oak chest

The Youngest Mikaelson

Summary: As the youngest Mikaelson sister, you never get to join your siblings in dangerous fights. Therefore, you decide to sneak out on your own to prove to your siblings that you can take care of yourself. But nothing goes as planned.

Words: 1,005

Requested by @hellhoundlover - I hope that it’s everything you wanted love


You did not worry about the harm or pain that were most certainly coming to you. You did not even worry about their whispers, saying that they have a way to kill an original. The only thing you truly worried about was your siblings’ anger when they found out that you had sneaked out of the Compound to fight.

Being the youngest Mikaelson, you had always been very well protected – or, as you would say, overprotected. They would never let you fight, heck they would barely even let you leave the house on your own. You thought that it was a bit too much – not only were you thousand years old, you were also immortal; obviously, you could take care of yourself.

That was why you had sneaked out; you wanted to prove them wrong. Unfortunately, things had not gone as planned. Somehow, the witches had discovered you and taken you hostage. You did not know what they wanted to do with you but you had a feeling that it was not anything comfortable.

Your wrists and ankles were tied with vervain robes, and a cloth dripped in vervain around your mouth and nose made every breath feel like hundreds of knives were being stabbed into your lunges. At first, you had tried to free yourself but they were not normal robes – they had been spelled and there was absolutely nothing that you could do against them.

Out of a sudden, the witches’ rather casual work was interrupted by several screams from outside the dungeon. They all hurried outside to help their coven – but one of them stayed behind.

When the Mikaelson siblings entered the dungeon, their faces dripping with blood and anger, they were shocked to see you. But they were even more shocked to see the witch next to you, who was pointing a white oak stake against your chest.

Witch: Take one more step and your precious baby sister dies.

Their bodies stiffened, not wishing you any harm let alone death.

Elijah: Let my sister go. She’s innocent.

Witch: Innocent, ha! As if any vampire could be innocent.

Rebekah: My brother’s right. She has never done anyone any harm. Killing her would be cold blooded murder.

Witch: You mean it would be what you do every single day? You know what it’s rather satisfying to see the mighty Mikaelsons so… terrified. I might write that on my CV.

Freya: How about you write ‘stupid dead witch’ instead?

Before the witch had managed do to anything, Freya made the stake fly through the room, landing safely in her hand. Not even the first syllable of a spell left the witch’s mouth before Kol rushed towards her, tearing her head of her body. Then Freya cast another spell, removing the robes from your body. Instead of collapsing, you landed softly in Klaus’ arms.

During your life, there had been many uncomfortable talks. One was your talk with your father after he had hit Klaus. Another one was your talk with Klaus after he had daggered Rebekah. And then there was of course the inevitable ‘bees and flowers’ talk. But none of them were as bad as this.

You sat on the couch while your siblings stood in a half circle around you. You looked down on the ground, afraid to see disappointment in their eyes. But when Elijah made you raise your head, you were surprised to only find fear in them.

Freya: What you did today was dangerous, childish, and above all stupid.

Elijah: You know better than to leave the house alone, let alone go to the witches by yourself.

Klaus: Why did you do it, Y/N?

Klaus’ voice was the softest of them, filled with great concern and incomprehensibility. He was genuinely hurt that you had not talked to them before going of like that. That you had not talked to him. The two of you had always been close; you were the only one of his siblings that he had never been able to dagger.

Y/N: I… I just wanted to help.

Your words were almost impossible to hear but given the audience they obviously heard you anyway.

Kol: Help? How, by getting yourself killed?

Y/N: I didn’t know they had the white oak stake.

Rebekah: But even if they hadn’t, it would have been way too dangerous for you. You’re not used to fight.

Y/N: Of course I’m not, you never let me!

You had not meant to higher your voice; you knew that they only wanted to protect you. But you hated seeing your siblings leave to fight, sometimes even risk their lives, without being able to stand by their sides.

Y/N: I’m sorry, I did not mean it like that. It’s just that… We’re the strongest creatures on Earth, yet I’m never doing anything else than staying behind when you are out fighting for our family. I’m… Unnecessary.

Your statement surprised and saddened them. They had never wanted to make you feel like this. And it hurt them considering how different the situation was from their eyes.

Klaus made his way towards you and squatted in front of you, his head only a few inches from yours. He placed his hands heavily on your shoulders.

Klaus: You are not unnecessary. You are and you always have been the very glue that holds this family together. Without you, we would never have lasted more than a millenium together. Trust me Y/N, you are anything but unnecessary.

You looked around on the rest of your siblings, each of them smiling to you and clearly agreeing with Klaus’ words.

Klaus was thrown back when you hugged him which resulted in you lying on top of him on the ground. Both of you started laughing and your siblings quickly followed suit.

Maybe you were not as unnecessary as you had thought; you just played a role which was much more important than you had ever imagined. You were the Mikaelson who made sure that your vow would last, always and forever.  

BTTP Extra Scene Request

Could we get an episode of when A. Lin remembers his past life as Alex, or B. when he sees the Reader at the Theater?


Lin blinked, staring at his laptop monitor. He looked down at his clothes, realizing he was wearing his costume for the musical. His hair was already fixed, pulled back by whatever chemicals the makeup department used on his hair. He heard his door swing open, seeing his friend Oak standing there. He was wearing his costume for Mulligan as well, staring at Lin.

“Am I the only one?” He asked, being as vague as possible. Lin gulped, nodding slowly.

“I remember, I remember everything.” He looked back at himself at the mirror, recalling everything that happened up to this point.

Fighting in the American Revolution. Listening to Eliza reading the letter that told him Laurens was dead, his heart dropping when he found out that Philip died during the battle. His daughter, Angelica, unable to handle the stress. Cheating on Eliza with Maria. 

But he remember her. 

He remembered Y/N.

How she appeared in front of him, wearing the tank top and pajama pants. Her kind smiles toward him and her jokes. Her musical laugh, her eyes, her voice, her hair. 

He remembered everything.

“What do we do?” Lin asked softly, looking at Oak. Oak sighed, leaning against the door frame. 

“We try to find her,” Lin gaze went to Lau-Anthony, his arms across his chest. “We have to see if she knows us, at least, knows what happened to us. And why we remember our past selves.” It was refreshing to see him okay, to see him alive. He still remembered his life now, but it still brought tears to his eyes. Anthony smiled at Lin, nodding once. 

“And maybe we could have a little reunion.” Daveed chimed in, appearing next to Oak’s shoulder. 

“Five minutes!” They yelled over the speaker, and Oak sighed. Lin stood up from his chair, looking at his friends.

“After the show, we’ll find her. We’ll find Y/N.” Lin whispered, and they all walked out, determination on their faces.


The show went by slower than it usually did. All of the boys felt weird playing characters that were once them not too long ago (well, the 1700s were a long time ago, but it didn’t feel that way). Lin bowed at the end of the show, and he could have sworn he glimpsed Y/N in the crowd. But when he blinked, her face was gone, a mixture of colors was what he saw. 

Right after his last show, the boys sat in Lin’s dressing room, talking about what they might do. Once Oak said he thought he saw Y/N in the crowd, Lin jumped up, smiling.

“You saw her! I thought I saw her! Did we see her? What if she was there? Does that mean she remembers? We need to figure this out, I mean, isn’t this just fantastic?” Lin continued to ramble on, hope rising in his chest. Oak put his hand on the short man’s shoulder, trying to calm him down.

“Lin, it could have just been an illusion. You don’t know if we were just imagining her or not.”

“Exactly, we don’t. We have no idea if that was her or not!” Lin exclaimed, his smile almost breaking his face. Daveed shook his head, looking at Lin,

“Even in this lifetime, you’re still as confusing as ever.” Daveed mumbled. Anthony nodded.

“Alright, alright. That’s what I’m talking about Lin! How about this, we all split up, looking around Times Square and see if we could find her. If she was in the crowd, and she’s looking for us, she wouldn’t go to far. Especially if she knows that we’re actors in Hamilton.” Ant suggested. Lin stopped pacing back and forth, smiling at him.

“That’s a great idea, Ant. Okay, put your phones on loud, lads.” They all laughed at his slang, but agreed. Lin grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, a smile still on his face.

He was so close to finding you.

And nothing was going to stop him from doing so.


It was already eleven at night, and the boys and himself could not find you. He decided to buy some coffee on his search, wanting to stay up as long as possible. His hair was a mess, the bags under his eyes were getting darker by the minute, but he was determined to find you. Even if it took all night, he would give up his sleep just to see your smile again.

As he was zoning out while walking down the street, he got a call from Oak. He answered it, continuing to walk. “Hey Oak, find anything?”

“No, you?”

“Zilch. I’m walking around the theater, seeing if she might show around here. That’s the first place I would stay if I was looking for me.”

He suddenly bumped into a body, spilling coffee all over the innocent woman’s sweater. She hissed, leaping back from the boiling hot liquid. Lin’s face immediately dropped, and he began talking quickly, unable to stop due to his embarrassment and sorrow.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I just wasn’t paying attention and my friend oak was calling me and I just, it’s been a long day and I think I owe you another sweater. I swear I didn’t do this on purpose I-” His eyes met yours, and his heart dropped.

You were wearing a coffee-stained sweater, and some jeans. Your hair was as messy as his, and your eyes looked tired, void of any happiness. Your face was the same, if not as lively as when he first met you. He dropped the last remaining piece of the foam coffee cup on the ground, unable to grasp that you were standing in front of him. 

The love of his life was standing in front of him. 

You were as beautiful as when he first met you.

“Y/N?” He whispered, barely able to say anything more. Your eyes widened at the mention of your name, and you finally looked at him straight in the eye. Your hands shook, looking at him in awe.

“Alexander?” She replied, his past name kissing your lips. A smile broke out on his face, and his heart began to beat wildly. 

You remembered him. You remembered who he was.

Fresh-Baked Bread


Okieriete Onaodowan (Oak) x Reader

Summary: It’s just sex. Sex, guys. Also Oak makes bread and dances to jazz music!

Warnings: SMUT. A couple swears.

A/N: @hamiltonwrotetheother51 helped me with dialogue so much and I owe them my life.



You awoke to the sound of rain and the yeasty smell of rising bread. Your bed was cooler than normal, so you figured your fiancé, Okieriete was the one moving around in the kitchen. Stretching luxuriously, you hauled yourself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen.
Leaning quietly in the doorframe, you watched Oak dance and shimmy to some kind of slinky jazz music. In an amazing display of masculine grace, he pirouetted to face you.

“(Y/N)! The sleeper awakes! Welcome to the world of the living!” He samba-ed over to you, wooden spoon in hand, and scooped you into a tango. Shrieking with laughter, you let him dance you around your small kitchen. He had the spoon between his teeth like a rose.
When the song ended he dipped you down and tossed the wooden spoon off to the side.
Before you could react, Oaks lips brushed against yours. He pulled back for a fraction of a second. His eyes met yours and you knew exactly what he meant to do.

In one swift motion Oak pulled your thighs up and around his hips. Leaning you back over the counter he checked the timer on the oven.
“23 minutes until this is ready baby. You think you can last that long?”
He dipped his head down and gently sank his teeth into your exposed neck. You’re entire body tingled.
“Yes…” you gasped.
He scooped you up.
“Lets go.”

He held you close to him and started walking down the hall towards the bedroom. Kicking the door open, he tossed you on the bed.
“You know the drill, honeybee.” He said, voice low, leaning against the closed door.
“Get those damned clothes off and let me see what I’m up against!”
You started to obey instantly, pulling you shirt off and then your pyjama pant. You were left standing in your panties, which you dropped a moment later. Oak had started to slowly pace towards you, eyes full of lust, a half smile on his full lips.
“Lie back, babygirl…Knees up. Let me look at you…”. His voice was low and quiet and full of promise. You lay back on the edge of the bed, knees bent and legs falling open, shivering as you felt a shock of cool air between your legs. The sensation was fleeting though, because a second later Oaks’ hand was sliding between your folds, up your cleft, stopping with his thumb gently pressing on your clit. He didn’t move. Just kept his thumb there. He leaned over you, hooking your right leg over his shoulder. The tip of his tongue trailed along the outer shell of your ear.
“So wet… You just can’t control yourself around me, can you?” He panted into your ear, pressing his hardening cock against your thigh.
“Goddamit Oak! Get your fucking pants off and give me attention. I deserve it!” You whined. He pulled away from you sharply and you gasped.
Looking up, you saw him stripping his shorts, boxers, and shirt off. When he was finished he ran his hand up your leg, looked at you for a moment before jerking his chin towards the head of the bed.
“Up there. Lie back on the pillows. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable.”
You smiled at how concerned he was for you, moving yourself up as he had asked. He checked his phone.
“We got 12 minutes left (Y/N). Think you can last that long?” He was poised over you. Arms on either side of your head, holding himself above you. You could feel his hips resting between hour legs, the head of his cock nudging against your clit. It was antagonizing.
“Oak I can last forever. Please just give me what I want!” Your hands found his shoulders, ran over his smooth brown skin and pressed at the small of his back. “Oak…”
he smiled.
“I want you to look at me. The whole time. I want to see every expression.”
You needed him so bad right now. A growled “yes sir” left your lips.
He shifted over you and you could feel the head of his cock press into you. You hummed in satisfaction as he slowly pushed his hips forward until his cock was fully snuggled inside you, filling you up completely.
He rested his weight onto his forearms on either side of your head. You felt him start moving in minuscule increments at first, tapping against your g-spot with every movement. Before long he was picking up speed and grunting with every thrust.
You could feel him hitting you hard and deep. Heat began to pool in your belly, your entire body tensing with expectation. You looped your legs around his waist and over his hips, giving him a better angle. You were gasping quietly, gazing at Oak in wonder. The beautiful, chocolate-brown boy that was panting above you.
“Oh…my god… you… do things to… me that… I can’t even… describe!” He huffed. His hips were pushing up and against you frantically. All you could do in response was whimper.
“Oak! I…” he dipped his head down and kissed you hard.
“Come. Now. You’re beautiful when you’re like this. Coming undone under me.” His voice was thick and deep and husky and it sent you over the edge.
The fire inside you erupted, sending tendrils of liquid bliss throughout your entire body. Your body moved involuntarily, back arching into Oaks’ chest, eyes squeezing shut as you held onto him and let your climax shake you. A moment later he groaned and you felt heat rush inside you.
Oak pressed deep into you, panting, arms shaking, before pulling out of you and collapsing on the bed by your side. His dark skin was slick with sweat and his ribs were heaving. You reached over and rubbed his woolly black hair. His eyes fluttered open and he turned to you, gently resting his fingertips against your lips.
“You make me feel things..” he murmured
You laughed and kissed his palm.
He was still looking at you in wonder.
“I’m so in love with you, (Y/N).”
You smiled. “Oak, I love you too, honey.”
He closed his eyes for a second, a smile still playing on those beautiful brown lips.
“Shit!!! I forgot about breakfast!” He threw his clothes back on and sprinted to the kitchen.
You giggled and put your own clothes back on, wandering out when you were finished. The rain was still drumming on the windows but Oak had made an incredible array of breakfast goodies. Including a loaf of fresh-baked bread.

Eternal gratitude to Reeder for “Julia” (I heard it for the first time a long time before it was in the podcast, and I’ve only grown to love it more the more I listen to it), but I like to think that the song exists in canon. This isn’t something I’ve put a lot of thought into - I was just listening to the song and I thought it would be nice if it existed for these characters, too. There are a few ways this might be true.

Maybe eventually, as Magnus spends more time with his family, he tells them more about Julia. How much she would have loved all of them - how much all of them would have loved her. All of the little things she did that made him laugh, or made him fall for her again every day. She’s never there, but somehow she’s always there because Magnus is always talking about her. He tells all of their stories so many times that his whole family knows them by heart. And one day, for Candlenights or maybe even just because, Barry tells Magnus he has something for him and sits down at the piano. It’s not long before Magnus is crying, but he doesn’t notice because his attention is elsewhere. That’s her. That’s Julia, there in that song. He must have done a good job introducing her to his family, because they know her so well.

Learning to play can be difficult, but the piano is an accommodating instrument for beginners. All of the keys are laid out in front of you right from the start, all cards on the table, straightforward. In a way, that matches Magnus. It’s a stumbling start, and Barry demonstrates impressive patience as Magnus tries to master the new skill. Magnus is very good about practicing, though, and while he might not ever perform on a stage, he’s always been good with his hands. It’s nice to have something new to do with them while his thoughts are elsewhere. As time passes and his skill grows, he thinks about how much Julia would have liked to listen to him play, and the idea sticks in his head. When he’s ready, he asks Barry and Lup to listen to the song, and they note it down as he plays. It’s common to hear the music of that song streaming through the window and whispered in the streets of Raven’s Roost, in some small way filling an absence that’s been there for a long time. When Magnus isn’t there to play anymore, Lup or Barry sometimes still do; the title of the song, which only had one name before, is changed to two. 

Julia could play. Julia could play and fill the whole room with music and laughter and joy. Before - and especially after - the revolution, she would visit the tavern and play loud, excited music while everyone there sang along or danced. Everything, everyone, was more alive when Julia played. When it was just the two of them, during quiet afternoons at the shop when the work was done, Julia played a different kind of music - soft and sweet, another part of her that Magnus had the honor of seeing more than anyone else. Somehow even with the town gone, the sheet music in the little oak chest survives, and he takes it with him when he leaves. Years later, that same sheet music held delicately in his hands, he explains to Lup who wrote it. Magnus doesn’t even have to ask; Lup squeezes his hand, sits down with him at the piano, and goes over the basics. Until Magnus can play the song for himself, she plays it for him; he sits in a rocker that smells like lavender and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that it’s years ago and another lifetime and Julia is just across the room.

(Whatever the truth is, one day there is a piano and a set of sheet music in a little house on a little island. The house is filled with music even when no one plays.)

Keepsake

Sometimes when no one was around, or when they weren’t paying very much attention, the Lady of Winterfell would quietly slip away to her chambers and bolt the door behind her. She would sit on the edge of her bed, listening and waiting to ensure no one had followed or was coming to fetch her. Only when she was certain of her solitude would she stand from her bed and kneel before the heavy oak chest on the floor.


It had become a ritual, an obsession, and it always had to be done exactly the same, in exactly the right order. The latch on the right of the chest would be unclasped first, then the left. She would carefully lift the lid and ease it back so that it did not fall with a loud thud. Next she would lift her stack of furs and wools and gently set them to the side. Then she would lift out the small box that had been hidden underneath and walk back to take a seat on the side of the bed.


By that point her heart was always racing, pounding against her chest like a war drum- a rhythmic call to arms. A constant reminder of the war she was fighting within herself, though it was far too late to undo the battle that had settled it all.


Sansa Stark would take a deep breath before opening the smaller box and let it out when the lid was open. Only when the tiny object was in her hands did the pounding of her heart steady. She would run a finger over the small mockingbird, once a bright silver and kept pristinely clean, was now dark with dried blood. For some reason she had not cleaned it yet, if only to remind herself of her own crimes.


Had he deserved it? Months prior she would have insisted that he had but every time she looked at the pin she was not entirely sure anymore. Maybe it was simply that she missed him, and she did miss him. A fact that had been so hard to admit even to herself, much less anyone else, which was why no one could ever know of her ritual.


Petyr…her warm and funny protector. She had only meant to kill Littlefinger, not Petyr.


A tear would escape her eye, only to be followed by another. Sometimes she prayed to awaken and find it had all been a dream. Did Littlefinger deserve to die? Yes. And she had thought she had taken all he had to offer, that she needed him no longer because she had her family back. But oh how she had changed and she was so different from them now. It was in the quiet of her own mind that she seeked his council…yearned for it. It was in the darkest corners of her heart that she longed for one more kiss, one more devious smirk.


Now she wondered how she was any different from the people who had turned him into Littlefinger. Now she wondered if she could have saved Petyr by simply loving him because no one ever had.


“I guess I’ll never know,” she whispered to no one, placing the small blood-caked pin back into its box. “But I miss you.”

can’t live with him but can’t live without him - oliver x marcus

“I can’t do this,” Oliver whined, sitting up among the whirlpool of crumpled sheets, fleecy blankets and duck-feather pillows that seemed to be suffocating him as he tried to sleep. “I just can’t.”

He melodramatically kicked the duvet off him, cheeks a deep scarlet colour as he leapt from the bed and stood by the oak chest of drawers, one hand propped on his hip while the other wearily rubbed over his eyes. It was a late night and through the break in the curtains Oliver could see the moon hung proudly in the sky, surrounded by its very own sea of stars. Among the navy canvas the stars almost looked like a dot-to-dot pattern, just waiting for someone to come and connect them to complete the image. Oliver liked to imagine the stars would create an outline of Marcus’ face, perfectly accentuating his angelic cheekbones and God-like jawline. He was unfairly gorgeous, Oliver thought, which only made this hindrance more aggravating. 

Keep reading

We Met This Day A Hundred Years Ago

A The Prince and The Dragon Story

Summary: It’s been a hundred years since Argen has seen his bond-mate. When a young friend drags him out for a shopping trip, he encounters something he never expected 

Word Count: 5204 

Notes: A lovely Anon asked for Argen/Lawrence as exes who hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Since I can’t actually see a reason these two would ever break up, this is what happened. I hope you like it, even if it isn’t exactly what you asked for!

Keep reading

The Five Chinese Elements

There’s a woman that grows like the Sequoia Oak in my chest
With roots branching every corner of my body,
The way that the earth and the sky are blessed
- by its company

There’s a woman that drowns every inch of my quintessence
With an intellect unmatchable and her eyes shine with iridescence,
The way that the water has the power to indulge every corner of the globe
In the same fashion that I revel in her substance,
When she takes off her robe

There’s a woman that burns the walls down around me
With the capacity to reignite a thousand stars,
The way a fire has the potential to burn through the entire world.
That same woman can take me out of earth and she has a beauty that nothing could mars

There’s a woman that can flow through the very centre of my body
With the dynamism to turn your entity inside out,
The way that the wind has the true strength to shed through entire cities and bring reservoirs to drought
That same woman is the key most relevant in my layout

There’s a woman that can make every fibre of my being shake
With the capability to move even the worlds continents
The way that the earth can crumble civilisations in seconds
And that same woman rids me of all my worries, every morning when I awake

There’s a woman that can freeze my entity to an ingot
With the same tensile strength to hold palace and castles
The way I’ve never wished more than anything in my life, I’ve wanted to give a ring, look

And all the while
She has the most precious,
Unadulterated and magnificent eyes and smile

‘You haven’t told me yet what on earth you’re doing here,’ said Mike. ‘I thought you were going to the ‘Varsity. Why the dickens are you in a bank? Your pater hasn’t lost his money, has he?’
‘No. There is still a tolerable supply of doubloons in the old oak chest. Mine is a painful story.’
‘It always is,’ said Mike.
‘You are very right, Comrade Jackson. I am the victim of Fate.’
—  Psmith in the City, P. G. Wodehouse
8

The True Story of the Enfield Poltergeist

The rasping male voice sent a chill through the room. Hauntingly, it delivered a message from beyond the grave, describing in graphic detail the moment of death.

‘Just before I died, I went blind, and then I had an ’aemorrhage and I fell asleep and I died in the chair in the corner downstairs.’

The eerie voice — which can still be heard on audio tapes today — is purportedly that of Bill Wilkins. The recording was made in Enfield, North London, in the Seventies, several years after his death.


Most horrifying of all, however, was that the voice was coming from the body of an 11-year-old girl, Janet Hodgson. She appeared to be possessed. It could have been a scene from the film The Exorcist — but it was real.

What was going on? This was the case of the Enfield Poltergeist, which held the nation spellbound 30 years ago, puzzling policemen, psychics, experts in the occult and hardened reporters alike.

It involved levitation, furniture being moved through the air, and flying objects swirling towards witnesses. There were cold breezes, physical assaults, graffiti, water appearing on the floor, and even claims of matches spontaneously bursting into flame.

A policewoman even signed an affidavit that she had seen a chair move. There were more than 30 witnesses to the strange incidents.

Most inexplicably, the young girl at the centre of the events seemingly acted as the mouthpiece for Bill Wilkins, a foul-mouthed, grumpy old man who had died in the house many years before. His son contacted investigators to confirm the details of his story.

The events unfolded for more than a year behind the door of an ordinary-looking semi-detached council house, on a suburban street filled with similar houses, and left those they touched permanently scarred.

Naturally, many questioned whether it was all a hoax — but no explanation other than the paranormal has ever been convincingly put forward.

Now, the episode is to be revisited in a film, planned for release at Halloween next year.

Just what happened in Enfield, then, all those years ago? Where are the Hodgsons now, and have they escaped their ghosts? Could they have made the whole episode up? And who lives at 284 Green Street now?

The story, as the Hodgson family told it, begins in 1977. Peggy Hodgson was unusual, at the time, in that she was a single mother to four children — Margaret, 12, Janet, 11, Johnny, ten, and Billy, seven — having split from their father.

It was the evening of August 30, 1977, and Mrs Hodgson was keen to get her children into bed. She heard Janet complaining from upstairs that her and her brothers’ beds were wobbling.

Mrs Hodgson told her daughter to stop mucking around. The following evening, however, there was an altogether more bizarre disturbance. Mrs Hodgson heard a crash from upstairs. Cross, she went to tell her children to settle down.

Entering their bedroom, with Janet’s Starsky & Hutch posters on the wall, Mrs Hodgson saw the chest of drawers move. She pushed it back, but found that it was being propelled towards the door by an invisible force. It seemed as if some supernatural presence was trying to trap the family in the room with the heavy oak chest.

Many years later, Janet would tell a Channel 4 documentary: ‘It started in a back bedroom, the chest of drawers moved, and you could hear shuffling. Mum said: “I want you to pack it in.”

‘We told her what was going on, and she came to see it for herself. She saw the chest of drawers moving. When she tried to push it back, she couldn’t.’

Janet’s sister Margaret explained how the activity increased.

‘There were strange little noises in the house, you couldn’t make out what was going on. None of us got slept.

‘We put on our dressing gowns and slippers and went next door.’

The family appealed for help from their neighbours, Vic and Peggy Nottingham. Vic, a burly builder, went to investigate.

He says: ‘I went in there and I couldn’t make out these noises — there was a knocking on the wall, in the bedroom, on the ceiling. I was beginning to get a bit frightened.’

Margaret adds: ‘He said: “I don’t know what to do.” I’d never seen a big man like that looking scared.’

The Hodgsons called the police, who proved to be similarly mystified. WPC  Carolyn Heeps saw a chair move.

She said at the time: ‘A large armchair moved, unassisted, 4 ft across the floor.’

She inspected the chair for hidden wires, but could find no explanation for what she had seen.

Eventually, the officers left, telling the family that the incidents were not a police matter, as they couldn’t find anyone breaking the law.

Next, the Hodgsons contacted the Press. Daily Mirror photographer Graham Morris, who visited the house, says: ‘It was chaos, things started flying around, people were screaming.’

Some of the events were captured on camera, and the images are disturbing. One shows Janet’s elfin form apparently being thrown across the room.

In others, her face is distorted in pain.

The BBC went to the house, but the crew found the metal components in their tape equipment had been twisted, and recordings erased.

Next, the family sought help from the Society for Psychical Research (SPR). It sent investigators Maurice Grosse and Guy Lyon Playfair, a poltergeist expert who subsequently wrote a book, This House Is Haunted, about the affair.

The author Will Storr spoke to Grosse, who has since died, when researching his own book Will Storr vs The Supernatural, which also features the case. Grosse told him: ‘As soon as I got there, I realised that the case was real because the family was in a bad state. Everybody was in chaos.

‘When I first got there, nothing happened for a while. Then I experienced Lego pieces flying across the room, and marbles, and the extraordinary thing was, when you picked them up they were hot.

‘I was standing in the kitchen and a T-shirt leapt off the table and flew into the other side of the room while I was standing by it.’

The investigators found themselves caught in a maelstrom of apparently psychic activity, with every poltergeist trick thrown at them. Sofas levitated, furniture spun round and was flung across the room, and the family would be hurled out of their beds at night.

One day, Maurice and a visiting neighbour found one of the children shouting: ‘I can’t move! It’s holding my leg!’ They had to wrestle the child from what all involved insisted was the grip of invisible hands.

The ongoing knocking was one of the most chilling aspects of the case. It would run down the wall, fading in and out as it apparently played an unnerving game with the family — who became so scared that they slept in the same room, with the light on.

Most of the activity centred on 11-year-old Janet. She went into violent trances, which were awful to behold. On one occasion, the iron fireplace in her bedroom was wrenched from the wall by unseen forces.

Family members also claim to have seen her levitating — floating clean across the room.

She told Channel 4: ‘I felt used by a force that nobody understands. I really don’t like to think about it too much. I’m not sure the poltergeist was truly “evil”. It was almost as if it wanted to be part of our family.

‘It didn’t want to hurt us. It had died there and wanted to be at rest. The only way it could communicate was through me and my sister.’

Some cast doubt on the events, however. Two SPR experts caught the children bending spoons themselves, and questioned why no one was allowed in the same room as Janet when she was using her gruff voice, apparently that of Bill Wilkins.

Indeed, Janet admitted that they fabricated some of the occurrences.

She told ITV News in 1980: ‘Oh yeah, once or twice (we faked phenomena), just to see if Mr Grosse and Mr Playfair would catch us. They always did.’

Now aged 45, Janet lives in Essex with her husband, a retired milkman.

She told me: ‘I wasn’t very happy to hear about the film, I didn’t know anything about it. My dad has just died, and it really upset me to think of all this being raked over again.’

She describes the poltergeist activity as traumatic.

‘It was an extraordinary case. It’s one of the most recognised cases of paranormal activity in the world. But, for me, it was quite daunting. I think it really left its mark, the activities, the newspaper attention, the different people in and out of the house. It wasn’t a normal childhood.’

Asked how much of the phenomena at Green Street was faked, she says: ‘I’d say 2 per cent.’

She also admitted playing with an Ouija board with her sister, just before the activity flared up at the house.

She says she was unaware that she went into trances, until she was shown pictures.

‘I recall being very distressed by the photos when I was a child, I was very upset.

‘I knew when the voices were happening, of course, it felt like something was behind me all of the time. They did all sorts of tests, filling my mouth with water and so on, but the voices still came out.’

She says: ‘It was hard, I had a short spell in the Maudsley Psychiatric Hospital in London, where they stuck electrodes on my head, but the tests proved normal.

‘The levitation was scary, because you didn’t know where you were going to land. I remember a curtain being wound around my neck, I was screaming, I thought I was going to die.

‘My mum had to use all her strength to rip it away. The man who spoke through me, Bill, seemed angry, because we were in his house.’

The situation had a huge effect on the family.

Janet says: ‘I was bullied at school. They called me Ghost Girl and put crane flies down my back.

‘I’d dread going home. The front door would be open, there’d be people in and out, you didn’t know what to expect and I used to worry a lot about Mum. She had a nervous breakdown, in the end.

‘I’m not one for living in the past. I want to move on. But it does come to me now and again. I dream about it, and then it affects me. I think why did it happen to us?’

Her brother was called ‘freak boy from the Ghost House’ and people would spit at him in the street.

Janet herself was on the front page of the Daily Star with a headline: ‘Possessed by the Devil.’

She left home at 16, and married young.

‘I lost touch with everything, all the coverage of the case in paranormal books. My mum felt people walked over her at that time. She felt exploited.’

Shortly after the Press attention drifted away, Janet’s younger brother Johnny died of cancer, aged just 14. Janet’s mother then developed breast cancer, dying in 2003, and Janet suffered the loss of her own son, in his sleep, when he was 18.

She rejects any suggestion that the whole story was faked in pursuit of fame or money.

‘I didn’t want to bring it up again while my mum was alive, but now I want to tell my story. I don’t care whether people believe me or not, I went through this, and it was true.’

Asked whether she believes the house is still haunted, she says: ‘Years later, when Mum was alive, there was always a presence there — something watching over you.

'As long as people don’t meddle the way we did with Ouija boards, it is quite settled. It is a lot calmer than when I was a child. It is at rest, but will always be there.’

Janet reports that it was a priest’s visit to Green Street that resulted in the incidents ‘quietening down’ in autumn 1978, although the occurrences did not stop entirely, she says, with her mother continuing to hear noises in the house.

Janet says: ‘Even my brother, until the day he left that place after Mum died, would say: “There’s still something there.” You’d feel like you were being watched.’

Janet said she continues to believe in the poltergeist, saying: ‘It lived off me, off my energy. Call me mad if you like. Those events did happen. The poltergeist was with me and I feel that in a sense he always will be.’ Who lives at 284 Green Street now?

After Peggy Hodgson died, Clare Bennett and her four sons moved into the house.

Last week, she said: ‘I didn’t see anything, but I felt uncomfortable. There was definitely some kind of presence in the house, I always felt like someone was looking at me.’

Her sons would wake in the night, hearing people talking downstairs. Clare then found out about the house’s history. ‘Suddenly, it all made sense,’ she says. They moved out after just two months.

One of her sons, Shaka, 15, says: ‘The night before we moved out, I woke up and saw a man come into the room. I ran into Mum’s room and said: “We’ve got to move,” and we did the next day.’

The house is currently occupied by another family, who do not wish to be identified. The mother says simply: ‘I’ve got children, they don’t know about it. I don’t want to scare them.’

Though cynics may scoff, the story of the Enfield Poltergeist has clearly lost none of its frightening power.

anonymous asked:

Being human and youre Kol's weakness and you dont even know it. Youre in love with him but you never told him cause you don't think he feels the same but obviously he does. You risk your life to save his he's furious at you. (one shot).

Everyone Has a Weakness

You were at The Mystic Grill with your best friend Rebekah, you usually hung out with The Mikaelson family, and considered yourself to be pretty close with all of them. Especially Kol.

He was always there for you. You were a human living in Mystic Falls, so the odds were never in your favor. But Kol made sure you were safe, he protected you. You had feelings for him, but he didn’t know that, you were just a human, so why would he feel the same? You decided not to tell him, and you probably never would. But you were a little worried that his siblings would figure it out. 


Kol joins you and Rebekah at the grill, you try not to blush when your talking to him, Rebekah would probably be pretty upset if she found out you were into one of her brothers. Kol went outside for some fresh air and not long after that you heard a yell, Rebekah was too busy talking to Matt to notice anything, and you knew it was stupid to go check it out, but you did anyway.

 
When you went outside you saw Stefan holding the white oak stake to Kol’s chest. Kol looks over at you. “Y/N, don’t move.” But you didn’t listen. You had a stake tucked into your boot, and you took a step forward towards them, Then Damon came out of nowhere and pinned you to the wall. The force made you drop the stake and you let out a groan in pain. “Bad idea.” Damon says with a sadistic smirk. “If you touch her I swear-“ 


"You’ll what? You’ll already be dead.” Stefan interrupts. Kol clenches his jaw. Stefan’s about to drive the stake through Kol’s heart when Klaus snaps Stefan’s neck. Damon is about to rip your heart out when Rebekah snaps his neck. 


Kol takes you back to The Mikaelson house. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” He says with neutral tone. You stay silent. “How could you do something so stupid?”
“I..didn’t want you to get hurt..I’m sorry..I’m so sorry.” He rubs his face and looks at you. “You could have died! And you’re sorry? You don’t have to save me! It’s my job to save you.” “I said I’m sorry! And I’m fine, why’re so upset?”
“Because if something happened to you I honestly don’t know what I’d do!” He exclaims. Your eyes widen. “What?”

 He sighs. “Everyone has a weakness, and you’re mine.” You half smile and tilt your head. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that…I’m..in love with you. And I never want to be the reason that you put yourself in danger, because if something happened to you..it’d be my fault, and I don’t think I could live with myself. I can’t lose you.”
You smile and run over to him and kiss him. He wraps his arms around your waist. You pull away. “You’re my weakness too, and I can’t lose you either. I love you.” His eyes widen and he smiles ear to ear. “I love you too.” Then he pulls you in and kisses you again.

Shadows in the Light

Keep reading

To You,
You remind me of Sundays.
Lie-ins; unconscious until about 11.34am when i’m woken up by the sound of single raindrops crashing against the glass of my window.
The sweet smell of milky coffee encased in Starbucks paper cups and sticky honey on freshly made pancakes in order to fuel my veins with a burning avidity.

You remind me of Manhattan.
A rented studio apartment in Brooklyn NY11226
A motionless frame that has fallen in love and expresses it by the composition of poetry and prose and 3am thoughts, transforming you into a metaphor.
Winter mornings sat upon rooftops bars lost in the view
and the vodka burns written on my insides as a result of last nights indiscretions.

You remind me of crisp autumn mornings.
Sun radiating off our chocolate skin. Threads of light transforming our eyes into cinnamon balls of light. Walks in the park traipsing through trees treading on yellow
brown
orange
red leaves that crunch underfoot creating a song to the soles of our feet.

You remind me of adventures.
Trainlines; an empty carriage. The colour green. A seat with a table and me slouched over my poetry.
Observing nature though the glass portal, gazing into another world from an Earths perspective and wandering exactly where I am and where I want to be.

You remind me of home.
Or rather, my idea of what home should be like; welcoming… inviting.
Fireplace roaring, it’s warm; congenial to my soul. Monopoly on the 25th of the 12th. Family gatherings in the living room.
The amicable nature of my creased ivory bed sheets protecting me from the monsters that reside in my white oak chest of draws that I created when I was 6, 5, 4years old. Keeping all of my secrets.

—  All these thing I find completely enticing- they are my most favourite versions of nightmares- the ones in which go terribly right. All these things remind me of something; some kind of feeling; some kind of burning sensation in the walls of my stomach and in the arteries that lead up to my heart. The same kind of feeling that I get when I think of you. Merry Christmas baby, this one is “For You,” (Y.A)