#THEY’RE FINALLY LIVING UP TO THE VAMPIRE TITLE IN TERMS OF APPEARANCE I’M SO HAPPY FOR THEM 💜💜💜 /silly

[starheirxero]

WARNING FOR LOUDLESS !!! BUT I’M SORRY THIS IS MY ONLY TAKE AWAY FROM THE NEWEST EPISODOEHEOSBWLDNE

[Video ID: A doodle of Sun fanning himself as he says “It’s hot as hell in this fucking ass hot ass room I’m in!!” He turns his head and sees Bloodmoon with their newest design grinning at him a small distance away. He turns all the way around and with a low quality expression of shock and horror, screams “IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?!?!?!!!?!!!!!!” as Bloodmoon laughs at him. End ID.]

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars V (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: In this house, we respect healthy friendships where you can roast each other relentlessly.

Words: 3,073

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Chapter Five: The Alley.

It was the first time in days that Mel managed to sleep. After delivering the letter and saving Harry from his awful relatives, things were bound to get better.

Harry moved next to her, she groaned and hid her face under the coat.

"Not yet," She complained, "too early!"

"There's an owl," Her friend mumbled.

"Where?" She slowly opened her eyes.

Harry got to the window and let the owl in, it dropped a newspaper and went over to Mel, starting to nibble on Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that," Harry tried to scare it away, "Hagrid! There's an owl..."

Mel watched half asleep as Harry paid the owl, she had examined the coins during her flight and was excited to meet Gringotts so she could see a real Goblin. Her mother had given her the key to her father's vault, asking her to take good care of it. Mel promised she would.

They left first thing in the morning, Mel noticed that the motorcycle was gone, so they had to take the boat. Harry kept asking questions about everything, things that she hadn't thought of and was as interested as him to know.

For example, her uncle had been offered the position of Minister of Magic but declined so he could keep teaching at Hogwarts. She felt intimidated if she was honest, Dumbledore seemed to demand respect, and she wasn't sure she could live up to that. If the things her mother and Hagrid said were true, people would be waiting to see her turn into something just as impressive, Mel didn't think she had it in her.

On their way to London, Hagrid asked the boy to read the list of things they needed to buy, Mel slid closer so she could read it too.

It was all sorts of interesting: The titles of their books sparked a feeling in her chest to read them all in one sitting, the uniform and equipment reminded her of the fairytales she had been reading all summer.

"This is it," said Hagrid, after walking for a while, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

Mel didn't know how that place could be famous, maybe it was famous in the wrong way, for its lack of lighting and how it smelled.

When they walked in, most of the people greeted Hagrid, they were all strange in a way that made her eager to start her education, she wanted to be like every single one of them: Accustomed to their magic.

When Hagrid told them he couldn't stay because he was on Hogwarts' business, the room fell silent.

"Good Lord," said the barman, "is this – can this be –? Bless my soul, Harry Potter... what an honour..."

The man rushed over to them and shook the boy's hand, then he glanced at Mel.

"And this lady..?"

"Mel," She said simply, then Hagrid gave her a gentle push and she cleared her throat, "uh- Dumbledore. Mel Dumbledore."

The man let out what sounded like a squeal and quickly held her hand.

"Miss Dumbledore! We were expecting you too, of course, but the both of you at the same time... What a day, what a wonderful day!"

There was movement around and suddenly Mel and Harry were greeted by a bunch of strangers, all looking as happy as the next. Many names went over her head because she was nervous and didn't know why were they all expecting them. They didn't know anything about her besides her name, what could they possibly be waiting for?

It lasted a while, even a man that was a teacher in Hogwarts greeted them, he was young and it reminded her to a little scared doggie, because he would tremble and stutter the whole time.

Hagrid finally took them out of the fuss and guided them to a back door, Harry and him talked about the young man -Professor Quirrell- and how he had a bad experience with some vampires. He came back terrified of his own shadow.

Mel had an icky feeling about it, she could have the same fate if she wasn't careful enough.

She wanted to be good, make her mother proud and live up to her last name, but it was going to be hard, she didn't know a thing about the world she was supposed to live in.

Hagrid pulled her out of her thoughts, hitting the bricks in front of them and magically forming an archway.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley"

Brooms, potions ingredients, robes, books, wands... truly a whole world for her to experience, and a whole lifetime to do so, too!

They reached Gringotts, white as every cloud in the sky and Goblins in every corner. Mel was a bit taller than them but she wasn't deceived by the looks, Goblins could be tough if they needed to.

Hagrid went to one of the desks and gave Mel and Harry's keys to the Goblin.

After a careful examination, he gave them back and then they were guided to their vaults.

Hagrid also asked to see another vault: Number seven hundred and thirteen. He refused to say why. 'Hogwarts' business' he mentioned.

When they got to Harry's vault it was very impressive: Piles of coins everywhere!

Hagrid explained how it worked: Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. She made sure to memorize it.

Her vault was further away, Hagrid said that hers was older since it was the Dumbledore's vault.

When the Goblin showed what was inside she felt a strange rumbling on her chest, similar to looking at a warm dinner after a whole day playing outside. Mel wasn't thinking of it as a fortune she could spend, though. She thought about the security, she didn't have to worry about her mother barely making it till next month. She wondered why, if her mother had the key to this vault, she never tried to take a bit for them.

Then she thought that maybe her mother wasn't exactly able to buy groceries with galleons, so Mel understood why she went to gain her own money in the muggle world.

Again, Hagrid helped the kid to grab enough for a few terms and went back to the cart, looking pretty sick.

They arrived at the last vault, the "Hogwarts' business" as Hagrid kept calling it.

Harry and Mel squeezed each other in the tiny space they had, fighting to get a better view of a... completely empty vault. The girl sat back with a huff, disappointed. Harry tugged at her sleeve and discretely pointed to something on the floor: a tiny package wrapped on brown paper.

Hagrid collected it and sat back on the cart, the children shared a confused glance before preparing for the trip back to the surface.

Once out and about, Hagrid sent the kids to get their uniform while he went over to the leaky cauldron for something that could calm his dizziness.

Once there, the old lady asked them to get to the back of the store where another boy was trying on his robes. He had a sharp chin and cold eyes, he also looked terribly bored.

The problem started when he talked.

A bunch of rubbish, she would say. Even if she understood very little, she could tell what kind of person he was through the tone of his voice. When Hagrid appeared outside of the store and Draco called him a savage, it took everything in her to act politely.

Once out, she angrily whispered to Harry:

"What an idiot," She shook her head, "I hope that whatever house-thing we end up in, it's not Slyth-whatever..."

"Why?" Harry asked, "just because that boy might be there?"

"I refuse to share anything in common with him!" She faced forward with her head held high, "He's annoying"

Harry grinned.

"What?" She looked over to him, "What's so funny?"

"You looked like Aunt Petunia"

She looked at her friend in outrage.

"Don't be rude!" Harry laughed harder, Mel tried to stay mad but she inevitably joined in.

Harry had been quiet for a while, it was weird in him after spending the whole morning making questions. Mel tried to make him laugh, but he only paid attention to the task at hand and bought his equipment silently.

Mel did too, assuming that her friend would talk when he felt ready. He acted like that when something annoyed him and she knew him enough to be patient.

After they bought a good amount of quills and parchment, Harry spoke up.

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know – not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry.

"I don't know either," She patted his back softly, "you shouldn't worry about that boy, Glasses"

"What boy?" Asked Hagrid.

The two kids told what happened back in Madam Malkin's and Hagrid was quick to shrug off all of their worries. Although Mel already knew all that: Blood, knowledge, or families shouldn't matter as long as you do your part and you're good at it.

Or at least, she hoped so.

Then they talked about Quidditch -She could definitely become a fan- and the Houses back in Hogwarts. Apparently, Slytherin had a terrible reputation because Voldemort was there when he was young.

Next, they went for their books and potions ingredients.

"A gold cauldron!" Mel laughed, "Are you trying to get mugged? You can't walk around the streets with that!"

"I just thought it was more resistant than the normal ones!" Harry blushed, "Shut up!"

"Sure," She snorted, "you've been rich for what, thirty minutes? And you're already showing off..."

"I'm not," He pushed her away lightly.

"Mr. Potter, would you like me to hold the bags for you? I could hire an assistant for your needs, I see that the extra work is making you moody"

Harry tried to hold back, but when Mel bowed and opened the door for him, he burst out laughing.

Then Hagrid said he would buy Harry a present and Mel beamed at the idea.

"What are you going to get him, Hagrid?"

"He doesn't have to!" Insisted Harry, "Don't ask!"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at – an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer post an' everythin."

"An owl!" Mel exclaimed, "They're so pretty, Harry! We could send letters to my mum once we're in school!"

"I-I..." Harry was bright red, it had been a while since Mel had seen him so flustered and she was delighted.

"Let's go!" She took his hand and dragged him towards 'Eeylops Owl Emporium' with Hagrid following them.

"You'll have an owl, I'm so jealous," Mel said under her breath, "my mum would never allow me to have one, she'd say they're dirty..."

"I don't think Aunt Petunia will be pleased either," Harry replied.

"Oh, but who cares? They won't annoy you now"

"You don't know that," Mel examined each owl with care.

"I do," She smiled, "they don't know you aren't allowed to do magic"

Before Harry could reply, Hagrid got inside the store and looked around, he asked Harry if he had anything in mind and the boy shook his head.

"What do you think about this one?" The little girl asked, pointing to a snowy white owl.

She got closer to it, her hand dangerously near the cage. However, the owl didn't try to bite her, instead, it inched closer, grazing her fingertips.

Harry got closer too, looking at the owl.

"I do like it," He admitted, "Hagrid..?"

"Yes of course!" Exclaimed the man loudly, "it's yer birthday after all, whatever yeh want, boy"

All the way to the counter, after they were outside the store, Harry still was stuttering his gratitude. Mel stayed behind on purpose, but when she got back, she examined the list on her hands.

"Now we need our wands, Hagrid," Interrupted Mel.

A wand! Hagrid told them that they weren't allowed to do magic outside the school, but Mel was about to start school, so she wasn't too worried about it. Only a wand would tell her exactly how much like her father she was.

So they went over to 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.' Mel walked in, feeling her skin tingling almost as if the wands were telling her to inch closer.

"Good afternoon," Said a voice on her left.

Harry and Hagrid jumped, taken by surprise. Mel was too eager to feel anxious, she got closer to the counter.

"Hello," She smiled.

"Hello," Said Harry beside her, only a bit more awkward than her.

"Ah yes," The man smiled, "I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

He then looked at Mel, it took him a moment.

"You look a lot like your mother," He nodded, "but I can see there's a Dumbledore behind those eyes."

He watched the kids closely.

"Miss Dumbledore, if you please," He moved away from the counter and started measuring her body. Then the tape moved on its own while the man rummaged through the shelves.

She tried exactly three wands. Oak, then maple, then oak again.

"English oak with phoenix feather, twelve inches and a half, slightly elastic flexibility," Ollivander said.

Mel felt revived, that wand somehow welcomed her home.

She waved it a little and bright blue sparks shot out.

"Very good!" The old man cheered, "It seems you have found your match, Miss Dumbledore, congratulations! Mr. Potter, it seems to be your turn now..."

Harry, as usual, was a bit harder to find. A pile of wands was blatant proof of it.

Ollivander didn't seem to care as he kept bringing more wands with a delighted expression. After a while, he came back holding only one box, he had an odd look on his face.

He gave it to Harry, and the magic (quite literally) was immediate. Mel and Hagrid clapped and cheered, but Ollivander was in his own head, he kept murmuring to himself.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Mel watched her friend's wand carefully, frowning at it as if it could act on its own and only did bad things.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

"I don't think so," Mel said out loud, "I'm sorry Sir, but he wasn't great. He was nothing but a murderer. My friend will grow up to be much better."

Ollivander, instead of getting angry at the girl, chuckled lowly.

"Let's hope you are right, Miss Dumbledore. After all, your family has the reputation of being almost always right on what they say."

Mel stayed silent. If people kept reminding her how important her family was, she did not think she'd bear it for long.

The kids didn't feel like talking, not even on the train when they were close to going back to their relatives.

Hagrid bought them lunch and insisted so much on their attitude that they decided to share their worries.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," Said Harry, "all those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol– sorry – I mean, the night my parents died."

Mel nodded without speaking, she was chewing a big chunk of her food.

The girl waited for Hagrid to end his speech about how they would blend in easily with the rest of the kids to add:

"I hope you're right, I barely know who my dad was and now they want me to be exactly as his side of the family. I can't do that, I'm not wise or clever..."

"We know," Added Harry, teasing his friend.

"Sod off, Glasses," She nudged his arm.

"Emily will pick yeh up from the station," Hagrid said once they were saying their goodbyes, "here are yer tickets fer Hogwarts..."

Mel and Harry pressed their noses against the glass to watch Hagrid, but he was gone.

"Sometimes I still think I'm dreaming," sighed Mel getting back to her seat, "it's all too good to be true, don't you think?"

"Why didn't you tell me about your letter?" Harry asked.

She should've known. He was smart, Harry would never forget that his only friend hid the truth from him.

"I'm sorry," She said honestly, "I told you, Dumbledore went to my house and explained everything. I wanted to tell you right away! But he... he made me promise..."

"I thought we were best friends."

"Are you really mad at me, Glasses? I rescued you!"

"Hagrid rescued me, you just were with him!"

"Okay, yes," She rolled her eyes, "but I was there, just like I promised"

Harry lowered his head, frowning.

"Glasses," Mel repeated, "didn't I keep my promise?"

"You did," He replied quietly, "at least I won't have to go to school with that horrid uniform my Aunt was making for me, it was all Dudley's old clothes..."

"Gross," The girl grimaced, "oh, I almost forgot! I have a present for you!"

She pulled a tiny package from her jacket and handed it to him.

"Happy Birthday!"

"It's a..." He squinted, tearing up the paper, "a mouse?"

"It's a toy for your owl!" Mel smiled, "I bought it after you left the store"

"Then is not exactly mine, is it?"

"Well, no," She grinned, "but I think you've been too spoiled for today and that's actually useful, it will keep her busy while she's on her cage."

"You're loopy," He rolled his eyes, putting the mouse inside the owl's cage.

"Shut up."

Next Chapter —>

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 2

Or: McCann Reads His Mail

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Dead Trilogy Volume 1

Dire McCann returns to his office, in “the heart of the tenderloin district.”

Big, bold, black letters on the door proclaimed, D. McCann, Investigations. Beneath his name, in much smaller print, was the disclaimer Consultation by Appointment Only.

I guess even Dire knows his first name’s a little odd and abbreviated it. Who’d want to give work to a guy who looks like they’re trying to give themselves a nickname.

There’s several paragraphs describing the office. The outer office/reception area has a coffee table with old issues of Sports Illustrated and three red chairs, like a doctor’s office with an even more limited selection of outdated magazines.

It wasn’t much, but he didn’t require any better.  Recently, his only clients had been the Kindred, and none of them worried about his taste in furniture.

Not to his face, anyway. Vampires are like suburban parents that way.

The office proper, or his ”inner sanctum” as the narration calls it, is pretty standard; huge oak desk, “an elaborate telephone answering machine,” a table with a fax machine, PC, and printer on it, some metal cabinets, and more red chairs. It was also mentioned to have an “outrageous” rent that was almost worth it for the building’s cleaning lady.

The glow of a nearby streetlight gave the room an eerie, ghost-like interior.[...]No cheaply framed photos with hearty endorsements or tacky paint-by-numbers artwork hung on the walls. McCann believed in a strictly functional workplace. Besides which, it made a better impression on potential clients.

McCann sits behind his desk and reloads his submachine gun.

Considering what had happened already tonight, it seemed like good policy to stay ready for trouble.

For all the good it did him, but good thinking I guess. Proper paranoia helps in the World of Darkness.

Then he checks his answering machine. Two of the messages are for “divorce work.” That kind of stuff “didn’t interest” McCann, but there’s another detective in the building who specialized in it, and McCann trades him leads for favors, so he writes down the names and phone numbers. Another message is trying to sell him health insurance.

McCann grinned. Considering his present circumstances, he wasn’t sure he could afford the premiums.

Finally, McCann gets around to checking the mail he was carrying around during the first chapter. After separating the junk mail, he’s left with the small box, which was from Switzerland, three letters from Venice, Italy, another from Australia, and the last from Peru. He starts with the mail from Venice.

Dated approximately a week apart, the letters contained detailed records for financial deals made during the previous seven days.  The facts and figures covered hundreds of major business transactions throughout Europe and the United States. The detective scanned the documents carefully. There were no unusual expenditures or unexplained finances. Not that he expected to find any. The masterminds of the Giovanni Clan were the greatest financial wizards in the world. They kept a tight watch on their investments. McCann merely wanted to make sure no one other than him was skimming the profits.

Interesting. Despite doing work for the Camarilla, McCann also has connections to the independent Giovanni Clan, or at least is stealing money from them, and in a way that even their “financial wizards” can’t detect. There’s an even more interesting reveal at the end of the paragraph.

The longer he lived, the more cautious he became. And, though he appeared to be in his mid-thirties, Dire McCann lived a very long time.

Huh. The summary on the back cover describes him as “mortal.” Then again it also misspells his surname as McCannan, so...

Next he opens the latter from Darwin, Northern Territory Australia, which contains a newspaper clipping. Recently, “nomadic” Aborigines fled their reservation in the Tanami Desert and set up a shanty town outside the city. Officials tried to get the “troublemakers” to go back, “but with no success.”

No one could offer an explanation for the natives’ unexpected migration. Nor were the unwelcome Aboriginals willing to discuss why they had abandoned their primitive shelters and made the long trek to the coast. Their only reply was to point in the general direction of the Macdonnel Ranges and utter the word “Nuckalavee, Nuckalavee,” over and over again.

The hell’s a mythological Scottish demon doing in Australia?

Unfortunately, no one other than the natives understood what the term meant.

Have they tried asking a Scottish person? Maybe someone from the Orkney Islands? This is like Native Americans fleeing from the Loch Ness Monster or a kappa.

For those of you who’d never heard of it, or had never played The Bard’s Tale, the Nuckelavee is this big horse with the upper torso of a rider growing out of the middle of its back, and it has no skin.

The story ended with the mayor promising city residents that the shanty town would be gone shortly.

Australians being shitty to the Aboriginals. What a surprise.

I know, hypocritical coming from an American. But still.

McCann grimaced. He understood why the Aboriginals had fled. But he doubted that the government officials in Darwin would believe his answer. Or care. Mentally, McCann noted that he should request that his clipping service search for any follow-up stories. Or reports of unusual disappearances in the Northern Territories.

It’s a minor spoiler, but not an unsurprising one given the setting, but the World of Darkness version of the Nuckalavee is a vampire; a Nictuku, the name for a fourth generation Nosferatu. Father Naples mentioned them during the prologue when he was talking about the Nosferatu, remember?

“A few of their fourth-generation progeny are rumored to be grotesque monsters, known as the Nictuku.”

But whether it’s the mythological Nuckelavee or a vampire character based off of it, it’s bizarre that Weinberg took a mythological creature from one culture, transplanted it to a completely different one on a different continent, and act like it was always a part of that culture. Even in 1994, before Wikipedia, anyone familiar with Scottish folklore would know better. Hell, check that fan wiki page I linked just now. The reference used for the page came from VTM: Clanbook: Nosferatu. It came out in 1993, and it’s most likely what Robert Weinberg used for information on Nuckalavee too. If the information on the wiki is accurate to the book, then the book straight up says that the thing is Scottish. Even if the vampire migrated at some point, more people should know about it, at least as a legend, than some scared Aboriginals.

Speaking of... I’m no expert on Aboriginal cultures, living on the opposite side of the Pacific and all, but I’m sure they can communicate better than pointing at some mountains and grunting a monster’s name in fearful tones like some old Hollywood tribal character. At least enough to say “there’s something life threatening by our reservation and we’re getting away from it.” The story’s sympathetic to them at least, but that part rubs me the wrong way.

Next, McCann opens the envelope from Peru. It contains a photo and a handwritten note from a member of the Explorer’s Club. The photo makes McCann “swallow hard”. More bad news.

Scribbled in black ink around the margin of the photo were the words, “Found at entrance to huge cavern, Gran Vilaya ruins, Peru.” The picture showed a massive stone statue of a crouching demonic figure with a misshapen, bloated female body and the face of a snarling jaguar. Circling her feet in a ring were a dozen stone heads. Judging from the size of the skulls, the demon stood a least fifteen feet tall.[...]It fronted a huge network of previously unknown caves that honeycombed the Andes for miles. No one knew for certain the purpose of the underground warren. Several members of the expedition thought it might have served as a ritual burial ground for the mysterious Chachapoya civilization due to the numerous skeletons found scattered all through the tunnels. Which would therefore identify the demonic figure as the guardian of the dead.

Credit where it’s due, Robert Weinberg didn’t just make up the Chachapoya. Little’s known about their ancient civilization, and some of what we do know come from the Inca that conquered them and the Spanish, which aren’t what you’d call unbiased accounts. They even lived in the kind of “fog-shrouded region” or “cloud forests” that Gran Vilaya was described as being found in.

The writer ended his note with the hope that McCann felt his research money was being well spent.

McCann used money from a “secret Giovanni slush fund”, which of course none of the Giovanni clan elders know about, to fund the expedition. McCann feels the cost was justified, but would’ve preferred it it if they’d found nothing.

The statue was not a representation of the spirit guardian of the dead Chachapoyas. It showed their murderer..

Not sure why the Spanish had to build underground catacombs for the Chachapoyas to die of disease and poverty in when- No, wait, he’s talking about a vampire.

A creature who abhorred all life, she was named Gorgo, the One Who Screams in Darkness. And the empty caverns in Gran Vilaya indicated that once more she walked the Earth.

Turns out she’s another Nictuku, like Nuckalavee. One with a kickass title. It looks like some very old, very powerful vampires are waking up, and McCann is not happy about it. He opens the box from Switzerland. It came from “an old friend.”

Inside were photocopies of more than three hundred pages of hand-written memos and high level classified documents. They were a mixed selection from a half-dozen different European security agencies. All were marked TOP SECRET.

But we readers don’t get to learn what they say, because McCann checks his watch and learns he’s gotta be at the Club Diabolique to meet Alexander Vargoss in half an hour.

McCann’s preparing to leave when his phone rings. Remember his “elaborate telephone answering machine?” It’s got some spiffy futuristic tech in it like a “caller ID feature” and the ability to record phone calls. Stuff that only someone secretly skimming money from the Giovanni can afford. But seriously, I enjoy reading old stuff and seeing things that are common today described as rare and amazing. Hell, I didn’t know caller ID was a thing in 1994. My family’s middle class and we didn’t get phones with caller ID until the 2000′s.

Unfortunately, none of his phone system’s features come in handy in this case. He doesn’t recognize the number, but McCann answers the phone anyway.

A man whose voice McCann didn’t recognize spoke in clear, crisp tones. “Lameth,” said the stranger, “beware of the Red Death.”

Without another sound, the man hung up, leaving a stunned McCann holding the receiver. Lameth, the speaker had called him.

Nah, Dire, despite his clear, crisp tones the mysterious caller still has a bit of a lisp. He was actually calling you “lame-ass.”

It was a name from the dawn of history, one that McCann believed long forgotten. A master schemer, the detective did not like unexpected shocks. Especially ones of this magnitude.

McCann certainly has the connections and resources to be a master schemer. Still, I’d of liked to have seen him actually scheme before the narration straight up calls him one.

He tries to listen to the recording of the phone call, but turns out it didn’t record. The caller ID screen is blank, and even the phone number it picked up earlier disappeared. This is starting to sound familiar.

Luckily, McCann memorized the number despite his previous confidence in technology. He calls the local police station, specifically a cop named Harry. He asks for a favor due to him for a bottle of wine he sent Harry for his birthday; the location where his phone call was made from. Turns out, it’s from a booth in the front lobby of his building. One that’s been out of service for months.

Let’s recap. Assassins just tried to kill McCann. Powerful vampires are waking up abroad, which is worrying for a very old schemer with an eye towards international news like him. And an untraceable magic man just called him by a very old name no one should know and warned him of a threat with an ominous name. All before he’s gotta meet with the Prince of St. Louis. Good thing McCann’s a big tough book protagonist, ‘cause I’d certainly be a little anxious.

Not a believer in coincidence, the detective knew the three events had to be linked together. But how?

The voice on the phone had warned him to “beware the Red Death.” McCann had absolutely no idea who or what the Red Death might be. He had a terrible suspicion that he would soon find out.

[nemuri-no-kid]

It's me, the fic request anon... I hope this doesn't sound rude, but are you going to answer it? It's completely fine if you don't!! I'm just super curious and I keep checking your profile but it never shows!! :) (Sorry I'm being pushy it's been a few weeks now...)

Wait, who’s rude here again? It’s rather me who’s seemingly ignored you. But it wasn’t like that, I swear! But I guess you’d prefer to see an actual answer (finally) instead of excuses, so here you go! (You have some incredible timing though, like I’d post it today anyway - the joy of having cold) I apparently can’t make a simple list and it got ridiculously long, so I’m putting it under Read more. Does tagging people even work under Read more btw? If not then well, I suppose I failed a bit. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway. You’re probably already aware of this, but I feel I should point out that Kaito is my dearest boy, and therefore pretty much everything what I’m going to mention here is more or less about him. Contrary to appearances it won’t be only KaiShin, but I admit there’s a lot of that. Also, you won’t find here too many long stories, as I rarely read fics with more than 50k words unless I’d started them before they got so long. I mean, I do have quite a few saved and waiting to be read and I’m sure they’re all amazing, but at the end of the day I usually prefer sleeping than night-reading and yeah. Ok, let’s start:

So, did someone say KaiShin? Because you know, Shinichi is my second dearest boy, and when both of my boys are happy together it’s just the best thing. One of first writers who shown and are keep showing me the joy of reading about these two is @rachello344. Many of Rachel’s fics are only prompts, so they are pretty short and that’s a real shame, but they’re still worth reading! I think my favourite stories are these two and honestly I could read them over and over again - asexual Kaito is good, the fake-but-not-really marriage of these two dorks was the best thing and please write more self-indulgent stuff

@lunarscaped (Luna Darkside)’s oneshots steadily get longer and longer but I definitely don’t mind~ Some of the most memorable to me are Penumbra (a.k.a. only Shinichi could write a romance by accident), Darling, So It Goes (undercover mission and more of oblivious Shinichi) and Ease (just. asfadsfgdga) but really, they’re all good

House of Cards is a beautiful story of Kaito taking care of Shin-chan the Dove written by V. Shalyr (how Ai managed to make that pill will forever remain a mystery though); my other faves are With Each Season (it’s beautifull too), Paper Trail (funny short piece in which Kaito is too good at being bad, somebody stop him), Countdown to Forever (good old taking BO down together) and On Wings of White (aww, these two)

Alaena F. Dragonstar’s Win Some, Lose Some and Shadow of a Smile followed by Echo of a Laugh are all good examples of A+ writing. Boys, it will be fine, you have each other. Check the profile for more good stuff~

All ToukoTai’s fics are good, but Life In Technicolor is good, and then there is this Flower shop AU KaiShin Give A Little which includes Shinichi convincing Kaito to become Kid, and if isn’t that ironic

This Little Thing I Have by teawithmochi is a really nice piece - Conan overthinks his situation, but what are annoying phantom thieves for?

solomonara’s Getting Off Track - did I say something about overthinking? This is real overthinking, boys, come on

Almost Magical by ObsidianAbyss got me by this one scene in the class - Shinichi, if you’re trying to deny you and Kid have a thing, you’re doing it wrong

I love the dialogues in dokidokidk’s The Guy Next Door, they will never be not funny for me, plus it’s a nice idea of AU

Good Soulmate AU KaiShin is not bad, and aceoftwos’s Apple Blossoms is good. Also there are locard’s exchange principle series for even more of these two

Beautiful Carvings written by RavenShira is another really nice Soulmate AU. Misunderstandings are strong in this one - lesson: multiple identities don’t help in finding your soulmate

No Ghosts Need Apply by Cursed Detective is a really nice supernatural story, and Shinichi and Kaito are always a big plus for me, obviously. Kaito is sort of dead - the title may suggest as much - but such trivial detail won’t stop him, haha. And then there is a really nice (Not) Supernatural story. It’s ongoing, Shinichi is not a vampire and honestly, I love this and I need more

purple_mangosteen’s Clair de Lune series mean more KaiShin goodness, and also I’m a sucker for Conan and Kid texting each other

joisbishmyoga - I loved Rolling Snake Eyes for a good application of Kidnichi. Will Conan ever stop being so reckless though? I don’t think so. Pluralverse is about minds of three teenage detectives somehow ending up in Kid’s head, and it’s tight in there. It’s interesting, it’s good, read it. Twist the Knife is really intense and the writing is amazing, but it may not be to everyone’s taste, as rape and trauma happen and well

@kawaiibeyotch (kaitothegreat) writes mainly AoKai fics and they’re wonderful, I simply adore Aoko in these. Some nice examples are Live Life in full Bloom and Hello Incognito - these two are good AUs and have I already mentioned Aoko? There are also few HeiKazu stories which I’ve yet to read but I’m sure they’re worth trying, too

Slip and Fall, Obligation, Pride Goeth Before, Philanthropy, Heavy Silences, Never Here, Never Far and Shades of Grey by blinkblink form sort of a series and I wouldn’t make a better summary to any of them than the author, but it’s Kid and the Kid task force dealing with some actual dangers and criminals, there is action and mystery, and it’s really good written and you totally should read it

Nerves of Steel by Ellen Brand is another must read - Robo-Kaito makes a comeback and things get serious

A Perfect Act, No Little Plans, Both Dark and Deep and Forgiveness and Reunion by Candyland - a set starting from sort of cornering Kid by the police and presenting him an offer he couldn’t refuse followed by good action

@backtodc‘s piece about the Kid task force being actually competent when it comes to other crimes is both funny and brilliant, try it

The Cranes by Acier Glace is just so sweet? No pairings here, it’s just Kid making lots of paper cranes to make you believe in magic and did I say it’s sweet? Because it is

miladyFeather wrote the ridiculous The Adventures of Kudou Shinichi, Fast Food Worker which is ridiculous and I have no regrets sharing this one, even if it’s ridiculous

Now a surprise, as Love-Love Daisakusen by neonquincy1217 is Makoko/Sonoko! Where’s the catch? Well, remember Doito Katsuki? *wink*

When I think of quality SaguKai, I think of @5160763 (OrphanText). There is good KaiShin, too, but both examples I’m putting here happen to be SaguKai, so. Anyway. The way Kaito and Saguru are written, I simply love it. And How we begin is so good? Also, In the language of the birds. I read it while it was being put on Tumblr in small fragments and boy, every new fragment was making me so happy

The Hattori-Kudo Files is a set of few cases solved by Heiji and Conan (who could’ve thought that?), written by MeridianGrimm - I believe the last one isn’t finished, but the others are really interesting! And then there are some nice SaguShin and SaguKai fics, too~

I picked five of Mikauzoran’s fics for different reasons but again, I recommend trying all others as well: The Fifth Detective (Kaito’s reasoning is funny and brilliant, he needs a hug though), The Pit: A Romance and Quietly Starving (SaguKai, these dorks), Healing Heartbreak for the Holidays (SaguKaiShin? That’s even more dorks), and Coming to Terms (KaiRan - usually I prefer it platonic but this one really got me, also interactions with Conan? It was a pleasure to read)

Dressed to Impress by Lisa Telramor is a really nicely written SaguKai oneshot, for all your SaguKai needs

Addy01’s When the travel bug bites is a sweet story about Shinichi travelling the world to find his way in life again and befriending some magician thieves along the way. You made me reread it and I don’t regret anything

In case of Operation: Gift Wrap by Boogum I’ll just copy the author’s summary as it’s explanatory enough: ‘Sera Masumi was used to being mistaken for a boy. She was not used to being mistaken for Kaitou Kid.’

Critique written by Eliryn is a short but really nice piece. “Looks just like the real thing, doesn’t it?”

AngelicSentinel’s the suffering of fools was already amazing as a oneshot, so when more chapters appeared one day I was overjoyed. It’s KaiShin and it’s good. Also, the author is one of the only two (look below) which I trust enough to blindly read their ShinRan fics. Like, I have nothing against ShinRan, and I kind of ship it while being in Canon Mode, but I don’t go and read fics about them at all, so this is quite an achievement. Read their other pieces, too, they’re really worth reading!

Cost of Freedom by @mintchocolateleaves? OMG, Cost of Freedom. Read Cost of Freedom. I love both the plot and the characterizations, it’s amazing, read it. It’s ongoing and you’ll suffer because of that, but read it. And while suffering, try other ongoing fics: The Innocence Game, Law Unto Themselves and various oneshots. Like, I can blindly recommend each and every fic Mint wrote, even ShinRan. Cost of Freedom though

Next, Taliya - I recommend all present and future fics. My faves are Without Fanfare (my heart though), Search and Recovery and Recompense (the kind of Kidnichi enactment I approve and aftermath), A Word of Caution (Ai and Kaito as the main characters? Yes, please) and TMPD Antics (it’s simply hilarious)

lucathia’s 4-6-4-9 is a oneshot about Conan getting disturbing encrypted message and trying to find the sender. Oh, and there was some murder, too

A Snowy Meeting (followed by ongoing Hidden Friendship) by angelwingsonline puts Kaito in DC movies, starting from Quarter of Silence, and lets him befriend and exchange messages with Conan. I love this concept

Ichthyophobia’s Mirror Mirror and Two-faced, Half-faced are really funny - the former has really nice interactions between Shinichi, Kaito and the bad guy, while the latter… Let’s say that Kid fixing Subaru’s face is my aesthetic. And then there is Shaking Hands about Kaito not being really able to do magic anymore but getting help and somehow overcoming it and it’s beautiful. And again, check other fics too~

I liked the idea of Shinichi with grapheme synesthesia working in forensics in Number the Stars by The Sand Assassin. Then there are sweet KaiShin fics: Kaitou the Snowman (Akako, stop) and Dakimakura (it’s just a shirt Conan, you’re making Kid sad)

Yannami’s A Criminal’s Fiasco is a good example of why taking Kaito hostage is a bad idea. Poor criminals

@kkrazy256 (kakashikrazy256) likes making Kaito suffer. A lot. In all possible ways. And I really mean that. If that’s your thing, then check it out. And if it is not, there are the mild ones I like coming back to: Early Snow (this was literally my first fic in this fandom, I’m sentimental ok - also Shinichi and Kaito, come on), Mr Barista (Mystery Train aftermath starring Bourbon and Kid) and Sympathy From the Devil (or how could OVA 10 end if the bad guys weren’t so dramatically bad at being bad). As for the rest, you were warned, haha

In Elirius’s Put on a Smile and Take me Apart Kaito definitely doesn’t cope well with his situation. Somebody help him *sobs*

Hostage situation and platonic KidRan anyone? In that case, Irreplaceable by LostInTheDreams is the thing you need. As for other stories, I can only vouch for these with Kaito, but my boy is suffering a lot. Again

Unfair by Frozen-Infinity, but only if you want your heart to break, my boy is dying and this is unfair

StoryWriter369’s Broken Record makes my heart ache every time because immortal Kaito is not what should ever happen, but I’m doing this to myself from time to time anyway *sobs more*

Hebiaczek’s The fox and hounds is an ongoing story and to be honest I’m not up to date, but what I’ve read was a really amazing writing, and exactly the kind of plot I like the best. Because. The plot.

I loved Externalities by 873.25 and I hope Internalities will be continued. Characters are written so well, and both concepts are really intriguing. Try it and you won’t regret it

And last but definitely not least: kittebasu’s A Study in Scarlette - it’s a must-read. There is a good plot, there is Kaishin and it’s truly amazing, and did I say something at the beginning about not reading long fics? So this one is very long and I still read it, so it really does say somehing

I 100% missed at least few people and I’m totally going to regret it later, but let’s say I’m finished. See you in few weeks Anon, haha

[fheythfully]

fanfic author meme

my friend tagged me to answer all the questions in a fanfic author meme, and it is primarily for the Final Fantasy XIII fandom, so it’s located under a read more. :)

Fanfic Ask Meme

A: How did you come up with the title to [fic of your choice]?

Most of my fic names come from lyrics in songs that have to do with the story content, no matter how vague. Poetry also makes its way in there, and on the very rare occasion, something I come up with that sounds pleasantly appropriate.

A Series of Firsts was the only one in the past five or so years to get a title that accurately and simply described the story, something which I typically never do.

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

No, actually. I write primarily angst and I have a very satisfying and healthy life, so… it all just comes out from somewhere? I am not entirely sure where.

C: What character do you identify with most?

Most recently, maybe Makoto from Persona 5? Growing up I felt that I had all these expectations on me from my family and the adults in my education (which I totally dug myself into by being smart and eager to please) and I always wanted to just say “fuck it” and stop caring about pleasing others and being the perfect student. Which took me until my third year in university to actually achieve but hey, better late than never.

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with cause I’m a vampire smile (you’ll meet a sticky end)?

The title comes directly from the song ‘Vampire Smile’ by Kyla La Grange and it entirely fits so well for that fic. I definitely had it on replay the entire time I was writing.

E: If you wrote a sequel to Serendipity, what would it be about?

EDITED because I wrote for A Series of Firsts instead oops.

Serendipity would have a much shorter sequel - just lots of the gang being happy, of Fang and Vanille traipsing around the world, Yeul living in a big city and being amazed by all of it, Serah and Snow in a small French village with rose bushes and a kid or two and Light living in the same village with Hope being the Cool Aunt. Snow would have a motorcycle (and try to modify it to have a baby seat). Sazh would have a farm with chickens and livestock and live with his son and finally get the life he deserves. Maybe he runs into the reborn version of his wife and she remembers him. And live happily ever after. 

F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?

I don’t have one :( I even went through my favorites on both FFnet and AO3. I just like anything that makes me cry, and I cry easily, and sad fics make me happy.

G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?

I rarely read crack but an amazing one I’ve been reading is Sincerely, Me by Ignis_Sassentia and SharkbaitHooHaHa on AO3. It is a FF15 texting fic and just phenomenal.

H: How would you describe your style?

Lots of run on sentences and disjointed narration. I prefer writing drabbles because I feel like that format lets me get away with using the style better. I like using metaphors and a good balance between simple and more flowery language.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Angst. All the angst. Also, if a fandom has some sort of divine figure in it, then you can bet it’s gonna be worked into my fics – usually as either a passive or active antagonist. This is a big reason why I still love writing for FF13 so much, because thank you, Bhunivelze. And Etro. Mwyn too. I need to write more Mwyn.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to any Bhunivelze!Hope and Etro!Light fic.

I said to the sun, tell me about the big bang is my favourite out of the few (two?) I’ve written where both take after the divinity. Alternate ending to that one would be, their friends catch on and end them before they can succeed in destroying and recreating the world.

For just Bhuni!Hope, of which I wrote more, eve as my latest one – I considered Light actually realizing what’s happening within the fic itself and being the one to kill him. She would realize this in the midst of a relationship Bhuni!Hope has succeeded in constructing with her, and there would be lots of tears, and horror, and the symbolic knife stuck in Hope’s torso.

Gosh, I just can’t give you guys happy things, can I?

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

The premise in A Series of Firsts, where Hope and Snow have to come to terms with failing the world, and Light dying and becoming the Goddess, and then having to witness Light and Serah as children and then take them in, and do all in their power to prevent Orphan, and having them be family and Hope has a child with Light and then… they fail. And have to start all over again.

I’ve always appreciated time loops.

L: What's the weirdest AU you've ever come up with?

I discussed an idea with RainbowSerenity about a texting crack fic in the new world about the gang placing bets on how long it will take for Light and Hope to get together, and just being little shits in general (with a very liberal use of emoticons) and then Light and Hope are just there, like… should we tell them? When do you think they’ll realize we’ve been together for months now?

Also, an appearance by Bhunivelze via repeated friend requests to Light’s Facebook through a multitude of accounts. The sentence “how the hell does he have service in the deep ass of space!?” is written down in my phone.

I have to be in a very specific mood to write something of this sort, haha.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?

The AU fic above. Hope finding the temple with Light’s statue in 13-2, and ritually visiting it before it becomes inaccessible. Also, a fic I will shortly be releasing on – once again – Bhuni!Hope.

Outside of the 13 fandom, I have further ideas for my 14 OCs and how they meet, fall in love, and then go their own ways. An idea for an original fantasy story I’ve been sitting on (I have the entire plot written out, too…).

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

If someone could read my mind and finish that one FF8 fic I started in 2007 and never finished, despite rewriting like three times, it would be a miracle. The OC I created for it has grown alongside me all this time and I treasure her deeply, even though her story will never be properly finished.

O: How do you begin a story--with the plot, or the characters?

I usually start with a plot idea I want to write about and then the characters usually write themselves.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

The way I write my oneshots, the most planning I ever do is I have the final sentence in mind and then I have to write to get to that point. When I write (wrote) multi-chaptered stories, I typically had the plot mapped out and sometimes things would just write themselves in the process.

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

That FF8 fic. I don’t even want to talk about it, haha. Also a Narnia fic I was writing and had like, two sequels planned for. I am just horrible at finishing things.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Not really? I always write however and whatever I want. I really admire attica on FFnet, though – their writing takes me breath away.

Also Sylvia Plath and E.E Cummings make my heart skip a beat.

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

Bhuni!Hope, and Etro!Light. As has been made obvious.

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

Whenever Snow is being written as useless or dumb. That’s my biggest one.

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven't tried yet.

…Light and Snow, very brief in the original 13. I actually had something written down when the game first came out, but never properly wrote it.

Don’t kill me. It would be very sad where they share their angst over Serah and then realize what they’re doing and part ways.

V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?

Yeul. YEEUUULLL. I love Yeul. So much.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

Specific ones.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

All of them. Primarily, Light, Hope, and Yeul.

Y: A character you want to protect.

All of them. From me.

Z: Major character death--do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?

I love reading it if it’s written well, and I’ve never written specifics just background plot. There aren’t any deaths I can’t tolerate, because if done well, it can throw things into a nice twist.

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

She nodded and tiptoed up the stairs, careful not to wake her mother. She went into her room already pulling off her coat; it took her a moment to realize that there was someone else there. The room was chilly, the cold air pouring in through the half-open window. On the windowsill sat Isabelle. She wore high boots zipped over jeans; her hair was loose, blowing slightly in the breeze. She looked over at Clary as she came into the room, and smiled tightly. Clary went over to the window and pulled herself up beside Izzy. There was enough room for both of them, but barely; the toes of her shoes nudged up against Izzy’s leg. She folded her hands over her knees and waited. “Sorry,” Isabelle said, finally. “I probably should have come in through the front door, but I didn’t want to deal with your parents.” “Was everything okay at the Council meeting?” Clary asked. “Did something happen—” Isabelle laughed shortly. “The faeries agreed to the Clave’s terms.” “Well, that’s good, right?” “Maybe. Magnus didn’t seem to think so.” Isabelle exhaled. “It just—There were nasty pointy angry bits sticking out everywhere. It didn’t seem like a victory. And they’re sending Helen Blackthorn to Wrangel Island to ‘study the wards.’ Get that. They want to get her away because she’s got faerie blood.” “That’s horrible! What about Aline?” “Aline’s going with her. She told Alec,” Isabelle said. “There’s some uncle that’s coming to take care of the Blackthorn kids and the girl—the one who likes you and Jace.” “Her name’s Emma,” Clary said, poking Isabelle’s leg with her toe. “You could try to remember it. She did help us out.” “Yeah, it’s a little hard for me to be grateful right now.” Isabelle ran her hands down her denim-clad legs and took a deep breath. “I know there was no other way it could have played out. I keep trying to imagine one, but I can’t think of anything. We had to go after Sebastian, and we had to get out of Edom or we all would have died anyway, but I just miss Simon. I miss him all the time, and I came here because you’re the only one who misses him as much as I do.” Clary stilled. Isabelle was playing with the red stone at her throat, staring out the window with the sort of fixed stare Clary was familiar with. It was the kind of stare that said, I’m trying not to cry. “I know,” Clary said. “I miss him all the time too, just in a different way. It feels like waking up missing an arm or a leg, like there’s something that’s always been there that I relied on, and now it’s gone.” Isabelle was still staring out the window. “Tell me about the phone call,” she said. “I don’t know.” Clary hesitated. “It was bad, Iz. I don’t think you really want to—” “Tell me,” Isabelle said through her teeth, and Clary sighed and nodded. It wasn’t as if she didn’t remember; every second of what had happened was burned into her brain. It had been three days after they had come back, three days during which all of them had been quarantined. No Shadowhunter had survived a trip to a demon dimension before, and the Silent Brothers had wanted to be absolutely sure that they were carrying no dark magic with them. It had been three days of Clary screaming at the Silent Brothers that she wanted her stele, she wanted a Portal, she wanted to see Simon, she wanted someone to just check on him and make sure he was all right. She hadn’t seen Isabelle or any of the others during those days, not even her mother or Luke, but they must have done their own fair share of screaming, because the moment they had all been cleared by the Brothers, a guard had appeared and guided Clary to the Consul’s office. Inside the office of the Consul, in the Gard on top of Gard Hill, was the only working telephone in Alicante. It had been enchanted to work sometime around the turn of the century by the warlock Ragnor Fell, a little before the development of fire-messages. It had survived various attempts to remove it on the theory that it might disrupt the wards, as it had shown no sign of ever doing so. The only other person in the room was Jia Penhallow, and she gestured for Clary to sit. “Magnus Bane has informed me about what happened with your friend Simon Lewis in the demon realms,” she said. “I wished to say that I am so sorry for your loss.” “He isn’t dead,” Clary ground out through her teeth. “At least he isn’t supposed to be. Has anyone bothered to check? Has anyone looked to see if he’s all right?” “Yes,” Jia said, rather unexpectedly. “He is fine, living at his home with his mother and sister. He seems entirely well: no longer a vampire, of course, but simply a mundane leading a very ordinary life. He appears from observation to have no recollection of the Shadow World.” Clary flinched, then straightened up. “I want to talk to him.” Jia thinned her lips. “You know the Law. You cannot tell a mundane about the Shadow World unless he is in danger. You cannot reveal the truth, Clary. Magnus said the demon who freed you told you as much.” The demon who freed you. So Magnus hadn’t mentioned it was his father—not that Clary blamed him. She wouldn’t reveal his secret either. “I won’t tell Simon anything, all right? I just want to hear his voice. I need to know he’s okay.” Jia sighed and pushed the phone toward her. Clary grabbed it, wondering how you dialed out of Idris --- how did they pay their phone bills?—then decided screw it, she was just going to dial as if she were in Brooklyn already. If that didn’t work, she could ask for guidance. To her surprise the phone rang, and was picked up almost immediately, the familiar voice of Simon’s mother echoing down the line. “Hello?” “Hello.” The receiver almost slipped in Clary’s hand; her palm was damp with sweat. “Is Simon there?” “What? Oh, yes, he’s in his room,” said Elaine. “Can I tell him who’s calling?” Clary closed her eyes. “It’s Clary.” There was a short silence, and then Elaine said, “I’m sorry, who?” “Clary Fray.” She tasted bitter metal in the back of her throat. “I—I go to Saint Xavier’s. It’s about our English homework.” “Oh! Well, all right, then,” said Elaine. “I’ll go get him.” She put the phone down, and Clary waited, waited for the woman who had thrown Simon out of her house and called him a monster, had left him to throw up blood on his knees in the gutter, to go and see if he would pick up a phone call like a normal teenager. It wasn’t her fault. It was the Mark of Cain, acting on her without her knowledge, turning Simon into a Wanderer, cutting him away from his family, Clary told herself, but it didn’t stop the burn of anger and anxiety flooding her veins. She heard Elaine’s footsteps going away, the murmur of voices, more footsteps— “Hello?” Simon’s voice, and Clary almost dropped the phone. Her heart was pounding itself into pieces. She could picture him so clearly, skinny and brown-haired, propping himself against the table in the narrow hallway just past the Lewises’ front door. “Simon,” she said. “Simon, it’s me. It’s Clary.” There was a pause. When he spoke again, he sounded bewildered. “I—Do we know each other?” Each word felt like a nail being pounded into her skin. “We have English class together,” she said, which was true enough in a way—they had had most of their classes together when Clary had still gone to mundane high school. “Mr. Price.”  “Oh, right.” He sounded not unfriendly; cheerful enough, but baffled. “I’m really sorry. I have a total mental block for faces and names. What’s up? Mom said it was something about homework, but I don’t think we have any homework tonight.” “Can I ask you something?” Clary said. “About A Tale of Two Cities?” He sounded amused. “Look, I haven’t read it yet. I like the more modern stuff. Catch-22, The Catcher in the Rye—anything with ‘catch’ in the title, I guess.” He was flirting a little, Clary thought. He must have thought she’d called him up out of the blue because she thought he was cute. Some random girl at school whose name he didn’t even know. “Who’s your best friend?” she asked. “Your best friend in the whole world?” He was silent for a moment, then laughed. “I should have guessed this was about Eric,” he said. “You know, if you wanted his phone number, you could have just asked him—” Clary hung the phone up and sat staring at it as if it were a poisonous snake. She was aware of Jia’s voice, asking her if she was all right, asking what had happened, but she didn’t answer, just set her jaw, absolutely determined not to cry in front of the Consul. “You don’t think maybe he was just faking it?” Isabelle said now. “Pretending he didn’t know who you were, you know, because it would be dangerous?” Clary hesitated. Simon’s voice had been so blithe, so banal, so completely ordinary. Nobody could fake that. “I’m totally sure,” she said. “He doesn’t remember us. He can’t.” Izzy looked away from the window, and Clary could clearly see the tears standing in her eyes. “I want to tell you something,” Isabelle said. “And I don’t want you to hate me.” “I couldn’t hate you,” Clary said. “Not possible.”

“It’s almost worse,” Isabelle said. “Than if he were dead. If he were dead, I could grieve, but I don’t know what to think—he’s safe, he’s alive, I should be grateful. He isn’t a vampire anymore, and he hated being a vampire. I should be happy. But I’m not happy. He told me he loved me. He told me he loved me, Clary, and now he doesn’t even know who I am. If I were standing in front of him, he wouldn’t recognize my face. It feels like I never mattered. None of it ever mattered or ever happened. He never loved me at all.” She swiped angrily at her face. “I hate it!” she broke out suddenly. “I hate this feeling, like there’s something sitting on my chest.”

“Missing someone?” “Yes,” Isabelle said. “I never thought I’d feel it about some boy.”  “Not some boy,” Clary said. “Simon. And he did love you. And it did matter. Maybe he doesn’t remember, but you do. I do. The Simon who’s living in Brooklyn now, that’s Simon the way he used to be six months ago. And that’s not a terrible thing. He was wonderful. But he changed when you knew him: He got stronger, and he got hurt, and he was different. And that Simon was the one you fell in love with and who fell in love with you, so you are grieving, because he’s gone. But you can keep him alive a little by remembering him. We both can.”

Isabelle made a choking sound. “I hate losing people,” she said, and there was a savage edge to her voice: the desperation of someone who had lost too much, too young. “I hate it.”

Clary put her hand out and took Izzy’s—her thin right hand, the one with the Voyance rune stretched across her knuckles. “I know,” Clary said. “But remember the people you’ve gained, too. I’ve gained you. I’m grateful for that.” She pressed Izzy’s hand, hard, and for a moment there was no response. Then Isabelle’s fingers tightened on hers. They sat in silence on the windowsill, their hands locked across the distance between them.