#martha in the end is too kind to ten and ten keeps making her watch his meandering path of self destruction. toxic doomed qprism to ME. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chromosome23hq · 2 years

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MAY 2, 1998. SYRACRUSE, NEW YORK.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: through ezra shaw’s (@smitebound) guidance, martha seong (@marthaseong) and finley walsh (@finlcyxwalsh) are sent to end the life of congressman christopher masten because he accepted funding from anti-mutant lobbyists, as well as took an anti-mutant stance. they must kill him before he reaches a luncheon where he will announce his idea for people identifying themselves as mutants or non-mutants when they enter establishments. (click here for the google doc version!)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, violence, car crash

the ride has been mostly quiet, the only sound finley walsh's able to process being the blood pumping in her ears. of all the people to get put with on this mission, martha is probably the least ideal, but at least she's not mark. she has yet to find a reason, or lack there of, to distrust her, and that counts for something. all she can do is hope that her tip landed, and christopher masten was well on his way out of the hotel. until then, all she could do was try and keep her head empty, and spin the little ring on her finger around to keep the anxiety at bay.

when she told daichi she preferred assassinations, it wasn’t a request to be put on a mission to carry one out. and with a neophyte, no less! this was exactly the kind of babysitting she declined to do. with a huff, and a foot pressing heavier on the gas pedal, she decides she was going to have some words with him, after all of this was done — after she kills poor masten and serves up his head on a platter. remembering her companion, martha seong turns her head to the side, eyes off the road and onto her new partner-in-crime. “this isn’t your first time, is it?” she asks, with a playful grin and her sing-song voice, referring to murder. oh, she hoped this one wouldn’t be trouble! she can’t handle someone screaming and crying and making too much of a mess.

it's martha's voice that breaks finley's trance. she almost prefers the silence, but what ground does he have to make requests? none, actually, she can answer that question for herself. she has to wonder if she can maintain her acting skills with stakes this high, but if there was ever a time to play the most convincing version of the evil side of her soul, today was the day. her first time at an assassination attempt? yes. and, hopefully the last. "technically, yes." she had watched ezra and sela torment at least one person in her few weeks in the brotherhood, but she had never bloodied her own hands. not that she would start today. "you?"

martha gives her a softer smile, pretending to feel sympathetic. well, fuck, she thinks. masten isn’t just some guy they’re accosting in an alley behind nyx. he’ll have people, security — an entourage of no less than ten. and they’re putting this mission on her and a girl who was never killed before? what were they expecting from martha? was this a test? a punishment? it’s not like she was gone for that long! three months — that’s barely a vacation. “no,” was her straight answer. she doesn’t care to elaborate. maybe they can have a sleepover and martha can list all the people she’s killed and felt die. maybe. “it’s terrifying, at first—” martha feels safe to assume finley wasn’t like ezra or mark, that she isn’t bloodhungry “—it’s worse when they beg. and they always do. even the worst of people cower in the face of death. it’s a bit funny, actually! you know, after you get over the whole killing a person thing. but, you can’t hesitate.” the car takes a sharp turn left, as the miles between them and masten diminish. “i mean, it’s fine, we don’t keep report cards,” she frowns, “i think. not betty, at least—mark is a bit obsessive. he likes to evaluate people. i wish he’d evaluate me,” she remarks, offhandedly, looking back at the road. “but, you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?” she asks, quirking a brow as she glances back at her.

she doesn’t know martha from adam. and, after mark, she’s learned not to trust the kindness any of them extend. she can make conversation, but she needs to hold her cards close to her chest. still, she won’t lie, and make herself out to be interested in playing out a live action version of the most dangerous game with non-mutants. she has no interest in killing, and she’s never done it. it was obvious enough to look at her and know that without hesitation. she didn’t need to try and convince anyone otherwise. “he’s picky, he’d probably have a few opinions,” finley mutters. she’s not his biggest fan, and he’s certainly not hers. thank god they’re not on this mission together. “of course,” finley responds without hesitation, “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.” if nothing else, lying was a skill she was going to pick up from all of this.

“so you’ve met.” the grin returns on her face, bubbling with genuine amusement at the thought. her answer was enough to satisfy martha — but then again, martha wasn’t one to really care. good, she thinks. when you had a rhyme and reason, it was easier not to walk away with guilt and regret. and the girl had some resolve. it’s apparent she was nervous, but her voice did not quake nor waver. martha takes that as a good sign! and an excuse not to tap into her mind and anticipate her actions. that would be too exhausting — she never knows what she gets subjected to. brotherhood members aren’t exactly known for having neutral, consumable thoughts. always, there was something crazy to behold. “hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.” she thinks. maybe. who knows! if it comes to it, martha will have to calm her down. another sharp turn and they find themselves in town. the hotel was already visible from where they are, peeking through the block of buildings they still had to drive through. “they will start with welcoming drinks in half an hour. do you want to stop by anywhere first?” she turns back to finley, inspecting her — making sure she looks the part of a political science intern interested in politics from a very young age. “or are you good to go?”

for all the money xavier has invested in the school, she figures some of it should have gone to a better communication system for this whole thing. she doesn't know what's landed, and she doesn't even know if someone knows where they are for a fact. but, with the offer to go off the beaten path that they're expected to follow, finley can't take the risk. "good advice," she says with a slow nod, acting like she's absorbing this for all that it's worth. and, as much as she wants to tell martha to stop somewhere so she can empty the contents of her stomach, cold blooded murders don't get their stomach in a twist before an assassination. "no, i'm good to go." she smooths out the blazer she's been put in as gently as she can behind the seatbelt across her chest. of course they use her to look prim and proper, at least she's of use in some regards for them.

martha waits for another beat, just in case finley changes her mind. she wouldn’t be patient with anyone else, not any of veterans, certainly, but — these are the kind of moments you don’t forget. it’ll carve itself in your mind forever. it’ll chase you — for days, weeks, months, or years — even in your sleep. martha would know, it did the same to her. it might be for the cause. masten might be an inglorious fucking bastard. but it was a weight on your conscience. a mark on your soul. if you had one left, that is. so, she waits. while she liked to fuck around, martha knows these people — the brotherhood — are here for a reason. and that reason wasn’t because they wanted to be. most of the time, it was because they had to. with seemingly no one else to protect them, it feels like the only choice. martha believes it was the only choice. “alright,” she finally says, “here we go! your first assassination. how fun! maybe we can get some ice cream after. as a reward.” the seconds passes in silence, as the hotel grows larger and larger before them. the mirth on her face is slowly replaced with practiced seriousness. a mask crafted for the benefit of the mission. she pulls the fake prescription glasses from the dashboard and places them on. turning to finley, she asks, “how do i look?” as the car enters the driveway, gradually pulling over the entrance.

finley didn’t really know what was coming when they crossed over the hill. maybe she should have said yes to stopping if only to give matsen more time to bail. but, too little too late now. truth be told, she wasn’t too thrilled on the idea of saving someone who thought so lowly of people, but what good would killing him do? all it did was lead to more chaos and more hatred. something dramatic would have to happen in order for the brotherhood to ever win just by picking people off one by one. of course, none of this could be said out loud, and one could only hope she wasn’t projecting these thoughts straight into martha’s brain. with a tense smile and nod, finley acknowledges her excitement of the accolade, the offer of ice cream making this whole thing feel so… benign. finley glances martha’s direction, newly adorned glasses perched on her nose. “very smart. science-y,” finley offered. she glances up at the entrance of the hotel in all its grandiose glory. “are we ready?” whether the question was for her or the both of them was anyones guess.

martha only answers with a smile. ready or not, they are here. the curtain has lifted, the spotlight has been cast. there’s no turning back. and she hopes finley understands that. “it’s showtime, baby.” the engine grunts to a halt, as she pulls the key from the ignition and opens the door. a valet helps her out, exchanging pleasantries with her before he takes the key. martha doesn’t look back or wait for finley to follow. she saunters inside the hotel lobby, poised and graceful, determined to do a job and to do it well.

but once she’s inside, she feels something off. a well-dressed man, and a gaggle of staffers, walks past her, heading out of the hotel. odd — that’s a consultant, a lobbyist. why is he leaving? she didn’t look back, instead continues on, as if she thinks nothing was out of order. her mind opens and a chorus of voices crescendos. she sifts through each thought, all the while continuing to walk towards the venue, taking answers instead of asking for them. cancelled… left… emergency… son.

masten is gone.

her jaw tightens. someone must have tipped him off. this was an important luncheon. potentially a million in donations to his campaign. he won’t have just left. his son would have to be on his last breath. martha wants to turn around, alert finley of the fact. but then…

finley. finley, finley, finley. it’s the anxiety that courses through her. martha would have dismissed it as normal — she was out here to kill someone for the first time. but her thoughts. god! are they loud. charles fucking xavier should have at least trained these idiots to mask better!

martha doesn't let it show on her face. that she knows. and everything she’s about to do to her. instead, she walks on, mind searching for a blindspot. “we need to check our exits,” she lies — in a way finley wouldn’t be able to doubt. she turns towards an empty hallway, walking with purpose, fists clenched. when they reach the end, martha turns, the mirthful grin returning to greet finley. “you fucking bitch,” she hisses, as her mind grapples finley’s. like vines stretched around her brain, effectively taking control. she makes her feel pain, like each nerve below her waist is being stretched and strained, until finley can no longer stand. “you tipped him off. you tipped masten off.” now they’re going to have to find him! a deviation in a perfectly good plan! sure, she likes spontaneity. but not with jobs she didn’t enjoy doing! “roll up your sleeves, darling. cause i’m about to put you to work.”

finley checks the clock on the dashboard before the engine is killed. masten should be leaving any second if the tip landed. now or never. she climbs out of the passenger seat, falling a few paces behind martha as they enter the hotel, bustling with people left and right. but, as quickly as they enter, a stream of people exit, and finley feels like a weight is lifted from her shoulders. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s masten’s team. black suits swiftly exiting the building before anyone can say a word on the matter. they’re in the clear. she just has to make it back to headquarters, deal with whatever consequence they’ll get for letting him slip by, and bail out of there before anyone can catch wind of who she is or what she’s done. maybe, just maybe, it would all be fine!

martha summons her to do an exit check— it feels odd seeing as they haven’t even done any sort of scan of the crowd yet, but finley knows it’s not her place to ask questions. especially as she tries to lean into her ignorance and nerves. just follow the leader, and make it out alive, she tells herself.

they tread down a long hallway, martha’s pace obnoxiously quick for someone who wants to check their get away route— whether they’ll need it or not. and, as finley opens her mouth to mention they had passed the stairwell already, martha whips around to face her with a look that makes finley’s blood run cold. and then there’s the pain. it coils around her, white hot heat shooting through her limbs. she can’t even scream from the intensity of the pain, collapsing onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud as she curls in on herself to no avail. the pain is rooted in whatever martha is doing to her, and it will not let up.

“i— i didn’t,” finley forces out voice tight as she tries her best to writhe in pain, but her body no longer feels like her own. she reaches for her powers somewhere in her mind, something to defend herself with and get martha off of her, but she just can’t. she can’t move, and it’s somehow more terrifying than any other aspect. being completely out of control of her own body.

“martha, please,” finley begs. whether it’s a last ditch effort to swear her false allegiance or to spare her from whatever comes next is beyond finley’s comprehension. she can only think about the searing pain keeping her pinned to the carpet floor of the hotel.

martha only laughs at her pleas. the sound of it was humorless — almost pained. a part of her, buried deep in her subconscious, doesn’t want to do this. but what else can she do? she can’t abandon the mission. and she can’t let a traitor — a xavier spy — off the hook. if you get red on your ledger, you pay for it. she looks down on finley, watching her writhe in pain. “please? okay. since you’re asking so nicely.” but when the pain stops, finley will find that all her sensations would, too. she’s only along for the ride, with martha on the wheel. “get up,” martha instructs. but finley can’t. “what’s wrong? get up.” and when finley still can’t move, martha sighs. “alright, alright. i’ll help you.” it’s only then that finley stands, completely out of her own volition. she doesn’t need a demonstration. by now, finley understands what was happening. but martha still wants to show her. she presses her own hands together and, like a mirror, finley does the same. “alright, time to show me what you can do, missy! let’s find masten. and, as a little prize for being a smart little cunt, you get to kill him.” martha’s grin is almost diabolical, eyes wide with what looked like glee. but only anger burns hot beneath the surface. she finds no joy in this. she wishes finley just stuck to the script.

it’s obvious to finley that her cover is blown at this point. she knows everything, and it’s all her own undoing. and now she’s stuck here, the fibers of the carpet rubbing unforgivingly through the fabric of her pants as she is completely at martha’s mercy. the pain begins to subside some, the dull ache of her body coming down from the shooting pain still there for a moment before everything goes blank. there is no white hot pain, there is no ache, and there is no feeling. it’s as if someone had turned of everything in her body other than the course of her own thoughts. she feels paralyzed. martha taunts her, telling her to get up, stand up and no matter how much finley wills her body to move she stays on the floor unmoving and out of control of her body. and then martha speaks and her body springs into action like some remote controlled robot, standing with ease, like nothing had happened. she does not have to control for the fear to shake her body, but she can feel the terror washing over her in waves as martha speaks. “no,” finley croaks, unable to shake her head, “no i don’t— i can’t.”

but whatever link martha had bonded them together with worked, at least at her will, both ways. all finley needs is a location. that’s all she’s ever needed to successfully get from point a to point b. and martha does not hesitate to provide her with that. it hasn’t been that long, they haven’t made it all that far from the hotel, and she wishes there was anything she could do to give them more time. but she can see masten in her mind, and under martha’s influence, the gap begins to close. before she knows it, they’re standing in the middle of some backroad, the darkened hallway replaced by afternoon sun streaming through tree leaves. and the rush of an oncoming car can be heard not too far up the road, a short line of black vehicles rounding the blind corner behind which martha and finley stand. martha doesn’t move, and so neither can finley. the ever familiar sound of squealing tires and crunching metal hit finley like a freight train. if she could collapse, she would have right then in there, as unwanted memories float through her mind. she can’t tell if it’s her or martha making those happen.

there’s a lack of movement from most of the vehicles. the impact must have been enough to, at best, knock a few members of the convoy out. at worst… well, the blood on finley’s hands wouldn’t just be masten’s. “haven’t we done enough? we’ve scared him, i’m sure. why do we— why do i have to kill him? don’t make me do this, i can’t do this.” she doesn’t care how pathetic the begging sounds, her voice straining through every word to reach some sort of pathos within martha. she knows it won’t work deep down, that it’s all just prolonging the inevitable if she’s lucky. but, she has to try anything to prevent this.

martha almost wavers — almost. finley’s memories, flashes of an accident martha wasn’t even there for, burns crisp and sharp inside her mind. she’s so intricately linked to finley that she sees everything finley sees, feels everything finley feels. as if it were her memories, her emotions. she almost wavers.

but martha’s own words echo inside her head. you can’t hesitate

you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?

hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.

stop them, she instructs, before any of masten’s security detail could weakly draw out their guns and point it at the pair. knock them unconscious — a job better done by her. but finley was fighting. she can’t risk losing her grip on finley’s mind, even by a small amount. walk. their steps sync together, left foot first and then the right. they walk side by side, passing the first car, and move on to the second. right where masten was.

four people. two in the front — unconscious. masten and his chief of staff in the back — barely conscious. she steps back and finley forward. open the door. pull him out.

once he was on the pavement, masten coughs and sputters. the deep gash on his head bleeds, the red trickling down his face. words — pleas to spare his life — leaves his mouth in unintelligible mumbles. martha doesn’t listen, although she understands everything running through his mind, clear as the sky above them. she sees every memory flashing inside his head, as the realization that he would be breathing his last breath slowly sinks in.

mercy. for a moment, she thinks she should spare him some. spare finley some, too. but, no. they need to learn a lesson.

“kill him. now.”

there is nothing more horrifying to her than being out control of her own body. every instinct in her is screaming to stop— this is wrong, they have families and children. they’re people for god’s sake. just like her. and here she is being forced to fling them aside, discarded without so much as a wave of her hand. it makes her stomach churn.

all finley needs is for someone to show up. any of the omegas. just someone to get her out of the mess she had gotten herself in to. but with every step they took, and every command that martha forced on her, finley’s hope dwindled.

against her own volition, she pulls masten from the car, still dazed from the accident. blood stains the side of his face seeping into the collar of his shirt as finley drops him onto the roadway despite herself. she knows what’s coming. martha has every intention to complete their mission whether finley’s a willing participant or not. and, she is not.

that doesn’t stop the begging even as her body betrays her and moves forward on martha’s command. some part of her body burns, the now familiar crackle of electricity at her fingertips, but it’s more violent than usual. as if her abilities are, too, rejecting the action she’s being forced to take.

it’s the agonized scream that truly makes finley’s mind shut down. it’s as if everything is underwater. she feels like she’s floating just as much as she is drowning, and then there’s organs, human organs, splayed across the pavement and the screaming has stopped but it doesn’t make anything better.

she’s seen a dead body before. this early on, they just seem to be asleep, but in a few minutes, he’ll get cold and pale, and it’ll be an agonizing way for his family to see him, chest torn, organs dislodged from their homes all because of finley

a part of her wants to scream, but she can’t even find air to breathe, let alone her voice. all she can do is stare and hyperventilate in hopes that maybe she’ll pass out, and be spared by any further torture that martha wishes to give her.

he had opted to be with masten, to have the other man by his side so that he could personally protect him. but the other didn't trust han-byul song, he just shook his head and said that his own personal guards will protect him, that han-byul should just focus on capturing the assassins. of course, how splendid.

he's in his own car, watching from afar, waiting for someone to come out, to at least see finley in one piece. and while he does see her, alongside the other brotherhood member, how they came to be and the situation itself all catches him off guard. his hands tighten around the wheel, the soda can in his car rattles in the cup holder before being completely crushed by his own ability. this isn't right, he thinks to himself, this doesn't feel right. something is wrong. and he's right, something is wrong, he just doesn't know that martha knows of finley as a spy and is currently controlling her. all he sees is martha standing beside finley who is getting ready to pull masten out of his car. at the same time, han-byul is getting out of his own car, not even worrying about closing the door on his way out.

he doesn't shout, he doesn't tell them to stop, he doesn't even call finley's name. he knows that he's supposed to, he's been trained to negotiate, but you cannot negotiate with murderers like the brotherhood. each step brings a trembling to the space around them, the top of trash cans getting dented, light posts that shook and bend inwards, buildings that rattle with the force. and with each step and movement from finley with masten causes the trembles to intensify.

but it's her next course of actions that sends han-byul punching the air. he doesn't expect finley of all people to do this, she's on their side, she gave charles xavier this information, and yet-- "stop!" he shouts, a bit late but it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, as the words are flying out of his mouth and his fist punches downwards. the trembling and rattling stops around him only focusing on the area around finley and martha. it's a crack in the air, the pressure, the gravity that forces them both down to their knees, invisible chains to keep them in place. it doesn't stop there as han-byul controls the gravity around himself, reducing the pull of gravity in order to sprint towards the duo, faster than ever and his fist pulled back and aimed towards martha. and as soon as he's done with her, he'll go after finley.

“fuck!” martha yelps, as her knees scrape against the concrete. her limbs feel heavy, pulled to the ground by an insurmountable force. she tries to reach for finley — the connection between them was severed, swiftly and suddenly — but she can’t move. when she attempts it, it feels like her skin is being torn apart.

she needs to refocus — not on finley. but on their unwanted guest. with her mind free, it stretches open once again. going further and further out until it found him — han-byul song. an omega.

of course. xavier was working with them. she saw him at the ball, saw the little dramatic play they executed towards the end. it was a warning — a warning the brotherhood only took as a challenge. martha should’ve known, should’ve anticipated this.

it comes in waves — the pain that travels from the tip of han-byul’s toes and shoots up his entire body. like every nerve is frayed; stretched and strained to its limit. she doesn’t know how strong han-byul is but martha doesn’t want to risk anything. she amplies the pain — a few times worse than what finley had felt. just to ensure he can’t meddle, as martha and finley make their escape.

once the force around them eases, martha quickly takes hold of finley’s mind. not waiting or wavering this time. they need to be gone, before the omega can do anything else. or, before the rest can appear.

take us back to the headquarters. she planted the image of their destination inside finley’s mind, and willed her to do the rest.

she never thought she would feel relieved to come back to the brotherhood’s headquarters. her breath hitched, her heartbeat quickened. all the adrenaline had worn out, replaced by a psychological hangover. for a moment she forgot finley, until she noticed the other in her periphery.

martha grabbed her by the shoulder and calmed her down. she manipulated finley’s emotions, until the distress fell to the back of her mind, until her breath evened out, until her eyes were empty. it made it easier for the next part — putting her to sleep. slowly, finley’s limbs gave out, as unconsciousness visited her. martha had to catch her, before her body could fall to the ground.

it's a moment of relief to hear someone else's voice, even if she looks extremely incriminated right now. her eyes are still trained downwards even as they approach. but, she knows it's probably one of the omegas. all her suspicions are confirmed when the world shakes, and they're dropped to their knees, the gravity in the air heavy. han-byul song— makes sense. but, she can't even bother to agonize over the weight of the world, because martha's out of her brain. her thoughts can be their own once again, and any consequence is worth it to keep it that way.

of course, that relief is gone within moments, martha stopping han-byul in his tracks, and as quickly as she was gone, she's dug her fingers back into finley, taking over her mind, and subsequently, her abilities once more. headquarters. she's as good as dead once they get back there, and she'll be offering herself up like a lamb to the slaughter. and, with how incriminating this looks, there's no promise anyone would be stupid enough to try and come to her rescue again.

she wants to make eye contact with han-byul, and plead with him, explain this wasn't her doing— she was no better than a puppet on a string at this point. but, she knows it's a matter of seconds before they're gone, and she's sealed to her fate.

the side street is gone, and in a flash, they're standing in the brotherhood headquarters. it's still relatively quiet as people filter in from their own missions, but she can still feel panic gripping her chest.

martha, still very much linked to her mind, must be able to tell as she drains any sort of fear and panic out of finley— certainly not out of kindness, but to keep her from thrashing, panicking, doing something stupid enough to break whatever connection she had created. and, once again, against her will, she's forced into a sleep. most likely the last peaceful one she'll ever have again.

ooc: so here we are! four people dead, and the brotherhood have uncovered a spy in their midst. the omegas and xavier will be in a flurry trying to withdraw april and isobel, but also find a way to get finley out of there. all the omegas and xavier students have now been made aware by professor xavier and han-byul about the three spies in the organization. the brotherhood will be searching for other traitors, while interrogating finley for all she knows and what she’s told. the only people who know where she is are magneto, betty, irena, and the top agents. her torture will be mainly handled by the top agent she was under, ezra.

even those outside of the groups can feel the tension bubbling under the surface. something’s coming—and no one will be spared when it finally boils over.

be on the lookout for another plot drop coming later this may!

#c23plotdrop #ncitw #violence tw #death tw #car crash tw

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

Note

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson fic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst/fluff #manny tlou #wlf #washington liberation front #abby anderson / reader #abby/reader

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emachinescat · 3 years

Note

The tenth doctor, for the character ask :)

Oh, this is a good one! :)

My first impression of Ten was pretty much my first impression of any newly regenerated Doctor: "But... he's not the same :(" I think there's a natural grieving process where the viewer has to adjust alongside the Doctor and any companions that stay by his side. I loved Nine, and losing him was like losing a friend. I was hurt and confused alongside Rose. But as soon as the scene with the pajamas and the apple in the dressing gown happened, I was like, "Okay, this guy's got real Doctor energy." When the Lion King bit happened, I was SOLD.

My impression now is that he is one of my favorite iterations of the Doctor -- though let me also say that to me, the Doctor is the Doctor. He (or she, though I haven't had a chance to watch the new seasons yet) is the same character, and I don't like to play favorites. But there are definitely portrayals and characteristics that I prefer. Anyway. He's so multi-faceted -- he can be intense and brooding, silly and disarming, cold and furious, lighthearted and charming. And it all combines to create a character who is so complex -- hurting, filled with guilt, wanting to love but afraid to move on from his past, forgiving but only to a certain point because he's seen too much. A fierce, fierce friend. A terrifying enemy. ... And his hair, amiright??

I positively cannot pick one favorite moment with Ten. A few off the top of my head: (1) His joyful glee during the whole Agatha Christie episode, (2) His descent into his worst nightmare as he tries to keep a hold on the situation in "Midnight," (3) "I'm the Doctor, and I just snogged Madame de Pompadour!", (4) The conversation with Wilf in the spaceship -- "I'd be proud if you were my dad." Actually any of his interactions with Wilf, (5) "Barefoot on the moon!" And there are so, so many more. These aren't necessarily my top 5 either, they're just the ones that popped into my head. Every moment he's on screen, honestly, is just incredible.

Okay, so this story idea I have is one that is just in my brain right now, but I plan to write it soon. It's very niche, as it's a crossover, and it doesn't directly involve the Doctor. It's a crossover with the horror podcast The Magnus Archives. If you're unfamiliar, TMA is about an archive that records and catalogs accounts of supernatural encounters and it has a lot of thematic parallels with DW. It turns into SO MUCH MORE, but I won't spoil anything here. The premise is that after Donna says no to traveling with the Doctor the first time, she regrets it instantly (as we know) and ends up trying anything to track him down -- including going to The Magnus Archives and making a statement, hoping someone can help her find him. She obviously will not be a happy customer when she finds out the way they operate, but that's half the fun. The story would be in the format of a statement. This isn't a story directly involving Ten (at least in the beginning) but hopefully this still counts. It's the only Ten era story in my head right now! :)

My unpopular opinion (and I think this really is unpopular, not the kind of "unpopular" that a lot of people agree with) has to do with his companions rather than the Doctor directly, but... I don't like Martha Jones. While I admire her independence and the way that she doesn't let the Doctor get away with anything, I find her personality to be grating sometimes. Of course, she has her good moments, but overall she just irritates me. Particularly the way she does the Doctor when she leaves him. I totally get that she wants to take care of her family. That's admirable. She should do that. But that whole turning around and tacking on that she's leaving because she likes the Doctor and he doesn't like her and apparently that's HIS fault? Especially after all he's just suffered? It just feels selfish. The Doctor never claimed he loved her. Never gave her any indication that he liked her in that way. And yet she seems to feel entitled to that kind of attention. This is just my opinion, though, and I do totally understand that it's unpopular. Donna is bar-none the best companion Ten had. Which leads me to...

Ten and Donna's relationship is my favorite. Tennant and Tate have such a great dynamic on and off screen, and on stage (their Much Ado About Nothing is perfection). Their exchanges and jabs at each other always make me laugh, but they also so genuinely care about each other. Donna's abrasive personality both conflicts with and compliment's the Doctor's own personality, and they fit so well as friends. This is why Donna's end on the show is so utterly painful, the worst for me, perhaps (except maybe for Bill's, because that was SERIOUSLY messed up). But right up there with Donna is Wilf. His relationship with the Doctor is FOOD FOR MY DADDY ISSUE ANGST RIDDEN CLOSURE SEEKING SOUL.

My favorite headcanon is a super simple one, and it does extend into Eleven's timeline. I hc so hard that Ten visits Wilf far more often than we see in the show, even after Donna forgets. Sometimes they talk -- about alien life, about Wilf's time in the war, about how Sylvia's driving him mad, about Donna. Sometimes they drink tea in silence. And I think this continues even after Ten regenerates, at least for one last time. Eleven refuses to leave Wilf without closure. And (shameless plug), I actually wrote that particular headcanon into existence. You can read it here!

So yeah, thanks for the ask! Hope you enjoyed it, weird crossover fics and unpopular opinions about universally loved companions and all! ;)

#answering asks #thanks for the ask!#character asks #doctor who #tenth doctor #head canon #unpopular opinion #story idea #this was fun

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opheliasbrokenmind · 3 years

Text

heartbreaker - tommy shelby

hiiii, i’m back on my obsession with this man... i was going to write something short but then i couldn’t control myself and this happened. let me know your thoughts, feedback is always welcomed <3

and idk what kind of writing is this, since i find it hard & scary to write a full one shot but i know this isn’t a hc or drabble as well, i only hope you enjoy it :)) and i’m free for three weeks and i’m waiting for your tommy requests as always

gif is not mine, credits to the owner

being the most reckless teenage girl in small heath, it wasn’t a surprise you hung out with the blue-eyed princess, ada shelby

it all started when you were barely ten, going to the same school

soon you were sharing a desk and tons of laughs

even the teachers failed to make you silent. if they tried to separate you two, you’d cause a huge mess in the classroom

spending time at shelbys after a long school day, chatting all afternoon in her room, ada complaining about her brothers and you giggling at her words

one day you laid your hands on a book and it was it, you were telling stories to ada all day long

you started talking about how small the small heath really was, a tiny world which you decided to leave the first chance you got

then you were fifteen, a young soul with wildness, searching for every kind of trouble possible

ada on your arm, going on dates with boys you knew from school, sneaking out all the time

but ada wasn’t the same, thanks to her overprotective brothers. they believed you were a bad influence for her but your souls were bonded

and that never stopped john from taking you out a night, getting you a drink and kissing your lips

you weren’t looking for a strong relationship and neither did he so it was just a few days and a few more kisses, none of the family members knowing it - or you both thought that

you were hanging out with a boy for a few months, then you were over it in a day. next week, you were going to pictures with another guy, laughing and enjoying your life

ada insisted you spent many nights with her, you girls talking about everything and by the time you were seventeen, you thought her older brother tommy looked quite good

one night you woke up, walking downstairs to have a glass of water and there he was, sipping tea in the middle of the night

‘what are you doing, tom?’ you asked, your eyes still trying to adjust to the light as you frowned, wondering if something was wrong

‘i’m thinking. care to join me for a cup of tea?’ he suggested and well, who were you to say no?

you took the chair next to him and watched him bringing you a cup and pouring you hot tea. the view seemed and felt too regular to you, you’ve seen him doing the same for his siblings for thousand times

just before you reached for the sugar, he leaned forward and put the exact amount of sugar you used. you didn’t say anything as he looked at you, you watched his fingers holding the hot cup, knuckles almost white

‘what are you thinking?’ you asked shyly, you weren’t so close with him unlike other shelbys. john was a friend, arthur was like a brother but tommy? you didn’t know what was he to you

he was the brother who tried to keep ada on the line and you were the distracter. the young, reckless friend filled with passion for everything. you were excited about books, boys and anything life had to offer you

‘the war, the soldiers’ he said like he was talking about the weather

‘what? you’re not thinking about going there, are you?’ you frowned immediately, leaning in to look directly into his eyes

‘i don’t know, feels like i should be there like the other boys’ he said the truth and you grabbed his wrist, an annoyed look plastered on your face ‘are you serious? don’t act like a fool, tom’

his name sounded harsh on your lips, like the times he spotted you and ada at the pub, taking you back home as you resisted. even though he was seven years older than you, you were never afraid to say his name as you wished

‘do you think it’s a joke, y/n?’ he asked, his blue orbs focused on you, ignoring your glued fingers on his arm

‘your family needs you here, not in a shithole in france. you’ll go there and what? that’ll prove something to the people? or you’ll end up as a man with no grave? leaving these people here just with pain?’ you hissed, glaring at him as you let go of his arm

‘you speak like i don’t care about them. i want to protect this country so they’ll be safe’ he explained calmly

‘you can’t leave them’ you said but it came out as a whisper, you almost said ‘us’ instead of ‘them’. tommy watched you staring at the tea and he tried to guess what was going on inside your head

‘as if you like me, y/n’ he faked a smile in an attempt to cheer you a bit but it only made you angrier, ‘fuck you, tom’ you hoped he didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks and turned your head away from him

‘that’s not what you’ve said to john, huh?’ he couldn’t control the words so when you heard him, your lips parted with surprise. ‘i don’t have to defend myself to you, that was two years ago’

‘i saw you two, then you broke his heart’ he let it out and you didn’t know what to say, ‘it wasn’t something serious and that was before martha, he looks very happy now’

‘that’s just what you do, right? breaking hearts and moving on’ his words caught you off guard and you thought he was trying to change the war subject. if he wanted to argue, you were up for it

‘it’s not my problem if boys are that fragile. maybe they should, you know, grow up’ you said simply, waiting for another smart answer

‘grow up and what, break your heart?’ he asked back and you found yourself smiling, ‘oh, no. i’m the heartbreaker here. they should look for a girl who’ll marry them and stand them’

‘wise words for a little girl’ he said as he smiled, a real one this time. ‘little girl? i’m almost eighteen and i remember, your girlfriend isn’t too older than me’ with the mention of greta, his smile fell off and you could tell something was wrong

‘what’s wrong, is she okay?’ you asked and waited impatiently for an answer. ‘she’s sick, i-’ he stopped and shook his head slowly, ‘i don’t know what to do, she’s not getting better, just worse and.. her parents don’t let me see her’

‘i’m so sorry’ you managed to say and when he looked at you, he knew you meant it. ‘why didn’t you tell....’ you were going to ask if the other shelbys knew but it sounded ridiculous in your head

‘i don’t know how to. whatever, i shouldn’t have told you, too’

‘you know, i’m not your enemy. yet it looks like you’re searching for more, huh?’ he was thinking of an answer but you weren’t waiting for one, you got up and walked to the stairs, leaving him with his thoughts

that was the last time tommy saw you, you disappeared for the next days and soon he found out from ada, your aunt passed away and you moved to london with your mom

unlike her shy, sweet sister greta, kitty jurossi was outgoing and she happened to be a friend of a friend of yours. before you left for london, you managed to persuade your mother to go and speak to her family

with that, tommy shelby was allowed to stand by his first love and hold her hand for three months until she closed her eyes and never opened them again

days after her funeral, he’d learn the reason why her parents let him stay with her. then he signed up for war, leaving without looking back. in the end, there was nothing for him to stay

meanwhile, you were discovering the london, meeting with new people and trying not to think of small heath. of course, you were missing your best friend but ada and you both knew you’d escape the small town with the first chance you got

ada’s response to your letter arrived months later, letting you know greta was dead and the shelby men were in france, fighting for the king

it made you sick for days, unfamiliar nausea bothering you all day, making your whole body ache. you were worried for the shelby men you grew up with and for the women waiting for their family

the war continued mercilessly and at some point you even thought about writing the boys a letter but you didn’t know what to say after leaving them without a word

then it was all over. ada wrote to you, telling you they all returned yet everything was different now. the way tommy turned and the lack of sincerity in john’s smiles. he used to laugh, you thought

you were living on your own in london when you got another letter from ada, it was bad news. apparently freddie was dead, which made you cry on the carpet on your hallway, remembering the boy ada used to talk about years ago. ‘now it’s just me and karl, y/n. i’m leaving this hell, probably coming to london’

but she forgot to give you a new address and you never dared to write to shelbys, asking about ada. you guessed they didn’t hear from her as well, since she left with a broken heart and rage

one day you couldn’t find a book at the bookshop so you made your way to the library, looking for a worker to help you. there she was, the best friend you ever had

‘ada?’ you asked and it was it, you were reunited. spending days talking about everything that happened after you left with lots of hugs, glasses of wine and cups of tea

you started to spend most of the week at her house and of course, karl loved you. it was as if you never parted away, you were happy again

she learned you were continuing your career as a heartbreaker with londoners. ‘heartbreaker, huh? is there anyone nowadays, y/n sweetheart?’

‘oh no, i used to hang around with a writer. he was saying i was his muse all the time and you know, it’s nice to hear things like that. then he left the fucking country, saying he wasn’t productive with all the noise in the city’

‘someone sounds angry’ she teased and you laughed, ‘i was but i don’t care much. i mean, i couldn’t leave here and move to the countryside, raising chickens. i need the wildness in this crazy city’

soon you were going to the parties together, good looking men and booze surrounding you all the time

it was your birthday when you went to have dinner at a nice restaurant, then met with your other friends in a nightclub

you would say both of you could handle your drinks but when it was almost midnight, you thought ‘fuck it, we can mess for once’ then the rest of it was a little bit blurry

you could remember the girls dropping you to ada’s flat and ada going to her room. you lit a cigarette and once it was finished, you thought how soft was the carpet at the living room. even it was an uncomfortable surface, you slept like a baby

that’s why you didn’t hear the knock on the door. then with a little force, it opened. thomas shelby walked in, cursing underneath his breath

he stepped in and saw a body laying on the ground, a woman, wearing a short silk dress and tommy walked to her with fear, his heartbeat quickening

then he realised it was you, after all those years. you were breathing, thank god. so he gently shook you, ‘y/n’ your name sounded like a pray on his lips

you sighed and opened your eyes slowly, only to see a man kneeling beside you and that man happened to have a face of a ghost from your past, tommy shelby himself

‘tom?’ you asked and you thought it didn’t feel real. ‘i’m still that drunk, huh?’ you chuckled softly but when you looked again, he was still there

‘it’s not a dream, y/n. i’m here and i see, you haven’t changed, not even a bit’ he sounded kinda angry, frustrated because the state he found you in

you frowned and watched him, ‘and here i was, thinking i got prettier’ he rolled his eyes but soon enough you were both smiling

‘you are’ he let it out and you stared at him, ‘that means i wasn’t pretty back then?’ this time his smile was wider, ‘i didn’t say that’ it was surprising you both, you were talking like you weren’t strangers now

it was weird yet comforting, familiar just like the last time you spoke, years ago. you could see he was a man now, a beautiful one with hands covered with blood you couldn’t see

and there you were, he thought. still a heartbreaker with an angel’s face

#i have no idea what i'm doing #just some tommy fluff (?) to entertain myself #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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aimmyarrowshigh · 3 years

Note

Dark Greetings this Spooky Season Ms. V. Can we get a list of your favorite Halloween movies and specials? I know you have seen *everything* and I am trying to go beyond my usual rewatches this holiday month.

V. AIMMYARROWSHIGH’S CRITERIA FOR HALLOWEEN EPISODES

Does the Halloween element combine convincingly with the usual universe of the show (ex: Lizzie McGuire 2x09 “Those Freaky McGuires” is not good as a Halloween episode because it changes the rules of the Lizzie McGuire universe, whereas Community 2x06 “Epidemiology” is a GREAT Halloween episode because it manages to logically introduce zombies to the regular Community universe)?

Does the Halloween element advance the plot of the episode/series (ex: the reason Boy Meets World 5x17 “And Then There Was Shawn” is literally the best Halloween episode ever made is that it uses the horror movie tropes it satirizes to provide a CRUCIAL turning-point to the plot of the show)?

Is the Halloween episode in the forefront enough that it’s clearly a holiday episode (ex: HAVING ONE JACK-O’LANTERN ON A DESK DOES NOT A HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MAKE, LAW & ORDER 16x03 “GHOSTS”! You gotta go ALL-IN, like Bob’s Burgers 3x02 “Full Bars”!)?

Does the Halloween theme balance well between spooky and warm-n-fuzzy (ex: Criminal Minds 11x21 “Mr. Scratch” is too fucking bleak, but Criminal Minds 12x06 “Elliott’s Pond” has a joyous/celebratory tone to the ending despite being a genuinely scary episode)?

Is it generally a well-written, acted, and designed episode of television (ex: Saved by the Bell! 3x26 “Mystery Weekend” is seriously, not exaggerating, the worst thing I’ve ever watched in my life; Psych 1x15 “Scary Sherry, Or Bianca’s Toast” is a triumph of the medium)?

THE BEST, bar none, Halloween special ever made is Boy Meets World 5x17, “And Then There Was Shawn.” Period. There can be no argument, except MAYBE Community 3x06, “Epidemiology,” but I like “And Then There Was Shawn” better because the parody and homage as less… biting? And because I think it continues and addresses the emotional core of the regular BMW season better than “Epidemiology” does for Community s3. “Epi” DOES plant the seed (…heh) for the Season 3B major plot arc of Shirley’s pregnancy and Chang Deciding To Murder, but it gets some major minus points for mocking Yvette Nicole Brown’s weight with other characters’ responses to her costume, tbh. And “And Then There Was Shawn” is just fucking iconic. It is THE Halloween episode manual, IMO, if there were to be a textbook on how to write a perfect Halloween episode for your sitcom.

HOWEVER, I also have to give major props to Bob’s Burgers and Psych, as complete series, for their CONSISTENTLY excellent Halloween episodes. A lot of series that have multiple Halloween eps really phone it in after one or two, because they don’t have any more ideas for how to incorporate Halloween pastiches while maintaining the overall feeling of the series (tbh B99, while the Halloween Heists are excellent in general, is/has been coming very close to this line, and I think that if they HADN’T had to switch out the Heist to Cinco de Mayo in s6, they would have jumped their Heist Shark [and I think they know it, too, because it was lampshaded in the episode itself]) or they just straight-up don’t have any more ideas for what or how to have the characters they’re bound to parody or pay homage to a Halloween thing after they’ve already done one or two. And let’s be real: those one or two have probably been either The Shining or Rear Window, because those are pretty much the two that every show starts with.

Bob’s manages to make every Halloween episode feel very fresh and organic to the series, which I think they do have some leeway to do because of the nature of cartoons keeping the Belchers living a kind of loop of never aging, yk, but amazingly they’ve only done the “Tina feels too old to trick or treat, maybe? Nope, she’s not 14 yet, so there’s still time!” thing in a way that felt tropey once (in 3x02 Full Bars). They’ve been able to address Tina being 13/in 8th grade, and worrying about it being almost too late for her to keep trick or treating, in ways that were in-character and added to the overall episode in 4x02 Fort Night, 5x02 Tina and the Real Ghost, and 9x04 Nightmare on Ocean Avenue Street, without me rolling my eyes at the screen and going “TINA, EVERY SINGLE SHOW WITH A TWEEN IN IT HAS ALREADY DECIDED THAT THE AGE AT WHICH YOU MUST STOP TRICK OR TREATING IS FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, COME ON NOW” which… at this point, is a Feat. Because like, I’ve POSTED over a thousand Halloween episodes, right? But I’ve watched and screencapped ::checks folder:: 3,905 Halloween episodes since 2014. Which is, um, a. lot. The ACTUAL BEST Bob’s Burgers Halloween episode is 6x03, “The Hauntening,” which is just… achingly perfect television. I know I’ve posted about it before (probably a couple times tbh) but the way that it aired originally back-to-back with The Simpsons 27x04, “Halloween of Horror,” so that the evening of Sunday cartoons juxtaposed eight-year-old Louise whose family worked so hard to scare her like she wanted with nine-year-old Lisa’s family working so hard to keep her from being too scared and make sure that she felt safe… reader, I FUCKIN CRIED. Little girls being deeply loved while also Spoopy Things!!!!!! IS WHAT HALLOWEEN SPECIALS ARE!!! FUCKIN!!!!!! ABOUT!!!!!!!

Psych, though, has the benefit of not really having any, like… central tone to the series? Beyond “friendship” and “having fun with joking,” tbh? So it’s able to do what a lot of series get docked “points” for in my Foolproof Halloween Special Ratings System That Is Completely Subjective To My Tastes And Mood, which is really just run full-tilt into parody and homage without really worrying about overall tonal connection to the rest of the season or series. 1x15, “Scary Sherry, or, Bianca’s Toast,” while it DOES fall victim to the way-too-common Halloween episode trap of making mental hospitals into a Scary Thing (they are a medical normality and a necessary thing for health for many people and should not be feared), is delightful Spooky Fun AND has the benefit of having Shannon Woodward in it.* We all know by now that if an episode of any show has Shannon Woodward as the guest star, it will by default end up being one of the best, if not THE best, episodes of that series. It’s just how having Shannon Woodward as your guest star rolls. I also really like, with Psych’s Halloween episodes, that quite a few of them understand the underlying thematic scope of Horror, which is “The Monstrous Feminine Is A Thing And All Horror Tropes Are Actually About Women’s Interior Lives Because Men Can’t Write Women And Fear Women Always,” yk, in a way that is neither TOO Actual Horror, which I am too afraid of to Do, or too trite and demeaning, which is the other basic trap that Halloween stuff falls into A Lot. Like, Scary Sherry is very much about women villainizing other women, avenging other women, and being in very specifically-female pain, even though Shawn & Gus are still the lens through which we solve the mystery, and so are 4x04 The Devil Is In The Details And The Upstairs Bedroom and 6x03 This Episode Sucks. But they give their Monstrous Females dignity and breadth, which is impressive, ESPECIALLY since they’re one-off guest characters. Also, 3x15 Tuesday the 17th is just plain funny and well-done, like, just give it props for the title alone.

*(Speaking of Shannon Woodward, another amazingly good Halloween episode is Raising Hope 4x07, “Murder, She Hoped,” which is among my very favorite Rear Window homage episodes and has probably the funniest gag in ANY Rear Window ep, in Martha Plimpton floating across the screen in the Grace Kelly silk nightgown and peignoir and announcing that it was on sale at Walmart, can you believe?! and honestly, yes. Perfection.)

Also excellent:

• The Addams Family (1991) + Addams Family Values (1993) • Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School (RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU WERE GAY FOR SIBELLA AS A CHILD!) • Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost (RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU'RE GAY BECAUSE THE HEX GIRLS!) • Halloweentown + Halloweentown II: Kalabar's Revenge • Mom's Got a Date with a Vampire! • Z•O•M•B•I•E•S (to a lesser extent, Z•O•M•B•I•E•S 2) • Clue (1985) • Coraline • Corpse Bride • 6teen 2x00 Dude of the Dead • Arthur 21x00 Arthur and the Haunted Treehouse • Lamb-Chop in the Haunted Studio • Arthur 8x04A Fern-kenstein's Monster • Arthur 10x02 The Squirrels • WandaVision 1x06 The All-New Halloween Spooktacular (I KNOW YOU, SPECIFICALLY, DEAR @plavoptice, HATE MCU!WANDA AND I DON'T BLAME YOU, YOUR REASONS ARE VERY VALID! But this is a good Halloween special so I'm putting it on my list In General.) • Boy Meets World 2x06 Who's Afraid of Cory Wolf? • Ghostbusters (2016) • Gravity Falls 1x12 Summerween • Leverage 4x02 Ten L'il Grifters Job • The Loud House 2x40 Tricked! • Mockingbird Lane 1x00 Unaired Pilot • It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! (Classic, etc.)

I'm SURE I'm forgetting some that I'll rewatch this year myself. I'm a big Halloween Baking Championship fan, tbh, which is on Discovery+ now so I recommend that if you like mostly-relaxing nice people baking cakes that look like bats and such.

I'm also IMMENSELY INTENSELY EXCITED for The Muppets' Haunted Mansion on Disney+ next week!!!

#halloween #**halloween

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waywardodysseys · 4 years

Text

Finders Keepers - Oneshot

gif by @rainbowkisses31

Pairing: Chris Evans x female reader

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), beard burn, cussing

~ ~ ~

The smell of tomato, basil, oregano, and garlic fill the expansive kitchen as you stir the homemade sauce for the made from scratch meatballs you made earlier in the day. Being stuck in quarantine had made your inner Julia Child explode. It didn’t help your boyfriend encouraged you to cook more often especially when he loved devouring the homemade meals you made for him when he returned from being away from work for long periods of time, walking the halls of D.C., or stuck doing press tours for upcoming projects.

A happy bark and the click clack of toenails against the hardwood floor break through the quietness. You turn and look towards the living room. Chris is walking towards you in jeans and a red-black flannel shirt. You can’t help but smile and shake your head.

“What?” Comes Chris’ snarky yet kind remark as he closes the distance between the two of you.

You run your hand over the buzz cut he’s given himself. “I can’t believe you decided to cut it.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, “I had nothing else to do.”

Dodger sits on the floor, moving his head back and forth as he keeps his eyes on the two of you.

You hum as you face the stove. You check the display, noting you must place the meatballs in the sauce in ten minutes. You feel Chris’ arms wrap around you and his rough beard scrape you neck.

“Chris,” you ground out as his teeth nip at your skin.

“Y/N,” Chris whispers in his smooth baritone voice.

Shivers run down your spine as his hands dip under your shirt and stroke your skin. Your body hums as his hands move up your stomach and cup your breasts. He squeezes them lightly as he grinds himself against your ass.

You moan lightly as you feel his hardness. You try to keep your focus on stirring the sauce.

“Please tell me we have time,” Chris moans.

“We have plenty,” you pause, “later.”

Chris sighs heavily, “I guess I should do the vid for Save with Stories. Get it over with.”

You smile, “know what book you’re going to read?”

“If You Give A Dog A Donut,” Chris replies, “Dodger needs to stay in here with you.”

“I know. You know he and I get along great. Even greater than you and I.”

Chris grazes your skin with his teeth, “hey now.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his sarcasm.

Chris removes his hands from your body then kisses your neck gently. His beard scrapes your delicate skin which sends a heatwave through your body.

“You should go,” you squeak out, “before we do something, forget dinner, and burn the house down.”

Chris chuckles lowly as he smacks your ass playfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You hear him shuffle away then his soft whisper to Dodger “stay here with her. Protect her Dodgy. She’s important to us both.”

From the corner of your eye you watch Dodger lower himself to the floor. He crosses his front two paws and looks up at you.

“Good boy,” Chris whispers.

You shake your head and smile as you hear Chris walk out of the kitchen to somewhere else in the house.

-------

Hours later, after dinner and approving one of Chris’ umpteenth takes on his book reading, you are sitting in an oversized chair when the doorbell rings.

Dodger removes himself from beside your chair and walks to the door with Chris.

“Thank you,” you hear Chris’ voice state as sounds of bags make their way to your ears.

Chris had said he was overseeing dessert earlier in the afternoon. You wondered what he had delivered because there was ice cream in the freezer and brownie mixes in the pantry. Your mind tries to think about what day it is because with the quarantine they’ve seemed to all run together.

It’s neither of your birthdays, nor Dodger’s. You know it’s not an anniversary either. It’s the end of March. What could possibly be at the end of March?

Then it hits you like a runaway freight train.

Two years ago, you had been sitting outside the Martha-Mary Chapel on the Longfellow’s Wayside Inn estate in a bubblegum pink bridesmaid’s dress when a plate was placed in front of your face. You had looked up and into Chris’ blue eyes.

“My mother has always advised me to never take cake from strangers,” your voice had a hint of sadness yet bewilderment to it.

“This is,” Chris had said, “the best chocolatiest cake in the entire world. The frosting alone,” Chris had done a chef’s kiss motion with the sound, “perfection. Try it.”

“Why me?” You had asked with a raised eyebrow as you took the plate and one of the two forks he had.

Chris had taken a seat beside you. His body was warm, and you had burrowed into it because of the night chill.

“Everyone here is all smiles except you.”

“I was smiles earlier.” You had retorted with sarcasm before taking your first bite.

Oh, my fucking word, your mind had thought as you tasted the most meltingly delicious chocolatiest cake of your entire life.

“For the ceremony, pictures. Yes.” Chris had remarked. “Talk to me.”

You knew who he was, knew he was a friend of the groom. You were related to the bride.

You had shrugged, taken another bite. “I’ve been in three weddings in the last ten months. Will be in two more. One I am the maid of honor, wedding of my best friend. Probably the only one I’m happy for. I mean, I am happy for them all, but you know,” you had shrugged, “I haven’t been as lucky as the couples.”

“Love is hard. Finding it, keeping it. Making it thrive.” Chris had implied as he looked at you with a sly grin.

A month later after that night, you and Chris had become official.

You now watch as Chris walks into the living room. Dodger walking beside him slowly. The wide brown eyes looking between his dad and you.

“Sit at her feet,” Chris whispers as he finally stands in front of you.

Your eyes move between the human and the animal. Your heart quickens as Dodger sits then Chris kneels in front of you.

He holds out a plate big enough for two pieces of cake from Longview but only one is on the plate along with the words “will you marry me” handwritten in chocolate sauce.

“You know I like to celebrate the night we met, because it changed my life and I know it changed yours too. We found love together. We’ve made it thrive. We’ve kept it strong through the battles we’ve encountered. I want to keep our love thriving. Finders, keepers,” Chris glees as love makes his eyes twinkle.

As if on cue, Dodger raises a paw and places it on your lap. Tied lightly to his paw is a bubblegum pink ribbon which is holding a princess cut ring in place.

“Dodger wants you to be here forever too,” Chris whispers as he hands you the plate then unties the ribbon.

When the ring is free from Dodger’s paw and the ribbon, Chris cups your cheek and strokes your skin softly. You wouldn’t trade this man for any other in the world. He was right.

You and he found love with one another. The two of you made it thrive and survive with his busy work schedule and your fast pace career. You and he weathered battles together and always won.

“Marry me Y/N,” Chris whispers as he looks into your eyes.

You see the gleam of the love, and the forever he’s promising you.

You smile brightly, “yes.”

Chris smiles widely as he chokes back the tears. He reaches down and grabs your left hand. He slides the platinum band on your left fourth finger as you lean over and press your mouth against his.

Minutes later you pull faintly away from Chris, both of you breathless and filled with loved for one another. You wanted him; you didn’t care for the dessert you held in your hand.

“Chris,” you sigh happily, “I’d rather have you now then dessert.”

Chris grins as he stands and holds out his hand, “I see no harm in giving my fiancée what she wants.”

Fiancée, you think. You never thought about finding and keeping love until Chris walked into your life. Part of you grateful he liked celebrating the night you two met.

You hold onto Chris’s hand as he walks back through the kitchen, takes the plate from your hand and sets it inside of the fridge. The both of you move towards the bedroom.

Chris wraps you in his arms as he kicks Dodger’s lion out of the room and into the hallway then closes the door. Chris kisses you deeply as your hands travel up his arms and across his broad shoulders.

You place your hands on the back of his neck and pull away. You look into his blue eyes and smile. You then run a hand over his buzz cut. You like the short hair yet preferred it slightly longer so you could run your fingers through it.

“It’ll grow back,” Chris whispers.

“I know,” you whisper in return, “I’m soaking you in under a new light. Fiancé.”

Chris chuckles low in his chest, “wait till it’s husband. Missus future Evans. Future wife.”

You sweep your lips against Chris’, “well mister Evans, I want my dessert,” you roam your hands down the flannel shirt he is wearing and begin unbuttoning it, “and you are it.”

“You’re mine,” Chris growls as his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants.

He pushes his hand into your pants and palms your core. His fingers tease your folds as your fingers move quickly to open his flannel shirt, exposing his skin to your eyes and touch.

You move your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest. His skin is soft yet warm. You enjoyed burrowing into him on cold nights during a Massachusetts winter. He’d wrap his arms around you and hold you close. You’d inhale the cedar and lemon smell of his cologne, and know you were loved and at home.

You moan lowly as your body begins to hum with pleasure and consumed with heat. You walk Chris back towards the bed, making him remove his hand from your core. You push the flannel shirt off him then push him down on the mattress.

You straddle him and place kisses along his neck then across his collarbone. You move your mouth slowly down his chest and stomach. Your fingers fumbling with his pants. After getting them undone, you reach in with one hand and find him hard. You stroke him slowly, making sure you tease the tip with your thumb.

“Fu—mmm,” Chris moans as he feels your hand wrap around his cock.

You push down his pants, with his help, and reveal his lengthy and girthy cock to your eyes. You moan lowly in your chest before dipping your head and wrapping your lips around the tip. You swirl your tongue around rapidly as you let one hand stroke the rest of his length.

Chris’ hands move through your hair as his orgasm rises inside of him. He inhales a sharp breath as you move your mouth down his length slowly. Once your mouth hits the base you move your mouth back up his length, your salvia lathering him.

Chris’ low moans and slight pull on your hair encourages you to reach up and cup his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock then you lick his entire length slowly up and down.

“Y/N,” Chris moans as his body ramps up on pleasure and his orgasm increases its buildup.

You lower your mouth onto his cock and bob your head up and down a few more times before you release it. You kiss your way back up his stomach and chest. You nip teasingly at his neck as his hands find their way under your shirt and onto your skin.

Chris places a finger under your chin, making you look at him. He grins as he lightly places a kiss on your lips then uses the strength he has to flip you onto your back.

You sit up for a second while Chris removes his pants. You discard your top and bra as well as wiggling out of your pants and underwear. You lick your lips as Chris returns to the bed and moans loudly at your naked body.

Chris runs a hand down your body and finds your core. You’re hot and wet. He grins against your skin as he hears a moan vibrate in your chest.

“Chris,” you sigh as pleasure seeps into your body.

Chris grazes his beard roughly against your flesh as be begins moving his mouth down your body. He knows the gratification you get from feeling the prickliness of hairs against your skin, he knows you like the burn marks his beard leaves on your skin.

Chris flicks one nipple as he moves a finger along your folds. His tongue swirls teasingly around the bud as his thumb grazes your clit.

“Fuuu—mmm,” you pant breathlessly. You need his tongue on your sensitive nub, you need to his beard against your sensitive flesh.

Chris flicks the other nipple before he continues moving his mouth down your stomach, making sure his beard grazes your skin roughly, sending your body further into the depths of fulfillment.

“Chris, please,” you plead in a whisper.

Chris dips his head between your legs and uses his fingers to open your folds. He moans inwardly at seeing your wetness and knowing how sweet you taste. Chris runs his tongue up your sensitive folds and swirls his tongue around your clit.

Your hands grasp the sheets under your body as you feel Chris’ tongue against your sensitive nub. You moan loudly as you feel his beard against the sensitive skin of your folds. He knows to pleasure you with both his tongue and beard against your most sensitive area.

You roll your hips lightly increasing the pleasure both his tongue and beard. Your orgasm rising inside of steadily as you feel euphoric in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you whisper in a pant, “Chris!”

Your orgasm is cresting, and you move one hand to his head. The prickliness from his buzz cut adds to the pleasure and sends your body into overdrive – your orgasm crashes inside of you making your body tremble.

“Chris!” You breathlessly pant as you let the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through your body.

Chris hums as he kisses your inner thighs. He scrapes his beard against your flesh.

Your fingers grasp the sheets as his beard sends goosebumps over your skin. You look down at him and see his trademark smirk.

“Yes?”

Your body is on a high from your orgasm and you need Chris inside of you more than ever. “I need you inside of me.”

Chris kneels between your open legs, “anything for you.”

He takes his hard cock and strokes your sensitive folds. When he hears your low moan he sinks himself slowly inside of you, making sure you feel every inch of him as he claims you again yet this time you are his fiancée, the forever love he’s been looking for his entire life.

Your breathing has increased as you feel Chris’ cock stretch you. Your slick walls wrap around him tightly as he lowers all of himself inside of your warmth and wetness.

Chris hisses as he feels your slick walls clutch his cock. You’re tight as glove around him as his entire length is buried deep inside of your depths. He feels your hands roam up his chest and land on his shoulders. He feels the light squeeze you give him – an encouragement for him to begin thrusting in and out of you.

Without hesitation, Chris begins pounding himself in and out you slowly, but his pace surging as his orgasm begins rising inside of him steadily. It was simmering and now that Chris inside of you, it’s cresting near the edge once again.

“Y/N,” Chris growls as his breathing quickens.

“Chris,” you moan in return as you lean forward and nip at his neck. Your teeth graze his skin lightly, then your tongue licks it slowly as you reach around him and dig your fingers into his back.

Your teeth and tongue send Chris over the edge. He thrusts into you once, then twice as he climaxes and empties himself inside of your pussy. He thrusts again, making sure every drop is inside of you.

Chris captures your mouth and kisses you deeply. He wraps his arms around you as you return his kiss. He feels you bring him down on top of you.

You don’t mind Chris’ body on top of yours. You enjoy his sweaty hot flesh against yours as you both come down from the highs of sex.

Chris pulls faintly away from your mouth. He notices the slight beard burn on your chin; he kisses the redden area lightly. Chris enjoys marking you, and with the ring on your finger, he knows he’s marked you forever.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Chris. Finders, keepers.”

#finders keepers oneshot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #oneshot #smut #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #fluff #beard burn #chris evans smut #im gonna leave this here

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spockandawe · 3 years

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Hi.....if you don't mind me asking, what are your top 10 favorite books? And why? Sorry if you've answered this question before....

This is an interesting question, and a difficult one! Which is why I let it steep for a few days while I was in a bookbinding fugue, haha XD

I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer it, because my level of fondness is highly dependent on how recently I read a book/how many times I’ve reread it, with an optional nostalgia modifier if something made a huge impression in my youth. And when I’m picking favorites, as the number of potential [thing] expands, the more I end up dithering and fretting that I’m forgetting something HUGE as I choose. So rather than a selection of top ten, I’ll just run down through some of my favorites! I’ll split it as five cnovels (recent reads, current genre hyperfixation) and five more conventional english-language novel (realistically, probably more like series, unless a standalone book occurs to me), and I’m not going to rank the conventional novels.

SO. Regular novels first. There’s a heavy recently-read/frequently-reread element going on in here.

The Imperial Radch trilogy, by Ann Leckie. Okay, I am a sucker for a nonhuman protagonist, which is going to pop up in at least two other entries. And I’m also a sucker for themes of what can be perceived about a person externally versus their internal world, and Breq delivers like WHOA. She has SO MUCH going on in her head, and even though we’re in there with her, she still hides lots of her emotions from us. And characters like Seivarden hit me in character development buttons that I’m a sucker for, and the whole idea of consciousness being split across multiple bodies is DELICIOUS to me. Also... love me a sentient spaceship. ‘The Ship Who X’ series by Anne McCaffrey isn’t going to make this list, but I also love it a lot. (also, a universe of ‘she’s made me realized how STARVED i was for that degree of representation in certain genres that i love a lot, but don’t often see myself in as often as i might like)

The Murderbot series, by Martha Wells. Another nonhuman, sometimes-human-passing protagonist! Another one processing MASSIVE trauma of a sort that I, the human reader, have to slow down a lot and try to comprehend from an extremely different life experience! I like that a lot, it really forces me to LINGER on the nature of what a character is feeling. And oh my god, Murderbot’s voice is one of my favorite pov voices of all time. And watching it work (or go hogwild on its own asdfdgd) is absolutely delightful. I love literally everything about this series, except what happened with Miki. Other than that? Flawless.

The Books Of The Raksura, by Martha Wells. Martha Wells is a DELIGHT, y’all. Also! Another heavily-traumatized, nonhuman protagonist! And this time, like... It’s a fantasy world with huge amounts of sentient species, and the protagonist grew up away from his people, who are basically a bunch of feral homesteaders (LOVE THAT), and is trying to figure out how to reintegrate into their societal structures as an adult. That desperate desire to belong and feeling of discomfort and not-fitting-in, and the connections he makes and the way he DOES find a way to fit... like if u crey every time. Also, as far as we’re shown, it’s a cheerfully bisexual, polyamorous society, and *grabby hands*

Discworld, by Terry Pratchett. God, what do I even say about this series. It was a PARADIGM SHIFT. It’s bitingly funny, and also just plain biting, and full of huge varieties of interesting stories, set in a fascinating world, with a series of protagonists who I love too much for words. Vimes! The witches! Moist!!! They’re all so WONDERFUL. I still haven’t read the last book in the series yet, because then it will be Over Forever, and I can’t deal. This one is heavily nostalgia-tinted, but also, I stand by it.

The Belgariad/Mallorean, by David Eddings. Okay. Also very nostalgia, and the choice I can justify the least. But these books CLICKED with me. I’m afraid to reread them, because I’ve been wallowing in queer fiction for so long I’m worried about what the compulsory heterosexuality will feel like, and I know both series are very... episodic, in a way that isn’t necessarily great literature. But I dunno! Feels good, man. It’s high fantasy with a magical system I like, segmented worldbuilding of a sort that isn’t necessarily WELL-MADE, but it’s like... comfortable and easy. And something about the style and the character voices just clicks with me. I have no idea how well these hold up in the present day, but I do love them, and I’ve been planning to reread at least The Redemption Of Althalus by the same author as a standalone before I commit to a 12-book rereading of this universe, but.... I like em XD

Cnovels! I think I can rank these, so let’s go for it.

Fifth favorite: The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish :B Look, it’s ridiculous. It’s a transmigration story where the lead enters this fictional universe in the body of a fish, where he is adopted by a prince who eventually falls in love with him, and YES IT IS TAGGED MPREG, BUT HOLD ON A MOMENT-- I don’t know! I came here to point and laugh, but I’m honestly having such a good time right now. It’s really cute! And sweet! The main character is delightful, and the love interest is that particular flavor of semi-socialized upper-class young man, where like, can he do court politics? yes. can he politely express his affections for the main character? uh....... less so. It’s a really fun read, and I felt very sincere emotions about this prince who is passionately, deeply in love with his pet fish!

Fourth favorite: Mmmmmm, Mo Dao Zu Shi, I think. I struggle here, because it is NOT an easy book to read or show to watch, but having consumed the story, I love it to PIECES. I know a big draw for me is the protagonist, specifically, and his relationships to the people around him. And the more I cared about him, the more I wound up caring about the people around him, who I’d kind of neglected before, if that makes sense? It’s a story that really rewards some good old pondering. I didn’t care that much about Lan Xichen, but then I started thinking about how Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji relate to Lan Xichen, and then oh no, I care SO MUCH about his emotions, and now I’m thinking more deeply about how Lan Xichen relates to Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue-- It does lose points in this ranking because it IS hard to get into, and I would struggle to keep everyone straight even more if I didn’t have the show visuals to lean on, but it is still story I enjoyed VERY much.

Third favorite: Erha, but I feel REALLY, REALLY BAD that I can’t fit Yuwu on this list too, and I just want to loop them together. It’s time travel fixit fic, but it’s the book! Yes????? I love this. I love the striking character growth we get to see, and the changing perception of the world as the main character relives through events he already experienced and sees things in a new light, and I adore how Mo Ran’s growing guilt goes hand in hand with his growing love. And Meatbun in general... like, my god. I haven’t read another author who’s able to yank me through emotional whiplash so hard and fast. She makes me hoot with laughter one moment and then burst into tears the next. It’s absolutely wild. I love mxtx, and I think svsss/tgcf are gentler entry points into the genre and deal with lighter themes, but meatbun is seriously an UNBELIEVABLE writer if you can deal with the darker topics she covers.

Second favorite: The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System :V Look, I love it. I just love it. I love, again, characters dealing with the aftereffects of old trauma, plus I do also love seeing NEW trauma piled on top of it. I love having a main character with emotional dysregulation issues who doesn’t necessarily make good decisions, but doesn’t just leave me thinking ‘jfc what an asshole’, and I think that’s a really hard balance for an author to strike, especially without us getting direct pov. I love themes of being wanted and insecurity about being wanted, which is Luo Binghe’s major, major damage. And this is my first transmigration story I ever read, and the contrast between a main character who read the novel telling us about what’s totally going to happen versus the ground shifting under his feet is INCREDIBLY delightful to me. I’ve read other transmigration stories I enjoyed, but none that got my attention quite as much as this one.

First favorite: Tian Guan Ci Fu ;u; It’s so good. It’s so well-made! It’s so LONG, and it meanders, but also, I would scream if anyone tried to trim anything out of it. I am here a lot for the ship, honestly, but I also find the plot themes VERY interesting. I am very much here for reading about characters trying to process old trauma that’s been dredged up by new events, and also very here for the themes about how characters either pass their traumas along to the next generation, or try to shield the next generation from taking the same kind of damage (see: mdzs). And I’m also very much into tempering stories about pain with like... memories of kindness, and small acts of kindness repaid with an outpouring of devotion (see: svsss). But the craftsmanship in this book is just... DIVINE. I’m always reluctant to start rereading this one, because I have a terrible time stopping. There’s nothing about this book that I don’t like.

#spock replies #long post/#thanad-zid

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merakiaes · 5 years

Text

Worth The Wait - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader (platonic)

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is not proof-read, so sorry in advance for mistakes and weirdly formed sentences. I hope you like it!

Wordcount: 3246

Summary: After your sister Martha’s passing, you’re left with John and the children to pick up the pieces. And although your relationship with John ins purely platonic, Tommy can’t help but be jealous of your relationship.

You were the first out of your sister Martha and yourself to meet the Shelbys.

You were two years older than her, the same age as John, and you and he had been classmates back when you were still in school.

The Shelbys and your family had lived in the same town your whole life, you and John seeing each other in school every day but never really talking. You had only started talking when you were sixteen.

It was around that age him and his older brother Arthur started getting into trouble, always going around the streets and picking fights with people.

Most of the times they deserved it, but still, you weren’t one to just sit back and watch, running in to save the day every time.

The first time it happened, John had been so caught up in punching the other boy that he’d accidentally hit you in the face with his elbow when you had tried to pull him back.

He had stopped only when hearing the sickening crack of your nose, turning back to look at you with wide eyes as Arthur, too, had, finally pulled himself back to reality and was yelling at him to stop.

John had wasted no time in starting to apologize, but rather than cry, you had just held your bleeding nose and punched him right back, before dragging him and Arthur off to clean them up.

From that day forward, you and John were inseparable, tight as two peas in a pod, but only as friends.

People often mistook your close friendship for young love, and it annoyed Tommy to no end, as he had developed a crush on you almost the same instant he laid eyes on you that day, watching with curious eyes as you punched his little brother in the face and then proceeded to scold both him and Arthur like you had known them forever.

Already at that time, you had actually managed to shut them up, having them hang their heads in shame while you cleaned their cuts, and it made Tommy fascinated, as he had never seen someone have so much control over them before.

Not even their aunt Polly.

At that time, Tommy had still been calm, and although sometimes a bit reckless, not half as violent as his brothers. So, most of the times, save a few when he actually joined in on the fighting, he would be stuck cleaning up his brothers with you.

It was two months later that you brought John over for dinner at your house for the first time, despite having been at theirs several times. And it was then John met Martha for the first time.

They took a liking to each other in an instant despite her being two years younger than you, and while you and John stayed best friends and attached at the hip, they started hanging out without you eventually, their relationship taking a romantic turn.

This left you with Arthur and Tommy, but since Arthur was the oldest of the brothers and had to help out with Finn, it was usually just you and Tommy.

You would spend hours on Charlie’s Yard with the horses, and stay out until late at night, just sitting around smoking cigarettes and laughing to the point where you would clutch your stomachs and be unable to breath.

For years, you and Tommy beat around the bush of your feelings to one another, as both of you were oblivious to the other’s emotions.

Tommy finally gathered up the courage to tell you one day, but then the war struck, and he decided to wait to tell you until afterwards, not wanting to leave you with that kind of heartbreak, should you love him back.

And so they left, leaving you back in Small Heath with Martha, Polly, Ada and your nieces and nephews; John and your sister sure had been busy.

You thought a lot about Tommy while they were away, but not as much as you would have if you would have stepped up your relationship before he left.

Tommy, however, thought about you every day, keeping a locket with your picture in his chest pocket, close to his heart at all times.

While away, John would talk about Martha and their children all the time. Tommy wanted to talk about you too, but for some reason, he just found himself unable to admit his feelings out loud before he had told you first.

But when the war was over, John came home and Martha was gone, having passed away in the influenza only weeks before their homecoming.

John was absolutely heartbroken and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t take care of his four children without the touch of a woman.

And so, you stuck around him from the moment he came back home.

Everyday, you would go over to his house with fresh food, getting up early every morning to go to the shop and be able to pick out the best fruit and vegetables before they were gone.

You would make them breakfast in the morning, making sure they were all fed, that the kids were ready for school, and that John actually got out of bed and headed over to the Betting Shop.

You would then hang around the Shelby residence the whole day while Polly and the Blinders tended to their business in the back, but rather than actually socialize, you prepped lunch and dinner for everyone and made sure everything was clean and in order so that Polly wouldn’t have to, taking care of Finn and John’s kids until it was time for the latter to go home to their own house.

All day, you would fuss over John and bid to his every request like you were the one he had married, taking care of his children like you were their mother. At least that’s how Tommy saw it.

He wasn’t the same after the war. He barely got any sleep at night, lying awake and listening to the sounds of shovels digging against the walls with panic, fear and anxiety rattling his bones. He craved for your touch, to be in your arms, but all you ever saw was John.

You knew it sounded horrible, but since they got back from the war, you had barely even taken the time to notice the way it had affected the older two of the three veterans. The only one you ever focused on was John, and everyone could see how jealous it made Tommy.

Before the war, he had been able to keep his romantic feelings towards you hidden good enough, but now, with the turn for the worse that his personality had taken, he was like an open book.

The only ones who couldn’t see it, were you and John, you being too busy to keep everything balanced in his and the children’s lives, and him being too wrapped up in his own chaotic mind to notice.

And though you and John had never been more than friends, everyone were now starting to doubt your constant denies to any romantic involvement with each other. Even Polly.

But they didn’t know that when you had put your nieces and nephews to bed every night, John would lay with his head in your lap and cry about your sister, remembering all of their shared moments and blaming himself for her death.

In what way it was his fault that she caught the influenza while he was away, you couldn’t quite figure out. But then again, you guessed there wasn’t really any logic in heartbreak, which was also why Tommy had been acting like a downright asshole for the past few months.

And today, when John had called for a family meeting in the backroom in The Garrison, was no different.

“Alright, John.” Tommy said in a bored toned as he wandered inside to where the rest of you were already sitting, trying his best to keep his eyes away from him where you sat beside him and sitting down on the opposite side of the table and lighting a cigarette. “Get on with it.”

You instantly glared at him, not knowing what had gotten into him. John was obviously distraught and exhausted, and yet he treated him like dirt.

Polly glared along with you, putting a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “What’s troubling you?”

John took a shaky breath, fiddling with the box of matches in his hand, toothpick hanging from his lips and eyes red from tears and the lack of sleep. “Polly, you know what it’s been like since Martha died.”

Polly nodded, doing the sign of the cross and looking up into the ceiling. “God takes the best first.”

John’s leg bounced under the table with anxiety. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, telling him to go on. “Well, the truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me. Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours.”

You looked at him with sympathetic eyes as he spoke, knowing more than anyone how exhausted he was. You wanted to keep helping him, but you couldn’t be with them at all hours every day anymore, as you had picked up a job as a nurse that would be taking time out of your days.

But Tommy didn’t seem to understand at all what he was getting at, only giving him an uninterested look and motioning to his aunt. “Pol, give him ten bob, some shoes.” He then turned to his younger brother, quirking a brow. “Is that it, John?”

“Tommy, we’d be better doing this without you.” Polly scoffed, before turning to John. “Now, what’s you point?”

John cleared his throat, straightened himself up and speaking in a much louder and cleared voice. “What the kids need is a mother. So, that’s why I’m getting married.”

Arthur and Polly shared a hesitant glance, looking between you and John with slightly narrowed eyes as they tried to figure the whole situation out.

Suspiciously, Arthur asked. “Does this poor girl know you’re going to marry her or are you going to spring it on her all of a sudden?”

“I’ve already proposed to her and she said ‘yes’.” John nodded, and when he looked at you for confirmation, to which you put a comforting hand on top of his while offering a smile, it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room.

With the suspicions that had been going around your inner circle in the last year, with the way you had been taking care of John and the children, everyone thought the same thing, and Tommy could feel his heart breaking in his chest right then and there.

Like so many times before, he found himself wishing he’d told you about his feelings before he left for France. But it was too late now.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, only leaning his arms forward on the table and looking down, hurrying to take a drag of his cigarette in a desperate attempt to rid himself of some of the anxiety that was quickly building up inside of him.

But it did absolutely nothing to soothe him.

Polly and Arthur both looked at the two of you with wide eyes and flabbergasted expressions.

“I-“ Polly paused, blowing out a breath and shaking her head slightly. “I guess we’ve been suspecting this for a while but we… We were never really certain.”

Arthur looked confused as ever, looking between you, John and Tommy, who was still glaring into the table. “Aye, always thought you had something going on with Tommy boy before we left.”

You and John both whipped your heads around to face each other, eyes growing wide at the realization of what they were saying, catching on immediately, but you were more shocked about what Arthur had said about you and Tommy.

While John looked at Polly with a horrified expression, you simply turned to watch Tommy with widened eyes, only then realizing the way he was glaring into the table.

“What?” John questioned, looking around at everyone in the room with a bewildered expression. “You thought- You thought I meant (Y/N)?”

Arthur and Polly shared a confused glance. “Didn’t you? We just assumed...”

“With he way she’s been ‘elping you…” Arthur joined in, both distraught.

At that, you pulled your eyes away from Tommy and exclaimed together with John.

“No!”

While John only shook his head violently, you scrunched up your nose. “That’s disgusting.”

At any other time, John would have for sure made a comment to that, but now he could only nod along. “We’ve been best friends since we were sixteen. I love ‘er like my sister.”

“Then who are you talking about?” Polly was even more confused now.

John looked to you, and you nodded to him, urging him to tell them.

“It’s Lizzie Stark.” He told them. “(Y/N) and I have never and will never be anything other than friends.”

By now, Tommy had looked up again, and you could feel his stare burning into your face, causing you to turn to meet his eyes.

He wanted to comment his brother’s choice of fiancée, but the only thing on his mind right then was you.

He had never experienced a panic like the one he had felt in the moment he thought you were the one marrying his brother. Not even the war could begin to compare to it.

And everyone else were just as relieved, finally not having to deal with Tommy’s sulky and bitter attitude now that he got another chance to come clean to you about his feelings.

John, however, as he had never thought about his older brother seeing you in a romantic way, only looked confused, eyes flickering between the people in the room. “Why did you think Tommy and (Y/N) was a thing?”

Polly and Arthur exchanged another glance, before turning to look at you and Tommy who had yet to look away from each other. John did the same, and realization finally lit up on his face, followed by narrowed eyes.

“Wait a minute…”

But before he could say anything else, Polly had whisked him out of his seat, clapping her hands and beginning to move out of the room. “Right.” She said. “I think we better let these two have some privacy. Go on, out you go.”

“But I-“ John tried to protest, but he was quickly pushed out of the room when Arthur joined his aunt’s side, the two managing to stop him from re-entering together and the oldest Shelby brother only smirking at the two of you before closing the doors, leaving you alone.

But neither of you had noticed any of it, as you were still starring into each other’s eyes.

Tommy’s face was a lot more relaxed now, the cigarette almost burned all the way to his fingers as he had forgotten all about it.

You could see it then in his eyes, the hidden feelings he had harbored for you for so long, just like you had for him. You had always felt some kind of connection with him, ever since you started hanging out alone when John first started courting your sister.

But even then, you had been too self-conscious and insecure to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, your opinion always being that he could get better.

He was Thomas bloody Shelby, for Christ’s sake; he could get anyone he wanted with a simple smile.

Yet, you couldn’t understand how you hadn’t seen it before, the memories of the countless of times you had caught him staring at you absentmindedly when you were younger now coming rushing back to the surface as you relived each and every one of those moments all in one.

Reality suddenly came crashing down, and you finally realized how different everything had been since they came back from the war.

Before the war, despite John still having been your best friend, it was Tommy who had kept you company each and every day. When he came back, you should have seen the impact the war had had on him.

But you had just been so caught up in keeping John sane that you had barely even acknowledged him during the whole year.

The realization filled you with guilt and caused a heavy frown to rise to your face, which instantly had you looking down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing you could say, looking back up slowly to see Tommy looking at you with a confused expression.

“For what?”

You gave him a sad look. “For denying you my support when you came back. You needed it just as much as John did, and I should have seen it. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a small, sad smile, finally letting the cigarette go, crushing it onto the ashtray in front of him. “I suppose it’s mostly my fault. If only I’d told you before I left, maybe things would have been different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But still, you wanted to hear him say it, asking in a shaky breath. “Well, do you have anything to tell me now?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, before finally standing up, straightening his jacket and walking over to you.

You wasted no time in standing up to meet him, your breathing becoming heavier with the proximate position you were now in, your eyes locked together and faces so close your noses were only inches away from touching.

With patronizingly slow movement, he reached out a hand and tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear, his hands then coming to rest on your cheeks. And with a concentrated expression, he finally spoke.

“I love you, (Y/N). I have ever since we first met.”

Your lips tugged into a wide smile and you instinctively leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his as your hands came up to cup the hands on your cheeks. “I love you too, Thomas Shelby.”

A smile to match your own appeared on his face, and only a second later, your lips were pressed together.

The kiss was short and sweet, years’ worth of bottled up emotion spilling out in that one moment and leaving you weak at the knees.

Only when you pulled away did you notice the way his whole body was shaking lightly, a frown instantly rising to your face as you squeezed your hands tighter to his.

“You’re trembling.” You spoke in a mere whisper.

But it was loud enough for him to hear, getting him to let out a short laugh. “John’s engagement announcement gave me quite a scare.”

You laughed along with him, blushing slightly and cringing at the thought of people actually thinking you and John were a thing.

Tommy grew serious once again, caressing your cheeks gently with a small frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

But you could only shake your head with a wide smile, not able to care about anything other than him in that moment.

“It doesn’t matter.” You told him. “In the end, things that are meant to be always finds its way. It took time, but it was sure worth the wait.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #finn shelby #john shelby #polly gray #john shelby x reader

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 3 years

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The Goonies: The Story

So, considering that this is a charming children’s adventure movie about a bunch of kids trying to save their town, opening up with a jailbreak is kind of an unusual move, but I’ll say this: at least it gets your attention.

The movie starts outside a prison, where one of the inmates, Jake Fratelli, (Robert Davi) has faked his own suicide, tricking the guard in order to knock him out and make a break for it. Outside, his brother Francis (Joe Pantoliano) and his mother (Anne Ramsey) are ready with the getaway car. Jake gets in, and Mama Fratelli peels out. The cops give chase, and the Fratellis zoom through the town of Astoria, Oregon to evade them, passing:

Andy Carmichael (Kerri Green), a cheerleader practicing on a football field…

Clark “Mouth” Devereaux (Corey Feldman) watching a car chase on television while helping his father fix a sink…

Stefanie “Stef” Steinbrenner (Martha Plimpton), washing her hair in a barrel on the pier…

Richard “Data” Wang (Ke Huy Quan), testing out his latest invention…

And finally, Lawrence “Chunk” Cohen (Jeff Cohen), enjoying a slice of pizza and a milkshake, and immediately becoming enthralled by the car-chase.

The Fratellis lose the police and get away, scot free, as the camera pans away, cutting to a big white house, in which Michael “Mikey” Walsh (Sean Astin), complains that nothing ever happens around here, making himself feel better about the sad fact that his family is moving away from Astoria. His brother, Brandon “Brand” Walsh (Josh Brolin) continues exercising, admitting that he knows how Mikey feels.

A knock at the door brings the boys downstairs, opening the door to Mouth, who immediately begins bemoaning that they’re not doing anything on “their last weekend together…last Goonie weekend”. Following him is Chunk, who begins describing the police chase to the others, but, as he has a history of telling tall tales, the others don’t buy it. Meanwhile, Data zip-lines into the house from next door, and just like that, the gang’s all here.

This is all within the first ten minutes of the movie.

I usually wait until we’re further along in the film to stop our summary, but I want to point out some of the really interesting things that happened right away, setting up almost everything about to come:

First, that opening. I pointed out how unusual it is to start off a kid’s adventure movie with a jailbreak and a police chase, but, besides setting up the Fratellis for later, it also served as a great brief introduction to a ton of characters, whose personalities we’re beginning to see fleshed out here: Data as the Gadgeteer, Chunk as the excitable boy who cried wolf, and Mouth as a kid who’s not quite as cool as he wants to pretend he is. We know all of this, got all of these characters here, found out about their houses being foreclosed on: and the movie has just started.

This is an excellent example of pacing, keeping the audience engaged without wasting any time, but furthermore, it’s also a master-class in introducing characters without it getting confusing: each kid, as he appears, brings with him the brief flash of recognition: we’ve seen him before, and we know something about them in order to help them stick. It’s a genius tactic, and the film reaps the rewards of it throughout the entire rest of the film.

As the boys bemoan their houses being foreclosed on and their inevitable move, Mrs. Walsh comes home with a new housekeeper, Rosalita, who doesn’t speak a word of English. Thankfully (or not) Mouth does, and proceeds to abuse his skill ‘translating’ Mrs. Walsh for the sake of comedy. This is a throwaway joke, yes, but it is important that he knows Spanish. Keep it in mind.

Mrs. Walsh and Rosalita depart again to do some shopping before the move, and Mrs. Walsh instructs Brand to not let Mikey outside because of his asthma.

The instant Mrs. Walsh leaves, the boys stampede up into the attic, apparently undeterred by the veto of any outdoor activities. It turns out that Mr. Walsh is the curator of the Astoria museum, and as a result, there’s all kinds of old odds and ends cluttering up the Walsh attic, some items that the Goonies think are pretty cool: pirate hats, steering wheels of old ships, swords, clothes, and other stuff. During the exploration of the attic, Mikey stumbles upon an old picture frame, inside which appears to be a treasure map. Handing the frame to Chunk (and waiting the few seconds for him to inevitably drop and break it), Mikey pulls out the parchment: the treasure map of One-Eyed Willy.

One-Eyed Willy, as it turns out, is a topic that Mikey happens to be an expert on.

Mikey tells the others the legend of One-Eyed Willy, a pirate who sailed his ship into Astoria, on the run from the Spanish Armada, where he, and his treasure, remained buried after he killed his entire crew and set up a series of traps in order to protect the treasure forever. While Mikey is telling them this story, the boys stumble upon something else: a newspaper article about a man named Chester Copperpot, who claimed to ‘have the key to One Eyed Willy’, right before he disappeared.

Before there can be much discussion on what this means, the doorbell rings, and after pocketing a doubloon that had been hidden in the same frame as the treasure map, Mikey and company go downstairs to answer the door.

At the door are two men with foreclosure papers, who drop them off for Brand to give to their father to sign before leaving, already remarking about the buildings about to go in over the Goonies’ houses.

Back inside, Mikey bemoans the fact that One-Eyed Willy’s treasure would sure be helpful in paying to keep their houses, but Brand’s not having any of it. He can’t afford to let Mikey run loose, he’d get grounded, not with his date with Andy (the cheerleader from before) coming up, which he can’t drive to because he failed his license test.

The Goonies, undeterred, jump Brand and tie him to his chair with his own exercise equipment and make a run for it, while Mouth lets the air out of Brand’s bike tires so he can’t follow them.

Some time later, Mrs. Walsh and Rosalita return to free Brand, but it’s too late: Mikey and Company are already well on their way to another Goonie adventure. Brand eventually frees himself and steals Data’s sister’s tiny pink bike to go after them. In the process, he runs into Troy, the son of one of the guys who’s foreclosing on them, with Andy and Stef. After a dangerous moment involving Troy’s establishing character moment (running Brand off the road), Brand manages to get away and continues searching for the boys.

Meanwhile, the Goonies use the map to figure out that it’s guiding them to the coast, where Mikey holds up the doubloon, finding that it’s markings (Three holes) match a trio of landmarks, concluding that they must be in the right place. Mouth translates the map, and the boys follow it up to an old abandoned summer restaurant.

As they approach it, they see two men in trenchcoats enter. Assuming this means the place must be open after all, the boys follow, continuing to count paces until they hear two gunshots. After convincing themselves that it was probably nothing and certainly wasn’t gunshots, they approach the window and peek through. Meanwhile, Chunk has spotted the car parked in the garage and recognizes it from the police chase he saw that morning: riddled with bullet holes. Realizing the danger that they’re in, Chunk starts trying to convince the others to make a run for it, but the others, knowing what Chunk is like, ignore him and drag him into the restaurant.

The Fratellis make a show of being actual employees of the restaurant (aside from Mama Fratelli threatening to cut Mouth’s tongue off, which, to be honest, he had coming), before Mikey manages to get away to look around. While wandering around the basement, Mikey pulls the map out and tries to figure out what to do next. His train of thought is interrupted by a loud roaring sound: going over to one of the rooms, he sees Jake Fratelli singing to…something, chained to a chair.

Mikey, understandably frightened, freaks and runs back upstairs, where he runs into Brand, who’s finally caught up with him. He and the rest of the Goonies are promptly kicked out by Mama Fratelli, and outside, the boys try to convince Brand to let them stay and explore. From a safe distance, the Goonies watch the Fratellis carry something out in a bag (a body-sized bag), and Chunk again tries to convince the gang to go home.

“Mikey, Mikey, come on, our parents are worried. It’s dinnertime. Why don’t we go home?”

“Home? What home? In a couple more hours, it ain’t gonna be home anymore. Come on, guys, this is our time. Our last chance to see if there really is any rich stuff. We’ve got to.”

After Mikey’s compelling speech, Stef and Andy jump out of nowhere to scare them, and just like that, the gang’s all here.

With the Fratellis gone, the Goonies head back inside the restaurant to look around, with Andy convincing Brand to let them stay so they can spend more time together. Mikey tells the others about the ‘It’ he found in the basement, and he leads the Goonies down to get a look at it. They take one look and, scared off, the kids close the door on the ‘monster’ and rush off to another corner of the basement, where they discover a secret tunnel under the fireplace. While they’re there, Data discovers a counterfeit money machine, and Stef finds a newspaper that includes the names and pictures of the Fratellis. The boys recognize them, and for the first time, get an idea of exactly how dangerous the situation is.

Chunk, feeling vindicated, berates the group for not believing him, before he’s interrupted by the smell of ice cream. Following his nose to the freezer, Chunk discovers a stash of ice cream: and also a body. This, combined with the sounds of the Fratellis arriving upstairs, send the kids into a bonafide panic. They shove the corpse back into the freezer (and Chunk too), and hide in the tunnel under the fireplace.

The Fratellis come down into the basement and notice a water-cooler that Chunk had broken. Thankfully, they think it must be the creature they had chained up, and go to investigate, giving Chunk the chance to get out of the freezer and go for the police, while the rest of the kids head into the tunnels.

Chunk manages to get out of the restaurant and out to the main road, where he flags down an approaching car, spewing everything he knows about the Fratellis: only to discover that, of course, the car is being driven by the Fratellis. They throw him in the back with a stiff (the same one from the freezer), and immediately turn the car around, heading back to the restaurant. Once there, the Fratellis begin to interrogate Chunk, with the handy assistance of a blender for incentive. Being told to spill his guts, he immediately breaks down crying and tells them that the Goonies went down into the fireplace, but the Fratellis don’t believe him. After threatening him again, Chunk, not made of the strongest stuff, immediately tells the Fratellis every bad thing he’s ever done.

Meanwhile, Andy, apparently unable to take the strain, has a minor breakdown after finding a human skeleton crushed underneath what appears to be a booby trap. After searching his wallet, the group discovers that it’s the body of Chester Copperpot: the man who said that he had the key to One-Eyed Willy. Approximately half of the group dissolve into hysterics: if an ‘expert’ like Chester Copperpot couldn’t survive, what are the odds of a handful of kids making it?

Mikey, undeterred, takes from Copperpot’s possessions a handful of candles (dynamite) and a skull-shaped key. Data, in order to make sure nobody follows them, heads to the rear to set up booby traps to make sure they aren’t followed without them knowing. Mikey accidentally sets off one of the booby traps already set by the pirate crew, and the Goonies, in what has to be the one-hundredth near-miss of the day, escape just in time. While they catch their breath, Brand accidentally startles a nest full of (fake looking) bats, which fly past them, and explode out of the fireplace in the room where Chunk is being interrogated.

Realizing that Chunk was telling the truth, the Fratellis tie him up and leave him in a room with the It, and head down into the tunnels after the Goonies, and, more importantly, the treasure, which Chunk also told them about.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Goonies continue through the tunnels into a cave with a waterfall, where the ground is covered in coins. At first, the kids are elated, thinking they’ve found the treasure, but it turns out they’re underneath a wishing well, and the coins are just loose change thrown in over the years. Aboveground, Troy and his friends, who are hanging out by the wishing well, discover that Andy herself is down there, as well as the rest of the Goonies. The Goonies persuade him to help them up via the wishing well bucket, but as they begin to make their ascent, Mikey stops them, saying that they’ve already gotten further than Chester Copperpot.

“Don’t you realize? The next time you see sky, it’ll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it’ll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the bestest stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what’s right for them. Because it’s their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it’s our time. It’s our time down here. That’s all over the second we ride up Troy’s bucket.”

The Goonies decide to press onward, and send up in the bucket Andy’s jacket instead, officially branding her a Goonie.

Meanwhile, Chunk discovers the It in the room he’s trapped with: Sloth, the Fratellis’ deformed brother. After another screaming fit, Chunk manages to throw Sloth a candy bar, a Baby Ruth that he’s had with him. In order to reach it, Sloth tears the chains binding him right out of the walls, freeing him, and then Chunk. Now released, Chunk goes to place a call to the police station to try to let them know what’s going on, but just like earlier on, Chunk’s stories have given him a reputation, and the cops don’t believe him. Chunk’s connection is lost, and after Sloth begins lowering himself into the fireplace to go after his family, Chunk, unwilling to abandon his new friend, follows suit.

In the tunnels, Mikey, Mouth and Data take another look at the map and the key that Mikey found, trying to figure out what to do next. Mouth’s translation of the words on the map lead Mikey to spot a series of rocks protruding from the tunnel. He fits the key to them, and turns it, setting off yet another booby trap. Data falls through a trap door that opens underneath him, only saved by his ‘Pinchers of Peril’. Dangling through the trap door, Data spots a new opening in the tunnel.

Once the Goonies safely move down into the tunnel, they take a break from adventuring (a break that is mostly important because Andy tries to score a first kiss with Brand. In what is the best example for why you should always do it with your eyes open, she gets Mikey instead, without realizing), which is cut short by the Fratellis, who have caught up. Now in an outright chase, the Goonies book it across a log that is suspended over a stream. Data leaves behind an oil slick from his ‘Slick Shoes’, which stalls the Fratellis while the group presses onwards into another room with a skeleton organ.

The group flips the map over to discover that there are musical notes written on the map, and luckily, Andy has taken piano lessons, though she’s a little rusty. Although she makes a few mistakes, causing the floor to start to crumble away, she manages to play it well enough to open the passage at the end of the room. The Goonies tumble through and land in a giant waterslide which drops them into a lagoon where there waits the pirate ship of One-Eyed Willy. The Goonies climb aboard and explore, uncovering one or two more booby traps, and finally, a secret room where the skeleton of One-Eyed Willy sits at a table, surrounded by tons of gold and jewels. Mikey shares a moment with Willy alone, dubbing Willy the first Goonie:

“Hi Willie. I’m Mike Walsh. You’ve been expecting me, haven’t you? Well I made it. I beat you. I got here in one piece… so far.”

The crew starts loading up from everywhere except a scale, loaded with treasure at the center of the table, which Mikey tells everyone not to take from. That, he says, belongs to Willy.

Just as the kids finish stuffing their pockets, shirts, (in Mouth’s case, his mouth) and marble bags, the Fratellis enter, armed and dangerous, and force the kids onto the deck. Data, proclaiming that he won’t be taken alive, tries to fight them off with his gadgets, but ultimately, the kids are forced to turn out their pockets, shirts, and even Mouth is forced to spit out his string of pearls and handful of jewels. Mama Fratelli ties the kids’ hands together before starting to make them walk the plank, starting with shoving Andy overboard, which prompts Brand to dive in after her. Mama Fratelli next pushes Mouth and Stef (who have decided to quit arguing and bickering with each other now that they’re about to die together) out onto the plank, but before she can push them in too, Sloth and ‘Captain’ Chunk appear. Sloth rescues Stef and Mouth and then takes on the rest of his family while the rest of the Goonies untie themselves and dive overboard to make a swim for it. In unimportant and mildly related news, Brand and Andy share a first kiss, prompting them to realize that she got Mikey the first time.

Meanwhile, Sloth ties up his brothers and tosses his mother overboard, diving in after the Goonies while his mother climbs back aboard the ship and releases her sons, heading for the loot. Showing none of Mikey’s restraint, she takes some of the gold from the scales at the center of the table, triggering one last booby trap: causing the cave to start to collapse.

The Goonies head for the cave wall, using one of the sticks of dynamite to blow a hole large enough for them to squeeze through. With Sloth holding the path open so that the Goonies can get through, the kids escape, reluctantly leaving Sloth behind while he goes to save his family. One-Eyed Willy’s ship, still affected by the trap, pulls up its anchors and starts to head out of the lagoon.

The Goonies, wet and worse for wear, but safely on the beach, are spotted by a few cops (one of which is played by director Richard Donner), who call it in. Soon enough, the kids are surrounded by parents, grandparents, and various other family members (many of whom are played by actual cast members’ families), all of whom are happy that their children are alive and well, if a bit disheveled. Brand has brought Mikey home safely, Chunk’s family brings him a pizza, Data’s father, evidently as much of an inventor as he himself is, embraces his son, and Mouth and Stef make up, displaying some feelings towards each other that aren’t blatant aggression. Andy shares a heartfelt talk with Mikey, and happily prepares to head off into the sunset with Brand. Mikey apologizes to his father:

“Sorry, Dad, we had our hands on the future, but we gave it up just to save our own lives.”

Everyone’s home safe, breathing a collective sigh of relief, when the Fratellis (Sloth included!) show up.

After Chunk convinces the cops that Sloth is a good guy, the Fratellis are led away in handcuffs. Chunk tells Sloth that he’s going to take care of him now.

“Sloth, you’re gonna live with me now. I’m gonna take care of ya, ’cause I love ya.”

Just as it looks like things are winding down, Troy’s father, Mr. Perkins, (and Troy himself) show up to force Mr. Walsh to sign the foreclosure papers, completely ignoring the fact that he just now found his missing kids. Reluctantly, Mr. Walsh prepares to sign, but before he does, Rosalita, the housekeeper, stumbles upon Mikey’s marble bag, full of jewels.

Mouth manages to translate fast enough to stop Mr. Walsh from going through with it. The marble bag is emptied out, revealing enough of a fortune to save the Goondocks. Mr. Walsh tears up the papers, and One-Eyed Willy’s pirate ship, breaking free of the lagoon, floats off in the distance as the Goonies, and Sloth, gather together and cheer.

The End.

So….that’s The Goonies.

So what?

All in all, the movie, on paper, doesn’t seem very special. There’s not much by way of ‘plot’ past the initial setup. It sounds like a concept film on a roller coaster, without much in twists and turns. It moves very quickly, from scene to scene to scene (I didn’t even cover all of it), one after another in a way that progresses the story, but doesn’t really add to it. That’s not even mentioning all of the very lucky coincidences and oddities, such as the pirates building a water slide into the caves, apparently, or the fact that, throughout the story, everything just seems to work out for the main characters.

This isn’t to say that’s a bad thing.

On the contrary, the movie is an exciting, fun ride from beginning to end. But as far as the plot goes, it may be a little hard to see where the charm is in this story that seems like Indiana Jones for kids.

Here’s the thing about The Goonies.

The story is rock solid in its simplicity, in its initial setup. Four kids who care about each other very much are about to be separated, and in a desperate grab to prevent it, go treasure hunting, racing against a criminal family after the same thing for selfish reasons. The rest: Sloth, booby traps, ‘Goonies Never Say Die’, etc. is all trimmings, icing on the cake of a basic story that, boiled down to its essentials, is extremely bare-bones. Even in practice, there isn’t much added to it: there are no real character subplots that tie into the main story, just minor things: Chunk finally being believed, Data proving himself a capable inventor, Mouth and Stef’s bickering growing into mild mutual respect, even Brand and Andy’s romance doesn’t really add up to directly influence the story much at all.

But that’s the stuff we remember, almost as well as the bone organ, or the first time the kids see the pirate ship. The question is, why?

The Goonies is not a mind-blowing story. It’s very basic, with less twists and turns than many contemporary kids movies, but in the end, that’s the brilliance of it.

I don’t need a long, drawn out reason for why Mikey’s father has a map in his attic. I don’t need to know what brought these oddballs together, or where Data gets the stuff for his inventions. The movie cuts right to the car chase, introduces you to the main characters, and throws you into their plight immediately. And although the problem is more small scale than plenty of other adventure films, it’s incredibly high stakes, at least, to the main characters.

The idea of losing your home to foreclosure, while not a reality for everyone, is something that an audience can instantly relate to: you don’t want to be separated from where you are, and Mikey’s passion for staying together is such that he drags his friends into a life-risking adventure to save the Goondocks. As an audience, we understand that this is maybe a little extreme, but we go with it, because it makes sense to him, and therefore, it makes sense to us. The Fratellis are incredibly easy to grasp as villains: they do nothing but bad things (albeit often in humorous ways), including mistreating Sloth, who again, is simply presented as a victim. There are no moral ambiguities in The Goonies, no moments of decision beyond ‘go forward or quit’. Once the Goonies discover where the treasure might be, the story is launched on a forward trajectory with no signs of stopping until the very end, when, of course, the Goondocks are saved, and the Goonies themselves return safely to worried parents.

You can describe the plot in a sentence, and there’s no deviation from it: kids trying to save their homes by finding a buried treasure before a criminal family does.

And yet, it works perfectly in its simplicity. Like I said, you understand exactly why the main characters do what they do, and you understand who they are, nearly immediately. The story doesn’t need to go into explaining it, or the characters, as it goes along, merely to build upon what’s already there. That forward trajectory allows the story to always keep moving, keep pushing characters forward with chases, booby traps, lucky stumbles, and so much happening at all times that it’s easy to go along for the ride, enjoying the little moments added onto the basic premise like the wishing well scene, iconic because it directly attaches to Mikey’s goal and is a turnaround point for a few characters. Nothing changes here, but things are reinforced: the initial goal and motivations, and the decision to keep moving. When Chunk meets Sloth and follows him into the tunnels, nothing feels like it’s changing, exactly, except his actual physical movement, going forward instead of retreating.

There is no ‘switching gears’ in The Goonies. Everything pushes forward, building until the climax, and the near instant the goal is achieved, the movie is over. We don’t need to see, (as much as we might like to) Sloth moving in with Chunk, or Data’s next invention, or Brand and Andy’s relationship’s next step, or even Mikey’s next Goonie adventure, because that story is over. We can close the book on these kids, and although sometimes it’d be nice to know what happened to them years later, we don’t need a winddown of a conclusion. All we need to know is that they kept their houses and stayed together.

Again….why?

Why do we care so much about these kids? It’s not like they changed, or grew as people. There’s no ‘Hero’s Journey’ for Mikey, he gets what he wants and throws away his inhaler. He never changes goals, never overcomes a character flaw. If most good stories are dictated by dynamic characters who change, it seems like The Goonies falls flat.

From beginning to end, the characters in The Goonies seem to end the film the exact same way that they started: Mikey’s an idealistic leader, Mouth’s a loudmouth, Data’s an ‘absent-minded professor’ type, and Chunk is a boisterous, easily-panicked kid. There are subtle differences, sure, like Chunk becoming a braver person and Data proving his inventions, even Mouth settles down a little, but for the most part, there’s no arc, no beginning, middle and end, no big changes that show what all has happened and how it affects each one of them.

Because it doesn’t have to.

We care about these kids because they, and the story, are simple, without being stupid, and easily grasped. Everything in this film is tailored for quick accessibility: grab an idea and move on so we can play with it. As I pointed out with the initial chase scene: instantly, you have an idea of what’s going on, and who each character is. With that in mind, especially with an ensemble cast, ‘character arcs’ don’t matter quite as much.

You can have good stories without good character arcs. Back to the Future is a great example of a protagonist who doesn’t change, but is within a deeply compelling narrative, and in the end, that’s the secret. The plot for The Goonies is deeply compelling, because we as an audience like these kids and don’t want them to lose their home. We want them to stay together, whether it’s from Stand By Me-like nostalgia for old friends, or feelings towards friends we have right now. The goals are rock-solid, and after that, the story is too.

I’m not talking about things like the skull carved into the cave face: I’m talking about the forward trajectory. Every single story beat henceforth is tight and fast-paced, each scene sliding right into the next without any real breaks. It’s a waterslide in its own right, full of excitement and consistent characters and goals, with understandable stakes and villains, and in the end, when the kids make it home safe, achieving their goal by the skin of their teeth, we cheer with them.

As it turns out, the recipe for successful filmmaking isn’t always ‘thought provoking plot + well rounded, dynamic characters’. Sometimes the way to make a good film is ‘simple, interesting plot + simple, likeable characters’.

With that in mind, The Goonies is 100% a classic.

There is a reason that this movie stuck, and it all revolves around the streamlined simplicity of its design. With so little ‘fluff’ getting in the way of the main conflict, the film is free to devote its entire focus to these goals and these characters reaching them. Thanks to this single-minded drive, the film is memorable in everything: iconic characters, great lines, wonderful setpieces, with no part being overshadowed by all of the rest.

It’s not hard to see why this movie became such a milestone for so many. It resonates with people who can find themselves in a specific character or plight, whether children themselves or considerably older, who can allow themselves to be sucked along for the ride and believe, for just a little while, that there’s still such a thing as pirate treasure.

And it’ll continue to resonate for decades to come.

Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please stay tuned to join us for the remainder of our study of The Goonies. Don’t forget that my comment box is always open. Thank you guys so much for reading, and I’ll see you all in the next article!

#1985 #80s #Film #Movies #The Goonies #The Goonies 1985 #Adventure #Comedy #Family #PG #Sean Astin #Josh Brolin #Jeff Cohen #Corey Feldman #Kerri Green #Martha Plimpton #Ke Huy Quan #Richard Donner

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anonymouswriter2311 · 3 years

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The Pastor’s Daughter, Chapter 2

Link

Her fingertips traced over the doorknob, her mind screaming, begging her to change her mind. But she had to know, no she needed to know how it felt. Taking the deepest of breaths, she enters. Her heart is pounding in her ears as she finds Toni waiting for her with that kissable smirk taunting her.

“Took you long enough,” Her voice is deeper - if that was even possible - and her eyes are full of hunger. In one swift movement, she’s pushed me against the door slamming it shut. Her warm breath tickles against my neck, as she reaches behind to lock the door. “I don’t want anyone interrupting this.” She whispers directly into my ear, causing my entire body to shutter.

“Toni…” I whimper, as she runs her thin fingers through my hair, tugging slightly as she rests her hand on my neck.

“Tell me to stop.” She’s so close now, our lips are practically touching as she speaks. But I have no time to respond, as she pushes her knee between my legs, spreading my thighs apart. She bites her lip as I quiver, “I know you want me, Shelby Goodkind...you’re practically trembling for me.” She taunts, as she leans in for a kiss, but serves at the last second choosing to litter kisses all over my neck and exposed collar bone. ‘Sweet Jesus, her lips are so soft.’

“Please...Toni…” I moan as she bites down on my neck, “Sweet Lord.” I sigh.

“Say it. Tell me what you want.” She winks, that assertiveness making me go almost weak at the knees. “Say. It.” Her fingers tiptoe down my thigh, as she reaches to pull at the fabric of my dress. She knows what I want, and she’s more than ready to give it to me...and damn, I’m more than ready to feel her touch me.

“I want you to…”

“Shelby…” She stirred slightly, as her fingers danced along the waistband of her PJ bottoms.

“I want you...Toni.” She mumbled as her fingers dared to disappear under the waistband.

“Shelby Goodkind! If you don’t move your booty, yer gonna be late!” Shelby shot up like a woman possessed. Sweat pellets streaming down her face, as she combed shaky fingers through her hair. ‘What was...no! I can’t! Not again.’

“I’m up! I’m up…” She tried her best to get her breathing under control, as the arousal from her Toni-filled dream continued to surge through her. Shelby had convinced herself time and time again that she’d gotten over these kinds of dreams. That they weren’t an indication of her own perversion, simply just dreams of admiration. But things had never gotten that far, nor that heated in the past. Shelby wasn’t ready to face the world today, and she certainly wasn’t ready to face Toni. Laying back down she grabbed her pillow and placed it over her face, it acting as a muffler as she let out an unladylike scream and kicked her legs violently. “Why her!” She mumbled into the pink pillow, before throwing it across the room.

"Hey, kiddo." Dave knocked as he peaked his head into the room. "Mom's on the warpath this morning, so you might wanna get a wiggle on if ya know what's good for ya." He smiled sweetly, as he took in the oddly disheveled room. “Everything alright, buttercup?”

“Yeah, just a weird dream is all.” Her heart was beating so fast she was convinced her dad could hear it from his place at the door.

“Good. Good...well, don’t slack off now. Don't wanna keep Miss Shalifoe waitin’, now do we?” Shelby’s eyes widened as she pounced at her phone. 8:45 ‘Shit!!!’

***

Toni kicked the curb as she stared at the slowly filling car park. She’d been there since 8:20, armed with two latte’s in hand, but there was no sign of Shelby. Toni was pissed. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t completely surprised at Shelby being a no-show. She could tell how uncomfortable she’d been making her, but that still didn’t stop her. That was always Toni’s problem, she never knew how much was too much, not until it was too late.

Placing the - now cold - coffee’s on the steps she pulled out her phone, 8:50, thirty minutes until first period, Toni never bothered with homeroom, athletes at Hopewell Lake had to maintain an 100% attendance score, only way out was a phone call from your doctor stating that you were dying or some shit, so she never bothered to get marked as present. The steam was practically sweeping from her ears as she forcefully grabbed the two cups and stormed towards the main entrance, violently throwing the full cups into the trash as she passed. 'Last time I do something nice,’ she swore to herself as she headed towards the locker room, she needed to let off steam and fast, before she did something that she’d regret.

***

Shelby was lost. That much was obvious. With her paper timetable in hand, books tucked under her arm and a dazed look plastered on her face as she walked against the flow of student traffic, even the most oblivious could fathom that she was new.

By the time she had arrived at the main entrance that morning, there was no sign of Toni, and even if she had been there, there would have been no time for any kind of tour. While a part of the blonde felt bad for standing her up, on the other hand, she had no idea how she was going to look her in the eye without turning red, after what happened this morning. What she had been doing...it was wrong, on so many levels. Self-pleasure was a big no, no. And a rule Shelby had stuck to...for the most part. Her mind - and fingers - seemed to forget about this rule whenever she'd find herself in a 'nightmare’ like last night. It was unnatural, perverted... so good. No! She mentally scolded herself, she wasn't about to let herself fall down that rabbit hole again. She wasn't gay. She knew this. She was just confused by what she’d saw, fascinated by Toni’s character. Her cockiness, her smug smirk...her eyes, her lips...her soft skin, her athletic physique. Enough! She screamed to herself, just as she collided with another person, sending both her belongings and the other person flying to the ground.

"Oh my lord, I am so sorry," Shelby muttered as she frantically gathered her belongings, before looking over at the stranger she had just assaulted. A cheery grin met her eyes, as the short girl laughed off the whole situation.

"Don't sweat it. I wasn't paying much attention either." The tan-skinned girl shrugged as she picked up a few of Shelby's belongings before standing up with a small jump as if nothing had happened.

“I was in another world, just there.” The blonde smiled nervously as she flung her backpack around and tried to squeeze some of her books in the already filled bag.

“You know you have a locker for that?” The cheery girl raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde.

“If only I knew where it was, it’s my first day.”

“No kidding. I’m Martha, but most people call me Marty.” Martha beamed, as she reached out to take some of the books from Shelby.

“Shelby.” She nodded. “Thanks.” She looked relieved, as she carefully tucked the remaining books under her arm as she dug into her jacket pocket for the small piece of paper with her locker number on it.

"Give it here," Marty smirked as she snatched the paper. “Three down from mine, come on.” She gestured as they joined the correct dying-down flow of traffic.

“This place sure is big,” The blonde mumbled as they walked down the never-ending hallways, that seemed to blend into each other.

“Wasn’t your other school like this?”

“Not even close. The one before it, maybe, not that was quite some time ago.” Shelby shrugged, thinking back on every first day she’s had over the last ten years. Five in total, this one hopefully being her last until college.

“You move around much?” The smaller girl asked over her shoulder before she slowed her pace as they entered a less crowded hallway that allowed them to walk side by side.

“Some. My father is a Pastor, so...we go where the Lord needs him, I guess.” Shelby admitted, watching carefully as Martha smiled at every person they walked by. She had never met someone so...happy before, and she wondered how much of it was real. How much of herself she put away, just like Shelby had been doing for years.

“Sounds like an adventure.” Her eyes sparkled, her mind racing with countless scenarios of how she’d react if it was her in Shelby’s place.

“It can be.”

"That sounds amazing, I've never even so much as left the state," Marty confessed, a small frown gently creeping onto her face for a fleeting second. She'd give anything to travel the world, to wake up in a different place, to meet all kinds of people. But life had other plans. Her parents, her friends...her life was there, and Marty couldn't see herself wanting to give any of that up anytime soon, not even for a second. “Here we are.” She smiled once again as she popped open the empty locker and placed the books she was carrying inside.

“I can’t thank you enough, Martha.” Shelby threw her arms around the stunned brunette, who happily returned the hug. “But...I do have one more, tiny favor to ask.” The blonde smiled shyly as she pulled away, her hand still resting on Marty’s shoulder as she spoke.

“At your service.” She bowed.

“Where the heck is the science block?” She asked as a faint blush crept onto her perky cheeks.

“You poor child, let's get these books shoved away, then we’ll get you where you need to be.” She winked as she took the stack of books from the blonde and placed them with the others.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn't...collided with you.” Shelby laughed nervously as Marty returned the piece of paper with her locker combination.

Looping their arms together, Marty hummed, “You can thank me by buying me a milkshake at lunch.”

“Deal!”

***

Toni was the first to sit at her regular table at lunch, her brown paper bag saving her from the time-consuming queue her friends would be waiting in. Relaxing back into her seat, she lifted her feet to rest on the token free chair at their table. Her body ached from the intense workout she put herself through that morning, the anger that bubbled inside of her forcing her, taunting her to work harder and faster. Closing her eyes as she sunk into her seat, the sound of the busy cafeteria soothed her. She'd always hated the quiet, a painful memory of her early childhood, of being left alone in a small dirty room while her ' mom’ worked up enough money for a box of frozen turkey dinosaurs and a bottle of vodka. It’d been years since she’d seen her, but the memories that remained still haunted her.

Leah was the first to arrive at the table, juggling her lunch tray with one hand as she kept her nose buried in some book that Toni had no interest in. It had been Marty - Toni's best friend since fourth grade - that had invited the bookworm to join their duo, and while she wouldn’t have been Toni’s first choice, she wasn’t the worst person to have around.

“New book?” Toni questioned, she’d been putting the effort into their friendship as of late, now that she was settled with her foster parents of two years.

“‘The Nature Of Her’" She read aloud, as she sat. Her eyes skimmed the remainder of the page before she slipped her bookmark into the spine and set the book aside.

“Any good?” Toni asked with her mouth full of bread and turkey goodness.

"Not sure yet. I'll get back to you." Toni saluted before they both burst out laughing. "No Marty yet?"

“Probably in the milkshake line as we spe-” The shorter froze mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the smiling blonde by her best friend’s side. “You have to be fucking with me.”

“What are we staring at?” The bookworm questioned as she scanned the cafeteria for signs of some kind of disturbance.

"More like who," Toni muttered as she slumped further into the hard plastic seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched their every move.

“New girl? She’s in my English class, she seems nice.” Leah shrugged as she turned back to her plate of pasta, and began to pick out the peppers.

“Yeah, super nice.” The athlete narrowed her eyes as Marty’s laughter drifted over, making her blood boil for the second time that day. Toni didn’t think of herself as possessive, she loved how nice and caring her best friend was, but she wasn’t about to let Shelby flake on her.

Toni’s eyes watched carefully as the pair made their way over to the table, giggling together as they neared the table. And as their eyes finally met, she could see the nervousness build up in Shelby, as she quickly looked away.

"Hey, guys! This is Shelby," Marty excitedly presented the blonde, like that picture of Will Smith with his wife at some awards show. ‘Look at me, I’ve found my very own princess!’ “Shelby, this is Leah, she has literary quotes for every occasion!”

“‘You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.’ Winnie The Pooh.” Leah smiled brightly, taking pride in her vast knowledge of all things literature.

“That’s...quite the talent.” Shelby plastered on a fake smile as she shook Leah’s hand.

“And this.” Marty skipped over to the grumpy brunette and lovingly wrapped her arms around Toni’s neck. “This is Toni, my bestest friend in the entire universe.”

"Is that my only character trait?" Toni joked as she laced her fingers with Marty's, her eyes never leaving Shelby, who uncomfortably acknowledged Toni's presence at the table.

“The only that matters to me.” The tan-skinned girl replied in a sweet sing-song like voice, before placing a small kiss on Toni’s cheek. “Come, sit.” She gestured to the spare seat where Toni’s feet were still resting.

Shelby averted her gaze once again, as she pulled out the chair, forcing Toni's feet to fall to the ground with a thud. But just as she was about to sit, the bitter basketball star pushed against one of the metal legs, sending both the surprised blonde and the chair falling to the ground. On the ground, Shelby looked up at the table in disbelief as Toni peered down, that addictive smirk on her face. "Whoops." She muttered as Marty and Leah jumped up to help her.

“Toni!” Marty hissed, as she helped Shelby back to her feet and grabbed some napkins to clean up the milkshake spilled down her dress.

“It’s hardly like I meant it!” Toni shot back as she moved to pick the chair up and carefully place it behind the embarrassed blonde.

“It’s fine.” Shelby finally spoke, her cheeks a fluorescent pink as she peaked past her messy hair at the three girls staring at her. “No harm done.” She forced a smile onto her light pink lips and slowly sat, taking extra caution.

Toni huffed back into her seat as Marty sent her a warning glare. The basketball star hated that she’d let her anger get the better of her, but she was also slightly impressed that Shelby stayed. It was obviously going to take a lot more than a little trip to get rid of this blonde princess, good thing Toni was an expert at playing the long game.

#Shelby x Toni #Shelby Goodkind #Toni Shalifoe #Shoni #The Wilds #The Wilds ff #Marty Blackburn #Fatin Jadmani #Dot Campbell #Leah Rilke #Rachel Reid #Nora Reid #Internalized Homophobia #Religion #Goodkind Family #lgbt fanfiction #enemies to friends to lovers

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goldandbluesmiles · 4 years

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Joker’s Killer

Chapter 2: A Father’s Rage and it’s aftermath

Summary: In the end, it’s not Batman that kills the Joker. It’s Bruce Wayne.

May 29, 1:19: Bruce Wayne walked into Arkham undetected by any security cameras or guards

May 29, 1:25: Bruce Wayne entered Joker's cell.

May 29, 1:35: A guard realized that the hysterical laughter and gurgling from the clown's cell weren't just for show.

May 29, 1:37: Bruce Wayne was found standing over Joker's body with a steel bar in his hand, Joker's head bashed in.

XXX

Note: This is an A/B/O fic though the only tropes that are focused on are the protective omega parent and bonding.

TW: Non-consensual bonding (It’s an a/b/o fic)

Ao3

Chapter 1

XXX

Joker bit Jason.

Joker bit his boy, his pup.

That monster hurt his son. Again.

Red Rage rose up inside of him.

The monster will never hurt his baby again. The Omega would make sure of it.

His baby would be safe from now on.

The drive took twenty-one minutes and forty-three seconds.

The omega knew how to get around the cameras and guards. Enter from the supply chute, count the seconds between the camera rotations, walk when the guards turn the corner.

The cell was easy enough to get into, he knew the code after all. Make sure the alarms didn't go off. Make sure they click back into place.

The monster greeted him with a smile and a laugh, the pale face twisting in unnatural ways.

The Omega took out the steel bar he had in his sleeve. The joker look at it and laughed mockingly. The omega picked it up and broke the monster's hands first and then his legs. He then moved on to the jaw. The monster was still laughing, the sound coming out in gurgles and gasps.

The monster's head was bashed in next, the blood and bone flying all over the place, the sound of laughing finally started to die down as the door of the cell opened. There were arms holding the Omega back and keeping him down, but he didn't care.

The Red Rage subsided and was replaced with an empty calm.

The monster was gone.

His baby was would be safe now.

XXX

May 29, 1:19: Bruce Wayne walked into Arkham undetected by any security cameras or guards

May 29, 1:25: Bruce Wayne entered Joker's cell.

May 29, 1:35: A guard realized that the hysterical laughter and gurgling from the clown's cell weren't just for show.

May 29, 1:37: Bruce Wayne was found standing over Joker's body with a steel bar in his hand, Joker's head bashed in.

XXX

Detective J. Morales and E. Rosario were the ones to go down and get the report on Bruce Wayne's bloodwork.

"So what's the verdict doc?" asked Julia, "What drove our dear billionaire bonkers?"

"Please, Julia," sighed Estella, older and a little more polite than her younger partner

"What? I'm just saying," said Julia

The ME, Ethan, turned to them with a grim smile.

"There were no drugs," said Ethan, "His hormones spiked first and then stayed that way for a while but then they came down when-"

"And this is where we remind you that not all of us went to med school," said Julia

Ethan smiled, "Right. Uh...it's a little unprecedented. You know the two defences of when omegas take the defence of themselves or their pack?"

"Sure," said Estela, "The first one is where they go 'up' and they go into a rage protecting their pups and sometimes packs, constitutes as temporary insanity,"

"I mean it would make sense," said Julia, "We all know what happened with the Joker and Jason the first time,"

At that, the mood in the room dimmed even more. Jason Todd's disappearance and return might not be the hot topic of the headlines anymore but any person with a half a mind knew that the consequences of it would stay with the family. And with the realization that Joker had hurt Jason again, bitten him, well...who could blame a parent?

"The other one is when they 'retreat' into themselves," said Ethan, "Don't really realize what they're doing and go on autopilot, It's less common but it happens,"

"I've seen it before," said Estella, "Woman got a year's probation and mandatory therapy for running over a guy while driving away from an abusive partner. She was taking the fastest route on autopilot to her mom's house. Poor thing just wanted the baby in the backseat safe,"

"So which one is it here?" asked Julia

"That's where it gets weird," said Ethan, "His hormones are very low now, dangerously low, indicating that he's not all there-"

"So the second one," said Julia

"That's the thing," said Ethan, "We have other indicators that show if someone was recently in a charged state and they're all there,"

"So...?" said Estella

"As we know, the Joker but Jason and Bruce didn't find out until about half-an-hour before he killed the Joker. My assumption is that he got charged, did the deed, once he realized that his pup was 'safe', he retreated into himself,"

"Why?" wondered Julia

"I can't be sure but there are so many things different from the usual cases. For one Jason is an adult but on the other hand, we know what kind of life that kid had so it's pretty understandable that his parent jumped into defence mode. As for the 'retreat', Bruce is a public figure, this might be his mind's way of protecting his pack from the vultures but again that's just speculation,"

"There's no point in assuming things," said Estella, "What do you have to say that we can relay?"

"Officially, this man does not have the capacity to stand trial from a biological standpoint, you should ask a psychologist but I believe they will say the same thing. This man also needs medical care,"

"You said officially," said Julia, "What about unofficially?"

Ethan took a deep breath, "It would be a little early for me to say it and might interfere with the case but this man might need long-term care. Gotham might have to say goodbye to her oldest hero,"

A dark stillness settled in the room. While Gotham's public might speculate, among the police force, the justice system and everybody in between, the identities of Gotham's vigilante family were an open secret.

"May they rest," murmured Julia. She didn't say who, nobody ever said it out loud but the idea, the thought, was there.

May they rest, Gotham's original legend.

XXX

The press conference was held at 10:00 AM the second day after Joker's death.

The day before had been spent by the Wayne siblings, along with Jason's pack, huddled in their nest, barely leaving, eating, sleeping and cuddling under the mountain of blankets. Their pack, the ones less affected, and their friends had taken up their mantles for two nights. Superman had been called in, a few of the arrows, the birds of prey had taken the night and Bluebird had also stayed out, giving Bruce's kids the time they needed. Barbara made sure to coordinate them efficiently. Martha Kent and Diana watched over the family, making sure Alfred spent time with his grandchildren, and not working himself to the bone in the kitchen.

Early on the day of the press conference, Alfred took his second grandchild aside and quietly spoken with him.

"You don't have to do this, my boy," he told Jason, "No one will blame you for waiting to do this or not doing it at all. Someone else can handle it. We could even do a private interview with friends in the profession if you are really intent on telling your story,"

"No," whispered Jason, "They will still speculate. I want this to be done as open as possible and then put a cork in it. This way they can't come up with their own ideas,"

"If you're sure," said Alfred

Jason nodded and Alfred gently hugged him close, wishing with everything inside of him that his own son was here to comfort his child. Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed under guard, waiting for the courts to decide his fate.

The press conference was held in a room on the WE building to be able to keep some control over the event and to keep Jason at ease. The commissioner was also present to carry on the conference once the siblings were done.

Dick was the one who went up first, introducing them as his five siblings, Kate, Selina and Alfred stood behind him.

"We are here today, not to talk about the incident but to give you context as to what lead to the incident happening. We want to clear any misconceptions and make sure the public knows that the Wayne family is handling this situation with the utmost decorum,"

"That said, most of this story will be told by my brother Jason, and it will be a difficult experience. If you could please listen first and keep your questions until the end,"

Dick backed away and gave Jason's shoulder a squeeze as the other man stepped up.

"Good Morning Gotham," said Jason, "As you know, due to previous stories, that I was kept from my family for some time during my teen years and that the fault was with the Joker. That story had been told many times, and I will not repeat it. I would instead like to talk about what happened three weeks ago, the last time Joker escaped,"

"The Joker captured me along with 16 other hostages that were in that store with me when he came in. We do not know if he had found me by chance or if e was looking to trap me somewhere and plays some more. About ten minutes into the situation, he took me to the backroom and-

Jason stuttered there, a lump forming in his throat. Still, he swallowed and continued.

"He-um- he took me to- to the back room and told me he was going to...that he was going to-to bite me."

There was a murmur around the room but died again as Jason continued.

"After giving me the bite, he insisted that I," deep breath, "that I bite him too,"

This time when Jason stopped the silence was deafening, no one had the heart or the presence of mind to say anything.

"A you can imagine, my first reaction was to refuse but he threatened the other hostages and to prove a point, went out and shot one of the women in the leg. He also kept physically assaulting me as he told me what he would do to the rest of the hostages if I refused. I finally agreed to the bite and Batman came around five minutes later. I was able to go home to a private doctor and due to confidentiality was able to keep the bite from my family. On the day of the Joker's death, I was having lunch with my father when he spotted it. One thing led to another, and I ended up telling him where it came from. He got quiet and left me at the table. Not understanding what had happened, I let him go and went back to my place where one of my friends was also keeping me company. I didn't know about Joker's death until I saw the news that evening,"

Jason took a small breath after that.

"And now we are here," said Jason, "Are there any questions? Yes?"

"Why did you not tell your family immediately?"

"As you can imagine I was in shock and felt violated and since they could not do anything about it, I didn't think it necessary to let them know. Next? Yes?"

"Why not follow your father after he left you at lunch? Did you not think his behaviour was a little odd?"

"It is not odd for my father to walk away from a conversation, when upset, to calm down. I really didn't think anything so drastic would happen. I just wanted to get home,"

"Can you comment on anything pertaining to the investigation? About the mental state of the accused?"

Commissioner Gordon could see Jason's composure slipping and stepped up.

"Due to the time available, I think it is time that I took over. I can answer any questions you have on the investigation this far,"

No longer finding any reason to hold back due to the fragile mental state of one of Gotham's prominent omegas, the crowd of reporters burst forth with questions.

Jason didn't pay them any mind. Instead, he let Dick and Alfred lead him out of there as his siblings followed. Through the back of the room, Roy and Kori were waiting and they instantly took him in their arms.

"You okay, Jaybird?" murmured Roy

Jason just pressed his face into his shoulder and whimpered.

"Let's get you home," said Dick, laying a hand on his back

Yes. Home. That sounded nice.

He nodded and they carefully started to move away to the exit.

Behind them, Gordon was still talking to the press, explaining to them what he could. In the coming days, there would be more of these as Gordon gave more to the waiting public but Jason wasn't going to have anything to do with those.

Slowly, his family would help him heal from these scars too. And they would heal from the aftermath of them.

#Jason Todd #bruce wayne #batman #omega bruce wayne #omega jason todd #abo dynamics

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srprincess · 4 years

Text

Guess what!?! It’s Fictober time again! So – new prompts, but I’m still out here (making an attempt at) finishing my same old fic.

Prompt 1 – “No, come back!” // fandom – omgcp // fic rating – T for language reasons

Notes: This is actually chapter 19 of the Spookydoo AU I started last fictober. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year. I guess months worth of pandemic related block and a cross country move will tend to slow these sorts of things down, but, yeah – a year. Wow. Back at the start I had thought this was going to be a quick month long project, but here we are! If you’re still following me from way back then, here’s the long promised update. If you’re new this will make NO SENSE without the rest of the story - and honestly only minimal sense after - so I’ll drop a link to the rest of the story on Ao3 in the replies (since tumblr hates links)

---

“Are you sure I don't need to head back and get them?” Will asked, for the third time.

“Nah, they’re resourceful. Quit worrying,” Nursey told him, also for the third time. At least. Maybe he had asked a few too many times.

He, Nursey, Shitty and Lardo were gathered back around the table in his kitchen, while Sammy sat at the edge of the doorway leading into the mudroom, happily chewing on a length of rope that Will had knotted up for her. He didn't have much to offer in the way of snacks while they waited, but he’d managed to scrounge up a bag of not quite stale pretzels and some cold sodas. Not the best spread, but good enough he didn't think his mom’s memory would judge him too harshly under the circumstances. Said circumstances being that these particular guests and their friends had basically wiped out his pantry over the course of their previous visits.

They were waiting, with varying levels of patience, for Holster and Ransom to show up with their lunches, and - maybe more importantly, it depended on who you asked - to tell them what they'd found out about Lou’s place. Or rather the house that she had been...haunting? It was still hard for Will to think about it that way, about his longtime friend being a ghost, but, well, could he deny it anymore? Honestly? It was strange, but if she was a ghost - which she was - and had been staying in and around the house - which she had - what else could you call it other than a haunting? At any rate, finding out the property had been sitting vacant might have explained how it could have had a ghost-in-residence for so long without attracting too much attention, but it opened up a whole other set of questions. Who would leave a house on the water empty for years? Sure, it needed some upkeep, but still, it was a nice enough place in a great spot. Where were the owners? Why hadn’t they been trying harder to sell it? Or failing that, using the property themselves? He also wanted to know more about how Lou had ended up connected to the property, but that was going to have to come from her and not a simple property search. Unfortunately, she hadn't seemed any too eager to talk about her final days when he and Nursey had talked to her earlier.

After his stomach grumbled, Nursey checked the time, again, and sighed.

“I said I could head back in for them,” Will pointed out. “It’s not an issue-”

“Might be a while, but I’m sure they're on the way,” Shitty assured him. “I think they were looking for an excuse to rent that bike, and a ride’ll take them a minute.”

“Not the tandem!” Lardo shook her head, “I thought we talked them out of that.”

“Yes, the tandem, and you tried to talk them out of it. I, on the other hand, might have offered to pay the fee as long as they took pictures.”

“They'll never make it here in one piece on that thing.”

“Oh, ye of little stature and faith, they are perfectly synced. They'll make it fine.”

“Whatever. Then why did you want pictures, hmmm? A 20 says they'll crash and burn at least once.”

“Hopefully they don’t fall on my sandwich,” Nursey muttered under his breath.

“Because Jack can't be the only one with pictures of these trips, that’s why. So, deal?”

“Deal.” Shitty and Lardo were just shaking on the bet when the sound of tires on the rocks outside was followed by a knock at the door. They all turned to look at Will, who looked blankly back before it clicked -

“Oh. Yeah. My house. My door. Best be getting that.” He rushed to the answer, more to hide his blush than out of a hurry to let the two in.

He opened the door to the double whirlwind that was Ransom and Holster pushing through, arms loaded with bags.

Shitty took one look at them before holding his hand out to Lardo. “All in one piece. Well, two pieces. As expected. Pay up.”

“Not so fast,” she told him, attempting to shove his hand away before turning to them. “How did you manage to carry all of that on a bike?”

“No bike,” Ransom told her.

“It was already rented,” Holster added.

“Ha!” She slapped Shitty’s hand down. “No payday for you.”

“You neither,” he pointed out.

“Hmmm. I still say you owe me ten,” Lardo argued.

“The hell I do,” Shitty scoffed back.

“But if they would have ridden the bike they would have fallen, and you know it.”

“Says you. Wrongly.”

“My. What an excellent defense. I can see why you're the high-powered attorney here.” Lardo pulled a face at him before stating her case, “If they had tried to ride that bike they likely would have fallen. If they tried to ride it while holding all those bags, they for sure would have. I see no possible way that they would have made it here safely, and so I still deserve half the original bet winnings.”

“Incorrect,” Shitty took a final sip of his drink and a deep breath before standing. Full attorney mode. “First, both these fine individuals have a history of athletic excellence in a sport known for quick moves requiring great balance skills, coordination and teamwork,” he counted off each point in his hands. “Second, they've been known to safely carry much more than a few bags of food, over unfamiliar terrain, in the dark-”

“Well, I did fall on Rans that one time we-”

Shitty hushed Holster before continuing, “Shhh - You aren't helping the case.”

“Why are we even on trial?” Ransom asked, confused. “Anyways, I remember that. Kind of. You only almost fell, bro, and we were hella fucked up that night.”

“You,” Shitty pointed to Ransom, “are helping. Thank you. As I had said - teamwork. While, errr, shall we say inebriated? They were able to use teamwork to accomplish their goals. Mostly safely. Sober, and in the clear light of day, making it here safely would have been no problem. Thirdly, if the bet had been that they `likely’ would have fallen off the bike with their arms full, I allow that you might have won. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn’t and so you didn’t. In closing, your point is dismissed for being unprovable. Case closed. The End.” He, smugly, picked his cup back up to drain the drink.

“You can't just close the case yourself-” Lardo argued.

“And yet, I have,” Shitty shrugged.

She growled under her breath, “this isn't over,” Lardo pointed at him before asking Ransom and Holster, “So, no bike? How did you get here?”

Will, who had been watching like the exchange like it was the most interesting show he’d seen in years, and, let’s be real, with television as spotty as it was out there it kind of was, turned to them, curious himself to hear the answer.

Nursey, who had been enjoying watching Will watch the others, said, “Probably an Uber.”

“No Uber round these parts.”

“Fine, Lyft, whatever.”

“Nope, don’t have those either,” Will told him. “We do have a Martha, but there’s no way that’s how they got here.”

“What’s a Martha?” Nursey asked.

“She calls herself a taxi service, but truthfully she’s just a busybody who got herself a fair reliable rig and a business license. Let’s her keep up on who’s new around, see what they're about and then give them a mandatory tour of her favorite places. Takes her forever to get anywhere. Guaranteed it would have taken them at least another hour to get out here with her.”

“An hour!? How is this town even big enough to take that long?”

“Well, if you drop her a ’tip’ she's sure to add your place on the route, yeah? Bunch of shops do every year. That's a lot of side roads and loops. Now me? I throw her some money every season to miss The Light entirely. She would have tried stalling and distracting them as long as possible before heading this way.”

“So, don’t take ’a Martha’, noted for future.” Ransom cut in.

“We didn't need to anyway,” Holster told the group. “Did you know, if you order food for delivery, you can get yourself delivered along with it?”

“That's not a-” Nursey started to argue before looking to Will for confirmation. “Is that a thing?”

“No. Definitely not a thing.”

Holster gestured at the bags and then at himself and Ransom, “I do believe it is.”

Will frowned, confused, “You know what...I don’t even think they do delivery at all. Outside of town, leastways.”

“You’d be amazed how far friendliness and a smile can get you,” Holster said, flashing a near alarming display of teeth.

“Maybe you should try that sometime, Poindexter,” Nursey joked.

“Ha fucking ha,” Will said, flashing a smile that veered more towards frightening than not.

“Hope you tipped well,” Shitty told Holster, ignoring the shoulder shoving across the table.

“Pfft, of course dude.”

“Good, then. Now, important business, where’s my sammie?”

A whine came from the doorway.

“Sorry, I meant my sandwich, not you Sammy,” Shitty turned to tell the dog. She sniffed in their direction, clearly looking for attention in the form of food of her own but not wanting to leave her new rope unattended. “But, yeah, her food, where’s it at? Guys?”

But he’d lost the attention of Ransom and Holster. With a nudge and a head tilt to where Nursey’s ankle was practically hooked around Will’s, Ransom smirked at Holster, who in turn sighed and pulled some money out of his pocket to hand it over.

Nursery watched the exchange before he narrowed his eyes. “And what’s this about?”

“What?”

“The money?”

“That? He owed me for the, umm, dog dishes.”

“Yeah, sure he did.”

“Right, Holtzy?”

“Absolutely, the dishes. We were going halfsies. Because, uh, gift?”

Ransom scrunched his face up before he mouthed ’gift, really?’ back at him, but Holster just gave a small shrug.

Nursey still looked doubtful and Shitty, who had given up waiting and was rooting through the bags for himself, distracted them when he asked “Well, where are they?

“Where are what?” Ransom asked.

“The. Dog. Dishes.” he answered slowly and deliberately.

“Shit. Fuck. Damn. I, uh, forgot them?”

“Uh-huh,” Nursey shook his head. “You forgot to bring the dishes. That you just bought. As a gift. Suuuure.”

“Don’t worry about it. So long as you brought the food, I can find something to put it in.” Will got up and dug through a cupboard by the sink that was little more than a jumble of used butter tubs and came up with two bowls.

One bowl he filled with water and set in front of the dog. The other he handed them to Lardo who filled it with some of the food Shitty had found in the bags, leading to a very happy Sammy, who flopped on top of the rope before digging in with enthusiastic messiness.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable? And look at that-” Nursey pointed out the puddles and food pieces spread all around the dog.

“It’s fine,” Will waved him off.

“What about your precious floor? All I did was drip on it the other night and-”

“Oh, let her be. Unlike people, she can’t help it if she makes a silly little mess.” Will ruffled the fur on top of her head. “Besides, she’s a good girl, aren't you Sammy,” Sammy wiggled at the good girl comment and went back to happily working to empty her bowl. Dog mess was fine, Will told himself, nothing he couldn’t clean up later. He wondered if maybe he should consider a dog of his own. The company might be nice. He shrugged off the thought for later and went to wash his hands before grabbing a stack of plates to take to the table.

All business of bets and money exchanges temporarily forgotten, the gang worked as one to pass around the lunches.

A giant sub was split between Lardo and Shitty. She flicked an olive that had stayed to her half at him, which he easily caught with his mouth before flicking a pepper back towards her. When he went to grab a drink, she swiped another pepper and one of his tomato slices too. Ransom passed her his pickle spears, and she gave him half her lettuce. Holster split his bag of BBQ chips and the salt and vinegar ones in front of Ransom between them 50-50. Okay, maybe 60-40. But neither complained. Instead of being split up, a large bag of fries was just torn open and left for each to pick from as they wanted. Ketchup squeezed out onto one of the wrappers that had previously held a wrap. All the exchanges spoke to the habits of friends who’d shared a meal many times over. Will eyed the onions that Nursey picked off his sandwich, wanting them. Even though no one else had made a move for them, he wasn’t quite brave enough to push his way into their rituals. No matter, because as soon as the look was noticed, he found them deposited on the side of his own plate. Happily piling them on his own sandwich he spared a slice of bacon back, but just one. He wasn’t that generous.

Will had originally thought they had brought back too much food not realizing some of the others had gone, but the reason for the pile of random extra sandwiches dropped in the middle of the table became clear as each was picked apart and passed around until everyone was full.

As the last scraps of their meal were being cleared away Ransom spoke up, “So, I got in touch with that realtor,” he told them. “The property is up for sale. Technically. Has been for a while.”

“What do you mean, technically? Then why isn't it listed anywhere? Being shown?” Will asked.

“Well, that's the thing. Apparently, they tried? But the seller wasn’t very motivated and only interest at the price was for a package deal.”

“A package-” Will paused and frowned. “Wait. What was the realtor’s name again?”

When Ransom told him, Will’s face clouded over and a hint of rage built up at the set of his jaw.

“So, I take it you do know him. He said you'd, hmmm, spoken? Before.” Ransom filled in the others, “There’d been a big deal in the works with a developer, but they wanted this whole area or no deal.”

“Yeah. Those assholes. Not likely to forget them. Wanted to turn this place into some ridiculous restaurant.”

“Waterfront restaurants can be nice,” Holster tried to play devil’s advocate, “a good draw for the area.”

Will was having none of it. “My grandfather and father both would roll over in their graves if they knew I sold this place. After all the work they put in on the updates? Especially to some stiff from away. All so someone could open a restaurant we probably wouldn't even be able to afford to eat in? No way. No how. I think not.”

Shitty agreed, “I get it, yeah. People like that’ll suck the soul out of a place to make a buck. Fuck ’em.”

They’d only met recently, and it was hard for Will to tell if Shitty was motivated to agree with him in an attempt to stay on his good side, because he actually did agree or just because he couldn't resist joining in on a potential argument. In any case, fueled by the agreement, Will’s knew he was headed into full ’soapbox mode’ but couldn't help himself. “It’s the developers ruining towns like this all up and down the coast,” his voice rose and his arms flailed as he got more worked up. “For years we’ve helped our own. Didn't need anything from anyone other than basic neighborliness. Share and share alike, and everyone makes it just fine. Then some upstart comes in with his fancy ideas and a pile of money and, and, we’re supposed to sell up and then what? Go where? Do what-”

Holster, who seemed to have finally realized what can of worms he opened up, tried to back it up, “I didn't mean- not your place. Just, like, in general? Attractions, well, attract. But you're here, using the place. There's open land out there and they shouldn’t-”

Will steamrolled on, “-always say they want the authentic experience getaway but that’s not what they're really after. What they really mean is some bland cookie cutter experience that’ll get copied at every seaside town. So they can do the same things and share the same photos as everyone else. Nothing is genuine anymore. Where’s the originality of that? If they have their way every place will be the same as the next. Whatever happened to-”

Ransom held up a hand before interrupting, “Dex is right about that. It does seem to be what they were after here.”

Will grumbled out an “Obviously” but other than that let the other man continue speaking.

“This particular buyer wanted everything from the lane out to the water. All the lots. They’d had plans to turn this place into a restaurant, private outdoor seating at the top. The couple houses as you’re coming out this way redone and connected by a huge kitchen in the middle to make a big bed and breakfast or inn type situation. And then uh,” Ransom paused, “well, your friend's house? That was going to be turned into a gift shop. Upscale souvenirs they told him. But, without adding the rest, there wouldn't have been the traffic to support a shop. So - all or nothing.”

“There was, and is, no way I'm selling up and moving out,” Will shoved himself back from the table angrily.

“Hey, I’m not saying you should,” Ransom held up his hands. “Just passing on what he said. Pretty sure he knows that now.”

“Why do ya say that? I mean, good, but why?”

“He described you as - now keep in mind this is coming from him, and not me. I think you're great, and so don’t-”

“Spit it out.”

“he-called-you-the-lighthouse-lunatic,” came the quickly murmured answer.

“He what?!” Will yelled.

“Come on man, don't make me say it again,” Ransom said with a wince.

“He called me - Well that's - that’s rude is what it is. Imagine invading a man’s home, after he’s - then you're going to call him names? Rude. Even more glad I didn't sell. Lunatic,” Will huffed.

“I wouldn't call you a lunatic,” Holster said, as the others added their agreement. “You do get...excited, but no.”

“At the risk of getting you all, you know,” Nursey gestured vaguely at Will before scooting himself back to a safe distance and continuing, “I’m just saying, coming from a person you tried to forcibly eject days ago, is it completely inaccurate?”

“Yes!”

“Is it though?”

“I will throw you back into the ocean with my bare hands. Right now. Let’s go.”

Nursey offered back a weak smile to show he was kidding, mostly, and the rest started to throw out other words in Will’s defense.

“Not lunatic.”

“No, of course not.”

“Excitable?”

“Touchy, edgy?”

“Nah, opinionated?”

“And, fiercely determined”

“Oh, good one.”

“And hermit like?”

“That’s territorial.”

A woman’s voice from the other side of the room said, “he’s enthusiastically defensive.”

Nursey snaps his fingers. “Exactly!”

“Enthusiastically defensive,” Will repeated before turning and nodding in the direction of Lou, who had appeared over by the sink. “I can accept that.”

She smiled before disappearing again.

“Okay, so, big picture-” Nursey tried to take control of the conversation, “it boils down to, without Dexy’s place here, the whole deal was off the table.”

“And other than that offer there wasn't any real interest,” Holster, who had listened in on Ransom’s call with the realtor, finished. “With no package deal, and the other house owners not willing to take the low offers coming in, he decided it wasn't worth coming all this way to show it to people who are never going to buy anyway. Without the potential sellers pushing him, he stopped promoting it. He’d almost forgotten about the listing himself because no one has ever checked up with him in the last few years. Said it was like the owners themselves had even forgotten about it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, what he said, zombie property. But now back to THAT.” Ransom frantically waved his arms. “What the? Who the? Tell me you all heard that.”

“Uhhh well-” Will stalled.

Ransom looked around at the rest of them, who were visibly trying not to react.

“Is no one going to mention the fucking ghost in the room?!” He shrieked. In a manly way. If you asked him, he would have called it a shout. A very high-pitched shout. That he made while pushing himself as close into the corner, behind the table, as he could.

“Oh, that’s - Lou?”

“Yes, Derek?” she answered from over his shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to call you, I was just telling him - but since you’re here-”

“Your friends seem a little troubled.”

Will snorted.

Most of them were only staring, quiet, and more than a bit shocked, but remarkable not freaking out. At least not externally. But Ransom - well, his face was doing its best fish impression and - try as he might - he couldn't manage to force another word out.

Holster tried to help by giving him a slap on the back and he managed to eke out the words `girl’ and `ghost’ before slipping under the table.

“Is he...okay?” she asked.

“Eh-” Lardo said, tilting her hand side to side.

“Not really.” Holster reached under the table and gave a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“Hi,” was all Shitty got out.

“Maybe I should go,” Lou said, slowly fading.

“Hi?” Shitty asked.

Will thought it was weird to see her fading, when he’d already found himself getting used to her quickly blipping in and out. Then he realized how weird it was he found himself getting used to anything at all to do with this situation.

“No, come back!” they all yelled. Well, all minus Ransom. He whimpered unintelligibly from his hiding place.

Lou faded back in, “are you sure?”

“Hi.” Shitty repeated, prompting a choked back laugh from Lardo.

“I think he means yes,” Will told her. “Stay a while.”

#fictober20 #omgcp #nurseydex #spookydoo au #near year same bullshit #i swear i will finish this one day #I've been adding a few hundred words here and there for ages #and this seemed like the perfect time to update it #even if I wish I had gotten a little further in the writing... ah well #little writer who could etc etc etc #does tumblr still hate links?#or just me?#because this time my header pic kept me from showing up #ah well deleted that now too

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

Whitmore Guy - the usual Mystic Falls party routine

Whitmore Guy masterlist

word count: 2290

warnings: violence

music: the birthday massacre - happy birthday

“One thing that still gives me chills, although I’ve been living here for almost ten years”, Y/N said, swaying her bottle above the table, “is how a big event can be organized here in one day. Forbes just snaps her fingers, and everything’s in place”.

Mal raised his eyebrows.

“Get dead. Get immortal. Gain super strength and intellect. Use it to make people drink at places with a name like that”, he jeered.

“And you’re fine with living in the world where supernatural things are real?” Y/N asked.

“You gotta be dumb to think they aren’t. I mean, humanity is all like… we’re the shit. You know?”

Y/N didn’t always know what exactly he meant, but managed to at least grasp the basic idea most of the time. She recalled their prolonged, interesting, heated conversation on aliens, and Mal said something similar then, too.

“It’s fascinating how you make all things easy”, she marveled, under her breath.

“How come?” he smiled.

“Usually you expect people to crumble under the weight of the realization like that. It’s one thing to believe in stuff, and another to actually get evidence one day. It breaks a lot of people”.

“Did it break you?”

“That first time I met a vampire, it did. But I got back up again”.

“Good girl”, he murmured. A moment, and his attentive face was too close to hers. Mal rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards her, playing a secret agent sharing a very important piece of information.

“Tell me about it”.

“A dude bit me when I was fourteen. It was in Arizona. I barely survived. Some people spooked him, and he escaped, but I never saw his face”.

“That’s a very short story”, Mal looked disappointed. His eyes started wandering around the bar out of boredom. He could do that sometimes – make her feel obliged, when he showed he was about to yawn. He did that when he was grumpy. Y/N wondered, how she knew so much about Mal Osbourne. And why it mattered to her right now. His eyes stopped, widening, and he raised from the table.

“Oh, crap. Oh no”.

“What?”

Y/N turned around to see where he was pointing. Mal sat back, crouching his shoulders and trying to hide himself behind her.

“Martha’s here”.

“I thought she lived in Mystic Falls, Mal”.

“She does!”

“So, why does she keep showing up in Whitmore?”

He looked up at her from the table.

“Look, your Caroline must have gathered the whole two towns here. How am I supposed to know?”

Then his eyes slowly filled with terror.

“What did you mean when you said something bad was going to happen? Did you mean killing?”

Y/N turned around again, and finally saw her. The girl from Mal’s phone. She had dark brown hair, gathered in a ponytail. She was wearing a knitted white jacket, of all things. She looked… usual, just like Damon said. Plain, even. Y/N didn’t know what kind of feeling she got. She supposed the girl a unique dude like Mal chose should be something special.

A tiny voice in her head said, you bitch. She’s a real human and times better than you, apparently.

Martha Hopps was talking to a friend and wasn’t looking in their direction at all.

“Y/N, please”, Mal’s hand grabbed her, fingers biting into her skin, “get her away from here. What if she gets hurt?”

She’s never seen him like that. He was actually concerned. There was even a line between his eyebrows. The only time Y/N saw Mal so worried was when they watched Shadow of Fear, a horrible thriller with a bad plot, which for some reason took his breath away. He sat there in his basement, shaking her palm nervously, and cursed at James Spader for being such a villain all the time.

“What am I supposed to tell her?” she hissed, trying to get his fingers off her bitten wrist. He finally let go.

“I don’t know. Kick her out. Vampires can like... hypnotize people, right?” his face lit, “Make someone enchant her to go home”.

She stood up, wincing at his drifting terminology, bitter, because he beat her.

“Should’ve had you compelled and home right now”.

He cocked his smart head, as if saying, too late now.

Y/N drifted through the bar, trying to find Stefan. He’s the gentle one. He does things right, without rushing. She started getting nervous. The plan to get everybody here was great, to accumulate all vampires in one place, fucking awesome. Suppose she was only too concerned about the basement guy to actually give a thought to what Damon was planning on doing.

Mal was sitting at the table as she left him, but the next second, when she turned her head to look back, he was gone. Music was getting louder. Clock hands were rising higher. Y/N tried to walk through clusters of people, pushing them aside as gentle as possible. She saw Stefan and waved her hand to signal him. The vampire raised his chin acknowledging her, and they headed for each other. As they went, Y/N could see Elena right behind his shoulder, and at her back, one of the fourteen students. Behind him, like a gosling, the older Salvatore. Y/N opened her mouth trying to produce a sound, just as Damon wrapped his fingers around the boy’s throat. Brett Whittings, his name was. Elena turned with a swing, watching Damon drag the student away behind the maintenance door, his eyes full of silver rage. Stefan stepped after him, and there was seeming peace for a fracture of a second. Y/N heard the quiet flop of the closing door... after that all hell broke loose.

First, there was loud scream, like a call for arms, only, drunken. Then somebody hit her on the side of the head, and she swayed, but managed to keep standing, Elena’s eyes keeping her in place. The chocolate haired vampire reached her in a jump, encircling with her arms, but somebody collided into them, sending them away in a hop. They crashed into the bar counter, and Y/N produced a yelp of pain, feeling Elena’s hand pressing her head low. From the floor, she watched a couple of people grabbing each other and biting into each other’s flesh. Gushes of blood shot through the air, sprinkling people around. There were shrieks of horror as another couple went at each other.

Y/N tried to get up. released from Gilbert’s grab, holding on a side of a table like a piece of debris in the raging ocean; the mass of bodies rushed in tides in all directions. There was a loud crack: somebody smashed a person face down on a table and the leg broke. Glass shattered, and she heard Damon’s loud scream.

Y/N didn’t know where to move; they never had any kind of training for Kingsman church scene scenario. Vampires didn’t do that. Y/N tried to get on the bar counter, throwing herself over a row of stools, to see better and to get away. She clawed at the polished wood. Another familiar face was in front of her in a second; his rolling eyes were full of blood, mouth agape. A literature major, Ken Simmons. A good guy, a nerd, even. He looked at her like a zombie, like she was invisible. And turned away, catching a person trying to push past. Y/N grabbed him by the neck, but he was too strong. Having shaken off her hands, he walked on, a wiggling human in his arms, and bent, digging his teeth into their shoulder. The person screamed in pain.

Y/N got on the bar and observed the space, looking at fighting people, screaming, like it was the end of the world. Damon was trying to shake off a girl from his back, who bit into his neck and sucked, wrapping her legs around his waist like a monkey. Their full blindness towards Y/N was scarier than their sudden rage, which turned on as if on command, triggered by Damon’s first move.

Y/N climbed down and was pushed around immediately. People were screaming, and her heart was beating like crazy, all the instincts screaming, run away! Someone laughed into her ear deafeningly.

Finally, there was a choir of roars. Damon and Stefan, the two oldest vampires, stood up, and ran in the center of the disaster, throwing bodies around, breaking deadly kisses and bites, and breaking stiff arms that refused to let go. A sound of breaking wood and glass signaled open doors, and the whole body of the fight flooded out into the street. People crawled out and, holding on to each other, started running into the street.

Suddenly, it was quiet, like somebody snapped their fingers again, and everything stopped with someone’s dying moan. Y/N let go of some girl she’s been trying to stabilize, and she sprinted away, limping all the while.

She looked at her hands, covered in blood, and realized her face was burning, like it was cut, or scraped.

“Eight done”, Damon was panting like a dog.

“Ten”, Stefan replied from somewhere. Y/N swayed.

“Mal!” she screamed.

Something moved under a pile of shredded wood. The splinters were so yellow it looked like somebody gnawed on the table. She ran towards it, and Mal’s arm showed up, all covered in small cuts, but it moved.

The bar was silent like the street outside. A violent shock of stillness made everybody inside and alive shiver.

“Y/N!”

It was Damon. Someone was walking along the counter, but she couldn’t see. Damon showed up at her side, grabbed her by the shoulders, and even shook a little.

“I’m fine, I’m good! Mal’s there, get him out”.

Together, they lifted the pieces of the table. Mal wasn’t moving anymore.

Y/N fell down,feeling for his pulse.

“He’s breathing. He’s just out”, Damon said, looking down at him. “They must have crashed the table on him. Let him rest for a minute”.

Y/N looked into his pale face, smeared blood on his temple. Her heart shrank for a second, and a painful grasp crumpled her from the inside.

“God, what was that”, Caroline whimpered. Her face was cut, but was regenrating quickly, little cuts sucking inside and leaving behind uneven traces of blood. Her bright yellow dress was torn. Elena walked around, her quiet steps rhythmical, and her hair was just as messed up. Her face was blank, like a blind kitten’s.

Y/N moved her feet one after another absently, observing what happened to the place in five minutes. The bodies were laying everywhere. Throats torn, limbs twisted, like an army of demons came and brutalized them; they were barely recognizable. Ric sat at the bar on the sole uncracked stool, and held his bleeding head in his hands. Bonnie wrapped her hands around his palms and tried to see the wound. She gave Y/N a look of despair, her green eyes watering. A feeling of utter mortal horror froze in the air. What it took, seconds earlier, to bring that inhuman rage, now clawed them all apart like sheep. The place started reeking blood.

Something caught her eye, and Y/N felt bitter wave of blood coming up to her throat. A torn white knitted jacket was spread across the floor; her face, as she lay dead, did not seem plain anymore. Martha Hopps had a gaping hole in her chest, and her heart was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes were open, and there were exactly three specks of blood on her forehead.

“This one tried to bite my head off”, Damon murmured gravely, following her glance. He questioned the look in her eyes.

“Look again”, Y/N whispered, but the vampire was quicker than her. Standing with his hand scratching his face, he suddenly widened his eyes, realization coming to him like liquid lead. There was a deep groan and a heavy sigh.

“God dam-” Mal said, stepping up to them. Y/N looked at him, unable to move.

Mal’s lower jaw dropped, and his black eyes stared right at Martha’s body.

“You killed her”, he whispered. Damon gave him a blank look. All the color drained from Mal like he suddenly turned into a paper boy. He walked on slowly, ignorant of the necks and palms centimeters from the soles of his blood-covered Converses; he collapsed on the floor and took her head as gently as if she was made of paper, too. The muscles of his neck strained as he stared down at her bloodless face.

Y/N was paralyzed. It was the worst moment of her life, that was. She felt like her arms were about to fall off. Behind them, Caroline gasped and put her hands to her mouth, and Bonnie gave Mal a look of utter horror.

“You took her away”, Mal sat on the floor and put Martha’s head on his knee. “You took away my girl from me”.

For a second everybody, even the incredibly old vampire Damon Salvatore, with his brother, a certified ripper, at his side, thought something would happen. The way Mal looked him straight in the eye, with this severe, chilly gaze full of hatred, was almost inhuman. Y/N saw a creature before her, which transformed from a person, and into a beast. His face was triangle, his eyes were burning with blackest fire, swarming spiders in the depths of his threat; his neck pulsated with blood, as if he was ready to spring and destroy.

But as Damon stood there, without a word, Mal took a deep sigh, and sobbed a little, but then the sob turned into a laugh.

The scariest part was when he started laughing. Y/N knew this kind of thing; she discovered a weird type of defensive mechanism in her when she heard her great-grandma has passed away. She was only eleven back then. She remembered she was wearing a yellow turtleneck and a green skirt. Mum told her, sitting on her knees, that great-grandma died in the hospital. The old woman who taught her all children poetry she remembered. And Y/N started laughing. She laughed, and laughed, until she began screaming, her face like a white mask, and her own voice sounded like a wolf wail. She was laughing, tears streaming down her face, and couldn’t stop until her mother slapped her so hard she fell on her back and choked on her laughter.

Mal was laughing while staring at the Salvatores, and his crazy black eyes glimmered like two coals. Y/N rushed to him, afraid he would break her; scared he would catch her as she falls next to him, and snap her neck, like vampires do. But he didn’t seem to notice her. He was holding Martha’s body and laughing, until she grabbed him by the neck, trying not to put her knee on his girlfriend’s chest. She put his head to the nape of her neck and his laughter got muffled. Elena’s face expressed dread. She held him, while he held Martha, until he stopped laughing and sighed, like a child in their sleep. And started crying.

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