#with Lizzie's death it's all just kicked off in my head

[rory-multifandom-mess]

Short Drabble for Murder Drones Episode 8

I can see this so clearly in my head animated in the murder drones style so don't mind me.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

"Go long, Uzi!" Thad shouted, throwing the green-glowing rail gun down.

He couldn't actually see who was down there, since it was so foggy and far away, so he just assumed Uzi would be down there. What he could see, though, was that solver thing that had been terrorizing them.

He didn't have the full story, but all he knew was that it was dangerous and scary. Despite how much he wanted to help, he knew it would be in his best interest to stay out of it. Throwing Uzi the railgun was the best he could do.

At least, he thought he'd be staying out of it.

As much as seeing was a problem, hearing was much worse. He couldn't understand a word that was being said.

It blinked in and out of existence for a moment, when suddenly, it was gone.

Then he heard it clearly.

"Uzi's, not here."

As if it had just spawned in, next thing he knew, it's horrible, disfigured face was in front of him, grabbing his wrist and whipping him around using a strange tentacle from it's back.

Bright, larger tentacles burst from the center of the planet, grabbing onto the facility it had just come out of and dragging it toward the core. Thad winced at the sudden burst of light, staring into the eyes of death.

Thad finally got a close up look of the horror they'd all been fighting against. It's face was crusted over and turning red and black, the flesh rotting and cracking. It's X eyes, tainted with the lifeless yellow which surrounded them stared into his core, making his oil run cold.

The feeling of it's tentacle around his wrist was cold and unforgiving, strong and aggressive.

Everything seemed to slow down as dread sinked in, his eyelights hollowing as stress lines appeared beneath them.

It grinned, it's mouth contorting into a horrid, toothy smile as another tentacle wrapped around his other arm.

"But, you will do for a nice snack." It said as it began to pull from either wrist.

"Thad!" Lizzy cried from behind him, her usual uncaring demeanor fading to show her caring side.

Thad grit his teeth together, pain coursing through him. He tried to fight back, tugging back on his arm.

His attempt was futile though, only further straining the wires and internal mechanisms of his body. It wrapped another tentacle around his body and pulling harder.

Something in his arm snapped and he yelped in pain, oil briefly spurting out of a breakage in his shoulder. Solver stuck it's tongue out at the sight.

Suddenly, Uzi's voice shot through the air.

"Hey! Hands off the frat boy!" She shouted, her wings slicing through solver's tentacles, separating them from Thad. It seemed surprised for a moment, only for Uzi to spin around and kick it in the face, sending it back to the ground as her mouth-tail-thing caught the railgun.

Thad's arm fell limp, though he didn't realize it yet due to the weightless feeling. The sudden gush of wind from Uzi's arrival pushed him back ever so slightly, toward Lizzy.

He gave Uzi a gentle smile.

"Thanks, Zi."

Uzi glanced back at him and nodded, a determined smile on her face.

"Gotta protect the people who still care."

With that, she flew away, back down to the ground to stand between Solver, V, and N.

Lizzy managed to reach out, grabbing Thad by the shoulders and pulling him close, hugging him tightly.

"You idiot. Stop doing that," She scolded quietly.

Thad patted her arm, chuckling.

"I'll try."

.

.

.

ok thanks for reading bye :D

[evita-shelby]

I was thinking because Jack is only in a tiny bit of Season 6 Maybe Jack and Eva could go to Arrow House, and the scene with Tommy, Mosley and Diana plays out, and it goes on from there with whatever you have in mind! x

Thanks I had too much fun with this lol

spoilers for National Anthem, will likely become a chapter in it.

Eva x Jack

cw:mentions of drugs, cheating, death, hauntings, one use of a slur and child death.

taglist: @zablife @justrainandcoffee @thegreatdragonfruta

gif by @mrs-gray

A Change of Course

The house is dark and somber, not at all how theirs is.

The décor was impeccable, the contrast of the pale ceiling and its devotion to the memory of a woman who haunted the man who killed her giving it the same coldness of a mausoleum.

There is no life here, not after the only thread of light in its mistress’ life cut short by the curse that is her husband.

Shelby who couldn’t get his head out of his ass and just be there for their daughter’s last moments.

Elizabeth Shelby had already packed her things; she just needs a reason to take her stepson ---who’s own mother killed by the curse he has inherited--- and run.

And tonight, she will get it.

“Oh, no, Gina's running wild, y'see. Harrods, dоpе, amphetamines, lords and ladies, you know, the whole English aristocracy thing. Fսck wine --- whiskey. Shelby, you havin’ whiskey?” After that little adventure torturing the informant, Jack is as if he’d taken a hit of the opium they are dealing.

The man had been wild, alive like he hasn’t been since Atlantic City. There had been blood on his hands when he returned to the hotel and neither had cared about the state they left the dining room in their suite after.

 “I'll stay on wine.” Shelby does not drink, doesn’t eat nor do anything than sit there with his guilt and pain as if he wasn’t the architect of his own misery.

Eva’s let Jack do most of the talking and once they cleared the table of dessert and brought out more wine, she took the opportunity to observe and see what she can use for later when the two interlopers kick the box from under Shelby and watch him choke by the noose he made with their help.

“Fuck wine, more whiskey. I'm celebrating. Celebration, you know. Getting off this fucking island.” Jack has never been known for his sensitivity to others. Only cared for what was his and the rest can get fucked for all he cared.

He saw himself in Shelby, but Shelby fell short of his expectations. What man leaves his dying child in search of a fantasy he made in his head?

There had never been a curse, just lies he paid others to tell him so he could absolve himself over the curse that befall on Grace because he married her.

Ruby’s death was not magic, not a curse no matter how much it looked like it was. Just a disease caught from a playmate at the Christmas Pantomime her daddy was too busy to be at.

“You see, the thing with England, the currency here, it's not money. Nah. You got bored of money a long time ago. ‘Cos you know anyone can have money; you can fucking... you can fսcking find money in the mud. You can forge money. Mr. Shelby, you can steal money, am I right?” Jack goes on his tirade against the symbolism of wine and the upper class.

He cared about the working class, about reforms and yet his fortune is made by trampling over everyone else.

Jack’s money and power were earned in equal parts ambition and spite.

“The currency here, it's blood. And Mr. Shelby knows that better than all of them. Blood here is like wine, like the vintage wine in that bottle. It's the label, it's the terroir, it's the grape that makes the wine. Who fսcking cares about the glass around it?

And you, my friend, you're an American.”

At these words, Lizzie seems to perk up. She is a woman everyone underestimated because of who she used to be. As if the blue bloods didn’t have whores who did it for money like she had to.

“You fսcking smash the glass, you spill the blood, and you spend their currency to get what you want. Am I right?

When you come to America, I will show you things.” Jack knows the wife hasn’t been made aware of the deal. Unaware of what is waiting for him in Miquelon Island.

“You’re going to America?”

“To Canada, Lizzie, to collect payment for the shipment. I need to do it myself.” Shelby couldn’t trust anyone after Grace fucked him up in ’19. Not Grace, not Lizzie, not anyone.

He used to trust Lizzie, but now that he thinks he’s dying he knows he cannot trust her not to let him die and make this cold tomb home to another ghost.

“And who will be going with you?” the grieving mother asked, knowing why he goes.

He craves death, Shelby has always wanted to die. All his victories were hollow, the melancholia never left no matter how much he pretends it has.

Not Grace, not Lizzie, no one could cure it because people aren’t cures. No one told Shelby that and now a little girl is dead.

But he won’t find death. Just the knowledge that the King of the New World won’t let him die as punishment for his sins.

It’s easy to die, nothing worse than being forced to go on living and redeem yourself when everyone you love hates you.

“Michael will be there to watch his back.” Jack knows damn well what he’s doing. He hates Tommy for the part he played in Clive’s death years ago. Clive who had been his only real friend in Harvard where everyone hated him for being him.

“Another journey, Tommy?” Lizzie begs him to reconsider with her question.

Lizzie was more than capable of running the legal businesses with them and King Solomons’ heir had always been in their pocket.

But Shelby wouldn't be given his eternal rewards until the second great war ends in 1945.

“Five million, Mrs. Shelby. It’s worth a little cruise, don’t you think?” It was personal. Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass about Michael; this was his way of avenging Clive MacMillan.

“You know whiskey does talk, Mr. Nelson, and sometimes whiskey is…very eloquent, but five million, Mr. Nelson… Now, that is a legacy. And when I come back, I will know everything.” Shelby finally speaks, knowing Michael will be the one to come home in a box.

Shelby like Jack won’t die until old age comes for them. Jack knows that this was not about killing him. The soul is already dead, there was no need to kill the body.

“I see myself so clearly in you, Thomas Shelby. You are a man with a bright and glittering future.”

They needed him for the hell to come, unfortunately.

When the Butler came to bring the news, the dreaded visitors had arrived, Eva hid her relief at the real show finally starting.

“We were on our way to my constituency in Smethwick and I heard our American friend was in Birmingham and that he was coming here, so we came to say one last farewell.

“Champagne,” He orders as if Shelby was his servant as they are shown in. “We have much to celebrate.”

“It isn't that I wasn't sure Mr. Shelby would give you an excellent send-off, I just felt, since telegrams and wires and letters can so easily be intercepted, we might confirm all that we've achieved during your visit over champagne.” Mosley waltzes in like he owns the place and seats himself across from her and beside Mrs. Shelby.

His equally repugnant fiancé hides her distaste at having to sit beside Eva but doesn’t refrain from making this about her. “It is remarkable how quickly our relationships have developed. So many triangles in this room. Everyone except from Mr. and Mrs. Nelson are the point of a triangle.”

“How am I part of a triangle?” Lizzie’s question is heard and yet Mosely tries to divert the attention from this juicy reveal by talking of business with her husband.

Eva has made it a point to show how little she cares for Diana Mitford and her husband knowing they cannot afford to lose Jack’s backing. If they knew they were being played by both gangsters here, they wouldn’t be so bold as to have even shown up.

Jack’s buzzed enough to let her interruption slide, but those two fuckers will regret meeting her for the rest of their lives.

“She hounded your husband into fucking her after your daughter died, chased him until he gave up and gave her what she cannot get at home. The witch answered the woman who suffers more than Christ and made sure to give Lizzie Shelby the chance to humiliate the woman who fucked her husband. “If Sir Oswald cannot satisfy a woman, something you and my husband’s niece can confirm, then he does not have what it takes to take on the world. Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Shelby?”

Oswald clears his throat, hides his humiliation as best as he can but his embarrassment is blood in the water and Eva might as well be the shark that ends him. She would love to, but his cause doesn’t need a martyr.

Elizabeth Shelby, agrees with her words and leaves now that she has no fucking reason to stay in the tomb with her ghost of a husband. She knows now why he betrayed like that, but its too little and too late. Eva will enjoy being friends with the woman, maybe introduce her to a man who will love her as she deserves.

She deserved better, someone like her cousin, Santiago, a man who can make her past disappear and not give a damn about who she was before him.

“My wife, y’see, believes the state of a man’s family says everything about him and I trust her judgment over anyone else’s, ‘cos my Evie the future. Not those frauds like the ones Houdini exposes, but the real. Fucking. Thing.” Jack takes the mask off and revels in making the English aristocrats squirm. “And if she says you and your people are full of shit ‘cos your wife has to go around begging Shelby here for a good time, then I know not to waste my time with the likes of you.

Do you remember what I told you when we first met, Shelby?” Jack turns to the host with a smile that Mosley won’t ever forget.

“The last thing you want is to get gipped.” Shelby nods and repeats the words that made him regret every second with Grace. If he had not been so foolish, Grace would be alive today.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I see myself in you, Mr. Shelby, and if you want to get as far as we both know we will get, you gotta cut these fuckers lose before they drag you down with them.” Jack ended this charade with a puff of his cigar and relished the destruction of the man who thinks people like them must die. “Oh, and by the way, my niece mentioned something about a cancer scheme. Some crazy bullshit about how you are worth more dead than alive. If I were you, I’d show them how two Catholic Boys like us got where we are.”

Mosely and his woman do not linger after, taking their leave like good little aristocrats and yet humiliated to hell and back. They don’t even know he’s about to lose his seat, nor how they will die a shit stain in the footnote of history.

“And here I thought you wanted me dead too.” Shelby’s life lies in tatters and yet they have the last laugh.

“There is no fun to killing the body when the soul is already dead.” The witch shrugged and called for a toast. “To the two weeks that have changes the course of history.”

[sapphicwhimsy]

one blink and we'll be gone

this is!!! my gift for @weatheredcopper for @mcyt-valentines!! you said you wanted shadowrot. i hope i did a good job for ya!!

here it is on ao3 if youd rather read it there!!

The distant crunching of leaves underfoot gave the visitor away, long before the knock on her door did. 

She had known the steps as soon as she heard them, had memorized the footfall of so many other players, and she didn’t need more to know someone who had once meant ally was approaching. But the same person who had been an ally was now something in between, flickering fire that danced at their fingertips with every new game with questions of if it would ever heal again It should have set her on edge, should have sent her grasping for a blade to defend herself, to know she was ready for whatever may come her way.

But she didn’t. She didn’t move, not until the distinct knocking of knuckles she knew too well against her wooden door finally forced her to.

Oh, she wanted to hesitate. To pretend she wasn’t here, to ignore it all. To pretend this wasn’t happening, and both of their lives could truly move on without this, without whatever was needed from her.

But, of course, she didn’t.

The door felt heavy as she pulled it open. She wasn’t surprised to see Cleo standing there, head tilted to take in the builds Lizzie had been working on. Sunflowers that grew taller than homes, a giant tree to match, weeks worth of effort, and they took it in so very casually that Lizzie wanted to swear. To kick them out, like she had done before. To make them understand that this wasn’t the place for them.

Part of her ached for it to be a place for Cleo. For Cleo to belong here like she did, for this to be the place they could finally make things work out. But the thoughts wouldn’t leave, of her own fort burning by Cleo’s hand, or the fire she had started herself in return games later, kept those thoughts firmly in the realm of impossibility. Cleo didn’t belong here, and they both knew it.

Even the very thought of Cleo being here made her heart ache, made her chest long and want to reach out, to pull her in. To let the flames at their fingertips burn them again, until they were nothing but ashes together. Dead flowers and crumbled leaves and broken fairy wings that caught like the kindling they were. She didn’t want her to leave. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

They weren’t friends. Cleo had forgiven her, when she hadn’t forgiven BigB, and Lizzie knew that. But it was still all hesitant, waiting for their burning embers to ignite the other.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe. She was tired, had spent weeks alone here building, just so she wouldn’t think. Hoping from one project to the next, because if her hands and mind were occupied, then it wouldn’t matter about anything else. She could run away from it all.

“Hello to you, too,” Cleo said, with the air that told her she was being rude. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Hello,” she parroted back, both hating and loving the smirk Cleo wore, because she oh so desperately wanted to wipe it off her face, and she wasn’t sure if it was with a fist or a kiss. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Cleo said, and the honesty in her tone made Lizzie hesitate.

“Why?”

That made Cleo’s nose wrinkle. It was something cute but not quite what she had expected. Snark was more prevalent, the more obvious choice. Instead, Cleo shrugged this weak shrug, and it made her heart ache in a new way because she wasn’t used to seeing her so very vulnerable.

“No one’s seen you since Secret Life. We were worried.” Ah. She straightened up, grabbing the door handle, and tried to ignore the cold feeling of the void creeping into her fingertips and toes as the memory of her last death ate at her mind.

She didn’t need this. None of them needed to see her, and she didn’t need to see any of them. She had spent weeks alone since then. She had died alone. Died like she had lived then and it dug into her brain, knowing she had died alone and no one had cared. She was alone now, too. Alone in life.

They shouldn’t care now.

“You’re just an ambassador then? You can tell them I’m fine. You’ve seen me, I’m alive. You can go.”

“Lizzie-” The door tried to slam, but Cleo’s hand caught it, and it was the sign of her defeat. Cleo was stronger than her, always would be. She had hoped to be able to close and lock it, but with her hand around the door to keep it firmly where it was, Lizzie knew she had already lost. Still, she leaned her full weight against the door, knowing Cleo could hold her up. “Can we please talk? Just this once?” “What is there to talk about?” she asked, like this was normal. Like she had just been going about her day when Cleo had not so casually dropped by, instead of avoiding everyone for weeks on end. Like this would all go away if she pretended it would. Like they hadn’t burned each other’s homes down. Because the trust was still there, even though Lizzie hated to ever admit it. “It’s fine.”

“Now you’re just stealing my line,” Cleo sighed, and Lizzie looked away, knowing it was true. “Can I at least come in for tea? I won’t stay long if you won’t have me, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Surely you can come up with something better than that. Why are you here?”

“I told you! I wanted to check on you!”

“You’ve done that. You’ve seen me, you can go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Lizzie.” Cleo’s voice was almost a growl now, anger quickly escalating. Lizzie pushed harder against the door, though it didn’t budge. Cleo was much stronger than her, and both of them knew that.

“And why not?!” But still, she’d push just a bit more. She didn’t like the feeling of the flames lapping at her chest, ready to swallow them whole, but oh, it felt so warm in the fire they always brought together.

“Because I care about you! That may be hard for you to believe, but I didn’t come out here for the fun of it!” Cleo snapped, pushing the door, and Lizzie stumbled as it swung open. She turned to swear at her, to scream at her to leave. But Cleo’s arms simply wrapped her up in a tight hug, squeezing her to their chest, and all of her anger melted away in the heat of their own personal flame. “Stop pushing me away for once. Let me help you.”

It was a whisper. A plea, begging, needing it just as much as her. Vulnerable and exposing the side she never showed anyone, and Lizzie knew that. She knew Cleo’s loyalty ran deep, that it would be impossible to break without hurting. And she had hurt her again and again, but the arms around her held her so tight it was hard to think of anything else. 

There was fire at her fingers, fire that matched Cleo’s hair, and she didn’t think about it. She melted, because fire tended to do that to things that got too close to it. She leaned into her, feeling the sob bubbling in her chest. Weeks of being alone, of fighting off that lingering loneliness, of fighting the chill of the void that still ran so deep in her chest that even the hottest water wasn’t enough. She grabbed fistfuls of Cleo’s shirt, and felt the heat of the flames creeping deeper, warming her like nothing else would.

“You’re not alone,” Cleo whispered, and Lizzie broke. She broke into a million little pieces, tears at the corner of her eyes and sobs bubbling in her throat as she buried her face into Cleo’s shoulder, begging this to not be a dream. “Not anymore. I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she whispered, and when Cleo pulled her away from her shoulder, she expected her to decide she was right. She expected the flames to dim and diminish, to fade into ashes. 

But they were always such a raging inferno, always catching each other into flames, and Cleo made sure she knew that. Her fingers danced under her chin, tilting her head up and forcing her to meet her eyes. For a moment, she stared into the hues of green, and then Cleo was kissing her.

It was quick, a peck, something that left her hungry and confused but desperate for more, tightening her grip on Cleo. She didn’t want them to leave.

“You’re stuck with me now until I know you’re okay,” Cleo said simply, thumb stroking her cheek gently just to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, and oh, Lizzie hated her. She hated how she let her go, hated how they had pushed past her defenses and into her home. Hated that she never wanted her to leave. The fire burned brighter, angry and lapping, but Lizzie couldn’t be bothered to care right then. She could always rebuild. She always would, too. They’d both burn and rebuild and keep this vicious cycle going until there was nothing left to burn or build ever again.

“You won’t leave?” she asked, desperation in her voice as Cleo took one of her hands in hers. It wasn’t a plea, because she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t.

“I won’t,” Cleo promised. Lizzie thought of a home built on top of another, of Cleo forgiving her enough to do that. Of hatred and burned homes and how Cleo had burned hers, once, so she’d done the same. How Cleo still hated BigB, but had chosen her at the start. Of how she was here when no one else was.

Cleo let go of her, but Lizzie wanted to pull her back in. She didn’t though, because there was still that part of herself that wanted to tear off her own skin rather than admit how lonely she had been. But she did watch as Cleo spared a glance around her temporary home, a place to stay while she worked on her sunflower grove, and the appreciation she saw there melted some part of her heart.

She could always rebuild, if it were to catch fire.

“Where’s your kitchen? I’ll put on the kettle.”

She wanted to hesitate. It was the last chance to kick Cleo out, and she knew it. But she couldn’t. The front door was easier to shut, to accept this. She followed after Cleo, her heart pounding in her chest. They were dangerous together, but they could play like this for a bit. It might be nice, to not be so alone.

“Here. I’ll show you.”

[kleiner-ghost-high-on-life]

If you’re doing the drabbles still: Gus telling Creature about what Gatlus was like before the G3 invasion? Or just the two trying to bond sometime after the events of the game or between bounties

The drabbles are open, always 🤲 Thank you for the ask ^^

Here's to two sweet lil' guys bonding while BH and the rest of the team are out kicking butt. (and a tiny bit of existential angst)

"Hey, Gus, Gus," Creature called out.

"Huh - What-" Gus jerked awake, "What's up pal?"

He'd dozed off a while back, during a particularly boring part of a documentary on Earth sea slug reproduction that Lizzie had put on to annoy Gene. She’d “hidden” the remote by the staircase, before heading out, leaving the trio of Gene, Creture, and Gus to watch the thing.

Gene only complained for about 5 minutes, before falling asleep, and Gus was quick to follow. He hadn’t quite realised how exhausting a life of bounty-hunting would be, and didn’t complain too much, if at all, when Bounty Hunter left him and Creature at home during this one mission.

Creature on the other hand seemed utterly unaffected by fatigue. It seemed like the added stress of constant near-death experiences was comparable, or even lesser than, that of constantly having a dozen kids.

“Were you sleeping?” Creature asked.

“Yes pal,” Gus blinked in annoyance, “Did you wake me up just to ask that?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.” The Gatlian shrugged, as much as his shoulder-less body would allow.

“I was just sleeping, why would you-”

“This movie Lizzie put on, it’s got me thinking,” Creature turned towards the TV, he paused for a second, his gaze lost in the wavy colourful shapes of sea slugs merging into a singular non-distinct mass of alien bodies, “We are the last Gatlians out there. Our planet is gone, and we will never be able to repopulate it again, just the six of us. All our traditions, songs, dances,” he nudged towards the screen, with a melancholic look painted over his face, “We’ll never be like them. My little freaky babies … they will never get to have little freaky babies of their own. You know?”

Gus was at a loss for words. Sure, he knew what he needed to say, which just so happened to very closely align with what he wanted to say, but Creature’s unprompted nihilistic philosophic speech had taken him by surprise.

Thankfully it seemed that Creature’s children were unaffected, as they spent the few minutes they had staring at the mating sea slugs in silent and confused awe.

“Ah, I’m sure there’s more of us out there,” Gus scruffled over and gave Creature a little pat on the shoulder. “Bunty Hunter will keep looking, and so will we. We’ll be alright buddy, we’ll rebuild. There might no longer be a home for us on Gatlus, but we made a good home for ourselves here, don’t you think?”

Creature turned to face Gus, earning him twelve displeased groans from his back.

“You mean that? Because I don’t think you mean that, not after how you got mad at Kenny for destroying our home planet,”

“I mean, he literally caused the downfall of our fucking-” Gus cut himself off, shaking his head. There was no use getting worked up over something Creature didn’t remember, and couldn’t possibly understand.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

“You know, there’s something we could do before the others return. Bounty Hunter won’t get it, and Lizzie might yell at us, but it was somewhat of a tradition back on Gatlus. When someone close, like a best friend went on a very long journey, and we didn’t know when they’d return we’d throw them-”

“A surprise party?” Creatrue excitedly interrupted.

“No, not a surprise party. A bucket of Takeocot purée.”

“A what now?”

“Takeocot purée. I’ll show you how to make it. Well, we usually did it before they left, for good luck and to repel mud-bugs on their travels, but I’m sure they’ll get our meaning.”

The smile on Creature’s face was contagious, and Gus couldn’t help but mimic the grin. It had been so long since he’d engaged in casual tasks like this, and even longer since he’d done anything Gatlian.

“How are the two of you gonna make whatever that thing is, considering you have two arms between the two of you, and no way of getting down from this coffee table?” Gene suddenly interrupted.

“Aaah – I thought you were sleeping!” Creature exclaimed.

His children hissed at him again, in reaction to the loud noise.

“I woke up when you said repopulate,” Gene scratched his face. “Do you want me to call Lizzie to help you with your mushy-mushy bonding activity?”

“No thank you,” Gus dryly stated.

“I mean, he’s not wrong about us only having two arms,” Creature tried to argue.

“Two plus twenty-four,” Gus nodded towards Creature’s babies.

“Oh, right.”

With the roar of a dozen babies who were just told to stop watching TV, Creature’s children hopped off his back and helped the duo down from the coffee table before carrying them to the kitchen, as per Gus’s instructions.

When Gene straightened up on the couch, attempting to catch a peak of what they were doing, one of the babies ran up to him and hissed at his face. He would have bitten him too, had he not puffed out of existence that very moment.

“You know Gus,” Creature spoke while Gus rummaged through the cupboard he could reach, in search of the necessary ingredients, “We should do this more often; you telling me about stuff I’m supposed to remember, me telling you about how hopeless the future would be without my friends.”

“Sure thing, pal.” Gus smiled in reply, “Just maybe without the hopeless future part, next time.”

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 32

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: some swears, this chapter is definitely M, 18+ due to one particualar line of dialogue. Minors dni.

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 31 | Chapter 33

"Heroes" - David Bowie

“For Christ’s sake, girl!” Kathy practically ripped what remained of Lizzy’s dress off, yanked the shower door open and all but threw her inside. “You’re a darn icicle!”

The water was as baltic as the run-off from a glacier, heat yet to kick in and Lizzy’s teeth were still chattering violently.

“And don’t come out until you’re wrinkly!” Kathy snapped and left her to it, running a towel over her own head, as steam started to fill the room.

Lizzy scrubbed and scrubbed. She just couldn’t get rid of the smell of death. She imagined she still felt the raptor saliva clinging to her body, each faint hint of the stench making her want to gag. Lizzy kept trying to purge in vain until her skin was raw and angry, but the water continued to run dark red with a mixture of blood and dirt. 

She gave up and simply stood under the water for a long time, as her limbs slowly defrosted. But her insides stayed cold and numb, and she started to cry, her sobs covered by the echo of the jets hitting tile. 

***

Tom found Kathy by herself, sitting alone in the tiny kitchen in the staff lodge and staring at the wall.  

“Everyone else has gone to bed, Kit.” He opened the fridge, half-heartedly scanning the contents before letting it fall shut again and leaning against it. “How’re you holding up?”

“I could be better.” Kathy told him. “That was pretty gruesome. I’ve never actually seen the aftermath before.” 

Tom whistled. “Pretty rough one for your first time.”

”He’ll be back before we know it.”

Tom opened and shut his mouth in astonishment. Jeez, either her sense of humour was dark as night, or she had no clue. 

”Uh…I don’t think he will be.”

“Huh?” Goddamn. She was serious.

“I mean, miracles are possible.” He slid into the chair beside her. “But I don’t know if we’re getting one this time.”

Kathy put her head in her hands, he didn’t notice she had broken until her shoulders started shaking silently.

“Hey, now.” He tried to put an arm around her but stopped when she leaned away from his touch. He hovered his hand above her and settled on an awkward back pat instead. “You’ve…er, you’ve got this.”

“Ughh…no, I don’t…” Kathy sniffed loudly. “I can’t wait it out until August-“

”You gotta-“ Tom’s heart dropped. 

“But why? I could just go home to Minnesota now. I’d be flat broke-“

”We need you, and stuff. To lead. Lead the team.” He hurriedly tried to change her mind. 

”Not much of a team to lead anymore.” She shrugged. “My jobs open, I guess you could fight Lizzy for it.”

”No, I need you-“ Tom realised he’d made a mistake. “-aw, Hell.”

“You…need me?” She blinked up at him. “Since when?”

”I, uh-“ He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Shit.” 

“Talk.” Now she was looking at him all accusing, like, and Tom wished he was the one currently being zipped into a bodybag.

“Okay, here goes.” He sighed. “I kinda…couldn’t stop thinking about you over Christmas.” 

“Huh?” This had to be a joke. Some ploy to get inside her head.

“It was the goddamn scarf you made. Something clicked…-“ He faltered. “That, and when Liz talked you into singing in front of everyone at the Christmas party.”

Kathy blushed and hid her face. After Lizzy had slaughtered a rendition of 9 to 5 which was very blatantly directed at Richardson, Kathy had followed her lead, with some convincing, and belted I Wanna Dance With Somebody at the top of her lungs.   

”I’ve never heard anyone sing as pretty as you, lady.” Tom was still in awe, weeks later. “You could sing the anthem at the Superbowl.” “Oh, that’s very…kind of you.” She responded warily. 

Kathy had her own series of might-have-beens. She likely could have made a career in the arts, but she’d always loved cats more than performing. And anyway, she had crippling stage fright. No exaggeration, she’d have to drink more than Muldoon to stand in front of the microphone on a regular basis.

“You’re the kind one. You’re far too good for this place.” He gave her a sideways glance. ”Even if you do cheer for the Vikings.”

”There’s always next year.” Kathy muttered angrily. Minnesota had been knocked out in the first round of playoffs, much to her chagrin. “‘94 is gonna be the one.”

”Cowboys will win on Sunday.” Tom said confidently.

”We’ll see.” Kathy raised an eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll be cheering for Buffalo, in that case.”

He chuckled. “Could be worse, you could be into baseball.” His comment reminded them both of Regis, in his Trenton Thunder cap.

Let’s roll.

Their smiles faded and they sat in solemn silence for several minutes. 

“Tom, this has kind of come out of nowhere.” Kathy admitted, trying to process what was happening. He wasn’t bad looking, quite the opposite in fact, in a rough-around-the-edges way, if you liked that sort of thing.

But it was always his manners she’d found off-putting. And she genuinely had no idea he felt that way about her when everything he’d ever done indicated he positively loathed her entire existence.

She tugged on one of her braids, studying his expression carefully. “Why’d you tell me now? I’d made my peace with us never communicating outside of work.” 

”I know, I know.” Tom looked guilty. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but with Rico-“

Every word that came into his head was too permanent, too final for Kathy’s state of mind, so he changed tack mid-sentence. 

”If something happened to me, I’d like to think I’d have no regrets.” He shrugged. “So there ya go.”

He nudged her shoulder with his, and this time, she didn’t recoil. 

”I like you, lady.”

That should do it.

They usually just fell into his arms. And then his bed. It was easy.  But Kathy didn’t move a muscle. Or even say anything. She was just smiling at him politely like she wasn’t quite sure what to do. 

“So, uh, how about it?” He prompted her. “You seeing anyone?”

“No.” 

He grinned. “Awesome.”

”Sure, I’m single.” She and her high-school sweetheart had called it quits the previous winter. “But the no was my answer to your first question.” 

“Grea- wait, what do you mean, no?”

Tom couldn’t remember a girl ever telling him no before. 

”There’s been some undertones.” Kathy started off demurely, then exploded at him. “Hang on, screw that. You’ve been an absolute dweeb-“

Tom’s eyes widened at the verbal attack.

“-no, a complete and utter dick to me! You expect me just to drop everything and do what you want?! Now that you’re being civil?!”

“Okay, you can stop, I get it-“

“Talk about regrets?” There was no stopping it now, the emotion was just pouring out of Kathy. She was formidable. And she didn’t even raise her voice, not once. Her softness was all the more jarring. “You’ve made me feel like crap! You’ve embarrassed me, undermined my authority in front of pretty much everyone. Don’t you regret that?”

”I do, actually. I’ve realised why I was giving you such a hard time.”

”Well, please enlighten me.”

”It’s pretty complicated.” 

”I’m pretty smart.” She said sharply. “I’m sure I can keep up.”

“Wow, we’re really getting into it tonight, huh?” He lamented even going into the kitchen at all. 

“I’m waiting.”

“Jeez, you’re feisty when you feel like it-” Tom huffed. Where to begin?

“Okay, if it means so little to you, then I guess I’m leaving-“ 

“Wait, fine!” He groaned, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “…Richardson got to me early on, took me under his wing. I thought he was the mentor I’d always been looking for. That him and me were simpatico. The same.”

”You aren’t the only one.” Kathy could see why he’d targeted the southerner. Playing into a certain stereotype, Tom was the obvious choice.

“Well, he made promises he didn’t keep. Told me every chance he got that you, Liz, Muldoon, none of you were the right fit for the place.” Tom confessed. “That he had someone else in mind before Muldoon put Liz forward for her job. Someone better.” 

“That’s why he doesn’t like her?” Kathy didn��t know why she sounded so shocked. Everything Tom had told her thus far had made perfect sense. “Because Elizabeth wasn’t his first choice?”

”She wasn’t his choice at all. He despises her. Richardson likes his women submissive. Seen and not heard.” Tom continued. “He thought he could easily make her leave, but she’s thriving here. Rattled some cages. Trust me, it’s only because Liz and Muldoon are so goddamn stubborn that this place hasn’t turned into a boys club.”

“Oh, screw that.”

“Be glad of those two. If they weren’t here, you and Isaac, maybe Julian too, would have been outta town within the first month.” Tom nodded meaningfully. “He’d have made it impossible for you to stay.”

He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He would have likely been part of that ousting process. But things were different now. A certain ethologist had fought for and won his respect. Rattled his cage, indeed. 

“Jeez…I’m so glad I was put on Carnivores.” Kathy murmured. 

“Me too. I was originally supposed to report back to Richardson with anything…untoward.” Tom shook his head. “He was absolutely convinced Liz was sleeping with someone higher up.”

”What, he thought she’d do the same for him?” Kathy snorted, only half-joking. 

”Evidently. He ain’t got it as bad for her as he does for María, I’ve heard him say some damn awful things. Like, make you lose your lunch, sick.”

Kathy shook her head, she didn’t want to think about that. “What happened?”

“I realised that Richardson was wrong about plenty. Especially Liz.” Tom thought back to that fateful day Muldoon locked them both in the cupboard to work things out. “Everything he told me about her was a lie. That she was a spoiled, dumb, little wh-…uh…” 

“Say it.” Kathy insisted. “You need to.”

“He called her a whore.” Tom looked thoroughly ashamed. “I believed him.” 

“Past tense?” She pointed out. “So you definitely aren’t his right-hand-man anymore?”

“Eh, I’ve pissed him off one too many times, I reckon. Liz has done nothing wrong, God forbid she’s actually good at her job, and he didn’t like it when I told him so.” Tom smirked. “She’s alright. Though I do miss really winding her up.”

“You still do that.” Kathy pointed out. 

“Yeah. Even if anything…happened-“ Tom cleared his throat. “I’d probably stay quiet about it now.”

“Well, aren’t you a saint.” She remarked. 

“Muldoon’s a good man. He’s fair. Which means a lot around here.” He looked downtrodden. “But I’m still not sure he does anything other than tolerate me.”

”No, he likes you.” Kathy told him, her voice rising in pitch.  He snorted at her obvious lie. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, he doesn’t hate you!” She exclaimed. “That’s an achievement.”

”He told you?” His expression brightened. 

”Something like that.” Kathy nodded. “He tells me most things, verbally or otherwise, I can usually figure him out.”

“You’re lucky.” Tom sounded genuinely envious. “I can’t read the guy at all. I just-…nah…”

”Go on.” 

“Promise not to make fun?” 

“Cross my heart.”

”I don’t care what Richardson thinks of me anymore.” Tom hesitated. “I kind of care, a lot, about what Muldoon thinks.”

Dare he even think it, let alone utter the words, he wanted the guy to be proud of him. Something he’d never, ever, get. Pathetic. Goddamn, what a loser.

”I think you’re doing okay.” Kathy told him quietly. He’d made wrong choices, sure, but Tom could still turn it all around. “Recently you’ve been almost bearable.”

“I’ll take that.” 

“So, what’s next for Richardson’s white supremacy vision?” Kathy leaned back and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. She’d thought of Rico again, and the tears were threatening to make  another appearance.

“Well, it’s not good. Travis says he never goes out in the park with them. His own team is getting pissed off with him. They want what we have. They want a Muldoon.”

”Mutiny?”

”Maybe.” Tom agreed. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

“I might not be here to see it.” Kathy sighed. “Shame.”

“You’re dead set on heading back to the States, huh?”

“I’m going to my new job at the Smithsonian.” She said fiercely. “Nothing’s gonna change that. It’s really important to me. The interview was terrifying.”

”I get it.” He glanced at her sideways. “I still got a couple months with you, right?” “With me?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why, you planning on doing better?”

“Well, yeah.” Self-improvement was a relatively new concept. “Even if nothing…-I’d like to think we could hang out more. Just us, maybe. I could be your acc-…accom-…accomp-…the fella who plays guitar.”

”Can you even play guitar?”  “Well, not yet. But I’d learn how if you would sing for me.”

“Very good.” Kathy smiled, in spite of herself. “Here’s what I want-“

”You want it, you got it.”

“Listen up. Prove you’re on my side.” She deliberately tapped the countertop between each word. “It’s that simple. Just don’t be a dick anymore, Tom.”

“Can I still be a little bit of a dick? Only not to you.”

”As long as you’re not a huge dick.” 

“I’ll be your dick.” He thought he’d blown it, wincing. “Wait, no-“

Fortunately, she laughed. “There are far too many length descriptors in this conversation for my liking.”

“Sorry.”  ”’S’okay. By all means, be a useful dick when appropriate to do so. Be our dick.” Kathy finally got up to leave, even if she couldn’t sleep, she still needed to crash out on her bed. “And boy, you better start learning guitar.”

***

Lizzy gave a final look to her dress, crumpled like a dead bird in the sink, no longer red, no longer a one-piece, balled it up and threw it in the trash. 

If Regis was really that pressed about it, he could take it out of her salary. She didn’t care. She would be happy to never see that man again. 

Call off your dog.

Bastard. She whispered at her own reflection in the mirror. Makeup washed away, she still didn’t recognise herself. The haunted look in her eyes, and gritty blood trapped under her fingernails kept pulling her back to the moment she had rolled Rico‘s body over and seen what resembled a dissection diagram laid out on the muddy ground at her feet. 

But she had finally pulled herself back into enough recognisable pieces to face the world. She reminded herself it wasn’t over yet. She was acting like Rico was already dead. Everyone else was too. 

He may as well be. 

She wondered if the helicopter had made it to Bahía Anasco. If they had found a doctor. If he had still been alive at that point. So many what-if’s and no answers.

Lizzy padded up to the kitchen in her bare feet and the clothes she usually slept in, hair still in damp ringlets after towel-drying.

She heard Kathy and Tom’s voices, talking low and hushed. It sounded like an important conversation. Suspiciously resembling a heart-to-heart.

Lizzy was about to push her way in to join them, but changed her mind. 

She would be kidding herself, and them, by third-wheeling. She didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to chat. 

She knew exactly what she wanted. And who she wanted it from. Lizzy about-turned and marched back down the corridor, arriving outside a door that wasn’t hers, but one she knew well. 

Screw the goddamn rules.

Knock knock. And because she was in a spectacularly bad mood, still seething at Regis, she kicked the door for good measure. 

He didn’t answer fast enough for her liking. 

She wondered if Muldoon also wasn’t in the mood for talking.  That was alright, because talking wasn’t what she had in mind.  Knock knock kick again. 

Chances were, he already knew it was her, and for whatever reason, was keeping her waiting. Lizzy jogged from foot to foot impatiently, he needed to hurry up, before anyone saw what she was up to. 

There would be questions.  The park warden regarded her suspiciously as he finally opened his door.

“Well, you look a damn sight better.”

”I don’t feel any better.” She answered bluntly. 

“Likewise.”

Lizzy sidled closer, hoping he’d take the hint. She waited expectantly for him to let her in, but he just stood, unmoving in the doorway.

“Why are you here, Armstrong?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“What’s wrong with Baker’s company?”

“She and Tom are having a moment.”

“Really?” He looked genuinely interested. “Strange.”

“I know, right?” Lizzy shook her head, ready to elaborate, then realised she was being misdirected. ”That’s not the point!” 

“Then get to it.” His expression didn’t change. “Quickly.”

“I don’t want Kathy. I want you.” 

She wanted to feel safe. With Kathy, she was the protector, always the protector, always looking out for everybody, with her siblings, co-workers, even bloody Simon. She wanted to be protected, for a change. Just for one day. 

Muldoon looked exasperated. “We’ve already been through this, we can’t-“

“Please.”

“This isn’t a good time.” 

“Look, here. I have had quite possibly the worst day of my adult life, and-…why? What are you doing?” Her gaze flicked past him to the table. “Oh, you better not be-“

He defensively moved to block her view. “So what if I am? Rough night and all that.”

“You are!” She cried in dismay. “Seriously? Are you trying to kick me when I’m down?”

“Then leave, if you don’t want to see it. Go back to your own room, and stay there.”

She became apoplectic with him. How dare he? They were all struggling, and he’d chosen to suffer alone, again. Turning to drink, instead of company. Instead of the rest of the team. Instead of her.

But this time, she wasn’t running away. Not without a fight. 

“Absolutely not.”

Lizzy ducked under his arm in a flash and headed straight for the table.

She knew she had to get through to him somehow, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be pretty.

Lizzy snatched the bottle off the table and looked him dead in the eyes as she started necking down the contents.

“For Christ’s sake, Armstrong-“

“It’s not nice, is it?” Lizzy stopped for breath, head already swimming, throat on fire, dodged him and continued downing gulps of whiskey as she tried to evade, keeping the table between them. “Watching me do this to myself?”

No, it wasn’t nice. It was bloody awful.

Lizzy nearly tripped, swallowed the wrong way and started a coughing fit. Christ, it burned. But she recovered quickly, from years of practice as a teenager in the darkest alleys of Glasgow.

“Serves you right.”

“God ‘sake, this is awful stuff.” She peered at the label on the bottle, struggling without her glasses. “Eighteen-year? I don’t bloody think so! You really drink this?”

“Not tonight, apparently.”

“Then I may as well just pour the rest of it away?” She stepped backwards and hovered the bottle tauntingly through the open window, threatening to upend it. “Remove temptation.”

“Alright, that’s enough, Lizzy.”

“First name?” She smirked, but set the bottle back down on solid ground. “Oh, I am in trouble.”

It felt all wrong. She hadn’t dared confront anyone about a possible alcohol problem since she’d ended up with a broken arm in her teens. Her shoulder was aching that very moment, from the cold and rain, and she rolled it unconsciously, a nervous habit, stretching it out with an audible creak. 

Muldoon watched her do it, the way her mouth tightened involuntarily from the pain she was used to dealing with every single day. Not all of it physical. 

He couldn’t do this to her. She was trying to help him. Trying to fix something, since she had failed to fix Esteves, in the jungle. 

Her eyes were a little out of focus as she glared at him. He waved a hand slowly back and forth, and as her gaze followed, it was definitely lagging.

“Are you wrecked? Already?” He sank down on the bed, looking incredibly weary. “I thought your sort knew how to handle your drink.”

“You would assume so.” Lizzy hiccuped. “Funnily enough, I can’t stand whisky anymore. How’s that for ironic?”

“You’re a ridiculous woman.” Then partly to himself. “Who in their right mind would-“

”If I drink it all, there’s none for you.” She was beginning to sway back and forth with a thousand-yard stare. “Actually, mate, I don’t feel very good.”

Lizzy barely drank anymore, for personal and obvious reasons. When she did, she could hardly keep up with Kathy, and she didn’t even want to. 

“Ridiculous.” He repeated. “Go, get into bed, now.”

Lizzy only blinked at him, stunned.

“To sleep, you lunatic. You’re half-cut.”

She raised a finger and whispered very deliberately. “That may be true.”

Even in her bleary state, she’d spotted a loophole. 

He’d made no mention of Lizzy getting in her own bed. And he wasn’t sending her away that easily.

She started undressing, right in front of him. She’d made up her mind she was staying the night. Hell nor high water was getting her out of that room. He was not drinking on her watch. This was a stakeout. 

“What are you-“

“Maybe you should try the thirty-four-year-old instead.” Lizzy interrupted loudly as she slid her shorts down over her hips, kicking them off across the room. “Just saying.”

“The thirty-four-year-old is really testing my patience.”

“But will make you feel so much better.” She sidled over, standing in front of him with bare legs. “No hangover.”

“Just a permanent headache.” He replied cynically.

“Tastes better, too.” Her eyebrow twitched suggestively, and the mood changed in an instant. 

His gaze was now dragging over her body in an entirely different way. “Does she, now?”

She murmured affirmation as she bent forward and took both his hands in hers, placing them around her middle. Lizzy lifted the hem of her baggy t-shirt, getting ready to pull it over her head.

“Lizzy-“ He warned. This was going too far. 

“Have you had enough of me?” She asked in a low voice.

Never. But he didn’t want her like this. Not at his best, for lack of a better phrase. He’d already made it a fair way through the bottle before she’d rudely interrupted. 

He told her as much, but it didn’t seem to put her off at all.

Lizzy smiled coyly. “Who says you have to do anything?“ She was looking at him from under her eyelashes as she elaborated. “I like being in charge too, y’know?”

She had very nice legs, strong legs. It was difficult to push away the thought of those on either side of his, straddling him, if she took the lead, as she was implying.

She felt good, as he was running his fingers up and down her thighs. Watching her shiver and arch her back slightly, battling whether to reach up and squeeze that lovely rear of hers before thinking better of it and letting his hands drop down, away from her body. Lizzy’s smile faded and she folded her arms over her chest.

“I know, Lizzy. But you’ve been drinking.”

“So have you.” She quite rightly pointed out.

“Makes it double the mistake then, I’m afraid-“ he held her gaze, “-fucking you.”

The sound of Lizzy’s sharp intake of breath filled the whole room. She’d never heard him say that word before, it was always damn this, bloody that. And it honestly shocked her. The switch was flipped between them, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

He did that on purpose.

“Very chivalrous.” She stammered awkwardly, recovering her ability to speak after a flustered moment and sat down beside him, spell broken. “You must hate always being right.”

“Now more than ever.”

She stretched and flopped back on his bed. God, she was exhausted. The chill from the wind and rain had cut down to her bones. Though the taste was lingering on her tongue in a way she wasn’t a fan of, the burning scotch was starting to warm her up pleasantly from the inside, her lids were so heavy. She felt herself sinking downwards, gradually  relaxing muscles that she didn’t even know she’d been tensing.

Felt like home. Not Glasgow, not New York, but exactly the way her bunk smelled in her favourite place in the world at the end of a long, hot day. Of the outdoors, and sun-warmed leather. 

Going to rest my eyes, just for a second. Got to stay awake-

He was talking to her again, but she was too tired to process what he was saying.

“Uh-huh, yeah…I’m still here…” She mumbled. 

Then oblivion.

“Armstrong?” No answer. “…Lizzy?”

When he looked around she was fast asleep with her mouth open, sprawled out and limbs pointing in all directions.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her. 

“Suppose you are staying, then.”

***

By Christ, she snored.

Rhinoceroses were quieter. The damn tyrannosaur was quieter.

But it was oddly reassuring, instead of the usual dead silence, alone with too many of his own thoughts. Like heavy rain on tent canvas, or cicadas.

If it were a biblical plague of cicadas Muldoon thought to himself.

She hadn’t stirred when he’d picked up her legs to move her underneath the covers. If anything, she’d snored even louder in protest.

He’d swithered for a long while about actually getting into bed with her. It almost felt wrong it was that easy, after months of thinking about this exact situation, and she wasn’t even awake.

It was her idea in the first place. Where else could he go, sleep in his damn Jeep?

He couldn’t do that to her, just leave her to wake up alone. She needed him, come looking for him for a reason, though slightly misguided. 

But this is not a reward. She won’t stay next time. She’ll leave and not come back.

Muldoon vowed to do his best to make sure there wouldn’t be a next time. This was his last chance.

Armstrong’s ridiculous, half-baked, hastily-constructed plan had paid off. 

Ridiculous, indeed. She was the most ridiculous woman he’d ever met. 

And brave. Damn brave, to face him in this state.  With that thought, Muldoon felt incredibly guilty. She shouldn’t have had to do all that in an attempt to get through to him. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he would have done if it had been Armstrong attacked, instead of Esteves. If she were the one lying cold and motionless, headed to the mainland for the last time.

But she was alive, only sleeping, and she was right there. 

He watched her chest rise and fall for a few minutes, just to reassure himself she was unharmed. Her ribcage wasn’t caved in, her skin wasn’t leaching colour from exsanguination. 

She was warm and soft and kept on fidgeting endlessly, limbs pointing in every direction, shuffling closer to him in her sleep, until he was pressed against the wall and couldn’t possibly move any further away from her.

When she flung a hand out restlessly, reaching for something he couldn’t see, Muldoon gave up and put an arm around her middle, letting her in. 

Can’t say I didn’t try.  She sighed softly, resumed snoring at quite frankly worrying decibels and stopped twitching every half a second. 

The whiskey glass, still in its place on the table caught his eye, glinting in the moonlight.

For the first time in a very long while, he didn’t want it.

No, this would do instead.

***

Thanks for reading!

[fountainpenguin]

"The boy had such an ego; he liked to talk about himself all day and all night; you think you're such a ladykiller..."

---

New Dog's Life chapter today!

Chapter 5 - “Crackle (Joel)”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

Check the chapter notes on this one, m'dudes 🥂

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We're back and spotlighting Mr. Ladykiller Wifeslayer himself! Despite knowing Impulse is his game-assigned hunter, Joel hangs around him a little bit longer... Later, while chopping wood with the boys, he muses on the nature of the digital world and on the trust he and Lizzie have built between them. Remember kids: consensual murder is fun!!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Smallishbeans - Player

Quarry: Grian

Hunter: impulseSV

💚  💛  ❤️

It’s the middle of the blimmin’ night, he’s climbing a hill, it’s windy in a smack-your-face kind of way, and he’s tracking an enderman flitting back and forth in the nearby trees. That’s why he almost falls down the cave drop. His foot swings into empty air. Joel jerks back, instantly dropping to a crouch, and grabs Impulse by the edge of his chestplate. The dirt flecks he scuffed up go tumbling over. Down. Down… 

They’re on a knobby little hill without trees or bamboo to shield them from the elements. Impulse grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him back to more solid footing. “You all right, dude?” he mutters, and Joel hooks his fingers more tightly in his armor straps. His hearts kick a little higher, leaking up his throat.

One block away from absolutely certain death.

He blinks. There’s a border wall of cliff that should have indicated a scratched-out blip in the elevation, but he wasn’t looking. If he had been looking, if it weren’t the middle of the night, if it weren’t a hill, if it weren’t so windy, if he weren’t watching the enderman (and if he weren’t trying to watch his back around Impulse on top of all of that, actually) then he would have noticed. It’s just a stroke of luck that the guy was close enough to grab.

Joel spreads his legs for better balance. Even though he’s crouched - even though he and Impulse are both still green names - he definitely doesn’t trust his resource-gathering buddy not to grab his armor and toss him over the edge. It’d be an epic way to go, maybe, and a bloody painful one. Joel tilts back his head, staring into Impulse’s eyes. They’re icy flecks of emerald. Guarded. Impulse stares back at him, saying absolutely nothing.

This man’s assigned to hunt me down. He can kill me on green. Right here. Right now. There’s no way he can resist.

They cling to each other’s chestplates with seized-up fingers… like they’re already dead. Like they’re dead and can’t let go even if they wanted to. Actually… It’s almost stupidly romantic to hold each other, eyes locked, under the silver moonlight. And he kind of wants to laugh because he hates everything about this.

Joel keeps his fingers wedged under Impulse’s armor so the guy can’t shove him off the hill without being yoinked along with him. Impulse’s grip is bitterly tight. Those lips are bitter too, and his glowing eyes as narrow as an end rod. The wind rustles both their hair and waves the grass stalks against their ankles. Joel’s got armored legs, but not boots. Didn’t quite get there yet.

He’s going to make me the first death of the series.

That’s the worst part of this whole thing. See, even though Joel’s got a nicely crafted iron sword just waiting in his hotbar, he’s not allowed to slide it between the lines of code that make up his rival’s ribs. Impulse is his hunter - There’s no doubt in my mind about that - but that’s a one-way relationship. Stupid quarry mechanic doesn’t work in reverse. Until Impulse makes an undeniable attempt on his life, Joel’s a neutral party. He can’t engage.

Impulse knows it, too… That’s gotta be why he’s stalling so long. His stare cuts so deep, Joel considers making a sarcastic Do I have enchanting table text on my face or something? comment just to make him falter. Hm. Joel drops his voice to a whisper, lifting on his toes.

“You’re a peach, Impulse.”

“Wh- what kind of peach?”

“You know what kind.”

Impulse huffs, laughing in a nervous sort of way. The enderman lurking in the trees puffs away, materializing in the corner of Joel’s vision. Yeah, right… No way is he turning his back to chase it now. Together, he and Impulse shift their eyes off each other and down at the drop that nearly just took both their lives. Their sighs mingle into one. Sweaty fingers shake, pressing into each other’s skin and clothes. Finally, Joel lets out a long, low whistle. The wind picks it up and carries it away, like a canary leaping from a branch.

“That’s- Oh, that’s horrific.”

“I know, right? Dude… I didn’t even see it.”

“Right… It’s so dark out here, even with the moon big.” Joel pulls Impulse an extra step back from the edge. Impulse does have iron boots, which clank with every step. “Disgusting. Hey, d’you think this is where Jimmy died?”

“Yeah, this must’ve been it,” says Impulse, leaning over the edge. He shifts to a crouch, gripping his wobbly wooden sword. “Yikes. I mean, that’s gotta be at least 60 blocks…”

Grian stole the traits of Bee

Joel massages his mouth, holding a little more tightly to Impulse’s iron armor. “Geez, just look at it down there… I don’t think you can fall straight through from the top, but just… I mean, can you imagine landing in that second hole? Like, you drop from here and you just- you just keep going?”

LDShadowLady: You killed a bee?

“Oh, that second hole’s gotta be another 30 down for sure, and I think I’m lowballing. I can’t even render it in.”

Joel twitches, but resists the instinct to make some stupid play on words. “Someone’s down there,” he says instead, peering into the hole. He lowers himself to one knee, carefully removing his fingers from Impulse’s metal sleeve. “Who’s moving around down there?”

“Cleo, I think? And… I want to say BigB.”

Grian: it looked at me funny

That sounds about right. They sit in silence on their heels and hands, sizing up the two figures moving like ants far, far below. Lizzie’s name flickers up in chat and Joel notices she’s just killed a zombie. He tosses in some lame joke about whether she killed the guy because he was “looking at her funny” the same way Grian said about the bee. Then he glances into the hole again. Honestly, Impulse is right. That’s definitely Cleo down there, whose flame-orange curls stand out even in the dark. Zombie by name, zombie by nature… She pulled her puffy hair back in a low ponytail this round, apparently. Joel can make out the glint of an iron tool or weapon in their hand, but not the details. 

And yeah, the second person’s BigB. Um. Maybe? It’s not a great angle, especially in the dark, because the blue of his jumper melds pretty well with the gray of shadowy stone. Hmm… Joel can’t be sure if those two are acting aggressively - it looks like BigB has his sword out in perfect mirror of Cleo - or if they’re on the same team.

InTheLittleWood: it's me sorry

(About “looking at Lizzie funny.”)

Smallishbeans: SLDKFJSDJF Smallishbeans: you perceive Smallishbeans’ WIFE?!?!? InTheLittleWood: Sneak 100 Bigbst4tz2: :o LDShadowLady: So I gather rotting flesh is in this season ZombieCleo: Always has been InTheLittleWood: fair PearlescentMoon: Jail for Martyn for 1000 years InTheLittleWood: I am looking respectfully :) Smallishbeans: i'm not LDShadowLady: =^-^=

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[super-unpredictable98]

A Royal Spooky Fuck Up | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’ verse

An oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco​ & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: Strong language, ghost stuff, mention of death

a/n: Soooo we ended up forgetting to tell you guys something lol we thought it was pretty dehumanizing to call each of the Nathans "Lyddie's Nathan" or "Win's Nathan" so we gave them nicknames. Lyddie's Nathan is now Nate and Win's Nathan is Nats. Hope it's not confusing and that you enjoy our second quad adventure for the @sheehalloween

(Masterlist)

The year was 2022, life was just starting to look normal again, as normal as it gets. It was the end of a long eight show week in Six, where Lydia had been playing Anne Boleyn for a few months and she was rewatching The Crown. 

"Oh my God," she sobbed. No matter how many times she watched the scene where King George VI was found in his bed, she always cried. "And she wasn't there, Elizabeth wasn't there!"

"I thought you were anti-monarchy?" Win said as she walked through the living room to find her wife in tears in front of the telly.

"I am! I'm very anti-monarchy, I'm practically an anarchist," she wiped her tears with her sleeve. "I mean, King George got us through World War II, he was a great person. It's just a hobby, but I don't support it, our money pays for their luxury while everyone is struggling with the energy bills... horrific!"

"Yeah, no kidding, it's disgustin'," Winnie scoffed, though she plopped down next to Lydia on the couch. 

"Oh shit! Did yeh hear?" Nats cried, skidding into the room. 

"Hear what?" Win asked, frowning at him.

"We just saw it online, the Queen kicked th'bucket," Nate tilted his head seeing his wife's red puffy eyes. "Oh shit, bad time?" 

"THE QUEEN DIED?" Lyddie screamed. "She was okay a couple days ago! What happened? She can't just die! What the fuck? Out of nowhere?" 

"Well, not exactly out of nowhere, love, the woman was nearin' 100..." he murmured.

"So much for anti-monarchy," Win grumbled, rolling her eyes. 

"Yeah, she was good and old, one foot in th'grave an all, y'know? People have been waiting for this for a while..." Nats added.

"Everybody knows you can be a republican and still like the Queen! It's the Queen! The only one I've ever known, the only one my parents ever knew..." Lydia tried to work through the shock. "And what's the alternative? Carrot finger Dumbo and his mistress?"

"Th'alternative? Uh, I dunno, abolish th'whole bloody monarchy?" Win muttered. 

"Don't know if y'know Lyds, but um- back in Ireland we're not her biggest fans," Nate sat down, stroking her back. "Pretty sure the chants in the streets now are Lizzie's in a box... but we're all here, we love ya."

"Yeah, course we love yeh. It's gunna be okay," Nats assured, sitting down on her other side.

"They've been here forever, they're not going anywhere," Lydia clung to Nats. "Oh no! The corgis..." 

"The corgis will be fine," Nate murmured. "I think you're still gettin' over Betty White and Sond-" 

"Don't say Sondheim or I'll cry..." she breathed, nearly a whisper. "I was gonna meet the Queen next month, the Royal Variety Performance."

"Maybe we should turn off Th'Crown," Win suggested, grabbing the remote and turning off the television while the boys comforted her. 

"Hey, would it make y'feel better if we tried t'conjure th'Queen?" Nats exclaimed, snapping his fingers as he thought of it.

"You're gonna... conjure Queen Elizabeth? Won't she be angry at us? I mean, our flat is a dump next to her lavatory, let alone the rest of her palace," Lydia pouted. 

"Well then guess you'll just meet the new King and Queen when you're singin' next month..." Nate teased. 

"Queen consort! Camilla could never! And the new King is a self-proclaimed tampon, no way! I wanna meet the OG." 

“Well, maybe we won’t conjure her physically,” Nats mused, tapping his bottom lip in thought. “What if we used an ouija board just t’talk to her?” 

“How would you even know if you were actually talking to Queen Elizabeth?” Win snorted.

"We ask? Ghosts don't really have a reason to lie, do they?" Lydia watched as Nate made her a neon pink board. 

"I guess that one time Jamie just omitted the fact that he was dead... he didn't lie," he sighed heavily.

“Or if they’re evil spirits,” Win said, pitching her voice low for effect while wigging her fingers ominously.

"Don't be silly... we can all see ghosts, if there were evil spirits roaming around I think we'd know. The ghosts we see are the ones we attract," Lyddie scoffed, trying not to think too much about that possibility.

“Serve yourselves then,” she shrugged. 

“Aw c’mon, Winnie, at least come out your fingers on th’plancette,” Nats said, gesturing for her to join them around the coffee table.

"Please stay with us, just... don't move it around on purpose," Lydia asked, somewhat scared of what could happen. She didn't wanna end up like the Exorcist girl or another stupid child who misused the board. 

"She wouldn't do that, it's okay, none of us would... maybe me, but I'm givin' you my word," Nate assured.

“I promise I won’t take th’piss,” Winnie said, holding her hand up solemnly before grinning at her wife and placing her fingers on the edge of the planchette. “So, how d’we start this thing?” she asked, looking at Nate.

"Oh, this is exciting, it's like The Craft... only hopefully with a better ending," Lydia cleared her throat before closing her eyes.

"When you're done don't forget t'say goodbye," Nate warned. "Okay okay. Hello spirits," she nodded and he covered his mouth not to laugh. "We are holding this seance to reach a very special person, we hope you all understand. Only positive energies are allowed in this circle and we humbly ask Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary of Windsor to come forward."

For a long moment, nothing happened, and the four of them held their breaths, their fingers trembling on the planchette, but it didn’t move.

"I guess I should explain... your majesty, I'm Lydia Young, I was about to perform in the royal variety show with my wife Win. My Irish husbands are here too, but no hard feelings." 

"Well, some hard feelin's, my family... sorry we can talk politics later, Lizzie," Nate shook his head just as the planchette moved to hello.

Win’s brows rose and she nearly pulled her hands away. “Holy fu—“ she breathed. “It’s actually moving.” 

“Ask her somethin’ else, Lyds!” Nats urged, excitement coursing through him. He half wondered if it was only working because of his and his twin's medium powers.

"Um... your majesty, did you attend your son's second wedding reception wearing white as retaliation for when Camilla wore white to his first wedding?" Lydia asked. 

"Seriously? That's your question?" Nate chuckled and for a long time, nothing happened again.

“Did we lose her?” Win wondered aloud, watching the board for any tremble of movement.

Instead of drifting towards the yes or no, the planchette vibrated slightly before moving to the letter S. 

"S? what does that mean? I, M..." Nate watched it in confusion. 

"Simon? Why is she talking about him?" Lydia felt another shiver, but instead of excitement, this time it was fear.

"Guys, I don't think we're talkin' to th'dear departed Queen," Winnie whispered, her mouth going dry. She wanted to pull her hands away or yank the planchette to the 'goodbye' scrawled in the corner, but she couldn't move.

"Oh well, I think we have the wrong person, so... we respectfully ask to end this seance and say goodbye," Lyds stammered, but her hand was pulled as the spirit started to spell another word. 

"Oh shit... MU... MUR... Murder, that's just great," Nate grimaced, shaking his head and regretting every decision he made that day.

"Simon and Murder," Win mused. "Oh fuck... I think we're talkin' to--" her exclamation cut short as the table beneath the ouija board began to vibrate.

"Sally? Is that you?" Lydia asked and the planchette surged towards the yes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, we know he killed you, you were gonna send us to jail! For a self-defense murder!" 

"Wait who's Sally?" Nate asked before his mouth fell open. "Oh... the corpse bride lookin' cunt who gave me shit for that brick on her windshield!"

“Yeah, our probation worker,” Win added.

Nats opened his mouth to ask what to do next when the lights began to flicker ominously and the planchette began to move again. “What’s she spellin’ now?” he yelped, hoping no one could hear how freaked out he was.

"Justice... oh please! You're dead!" Lydia cried, but she didn't want to upset the spirits. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry. It's just that he had to do it." 

"We're good people! We never killed anyone cause we wanted to. Please fuck off," Nate pleaded.

“Let’s hang up, this call is goin’ nowhere,” Win said, dragging the planchette over to the ‘goodbye’ in the corner. “See ya, y’frigid bitch,��� she muttered, wiping her hands. 

“Guess she’s still pissed at us, even after all that time,” Nats mused. “Y’d think she’d mellow out after findin’ her boyfriend in th’afterlife.”

"Maybe they went to different places," Lydia pointed one finger up and one down. "I mean, Tony wasn't amazing, but he didn't do that to us cause he wanted to either. He was possessed." 

"Maybe," Nate shrugged. "Can't see her anywhere, so it's over. Don't worry." 

"I'll call Simon to put a Greek evil eye on his door," she jumped in search of her phone.

"I don't think Tony woulda turned violent unless he already had violence in his heart," Win murmured thoughtfully as she picked up the ouija board to put away. "But I'm glad that's over with, it gave me the skeevies."

"Probably, think we all got powers that had to do with who we are. I've always felt really vulnerable, so I got a shield. Nathan is dumb so he can't die..." 

"Hey!" Nate laughed. "Don't think that's why!"

"I was afraid of bein' seen as a leech, so my power's leechin' other peoples'," Win muttered, still kinda sore about that one, even if it did come in handy.

"Don't say that, your power saved us so many times," Lyddie emerged from their room with her phone to give her wife a hug. But just as she took the other woman in her arms, the bedroom door slammed shut

Yelping in surprise, Win jumped into her arms. "D'you think...? It couldn't have been Sally, could it? We ended the seance..." she whispered, a chill running down her spine.

"She never said goodbye, but... Nate said he couldn't see anyone," Lyds held her protectively. "It was probably the wind, I left the window open."

"Right, yeah. The wind..." she agreed hesitantly, shaking her head, her voice trembling slightly. "C'mon, let's go make something to eat."

"Yeah, there's some leftover curry, I can toast some bread," Lyddie tried to not freak out for everyone's sake. 

"Yummy! I'm starvin', all the supernatural shit really drained me," Nate hopped on the stool and leaned over the counter.

“Are you really not even a little rattled?” Win asked the boys as she pulled the dish of leftovers out of the fridge for Lydia. 

“Nah, what’s she gunna do?” Nats scoffed, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Your mum and our brother have t'make the biggest effort t'visit. What makes Sally so powerful that she could haunt us?" Nate agreed. 

"Don't worry baby, nothing is gonna hurt us, I'm here," Lyddie smiled reassuringly.

Lydia’s words placated Win for the time being, but by the time they were getting ready for bed, more strange things began to happen. 

“Nate, did you filch my clean pyjamas from th’bathroom?” Winnie huffed, emerging in her towel, her hair still dripping.

"That would've been a great idea t'see you naked, but no... someone got there before me," Nate gave his brother an accusatory glare. 

"I can find something for you to wear," Lydia offered, opening the top dresser drawer and screaming when the bottom one opened as well, hitting her legs.

“What, it wasn’t me!” Nats cried, his exclamation turning into a sharp shriek of alarm as his wife cried and jumped back. “Oh shit! Lollipop, you alright?” 

He quickly rushed to her side and kicked the dresser door shut. Suddenly the lights began to flicker faster and faster before the door slammed shut with a whoosh leaving them in darkness. 

“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t th’wind this time!” Win exclaimed, having jumped into Nate’s arms atop the bed. 

"Yeah, we might have a problem," Lydia murmured, letting Nats embrace her. "How can we banish her? She's so salty for no reason! She took my brother's phone, he was just trying to get it back." 

"I don't know, I'd call my priest uncle, but things were a little awkward after the... y'know, fake possession stunt," Nate shared a look with his twin before loosening Winnie's towel to get a peek at her goods. "Ooh, nice, never gets old." 

She gave him a halfhearted smack to the shoulder but didn’t bother recovering herself. 

“I’m gunna ignore th’bit about a fake possession, though I’m definitely curious,” she said, looking between the two. “Maybe we should call a priest though? Not your uncle, but a priest?” she asked, her gaze going to her wife.

"Do you know any priests? I've never even been to a church, my mum's a former Catholic turned atheist and my dad's a Jewish hippie," Lydia covered them all in a force field as one of her Tony awards was launched from the shelf. 

"I don't know, maybe there's some 0800-priest. Do we know any pastors maybe? Or monks? Maybe your dad knows a rabbi!" Nate asked.

“No, sorry. My family never went t’church either.” Win shook her head. “Maybe we could call th’local parish? See if they can help us?” She suggested, wincing as several books exploded from the shelf.

"We can't sleep like this! Let's go over there right now, I'm not letting this cunt hurt you. Nate, get us dressed, we're leaving," Lydia demanded. 

"Right now? It's late," he said, though he followed her instructions, snapping his fingers to dress all of them up. "Could be dangerous." 

"Not as dangerous as sleeping with a vengeful spirit in our house. Someone will have to help us."

“Will anyone even be there at this hour?” Nats asked, quickly shutting his mouth at the look his wife threw him.

"If there isn't, we're spending the night with my parents," Lyddie shoved a few essentials in a backpack and headed to the door while covering herself and the others still.

"What if she tries t'follow us?" he wondered as they walked across the estate to the big cathedral.

"Then I guess we better hope th'priest is in," Win murmured.

As expected, the doors at the church were locked, so Lydia banged with both fists while Nate tried to unlock it. 

"Hey! We need help! We messed it up and now we're haunted!" She screamed.

After several minutes of their pounding and Lyddie's screaming, the door finally swung open, revealing a very disheveled looking man. 

"Yes?" He exclaimed, leaning heavily against the church door.

"There are millions of bloody priests in the world, why the fuck he's the one helpin' us?" Nate hissed. 

"Oh my... this is... this is new," Lydia's legs nearly gave out when she saw him, an exact copy of Nathan but with some facial hair. Not much, but enough to make her weak in the knees. 

I fancy a priest, I'm so going to hell if I die one day, she thought, even more turned on by how sleepy and messy he looked.

"What, may I ask are y'doin' bangin' on th'door at this hour?" The priest asked, his gaze taking in all four of them. 

"Oh..." Win breathed, discreetly reaching for Nate's arm, subconsciously trying to remind herself that she was married. 

"We're bein' haunted!" Nats exclaimed, breaking the silence. "We need an exorcism, STAT!"

"We're so sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you, but it's really urgent," Lydia tossed her hair and fixed her posture. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to this guy, it'd not like anything would ever happen anyway. "There's a vengeful spirit throwing things around the house, we were trying to communicate with the Queen and things went south. We really really need your help," she pouted slightly.

“Why were y’tryin’ to talk to th’Queen?” the priest scoffed, amusement breaking the annoyed expression he wore. “Come on in, I gotta get dressed,” he murmured, gesturing for them to follow him.

"The royals are sort of a hobby of mine," Lydia obeyed, turning agape at Win like a giddy fan meeting her idol. "Even though I'm not exactly a fan of authority... can I ask what's your name, father?" 

"Get a grip, you're married! And thinkin' what you're thinkin' about a priest is a sin for sure," Nate whispered in her ear. 

Win met Lyddie’s look with one of her own and had to fight to stifle her snicker as she overhear his hissed warning. 

“Uh, it’s Kay,” the priest answered distractedly, leading them to his office, which doubled for a bedroom. “Sit wherever y’like, make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, gesturing to a few worn armchairs in the corner while running his other hand through his close cropped curls.

"Thank you," Lydia smiled, already grateful to Sally for being so stubborn. 

Nate took a seat and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her like a dog protecting his bone. "You're shameless, woman," he scolded. 

"What? I didn't do anything, and you are right. We're married, for over ten years, you should be over your silly jealousy by now. He's a man of God, I could never!" She fought not to laugh. "I just hope he can help us with the house. Right, Winnie?"

"Yeah, I hope so too," she agreed, sharing a tiny grin with her wife. 

"Okay, now get me up t'speed," Kay exclaimed as he returned to the room wearing his vestments. "You said somethin' about en exorcism?" he asked, sitting down on the arm of the chair opposite them. 

"Yeah, we're bein' haunted by th'ghost of one of our probation workers," Nats explained.

"Almost fifteen years ago we were arrested and had to do some community service. My brother and this probation worker were having some sort of relationship," Lydia winced thinking about it. "She passed away during an accident and today when we tried to communicate with spirits, she's the one who came forward and she's really angry for some reason. We were wondering if there's anything you can do."

Kay looked thoughtful for a long moment. "I can come and bless your house, I s'pose." 

"That's it?" Nats exclaimed incredulously.

"You say that as if you can do it yourself..." Lydia gave him a pointed look. "That would be great." 

"Sorry, we're not exactly wired t'trust priests," Nate muttered.

Kay winced and opened his mouth before shutting it again, deciding better not to ask. "Since I'm awake, I suppose now's as good a time as any," he said instead, getting to his feet. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, we're so sorry by the way," Lyddie got up, fixing her skirt. "That whole mess might just make me religious." 

"Mhmm, the mess," Nate took her backpack so she wouldn't have to carry it on the way back.

"Oh hush, you," Win hissed, nudging his shoulder as they filed back out the church and back into the night. 

"D'yeh think this'll actually work?" Nats wondered in a hushed voice. "No offense to our lookalike priest," he muttered.

"I really hope so, this has t'be worth it," Nate rolled his eyes, following behind as the girls led the way. "Otherwise we'll have t'move out or some shit."

Once back at the house Nats entered hesitantly, looking around to see if Sally was still around. "I think th'coast is clear for th'moment," he said, turning around to let the others in.

"Ah what a bitch!" Lydia gasped when she saw their stuff scattered all over the floor. "Sorry, I didn't mean to curse." 

"You sure?" Nate held up the two halves of her destroyed signed copy of Junji Ito's Uzumaki. 

"That cunt whore!" She yelped and immediately covered her mouth, shaking her head in embarrassment.

"It doesn't bother me if you swear," Kay assured her, pattering her shoulder lightly as he stepped past her, surveying the room.

Suddenly a vase fell from the mantle, smashing on the ground and making them jump. "Wow, you weren't kiddin', that's one angry spirit," he murmured.

"We have no idea why..." Lyddie shrugged, taking Nate's hand when she noticed he was staring daggers at Kay. "You'll fix my book later, right? And our trophies..." 

"Ask him..." he huffed stubbornly but quietly. 

"Oh come on, are you 33 or 13?"

“I can fix them,” Win whispered. 

“Sometimes it’s not fair you can do that,” Nats grumbled.

"Thank you, my lovely perfect wife," Lydia stuck her tongue out at the boys. 

"You're too soft on her, Winnie," Nate folded his arms.

“And you’re getting your knickers in a twist over nothin’,” she snapped back. 

"If y'say so," Nate couldn't deny that fella was being more than generous helping them out in the middle of the night.

“Not to worry,” Kay said, turning back to the four of them. “I’m going to th’cleanse your house now.”

"Thank you so much, do you need us to do anything, father?" Lydia asked tying her hair up in a ponytail. 

“I’m gunna sprinkle some holy water in each room as I pray. All yeh need t’do is follow me,” he explained, reaching into his robe to grab his vial of the liquid.

"Yeah, of course," she took Win's hand, not for a moment doubting that plan was going to work. It only made sense... Nate on the other hand was quite unimpressed.

Winnie squeezed her wife's hand and followed after Kay. Though she didn't believe in the whole Jesus thing, she hoped that this prayer thing would work. 

"How much you wanna bet this is gunna work or not?" Nats whispered to his twin.

"I bet a threesome that it's not gonna work," he whispered back smugly. "There's no fuckin' way one of our variants is a priest... he must be a fake, only doin' it for the free accommodations."

"Deal." Nats shook on it. 

"What are you two on about?" Win hissed as they passed through the living room to the kitchen where Sally had left another mess. 

"Nothin'," Nate flashed her a charming grin. "Just talkin' about how much we love our wonderful wives. There ya go always thinkin' the worst..."

Kay sprinkled a few drops of holy water as they went, his voice a melodic prayer. Winnie gave the Nathans a doubtful look, but held her tongue, not wanting to disrupt the cleanse.

I think there's something wrong with me, this is turning me on, Lydia thought, making the sign of the cross and shaking those thoughts away. 

Kay continued his prayers, making the sign of the cross before leading them onto the next room. 

Suddenly as they returned to the bedroom, everything began to vibrate violently, but he merely raised his voice louder, unperturbed as he flung a spray of holy water across the space. "Leave this house, spirit! By the name of God, I command ye!" 

"This is exciting," Win breathed, grabbing Lydia's arm.

"Oh you have no idea..." she brought her wife's hand to her chest, where anyone could easily feel her heart racing. "He's not even scared, he's amazing." 

Nate rolled his eyes, trying to look as unfazed, even though he was a little bit freaked out. The lights were flickering and the sounds of the objects flying around were deafening. It all got worse until it finally stopped, leaving them in the most peaceful silence.

"--In God's name, amen." Kay finished his prayer and smiled, turning to face the four of them. "Looks like she's left." 

"Oh thank God," Win exclaimed, while Nats still eyed the room reluctantly, just waiting for Sally to return.

"So that's it? That actually worked?" Nate scoffed, only thinking of the threesome he'd have to sit out. 

"You're a lifesaver! This is incredible! I have no idea how to thank you," Lydia laughed, unable to contain her excitement. "D-do we pay you? Can I bring you lunch tomorrow?"

"Oh," Kay exclaimed, somewhat taken aback. "No payment is necessary, but..." he hesitated, turning his grin on her, "lunch would be nice, after wakin' me up in th'middle of the night," he chuckled. 

"What if she comes back?" Nats cried, scowling at the way Lyddie was gazing at the priest. 

"I suppose, let me know and I'll try something a little more advanced," he answered, frowning slightly. "But in th'meantime, maybe no more tryin' to contact the dearly departed Queen via ouija board."

"I promise we will never touch another board again, we'll let the Queen rest," Lydia nodded, already planning what she was going to cook the next day. "I'll make sure to update you tomorrow on the whole ghost situation." 

"Yeah well, thanks," Nate sighed, his face unbiddenly showing exactly how jealous he was. "Let's hope she doesn't come back," the last thing he wanted was to invite him over to get rid of another poltergeist.

Kay nodded. "It was my pleasure, good night to you," he said, following them back to the front door and stepping out into the dark street. As soon as he was gone, Nats shut the door heavily and let out a loud sigh.

"Winnieeeeeee!" Lydia squealed, jumping around, it had been a few years since a new variant had appeared. "We're ghost free! Well not really, but the bad ones are gone I hope." 

"Thankfully," Nats sighed, catching her around the middle.

"Guess I'll clean the mess then," Nate muttered, waving his hand to fix what was broken and get it back in place even though he swore he wouldn't do it.

Win laughed at her wife's excitement before turning to Nate and winding her arms around his neck, stretching to do so. "Thank you, babe," she whispered. 

"Yeah yeah..." he tried to fight a smile. "What don't I do for you two?" He held her in turn, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

She smiled, tilting her chin to look up at him. "Think we can resume where we were when I was in your lap with naught but a towel?" she purred, twining one of his curls around her finger. 

"Now that's a plan," he lifted her in his arms, disappearing with her clothes even before reaching the bedroom. "So much better."

She giggled, letting out a yelp as he tumbled to the bed with her. "So glad to have our home back t'normal," she murmured, running her fingers through Nathan's curls.

"Me too, from now on we only summon the spirits we know," Nate mumbled against her lips. "I kinda bet a threesome with Nats and lost, so I'll keep you tonight. All mine."

"Guess y'shoulda had more faith then," Win teased, opening her mouth to him, grinning into the kiss. "But mmm, I like th'sound of bein' all yours tonight."

"Stop with that face, I'm not even looking and I know which face you have," Lydia turned in Nats' embrace and touched the tip of his nose with her own. "See? I knew it."

"And what face is that?" He asked with a laugh, pressing his lips to the tip of her nose.

"It's cute, you always scrunch your nose and your lips do this thing when you eat something you don't like or when you're jealous," she teased, scratching his scalp gently.

"Yeah, yeah, obviously I'm jealous," he grumbled, pushing his lip out further.

"As cute as it is when you're jealous of us, you know there's nothing to worry about, have we ever fucked another Nathan? We met several... and this is probably the only one who doesn't want anything to do with us," Lydia assured, stealing a kiss.

"I know," Nats murmured, pulling her closer by the waist and deepening the kiss.

"Good, you're the only one for me," she whispered. "Well, not really, but you get the picture."

Tag List: @firstpersonnarrator @elliethesuperfruitlover

[the-fiction-witch]

Grown up Halloween day 28 pretty Penelope

Media irl

Character Isaac Hempstead Wright

Couple Isaac X Reader

Rating scary

Grown up Halloween day 28

I sat with a wide smile seeing her so happy, little Lizzy sat on the floor surrounded by the various ripped paper having opened all her birthday presents and getting to her last one ripping open the bright pink paper off the large cream box revealing the plastic window and the doll within. She was deathly pale, with little pink pigtails in a long pink dress her strange unblinking eyes… made me want to kick it away. 

“Awwwww a pretty Penelope dolly!” Lizzy smiled ripping the box open to get at the doll "thank you!" She smiled happily bringing it to me "look daddy look a pretty Penelope dolly"

"Yes sweetheart very nice" I told her giving her a cuddle

"Do you agree?" I asked y/n as we sat in bed her doing some knitting

"What?" She giggled

"That doll is creepy?"

"All dolls are a little creepy Isaac"

"Yeah but.... Like. That doll."

"It's a little spooky but she adores the show"

"I know. The doll just gives me the creeps"

"I'm sure it's fine you know what she's like two weeks she'd have moved on to something else and that doll will be burried in her closet"

"Your right. How's little one doing?' I asked stroking her belly

"Fine giving me alot of morning sickness"

"Well maybe it's another girl Lizzy made you sick constantly"

"Perhaps. I thought you wanted a boy?"

"I don't care so long as we get an adorable little baby"

"Mummy, daddy" her little voice Cooes at our door so we turned and saw Lizzy stood with her creepy doll

"Hi sweetie'

"I had a nightmare can I sleep with you"

"Oh of course" I smiled helping her into bed even if I wanted that doll as far away from me as possible no matter where I sat in bed that doll was looking at me with those strange glossy eyes y/n felt I was uncomfortable so moved the doll over to her side with Lizzy between us, I cradled both of them in my arms as we got some sleep but I woke up to a horrific sound y/n was choking the pillow over her face o was so panicked confused how it could have happened quickly moving the pillow letting her gasp for air

"Are you okay?"

"I think so. Lizzy must have pushed the pillow or something"

"Yeah, Lizzy must - Lizzy." My panic set in again as I noticed she wasn't breathing her little pig tails plaits had wrapped around her neck as fast as I could I moved them away seeing how tight they where and have her CPR until she coughed back awake taking a deep breath "Lizzy! Darling are you okay?"

"Penelope!"

"What?"

"Penelope hurt me daddy!"

I didn't know what to think of course her doll didn't do this but at the same time I did get a weird feeling about that doll, and I love Lizzy to death she wouldn't like to me I saw the truth of what she was saying in her eyes

"Okay. Then pretty Penelope is getting a time out" I told her grabbing the doll heading to the spare bedroom throwing the doll in the wardrobe and shutting the doors putting a coat hanger thought the handles so it couldn't be opened "there she's in time out let's all get some sleep"

I sat having some breakfast toast considering weather or not to run a bath this morning when I heard a scream I bolted upstairs seeing Lizzy on the floor of her bedroom covered in bruises like she'd been thrown out her bed repeatedly

"Ohh Lizzy sweetheart are you okay?"

"Penelope pushed me!" She yelled pointing to the doll on her bed

"Did you get her out of time out?"

"She was on my bed when I got home" she says

I know I didn't get the doll out and I doubt y/n would have

"Okay, well if she's been pushing you she's going in another time out" I said grabbing the doll and taking it this time to the kitchen locking it in the pantry cupboard will the snacks y/n can't eat while she's pregnant sitting the padlock on it "there all safe"

I finished up my shower grabbing my towel as I climbed out but the moment I stepped on the floor o heard a scream so I bolted into our bedroom seeing y/ns hair caught in the desk fan trying to drag her in or even scalp her I quickly unplugged it and rushed over

"Are you okay!"

"Yeah I must have just... My chair feel back as I was doing my hair" she says

"Well atleast your alright darling" I smiled giving her a kiss but I heard another scream so we both rushed to Lizzy's room where a fire had been started in her little bin and her tied to the bed by her scarf

I quickly put the fire out and y/n untied Lizzy

"What happened?"

"Penelope!" She screamed between tears pointing to the door where the doll sat

I was baffled thinking how on earth a doll could do this but then again how could Lizzy have done this on her own

"I locked her in the pantry did you get the doll out?" I asked y/n

"No. Did you?"

"No. Lizzy did you get Penelope out of time out?"

"No daddy I didn't!"

"Okay. I don't know what is going on but I'm not taking any chances" I grabbed the doll and headed outside seeing the binmen just a few houses down I stuffed the doll in the top of our bin and waited with my hand on the lid at all times till they took it pouring it and crushing it in the lorry I waited till I drove away and headed inside promising to buy her a new toy at the shops today

I stood cuddling and kissing my beautiful wife as she cooked dinner

"Ummm I love you so much'

"Awww I love you too Isaac" she smiled before she turned to get something from the fridge but she screamed I looked and saw on the kitchen floor stood the pretty Penelope doll

"Did you buy her a new one?'

"No. Did you?"

"Nope."

"I'm pretty Penelope I love you!" The doll plaid

"I didn't think it could talk'

"It can't."

"Hell no!" I grabbed the doll and immediately took it outside to the BBQ I didn't stop till that doll was ash "next time I get a weird feeling about a toy. We burn it. Agreed"

"Agreed" she's nods

[inviba]

Our Chemistry - Part 2

Mark Sloan x LexieGreysTwinSister!Fem!OC

Masterlist

warnings: death, dying, blood, slut shaming, OC has dating problems, sloan being seductive, death of a parent, burn victims, surgery

Me and the other interns run after Yang and a couple other doctors.

"What do we got?"

"A gas main blew in an apartment building. Five injured, some badly." Dr. Torres explains.

"Excellent." Yang says before seeing their faces.

"Horrible. It's horrible. Sad." She corrects.

"Marla Kristler, 34-year-old female, abdomen blown out, skull fracture, third degree burns over at least 40% of her body." The paramedic rushes the woman inside.

"Okay, I got this. Open O.R. two. Page Dr. Shepherd, Torres, triage the rest." The chief says.

"Yes, sir. Yang, you're with the chief. Go." Torres yells.

"One, three, come with me." Yang points to one of the interns and then Lexie.

"What about us?" I ask.

"Help Bailey in the clinic." She responds.

I blow Lexie a kiss and run over to the clinic.

-

I scribble things down in my notepad as I follow Dr. Bailey.

"Rooms one and seven are private and should be used for private conversations with patients, not for closed-door socializing. All carts are set up the same. Memorize where everything is."

"Will we be able to do procedures on our own?" The guy with me asks.

"No. You are interns. You are in charge of nothing. All procedures will be discussed and overseen by an upper level. All charts will be signed out by an upper level. And all patients will be looked at by someone other than you!"

"What if we can't find anyone?" I ask.

"You page them."

"Right." I say as she walks off.

-

I look up to see Meredith walking in the clinic.

"Hey. Are you working here today?" I ask her.

"I don't know."

"Great. We have no idea what we're doing. Plus, I was really hoping we'd get a chance to speak."

-

"Dr. Grey. I was wondering." I say as I stand next to her.

"Do you know where the thermometers are?"

"Do you really not know where the thermometers are? Or are you just looking for an excuse to talk to me?"

I go to speak but she cuts me off.

"It's a simple question. Are you an idiot or a stalker?"

I don't say anything, and she gets a sympathetic look on her face.

"Okay. That was a mean thing to say. I'm aware of that because I'm generally not a mean person. But I'm a person who just doesn't want to know you. And you are two people who are making that very difficult. So please, just stop making it so difficult for me to not know you. Okay?"

After a few minutes, I talk again.

"We're nice people. Okay? We are. And I don't know what it is that we did to you, but, you know, we have the same dad. So we were just thinking that a simple conversation—"

"We don't have the same dad. We do not have the same dad, Lizzie. My dad disappeared when I was 5 years old, and I never saw him again. Does that sound like the daddy you grew up with?"

I shake my head.

"I kicked a man out of my bed in the middle of the night. The world's most perfect man, who loves me, and I can't let him. And it doesn't take a shrink to figure out why. Because our dad chose you. So I'm sure you two are very nice girls. But I hope you can understand. You aren't people I ever wanted to have to know."

She walks away.

Definitely a fail.

-

Lexie and I are doing our charts when Meredith walks up to me

"Hey, I'm filling in for Cristina. So, how's it going?"

"I pulled a splinter out of a guy's toe." Lexie says.

"And now we're writing about it." I follow.

"Okay. Well, if you have any questions—"

"We have a lot of questions, just not about a splinter." I say.

Just then, someone barges in the E.R. with a gurney.

"40-year-old unrestrained driver in a rollover M.V.C."

"Trauma one." Meredith blurts out.

"Lost vitals on the scene, and we were unable to intubate."

"Lexie, Lizzie, come on!" Meredith yells, and we follow her.

"Open the intubation tray. How long's he been down?"

"Took ten minutes to load him, fourteen to get here, so twenty-four."

"Push another epi."

"You know how to intubate?" She asks me.

"I've never done it."

"But you've seen it done?"

"Yeah, a few times."

"Okay. Come do one now."

I go up to the patient.

"Visualize the cords, pull straight up, watch the tube go through the cords." She talks me through it.

"I can't see the cords. You should do it." I panic.

"No. You can do it, okay? Just don't rock up against the teeth. Just pull straight up."

"Pulse ox is down to 86."

I take a deep breath and do as she says.

-

"It wasn't bad." She says.

"What?" I ask, staring at the body.

"That wasn't bad for your first intubation." Meredith repeats.

"Is that some kind of joke? The guy is dead. He died."

"He was dead when he came in here. He was dead on the scene. He was dead for 15 minutes in the ambulance. He was dead before I asked you to intubate."

"You're pretty cavalier, don't you think? They brought him here for help." Lizzie says as Meredith looks up.

"They brought him here because they're legally required to. I had Lizzie intubate because I'm required to teach you, and that is how you learn."

"No. No, you should have done everything that you could." She continues.

"That was everything that I could."

"Well, what kind of doctor are you?" I yell.

"What is this about?"

I pause.

"If you don't want to learn from me, that's fine. But I have to cover the pit today. So why don't you do all of us a favor and go help Bailey in the clinic?"

"Fine." I whisper and walk off.

-

I turn a corner to see Bailey.

"Dr. Bailey. Dr. Grey sent me down here to work with you."

"Oh, she did, did she? And why is that?"

"Honestly, she didn't want to work with me anymore. She kicked me out."

"You can go tell Dr. Grey that the clinic is not a dumping ground for strays. We are not the island of broken interns. Please go tell her that." She finishes as she grabs a bag and walks off.

I follow her.

"Please don't make me do that. I can't work with Meredith Grey. I can't work with her because I can't look at her. Because she hates me, she hates my twin sister, she hates my dad, and she obviously hated my mother. Please just let me work down here today. Please, Dr. Bailey." I beg her with tears in my eyes.

After a moment of thinking, she speaks.

"Kid in curtain three needs stitches. Go."

I silently thank her and walk off.

-

"Hey, Lex, what does this word mean again?" I ask as I point to my paper with a pen.

She quickly jots down the definition under it and I smile at her.

When Meredith walks up, Lexie is annoyed.

"What?"

"I have your mother's death note here. Everything that happened on the day she died is in here. And I know because I wrote it. So? I'd like to go over it with you two if that’s okay."

"Yeah." I whisper.

"Okay, first of all, let me just say that everything that happened that day— every setback— there was a one percent chance of each of those things happening. One percent. And your mother was the one percent."

She pauses for a moment before flipping a page.

"She came in complaining of persistent hiccups. We did an endoscopic fundoplication."

"You did it endoscopically?" I ask.

"So it would be an outpatient procedure. We wanted to avoid major surgery. For what it's worth, I was very fond of your mother. I was very fond of her." She says as we share a sympathetic look.

-

"Yeah. This is a third-degree burn. You said you were cooking with hot oil?" I ask the woman in the clinic bed.

"Yes. It all splashed onto me."

"You'll be just fine. To make sure you don't get any type of infection, I'm gonna go ahead and page our head of plastics."

"As in plastic surgery? I don't want plastic surgery."

"He does handle plastic surgery, but he also works on burns like yours, and with it being on such a big area, I don't think you want an intern like me to handle it myself."

-

"You're the Grey that paged me?" I hear a voice from behind me.

"Yes, Dr. Sloan. There's a woman in bed four with third-degree burns. I've never tended to them myself."

He gives me a look before walking me over to where the woman is laying.

"Wendy, this is Dr. Sloan, our head of plastics."

"Grey, go get a burn kit." Mark says as he puts on gloves.

"Yes, sir."

-

"Your burns weren't too bad, but the bandaging may be uncomfortable." I explain to Wendy.

I undo the roll of bandages and begin wrapping it around her torso.

"Are you two a thing?" She asks me with a look on her face.

"Me and Dr. Sloan? No. No, no, no. We're not a thing." I laugh.

"I saw the way he looked at you. Don't lie to me, girl. He's is a good-looking man, and you seem like a very sweet girl." She laughs back.

"Uhm, I just met him a few days ago. It's not like that."

"You're blushing. Do you like him?"

"I don't know, ma'am. I don't know." I say as I finish her bandages.

"Ms. Bauer, you should be good to go. Come back to the clinic in a few days so I can check how you're healing."

"I will if you make a move on him." She jokes as she grabs her purse and gets up.

-

"And he kept putting his hands on mine and whispering in my ear. I felt like I was boiling in my skin." I say tensly.

Lexie sits at the end of the bed I'm laying on, eating an apple.

"Sounds like you have the hots for McSteamy." She jokes.

"I'm not ready for this, Lex. After the last guy."

"The last guy was the first guy."

"Yeah, I know. But I told him because we had gone on six amazing dates, and I thought he would understand. I woke up the next morning to a note of him calling me a whore."

"I know, Liz. It's gonna be okay. Not every guy is like him. Sloan seems nice, and I don't think he would do that. He seems to have the hots for you, too." She slaps my leg.

"You're hilarious."

"Did I tell you that the guy from the bar is Dr. Shepherd?"

"That's the guy from the bar? Your luck is shit, Lex." I laugh before covering my face with my arm.

"No. He's a good guy. He really, really loves Meredith. And he's good for her. He wants kids with her. He wants to marry her. When he didn't know who I was, he said no because he loves her. I know she doesn't like us, but she still deserves a good guy."

"True, true."

[kennheir]

@floripire / cont'd from here!

"i hear you, i do," flori says while she raises her head so she can look at belle. it lasts for all of 0.5. seconds before she lays back down in belle's lap again. "but loren said that an enchantment like that - one that kept someone like the green knight in stasis - can never be reversed. just broken. holding him as he died was a... kindness."

she swallows audibly. "so i don't want there to be a next time. i just want it to stop. all the monsters. all the threats. the pain. i just want to spend time with my friends and not worry about whether or not we'll actually make it to graduation."

SOMETIMES A PART OF HER CAN'T HELP BUT WISH THEY COULD LIVE NORMAL LIVES. That Hope, Lizzie, and Flori could attend classes like normal teenagers without having to fend off constant monster attacks from a hell dimension. But none of them could ever hope to be that lucky. (Normality's overated anyway.)

"Pretty sure we could use a little more kindness, these days." With the forced Merge madness and her sister's impromptu nap (That she is DEFINITELY gonna kick alaric's ass for.), the Salvatore school's been rocked more than once by death knocking on it's door.

"And we're gonna make that happen, ok? The shit pit's got a LOT to answer for and he's not gonna be around for much longer." They just need to figure out a way to trick the sludge into thinking Hope's a full tribrid without leaving her sister eternally 19. (Belle's lived her entire life as Hope Mikaelson's baby sister, she's not ready to face losing her, even temporarily.)

"If worse to come worst, you know you guys are always welcome in the Quarter, right?" Well, Jed might have SERIOUS explaining to do with the Pack but Belle can admit he's changed from the kid who helped bully Henry to hybridism and death.

[thelittlebeekeeper]

feeling politically incensed rn

[evita-shelby]

A preview of something i am working on

May eventually become part of the final arc of National Anthem

Thanks @mysatnin for the request

The house is dark and somber, not at all how theirs is.

The décor was impeccable, the contrast of the pale ceiling and its devotion to the memory of a woman who haunted the man who killed her giving it the same coldness of a mausoleum.

There is no life here, not after the only thread of light in its mistress’ life was cut short by the living curse that is her husband.

Shelby who couldn’t get his head out of his ass and just be there for their daughter’s last moments.

Elizabeth Shelby had already packed her things; she just needs a reason to take her stepson ---who’s own mother was killed by the curse he has inherited, what a shame--- and run. And tonight, she will get it.

“Oh, no, Gina's running wild, y'see. Harrods, dоpе, amphetamines, lords and ladies, you know, the whole English aristocracy thing. Fսck wine - whiskey. Shelby, you having whiskey?” After that little adventure torturing the informant, Jack is as if he’d taken a hit of the opium they are dealing.

The man had been wild, alive like he hasn’t been since Atlantic City. There had been blood on his hands when he returned to the hotel and neither had cared about the state they left the dining room in their suite after.

“I'll stay on wine.” Shelby does not drink, doesn’t eat nor do anything than sit there with his guilt and pain as if he wasn’t the architect of his own misery.

Eva’s let Jack do most of the talking and once they cleared the table of dessert and brought out more wine, she took the opportunity to observe and see what she can use for later when the two interlopers kick the box from under Shelby and watch him be strangled by the noose he made with their help.

“Fuck wine, more whiskey. I'm celebrating. Celebration, you know. Getting off this fucking island.” Jack has never been known for his sensitivity to others. Only cared for what was his and the rest can get fucked for all he cared.

He saw himself in Shelby, but then Shelby just had to fall short of his expectations. What man leaves his dying child in search of a fantasy he made in his head?

There had never been a curse, just lies he paid others to tell him so he could absolve himself over the curse that befall on Grace because he married her.

Ruby’s death was not magic, not a curse no matter how much it looked like it was. Just a disease caught from a playmate at the Christmas Pantomime, you know the one her daddy was too busy with a whore to be at.

“You see, the thing with England, the currency here, it's not money. Nah. You got bored of money a long time ago. Cos you know anyone can have money, you can fucking... you can fսcking find money in the mud. You can forge money. Mr. Shelby, you can steal money, am I right?” Jack goes on his tirade against the symbolism of wine and the upper class.

He cared about the working class, about reforms and yet his fortune is made by trampling over everyone else. Once upon a time he had been a card carrying communist too.

Jack’s money and power were earned in equal parts ambition and spite.

“The currency here, it's blood. And Mr. Shelby knows that better than all of them. Blood here is like wine, like the vintage wine in that bottle. It's the label, it's the terroir, it's the grape that makes the wine. Who fսcking cares about the glass around it?

And you, my friend, you're an American.”

At these words, Lizzie seems to perk up. She is a woman everyone underestimated because of who she used to be. As if the blue bloods didn’t have whores who did it for money like she had to.

“You fսcking smash the glass, you spill the blood and you spend their currency to get what you want. Am I right?

When you come to America, I will show you things.” Jack knows the wife hasn’t been made aware of the deal. Unaware of what is waiting for him in Miquelon Island.

“You’re going to America?”

“To Canada, Lizzie, to collect payment for the shipment. I need to do it myself.” Shelby couldn’t trust anyone after Grace fucked him up in ’19. Not Grace, not Lizzie, not anyone.

He used to trust Lizzie, but now that he thinks he’s dying he knows he cannot trust her not to let him die and make this cold tomb home to another ghost.

“And who will be going with you?” the grieving mother asked knowing why he goes.

He craves death, Shelby has always wanted to die. All his victories were hollow, the melancholia never left no matter how much he pretends it has.

Not Grace, not Lizzie, no one could cure it because people aren’t cures. No one told Shelby that and now a little girl is dead.

But he won’t find death. Just the knowledge that the King of the New World won’t let him die as punishment for his sins.

Its easy to die, nothing worse than being forced to go on living and redeem yourself when everyone you love hates you.

“Michael will be there to watch his back.” Jack knows damn well what he’s doing. He hates Tommy for the part he played in Clive’s death years ago. Clive who had been his only real friend in Harvard where everyone hated him for being him.

Lizzie was more than capable of running the legal businesses with them and King Solomons’ heir had always been in their pocket.

“Another journey, Tommy?” Lizzie begs him to reconsider with her question.

“Five million, Mrs. Shelby. It’s worth a little cruise, don’t you think?” It was personal. Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass about Michael, this was his way of avenging Clive MacMillan.

“You know whiskey does talk, Mr. Nelson, and sometimes whiskey is…very eloquent, but five million, Mr. Nelson… Now, that is a legacy. And when I come back, I will know everything.” Shelby finally speaks, knowing Michael will be the one to come home in a box.

Shelby like Jack won’t die until old age comes for them. Jack knows that, this was not about killing him. The soul is already dead, there was no need to kill the body.

They needed him for the hell to come, unfortunately.

“I see myself so clearly in you, Thomas Shelby. You are a man with a bright and glittering future.”

[iheartgracie]

lizzie young quotes in keeping 13

“Well, that's a shitty thing to do," Lizzie shot back. Hopping down from the toilet bowl she had been balancing on, she wiped her hands on her school skirt and stalked towards me. Her dark-blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her lips were painted a scarlet-red color, making her look even more beautiful than normal. "We were worried to death about you," she added, before pulling me into a hug. "You little dope.”

“He picked her up, Liz," Claire squealed, as Lizzie dragged her away. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah, I saw it, now let's go, whore." Keeping her hands on Claire's shoulders, Lizzie pushed her in the direction of the office. "We need to tell Mr. Twomey that we found her."

"But, Liz, he actually picked her up to kiss her!"

"Yeah, Claire, I know. I have eyes, too. Stop being such a weirdo.”

“He just kissed me."

Both girls looked disappointed with my response.

"Just kissed you," Lizzie replied flatly. "Wow. He sounds exciting.”

“Lizzie mused, smiling now. She was so pretty when she smiled. It was a rare thing nowadays, but when she smiled, it was wonderful”

“A loud sniffle from the armchair startled me and I swung around.

"Lizzie?" My brows shot up in surprise when I spotted her slumped in the chair. Abandoning the kettle, I made a beeline for her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She clearly wasn't.

Sinking into the chair opposite her, I rested my elbows on my knees and offered her a small smile. "Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I…" Hesitating, I reached over and took her hand in mine. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be okay, Shan," she strangled out, dropping her head so I couldn't see her cry. "Honestly, I'll be fine."

"I know," I agreed, giving her hand a small squeeze. "But it's okay if you're not fine right now."

"I'm just so angry all the time," she confessed, keeping her head down. "It won't stop.”

“There's no justice in the world," she bit out.

"No," I agreed sadly. "There isn't."

"I fucking hate this school, Shannon," she hissed. "I hate that team and everything they represent."

My heart sank. "Gibsie reminds you of him?"

Lizzie flinched. "I can't help it. Every time I look at him, I see him.”

“It's all a mess."

"Why?"

"Because I can't get past it," she sniffled. "I can't see beyond it, and I can't get over it. I'm stuck and I keep driving him away." Releasing a furious growl, she wiped her eyes and jerked to her feet. "It doesn't even matter. He can fuck off if he wants to. I'm not holding him down and making him stay. If he wants to be done then we're done."

"Lizzie –"

"I don't want to talk anymore," she cut me off by saying. "I can't.”

“Why do we need razors?"

"Because we're going gardening, girls. Down under."

"You come anywhere near my vagina with a razor and I'll stab you," Lizzie warned. "I'm not even joking.”

“Okay, topic changer before I throw my lunch up," Lizzie interjected, feigning a gag. ”

“You want normal?" Gibsie asked, giving her a wolfish grin. "I can do that."

"He can't," Lizzie interjected. "It's physiologically impossible for him to act like a normal human.”

“Eat shit," Lizzie growled.

"I'd eat shit before I'd eat you," he shot back.

"I'm devastated," Lizzie fake gasped. "Watch me wipe my tears," she added, using her middle finger to wipe her cheek.”

“It's all just shits and giggles for you, isn't it, Liz? You can say whatever the hell you want to anyone and we're all supposed to just take it because you have issues."

"Don't you dare, Gibs," Lizzie hissed, eyes narrowed, as she continued to shove at Gibsie, pushing him backwards. "Don't you fucking dare bring that up!”

“She's all prickles, but there's a good person under that. She's a lot like Joey in ways. She makes it very hard for people to love her, but it's a defense mechanism. Trust me, I know.”

“I'm going to kick her ass," Lizzie's voice filled my ears as she stalked into the bathroom, looking furious. "That bitch has some nerve showing up here.”

“Screw the highroad," Lizzie tossed out. "I would have kicked her ass.”

“No. Just…no, Claire," Lizzie grumbled, trudging along beside her, looking like the angel of fury. "It's way too early for your demonic optimism.”

“Why are you two still here?" Lizzie asked in a flat tone.

"Liz," Claire snickered. "Be nice."

"I am being nice," Lizzie countered. "I could have said fuck off.”

“They're annoying," Lizzie corrected. "And catty, and bitchy."

"They are," Gibsie agreed. "And we only have room for one catty bitch in this group."

"Thor, you better not start with me this morning," Lizzie warned. "I'm trying to be cordial here, but your face is just setting me off.”

[s-creations]

Choking on Your Hubris

Raz knows he's cursed. He's experienced that hand reaching up to swipe at him enough time to know he's cursed. To bad Norma doesn't believe him and his own stubbornness lands him in a familiar situation.

_________

Fandom: Psychonauts          Rating: General Audience           Relationships/Pairings: Nothing major       Warnings: Discussion of almost drowning, Quick rescue, Almost losing someone, First work for this Fandom, a ‘what if’ situation.

Idea comes from InkayInks Prompt List.

“How stupid do you think we are?”

 Norma’s question cut through the conversation easily. Raz, who had been talking about his family to the other interns, stopped short. Turning to face the pyrokinesis specialist. Who was looking back with a raised brow. 

 “What?” The ten-year-old asked. 

 “There are no such things as curses. Psychics have better things to do than to play ‘fortune tellers’. And you know that manipulating someone’s mind is wrong, but that doesn’t make them cursed either. I don’t know why your father poisoned your mind with-”

 “He didn’t!” Raz quickly argued back, “He wouldn’t and I’m telling the truth! If I get too close to water, this weird hand thing comes out to try to grab me and pulls me into the water.”

 “Yeah...it hurts me to say this, but I’m with Norma on this,” Lizzie said slowly, “It just sounds...weird.” 

 Adam nodded in agreement as he folded his arms. “Never in my years of research have I ever heard of anything like this. Not curses, no nothing.”

 “Are you kidding me? You all were in agreement when I was telling the story.” Raz complained. 

 “Yeah, before Norma sunk some sense into us,” Gisu replied, “Sorry Raz. It was a good story though.”

 “It’s not a story! I’m telling you, I’ll drown by a weird hand if I get anywhere near water!”

 Norma stood at that. Towering over Raz as she started him down. “Prove it.”

 “W-What?”

 “You’re really adamant about this. Show us this so-called ‘curse’.” 

 “You want me to die?”

 “No, I want to see this mysterious hand. Don’t worry your baby head. I’ll make sure you’re safe and step in if it’s too much for you.”

 Raz swallowed weakly, biting his bottom lip as he surveyed the room. None of the interns seemed to be willing to come to his rescue. Some even looked curious as well. Eyes flitted back up to Norma. Who’s all knowing smirk only seemed to grow, which only made Raz’s anger out grow his fear. 

 “Fine.” Said anger he had felt slowly disappeared as they neared the edge of the nearby lake. The murky water rippled innocently as the teens (and child) arrived. 

 “I thought,” Raz's voice cracked, “we were going to the pool?”

 “I told you, you’ll be fine. Besides, where we go shouldn’t matter. Water is water after all. Now, why don’t you go show us your ‘curse’.” Norma said coolly. 

 “But, what if-”

 “Did you lie to us Raz?” Norma’s face changed into false hurt. A hand resting on her chest for dramatic effect. “That’s rude, to lie to your fellow interns.”

 Raz felt sick with fear. He didn't want to get anywhere near the murky water. But, he also wanted to prove he wasn’t lying. He tugged at his sleeve, cautiously making his way towards the water. Heart hammering as he stood mere inches from his possibly watery death. 

 “Well, what are you waiting for?” Norma’s voice broke through the mental panic.

 “What?” Raz squeaked out. 

 “You said you have to be in the water?”

 “...Y-Yeah, or at least c-close to it.” 

 “Well, get on with it then. Unless you were lying and are afraid of being found to be a liar?” 

 “I’m not lying!”

 “You sure are taking your sweet time with this.”

 “You would too if this was a life or death situation!”

 “Please, don’t be such a drama queen. Just admit you’re lying and we’ll go back inside.”

 “Why don’t you just-”

 Raz’s reply was cut off, feeling the familiar icy chill constrict his chest. There was a second of seeing the looks of shock and fear of the other interns before his vision turned watery. Arms trapped at his sides, Raz kicked furiously trying to break away. Only for more hands to reach up to hold him further. His last breath of air escaped his lungs and bubbled up to the surface. The light soon faded as he sank lower and consciousness slipped away…

It was like the back of head had been stabbed by a knife made of ice.

 Sasha struggled to remain upright. Hand reached out frantically, knocking over some equipment, as he found a perch on the nearby table. The sudden mental shock to the system sent him reeling.

  In one second he was being bombarded with emotions of absolute fear and anger, a mental vision of water, and a small cry of ‘Help...me…’. 

 The next he was teleporting to the lakeside. Finding the group of interns standing by the water’s edge. All pale and scared. Except...one was missing.

 “Where is he.” Sasha demanded. Sam merely pointed towards the water. 

 Wasting no time, the agent dove in. The water was frigid, stinging his exposed skin. It was also difficult to see through it. Dark and filled with debris. He swam downwards as quickly as he could. Trying not to think that Raz might not have been pulled directly straight down. That the child could be anywhere down there. A few seconds in passing was all it took to lose someone. 

 It was a short moment of relief when Sasha finally spotted Raz. Only for the worry to grow once again seeing the child was passed out. No bubbles leaving him and his skin sickly pale against the dark water. What looked like hands were wrapped around Raz’s lower body, only the head and shoulders seen. 

 Sasha wasted no time in blasting those hands away. Raz’s form slowed in the descent towards the dirt bottom. The agent moved quickly, grabbing the limp form before the hands could again. With the unmoving body tucked close to his chest, Sasha launched himself upwards to the surface. He gasped for air as he broke the surface. Landing easily on the edge. Ignoring the voices of the worried interns as he laid Raz down. Who was still unmoving.

 “Sir-”

 “Get Milla and Hollis, now.”

 Norma nodded quickly and rushed off. 

 Sasha tilted Raz’s head back, mouth open, and he started CPR. He tried not to show panic as the seconds passed and Raz didn’t stir. Tried to keep his hands steady as all he could think was how cold the child was. Tried to remain calm as nothing changed and Sasha was sure he was about to lose…

 “Darling.” Milla had arrived. Kneeling on the other side of the child, looking terrified. 

 “He’s not responding.” Sasha said weakly.

 “We need to get the water out.” 

 “I know-”

 “Psychically.” Sasha couldn’t argue as his chin was tilted up. Forehead pressed against Milla’s, whose eyes were already closed in concentration. “Focus…”

 Letting his shoulders slump, Sasah gave what he could to help. It was difficult at first to find what they were looking for. Sasha was still internally panicking and had to be pulled back by Milla more than once. Only then could they find the unwanted water blocking Raz’s airway. Even so, it was difficult to move the water out. Finding the correct pathway out and not disturbing anything else. 

 It was a tense few seconds before the water was finally pushed out. Escaping from Raz’s mouth and now hovering as a ball above the violently coughing and gasping child.

 “Easy darling, easy.” Milla placed a hand on Raz’s forehead. Trying to calm the frantic child as Sasha tossed the water back into the lake. 

 “M...M-Milla?”

 “Hush Raz, just catch your breath…”

 “What is going on here!” Hollis, with Norma in tow, came storming over. Fear hidden by a look of anger. 

 Sasha replied with, “Raz was drowning. We were just now able to revive him.”

 “Take him to medbay and get him out of those wet clothes. We don’t need him getting a head cold after all of this.” 

 Milla, with Raz resting in her arms, and Sasha returned to the Motherlobe. Hollis turned to the group of interns. Who all shrunk at the hard eye they were given. “I need someone to tell me why the youngest out of all of you was just rescued from drowning.”

 Sam broke. “So Raz was telling us about his life and family and he said that they had all been cursed to drown if they were near water. We didn’t believe him, especially when Norma pointed out how strange it was. But Raz was really insistent and so Norma told him to prove it and he technically did! Just...I didn’t think it would be so scary…”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you all deliberately pushed someone, a fellow intern, into a dangerous stunt. Almost killing him?”

 “But...Norma-”

 “None of you stopped Raz or called out Norma’s behavior. You’re all training to become Psychonauts. But this behavior makes me question if you all are even ready for this level. Your job is to help people, not push them into dangerous situations! If you can’t treat those who are supposed to be your teammates with respect, what about those you’re supposed to be helping.”

 That caused all heads to drop in defeat.

 “We...should apologize…” Morris offered.

 “No, you are not, not right now. You all are going to be scrubbing the inter living quarters. Which you will be spending the next two months. Yes, away from your private quarters. Don’t give me that look, Lizzie. After that, I want a 20,000 word essay about why this was bad and why you won’t be doing this again. Then you will be baking cookies to be delivered to all in the Motherlobe. Finally, you will all have 200 extra hours of training. And then we’ll see if Raz has anything to say about this. ...If he makes it through this.”

 _________________________

 It was all a blur. Raz was aware he was out of the water (he could breathe again). But he was now freezing, trying to catch his breath, and exhausted. He knew he was being carried by Milla, Sasha nearby, and both were giving off waves of fear. 

 His vision was unfocused, a ringing in his ear and his hearing muffled, limbs were heavy. Raz let out a small groan as he suddenly shifted. Shivering weakly at losing the warmth that Milla had been given. Someone lifted his helmet off, rubbing a towel over his dripping hair. Letting out a yelp when his jacket and sweater were removed.

 “It’s alright Raz, it’s just me.” Sasha’s voice sounded in the younger’s head.

 Soon enough, Raz was dressed in dry sleepwear, wrapped in a thick blanket, laying against someone. He assumed it was Sasha. But he wasn’t quite sure. 

 He winced again when another hand touched his forehead. 

 “Just the doctor, you’re safe Razputin.” 

 An overall check resulted in low body temperature, damaged throat, and no doubt on the road to getting a cold. But, at least he wasn’t dead. Hours passed, nightfall arriving before Raz felt somewhat normal. Surprised that Sasha and Milla had remained the entire time, even after Raz was able to sit up on his own. 

 “Don’t you both have work to do? What about the mission?” Raz asked, his voice quiet. His throat was killing him. 

 “We can keep an eye on you and work at the same time,” Sasha replied, “We’re quite skillful in multi-tasking.” 

 “Unless you want us to leave?” Milla asked. To which Raz shook his head. “Then we’ll stay for as long as you want.” 

 The child smiled weakly at that. Eyes slowly closing as he felt sleep pull at him. Sinking into the overly cushioned bed and pillow, warmth flowing through him and contained by the thick blanket. A kiss was gently placed on his head while a hand gently rubbed the back of his hand. 

 “Sleep well darling.”

 “Get some rest, Razputin.”

 The predicted cold arrived hard and heavy. Raz’s throat remained sore, but had a clogged nose and pounding headache added along with it. His days were filled with medicine, soup, and sleep. Lili stopped by as many times as she could.

 “First my dad’s sick. Then you’re sick after you almost died. Can things please stop falling apart around me?” She sighed softly. Holding out another spoonful of soup for Raz.

 “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” He croaked out.

 “Just keep away from the water. And stop listening to those idiot interns.” 

 “Deal.”

 A week and a half later had passed before Raz could leave the medical ward. And only after Hollis, Sasha and Milla agreed that he looked well enough to do so. He was nervous about returning to the working world, being around the interns again. Not sure if he was mentally ready to face them all again. Even if he had Sasha saying to call him if the teens tried anything again.

 Raz stopped outside the door marking the intern living quarters. Allowing himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts before pushing his way in. He froze in the doorway as five pairs of eyes snapped up to him. Raz not realizing he would be seeing the interns so quickly, believing they’d be hiding away in their personal rooms. The tense situation broke when Sam pushed away from her marked desk. 

 “Raz! We didn’t kill you!” She rushed over, instantly pulling the younger into a tight hug. 

 “C-Can’t...breath…”

 “Oh, sorry.”

 “Good to see you up and going again.” said Adam, patting Raz’s shoulder as he was released.

 “Thanks...I wasn’t expecting to see you all in here.”

 “We’re on house arrest...sort of intern arrest?” Morris hummed softly. 

 Gisu rolled her eyes. “What Morris is trying to say is that Hollis gave us a pretty heavy punishment. Not like we don’t deserve it, mind you.”

 “No kidding,” Lizzie added, “Seriously, nothing freaked me out more than seeing you...go under. Are you okay?”

 Raz shrugged. “I mean, I’m still here. But I’m still on bed duty for a while. Where’s...um, where’s Norma?”

 “Out on the balcony. Brooding.” 

 “...Is she still upset?”

 “At you? No. She’s being hard on herself, as usual.” 

 “Sorry to break this up, but we should be getting back to work. I don’t want to be under house arrest any longer than I need to.” Morris was the first one to pull away. With the rest following to get back to their desks. 

 Raz passed by them and out onto the balcony. Where he found Norma, as Lizzie said he would. The small table nearby was covered with numerous scribbled papers, a half finished cup of tea holding down a small pile of them. The intern herself was staring off into the sunset. 

 “Uh, hi Norma.” Raz said weakly. 

 She casually looked over before returning her attention towards the horizon. “Good to see you’re alive.” 

 “Uh, yeah, sure am. Just...wanted to come out and say hi.” 

 “Well, you’ve done it. So...bravo for you.”

 Raz’s shoulders fell in defeat. “Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

 “Raz, wait.” Norma gave a heavy sigh before facing the younger again. “Look, I’m… I am sorry. I still don’t think you’re cured.”

 “But-”

 “I know, I saw what happened. But curses don’t exist, so I’m not fully sure what happened. However, that’s not the point of this. What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for pushing you so far.” 

 “...You just wanted to see what would happen.”

 “That’s not an excuse. You were clearly distressed and you almost died. I don’t know what’s going on. But that shouldn’t cause you to almost lose your life. I need to think about my actions and the outcome for those.” 

 With that, Norma faced the sky once more and said nothing. Raz took that as the conversation was over and that he needed to leave. So, he did. Walking back into the living quarters and greeted more warmly by the other interns. Laying down on his marked bed, he felt a comforting pulse come from Sasha and Milla. For now, it was fine. Raz just wondered how long that would last with this group. 

[theminionjcfucked]

BB23 FINALE SPECIAL EDITION! HAPPY FINALE DAY!

The BB23 Houseguests As Memorable Death Scenes from TV Shows/Movies:

Alyssa: The Titanic- Rose: honestly she knew that man for what? three days. And she was ready to marry him. And then she let his ass freeze to death. And it took her 84 years to see him again.

Azah: Spy Kids 3: Game Over- Demetra: Like damn if you didn’t love Demetra just to be pissed off that she was a virus and had to stay in the game as it was being destroyed and couldn’t even be with Junie like damn she was such a conflicting person but they didn’t have to do us that way 😭

Brent: John Tucker Must Die- John Tucker: this is more of a character assassination than an actual assassination but strong, fed up women coming together to humiliate and exact revenge on a POS man. Iconic.

Britini: The Maze Runner- Chuck’s death: Like yeah was he annoying at times and all over the place. Of course. But damn it hurt when he died. Like shit I didn’t think I was gonna miss Chuck but there I was crying that they killed him 😔😔

Christian: Scream- Stu: Honestly the way Stu shot himself and then cried like a bitch was very reminiscent of how Christian threw a fit the moment he knew his game was over.

Claire: The Walking Dead- 4x14 “Prey”: When Carol has to kill Lizzy because Lizzy had become a threat. The parallels I felt from watching Tiffany send Claire out OOF. JUST LOOK AT THE FLOWERS CLAIRE! LOOK AT THE FLOWERS!! 😭😭

Derek F: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2- Bellatrix Lestrange: it’s the fact that Bellatrix was called a bitch and then killed by a scornful woman. That’s exactly how DF’s BB deserves to end. NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!

Derek X: Marley & Me- …we knew it was coming…but it was so hard to watch 🥺

Frenchie: Game of Thrones- 4x02 “Purple Wedding”: When King Joffrey finally kicks the bucket like damn took y’all long enough never thought we’d ever get rid his ass (like I realize it was only two weeks but Frenchie felt like a goddamn life time)

Hannah: Avengers: Infinity War- Peter Parker: The devastation I felt. The fear in her eyes. She was just like Peter. He knew he was dying and he couldn’t stop it. MR STARK I DONT FEEL SO GOOD 😭

Kyland: The Lion King- Scar: His reign of terror comes to end and he gets thrown to the hyenas. Poetic really.

Sarah Beth: The Wizard of Oz- The Wicked Witch melting after Dorothy douses her in water. She’s melting! WHAT A WORLD WHAT A WORLD!

Travis: Spongebob Squarepants- 2x06 “Bubble Buddy”: that one fish they died because Bubble Buddy let him drown by high tide.

Tiffany: Avengers: Endgame- Tony Stark: I’m not even gonna explain why this is Tiffany YALL GET IT RIGHT?? LIKE THAT SHIT HURTED SO BAD 🥺

Whitney: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith- Padme: no because by the time she died she was annoying and I didn’t care. “Luke you’re breaking my heart 🥺🥺” stfu already jesus.

Xavier: Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part 2- Voldemort: It’s literally just because they are both bald headed assholes. Avada Kedavra bitch!

[smaidjor]

i know they're losing (chapter 2)

Hello everyone! Since the last chapter received such a positive response (well, if screaming could be called a positive response), I've decided to not make you all wait long for the second chapter of this fic. Also, I have no self-control. Anyways!

Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.

Chapter Title: over snow and winter's morn

Chapter Wordcount: 3203

Content warnings: more discussion of death, also quite a bit of Scott being a bit of a dick. He's going through it, besties.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Actual fic under the cut:

Jimmy doesn’t get a chance to return the ring any time in the next few weeks. Scott must have told Katherine that he visited, since she doesn’t come to bother him about it, and every time Jimmy tries to go to Rivendell, something gets in the way. Demon attacks, urgent business in his empire, once even Scott’s own guards turning him away. Apparently Scott is a ‘busy elf’. Jimmy doesn’t doubt he is, but he also doesn’t doubt that Scott’s actively trying to avoid him. Scott is a petty man, ultimately, and Jimmy knows this, used to love it like he loved all his husband’s flaws, all his imperfections that were perfect to Jimmy. Now, though, it just hurts that Scott’s turning that pettiness on him.

Finally, something changes. Jimmy gets an invitation (in person!) from one of his closest allies; Lizzie wants to hold a ball, and she wants as many people as possible to come. It will be fancy and formal, with dancing and politics and all the things Jimmy’s just a bit awkward with, but he is an extrovert at heart, and well...Scott will be there, as Lizzie warns him.

“I know you and him don’t really get on, so I get if you don’t want to come. I really hope you will, though, it’s going to be a fun night!”

Jimmy nods. “I’ll be there! I need to talk to Scott anyways, actually, got to return this ring to him. It’s important, I think.”

“Gotcha! See you there,” Lizzie says with a broad smile. Jimmy appreciates that she doesn’t ask any questions about the ring, especially given that it’s the one thing holding together his emotional state right now.

And that’s how he finds himself frantically searching for something fancy enough to wear to a formal ball, wishing he’d had the forethought to plan for this a bit better. Scott would have planned, he thinks, would have had an outfit laid out for each of them and the time it would take them to get there exactly calculated.

He shakes that thought off, settling for a green tunic with copper accents. It’s not the most elegant thing in the world, especially when you take into account the slime that’s dripped onto it, but it’ll have to do. It’s representative of his empire for sure, and the copper is a nod to his ally. It’s good enough, and that’s what matters, Jimmy thinks.

Lizzie greets him when he enters the ballroom, smiling widely with her new fiance by her side. “Jimmy! Glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I did make it! Here I am!” The smile he gives her is genuine; he likes Lizzie. She's fierce and kind all at once, the best kind of ally.

Joel offers him a brief wave, which Jimmy happily returns before Lizzie drags him off to chat.

“So, heard from a little birdy you’ve actually been visiting Scott,” Lizzie says, a grin like the cat that got the bird on her face.

“As a favor to Katherine,” Jimmy quickly clarifies.

She nods. “She did say that, yes. She also said she heard about the visit from Scott himself.”

Jimmy hates himself a little for being pathetic enough to ask “What did- did she say what he said? Was he talking about me?”

“She didn’t say exactly, but he seemed ‘shaken up’, apparently...and a little wistful.”

“Oh, no. Lizzie, no.”

“Say, why did you have his ring?” She’s still grinning, a little more evil this time.

“It’s a long story!” Jimmy blurts, and flees. How’s he supposed to say ‘oh we were married on a server where we thought we were going to permanently die and then we respawned here and now Scott’s refusing to talk to me because the grief over my last death is slowly killing him’ tactfully? There’s just no way to do it! Nice one, Jimmy, now she thinks you’re in love with him or something, he thinks ruefully. Not that he isn’t- wasn’t. Wasn’t. Scott’s made it very clear that he and Jimmy are through.

Still, even with his depressing thoughts, the ball is pretty okay. No one’s gotten assassinated, there haven’t been any demonic appearances, Lizzie’s already showing off her engagement ring, and he’s pretty sure Joey’s going off about how hot demons are. It’s a decent party, by empires standards.

Scott makes an appearance some twenty minutes or so later, stepping into the ballroom with typical elven grace. He’s not a very elven elf, as he once told Jimmy, short and sarcastic with a love for mortals, but he still looks twice as elegant as everyone else in the ballroom. The shakiness in his step from a few weeks ago seems entirely gone, and for a minute, Jimmy’s heart leaps in hope. Maybe he’s getting better?

Well, only one way to find out. Jimmy swallows the complicated knot of emotion in his chest as he crosses the ballroom, coming to an ungraceful stop in front of Scott. Up close, the elf looks worryingly pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like a strong breeze might sweep him away.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy returns, dipping his head a little. Look, Scott, he can be formal too, alright? “Care for a dance?”

Scott stares for a long moment before giving a single nod. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind.” He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Now, Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and he’s not too proud to admit it. He steps on Scott’s feet, gets off-rhythm once or twice, and nearly crashes them straight into Lizzie and Joel. But despite their current status as enemies(ex-spouses?), Scott says nothing about it. He’s silent, in fact, seemingly caught up in the music. There’s something wistful about his expression, something soft and gentle hidden under his icy facade. If Jimmy tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that the two of them are back in 3rd life, dancing under the stars, and Scott is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

The illusion is shattered, however, by how heavily Scott is leaning on him by the end of the dance. He’s unsteady on his feet, grip like iron on Jimmy’s hand and shoulder. Though Jimmy can’t feel his hands though the gloves, when he brushes against Scott’s arm, it’s still a little too cold to be entirely right.

The music slows and then pauses before the next song, and they head for the edge of the dance floor.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He steps away, face falling back into the emotionless facade so quickly it’s hard to be sure the tender expression of a moment before wasn’t a dream.

That’s the final straw for Jimmy’s fragile self-control. “Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?”

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

“Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I’m still in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says, a little softer, a little bitter. “I know, trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

“Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf!” They’ve kept their voices low enough, but people nearby are still starting to stare at them. Jimmy can’t bring himself to care. “You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

Scott’s expression is pained for a moment before he covers it with a glare. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

“I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.”

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy protests. “I want you.”

“You can’t have me.”

“But why? Why, Scott?” His voice breaks, embarrassingly enough. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.”

“I can’t give you that!” Scott snaps. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.”

“Enough for me? For ME? All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existance once in a while!”

“And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?” Scott counters.

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

In the silence that follows, he realizes that most of the ballroom must have heard the end of their little lovers’ quarrel. In fact, Lizzie’s somehow appeared next to him, laying a hand on his arm.

“Is everything alright, boys?” Her tight smile says that they will most certainly get kicked out of the ball if they continue this, and Jimmy can’t blame her.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” Scott says, switching to a formal tone with ease that Jimmy envies. He dips his head in respect, and only Jimmy sees how his hands tremble. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.”

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and sweeps away.

“Coward!” Jimmy shouts after him, anger making him bold. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

“Stop it,” Lizzie scolds. “You’ve already made quite the scene, and I did essentially kick him out. I’m not sure how much further you really want to carry it.”

“He is though, Lizzie, he’s a coward! Doesn’t want to face me because that means facing- well, facing everything that’s happened!”

“What do you mean, everything that’s happened?” Lizzie turns to the gathered audience of people who have been watching the spat, shooing them off as best as possible. They slowly disperse, thank goodness. “You and he are enemies, right?”

Jimmy almost winces. “It’s a bit- it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“I can see that. Jimmy, that looked like a messy breakup!”

“It, um, well, it was. Sort of.”

“Oh, Jimmy.” Lizzie’s giving him a sympathetic look, which she follows up with a tight hug. “Next time, how about we don’t invite him?”

He nods against her shoulder, rage leaving him as quickly as it came. Instead, he just feels...tired. “Thanks, Lizzie.”

“Of course. We look after each other, yeah?’

“Yeah.”

Jimmy leaves the ball exhausted, still reeling from everything that happened. The few lingering bits of anger are what gets him home, a bitter taste in his mouth from the bitter words he spat. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott! He refuses to regret them.

Scott’s ring nearly ends up in the swamp again, but Jimmy’s cooled down enough by the time he gets back that he can’t bear to throw it away. Instead, it goes in a box which he tucks into his old storage chest, somewhere he’ll never have to see it again. Scott can go to hell if he wants the ring back after all that.

-

For a while, Jimmy’s plan to tuck the ring and never think about Scott again seems to be working. Lizzie visits a few times to check on him, but she never asks specifically about Scott, and Jimmy doesn’t say anything about him. He receives radio silence from Rivendell, and he tells himself that it’s good, that he doesn’t want to hear from Scott.

So yes, his plan is working, up until he gets a knock on his door and opens it to find Scott there.

The elf looks terrible, frankly, almost worse than he did at the ball. His hair, which is usually so nicely done, is a mess, cyan strands falling all across his face. His clothes are wrinkled and have swamp mud on them, his eyes have dark circles as violent as bruises, and he’s swaying a tiny bit. In short, he looks like he didn’t sleep for a week, chugged coffee, and fought god in a denny’s parking lot.

Jimmy thinks he’s kinda hot.

No, he doesn’t. Fake news, brain.

“Hi,” Scott says.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy’s voice rises, in shock or outrage even he doesn’t know.

“I came to apologize.” Though he looks like he’s going to pass out at any second, Scott’s voice is steady. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps, but there’s little real rage behind it.

“I know. I- uh- fuck.” Scott’s hands are shaking as he pulls out a little box from some hidden pocket. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy takes it, curious despite himself, and finds that what’s inside is a silver bracelet with little crystals embedded in it. Flowers are the predominant design; he recognizes roses, hyacinths, irises, anemone, and poppies. On the underside, there’s elven lettering, though Jimmy has no clue what it says. The whole thing is a little clumsy, not quite as professionally made as the ring Scott once gave him, and Jimmy looks up at Scott. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.”

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says.

Scott’s shoulders slump with relief. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts again, a tremble in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.”

“Is it that- that dire?”

The barest nod. “This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, Jimmy staring down at the bracelet.

Scott breaks it. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am yours still, if you’ll have me.”

A part of Jimmy is very tempted to throw both Scott’s gift and his love back in his face. He can’t bring himself to stay mad, though, not when Scott’s looking at him like that, with so much raw vulnerability. So much devotion, like Jimmy’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It would be so, so easy to break that last strand of fragile hope in his expression; he’s offering up his heart on a silver platter, ready to shatter. Jimmy could- should- yell at him, reject his gift, tell him that he’s ruined any chance he has at Jimmy’s love.

Jimmy kisses him instead. It’s messy and it’s sudden and he very nearly drops Scott’s gift in the swamp in his haste to tangle his hands in Scott’s hair and press their lips together, but it’s real.

The little startled noise Scott makes gets cut off by Jimmy’s mouth on his. Scott’s lips are chapped and taste a little of glowberries, but Jimmy doesn’t care. He’s going to kiss his damn husband, something he thought he was never going to get to do again.

When they finally have to separate, Scott’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed. It’s a good look on him, Jimmy thinks, much more alive than his pale, rigid expression from before.

“So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?” Scott’s voice is wry, collected, but his blush ruins the smooth effect.

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

“Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again, just to shut him up. Scott goes with it easily, leaning into Jimmy’s embrace without complaint.

They pull apart quicker this time, and Jimmy holds the bracelet out. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott nods. His hands are cold against the skin of Jimmy’s wrist when he fastens the clasp, but Jimmy grabs them and holds them in his own warm ones until they don’t feel quite so much like ice. It’s something. It’s a beginning.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he doesn’t let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk about a lot of things. Empires, 3rd life, nightmares. Pufferfish, cake, flowers. They talk about the trials and tribulations of ruling; really, Jimmy complains that people keep attacking him and Scott nods in sympathy.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please,” he adds, feeling his face flush at how desperate he sounds.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep.”

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

“No, no.” Scott kneels back down, peering at him like Jimmy’s a puzzle that needs solving. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Jimmy.”

“I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts, and immediately flushes again. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

“Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me,” he manages. “It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!”

Scott’s frowning, worry wrinkling his brow. “Alright. How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.”

Jimmy nods, feeling especially pitiful as Scott helps him to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Always. Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just….give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Scott doesn’t elaborate, and Jimmy is too distracted looking for the ring to ask what he means.

Scott’s offer of protection feels flimsier when he has to lean on Jimmy as they travel back to Rivendell, but even then, it’s impossible to feel quite so afraid now that Jimmy isn’t alone anymore. And it’s even harder to fear anything that could happen when he’s safe in a warm bed, his head tucked against his husband’s chest. They’ll be okay, Jimmy thinks. They’ve been given another chance, and this time they’re going to get it right.