#was debating on whether to give her a fever coat

[multifandomwriter56]

His Little Spy: A New Start

A/N: So I have decided to add my OC to this series. I've been wanting to do this for a long time, but I've been anxious about it. But with seeing all these amazing writers who have been blessing us with their OC's; I've decided to share one of my own. Also, I am changing some of the storyline. I didn't like how it was turning out, so some things will change.

Series Summary: Anita Edwards is a spy who works for Tommy Shelby. She is an orphan and longs for a family. Will Tommy ever realize she is his daughter, despite them not being blood? Or will he lose her forever?

Chapter 1 Summary: Anita is the one who told Tommy about Mother Superior beating children and why the young girl killed herself in Season 5 Episode 3.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, OC, Polly Gray, mentioned other Shelby members and Mother Superior, mentioned the young girl (I named her Rosa)

Warnings: language, angst, talks about suicide, talks about death, talks about racism, talks about children being physically abused

Word Count: 1,812

It was a cold, depressing day at the Small Heath Sisterhood for Young Girls. Rosa, her best friend, had killed herself this morning. Mother Superior had told the girls she died from Scarlet Fever; but Anita knew differently. 

She was the one to find Rosa and told Mother Superior who threatened to beat her if she told anyone. 

But this was the last straw. Her friend is gone all because of that woman. Making her eat alone at meals, using a different soap then the rest of the girls. Anita tried to defend Rosa a few times but it never ended well. The only thing she did was make things worse for Rosa. 

She shivers as a cold wind slithers through her coat. A coat that is twice her size. She knocks on the door to #6 Watery Lane. 

"What do you want?" A man Anita doesn't know answers as he swings the door open. 

"Is Mr Shelby here?"

"Kid, you have to be more specific."

"Tommy Shelby."

"And what do you need to see Mr Shelby about?"

Ignoring the fact that he just called Tommy by his last name just like she did a moment ago; she raises an eyebrow. "That's not any of your business. If he's busy I can wait."

The man gives her a gentle shove. "Get lost, kid."

Anita's eyes narrow. She debated whether or not to just kick the man in the shin and run inside or if she should just come back later.

"Oi! Anita, is that you?"

She relaxes when she hears a familiar voice. "Yeah, it's me Polly."

"Let her through, James."

The man steps to the side, letting the door open wider so she can get through.

Polly smiles at the young girl, but frowns as the girl limps towards her. "Are you here to see Tommy?" 

Anita nods. "I know this isn't our normal time, but I really need to talk to him."

Polly nods her head, guiding her towards Tommy's office. She trusts the young girl and she knows, if Anita's willing to risk getting a scolding from Tommy for being out so late, then it must be important. It still amazes her how much the gangster turned politician's opinion matters to the eleven year old. 

"Anita, kid! Where the hell have you been?" Arthur greets in his overly loud voice. 

The young girl smiles warmly at the eldest Shelby. "I've been busy doing your job." She sasses.

Her smile widens when Finn and Isiah howl with laughter. 

"You little rascal." Arthur playfully growls as his fingers attack her sides. 

Anita forces herself to laugh as pain shoots through her ribs. 

"Alright, leave the girl alone." Polly can tell something is wrong with the girl, but she's not sure exactly what it is. She gently nudges the girl towards the door of Tommy's office. 

Anita knocks three times. When she hears an annoyed 'come in' she opens the door. "I can come back later, Mr Shelby, if you're busy?"

Tommy lifts his head at hearing that voice. "Anita, what are you doing here?"

Anita fully enters his office, closing the door behind her. "I need to talk to you."

Tommy gestures for her to sit down. Like Polly, he frowns when he notices the limp. His frown deepens when she doesn't sit, but stands in front of his desk. 

"Anita, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. She's not here for her, she's here for Rosa. "I'm fine. It's my friend. She's- She's dead." 

Tommy nods, staying quiet so the girl will continue. He can't stop his concern from rising with each word though.

"It's Mother Superior's fault."

Tommy's eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise. "She killed her?" He's recently heard rumors about how the Sisters have been treating the children. He was planning on having some men keep an eye on the orphanage for a couple of days.

"No, not directly." Y/n admits. "But she's gone because that bitch beat her all time. And she never deserved it, not once."

"And you do?"

"This isn't about me." She snaps, not only surprising herself, but Tommy as well.

The young girl hardly ever uses that tone with him; his brothers and some of the other boys, definitely. Even with Polly, he's seen her act defiantly towards his aunt; but she rarely acts that way with him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Shelby. Rosa has never been the center of attention and I think she should be for this."

Tommy nods in agreement. She never ceases to amaze him how wise she can be at her age. "Tell me what happened."

Anita explains why and how Rosa died. Halfway through her explanation, Tommy rises to his feet, going around his desk to lean against it. 

"How long has this been going on?"

Anita swallows, her guilt eating away at her insides, knowing this is all her fault it went this far. "Since you saved me from my uncle and sent me there."

Tommy's eyes harden. Most of his anger is towards the nuns; but he is disappointed the girl didn't confide in him sooner. 

Feeling the business owner's anger, Anita starts rambling. "I know, Mr Shelby, I know it's my fault. Rosa died because I kept this quiet. I should've come to you sooner." She starts muttering curse words under breath. 

Tommy watches the girl, reaching in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. Exhaling a puff of smoke, his anger disappearing. "Anita, stop muttering. And stop blaming yourself."

She stops muttering but even the simple order can't take away her guilt. Her eyes plead with him for his help. Ever since she met the gangster, she's always trusted him to help her; no matter what she needed. Abusive uncle? Had him arrested; even though Anita's not sure that's what he did. Struggling with her schoolwork? He let her sit in his office, answering any of her questions. Girl problems? He finds Polly or Ada for her. 

He's the closest thing she has to a father; but she knows he'll never see her like that. She's his spy. Her eyes record information that will help him with the company. She's told him a couple of times when someone has betrayed him. 

She's in debt to him. He saved her life and this is how she's repaying him. It's not much, but she feels useful; feels like she's helping the wealthiest man in all of Birmingham. 

She blinks rapidly when she feels a gentle hand on her cheek before meeting his concerned gaze.

"There she is. Where did my little spy go?"

"M'sorry, Mr Shelby."

Tommy shakes his head. "Don't be, love. Your mind went somewhere else, eh?" He says more than asks; taking his hand off her cheek and to the cigarette in his mouth.

She nods her head in agreement.

"I'm going to help; but I need you to do something for me in return."

Anita nods again, she figured as much. 

"I need you to let Polly look at your injuries." He points a warning finger when she opens her mouth to argue. "I know Superior Mother gave you a beating."

She snaps her mouth closed, annoyed with herself and with the older man. She should've known he would easily notice her limp. "Fine."

"Good. Once Polly is satisfied, she will take you to the Grace Shelby Institute, where you will be staying until you're of age." Tommy wished he would've just settled her there in the first place. The only reason he didn't was because the girl begged him not to.

Anita half-hoped he would offer to let her stay in his mansion. She feels safe with him and she likes to be around his son Charlie. 

She doesn't move from where she's standing while Tommy gets Polly. She hears them whispering but doesn't turn around. 

She flinches when there's a hand resting on her cheek. Polly comes to stand in front of her, her hand moving to her shoulder so she can guide the young girl closer to her. She sits in the closest chair before beginning her examination. 

"You silly, silly girl." She chides as she lifts the girls dress. 

Anita blushes at her words. She glances at where Tommy is; thankful he's smoking another cigarette with his back turned towards them. Her eyes snap back to Polly when she grabs her chin. 

"If you were never happy to begin with, how come you never told me? I would have listened, I would have helped-"

"I know, Polly. I-I just couldn't leave Rosa." 

The eleven year old jumps when Tommy punches the door; muttering under his breath. She silently asks Polly why, but she just shakes her head.

Polly turns the girl, gasping when she sees her back and bottom. "Thomas, go get my ointments." When her nephew does as he was told, Polly turns the girl to face her, letting her dress fall back in place. 

"Why did you not come to us sooner?" 

"This just happened yeste-"

"Don't lie to me." Polly snaps.

Anita bites her lip. "I'm s-sorry. I really didn't think it would be important. I know I should've told you how they were treating Rosa and some of the other girls; but I really didn't believe that included me. You and Mr Shelby always tell me to behave or face the consequences."

Polly shakes her head. "This is not an appropriate punishment for a child. This should have never happened. And don't you dare apologize again." She snaps the last part, knowing exactly what the child was going to say.

Anita turns her attention to Tommy who had returned during Polly's scolding; hoping he'll help her. She's trying to ignore the concerned, motherly glare Polly is sending her way. 

Tommy shakes his head, slightly amused. "Don't look at me that way. You're the one who decided to lie and keep things from her."

"You do it all the time." Anita mutters.

He lightly taps the bag of medicine on top of the young girl's head before handing it to his aunt. He can’t deny her words. 

"Tommy, we're shutting that place down."

"Already on it, Pol."

"Are you angry with me, Mr Shelby?" Anita has to know. Did she destroy her chance to ever have a family?

"No, I'm not." He turns to leave to give them privacy. When he reaches the door, he turns around to face them. "Finn is going to take you to the Institute as soon as Polly is finished."

"She's staying with me."

Neither Tommy nor Anita dared to argue when Polly spoke in that voice. He just nods his head before exiting his office. 

Anita slowly shifts her eyes back to the only mother figure she's known; relaxing when she's greeted with a small, sad smile. 

Tommy may not consider her family, but Polly does. 

It's a start.

#his little spy series #tommy shelby #anita edwards #oc #peaky blinders series

[ascending-the-abyss]

The room was dark and cool, the way Aisling preferred them to be. The gloom and chill reminded her of home - hardly the most pleasant place, with hardly the most pleasant memories. Still, there was something to be said for memories stretching back into a seeming abyss of eternity and whether or not they were happy ones they did hold some sort of sway on her. Naught but a single candle flickered in a sconce across the inn’s bedroom, casting long dancing shadows but nary any light; the hearth was full of glowing embers, the fire within having long since died and left little more than the smoldering remnant to give either light or warmth. And so, the chill of the Coerthan night had settled into the room and brought with it the nigh-freezing temperatures that bothered her so little.

Clothing was strewn hither and thither, cast aside as whims and passion had overcome the pair; sprawled on the unkempt bed was one of them, an unfortunate man who thought tonight was his lucky night and whose name she hadn’t bothered to remember. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, and a growing fog of confusion clouded his eyes as awareness, and life, drained from him by the second. Aisling lay beside him, on her side and propped up by an elbow; the dark gray of her skin all but blended into the room’s gloom, and any casual observer who might have happened upon them in the moment could easily have seen only two lovers in a state of post-coital exhaustion.

She would periodically move her free hand to casually, almost tenderly, brush back the stray strands of the man’s dark hair; the touch would rouse a soft, barely audible groan from him as he straddled the line between life and death. Aisling wasn’t sure which she found more intoxicating - the aether she drained from him bit by bit, sating the bottomless hunger that gnawed in her belly since time immemorial… or the knowing that she, and she alone, decided whether this man would live to see another dawn. No gods, no man, no living soul could decide his fate but her.

As her fingers lingered over his forehead she drew on her power again. She was hungry, after all. The dim room briefly illuminated in the most wan, pale shade of green as the living energy flowed from his very soul and into her. A warmth flooded her, radiating from her core and sending racing sparks of electric tingles down her limbs and into her extremities. A soft moan slipped from the both of them almost simultaneously - hers one of satisfaction, and his one of barely-conscious dread.

Aisling could see the flickering of his life, and she knew he couldn’t take much more of this. Dipping once more into his aether would likely send him from his fevered dreams into eternal sleep. Watching him toss feebly beside her, Aisling debated her choice. There was little, if any, moral hesitation in taking a life and the concern was mostly practical. The Brume resident likely wouldn’t be missed or noticed, but still she would have to deal with the remains… and the possibility of questions she wasn’t ready to deal with.

But, she was still so hungry…

With a sigh, Aisling made her choice. She leaned down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to his cool forehead and lay down beside him. The covers were drawn up over their bodies, and she closed her eyes to drift into an untroubled slumber.

The man would live to see another day, but he wouldn’t be the same for quite some time. What memories he would hold of the truth of tonight were a mystery to her, but she didn’t put much concern in it. With all luck all of this would be but a hazy dream of a passionate night leaving him drained and exhausted. If luck didn’t favor her, though, and dark whispers spread about the dark skinned woman with the penchant for aether… well, she knew where to find him.

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv elezen #duskwight #voidsent

[mysterioh]

mafia au + meet messy + 18 + bucky pls!

a cool combination! hope you like it!

Mafia!Bucky + This can’t be real. It all feels like a fever dream

Your mother always warned you to never roam the streets at night. When the sun begins to set and the street lights start to flicker on, take it as a sign to get home and get home fast. 

You were a good kid, and you listened to your mother. You weren’t roaming the streets at night. You were just walking home from a late shift, minding your own business. 

It wasn’t your fault a pair of manly dudes decided they wanted to have a showdown on the corner of Tyson and 9th. 

It could have been your fault that they caught you because of the soft gasp that left your lips when you saw the cool metal of a revolver glint under the streetlight. And it was that tiny sound that had you stuck in your current state. Wrapped in a stranger’s arm, your back to his chest with the muzzle of his gun pressed hard against your temple. 

“Put the gun down, Barnes,” Rumlow chuckles darkly, “or I’ll blow the girl’s brains out.” 

You struggle in his arm, turning from left to right to shimmy out of his grasp. You know it’s of no use. He has you locked in his arm, tight and with no intention of letting go. 

You look at the man in front of you. The light above him shines on his figures like a spotlight, accentuating his best features. Short brown locks, piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing what looks like a very expensive tailored suit. 

Who the hell wears a suit to a fight? 

The gun in his hand is pointed directly at Rumlow. From your perspective his target is you. 

Your heart beats rapidly, pounding at your ribcage. Sweat trickles down the side of your face and your legs are shaking. You plead to him with your eyes,  unable to even formulate a single sentence. 

It doesn’t seem to be working. His eyes were chilling to the bone. 

Rumlow shakes you violently, gun still pressed to your temple. You let out a small cry in pure fear. “Do it, Barnes! Or her blood’ll be on your hands!” 

You whimper in the man’s arm, tears streaming down your face. “Please,” you whisper. 

Bucky stares into your eyes, but remains silent and still. The blood of another innocent soul on his hands. To him that meant nothing. He had hundreds if not thousands already. One more wouldn’t change anything. 

But the look in your glossy eyes and the frown that’s tugging on your lips makes him feel guilty. 

You did nothing wrong so why should you pay for his crime? 

Bucky scoffs silently. There’s no real reason why he should care, but he does. The whispers that leave your lips softens his heart. 

He throws the gun to his side and lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, man, you win,” he says taking a few steps forward. 

Rumlow grins wickedly and let’s go of you. He pushes you towards Bucky and you slam into his chest. Bucky pushes you back gently with his hands on your shoulders. 

Oh, she’s cute. She’s really cute. 

He gives you a smirk that has you feeling more scared rather than safe. He quickly pushes you behind him as Rumlow shoots at the two of you. Bucky growls in pain as the bullet pierces through his arm. 

You’re frozen in place, feeling numb from the ring that echoes through the lonely street. Your eyes grow wide at the drops of blood that fall from his arm and onto the cement. 

“Get outta here!” he shouts making you jump. 

You quickly turn on your heel and dash down the sidewalk. Eyes shut tight. Hands balled into fists and swinging back and forth wildly as if that’ll help you run faster. 

Another gunshot rings through your ears and you stop abruptly. 

What were you doing? 

He saved you and you’re just going to let him die? 

Do good unto those that do good unto you.

That’s what your mother taught you. 

You turn back towards the two to find your savior hunched over with an arm holding onto his wounded one. 

Yeah, he needs your help. But how are you going to help him? There’s no way you could take Rumlow on. You need to think. You scan your surroundings trying to find anything that can help. With time running short, you start to panic until your eyes fall upon a car. 

A 79’ Chevrolet Camaro, lights on, engine running. 

A smile rises on your face. 

Bingo. 

“Just get it over with already,” Bucky rasped. The second bullet had grazed the side of his leg, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

He’d try to find his gun, but it’s too dark. Not to mention Rumlow would get to him before he did. He’s played with death before but this time it feels pointless. 

Rumlow laughs from the belly. “That wouldn’t be any fun. I wanna enjoy this.” 

Bucky grunts with a smile. Fucking psycho. 

Well, at least the girl was safe. 

Rumlow takes a single step towards him before being hit by a car. Bucky’s eyes grow wide in confusion. He squints because of the bright headlights. The car runs in reverse then turns around the bend of the corner 

You stick your head out the window. “What the hell are you doing?” you shout at him. “Get in the damn car!” 

Bucky pauses for a second still trying to process everything. He looks at Rumlow, knocked out on the ground. Not dead because he’s still breathing or wheezing. 

The car horn blares in his ears. “Hello?” you shout at him. 

He quickly runs to the car, opens the door, and gets inside. You slam your foot on the gas making the tires screech as it speeds down the street. 

The first few minutes were awkward. Both silent. Your eyes on the street. His eyes on you. You don’t know what to say and neither does he. 

You chuckle with a shake of the head. “This can’t be real. It all feels like a fever dream.” 

Bucky smiles, looking down. “It’s all real, sweetheart, I can promise you that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retort. 

“Then what do I call you?” he asks with a smirk. 

“Nothing. You don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours.” 

“How mysterious,” he whispers teasingly. A scowl forms on your face and he thinks it’s adorable. “I told you to run. Why did you come back?” 

You sigh, taking a turn. 

Why are you taking a turn? You don’t even know where you’re going. 

“I couldn’t just leave you there,” you replied. “You gave up your safety for me.” 

“But I’m a stranger.” 

“Stranger or not, you’re human,” you reply quickly. “I wasn’t going to let you die.” 

“I’m touched, really,” he says. The lilt to his voice makes him sound like he’s joking, but the smile on his face was genuine. 

You smile as you drive down the street. “Not to be intrusive, but what the hell did you do to piss off that guy? So bad that he was ready to kill you.” 

“Old gang rivalry,” he states flatly. 

The car halts and Bucky jerks forward. 

“You’re in a gang?” you ask (more like shout). 

“Yes,” he sighs, “now please keep driving.” 

You debate whether you should keep driving or jump out of the car and run away. 

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he chuckles. 

Your head whips towards him. “That’s not—”

“That’s what everything thinks,” he interjects. “Trust me, I know. Anyways, it’d be kinda pointless to kill you after I went through all that trouble to save ya.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble with an embarrassing blush creeping on your cheeks. 

Bucky looks over to you and gives you a wicked grin. “Don’t worry about it, princess,” he says with a wink. 

You huff through your nose and begin to drive. Bucky reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a box of Kent Cigarettes and a lighter. He pulls a stick out and slips it between his lips. 

“Help a guy out here, will ya?” he asks, waving the lighter in his hand. 

You roll your eyes and take the lighter from him. With one hand on the steering wheel, you use the other to strike the lighter on. A small orange flame kindles. Bucky leans over and lights the cigarette in his mouth. Once it’s lighted, he falls back into his seat. You switch if off and drop it in the cupholder. 

Bucky takes a long drag then releases a trail of smoke with a satisfying sigh. 

Good thing the windows were down or you would’ve died from the smell. You hated smoking. 

“How’d you hotwire a car that fast?” he asks.

“I didn’t,” you shook your head, resting an elbow against the edge of the door. “It was already open with a key and everything.”

“That dumbass,” he sneers. 

“I should get you to the hospital.” 

“No,” he denies firmly, cigarette stuck in his mouth. “I’m fine. I don’t need a hospital.” 

“But—” 

“I said no,” he snapped. 

You jump back at his voice and return to focusing on your driving. Bucky notices the way your body stiffens and the frown on your face. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I didn’t mean to yell, just not a good night.” 

You chuckle. “That goes for both of us.” 

You turn to him with a smile and he returns it. 

“Listen if you wanna take me anywhere,” he starts before taking another whiff. “Take me to 39th and Dahill in Brooklyn. I got a couple of friends there that’ll help.” 

“Brooklyn?” you question incredulously, “that’s thirty minutes from here!” 

“Then you better speed up,” he chuckles. 

You grunt. “What’s gonna happen to me?” 

Bucky smirks, tapping his cigarette outside the car. “You take me to Brooklyn, and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” 

You turn to meet his eyes, and fucking hell, you’re absolutely gorgeous. 

Your hair flows in the wind coming from the windows. Your emotions were not easily hidden on your innocent face. Confusion was evident in the crease of your lovely brows and in the slight downward curve of your full lips. But your eyes were different, pools of mystery and warmth, pulling him closer to you. 

“That’s my promise to you,” he affirms with a nod. “I’ll get you home safe.” 

You roll your eyes at him before averting your gaze to the street. He simply chuckles in reply as he looks out the window. 

He’s a stranger. 

Your mother always told you to stay away from strangers. But this one was different. His eyes were warm, his smile sweet, his arm bloodied—well, no one’s perfect. 

For some odd reason, you trust this stranger. 

And maybe by the end of the thirty-minute drive to Brooklyn, he won’t be just a pretty blue-eyed nobody. 

At least that’s what you hope. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes fluff

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 2/2

Martin does his best to treat the stubborn fool of an archivist. 

[CHAPTER 1 HERE]

Swearing, Martin rushed forwards catching Jon under the arms before he collapsed completely.  Nearly dropping him when he cried out in pain, the entirety of his slim fraim going rigid.  He was hurting him.  Christ! 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” Martin chanted, “w-we just need to get you sitting down, then we can have a look and it will all be over and-”  Jon made a choked whimper from in back of his throat as Martin dragged him to a chair, propping him up on the table.  Jon kept hold of his wrist the entire time, making their movements rather awkward.  Hoping he was strong enough to sit.  He was.  Martin dared to hope it was a good sign.  

“Christ Jon, what happened?”

Jon shook his head and winced.  “Jus’ wanted ice-” 

“Ice?  Oh, oh right!” Martin leapt up and retrieved a medical grade ice pack from the ice box.  Artifact storage had taken to squirling a few away incase of accidents...  Sasha had attested to their frequency.  The knot in his stomach tightened, had it truly been Sasha that had told him that?  Or the thing that had replaced her?  

Jon hesitated a moment before gingerly accepting the pack, curling it about the bandaged with a hiss leaving a muddy crimson smear across the plastic.  Martin gasped, he couldn’t help it and took hold of Jon’s bare hand.  Jon pulled back.  Not before Martin saw the dirty broken blisters, some worn bloody, the skin already stiffening and cracking around exposed wounds.

They locked eyes, the Jon closed in on himself in an exhausted fashion.  

“Oh Jon-” Martin started.

“It’s fine-”

“No- it’s not.” he stood “Hang tight and we’ll get that sorted, yeah?”  Without waiting for an answer, Martin flipped on the electric kettle and left to get the first aid kit.   

Another perk of Artifact storage was a hefty and well stocked first aid kit.  Jon had his head down on the table, breaths coming in shallow and far too fast for Martin’s liking.  It looked...painful.  

He took out a cloth and a bowl of water, aiming to have Jon clean up some.  He eyed the hoody caked in mud that hadn’t seemed to have dried.  That wouldn't do, he’d get chilled that way, if he wasn’t already.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.  It was no secret that Jon stayed nights.

“I-I think so?  Yes-”

“Good,” Martin nodded resolutely “Then let’s get you out of that jumper.” he winced, that hadn’t come out right.

“Right-’ Jon moved gingerly, his hand didn’t seem to work properly and he resolutely refused to allow the dominant one to leave the ice.  

Martin watched him battle the hem of the hoody, chewing on his lower lip.  Debating whether or not he should help his boss out of the layers.  Was this a boundary he was able to cross or?  No, the time for boundaries went to the wayside with the worms.  This was something that needed to be done, plane and simple. 

“Let me.” he leaned forwards and eased the garment up over Jon’s head, heart hammering all the while.  This close, he could make out a ‘what the ghost’ logo with faded horror lettering.  He hadn’t realized that Jon was a fan.  Jon hissed as his body protested the movement, making Martin bite back words of comfort.  His undershirt rode up exposing his torso and ohhh.

Bruises.  Black and blotched with red; bulging out of his brown skin.  Martin saw three, maybe four elongated marks and more discolorations before Jon peeled the sleeves off his arms; the shirt falling back into place.  They’d only been visible for a moment, but they looked deep, perhaps in contusion territory.  In which case, Jon really ought to get looked at in case of infection.  

Martin was just about to comment when he spotted the gory line carved into Jon’s throat. 

“What happened?” he found himself asking for the second time that night, insides twisting.  His hand flew to the wound trying to determine how deep it was under the grime and flaking blood.  It was still oozing, jagged scarlet edges giving wavy to a meaty pink, stretching clear across his neck.  There was a large dark stain on the collar of the light T.  His skin felt hotter than it should under his fingers, and Martin wondered if there was a fever there.  Given his state, probably.  

Jon recoyled.  It was too much, course it was, Jon wasn’t the sort of person you touch lightly.  Even Tim, who valued physical contact, was careful with Jon.  Had been careful, Martin corrected.  The casual side hugs or hand on shoulders had all but dried up what with Jon’s paranoia.  

“It doesn’ matter.”

“Yes, Jon, it does matter.” he sat back “We really should take you to an A&E.”

“No!” there was a touch of fear in his voice and his eyes went wide.

“Jon” Martin was exasperated.  Wishing this man would stop being so, so stubborn and get some proper help!  This was out of his depth.  Reminding him chillingly of having to dig worms out of Jon with a corkscrew.  How he had screamed under his touch-

“‘tective Tonner-” he began, hunching over, words blurring together “I-I don’ know if I’m...clear-” he took a shaky breath “Please.  I-I know, don’ have the right- for favors-”

“It’s alright.” Martin said with a grimace.  Though it wasn't, it wasn't at all-  The man had been on the run, stupid, how had he forgotten? “I-I get it.”

Jon huffed and closed his eyes.  Seeming to breathe easier.

“Then let's see what we can do about your hands.”  

Martin did the best he could to clean it up.  The long sleeves had prevented the grime from going to fare up his arms, which was about the only good thing here.  His hand was rubbed raw, the tips of his fingers oddly blistered and unnaturally warm to the touch.  He didn’t like it.  The dirt had gotten deep into the broken blisters, and he wasn’t sure how successful he’d been at flushing it out with the wound wash.  Normally, he’d leave blisters out in the open air to heal, but these weren’t those types of blisters.  

Once it looked clean to the eye, Martin smeared antibacterial ointment on, covering the palm with gauze and medical tape.  Hardly a replacement for a trained medical professional, but a damn sight better than what Jon could have done for himself.  

Jon sighed.  Carefully curling long fingers apparently testing the flexibility; keeping his hand in place on Martin’s.  It was hard not to notice how snuggly the bony hand fit in his own.  The weight of them felt...nice.  He huffed, irritated with himself.  This was hardly an appropriate time.  

“Better?”

“Yes-” he withdrew back in on himself, for an instant Martin did want to let go “Yes.  I-it does.  Thank you.”

“Good.” flush creped into his cheeks “Then on to the next one.” 

Jon seemed reluctant to move it from the ice pack so Martin did it for him.  He was deliberate and careful as he unwrapped the solid T-shirt.  If Jon’s hisses were any indication, this hurt like hell.  With each layer removed his dread grew.  Jon seemed to have coated the wound in some sort of ointment, making the badges damp and heavy.  That hadn’t stopped the blood from seeping through.

Martin inhaled sharply when he finally peeled the last of the bandage away.  

“Oh jeez Jon.” it was swollen, the palm an alarming shade of red and surface marred by broken blisters.  In some areas, patches of dermis seemed to be missing-  His stomach churned as though he was going to be sick.  

“I know.” Jon moaned. 

“Is- is that a burn?” he hated burns, they were his least favorite thing in the world, and Jon- Christ!

“Yes.” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.  

“Don’t suppose you’re going to share what happened there either.” he couldn’t keep the hardness out of his tone.

Jon waved a hand vaguely “Got a ss-statement, Jude Perry.”

Martin frowned, the name sounded familiar.  “Hang on, wasn’t she-”

“The church of the lightless flame?  Agnus Montague?” he grimaced “yeah.” and he curled smaller, placing his head on knobby knees and resting his hand once more on the ice pack.  

“Ohhh Jeez.” Martin was torn between wanting to ask more questions and not wanting….details.  Instead he pulled out his phone.  He knew enough about burns to know that they required special treatment, which required a bit of research.  Mindful to not look at the images the screen threatened to divulge.  

First order of business was to suss out the degree of burn.  It was oozing fluid, which meant it wasn’t a first degree, but wasn’t, oh lord, blackened- (he checked just to make sure) so probably not a third degree.  Then, type of burn, he skimmed through the list until “Thermal” jumped out.  That was probably a safe bet.  The article recommended seeking treatment by a medical professional if it was a deep burn, or if it bled.  Hugh, who would of guessed bleeding was a bad sign?  

Martin grimaced and sent a silent curse to Detective Tonner for spooking Jon away from the A&E.  

That article ended, so Martin went looking for information on second degree thermal burns.  His heart jumped to his throat.  He seized the ice pack from Jon and chucked it into the sink as though it had personally offended him.  Jon started and looked like he was about to say something when Martin headed him off.

“Ice can cause nerve damage in burns.” he said quickly by way of explanation.  Oh god, he hadn’t made things worse had he?  His mum was always saying he made things worse!  He took hold of Jon’s hand, inspecting it as if he knew what he was looking for.  The cold quickly fled under his touch, replaced by an unnatural heat.  Was that a good thing?  Martin had no way of knowing.  

Jon made a strangled whimper, his narrow chest hitching.  “Martin-it’s-it’s hot-” he was trembling again, but otherwise keeping horribly still.

“What?  Oh!” heat sensitive, Jon was heat sensitive because of the burn!  That was something he should have remembered.  Stupid!  He let go with a hasty apology.  Jon wirily propped his arm above his head, obscuring most of his face from Martin’s view. 

Running water.  The article said it was important to cool it with running water.  Martin crossed over to the sink and ran the faucet on the coldest setting.  Then got a glass of water and shook out a few Paracetamol pills for Jon to take.  

“We’re going to move you over to the sink.” Jon unfurled as if to stand but Martin stopped him.  “Stay put, yeah?” he doubted that standing would be a good thing for him at the moment.  Instead, he took hold of the back of the chair and dragged it across the floor to the sink.  It made an embarrassingly loud squeak as they progressed, but they didn’t have far to travel.  

Soon, Jon was positioned against the counter, arm resting over the sink divide with the water rushing over his hand.  He gave a relieved sigh, the lines on his face easing slightly.

“Better?”

Jon nodded.  Martin thought that he was going to nod off at any moment and had him take medicine.  He was pleased to see Jon didn’t have much trouble holding the glass and took it all down.  He set the timer on his phone for fifteen minutes.  

He hoped that the water would loosen the grime of the dirt salv mixture which would definitely be a problem if not cleaned away.  Jon had tried to care for it, but clearly hadn’t given it the same attention as he did work assignments.  It was at once frustrating and endearing.  

“Jon?”

“Hmmn?” 

“Would it be alright if, if I get your neck?” he seemed sensitive about that one.  Martin didn’t want to spook him again.  

Jon was silent for a moment, and Martin thought he hadn’t heard; then the soft “Yes.” came.

Martin nodded relieved.  Taking a freshly dampened cloth and carefully wrapping it about Jon’s throat, pulling long tangled locks out of the way and smoothing the fly aways back.  Noting the mud crusted in his hair and the way Jon’s eyes fluttered at the touch and seemed to be leaning in and oh no thiswasnotokay!  

He jumped to his feet, muttering something about “getting the tea” and busied himself with the kettle and mugs.  Making the brew how he knew Jon liked it like it was second nature.  Quickly tucking the tin with the legend of decaf back on the shelf.  Knowing full well Jon found the very existence of decaf offensive.  

Right- Martin thought, the burn.  Taking a moment to center himself, Martin pulled the table closser and flipped off the water.  Jon made a reproachful cat-like sound that caused Martin to choke.  What the hell was that?!  

Warmth bloomed in his chest.  Martin barely kept the smile from his voice as he soothed “I know, I know- just, time to get that bandaged up.” before remembering who exactly he was addressing and feeling the flush deepen in his face.  The sharp rebuke he’d expected, never came.  

The inflammation seemed to have cooled considerably, which Martin could only guess to be a good thing.  The blisters seemed a good deal cleaner as he patted it dry, the salv and dirt having washed away.  

Jon had been unusually quiet, so Martin filled the void, explaining exactly what he was doing and why “The article recommended non-stick bandages, no ointments or sprays.  There was something about trapping heat in, or infections?” he huffed a nervous laugh, peeling the material from their sterilized wrappings.  Jon hummed distractedly.  So he was listening after all- Martin could work with that.  The talking also helped Martin keep his mind of the type of injury he was treating, serving to calm him.  

As tenderly as he could, he wrapped each long, swollen finger, moving to the palm and thumb.  Jon was watching him again, he could feel those deep brown eyes focus in on him as he worked.  The burns covered, Martin switched to gauze and encased the hand loosely to allow proper circulation and accommodate any inflammation that may occur.  He told Jon as much.

When all was said and done, Martin took another damp cloth and laid it over the forearm, far away from the wrappings to keep them clean.  It was meant to further cool the blood flowing to the appendage.  At least, that was what Martin was hoping it would do.  Cold water on your wrists could cool you on a hot day, so why wouldn’t that principle apply here?  

That left the neck wound.  Martin grimaced noting how Jon’s soiled hair brushed against his throat.  He debated if it would be a good idea to tape Jon into some plastic and have him wash up in the Archive’s shower rooms (another accommodation for artifact storage).  Then again, the man had nearly collapsed opening the freezer.  So, maybe not.  He could try and wipe it out or…

The sink had a spray nozzle.  It would be much easier to use that.  Once again he bit his lip, trying to parse out if this was absolutely necessary or just a random excuse to feel Jon’s hair.  If he was being wholly honest with himself, it was a bit of both.  Not to mention it would be easier to treat the neck injury.  

“I-I’ll be right back.” he said, going to retrieve the shampoo and conditioner he’d never bothered to bring back to his flat and a spare jumper.  Jon was leaning heavily against the counter, but kept glancing this way and that as if keeping watch; starting when Martin knocked on the door.  

“Christ- Martin. I thought-” he swallowed hard “never mind.”

“Just me.” he smiled wanly “We need to give your hair a bit of a scrub down, get the mud out.  Alright?” 

Jon starred and Martin’s stomach dropped.  Sure that Jon hated the idea, that he hated Martin  touching him, yet alone treating his injuries.  He barely tolerated Martin bringing him tea.  Oh God, he’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about Martin, hadn’t he?  Hadn’t he? 

“You’re hair- it-” why was his mouth so dry? 

“I heard you-” the awkward pause dragged out where Martin’s heart did violence to his ribcage “Why are you being so….nice? to me?” 

So the paranoia was kicking in?  But no- this sounded different...the way his voice hitched at the end.  

“I-” Jon swallowed “I haven’ treated-you fairly. Wasn’ professional-”  Strained, his voice was strained and quaking like the rest of him.  

Christ was he going to cry?  If anyone was deserving of a good cry right now, it would be Jon.  But...Martin wished Tim was here.  That Tim was here and wasn’t angry with Jon.  That Sasha was here and wasn’t- there was a sharp pang in his heart.  How long had Jon known that Sasha wasn’t….her anymore-  They’d known him back in research, were friends even.  Martin had no idea what to do with a Jon so far off script.  

 Edging closer, Martin hummed thoughtfully “because you need it.” he said.  “A-and when I needed help with the w-worms- you gave it to me.  So now I’m helping you.  Okay?”  

“You shouldn’t have to-to put up with this-  M’ not even a person-” there it was again that strange quaking voice, he was breathing shallow and too fast.

Martin considered for a moment “No- no, I really shouldn’t.” Tired, Martin was very tired.  It was just sinking in that Jon had tried to protect both himself and Tim from the Not!Sasha?  “But it’s not you I’m putting up with.  It’s this place.” he scratched his forehead, he didn’t want to talk about this now.  Not the worry, the division in the staff, the things out there intent on hurting them, the disappearances, the fact they were trapped in a job where the only way out seemed to be dying, or anything to do with Elias and that persistent feeling of being watched.  He-he didn’t want to think about it.  

“So I’m going to push the table up to the sink, and you’re going to have a lie down so that I can get the dirt out, okay?”

“Yes” little more than a horse whisper.

 In no time at all, Martin found himself soaking and sudsing Jon’s hair.  His neck pillowed on a few rags and burn elevated above his heart.  As with before, Jon’s eyes began to flutter and he leaned into the touch.  He took his time working up a lather, rinsing and repeating until the grit on his skull was gone and the water ran clear.  

This was soothing work, he fell into his usual pattern that he did when dying his mum’s hair.  It was the first time that Jon seemed to genuinely relax; actually looking his age.  How could he of thought this man was capable of murder?  It was true he was critical, borderline confrontational with a nansty habit of pushing things too far and yet...he cared, at the center of it all he was very human.  Trying his best even with the impossible mess he’d been charged to sort out.  And Martin had grown to respect that.  

He worked the cream rinse in, teasing out the tangles; enjoying the way the black and silver locks slipped through his fingers.  Leaving it to sit while he had a look at the neck wound.  

It was much deeper than he’d wanted it to be.  The cloth had done its job though and the clean up was easy.   While sleeping in the archives, Martin had done a lot of research on sutures; just in case.  He took out the sterilized strips and started at the center, pulling the skin together as best he could.  Then worked from the edges inwards, laying the strips over the edges of previous placed ones till it resembled a railroad track.  Transforming it from the image of a closed eye to a straight forwards latus work.  In theory, it should strengthen the hold of the butterfly stitches.  But it wasn’t like he had instruction.  He finished up with ointment, gauze and a bandage around his neck.  

By the time Martin finished rinsing out his hair, he was surprised to find Jon fast asleep.  Tim had stories of strange places he’d found Jonathan Sims sleeping in research, with the funniest being wedged upright between two filing cabinets and curled into a vacant shelf in document storage.  But this was his first time seeing it.

Martin pressed a hand to his forehead.  There was no longer any doubt of a fever, with everything that had happened it wasn’t a surprise.  It was probably the most normal thing to have happened all day.  He draped his jumper on the sleeping figure.  It all but swallowed him in its soft folds, but Martin could still make out the labored breaths.  

Was this karma for lying on his CV?  If so, he had a few choice words to share with karma.

An hour, Martin decided he’d give Jon an hour before sending him home.  There were a couple of poems in this hellish day.  Wishing he hadn’t left his journal at home, Martin instead busied himself by tidying up and returning the first aid kit to its proper place.  Even managed to head off Emmet, the night custodian, before he walked in on Jon.  Christ, was he trapped here like the rest of them, doomed forever to be cleaning up after the archives?  Did he know?  Or was he as ignorant as Martin had been yesterday? 

Jon was plainly still knackered after the rest, but seemed steadier, a little more himself than before.  

Martin had taken the liberty of locating Jon’s change of clothing.  They were fussily folded, the collar of the button down even propped up with a bit of cardboard.  Handing them to Jon with a “We can’t have you taking a cab like that, people will think you ate a puppy- or something.”

Jon had actually smiled a little “Who's to say the puppy didn’t have it coming?” 

“Jon!”

He shrugged, shoulders shrouded in Martin’s’ knit, and winced “Just saying-it could have messed up the archives.”  he gave a side glance at Martin who flushed head to toe.  

He helped Jon to the waiting cab, having the thin man lean against him.  Using the opportunity to give him veiled threats on returning to the archives too soon and recommending an A&E.  

Jon had thanked him then, as he was gingerly placed into the cab.  Martin couldn’t help but feel that he was in serious trouble as he watched the tail lights vanish round the corner.  

#TMA #the magnus Archives #JonMartin #Jonathan Sims #Jon sims #the archivist #Martin Blackwood #fanfic #fic #hurt comfort #wound treatment #whump #archivist whump #cw self deprecating thoughts #cw wound #cw injury #cw burn #cw blood #if I missed a tag #tell me #AlexandeNight #writing #Did it! #finished my first fic! #figuring out how this posting thing works! #with literature that is! #this ended up being longer than anicipated #and took some time #why is it so challenging for me to write martin? #Also

[synoxshots]

In the morning there’ll be hope

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people. She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Yalla'ra meets with the ghost of her former master on Rishi, and begins the path to redemption.

One-shot. 

Notes:

It’s Yalla’ra’s redemption fic!

Based around the Jedi Knight class mission during Shadow of Revan. Much of the dialogue is lifted from the game, directly or paraphrased, as a lead in to exploring her character at that point in the story. Deals with the Incident with the Emperor, so there’s touches of PTSD there. 

2634 words. Cross-posted to ao3.

“Everything you've just heard? It's important. Remember it. But...it can wait a little while. There's something I want you to see.”

Yalla'ra whipped her head around, to be met only by the same empty corridor leading from their makeshift base. But the voice had definitely been real. And so familiar...but it couldn't be, surely not again after all this time.

“Who's there?” she called out, her voice reverberating off the walls of the otherwise empty corridor.

“Follow your feelings, and you'll find it.” A force presence flickered for half a moment before retreating again, as if daring her to give chase. But why now? Why here?

She inhaled, taking slow, deep breaths and bowing her head as she reached out with the force.

She knew where to go. She didn't know why, or what, but there was something she needed to do.

* * * * * * * *

The house in Raider's Cove was empty, a rare moment of peace amongst the hubbub and constant bustle of the town outside. The silence unnerved her at first, a sharp contrast to the roaring shouts of pirates and screeches of the monkey-lizards that roamed the streets freely in the Cove.

The room wasn't shabby, but appeared to have gone abandoned and unnoticed in recent months. Furniture was sparse apart from the most basic table and chairs, all coated in a thin, unbroken layer of dust. The jungle of outside had started to take its hold, potted plants and trees extending from their confines to crawl up the walls and spread their leaves, making the room feel smaller than it actually was.

In appearances, she was alone. But the force swirled around the room with the presence of another.

“I grew up here, you know. In this house, not just on Rishi. Of course, I was young when the Jedi found me. Don't remember much beyond the walls, a blanket, a few friendly faces...”

A cool blue light started to flood through the room, gradually taking the shape of a man she knew so well.

“Master Orgus, it is you.” She couldn't help the smile she formed when the face of her old teacher finally emerged.

“...it seemed as good a place as any for one last visit. Hello, Yalla'ra. It's been a while. Have time for a final lesson from an old friend?” He stood now in the room with her, a ghost fully formed and bathed in a blue light. Warmth emanated from his presence, a sense of safety she'd so rarely known since his death.

“It's good to see you, Master. You know I'll always listen to any lessons you have to share. But I have to ask, why now? It's been so long since you...” Her sentence trailed away as she tried to fight back the shudder the memory always gave her. She'd tried to forget it ever since, hide it deep down inside where even she couldn't reach, until only flashes remained.

The one constant had always been her Master, saving her, pulling her out of the darkness.

“You've been fighting without pause for so long, ever since you set out to defeat the Emperor, or even since you landed on Tython. You've been waist down in dirt and fear and blood. The war's gotten uglier since he fell, and dark times still lie ahead – for the galaxy and yourself. Maybe it does seem like a strange time, but time can always be found when there are lessons to learn. Of course, whether you act on my advice has always been something else, hm?”

“So you've sensed what's ahead?”

“Only a little, but I'm worried you'll forget why you're fighting. Truthfully, I'm worried you might have forgotten already. Defending the Republic, vanquishing the Sith, those are tools a Jedi uses in the service of life, of people – but they're not ends unto themselves.”

She swallowed and turned away from her master, trying to stop her voice from faltering. “You think I kill out of passion, out of hunger. You think I've embraced the dark side.” The tone of accusation undercut her words even as she tried to avoid it, but she knew they contained an element of truth.

“I'm not here to scold or tell you how to fight,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I'm here to help you reconnect. We're going to take some time out to help the people here. The ordinary folks, trying to make their living whilst in fear of guns and pirates. You can do more good than you know. And you'll feel why you're a Jedi.”

“But Master, I know what you're saying, but it can't be that simple. And I have an urgent mission, the Revanites-” she protested as Master Orgus raised his arms to stop her.

“Always in such a rush, never settling. We won't let the galaxy die because you stop to feed a child, I promise. Trust me, humour your old master, eh? There rarely is a good time, but I know you can't go on as you are.”

She sighed, trying hard to release her frustrations back into the force. What he said made sense, his intentions were pure, but so many other things needed to be done, and she didn't have the luxury of time in the same way as him. Yet she rarely won these debates with her master, and if he'd taught her anything, it was that there were some battles with him it was better not to pick. He could reach her in a way the other masters never had. A kindness and understanding, a reasoning he offered, that felt less like the lectures the council were all too happy to give when she dared disagree with their ideas.

And he'd saved her before, after all. Maybe he was right, and she needed saving again. If there was anyone she owed a debt to, anyone who deserved the benefit of the doubt, it was Master Orgus.

“Okay. Where do we start?”

“There are lots of people without homes on Rishi. Those people are catching Tanamen Fever; on Corellia, they'd cure it for free but here, no one much cares. Apart from you – Doc can treat a person in minutes, you've got a ship packed with food and medicine.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Yes, you do,” Orgus smiled. “No Sith Lords or ancient evils this time. Just doing a bit of good.”

* * * * * * * *

Despite her best attempts to heed her master's words, doubts still crept back into her mind as she left the house. Yet the more she worked, the more those words rang true.

She wouldn't be remembered for this, she wouldn't get recognition, but since when had that become so important?

Being a Jedi wasn't about rank and titles, or it shouldn't have been. But being denied the rank of master in such a public way had become a sore point that burned away at her, an undercurrent of bitterness rumbling inside each time she spoke with the council. Her achievements spoke for themselves, and everybody else saw that, so why not them?

Instead all they gave her were beat downs and admonishments. Constant scoldings about putting her emotions aside, not letting darkness rule her actions.

They had a point. But she wouldn't admit that when they only lectured her, and never offered solutions to resolve it.

Master Orgus had been different. He'd still been firm of course, but he actually helped her through her mistakes rather than just offering up the same old Jedi platitudes and then calling on her the next time a crisis needed solving with a lightsaber.

It wasn't that she didn't respect the council, of course she did. But sometimes it was like she was little more than the blade she carried, and they forgot about the person attached to it until afterwards. She was the best fighter in the Order, to the point it came as easily as breathing. She travelled the galaxy without rest, dropping in for the action and leaving before seeing the consequences.

But as she saw now, there were always consequences. Always people left behind at the mercy of the galaxy. People mattered – ordinary people – not just her enemies. They were forgotten too easily. She had the ability to help them, but she rarely took the time. But they were just as important, if not more.

Master Orgus was right. She understood now.

* * * * * * * *

She returned to the house alone, knowing she needed to do this by herself. Her boots were caked in mud and dust from her endeavours, her clothes damp with a mixture of sea water and sweat from her work. And yet, she was satisfied. Even as she'd tried to cast aside her doubts and understand her master's reasoning, she still hadn't expected to find the work so fulfilling. Even the force had brightened around her as she completed those simple tasks, warmer and more comforting than she'd known it for a long time.

Her master wasn't corporeal, but she could sense his presence in the room as she entered.

“Master Orgus?”

“You know, when I died – it's still strange saying that – it wasn't my victories that gave me comfort.” The radiant blue light of his ghost began to fill the room, taking the shape of his body again as he spoke. “It was all the faces of the people I'd helped that made the pain forgettable.

“If you last long enough to see the war end, how will you live? How will you find comfort when your time finally comes?”

She paused, allowing herself the time to think. After defeating the Emperor, she'd given thought to settling down. Running away with Doc, away from the Order, somewhere she could put down her lightsaber and be free from all the responsibilities forced upon her.

But defeating the Emperor hadn't been the end. The war still rumbled on: take down the head and a dozen more threats spring up to endanger the galaxy. She couldn't let herself stop until they were beaten.

The day's events had allowed her to refocus, reconnect. But how long could it last? A brief respite perhaps, but the war still raged on, and she could never turn her back upon it.

“I used to think...I wanted to leave my lightsaber behind when the war finished. But ending the Empire won't put an end to the conflict. The struggles won't just disappear, and I have a duty to fight that fight until the end.”

Her master smiled sadly at her, staring with his sympathetic eyes. “But when there is struggle, hope can still be found. There may still be a path for you to find simplicity. If it's what you want, I hope you find it.

“I've lied to you a little today. It's not just been about reminding you why you fight, though that's important too. But I know there's still an old scar you're trying to hide from. You've tried to forget, but it still aches inside you.”

“Of course...the Emperor,” she murmured, more to herself than to her master. It made sense now, why he was here. What else?

“You were under his control for so long. His darkness soaked through to your spirit. You pushed the memories of his training down so deep when you were freed. I can bring them back for you now, I know you're strong enough to handle them – let the light cure them and make you whole.”

She started pacing across the room, looking anywhere but at her master. Her breathing had become frantic, even her force-sight starting to blur.

There is no emotion, there is peace. She tried to cast her emotions aside, but she'd long struggled to find solace in the code. Feelings always bubbled to the surface too easily before she could ever release them into the force. Such a display was embarrassing in front of her master.

Was she really strong enough to face those memories? She'd pushed them so far inside, but had never shaken the fear of them. It defined her too much, ruled her actions more than she cared. At times she was barely better than the enemies she dedicated her life to destroying.

No. She mustn't let the Emperor win again. Her master was right. She knew what she had to do.

“I faced him on Dromund Kaas. I won't fear him in my memories any more.”

“Nor should you. Fear only leads to hate, as I'm sure you know. But today on Rishi, you felt love.”

Light crept into the room, slowly at first, until there was nothing else. Everything came back, all those months lost, flashing through her mind all at once.

It hurt, all of it. Every fibre of her body, every nerve was on fire, her head ready to burst.

It wasn't just those months. It was everything since.

The guilt. The hurt. The suffering.

She saw it all.

Their faces. Everybody who had lost their lives as a result of her actions. Not just imperials. Jedi, too. Allies from that fateful trip.

Warren Sedoru. She'd broken free of the Emperor, so why couldn't he? But she hadn't given him the chance.

Tol Braga. A part of her held him responsible, too. Putting them through all that, then turning to the dark side. Like it was all for nothing. She couldn't control her feelings when she met him again. But he'd always had so much hope. She could have helped him come back.

She blamed the Emperor for all that darkness. But hadn't it been a part of her before? There'd been light in Bengel Morr and Praven, but she'd been too overcome with anger to realise it. Sajar, who needed her help, and she'd pushed him closer to the old ways he'd been trying to free himself from.

But none of that was the worst thing.

That was remembering how good the dark side had felt.

How it had embraced her like an old friend. How seductive it had been, an electricity coursing through her veins. The power it had given her, unlocking levels of her potential she'd only dreamt of. It had come so easily, been so natural.

The Emperor had ruled her mind, but had she even needed much persuasion? Was it not the power she'd wanted all along? Had she not been reaching for it again ever since?

No.

Not at that cost. To others.

To herself.

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people.

She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the force.

Somehow those words made more sense than they had before.

The light retracted, retreating into her core. The guilt remained, but there was something different from before. Something she'd not realised she'd missed for so long.

Was it hope?

“I'm...I'm whole.”

“Then it's my time to go,” her master said softly.

He'd always had faith in her, even when she wasn't deserving of it. He mattered more than he knew.

“Master Orgus, thank you. Thank you for everything. For training me, keeping faith, saving me so many times. For all you've done. May it bring you peace.”

“It already has, padawan. You won't see me again, but you won't need to now. You won't be alone in the dark days ahead. The force is with you, always.”

The force was always there, she just had to remember to listen to it. Reach for it, let it comfort and guide her. Face the darkness in her past, but not let it define her. Dedicate herself to the path of the light. She would make mistakes, but now she would face them rather than hide them.

There was always room to change. She could make things right.

#oc: yalla'ra #my fic #swtor fanfic #jedi knight #shadow of revan #swtor #*deep breath*

[aurorasilverthorne]

Total Misunderstanding Part #1:

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Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Esteban, Shuriki, Armando and Fiero belong to Disney.

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Note: Elizaveta, Aléjandro, Llorona and Esperanza all belong to me. If you use them in fanfiction or fanart, please remember to give me proper credit as their creator. Thank you.

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Esteban wasn't prone to sleeping late. He'd been an early riser all his life, but he'd spent the night entertaining the queen, and had indulged in one too many glasses of wine.

I should've stopped at three...

But Shuriki had been in such high spirits and invitations to her bed were rare these days. Esteban had begun to believe Shuriki was losing interest in him altogether. The previous evening had assured him she still desired his touch.

Esteban groaned. His head kept throbbing like a pulse as he tried to go back to sleep and not think about the day ahead.

Dame Elizaveta Kapeka of the Northern Islands was going to arrive later that afternoon and that was troublesome. Shuriki always viewed other women as competition. Esteban should've been worried, but all he could think about was the noise their constant bickering would make.

I'm starting to sound like Shuriki.

Shuriki was probably still in bed sleeping off her hangover. He sat up slowly so as not to irritate his already nervous stomach.

Had he even eaten anything? He couldn't remember. Esteban was debating on whether they should just forego their meetings for the day when his bedroom door flew open startling him so bad that he fell off the bed. When he opened his eyes, Armando was standing over him, his expression that of a man on the verge of panic.

"Dame Elizaveta Kapeka is here!"

Of course she is...

Esteban hauled himself up off the floor. "Where is the queen?"

"Sleeping," Armando answered sheepishly.

Esteban gave the steward a half-hearted scowl then snatched his coat off the back of a chair as he headed for the queen's personal chambers. He managed to make it halfway down the hall before pausing to retch in a gilded vase.

Apparently he'd eaten something after all. Carrots, or corn maybe? Esteban didn't really care and he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

The drapes were closed and the previous night's candles burned down to the wick when Esteban stepped into Shuriki's bedroom. He nearly tripped over a pile of clothing before pulling back the curtains on the massive canopy bed.

"Your Grace?

Shuriki groaned.

"Elizaveta Esfir Kapeka of the Northern Islands has arrived."

"Who?" Shuriki asked her voice muffled by the blanket covering her head.

Esteban could tell she was still half asleep elsewise she would have launched into a tirade.

"Elizaveta? Older lady, silver hair pulled back in a braided bun? Green eyes? Any of this ring a bell?"

Shuriki pulled down the blanket to scowl at him. "Seriously, Estéban? We've met a plethora of women that could fit that description."

The chancellor sighed. "La Monstrua de Ojos Verdes."

The Green Eyed Monster.

Shuriki had thought she was being clever when she had given Elizaveta the cruel nickname. He wasn't about tell the queen most of the palace staff called her that when she wasn't within earshot.

Shuriki scowled. "Ugh, not her."

The last time Kapeka had come to Avalor to talk trade, she and Shuriki had almost killed each other due to an argument over negotiations. Shuriki refused to say why she detested the other sorceress so much, but she and Elizaveta were always vying for dominance any time they had to interact with one another.

Shuriki wanted nothing to do with it. "Leave me here to die."

Esteban huffed. "It's customary in Avalor for the ruling monarch to greet visiting dignitaries."

Shuriki buried her head under a pillow. "I really don't care about proper decorum."

Esteban folded his arms and began to tap his foot impatiently as he tried to figure out a way to rouse her. Then it hit him like a runaway carriage. "Well, if you aren't feeling up to it..."

"-Oh, thank Maru-"

"I'm sure Doña Paloma wouldn't mind helping with the dame."

"That money hungry hussy?!" Shuriki grabbed his cravat and yanked him towards her. "Estéban, I told you to stay away from her!"

"Mamá...? Papá...?"

Esteban and Shuriki both turned to see their seven year old twins, Aléjandro and Llorona, hovering in the doorway.

"Oh, my little darlings..." Shuriki cooed.

She released Esteban and held out her arms to the pajama clad children. "Come here..."

Esteban knelt to steal a hug from the little ones before helping them up onto the bed.

"Why are you fighting? Did Papá do something wrong?" Alé asked.

"We weren't fighting, were we, Estéban?"

Esteban shook his head. He couldn't help smiling when their children were around. "No, just having a discussion, that's all."

"About what?" Alé asked.

"Oh, nothing important," Shuriki answered, giving Esteban a warning glare to drop the subject. She smiled softly at the twins. "What are you two doing out of bed so early, hmm?"

"I don't feel good," Aléjandro replied.

Shuriki frowned. "You don't? What's wrong?"

"My nose is stuffy and I keep coughing. It makes my throat hurt, Mamá."

"My poor, sweet boy..." Shuriki pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're running a fever. Estéban, cancel everything that's on my agenda for today. If Elizaveta throws a fit about rescheduling, tell her to go eat sand. And have breakfast brought up. The children need to eat, especially Alé or his illness will worsen."

Shuriki was adamant about not using vulgar language in front of the children. She would've been spewing obscenities at Elizaveta by now if not for them. "Yes, querida."

"Can we have ice cream for breakfast?" Aléjandro asked, giving her the cutest look he could muster.

Shuriki quirked an eyebrow feigning displeasure, but her facade cracked, and she gave him a smile. "Oh, alright. The cold treat will help with your sore throat, but you'll have to finish the real food first. Only then can you have the ice cream."

Aléjandro nodded and smiled. "Si, Mamá. Gracias!"

Shuriki chuckled. "You're very welcome."

What she didn't tell the child was that she'd be lacing his treat with a medicinal potion to combat his illness. Shuriki had learned early on that the best way to convince a child to take medication was to hide it in their favorite desserts and not tell them it was in there elsewise they wouldn't eat it and she'd have to force it down their throat which was something she didn't enjoy doing.

Esteban knew it was probably a bad idea to make Elizaveta wait, especially given they intended to reschedule, but his son was sick, and he felt like it had been ages since he'd enjoyed a warm meal with his lover and their children.

Esteban even made breakfast. He cooked them guava-cheese empanadas and pão de queijo with atole and avena because they'd do less damage to Alé's sore throat when he ate them. He prayed the fruit he'd put in the oatmeal would strengthen the boy's immune system and speed up his recovery. He also prepared some green tea with honey and lemon in the hopes that it would keep Shuriki safe from the illness while she was caring for their son.

Shuriki was waiting for him when he brought in the food. She'd retrieved four year old Esperanza from her crib so she too could enjoy eating with her parents and siblings.

Esteban blocked young Aléjandro's view of the ice cream bowls so that Shuriki could stir a vial of healing potion into the already half melted treat then feign resignation as she handed the child the bowl.

Aléjandro ate every bit without questioning his mother's motives. If he'd asked, Shuriki would've just fibbed and claimed she'd let him have the sweets first due to him giving her the puppy dog eyes. They couldn't risk him getting too full off the empanadas or the potion would upset his stomach.

The boy was half way through his second empanada when he began yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "Mamá...I'm tired..."

Shuriki bit her lip to suppress a triumphant smirk as she pulled him close and stroked his hair. "I know, child. Close your eyes. I'm here. No harm will come to you."

Alé tucked himself up against her side and buried his face in her shoulder. At first, she thought he'd fallen asleep, but then the boy lifted his head. "I can't sleep, Mamá. Sing for me, por favor?"

Shuriki groaned. She wasn't a fan of music or dancing due to having a problem with sensitivity to noise. She'd gone so far as to ban both from Avalor, but had allowed Esteban to keep a guitar. Shuriki had also let him teach the children how to dance. She'd even sung a lullaby or two back when they were infants in the hopes they'd fall asleep. She'd been in desperate need of rest herself, of course, elsewise Shuriki would've taken a dagger to the throat rather than be heard singing or seen dancing around even if it was for her children who were the only people she loved more than Esteban or herself.

"Why would you want that?" she asked. "My voice sounds terrible when I sing."

"But I like when you sing, Mamá."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"It helps me sleep and makes me feel better." He gave her another one of his puppy dog pouts. "Por favor, Mamá?"

Shuriki sighed. "Fine..."

The sorceress closed her eyes trying to gather her thoughts. The Northern islanders didn't have too many lullabies as music, dancing and art were all considered nonsensical frivolities. There was a song she did remember from back when she was a child. Her mother had sung it to her on the rare occasions when she was ill.

Now is the time for the wolves and thrushes, to sing to the moon from the forests and rushes.

Sleep, my love. Sleep my only dear, in the dark.

Fragile and magical shadows will suddenly start to appear, lovely and lyrical, a frightening miracle, within your ear.

Carefully raising their voices, in a chorus loud and gracefully clear,

Over and under, the multi-toned, wonder of dreams endear.

Why are they singing, calling, and braying all night long?

What are they trying so hard to convey with their haunting song?

Sometimes when somebody loves you, they say and do things you don't understand.

And there in the harsh truth lies the proof of a parent's love.

Aléjandro fell asleep midway through the song. Esteban sat and listened to Shuriki sing while she stroked their eldest child's hair.

He tended to forget just how hard her childhood had been. The Northern Islands was a dark, cold place with authoritarian laws and an intolerance for failure of any sort. It was a miracle that she'd survived what with the horrid weather and the unrealistic expectations heaped onto her by her parents, peers, and the royal family she'd once served.

Shuriki laid Alé down beside her and curled herself around him to cuddle and protect the child while he slept.

"Put Esperanza back in her crib, and make sure Llorona gets back to the nursery on your way out, would you, Estéban?"

Esteban nodded. "Si, mi amada."

"But I want to stay with you," Llorona pouted, "I don't want to go back to the nursery. There is no one there for me to play with."

"Nonsense. You've more than enough toys to play with," Shuriki said, "And the last thing I need is for you to catch whatever it is your brother has. Now run along..." Shuriki was only half listening or she would've realized it was the lack of playmates not the quantity or quality of toys upsetting her eldest daughter.

"But, Mamá-"

"I said no," Shuriki snapped.

Shuriki hadn't meant to be so harsh towards the girl, but the damage was done. Llorona recoiled at the sharpness in her tone before retreating over to Esteban who was putting Esperanza down for her midmorning nap. Shuriki wanted to tell Llorona to come back, that she was sorry for having lost her temper, but the girl had bypassed a preoccupied Esteban and already left the room before she had the chance.

Shuriki sighed. "Estéban, would you-"

"I'll check on her on my way back to my office," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You just focus on Esper and Alé right now and leave everything else to me."

"Thank you."

"You're muy welcome, mi corazón."

"I didn't mean to shout at her," Shuriki admitted. "I just...it's so frustrating at times..."

"I understand what you mean," he assured her. "Llorona is going to be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Esteban nodded. "She's always been a resilient child. Give her an hour or two and she'll have forgotten all about it."

#eoa #disney #elenaofavalor #shuriki #elena of avalor #chancellor esteban #esteban flores #fanfiction #EoA #original character

[emospritelet]

For Rumbelle Pandemic/Quarantine prompts: “Please - he’s burning up!” But can I prompt "she's" instead of "he's"? I'm a sucker for protective/woobie Gold/Weaver.

Prompt list is here

Okay, you asked for it. Since you mentioned Weaver, and you want it to be ‘she’s’ burning up’, I’m going to make TLU Weaver suffer…

[AO3]

Weaver barged through the double doors of the hospital corridor, hearing them swing shut behind him. He was almost running, his daughter cradled in his arms, brown curls damp from the water he had been using to try to bring down her fever. Tilly clutched at his shirt, moaning fretfully as she was jostled by him having to swerve around an old couple shuffling by, masks hiding their faces.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, trying to keep the fear from his voice. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tilly coughed, and he turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing the lack of masks available. The mayor had taken a lead in dealing with the outbreak, and was dealing with things as best she could by rationing supplies and locking down much of the working population, but every state was under-resourced, supplies were low, and the federal government seemed to have gone into hiding.

Through another set of double doors, and he had reached the reception desk, crowds of people standing around talking in raised voices, the medical staff trying to keep order. Weaver hung back a little, not wanting to get too near the others, but quickly slipped into the space left by a young woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair, a respirator over his mouth and nose.

“If it’s not the virus and it’s not life-threatening, you’ll have to go home,” said the nurse behind the desk, without preamble.

She looked weary, brown hair tied up and starting to come loose, her face drawn. Weaver felt a stab of sympathy for her.

“It’s my daughter,” he said. “She has it. I - I was looking after her at home, but she’s getting worse by the hour.”

The nurse sighed, reaching for a clipboard. Her name badge read Gale.

“Fill this out,” she said, not unkindly. “Waiting time’s four hours, unless a bed comes up in the children’s ward before then.”

“Four hours?” he said desperately. “Please! She’s burning up!”

Nurse Gale gestured helplessly around at the chaos in the reception area, and Weaver sighed, shifting Tilly into the crook of one arm and reaching for the clipboard.

“Right.”

He began scribbling her details, almost misspelling their address in his tiredness. The noise in the waiting area was a raucous clamour in his head, making it hard to concentrate. When did the symptoms start? Two days ago? Three? When did I last sleep more than an hour?

“Daddy, I feel bad.”

Tilly’s voice was hoarse from coughing, weak and fragile, and Weaver instinctively hugged her closer, kissing her forehead. Nurse Gale’s face softened a little, somehow making her look even wearier.

“How old is she?” she asked.

“Four and a half.”

“You have other kids?”

He hesitated.

“Not yet.”

Nurse Gale glanced around, gesturing to a tall, dark-haired man in blue scrubs, who had just entered the room and was making for the desk.

“Did that Mills kid go home yet?” she asked.

“Five minutes ago, give or take,” he said. “There’s a bed on the kids’ ward. Is this my new patient?” 

Nurse Gale snatched the clipboard from Weaver, glancing at it briefly before shoving it at the doctor.

“Matilda Weaver, four and a half, presented with symptoms three days ago, rapid progression and deterioration.” She glanced at Weaver. “Go with Dr Milliner.”

Weaver nodded his thanks, following the doctor from the room and down another corridor. The world had taken on a dreamlike quality, everything around the edges of his vision blurred and indistinct, his focus on Tilly in his arms, and the hurrying figure of Dr Milliner ahead. By the time he had gotten Tilly to the ward and she was taken from him, he felt as though he was outside his own body, floating above and looking down at the helpless man whose daughter was reaching for him from the arms of strangers, crying. A curtain was swiftly pulled around the bed. 

“You can see her in two hours,” said Dr Milliner. “Make sure you wash your hands thoroughly. Soap and water in the restrooms.”

He waited only for Weaver’s dazed nod before turning his back, and the doors swung shut, cutting off the view.

Weaver stumbled down the corridor, finding the nearest restroom to wash his hands, the heat of the water and the rhythmic motion of it somehow soothing. There was a pile of paper towels there, and he dried off, glancing at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark and heavy, black shadows beneath, his face drawn and his cheeks and chin coated in three-day stubble. He shook his head, reaching for the door. If he wasn’t allowed back for two hours, perhaps he could get some sleep. It was hard to care for a sick child alone.

He glanced up at the signs in the corridor, directions to different wards. Finding the one he sought, he trudged down the corridor, ignoring those that passed him. He recognised the corridor that he stepped into, with its dark blue tiles scattered seemingly at random amongst pale grey. The isolation ward. Counting the doors in his head, he stopped outside number four and glanced through the square of glass to the room beyond.

Lacey’s eyes were closed, dark curls spread out on the pillow around her, limp and dull after days in the hospital. She had fallen ill two weeks ago, and had deteriorated so rapidly that Weaver had been desperately afraid that he would lose her. She was now off the ventilator, and was breathing normally, but Weaver had been unable to relax once Tilly had also fallen ill. His body was tight with a low key, but ever-present terror at the thought of one of those he loved the most slipping away. Lacey’s belly curved upwards, covered by the pale green hospital blanket, their second child due in less than a month. He wondered what kind of world it would be born into.

Weaver pushed open the door, slipping into the room and going to sit by the bed. Chances were he would be asked to leave if a doctor came in, but perhaps he would be able to pass at least a little of the two hours he would have to wait to see Tilly. Sitting down was a relief, his body crying out for rest, and he hesitated a little before reaching out to take Lacey’s hand. Her fingers were cool. He remembered when they had been scalding hot, her whole body burning up with a raging fever. Just as Tilly’s was now.

Lacey inhaled, eyes fluttering, and he felt himself smile as she turned her head a little, recognition showing in her eyes. Her cheeks were a little sunken, her weight having dropped. Worry flared to life in him again, but he kept the smile frozen in place.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said gently.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Oh.” She looked puzzled, as though she was trying to remember the days she had missed as she fought the virus. “Is it visiting time?”

“Not yet. I probably shouldn’t be here.”

Lacey smiled a little, squeezing his hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Exhausted,” she said. “Hard to stay awake. But getting better, I think. How’s Tilly?”

He hesitated, debating whether to tell her their daughter was seriously ill. His lower lip wobbled, his eyes stinging with tears, and he squeezed her hand. A white lie, that’s all. A white lie to ease her mind.

“She’s fine,” he lied. “She’s gonna be just fine, and so are you. We’ll take you home soon, and we’ll be together. All of us.”

“Yeah.” Lacey closed her eyes again, hand slipping from his. “Together.”

#sprite's pandemic promptathon #crystalwhitepeacock #woven lace fic #woven lace #angst #hospitals #child illness #fic: white lies #my fic #i wasn't planning on these prompts getting all angsty but here we are #i swear the next one won't be

[reddogf13]

Raw nerves ch 2

Pennywise x Beverly

summery:   7 years after pennywise tricked those kids into thinking they won, he unintentionally explodes a gas pipe. he wakes days later to discover hes being treated by Beverly. too weak to even walk he is forced to live under her roof. questioning her reasons for keeping him and why none of the other losers have come to end him. without knowing, the two join a path to heal each other.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: Raw nerves ch 1

next chap: Raw nerves ch 3

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~ch:2 Hunger~

Messing with the door knob he growled when it refused to open. “she locked me in?!” he snarled. Crushing the week metal knob in his hand before yanking it back to free the entire door from its hinges. Tossing it over the stair railing he passed by. At the bottom of the stairs he suffered a lack of energy again. Leaning on the end stair railing to wheeze in a breath of air.

“dammit.” growling in continuing on. A wave of exhaustion hitting him like a brick wall past the front door. Frustrated deadlights needing another visit to the limbo on a collapsing body. Waking by nightfall as Beverly was pulling up. “fucking stupid.” he growled over his position of barely conscious outside her front door. Knowing how stupid he must have looked right now. Unable to do anything as Beverly stepped out from her car to look down at him. Stepping by to pass the front door to sigh over the flung door. A reaction that had a smile glance his face. Frowning as she stepped back over to him to stand by his side. Reaching down to try moving him if it weren't for him lunging at her again.

A loud clack sounding by his teeth making contact with each other at missing her. Growling in warning for her to not touch him. She threw a hand up in defeat to look between him and the bedroom he used to be in. rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. Appearing to get an idea that had her rushing back into the car. Leaving him where he was to rush off down the road in the night. In trying to get up he gave up after a couple failed attempts. Grumbling curse words repeatedly to then give in to resting again.

Hearing clearly when Beverly returned to park in the driveway. Taking a little longer to exit her car before heading over to him. Inside he was laughing at knowing she wanted to get him back inside, but what could she do? Getting close meant being in biting distance. Not bothering to open an eye unless she dared to touch him again. His decision helped Beverly all the more in readying her equipment. A small jingling noise was heard and then something wrapped around his face. When he tried to sit up, he felt her pushing back long enough to a click sounding behind his head.

Its was a fucking muzzle being locked shut around his jaws. He thrashed around in clawing at the tough leather with no success. Lack of energy leaving his grip useless on the heavy duty padlock snapped firmly in place. He raked his face across the rocks and gravel near by to try beating the leather down. Collapsing down in a heap of exhaustion wheezing through the premium muzzle.

Cursing her in thought. “fucking bitch. … must have paid a fortune.” still giving credit where credit was due on finding such an extremely durable muzzle. Thinking back on how even when her arm was bit she didn't scream like many victims. She grit her teeth and got it patched up the best she could.

He glared up at her in a now what? expression that had her looking around to figure that out. The biggest threat, a bite, taken care of although his claws were still free to hook in. she went inside briefly to come out with a large blanket in hand. Setting it down beside him to then cautiously pull him onto it. Receiving resistance by him clawing into the ground to anchor himself in place. Fighting with her the entire way she dragged him along back to his room. Claw marks left in the front door way. The walls and railing ruined by long deep marks. Same as the walls leading up to his room where she managed to pull him up onto the bed covered in fresh sheets. Too tired to do anything else by this point. She treated all of his reopened wounds without alcohol after learning from his past aggression.

Her shredded arm catching his eye at her veins blackening. The small detail spreading just past the large gauze bandage covering half her lower arm. It was serious after only a day since the damage was done. All this work to avoid him had weakened her body further to spread the infection. The scent of disease creeping over the gentle lavender one she had normally. Death coming on as a dry hay mixed with a rotten acidic fruit the worse the body broke down.

She finished applying new bandages to move on to start cleaning up. Packing everything else away to leave him alone again for the night. He thought of escaping again if it meant she had to stress out on getting him to the room all over. Taking out his anger on the closest thing to him, the bed. Clawing into the tall wood posts down into small nubed corners. His rage sated for the moment he decided not to bother with another escape. Due to how fast she was turning sick from the bite. He could wait her out at this point and relax to build energy. Resting down into the bed in waiting for the next morning. Excitement on how sick Beverly would be when he saw her next.

The new morning announced to both of them by Beverly's alarm clock. Taking twice as long to leave her room freshly dressed to head over to his room. A fever radiating warmth off her when standing close to him. Slow in getting ready to check that his wounds were closed after last night. Both of them getting through the morning without a fight.

“where'd you get this?” his voice wheezing about the muzzle. Beverly pausing her work debating on whether to answer honestly or not.

Her voice rough from illness.“pet shop.” she lied.

“... you walked into a sex shop. Didn't you?” the muzzle not made for any type of dog on earth. Watching her hurry her work with an embarrassed blush that he knew. Beverly not saying another word to go about her day off out of the house. Unable to lock him in this time since he ripped the door away. With her gone he rested the day away until the time she was to come back. Patiently waiting for a few hours when it turned too late for her.

“not back yet? Did the infection catch up to her already?” grin stretching across his face. Turning back to rest more peacefully at mind. Although disappointed she didn't die in the house where he could reach her body. “oh well.” tossing that aside to focus on more important things. Building enough energy to get out of this awful house she imprisoned him in. resting through the night that passed through the day into the next. Beverly still nowhere in sight he happily enjoyed the bedroom up to the second morning. The next thing to irritate him was the sun itself pulling into the room.

Liking its warmth, but not the light stinging his eyes while trying to rest. Since Beverly's leaving she also left the ceiling light on. Another irritant he could stand no longer. Sitting up enough to swipe the ceiling light to shatter into pieces. Moving to stand by the room window with a lean against the nearby wall. Tapping the wall with his finger tips to stretch out a silver threading. Criss crossing it to cover the room into a pitch blackness. Spreading it out to make the place more homey to him by a winding narrow path leading to the bed from the doorway. Coating every wall in the webbing to spread slightly out into the hall where he finished. Returning to bed for further rest in the dark cozy den he made for himself. Another few days of peace being broken by the sound of a car pulling up.

“no.” his thoughts growled. Hearing the front door open for soft footsteps to enter. “she lived?!” he hissed. Eyes glaring toward the entrance to his constructed den. Her steps coming up the stairs to stop at the top. Her pace half the speed in approaching down the hall. Part of him relieved she skipped visiting him to head into her bedroom for the night. “how could that have not killed her?!” he glared up at the ceiling. Her lavender scent returning over the sickened dry hay smell with a newly added medical one. That recognizable scent from hospitals and doctors offices where she must've been these past few days. This muzzle on his face wouldn't allow him another try of infectious biting. Too weak to snap it off currently he was thrown back to square one. Resting his way in preparation for a fight in the morning.

When he heard her get up in the morning he tensed. Adjusting himself to lay in wait at the tunnel facing toward the foot of the bed. The space was much more of a threat to Beverly since she was last here. Not nearly enough space to dodge back anymore if he lunged. A humans poor night vision requiring a flashlight to navigate the minor maze with comfort. Excited by her steps hesitantly walking down to stop at the webbed door way. Pennywise clawed into the bed sheets to steady himself upon her entering the room. Traversing along the path he made right to the core of where he stayed. Observing her glance around the corner to carefully check the new den.

A minor bit of light bleeding through the covered window to highlight the webbed walls in a darkened yellow glow of the rising sun. Still not enough to reveal himself from his lowered pouncing position. He lunged forward to sink his claws into her side. Feeling the cloth of her clothes tug back to escape his grasp. The grin on his face at success dropping to the sound of shredding fabric. He didn't hook deep enough through the thick sweater she was wearing. Losing his only grasp on her to be left with fist fulls of fabric. He couldn't let her get away a second time or shed be harder to attack the next.

Tossing the sweater pieces to the side for another clawed lunge at her. Shredding through his own threading walls as he scrambled to catch her as she ran out. Beverly making it to the safety of the lightened hall he stopped halfway in his narrow tunnels. Unable to corner her out in the open house he didn't bother following. roaring out toward the exit with a punch to the floor in releasing his boiling frustration. Wheezing afterwards back to the bed for another long rest. Never feeling like he could get ahead on his energy.

“if only this stupid muzzle!!” thoughts wanting to rage over something. Yet, the back of his mind knew it wasn't only the muzzle holding him back. Looking down to the freshly bloodied sheets from his wounds reopening. At this rate they would never heal and now Beverly surely wouldn't come back in to treat them. Wanting to fight, but losing the will as the energy was sucked from him being so aggressive all day long. Having to accept that for a time he'd have to deal with her through whatever plans she had for him. Resting the day away after she left in the car. On her return home, she went straight to bed.

The next morning he heard her get up and expected her to skip his check up. Listening to her carefully step closer down the darkened hall. Stepping into his room to stupidly approach him after yesterday. Catching a glance at her peeking around the corner toward him. Eyes locking on each other in a long returning stare.

“coming in?” he broke the silence first. Wanting to get it over with or scare her off.

“not going to fight?”

he wheezed. “too tired”

sighing tiredly under her breath “me too.” cautiously stepping in to open the first aid kit. Nursing the wounds to close up the rest of the way. Drying the flowing blood off his white smooth skin using a pack of tissues. Changing the soaked bandages to be replaced by more heavy duty gauze covered by medical tape. Aiming to make her daily treatments less needed after they caused them both so much stress. Her clean up faster this time while keeping an eye on him for any movement. The tired clown letting her leave peacefully this time.

Waiting for her to leave the house as usual so that he could rest. A few hours later she still hadn't left meaning she was staying home today. Her steps wandering the house doing chores throughout the day. Coming up to his room after lunch to check on him. He didn't look or ask what she came for to continue his rest. Surprised to sense her stepping further into the den to sit on the couch she treated him from.

“sitting there to stare at me like a display?” twisting toward the side of being hostel if she kept it up. Body tensing when her palm softly pressed against him. Holding it there to gauge his reaction toward waking or not. Changing it to a soothing gentle pet along his back. Not liking how she was touching him, yet the petting was nice against his sore muscles. The petting was short lived when she switched to taking up a blanket to cover his upper half. His upper shirt to ruffled collar still left off after the first treatment. Heading back to work more around the house for the rest of the day.

The smell of her cooking dinner rising up to seep into his room. His mouth drooling over the cooking hamburger down stairs. Finding relief when she soaked it in a strong tomato sauce covering the meat. It had been so long since he'd eaten. How was she to keep that problem under control?

“she better not come up to spoon feed me meat loaf.” grumbling to himself. Human foods he could eat, but it had no nutritional value for his body. The deadlights needed a more lively essence to slowly devour. The only thing having that was human flesh when it was newly killed. Preserving such a meal was difficult years ago, in his condition it was impossible now. What he caught needed to be eaten while it was still warm on the bones. Was this the losers big plan? They threatened to starve him and this was their way of doing it? Keeping him healthy and muzzled long enough for his body to finally give out.

“no wonder they're not bothering to visit. Waiting for me to be on my deathbed before coming over to laugh. Leaving her to do all the work since she isn't afraid.”

her dinner finished she returned back to her room. The dark house quiet in the night while he stayed up to think. He couldn't lay here to slowly starve to death he needed to take some sort of action. This muzzle was a death sentence to keep on any longer. He had enough energy to walk down the hall to her room. Sneak in to search for the key to the muzzle lock then pounce on her sleeping form. One meal was all he needed to get anywhere it was such a so close yet so far case. Closed eyes to rest opening at the presence of others approaching the house. A group of 4 males he assumed were some of Beverly's friends come to visit.

The fear seeping off them as they kept their steps abnormally soft notifying him they weren't. The splintering of the front door slowly forced open to loudly pop free. One of them lowly cursing the sudden noise as they flooded in to spread around the first floor. Shuffling through things to stop at hearing Beverly's door open. She wasn't fully unaware of what was going on. Nerves on edge over something that she guessed was him at first coming into his room to check that he was there. When she peeked around his tunnel corner he pretended to be resting to avoid being asked questions. Unwilling to inform her of the dangers waiting down stairs. Hunger stabbing his stomach off her sudden fear of knowing it wasn't him disturbing the night. Aside from hunger her Standing in his room in waiting for something annoying him.

Glad to sense her leaving his room to stand out in the hallway instead. guardedly heading down the stairs in investigating the situation. Oblivious to the males shifting around the house to close in on her. The fear sprouting between 5 humans was driving Pennywise mad. Drool oozing out the sides of his muzzle to soak the bed spot under his chin. Sitting up to plan how he could use this situation to his advantage. 5 humans wracked with fear in this house and 4 of them would surely come to him eventually. Easy meals that he couldn't afford to have escape his hunger. However there was still the issue of the key to his muzzle and only she could tell him where to search for it. He didn't have the spare energy to search every nook and cranny for a puny key. Leaving him in a hard spot that relied entirely on Beverly answering his question. Killing her would need him to lose energy in searching and then trying to hunt anything would be fruitless. Reluctantly he had to save Beverly from the intruders in order to save himself. Conserving the energy to proceed his plans next few steps.

Those males had grabbed Beverly and sat her down in the living room. One standing by to guard while the others scavenged around the house. Shouting now and again to ask where any valuables were without receiving any good enough answers. Thudding footsteps coming up the stairs stopped by Beverly's protests.

She warned the intruder. “don't go up there!”

being told to “shut up” as the male continued to the top of the stairs. Steps stumbling to a stop when moving toward the pitch black doorway covered in large bits of webbing. “what the fuck?” the male whispered to himself.

The one guarding Beverly had their attention turned to the one upstairs. “what is it?” asking the one above.

“some spider infestation in a room up here. Shit, the whole door way is covered in webs!”

Beverly butting in. “yes! Very deadly spiders in there! That's why I said not to go up there!”

the two idiots ignoring her warnings. “walk in and check the room then walk out.” the one below told the higher.

“man, if I get bit im-ma be pissed.” the other complained. Steps gaining a pace up to the doorway. Heading through the maze of threading as they let out low curses the entire time.

“what you see?” the one downstairs called up.

The male on the 2nd floor returning out of the room. “nuthin. An empty bed and drawers full of medical junk and sheets.”

Beverly swallowing nervously at hearing the bed was empty. Pennywise had moved somewhere in the house for an unknown purpose.

A scream of pain coming from the back of the house having them all jump. The guard ordering the other to go check it out. Leaving Bev alone with only one intruder who was on edge enough for an easy distraction to be made. A crashing of glass bringing the twos attention toward the kitchen. Glancing to Bev to gesture for her to get up and head toward the kitchen. Followed by him gun in hand pointed toward her back. Looking over the shining shards of what was once a clear glass scattered across the floor tiles. It took only a moment of the guard not facing Beverly for Pennywise to snatch her away. His hand reaching out of a small pantry door to grab her throat.

Silencing her from letting out a sound by his crushing grip yanking her in. loosening only after closing the small wood door to hide the two of them. Grip loosening enough for her to breath again for the two of them to talk.

Hissing out in whisper he asked what he wanted. “where's the key?”

feeling Beverly nervously swallow under his grip. Refusing to answer in preventing his starving jaws being unleashed. The pantry was dark, but she could still see the glistening drool hanging from his jaws. The dripping drool tapping on the tile at her feet when they fell under their own weight. Wincing in pain by his claws sinking into her throat demanding an answer.

Answering out a “no.” needing to shut her eyes under the claws digging deeper. Wheezing out in a useless struggle against the grip he couldn't lose. The claws receding for her to let out the answer he wanted. “in the bedroom under a corner of the carpet.” his grip letting her go.

warning her “stay here.” Glowing eyes disappearing last as his form merged into the darkness. Appearing into her bedroom where he found the key in less than a minute. Taking half that time to release the muzzle off of him. Stomping down to crush the lock into the floorboards. The muzzle taking the next turn in getting all the parts twisted beyond usability. Catching the attention of all the intruders searching for the missing Beverly.

The guard now sticking by the one who screamed. The other males leg painfully snapped in two without even knowing what really happened. Crying and sobbing over the limb on the living room couch. Pennywise couldn't kill them too early, but he can certainly break them. Waiting for the others to come storming into the room. The first one barging in had their knee stomped in backwards. Crumpling to the ground in agony when the second was grabbed to be thrown down to the floor. A bite to the intruders spine snapping the crucial nerves to the body's system. Left paralyzed from the neck down, but not dead. Stuck looking in the direction of his friend, with the broken knee, being devoured alive.

The clown shredding through the meat with wide jaws of sharp teeth as a shark would. Chunks torn to be swallowed down in heavy gulps without a second of chewing. Bloody bones in a pile of destroyed fabric was all that was left after mere minutes of them entering the room. The paralyzed man begging to be rescued by the one guarding below. Silenced by a hand covering his mouth that muffled his screams through his turn of being eaten. Watching the clown snap the ribs to eat the organs it contained. Feeling not an ounce of pain since his paralysation, however mentally traumatized in the short moment before his lack of organs ended his life.

The two fresh meals acting as a breath of fresh air for Pennywise. Having some energy in his system to cure his exhausted wheezing. Walking without need of a wall or under threat of collapsing after 20 steps. Listening back in on what was going on down stairs after not paying attention for the past 2 minutes. Hearing that Beverly was caught by the guard now questioning her as to what was going on. Her unable to explain what IT was or what happened to the men upstairs.

Desperate to get them away from his hunger she pleaded with the last two. “we have to go!”

the guard refusing to leave. “no! You and whoever else is in this house is going to pay!”

Pennywise having newly regained energy had the chance to play some tricks. Sneaking down stairs by the shadows to spy on the three in the living room. Taking hold of a nearby vase to throw into the kitchen next to them for their eyes to be taken off the injured male. laying on the couch he was yanked away by claws to the throat. A gasp notifying the two too late in looking back to check on him. The couch empty covered in a sliding blood stain on the top of the head rests. Same as his last two meals he finished this one off in a minute. His hunger no longer a problem though that didn't mean he was going to allow that last intruder to escape. Energy needing to be stocked up as much as possible without knowing when his next meal could be.

The final strike wasn't stealthy as the others with no one left to alarm. Avoiding tipping Beverly off so she wouldn't in turn warn them of their approaching demise. The two of them shouting at each other in an argument. Beverly receiving a slap to the face to shut her up that knocked her down. She had no chance to warn the other when the clown stalked up behind him. Slamming him into the ground to be torn into for Pennywise's last meal of the night. Enjoying the fear soaked meat he forgot the man's gun in hand. A blast shocking his side full of pain stopping his eating to rip the man's arm from the socket. Gritting his teeth in looking at the new wound leaking black blood.

Cursing over the new injury that would steal the energy he regained. Turning back to finish the meal he would need for healing. A movement out of the corner of his eye locking his sights onto Beverly sneaking away.

Roaring at her “DON'T YOU MOVE!” freezing her in place. Quickly going through the last of his meal to deal with her next. To eat her or not he debated again within his mind. Deciding that he still needed her for healing even more after the bullet wound made. Standing up from the bloody remains filled his vision in dark spots. Fighting the oncoming collapse as he stumbled his steps to stay standing. The darkness leaving for him to stay steady on his feet. Beverly standing much closer holding her arms half ready to catch him if he fell. Shrinking back when his focus locked clearly onto her.

Her gaze avoiding his to look back after he turned toward the stairs. “we should get you clean.” quietly mentioning to him.

Looking down he saw himself coated in blood along with meat bits. Cleaning himself along with the house was easy … using energy … to save some of it he agreed. “fine, upstairs.” he ordered. Still keeping the plan to clean the remains of the house. Spare Beverly the need to and risk getting ill off the rotting messes. Laughing at himself protecting Beverly from anything as he growled at her for about to turn on the bathroom light. “leave it off.”

skipping the light she set up a warm bath for him to soak under. The once clear water turned a tinted black. Darkening the longer he soaked from his bullet wound unable to seal shut. Beverly looking down at it when she mentioned it. “i can pull the bullet out.” offering softly. A confirming nod having her momentarily leave to fetch the kit. A long pair of tweezers used to, as gently as possible, slide the intact bullet from his side. Moving on to remove all his bandages that were ruined this past 15 minutes. Taking hold of a loofah to scrub away the dried blood sticking to his skin. Doing the bare minimum to get him clean without agitating him too much.

Leaving the tub he dried off far quicker then Beverly expected. Walking him back to the webbed bedroom out of concern rather than needing to. His bullet wound leaking a trail of blood alongside the rest of his seeping wounds left uncovered. Back in bed she brought up his need for further treatment hesitantly due to one thing. “I need to clean these with alcohol.” flinching back from the snarl of threatening teeth at the mention of the substance.

Snapping at her “i don't need it! I can't get infections! Unlike you!” bearing teeth as he threw a glance at her professionally treated arm. Dropping the subject she decided to also keep the treatment to the bare minimum. using bandages made of heavy gauze stuck on by medical tape. Sitting back on the couch chair for a break after this long night. Rubbing her face to break away some fatigue to start putting things away. Staying on the couch without a word passing between them on what happened. Pennywise resting eventually while Beverly stayed awake on the chair.

Agitated thoughts filling his head. “I am not so helpless to need watching. Even after being shot.” hating that Beverly was still here. Thinking of another reason why she was sticking around. “after those intruders coming in she can't sleep.” the closest thing to safety was him if someone else encroached the house. He'd tolerate her presence for tonight if it meant she was less likely to turn ill from stress.

#It (2017) #pennywise x beverly marsh #pennywise #beverly marsh #Raw nerves ch 2

[leelee10898]

Half on a baby: Leo & Alicia- part 1

This is from the Cordonians gone wild AU, a collaborative effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @cocomaxley @riseandshinelittleblossom and myself. Read our other crazy adventures HERE

Leo walked into his and Alicia's quarters after a long conference call. He had been contacted about joining a European motocross tour that started in a couple of weeks. Leo had been itching to get back out there, Alicia knew it and encouraged him to take the call and they would figure out a plan. “Hey babe.” he leaned down kissing her cheek and down on the couch next to her. “So, how was it?” she turned to face her husband. “Not bad. Tour is a short one 3 weeks, 9 races and and a championship.” Alicia sensed the hesitation in his voice. “Ok, what's wrong?” He sat up running his hand over his face. “I don't think I can be away from you that long.” she got up sitting sideways on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Leo, this is what you love, you cant let being away from me hold you back from your dreams.” “I enjoy it yes, but you are what I love.” he paused a moment. “come with me.”

“you want me to come with you? Is that allowed?” “You're my wife, of course its allowed. Besides, you'll give me more motivation to win.” he grinned. “ok, I'll go.” Leo's lips captured hers immediately before she pulled away jumping up. “Leo come on, we need to get ready. We have dinner with Stef and Max tonight.” “that's tonight love?” he gripped her hips pulling her closer. “Stef needs my help with dinner. The words can't feed the huntin dogs came out.” leo gave her a puzzled look and sighed “ok, let's get ready.. but later on.” he stood pulling her fleshed against him. “I know.”

They arrived at Maxwell and Stephanie's, Maxwell opened the door holding Evie “Hey guys come in. Alicia, Stefs in the kitchen, um shes been cursing alot.” Alicia nodded and headed towards the kitchen. “Hey cutie.” Leo cooed. “Awe thanks Leo, I'm glad to see you too.” Maxwell grinned, prompting an eye roll from Leo. “So since the girls are cooking, we gotta entertain Evie.” “ok sounds good to me.” Leo shrugged as they walked into the living room.

Alicia and stephanie made way into the kitchen. “Did you put the skillet in the oven for 10 minutes?” Stephanie nodded grabbing her oven mitts plucking the cast iron skillet from the hot oven. Alicia drizzled a generous amount of olive oil into the hit pan and gave it a swirl, coating the pan. “ok stef, season the meat with the salt, pepper and garlic.” she instructed. They placed the pork loin in the skillet and placed it in the oven. “Thanks again for coming over and helping, I love pork tenderloin but I can't cook for nothing.” Stephanie grinned pouring two glasses of wine. “No problem, it's not that hard. Trick is not to over cook it. Were going to flip it about 10 to 15 minutes in. Once the Internal temperature reaches 165, we should be set.”

Alicia took a swig from her wine. The two settled into an easy conversation, Alicia's eyes kept darting out to the living room, watching Leo coo and fawn all over evie made her heart soar. "So Stef, when did you know you were ready to start trying for evie?" stephanie snorted. "Trying? We didn't exactly try...don't get me wrong, by any means. She is my whole world, but definitely an oopsie baby." "But you wanted kids right? Did you and Maxwell ever talk about it?" Alicia took a sip of her wine. "We did. We knew we wanted to have a couple someday. And we got really lucky with Ev. She's the best little baby. If she not asleep she's happy. Unless she's hungry, which is an easy enough fix."

The timer went off, Alicia instructed Stephanie flip the meat, while the two continue their conversation. "How was being pregnant? Was it really weird?"

"absolutely. But it was also beautiful. The idea that I was carrying around this little piece of the love that Max and I share and one day she was gonna be walkin and talkin..it was really special. What is with all the questions, Alicia? You got a pork loin in *your* oven?!" Alicia choked on the sip of wine she just drank "What?! No. No loins in this oven.. I still have my IUD in." "For now.” Stephanie smirked. “I kinda figured you two'd be the next set of squad parents. What with all the goo-goo eyes Leo has for Evie. I swear the man thinks she hung the moon and he isn't even her daddy." She chuckled.

"He's making my ovaries explode right now. I have an appointment next week and I'm debating having my IUD removed." Alicia gazed at her husband holding evie. "Have you talked to him about that?" "Ahh, well... not really. We haven't actually talked about having kids. Well, not unless you count the time Anitah and I played a joke on Leo and Liam, and said we were pregnant with triplets... he fainted."

"He's ready girl. Look at him! And he can change a diaper better than Maxwell. Remind me to have Leo give him a few pointers." "Yeah, maybe you're right. I guess we should have the talk soon huh?"

Leo sat on the on the couch filling Maxwell in on his upcoming motocross tour. "Hey man, my arms getting tired. You maybe wanna hold her?" Maxwell arched his brow at Leo. "Yup, hand her over." Leo eagerly held his hands out. "She's like the worlds cutest bobble head right now, so make sure you support her here." Maxwell placed her in Leo's arms. "Maxwell I got this.” he faces Evie and coos “Don't I? Yes I do. Uncle Leo is going to spoil you rotten, huh my little goose." "How silly of me, Maverick. I should've known you would know how to handle a lady." Leo smirked "no matter how small, uncle Leo just has a way with the ladies.” he looked up “By the way Beaumont she's not allowed to date, like ever." "I support that decision, man I really do. Unless..." he Grins mischievously "a certain fair-haired former Playboy Prince decided to have a son. I think I'd be okay with the two of them together."

"Who me?" Leo shakes his head smirking "Could you imagine me as a dad? let me ask you Max, what's it like?” Maxwell's face lit up. "It's the most amazing feeling in the world! She's so cute and I get to feed her and snuggle her and wipe her little tushie. I haven't found one thing about it that I don't enjoy...except maybe Stef being crabby in the mornings. Ya know cuz she doesn't sleep through the night yet, but we're learning. Aren't we, Tulip? I could totally see you as a father. In fact I think you and Alicia should start trying right now! I mean if you hurry up, this second by the time your son is born Evie will only be one year older than him. They could totally make that relationship work."

Leo laughs "Your a mess Beaumont. You know, between you and me, I have been wanting to knock Alicia up. We haven't exactly had the kids conversation and I'm not sure how she would feel about it." "Haven't you noticed those girls watching us instead of the food? She's practically drooling over the thought of watching you rock her son to sleep. Trust me. All of the girls are ready for a baby. I hear them all goo-gooing and ga-gaing over Evie. They've all had baby fever since Stef got pregnant, whether they want to admit it or not." "You do seem to have the inside track on them. Thanks man, I think Alicia and I need to have a talk tonight."

“Alright guys time for dinner.” Alicia called out. Leo handed Evie back to max as he laid her in her swing. They sat down making their plates. Maxwell danced in his seat “mmmm this is really good Alicia. Stef you paid attention right? So you can make this again.” “Thanks Max but I can't take credit for this one, it was all Stef. I just guided her.” Alicia grinned. “ Hm...I'm really impressed, Rosebud." Stephanie rolls her eyes at her husband. "no I'm serious, baby. I can actually chew this meat." He let out a hardy laugh " joking aside, it's delicious, Red. Really." “Yes I agree, this is good Stephanie.” Leo Complimented. “ Aw come on you guys are making me blush.” Stephanie's cheeks flushed red.

They finished up dinner when Evie started to fuss. “oh it's time for her bottle and bed.” Stephanie looked st the clock. Maxwell jumped up “I got it Rose bud, Leo wanna help?” Leo nodded and the two scooped Evie up and headed towards the nursery. “Maxwell laid her down on the changing table “ Hey can you change her diaper while I grab her jammies?” leo agreed while max hunted down her pjs and grabbed her bottle. Once she was dressed he sat in the rocking chair, humming a soft lullaby as he fed her the bottle. Her tiny finger grasped his large one. Leo watched his friend put his child to sleep, he couldn't help but smile, he wanted that, he just hoped Alicia did too.

Maxwell lifted evie to his shoulder giving her a few Pat's on the back, she let out a healthy burp. He dabbed her little lips of the excess milk that dribbled out and walked her over to the crib. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “good night my sweet little tulip, daddy loves you. I'll see you in a few hours.” He flicked the light off as the two backed out of the room slowly. “so um Stef and I have been talking wanted to ask you. Would you be Evies Godfather?” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Leo's eyes went wide. “really? You want me to be her Godfather?” “yeah, your one of my best friends and you love evie or goose, like shes your own.. so what do you say?” “Maxwell, I would be honored to.” the two shared a quick hug and headed out to the living room.

“He said yes.” Maxwell squealed. Stephanie grinned “You knew he would Maxwell.” “seriously guys, thank you. I love that little girl.” Leo hugged stephanie and looked towards Alicia. “we should really be heading out, thanks for dinner guys. It was good.” Alicia hugged Stephanie and Maxwell and they headed out. Once they arrived back at the palace they made their way to their quarters.

Alicia changed into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, Leo changed into his sweat pants and tossed his shirt in the hamper and climbed Into bed, sitting back against the headboard. Alicia walked out of the bathroom rubbing lotion on her hands and arms. “I want to put a baby in you.” Leo blurted out, stopping Alicia dead in her tracks. “Well damn, I guess this is a good time to tell you I was thinking of having my IUD removed next week at my appointment.” she chuckled. She sat down in the bed, Leo grabbed her hands. “You want to start trying for a baby love?” “Yeah, I've been thinking about it alot lately, and seeing you with evie tonight..” she was cut off by his lips capturing hers. “I can't wait. You know the best part about getting pregnant?” he grinned “No, what?

“The practice.” he swiftly yanked her down to the bed, climbing on top of her. “I say we get some practice in right now.”

Two weeks later Leo and the guys were enjoying the day golfing. Drake sat in the golf cart, sipping from his flask. “How come you never play with us Drake?” Maxwell frowned. “swatting balls with sticks, eh. I'd rather just enjoy the fresh air.” Drake waves him off. Liam placed his ball, he picked his club and stepped up to the ball, getting read to swing. “I'm gonna knock Alicia up.” Leo announced. Liam mid swing let go of the club, it flew through the air smashing through someone's cart. Liam tried to compose himself as he turned to face his brother.

“You...you’re what?! Does Alicia know this?”

“of course she does. Do you really think I would get her pregnant without discussing it with her first?” Leo rolled his eyes. “Oh...um....that’s great, Leo!” liam rubbed the back of his neck. "You want to have a baby? The playboy prince, wants a baby. Do you know what a baby is, Leo?"

"yes Rashad I know what a baby is. I change a mean diaper, just ask Maxwell."

“Yes!! I knew it. I'm so excited.” Maxwell squealed as he broke out in a happy dance. "Well I'll be damned. That woman has got you whipped." Rashad "I'm not whipped, you're whipped." Leo defended, a smirk forming on his face. "Yeah we're all whipped. We should probably stop denying that now." Rashad sighed, the rest shaking their head in agreeance. “I hate to tell you guys, but you're next.. All of you.” Leo chuckled. Rashad snorted "we aren't even married yet, man. Slow your roll." Drake grinned walking up shaking Leo's hand “Congrats man.”

The girls sat at lunch enjoying a few mimosas before their food arrived. A lady walked in walking past the ladies, holding an adorable little boy. “aweee.” they said in unison. “Guess I better Enjoy these while I can.” Alicia took a big sip of her mimosa. Genevieve gave her a sideways look. “What the hell does that mean?” Anitah snapped her head in Alicia's Direction. "I umm had my IUD removed last week." She coolly sipped her mimosa. “Forrrr?!” Anitah squealed sure she knew where this was going. Genevieve's eyes flew wide open. "Oh my god! You guys are going to start trying?"

"Yes, we are."

“You are?!” Anitah squealed a little to loud (Shit, shit, shit) she silently said to herself, knowing her husband was now going to start pressing her. "I knew it! I knew you were itchin to put a bun in that oven!" Stephanie grinned, thinking back to their dinner. "That's great, Alicia! Did you, um, tell Leo that you're going to try?" Gen took a bite of a breadstick. "More like he bluntly told me he wanted to put a baby in me." "This was HIS idea? Hell has frozen over. What...How...Why?” Genevieve choked on the breadstick. "It had been on my mind, but yeah he pretty much decided for us."

"I'm just shocked. I thought Leo would be the last of the guys to want kids. I mean Liam and Drake are the two softest ones. I expected them to be first. Don't get me wrong, I think that's amazing. I'm really happy for you guys. I'm just not drinking the water anytime soon." She laughed. “I'm so happy for you guys.” pam reached out giving her hand a gentle squeeze before turning away slightly blushing.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that I won't be alone on the Preggo train long. Besides, it can take up to a year possibly to conceive after removing the IUD. So I have some time." "yeah doctors can say that all they want, but I'm telling you girl life finds a way. I was on the pill and yet now we have Evie" stef shrugged. "Not it" Genevieve shouted out. “Jesus Stef, don't let Leo hear you say that, I'll never get him off me.” the girls all looked at her knowingly “ok, more than he already is.” Anitah awkwardly giggled and chugged the rest of her mimosa. “Choo Choo, you’re on your own for now.” she mumbled, red in the face.

Alicia walked in their quarters after lunch with the girls, to find Leo standing Naked in the bedroom. Her hand flew over her mouth. “I thought we could get a little baby making in before my next meeting.” he grinned. Alicia shook her head and giggled “You are really enjoying this aren't you?” “Oh more than you know love. Now, come here.”

Tag list: @scarlettedragon @speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @mind-reader1  @hopefulmoonobject @alicars @katurrade @indiacater @bella-ca @blznbaby @blackwidow2721 @liamxs-world @simsvetements @furiousherringoperatortoad @choicesfannatalie @crookedslimecreatorpasta @coldcollectornight08 @museofbooks @syltti78 @ao719 @blubutterflyy @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @liam-rhys-x-mc-x-constantine @riseandshinelittleblossom @laniquelovesworld @gibbles82 @editboutique @gardeningourmet

@annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @ooo-barff-ooo @tornbetween2loves @ownworldresident @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @wannabemc2 @zaffrenotes @enmchoices @lodberg @heatherfilliez @smalltalk88

#cgw trr au #cgw trr #cordoniansgonewild #cordonians gone wild #leo x alicia #choices trr #leo trr #trr fanfic #trr #trr maxwell #stef x maxwell #maxwell beaumont #leo rhys #prince leo #alicia rhys #squad trr #cgw squad #squad babies

[hotfrost]

poor baby

#was debating on whether to give her a fever coat #willowkit #kit #riverclan #starclan #crookedstar’s promise #warriors #warrior cats #myart* #mine #art #warriorsdesigns

[crashdevlin]

Marion- 11: Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now

Marion Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This started as an excuse to write some Castiel/OFC loving, but it blossomed into an epic-length fic and even an AU where Marion was with them the whole time.

Summary: Marion doesn’t like how Cas is acting and she’s preparing for the letdown Chuck warned her about.

Pairing(s): Castiel/Marion

Word Count: 3403

Chapter Warnings: Other side of Frontierland, Cas being a shitty boyfriend, angsty-angst-angst

Marion sat at Bobby’s kitchen table. She stared down at the locket she’d found in her pocket when she returned to the present time. It had to be from Castiel, some sort of apology for the fact that she’d barely been able to speak to him lately. It’d been months, actually. She’d gotten more conversation from his doppleganger in that other universe than she’d gotten from her beau. Misha had been very talkative. She’d been sad to see him die. Dean and Sam didn’t seem as affected by it. She listened to her twin cursing the amount of ash Colt had sent them as she tried once again to pry the locket open. There didn’t seem to be any glue holding it closed but she couldn’t get it open, no matter how hard she tried. As she heard Bobby’s front door open, she put the necklace in her pocket. She couldn’t feel bad for her failed relationship, right now. She smiled curtly and nodded slightly at Sam and Bobby as they headed for the basement where Dean was working.

“Hey.” Sam started. “How you doing?”

“Five shells.” Dean growled. “That’s how I’m doing.”

Sam sighed. “Well, you know, it’s a hell of a lot more than what we had last week.”

“Maybe.” Dean said, as Marion walked up.

“Meaning?” She asked.

“Meaning… I just had myself a little mishap a few minutes ago, and… uh, well, here, look.” Dean said, grabbing some of the ash and rubbing it on his arm. Nothing happens.

“Whoa.” Sam whispered.

“I mean, this stuff is supposed to burn the bejeezus out of Eve, doesn’t even give me a sunburn.”

“Lore says it works.” Bobby responded.

“That’s always reliable.” Dean said, cynically.

“Maybe that’s not how it works. You are human.” Marion chimed in.

“Yeah, you know what? Maybe it’s like, uh- maybe it’s like iron or silver. You know? Hurts them, not us.”

“Maybe, but a fat lot of good it does us ‘til we find the bitch.”

“I’m lookin’, but I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s time you made a call.” Bobby said, looking pointedly at Dean.

“Why me? He’s not my-”

Marion shook her head and started back up the stairs. She was exhausted on calling out to Castiel and him not answering her. She wasn’t sure she could take it again.

Dean turned back to the guys, knowing not to push it any further with his sister. “Why has it always got to be me that makes the call, huh? It’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy.”

Marion stopped at the top of the stairs as she heard the telltale sound of wings. She debated whether or not to turn back around for a minute, before settling to sit on the top step and look down on the scene.

Dean quickly moved away and spun around. “Cas, get out of my ass!”

“I was never in your-” Castiel started, but gave a confused look as he stopped. “Have you made any progress in locating Eve?”

“Well, we were gonna ask you about that.” Bobby said.

“No. I’ve looked, but she’s hidden from me. She’s hidden from all angels.” Castiel answered, casting a quick glance up to Marion.

“Awesome.”

“You know, what we really need is an inside man.” Sam said.

“What do you mean?”

“Something with claws and sympathy.”

“Like a friendly monster?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged. “Those are in short supply these days, don’t you think?”

“Sure, but we’ve met one or two, right?” Sam said.

“Maybe.” Dean responded sourly.

“So we can find one.”

“Anybody you can think of, somebody still alive?” Bobby asked.

A moment of silence passes as Sam and Dean rack their minds for allies who hadn’t been killed in the Apocalypse or the lead-up to the Apocalypse. Marion cleared her throat and stood from her spot at the top of the stairs. She stepped down 3 steps and avoided Castiel’s gaze as she leaned over the railing to look at her brothers. “Lenore. You need to find Lenore.”

“Vampire Lenore. Thank God you’ve got my memories, cause I forgot about her.” Dean said, before turning to Cas. “Lenore. She’s a vegetarian vampire. You find her, we might have a lead.”

Castiel nodded and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion sat upstairs in the kitchen by herself. She was staring down at the locket again. It reminded her of the other gifts he’d left behind without a word. They used to make her happy. They had been proof of his love. But now she felt like they were just things, things he threw her way so she wouldn’t get in his way.

“Marion!” She heard Dean call from the basement.

She pushed the locket deep into her pocket and stood. When she gets to the basement, she sees Lenore dead and knows that Castiel killed her.

“Grants Pass, Oregon.” Bobby said.

“And Lenore?” She asked.

Dean and Sam both gave a quick glance at Castiel, but then looked away. “She asked to be killed, so that she wouldn’t kill anymore. I acquiesced.” Castiel responded.

Marion nodded. “I’m ready when you boys are.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion sat in a chair pulled up to the booth in the diner, a plate of fries in front of her that she had taken to playing with instead of eating.

“Alright. I finally got the police database, no thanks to this.” Bobby said, gesturing to the iPad in his hands. “I asked for a computer.”

“It is a computer.” Sam defended.

“No, a computer has buttons.” Bobby responded, as the waitress walked up.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re good. Thanks.” Dean dismissed her.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nickel and dime stuff, nothing weird. Basically, a dead end. You think Vampira was lying?” Bobby asked.

“I’ll search the town. Give me a moment.” Castiel volunteered.

Everyone around the table looked at Castiel, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

“Cas, we can still see you.” Dean piped up.

Castiel looked around, confused. “Yeah. I’m still here.”

“Okay, well you don’t have to wait on us, you-” Dean said, trying to understand what was going on. Castiel cleared his throat and seemed to strain to fly. “Well, now it just looks like you’re pooping.”

“Something’s wrong.” Castiel said, plainly.

“What, are you stuck?” Marion asked.

“I’m blocked. I’m powerless.”

“You’re joking?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Something in this town is, uh, it’s affecting me. I assume it’s Eve.”

Marion rolled her eyes. *Of course it’s Eve.*

“So, wait, Mom’s making you limp?” Dean asked.

“Figuratively, yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she is.”

“Well, that’s great, because without your power, you’re basically just a baby in a trench coat.” Dean snapped.

Marion would have felt offended for her boyfriend if it weren’t so true.

“I think you hurt his feelings.” Sam said.

Bobby cleared his throat to get their attention back. “I got something here, maybe. Had to go federal to get it. Call went out from the local office to the CDC last night.”

“About what?” Sam asked.

“A Dr. Silver called in an illness he couldn’t identify. Patient’s a 25 year old, African-American, name- Ed Bright.”

“Well, that’s not much to go on.”

“Well, its our only lead, so-”

Dean interrupted Bobby’s thought with a nod. “So beggars can’t be choosers, right? I get it. Alright, let’s finish up.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion stood at the doorway of the frat house. Dean and Castiel had insisted that she not go into the infection zone, but she couldn’t stand out there next to a powerless Castiel, knowing that if he could disappear, he would. Marion was in the perfect position, though, to hear everything her brothers were saying.

“Hey, Ed. Ed, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Uh, nothing. You’re ok. You’re okay, alright? We’re gonna get you help.” Sam responded.

“What? No, no. No, no, no, no, no, of course not. You, uh, you have a fever. You’re hallucinating.”

“Marshall, Marshall. Hey, what happened here?” Sam pushed. “No, you’re not gonna die, okay? Now you need to talk to us. It’s important.”

“And before you got sick, before Ed got sick, did you do anything? Did you go anywhere? Hey, I need you to focus for me.” Sam asked. “A bar? What bar? 8th street, um, did anything happen at the bar? Did you- did you see anything? Did you meet anyone? Look, an ambulance is on the way, okay?”

“A girl? Okay, and?” Dean urged. Marion could hear the desperation in her brother’s voice and knew the boy was on the edge. “Good, okay. What did the girl in white do? Marshall? Wh-wh-what did she do to Ed? Marshall?”

Marion genuflected for the poor dead boy as her brothers walked over to join her. “I don’t get it. What, a bunch of regular Joes wake up shifters? What the hell?”

“Shifters usually run in families. This looks like an infection. Nobody touched nothing?” Bobby seemed to direct the question to Marion.

“Didn’t even go in.” She mumbled.

“Well, I am bathing in Purell tonight.” Dean said.

“So, he said they met a girl.” Sam informed the others.

“It’s gotta be Eve.”

“But why would she do this?” Castiel questioned.

“Mommy monster- make more.”

“No, no, no, no. Cas has got a good point. I mean if she’s gonna make a shifter army, why make one that’s sick, gooey and dying?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Add that to the pile of Crap That Don’t Make Sense.”

“So should we hit the bar?” Marion asked.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion looked around the bar. She was a bit disgusted by the amount of dead people-monsters.

“Well, the sheriff’s a mook, but still.” Bobby started to say as he walked around the bar.

“You’d think he’d notice this many missing people.” Marion agreed.

“We got a vamp over here. Nope. Scratch that. We got a wraith. What the hell? What has teeth and a spike?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” Marion said.

“Never seen that in my life.” Bobby confirmed.

“Oh, great. So Eve’s making hybrids now?” Dean asked.

“Looks like.”

“Yeah, the question is why. I mean what does she want with the… what do you call these?” Dean asked.

“Well, congrats.” Bobby droned. “You discovered it. You get to name it.”

Marion rolled her eyes, knowing a rock reference was coming. Dean looked around, before matter-of-factly saying, “Jefferson Starships.”

“Oh, god.”

“Huh, because they’re horrible- and hard to kill.” Dean finished, looking very proud of himself.

“I like Starship.” Marion muttered, leaning down close to the wood floor to examine a dead Starship.

“You would.” Dean quipped.

Sam chose to ignore it and move on. “Looks like the whole bar has been turned into these-”

“Jefferson Starships.” Dean interjected.

“Fine. But why are all the… Starships dead?” Sam finished.

“Can’t say, but looks like they all burned up.” Bobby said, examining the monsters.

“Burned up, like?” Dean asked.

“Like a high fever, like the flu.” Marion answered.

“What the hell’s going on here? Does every monster in this town have the damn motaba virus?” Dean asked as the sheriff and two deputies showed up at the door to the bar.

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” The sheriff yelled.

Marion dropped completely to the floor, hoping they wouldn’t notice her in the sea of bodies.

“Now this is not what it looks like.” Castiel said.

“Look, we’re the Feds.” Bobby insured.

“Yeah? Well, Feds are not allowed to do this. Cuff ‘em. Turn around.” Marion watched from the ground as Castiel, Bobby, and Sam were led out the door. She was ecstatic that she hadn’t seen Dean’s boots walking out the door. Once she was sure the locals were gone, she stood up, careful not to touch any of the Starships. She looked over to the bar and breathed a heavy sigh. Dean was standing up from behind the bar.

“When did you get smart enough to hide in bad situations?” Marion quipped. “Come on, we gotta follow ‘em.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion watched from the doorway as Bobby questioned the sheriff, slashing him with a silver knife. Castiel stood off from the side, just staring. He seemed cold, upset and not just at the situation with Eve or the fact that he was powerless. She didn’t know how to approach it. She knew that she should talk to him. He was her boyfriend, after all, even if he wasn’t a very attentive one.

“Got a couple of hungry human boys here.” Dean said, leading two boys in from the cells. “C’mon guys.”

“So, you two never heard ‘em talk… about a mother, or someone named Eve?” Sam asked.

Marion looked at the group. The two sets of brothers. Something… wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was wrong.

The older boy shook his head. “It was just me and Ryan in there.”

“And your folks?” Dean asked, knowing the answer.

“Cops said we were next. He said we were food.”

“You have any other family?”

“An uncle, in Merritt.”

“Merritt, what’s that, like 15 miles outside of town? Okay. We’ll get you there.” Dean promised.

“Dean, can I have a word?” Castiel’s gravel voice prompted Dean to get up and walk away. Marion kept her eyes on the boys, but focused in on the angel’s words to her brother.

“We need to find Eve now.”

“Yeah. Go. Me and Sam just need to make a milk run.”

“We need your help here.” Castiel insisted.

“Hold your water. We’ll be back in a few.”

“Dean. Dean. Millions of lives are at stake, not just two. Stay focused.” Marion cringed a bit at the reaction she knew was coming because of the angel’s words.

“Are you kidding?”

“There’s a greater purpose here.”

“You know what, I-I’m getting a little sick and tired of the greater purpose, okay? I think what I’d like to do now is save a couple kids. If you don’t mind. We’ll catch up. Okay, guys, let’s go. C’mon.” Dean said, walking out the door.

“Damn it!” Marion cursed under her breath before rushing out the door and behind them. She grabbed Dean as he was getting in the driver’s seat and pulled him back out.

Ignoring that her twin looked ready to punch her, she shut the car door and whispered, “Something isn’t right, Dean. These kids shouldn’t have been here. These creatures, the Starships, have you seen any of the others saving food? No, they feed, they worship Eve and then they die. Why would they keep these boys for later?”

Dean shook his head and rested his hand on the door handle to show he was leaving as soon as he was done speaking. “Look, I’m gonna brush this off as you trying to agree with your boyfriend. We tested them. They’re human. You wanna stay here with Bobby and Cas, fine, but Sam and me, we’re takin’ them to their uncle’s place. We’re getting them out of this town. Now.”

Marion stepped back from the car, conceding defeat. “You go right ahead and ignore us, Dean. Ignore your twin sister and the only friend you’ve ever fucking had. Glad I’m not the only one you do that to.”

She didn’t look back as the door slammed and the tires squealed, but she turned when she got to the station door, just in time to see the taillights disappear over a hill. She looked up, wishing she hadn’t burned ties with Chuck, wishing she could call on God to tell her how this one ended. And for a few minutes, she considered taking a nap in the middle of this war zone, just to get a little reassurance from Lucifer. Lucifer, who was old enough to have probably met Eve before.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion walked inside about 20 minutes later, still sort of wanting a nap. As she walked past the sheriff’s office, she heard Castiel speaking in a hushed voice.

“I can’t go myself because Eve has… clipped my wings, so to speak. I would have to walk outside the area of her influence in order to fly there and take care of them. It would take far too long and Marion would notice my absence, even if Bobby did not. You must do this… I am certain… Even if they were not Children of Eve, you should have no qualms about killing them… I wouldn’t have asked you if I were not okay with the possible consequence… I will contact you after.”

Marion wasn’t sure what she had just heard but she knew it was something she wasn’t supposed to hear. “Hey. Who was that?” She asked, pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

Castiel put the phone back in his coat and walked out of the room. “It was Dean. They’ve left the boys in Merritt and will be on their way soon.”

Marion tilted her head a bit and followed him with her eyes as he walked toward the interrogation room. Castiel had just lied to her. No confusion, no misunderstanding, just a flat-out lie. She hadn’t even thought Castiel knew how to lie. “Oh. Okay.” was all she managed.

A few minutes later, Bobby was handing Marion a drink as Castiel came out of the interrogation room with his hands covered in blood. This wasn’t right. His actions were wrong. He was more distant, even darker than normal and that was bad.

“Eve’s at 25 Buckley Street. You can call Sam and Dean.” Castiel said, before walking off toward the restroom.

Bobby gave a pointed look to Marion, who tried to not show her discomfort. “How should I know, Bobby? The guy barely talks to me, anymore. We haven’t even kissed since right after Balthazar sent us to Bizarro-land. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, anymore.”

Marion pulled the locket out of her pocket and showed it to Bobby. “The only way I know we are still in a relationship, at all, is these little gifts he leaves for me. I’ve got a box full of them now.”

“Way he acts toward you, you sure he’s the one leavin’ ‘em?” Bobby asked, pulling out his phone to call Sam.

Marion stared at the drink in her hand and fought the uneasy feeling rising up in her stomach. “I need a nap.” she told herself.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

They walked up to the diner they’d eaten at earlier.

“You gotta be kidding me. She’s been in there the whole time?” Dean griped.

“Why’d she ever let us in?” Sam asked.

“Or out?” Marion added.

“Well, there’s one way to find out.”

“What, just stroll in? We don’t know who human or who’s her.” Bobby said.

“Well, there’s one way to draw her out. Me and Sam will go in.”

“Dean.” Bobby started.

“Look. If we don’t get a shot off, you three better.” Dean said.

“I’m going with you, Dean.” Marion said, pulling her brother’s arm toward her. “We both know that there is no ash in my shell. I’d rather be in there if shit goes down, then out here useless.” She whispered.

Dean nodded. “Didn’t mean for you to get that one.” He whispered back, walking forward.

She followed her brothers and sat down at the bar next to Sam. “Now what?” She and Dean asked in unison.

Sam pulled out his phone and used the camera to look around the diner for eye-flash. “Crap. Crap, crap.” He whispered.

“Starships?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there anybody in this diner that is not a flesh-eating monster?” Dean asked.

“Uh, me and Marion and you.”

“Okay, well, let’s get the hell out of here.” Dean said.

“Shall we?” Sam offered to Marion.

“Three specials, right?” The waitress asks, putting two plates down and then grabbing a third from behind her.

“Uh, no, that’s not for us. We were just headed out.” Sam said.

“Now that would be rude, Sam.” The waitress said, squaring off in front of them.

The siblings looked up at the woman for the first time. Her brunette hair was loose but pulled back. She seemed like a nice young woman. Except the coldness. Sam looked at both of his siblings before readjusting himself on the stool. “Let me guess. Eve.”

“Pleasure.” She said, curtly.

“Why don’t we step outside. Chat?” Dean asked.

“Why? This is private.” Eve said. She looked up and the Starships around the diner close the blinds. One of the monsters grabbed Dean’s bag and opened it, revealing the shotguns. Eve reached into the bag and grabbed Dean’s gun, she sniffed the end. “Phoenix ash. I’m impressed. I bet you had to go a long way for that.”

“You have no idea.” Dean mumbled. Sam scoffed.

Eve handed the bag off to a Starship. “Destroy these. Thank you.” She smiled curtly at the Winchesters. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.”

“No? Just to rally every freak on the planet, bring in Khan Worms and-and half-assed spider-men… and dragons. Really, sister? Dragons?” Dean goaded.

“So I dusted off some of the old classics. I needed help.”

“With what?” Sam scoffed. “Tearing apart the planet?”

“You misunderstand me. I never wanted that. Not at first. I liked our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Marion asked, the words coming out a little more meek than she wanted.

“The natural order. My children turned a few of you, you hunted a few of them. I was happy.” Eve replied.

“Okay, so what changed?” Dean demanded.

“My children, no thanks to you, started getting kidnapped and tortured. Even my first borns.” Marion threw a quick glare at her brothers as Eve continued. “I was pushed into this. After all, a mother defends her children.”

“Really?” Dean asked, incredulously. “You’re gonna use the Mother of the Year defense? You?”

“It happens to be true. Know what? Maybe you’ll believe it if I look a little more like this.” Marion had to force herself not to look away as Eve changed her visage to look like her mother.

“Oh, you bitch.” Dean growled.

“She died to protect you, didn’t she? See. You understand a mother’s love. I’m no different.” Marion gave a shuddering sigh at the sound of her mother’s voice. Dean looked over, seeing the enamored look on his sister’s face, got angry.

“Alright, you know what? This conversation’s over. If you’re gonna kill us, kill us.”

“You? No. It’s Crowley I want dead.” Eve said.

“Well, you’re too late there- that little limey mook roasted months ago.” Dean snapped.

“Crowley’s alive.” Eve said, matter-of-factly.

“That’s impossible.” Sam said.

But Marion knew it wasn’t impossible. As soon as Eve had spoken the words, she knew it was true. It had never made sense, she realized, but she’d been so desperate to rejoin her brothers, to stop hiding, that she’d made herself believe it.

“Your sister knows it’s not impossible.”

Sam and Dean were soon staring at her expectantly. Marion looked down. “It never made sense. It was too easy. The King of Hell brought down by a single pawn of Heaven’s army? No way that happens. That’s not even how it works in actual chess.”

“If you didn’t think it was true, why didn’t you say something?” Sam asked.

“If Crowley was at least pretending to be dead, then you guys weren’t working for him, anymore. If he was not around, then I wasn’t in danger and I could come back. I just… ignored that it seemed wrong.”

“He’s alive. I see his face through the eyes of every child he strings up and skins. Any idea why he’s hurting my babies?” Eve asked, walking around the counter to stand between Marion and Sam.

“He wants Purgatory, right? Location, location, location.” Dean said.

Eve laughed. “Is that what he told you? It’s about the souls.”

“What about ‘em?” Sam asked.

“Their power, you simple little monkey. Fuel. Each soul a beautiful little nuclear reactor. Put ‘em together, you have the sun. Now think what the King of Hell could do with that vast, untapped oil well. How powerful he’d be. Now Crowley wants to siphon off my supply, and torture my children to do it? Okay, fine. I’ll quit playing nice. I’ll turn you all. Every soul, mine. Let’s see how hot his hell burns when everyone comes to me. He asked for it.”

“You know, last I checked, there were a few billion of us. That plan might take a while.”

“What exactly do you think I’m doing here? I’m building the perfect beast.” Eve said.

“Wait a second, all those- all those things we’ve been finding.” Sam said.

“Call it beta testing.” Eve quipped.

“Well, I think your formula might be a little off. They’re imploding all over town.” Dean said.

“Oh, there were a few unfortunate failures. But I eventually got it right. Quiet, smart, inconspicuous.”

As her brothers went back and forth with Eve about the Starships, Marion’s stomach twisted. *Quiet. Inconspicuous.* She gasped a little, and at the same moment Eve smiled and said, “Little Ryan.”, Marion whispered, “The boy.”

Eve threw a little smile her way, before turning to the brothers. “You look upset. If it makes you feel any better, Ryan was bound to work on you. Little wayward orphan, like yourselves. I almost thought Marion was gonna ruin it when she ran out to the car, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. So, let’s talk.”

“Nothing to say.” Sam answered.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I have an offer to propose. Crowley. As you know, not so easy to find. So, here’s the deal. You find him, bring him to me- I let you live.” Eve offered.

“Pass.” Dean answered, quickly.

“Dean.” Sam urged.

“Sam, no.” Dean turned to Eve. “The answer is no.”

“You say that like you have another option.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Dean tossed back.

“You think?” A side door to the diner opened and Marion closed her eyes in silent futility as Castiel and Bobby were pushed in. “Well, so much for your plan B.” Eve said before turning to Cas. “And you, wondering why so flaccid? I’m older than you, Castiel. I know what makes angels tick. Long as I’m around, consider yourself unplugged.”

Eve turned away from the angel and came over to wrap her left arm around Marion. “Work for me. It’s a good deal. Bonus, I won’t kill your friends. This little princess would probably hate to lose her angel.”

“Alright, look. The last few months we’ve been working for an evil dick. We’re not about to sign up for an evil bitch. I’m gonna take my sister’s advice on this. We don’t work with demons. We don’t work with monsters. And if that means you gotta kill us, then kill us!” Dean said.

*Now, he listens to me?!*

Eve let go of Marion and walked around to behind the counter. “Or, I turn you. And you do what I want, anyway.”

“Beat me with a wire hanger, answer’s still no.” Dean said.

Marion and Sam jumped up as Eve suddenly appeared behind Dean, grabbing his shoulders. She felt two hands grasp her arms firmly at the elbow, holding her in place.

“Don’t. Test me.” Eve said, her head right next to Dean’s ear.

Dean turned his head a little and glared at her as best he could. “Bite me.”

Marion closed her eyes as her brother’s blood spurted across the diner and the shouting began.

“No!” from her little brother.

“Dean!” from her sometimes lover.

And then, the sound of coughing with an other-worldly rumble behind it. She opened her eyes to see Dean standing. “Phoenix ash.” He pulled out an empty shotgun shell from his pocket. “One shell, one ounce of whisky. Down the hatch. Little musty on the afterburn. Call you later, Mom.” Dean said.

Marion was sad to see Eve turn back into her brunette visage. Sad that she couldn’t see her mother’s face anymore. But when the black liquid began to pour out of her facial orifices, Marion knew that Eve was dead, and that she should focus on the Starship holding her arms. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea, because all the Starships started to attack.

“Shut your eyes!” Castiel yelled.

Marion threw her arm over her eyes, but the white light still made it through. She spent a moment blinking away stars from her eyes as Bobby stepped over a few bodies toward Dean. “We gotta take you on more monster hunts.”

“Hey, Cas, um… Dean’s bleeding pretty good.” Sam said, looking over at Dean pressing a rag to his neck.

“Yeah, I think she turned me into a Jefferson Starship. Could you clear that up, too?” Dean groaned.

Castiel touched Dean’s shoulder, lightly, and the wound healed. Dean rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, we’re good. We got to go. Now.”

“Where?” Castiel asked, confused.

“The kid. The little kid. He’s one of ‘em.” Dean admitted.

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. I know, Cas. You told me, alright. Let’s just go.” Dean said, prompting Castiel to shake his head. Dean placed the empty shell on the counter and walked over to Castiel. Castiel shook his head again as he flew them to the uncle’s house in Merritt.

They all looked down at the dead uncle on the floor in the living room. “So, we kill the wicked witch and she still wins. I mean, they could’ve turned half the town by now.” Dean shook his head as Cas started to say something. “Don’t say it.”

Marion genuflected and turned away from the uncle as Bobby opened a door. “Found ‘em.” Bobby said, swinging the door open wider.

Marion followed her brothers and Castiel over to the door, which led to a cellar. “Well, who ganked them?” Dean asked.

Sam and Marion both bent down to investigate a yellow powder. Marion’s breath caught in her throat as Sam looked up and said, “Demons.”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

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#cassie writes stuff #castiel/ofc #twin fic #spn #spn fanfic

[multifandomwriter56]

His Little Spy: A New Start

A/N: This is the eighth prompt from my Ten Angst Prompts. I got the prompt from this post. Okay, so I have made this into a series. I’ve updated this first part. 

Prompt Sentence: "If you were never happy to begin with, how come you never told me? I would have listened, I would have helped-"

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Child!Reader (eleven years old), Polly Gray, mentions other Shelby members and Superior Mother (nun), mentions the young girl (I named her Rosa because I couldn’t find her name)

Summary: Y/n is the one who told Tommy about Mother Superior beating children and why the young girl killed herself in Season 5 Episode 3.

Warnings: language, angst, talks about suicide, talks about death, talks about racism, talks about children being physically abused 

Word Count: 1,827

Gif by @blakelivey​

It was a cold, depressing day at the Small Heath Sisterhood for Young Girls. Rosa had killed herself this morning. Mother Superior had told the girls she died from Scarlet Fever; but Y/n knew differently. 

She was the one to find Rosa and told Mother Superior who threatened to beat her if she told anyone. 

But this was the last straw. Her friend is gone all because of that woman. Making her eat alone at meals, using a different soap then the rest of the girls. Y/n tried to defend Rosa a few times but it never ended well. The only thing she did was make things worse for Rosa. 

She shivers as a cold wind slithers through her coat. A coat that is twice her size. She knocks on the door to #6 Watery Lane door. 

"What do you want?" A man Y/n doesn't know answers as he swings the door open. 

"Is Mr Shelby here?"

"Kid, you have to be more specific."

"Tommy Shelby."

"And what do you need to see Mr Shelby about?"

Ignoring the fact that he just called Tommy by his last name just like she did a moment ago; she raises an eyebrow. "That's not any of your business. If he's busy I can wait."

The man gives her a gentle shove. "Get lost, kid."

Y/n'e eyes narrow. She debated whether or not to just kick the man in the shin and run inside or if she should just come back later.

"Oi! Y/n, is that you?"

She relaxes when she hears a familiar voice. "Yeah, it's me Polly."

"Let her through, James."

The man steps to the side, letting the door open wider so she can get through.

Polly smiles at the young girl, but frowns as the girl limps towards her. "Are you here to see Tommy?" 

Y/n nods. "I know this isn't our normal time, but I really need to talk to him."

Polly nods her head, guiding her towards Tommy's office. She trusts the young girl and she knows, if Y/n is risking a scolding from Tommy for being out so late, then it must be important. It sill amazes her how much her nephew’s opinion matters to the eleven year old.

"Y/n, kid! Where the hell have you been?" Arthur greets in his overly loud voice. 

The young girl smiles warmly at the eldest Shelby. "I've been busy doing your job." She sasses.

Her smile widens when Finn and Isiah howl with laughter. 

"You little rascal." Arthur playfully growls as his fingers attack her sides. 

Y/n forces herself to laugh as pain shoots through her ribs. 

"Alright, leave the girl alone." Polly can tell something is wrong with the girl, but she's not sure exactly what it is. She gently nudges the girl towards the door of Tommy's office. 

Y/n knocks three times. When she hears an annoyed 'come in' she opens the door. "I can come back later, Mr Shelby, if you're busy?"

Tommy lifts his head at hearing that voice. "Y/n, what are you doing here?"

Y/n fully enters his office, closing the door behind her. "I need to talk to you."

Tommy gestures for her to sit down. Like Polly, he frowns when he notices the limp. His frown deepens when she doesn't sit, but stands in front of his desk. 

"Y/n, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. She's not here for her, she's here for Rosa. "I'm fine. It's my friend. She's- She's dead." 

Tommy nods, staying quietly so the girl will continue. He can't stop his concern from rising with each word though.

"It's Mother Superior's fault."

Tommy's eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise. "She killed her?" He’s recently heard rumors about how the Sisters have been treating the children. he was planning on having some men keep an eye on the orphanage for a couple of days. 

"No, not directly.” Y/n admits. “But she's gone because that bitch beat her all time. And she never deserved it, not once."

"And you do?"

"This isn't about me." She snaps, not only surprising herself, but Tommy as well.

The young girl has never used that tone with him; his brothers and his men, definitely. Even with Polly, he's seen her act defiantly towards his aunt; but not with him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Shelby. Rosa has never been the center of attention and I think she should be for this."

Tommy nods in agreement. She never ceases to amaze him how wise shescan be at her age. "Tell me what happened."

Y/n explains why and how Rosa died. Halfway through her explanation, Tommy rises to his feet and starts to pace. 

"How long has this been going on?"

Y/n swallows, her guilt eating away at her insides, knowing this is all her fault it went this far. "Since you saved me from my uncle and sent me there."

Tommy's eyes harden. Most of his anger is towards the nuns; but he is disappointed the girl didn't confide in him sooner. 

Feeling the business owner's anger, Y/n starts rambling. "I know, Mr Shelby, I know it's my fault. Rosa died because I kept this quiet. I should've come to you sooner." She starts muttering curse words under her breath. 

Tommy watches the girl, reaching inside his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. Exhaling a puff of smoke, his anger disappearing. "Y/n, stop muttering. And stop blaming yourself."

Y/n stops muttering but even the simple order can’t take away her guilt. Her eyes plead with him for his help. Ever since she met the gangster, she's always trusted him to help her; no matter what she needed. Abusive uncle? Had him arrested; even though Y/n's not sure that's what he did. Struggling with her schoolwork? Lets her sit in his office, answering any of her questions. Girl problems? He finds Polly or Ada for her. 

He's the closest thing she has to a father; but she knows he'll never see her like that. She's his spy. Her eyes record information that will help him with the company. She's told him a couple of times of someone betraying him. 

She's in debt to him. He saved her life and this is how she's repaying him. It's not much, but she feels useful; feels like she's helping the wealthiest man in all of Birmingham. 

She blinks rapidly when she feels a gentle hand on her cheek before meeting his concerned gaze.

"There she is. Where did my little spy go?"

"M'sorry, Mr Shelby."

Tommy shakes his head. "Don't be, love. Your mind went somewhere else, eh?" He says more than asks; taking his hand off her cheek and to the cigarette in his mouth.

She nods her head in agreement.

"I'm going to help; but I need you to do something for me in return."

Y/n nods again, she figured as much. 

"I need you to let Polly look at your injuries." He points a warning finger when she opens her mouth to argue. "I know Superior Mother gave you a beating."

She snaps her mouth closed, annoyed with herself and with the older man. She should've known he would easily notice her limp. "Fine."

"Good. Once Polly is satisfied, she will take you to the Grace Shelby Institute, where you will be staying until you're of age." Tommy wished he would've just settled her there in the first place. The only reason he didn't was because the girl begged him not to.

Y/n half-hoped he would offer to let her stay in his mansion. She feels safe with him and she likes to be around his son Charlie; Lizzie and the baby too. 

She doesn't move from where she's standing while Tommy gets Polly. She hears them whispering but doesn't turn around. 

She flinches when there's a hand on her shoulder. Polly comes to stand in front of her, her hand staying where it is as she guides the young girl closer to her. She sits in the closest chair before beginning her examination. 

"You silly, silly girl." She chides as she lifts the girls dress. 

Y/n blushes at her words. She glances at where Tommy is; thankful he's smoking another cigarette with his back turned towards them. Her eyes snap back to Polly when she grabs her chin. 

"If you were never happy to begin with, how come you never told me? I would have listened, I would have helped-"

"I know, Polly. I-I just couldn't leave Rosa." 

The eleven year old jumps when Tommy punches the door; muttering under his breath. She silently asks Polly why, but she just shakes her head.

Polly turns the girl, gasping when she sees her back and bottom. "Thomas, go get my ointments." When her nephew does as he was told, Polly turns the girl to face her; dropping her dress so it falls back in place. 

"Why did you not come to us sooner?" 

"This just happened yeste-"

"Don't lie to me." Polly snaps.

Y/n bites her lip. "I'm s-sorry. I really didn't think it would be important. I know I should've told you how they were treating Rosa and some of the other girls; but I really didn't believe that included me. You and Mr Shelby always tell me to behave or face the consequences."

Polly shakes her head. "This is not an appropriate punishment for a child. This should have never happened. And don't you dare apologize again." She snaps the last part, knowing exactly what the child was going to say.

Y/n turns her attention to Tommy who had returned during Polly's scolding; hoping he’ll help her. She’s trying to ignore the concerned, motherly glare Polly is sending her way. 

Tommy shakes his head, slightly amused. "Don't look at me that way. You're the one who decided to lie and keep things from her."

"You do it all the time." Y/n mutters.

He lightly taps the bag of medicine on top of the young girl's head before handing it to his aunt. He can’t deny her words though. 

"Tommy, we're shutting that place down."

"Already on it, Pol."

"Are you angry with me, Mr Shelby?" Y/n has to know. Did she destroy her chance to ever have a family?

"No, I'm not." He turns to leave to give them privacy. When he reaches the door, he turns around to face them. "Finn is going to take you to the Institute as soon as Polly is finished."

"She's staying with me."

Neither Tommy nor Y/n dared to argue when Polly spoke in that voice. He just nods his head before exiting his office. 

Y/n slowly shifts her eyes back to the only mother figure she's known; relaxing when she greeted with a small, sad smile. 

Tommy may not considered her family, but Polly does. 

It's a start.

Forevers: @beautycinders​ @desiredposion​

#ten angst prompts #tw:suicide #tw: physical assault #tommy shelby #child!reader #polly gray #peaky blinders

[imagines-so-what-if]

L is for Living Together

Headcanon and scenarios for Sherlock, Mycroft, and Moriarty

The prompt: In which you live together as his S/O

Genre: Fwuffy fwuff

Rating: K+

Reader type: Considerate 

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

Headcanon for living with Sherlock as his S/O:

Sherlock doesn’t care about who lives with him as long as s/he doesn’t disrupt his life too much. That being said when it comes to having an S/O live with him, he’ll likely want it early on in the relationship.

Sherlock’s never truly experienced a healthy romantic partnership so everything will feel intense and serious right away (along with lots of awkward moments because he has no clue what he’s doing). When he acknowledges that he’s in love with you, he’ll start having you stay over more and more, and for longer periods of time.

He’ll clear out several drawers for you to keep clothes in. He’ll complain when you have to go back over to your place, and he’ll actively give you reasons to stay with him.

Eventually you simply won’t go over to your place for a month or so and you’ll realize such.

When you bring it up, Sherlock will comment, “Then you’ve noticed there’s no need for you return.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Merely observing.”

So you make it official and move in with him and let everyone know. It’ll result in: 

John wishing you good luck with a fervor.

Mrs Hudson staring at you in disbelief, then her face lighting up with joy at the thought of Sherlock finally settling down!

Mycroft silently wishing the best for you two (but his only outward reaction will be a raised eyebrow)

Greg wondering if you’ve lost your mind, but wishing you the best nonetheless.

Chores will have to be established early and agreed upon. Sherlock’s never really been one to pick up after himself, or really do much around the house. It’s unfair to put that entire burden on you, though, so he’ll try. He’ll do the dishes without a fuss, and he’ll take the out the trash. Everything else will be up for debate, though. You will absolutely have to do the cooking (if Mrs Hudson isn’t around) because Sherlock hardly remembers to eat, let alone make food.

Sleeping will be an oddity. Sherlock has an erratic sleeping pattern and as much as he wants to be able to sleep through the whole night beside you, he’s going to have some nights where that’s simply not possible.

He’ll leap out of bed sometime around midnight, his mind working furiously on something. He’ll pace restlessly outside of the bedroom, unintentionally making quite a bit of noise. If you’re supportive of his playing-the-violin-at-two-in-the-morning then he’ll be playing his violin. There are some nights where it can’t be helped and he’ll play with such a fever that no one can stop him until he’s done.

If he wakes you up during this he’ll apologize. If you have to work that morning, or a busy day the next day he’ll feel guilty and try to make it up to you. But if you decide to get up with him and join him on his sporadic burst of energy then he’ll be appreciative. He’ll enjoy your company and he’ll play whatever song you’d like on his violin. 

His favorite pastime during nights like that, however, are playing board games or cards. 

There will be some nights he won’t let you sleep at all.

Do not even try to get him up at a set time. When he finally goes to sleep nothing short of a bomb will get this bby boy out of bed.

It won’t be uncommon to wake up alone in bed only to find that he crashed on the couch after a restless night (he didn’t want to wake you coming back into bed).

On the nights he does sleep with you, he likes to be the big spoon. He’ll drape his arm over you and nuzzle into your hair.

Unless he’s having a bad night, then he’ll like to be the little spoon.

His experiments will be chaotic and messy. He’s not going to stop experimenting any time soon because it’s one of the few “healthy” things that can entertain him. That being said he’ll try to keep it to one (two) room(s).

He’ll go shopping with you. He’ll hate it and act grumpy about it, but he doesn’t want you to do it alone (unless you would prefer to do it alone). He’ll help carry the bags and put the food away.

This all changes if he can get away with online grocery shopping and have everything delivered.

John will still stop by on a regular basis to go on cases with Sherlock. They’ll continue to use the living room as the “client” room, so be careful of unexpected guests showing up.

Don’t walk around half naked because if a client sees you like that Sherlock’s going to give them a concussion. And that’s bad for business.

No privacy. Between Sherlock and his brother you can expect nothing of yours to remain private or hidden from the two. Unless you’re a better hacker / programmer than either of the two.

Surprise shower visits! Sometimes he’ll just come into the bathroom and talk to you while you’re showering/bathing. If you invite him in, though, he’ll usually accept the invitation (only time he says no is if he’s in a hurry) .

Everything important to him has a place. Don’t move anything unless you want him to sulk for a week.

He doesn’t care how you decorate the apartment. Don’t ask him to go furniture shopping because he will, without a doubt, pick the ugliest thing imaginable over and over until you decide to do it yourself.

He has a bad habit of throwing clothes near the laundry basket instead of in it. It’s a problem.

He is remarkably bad at cooking. He can manage burnt toast and frozen dinners, but everything else is as foreign to him as the solar system.

Is oddly picky when it comes to tea.

He’ll remind you of the weather every day before you leave. He’ll either hand you an umbrella, or force you into heavier clothes.

He likes it when you wear his clothes.

Wants a big dog, but will never get one on his own. He won’t object to you bringing a big puppy into the home (or lots of puppies), but he’ll get snippy if they mess up one of his experiments or lose their bladders inside the home.

That being said he’ll love to cuddle with them (and they’ll love him because all dogs love Sherlock because they can sense that he really needs all the love and affection). He’ll take them out for walks and spoil them with treats (but he won’t remember to feed him, that’ll be up to you).

He keeps a lot of candles on hand for blackouts. He has several emergency kits scattered around the flat.

Every time he sees you when he comes home, he’ll feel warm inside. 

Sherlock Scenario

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you quietly moved about the flat. You had to wake up early that day to go to an appointment, and Sherlock had unfortunately kept you up until three (you had to leave by five). You barely got a half hour of sleep in before your alarm went off.

Sherlock was still seemingly crashed on your bed, oblivious to the world around him. It was sweet looking at him like that; his face entirely relaxed and his dark curls falling over his eyes like a curtain. You wished you could enjoy it longer, but unfortunately the appointment really couldn’t be missed.

So you sucked it up and got ready. You moved slowly, tiredly, but did your best to keep quiet out of consideration for your sleepy boyfriend. You had only just grasped the doorknob when you felt a heavy coat on your shoulders.

Turning your head, you were surprised to find a groggy Sherlock wrapping a coat around you.

“It’ll be cold,” he mumbled, bleary eyes looking you over. 

You smiled tiredly at him, slipping your arms into the coat. Sherlock reached over to the coat rack and grabbed his favorite scarf. He wrapped it around you before tugging it up to cover the lower half of your face. He leaned forward and placed a brief kiss on your nose.

You couldn’t resist leaning towards him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist and closing your eyes.

He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “It’ll rain, too.”

“Thank you,” you said.

Sherlock pulled away long enough to put a hat over your head and to hand you his umbrella. You tilted your head back, closing your eyes expectantly. 

Taking the hint, the tired detective gently placed his lips over yours. 

“We’ll finish this later,” you said, pulling away.

“I look forward to it.” 

Headcanons for living with Mycroft as his S/O:

Mycroft’s never entered into a serious relationship. The best that could be said about his past relationships were one-night stands, or things that had to be done for his job. He’s never fallen in love with any of them, and so has never courted someone with the honest intention of spending the rest of his life with her/him. 

When Mycroft realizes that he does love you, it’ll cause some minor hiccups in his mind for a few days as he adjusts. When he’s finally ready to act on his feelings the relationship will turn intense very fast. 

He won’t be subtle about his intentions, and he’ll be upfront about wanting you to live with him. 

Mycroft won’t advertise this development. The only one who will figure it out within the first year will be Sherlock and he’ll give you a look of disbelief as if to say: Really? Him? 

Chores will be done by the servants unless you absolutely want to do them. Mycroft likes having a clean and orderly home, but he doesn’t have the time to pick up after himself or clean it himself, so he hires maids that come in every day and tidy the place up.

He doesn’t eat or sleep in a traditional manner. Due to his work his schedule is a little whacked up. 

The only thing consistent about his schedule is that he is always awake before dawn, and he always has a big breakfast. Lunch will be skipped without hesitation if he gets involved in his work, and dinners either don’t happen or occur extremely late at night.

Of course he will make it a point to try and eat with you (that’s what couples do, right?), but it’ll be a 50/50 on whether it actually happens. Every time he has to cancel he’ll send you flowers. 

Sleeping will be the other sporadic part. Mycroft attempts to go to bed at a decent enough hour to get rest, but there will be times that that simply doesn’t happen. Still, he’ll make sure to tuck you in and lay with you until you fall asleep before he slips out and continues to work.

He will always be there when you wake up (unless he’s out of the country in which case he’ll send you a morning message). 

On the nights that he does get to sleep with you he’s not prone to physical affection. He didn’t grow up with it, nor is he touch-starved enough to suddenly turn into a cuddly person. He won’t turn you away if you do you want to cuddle (and he’ll be happy to hold you if it’ll help you fall asleep), but he won’t actively seek it out. 

Shopping will be done online and taken care of by the servants. He doesn’t have the time to do it, nor does he care enough to make the time. 

No privacy. Between him and Sherlock you simply won’t be able to keep a secret. 

He loves taking baths with you. Salt baths are his favorite as they’re one of the few things that he can relax to. He’ll make an evening of it if he can. 

Mycroft prefers traditional decorum over modern. He’d prefer it if his home reflected that taste, but if you hate it too much he’ll be open to change. That being said you cannot change his library or office. He’ll get you your own rooms if you want to decorate them that bad.

He loves reading with you. Sitting beside one another in front of a fireplace and reading a good book is like his own private heaven (especially if there’s cake involved). 

He’s a cat person. He doesn’t mind dogs, but he hates slobber. He likes cats because they don’t require constant attention (little does he know), but he’ll never get one on his own because he detests getting cat hair over his suits. 

If you got a pet he wouldn’t object as long as it didn’t destroy his home or disrupt his life too much. 

Of course the animal would either hate him or love him. There is no middle ground. 

He is a phenomenal baker. If he has the energy and time he’ll make beautiful desserts. There will be a few happy times where you come home and the entire mansion smells like a bakery because he got into the mood. 

He loves seeing you eat his cakes. 

Mycroft absolutely has a panic room, several escape routes, and some top-notch security. 

He also collects antique swords. 

Seeing you every day when he comes home will be one of the biggest stress relievers of his life. 

Mycroft Scenario

You were enjoying a wonderful novel that night. It was storming heavily, and you could hear each boom of thunder clearly and loudly. The mansion creaked from the heavy winds, and most of the lights were out (your home was running on the back up generator by that point). 

You had the fireplace going in front of you, and you were curled up on the couch and under a thick blanket. Occasionally the room lit up in bright white light when lighting stretched across the sky outside the large window, but for the most part it was bathed in warm light from the fire.

Another clap of thunder drew your attention away from your book for a brief moment. In that same instant you could hear footsteps behind you. Turning your head, you found Mycroft entering the room, surprisingly not wet. 

‘Must have parked in the garage, then,’ you thought. 

“Welcome home,” you said, smiling warmly at him.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mycroft said, walking around the couch so he was between you and the fire. He gestured towards your book. “Good read?”

“Mm-hmm. Did you eat?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “You?”

“Was waiting for you,” you said. 

“Then I shall not make you wait any longer,” Mycroft murmured, extending his hand towards you. You pushed back your blanket and placed your warm hand in his cool one. His fingers curled around your hand. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. 

Another clap of thunder sounded, this one significantly louder and strong enough to shake you. You jumped in surprise at it, and Mycroft pulled you into him. He ran his fingers through your hair and said, “Now, now, my dear. No need to be scared of a sound.”

“You’re awful,” you said, although you were smiling from his light teasing. You could feel his chest vibrate from his quiet chuckles. He placed a kiss on top of your head. 

“Simply the worst,” he agreed, “but I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for quite some time.”

“I suppose I can live with that.”

Headcanons for living with Moriarty as his S/O:

When Moriarty realizes that he likes you in a If-this-person-dies-I-will-lose-my-fucking-mind way he’ll bring you to his penthouse. He won’t really ask you to move in, so much as make it nearly impossible for you to have a reason to leave. 

 His clients only come up to the first half of the skyscraper, and the rest of the floors are dedicated to his private work and living space. The penthouse, the top most floor, will be where he wants you to stay, but you’ll have access to a few floors below. 

Anything and everything you would ever need would be in that building, or promptly brought in at your request. You will be entirely safe there and able to do nearly whatever your heart desires (except leaving the building without Moriarty’s permission). 

You don’t have to worry about chores or maintaining the home. He’ll hire maids to do that for you (or butlers if that’s what you want, he doesn’t care). 

You moving in with him won’t be advertised. Certainly those who see you in the building will know, but you won’t really be able to tell your friends or family. He’ll convince you that it’s safer that way, and if—for whatever reason���you had to meet up with them then he’ll arrange a safe public area for you to do so.  

Given his work he doesn’t eat and sleep in a typical sense. There are times (weeks even) where he’s able to work on a standard schedule, but there are just as many times where he has to forgo sleeping in a bed or eating anything other than protein bars. 

When he has a standard schedule he will make it a point to eat with you at least once a day (usually dinner). On an erratic schedule he’ll send you little messages around the time to remind you to eat. 

On a standard schedule he’ll sleep with you for at least six hours (it’s rare he’ll sleep longer than six hours straight). He’ll come with you to bed, hold you tight in his arms, and make sure you’re the first one to fall asleep. He’ll do his best to be there when you wake up, but that won’t always be the case. On a sporadic schedule he’ll make do with calling you when you go to sleep, and having you call him when you wake up.

Any and every time he has to cancel plans with you he’ll buy you presents, be that clothes, flowers, games... whatever strikes your fancy. 

D o n o t t o u c h his collection of “shoes.” 

He loves surprise shower/baths visits. Frankly, he loves any activity that involves being undressed with you. 

If, goodness forbid, someone else saw you like that though (such as an unlucky servant walking in with awful timing) then they’re getting their eyes popped out, at the very minimum. 

He loves music. Every time he’s home with you there will be music playing in the background. He’ll swing you into his arms and dance with you around the penthouse to it. 

He loves slow dancing with you.

Best of the best when it comes to security. 

Moriarty isn’t much of a pet person. Animals typically hate him (likely sensing his naturally sadistic nature), but he won’t care if you bring one along. As long as they don’t touch his music or shoes, it’s fine. 

Decorate the place however you want. Make it pink like Barbie, or black like Metallica. He truly doesn’t care, so don’t waste your time trying to make him pick stuff out. 

He loves sitting by the fireplace and watching it. He’ll enjoy it more if you sit beside him and cuddle. 

If you’re ever cooking in the kitchen he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you and watch. He’s not much of a chef himself, but he likes seeing you work with knives and fire. 

If you greet him every day with warmth when he comes home he’ll give you a genuine smile. 

Moriarty Scenario

It was around midnight and you woke up having to use the restroom. You weren’t surprised to see that he wasn’t in bed, knowing he probably had more work to do.

After using the restroom, though, you wondered if you should check in on him. You knew he appreciated it when you gave him a reason to take a break. 

So you left your bedroom and headed to the office, but you found that it was empty and dark. Curious, you walked around the spacious penthouse before you finally found him in the living room in front of fireplace.

He was sitting crisscross, leaning back, and staring intently at the warm cherry fire. You approached him quietly, pulling the blanket off the couch as you passed by it.

Jim didn’t react right away when you placed the blanket around his shoulders, or when you sat down beside him. You scooted closer to him, and his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck and you felt him place a brief kiss on your forehead.

The two of you stared at the fire, watching as it slowly cracked and split the wood. Bits of ember and ash burned lazily around the wood, and sparks flew off it at random. The smell was calming, and the sound pleasing.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed there, both completely at ease and enjoying the moment. You thought it couldn’t have been more than half an hour (you later learned it was nearly two), before Jim broke the silence by saying, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m okay,” you said.

But he didn’t say anything else, merely standing up and pulling you up with him. His fingers curled around your own and he tugged you closer to him. His other hand cupped your face and he kissed you softly. “I’ll join you this time.”

You smiled at that. 

#Sherlock x reader #Sherlock headcanons #Sherlock reader insert #Sherlock imagines #Sherlock scenario #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft headcanons #Mycroft reader insert #Mycroft imagines #Mycroft scenario #Moriarty x reader #Moriarty headcanons #Moriarty reader insert #Moriarty imagines #Moriarty scenario #x reader #reader insert #headcanons #Sherlock hc #Mycroft hc #Moriarty hc

[mouseymatchmaker]

Batboys call Batmom “mom” for the first time

If I can request, can you make a Bruce Wayne x Reader, and it's about how all four boys call her mom/mother/any other mom names for the first time?

Requested by: anonymouse

Hope you enjoy this sweetie! Heaven knows I did :D These were meant to be shorter... Oops... :P I got carried away... So these are most about the scenarios when they first call batmom by a mothering name as opposed to batmom’s reaction... Hope that’s okay!

Tag list: @cattwomannn (If you want to be tagged in anything I write, just let me know, it doesn’t necessarily have to be for this fandom :D)

Dick:

Y/N clapped with the rest of the crowd as they watched the performers take a bow. She had taken Dick to see a circus performance that was taking place in Gotham. She had know that he loved being part of the circus, the familiarity of it, the family that had been made within it’s community and that he missed it dearly. Also, since Bruce had taken on Dick as his ward, the two of them had never managed to spend any time with just the two of them to build on their relationship. So, here they were. Bonding over Dick’s passionate love for acrobatics and the circus.

“Did you enjoy that Dick?” Y/N asked as they left the tent.

“Yeah! It was great! I mean, they weren’t as good as the circus I’m from but they were amazing!” Dick gushed as he walked with her. Y/N knew she couldn’t replace his mother, hell she didn’t want to. But she would be damned if she left him without a maternal figure. Y/N was content with Dick just accepting her into his life.

Dick chatted all the way to the car and for most of the journey back to the mansion, explaining every little detail and trick that the acrobats could use to their advantage. Y/N listened, enraptured by the boy’s passion. As they got closer to the house, Y/N noticed Dick’s head drooping and his voice slowing. A gentle smile made it’s way onto her face. He was still so new at being a vigilante alongside Bruce. The sleep pattern, or lack of, was taking it’s toll on him.

Once the car was parked, Y/N walked to Dick’s side of the car and gently picked him up. The boy was practically dead to the world. As she carried him through the mansion, Y/N spotted Bruce approaching them. “No patrol for him tonight” she said softly.

“No. I think not” Bruce replied, smoothing over the boys hair.

Together, they took Dick to his room, took his shoes and coat of before tucking him in. One eye opened blearily and he gave them a dopey sleepy smile.

“-ove you Mom… -ove you Dad” he murmured sleepily before rolling over. Y/N stared, stunned. Dick was just too pure for them.

Jason:

Frantic with worry, Y/N made her way down to the batcave. Jason and Batman had been on patrol and they’d had a run in with Scarecrow. Jason, in his recklessness, had taken the full brunt of a dose of Fear Toxin. It had reacted within a few minutes. Scarecrow had gotten away as Batman had to subdue Jason and get him back to the Batcave. Before Y/N had been informed, by Alfred, an antidote had been hastily made and administered. But the boy was still twisting and turning in whatever nightmare he was having.

“He’ll just have to see it through to the end Y/N” Bruce said calmly as he pulled his cowl back on. Though his voice may have been calm, Y/N saw he was furious in his eyes. With Jason and with Scarecrow. Though Jason may get a lecture on recklessness, Y/N knew that the fear toxin was punishment enough. It was Scarecrow who was going to get the punishment tonight.

“Stay safe and keep away from that goddamn toxin!” she warned Bruce before leaving the batcave. Apparently Jason was sweating the toxin out and was therefore running a high fever. They didn’t want to administer anything else into his system in case it reacted badly. So, Y/N and Alfred were on watch duty for the night. Y/N knocked on Jason’s door and stepped inside

“Go get some sleep Alfred. I’ll take over until morning” She offered as she walked over to the bed. Jason was pasty and beaded with sweat; his lips were parted and his breath was labored. Alfred agreed, taking one last worried look at the boy before leaving.

“You know where to find me Miss, if anything goes wrong”

Y/N nodded her understanding and took Alfred’s seat next to Jason. Blearily opening his eyes, Jason looked at her sadly.

“Did I do something bad mama?” He asked weakly, his lower lip wobbling as if he was about to cry. Y/N felt her heart reach out to him.

“Are they mad?” he asked again. His eye glassy, as if he wasn’t really seeing her. Shaking her head, Y/N reached out and smoothed the damp hair away from his forehead.

“No, they’re just worried about you angel… Just sleep now and get better” she cooed as she picked up a rag and dipping it in the cool bowl of water Alfred had provided. She would watch over her little boy until he was better.

Tim:

Today was a day of celebration! Tim was tying the knot! Or at least, he would be once he finally got over his nerves. He had less than half an hour until he got in the car and made his way to the venue to get married. It wasn’t like he was particularly unsure about this, he knew he loved them and wanted to be with them. It was more to do with the fact that what if he did something wrong? Forgot his vows? What if he became so nervous he forgot their name?! If he tripped and ripped their dress?

Tim groaned as he sat on his bed. He’d wanted time to himself, to breath, so he’d sent his groomsmen off to fix any minor issues that had arisen. There was no one here to calm him down or give him any words of comfort. His heart hammered against his chest. Or was that the door? It was the door!

“C-” Tim coughed “Come in” he called. The door opened and standing on the other side was Y/N. His heart lifted a little. Y/N had been a beacon of light in his life in dark times. In fact, she had been the one to help him pick out a ring, sort out the proposal and then kept his brothers away from ruining it. Above all else, Y/N had also saved his life once. Never had he see her so mad that she launched herself at a villain with a battle ax. Whilst he’d been assured the villain lived, they’d never heard from him since. He owed Y/N so much.

“Hey… The car’s going to get here soon and Dick’s demanding a photo with all the groomsmen before you go” she said softly as she walked over to him. Y/N always knew when something was wrong.

“Right. I’ll be ready to go… soon” Tim replied, his throat tight.

“What’s wrong sweetie?”

“What if I mess up? What if they leave me at the altar?! What if-” he rambled his worried to her, his hands wringing together in nerves. Eventually, a soft hand stilled his own.

“Baby… They would never do that to you. As for your vows, tell them exactly what you feel about them and your union together. You can’t go wrong if it’s from your heart. And if you do say something wrong, I can always ask Dick to be very dramatic with his own crying to cover any mistakes!” Y/N said softly to Tim, bringing him in for a hug.

“Thanks mom. You’ve always been there for me”

“And I always will be Timmy”

Damian:

Y/N twisted her hair as she sat in the car.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked as he drove.

“I… I guess I don’t know how to talk to Damian once we get back. After all, we got married and went on our honeymoon. And even though we got Damian’s blessing, I feel like something was… Left out, like he didn’t want to burden us…” she replied. Bruce hummed in thought. It couldn’t have been easy for Damian, to be left behind while his father had gone on his honeymoon. And even though Y/N and Damian got on pretty well, she was now in his life as a step-mother. Something that perhaps Damian had never anticipated.

“Well, speak to him when you get back. Just the two of you. I’m pretty sure that if he didn’t like me marrying you, he’d have made that known by now” Bruce suggested as they pulled up the driveway. Y/N knew Bruce was right; the issue wasn’t Damian not liking the marriage. It was something else.

“Welcome back Mr and Mrs Wayne” Alfred greeted as they stepped out the car. “Hi Alfred! You wouldn’t know where Damian is, do you?” Y/N asked. She wanted this sorted as soon as possible.

“I believe he’s in his room” Alfred responded, taking her coat from her.

“‘I’ll be back soon” Y/N said to Bruce. No doubt he’d go straight to the batcave and see how everything went during his absence. Y/N made her way up the stairs towards Damian’s room; once there, she knocked on the door.

“Enter” came the prompt and curt response. Y/N smiled to herself. She’d missed him.

“Hey, Damian” she said softly as she stepped into the room. The boy seemed quite surprised to see her. “Your father and I just got back” Y/N couldn’t help notice the slight wince the boy made when she spoke.

“Dami, what’s wrong?” She asked worriedly, sitting beside him on the bed. Damian looked like he was debating on telling her before shaking his head. “Dami…” she said softly as she reach over to hug him.

“Do you want me as your son?” He asked, his tone sharp as if forcing it out. Y/N looked at him surprised. So that had been what was bothering him.

“You’re already my son. And not just by law” she cut him off before he could point that out. “I love you as my son and I will treat you as my son. Whether you came from my womb or not has no impact on my love for you!” She assured him. Damian’s face crumpled a little, as if he wanted to cry, but no such thing happened. He simply nestled his head between her shoulder and neck.

“Thank you mother”

#bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Batmom #This was way longer than I thought #oops

[littlebundleofbolts]

Dream M!A: Experience a dream specific to any or all days of the week:

Mad Monday

LS was enjoying a nice hot lazy day on the outskirts of Iacon. No work, no rude customers. All she needed was a nice cool drink and this moment would be perfect.

“Oh no, I’m late. I’m late!”

Optics wide open, LS cranes her helm and spots a pale blue minibot running across the rust bank just opposite her. The sight itself wouldn’t be unusual if not for the decorative waistcoat and pocket-watch he was sporting, as well as the mechanical set of rabbit ears poking out of the top of his helm.

“Flicker?” She calls, finally recognising the bot. ”What’s with the weird getup?”

“I’m late. I’m late, for a very important date.” The poor minibot cries, not even so much as stopping to answer LS’ question. “No time to say hello. Goodbye. I’m late. I’m very very late!”

“Late for what?” She asks, jumping to her pedes and giving chase. “Can I help?”

For such a small bot he was very fast on his pedes, giving LS the slip down the old, abandoned subway system. Not wanting to lose sight of him, LS followed him inside one of the tunnels and crawled after him. The tunnel only got darker and tighter though until she was blindly thumbing around and fell down a sudden hole.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!!!!!”

The drop went on for eternity. LS thought she was reaching the centre of Cybertron itself when her fall slowed down and she was practically floating in mid air. In the distance she spotted soft light and landed harmlessly on her pedes in a tiny room with a low table in the very centre of the pit and a door opposite her, far too small, even for a minibot to squeeze through.

So where did The White Rabbit, eh, Flicker, go?

Making sure there is no other secret passage, LS kneels down in front of the door, debating on whether it was possible to squeeze herself through the gap. Not likely. Her hips were not that forgiving. At the end of her rope, LS finally turns her attention to the low table and notices a tiny glass phial sitting on it’s glass surface. Inside the phial was a suspiciously green liquid with a hand written note attached to the container.

~DRINK ME~

“I’m not one for normally doing what an inmate objects tell me to do, but since I can’t think of anything else to do down here.” She sniffs the contents. “It doesn’t smell like anything suspicious has been slipped into it.”

She swallows the contents in one gulp and squeaked as her entire body shifts and morphs into one eighth of its original size.

Success! Now she could get through the door.

The mini-minibot expected to find many things on the other side of the mystic door, but a bright clear sky with well cared for crystal garden and numerous paths was not one of them.

“Where in the name of the Allspark am I?” LS couldn’t think of anywhere on Cybertron that looked nearly as beautiful or as ancient as this place. Following the twisting path, she observes the many plants and wildlife around her, eventually hitting a fork in the road with multiple signs pointing in every direction imaginable, and none of them being remotely helpful in finding her distressed friend ”Where should I go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to go.”

Yelping, LS spins around and spots an orange, black and white mech lounging on a low hanging tree branch, which she was fairly positive had not been there before. He looked Cybertonian enough, but much like Flicker, had an peculiar set of beast-former like features. In his case, the slender mech was sporting a set of pointy ears and a long swishing tail. His appearance overall had a feline quality to it, not helped by his Cheshire grin.

“Trepan? How did you get-that’s not important right now. Listen, it doesn’t matter which way, as long as-”

“Then it doesn’t matter which way to go.” He interrupts.

“-as long as I get somewhere.”

“Keep walking and I assure you you’re bound to end up somewhere eventually.” He smirks down at her teasingly.

LS stares at him for a long hard moment, trying to figure out how he got here, what was up with his queer appearance, and why he was acting like he didn’t recognise her.

“Go that way and you’ll follow the path that will lead you to the Blue Queen,” Trepan points down the left trail. “Go that way you’ll end up on the front door step of the Mad Hatter.”He points to the right.

“Uh, no thank you. I don’t much feel like running into anymore mad people today.” She stares intently at the decorative signs, trying to ignore the piercing amber stare that greatly reminded her of a cat spotting a mouse. “I guess I’ll go and pay a visit to the Blue Queen.”

“You’re not exactly better off. See, she’s quite mad too.”

“Why are you pointing me in the direction of mad bots?”

“Oh you can’t help that. We’re all mad here.” He grins that twisted grin of his. “Even you.”

“What makes you think I’m mad?” She queries, servos on her hips.

“For starters, you’re talking to a Cheshire Cat and hoping to get an intellectual conversation out it.” He wiggles an optic ridge at her.

She couldn’t argue with his logic.

“I guess I’ll just pick a direction. “Did you see which way Flicker went?”

“Who?”

“Flicker, he’s about my height, light blue plating, running around in a panic?” Trepan blinks. “...he has long audials and a pocketwatch.”

“Oh, the White Rabbit. Why didn’t you say?” He chuckles at her furious expression. “Yes, he did say something about being late for a meeting with the Blue Queen. You might still be able to catch up with him.”

And with that he faded out of reality, his frame unwounding until only his dentae-filled grin remained, and that too popped out of existence.

“What was in that drink?” She scratches her helm, but chooses not to think on it for a moment longer. Fever dream or not she follows the path that will lead her to the Blue Queen, and hopefully, Flicker.

Unfortunately, following the path was easier said than done. Her path lead her through the emerald green forest, which only got thicker and thicker with every step. LS couldn’t keep track of the path and eventually stumbled through the peridot wilderness with no idea which way was north. Growing more and more frightened, LS kept walking until she bumps headfirst into a giant iron structure shaped like a mushroom.

“Who are you?” A deep rasping voice rumbles above her.

Craning her neck back, LS is paralysed by two piercing red optics boring into her own. Sitting on the giant mushroom shaped metal was a mauve and grey mech smoking a colourful substance that didn’t look like it was for recreational use. The colourful vapours drift out of the holes on either side of his face like angry predacon smoke

“Y-you first.” She stutters, taking a nervous step back.

He snorts and takes another puff of his pipe, blowing the vapour it right in her visage. “Why a caterpillar of course.”

LS had no retort to that as she swats the fragrance away. There was no mockery in in his tone, humour or even the slightest bit of jest. Just pure fact, as if this should be common knowledge for anyone with functioning optics.

“Of course you’re a caterpillar.” LS clutches at her helm in frustration. “You’re a caterpillar, Trepan’s a cat, Flicker’s a rabbit, and for all I know, I’m secretly a red panda!”

The mauve mech says nothing, letting the tiny femme’s tantrum run its course as he takes another puff of his pipe, the contents drifting over LS and smelling rather pleasant and soothing her nerves somewhat.

“Explain yourself.” He demands in a level tone. “Who are you?”

“I don’t even know if I can answer that question.” She sighs. “I haven’t felt like myself since I got here, you see.”

“I don’t see.” He frowns, as if she was being the unreasonable one.

“I can’t put it anymore clearly than that.” she says. “I survived a deadly fall, changed my size to that of an ant, seen a perfect blue sky while underground, and met strangers who are wearing my friends faces. It’s been a very confusing day, you understand.”

“Not a bit.” He admits.

“Well, it’s been a very strange day for ME.”

“Who. Are. YOU?” He demands, emphasising each word, smoke enveloping like forest fire

“I think you should tell me who you are first.” She snaps back.

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude to demand someone’s name when you haven’t even offered your own!”

“You know my designation.” He scoffs.

The weird part was. She did know. The moment he first spoke, his name had been hovering in the back of her helm. She couldn’t pinpoint where she knew this mech from or why his blunt tone did not come as a surprise to her.

“I have some advice for you.” Cyclonus says, interrupting her through process.. “Keep your temper.”

“Is that all?” She asks disappointingly.

“No.” He takes a long drag from his pipe and LS stands there impatiently as he takes an eternity to exhale. “Now hold still.”

Before LS can react, Cyclonus discards his pipe, jumps down from his perch and grabs the femme yb the back of her kibble. Effortlessly lifting her off the ground the two are airborne within seconds, soaring above the emerald forest.

“I thought you said you were a caterpillar?!” She screams, frantically grabbing onto his wrist.

“And now I’m a butterfly.” He drawls.

More like an ugly moth! But she keeps that thought to herself.

Thankfully they are not flying for long as they approach a grand, sapphire crystalline palace that could only belong to the Blue Queen. Cyclonus lands them safely in the courtyard and takes off into the sky without a backwards glance.

Walking across the open square with a beautiful energon fountain in the centre, LS goes looking for a palace guard who can escort her to the Queen’s throne room. She stays close to a maze hedge covered in the most beautiful diamond roses she has ever seen. At least, they were, until she spots a trail of them coated in dripping wet paint, leading to a frantic pair of drones carrying buckets of blue paint and spraying the contents onto the remaining roses.

“What are you doing?” She demands.

The drones cry out in terror and frantically panic, but quickly calm down when they spot the owner of the voice.

“We’re painting the roses blue.” The poor drone whispers, frantically spraying more paint on the next rose bud.

“Why? They look better this way.”

“The Queen demanded sapphire roses but we accidentally bought diamond seeds instead, and now its too late to grow a fresh batch in time!” The second drone snaps, craning his neck in case they were being watched.

“But painting them isn’t going to help. You can’t tell they’re suppose to be gems anymore.” Her words fell on deaf ears as they tried to get as many roses painted over as possible, doing a rather botched up job of it in the process. They were so absorbed in their work, none of them heard the approaching footsteps until a horrible shriek pierced through their audials.

“Whose been painting my crystal roses blue?!!”

The two drones look on in terror and shove the evidence into LS’ dumbstruck servos just as a tall, royal blue femme stands before them.

“Which one of you has been painting my roses blue?” Her murderous gaze falls on Lickety-Split, and her blue stained servos holding the paint can.

“Electron? Is that you?” LS blinks dumbfounded.

“Off with her helm!”

Definitely Electron.

“Why can’t we ever have a first meeting where you DON’T try to kill me?!” She drops the paint and makes a run for it, following the retreating drones into the maze.

“After them! I want them captured and put on trial so I can chop off their helms!” That didn’t sound like any legal procedure LS had ever seen, but she wasn’t about the correct the raging seeker thirsting for freshly spilt energon.

Unfortunately, LS was not nearly as effective in navigating the maze and was caught within klicks. A guard grabbing her by the servo each, she is hauled off the ground and dragged to the palace for an audience with the Blue Queen, just like she wanted.

“I want a lawyer!” She cries as the guard drop her on a stand inside a large throne room. The Blue Queen look very elegant on her golden throne, wearing her golden crown and golden sceptre, all decorated with the most beautiful blue gems LS had ever seen. She both regal and fearsome.

“This trespassing scum has been brought before her majesty’s court today for the severe crime of entering private property without permission and vandalising the Royal Square-”

“Objection!” LS interrupted the accuser. “That wasn’t me. I just happened to be there when the crime was taking place.”

Electron raised an accusing optic ridge and looked far from convinced.

“That is not what the two witnesses tell me.”

“What witnesses?”

Electron gestures to the side and LS is shocked to spot both Trepan and Cyclonus sitting with the jury. The Cheshire Cat gave her a friendly wave while The Caterpillar ignored her presence in favour of listening to the proceedings.

“Both witnesses were invited to my garden party today when they, and myself, caught you red handed!”

“They’re not red, they’re blue!“ She corrects, holding up her servos. “And I didn’t do anything wrong! I was dropped in your maze by him-” She pointed at ever stern looking Cyclonus. “And that was only because he-” She then pointed at the winking Trepan. “Told me the White Rabbit would be here!”

As if on cue, the large doors opened and a flustered and out of breath Flicker stumbled into the room.

“S-sorry I-I’m l-late, your majesty.” He heaves with every intake, servos on his knees.

“Hey Flicker.” LS waves in greeting and Flicker openly stares in confusion as the strange femme he met all the way back at the entrance somehow got here ahead of him. “I think I’ve proven my point. I did not intrude on your garden party as I was invited guest.”

Electron considers this for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “In that case I’ll chop off the helm of which ever mech you believe invited you as their plus one.”

Both mechs suddenly looked very concerned.

“But that still doesn’t excuse you of vandalising to my roses!” She tuts, the murderous glint returning to her optics.

“I told you, its wasn’t me!” LS repeats firmly. “Besides, from what I heard you didn’t even want them white to begin with!”

“That is not the point!” She snaps, sharp claws digging into the armrests of her expensive throne. “Unless you can name the real culprits to this crime, you have nothing to back your defence with.”

LS looks around at the audience and jury, but can’t tell the drone apart. She has no idea which two are the real culprit. Seeing her defeated look, Electron’s grin was sharper than any axe.

“This court finds you guilty. Your sentence is death by beheading!”

There was a cheer from the stands and the guards flank LS on both sides.

“Wait! You can’t do this!” She is swept off the ground and past the nervous White Rabbit. “No! Nonononononono!!!”

~~~~~

Lickety-Split let out a glass breaking scream as she tumble out of berth, the sound of her alarm clock blaring in her audials as she lies sprawled across the floor, safe in her sleeping quarters.

“THAT DOES IT! NO MORE MIDNIGHT SNACKING FOR ME!” She heaves, punching the alarm clock and slumping back on the ground again as her processor tries to organise everything that just happened.

Who even were half those bots?

#m!a: dream diary #m!a dream: mad monday #all of her partners in one drabble #and being very unhelpful #I was gonna add more #like the mad hatter and the march hare #and knave and the trial #but it just got longer and longer XD #maybe I'll do a looking glass sequel #but right now I have six more of these to do #and I want them to be a lot simplier XD

[ruby-stones-blog1]

A/N: I am very sorry for that mess of a fic. I wasn’t even sure if I would post this or even finish it. So here I am, with a shitty fic, a lot of typos and no energy. Mentions of @ariciaeast @cameronnicholls @domschreave @ladykatdempsey @princesscallieschreave . And sorry to all the people I have annoyed with the process of my fic. Enjoy.

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most beautiful of them all

My widend pupils absorb the shallow light hitting the shiny mirror infront of me. The last bits of sunshine are hitting my exposed neck, spreading warmth through my cold body. Pleasurable I close my tired eyes and softly massage my eyelids with my gentle ringfingers. The maids shuffeling around, cleaning my complexion and my gorgeous surroundings are turning into a comfortable background noise. You know what you’ve got to do Ruby. I mentally prepar myself for the upcoming evening, vividly picturing the stack of endless energy and sugar drinks hidden in the back of my drawer. “Do you have any plans for the ball tomorrow, Lady Ruby?”, Aurelia, the very outspoken maid, asks me while sofly brushing trough my curly hair. “No, not really. I don’t know for how long I’ll even stay at the ball, but I know for sure that I’ll stay away from our lovely prince”, I announce with a heavy voice, playing with the hem of my light pink night gown. “You are still upset about the Interview, I see (…)”, Aurelia adds. Even though I can’t see her face in the mirror, I am certain that her eyebrows are narrowed as always when she is speaking in a thoughtful tone like this, creating a slight crease. “Lady Ruby, I am pretty sure that he doesn’t think any less of you than the other girls”, Luna comments while gracefully preparing my bed, tucking a brown strand of hair behind her ear. “Mhh (…) I am not quiet sure about that”, I mumble slightly before getting up from my seat. “But I don’t want to think about that now, I need my beauty sleep. Thank you ladies for your astonishing work”, I thank my maids with a genuine smile, seeing a little twinkle in Radia’s quiet eyes. “Are you sure you don’t need us anymore?”, Radia speaks up, gazing around my room looking for any flaw in our surroundings. “I am very sure my dear. Now hush, hush, you need to sleep as well!”, I laugh quietly settling down onto my bright duvet. “Good night Lady Ruby”, the girl announce in a lovely choir and with a last worried smile they leave the room, finally giving me some time to breath. Don’t get me wrong, the girls are lovely and definitely are much nicer and way kinder than I expected them to be, but constant company is still a concept foreign to me.

I crawl across my bed, slowly opening the bedside drawer and free my liquid courage from it’s dark prison. Carefully I tuck the colourful cans into a small backpack of mine, before grabbing a light pink coat from the game next to my wardrobe, matching my night gown. Doubts still spinning trough my busy head, I open the door to the hallway and silently close it behind me. Trying to eliminate as many noises as possible, I tip toe trough the hallway, letting my finger graze the rare wallpaper passionately awaiting the bumps gracing my soft finger tips. Still debating whether I should turn around or not, a dark brown heavy door with a golden sign reading the name ‘Lady Katharine’ comes up in my vision. With one step forward and one to my right I reach the door and let my shaking fist collide with it. A few seconds later I can make out a muted groan and something along the lines: “Who is it? I hope you realise it’s the middle of the night…” Ignoring the comment of her, I pock my head trough the door and greet her with a nervous smile: “Euhmmm… Hi Kat!”

She grunts and rubs her eyes, still lying in her warm bed: “What do you want?” You can still run away Ruby, you don’t have to do this. Kat will probably just assume she had a fever dream of some sort, it’s not to late. “I euhhmm… wanted to ask a favour of you”, I address my sudden appearance to her, still fighting the urge to run away. she slowly gets out of her bed, making her way towards my nervous figure: “What’s so important that can’t wait for tomorrow?” It takes a lot of strength to completely open the heavy doot, resisting the good sense which took control over my entire body. “A tattoo?” I blurt out in a high pitched voice, crossing my still shaking legs, hearing my bones kneecaps collide. “I heard you are up for everything.. So I figured why not ask you?”, I add trying to sound convincing.

Suspiosly raising an eyebrow, she states: “Well…”, stops herself with a quiet sigh and goes through her shiny hair, “Fine, what do you have planned little Stone?” No backing out anymore. “You know Dom said I wasn’t having enough fun and I realised I got the chance of a life time and can finally do whatever I want, so why not get a tattoo? I thought about getting a wolf with a quote or something like this”, I widely grin with trembling lips, playing with my raw hands, trying to calm myself down a bit. She won’t bite you, Rubes. She simply frowns at my statement, disfiguring the brunettes otherwise regal complexion, making me wonder where I went wrong. “You don’t need to change because he says so… Is this what you really want? It’s not my problem but, you know”, she states clearly worried. I always thought Kat was an ice-cold queen, never deeply involved with anyone. Nodding my pulsing head I state with fake confidence leaking out of my throat: “I do. He just helped realise that I have got chance to change for better now. That’s what I wanna do. And come on tattoos are badass.” My failed attempted at finger guns didn’t make me seem so badass anymore (…). With a small scoffs she finally gives in: “Fine by me. Give me a sec.”

She blindly grabs some random clothes from a hanger next to her mirror and makes her way to the ginormous bathroom. Innocently I let my gaze wander across the room, viewing the few truffles she brought from home and study the two paintings littering the floor to dry. The light blue walls and decorations remind me of the sweet cold ocean, just the fainted memory of the salty air gracing my body sends a slight shiver down my spine. “Okay, let’s get you in trouble”, Kat suddenly announces with a joyful grin lingering on her face, making me jump a bit. Just as the heavy door is opened by Kat, realization enters my body and excitement numbs my brain. I will actually get a tattoo tonight, accompanied with the biggest trouble maker I know. We could become trouble budys!

Norepinephrine and endophrins are floating my bloodstream, making my body jump nearly as high as I hit launching pad. “Follow me. But if you don’t keep your mouth shut, we’ll both be dead, so don’t try to chitchat with me, got it?”, she states in all seriousness, making me nod in a polite manner. After we managed to leave Castle which has more similarities to a labyrinth than any other architecture, we slowly dive into the electrifying night life of Angeles, with a can of a sugary substance near my lips.

“Can I talk again?”, I plea with wide eyes and a pouty lip. Kat simply sighs and adds a “If you have to so badly.” “Sooo how do you know where the nearest not so crappy tattoo shop is?”, I ask out of curiosity, strolling beside to her, enjoying the exhilarating view. “I don’t. As soon as we reach the part of town where the nightlife is, I’ll ask someone”, she shrugs her shoulders while explaining, “Just need to ask the right kind of people.” “Ohh .. okay. As long as we don’t end up in the gutter, I am fine”, I state while admiring the nature around me, listening to the birds chirping lullabys to their children.

“So do you have tattoos?”, I randomly ask a question which appeared out of nowhere. “Three”, she answers while nodding her head, facing the buildings at the sidewalk to our left and closely watching the people around us. “Wow. That’s impressive. When did you get them?” Isolated faces appear in my vision, every single one with it’s own unique features and stories. “They’re not that big, so I had two small ones on my feet done at the same time like a year ago? And the last one seven months ago or something.”

“Did it hurt a lot?”, I ask a bit nervous, realising I haven’t thought about that before. While awaiting her answer, I nibble the tops of my nails, running my perfectly done manicure. The brunette next to me simply raises an eyebrow, still watching the crowd and answering in a cool tone: “Not that much, depends on the place…Are you still sure about this?”, she takes a short pause, deeply inhales and slowly faces me, “This is all fun and game but if you start crying, I swear-”

“I promise I won’t cry”, I state before remembering the unpleasant incident after the interview, “I’ve heard that upper back tattoos aren’t as painful as other ones.” Viewing the sidewalk infront of her, she states: “Hmm, well you do ballet, don’t you? Nothing can hurt more than walking on those awful ballet shoes.” She wrinkles her nose, probably shivering at the thought of dancing on pointé herself which makes me laugh a bit. “Yeah that’s true. My feets are really thankful for the break the selection is giving them”, jokingly state trying to forget about the possible pain which will await me. But maybe Kat it’s right and it won’t hurt more then falling a few feet down from the bars. “Lucky you”, she states before spoting someone who intruges her in someway, “Now, wait here, don’t move. Don’t do anything more stupid than this whole idea either.” she turns around and stalks towards a random man with a lot of tattoos and trained muscles shaping his figure.

As soon as she opens her mouth her body starts to relax and shifts in a more comfortable position. A distant smile is appearing on her face and her entire being morphes into someone, something else before returning to me and the real world. “You coming little Stone? I think Selected get a discount”, she shouts across the dark street, a little smirk gracing her smug face. Excitement is drowning my body with stimulations, jumping in the air and tasting the sweet air around me. A ring bells as we enter the shop, loud music is pulsing through my veins, and bright lights are illuminate the room. Kat strolls over the counter, leaning her body against it and whispers with the good looking man infront of her. “Last chance to back up”, she simply states, silently pleading my conscious mind to leave this place. My head is shaking, negating her silent plea: “I want that, don’t worry Kitty. I am all grown up.” Her face hardens again, annoyance leaking out of her harsh words: “No you’re not. And don’t call me that, we’re not friends”, she simply nods to the guy at the counter and continues her instructions, hands in her hips and a straight face for everyone else to see, “Now go tell that guy what you want to get inked in your skin forever, and get it over with.”

The first thing I notice is the unbearable pain in my back, spreading from my upper back to my head and spine. A moan rips through the mid day air, as fire is burning my skin. My eyes fly open in a hurry, fingers are caressing the burning flesh on my back. I sit up straight, trying to eliminate the pain which is caused by rubbing my back against the silky beedsheets. The events of the past night still lingering in my head, I rub my eyes and pay the bathroom a short visit, wondering where my maids are. “Radia?”, I shout trough the bathroom door. No answer. Still a bit sleepdrunk and drowsy I toddle trough the bright hallway searching for my lost maids, the midday sun shining through the large windows, illuminating the floor.

“Hey Rubes, look, theres a ball”, a familiar voice makes their way towards me. In the distance I can make out a stunningly beautiful redhead, embellished with glamours clothing and makeup. “Wait what?”, I wonder a bit dumbfounds, still walking down the glimmering hallway in my now dirty night gown. “The next challenge, weirdo”, she states, loudly laughing as a few strands of her fall down from her lovely updo. “Wait so there will be an actual ball? With ballgowns and music and a prince and stuff like that?” “Yep, exactly like that” “Oh shit”, I swear, nearly running to my room, “so when does it start?” She flinches with her fingers, her eyes searching for a clock in the distance. “Two-ish hours? Maybe three? You better get ready quick, its taken my maids an hour just for hair”, she laughs out loud while touching a curly strand of hair, framing her face. “Holy crap. Thanks fin!”, I declare while blowing her a sweet kiss and dart away towards my door like a scared deer.

As I turn the knob I can hear my maids worriedly chatting about my disappearance. “Ohh Lady Ruby, we thought you would never wake up!”, Aurelia states pulling me into a warm hug, slowly hissing at her touch. “Just like Sleeping Beauty”, I hear Luna giggle from the other side of the room. “But now hush-hush, we need to get you ready for the ball my dear”, Aurelia exclaims, pushing me onto a seat while already working on detangling my hair. “Ohh Radia would you be so kind to bring me some painkillers? My head is being awful today”, I remember to ask after seeing the glass of water next to breakfast on the wooden table, testing my lying skills. The pain in my back gets more bearable as plenty of hair is teased, makeup hides my flawed figure and time passes. My father’s finest jewelry is added to my glowing complexion and a mixture of sugary drinks and heavy painkillers makes me radiant as the sun from the inside.

A strange liquor with a heavy taste makes it’s way down my throat, burning of the mucilaginous skin, numbing every part of it. A bitter taste clings to the back of my throat, making me wonder why I consume this liquid in the first place. My gaze wandere around the room, gracing the dancing beauties, looking for familiar faces. Just minutes ago I was among the crowd, full of life, dancing along the guests and guards. I was ripped out of my blooming state of mind as I saw a familiar face, getting involved in a strange conversation, laughing about the fear of horses and nature fetishes. In the distance I can still make out her regal complexion, gleaming full of grace, her whole being radiating royalty, but in a different way than her brother. I take another sip of the burning red liquid and turn my back to the celebrating crowd, drunk on happiness and full of energy, searching for a cold lonely place. With soft steps I walk onto an abandoned balcony, soothing cold wind hitting my bare skin and soft candle light is illuminating the dark night. Soft waves complete the otherwise resting skyline, occupying my restless mind and soul.

A soft “hello?” disrupts my never ending train of thoughts. With a silent “Huuhh?” I turn around, towards the source of the sudden sound. “Ohh, hello Lady Aricia”, I greet the incomer, studying her calm presence. “Hello Lady Ruby! What are you doing out here?”, she strolls over, a simple smile playing around her soft lips, settling down beside me and letting the wind pass through her silky blonde hair. “Ohh I just needed a break, giving my body some time to sober up a bit, but I don’t know if that will work”, I half truthfully state while holding up my alcoholic beverage. “Ahh, i see”, she laughs a bit while continuing her statement, “the first step of sobering up is probably to get rid of the alcohol.” Well she is not completely wrong. “Yep, that’s why I need to finish this”, I affirm before emptying the glass full of treacherous alcohol, whose name I can’t even pronounce, placing it gently on the railing. “So why did you leave that electrifying party my dear?”, I ask of curiosity, genuinely trying to engage into a conversation

. She simply shrugs with her shiny shoulders before voicing her reason: “Well, my feet started hurting from all the dancing, and i was having some conflicting emotions about stuff, but mostly, I just wanted to stop listening to that god awful music.” A melodic laugh disrupts the silent nightsky and is being carried away by the gentle wind into the endless darkness, before my soft voice can join her melody. “It’s not that bad.” “Well when youve been dancing and listening to it all night it gets a bit repetitive”, she declares while studying my expression incredelously, wondering what went wrong in my pretty little head. “Touché. So any interesting thoughts about our dear prince so far?”, I ask, still testing my social skills. “He’s alright, he’s nice and has a good taste in music, except he doesnt like classical. But i can probably convince him that classical is wonderful by the end of the selection. how about you, my dear”, she dissolute recounts her first impression of the prince, while simply winking at me, without me fully grasping her reason behind it. “He seems very nice indeed, but I am not so confident about my time here as you are”, I admit, trying to finally get out of my shell. “Aww, why?”, Aricia simply wonders, a frown gracing her delicate skin. “Apparently I am very boring. I talked to Alina earlier and she mentioned that I shouldn’t really worry about that, but I don’t think he seems very interested, in me at least”, realising I said too much, I desperately look at my glass, trying to find the answer to all my problems in it’s reflecting form, “Gosh I wished I had more of that sweet liquor.”

“I don’t even know I am talking to you about this”, I slightly shake my head while depicting my thoughts. “Hey hey hey”, she softly acknowledges my trouble, placing a hand on my bare shoulder, “If you need someone to talk to, i’m here. You should never hold your feelings inside because they will only destroy you.” Her blue eyes are full of compassion as I give her a sad but genuine smile. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. I am just so used to barely talking to anyone ever and never even talking about my feelings and thoughts, that it feels so wrong speaking up about anything now”, I open up trying not to worry about possible consequences I might face. I don’t know if the alcohol is loosening my tongue or if her calming aura stirs up something familiar and trusting deep down inside and let’s me trust her more. “Yeah, it’ll take some time, but it’ll all work out at the end. So, how was your life back home? Where are you from?”, she tries to ease the conversation, changing the topic as she senses my discomfort and works around it.

“I am from a very small town in Dakota, with a tiny gymnastic club and ballet school which practically represents the entire social contact I received until now. What else is there to say? (…) Well my parents are wealthy jewelers, I was born a 4, trained to become a 2 and am an only child.” “Oh, that sounds cool! did you like your life in Dakota?” Haah, as if. “It mostly sucked, if it didn’t I wouldn’t have been so desperate to get away. Most people I know aren’t very nice, including my parents.” Alcohol is now pumping trough my veins, spitting out words I’ve never dared to voice before. I barely her hear answer, the blood so loud, pulsing near my heart. “So apparently both of us have awful parents, great”, I laugh a bit bitter at this irony,why do I only connect with people who are wearing a similar pain to mine, “You know I came hear to live life at it’s fullest but now that i tasted it, fear is consuming me. I always worry that I don’t have enough time left to experience everything I want to. And there is always my mother’s treat in the back of my head”, I thoughtfully proclaim which devolves into an ongoing conversation about our life after the selection with a promise of friendship and companionship, living together and leaving our toxic families behind. But how long will she stay? Will she leave when she gets to know my darker side, the ugly truth and the hurtful words I can so casually voice. Her gaze wanders across the moon, counting the stars and listening to soft music of the waves.

“So have you got any exciting plans for the time you are still here?”, I ask watching the nightsky as well, wondering if God is watching right now. “Well, not really, I just want to enjoy all the experiences, and hope that everything works out well”, she sighs before adding a quiet “You?”. “I’ll just enjoy making my own choices and trying not to think about how stupid they are.” Remembering the events of last night, I try not to giggle, realising it was an obviously stupid decision. “Yeah, you should let loose and have fun!!”

“I am trying very hard, okay?”, a genuine laugh originates from my slim belly, making me feel all warm inside, “My next goal actually is to finally taste some chocolate cake.” Her smile still hasn’t left her face and makes her glow in the soft candle light, filling the night sky full of genuine happiness: “Ah, we should go to the kitchen one day together and try the cake!” “We definitely should. I need someone to protect me so I won’t die of a sugar overdose”, another giggle escapes my blood red lips and makes me seem drunk on happiness. Aricia’s melodic laugher combines with mine a second time before she breathy voices her approbation: “Same Ruby same!”

“We’ll probably die together. Just like Romeo and Juliet.” What a tragic ending, I can already see the headlines - ‘Selected die of sugar overdose - Is chocolate cake really that dangerous?’ “Wow, Ruby, very pessimistic”, a small sigh escapes lips as her endless laugher are dying down, “is there anything that you really want to do with your life?” “To fall in love?” I sigh as well, realising to late how our body language is adapting to each other, “I would also love to finally make friends. I don’t know I am good at that and if I’ll be able to put my trust into people but I really want to try that. And you Aricia?”

“Thats wonderful, but when the right person comes across, you’ll know to trust them. I also want to fall in love with someone who loves me back, and didn’t just settle for me because they couldnt get someone else, you know? My dad chose himself over me, my mom chose my dads best friend instead of me and my dad, so i want someone to choose me first instead of something or someone else.”

“That’s very understandable Lady Aricia. I am very certain that there is a person out there so will choose you, no matter what. And I really hope you will find this person very soon”, I smile lightly, hoping for the best. Her genuine smile making it worth it, letting her into my heart so soon. “Thanks Ruby. You too!”

“Shall we go back? It’s getting a bit chilly out here.”

The warmth of the room hits my chilly back, loud music still floating the room, as I make my way to the generous buffet, filling up my empty stomach again with promising liquor. The world starts spinning again, and dizziness is clouding my head as I gulp down one pain killer after another, trying to cool that burning flesh of mine. Be bold, Sera’s forceful voice halls through my chaotic head, as I spin trough the dance floor from guard to guard presenting each one the same simple smile, nothing more. I behold his handsome face on the side, as he tries to vanish in the distance from his own celebration. With alcohol injected confidence I stumble towards him, trying to regain my composure. Nervously awaiting to see his beautiful face again, being surrounded by his heavy scent.

“Are you having a good evening your hotness?”, I ask delightful, trying not to giggle over my own choice of words. He simply turns around and raises an eyebrow, scanning my messy figure. “Are you feeling okay, Ruby?”

“I am felling better than ever”, I state before taking another sip from that sinful liquid. His eyes darken at my comment, making his face look much more harder and edged. “Not another”, he comments with a groan. “Stop complaining and just dance with me”, I desperately try to lighten the mood, not reacting to his comment. I simply drag him across the dancefloor, waiting for him to get into position while closely watching the loud and messy crowd. The heavy classical music is calming me down, relaxing my stiff muscles and enlightens my mood. He carefully takes my hand, leading the way as I adapt to his way of movement, flowing with the music. My feet are dancing on their own, walking on clouds as I float trough the night sky. Everything is forgotten, just the music, (…) and him. “So where did you learn how to dance that well mister?”, I ask with a light chuckle.“I’ve had teachers coaching me since I was little. To prepare me for balls and stuff like this.”

“So you got a long history of dancing, nice”, I twirl around letting my dress flow in the air, flattering my slim body even more, “Assuming you only learned formal dances, would you try out any other type or are you not really fond of dancing at all?” His attention drifts away, watching the people behind me: “Not really fond of it. I just do it when I have to. Like now.” I puff a bit, releasing sickly sweet air, as I roll my eyes at his lack of enthusiasm: “You could at least pretend to enjoy it, for your own sake.”

“I’m just worried you’re about to pass out at any second, or throw up on my shoes. I know what too many of these drinks can do to a person”, his eyes now focus on me and my sickly drunk figure. “Don’t worry, if I have to puke I will try not to ruin your expensive shoes, my Highness”, I try to lighten the mood with a soft giggle of mine which passes my slightly open lips. “Still, I think you’d better rest before you say something you’ll regret later”, he states, worry is gracing his features, still searching for something which isn’t me. “Ohh no, but I wanted to tell you secret of mine.” Ruby, you are drunk. Stop it. “Ooh, definitely not. Lets wait for that for when you’re sober”, his hand rests with a gentle touch on my waist as he leads me to an empty chair near the golden gate to the gardens. The wings are slightly open and fresh wind is slowly replacing the warm and stuffy air inside, carrying the sweetly calming scents of the colourful blooming flowers from the garden. “Buuttt -”, I start to argue with my last bit of liquid confidence, slumping down onto the selected chair, “I need someone to share the fun with Kat and I had last night. Gosh the people in Angeles are so nice.” His eyes dart away, focusing on someone else.

“Ok. Here’s some water. Don’t die. I have to go now, okay?” His soft voice consumes my mind, combining with the alcohol still flowing through my blood, making me feel numb inside. “Don’t leave me! I even wanted to show you the tattoo I’ve got last night -”, I start, not even bothering to end the sentence, letting it die in the cold night sky. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking. Whatever. I don’t have time for this right now.” He just walks away, his body finally relaxing. His soft voice in contrast to his actions. The water in my cup is shaking, slowly creating small waves, trapped in a never ending movement. “My tattoo is way too cool for him anyway…”

#ball #rubystones #kill me #4.8k #first challenge