#Couldn’t just cover Annabel in black this time

[coconut530]

Stephpotterdrawtober & 31 Days of Nevermore Day 23: Eyeless & Lover’s Leap

[secretly-a-catamount]

A collection of all current Malcabel fics that have been written by me, because i’m insane about them (positive) and have been debating which one I should work on next

Currently Untitled | Finished Beach Fic

  It was all Catarina Loss’s fault really.

  “Honestly, Malcolm,” the sky blue warlock had told Annabel’s husband when he’d called her positively panicking about being in charge of her (many times removed) nieces and nephews for a day, “why don’t you and Annabel just take the kids to the beach?”

  Trusting his friend’s judgment more than his own had been a rather terrible idea, Annabel thought amusingly as she watched the blond warlock race down the shoreline, waving his arms like a mad man, shouting that under no circumstances were the children to poke at that beached jellyfish with a stick, yes, Tiberius, even if it was already dead.

  After some whining (the children) and some poorly concealed begging (Malcom), the Blackthorn kids dispersed into the water and across the sand.

  Malcolm trudged back up the beach, and stood at the edge of the shade thrown by the umbrella stabbed into the ground.

  Annabel looked up from her drawing pad, her black brows furrowing in irritation at the shadow abruptly cast over her sketchbook. “You’re blocking my light.”

  His pale skin flushed a delicious raspberry red as he stammered out an “Oh, right, sorry” and moved to sit beside her on the blanket, smiling sheepishly. After a moment of comfortable silence, Malcolm absentmindedly ran his hand down her arm, stopping only to trace the black lines, curves, and whorls of her Runes. His touch was soft and light as a feather. “What are you drawing?”

  “You obviously.”

  “Obviously.” A pastel sketch of Malcolm in his striped black-and-white bathing suit, looking tall and thin and almost frail, with a softness to his frame and features that matched his disposition. A faint salmon-pink sunburn covered his face and shoulders, and his lips were cracked (Annabel would solve that one way or another, either by gifting him the tube of chapstick she’d squirreled away in her purse or by kissing him until he couldn’t breathe).

  “The kids.” Ty and Livvy and some golden-haired Mundane boy that Annabel didn’t know chasing a seagull. Mark and Helen teaching Tavvy how to build a sandcastle. Dru, Julian, and a different golden-haired child that Annabel didn’t know, this one a Shadowhunter girl with a spill of bright curls and a practice training sword, diving into the ocean and swimming around in the shallows.

  “Church.” The fat, blue feline crouched down in the dunes, fluffy tail held erect, eyes focused on a mouse in front of him, mere seconds away from a pounce that Annabel knew would end in failure.

  “The L.A. Institute.” An imposing building that Annabel didn’t think could ever have the ability to look homely.

  “Home.” A snapshot of their living room, a Polaroid pinned with a paper-clip for reference, Malcolm’s latest draft of the Codex — her illustrations not yet accompanying his neat, meticulous writing — spilling off the end table onto the soft, red couch, one of Annabel’s favorite mugs (which would always be filled with tea, Annabel and Malcolm both hating the taste of coffee) filled with paint-streaked paint brushes and colored pencils.

  “And my first love, the sea.” Cerulean and cobalt-blue waves crashing to the shore.

  “Should I be jealous?” Malcolm had moved from her arm to her hand, gently interlacing their fingers together.

  “Oh, immensely. I’m definitely leaving you for the ocean.”

  Malcolm’s laughter was interrupted by a shriek of pain.

  With a quickness that could belong only to a Shadowhunter, Annabel leapt to her feet. Heart hammering, she scanned the beachfront with frenzied eyes, her fingers itching to pull the wickedly-sharp daggers from the sheath she wore on her ankle . . .

  There — there was no danger present other than one of the children perhaps twisting their ankle. It hadn’t been a scream of pain, but a shriek of childish delight as Dru and Julian teamed up to toss the golden-haired girl — Annabel wanted to say her name was Emily? — into the shallow waves with a mighty splash of saltwater.

  Collapsing to the ground as quickly as she’d risen, Annabel scrubbed at her face, her eyes starting to sting with tears. This was how it always was whenever she and Malcolm left home, whenever they left Cornwall. She would be fine, and then she wouldn’t be. She would be fine, and then she would have a breakdown. Blood splattered against her lips and — blood?

  She wasn’t bleeding, her ruined hands barring no scraps or marks (although plenty of Marks), but she had a sinking suspicion of who was.

  “Ouch,” Malcolm said, “I think you grabbed my hand just a little too hard.” He smiled — why the hell was he smiling, she’d gouged her nails into his skin until he bled, she’d hurt him, she’d hurt him — moving to sit beside her on the blanket once again. His purple eyes darkened from the pale petals of violets to polished chips of amethyst with worry.

  “Are you hurt?” He took her hands in his own, turning them over gently and examining them, his head bent. Shadows and sunlight caught on the strands of his white hair.

  “No. But you are.” She yanked her hands out of his grasp and ground her teeth together, telling herself that she was not going to cry in front of the children (who were not remotely paying attention).

  “It’s fine, darling, really.” A flash, a spark, and pale light wove between Malcolm’s fingers until it looked like he held a burning star in his cupped hands. The scent of his magic — burning cinnamon and crisp snow and freshly spilled ink — reached her nostrils just in time for his flesh to knit back together.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, Annabel buried her face in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut so hard her skull hurt. I hurt him, I hurt him, I hurt him, I hurt him, I—

  Annabel barely heard as Malcolm got to his feet and shouted to the children that they needed to leave. She could barely hear anything over the dim in her head, the memories threatening to drown her. The clashing of wolves’s teeth, her father carving off her fingers, her sister crumpling dead to the ground from the blow she dealt to her temple with a fire-poker. She could still taste her husband’s blood in her mouth, she could still smell her sister’s blood, she could still feel her blood flowing from wounds made by her father’s knife.

  A wave curling around her ankle, Annabel was being dragged out to sea by a hated, if familiar, riptide. She was treading water, but she was so tired of fighting to live, of fighting for the right to live. She stopped for a moment to rest her too-tight skin and weary bones, and then she was drowning.

  She was drowning.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Canon Divergent AU

  Her hair black, her skin white, her eyes blue and green and gray and all the colors of the ocean that swallowed men whole with little regard to their flimsy, mortal lives: Annabel Blackthorn was dead.

  Wearing angelic brands, the barred teeth of a wolf, laughter, complacency, and lies, drawn tight around her like a cloak, like a shield, like a funeral shroud: Annabel Blackthorn was dead.

  White hair and purple eyes and a whisper of her name as the last words on his lips, she had died months ago when they had looped a noose around Malcolm’s neck.

  She had died, but her body still wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She had died, but her body did not rot in the grave, did not decompose under the crust of the earth. She had died, but she had not swung — they would not let her. Her family had been ruined from when she had tried to flee with her beloved, a suicide would be inconsolable to their reputation.

  So they had arranged for her to be married to her cousin and shut away in one of their houses far away from Cornwall, far away from even Idris, as if she were mad, as if she was dangerous, as if she was deadly.

  They were right, of course, one of the few things they were ever right about. And they didn’t even know that they were right, they underestimated her, they always had, that would get them all killed.

  She was the mad girl — and she was a girl, barely past eighteen — who shattered a looking glass with her coiled fists and used the jagged-edged shards to cut lines and whorls into her skin. They took away everything sharp after that — or, at least, away from her, a Shadowhunter family never being able to not have weapons on hand.

  She was the dangerous girl who mixed rat poison in her sister’s wine. This sister, youthful and kind as she was, had been the one to sell out Malcolm and Annabel to their parents, had been the one to release the wolves who tracked them down, had been the one to physically restrain her when they executed Malcolm. They fired the rat catcher after that — wrongly thinking he had committed the killing as a product of jealousy from being born a Mundane.

  She was the deadly girl who, when the party was over, when the sky was as black-and-blue as the the bruises her cousin left on her thighs and hips and arms, straddled her husband, fitted her hands to the curve of his throat, his pulse beating beneath her fingertips, and squeezed, a Strength Rune etched on the deceptively delicate-looking wrist hidden underneath one of her billowing sleeves. She did not know what they would do when they found out — she did not intend to live that long.

  Thrashing like a netted fish, he clawed at her fingers, her hands, and her arms. Crimson blood splattering into his mouth and eyes, drowning and blinding him as he died. His cries for help were silenced into choking, wheezing gasps.

  He fought. Annabel fought harder.

  She lingered for a moment before slipping to the floor.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Soulmate AU

  The First Mark, as they were called, carried from birth on the skin, where a gift from the Angel. A way to lead his children along their path to their soulmate, a way to bred better Shadowhunters, birth better warriors.

  And as everyone knew, decrees from the Angel could not be challenged.

  They were Law.

As the World Burns | Unfinished AU

  “So, that’s it than? We’re all fucked?” Annabel Blackthorn stood at the counter, shoulders set, taking her anger out on the wilting tomatoes spread across a dented cutting board, her posture as perfect as a taunt piano wire. Outside the window the sky was black as pitch and completely starless, almost as it knew what was coming, almost as if it mourned for the thousands of lives that were going to be lost. Innocents, slaughtered by his hands, his magic, his inventions.

  “I don’t — I can’t . . . I’m so sorry, Annabel. So, so sorry.” Malcolm nearly collapsed to the floor but managed to catch himself on the edge of the counter at the last possible moment. His briefcase clattered to the stone tile, emptied of everything that had made it important just hours earlier.

 She softened, as she always did when he spoke, and abandoned their last dinner, pulling him into a soft embrace. Malcolm stilled under her touch, his breathing slowly evening out. He wasn’t safe here, he wasn’t safe anywhere, not anymore, not in so, so long, but he was safe with her.

  Together they collapsed to the floor.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Vampire!Annabel AU

  “No, please!” the woman said fearfully, “Don’t hurt me!” Her dark eyes desperately tried to find something in the swallowing darkness.

  “Now, now, my svelte beauty,” purred the creature as it slipped out of the shadows, “no need to make a fuss.”

  It was a man, with sharp, inhuman teeth, pupil-less eyes, and unnaturally pale skin. He wore a black cloak with a high collar and a blood-red gemstone clasp. He spoke with a foreign accent.

  The woman screamed as the monster grabbed her by the shoulders and sunk his fangs into her throat. Blood splattered against her white dress as she struggled, shrieking for mercy, then suddenly, with a burst of strength, the woman—

  “Don’t worry, kid, there’s not enough blood in your veins for any one of us to want to do that to you.”

  Kit jumped. Heart skipping a beat at the abrupt appearance of a girl — who looked around nineteen, and quite obviously a vampire, which was weird because he thought vampires weren’t allowed in the Institute thanks to the Shadowhunters’ magical racism — he spat out a string of profanities, and then said, “God, you scared me.”

  “Nothing to do with God here. Creature of the Dammed and all that.”

  He blinked, not sure what to make of her joke, and then decided to focus on the more pressing matter. “Who the hell are you? How the hell are you here?” He tightened his grip on the dagger he’d liberated from the Blackthorn’s weapons-room.

  “Now that’s more in my wheelhouse.”

  The girl neatly sat herself down on the couch beside him. Her movements weren’t particularly inhuman, but the sword that hung from her hip certainly was. The blade was sleek, long, and almost delicate-looking. Seemingly made from the same material that the Shadowhunters’ special knifes were made from — some sort of crystal-metal alloy that belonged exclusively to the Shadowhunters, because they’re just so good at sharing, Kit thought bitterly — the sword shone subtlety, while the black runes inset into the blade.

  “I’m Annabel Fade, the Head of the L.A. vampire clan.  As for why I’m here, I need to talk to Emma and Julian. Do you know where they are?”

  “They went on a patrol.” Kit answered, turning the dagger in his hand over and over as he talked, a mindless, repetitive motion that brought him comfort. “But how are you here, like, in the Institute? I thought—“

  “Auntie Annabel!” A shrike, a blur, and Annabel was engulfed in the littlest Blackthorn’s embrace.

“You came! You told me she wouldn’t, but she came.” Tavvy clung to Annabel’s black leather biker jacket like a determined octopus as she moved to give Livvy — who’d just come into the room with a ridiculously giant tub of popcorn in her hands — a one-armed hug. Standing next to Livvy, who wasn’t by any means particularly tall, Kit realized that Annabel was actually kind of short.

  Livvy accepted the hug, stuck her tongue out at Tavvy, and said, “I didn’t say she wouldn’t come, I just said it would be hard for her to. ‘cuz of the warding.”

[saibugslegacy]

Chapter 2 - A Proper Hogwarts Welcome | Percival

A Mourning Warning Masterlist A Mourning Warning Tag Read it on AO3, Read it on Wattpad

Percival felt a bit awkward as he, Idris, and Professor Fig half walked and half ran towards the Great Hall. Thankfully they didn't pass anyone. Everyone else was already in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. So much for the first impression Idris had been so worried about. They were going to burst into the Great Hall late, in the middle of the sorting, Percival covered in his blood. Fig opened the door just enough to peek inside.

"Oh good, we haven't missed the Sorting Ceremony," Fig sighed in relief as he pulled back. He turned to them only to stop and give them a considering look. "I'm not an expert, but this seems more appropriate."

Fig gave his wand a wave and before their eyes their clothes melted away, covered by white button downs, gray vests, black ties, and black hooded robes with a small Hogwarts logo patch on their chest.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Percival sighed and reached to adjust his sleeves only to see Idris glaring at him. “What?”

“I put a lot of time into that coat,” Idris huffed. “And my outfit.”

“I’ll miss the coat, Dris,” Percy said. “I’m just glad to not meet my classmates and teachers covered in my own blood. Plus you said you couldn’t fix the coat anyway.”

“I said I couldn’t get the blood out of it, and I might have been able to with a spell. Plus my outfit was fine.”

“I assure you, none of your clothes are gone,” Fig said. “I’ve simply sent them to where the rest of the students’ things are waiting to be sent to their dorms. Now, I need to study this locket as quick as I can but first I must contact the Ministry, they need to know about George and must be informed about Ragnarok. For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between-”

“Oh shit,” Idris realized. 

“What now?” Percival groaned.

“All our stuff,” Idris looked close to hyperventilating again. “It was on the back of the carriage. We literally brought everything we had and, and everything Mom and Dad left us, all the stuff Annabelle made that we kept, my sketchbook-”

“Mom and Dad’s wedding rings,” Percival could feel the tears gathering in his own eyes. With everything that had happened to them just to get to Hogwarts, this was just too much. He wasn’t much up to this Sorting Ceremony anymore.

“I’m truly sorry,” Fig sighed. “I’ll talk to the faculty, see if we can arrange sending a few house elves to search for any of your things that may have survived.”

“Thanks Professor,” Percival muttered, to be polite more than anything else. Those rings were the only things recovered from his parents’ body. The dresses Idris spent hours designing with and for Annabelle. All their pictures of them. Fig had gotten them both made Wards of the Ministry as they didn’t have guardians anymore, meaning they couldn’t go back to Rosewood. They’d had to bring everything. Now it was probably all gone. 

Fig peaked through the door again and Percival immediately pulled Idris into a hug. As he’d expected, Idris quickly wrapped their arms around Percival in return. Every time he tried to say something, anything, the words couldn’t through the tears clogging his throat. But what could he even say? That it would be okay? How could anything be okay? His heart had already been ripped out of his chest in April, and now it was like whatever piece he’d shared with Idris was gone too. 

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Fig grumbled. He quickly hurried back over to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt children, but you must prepare yourselves to meet the Headmaster.”

A man stepped through the ajar door, dressed in a handsome green waistcoat with a gold chain linked to his black satin vest. He had a black beard and mustache, accenting his neatly styled black hair. Percival could feel his skin crawling already, he didn’t even need Idris’ muttered translation that Fig did not like the Headmaster. The Headmaster only gave them a single look —a look that made Percival even more grateful he wasn’t covered in blood—before glaring at Fig. Actually it wasn’t even a glare, more of a haughty sneer.

“Fig!” Black chided. “Nice of you to join us. The Sorting Ceremony is over!”

“There were…complications,” Fig tried to explain.

“Complications?!”

“It seems the goblin problem-”

“Enough!” Black scoffed. “Goblins. I’ve no time for rumors, Fig, and I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left.”

Black sighed and turned to the twins. Percival had to fight the urge to take a step back, maybe hide behind Idris to escape the Headmaster’s gaze.

“If you’re lucky we might be able to get you Sorted this evening,” Black huffed. 

Black walked off without a word and Idris hurried after him, making Percival realize they were supposed to follow, despite Black not saying anything to indicate so. 

Percival was lucky he didn’t run into a table. The moment he stepped into the Great Hall it wasn’t the tables covered in more food than should be possible that he noticed, the risen stage where the faculty and a three legged stool were waiting, the giant fireplaces, or the enchanting floating candles. It was the ceiling. Spread out above them was a perfect recreation of the very stars in their sky, from the stars to the color of the sky to the clouds. It wasn’t a skylight, it was as if they’d simply removed a piece and placed it above the room.

The twins followed the Headmaster toward the stage, where a red-haired woman with spectacles was holding a hat so ancient Percival was waiting for it to disintegrate in her fingers. Sorting, right. Percival braced himself, knowing he’d be called first if this was done alphabetically. “Percival” didn’t come before “Idris” but the name Percy had been born with did and that always seemed to be the one used. 

“Professor Weasley, two more to be Sorted,” Black commanded. 

“Welcome!” Professor Weasley greeted them. She already seemed much more cheery than the Headmaster. “You’re just in time. The Valley twins I presume?”

“Yes ma’am,” The twins replied in unison.

“Wonderful,” Weasley gave them a reassuring smile as she checked a list on the table next to her. “Idris, you are first. Have a seat.”

A smile flitted onto Percival’s face for a split second to match the one Idris flashed him before they ascended the stage and sat on the stool. Weasley placed the hat on Idris’ head and simply stood there and waited. Idris kept making faces like they were talking to the hat, but no word left either of their mouths. Minute after minute passed as more and more mutterings began to fill the Great Hall. Even the teachers at the faculty table behind Idris were glancing at each other in confusion. Percival couldn’t make out what anyone was saying but he swore he heard someone mention the words “hat stall”. It took six whole minutes before the hat spoke.

“Better be….GRYFFINDOR!”

The table directly to Percival’s right covered in children in red uniforms roared their approval. They began cheering like crazy and even though Percival wanted to chop his ears off he had to laugh a little as he also applauded his sibling. Oh yeah, Idris was definitely going to fit in there. Weasley waved her wand the same as Professor Fig had out in the entrance hall and Idris’ uniform transferred from a plain one to a red one, getting yet another cheer from the Gryffindor table. Idris was laughing as they gave Percival a rushed hug before finding somewhere to sit at their new table.

“Percival, your turn,” Professor Weasley said.

Percival sat down on the three headed stool and tried to sit as still as possible to put the hat on his head.

Ah, another older one. 

Percival nearly jumped out of his skin. Well that explained Idris’ conversation. He’d known the hat talked but hadn’t realized it was inside his head.

Of course I’m in your head. This is where the things that matter are. I see you’ve studied profusely with your mentor, good, good. But you’ve come with preferences and preconceptions and theories. Expectations.

I’m looking forward to my classes, Percival replied. I’ve hardly learned anything about magic compared to what I’ve seen just today. I want to know everything there is to know.

Curious…yes, I see. You love an unanswered question but hate not knowing. I know exactly what to do with you. 

“RAVENCLAW!”

Percival felt a rush of relief go through him as the other center table started clapping and cheering for him. He was sure the other houses had their merits, but none of them had ever felt quite right to him. Somehow he’d always had a feeling he’d belonged in Ravenclaw, from the day Fig told them about the Houses.

Percival got off the stool and Weasley waved her wand again, turning gray to a deep sapphire blue that was immediately calming to his mind. The grin on his face probably made him look like an idiot but he didn’t care. Everything was finally hitting him. He’d been excited for Hogwarts before but this was different. It wasn’t just something coming up on the horizon. He was here. He was a student. Better, he was a Ravenclaw.

As Percival found a seat at the end of the table, the girl next to him immediately leaned over to talk to him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” The girl said. “I’m Samantha Dale, I’m a fifth year too. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Percival replied.

The conversation was cut short by Professor Black stepping up to the front of the stage.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Black said. “Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch in last spring’s final, this year’s Quidditch season has been canceled.”

Immediately Black was bombarded by boos and protests. Percival himself couldn’t care less. Fig had told them about Quidditch and Percival had no interest in it. Less, actually. But he knew Idris had been looking forward to at least watching a game, maybe even trying out for their house team, so he felt a little bad for them he supposed. 

“Enough!” Black commanded. “It’s not as though I’ve banned flying altogether. But don’t tempt me. You are here to focus on your academic futures. I’m sure you all have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow.”

He made a motion with his hands but clearly no one understood what on Earth he was supposed to be saying because the whole hall just stared at him waiting for him to clarify. Eventually he repeated himself much more forcefully and all but shooed them away, leading the students to rush from the hall.

“You two!” Black pointed to Percival and then Idris. He gestured for them to approach and they did so hesitantly. “Professor Weasley, would you be so kind as to show our new students to their common rooms.”

“I shall see to it, sir,” Weasley agreed.

She waited for Black to walk away before she started talking to the twins with a warm smile.

“You two made quite the entrance,” Weasley chuckled. “I’m Professor Weasley. Pleased to meet you.”

“Great to meet you too, professor,” Idris replied and shook her hand, Percival following their example. 

“As Deputy Headmistress it is my distinct honor to show you to your common rooms,” Professor Weasley told them. “The Ravenclaw common room is right this way.”

Percival and Idris followed Professor Weasley as she led them through corridors and up staircases. Even with the sight of the castle from where they'd landed after Gringotts, Percival still couldn't believe how expansive Hogwarts was. Every time he thought there would be a dead end or exit of some kind there was another hall or another staircase. The star cases especially seemed endless. 

Finally, after climbing a tower, they went up a much shorter flight of stairs that led to a door blocked but a fixture of a large bronze eagle. It seemed to double as a door knocker but it was much too large to be practical in that regard. Before they could fully approach however, Weasley stopped and turned to talk to them.

"It's quite uncommon for a student to begin as a fifth year," Weasley told them. Percival could almost physically feel Idris restraining themself from commenting on how often they've heard so. "Might be a bit of a challenge, but one I'm sure you're up for."

"We are, Professor," Percival said. 

"Yeah, we aren't going to let a little thing like a challenge stop us," Idris agreed. "We're ready for this. We've been ready for this for months."

"I appreciate your confidence," Weasley chuckled. "Now, Idris, if you will retreat down the stairs for a moment, I'm afraid entry into the common rooms is a closely kept secret."

Idris nodded and nudged Percival with their shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," Idris promised. "Don't get eaten by a dragon."

Percival barked out a laugh from surprise, immediately covering his mouth until he collected himself. "I'll try my best."

Idris pulled them into one last hug before heading on down the stairs. Being separated from Idris and knowing it would be further was a strange feeling. It was just because of everything they'd been through together just that day. Not to mention they had been attached at the hip since April. Now they were wandering away and Percival was somehow both relieved and anxious as Idris disappeared.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room," Weasley explained, pulling Percival from his thoughts. "You must solve a riddle to enter."

"A riddle?" Percival bit back a smile. 

"I'm glad it excites you," Weasley said "This sort of thing always confuses me."

Percival stepped up to the door and locked up at the knocker. He expected the beak to open like the sorting hat with its almost-mouth. Instead the voice of the eagle simply rang out into the stairwell.

Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?

Now how was he supposed to know that? He doubted the eagle would engage in a round of context questions. How long would a poltergeist have lived? That was not something he studied with Fig much.

Wait.

"Neither," Percival realized. "Neither a ghost nor poltergeist has ever lived. They aren't truly people anymore. A nonbeing can never have been."

The eagle lowered its head and folded its wings, letting the door swing inwards. Percival just caught a glimpse of white stone floors, vaulted blue ceilings, and a large stone statue of another eagle before Professor Weasley spoke again.

"Well done," Professor Weasley said. "Now, go on in and get some sleep.  Professor Fig has already made us aware of your situation, so there will be nightclothes and a spare uniform sitting on your bed."

"Thank you Professor," Percival smiled at her.

He entered the common room, the door closing on its own behind him. The stairs split in front of him, following the curve of the tower. When he got to the top he had to pause in his tracks for a moment. It was perfect. He could feel that with just a glance but he decided to wait to really look around until the morning. 

Now that he wasn't running on the adrenaline of a dragon attack, goblin attack, and the excitement from the Sorting, he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy. He was glad he wasn't forced to meet a bunch of people while exhausted, but he was now running into the problem that he had no idea where the dorms were.

"You look lost there, stranger," A thankfully familiar voice approached and Percy forced his eyes open. 

"Samantha," Percival sighed in relief. "I'm glad to see a familiar face, even if we only just met."

"I was on my way to my dorm but I noticed you hadn't arrived yet," Samantha told him. "I remember how strange and disorienting it was my first year, I can't even imagine how strange it must be to start as a fifth-year. So I decided to wait for a bit to see if you made it alright. I'm happy you did."

"I am as well," Percival smiled a little, too tired for anything more, but he could already feel a small flower of connection blooming. "Thank you for that, I certainly appreciate the gesture. I don't suppose you could also show me the dorms?"

"I'd love to," Samantha gave him a warm smile and gestured for him to follow her.

She led him to the seam separating too large circular rooms. On either side of them was a staircase leading up and down, the entrance to each side flanked by two suits of bronze or silver armor. The silver was on Percival's left while the bronze were on his right. 

"The girls and boys have separate dorms," Samantha explained. "The armor is there so they can't enter the other dorms. Your dorm, the boys, will be past the silver armor. Two flights down should be the fifth year dorms."

Wonderful, dorms separated by magic. He hadn't even thought of that, but the gendered dorms of course made sense. He should have asked Fig or even Weasley about it but it was too late now. He went to step toward the bronze armor only to pause. They'd used his name in the Sorting Ceremony, the one he picked, not the one he was born with. Maybe...

He took a deep breath and stepped toward the silver armor instead. He prepared himself for it to block him but the armor didn't even twitch. He let out a breathy, relieved laugh and glanced at Samantha over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Samantha," Percival said. "Again."

"You're welcome," Samantha replied. "Again."

When Percival managed to find his dorm there was only one other boy already in there, a boy who was already unpacking his things. He seemed like he was Percival's height, with neat black hair and skin that matched the wooden accents of the common room. When he finally looked up from his trunk and spotted Percival his eyes were a rich dark brown that reminded Percy of Idris' eyes. 

The dorms themselves were everything Percival ever wanted from a dorm, and certainly much nicer than Rosewood's. The twins' room at Rosewood had two beds, one nightstand, two dressers, and that was it. But the Ravenclaw dorms had the same vaulted ceilings as the common room, all stained glass windows, wooden floors with matching accents along the walls. There were large wardrobes to Percy's left, allowing plenty of spade for storage so the bed areas wouldn't get crowded. There were of course four writing desks, this was Ravenclaw after all. The beds were bunk beds but they were built to be like their own tiny rooms, with wooden frames and curtains that could be drawn for privacy.

"Why, hello!" The boy said. "Oh, you're the new fifth year aren't you? I'm Amit. Pleasure to have you in Ravenclaw."

"Percival. I'm one of the new fifth years, yes," Percival nodded. "My twin sibling is in Gryffindor."

He glanced around and saw the bed across from Amit's didn't have any trunks ready to be unpacked, just a pair of nightclothes and an extra uniform folded neatly on the bed, just as Professor Weasley promised. He pushed the thoughts of his lost luggage aside before they could overtake him.

"Ah, I remember now," Amit nodded.

He opened a trunk which seemed to have been entirely dedicated to a telescope which he set about reconstructing. Percival found himself staring. He'd always wanted a telescope, ever since he was a toddler and his mother taught him his first constellation. But it had always slipped his grasp. Amit finished setting up his telescope but caught Percival staring. 

"Sorry," Percival shook his head like he was trying to escape a telescope-induced trance. "I just have always wanted a telescope like that."

"Would you like to take a look?" Amit offered. "You'd be surprised how much of the sky you can see from the tower at night."

The correct answer was 'absolutely fuck yes' but Percival was able to restrain himself. He let Amit finish adjusting the telescope before he went over and peaked through the lens. Immediately it was like he forgot how to breathe. 

"It's beautiful," Percival whispered. He pulled back from the telescope already grinning at Amit. "No wonder you'd set up a telescope in the dorm."

"There's another in the common room and of course plenty in the Astronomy Tower!"

"If you know the location of every telescope in this school I take it you like Astronomy?"

"Oh yes," Amit nodded enthusiastically. "So much to be learned from the stars. Also, there's something about the open air and night sky above the tower. It's invigorating."

"Finally, someone with sense," Percival sighed. "My sibling is clever in their own right, but they could never understand the appeal of the stars. I've read every book on them I could get my hands on, but honestly it wasn't many."

"You will adore Astronomy," Amit promised. "Professor Shah is incredibly knowledgeable. And don't worry, it's a required class for all fifth-years so it will definitely be on your schedule. You'll be enthralled with the Astronomy Tower. You should try to find a good quality telescope, they can show you things you never dreamed of."

"I think you and I will end up friends," Percival grinned. "It was nice to meet you, Amit."

"You as well!"

Percival changed as quickly as he could, unlacing the corset and feeling his spine immediately relax. It was a price but a very small one in his opinion. He stuffed it under his bed once he was done changing just in case and climbed into bed, his eyes falling closed before he even hit the pillow. 

He didn't get to meet his other roommates yet as by the time he woke up the dorm was empty already. Percival donned his spare uniform and hurried back up to the common room. He wasn't really sure what to do next. He didn't have a schedule yet, Fig had told them days ago there would be someone to explain their schedule and classes something about arrangements for a system to catch them up to their peers. So he supposed he just had to wait? He wasn't supposed to meet them somewhere was he? Did he just stand there? Did he mingle? He didn't see Amit anywhere, but Samantha was off to the side moving around a plant pot.

"Good morning," Samantha greeted him, then gestured to the plant. "I want him to be in the perfect place. A place he'll be happy with. But I can't seem to find it. Great golden Gobstones, I want him to thrive here."

"Golden Gobstones?" Percival cocked his head as he considered the phrase.

"My own little expression," Samantha giggled. "I brought this dittany seedling from home and I so want him to feel cosy. Dittany is amazing, isn't it? So much healing power in such a little plant."

Percival tried to rack his brain for anything he could remember about dittany. He didn't exactly have the best track record with Herbology so far.

"Dittany..." Percival hummed. "That's used in Wiggenweld potions, isn't it?"

"It is!" Samantha confirmed. "Looks like someone's been studying up on their Potion-making." 

"Quite a bit, yes," Percival said. "We studied some with Professor Fig before the term started to help us catch up. I did quite well with Potions but not so much with Herbology."

"I've got a bit of a thing for plante, as you can see," Samantha chuckled. "What was it like getting to learn directly from Fig? He's always been an enigma to me. Teaches about theory yet seems to know a lot about practical magic."

"He knows a little about a lot of things," Percival answered. "He's quite knowledgeable which was very helpful."

"I hope he taught you enough," Samantha said. "You've lots to catch up on I'm sure."

"I'm curious, is it common practice for students to grow their own ingredients?" Percival wondered. If so, he was already grieving his potions grade.

"Oh yes!" Samantha nodded. "In fact, our herbology teacher, Professor Garlick, encourages it. And I don't think Professor Sharp—our potions master—cares where you get your ingredients as long as your brews are all perfect."

"Is the new fifth year in here?" A voice echoed through the common room. "Percival Valley? Professor Weasley is waiting for you outside the common room."

"I'd better hurry," Percival said. "It was nice talking to you, Samantha. Good luck with your dittany."

"You too!" Samantha replied. "And good luck to you too on your first day!"

Percival went down the stairs he'd entered through - thankfully he remembered which ones they were - and the door swung out for him, revealing Professor Weasley with her hands clasped in front of her and an impatient Idris pacing the balcony.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long Professor," Percival apologized and prepared himself for the crushing hug Idris pulled him into.

"The Gryffindor common room is so cool!" Idris told him. "It's got this nice warm tone so it's nice and cozy and it feels really lived in and comfortable with all the warm woods and this huge fireplace."

"The Ravenclaw dorm is gorgeous too," Percival told him, already feeling his lips twitching to smile as Idris shook their hands excitedly. It was so nice to see them so excited. "I think we're keeping Professor Weasley waiting though."

"Right, sorry Professor!" Idris winced and quickly stepped away from Percival, clasping their hands behind their back.

"It's alright," Professor Weasley chuckled. "It's always gratifying to hear students' excitement over their common rooms, especially Gryffindors. Now, I trust you two are ready for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"I've been ready for the last four years," Idris answered.

"I've been dreaming of this day for months," Percival agreed. "I almost can't believe we're here." 

"Well you are here," Professor Weasley smiled. "Make the most of it. You only have one first day at Hogwarts. Now, in light of your unique situation, joining us as a 5th year, you'll need to catch up with your classmates, and not fall behind. Especially as you'll be expected to complete your O.W.L.s at the end of the year."

"Owls?" Idris' eyebrows scrunched up a bit in confusion.

"Yes, your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams," Professor Weasley explained. "They will determine what type of career you can have when you leave here. After much discussion with the Headmaster and the Department of Magical Education at the ministry, we;ve devised a few ways to ensure your success."

"The first of these is your classes," Weasley continued. "To begin you will only be attending Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. Other classes such as Beasts, Astronomy, and the electives you selected with Professor Fig will be added to your schedule as you progress so as to not overwhelm you too early in the term. The second is this."

Professor Weasley held out her hands and two large leather bound books fell into them. She handed one to each of them. Percival tried to open his but it burst open all on its own, Idris' just behind it. Pages flew from the books shrouded in golden light. They swirled through the air, weaving through each other and the pages from Percival's book, until they all filed back into the book and into Percy's hands again.

"What is it?" Percival wondered.

"It is a wizard's field guide," Weasley answered. "It will help you to keep track of what you're learning so that you master all that's expected of a fifth year. You would be wise to take advantage of this exceptionally valuable resource."

Professor Weasley spent a few minutes explaining the Field Guide to them. Pages were in the book and scattered around the world for them to learn Wizarding lore, there were challenges listed in the book to help track their milestones, a map, and a place where they could take notes of their own. She also took the time to show them the floo flame system, leading to them descending the staircase in the Central Hall, an absolute monolith of a room with a fountain of stone mermaids, a chiseled dragon mural, an overhang leading to the library, and what looked like the entrance to a greenhouse.

"You can get almost anywhere in the castle quickly from Central Hall," Weasley told them. "Always something happening here. It's the heart of the hive. Our 'Kings Cross Station,' so to speak."

Professor Weasley stopped at the bottom of the stairs, giving them a moment to gaze around the wall. Idris was staring right at the dragon effigy with rapt attention. They seemed entranced by it but was pulled back when Weasley spoke again.

"What should be all for now," Weasley said. "You'll be expected to attend both Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes today."

Professor Weasley made a motion like plucking something out of the air, conjuring two pieces of paper. She waved her wand and handed them to the twins.

"These are your schedules for now," Weasley explained. "The other classes will appear as the Headmaster, Professor Fig, and I approve your progress."

While Percival was a little disappointed he wouldn't get to attend Astronomy yet, and he imagined Idris was disappointed they would be missing Beasts class, but he also understood the reasoning behind it and was grateful for it.

"I'd also like to speak with you about your belongings," Weasley said. That got their attention. "Deek!"

A creature Percival only recognized as a house-elf from pictures appeared next to Professor Weasley.

"Children, this is Deek, a house elf here at Hogwarts," Weasley introduced the elf. "Deek, these are the students you were told about. Deek and a few other house-elves were asked to search for and salvage as many of your things as you can."

"Deek and his friends are still searching," Deek said shyly. "It is taking longer than Deek expected, but all your things are being delivered to your rooms as they are found. But Deek found this and thought Idris would like to have it back. Deek tried to repair it as best as Deek could."

"I'm Idris, what is it?" Idris asked, words coming out in a breathless rush.

Deek made the same motion Professor Weasley had to summon their field guides, but what fell into his hand was a different leatherbound book. This was much smaller and simple, held closed with a brass latch and with a rose carved into the leather of the front cover. It was certainly more worn and dirty than Percival remembered, but there was no doubt what it was.

"My sketchbook!" Idris gasped and quickly took the book. They started flipping through it faster than Percival would have been able to, eyes darting around and taking in information that mystified Percival but apparently brought Idris so much relief there were tears in their eyes. "You said you fixed it, Deek?"

"Deek hopes the drawings are alright," Deek wrung his hands a little but Idris just laughed.

"They're amazing," Idris assured him. "Thank you so much, Deek."

"Some things did not survive," Professor Weasley informed them. "Namely many of your school supplies. As such, I'd like to be sure you get to Hogsmeade as soon as possible to replace them."

"Hogsmeade?" Percival asked.

"Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain, and is home to an array of shops and pubs," Professor Weasley said. "You should be able to find all of the supplies you need, along with anything else you may want, even wands of your own."

"Thank you for explaining all this, Professor Weasley," Percival replied.

"A lot to absorb on your first day, I know," Weasley said. "And you have much to learn. Happily, your professors have agreed to create additional assignments for you outside of class. You’ll be up to speed in no time. Judging by your adept use of revelio earlier, I'd say Professor Fig succeeded in at least showing you the basics.”

“Very much so,” Percival confirmed. “We didn’t quite have time to go over all the spells he wanted to teach us, but we have plenty to build up with, both in spellcasting and in subjects like Potions and Herbology.”

“Wonderful,” Weasley nodded. “While we’re on the subject, Professor Fig has been terribly vague about the events preceding your arrival, specifically about what happened after that awful dragon attack. My suspicion is that there’s more to the story than a fruitless search for belonging and an extended trip up to the castle.”

Percival frowned a little. He vaguely remembered Fig asking them to keep the story to themselves but he would think that meant their fellow students, and perhaps Professors like the Headmaster. Professor Weasley was very unlike Black. Besides, she was a teacher, and had on repeated occasions shown concern and care for their well being in the last twelve hours alone. Percival opened his mouth to speak but Idris did so first.

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Idris said. “I’m sorry Professor, but that’s really all there is to it.”

Percival seriously considered interrupting them but as much as he disagreed with them, he didn’t want to get them in trouble for lying before they even got to their first class. So, he remained silent but internally made a note to speak with Fig about this at length after classes.

“Hmm, almost precisely what Professor Fig said,” Weasley hummed. 

As if he’d been summoned, the man himself approached from Percival’s left.

“Speak of the devil,” Weasley said. “Professor Fig. Your ears must have been burning.”

“Oh?” Fig replied.

“Yes. You seem to have provided our new fifth-years with a solid foundation in the basics of spell-casting.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit there, Professor. They’ve a rare aptitude for magic it seems.”

“Hmm,” Professor Weasley hummed again, which Percival was pretty sure meant she did not believe them at all. “Well, I’m just glad you all arrived in one piece. Perfectly good boats and carriages to Hogwarts and you chose to fly in the path of a dragon.”

“I wouldn’t say I chose the dragon’s path professor,” Fig pointed out. “Rather, unfortunately, it would seem that it chose us.”

“Very well,” Weasley sighed. “Enough chit-chat. I need to get to class myself. Might I rely on you, Professor Fig, to explain the details of the Field Guide’s compass?”

“Of course.”

Professor Weasley turned back to the twins.

“Good luck today,” Professor Weasley told them. “And remember to use your Field Guide. It will be invaluable to you. And, invaluable to me as I’ll be using it to keep up to date on your progress. Come and find me in my classroom after you’ve attended both your classes today, and I’ll explain more about those assignments I mentioned. And we’ll see if we can’t get you to Hogsmeade for those supplies.”

As Weasley walked away Fig stared after her. The moment she turned a corner and was out of sight, Fig stepped close enough to the twins he could drop his voice to a whisper.

“Did I hear you masterfully evade Professor Weasley’s interrogation regarding our late arrival?” Fig questioned.

“Yes you did, Professor,” Idris answered with a grin, practically glowing with pride.

“Though I’m not sure we should have,” Percival spoke up. “I don’t like the idea of keeping secrets like this, and certainly not lying about them. Perhaps we should tell someone, Professor Weasley especially. I’m fairly certain she already suspects we aren’t being entirely forthcoming. She may be able to help us. She seems to be quite the capable witch.”

“She is a brilliant and astute witch,” Fig agreed. “But it was right to keep the details to yourselves for now. We don’t know where this path we’ve embarked on will lead. It may require a bit more…flexibility with your time than she would approve of. And she may feel obliged to share details with the headmaster that would be better left between us.”

Percival had to admit hiding it from Professor Black seemed a good idea. The Headmaster had seemed flippant at best about his students and neglectful at most. But what he kept coming back to was the fact they shouldn’t be on this path at all. If Fig wanted to continue to investigate, that was his right. Percival would even be willing to help in certain situations, but this was not his or Idris’ responsibility. They’d already countered dragons, Ranrok, deadly suits of armor, and the colossus that fought Ranrok and nearly killed the three of them too. No children should be involved with that.

“Professor, I don’t-”

“Understood, Professor,” Idris interrupted him again. Percival made another note to argue with Idris later as well. 

“Good,” Professor Fig said. “Now. As capable as the two of you are, I believe the ability you possess obliges you to be well-trained. Happily, you have the benefit of an exceptionally skilled team of witches and wizards to guide you.”

Percival barely caught sight of Idr’s eyebrows scrunching up a little but they didn’t say anything as Fig continued on to explain the Charmed Compass in the Field Guide, which would certainly come in handy. A map of the castle was handy but Percival could hardly decipher the thing. There were too many random corridors and staircases and oddly placed doors to easily track your path. 

“Now, sounds like you’ve quite a day ahead what with classes and a trip to Hogsmeade,” Professor Fig commented. “Including your wands, which I know you are particularly excited for. You’ll enjoy Mr. Ollivander. He’s an exceptional craftsman and a good friend. For now, focus on your glasses. I shall reach out when I have more information about our mysterious locket.”

“See you soon Professor,” Idris waved to Fig as he stepped away. 

Idris pulled out their field guide and copied the wand motion Fig had shown them. A golden page burst out of the book and flew out up the stairs, thankfully leaving a golden trail of light behind for them to follow.

“Guess Charms is that way,” Idris snickered.

Percivla was silent as they followed the compass the page left behind, too busy engaging in a debate with himself to try and start any sort of conversation. Idris obviously had no qualms about this Ancient Magic path, while Percival had more than a few reservations. But what really grinded his gears was the way Idris had kept talking over him during the conversation with Fig. It was a habit Idris had and normally Percival could tolerate it, but that didn't feel like habit. It seemed more purposeful, to keep Percy from saying anything against what Fig and Idris thought best. 

“Hey Perce?” Idris said. Apparently they were having a conversation after all. Percival hummed in acknowledgment. “Am I a witch or a wizard?”

“What?”

“Sometimes I’m more of a man or a woman, but not all the time,” Idris reminded him. “Most of the time I’m not really either. I guess sometimes I’m both, but that’s not helpful here. So would I be a witch or a wizard?”

“Huh,” Percival tilted his head as he considered it. The debate could wait, this was something important to Idris. Besides, it was an interesting question. “I suppose neither.”

“What am I then?”

“You could make up your own word,” Percival suggested. “Or choose a different one.”

“Have you seen any in those old legends you read?” Idris wondered.

“Plenty,” Percival answered. “Sorcerer could be neutral, as could warlock, mage, sometimes I’ve seen the word shaman-”

“I like mage,” Idris grinned, bouncing on their toes a little now as they walked. “Mage feels good.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mage,” Percival laughed and Idris made a little noise of excitement as they approached the end of the compass’ trail, which presumably meant they’d found their charms class.

The Charms classroom was like no classroom Percival had ever seen. It reminded him of an amphitheater, now that he thought about it. A lower floor through the center of arcing tiers, each with a long table with three chairs. At the opposite end was a platform like a viewing box with what Percival assumed was the Professor’s desk. Already their classmates were waving to each other and finding seats, leaving Percival and Idris to stand there aimlessly.

“Where do you want to sit?” Percival asked.

“No idea,” Idris sighed.

“Here!” A girl’s voice came from their right. On the top tier was a girl in a Gryffindor uniform and Idris immediately smiled. “There are open seats here.”

“Up there, come on,” Idris decided. They grabbed Percival’s hand and dragged him up, like he wasn’t perfectly capable of following on his own. They steered Percival to the seat on the end and they sat in the middle, between Percival and the girl.

“Percy, this is Natsai, or Natty,” Idris explained. “We met in our common room this morning and she’s freaking awesome. Natty, this is my brother I told you about, Percival.”

“I remember!” Natty replied. “They told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you Percival. Have you met Professor Ronen yet-”

She was interrupted by a man clearing his throat on the other side of the classroom. At the top of a curved staircase their professor appeared, dressed in purple and green and looking far too cheerful for such an early morning. 

“Shall we begin?” Professor Ronen exclaimed. “Welcome to year five of Charms Now, this will be a crucial year in your education on the art of Charmwork, but I am confident that we will take hold with the passion and rigor requisite of such a challenge.”

“He talks like you,” Idris snickered into Percival’s ear and Percy elbowed them.

“Right, now everyone, please open your textbooks to page five one seven,” Ronen ordered.

“Do you think he’ll take ‘a dragon ate my homework’ as an excuse,” Idris winced.

“It’s just the one class, we’re getting new books this afternoon,” Percival reminded them. “But…yeah, this could get annoying fast if we need books in Defense Against the Dark Arts too.”

“We can share mine,” Natty offered and slid her textbook over to Idris since they were in the middle.

“Told you she was awesome,” Idris commented as they opened the textbook.

“Buuut, before we begin,” Ronen cut them off before they could find the page. “Can anyone tell me the difference between the incantations of the Colour Change and Growth Charm?”

Percival immediately threw his hand in the hair, having studied this exact thing so he didn’t get the extremely similar incantations confused. Apparently no one else had done the same as no one else raised their hands.

“Only one?” Ronen clicked his tongue disappointedly. “Mr. Valley I believe?”

“Yes sir,” Percival nodded. “The growth charm begins with cres, rather than colo, but both incantations end the same.”

“Well done Mr. Valley, ten points to Ravenclaw!” Ronen clapped his hands. “As for the rest of you, the summer months must have really taken a toll on you. By the looks of it, you all spent your holidays practicing obliviate on each other!”

Professor Ronen laughed to himself as he considered his students.

“Do you even remember how to perform a basic summoning charm?” Ronen wondered.

It wasn’t that Percival had forgotten , rather that he’d never learned how. The summoning charm had been on the list of spells Fig had not gotten around to teaching them, leaving Percival to look just as oblivious as the students who should have learned it in fourth year. “Hm. Well, it seems we are in dire need of review.”

Professor Ronen directed them all to stand on opposite sides of the classroom, Percival across from Natty and Idris across from a tall Gryffindor boy with short ginger. Ronen made sure each pair had a book and instructed them to take turns summoning them from each others’ hands. Thankfully he took the time to quickly teach the twins the wand movement and incantation for the spell so they could participate in the exercise. 

Idris’ first attempt at the charm only gave the book in their partner’s hand a small yank, but when Percival tried the charm Natty’s textbook flew from her grip and into Percival’s hand so fast it almost hit him in the face.

“That is certainly not bad,” Natty chuckled. 

“You are a swift learner!” Ronen praised him. “I see a lot of potential. But remember, potential is nothing without practice! Keep at it, you might just rival Miss Onai here!”

A few minutes passed of the students summoning the books back and forth. It looked like Idris and their partner made a sort of game out of it, even though they couldn’t speak to each other from opposite sides of the classroom. Idris managed to get the spell down too which Percival was proud of them for.

“Well!” Professor Ronen grabbed their attention again. “As you all seem to have the basics down, and it is an exceptionally lovely day, I was thinking we might have ourselves a little excursion outside for a spot of fresh air. After me!”

Percival and Idris shared a glance of confusion before following their professor down through the castle and onto the lawn. 

“I’ve always found that fun goes hand-in-hand with mastery, as I’m sure the quidditch players amongst us would agree,” Professor Ronen chuckled. “So, what better than a bit of sport to put our prowess with the Summoning Charm to the test?”

Professor Ronen waved his wand through the air and the class watched as colorful planks of wood constructed themselves into two platforms, one with numbers at each color and the other with stairs. Large blue spheres like marbles dropped onto the far platform as Ronen waved Percival up the stairs.

“So, why don’t we have one of our new students start us off?”

Ronen quickly explained the game to him, which was called Summoner’s Court. Apparently the goal was to use the summoning charm on the balls and pull them towards you, but time the release of your charm so they landed as close to the edge as possible without falling off. Charms and timing. Percival could definitely handle this. And sure enough, he came out of it with a near perfect score, having ended with only one sphere outside the final zone.

“Excellently done!” Ronen cheered. Percival expected him to switch Percival out for another student, but instead three more balls dropped onto the court, this time red.

This time Percival had to play against Natty. He would normally deny it but Natsai won very easily. He hadn’t even thought of the fact they could knock each other’s marbles off the court, docking their opponents’ points significantly. 

So next round, even with the moving boxes Ronen decided to add, Percival was ready. Not only did Percival win this time, but he won with a perfect score and beat Natty by fifty points.

“Very good both you, well done,” Ronen complimented them both as they descended from the platform.

He matched up a few more students but soon they were headed back inside to the Charms classroom to retrieve their things as Ronen dismissed class.

“Good game back there Percival,” Natty chuckled. “I must admit, I think I underestimated you. Took weeks for me to get proficient in accio. Took weeks for me to get anything right when I transferred here. It gets easier, I promise.”

“I’m glad someone understands,” Percival said. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.” 

“To put it lightly!” Natty agreed.

“At least we’re holding our own so far,” Idris pointed out. “Especially Percival over here. Already mastering a charm we didn’t even get to glance at.”

“Charms are easy,” Percival shrugged.

“Maybe for you .”

“You’re good at other things,” Percival argued.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Idris grinned. “Natty, did you say you transferred to Hogwarts too?”

“Yes, I transferred here from Uagadou just before my fourth year,” Natty answered. “My mother received an offer to teach divination here. Before I knew it we had left Uganda and were halfway around the world at a new school in a new country.”

“Is Uagadou another wizarding school?” Percival asked.

“Yes, Uagadou School of Magic is the largest Wizarding school in the world,” Natty giggled. “But it never felt intimidating. It only felt like home.”

“You know, we could have ended up at Uagadou,” Idris realized. “Remember, we almost ended up staying in Gauteng because that’s where mom’s family was from and they couldn’t find Dad’s, which suddenly makes a lot of sense. If we’d stayed there we probably would have ended up at Uagadou instead of Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Percival hummed. “But you’re right. Wow. That’s strange to think about. Now I’m even more curious.”

“I’d be happy to talk about Uagadou,” Natty said. 

“This might seem an odd question, but is magic the same there as it is here?” Percival wondered. 

“Mostly yes,” Natty hummed. “But I did have to learn how to use a wand when I arrived here. Hardly anyone at Uagadou uses one.”

“Oh yeah, Professor Fig mentioned wandless magic,” Idris remembered. “It’s instinctive, right?”

“You’d know wouldn’t you?” Percival teased.

“I don’t follow,” Natty said.

“This?” Percival gestured to their hair. “Their fault. They accidentally turned it purple when we were little and no one’s been able to change it back. I’d certainly call that instinctive magic.”

“Or perhaps a jinx,” Natsai chuckled.

“Mr. and Mx. Valley, a moment if you please?” Ronen called out as the last few students filed out of the classroom. 

“See you later Natty!” Idris waved.

“Yeah, what they said,” Percival laughed. “I look forward to seeing you around, and continuing to make you work for your Charms reputation.”

“I look forward to seeing you try,” Natsai laughed too before leaving.

Professor Ronen congratulated Percival again on his success and praised Idris for how quickly they learned the charm. Then he reminded them of the extra assignments Professor Weasley had mentioned which Percival would admit he had forgotten about. Ronen told them to expect one from him in the near future and sent them off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Well that was definitely a class,” Idris laughed as they followed the compass again, this time from Percival’s Field Guide.

“What do you think this one will entail?” Percival wondered. “Didn’t Fig say you seemed to have an aptitude for these spells?”

“Hell yeah he did,” Idris said. “Did you see me fighting the armor at Gringotts? I was kicking metal butt.” 

“Well as long as you’re humble about it.”

“Maybe we’ll fight a dragon and you’ll get bit again.”

“Shut up Idris.” 

Idris was still laughing as they entered the classroom, only to curse as they jumped to the left to avoid a purple spell that nearly hit them. 

“Oh great, this guy,” Idris rolled their eyes.

The Gryffindor boy Idris had gotten paired up with in charms was trading spells and shields with a Slytherin with shaggy brown hair and covered in freckles. 

“What did he do to you?” Percival questioned. 

“His name’s Leander Prewett,” Idris rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. “An arrogant prick if you ask me.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” The Slytherin taunted Leander. “ Bombarda !”

Leander threw up a shield just in time to deflect the spell, but unfortunately for him it went straight up, knocking off the head of a giant dragon skeleton suspended from the ceiling. Leander ducked and covered his head with his arms but at the last second they heard a cry of “ Levioso!” and the skull stopped in mid air, hovering just a few centimeters above Leander’s head.

“Professor Hecat!” A girl exclaimed.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” Hecat scolded them. “I get new students every year but I only have one Hebridean Black skull. It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it.”

Professor Hecat lifted her wand and the skull floated up back into place.

“Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in eastern Wales and lived to boast about it,” Hecat said. “Knowledge.”

“To the wise, age matters very little,” Hecat continued. “Today we will review a spell that has saved me from death at the hands of Dark wizards more times than I can remember: Levioso .”

“ Levioso ?” Leander scoffed. “A levitation charm?”

Hecat whipped around and casted that exact charm on Leander, making him fly into the air and hover, barely able to hold onto his bearings. 

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent,” Hecat said. “Care to defend yourself, master Prewett? No?

“Oh this is the best class ever,” Idris decided and Percival snickered as a crowd formed around Hecat. They’d ended up next to the Slytherin boy Leander had been dueling with and he snickered at Idris’s comment too. 

“One thing I’ve learned as an Unspeakable is the value of simplicity,” Hecat explained as she lowered Leander back down. “Especially in the heat of battle. Now, let’s practice what we’ve just learned, starting with something small. Mx. Valley, join me please.”

Idris approached Hecat who summoned a wooden dummy to stand in front of them. She conjured a shield charm around it but rather than the normal purple it was a golden yellow. She had Idris try a basic cast which was immediately deflected and almost hit poor Samantha. Then she taught them Levioso and had them cast that. The charm broke the shield and Idris was able to quickly follow up Levioso with a few basic casts, knocking over the dummy and even leaving a few marks on it.

“Well done,” Professor Hecat nodded. “But the best way to practice is by dueling. We’ll start with you and Mr. Sebastian Sallow. Duellists, take your marks!”

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” Sebastian, the Slytherin boy from earlier, drawled as he passed Idris and Percival considered tripping him. 

To their credit Idris just rolled their eyes and went to their mark on the floor. The floor immediately rose, leaving a platform they could try to knock each other off of. 

“Now I want a fair duel,” Hecat warned them. “Only use Levioso , Basic Cast, and Protego . You may begin.”

As it turned out, Fig saying Idris was “proficient” in defensive magic had been an understatement. As soon as Hecat said the word both duellists Idris was casting, levitating Sebastian into the air and following it up with a burst of Basic Casts. Sebastian was clearly a gifted duellist, that much had been obvious when they first walked in. But Idris was destroying him. He didn’t even have time to cast Protego with how often Idris was throwing spells at him. It took only seconds before Sebastian was on the ground looking up at Idris with wide eyes while Idris smirked down at him.

“Thanks for the welcome, Sebastian,” Idris snickered. 

Idris climbed down from the platform and offered Sebastian a hand which he surprisingly took with a laugh. Percival was immediately at Idris’ side just in case.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Sebastian chuckled. “You give as good as you get.” 

Sebastian walked off and Professor Hecat approached them. 

“I put you on the spot and you rose to the challenge,” Hecat said appreciatively. “Points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Professor Hecat,” Idris nodded. “I was just glad to finally practice these spells.”

“If what I’ve seen today is any indication, we can expect great things from you,” Hecat hummed. “I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of it and they must achieve it. A classroom duel is one thing, but battling dark wizards—or, as ever more likely, goblins—is a different kettle of Grindylows entirely.”

“I can assure you we have no intention of finding Dark wizards,” Percival promised. “But we understand all the same.”

“So, I’d advise you to keep practicing whenever you can,” Hecat suggested. “Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you. Again, well done today. I shall reach out soon with additional assignments.”

Hecat dismissed class and as the twins prepared to leave Sebastian stopped them.

“Nice work,” Sebastian said.

“Thank you,” Idris replied. “I enjoyed that.”

“That duel was quite something,” Sebastian agreed. “Everyone’ll be talking about it.”

“It was certainly good practice,” Idris said. 

“Practice?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “It felt more like I was dueling an expert. Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand. Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”

“In fact it was,” Idris replied, which Percival supposed technically wasn’t a lie. They’d certainly fought with their wand before but not another wizard.

“Perhaps you have a knack for it,” Percival shrugged.

“Be coy if you like, but I know better,” Sebastian smirked. “Magic requires intention and talent. You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” Idris grinned. “Count me in.”

Percival sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Excellent, I knew I was right about you,” Sebastian said. “If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.”

“Oh I know,” Idris snickered and narrowed their eyes at Percival who just rolled his eyes again. “I’ll keep that in mind though thank you.”

“Good,” Sebastian nodded. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Sebastian left and Percival kicked Idris in the shin.

“A secret dueling club? Really Dris?” Percival sighed. 

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to come,” Idris huffed and stuck their tongue out at him. “Now come on, we're supposed to meet Professor Weasley. I’m way too excited to see Hogsmeade.”

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Seventeen — Reascendance 

Dad’s eyes found the camera this news channel was streaming on, and his stare went entirely icy, so harsh that it felt like I was getting reprimanded a state away. “And as for this Archangel thing — I’m only giving a single warning to whoever is perpetrating these attacks. Using low-tier criminals and radicalized conspiracy theorists to do your bidding is weak, and it isn’t something I’m intimidated by. You wanted me out in the open? I’m here."

6k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: child death, implied terrorism. Sorta ooc Delsin but just pretend it's his customer service voice

Brent didn’t object when I appeared in his bedroom in the middle of the night — I knew he was awake, he wasn’t snoring. He didn’t even say anything when I took one side of the full sized bed and bundled up in the woven blanket, finally managing to fall asleep. Maybe it was the few years before we moved to Chapman where we shared a twin mattress as toddlers in that one bedroom apartment in downtown Portland, or maybe it was the fact that we entered this world sharing a womb — but I always felt better with Brent close. He’d never admit it, but he felt the same — it was an unspoken agreement of sorts.

We were up all too soon again for exams, of all things, Betty shuttling us to the absolutely miniscule high school and parking in its front lot. “God, how many kids go to school here?” Brent asked, sleep still thickening his voice. 

Betty, being chairman of the Akomish, apparently knew. “Well the middle school has about 350 kids and the high school has 270.” 

“Middle—“ I cut off, glancing back at the school. “Is this a blended school?”

Betty nodded. Holy shit, I didn’t even know schools were allowed to do that. 

Four teachers met us in the lobby, guiding us through a hall that seemed smaller than the one at my fucking gyno. We were taken to a small computer lab in a glorified broom closet, and told we’d take each exam with a break in between. “We provide lunches to those on the free and reduced lunch program during the holiday,” one guy with thick glasses said. “You’ll attend lunch with them at 11:45.” 

All this life changing drama and yet I somehow couldn’t escape my AP Lit exam. 

But hey, we survived, finishing up just before eleven and told to just sit tight. “You can even play around on the computers if you’d like,” a woman teacher that stayed behind offered, her partners all going to the lunchroom to prepare it. 

There was no hesitation; Brent immediately began typing in a news channel’s domain name, and I left my place on the other side of the room to sit beside him. 

The march was headlining news, helicopter view of COLE’s remains, which was now gated and its front absolutely covered in little offerings. Couple posters I couldn’t make out, unlit candles, one section completely dedicated to a pile of dinosaur toys. There had to be thousands, all lined up in the street and contesting it enough they had to fan into the corners of the intersections, and there at the head was Eugene Sims. 

But no Dad. 

That didn’t make sense; he left at 9 at night. He probably got to Portland by midnight, two in the morning if he was more cautious. Why wasn’t he there? Did something happen? 

Brent’s leg started going again. 

But eventually 11:05 came, and Dr. Sims started forward, leading the entire march with his own group of supporters at its head. It took me a moment to realize I knew a lot of those in the group he walked with; that financial advisor who always played on his PS Vita-lity in the break room, Annabelle. He specifically linked his arm with a woman in all black, and it took me a second to tell it was the mom of that seven year old, the charred remains of that little toy Annabelle made in her hands. 

But no Dad. 

We were ushered to the cafeteria at some point, something that didn’t really register with me because of how absolutely worried I was. I wasn’t sure if I should say luckily, but the teachers had a television going on in the cafeteria with the same feed, volume turned high, a bunch of kids ranging from sixth to senior in the tables surrounding it, all turning in place to stare at us as we were directed where to sit and handed some tray with cold cut ham sandwiches and baby carrots. 

“Hey,” one called, an older boy with hair damn near as long as mine, staring straight past me to Brent. “Aren’t you the guy from the Longhouse yesterday?” 

One of the kids, seemingly excitable ‘cause she simply wouldn’t stop moving, confirmed before Brent could even try to. “Yeah! That’s the dude with the wings!” 

We were surrounded before I could even blink. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, though; the younger ones were absolutely enamored, begging him to pull the wings out and making him act all awkward. There was one girl who immediately began flirting with him and his ears started to turn pink, but he managed to keep his cool enough to say, “Sorry, I’ve uh, got a girl.” 

The guy with long hair slid in beside me. “They’re saying you’re Rowe’s kids,” he directed at me, the only one to actually pay me any mind. “That true?” 

My first chance at admitting it. “Yeah, we are,” I said with barely any hesitation, the teeniest bit of pride managing to burst through the nausea. 

“Jean,” Brent said urgently, shooting up to stand, “Jean, look.” 

There was a bit of commotion on the television now; the march had been met with a small batch of Lifeline protestors that broke through the police barrier on an adjoining street, practically rushing forward to meet Dr. Sims and the COLE survivors. He made them stop, letting the mother of the seven year old go and gently putting her behind him, standing tall and refusing to flinch. The cops didn’t look in any rush to aid Dr. Sims either, the bastards. “They’re just gonna let them get through,” I scoffed, not even bothering to phrase it as a question as we walked closer to the television, the group moving with us. Cops around the march didn’t even flinch at the Lifeline protestors, instead eyeing the marchers, waiting for them to move to take action. 

“Where the hell is he?” Brent muttered, and I instinctively reached out to grab at his wrist in an effort to stay there. If Dad was in trouble, we’d already know, right? But I mean, how? It isn’t like he could message us, and if something happened with that Archangel thing, wouldn’t the whole point be for no one to know? 

I glanced at Brent, who was already looking down at me with the same face. I was about three minutes from stealing a car and driving to Portland myself. 

Brent looked back to the television as I felt a tap on my shoulder, a little face full of equal amounts freckles and acne looking up at me. God, was I that small at some point? “Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” She asked, giggling.

Oh I wanted to vomit. Did we really look that unalike? “Ew, god no, he’s my twin,” I almost gagged out, going to move my hand from around his wrist. His hand twisted and shot out though to keep it in place, the grip hard. 

“They’re not stopping,” Brent muttered, eyes still glued to the television. 

The chatter around us died off as they all began to realize there were more important things going on — like the altercation that was about to begin on television. Dr. Sims was losing control of the crowd, who were beginning to shift defensively. A few of the Conduits in the crowd called up their powers, the stagnant hold of sleeves of their abilities waiting to be used. Lifeline was making an aggressive beeline straight for the center, seemingly not intending on giving them any kind of space, and the cops in riot gear surrounding the show readied their weapons.

But off to the side, some hard light overexposed the camera, making the Lifeliners stop abruptly in place — especially as the aura of neon rushed down the side of a building at a speed I never knew he was capable of, the camera’s frame rate catching frozen glimpses of him mid-run. He zipped onto the road and skidded to a stop in the middle of the 10 feet of space between Lifeline and the COLE survivors, the pink and blue neon on his body slipping away into the air with a snap like a lightning bolt. Dad stood, shoulders squared and chest out as he eyed them, challenging them to try and push further. 

They didn’t dare move. 

Eugene Sims broke away from the crowd, closing that space and meeting Dad there in the middle, a hand clapping his shoulder. Dad turned, the two embracing for a quick squeeze featuring that man-back-slap thing, separating just as the camera tried zooming in on the Conduit emblem on Dad’s back. The anchor was saying something about it being Delsin Rowe, and the kids around us began looking at us again, but I didn’t care — he was okay. He made it there, and was alive. 

There was newfound vigor to the marchers, Dr. Sims taking time to lead Dad back to the group of survivors. They hovered there for quite a while, giving the camera the chance to grab that million-dollar angle it was looking for a moment ago, zoomed in only on Dad now as he talked to the COLE survivors. He went to reach out to the mother but paused midair, hands eventually falling back to his side. He was making his apologies. 

Lifeline didn’t move this entire time; in fact, when the camera zoomed back out, it showed they were standing stupidly in the middle of the road, wind gone from their sails. Their dumb little picket signs hung at their sides now, and they glanced at each other confused. Now that their theories were proven real, it seemed like they lost a reason to fight at all. Like they lost their cause, the ability to point their fingers accusingly. 

I guess that’s why, when Dad and Dr. Sims turned back around to resume the march, the Lifeline idiots gave them a wide berth, moving to the sidewalk and pushing as close to the building as possible. Dad took his place beside Eugene Sims at the helm of the Second Age Movement, only one other person missing from the original trio. 

I’m pretty sure I failed my Earth Science exam when we were shepherded back to that computer room, if I’m being honest. There was just so much distractive chatter in my mind that wouldn’t shut the hell up as I tried to remember if oceanic crust is thinner or denser than continental. Brent finished his exam a whole hour and a half later, and we left to find Betty waiting for us with her little Beetle, beaming at the fact that she gets to take us to Seattle — and immediately deflating when she figured out it wasn’t the first time we’ve been there. “We went with Dad to a gala two years ago,” Brent informed her. “Something for COLE’s charity donations,” 

She just huffed in a comical way, telling us to get in. 

Seattle’s skyscrapers reached higher than Portland’s, and there were so many more here too. It was strange being here with new context to our lives; this is where things changed for Dad. This is where he and Mom met. This is where Dad helped change things for Conduits. Not Delsin, Dad. 

Yeah, still weird to think about. 

But we got our phones, sitting in the cellular provider’s store and watching the television that streamed the end of the march as Dad, Dr. Sims and everyone else descended on Portland’s city hall. There were a few minutes of stagnant movement, the camera switched from aerial coverage to on scene as amps appeared and a mic was put up. It was normal for Dr. Sims to speak after events like this —he was their Martin Luther King Jr. after all —and sometimes when it was after a tragedy, he’d have survivors or family come up after to state their piece. 

So it was surprising when Dad stepped up to the mic first. 

Even now, in the throngs of a mall during last minute Christmas shopping, there was a tension to the air as people watched from food court televisions or the screens in here while Dad readjusted the mic a bit. There was feedback the news camera barely caught, and a weird staticky hum as Dr. Sims appeared beside Dad in a puff of pixels, a hand on his shoulder as he took a deep breath to steady himself, thinking hard on how to start. 

“For nearly sixteen years,” he finally said into the mic, putting on his smooth and slightly-deeper-sounding lawyer voice, “I’ve gone by the name Damion Rowland, and for ten of those, I’ve worked as a head legal consultant for COLE. But…the rumors are true. I’m Delsin Rowe.” 

There were immediate whispers, auditable in the crowd on the television and in the food court on our left. Dad inhaled deeply again, continuing with, “I hid after my fiancée, Abigail Walker, was killed, to protect our twins. The same fear-mongering rhetoric that took nineteen lives yesterday took my children’s mother, and I didn’t want them to be next. So I hid. That all changed last Wednesday when my daughter was kidnapped and my son was shot, all to bring me out of hiding. They…neither of them knew who I was, either. And I know most of you have seen the CCTV footage, so there’s no point in hiding it: they’re Conduits, too. I’ve spent the past few days helping them come to terms with the truth and their powers. 

“But my absence shouldn’t have provoked something like this. Nineteen people are dead, and for what? Why?” He demanded, glancing over the crowd, knowing they wouldn’t have an answer either. “Everything I’ve ever feared, nineteen different families get to experience. Right behind me is a parent that lost her son because of this attack. A seven year old boy, Elliot Prue, who loved the Mariners and dinosaurs. She—” he pointed to the mom off behind him, who had the burnt stuffed toy held close to her chest, “—shouldn’t have to bury her son. Our sixteen year old resident, Amelia Soto, shouldn’t have had her life ended before it even began. My assistant should have been able to retire, Not a single person that lost their life yesterday should have.”

Dad paused to reel himself in a bit, visibly upset at the state of things. Eugene’s hand left his shoulder to go to the mother behind Dad, who began to sob, and Dad’s shoulder visibly sagged with the absence. “I have approval from the Portland Police department and the FBI to announce that we know the cause of yesterday’s attack. A dozen people were radicalized by something called Archangel, met through the networking of this group and began planning this attack almost seven months ago. Archangel was also behind the attack on my children, so we’re assuming that the attack yesterday…that it had something to do with me. Whether they thought I’d be here in Portland’s COLE chapter or if it would draw me out, I’m not sure. 

“But I’m here now. And I can promise you all that I will do everything I can to help stop these attacks, not just violent shootings and bombs and whatever — but the words and legislation that’s causing all the fear. Conduits are here to stay, people are going to have to make peace with that. Cole MacGrath’s efforts to save those without the Conduit gene came at the price of having to live with us, and it’s time we begin searching for ways to live harmoniously, because it isn’t going to change. No more harassing your neighbors, no more stalking random people. I am going to return to my position at COLE to push back against the Conduit Registration Bill, as well as file suits against the various segregational legislations that’ve been passed recently. We’re looking to expand in fifteen more major cities in America, as well as starting chapters in Canada and Europe and expanding our services. I can only do so much for Conduits, though — it’s up to our government to find ways to bring peace to the nation without impeding on anyone’s rights.”

Dad’s eyes found the camera this news channel was streaming on, and his stare went entirely icy, so harsh that it felt like I was getting reprimanded a state away. “And as for this Archangel thing — I’m only giving a single warning to whoever is perpetrating these attacks. Using low-tier criminals and radicalized conspiracy theorists to do your bidding is weak, and it isn’t something I’m intimidated by. You wanted me out in the open? I’m here. I won’t let you use the lives of innocent people, of my children, to try and, what, scare me? It isn’t working. All you’ve done is piss me off. I’m only going to say it once: back off. Because if anything else happens, and I have to fight back? You’re going to regret ever challenging the one person with experience tearing down organizations like yours.”

That seemed to be where Dad wanted to stop, looking over his shoulder and waiting for Dr. Sims to look up, motioning towards the mic. 

The quiet in the mall erupted into chatter, shock and disbelief at the actual Delsin Rowe being back. “How didn’t anyone know? That looks like him,” I heard someone say as they entered a Bath and Body Works, rolling her eyes like there weren't eight layers of complication to the lie. Another person walked past saying, “Rowe’s kids deserved it after all the bullshit he did,” and I had to physically grip Brent by his wrist and drag him away. Thank god he was wearing the beanie so no one would realize his hair changed color. 

“Do you two need anything?” Betty asked, spinning to face us. “I know you left home with next to nothing, and I have fifteen Christmases to make up for.” She didn’t even wait for us to answer, just spun back on her heel and said, “C’mon, let’s get you two some new clothes.” 

We started to object, but the glare she shot over her shoulder shut us up. She may have been old, but I had no doubt we’d get in deep shit if we continued to go against what she said. She was little, but kinda scary. Like a rabid cat. 

She took us to as many discount department stores as possible, trying her best to get as much as she could for us out of some invisible limit she set in her mind. At first it was awkward, and Brent and I fished for the most minimal, low-priced items we could; but the way Betty’s face lit up when Brent found a nice jacket with some soft sherpa lining, and with how she insisted on him getting it…I don’t know, it was sort of sweet. It activated that deep want within me to have a grandmother, someone who’s entire job description was to love and spoil and care about me. Seems Brent got the same impression, because soon it became a sort of family bonding day, Betty learning more about us than we offered in the past five days and taking time to actually ask questions and become interested in everything we did, everything we were. 

“Oh, you do art?” Betty smiled when she caught me in the discount art section of a Ross, casually browsing all the upended supplies. “You’re so much like your father. I still have so many of his drawings from his school years, they’re hiding somewhere in storage–”

“You’ve got to show me those,” I laughed. 

Looking at the art supplies was a bit of a mistake, because we were both suddenly harassed into getting things we wanted, not just needed. Betty didn’t let me leave that aisle until I had a new sketchbook in hand and a pack of watercolor paints Brent handed to me as a joke, Betty missing the tease entirely and grabbing the set when I chucked it back at his chest, insisting I get it. “Yeah, c’mon Jean, think about how easy it’ll be to use those now.” He smirked, knowing good and well the last time I used watercolors it looked less Van Gogh and more God, no. 

“I hope you rust over one day, Tin Man,”

All that teasing dissipated, though, when Brent discovered there was an official LEGO shop on the other end of the mall. I mean, it did from him — I sure didn’t spare him from a few comments of my own. 

Everything ended at the same food court we were by when we got our phones, Betty having us put her number in our phones and message her our favorite Panda Express orders so she’d have ours. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” she gasped out, “Your father wanted you to call as soon as you could, I have his number—”

“We’ve got it memorized,” Brent assured her. “We’ll call while you grab food.”

Brent was dialing in the number before she’d left, saying as it rang, “Maybe I should have messaged him first, I dunno if he’s gonna answer some unknown nu—”

“Hello?” 

Dad sounded winded, a bit tired in a non-negative way. Like someone does after a footrace or swimming. “Hey, Dad,” Brent greeted, putting the phone on speaker and bringing it close to his ear, motioning for me to move closer so I could hear too. The mall was packed, and because of that, it was loud too. 

“Hey, son,” I could hear the smile in his voice, “Guessing you got your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Your sister too? No issues?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said, tacking on a, “How are you?” 

“Oh, hey Jean!” Dad’s chuckle was breathless as he said, “It’s something, being back out here like this. Did you see any of it?” 

“Yeah, we did. Saw your speech and saw you get there late—” Brent glanced at me and motioned forward. “See you right now, too.”

I looked where Brent was pointing, to a large flat screen television posted on the skylight’s support beam; the news’ camera feed was still, not exactly grounded but definitely not in a helicopter, pointed to Dad as he paced a bit in place in an alleyway, phone to his ear. 

But he froze immediately when Brent said that, glancing around. “What do you mean you see me now? You’re not here, right?” 

I chuckled, “No, you’re still on camera.”

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed, and he kept looking around, suspicious. “Well that’s great,” He scoffed, annoyed. “Where?”

“Okay so, turn right.” Dad did, Brent immediately becoming confused when Dad’s back faced the camera. “Wait that’s — are cameras inverted?” he asked me.

“No, you’re just an idiot, that’s Dad’s left. Dad, turn around.”

“Wait are they — are they left or behind?”

“Around, do a 180.”

Dad turned in place, and I caught the tail end of an eye roll. “Okay, now what?”

“Whatever’s in front of you, it’s on that, but higher. Start looking up.” 

“What, on this building?” Dad asked, eyes trailing up and shooting around. It only took a few glances before his eyes settled on screen, looking directly in the camera’s lens. “Oh, there it is.”

And with that, he raised a hand, pink and blue beginning to swirl around his arm in a bright pulse, and shot the camera, killing the feed. “Can you still see me?”

“No, you’re good now.” 

“Good, okay.” Dad sighed. “I don’t want anyone recording our conversation.”

“But there wasn’t audio—” I started, Dad immediately cutting me off as if he knew that was what I was going to bring up. 

“Even if there isn’t, they can still get someone to read my lips,” He tacked on, the camera switching to helicopter view, trying to focus in on him in the alley. With a camera so much farther away, his features became grainy as it zoomed in. “It’s — we’ve gotta be safe, now.”

“Yeah,” Brent hummed. I started nodding, taking a moment to remember he wouldn’t be able to see me before throwing in some sound of agreement.

“That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you two about. Have either of you logged into anything online, or talked to anyone yet?”

“We haven’t had the chance,” I shook my head, “Betty’s made this into a whole field trip, this is the first time we’ve actually sat and gotten on them.”

Brent inhaled, “I did. I got on my discord while you were trying on something.”

“Trying on—” Dad sighed, the camera feed catching him bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Betty took you two shopping, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“I shoulda known.” Dad shook his head, laughing. But the sound quickly died in his throat. “If you saw the speech, you heard about Archangel. They’re behind yesterday’s attack, and I — we need to be careful for a bit longer, at least until Eugene and I find out more about them. I know I said you could talk to people and such, but until we know more about these guys, I want you to keep quiet. Don’t log into anything that can track your location, don’t tell anyone where you are.”

“Do you know why they did it?” I asked, admittedly throwing a glance over my shoulder; was it even safe to be out right now? 

Dad shrugged on camera, shaking his head. “Not really. I know I made them sound incompetent in my speech but these guys know what they’re doing. And the attackers won’t talk — they brought me in as a last resort to talk to who they think was in charge of everything, and he said something about it. That’s all we’ve gotten out of them so far,”

“But you think it has something to do with you?” Brent asked. 

“When the FBI sent me into the interrogation room, we had this whole thing planned where I’d pose as his counsel, see if I could get him to slip up. Guy knew I was Delsin Rowe, even without the vest,” Dad scoffed. “Called me out and said something about how Archangel was going to be happy to know I was returning. I know it has something to do with me.” 

I began absentmindedly playing with the aglet on the end of my hoodie’s drawstring. “That’s not good,” I muttered, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious. 

“It isn’t,” Dad agreed, “And until Eugene and I can learn more about them, I want you two to stay safe. So far we know none are Conduits, and they’re all lackeys to something bigger — but what is that bigger, y’know?”

“They’re probably just some sort of Lifeline wanna-be,” Brent scoffed, “Bunch of crazies that got too ahead of themselves,” 

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Dad leaned against a wall on camera, glancing up at the helicopter, “But either way, they had the organizational skills to kill nineteen people. To find me and track Jean in the mall. Crazies or not, I don’t like that they can plan,” 

“Makes them stronger.” I threw in. 

“Exactly.” 

“Dr. Sims — what’s his power, technology?” I asked. 

Dad chuckled a bit. “Close — video.” 

Right, video. What the hell did video powers entail? Either way, I continued with, “Can he use it to follow any like, online footprints? I don’t really know how the power works but they had to coordinate somehow,” 

Dad hummed. “That’s a good point. I know Eugene can manipulate technology to an extent, I’ll see what he can do. Maybe I’ll work with the FBI to see if we can get access to their things under the Patriot Act and look over them tomorrow.” 

Brent seemed to catch on to something, the thought in the back of his mind forcing its way out of his mouth as he asked, “Are you still gonna come back tomorrow?” 

I could see Dad’s hand come up, making some sort of motion that I only realized a few seconds later was snapping. “I wanted to bring that up, too. I was thinking about swinging by the house and grabbing some things, since we’re going to be staying in Salmon Bay for now. Get all your clothes, grab some other stuff until we decide what happens next. But that’d mean I definitely wouldn’t be back till Christmas Eve.” 

Brent glanced at me, and I could see the discomfort in his eyes; there've been times on his work trips before where extra days were added to it, and we weren’t really phased. But now? I really wanted nothing more than to know he was going to be back as soon as possible. But on the other hand, having some of my actual possessions, clothes that fit right and my makeup and the chest that held my art supplies — it didn’t sound too bad. 

“Sure, if you want,” I eventually said, watching Dad nod on screen.

“Okay. I won’t be able to bring everything, but I’ll pack all your clothes, and you can send me messages about what you want me to grab.” 

A Christmas miracle — we get some of our identity back. “Sounds good,” Brent agreed, fiddling mindlessly with the silicone of his phone case. 

“What else are you going to do today?” I asked the receiver, watching Dad kick away at some slushed snow by his feet. 

“Gonna go to the hospital, visit the survivors. I have a lot of apologies I gotta give. Margie’s wake starts at five, and I want to be there for Antonio, plus we’re covering funeral costs for all the victims so I’m gonna get together with COLE and hunt down relatives, find out if there’s any next of kin that want things done a certain way.” 

Jeez, this conversation suddenly turned bleak. And on top of that, Dad was going to try and crack the domestic terrorists that blew up COLE — was there even enough time in the day to do everything? “But you’ll be back Christmas Eve?” I nearly begged for confirmation. 

“Yeah. Promise.” 

Next came the goodbyes, promises we’ll check in with him every now and then and a repeated assurance that we’d be together for Christmas. It was such a stupid thing to worry about, but it was the only bit of normalcy I was aching for; our movie marathon full of tales that didn’t really count as Christmas movies if you thought about it, the Christmas Eve taquitos meal tradition that started after Dad nearly burnt down the house trying to make turkey and we had to visit a taco truck. Maybe I could even convince them to bring back Tent City and make a pillow fort out of Ruth’s blankets and the stale bed sheets we found when unpacking. Sure, Brent and I weren’t waiting for the second we could open our presents anymore, but it had to be fun, right? 

The time leading up to Christmas Eve felt awkwardly stagnant, kinda like waiting for a doctor appointment planned just after noon; like we couldn’t concentrate too hard on something out of fear that we’d miss our appointment. Like we were waiting for change. I regularly pulled up live news streams to see if Dad would make an appearance just to make sure everything was fine, and when I wasn’t, Brent was browsing the internet to see what everyone was saying. At some point I snuck a peek over his shoulder to see him on Mei’s profile, staring at a post that simply said I just hope you’re safe posted the same day we were ambushed at the mall, and didn’t do much more than squeeze his shoulder when he realized I was looking. 

I understood; I found myself on Reese’s profile a few times, thumb immediately jumping to the ‘message’ icon out of reflex before I pulled it back. It was this, the torturous in between, that made the hours pass at a snail's pace, waiting for further instruction. Waiting to see what bits of normalcy we could reclaim. 

Dad called regularly, which was a nice reprieve from it all despite how depressing what he was doing was; Margie was cremated, and her funeral was due to be hosted on the second. The young boy, Elliot, got a beautiful burial plot with a headstone in the shape of a t-rex, his favorite dinosaur, all thanks to some charity. He called when in the house to finalize what all he should grab, and only after we hung up did Brent’s face pale as he said, “Oh, fuck, he’s going to pack our clothes,” 

“Yeah?” I watched as he laid his head in his hands, confused. Brent already knew this, why was he freaking out? “What’s so bad about that?” 

Brent’s hands left his face to rest of the sides of his head as he muttered, “My dab pen is in my bottom drawer,” 

“Your—“ I snorted, earning a dirty look from him. “You hid your weed in your underwear drawer? What are you, five?”

“He’s gonna kill me,” Brent said with a resigned finality. “I’m actually going to die.” 

“Will me your LEGO collection before you do so I can sell it on eBay,” 

Later that day as Brent grappled with his impending death, I stared at the watercolors Betty got me before finally giving in and opening them, turning to the first page of the new sketchbook and staring at it. Watercolor. Watercolor. I could totally do this, right? And if not, I’d just throw it away and act like it never happened. 

My inspiration came from those few minutes of peace as I floated in the Puget Sound, staring up at the rippling sunlight refracting off of the water’s surface. I could see the picture almost perfectly in my mind, so much so that when I summoned my water gauntlets, I was able to pull and mix the shades I needed, slowly beginning to layer them on the canvas. 

Bleeding art into the page with my powers was something else entirely. Making art felt vulnerable in a soft way, like exposing pieces of myself in flashes; but using water to spread the blue and shade it deeper the further down the page it went, to highlight ripples in the surface of the water and create shining rays of sunlight…it felt sincere. Forthright. Like I was screaming through the canvas here I am, the water Conduit, and I have something I need you to understand! The end product actually looked like what I meant it to this time, no doubt because I had way more control over the display. Kinda hard to fuck up your brush strokes if you’re literally using some form of hydrokinesis on a water based product. Next came the ink, something I added way too early and caused it to bleed a bit, ink blots escaping from the solid black silhouette of what was supposed to be my body and trying to unsuccessfully slip away before sinking into the page. Honestly, though? I liked how it looked. Something about the contrast between the soft watercolor and the harsh ink struck me, even if this picture was technically a failure. I let the page dry and closed the book, vowing to try and do more after the holidays as the clock hit ten at night. I had to get started on Brent’s gift, anyways.

[coro-chan6]

Omgoodness, I'm back for the third day in a row. I wrote another drabble for the same OC's from last time. I think I might make this a little drabble series called "The Power Polys"... titles still a work-in-progress.

Those Little Dark Days

Summary - Agatha has a bad day. Their girlfriends are there to help them.

Warnings - poly! relationship, queer relationship, gn! character, metions of ultra gold monster energy drinks, fake guns (pfft-), crying, comfort blanket, metions of the menace Killua, cuddles, Mickey Mouse, Freddie Mercury, fluff, crackhead convos

Words - 1285

It seemed that Agatha had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. The moment they had dragged themselves from under the covers, they felt like something was off. They knew today was going to be a bad day.

Agatha hated thinking so negatively. They were usually the most positive out of all of their partners, but they couldn’t shake this feeling. First, it started off with forgetfulness. Agatha had to practically rush out of the door because they had forgotten to brush their teeth, then they had to go back to put on deodorant, and they were about to turn around to get kisses from their girlfriends but thought against it. They were pretty stressed out and could have used the love, but they didn’t want to transfer that stress to their lovers.

Then came the fidgeting. Now, Agatha was no stranger when it came to this. They fidgeted all of the time, but today was so bad. So bad, in fact, that multiple customers had asked if they had been on something. They had not been, but they couldn’t stop. Their Hot Topic badge had been rotated around their neck millions of times, their cheap rings were turning their fingers black from how much they had been twisting them, and all of the shirts in the store had been folded to such perfection, but Agatha couldn’t help but fold them again and again. 

It had been the 5th time around the store re-folding clothes that Francis came in. They had planned to have lunch together and Agatha had completely forgotten. They apologized profusely while also trying to play off their panic to not freak out their girlfriend. 

“No need to apologize, baby,” Francis had cooed while taking a sip of her ultra gold monster energy drink, “You still fine with our usual spot?” Then they had been off to the quaint cafe near the mall. Agatha’s mind was still reeling though. It took them so long to order that Francis had to take over, then they had almost cried when their usual order was not what they wanted. They were too busy looking down at the table to see Francis looking at them in concern.

When they got back to work and it took 5 minutes for anyone to catch their attention, their coworker, Annabelle, suggested that Agatha should go home. They almost exploded on the poor girl when all she wanted to do was help. 

They did end up taking the advice. It would not have been ideal if the manager started screaming at customers for no reason. It didn’t make it less demoralizing to walk out of the store as if they had been fired, and then come home to an empty house. 

All Agatha wanted was their girlfriends' attention. They hadn’t eaten anything since last night since they had to hurry out the door and because they couldn’t stand the sight of their English muffin at the cafe. They had felt rushed all day and it wasn’t doing anything for their anxiety. 

They tried to do what usually helped them calm down, sewing random patches on their old jean jacket. The Killua patch they were trying to put on just wouldn’t cooperate making them even more worked up.

So, this left them with their last option. Crying their eyes out under their comfort Freddie Mercury blanket. They knew the minute either of their girlfriends saw the blanket out, they would know something was wrong, but that didn’t concern them. Something was wrong. 

They cried for what felt like hours but was only about 30 minutes before they heard the bedroom door open through their sniffles. They felt the bed sink before the soft voice of their partner floated into their ears.

“You’ll suffocate under all of those blankets,” Emily had stated bluntly. She was never all that good at comfort if it wasn’t aftercare, but even her rigid words were better than being alone right now.

Peeking their face out of the covers, Agatha huffed, “Bad day,” they murmured. 

“I know. Francis called a code red. I thought she was overreacting, but she’s obviously better at seeing these things than me.” Agatha felt their lips twitch at the thought of Francis picking up on their mood. 

“Where is she?” 

“Got caught up doing a cringey lion mural on some Chad’s back,” Agatha giggled at this, “There’s my sunshine. What’s gotten you so sad?”

They shrugged.

“Anything I can do to help?” Emily quirked an eyebrow in mock seduction, knowing now was not the time. Agatha let out a huff of amusement before lifting their arms from under the blanket to make grabby hands, “Cuddles it is then.”

Emily moved to get under the Freddie Mercury blanket, tangling her legs with theirs.

A couple of minutes go by before Emily breaks the silence, “Francis and I missed you this morning.”

“Was in a rush,” Agatha replies with their cheek pressed against Emily’s chest, “Mind was all over the place.”

“Oh. That’s kinda what Francis said. This making you feel a little better?”

“Lot better,” Agatha whispered. At that moment, the bedroom door creaked open once more. In the doorway, Francis stood looking a bit disheveled. She held her 7th ultra gold monster energy drink for the day, already empty. When she spotted her partners in bed together and then saw Agatha’s comfort blanket, she tossed the golden can in the trash, which she would later retrieve for her ultra gold monster gun she was building, and rushed over.

“You okay, baby? I’m so sorry I took that long. I was tatting this-”

“Cringey lion mural. I know,” Agatha interrupted while patting the empty spot on the bed. Francis still looked slightly worried but after she had a quick, silent conversation over Agatha’s head with Emily, Francis finally laid down.

“Did you eat, lovely?” Francis asked while stroking Agatha’s head. They shook their head and Francis went to get up again.

“I got it,” Emily said, shifting Agatha’s head onto Francis’ chest. The minute the door closed shut, Francis looked down at her partner curled in her lap.

“You could’ve told me you know,” her voice was soft, “I wouldn't have hesitated to help.”

“Didn’t really know what was going on until later. Didn’t wanna worry you over nothin’,” Francis gently lifted Agatha’s face to look up at hers.

“I don’t care if it was nothing. I love you and I’m gonna worry about you either way, so you might as well tell me when something’s wrong. Remember, baby? Our little talk about that thing that’s almost as sexy as you?” Francis started doing jazz hands, “Communication. Wow, oh my goodness. Who would’ve thought!” Francis said in a teasing tone. Agatha sank their face into her chest to hide their laughter.

“Promise you’ll tell one of your wonderful girlfriends next time?” Francis’ hazel eyes had a seriousness that was usually absent. She ran her fingers down Agatha’s back for their comfort and her own.

“I promise,” Agatha said, pulling their worried girlfriend closer.

Francis visually relaxed, putting a kiss on her partner's cheek. The door opened for the last time that evening and Emily came in with a tray of Agatha’s favorite sandwiches. 

“Emily… you did not make these all shaped like Mickey Mouse.” Agatha failed to hold back their snort which cued Emily to attempt to do the Mickey Mouse laugh; it went poorly. 

“You’re a fucking child, Em,” Francis mocked, mouth full of a Mickey Mouse bologna sandwich.

“I’m your child.”

“...ew, Em.” Agatha just sat and watched their partners banter, happy that they could spend the end of their bad day with the two people they loved most.

an: my mom's been asking to read the stuff I write- I write smut and gay things. She's not homophobic or anything but it's still uncomfy yk? And I am NOT showing her my smut. It circulating around my school is more than enough for me-

[eponymoussquared]

Discarded Darling, Part 2

After WAAAY too long, its here! This took ALOT of workshopping, but I think this is a decent sequel to both Escape from the Plothole and Discarded Darling, although mainly the latter. In the next part, which hopefully will come a little sooner, there will finally be some answers as to what the hell is going on, and who the flying fudge is this Twistongue guy I keep mentioning. Now, lets begin! Warning: This is LONG. Longer then it usually, is, anyway. Its more like an actual chapter this time. ================================================

Michael

Michael was standing in the school hallway, the surrounding lockers covered with scorch marks from the battle that had just occurred. He was standing with one foot on Idris’s back, pinning him down. On his right, his girlfriend, Annabel, cheered, crying tears of joy. Michaels mouth opened, and he heard his voice say ‘Pathetic as always, Idris. Come back when you can actually make me break a sweat.” Idris snarled at him, and Michael dug his foot deeper in. Annabel cheered again. She was crying even harder now. Why was she still crying? Michael opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but instead he heard himself say “Annabel, would you like to do the honors of reminding Idris what his place in the world is?” Annabel nodded, smiling happily despite the blotches of red beginning to appear on her eyes. Michael wanted to ask her what was wrong, to tell her everything was ok now. But his mouth wouldn’t move. His head involuntarily turned back to Idris, who was crying now as well, but his face was full of defiance and rage. Michael felt a twinge of anger at Idris’s apparent lack of fear, even as he wondered why he wanted Idris to fear him. He handed a sword, seemingly drawn from nowhere, to Annabel, who took it, stepping in front of Idris, her whole face stained with tears. Michaels vision began to blur. Was he crying too? Why was he crying? Everything was perfect. The heroes had defeated the villains. This was how it was supposed to be. Through the film of liquid, he thought he could see shining white strings coming out of Annabel's limbs, which seemed to be coming from directly above his head. He tried to look up, but he couldn’t. He could only watch as she swung the sword down at Idris’s face and his tears mixed with blood.

Michael awoke from his slumber on a cold, hard floor. He shot up, frantically looking around, but there was no one there. He was alone. Where had all the other kids gone? School wasn’t over yet…then he noticed the colors—or the lack of, rather. Arcana Academy wasn’t exactly pretty, but every wall was painted a vibrant blue, every window made of stained glass, every door created from shining wood. There were no windows here, and the colors ranged from light gray to total darkness. There were hallways going in all directions with no end in sight, with paths in the middle of them seemingly creating a never-ending grid. The walls were bare, and the little light there seemed to come from nowhere at all.

Michael stood up slowly, memories flashing through his head. He’d been running from his classmates because…of something, and then he’d…fallen? His memories were hazy. He tried to recollect them, but his train of thought was derailed by voices from behind him. It was faint at first, but it grew louder and louder, and he began to hear the clanging of weapons accompanied by chatter. Against his better judgement, he began to walk down one of the hallways towards the noise, and eventually caught sight of two figures.

One of them was a man with dark skin wearing cargo pants and a pink-and-black checkered shirt that almost seemed to blur as he looked at it. The other was cloaked in shadow, save for two dots of white glowing light. The checker-shirted man seemed to be on the defensive, being pushed back by the hidden figure. Michael wished he could see better, and before he knew it, the entire world around him shifted, and he saw through the eyes of another. ================================================

Jonah

Jonah knew that he couldn’t take his eyes off the Plot Reaper, but he was sorely tempted to. It wasn’t that he was intimidated. That had been the case once, but Jonah had grown all too familiar with the pale, thin, almost skeletal figure cloaked in black to panic at the sight of them. It wasn’t the skull mask they wore over their face, leaving only their unnaturally sharp teeth visible below its upper jaw. It wasn’t the admittedly nauseating red goo that dripped from their sleeves and hood. It wasn’t even their unconventional weapons, twin daggers that looked like they were made of spinal segments, coated in the same goo that covered the rest of their attire. No, what made Jonah want to look away was the eyes.

The Reaper’s face wasn’t very visible through their mask, but behind the eye holes were two bright pinpricks of white flame. It cast no light on the surroundings, but it still hurt to look at, making him tear up a bit just from keeping eye contact. Yet he kept his gaze firm. He closed one eye, then opened it, closing the other a moment after, alternating so as to always keep his gaze trained on his foe.

The Reaper seemed amused by this. They chuckled in a raspy, guttural voice that reminded Jonah of the sound of scratching on wood. 

“I thought you were smarter than this, Jonah. We both know you won’t be able to keep your sights on me forever. Try to play chicken with me, and you’ll come up—”Jonah didn’t let them finish, slashing at them with the longsword that had appeared in his hands. The Reaper ducked out of the way, swiping at Jonah with their scythe, which he barely managed to parry. 

“You might have gotten better at summoning objects, but your swordsmanship is still quite pathe—” Jonah interrupted again by swinging at their head, causing them to roll to the side.

“WOULD YOU LET ME SPEAK FOR TWO SECONDS?”

Jonah just smirked. “Aren’t killers supposed to be more quiet? You never stop running your mouth anytime we do this.” 

The Reaper glared at him for a moment, its eyes glowing brighter and more focused, before the glare dimmed and they smiled smugly.“Some are, maybe. But I prefer to make conversation with my prey. It gives them a false sense of hope that they can reason with me. It's also an extremely convenient distraction from what’s behind you.” Jonah immediately whipped around, slicing through the air. 

Air and nothing else.

  Jonah immediately turned around, cursing under his breath, but the Reaper was already gone, save for the grating sound of its laughter, which filled the halls, echoing down them in every direction. “Stupid, stupid, STUPID!” His thoughts repeated over and over. “They can teleport when you stop looking at them, idiot! You KNOW this! Now stop having a pity party and go on guard!”

Jonah shook himself, and backed up against the nearest wall. He knew the Reaper could only appear in places people weren’t looking, so as long as his back was covered, he had a chance of not getting gutted from behind. He also knew that the Reaper was watching HIM, so he couldn’t use the same trick to escape. It didn’t help that they were still laughing, filling the air with raspy cackles of maniacal glee.

“Heheheheheh…HAHAHAHAHA! I can’t-hehehe-I can’t believe you actually fell for that! You-pfff-you seriously fell for the ‘look behind you’ trick!” Their voice adopted a mocking tone, mimicking Jonah’s earlier smugness. “Aren’t heroes supposed to be genre savvy?” 

Jonah didn’t respond. He couldn’t afford to be distracted this time, his eyes darting left to right, but the Reaper didn’t come from either end of the seemingly endless hall. Jonah waited. The Reaper was still talking, but their voice seemed to come from all directions. 

“Honestly, I thought you’d be more experienced than this after all this time. It's no fun putting effort into prey as underwhelming as you. Let me give you a lesson. No matter how observant one is…”Jonah’s forehead was thick with sweat. He wiped a hand over it, then froze.On his hand was a film of red slime. Jonah looked up, and two lights looked back at him. The Reaper, now holding a scythe made of sharpened bone which was stuck into the wall, was hanging right above him.

“Everyone has blind spots.”

With that, they dislodged the scythes blade and slashed it into the ground, hitting the tiled floor a split second after Jonah had dived out of the way. The Reaper turned their gaze back up, but it was too late. Jonah was gone. They stood confused for a moment, then let out a bone-chilling cackle.

“So, you figured out how to copy my technique, hmm? Getting me to take my eyes off you there…maybe you’re worthy prey after all, Jonah.” The Reaper grinned unnaturally wide, removing their scythe from the ground. 

“Now, let's see how well you’ve managed to hide this time.” They took a single step forward, and in the next moment there was no one in the hallway at all.

Jonah allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief from the corner he had teleported behind, staring at the back of the small black-haired boy who seemed to have been watching. He was dressed in what appeared to be a blue school uniform, although it sported a knee-length cape with matching colors. He reached out a hand and- ================================================

Michael

Michaels vision became his own again and he opened his mouth to scream as a hand went over his mouth. “Quiet!” The voice behind him hissed. “Do you want him to come back?” Michael slowly shook his head, and the man released him. His knees went weak and he collapsed on the floor. What had just happened? For a moment, he’d been someone else, thought with someone else’s mind, seen with someone else’s eyes. Was this some sort of new magic? He had always been the top student at the academy, but this wasn’t like the magic he normally used…

What magic DID he use? Michael wracked his brain, but all he could recall is having classmates do his work for him. Annabel was often the candidate, but the rest of them seemed to have no faces or names, or perhaps he couldn’t recall them. A tap on his shoulder broke him out of his trance and he nearly screamed again before managing to suppress it. “I know you're confused right now, and I can explain everything, but we need to get out of here first, ok?”

Michael turned to the man behind him,(Jonah. His name was Jonah, but Michael shouldn’t have known that, and yet he did.) who was wearing a gentle, if slightly anxious, smile. “I need you to listen to me and do exactly what I say. Ok?” He managed a nod. “Good. Now, take my hand and close your eyes. Imagine the smell of musty paper, the feeling of wooden boards under your feet.” Michael did his best, remembering the library in his school, before the grip suddenly tightened. “No! Not there. Nevermind, just-concentrate on my hand, ok? Don’t let go.” Despite his confusion growing with every word this strange man spoke, Michael complied.

After five seconds, he thought he heard something, the slightest noise, and Jonah let go of his hand. He opened his eyes in surprise, and saw they were no longer in a place of endless gray hallways, but a room lined with books that he didn’t recognize. Finally, Michael found the courage to speak. 

“Where are we? What happened back there? What’s going on? Where was that? WHO was that? What-” Jonah interrupted him with shushing motion.

“Whoaaaa. Okay, I know you're confused, but I can’t answer that many questions at once. Ok, let's see..we’re in my house, I was fighting off the Plot Reaper in his little dimension of endless hallways, and I don’t quite know what's going on. I was hoping you could tell me. My name is Jonah, by the way. What's yours?” Michael absently noticed he was shivering intensely, but he couldn’t figure out how to stop it. “I know.” This earned a raised eyebrow from the larger man.

“I know? That's a strange name.” Michael shook his head fervently.  “No, I mean-I know. My name is Michael, and your name is Jonah. I knew that. Before you told me. I saw through your eyes for a moment back there. How did I do that? What did I even do?”

Jonah opened his mouth, then closed it. For a moment, he looked almost angry, but then his eyes softened and he said "I think you better sit down for this. Let me get some tea."

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

The Savior Complex [Part 1 of 2] Game On [Chris Redfield x Female Reader]

A/n: shameless smut warning. Part one is an introduction.

The alarm sounds, engulfing the control room in a red hue as the cameras catch an intruder entering the elevator on the top floor. An image appears on the computer screen, and you snort in annoyance.

Redfield. And now of all times.

It’s been five years since you had seen him, two years to be exact, taking into account that you were in Louisiana when he went into the mines to arrest Lucas. You never spoke to him, but you left items – covered in lipstick kiss marks – for him to find.

It's no surprise that he found this place, an abandoned testing facility 95 meters below the North Sea and with a unit as well.

But he caught you at the wrong time. You were just about to leave.

Must he always put his nose in my business?

Chris is an irritant, a pest ruining the hard work you put into setting up negotiations and delivering data or virus samples to buyers across the country. It's an earnest living but pays well. Though not as of late.

And Chris is to blame.

It irritates you. The dealers you work for don't seem to care what Chris does or how close he's come to learning who they are; they don't even care about what will happen to you should he catch you.

He's not one to underestimate. But you have to admit; the chase is worth it.

Perhaps you'd even go so far as to say you have a crush on him. There's a pronounced sexual relationship brewing between you and him. Chris knows it. His eyes linger too long on you, and he doesn't put up much of a fight when he has you. It's like he wants you to choose him over your lifeline.

You wonder if he enjoys the chase just as much as you do. Too bad he has a target on his back; you'd sacrifice it all for him otherwise.

So, once you manage to separate him via a simulated outbreak from the rest of his unit, you trap him in the mountain region and use your key card to take the elevator up to the area floor, waiting in anticipation for him to arrive at the cabin.

When at last he does arrive, cursing under his breath as you wait for him to come further into the cabin, soaking wet from the artificial rain pouring outside, you seize the opportunity to sneak up behind him and point your handgun at his head.

Chris grunts and tenses up.

“Easy big man,” you tease. “Put the shotgun and the sidearm down on the floor; nice and slow for me, and don't give me a reason to put a bullet in your pretty head.”

Chris unholsters his handgun and kneels to do as you order, giving you a good look at his jean-covered ass. Once he leans up, you glide your hand across his chest, pleased with how his wet turtle neck sticks to his thick muscles. You take the combat knife from the sheath on his vest and toss it onto the wooden floor.

Easing around him, you nudge the guns from his reach with your foot, grinning as his curious brown eyes meet yours.

“What are you doing here?”

You laugh. “As if you don't know. Our paths always end up crossing at some point. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen.”

“I missed you in Louisiana,” he mentions. “But I got your gifts; real cute.”

You snort; he knows the color well. “You did me a favor and killed that idiot, Lucas, though I heard he almost killed you. What a shame that would have been.”

“He did enough damage,” Chris states.

You hum and shrug your shoulders. “Who Lucas killed is none of my concern. I collect the data and manage the sales.”

Chris gives you a dirty look. “A lot of innocent men died in those mines. Have you no––“

Anger boils your blood.

“I didn't kill them,” you state.

You weren't responsible for Eveline; those idiots aboard the Annabel couldn't control her. And what Lucas Baker did to his team was not on you.

“It's because of people like you,” Chris denounces. “Innocent people keep dying because you have no humanity. When are you going to stop this?”

How dare he. You shove the gun into his face.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You have no idea the hell I've lived,” you argue.

Chris grabs your gun hand and uses the other to snap your wrist back, forcing the barrel into the air. You grunt in pain as he wrestles the gun from your hand, sending it skidding across the floor. He spins you around and wraps his large arms across your chest, pinning you to him.

“Bastard,” you sneer, realizing that he upset you on purpose.

He knows how you feel about your role, that you hate being a courier for the black-market buyers, but he doesn't know how far you will go to keep this life. He can't change you.

You can't let him; you will go back to being no one.

Hitting him in the head with your elbow as hard as you can, you lock an arm around his neck and the other around his upper limb, taking advantage of his strength to push your body into the fetal position. You kick out your legs using the momentum to send Chris over you as you land on your ass on the floor.

You pick up his knife, crawling onto him as you shove the blade against his neck. The moisture on his skin seeps into your clothing, making you shiver.

“That was a low blow,” you mention.

Chris glares at you. “It's true. You don't care because you don't see the damage you've done. Hundreds of thousands of people have died because of you, and I know you don't want to do this.”

“I have to,” you argue back. “I can't turn around now.”

He grabs your knife-hand. “You still have a chance.”

Tears gather in your eyes.

“You can't save me, hero.”

Chris frowns. “Then I’m sorry for this.”

He brings a hand up to his ear and presses a button on a wireless headset that you must have overlooked earlier, then the door bursts open. Before you can react, a stun grenade hits the floor and goes off with a sudden bang, blinding you.

In those five seconds it takes for your vision to somewhat clear, someone grabs your arms and shoves you onto your stomach, strapping your hands behind your back. You struggle against them, but to no avail.

After images flash before your eyes and something closes around your mouth and nose. A sweet aroma fills consumes you, like the aroma of disinfectants. You hold your breath and kick, but after five minutes, the world around you fades to black.

[bluefirewrites]

Prince Protection Program AU

The response to the last post has been amazing. Thanks guys. I don’t plan on making a full on story ( I did at one point, but I have a lot of WIPs to work on), but I still have some riffs to unleash. This is my take on the boys’ life  pre-PPP. Enjoy!

(Also changed the name of Reggie’s kingdom and swapped it for Luke’s btw) 

Link to first post and artwork

Palace life sucked ass.

Usually Lukas would experience that brief split-second of bliss waking up in the morning, where he would blink against the Mediterranean sun seeping through the cracks in his curtains, the feeling of his body cocooned in silk sheets hitting him first and not the fact that he was the Crowned Prince of Solaria.

But after that, it all came crashing down on him in the form of knocking on his door, followed by the more forceful opening of his door, and the filing in of his guardian.

“Ugh,” the prince rolled around, stuffing his head under a pillow, “Five… minutes…”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” James stalked over, tugging the covers off of him, causing Lukas to groan at the loss of warmth, “You know what today is.”

How could he not? It had only been the very thing his parents would talk about for the past year-

The day he would be crowned king.

As was tradition, he was seventeen years of age, the time for him to learn how to be a proper ruler to succeed his father King Mitchell.

Though the problem lay in the very fact that Lukas was many things.

But proper he was not.

Lukas rose, reluctantly, which struck James quite odd. Normally there would be more complaints, a bout or two before he would summon the guards to extricate him from the bed.

“I’ll-” A yawn broke out and the young man rubbed his eyes to rouse himself, “I’ll be there soon.”

James raised an eyebrow.

Lukas lifted a palm in good faith, “I promise.”

The older man stared at him for a moment before leaving to attend to other duties. As soon as he left, the prince quietly tip-toed to the doors, pressing his ear against the cool wood and waited. The sounds of footsteps faded, marking his guardian’s disappearance around the corner.

“Sucker,” Lukas laughed, before shrugging on a shirt, swiping his headphones off his desk, and booking it to his balcony.

He had about a minute and half to scale down the vines encasing his wing of the palace before the guards caught him. 

Over the years, he had to get a bit creative to evade palace security, with his parents sealing off most exits, doubling the guards stationed by his window at night, but nowadays it was much easier to do the riskier, more obvious way to escape. 

No one would expect it.

Hopping down to the lower level and pressing himself against the wall, he crab-walked until he found the door leading into the kitchen.

He slipped through, greeting the staff who all shook their heads at him. They knew better than to dissuade him from doing what he was about to do.  All Geneveive, the head cook, could do was send him off with a bag of food with a “Hurry back now or James will have our heads.”

Biting off a piece of bread, he thanked her with a wink and was off, dancing around the extra busy kitchen and putting on his headphones in the process.

With Nirvana blaring in his ears, Lukas made it to the waterfront and hopped into one of the more modest fishing boats (exchanging one of Genevieve’s sponge cakes for the keys. Thank you, Garrison) and motored off to the islet a few miles out.

20 minutes later, he moored to the dingy port where two other boats were stationed on the small piece of land.

“Oh my god,” he heard someone holler, a guy about his age with jet-black hair and swim trunks, “Is that the future King of Solaria?”

Lukas rolled his eyes, lugging around the small back, “Oh my god. Is that Reginald? The future King of the Crescent Cape?” he mimicked.

Another boy, blonde and tall, lay under the shade of a tree reading, scoffed, “Unfortunately.”

Reginald and Lukas locked eyes and smirked.

“Wait,” Reginald squinted at the blonde, “Is that- No way! It is, Lukas!”

“It so is!” Lukas gasped excitedly, “You’re Prince Alexander!”

“Of the Grybrian Isles? OMG!”

“Thought he’d be taller,”

“Thought he’d be more handsome,”

Alexander got to his feet, rolling his eyes, “Alright. Can you two be any more louder? Do you want them to find us?”

“Chill, they haven’t caught us yet,” Reginald reassured, leading the two other princes deeper into the patch of greenery on the tiny island, one that they all had discovered and have been running to to get away from prince duties for years now.

Lukas would have been driven to madness by royal duties if it weren’t for his friends from the neighboring kingdoms. He, Reginald, and Alexander had known each other their whole lives, their domains all clustered together that made visiting each other so easy. 

But every now and then, they needed to get away from the watchful eye of their parents and guards and the citizens and just be… them.

Lukas was lucky to know that he wasn’t alone in feeling this way, and that he could always turn to his friends.

“You goons better be hungry,” Lukas announced, tossing the bag of food their way.

Reggie dug into the snacks ravenously, “When aren’t we?”

Meanwhile, Alex was pacing, set on a nervous bender, “Aren’t you guys… I don’t know… kinda nervous?”

“Hey,” Lukas flicked a crumb at the other prince, hitting his calf mid-stride, “Thought we weren’t gonna talk about it today.”

“We’re all gonna be king soon, how can we not talk about it?”

The three of them sighed.

Alexander continued on the runway, “I mean, do you feel ready? I’m not ready,”

“Nope,” Reginald popped the ‘p’, frowning, “I hate being the oldest.”

“Why do we have to rule a country at 17? That’s stupid,” Lukas complained, searching through the bushes

“‘It’s tradition, Alexander. It’s what you must do. For the good of Grybria’,” Alexander impersonated, “Ugh. My brother just had to abdicate. Can’t I do that? Can I just abdicate?”

“Your dad would never let you,”

“Maybe if I told him I’m gay, he’d disown me?”

“Alexander,” Lukas warned.

“I was joking!” the blonde muttered, “...mostly.”

“Well what about me?” Reginald started, “I couldn’t take care of a bunny. How can I run a country?!”

Lukas felt around the ground until he hit leather and lugged out a guitar case he had stashed for safe keeping.

“Boys, let’s just… drop it today,” he deescalated. Funny, since he was up for coronation first, his rehearsal ceremony in a few hours, but he was determined to squeeze in some quality time with his friends before he couldn’t anymore, “Can we just chill? For a little while?” While they still could...

The other princes nodded.

“Okay. Now…” he took out his guitar and slung the strap over his shoulder, “Wanna jam?”

That brought a smile onto all of their faces.

They gathered in a circle, Lukas signaling at Alexander, who immediately began clapping a beat:

“1, 2, 3, 4-”

Tagging: @blush-and-books @lydias--stiles @echocharm17618 @rainfallingfromthesky @pink-flame @ourstarscollided @caffeine-catastrophe @nottheleastbrave @brightattheorpheum @thedeathdeelers @tmp-jatp   @lenacarstairspotterstewart @harpersdagger @annabelle-grisha-goddess @shelvesofgold @lwhoscribbles @futurearchaeologyprof @iridescentkippen @heademptynothoughts @crummycassidy @smolfangirl @a-dream-so-alive @that-one-utensil @lucid-h @homeinabookshelf @beaniesflannelandfannypacks @ilovefandoms @it-tastes-like-lizard

[ignorantarmiesclashbynight]

Whumptober 2021 Day 28: it's not just in your head | nightmares | panic

By the end, the shadows even find him in his sleep.

He dreams of Colter in the snow, lost in the blizzard. John, calling out for help; the snarling of wolves. He never gets there in time and the blood freezes in the ice—a permanent reminder of his failure. Sometimes he walks through the snowstorm forever; no direction, no time, no day, no night. Only the endless white, ploughing footsteps through the drift, searching for his lost brother, and he wakes shivering.

* * *

He dreams of a grand house, consumed by fire. A woman made of flame, pointing at him, blaming him. He’s looking for something. Someone. But the house is already a charred skeleton, burned down to its bones, and the smell sticks to him like tar, filling his nostrils with the stench of charred flesh. He hears the crying of a child and he remembers too late what he was looking for, digging through the still-hot ashes with his bare hands, and he wakes sobbing.

* * *

He dreams of drowning, pulled under black water by a sinking ship. A lifeboat, rising and falling on the horizon; his people, rowing away without looking back. He goes under again, claws his way back to the surface, but there’s not enough time to shout, barely enough to drag in half a breath before he’s dragged down once more, the current bludgeoning at him until eventually he stops fighting, his lungs about to burst, and he wakes gasping.

* * *

He dreams of a cave, tunnelling deep down into the earth, its rough stone walls dripping with blood. Screams echo up out of the darkness. Eyes stare out of the gloom. Decaying hands clutch at him, raking their fingernails into his skin. Rasping voices laugh at him as he runs ever deeper, knowing he ought to be going the other way, back up to the light, but he can’t seem to turn around. The blackness consumes him, burying him in dirt and rock and bones, and he wakes aching.

* * *

He dreams of those who’re gone; days past and years back. His mother, his first memories of kindness torn away before he was old enough to remember them. His father, dangling from a rope, eyes bulging, still glaring at him even in death. Bessie and Annabelle, and the grief that followed—watching his new family fall apart around him. Eliza and Isaac, and two graves he never should’ve had to dig. All the rest since. Mac and Davey and Jenny. Sean and Hosea and Lenny. That poor girl on the ferry where it all went wrong. In his dreams they follow him, cling to him, asking why he let it happen, asking why he didn’t stop it, why he couldn’t save them, and he wakes with empty apologies in his mouth.

* * *

He dreams of those not yet gone, but watches them die all the same. John, hanging from the walls of Sisika. Abigail, tied to a chair, Milton circling like a shark. Sadie, being dragged away by O’Driscolls. A Gatling gun, tearing through camp with a noise like the sky falling, bodies dropping all around him. And all he can do is stand and scream, wishing they’d taken him instead, and he wakes begging.

* * *

He dreams of his own death. Over and over. Hanging like his father. Shot and bleeding out. Tortured by Pinkertons until he does what they ask. And then it’s Dutch doing the hurting—the betrayal on his face far worse than the pain—calling him a rat. Micah, smiling as he drives a knife into his back, and he wakes clawing at the air.

* * *

He dreams of a stag and a wolf. A sunset and a mountain. A cliffside covered in red flowers.

He dreams of riding away and never looking back.

He dreams and he dreams but he never seems to get any rest.

And he wakes coughing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I don’t know how else to finish up whumptober except with a bunch of super sad stories so here we go...

Also on AO3! Requests more than welcome (prompt list is here)

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The ropes are tied on both ends after their last meeting and the infamous wild girl keeps tugging at them, until a sliver of vulnerability seeps through and Alfie sees her for who she is.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Am I in trouble?”

“You play so hard to get...Will I ever catch you?”

The marble walls are cold. It’s sometime in december, hard to tell since the days seem to be morphing into each other as the clock ticks. The sun no longer shows, and it’s faint when it does. One sound from the large clock on the hallway and it’s the end of the week, the passing of time seems to escape the months.

Although no one seems to care as they dance through the night.

It was put somewhere in the calendar by Annabelle, and you vaguely remember the fading lines of your uncle’s smile as he told you he’d be getting married soon. It was hard to care, even harder to remember why you were standing there, in the corner of the lavish room while the music boomed through the fancy building.

There were many things to be said, but you’d keep them to yourself for the day.

The bride was a sham, you could tell from the way she didn’t even smile at your uncle. He was somewhat of a rich guy, although you hadn’t experienced any of the said money since he happened to be greedy guy who just wouldn’t share what he reclaimed to be his.

Much to your luck, you had no interest in his money or any of his property but the new bride couldn’t disagree more. Annabelle had sent you off an hour before the event started and it was school policy to get in before midnight but you never did, even when it wasn’t someone’s wedding and just a tuesday night.

She’s not supposed to tell anyone of your whereabouts but a little green bill and Annabelle turns into a song bird.

You smile at the guests as they dance, hand in hand as the slow song fills the air. It’s rather strange seeing you like this, some think. You’re usually the source of trouble, the one causing the mess and not the quiet girl you’ve been since the wedding started but you figure you owe your uncle that even though he had forcefully sent you to a boarding school and didn’t send you anything on your birthday.

You don’t hold grudges, you say to yourself.

With the strange passage of time, sometimes you can’t quite pinpoint where the reality starts and the dreams end but you know he’s real. The way he tries to play your little game, where most of the men either failed or simply gave up. He’s been holding up his end, you conclude, after almost a month of spontaneous visits.

Alfie, is his name.

You don’t call him that, although he insists but you enjoy the way his scruff covered face reddens way too much to do things the proper way. You hadn’t even kissed him yet, but he still came back for more. He was easily riled up by you and hated Annabelle and sou you figured, you wouldn’t drop this one.

It was easy, to get tired of men and it happened almost naturally for you. The first stages were far more than exciting, when you didn’t know anything about the bloke’s life or boring job he had but soon after that, reality would set in and you’d realise that the bloke you had your hands on was just another boring rich boy who was too good for you in his family’s eyes.

But not him, Alfie had proved to be quite the opposite.

There was blood on his hands and a weight that came with it, it was evident in the way he walked and spoke, he didn’t just do things out of spite like the young lads did. You didn’t even know how old he was, only that he was close to being twice your age as Ollie had told you one time without giving away too much but that didn’t bother you.

It bothered Annabelle, though. You could see it in her eyes.

Being the infamous wild lady had its perks and one of them was the way you had access to direct information on the town’s social climate. Sometimes it was a bitter, snotty girl telling you her best friend had gotten married to a bloke from Birmingham or the drunk lad you were dancing in the club speaking to you about the new club that was opening soon. It came in many forms but the most important part was that it was the voice of the youth around.

Apparently, Alfie’s gangster nature and piercing eyes had made him an attraction of sorts for the younger ladies. No one would say it except some of the girls you knew who worked in the brothel he had visited many times before. There was a line, the girl had told you under the dim light of the entrance, a line made of posh girls who wanted Alfie to fuck their brains out for the thrill of it.

It had almost made you smile.

You didn’t look down on any of the girls for the thoughts they were having, if anything you agreed but Alfie wasn’t just a bloke who lived around the corner from their posh apartments, you knew. He was in a dangerous line of business and very capable of snapping your neck in two if he wished to. It was thrilling, you would give the girls that, but he would need a lot of warming up to be the consistency you wanted him to be.

And that had been in the works, for the past month.

He was the one who came around, the one to seek you out and that put you in the higher hand when compared to him. You could say no, you wouldn’t but you could and Annabelle would just have to shoo him away with a regretful smile. There were a dozen girls worth half the trouble you were causing him but he liked the trouble, he had signed up for it when he brought you home the first night.

He and you had talked, answering all the questions this time but with a couple white lies here and there. You’d told him about your greedy uncle and about the paintings and he told you about his past and how he came to be the person he was. You’d lied to him when he’d asked you about the number of the guys you’d fucked and you’d amplified and multiplied it. He had just nodded and raised his eyebrows.

He’d lied,too, but you’d caught it.

He lied about before the war and the lost love he had but you saw it in his eyes. He lied about his family when you asked and also about what he did, at least some of the lines of business he was involved in but you didn’t push. He hadn’t shot you after pressing all his buttons and you didn’t have a death wish before solving the puzzle of Alfie Solomons.

You soon find yourself leaning against the exterior wall of the building, on the outside towards the street where there’s no one but you and a couple people walking by. The air is cold but you don’t seem to mind it after borrowing the bride’s fur coat, which she had no idea about as she danced inside. You’d return it when you went back inside but it felt warm against your skin and the material was pleasant.

Alfie thought you looked fucking beautiful.

Annabelle wasn’t supposed to give information about your whereabouts but all he had to was to shoot her an annoyed look and she would tremble under his piercing gaze. Her uncle’s wedding, she had said, she wasn’t so happy about it since the bride is just a little older than she is but she’s gone. Alfie had listened and furrowed his eyebrows before shouting at Ollie to drive to where the wedding was taking place.

And there you were, with rosy cheeks leaning against the cold wall of the building.

He didn’t know why he was there, he didn’t ask himself since he was afraid of the answer. He had felt something similar before, not quite the same but he recalled the pretty lass who’d managed to make his chest feel too tight for his heart.

He wouldn’t say it though, not to himself or anyone else.

He cleared his throat while you kept staring at your shoes. They were new, bought just of the occasion but they were damn uncomfortable so before he could utter a word. he saw you lean down and take the kitten heels off of your feet and step on the cold pavement of the ground. He chuckled in surprise which made you look up, he wondered where all of the hours of etiquette class had gone but he wasn’t complaining.

“Mr. Solomons.” you spoke in a breathy voice, a little less chirpy or seductive compared to usual and he saw it in your eyes too but you were far too quick to cover it all up before he could comment on it.

“‘ello, lass.” he spoke in his usual gruff voice and watched your pretty features scrunch up and stare up at him.

“It seems as though you always end up finding me.” you spoke, genuine suspicion in your voice and you continued with a smirk Alfie knew well. He was glad he had told Ollie to stay put in the car and was the only one to see you beaming up at him. “Are you having me followed?” you chuckled at the end of your sentence and he smiled at your words. 

He wasn’t, not intentionally anyway.

If he had been, you would’ve noticed. You snuck out nearly every night from the school and almost never got caught. Annabelle would hear things the next day if she was lucky but you knew the way the city worked, if someone had followed you, you would know.

“What brings you to this hellhole, then?” you spat out and saw the discontent in his eyes before he covered it up. 

He was almost as good as you in this game, almost.

“Just lookin’ to see the lass.” he spoke, eyes boring into yours as you stood in front of him, looking up since the man was twice as tall as you.

“Hm.” you nodded, looking at the familiar black car and then him. You knew Ollie was in there watching you and Alfie never just came to see you and leave, he was going to take you someplace like he usually did.

“’t’s not fuckin’ fun in there?” he spoke, signalling the large doors that opened up to where the wedding was taking place.

You smiled first and chuckled while you did so, it wasn’t the usual one but he’d take it. Looking at him through fluttered eyelashes, you spoke in a sweet voice that made him stay up all night dreaming of you.

“It’s not my cup of tea, Mr. Solomons.” you said in a breathy voice and he watched, just looked at you for a while.

“Ya’ wanna get out of ‘ere, lass?” he said, meeting your doubtful eyes which were often filled with nothing but trouble and he found that somewhere in there too but it wasn’t as obvious as the last time he’d seen you.

“Am I in trouble?” you spoke through a wicked smile, one Alfie knew well. Maybe too well for his own good, he thought.

“No, lass..” he spoke with a low grin, you could see the amusement seeping off of him. “You, yeah, are the fuckin’ trouble if ya’ ask me.” he spoke through his teeth and earned a wide smirk from you.

You were that, and both of you knew it.

“Well..”you spoke, clutching tighter to your new aunt’s coat as Alfie watched you through glassy eyes. “It’s a shame I didn’t ask.” you said with a lighter tone and it caused Alfie to chuckle loudly, which only made the corners of your lips twitch up in reaction.

You played the game too well.

“Where are you planning on taking me this time?” you spoke in a sweet voice, he saw you regain your usual attitude slowly after the laugh and he was glad it was coming back. He needed it to come back, even if he wasn’t able to admit that to himself yet.

He just shot you a smile and walked away after that, towards the big car where Ollie had been waiting for a while. You followed him, no questions asked or no feeling of fear in the pit of your stomach.

It took two to play this game and you had the upper hand, you always did.

----

It came as a shock to him.

The yards of soil coated in grass were now getting ready for the sunset. There were a few animals here and there, a horse and a group of cows that were nowhere near where Alfie was standing or the sign he’d told you to shoot. Ollie was left in the factory, Alfie had driven you all the way to the suburbs on his own and you felt like that wasn’t very boss-like but it didn’t matter.

“I know how to shoot.”

Your words echoed in his mind for a second.

You were half his age and size, he was sure you had been home-schooled or whatever the rich kids did. The posh people Alfie knew didn’t let their daughters within a one-mile radius of someone who had the possibility of carrying a gun let alone actually teach them.

“You fuckin’ what?” he spoke, a look of surprise coming over him which only made you smile at his expression in return.

Of course you knew how to shoot.

You were an expert at sneaking out and making trouble but that came at a price. Men liked to look at how pretty you looked while you danced but some wanted to touch as well, that’s when self defence became a priority. You could punch them or kick them in the nuts but some were strong so a pistol worked, or the small knife attached to your bra but you wouldn’t tell Alfie that.

“You really need to get your ears checked.” you said, visibly annoyed since he had done the same exact thing the last time he’d seen you. He scoffed at first and then walked over to you, slowly and you just watched.

You didn’t know who was the lion and who was the prey anymore. Not when you had a knife strapped to your bra and a gun in your hands.

“Where the fuck did ya’ learn how to shoot? A lass your age?” he said and you realised he was talking to himself and not you. You let him mumble away for a few seconds before stepping up and speaking. 

“Well, It seems as though I’m old enough for you to come looking for me every damn week so I assume I’m not too young....” you said, still pissed at his comments about your age. He had no problem fucking you with his eyes but brought it up when it had to do with a gun. “...and I learned on my own. For protection.”

He looked at you, from head to toe and nodded as his hands ran through his beard. The sun was slowly setting and the speckles of light caught his skin and beard, illuminating him in a way that you’d only seen in renaissance paintings before. You gulped but composed yourself quickly, you could show no weakness.

“I ain’t comin’ to look for ya’ every fuckin’ week.” he said and you smiled. Out of all the things you had said, he got stuck on the one thing.

“Why is Annabelle giving me so much trouble about your unannounced visits then?” you said, in a heartbeat and he smiled at you, just smiled for a solid second before turning away. You were quick to answer your question since you had found out that Alfie wasn’t a fan of doing that.

“Either she wants to fuck you or is genuinely annoyed.” you spat and he turned in one swift motion, facing you again with the ghost of a smirk you’d seen earlier.

“Eh?” he made a sound of encouragement mixed with confusion. Alfie was used to you being so forward but every now and then, it still caught him off guard.

You nodded as a way to confirm the first assumption and spoke again, you were walking next to him as he slowly moved towards the target he had told you to shoot. You looked too comfortable with a gun in your hand, he thought as he watched your lips move.

“You tell me which one, although I have a pretty good idea.” you spoke through a fit of giggles and he watched your features change under the afternoon light.

He was utterly fucked.

“Ain’t she a fuckin’ old maid?” he voiced his opinion and earned a sweet smile from you. You nodded again, a bit quicker this time and fought a fiddle of giggles before speaking.

“She is.” you licked your lips and spoke as Alfie stared at you under the setting sun. 

Your hair was all over the place, cheeks red due to the cold weather and he wanted to kiss your nose, warm you up but the game was still on so he composed himself, settled for the inappropriate dreams he’d been having for the past month since you’d been in his house.

“She’s about your age, I think.” you spat out without looking at him and he made a hurt noise, his way of saying that he was offended but the shocked face turned into a small smirk as he spoke, hand tugging at his beard like it usually was and for a moment, your eyes got stuck on his golden rings.

“I ain’t as old as you fuckin’ think I am, lass.” he spoke and you smiled at him. You knew he was significantly older but neither of you had voiced it before but you didn’t think it mattered. He could be as old as he wanted but he’d still be the only person who was able to keep up with you.

“And I’m not as young as you think I am, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke under your breath, eyes at your shoes as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He wasn’t dangerously close but the warmth of his skin spread through yours.

He waited for a moment, looked at the delicate features of your face as you offered him a gentle smile, contrasting the cold air around. He knew you were older, you just looked younger and it didn’t bother him. If anything, he figured it was perfect since he appeared to be older than he was. 

The game was fun, he would admit. Like a breath of fresh air in the dull life he seemed to lead, although you would speak to differ since every act that came from the man was everything but boring. You licked your lips, ready to answer any question thrown your way with a bit of sass you carried around with you. He couldn’t figure you out for the life of him, it drove him mad to think about you yet it seemed to be all he was capable of doing those days.

“Ya’ play so hard to get...Will I ever catch ya’?” he sounded confused, convinced that it would never happen somehow but you would slow down at some point, he just didn’t know it.

Men liked chasing girls dressed in pretty lace and with bright, beaming eyes. You were that girl, had been chased by many but you’d never found it in yourself to stop and look back, none were interesting enough to do that. They wanted superficial things, a fuck or a dance or maybe the thrill of being with a girl every cockney banged on about but there was nothing real in those kind of relationships.

But you figured, since Alfie was proving to be nothing like those men, you’d slow down just a little.

Not now though, but sometime in the future.

“Maybe If your sciatica gets better, you might have a decent shot at it, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke through a beaming smile and the words and the redness on your nose caused Alfie to laugh. He still wanted to kiss you, he realised.

“‘s Alfie, luv.” he reminded for the countless time, but he knew it was useless. He liked the way you said it anyway, much better than anyone he’s heard.

“Sure it is.” you spoke through a half-hearted giggle and started walking towards the car.

He had brought you here to teach you how to shoot but you knew how to do it already, he felt an ease in his gut knowing that. Men around London were dangerous and although he’d speak to differ that you were more lethal than any man he’d seen, a woman could never be too careful. He knew.

He watched you get in the car without the usual help from Ollie, realised something along the way. If he were honest with himself, he had realised it some time ago but he wouldn’t admit to it, took all the fun in his eyes. He smiled at you before looking at the sunset one last time.

The thrill of this would pass but Alfie was sure it would leave a sweet aftertaste. The days were short now, the time washed over the clock like an unexpected tidal wave from a once calm sea. There was a siren calling out to him, enticing him with her words each time she spoke but the siren had no intention of killing him in a cruel way. She was too soft for that, although many saw her as a killer trap.

The siren was you, and you were so beautiful under the sunset as you waved at him from the car.

I might die, he thought. I might die and it would be because of her, he said to himself as he looked at your smile. He soon concluded that he didn’t mind that at all. He would prefer it to the slow bleeding of a knife wound or the quick and efficient house of a bullet in between his blue orbs.

That was how it started, with the handsome sailor ignoring all the warnings.

The amateurs didn’t see the warnings before the siren engulfed them, ate them whole and left no trace. The beginners would be fooled quickly but no, Alfie wasn’t new to this. He knew that the captains went to the sirens on purpose, not because they were fooled but because the siren was a new source of hope in a different world.

And the times had changed.

“Silly girl.” Alfie mumbled to himself after getting into the car. You were sitting quietly next to him, in an unusual manner where you were almost sulking.

You realised, once you sat in the car and gazed out the window to see the now fading orange sky, that until that very point it had always been Alfie who would seek you out. He’d mostly paid you unannounced visits at the school but sometimes, he’d catch you during your weekly shopping trips or even the library. Never during the nights when you’d sneak out to go dancing in the pubs.

Although he knew all about it, you knew the faces of his men by this point. The man who’d follow you in and out of school.

So you decided that it was time for a simple yet revolting change. You’d invite him out this time, in a less more proper manner than he had.

You had it all planned out and he had no idea. You let him drive you to the school, commenting on how boring his old man stories were and he just chuckled and mumbled something under his breath. You let him drop you off, a gentle kiss on your cheek and the cold feel of his rings against your hand as he whispered in your ear, “I’ll see you soon, luv.”. You waved at him as he left.

He had no idea of the hurricane that was about to hit him.

So you got ready, lace all over your body in a sheer dress. You wore your favourite kitten heels and just a simple lip just how Alfie liked it. It was time for a little play, something to tip his interest further. It wasn’t like you’d lost it but men were very easily distracted. So you’d created a masterplan to remedy the problem you thought you had. Your hair was let down, tickling your shoulders as you swayed your hips in the fur coat that had belonged to the new bride in your family but the wedding was long forgotten. 

You wouldn’t fuck him, you didn’t think.

Or maybe you would, you said to yourself as you approached his large house. The nerves were near but so was he and you had no intentions of fucking this up. He was an interesting one, one worth keeping and you would make sure of it.

Nine pm. The air cold around your shoulders as a smile graced your lips. You were supposed to be in the tea room, blocks away from where you were standing in front of a stranger’s door.

Well, not so much of a stranger anymore.

One knock, and then another.

His voice filled the other side of the door, a smile graced your lips and you braced yourself for the night, for the look of surprise that would surely be cast on his handsome features.

One inhale, one genuine smile and the swift motion of the door opening.

There he was, your handsome stranger.

And you’d kiss him that night.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner​ @r-rose08​ @innerpaperexpertcloud 

a/n: They will kiss soon and do more stuff :) so stay tuned pls and lemme know if you liked the chapter!! This somehow ended up being a slow-burn type of thing but oh well :)

and happy new year, dear ones! I hope it’s a good year for all!

[salt-warrior]

Alright folks... it’s time for me to forever shame myself, because I’m publishing a crack fic. I’ve NEVER done that before because I usually just write crack fics for my own enjoyment, but this crack fic was inspired by a post that @impossiblesuitcase wrote. So thank you for that, lovely. Also thank you @cosmicnovaflare for pushing me to write this, I love you always. 

This crack fic is a crossover of three of my own fanfictions. So if you have not red Unsinkable, The Echo of Silence, and The Time it Takes to Fall, then literally none of this will make any sense. All three play vital roles in this story. Seriously, you’ll be in the dark so don’t read it unless you’ve read all of them.

Again, this is a crack fic so it’s even more wildly unrealistic than my other writing. And I am also going to pretend I never wrote it because I am ashamed. The original endings are the real endings in my mind. You have been warned. 

So without further ado, I present you with 6,249 words of crack fic that I wrote in one sitting yesterday instead of doing my homework. Enjoy.

Tags: @shellyseashell @cindersassasin @gingerale2017  @healing-winston-pratt @winterrhayle @just2bubbly @f-r-o-p @idkchatie (I’m only tagging the people who were really angry with Unsinkable because I think a lot of you have read all three of those stories? If not, then sorry for the tag, I love you guys<333)

Until Forever Ends

Before Kai’s father had passed away, he’d told Kai to pursue what he needed to find peace. He’d probably meant something along the lines of falling in love with another girl or switching up his career. Surely he hadn’t intended for his son to look into the mythical sisters of life and death.

It had been a long day, with him first going to his father's funeral, then to see Cinder's gravesite one last time. He hated leaving her there, but he had hope that when they would meet again, he would speak to her and not a marble headstone.

He'd mailed notes to all his friends that morning. To Scarlet and Wolf, Jacin and Winter, and Cress. He'd detailed an adventure across the world that he would be having. After all, his father had left everything he owned to Kai, and he wanted to make the most of living. Of course it was all a fantastic lie; he was traveling the world, and perhaps it would be an adventure, but it was more of a journey than anything else. And he didn't plan on ever coming home.

Because even if he found what he was looking for, he couldn't return to his friends. They wouldn't understand—they couldn't understand.

So he would travel to the ends of the Earth, and he would find her.

***

Kai sat on a sandy beach, the waves lapping up over his legs, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt. The sky was gray and the air cold, but he could not feel its bitter sting. His clothes were torn ragged and his hair grown long and shaggy. If one were to gaze upon him, they would believe him to be insane. But he did not care. He was on the hunt for the sisters of life and death— and he was close.

It had been months since his father’s funeral; months since he’d left Cinder’s grave back in Arizona. He’d flown across the sea and traveled to lands he hadn’t even known existed. He’d slept under the stars and beneath the blanket of darkness. He’d listened to stories of people who lived their lives over and over in search of love and those who had been played for fools. He’d seen much and learned even more.

He’d heard tales of the two sisters: one life and the other death. They began as whispered fairy tales, told to him by drunkards and fools. But as he investigated further, he discovered that the sisters were real.

They existed throughout all the lands of the world, always under different names. In some lands they were simply Life and Death, while in others they were Angel and Demon or creatures of the Earth. He simply knew them as Light and Darkness. He only hoped to call out to the sister of light and life, not the one of darkness and death.

Throughout all his travels, no one had ever been able to tell him how to call each sister, only that they came to the cries of the brokenhearted who claimed, and fervently meant, that they would do anything to bring their love back to them. It had to be a plea for love that consumed one’s entire soul— but his soul was filled with Cinder, and Cinder alone.

He watched the black sea as it foamed about him. There had been conflicting views as to where one had to be when summoning either of the sisters. Some claimed that the person had to be in the place of their lover’s birth, while others explained that you had to be in the exact place of their final breath. One woman had even claimed that without the body of his dead lover still warm in his arms, he could not bring her back. Kai had shivered at that proclamation, with Cinder dead and in the ground for well over a year.

But there had been one account that had remained etched in his mind. A scholar somewhere in Europe, who had quoted the lines of Edgar Allen Poe’s last poem to Kai.

“And neither the angels of Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“The sea would be the best place to call one of the sisters to you,” the scholar had said. “For that is their home. With the Angel above and the Demon below, they will hear your cries.”

So Kai went to the sea.

Slowly the gray sky melded into black, allowing for the stars to dot the emptiness and the moon to shine across the waves with hints of white light. He knew he should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but there was nothing left in him but the aching wish to be with Cinder once more.

“Cinder,” he whispered her name through chapped lips. “My love. I would do anything–” his voice broke off with a sob, tears falling like the spray of the ocean. “Anything,” he reiterated. “To be with you again.”

The waves of the sea began to swirl about him, pulling him off the beach and out into the waves. He screamed as his head dipped below the water, but a bubble of air had formed around him, preventing any wetness from glancing across his skin.

Everything seemed to grow lighter, despite the darkness he had remembered seeing. The waves danced about him in hues of deep purple and foam green. Fish swam around him in a flurry, and even the stars in the sky appeared to stand in closer proximity to himself.

Then everything slowed, and Kai found himself thrown back upon the sandy beach shore. He laid upon the ground, staring at the moon in the sky, which seemed within arms reach. He lifted a hand as if to touch it.

A hand reached out to brush against his fingers, and Kai pulled back. Silhouetted against the moon was the most glorious woman that Kai had ever beheld. There was no beauty comparable to her own. Her skin was dark and lined with gold tracings that resembled the very waves of the sea. She wore a dress of crimson that covered her figure elegantly, and jewelry of gold lined her ears and neck.

“Oh my stars,” she gasped, jumping back from him as she gazed upon his face. “It’s you.”

Kai was too shocked to speak. He dropped his hand back upon his chest as he looked up at her. His eyes mapped the kindness in her face and the confusion in her eyes as she gawked at him. All that he could register was that he was in the presence of an otherworldly being.

At long last her words caught up to his thoughts and puzzlement of his own registered in his mind. “Do we know one another?”

The woman’s face softened, and she shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we do not. Or at the very least, not in this lifetime; not in this world. I am Light, the sister of life and all things which make life beautiful. For what reason do you weep so?”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He pushed himself up so he rested upon his knees before her, looking up at her glorious face. She glowed, as if she were the moon itself, rather than just having it shine behind her.

“My wife,” Kai explained, “Cinder, died. She is gone from this life, and I wish to be with her again. I… I just wish to be with her again.”

“You are a fool to call down a deity on purpose. You could have just as easily received my sister,” Light exclaimed, though there was a certain sorrow hidden behind her gaze. “But you have been shadowed with luck upon this day. I can sense your pain, and the both of us know that you could call upon me only if your very soul screamed for your love and your love alone.

“I do not often grant requests of such a sort, unlike my sister, who joys in tricking lovers to be her slaves for all eternity. I find that traveling into the next world is the best option— that waiting for Darkness to collect you and transfer your soul fresh and new into another world is the best way to go.” She stopped speaking, then fell to her knees so she and Kai were at eye-level with one another. “But I have met your soul in another world— one where it knew only pain. I have met many creatures of the Earth through my eons of serving them. I aid those in all the universes known alongside my sister. But in all that time I have never stumbled upon the same man twice.

“And it is for that reason that I shall grant you your request,” Light said, touching her fingers against Kai’s cheek. She winced as she wiped the tears from his face.

Kai couldn’t breath, unable to process the words she was speaking to him. He would be with Cinder once more— she would be returned to him. All would be right in the world once more.

“However, I cannot reunite you with the girl you knew in this world,” Light explained with a sigh. “With your love gone for over a year, that piece of her soul has already passed into a new universe— it has been wiped of all her joy and all her sorrows. That piece of Cinder now abides somewhere else.”

Within an instant, Kai felt his world crumble into a thousand pieces. He hated himself for believing that it had been possible— that he could be with Cinder once more. But he was too late; he had waited too long. Now he would have to live the rest of this wretched life without her and hope to meet her in another universe.

“Do not fret, dear child,” Light chided, smoothing the hair back from his face in a motherly fashion. “For there is hope yet.”

“There is?” Kai asked.

“Yes; for while that fraction of Cinder that you know has vanished into another world, her soul still resides in other universes. You see, the soul lives thousands of lives, all in different realities. For it is not one solid being, it is an entity that never ceases to exist, and can exist in more than one place at once. The only problem being that the more time it spends in one universe, the more corrupt and destroyed it becomes. If your soul could recall other realities, you would understand of what I speak, for this was the exact circumstance under which we last met.”

Kai nodded along, pretending that he had even the faintest idea of what she was speaking of. She let out a great exasperated sigh, shaking her head. Light dropped her hand from his face and got to her feet.

“Your mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of eternity. For while you shall live forever, you will not know it. There is a block upon your soul to cause you to forget; that is why it pains man so much to try and imagine living for forever.

“But that does not matter now. For when you are dead, your soul shall endure cleansing once more and be whisked off into another life in which you shall live and love and die again. Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Kai stared blankly, completely at a loss for words.

Light looked down upon him, stars shining in her eyes. “Dear child, there is another world in which your dearest love lived with you, but you were taken from her. Her soul aches for you in the way that yours aches for hers. I have never before transferred a soul to a different reality without death occurring first, but I have also never stumbled upon the same soul twice. Yours is a soul filled with more love and loss than any other I have come to know. So upon this night I shall reunite you with your love.”

The ocean began to swirl about them once more, pulling Kai into its great depths, but this time he did not scream. Light began to rise into the air, her arms spread wide as if to cup the moon above her hair. The wind howled, twisting the coils of her black hair about her face and the crimson swathes of fabric about her body. She was a glorious arrayment of red and gold and shining light.

Above the wind, Light shouted in a tongue lost to mortals, for it was the language of the first of mankind, and it had been forgotten. The sea continued to spin around Kai, fish of every color swimming about him. He was in the eye of an oceanic tornado.

Still Light rose higher into the air, pulling her crashing waves about her as she ascended toward the moon. All that Kai could see were the many sea creatures and the luminous goddess above him, growing brighter every moment.

A high-pitched scream filled his ears, though it was not a human one. It blocked out the sound of the waves and the echoing chants of Light above him. It filled his very being as the blinding light penetrated his soul.

And just as he wondered if this would be the destruction of his very soul, everything went black.

***

Kai awoke to the roar of the ocean, and felt an instant rush of cold tear through his body. His mind flashed with the memories of calling Light to him and begging her to send him to a life in which Cinder lived. He could recall the overwhelming light that had surrounded him, and the screaming that blocked out all other thoughts as the goddess rose above him in a tornado of the sea.

He pushed himself up and stared out at the waves. It was bright— the middle of the day by his reckoning— and warm. People stood in the ocean waves wearing an odd assortment of clothes rather than bathing suits. Or at least, they weren’t the kind of bathing suits that Kai knew.

A few people stared at him with quizzical looks, though Kai couldn’t deny that he probably deserved them. He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying upon the beach, though he was almost certain it had been some time.

“Are you alright, mister?” A kid asked, looking down at Kai. His cheeks were pink from sunburn, though it wasn’t particularly hot out.

“Yeah,” Kai said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. The boy watched him warily. “Hey kid, what day is it?”

“December second,” the boy replied.

“And,” Kai scratched behind his ear. "What’s the year?”

The boy gawked at him for a moment, as if he thought Kai were either very dumb or very strange. “1912,” he said the year slowly, his slightly syrupy accent not helping. “What year did you reckon it to be?”

“I don’t know.” Kai glanced around, trying to gauge the situation. He didn’t know much about 1912. Actually, he knew nothing about it other than it was a couple years before World War I broke out. “Hey kid, where are we?”

The child, who couldn’t have been older than ten gave him an incredulous stare, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for his mother. “Savannah, sir,” he said.

“Savannah…”

“Georgia, sir,” the kid said, taking a couple steps back from Kai.

“Okay.” Kai sucked in a breath between his teeth, trying to think of what to do next. He was beginning to panic, for he did not know where to find Cinder in this different time and place. He didn’t even know if her name was Cinder, or even Selene.

“Hey kid?” Kai asked, glancing back down to talk to the boy, but he was running toward a woman glaring daggers at Kai.

Releasing a sigh, Kai walked away from the beach and toward the bustling town. People shot glares at him as he walked down the streets. He wasn’t exactly dressed in the way a normal twenty-first century guy would be, but his jeans and shredded red t-shirt didn’t fit in with the people surrounding him either. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; he had no money and no connections. He was alone in a world that did not belong to him. He couldn’t even be certain that Georgia meant the same thing to these people as it did him.

He was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was all some ridiculous dream, and whether or not he would wake up soon. But he’d thought that a lot over the past year, praying to whatever being that saw over mankind that Cinder wasn’t dead— that he wasn’t alone. That he could be with his wife once more.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it in his reality, nearly reaching her waist, and she wore a pale pink dress that fell well past her knees. But if those details were strange, it was nothing in comparison to the buggy she was pushing in front of her. Kai felt his stomach drop. Was she married to another man? Had she chosen Thorne in this reality instead of him?

Panic gripped him, but before he could run and hide in an alleyway, she glanced up and right at his face. Her eyes widened with shock, then joy, then fear. It was that last look that made his heart ache. He had known Cinder for seven years, but never had she looked at him in such a way.

She sunk to her knees, hands gripping the front of the stroller. “Kai,” she breathed, staring at him now with absolute horror. A tear traced down her cheek and fell to the concrete like a single drop of rain. The pain on her face ripped through his body— he could not stand to watch her suffer so.

He rushed to her side, kneeling down upon the ground beside her, much like Light had done with him the night before, or whenever it was that he had spoken with the goddess. She shook as he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Cinder,” he whispered, voice low. “I know that this is confusing and frightening, but I need to talk with you. I have things to explain.”

“But you’re dead,” she sobbed, turning her face away from his and shutting her eyes tight. “You didn’t make it off the ship alive. They told me you drowned. They told me you were dead. You’re dead. You’re just a figment of my imagination. You can’t be real.”

“Cinder,” Kai hushed, glancing around them. There were people walking past them, staring with curious eyes, but none of them looked nervous for Cinder’s sake. “Cinder, I know that I’m dead here. And I know that my explanation for my being here might not make any sense, but I need to speak with you in private. I can explain everything. I will explain everything. I just need for us to go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

She opened her eyes and the look of absolute shame in her eyes caused his heart to stop. Tears traced down her cheeks in abundance; Kai had never known Cinder to cry in such a way. He worried that she would say no— that she had moved on. That his coming here was a burden upon her. But slowly, she nodded her head.

***

They went to a park just down the street from the beach. It was run-down, with a sad swing set of splintering seats and an abandoned jungle gym. There were no children around, or even any people for that matter, a fact that Kai found almost strange. Though at his inquisitive look, Cinder simply looked away from him.

She led him to a park table that sat somewhat lopsided but was sturdy all the same. She parked the buggy beside her, drawing the cover up so it shielded whatever was inside.

Kai took a seat across from her, bouncing his legs with nerves as he watched her and she looked away. He didn’t understand why she was acting in such a way. He hadn’t had much time to think of how he expected her to react to him appearing to her out of nowhere, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Confusion, yes. But this show of shame was frightening.

“Cinder,” Kai said, tilting his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Cinder, what’s the matter?”

She inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath. Then finally, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy. But despite the remorse coloring her features, she was still his Cinder. She was the girl that he had met at ASU his Junior year in college. She was the girl he had fallen in love with.

“They told me that you died,” she whispered. “I-I–”

“Alright,” Kai cut in, not wanting her to believe that she had insulted his memory in any way. After all, he was dead in this reality. He did not wish for her to believe that anything she had done after his death was wrong. “Sorry, love, I really don’t mean to cause you any harm. I just– I don’t know how to explain what I’m about to tell you.” Somehow his words came out slow and calm, though he felt rather as if he were about to explode. “But I need to tell you something, and I only ask that you listen to the entirety of my story because it might sound somewhat preposterous.”

She nodded her head slowly, tears wiping at her eyes.

Kai told their story, starting from the day he had met her back when she still lived with her step-sister. He explained that he had loved her for five years in silence before finally proclaiming his love for her when she’d explained that she’d never been in love before. He told her how they had gotten married only three months later and lived two years together happily before she’d died in a dreadful car accident.

She listened silently, her tears drying and her eyes hardening and he explained how Thorne had been in love with her and how Kai had gotten into a fight with both him and her father. She never once interrupted him, even as he explained his months of mourning, then his months of searching for a way to conjure one of the sisters of life and death.

It was only when he told her of how Light had appeared to him on the beach and brought him to her world through an oceanic tornado filled with moonlight that she chose to interrupt.

“What?” She hissed, tilting her head at him in that I-don’t-believe-a-single-word-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of a way. If she had been the Cinder of his universe, he knew that she would have asked him how high he was.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Kai said, “but you have to believe me. I know that I don’t belong here— that I’m not meant to live in this world. But before you died you told me that you believe in soulmates. That you thought that every person had another half. You told me when we got together that you could feel that it was right— that it was a whisper in your ear that it was me. And I didn’t believe in soulmates then, but I do now. My soul loves your soul. It has loved it in universes that I don’t even know of, but it adored you all the same. My love for you will never die, no matter how many times I die myself. You are the only one that I will ever love. I cannot help it. My soul cannot think to love another so long as it knows you.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Cinder whispered, her guards coming down. “Even if you were from another universe and you loved me there, I assure you that you would not care for me in this one. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

“Did you kill me?” Kai asked, half curious and half terrified.

Cinder let out a slight, hiccupping laugh. Kai did not feel at ease.

“Cinder,” Kai said, growing serious once more. “I don’t know what happened here— what happened to me— but I know that no matter where we are in the space-time continuum, my soul will always love yours. But if you wish me to leave you, I will.” His mouth went dry with the words, but he meant them. No matter how much it hurt to be parted from her, he would do what she asked of him.

“I’m married,” Cinder blurted out. “After you died, I married Carswell. We were engaged to be married before I eloped with you in London, but when I came back and you were dead, Kingsley thought that it would be the best option. That it would be better for everyone, especially the–”

She buried her face in her hands, but all Kai could think of was that she had married Carswell Thorne— her best friend in his world. The one who had told her that he was in love with her the day that she died. The Carswell that had fought with him at Scarlet and Wolf’s house. His blood boiled with rage, though not with Cinder. She had done what she had to to survive. But Thorne— he would have gladly hit him again.

Kai sucked in a breath and returned his thoughts to the more pressing matters. He had no clue what had happened to him in this life. For all he knew, Carswell Thorne had killed him and forced Cinder to be his bride. Maybe that’s how things had worked back then. Kai was no history major, but he knew that honor was often important to people. Perhaps there had even been a duel.

“What happened to me?” Kai asked, his voice soft. “How did I die in this life?”

Cinder drew her hands down from her face, but kept her eyes averted from him as she said, “You drowned. We were on the Titanic–”

“The Titanic?” Kai interjected, with a gasp. “Like Jack and Rose?”

“I– I don’t know,” Cinder said, furrowing her brow. “But we were sailing home and the ship– the ship sank. You forced me onto a lifeboat even though I said I wanted to stay with you.” She glared at him. “And you went down with the ship. You drowned. Or froze. I do not know, I wasn’t there with you when you passed from this life and onto the next. But you left me.”

“Oh,” Kai whispered. His body deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry,” Cinder sneered, then she shook her head. “No. No, you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. You saved me. And you saved–” She shut her eyes again, then finally reached out toward the buggy and pulled back the top to uncover what lay inside.

Oh course Kai knew what strollers were for, but before that moment he hadn’t really considered that there would be a child inside— at the very least, not her child. His child.

But it was his child. He could tell just by looking at the small infant that he was both Cinder and Kai mixed together. He was still young, but no longer a newborn. Great black tufts of hair rested on his head, and when he opened his eyes— Kai let out a gasp. They were exactly his own.

Cinder rocked the child back and forth, running his finger over its face in a soft, motherly way that made Kai’s very soul ache. They’d had a child together, and Kai hadn’t gotten to be there. It didn’t even particularly matter to him that it wasn’t exactly his child. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for Cinder or their baby. He had abandoned them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kai blurted, devastation seeming to carve his heart out of his body. “Cinder,” Kai sobbed, his eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I– I did abandon you. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Shhh,” Cinder hushed, reaching a hand across the table and laying it over Kai’s. She looked startled. “Kai–” she started, then shook her head. “Kai, I’m mad at you, or him, or– I don’t even know. I’m mad that you saved me when you didn’t save yourself. But I will never be mad that you saved him.”

Kai stared down at her hand on his and saw the tracery of an old burn. It wasn’t as severe as the one she had had in his universe, but it was still there.

Cinder seemed to realize herself and pulled back. She bit her lip and stared down at the baby, brow furrowed.

“I named him after you,” she whispered after a time.

Kai opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“Kaito Rikan Prince,” Cinder continued, not looking at him. “I just– I saw him, and I knew who he was. It didn’t matter that my mother thought that he should have my grandfather’s name or that Kingsley thought he should be named after himself.” She made a face at that. “I knew that he should have the name of his father and his grandfather because they had helped to save his life.

“But now that you’re here, I– I don’t really know if that fits. It would be confusing to have two Kai’s around. But Rikan— I don’t know. I think that perhaps he could be a Rikan.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai breathed, still reeling.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I still don’t understand everything that happened, and in all honesty, I don’t believe you understand it all either.”

“But,” Cinder continued, closing one eye as if she were cringing at herself. “I know that every night for the past eight months I have cried for the pain of missing you so. I know that you have never left my thoughts for even an instant, both in waking and in sleep. I know that my soul loves yours, and while I do not know how long it has cared for you, I know that it always will.

“I know you’re not the you that I knew, but you also are. You’re my Kai, and not just because you look and sound like him. You watch me with that same careful way, and your laugh is the same. And strangest of all, you calm my very soul. It’s as if it knows that it’s you.

“I don’t know if you still want me,” Cinder swallowed, “after all that I’ve done. But please believe me when I say that I do not love Carswell— he is my dear friend and nothing more— and he does not love me in return. Not in this life.” She looked down at her child— their child— and smiled wistfully. “But if you do still wish to be with me, if your heart can still love me in spite of my most grievous offenses, then I will run away with you once more.” She grinned at this, the way one did when a happy memory was stirred in their conscience.

“You… You want me?” Kai asked, breathless.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I will always want you, Kai. No matter the time or place, I will always desire you to be by my side. Always.”

Kai watched her, his eyes searching hers for any falsities; he found none. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

They were staring at one another, eyes that had not gazed upon the other in far too long. They were poisoned souls standing before their long sought-after cure. But now that they had found one another, neither knew what to do.

Hesitantly, Kai stood and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat close enough to touch her, though he did not. He simply stared at her, wordlessly, and she stared back.

“Kai,” Cinder whispered, breathless. She still held the infant in her arms, but he had fallen fast asleep. “Kai, I–”

“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in close to her. They were both inclining toward the other, as if through a magnetic pull. He could feel her breath as their faces rested inches apart. Neither moved in, both too scared of what would happen next.

Then Cinder muttered his name, and Kai closed the gap between them.

She let out a little gasp, as if surprised. But she kissed him back, and it was as if she had never left him— as if the past year had not happened, and they had been together all the while. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing back stray strands of hair.

They broke apart, both flushed but smiling all the same. Kai couldn’t stop staring at her, and reveling in the fact that he had found her. They were together once more. She wanted him.

After a time of shared smiles and conversations about the other’s universe, Cinder asked Kai if he wanted to hold the child, and he accepted happily. And when the baby rested in his arms, tears slipped from his eyes as love overtook his soul. He’d thought about him and Cinder having kids many times during their marriage, though they’d never quite been ready for it. It didn’t even matter that this child belonged to the Kai of this world and not to him— he loved him all the same.

They made plans for what they would do— how they would leave this place and start a new life together. Cinder would pack her belongings and they would take a train to the west. She had all her money from her dowry, and the Prince estates had been left in her name after the deaths of both Prince men.

When they parted, it was a sweet farewell, filled with promises to see the other soon, for they would never abandon the other again.

***

Kai leaned back into the couch, careful not to disturb baby Rikan as he slept. He adored the feeling of holding the small child in his arms and his small stirrings in his sleep. Even the little sounds he made caused for his heart to melt.

“Hey Kai,” Cinder called, walking into the room. He shushed her, nodding his head down toward the sleeping baby, though there wasn’t much worry. Rikan was a heavy sleeper. “Oh, sorry, Ri,” she whispered, tip-toeing over to the pair of them and settling herself down beside Kai.

She grabbed a quilt from beside the couch and laid it over hers and Kai’s laps. Then she settled her head on Kai’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to rest under Kai’s, smiling as she looked down at their baby.

They had left Georgia the same day that they had met one another there, randomly deciding to take the train to Colorado. It had been a somewhat frightening journey, with both of them worrying whether or not someone would come after them, but so far, no one had. They’d been settled into their apartment for over three weeks, happy and together at last.

There were still many things that they both didn’t understand, about one another and the situation. But at the end of the day, they were Cinder and Kai— even if Cinder was still confused about the fact that Kai’s last name was Crown and not Prince, though she did claim it was growing on her.

“I love this,” Cinder said, brushing the black tufts of Rikan’s hair. “It feels right, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“For so long I felt a dreadful emptiness within me, and while there’s still a sadness for what I’ve lost, it's not as great. It’s manageable.”

“I know what you mean.” Kai kissed the top of her head. “We’re different, but the same at the same time. It’s different, but it’s also… just us. We’re still us.”

“We’re still us,” Cinder echoed, letting out a sigh.

There were so many things in Kai’s life that didn’t make sense, but it had been that way even before he’d entered into an alternate universe. He hadn’t understood why Thorne had proclaimed his love for Cinder, or why Chandler Blackburn hadn’t been able to love his daughter. Even his own crushing grief had been confusing at times. And while this world was different in customs and manners and the ways in which society functioned, none of that mattered. For so long as he was with Cinder, all of it was okay.

“I love you,” Kai whispered.

“And I love you,” Cinder said. “And I’ll love you so long as my soul survives, for you’re the only one, Kai. You’re the only one I shall ever truly love.”

“And you are the only one for me as well.” Kai grinned. “And I will love you for forever and ever. No,"  Kai said, his eyes searching hers and seeing only Cinder. "I will love you until forever ends.”

[exodusmc]

“Please stop moving so much..”

Genre: Smut(not too explicit)

Words: 1963

Paring: Sehun  x   Reader

Warning!: Mentions of horror movies and scens(nothing major), public dry humping, very light pet naming and dirty talk, swearing, 

a/n: This one was requested :)

Gif is not mine 

“Come on Y/n!”Chanyeol’s voice was loud over the phone and had always been, ever since you met a few months ago. 

He was in one of your classes and he laughed the loudest out of everyone but he was a good guy, it wasn't hard to get to know him when you had a group project. You two clicked and he was like a brother to you, annoying and nice. Happy virus Chanyeol who moved a little too quick, figurative and literally. You can't count on one hand how many times you seen him trip over air, but he also thought it was a good idea to introduce you to all his friends when you’d known him for about three weeks. 

It had been Sehun first, his roommate, a boy built like a skysharpe with wide shoulders and the deepest eyes you had seen. He was your age and the youngest out of them all. Maybe you had a teeny tiny crush on him, a crush you blamed on his god like features. 

“I promise they want you to come and you have already met everyone, so I don't see why you are hesitant!”Chanyeol and his friends had a movie night every Sunday and he had begged you to come for the last two times, the only times you actually were glad you had work. 

“I know, I know…”biting your lip, you knew you couldn't lie to him or he would send you the biggest puppy eyes and whine for about a month.”Fine, I’ll come..But who is picking the movie?”

“Yes!”you couldn't help at smile at his excitement, a dreading feeling creeping over your spine.”Jongin is...so expect a horror movie, by now!”

Just great..

-

Arriving at his apartment, you wondered if you overdressed or if you stank or if you had something between your teeth or if you should have brought something or if-

The door opened and your thoughts stopped, nothing was in your head, not even a cricket. Just empty..

“Oh, hi..”Sehun stood in the door, his hair pitch black and nothing like the orange you remember seeing on him when you first met him over four months ago.  

Back then had it been short and colored like an orange but now was it long, so long that it fell down to his eyes, and black, so very black.

He moved from the doorway, showing you that you could come in and damn were you feeling your face slowly burning off. You had stared at him for far too long, ogled at the perfection of his face. 

“A-ah, hello to you too..”taking of your shoes you wondered if your horrible gut feeling was telling you to run away or if you were just ill.”I like your hair..”

“Thanks..”Sehun smiled slightly, a twitch on his right upper lip which told you that he was not so comfortable.”I like your li-..hairpin..”

You couldn't marvel too long at what he was about to say since the thundering steppes of Chanyeol shook the ground and you.

“Y/n! You made it!” Sehun was pushed to the side as Chanyeol whisked you away the second your shoes landed on the floor.”See, I told you she would come!”

Waving slightly, you stared back at everyone, mouth feeling way too dry. This friend group had always made you a little confused since it doesn't seem likely that half of them would actually be friends but you guessed that was what made them so close.

“Yes yes, we see now come sit down so we can start the movie!”Jongin grinned to you, like he always did  but you thought you saw something else, a glimpse of mischief that made you sweat. Something was going on,  something everyone else knew.”Hurry hurry.”

The lights were already off but as you glanced around the room did you realize there was a small problem, a tiny problem that weren't actually a problem but still. 

All the seats were occupied, Chanyeol literally squeezed himself between Jongdae and Baekhyun on the sofa, while Kyungsoo and Jongin shared the slightly smaller one. Junmyeon, Minseok and Yixing sat on the floor, while Sehun occupied the last chair.

You had nowhere to sit, all the floor spaces were taken if one wanted to see the Tv. Panic spread through your system and you scolded yourself for not listening to your gut. 

“You can sit with Sehun..”Chanyeol smiled, rolling his eyes after.”He always takes the chair so everyone else has to sit on the floor..”

“I don't!” the younger whined, glancing at you for a second. He doesn't want to share the chair with you...You should have stayed home. 

“Just go sit down Y/n so we can start!”Jongin once again usered everyone to settle down, so with defeat were you making you way to Sehun.

The sofa chair may be big but it wasn't big enough for two people and you contemplated running away when you locked eyes with Sehun. They were so dark but glowed due to the Tv and god had you just stared at his thighs as well. 

You tried smiling slightly, standing still until Chanyeol kicked you from the sofa so you fell right on Sehun. Everyone laughed loudly while you face was bruied against his chest, never feeling the hammering of his heart since yours were flying away. This is going to be a long night.

   The movie was playing and took away most of the tension with sitting on Sehun’s lap but you weren't sure if you liked looking at the screen. 

Jongin’s choice was the silence of the lambs and you hated horror movies, feeling like your soul could jump out your body any second. Everytime Hannibal spoke were you waiting for something to go awfully wrong. And suddenly was he just biting of a cops face, which had you, Chanyeol and Baekhyun screaming. 

You pushed yourself back, face turning until you could press your forehead towards Sehun’s neck, closing your eyes. Your breath fanned across his collarbones and you didn't know it but you had been squirming the whole time on his lap, so Sehun had a hard time concentrating on the film at all. Those fuckers knew exactly what they were doing, making you sit on his lap while they watched horror movies. 

“Are you okay?”Sehun sounded like he was in pain but you were sitting on his things so you guessed he had every right to be. 

“Y-yeah..”glancing up, you managed to get caught in those eyes again.”I’m fine thanks..”

He smiled for a second, gaze finding your lips. They looked too soft and tempting, alluring without you trying. 

   “I need water..”standing up on slightly shaking legs, you stumbled to the kitchen, trying to not think about the movie. 

It left Sehun glaring at each and everyone of his friends, frown pulling down his mouth. They knew about his crush since Chanyeol couldn't keep a secret for his life and still forced him through this situation. 

“Fuckers..”he muttered but his face brightened up when you came back, eyes slightly in a haze. Everything would be fine as long as you wouldn't feel the boner he had.

“Now it’s time for Annabelle!”your eyes widened, hands becoming clammy at the thought. You hated dolls with every fiber in your body and the wanted to watch a movie about them!

Sitting down on Sehun’s lap again, you didn't even want to face the Tv, shamelessly turning your body so you could easily hide. He was warm and the only thing you had in the moment. It’s going to be okay, the sentence repeated in your head over and over again as the film started, adrenaline racing through your system.

You didn't really know Jongin that well but  sure as hell would you beat him for making you watch these movies, softly muttering to yourself a promise of hurt, which was extremely cute to Sehun.

An hour in and you were sitting facing the Tv, eyes locked on the screen as the music became more and more ominous. You leaned forward as Mia’s hand reaches for the window and then you screamed, making Baekhyun and Chanyeol shriek as well. 

Your back pressed against Sehun but this time did he let out a groan and that’s when you felt it, the tent he had in his pants. Gasping, you tensed, forgetting the movie completely and drowning out the chatter of the others.

“P-please stop moving so much..”his whisper was strained in your ear, igniting fire through your body all the way to your core. Sehun’s hands came to rest on your hips, holding you but not sure in what way.”So-sorry..”

He muttered while you felt your cheeks heat up. Your mind wasn't paying attention to the film anymore but to the feeling of his jeans covered things, the fact that you wore thin pants didn't help at all. 

“It’s okay..”your voice was low and innocent, however, your thoughts muddled into differents scenarios which had you screaming in another way.

You actions weren't nice to him but your body had a mind of its own, ignoring all logic and how you were not alone. 

Moving your hips ever so lightly, you turned so you faced him, not looking in his eyes. This was it, you were too horny and didn't want to see Annabelle anymore. Leaning in, you placed your head between his neck and shoulder, legs on either side of his while your knees rested on the chair cushion. 

“I don't mind Sehun..”he swallowed hard, hearing the change in your voice, your lips ghosting over his pulse point.”I...I like it..”

It was like a switch flipped inside his head, fingers digging into your skin while he started to move you across his thighs. Sehun nudged his head so you had to look at his eyes, stare right into cloudy and fiery orbs. A mere inch was left between the two of you and you wanted to kiss him, push your lips against his skin but just sat there, grinding on his lap as your breath came out in pants. 

“Dirty dirty girl..”you tried to ignore the heat his voice spread through you, how the smirk dancing across his mouth made you want to jump him right then and there”Moving your hips so greedy over my thighs..Does it feel nice, hmm?”

Sehun forced you down harder and the denim rubbed against you aching pussy. The tv let out a scream in the exact second you moan softly, covering the sound so no one else heard, no on but Sehun. He was also greedy, greedy for the expression on your face, the pretty gasps from your lips. It was hard containing himself, surrounded by his unsuspecting friends. While you were on the brink of cumming did the end titles start playing and the lights turned on, giving Sehun the chance to see your burning face. Your body was tingling, desperate for release but you couldn't hid there anymore and  you didn't know if you could ask him to go home with you. Another smirk spread all over his face and even if it was late, would he not let you go. 

“I really hate when Jongin gets to choose the movies..”Chanyeol whine as everyone made their way out of the room. He sent a glance over his shoulder, seeing the two of you.”I have somethings I need to do with Kyungsoo so I’ll stay at his place. Night night.”

With that were you and Sehun alone, all alone.

“Now why don't we continue, baby?”

[rwood2477]

- TRUMP DOES THE UNTHINKABLE. ~ by Liz Crokin

As an entertainment journalist, I've had the opportunity to cover Trump for over a decade, and in all my years covering him I've NEVER heard anything negative about the man until he announced he was running for president.

Keep in mind, I got paid a lot of money to dig up dirt on celebrities like Trump for a living so a scandalous story on the famous billionaire could've potentially sold a lot of magazines and would've been a Huge feather in my cap.

Instead, I found that he doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs, he's a hardworking businessman. On top of that, he's one of the most generous celebrities in the world with a heart filled with more gold than his $100 million New York penthouse.

Since the media has failed so miserably at reporting the truth about Trump, I decided to put together some of the acts of kindness he's committed over three decades which has gone virtually unnoticed or fallen on deaf ears.

In 1986, Trump prevented the foreclosure of Annabell Hill's family farm after her husband committed suicide. Trump personally phoned down to the auction to stop the sale of her home and offered the widow money. Trump decided to take action after he saw Hill's pleas for help in news reports.

In 1988, a commercial airline refused to fly Andrew Ten, a sick

Orthodox Jewish child with a rare illness, across the country to get medical care because he had to travel with an elaborate life-support system. His grief-stricken parents contacted Trump for help and he didn't hesitate to send his own plane to take the child from Los Angeles to New York so he could get his treatment.

In 1991, 200 Marines who served in Operation Desert Storm spent time at Camp Lejune in North Carolina before they were scheduled to return home to their families. However, the Marines were told that a mistake had been made and an aircraft would not be able to take them home on their scheduled departure date. When Trump got wind of this, he sent his plane to make two trips from North Carolina to Miami to safely return the Gulf War Marines to their loved ones.

In 1995, a motorist stopped to help Trump after the limo he was traveling in got a flat tire. Trump asked the Good Samaritan how he could repay him for his help. All the man asked for was a bouquet of flowers for his wife. A few weeks later Trump sent the flowers with a note that read: We've paid off your mortgage.

In 1996, Trump filed a lawsuit against the city of Palm Beach ,

Florida, accusing the town of discriminating against his Mar-a-Lago resort club because it allowed Jews and blacks. Abraham Foxman, who as the Anti-Defamation League Director at the time, said Trump put the light on Palm Beach not on the beauty and the glitter, but on its seamier side of discrimination. Foxman also noted that Trump's charge had a trickle-down effect because other clubs followed his lead and

began admitting Jews and blacks.

In 2000, Maury Povich featured a little girl named Megan who struggled with Brittle Bone Disease on his show and Trump happened to be watching. Trump said the little girl's story and positive attitude touched his heart. So he contacted Maury and gifted the little girl and her family with a very generous check.

In 2008, after Jennifer Hudson's family members were tragically murdered in Chicago , Trump put the Oscar-winning actress and her family up at his Windy City hotel for free. In addition to that, Trump's security took extra measures to ensure Hudson and her family members were safe during such a difficult time.

In 2013, New York bus driver Darnell Barton spotted a woman close to the edge of a bridge staring at the traffic below as he drove by. He stopped the bus, got out and put his arm around the woman and saved her life by convincing her to not jump. When Trump heard about this story, he sent the hero bus driver a check simply because he believed his good deed deserved to be rewarded.

In 2014, Trump gave $25,000 to Sgt. Andrew Tamoressi after he spent seven months in a Mexican jail for accidentally crossing the US-Mexico border. President Barack Obama couldn't even be bothered to make one phone call to assist with the United States Marine's release; however, Trump opened his pocketbook to help this serviceman get back on his feet.

In 2016, Melissa Consin Young attended a Trump rally and tearfully thanked Trump for changing her life. She said she proudly stood on stage with Trump as Miss Wisconsin USA in 2005. However, years later she found herself struggling with an incurable illness and during her darkest days, she explained that she received a handwritten letter from Trump telling her she's the bravest woman, I know. She said the opportunities that she got from Trump and his organizations ultimately

provided her Mexican-American son with a full-ride to college.

Lynne Patton, a black female executive for the Trump Organization, released a statement in 2016 defending her boss against accusations that he's a racist and a bigot. She tearfully revealed how she's struggled with substance abuse and addiction for years. Instead of kicking her to the curb, she said the Trump Organization and his entire family loyally stood by her through immensely difficult times.

Donald Trump's kindness knows no bounds and his generosity has and continues to touch the lives of people from every sex, race, and religion. When Trump sees someone in need, he wants to help.

Two decades ago, Oprah asked Trump in a TV interview if he'd ever run for president. He said: "If it got so bad, I would never want to rule it out totally because I really am tired of seeing what's happening with this country.'"

That day has come. Trump sees that America is in need and he wants to help. How unthinkable! On the other hand, have you ever heard of Hillary or Obama ever doing such things with their own resources?

Now that's really unthinkable! Might be worth passing on!!!

Just shows we hired the right guy. If Hollywood , the liberals and the

media ever STOP harassing him, Trump will have time to do many more positive things for our country....the good ole United States of America!!

PS ~ To those who are already Fact Checking, don't bother . . . already did it, and all the stories are TRUE!

The Liberal, progressive, socialists want to destroy this guy. The same mindset crucified Jesus.

[samshogwarts]

The alternative ending for Samantha O'Connell

I'm not exactly sure, but I think @dat-silvers-girl started with a Dead AU once. (correct me if I am wrong) Now here is my alternate ending for Samantha (because I need a little break from the video editing)

It was May 2nd, 1998. The Battle of Hogwarts was already raging and Samantha was fighting Death Eaters along with the Order of the Phoenix. Samantha and her boyfriend Charlie Weasley were under fire and hiding behind a fallen wall.

"It feels like fireworks with all these red and green sparks flying here!" Samantha called to Charlie. He smiled broadly at her: "Yes. You could think the Death Eaters are serious." During a brief cease-fire from the Death Eaters, the two drew their wands and returned the attacks. But even if they could hear some screams, they immediately had to hide behind their cover again: "It doesn't look good at the moment. If they have surrounded us, we have no more escape route."

"What if you use your Animagus form to escape?"

"and leave you here alone? I think you smelled too much dragon fire!"

Both looked at each other. They had to think of something quickly. Charlie looked at the floor for a moment while he thought.

Then something flared in his eyes. Samantha knew that look all too well. He had an idea.

"The plan is insane and you're going to strangle me for it. But I'll have your back!"

"What?"

"I'll jump out of cover and run to the right. You fly behind the Death Eaters on the left and defeat them from behind before they hit me."

"WHAT?!"

"But before we start I have to ask you something. Sam, you know I'm crazy for you. If we survive this, will you marry me?"

At that moment there was a short pause in the fire and Charlie turned: "ok no more time. GO!" Charlie ran out of cover to the right as he had announced, leaving Samantha with her mouth open.

" WHAT!!? "

That was all Samantha could say right now. Completely shocked by this unusual proposal, she turned around, turned into a crow and flew left out of cover, past the Death Eaters and turned back behind them.

After that it was no longer a problem for them to defeat their opponents. They have practiced duels too often in the past few weeks. After Charlie and Samantha could take a deep breath, Samantha looks at Charlie seriously and shouted in a loud voice: "And my answer is yes you idiot!" Charlie immediately understood what it was about and his cheeks are colored red with joy. He picked Samantha up a little and turned her around. With that the two were officially engaged! After a short kiss between the two, reality caught up with them again. Samantha heard some students walking 2 courses further. And with them she heard a familiar step.

It was Talbott who had just found some children. When he saw Samantha and Charlie, he exhaled with relief: "It's good that I find you both. Ela (@annabelle-tanaka-official) and I are currently looking for younger students to bring them to safety in the great hall. Luna (@lunasilvermorny) has set up a small infirmary there with a few others. We need your help"

"well where should we look?" Charlie asked with a fixed look.

"Only the astronomy tower."

"It takes too long on foot. Talbott and I fly to the top and look from top to bottom for the children. Charlie is bringing these to the great hall."

"Sounds like a plan." Talbott agreed with Samantha.

"All right. And take care of yourselves."

"And you on yourself. "

Samantha and Charlie said goodbye with another kiss. At that point, they didn't know how important this kiss was. And so Talbott and Samantha went to the astronomy tower and Charlie went with the children to the great hall.

In the tower, the two looked for more students in their Animagus form. After they were sure that there were no more children there, they flew back to the inner courtyard to go from there to the Great Hall.

The two turned back in the courtyard. Elaiza, Bill, his wife Fleur and Charlie happened to be standing in front of the large gate with their backs to them. Talbott and Samantha briefly exchanged glances and smiled. They both ran to meet their loved ones. Samantha's heart pounded wildly at the thought of telling the other of Charlie's unusual proposal. She raised her arm and called, "Charlie!". Charlie slowly turned around and suddenly everything passed like in slow motion.

At first Charlie looked normal, but suddenly his eyes got bigger and bigger. Maybe it was her own heartbeat, or the joy of seeing her friends, but Samantha didn't notice the black hooded figure behind her and the green lightning bolt that came out of there wand. Samantha still heard Charlie "Sam!" called. But that was already too late.

Like an electric shock, the green light penetrated Samantha's body and suddenly Samantha lost all her strength. She didn't feel anything anymore. Samantha didn't feel her legs give way and she fell forward on the cobblestone. She also didn't feel how the crazy dragon Fan red haired picked her up and hugged her tightly.

Samantha didn't hear anything either. Neither the desperate scream of her best friend, nor the angry roar of Talbott and Bill. Samantha didn't even hear Charlie's desperate pleading.

Samantha couldn't see anything either. Not the tears that ran down the cheeks of her loved ones, nor what happened.

The last thing Samantha said was the name of the man she loved, the last thing she saw were his eyes and the last thing she heard was her own name. And then the world and everything around them went black.

And so Samantha O'Connell died on May 2, 1998 at the Battle of Hogwarts like many others. Killed by an unknown Death Eater. But at the sight of her friends, she died with a smile and a warm feeling in her heart.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

When Halloweentown meets Percy Jackson

I blame the Snowflake promt and @apiratefellinlovewithastar for this.

The graveyard was filled to the brim with crumbling tombstones, spikey iron fences, and dead, yet still poisonous plants. Statues were towering over the beings, statues that were wailing in despair or screaming in fear. Yet, that night the town was full of cheering monsters, instead of screeching ones.

The whole town was a big parade. They were celebrating that once again the human kids and adults were scared to death by jack-o-lanterns with sharp teeth, screaming, monstrous banshees, blood-crazy vampires, and crawling itsy-bitsy spiders with red eyes. For this town of Halloween, the arrival of their King was the height of the celebration, because Nico di Angelo-Scuro, their beloved Ghost King was the scariest, creepiest monster, the deadliest creature of the night who rendered their hard work into shrieking chaos. 

He was everybody’s and everyhead’s most awaited nightmare, and he was Percy Jack-o’s, the town’s ragdoll’s only beating heart. Well, not literally, because he didn’t have one, or maybe he had, just Frankengabe decided to keep it to himself – it wouldn’t have surprised Percy, not even a little bit. But, the Nightmare Angel, the King of Halloweentown was his figurative heart, the only reason Percy was still in one piece and not in one of Frankengabe’s monster mash. 

Annabelle Wildchase, the mayor was giving out the pumpkins for the loudest screamer, the goriest prank, and the scare which resulted in somebody’s death contests, but Percy was not listening, he was occupied with drinking Nico’s imposing sight in. The Ghost King was the tallest of the whole town, he had a pair of pitch-black raven wings and full black, endless-deep eyes.

He was everybody’s most awaited nightmare.

Percy was not designed to be himself, and to do as he wanted. He was designed to be Frankengabe’s, the town’s doctor’s servant. He could only run away from him because he managed to mix sedative into his food, but Percy knew it was only working for a few hours. 

He wanted to take advantage of those hours, so when he saw Nico turn into a shadow, he followed him to the cemetery. He wanted to go to him, he wanted to tell him how much he loves him, how much he wants to be his.

He never did either of it – before he could resolve himself to do it, his creator intervened and jerked him away after he ripped off both of Percy’s legs.

Frankengabe was somebody Percy hated with all of his body. He wasn’t just a monster, he was evil, and without any compassion or happiness. The doctor leaned over Percy, smile so big and so fake Percy wanted to run. But he couldn’t – not without his legs. So he stayed, while Frankengabe approached him with his pointy needle. The new thread he stitched Percy’s legs was bright red and felt scalding hot where it pulled through his skin.

Percy was a relatively new ragdoll, one without any memories, but every time he was stitched together, he remembered more and more the before. And now, he finally figured out why was Frankengabe so familiar, why he felt attracted to Nico di Angelo-Scuro, why he always listened to Annabeth Wildchase.

He remembered when the biggest part of him was a boy from New York, somebody, who was lost, who was scared, who was hailed as a hero, who was constricted into being the perfect soldier of the gods

He remembered when one other part of him was a boy from Surrey, from Scotland, from a magical school, somebody, who was alone, who was manipulated, who was betrayed.

He remembered when the smallest part of him was a boy from Albion, somebody, who had to lie for his whole life, somebody, who died at the hand of one of his trusted friends.

He remembered that each of the previous owners of his body had somebody to love, somebody to admire, somebody to protect… somebody who never considered him to be their one and only.

He remembered who his biggest part, his brain-and-soul was in love with. He remembered those intense black eyes, those playful curls, those beloved manners. The same eyes, the same curls, the same manners he looks at every time he looks at their Ghost King.

He remembered the good, the bad, the in-betweens. He remembered the guilt, the love, the self-hatred.

He remembered.

But he knew, that in this life, nothing would turn out as it did last time(s). Because this time? He would be somebody Nico could depend on, somebody who would finally get his death angel of his nightmares. So, when he heard that the Ghost King disappeared, he went after him. He couldn’t let him get away as he did last time. This time he would be alongside Nico.

He found his Ghost King in an unfamiliar place. A small clearing in the forest, surrounded by strange trees with interesting motifs on them. From before, Percy recognized them as a Christmas tree, an Easter egg, and the others as well. The strangest thing was Nico, with white snowflakes covering his pitch-black raven wings, carrying a bag with full whit mysterious things.

The Ghost King smiled at him and explained to him what had happened, what he experienced, and what would he like to do. Percy picked his stitches, the ones connecting his fingers to his hand. He was unsure, but as he promised himself he would do anything to be with Nico, he would fully support him whatever he would do, he nodded.

The smile, full of sharp teeth, made his knees turn into jellies, but as he buckled, strong arms caught him and leaned him into a strong body. He felt finally home.

Nico believed that Percy had been made to fit perfectly in his arms. He was a ragdoll, after all. Destined to be moved according to another’s will carried away, held close, and loved with fierce protectiveness. 

After all, he, Nico di Angelo, the once lost and closeted boy, who ran from his emotions and who made sure his life was as miserable as one’s could be, finally had the one who always held his heart: Percy Jackson - the once big hero of the two camps, now nothing, but a ragdoll, whose only reason for living was him.

“It’s plain as anyone can see, we’re simply meant to be.”

[goddesswritings]

peacefall - the beginning | Sam Taylor

Title: : peacefall – the beginning

Pairing: AU Ghost!SamTaylor x OC

Summary: Y/n is a writer, and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost, and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.

Word Count: 3k

Notes: Beware, this story contains major character death.

Also listen to the song peacefall by Purity Ring and you may be able to get some og the headspace I had when writing this.

This is an old fic that I changed to Sam. Mind you, I have not seen Amazing Stories, so this doesn’t follow the actual episode, it more like uses the likeness of Sam Taylor and makes him into an ancient Victorian character for the purpose of this ancient story of mine.

Masterlist

********

“I have no true memory of meeting my parents for the first time. Of course not, I was just a babe, but I do know that they nurtured and loved me very much. Growing up, I never once questioned their love for me nor for each other, I just knew it was there.”

Recently, you moved into a beautiful old house. It was on the smaller side, with a narrow staircase that led up to the second floor, but it was perfect. The house had to have been built over a hundred years ago. It was filled with the most beautiful wood floors and moulding. Every room had some type of dark wood lining the walls and windows. Some of the wallpaper was peeling in a few of the rooms, but that was an easy fix. There were a few other things that needed fixing in the house as well. You knew the house had seen better days but were happy to be living in it.

There were two bedrooms, the main bedroom was located next to the bathroom. It had a nice row of windows on the far wall that showed the beautiful old neighborhood the house was in, as well as a beautiful little closet. The bathroom was pretty spacious for the small home, with a white clawfoot tub in the center of the room. You were in love with that tub the minute you laid eyes on it. Growing up, you’d always wanted a clawfoot tub.

The second bedroom was located at the end of the hall. There were only two windows in that room and there were two large trees that covered the sunlight from reaching the room. This caused the room to be a bit darker than normal, but you loved it all the same. You made that room into your personal office. You’re a writer. The room was the perfect place for you to work when inspiration struck. Especially because it allowed no distractions from the outside world.

Things were finally coming together for you. Your newest book had just been published and you’d finally saved enough to live on your own. You finally felt happy. You didn't have many friends or a boyfriend, but you were happy with yourself. Living alone would be good for you. It would allow you to focus and get a lot of writing done.

The first couple of weeks were quiet and nothing ever happened in the house. It seemed perfect, too perfect. You knew a house that old had to have some sort of past and you were willing to find out what it was. You were a naturally curious person.

Maybe a month into living in the house, things began to happen. Unimportant things would go missing and turn up in a completely different room. At first, you thought you’d just been moving the stuff and forgetting where you put it, but when a book you were reading disappeared when you explicitly remembered putting it on the bedside table, you knew something was going on.

At night there would be odd creaks that you hadn’t heard when you first moved in. One night you were sure there were footsteps in the hallway, but they were gone before you’d had a chance to investigate them. You knew what you heard was not in your mind. Even with this stuff happening, you were not afraid. You grew up in a haunted house, so it wasn’t new. Things just continued to happen for the next three months and you did your best to ignore them and just live life.

You were halfway done your next book when the notes for the book went missing. That didn’t make you happy, because it meant that whatever was doing it, was an intelligent spirit. You spent the entire day ravaging the house and trying to find the missing notes.

“This is not funny!” You yelled out while sitting in the middle of the living room, the house was a mess around you. After that, you swear you heard a laugh. This spirit just wanted to piss you off. This made you want to get some background on the house.

****

You had all intentions to learn the past of the house, but life got busy. You had to make an impromptu trip a few hours away to New York to meet up with your editor and agent. Both wanted to talk about your upcoming book and what they should expect in it. You have to say a good thing about being a writer is being able to keep your identity secret. You were able to live your life normally without having to worry about being recognized, it was great. Anyway, the trip to New York lasted about a week and you couldn’t wait to return home.  

The house was quiet when you returned, eerily quiet. You didn’t know what to expect from the spirit in the house, but at that moment you were too tired to care. You were dying for a soak in that beautiful tub of yours. After placing your bags in the bedroom, you headed to the bathroom to start the tub. You filled it with some lavender bubble bath.

After the bath was started, you retreated to the bedroom to get ready. You tied up your hair up and changed into a blue silk robe. As you were headed back to the bathroom, you remembered to grab a glass of wine to help you relax. So you turned off the tub before heading back down the stairs to grab it.

Halfway down the stairs when you spotted a tall man standing in the living room. He was only there for a split second, but you knew what you saw was real. You shook your head and made your way into the kitchen. Pouring a glass of wine before heading back upstairs. Walking past the living room, you got chills, but cast it off as nothing. You made it back to the bathroom quickly and put the wine on the counter.

Just as you’d untied your robe, you heard your bedroom door close, you retied the robe and went out into the hallway. “Hello?” You expected a reply but got nothing.

You walked to the bedroom to find the door shut. When you tried to push it open, it wouldn’t budge. “What the hell. This is not funny at all.” You spoke and continued to push on the door. So you stopped and listened for any movement on the other side of the door but heard nothing.

Once again, you moved the door handle and it swung wide open, slamming into the wall. There was no one in the bedroom. Now you were beginning to get freaked out.

Shaking your head, you went back to the bathroom and started to remove the robe again. Letting it drop to the floor, you picked up the wine and stepped into the hot bath. You set the wine on window ledge beside the tub before finally relaxing against the warm porcelain of the tub. It had been a long time since you’d had the chance to relax like this. You closed your eyes and let the water relax you, you just let your mind wander.

You sipped the wine occasionally. It must have been fifteen minutes or so before you started to feel like you were being watched. Shooting up, you looked around the room, trying to find the source of the feeling, but as usual there was no one. This spirit seemed to be playing a lot of tricks.

After that you decided it was probably best that you retire to bed, because you felt like you were going crazy. Exiting the bath, you brushed your teeth, and changed into a pair of black shorts and a t-shirt. Then snuggled into your bed. You still felt like you were being watched but you pushed that aside and went to sleep.

You were sure you’d gone to sleep, but now you found yourself sitting in the living room. You were dressed up in a beautiful blue dress and it seemed you were waiting for someone. Two minutes later you heard footsteps and a gorgeous man entered the room. He was tall. If you had to guess, he was about six feet tall. He had the darkest brown hair that was perfectly set on his head. His face had a cute scruffy beard that fit him so well. Everything about him was cute and screamed innocence.

“I love that color on you, darling.” He spoke sitting beside you on the couch. His voice was attractive.

“Thank you. I knew you would love this color.” You spoke in the dream. You weren’t speaking on your own will. The words came out without permission.

“You know me all too well, my love.” The man leaned in to kiss your cheek, a light blush formed on your cheeks. “You know I love you so much, Annabelle.”

That’s not your name.

“Oh yes I do, and you know I love you.” That was when you realized that it wasn’t your voice you were hearing and the woman sitting on the couch was not you. You were now standing on the other side of the room. She resembled you a little bit, but she was not you. Her hair was a couple shades lighter than yours. Her skin a couple shades darker than yours.

“That is why I want to marry you, Annabelle. Have you given my proposition any thought?”

She smiled but there was something fake about that smile and it made you sick, “I have Sam. I have given it so much thought, but I am afraid of what my father will say. The other townsfolk. I am betrothed to Peter after all.”

A frown appeared on the man’s face, “I understand that your father’s approval means a lot to you, I really do. But don’t you want to marry out of true love, not an arranged marriage? You and I are in love and I think that is all you need to get married. Marry me Annabelle. Please?”

Annabelle didn’t smile, she looked annoyed at the man. “Sam, I cannot marry you. My father means everything to me, and I believe he knows what he is talking about when he tells me that Peter is the best for me. I am sorry, I really am.” There was no sincerity in her voice.

“Okay, I understand.” He sighed sadly, “Then I must inform you that I will be leaving town in a few days. I have a job opportunity somewhere else.”

Annabelle nodded, “I think that would be best, but I do not think you are going to get far.”

Sam looked taken back by her words, “Why do you say that?”

Something in her changed and she looked positively evil in that moment. She pulled something from behind her and quickly shoved it into his chest. It was a knife. She had just shoved a knife into the chest of a man who loved her. What?

This was seriously freaking you out.

Sam looked down to where the knife was embedded into his chest and then looked up at Annabelle. “Why would you do this? I loved you, I still love you.” His voice was soft.

She just laughed and pushed him to the ground, “I regret to inform you, my dear Sam, I never loved you. I am in love with Peter and have been since before I met you. You are just a pawn in my game. With you gone, I will be able to take everything you have.” This woman was making you sick. She dropped down to the floor beside Sam and gripped the knife. “I am not sorry for anything I did.” There was no emotion in her voice as she spoke. Before Sam could reply, she pulled the knife from his chest. “Goodbye Sam.” Those were the last words she spoke before shoving the knife into his heart.

You sat up with a start. You were absolutely terrified from the dream. That was no dream, it was a nightmare. When you buried your head into your hands, you realized you were crying. The dream scared you. You needed a glass of water. Pulling yourself out of bed, you noticed it was only four in the morning. Rubbing your eyes before getting up and making your way downstairs for water.

So, at 4:15 am, you stood in the dark kitchen leaning against the counter with a glass of water in your hand. Your mind was trying to make sense of the dream, but it could not. Why would you dream something like that? More importantly, why do you feel like that dream was more of a memory than a dream? You finished the water and headed back to bed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get back to sleep, you just kept tossing and turning for the next two hours. Finally, at 6:30am, you decided to get up and work on the book.

Once again, you headed down the stairs to make a cup of coffee. Entering the kitchen, you stopped short when you saw something on the ground. It was the missing notes for your book. You shook your head and picked them up and started to go through the notes, a loose paper fell out to the floor. It was a newspaper article.

Town’s lady Annabelle Porter marries her long-time love Peter Lockwood.

You only read the headline, but it caught your interest. Especially since the woman in your dream was named Annabelle. Was this a coincidence? You were going to put the article aside for later. Right now, you needed coffee to wake up and you would figure this out later. Preparing a big cup of coffee and some toast, you grabbed the notes taking them up to the office. Some work needed to be done today.

You hadn’t even bothered putting clothes on, you lived alone. So, here you were, sitting in your cozy little office in some underwear and a t-shirt. Inspiration stuck shortly after taking a seat in front of the computer. There was no stopping you. Well that was until a creak of the wooden floor was heard behind you. Almost like someone was standing in the room. Quickly whipping around, you found no one.

“It seems that you like playing tricks on me spirit. Thanks for giving me my notes back.” You said aloud. You weren’t really expecting a reply, so it was surprising when a voice said ‘Welcome’ out of thin air. The most striking thing was that the voice sounded so much like the man from your dream last night.

“Uhhh okay.” This wasn’t the first time in your life that you were dealing with a ghost. You’d seen and experienced them all throughout life. This was just the first time that you had an intelligent exchange with one and it did freak you out a little bit. After that, the spirit didn’t say anything else. It got really quiet, so you got back to work.

****

You worked the entire day, only taking a few breaks for the bathroom and for food or drinks. The book was starting to come along. The house really seemed to give a lot of inspiration. Secretly you hoped to have another exchange with the spirit, but he was quiet after the morning antics. If you hadn’t known better, you would think that he left the house.

It was almost midnight when you decided to drag yourself to bed. You’d had a long day of writing and were starting to feel it all. Especially since you woke up around 4am. After brushing your teeth and using the bathroom, you climbed into bed. You were hoping you would have another dream. Maybe then, you can find out why Annabelle killed Sam?

At first, you had a bit of trouble getting to sleep, there was a lot on your mind, and you kept tossing and turning. You could not stop thinking about the dream from the previous night and the man from the dream that you kept seeing around the house. Was he the one haunting the home?

Two hours later you finally drifted to sleep, only to wake maybe an hour later to your covers being pulled down. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, too tired for this nonsense tonight. Before you could say anything, something or someone touched your leg. The feeling was cold yet inviting. You weren’t scared even when you knew you should be. Whatever was there stopped touching you right as you became aware of its presence.

“I know there is something here and I would really like it if you showed yourself.” You spoke into the dark room. Waiting for an answer, you received none. Sleep was closing in, so you just let it take over. You decided to deal with the spirit later. For now, you needed sleep.

PART TWO >>