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rainandhotchocolate · 4 years

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Blackout - Part 7

A/N lelel it’s here!! I am so fucking TIRED but exams are done and I’m on holidays and thank you for all the love and good luck wishes!! Here’s hoping I passed hehe. Anyways, here’s a long chapter for you - I think it’s 2.5k ish so I hope tht partially makes up for the supreme lateness!! Love y’all xx

Part 7

“You ready?” Lily stood behind Y/N in the mirror, straightening the front of Y/N’s robes.

“I think so,” Y/N took in a deep breath, spinning around to face her, “You know we’d make a great couple.”

Lily snorted, “Someone needs to take care of James.”

“Ahh true love,” Y/N laughed, playing with the front of her robes, “Did I really wear this every day?”

“I promise I didn’t prank you for your first day back at work,” Lily replied, “And yes, I think Sirius might have some more at you- his as well.”

Lily cleared her throat awkwardly, ushering Y/N out of her room and down the stairs to where James was making scrambled eggs. Y/N rolled her eyes at Lily’s uncomfortable expression.

“I’m not going to melt if you say anything about Sirius and me, Lils.”

“I’m sorry, I just keep forgettin- no sorry I mean-“

“Breathe Lily,” Y/N sat down, pulling a plate of eggs towards her, “Look, I know it’s weird, for both of us, but I can’t panic every time I hear about my past relationship.”

Y/N didn’t miss the look that passed between Lily and James but she ignored it, digging into her food.

“Excited to head back to work?” James sat down in front of her, wiggling is eyebrows.

“I mean, I’ve forgotten a fair amount, I’m a bit worried I’ve forgotten how to, you know, exist in the world.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lily knocked her elbow, “And I’m coming to meet you for lunch anyway so you have an excuse to ditch any corporate gits.”

“And you know that when there’s silence in a conversation you’re meant to screech at the top of your lungs right? Common Ministry courtesy.”

Y/N glared at James, “One day I’m going to fall for one of your stupid comments and you’ll be very sorry.”

“I’ll be cackling you mean.”

“No no, you will be vomiting slugs for a week.”

James put his hands up in mock surrender.

“I promise to avoid anything you might actually believe.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Ok, come on come on, I don’t want you to be late on your second first day,” Lily stood up, grabbing Y/N’s bag and hauling it over her shoulder. Y/N stood up, stretching out her back and smiling.

“Let’s go.”

Y/N felt her stomach flipping over as Lily led her down the backstreets of London to the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry. She was grateful that they took her back, though she had a feeling that someone had had a little discussion with Dumbledore, given she’d received an odd letter congratulating her on her job just minutes before the Ministry owl came through.

Lily opened the bright red phone booth, pulling Y/N inside. Ok deep breath, you got this job once for a reason, you can’t have changed that much.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts when she felt the jolt of the elevator as it began sinking into the ground. Lily handed her a name tag and gave her a steady smile. The elevator opened, revealing the large tiled lobby to the Ministry of Magic. It was larger than Y/N had remembered, a looming hallway with large ceilings and deep blue tiled archways leading into deep sectors of the building. The grand fountain sat at the end of the hall, golden statues of a centaur and a wizard joined together and surrounded by crystal blue water.

Lily led her down the hallway, heels clicking loudly and back straight and tall. Fellow witches and wizards slipped in and out of the hall through passageways and the floo network, each holding large briefcases and papers, all looking extremely busy.

Lily slipped quickly into an elevator at the end of the hall, pulling Y/N inside with her.

“You’re level 6,” Lily whispered into her ear, having to lean passed a small witch with grey hair and a stare that Y/N thought could kill a man on the spot.

“Do I need to sign in?” Y/N tried to lean back but curled away as the witch turned her gaze onto Y/N.

“No, Salitus said to go straight to his office.”

“Right.” Y/N remembered the name, furrowing her brows to try to see if any details came to her. A weird feeling came over her, making her heart pump harder in her chest and she pulled out of her thoughts, focusing on the man in front of her instead.

“Level 6,” the elevator voice called, and Lily pulled Y/N out of the elevator, following two men who were talking in hushed whispers down the hallway to their left.

“You ok?” Lily had turned to her but expression changed quickly when she saw Y/N’s face.

“Yeah, I just… I feel weird, I don’t know, I think I’m nervous.”

Lily bit her lip, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand.

“You don’t have to come in today you know? We can just go for a walk around London, try again tomorrow?”

“No,” Y/N steeled herself, “I’m just being silly, let’s go.”

****

Sirius placed the large box on James’ counter. When he looked up to meet James and Peter’s eye he saw them grimacing at him.

“Yeah nice and subtle guys.” Sirius huffed, “Making me feel real good about the whole bringing back my ex-girlfriend’s stuff who I never broke up with.”

“Not really sure what to do in this situation,” Peter tried to hide his expression better but it didn’t work.

“Yeah, normally your break ups entailed more firewhiskey and running around in the woods.”

“That would be much more entertaining than this version.” Sirius sat down at the table and pushed the box towards James. “She’s gone to work?”

“Yep, left a few hours ago.”

“How… you know, did she seem?”

“I think nervous, but excited to be going back to something she remembered.” James grabbed the box, lifting over and onto the stairs towards the bedrooms.

“I can’t believe she can only remember to that job.” Peter shook her head, “I mean that’s before she even met us.”

“Thanks for that reminder.”

“Ok, ok you we need to get you out of the house.” James watched Sirius who had placed his head into his hands. “I don’t like mopey Sirius.”

“I’ll try to be happier for you,” Sirius rolled his eyes but James continued.

“Come on, we’ll come to yours tonight, I’ll bring drinks and I’ll get Remus to bring back the cloak.”

“I don’t know man, I kind of want to be alone.”

“Alone never ends well with you,” Peter snorted. James elbowed him sharply in the ribs and he groaned.

“Where is Remus anyway?”

“Another mission for Dumbledore,” James huffed, “At least this one is just for a day, apparently Dumbledore wants him to go for a whole month.”

“A month? What on earth is he going to do for that long?” Peter furrowed his brow, unpacking a box of biscuits and handing them around.

“Gather intel? Be killed by feral werewolves?” Sirius scowled, “I don’t like this.”

“I know, Remus looked ragged the last time I saw him.”

“What time does he get back tonight?”

“Around 8, I think.” James crunched down into a biscuit shaking his head, “I’ll be so mad if he’s hurt.”

“Alright mum,” Sirius laughed at his solemn face, “but ok fine, get him to come over when he gets back. And you better actually bring something to drink.”

“Deal.”

****

Lily squeezed Y/N’s hand as she entered Salitus’ office. He was a tall man with lanky limbs and dark auburn hair. Y/N had a faint memory of him as her manager, but nothing concrete. He smiled at her as she entered.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you, we were so glad to hear you had gotten out of St Mungo’s.” Salitus shook her hand and directed Y/N to a brown leather seat in front of his desk. The room was covered in photos of animals flying in and out frames and salamanders spouting fire towards the room.

“Yes, definitely good to be back up and in the real world,” Y/N smiled at him, trying to look light and bubbly, not like the deep pit of confusion she was feeling.

“We’re very happy to have you back and have Lauren ready to help train you back up again if you need support.” Salitus pulled open a drawer to his left and took out a stack of papers, hitting them on the desk to bring them together. “There are a few things we need you to sign, all the same as when you first joined us, just need to make sure that you’re across the same privacy agreements and all that boring stuff.”

He flashed her another smile and Y/N fought the urge to frown at his teeth gleaming slightly in the light of the office.

“That’s totally fine, I can get to them first thing.”

“Perfect! Well I’ll let you get to your office and get a feel for everything and Lauren will drop in soon to get you up to speed. Send me a note if you need anything at all.” Salitus handed her the papers and stood up, Y/N following his lead and getting up quickly from the leather chair.

“Great, it was good to see you again.”

“You as well.” Y/N nodded to him and followed him out towards the door before he closed it behind her. Lily was still waiting outside reading, putting down her book as Y/N approached.

“Everything all good?”

“Yeah I think so,” Y/N shrugged, “Just have to sign some papers and can head back to my office – also I have an office? I thought I shared an office.”

“I think you moved into your own office before you q- the accident,” Lily stumbled, beginning to walk down the corridor. Y/N narrowed her eyes but let Lily lead her further into the department. “This is you.”

Y/N’s name was emblazoned on the front of a large black door towards the end of the corridor.

“Weird.”

“Yeah,” Lily laughed, “I would love to have my name on something.”

“Have a kid and name it Lily,” Y/N grinned at her, “Are you coming in?”

“No, I’ve got to head into work for a bit but I’ll see you tonight?”

“See you then.”

***

“Open the door Sirius!” James banged on the door to his apartment, bottle of firewhiskey in hand. The door swung open to reveal Remus, his eyes looking sunken and black but he was smiling at him all the same.

“Welcome to the house of depression.”

“Oh good, love a warm welcome.” James slid past him and into the apartment. It was covered in art and framed posters of gigs Sirius and Y/N had been too, the furniture clearly picked out by Y/N as it wasn’t black or second-hand.

Remus grinned at him and followed James back towards the living room where music was blasting and Peter was watching Sirius set up an elaborate line of shots with his wand out and ready.

“You ready for a new game!?” Sirius looked up when James entered, clearly already tipsy, his eyes flashing mischievously.

“Hit me.” James sat on the couch and passed him another bottle of whiskey to add to his stash next to the table.

“We’re doing proper firewhiskey,” Sirius flicked his wand so that one of the shots lit on fire. “With a twist.”

“More of a twist?” Remus snorted.

“I’m gonna place these around the rooms and we need to try to apparate directly in front of them.”

“What happens if we miss?”

“The rest of us gets to decide a punishment.” Sirius grinned.

“Sounds good to me,” James grinned in response, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do it.”

Three hours later the four boys had drunk two bottles of firewhiskey, Peter was dressed in his underwear and Remus’ hair was singed with fire. James had had to streak down a the road outside Sirius’ apartment at one point as well and was sure the lady downstairs was going to hit on him the next time she passed.

Sirius was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling fan spinning slowly. He’d apparated perfectly in front of each shot and had already out drunk all three of them. Remus was flicking through Sirius’ records, calling out each one he liked to see if the rest of them wanted it playing.

“I’ve told you three time, it’s New Order or nothing.” James called from the bathroom, poking his head around the doorway.

“Alright alright, putting it on now.” Remus flipped the record, placing it on the player and placing the needle down and turning up the volume.

Blue Monday blasted through the speakers and Remus went over to Sirius, still on the floor.

“Come on, you’ve got to get up for Blue Monday.” Remus kicked his feet, stumbling sideways slightly. James had come back into the living room and grabbed Peter’s hand, spinning him towards the fire.

“Nah, imma stay here,” Sirius slurred up at him, kicking his feet back towards Remus who side stepped him.

“Come on.” Remus rolled his eyes, leaning down to grab his hand and pull him back up to standing. Sirius swayed on his feet, stumbling towards the wall, giggling.

“Oops, everything’s spinning,” He mumbled towards Remus, turning around to watch James and Peter pretend to Irish dance in the corner.

“You need water you idiot.”

“Noooo, I’m good, I need some more, I’m sobering up!”

“Liar!” Peter called out to him, attempting a high kick and hitting the edge of the doorway.

“You’re literally going to puke over your floor if you have any more, and you’ve not even had to do anything bad yet,” James caught Peter before he slipped backwards.

“Well come on then, hit me, dare me to do something friends,” Sirius winked at James, “give me your worst.”

“I can’t think of anything,” Remus blinked a few times, “My brain has turned to mush.”

“Streak!” Peter sat down, puffing loudly.

“You can’t re dare the same thing,” James rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, why don’t you floo call someone?”

“Calling someone!” Sirius yelled, throwing his hands up in the air, “Perfect!”

Sirius knelt on the ground, shifting his legs across the floorboards to reach the fireplace. He placed his hand in the large pot of floor powder to his right, grabbing a hand-full and throwing it into the fire.

“James and Lily’s!”

***

“Merlin’s beard I am exhausted.” Y/N flopped onto the couch as Lily handed her a cup of peppermint tea and a plateful of fig newtons.

“Long first day?” Lily smiled at her, curling up her feet underneath the couch and leaning into the arm.

“I remember Lauren being boring but listening to her talk about the ins and outs of my job for three hours honestly made me want to be back in St Mungo’s.”

“She sounds like a delight.” Lily snorted.

“Seriously, she made the job sound like the most painful thing on the planet, but there’s a reason I joined right? A reason I stayed?” Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I hate feeling like I’m back at step one in my career you know.”

“Ahh you’ll find your way again,” Lily stole a fig newton, “You might just need to repeat some of the same mistakes before you get there.”

“Sounds fucking fun.” Y/N sighed, staring at the fireplace. “How was your day?”

“Alright, doing field work is a bit painful at the moment, I was hoping it would be more like working at St Mungo’s but it feels more like I’m just being sent to break up petty fights they think might be death eater attacks.”

“So, healing broken noses and black eyes?”

“Just about, learning a lot about dumb boys.” Lily snorted, “Which I think I already have a fucking degree in.”

Suddenly there was a crackling sound and within an instant the two girls were standing, wand in hand pointing towards the fire that had began moving in front of them.

“Y/N! Y/N!” A familiar voice called through the fire and they lowered their stance. Sirius’s face was pushing through the fireplace, grinning stupidly as he tried to find Y/N. “There you are!”

“Hey there, Sirius, you sound like you’re having a good night.” Y/N smiled at him, sitting down closer to the fireplace.

“A great night! Fan-bloody-tastic night!”

“So what’s going on?”

“Well the boys dared me to floo call someone and I thought of you!”

“That’s very kind of you,” Y/N laughed, hearing Remus calling out to Sirius in the background.

“Anyway, anyway, I really just wanted to tell you, like, tell you how much I miss you – no, James I’m fine!” Sirius’ face moved towards where Y/N presumed James was trying to pull him away from the fire. Y/N could hear Lily suck in a breath from behind her.

“No, I needed to let you know that I really really miss you, you know? Like it kinds hurts a lot sometimes but you’re still here and you’re ok, but you’re also not here? You know? And I just, I love you Y/N so much and I don’t know what to do without you but you are here, so I’m just really confused but I thought you needed to know ho-“

Sirius’s face disappeared from the fire as she heard three boys yell loudly and presumably drag him backwards and into his living room again. A silence fell, Lily’s breathing heavy and loud behind her.

“Are you ok?” Lily said after a moment, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N said nothing, staring at the place where Sirius’s face had been and feeling every part of her body tense painfully.

“I’m making his life worse by being here.” Y/N muttered finally, her throat constricting tightly. She was bringing him so much pain by existing without the memories of him. She wondered momentarily if it would have been better to just have never woken up. No, that’s not the problem. The problem is whoever did this to me. Whoever decided to cause this pain.

“No you’re not, love, I promise. He’s just drunk and a bit sad, he will be ok.”

“Tell me about that night.” Y/N turned to face Lily. Her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“The night I got hurt, tell me about it. I want to know what happened.”

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Are You Lepre-Kidding Me || Morgan & Mina

Making friends is hard. #cursed

@drowningisinevitable

Morgan was relieved to have another shot at a normal work friend with a normal work lunch. The whole dishonesty about magic and beautiful weirdness thing wasn’t a fun time, but it was a bargain she was familiar with. Familiar could be comforting. And Mina seemed so nice. Morgan was happy to venture to the maths and engineering quad where a thai fusion truck liked to park and catch the hungry students coming out of their four hour labs. Morgan rocked on her heels as she stood in line, trying to figure out if Mina was already there. She fidgeted with a new pendant she’d crafted for herself, amethyst wrapped in gold, and checked her phone again, sending Mina a quick message: In line! Trying to will the sun back with floral prints.

Mina had been in the quad for about five minutes (five and a half, but who was counting?) and had already ordered a bowl of shrimp and fried rice when she got Morgan’s message. She sent back quickly that she’d snagged a table in the back right corner of the quad and settled in to wait for a few more minutes. She was excited; Mina’d always had a bit of trouble making friends. She and her dad never really settled anywhere for too long, and, if they did, never for longer than a year and a half. She’d thought she’d make more friends as she settled in to White Crest, but she was always feeling that niggling in the back of her head about her promise to her father, and, yeah, there was a small (very small, so small) piece of her that didn’t want to have to fulfill it anytime soon. It made her wary and awkward around people, never knowing what to expect from them. It was time for a change, though. It was time to connect with people.

Morgan stiffened with nervousness. Mina was already here. Morgan searched the tables as the line shifted up and ordered the noodle special. She paid for her food and wandered around until she saw her. Something about the way she almost vibrated in her seat reminded Morgan of her messages. She stopped, smiling hopefully. “Are you Mina…?” She asked. “It’s Morgan. Me. I’m Morgan, hi!” She gave another cursory look around the tables, just in case she had it wrong. There was a weird sound in the bushes, she thought, but perhaps it was her own anxiety manifesting its own soundtrack. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to her lately.

Jiggling her foot, Mina’s head whipped up as the other woman walked up to her. She smiled brightly. “Hey! Hi! Hey, Morgan! Yes, I’m Mina. It’s really nice to meet you. In person. Nice to meet you in person.” Okay, stop talking, she told herself. Something rustling in the bushes caused her to pause, just for a second, before she turned her attention back to Morgan. Birds, probably, she thought, though she felt a bit… off. The off feeling wasn’t coming from Morgan, though, and Mina really couldn’t be more grateful. She’d have cried if Morgan had been Fae. She really would have. “Have you had food from the thai truck, yet? I know you’re probably usually on the other side of campus, but they’re actually really good!”

Morgan beamed with relief and took a seat across from Mina. “Oh, good! It would’ve been really awkward if I’d put all that energy out at a random person. Not that I haven’t done it a few times before, but, you know.” She smiled brightly and looked the girl over, trying to get a better sense of her. She seemed even more anxious than Morgan, even more eager. Morgan wondered what she had to be nervous about, if it was her brain working overtime or if something had happened to make her expect something to go wrong. She knew both impulses well, and it made her feel a little endeared to her. “I haven’t, actually. I’m usually at the soup place on the arts quad, but this looks so yummy! Highly recommended by my freshmen, but they eat just about anything, I think, so I’m not sure how much that’s worth.” She sniggered into her noodles and took a bite. “It’s a shame we haven’t run into each other before now. It’s so stuffy in the office space, and it’s just medievalist and modernist bros making themselves feel superior. Well, less so, now that some of them are uh, missing with this eternal night thing.” And less so since she’d threatened one with murder. Morgan hadn’t thought she’d been very convincing, but the novelty factor must have worked in her favor. This, however, didn’t seem like making-friends material. “But what about you! I don’t picture it being very different in the math department, but, you know, it’d be nice if it was.”

“I understand the feeling,” Mina said with a smile. She was constantly putting out too much energy and hoping it went out the right way, and she often ended up screwing up. One time, she’d brought her father someone that she thought was a vampire but clearly wasn’t a vampire, and he’d only barely managed to catch her mistake in time. After that, they’d stuck to having her identify Fae. Speaking off, she was feeling something strange, but… no. She was imagining things. “Oh, I know all about freshmen appetites.” She wrinkled up her nose a bit. “One of the frat boys I tutor said the other day that a friend dared him to eat spray cheese on a marshmallow, which he did, of course, and he liked it. However, the Thai truck is no joke really good! I almost always grab a bite from here unless I pack lunch.” She frowned as Morgan talked about some of her coworkers. “Yeah, the, uh, the math masters program is, I’m sure you can guess, quite small. Quite. Most of my colleagues are… very nice gentlemen at times.” Most of them really weren’t bad, but there were two or three that she really wouldn’t mind just taking home to Dark Score and not drowning them. Not completely, at least. Mina gave Morgan a big smile. “But it’s certainly nice to meet someone outside of the department and outside of tutoring! I’m all about differential equations, but… it’s nice to not think about numbers!”

Morgan had no problem believing Mina had problems with awkward first impressions. But whatever the cause, there was something kind under it all. Morgan smirked about the frat boy, and her colleagues. It seemed pretty clear there was a whole other word besides ‘gentlemen’ that she wanted to use. She smiled warmly at her as she gathered another scoop of noodles. “That’s fair. Although I do know something about those too. And, much as I can and will talk about books all day, it’s good to just, you know, be normal sometimes.” Or normal-ish. Normal-ish for humans, anyway. “I don’t really have any gal-pals up here. And I’m not really sure the TA bros would even get some of of--” Morgan never finished her thought. With a strangled yelp, her head snapped back, and just before she hit the ground, she saw a strange, wormy-gray looking critter leap on top of her forehead and reach for her neck.

This was nice, Mina thought as she ate a bite of shrimp. Nice company, nice food, a nice day (well, night). She could do this. Really, she could. “Right, you also teach some chemistry classes, yes? That’s really cool! But, I agree, it’s very nice to be normal.” Mina felt something kindred with Morgan, especially when she mentioned not having any gal-pals around. Mina didn’t have any pals at all, really. She agreed, and she would have told Morgan as much as soon as the other woman stopped speaking, except for one (or, rather, several) small problem: leprechauns. Brave ones, too, as one immediately took to Morgan, leaping on her. “No, no, no!” Mina yelped. She looked around the courtyard and, wow, just them and the leprechauns. Lunch must be over for most. There were too far in the back for the food truck guy cleaning up to see them, not in the dark, and-- Leprechauns. Mina needed to focus on the leprechauns. “Hey! Back off!” They wouldn’t bother her, not with her Fae blood, but Morgan was another story. Mina attempted to grab the one that was on Morgan as she told the other woman, “Iron! Need iron!”

Many, many strange things were happening at once. For starters, Morgan was on the ground, staring at a new upside-down world peopled with more strange gray faces, like something out of a scary children’s movie. They were toddling towards her, making strange noises that set her teeth on edge. Then Mina was there, throwing one off her and calling for...iron? Wasn’t that just a supernatural know-how thing? But Morgan didn’t have time to think. She was too busy scrambling onto her knees and looking for something, anything, to transmute. Her catch-all bag was too far and now there was one pulling on her ankle. Morgan screamed and tore out her hair clip and slammed it on her cuff, making--one tiny rod with a pointy end, not even the full length of her hand. Morgan held onto it tight as she was dragged back by too many tiny hands. She hooked one arm around the leg of the picnic table and thrust the other out to Mina. She seemed to know what she was doing. The why part could come later.

Mina’d already tore a section of the bottom of her sweater off and wrapped it around her hand as she watched the leprechauns bearing down on them Of course, of course, the one time she actually begins to enjoy lunch on campus, and leprechauns decided to come along and ruin it. The one that she threw off of Morgan was looking at her in complete confusion, unable to comprehend that she’d chosen the other woman over a fellow Fae. Mina snatched the rod of iron from Morgan, grateful that the other woman was a magic user as she watched the hair clip transmutate, and it felt hot even through the cloth around her hand, but it was a familiar burn, and she should be somewhat protected. And, then, she went for one of the leprechauns around Morgan’s feet, lashing out with the rod. Many of them panicked at the approaching metal but seemed resolute in hounding their quarry. In their focus, they weren’t quite as fast as normal, and Mina took her chance, grabbing one and shoving the iron rod under its jaw and through its skull. Then she went at another one. To Morgan, she said, “I don’t suppose you can find a way to do that again?”

Morgan scrambled up and onto the table as soon as she was free, pulling her bag up with her. She wasn’t sure what the plan was besides ‘don’t get maimed,’ But seeing the pointy end of her rod go through one of the little gray head made her yelp and spill everything from her catch-all bag. Less rummaging. More doing. “Uhh, sort of?” She found the rod she’d been gifted and held it up like a bat. Only-- right. They were all at her ankles, and the second Morgan jumped down from the table, they were at it again. She swung down hard, batting one away. The sound the iron made sent cringe down her arms. Cold iron really was no joke. “What are these things?” She asked, swatting away another. “What do they want?”

“They’re leprechauns,” Mina said. “And not the kind of the cereal box, unfortunately.” She grabbed one by its abnormally large head and twisted. If Morgan wasn’t around, she’d decapitate the thing with her claws. However, she just snapped its neck, knowing it probably wasn’t dead. “They like stealing things, rare things, expensive things. They’ll kill to get it, too. And they travel in packs. Iron and decapitation are the two ways to dispose of them.” She recited what she’d been taught years ago, and she’d actually put this knowledge into practice. Leprechauns were not what her father considered humanoid Fae, the kind that she should be targeting in White Crest, but they were definitely the kind that she’d gone after with him when she was younger. “They’re also quite heavy so-- oof!” Apparently, Mina was no longer Fae enough to protect as one of the leprechauns threw itself at her. She grunted under the weight and kicked it off. “So watch out!”

“Rare things?” Morgan asked, taking another swing. “But I don’t--” Shit. Morgan hopped back on the table and pulled on Mina to come with her. She took off her necklace (oh earth, and it was some of her best work, too) and dangled it on the end of her rod. “Is this what you want? Seriously?” She tossed it down to the ground and braced herself while the leprechauns inspected the newfound ‘treasure.’ Morgan waited, tense, and reached for Mina’s arm so they could make a break for together if they had to. “Will that make them go away?” She asked in a whisper.

Mina tensed as Morgan grabbed her arm, but she kept her gaze steadily on the leprechauns. Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fourteen of the foul creatures, all surrounding Morgan’s necklace. “I don’t know,” she said lowly. “They usually kill when they get caught.” The clicking sounds they made caused a shiver to run up Mina’s spine. Though they couldn’t speak any sort of human language, she knew that leprechauns weren’t to be underestimated. They were smart, quick, and nimble, and they had a nasty habit of making and using their own tools. Plus, there were so many of them, and though she was impressed with how Morgan had handled herself so far, Mina didn’t know how the other woman would be able to take on fourteen of the bloody creatures.

The leprechaun critters were plotting, negotiating, maybe even laying claims on who got to eat which toe for their lunch break. Carefully, Morgan stuffed only her essentials into her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. “We should run?” She mouthed to Mina, clumsily pantomiming their great escape with one hand. She eased onto her knees and inched back, balancing the cold iron in her grip all the while. It might have even worked if it hadn’t scraped on the edge of the table. The leprechauns turned their heads her way, their grim, tiny faces unreadable. Well, so much for being sneaky about it. “Yep! We’re running!” She leapt off her perch and sprinted away, leg throbbing with each step.

Though she would have loved to stick around and tear into the rest of the leprechauns, Mina followed jerkily after Morgan. She turned around and bared sharp teeth at the wretched little creatures, hoping that would deter them. If they figured out that Morgan was under her, another Fae’s protection, they might leave her alone. Whatever the case, Mina planned to come back at a later date with one of her father’s swords and slaughter the remaining leprechauns to ensure they didn’t do this to anyone else. She followed after Morgan, and, when she felt they were far enough away, she stopped the other woman. “We’re-- I think we’re good. Are you alright? Did they hurt you at all?”

Morgan slowed, staggering, to a stop. “Uhh...not too badly, I think?” She patted herself down carefully. There were some tender spots on her back from where she’d fallen, and a nasty scrape where she’d been dragged along the ground, but given what else had happened to her lately, Morgan felt like she couldn’t really complain. “At least I don’t need another hospital visit. I can’t stand Nurse Denise judging me again. What about you? Are you--” For the first time since they’d been disrupted, Morgan actually took a good look at Mina. There was something else in her, something firm and stringently capable, something like the iron, which she held with a hand wrapped in fabric. Morgan stared, trying to make sense of the last few minutes. “Mina, are you okay after all that?”

Mina ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I’m glad you’re alright. They really tried to--” She stopped herself. What they tried to do was kill Morgan. All for a necklace. She really hated leprechauns. “I’m glad you’re alright.” She was concerned about the need for a hospital trip, though she didn’t say anything, it probably showed. Another implied that there had at least been one, in not multiple. “I’m fine,” she said. The leprechauns had barely touched her due to what she was, and the few scrapes and bruises she had would easily be taken care of when she got home. She looked at the iron rod, covered in bits of leprechaun and still in her wrapped hand. She wiped it off on her shirt. “I’m quite used to things like this. I grew up taking care of monsters like them.”

“T-tried to--?” Morgan prompted, eyes wide. She already had a decent idea from all the other times she’d almost-died recently, but there was something so strange about the prospect of getting her head dashed on the pavement over a bit of gold and amethyst. She’d heard by now of a few kinds of fae critters that subsisted on humans or thought nothing of hurting them, but it was different, feeling the ghosts of tiny leprechaun hands on her. Morgan shivered and tucked her rod back into her catch-all bag and took the one she’d transmuted from Mina. She touched it to her wrist to bring back her hair clip and distracted herself by fussing with her hair, wincing only a little in pain at the way it irritated the scrapes on her back. “Right. So, I don’t think there’s any point in pretending we’re normal by human standards,” she said, a little unsteadily. “Me, alchemist. You--? I mean how do you grow up uh…’taking care’ of leprechauns?”

“They don’t usually let people live when they get found out,” Mina said quietly. She felt uncomfortable saying the words out loud, making them real. As long as she had her way, though, those leprechauns wouldn’t be touching another person. She unwrapped her hand and flexed it. Thankfully, the iron handed touched her flesh at all, so while she’d felt a bit of discomfort, she was still fine and human, if in appearance only. She did laugh a bit as Morgan stated that they weren’t normal. “And here I thought all adjuncts had the chemical know-how to transmute a hair clip into an iron rod.” Mina played with the strip of cloth in her hand. “My father, he hunts creatures, creatures that hurt human beings. He raised me to do the same. I try to protect humans from the evils in this world, like those wretched things.” She jutted her chin in the direction that they came. “They would have killed you, Morgan. Without a thought and without a care.”

Morgan nodded. This was all kinds of not good. First leprechauns, and now--a Warden? Morgan lost her grip on her hair and had to start over. The last thing she needed was another complicated not-friendship with a kind of hunter. And yet here Mina was, young and nice and sweet in her own peculiar way. Everything had been fine until a short while ago. But who knew what she would do in front of a fae that was less critter, more person. “I um, I get that,” Morgan said at last. “And I’m grateful that we both made it out okay. Thank you, Mina,” she said. “Really.”

Mina ran a hand through her hair and sighed. From Morgan’s reaction, she had an awful feeling that she’d done or said something wrong. She couldn’t really understand it, couldn’t figure out what she’d said wrong. “Of course. There’s no need to thank me, really,” she murmured. “Just, ah, doing my job.” She gave a soft smile. “Lunch was nice, you know, before the leprechauns showed up. If you’d-- I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. But, if you’d like, we could do it again sometime?” Whether Morgan said no or not, Mina made a vow to herself that she’d watch out for the other woman, especially around campus. If she’d ended up in the hospital multiple times, she was either accident prone or a target for supernatural shenanigans, and Mina wanted to make sure she was okay. She was so kind, after all.

Morgan smiled back at Mina, if only because she didn’t know what to do. She had turned sheepish and anxious again. She knew something was wrong, maybe she knew that Morgan understood exactly what and who she was looking at. Maybe she was starting to guess Morgan knew fae, maybe other supernaturals who could end up on her menu. And she was being so earnest about it, so gentle. Morgan felt for her even as she felt the impulse to bolt cord through her body and she inched away. “Um, maybe sometime, yeah,” she said with a noncommittal shrug. She couldn’t find it in her to be harsh about leaving, no matter how rattled she was inside. “After I have a chance to uh, live all this down. A little. And somewhere probably inside. Maybe without shiny things.”

“Right, of course,” Mina said quietly. It wasn’t a no, but it was close enough. She was resigned to making sure Morgan stayed safe from afar. Whatever she’d done wrong, it was enough that the other woman likely wouldn’t want to see her again. Perhaps it was stabbing the leprechaun the way she had. She should have been less violent with it. Or maybe… Was it possible that Morgan figured out she was Fae from the way she’d had to hold the iron rod? Mina truly hoped not. She just wanted someone, anyone, to see her as human. “Do be safe, please? I think you’re right. Ah, stay inside, stay safe, avoid the maths and engineering quad. I would… it wouldn’t do, like you said, for you to end up in the hospital again.” She pretended to check her phone. “Goodness! I need-- I’ve got to-- Class! Tutoring! I should just-- It was very nice to meet you, Morgan, truly. I really do hope I see you around!” Before the other woman could say another word, Mina darted off. She could study a bit, or, she could go home and prep for the night. She was going hunting.

#wr mina #wr chatzy #wr mina chatzy #wickedswriting #are you lepre-kidding me

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noahiish · 4 years

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hellooooooo, my dudes !! i’m oliver and this is noah. i swear his majors make sense just read the intro...

「 gregg sulkin. male. he/him. 」 i hope that #lexsquad member 「 NOAH ARCHER 」 adds me to the squad ! the 「 TWENTY-ONE 」 year old 「 FINE ART & ANATOMY 」 major has been apart of the squad since 「 OCTOBER 2019 」 and seems to be the 「 WALLFLOWER 」 of the group. 「 NOAH 」 is a 「 JUNIOR 」 and seems to enjoy 「 SKETCHING 」 but you can always find them at a squad party , too ! 「 oliver. they/them. 21. est. 」 -- kie's wc !

ABOUT

– born in a suburb of nyc to a pretty normal middle class family. one brother two years older than him and his parents. he had your typical childhood, just your typical bumps that come with puberty and growing up.

– he grew up sketching a lot bc he spent a lot of time following his parents around and doing a lot of waiting and reading was too boring... and frankly… was not that good at it. but he kept at it and it developed into a pretty Big Talent !! he started gravitating toward people eventually, finding it challenging and full-filling. soon it was more strange to find noah without a sketchbook than with one.

– didn’t really know what he wanted to do as he neared the end of high school tbh. art was the only thing he was good at --- that and pole vaulting lol. actually he went to lex bc they offered him an athletic scholarship. so he went to lex for that, decided to major in fine arts while he was there ; luckily had supper supportive parents that let him LOL ( the scholarship probs helped a little in that regard ). learned a lot about painting, acrylic and oil, though sketching and drawing remained his first love. he took to the bustling street, sitting in cafes and sketching anyone and everyone ( in a non-creepy way, he promises ).

– middle of his sophomore year, his friend met this super hot guy at a bar but never got his name or anything. and well… that’s where the story really starts. noah figured hey, why not give it a try and that was his first time sketching from a description. and it turned out pretty spot on.

– from there, things spiraled out of control. parent of a friend of a friend heard some things and next thing he knew, he was shadowing a forensic artist at the nypd the next summer and adding a second major in anatomy. so yeah, that was a twist he didn’t see life throwing at him. but he’s surprisingly happy with the new direction, thinks it can really take him somewhere maybe. who knows.

USELESS FACTS

– he still has a sketchbook with him like… always. carries this worn leather messenger bag to hold it and all the pencils and charcoal he’ll ever need in addition to his backpack bc u gotta protect the real goods. definitely still in the habit of sitting in cafe and drawing random people. it keeps his skills sharp. sometimes has friends drill exercises with him where they describe a random person in like a stock photo to him. he thinks it’s fun…

– he paints too !! but those are like,,,, rarely ever finished unless they’re for class. he runs out of motivation too fast. his apt probs like half-finished canvases of every size just… everywhere. like i said, classwork and freelance is one thing — but all his independent projects lmao ???? like never finished. ever. king.

– uh. yeah sports. he does track n field ( pole vault is like his Thing ). rest of the year he just keeps himself in shape. running, gym, the works.

– has a little freelance business !! mostly just short sketching commissions bc what college student has money to spend on that lmao. business probably picks up around christmas and valentines day tbh.

– near photographic memory tbh… helps with all those anatomy classes tho.

– kie’s secret ex. probably still sad abt it. probably has a full sketchbook filled with him too. still the person he can draw easiest from memory. what can i say.

– his older brother plays in the nhl. that’s not really relevant at all but i’m including it anyway. he probs plays for the ducks so he’s close-ish. noah goes to his games occasionally.

PERSONALITY

noah’s just like.... pretty unassuming ? he does tend to stick more to himself than get into the thick of things, hence his label. he’s got an artist’s eye though : acutely observant, not much slips past him, probably could be a detective... lowkey his parents think he should’ve used that intellect for something that wasn’t art lbr. doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to have fun, just tends to hang back first. prefers to be in full control of his faculties so getting him drunk is a rarity. absolutely the friend that would dd. he tries his best to be kind and to let people make their own impressions on him. but like ? double-edged sword too ? he also doesn’t really care if you’re popular or whatever. he’s also a good listener and has been told he’s a reassuring presence ??? people tend to want to talk to him and find him giving off those like Trustworthy vibes, y’know ???

#lex.intro #( probs going to sleep soon but #ya boy is done with school now so #i'll be around always LMAO )

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meggannn · 6 years

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anyway here’s where i stand on the whole ‘peter b as miles’s father figure’ thing. behind a cut cause this got long and spoilers for spiderverse obviously

there’s a very accurate post going around that says ‘miles didnt need a father figure, peter needed a son figure’ and i think that's pithy enough to sum it up, but i had more thoughts about their dynamic as i rewatch it. in another universe (hah) i might say ‘a kid can have two father figures’ and miles clearly has a big enough heart to love jefferson, aaron, and peter all as positive male figures in his life, but the underlying theme that people much smarter than me have rightfully pointed out is that replacing, or even adding, peter to miles’s list of father figures reduces the importance of a black father already in miles’s life and quite frankly, they make it clear that miles isn’t looking to view peter b as a dad figure anyway. honestly i’d even argue that peter doesn’t really view miles as a son even by the end, but more like a favorite protégé and close friend

we can presume miles goes to aaron so much (“has a soft spot” for aaron, as his dad says) because he feels disconnected from his dad. they quickly establish aaron is his go-to adult figure for whenever he’s feeling lost or confused or stressed or just needs someone to listen and not judge, because uncle aaron, with no spouse or kids, has the freedom to be the cool uncle miles gets to do fun things with. graffiti is illegal, yes, but aaron is a master at supporting his nephew in a way miles wants to be supported: uncle aaron looks at and compliments and supports his art, uncle aaron teaches him how to talk to girls, we can probably presume uncle aaron is also where miles got his love of music and his punching bag is probably where miles learned the boxing stance he takes up when noir challenges him later on

i believe that miles WANTS to go to his dad with all of the things he goes to aaron with -- i think he almost calls his dad after leaving may’s house before getting discouraged by his stern voicemail -- but scenes like the car drive to school show miles that his dad won’t listen when he voices his insecurities and worries. it’s not for lack of love there, but he’s terrified of his dad’s disapproval and restrictions of the life he chooses to live. by the end of the end of the film this fear is, if not completely alleviated, definitely rectified a little -- miles knows his dad supports his art, and that officer jefferson davis supports spiderman even if he doesn’t approve of his methods, and that’s enough for him

peter b also won’t -- and can’t -- replace aaron. peter b only really becomes a solidified mentor figure for miles in the forest escape. that’s not to say miles didn’t like peter b, he still clearly thought highly of him and was desperate/excited to learn from a spiderman, but only does he really see what peter b can offer him when peter teaches him how to swing through positive reinforcement (peter telling miles to stay behind, getting upset he followed him into the vent, hissing at him to “just unstick!! they’re gonna see you!!” just frustrates and stresses miles out. miles wants to feel useful and included and supported, like aaron makes him feel).

miles is impressionable: he copies RIPeter’s move in the final battle to get up to the ceiling panel. he copies aaron when aaron climbs the fence and during the infamous shoulder-touch with gwen, and he copies peter b during the alchemex heist several times: mimics that cute chin-grab scene as they scout alchemex, (tries to) copy the elegant swing as peter climbs down from the ceiling, notably uses peter’s thwips, and finally he copies peter VERY fast on positional movement as they fly through the forest: miles’s legs swing wildly at first but within seconds he’s mimicking peter’s flying crouch-bounce. only after seeing how well peter b works in demonstration does he say “you’re amazing man!”

there’s not too much he copies his dad about though, because he thinks he and his dad have nothing in common. by the end of the movie it’s clear to him that even though they don’t share hobbies or interests or even have the same outlook on the world, his dad still loves him very much, and is willing to bend to meet his son halfway, which is all miles wanted him to do from the beginning. miles now has what he wants from his father; he doesn’t need peter to fill that role for him, or even be another father for him. something tells me miles would laugh peter back into his dimension if peter ever tried to father him

of course the biggest thing that convinced me is that peter b stopped believing in miles, right when miles needed support the most. he’d just lost his uncle, the best male role model in his life, and loses another one soon after when peter b ties him up and leaves him in his dorm. it’s jefferson’s unconditional love and support (and miles knows jeff believes miles doesn’t reciprocate) that gives miles the strength he needs to come into his own.

(tangent: for the record, i don’t blame peter b really -- or the rest of the spidergang -- because the stakes were high and miles clearly WASN’T ready to face kingpin after losing his uncle. i see it as the spidergang trying to protect miles from not getting killed, yes, but also from not having to fight so soon after losing his uncle. it wasn’t miles’s fault he wasn’t ready, and it was the responsible thing for peter b to do to sacrifice himself to save the others as the oldest of the crew (even if he was using it as an excuse to avoid going back home) but still, not what miles needed at that moment in time. miles needed to feel useful and that he could still help fulfill the promise he gave to RIPeter, even if he wasn’t the one to put the goober in. peter b kind of took the choice from him, said it was for his own good, and left miles lonelier than he’s ever been -- and just when he though he’d lost the support of every adult figure in his life, his father comes back into the picture. miles realizes he always had that support, but he needs to stop wavering on the fence and face his fears: will he move backwards or forwards? will he commit to this school or self-sabotage by flunking and skipping just to go back where he’s more comfortable? will he accept his role as a superhero or live a normal life? will he stay in his bedroom while his friends are in danger or stand up so someone doesn’t have to die?)

tbh the kicker for me is that even in the end, well after miles sees peter b as someone to look up to instead of just tolerate, it’s pretty clear from their interactions that miles sees peter like a friend/spidermentor/occasional life coach, and peter treats miles like a close mentee and dear friend. that’s different from the relationship miles wants from his dad, and still different from the relationship miles had with aaron (though close enough that you might be able to argue peter b steps up to fill another uncle role in miles’s life post-canon; aaron and peter b have similar traits in how they’re single adult men who can get away with being reckless and a little lawless because they have no one to hurt but themselves)

each of miles’s relationships with the men in his life are unique and none of them really replace or are in jeopardy of overlapping with each other. he has the capacity to love all of them in his own way, and does. and anyway that’s where i stand on that.

i feel like i could write another post entirely on why peter b isnt a father figure because he hasn’t really (yet) done the growth necessary to be one (he’s depressed, stuck in a mid-life crisis, and has begun to hate his dangerous, unpredictable, unquittable job that compromises every relationship in his life -- he can’t be a father! he’s barely taking care of himself!), which is why stepping into this role as miles’s mentor/uncle-ish figure is the best thing that could’ve happened to him if he wants to fully realize his potential in this next chapter of his life. but i digress.

#into the spiderverse #miles morales #jefferson davis #peter b parker #aaron davis #spiderverse stuff

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cherry3point14 · 6 years

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Mine: Ch1 - YOU

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Stalking, beginnings of jealous!Dean Word Count: 4,000 ish. Chapter Summary: Dean meets you. He wants to know more. A/N: At this point my feelings are UGH. I have looked at this too long!

Ao3 if you prefer

This should be my happy place. I’ve been thinking about this for like, a week. But Sam’s bitch face was never part of my plan. He’s overreacting. The line isn’t even that long, there are two tables in front of us when we park up and the line has doubled behind us. That’s not good enough for my brother though. I’m not even sure why he came, before we left he kept saying how we had food in the kitchen. Not that I’m mad about his company. It was a good two-hour drive and I got to spend it with him. It’s been a lifetime since we drove anywhere without finding someone dead at the other end. Vegas week got skipped a few years back and remains a memory. Our lives, in general, get more and more caked in blood and shit. I’m not counting or anything but we deserved a couple of normal hours on the road. Except we’re at a diner so it’s me that deserves this. Sam deserves a trip to a farmers market or something. That’s a problem for tomorrow. Although this place isn’t just a diner; that makes it sound like any other pancake house on any other highway. This is the diner. It’s a gutted gas station turned restaurant that’s the best everything in the state. A well-kept secret. Or at least it had been until the food blogs, that I definitely don’t read, got a hold of it. Now it’s full of beanie wearing douchebags taking pictures of their food, and wannabe cowboys who want to do the same. “Hey, guys. You’re looking at about a thirty-minute wait for a table. Unless you want to sit at the counter?” Her eyes dart about as she talks, between the line behind them to the people already sitting, and back again. There are two seats at the counter and the sight of them sends a shudder rolling over my shoulders. They’re in the middle of everything, of other people already sitting there and I don’t know if I want to eat that badly. Not in the next thirty minutes anyway. For how long I’ve been dreaming about this burger I don’t want to spend the entire time trying not to nudge the guy next to me. Besides those college kids with the corner table are no way going to last half an hour now that their food’s gone. Before I can say any of this Sam opens his giant mouth, “counter’s fine, thanks.” The counter is fine? The counter is anything but fine. The space is too small and I didn’t drive all this way to sit at the goddamn counter during the lunchtime rush. But he’s already taking big moon size steps over there before I get a chance to hiss my opinion at him. Son of a bitch. “You’re a traitor, you know that?” The space I’m supposed to sit in is even smaller now I’m in it. He actually looks shocked by my accusation, “what? You wanted to eat, this is the quickest way to eat.” “I wanted to enjoy my food. This isn’t just lunch, it’s a, um-” I slap my hand on the counter when the word hits me, “it’s an experience Sammy. The sort of experience I’d have liked my feet touching the floor for.” His lips curl up like I’m some sort of amusement for him, “an experience?” Crap. He’s on to me. He’s seen my browsing history. He knows that SouthernFoodGal recommended the place. “Just don’t order rabbit food, ok? Respect the process.” My hand waves in the space between us in the hopes that I can wave away his focus. It actually works. The waitress at the counter is, and this is not an exaggeration, about ninety-eight years old. She’s every road weathered, curly-haired truck stop waitress from the movies. I’m wondering if it’s a legal thing that every diner has to have one. It’s gotta be, right? It can’t be a coincidence. She smiles though, not a plastered on fake one, and she doesn’t comment on my life expectancy as I order their star burger; the heart attack. Sam doesn’t need to comment because I can see his judgment out the corner of my eye, and that’s before I order fries. At the very least he orders a chicken burger instead of salad. Hopefully, he’ll cheer up with some bread in his stomach. The place is buzzing so I’m not sure if we have total privacy or if every word we say will be broadcast. The conversation stays light then. Free of monsters and angels and demons. I get a chance to hear about a book Sam read that wasn’t lore. It’s good to let him talk like this. It reminds me that he’s ok, he’s doing ok. He’s still got this slither of a normal guy left in him as he gushes over the story; that’s enough for me to smile at. The food arrives fast, hot and before Sam has finished talking. It takes two hands to lift my burger since it’s more a stack of food rather than a meal. And yet the beast in my hands isn’t leaking grease all over me. The smell of meat and cheese hits my nose before the food reaches my tongue. All my senses band together for that first bite. “Are you kidding me?” With food swirling around my mouth I still manage a moan. Sam frowns at my plate, then me, “what?” “Look at this!” it’s all about the cross-section so waving it in his direction will surely be enough to explain. Yet Sam’s face stays blank unless you count the sneer he tries to hide, so I swallow all slow and regretfully. The food had to leave my mouth at some point I guess. “This is a work of art. Bacon’s crispy, three different type of cheese, onion rings Sammy. Don’t even get me started on the sauce. This is- shit the pickles have gotta be homemade. This was worth the drive.” That’s probably not as big a compliment as it could be considering how far we drive everywhere for everything. I know what I mean to say though. It’s been a while since I ate food that was more than just fast. This is damn good. “This is pretty good too,” Sam chimes in with much less enthusiasm. Offensively less. I’d be annoyed on behalf of the place except I take another bite and the anger in my gut fades to nothing. Eating the rest of the meal becomes a blur. I'm caught between wanting to swallow it whole and not wanting to finish it at all. Doesn't even matter that I elbowed the guy next to me twice. Too soon our elderly waitress Carol is taking my plate away before she checks her watch. “Y/N,” she shouts through the pass into the kitchen. “Can you watch the counter while I take my ten?” Apparently, it didn’t matter about the lunch rush or the line out the door, Carol was taking her ten. She’s a seasoned waitress who got our order right first time. I appreciate her enough that panic bubbles in my gut for a second. What if this Y/N person brings the wrong pie? The worry is fleeting because then the door swings open with a crash of wood on wood. The sound of your entrance is what catches my attention, you are what keeps it. You step out in your chef whites, rolled at the sleeves and an apron pinning it all at your waist. The apron giving you a figure even in your uniform. I can tell you still want to be proud of your body underneath your pulled back hair and shiny face from the heat of the kitchen. You're sporting an oversized pout, aimed in the direction of the waitress whose name I’ve forgotten by now. “Only if you tell me I’m pretty.” You are pretty. I’d tell you that. You have the kind of soft features that are pretty even if you’re not dolled up and I’m not half drunk. You’re pretty, and then you laugh at your own joke, and like that you’re beautiful. Anybody would have a hard time convincing me I’m not staring straight into the sun. Carol’s voice is scolding if not playful as she shakes her head, “yeah, pretty annoying.” You shoo her away with a waved hand before your face turns hard and serious. Even if you’re only covering for ten minutes you hold yourself like this is most important job you’ve ever had. You survey your kingdom with concern etched on that sweet little face of yours until you lock eyes with me. Quickly softening into an easy smile. Acknowledging my stare as a call for attention. You wanted to come over anyway. I only gave you an excuse. “How was the food guys?” You don’t even glance in Sam’s direction. I like this move. Sam hasn’t looked up from his phone but you don’t want to make a big deal out of coming over here for me. I get it, you don’t want to seem too eager. Which would be easier to pull off if you’d looked away from me yet. “Best burger I’ve had in months.” The smile I flash you is the charming one I reserve for women in bars. You’re not sucking down vodka though so you raise both eyebrows at my review instead. Your hands move to your hips, again bringing my focus to your waist, begging me to steal a glance at your curves. “Only the last few months?” You scoff, “not good enough. I’m taking the gold for best burger of your life or I’m taking nothing.” I would think you’re joking except you have this hard set to your face that’s deadly serious. I’m half sure you’re going to storm off and make me something else right now. It’s only when you don’t move from the spot and your lip finally twitches that a chuckle escapes me, along with a wink. “You’ll have to keep trying then, sweetheart.” Is that a blush on your cheeks, or were they that pink since you left the kitchen? “I didn’t know I had someone with such discerning taste in today or I’d have made you something special.” You have this pucker in your top lip and a flash of something in your eyes, like a fucking promise. I can see you like a challenge and maybe you also want my approval? Maybe you crave it. So, you keep trying, keep working for it, “do you trust me enough to get you something sweet?” Is it sweeter than you, I wonder? “Depends on if you have pie.” You jump back as if a jolt of electricity surged through you. You press a hand to your chest with this grand gesture of mock offense. There’s a sickly over the top southern accent too, “sir I’m offended that you think I didn’t make pie fresh this morning.” Another laugh at your own joke although I’ll be honest, I kind of like that about you already. “Apple and blueberry or cherry bourbon?” Shit. Is this the moment that I’ll remember for the rest of my life? It’s a stupid question. If I could only take one mental picture it would be you coming back from the kitchen. A sway to your hips, two plates, and one fork.

We’d talked while I ate. You'd pretended you were waiting for my critique and I wait until both slices are gone before I give you an inch. The whole time some dick at the other end of the counter is staring at you. Desperately trying to will you into noticing him because what? The asshole wants a refill or something? Being rude to wait staff is shitty enough on a normal day but he shouldn't be staring at you like that. Not that you need to worry about him. He gets a hefty and totally accidental shove on my way out that almost puts him on his ass. I’m not even sure you noticed when Carol came back because you’d stuck around. The din of the diner quietens enough that I catch the nervous hitch in your voice when you’d told me your name. “I’m Y/N by the way,” tumbles out too fast and too quiet, then you’d asked for mine in the same breath. I’d given it to you, my first name anyway. Why are you so relieved? Did you really think I wouldn’t tell you my name? It’s like you haven’t seen you. But see, here’s the thing. I’ve looked out for people before, tried to look out for people, and it’s not been enough. I’ve not been enough. Now I know what I need to do and the lengths I need to go to if I’m going to do protect people. So, checking you out is common sense. It’s a necessary evil to look after myself. You’re beautiful but I need to know if there’s more to you. There’s beautiful in every town. I need to make sure you’re worth all the effort I’m willing to go to. It’s a two-way street too. I get that. You didn’t have to trust me. It’s probably not uncommon for guys to hit on you at work and for you to give out a fake name. That makes it all the sweeter when I type your name into google and boom, there you are. Smiling so wide in your profile pictures that it makes my cheeks ache. You trusted me which begs the question, are you a little bit naive or was that really a blush? I’m nursing a glass, my third, while I moon over my laptop. I’m not normally like this. My interest in looking people up online usually limited to finding a connection between victims. I’m not a big social media guy. For you? Well, it’s a means to an end. This is how I get to see more of your story is all. Lawrence. I almost choke when I see that under ‘hometown’. You were born and raised in Lawrence. In another life, I could have already met you. We’d already be together and today was kismet fixing things on the messed up timeline we’re on. Not that I believe in that shit. Except you make me believe. The deeper I go down the Y/N rabbit hole the more it seems like you’re kind of, sort of, perfect for me. It’s such a mindless action to pour myself another drink while I scroll that it doesn’t even count as glass number four. You were living in New York until about a year ago. Then you moved to Manhattan, Kansas. There’s this picture of you in a car packed tight with boxes, sunglasses, and a big grin. The caption reads, if you can’t live in NYC, try Manhattan! You giggled to yourself while writing that no doubt, I’d stake money on it. There’s no explanation for your move but all your friends liked the post and a bunch of them chime in to say they’ll miss you. I’m interested in what brought you closer, thankful for it. I’ll have to ask you about that one day. Although it’s better that you’re out of the city anyway. “Found anything?” Sam leaves the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. Upping his water intake is his new thing and he’s so desperately trying to get me on board. Unfortunately, I hold a deeply rooted belief that pissing that much just ain’t natural.

“What?” I snap, still distracted with images of you.

Sam must read it as suspicious because he reels his neck in as quickly as he stuck it out to start the conversation. “Dude, didn’t we talk about keeping the porn to your room?”

My shoulders relax instantly because that’s the simple answer. He thinks it’s hardcore cartoon sex scenes on my screen rather than your Facebook and Instagram. Not that I’m ashamed of you, it’s just better if I keep things under wraps for now. You’ll have to meet Sam eventually. Well, meet him more than the cursory few words you’d offered each other at the diner today. Out of his sight, one hand clicks to open a new tab in case he decides to peer over my shoulder. The fingers of my other hand drag down my face, all the better to appear dazed and confused. “No, I was looking for a case. Nothing out there.” There is something out there. You’re out there. Sam must recognize the tired eyes of someone who’s read too many news articles, though it’s actually too many comments, because he buys what I’m selling. “Guess we’ve got another snow day tomorrow. Any plans?” “Maybe.” The answer is muttered more to myself than him. He must think I’ve gone back to looking for cases. You know, instead of looking for your address.

The first time I drive out and park across the street it’s an accident. I’d been going for a drive to nowhere in particular, only looking to chase the horizon for a while. Long roads and smooth tarmac. Good music and definitely not driving to you. Not even in your direction. I hadn’t been paying attention anyway which is why the drive is so lazy and takes nearly two hours. With a little effort, I’ll get that down to an hour and a half. But again, this wasn’t planned when I first started my engine. If I had planned it I’d have definitely brought more beer. Your quiet little suburb is cute but not nice enough that it’ll break your heart to leave it behind. You live in this one story townhouse and it’s fine. It’s ok. It’s big enough for one person but it’s not a family home or anything. I can practically see your loneliness behind the blue paint on your front door. Your car is, well, I’ll take care of that at some point. It’s a Prius for one thing, and it’s too old to be a good car and too modern to be a classic. Thinking about it you might not even need a car. I can drive you wherever. These are all things I didn’t plan to see or notice, the first time anyway. Because the first time I’m looking at your house I can’t stop asking myself why the bay window doesn’t have blinds. What are you thinking Y/N? This area might seem nice and safe but really, anybody could pull up and watch you. You don’t need to worry about it while I’m outside but I’m not always here; I haven’t always been here. Don’t think I’ll forget about this either, the question is filed away for when I can ask it properly. A conversation for another day. It’s careless is what it is. How can I look after you if you won’t look after yourself? The clear glass does mean I can see you, luckily. You make a mug of something warm to drink while you watch a video on your laptop. Whatever it is makes you throw your head back with laughter until your back hits the sofa behind you. It's a carefree moment that I get to share with you. It's the sort of thing I need to see. These little private moments that show me who you are in a way your Instagram won’t. But it’s the second time I’m outside your house, that’s far more eventful. You haven’t been home from work for long. All you’ve managed is to turn on some music and start singing along while you run a vacuum around the place. My grin is about to damn near break my face watching you. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Everything stops suddenly and then you pick up your phone. That should be explanation enough, a phone call. Except you don’t answer it immediately. You frown at the thing in your hand and my fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter. Whoever is on the phone burst the bubble we were both living in and I don't appreciate it. You’re all stiff movements and tight lips as you answer. The caller has turned you into a bitter version of yourself. Sweeping anger replaces any happiness you held onto as you storm out of the house. You’re so distracted that you get halfway to your car before you have to backtrack and lock your door. Really, Y/N? No, I don’t blame you. I blame whoever was on the end of that call, they did this to you. They made you careless. The only answers I’ll get are by following you, which at this point is easy enough. It’s early evening and there are enough other cars on the road to hide behind once we make it out of suburbia. It’s a bar you finally pull into. A dive by the looks of it. I can tell that much before I’ve caught up with you. Call it a special skill of mine to recognize bars like this. I’m caught across the street, waiting to cross traffic on a surprisingly busy road. Even from this distance, I see you screech to a halt at the front of the shitty parking lot. Apparently, you haven’t calmed down yet and looking over at the entrance to the bar it’s easy to see why. The sun has barely gone down. It’s not even 6pm. And there’s this guy wandering towards your car with the gait of someone who’s drunk as sin. Each step he takes is another rev of my foot on the gas where I’m trying to get to you. The guy isn’t huge or anything but he’s still bigger than you. He’s bigger and drunk and why isn’t there a fucking gap in this traffic? Finally, I swerve through a gap that isn’t really a gap to the outrage of some dick honking his horn. Not that the noise distracts you or the deadbeat. You stomp towards him with a slam of your drivers' side door and he calls out at the sight of you, “baby, I knew you’d come get me!” He falls in your direction and lands with his mouth on yours, his hands pawing at you. And you might push at his chest but it’s not urgent or defenseless. It’s exasperated. It’s so that you can swipe at his chest and berate him, “get in the car before I change my mind.” What the fuck Y/N? Who is this asshole?

Continue to Chapter 2

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278

#dean x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfic #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #I mean sam is there too #stalker au #THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

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spartanguard · 6 years

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something in the water, part 1

Summary: Emma is sent to investigate a supposed sea monster appearance in her hometown. Thankfully, her family there knows her secret: that at night, she transforms into a swan. And she knows that whoever the universe thinks her soulmate is, as dictated by the tattoo on her side, won't be there. Though maybe she was wrong to assume that. And when did a merman start hanging out in the ocean near Storybrooke?

rated M (eventually) | 5.5k | AO3

A/N: Here it finally is—my story for @cssns!! I came up with the idea ages ago but never really found time to write until this event came up. It should be about 7 chapters, but of course I was silly and signed up to post on the first day of band camp, so the next chapter won’t go up until next week, and probably once a week from there on. Hope you like it, and thanks to @kmomof4 for organizing this! I’ll be posting accompanying art as well!

When it came to belief systems, Emma Nolan wasn't what most people would call normal. (Actually, in most regards, she wasn't.)

She didn't place much stock in things like having luck or wishing on stars. Neither had ever really been on her side.

She hadn't quite made up her mind on God (or gods, or goddesses, or whatever). She took care of herself just fine.

The supernatural, though—vampires, zombies, magic, et cetera? There wasn’t much choice when it came to her belief in that, given the way her life had gone and the people she tended to hang out with—even if society as a whole still thought it was all fiction.

But the one thing that everyone believed in—and that Emma remained skeptical on, despite all the proof she'd seen—was soulmates. The idea of a predestined love dictated by some higher being before you were born and only verified by a random, tattoo-like birthmark seemed forced at best and unreliable at worst. It's not like the marks spelled it out—there was plenty of room for interpretation of the symbolism of each soulmark, which also meant plenty of room to have a heart broken.

She had trusted in them, once upon a time, when she met a guy named Neal who’d spent a great deal of his childhood on a ship. The mark splashed across her ribcage made sense with that, and his—of what looked like a feather on his bicep—seemed appropriate for someone like her, and with a secret like hers.

But then he found out what she was hiding, and things got awkward. And then he met Tamara and the feather turned out to be a palm leaf (apparently, that’s what that name means or something). And then things were said—tame things like, “it’s not you, it’s me and my destiny and blah-blah,” and hurtful things like “I couldn’t love someone like you anyways. Who could?”

Which meant Emma was the one left with the broken heart.

So what she’d once thought was a curse actually helped keep her heart safe, and since not everyone had a soulmark, it was easy to pretend she didn’t either.

And like he said, who could love someone like her, anyways?

Actually, she lied; there was one more thing she didn’t believe in, as presented to her by her boss one quiet Thursday afternoon.

“A sea monster? You can’t be serious, Regina.”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with it. I’m just the one who took the call.”

“Well, did you do a sanity check on the caller?”

“I didn’t have to; I know she’s insane. It’s Cruella Feinberg.”

“As in Crazy Cruella from back home? The one obsessed with dogs?” Emma and Regina both hailed from the tiny Maine town of Storybrooke—the definition of quaint. It was really no wonder they’d both escaped to Boston as soon as they could.

“The very one. And while she may have lost touch with reality, her money certainly has not.”

Emma sighed and leaned back in her desk chair. “How much?”

From where she was perched on the corner of Emma’s desk in the office of their bail bonds-slash-private investigation firm, Regina slid a folded up sheet of paper to her. Emma quirked an eyebrow with curiosity; Regina wasn’t typically one to keep things on the down-low like this, unless it was an exceptionally large payout. And this did not seem like the kind of case with one of those; usually, the people who hired them for this kind of situation were broke and/or not mentally sound, so they just played Ghostbuster—convinced the banshee or whatever it was to quit being weird, and charged the client only half of the original amount.

Emma picked up the slip and opened it. Boy, was she wrong this time. “Holy shit!” She exclaimed at the almost-six-figure sum. “This can’t possibly be real.”

“It is; I made her put up half up front to make sure she wasn’t joking. She did it without batting a heavily lined eye.”

Emma checked her desk calendar—was it April Fools or something? “What’s the catch here? This is too good to be true.”

“No catch. Unless me forcing you to take some paid time off counts.”

She scoffed. “This hardly seems like something to use my vacation time on.”

“It’s not. But it’s a two-week assignment in Storybrooke, and I’m not expecting this to take much effort on your end. Actually, I think it will end up being kind of perfect for you. Plus: you deserve it, Emma.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her desk chair, huffing; there was a reason she threw herself into work. It left less time for thinking, or being social, or any of those other things that tended to put Emma outside her comfort zone or onto things she’d rather not focus on.

It had been a while since she’d been home, though, and it might be nice to see her brother and sister-in-law...but it also seemed like she was taking advantage of the situation. “Are you sure, Regina? I know you’ve been busy with the Gold case; don’t you want me to stay and help with that?”

For the past several months, Regina had been investigating the disappearances of various supernatural beings—occasionally, they did get hired on legit cases from within their hidden community—with the most recent being an acquaintance of theirs, Tinkerbell, a fairy. A surprising number of her kind had gone missing, along with a werebear named Merida, a couple vampires, and a jeweler with a Midas-like touch. They had yet to find any solid leads, but all of the cases seemed to have a tie to the mysterious Mr. Gold. Emma had never met him herself, but his reputation alone had her worried for Regina’s safety whenever they met; there was no telling when a witch as gifted with magic as Regina was would be next.

(Having a boss that was also a member of the more mythical side of society—and aware of any potential limitations that might put on one’s available working hours—was certainly a perk to this job on its own, odd cases like the one currently in front of her notwithstanding.)

“I’ve got no leads right now, so there’s not much to help with,” Regina answered with a shrug. “Seriously, go spend some time with your family; have a girls night or two with Ruby; air out your feathers a bit.”

Emma gave a hard side-eye at that last comment—Regina could never resist a good bird reference around her—but she was out of arguments against taking the assignment.

She chewed on her bottom lip a bit before saying, “Promise you’ll call me if you need me back here?”

“Promise,” Regina answered, going so far as to draw an x over her heart with her finger. For Regina, that meant business.

“Then I guess I’m off to Storybrooke.”

After a quick call to her sister-in-law Snow, a fleeting trip to her apartment for some clothes and necessities hastily shoved in a threadbare duffel bag, and a stop at the gas station to fill up the tank of her 1972 yellow VW Bug, Emma was off on the 5-ish-hour drive up the coast. It wasn’t quite tourist season yet, but the snow had melted, so she opted for the slower route that kept her closer to the ocean, enjoying the panoramic views of the Atlantic as she drove.

The sign by the side of the road informing drivers that they were “Now Entering Storybrooke” eventually greeted her warmly as it had so many times before, crisp white on kelly green.

Before heading into town, she detoured down a dirt road to Cruella’s place. The Feinberg mansion was certainly more ostentatious than any other house on the road, towering over the smaller coastal cottages, but wasn’t the ridiculous display of wealth Emma had expected—it was more like an oversized bungalow made of light-colored brick.

Dogs started barking as soon as she rang the doorbell, and a shrill voice called at them to “shut it!” before the door swung open. Cruella looked much the same as she did in Emma’s memory, just with a bit more Botox: dramatic two-toned hair, a zealous amount of dark eyeshadow, and clothes just a touch too revealing.

“Oh, Emma darling, thank you so much for coming! I was thrilled when Regina told me you’d taken the case; none of those city types would ever believe me!” Cruella shouted, pulling Emma into a tight hug despite the fact that they’d hardly ever exchanged more than a few words (and that Emma had totally TP’d her house once with Ruby, but they had never been caught).

“Glad to...help…” Emma stammered, stunned at the contact. She had to take a deep breath once Cruella released her, before continuing, “So, can you tell me anything about what you’ve been seeing?”

“Oh, yes, yes—right this way!” The eccentric older woman turned on a dime and led Emma through her house, past the large painting of her now-dead husband (whose death had only been mildly suspicious), through the kitchen, and out to the massive deck that overlooked a semi-secluded cove.

“I see it almost every night when I’m having a nightcap, but only at night, so I think it’s nocturnal,” Cruella started explaining, gesturing dramatically toward the water. “It seems to be dark-colored, but it’s so hard to tell when there’s only a bit of moonlight.”

Emma wondered how strong those nightcaps were mixed, but continued on with a few more questions: how big was it (“Hmm, bigger than a dolphin, but smaller than a whale—but it has a tail like both of them.”), how long had she been seeing it (“A few months, give or take”), and why she’d hired them to investigate (“Well, I need to know what it is so I can be a hospitable host should it ever come ashore! I’m sure my friends would love to meet it!”).

None of it did anything to convince Emma that Cruella wasn’t still a few olives short of a martini, but she assured the widow that she’d get right on it.

“Let me know if I can help at all, and my property is certainly available to your use. I’m always open to some evening company,” Cruella added as Emma headed out.

“I think I’ll be okay, but thanks,” she answered, kind of quickly. “I’ll be in touch.”

She endured one more too-tight hug before hopping back in her car and starting the drive into town. Something told her it was all just the gin-fueled hallucination of a lonely old lady, but Regina was right—this case would probably work out perfectly for her, whether she found anything or not. She already spent most of her nights on the water; might was well get paid for it.

She’d get back to that later, though; now, it was time to see if the town rumor mill still worked like it used to—or at least to see how many people Snow had told of her arrival. Her old bedroom was already waiting for her, based on the last text she received, but it pretty much always was.

First things first, though: food. She easily navigated the all-too-familiar backroads and side streets that led to the center of town, one of the tiniest and most stereotypical little seaside villages known to man. Finding the diner was second nature, and her Bug looked right at home parked in front of it, almost like she’d never left. She actually recognized most of the cars nearby, but especially the two she’d parked in between; she smirked at knowing what—or rather, who—was likely waiting for her inside.

The same old bell rang against the door as she pulled it open, but was quickly drowned out by a high-pitched yelp—the only warning Emma had before being engulfed in another massive hug, but she was expecting this one. Still, she hadn’t quite braced herself enough.

“Ah, Emma! It’s really you; you’re HERE!” her best friend, Ruby Lucas, was shouting in her ear while proceeding to squeeze the life out of her.

“Let her breathe, Ruby!” a gruff voice barked from behind the counter. Despite the asphyxiation, Emma smiled at how little things ever changed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ruby apologized as she let go; she always forgot her own strength, and now that Emma was free, she could see Granny behind them, hands on her hips and shaking her head at her granddaughter’s energy. “You know how I get around the full moon,” Ruby added quietly.

“It’s fine,” Emma assured her, even though her voice was slightly strained. Despite her friend’s lithe form, few would guess that both she and her grandmother were members of the local pack of apex predators: werewolves.

(To say Emma had grown up around the supernatural was an understatement. Maybe that was why the two of them got on so well, even if they probably shouldn’t have.)

“But once that’s past, we HAVE to have a girls’ night, okay?” she continued, gushing and taking Emma’s hands in hers. “Oh, I’m just so glad you’re here!”

“Ruby, I’m not paying ya to block the door from the paying customers!” Granny shouted before Emma could reply.

“Granny, we both know you won’t let me pay,” Emma threw back, teasing.

“Well, maybe this is the day I do!” The old lady was known for her fierce temper and penchant for orneriness; but just like any she-wolf, she was also fiercely protective of those in her pack, both the ones who actually were and the ones she’d decided were.

Emma and Ruby both just rolled their eyes, still holding hands in the entryway, when she heard the clearing of a familiar voice.

“Ruby, are you trying to hog my sister?” David, ever the big brother, was standing there with his arms crossed, trying to give a stern look that they all knew was forced.

“Yup,” Ruby threw back without missing a beat. “I’m taking her home and locking her in my house, so she’ll be all mine!”

“That’s creepy, Rubes,” Emma protested, but David spoke over her.

“Oh? And what would your new girlfriend say about that?”

Emma’s jaw dropped and Ruby looked ironically sheepish. “Ruby! You didn’t tell me!” Emma scolded, lightly shoving her friend’s shoulder.

“I was getting there…” she answered. “It’s not the sort of thing you say over text!”

Emma was going to challenge that, but Granny cut them all off. “Ruby! Let that poor girl sit down and make her some food!”

“I’ll tell you later,” she said quickly, then dashed to the kitchen in her impractical red high heels.

“Aha, my plan worked; I have you all to myself!” David proclaimed, tugging Emma into a headlock.

“Seriously?” Emma complained, though it was muffled by her brother’s ridiculously muscled arm, covered as always in plaid flannel (today, it was blue; she was pretty sure he owned the full spectrum). “Aren’t we too old for this?”

“Never!” he answered, and started tugging her farther into the diner. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“You’re gonna have to let go of me, you know.”

“Nah.”

She could at least tell that they were near the end of the counter, where she and David almost always sat. She still couldn’t see a damn thing and the way David was pulling her was starting to put a strain in her side, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Emma, meet Killian; he’s new in town. Killian, this is my sister, Emma.”

Blindly, Emma held out her hand, hoping the yet-to-be-seen stranger would take it. “Nice to meet you!” she called out from the confines of her brother’s grip.

Moments later, warm, rough fingers lightly gripped hers, followed by the sound of a sinfully accented voice. “The pleasure is all mine, milady.” And then she felt soft lips on the back of her hand.

Holy crap, who was this guy? Did David tear him out of a Jane Austen novel or something? Granted, that wasn’t a power she was aware of anyone wielding, let alone her brother, but damn.

(Another question would be, “why do you even care about a guy you haven’t even seen?”, but Emma was really too stunned by their thus-far incredibly brief interaction to give that much thought.)

Enough was enough; she couldn’t breathe and David’s shirt smelled like the vet office he worked in. And she was also kind of super curious to see what this guy looked like.

Thankfully, David didn’t put up a fight when she pulled his arms off of her, and only whined a little bit when she smacked him in the chest. Then she turned to this Killian guy, and it was like time stood still.

Killian was easily the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. High cheekbones and long, thick lashes framed the bluest eyes she'd encountered, and gingery scruff canvassed a jaw chiseled from stone; a dark thatch of chest hair teased from the unbuttoned vee of a shirt just tight enough that little was hidden of his built upper body; and tousled dark hair hung artfully in his face while his perfect full lips smirked at her, cutting a dimple into his cheek.

The only thing she could think was that there was no way someone so attractive was human. (But she found herself eagerly hoping he was.)

“Emma; earth to Emma.” Suddenly, a hand was being waved in front of her face, pulling her out of her gaping—oh, crap, she was actually, full-on open-mouthed gaping at Killian. David was chuckling as she slammed her mouth shut, and she could feel heat rising on her cheeks, making them as bright red as the streaks in Ruby’s hair.

“I think she likes you,” David whisper-yelled to Killian as he took a seat next to him on the last stool.

“I tend to have that effect on people,” Killian answered in the same manner, throwing a poor excuse for a wink her way (but it still made her blush even harder).

Wait—what the hell was going on? She never got her feathers ruffled by a pretty face like this, and David never encouraged it. Regardless of her reaction, this was a setup if she ever saw one, and she wasn’t going to take the bait.

Trying to look cool (and probably failing but whatever), she brushed her hair behind her ears, smoothed her red leather jacket, and slid onto the empty stool next to Killian’s. “So, how the hell did you end up in Storybrooke? There really isn’t much here.”

“Well, there was a job,” he started, with a shrug and a chuckle—a deep, light thing that vibrated through her; she shivered involuntarily. “England didn’t have anything for me anymore and...this seemed like the place to start anew.” His smile didn’t fade, but his eyes softened a bit; she could tell that there was more to it than that, but she was the last person (or whatever she was) on earth to pry. So she kept it light.

“Really? You came here to start over? The US has so many problems right now.”

“So does the UK. Brexit and all.”

“Trump, though.”

“True. You might have that one.”

She was about to ask about his job (and was a little surprised at how quickly they fell into banter) when Ruby was in front of her, with her usual order and a wolfish grin.

“Don’t mind me; just dropping this off and I’ll get out of your feathers.” She cast a glance over at Killian, licked her lips at Emma, and then slunk away nearly as quickly as she’d shown up.

Emma just shook her head; seriously? Five minutes in town and everyone was already shipping her and the new guy? It was almost painful, but then again, that was Storybrooke.

Actually, something was kind of painful—her side. After her first (delicious) bite of grilled cheese, she set it down to stretch out, holding her arm over her head as she did.

“Are you taking up ballet now?” David teased. “Trying to learn some grace, finally?” Sometimes, he was such a big brother.

“Ha ha. No. We both know that's not possible,” Emma scoffed back. It really was ironic how clumsy she was, all things considered, but she didn’t think that had anything to do with this. “I think you pulled one of my muscles when you decided to drag me halfway across the diner. Thanks,” she deadpanned, then turned to Killian. “Sorry that you’re caught in the middle of this.”

He waved it off. “I had a brother; I know what it’s like.”

She didn’t linger on the fact that he used past tense, but still asked, “Was he as much of a ridiculous jerk as this guy?”

“Probably worse.”

The three of them fell into a combination of teasing and actual conversation over their meals. They discussed the differences between where he’d lived on the English coast and life here on the other side of the Atlantic. He explained that the proximity to the ocean was part of what drew him to their quiet little seaside town. For a moment, the mention of the sea sent up some Neal-related red flags, but then the conversation drifted into books and she forgot about it. That was his job—he’d taken the assistant librarian position in town, and was training to run things while the head librarian, Belle, went on a sabbatical to travel. And she catalogued the impressed, almost aroused way he arched an eyebrow when he found out she was a bounty hunter.

“You certainly strike me as a tough lass,” he observed, smirking wryly. “Remind me not to cross you.”

“Don’t skip your bail and we’ll be fine,” she teased back. “I’d hate to have to press that pretty face against the wall as I’m cuffing you.” She immediately blushed; she only ever flirted like that when she actually was trying to nab a skip—it had been years since she meant it.

He grinned, a devilish thing. “If you want to get close to me, you only have to ask. No need to use a hypothetical crime as an excuse.”

“Guys, I’m right here,” David protested, but his immediate smirk in Ruby’s direction told her that he really didn’t mind that much. (And honestly, it was kind of payback for all the sickeningly sweet scenes she’d been forced to witness between him and Snow over the years.)

Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t hold back the smile that took over her features. She attempted to hide it in her last onion ring, but caught Ruby grinning at her from the kitchen. So she hid behind a napkin instead, clearing her face of any potential crumbs and—wait, why did she care? It wasn’t like she was looking to date him or anything….right?

Oh, but it was so fun flirting with him.

He’d returned his focus to the few remaining fries on his plate (“chips,” he called them), and she noticed his brow furrow as he rubbed at his chest.

“Oh, I should have warned you; Granny’s will give you heartburn if you’re not careful.”

“I heard that!” Granny shouted from the far back of the kitchen; of course she did, wolf hearing and all.

He chuckled. “I’ll remember that next time.” The weight of “next time” hung over them as they shared somewhat coy half-smiles; normally, she’d refute anything further, but something told her she couldn’t avoid Killian if she tried.

Just when she’d worked up the nerve to give Killian her number—even though something told her David had already put it in his phone—said older, annoying brother broke the moment. “Killian, don’t you have to get back to work?”

His eyes grew wide and flashed to the clock on the wall. “Oh, bloody hell, yeah,” he cursed, jumping up off the stool. He tugged some cash out of his back pocket (which Emma couldn’t help but watch; it turned out that he had an incredibly attractive back pocket), threw it on the counter, and grabbed a black leather jacket from where it had fallen on the floor.

“It truly was a pleasure, Emma,” he said as he slipped it on, giving her a genuine smile. “Until next time.”

“You too,” she replied, almost breathlessly, and then watched as he said “Later, mate,” to Dave and headed out the door. (She may have once again taken the opportunity to admire his back pockets, and everything they held.)

Once he was gone, she swiveled around on her stool to glare at David. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, but David answered by taking a massive bite of his tuna melt and studying the ceiling tiles.

She knew this game, though, and continued to stare at him while she munched on her onion rings. No way was he getting out of this conversation.

Dramatically, he swallowed and then feigned looking at his watch. “Oh, man, the time. That’s my lunch break; I better—”

“You better explain why you were simultaneously trying to set me up,” she commanded, putting her hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, and then added with a confused tilt of her head, “but also not?”

“You noticed that, huh?” he replied, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t?”

“Think, no; hope—maybe?”

She just shook her head. “God, you sound just like—”

“Emma!” Speak of the devil, there she was; the shout of her name pulled her attention to the door, where David’s wife Snow had just arrived. Although, there was absolutely nothing satanic about Snow—in fact, she was quite the opposite: in addition to her pure-sounding name (her parents were definitely hippies), she practically exuded rainbows, unicorns, and all things angelic. (As far as Emma knew, she wasn’t actually an angel, but she wouldn’t be surprised to be proven wrong.)

Even the sun behind her made a halo in Snow’s pixie-cut hair as she practically ran across the diner. “Ah, I’m so glad you made it!” she basically shouted in Emma’s ear as she attacked her with a hug. “You’re supposed to text me these things, you know?”

“Yes, I know, Mom,” she answered, putting emphasis on the title; Snow might be her sister-in-law, but half the time, she acted more like a parent. But a parent you could get drunk with. “I was going to, but I went to Cruella’s first to find out about the job, and then got distracted here by a couple of fledgling matchmakers.”

Snow pulled back wearing a look of recognition, and turned to David. “Oh, was Killian here?”

“Ugh, I should have known you were in on it, too,” Emma grumbled, leaning back against the counter. “I expect this from you; but now you’re dragging David into it?”

“It was his idea!” Snow protested.

“Seriously?” Emma complained, and both ladies turned to him, but he was once again conveniently too interested in his meal to answer.

So Snow launched into an explanation. “A few weeks ago, he said, and I quote, ‘Don’t you think Emma and Killian would make a cute couple?’ I told him that neither of you would really appreciate being set up, but agreed that I could totally see it. And several times since then, he’s said he can’t wait for your next visit so he can introduce you two and, again, I quote, ‘watch the sparks fly’.”

David choked down his sandwich to throw back at Snow, “Okay, but you’re the one who said they’d have pretty babies.”

Now Snow was the one acting embarrassed. “It was just a hypothetical!”

Ruby was surreptitiously taking away her empty plate, but Emma always had a sixth sense where she was concerned, probably because of Ruby’s predator status. “And what’s your excuse?” she enquired.

“I just think you need to get laid, and Killian is sex on legs, so you better effing tap that.” She didn’t even bat an eye, giving her confident response and then taking the dishes back to the kitchen.

“You guys, seriously,” Emma whined, physically facepalming. She knew they meant well and just wanted to see her happy with someone. But they also all knew why she wasn’t keen on that idea, given what had happened with Neal. At least no one had brought up the “S” word; soulmates were a big deal to Snow, since she and David were, but she’d long since stopped trying to sign Emma up for a soulmate-finder service.

(She’d never admit it, but sometimes, when she watched her brother and sister-in-law’s relationship and thought of their matching marks—his a snowflake, hers a shepherd’s crook—she did truly long for the kind of companionship and support that they gave each other.

But then Neal’s words—Who could love someone like you?—would trickle back in, and she’d quickly give up that line of thinking.)

Her complaints apparently didn’t stop Snow from whispering to Dave, “So, how did it go?”

“Answer that and die,” Emma interrupted, still holding her face in her hand.

She could almost hear Snow’s grin. “That’s all the answer I need, I think.” Emma just groaned and pushed herself off the counter to standing.

“Well, I’m gonna head out before you start wasting your time planning a wedding that will never happen.” Snow looked like she was about to protest, so Emma cut her off. “I’ve gotta do some reconnaissance for my job, but then I’ll be back at your place by dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Snow conceded, sounding almost defeated. Emma hated doing that to her but her friend had an overactive imagination; it was always best to put a stop to things before her dreams regarding Emma’s love life got out of hand.

“Alright; see you later.”

Later that evening, Emma was curled up on the bed in her childhood room. David had inherited the house and the sheep farm that they grew up on after his mother (and Emma’s adoptive mother) passed away, so she always had a place when she came to Storybrooke. Despite what it may have seemed based on the warm reception earlier, she did actually make it home fairly regularly; this trip was just a bit out of her typical once-every-few-months schedule.

After figuring out where she’d best be able to do surveillance out by Cruella’s—in other words, where she could park near the water and not get noticed or caught in the tide—she’d headed back here for dinner and some Netflixing before they all went to bed. Emma wasn’t all that tired yet, though, so she was reading an old, worn out collection of fairy tales. Even if her life would never be one, she always enjoyed the stories and guessing at which ones were real. Though with this specific book—by Hans Christian Anderson—she’d never been able to decide.

The alarm on her phone went off at 10:50, startling her from her reading (and her musings on just how much of her life resembled The Ugly Duckling). The familiar tune of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake played out of the tiny iPhone speaker, letting her know, like it always did, that she had 10 minutes to figure things out. A quick glance at her weather app told her it was supposed to be a dry, if cool, night; but she’d be fine out there.

Quietly, she headed outside and down the well-worn path to the pond on the farm. Her phone read 10:55, so she walked a bit quicker to get there on time.

An ancient-looking but incredibly solid dock jutted out into the pond, and at the end, a less-old but still worn box was built in. Emma’s footsteps thudded as she hurried to it, and she flipped open the makeshift cabinet. As quickly as she could, she pulled off everything she wore (eternally grateful for the relative privacy of the farm) and threw it in, dropping her phone on top of the pile. 10:59.

She’d just closed the lid and stood up straight when she felt it: the familiar tingle that started in her spine and spread. In the near-full moon, the merman-shaped mark on her right side stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her hand pressed down on it; she never really paid it much thought nowadays, but it was odd that the muscle she’d strained earlier was directly beneath it.

The tingling feeling intensified, just like it did every night; by now, she had this whole thing down exactly.

Her lone graceful move was this: she raised her arms overhead as feathers covered her skin and flowed down from her limbs to make wings. Then, she took a running leap off the end of the dock, gliding on those wings for a brief moment as her neck lengthened, her legs shortened, her nose and mouth became a beak, and her whole body rearranged itself.

When it was done and that tingling feeling stopped, she smoothly landed on the surface of the water—as a swan.

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more, and let me know what you thought! Tagging some friends who might like it: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @stubble-sandwich @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @flipperbrain @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat

#cs ff #cssns #cs soulmates au #swan!emma #something in the water #my ff

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partysan · 7 years

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TUNE IN – EXPLORE – RESTORE Amidst a breathtaking scenery, Obonjan regenerates body, mind and soul. Reward yourself with the unique experience of music, yoga, meditation, fitness and sport.

This is just one of the many promises on Obonjan’s website. Marketing, SocialMedia, pictures, program – everything is superbly done – innovative, fresh, glossy, lifestyle-ish.

An adult glamping version of a festival away from the Springbreak Party Islands in Croatia with an extraordinary program of yoga, lectures, workshops, sport and music.

Sounds great – that’s what we wanted to see.

Obonjan is a 1.5 km long island on the Dalmatian coast, about 6 km before Šibenik. Originally conceived as an “island of youth” for boy scouts, the island is very beautiful and really serves all clichés of the Adriatic: turquoise-blue water, pine and olive trees, beaches and the obligatory background sound system for cicadas. With a small ferryboat you can reach the island about one hour from Šibenik harbour. In the 1950s, the scouts left behind a complete infrastructure of ports, houses and streets. All beautifully ingrown and a little wild. In 2016 the island was renovated by a Croatian/English event agency, partly rebuilt and put back into operation.

On the island there are tents for about 500 guests, divided into two categories. The tents are new and of high quality, equipped with AirCon and in the category “Forest Lodge” even with refrigerator, toilet and shower. For the tents of the “Bell Tent” category there are sanitary facilities available as on a camping site. All the public buildings we saw were in order, some of them new or renovated and clean.

Obonjan offers two restaurants and three food stalls (pizza, burgers, curry) for catering. In the big restaurant “The Kitchen” on the highest point of the island there is a breakfast buffet and a large seawater pool. The small restaurant “BOK” at the harbour opens at noon and serves mainly seafood. And then there is a small “Green Bar” which offers tea, smoothies and allegedly veggie / veganes food, but during our one-week visit the bar was mostly empty.

At the harbour there is a bar all day long which is played by DJs in the afternoon and in the evening. At events, parties or concerts there are more bars at the amphitheatre and at the open-air club. Then there is the “Zen-Den”, a wellness, massage and yoga temple and a pavilion for all kinds of events.

The seasonal programme is dedicated and of high quality. Every week a label, publisher, promoter, agency or other organisation takes care of the work. The curator brings together bands, DJs, performers, artists, trainers, coaches, etc. and brings the associated followers to the island. An interesting concept that reads itself thrillingly and holds many surprises and discoveries ready.

Here is an overview of the 2017 programme

[toggler title=”Curators” ] Gilles Peterson and Worldwide FM, Wanderlust, Electric Elephant, The Numinous, Late Night Tales, Hunger, The Hoxton, Unit 44, Supersoul, Fashion Revolution, Visual Fodder, Wildfitness, R&S Records , Ernest Journal, Secret Yoga Club, Gottwood, SHE, Phonica, She’s Lost Control, Soul & Surf, Creative Social, Refinery, Switch On, Serenebook, East of Eden, Yogarise, Your Space Berlin, and Yoga Hero.[/toggler]

[toggler title=”Tune-In – Music” ] Daniel Avery, Dave Maclean (Django Django), Flamingods, Garden City Movement, Gerd Janson, Gilles Peterson, Hercules and Love Affair, Horse Meat Disco, Jack Savidge (Friendly Fires), Jordan Rakei, Josefin Öhrn, Justin Robertson, Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, Khraungbin, Low Life (Bill Brewster & Frank Broughton), Man Power, Midland, Mister Saturday Night, Norman Jay MBE, Phaeleh, Prosumer, Ray Mang, Roy Ayers, and Sean Johnston.[/toggler]

[toggler title=”Explore – Talks + Workshops” ] Daniel Pinchbeck, Patternity, Laraaji, John Higgs, Lisa Luxx, Anthony Peake, Sam Bompas, David Bramwell, The Wild Swimming Brothers, Nick Jankel, Kto Wong, Loba Diaries, MA-TT-ER, and Super Human Earth.[/toggler]

[toggler title=”Restore – Wellbeing + Fitness” ]Jasmine Hemsley and Sound Sebastien, Patrick Broome, Meghan Currie, Seb Eubank, Ruby Warrington, Michael James Wong, Lani Rocillo, Steffy White, Alexandra Roxo, Toby Huntington-Whiteley, Swim Dem Crew, Susan Rozo, Chloe Brotheridge, Wolf Sister, Pip Roberts, Run Pack Berlin, Paula Andreewitch, Charlotte Welfare, Carlos Romero, Pandora Paloma, Jessica Skye, Bess Shipside, Gail Schock, and Kate Taylor.[/toggler]

And after a short acclimatization period you can get really busy. Here’s a typical Obonjan day.

[column size=one_quarter position=first ]07:30 am – 10:30 – 14:30 17:00 19:30 – -[/column]

[column size=two_quarter position=second ]Early Morning Yoga Breakfast Mediation – Session Lunchtime Beach Life, swim and/or swim and / or hang out at the harbour Readings, workshops, coachings, etc. on the tent veranda enjoy the view and sip the first glass of wine Sunset Yoga Dinner In the evening a concert, a party or a film on big screen?[/column][column size=three_quarter position=third ][/column][column size=three_quarter position=last ][/column]

Great! An Eco-Hipster-Art-Professional-Chiller-Paradise.

But on closer inspection we were really disturbed by some points, which we don’t want to share here as an offending online review and experience report, but as a call to guests, media and organizers.

If you look at the Obonjan SocialMedia and website and read through the programme, you will get the impression of a committed, sustainable, organic & eco-resort. Unfortunately, this is not the reality.

Disposable dishes, plastic cups, plastic cutlery, plastic straws, coffee to go paper cups even at the breakfast buffet. Not a single solar panel all over the island, no grey water recycling, no waste separation, delivery vans and cars on the island are normal petrol, no call to recycle or any other recognisable spirit for a sustainable island life. And the air-conditioning systems in the tents are not really necessary either.

The team, the employees on Obonjan seem to be recruited partly from unpaid volunteers, who are mostly gastro beginners and also by the bank only minimal-friendly. But the organisation worked out well for us – but good mood feels different.

Vegetarian or even vegan dishes are scarce. In the restaurants and stalls there are hardly any meatless or vegan options (or the veggie paddies at the Burger Grill or the summer rolls at the Green Bar are just randomly off…). If you are not into meat, fish and cheese, you should bring enough food from the mainland, otherwise it could get cramped. Anyway – Basically the food was good to OK everywhere.

At some bars, menus and drinks disappear inexplicably and drinks seem to be charged according to a kind of daily rate; especially the later the evening, the more volatile the prices can become. And watch out for the Beer/Lemonade Mix Shandy – then you will soon have two drinks on your bill: a small beer and a lemonade = 2 x 36 kuna / 9,80 € – without tip: -) Tricky is the payment even if you haven’t brought enough kuna. But it gets complicated when you pay in € and get Kuna change back. Then it becomes expensive and here too there are different, suboptimal exchange rates.

In the little shop with limited, completely commercial offer and prices like at the bar there is a ban on photos. On demand: why? … there’s the answer “Because my boss said so.” Which, by the way, is something you get more often as a curious guest.

The prices are not cheap all over the island.

Beer 0,3l = 35 Kuna / 4,70 € Beer 0,5l = 52 Kuna / 7 € Corona 48 Kuna / 6,50 € Cuba Libre 85 Kuna / 11,50 € Burger 65 Kuna / 8,80 € Pizza 85 Kuna / 11,50 € Curry 90 Kuna / 12 € Breakfast buffet 100 Kuna / 13,50 € Small Water 20 Kuna / 2,70 €

But hey – it’s an island and not the mainland, every can of beer is brought by ship.

All this is not dramatic and doesn’t deserve a rip-off stamp.

The somewhat „Mediterranean“ gastronomy practise has to be taken sporty and nobody can be really good and friendly all the time. But the impression transported by the Obonjan communication of an Eco Village, which is operated only by yogis, gurus, hedonists, vegans and mindful eco guerrillas, we see then nevertheless as genuine label fraud.

The people we met in Obonjan were just as amazed and disappointed about all the mentioned non-ecological points. Obonjan manages to bring a great, open, interesting and mixed audience to the island and then disappoints on the spot with small and big failures, which leave a more than bland aftertaste. Obonjan could be so much more.

Obonjan could be a lighthouse for the entire tourism industry of the Adriatic Sea. The advertising for this has already been placed, and the appropriate guests have already arrived.

“The spirits I called…”

Many of the Obonjan visitors we spoke to agreed that there will be a lot of feedback when you bring such an environmentally conscious target group to the island and then do not fulfill expectations. The pressure on the organizers must be big. The complaints, concerns and comments must take on alarming proportions. All curators have to be asked whether they will continue to support this or demand changes.

You can’t have a wellness / ecological festival, throwing around with disposable dishes and hardly offering veggie food without an echo of the guests?

Actually we are Obonjan fans. But just disappointed Obonjan fans. As a real eco island, the 2018 season might be fully booked already – think about it.

The Obonjan project is a respectable feat of strength, the organisation, the infrastructure, the booking, all this is not stomped out of the ground in one season. We realize that. In the second year the shop seems to be running a little more smoothly, but in many areas there is still room to move upwards.

We could imagine going back to Obonjan again. But next time we’ll ask what has changed. And whether the eco awareness yoga meditation marketing show has perhaps even become a reality by now. We wish the whole Obonjan team much success for the third and many more years.

Go-bonjan! www.obonjan-island.com

Tips for the Obonjan trip: Bring: Eye mask (the tents are bright), Ohropax (the tent walls are thin: -). Food/Beverage: a bottle of wine, a few beers, some snacks and a couple of water bottles are allowed and useful. Of course, the organizers also have to earn money, but you can also bring along what you consume in the tent. Enough Kuna: the exchange rates on the island can become crazy. Except in the two restaurants, cash is used everywhere. There is an ATM on the island, but we didn’t try it. Internet / W-Lan: There are top free wifi almost everywhere on the island. Water: The tab water is drinkable. Children: Obonjan is not really meant for families / children. Guests: The promoters come from the UK, so most of the guests are british but we’ve met people from all over the world. Arrival with your own car / parking lot in Sibenik: We drove with our own car from Munich to Sibenik and after 8 hours of driving we stayed for one night in Hotel Jure **** / Solaris Beach Resort (170 € double room incl. breakfast). The resort has a large, guarded parking lot and we have parked the car there for a week (7 € / day) Taxi / Bus: From the resort there is a bus for 17 Kuna p. P. to Sibenik. With Uber the trip from Sibenik Harbour to the hotel costs 45 kuna, taxis in the city wanted three times as much for the same trip – they just haven’t heard the gong and keep trying to advantage from tourists.

Deutschsprachige Version dieses Artikels @ www.fernwehblues.de

Obonjan Island? Our Experience with the Million-€-Wellness-Organic-Musik-Festival TUNE IN - EXPLORE - RESTORE Amidst a breathtaking scenery, Obonjan regenerates body, mind and soul. Reward yourself with the unique experience of music, yoga, meditation, fitness and sport.

#English #festival

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bibliophileiz · 7 years

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Review of Devil’s Bargain: Or, The Only Villain I like This Season is Sister Jo

Continuing my pattern of reviewing b*cklemming episodes as a coping mechanism, here are my thoughts on Supernatural’s latest episode “Devil’s Bargain.”

Sister Jo

I admit, I got worried when I saw that first overly-sexual grace draining scene, but overall I liked Sister Jo/Anael -- if for no other reason than that it gives Season 13 an actual good villain. (Also apparently there’s a nine-year’s-long fandom theory Anna is the angel Anael? I had no idea.) Now if all those testosteroned bozos would clear the stage for her, we might have a cool showdown at the end of the season.

She’s kind of a Crowley 2.0 in that she understands the art of manipulation and surviving by her wits. I have no doubt she could play both sides easily. There’s still some cagey dialogue, no doubt -- Jo using the phrase “cost efficient” right after saying she’s a pretty good businesswoman made me roll my eyes. But given how badly b*cklemming ran Crowley’s character into the ground last season, I’m surprised Anael’s as well written as she is. I’d love to see her go toe to toe with a newly-powered-up Rowena

I’d also love to see a scene between Anael and Cas in which Anael’s “negotiating” the return of “the king of heaven’s son.” She’s reading it like a hostage situation and Cas is reading it like she’s betrayed heaven by propelling Lucifer to the throne. It will also be very interesting to see how Cas, in that circumstance, would react to learning of Lucifer’s promise to restore the angels’ wings.

Speaking of....

The angels

If those six angels kneeling before the throne at the end are the only angels left, then I’m actually all for the angels (sans Cas) getting their wings back. I’ve felt for a while the angels are kind of toothless now. Remember when Cas was so terrifying back in Season 4 that one demon wouldn't even say his name, just called him “the end?” It was chilling.

If you still have a whole host of angels left, bringing the wings back would feel kind of old hat. But if there are only a handful left and most of those have wings because they’re serving Lucifer, that makes them a threat again without just rehashing old plots. And I especially like the idea of Anael flashing her wings at Cas and his truck.

Ketch

Why, why, why is Ketch back? WHY?

Also, why does he keep bringing the same dumb deal to the Winchesters? “Let’s work together! Huzzah!” He actually says “huzzah!” Cas knocking him out was my favorite part of the episode. If only he had stayed in the trunk.

Asmodeus has more confusing powers

Did Asmodeus mind-whammy Donatello? I feel like maybe he did, but I’m not going to lie, I stopped paying attention to the scene as soon as I realized it was between Donatello and Asmodeus (read: immediately). I vaguely remember thinking he did something I’ve never seen a Prince of Hell do before but I was concentrating really hard on CandyCrush, so who knows?

Who’s on first?

I did not ... understand the motel scene.

So ... Sam, Dean, and Cas corner Anael outside the motel and she leads them back to her and Lucifer’s motel room. She knocks on the motel door and Lucifer answers, only for Dean and Sam to step into the room.

Lucifer then turns around and walks to the back of the room, only to have his way blocked ... by Cas.

Who just appeared. Magically.

Where did Cas come from? Is there a door in the back of the motel room? Where does it lead to? Did Lucifer and Anael get adjoining rooms? Why did they need two rooms? They don’t sleep, and they seemed to be having pillow talk on one shared bed anyway. Does the door lead to a balcony? Did Cas climb up the balcony? Why didn’t we get to see that?

But wait, there’s more. While Lucifer is distracted torturing Team Free Will, Ketch bursts in and throws ... something ... that flashes in a way that would be dramatic and impressive if this were Friends, but instead is kind of a letdown in a show where flashing stuff usually means someone’s about to die because the flashing thing doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t affect Lucifer or Anael, who fly away, but it also doesn’t seem to affect, you know, any of the other three people in the room.

What was it? What was it supposed to do? Kill Lucifer? Incapacitate Lucifer? In that case, why doesn’t it kill or incapacitate Sam and Dean? Does it only work on angels? If so, why doesn’t it kill or incapacitate Cas?

How did Ketch even get out of the trunk? This is the only question anyone in the episode thinks to ask, and the answer is: “I’m Ketch.”

Well ok then.

Roller Skate Girl and Cake Boy

The meet cute at the beginning gave me serious Charmed vibes, probably because my dad saw it and commented the woman looked like Phoebe Halliwell. Anyway, I kind of want to see b*cklemming try and write a Hallmark movie now. I’d drunk-watch the hell out of that movie.

Donatello

At least there’s a point to him being back this time even if he was the most forgettable part of the episode.

Also, when Kevin gets to our world, what’s going to happen? Will he and Donatello both be prophets? Will their powers cancel each other out? Will one be The One and Only prophet and the other go back to being a normal nerd? The people demand answers!

Dean and Cas are married

Dean and Cas aggressively apologizing to each other is my jam. Also I loved the “We’re boned” “Epically” exchange, followed by Sam’s WTF face.

Magical Maguffin

Oh, we have an archangel blade now? Nice to have heard of that before. Who names these things?

I mean, we do already have a weapon that kills archangels. You know, the Lance of Michael, the one specifically created to kill an archangel, wielded by an archangel, and which is currently in the custody of our dashing heroes?There would have actually been a point to bringing Ketch back if he told Asmodeus about the lance, given Mary told him about it last season. And then there would have been a point to Asmodeus if he disguised himself as Cas or someting and snuck into the bunker to take it. But that would have been an effective use of the villains, and we can’t have that.

Of course, we all know why the archangel blade was really introduced....

The one we’ve been waiting for

The archangel Gabriel -- our world’s version of him -- is back.

So ... on the one hand, of all the “dead” characters to bring back, Gabriel is one of the ones who makes the most sense, given the way he died is a way we now know archangels don’t really die. (Unless I’m remembering wrong. Doesn’t Lucifer stab him with an angel blade?) On the other hand ....

Yeah, that’s too many characters back and too much plot twisting.

Admittedly, I was never personally invested in Gabriel. I like the character fine, and I think Richard Speight Jr. is a great director and actor and seems to be a sweet person. I was totally on board for an AU version of him hanging out with AU Cas or AU Michael. But I was happy for our version to stay dead.

Now, if it were Charlie who came back, I would be throwing confetti, doing back flips, and excusing whatever plot gymnastics it took to make that happen, so I understand the jubilation of Gabriel’s biggest fans, and if one of the two people reading this are in that number, I am happy for you guys, I really am.

But I am also very, very worried about where the season’s going because it’s more than halway over and we have the following to wrap up:

- Jack’s sinister (ish) powers and his attempts to control them. - AU Michael’s plan to invade. - Ketch’s unnecessary double agent plot. - Asmodeus’ attempts to seduce Jack to the Dark Side and take over Hell. - Lucifer’s takeover of Heaven and attempts to win over his son. - Possibly the angels’ wings coming back. - Possibly Rowena’s power-up. - Run-of-the-mill Monster of the Week episodes, like the Scooby Doo one we’ve got coming up.

And now the showrunners want to throw Gabriel and an assassination plot into the mix?

It’s just a lot. And it’s the fifth -- count ‘em, fifth -- “dead” character to come back this season. It’s starting to feel like Game of Thrones or a really weird soap opera.

I feel like the showrunners are just throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks and I don’t know how they plan to weave it all together. I guess they could save Rowena’s plot (incidentally the only one I really care about) for Season 14 and/or Wayward Sisters (neither of which have been greenlit yet as far as I know) which narrows it down a little but ... only a little.

The only way I can see it coming together is if the three separate archangel camps -- Camp Michael (AU angels), Camp Lucifer (Anael and remaining angels), and Camp Gabriel (Asmodeus, Ketch, and the demons) -- all come for Jack at once, and the Winchesters have to scramble to protect Jack and help him wield his powers against all of them.

Which is a cool idea on paper, but still a lot to juggle. Here’s to hoping Dabb and Co. can pull it off.

#supernatural spoilers #how i learned to stop worrying and tolerate b*cklemming #there is a lot going on this season #who invited ketch?#but sister jo is a badass and i want her hair #also this post is cautious about gabriel's return #that is not in any way meant to be taken as hate for the character who i really do like

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finesseandbones-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter 5

-- Day 3 Of Nostalgic Nightmare --

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M a y 1 7 , 2 0 3 X

8 : 4 5 P . M .

S a n s ' R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r B a s e

L o c a t i o n u n k n o w n

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-- (BACK TO YOUR POV) --

I woke up with a body ache as my eyes try to regain my normal eyesight.

I was expecting that I'm back at my prison room, where Sans used to imprison me.

But I didn't wake up in there.

I woke up in a bed, a comfy one.

Regaining my energy, I tried stretching my arms and legs, but ended myself up suffering in pain.

Then I realized that my clothes were changed.

DID THAT FUCKTARD CHANGED ME LAST NIGHT?

That perverted imbecile.

I quickly tried to sit, but all these muscle pain triggered and guess what, I failed to do so.

While suffering from the pain, Sans came in with pills and my breakfast in a tray.

"Good morning, cookie. Did ya sleep well?" He asked while putting down my breakfast beside me.

My breakfast are newly cooked waffles with syrup and a tall glass of milk.

Damn this is delicious. Never expected this from a crazy ass skeleton.

"Still aching everywhere. Can't even make myself move." I replied weakly as he chuckled.

"Here, let me help you ; nice and slow." He walked beside me and supported my back and the back of my thighs with his hands.

When he attempted to carry me, I felt a sudden jolt of pain as I groaned and closed my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He assures me as he caressed my back.

"Yeah, I guess." I mumbled as he continued to help me sit up.

After seconds of pain and suffering, I successfully sat down in the bed with my back leaning against the pillow and my lower part resting on his bed.

"Okay. Can you feed yourself?" He asks as he settles my breakfast in a tray on my lap.

"I d-don't know. My body's really painful." I groaned as he sat beside me on the edge of his bed.

He grabbed the fork and knife beside my plate and started slicing the waffles into medium pieces that are small enough for my mouth to munch.

"Open wide, babe." He commanded as I opened my mouth to get a bite of his delicious art

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M a y 1 7 , 2 0 3 X

9 : 1 8 P . M .

S a n s ' B e d r o o m , S a n s ' R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r B a s e

L o c a t i o n u n k n o w n

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After finishing my meal and taking my medicine, Sans and I had a little conversation.

"So, uh, do you think that this war will end?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but heck am I tired of doing this." He ranted.

"Tired of what?"

"Of-" His phone suddenly rang as he picked it up from a small table and answered it.

"Hello?"

"She's not fine. She attempted to escape but a part of Undyne's army attacked her to make sure she was weak enough."

"Yeah, weak enough to KILL HER!"

"What do you mean I need to bring her there? Alphys, she's weak and when she tries to move a limb, she'll lose her mind from the pain!"

This imbecile is strangely thoughtful...

and who the hell is Alphys?

"Use a wheelchair? I seriously can't move her limbs remember?! Hey, look. Don't be sad because I am mad at you, okay?"

"Oh, she urgently requested? heh. okay. I'll talk to her instead. Okay?"

"Bye." He ended the call with this 'Alphys' thing

"Who was that?"

"It was Alphys. I'll explain to you later who she is. Right now, I need to call someone else. Excuse me for a minute."

He stood up and walked to the door but he stopped.

"Wait. You'll end up getting bored in here. I might take long but I'll let you watch a movie." He said as he grabbed a cd compiler

(AN: Those circular thing with jean-ish texture and a zipper and when you open it, you'll see cds)

He scanned through the compiler as he smirked and pulled out a cd.

You bitch don't tell me you're going to let me watch something kids wouldn't watch.

"This is one of my favorite movies. It's 10 Things I Hate About You. You'll enjoy it. I promise."

He turned on the television and the cd player and inserted the cd inside of it, then the opening started playing.

"There we go, I'll be back soon, I promise." He smiled as he left me all alone in his room.

Oh boy.

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M a y 1 7 , 2 0 3 X

9 : 3 6 P . M .

S a n s ' R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r B a s e

L o c a t i o n u n k n o w n

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-- Sans' POV --

I rushed to my living room and dialed Undyne's number on my phone.

"HELLO, THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS SPEAKING, HOW MAY I-"

Oh, wait. I forgot that Papyrus is her "secretary".

"Hey, Pap. I need to talk to Undyne right now."

"OH! HELLO BROTHER! WAIT A SECOND."

(Background sounds)

"UNDYNE! UNDYNE! SANS WOULD WANT TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!"

"GIVE ME A MINUTE, PAP!"

*mumbles something that I can't quite hear*

"What the hell do you want, G?"

"ARE YOU FUCKING-"

Contain yourself, G.

I inhaled as I gave out my best tone.

"Look, the human is badly injured, can you give us a couple of weeks for her to-"

"A COUPLE OF WEEKS? G, ARE YOU SERIOUS? MY ARMY IS GETTING TIRED OF LISTENING TO THE SAME LESSONS OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND MY ARMY'S DECREASING AT POPULATION COUNT! Who knows, some cunt killed a part of them." She shouted, making me throw my phone on the floor.

Thank Asgore that this phone is "surface-proof".

"I know and STOP SCREAMING"

Actually, I'm the cunt who killed one part of your army, Undyne just to keep the lady safe so uhm, yeah. I know.

"But, if it's okay with you and Alphys, can you please try to make Mettaton go here, or maybe Alphys can come too." I hesitantly requested.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS, G? YOUR HOUSE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HUMAN'S BASE! YOU'RE JUST COVERING UP IN THERE TO CAPTURE HUMANS LIKE THAT NITWIT YOU HAVE THERE!"

"For your information, I kinda teleported the whole house to the monster base and STOP SCREAMING IN THE NAME OF ASGORE!

She's not a nitwit! She's fragile and brave. All that she wanted is for this war to end like the other humans desire. Just, please. She's too weak. We're on the surface so food won't heal her that much, even the surface CORE won't do much."

I'd dare not to say this but, Undyne. If you consider her kind as nitwits, then fuck me; she's the bravest and most amazing nit wit ever.

"Wow. That was fast. Okay, fine. I'll give you 3 weeks. After that, I'll send Alphys and Mettaton there. Take care of her with all your dignity. I'll-"

"Christ, Undyne. Stop with those corny-ass speeches. Papyrus will end up training you with his greatness."

"Whatever. Oh and I'll send the Dummy and Muffet there to keep her company. Sounds good?"

FINALLY!

"Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks, Dyne!"

"Don't call me that!" Heh, must be irritated.

"Ok. Sure, whatever. Welp, gotta check how she's doing. See ya."

"See ya, lazy wondernerd."

Muffet.

MUFFET!

"Wait! Undyne!"

"What?!"

"How's Muffet doing? I accidentally crushed her because of my lazers before I kidnapped the human."

"Oh, she's been recovering. When Cake knew about the accident, Cake told me that If she ever saw you again, She'll swear to Asgore she will kill you."

"Oh, I am sooo scared huhu. Anyways, See you soon!"

"She wasn't joking, actually. Cake can get really vicious and relentless than Muffet."

"Yeah I am aware of that. I really need to go now. Bye!"

"Bye again."

Bless this angry fish, Asgore. Bless that fish.

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M a y 1 7 , 2 0 3 X

9 : 4 5 P . M .

T h e K i t c h e n

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After my heated conversation with Undyne, I plan to make the human's dinner for tonight.

I don't feel hungry that much but I'm sure that the human's hungry.

I chopped some onions, garlic, bell peppers and mushrooms. I started preheating a pan and a pot of water and opened a pack of pasta. If Pap ever had teleporting powers like mine, Oh he will want some of these and run around while shouting "GOOD SHIT" in every angle of the house.

(TIME SKIP LOOOOL)

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M a y 1 7 , 2 0 3 X

1 0 : 1 3 P . M .

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After the cooking process has been done, I did some plating stuff and made sure it's worth her health. I grabbed her pills and a glass of water and placed it on the tray. I grabbed the tray and went back to my room. I opened the door with my powers.

As I opened the door, I saw her still in the same position, still watching the same movie but in a different scene. This is the scene where Kat volunteers to dictate her poem (that was dedicated to Patrick) in class.

"Hey sweetcheeks! How are you doing?" I asked her.

"I feel sad for Kat because she thinks that Patrick was playing her feelings! Buuuut on the other hand, I blame Joey for being a dickass."

"Heh, same here. I'll prepare a box of tissue in case you'll cry on the next thing that will happen."

"What do you mean?"

I pointed my finger on the tv as Kat started her poem:

" I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much that it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. "

Prue started tearing up as I chuckled a bit. She looks so fucking cute.

"What's so funny?" She angrily asked me as I smiled

"Nothing, nothing. I remembered something." I remembered you being the cutest fucker when I first talked to you.

She scoffed as she continued watching the tear jerking scene.

" I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. "

After Kat ran out of class (in the movie), I glared at Prue, all wet with her tears.

I chuckled a bit.

But I asked myself;

Will she love me back?

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EDITED!

- Lennie x

P.S. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU IS A GOOD MOVIE. WATCH IT HAHAHA

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Chapter 4

Chapter 6

#eleutheromania #sans #gaster!sans #undertale #undertale 2017

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