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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Empty Space

A fix-it fic because we were ROBBED.

I wrote this for my own closure, and it is unedited, but I thought I would post it here anyway.

Dean didn’t want to open his eyes.

He couldn’t feel the chains and the heat, or hear the screams. Not yet. But he knew it would come. He wanted to savor these final moments of simple nothingness. A story left unfinished. The bliss that came before eternal suffering. There was no coming back this time.

He could still feel Sam cradling him. His last breath. The pain in his back.

This was it.

Dean stood for god knows how long, willing himself anywhere but where he knew he was. The Veil, the Empty, hell, even being reincarnated as a tree would be better than whatever was waiting in front of him.

A bird chirped, startling Dean’s eyes open.

He stood in the middle of a field adjacent to a road, tall pines lining the asphalt. The sun nearly blinded him, and he put a hand up to shield his eyes. It shone in that in-between kind of way, as if it was the middle of October, everything in flux. He could see a small, wooden building not too far ahead. Dean looked at his hands, then back up at the sky.

“Huh,” he huffed. “I made it.”

It was both a statement and a question. I made it to heaven. How did I make it to heaven? Dean took a step towards the house, half expecting the jig to be up at that point. When the ground didn’t crumble beneath him, and the bright blue sky didn’t melt away into hellfire, he took another step, one with more conviction. And then he was walking toward the building.

Dean’s mind was racing. With what memory would he be spending eternity? If his life hadn’t flashed before his eyes at his death, it sure as hell was now. Dean swallowed hard at the revelation that there were too many heavens for him, that his life had so many more good memories than he had ever given it credit for. Motel rooms with Sam, Lawrence with Mary, Jody’s dinner table… And Cas. Bars with Cas, the Impala with Cas, the bunker with Cas…

He knew Cas wouldn’t be in his heaven. That was more torture than paradise. Dean would look at Cas and only see all the things he never said.

Finally, Dean reached the building. Someone was sitting in a rocking chair --

“Bobby?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“Hey, kid,” Bobby said with a smile. “Took you long enough.”

“What memory is this?” Dean had realized he was standing on the porch of Ellen’s roadhouse. But where was Sam, where was his mom, where was --

“It’s not a memory,” Bobby said.

“What? But I thought --”

Bobby shrugged. “Things have changed around here. Your boy, he shook things up. For the better,” he added, opening the cooler next to his chair. “You can sit, you know.”

Dean accepted the invitation, settling into the rocking chair across from Bobby. He graciously accepted the beer from Bobby’s hand. “So… Jack did… all this?” He asked, taking a sip.

“Well,” Bobby sighed, shifting in his seat. “Cas helped.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. Not that it would matter. I’m already dead, his brain joked, helpfully.

“C-Cas?” He whispered, searching Bobby’s face for answers.

Bobby just raised his eyebrows and took another swig.

Dean stared down at his hands. Bobby was explaining the logistics of this new heaven, how Rufus lived five miles down the road, how Mary and John had a place not too far from Bobby’s. Dean could hear him, but his mind was miles away.

“Dean?” Bobby prodded, evidently having finished his explanation. Dean nodded at him, a wry smile on his face.

“It’s almost perfect,” he said, and he meant so many things. If Sam was here, it’d be perfect. If Jack was here, it’d be perfect.

If Cas was here, it’d be perfect.

“He’ll be along,” Bobby said, referring to Sam. Dean nodded again. “It’ll take time, but he’ll be here.”

“How long?” Dean asked, looking up to meet Bobby’s eyes.

Bobby just shrugged. “Time passes differently here,” he answered.

“What do I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

Dean considered the question and realized it might be the first time he’d ever asked it of himself.

“I think I’ll go for a drive.”

Cas watched Dean die from a distance.

He might have been able to find some comedic irony in the whole thing. Dean Winchester, who beat God, killed Death, saved the world… killed by a rusty barn nail.

Cas watched Sam burn Dean’s body.

Cas watched new hunters.

Cas watched old friends.

Cas watched humanity learn to live in a world without his family protecting it.

But mostly, Cas just watched Dean.

He watched him as he opened his eyes in heaven. He watched him talk to Bobby. He watched him get in the Impala.

He watched him drive.

Dean drove for miles, windows down, Led Zeppelin screaming through his speakers. Cas watched him bellow the lyrics offkey, watched him pump his fists in the air, watched him push 120 with his eyes closed because, of course he would, it’s Dean.

Cas watched all of this, but he did nothing.

Cas had fully expected the eternal sleep of the Empty. Embraced it, really. But instead, he simply woke up in heaven. It was a little bleak for a while there, with Chuck attempting to destroy the universe and all that, but then there was Jack.

“What am I doing here?” Cas asked. “I’m supposed to be…”

“The Empty can’t take you,” Jack replied with a smile. “You have a soul.”

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “I’m an angel,” he said in monotone.

“Yes,” Jack said. “With a soul.”

“How is that even possible?” Cas asked, now entirely at a loss.

Jack shrugged. “It might have something to do with your true happiness.”

Cas blanched at that.

Jack was glad to have him in heaven. He needed all the help he could get, he said, changing the place, making it more of a paradise and less of a prison.

Cas was happy to oblige him, but quietly, reservedly.

What was it? Your moment of true happiness?

Cas couldn’t tell him. Not while Dean was still alive, while he had a chance at a normal life. Jack would want Cas to see him, talk to him, to do something, and Cas couldn’t. He wouldn’t take that chance from Dean. Not ever.

And now? Dean was dead. His story, over. No more second chances. Cas knew he would have to do something eventually.

And still, he watched.

He watched Dean pull the Impala to a stop on top of a bridge. Take a deep breath. Get out of the car. Look around.

Cas watched Dean bow his head.

And, finally, Cas watched Dean pray.

This might be the dumbest shit I have ever done.

Wait, can I swear in heaven?

Hmm… Fuck?

Awesome.

Anyway, this is definitely the dumbest shit I have ever done. I’m in heaven. Who prays when they’re already in heaven? But, anyway, it worked in Purgatory, so I figured it might work here…

I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry I got myself sent to hell and you had to save me. I’m sorry that every time you tried to do right by me, I told you how you fucked it up. I’m sorry that you rebelled for me. I’m sorry that you gave up an army for me. I’m sorry that you died to save me. More than once.

Jesus, am I sorry you died thinking anything but the truth.

Cas, I don’t know where you are, or if you’re busy, or if you never want to see me again. But if you got time… I got something to tell you.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes shot open. His heart was pounding -- weird, I still have a heartbeat? -- his mouth had gone dry. He felt rooted to the spot, as if turning around and seeing one more bit of perfection might shatter the rose-colored glass.

But he turned around anyway. Slowly. Deliberately.

And there he was, stupid trenchcoat and all.

Cas.

Dean could barely swallow over the lump in his throat. Cas was regarding him with a curious, reserved expression, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered.

“I heard your prayer,” Cas said, and it was all Dean could do to choke back a tearful laugh. “You said you… had something to tell me.”

And, shit, if Dean had thought being dead would make baring his soul any easier, he was dead fucking wrong.

“Uh,” he shifted on his feet. “How long you been back?”

Cas shrugged. “I never really left,” he said.

“What? I saw the Empty take you.”

“I don’t know. I woke up in heaven. Well, the other heaven,” Cas said. “Jack seems to think I somehow… Gained a soul.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “It makes sense… I think,” Cas continued. “My moment of true happiness, it fundamentally altered who I was. Happiness is a uniquely human experience. When I finally achieved that, something in me became human.”

“Well, Jack is God, now,” Dean said with an awkward chuckle. “So he must be right. All-knowing or whatever.”

“Right,” Cas said, eyes narrowed.

“I guess you’ve been busy,” Dean said. He didn’t say, that’s why you didn’t come to see me.

“Indeed.”

How can I still manage to fuck this up in heaven, Dean yelled at himself, looking anywhere but Cas’ suspicious face.

“Dean?” Cas prodded, and that was enough.

Dean closed the distance between them in three long strides, wrapping Cas up in his arms. Cas went rigid with surprise, but eventually, he hugged back.

“I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered. “Like, really, really gone.”

“I did too,” Cas replied.

Dean’s face was wet with tears, but he buried it in Cas’ shoulder anyway. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck. Okay.”

He lifted his head, but didn’t release Cas from the hug. They stood, locked in embrace, while Dean screwed up his courage.

“You can have it, you know,” he said softly over Cas’ shoulder.

It seemed like every atom in Cas’ body stopped moving. His shoulders tensed, and he maneuvered out of Dean’s arms.

“What?” He asked. Dean panicked for a moment, seeing Cas’ guarded eyes. He almost convinced himself to laugh it off, punch Cas in the arm, make some joke about how this really must be heaven if the Impala can go that fast, but he stopped himself.

“You told me, before you… That the one thing you want, you can’t have it,” Dean said, forcing himself to hold Cas’ gaze. “Well, I’m telling you now, you can have it.”

“I don’t understand --” Cas tried to say, but Dean leaned in and the words were gone.

The kiss was everything he could have wanted and nothing he could have dreamed of. The feeling of right, of home settled into Dean’s molecular makeup, as if this was all it would have taken to fix him all those times he had been broken. As if the gaping hole in his chest was always just Cas-shaped empty space.

Cas pulled away slowly. Was he in a dream? Was he actually asleep, in the Empty, and now it was playing with him?

“Dean,” Cas said. “Are you --”

“In love with you? Yes,” Dean finished, urgent. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back there. I didn’t -- you left so fast.”

Cas blinked. “I wasn’t expecting a response,” he said, his mind feeling more than a little fried.

“You weren’t…” Dean trailed off into a chuckle. “Really?” He asked, smiling, his eyebrows raised.

Cas would have spent every eternity in the Empty for that smile.

“Really,” Cas said, smiling wryly back. “Evidently, I was incorrect in that assumption.”

“You gave me a whole speech, Cas,” Dean said. “What was I supposed to say?”

Cas gave him a serious look. “You needed to hear those things, Dean. I couldn’t leave without you knowing how I felt about you.” He swallowed. “You are real, though?”

Dean stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into another kiss. Cas thought he must have a soul, and this must be heaven, because nothing in his millennium had ever felt like kissing Dean Winchester.

“That answer your question?” Dean said after pulling away.

“Yes,” Cas said softly. “It does.”

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #spn 15x20 #spn spoilers #cailin writes

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annabcll · 4 years

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MEDALION RAHIMI / CIS FEMALE. — annabel majidi is really making a name for themselves as a tier 2 shepherd. i think that she is studying english + investigative journalism in their junior year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from new york city, new york, anna is known to be diligent & adroit, but can also be cynical & austere. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

4/5 !!! so close !! anna doesn’t really have ... any changes to her, except for her connections to the victims section so :^)

TW POVERTY, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, DEATH MENTION, GRIEF MENTION

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

biography !!

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to go to lockwood after graduation in order to stay somewhat close to her father - she’s here on a full scholarship for her dual-major in english & investigative journalim

is in midst of writing her first book, based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school, YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and to try and become an established author. if it goes well, it’ll become a series.

the watershed app captured her attention immediately, and she’s been slowly trying to work her way up the tiers of shepherds. finds it completely fascinating, and uses it to help with her psychic business.

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors.

personality !!

lives in audax, where things break A Lot. she’s usually seen threatening RAs and maintenance men until they fix whatever problems. :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun hidden in her dorm, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / mutually disliked each other and they’d avoid one another if possible. nobody is quite sure of why - some say it’s because tatiana was skeptical of anna’s psychic business, others say it’s because tatiana had gotten a bad fortune predicting her death.

george craig iii / once a friend of anna’s due to their similar personalities - their friendship was ended because of tatiana. once again - it isn’t quite known why, but it’s been hinted that tatiana had made george choose between her friendship & anna’s. tatiana had been the obvious choice, and that was that.

hana williams / a friend & a client, anna would regularly do tarot readings for hana. after tatiana, anna had tried to keep her readings positive.

christoph wainwright / enemies due to christoph pushing her buttons and generally just rubbing her the wrong way, her own suspicions leading to a natural defense against him, which he reflected.

wanted connections !!

maybe … a roommate?

acquaintances. people who’ve seen her around campus and are curious. people who’ve seen her like … kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

dance students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be helping them.

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! of any sort !! the kind where you never talk outside of it, or a hate-fuck scenario … anything !!

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

ok ok ok so … back when anna was an older muse, she was fresh out of a broken off engagement b/c her husband-to-be cheated on her … so i kinda want … smth similar to happen to her again ? y’know. make her fall in love. break her heart. ruin her again. it’d b fun ! angst is fun !

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like … maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana … it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#wshintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention #grief mention #being poor :/ tw :/#thts a joke im also very poor

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almightanna · 5 years

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cisfemale — ever hear people say ANNABEL DE LA ROSA looks a lot like ADRIA ARJONA? I think SHE is about 30, so it doesn’t really work. The AUTHOR / BALLET INSTRUCTOR has lived in Livingstone for SIX MONTHS. They can be DILIGENT, but they can also be CYNICAL. I think ANNA might be A TIER 1 SHEPHERD. ( snot goblin. 20. est. she/they. )

i’m sry this took ... so long to put out ... ive been rly lazy these past few days but !! she is Here and she is Ready. i haven’t played her in a few months and last time she was a junior in high school so !! forgive me. but she’s a very old muse and has gone thru ... several fc changes. anyways !! please give this a LIKE if you’d like for me to slide into ur ims.

TW: POVERTY, DIVORCE SORT OF, CAR ACCIDENT, TRAUMATIC INJURIES, MENTIONS OF DEATH, GRIEF.

a e s t h e t i c s

general info !!

full name: annabel maritza de la rosa

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′7″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

biography !!

born to two high schoolers who never married, mathías de la rosa and leonora nieves. they were head over heels for each other - when mathías graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until leonora graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, leonora’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

leonora picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

mathías and leonora split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as leonora running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with leonora’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

went to columbia after graduation on a full scholarship - it’s one of her few sources of pride - where she earned her dual degree in english & investigative journalism ( mostly because she didn’t know what she wanted to do )

wrote and published a book based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school - YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and become established as an author. surprisingly - the book was a hit, and has written three more in the form of a small series. she also wrote a small book on what it’s like being a ‘psychic medium’.

annabel only came to livingstone after the apner family had left her a hefty email - pleading with her to connect to their dead son. it was in livingstone that annabel heard of the watershed app - and it was from there that her interest was peaked. she immediately found herself involved as a tier 1 shepherd.

she’s partially there to take notes - to learn as much about the app as she can - and partially to strengthen and build her side-business, though she had thought she was retired. the con, however, is too great to resist. essentially - she wants to become a high enough tier to learn the dirt on everybody, and then use that for her psychic business.

decided to become a dance instructor due to her experience as a ballerina, but because she can’t really ... dance, has assistants that help her.

personality !!

lives in a semi-decent apartment downtown where the elevator would break every other week until she threatened her landlord and it was magically fixed permanently :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - her students are all terrified of her, and rightfully so. she teaches dancers between the ages of 16-24. while incredibly hard on them - she’d rip someone a new one if they tried to hurt any of her students.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely ... hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager and young adult - is still the same, just ... less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best ... relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

swore off love when she was 12 and during a fluke mid-twenties, wound up engaged. called off the engagement when she found her groom-to-be and her bridesmaid-slash-cousin together. very classic - very re-enforcing of a few of her greatest fears.

her apartment is still half-packed, half-unpacked, because she honestly cannot be bothered. got out the essentials and that was it. still has her ballet shoes, still has all of her awards for competitions she’s won - they’re just in a box tucked away somewhere labeled ‘do not open’.

is actually ... a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun in her apartment, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections !!

maybe ... a roommate? i imagine her living alone but i also like the idea of having roommate so :^)

she’s sort of new in town so ! acquaintances. people who’ve seen her in town and are curious. people who’ve seen her like ... kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

fans of her books !!

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, someone who went to the same college as her, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be teaching them.

alternately, one of her assistants !!

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! preferably mid-20s to like. late-30s. she’s not a cougar, i’m sorry :(

somebody who wants her to be a cougar. and she just has to keep rejecting them.

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like ... maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana ... it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#livingintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention tw #grief tw #only implied but

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muszyart · 4 years

Text

Alice Copper and the Budget Cuts Part 1: The Boy Who Died

Summary: The first part of a new series. Alice Copper is a fifteen-year-old witch from the Bronx. Her Quidditch broom is a plastic one from Walmart, and her Hogwarts is an inner-city high school for the abnormally gifted. Her magical world isn't perfect, but it's all she has.

Words: 7498 Words aaaaaaaaa

My name is Alice Marie Isolde Copper, and I'm a witch. My broom is one of those shitty plastic ones from Walmart, my wand is broken down to the size of a pencil, my Hogwarts is an underfunded, inner-city high school for weirdos, and I'm currently fighting a Hungarian Horntail, the most terrifying creature anyone's ever seen. Sure, some boy-who-lived who killed you-know-who might have been able to fight one when he was fourteen, but I'm not him, and I'm not fourteen, I'm fifteen. That doesn't help. Neither does this. I'll admit, maybe I got a little over my head with this whole tournament idea. Let me focus for a second.

Okay. He doesn't see me here. Eugh, gross... my broom is melting. Who knew plastic and dragon-fire don't mix? The reason why I'm fighting this dragon is... Anyway, how about I start at the beginning; otherwise, nothing will make any sense. It's not a long story, but a lot happens. It all started at 4 am on a stormy New York City Tuesday. I think I had fallen asleep an hour or two ago after numbing my brain to crappy YouTube videos. I hadn't left bed all day (of course I hadn't, it was winter break of my sophomore year). And I was wearing the same pajamas from the past few days, and I think all I ate the day before were Girl Scout cookies, I love Girl Scout cookies, it's sort of an addiction. Well, really an addiction-- more on that later. Anyway, I woke up to a terrifying pound on the door down the hall of our apartment. Almost like a body was thrown against it. I don't know why I went to the door to open it. You'd think I'd be scared and lock myself in my room, but I just thought that Dad had come home drunk again and couldn't get his wand out of his coat. I felt through the darkness of the hall and finally made it to the front door. I unlatched the three locks and pulled on the loose handle, that was when he crashed through, and then it all began...

"BAM!" An enormous man yelled as he blasted his way through the door. I flew back down the hall, nearly slamming my head against the air conditioner. Instead, a pile of dirty laundry that Mom didn't care for cushioned my fall. My original thought was, 'what the hell?' But my confusion dissolved into natural fear of a giant, hairy, trenchcoat-bearing figure towering over me down the hallway. I wanted to scream for help, but all that came out was a pitiful squeal. Our neighbors could probably care less anyway. I needed... I needed to defend myself. I can't punch him; I scrambled up to get a weapon from the kitchen. But that would be going near him. With strategic spontaneity, I ducked into my bedroom and clicked the frail lock, that wouldn't do... I barricaded the door with my chair, that won't work either! The chair has wheels, Copper! You absolute idiot! What to do... I needed to... I needed... I couldn't run. I could... I saw my old baseball bat poking out of the depths of my untidy closet. I jumped over my bed to reach the bat; my soul sank after I heard the door open easily behind me.

In one motion, I ducked down under his reaching arm, then I grasped the handle, pulling myself back up again, with all my might, I swung towards the figure. I hit him. It didn't follow through though, I noticed, and why couldn't I move the bat, I opened my eyes, the colossal man held the bat in his gloved, bear-like hand. That was it. Our eyes met, well, my eyes and his one, he wore a scratched, leather eyepatch. He was peering down at me as if I were a bug that landed in his food or if he was America after Pearl Harbor. I was about to get either squashed or Hiroshima-ed right then and there. I dropped the bat and backed away toward the wall.

"Holy shit..." I muttered, then spoke up. "Please, you can take whatever you want. My money is in the box in the dresser, but I don't know where my parents keep theirs because they keep changing it after they found out I was taking some. Don't kill me, please... take whatever you want! Anything..." I stuttered. I held my hands up. "Well, I mean, not anything..." The man stared at me, confused. "I mean, not my... I'm fifteen. But if you do, then just kill me." Why did I say that? His single eye squinted, his brow furrowed. He looked down at the ground and tossed the bat aside. Then he looked back towards me.

"Jesus Christ, Alice," he seethed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I lowered my hands and stared back at him, dumbfounded. "What? How do you-"

"I'm not here to rob you or kill you or anything!!! Christ's sake," he turned around and began to walk out of the room. "Or whatever the hell you were thinking about... Of course, you're a fucking weirdo. What did I expect?"

A small part of me started to believe this man was not here to kill me or rob me, with this newfound confidence, I retaliated. "Well, excuse me for thinking that after a giant stranger in a trenchcoat busted through my front door, screaming at me!"

The man stepped out into my hall and turned toward me. He barely fit in my door frame. The giant leaned against the wall and fished through his coat pocket; I still couldn't trust him. I braced for something, but I was relieved and even more disoriented when he presented a crumpled manila envelope.

"Alice Cooper, you have-"

"It's Copper."

"What?"

"My name's Alice Copper," I mumbled, still shaking a little. "Not Cooper." He stared at me blankly and started again.

"Alice Copper, I'm a representative from the Academy, and you've been accepted to a very special school. Take it," he waved the pale yellow folder in the air.

"What is it?"

"It's an envelope, dumbass," he shook his head. I wouldn't budge. "Think fast, Coop." He tossed it over to me, and I instinctively caught it. I hesitated.

"This doesn't involve Lucy Sullivan, does it?" I quivered fearfully.

"Who's that?"

"Nevermind." I tore open the package. My feet fidgeted, I rubbed my socks together nervously. My eyes quickly peered up at the guy; he wasn't looking back. The giant examined my room with curiosity, amused by my Green Day, Lord of the Rings, and House Slytherin posters. I saw him roll his eyes because I bet he noticed my dirty laundry scattered throughout the place and dozens of empty cookie boxes. His eyes then fixated on me.

I winced and rapidly emptied the envelope with shaking hands. There was a dark purple program for a school. It looked a lot like the dozens of ones my older sister got from colleges before she moved away. But this one was more simple in its design, not desperately trying to grab your attention to go there instead of Yale. It lacked the photos of happy college students on their apple laptops in the middle of grassy quads, it was straightforward and plain. I couldn't even find the school's name. There was also an acceptance letter, a facility map, a list of materials, a class schedule, a semester calendar, and a student ID with my name and face on it. Amusingly, my portrait was moving. It looked back at me with the complete and utter fear of seeing a gigantic me staring back at her.

"Wait... is this... you're here to-" I could barely form my thoughts into words, so many things were flashing through my brain. It clicked. I finally understood-

"I'm just here to tell you you're a wizard or some shit..." the guy stated bluntly.

"I'm... a what?" I beamed, a broad, toothy grin grew across my face.

"Ah, Christ," the man folded his arms and rolled his eyes again. "We're not doing this shit again."

"You're... Hagrid? But you're-"

"Black, half-blind, and not as tall? Yeah. I'm not Hagrid. But you know the deal, you've read star-kid Potter's books. The name's Wolfgang."

"I'm going to... Hogwarts!" I laughed and jumped. For so long, I thought I wasn't magical. My parents called me a squib forever. I tried to prove it to them, talking to animals or moving things, they just thought I was crazy! I'm a wizard! I'm a... wait. "Wouldn't I be a witch, though? Since I'm a girl?"

"Sweetheart, I don't know!" Wolfgang grumbled. "Call yourself a Jedi for all I care! I thought people these days were saying 'witch' was offensive. They started using 'magic-user' now 'cause it's 'non-binary' or something like that. You're a fucking wizard, goddammit. And no, you're not going to Hogwarts."

"Wait..." I stuttered. "Wh-what?" Wolfgang roared, laughing, shaking my room.

"You're too old for Hogwarts by now, but in the American school system, you've still got a couple of years to get your education. A kid died at the Academy so now you get to take his place, congratulations! You're coming with me."

I slowly glanced over at my Slytherin poster. My heart sunk... finally going to Hogwarts has been my dream ever since I was eleven, and I always thought I'd have a chance to go to the best, most excellent, most wonderful school there ever was. "Hogwarts..." I muttered.

"Hogwarts?!" The giant shook his head. "You're still on about that, huh? Your big dream! Ha! Ha! You got money?"

"No."

"Any rich parents?"

I gestured towards our dirty and tiny apartment. "Definitely not."

"Dead rich parents?" Wolfgang raised an eyebrow. I looked off into a corner.

"No. My parents are alive." I groaned.

"And that's an unfortunate thing to you; it sounds like," he walked closer towards me. "You a half-blood or a mud-blood?"

"Neither," I looked up at him. "Both my parents are magical. They just thought I wasn't."

"Wow, a pure-blooded witch, continuing the bloodline, lookit you!" Wolfgang laughed again, then grabbed my shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Coop-Copper." He pulled off his hat to reveal a glowing, friendly face, all except for the eyepatch. His mane of black, curly hair with gray patches also sprung out of his hood into different directions. "But sorry, two things. You're not the chosen one, and you're too poor for Hogwarts."

"Hey, wait. Then how the hell did the Weasleys all go to-"

"Way to assume their financial status! But you're right. They were all running on a family legacy scholarship."

"Shit." That made sense. I sat down on my bed, sheepishly, Wolfgang frowned. I didn't know if I should be excited about the new school, I always had that dream in my mind that I could go to that castle. I always told my parents that I really did have powers and that I would go there and become one of the greatest witches of all time. I would play Quidditch, or explore the dungeons, or meet so many new friends on an island across the world. Maybe even Harry Potter himself. That was gone now.

"It may not be the best school in the world, but you can still do magic and make friends. You're a crazy little turd, so you'll do great. Are your parents fine with me kidnapping you?"

I remembered they both hadn't come home in the past couple of days, which was normal. "I doubt they'd notice I was gone." Wolfgang's joking smile faded; he gave me a strange look.

"Oh, well, that bums me out." He turned and walked down the hallway. Each of his slow footsteps stomped and shook the entire apartment.

"Wait!" I called out behind him. "I'll get my stuff together!" I grabbed my special box off the dresser. I always feared that something would happen while Mom and Dad were away, so I learned to keep everything in one place. All of my money, letters from my sister, some CDs and USBs, my sketchbook and paints, and various other treasures I've found over the years at antique stores. Stuff like vintage buttons and coins, newspaper clippings, a glass ball, and a watch all nested in the corners between my old photos and my best drawings. That shoebox was probably the one thing I valued most, besides my computer, that I also shoved into my backpack freshly fished out of a pile of laundry. I opened my dresser drawers to grab some clean clothes.

"You don't need anything!" Wolfgang suddenly yelled back at me. "We're just going to the inner city-"

"The inner-city?!" I frowned and contemplated taking my things, but I still decided to bring the stuff. I pulled out some cash to keep on hand.

"We'll be back later, the school's just on Roosevelt Island, all you need is money, a backpack, maybe extra socks, and a pencil or something I don't care. Oh, but I have your school uniform here, get changed into it so that the muggers know to beat you up." He tossed a plastic bag to me. Inside it, he had bundled up a colorful, ugly uniform along with some black shoes. A sick part of my mind remembered what he said earlier.

"These aren't the clothes of the other kid-"

"What?!" Wolfgang wheezed. "No! Boys wear something different! We're not that crazy!" He groaned. "Alice, you need to stop asking all these stupid questions. Otherwise, you're gonna get beat up. Now go change!"

"Okay," I sighed and closed the door. I really should've showered, but deodorant would have to do for now. The uniform wasn't anything like Hogwarts, but I guessed that would be a theme. I finally fixed my collar and straightened my knee-high socks and purple blazer. The whole thing wasn't that bad... I still looked stupid, though. The colors were probably chosen a century ago back when wizard fashion was all gowns with stars on them. However, my daily clothing choices were no better. Popping some mints in my mouth and putting in some hair clips, I sauntered my way towards the door. I slipped on my backpack and made a last-minute decision to grab my mom's Slytherin scarf that she gave me a long while ago. It was going to be cold, and I might as well live the dream while I could.

I opened the door and found Wolfgang smiling at the family pictures in the hall. Many of the frames had cracked glass; they all had fallen off the walls multiple times. Magic was usually involved in all my parents' fights. We both stared at a picture of my mom for a short but awkward amount of time. She was leaning against a mossy stone bridge, the moment that the portrait captured was of her trying to find the best pose for the photograph. The wind flowed elegantly through her hair, and it billowed her yellow sundress. She smirked at my father, who was probably the one taking the picture. I saw her mouth open and laugh at something he had said, the photos obviously never capture the noise, but I could still hear her giggle in my mind. A sound that I had not heard or remembered in a long while.

"Oh, you're quick!" He jumped, noticing me beside him.

"So... we're going to Roosevelt Island?" I asked. He stomped over to the door and lifted it back on its hinges. I pulled out my keys and phone.

"Yeah, you'll have to take the subway every day. You live in the New York area, so we don't issue floo powder to you, it's expensive. That's how most of the American schools are now, everyone commutes except for a few of the prestigious ones. Thank your lucky stars, 'cause I've been reading up on it, boarding schools are actually pretty psychologically damaging."

"This is gonna suck," I groaned.

"You'll learn to like it! Get excited, Alice. You're a fucking witch for Christ's sake. What else do you want me to say? The world's bigger than Hogwarts, Alice. Not all of us get to live in that castle on the hill."

"Alright, alright, I know... Wait. I don't even have a subway station near me, how am I going to-"

"Are you sure?" Wolfgang smiled. "Do you want anything to eat? Let's find a diner or something, or maybe Chinese food for breakfast."

"Wolfgang! The nearest station is three miles away! I'm not gonna walk that every day!"

"Back in my day, I walked uphill both-"

"Wolfgang!"

"Don't worry. I can fix that; we're wizards, remember?" Wolfgang walked out of the apartment, and I locked the door behind us.

"Okay! But I'm a witch!"

"Yeah, whatever, c'mon."

***

Wolfgang breathed in the cold, fresh air and fully stood up straight without a roof over his head. He stretched and admired the sky filled with blue and purple clouds as the sun neared the horizon. It was almost sunrise, I hadn't slept at all, but this most definitely wasn't my first all-nighter. Excitement and nervousness swelled in my mind; I was finally a wizard after all. But still, the idea of Hogwarts lingered and poked at my brain as I struggled to keep up with Wolfgang as he strode down the street.

"Is this street usually busy, Coop?" He called back.

"Again, it's Copper, not Cooper."

"Yeah, yeah... whatever. Is it?"

"Um..." I looked up and down my street in the northern Bronx. It always seemed like the edge of the world, far from the heart of New York City. A couple of inches of snow covered the awnings and pavement. Grimy litter and withered leaves overfilled the gutters, the windows of the shops and apartments were locked for the night, and a plastic bag drifted through the wind along the road, like a tumbleweed. "Not right now..." I finally managed to say, as I imagined the morning. Nurses, janitors, and waiters all strolled down the sidewalks to get to work. Trucks and buses always came barrelling down the street, but they never stop here, no one ever stays here. It was just a road, never a destination.

"Well, yeah, no shit Alice," Wolfgang replied. I snapped back to reality.

"Right, I mean, yes. People are always coming and going." I replied. Wolfgang nodded and noticed a small alleyway across the street.

"That should do." He looked both ways down the empty street. I shot him a glance and began to walk forward. No one was there; everyone was still asleep. I felt his large hand grasp my collar, and he yanked me back.

"What the hell?!"

"Jaywalking."

"Yeah, everyone does it."

"Sorry, but something's crossing." Wolfgang's eye followed something intently as it raced by. He squinted down the road. I leaned forward and took a look around.

"There's nothing here!"

"Yeah, you see nothing," Wolfgang muttered under his breath. "You live on a dangerous street, Cooper." I gazed at him with annoyance but gave up correcting him. "Keep your door locked and your magic a secret." He moved forward across the street. I raced behind him then stopped for a moment as his words repeated in my mind.

"You mean, I can't tell anyone about it?" I asked.

"No one. Besides your parents, no one can know. I really don't have a good feeling about this. Let's get you to school." He pushed me forward in front of him, placing both his hands on my shoulders and guiding me into the alleyway. The long and narrow side street snaked between housing units and the sides of stores. Staircases led up to smaller apartments, and a couple of rancid dumpsters took up most of the floor space. Wolfgang checked over his shoulder and then pulled out a crooked, light brown wand. He closed his eye and waved his wand around a little in the space behind a dumpster. Nothing happened. The feeling of fear returned to my mind, did I seriously follow a crazy person into an alleyway?

"Done." He opened his eye and glanced at me.

"Nothing happened."

"Once you get your wand, tap this part of the wall four times whenever you need to use your subway station. Here, try it." He handed me the wand. It was enormous in my fingers, but I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tapped the wall four times with it. I tried to bring forward any power I had but felt nothing. My arm fell to my side, and I sighed.

"Did I do it?" I watched the bricks with a frown.

"Yup!"

"Wait, really?" Suddenly, the concrete finish of the wall rolled back, and the bricks underneath rearranged themselves. The snow and ice on the ground melted into the pavement. Parts of the floor cracked into rows and sequentially fell, a little farther than the last, creating a staircase. A miniature subway entrance formed hidden by the cover of dumpsters, a sign even appeared at the top and glowed in pale yellow with black text: 'Hogwarts Station.' I shot a look at Wolfgang. He snickered and snatched his wand back from me.

"Welcome to the New York-Northern Magical Line," he grumbled then looked over his shoulder again. He grabbed my arm and dragged me down the staircase into the darkness.

"Could I... try the wand again?" I asked cautiously as I worked my way down the pitch-black stairs.

"No, you'll get your own, don't worry," Wolfgang reassured me. In the darkness, I heard him taking deep breaths. I noted the rustle of his coat whenever he looked back behind us, toward the closing brick door, the wall was reconstructing itself. We rounded some corners, and a warm light emerged at the bottom.

"Is there something wrong?" I looked toward his large silhouette. I barely saw his head turn towards me. He grabbed my arm tighter.

"We have to get you to school. Quickly."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." his booming voice decreased to a whisper. "It's just..." he stumbled through his sentence. "You live in a bad neighborhood."

"It's not the worst, for the Bronx, that is..." I laughed.

"But it's one of the worst for wizards." He muttered.

"Was what you saw... the invisible thing... one of the bad-"

"Yes," he hissed. "Now shut up. Just shut up about it, alright?"

I opened my mouth to speak again, but I felt his glare in the darkness and looked down at my shoes, the warm glowing light reflected off of them. I hugged my backpack as we finally made it into the underground station. My arm was relieved. Wolfgang loosened his tight grip on it once we were in the light. It wasn't a big station. It was a large tunnel along with a small platform the size of a sidewalk that extended for the length of one train car. The station was remarkably new and clean: no graffiti or ominous stains marked the brown brick walls, nor were the tile floors sticky and wet. The pillars were pristine and shiny, and the yellow line ran along the edge, unsmudged and uncracked. A vintage electronic sign hung above the platform flashing 'Next Arrival: 494.23 seconds. Next Destination: Under Washington Heights.'

"Did you build the train, too? How does that even work? Why don't all wizards do that? Why even use Muggle transport at all?" I buzzed on excitedly. Wolfgang rolled his eye and didn't answer. His eye widened as he looked on toward the end of the platform.

I turned and noticed the glowing, red vending machine that stood, slightly leaning, at the back wall. The window was a colorful collage of packaging, the machine stocked with all sorts of candy and food. The two of us made our way over, and I started to make out the labels. Some of them I remembered from the Potter books, like 'Chocolate Frogs,' 'Cauldron Cakes,' and 'Bertie Bott's.' But there were also some other ones, in plastic wrappers and bags rather than the vibrant cardboard boxes of the British candy: 'Crackling Crackers,' 'Whizzlesnaps,' 'Gummy Wizards,' 'Onion Wands,' and... Doritos...

"Doritos?" My brow furrowed. I glanced at Wolfgang, who licked his lips.

"Yeah, they're good."

"But they're Muggle food..." I groaned.

"We're not a different species, Alice, did your parents not eat Doritos?" he fished through his pockets and pulled out a dozen different coins. "What next? You think we don't use computers or iPhones and wear those funny hats?" I glared at him. "Well, some of us do..." he grumbled, then started shoving his handful of money into the coin slot. With his huge finger, he began to punch the codes for all the snacks he wanted; the whole machine rocked with each number. I imagined that the box of metal and glass would precariously come close to the edge and fall onto the track, but finally, he stopped and turned to me. "Do you want anything?" I nodded and pointed to the Cauldron Cakes and Gummy Wizards. He chuckled and entered those in, too.

Finally, he finished, and the machine began to glow and sparkles popped out of the sides. Each of the snacks started to fall forward slowly. My eyes lit up in awe as each package swirled around and then dropped to the bottom. Wolfgang unamused, folded his arms.

"It's not even magic, Coop. It's a Muggle machine. We just add all the show to make it look like it's magic."

"Oh," I mumbled and slumped my shoulders, understanding the artificial taste of it all. Wolfang bent down and tried to reach through the metal flap, but his arm wouldn't extend far enough into it.

"Ugh, I always," he winced. "Have trouble- ow." He pushed forward. "With these things..."

"Let me get it," I relieved him and effortlessly scooped up the snacks. Wolfgang counted them all then glared at the machine.

"We're still missing the Doritos." He glowered.

"Wolfgang, it's fine, they're just Doritos." I sniggered.

"NO!" He roared. Then he shoved his hand into his pocket again and pulled out another coin and pushed it into the machine. He aggressively punched in the code again for Doritos, and the sparks flew, and the bag of nacho-cheese flavored chips began to spin around, ever so slowly. Finally, they reached the end and halted before falling into the bin. I laughed. Wolfgang shoved my shoulder, sending me spinning, still smiling, into the wall.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! THIS IS BULLSHIT!" He screamed and began to shake the machine with intense passion and strength. I continued to laugh, the Doritos wouldn't budge. He punched the window, which retaliated with some sort of force that sent him flying back. I leaned against the wall, giggling hysterically. "IT IS MAGIC!" He shouted while scrambling up from the floor. He ran toward the machine with the intent of murder. "Oh, I see how it is! You stupid-ass machine. I'm going to break you into a million pieces-"

"Just because it's magic doesn't mean it can understand you." I interrupted, he scowled at me.

"Yes, it does," he snapped, then turned back to the machine.

"I don't think that's how magic works..." I added, I started rocking back and forth on my heels.

"You don't know how magic works yet, Alice!" Wolfgang hissed. A computerized ring sang from the intercom. A shrill, electronic voice buzzed from the speaker, which echoed throughout the small platform and tunnel.

"All passengers, please refrain from murdering our vending machine. Any complaints on its service may be directed to the New York City Department of Magical Transportation. Also, the train's here, idiots." Wolfgang and I gazed at one another and then examined the electronic sign. 'Next Arrival: 3.14 seconds. Next Destination: Under Washington Heights. Welcome New Passenger: Alice Cooper.'

"Seriously?! They spelled my last name wrong," I grumbled.

"Ooh! Look at you, Alice," Wolfgang swiped the snacks from my arms and opened one of the foil bags. "You're on the sign at Hogwarts Station! You're famous!" I rolled my eyes, and the train appeared instantly next to us once the three seconds were up.

"Please stand clear of the doors. No food on the train." The voice droned on. Wolfgang and I glanced at one another with resentful looks in our eyes. "Just kidding." The voice croaked in fright. Wolfgang crunched a mouthful of Onion Wands and flipped off the intercom as the squeaky doors slid shut behind us.

My subway station was new and clean, but the train car was aged, dirty, and reeked of something dead or dying. Wolfgang didn't find any of these things a problem and took a seat on the single bench without litter on it. He brushed a yellow and green stained napkin off the one next to him and gestured for me to sit. "You don't want to fall." He leaned back comfortably.

"I'm not sitting there... that napkin had the plague on it." I sneered.

"They probably had mustard on a hot dog or something. Sit down." He grumbled.

"No." I grabbed the sticky hand-rail above. My face visibly screwed up in regret while holding the disgusting metal rod. Wolfgang raised his eyebrows. I began to walk over to the seat when the train sped on at lightning speed. With rapid reflexes, Wolfgang grabbed my arm again to keep me from flying to the back of the train and dragged me through the air to finally sit down in the seat.

We sped on for a while, Wolfgang had pulled out his smartphone and was messaging a contact simply marked "D" in what seemed to be a group chat called 'The Boys.'

"'The Boys?'" I laughed. "Who are your 'boys?'"

"Well, you're a nosy little shit, aren't you?" The giant chuckled and gave my shoulder a light shove. He turned away for a bit to finish his message. I heard the 'whoosh' sound after he hit send, and he returned to me. "It's the group chat me and some of the other teachers have."

"And who's D?"

"Your magic teacher."

"One of my magic teachers?" I corrected him.

"No," Wolfgang rolled his eye. "The magic teacher. You only have one in the whole school."

"What?" I stuttered. "Hogwarts has a different one for each subject, D teaches all of them?"

"Yeah, well, again, the Academy isn't Hogwarts." Wolfgang smiled smugly. "It isn't a magic school, it's a school for abnormally gifted children, for weirdos. Like you and me, and vampires, and trolls, and werewolves, and kids who can fly or read minds or turn invisible for who-knows-what reason. Mr. Thomas is the one and only magic teacher in the whole magic department. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Magic History, Transfiguration, Potions, all of it, that's him, I also teach you guys some Muggle studies, Herbology, and general how-not-to-get-killed useful stuff, but I'm mainly head of security." He opened his trenchcoat to reveal a purple blazer like mine and he pointed at a golden badge fastened to his jacket. He continued, "a senior usually handles Quidditch, this year we finally have enough for an actual quidditch team if you're into that. Usually, we have to pull in kids from the other classes, and, if we don't have a load of flying kids, the poor devils just run around with the brooms between their legs. Then there's Dr. Abeille, the Vice-Principal, she's also a witch and has been teaching kids for 50 years, but she doesn't anymore because she hates you."

"Me? Why?"

"No, not you specifically, just children in general. What's your guys' schedule this semester?" He nodded toward my bag. I unzipped it, my box of valuables had opened and spilled throughout my backpack, but I finally found the manila envelope. I flipped through the papers until I found one that said at the top in bold Times New Roman: '2020 Magical Student (Sophomore) Class Schedule.'

8:15: Class Begins

8:15-9:05: Period 1: Thomas: Defense Against the Dark Arts I - H7

Materials: SEE LIST

9:10-10:00: Period 2: Wolfgang: Auxiliary Magic II - H7

Materials: None, just your butts in my class on time!

10:05-10:55: Period 3: Harrington: Math (Algebra I) - E3

Materials: None.

11:00-11:50: Period 4: Gellensberg: Quidditch - Gym

Materials: I mean, a broom, I guess... I don't know.

11:50-12:50: Lunch Period - Cafeteria

Note: Notify the cafeteria about allergy information before class.

12:55-1:45: Period 5: Thomas: Beginner Potions - H7

Materials: SEE LIST

1:50-2:40: Period 6: Rodriguez: Art - B2

Materials: $20 Lab Donation for class materials.

2:40: Class Ends

NOTE: If you have any difficulties acquiring the materials for my courses, EMAIL ME! I'll help you out! -Mr. Thomas

"Math?!" I cried, Wolfgang rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, wizards still need to know math." He chuckled. "I bet Potter didn't put that in his books. Lemme see it." He snatched the paper and skimmed it. "Oh, Defense Against the Dark Arts is this year, and Potions, you'll have some fun! The way D does it is that he rotates the classes every year. He's got all the different grades in one class, so he doesn't want to teach the same thing twice." He read something else, and his smile faded. He sighed, holding something back. "So they did give Quidditch to Gellensberg, poor girl."

"Who?"

"Wren, Wren Gellensberg, she's one of the- well, now the only senior magical student. She and Honey- Marcus Honey, the person you're replacing... she and him were very close. He was the one that got..." he paused, then gritted his teeth and traced his finger across his neck. "You know..." He fell silent again. Then a soft smile appeared on his face after rereading her name. "She's a real sweetheart though, a little socially awkward, and when that happened... she hasn't been taking it too well. She didn't want to lead Quidditch, because it was Marcus' whole thing." He sighed again. We stopped at a station, nobody came on, and the train moved along. He tapped his fingers on his knee while I fidgeted awkwardly with my phone, pulling at its rubber and plastic case. I couldn't bear it.

"What happened to Marcus?" I asked curiously but a little too demandingly.

"I can't tell you, Alice," Wolfgang answered solemnly. "Someone else might tell you, but don't go around asking for it. They're all still really hurt."

I nodded and looked down at the floor. We passed a couple of stops, a woman in a Victorian purple dress came onto the train and grabbed a handrail with a gloved hand. Her beautiful leather handbag floated in the air beside her. She and Wolfgang exchanged looks, but there was still silence on the train for the next couple of stops. She held the handrail and stood watching the window, unphased by the speed and rocking of the train. I felt a pain in my stomach, I hadn't eaten, and it didn't look like we were going to get that Chinese food anytime soon. I pulled out my bag of Gummy Wizards and tried to open it. It was tough, thick plastic, and it crinkled every time I attempted to break it loose. The woman glared at me for the noise. I set the bag down beside me.

I looked down helplessly at my bag, starving, holding my stomach like a little peasant girl in Les Mis. Wolfgang took pity on me and placed his wand on the package and muttered something. The bag's seal opened cleanly, and my Gummy Wizards came marching out. I smiled at him and began to eat, but Gummy Wizards turned out to be a noisy candy because all the little witches and wizards fired and cracked spells at each other in my hand and in the bag. The woman glared at me again. I turned red and prepared to put my snack away. She gave me a smug look, I wrinkled my nose, but I lit up when her phone rang, and the humbug reluctantly lost her war of silence and talked to the person who called her. I debated pulling out my phone and listening to music, but I still wanted to know more.

"Whaddar vah udder keds like?" I asked through a mouthful of gummies.

"Huh?" Wolfgang munched on his third bag of Onion Wands. I swallowed and repeated myself.

"In the magic department, who are the other kids? What are they like?"

"What are they like?" Wolfgang pondered for a second. "They're all weirdos." He continued to shove more food into his mouth.

"But-"

"Yeah, yeah. Copper, Cooper... You're gonna have to be a big girl and meet them yourself, Alice, you'll have to get to know them. And don't ask them about Marcus."

"I just want to know more about the school, though," I whined impatiently. "How many of them are there?"

"Eight, including you."

"Oh, really?" My eyes widened. "That's small."

"I told you a bit ago, just barely for a Quidditch team."

"How many sophomores?"

"You and this other guy."

"Who?"

"Jericho Winslow."

"He sounds cool," I gushed, mouthing out his name. "Jericho Winslow."

"Not really, he's a huge dork." Wolfgang munched and fished for another Onion Wand.

"Oh."

"But yeah, I'd say he's cool."

"Who's the most popular kid?"

"Well, everyone knows everyone since there's only eight of you. But the leader was Marcus, now that position's up for grabs."

"What about Wren?"

"Nope. Wren's gone into her little hole of emotional darkness and existential misery. I keep saying it's not good for her, but what do I know about teenage girls?" He paused. I tilted my head. "Nothing actually, I don't know anything about you guys."

I shrugged. "She doesn't sound very fun-"

"Actually, she was pretty fun." He corrected. "But I bet things change when you lose your best friend."

"Yeah, sorry."

"No problem, Coop. You're learning." He fished for another Onion Wand then looked into the bag disappointedly after finding it empty. He continued. "The two juniors are Cassia and Logan. Two knuckleheads, really. But not as bad as the freshmen twins, oh my god, those two. Roscoe and Rowan Valentino, sometimes I just want to strangle them in their sleep." I gave him a look of one-third-worry, one-third-nervous laughter, and one-third-horror. He laughed. "They're good kids, just troublemakers. They're wise-cracks, they love pulling pranks and not listening to anything anyone tells them to do. I hate doing detention, but whenever they show up, they do make it less of a slog. And then there's Theo. I don't know much about who he is or what he likes because whenever I'm around him, all he talks about are plants. Maybe that is all talks about, though."

"This is Under Times Square Station." The intercom rattled. "Those who wanna transfer to West-East get off my train. We aren't going back." The doors squeaked and slid open, a large group of nearly two dozen men, women, and children holding cameras and suitcases entered. They wore sunglasses and chattered endlessly. The Victorian woman had finished her phone call and glared at then newcomers with an evil passion in her eyes.

"Tourists," Wolfgang scoffed, "even worse, wizard tourists. Luckily we're getting off here. Let's go find some Chinese food, and we'll head to the school, alright?" He heaved himself up and shuffled through the tourists, all disregarding the giant man trying his best to pass through them.

We just barely squeezed between the doors. I double-checked that I had my bag and everything, the train disappeared behind us. No starting again, no speeding up, it completely vanished leaving the tunnel and the larger, dirtier Under Times Square Station empty. A copy of the 'Wizard's Voice,' New York City's wizard newspaper laid on the floor, soaked in some brown liquid. I stepped over it, catching the headline: "ST. CHARLOTTE'S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS ANNOUNCES NINTIETH ANNUAL NORTH-EASTERN YOUTH WIZARDING TOURNAMENT." Wolfgang started to make his way to the escalator. I wandered behind him, checking my phone if I had received any texts from my sister or my parents. Nothing except for three from... Lucy Sullivan. Oh god.

I read the words again.

"im coming today copper"

"i need it now all of it!"

"if you arent at your apartment with the money at 2 pm. ur dead! remember I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!"

"Alice! Are you coming? Let's go! Aren't you hungry?" I snapped back to reality. Wolfgang was standing over me, and I realized that I had repeatedly been standing on the down escalator when we were supposed to go up. He had come back when he noticed that I kept returning to the same spot at the bottom.

"Yes." I looked up at him with a cold face. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost." He chuckled. I forced a smile, then dropped it and followed him.

"I think I might see my own," I said softly. Wolfgang looked at me over his shoulder as we ascended on the right escalator.

"Well, that's some weird and ominous shit." The giant placed a hand on my shoulder, then fixed my blazer's lapel. "You're gonna be fine, Alice." He smiled. "If you're scared about all that stuff I said, don't be, nothing in the magical world is gonna hurt you, not on my watch. Keep your head up, and just, don't die." The thing was, I was still terrified of the Muggle World, especially now. I smirked, another forced smile, and he faced forward as we got closer to the top, the light of the outside world was bright and blinding.

We suddenly stood together in the middle of Times Square. Dozens of people walked past, not caring nor noticing where we had come from or that we had appeared out of nowhere. It was morning in the city that never sleeps. Red, green, yellow, and white lights flashed from the ads and pictures on the electronic signs. Muggles walked in all different directions. One tried to hand me something so I'd buy it, but Wolfgang pulled me in close in front of him. I stuffed my cellphone back into my pocket and hugged my backpack. The sun had risen, and the new sky was red-orange and purple above with the faint outlines of stars fading into the clouds. The smell of the crisp air and all different kinds of food filled my nose; the sound of bass-filled music and an ocean of people's voices and the irregular beeping of cars flooded my ears. I've always hated the sensory overload of Times Square, but everything didn't affect me now, as soon as I'd seen a person or light, heard a car or yell, or smelt a hot dog or someone's body odor, they all blurred, muted, and vanished in my mind as Wolfgang guided me along.

I felt like I was going to die, in one way or the other, oh, not from the dragon, that comes later in the story, but I knew that even though I didn't have many friends or family, the Muggle world was going to notice that I was gone. It was going to find out about my dangerous secret world and try to drag me back away from it. And even as I enter this new world of opportunity, a whole different reality, I couldn't feel excited because sometimes all I could think about was what I left behind and how it was going to come for me. How it was going to hunt me down, it would catch me and force me back into my old life. The Muggle world was going to follow me into this new world, this not-so-perfect but a better world, this one that would actually care about me, and the old one would nearly destroy it and take it all away. I told you those Girl Scout cookies were going to be important later. It just so happens, that the dealer of my addiction, a Muggle, Lucy Sullivan of Troop 934, a belligerent thirteen-year-old with gambling debts, would be so insane to follow me into the unknown.

#harrypotter #wizardingworld #harrypotterfanfic #fanfiction #ilvermorny #deanthomas #magic

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