#angst central lads

[blueraineshadows]

Brothers Part 6

Garreth Weasley 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️ Oscar Weasley

A love rivalry between two Weasley brothers. Oscar Weasley is an OC created by @eternalremorse and used with her permission

Chapter Master List

Triggers: NSFW 🔞 angst, violence, murder

Chapter Six - Not So Innocent

Huge pumpkins and autumnal decorations had begun to appear around the castle in the build-up to Samhain. MC walked the corridors with a smile, enjoying the atmosphere as she headed for the library. She did love autumn.

As she crossed Central Hall, a parchment fluttered through the air near her head, one of many floating about and being snatched at by students. It was causing quite the stir, and MC found herself curious. She caught hers and looked down at the advertisement, a colourful display to entice one into the village of Hogsmeade for festivities at the end of the month. It made her lips curve upwards.

MC tucked the leaflet into her pocket with the intention of discussing it with her friends. A day out in Hogsmeade sounded rather fun, and it might be just what Poppy needed. She had been rather quiet the last few days, and MC hadn't been able to pry out of her what the trouble was.

The library was much more subdued than Central Hall, students quiet as they read and studied. MC made her way to the usual spot, Sebastian and Garreth already at their preferred table, heads bent over a piece of parchment that Sebastian was writing on.

"What are you two scheming now?" She teased. She pulled out a chair and joined them, noting the open text books that were being ignored.

They both lifted their gazes up to her, the pair of them with matching mischievous smiles on their faces.

"Garreth's new potion idea," Sebastian said. "I think we are on to a winner with this one."

MC didn't know whether to smile or wince as she looked at them both, her face twisting into a mixture of both expressions.

"Since when do you help Garreth with his potions?"

The lads shared a look, both of them looking far too happy with themselves as MC got her books out.

"This could be mutually beneficial," Garreth said. "I get to experiment with the brew, and widen my potential."

"And if it works, then I can read all night without getting tired," Sebastian added.

"Oh, is this that energy boosting drink you mentioned?" MC asked.

Garreth nodded and turned the parchment so she could see their notes, the inky scrawl rather messy in their efforts to get things down quickly. Garreth's eyes were alight with excitement as he quickly explained how it might work. MC couldn't help but catch some of this enthusiasm.

"So, when do you start brewing?" She asked.

"That's the problem," Sebastian sighed. "We need some rare ingredients that cost too much coin to buy. We need to figure out another way to get hold of them."

MC scanned their list on the parchment, her eyes pausing on unicorn hair. "Hmm, yes, unicorn hair is quite difficult to get hold of."

"Which makes it pricey," Garreth sighed. He pushed his hand through his mop of hair. "I might have to run some errands for old Pippin, he might help me out with a discount."

MC bit her lip and looked at the two of them, thinking of the little herd of unicorns that were hidden in the Forbidden Forest, safely guarded by enchantments and checked on by the centaur community. Her and Poppy had been to visit them the other week, eager to see how they were faring after the summer break.

Poppy was fiercely protective of their location, and MC kept quiet as she mulled over the possibility of gathering some hair for this potion experiment. Perhaps she ought to speak to Poppy first before making any promises.

"I'm sure something can be figured out," she said. She pulled out the leaflet from her robe pocket and held it up.

"Have you seen this? Shall we go?"

Sebastian took the leaflet and Garreth nodded. "I'm up for that," he said. "We can all go together, if you want."

"Are we taking dates?" Sebastian asked.

Garreth's eyes met MC's, a slight pink staining his cheeks as he shrugged. "I wasn't planning to."

Sebastian rubbed his fingers thoughtfully over his mouth and he gave MC a quizzical look. "Do you think Poppy would say yes if I asked her?"

MC sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? Of course she will. Just ask her out already."

"What about this trouble with her parents?" He asked.

MC felt her shoulders slump. Poppy's parents were in Scotland, and it wasn't to visit with their daughter. They were part of a poaching ring, and being here could only mean one thing, and that was to hunt. Poppy's grandmother had sent an owl to warn Poppy, and now Poppy was fearful for all the rare beasts in the area. MC knew that Poppy would love to scoop every single one of them up and hold them safe, but that just wasn't feasible. It wouldn't stop her from trying, though.

"Perhaps a day out would be the ideal distraction for her," MC said. "I know she would like to go with you. Just ask her."

"Hmm, maybe I will."

"If she does say no, you can always take Ominis as your date," Garreth said with a grin.

Sebastian chuckled. "Oh, he is coming regardless, even if I have to drag him there," he said. He pointed at MC. "And you can help me convince him it will be fun. Just promise to keep the yucky snogging to a minimum with Oscar."

MC blushed, her eyes meeting Garreth's again, his own gaze immediately dropping to the parchment as he fiddled with the edges. Not for the first time, MC wondered what he was thinking. Ever since he had caressed her cheek at the party, MC had been more aware of his glances, the way he blushed or hid his gaze from her. He had called her the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, and she wondered if he even remembered saying it. They had not spoken of it, and MC dared not for fear of what he might say.

Shifting in her seat, MC gave Sebastian a slight frown. "I don't know if Oscar is coming yet. I've not had chance to ask him."

"Yes, well, if he does come along, save the snogging for afterwards," Sebastian said.

"Perhaps you should focus more attention on your own snogging opportunities rather than worry about mine," MC said, folding her arms and giving him a stern look. "I've a good mind to grab Oscar and give him a big snog right in front of you."

Sebastian grimaced. "Urgh, please don't. You'll put me off my Butterbear slobbering over a Gryffindor like that. No offence, Garreth."

Garreth shrugged and tucked his potion notes into his journal. "None taken, although that's enough snogging talk for one day. I'm going to head off. I'll catch up with you later."

As Garreth gathered his things and headed out of the library with a quick wave, MC watched him go, a distracted look on her face.

"What's that look for?" Sebastian asked. He tickled the end of his quill under her chin, and she turned back to him with a small smile.

"Maybe we should help Garreth find a date for the festival," she said thoughtfully. "I think he felt a bit left out."

Sebastian glanced after Garreth, brow furrowed. "Hmm, but who? I hope he doesn't take Trixie up on her offer. I have warned him to stay clear of that one."

MC felt her stomach tighten. "What offer?"

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. "She is after Garreth, even more so now that Oscar has his mitts all over you. She's a bitch, but she is a beautiful one, and it isn't easy for a man to turn down something like that when it's being offered up on a plate."

MC felt her stomach twist further, and she felt a bit sick. The thought of Trixie's hands on Garreth bothered her as much as the thought of Oscar being with her. It was silly. She hadn't been with Oscar then, and Garreth was just a friend, and yet MC felt something hot and twisted claw at her insides.

"Does the girl have no shame?" She muttered, her frown deepening.

"From what I hear in the Quidditch changing rooms, no, she does not," Sebastian said. He eyed MC, his hand reaching for hers across the table top. He took hold of it, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, and she lifted her eyes to his. His gaze was soft, concerned.

"Do me a favour, MC," he said quietly. "I know you like him, but don't let Oscar change you. Don't become like those girls that hang around outside the Quidditch block. That's not who you are. I know who you are, and I don't want to hear them talking about you the way they talk about Trixie."

MC swallowed hard, the backs of her eyes burning a little at his words. It still amazed her how he managed to just see her, to be someone who was there for her in ways that nobody else had ever been. Her own concerns about fitting in with Oscar's friends had not been something she spoke about, a worry she had kept buried, and yet Sebastian had voiced a similar thing in his own protective way. She was still his charge, no matter how much time had passed since the day he had jested about her being such a thing.

She squeezed his hand. "I'm still me, Seb," she whispered. "I won't change. I promise."

He gave her a long look before nodding, releasing her hand but keeping his fingers over hers. He lowered his voice even more, leaning as far forward as he could, his brown eyes serious, intense.

"Good. I made you a promise to stop using Unforgivables, and I don't want to have to break that promise in defence of your honour. Because I would, MC. For you, I would."

And she didn't doubt it.

....*....

As soon as a crisp, sunny day came around, the students were keen to get outside for some fresh air. Oscar practised Quidditch in most weather, always best to be able to cope with whatever nature threw at you, because a simple thing like the weather wasn't enough to put a stop to a match. However, there was something really invigorating about flying and getting a good workout under the sun.

His cheeks stung from the cold, but his muscles were pleasantly warm as he touched down onto the pitch after a fierce practise session. As he made his way towards the changing block, he spotted MC waiting for him, slightly apart from the rest of the group, but there nonetheless.

He felt his spirits lift even higher as he gave her a wave. The breeze lifted loose strands of her hair across her smiling face, those gorgeous eyes pulling him in and making him forget about everyone else as he drew closer. He didn't think he would ever get tired of looking at her.

He knew she could be shy about public displays of affection, and he restrained himself, resisting the urge to wrap her up in his arms. So, it was a pleasant surprise when she stepped forward and slid her arms about his waist, pressing her head against him in a hug of greeting. It was soft, a tentative squeeze, but he instantly returned it, swallowing her up and holding her tight, savouring the softness of her and the delicate floral scent that wafted from her.

"This is the kind of greeting a man could get used to," he murmured into her hair. "You feel amazing."

She looked up at him, cheeks tinged with pink and her smile shy. "I missed you."

It had been a busy few days with school and Quidditch. MC had spent time with her Slytherin friends and took part in Crossed Wands, and their alone time had been sacrificed as a result. He had missed her too, more than he had expected to, and it felt good to know she had felt the same.

He led her further away from the others and tugged free his gloves so he could feel her skin when he touched her face. "I missed you too. Will you wait while I change? We can spend some time together."

She nodded, her smile almost teasing as she went up onto tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Don't take too long."

A surge of warmth swept through him, the ache for her sweet and hot at the touch of her lips. He promised to be swift and hurried off to take the fastest shower of his life, pulling on his clothes and quickly raking his fingers through his hair as he dashed for the door.

"Looks like Weasley is on a promise," Isaac laughed. The lads all began whooping and whistling as Oscar grinned and flicked his middle finger up at them, hurrying out into the chilly October air to meet with MC.

....*....

The urge to see Oscar had plagued MC's thoughts all morning throughout her classes. She needed to see his face and hear his voice, put her hands on him as something solid and real to ease the guilt that hung over her shoulders.

She had woken up flustered and hot, her dreams a hazy mix of hands and lips against her skin. However, the owner of these hands had not been Oscar. Shame had flooded her, had made her pull the blankets up over her head as though anyone who looked at her would know what her mind had conjured in the depths of sleep.

Last night, she had dreamed of Garreth. Garreth's hands touching skin usually hidden under her clothes, his lips teasing where they had no right to be, and her body responded with waves of heat so strong, a throbbing tingle still ached between her thighs when she awoke.

Trying to forget had been difficult, especially when she'd had to face the object of her dream in potions after lunch. Every smile he gave her made her cheeks burn, and she hurried from the class once it was done, her guilt washing over her as she decided to go and find Oscar. Hoping that by seeing him, it would wash away the images that kept sneaking into her thoughts.

Not even Poppy's worries had been able to distract MC today, and they were big worries indeed. Her fellow Hufflepuff was on edge over the worry about her parents being close by. MC had tried to reassure her but understood that this was not an easy situation.

As Oscar had approached her across the Quidditch pitch, her hands had reached for him, and she had pressed herself against his warmth, trying to erase the lingering effects of her dream. Enveloped in his scent, the strength of his arms holding her tight, MC had pushed against her guilt. She was with Oscar, she had chosen him. He was real, and those images of Garreth weren't. They were just dreams.

Making the most of the finer weather, they walked hand in hand to the lake, Oscar's hair damp and ruffled from his shower. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, beautiful streaks of orange and pink colouring the clouds behind the mountains, the temperature dropping as the shadows lengthened. MC moved closer towards Oscar, and he looked down at her, a smile teasing his lips.

"Are you cold?" He asked. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm about her, holding her against him. "I must say, I like this cuddly side of you."

MC snuggled in, her hand taking hold of his robe at his chest as they walked. "I'm just making the most of this time before we have to go back for dinner."

"Is that so?" He said, a grin spreading across his face as he glanced ahead and behind to see if anyone was watching. "Come on."

MC let him lead her into the trees, the shadows here darker and concealing as he backed her up against a trunk, lips seeking hers for a kiss. MC responded immediately, her hands sliding up to his neck, lips parting eagerly. Excitement bloomed in her chest, the warmth of his mouth welcome against the chill in the air.

What better way to wipe away the hazy images of dreams than to replace them with real life memories?

The slide of his tongue against hers stoked the flickers of fire within. The ache she had suppressed upon waking this morning was nudged into life, and she pressed herself against him, moaning softly into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his hands on her face, his blue eyes searching hers. "Wow. I should make you miss me more often," he teased.

"No, don't do that," she said, shaking her head. She tugged him even closer. "Don't stop."

Their mouths met again, harder, the kiss deepening until both of them were trying to catch their breaths. Oscar's hands moved to her waist, sliding over her hips and back up, his knee sliding between her thighs as he pressed his pelvis against hers.

MC felt the ache between her thighs sharpen, her body calling out to his with a hunger that stole her breath. Her hands shook with it, this bold desire that swirled against her innocent nerves. She had no idea what to do with it, only that it felt good. It was real.

As Oscar's mouth moved to her neck, she slid her fingers into his damp hair, the strands cold but so soft. The heat of his kiss seared her skin, his hand tugging free the Gryffindor scarf she wore for him to expose more of her flesh. She let him, abandoning her shyness under the cover of the trees.

Then, he gripped her hips, holding her against him, his pelvis moving against her in a grind that left her gasping. She could feel it, the hardness of him, his desire for her, raw and very real. It rested against her hip, exotic and tempting. A thrill shot through her, fear and excitement, a curiosity that had her own hips rolling to meet his. A low moan left his mouth, his breath hot and fast at her throat.

"Gods, you drive me crazy." His voice was strained and breathless, low and thick with his need.

MC felt every thump of her heartbeat as his fingers dug into her backside, holding her tight against him, the rock of their hips scandalous. Every harsh breath, every grind of his hips, it sent her pulse to new levels, a haze descending over conscious thought as she lost herself in him.

She tugged at his hair, guiding his face up to hers so that she could kiss him again, mouths tangling in a messy kiss. The shadows had deepened, and her boldness increased, her lips moving to explore his cheeks, his nose, she tasted along his jaw, and finally, his neck. The scent of his soap filled her, combined with his own male scent as she licked, sucked and kissed.

She had never heard a man make such noises before. It surprised her how much it fanned the flames of her own lust, and she sucked at his skin even harder. She wanted to hear him make those sounds again as he continued to grind his arousal against her.

"Fuck, MC... " He was panting, gently trying to hold her back. "We need to stop."

"Why?" She whispered.

He held her face, halting his movements but still pressing her into the tree, his forehead leaning against hers. Their quickened breaths mingled, steaming in the rapidly cooling night air.

"Believe me, I don't want to," he said. "But we have to, before we go too far. I don't want to do this with you out here against a tree, not like this."

Slowly, realisation began to settle, the haze clearing a little as the quiet sounds of night filled her ears. The soft rustle of the turning leaves, the nearby wash of the lake, the odd scurry of an animal in the undergrowth. She met his gaze and could see the heat in his eyes despite the now near dark, and she nodded.

"You're right," she said, softly, her cheeks warm but in a pleasant way. She smiled, eyes curious. "Where would you like to do this kind of thing?"

His eyes widened. "I didn't think you were ready?"

"Well, no, not completely. Not for... you know," she said. She dipped her gaze, an awkward chuckle escaping her. "But, I can't deny how you make me feel. What just happened... it felt... good."

He smiled, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eyes intense on hers. "Really? Does that mean... what are you saying?"

She took a steadying breath. "I'm saying that I wouldn't mind spending more time alone with you. Like this."

Just saying the words, releasing them and the implications she had intended, made her heart pound harder in anticipation. Perhaps her dream had been telling her that she was ready. It was just confused who was supposed to be doing it.

At least, she thought so. What else could it have meant?

"If that's what you want, then I would love to spend time with you like this," Oscar said. He pressed a softer kiss to her mouth and then grinned. "Although, somewhere much more comfortable and warm."

She giggled, nodding, tucking her hands inside his robe to warm them. She pressed her palm against his chest and felt the thump of his own rapid heartbeat. His body wanted her. It thrummed with the same urgency that hers had climbed to.

"We can take it slow," he said quietly. Her eyes met his again, his gorgeous blue eyes. "We will only do what you feel comfortable with. But, believe me when I say, I want you. The need to touch you drives me crazy."

Slowly, her heart in her mouth, she took his hand that held her face and guided it downwards until it was near her breast. She trembled a little as she pressed his palm against her softness. She heard his soft intake of breath, and his eyes that had followed the movement now flew back to hers.

"MC... " He whispered her name, cautious, his hand pressed lightly against her robe.

"It's okay." She put her hand over his, moulding him over her curves, and he closed his eyes, his thumb caressing gently. Oscar's touch was warm, even through the layers of her clothes, and her skin tingled beneath, aching to feel his skin against hers. The intimacy did not scare her, especially since it had been her to place his hand there.

His kiss was softer, less demanding, but it still had the power to weaken her knees as it deepened once again. His hand continued to caress her over her clothes, and she found herself longing for the time when they could be alone and in the warm.

....*....

A chill wind whipped at Garreth's cloak as he walked the path back from Hogsmeade, hands in his pockets and his teeth worrying at his lower lip. He had spent his Saturday morning running errands for Pippin, but still no unicorn hair. The little that the potion shop had was far too valuable to give away at a discount, and so Garreth was left feeling rather frustrated.

That wasn't the only thing that bothered him. For the last few days, MC had been acting strange around him, avoiding his eyes and her cheeks turning pink if he smiled at her. She hadn't come to their usual study session yesterday, leaving him alone with Sebastian and Ominis, which was fine. He just missed her being there.

A sneaking suspicion tugged at him. He was now sure he had made an idiot of himself at the party in his common room. He wished he could remember what he had said to her, but his memory was still hazy over it, and he kicked himself for getting so drunk.

It didn't help that Oscar had been strutting around with the biggest grin on his face, his eyes following MC whenever they were in the same room. Garreth tried not to watch, but he had noticed that whenever they snuck in a kiss, Oscar's hands were now lower on her hips, their touches more intimate than before, and his guts twisted at the thought of what they did in private. There had even been what looked suspiciously like a hickey on Oscar's neck the other day.

Was she going to start pulling away from him after all? It was not a comforting thought in the slightest.

The soft swish of a broom sounded above him, and he looked up, surprised to see MC herself circling back around before swooping to land on the path in front of him.

"There you are!" She called brightly. She swung off her broom and adjusted her robes. "I've been looking for you. Leander said you might be walking back along here."

Garreth couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, hair wind swept and cheeks pink. She wore a green robe and dark brown trousers, Oscar's scarf around her neck, and high boots.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

Her smile was bright and it made his heart lift. Perhaps she wasn't mad at him after all.

"Actually, it's what I can do for you," she said. She glanced up and down the path. "I'd rather not discuss it here, though. Fancy hopping on my broom with me?"

He eyed her broom floating beside her, his face warming at the thought of being that close to her. "Where are we going?"

She grinned and tapped the side of her nose. "It's a secret."

He returned her grin. "I'm ready when you are."

Garreth had partnered on a broom before, many times, mostly with his siblings and sometimes with Leander when they had first started to learn. This was different. Very different.

He sat behind MC, his arms about her waist, his thighs pressed around her hips. He tried not to lean against her too much, but as soon as she kicked off, the motion of the broom made his chest press against her back.

She was so soft and warm, and she smelled so lovely, the whole package making him fill with longing, his thoughts distracted as they flew over the clustered tree tops of the Forbidden Forest. It was like a carpet of gold and crimson below them, the leaves glorious in their autumn colours, delicate wafts of mist trailing through the shadows beneath the canopy.

The cold breeze tugged at their hair, strands escaping MC's braid tickling his face as he leaned to look over her shoulder. His fingers were splayed at her stomach, delicately gripping the fabric of her clothes.

"Where are we going?" He asked again into her ear.

She tilted her head slightly to call back to him. "It's a surprise!"

Warm flutters began in his stomach, and if he closed his eyes, perhaps he could pretend, just for a moment, that holding her like this could last forever. But all too soon, MC was slowing down, swooping gracefully towards an outcrop of rock nestled deep in the forest.

They landed, Garreth reluctant to let her go as they climbed off. "You're good at flying, MC."

She smiled, flicking her wand to put away the broom. "I have your brother to thank for that. He has been giving me tips."

Garreth nodded, some of the joy slipping from the moment at the mention of Oscar, a reminder that she sat like that with him on a broom too. He glanced around, the eerie silence of the forest only broken by the cold breeze.

"What brings us out here?" He asked. He moved to the edge of the rock to look at the murky dark below, signs of a steep path leading to the forest floor.

He heard her sigh, and he turned. She gave him a grave look. "There have been some reports of poachers in the area, and Poppy is concerned. I've come out here to check on a particular beast for her, and I wanted to bring you along so that you might be able to gather some ingredients for your energy potion idea."

"Which ingredients?" He asked, hope springing up inside him.

She stepped closer, her smile just gorgeous in the soft sunlight. "How would you like to meet some unicorns?"

He couldn't help it, he exclaimed in delight and threw his arms around her. She laughed and hugged him back. "Thank you!" He said.

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "We need to check all is well with them first, and hope that they are willing to shed some hair."

The trail was steep and littered with loose stones, and Garreth held on to MC as they carefully picked their way down to the forest floor, slipping and sliding as they went.

"How come you didn't just come here with Sebastian?" Garreth asked. "Adventuring is what you two do, isn't it?"

"It's your potion though," she said. "And anyway, we managed perfectly well without Sebastian the last time we were in the forest together. We just need to stick together, and keep a look out."

They wandered through the gloom for a while, the path sticky with mud in places, before they came to an area thick with undergrowth. MC slowed and urged him to duck down, taking his arm as they pressed through the foliage.

She held her finger to her lips and pulled him in close, the floral scent of her perfume filling his nose as she got him to peer through a gap in the bushes they were crouched in.

There in the clearing were four unicorns, their coats glossy and shimmering in the low light. Garreth stared, a sigh leaving his lips, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the soft silk of their manes and the regal shine of the their horns.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Beautiful, aren't they," MC whispered near his ear. He turned to her, surprised to see how close she was. Their eyes met, and she smiled, her eyes glittering in the darkness. "Would you like to get closer?"

His cheeks flamed, eyes widening as he stared, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and he swallowed hard. Was she serious? What about Oscar?

"What?" He squeaked.

"The unicorns," she said. "Would you like to get a closer look?"

He blinked, realisation crashing into him. He put his hand to his forehead and winced. "Oh, right. Of course," he mumbled. "Yes, I would love to."

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and slowly leading him out into the clearing. "Move slowly and quietly. Follow my lead. They know me."

Garreth was almost holding his breath as they stepped carefully into the clearing. MC made soft, soothing sounds as they approached a rather lovely white unicorn, her hand held out towards it with some kind of treat in her palm. The unicorn stilled, eyeing them, nose delicately sniffling.

MC paused and spoke softly, and Garreth found himself watching her rather than the magnificent beast they were trying to coax. How did she make everything look so special? She looked so lovely, so delicate and beautiful, and yet her bravery and determination shone in her eyes. How he wished she had been sorted into Gryffindor so that he could spend even more time in her presence, he thought she would make a great addition to his house.

The unicorn did indeed seem to know her, stepping up to nuzzle MC's hand and take the treat. MC smiled, softly praising the unicorn before giving it an affectionate scratch along its nose.

"I want you to meet a friend of mine, Daisy," MC said softly. "He really wants to meet you."

MC urged Garreth closer, and he swallowed hard as she lifted his hand up and placed it next to hers against the unicorns nose. The unicorn gently nudged against them both, and Garreth chuckled quietly.

Slowly, he began to stroke the smooth fur, his nerves dissipating as he gazed into the eye of the beast. "This is amazing," he whispered. He turned to smile at MC. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said warmly. She placed the treats in his other hand. "Here, a little distraction while I harvest for you."

Garreth took the treats, Daisy immediately snuffling to see what he had, and MC took a brush from her pocket and began to stroke it through her silky mane. Soft strands of hair gathered in the bristles, and Garreth felt his chest contract with something that was almost painful as he watched.

In that moment, he thought he might very well love MC. The thought spiralled, filling his chest and making flutters erupt in his belly.

She was here to make sure these beautiful beasts were safe from poachers, and yet she had thought to bring him along, took the time to remember that he wanted the hair for his silly side project. Nothing was ever too much for her when it came to thinking of others.

"MC... " He began. He had no idea what words were going to spill from his lips, probably something foolish that would have ruined this moment, but it seemed the moment was doomed anyway.

The flash of a spell shot through the clearing, startling the unicorns and crackling as it scorched the ground near MC's feet. She cried out and stumbled back, just catching herself before she fell to the dirt of the forest floor. Garreth saw poachers appearing from the undergrowth, wooden masks covering the top half of their faces.

MC had her wand out already and he fumbled for his, the unicorn treats spilling to the ground as the beasts let out a whinny of panic and ran from the clearing.

"You!" A tall poacher in a leather coat stalked towards MC. "I should have known we'd come across you again."

MC's face was as hard as stone as she beckoned Garreth to move closer. "Get behind me," she muttered.

He did so, wand out, but no idea how to deal with the number of poachers moving to circle them without getting hurt in the process. "What do we do?" He asked.

"Stay close to me," she murmured quietly. "Get ready to duck, hold my robe, and whatever you do, don't let go."

"Um, okay?" He gulped.

"I mean it, Garreth. No matter what happens, stay close to me."

Her voice didn't even shake. Not once.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished Sebastian had been the one to come with her because he didn't have much faith in himself to protect her if this went bad. He wanted to. His whole body was tingling with the desire to wrap her up and whisk her to safety.

"I can Apparate," he said. "My father taught me."

She shook her head. "If we leave, they will take the unicorns. We have to stop them."

His eyes bulged. "We do? How?"

"Just trust me," she said.

The poachers began to advance, and their wands trained on him and MC. He felt the first beads of sweat begin to gather on the nape of his neck, but he wasn't even hot. In fact, he was cold. He grabbed the back of MC's robes as she had told him, his fingers shaking as he stared around the clearing.

"Expelliarmus!"

As the poacher cast towards MC, he felt her tense up, her arm flourishing as a huge dome appeared over the top of them. The disarming spell rebounded, along with several other spells that erupted from the other poachers only to bounce off the protection MC had thrown up.

"Fuck," he whined. He gripped her robes harder, hating that he wasn't better at this kind of thing. Oscar had always been better at duelling. Garreth was handier with his fists, or even better, give him a cauldron and some herbs and he could whip up something for you. But this?

"Hold on!" MC cried out.

Garreth stared, mouth agape as she appeared to reach for the sky with her wand. A blast of blue and white shot upwards and spread like lightning through the canopy of the trees. The poachers all flinched back, shouting at each other.

"I told you this bitch was dangerous," one of them spat.

MC was shaking with the effort of her spell, the blue and white light now crackling downwards to surround her, her body appearing as though lit with cold fire. Garreth thought about letting her go, the sparks beginning to surround him too, but she had told him to hang on no matter what.

She screamed, a hoarse cry that burst from her mouth, and her magic bloomed outwards in a rolling wave, the lightning bolts hitting the poachers and making them jerk in some kind of horrifying dance.

MC shook, her wand stretched out towards the ring leader as she cast a huge blast of blue and white towards them. The ring leader exploded in a blinding flash of light, sparks flickering outwards before dying off in the gloom. The rest of the poachers were slowly growing still, their bodies crumbling to the dirt in heaps around them as the last sizzle of her huge spell dissipated.

Silence descended over the clearing, the unicorns long gone, MC stood there, panting and staring at the spot where the ring leader had once stood. The tip of her wand was still glowing blue, and when she slowly turned to face him, he was shocked to see flickers of that blue in the depths of her eyes.

He couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, his fingers in some kind of death grip on the back of her robe. He was so close to her that he could smell the smoke and heat of her magic. He realised he was scared. Scared of her. She had been terrifying in her power and yet so beautiful.

The magic faded from her eyes, and they began to shine with tears. She shook her head, her arms lowering to hang at her sides.

"Please, don't look at me like that," she said softly. She sounded sad, broken even.

"Like what?" His own voice was raspy, cracked.

"Like you are scared of me, like... like you don't even know me."

Garreth tried to swallow and almost choked on his own saliva, or lack of it, as his eyes swept around the clearing. Bodies. Everywhere. At her hand. The ring leader obliterated to mere dust.

"Are they all...?" He had to be sure.

"Yes," she said, her voice small. "They are dead."

He stared at her. No, he didnt know her. Not this side of her at least. He was still clinging to her robe but he couldn't let go. He tried to say something, but only a whimper came out.

"Garreth," she pleaded. Her hand reached for him and he flinched.

He couldn't stand the flare of pain on her face at his reaction, he wanted to take it back, but all he could do was stand there staring at her.

The tears welled up even more in her eyes, and one escaped, sliding over her cheek. She looked down, swiping it away. "This is why I never tell anyone what happened last year, why I keep my mouth shut and hide my magic away," she said. "I know what it does, what I am capable of, but sometimes I have to use it. We would both be dead now if I hadn't."

"You... " He gulped, his eyes trying not to look at the dead. "You've killed before."

She sighed, shoulders slumped, and face resigned as she nodded. Her gaze met his, her eyes pained but honest. "Many times," she said.

He remembered the foraging trip, how brave he had thought she was for fighting against dark wizards after their chat about it. She didn't look very brave right now, pale and tear streaked, her eyes filled with pain. She looked small, despite the terrifying power she had just unleashed with seemingly little effort.

"Sebastian... does he...?" He asked. He felt sick, his stomach turning over at the thought of them doing this kind of thing together.

Her face hardened. "He knows, yes. He has seen what you just witnessed."

Garreth nodded, although that was not what he had meant. He wondered if Sebastian was capable of killing as well, and something told him that he absolutely was. No wonder they were so damn close. They had horrific secrets to harbour.

Just moments ago, he had thought her suitable to be sorted into Gryffindor, but now he wondered if maybe Slytherin would have been more apt.

"I... I need a moment," Garreth said. He took a step, his legs shaky, and came to a halt when his hand pulled at her robes. He looked down and slowly forced his hand to let go.

MC reached out and grabbed his wrist, her eyes still pained as they stared at each other.

"Don't go too far, there might be more of them," she warned.

His lips trembled. "Will you kill them too?"

She flinched and let him go. "Garreth, please."

"What? Forget about it? Is that what you want me to do?" He asked, his voice strained. "You just slaughtered a whole group of poachers in one hit. You. The girl who sits next to me in potions with the cute smile and a big heart. You're... you're a killer, MC! I just... I can't..."

Horrified tears stung his eyes, and he had to turn away. His feet began to move, and once he had started, he couldn't stop. He began to run. His feet hit the dirt path as he ran through the forest with no idea where he was going.

To be continued...

[electronic-old-men]

I don't usually make original posts here but I figured I should mention that I have a fuck ton of sideblogs in case anyone's interested. Some are more active than others but I mainly use them to archive specific genres of posts for myself. Feel free to follow or like/reblog spam, I don't really care

Personal/inspiration blogs:

@electrold is where I reblog art that inspires me

@cybernetic-old-ladies is where I reblog inspiration for sewing, crochet, fashion, recipes, plushies, and other grandma activities. Very meticulously organized with tags.

@bonobos-central is where I talk about my OCs!! I don't generally post my doodles there (that's on twitter) but maybe someday I will.

@gottabringmychicken is where I reblog posts (mostly videos) that make me happy! I go there if I need a bit of positivity :-)

@sansundertalee is where I reblog posts about dungeons and dragons (and sometimes bugs).

@irl-lustrat is where I reblog posts that have a very specific vibe. Cryptidcore? Evil wizard core? Idk man I just work here

"Fandom" blogs (aka where I stash fanart of things I like):

@chunguswave is the danny phantom sideblog I made when I was 16. Lots of angst and horror. I still rb there every once in a while because those bitches are still out there making baller art on the reg

@hylicsarchive is where I reblog hylics fanart. Love those little clay guys.

@magndudusjhs-archive is where I rb Magnus archives stuff. Silly horror lads.

Mainly inactive ones are @bophades69 (hades game) @taz-shite (adventure zone) @jellybean-george (jellybean george) @breath-owo-wild (botw) and @atla-tgungs (avatar)

[maybe-theres-hope]

Tarlos Period Drama AU

So @howtosingit received an ask about a Tarlos Bridgerton AU, and to be honest I’ve just binged the whole thing so I commented on that post saying I’d attempt it. 

But here’s the thing. I couldn’t make it work with Regency Era. I just...couldn’t. So I have placed them in The Gilded Age in America. If you’re familiar with it, I want you to know that I’m not going to include any ridiculous corruption or monopolies that really...defined the era. Moreso I’m putting them in a time where I think the clothes are pretty, and the aesthetic fits my needs. Everything in this will be very fun and mostly lighthearted with only the perfect amount of angst to satisfy period drama tropes. It will be at times inaccurate, and other times shamelessly self indulgent. Tropes galore.

I also said I would attempt a one-shot but....yeah. This will be...rather long. LOL can’t stop won’t stop. 

Under the cut is the opening scene, to give you a feel (not my first attempt at writing in this style, but the first in a LONG while.) I will post link to AO3 when I begin publishing. PLEASE let me know if you are looking forward to it, as it will greatly motivate me!

1885. TK is son of Owen Strand, of Strand Intercontinental Railroad Company. They have traveled to the southern US to cut deals with landowners there to build a lucrative rail line through central Texas. TK is 26, and his father thinks he’s getting rather old to be unmarried. He has warned TK that if he does not find a husband by the end of the year, he will arrange a marriage, as Owen cannot by law bequeath his fortune upon his death unless his son is married. TK is not...vibing with having to hurry his decision to wed. Truly at his heart, he is a romantic and wishes to marry for love. It’s just that love has been hard to come by with the flighty boys of his set back home in New York. He’s not holding out hope for any prospects in whatever back country they’re traveling to either.

“Ms. Mercer’s proposal looks promising,” Owen says, mostly to himself but loud enough to include TK in the conversation, should he wish to participate. “And Mr. and Mr. Felton-Lowman have quite a sprawl, though it does look to contain more elevation than I was hoping. I thought all of Texas was supposed to be flat?” Owen muses as he tosses the papers back onto his makeshift desk.

TK is only half listening, choosing instead to stare morosely out the window at the passing countryside of the American South, eyes at intervals tracking livestock in the fields and lingering drips from this morning’s light storm rolling down the glass window of the lavish Pullman they’ve commandeered as their vessel for this journey. His father, bless his soul, had tried to get TK to care more about the business as of late, and truth be told, TK was very interested in the workings of his father’s company and he did take great pride in being able to inherit it someday and make his father proud. It was just that recently, he’d had his heart thoroughly crushed by an absolute rake of a man and he’d rather wallow in self pity than think about geological surveys and boundaries for livestock movements.

TK heard his father sigh, a sure sign that a lecture was coming soon. TK took a breath and held it.

“I wish you’d forget about that awful boy, Tyler. You wouldn’t have wanted a life with him anyway. His family was barely polite at best, and scandalous at their worst. Honestly, you got out on the good side of things.” TK wanted to say that he didn’t care about things like status and scandal, he cared about love and commitment.

Turns out all Alexander had been able to commit to was his harem of stable boys and footmen that TK had known nothing about until it was too late.

TK blew out his breath. He knew his father meant well. Owen Strand was not overbearing as some other fathers were, especially with an only child upon whom everything rested. He wished his son to be happy and settled, is all. TK knew this, and still he couldn’t help his sullen reply.

“Yes, father, I shall just forget. Forget every sweet nothing and every second and third dance. Forget every promise and every earnest declaration. Forget that it was all a lie. Yes, my mind shall be rid of Alexander’s presence by sundown. Then we shall celebrate. How simple.” He knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to be angry for a while. He’d only found Alexander with Mrs. Howell’s second footman three days earlier. It still stung.

As the train rattled on, closer to a place that TK was of a mind to understand was so far from proper civilization as to be considered exotic, he felt his father’s disappointment cling to him. That hurt worse than what he’d seen Alexander and the footman doing--which was something for which he was sure a name had not been invented yet.

“I’m sorry, father. It’s just that you’ve set this deadline for me with no explanation as to why, and I don’t want to let you down but I’m afraid I’ll never find the right man for me. I had thought it would be Mr. Thompson, but I was mistaken. Sorely mistaken.”

At this, TK looked up to catch his father’s soft look of commiseration. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but you are getting on in age. Most boys are married off by three and twenty, and you’ve gone nearly four years past that. I’m not going to be around forever, you know. You need to secure a match that makes you happy, but you’ll need to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Why, father? Why must I rush such a momentous decision? You are in perfect health! I have another five or ten at least!” At this, he caught a very minute shift in his father’s countenance, something like pain, but it was gone in an instant. His father was the most stoic man TK had ever had occasion to meet; if he was in pain at all, no one would ever know. It must have been a trick of the flickering pre-dusk light coming through the windows of the train car. Owen took on a playful tone.

“Five or ten? What respectable young lad would want to marry a man of thirty-five? You’d practically be spinster by then,” he joked fondly.

“You’re a good deal past thirty-five and I’ve still seen twenty year old Miss Brinkman making eyes at you across the dancefloor of an evening. If I’ve inherited your genes I’ve nothing to fear,” TK shot back with a barely there smirk.

“Thank heaven for us all, but you’ve got your mother’s beauty. I couldn’t have asked for better,” Owen said quietly. TK’s mother had been gone these past ten years. A bout with pneumonia that the doctors could not cure had taken her from them. “But you do have my charm, I’ll allow you that. You should put it to use down south. Perhaps a cattle baron might catch your eye?”

“Oh by God, no. I couldn’t imagine whiling away my days on a smelly farm trying to read reports by moonlight and taking my sullen and fatigued husband to bed only for him to fall asleep minutes after his head hits the pillow. No romance in hard labor, that’s for sure.” TK shuddered a bit to think of life on an actual farm, constantly smelling of hay and manure like some streetsweeper back in Manhattan.

“I do believe successful cattle barons can afford more than a few tawdry tallows, Tyler,” Owen quipped with a smirk before turning his attention back to the maps and surveys scattered in front of him. The conversation that, just moments ago, had been fraught with uncertainty and earnestness seemed to flutter into the wind. TK and his father were like that most times: they’d lay things out on the table between them, and if it clearly couldn’t be resolved in a single good-natured quarrel, they both gave themselves time to regroup to resume the discussion at a later date.

For this particular subject, TK was coming to think of that ‘later date’ as a cuff slowly tightening around his wrist, the chain binding him to his destiny getting shorter and shorter.

He looked down at his hands, privileged hands that hadn’t had to do much manual labor in his life, save for the few times his father took him to the yards to show him how things were run. Owen, on the other hand, was an entirely self-made man, who saved and invested his earnings working for Vanderbilt and made enough to purchase his first railcar at just twenty. He contracted it with the Erie and charged passengers thirty-five cents for passage between New York and Boston. From there it only grew, to what was now a very respectable business, looking to lay lines of their own. Perhaps not the largest--that was still Vanderbilt’s claim--but certainly a player on the board.

And it would all be TK’s if he could just hurry up and fall in love already.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Liminal

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: Parker, Scott

Another #fluffember offering, although perhaps a different type of fluff to yesterday’s.  ‘Rose’ only wanted to lend itself to angst, so it took a little bit of strong-arming and a pov shift to move away from that.  I call this ‘melancholy fluff’.

After the rain comes the sun, but there’s a special moment in between.

People complained about the English weather plenty – “too grey”, “too wet”, “too boring”, “too cold”, the list went on – but in Parker’s mind, there was little that beat the fresh taste of rain just passed.  In the distance, a rainbow flirted with storm-grey clouds, an indication that just because it had stopped here, didn’t mean it had stopped everywhere. Likewise, somewhere the sun was poking her head out, not yet visible from the estate but surely not far off.

It was quiet, peaceful – even that blasted dog was hiding from the recent weather with Parker’s ward, deep inside the manor – and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the scent of freshly-fallen rain on grass.  Born and raised a city lad, the majority of his life surrounded by the concrete jungle of London or prison, even in his golden years it was a simple thing that never failed to fill him with awe.

His skin prickled, a sixth sense honed from a, uh, misspent youth, and slowly, cautiously, he let his eyelids crack open again, searching for the interruption.  Petty thieves tried their luck with the Creighton-Ward Estate all the time, and with his Ladyship entertaining some very important guests, he was determined not to let some young upstarts ruin their day.

It wasn’t a young upstart. Well, he supposed it was, but not an unwelcome one, and most of the time not really an upstart anymore. The years had not been particularly kind to the youngster, and unlike Parker’s own youth, it wasn’t even karma knocking.

But musings aside, what was one of their very important guests doing wandering around the garden, rather than staying in the nice, warm manor and not interrupting Parker’s appreciation of the English weather?

Shoulders were slumped, gelled-back hair flattened and coat wet.  Had he been out during the rain?  Oh, Mrs Tracy would not be pleased when she realised one of her grandsons was trying to make himself sick.  Not that Parker would tattle, but he wouldn’t need to.  She, at least, was inside the manor, warm and dry.

The young man hadn’t noticed him yet, so he stayed where he was for the moment, observing.  Some of the Tracy boys were simple enough to handle, the same approach reliable every time, but this one required a special touch.

Those slumped shoulders, the way he’d clearly slipped out into the rain with little care or thought for the later consequences… it was one of those days.  The heavy, heavy days where the world weighed just a little too much, the losses too dear, too fresh even after all these years.  The young man wanted solitude, an escape from self-inflicted responsibility.  Parker, well in his golden years and with too many memories of young men spiralling away entirely with nothing to ground them, knew that solitude was not the answer.

Just… a change of scenery. For a while.  And a supporting shoulder.

“Nothing like rain just gone,” he said, stepping forwards to draw attention to himself.  Never sneak up on former military.  “Wouldn’t you agree, Master Scott?”

Blue eyes flicked to him, widening in surprise for a moment before settling into something more melancholy again.  The young man forced a small smile, painfully thin and worn, looking around him.  “It’s not too bad,” he agreed.  Parker chuckled dryly and finished his journey to his side.

“Not too bad, ‘e says.” He shook his head.  “You young lads.”  The young lad in question managed another quirk of his lips.  “’as ‘er Ladyship shown you ‘er new garden yet?”  Strictly speaking, it wasn’t finished and she wasn’t intending on showing anyone until it was, but Parker didn’t think she’d mind too much.

Scott shook his head, and Parker reached up to clasp his shoulder, guiding him down the path. Even through his gloves, he could feel the dampness of the coat, but he didn’t comment.  Not yet.  The fact that Scott didn’t react, even just to shake him off, spoke volumes.

The new garden was small, by Creighton-Ward standards.  Surrounded by high walls, some ten feet at least, and entered by an ornate wrought-iron gate, it was perfectly secluded from the rest of the estate.  As they passed through the arched gateway, Parker let his hand drop from the young man’s shoulder.

“’ave a walk-about,” he invited.  Scott glanced at him, eyes clouding with confusion, and Parker shrugged, gesturing at the carved wooden seat tucked into an alcove in the wall.  “These h’old bones don’t move like they used to, Master Scott.”

“You’re not that old,” Scott retorted, but he took the invitation for what it was and wandered down the central gravel path.  He didn’t stop to admire the flowers, but Parker hadn’t expected him to.  If he’d wanted someone to do that, he’d have invited Mrs Tracy, or Virgil.  Scott just needed to move around for a while, walk off whatever had decided to weigh on him today, away from the ever-observant eyes of younger brothers.

Surrounded by high walls, and with said brothers all unaware of the garden’s existence, there was no witness save Parker, and Parker had long learnt to become invisible.  He sat on the seat, feeling the chill of the damp soaking through his trousers with no complaint, and waited.

The sun’s rays had just broken through the lingering clouds, turning the drops of water clinging to petals and leaves into shining pearls, when a warm body settled onto the bench beside him.  Parker said nothing, continuing to look forwards at the sparkling walled garden until Scott let out a sigh that sounded far more upbeat than his previous attitude.

“Thanks, Parker,” he said. Parker glanced at him; shoulders were no longer slumped forwards, but loosely relaxed, and what had been melancholy eyes were brighter again, their determined shine renewed.

“My pleasure, Mr Scott.” Scott frowned at him, but it was playful, not offended.  After a moment, he smiled again, and Parker’s own face relaxed into something similar. “h’Are you ready to go inside?”

“I am.” No hesitation; the troubled young man from earlier had gone, leaving the confident one in his stead.  Confidence always looked better on him.

“h’I think h’it would be prudent to take the servants’ door, Master Scott,” he offered, making his way to his feet and scowling as his back creaked.  Golden age or not, he wasn’t that old!  “h’Otherwise your Gran might see you before you dry h’off.”

Scott winced at the reminder of his grandmother’s presence and inevitable disappointment, but then laughed.  “If that’s what you suggest,” he agreed.  “Lead on, Parker.”

They didn’t escape Sally Tracy’s eagle eyes, but at least Scott was laughing again during their attempts, and refused to wilt under the eventual scolding.  Parker met the woman’s eyes once her eldest grandson was sent to dry off properly and find some fresh clothes, and saw the same relief in them.  The world demanded too much from him, but it hadn’t broken him.

If it took some English weather and a walled garden to hold him together, then that was what Parker would provide, as many times as it took.  The young man wasn’t going to break under the grey ninja’s watch.

[sinningismywinning]

Do As You Please - 1

   This wasn’t something you did often. Yet again, that doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of doing it more. The wet cobblestone clicked and cracked beneath your heels. The smell of musk and filth filled your nose. You tried to avoid bars at night, but after the day you had working alongside head seamstress Jeanne Tousaint, you could really use that bourbon.

 Everyone in Birmingham knew that the best place to drink was the Garrison. Well, all the men knew that. People weren’t particular about women strolling into bars, unless they were whores, or chaperoned by husbands. You knew people would strew you a line of shit once you sat down to drink, but you figured that you’d get too drunk to notice. You pushed open the doors, feeling the central slab of copper, grease your hands with grime.

With your head held high, you made your way inside the dimly lit bar. There was an uproar of conversations. You noticed a few heads turning your way, but this was a regular card you dealt with. The pub was packed, so finding a lone seat was hard enough. You sat far from the door with an empty seat to your left. On the other side of that empty seat, was a man who smelled like the floor of the bar. He had an unkempt mustache. For whatever reason, that stuck with you. The barman walked towards your section. He paused at the man who looked like he had been drinking all day. “Another one Mr. Shelby?” he questioned while puling away his empty glass. Another one? The poor bastard was drunker than a doorknob, yet the man behind the bar seemed to egg him on, or so you thought. 

The man mumbled back incoherently to your ears, but somehow the tender understood perfectly what he said. Must be a regular. It didn’t take long for the bartender to pour your drink. You thanked him kindly and slid your money to him. This process carried on 3 more times, until you stopped counting.Hours had passed, and time was not your friend. Everything in your vision was warping, and quite frankly you had enough confidence to chat up any patron in this vicinity. You loved being social, even in situations when you shouldn’t. It was easy to bite your tongue, but tonight was a night of fun. You spoke freely to the man behind the bar. He didn’t shut you down for speaking about your political beliefs, and quite frankly, seemed to treat you to the same standard as any man within that very pub.

 The man a few seats down had suddenly traded places, as he began to sober up, and you went in the opposite direction. He would occasionally chime in to whatever conversation you held. The bartender watched his words carefully around the man, but you didn’t get the hint to carry yourself the same way. “Say, I’ve never seen you here before,” he spoke directing his body towards you. Long nose. You always picked up on odd attributes.

“As I, to you.” You slurred raising your glass. Wrong answer. He wanted to know your name, not your input. You saw the squint of his eyes and couldn’t help but giggle. He was trying to pick your brains. “You’ve got a mouth on you, yeah?” You were a smart-ass, but alcohol brought that out completely. You nursed your drink as the bartender rubbed his stubble with angst. “Don’t all faces have mouths, Mr... Sheldon?” you shot back, trying to remember what the bartender referred to him as. He didn’t know whether to laugh, or pity you. “It’s Shelby,” he spoke deeply, getting the hint that you had no clue who you were speaking to. He was right, you didn’t. “Shelby, Sheldon, all sounds the same,” you quipped with a short laugh.

 He didn’t know where you had came from. You were dressed well, and seemed to take care of yourself. You couldn’t be a whore, or a street vendor. This puzzled him more. “Names Arthur, just leave it at that,” he shook his head with thinning patience and turned his body back to the bar. You were a tricky thing to figure out. You noticed the bar drop in noise as a man walked in. He solemnly nodded to a few lads sitting down in booths. Once he filled the gap between you and Arthur, the bar resumed its previous momentum. The man depressed his posture to quickly light a cigarette. His eyes glanced to you, but only momentarily. He didn’t have to flag the man down from behind the bar, it was almost as if the bar-hand waited in place for his arrival. 

You watched the interaction as you sipped your watered-down bourbon. “The usual, Mr. Shelby?” he asked sincerely. The man now sitting next to you just nodded in response. Another Shelby? They certainly didn’t look alike, and they didn’t have the same affect on a crowd as the other did. It puzzled you. You leaned forward and looked down the bar at Arthur. Some would say your balls were bigger than most. “Brothers? Or Cousins?” you asked completely dismissing the presence of the man in-between you. Arthur let out a laugh and just shook his head. He found it entertaining to watch you run your mouth with disregard. Some would find it disrespectful and embarrassing, he simply found it amusing. “Brothers,” he spoke turning to the bar-hand. “Her drinks are on me.” He had taken a liking to you.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know whether to be flattered, or annoyed. It was as if he spoke down to you by saying that. “I haven’t drank in a long time,” you swirled your glass. “You sure you can keep up with tonight’s habit?” Now the tables turned. He was on the other end of not knowing whether to be annoyed or curious. Maybe both. His brother, the middle-man, didn’t take his eyes off of you. He wanted to see how Arthur would play this one out. The drinks were having quite an unruly effect on your mouth. “Like what you see, love?” Your words made the bartender cringe. Tommy tilted his head with amusement. “Alright miss, I think its time I catch you a walk home,” he spoke lowly. The middle man raised his hand, “No James, it’s quite alright.” he spoke with a smoother voice than his brother. James nodded from behind the bar, not wanting things to get out of grasp.

“Maybe I do like what I see,” he turned to you. His sharp eye contact was more than what you expected. Usually men were intimidated by you. He seemed to have the higher ground with this altercation. Arthur shook his head from behind him in disbelief that his brother was feeding into this. Just as you were about to respond he beat you to it. “How much do you charge?” His words floated just like the smoke that left his mouth. He knew better. He knew you weren’t a whore. You were too posh to be one, and you set your standards low to even drink in a place like this. You let out a hearty laugh. If you didn’t, all of this liquid courage might’ve made you smack him. Men and their entitlement. That’s all that rang through your brain. You could tell by his suit that he had money. Yet, the way he spoke showed that he was raised here, in the slums.    

“I charge more than what you could ever afford,” you stammered, caving in to his false perception of you. Bastard. “Tommy,” Arthur spoke trying to divert his attention from you. “Ooo, like Tommy gun?” you retorted to get under his skin. He may be blunt but you were rude. His face didn’t move in reaction. “No, Tommy as in Thomas,” now he knew why Arthur didn’t move away from you after drinking. No one else spoke to them like this. No one else dared to speak to them like this. You couldn’t be genuine with your remarks, you had to know who they were. How could you not know who the fucking Shelbys were?   

 “Can’t afford? It’s not about money, its about standards.” He said turning away from you. You weren’t going to be walked over like this. You set your drink on the bar to get a better grip at your words, but you managed to tip it over. It spilled onto his lap in a genuine accident. People in the booths were already eyeing your altercation with the brothers. “Aw fuck!” you stumbled trying to stop the spill of the glass. People went dead silent, some even stood. Most knew that the patience of Thomas Shelby, was none.

 You immediately reached for a rag resting on top of the bar. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You reached to dry his shirt. Boundaries and bourbon didn’t go hand-in-hand. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. Even in your moments of coldness, you still apologetically tried to help. He opened his mouth slightly to say something, but quickly closed it. You were just a drunk girl on the wrong side of town. He had figured that much by now. Your eyes locked with his. “I think its time for you to go home dear.” Arthur spoke with pity as he got up to stand next to his brothers seat. It wasn’t suppose to be a night like this. Thomas’ cigarette burned in the ash tray. You were defeated. Embarrassed by your actions. He held his grip a little too long. When you looked at his hand he let go of you.

He turned over his shoulder to see everyone else in the bar drawn to you. No one broke their gaze. He turned to Arthur. “I’’ll take her home. Don’t need someone from here following her, and throwing her body in the Cut.” he poorly whispered. Arthur nodded in agreement. Thomas came into the bar to occupy his mind. He didn’t need your interaction weighing him down, as well as how he’d feel if you, a woman, was killed after he let you drunkenly leave the pub. He turned back to you, “Let’s go.” He spoke with no room for interjection. You knew better than to be rude in an instance like this. You looked down at your feet as the floor moved and wobbled. Your eyes played tricks on you as the alcohol warmed your chest. His hand found the small of your back as he pushed your way through the crowd. You didn’t expect your night to end this way.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Saorsa, Chapter 14

A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  It’s domestic Jamie and Claire, with a sprinkling of angst.

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Claire sat in an over-stuffed armchair as an icy northern wind rattled the unglazed windows, making the flames of the central hearth flicker and dance.  October had descended upon the Highlands with a vengeance.  The labourers were rushing to bring in the last of the harvest before the frosts came.   She had the ledgers open on a low stool before her, trying once again to make sense of the complicated jumble of expenses and yields that the running of an estate entailed.  The only thing she could conclude with any confidence was that there were significantly more expenses than yields.

The soft shuffle of slippered feet on the stone staircase announced his presence before James Fraser slowly entered the room.  She was still not used to seeing him upright and was once again struck by just how tall he was.  No midget herself, he still towered over her when she rose to greet him.

“Dinna fash yer’self, Mistress Beauchamp.  I ‘ave mastered the art of sitting upright, good pupil that I am.”

He settled carefully into her chair’s twin and extended his trouser-clad legs toward the fire with a groan.  After a day’s stony silence following the news that she’d burned his ruined kilt, he’d begrudgingly accepted a borrowed pair of woolen trousers and a loose cotton shirt that didn’t abrade his still-tender back.  The slippers he wore belonged to Frank and were a touch on the small side, but she hadn’t seen fit to mention that.

“I canna believe how it tires me just tae come down those stairs.  I remember as a lad, running up and down from dawn til dusk as tho it t’were nothin’.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned anything remotely anecdotal, and Claire seized the moment, hoping to get this reticent man to open up a tiny bit.  Despite his good manners, a quick wit and near-mythological stubbornness, he seemed trapped far inside himself with an abiding sadness that rose to the surface at the strangest moments.  She guessed it was a consequence of whatever had caused his injury, but she wished he would trust her enough to share the burden.

“Did you grow up in an old house like Lallybroch, then?” she asked, trying to draw him out.

The look on his face made her instantly regretful.  He looked… grief-stricken.

“Mister Fraser, I’m sorry…” she began, but he interrupted her apology.

“Aye, in a place verra much like Lallybroch,” he murmured.  “But ‘twas verra different as weel.”  He shot her a pained grin that effectively closed the subject, then glanced around for a distraction.  She got the impression that were he not still winded from his trip down the stairs, he would have simply returned to his room.

“I see yer lookin’ after the ledgers for yer ‘usband, while he’s at war,” he said, nodding towards the open book.

It was her turn to inwardly flinch.  She’d yet to tell anyone about Frank, and now a new concern had begun to tickle at the edge of her frazzled mind.  She blinked away the glaze of tears from her eyes, before it could be noticed.

“Yes.  Or at least I’m trying.   I confess I find the keeping of the accounts utterly elusive.  It’s like they were set down by some medieval savant purely to confound me.”

“Och, tis no’ sae bad as that, surely.  Bring them ‘ere, and I’ll show ye.”

She rested the huge, leather-clad volume in his lap.  His elegant hands caressed it briefly, as though greeting an old lover.  Then, flipping to the page for 1942, he began his explanation.

“Now, this column’s fer the rents.  Ye collected ‘em in September, aye?”  She nodded, kneeling beside him.  His confident voice took her on a journey away from her worries, and it was only in reflecting back later that night that she was struck by just how at home he was, sitting in front of the great fire, explaining the minutiae of fodder and grazing rights, of royal demesne and rent-in-kind.

Bidding each other goodnight at the top of the great stairs, he pronounced, “Yer a verra fine Lady of Lallybroch, Mistress Beauchamp, despite being a Sassenach.  Yer husband is a lucky man.”

She nodded and managed to close the door to her temporary bed chamber before tears escaped her eyes.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XXI

Chapter: 21/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

A week had passed before Brian had asked to see Ringo for an 'assignment', he'd also asked the rest of the boys to come along. During this time Ringo had moved into the remaining flat on George's floor which was a strange level of commitment Ringo hadn't anticipated: they weren't living together technically, Ringo's things like his clothes and drum kit were at his place across the hall but he spent almost every minute of the day at George's. He had to admit he'd miss his old place somewhat, as dreary and depressing as it was, and he had the horrible feeling that he'd never settle into this new flat because it was just too nice. Not that Ringo didn't think he deserved nice things, but knowing that he was living there through his connections - a phrase he heard repeatedly now - rather than his own hard work made him feel a bit undeserving. Nonetheless he was more than happy to be so much closer to George, not to forget John and Paul either who he was increasingly getting closer with.

His flat was the same layout as George's only flipped, with luxurious furniture and a fairly nice view of the city. John suggested they threw a 'house warming party' which just consisted of another night of debauchery which took place in Ringo's flat instead of George's, but Ringo appreciated the sentiment. George also made the suggestion that they christen his new bed, which didn't take much convincing. Despite his slight discomfort in his new lavish surroundings, he had a real sense of belonging when he was with the other boys and couldn't be happier with how things had turned out. Ringo insisted that they ate a proper homemade dinner together rather than eating out as they usually did and it was such a success that they decided to do it at least once a week from then on. George had helped Ringo in the kitchen and they somehow managed to get a satisfactory dinner ready without breaking anything or burning the place down; next week would be John an Paul's turn, George was already planning on spontaneously becoming allergic to whatever they were going to cook. The four of them essentially did everything together, well not everything despite John's constant joking.

He'd worked a few more shifts at The Babylon and they'd gone very smoothly. Ringo worried he wouldn't be able to go back there after everything that happened but as soon as he had his sticks in hand he felt unstoppable; the constant reminder that security had been increased and were watching him specifically helped too of course. Shane had been massively relieved to see Ringo on his first shift back, giving him a tight hug which neither of them were really anticipating. The rest of the band thought Ringo was pretty 'cool' for having survived the whole thing, but were still a little standoffish. While the physical wounds were completely healed by this point, Ringo couldn't deny he was still a little subconsciously shaken about the whole thing but he just tried his best not to think about it. Upon hearing that Brian wanted to see him, Ringo felt irrefutably nervous about the whole ordeal but he just had to remember how much Brian had insisted that he would be protected now. It was a cold Thursday morning when the four of them were called back over to Brian's house, Paul once again woke them all up on time. They'd started eating breakfast together every so often, although John almost always refused on the basis that it was too early to do anything but going back to bed, which is what they did that morning.

"I think he enjoys torturing us by getting us up so early." John mumbled into his cup of coffee.

"It's 9 in the morning John, it's hardly the break of dawn." Ringo smiled, although he wasn't feeling too chirpy himself.

They all piled into Paul's car and headed back over to Brian's house, which Ringo was pretty excited to see again. George Martin met them at the door once more, although he seemed a little more serious this time. He led them into the lounge and offered them all a drink before vanishing to find Brian again, who entered a few minutes later.

"So lovely to see you boys!" He beamed, approaching them all individually with a handshake before taking the same seat as he did last time "How have you all been keeping?"

They all spoke over one another lazily which made Brian chuckle, he had a cup of tea brought in by George who then moved over to the window. The atmosphere in the room was a little tense, at least Ringo thought so, and he gripped George's hand for comfort.

"Now, I've got quite a big task for the four of you. I could've given it to someone else, but I really think you're perfect for this." Brian began, shifting to get comfortable in the chair as he stirred his tea "It's a great chance for you all to really prove yourself, and would be a great way of throwing you into the deep end, Ringo."

Ringo shone a nervous smile at the mention of his name which resulted in another small laugh from Brian.

"One thing I really want to do as well is remove you four from the environment here, this Chapman business is really heating up and to get you out of harms way would just be a massive relief for myself." He paused to take a sip of his tea "I'll just cut straight to the chase, I want to send you boys over to Germany." He paused for a response.

"What's in Germany?" George asked when he realised nobody else was going to speak.

"Hamburg." Brian said with a smile.

"And what's in Hamburg?" John asked with a chuckle.

"Well we've got quite a few connections over there in the clubs and so forth, but I've been getting a lot of reports lately that a certain group has been trying to muscle their way onto the scene." Brian explained "The issue is we don't know exactly who's doing it, and the people I have over there are far too known to really do anything about it."

"I think I see where this is going." John murmured.

"What I would like you boys to do is go over there and suss this whole situation out. That city is just filled with rambunctious lads like yourself, and I think you'll really fit in there. Ringo, you would join one of the bands in one of my clubs and see what information you can gain there, while the rest of you boys do what you do best." Brian paused again and awaited a response.

"How dangerous could this whole thing get?" Paul asked politely.

"Well it's hard to say, of course. The city itself is rather dangerous, I suppose, but I would insist that Ringo doesn't get involved if anything turns violent. The aim of this whole thing is to discover who's trying to take over our territory, and put to a stop to it. I'm not above offering them money, but ideally I'd rather settle this without any loss on our part. Does that make sense?" Brian smiled.

"What about my job here?" Ringo asked, he felt rather stumped by the whole situation.

"Oh, don't worry about that, George is already working on finding a temporary replacement." Brian gestured behind him to where George gave a small smile in response.

"How long would we be there for?" George asked, he was rubbing the back of Ringo's hand with his thumb.

"I can't imagine it'd extend any longer than a month. A week or two, I'd estimate." Brian took another sip of his drink.

"I don't want to step out of line or anything, Brian." John began "But is taking us away from the city we know and are protected in only to place us somewhere unknown with a potentially dangerous group of people really the best idea?"

Brian just chuckled "I understand your concern, of course. If you are all opposed to the idea, I can offer it to someone else, but I thought it'd be a great opportunity for you three to show what you're capable of, particularly with the messy episodes over the past few months." There was more of an edge to his voice now.

"Do you know how big the group is?" Paul asked.

"Not definitively, but if nobody can identify them they can't be that large surely." Brian said with a smile "I have a lot of respect for you boys, and I trust you to do this for me. So what do you say?"

There was a pause for a few moments, each of them looking at one another before George spoke "Can you give us a minute to talk about it?"

"Oh, of course. I'll head out to the garden, come and find me when you're done." Brian didn't hesitate to get up then, heading out of the room with his tea in hand and George following behind him.

Another silence followed before they were sure the two of them were far away enough from the room.

"What do you think?" George spoke first, squeezing Ringo's hand.

"I dunno... I've never even been out of the country before." Ringo said sheepishly.

"Well I say we go." John blurted out determinedly.

"Really?" Paul asked surprised. "Why so sure?"

"I've heard a lot about Hamburg from some of the other lads, and it sounds like a right riot." John grinned.

"John it's not a bloody holiday." George scoffed.

"Well we can't work all day, can we?" John sat back comfortably, crossing his legs over.

"What have you heard?" Ringo asked, with Brian out of the room he instantly felt more relaxed.

"Drugs, drink, music, prostitutes - you name it, its got it all." John said.

"We literally have all of those things here." George replied with a chuckle.

"No, not like this place. It sounds like sin central, I'm telling you. I think it'd be fun."

"Not sure I'm happy with how excited you are for prostitutes, darling." Paul spoke up now "But it would be nice to get out of this place, maybe get away from all the glitz of it all."

"I'm all for it, would be nice to get back here and those Chapman bastards have been dealt with." George said "But only if you're comfortable with it, love."

"Its just a lot, you know? It sounds like it could be fun, especially if all I'm really doing is drumming. I just don't want to be like dead weight." Ringo was warming to the idea, but the unknown aspect of it all was certainly frightening.

"You wouldn't be you daft git." John laughed "That's the whole point, we do all the dirty work you just be your normal charming self and get us some information."

"But how do I even do that?" Ringo asked.

"Ringo, what's my favourite colour?" John raised his eyebrow.

"Er- Green, why?" Ringo stammered.

"And how do you know that?" John leaned forward in his seat.

"I think Ge-" Ringo paused "Oh... Now I feel proper daft."

"It's not rocket science. All you have to do is talk to people, find out what you can and we'll do the rest." John was still laughing.

"Well in that case, I suppose I'm on board then." Ringo chuckled.

"You sure?" George asked and Ringo nodded in response.

"That sorts that then!" Paul said with a smile "Now, can anyone speak any German?"

Brian had been quite delighted at the news, he explained that they'd have to be staying in somewhere on the 'lower scale of things' to not draw so much attention to themselves and told them to pack that very same night. Their flight left London the following afternoon and they had to be up and ready in the morning for a long drive.

"I thought you'd have a private jet or something." Ringo said as he packed up his clothes into a suitcase, he didn't even own one prior to a few hours ago.

"We're not that loaded." George chuckled as he rifled through his wardrobe.

"Are you excited?" Ringo asked, he had the horrible feeling that he was the only nervous one.

"A little bit, but it's still work, you know? Just hope things go as smoothly as they're supposed to." George sounded more serious now "Especially if you're getting involved now, I've gotta start doing things properly."

All packed and ready to go, the four of them spent the evening at George's having a little to drink and trying their best to get an early night. Ringo struggled getting to sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night as the fear began to take hold of him. George groggily awoke after an hour of Ringo's continuous movements, he didn't say a word but moved up closer to the smaller man and wrapped his arm tight around his waist. It calmed Ringo instantly, and while he couldn't silence the constant worries in his mind, he felt more able to overcome them with the safe feeling of George beside him. He just had to remember John's words and Brian's emphasis of how important his safety was.

The follow morning came abruptly in the manner they always did whenever something important was going on: Paul knocking repeatedly on George's door with a groggy John stood beside him until Ringo finally got up to let them in. At times George never even locked his front door because it just made life easier for everyone, despite Paul telling him it was a stupid thing to do. There was to be a car arriving in 10 minutes which was just enough time to drag George out of bed and into something half-decent. Despite the importance of the whole situation, at this point it really just felt like a strange holiday to the four of them and Ringo couldn't deny that he felt a little excited. They all had a cup of tea and pieces of toast were lazily passed around before they managed to squeeze into the lift with their suitcases. There was a driver waiting for them outside the building with a rather swanky car, Ringo felt a little like a celebrity as they all piled inside. On the back seat was a letter from Brian addressed on the front simply to 'Boys'. Paul seized the letter before John lazily sat on it and read it aloud to them; it detailed what hotel they'd be staying at, the clubs that were in need of investigating, the band Ringo would be joining and most importantly that they should call him at the end of every day to update him.

"Bit much." John snickered.

"This is some serious shit." George chuckled "Can we try to not fuck this one up?"

"Like you're so perfect." Paul made himself comfortable as the car began to drive off "Are you forgetting when you knocked out that bloke onl-"

"Only to find out he was one of ours, yeah whatever." George interrupted with a smile "Let's just do this one properly, alright lads?"

"And who put you in charge?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I'm sorry, lets put the alcoholic, nymphomaniac, coke-addict in charge in a city filled with drugs and prostitutes." George glared but he was still grinning.

"Bastard." John kicked him playfully "I'm not even a coke-addict."

"Well let's keep it that way, eh Johnny?" Ringo laughed and the tension of the car immediately depleted.

"Nobody has to be in charge, we work better as a team anyway." Paul said as he put the letter away in his jacket pocket "Today we should just focus on getting used to the city, settling in and that, before we start anything proper."

"Sounds like you're in charge." George quipped.

The journey to the airport continued in a similar manner, with a slight edge of nervousness under everyone's voices but nothing but playful jokes being told. It was a strange sight for the four of them to be so casually dressed, even if Paul was still wearing a blazer, but it made everything feel significantly less official which did wonders for Ringo's nerves. He'd never even been on a plane before, something he'd already been harmlessly teased about, and he was worried that it would only be the beginning of a series of frightening events. The drive down to London was very long indeed, but luckily they had the radio and one another to stay entertained. All four of them fell asleep at different points on the journey, Ringo was the only one who wasn't purposefully woken up by the rest of them.

"I say we do a crawl of all the clubs, for research purposes." John suggested as he lit a cigarette, they were about an hour away from the airport.

"You don't have to give us that bullshit, John, we're not Brian." George said as he offered out his lighter "Not that I'm opposed to the idea o'course."

"As long as we don't get too shitfaced. I don't see a problem with it." Paul smiled, his seal of approval on a plan usually meant it went forward, Ringo noticed.

"Would be nice to see where I'll be playing for the next few weeks." Ringo suggested "I hope they bloody speak English."

"Music's a universal language, you'll be fine." John chuckled.

"If we're all gonna be sharing a room, can we make a promise now that we're not gonna be bringing anyone back to the hotel? I'm not having my sleep disturbed because John likes the look of some rent-boy." George said.

"Such a prude George, I swear. What happened to you?" John nudged him.

"Look, if you had your own room you can do as much freaky shit as you please but not if I'm in the room, alright?" George nudged him back with a laugh. "Shag them back at their place, in the bloody street for all I care."

Ringo fell asleep a second time before the car finally stopped outside the airport and he was awoken by a soft rocking from George and a tender kiss on the lips. They all performed a variety of strange stretches after they toppled out of the car. A 2 hour flight still awaited them which none of them were particularly looking forward to, but at least the longest part was over now. The four of them all smoked a cigarette before actually heading inside, their driver was gone and they were left alone to their own devices. Brian had tickets waiting for them which Paul went to collect while John went off in a search for coffee.

Getting onto the plane was a strange experience for Ringo, it was a lot smaller than he had anticipated which gave it the strange feeling of not being real. George and Ringo had been seated together with Paul and John in front of them, with the two remaining aisle seats being left for unfortunate passengers who were going to have to put up with their crude conversations for the entirety of the flight. Ringo tried to hide his nerves when the plane began to take off but he was gripping George's hand so tightly he worried he might pull it out of its socket. Once they were in the air Ringo could relax again, as long as he didn't think about how high up they were, and the four of them began to chatter away. John made a pledge to try ever drug offered to him while in Hamburg which earned a roll of the eyes from Paul.

"Forget new drugs, you're gonna come back to England with about five new diseases." George laughed which only spurred John on further.

John expressed his excitement for their red-light district, claiming that these people weren't like 'normal prostitutes' which made Ringo laugh. According to what he'd heard from members of the family that had been sent to Hamburg, it was one of the most depraved and raunchy cities in Europe which was apparently a haven to John.

"I do worry what you'd be like if you didn't have me sometimes." Paul admitted somewhat seriously "Shagging every Tom, Dick and Harry that came your way."

"I'll be honest Paulie, I worry what I'd be like without you too." John replied with a soft kiss.

Both Ringo and George managed to fall asleep at one point, resting their heads on one another despite knowing that once they woke up their necks would be aching, which allowed John and Paul some private time that they no doubt would've capitalised on had there not been an elderly gentleman sat beside them. The 2 hours flew by, rather literally, compared to the car journey down to London and before they knew it they'd landed in Hamburg.  It was approaching 4 o'clock now and the four of them were desperately hungry for some food. They hurried off the plane and seized their suitcases to find another driver waiting for them outside the airport who drove them to their hotel. The city didn't seem to be as debauched as John had described it to be, but it was still fairly early in the day.

The hotel was a welcome change of pace for Ringo, it was incredibly plain and somewhat dingy which was always more comfortable to him than luxury. Paul checked them in at the front desk, he was given a single key between the four of them, where the receptionist gave them a curious look as they walked up to their room. Ringo didn't want to imagine the thoughts the woman was having about what four young men were doing hurrying into a single room while it was still light outside. The room itself looked better than they had all anticipated, they had a small lounge with a radio which split off into a bedroom with two double beds with little space between them.

John immediately jumped onto one of the beds, kicking off his shoes and stretching out onto the sheets. They all followed suit, Paul leaping onto John and rolling around to lie beside him, while George pulled Ringo down onto the bed. It devolved into pure childish antics as John began tickling Paul, who retaliated by hitting him with one of the pillows; before long the four of them were jumping around pelting each other with pillows and diving down onto the creaky beds in fits of laughter. It was pure lunacy, but Ringo couldn't have wished for a better start to this whole ordeal, for no matter how serious or dire things got he knew he'd always have these three with him every step of the way.

[ao3feed-coldflash]

We're Monsters

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/336gJIz

by ERAC12

El plan de Eobard ha dado resultado y ahora tiene todo lo que el deseaba. Reconocimiento, admiración de las masas y su existencia no corría peligro de ser borrada. Barry Allen se encontraba casado con él. Su vida estaba llena de lujos y no tenía nada de qué preocuparse. Estaba viviendo la vida perfecta. Lo único que no tiene es el corazón de su amado esposo.

Barry, después de perder lo unico que lo hacía que el contrato con Eobard valiese la pena, ha decidido buscarse a sí mismo y su felicidad. Sin embargo, su esposo no se lo pondrá tan fácil. ¿Qué pasá cuando su corazón cae por el único hombre más peligroso, después de su marido, en Central City, Leonard Snart? y ¿Por qué todos se encuentran buscando una Lanza?

Words: 5019, Chapters: 1/?, Language: Español

Series: Part 2 of A Multi-Universe without The Legends of Tomorrow, Part 11 of Coldflash and Coldflashwave fics that keep me going and writing

Fandoms: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Arrow (TV 2012), DCU, DCU (Comics), Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Barry Allen, Leonard Snart, Mick Rory, Lisa Snart, Rogues (The Flash), Eobard Thawne, Iris West, Eddie Thawne, Joe West, Hal Jordan, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Hartley Rathaway, Ronnie Raymond, Martin Stein, Lex Luthor, Kara Danvers, Damien Darhk, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Malcolm Merlyn, And a lot of more characters

Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Barry Allen/Eobard Thawne, Eddie Thawne/Iris West, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Laurel Lance/Tommy Merlyn, Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance, Past Barry Allen/Hal Jordan, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: Marriage Contracts, Marriage of Convenience, Doomworld AU., kind of, Eobard being Eobard, Len is a evil but softie Robin Hood, The Rogues are his merry lads, Protective Leonard Snart, Ace Mick Rory, Protective Mick Rory, Illegal Activities, dark themes, Rape/Non-con Elements, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sequel, Infidelity

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/336gJIz

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Daughter of Freddie Mercury; Freddie Mercury x pre-teen/teen reader pt.1

*Author’s note*

Hello all! Okay now this fic had taken me literally FOREVER TO DO. This was a request that a Wattpad user had asked me to do for a friend of theirs and this fic specifically revolves around Freddie Mercury (can be read as either the real man himself or Rami Malek!Freddie). Now keep in mind this is ALL FICTION. So what I’ve written in regard to Freddie, please DON’T GIVE ME ANY HATE, THIS WAS SPECIFICALLY REQUIRED FOR THE REQUEST. Anyways this is only just the first part and I will have the 2nd part up in just a bit. I hope you all enjoy this fic you lovely darlings :)

Warnings: family abandonment, fluff, angst, SOB P**l P**nt**, hints of family neglect (previous parents, but it will be heavily induced in the 2nd part), mentions of drugs (again in 2nd part). 

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@geek-and-proud

___________________________________________________________

*December 1978*

It all began with a conversation between Freddie and Mary. Freddie had just come back from yet another world tour and he was sitting with Mary in their living room on their couch. She was resting on his chest while he stroked her hair with one hand while the other hand was stroking his cat Romeo who was napping just on the other side of him.

"You know what would make this moment even more perfect my love?" Freddie suddenly spoke up.

"What is that?" Mary asked as she nuzzled herself closer to Freddie's chest.

"A child." Mary looked at Freddie in shock. Freddie looked at her and asked, "What?"

"Freddie.....it's just that....we've never really talked about having children yet. Plus you're always touring, how will we ever find time to even try for a baby."

"There is another option we can try for." He fully turned to face Mary and explained to her, "The last concert we did, the stadium was raising money for charity benefits for the foster children programs of Seattle. Apparently one of their foster care houses was falling to pieces, barely able to keep their kids safe and warm at night. I myself asked Terry to let me see the housing itself and oh Mary it was truly horrible. The windows were cracked, the bricks were almost crumbling. It looked more like a prison than a foster care housing. There wasn't even a playground for the children to play in. But thanks to our concert in Seattle, that foster housing will be able to get the full makeover it deserves. Mary, I think we can make a difference and give a misfitted child a second chance at love. Just like what the band stands for as a band."

"Freddie, you have to be sure. A child is a huge responsibility. They're not like an instrument that you can just put aside till you're ready to play with them again."

"I understand my love. And I won't. We won't. I believe we can do this. Let's make a child happy and show them that someone is ready to take them home to a beautiful mother that will give them all the love in the world, and a father who is ready to spoil them to oblivion."

Mary looked at Freddie with soft eyes and she told him as she cupped his face with her right hand.

"If you're sure, I'll....I'll look around and find the nearest foster care home and see if any children are available for adopting. Do you have a preference?"

"A girl, I've always imagined having a little girl that I could spoil and give her all the riches of the world. But also protect her from the nasty little boys that try to tempt her." Mary smiled and shook her head playfully at him. And it was then they officially agreed together.

They were going to foster and hopefully soon adopt a little girl.

Due to the rise of Queen, Freddie couldn't really be as a part of the adoption process of finding a little girl that he and Mary can love together. He would try his best but scheduling would come up and Mary would insist that Queen needed him and that she can handle it.

During one rehearsal Freddie had been off in his own world when Roger tried to get his attention.

"Freddie? Oi Freddie!" Roger then tossed on of his drumsticks at him which made Freddie exclaim out in pain.

"What was that for you arsehole?"

"How else was I supposed to get your attention?" snapped Roger.

"You've been more distracted than usual Fred, is there something going on that we don't know about?" asked Brian. At first Freddie wanted to keep the fact that he and Mary were in the process of fostering their future child a secret, but he felt like the band needed to know.

I mean after all, they would be his future daughter's uncles so he finally decided to tell them.

"Alright my darlings, there is something that Mary and I are planning."

"Oh Christ you didn't elope did you?" said John.

"Don't be ridiculous Deacy darling, if we did elope I'd never forgive myself for not informing you lot first of all to bear witness to it. But no it's.....something a bit more.....drastic."

"Knowing you, how much more drastic can it be?" joked Roger.

"We're in the process of fostering a child." At that proclamation, Roger, Brian and John all stared at Freddie in shock. Silence rang through the air and it was then Brian finally spoke up.

"You're joking right?"

"I most certainly am not Brian." Freddie stated.

"Look Freddie no offense but.....do you know the first thing about raising a child?" asked John.

"Not a damn clue, but that's the beauty of it. Mary and I will learn together as we go."

"Freddie.....a child isn't something that you can just pick up like clothing at the shop. They're a big responsibility. And with Queen rising as fast as we're going, when will you help Mary out to raise it?" Deacy said speaking from experience since he himself was a father of a son.

"If you lads think that I will just flat out abandon Mary and my future daughter you're sadly mistaken. I will give my future daughter the love she was probably denied for so long. I want to help her find a second chance and show her that she was never meant to be alone. That someone out there beyond the reaches of the foster home, that someone is waiting to love her."

The rest of the band were surprised to hear this sudden dedication that Freddie had, like he was sure that he was ready to become a father to a child that had no father, plus god knows what else the child might've gone through.

Suddenly the phone rang.

Freddie walked towards the phone and picked it up and said.

"Freddie Mercury speaking darling,"

'Freddie.' Mary's voice was soon heard on the other end.

"Hello my love."

'Freddie......we've been accepted.' Freddie's body tensed and he straightened himself up and he choked out.

"Y—you sure?"

'Yes, The Central London's Foster care for children just got back with me and they've told me we've been approved to come and meet our future daughter.'

Finally, after months and months of being on the waiting list, going to countless interviews and housing inspections to make sure they were choosing the right parents, Mary Austin and Freddie Mercury were approved to finally foster the child of their dreams.

"That's....what's wonderful! Oh my love it's finally going to happen. You're going to be a mum!"

'And you're gonna be a dad.' Mary sobbed happily.

"When...when can we meet our little angel?"

'They asked to meet them in the next hour and a half. I told them that I had to talk to you first to see if you could make it.'

"Of course my love! Call them right back and tell them that I'll be there in 20 minutes. I can't believe this is happening."

'Me neither, I'll see you there Freddie.'

"See you soon love of my life." With that Freddie hung up the phone and he couldn't help with wide smile that spread across his face and the tears that secretly spilled down his eyes. He wiped them away and composed himself before turning to his bandmates and said to them. "Well my darlings, Mary and I are going to pick up your future niece, and I will introduce you all tomorrow at my place, be there at 10am sharp." And with that Freddie left right in the middle of their rehearsal time and drove towards the foster home.

And like he said, within 20 minutes, he arrived after having or having not disobey traffic laws and he soon saw his lovely wife Mary standing outside the building with the Foster home's leading director Miss. Boynton.

Freddie parked his car and raced up towards Mary and picked her up in a strong hug and spun her around. Mary laughed as she held onto Freddie tightly and once he set her down they both turned to Mrs. Boynton and Freddie said.

"We can't thank you enough Mrs. Boynton, for making our dreams come true."

"It was no trouble. At first I was skeptical that the leading man of Queen was looking to foster one of our children, but you've proven me wrong. That even with your busy schedule, you're willing to drop everything to help support your future child." She stated.

"Of course, I would do anything for my girls." Freddie said as he pulled Mary close in a one armed hug and kissed her temple which made Mary softly giggle. "So when can we meet her?"

"If you will just follow me to my office we can discuss that matter right away." Mary and Freddie soon followed Mrs. Boynton inside and she guided them to her office.

Once they got there, Freddie and Mary sat at the two chairs in front of a large desk while Mrs. Boynton came around and sat in her leather chair.

"Now you've already expressed that you both are interested in a daughter, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct." Answered Mary.

"Now what I have to ask is what age range were you thinking? Are you both set on the younger children or the toddlers, or are you looking for someone older?"

"We honestly don't have a preference. We just want to give our future little girl all the love that she has been denied." Answered Freddie. Mrs. Boynton hummed and nodded at Freddie's statement.

"Well, there is one girl here that might fit that description. But I must warn you she's.....been through a lot." She then sat up and went to a filing cabinet and took out a file and handed it to Mary. She opened it up and both her and Freddie read it as Mrs. Boynton explained, "Her name is (y/n) (l/n). She's....been our longest foster child in all my years of working here. Came to us as a baby around 5-6months old when she was found outside our doorstep. I was actually the one to find her when I was still an assistant here before I was promoted to the head of the foster home. She's had multiple interviews and been in multiple homes but for some reason within a couple months, she's back at our step. Soon no one would look at her file the older she got. As you can see based on her birthday she's 11 now, and I'm afraid if she isn't adopted or at least in a stable foster home by 13, then I fear no one will want her. Most people never want a teenager, they always prefer the younger kids."

Hearing her story just shattered and broke Freddie's heart.

"Where is the little dear at right now?" he asked.

"Where she usually is, in her room listening to her Walkman. I can try to bring her here if you want."

"Please do, I wish to meet her."

"Okay, but don't get offended if she doesn't answer right away. She's extremely shy when it comes to these things." And with that, she left her office to go fetch (y/n). As they continued to read through her file, Mary shook her head and said.

"How can people just be so awful to a little girl?"

"People can be bastards I'm afraid my love, but that won't be us. We'll always be there to look after her." Freddie said as he took her free hand in his. They both looked at each other and Freddie then said, "Who knows, within three days we'll probably be begging for the legal adoption papers." Mary smiled and softly laughed and it was then they heard the door open and peeked in was Mrs. Boynton.

"Ms. Austin, Mr. Mercury, I'd like you both to meet (y/n) (l/n)." She then fully opened the door and standing shyly behind her was a young girl of 11 years old with (h/l) (h/c), (s/c) skin, and the brightest (e/c) you had ever seen. "Go on, it's alright." The young girl slowly stepped out from behind Mrs. Boynton and shyly looked up at both Freddie and Mary.

Both Freddie and Mary looked at each other before turning to look at (y/n) with soft eyes. They both fully stood up and they knelt down in front of her and Mary did the introductions.

"Hello (y/n), we're so glad to finally meet you in person. I'm Mary and this is my love Freddie." When (y/n) turned to Freddie, there was a sudden realization of who exactly was standing in front of her. And it made her three times embarrassed because of the shirt she was wearing.

"Hello (y/n), we're so honored to meet you. I was almost expecting to see a normal little girl but you my darling are an angel sent straight out of heaven. Who also has good taste in music," he had to tease her as he pointed out the black Queen shirt of the boys in the Bohemian Rhapsody silhouette.

"So you're a fan of Queen?" asked Mary. (Y/n) played with her fingers and looked down shyly before surprisingly nodding to answer Mary's question.

"How would you like to see where all the magic that Queen makes happen?" asked Freddie. That got (y/n) to look up at him in surprise. "But you have to agree to at least come home with Mary and I and stay with us for a while, do we have a deal?" He held out his hand and stuck his pinkie up. (Y/n) looked between him and his hand before finally reaching up and wrapping her pinkie with his as a pinkie promise sealing the deal.

After getting the forms filled out that she would be legally fostered under Mary Austin and Freddie Mercury's care, (y/n) once again left the foster home and rode with Mary back to their house with Freddie following right behind them. Along the way, Mary thought it would be best to have some girl-to-girl time on the car ride home.

So she asked (y/n) some small questions like what her favorite foods were, what she liked to drink, what type of clothing she preferred, just small little questions to make her feel comfortable. Slowly (y/n) started opening up and she even began to ask Mary some questions like how she met Freddie and Mary went on to tell her, her story of how she met the man of her life.

Once they reached their flat, Freddie and Mary helped (y/n) get settled into her room and Freddie promised her that over the weekend the two of them would go out shopping to help make the room more hers than just a guest room. Freddie introduced her to all his cats who all wanted attention from the new girl that had entered the house.

The three of them got together for dinner and they all continued to just talk with each other and get to know one another better. Little by little, (y/n) found herself speaking out more than she ever did at her previous foster homes. Maybe it was Freddie's energy or Mary's warmness, she didn't know but she felt like she could really trust these two and hopefully one day call them mum and dad.

By nightfall, both Mary and Freddie were helping (y/n) get comfortable for the night. As Mary tucked her in she asked,

"How's that? You comfortable enough?"

"Yeah, thanks Mary."

"Now if you need anything, don't hesitate to wake either of us okay dear?" Freddie said.

"Okay Freddie." Soon already feeling the motherly instinct taking over and hoping she wasn't crossing any boundaries already, Mary leaned down and kissed the top of (y/n)'s head. (Y/n) soon felt a sudden warmth come over her as for the first time she had been given a motherly kiss. The two of them walked towards the room and (y/n) spoke up. "Goodnight Freddie, night Mary."

"Good night darling." Freddie said lovingly as both he and Mary stood by the door and looked at their newest addition to the Mercury-Austin household.

"Goodnight love," Mary said with a soft smile. She then reached over and turned off the lights and soon everyone had turned in for the night.

The next morning, (y/n) woke up to find an orange tabby cat sleeping on her stomach purring like a motorboat. Along with that she heard voices just outside, and it sounded more than just Freddie and Mary's voices. Soon lightly knocking at her door, Mary peeked in and she said.

"Oh good you're awake. How did you sleep (y/n)?"

"Good." She answered. It was then she asked shyly, "Is....is someone else here?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, I tried to get Freddie to call them off telling them it was too soon but, he insisted on introducing you to the rest of the band today. Now there's no pressure in forcing you to do this, I'll just tell Freddie and the boys that you're still trying to adjust and that a visit isn't the best time, but if you do then I'll help introduce you to the boys."

"I—I wouldn't mind meeting the guys. I mean, they've came all this way just to see me. But....."

"What is it (y/n)?"

"But.....what if they don't like me? It's happened before and then I'm sent back there again." She spoke not another word and Mary didn't force her to explain, already coming up in her head with what she meant by that. So for some of the foster families she's been in, just because either guests or extended family didn't like her, they just brought her back to the foster home.

"That will never happen here. I promise, you will never get sent back to the foster home again. Do you understand love?" She looked at Mary and saw nothing but strong eyes staring back at her assuring her that that would never happen to her again, and for the first time she believed it.  "Now, do you wish to meet the rest of the lads? Or should I tell them now's not a good time?"

"I—I want to meet them." Mary softly smiled and held out her hand and she guided her out of the room and into the living room.

As they turned the corner, (y/n) was star-struck to see the rest of Queen now sitting in her new foster home. Never would she ever imagine that she would ever see Queen in a concert, let alone actually get to see them in person, hell having Freddie Mercury come into her life and choose to foster her. She kept close to Mary's side clinging onto her shirt as Mary got closer to the boys.

"Ahh there she is. My darlings, Mary and I would like to introduce the newest member of our family, this is (y/n). Our little princess. (Y/n) this is Brian, Roger and Deacy." Freddie introduced the guys to (y/n).

There was silence throughout the room until finally John took the first dive and came up to (y/n) and extended out his hand.

"It's great to finally meet you (y/n)." A soft smile soon appeared on her lips as she took John's hand and they both softly shook hands and she said shyly.

"It's an honor to meet you guys."

"Come my darling sit with me." Freddie said as he guided his new foster daughter to the couch and they both sat close to each other while Mary took the opposite side of (y/n).

"So (y/n), Fred here tells us that you're a fan of ours." Brian said. Embarrassed by that fact, (y/n) shyly hide herself in Mary's shoulder while Freddie only cooed and brought her out and held her close to him and said as he stroked down her arm soothingly.

"There's no need to be ashamed love. Like I said, it just means you have good taste in music, and that you recognize talent when you see it, for one your age."

"So (y/n), do you have a favorite song of ours?" asked Roger. That was a hard one. To (y/n), all the Queen songs were her favorite. There just wasn't one that could be on top of the other. But she knew she had to answer otherwise she feared they'd get mad at her for taking too long to answer. She only just hoped she would say the right one without offending anyone.

"I'm in love with my car." At that the boys groaned all except for Roger who was stunned.

"Guess I was mistaken." Teased Freddie. (Y/n) turned towards Mary and she asked her quietly.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, they're only joking love, they just don't like being reminded of the drama Roger gave them to get the song recorded in the first place." She whispered down to her.

"Tell me (y/n), what do you like about the song?" asked Roger dying to know why his future niece loved that song in particular.

"It.....it's the song where the drums truly shine for a song. I've always found the drums to be my favorite instrument."

"You know if you ever come by the studio, I'll be willing to give you a drum lesson. Free of charge for my favorite niece." Roger winked at her as he playfully ruffled the top of her head which made her softly laugh.

As the day went on, Brian, Roger and John soon came to see (y/n) as their niece and seeing Freddie already step into the role of fatherhood, made them realize that maybe he could be a good father to (y/n). And together with Mary by their side, it was like they were looking at the picture perfect family.

*August 1979. My POV*

For the rest of the year, living with Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin was like a dream come true. The two of them have given me all the love in the world that I was denied by my own parents. I was so afraid that I was never going to get adopted, because I only had two more years before I became a teenager, and no one wants to adopt a teenager.

But when they found me and chose to foster me, I thought that my life was going to change forever. And not only did I gain a mother and father figures, I also got three uncles who also treated me like a member of their family.

Uncle Brian, Uncle Roger and Uncle Deacy each warmed up to me and like when my dad taught me how to play the piano, they each taught me how to play the instruments that they specialized in. They taught me the best tricks of the trade when it came to playing either the guitar, the bass and even the drums.

Some days when dad would allow me, once school was over mum would drop me off at the studio and I got to actually sit in the recording studio to see just how the magic of making an album. Sometimes I was even allowed play the tambourine if the song required it so if you hear a song that has a tambourine in it that was recorded in 1979, there's a good chance that that's me playing it.

Currently it was around 9pm, dad had been back from his world tour and we were about to watch the concert that they did in Rio de Janerio, Brazil. I had gotten my homework done just in time but before the concert could begin, my mom just had to say.

"It's time for you to go to bed (y/n) darling."

"Aww Mary, can't I stay up and watch the concert with you guys?"

"Sorry love but you've got that math exam tomorrow. And you need plenty of rest for it." She stated. I quickly turned to dad hoping he'd let me stay up since it was his concert.

"Freddie can't I?" I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. He smiled and cupped my face in his hands and said.

"Better do as your mother says my darling." I pouted at him and he kissed my forehead and said, "Don't worry, there's always next time. You're on winter holiday after your exams, the next concert that comes on I promise you can stay up."

"Okay." I whined out.

"That's my girl." He kissed my forehead. I stood up from the floor and bid them both a goodnight and they did the same thing.

I got changed into my pajamas and Jerry was curled up at the foot of my bed. Ever since my first night when I came to live with Freddie and Mary, one of the cats the orange tabby had actually came into my room and curled up right on my stomach and purred happily. I had been told the name the next morning from Freddie and for the past six months, Jerry was always ready to come with me to bed whenever it was my bedtime.

It was then my brain hatched an idea. Who says I couldn't watch the concert, if they can't see me? I stroked Jerry and heard him purr and then I quietly tiptoed around the corner of the hallways that would soon lead into the living room of the flat. I angled myself far enough to where I could see the TV but not so far that mum and dad had to see me.

But as I rounded the corner I heard my mum say.

"I've known there's something up Freddie. Just tell me what is it?" her voice sounded fearful almost as if she was scared to know the truth. There was silence in the room until dad finally spoke.

"I think I'm bisexual." My eyes widened. Now I'm not daft nor stupid to know the different kinds of sexuality. Back at the foster home, there were a couple of boys who got picked on because they had posters hanging in their room of actors instead of actresses, and due to that the other foster kids bullied them.

Calling them fags or freaks and of course none of the assistant caretakers really did much about it. In fact some of them didn't even talk to those kids anymore and would point out to some of the potential parents that those boys weren't 'right in the head' because of their sexual preference.

"Freddie, you gay." my mother asked. He remained silent.

I saw my mum walk towards the window seeming to be upset while my dad stayed on the couch.

"I've known for a while now I just never wanted to admit it. It's funny really this is what I always settled for. I love you but. I love you Mary but I need space. I love you Mary but I've met someone else.....And now I love you but I'm.....and this is the hardest because it's not even your fault." She turned towards my dad before turning away from him. It was then I saw her reach out and touch her wedding finger to take off the ring.

"No. No you promised me you wouldn't take it off!" I heard my dad's voice quiver with pure sorrow as he stood before mum.

"What do you want from me Freddie?" she asked. My dad just kept his eyes on my mum before he finally choked out.

"Almost everything." My mum cupped his cheek and I heard her whisper.

"Your life is going to be very difficult." And with that she walked out of the flat without another word. He stood there in utter despair and he looked so broken. I slowly stood up and as I rounded the corner, the floor squeaked under my foot. Freddie turned to see me standing there with the same sad eyes as he had.

As he now stared at me, I knew we didn't have to speak to each other to ask how much I had heard, because I heard enough. He slowly walked towards me with tears ready to spill out of his eyes and I walked up to him before he sunk to his knees and I wrapped my arms around him while he did the same.

And for the first time ever, I had seen the great Freddie Mercury be brought to the ultimate low point.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my darling....I'm sorry you heard that....please forgive me." He sobbed out praying that I would forgive him. I just held onto him tighter burying my fingers in his hair as for the first time I had called him.

"Daddy, are you okay?" He sniffled and sobbed out.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'm okay darling we're gonna be okay. We're okay." I kissed his head and held onto him for the remainder of the night.

*1981*

It was now the summer of 1981 and things were certainly changing. Ever since they split up, dad had taken full custody over me but he still wanted Mary to be a part of my life and allow visitation rights, so that way I would still have a mother figure in my life.

With the help of Uncle Roger, dad has us move out of the flat and into a bigger house that felt more like a mansion than anything else. My new room was like fitting three master bedrooms in one. Even the cats had their own rooms in the new house. With the changes of the new house there was also changes in lifestyle too.

My dad's physical appearance changed as he now sported a tache and his hair was more sleeked back and shorter than usual. There was also some signs of him and Paul getting closer together. Hell they were practically starting to look like each other, wherever my dad was, you can bet all the money in the world that Paul was right there hanging over my dad like a shadow. And I feared for the worse, because anytime I would try to even talk to my dad, Paul would always take him away from me.

Like one time when I needed help with an astronomy project for science class, I needed dad to help me with the hot glue gun but the second I approached him, Paul came right up and had said and I quote.

"Freddie, the caterers need to go over again on what to serve for the party next week. There's also the matters of the performers coming and we need to check the guest list again." With that dad had said that he would get back with me shortly and help me out.

But shortly went on for almost half the day. In the end I called up the one person who I knew would be interested and be willing to help out with a project like this. And within ten minutes, Uncle Brian arrived at the house and he helped me build my astronomy project of Sally's comet. All the while telling me all that he knew of the cosmos since he was studying astrophysics.

Once the project was done and dad still didn't come back home with Paul, uncle Brian worried for my safety being left home alone so he told me to get my overnight bag and that I would be staying the night over with him. He phoned Mary to tell her where I would be in case dad ever did decide to come back, lord knows when though, and tell him that I was being kept safe.

The sad thing is, I always had my overnight bag packed and stored away ready to go. Because ever since Paul came into the picture and taking my dad god knows where, and with all the parties they would host, I'd always stay over at either Uncle Brian's, Uncle Roger's or Uncle Deacy's place, depending on who was available.

I'd always feel guilty going over because I feel like I was a burden to not only them, but their family as well. Of course each of my uncles would tell me that it was no trouble and that their house was my house, that I was welcome anytime day or night.

Now back to the present; the current big costume party was tomorrow and I was currently getting the mail. Of course most of it contained confirmation of the invitations sent out, some bills, letters from Miami but then a manila envelope caught my attention. I turned it over and it read out.

LEAGAL ADOPTION PAPERS FROM CENTRAL LONDON'S FOSTER HOME.

For weeks now whenever Paul wasn't in the picture, I had asked dad when the official agreement to adopt me would happen. Because legally I'm still a foster child being fostered by Freddie Mercury. He had told and reassured me that it would happen soon, it's just with work and all he's been busy.

But I guess finally he managed to squeeze some time and ask for the official documents for him to sign.

"(Y/n) darling come up here won't you?" I could hear his voice echo from upstairs.

"Coming dad!" I said as I quickly set the mail aside and raced up the slight-spiral stairway and met my dad in his personal dressing room where he kept all his concert and party clothes. All the extravagant and over-the-top stuff like his kingly robe and crown, his military uniform, things like that.

"Ahh there's my girl. Come in, come in it just finally arrived today and I want to see you in it." He said as he handed me a neatly tied box. I took it from him and untied the pink lace knot and opened it up and pushed away the packing paper inside to reveal the top bust portion of a dress.

"Dad I—I don't know about this. You know how I feel about parties." I tried to tell him but he told me.

"Oh come off it darling, you will have fun tomorrow night I just know it. Now please I had this dress specifically made for you, please at least just try it on for me." He gave me his best puppy dog face and I agreed to at least try it on. "That's my best girl." He said as he pecked my cheek and gestured for me to go behind the Japanese screen doors.

Once I was behind the changing screen, I fully took the dress out of the box. It was a beautiful light blue ballgown with a sweetheart outline and exposed from the back, a darker shade of light blue sash was tied around the hips of the dress. Inside the box there was also very long light blue gloves that looked like they would go up to my mid-bicep.

I placed the gloves aside and started to get out of my daily clothes and put on the dress. Once I had it on, I took the gloves and put them on trying my best to have it rolled up past my elbows till they went to the halfway point of my bicep just like I thought they would.

When I was finally dressed and had adjusted the dress, I slowly came out from behind the screen doors and the second my dad saw me in the dress, I could see tears in his eyes.

"Oh.....my darling. Look at you, you're as pretty as a magnolia in May. But something's still missing...wait I know." He soon took something out from his back pocket, a small jewelry box and opened it up to reveal a beautiful silver necklace with a diamond shaped, blue gem at the center. He came up to me and placed it around my neck and said as we now stood before his full length mirror. "There, now you look complete. For behind every good king, is an even greater Princess at his side, and my little darling is going to be the fairest of them all." He said as he now placed on top of my head a silver princess tiara.

"Freddie! Freddie mail's come in and....." Paul soon stood before us and the minute he saw me, his body tensed up and he said. "(Y/n)."

"Paul dear doesn't my little darling look absolutely beautiful?" Freddie proclaimed as he wrapped his arms around me, for that move I smirked at Paul telepathically telling him that my dad was praising me for once and not him.

"Indeed she does." I could tell he was pissed as he strained out to even agree with my dad. He then straightened himself out and handed my dad the mail but I noticed that the folder that held the adoption papers wasn't among the pile.

"Excuse me Paul, where is the manila envelope?" I asked.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked as he glared down at me but making sure not to let my dad see the annoyance clearly written on his face.

"There was a manila folder in the mail today. I would know because I got the mail just a moment ago before dad called me up here. So where is it you prick!?!"

"(Y/n)! There's no need to be crude to Paul. It probably slipped out of his hand or is still lying on the counter where you left them. Now I want you to apologize to Paul right now."

"But—"

"Now!" my dad ordered me. I turned to Paul who wore a smug grin on his face. I turned to dad and he only just looked at me, ordering for me to apologize.

"I'm sorry Paul, you're not a prick". Says sarcastically.

"There, now that that's done. Paul and I need to go over some last minute plans for the party. And I expect to see you in that dress tomorrow my darling." And with that dad guided Paul down the hallways leaving me in my dad's dressing room alone.

From that afternoon into the next day I looked high and low for those papers but it was like they had disappeared out of thin air. Finally it was an hour till party time. I was now all dressed up and my dad was doing my hair and makeup. As we sat down before my white vanity makeup set, I had barely recognized myself all dolled up like this. Dad continued to give my hair some waves with the curling iron, and then once he was satisfied he said.

"Oh my beautiful darling, while I've always said no one could be more beautiful than I, you truly outshine me right now. Everyone is going to love you." I didn't respond verbally back but only gave him a soft smile and a slight nod. "Well we best get going darling, the guests are waiting for us." My dad soon left my room leaving me alone once again.

"I look like a frilled up American Barbie doll, why did I agree to this?" I took a deep breath in before exhaling out. There was no turning back now, and I'd hate to be pestered by my dad about ditching the party tomorrow morning, or have Paul come in and putting words into my dad's head like he's always done and make me look like the bad guy.

I left my room and slowly walked towards the staircase. Already the party had been in full swing for about an hour and a half. Lord knows how many people were here already, not to mention my anxiety was through the roof. I took a few more deep breaths and tried to calm myself down.

Slowly step by step as I gripped onto the railing with my gloved hand, I walked down the steps to hear 'Crazy little thing called love' was now blasting through the speakers. Already hundreds of people were lining up along the halls in either party suits or costumes of various things or types of people.

I tried to weave my way through the crowd but I kept getting shoved or pushed around. I would hop up and down hoping to spot my dad or at least someone that I knew so that way I wouldn't feel alone in my own house. Suddenly fire shot out in front of me and I jumped back fearfully as people applauded for the fire eaters that just performed.

"Dad? Excuse...excuse me dad? Dad where are you?" I called out but due to my anxiety, it only came out as faint which was easily drowned out by the music. Soon the music suddenly changed and the people around me cheered loudly as they began to frantically dance and jump around.

Due to the dancing now, it made going through the house even more difficult. Suddenly I felt someone slam into me and I was knocked into the snack table which sent some of the food and drinks spilling out everywhere. Champagne now stained my dress and around my face and hair was hummus and god knows what other dips there were.

"Ahh my new spring dress! Why don't you watch where you're going you little brat!" a strange woman yelled at me as I saw that some of the marinara sauce for the shrimp on her dress. She glared down at me with hateful eyes before walking away hearing her calling me names, just like the names some of my other foster parents in the past used to call me.

Tears filled my eyes and I could barely pull myself up from the ground as I felt like huddling up and cry my eyes out. Where was dad at? Why didn't he wait for me at the foot of the steps? Why.....

"(Y/n)?" my head shot up and I must have a Guardian angel watching over me or something for coming up to me were my uncles.

"What happened? Are you okay?" asked Uncle Roger. Since Uncle Deacy was the closest to me, I spoke not a word but just embraced him as tight as I could as I wept hysterically. I cried and cried and cried until I felt like my heart was going to sink and my voice would crack. I felt him wrap his arms around me and he tried to comfort me as best he could by rubbing my back, stroking my wet hair, and whispering in my ear.

"Shhh, shh. It's alright love, it's alright. I'm here. I'm right here." I felt him place a kiss at the top of my head as well as my temple but soon everything just tuned out, all I wanted was to just disappear inside my Uncle's embrace.

[ask-elementalhermitcraft]

Crickets

[1.5k words]

[Angst/hurt]

[Evil Xisuma/Z, With minor mentions of: Joe Hills, Docm77, RentheDog]

--

Xisuma woke up.

It was 12:28 PM, a clear sunny day. He checked by clicking a button on the helmet that was next to him.

Crickets were chirping in the background as he sat up in his bed, stretching.

the mountain base that he lived in was surprisingly very comfortable. It was cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

He hated to sleep in late by accident, but today he’ll let himself slide. Simply because it was such a good weathered day.

The man slid the helmet he wore over his head, prepared for the day that was ahead of him, and walked out to fly away to the central mesa biome.

He landed lightly into the district; Xisuma looked around, searching for any of his fellow hermits in sight. It was too quiet. He could hear ringing in his ears.

He heard commotion to the left of him. Towards one of the emptier spaces of the central hub.

Xisuma approaches and pushes through the small gathered crowd.

The sight was not pretty.

A barely recognizable body was on the ground, covered in blood, the cloth they once wore was ripped in claw-like marks, alongside with multiple stab wounds…

And what seemed like flowers. Especially roses spilling from his mouth.

Their once bright red shirt was covered in moss and vines with thorns. Someone was crying beside them, they were turned around. But Xisuma could tell who it was.

It was a good friend of the victim.

Xisuma bowed them next to their friend, he said something to him to comfort him.

The friend begged him to rewind.

He stared back in shock.

“You know I can’t do that!” He remembers.

“That’s a lie! You can bring him back! P-please… You have brought other people back before, why not this time?!” The crying person screamed, grabbing Xisuma by his collar. The others stared in silence, shifting uncomfortably.

“Iskall. Things aren’t that simple. There are things out of my control, I’m not a god.” He told him as much as he told himself. As much as he was tempted to rewind, he knew he can’t. Xisuma doesn’t know what he’ll be facing, he was afraid. Afraid of the unknown.

He was thrown harshly against the ground, it hurt, sure. But nothing compared to the Swedish man that was crying in anger, instead of grief.

He stormed off, the other hermits tried to follow him, to plead and stop him. But he roughly threw ice spikes at them, pushing them back. Even injuring them.

A southern man in a blue shirt came jogging to him, helped him up and said something in his soft, comforting voice. And had said something about scheduling a meeting about this soon.

Xisuma hid behind a smile. Sure, he had said. Before turning back to the charred body.

The person they needed the most in this situation is dead.

If he was here, he would probably crack a joke or two, to brighten the mood. Despite how solemn the mood would be, it would still feel better.

He spent the day sitting at his base, instead of working on any projects. He simply sat there, holding his head.

These rivalries were never meant to be like this.

Night came.

Xisuma found himself in the shopping district mesa again, in the same spot he was in this morning.

The body has long been removed, probably carried off by the other ice wielder to have some kind of funeral.

He had a feeling.

A horrible one.

The meeting has been scheduled; most of the hermits were here. But the lightning wielder was nowhere to be seen, one half of the Ice duo was missing as well.

A burning sensation scorched into his stomach.

He had a hunch of what might have- no. What happened.

The helmeted lad stormed out of the small makeshift meeting room, leaving the hermits dumbfounded and confused.

There was a large ice spike, directly outside of the building.

It was definitely not here before.

The air was freezing. The surrounding plants were all frosted over; despite it being the middle of summer. Trails of leaves scattered.

Yelling was heard in the background.

Xisuma rushed to the source, the area was completely frozen over. Buildings suddenly overgrown with vines and plants. In the center, the ice wielder held the creeper up by his neck. The green-skinned man hissed, his skin slowly becoming bluer over time from the cold. Frost crackles and spread from the mob’s neck.

It was too late.

Just as he was about to step in and approach them, the dreadful death messages appeared.

Two of them.

>Docm77 was slain by Iskall85

>Iskall85 was suffocated by Docm77

How does he know it’s not normal death?

Their body didn’t disappear.

Their items didn’t fall to the ground like normal.

It was just there. Cold. Dead bodies.

These were the first deaths Xisuma had witnessed himself. And will not be the last…

        …

         ..

         .

      ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

      ——

Xisuma woke up.

It was 10:28 PM, a clear sunny day. He checked by clicking a button on the helmet that was next to him. He could sleep for another two hours. But maybe not.

Crickets were chirping in the background as he sat up in his bed-

His head was ringing.

He pushed himself out of the bed, and went to grab his helmet--

Didn’t he just do this in his dream?

He pushed the feelings away. Refusing to let the memories bother him.

But it’s good to be cautious anyways.

It was two hours earlier than when he woked up in his dream. Xisuma quickly stood up, leaving his bed unmade and messy. He grabbed the elytra that sat on the crafting banch and took off.

He has to get to him.

Xisuma flew to the shopping district, circling around to hopefully spot the weredog. He spotted him near the log shop they had shared. He landed in a hurry, catching the other off in surprise.

“Hey X? What’s up- why do you look so-”

“Come with me.” He heard himself say, and pulled his friend by his arm.

He was pratically running, he didn’t care Ren was tumbling, he just had to get him out. Right now before it was too late.

“Who’s the little bird that ratted out my plan?” A voice with a hissing undertone spoke. Xisuma stopped dead in his tracks, the weredog bumping into him as a result.

It was the creeper man himself.

“Doc.” He whispered. “Please reconsider.”

“Do you think your words can stop me, Xisuma?” He heard the man said, before something cold stabbed him through the chest. Right through his armor.

He collasped.

Xisuma breathed heavily and fast. His vision was blurry, the last thing he saw.

Was Ren getting stabbed. Pratically chocked by plants.

And with the blue summer sky, I hear the crickets cry

And fall right back into another dark sleep

>Xisuma was slain by Docm77

>Renthedog suffocated by Docm77

      ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

     ——

      ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

     ——

     ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

    ——

     ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

    ——

     ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

    ——

     ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

      ——

      ——

...resetting…

Reset complete.

     ——

…

..

.

It has been.

So.

Damn.

Long.

Xisuma woke up in his white bed once again. Countless times.

Maybe he should just stop getting up.

He has refused to get up for the last few glitches. Just watching the death messages scroll by in his helmet, and only to find himself to wake up again despite him sitting in bed just a few seconds ago.

He picks up his sword that is by his bed. Dragging it along the cold stone floor.

The crickets are singing loudly. The heat’s mocking him, as ringing in his head got worse and worse.

Nothing remain in his head, other than the though to solve the issue. And just to get it over with.

He finds Doc by the edge of the shopping district.

He strikes his sword down, straight down the other’s shoulders.

Spraying a shade of red, bright red.

Doc said something before he had drop to the ground, but Xisuma did not hear.

>Docm77 was slain by Xisuma

The helmetless man saw Ren in the distinct, he pulled his bow backwards.

Lucky for him, Ren never has armor on.

He let lose of his hold on the arrow, it flew across the air. Striking the man straight in the chest.

>Renthedog was slain by Xisuma

Pulling his diamond sword out from the creeper’s chest, shaking off some of the blood. And began to drag it along the ground once more.

“Monsters!” They called him. Those familar, happy faces now twisted with pain and fear.

Xisuma didn’t hear.

It was almost like he was on autopilot.

He came upon the last of the hermits, with a detached robot arm in his hands.

Joe said something.

Just like Doc.

We all just come full circle, huh?

He pushed his worn out sword down.

>Joehillssays was slain by EvilXisuma

…

..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

…

…

Item deleted.

[emeraldtawny]

I dunno tbh, maybe life said that they have to have the fluffy buns to balance out their weirdness(?) idk man, BUT ALL OF THEM ARE PRECIOUS BABIES(suitors and pets ehem) I WUV THEM, THEYRE SOFT BITCHES, i also love the fact that they’re eating all the time. Food. Yes, ver gud. AND I AGREE WITH BIRBS. So poofy. So round. Must tuch gently. Must protecc. Tbh let me just protect everyone of them because they all probably had a hard time fjkskskskskkskskskks, i wanna hug them D: -Screm-Anon

I think it’s a cloaking mechanism. they distract with cute bunnies before you can see the cage and the shackles comin right for ya >o

Soft bitches......yes...just......YES. Napo, Mozart, Vincent and Isaac are perfect soft bitches and must be respected as such (Dazai and Arthur are too big a sluts to qualify, sorry lads).

And I do appreciate the food, especially the Dutch Bros and their fucking pancakes those two make me hungry...hey, get your mind out of the gutter rudkfjbdgn

and finishing up on the BIGGEST mood of the day!!! I don’t know how much you know about the game anon, but this is literally angst central. They make us sad but then balance it out by giving us juuuust shy of R18 spicy goodness. Good trade-off, v much appreciated ^w^~

[ao3feed-stucky]

by omfglookitsme

Those books lied to him.

This wasn't the hero's ending he was promised as a child.

Words: 1695, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, infinity war can kiss my entire ass, like proper angst lads, Character Death, welcome to sad central, the bois can't catch a break, Steve's Perspective, Steve's Pov, Spoilers, Infinity War spoilers, like dude this has one big ol' spoiler

[ao3feed-buckybarnes]

The Only Home I've Known is Ashes Now

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2GAyG4H

by omfglookitsme

Those books lied to him.

This wasn't the hero's ending he was promised as a child.

Words: 1695, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, infinity war can kiss my entire ass, like proper angst lads, Character Death, welcome to sad central, the bois can't catch a break, Steve's Perspective, Steve's Pov, Spoilers, Infinity War spoilers, like dude this has one big ol' spoiler

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2GAyG4H

[privateistanbultour]

Manchester United & Galatasaray, 1993

They almost gave a bit more. “In the dressing room Eric went crazy,” says Keane in his autobiography. “While the rest of us just wanted to get out of there, he was determined to go back outside to sort out the rogue cop who’d been wielding his truncheon. Eric was a big, strong lad. He was serious. He insisted he was going to kill ‘that fucker’. It took the combined efforts of the [assistant] manager, Brian Kidd, and a few of the players to restrain him. Normally I wouldn’t have backed off a fight, but even I wasn’t up for this one. There were a lot of Turks out there!”

Ferguson said that “the police were even more frightening than the fans”. Compared with this hellish fury, United’s players would have taken a woman scorned any day. It did not end there. The bus was bricked on the way back to the hotel; one shattered a window where Bruce had been resting his head. “If it had smashed through I’d have been dead,” he said. “That would have just about summed it up.”

All the while there were groups of United fans on their way back to Manchester, most or all of whom had done nothing wrong. Hundreds of others were battered around the city the night before the match. Some were dumped in the Bayrampasa jail, made notorious by the film Midnight Express. One group of fans did not get home for a month. Their experiences were inevitably, miserably, covered up by the authorities.

It took a long time for the anger to go away. “One only has to watch the pre-second-leg footage from the United video to see that the lack of what we considered to be proper civilisation in Turkey created such angst in the United team that what followed was scarcely sport as we know it,” wrote Richard Kurt in the excellent United! Despatches From Old Trafford. “What they did to our fans alone merited their exclusion from the cup as a nation unfit to receive visitors.”

When Ferguson was interviewed soon after for United’s new VHS magazine, he was asked if he was glad to be out of Turkey. “Och, you bet. I’ll no’ be going back!” In fact he went back a year later, when United again drew 0-0 in very different circumstances, and will be returning again in November.

The horror movie of 1993 became a vital part of United’s European education. Gary Neville, who was brought on for the last few minutes to deliver some long throws, said he “learned more in 10 minutes than I had in the previous two years”. It was not only the inexperienced who picked up new tricks; the whole club learned about man-to-man marking, the need for central-midfield discipline, not to mention the alien environments they would encounter on their quest to lift the giant trophy. United didn’t only go to hell; they also went to school. But you’d have been a brave man to accentuate the positive in the United dressing room on the night of 3 November 1993.

[istanbulwild]

Manchester United & Galatasaray, 1993

They almost gave a bit more. “In the dressing room Eric went crazy,” says Keane in his autobiography. “While the rest of us just wanted to get out of there, he was determined to go back outside to sort out the rogue cop who’d been wielding his truncheon. Eric was a big, strong lad. He was serious. He insisted he was going to kill ‘that fucker’. It took the combined efforts of the [assistant] manager, Brian Kidd, and a few of the players to restrain him. Normally I wouldn’t have backed off a fight, but even I wasn’t up for this one. There were a lot of Turks out there!”

Ferguson said that “the police were even more frightening than the fans”. Compared with this hellish fury, United’s players would have taken a woman scorned any day. It did not end there. The bus was bricked on the way back to the hotel; one shattered a window where Bruce had been resting his head. “If it had smashed through I’d have been dead,” he said. “That would have just about summed it up.”

All the while there were groups of United fans on their way back to Manchester, most or all of whom had done nothing wrong. Hundreds of others were battered around the city the night before the match. Some were dumped in the Bayrampasa jail, made notorious by the film Midnight Express. One group of fans did not get home for a month. Their experiences were inevitably, miserably, covered up by the authorities.

It took a long time for the anger to go away. “One only has to watch the pre-second-leg footage from the United video to see that the lack of what we considered to be proper civilisation in Turkey created such angst in the United team that what followed was scarcely sport as we know it,” wrote Richard Kurt in the excellent United! Despatches From Old Trafford. “What they did to our fans alone merited their exclusion from the cup as a nation unfit to receive visitors.”

When Ferguson was interviewed soon after for United’s new VHS magazine, he was asked if he was glad to be out of Turkey. “Och, you bet. I’ll no’ be going back!” In fact he went back a year later, when United again drew 0-0 in very different circumstances, and will be returning again in November.

The horror movie of 1993 became a vital part of United’s European education. Gary Neville, who was brought on for the last few minutes to deliver some long throws, said he “learned more in 10 minutes than I had in the previous two years”. It was not only the inexperienced who picked up new tricks; the whole club learned about man-to-man marking, the need for central-midfield discipline, not to mention the alien environments they would encounter on their quest to lift the giant trophy. United didn’t only go to hell; they also went to school. But you’d have been a brave man to accentuate the positive in the United dressing room on the night of 3 November 1993.

[istanbulgaybars]

Manchester United & Galatasaray, 1993

They almost gave a bit more. “In the dressing room Eric went crazy,” says Keane in his autobiography. “While the rest of us just wanted to get out of there, he was determined to go back outside to sort out the rogue cop who’d been wielding his truncheon. Eric was a big, strong lad. He was serious. He insisted he was going to kill ‘that fucker’. It took the combined efforts of the [assistant] manager, Brian Kidd, and a few of the players to restrain him. Normally I wouldn’t have backed off a fight, but even I wasn’t up for this one. There were a lot of Turks out there!”

Ferguson said that “the police were even more frightening than the fans”. Compared with this hellish fury, United’s players would have taken a woman scorned any day. It did not end there. The bus was bricked on the way back to the hotel; one shattered a window where Bruce had been resting his head. “If it had smashed through I’d have been dead,” he said. “That would have just about summed it up.”

All the while there were groups of United fans on their way back to Manchester, most or all of whom had done nothing wrong. Hundreds of others were battered around the city the night before the match. Some were dumped in the Bayrampasa jail, made notorious by the film Midnight Express. One group of fans did not get home for a month. Their experiences were inevitably, miserably, covered up by the authorities.

It took a long time for the anger to go away. “One only has to watch the pre-second-leg footage from the United video to see that the lack of what we considered to be proper civilisation in Turkey created such angst in the United team that what followed was scarcely sport as we know it,” wrote Richard Kurt in the excellent United! Despatches From Old Trafford. “What they did to our fans alone merited their exclusion from the cup as a nation unfit to receive visitors.”

When Ferguson was interviewed soon after for United’s new VHS magazine, he was asked if he was glad to be out of Turkey. “Och, you bet. I’ll no’ be going back!” In fact he went back a year later, when United again drew 0-0 in very different circumstances, and will be returning again in November.

The horror movie of 1993 became a vital part of United’s European education. Gary Neville, who was brought on for the last few minutes to deliver some long throws, said he “learned more in 10 minutes than I had in the previous two years”. It was not only the inexperienced who picked up new tricks; the whole club learned about man-to-man marking, the need for central-midfield discipline, not to mention the alien environments they would encounter on their quest to lift the giant trophy. United didn’t only go to hell; they also went to school. But you’d have been a brave man to accentuate the positive in the United dressing room on the night of 3 November 1993.