone with thoughts of her mother. She had always loved the ocean, the sound of the waves and the beauty of the sunset reflected across it, but it was the harshness that spoke to her the most. The water was so dark, especially in the evening or in the short days of winter, and there was no tangible horizon, no soft edges, only a vast and endless void. The ocean didn’t care about anyone.

Poets might romanticize it, but it was cruelest of all creations, holding a seething, incomprehensible mass of life in its depths, life that it seemed to actively try to extinguish sometimes. There was no mistress like the sea. She’d heard a naval officer say that once, with a tone that spoke of things which could not be described, of places she couldn’t even dream of seeing. It chilled her and soothed her all at once. There would always remain one thing in the world which men could not claim or tame, and she longed for that kind of freedom.

Sighing, she smoothed her hands over her skirt and walked to the door, holding her breath as she pulled it open.

“Belle.”

The way he said her name, with that soft sense of surprise, made her want to smile, but she tamped it down and pressed her lips together, acknowledging him with a sharp nod.

“Cameron.”

Gold winced at her cool tone. “May I come in?”

She stepped back and held the door open, motioning with her hand for him to enter. He moved stiffly, leaning on his cane more obviously than she’d ever seen, and she assumed that his antics with Milton had caused him some discomfort. She wanted to be pleased by that, but she wasn’t. Angry as she was, she still didn’t want him to suffer.

“Can we sit?” he asked, gesturing to the sofa.

She shrugged and came to stand at the opposite end. “You may.”

His shoulders dropped and he seemed to lean forward, bearing his weight on his cane in front of him. “I’ll stand if you are.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at his stubbornness, but she supposed she was no better at the moment. “Fine. Say what you came to say.”

“Belle, please -”

“Please what?” she snapped, her hands going to her hips. “Please excuse me whilst I lie and swindle your family home right out from under you?”

Her words were harsh, but he had resigned himself to deserving them. “That’s not what this is.”

She shook her head. “Well, then I must be stupid, because that’s what it looks like from where I stand.”

“You are far from stupid,” he said, sighing and twisting his cane against the floor.

“Is it done?” She crossed her arms, holding her elbows with her hands.

“Yes.”

His reply was quiet, and she swallowed. Her face felt hot and her head started to throb as she fought back her tears. That was it then. It was all done, without a word from her, without any discussion or explanation.

“I thought it was best to get things in order immediately,” he explained, “before Milton has a chance to tell the King whatever it is he’s going to tell him.”

Belle nodded. “I see.”

She watched as he shifted his weight and squeezed the handle of his cane. He was clearly hurting, and she hated herself for making him continue standing there just because of her own hurt pride. While there were things they hadn’t talked about yet, truths that were deeply held, he had given her no reason to distrust him or his intentions.

Gold huffed and turned away from her for a moment, gritting his teeth as the sharp pain crept back into his leg. “It’s not - I didn’t mean it the way you’re thinking.”

“Then tell me!” she exclaimed, letting out a heavy sigh a moment later and touched a hand to her forehead where a vague throb had started. “Be honest with me. Don’t - don’t tell me you’re going to save my family home, and then snatch it away.”

He frowned at her. “So you would rather I let the King do the same instead?”

“No! I - I don’t -” Belle exhaled and

He looked up, watching as she moved around the end of the sofa and then back against the tufted cushions. She reached out and patted the space beside her. “Please?”

He gave her a small, grateful smile, and barely suppressed a groan as he sat. His hand rubbed at his upper thigh, pressing into the muscle until the twitching and throbbing abated enough that he could ignore it.

“Are you in pain?”

Her hand covered his, and he nearly jerked away from her touch in surprise. “Only a little.”

The look she gave him conveyed her disbelief, but she didn’t press the issue, and for a long moment they stayed like that, near each other, with her hand on his. He didn’t turn his hand over to hold hers, though he wanted to he didn’t feel he had the right to, not now, not until they had sorted things between them, but her palm was warm and soothing. It was enough for now.

“You scared me,” she said finally, exhaling and pulling her hand back to her own lap. “I was already angry at Milton, and at my father, and when you said -” She took a breath, blowing it out between her lips as she shook her head again. “I’d never seen you like that before, so angry and - and violent.”

“I know,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the moonstone ring on his left hand. “Please believe me that had he not said those - those things - about you -”

“Don’t,” Belle interrupted, twisting to look at him. “Not for my sake, never for my sake, not that. All right? I will not have that on my conscience.”

Gold nodded in understanding, though he couldn't promise that his reaction wouldn’t be the same should anyone else decide to harm her. He had very recently become aware that, where Belle was concerned, there were lengths he was willing to go to in order to protect her, and he wasn't entirely certain that it had only to do with her commitment to Bae.

She shifted closer and frowned. “He didn’t hurt me, all right? What he said -”

Her mouth felt dry as the words replayed in her head, the implications, the shame. It didn’t matter what she had or hadn’t done with her husband, which was nothing at all, but to have any of it made public and connected with what happened between her and Gaston was a step too far.

Gold swallowed. “Physically, perhaps not, but words can damage just as easily as my cane.”

He lifted the aforementioned object and let it drop, the end thudding softly on the rug by his boot. She knew what he meant, but it was still different in her mind. Her faults and secrets were her own, just as his were. Whatever Milton knew, or assumed, it wasn’t worth the effort or energy of beating him senseless, however much he might deserve punishment.

“What will do with it?” she asked, tentatively. “With my - with Avonlea.”

She kept wanting to call it her home, but that wasn’t true anymore.

“Give it to you.” He shrugged and gave her a quick, sideways glance. “If you want it.”

Belle blinked and leaned back a bit as she stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “Wha - how - um... to me? You’re giving to me?”

“Is that a yes?”

His mouth curved slightly, clearly amused by her confusion, and she frowned. “Why?”

“You don’t seriously believe I want it, right?” She looked immediately affronted at the question, and he sighed. “That’s - that’s not what I mean. I mean, I don’t - I don’t want to own it, I don’t want to take it away from your family.”

“Then why - why -” She shook her head, tilting it as she looked at him. “Why do this at all? Why have the papers signed already?”

“So the King wouldn’t beat me to it.” He gave her a small smile. “If he orchestrated any of this, used Milton to push your father into more debt... I didn’t want to risk it, and I knew the law was on my side. My claim would have the highest standing.”

He shrugged, and twisted the cane in his hands, sliding them back and forth and making it spin against his palms until Belle’s hand came to rest on the handle, making him stop.

“You think he would do that? Send Milton to - what? - to give my father ill financial advice?” She huffed, her lips pursing as she pulled her hand away from his cane. “That seems so - convoluted - so much effort for something that was bound to happen on its own.”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted. “You think?”

She matched his expression, and then let her gaze drift to the fireplace. “I love my father, but I know he’s not very good at running an estate, especially not one so large. My mother, she - she was the one who kept him straight, who knew how everything needed to be done. She understood how to estimate the crop yields, how the land leases were managed, all of it.”

The smile she gave him was sad, and he didn’t miss the way her lips wavered as she spoke.

“And she passed that knowledge on to you, didn’t she?” he asked, quietly.

Belle’s gaze met Gold’s. “Some of it, yes.”

He smiled fully then and reached for her hand. “Then it shall be yours.”

“You - you can do that?” She glanced down at his fingers as they curled over hers, holding them gently.

“Yes,” he replied simply, pleased when her hand turned over to hold his. In that moment he felt a sense of forgiveness, and the relief it brought was stronger than he’d expected, like an unwinding of something in the center of his chest.

She licked her lips and looked up at him. “How?”

“Your father has signed Avonlea over to me, so as of a half hour ago, I am the legal Lord of this estate.” He took a breath, her gaze inscrutable and making him shift in his seat. “As such, I have the legal right to name a Steward, which can be you if you like. And when I - when I die -”

He paused to clear his throat, pushing past the lump that had formed once he acknowledged what must inevitably happen for Belle to retain her family home. She squeezed his hand, and the look on her face was strangely stricken.

“When I die, I may bequeath these lands unto any of my heirs. Including my wife,” he continued. “But until then, you may help me make all the decisions where Avonlea is concerned.”

Gold returned the pressure on her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. She could scarcely believe his words. There were only two women who were positioned as the legal executives of their own estates, left to them by their late husbands, who had passed without children. Lady Ghorm, a severe and eccentric woman Belle couldn’t stand the sight of, and Countess De Vil, of whom there were untold rumors stories of the wild, unhinged parties she was fond of throwing every season.

She managed a nod. “You’d just - give it to me? Like that? You wouldn’t keep it for Bae?”

He nodded. “Bae won’t need it. He’ll have Thornhill and other assets, and I think - I know - he would want you to have it.”

Her chest rose and fell slowly as she took a steadying breath. She would have Avonlea, her mother’s wish would come true, and in the meantime he said she could be the Steward if she liked, and make all the decisions. She could run her own estate, even without it being fully hers, something she’d been trying to do for her father for years. It felt so overwhelming that even contemplating it was threatening to give her a throbbing headache.

She twisted on the cushion to face Gold, her lips pressed together as she tried to summon the right words to express what she was feeling. In the end she settled for something easier, and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

Gold sputtered and let out a soft cry of surprise as Belle practically leapt at him and gripped him in a fierce embrace. She was warm and soft, and her skirts were covering his lap as she shifted closer, pressing her knees to his thigh. He felt her fingers brush his hair where it lay over the back of his collar, sending a tingle down his spine, and breathed in the scent of her perfume. Her actions were so intimate and startling that by the time he made his own arms move enough to return it, she was already withdrawing.

She leaned back, keeping her hands on his shoulders which kept her face near his, and smiled widely. He looked utterly shocked, and she bit her lip as the realization of what she’d done sunk in. Abruptly, she pulled her hands away and she shifted back on the sofa, putting some space between them.

“Sorry, I -” She shook her head again.

“No, don’t be,” he said quickly, fighting the urge to close the short distance she’d reestablished between them. He was almost as surprised at how much he missed her proximity as he was at the embrace itself.

Belle wiped at her eyes which had begun to feel watery, and blew out a breath. “Sorry, um, we should - we should speak to my father, yes?”

Gold nodded. “Tomorrow, after breakfast, the three of us will review all the ledgers and papers. We’ll get a full accounting of everything, and we can decide where to go from there.”

“Good,” she replied, giving him another small smile. “Good.”

“Now,” said Gold, using his cane to push himself to his feet. “I promised Bae before I came here that I would apologize to you, and that we would join him for dinner. So to that end, I am very sorry for upsetting you, my Lady, and I most humbly beg your forgiveness.”

He offered her his arm and a cheeky grin, and she smiled as she stood, laying her hand over his forearm. “Apology accepted.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #in all things #my rumbelle fic #fic

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purpleblackmask · 5 years ago

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GO theory: Crowley suffers from depression

Making clear that I'm not a psychologist and that all of this is just a theory of mine and/or a character's study from a wanna-be-actress' pov, I'd like to expose this thought that followed me since it first came to my mind.

Let's begin from the start.

Crowley is a demon. But actually he wasn't born this way. Like every other demon, he was something else. Something considered better, pure, flawless.

He was an angel.

Most of all, he was one of God's children. If we consider the Raphael!Theory, which I support, he was one of God's most beloved children. An archangel.

Now let's consider what angels are supposed to be. Soldiers. Or, in a tenderest way, the perfect sons who obey their father's will. No matter what.

Even when He (or She, in this case) creates mankind.

"And when He again brings the firstborn into the world, He says, 'And let all the angels of God worship Him,'" (Hebrews 1:6).

But then Lucifer rebelled and we all know how the story goes on.

Crowley? He fell too.

In the show he actually refers to his fall four times.

But not in a way a demon would do.

If we take John Milton's Paradise Lost, what made Lucifer leave Paradise forever was his pride. Now he is content with his horrors, for he is a king, a ruler. He can do what he wants. He achieves freedom. And all the other demons are free to persevere in their evilness. This gives them a sort of satisfaction.

But when Crowley refers to his fall, he is not satisfied at all.

On the contrary, you can perceive a deep sense of regret.

"I never meant to fall. I just hung around the wrong people."

In.

"I didn't really fall. I just, you know... sauntered vaguely downwards."

Every.

"I only ever asked questions. That's all it took to be a demon in the old days."

Word.

"I never asked to be a demon. I was just minding my own business one day and then... oh, lookie here, it's Lucifer and the guys."

Are you going to tell me that is absolutely normal to refer to something four times in a TV show that's only got 6 episodes? I mean, It's almost one per episode, come on.

These aren't the words of a demon.

These are the words of someone who belonged to somewhere and was forced to leave because different.

Because he asked questions.

Because he was a disappointment.

He is a son whose father decided he was just not good enough, not perfect enough, simply not enough, and so threw him away.

He never wanted to cause a war, or to be greater than God or anything like that. He just wanted to be a good son.

A good angel.

But failed.

That's how Crowley feels every second of his eternity.

A failure.

First great cause of a depressed temperament.

And this leads us to the plants.

I personally think that the plants bits are seriously phenomenal. They tell us so much about Crowley just in a few words.

If we analyse him as a human, Crowley is a man with a trauma, the one we underlined before. And, as in the majority of probabilities, it is common to reproduce a trauma on something or someone else.

"What he did was put the fear of God into them. More precisely, the fear of Crowley. In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the other plants. "Say goodbye to your friend" he'd say to them. "He just couldn't cut it...""

The plants scene is terrific in this way. He threatens the plants to grow better, to grow perfect, or they will die.

I think the echoes in his head whispering "Be perfect or you'll fall" murmured by his fellow angels while he was still in Heaven still haunts him when he takes "care" of his plants.

Is he finally satisfied?

No.

He's just being cruel because something cruel happened to him. But he can't erase the past. He can't change what he is.

And he knows that.

That's the worst part.

"I won't be forgiven. Not ever. That's part of a demon job's description. Unforgivable. That's what I am."

He permanentely struggles between a constant denial and the acknowledge of his self being.

He is not what he wanted to be.

That's why he decided to go away.

He couldn't bare the dark, gloomy, crowded halls of hell. Something that reminded him of his condition. That's why he went up on earth. Because it's the closest thing to heaven he could still approach to.

And there he found Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, who is not like other angels.

Who is not afraid to talk to a demon.

Who is kind and soft and naive.

Who gives Crowley a kind of hope.

Maybe Crowley was convinced that he would have spent all his eternity alone (because, sooner or later, he would have realised that he couldn't fit anywhere, not in hell, not in heaven, not on earth), and sincerely, I think he would have committed suicide very soon.

But Aziraphale gives him a reason to live.

He gives him a friend.

He gives him someone who, deep down, doesn't quite fit well on his side, too.

And that is enough for Crowley.

Enough to stay alive.

And so he starts to find himself little things to distract himself, temptations, demonic works to keep himself occupied. He even starts to have fun with them.

But then something happens.

Aziraphale risking his own life.

For a silly reason of course, but then Crowley starts to think.

Ok, I saved him because I was around, but what if he's risking his life again and I'm not there to save him? What if I'm not able to see him again?

Or what if this happens to me? What if my side finds out I saved an angel? What would they do to him? Or to me?

And that's why he decides to have assurances.

That's when his depression strikes back.

He asks Aziraphale for holy water.

Because after all they did together, after all the relief he had felt all those decades on earth, he can't bare to watch it shatter away.

He can't allow it.

And if that means ending his own life, so be it.

I will not pause on Aziraphale's fear of Crowley committing suicide for it is a parenthetis of the analysing of Aziraphale that would add more pain to this post, forgive me please.

Once achieved the pill of suicide, Crowley comes back to his daily routine, which involves, by the way, hours of sleeping.

This is another sign of depression.

As a demon, he shouldn't need to rest at all. But if we return to analyse Crowley as a human, this is perfectly normal.

The lack of energy and anxiety cause the body to being forced to bed. Crowley sleeping for a whole century because "he hated it" could be equal to a person sleeping all day to avoid the problems of life.

Furthermore, the end is nigh.

The Apocalypse is bringing Crowley's (and Aziraphale's) biggest fear. The disappearing of that life they built together on earth. The distruction of their peace.

And who is the one who first proposes to stop it?

Crowley.

And he fights in every way to avoid Armageddon. Even if he doesn't manage, he's still with his angel. They could go away together. Alfa Centauri or wherever they want. But together.

Because he can't let it happen. He can't leave it all and fight on his side which has never been and never will be his side. He can't go back down there. He can't let his depression overthrow him again.

But suddenly "together" becomes "alone".

Suddenly, there's no more a demon and an angel. There's just one demon, who is terrified of what happens next, of what he's going to go through on his own, who is living the nightmare of a lifetime.

He tries to reach Aziraphale one more time, but fails.

The nightmare is much closer.

It swallows him definetely in a burning bookshop.

This is it.

This is where all his world breaks apart in front of his eyes.

He lost.

He lost the chance of a new start. He lost hope. He lost his best friend.

He lost his fight against depression.

Don't try to convince me that if he hadn't already shed it on Ligur, he wouldn't have used holy water in this exact moment to end his own life.

Because nothing had sense now.

But here he is. Without Aziraphale. Without holy water. Trapped in a glass full of alcohol reminding himself for the fourth time that he never wanted to be a demon.

When Aziraphale comes back it all changes.

Life comes back to his body.

It's not over.

And then they manage. They stop the Apocalypse. They stop each other's death. They're finally free.

Crowley and Aziraphale are alone. On their own side.

But that is enough for Crowley.

Depression can wait.

NOT MY GIFS.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #go #go theory #go headcanons #depression #this took much more than i thought #i'm sorry for all the pain #my post

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daggerzine · 4 years ago

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Peter Milton Walsh of The Apartments offers a pocketful of sunshine...

Peter Milton Walsh started his, band, The Apartments, in Brisbane, Australia in 1978. He didn’t release his debut LP until 1985 (The Evening Visits...and Stays For Years). I didn’t hear the band until 1995 when Restless Records here in the U.S. released the terrific A Life Full of Farewells (in between was 1992′s Drift). The releases have been sporadic throughout the years (and there were several years in between when Walsh did create any music at all) but each one glistens with a special kind of magic that only Walsh seems to possess. Though 2020 has been a difficult year, to say the least, one of the bright spots was the release of a new Apartments’ record In And Out of The Light released on Talitres Records (through Riley Records). The record is classic Walsh, spare, gorgeous songs written as the sun goes down (or comes up) with love or loss as its main theme (in most cases). I sent Mr. Walsh some questions and he was more than happy to open up about the record and what’s next.

Peter Milton Walsh photo by Belddyn Butcher, 2020

When did the songs start coming together for the new record?

The plan was to record the album in a couple of weeks in September 2019 in Tours, which is about 2 hours South of Paris. Antoine has a studio there. Natasha would come down from Lille, Nick from London. Then I was moving over to Berlin to mix them with Victor Van Vugt, who now has a studio there. Vic produced the evening visits… back in 1985. (He went on to work with P J Harvey, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds etc.)

But the band wanted to hear the songs before September. So I started by making a couple of demos with a guy who lives just around the corner, Darren Cross. A great musician.

Butterfly Kiss was one, Pocketful too. I sent Butterfly Kiss off to Natasha when she was in Lisbon, and she wrote back to say she’d listened to it over and over, ten times or more, walking at night by the Tagus river and that she fell in love with the song in Lisbon. I thought that was a good sign!

I found that those two songs came alive in the process of recording the demos, so then I thought I don’t want to do any more demos, I just want to make an album. Now! The process made me impatient to begin the album.

So rather than wait till September, I found a place near where I live in Sydney, and approached the producer, Tim Kevin, telling him I had a couple of songs to start the album off with but that I wanted to try to write the rest of the songs as we went along.

The earliest we could start was July, early days of Winter here, as Tim’s studio was very heavily booked.

I have been writing songs since I was 15, and I’ve never really gotten any better at it. I still don’t know what’s happening exactly. But I thought, this will make the whole set of songs very fresh, very in the moment.

This album will not be me trying to recapture the past, it will be me in the present moment, in the Winter of 2019.

I had recorded the title track of No Song, No Spell, No Madrigal like that. All we had for NSNSNM was my piano part, Eliot’s bass and Gene’s drums. The rest of it I made up in the studio. Wayne kept asking me when we would finish the vocal part, because we were running out of time, and even though I didn’t have any idea what the finished lyrics would be I kept telling him it was OK—the song would start in the rain and end in the rain and across the course of the song the guy would be changed.

I thought of the lyric like a voiceover in film noir—the guy reaches the end of the song and just knows he must change his life.

And that’s how we went with In and Out of the Light. Each time I’d finish a new song, I’d think—I’ll never write another song again. But some time would pass—we were recording very sporadically—and something else would come up. We went on like that until we hit the magic number 8, and I thought—OK, that’s 8 songs that sit together well, don’t tempt fate. Stop now, start mixing the album.

What was the recording process like, I’d read other musicians recorded parts in their own country?

I would record some guitar or piano, a vocal, arrange the song, then upload it. Natasha, Antoine and Nick would then record things they thought might work and upload them for us, then Tim and I would select what we wanted and add it. It was very easy. In many ways, we were recording in the perfect way for the COVID era—though the COVID era had not yet begun. Sometimes I’d record 1 day in a week, sometimes more. Very short days. Usually home by six. All very unusual, but that was the situation because Tim was so heavily booked.

The new record

Had you worked with produce Tim Kevin before? What did he bring to the sessions?

No. He’s got a fabulous ear, is a sensational guitar player and singer and has an epic, really impressive concentration span. Also, he was very open to the way I wanted to work—we’d had that discussion before committing to recording. So I could turn up, play him something, and ask if he saw some promise in what I had. And mostly he did.

Did you have any hesitation about releasing a record in 2020?

We finished mixing the day before lockdown hit Sydney, so that part of the timing was beautiful. Playing music, being in a band, touring, releasing records—this is a casino life anyway. If you can’t accept that things often don’t go to plan, you’re in the wrong line of work.

We had a tour planned for September/October 2020, when the album was due for release. That had to be cancelled. We then had a bigger tour planned for February/March 2021—clubs, festivals, some big shows—and had to cancel that as well. I have no idea when we’ll be able to leave Australia—yesterday, the Australian Tourism minister announced that rising COVID cases in Europe and the US mean that Australians won’t be able to visit either of these places next year, unless a vaccine was invented.

Where did the title come from, In and Out of the Light?

Possibly two things occurred to me. Firstly, that on the days that I was recording, I would disappear from the high, bright Winter daylight into the lamplit darkness of the studio and that this too—moving in and out of the light—is the pattern of existence. We are constantly changing, and the conditions of our lives do as well. No feeling is final.

For those of us who wish there were more Apartments records, why do the records come out so infrequently?

The Apartments once had a good 4 year run—drift, A Life Full Of Farewells, fête foraine and apart then, for personal reasons, I turned away from the music world, and any kind of public life that goes with it.

Will you be playing any shows (I know here some folks are beginning to do occasional backyard shows and others in other unique venues…drive in theatres, etc).

That’s a great idea.

His previous record from 2015

Who are some of your favorite current musicians/bands?

If a song has fingerpicking, a certain kind of smoke or melancholy in the voice and maybe a major 7th, I’m a fool for it and always have been, always will be. With new music, I can be as fickle as the next person and I’m not a particularly organized person—so there’s no purpose or method in how songs get to me.

It’s random, they seem to just float in. But here are some of the tracks that have seduced me recently, from my Soundcloud/Bandcamp/Spotify lists. I’m drawn to singles; if I love the album as well, that’s really magic.

Lonny—Incandescente

https://soundcloud.com/lonny-sc/incandescente

Mason Lindahl—Outside Laughing

https://tompkinssquare.bandcamp.com/track/outside-laughing

Arlo Parks—Black Dog

https://open.spotify.com/track/1NGPZKzplieiPc5g6lAJ49?si=KYK_7EZLRkCK5PUjW0DeUA

Ruby Haunt—Avalon

https://open.spotify.com/track/5rwKSB1WtNDWOBmwxZMWrg?si=uNxxyWjGRRuvYZrk5500oA

Endless Winter—Angus Roy

https://angusroy.bandcamp.com/track/endless-winter

Harkin—Decade

https://handmirror.bandcamp.com/track/decade

www.theapartments-music.com

www.talitres.com

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antiquechampagne · 5 years ago

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Antique Champagne - CH 36 - Vale

The three of them made their way stealthfully through the city and Commonwealth wastes, avoiding as many obstacles as possible on their way to Milton General. Payne was thankful for the lack of the normal banter between everyone as they focused all their energy on the task at hand. She found herself reflexively stretching her shoulders, trying without success to release the tension that had built up in them as they neared their target. The path was a bit dicey as they quietly snuck behind a super mutant filled department store, but eventually they found themselves standing inside the large dark lobby. Flesh-stripped skeletons on dusty benches still waited to be called back.

Quietly, Nate pulled out the Shroud’s signature long dark trench coat, hat and silver scarf. Nate’s oddly stoic voice answered Hancock’s chuckling smirk.

“Sinjin expects The Shroud. Who am I to disappoint him?”

Payne hardly noticed them as she stood in the eerily silent lobby. Her could almost hear her heartbeat in her ears. Even though the room was open and airy by design, Payne felt as if every wall inched closer to her with every breath. The unerring feeling that she should not be here pressed in on her. Suddenly, she felt a drip of sweat roll down her forehead, her helmet was growing stuffy and suffocating. She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“You ready for this?” Hancock’s eyes were steadily looking at her, but the small twist in the corner of his mouth told her he was concerned.

Rapidly, Payne pulled her offending helmet off. “Kent needs us. I’m fine.” She fastened it to her belt. “Guess I won’t be need this in here,” and readied her side arm.

Nate took the lead and headed into the dark inner hospital. They started to systematically clear the dank hallways and dilapidated rooms, disarming traps and small groups of raiders loyal to Sinjin.

It all became a blur to Payne. She focused only on the weapons pointed at her or her companions. By the time they fought their way to the second floor, she had stopped responding to her friends. Every shred of her concentration was centered only on keeping them alive, and not on the decaying hospital around them.

The trio walked slowly down a long red hallway, turning into a room that had obviously been another waiting area. There were rows of scattered chairs, crumbling magazines stacked on low tables and a reception desk complete with decayed flowers in an ornamental vase. A skeleton still sat in a rusted wheelchair tucked in a corner, the patients dress nothing but rags after the centuries interred here.

Payne froze when she looked above the receptionist’s desk at the faded sign behind.

DEPARTMENT OF ONCOLOGY

The scent of roses hit Payne full in the face, overwhelming her. ROSES. A common scent used in prewar perfume. Her grandmother’s perfume. She looked down at the vase, the wilted brown twigs twisting upwards, somehow growing into blood red flowers. Polite chatter drifted to her ears, the polite chit chat of the long dead patients passing the time until their name was called. Adrenaline flooded through her veins. Sweat poured from her. None of this made sense.

Her breath got caught in her throat. “No,” was all she could manage.

Hancock turned from inspecting the Nuka-Cola machine in the corner. “Payne?”

Hearing her name, Payne turned. Flustered, she looked around. She couldn’t tell if she heard Hancock or an orderly calling her. It couldn’t possibly be her turn to go. She wouldn’t go. Not again.

The blare of warning klaxon was the last straw. She lost hold of whatever last thread of stability she had be desperately clinging to.

“NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!” she shrieked before dropping her gun and bolting back down the hallway, nothing but a blur.

Hancock let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, shit.”

He had noticed Payne freeze up. Turning to see if she was alright, his foot caught on leg of a wooden table, dragging it loudly across the tile. The sound sent her bolting out of the room.

Nate stood next to him, clearly baffled at Payne’s sudden departure. “What was that all about?” he asked.

Hancock shook his head. There was a bit too much to go into with Nate right now, even if it was his story to tell, which it wasn’t. “Payne has issues with doctors and stuff.” He motioned to the waiting room before stooping down and picking up her weapon. He supposed he should be glad Payne didn’t accidentally open fire on either of them. “Give me a moment, will ya?”

Hancock backtracked through the halls of hospital. He was starting to get worried Payne had run all the way back outside when he noticed a small custodial closet door cocked at an odd angle. He approached slowly but made sure to make enough noise with his steps that Payne would hear him.

He rapped cautiously on the metal door. “You in there, Payne?” He didn’t expect an answer. “It’s just me out here. Mind if I come in?” Still nothing. He slowly opened the door, ready to retreat quickly if he spooked her.

Tucked in the far corner, Payne sat, balled up as small as she could be, rocking slightly. She hands buried in her hair, her face covered by her trembling arms. He wasn’t sure if she even looked up as he slowly sat down across from her. The closet was so small that he had to take pains to not accidentally make contact with her boots for fear of startling her in the state she was in.

“Payne?”

She did not react. She seemed frozen in whatever nightmare her mind created around her, trapping her. Hancock tried a different tactic.

“Dahlia?” Her chin lifted slightly, but still hid her face. “I’m right here.” He moved his hand along the floor, stretching it out close to her curled up legs where she could easily see. Her head moved, following. Her breath still came in quick ragged gasps.

“Do you know who I am?”

She slowly nodded ‘yes’

“Can I touch your knee?” he asked.

Payne frantically shook her head no, reflexively pulling back.

“That’s fine. I’ll just stay right here.” He studied her cowering frame. “What are you seeing, Payne? Can you tell me?”

She rocked side to side slowly, her face barely peaking at him from behind her bent knees. Hancock was unsure if she didn’t want to answer him or if she was following some phantom, but at least he could see her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this, John.” Her voice seemed to creep from her, so low Hancock nearly missed what she said. “I can’t do this again.”

“We can take a little breather. Just sit here for a minute until you feel better. Kent is counting on us.”

The look of pain on her face broke his heart.

“I…” she stammered, shaking her head. “I know Kent needs help, but I just can’t. It’s like walking through my own personal nightmare.” She stifled a sob. “I’m not good to anyone like this.”

Suddenly, Nate stuck his head in the door, interrupting Payne. “Hey, guys, do y-“

Faster than Hancock could follow, Payne grabbed a near by screwdriver from a lop-sided shelf and threw it with such force, that it protruded through the door mere inches from Nate’s shocked face. Cursing, Nate retreated from view.

Looking back to Payne, he found her avoiding his eyes, shame and embarrassment written painfully all over her face.

“I’m going to go have a quick chat with Nate… I’ll be right back, okay?” As he moved to get up, he was surprised to feel her hand against his. This time when he looked at her, Payne looked almost fearful. He gave her hand a squeeze, reassuring her as much as he could. “I promise. I’ll only be on the other side of the door. We’ll figure something out.” He gave her a slight smile. “The show must go one, right?”

Payne watched Hancock leave, his voice mixing with Nate’s behind the wooden door. The demons in her mind nipped at the corners of her sanity, feeding on the familiar smells and shapes of the prewar institution even here. She wasn’t sure he understood how absolutely powerless she was. Fear flooded all her senses, washing over her in waves, overwhelming her.

Her head fell forward, heaps of her disheveled hair falling into her face. Determined to reestablish dominion over some part of her, she reached back, untying the veil in anticipation on taming the tangles.

The show must go on, right?

As she stared at the ivory lace, a wild idea blossomed in her addled brain. The Silver Shroud was going on a rescue. What was to say the Mistress of Mystery couldn’t join him? If that was the case, then all this was just a show… the whole hospital was just a set made of cheap painted plywood. She wasn’t in any real danger; she could just play the part.

Her hands seemed to move on their own. She tied the veil not around her hair, but over her face. Payne no longer felt inside herself, but almost like she floated behind her body. She watched silently as this strong woman stood up before her, her posture transformed. She straightened into something confident and powerful. The person who emerged from the janitor closet was the mirror opposite of the one who had ran into it, trembling and terrified.

“Those craven killers will pay dearly for kidnapping our kindly Kent.”

Hancock and Nate stopped mid conversation and stared. Nate blinked, his jaw attempting to move, but Hancock beat him to the punch.

“You’ve got that right, Mistress…” he glanced hard back at Nate. “Doesn’t she, Shroud?”

“Um… yes, of course, Mistress.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Well, now that we have all that settled, it’s time we moved on, don’t you think?”

The Mistress held out her hand. “My pistol, please.”

They made their way through the danger strewn offices. Payne could hear the men conversing in hushed whispers between fire fights when the Mistresses back was turned. She ignored them. She wasn’t ready to break character.

Soon they found themselves in front of a freight elevator. They had cleared the entire facility. This was the last place the villains could be hiding. The door opened slowly when Nate tried the button.

As soon they stepped inside, the Mistress spoke. “Sinjin expects the Shroud…” She reached up and quickly smashed the single exposed bulb. The car was swallowed by shadows, leaving the only illumination lingering from the previous room and a single down button. “Not a silent slayer.” She drew her blade.

Nate looked to Hancock.

Hancock thought for a second and nodded. “That might actually work. We’ll do our best to keep Sinjin and his goons looking in our direction. Give’em a good show.”

Now it was Nate’s turn to nod. “And you’ll thin the herd.” A thin smile creeped over his face. “Nice plan, Mistress.”

Nate pressed the blinking button, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hancock. The elevator door creaked shut behind them, the car nearly pitch-black save the nervously shorting elevator buttons.

The Mistress pressed herself into the furthest corner, readying herself. The car came to jittery halt. Time felt like it stood still as they waited for the doors to finally creep open, the light spilling in.

Nate and Hancock stood before her, stepping up to their cue in the spotlight.

As The Shroud and Hancock stepped forward Sinjin shouted “Shroud! I wanna talk with you.” Peering through the two silhouettes in front of her, The Mistress could see Kent on his knees, a barrel pressed against the back of his head. The man holding the gun was obscured, but his voice marked him as a ghoul. “Hold, assholes. Anyone turns heel and I’m coming for you and your family. And you, Shroud, you step any closer and we get to see what’s inside Kent’s head.” The Mistress took the opportunity to use their movement drawing everyone’s attention to dash impossibly fast into the shadows between the rotting stacks of supplies in the corner to her right.

The Shroud smartly pulled his fedora down on his brow. “You shield yourself behind an innocent. You are craven, Sinjin. And you shall fall before me.”

Her knife drawn, The Mistress easily slipped behind a distracted raider. Every eye and weapon was on The Shroud. It was a simple task to slip her blade between the raider’s ribs, hand over their mouth, while dragging them back into the darkness. Not an eye blinked in her direction.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” roared Sinjin. “Some of these losers think you’re some sort of legend. Like you walked straight out of a comic book.”

The fresh blood clung to her clothes. As she pressed herself between the narrow opening between the shelf and the wall, Payne started to slowly come back to herself, the smell grounding her. The hunger, it seemed, reminded her of what it felt to be herself.

Sinjin raged on. “But you and I know, you’re human. And you’re weak. You came here and for what? Your little sidekick?”

The Shroud answered him, bravado and confidence dripping from every word. “I have cut a path through all your thugs. Who can truly say I’m not the Shroud.”

This time, as Payne pulled the next raider into the shadows, she quietly drug the edge of her knife across their dirty throat. When the warmth slid down her throat, her body reveled in it. The Mistress vanished from her like vapor blown by the wind.

“Don’t listen men. He’s a phony. So what’s going to happen is this.” Sinjin voice lowered, the pure lethality of it chilling to hear. “I’m going to kill Kent. Then we’re going to shoot the hell out of you. Nothing’s going to be left but paste. Then I’m going to go to Goodneighbor and kill every last worthless bastard there. And burn the whole thing down. No one screws with Sinjin.”

By this time, Payne had stealthfully maneuvered herself onto the platform where Sinjin stood over Kent. To his left stood another raider, her armor in better condition than the rest, probably his second in command by the looks of things. She continually looked to Sinjin as the tension in the room grew dangerously hostile.

Payne was only a few steps away when Nate spoke again. Not as the confident Shroud, but as himself. “You know what would really get to Kent?” he teased, provoking Sinjin’s ire. Payne steeled herself. “Killing his friend, his hero, right in front of him.”

Sinjin let out a low laugh. “Enjoy the show, Kent.” He raised his rifle from Kent’s back. The rest of the raiders shifted, quickly take the hint from their leader. “After I’m done with the Shroud, you’re next.”

Before the second in command could pop off a shot, she found a combat knife buried in her neck. Payne didn’t even see where she fell, focusing solely on grabbing Kent out from under Sinjin’s legs and dragging him to safety.

“Payne?” Kent gasped.

She ignored him, concentrating on drawing her side arm and taking as many pot shots as she could at every raider in range. Payne heard the blast of Hancock’s shotgun and Nate’s laser gun. Tucked in the corner covering Kent she couldn’t see what damage the raiders were inflicted. She let herself feel a small measure of relief when half of Sinjin’s head burned away from a deftly landed laser bolt and he dropped to the ground.

After a few more tense moments of gunfire, Nate called the all clear and Payne could finally look down at Kent to see how he was fairing.

Kent rubbed his wrists after Payne untied them.

“I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life!” He gave her a quick hug.

“Are you alright?”

“My leg is killing me.”

“We’re lucky it wasn’t worse. Let’s get you sitting down.” Payne helped him hobble over to a sturdy container and eased him down. He hissed in pain as Payne probed it gently. It needed some proper medical attention before a stim would be any good.

Hancock put his hand firmly on Kent’s shoulder and squeezed. “So down goes the big bad Sinjin. We get to walk that tight rope of freedom one more day.” Glancing over, he looked no worse for wear. Nate, on the other hand, had a hastily tied bandage wrapped around his thigh.

“You okay?” Payne asked him with a slight nod.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just a graze.”

“I knew it was bad out there…” Kent stammered. “but this… I don’t even think the Silver Shroud himself could fix this disaster area.”

“I know, right? Costumed crusading is really a shitty gig.” He gave Kent another pat. “But Kent, my man. Why the long face? You got what you wanted.”

Kent looked up at the Mayor, aghast. “I was t-tortured. Almost died. It’s not like the radio plays at all.” He was almost on the edge of tears.

“Hey, who hasn’t been tortured from time-to-time? The price of throwing down with the Man is always a few scars. Pick yourself up. Goodneighbor’s just a bit safer now.”

Payne nearly slapped her boss for his flippant attitude when Nate spoke up, again with his Shroud voice.

“What would the Shroud be without his faithful friend Rhett Reinhart?” he spouted with a wry smile.

Kent, though exhausted and in pain, returned a sad smile of his own. “This. This means a lot to me.” His eyes turned towards the floor. Weakly, he added, “But I’m tired. I just want to go home.”

Payne looked at Hancock, then turned to Nate. “Hey, do you think you can help Kent home by yourself?” Hancock cocked a naked brow. “I need a minute, but Amari should look at this knee as soon as possible.” She offered her arm for Kent to hobble to his feet. “I’m worried you might need some surgery before this can get healed up right.”

Nate nodded his approval. “We’ll be fine.”

The two of them slowly made their way to the elevator. Once they were gone, it was Payne’s turn to sit down. She wasn’t lying, she did need some time. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. But what she really wanted privacy for was to call Hancock out on his bullshit.

Before she could speak, Hancock cut her off. “You got a little something…” He waved a finger over his own face.

Confused, Payne started to feel her face, but ran into her veil. “Shit!” she muttered, pulling it off. Splattered over the delicate lace was bright red blood. Embarrassment blooming in her chest, she stuffed the vail in her pocket. “You think anyone noticed?”

“Honestly,” Hancock reclined on the rusty railing. “I don’t think anyone cared.” He looked at her, lowering his voice in concern. “Are you doing okay now?”

“Yeah,” The embarrassment now mixed with shame. “I’m… sorry for freaking out there. I… I…”

“Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do to push through it and help poor old Kent.” A glint returned to his eyes, “You make one fine Mistress of Mystery, though.”

She ignored his flirty compliment, returning to the issue with Kent. “It was you feeding that info to Kent, the stuff you knew Nate would follow up on?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“You bet.”

“All with the intent of calling out Sinjin?”

“And it worked like a charm!”

“Did Kent know?”

“What?”

“Did Kent know that he could be dragged into the cross hairs?”

“No… what does that have to do with anything?” Hancock propped himself up a little more, growing defensive. “Sinjin was muscling in Goodneighbor’s territory. He was a threat and now he’s not.”

“That’s not what I’m on about. Nate can handle himself but Kent… you didn’t give him a chance to say ‘no’, to stay out of the bloody game you were playing, did you?”

“You saw him! He loved every minute of it!” Hancock lowered his eyes a bit when Payne glared at him.

“I’m not saying he wouldn’t have chosen any different if you had told him the danger, but it’s a pretty shitty thing to use his own naiveté against him. That’s not fair.”

Hancock tugged at the brim of his hat, pulling down his forehead. Payne got up and crossed over to him, putting a hand on his arm.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t take it too badly. He spends enough time in that pod of his, we don’t need him living in it.”

“Right.”

They both paused. A light flickered noisily on the ceiling.

With a small huff, Hancock asked, “You ready to hit the road, sister?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952721/chapters/55211236

#antique champagne #fallout #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #hancock #sole survivor #kent connolly #sinjin #the silver shroud #ao3

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thefragileblackdahlia · 5 years ago

Text

I Know What You Did Last Summer: Part one

Chapter Summary:

Ruby, Sam, and Dean look for a girl who hears the angels. Castiel and Uriel return.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Ariel, Ruby x Sam

Warning(s): Steamy Kissing, MAJOR Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Typical SUPERNATURAL Violence, Mild Language

A/N: The story isn't over yet don't fret. Haha. Kinder surprise egg! ♥ ♥ Also about Dean and Ariel's relationship, They do like each other to the point where they might kiss and have sex but I won't consider them canon until one of them asks the other one out. Cause it's pretty clear that they feel for each other.

When the kissing starts you will see *** feel free to skip it.

Please feel free to leave feedback.

Beta'd by Zoe (a friend)

Word count: 2,230+

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

SEVERAL WEEKS AFTER ARIEL'S DEATH

A BAR

NIGHT

Sam perched himself up against the pool table in an attempt to keep himself steady. He gripped the pool cue, shaking his head. "Brian, come on, man, just one more." The drunk hunter swallowed and studied the man he was playing against.

"Just- Just give me a chance to win it back." Sam murmured.

Brian, who appeared to be a tall biker, chuckled as he racked the billiard balls. "It's your cash." He affirmed while reaching for his glass of alcohol.

Dean was standing off to the side of the bar observing the whole interaction. While waiting for his cue, he sipped his beer, his mind drifting off into space as the thought about Ariel.

It's been weeks since Ariel's passing and he still hasn't felt whole. He thought he would feel better in a week or so but he was stupid to think that. About a week ago he may have heard about something landing in Duluth but it turned out to just be a meteor.

The 30-year-old sipped his beer and pulled out the dead poppy flower and give it a small kiss before he walked up to the wooden banister. He kissed it for luck.

"Excuse me." Dean started, slipping the poppy back into his jacket pocket and setting himself up against the railing. "My brother's a little sauced to be making bets." He nodded over to Sam who pretended to be under the influence.

Brian looked at Dean and shook his head, "Hey" He gestured to Sam. "He insisted."

"Yeah, but you've already taken, what, two bills off him? I'm just saying." Dean gesticulated to his little brother.

"Hey, shut up, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Brian with a bright smile. "I'm fine."

Dean tilted his head and blinks hard as he gripped the table, "No, you're not fine. You're drunk!"

"Let's make it five hundred." Sam pulled his lips into a coy smirk and dug into his back pocket.

"Five hundred?" Dean exclaimed with his hands up.

Brian smirked as he finished racking the billiard balls. "Sure." He watched Sam place the money on the table. "Five hundred. Your break." The biker straightened and lifted the rack to place it back under the table.

As Brian was distracted, Sam raised his brows at Dean all the indications of drunkenness gone. Dean returned the gesture.

When the biker looked back up, Sam returned to his intoxicated state and leaned over the table. He angled his pool cue and broke, sinking several balls.

Brian furrowed his brows at the realization that he lost the money, he looked up at Sam with an inscrutable expression.

Dean fought back a smile as he looked to the bike but snapped his head in his brother's direction when he heard a pressed out, "Keep the money."

The giant hunter set the cue down on the table and began speed walking toward Ruby, who he saw sitting at the bar.

"Keep the money? What--" Dean opened his arms wide as he watched his brother walk away with a heated expression. His face morphed from a jovial expression to a more choleric one when his eyes landed on the demon. He snatched his drink and followed after Sam.

"Well, you got a lot of nerve showing up anywhere near me." The righteous man stepped to the demon, ready to stab her at any moment. He clenched his jaw.

Ruby crossed her arms and fixed her eyes on the older hunter. "I just have some info, and then I'm gone."

"What is it?" Sam was patient with her, his tone of voice more gentle.

Ruby glanced at Sam and her expression softened, "I'm hearing a few whispers."

Dean scoffed, "Ooh, great, demon whisperers-- that's reliable." He rolled his eyes.

Ruby blinked hard and let out a small exhale. She chose to focus on Sam since he listened to her. "Girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday. The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently, some real heavy hitter turned out for the Easter-egg hunt."

The demon turned her attention to Dean, this information specifically for him. "I also heard that people are spotting an angry red-head running around. Sound like anybody you know?"

Dean's face dropped as he heard the description of the girl. Angry redhead? He gulped and looked at Ruby who sported a complacent expression. "Can't be our red-head. She's dead." He spat out the word dead like it was poison.

"Missing- not dead," Sam interjected.

Pivoting on his heel, Dean walked behind his brother and set his glass on the counter. He knew Sam was in denial about Ariel's death but not this much. No matter how many signs pointed to her being gone, Sam just didn't want to believe it.

Dean took a few swigs of his beer.

"Oh, well- sorry to hear that.." Ruby unfolded her arms and shifted as it was now silent and awkward. The demon let out a sigh and looked to Sam. "So, I'm thinking that this Anna is important, 'cause the order is to capture her alive. I just figured that whatever the deal is, you might want to find this girl before the demons do."

Sam nodded slightly and peeked over his shoulder to his dejected brother. "Look, maybe we should check it out."

Nearly choking on his beer as he heard those words, Dean shook his head, disapprovingly. No, he did not want to take any lead from a demon. "Actually," He forced a smile and chuckled. "We're working a case, but thanks." Dean winked.

Ruby sneered, "What case?" She was confident.

"Uh, we've got leads." Dean moved his hands as he talked, "Big leads." He gulped his beer.

Ruby rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in disbelief. "Sounds dangerous." She mocked.

"Yeah, well, it sure ain't goose-chasing after some chick who, for all we know, doesn't even exist, just because you say she's important." Dean squinted his eyes as he talked.

Ruby inhaled deeply and leaned over the bar table. "I'm just delivering the news. You can do whatever you want with it. Far as I'm concerned, I told you, I'm done." She turned to go but was stopped by Sam who had an effect over her.

"Wait, wait, wait. This hospital Anna escaped from-- it got a name?" Sam gripped Ruby's arm and squeezed it tenderly.

Ruby looked up at the tall hunter with a veiled expression.

IMPALA

NIGHT

Dean sat behind the wheel of Baby, speeding down the road. What did Ruby mean by an Angry redhead running around and why was Ruby looking for her? Did Sam ask her to? Despite him being raised from Hell Dean still believed that 'What's dead should stay dead.'

The jaded man clutched the steering wheel and glanced at his brother who addressed him.

"Well, Anna Milton's definitely real." Sam stared at his phone then looked at Dean as he spoke.

"Don't mean the case is real," Dean grumbled. He was seriously praying that Anna wasn't real; An 'I told you so' from a demon wasn't ideal.

"And this hospital's a three-day drive." He added.

Sam furrowed his brows. "We've driven further for less, Dean." He gripped his phone in his hand while he watched Dean shake his head in displeasure.

"You got something to say, say it." Sam asserted.

Dean's eyes darted over to Sam as he expressed his disgust, "Oh, I'm saying it-- This sucks." Of course, he was upset. Basically his angel girlfriend or whatever she was to him, died, and he didn't get to say goodbye properly. And at that last moment, he gazed into her eyes and saw that was goodbye but he didn't want it to be true.

It's been weeks since that has happened and now they were to just follow some demons lead even though Ariel wanted Sam to ditch Ruby at all costs.

Sam shook his head and looked straight ahead. "You're not pissed we're going after the girl. You're pissed Ruby threw us the tip." The longhaired Hunter stared at his brother.

"Right. 'Cause as far as you're concerned, the hell-bitch is practically family." Dean paused and squeezed the leather-clad wheel. "Ariel wanted you nowhere near her and yet here we are following a fucking lead. Yeah, boy, something major must've happened while I was downstairs, 'cause I come back, and- and you're BFF with a demon?" He looked at Sam with a puzzled grimace.

Dean didn't want to bring Ariel into it but he needed to get his point across.

Sam stilled, glaring at the front windshield. "I told you, Dean, she helped me go after Lilith." The man hesitated, "And Ariel isn't here." He swallowed hard.

"Right, Well, thanks for the thumbnail-- real vivid. You want to fill in a little detail?" There was a small pause. "'Cause I'm thinkin' if Ariel was here, you wouldn't even think of Ruby." Dean glowered at the road ahead, shaking his head.

The 26-year-old turned his attention to his brother, peeved. "Sure, Dean, let's trade stories. You first. How was Hell? Don't spare the details." Sam turned his upper torso to face Dean as he recommenced. "Matter of fact- Why don't you tell me why you trust Ariel so much? Because she's an angel? For all we know, she was sent to manipulate you or something."

Dean could feel his blood boiling at that comment. Why the hell would Ariel be sent to manipulate him when it was clear that the other angels despised the 'fallen.' The troubled hunter inhaled deeply and pressed his lips together.

"Don't talk about her like that." He pressed out through clenched teeth.

The long-haired hunter reached forward and flicked on the radio, hoping some music might diffuse the tension but it didn't. It was like the world was working against him because 'I Hate Myself for Loving You' by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts played through the speakers.

Dean immediately switched off the stereo and pressed his foot to the gas pedal. He was ready to make the three-day drive.

HOSPITAL

DAY

three days later

Sam and Dean stood in a pristine white room in their FED threads, questioning the psychologist.

Sam had his hands shoved deep into his pockets while Dean was over by the bed with a notepad and pen, jotting down some notes and searching for anything supernatural.

"Now, the orderly has no recollection of Anna's escape?" Fiddling with the lock-pick in his pocket, the psychologist had half of Sam's attention.

The psychologist clutched the manila folder in her right arm as she motioned with her left. "Apparently, she knocked him unconscious. The blow caused some amnesia. He doesn't even remember coming into her room."

Dean flipped his notepad close, "That's a hell of a right hook to knock a guy that's got 80 pounds on her." He strolled over to his place next to Sam.

"We think she may have planned this," The woman gestured to the door as she was stepping out of the room to leave. "Waited behind the door." She concluded.

The brothers followed her out of the room, Sam trying to put together the information in his mind. "Right. Uh, you mentioned Anna's illness was recent."

"Two months ago," The psychologist started, turning to face the duo. "She was happy, well-adjusted, journalism major, lots of friends-- bright future."

Dean furrowed his brows and pursed his lips in confusion. "So, what happened--she just...flipped?"

The woman averted her eyes and smiled faintly. "Well, that's the tragedy of schizophrenia. Within weeks, Anna was overtaken by delusions."

"What kind of delusions?" Sam tilted his head, genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Turning her attention to the floor, a skeptical smirk crept onto her face. "She thought demons were everywhere." As she talked she handed Sam the sketchbook.

Sam reached for the book. "Huh," He said as he flipped through the book.

Dean flipped open his notepad and began writing down the notes, "Interesting." He murmured, most likely to seem professional.

"It's not uncommon for our patients to believe that monsters are real." The woman added with a small smile.

This snagged Dean's attention. Dean looked up and laughed, "Well, that-" The hunter paused as he caught a glimpse of the sketches. "That's just batty." He finished. Turning his attention back to the book, he recognized the different seals that have been broken.

"That's revelations," Dean muttered.

"Since when does the Book of Revelations have jack-o-lanterns?" The psychologist jeered.

Dean pursed his lips, trying to think of an excuse. "It's uh...a little-known translation."

The psychologist parted her lips with a puzzled expression, "Ah..." She paused. "Well, Anna's father was a church deacon. When she became ill, her paranoia took on religious overtones. She was convinced the devil was about to rise up and end the world."

She sighed, "I hope you find her. It's dangerous for her to be out there alone right now."

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look. If Anna knew all of this then what could she be and how was she still alive? They both turned to the woman and Sam flashed his famous puppy eyes, "Could we get her address- to question her parents?"

"Of course." The woman searched through her manila folder and then handed the boys a piece of paper.

Dean snatched the paper from Sam, a pallid half-smile dancing across his face. "Thanks."

PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST

#dean winchester #sam and dean #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #Dean x OFC #Sam Winchester #castiel #SPN S4 #spn fanfiction #SPN Angels #SPN #i know what you did last summer #series rewrite #rewrite #uriel

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rainythefox · 6 years ago

Text

The Truth of Micah Bell

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR RDR2

Wanted to put my thoughts and theories out there about the despicable rat Micah Bell, and how he almost single-handedly took down the Van der Linde Gang.

The Van der Linde Gang, a highly infamous gang that has been around for nearly 20 years by 1899. By this point, they have robbed nearly 50 banks, countless businesses, stagecoaches, trains, etc. You have some of the deadliest gunslingers, marksmen, robbers, hunters, etc within this group of people, led by a highly influential man armed with wits and a silver-tongue and his partner, a master con-artist.

How does a gang like this fall apart, implode, and crumble within months after so many years of loyalty, love, and dedication? All you need is one snake playing the right angles.

In the game, we learn that after the gang came back from Guarma that it was Micah that was picked up by the Pinkertons and talked, that ratted them out. Molly was just an unfortunate red herring. Now, Micah may not have talked to the Pinkertons before that moment, to save his skin, but there are definite signs that he never had the gang’s best interests at heart, especially after Blackwater.

So the story goes that Micah joined the Van der Linde Gang after “saving” Dutch when he tried to sell stolen gold for the gang and was “attacked”. This was said by Micah in a random camp event, and this is never backed up by Dutch or his closest partner or enforcer (Hosea or Arthur). So we can only go by Micah’s word whether this truly happened or not, but I know there has to be some validation to this as Dutch allowed him into the gang.

He is only with the gang for six months before the events took place in Blackwater that set the ball rolling that would be the untimely demise of our favorite gang. It was Micah that got Dutch excited about this ferry job, when Hosea and Arthur told him it didn’t feel right and had a better lead for something else. The ferry job not only fails, but becomes a major slaughter. The gang loses four members as we are starting the game, (Mac, Davey, Jenny, and Sean, who luckily comes back) and John gets shot. Now when you live this kind of lifestyle, people are going to get hurt or die, sometimes things go wrong. But this gang has been doing this for nearly 20 years. Mistakes like this are unlikely to happen. It has been hinted in game that this ferry was heavily guarded, but that it wasn’t known to the gang, that it was supposed to be “easy”. Who fed this information to Dutch? Micah.

From there on out, the gang continually gets into botched heists and jobs, and this isn’t something you would expect from a gang that, again, has been doing this for 20 years with some of the best gunslingers in the world.

For a man such as Dutch, who, with his fellow gang members, have always stayed one step ahead of their enemies, have stolen heists from other notorious gangs, have continued to live this long despite the prices on their heads, just doesn’t make any sense. I think someone was sabotaging them. Who? You guessed it. Micah.

Let me give an example here. Colm O’Driscoll. He suddenly wants peace with Dutch and their gangs? They knew Arthur would be on the ledge. We knew it was a trap in the beginning. And Colm said it was to lure Dutch and the others in when they went to save Arthur to get them captured by the Pinkertons in exchange for him being left alone. But Micah insisted Dutch do this, preaching a scripted story about how he cares about the gang and that this would get one less enemy off their backs. Micah is the one who told Arthur to go up on that ledge! And that they would meet him at the crossroads after the meeting (which didn’t happen of course). Now, we know it was Pearson who brought this up, saying he bumped into Colm’s men and “got to talking”, and they suggested peace. First of all, how the HELL do the O’Driscolls even know who Pearson is? He isn’t one of the known faces of the gang. Someone told Colm about Pearson and what he would be doing, and set it all up. I’m thinking...Micah. I’ll get back to this in a minute.

When you go back to Micah’s temporary camp after you bust him out of Strawberry jail and he has rejoined the gang, you can find his leftover stuff. One item you pick up is a WANTED POSTER for Dutch van der Linde. I assume it is an old poster as I recall it saying $1000 for Dutch, but Milton stated that Arthur was worth $5,000. So I assume Dutch’s bounty has skyrocketed past that after the Blackwater incident. Suspicious, yes? It gets better.

Now we can chock the fallout with the Grays and Braithwaites as just another failed lead and mess up. Maybe they were smarter than they looked and caught on. But come on, how could these families get wind on the gang that fast? The Grays seemed especially gullible despite their powerful influence. These two warring families should have assumed it was the other more so than the gang. I think someone tipped them off as well. I can’t provide any hard evidence to this particular scenario, but it just seems unlikely that the gang would have been found out that fast without some inside information. Besides that, how the hell did the Braithwaites know where the gang was camping at? Someone had to have told them in order for them to sneak in there and take Jack. I know Hosea wasn’t about to hand Catherine a map with directions so they could play cribbage *snorts*.

Keep in mind Micah still has his buddies on the outside of the gang he could use to relay information or tip anyone to set the gang up, be it the Grays, Braithwaites, Pinkertons, etc.

That being said, I do not think Micah tipped anyone off about the Saint Denis bank job. I think that was a mix between the destruction of the Grays and the Braithwaites, and the botched train station job where Arthur, Dutch, and Lenny were set up by Angelo Bronte. I think this drew in the Pinkertons. Hell, maybe Bronte tipped them off when he saw that the cops failed to kill Dutch, Arthur, and Lenny, and knew they would be coming for him.

Anyways, I digress. Once Hosea was dead and Arthur was getting sicker, Micah weaseled his way into being Dutch’s right hand man. He twisted words and played Dutch into turning against most of the gang, including his most trusted. It was at this time that it went to shit in a hurry, that Dutch went mad and started doing reckless, impulsive actions, something he never used to do. Maybe most people would play into it being because Micah is also impulsive and violent, and he is manipulating Dutch into doing what he wants. Although partly true, I also think it stems that Micah wanted Dutch to be caught/killed all along. Or at least since after the Blackwater incident.

In the Epilogue when John shows up to kill Micah and avenge Arthur, Dutch is already there. Micah makes it sound like Dutch just arrived, and that they had plans to team up together once more. I bet he lured Dutch in, telling him he went in and got the money from Blackwater. He tempts John to join them, although this is likely a trick. After Micah is killed, and the credits are rolling, we see Edgar Ross and Archer Fordham arrive at Mount Hagen. They find Micah’s body. Ross seems really disappointed about finding Micah dead. How did they know where to find him? John, Sadie, and Charles only found out by threatening Cleet. I think Ross and Fordham knew where Micah was because Micah was going to hand over Dutch.

Can you imagine the reward money for Dutch van der Linde? Alive? If Arthur was worth $5000 after Blackwater, I guarantee Dutch was nearly double that. Now some of you may think that it wouldn’t make sense for Micah to turn Dutch in for the bounty when he could make more money staying in the gang. Well, that’s why he played Dutch. He played him and the gang, set it up to get Dutch’s trust, and turned Dutch against everyone else. Once their big score was secured, Micah was going to turn in Dutch to get the Pinkertons to let him go free and he was going to disappear with ALL that money.

Once Micah realized the shitstorm they were in because of Blackwater, he started working on how to get free and save himself. I think he tried to work a deal with Colm O’Driscoll first and set them up, but Arthur escape and it fell through. I think Micah tipped the Grays and Braithwaites off somehow to try and get the gang caught, and I am sure it did end up drawing the Pinkertons in. After he was caught, of course he was going to rat them out. He made a deal to save himself and hand the rest of the gang over on silver platters. I think Micah shot Miss Grimshaw not only to cut down Arthur’s support, but to alert the Pinkertons where they were. I mean, they showed up directly after. He knew they were coming!

And yet again, Dutch and the others got away. And this time Dutch left him, left Arthur, left everyone. Because Dutch realized that Arthur was right and couldn’t face what he had done. Years later, when Dutch comes to see Micah, you know Micah is preaching for them to team up again, using the money from Blackwater as a bargaining chip to lure him in. He knows that if he can keep Dutch there, the Pinkertons would come in and take him and Micah gets a reward and let free. And bonus points if he got JOHN MARSTON as well!!! Why else would he tempt John to join them?

I think by this time, Dutch knows what Micah is up to, and doesn’t really care. I think he is there to kill Micah just as much as John was in that very moment. For Arthur.

Ross is just so disappointed that Micah was dead. It’s hard to miss.

Anyways. In the end, Micah was a manipulative, backstabbing coward who knew exactly how to play Dutch and the gang to save his own skin. He is a rat, but also quite intelligent. I think he knew Dutch’s type, and knew them well. I think he has done this before. He knew exactly how to take advantage of every single misstep or tragedy the gang endured, weaseling his way into a position where he could sell the gang out, turn them in, especially Dutch, the most wanted of them all, and take all their money and run.

“I believe there’s winners and losers...and nothing else besides.”

He almost did too, until Dutch and John arrived to avenge Arthur.

It only takes one rat to infect your family with disease. In this case, that disease was betrayal.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 spoilers #rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john marston #micah bell #hosea matthews #red dead spoilers #meta #red dead redemption meta

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junewild · 4 years ago

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tags masterpost

a couple of people have complimented me on my new tag system and a couple of people have asked me what tags go to what sort of content, so i thought i’d write up a little masterpost of what the tags mean, where they came from, and why they’re important to me! you’ll even get a sneak peek at a few tags that are very rare or have yet to be used 👀. this will be linked in my carrd when i get around to it. i’ve even tried to alphabetize them 😅 thanks for expressing interest, it’s very lovely of you all xoxo

#and i am close behind — home tag

a continuation of “the wild geese are heading home again” which is my nature tag. just for everything that makes me feel like i am coming home.

#and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart — quotes and words tag

from a poem by e.e. cummings. “and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart / i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”. words are just hearts speaking to each other, after all.

#and i was like *screams* — space tag

from the jenny slate drunk history nasa episode, because she somehow manages to sum up fully 80% of my feelings about the universe in that one sentence

#angstposting — disordered thoughts tag

literally just stream-of-consciousness breakdown-posting. probably block this tag. i go back and clean it out after every breakdown.

#but they are all good stories — media analysis/literature critique tag

hilary mantel (whose work i have never read) wrote that “some of these things are true and some of them lies. but they are all good stories.” anyway, that’s how i feel about taking apart stories and narratives and looking at them from the outside.

#can you not hear the ocean in me — mental health and disorders tag

the non-breakdown version. from this poem, which i can’t find anyone but i think is a deleted inkskinned or caitlyn siehl one:

“i am alive;

can you not hear the ocean in me;

are you not aware of the war i am fighting ;

i am alive ;

you cannot take that from me”

#checkmate nihilism — crafts tag

higgsboshark wrote a lovely post about how knitting is a great treatment for existential dread & now that’s all i think about every time i’m crafting. checkmate, nihilism. look at this thing that i am making with my hands. it exists and it will change someone’s life.

#dumbposting — misc tag

for tag games and dumb comments and things that don’t fit in anywhere else.

#fashion is instant language — fashion/body art tag

okay. IS this a cliche prada quote? yes. but also, one of my first classes in college was about art & society & the first thing that we learned was that the human body is the first & most primal canvas. what you do with your body is a statement, a language you are sharing with the people around you. i get very emotional about it.

#felt rather than seen — poetry tag

YES i am a BASIC WHITE GIRL, thank you. the first half of the da vinci quote. “poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen / “

#fill your arms with the pink and white flowers — spring aesthetic tag

from one of mary oliver’s slightly less well known poems.

“do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly

exclaiming of their dearness,

fill your arms with

the pink and white flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing

forever”

#get in good trouble — activism/politics tag

are you really living if you aren’t making trouble for someone? write more letters. leave more voicemails. go to protests. join a mutual aid group. donate. there’s something you can do, even if it’s small.

#i am building a world that is worth living for — moral living tag

slightly different from the activism tag bc this is more about what you/i can do in everyday life to make the world a better place. these are my own words, reminding me that to stay alive i have to build my own life and live in it.

#i care to look on the outside like i do on the inside — gender/ sexuality tag

maggie stiefvater is a poet.

#i have a magpie mind — happy tag

laurie graham’s version of the quote goes “i have a magpie mind, by which i mean i see and hear little things - photos, fragments of conversation - and store them away for future use,” and that’s what this tag is. just a lot of lovely things that i want to look back on.

#i think i was a selkie in a past life — ocean/beach/selkie myth tag

someday i’m going to walk into the ocean and never come out again. j promised he would take me to a warm ocean where i can stand in chest-deep waves until i can’t stand any longer and i’ve never looked forward to anything so much in my life.

#i wrote my own deliverance — creation/writing tag

this is not an admission of guilt. hamilton has a lot of words in it and these happen to be very nice.

#it would be a merrier world — food tag

because tolkien was right.

#laughter for no cause — humor tag

funny things. half of a quote by louise glück.

#let the wilderness engulf us again — discourse tag

i believe this is by christa wolf. anyway this is how i feel when i read Discourse. let’s all just get swallowed by the wilderness. who needs civilization anyway.

#loveposting — affection tag

look, i’m just really gay and happy and i love my followers and my mutuals. let’s move on

#nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it — memory/emotion tag

yes, i have read everything ever written by l m montgomery, why do you ask?

#offspring of heaven firstborn — light tag

constantly debating about whether i should change this one. i just have too many quotes about light. and too many posts about light. and too much love for light. this one is by milton, from the third book of paradise lost, and i memorized the entire chapter as a teenager because my “history” “class” believed in memorization as a form of education.

#our bodies are meant to hold other bodies — sex/eros tag

from that little comic by grendelmenz (?). i KNOW it’s about cannibalism i DON’T care don’t @ me to love is to consume

#seen rather than felt — painting/visual art tag

and here’s the other half of the da vinci quote.

#she stood in desperate music wound — music and playlists tag

from “a crazed girl” by yeats. tbh i usually lie upside down in my bed in desperate music wound but this poem kept me going as a teenager

#simply because the world is beautiful — misc tag

i just think the world is lovely and i am glad to be alive in it. this is where the rest of the assorted content goes.

#someday you will be old enough to read fairytales again — fantasy/gaming/scifi tag

cs lewis got one thing right.

#stardust will turn into kindness — joy tag

okay. okay i am still weeping about this man and his chickens. this tag is for every small creature who brings me delight. https://everychickdeservesamother.com/2019/08/17/all-the-good-there-is/

#thank god for the months after may — summer aesthetic tag

i haven’t listened to ben rector since i was seventeen but this is a good quote anyway and summer flowers are the thing that keep me going through the winter.

#the first sign of civilization is a healed femur — civilization/altruism/kindness tag

paraphrase of the famous (possibly apocryphal) margaret meade quote. i saw a criticism of it by the green brothers, who were like “but lots of people/animals show altruism without any connection to civilization (eg buildings and cities and record keeping systems)” and i deeply disagree with them. civilization doesn’t require monuments, only people coming together to build (metaphorically) something bigger than they could have done as individuals. humans aren’t the only ones on that path, just the ones who’ve gotten the furthest down it.

#the great sweeping wind — autumn aesthetic

yes i am a shameless l m montgomery stan. anne of green gables is my kindred spirit.

#the quick and the dead — fungi tag

from the bible. you know. we all sin, we’re all alive or dead or both. fungi don’t care.

#the race that knows joseph — kindred spirit tag

haven’t gotten to use this one yet. looking forward to when i do.

#the wild geese are heading home again — nature tag

shortened version of mary oliver’s poem.

#there is a history in all men’s lives — history/natural history/anthropology tag

shakespeare knew how to use words. everything is history and i am excited about ALL of it. when will someone admit me into a grad school???

#we are the children of an indifferent universe — community/fandom tag

but, like colin meloy says, we are also the inheritors of a wonderful world. i think it’s amazing how we look at the universe around us and build communities and find meaning out of sheer spite. also i have got to refine this tag set better i can’t just shove ALL fandom content into one tag. stay tuned

#we don’t love this world without reason — awe/joy tag

from catadromously’s comic. this is for things that make me go “oh.” when i see them.

#we shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us — architecture/interior design tag

churchill can have one right. architecture is one of my favorite art forms & interior design is something i love looking at and doing. someday i’ll even be able to afford it.

#we will be better than we were — recovery tag

from (yet another) caitlyn siehl poem that reads:

“love is quiet love whispers “it is okay, we will be better than we were” and we are. we are.”

and we are.

#within me; an invincible summer — winter aesthetic tag

albert camus wrote that: “in the midst of winter, i found there was, within me, an invincible summer. and that makes me happy. for it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.” winters are hard for me, but i hang on anyway.

#you have no idea the joy that is coming — love tag

guess who this quote is by? if you guessed caitlyn siehl, you are correct.

#you pull out the wild in me - feral aesthetic

not feral, just… wild. i don’t know. i don’t think i made this quote up but i can’t find it anywhere else so maybe i did. i’m guessing it’s now-deleted inkskinned or bonemeadows.

#you’ve got to be kind — misc humans tag

kurt vonnegut. because yeah. we’ve got to be kind. that’s the only rule. we’re just humans and we have to be kind.

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hannah-deserved-better · 5 years ago

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Ultimate guide to my Supernatural Fics

This is an ultimate guide to the fics I currently have out on AO3. Like or comment if you would like to be part of a tag list of people I tag when the fics are updated. PLEASE READ AO3 tags! And continue to read them as I update them as I go, and my fics tend to get dark! Also, no hate about the pairings, don’t like them, just keep scrolling. I write for me first and no one is forcing you to read. ALL my fics are Castiel/Hannah centered and common other pairings include Dean/Jo, Sam/Eileen, and Crowley/Meg. I also favor poly pairings so there will be lots of those. All of my fics, art, and RPGs on here will be under the tag: #HannahGirl

Chosen: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219222/chapters/45695716

Characters; Castiel, Hannah, Dean, Sam, Eileen Leahy, Jo Harvelle, Crowley, Meg, Charlie Singer (Bradbury), Anna Milton

Season One: A remake of the series starting from when Dean picks up Sam from Stanford. They run into Castiel who is on the hunt for a renegade angel who is alleged to have defied Michael and started the apocalypse. Meanwhile, Hannah is on the run from heaven. She meets Jo and as Team Free Will begins to form, they realize that it’s not just heaven and hell. The gods of the Greeks, the Celts, the Norse, the Hindus, the Aztecs, and the Egyptians have all chosen this team free will to be their champions against the ultimate apocalypse

Pairings: starts off with most characters being strangers, but as they meet and work together, the main pairings will be Castiel/Hannah, Sam/Eileen, Dean/Jo, Crowley/Meg, and Charlie/Anna but there will also be a lot of poly pairings, just not sure who yet. Jo/Gordon Walker is a temporary pairing in the beginning.

Warnings/ratings: Medium smut, dark themes, angst, violence, implied torture, secret societies and religious mystics of many world religions, including Christianity and Judaism (if you are triggered by such things, beware). Jewish persecution, black death.

Castiel (Judeo-Christian): Castiel arrives on Earth to try to track Hannah who is guilty of killing another angel and leading a siege into hell, opening its gates and starting the apocalypse. As he travels with the Winchesters, he sees the many signs of the impending apocalypse, starting with the seven deadly sins. He also learns that his vessel, Jimmy, was a member of a secret society dedicated to the hunt for religious artifacts.

Hannah (Judeo-Christian): Hannah claims that she went to hell under orders from the archangels. Now, she feels betrayed by them because they seem to be pinning the apocalypse on her when she was only following orders. Now, she is a renegade on Earth. She learns that her vessel, Caroline, was the descendant of a Dutch Jew who arrived in New York in 1650 and whose family has had an ongoing rivalry with the Thule.

Dean (Norse): Dean is drawn into helping Castiel track the angel and the seven deadly sins but along the way, he discovers that he has been chosen by Odin to prevent the Ragnarok from beginning.

Sam (Hindu): Sam is still grieving his girlfriend and he is hoping that after they find their father, he can go back to Stanford and try to live a normal life. But he’s caught up in Castiel’s hunt for the renegade angel, and then he discovers that he is chosen to help the Hindu god Kalki prevent the world from ending.

Jo Harvelle (Greek): Jo agrees to protect Hannah from the angels hunting her. She wants to be a hunter but her mother disapproves so she sees this as a chance to prove herself. But then the goddess Athena appears and tells her that the titans have escaped from Tartarus and must be put back before they cause destruction on Earth and before the kill the Olympian gods.

Eileen Leahy (Celtic): Eileen is a hunter from Ireland. When her parents and her hearing was taken from her by a banshee, she trained to become a hunter and was the sole protector of the small Irish village she lived in. She was a Celtic witch and was once part of Rowena’s coven and has come to the US to try to find Rowena.

Crowley (Judeo-Christian): Crowley offers to aid the Winchesters, to help them track down and kill the deadly sins. Dean suspects its a trap somehow and Castiel doesn’t want anything to do with him, but apparently, Jimmy Novak and Crowley’s vessel were in the same secret society together.

Meg (Judeo-Christian): Meg joins Jo, Hannah, and Eileen. Meg herself has been on Earth since the 14th century. When she was human, her entire Jewish village was destroyed by paranoid mercenaries who blamed the Jews for the plague. Meg made a deal with a crossroads demon to get her revenge on everyone involved, and their families. Then, when she died and became a demon, she became a vengeance demon. She traveled to Europe and the US and offered to kill people for clients.

Charlie Singer (Aztec): In this AU, Charlie is the daughter of Bobby Singer and was raised with the Winchesters as their cousin. Bobby didn’t want her to follow in his footsteps and be a hunter, and she was always sick of being left out of the Winchesters hunts, but when she meets Anna Milton she begins to realize she is a part of this puzzle too. She’s chosen to help Quetzalcoatl prevent the destruction of this fifth world.

Anna Milton (Egyptians): Anna is a fallen angel who allies herself with Team Free Will, though she has no memory and no grace. But it’s discovered that her grace is being protected by the Egyptian goddess Bast. Apparently, Set wants to find the angel before heaven does and force her to do his bidding.

Emotions are dangerous temptations: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049778/chapters/50071364

Characters: Castiel, Hannah, Sam, Meg, Dean

Season 10, shortly after “Soul Survivor”: Castiel brings a wounded Hannah back to the bunker. They quickly learn that she is suffering from some mysterious angel poison that is destroying her grace from within. As Castiel stays by her side, caring for her, he begins to learn about true love and his feelings for Hannah. Sam is taking care of Dean who seemed to be recovering from his time as a demon but also begins to suffer a strange illness. Castiel and Sam bond over being caretakers and Castiel soon learns he is developing feelings for Sam that he never realized were there before. Later, they are joined by an old friend, Meg, who faked her own death. Castiel realizes that he is capable of loving more than one person and that he wants to explore his love and devotion for Hannah, Sam, and Meg. But first, he must save Hannah’s life. Losing her, he realizes, would break him in a way that he’s never been broken before and he begins to realize that his life is tied to hers, to Sams and to Megs.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Meg

Warnings/ratings: Medium smut, sick!fic, poison

Castiel: This story focuses on Castiel and his emotions and his relationship with those around him. It starts with Hannah as his feelings for her grow as he struggles to save her. Castiel’s internal struggle to try to understand the emotions he’s feeling as he watches Hannah fight for her life, as he grows closer to Sam, as he addresses his feelings of guilt at learning that Meg has been alive this whole time.

Hannah: During the altercation with Adina, Hannah is wounded and infected with a strange angel poison. Castiel is desperate to find a cure, but during the few times that she’s well enough, he introduces her to humanity and the things he’s learned here on Earth.

Sam: Sam has been through a lot lately, trying to bring Dean from being a demon. He confides in Castiel during this difficult time and the two of them bond over being caretakers to those that they love. Sam helps Castiel search for a cure for Hannah.

Meg: While on a supply run, Castiel and Sam run into Meg who apparently faked her own death and has been laying low, hiding from Crowley. She had aligned herself with Abaddon for a brief time, but Abaddon tortured her and she fled hell. Now she’s a rogue demon.

Dean: Dean is recovering from being a demon but he’s still suffering the effects of the mark of Cain. He’s overly aggressive towards everyone, but especially to Hannah and Meg. He doesn’t trust either of them. But when he comes down with a strange ailment that seems to be linked to Hannah’s condition, he is forced to let Sam and Castiel take care of him.

Where Angels Walk: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426580/chapters/51052330

Characters: Castiel, Casstiel, Hannah, Hana, Jimmy Novak, Caroline Johnson, Virginia Moss, Kai Singh

Season 15, after 15X3 when Cas leaves the bunker, things may change as the current season evolves: Castiel is alone and lost as he leaves the bunker. He feels as though he has lost everything. No one seems to want him. Not heaven, not the Winchesters, and the only one who gave him any sort of happiness- Jack- is gone. He’s not handling Jack’s death well and he is finally realizing that his relationship with Dean has been toxic. He needs to find himself but he’s so used to feeling worthless that he has trouble realizing that he doesn’t deserve to be mistreated. Now, someone comes back into his life, a beloved friend he thought was gone: Hannah. Not long after he runs into Hannah, Castiel also meets his and Hannah’s counterparts from another one of Chuck’s worlds. Casstiel and Hana are from a world where everything happened the exact same way as they did in this world- up until season 10 where their universe began to be different. And their world is this wonderful Steampunk Victorian-era world. Casstiel has just left the Winchester sister’s bunker after she lost her own Jack and she isn’t sure how she managed to find her way into this other world, but she and Castiel soon realize that Chuck has nefarious plans for both worlds. Also, the angel’s vessels have some pasts of their own that will quickly become part of the equation.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Casstiel/Hana, Casstiel/Hannah, Castiel/Hana

Warnings/ratings: implied emotional, psychological, and physical abuse, torture, domestic abuse

Castiel/Jimmy Novak: Castiel is alone, but when he runs into Hannah, he begins to explore the past of his vessel Jimmy as he helps Hannah evade Caroline’s abusive husband. Similar to “chosen” Castiel discovers that Jimmy had secrets of his own. And enemies. Jimmy was part of a secret society that has counted him as missing these past years but have recently tracked him down.

Hannah/Caroline Johnson: Hannah doesn’t know why she has returned from the empty. She’s upset to learn about Chuck’s misdeeds. She was especially upset to discover Caroline, her former vessel being abused by a paranoid alcoholic that her husband had become. When she takes Caroline away, Joe begins to stalk them and learns about angels and he plots to kill them. In addition, Hannah learns that Caroline is the descendant of an important Dutch Jewish family and now the Thule is after her.

Casstiel/Virginia Moss: Casstiel has been the Winchester sisters angel since she rebelled to help prevent the apocalypse. She is from a victorian age steampunk world. She has been drawn into a war that began when Hana released Metatron from his prison and the scribe planned to get his revenge on the Earth and on Casstiel. It’s been five years and the Winchesters have been involved in constant warfare with Metatron and heaven is divided into factions following him, Casstiel, or Naomi. Her vessel, Virginia Moss is from a long line of angel vessels and a society of people dedicated to aiding heaven. Virginia always knew she could be chosen to be a vessel and she accepted the responsibility, as did her mother and mother before her.

Hana/Kai Singh: Hana died saving Casstiel when her borrowed grace was failing. He was so desperate to save the angel he believed the true leader of heaven that he released Metatron from the prison he was in to save Casstiel. Unfortunately, Hana was tricked and wounded fatally. Casstiel found him just in time and he gave her his grace and died. Now, he’s been resurrected somehow. Hana’s vessel, Kai, is a British man of letters.

When in Rome: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140294/chapters/50311271

Characters: Castiel, Hannah, Dean, Jo Harvelle, Sam, Eileen, Leahy

A series of period dramas starting with Ancient Rome. Hannah, the daughter of a wealthy Roman senator, is captured by a nest of vampires masquerading as prostitutes and slave traders. Though she was never a favorite of her father, Hannah lived a life in relative luxury but now she is exposed to a world of misery and abuse. Her only chance to escape is the gladiator slave, Castiel, and his two friends, Sam and Dean, who are hunters posing as Roman soldiers.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Sam/Eileen, Dean/Jo

Warnings/ratings: Medium smut, prostitution, sexual assault, abuse, slavery, dark themes, violence

Castiel: Castiel is a gladiator. As a slave, he is owned by a Roman senator, Michael and he lives in a brothel with other slaves. He barely has enough food and is being forced to fight in the arena for the entertainment of Rome’s elite.

Hannah: Hannah is the daughter of Roman senator, Raphael. Her sister, Naomi is favored between the two sisters and Hannah is a bit of a rebel. She befriends Castiel during her captivity with the vampires and begins to learn about the secret network of hunters living in rome and keeping it safe from vampires and demons.

Maine Chronicles series:

October: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525847/chapters/38710994

November: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756855/chapters/46764895

Characters: Castiel, Hannah, Sam, Dean, Eileen, Jo, Charlie, Crowley, Meg, Claire Novak, Kaia, Jack, Jesse Turner (the cambion), Gabriel

Season 14: When Team Free Will relocates to a secondary bunker in the woods of Maine, they quickly realize that their fates are tied to the little town on the edge of the forest. When Hannah, Jo, and Eileen mysteriously fall pregnant- along with most of the town- the Winchesters begin to suspect something paranormal. But Hannah’s strange visions and dreams seem to point to the possibility that she has been here before. And Meg and Crowley seem to know something about that.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Sam/Eileen/Gabriel, Dean/Jo, Jo/Charlie, Crowley/Meg, Claire/Kaia, Jack/Jesse

Warnings/ratings: Medium smut, past abuse and domestic abuse, haunting, pregnancy, Werewolf!Eileen, Vampire!Jo, hate sex, enemies to lovers, abusive toxic relationships

Castiel: Castiel is struggling with his new role as a father as Claire (AU in which Claire is a teenager) is placed in his custody and he is raising her and Jack together alongside Hannah. Things get hard with Hannah’s mysterious pregnancy, and with Lucifer trying to sue for custody of Jack.

Hannah: Hannah doesn’t know how she became pregnant, or even that it was possible for an angel to be pregnant. But she and Castiel are committed to face their challenges together. But with the strange visions she keeps having, and the ghosts that seem to be stalking her, she begins to realize she may have been in this town before. She’s also concerned when Raphael appears and warns her that the unborn child she is carrying maybe something very unnatural and evil.

Dean: Dean is happy to have Jo back in his life. He was surprised by her sudden appearance after she had been dead for so long. He suspects she may be hiding something big from him but with all the paranormal activity around this region, he and Sam are pretty busy. In addition, Dean is trying to elude Michael whom he knows is looking for him.

Jo: Jo has been alive this whole time and she doesn’t know how to tell Dean that. After being revived shortly after her death, she’s spent all these years living in seclusion in the Australian outback. But one chance encounter with a vampire has left her a monster. She sought out a Tibetan monk in China that taught her to control her urges to kill and has so far managed to control them by learning to feed on blood donations and on animal blood. But now, with her own pregnancy, she has found those urges are getting harder to control. And she hasn’t told Dean anything about this.

Sam: Sam has been helping Dean elude Michael but his demon blood is beginning to resurface and his craving for demon blood has returned as well.

Eileen: Eileen knew there was something wrong with her the moment she was brought back from the dead. She didn’t come back quite right. She didn’t know she was a werewolf but on the full moon, she began to have urges for more than just flesh. An incurable sexual appetite fueled by primordial wolf instincts led to an encounter with Gabriel, even though it’s clear she’s Sam’s girl. Now she doesn’t know who the father of her twins is.

Charlie: Charlie moved into the bunker with the Winchesters to be, as she calls it, ‘their new bobby’ as the techie hacker wiz whose job it is to hack into newspapers and police reports looking for new cases. She decides to take in and look after Kaia and she and Jo get very close. She and Jo begin to have a secret relationship.

Claire: Claire is a troubled young girl. She blames Castiel for what happened to her family. She is hostile towards Hannah and any attempt by Castiel to be the father she lost. She starts being a little better when she meets Kaia and two troubled teens began to investigate Hannah’s ghosts together.

Jack: Jack loves living with Castiel and Hannah and he loves learning about human holidays like Halloween and Christmas. He’s a two-year-old in a teen’s body and he relies on Castiel to guide him.

Kaia: Kaia is a teenage runaway who starts living with Charlie. She and Claire become close.

Jesse: Jesse is the antichrist cambion from season 5. A few years ago, he was picked up by Meg, who has apparently faked her own death and has been laying low with the cambion all these years. Jesse considers Meg his adopted mother.

Meg: Meg arrives with the cambion and Crowley reveals that she has something to do with the history of this town, and with Hannah’s visions. Meg is a little jealous of Castiel and Hannah’s relationship and is frustrated by the dysfunctional hate-love relationship she is forming with Crowley.

Crowley: Crowley arrives shortly after Meg, having been trapped in the apocalypse world. He is very interested in the cambion and wants to harness his powers for himself so he and Meg enter in an awkward co-parenting tug of war type of relationship with Jesse.

Gabriel: Gabriel arrives and is trying to hide out from a jealous Loki. He helps Cas and the others with their dilemmas and finds himself in a secret relationship with both Sam and Eileen.

Gathering the Arsenal (formerly, “Bunker Pack”): https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364957/chapters/33161349

Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Annika (an OC), Jack, Apocalypse!Charlie, Apocalypse!Hannah, Apocalypse!Jo, Apocalypse!Eileen, Claire Novak

Season 13. Apocalypse world Charlie arrives from the apocalypse world to help the Winchesters prepare for Michael’s arrival into this world. She brings her most trusted resistance leaders: Jo Harvelle, Eileen Leahy, and Hannah. All four women have been through a lot and are all hardened soldiers, nothing like their counterparts in this world. Gabriel has a plan to save the angels from extinction but it involves a lot of hard to come by ingredients, as well as a trip to the other world, and some serious sacrifices.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Dean/Jo, Sam/Eileen, Charlie/Claire, Jack/OC (platonic friendship)

Warnings/ratings: Medium smut, dark themes, dystopia violence, abuse, torture, PTSD

Castiel: Castiel is working alongside a traumatized Apocalypse!Hannah and trying to teach her how to trust again. He is determined to save the angels from extinction and to defeat Michael.

Dean: Dean is angry over Mary and Jack being stranded in the apocalypse world. He’s very opposed to Claire’s involvement in their angel plan and is at odds with Charlie and Jo over it.

Sam: Sam feels guilty when he allows a nest of vampires who have a vendetta against him for misdeeds he supposedly committed against then during his soulless years to distract him from the main mission of helping to save the angels and to defeat Michael.

Gabriel: Gabriel is dealing with some trauma over his imprisonment by Asmodeus but he devises a plan to save the angels from extinction.

Annika (an OC): Annika is Gabriel’s Nephilim daughter whom he has kept a secret all this time.

Jack: Jack is trapped in the apocalypse world but when he is reunited with Castiel and the others, he joins in the plan to save the angels.

Apocalypse!Charlie: Charlie is the leader of a clan of human resistance members who have been fighting against Michael and his angels since the apocalypse broke out.

Apocalypse!Hannah: Hannah defied Raphael by helping humans that the archangel was holding in a concentration camp. When she was found out, she and Apocalypse!Castiel was tortured and, at least she thought, Apocalypse!Castiel was killed. Now a shell shocked Hannah has nothing but hatred for her fellow angels and she doesn’t know how to trust anyone, she has some very strong PTSD and trauma.

Apocalypse!Jo: Jo was one of the humans living in Raphael’s concentration camps. She was helped by Hannah, and later liberated by Charlie. She’s Charlie’s right-hand woman and life on the run has hardened her.

Apocalypse!Eileen: Eileen is the more well adjusted of the four women, but that’s because her parents were already gone when the apocalypse broke out and she had already been on her own all her life. She and Charlie are the techies in group. She’s endured some torture of her own at the hands of angels and she’s gotten very good at coming up with weapons to kill them with.

Claire Novak: Claire joins the effort much to Dean and later to Castiel’s chagrin.

#Castiel #Castiel/Hannah #supernatural #fics #supernatural fanfiction #dark themes #HannahGirl

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