I saw that you have a Strange Things AU. Is there something you can share with us? Like headcanons or something? :3
I won’t be writing this AU anymore (I’m sorry, here is the reason). But I can share with you the general idea:
Canon Divergence from the show, season 6.
When Eric leaves Donna at the altar, he doesn’t comes back that night, nor the next day, nor in a week. His parents call the police, an investigation is opened as strange stuff start happening in Point Place. Then, Donna disappears too.
The police thinks they ran away together at the end and because there’s no much evidence that says otherwise, they kinda let it go, but the rest of the gang and their parents know something more is going on. At the same time, Kelso steals the report on Donna’s case from the Police Station.
He shows it only to Hyde, he doesn’t want Fez to tell anyone or to scare Jackie and when Hyde reads it, he understands why. The thing talks about something that could had been taking people at the lake, it shows pictures of something near the lake they used to go swining and that something, doesn’t look human nor animal, just– a monster.
It says the monster may have taken Donna, since a female shoe was found near a few drops of blood they are waiting to confirm is hers; it also says an informer had seen the monster, another one who says they got a call from Donna (who only repeated Jackie’s name and then, somehow, the phone got burned) and someone claiming weird stuff happening to the lights and energy at the station Donna works in.
They recognize the shoe and Kelso leaves the file back at the station as they figure out what to do and if they should talk about this with Bob, their friends, or not.
Fluffy(ish) Prompt: They've all lost 7 years with him and are eager to make up for lost time. So Sara and Linc take a stab a learning how to share after Michael returns. Or not. Fortunately Mike's quite the budding mastermind.
Michael stares out the window of the car, the wind blowing in his face, his arm propped up on the door, fist buried against his cheek. Lincoln weaves through the streets with an air of familiarity that left Michael feeling lost not for the first time this past week.
The transition from Kaniel Outis, wanted terrorist, to Michael Scofield, husband and father, while a welcome change, one he’d been wishing for for seven years, was a role he was unaccustomed to, not for a lack of want so much as a lack of experience.
While Sara and him discussed the future, where they would live being the biggest concern, he found himself faced with reminders of his absence around every turn. The most prevalent one in the form of his son, who after being manipulated by Jacob had grown wary of his presence, understandably so.
He title his head out the window to peer up at the sky, the sun beating down on them, his skin covered in the long sleeves of a blue shirt.
“What time are we meeting them?” Lincoln shoots at him, driving with one hand, an ease about him he hadn’t seen in quite some time.
Michael turns his head towards his brother, but his arm remains propped up against the window, his long fingers refusing to leave the side of his face.
“One,” Michael says, glancing down at the clock. “We’ve still got some time,” he assures him in that quiet whisper. But before they know it, they’re pulling up to the park, the one by the water.
Michael gets out of the car, his fingers immediately kneading into his palm, the newness of the situation still not feeling real, even after having seen her this morning before heading out to spend time with Linc. His nerves channeled into the spreading of his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles into the palm of his hand, a nervous tell that Sara’s eyes immediately went to upon seeing him, a quirk of her lips allowing him her own tell at knowing all his habits.
She’s dressed in a striped dress, hanging down to the ankles, a jean jacket covering her pale skin from the sun, a pair of sunglasses resting atop her head. Her hand rests calmly on the boy’s back, as he carries the soccer ball. Standing next to them, Sheba, dressed casually, with a big smile when she sees them walking up.
Lincoln stops, eyeing Michael, knowing full well that this was his doing, but only a shy, knowing smile is answered back.
As his brother approaches her, Michael waits back, glancing around at his surroundings, old habits dying hard.
Mike bounds up to his uncle, interrupting his greeting, tossing around the ball, as if trying to entice him into playing. Instead the three of them make their way to the grassy area, laying down a blanket before Mike runs off to play on the jungle gym, Lincoln quietly sitting with Sheba.
Sara approaches Michael, switching their positions as they sit against the rocky bench, her eyes flitting to Mike’s position every few seconds, refusing to let him out of her sight.
“You and Lincoln match,” she says with a cheeky smile, referring to the blue they’d both unknowingly changed into before he’d been picked up.
“So do you and Mike,” he says, his hand reaching out to trace one of the stripes across her stomach.
“We’re like those cheesy families in matching outfits,” she teases, her hand coming to rest on the rock, while his fingers intertwine with themselves, a contemplative look on his face at her direct reference to a time long ago. One filled with danger and the unknown, and the knowledge of Mike just percolating somewhere in the back of her mind.
A smile ghosts across his face, wanting nothing more than for that to be true.
“Is this our someday?” He asks quietly, peeking up through his dark lashes into her face, her auburn hair flying every which way in the wind.
She looks down, a slight blush covering her face, before pushing her hair out of her face. A nervous laugh escaping her, before quickly settling, turning her head towards him. Her eyes quickly searching for Mike before settling on the troubled seas he knew were brewing behind his eyes.
He knows she can sense the torture, the longing to fit seamlessly into their lives, the damage still lingering from the events of that asshole, making things more difficult, but not impossible.
“He asked about you this morning,” she says, a grin on her face.
“Yeah?” He asks, a flitter of excitement written all over him.
“Wanted to know if you were going to be back in time to go to the park,” she nods towards him hanging off the bars. Michael turns around, his son staring at him from his position, as if willing him to come towards him.
Michael quietly smiles to himself, the same one he’d worn so many times before in the presence of Sara, not a cocky one, but one of hope.
“He loves you,” she says, her hand finding his two resting in his lap. Her fingers come to rest over his knuckles, scooting closer to him. “Just give him a little time,” she whispers sweetly, and he finds himself nodding.
And then she’s standing, her hand leaving his hands to find its way to his head, rubbing over it gently, before placing a soft kiss where her hand had just been.
“I’ll meet you over there,” she says, her flip flops making a popping noise as she walks over to where Sheba is resting comfortably on the blanket, signaling Lincoln to get up, meeting Michael halfway before making their way further up the hill.
From this view they’re able to see their family from above, higher ground giving them an advantage, all the light touches casting their family in a glow of freedom he’d been unable to touch before. Instead he’d stayed hidden away in the shadows, catching but mere glances at the ones he loved the most, now free to openly adore them for all to see.
The feelings were still new, the life he was able to have still settling into his new skin, but unwilling to waste anymore of his time.
A sense of comfort washing over him at Lincoln’s admission of things working out being just as strange to him as it felt to Michael. Danger having always been just around the corner, paranoia eating him alive, and the safety of his family forever threatened. To finally be able to settle down, live that happily ever after felt like something of a dream, and adjusting to that way of life had him stumbling through the days sometimes.
But the overall feeling was still something of joy. Of freedom. Of love.
He doesn’t hesitate to tell his brother as much. No longer encoding his messages, emotions shoved under a thinly veiled threat of danger, instead out in the open, said aloud, forthcoming and unapologetic. No threats, just pure and sincere.
There in front of him, the love of his life, his son, his brother, and the promise of a future. it was more than he could have imagined just a few weeks ago, let alone all those years ago when he’s inked his skin with a plan and a hope to save his brother, his only family.
“Can we play now?” He hears Mike ask Lincoln. Sara now tossing the ball back and forth in her hands.
“Sure, Mikey,” Lincoln agrees, having just settled down on the blanket.
Michael smiles contently on the hill, right before his family moves to get up.
He straightens immediately when he sees Mike making his way up the hill, ball in hand, sweet brown eyes searching his face.
“Do you want to play?” he shyly asks. His striped shirt not the only thing resembling his mother, as his auburn hair rests across his forehead.
“Sure, buddy,” Michael responds, easing the boy’s nerves at his answer, a toothy smile making its way to his face instead, his eyes alight with excitement.
They make their way down to the others, a skip in Mike’s step as he tosses the ball down onto the ground, and kicks it out to Lincoln and Sheba.
Michael comes to stand next to Sara, and her arm immediately comes to wrap around his waist pulling him closer, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Mom, Dad, come on!” Mike beckons, and Michael smiles against Sara at the title having been given to him for the first time.
“This is our someday, sweetheart,” she whispers, his question from earlier having not escaped her, as they look out at their son playing.
On this day in 1786, an organized group of armed citizens laid siege to the courthouse in Northampton, Massachusetts, preventing the court from sitting and conducting its business. A few days later, another armed group prevented the court from sitting in Worcester, Massachusetts. This series of actions ground the judicial system of western Massachusetts to a halt, ceased the expropriation of debtors’ land by creditors, and prevented the arrest of the debtors themselves. When the local militia refused the call of the governor to put down this civil unrest, the beginnings of Shays’ Rebellion took root.