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writing-the-end · 4 years

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LoL Chapter 19- Exhaustion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

On their way to lunch, the hermits are attacked. Jealousy rages within the guilds that are losing, but the hermits are unable to fight back. Will they even make it to the event in time?

___________________________________________

“We make a great team, that paper birdy didn’t even know what happened to it.” Tango laughs, grabbing Grian into a headlock and playfully nuzzling his fist into the golden locks. His body aches, and he feels weak, but prideful. The other hermits around them chatter excitedly, walking down the smooth, clean roads of the noble district. Even the canals of swampwater are tiled and cleaned of dirt and debris. Streets Mumbo knows well- he grew up here. So of course he took the chance to go to his favorite cafe.

“I’d say I’m happy with bronze, but I really wanted to beat that Mitch guy. Plus, pirates always love gold.” Cleo hums, looking at the medal around her neck. Of course, she’ll always take beating some 30 other guilds to get this medal, their moans and complaints of being beat in the wrestling challenge. She rubs her wrist, wincing. “Though I’ll admit, I haven’t felt this burnt out from magic in years. It’s like that one event sucked it all out of my body.”

“I feel that way every time I step into the ring.” Tango states, earning a nod from Grian as well. “After day one, I could hardly get out of bed. I felt like a dragon was sitting on my chest.” A few others murmur agreement, and the conversation stops. Not for long, thanks to Grian.

“Scar, Mumbo, are you two ready to show everyone your skills?” Grian grins, fluttering to the front of the group.

“I was born ready for the creative event. I’ve been dreamin’ about this since I was a boy.” Scar sighs, feeling giddy. He’s already got an idea in mind, building and creating within his own head.

“I...I’m not so sure. Can’t someone else step in for me? I don’t think I can get my magic to work well enough, much less to beat the others like you all have.” Mumbo’s terrified. He wishes he had the confidence that Scar just exudes. He has no clue what he’ll build. He’s not even sure if his magic will appear today.

“You’ve got it, man.” Doc appears beside him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t doubt yourself, otherwise I’ll take control and make you believe.” Mumbo freezes, smiling weakly. He’s not sure if he should be comforted or not by Doc’s offer.

He turns, eyes glimmering upon setting his gaze on the cafe. He came here all the time when he was younger, before he joined the hermits. He would come here to study, to relax, sometimes just to get his favorite tea from the shop. Being back here is strange, the nostalgia mixing with nerves. What would his friends think of this place? Are they out of the normal? Doc and Grian definitely are.

Mumbo reaches out, grabbing the door’s wrought iron handle. His hand goes right through the metal, iron warping and wiggling like air in the summer heat. “What in the…”

The ripples cascade out, across the air and townhouses. The mosaics shatter before reforming, and the entire street is empty. But the hermits aren’t alone. “You freaks think you own this place, don’t you? That you’re anything like us? That you can just waltz into the noble district because you’ve won the past two days?”

Doc immediately summons his magic, ready for a fight. More than a dozen other mages appear from the illusion. Torn shoulder pauldrons, glistening with gold spikes, announces them being from the Guild of Gedeon. A council guild. Behind Doc, he can hear other hermits drawing their circles, blues and yellows shimmering off the illusion they're trapped in. “Let us go, you’re messing with the wrong guild.”

“Ohoho, win a couple of events and suddenly you think you’re a guild? No, no.” A burly man with feral eyes stares down Doc, shoving him and Cleo towards Scar and Mumbo. “You’re messing up everything. I don’t know why Magistrate Dolios let scum mar such a prestigious event.”

“Maybe it’s because he realized ‘scum like us’ are better at magic than you. Didn’t want the crowd to get bored of the same old dopey outfits and subpar spells.” Cleo’s words have hardly crossed her lips before fists collide with them, sending her splayed across the ground. Doc needs no further initiative, activating his circle and taking control of the mage that struck his friend. His eyes close, and open again looking at himself. Ugh, this body smells. He turns around, meaty hands instead crashing into the Gedeon’s own guildmembers. Three fly out of the illusion, out of the bubble that traps them where no one can watch the fight. Beneath another, the ground opens up beneath her to reveal hellfire. The flames claw at her feet, dragging her into the open chasm. Swallowing her up.

Doc is thrown out of his puppet, head spinning and blood pooling from his own nose. Grian’s shout rings in his ear, making his head spin and splinter. He looks up, seeing the magical bludgeon disappear like a ghost from a Gedeon member. “You’re gonna regret messing with us. Messing with the order of things. You don’t belong here, none of you do.”

The illusioner stoops low, snapping his meaty fingers and nodding the gang forward. “And we’ll show you why you don’t mess with the Council. The wrath of the Guild of Gedeon is not something you walk away from.”

The fight is intense. Six hermits against about a dozen combatants. What’s worse, the Guild of Gedeon is an offensive group. When the arcane guard can’t do a job, when a strongarm is needed, the Gedeons are the first in line. Cleo holds her own, blood boiling under her dead green skin. Her sword doesn’t back down from a fight, and neither does the poltergeists she summons to aid in the attack. She’s exhausted, but that doesn’t stop her from being in the middle of the battle. Doc jumps from person to person, tapping into their magic and turning it back onto their own teammates. Scar does his best to protect Doc in the process, throwing up walls of rock only for them to be crushed by a volatile spell shot their way.

But they aren’t winning. Cleo and Doc’s attacks aren’t enough to stave off the fights and fragments of magic flown their way. Tango’s magic is all but gone, sapped from his body. Where did it all go? He had it all this morning, and the bird chase event couldn’t have been enough for him to lose it all! Even worse, Grian’s magic sputtered and died halfway through his attack. Mumbo peeks out from behind Scar’s barrier, hissing with pain as a bolt of hot rock is flung against his forehead. “Grian, what in the world is going on with your magic?”

“I...I don’t know, Mumbo!” He flicks his wrists, but nothing happens. His arms snap in a quick dance, and he does manage to summon his spell. The wind is hardly more than a summer breeze in his hair. “It’s not there, I’m drained of magic, of energy! But how, I hardly used anything!”

“It’s like you’re me!” The four hiding behind the wall are crushed as the rocks collapse. Trapped, unable to fight off the onslaught. Scar can only block the worst attacks, but bruises and cuts blossom across the hermits.

Until the bell of the capitol building tolls a single time. As quickly as the fight started, it stops. Scar lowers his walls and arm, brushing the blood from his cheek. Immediately, he searches for his friends. Doc struggles to his feet, ready to fight. But Cleo, Grian, and Tango look like they’ve been fighting for hours. They’re completely out of magic, skin pale and eyes glazed with weakness. Something is very wrong. Is there a suppressor mage here? No, that would affect everyone. Mumbo scrabbles backwards, wrist hanging limp. “Good luck getting to check in for the rest of the events, freaks. We’ll see who’s in the labyrinth event now.”

The illusion drops, and the busy street returns. Bustling crowds, horse-drawn carriages and carts passing by the hermits. As alone as when they first arrived at the cafe. People step around them, glancing at the battered group but never offering help. Scar gasps, wobbling to his feet. “The competition! Mumbo, we’re going to be late!” He pulls Mumbo to his feet.

“You guys go ahead.” Doc growls, sitting down on a pile of rubble. He rubs blood off of his cheek. “I don’t think the others can get up. They’re too weak.”

“What caused that? How could Grian not use his magic?” He’s an S-Class, he has ultimate control of his magic. But he acted like he was...well, Mumbo. And now? Now his friends are hurt. They lost the fight- no, they were thrashed. And he wasn’t even able to do anything.

“I don’t know, but I have a sneaking suspicion who the dark mage is now.” Doc waves the two off, before snarling. “Go! I’ve got the others!” And he’ll be sure Gedeon’s leader, that monster Sidero, gets a taste of what he just did to his friends. He must be the dark mage, trying to stop them.

But as Doc watches Mumbo and Scar flee, and he helps Grian, Tango, and Cleo to their feet, he’s only made them angrier.

_____________________________

“How am I...gah, how am I supposed to take a giant cat statue and make it move?” Mumbo hisses, looking up at the relief. Scar’s winning sculpture for the creative event was incredible. He could practically see every hair and whisker of Jellie, carved from stone using her owner’s terraforming magic. Even her wings are feathered, each barb as thin and interlocking as the real thing. It’s easy to see why Scar won the creative contest, hands down.

And here he is ruining it all with his own magic. The council really outdid themselves, pulling a twist like this. His magic falters, and the redstone dust collapses to the ground. Mumbo’s chest feels heavy, lungs pressed and heart clenching. His head feels dizzy, and his magic is nearly impossible to tap into. Surely this is all just nerves? But even Scar looked exhausted, like he was struggling to breathe, to stand after his magic. Exactly what Grian and Tango looked like.

What’s happening? He can’t help but look over his shoulder. Other guilds are working on the creations their teammates created. Whatever was before them, they had to automate. And from what Mumbo can see, most others are well ahead of him. Especially Ian, deep in the bowels of the contraption Sky had built. He can be heard swearing, the conductive gold making his machine move when he doesn’t want it to. At least Mumbo doesn’t have to worry about that.

But that doesn’t mean he can do it. The redstone dust falls apart, showering the ground beneath him. He’s going to disappoint everyone, he’s going to ruin Scar’s wonderful statue. He’s going to be the only wizard in this event that can’t even get the thing to move! He falls to his knees, the pressure mounting in his lungs. Making it hard to breathe, crushing in on him. And he’s exhausted, even though he’s barely used any of his magic. He can’t even get it to appear. Like always. All this work, all his hopes to win, will mean nothing if he can’t get his magic to summon. He’s a multi-mage, but he can never prove it. He can never show off his powers, and it’s exactly why he could never join any guild. Looking around, he can see all the guilds in the field he applied to. All of them said no, laughed in his face and ridiculed him when his magic failed to show itself. And now here he is, proving them all right. Making a laughing stock of the Order of Hermits.

“You can do it, Mumbo!” He picks his head up, looking around. He doesn’t recognize that voice. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not coming from any of the hermits. The voice is loud, echoing over the crowd’s low roar. It’s Ecto, one of the wanderers. Beside her, the other two teammates are cheering him on as well. Red’s practically bouncing in his seat, about to fall over the railing as he yells as loud as possible.

More voices join them. He can hear Iskall, shouting for him to breathe, to remember his training. He can hear some sort of soliloquy being written across the sky, intertwined with Joe’s voice. Zedaph and Impulse are holding up a sign, nearly knocking False and Wels with the board. Even the rest of Team Crafted was cheering for him. TFC is watching Mumbo, blue eyes gazing through silvery hair. He gives a small nod and a smile, his own way of showing his encouragement.

All of the hermits are his family, the family he never had. A family that would support him, help him, be with him no matter what. That never gave up on him. And TFC was like the father he never had, with a calm voice as smooth as obsidian and as strong as diamond. Someone he could go to with all his fears and faults, and know he wouldn’t be ridiculed or put down. That TFC would listen, and offer sound advice. Advice he can hear echoing in his head now. “It isn’t about the amount of times you fall down, Mumbo. It’s about how many times you get back up.”

So he gets back up again. He brushes the sand and dirt off the black fabric of his trousers, ignoring the physical pain in his chest and the unwieldy way his head spins. He closes his eyes, hand outstretched. In his mind, he can see his magic circle. The ninety degree turns ending in dots, the petal-like curls from the center. His hands move unconsciously, following the pattern of motions he created. It’s like ramming open a door, trying to find his magic. Trying to connect to it. But once he’s in, it washes all over his body.

He opens his eyes, his circle cast and the redstone moving to his bidding. Climbing up and ingraining in the pores of Scar’s stonework, following lines weathered through the rock. Lightning shoots through the circuits, from his fingertips and breathing energy into the cat. The haunches of the massive statue move, toe beans uprooting from the sand as Jellie comes to life. Redstone dances across her granite tail, flicking side to side. Mumbo can’t help but laugh, knocked over into the sand by a giant stone cat head rubbing into his chest. Scar’s incredible creation, brought to life with his redstone magic. Given energy through his lightning.

Statue Jellie opens it’s mouth to meow, but no sound comes out. She turns her head, gazing across the crowd surrounding her. Her eyes stop at the crown seat, where the Council sits in awe. Redstone turns on all across her body, his magic branching out onto each hair as it rises and her back arches. “Whoa, what’s all that about?”

Mumbo has never seen Jellie hiss at anyone, and even if this stone statue is just a version of her, his magic seems to have brought her to life. And her eyes are as thin as paper, ears turned back and hissing as she faces the Council. Mumbo runs over to the massive kitty, trying to calm her down. Lightning spreads across the redstone, forcing the stone statue to calm. For a second, Mumbo swears he can hear Magistrate Dolios’s voice, though his head is swimming from exhaustion. “Well done, boy. What i wouldn’t give for such...raw power. Soon.”

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years

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Help From the Other side

Genre: Ghost!AU, Supernatural!AU

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

A/N: So, I was technically going to write something for Ravi, but the sudden urge to write for Baekhyun came over me and... well this happened.

It was happening again. The strange noises, pencils rolling across the perfectly flat table without assistance, books being moved from you’d put them. This always seemed to happen whenever you came to the library and yet no one else had these same experiences. No one else complained or whispered about a possible haunting of this place. Maybe you were just going crazy. That’s right. It was simply the stress of your upcoming exams that was making you crack.

Another factor that didn’t help was how late you tended to stay.

As the sun went down, the happenings became spookier. At one point you could have sworn you felt a cool breath on your neck, but there was not a single soul near when you whirled around. By now, you were weighing the options: to go back to your room where it was less like a horror movie or stay here and put in more studying where you could have a possible breakdown.

The yawn answered for you. It was the fifth one in less than ten minutes. If you stayed too much longer you’d end up spending the night between the bookshelves because you wouldn’t have the energy to walk back to your apartment.

Gathering up your textbooks and writing utensils, you made sure you didn’t leave anything behind before throwing your bag over your shoulder and heading for the front.

“Don’t go.”

You reeled around, your gasp echoing around you. But the space was as barren of other life as it had been before. Everyone else had left nearly an hour ago. Even though the library stayed open later at this point in the semester, no one else was taking advantage of it. Or they were being smart and not overdoing it like you clearly were.

Barely five seconds had gone by when you turned back around that the voice came again.

“Can you hear me?”

You nearly knocked over the large wooden shelf closest to you when you jumped. “Who’s there?” you called out in a voice louder than what was considered appropriate for a library. “Stop playing around and show yourself!”

At first, all was still. No one peeked out from the other aisles to tell you that this was all a joke to be caught on camera. An elaborate joke, to be sure, if it were one. The air turned cold, making you shiver. But the sound of the air conditioner kicking on made you relax. You were only hearing things. The quietness of the library mixed with your lack of sleep was causing mild hallucinations. Nodding to yourself in the satisfaction of your explanation, you turned back around.

Then you screamed.

Not even two feet from you, a boy came out of nowhere. You stumbled back to get away, landing hard on your backside. The boy reached out to try and catch you, but his fingers slipped right through your wrist. The instinct to get away kicked into high gear and you scrambled to hide behind one of the chairs.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the boy scoffed, clearly offended.

You leaned out from behind the heavy wooden chair that probably wouldn’t grant much protection. “And how am I supposed to know that?”

“I haven’t don’t anything yet, have I?” He had the audacity to cross his arms and look rather smugly at you as he waited for an answer.

Perhaps it was a ruse to get you to lower your guard. And it worked.

You emerged from behind your safe spot, fists on your hips. “So it was you who’s been causing all the weird things to happen to me lately?”

The boy grinned broadly, moving his hands behind his back and leaning towards you. “Pretty scary, huh?”

The logical side of your brain knew it was pointless if this boy really was a ghost, but that didn’t stop you from tossing the paperback dictionary sitting in the middle of the table. As to be expected, it went right through him, though he did flinch at the object aimed for his head.

“Now that wasn’t very nice?” he pouted. You were barely able to ignore the way his cheeks puffed out and the pucker of his lips. It was a childish expression and yet he was pulling it off.

Ghosts weren’t supposed to look like he did. With his chestnut hair and soft features, he was- dare you think it? Yes, you do. Handsome. He was handsome. In a strange, youthful-like way. The constant smile in his eyes, even when pouting, was refusing to fade the slightest bit. Perhaps he was only looking that way to make you relax around him and that wasn’t his true form. But that didn’t feel true.

“Well, neither was making me think I was going crazy!” you argued back. “Or that I was being haunted by a poltergeist.” Although… he did have the mischievous air of one. So that possibility couldn’t be completely ruled out. You didn’t think poltergeists were supposed to look like normal college students, but your references were the movies, so you weren’t exactly an expert.

The boy deflated with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been trying to get someone to see me.”

You frowned. “Isn't that the opposite of what a ghost is supposed to do? I mean, that is what you are, right? A ghost?”

“Why wouldn’t a ghost want to be seen?” the boy asked, confirming your other question in a roundabout way. Really, he was probably too old for you to keep thinking of him in that term, but his aura had a youthfulness to it that call him “the man” didn’t feel right. “It’s lonely being like this.”

“So you wanted… a friend?” The idea was cute enough to giggle at, but the action didn’t feel appropriate. It was a natural instinct to want to not be alone in some capacity. And, sure, it was probably depressing to be in such a state.

“Sort of.” Reaching up, he scratched the area underneath his ear nervously. “Really, I need someone to help me move on.”

“Move on?”

He nodded. “I don’t want to stick around this campus for the rest of forever. There is another side to all of this. I’d like to see it. Besides, if I don’t, then I might disappear all together.”

“What makes you say that?”

The boy lifted up the left leg of his jeans to show a faded calf. While the rest of him was solid, this part was clearly starting to fade away.

“That’s not fair!” you exclaimed. “It's not your fault that you’re stuck here!”

“I know!” he said. “Can you imagine? Someone handsome like me ceasing to exist? It's a tragedy.”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you shook your head. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that and agree to help you.”

“Really? Thank you!” He lunged at you for a hug. However, he ended up tripping right through you. He blew a raspberry out from his lips as you turned to him, snickering. “Okay, that’s going to get annoying fast.”

“Part of being a ghost,” you said in a not-so sympathetic manner.

He stuck his tongue out at you then sighed. “One problem at a time, I guess. I’m Baekhyun, by the way.”

“(y/n),” you introduced back.

Baekhyun smiled widely. “It’s nice to meet and be seen by you, (y/n). I’m lucky to have a cute partner in this.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be affected by his words. Or, at least, mostly unaffected. “So,” you put your hands on your hips, “how do we help you move on?”

“No idea.”

Fantastic. Looking around the library, you got an idea. Where else would be a better place to start researching? You headed for the computer station to try and find the section that would help you the most: spiritual non-fiction.

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun asked, panicked.

Over your shoulder, you grinned, “To research. Like a real ghost hunter.”

He scoffed. “Please. I’m pretty sure I was the one who hunted you down.”

“It’s better than calling myself an exorcist,” you shrugged.

Thinking about it for a second, he nodded. “You're right. We’ll stick with hunter.” He ran past you like a giddy child. “Let’s get to searching!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at just how goofy this ghost was. Nothing like you would have described a few hours ago. So, you followed after him. What an adventure this was going to be.

#exo #exo ghost au #exo ghost!au #baekhyun x reader #byun baekhyun #exo oneshot #exo scenarios #exo supernatural au #exo imagines #exo request #kpop #fluff #ghost au #Help From the Other Side

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

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This Isn’t A Ghost Story - Chapter 1

Whouffaldi non-canon AU. 8 chapters, will be about 32,000 words when complete. Rated Mature for heavier themes in later chapters, please contact me privately if you’re worried about triggering topics. Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor. Mystery, pining and angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same username and title. Updates every Friday.

This Isn’t A Ghost Story

Chapter 1: The House

14 November 2014, London

There was a certain amount of irony, Clara reflected, that her first reaction was I’m going to kill him.

Her ‘special friend’ had just cost her the sale of her late grandmother’s house. Again. This had to be roughly the twelfth adorable family or nice couple that had stepped into her ancestral family home only to turn tail and run before they’d even had a chance to hear about the antique hardwood floors or the fully restored kitchen. At this point, he wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore.

The longer the house sat on the market, the fewer calls she was getting to schedule walk-throughs of the property. She was beginning to worry that word of the house’s strangeness was getting around the local real estate community. If things kept up at this rate, she was going to end up permanently saddled with an inheritance whose tax burden she could barely afford, in the form of a one hundred and thirty year old, gorgeous, sprawling, haunted house.

Clara used her key to let herself in through the ornate front door, grumbling under her breath. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the cabinets in the kitchen began to rattle ominously.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, dropping her purse and keys on the small table in the foyer. “It’s just me.”

The door to one of the bedrooms upstairs slammed shut.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands and counted to ten before looking up again. “Listen, I get that you’re cross with me for bringing people by, but I am beyond livid with you, so let’s skip the part where I yell and you throw things and just agree to be angry with each other in silence, okay?”

The house went quiet in a manner entirely too creepy for her liking. If not for the undercurrent of petulant passive-aggressiveness, she might have actually been scared.

Not that Clara had ever really been scared of the ghost that lived in her Gran’s house. He had never once made her feel unsafe, not since she’d first spoken to him as a small child. But the sudden silence was still unnerving.

“Well, good,” she said into the preternatural stillness, more to prove to herself that she wasn’t scared than anything else. “It’s nice to actually be able to hear myself think, for a change.”

The top step of the staircase creaked once, as if to make a point.

“Still shut up,” she grumbled.

She went about the short list of tasks she’d come to see to, putting away the food she’d set out for the potential home buyers, watering the plants, closing the curtains, and flicking on a few lamps to make the house look lived-in. Of course, she didn’t envy anyone who tried to break into the house while it sat apparently empty. At some level, a poltergeist was better home protection than a dog could ever be.

Her chores complete, Clara returned to the foyer to find her purse where she’d left it, but her keys conspicuously missing. She sighed, hands on her hips, and turned towards the cold spot she could feel forming near the foot of the stairs. He was nothing but a faint wispy outline in the direct light of the setting sun filtering through the stained glass window over the front door, but even that outline was familiar enough that Clara was able to find his eyes and fix him with a displeased glare.

“Where are my keys?” she demanded. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his behaviour earlier, and she was in no mood to play find-the-lost-trinket tonight.

“I didn’t want you to leave before I could apologise,” the ghost said, not quite meeting her gaze. His voice raised gooseflesh along her arms, as usual, but she much preferred the low rumble of his Scottish brogue to the slamming of doors and rattling of cupboards. Not that she would ever openly admit that to him.

“So apologise and tell me where you’ve hidden my keys!”

“Clara,” he said, and she clenched her teeth against the shivery reaction she always had to the way he said her name, like it had been invented just so he could say it. There were days when she lived for that rush — and many, many lonely nights, in her love-struck teenaged years — but today was absolutely not one of them.

“...Was there more to that sentence?” she asked when he didn’t go on. “Saying my name does not constitute an apology.”

He glanced up at her, looking increasingly solid as the sunlight waned. “I’m sorry I upset you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, your intention was to make certain I can’t sell this house, and don’t bother to deny it.”

He chewed his incorporeal lip for a moment, then shrugged. “I won’t deny it. I don’t want you to sell the house. But I’m still sorry I upset you.”

Clara sighed. “I have to sell it. You know this. And someday, someone too brave or too stupid to fall for all your clattering will decide to buy this place, and that’ll be that.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, his eyes glinting blue in the gathering dusk.

“It’s the reality of the situation, so you’d best start making peace with it,” she said evenly. Another irony not lost on her: arguing the state of reality with a man dead nearly a century. “Now, where are my keys?”

Her ghost hesitated. “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “You could stay?”

“I never stay the night in this house. That was your advice to me, more than twenty years ago. No sense in breaking with tradition.”

“I think maybe I was being overly paranoid at the time.”

“And I think maybe you’re acting like a lonely old man now,” Clara snarked back.

“Alone in a house that you of all people are dead-set on evicting me from? I can’t imagine why I’d be lonely!”

“It’s not like you’re stuck here! You’re not tied to the house, you can go anywhere you want!”

“But it’s my house!”

“Keys, now!” she snapped. “Traffic is already going to be horrendous—”

“All the more reason to stay,” he said petulantly.

“But,” she went on forcefully, speaking over him, “tomorrow’s Saturday, so I have the day off work. If you tell me where my keys are, I’ll come back first thing in the morning. I still need to finish going through all those old boxes in the attic. We can spend the day working on that together, okay?”

“You’re going to drive all the way home only to turn around and come back in the morning? Why not just—”

“Or I could spend the day doing something fun with people my own age, very far away from here,” she bluffed. “Your choice.”

“Oh, fine,” he said, shoulders sagging. “Your keys are hidden in the parlour, I’ll show you where.”

“Thank you,” she said mildly, and followed him into the next room.

As promised, Clara arrived back at her grandmother’s house early the next morning, take-away coffee cup in hand. There had been a moment, whilst she stood in the queue to order, when she’d found herself thinking she ought to get two coffees, bring her ghost a peace offering to smooth over their row from the night before. Thankfully she’d realised how ridiculous that sounded before it was her turn to order, but she still felt strangely off balance as she unlocked the front door and let herself in, like she had forgotten something important.

“Hey,” she called to the empty house, as soon as she closed the door behind her. “It’s just me, no need to go rattling the hinges on my account.”

Her ghost appeared in a shadowy corner of the foyer, smiling at her shyly. “Good morning, my Clara,” he said. “You look lovely today. Have you had a wash?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to ignore the somersaulting of her heart at the way he said her name. My Clara. “Why are you being nice?”

“Because it works on you,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “And because I really am sorry about yesterday,” he added.

“Well, apology accepted,” Clara said. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. The process of selling this place has been entirely too stressful, and I’m really starting to worry it won’t happen before the property taxes are due,” she sighed.

He ran a semi-transparent hand through the short curls at the back of his head, the ring he wore on his left hand briefly catching the light. “Yeah, about that...”

She winced. “What did you do?”

“The post came early today,” he said, voice even more apologetic than before. “I didn’t open it, but one of the envelopes has a rather official looking return address. I put it on the dining room table for you.”

She left her keys and purse on the table by the door and trudged off to the dining room, unable to contain her groan when she saw the envelope in question. Opening it, she found that he was right: property taxes were due in six weeks, the total even higher than she had anticipated. It was more than she made in a month at her teaching job. Even with the small amount she had stashed away in savings, she would hardly be able to pay it and the rent on her flat, and still expect to feed herself.

“What about the rest of your inheritance?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

“I put it all into fixing up this place to sell,” she said.

“Which I’ve made impossible,” he murmured.

Clara covered her face with her hands, trying not to cry and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Yes, he was the reason she hadn’t been able to sell the house to any of the dozen or so buyers who had shown initial interest. But he was also the only one in her life who even knew or cared what she was going through.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she told him honestly, still hiding behind her hands. “If I don’t pay it, they’ll just add late fees on top of that already ridiculously large sum. If I can’t sell the house soon...”

She felt a cold touch drift across the back of her hands, felt her hair stir in a nonexistent breeze, and wished, not for the first time in her life, that her ‘special friend’ was the sort of friend who could offer a hug when she so desperately needed one.

“I don’t suppose there’s a secret stash of diamonds in the attic?” she asked him, only half joking. “Or a map to buried treasure?”

“You are descended from a line of exceptionally adventuresome women,” he replied, voice sounding distant and thoughtful. “I haven’t been up to the attic in years. I don’t know what all is in there, but anything is possible.”

Clara dropped her hands from her face and squared her shoulders, not looking at her ghost until she was certain she wouldn’t spontaneously burst into tears. “Well, let’s hope there’s something up there that will help.”

The attic had never been Clara’s favourite place in her Gran’s house, cramped and dusty and full of ancient boxes that gave off a far creepier vibe than the literal ghost had ever managed to do. But on the plus side, it was also windowless, dim enough that he was able to appear to her in a fairly solid state and even move lightweight objects as though he were a real person existing in the real world.

She had removed the larger pieces from the attic weeks ago, furniture and blanket chests and trunks of old clothing, all sorted through and donated to charity or brought back to her flat, or else restored to the best of Clara’s ability and set out to decorate the house in a manner befitting its age. All that remained were boxes of keepsakes, photographs and journals and old letters, small family things that required far more of her attention to sort through.

Despite the lingering threat of the taxes due, it was a pleasant morning, sitting together amidst the papers and dust, slowly uncovering the history of her family, layer on layer, like an archaeologist digging through levels of sediment. Her Gran had spent her entire life in this house, from the time she was a baby, used it as a homebase during her adventurous youth, married and raised her own daughter in it, and continued to live in it after her husband died. The boxes that littered the attic bore witness to all those many decades.

“Oh my god, these photos of Mum,” Clara said, turning the yellowed album towards her ghost so he could see them, in all their early 1970s glory. “She must have been, what, about fifteen in these?”

“Ellie’s first formal school dance,” he confirmed, leaning in to examine the photos. “With that older boy, I forget his name. Your grandfather did not approve.”

Clara snorted. “Can’t say I blame him. Look at those sideburns. I’m not sure I would have let her go out with him at all.”

“They had a huge row about it, if I remember correctly. In the end, your grandmother took your mother’s side, and she was allowed to go.”

“Why didn’t you ever appear to any of them?” she asked, flipping through the pages and pausing to linger on what looked to be polaroids of a rugby game. “You were here all that time, but you never talked to anyone until I came along?”

He shrugged. “You were the only one that was you.”

“Thanks. That clears it right up.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got,” he objected.

“I scared the daylights out of Mum and Gran when I told them about you, I was probably all of six years old at the time.”

“Five, I think,” he said quietly.

“God, five. I might have a heart attack if my five year old started talking very confidently about her special friend the ghost that lives at Gran’s house.”

“I seem to remember advising you against telling them.”

“And in all the time you’ve known me, when have I ever taken your advice?” she asked archly.

“Hmm. There was that one time you actually listened to me, about that chap you were dating, what’s-his-name.”

Clara winced, remembering it all too well. “I thought we agreed never to speak of him again.”

“Gladly,” her ghost replied emphatically.

She shook her head, more than happy to dismiss the subject. “As a child it didn’t make sense to me not to tell Mum and Gran about you. You live in Gran’s house, the house where Mum grew up, I just assumed they already knew about you. I mean, why wouldn’t they?”

“I’m not sure I could have talked to them, even if I’d wanted to. And I never did want to.”

Clara turned her gaze to him, studying his face in the dimness. Without direct sunlight, he looked almost human, almost alive, the blue of his eyes and the salt and pepper of his hair appearing so very real, so very close at hand. He still seemed as ageless to her now as he had when she was a child. Ageless and ancient, wise and funny, solemn and sardonic. She thought perhaps she knew his face better than any other, living or dead.

“But why didn’t you ever want to talk to them?” she pressed.

“Why do you need a key to enter the house?” he asked in response.

She felt her eyebrows come together in consternation. “Because the door is locked.”

“But why that key?”

“Because... that’s the key that fits. That’s the key that goes with that lock.”

He shrugged, most of his attention on the page of the journal he’d been perusing. “You are the key that fits. I can’t give you a better answer than that.”

Chapter 2: The Box

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara/Twelfth Doctor #Twelfth Doctor #Clara Oswald #Clara and the Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story chapters #my writing #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!

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dise7se · 4 years

Text

threshold

by: @spideysforce (7k)

rating: general/teen and up audiences

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, peter parker & mj & johnny storm & gwen stacy

characters: peter parker, tony stark, michelle jones, johnny storm, gwen stacy, & ned leeds

summary:

peter: 17, a little shit camper, teenager, about to leave for college and it’s the end of summer

tony: a tired, 27 year old man, turns into a teeangers dad

buzzfeed unsolved au, a msyterious warehouse at summer camp, and found family

leave comments and kudos on ao3

When Peter first got to camp, it was tortuous. It felt like aunt May was sending him for some kiddie math camp, for fuck’s sake, he was 17.

Stark Camp was an elite stem camp, only the brightest minds arrived here, no matter what their demographic, income, or social status. He applied, or was forced to apply by May, to work on robotics projects whilst there. To Peter’s absolute horror, whoever this billionaire trust-fund guy Stark was, was his camp counselor.

His fucking camp counselor.

Peter heard about the first summer camp session, he was participating in the second, which started at the beginning of August. His friends came back home to Queens from Stark camp, a ghost rattling in the old shell of their bodies, their soulless eyes begging for reprieve, the dark circles under their eyes indicating their primal instinct for victory in the camp competitions, to impress the mysterious genius billionaire they so desperately wanted to rob.

He spent the entirety of the summer trying to escape the camp, it was like everyday Mr. Stark (no, he won’t call him anything else,) targeted him only, saw some sort of promise in him, but he’d merely point to his friends and take the burden of being recognized off of him. May’s math camp. No. He can’t be noticed here, because maybe they’ll start talking about college, and how to prepare for college. Yuck.

Not that Peter was avoiding going to college, of course he’s applying. But it’s summer. His last summer before college, he needs to go out with a bang. Not some nerd camp in upstate New York. At least MJ is here. He’s 99% sure she joined to make fun of everyone’s projects, be condescending, and cause as many issues as she can while simultaneously keeping productivity to the bare minimum by scaring everyone. Yeah, that’s MJ right there.

He peeked back at her from over his shoulder and away from his robotics equipment during their scheduled tech building time, she sat at the table behind him to talk to the group about, 10 minutes ago, Peter forgot while he secretly executed Plan Ghouls, (yes MJ named it), while Tony oversaw everyone in the recreation center at camp, and maybe it’s because the Stark family is fucking rich they don’t deserve any money at all, this building looks way too nice to be here.

It was like Tony Stark, this billionaire who is barely even 30 years old, was fucking with him, Peter Parker personally. Did he enjoy tormenting his group? He acted warily around MJ, like finding a wire in a maze leading to a fuse. He’d never seen anything more glorious; a nearly thirty year old man scared of a 17 year old. Peter analyzed the older man and concluded that he is an eight year old with the wisdom of an eighty year old.

Ned promised he’d call every single day of camp, and Peter thought he’d actually die without his best friend at camp, disintegrate on the spot like some formidable being pulling apart every atom, until he’s lost in the atmosphere, drifting away like he never existed. He missed his best friend, okay? Who else would he talk to about.. the thing, his weird spider senses, and possible crime he could stop from 100 miles away from Queens.

His guy on the computer had other plans for the end of the summer, his family was going to visit their cousins that Ned conveniently was ecstatic to go on, leaving Peter to rot and die alone in summer camp. A haunted summer camp.

Peter snuck another entire circuit board into his pocket. Morally, this is very wrong. He reprimands himself over it. But, technically, he paid for this with his camp fee?

He uses less equipment for his actual projects than.. their secret project. He will use the same amount of equipment, just one is not prohibited because he technically can’t make secret projects on the side that may or may not pertain to the spooky warehouse half a mile out that Tony Stark refuses to comment on.

“Hey!” MJ yells right beside his ear, and he fumbles the lego pieces he contemplated taking in his hands and screeches. She laughs, holding her side, “Did I scare you?”

Peter plasters the best glare he can on his face, “No, you didn’t, I just yawned.” She will not win, whatever contest she made up in her head for the…. ghost catching competition, he will be two steps ahead of her and he will win. No matter how many horror movies they watch, and no matter how scared he is of her when she has no reaction except for laughter during their movie nights in the woods at night with the rest of the camp.

Countdown to Plan Ghoul’s execution: 3 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes.

—

They became acquainted with the weird, annoying show-off Johnny the second week of camp. So, last week. Peter wouldn’t call Johnny his friend, maybe not even acquaintance, but Johnny wears ugly cargo pants and stuffs them with extra robotics lab equipment like beakers, (what the fuck do they need beakers for?), and somehow stuffed a Kit in his shirt. He’s sure Johnny is going to forget and sit down with a beaker in his pants and break his ass with glass.

MJ was the first to initiate the alliance at the beginning of camp. They’ve been here for the second half of their summer, so of course she devised a devious plan.

They both hated Johnny at first, and that is exactly why Peter watched MJ reel Johnny into their plans once they’re in the Stark Camp Lab. MJ acted dryly and sarcastically around everyone she hated, drawing her to Johnny and Peter suffered the consequences. Peter lost count of the amount of times Johnny showed off his projects to the camp counselors, not long after stealing parts from a group nearby. MJ watched, intrigued, and Peter would always end up with his head down on his desk. And MJ would follow suit with Tony’s back to them, she would gather up all of Johnny’s wrenches, bolts, his keychain, and he’s pretty sure she got an arm of the collaborative robot in the corner.

And then the next dewy morning, the humidity was too thick and their eyes were unable to open from the night before because Tony told a story about a demon coming to life at the campfire, it’s real Tony has totally seen it, MJ and Peter were on breakfast duty with the camp counselors. The smell of tinder reeked on their flannels, but Tony pulled out the chocolate chips the moment he arrived, the other camp counselors shot glares at him. Peter had to turn away to hide his snicker.

This is when they met Gwen. She was part of another camp counselors group, and the two of them had their hair done, Gwen had cool piercings, even one on her face, with a vinyl knapsack by her feet full of patches. Her camp counselor has an itinerary, and oh, my god, it’s laminated, and Peter’s eyes widen and he thinks his pupils turned into the shape of hearts. The last time he saw an itinerary and Tony did not lose them while hiking was the first day of camp. Gwen’s camp counselor, Jen, even brought snacks for all of them.

MJ propped herself up on a nearby table in the kitchen and Tony rambled on about how his father never sent him to camp, and if he knew he’d practically be a boy scout out here in the woods he might’ve considered it. Peter thinks he heard the man say he was working towards his bachelor degree at their age. What a weird guy.

Johnny walked in, and Jen, the cool camp counselor reads out his last name and it’s Storm?! Peter imagines Johnny is the type of guy to steal his hypothetical sister’s toys and bury them in his suburban backyard and blame it on ghosts, and of course he tells MJ this theory.

MJ flips pancakes on the stoves, the hiss of the pancake mix to heat loud enough to drown out her inconspicuous whispers Peter nearly drops his spatula from her blaring whisper, “I sketched a prototype and stole Tony’s pencil. Our first prototype is called the Poltergeist Machine.”

He lowers his shoulders and sends his best glare, snarling and pointing with his head at Tony who is two feet away and yelling at someone on the phone about the physics kit they needed for today. “Are you crazy?! Also, that’s the ugliest name I’ve ever heard.”

MJ snarls back and throws her arms up, “Okay, well maybe names are not my forte!” And when Peter mumbled maybe under his breath, he really did know from a sixth sense that her shove was coming. And his shoulder nudges into something, and ouchie, that hurt, and it’s fucking Tony, off the phone and staring at them with his eyebrow quirk. Peter thinks he practices it in the mirror every night before bed, like brushing his teeth. He does it every day. He had never seen the man’s reaction into Peter physically bumping into him, though they did like messing with him. He was their counselor, they were bound to test his boundaries to see how much it would take to get in trouble, they’re sweet teenagers and not heathens.

Tony did nothing, and awkwardly shoved him away when Peter just stared and gawked at him.

Johnny and Gwen talked about college with Tony, who stayed on his phone and muttering, “Yeah, kids, you’ll get in,” and, “sure, yeah, we can work out a letter of rec,” and Peter pondered over his inability to plan more than three minutes ahead and felt a drop low in his stomach, because in two weeks he’d be beginning his college applications for senior year.

He and Ned had their own college plan, to keep his guy in the chair nearby while he could vigilante his college town and get a physics degree. Ned gravitated toward an engineering degree or a journalism degree, he’d probably double major. That was the best plan they’ve made so far. This, and their plan ghoul, Ned had sent cryptic messages about the nearby warehouse being abandoned and never showing up on maps online. Ned had yelled very loudly over the phone to be careful because this might require Spider-Manning, and Peter yelled over his voice so nobody else could hear.

Johnny had glared at him from ten feet away in the field during that phone call and walked away.

And he looked at him the same way now. This little shit. I will get into college. Maybe I’ll get my own Tony letter of rec without showing off.

Peter knows what’s going to happen next when he turns to stomp away, his foot caught in the strap of MJ’s backpack she left thrown on the floor and sends him skidding. Geez. He hears metal clanking, and what the fuck, did he knock over a table or something? And MJ throws herself towards her backpack before his brain can connect her actions to conclusion, and there’s a robot hand skidding across the floor the same, resigned way he did.

The robot hand. The fucking robotic hand.

They’d have to face Mr. Stark’s wrath, and he feels like he’s entered Hell, forget the commandment and We should fear and love God so we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him and he hears the robotic and smash into the table and break, and Tony lunges at it like it’s some family heirloom that he intentionally broke.

“MJ!” He squeaks, like he hasn’t been through puberty and is nearly an adult. Johnny’s mouth falls open and he tugs on Gwen’s sleeve as if everybody here to cook breakfast wasn’t staring in awe, and he hears war cries from MJ demanding whoever planted these supplies come forward and reveal themselves or she’d send a witch to curse them.

It was like a 1995 school drama show, the pancakes burning on the stove and the unamused camp counselors fiddle with the ends of their shirts and Tony stares at the sight of devastation and MJ sheepishly smiles. Gwen is the first to break the silence, she snorts unattractively and covers her face. “Sorry. That was a little funny.”

Tony merely zeroed in his gaze on the two of them, hovering over them though he wasn’t much taller, attempting to humble them with his menacing face. He points two fingers at his eyes in the I’m watching you way, signaling his two fingers back to them. It’s not like they hadn’t witnessed Tony the day before steal the flags for their ‘capture the flag’ game because they kept losing.

Stem camp was camp, Peter woke up scrambled every day, usually covering his face from the morning sun when Tony would pound on the door and swing it open and let the morning sun blind him. He isn’t sure how he woke up MJ, but he always waits 15 minutes after he wakes up Peter, and he thinks he hears gentle knocks and a little, “Good morning!” before he takes off to begin his day with way too much caffeine and energy.

Tony, in all his glory, is a hot mess and begs his supervisor to let him join the kids’ activities, and she usually says no but he jumps into the lake, anyways, yelling at MJ and Peter to use life vests. The camp supervisor, Virginia Potts, is usually in leggings and a t-shirt or tank top, her strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail, and always has her clipboard in her arms with tidied stacks of paper. She is always smiling, is modulated and soothing, like honey in a comb in the sun. Whenever Peter runs into her, he immediately straightens his back and wonders if its worth borrowing the robotics equipment before they put it back for plan ghoul.

Pepper usually stands at the edge of the lake, a fixed gaze set on a floating Tony, her tin tucked in and her hip out. The first time Tony decided to ditch his camp counselor duties and join in with them and was approached by Pepper, he waved to her from the top of a rock enthusiastically. “Tony!” she exclaimed and everything she lectured him about seemed to go in one ear and come out the other.

“What is the number one rule of being a camp counselor, Mr. Stark?” Pepper had asked, while Tony striked Peter with a toy lightsaber they built that afternoon, and he nearly doubled over but was grabbed by the shoulders and held up by the menace in question. The weight of the saber wasn’t very heavy and it was made up of plastic, but Peter yanks the cool metal sword from his counselor’s arm. He’s never had any siblings and doesn’t know if Tony has either, but talking about baseball and college and physics having someone surprisingly grounding and comforting when he wandered off while hiking and busted his knee, for some reason Tony was good at first-aid.

“We totally deserve a team pet!” Peter huffed at the campfire, their group settling in after a round of night zip-lining.

“For God’s sake, we will not adopt a stray racoon for the team,” Tony yells from inside the cabin, bringing his stash of s’mores supplies he kept hidden and possibly explains the ants on the premise and not secured in the kitchen. “A mascot, maybe.”

“Please, this is Cranberry Lake, we do not need a pet to keep us from the ghosts,” Gwen declares, and before she can continue Peter screeches.

“So, you do admit there are ghosts!”

Tony shivers dramatically once he rejoins the group in front of the campfire and the fire crackles in his face. Peter gasps, and Tony turns in worry, fearing the fucking kid is fucking asphysxiating. “You see! Tony just shivered when you mentioned the ghosts.” “Lowering your voice won’t do anything, you dipshit!” Johnny unnecessarily adds, getting tossed by a marshmallow and being directed into the direction of the nearby trees to sit in timeout by the all-knowing being Tony who declared if they cussed anymore they’d be sent to timeout, the Goddamned Almighty.

“One more bad word out of you guys and next time you’re going to watch me swim in the lake, using all of your floaties while you watch from the dirt, wallowing in your own despair.”

“Can I go back to Jen’s group?”

“Absolutely not. You three are keeping me alive at camp as it is,” Tony informs them as if they hadn’t noticed the man was really an 8 year old in an adult’s body. “Even Pepper agreed. She says my campers keep me alive.”

Tony floats on his back in the outdoor pool, the cold water reflects the sun and Peter floats nearby on a yellow inflatable pool float with printed dandelions on it.

His friends chatter nearby, but his head leaning against the plastic floaty drowns the sound out. He hears his inner ear and hates it. Tony grunts, moving to grab his glass with juice and a small umbrella in it. This billionaire, the head of a company producing the world’s greatest and innovative technology was ridiculous.

“Queens is..” Peter starts their conversation again, afraid he’s too quiet and the older man didn’t hear him. “Queens is my home. May and Ben raised me there, and being away from it sucks. I can’t be there to help.”

MJ sits at the other end of the pool on the hot cement, gasping when she lowers her legs in. She sounds too far away to them, in their own little corner. He raises his head to see if Tony had even heard him, but he seemed sipped from his drink and hummed to himself.

He waited for an answer before he nearly blew his cover again.

“Hometown of Parker. On Long Island, Citi Field, and supposed home of a vigilante, I think,” Tony supplies an answer, and Peter thinks, shit, he knows, “Once, Spider-Man dropped a hot-dog on my head.”

Peter laughs, freely, and shit, act natural, Peter, because the older man that he trusts but can’t seem to get the words off his tongue, his identity reveal, he’s never wanted to tell anybody else. Ever. It was his responsibility, his alter-ego, but he trusts him, for some reason.

The earth aligned them together, and whatever brought them together doesn’t make any sense.

A mentor who understood him, who was a mere 10 years older than him, who had regrettably become friends with his Aunt May, and those two were forces in his life he wouldn’t know what to do without. Maybe that’s what happens when someone mentors you all summer and genuinely cares.

Tony was brilliant. Sure, him being here was confusing, but he wanted hands on experience in his company. Tony told them stories of the previous campers and which ones reminded Tony of them. When in the college application workshop the camp offered, he revised Peter’s papers and saw another piece of him on paper.

Tony Stark was caring, gentle, he was a walking encyclopedia, his skepticism had kept a barrier around him at the beginning of the summer, but slowly thawed out the more he lived. If words have had no weight his entire life, he’s owing it to every teenager here to keep his promises and Peter wonders if anyone has ever kept their promises to Tony. A glass barrier, built from sand and liquid and carefully molded to protect him and encase him.

Practically a kid when he lost his parents. Peter had read about it in the papers and saw news channels open every fragile wound on TV, and he remembers the news reporters surrounding Uncle Ben’s death.

He isn’t sure what else has the older man so guarded, but he knows they are slowly breaking the crystalline around him, his meddling heart wrapped around this camp and the brilliant minds. He knows Tony is good, past his cynicism is pure optimism, and is is an excessive coffee drinking, smells of motor oil and marshmallows, mentors anybody he can, and the damaged heart he hides, who makes special tech presents for the students, smudged ink on his hands from his blueprints, is good.

And Peter hopes he can model who he is after Tony. Spider-Man can strive to be someone like Tony, because the 27 year old understands what it means to invest in his community. And Queens is his home, he’s sure Tony will take care of it once he’s gone for college. Tony is human, he bleeds, he hurts, he doesn’t crack under pressure but quakes alone.

The man who emerges from the tech lab every morning at 6am because he forgot to sleep, yeah, that’s Peter’s mentor. How’d he get himself in this spot?

He turns back to Tony, “My uncle Ben used to tell me people are ugly, unlovable, they are their failures, but then they’d constantly prove him wrong. He wasn’t a pessimist, he was the opposite. But he saw the ugliness in New York, in Queens. But then he’d see sons hugging and kissing their mothers, he’d see local students building churches from scratch, and older siblings wiping their siblings’ tears when they played outside.”

Tony quirks a brow, but listens. He really listens, and he doesn’t know if he can finish. “He talked in constant epithets with our neighbors. Their gardens, his wisdom, and about how people always came together. Always.

“Maybe that’s who Spider-Man is trying to save, trying to represent in Queens. I think it’s what people like Ben would want to help. And I don’t want to leave, it’s my little sanctuary. This is the longest I’ve been away from Queens.”

Tony playfully flicked water towards Peter, who dodged it and splashed water back. He could be petulant, too. “I hope this spider-guy is watching over you in Queens. I know your Uncle Ben is. And I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but he really is. I remember my Ma used to visit me in my dreams at my worst times.

“I had no one to go to. My family was gone, and I wanted to do better. Be better. At my rock bottom, I was brought back up by my dad’s best friend. He stayed by my side since they died.. And when I found out he wanted to steal the company from me, I knew I could never let people like that taint more kids in the future in this field. In any field, really. I think I have a responsibility with this camp, and I know my mom would be proud of me. And I know your uncle will be proud, too, because I’ve got your back, too.”

The breath is knocked out of Peter, because oh fuck, this camp counselor who was unwilling to budge, had opened up and was vulnerable and was scared of being stabbed in the back but trusted him.

Tony cracks a smile, supine on his back over the water again in no time and drags the pool floaty with him after he kicks off the wall. They float over to the group, and the weight in Peter’s sternum subdues. An ache he forgot was there, learned to live with, and Tony’s words ring in his head the rest of the day. He tells May about it and never stops missing her.

Peter reached into his canvas duffle bag with the initials, ‘BFP,’ embroidered into it and found the white baseball jersey he last remembers seeing when he was twelve years old. His cabin is chilly today, so it must be cold outside. The sun hides behind the clouds so he shrugs a long sleeve shirt on, then the jersey.

They were going to play a game of baseball this morning, his muscles still aching from rock climbing and hiking the previous day. He was Spider-Man, he had a lot of endurance, but he hadn’t been exercising for a while. He missed feeling this; feeling fatigued but not from a night out as a vigilante. He and MJ climbed the rocks at least three separate times, their ropes clipped snugly to their bodies and Tony had reached the top to tie their ropes. They stupidly swung over the edges, dangling over the forest and had views of the lake. Johnny wasn’t scared of heights, but yelped every time his foot slipped and loose gravel jerked around him. Gwen swung back and forth, in a way that made Peter’s heart lurch when she kicked her feet off the rocks and threw her head back, lowering herself down.

It was an exhaustion that had a lightweight feeling to it.

He wasn’t dizzied from the adrenaline of catching a perpetrator in time, or whatever criminal of the night presented themselves in Queens.

Johnny had chased Peter, while rock climbing, and Peter felt genuine warmth for his friends. His best friends. They sent videos to Ned, Johnny and Gwen had been on a Facetime call with them the day before and declared whoever is friends with Peter, are their friends now. MJ shared her flannel, the one she wore around her waist once she noticed Peter’s calloused and cold hands when they brushed hands on the ropes. Gwen threatens to beat the shit out of Johnny if he bumps into her again, and once they reach the waterfall past the mounds of boulders they push each other in.

Tony had sat on the side, pretending that he didn’t have a camera strapped around his neck and two bundles of film gathered from the summer.

And seeing the initials on his dufflebag this morning, Peter wishes he could march into his home, what it was once before, and announce his future profession to Uncle Ben. Because he’s stuck. Ben Parker would laugh, reminding Peter he wasn't much of a scientist himself, yet they’d ponder over every possibility they could.

Ben, who smelled of cinnamon and coffee and New York, and Tony knocked on his cabin door before he could wrestle the baseball jersey on because the sight of it sent him reeling. Maybe May had accidentally packed it? Did she do this on purpose? They knew he would become homesick; he hasn’t left May’s for long. The longest he stayed away was for his DC trip in freshman year.

“Come in!” Peter calls.

“Hey, kid,” Tony opens the door, dressed in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, with bags under his eyes that he seems to have everyday. He looks young; but he can notice the signs of smile and worry lines around his young-adult face. “You’re late. The kiddos sent me to check on you. We’re all waiting.”

“Sorry, I just needed to get dressed--”

Peter cuts himself off, breathing in the baseball jersey while he slides it over his head. And it was a smell he hadn’t smelled in years. May was more of a nostalgic and sentimental person, and held onto Ben’s objects. They’d peer through photo albums together, and Peter would silently grief sometimes, but he was back at the Mets game Ben fought to buy tickets for and took to. The fresh air, the golden sun, Ben’s oversized hat covered Peter’s forehead and eyes. Ben was in every stitch of the material. His mind retrieved whatever image of Ben it could, and Peter couldn’t breathe.

“I--” His breath wavered and betrayed him, and Tony looked at him with a concerned face.

Peter can hear his phone buzzing with texts from Ned, probably responding to his breakdown over possible college majors he sent in a daze this morning when he saw an article about comets in their solar system, composed of water, dust, ice, and carbon monoxide. And he felt like one of those comets now, launched into the air with no destination and freefalling.

The jersey was his actual size now, and Johnny yelled from outside the cabin, “Pete, hurry up or you’ll be catching the whole game!” Tony stared back at Peter in concern, maybe he could see through him. He hadn’t hidden his teen angst that much this summer, maybe Tony still remembers teen angst. Hopefully he didn’t call him out over his childish brain losing it on a Saturday morning at camp. Was it homesickness? Tony probably only dealt with kid campers being homesick.

“Sorry, shoot, I just lost track of my sentence,’ Peter says and it comes out like a question.

He didn’t expect for Tony’s face to soften; the usual distant and withdrawn appearance is replaced with a small smile and a squeeze to his shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s play ball and possibly pop one of our shoulders out of our sockets by accident again.”

Peter snorted passed the burning tears threatening to spill, wiping them across his sleeve and noticed the man take a step back towards the door. “Yeah, right, ‘us.’ That was you, old man.”

Tony ducks his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and leaving a gap of space between them. He gives him a slight shove to the field, and Peter catches the ball in time before it strikes him in the face. Of course, that was MJ’s doing.

They played until Peter fell over on the floor, dust spreading in the air around him on the field and stinging his eyes. He definitely hurt his shoulder.

Tony had half the mind to chortle at him once he sat Peter up, already sending Gwen to grab an ice pack and the first aid kit. He couldn’t help it; he’s clumsy. His spider senses are quiet here, only arising once this entire summer: when Tony followed him, Johnny, Gwen, and MJ down the rocks and found Tony huddled on a narrow precipice clutching his chest. He had a distant look in his eyes; Peter thought he had recognized that look on himself before. He was out of breath and his face was pale. Gwen chimed in from behind, “Are we still canoeing later today? Or is today archery?”

And that was smart. Tony schooled his face, and he must have tons of practice if it came so easily. He wouldn’t have guessed Tony was working himself out of a panic attack if it weren’t for the paleness of his face, but Gwen’s questions were good. They were about fifty feet off the ground, and he had almost slipped. At least, that’s what he heard.

The quietness of his spider senses didn’t scare him. It should have, but it didn’t. Maybe it would soon enough. Johnny sits down on the other side of him, asking Peter to squeeze his hand if he needs to.

“Ah, shit, I promise it’s not that bad,” Peter says, already heading towards the nearest wall to reset his shoulder himself. He’s done this once before, thinks; once, there was an apartment building fire and he pulled out dozens of people, smoke fumes messing with his vision and chest. He had to reset his shoulder before pulling out a teeanger, grunting and pushing his arm against a nearby wall with the fire on his heels.

“Hey, kid,” Tony asserts, holding his hands up. “Can I? It hurts more if you do it. I can promise you that.”

Maybe it was because of being emotional over Ben’s baseball jersey, or missing May’s hugs and Ned’s hugs, meeting him by his locker every morning and how much he’ll miss them all for college that is a year away, was just stupid. And stupid over being upset over having to leave the nerdy stem camp and leave Tony behind.

It wasn’t fair for him to be attached. He was like a mentor, an older brother, just from the past month. It wasn’t fair for him to ask for advice constantly, but has a feeling this man was more than a camp counselor to their group. For fuck’s sake, he shed a tear in front of him and the man let him.

Peter nods to his answer, already ducking his head and inhaling a deep breath. “Good, yeah, deep breath. You’ve got the right idea,” Tony says, grabbing his shoulder. There’s a slight pop when Tony pushes, and Peter bites back his pain and tastes blood.

Tony holds onto his arm, and nods towards the rest of the concerned group, searching for any indication that Peter is okay. Gwen wipes a tear from his cheek, and he wonders what he would’ve done this summer without them. And what he’ll do if he doesn’t see them again. Maybe they’ll keep in touch, or apply to the same colleges. He didn’t want to lose them and the safety he felt with them.

“Okay, Peter, I told you for the millionth time, you connect the black wire to the circuit to get R2’s voice commands working,” Ned ordered the phone, and had given him, Johnny, MJ, and Gwen directions to the abandoned warehouse.

It was kind of Tony’s fault for demanding a nap and leaving the four of them with another camp counselor that wasn’t as competent as he was.Well, to call Tony competent is a bit of a stretch, his methods are nonchalant. Hence, MJ is in the corner reading them murder stories from the 1930s and remindingthem the ghosts still linger in the woods of upstate New York, right where they are.

“Yeah, yeah, MJ, the eighty-year old ghost is here to haunt us,” Peter mutters, ignoring Ned’s directions because he is totally wrong. “Ned, no. Absolutely not. What is this, LEGOs sensors?”

“Oh, my God, if you’re going to tell a joke then make it funny,” Johnny groans, “It looks like a UFO.”

“Fuck you, Johnny!” Peter yells, tossing a wrench and then deciding he shouldn’t have done that, and hoped Johnny ducks his head in time, “It’s not UFOs! It’s R2D2, you stupid piece of shit!”

Maybe Peter was a little unhinged today.

“Hey, ghost, knock this bookshelf down if you’re mad at us,” Gwen declares, drawing out her voice like she’s reading a ghost story to kids, “Or hold a candlestick in the middle of the room.”

The warehouse is small, it’s dark, and they use the sunlight as their lightsource. It was probably really stupid of them to break in, but this is it. Plan ghoul. And it’s the second to last night of camp, and they had vlogged the entire venture to the warehouse.

MJ had kept all the equipment they gathered from the summer. Either Tony was completely oblivious, unaware of his surroundings at all times and chose to ignore the lack of passion in their projects all summer for this, R2D2 and Johnny’s soccer laying robot, and Gwen’s killer robot obstacle course, or Tony didn’t care.

He was a billionaire. MJ still yells at the older man over his salary, but yesterday, he asked MJ to consult as an intern for his company and have input on the charity work the company participates in. And it was perfect for her. This was how they were wrapping their summer up; some of them receiving internships, letters of recommendation, and Peter stayed the same with the sick feeling in his stomach that he’d ruin his own life, or never be as far ahead as his peers.

“Peter, I have the same kit in front of me. I gave you these blueprints!” Ned yells into his ear, and Peter drops his phone and breaks off R2D2’s arm. Gwen laughs, pointing out how much uglier the robot is.

“Can your ugly R2 even fit in my obstacle course?” Gwen asks, playing robot soccer with Johnny. Their controllers are loud, they beep too much, and the obstacle course is ugly. It’s really not, but he’d never admit to his new best friend how beautiful the course is and he wishes he could shrink down and play in it.

“Ghouls!” MJ yells, fiddling with her tiny robotic sensor that he’s pretty sure is a tracker she’s been planting. He makes a mental note to check his things later before leaving camp.”My bot says Johnny is in first place!”

Their robots race across the obstacle course of the filthy warehouse, the sun’s going down so they placed flashlights around the room and the golden hour sun basked the room as it set on the horizon. The room was full of laughter, MJ’s ghost monitor with activity levels he can’t understand, and Gwen runs into their pseudo soccer field to knock R2D2 over.

They spent the rest of the night planning for college, planning to keep in touch, and devising another plan to take over Stark Industries once they all get jobs there. Peter knew he needed to go to college. He knew he couldn’t risk his family and friends and his identity.

They hear a crash outside, all of their movements hault. Peter doesn’t dare breathe, they all let their hearts pound in their chests. The sun had set by now, and Peter discreetly used his senses to listen and smell what, or who was outside. Gwen shows Peter her arm, the goosebumps set all over and she grabs the flashlight to use as a weapon. He’s impressed with her pose, but oh, shit, is it another camp goer? Did MJ fucking summon a ghoul?

Johnny shushes them, o-fucking-kay Johnny, shush the quiet group. Obnoxious. Peter blows out MJ’s candle, while she gets out her Poltergeist machine, where did she even keep it?

“Hide!”

The kids scatter, and MJ rambles through her theories of clues she’s found. “Is that a fucking bat?”

“Is it fucking Batman?”

“Peter, shut the fuck up!” Gwen chastises, elbowing him while they search for refuge behind the nearby bookcase full of dust and spiders. The shadow from outside looms, and the room is too dark to make out whoever kicks the door open.

The door was kicked open, and the group screamed. His brain clicked, his senses didn't go off.

It was fucking Tony.

Tony fucking Stark, with a casing of gold metal under his arm. And it’s his gold and red robot.

Let’s just say Tony dragged the four of them back to the camp after destroying their robots in robot-killer-soccer.

Tony does not know the impact he had on each teenagers’ lives. Maybe it was just Peter, and he was being sappy, but it was the last day of camp and the sun was setting and he was tired of the pinewood. It’d take him at least a week to get the smell of earth out of his clothes.

MJ shows affection, she hugs Gwen before they depart. Oh, God. They’re really gonna miss camp.

The summer is ending, case closed. Everybody’s packing their bags, and Peter’s pretty sure he will never recover from his scare during plan ghoul. Who would’ve known Tony had the same idea as them.

His friends, who wear his hats, who steal his food, and who wipe his tears are leaving. He has MJ. He has Ned.

Peter had set his flannel on fire but they put him out. It was really stupid.

Peter talked to Tony about Ben one night. He used metaphors, but he knew about Tony’s parents' loss in a car crash.

“Kid,” Tony says, pulling his attention away from the camp departures. Peter practically hopped on his toes of anticipation, walking closer to the older man. A father-figure? No. Older-brother figure? Maybe. Yes.

“You better work hard on your college applications, kid, because I’m going to need a student researching with me at MIT,” Tony smiles, kindly, and Peter blinked.

It still hadn’t set how much Tony believes in him. He knows he could be saying this out of kindness, out of pity maybe, but he had been the one to pull him from his reeling thoughts all summer long.

Tony had welcomed him in the threshold, their own threshold they built together, when Peter needed someone there, to take him in, and he continued to stay in once school began. This had been the place Peter spent half the summer in, did summer homework at the poolside with Tony’s help, he accidentally left candy wrappers in Tony’s cabin and left even more ants, and grew comfortable.

“Pete, when you go off to college, I’m not kidding, don’t forget to call,” Tony says, because Peter probably looks too intense right now and doesn’t know how to unweb himself from his comfortable cocoon of a summer, and he admires his camp counselor so much.

“I’m scared,” Peter breathes, and shit, his eyes well up. And Tony is there, the smell of coffee and some sweat, pulling him into a hug and he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Oh, kid,” Tony says, “Remember all the shitty advice I gave you. Do exactly what I wouldn’t do. And remind Aunt May I’m just a camp counselor and to stop yelling at me on the phone.”

Peter chuckles, because, oh God, knowing Tony and May, they’ll both team up to watch his back.

“I don’t want to let go of everyone here. I don’t want self pity, or anything, but like, this is the first time I felt like I’ve lived, as cheesy as that sounds,” Peter admits, wiping his sleeve.

Gwen is the first one to tackle the both of them, then Johnny, and Tony curses to the air. “Why did I become a camp counselor. The little boogers won’t leave me alone.”

“Stop lying, you know you came here for Pepper,” MJ snorts, “Old man.”

At the end of the summer, Peter is a teenage vigilante with a secret identity, but chose to relish in being a teeanger this summer. He was his grief or loss or anxiety, he was Peter Parker. And he wouldn’t ever just be Peter again. He thinks about what he wants, and he knows he wants them in his life. And Tony had given him this threshold, one that felt like a home away from home, and a family away from his small one.

#my fics #fics #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #kinda #im pretty sure they gave me the wrong @ but 😭

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drkcnry67 · 4 years

Text

Sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

A/n: this is for 4 different bingo challenges... hope people like this one! Show it some love if you loved it.

Title: sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

Pairing: dean x reader

Spn Dark sq: free space (shadow/fear demon)

Share the love bingo sq: sleeping beauty

Fluff sq: soulmate AU

H&H sq: Gabriel

Rating: pg-13

summery: not telling

created for @spnfluffbingo @spndarkbingo @heavenandhellbingo @thisismysecrethappyplace

Once upon a time in a kingdom oh so far away lived a king & his fair queen. for many years they had longed for a child & finally their wish was granted.

a daughter born to them whom they called YN. for they named her after the dawn for she filled their hearts with sunshine. a great holiday planned to honor the princess for the entire kingdom rejoiced at her birth.

as more people graced the party, the party got stronger. amongst those to arrive were King John & his son Prince Dean. fondly had these monarchs dreamed that one day their kingdoms unite.

thus that day they announced Dean, John’s son and Heir to Castiel’s daughter be betrothed. so to her his gift he brought as he looked unkowing on his future bride.

Page: their most honored and exalted excellencies, the 3 good fairies. Mistress Claire, Mistress Jo & mistress Alex...

the 3 fairies approached, now addressing Castiel and his queen.

Fairies: your majesties!

in courtly fashion they all curtsied.

Claire: each of us the child may bless with a single gift, no more no less.

claire approached the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Claire: little princess, my gift shall be the gift of beauty...

~one gift, beauty rare. full of sunshine in her hair. lips that shame the red red rose. she’ll wake with springtime wherever she goes.~

Jo was next to approach the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Jo: tiny princess, my gift shall be the gift of song.

~one gift, the gift of song. melody her whole life long. the nightingale’s her troubadour. bringing her sweet serenade to her door.~

Alex stepped up to the craddle, she walked and raised her want tostart her speech but something soon would disrupt her wish.

Alex: “sweet princess, my gift shall be...

a gust of wind blows blazing through the castle doors, they swing wide open. with wind and thunder crashing through, in a blaze of fire in the middle of the crowd appeared Rowena.

Claire, jo and Alex all in states of shock at the sight of Rowena who speaks now.

Rowena: well quite the glittering assemblage King Castiel. Royalty, nobility, the gentry and how quaint even the rebel.

alex tries to fly towards Rowena but is held back by Claire.

Rowena: i really felt quite distressed at not recieving an invitation

Alex now more than a little peaved speaks.

Alex: you weren’t wanted.

Rowena: not wa...? oh dear, what an awkward situation. i had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. well in that event i’d best be on my way.

queen: and your not offended your excellency?

Rowena: why no your majesty. and to show i bear no ill will i too shall bestwo a gift on the child.

the fairies back up to protect the craddle.

rowena: listen well all of you! the princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. but, before the sun sets on her 16th birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel & die.

queen: oh no!

queen takes her child in her arms as rowena maniacly laughing...

castiel: seize that creature!

rowena: stand back you fools!

in a flash of fire and lightning as well as laughter rowena disappeared!

Claire: dont despair your majesties, Alex still has her gift to give.

Castiel: then she can undo this fearful curse?

Alex: oh no sire.

Jo: Rowena’s powers are far too great.

Claire: but she can help.

Alex: but...

Jo: just do your best dear!

Claire: yes...

Alex rolls up her sleeves and proceeds to speak her part.

Alex: sweet princess, if through this wicked witches trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still maybe in this, the gift i give to thee. not in death, but just in sleep the fateful prophecy shall keep, and from thy slumber thee shall wake when true loves kiss the spell shall break.

~for true love conquers all~

but castiel still fearful of his daughter’s life, did then and there decre that every spinning wheel on that very day be burnt. so it was done!

~this is the first jump out of fairytale reality and into our own reality where dean is picking up watching this classic fairytale & trying to get some shudeye.~

dean: if i have one more flippin’ dream about this movie im gonna kill someone.

sam: dont worry about it Dean, its not gonna get better with you yelling & screamin’... now try to get some sleep! we have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow!

Dean: yeah your right.

Dean throws his headphones on again trying to coax himself into a relaxing sleep. which Gabriel had set so Dean would not wake from his sleep till the story would finish, then his destined quest would begin.

Gabriel: sweet dreams Dean. you have a really rude awakening ahead of you... everything you know is about to change...

gabriel casts his curse & leaves dean to his tormented slumber that which awaits him.

~jump back into the story, where we find the 3 fairies talking with Castiel and the queen~

Claire: your majesty please consider this a kind of protection detail, this will allow your sweet YN to grow up in peace without the worry of her pricking her finger when her 16th birthday hath fully passed your sweet YN will be returned to you. to ensure the curse does not come true.

queen: you 3 have always been here even when we havent always honored it, we do so appreciate your loyalty and protection. this has surely been a trying day for us and we are honored to have you 3 commited to helping us protect our daughter.

Castiel: and it is on our honor that, you 3 shall go with our blessing. please be careful & guard our child well...

many hours later after dark, the king and his queen watched with heavy hearts as thier most precious possesssion their only child disappeared into the night..

many sad and lonely years passed for King Castiel and his peopple. but as the time for the pincess’ 16th birthday drew near, the entire kingdom began to rejoice. for everyone knew that as long as rowena’s domain, the forbidden mountains, thundered with her wrath and frustration her evil prophecy had not yet been fullfilled.

rowena yells at her incompetant servents, they encur her wrath. rowena sends out her own raven to search for the princess.

and so for 16 long years, dean had been learning how to live life as a prince. while the wereabouts of the princess remained a secret, the faires carried out their long laid planes living like mortals.

the fairies send Yn to collect some berries while they argue about the kind of last birrthday party they wish to give her, the dress color the cake and the cleaning something extra special for their last night as her guardians.

YN decides to stop in the glen... she feels like something is wrong thats when your real self breaks through...

YN: omg what am i doing in here?

as you keep singing you try to remember wht happened to put you in here. sure was your fave movie but it was not how you wanted to live.

Dean was riding Chuck the horse, the scene still happens the singing in the glade, dean hearing your singing following the animals that are stealing his cape, boots and hat.

your still singing by yourself but now kinda talking to the animals. after that kind of normal conversation you notice that some of your animal friends have come back dressed as a prince. you started singing and continued to dance with your animal friends, but thats when Dean had snuck up and hid in the bush, he waited for his oportune moment.

YN: but if i know you, i know what you’ll do, you’ll love me at once... the way you did...

thats when your vocals were interrupted by another voice to complete your song.

Dean: once upon a dream.

though it wasnt exactly ideal, your hands interacting, it felt more real than you had this entire time. waltzing through the glade by the lake, made your real self shine through. Dean could feel his real self shine through as well.

Dean: are you real?

that question made you look at him instantly. another person whose not really the character he is pretending to be.

YN: you’re real... your an actual person, not just a fairytale character?

Dean: yes, i’m real, what’s your name?

YN: YN, outside this ever turning story book fairytale movie thing im a hunter.... this story just keeps repeating itself everytime someone watches this movie. i have no idea what the hell put me into this neverending storybook. im annoyed greatly but strange thing is i can’t feel any connection right now to my actual body...

Dean: im a hunter as well. my name is Dean. i hunt everything that goes bump in the night from ghosts to demons and everything in between. i am also not sure how i got in here.

YN: your a hunter as well... i thought i was the only one.

Dean: whats the last thing you can remember before waking up here in the story?

YN: i was on a strange case, one thing made me think it was a werewolf. one thing made me think it was a ghost. one thing made me think it was a poltergeist. i remember walking out of my hotel room and that is it. nothing else after that. it sends shivers down my spine when i think of what may be going on with my actual body. how did you end up in here?

Dean: last thing i rememebr is turning on the movie to watch/listen too while i try to sleep. thats it... i have no fucking idea how i ended up in here. as to you saying that you can feel no connection to your physical body, something magical must be blocking the connection, but non-the-less i want to help you. i will finish the story so i can get out of here and find you. i will slay whatever i have to in order to free you, in the story and in reality. i will not rest till i rescue you.

you both continued on in the story, as they say it must continue or the end will not come. but it was nice for both of you to know that neither of you were alone.

the 3 fairies gave you your birthday surprise and told you of your true heritage then whisked you away to the castle where they hid you; dean showed up at the cottage where Rowena prince-napped him; you are led away by rowena’s curse to prick your finger in a hidden tower room the 3 fairies find you laying you down in “your” room; then they put the kingdom to sleep till someone can wake their sweet YN.

~meanwhile outside the story Sam is working with other people to figure out what happened to dean. Ellen, Jo and Bobby all were doing everything they could to help Sam figure out what happened to Dean.~

Back in the story: many sleeping people but the fairies were trying to find out who the handsome stranger was that their sweet Yn had been talking about. they figured he might be their key to saving her.

but soon it was claire who had been doing a round to make sure all of her section was asleep but it was John’s voice that caught her ear for he started talking about how he had spoken to Dean who had been raving about some pesent girl and how Dean had said he was gonna marry her and such.

claire managed to suss out that it was Dean that Yn had met in the forest. the words she had heard from John that had firmed her suspicions were Peasent girl & once upon a dream...

claire flies back to Jo and Alex and speaks in raced tones of panic.

Claire: the young man that YN was talking about is Prince Dean. come on girls we have to get back to the cottage.

as fast as their wings could carry them, they rushed back to the cotage but alas were too late for all they found was Dean’s hat no Dean. they conclude that it must have been Rowena who has dean trapped in her forbiiden palace. their minds made up immediately, they had to go there.

Dean, the only one true person who is able to awaken their Sweet YN... they had to find him to save her. off they went no plan in hand just ‘winging’ it as they went, weaving their way through the grounds passed the guards...

Rowena was in her throne room watching her lackys celebrate. to her raven she speaks.

Rowena: what a pitty prince Dean cant be here to enjoy the celebration. come my pet let us go to the dungeon and cheer him up...

the raven she was just talking too cawed at her as she got up and started walking towards the dungeon where she had been keeping dean.

~*reality jump!!! Dean is still unconcious while Sam is runnning around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to figure out what the hell happened to his brother*~

Sam: i don’t want lecutures. i want to know what happened to Dean.

Bobby: dont worry boy, dean is strong, he will pull through whatever is happening to him. do you have any theories?

Sam: im thinking maybe some sort of curse or something but no signs of any hex bags or nothing surrounding dean. there has to be something we are overlooking. some angle that we have missed.

~*back in the story, dean is stuck in the dungeon not even phased when rowena walks in the door.*~

Rowena: oh come now prince dean why so mellon colly. a wondrous future awaits you. you the destined hero of a charming fairytale come true.

the fairies arrive in the window hiding from the raven and rowena but witness what rowena depicts to Dean through her Staff.

Rowena: behold, king castiel’s castle &and in yonder top most tower, dreaming of her true love, the princess YN. but see the gracious whim of fate. why tis the same said peasent maid who won the heart of our noble prince the other day. she is indeed most wondrous fair. gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red red rose. in ageless sleep she finds repose. the years roll by, but a hundred years to a stead fast hear are ‘bout a day. and now, the gates of the dungeon part and our prince is free to go his way. off he rides on his noble steed. a valiant figure, straight & tall to wake his love with love’s first kiss & prove that true love conquers all...

Dean struggles against his chains, alex starts towards rowena but is held back by Claire as rowena brings her raven back onto her shoulder as they prepare to exit the dungeon she says one final thing in Deans presense.

Rowena: ah my pet let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts.

she exits the dungeon leaving Dean struggling against his bonds. the 3 fairies enter the cell using their magic to release dean from the chains and unlock the door. Dean starts towards the door but is stopped by Claire who proceeds to speak.

Claire: wait prince Dean, the road to true love may yet still be barred by much more dangers, which you alone shall have to face. so arm thyself with this enchanted shield of virtue, and this mighty sword of truth. for these weapons of righteousness shall triumph over evil. now come we must hurry.

out of the dungeon they went but rowena’s raven had stayed behind after rowena and the raven exited the dungeon. he started cawing at them, Dean was thinking this would be easy escape. but he was wrong. the raven was bringing an army of lackies downt he stairs to them. dean begins to fight them off.

Claire: quick Dean jump out the window.

Dean jumps out the same window as the fairies, but some rocks start falling towards Dean. Claire notices and speaks quickly.

Claire: Dean watch out!

Claire turns the rocks into bubbles. then a wall of arrows quickly turned into a wall of flying flowers, alex went down to free chuck. dean rides off on chuck towards the gate where hot oil is thrown, claire turns it into a rainbow.

the chase of a lifetime made alex proud as she chased that raven to the top of rowena’s tower & turned it to stone. this made rowena emerge, freshly woken from her sleep she goes to yell at her raven but discovers that her pet has been turned into stone.

she watches from her balcony as the drawbridge is being raised, dean and the fairies are heading straight for it, the fairies help him make the jump. chuck keeps running, carrying Dean as quick possible, dodging rowena’s two spells that she has cast causing them to fail.

in straight eye sight for Dean and the fairies is the castle, but before they can reach it Rowena makes her second last attempt to stop them.

Rowena: a forest of thorns shall be his tomb. born from the skies in a fog of doom. now go with a curse and serve me well. round Castiel’s castle cast my spell.

a black cloud appears over the castle, lightning striking the grounds around, thus causes icky thicky black thorns to grow in large bushes between Dean and the castle.

Dean stops before them, drawing his sword he fights his way through the thorns this let him out just before the bridge to the castle. rowena seeing this appears before Dean in a firey blaze for her final attempt to stop them.

Rowena: now shall ye deal with me oh prince & all the powers of hell!

Dean and the fairies watch as Rowena using every ounce of power she had left to transform herself into a huge fire spying dragon. Dean begins what turns into a short-ish fight but retreats hastly reaching a wall he climbs high.

our prince is now trapped on a cliff, another blaze of fire this causes Dean to loose his shield off the side of the cliff. Claire jo & alex bring their collective magic together near the prince they cast this on the sword.

Claire: now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die & good endure.

dean throws the sword at the dragon piercing its heart. rowena lunges one final time but falls off a cliff to her downfall. dean is then lead down the cliff and to the castle, up to the tower where you lay in slumber waiting for this moment. Dean kneeling by your sleeping form placed a light kiss to your lips.

you wake up just as time freezes. Dean helps you stand up. both of you looking around. yes the entire movie was frozen. puzzled you both stand in front of eachother.

Dean: now whats happening.

you went to open your hand to grab Dean’s but something fell to the floor. Dean reached down to pick it up. he unfolded it and proceeded to read what was upon it.

Dean (reading note): congratulations! Defeating that witch takes care of one of my issues, that was of course the easy part. your next task Dean is to find your destiny, yes your destiny lies within the form of this girl. you must go back to reality and find her body and wake her up once you do everything and i do mean EVERYTHING will become clear. want a clue? here it is: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of _________ in the final resting place of _________...” i look forward to seeing you very very soon. try to hurry i hear there is trouble on your horizons.

now you both were very very very confused. this is what caused you to pop up and say..

YN: what the hell kind of clue was that? any idea what he is talking about? wait does that mean im not in my hotel room anymore. that someone or something moved my body?

Dean: that is exactly what it means and i will do everything in my capable power to find you. hopefully when i get back to reality this paper goes with me...

just as he finished speaking a portal opens, visions of dean’s unconcious body appear along with Sam and others going frantic over what happened to Dean.

Dean: Yn, i give you my solem oath that i will not rest till you are safe by my side, i will fight whoever, go wherever, do whatever i have to in order to save you. dont give up hope and pray that this loop does not repeat for you. pray this time freeze does not disappear when i walk through that portal.

YN: i have faith in you Dean please hurry. i look forward to never leaving your side.

Dean placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before he walked through the portal. you sat on the bed and watched as Time remained frozen but you were once again alone.

Dean arrived back in his own body, he sat straight up and scared the living daylights out of his brother, bobby and several others all of whom embraced Dean.

Dean then went to where Sam’s laptop was and began searching the lore, the myths and legends specifically. when Sam approached him about what he was doing, Dean presented sam with that note. suddenly it made mroe sense to Sam, who left Dean in the charge of Jo while he, bobby and ellen all went to grab food and booze.

Jo: what happened to you?

Dean: one minute i was in that bed trying to fall asleep using a disney movie & the next thing i know im inside the movie. im telling you i would have preferred Hell. but i wasnt the only person from reality stuck in the movie. there was a girl, she said she is a hunter too she was on a strange case when she found herself in the movie. she has no idea of how long she has been in there. she also thinks her body has been moved. this piece of paper proves that someone or something is holding her body somewhere and its up to me to find this girl. at this point nothing else matters. i made her a promise now i have to keep it.

Jo: let me see the paper again...

Dean hands Jo the paper and after a few moments of staring at it she takes a pen and fills in the blanks... thats when the paper glowed... and revealed a magical map...

Dean: how did you do that?

Jo just smiled and laughed...

Jo: im really good at fill in the blanks. its a natural talent i get it from mom... your clue should have finished like this: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of Romania in the final resting place of Dracula...”

Dean hugged her, he knew where he had to go now but how the hell was he gonna get there. it was then that Dean went to load several of his handhelds and load onto his back a machete load up some ammo clips.

he didnt know what to expect but he was certain that being cautious was better than being stupid. he was not gonna walk in there half assed. he needed to be as prepared as could be. however thats when bobby, sam and ellen walked back into the room.

Sam: Dean what are you doing?

Dean: im getting ready before i call cas for transport. this will allow me to not get dinged by airport security and not to become sea sick either. but i hope honestly that this mission im about to embark on is gonna be beneficial.

Bobby: what the hell do you think your doing? never mind that where are you going?

Dean: romania, Jo has the knowledge on why i am going to romania, she will fill you guys in... ill take my burger to go. put my pie in the fridge.

once Dean is ready to go, he stands in the center of the room and smiles back at the others but then Jo pipes up and goes to stand beside Dean with a backpack on her back...

Dean: Jo what...

Jo: im not letting you walk into your destiny alone. do not for one second think im not gonna jump at this opportunity to hunt with you, to help you to find your destiny. you helped me once to know what my destiny was, now its my turn to repay the favor.

Dean takes Jo by the hand as he in a stern voice he speaks the following words.

Dean: Castiel get your oh holy feathery ass down here i need a lift and your my ticket to my next destination.

cas comes to the hotel room and approaches Dean & Jo.

Castiel: where am i taking you and your friend here...

Dean: transylvania and dude once we land you cant be there... it will not be helpful for you to be there. this is a mission i have to do alone. me and my friend here go through the rest of the process alone.

Cas only nods completely understanding on what his friend has asked of him. he takes Dean and Jo to Transylvania. then once they are safe on the ground again cas leaves.

Dean: okay now to look at this magic map and figure out where we are and where the resting place of Dracula is...

Jo: well lets first of all make sure we are prepared before we go into town. i did a bit of research apparently they dont trust strangers here. we need to show them that we mean no harm. or just keep our noses down and pass through without being detected.

Dean: well lets see what the map says.

Jo leads Dean to a rock as she lays out the map...

Jo: these 2 dots over here are us... but what is that red dot over yoner on this map... look there is a multicolored one too....

Dean: the multicolored one is my destiny, the red one has to be what is holding her captive.

jo notices some writing appearing on the map after a few moments.

Jo: whats that say...

Dean: it says, “inside the castle you face your fears, beat them out till you cant no more. fears and demons go hand in hand but if you beat them in order to save your destiny. this is to be your greatest reward.” what the hell does that mean...

Jo: it means no matter what we need to get to that castle.

hand in hand they get their tracks moving towards the path...

Jo: i really hope the story of transylvania is fake...

Dean: you mean the fact that as soon as the sun goes down werewolves and vampires come out to play... you and me both but hey if they do we are fully prepared. this place is on top of a supernatural time bomb. everything that goes bump in the night comes out after sunset.

both dean and jo look up into the sky the last bit of light leaves the tree line.

Dean: have your silver bullets and machete ready just in case... we are not taking any chances. we have to get to that castle.

Jo: dont worry we will...

Dean smiles as both of them continue making their way through the forst, a little quicker than normal pace. the sun had now fully set, the light that had been guiding them was gone.

Jo: just follow the path the map says this will lead us to the castle where your destiny awaits you. Dean are you sure we...

thats when she stopped speaking... her words cut out... Dean pulled out his machete and quickly brought it to face the enemy that now held his best friend back.

Shadow entity: ah so the prodigal has come for his prize.. well i think ill take a constitution to ensure that you follow the rules, to ensure the balance is complete, to ensure that we are all in clarity to our debts. to this i have something to say this to you: you are part of the same card, the girl i have sleeping right now is not going to wake up without her other half. you have not done anything to earn her freedom, so i take your friend as kind of a wake up call to the horrors that which wait you inside. this castle has its own story but to unlock its secrets you must face your fears. face them down Dean, only then will you have earned her freedom. see you real soon.

the shadow figure disappears with Jo... Dean picks up her bag and keeps his machete on hand as he continues walking. following the map as he heard the soft crunching of his boots under the snow. winter sure is warmish in whats supposed to be the coldest part of romania.

Dean (to self): i have no idea what the hell is going on but i now have 2 bright lights to save i am just hoping i can conquer whatever appears before me... Jo for your courage please be my light. guide me to where you are... my dear sister.

meanwhile Jo has been placed in a room, where you lay in wait for your destiny. Jo takes one look at you and she smiles. she knows that you are definately dean’s destiny and then she speaks the following words.

Jo: in all my years i had never thought Dean would find his destiny, never after he helped me find mine i swore i would help him find his, now Dear Brother please follow my light...

Dean stops a quick moment to catch his breath and look at the map... he then sees Jo’s dot on the map glow brighter... it acts as a flashlight lighting up the path he must walk.

after several more steps and following his light he arrives at the castle.

Dean: here i com ladies... dont loose hope.

Dean holding his machete walked inside the castle.. the first thing he saw was the vision of himself as a demon tellig hm that he was gonna die alone and that he would become that... he told that vision that he would always have a family beside him even if they werent around that cared for him that would never abandon him.

that he went on his way still fllowing the light o the ground he comes accross the first blade which tells him that he fears being back in hell torturing souls and how good it made him feel. dean tells it that he will never and shall never go back to hell and never will he torutue those who dont deserve it again.

a few more fears tried to get dean to turn away from this quest, tried to get him to fail but nothing worked. the last area on the map was a long corridor it looked as thought there was a figure about mid way down.

the map let off a warning flash meaning there was danger approaching. Dean speaks once more to whatever is trying to face him down.

Dean: i address the entity in front of me. who are you? why have you brought me to this awful place?

Shadow: i am the demonic shadow of Count Dracula and I have brought you here so you can face me in the ultimate battle. Either I will be finally put to rest or I will be made whole again. do you accept my challenge?

Dean drops the bags and keeps both his guns and his machete as he speaks.

Dean: look dumn ass, i dont know who your the spirit or entitiy of but this is not how things are run in my world. in my world the good guys win and the bad guys loose. now if you stand aside and let me wake my destiny and save my sister then you might just get to be put back to sleep again. or ill succeed and kill you right now. your choice, i’m good either way.

Shadow: you dare to think you stand a chance against me, how cute. very well, if its death you choose then allow me to help you with that.

Dean moved out of the way as the shadow lunged toward him, missed and just landed again.. Dean then shot out 6 rounds of dead mans blood rounds all aimed at shadow-Dracula, he dodged those.

shadow: tell you what, ill make you a deal if you surrender now ill give you ten long years to spend with your so called “destiny” in exchange for you letting me out of here with my life.

Dean: how bout not a prayer. eat bullets instead.

Dean unloads the rest of the bullets in a circular form at the ground around shadow-dracula. completing the devils trap...

Dean: oh wait you dont need to eat the bullets cause your history pal...

Shadow-dracula looked down and around himself, the look that he now sported was one of fear. he was the one that now was terrified.

Shadow: this is impossible no one imprisons the great Dracula.

Dean: oh buddy im gonna do alot more than that, time for you to go back to where you came from.

Dean stands up tall as he then speaks the same words he had spoken previously hundreds upon hundreds of times.

Dean: Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audios bitch!

that was all Dean had to say the shadow of Dracula was no more. he went back to grab the bags and continued forward... he shot the lock on the doors and kicked them open.

Jo: Dean you found us... i believe you know what to do romeo... put everything down ill prepare to treat any wounds and such that show themselves once you wake her.

Dean: Jo it was dracula, the shadow outside the door was dracula’s shadow. i cant believe his shadow was so hostile. i mean if i hadnt wasted 2 clips of amo drawing out a devils trap i would have lost the fight.

Jo: ya ya ya okay dude, you have an overdue appointment with destiny over on that bed, now drop the bags and go.

Dean knew jo would have kicked his ass if he didnt listen. he did as told, he dropped the bags and walked over to kneel beside you. he brushed some hair from your forehead..

Dean: together now and always i have always been your once upon a dream.

his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. he pulled back after a few seconds and waited to see if it workd. a while later you open your eyes and touch Dean’s cheek.

YN: you found me?

Dean: did you doubt i would? i said i would and i keep my promises. this girl over here is my sister Jo. she is gonna give you the once over and then ill call for our ride out of here once she has you in a clean set of clothes. im gonna make sure we are still safe... i will call cas once we are all ready.

Dean leaves you in the hands of Jo who hands you some clothes and assesses you making sure you are not hurt. Dean comes back a few moments later and calls cas to come bring you all home.

Cas came brought you, dean and Jo back to the hotel. you and dean were gonna take some time to figure out what everything meant. this was when a bright light came upon the entire room.

Dean: whats going on?

thats when Gabriel appeared in the room. everyone had hand guns on him immediately. but he speaks not with hostility but with normality.

Gabriel: ah winchesters and friends. do not be alarmed for YN and Dean have been written in the stars since the beginning of time. Dean and Yn im sorry for trapping you both in that sleeeping curse it was the only way to get you both to listen to reason. to listen to your hearts. i was only trying to get you both to follow the rules that destiny had for you.

Dean: then why show up and tell us about it now...

Gabriel: cause i knew if i didnt it would have been alot worse later on.

Dean: what happens now?

Gabriel: well with your permission i could marry you and Yn right here right now... if you both agree.

you and Dean exchange looks before smiling.

Dean: when do we begin?

Gabriel snapped his fingers and the room transformed into a garden glade type thing. before you and Dean could say anything else you were taken from grungy hotel room to garden glade.

Gabriel: we are gathered here today to join Dean and YN in the ever holy bonds of Matrimony. this holy bond is a sacred gift, that deserves to be protected cherish it now and always. now i am assuming that there are no objections to this holy union.

the room was silent as Gabriel held his hand out and 2 silver bands appeared clearly made for you and Dean.

Gabriel: vows or no vows.

Dean: what more needs to be said, we already said everything we needed to... we know what we are. we have our feelings, we need no words for them.

Gabriel: very well, Dean take the band and tell Yn what you think should go with this ring!

Dean takes the ring and slowly slides it on your finger as he reveals whats in his heart.

Dean: YN after the movie and what i had to do to rescue you. i have to say that im 100% positive about you being the single most best thing that has ever stepped into my path of life. i promise now and always to honor, love cherish and whatever else goes with that... i love you Yn your the best part of me now.

you take the ring and you do the same thing.

YN: Dean, when i met you in the movie i was unsure of your intentions. then it was your beautiful green eyes that made me swoon. now i stand here to say i too now and forever more will honor, love, cherish and everything else that goes with it for the rest of my life. you are an amazing man Dean Winchester i love you so much and i cant wait to be your wife and have your last name.

Gabriel: by the powers and laws bestowed on me by Heaven, i now am honored to pronounce you husband and wife. Dean you may now kiss your beautiful wife.

Dean kisses you with so much passion. there was nothing to do for everyone else except cheer and clap.

everyone lived happily ever after. well at least once upon a dream!

#thisismysecrethappyplacesharethelove #spndarkbingo #spnfluffbingo #heaven and hell bingo

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timelords-angel-is-sherlocked · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Supercorp AU

"Lena's on a hunting trip and she hasn't been home in a few days."

Kara's world titled on its axel and she felt her heart drop. Lena had been silent for a week but Kara hadn't thought much of it. She couldn't think much of it or else she would start spiraling because she knew exactly what kind of things could make her go silent.

"Excuse us." Kara stood up from her desk and dragged Alex outside where no one could hear them. "What job was she working?"

"I'm not sure, it was something in Jericho. I was in Arizona dealing with a demon. Told her to wait for me, but you know how she gets." Alex slouched her shoulders and she leaned against the wall. "There's been a spike in activity. More and more spooks have been popping up all over the place, so the hunters have been a spread thin trying to deal with it. We hardly ever split up but..." she shook her head. "I know you're out of the game and you've renounced this life, but I could really use some help. Lena doesn't go down easily so I want to be prepared for anything."

Kara pursed her lips as she thought about it. The last time she hunted was three years ago, and that was only because a vamp was killing people on her college campus. If she went on another job and saw Lena again, she wasn't sure if she'd want to come back to CatCo. And Lena... That was a whole other story in of itself.

It all started back in Midvale about 5 years ago. Kara was in her senior year of high school and Alex was halfway through med school. A month before the day everything changed, there were two murders (an oddity in a small town like Midvale) and everyone was sketched out. Alex offered to take Kara to camp in the woods to have some sister bonding time. It was winter break and the stars always helped Kara relax so she agreed. If only Kara had said no, then maybe she would never even have thought of "hunting" as anything different than shooting animals.

They easily set up the tent and started a small fire to roast some marshmallows. Alex had been catching Kara up on how medical school was going and her roommate who only ate green m&m's and slept with one sock on. In return, Kara told Alex how school was going and that Eliza was doing well. It was a fun conversation until Kara heard a faint growl.

"Did you hear that?" The blonde scooted closer to her older sister. "It sounded like a dog or something."

"You have freakishly good hearing, Kara. I didn't hear anything." Alex reached for her gun anyway.

Kara heard it louder now. Alex tensed up and searched the woods but couldn't see anything at all. The full moon was able to provide some lighting, but not much.

A howl pierced the air and a tall figure came into view. It stalked towards the two sisters and Kara nearly fainted. In front of them stood a man with thick hairs covered all over him. He was snarling with his fangs and claws out, ready to attack. Alex shot two bullets straight into the creature but it only staggered back some.

"You two look delicious."

Kara was clinging onto her big sister hoping Alex would somehow find a way to save them. She was desperately shooting until her gun was out of ammo. The creature laughed and bent its legs, ready to lunge, but was intercepted by a body tackling it.

It was a girl, Kara realized, and she was wearing a pair of silver brass knuckles. She punched the monster in the face again and pulled a silver knife from her belt. She stabbed the monster's arm and it howled in pain.

"Are you the last of your pack?” She twisted the knife and the monster whimpered in pain.

"Stupid hunter!" The creature grabbed the girl by the neck and threw her five feet into a tree. It pulled the knife out and prowled towards her. "I don't have a pack. They were wiped out by your people!"

The girl rolled to the side to avoid being ripped to shreds. She patted her side and grabbed a gun. Kara wanted to scream, to warn her that bullets had no effect, but she was petrified. Frozen to the spot.

"So you start murdering people in the town?" She shot a bullet and the monster stumbled back in pain. “Thought you would be smarter than that.”

"Humans deserve to die." It dropped to the ground and Kara could hear it's ragged breaths. "I would've killed them all-" two bullets burrowed inside its head.

"Yeah, yeah." The girl spun her gun and placed it in her pants. As she searched for her knife, the creature’s body started to morph into... Mr. Henderson?

"What the hell is going on?" Alex demanded. She was shaking and her voice cracked, but Kara appreciated the effort to stay cool nevertheless.

"I'm sorry about that." The woman wiped the blood off her knife on her trousers. "Are you both alright?"

"What was that? How come Alex's gun didn't work on it? Why is Mr. Henderson there when it was the monster? Who are you?" Kara blurted out.

"My name is Lena and that's a werewolf." She sat down on a log opposite the sisters, rubbing her neck. "Silver is the only thing that can harm them. Turns out Mr. Henderson here was behind the murders last month. A friend of mine came through the town and killed a pack, but it seems one slipped through her fingers. Came as soon as I could. Good thing I got here when I did." She pulled out a flask and drank from it.

"He was a werewolf?" Alex looked at Lena as if she were crazy. Kara would have called her nuts if she hadn't just witnessed the whole thing. "What did he mean by "hunter" and "your people?"

Lena bit her lip in contemplation. "The less you know, the better off you are. I've got rid of the threat, but I highly recommend getting the heck out of here. I'll get rid of the body, so no need to worry about that."

"That sounds like a good idea." Kara nodded her head and started to tear down the tent. She really wanted to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

Alex got up and nudged the dead body with her foot. "How come nobody knew he was a werewolf? This is a small town, we would've noticed someone turning into that every full moon."

"They're smart. Ate animal hearts for the most part and traveled out of town to eat human hearts in the city." She watched Kara disassemble the tent. "Monsters are smart like that. When something bad happens, some snap and forget to be careful."

"How long has this been happening?" Alex asked in disbelief. Kara momentarily stopped. She was curious too.

"That family that went missing a while ago, how long did they live here? However long that was is however long they were most likely chowing down on some hearts." They both gave her exasperated looks. "What?”

The tent was now all packed up. "So you're saying that the whole Abbott family were werewolves?" They sold flowers in the middle of town. Flowers! That was not threatening at all!

"Look, I drove six hours straight to get here. I'm tired, hungry, and in a bunch of pain. And I've got to burn its body. Can you guys hurry it up?"

"We're good to go." It was dark out and after what they just went through, Kara was kind of terrified of picking their way down. "Can we uh, do you mind if - I'm sorry, just." She looked at Alex who seemed to understand her fears.

"I can help you with the body if you don't mind us sticking with you on the way down? I know this awesome 24-hour diner that we can go to if you're willing to answer more questions."

Lena seemed to think it through. "You paying?"

"It's the least we can do." Lena grinned - Kara could tell by the flash of white in the darkness - and said, "Hell yeah! Let's burn this son of a gun."

Kara stayed off to the side while the two burned it. The smoke burned her eyes and the smell made her want to throw up, but they thankfully left right away. Alex drove to Anna's with Lena following close behind in her own car.

When they stepped inside, Kara was able to get her first good look at Lena. And when she did, her heart stuttered in her chest. Lena was about an inch shorter than Kara, and she looked to be around the same age. She had startling green eyes that froze Kara to the spot and a jawline that was sharper than her knife. She had a black tank top with a flannel and a bomber jacket thrown over it complete with tight cargo pants, that no doubt had some weapons in it, and black combat boots. Alex had to elbow Kara so she would stop staring.

"I haven't had a milkshake in so long," Lena moaned as she slurped the drink and Kara blushed at the sound.

"Anna does have the best milkshakes," Kara squeaked.

Alex furrowed her eyebrows at Kara but she refused to look at her sister. "So what is it that you do for a living? Kill werewolves?"

"Werewolves, vampires, skinwalkers, anything that goes bump in the night."

"So that stuff is really real? Demons too?" Lena nodded. "How come we don't know about this stuff? Never heard about it?"

"You really think the public would be okay knowing stuff like that exists?" She downed the rest of her drink. "Of course some just want to live out their lives as harmlessly as they can. I know vamps who have deals with blood banks and ghouls who work in morgues and eat unclaimed bodies. But just as there are bad humans, there are bad monsters. We hunters do our best to gank the bad ones before too many people start asking questions. Most people don't know where to look so they don't see what's going on."

"So hunters are like the underworld version of cops?" Kara asked.

"Kinda. Except most people don't know about us, we don't get paid, and if we're not careful we die a gory death." She leaned back and starting tapping on the table anxiously. "I'm not in it to be a hero or anything, I just want to save as many people as I can. Give people answers to mysterious deaths. Deal with a poltergeist or two when I'm in between jobs."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"A while." The food arrived and Lena lit up when the burger was placed in front of her. "I usually try to eat healthy but I couldn’t resist. How often do you see a triple-decker bacon burger?”

Kara wholeheartedly agreed with that. The burgers there were the best in all of Midvale. She’d eat there every day if she could.

"How does one become a hunter?" Alex asked. Kara glanced at her sister curiously.

“Depends. Some people are born into it. Some accidentally get dragged into the life. Or when they get rescued from a supernatural attack, they get invested and want to hunt too." Lena shrugged and moved onto her fries.

"How'd you become one?" Lena stared at Kara with hard eyes. Touchy subject, got it.

"I want to become a hunter," Alex proclaimed.

"No, you don't. I appreciate the food and helping me, but trust me, you don't want anything to do with this life. You see loved ones die in gruesome ways, it's shitty motel after shitty motel, driving for hours on end through states, being tired to the bone, exhausted beyond relief, nightmares of the people you couldn't save, and paranoid that monsters are coming after you. If you become too big too fast, the monsters start talking and you get a target on your back. You can't exactly tell people what you do for a living or you'll end up in a mental hospital and it's a lonely life. So no, you don't want to become a hunter, sweetheart. Once you're in, you're in. You can't exactly unsee things and the life expectancy rate is like, 30 years old. You've got spunk, though. I admire that."

Alex sat up and stared directly at Lena. “But you save people. My sister and I would have been murdered and no one would have known. There are other people like that out there right? Families and younger siblings in danger?”

“Are you seriously ignoring what I just said? How old are you? 19? 20? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re probably in college too. Am I right sweetcheeks?”

Kara startled when she realized she was the one being spoken to. “She’s 20 and she’s halfway through med school,” she supplied helpfully.

“Kara!” Alex hissed and elbowed her sister.

“A medical student? Impressive.” She wiped her face using a napkin. “Become a doctor and save the world that way. Cure diseases, stop pandemics. What I’d give to go back to school,” she mused as she took on a thousand-mile stare.

“School isn’t actually what I really want to do,” Alex muttered. “I’m only doing it because my mom wants me to. I wanted to be a police officer.” Alex hadn’t told anyone that before and it felt good to get it out.

Lena stared Alex downed and it seemed as if she was somehow staring straight into her soul. “You’re on winter break?” They both nodded. “I have a job in Las Vegas. My contact wasn’t too specific, but I think it could be a vamp nest. If you’re serious about becoming a hunter, I’ll let you tag along. But you have to listen to everything I say and you will not put yourself in a dangerous position. Is that understood?”

It was a bit odd to see Alex look intimidated, especially by someone who was younger than her, but she was nodding along seriously. “I am super serious.”

“Hm.” Lena crossed her arms and moved her gaze from Alex to Kara. “What about you, cupcake? You in?”

Kara had bever been more afraid in her life. She just wanted to go home and forget everything that happened, but Alex was going. Plus, there was a chance Kara could ask Lena for some lessons and be pinned under her… “How are you going to convince Eliza to let us go, Alex?

“Don’t worry about it, Kara. I’ve got it handled,” she smirked.

Kara wasn’t sure what lies Alex told the eldest Danvers, but it worked. Two days after the diner, the trio was off to Las Vegas. Lena insisted on driving the entire way, saying that no one was to ever drive her baby. It was an old car, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but it had clearly been well taken care of. She had mixtapes that were purely classic rock and heavy metal which made Alex appreciate the hunter even more. The drive, which should have been at least 6 hours, took about 4 and a half (Lena was speeding and Kara half expected them to get pulled over but they never did).

It was around noon when they arrived at Sin City and they stopped for a quick bite before finding a cheap motel at the end of the strip.

“I think I know where the hideout is,” Lena spoke up from her bed. They had checked into the room about three hours prior and Lena spent the time typing away on her laptop and answering Alex’s never-ending questions. Kara took to reading through her journal about all the monsters she’s encountered and how to defeat them. She tried not to be jealous when she saw the name “Sam” popping up every once in a while.

“Where?”

“An old warehouse about an hour out. I don’t know, something just doesn’t feel right about this.” She ran her hand through her hair for the millionth time that hour. “It’s our best chance, so let’s go check it out.”

Kara was impressed by the arsenal the hunter kept in the trunk of her car. It was enough to arm a small army. Alex was given a syringe full of deadman’s blood and Kara a machete with instructions to cut off the vampire’s head clean off. It was just before 10 when they arrived and Kara strained her ears to see if she could hear anything but she was too far away.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Lena muttered. She stayed in her seat with her eyes closed. Alex and Kara exchanged looks but stayed quiet. “I’m going to go in first. If I’m not out in five minutes, Alex come after me. If she’s not out in two minutes, you come in Kara. If it’s not a vampire, then it might be a djinn. Deadman’s blood won’t work on it, so try and smash its head in.” Lena gripped her own machete. “Start the timer.” She opened the door and dashed towards the ominous building.

At the four minute mark, Alex went in after her. From what Kara had gathered, Lena was an expert hunter and she had taken down far more than a vampire nest. Maybe her intuition was right and it was a djinn, not a vampire nest. Kara opened the trunk and rummaged through the assortment of weapons and thanked God for the jar of lamb’s blood. From what she read, Lena never actually faced a djinn before but someone named Lionel had. He used a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood to kill it so Kara prayed that it would work.

She snuck into the building but she still couldn’t find anything. She walked as silently as she could until she saw a light up ahead. When she approached it, she noticed Lena tied to a chair with her head resting on her chest. Then she saw Alex slumped in a man’s arm. He was carrying her to a table where there was an assortment of knives. Panic surged through the blonde’s body but she couldn’t mess up now. They were depending on her!

Once he set Alex down, Kara dashed forward with a burst of speed and brought the knife down only for the body to dodge out of the way.

“It must be Christmas!” The man exclaimed. “So many bodies, so much blood.” He licked his lips. “I’ll be feasting on you all for a while!” He rushed towards Kara but she dodged his hand. She couldn’t be touched or else she would be put in a coma like the others.

He tried to come at her again but Kara ducked and swiped her legs at his feet. The djinn jumped to avoid her legs but missed the punch she sent at his face. When he grabbed it, Kara kicked him in his sweet spot and brought the knife down to his chest. His eyes shined an unnatural shade of blue before he went limp. Blue blood had splattered on her, but Kara didn’t care. She ran to Alex’s side and gently woke her up.

“It’s not a vampire!” Alex sat up and looked around fearfully. “You’ve got to run!”

“Alex, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Kara grabbed her shoulders and made direct eye contact with her sister. “Everything is under control now.” She heard groaning from behind her and she turned to see Lena waking up. Her eyes were blurry and wet, as if she was about to cry, and she took in her surroundings.

“Untie me, yeah?” Kara obliged and walked over to cut the ropes. “I’m impressed, Danvers. You really saved my ass.”

Kara blushed and tried to say something cool like, no problem. Or, it was nothing. Maybe something funny like, guess I’m your knight in shining armor. What she actually said was, “I used your lamb’s blood to kill it, sorry.”

The hunter laughed and shook her head. “A small price to pay. I’ll be sure to get some more, then.” She looked at the dead body and the knife that was still protruding from his chest. “Hey Alex, can you get some empty syringes? I want to get as much of his blood as I can to study it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex was still in a daze but she managed to stumble out of the empty warehouse.

Lena turned to look at Kara and studied her face. “I knew you didn’t really want to tag along, but thank you for coming. Seriously. I would have been pissed as hell if I died now. I’ve still got to…” she bit her lip to stop herself. “You’re a natural. Even I would have had some trouble dealing with him if I had known what I was dealing with.” She gently cupped Kara’s face and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips catching the corner of Kara’s.

Kara almost fainted from the adrenaline crash and the lightheadedness she felt from Lena’s lips on her. Thankfully, Lena dragged her into a chair with a wry chuckle. She and Alex filled five vials with the djinn’s blood before the three put that place behind and headed back to the motel.

They stayed in Vegas for another day. Kara and Alex explored the city while Lena stayed inside to do research. When they made it back to Midvale, Lena informed them that she’d stay in town for a couple of days since there were no pressing jobs that needed her attention.

A couple of days ended up being the rest of winter break. She had taken them to Salt Lake City after the New Year to take care of a vengeful spirit but, other than that, there were no more hunts. Alex was convinced that this was her calling and was determined to become a hunter. Kara couldn’t deny how right it felt kicking butt with Lena and saving the world one monster at a time, either. Once their year was over, Lena promised she would take them for a couple of more hunts before allowing them to become fully invested.

After she left, Kara and Alex spent a lot of time getting into shape and Kara continued even after Alex went back to school. In her free time, she would either read different mythologies or text Lena.

(Even though Lena was hunting a lot, or driving through states, or in a different time zone, she always made sure to at least text Kara once a day. Sometimes on long drives, they’d even talk on the phone. Alex didn’t get the same treatment and it made Kara’s heart do somersaults when she found that out.)

Lena and Alex were both there for her high school graduation and she definitely cried. Her parents couldn’t make it to see her, but she was glad she had her best friends and Eliza there for her. Alex and Kara spent a week with Eliza before bidding her farewell. Kara was taking a year off to “travel” before college. It was the best decision she had made.

Driving through states was sometimes boring, but the scenery always fascinated her. She and Alex would quiz each other on their lore while Lena drove (she was still adamant about not letting anyone touch her baby). They did a bunch of different jobs varying from cursed objects to demon possessions to ghouls. Sometimes there’d be weeks in between jobs but Lena still stayed hunched over her laptop doing research. Even on hunts she’d disappear for a while and come back looking defeated. It almost seemed like she had her own side quest but the Danvers sisters didn’t want to ask. What they had was good and they didn’t want to ruin it.

Kara learned how to make fake ID’s and was practicing on making FBI ones. Alex was the prodigy in lore and Lena would write down experiment ideas on new ways to defeat monsters.

One year had turned into two and somewhere along the way, Kara and Lena got together. Lena still had major trust issues and she wouldn’t open up all the time, but what they had was special. Alex would tease them about their relationship but she was happy for them. Things were going well until they went back to Midvale.

Eliza and Clark (Kara’s cousin) staged an intervention and asked Kara what she was doing with her life. Eliza had long given up on trying to get Alex to get back to school so Kara was the next best thing, it seemed. She couldn’t tell them that she was hunting monsters and running credit card scams so they could get by.

“It’s been two years, Kara. I think you’ve seen enough of the States. It’s time to settle down and go to college, don’t you think?”

Kara had caved in and applied to UCLA. Alex was proud of her and Lena was… she was bittersweet.

“I’m proud of you, darling. It’s good to get out of this life while you can. You’re smart and you deserve that education,” she said as they sat on the good of the Impala.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kara frowned and kicked her dangling feet. “I’m going to miss chumming it with the both of you guys and hunting.” It was true that Kara was averse to the whole thing at first, but it really changed her life. Saving families, killing monsters, working with her girlfriend and sister, it was the life. But, she was also excited to get her education. She did want to be a reporter like her cousin.

“You’re going to be amazing, babe. Keep a low profile and don’t go on any hunts, okay?”

“Okay.” Kara playfully nudged Lena and they clinked their beer bottles together and drank until Alex fetched them to go back inside.

It was halfway through Kara’s first semester when they realized the strain the distance and the hunting had on their relationship. Even though it broke their hearts, the breakup was mutual. Kara’s workload was getting heavier and the monsters were becoming more dangerous on Lena’s end.

When there were mysterious killings on campus of students with their blood being drained and bite marks on their necks, well, no one had to know it was Kara who stopped the killings.

Kara went on to live the college experience and had a blast. She had shoved the past two years into the back of her head and focused on the present and future. In her last year, she had managed to snag a job at CatCo as Cat Grant’s assistant. Her classes were all early in the morning so she would eat lunch then head over. The job tested her each and every day, but Kara was thankful for her training as a hunter. She would rather take on a pack of werewolves than deal with Ms. Grant when something went wrong (which was at least twice a week).

Once she graduated and worked full time, she made some good friends. Winn Schott who was a nerdy IT guy, and James Olsen who worked in the photography department and was a friend of Clark’s. Everything was going great until Alex showed up.

“Increased activity how?” Kara settled on asking once she managed to get her head out of the past.

“A lot of demons have been prowling around and Lena’s been obsessed with it for some reason. Saying she’s close to figuring something out, but I don’t know. I could never read her as well as you could and we’ve been apart for a while now. Anyways. Are you coming? I wanna get going before the trail goes cold.”

“Yes, of course I’m coming. I’ve got to talk to Ms. Grant first.” Kara dragged her sister to her desk and asked her to wait. She walked into the office tentatively and waited for her boss to look at her.

“What is it, Kiera? I’m busy,” she snapped.

Kara pushed her glasses up (she didn’t need them but it helped with her ‘innocent girl’ look) and cleared her throat. “I need to leave and take the rest of the week off. There’s a family emergency.”

Cat stopped typing and looked at her assistant. “It’s Tuesday, Kiera. You can’t leave on such short notice.”

“I realize that, Ms. Grant, but it’s truly an emergency. Lives are at stake.”

“Lives are always at stake. You can leave tomorrow.”

Kara didn’t have time for this. Lena was missing and she needed to be out there looking for her! “Ms. Grant with all due respect, it is urgent I leave as soon as possible. My family is at risk and she needs me,” she emphasized. Even if they were broken up and hadn’t actually seen each other in years, Lena was still one of the most important people in her life.

“Very well. Send Mr. Gomez in.” Kara nodded gratefully and started hurrying out of the office. “And Kara, I hope you find her.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grant.” She grabbed Alex’s arm and started to drag her out of the building. “Let’s stop by my apartment real quick to grab some clothes and snacks. Jericho isn’t too far from here, we can still make it before nightfall.”

“God, you have an apartment?” Alex smiled at her little sister. “And a steady job. And you graduated from college. I am so proud of you.” She gave the blonde a side hug.

“Yep.”

Alex pulled out her keys and unlocked a car. It was black with red accents. “1965 Ford Mustang,” she announced proudly. “Won in it a gamble with some other hunters. Lena helped me fix her up. She’s amazingly good with cars. I’m pretty sure she could disassemble and reassemble the Impala with her eyes closed.”

“She does love that car,” Kara agreed. Though, she loved watching Lena work on her baby. Her biceps flexing as she fixed whatever was inside the hood, the sweat dripping down her brow, the grease smudging her face when she would try and wipe it away, the- Woah. “I sure hope we’ll be back by Monday. I stood up to Cat Grant, and I don’t think she’s very happy with me right now.”

Alex laughed. “You’ve always had a big pair on you. Now tell me where to go so we can go save our girl.”

“Right!”

Little did Kara know that she was not only getting herself back in the game, but she was diving headfirst into what could be the start of the apocalypse.

#i wrote this at 3 am dont judge #rewatching spn and my brain thought this up #oneshot #maybe this could become a fic who knows #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers

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clumsybookworm18 · 5 years

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and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore) | pt.2

Jossam + Ghost AU

Summary: After the events of Blackwood, Josh’s ghost is stuck in limbo. Sam is the only one that can see him (much to her chagrin) and has to put up with his ghostly persistence. Who knew that even in the afterlife he could be so annoying.

[Read on AO3], Moodboard, part 1 / 3 / 4

Josh watches.

Whoever said death was peaceful was full of shit.

For him, death was cold. It was lonely. It was boring as fuck.

After the monster- Hannah- squashed his head, Josh didn’t immediately realize he was dead. The first few days had been the worse. It took him awhile to notice he wasn’t hallucinating. That his friends had made it out of the mountain but he didn’t. And that he never would. Not alive at least.

Needless to say, Josh didn’t like to dwell on his current circumstances.

He had tried to communicate with the others. Had wanted to make them understand that he was still here. That he wasn’t really gone. But nothing worked.

Josh refuses to believe he sucks at being a poltergeist. Completely unacceptable. Joshua Washington, son of horror mogul Bob Washington, did not suck at scaring the shit out of people. If anything, his prank on Blackwood proved exactly that. Even if things turn out the way he wanted at the end.

Finally, he has the inherent ability to scare the shit out of people that comes with the territory of being a ghost and these assholes don’t even let him have a go at it. Even Chris didn’t react when Josh tumbled over a few stuff at his place. The dude survived a night in a mountain full of supernatural creatures and still doesn’t believe in ghosts. His friends- if he can still call them that- were the worst at getting haunted. That was the only explanation.

She was an exception.

Josh watched as Sam roamed around in her room, preparing for the day ahead of her. She moved slower now, her movements heavier, as if there were a weight pressing in on her. That energetic edge she had about her gone.

Sam was the only one that actually interacted with him. Even if she thought he was a hallucination and ignored him most of the time, it still didn’t change the fact that she could hear him, that she talked back to him, and as recent events showed...

She saw me.

Josh was still processing it, trying to figure out how the fuck he did it. He was still learning what he could do, trying to understand how to manipulate his surroundings. He knew the basics, of course. It was the things that took more… concentration, to say the least, that were giving him trouble. Like a child who has already mastered their gross motor skills but was still honing their fine ones. But if Sam saw him then Josh must be doing something right.

He still couldn't believe it, after all these months…. He remembered the shock and grief on her face, the panic creeping into her eyes. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he was aiming for- at least not from her- but it was better than nothing.

Josh goes to stand behind her as Sam plops down in front of the dresser mirror, both of them looking at her reflection. Her pale face stares back at herself, and unknowingly at him, her hazel eyes bright but hollow above her sharp cheekbones. Her lips thinned as she tried, and failed, to gather her hair into a bun, the blonde strands slipping between her fingers. It had been months since The Big Chop, as he likes to call it, but it was still too short, barely beneath her chin now.

He recalled the feel of his thumb brushing against the nape of her neck, the way her long waves tumbled down her naked back. How his fingers threaded through the soft tresses, savoring those rare moments Sam decided to let her hair down. Both literally and figuratively.

Again Sam tried to amass her hair, letting out a sigh when the strands fell back to her face.

Josh thought it suited her.

Giving up the fight with her hair, Sam strode over to her armoire, yanking open the doors, her hands pushing and pulling the clothes as she searched. Josh tried not to react as she walked right through him. It still freaked him out a bit when people do that.

It was frustrating. Watching as she wasted away. Not able to do anything about it. Reduced to a useless presence, a mere bystander watching from the sidelines, useless to help her like he couldn’t help his sisters.

So Josh being Josh did what he was best at: run his mouth off.

“Going out today, are we?” he teased as Sam kept aggressively rifling through the clothes, pretending she couldn’t hear him. “I wonder what could be so important that put moping around in your sweatpants on hold.”

Sam didn’t answer him but Josh already knew. He’d seen the text Emily sent her last night, asking Sam to meet her for brunch this morning. Good. She needed to get out and distract herself. As delightful as those creepy paintings of hers were, Josh was bored of watching her being cooped up all day.

Besides, he enjoyed watching her squirm when he chattered her ear off in front of other people, trying to keep her features on line and her scowling to a minimum everytime he says something to deliberately provoking. It takes a lot to get on Sam’s nerves, oh but once he does, it’s so worth it. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he can’t have fun.

Sam clenched her jaw but still didn’t acknowledge him, her search becoming more vicious. Every once in awhile she’d pull something out, only to frown at it and put it back in.

Josh smirked, peering over her shoulder. “Look at you, actually making an effort to look like a lady.”

Sam abruptly stopped her ransacking. Slowly, she pulled a dark blue sweater- his sweater. The one he left the last time he stayed over. He’d left that morning on a haste, eager to get back to Blackwood, his plan already in motion.

He had been a fool.

Her hand brushed against the soft fabric of its sleeve, the touch feather light. Her other hand glided down her necklace, finding purchase in the key resting atop her breastbone. Blinking furiously, she swept it aside just as brusquely as when she stopped, before finally pulling out a long sleeved dress and slipping it on.

He found it fascinating how Sam could put moments like this aside as if nothing happened, yet still clung to what happened in the mountain. Letting it consume her. It had been over half a year now, and she was still a ghost.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The fabric of her dress slid over her shoulder as she bent over to tug on her ankle boots, her collarbones jutting over the loose collar. She was so thin. So damn thin. Had she noticed how much weight she’d lost?

Does she even care?

Sam kept going on her gloomy way, oblivious to his worrying. When she was already halfway down the hallway she paused, half turning, those hazel eyes searching.

Josh crossed the space between them. His gaze raked over her face, looking for some kind of recognition, a sign.

Look at me. He begged silently at her. I’m right here. Look at me.

Sam shivered. Her eyes flickered over to where he was standing, and for a moment, just for a moment, something like hope dared to flare in his chest.

He wanted her to know. He wanted her to see. He was here. He never left.

Just as fast as it happened, her gaze slid right over him, unseeing.

The feeling in his chest sunk, instantly swept by a spark of frustration.

The lights flickered. Once. Twice.

“Freaky...” Sam whispered to herself. She opened the door, throwing another look over her shoulder before walking out.

Josh wasn’t going to stand on the sidelines anymore.

***

She couldn’t sleep.

It was going to be one of those nights, it seemed. Full of tossing and turning, sleep failing to come to her as easily as it did before. The frustrating thing was that she was actually tired- so tired. Had spent all day fighting the immense heaviness that now lived inside her. But as soon as her head hit the pillow…

Sam sighed sharply, pushing the covers away. A lick of cold went down her spine, sliding along her bones. She ignored the way it made her skin prickle. At the implication of why, exactly, she was so fidgety.

It had been a few weeks since the Josh incident, or whatever it had been. She hasn’t told anyone about it, nor she planned to. Hell, nobody even knew that she could hear Josh talking to her in the first place. Not her mom. Definitely not her friends. They already worried enough.

For something she had come to consider as a minor blip, Sam had been going around the matter a lot. There were a bunch of plausible explanations for why she’d seen him. Stress. Lack of sleep. Maybe she had smelled a bit too many paints that day. Maybe she had a brain tumor. Or maybe-

You’re overthinking things.

Sitting up and turning on the lamp by her bed, Sam grabbed the diary stowed away on her bedside table for times like this, already full of entries and drawings that typically wouldn’t be in a diary of a girl her age.

So what if Sam saw him- or thought she did. She hears his voice in her head all the time, which lately had been more insufferable than usual. She was making a big deal out of nothing.

And yet the feeling of being watched never went away.

Wait, why am I still racking my brain over this? And when the hell did it get so cold in here?

As if summoned by her thoughts, a deep voice drawled, “And here I thought you’d be catching up on some z’s right now.”

Ah, there he was. The bane of her existence.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Go away, Joshua.” she said, not really in the mood to deal with this bullshit tonight.

He chuckled, the sound low and soft. “Joshua? You must be really pissed.”

“Am I? Gee I hadn’t noticed.”

“So grumpy tonight, Sammy.”

Sam scowled and kept scrawling stubbornly on her diary. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll go away.

Another chuckle. “Can you at least tell me what’s got your panties in a twist?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Not real.

“Saaaaam.” he went on.

Silence.

“Sammy.”

Sam still didn’t answer.

There was no quip from him this time, and Sam almost sighed in relief but kept her mouth shut instead, trying to bask in the seconds of peace that, somehow, she knew wouldn’t last very long.

She startled at the caress of something on her ankle, letting out a curse as her back slammed with the headboard.

“I figured that would get you to stop ignoring me.”

She lifted her eyes, immediately regretting her decision as they zeroed in on the source of her distress.

Sprawled on the foot of her bed was Josh, head propped up by a hand and smirking.

#chapter 3 already on AO3!#until dawn #josh washington #sam giddings #jossam #josh x sam #ghost au #until dawn au #ghosts #ud sam #ud josh #until dawn fanfiction #jossam fanfiction

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riverofmemoriesft · 5 years

Text

Master List

Unreleased WIPs:

Title: Between the Lines: Scripted in Iron Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 2 Summary: “‘You did not ruin me, Gajeel Redfox. You hurt me, broke my body in a way that even Porlyusica could almost not do anything for, but you did not ruin me. You made me realize how much work I have to do to live up to others in my guild, but I am here. I am alive. I lived to fight another day. When you came after me, you didn’t ruin me, Gajeel. You ruined yourself.’” Notes: How Levy and Gajeel got together in the BTL-universe.

Title: In Tenebris {Rewrite} Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 4 Summary: After discovering a trio of scientific experiments who are the equivalents of dragons, life for Lucy Heartfilia and Levy McGarden gets flipped upside down. Apparently, protecting dragons brings a few others like them knocking and makes things crazy. It doesn’t help that some of the “others” are a whole lot less friendly. Notes: Bet you didn’t think I was still working on this. REWRITE! This is gonna be a whole lot darker than the original.

Title: Out of Reach Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Sting x Rhith Vila (OC), Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: 1 Summary: When a series of odd dreams leads Natsu, Sting, and Rogue to an anti-magic village in the mountains near Crocus, they’re alarmed to discover that things aren’t quite as peaceful as they seemed to be. Acnologia’s returning, the entire truth of END is brought to light, the stars are going out, a supposed god has come knocking, and the dead are apparently coming back to life. Notes: Sequel to Not As It Seems. Got inspired when reading reviews and drawing Rhith.

Title: Withstanding Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: N/A Summary: When Makarov gives Natsu a small, in-town job, he doesn’t expect to find himself in a hostage situation. Things take a dark turn, and Juvia, undercover, is devastated to realize she can’t help him, nor can anyone else until the demands are met. Time is running out, and Lucy finds herself having to make an impossible decision she isn’t sure she can make. Notes: A story akin to A Game of Life and Obsessive Impulsive. I’ve got plans, my friends.

WIPs

Title: Between the Lines: Tales of Fiore Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Various Chapters completed: 3 Summary: A collection of stories from the universe of Between the Lines.

Title: Of Dust and Shadows Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: 38 Summary: After falling through time, Lucy Heartfilia finds that history – both the world's and her own – isn't as black and white as she thought it was. With the discovery of magic and the fact that she's arrived in a three-year period no one knows anything about, Lucy is determined to stop the devastation she knows is coming – all while being irreversibly tied to the one who creates it. Notes: A delight to write and share.

Title: Skinwalker Series: Supernatural Pairings: Dean x Alex Montgomery (OC) Chapters completed: 44 Summary: After confronting a young British woman about a dog that mysteriously appears at several crime scenes, the Winchesters gain an ally in their war against what comes knocking in the dark of the night. Except this ally may or may not be one of the very things they're determined to kill. Notes: Let’s see if I ever finish this.

Title: Songcraft Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, various other pairings included throughout Chapters completed: 22 Summary: "Perhaps we were someone else, once upon a time. Perhaps we even hold their memories in our heads. Maybe it means something that we've found one another now for some strange unknown reason, but it doesn't mean we are them." Notes: Reincarnation AU

Title: To the Stars and Back Series: Doctor Who Pairings: 10th/11th Doctor x Jayden O’Connors (OC) Chapters completed: 17 Summary: Tagging along in the TARDIS after being rescued from a situation she was sold into, Jayden O'Connors finds that life isn't quite as pointless as she thought it to be. When the Doctor's involved, it's full of adventure and constant running. But the clock is ticking, and it doesn't look like running is an option - especially when you're facing death. Notes: Someday I’ll finish this one as well. I have a lot of work to do.

Complete:

Title: Between the Lines Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, various other pairings throughout Chapters completed: 343 Summary: In a world that knows nothing of magic, there's a hidden society of people with incredible abilities. After joining the Fairy Tail guild and partnering with a crazy pyromaniac by the name of Natsu Dragneel as well as his flying blue cat, Lucy Heartfilia begins to learn that everyone has secrets - some of which even lie within her own family - and that nothing is ever as it seems.

Title: Not As It Seems Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, Sting x Rhith Vila (OC) Chapters completed: 18 Summary: When Rhith Vila, an illusion mage employed by the Magic Council, is sent to investigate an influx of magic in Magnolia, she discovers that things are worse than originally thought. Meanwhile, Natsu and the guild are thrown into chaos when something that was never thought possible is discovered, leaving them brimming with determination to find their nakama and bring her home.

Title: Obsessive Impulsive Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 20 Summary: "'I've been trying to find you alone for weeks, but you've been avoiding me.' He clicked his tongue, as if scolding her. 'I tried approaching, but you always had someone with you to give me nasty words and looks. They turned you against me, Miss Levy.'" [Not for sensitive readers!]

Title: Oculto Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 20 Summary: When Levy takes a job requiring that she retrieve a treasure from ancient ruins, she doesn't expect there to be a guardian. In fact, she rejects Mira's offer of sending someone with her or even the idea that she should invite anyone other than Lily with her. "Good thing it's Mira, she's probably already sent Gajeel after us." {Gajeel x Levy}

Title: Paranormal Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: 31 Summary: Living with a mostly friendly poltergeist and dealing with his "generous" acts of "kindness" is one thing. Figuring out just how he ended up there is a completely other matter that has Lucy's head spinning. And it certainly doesn't help that he's getting to be not nearly as friendly as time goes on. {WARNING: some of the content might not be for sensitive readers!}

Title: Paranormal: Tranquility Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: N/A Summary: Saying goodbye is the hardest thing in the world. But sometimes, it's impossible, and Lucy knew that it was what trapped her there for so many years. {One-shot}{Semi-sequel to Paranormal}

Title: Redemption Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: N/A Summary: There is a story rarely told, only beneath the comforting light of a full moon with a brightly lit fire as an offering to the demon they speak of. It is said to be a sacred tale that no man wishes to whisper unless it is done freely, beneath a blanket of stars that help to remind the demon of vows long since lost. A tale in which a demon breaks beneath the weight of redemption.

Title: The Game of Life Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 13 Summary: "You're new here, so I'll explain the rules once. Winners get one lash, losers die. It's quite simple. The last one standing gets no lash. We do one game a day here and you live as long as you can stand it. If you somehow miraculously try to get away, I kill you. It's quite simple really." [Not for sensitive readers!]

Title: The Traverler’s Song Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: N/A Summary: "The song is not a popular one, only known by a select few that it has been passed down to. She's grateful that it was entrusted to her by the last member of the Fairy Tail guild before they'd passed away. It is known as the Song of Travelers and tells the story of a woman who travels with her lover and friends in search of help escaping from a bargain."

Title: The Twelve Days of Fairy Tail Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy Chapters completed: N/A Summary: "Every year, we do a little Christmas tradition that we call the Twelve Days of Fairy Tail. From the fourteenth of December until the twenty-fifth, one person will get on the nearest table at around ten in the morning and blurt out the song lyrics they've made for the song as well as the last set." In which Lucy experiences her first real Christmas in years and a guild tradition.

Title: Shattered Boundaries Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: N/A Chapters completed: N/A Summary: The day Lucy was cursed, the Celestial Realm went into an uproar. Time shifted, the gates closed, and there wasn't much that could be done. Not that Loke didn't try.{One-shot}{Third in the Shattered Series}

Title: Shattered Dreams Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, various other pairings throughout Chapters completed: 25 Summary: Lucy knew her dream of being a part of Fairy Tail was complete when they became her family, but sometimes when following your dreams, you forget that nightmares are dreams too. {First in the Shattered Series}

Title: Shattered Reality Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Gajeel x Levy Chapters completed: 13 Summary: As Lucy battles her nightmares, Gajeel, Levy, and Pantherlily set out to rid the world of the one behind them. Joined by someone they never expected to come across, it falls upon their shoulders to stop what could quite possibly be their demise alongside the destruction of Fiore. {Gajeel x Levy}{Spin-off of Shattered Dreams!}

Title: Shattered Souls Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: N/A Chapters completed: 8 Summary: Team Natsu is a mess. And that's putting it lightly. {Last in the Shattered Series}

To Later Be Deleted...

Title: In Tenebris {Original} Series: Fairy Tail Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, Gajeel x Levy, various others Chapters completed: 29 Summary: After purchasing a beautiful mansion for a ridiculously cheap price, Lucy and Levy are suspicious but can't find anything wrong with it...until Lucy discovers a trio of scientific experiments in a dungeon. Apparently, when confronted with the challenge of protecting people that are practically dragons from others like them, life tends to get a little crazy.

#fanfiction list #riverofmemoriesft #fairy tail #supernatural #doctor who

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

Text

What Ichigo's classmates in Karakura think Byakuya "Ichigo's Demon Fiance" looks like

#Maybe The Real Poltergeists Were The Friends You Made AU #Bleach #ByaIchi #ByakuyaIchigo

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golden-redhead · 5 years

Text

Aftermath

Oumota, Hogwarts AU

Read on AO3.

After the battle of Hogwarts is over he finds Momota in the Astronomy Tower.

He doesn’t comment on how predictable it is to see him there, even if the words are right there, curling at the very tip of his tongue. He slips into the tower quietly, noting how many steps of the steep spiral staircase that leads to the top are missing with a grim sense of detachment.

The stars twinkling high above look the same as ever, unaware of the tragedy that took place below, the meadows of Hogwarts still scattered with bodies. For a long moment, Momota doesn’t acknowledge his presence, doesn’t even twitch, his eyes fixed on the stars spread on the dark sky above them and blind to anything else. Briefly, Ouma wonders if he even sees anything. Maybe he’s just staring at nothing, trying to reach some memories that he has no access to.

If he closes his eyes for a second too long he can still hear the echo of screams and cries, curses flying left and right and hitting blindly, not caring whether it’s a human or House-elf, centaur or poltergeist. He can hear Bellatrix’s roar of laughter and the bolt of piercing green spell as the Killing Curse misses him just barely, almost brushing against his shoulder, only to hit its target. He turns back just in time to watch as a small Hufflepuff girl lets out her final gasp, life leaving her body like in slow motion, a black and white checkered scarf slipping down her neck and onto the slick-with-blood floor. He remembers the feeling of blood draining from his face and the clutches of fear holding his heart as he wants to catch her as she falls, wants to scream until his throat feels sore. He does none of these things, frozen in place for the longest while. What happens next is a blur, a cascade of more screams and someone’s warm and sticky from blood hand wrapping around his arm and pulling him out of the danger’s way just as a burst of fire - where is it coming from? - fills out the room and consumes the body in flames. He knows that he did his fair share of screaming and begging and crying but he barely remembers a thing. He knows, however, that it was Momota’s arms that wrapped around him and held him tightly, the quiet rustle of his voice strangely comforting while his whole world was falling apart.

“Have you seen Maki and Shuichi?” Momota asks tiredly and Ouma swears that he’s never heard him sound so beaten, so detached and tired and vulnerable.

With all his heroic masks gone he sounds just like a lost kid, disoriented and helpless. It’s hard to believe that he was the Chosen One, the same person who just defeated the greatest threat the wizarding world has ever faced.

“Nope~! They’re not my sidekicks to look after, that’s more of Momota-chan’s shtick,” he says, forcing a cheerful note into his voice even as Momota is seemingly too tired to send him as much as a disapproving glare. He simply scoffs and looks away, back to his own thoughts.

It’s almost surreal, him being so quiet.

Ouma’s lips curl in a grimace, the scene still burning in his memory. It feels like it happened so long ago, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.

He told him the truth shortly before the battle started, tears and snot rolling down his face as he finally broke down and confessed, words slipping out of his mouth at an overwhelming speed, as if afraid that he’ll never get another chance to say them.

Back then he thought that he would be dead by now, one of many casualties of the inevitable battle. Otherwise he never would have let himself fall so low, least of all in Momota’s presence. But apparently fate had different plans.

And Momota - being the fool that he is - forgave him without a second thought, spilling out some nonsense about always believing in him, his face bright and the hard way he pat Ouma on the back almost knocking the breath out of the smaller boy made it obvious. The sentiment made Ouma snort in grim amusement despite his miserable state. He knows a liar when he sees one.

It doesn’t erase the years of antagonism between them, even if a good portion of it were just harmless pranks and petty House rivalry.

When did it all go so wrong, thinks Ouma bitterly. All he did was try to protect DICE, the little group of misfits just like him, Muggle-born children abandoned and left to fend for themselves or die trying.

It’s quiet up here, the world below them solemn and grieving. If he looks down and squints his eyes he can see the faint light of the wands as wizards look for what’s left of those who were brave enough to defend Hogwarts with their own lives. Some part of him wants to be cynical about it, brush it off as the price they had to pay for being reckless. But those were real people, many of whom he has seen everyday in his classes, students and teachers alike, now cold and lifeless and lying in the grass like forgotten dolls.

Maybe he’s an even bigger fool than Momota could ever dream of being. After all, Momota succeeded where Ouma failed. He’s been trying to defeat the enemy on his own but now he realizes that it was foolish of him. He joined Voldemort’s side hoping to learn more, tossing aside his own morality in hopes of getting close enough to be able to deal the final blow. In reality, all he did was make things worse.

The tattoo on his arm burns and so do his eyes, angry tears gathering in the corners as he looks to the side to no longer stare at the bodies scattered at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. From up here he can’t tell which belong to the Death Eaters. He supposes that it doesn’t matter.

He can feel Momota’s curious eyes burning into his skin.

“It… It’s gonna be okay,” murmurs Momota and then quickly averts his gaze when Ouma’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously.

Ouma laughs, a single bark that sounds too loud in the quiet of the slowly fading night.

“Whatever you say, Momota-chan,” he comments, amused.

He wonders which one of them Momota is trying to reassure more.

Momota glances at him, mauvish-colored eyes bloodshot and brimming with worry. He looks like he wants to say something but his teeth dig into his lips, keeping his mouth shut. It’s almost amusing, Ouma doesn’t think that he’s ever had a chance to see Momota actively trying to keep quiet.

Momota’s concern is a weird mix of infuriating and comforting, even if it’s the kind of comfort that he doesn’t deserve. Ouma will be lucky if the only punishment he will have to face is rotting in one of the freezing cold cells of Azkaban. The brand adorning his left forearm is a pretty damning evidence and the only one the wizarding world will ever care about.

He wonders if Momota is aware of any of that or if his usual naive positivity made him blind to the reality of Ouma’s situation.

Ouma wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like this new Momota, so quiet and reserved, still like a statue as he stares at the stars spread over the sky with unseeing eyes. He’s used to reading him with ease but he can’t figure him out in this weird new state and it sends a spark of irritation through his veins.

It’s not that he’s worried about Momota, he decides. Of course he’s not. Okay, so maybe the fact that he’s here, with Ouma and at the top of the Astronomy Tower, rather than with his loyal sidekicks and seeking comfort in their presence after such a traumatic event is a little bit worrying but Ouma’s willing to cut him some slack. Momota’s always been a pathetic masochist. This whole Chosen One business is the best proof of that.

“Momota-chan better not do anything stupid,” drawls Ouma. He lifts his arms to fold his hands behind his neck.

To his surprise Momota lets out a quiet chuckle and scratches the back of his head, the look on his face almost sheepish.

“No worries,” he says, “I’ve done more than my fair share of stupid today.”

Ouma tilts his head to the side, keeping his expression neutral.

“How so?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” asks Momota dejectedly, a bitter note seeping into his voice. He gestures vaguely in the direction of the ground below.

Ouma’s brows furrow in a frown. Momota-chan isn’t blaming himself for what happened… is he?

Then again, this is exactly the kind of stupidity he grew to expect from Momota throughout the years. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Momota-chan is so dumb,” he announces with a firm nod, as if he has just realized that and knows for a fact that it’s true.

“W-what?!” sputters Momota. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Ouma snorts. “Being dumb is your state of being, my beloved Momota-chan. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. You’re a natural!”

A grimace crosses Momota’s face but, surprisingly, he doesn’t rise to the bait. Ouma clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“If Momota thinks that the battle was his fault then he’s even dumber than usual,” he informs him. He doesn’t even look in Momota’s direction, inspecting his nails instead. He doesn’t have to look to know what kind of face Momota is making. He spent years practicing the skill of provoking Momota and he knew that the Gryffindor would never fail to deliver when it came to offended expressions. He liked to think that he was an expert.

“I’m not dumb,” grumbles Momota and Ouma’s lips twitch slightly in a faint smile. Ah, that sounds more like the Momota he knows.

“It’s just… If it wasn’t for me… They would still be alive… Gonta and Angie… And Shuichi’s uncle and y-your friends, too. DICE, right?”

Ouma can feel his heart sink. Leave it to Momota to bring up the one thing he couldn’t bear to think about right now. He can feel the anxiety attack creeping up his throat, the suffocating feeling spreading over his body and the stinging prickle of tears. He blinks furiously to chase them away.

Not here. Not with Momota.

He’s cried around him enough for one day.

It takes him a moment to respond. For the longest moment he simply doesn’t trust his voice not to break.

“Momota-chan, they knew what they’re doing. They knew the consequences.”

Momota’s hands curl into fists.

“No. No, they didn’t,” he protests fervently, his voice reaching hysterical tones. Ouma almost flinches away at how desperately it sounds. “They believed that I would save them, that I would defeat Voldemort and I… I...”

“And you did,” interrupts him Ouma.

Momota doesn’t look convinced, the look on his face pained. Ouma almost feels bad for him.

“Listen, Momota-chan. You defeated the guy who terrorized the entire wizarding world for decades. Twice!” Ouma reached out his hand to flick the Chosen One on the forehead where the lightning bolt-shaped scar rested. “No one came even close to doing what you did in over thirty years.”

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“Nope! You didn’t,” agrees Ouma. “And you shouldn’t have done that at all. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility.”

“But-”

“Momota-chaaaan,” whines Ouma, exasperated, “no buuuuts. You are a kid. And you were a baby, slightly more dumb than you are now, when you defeated him for the first time. You did more than the Ministry of Magic or any adult did in years.”

Momota doesn’t say anything and Ouma decides to take it as a success.

“You saved more lives than you think.”

His voice leaves no room for further discussion.

Silence spreads between them after that. It’s not a heavy with tension one, however, like the ones they used to share so often. It’s quiet and calm in a way that none of the previous ones ever was. Ouma would say that it feels almost comforting if he didn’t know better.

Apparently near death experiences really bring people closer. Who knew!

It’s Momota who breaks the silence just as the sun starts to paint the sky with the rosy shades of the dawn, spilling warmth all over the horizon.

“Y’know,” starts Momota, sending him an uncertain glance and swallowing hard before continuing. “If you… if you want to disappear I could… um, I mean… I could pretend that I didn’t see anything.”

Ouma’s lips stretch in a wide grin. “Aww, Momota-chan. You do care!”

Momota huffs irritatedly.

“Of course I care,” he says grumpily and Ouma almost giggles at how offended he sounds. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” well, this is an understatement, thinks Ouma, but he doesn’t interrupt Momota’s heartfelt confession, “but I don’t want you to end up in Azkaban. You don’t deserve it.”

Ouma opens his mouth to cut in with some ridiculous remark but Momota is faster, as if sensing that he’s not about to take it seriously.

“Ouma.”

The Slytherin closes his mouth and stares, his face carefully blank.

“I mean it,” Momota says with emphasis, his gaze serious and firm as he searches the smaller boy’s eyes. Ouma has no doubt that he’s telling the truth.

Ouma takes a deep breath and throws his hands into the pockets of his robes, his fingers clasping tightly around his wand, and shakes his head decidedly, long strands of plum hair bouncing with the movement.

“No,” he says, but his voice comes out all weak and choked up.

He clears his throat, swallowing the sob building up inside and threatening to escape. He tries again.

“No.” He repeats and this time it sounds stronger. More sure.

Momota’s surprised stare weighs on his shoulders. He can’t blame him for that.

When Ouma speaks again he stares straight into Momota’s eyes and forces any traces of insincerity and childishness out of his voice. “I’m not going to run, Momota-chan.”

It sounds like a promise. (He doesn’t mention that he has nowhere to run anyway.)

Momota lets out a shaky laugh and if Ouma tries hard enough he can almost pretend that he sounds relieved.

“Okay,” breathes out Momota. “Okay.”

Ouma almost jumps when he feels the calloused fingers brushing against his. His first instinct is to swat Momota’s hand away but he changes his mind when he catches a glimpse of his face.

Reluctantly, he decides to allow it, at least for now. Saihara and Harukawa better get there soon, though. Ouma hardly qualifies as a recommended source of comfort. Besides, hasn’t he done enough today? He’ll have to start to charge them for an hour.

When the first rays of sunshine peek over the horizon and the warm shades of gold and red frame Momota’s face like a halo, Ouma thinks that maybe there are heroes in this story after all.

Momota’s hand feels warm in his.

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dcusrclicta · 5 years

Text

Character Bios

Parenthesis means they have a Harry Potter AU verse

Name: Severus Tobias Snape Year: Cute. House: Slytherin Blood Status: Befouler Antichrist Eye colour: Cobalt nowadays Age: Old enough to say no. Birthdate: 1/9 Height: 6′7 Patronus: Horned Viper Description: I still hate my job. I still hate people. I’m just immortal now. Please leave my office & don’t touch anything on your way out.

Name: Brittnay Matthews Year: College Junior (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: Human (Pureblood) Eye colour: Blue Age: 21 Birthdate: 6/15 Height: 5′5 (Patronus: Pitbull) Description: Cross me & I’ll hurt you. Otherwise I’m Brittnay Matthews you’re new best friend. People think I’m arrogant but in reality they’re angry I’m better than them. I used to go to Overland Park high school. I’m glad I don’t anymore.

Name: Rhaegar Daeron Targaryen (Year: Graduated/Verse Dependant) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: ??? Eye colour: Violet Age: 34 Nameday: All I remember was being born in the high summer Height: 7’1 (Patronus: Hungarian Horntail) Description: I’m believed to be dead. Walking about when one is believed to be dead is actually quite boring no matter how much it may benefit the Realm. I do admit I made. Many mistakes however in my defence not all prophecies are interpreted in a straight forward manner. I did better than any of you would have in the situation so save your criticism for until you watch a man identical to you get his chest caved in by a war hammer.

Name: Lilith “Lily” Sophie Evans Year: Graduated/Verse Dependant House: Slytherin Blood Status: Demon/Witch Eye colour: Green/Blue/ Sometimes they go crimson. Age: Doesn’t matter. I won’t die. Birthdate: 1/30 Height: 5’3 Patronus: Bold of you to assume I have one Description: My sister was right. I’m a freak. Even my parents saw something... Wrong in me when I was younger. They tried to pretend I was fine. ”Just a few odd occurrences here & there.” Until an older boy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself suddenly found that a hand could very easily be turned inside out. In the long run it was a good result. They found quite a bit of child pornography in his little hovel of a bedroom. My parents knew I did it but couldn’t quite figure out how until the Hogwarts letter came. They were both horrified & relieved. But to make a long story short. Once I met Severus Snape & we put our interest in the Dark Arts together... I got WORSE. & it felt good. I became addicted to the draw of dark magic, occult magic in particular & now Tom Riddle wants me to tell him what I said to Lucifer to get this new body. I might tell him if he begs in the right tone.

Name: Brahms Hillshire Blood Status: Half-demon Eye colour: Green Age: 16 Birthdate: Don’t care Height: 5′11 Description: I’m a child serial killer. I want to play around in your innards. & blood. I want to play around in your blood too.

Name: “Andrew” Antisepticeye McLoughlin Blood Status: Computer Virus Entity/Demon Eye colour: Lime Green Age: 29 (Existing for 3) Birthdate: 10/10 Height: N/A Description: It’s better if ya dun run. It’ll just drag et out. Plus sometimes ya lot chip my knife on one of yer stupid bones. & I dun really li’e runnin much ta be honest.

Name: Chase Brody Blood Status: Human Eye colour: Blue Age: 29 Birthdate: 4/11 Height: 5′10 Description: Hey bros! I’m Chase! Uh, some of ya already know tha! Anti brought me here! He said it’d be fun an’ I trus’ ‘im! I swear ‘e’s actually always been kinda nice ta me! Besides the ‘ole threatenin’ the kids thin’ but we’re frien’s now! He says he’ll teach me how ta shoot a real gun someday!

Name: Brian Griffin Blood Status: Dog(?) Eye colour: Green Age: ??? Birthdate: ??? Height: 6′4 Description: I used to be an alcoholic dog. Now I’m an alcoholic. Not much to say after something like that happens. I’m really confused to be frank. Maybe now I can actually get someone to take me seriously & publish my book.

Name: Carlos De Vil (Year: Sixth) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: Half-demon/ Sorcerer Eye colour: Blue Age: 16 Birthdate: 3/20 Height: 5′7 (Patronus: Red Fox) Description: Hi, I’m Carlos & life is pain, only valid things in this world are only science & Evie Grimhilde, bye. Gemini De Vil is my midget brother who I love. Devil De Vil is my crazy ass dad. My mom is dead, thanks for asking.

Name: Danny Flint Blood Status: Shade Eye colour: Grey Age: Old Nameday: ? Height: 5′4 Description: Being dead was less droll.

Name: Eileen Tabitha Prince Snape Year: Graduated House: Slytherin Blood Status: Pureblood Poltergeist Eye colour: Black Age: Well. I died at 35 so let’s go with that Birthdate: 12/18 Height: 6’11 (Used to be 6'6 but I had this weird growth spurt two days before I died.) Patronus: Didn’t have one apparently

Description: … I really don’t have anything to say to you. I died, I decided I wanted to come back. Er. Awkwardly enough the old castle I was haunting is now inhabited by my son and his family. They’re all really bloody loud. No wonder the rest of the ghosts make so much noise back. And no. I have not introduced myself to any of them. I mean. Sometimes I talk to ‘em but I’ve never gotten an answer. Plus unlike most of the floating assholes here I’d much rather keep to myself, thank you.

Name: Griffin “Finn” Merterns Blood Status: Human(?) Eye colour: Blue Age: 19 Birthdate: 3/14 Height: 6′3 Description: Hey bros! I’m Finn, a radical kid that makes it his business to help people out and kickin’ monster tail! Mostly when I’m not doin’ that I’m chillin’ it up with my bro Jake in the tree house so as long as you’re not some wacko monster that wants to eat up my face you can swing by and we can fire up BMO or something.

Name: Henry Harry Jameson Hook (Year: Slytherin) (House: Seventh) Blood Status: Half-demon/Sorcerer Eye colour: Blue Age: 17 Birthdate: 10/23 Height: 6′2 (Patronus: Savannah cat) Description: All it takes is one wrong look & I’ll EVISCERATE ya... Taken by Uma daughter of Ursula. Ya want me? Ya have ta ask her permission & pray she likes ya & is in a SHARIN’ mood. Jamie Hook is me mum an’ she taugh’ me all I know about bein’ scary. Me da??? He’s a dumbass.

Name: Karl Vreski (Year: Graduated) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: Human (Pureblood) Eye colour: Blue Age: 19 (Typically) Birthdate: 10/25 Height: 6′1 (Patronus: Jackal)

Description: I’m Karl. Lacrosse. Tacos. Boxing. American football. Whatever activity that involves either Hans Gruber or hitting something? I like it. Tony’s alright. Good brother at least. Not at all annoying like the normal younger sibling M.O. Far nicer than me. I’ll likely end up being a lawyer same as my father. Boring but Hans and I are already working at the damn firm so it’s an easy job. I’m sure Hans’ll come up with a more fun idea. He always does.

Name: Tony Vreski (House: Hufflepuff) (Year: Seventh) Blood Status: Poltergeist (Pureblood) Eye colour: Blue Age: 17 (Typically) Birthdate: 9/3 Height: 5′10 (Patronus: Rooster)

Description: I’m Tony… I uh. I play some football. Real football not American. I’m Karl’s younger brother and… To be honest Hans scares me a little bit even if we’re all like brothers… Uh more often than not I just go along with their crazy plans because. Well because my brother says it’ll be fun. And. It usually is. Even if some of it’s a little illegal.

Name: Loki Friggason (Year: Graduated) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: God of Mischief & Chaos Eye colour: Green Age: Don’t be rude. Birthdate: Mind your business Height: 6′0 (Patronus: Corn snake) Description: I am Loki of Asgard. & I’m so fucking tired of all the gards.

Name: Beverly Marsh Blood Status: Human Eye colour: Green Age: 14 Birthdate: 8/26 Height: 5′3

Description: I’m Bev. Looked into that stupid clown’s deadlights & lived. I’ll be a loser to the end & I’m honestly real proud of that. Losers have no where to go but up, after all.

Name: Marceline Abadeer Blood Status: Vampire Demon Eye colour: Green Age: 1003, Approximately Birthdate: Unknown Height: 5′9 (Various) Description: Marceline the Vampire Queen, dude. Sure you’ve heard of me before so I wouldn’t be surprised to see you shaking in your boots right about now. Been traveling and terrorising the Land of Ooo for a while now though it’s nothing too irreversible. Mostly I’m just a radical dame that likes to play games as a very special someone once said about me.

Name: Nathan Clarke (Year: I died in seventh) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: (Verse dependent) Poltergeist (Half-blood) Eye colour: Blue Age: 17 Birthdate: 8/13 Height: 6′2 (Patronus: Some squiggly thing I dunno) Description: Hi I’m Nathan & I wanna die... Haha gottem!

Name: Richmond Richie Wentworth Tozier Blood Status: Human Eye colour: Caribbean Green Age: 14 Birthdate: 8/10 Height: 5′10 Description: I’m only afraid of werewolves & girls with eyes that are hard to not get lost in.

Name: Robyn Black Robin Blood Status: Poltergeist Eye colour: Hazel Age: Hm Nameday: Some far off winter Height: 6′5 Description: “The Gods above all knew his crimes The lord read off his lists The Gods above all knew his crimes The men's hands balled to fists His legs they kicked, they jerked, then slowed The crowd not once did cheer His legs they slowed, then finally stopped The crowd not once did jeer”

Name: Sadie O’Connell Blood Status: ??? Eye colour: Blue Age: 19 Birthdate: I don’t remember Height: 5′6 Description: I tried to kill myself over a boy who didn’t love me back. Someone brought me back & now here I am, I guess.

Name: Scorpio Felix Sepelio Tobias Exodus Snape Blood Status: Vampire Eye colour: One is jade one is cobalt and they swap sides frequently Age: 91 Died at 36 and it’s been a while. You do the math, mate. Birthdate: 11/10 Height: 5’3

Description: Surprise bitches. I bet you all thought I was dead…In a matter of speaking that’s still accurate. The greasy little snot did indeed best me when I was human. I respect that victory &even though I miss them.. My children don’t need me. I wasn’t good to them when they did. I doubt they’re aware I came back and I’ll keep it that way for all our sakes. There’s no point in asking me how exactly I returned to life. I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. Maybe Hell just can’t handle me yet.

Name: Thomas Marvolo Riddle Year: Graduated House: Slytherin Blood Status: Demon Fledging Eye colour: Blue Age: Rude. Birthdate: 12/31 Height: 6′4 Patronus: Hmmm, my little secret. Description: Join my cult. Satanism is actually very beneficial if you’re respectful. No. You don’t have to slit your wrist to join... Please. Stop slitting your wrists to join.

Name: King Aerys Targaryen Second of His Name King of the Andals & the First Men Lord of the Seven Kingdoms & Protector of the Realm (Year: Graduated) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: Human Mine is the blood of Old Valyria (Pureblood) Eye colour: Violet Age: Hm. Nameday: High summer. Height: 6′8 (Patronus: Gila Monster) Description: Burn them all.

Name: Ser Jaime Lannister (Year: Graduated) (House: Hufflepuff) Blood Status: Shade (Pureblood) Eye colour: Green Age: I’m dead. Sorry. Nameday: Does it matter? Height: 5′6 (Patronus: Munchkin Cat) Description: I stayed loyal to the Targaryens & they won. But I died when Robert Baratheon caved in Rhaegar’s chest... At least I got to watch him die for it.

Name: Daenerys Visenya Targaryen (Year: Fifth) (House: Slytherin) Blood Status: ??? (Pureblood) Eye colour: Violet Age: 15 Nameday: During a violent storm Height: 4′9 (Patronus: Blue-tongued Skink) Description: My family’s way is fire & blood... But my heart sings a softer song... & I don’t know which way is right.

#x: Words From His Mouth (Headcanon)#x: Well Then Write! (Character Bio)#c: All #((AHHHHHHH I FINISHED THEM))

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screamuntilyouwake · 2 years

Text

I posted 370 times in 2021

232 posts created (63%)

138 posts reblogged (37%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.6 posts.

I added 860 tags in 2021

#gigi does esc 2021 - 229 posts

#gigi does esc 21 - 228 posts

#eurovision 2021 - 222 posts

#esc 21 - 59 posts

#rayshippouuchiha - 45 posts

#random wonderful - 29 posts

#sanremo 2021 - 14 posts

#måneskin - 12 posts

#eurovision italy - 11 posts

#eurovision moldova - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 56 characters

#maybe the real poltergeists were the friends you made au

My Top Posts in 2021

lenny khur was only 19???

6 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 20:43:52 GMT

🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

7 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 20:15:08 GMT

james has such a thick accent

7 notes • Posted 2021-05-20 20:53:50 GMT

PARLA LA GENTE PUR TROPPO PARLA

11 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 20:53:24 GMT

a little bummed over swe qualifying but not croatia

super bummed israel qualified instead of Australia. especially with how israel thinks it’s ok to bomb palestinian kids.

montaigne was robbed

13 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 21:27:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #end of year review

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Note

They r both exorcists and pinning for each other aznd on one of their missions? Are they called missions? Well, the demon attacks one of them and spooky prompts happen!

yesSSSS

allow me to create this phantastic au

Most of the time, their jobs are boring.

Leaky pipes creating strange stains on the walls. Ancient, badly constructed houses making eerie groans as the woodwork bows and creaks. Families of squirrels or bats creating nests in the hollow spaces between walls. Drafts from badly fitted windows pushing ornaments off of shelves.

You name the spooky happening, Dan and Phil have probably seen it, investigated it, and found a non-supernatural explanation for it.

Dan & Phil Spiritual Investigations™.

They call themselves spiritual investigators, or exorcists, but most days they’re debunkers. Sometimes they’re exterminators. Occasionally they’re plumbers or handymen - and very, very rarely, they actually encounter, and have to deal with, a real supernatural entity.

See, what neither Dan nor Phil realised prior to starting this business together, is that most of the time, ghosts just aren’t that bothered with the living. Poltergeists are an uncommon occurrence in modern times, as it’s not often that spirits have enough of a grudge against the living to make their lives hell.

“We got into the wrong profession,” Phil jokes for maybe the hundredth time as he and Dan stroll out of Mrs Pasteur’s house.

She’d called them complaining of flickering lights, strange humming noises, and weird staticky areas around her house that made her hair stand on end.

“To be fair, we probably saved her from getting a nasty electric shock,” Dan says wearily.

“Way to put a bright spin on it,” Phil says with a giggle.

Dan rolls his eyes, but smiles. Phil sighs heavily, unlocking the car and ducking into the driver’s seat. Dan climbs into the passenger side, feeling far less positive about the situation now that he no longer has to smile sweetly for the client.

“I can’t help but think we’re qualified to do a bit more than pop round to tell old ladies to replace their dodgy generators.” Dan complains, resting his head against the seat with a sigh.

“Ah, there it is.” Phil says, turning the key in the ignition. He offers Dan a sympathetic smile. “Knew my pessimist best friend was in there somewhere.”

A warm, glowy sensation pulsates low in Dan’s belly, as it always does whenever Phil refers to him as a best friend. It comes, obviously, with a pang of yearning for Phil to think of him as a little more. Or a lot more, actually.

As usual, Dan turns away from the feeling, stuffing it deep down inside of him.

There’s simply no use pining for something - or someone, in this case - that will never be.

“Hey, cheer up,” Phil tells him, ever the chipper of the two. “I’ll drive back via the McDonald’s drive thru. Fries make everything better.”

Dan turns to him, offering a weak smile. “Okay.”

That evening, they receive an email.

This in itself is strange, because it’s 2017, and who even emails anymore? Most of their clients get in touch via phone, Facebook, or Twitter. They’ve received the odd letter, and on one memorable occasion had an honest to god fax sent their way.

Dan opens their business email with a frown, putting his glass of wine down for a moment. He checks the time on the corner of his screen. It’s 11:03pm.

Pretty late for a client to get in contact.

“Hey, we just got an email,” Dan says; he feels Phil look up from whatever he’s doing on his laptop on the other end of the sofa.

“Really? Who from?”

Dan glances at the sender email address. “Someone called Brian Coulter.”

“How’s his generator?”

Dan snorts, rolling his eyes. He scans the email vaguely, not really expecting to find anything worth their time. “He’s twenty-nine, lives alone, two cats…”

“The dream.” Phil sighs, and Dan laughs, though his heart stings a bit.

He and Phil don’t exactly live together by choice, he knows, as flats are expensive in London, and it makes sense for them to share this tiny place than struggle to afford two separate ones. It’s a convenience thing too, because they’re business partners, and it means they can use this place as an ‘office’ as well as a home. Dan gets it, but he likes living with Phil. It’s painful to be reminded of the fact that if Phil had a choice, he probably wouldn’t choose to live with Dan.

But again, there’s no point in sulking about it. Dan pushes the thoughts away.

“He’s been experiencing some weird things ever since he had a lucid dream a few nights ago.” Dan mutters, skimming the long paragraphs of this guy’s rambly email. “Skittish cats, knocks on his door in the night, objects moving around, whispering noises… oh, he attached a video file.”

Phil sits up straight, shuffling closer to Dan so he can see the screen. Dan immediately grows warm, swallowing as he feels Phil’s chest and shoulder press against his. They’re both in thin t-shirts and loose sweatpants. They wear comfy clothes around the flat as much as possible because they dress in suits for work, and those are as uncomfortable as hell.

Phil’s t-shirt is space-themed, with a massive kitten on the front shooting laserbeams out of its eyes. Dan loves that t-shirt with all his heart. He loves Phil in it even more.

“A video file?” Phil asks, obviously unaware of Dan’s sudden shift in mood.

Dan can hear one of their hearts beating so loudly it’s like it’s vibrating his bones beneath the skin. He tries to ignore it, moving the mouse shakily to click the attached file.

A thirty second clip plays. The camera is completely static, as if left on a shelf somewhere. A fairly normal-looking apartment interior fills the frame, entirely devoid of activity aside from a cat wandering across the floor at 0:23 seconds.

Phil turns towards Dan, obviously perplexed. Dan can feel Phil’s eyes boring into him, but he doesn’t trust himself to look Phil in the face when he’s this close.

“I don’t get it,” Phil says. “Go back to the email.”

Dan does, and they both read it through silently. At the bottom, there’s a P.S from Brian.

‘P.S. I attached a video in case you need proof or whatever. Not sure how this all works. Watch carefully, focus on the curtain by the back window. I leave a camera running overnight now to catch anything weird that might be happening while I’m asleep. This was taken at about 3 in the morning.’

“Okay, go back to the video.” Phil instructs, so Dan clicks it again. “So the curtain by the back window… there it is.”

Phil points to the place on the screen, and Dan nods, clicking play. They watch avidly, zeroing in on this one spot.

At around 0:13 seconds, they both gasp. First, the curtain twitches. It’s a very slight movement, barely noticeable unless you were looking closely. Then, in what is possibly the most disturbing thing Dan has ever witnessed, a small, white, claw-like hand curls around the very edge of the curtain.

Dan closes the video, sick with terror. He whips around to face Phil, utterly traumatised.

“Oh my God.” Dan says, his own expression mirrored in Phil’s glazed blue eyes. “That was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hoax?” Phil croaks out.

Dan shakes his head firmly. “I don’t think so. There’s no way someone was behind that tiny curtain, it didn’t even reach all the way to the floor.”

“Worth checking out?” Phil asks, though he looks a little scared of the prospect.

Dan stares at him for a moment, waiting for his pounding heart to slow. “Definitely.”

Brian turns out to be a nice guy, which is a shame, because he is definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, being haunted.

He’s a bit nerdy, and obviously kind of a loner, but he’s pleasant and grateful to Dan and Phil for helping. He offers them tea, which they accept. He starts boiling the kettle and then pours milk straight down the sink instead of into the prepared cups, so Phil generously takes over.

“Sorry,” Brian says to them both, sitting down at his kitchen table. Dan takes a chair opposite, smiling in sympathy. “Haven’t been getting much sleep since… well. All this.”

Dan nods in understanding. “Don’t worry about it. Phil makes a cracking cuppa.”

Phil turns round to grin at them both, and resumes the tea-making with a happy hum.

“So, what do you guys, like, need?” Brian asks them.

The dark circles around his bloodshot eyes speak wonders about his state of mind at the moment. As do the shakes wracking his whole body. Dan wants to give the poor guy a hug.

At that moment, a cat jumps up onto Dan’s lap, making him yelp. Phil laughs at him, and Dan glares in response, stroking a hand over the cat. He can’t help it if he’s a little on edge right now. This whole apartment is giving him the creeps.

“We don’t need anything from you, Brian, don’t worry.” Dan tells him. “Just a bit of time to cleanse the place. Maybe you could go round to a friend’s for a while?”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure if anyone I know will be free right now-”

“Oh, not right now.” Phil interrupts, placing a cup of tea down in front of Brian. He hands Dan his mug too, and Dan takes is gratefully. It’s just how he likes it, of course. “We’ll have to come back at night. That’s when entities are most prevalent. About three in the morning, usually.”

“Three in the morning?” Brian exclaims, shocked.

Dan nods, grimacing. “Spirits tend to have most power when the veil is at its thinnest. That’s when the living world is at its quietest.”

“When everyone’s asleep.” Phil adds. “Well, everyone sane, anyway.”

“God, you guys must have such crazy lives.” Brian says, shaking his head in wonder. “How do you cope?”

Phil chuckles, and Dan sighs as he strokes the cat on his knee. He wonders what Brian would do with the knowledge that, generally, their lives are shockingly mediocre. The cat starts to purr.

“We’ve got each other.” Phil says unexpectedly. Dan sips tea, trying not to dwell on the words.

“I can’t believe you brought pyjamas.” Dan says with a chuckle.

Phil turns around, the picture of indignation in his Buffy the Vampire Slayer shirt and baggy Muppets pyjama bottoms. He pushes the glasses up his nose with a huff.

“You’ll be sorry when it’s bedtime and you have to sleep in your suit.” Phil says, turning back to fiddle with his monitor.

“We’re not supposed to be sleeping!” Dan protests. “We’re here to catch a ghost!”

“So what were you planning to do until 3am?” Phil asks. “Braid my hair? Share first kiss stories? Snuggle?”

The blood rushes to Dan’s cheeks so quickly it makes him feel a little dizzy. He turns away with an eyeroll, not trusting himself to respond for a few seconds.

“I just like to maintain at least an air of professionalism is all.” Dan says haughtily, making Phil laugh.

“Is that why you’ve taken your suit jacket off to make a bed for the cat?”

Dan glances over at Pepper, Brian’s grey bobtail cat, with whom he’s made a close bond already. Pepper is currently curled up on his suit jacket, it’s true, but it’s not really fair of Phil to say that Dan specifically put it there for him to lie on.

“He likes my smell, okay?” Dan says huffily, and Phil giggles, walking over to him.

Phil leans in, burying his face in Dan’s neck and takes a long sniff. Dan squirms, batting him away, though he can feel his heart racing.

“Yeah, can’t really blame him to be honest.”

“Shut up,” Dan mumbles, and Phil laughs. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yep,” Phil says brightly, “all set up. Alarm will go off as soon as any electromagnetic disturbance is felt.”

“Not that it’ll wake you up,” Dan grumbles. “Mister I-didn’t-hear-the-postman every fucking morning.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper!” Phil argues, though he’s giggling. “You can wake me up anyway. You’ll be next to me, after all.”

Dan’s heart stutters, and he almost drops the audio equipment in his hands. “Um, what?”

“You’re not really planning on staying up until three, are you?” Phil asks, tilting his head to one side.

Dan thinks about it, and quickly decides that staying awake until the wee hours, alone, in a haunted apartment does not sound like fun.

“Um, no, probably not I guess.”

“So, we’ll have to share.” Phil says matter-of-factly, shrugging as though it’s nothing.

“Share…”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “Yes, share. Share the bed.”

Dan’s heart actually stops for a moment, he’s sure. “R-really?”

Phil gives him a weird look. “Unless you see another bed in here?”

“I could take the sofa…” Dan says, glancing over at it unsurely.

It’s barely big enough to fit Brian’s other cat, Cayenne, who is currently sprawled across the length of it.

“You’re not taking the sofa.” Phil says firmly, his voice weirdly harsh.

Dan just watches in surprise as Phil walks past him to the kitchen for what is no doubt his tenth cup of coffee of the day.

End of discussion, apparently.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna take your trousers off?”

“Stop trying to get me out of my pants, Phil, Christ.”

Phil giggles, but Dan doesn’t think he could laugh if he tried. “I just think you’re gonna be uncomfy-”

“I’m fine.” Dan grits out, and Phil stops talking, mercifully.

This is unbearable. Dan was expecting a trying night, but the idea that he might have to share a bed with Phil in a haunted flat never even occurred to him.

He and Phil have shared a bed once before, a couple of years ago, when they took a case in Scotland. They never have any money - this job, unsurprisingly, does not pay well - so they’d booked a room in a hostel, not realising they’d have to squeeze into one bed.

There had been another bed in the room, which is why they booked it, but they hadn’t realised that this other bed would be occupied by two other hostel-ers.

The other guests had been a young, tipsy couple on holiday. They’d had what they probably thought was quiet, muffled sex several times throughout the night. Dan hadn’t slept a wink, and spent the whole night trying not to relate the sexual noises filling the room to the boy beside him who he’s been desperately in love with since they met.

Until now, Dan has thought of that night as the worst of his life. This might take the crown, however.

“Are you scared?” Phil asks out of nowhere.

“Not really,” Dan says, truthfully.

“Yeah, me neither.” Phil admits. There’s a jostle as Phil moves around. Dan is facing away from him - an act of self-preservation - but he can still sense Phil’s every movement and breath. “It’s early though.”

“Just don’t scream if you hear something.” Dan says, and Phil laughs.

“We both know you’re the screamer, Dan.” Phil jokes, then pauses. “That sounded way dirtier than I intended.”

Dan groans; this night is going to kill him. Whether he dies of frustration or the ghost is anybody’s guess.

“Not like I would know, I suppose.” Phil says thoughtfully.

Dan wants to curl up and die, suddenly. What the fuck is Phil playing at right now? He turns over, against his better judgement, to stare at Phil in bewilderment.

“Sorry, is that an area you’re interested in?”

Phil grins, his tongue poking out through his teeth. “Well, since we’re having a slumber party, might as well share secrets.” Dan just stares at him in wonder. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A screamer.” Phil answers. “In bed, I mean.”

Dan blushes hard, but it’s dark, so he doesn’t think Phil notices. “I’m not answering that.”

“That’s a yes.” Phil says around a laugh. He pokes Dan in the side, making him yelp. “Knew it.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Dan growls; he should turn back to face the other way, he knows, but he can’t make himself look away from Phil’s tired, mischievous face. “What about you, then?”

Phil grins again, winking at Dan. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Yes, Dan shouts in his mind. I would.

“No, actually, I don’t care.” Dan lies easily. “Now let’s go to sleep, for fuck’s sake. We’ve got to fight a damn ghost in a few hours.”

Phil giggles, but, mercifully, shuts his eyes.

A scraping sound wakes Dan up.

It sounds like metal dragging across stone. It’s grating and rough, sending shudders through Dan’s whole body.

He reaches for his phone, which he put on one of Brian’s bedside tables. It’s only as he moves that he notices there’s a weight across his middle. He freezes, mind instantly projecting to the ghost, but then he remembers he’s not alone in this bed.

He swallows, trying to make sense of the situation. He reaches down to touch whatever it is draped over him. The first thing he feels is warmth. He knows instinctively what it is, and he wants to cry, suddenly.

This isn’t fair.

Dan shifts a little, trying to feel out how trapped he is. Phil’s arm is completely wrapped around him. Dan realises for the first time that he can feel warm, soft gusts of air across the back of his neck.

Breaths, Dan realises.

Phil’s breaths.

Dan’s heart picks up its pace.

Phil is basically spooning him right now. What the fuck is he supposed to do in this situation?

He grabs his phone, praying that the movement might stir Phil into moving away from him, even unconsciously.

The time reads 3:02am.

The grating noise sounds again, reverberating through the room, cutting through Dan’s sleep-fog. He clasps Phil’s forearm out of instinct, heart pounding suddenly.

“Wuh?”

Fuck, he woke Phil up.

“Phil, there’s something outside the door.”

“Where are we?”

Dan rolls his eyes, struggling to turn over. Phil’s arm is a dead weight over him, practically pinning him down. He manages to get himself laying on his back, after some shifting.

“We’re at Brian’s, remember?” Dan says. “We’re here to de-ghost his flat.”

Phil yawns, shifting about. His arm tightens around Dan’s middle, pulling him against his chest.

“Hm, sleepy.” Phil says, then buries his face in Dan’s shoulder.

“Phil, wake up.” Dan says through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the ache in his chest at having Phil willingly tug himself closer to Dan in this context. “There’s a fucking ghost outside.”

Not knowing what else to do, Dan kicks Phil in the leg. It works, and Phil yanks his arm away from Dan’s torso with a yelp.

“Ow!”

“Shh!”

“What the-”

An enormous bang resounds through the air, sounding like something throwing itself at the bedroom door. Dan squeals, scrambling upright.

“Fuck, that’s-”

“An angry ghost, yeah.” Dan finishes. “Come on, let’s get up.”

Phil nods, seeming a little bleary still. He finds his glasses and slides them on, then joins Dan in vacating the bed. Together, they move quietly towards the door.

“I don’t want to open this door.” Dan says.

“Me neither.” Phil replies. “Maybe we should just go back to bed?”

Dan is in the middle of sending Phil a scornful look that he’s pretty sure is lost to the darkness when another enormous bang strikes the door in front of them.

“Fuck!” Dan cries. “I wish it would chill the fuck out.”

“Excuse me?” Phil says loudly. “Mister ghost? Or Miss ghost, whomever. Please could you stop banging on the door. We’re going to open it now and neither of us are very good at dealing with jump scares.”

“Phil, you are the worst exorcist ever.”

“It’s stopped banging on the door, hasn’t it?”

Dan rolls his eyes, but has to admit that there is a significant lack of banging right now. He takes a deep breath, then reaches for the door handle.

“Wait!” Phil says, sounding panicked.

Dan looks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “What?”

“Don’t die.”

Dan just stares. “Thanks.”

Phil nods at him. God, Dan thinks, this night is so fucking weird.

He pulls open the door quickly, thinking of it like ripping off a plaster. As he expected, there’s nothing on the other side. Cayenne is still sprawled on the couch, and Pepper is perched on a nearby table, looking wary but otherwise fine.

“Have you got the sage?” Dan whispers to Phil, who nods.

“In my pocket.”

“The crystals?”

“Uh huh.”

“Have you checked the EMF meter?”

“Oh, no.”

Dan nods, and Phil creeps back over to the bedside table, where he’s left the EMF meter. He studies it for a moment, then looks up at Dan, looking alarmed.

“Not good.” Phil says.

Well, Dan could probably have guessed that.

“Burn the sage.” Dan instructs him, and Phil nods, fumbling around in his pockets for the herbs and lighter. “And follow me.”

With the familiar scent of smoking sage trailing after them, Dan and Phil make their way trepidatiously out of the bedroom, eyes darting left and right for any supernatural sightings.

“Nos eiciant vos,” Phil murmurs. “Ab hoc loco.”

He repeats this several times, and Dan tries not to concentrate on how creepy it sounds.

They stop in the centre of the room, looking around in fear.

“Do you hear anything?” Dan asks in a whisper.

“No,” Phil replies. There’s a silence. One of the cats yawn. “Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Was I…” Phil pauses. “Was I spooning you?”

The question slaps Dan around the face; he’s totally unprepared for it. “Uh, kind of.”

“Oh,” Phil says. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Dan says quickly, though it isn’t. “Let’s just get on with this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phil echoes. “Must’ve been a subconscious thing. Didn’t you try and push me awa-”

A screech splits the air, and something shatters above them. Dan covers his face with his hands, sure he’s about to be cut with glass or shrapnel. He feels something wrap around him, and realises belatedly that it’s Phil, shielding him with his body.

His hands fall from his face in surprise.

After a few moments, Phil steps away, clearly still panicked. “What the fuck just happened?”

Dan turns his face up towards the ceiling, noting the overhead light has gone out. “I think the bulbs in that light shattered.”

“This is one pissed off ghost.” Phil says, looking a little pale.

“You just…” Dan starts to say, but trails off. You just saved me.

“Just what?” Phil asks.

“Never mind.”

“So, shall we do the ritual, then?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, feeling a little dizzy for some reason. “Light the candles.”

They set it up hours ago. A big, bold pentagram on the wall, made with duct tape. Fifty candles dotted about the room, special extra-sensitive audio equipment, crystals, and an orb given to them by a shaman they’ve worked with in the past that serves as a connection point to the other side.

Dan recites the usual incantation, and they wait, cross legged on Brian’s floor, trying to concentrate on the spiritual energy around them rather than the cats wandering over their laps, poking their noses at the various herbs and trinkets laying about the place.

“You do that so well.” Phil says in admiration, looking so proud that it makes Dan squirm under his gaze.

“Do what so well?”

“The recitation. You sound just like you’re supposed to.” Phil tells him. “Just like they sound on TV.”

“Um, thanks.” Dan says, feeling uncomfortable. “Okay, so I’m gonna ask it who it is now.”

Phil nods, turning towards the largest candle, which they’ve placed in front of them.

“Quis es?”

They wait.

The candle flickers, and the EMF meter shows some disturbance. Dan nods at Phil.

“Ask what it wants,” Phil tells him.

“Quid vis?” Dan asks.

Again the candle flickers.

“Okay, let’s play that back.” Phil says, picking up his laptop, which displays the audio recording. He pauses it, and drags the playbar back to the start.

They crowd close to the laptop to listen.

Phil smells warm and syrupy; Dan tries not to focus on it.

The audio is distorted and difficult to make out, but Dan’s voice comes through clear as a bell.

‘Quis es?’

‘Timor tuus ego sum. Ego tenebris.’ A muffled, scratchy voice says.

Phil stops the recording, turning to Dan. “What did it say?”

Dan gulps, feeling his hairs stand on end. “I think it said… I am your fear. I am your dark.”

“O…kay.” Phil says, eyes widening. “Creepy AF, got it.”

He presses play again.

‘Quid vis?’ Dan’s voice asks.

‘Ut quid te timeret.’

Phil stops the recording, turning to Dan expectantly.

Dan really wishes he never learned Latin, at this point. “It said it wants to know what we’re afraid of.”

“Bloody hell.” Phil says, then leans forwards to blow out the candle.

This, it turns out, does not sit well with their new, invisible friend.

The windows begin to rattle, and the candles around them snuff out in a big gust of wind. Something rakes a claw mark through the pentagram on the wall.

Again, inexplicably, Phil hurls himself over Dan’s body, using himself as a protective shield. The windows stop rattling after a moment, and Phil sits up, looking Dan in the eye.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“You keep dramatically diving in front of me, like you’re my bodyguard or something.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Phil says like it’s an obvious answer.

“But what if you get hurt?”

Phil just scoffs, and Dan’s eyes bulge.

“Phil, you don’t need to protect me, I’m f-”

Something very strong, very ephemeral, and very scary shoves into Dan’s chest, winding him. It hoists him up off the floor, suspending him in mid air for a moment before hurling him, as if he were a potato rather than a fully grown man, across the room and into a mirror on the far wall.

Dan hears some cat-like growling, a splinter of glass, and someone shouting his name. Then, everything fades away.

Dan wakes up in Phil’s arms, and for a moment he thinks he must be in Heaven.

“Are you an angel?” Dan asks, head spinning wildly.

He can’t make sense of his surroundings. Everything feels filmy and floaty, like he’s watching himself from above.

Phil laughs, but there are tears streaming down his face. Dan reaches up to wipe them away, and Phil closes his fist around Dan’s fingers.

“Not yet,” Phil replies, smiling. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”

Dan shakes his head. There’s a strange sensation on the back of his skull, like someone has numbed it. It feels wet too, and Dan reaches to touch it, bewildered. There’s blood on his fingers when he pulls them away again.

“Wha’s going on?” Dan asks, his voice sounding slurred and peculiar.

“You hit your head.” Phil tells him. “Don’t worry, I’ve called a doctor. You’re going to be okay.”

Dan tries to remember where he is, but can’t seem to place himself. What’s the last thing he remembers? He thinks he can vaguely recall waking up in bed beside Phil, but that can’t be right. That must have been a dream.

And a ghost, yes. A really mean ghost.

He and Phil must be working a case right now.

“Did th’ghost get me?” Dan asks, feeling panicked.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, smiling sadly. His pretty blue eyes are all watery; it doesn’t look right. “The ghost got you. It’s my fault, I should have protected you.”

“Not your fault.” Dan says crossly, irritated that Phil could think this about himself. “I’m clumsy. Where’s the ghost now?”

“I sent him away, don’t worry.”

“How?”

“Exorcised him, didn’t I?”

“No,” Dan says, shaking his head. “You’re crap at Latin.”

Phil laughs, nodding. “You’re right, I am totally crap. But I did it somehow.”

Dan hums contentedly. He doesn’t notice his eyes have slipped closed until Phil shakes him.

“Hey, Dan, don’t fall asleep okay?” Phil says, a concealed urgency in his tone.

“I’m tired,” Dan sighs, trying to keep his eyes open for Phil.

“I know, but you’re probably concussed.” Phil says; he sounds really worried. “Try and stay awake, okay? Try for me.”

Dan sighs in frustration, hating himself for being so weak. Because obviously he’d do anything for Phil. He tries to sit up a little, but Phil has him cradled in his arms still, so he can’t really move at all.

“Why didn’t ghostie get you?” Dan asks, still feeling very confused by the whole situation.

There’s a silence; Dan can sense that Phil is trying to figure out how to respond. He usually does that in awkward situations. Dan will just blurt the first thing that comes to mind, but Phil tends to take a few moments to just think about what to say, and how best to say it.

“Ghostie had its reasons.”

Dan’s brow furrows. He thinks back to the ghost in question, trying to remember any details about it. He thinks they did a ritual to speak with it, and he thinks it said something like ‘quod paves?’, which means ‘what are you afraid of?’.

“It wanted to scare you,” Dan surmises. Phil chews his lip, then nods. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Phil asks.

“If it wanted to scare you, why did it hurt me?”

Phil sighs, then strokes a hand over Dan’s hair, smiling. “It wanted to give me the worst scare possible.”

“An’ what’s that?” Dan asks dumbly.

Someone bursts through the door, several someones in fact, and they lift Dan up, onto a sort of bed, and then into a van with bright, flashy lights.

Phil follows along, clasping his hand and not letting it go, which is so, so nice of him. He doesn’t have to do that, Dan thinks dazedly, but he clings to Phil’s hand anyway. He can apologise for the weirdness of it in the morning.

Later, after drugs and bandages and lights shone into his eyes, Dan is laying in a hospital bed. Phil is next to him, being very quiet because he’s not really supposed to be here outside of visiting hours. Dan has no idea what the time is anyway. Hospitals don’t really have night times.

“You spooned me,” Dan says, suddenly remembering.

Phil looks up, blushing faintly. “I didn’t realise you’d woken up.”

“I’ve been awake for ages-”

“No,” Phil interrupts. “I mean before. When I was… cuddling you at Brian’s. Spooning you, whatever. I thought I could be secret about it. I thought I could just hold you for, like, a few minutes, just to see, but I fell asleep. And you woke up before I could move away again.”

Dan is quiet, processing the words. “Just to see?”

Phil doesn’t reply.

“Just to see what?” Dan persists.

Phil shrugs awkwardly. “To see what it’d be like. To see how it would feel to wrap my arms around you in a big bed at night.”

Dan stares at Phil, utterly astounded. “Is that… something you think about a lot?”

“Before this case happened, I probably would have said no.” Phil says, and Dan’s heart crashes to the linoleum floor. “I mean, I would have been lying, but I would have said no.”

Cautiously, Dan scoops his heart back up, fitting it back into his chest. “And now?”

“I almost lost you, Dan,” Phil whispers, horrified by his own words. His eyes shine with moisture again. “I’m not going to waste any more time pretending I don’t have feelings for you. I know you probably know it already, and I know you probably don’t care, but-”

“Wait, what?” Dan interrupts, fixating on one specific part of what Phil just said.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Dan.” Phil tells him seriously; Dan tracks over his face, looking for the mischievous, jokey glint in his eye, but there’s nothing. “The ghost could see it a mile off. That’s why it threw you across the room, because it knew that’s what would scare me most of all.”

Dan chokes around a sort of sob. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you,” Phil tells him bluntly. Dan lifts his hand, pressing his fingers to his lips. “I think I always have.”

Dan draws his hand away, then takes a deep breath in. “Kiss me then.”

And miraculously, Phil does.

Brian sends them flowers. He attaches a ‘congratulations’ card, a ‘thank you’ card, and a photo of Cayenne and Pepper. Dan sticks all three up on the fridge.

His head still throbs, but it’s getting better. Phil has been working hard and has made them a new website, and new business cards with their rebranded image.

Exorcism wasn’t exactly a stable income on its own, so they agreed to broaden their horizons a little. Their new advert reads:

Do you have an unexplainable issue affecting your daily life? Do you want to speak with professionals with broad skill-sets, open minds and knowledge of all things mysterious? Would you like your mind to be eased, your fears to be soothed, and your worries to be qualmed?

Look no further! For Dan and Phil are here to help you.

Specialists in explaining the unexplainable. Ghosts, spirits, demons, leaky pipes, faulty generators, … we have seen it all. If you have a ghost, we’ll deal with it. If you don’t… we’ll find the cause of your issue, guaranteed!

Prices vary depending on severity of case. Supernatural cases are extra.

Call us now!

Their phone has been ringing far more than they’re used to, and they’ve had to hire an accountant to deal with their business expenses and taxes, but it’s worth it. At the end of each long, stressful day, Dan and Phil come home to their shared flat, and fall into the same bed.

Dan has unearthed every last drop of his repressed desire, and he pours it over Phil each night beneath the covers, soaking in the surety of Phil’s devotion to him.

They laugh often about how long they spent pining for each other, both convinced that the other didn’t feel the same. They share the tale of the ghost shattering the back of Dan’s skull as a funny getting-together story with their friends, as if it wasn’t the most terrifying thing either of them went through, to date.

But Dan has never been happier. He couldn’t have pictured a better life if he tried, even if Phil does wrap him in a death grip each night, and eat all his cereal without asking nowadays, and give him hickeys that Dan has to awkwardly explain to clients the next day.

Phil is happy too, Dan can see it. He sometimes touches the back of Dan’s head in silent reverence, as though remembering how close he came to losing him. He watches Dan do simple tasks with a broad smile on his face, until Dan tells him to stop being a creepy starer. He cooks Dan elaborate dinners, and tells him how pretty he is at inappropriate moments just to make him blush.

On the rare occasion they encounter a ghost, Phil still throws himself over Dan, and Dan still can’t get over it.

“I can defend myself, you know.” Dan tells him after one such time, his heart racing from the jumpscare the ghost just gave them both. “You don’t have to do that every time.”

“I told you, Dan,” Phil pants, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. “I’m not losing you again.”

#anon #ellen answers #prompts #prompt fest #spooky week #phan au #this was really fun!#thank you!#exorcists #fluff #getting together

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

Here are the first few scenes (~2500 words) of the new AU that suddenly grew legs and started going tonight. I’m not sure yet if I’m going to pursue this, or if this is more of an exercise in skimming off the top layer of whatever odd stuff is floating around in my head so that I can get back to working on the stuff I want to work on, but I would be curious to hear reaction to this either way. Tagging a few people who I know follow my Doctor Who writing, but anyone who reads this, feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you think.

Vaguely inspired by this post, fwiw.

Working title is Poltergeists and Real Estate (Do Not Mix) but that may very well change as this grows a plot and becomes less of a crack-fic. Oooor it may end up sitting in my over-populated WIP folder forever, we’ll see.

Thoughts? Lemme know. Tagging a few people, but open to comments from anyone. @praetyger, @megsann13, @claraaoswald, @puddlejumper72-blog-blog, @tounknowndestinations, @chipsandcoffee, @the-chumblies, et al

Poltergeists and Real Estate (Do Not Mix)

There was a certain amount of irony, Clara reflected, that her first reaction was I’m going to kill him.

Her ‘special friend’ had just cost her the sale of her grandmother’s house. Again. As in, not for the first time. This had to be roughly the twelfth adorable little family or nice couple that had stepped inside her ancestral family home only to turn tail and run before she’d even had a chance to tell them about the antique hardwood floors or the fully restored kitchen. At this point, her ‘special friend’ wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore.

The longer the house sat on the market, the fewer calls she was getting to schedule walk-throughs of the property. She was beginning to worry that word of the house’s strangeness was getting around the real estate community. If things kept up at this rate, she was going to be permanently saddled with an inheritance whose tax burden she could barely afford, in the form of a one hundred and thirty year old, gorgeous, sprawling, haunted house.

Clara used her key to let herself in through the front door, grumbling under her breath. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the cabinets in the kitchen began to rattle ominously.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, dropping her purse and keys on the small table in the entryway. “It’s just me.”

The door to the upstairs washroom slammed shut.

Clara groaned and buried her face in her hands and counted to ten before looking up again. “Listen, I get that you’re cross with me for bringing people by, but I am beyond livid with you, so let’s skip the part where I yell and you throw things and just agree to be angry with each other in silence, okay?”

The house went quiet in a manner entirely too creepy for her liking. If not for the undercurrent of petulant passive-aggressiveness, she might have actually been scared.

Not that Clara had ever really been scared of the ghost that lived in her grandmother’s house. He had never once made her feel unsafe, not since she’d first seen him as a child. But the sudden silence was still unnerving.

The top step of the staircase creaked once, as if to make a point.

“Still shut up,” she grumbled.

She went about the short list of tasks she’d come to see to, putting away the food she’d set out for the potential home buyers, watering the house plants, closing the curtains, and flicking on a few lamps to make the home look lived-in. Of course, she didn’t envy anyone who tried to break into the house while it sat apparently empty. At some level, a poltergeist was better home protection than a dog ever could be. For the right owner, it might even be a selling point, she mused. Perhaps she ought to rewrite the home listing.

Her chores complete, Clara returned to the foyer to find her purse where she’d left it, but her keys conspicuously missing. She sighed, hands on her hips, and turned towards the cold spot she could feel forming near the foot of the stairs. He was nothing but a faint wispy outline in the light of the setting sun filtering through the stained glass window over the door, but even that outline was familiar enough that she was able to find his eyes and fix him with a displeased glare.

“Where are my keys?” she demanded. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his behaviour earlier, and she was in no mood to play find-the-lost-trinket tonight.

“I didn’t want you to leave before I could apologise,” the ghost said, not quite meeting her gaze. His voice raised gooseflesh along her arms, as it always did, but she much preferred the low rumble of his Scottish brogue to the slamming of doors and rattling of cupboards. Not that she would ever openly admit that to him.

“So apologise and tell me where you’ve hidden my keys!”

“Clara,” he said, and she clenched her teeth against the shivery reaction she always had to the way he said her name, like it had been invented just so he could say it. There were days when she lived for that rush — and many, many more nights, in her love-struck teenaged years — but today was absolutely not one of them.

“...Was there more to that sentence?” she asked when he didn’t go on. “Saying my name doesn’t constitute an apology.”

He glanced up at her, looking more solid as the sunlight waned. “I’m sorry that I upset you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, your intention was to make certain I can’t sell this house, and don’t bother to deny it.”

He chewed his incorporeal lip for a moment, then shrugged. “I won’t deny it. I don’t want you to sell the house. But I’m still sorry I upset you.”

Clara sighed. “I have to sell it. You know this. And someday, I’m going to bring by someone too brave or too stupid to fall for all your clattering, and that’ll be that.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, his eyes flashing blue in the gathering dusk.

“It’s the reality of the situation,” she said evenly. Another irony not lost on her: arguing the state of reality with a man dead nearly a century. “So you’d best start making peace with that. Now, where are my keys?”

The ghost hesitated. “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “You could stay?”

“I never stay the night in this house. That was your advice to me, more than twenty years ago. No sense in breaking with tradition now.”

“I think maybe I was being overly paranoid at the time.”

“And I think maybe you’re acting like a lonely old man, now,” Clara snarked back.

“Alone in a house that you of all people are dead-set on evicting me from? I can’t imagine why I’d be lonely!”

“Keys, now!” she snapped. “Traffic is already going to be horrendous—”

“All the more reason to stay,” he said petulantly.

“But,” she went on forcefully, speaking over him, “I have tomorrow off of work. If you tell me where my keys are, I’ll come back first thing in the morning. I still need to finish going through all those old boxes in the attic. We can spend the day working on that together, okay?”

“You’re going to drive all the way home only to turn around and come back in the morning? Why not just—”

“Or I could spend the day doing something fun with people my own age, very far away from here. Your choice.”

“Oh, fine,” he said, shoulders sagging. “Your keys are hidden in the parlour, I’ll show you where.”

“Thank you,” she said mildly, and followed him into the parlour.

As promised, Clara arrived back at her grandmother’s house early the next morning, take-away coffee cup in hand. There had been a moment, whilst she stood in the queue to order, when she’d found herself thinking she ought to order two coffees, bring her ghost a peace offering to smooth over their row from the night before. Thankfully she’d realised how ridiculous it sounded before it was her turn to order, but she still felt strangely off balance as she unlocked the door and let herself in, like she had forgotten something important.

“Hey,” she called to the empty house, as soon as the door was closed behind her. “It’s just me, no need to go rattling the hinges on my account.”

He appeared in a shadowy corner of the foyer, smiling at her shyly. “Good morning, Clara. You look lovely today. Have you had a wash?”

She narrowed her gaze at him, trying to ignore the way her heart flipped over at the way he said her name. “Why are you being nice?”

“Because it works on you,” he shrugged nonchalantly. He hesitated, then added, “And because I really am sorry about last night.”

He ran a semi-transparent hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah, about that...”

She suppressed a groan. “What did you do?”

“Post came early today,” he said, sounding more apologetic than he had earlier. “I didn’t open it, but one of the envelopes has a rather official looking return address. I left it on the dining room table.”

She dropped her keys and purse on the table by the door and trudged off to the dining room, unable to contain her groan when she saw the envelope in question. Opening it, she found that he was right: property taxes were due in six weeks, the total even higher than she had anticipated. It was more than she made in a month at her teaching job. Even with the small amount she had stashed away in savings, she would hardly be able to pay it and the rent on her flat, and still expect to feed herself.

“What about the rest of your inheritance?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

“I put it all into fixing up this place to sell,” she said.

“Which I’ve made impossible,” he murmured.

Clara covered her face with her hands, fighting back tears and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Yes, he was the reason she hadn’t been able to sell the house to any of the dozen or so families who had shown initial interest. But he was also the only one in her life who even knew or cared what she was going through.

She felt a coldness drift across the back of her hands, felt her hair stir in a non-existent breeze, and wished, not for the first time in her life, that her ‘special friend’ was the sort of friend who could offer a hug when she so desperately needed one.

“I don’t suppose there’s a secret stash of diamonds in the attic?” she asked him, only half joking. “Or a map to buried treasure?”

“Your great-grandmother was a very adventurous woman,” he replied, voice sounding distant and thoughtful. “I don’t know what all is up there, but anything is possible.”

The attic had never been Clara’s favourite place in her grandmother’s sprawling house, cramped and dusty and full of ancient boxes that gave off a far creepier vibe than the literal ghost had ever managed to do. But on the plus side, it was also windowless, dim enough that he was able to appear to her in a fairly solid state and even move lightweight objects around as though he were a real person existing in the real world.

She had removed all the larger pieces from the attic ages ago, furniture and blanket chests and boxes of old clothes, all sorted through and distributed to extended family or donated to charity, or else restored to the best of Clara’s ability and set out to decorate the house in a manner befitting its age. All that remained were boxes of keepsakes, photographs and journals and old letters, small family things that required far more of her attention.

If not for the threat of the taxes due, it might even have been a pleasant day, sitting together amidst the dust and papers, slowly unveiling the history of her family, layer on layer, like an archaeologist digging through levels of sediment.

“Oh my god, these photos of Mum,” she said, turning the yellowed photo album towards him so he could see them, in all their early 1970s glory. “She must have been, what, about fifteen in these?”

“Her first formal school dance,” he confirmed, leaning in to examine the photos. “With that older boy, what’s-his-name. Your grandfather did not approve.”

Clara snorted. “Can’t really blame him. Look at those side-burns. I’m not sure I would have let her go out with him at all.”

“They had a huge row about it, if I remember correctly. In the end, your grandmother took your mother’s side, and she was allowed to go.”

“Why didn’t you ever appear to any of them?” she asked, flipping through the pages and pausing to linger on what looked to be polaroids of a football game. “You were here all that time, but you never talked to anyone until I came along?”

He shrugged. “You were the only one that was you.”

“Thanks. That clears it right up.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got,” he objected.

“I scared the daylights out of Mum and Gran when I told them about you, I was probably all of six years old at the time.”

“Five, I think,” he said quietly.

“God, five. I might have a heart attack if my five year old started talking very confidently about her special friend the ghost that lives at grandma’s house. I just assumed they knew about you, too. Why wouldn’t they?”

“I’m not sure I could have talked to them, even if I wanted to. And I never did want to.”

Clara looked up at him, studying his face in the dimness. Without direct sunlight, he looked almost human, almost alive, the blue of his eyes and the salt and pepper of his hair seeming so very real, so very close at hand. He still seemed as ageless to her now as he had when she’d first seen him, more than two decades earlier. Ageless and ancient, wise and funny, solemn and sardonic. She thought perhaps she knew his face better than any other, living or dead.

“But why didn’t you ever want to talk to them?” she pressed.

“Why do you need a key to enter the house?” he asked in response.

She felt her eyebrows come together in consternation. “Because the door is locked.”

“But why that key?”

“Because... that’s the key that fits. That’s the key that goes with that lock.”

He shrugged, most of his attention on turning the page in a journal he’d been perusing. “You are the key that fits. I don’t have a better answer than that.”

#Poltergeists and Real Estate (Do Not Mix)#my writing #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor #Whouffaldi #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #AUs #I have no idea if this is going to go anywhere or not #and honestly I would really love to get back to #For As Long As We Get #but let me know what you think of this #and maybe it'll actually grow into a full-fledged fic #This Isn't A Ghost Story

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