Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2019-12-14 11:22 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2019-12-14 11:22 pm
Entry tags:
- canon: leverage,
- canon: psych,
- canon: supernatural,
- canon: teen wolf,
- canon: wynonna earp,
- leverage: eliot spencer,
- prompts: get your words out,
- psych: shawn spencer,
- ship: dean/wynonna,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- supernatural: sam winchester,
- teen wolf: cora hale,
- wynonna earp: michelle gibson,
- wynonna earp: nicole haught,
- wynonna earp: waverly earp,
- wynonna earp: wynonna earp
get your words { 2020 } challenge tracking
Directory:
PERSONAL GOALS:Yearly Goals Reading List
OFFICIAL CHALLENGES:2/3/20 January Prompt: Tarot Cards COMPLETE February 2020 2020 Leap Day Challenge COMPLETE 2/26-27/20 Roll the Dice Challenge COMPLETE 3/8-14/20 Catch-Up Challenge COMPLETE 2020 Complete GYWO Yahtzee COMPLETE 3/31/20 March Challenge: Listing COMPLETE 4/20-26/20 7 Days, 7 Stories COMPLETE 4/29/20 Stop, Drop, Write COMPLETE 4/30/20 April Challenge: End It COMPLETE 5/31/20 Ten Minute Challenge COMPLETE July 2020 Mid-Year Marathon INCOMPLETE August 2020 Mid-Year Marathon COMPLETE 7/25/20 Christmas in July Challenge COMPLETE 9/11-12/20 Two-Day Challenge COMPLETE 9/21/20 Challenge: Wallflower COMPLETE 10/14-20/20 Nano Prep Challenge COMPLETE 11/29/20 Challenge: Title COMPLETE 12/11/20 Stop, Drop, Write Challenge COMPLETE 12/27/20 December Challenge: Keep it Brief COMPLETE
PERSONAL GOAL: YEAR GOALS
PERSONAL GOAL: READING LIST | 8/26 - MOVED TO GOODREADS
2/3/20 | january challenge: tarot prompts | villagers | 403 | COMPLETE
Trees, leaves, grass – all greener than anything in Chicago has been in a long time. Ever since the force behind the Wall started gaining ground, things have only gotten colder and colder, covered in snow as things became more challenging to grow. Wherever he is now is certainly not where he was before Cassandra cast her spell. A spell he doesn’t know why she cast in the first place. In true Cassandra fashion, she didn’t exactly give a lot of information before she acted. She only cast the spell and sent him away.
Away from the Wall. Away from Chicago. Away from Iris.
It’s been a long time since Barry has genuinely tried to tap into the speed force. He had been content where he was because Iris was there. There were pragmatic excuses, to be sure – Barry didn’t know what Earth he was on, so charting a course back to his own would be difficult, especially without Cisco to guide the way. But in reality, with Iris at his side, he was willing to forgive most multiversal kidnappings, and they built a life there over time.
But now, he doesn’t have that stabilization. And if Cassandra is callous enough to take him away from the woman he loves, then he’ll have to prove to her how wrong she was to make that mistake.
He can already feel himself warming in this new climate, his sluggish cells starting to find life again. He starts to take off at an easy jog, letting himself warm up as he puts himself through his paces before picking up and feeling the spark of the speed force beneath him. He surges into it like an old friend, feet pounding into the soft dirt and feeling the world open in front of him.
He’ll find his way home to his fiancée, one way or another.
february 2020 | 2020 leap day challenge | goal: 2,900 in 1 day | COMPLETE
2/26-27/20 | roll the dice challenge | goal: 4,266 | COMPLETE
TOTAL: 4,373
3/8-14/20 | catch-up challenge | goal: 6,400 | COMPLETE
TOTAL: 6,435
2020 | complete gywo bingo | running points total: 260 | COMPLETE
3/31/20 | march challenge: listing | 102 | COMPLETE
Shopping:
To Do:
Dream Places to Visit:
To be Returned:
Five Things Always Being Put Off:
4/20-26/20 | 7 days, 7 stories | goal: 7/7 | COMPLETE
GRAND TOTAL: 10,444
4/29/20 | stop, drop, write | psych/leverage | 583 | COMPLETE
"Shawn ..."
"You cut your hair?!"
"Yes, I ..."
"You cut your hair?!?!?"
Eliot gives him a look that seems to silence him, at least for the moment. "Is this really the important thing you want to talk about right now?"
"Yes, actually, it is," Shawn huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Because clearly this means you're devoid of your superhero-like abilities to punch dudes in the face and therefore useless."
Eliot's eyes narrow at him in response. "That's not how your hair works."
"Oh really?" Shawn holds up his hand, ticking each option off in his fingers as he goes. "Samson. Garth from Wayne's World. Jackie Chan in Shanghai Noon." There's a pause, and he throws in one more. "Rapunzel."
Eliot's lips into a thin line, before shaking his head. "Why am I here, Shawn?"
"Originally it was because Gus and I took a potentially violent case. I heard you were in town visiting Dad and thought that maybe we could get in some cousin bonding time while making sure I don't get beat up by gang members but now, you're clearly useless, so I'm not sure why I bothered."
"Great. Then I'm gonna go." Eliot turns to head towards the door, not really wanting to be subject to any more of his cousin's shenanigans. He takes a few steps, heading past the wide window of the Psych office when something darts out of the corner of his vision and he stops.
There's footsteps behind him, and Shawn's voice. "I thought you were - "
"Shh!" Eliot closes his eyes, taking in his surroundings. More flashes of movement outside the building and he holds out an arm to keep Shawn from moving past him. "Don't move."
"What? What is it? Is it ninjas? Are we about to be attacked by ninjas right now?"
Eliot turns towards his cousin, glaring at him to be quiet, before the door to the office opened and one of the thugs stepped inside. Eliot's hand curls into a fist, his stance shifting ever so slightly, and Shawn takes a step back.
"So this is bad then?"
"Yeah, I'd say it's bad."
"You got this?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Cool. I'm gonna go hide under a table and watch."
Eliot smirks. Normally he might be offended, but Shawn is at least aware that sometimes it's better to not be in his way. "You do that." Shawn disappears, and Eliot turns his attention back to the rest of the group and raises an eyebrow before stating, calm as can be: "You're trespassing."
"Our beef isn't with you, man. We're just here for the psychic."
"You want the psychic, you have to go through me."
The men glance between each other for a moment, before shrugging. "Guess that's how it'll have to be."
Eliot can't help but grin. Later, much, much later, he has a feeling these guys are going to wish they said no. but now they're at his mercy, and when it comes to his family, it's very clear that Eliot doesn't have much.
"Good. I was looking to punch something today."
Even then, they're still not sensible enough to run away.
Unfortunately, that's their loss.
4/30/20 | april challenge: end it | spamalot | 408 | COMPLETE
For days, it’s been an endless parade of mourners and various pack dignitaries coming to visit and pay their respects and renew allegiances with the new alpha. Jason takes Laura home, giving her time to recoup and grieve a little on her own. Peter hasn’t been by the house all day, mourning in his way. Derek and Fiona retreat with their children to their own home. Cora even convinces Stiles to go ahead without her, give her some time to clean up.
(He doesn’t want to. Cora knows that. But she also doesn’t think she can stand to be around other people at the moment, and distracting him with the kids seems like the thing to do.)
The house is empty.
Her parents’ scents still linger in the walls, for now. It’s not going to last. Weeks will pass, even months, and eventually, the rooms will all fade to memories. Derek was talking about her taking the house one day, long before any of this happened, but this wasn’t how she wanted to get it. She didn’t want to get it because her father didn’t wake up one day, and her mother didn’t have the heart to keep going.
She finds her way to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh. Every bit of her aches from the constant moving and taking care of everyone else. Despite how tired she is, she still doesn’t want to sit. She wants to find something to do, somewhere to move to, but there’s nothing left.
Nothing left to clean, no one left to distract her—just an empty house where her parents used to be.
One hand reaches for one of the nearby pillows, tugging it on to her chest. She leans in, pressing her nose into the fabric, where the scents of her family mingle. Some of them are fresh and new, but underneath all of it, there’s her mom’s shampoo or her father’s cologne. Her chest tightens, and she can’t hold it back any longer. Tears break free, streaming down her cheeks and into the fabric as her body wracks by sobs.
Stiles will feel it, she knows. He’ll come eventually. But for now, she just wants to cry, and get as much of it out as she can.
It’s the end of an era. And because of it, Cora’ll take her own time to say goodbye.
5/31/20 | ten minute challenge | original | 363
Liam’s two companions lift their eyes to the sky at the question, squinting in unison at the dark shadow approaching from the south. Jessa is quick to dismiss it, shaking her head before going back to packing up her spell books and bedroll.
“It’s likely just a bird.”
“Seems rather large for a bird at that distance,” the ranger, Morton, frowns as he continues to look at the shape.,
“Maybe it’s a big bird,” she sighs. “What does it matter – by the time it reaches here, we’ll be gone.” She glances around the rest of the camp, then back to her friends who are staring, transfixed. “Or we could be if the rest if you would get packing.”
Liam snaps his head towards her and flashes her an awkward, crooked smile, before doing as he’s told. “You’re right. Probably nothing.”
Morton, on the other hand, doesn’t respond. Instead, he leaps towards the nearest tree, grasping the lowest branch and hoisting himself into the trees. Jessa’s hands flop out towards her sides as she watches him go.
“By the gods, is he trying to make us late?” She pauses to raise her voice, so she’s shouting up towards the canopy of the trees. “There’s a lot of money riding on this, Morton!”
Morton doesn’t respond again, pushing himself upwards with his usual ranger grace. All the same, the shadow continues to get larger and larger, creating a much more ominous presence in the sky. “That’s no bird,” he finally acknowledges, shouting down from his perch.
“Of course, it’s a …” Her voice trails off as she turns to look again, but this time, she’s dumbstruck by what she sees. “ … dragon.”
“What?” Liam frowns, turning towards the sight. Now, he can make out the details – large leathery wings supporting a much more substantial scaly body, reptilian ridges, and crowns across his back. And most importantly, a great, gaping maw with a spark of molten flame leaking against the corners. His eyes widen in surprise, and he scrambles to grab his things. “Oathkeeper preserve us. We should run, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes,” Jessa nods, grabbing her things. “Yes, we should.”
july 2020 | mid-year marathon | goal: 21,223 | INCOMPLETE
WEEK 2
WEEK 3
WEEK 4
RUNNING COUNT: 15,491
august 2020 | mid-year marathon | goal: 21,223 | COMPLETE
WEEK 2
WEEK 3
WEEK 4
RUNNING COUNT: 23,738
7/25/20 | christmas in july challenge | supernatural/wynonna earp | 1,415 | COMPLETE
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire … Jack Frost nipping at your nose …
Bing Crosby blares from a speaker somewhere in the house as the Winchesters pull up to the front of the Earp Homestead. Snow drizzles down from the sky, and they can both hear the sound of laughter and music from the front door. It’s been more life then Dean’s seen in the old place since he’s known Wynonna, and it warms his heart a little, given how far they’ve all come.
The two Winchesters pile out of the car, making their way up to the front of the house. Without hesitating, Dean reaches for the door to burst across the threshold. Given some of the things Waverly warned him about, he probably shouldn’t, but this place has become more a home to him than anywhere else he’s ever lived, and Wynonna’s always said he could let himself in whenever he came. Presents for various Purgatorians in hand, he grins and proclaims to the rest of the house.
“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”
“That’s my line.” Wynonna’s head pops around the corner from the kitchen, wearing the best onesie he’s ever seen, and she laughs. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Waverly starts thundering down the stairs soon after, her bright grin complimenting her gingerbread man ugly sweater. “You made it!”
Dean points to Wynonna’s sister as though to say that’s why before making his way closer to Wynonna. “Wavery called, mentioned something about her dad possibly being an angel, and I figured it might be worth it to drop in and check it out ourselves.” He smirks as he wraps an arm around her waist. “Nice onesie, by the way.”
“Didn’t think you were an onesie kind of guy.”
“I dunno, it’s growing on me.” He laughs as she loops her arms around his neck. “Also, I thought I’d see if there’s anything you guys might want to drop off in Sioux Falls.”
Wynonna’s smile falters, just slightly, before she pushes up on her toes to kiss him. “So did Waverly happen to mention …”
“Who the hell are these two?”
Both Winchesters' heads turn at the accusation to see Michelle Gibson, spatula in hand, staring at the two men greeting her daughters with a look of concern. Waverly flashes her a bright smile in return.
“Momma, this is Sam and Dean.” A beat. “We mentioned Sam and Dean, right? Or the Winchesters?”
Michelle’s stare doesn’t change. “No, I think I would have remembered something like that.”
“Right. Well, Sam and Dean are friends. They help us with Revenant stuff sometimes.”
Dean glances over to Wynonna, and Wynonna looks back at him, a silent conversation that lasts for about a second before the man shrugs, indicating that Wynonna should do with it what she wants.
“Chickenshit.”
He smirks. “She’s your mother.”
“Yes, I am,” Michelle’s eyes narrow again. “Spill it. Now.”
Wynonna huffs, before gesturing to the man next to her. “Dean’s my soulmate, Mom.”
Dean holds up his hand and waves. “Hi.”
Michelle lowers the spatula, just slightly. “Soulmate? You neglected to mention you had a soulmate, Wynonna.”
Wynonna shrugs. “It just … hadn’t come up yet.” She pauses, before pointing to the table. “We should get eating. I’m hungry. You boys hungry?”
“Starving, actually,” Dean offers, wanting to get away from the intense stare the Earp matriarch was piercing him with, but before he can get too far, Michelle reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him to the side. He can see Sam and Waverly sneaking around to the other side of the kitchen, and he flashes them a look. They ignore him and continue to escape.
“No, no, not so fast.” She turns and points to Wynonna. “What about you and Doc?”
“That’s a much longer and more complicated story,” Wynonna hedges. “But basically, I met Dean several years ago, and then we went our separate ways before we realized what was happening, and Doc happened somewhere along the way. We’ve worked it out. We’re adults.”
Michelle snorts. “Yeah. Sure, you are.”
Dean opens his mouth to protest, and he feels a hand on his shoulder to slow him, followed by the throaty sound of Nicole’s voice. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Michelle. He’s both of their hall passes.”
Wynonna glances over with a laugh, and Dean squints at Nicole. “I told you that in drunken confidence.”
“And you thought that would keep her mouth shut? A drunk Haught is a loose-lipped Haught.”
Michelle still looks confused, like she’s missed the first half of the story and is coming in in the middle, which to be fair, she was. Dean knows he’s going to wind up with the third degree later, but thankfully Sam comes to his rescue with that Sam Winchester Parent CharmTM.
“This smells delicious, Michelle.”
Her stern looks falter in the face of Sam’s sincerity, and she glances between the two men. “Please tell me you two aren’t vegan.”
Dean laughs, before shaking his head. “No, ma’am.”
Michelle nods, before gesturing them to follow her into the kitchen. “Good. Then let’s eat.”
The third degree comes later, after dinner, and the ones not remaining in the Earp house disappear, including Sam. The minute Michelle zeroes in on Dean, Sam takes Dean keys, leaving the Earp house as though nothing’s happening.
“Watch out for black ice!” Waverly calls after him, before turning back to the group. She flashes her mother a smile, before reaching forward and taking Nicole’s hand. “Well, we’re going to head upstairs to bed. See you guys tomorrow?”
“Wait up, Waves.” Wynonna darts away from Dean and back towards her sister and Dean realizes very quickly that he’s being abandoned. His mouth gapes, but before he can start to go after them, he’s fixed with a glare from Mama Earp and finds himself glued to the floor.
“Sit down, Dean.” The way she says his name makes him feel six inches tall, but he does his best not to let it show. But he does sit down and brace himself for whatever comes next.
By the time he arrives back up at Wynonna’s room, he closes the door quietly behind him and points back over his shoulder.
“Your mother is terrifying.”
Wynonna laughs. “Where do you think I got it from?”
Dean shakes his head before moving over to sit on the edge of the bed, finally starting to get out of his boots and clothes from the drive up. “She was sure to threaten all of my manhood if my behavior was not up to her standards.”
“What about if you live up to my standards?” She grins wickedly in his direction, and he laughs.
“I’m not sure your standards measure up to anyone else’s.”
“Good.” Her fingers curl in his shirt as she pulls him in for a warm kiss. “Because my standards are the most important.”
Dean’s quick to give in, turning to face her more as she pulls him into bed. Everything after that quickly melts into the warmth and contentment that he’s found, somehow. They may both be broken in distinct ways, but coming home to Wynonna always makes him feel whole.
As they settle into the afterglow, he slides an arm around her shoulders and curls in closer. “Maybe we should do this Winchester-style next year.”
Wynonna raises an eyebrow. “What is Winchester-style, exactly?”
He shrugs as he settles again, eyes turning up to the ceiling. “We’re still kind of … defining that, after getting Sam out of his ‘Christmas is Awful’ phase.”
“A phase that he still seems to be in.”
Dean holds up a hand as he clarifies. “We’re working on it. He just needs a little positive reinforcement.”
Wynonna snorts. “Yeah. Sure he does.” She then waves a hand. “Anyway, a Winchester Christmas, continue.”
“We could go to Sioux Falls. Jody would make a nice spread.”
Wynonna’s face falters because she knows what else waits for them in Sioux Falls. Dean wants Mary’s Christmases to be better than his were, to have her parents there with presents and food. But he also knows that too much is still at stake for that in Wynonna’s mind. Ending the curse has to come first. Again, she rolls over to face him more, rubbing his hand against his chest.
“We take care of Bulshar first. Then, we’ll see about a Winchester-style Christmas.”
Dean nods, pulling her in closer. “Deal.”
9/11-12/20 | two-day challenge | goal: 3,000 | COMPLETE
RUNNING COUNT: 3,051
9/21/20 | challenge: wallflower | original | 608 | COMPLETE
He had had enough of that in his early life. He didn’t want it to be in his married one. Frankly, I didn’t want that either. You can’t touch anything in a museum – and this discovery I desperately wanted to feel.
“You told us to stop if we found anything,” Becker, the builder, replied as he looked back at me for some clue as to how to proceed. “You want it?”
“Yes!” I grinned, making my way gingerly through the construction zone. I stopped on the clear spot on the floor next to him and leaned in to get a closer look. “The box looks pretty fragile. Any chance you have a bigger one that I can put it in?”
“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Becker steps back, and I crouch down, delicately picking up the lid of the box to see what’s inside. The paper top nearly disintegrates in my hands, but underneath is a leather-bound volume, tied with a string. Becker returns a few moments later, holding out a box for me to use.
“Thank you,” I sing-songed as I took the box by the bottom, holding it all together as I lifted the contents and carefully moved them into the new package. Becker watched me curiously before passing the box to me to carefully stow away.
“Think anything is interesting in there?”
“Oh, most definitely,” I smirked. “But that depends on your range of interesting.” Becker didn’t seem all that interested in listening to me ramble about the home lives of early American colonizers, so I spared him. I patted him on the shoulder as I turned to head out to the finished kitchen. “I’ll let you know if it’s super good.”
“If you’re going to sell it for money, I want a finder’s fee,” he called after me, and I tossed him a thumbs up. It’s a good idea to keep those who might find these things for you happy. At least, that was my personal opinion.
After gathering a few much-needed supplies, I gently pulled the leather-bound book out of the box and carefully laid it out in front of me. I slowly, delicately, lifted the cover, and found neatly written pages. It’s not in a language I can read, though some of the words and phrases seem familiar, the thing that stands out is how the pages were formatted. Ingredients and measurements, with neatly delineated steps – it has to be a cookbook.
Personal items were always my favorite to find. It was such a snapshot into the world this woman (or man! You never know) lived so long ago. I read through the pages carefully, taking pictures with my smartphone for me to blow up and try to translate later. Maybe it’s the kind of nerd that I was, but the idea of cooking the meals that were cooked by the people who lived in the house first sounded like the best thing I could do.
As I reach the end of the book, my phone vibrates with a call from my husband. A grin crossed my face as I answered, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hey, babe. Want to help me translate an old cookbook when I get home?”
He laughed. “You just say the sweetest things.”
10/14-20/20 | nano prep challenge | goal: 1,667 words/day | COMPLETE
GRAND TOTAL: 9,658
11/28/20 | challenge: title | "strangers during dark moon" | 716 | COMPLETE
The small witch community tends to draw power from celestial events, and even the half or quarter moons tend to carry festivals and celebrations as the witches work their rituals for the month. They are days of fire and dancing, as each phase of the moon renews their energies and pushes them further. But the new moon is a time for rest and reflection, for taking advantage of the quiet to attend to themselves.
Justina’s mother sits on the porch in the low light, watching her daughter as she tends to the fire pit in front of their tiny hutch. It’s been just the two of them for some time, with her father and brother away on one of the few hunting cycles a year.
“Be careful, Justina,” Allara sighs as she mends one of the garments on a stack of clothes next to her. “We don’t want the fire to burn too fast.”
“I know,” Justina sighs, changing the angle of her fingers so that the flames don’t come too high. Purple sparkles dance around her fingers, and the fire responds in return, swirling through the night over the dried wood beneath. “The faster the fuel burns, the more we waste feeding it.”
“Good,” Allara smiles before leaning back in her seat. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? The sign of a fruitful harvest.”
“Don’t we need more light for that?” Justina teases, and her mother laughs.
“That is for the concerns of the day. The night is simply an omen of things to come.”
Justina shakes her head, sitting down on the outskirts of the fire so she can feel it’s warmth. Their guard is entirely down, relaxed and happy, and in the future, she will look back on this moment with regret. As Justina tips her head back, keeping her hair away from the flames. She closes her eyes, letting the magic of the earth flow through her, back into her fingers and up into her arms, when she feels the land tremble, a warning echoing back at her that trouble is on the way.
Eyes widening, she straightens, and her mother looks down from the porch at her with concern.
“What is it?”
“Something’s coming.”
A twig snaps in the distance, echoing through the silence, and for a moment, Justina thinks it might have been the crackle-pop of the fire, but as she turns, she can make out the shadows of people stepping out of the tree line.
They wear clothes and carry weapons she doesn’t recognize. As Justina pushes to her feet, she feels the magic charge in her fingers, a response to her fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. She backs up to the porch towards her mother, drawing her magic into view with a matching purple shimmer.
One person steps into view, wearing what would likely pass for elegance on any other planet. He holds up his hands in a placating manner, offering them a broad smile intended to be disarming. “Hello,” he greets them. “I promise we don’t mean you any harm. We only wish to speak.”
“Who are you?” Allara demands, holding herself steady and strong.
“We work for an institute that trains young magic users such as yourself. We think that your daughter has great promise, and we’d like her to come study with us.”
Allara shakes her head. “No. She is needed here.”
The placating smile flickers, for a moment becoming something more sinister. “It’s for the girl’s betterment, don’t you see?”
“Not her betterment.” Allara shakes her head. “I’ve seen men like you before. You simply want to use her power for your ends, and you will not take my daughter somewhere I can’t follow.”
Justina watches the other men with him and their weapons, and in an instant, she knows that this isn’t going to end well. She can already see them tensing, preparing to strike them both down where they stand.
“Mama,” she says softly. “Be careful.”
Allara turns to her daughter, as she raises her hands in response. “Everything will be fine.”
The gentleman drops his hands, and everything friendly about him is gone in an instant. “So be it. We do this the hard way.”
After that, nothing was ever okay again.
12/11/20 | stop, drop, write challenge | everyone lives | 534
It’s a complicated thing, agreeing to be the focus of the kind of magic that his parents tend to practice. The offerings, the blood, the ritual. He’s known for a long time that whatever they make their bargains with isn’t good, doesn’t aim for the light. Not that they ever claimed that that was the case. “Goodness” was never a part of the program. They never claimed that they were fighting for the light.
They only said that they were right.
Still, there’s not much you can do against the will of your parents. They laid him out on the table as they go through the motions, painting ancient sigils and patterns against his skin. Closing his eyes, he tries to drown everything else out and try and center himself, but the growing feeling of magic buzzing around him only confuses that further.
He knows how rituals like this work. He knows that he needs to both stay in control and give himself over to it at the same time, and that’s not the kind of thing that’s easy to balance. Eventually the fingers step away, and he opens his eyes again, glancing down at the two people standing at his feet.
“You’ve got this, Davey.” His mother nods. “Just relax.”
He tips his head back again, staring up at the ceiling as they begin to chant. He keeps his breathing low and even as the power begins to build, allowing himself to trace the matrices of their magic until he feels it.
The crack in the dam.
Something slips through before they can shore it up and all too soon, the smoke is flooding his mouth and nose, slipping into him. He tries to fight it off, hold it back somehow, but it’s not enough. Soon he feels like his own awareness is slipping away, horrified as he’s pushed back to being a passenger in his own body.
“Well, well, well.” It sounds like his voice, but he doesn’t remember speaking. His arms flex without his command, breaking the binds holding him down and allowing him to flex his muscles. “This is a mustang you’ve put me into.”
David tries to thrash back against his confinement, pounding against the box he’s been stuffed into with as much frustration as he can muster, but it doesn’t do any good. He barely is aware of the conversation happening around him, about him, all he can do is wait for a change in the status quo.
“He’s strong too.” The demon flexes his fingers and David can feel magic surging through him, pushing back against his parents’ magical binds. “Yes, I like this offering quite a bit.”
“He is but a vessel,” David’s mother demands, somewhere in the distance. “You will return him once you give us what we want.”
“Oh, will I?” The demon smirks, David can feel his own lips twitch in amusement. “You’re going to have to catch me first.”
After that, everything goes sideways, and David just buries himself further down into the darkness. The demon’s voice, this time within his own mind, chuckles in response.
Oh, relax, kid. We’re gonna have some fun.
december challenge: keep it brief | original | 100
One! He hears the count start. Two! His opponent’s feet shuffle against the canvas mat, ready to celebrate his victory. Three! Nick struggles to push up, shaking aside the fuzzy feelings.
Four! His arms give out, and he drops. Five! Cheers start up again, but he ignores them. Six! Closing his eyes, he takes a long slow breath. Seven! He gets his gloves under him, using the adrenaline surge to get moving. Eight! Nick sways slightly, but holds steady.
His gloves come up, and the fight begins all over again.