Alexander watched you, playing with a piece of scrap between his fingers. You were much more interesting than the other humans. Not innocent, per say. But, just different. And he couldn’t help but be infatuated with you. You were sitting on a bench, reading some material. If he had to guess, you were probably a college student.
A hand patted his shoulder, and he glanced, seeing Hercules standing there. Hercules was taller than the rest of them, his brawn often scaring victims away. Which is probably why the others decided to let him stand on the sidelines. Alexander sighed, his eyes flicking back to you. You were highlighting sentences, biting your lip. He smirked.
“You’ve been watching this girl for a while, Alexander. Not a good sign.” Hercules warned, leaning on the railing next to him. They were on the roof of a building, looking at you from below. It was quite a distance, not even a human with incredible eyesight could see.
Luckily they weren’t humans.
Lafayette was sitting on a crate, filing his nails. He nodded, giving John the nail filer. “He’s right, my friend. You knew what happened last time, no need to reenact a tragedy.”
Alexander ignored them. He was wondering why you were out so late, and why he hasn’t seen any of your friends yet. Building a profile on potential humans was something they always did. But he only could find you out here, on a bench, in late afternoon. Everyday.
John fixed his beanie, cursing the filer. It was already worn down. He glared at Gilbert, who gave a sympathetic smile in return. “Staring at the blood sack-”
Alexander turned back to John, an evil look in his eyes, “Don’t call her that.”
John rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Like I was saying, looking is only going to satisfy your visual needs. Our friends are right. You haven’t found any friends of hers around, so she’s probably a loner. It’s time to drain her, Alexander.”
“I’m not going to do that. She could be my muse, like Betsey,” Alexander explained, looking at all of his friends. They frowned.
They weren’t happy about it.
“No, that’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s a idiotic idea. There’s no reason for her to be your muse, you barely know her. You don’t even know her name!” John yelled, pointing at you in the ground, “For fucks sakes, what makes you think she’ll fall for you? You’re a vampire, Alexander. You suck the life out of humans and burn their bodies. You’re not good, you’re a piece of shit, like the rest of us.”
“Well, that’s just mean,” Lafayette mumbled, pouting.
Alexander’s grip on the railing became tight, his knuckles turning white. He shook his head, “You don’t know her, John. And neither do I, so don’t assume anything. And I do know her name.”
John tossed the filer to the side, walking up to Alexander, “What then, hm? What’s your muse’s name, since you’re already in love with the woman.” John’s tone was sharp. He was thoroughly irritated. The other two knew why, and Alexander knew himself. John always wanted to be Alexander’s. But he couldn’t, because he was turned into a vampire before it happened.
It was something he never got over.
“It’s Y/N, John. The fascinating woman’s name is Y/N.”
Hercules scoffed, “Well the fascinating woman named Y/N is being courted by someone. Alexander, you might want to give it a look,” Hercules turned Alexander’s head back to the scene below.
Alexander cursed, glaring at the scene below. The man he hated most in the world was down there, talking to her. That mess of a hairstyle couldn’t be missed.
Thomas Jefferson smiled at you, his sharp canines oblivious to you. He kissed your extended palm softly. If Alexander had a beating heart, it would be throbbing madly right now. He clenched his teeth, his hold on the bars causing it to break.
You laughed, and he held out his arm to you. You placed your arm inside, and he guided you away. Before the two of you disappeared from sight, Thomas glanced back, looking up at the furious Alexander. He winked, a smirk on his lips.
Lafayette widened his eyes, looking at Alexander, “What are you going to do?”
Alexander shook his head, letting go of the metal. It tumbled, falling down the side of the building.
A/N: Here is my entry for @winchesters-favorite-girl ‘s Halloween Challenge. I had ‘October 18th - spiderwebs’. It’s really short but I’ve been really busy so I apologize, hope you still like.
Warnings: like 1 swear word, Dean’s smart-ass teasing
Pairings: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader
Word Count: 480
You grimaced as you stuck out the heavy broom as far and as high as you could reach.
“Just leave ‘em up there, Y/N,” Dean said. “It’s almost Halloween anyway,” he snickered, holding the step ladder in place so you wouldn’t go tumbling.
“That’s disgusting,” you said, getting on your tip-toes. Dean shrugged.
“Me ‘n Sam’ll take care of it later. You can’t even reach, Y/N/N.”
“You and I both know that if I don’t get these now, they’re never comin’ down,” you said, grunting as you leaned forward a bit more.
“Who cares? No one can even see them,” Dean mumbled.
“I can see them!” You said, frustrated, finally making contact with the massive clump of spiderwebs stretching across a corner of the bunker’s ceiling. Dean huffed and put a foot on the lower step. You turned the broom around in your hands, twisting the webs around the bristles.
“What are you guys doing?” Sam’s voice called out from the kitchen. You turned around to face him and the broom slipped. It swung like a pendulum in your hands, pulling the webs down and scattering them every which way. You yelped as they came near your face, dropping the broom to the ground. You swatted at the air trying to get the webs off.
“Dammit Y/N!” Dean shouted. You looked down at him momentarily to see him frantically brushing spiderwebs out of his hair. Sam put down his mug of coffee and rushed to help. You leaned back and felt the ladder shift. Sam grabbed it before it could tip and forced the legs to the ground, but the sudden stop of the ladder flung you forward. Luckily, the ladder was only about 5 feet tall, but you came crashing down into Dean, sending him to the floor. You pushed yourself off of him, rolling onto your back. Everything was finally still and no one spoke a word, the only sounds being everyone’s heavy breathing. Sam’s slight chuckle interrupted the silence. You looked up at him and couldn’t help the grin breaking out on your face as you realized what just happened. You held your stomach as you laughed, turning towards Dean who just smiled and shook his head.
“You’re a dumbass,” he said, standing up. He brushed off his shirt reflexively and something actually fell to the floor. It scuttled a few feet and you shrieked, stumbling onto your feet. Sam swore and Dean slammed his boot down, promptly squishing it. You shuddered and wiped off your arms, legs, hair, and face.
“I’m gunna have the heebie-jeebies for the next week,” you said, kicking the broom further away from you.
“You should’ve just left them up there,” Sam chuckled, picking his mug back up. You looked at him with squinted eyes, offended.
“You guys are so gross,” you laughed incredulously. Sam just shrugged.
It was Halloween night and John had left you all in a musty motel room to go on a hunt leaving Dean in charge. John had ordered that Dean not leave the room under any circumstances other than to make sure that you all had something to eat and went on his way, leaving the three of you to fend for yourselves. Dean saw the sad look in both of your eyes when you realized that you wouldn’t be allowed to go trick-or-treating like you had been buzzing about for weeks.
You had even gone as far as making costumes the last time you were at Bobby’s. Costumes that the two of you refused to let either Dean or anyone else in on. So, he felt really bad about having to be the one to relay the news to the two of you, especially when he could see you trying your best to hold back your tears.
Prompt: Could you do a au like “Nicknames” Philip x reader I loved that one shot ps love you😍😍💜💙
You were washing, when the laugh stopped you. It was an innocent one, a small chuckle that was overheard. You stopped scrubbing the stupid stain on the plate, and glanced around. Philip Hamilton, son of the founding father, Alexander Hamilton, was ‘sitting’ on a stool, watching you. It wouldn’t be that unusual, besides the fact that Philip wasn’t actually solid.
He was a ghost. His figure was completely gray, besides the light silver color of his eyes. He was wiggling his eyebrows, pointing to your shirt. You glanced down, seeing nothing.
“Made you look, idiot.” He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh, yea. He was an asshole too.
You frowned, turning back around, “You know, you can just disappear. Any day now. Actually, this moment would be pretty nice. The setting is pretty great-”
“Ugh, Y/N, please. Just stop talking, you talk more than my father,” He complained, rolling his eyes at you. He was wearing a colonial aged outfit, his stomach stained with red. The place that George Eacker fatally shot the kid.
Well, he did die at 19, and you were 20. But every time you told him so, he reminded you that he was hundreds of years older than you. You pointed out that he was dead too, and he’d just glare. Anything that could rile up the pestering man was enough for you. Which is probably why the two of you did it to each other.
You scrubbed the dish violently, until you heard a crack. You groaned, seeing the imperfection make a hole in the plate. You placed it on the side, cursing to yourself. “Stupid, cheap china.”
“I’m 100 percent sure that was your fault. Just saying,” Philip commented, playing with his fingers. He was standing next to you now, his curly hair a mess on his head. He told you that he had freckles, but you couldn’t see anything. This complexion was a pale, white. The blood was dripping on the floor, but he barely noticed. And you didn’t comment either. It was visible, but impossible to touch, after all. “Oh, look at what I could do!”
He backed up, and held out his hair. A strange looking pistol appeared in his hand, and he grinned, tossing it up in the air. It didn’t look like any gun you’ve ever seen, well, not like you’ve seen many. It fired, and you jumped back, the echo ringing throughout your home. He winced, looking at you apologetically.
You stomped your foot, placing your hands on your hips. It reminded you of the stance your parent did when they were angry at you. You held out your hand.
“No guns in the house, Philip.”
He rolled his eyes, but made the gun vanish. “I can’t actually give it to you, you know. Since I’m a spirit and all.”
You didn’t reply, but just began to put the rest of the dishes away. Philip just watched you, smiling softly. You raised an eyebrow at him. The two of you have been, for the lack of a better word, “living” together for the past few months. He was an unwanted companion, but it hasn’t been all bad.
He cleared his throat, and you glanced at him. He shook his head, “Sometimes, I just… I, I would like to help you dry the dishes. But then I’m reminded that I’m dead, and it just kind of hits me.” He ran his hands through his curls, “And it fucking sucks.”
Your smile dropped from your face as you listened to him, “Philip-”
He stood back up, stretching his arms. “Anyway, I’ll be going. Have fun doing the dishes.”
Quote: 19. “Just focus on me. Everything will be fine.”
Location: 1. Haunted House
Situation: 3. Trick or treating.
Supernatural element: 23. Stupidly accurate horoscope app
Finn Balor (this was my choice)
This is fluff. For not all spooky things need to be scary.
I hope you enjoy!!!
“A rapid change is taking place in your life now, and it may be causing you some stress and worry. But isn’t this precisely the kind of change you figured you would need to resolve a few of your more pressing matters? Although this feels sudden and out of control, it will all fall into place rather quickly. And yes, this is exactly what you sought from the universe. It just seems to be taking place all at once, which can seem overwhelming. Just trust what you requested of the universe is unfolding, and let that be your comfort.”
Bennett was a smart girl, honestly. She didn’t believe everything she heard or read, not before doing her own research on the matter. She trusted science and knew better than to think her viewpoint was the only viewpoint.
That said, just for laughs, she always read her daily horoscope on an app on her phone. She didn’t put any faith in it, didn’t live her life by it, and if somehow it ever came true she just said ‘huh’ and moved on about her life. Most of the time, Bennett read it and decided it’s vagueness was a safe method to make it true for everyone.
With what? Your fangs? Alexander, this isn’t twilight we don’t have special powers, idiot,“ Hercules grumbled, "But I might.” He winked at Alexander, who clearly ignored him. What a pity.
John chuckled, “I thought you said that it was a stupid movie and you would never watch it.”
Hercules shrugged, “It was bad. Too much angst for me. But I’m still angry that Bella didn’t choose Jacob. He was an okay guy.”
“Edward was better,” Lafayette mumbled, “Although his sparkly skin was not really appealing. And the eye color changing? That was quite strange. And watching her while she slept, that was quite creepy as well.”
Alexander rubbed his face, “Are we really talking about a fucking teen movie? My muse was just taken by Thomas, and you’re debating what stupid love interest was better.”
John nodded, patting Alexander’s shoulder. Everyone could tell he was still irritated. But John was able to push his anger down. But just for a small amount of time.
“Alex is right. Let’s find his Bella, since Jacob is taking her away,” He grinned wickedly, “ Even though I always preferred the werewolf.”
Alexander pushed his hand off his shoulder, glaring at his friends. He cared deeply for them, but sometimes, he couldn’t stand their presence. They weren’t taking this as seriously as he would like. He glanced at the ground once more, before taking the emergency stairs down the side of the building. Just because his strength was greater than a human’s, doesn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt.
He heard the rest of them follow behind him. He ran down quickly, jumping off the last few staircases. Lafayette caught up next to him, smiling nervously.
“Are you actually going to kill him? I understand your motive, but it seems to be…hmm, risky. It isn’t how it was centuries ago, Alexander. You can be caught and placed in a prison. We cannot just go around and kill people.”
Lafayette knew that they couldn’t actually arrest him. The DNA that they would find at the scene would be from a man that was long dead. It would make no sense. But, he still cared for the Virginian man. Despite Alexander and Thomas’ rivalry, Lafayette was still friends with Thomas. He would hate to see anything happen.
Alexander nodded slowly, “I don’t know, Gilbert. I really don’t know,” Alexander looked at him, “Do you have any idea where Thomas would go? You know him better than all of us.”
Lafayette hesitated. Telling Alexander would hurt his relationship with Thomas. They were good friends after all. But the pleading, brown eyes that stared at him was convincing him to say it. He sighed, tugging on a loose curl. “I know. Follow me.”
He ran, and the others followed behind.
You stood outside the library, your arm in Thomas’. You weren’t expecting this location at all. In fact, a party in a room full of books seemed stupid. You held your bag close to your chest. You glanced at Thomas, and he smiled, guiding you forward.
Thomas was one of your classmates. Unlike everyone else, he was smart and studious. And he wasn’t that bad to look at, either. You were a loner, and he was the one to always talk to you. Being friends with anyone else in that class wasn’t something you would do, anyway. He was kinder than anyone you’ve met, so of course, if he invited you to a party, you would willingly go.
You let him pull you into the building. It was still a deafening quiet when you entered.
You bit your lip, moving closer to him, “Are you sure-”
He put a finger against your lip, “Shh, you’ll wake up all the vampires,” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, “I’m sure you don’t want to be a blood bag tonight.”
You rolled your eyes, “Fine. But don’t vampires come out at night, anyway?”
He didn’t answer your question, pulling you into a room.
The boys stood outside the university library. John looked confused, Lafayette looked proud, and Hercules didn’t really seem to care. Alexander, on the other hand, was looking at Lafayette, frowning.
“Why the hell would he bring her here?” He asked. Lafayette crossed his arms.
“You don’t trust me, my friend?” Lafayette said, jogging up the steps two at a time. Hercules quickly followed behind, and John shrugged, following as well. Alexander sighed, but trailed along as well.
Lafayette put a finger to his lips, opening the doors. Alexander waited for the alarm to sound, but nothing happened. John’s stomach growled, and he smiled at the others.
“Sorry, I’m hungry-”
“John, shut the fuck up,” Hercules said, nudging him. John frowned, but said nothing more. Lafayette brought them around the library, and down a back staircase. Alexander wasn’t amused.
He trusted Lafayette, but when it came to anything related to Thomas, he wasn’t the person to go to. They were great friends, until Alexander came into the picture. Lafayette was a wild card.
“We’ve been walking around for ages, how much longer?” Hercules complained, “I’m tired.”
Lafayette scoffed, “You’re tired? Hercules, you can’t be tired, it’s impossible for you to be tired. We don’t sleep.”
Hercules pouted, “Yea, but-”
“Hercules, shut the fuck up,” John said. Hercules pushed his elbow into John’s chest. John did the same, and they became a small quarrel. Alexander ignored them, moving ahead to Laf.
“Herc’s right. Where are we going?” Alex asked, watching Lafayette stand in front of a door in concentration. Lafayette glanced down at him, his mouth in a straight line. He wasn’t angry, perhaps, but maybe annoyed was a better word.
“Alexander Hamilton. How long have you known me?” He asked, still looking at the door. Alexander shrugged. “Since 1776. 241 years. I’ve known Thomas Jefferson for less than that. And we don’t talk much anymore. Alexander, you are my friend, and you will always be one of my most trusted friends. Now, please, have a sliver of confidence in me.”
He picked up a book, and the sound of gears began turning. Hercules and John stopped their feud, going to Lafayette’s side. He said nothing to Alexander guiding them through the doors.
The atmosphere immediately changed. Loud music was being played, and a crowd of people appeared out of nowhere. Alexander could spell the blood flowing through their veins, but he could also smell the stale, dried up veins. This wasn’t an ordinary party.
This was a draining party.
Alexander touched Lafayette’s arm, glancing around. Everyone looked high off of some strange substances. Fangs were everywhere. This wasn’t safe, for any of them.
“What is this?” He asked him. John and Hercules disappeared into the crowd, probably looking for someone to sink their teeth into.
Lafayette smiled, “It’s one of Thomas’ infamous parties. Don’t worry, most people in here will forget anything that’s happening. But we’re here to find Y/N, right? We cannot worry about the safety of these humans right now.”
Lafayette wasn’t talking like himself. Alexander wasn’t sure if it was the change of scenery or the hungry look in his eyes that changed him. He moved away from Lafayette, scanning the room.
That’s when he saw you.
Thomas was sitting on the couch next to you. You looked loopy, your blinking slow and confused. Alexander pushed through the crowd, trying to make it to you. Thomas’ arm was around your shoulder, and he was whispering in your ear. You giggled, playfully hitting him. Thomas pushed your collar to the side, exposing your neck. His eyes dilated.
Alexander leaped through the bodies, and pulled Thomas off of you. You widened your eyes, watching Alexander punch Thomas over and over again. His hand was bruising, and Thomas snarled, pressing his hands firmly against Alexander’s chest. He pulled him close.
“You idiot, look at her, she’s terrified of you,” His bloody lips slowly grew into a smile, “You made her scared. She’ll never love you.” He pushed him off, standing up and wiping off his lip. Thomas walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Hercules and John appeared next to Alexander, glancing back and forth between the two rivals. But Alexander was looking at you. You were curled up in a ball, your eyes wide and frightened. He tried taking a step toward you, but Herc put a hand on his chest, shaking his head. You looked away, grabbing your bag and running.
“Don’t make it worse, Alexander. Lafayette’s here, he’ll make sure she’s okay.”
You stumbled through the crowd, Alexander’s eyes trained on you. You glanced at him once more, then left the room. Alexander put his head in his hands, cursing to himself.
That was the one thought running
rampant through Emma’s mind as she lowered him into the backseat of the Bug,
trying to ignore the grunts and bitten-off moans every time he moved. Hades
had done a number on him in that warehouse. His face was bloody and
bruised, one eye swollen completely shut, and Emma didn’t want to think about
what the rest of him looked like.
He should be in the back of an
ambulance with painkillers and antibiotics and an oxygen mask to muffle the
sounds of his hurt that tore through her.
She wasn’t supposed to fall in love
It had been just another case.
One that would put her name on the map, so to speak, but still just
another case. He was just another detective, an anonymous source she was
supposed to use for information and then send back to his own career.
She wasn’t supposed to fall in
But she had. He’d tunneled
under her walls or scaled them or maybe just blown them all to Hell and crawled
into the rubble next to her.
So now what was she supposed to do?
Who could she trust?
Who would trust her?
Internal Affairs wasn’t a glorious
position. She was reviled in most precincts and outright scorned nearly
everywhere she went within the boundaries of her jurisdiction. But
someone needed to call men like Gold and Hades to task and she was good at what
If it meant she had very few people
she could call friend, then that was just a side effect of the job, wasn’t it?
She hadn’t minded. Not until
Now, when Jones needed to be in the
back of an ambulance and she couldn’t risk it - the call over the radio that
she’d nearly made on instinct had almost signed his death warrant as it was.
If Hades got wind of where Killian was, unprotected and vulnerable, it
would be the end of him.
Him, and her case, but Emma was
rapidly figuring out how little the second one mattered to her in light of the
threat to the first.
So here she was, driving across
town and out of the bustle of the city limits to an old, beat up cabin that
Jones had told her about once. The coordinates (seriously, Jones, there’s
not even an address?) input into her GPS told her she had nearly an hour to
figure out who to call for help and supplies.
God, she needed help.
He was nearly silent in the back,
crammed onto the too-small seat she’d never thought too much about before.
His knees were bent up to his chest, just within reach of her hand if she
wanted to touch him. Emma probably should have gotten him into the front
seat, at least so he could stretch out, but he’d bitten out “in the back” when
she’d opened the door and she’d nearly lost her grip on him when Killian had
tried to grab the seat lever.
So the backseat - and the illusion
of hiding from prying eyes - it was.
Emma hit a frost heave in the road
and Killian whined pitifully, letting Emma know he was still somewhat awake in
the back seat and sending her hand backwards to soothe over his knee cap
without conscious thought.
“Sorry! I’m sorry, I couldn’t
avoid it!” she begged his forgiveness, her hand tracing frantic circles over
the torn denim. His skin underneath was clammy.
“‘Sok,” Killian grunted somewhat
unintelligibly, his fingers tangling in hers. “Jus’ keep goin’.”
Emma’s fingers tightened around his
and refused to let go.
Even twenty minutes later when his
went completely limp, the backseat now silent save for his even breathing.
Thank God, she
thought as she turned off the main road at the GPS-lady’s insistence.
The road wasn’t paved.
Ten minutes - and Emma was sure,
part of her engine lost to the ‘road’ - later, and the GPS chimed her
They were in the Goddamned middle
of nowhere and there wasn’t anything resembling a cabin in sight.
“What the hell, Jones?” she muttered,
cutting what was left of the engine and unfolding herself from the driver’s
The road didn’t continue, and she
was surrounded by trees.
But she smelled smoke.
Hoping beyond hope that there was
someone who could help her, Emma locked Killian in the car and followed her
Through the trees and up a hill and
Emma was just about to turn around and curse Jones out and then drive him to a
hospital and hope that an alias would be enough to keep him safe. Then
she saw it.
The tiny little cabin with smoke
coming out of the chimney and a wrap-around porch and a snowmobile parked
outside. There was an honest-to-God lumberjack to the left of the porch,
flannel shirt stretching across his shoulders as he split wood.
If there wasn’t the idiot bleeding
out in her back seat (stop being dramatic, Emma, that’s Jones’s job) she’d
think that she’d wandered into a dream.
Or a postcard.
It was perfect.
Hoping beyond hope that she was in
the right place, Emma slip-slid down the hill towards the mountain man (don’t
call him that if you want his help, Emma) and called out so she wouldn’t
He jumped anyway.
“Can I help you, lass?”
God, the accent matched Jones’s and
if this man wasn’t related to Killian, Emma would turn in her badge.
“I… I have Killian.”
The ax slipped off his shoulder and
thudded in the snow at his boots.
“I… he needs help.”
Blood drained from the man’s face
as he stared at her. “Where’s my brother?”
was Liam Jon-
“Where is my brother?” he
shouted before Emma could process the question the first time.
Emma pointed up the hill.
“Here. In my car. I didn’t… I ran out of road.”
Liam shot past her, climbing the
hill in record pace and leaving Emma holding the keys, a little shell-shocked.
And then she realized that if Liam
was anything like his brother, he’d likely break one of her windows rather than
waiting for the keys.
“Hey! Wait for me!” she
shouted at his back, scrambling up the incline after Liam.
When she got to the car, Liam
hadn’t broken the window. He was staring inside with one hand clenched
around the door handle, trembling a little.
“Is he…” he whispered, apparently
aware that she was behind him.
Emma reached around him to unlock
the door. “He passed out about half an hour ago. But he’s all
right”—Emma shrugged at Liam’s sharp look—“more or less.”
Liam wrenched open the door and
knelt near Killian’s head. His fingers carded through his brother’s hair
and Emma felt as if she were intruding.
“I’ve got you now, little brother.
Liam reached into his pocket and
dragged out a set of keys. “There’s a path around the back of the cabin
that will bring you around here with the snowmobile.”
It was clearly a dismissal, and
Emma tried not to hiss her dislike of his orders. Killian was hers,
and Emma didn’t share her toys well.
But this was Killian’s brother, and
he likely didn’t want to share his brother, either.
And the two of them squaring off
wouldn’t get Killian inside and warm any time soon.
So Emma snatched the keys from
outstretched fingers and clomped back to the cabin.
It took longer than either of them
would have liked, but Killian was secure in the sled and Liam took over
maneuvering the machine back around to the cabin and the promise of warmth and
Emma was off the back before the
engine cut out, kneeling at Killian’s head and relieved to see one eye slitted
open and watching her.
“Hey there,” she whispered, a silly
little grin on her face. “Welcome back.”
Killian tried to shake his head.
“Didn’t go anywhere. Safe?”
“You’re safe, little brother,” Liam
cut in, undoing the straps over Killian’s chest and hips. “Let’s get you
inside and warm, aye? Then you can tell me all about this mess you’ve
found yourself in.”
Killian whined audibly, but reached
out for Liam’s arm and tried to lever himself up.
Emma and Liam leapt forward to
support him when he cried out and fell back into the metal sled.
“You wanna try the less stubborn
route this time, Jones?” Emma chided.
He sobered up quickly when Killian
didn’t have a quick retort.
“Let us do the heavy lifting this
time, little brother.”
Killian’s brow furrowed, but he
didn’t try to move again. “I think you mean younger”—he whispered and
then paused—“and I thought you said I wasn’t heavy?”
“Not what I meant and you know it,”
It took longer than Emma would have
liked, and with a lot more cursing on everyone’s parts, but they eventually got
him standing. One arm over Liam’s shoulders and Emma’s fingers snagged in
his belt loops, Killian almost looked like he was able to stand on his own.
“One step at a time, Jones,” she
reminded them both when Killian staggered forward. “We’ve got you.”
“He should be in a hospital,” Liam
“I can hear you, brother.”
“Yes, well you’re clearly incapable
of making smart decisions right now, so you don’t get a vote.”
Emma felt the way Killian bristled
and explained the situation as best she could.
“Safe here, Liam,” Killian cajoled,
limping up the steps to the porch.
Liam growled, but stopped arguing.
“Aye, little brother. You’re safe here. Let’s get you
The inside of the cabin was just as
rustic as she’d imagined. A wood-burning stove in one corner of the
kitchen and a fireplace ringed by well-loved furniture and bookshelf after
bookshelf in the living room. There were a couple doors off the main
room, the wooden beams decorated with garland that had seen better days.
“This first door’s my room, but the
back one’s his.” Liam nodded his head towards the tightly closed door as
they moved carefully past the couches.
“Bed, little brother. I don’t
want you falling off the couch.”
Emma lifted the latch on the door
and let it swing inwards, taking in the dark blues and the light wood that
filled Killian’s room. They sidled through the doorway and Liam
transferred Killian’s weight to her as he moved to turn down the well-worn
quilt and thick blankets.
Killian groaned as he was lowered
down onto the mattress but then flopped down onto his side and was nearly
unconscious again before they could get him settled.
“I’ll get the medical kit we keep
on hand if you can get him all the way in bed?” Liam asked gently.
Emma nodded silently.
“There’s more blankets in the
closet if you’re chilled, lass.”
“Emma,” she whispered, not taking
her eyes off Killian.
“Pleased to meet you, Emma,” Liam
whispered back before leaving the room.
Killian’s eye fluttered open as she
unlaced his boots and swung his feet up under the sheets. “‘M all
bloody,” he complained, trying to rise again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Emma
scolded, her hand on his shoulder. “Liam and I will get you all cleaned
He mumbled something, but it was
lost as he drifted off.
Hours later, the burns and
lacerations and bruises swathed in gauze and the clothes he’d been worried
about long gone, Killian rested comfortably under a mountain of blankets and
pillows. His head canted to one side, soft snores coming from his mouth
as he slept. Liam was sitting on the far side of the bed, one hand
resting on Killian’s shoulder as he, too, dozed in the late evening’s peace.
This wasn’t the end of things.
Killian was still in danger. Liam was in danger, now, because Emma
had brought Killian here. Hades wouldn’t take this lightly.
But there was nothing to do at the moment
but keep the Jones brothers safe. And that started with getting Killian
When a shiver coursed through
Killian, shaking her hand as it carded through his hair, Emma reached out to
tuck the blankets more tightly around his shoulders.
Hades hadn’t counted on one thing -
Emma Swan protected those she loved, and she’d never failed.
Designed by Edwin Wesson -the lesser known brother of Daniel Wesson- and Daniel Leavitt, made by Massachusetts Arms Co - serial number 618. .31 six-shot cylinder, cap and ball single action revolver, side hammer. Made in spite of Colt’s patent on the single action mechanism, the W&L 1849 belt revolver had to be modified into a manually indexed model shortly after its release on the market.
You and Alexander pressed your bodies against the door, trying with the best of your ability to keep it shut. But the beings on the other side of the door were persist, continuing to press hard against your barracks.
“We can’t hold them for much longer, Herc, where’s the bomb?” Alexander grunted, closing his eyes to concentrate.
Hercules fumbled with the wires to the bomb, his forehead sweating, “How about you try to make a small grenade in a few seconds, Hamilton. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Stop shit talking and concentrate, assholes. We’re not dying today,” You said, biting your lip. Your fingers were bloody and bruised, but you were okay. For the most part, anyway. Your arm was throbbing from the bite you received just a few moments ago.
But other than your impending doom, everything was good.
Hercules sighed in relief, finally finishing the bomb. Lafayette smiled at him, shooting a few more zombies that were coming towards the door from the window. You would usually scowl him for wasting bullets, but this time, you didn’t seem to worry much. John came running in the room, his hair matted with blood and other remnants of an undead.
He held a hand in his hands (such a weird combination, but that was besides the point), in the amputated hand, was a key. He was grinning widely, wiggling his eyebrows. Even in sure situations, he was all smiles.
“I got the bastard’s key. Took some time, but he finally handed it to me.” He winked at his pun.
Alexander couldn’t hold the door any longer. He was pushed onto the floor. You ran from the open door, the mob of zombies coming for all of you. Lafayette aimed his gun, glancing at Hercules in a panic.
“Throw the fucking thing!” He yelled. John pulled out his pistol, shooting each one that stumbled too close.
Hercules held the bomb in his hand. “Not yet…”
The mob was a few yards away.
“Herc!!!” Alexander’s voice cracked, taking out his machete from his belt, “We don’t have time for calculated choices! We’re all going to fucking die if you don’t do something!!!”
He threw it, the bomb landing in the middle of the group.
“Cover your ears!” He yelled, running away. All of you followed, cowering behind a metal cabinet. The boom rattled the room, and dead limbs flew everywhere. After a few seconds, you all stood back up.
There were a few strays, but most were gone. Hercules grinned.
“A job well done.”
You glanced outside, seeing more zombies walking towards the building. “Good, now let’s get the fuck out of here before the rest of them come.”
John took the key out of the hand, tossing the hand in the debris. “I call shotgun.”
This is part of the October Writing Challenge (31 Horrific Days) that I am participating in. I most likely will not do all 31, but will do what is requested of me. Each one shot will star a different OC, simply because I don’t want to write in second person.
#11: The character didn’t plan on any costume for Halloween this year, but their best friend/partner wants to go shopping for the perfect costumes, perhaps even as a themed pair.
Rebecca Davis was in a bit of a rut, in life, in romance, even financially, and she had neither the time nor the energy to deal with any of it.
At 23 years old, she had always figured her life would be a little bit straighter along the edges, but nope, they’re just as jagged as they had always been, curved even. Not that Becca would ever admit such a thing in a call back home - her folks were optimists, and believed in her. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, admit to being more than just a little lost.
Not only that, but it was October, which meant Halloween was almost here, which meant she had a million and two things to do for it, like choose a costume and figure out where she was going, if she was leaving candy out for kids-
Really, Becca was missing May. May was a nice month. It didn’t rain quite as much in London (sometimes), and there weren’t any semi-important holidays in May. No, Becca would have been happy to travel back in time to May. Hell, her finances were even better then.
She groaned as her phone chirped. Her feet were propped up on her couch, and she was attempting to binge-watch The Great British Baking Show without interference. But when it chirped again, Becca lunged forward and answered it, and good thing too. “Hello?”
“Hey, Becks,” Niall Horan replied, her best friend and also crush (that part, she usually ignored). In the story that was her life, Niall played an important role, ever since she moved to London two-and-a-half years ago. “Whatcha up to?”
“Watching TGBBS,” Becca answered, like her acronym was well-known.
“Ah,” Niall said quite sagely, “Well, you better be dressed, because I’m standing in your apartment lobby, waiting for you.”
She was understandably confused. Becca pulled her phone away from her face and checked the date. October 11th. “Ni, we don’t have any plans today…” she trailed off.
“Nope!” was his cheerful response. “But, I figured you weren’t up to anything, and I wanted to go costume shopping with you.”
Becca blinked. “I wasn’t really…planning on doing anything Halloween-y this year, Ni. Not with everything that’s been going on.” And there had been a lot going on lately - her other best friend was angry and not speaking to her, and, well, life just sucked in a rather general way.
Niall was quiet for a moment. “That’s why you should go costume shoppin’ with me. Get ya out of the flat and all.” His voice was surprisingly earnest.
A slow smile spread across Becca’s face, accompanied by a warming in her stomach. Butterflies, maybe. “Niall Horan, you must actually want to hang out with me. Alright. I’ll be down shortly.” She hung up without waiting for his response, turned off the TV, and hopped up to dress.
Becca feels like she’s smoldering every time she’s with Niall. There’s never any smoke to show the depth of the feelings she hides from him, but the intensity lies dormant within her anyway.
So caught up in herself, she didn’t notice Niall’s stopped at a shop, and he suddenly grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her inside. “C’mon, Becks, we’ll find somethin’ perfect in here.” He was overly eager, and she didn’t quite understand it - what was so great about this particular Halloween?
It’s safe to say she wasn’t very interested as Niall perused the shop, occasionally holding up a costume, waiting for her one-to-two word answer. Finally, he became irritated with her lack of enthusiasm and walked her over to the corner to have a little chat.
“Rebecca Davis, you’re hardly payin’ me any attention, love.”
Her response is snark. “Didn’t think you were clingy.”
Niall frowned, hurt clear in his eyes, and she sighed deeply as she rubbed at her temple. Those puppy dog eyes…they would always get her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it…you know I love hanging out with you, I’m just feeling weird today.”
“S’alright, love. I was just kinda hopin’…” Niall was sheepish, pausing to scratch at the back of his neck. He sighed deeply, shoulders dropping. “I was hopin’ we could kinda…wear matchin’ costumes. Or somethin’ like that.”
Becca feels her heart swell in her chest. Niall Horan was the sweetest man alive, this just confirmed it. And matching costumes? Wasn’t that a couple thing? She hoped she wasn’t looking too deeply into it. “Aw, Ni…okay.” She agreed easily, like she always did when it came to him.
Niall grinned, a sparkle evident in his eyes. Becca melted, but luckily he didn’t notice, instead taking her hand and leading her to the costumes. She tried to ignore how it felt to have her hand in his - Niall’s hand was warm, and so much bigger than hers.
That was the opposite of ignoring it, but oh well.
They had some disagreements on costumes, so much so that they nearly stormed out together over Becca’s objection to being a black cat - “Really, Niall, that’s so cliche!” - but luckily, she found something.
“Look! It’s Winnie the Pooh and Piglet!” Becca squealed, rushing forward and grabbing the costumes, grinning to herself as she turned towards a bemused Niall. “This is perfect! I love Pooh…” Indeed, Becca found herself caught up in a swirl of childhood nostalgia.
Niall was shaking his head, slight chuckles falling from his mouth. “And you’ll be Piglet? I thought he was a boy?”
Becca frowned and clutched the costumes closer to her chest. “Yes, but I’m being b-b-brave by even being seen out in public in a costume with you, so.” It was a fair point. Becca had long-since been a receiver of hate on social media.
Niall shrugged, giving her credit where credit was due. “Looks like I’m Pooh then.”
Her smile lit up the shop, though Niall wouldn’t tell her anything like that anytime soon. “And what an adorable Pooh you’ll be. Let’s go?”
Niall took the costumes and they checked out. He had been right, she thought as they meandered back to her apartment, stopping once so Becca could get a pumpkin cream cheese muffin - warmed - from Starbucks. She had needed to get out of the house.
And she was ever so excited to see all the pictures on Twitter of Niall dressed as Winnie the Pooh.
A few days ago, I posted that I was going to start being more open online about my illness. Today, someone sent me an article from npr that - when I read - I broke down and just started crying. One if the lead researchers at Stanford has an adult son who is affected by this illness, which is fueling his passion for answers They believe they are making headway (details in the article at the end), but the answers may be more than a decade away.
The article comes on the tails of this documentary Unrest (trailer above) and the momentum Jen Brea (the director and star of the documentary) is driving for this illness. She is an absolute bad ass by the way.
I’ve been in contact with Jen, and she seems excited to speak to me. I hope to have some resources directly from her to share with you all soon.
My best friend (who also happens to be someone I lived with for 4 years) sent me this video a day or two ago. It made him cry because he finally feels like there is hope and like I am not alone anymore. That’s how big of a deal this all is.
I’m having a pretty tough time right now physically. I’ve mentioned to some of you that it’s getting pretty bad, and I plan to make a more robust post with details about my experiences and resources (especially those that Jen gives me), but I wanted to share this video and the article because I am so excited. I feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. I am actually going to try to get into this program at standford where they are doing this testing. I understand there is a very long waiting list, but a decade is probably longer. And I’ve already lost a lot of my 20s to this. I might sound whiny, but I am so ready for this part of my life to be over. And I’m willing to do a lot to try to make it happen.
You can help. By watching this trailer and then the documentary, you add to the “awareness numbers.” The more awareness, the more pressure for funding (as we are seeing this year) and funding=research=help. BONUS: help=less 💩 emojis from me.
could you possibly reblog/post the 911 transcript ✨
Sure! There are four transcripts of note here, and as you didn’t specify which one you’re looking for I’m just going to gift you with all four. ;) One is of the segment of the call that was released to the general public and that corresponds with the timestamped transcript which can also be found on pages
15,912-15,916 of the 11k. The second and third transcripts are more interesting by far, because they include parts of the call that were never released to the general public.
The fourth transcript is from an extended audio clip and is basically a collection of key phrases heard during the shooting:
I’m going to post the remaining three transcripts under a cut, because they’re superlong and I don’t want to clog up anyone’s dash with it..
(there’s going to be alot of God and Lucifer references so be warned)
“Aren’t we supposed to hate humans? Why are you watching over one?” Hercules said, playing with his rubix cube. He’s been messing with it for years, still unable to solve it. “It’s in our genes, you know.”
Alexander took the cube out of his hand, quickly twisting and turning it, solving the puzzle. Hercules let out a scoff, examining the piece. John nodded, glancing over at Gilbert.
But he paid no mind, looking over at you. He had a right to be suspicious. At least, that’s what he thought. Your guardian angel was Thomas, an old friend of his before they fell. And he hated being called a demon. Fallen Angel had a better ring to it. Although, God didn’t think so.
“She’s, I don’t know. Thomas was cunning, even in heaven. I don’t understand why he is so fascinated with this one.”
You were talking to Thomas, smiling and laughing. He was his friend long ago, but now, Gilbert wasn’t so sure. Thomas’ hand touched yours, and your cheeks were flooded with blood. Not something a human could see, but it was all the same. A blush, is what humans called it. And a blush was only held for embarrassment, or…
“Damn, she’s in love with that prick,” Alexander mumbled, “Not the best choice, since he can’t be with her anyway.”
John nodded in agreement, Hercules grumbling on about the rubix cube. “But look at him. He’s enjoying toying with her. I’m sure he knows. I wonder if he forgot who’s supposed to be the evil ones.”
“Are we really evil, though?” Alexander asked, “The angels in heaven were as weary as us. But they weren’t brave enough to fall. I get staying in His favor, but…”
“We are evil, Alexander. Grim Reapers are neutral, bringing the souls to Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. Angels enlighten the souls, bringing them to the peak of goodness, almost insufferable, essentially. We are an essential part of Hell. We are there to make their stay horrendous. Or did you forget the torture?” Hercules said, throwing the cube to the side in frustration, “And that’s the fun part.”
No of them actually liked to torture. There were some of the Fallen that couldn’t wait to get their holy hands on the condemned souls, but these four didn’t fall for that reason. Gilbert was still bitter about that, too. And being stuck in this human form, without his wings, was even worse. The brittle, broken ones that they wore on their backs were useless. The horns were nonexistent, though. The Hell souls wore horns, the Fallen that guarded Hell did not. It would be silly.
But then again, Lucifer loved silly.
Thomas grinned at you, swiping a hair of yours to the side. You looked down, a small smile on your lips. He was breaking the rules. He wasn’t discouraging you from loving him. He was making you fall even harder. Gilbert clenched his fists on his chair.
They were all watching this from Hell, in their shared office. Since they were the powerful archangels that fell in heaven, they were powerful down here as well. But, that still gave them limits. They were allowed on Earth when they pleased, but they had to inform Lucifer before doing so. They weren’t the ones to torture, but they watched the other demons do it. He clicked his teeth. That word still gave him a bad taste in his mouth.
Gilbert looked towards John. “Call Lucifer, tell him we are on our way to Earth.”
John nodded, but stopped dialing, looking at Gilbert, “Why are we going?”
Gilbert glanced back at the monitor. Your hand was entwined in Thomas’, your hand resting on your chin. You were beautiful for a human, your soul pure. Something that Gilbert wanted to taint. Not for your good. But definitely to persuade Thomas from bothering you. Even if he was your guardian angel.
“To get her soul.”
John ended the call, glaring at Gilbert, “We’re not in the soul taking business, Gil. Just because she’s pure, that’s none of our business. God would want her, we want the best ugly souls out there. Murderers, people of that sort.”
Alexander rolled his eyes, “John, but a pure soul is one that everyone wants. Imagine what Lucifer would do to her,” His lip twitched.
Remember when Gilbert pointed out that they didn’t like torture? He still wasn’t too sure about Alexander sometimes.
“I agree,” Hercules said, “I want some pure souls, and maybe we can be rewarded in some way. Maybe taking soul-extracting duty. Lee tells me that it’s rewarding.”
Gilbert let out a breath, “We’re not-” He sighed, rubbing his forehead, “No. This is not for rewards. Just, follow my plans, alright?”
All of them stared at Gilbert. Hercules didn’t care much for his motive, he just liked disrupting the Angels work. It was fun, he thought. Alexander would follow Gilbert to the end of time by his side. He would still wonder why, since Thomas wasn’t a bad friend to Gilbert. Even when he fell, Thomas still treats him with civility. But Alexander? Not so much.
And John, the one who stared at him with admiration for years. The one who questioned everything, was not for this. He didn’t want to know why Gilbert wanted you, but he wanted to stop it before it went further. But he couldn’t help but look at Gilbert’s eyes when he stared at you through the screen. His clenched jaw, the flickering eyes, his tight fist. He was jealous.
And John was scared of why.
“Don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be watching,” John said, giving Gilbert one last look before dialing God’s most loved angel.