#kept changing my mind/mixing up where to put the orange beads

[honeyspawn]

I won't be at starkid innit (sadly), but I wanted to make friendship bracelets, cuz it looked so fun. Here's some LiB themed ones.

[mansions-maiden]

Helloooww againnnnn xD

Thank you so much for taking my request before (arthur mc switch place). Sooo i wanna request again if you have timeeee xD

About young mc was a mischievous kid, problem child and often got spanked by her mom back then. So i wanna request the scenario of mc suddenly become a little girl and 12 of them will dealing with her shit*y mischievous behavior xD. Kinda wanna see they got tired and traumatic to have children xD

Thank you so much before and i love you so muchhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

this was so much fun to write! and sorry it was late! I was busy with school work and the first draft got deleted. so had to rewrite it from the scratch. T-T. wrote it long as a compensation! Enjoy the reading! And second request from the same person! Love you too❤💕

word count: 2K.

The sun rose in the east and dyed the streets of 19th century France in it’s orange hue. Sebastian went to wake MC up as she didn’t wake up yet.

*rap rap* “MC! wake up! It’s morning already!” , he knocked MC bedroom’s door for sometime and yet, there was no answer from the other side. Worried, he went to comte and grabbed the spare keys to MC’s room.

He went inside and searched for mc. But when she couldn’t be found anywhere, he called for comte and Leonardo. Hearing his calls, Leo and comte immediately came running into the room, only to find a small girl child, fast asleep amidst the silky bedsheets.

The three men looked at each other before Leonardo gently picked up the girl in his arms. A crescent smile crawled on to their lips at the sight of the little girl.

Comte took the girl from Leonardo's arms and put her on his hip, wrapping an arm around her little waist.

"who is this little girl? Where did MC go?" Comte asked looking around the room.

The girl woke up from her slumber due to all voices and movements. The three men stared at her. " Hey Leo, why do I get a feeling that this little girl is MC? her eyes look the same as our mc..ow!" Comte cried in pain while speaking as MC was pulling his blonde locks of hair painfully.

Leo laughed at Comte and Sebastian quietly snickered before composing himself and spoke" M.comte, I think we should explain the situation to residents too."

"You're right Sebastian. I shall inform them. " Comte said, finally freeing his hair from MC's grip.

MC was giggling to herself loudly.

(Aand mama Comte and papa Leonardo mode have been activated )

All the residents stared at the new arrivals in the dining hall.

" Goodness Comte! When did you become father? Congratulations on becoming father of 13 members!" Arthur spoke from one end of the table with a mischievous grin.

"stop it Arthur. I am no one's father. And this little girl here is our MC. Looks like she took something that changed her into her childhood self". Comte said with a little frown as he took his seat.

"oh really!? MC is so cute! Come here little girl!" Vincent aka the gentle angel took her from Comte and sat her on the table. "Do you want bread lil doll?" Vincent asked, giving her the baguette.

MC threw the baguette on the other side of the table ( I can hear the sound of Comte's breaking heart seeing his favorite dish being thrown away XD. )

The baguette smacked Mozart's face and a disappointed sigh was heard from him ." It's only morning and I have to deal with little MC's ruckus? She already causes enough trouble in original form.." Mozart said.

"Mama! Papa! Give me chocolates!" MC went to Comte and tugged at his cloak with her little hands.

"wait! Why the hell is she calling you mama and papa!?" Theo asked with a surprised tone to which Leonardo replied with a shrug and laugh.

“sebastian? can you buy her some chocolates? “ comte asked. Sebastian immediately went into the town. 

"You're soo cute Toshiko- little mc! I want to squish you in my arms!" Dazai said as he poked her cheeks and suddenly, a shrill scream of pain escaped his mouth. " Ahh~! Why did you bite my hand !? " Dazai screamed again looking at the red bite mark appearing on his fingers.

"No one touches mc!" Mc squealed and jumped on to the floor and began running. "Catch me if you can!" Mc ran out of the dining room and disappeared into the gardens.

Arthur, Vincent and Napoleon were soon on their feet searching for mc. "Now, where did this sneaky little girl go?!" Arthur said, wiping the sweat beads on his forehead. That's when the three heard heard the adorable giggles of a child.

They saw mc, covered in mud from tip to toe and Arthur's and Theo's dogs running and playing with her.

"Gotcha!" "Ahh~ Arthur! Hehee!" Mc squealed and wriggled , trying to escape from Arthur's grasp.

"hey! W-what are you doing?!" Arthur exclaimed suddenly as he found himself getting covered in dirt by mc. " Wowee! Noe Arthur us dirty! Napoleon! Shoo him away and throw him in the bath"

"Go and freshen up Arthur. I'll take care of her" Napoleon told Arthur and sent him into the mansion.

" Napoleon! Bend down! Bend down! Gimme a piggy back ride! "

"wai- woah!!" Napoleon was surprisingly pulled down by MC by his Cape.

And that's how MC had a whole tour of mansion with Napoleon as her personal horse.

The sun rose further into the sky and soon it was afternoon. All the vampires gathered at the dining table including Shakespeare, who was invited for lunch by Vincent.

Shakespeare heard the giggles of a child. "Why doth I hear the giggles of a child in thy mansion Comte? " Shakespeare asked searching for the source of the voice.

"our MC has turned into a child Will. Those giggles are of our MC." Vincent explained what had happened from the morning.

" oh- looks like destiny has strange ways of entertaining herself.." Shakespeare murmured to no one and called out for MC.

"Shakespeare! You're here. I have some stories for you. Do you want to listen?" Mc asked running into the dining hall.

"what may those stories be little Angel?" Shakespeare asked, making her sit in the chair next to his.

" Do you know, Theo has sweet tooth secretly. He even fills his entire pancakes with sugar syrup! He dips everything he finds in sugar syrup.! And he wants Vincent  to love only him!”

"oi little Hondje ! What do you think you're blabbering about?!" Theo rose from his seat, as he stopped  eating his sugar syrup dipped pan cakes. XD .

"Vincent! Protect me from your darling brother!" MC said hiding behind Shakespeare and sticking her tongue out at Theo.

The mansion reverberated with the laughter of residents as she went on and on telling her stories , which had some of the most embarrassing stories of residents and had left residents with burning cheeks.

After lunch, Theo called little mc and took her out into the town along with his dog King. “ MC! come here! Don’t go wandering off!” Theo was having hard time catching mc and looking after his King at the same time.

“THEO! Come here! You must see this! It’s so cute!!” MC approached Theo and dragged him by his arm. Theo turned to stone as soon as he saw what had caught the sight of mc. “Theo! Theo? ...Hello..Theo!” MC shook Theo by his arm and Theo immediately looked down at her with a flustered gaze,” Why would you want to show me a cat?! You little rascal!” Theo bent down to reach mc’s height. “Oh.. Are you afraid of cats? I’m sorry! I didn’t know that.. but! OH! I gotta tell this to all the members!”

“Don’t you dare!” Theo now ran after MC as she sped off towards mansion. Her mischief kept all the residents on high alert their toes and they didn’t even realize it was evening.

When mc was roaming through the corridors, she found Leonardo fast asleep near the library doors again and  a sudden idea popped in her mind. She woke up Leonardo and gave him a glass of water. “ Leo! I thought you might be thirsty. So I brought you a glass of water!”

Unable to resist her puppy dog eyes, he took a sip of water, only to spit it out the next instant .” What did you mix in this cara mia?!”

“uh-oh! I think  I mixed the salt without my knowledge. Thank you for saving my tongue Leo!” mc said laughing and ran off into the corridors.

Sebastian was in kitchen, cooking dinner  when he felt his waistcoat being tugged. “ Hey, peasant! Bow down to the queen! “ MC posed as a queen with crown stolen taken from comte’s room. “ Your lovely highness, I’m afraid you’re not a queen yet. But the princess of this mansion does deserve a treat. Here” Sebastian told as he kept a chocolate bar in her mouth. A sweet moan escaped her mouth as the chocolate melted in her mouth. “ Yours truly is satisfied peasant! You may continue your work!” MC said as she went off, still chewing off the chocolate in her mouth.

“It looks as if looking MC is much harder than all the 11 vampires combined together..” he sighed as he murmured to himself.

after sometime:

Isaac heard a soft knock on his door and he opened it, and found little mc with her hands behind her back and mischief dancing in her eyes. “I am here to give you this” MC said with a smile as she gave him  a paper. A sour face was made by Isaac as soon as he saw the paper she gave. “What is this?! Not you too!” Isaac cried out as he saw the drawing of Isaac saying, “I love apples” and many more drawings related to apples.

“OH MC! COME HERE!” Isaac shouted as MC ran away, laughing loudly on her way. The residents heard the commotion and came outside, only to find Isaac with a flustered gaze and panting heavily. “Who told mc about apples and me?! Now even she joined in Arthur’s cult!” Isaac told everyone and everyone burst out laughing.

Comte called her into his room and sate her in the chair across him as he asked,” Cherie? Here you go , I bought this for you. “ Comte said as he gave her the new dresses and chocolates.

“ aah!! Comte! thank you so much!! You’re my mama!!” Mc squealed as she hugged comte’s knees.  She stretched out her hand and told, “mama! say aah!” comte opened his mouth and soon found out that she had given him a chocolate. He took her into his arms and sat her on his lap, kissing her nose and forehead affectionately.

After dinner:

MC was on the couch yawning  and scrunching her eyes when comte and Mozart found her. “Are you sleepy cherie? Would you like to sleep?” Comte asked, bending down. “Yes..” “ I shall play a lullaby then. Will you listen to it MC? “ . “yeah...” mc yawned again.

Mozart told comte to follow him into his music room with mc. Mozart began playing  lullaby as soft as the wind chimes in the windy night on his piano. Comte ran his fingers through the hairs of mc as he watched her fall asleep, with her head in his lap with a smile on his face. ‘could this day get any better?’ he thought to himself as continued petting her head.

After MC fell asleep, he carried her gently in  a princess carry into the hall where everyone is gathered.

“Is she asleep?” everyone looked at mc’s sleeping face with adoration as Napoleon asked. “ I can’t believe she has the nerve to sleep after keeping us on our feet the entire day.” Theo sighed .

“ I do agree..she’s such a handful kid.. But it is the most refreshing day and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen”  Arthur said, stretching his hands above his head and laughed.

“I can’t believe one of the most feared emperor  ended up becoming a personal horse for a little girl” napoleon said rubbing his still aching back and shoulders.

“Does anyone want to have a kid here in the mansion?” Sebastian asked with a curious gaze.

“No! Having mc already in her original form is enough to us. She’s just like a big grown up baby. “ Leonardo said with a smile.

“I’m so glad that everyone thinks of MC the same way” Comte said laughing.

“We all are tired today due to her. Let’s call it a day guys..” Everyone retired to their own rooms and comte put her to sleep in her room before going to his room.

Next day, mc was back in her own form with no memories of the previous day. But everyone kept their mouths sealed for they wanted to hide their smile whenever they saw her and were mesmerized by her innocence.

[hockeybabestars]

New Year Same Us - Auston Matthews - Nine

a/n: guys we’re so close to the end! only one more chapter after this! I hope you enjoy part nine!

December 31, 2018 - January 1, 2019

Mitch and Stephs New Years party was pretty amazing. They had decorated with shiny banners and confetti and there were hats and beads and glasses to wear to ring in the new year. Everyone was having a good time mingling or dancing or doing their own things. Music softly played through the living room speakers with ease and the NYC countdown was playing on the T.V. Everyone was dressed up and looking their best. And Aus was no different. 

I spotted him across the room chatting with Freddie. He wore a simple black suit with a white button up underneath, some of the buttons undone showing his toned chest. He looked hot. I thought he would go for something more bold but he insisted on matching me. I thought it was cute. My silver cocktail dress would for sure clash with the other suit he had in mind, so we compromised. His eyes met mine and I sucked in a slight breath. The twinkle of his gaze really doing it for me as he grinned. I smiled back shaking my head. 

He had seemed different since John and Aryne’s wedding. The night that almost was, as I had been referring to it. I had wanted to kiss him badly, but it felt like the timing of it all was horrible. I had decided that night that I was going to try to get over him. I was tired of hearing that we were perfect together and knowing an end for us was never in sight. And then he goes and pulls me back in with his lingering touch and lips ever so slightly ghosting over mine. 

An almost. A should’ve been.

Since then he’s made subtle changes. In the kitchen he would put a hand on my lower back as he brushed past me to grab something from the fridge. He’d been sneaking into my room late at night, just to talk or snuggle. And every time we go out he keeps an arm slung around my waist and eyes down every guy in the vicinity. It’s not fair, honestly. That he gets to stake a claim without the weight of officiality looming over his shoulders. It felt like he had decided to dance around whatever this was. And I was over it. My heart felt like it was being pulled in different directions. Option one was listening to my heart and diving head first into us, and the option two was telling me to listen to my head. And my head kept telling me that I would ruin us, some way, somehow, and I didn’t want that.

But for now, I would happily ignore all of that just to have a good time with my friends. I constantly needed a distraction from will-we-won’t-we with Auston, so I decided tonight that I would let him do his own thing and see where it took us. 

It felt like there were so many things going on, but maybe a refill would do the trick. I found myself in the kitchen, looking through the fridge for something to make a mixed drink with. One drink was not doing me enough of a service tonight, but I wasn’t planning on having more than 2. Maybe 2 and a half at the most. 

I pulled out some champagne and orange juice when I heard a voice from behind the fridge door. “Aren’t mimosas a morning kinda drink?” Willy asked as he shut the fridge door. He leaned casually against the wall and watched me fix my concoction with a smirk on his face. I flipped him off, but smiled as he opened the fridge back up to let me put the drinks away.

“No William. Can’t a woman drink what she wants? It’s new years, you think you could let me live a little.” I grab my drink and swirl it around as I move to step out of the kitchen but he steps in front of me, not allowing me to pass. I flick my eyes up to glare at him but he just laughs and grabs my wrists swinging them a little in front of us. I steadied our hands but he still lightly held me there.

“You seem like you're already over the night and it’s only begun. Wanna play a game?” He smirked.

“I am not up for your shenanigans tonight William!!! I mean business. And I absolutely can not be drunk.” I took my wrists back, one of which had my drink, and took a long sip.

He glared at my drink, “Sure, ‘absolutely can not be drunk’ my ass. Why can’t you live a little tonight? It’ll be funnnnn. Besides it’s fucking New Years. You deserve to be plastered (Y/N).”

I glanced around the room and spotted Auston, he had moved on from Freddie to Steph, and I wondered what they were talking about, both wearing serious expressions. “Just trying to keep a clear head is all.” I mumbled. I was about done with all the feelings swirling around in my head and my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could keep them in if I got plastered. Especially with the way he had been acting lately. What a mess that would be. So for now I keep tabs on how much I’ve had to drink.

“(Y/N/N)” Willy grabs my attention again, having picked up on my worries and this time he’s a little more serious, giving me a knowing look, “don’t worry about anything. Just worry about you. You know how to have a good time. Don’t let what ifs plague you tonight. I promise you everything will workout.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around him.

“Thanks Will. That’s just what I needed to hear.” I mumbled into his chest.

He pulled me back his smile turning into a smirk like a switch had been flipped, “game?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled all the same, “what game? Is it a drinking game? You’re such a fucking child.”

I felt a pair of arms snake around my waist and pull me in closer. His toned chest hit my back before he spoke, “yeah what game William. You fucking child.”

I laughed swatting his hands that only tightened around me as I looked up at him. The height difference was kinda perfect actually. He glanced down, giving me a wink as I gave up my struggles of escaping his grip. He rested his chin on my head as Will looked at us with a smirk.

“I'm the child here?” He playfully asked, “We’ve got options. Captain Dickhead? Truth or Dare? What Are The Odds? Seven Minutes in Heaven? Fear Pong? What do we want?!?” 

“Truth or Dare?” I deadpanned, “This is exactly why you aren’t in charge of this shit!” I laughed. 

“Hey you never know what can happen with the right people at the right time. It can be… fun?!” He chuckled and threw me a wink. I knew what he was doing. I wanted to kick that mischievous little smirk right off his pretty face. I could see right past his feigned innocence here.

“Are you buying this shit?” I turned in Auston’s embrace to look up at him, and he looked back down at me. 

He shrugged, “Captain Dickhead is always fun.”

“I don’t wanna be drunkkkk.” I grumbled.

“Whyyyy notttttt.” Auston teased but his eyes softened as he looked down at me, “you know if you wanted to I would take care of you. I haven’t had a drink yet.” 

I squeezed his arm in thanks, “I appreciate it, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

“It’s New Years this is the best mood!” Willy exclaimed but dropped it when I glared at him.

“Can’t I just be soberish damn it! We already went over this!” I laughed. Auston shook his head at the two of us.

“Fine, What are the odds?” Willy crosses his arms exasperated. “That can be sober!”

“I hate you.” I laughed. “I don’t wanna play your games Willy. I can already tell you have some plan formulating that I don’t want to be apart of.” Willy’s calculated expression wore off as I smiled. I pried myself out of Auston’s grip as I went to pat Will on the shoulder. “Sorry for being a buzzkill buddy!” I turned and saw confusion on Auston’s face as I walked past him, grabbing my jacket from the rack, and cradling my drink out to the balcony. 

The cool air of the night settled in my lungs as I rested my arms out on the glass railing. The city lights roaring to life as the clock got closer and closer to midnight.

I knew what Will was doing. He and Kappy were probably scheming some way to force Auston and I into a situation that would turn out embarrassing for me or something. 

I didn’t want our first of anything to be forced. I wanted him to want me because he had feelings for me, not because we were drunk at some wedding, or Kap and Will made a stupid bet or meddled as per usual. I wanted him to want me, but not like that. 

I shoved my thoughts aside, taking an alarmingly large sip of my drink, more like a gulp, and stared out at the sky. This was bullshit. I should be inside having fun with my friends, not trying to clear my thoughts as I overthink like I always do. I toyed at the sleeve of my dress, thinking back to when we were kids, how easy things were when the pressure of liking someone didn’t exist. When we were just us. Before I even thought of us as an “us”.

I heard the door slide open and turned to see who it was. Steph stepped out onto the balcony with me, the metallic material of her red dress shining against the moonlight.

“Hey.” She says softly, coming to stand next to me. I look at her, my expression wavering as I almost let out a few tears in frustration. “Oh honey.” She pulls me into her grasp and I lean into her. She drags me over to the breakfast chairs and slyly pulls my jacket and drink from me to set them down on the table. I sit with a huff and just breath for a minute as Steph just holds my hands. I’m thankful that she gets me, and let me collect myself before listening to me. 

“Willy, god love him, he kinda irked me back there.” I say. She looks at me confused as I continue. “He was all like ‘ I get you, don’t worry about anything’ and then he was all ‘let’s play a game with the right people at the right time and see what happens’ like no.”

Steph just laughs and I can’t help but let my frown fall away as I laugh with her.

“(Y/N), don’t worry about Will. He just wants you guys to be together as much as the next guy so he meddles a little bit.”

“I won’t let him meddle.” I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

She looks at me seriously, observing me before speaking, “is this why you don’t wanna be drunk tonight?”

I nod, “I just don’t want to ruin anything, and I know what will happen the minute I get out of control,” my hands fall to my lap as I play with my fingers, clasping and unclasping them to distract myself. I had meticulously avoided drinking the last few times we all went out together. I felt like I would be overkill if I let myself off my own leash. “I don’t want to ruin anything.” I mumble.

“(Y/N), babe,” she pauses, “why don’t you just tell him? You’ve been sitting with this on your chest for years now. And you’ve been dealing with it by yourself. Just let yourself breath.” she pats my hand in my lap.

“I can’t just come out and tell him I love him.” I suck in a breath. “I don’t think I could bear the rejection from him. Not from Aus. I care too much about him to lose him this way.” I stress. 

“What makes you think it would automatically be rejection? How do you not see it?” She smiles before getting up and pulling me with her. I arched a brow. “Take a moment, but then go back in there and have fun. You deserve it.” She gave me a quick squeeze and headed back inside as I found my way back to the railing. 

I took a breath and closed my eyes as I just focused on clearing my mind. It was peaceful out here. The city was different at night. It felt more alive.

I heard the balcony door slide open and click shut for the second time, as footsteps came to a heavy stop next to me. It was silent for a second, just the sound of the city in the background. The air was charged around us, like he had something to say but couldn’t quite say it and I held my breath. He rested his hands on the balcony next to me, letting out a sigh before he spoke, “Were you ever going to tell me how you felt?” 

I turned to look at him then, eyes wide in shock and the embarrassment I felt was surely showing on my face, “I uh-how did you-“. He moved closer then, still not touching me but closing the distance between us slowly, and it felt like I was suffocating in his presence. “You weren’t meant to hear that.” I breathed lowly, scared that if I spoke louder maybe I would break. The chill of the Toronto air had set in and I shrugged my leather jacket over my shoulders, wrapping it tighter around me and allowing my arms to subtly wrap around themselves. But Auston saw through me. He reached out and gently peeled my arms from around myself and brought me closer to him, his scent, his voice, his presence invading my personal space from every angle.

“But I did. I did hear you.” He was so quiet I almost didn’t hear the words escape past his lips. His forehead rested on mine and his lips were so, so close. All I had to do was push up on my tip toes and his mouth would finally be on mine.

“And?” I breathed in anticipation, eyes lidded and heart racing so fast it could beat out of my chest. When did this go from me being fearful of losing him to being wrapped up in him? His fingers traced my hand as one slowly curled around my wrist and the other reached out to my waist to draw me closer.

His eyes flickered down to mine and I could hear the countdown at 10 from the living room. And if he was so cliche as to-

He kissed me on 8. His lips slowly working on mine in long drawls. His grip on my waist tightened and the hand that was in mine slowly cupped my face. His hand feels so masculine against my cheekbones, the calluses coarse against the expanse of my soft skin but I leaned into it. I brought my hands up to his broad shoulders, pushing myself as close to him as humanly possible, feeling his taut muscles ripple against me. His body heat radiated off him and warmed me up in no time. His tongue was slow and calculated in my mouth. I could feel all the passion he felt in that moment and it caused me to whimper in response. Which in turn made him tighten his grip on me. He tasted sweet like dessert wine. I could hear the cheers of our friends as they rang in the new year but I just I smiled into him. I felt him smile back as I slowly pulled away and caught my breath. 

Somehow both of his hands found their way to my waist, keeping me flat against him. I clasped my hands around his neck and scrunch my nose as he leaned his forehead back to mine gently.  I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of him against me.“That was-“

“I’m in love with you.” He interrupted and I opened my eyes. “You wha-“

“I’ve been in love with you for way too long... I just didn’t realize it. And you’ve been right in front of me this whole time. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before or why it took me so long to admit, but,” the city lights reflected in his eyes making them glimmer as he looked down at me, sincerity gracing his face, “It seems like everyone else caught on before I did. I never want to lose you. My best friend. I always want to be that for you. But I can’t just settle for it either.” His smirk started to peak out at the corners of his mouth, as I felt myself start to smile a little at the normalcy of it. This. This felt normal. That stupid smirk too.

“I need you to be mine.” He says slowly, like he’s scared, that after all of that, that I would somehow say no. 

“All you had to do was ask.” I smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a little more confident about my feelings now. 

“I love you, Auston Matthews. Nothing has ever changed that, and nothing ever will.” I place both hands on his cheeks and give him a lingering peck on the lips. His eyes flutter open, staring into mine fervently, and I start softly, “I’ve been in love with you since we were 16 and you dragged me out on the ice. You were so mad about the outcome after your game. But you didn’t say anything about it. You just laced me up after it was over and said you could think better when I was there. I never took that too lightly.” I grinned at the look of awe on his face as he sat down in the chair I was previously in and pulled me down with him. I faced him on his lap as he placed his lips over mine again, thumb lightly rubbing a circular path along my jaw. And as he pulled away I caught my breath.

“I’m glad I get to do that anytime I want now.” He smirked.

“Anytime you want?” I played.

“Anytime,” he pecked along my jaw and I instinctively closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips burning on my skin, “anywhere.” He kissed my lips again but I was the one who pulled back this time. 

“Happy New Year Aus.”

“It is now.” He grinned and I lightly swatted him, his laughter filling my ears, “that’s not going to change is it?” 

“Same old us, you still want your best friend right?” I smirked.

He smiled genuinely. The one that filled my heart to the brim, “Same us, (Y/N/N).”

-

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Attic | Oneshot [1/4]

CHECK OUT THE FULL ONESHOT HERE

The flashlight was weighted against her grasp, a heavy mix of metal and plastic with a slowly flickering bulb that would buzz to anything but the naked ear. It cast an odd circular glow, one that was a golden sliver of daylight in the musty old attic.

Chloe hated the attic; a small space that could mostly be avoided, but in today's heat, it seemed blunt and unwavering- it’s scent like mold and sweat. Maybe she had been up there too long, the slowly climbing temperature doing nothing for her standards, or maybe she was just dehydrated. But her focus didn’t deviate from the flashlight in her grasp.

She let out a shaky sigh, condensation slowly pooling against her chest and curved collarbone. Chloe was a lanky girl- the first to sprout a few inches in her eighth-grade class, but the last to realize that height didn’t really change the fact that she had bright red hair that would always deem her the title of an evil demon. She had grown into her feet and her stature, earning looks from the very people that doubted her in high school.

Now the pediatrician was beyond sure of herself and her abilities as a Ph.D. None of that old stuff seemed to matter- not the yearbooks, the teasing, the horrid fluffy dresses she wore to prom… or at least it didn’t matter until she had crawled her way back into the dusty clutches of this place.

There was supposed to be an estate sale later- one that finally cleared out her mother’s old Victorian house for good. This place was supposed to stay in the family- to garner hope for future generations of Beales. The job offer in New York was calling the young doctors name, however, one the made it near impossible to keep this place in her name.

“Are you admiring the view up there?” Her girlfriend's voice echoed from the small hallway that gave the only access to the upper part of the house. There was nothing much to see, nothing other than some bare wooden walls and a bunch of pink siding that was unusually tempting to the young woman.

A simple smile moved across Chloe’s lips as she flipped the flashlight off, pressing a small rubber button that got rid of one of her only lights sources. It plunged her into a warm darkness. She blinked a few times, shoving the flashlight into the edge of her belt loop as she breathed in the musty air.

“I’m coming down now,” She announced, testing out the top rung of the wooden ladder, listing to the aged surface creak and groan as she hung onto a piece of paneling for dear life- nails splintering wood. She heard Beca shifting against the wooden floor below her, biting the inside of her lip as the smaller girl stared at her. She stepped down a few more rungs before meeting stormy blue eyes at level, her hand still grasping one of the edges. “Who’s admiring the view now?”

Beca threw her head back and groaned, scratching slightly at her dirtied cheek as she stared at the inky black opening that was left above them. “It’s your fault for wearing yoga pants, Chloe. Not mine.”

“God, you’re like a dog in heat.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” She kicked sheepishly at the floor, the taller girl shook her head slightly as she listened to the springs creak and groan once she lifted the ladder into the very secret hiding place on the latch. She cringed as the rope that hung from the ceiling burned against her palms.

“I would like to call it unfair.” Beca continued, snaking her arms around Chloe’s waist as the girl let out a small yelp- both parties ignoring the balky flashlight that hung lazily against a belt loop. “I have been moving furniture all day.”

“So, you must be tired then,” Chloe pointed out to her, adjusting her arm around the woman’s shoulders. They were aching, her own exhaustion creeping in. “Baby, even if I were comfortable having sex in my childhood home, Aubrey is going to be here any minute with the papers.”

“She can watch.”

“Beca.”  

“Fine.”

It wasn’t a normal conversation the two would share- but Beca had been on edge lately. Her own career plowing forward in the Big Apple as well, the small DJ traveling home every other weekend for the past six months in order to get some face to face time with Chloe. It had been scarce and getting on a plane just to clean up an old house wasn’t on her to-do-list, especially if Aubrey Posen was involved.  

As if on cue the swift three toned knock on the mahogany door. It echoed against the nearly empty corridors, traveling up the staircase as Chloe didn’t waste any time pulling away from her girlfriend. Her very defeated girlfriend who let out a soft groan and willed her legs to follow Chloe down the carpeted steps.

Even Beca had to admit, the house was beautiful; it was large and whimsical, something that was made out of a children’s book or maybe even a vintage dollhouse. Even the front door had a red and orange stained glass window that outlined the blurred silhouette of Aubrey’s straight-laced persona. She stopped halfway down the staircase, leaning against the banister while Chloe pulled open the creaking hinges to get a good look at the lawyer.

The blonde beamed, her deep olive eyes flicking momentarily towards Beca before focusing on her friend instead. She didn’t mind the dirt covered girl as she wrapped her in a tight hug, Chloe never one to turn down an embrace, closing her eyes as she breathed in the lemon scent Aubrey always seemed to carry.

“uh,” Aubrey pulled away, wrinkling her nose “You stink.”

“You’re telling me.” Beca mumbled scratching her neck as she put on a fake smile “Hi, Aubrey.”

“You try getting a whole house ready for an estate sale and then we’ll talk Posen.” She chided jokingly, turning around to face Beca with an accusatory finger point. “You hush,”

“Hi, Beca.” Aubrey chuckled slightly, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. “Someone is grumpy today.”

“I am grumpy every day.” She drew out her syllables with every passing second, letting out a huff as she flopped down onto the step directly under her- it pressed against the middle of her back but she stifled a wince- instead playing with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned back to her friend, stare flashing close to the documents that the woman held in her hands. “Are those them?”

“Mm,” She hummed, waving the packet around slightly “The biggest part of this is your on-site. You can keep all of the money you get from this, but anything that’s left behind has to be donated to HFH. But we can always wait a few days and change up the contract-“

“No, that’s fine.” Beca said from her curled up ball on the steps, earning an accusatory look from Chloe, causing the restless girl to backtrack “I mean, it’s charity, right? Habitat for Humanity?”

Aubrey nodded pensively as she ran her fingers over the edge of the paperwork. Beca swears this type of legal work was a turn on for the young lawyer. Well, any type of legal work was a turn on for her. She would get off on the different type of highlighters she needed to use and the scent of freshly changed toner.

“She’s right, Chlo, eager, but right.” She shrugged “This would be your easiest route, it’s how most estate sales go in the first place. What doesn’t sell get’s donated, but with the type of stuff your mother kept around I’m sure you’ll have no trouble clearing it up.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe confirmed with a nod of the head. “I just don’t know how all this stuff works. The cleaning I can do… the legal-“

“Is why you have me,” Aubrey finished her sentence, boasting a smile that could blind the gods. “I just need you to sign a few things and you’ll be all ready to open the doors tomorrow.”

Chloe wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, white knuckling the bunch of threads as her hand rested on her chest- it was rising and falling with upmost rhythm. She was staring at the ceiling in what used to be her parent's room- the only four post bed that was still in this place. Others were around, but they were covered in white sheets, white sheets that had dust coating every inch of the place.

This place had been her home. For the longest time, it was where she would curl up after a rough nightmare, or a horrible date. She would cuddle into her mother’s side while she stroked her hair and whispered things in her ear to calm her heart rate.

Now it was cold and desolate. Nothing was in the room except for the queen-sized mattress and an old television that only got three stations. It was sitting on the floor now- turned off because there was no point in flicking it on. A floor length mirror was propped on the parallel edge of the bed, Chloe wanting to cover that too.

Chloe didn’t bother crawling under the blankets. It was too hot in the room, the flashlight heavy in her other hand as she balanced the cool metal weight in her grasp. She ran her fingers along the beaded edge, pressing her fingers into the indentations.

“What are you thinking about?” The muffled voice from the bathroom doorway caught Chloe’s attention. Beca was leaning heavily against it, a toothbrush shoved into her cheek as she struggled not to let the frothy mint spill over her lips.

“Who said I was thinking at all?” She pondered, lifting her eyebrows as she settled In the plush bedding and flicked her stare back up the ceiling.

“Well, you only get that look when you’re thinking,” Beca said, her voice echoing as she walked back into the bathroom, spitting the contents that filled her mouth into the sink with a small grunt. “Or when you’re climaxing, which I certainly hope you’re not doing without me.”

“Beca,” Chloe groaned as her small girlfriend walked back into the room. She nearly dodged a pillow being chucked at her head, instead, she clenched onto the fabric. She let out a small grunt as she flopped down onto the bed next to the taller girl.

“I’m sorry, I know.” She grumbled, running her fingers over the sheets. Her stare moved back up the Chloe’s as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You uh, you’ve had this kind of sick look on your face since this morning… I thought it was the heat, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Chloe let out a thick sigh, not pulling her eyes from the ceiling.

“I’m usually the one to shut myself out, you know?” Beca said, adjusting her position to face the ceiling as well. She let her hand fall close to Chloe’s fingers playing absently with her girlfriends. “I’m used to talking about feelings and-“

“I grew up here.” Was all Chloe said, voice cutting through the room, “It’s not like I didn’t do everything to get out of this place once I had enough money to go off to college I did. And I didn’t look back- not on this house, this town, or my mother… but now that I’m here…”

She trailed off, drawing in a sharp breath. Beca didn’t need her to continue to come to the sudden realization that this was painful for Chloe. She was never good at reading social cues, so she pushed herself into her work and followed every order that Chloe barked out until her arms begged for mercy.

Beca warped her arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her head onto the girl’s chest. The redhead let out a content sigh as she pulled her girl closer to her side, breathing in the scent of mint and ginger that Beca carried.

“Tell me about her,” Beca said, breath hot on Chloe’s skin.

“Hmm?”

“Your mom, tell me about her.” the smaller girl whispered. “If uh… if you want.”

Chloe didn’t say anything for a few long moments. She drew little patterns on the small of Beca’s back, her heartbeat and breath almost lulled the girl into a light sleep. She didn’t want to push Chloe, not now. When she felt a sharp intake of air, she knew she was ready to talk.

“We never really had much money, so she worked two jobs.” She spoke, voice a low murmur. “Most of the time she was a librarian, it didn’t pay much but she loved it. She loved the smell of the books, and the way people would just share a newfound form of peace whenever they walked through the doors. Other than that, she worked at a grocery store. Never really had a day off.

“She took care of me and Annie though, she did… and she kept this house too. For as long as I can remember she always wanted me to keep this place. It was part of the family history, I guess. My grandparents had it under their name before hers, and their parents before them. It’s always been the Beale’s place.”

“Chlo,” Beca started to protest. She didn’t want to push them into this argument again. Even before Beca flew in she had suggested Chloe keep this place. She was so fast to dismiss her, so fast to say that this was holding her back in Georgia. At the soft look she received, she dropped it, though.  

“I don’t feel guilty about selling it,” She said, voice a low grumble “I feel uneasy. But I don’t feel guilty.”      

[writevswrong]

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART ELEVEN

Nessian Part Eleven by L.J. LaFleur 

I can do this. Dinner. I’ve done it many times before. Pushing boundaries, pushing my nerves until I have none. Easy.

I let my hair down, free of braids and decorations. Golden-brown waves flowed to the middle of my back, brushing itself against the dusty purple gown. Plain except for a silver-embroidered star on my left shoulder. Oblong silver beads, trailed down the metallic thread creating the illusion of a shooting star.

The silky dress hugged every curve--from the sleeves down to my knees before flaring out into a semi long train. A fairly high, sheer neckline that revealed my collarbone and a decent amount of cleavage.      

Each step felt like its own battle, but I made it to just outside the dining room. Their voices danced out into the hallway, laughter and unsettling joy. I didn’t understand how they could be so unchanged, untainted by our father’s death. By the war. How could they not feel what I felt? The ever-growing sorrow not just for our father, but the fallen too. Instead of trying to understand, I walked into the dining room.

Voices died down, an exchange of odd looks around the table but one.

Cassian dropped his fork, his jaw soon following before Azriel lifted it back up. His eyes bored into mine, after ravaging me from head to toe.

“I’m sorry to intrude…” I started, feeling uneasy by their stares—maybe I shouldn’t have come.  

“You’re not.” Cassian spoke before anyone could, unable to peel his eyes off of me.

I felt my heart skip, no, stop. It literally sunk into my stomach as I took in his staggering appearance. Cassian’s massive wings looked freshly clean, his wavy obsidian hair combed and released to his shoulders. He was a sea of fire, of untouchable beauty that I wished to see more of.  

But something was off, I held his attention, noticing the damage—the pain in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. I looked away, my eyes drifting downwards, scanning over the growing circles beneath his beautiful eyes. Descending towards his wings, retracing the countless scars...  

“Sit by me,” Amren interrupted.

My focus shifted from Cassian to the petite devil then back at the haunted warrior. I didn’t reply, instead I clenched my jaw—fighting the onslaught of words that wanted to race out of me.

“We have much to catch up on,” Amren purred, patting her seat. Her silver eyes flickering with delight as she looked between me and Cassian.  

It took every bit of energy to look away from his copper shields. I sat in between Amren and Rhysand. Conversations continued while I loaded my porcelain plate with mixed vegetables and a mini loaf of bread. I didn’t dare glance up at him, I knew he still hadn’t looked away.

I examined the spread on the table, a pile of mixed bloody meat was pushed down by Mor. The contents of my stomach spun as the images flooded my view. I took a deep breath, pushing the flashes of the broken and buried out of sight, out of mind.  

“Locking yourself in a tower is no way to win a fight,” Amren spoke to me dryly, her petite fingers gliding over her ruby necklace.

I swallowed a bite of steamed carrot, “neither is escaping to the Summer Court for romantic affairs.”

Amren’s hollow snicker silenced the room. They stared between me and her, probably wondering who would spike the other first.

“Fearless,” Rhysand joined in, taking a sip of his wine as he looked between me and Amren.

“Not in the least bit,” I replied with an edge so sharp, I was sure to strike blood. My eyes narrowed at Rhysand only to quickly soften at his blank expression.

I take it you’re still mad? Rhysand shoved past my mental shields. It’s not like you two were actually…

Don’t. Don’t say or think anything. Just promise you won’t speak of it.

He gave a slight nod.

Thank you…High Lord.

Rhysand’s low chuckle was cut short by a kiss on the cheek from Feyre, pulling his attention to the other side of the table.  

Amren pushed her food from one edge of the plate to the other. Her fork scraping against the porcelain as she studied me.    

I let out a shallow breath and focused on the pile of peas. “Will Varian be…”

“Skipping the meat?” Cassian interrupted from across the wooden table.

I raised my head to look at him, taken back by his own formal attire, “I would hate to spoil my figure.” I lied. It took what remaining willpower I had left to look away from him again. I slid my fingers over the mini loaf then stabbed my nails into it for a distraction.  

Cassian’s voice dropped as if for only me to hear, “or spoil your heart?”

“Do you enjoy pushing me?” I asked ripping apart the bread with more strength than necessary. Ignoring the rest of the table, we spoke with daggers at the tips of our tongues.

“I enjoy a match with an equal,” Cassian quipped with a shrug as he wiped his mouth clean of wine, a smirk igniting.

“We are not equals,” I warned him with a glare, further tearing the loaf to pieces with fragile hands.

Cassian’s smirk smoothed into a thin line, “right, right, right. How could I forget, I’m a bastard?” He held his hands in the air, before settling them back down on the table.

“Yes, that too. But that’s not the only reason.” I released the leftover pieces of bread, dusting off the remaining crumbs. My hands instinctively reached for my knife and fork, slicing into a potato. Anything for a distraction--I would give my left arm for a diversion right now.  

He leaned back in his seat, bracing himself on the arms of the upholstered chair. “Well, spike my interest, why don’t you? How are we not equals, lovely Nesta?”

Mor glanced between us, her figure rigid as she chewed on her food.

“You prefer weapons over words, lies over promises and…” I hesitated, releasing my knife and fork--unsure of how to push him away further. I looked from him to Mor who was silently fuming and back to him again, “…armor over affection.”

Cassian’s chest sunk in, his jaw tightened. “This coming from a woman who only knows how to push people away.”

“Yes,” I hastily stood up from the table, heat raced to my palms. I could feel the beginning of my unleashing.  

A subtle smirk grazed his wine stained lips, “I’m not the only one who chooses armor over affection…Nes.”

I felt a weight drop onto my gut, crushing the breath out of me. The fire circled, faster and faster—I needed to leave. “Hopefully the wine will soothe your guilt. Excuse me,” I coldly announced with a raised chin, looking down the brim of my nose at him.

As soon as I turned the corner, out of sight of the dining room, I ran up the stairs back to the bedroom. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I should have just sat there and ate like the rest of them. But no, instead, I chose to spar with the commander of all pricks. He could always wind me up, always make me lose my breath—lose control.  

He had looked so cleaned up, so formal. I wasn’t sure why, but it stunned me. Cassian’s neatly brushed black waves fell against his formal iron tunic. He even shaved…either way he was devastatingly attractive and I hated it. I hated him.  

Something was wrong though, he didn’t—he didn’t have that light in his eyes like he usually did. A piece of him missing, a small piece but large enough for me to notice it’s absence.  

I paced wildly until I calmed down.

The perfectly even shelf on the wall caught my attention. I looked closer, noticing something I had never seen before. There was a carved flower beneath it—I looked underneath, it was a magnolia. I slid my fingers over the carving, following the petals to the center. My fingers traced over a sun and within the sun, a crescent moon. Who, who carved this beauty? And where did it come from? And why was a simple shelf striking my fancy?

Book in hand, I retreated to the bed. Tales from the Sea, it was a collection of stories—mysteries mainly, about what lurked beneath the deadly water. I opened to the first page, the story of some young woman meeting a captivating mermaid. I had read this story hundreds of times, so reading this again should be easy.

“I am not weak,” I said under my breath, holding open the hardcover with determination.  

Once, in a sea long lost by shifting continents. A woman of beauty and untold knowledge, drifted during her nightly stroll. Enchanted by…

The letters started to shake, vibrating violently on the pages. Feyre’s face flashed before me, then my mothers. I dropped the book in reaction, my heart thundering so loud I thought it would burst. The pages splayed out, hand drawn pictures of various creatures’ man once imagined and put to ink and page.

I didn’t bother picking up the book, I feared it. I feared my first love. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, hiding beneath the endless sea I had wanted to read so desperately about. Candles instead of faelights had lit themselves, providing a distant hazy-orange glow while I changed into a sheer mauve nightgown. I had wondered who picked out all of these, fearing it could have been Cassian—out for revenge and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Lying in bed felt odd, conflicting even. There were more than enough possibilities of nightmares, mainly ones that involved him.

A bright light crossed my window, I turned quickly—fearing that I may have fallen asleep already and that this was the start of my hell. Another light flashed by, shooting stars. After counting five shooting stars, they had stopped. I stared out the window, counting the stationary ones to pass the time.

But eventually I slipped…into a darkness so deep, I wasn’t sure if I would ever come out of it. The whispers sung to me, clung to me. They pulled at my sheer nightgown, dragging me down further until I couldn’t breathe. The cauldron.  It felt like I was sinking back in, drowning in sulfur and shadows.

Talons ripped through my fingers, exploding skin off of my bones as I transformed in the dark. The radiating light beamed off of me, scaring the chuckling shadows away. Breathing heavily, I waited for their return but only received silence. I tried to move forward but hit an invisible wall. Every movement was the same, no matter which way—I was stuck.  

A burst of anxious flames erupted from my core, spreading throughout my body, interweaving itself between flesh and bone.

“Nesta!” He called to me.

I tried to speak but only screeches left my newly formed mouth.

“Where are you?!” Cassian yelled again, this time walking towards the swallowing shadows. “Nesta!”

Another attempt and only a foreign noise left my razor-sharp beak. I cried amber drops of fire, begging for him to hear me. Without thinking, my talons pushed against the invisible barrier between me and his voice. Shoving itself further until I punctured it. I screamed, the only noise I knew in this body. I screamed and screamed, begging for him to return—to not walk any further into the hissing laughter.

The copper specks in Cassian’s eyes reflected with fire. He stepped backward, turning to see where I had begun to shred at the wall, like the image was clearer in that section than the rest. Cassian ran towards me, his calloused hands pressing against the wall between us.

“Stay back,” he cautioned, throwing his weight into it--pushing and pulling. He barely made a budge.

My eyes widened in fear as the whispers sung to me. They were coming for him.  

“Leave,” I begged, finding my voice again. “Leave me,” I croaked as I gained strength in my unfamiliar vocal chords.  

“Like hell,” Cassian pulled the blade from his back, slicing into the wall with difficulty.

“Nesta Archeon, the Cauldron Thief,” they began their chant.

I looked from him to where the singing shadows filtered in. “Cassian, please. Run...go…” I choked, scratching at the wall. “I need you to run,” I beseeched.

He didn’t stop slicing at the cage as he glanced up at me, “I told you, I wouldn’t…” Another blow to the wall, “…leave.”

My frustration rose, as did the roaring flames encircling me. “Stop being a proud bastard and go!” I shouted while staring at his determined expression.

Cassian shook his head; obsidian strands fell out of his low bun. “Fight it. Whatever the hell it is, Nesta. Fight!” He bellowed, slamming the sword into the shield, his siphons illuminating the black abyss as he drained his power.

Shadow monsters hissed away from his siphons, their singing halted.

I helped rip at the wall between us, gutting into it to reach him before the shadows returned.

“Nesta Archeon, Cauldron Thief and Fire Gryphon,” his slithering voice snuck through the hole in the wall between me and Cassian.

“Is that…?” Cassian ducked in time before Hybern could decapitate him.

Without another thought or doubt, my wings of fire and talons of destruction ripped through the cage. The rotting corpse of Hybern hoarsely laughed as I blocked him from Cassian.

“Hello, Cassian.” Hybern snickered as he looked over my deathly wings then turned his attention back to the warrior behind me. “Looking well, I see. Even after failing your beloved human girl.”

I glared at Hybern, screeching so loud he covered his ears.

“You can’t escape everything in death, I guess.” Hybern shook his head in irritation, his fallen skin shaking more so.

Cassian’s siphons glowed brighter, creating a shield between us and Hybern.

“Commander, that’s highly unnecessary—don’t you think?” Hybern snapped his fingers, exploding the crimson barrier with ease.

“What do you want?” I hissed, still trying to keep Cassian behind me. He didn’t bother, quickly returning to my side.

Hybern rolled his milky eyes, “by the cauldron, you are one ignorant girl. I want you.”

“No,” Cassian growled, raising his Illyrian sword.

Hybern clicked his tongue, “if you don’t come with me. I’ll kill him.”

Energy circled inside, my talons twitching, “I killed you once, doing it again won’t be as difficult.”

“If you say so,” Hybern shrugged coolly, lifting his rotting finger.  

A bolt of silver light raced towards Cassian. Until it slowed down, everything slowed down as I stepped in front of him—expanding my flaming wings in time to conceal him. Cassian’s eyes expanded as the arrow of magic crushed into me, forcing the breath out of my lungs.

Hybern scoffed, shifting his hand from side to side as he examined his spoiled flesh. “Damn magic. So finicky in the afterlife.”

I stared down at Cassian, my breathing ragged. “Please, run,” I gasped, I begged.

Cassian’s eyes hardened, his teeth grinding. “Wake up, you can do this. Just wake up,” he pleaded, holding onto the sides of my monstrous face.

I shook my head, fiery tears leaking out of me, “you’ll die.”

“Not if you wake up,” he shook his head, wiping his thumb against my flaming tears. I watched as his skin didn’t burn.

He didn’t burn.

I turned around, blocking him again as I launched myself at Hybern—pushing him into the waiting shadows. His gut wrenching screams echoed through the dark as shadows gobbled him whole.

My body collapsed to a bluestone floor, still in the form of the Gryphon.

Cassian knelt beside me, “you can do this, Nesta.”

“I can’t,” I mumbled, feeling a weight press down onto my spine and feathered wings.  

“Don’t give up--not now.” He watched, trying to help lift me. “Wake up!” He yelled, unable to pull me up.  

“I…I can’t.” I whimpered as I looked away, trying to upright myself. The weight pushed further, crushing me against the stone. The burning wings receded in between my shoulder blades. Flaming talons disappearing within flesh. I cried at the searing pain of transforming back into myself.  

Cassian crouched down beside me, his siphons flickering out of power. “If you won’t wake up for your sisters, for yourself…then please…” his voice cracked, “please come back to me.” His hoarse voice strained further, “wake up for me.”

I turned my head to face him, peering up at the Illyrian who fought time and death for me. The shaking of his lips, the glistening of his beautiful hazel eyes. I pushed against the weight, focusing on him and only him.  

“Come back to me, Nesta.” Cassian whispered, wrapping his rough hand around mine.  

I screamed, closing my eyes as I pushed against the unbearable weight that crushed me. I made it to my knees before it nearly smashed me back down. I dared another look at him, before I died—I wanted him to be the last face I saw. If I was going to go, I only wished to see him one last time.

“No, you’re not leaving me,” he argued, refusing to accept my silent goodbye. “I…Nesta, I…fuck!” Cassian’s voice shook. “You’re not dying on me,” he cursed again, sweat forming down his face as he tried to push against the invisible weight with me.  

Another guttural scream as I pushed up, every last bit of magic and energy. Every last thought of good, of his family-- my family. Of Amren, Mor, Azriel, Rhysand, Elain, Feyre and him. I put into that last shove against death.

Exploding light blinded me, clearing out the overwhelming darkness. I felt his sweaty, calloused hands wrap around my back and legs--lifting me to his solid chest. I still hadn’t opened my eyes, in fear that I failed, that I lost them all. I was set on a soft cushion, swiftly covered with a silky throw.

I dared a look, it was a massive library. Filled with thousands if not millions of novels ranging in sizes and colors. The minor wall spaces were painted in a light rose color, trimmed with magnolia petals. Three enormous, arched windows were on my right, overlooking an orchard of magnolia trees. I hesitantly sat up, sinking further into the pale blue cushions.

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian admitted, tearing his eyes away from the windows. The lines on his face softened, revealing a vulnerability I had never witnessed from him before. “You’re beautiful,” he uttered, not daring to look below my jaw line.  

“Cassian…” I breathed, my heart shrinking as I stood. Magic tingled in the air, forming an indigo chiffon dress to piece around me.

He was alive. He was here and breathing. I didn’t kill him, I didn’t lose him.

“Before you wake up, before this moment ends, I…” he struggled to speak, like his tongue had fallen down his throat.  

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know if he finished or not. Studying closely, I could see discoloration on his hands, scarlet markings throughout his armor. Before I could speak my concern, he stroked his calloused thumb over his lower lip then down to his chin.

“Why do you have Naga markings on your back,” Cassian’s eyes fluttered toward me then down to my covered shoulder as he dropped his hand to his side. “What, what happened to you?” His voice stuttered, dripping with barely-controlled rage.

I walked towards him, standing beside the Illyrian warrior as I stared out the window. We both studied a gentle wind blowing the creamy white and pink magnolia petals. I took a deep breath, the loudest sound in the unwavering silence between us. We retreated into the memory, no longer standing in the extensive library.

We were in the heavily wooded forest, just outside the wall of Prythian. He stayed silent as he watched another version of me, the human, head towards the wall. I followed another woman towards the hole between this world and the next.

“You can’t be serious,” the rugged woman interrupted my thoughts. “You will not last a day beyond the wall.”

Our boots crunched into the thick snow, as we pressed forward. Barren trees, frosty winds and heavy gray clouds sinking downwards—smothering us with intricate flakes.

“You’re paid to take me there. Not give advice.” I snapped at her, pulling on the sides of my cloak to close it tighter. My nearly blue lips quivered from the cold; falling snow stuck to me like flames to wood.

The tracker jutted her chin forward, “it’s not advice, it’s a warning, girl.”

“That beast has my sister.” I turned wildly, the boiling fury within me threatening to burn her.

“Then she is gone. Forget her, forget your death sentence and go home.”

I halted before turning on my heel again, throwing a menacing glare. “You will take me to the wall. That is what you are paid for. That monster has my sister. I will find her. I will get her back. And I will murder the son of a bitch who took her.”

The woman’s severely aged face drained of color, her shoulders shrinking. “I’m only trying to save you.” The moldy green of her eyes faded with shame and warning.

“I died many moons ago,” I spat at the heavily armed woman. “There’s no one to save but her,” I mumbled, huffing as another gust of ice shredded my face. “Let’s keep moving. The snow will only get worse.”

“We’re here,” she sighed.  

“What?” I spoke through my shivering teeth.

“Go through there--between those two trees,” she pointed to the skinniest birch trees in sight. “You’ll be there.”

I didn’t say thank you nor did I ask for any last words of wisdom, I hadn’t even bothered to ask her name. I only stared at the cowardice woman—handing her a discolored pouch of my remaining coins.

The Fae tracker left with her money, leaving me to find Feyre on my own. I stepped through the trees, holding my breath as if I were going under water.

My foot crushed several sticks as I stepped through. No snow? There was no snow, in fact it was warm. Much warmer than the other side of the wall. I pulled my other foot through, letting the snow melt off of me in the set of new woods I had entered.

Similar trees, similar landscape—but in a constant state of spring. Yellow and violet flowers I had only seen Elain garden during that time of year were sprinkled throughout the forest floor. I removed my worn hood, cautiously stepping forward, unsure of which direction to start in but choosing west anyways.

We followed my human self, Cassian beside me as he silently observed every detail of the memory. A snap from the east echoed against the tree trunks. His body going still, a trained hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Hello?” I called out, “Feyre?” I asked hopefully.

I looked around frantically as more and more sticks snapped around me.

“Is it you, beast?” I raised my blade, a rusted old knife that father had once treasured. “Where is she?” I demanded with a ruthless glare.

“I am no beast,” it’s humorless laughter sent an ice dagger through me. “I will grind your bones between my claws; I will drink your marrow; I will feast on your flesh. I am what you fear; I am what you dread... Look at me. Look at me.” It sung with a hiss.

I turned madly, my knife at the ready for whatever horrible monster lay wait for me.

“There you are…” it sung with menacing delight.

“No…” I whispered, turning to see my mother before me.

“Nesta, my darling, Nes. I’ve missed you…” my mother wept, her pale hands raising towards me for us to embrace.

“You’re dead,” I raised my knife at the woman in front of me.

“Nes, I’m alive. I was taken. That’s all…but I’m here, darling. We can go home now.” She stalked closer, her blue-gray eyes crushed into me. Feyre, she looked so much like her.

“Stay away!” I yelled, my crumbling face turned ghostly white. “Stay the hell away from me,” tears drained down my face, a snarl forming on my chapped lips.

“Is that anyway to talk to your mother?” her voice darkened, “the one who cared for you? Who loved you unconditionally?”

“You’re nothing but a monster.” I whimpered as she stepped closer, I shuffled backwards--careful not to fall. The blade shook in my hand as I continued to point at the demon before me.

Screeches and howls in the distance rushed for us.

“Naga,” the creature hissed, disappearing into the woods.

I nearly dropped the blade, panicking as I looked from where my mother had once stood to where seven new creatures had appeared. I didn’t bother to look at all of them before running. As quickly as I possibly could, cursing the many layers of skirts.

These Naga creatures pulled at me with their sable talons, ripping at my cloak and skirts as I shrieked through the woods. I needed to get back to the wall, to the opening but I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t remember which trees I had entered through. They all looked the same.

Amber eyes stood out against bodies of tar and decomposing scales. I tried to outrun them, a pack of wild, death-dealing fairies. The Naga trapped me. Three behind, two in front and one on either side of me.

My gut swirled as I watched their scale-like rotting bodies circle me, pushing me down into the ground. I crawled backwards, until my back hit one of their slimy legs. I screamed, as the creature stroked its talon against my reddened cheek. Their hollow laughter echoed between them, serpent tongues slithering out of their sharpened mouths.

They tore at my clothes until I wore nothing, splaying me on my stomach—spreading my legs and arms. I tried to fight them, to pull away from them but I couldn’t fight. I wasn’t strong enough.  

I stole a look at Cassian, the animalistic face he was making crushed me. He wanted to rip them apart, to make them suffer for every touch. Annihilate their kind until they were only horrors of the past. I didn’t doubt that he could, that he would. Because he would do it for anyone.    

As their hissing laughter continued, two others grabbed me by my wrists and ankles to hold me down further. I wanted to turn away, but instead I watched as the leader slashed into my human form. Striking my back, I screamed, pulling against their death grips. I screamed so loud that it nearly deafened me to the oncoming roars of another creature. The pack of Naga ran, leaving me on the forest floor with a ripped open back.

Crimson tidal waves gushed out of me as I cried in pain.

“I told you not to follow us,” he growled, transforming from familiar beast to High Fae. Tamlin’s long blond hair flowed down his shoulders, his mask covering majority of his face.  

“She’s…” it hurt to talk, to breathe, “my sister.” I gasped as more blood flooded out. I could hardly process what I had witnessed—his shapeshifting.

“Your sister broke the laws of the treaty,” Tamlin replied nonchalantly.

“Only,” I winced, “because I did not…go.” Another breath of agony escaped me. “Take me,” I demanded through gritted teeth.

“In her place?” Tamlin laughed. “Why now?” He asked curiously, examining my torn flesh.

“I’ll be your slave in…” I couldn’t finish my sentence as I coughed up a scarlet mess.

“She’s not a slave, she’s our savior,” his lips twitched defensively. Tamlin watched my fingers clasp down on the bed of leaves and flowers beneath me, crushing them within my fists.

I stole a look at him, the kidnapping beast from hell. “You’re a monster,” I retorted, feeling my lungs fill with a crimson flood.

Tamlin’s lips twisted, “not as much as you. I heard all about the abuse your youngest sister endured.”

“I protected her.”

“How so? Through cruelty?”

“Our mother,” I winced again, “I protected her from our mother.” I released the grass between my fingers, simultaneously releasing the torturous memories of her. Uncontrollable guilt combusted inside me. I protected her from our mother, but not from our father’s shit luck—and not from my own cruelty. My own pain.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t need you to,” I muttered, turning my head to look at him but instead I looked past his broad shoulders, towards the clearing filled with stars. The ones I had counted as a young girl, wishing upon them for love and a promising future. How they must laugh at my grim fate.    

Tamlin stepped forward, blocking my view with a smug smile on his face. “I will not take you in her place. She’s been chosen to break the curse.”

“What curse?” I asked, a wave of nausea rolled through me. The burning sensation of vomit filled my throat. I turned away from him, throwing up whatever remnants of food I had left inside.                        

“Amarantha’s cur…” Tamlin replied distracted by my dry heaving. His eyes enlarged beneath his mask as he stopped himself.

I tilted my head towards him, realizing I had a weapon—a secret.

Tamlin’s upper lip twitched, his brows drawing together. “You’ll die before telling anyone.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I breathed in deep, another gag from the unbearable pain causing scarlet to seep between my teeth. “You’re not the only creature that’s stumbled upon me out here.” I swallowed another gush of crimson, “I will get her back.”

Tamlin’s fearful face transformed into something far more wicked, absolute steel. “You don’t deserve to be loved by anyone,” he sneered. “From this day forth, until this bond is broken, you will speak to no one of this. You will only remember your mother and her actions when you see, Feyre. You will only see pain when looking at your sisters. And by some strange turn of events, if you are to ever find true love, you will be unable to obtain it. Unable to unleash yourself to fully feel it. Leaving not only yourself a broken shell, but your mate as well.”

I tried to speak of Amarantha’s curse, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak, I looked up at him in absolute horror. Another attempt as I tried to say Naga, my mouth sealed shut momentarily.

Tamlin crossed his arms. “You have two options. The first, I will heal you, I will let you live. I will take care of Feyre--marry her--love her far better than your family ever could. But you will never try to find her again, you will live your life in complete ignorance of her.”

I gurgled blood, coughing more up onto the forest floor. Flowers and minor sticks, glued themselves to me with the crimson mess that dripped out of my mouth.

“The second, if you attempt to make contact with her, I will return you to the Naga’s regular feeding ground. Not only will Feyre remain with me, but I will retrieve your precious, Elain.”

“Fuck. You.” I coughed again, bracing my sweaty forehead against a bed of moss and bloodstained flowers. They duplicated, into a dozen images as the blood loss took its toll.  

Tamlin chortled, a smirk growing, “let’s see if you change your mind after a night in the woods.”

“I’ll be dead anyways, remember?” I barked to the best of my ability.

“Not yet,” he held his hands over my back, healing me just enough that I wouldn’t immediately die but not enough to move--to run. “I’ll leave you here to think on it. See you in the morning, that’s if another creature doesn’t find you before then.”

Cassian’s roar vibrated against my frail bones as he watched Tamlin walk away from my near-lifeless body. His bronze muscles flexed as he attempted to control himself. Hungry for another blood bath, hazel slits dripped with fury.  

I reached for his trembling hand, “Cass…” I breathed.

In case you missed the previous parts...

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

[glittership]

Episode #71 — "Barbara in the Frame" by Emmalia Harrington

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Episode 71 is part of the Summer 2018 issue!

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  Barbara in the Frame

by Emmalia Harrington

    Bab’s stomach growled for the third time in five minutes. “You were right,” she said, pushing away from her desk, “It’s time for a break.”

Summer classes meant papers and tests smashed close together. There was hardly time to get enough sleep, let alone shop on a regular basis. The only food in her dorm room was an orange. Bab picked it up and walked to her dresser, where the portrait of Barbara, her grandfather’s great-aunt, sat.

  Full story after the cut.

  Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip Episode 71 for April 15, 2019! This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story for today is “Barbara in the Frame” by Emmalia Harrington read by

Before we get started, a reminder that there’s still a Tiptree Honor Book sale going on for the GlitterShip Year One and Year Two anthologies on gumroad! Just go to gumroad.com/keffy and use the coupon code “tiptree,” that’s t-i-p-t-r-e-e to get the ebooks for $5 each.

Emmalia Harrington is a nonfiction writer, librarian and student with a deep love of speculative fiction. She hopes to have many more publications under her belt. In the meantime she continues to plug away at her novel and short stories. Her work has previously appeared in Cast of Wonders, FIYAH and is upcoming in other venues. She is a member of Broad Universe and volunteers with the Speculative Literature Foundation.

Khaalidah Muhammad-Ali is a writer, editor and narrator.

Her publications include Apex Magazine, Strange Horizons, Fiyah Magazine and others. Her fiction has been featured in The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year: Volume 12 edited by Jonathan Strahan and The Best Science Fiction of the Year: Volume Three edited by Neil Clarke.

You can hear her narrations at any of the four Escape Artists podcasts, Far Fetched Fables, and Strange Horizons.

She can be found online at http://khaalidah.com.

  Barbara in the Frame

by Emmalia Harrington

    Bab’s stomach growled for the third time in five minutes. “You were right,” she said, pushing away from her desk, “It’s time for a break.”

Summer classes meant papers and tests smashed close together. There was hardly time to get enough sleep, let alone shop on a regular basis. The only food in her dorm room was an orange. Bab picked it up and walked to her dresser, where the portrait of Barbara, her grandfather’s great-aunt, sat.

She put a segment in her mouth and gagged. “Sorry,” she said, spitting the fruit into her hand. Bab forced it down on the fifth attempt.

Aunt Barbara’s portrait frowned and glanced at the bookcase. The clothbound spine of Auntie’s handwritten cookbook stood out among the glossy college texts.

“You know it’s too early for the kitchen,” Bab kept her eyes on the shelves and away from her aunt. “Those girls will be there.”

Even looking away, Auntie’s disappointment made her wilt. Bab retreated to her desk to choke down the rest of her fruit. “I’m safer here,” she said as she wiped her hands. “It’s just you, me and a locked door.” She closed her eyes, imagining what diet could sustain her until the cafeteria opened for the autumn. Carrots lasted days without refrigeration, and if she soaked oatmeal overnight, it would be soft enough for breakfast.

Auntie’s book said food was more potent when shared. It had nothing like the recipes the other girls loved to make for their Soul Food Sundays. Placing succotash next to their cheese grits and fried okra was little better than exposing her whole self.

“Remember when I came home from the hospital?” Bab asked, turning back to her aunt. “I was so skinny Dad and Papa wouldn’t let me see you.” She gave a thin smile. “They thought seeing me would crack your frame.”

Her throat shrank at the memories. The bureaucracy at her old college insisted on using the name and gender on her birth certificate and stuck her in the boys’ dorms. Her roommates alternated between hitting on her and punching inches from her head when she rebuffed them. One loved spiking her food with hot sauce and worse. After a few weeks she couldn’t sip water without panicking; a full meal was impossible.

“None of that will happen here.” Bab cracked her knuckles and tried to type as memories of the last year washed over her. This women’s college’s administration accepted Bab for who she was, name and all. She still felt safer keeping to herself.

That midnight, she entered the kitchen with cookies on her mind. She pulled out her baking sheet and spices before she came to her senses. Food never worked right in an unconsecrated space.

After several deep breaths, she was scrubbing the counter and attempting to meditate. Incense was not allowed on campus, but would have done wonders to erase the pork and garlic scent left over from the soul food dinner. Even when her dormmates weren’t there, they were reminding her how she wasn’t. Curvy figures to her still-underweight frame. Cornrows and other cute hairstyles while hers couldn’t grow longer than peach fuzz without breaking combs.

Bab bit her tongue. A clear mind was the best way to perform a ritual.

A pristine table and stovetop later, she was assembling Auntie’s happiness cookies. Rice flour provided security and cloves purified the mind and heart. Cinnamon brought comfort and strengthened the power of the other ingredients. Mix with water to create a dough, pop them in the oven for fifteen minutes and suffer from anticipation. Tidying right away added power to the food and gave them time to cool, even if the aroma of fresh cookies filled her mouth with drool.

Back in her room, there were things she needed to do before eating. She paid homage to Aunt Barbara, placing the nicest smelling piece by her picture frame. Next was covering her desk in a clean towel in lieu of a tablecloth and folding a pretty bandanna into a napkin. A duct tape flower decorated the space. After a prayer of thanks, she took her first bite.

At first, it tasted like a cracker in need of dip. As she chewed, spices spread through her mouth and into her nose. Tension fell from her shoulders and neck. The more she ate, the more her cookie took on an extra flavor she couldn’t describe. The closest she could get was “a hug from the whole family.”

When she checked on her aunt, Barbara’s cookie was gone, crumbs and all.

College was a never-ending battle between sleeping in and being on time for class. Bab had just enough time to pull on jeans and run to the Humanities Building, cursing herself with every step. Life was hard enough as is, she shouldn’t make it worse by writing papers after 2am.

By pinching the back of her hand, she stayed awake all through the lesson. The effect faded as she headed to the bathroom, where she fought not to drift off on the toilet.

She was washing up when a familiar voice went “I said ‘Hey!’” It was Jen, dormmate and Political Science/Africana Studies major, standing between her and the exit.

Bab stretched her lips into a smile. “Not working today?”

Jen laughed and shook her head. The beads tipping her braids tinkled as she moved. Bab wished she had a scarf to hide her own hair. “My internship with the Congresswoman is this afternoon. I’m between classes now.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Bab hoped the other girl didn’t notice the wobble in her voice.

“There’s time yet.” Jen headed for the water closets and paused. “You’re the reason the kitchen smelled so good this morning?”

Bab forgot how to breathe. Nodding had to do.

“Will you come next Sunday? The three of us can’t make dessert to save ourselves.” Without waiting for an answer, Jen entered a stall. The sliding lock sounded like a guillotine blade.

It was all Bab could do to run to her next seminar. Terror percolated inside her, tightening her throat until she couldn’t get a lungful. The Number Systems for School Teachers lecture passed in a haze of greying vision. At her next course, the professor took one look at her and ordered her to rest.

Back in her room, Bab spent an endless time curled on her bed, fighting for air. Clattering from the dresser pulled Bab out of herself enough to check the noise’s source. Auntie’s picture had fallen.

“Thanks,” she returned to the bed, hugging the portrait like a teddy bear. Her heart bumping against the frame’s glass made a double beat, Auntie’s pulse moving in time with hers. Bab’s airway relaxed, and her head cleared enough to grab last night’s cookies.

“What should I do?” she said after filling Auntie in on the bathroom encounter. “Dad and Papa couldn’t teach me black girl stuff. Jen and her friends have way more practice than me.” She took a bite. “If I change my mind, they’ll know something’s up, but if they get to know me, they’ll be just like my boy roommates and…” Aunt Barbara was pursing her lips.

“You haven’t heard Jen, Maria and Tanya speak. Their majors are going to help them ‘change the world.’” Bab stuck her chest out, superhero style.

Auntie raised her eyebrows.

“I know becoming a teacher’s important,” she sighed. “But tell that to people outside my department. Anyway, that’s not the main reason they’ll hate me.” She glanced at Auntie’s cookbook. “On Sundays the kitchen smells like those TV shows with sassy mothers who teach girls how to cook the ‘real way.’” She made finger quotes. “Nothing like what we eat at home. They’ll take one look at my food and treat me like my old roommates.” Her stomach twisted. “I don’t want to go to the hospital again.”

Finishing the cookie kept the worst throat swelling away. She still felt like barricading herself until graduation.

Light glinted from the portrait. When Bab took a closer look, Auntie met her eyes. Aunt Barbara resembled a professor, stern but caring. If photos could speak, Bab would be getting a speech on conquering fear.

The eye lecture finished with Auntie glancing in the direction of her book. Bab crossed the room, picked it up, and flipped through the dessert section. She doubted grapenut pudding would go over well. Apple-cheddar pie might work, but she wasn’t masochistic enough to make crust from scratch. Hermits seemed easy enough, but the next recipe stopped her cold.

Froggers. Above the recipe, Aunt Barbara had written a few notes about Lucretia Brown, the inventor. Bab read and reread the page before saying “They might like it.”

Summer lessons meant more homework and less time. Bab spent her free days camped in the library, reading hundreds of pages worth of assignments before trudging back to her room to bang out papers.

She peeked from her window before going outside. Maria, a Soul Food Sunday girl, wasn’t out running laps. Bab headed to the library, wiping sweat off her palms every couple of steps. If the Pre-Law/Economics student wasn’t marathoning, she was on work-study. Bab needed to find a secluded corner to avoid detection.

Maria was nowhere near the front desk when Bab checked out her classes’ reserve texts. She walked the opposite way from the book return cart, in case the girl was shelving. Bab spent the next two hours in the clear until it came time to make copies. The other girl was bent over loading paper into the machine, looking more voluptuous than Bab could hope to be.

Bab closed her eyes, praying to avoid a repeat of yesterday. “Hey.” Maybe starting the conversation would help.

The other girl yelped, whirling around and overbalancing. Bab rushed to steady her, half-wondering if she landed in a romantic comedy.

Maria’s face flushed redder than her shirt. “I didn’t see you.”

It was Bab’s turn to freeze. She studied the wall behind the other girl’s head as she tried to form words.

“Oh! You’re coming Sunday,” Maria sounded relieved. “We can talk then.” She stepped away from Bab and hurried to the front desk.

Two hours and five textbooks later, Bab emerged from the library, dazed. Motor memory led her to the campus coffee shop, where she ordered a red eye. She needed the caffeine to unfry her brain and conduct decent extracurricular research.

Maria was nowhere to be found when Bab walked to the reference librarian’s desk. There wasn’t too much on Lucretia Brown, but what existed came from places like the Smithsonian. The state historical society had a series of frogger recipes as well as official documents on Brown’s business. Bab’s coffee went cold as she pored over the papers.

“What do you think, Auntie?” Bab asked that night. “Those three might hate them because they have ‘frog’ in the name.”

Aunt Barbara didn’t react. Bab twisted her hands and continued. “I found a zillion ways to make froggers. Some I don’t have to buy a ton of new ingredients for. One is similar to your happiness cookies and isn’t very sweet. They’ll think I was lying about making dessert. Another’s fried, not baked. Those three…” She drifted off as Auntie wrinkled her nose.

“What do you think I should do?” Bab said, hoping Auntie wouldn’t give the obvious answer. She gave Bab a hard stare. “I can’t do that,” Bab said, backing away. “I’m safer not making friends.” She bumped into her bed.

Auntie looked miserable. Bab stroked the picture frame before returning to fretting. Silently this time.

Every recipe called for allspice, which promoted luck, success and health. It was also quite masculine. Bab wasn’t keen on infusing virility in herself or the others. Liquor united the feminine elements of water and earth, but she was too young to buy the rum froggers required. Bab prayed rum extract with its high alcohol content was an acceptable substitute. Auntie’s book had nothing to say about the power of molasses. Maybe it took after its sister sugar in terms of protection and enhancement. It could also be a soul food ingredient, though Bab was too afraid to check.

Spices were never cheap. Bab spent the next few days outside of class in the city. Ethnic enclaves had spices at better cost than supermarkets, and she was going to find the best prices. She always went on foot to channel bus fare into grocery cash. Her feet swelled until she could barely pull her shoes off at night, but she got all the seasonings she needed, plus extra rice flour.

By Saturday afternoon, Bab recovered enough to limp to the market nearest to the dorms. Butter was easy enough to find, but molasses and extract remained elusive, no matter how many times she wandered Aisle 5. Between her focus on the shelves and her still complaining legs, she didn’t notice company until she bumped into them.

Bab’s heart froze when she realized who she crashed into. Tanya was Jen and Maria’s buddy, a Business/Chemistry major and heir to a cosmetics firm that made products for black women. She might have been in jeans and ponytail, but her skin glowed and her hair smelled of jasmine and coconut oil.

“I’m sorry!” Bab couldn’t apologize fast enough. “I should have seen you-”

Tanya waved her hand. “I ran into you. Let me make up for it.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of papers. “Have a coupon.”

Bab reached for the offering, doing her best not to brush Tanya’s fingers. She didn’t want to piss the girl off by mistake. There were discounts on powdered soup, meal replacement shakes, frozen dinners…

“Mind if I have this one?” Bab held up a voucher for oranges.

Tanya shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll get scurvy.”

Bab’s grin felt foreign on her mouth. “They’re also great for clearing the mind and cheering you up.”

The other girl raised an eyebrow, something Bab had yet to master. “Isn’t that what chocolate’s for?”

Bab’s cheeks burned, but before she could answer, Tanya said, “Maybe I’ll get some chocolate peanut butter this week. They taste good with strawberry Caffeine Bombs.” She waved goodbye. Bab couldn’t decide whether to stare at her, or her basket of white bread and neon drinks.

She resumed her search for the remaining ingredients, trying to imagine what Auntie would think of Tanya’s cuisine. There could be rage, terror, or horrific rage.

“Victory!” Bab announced later in her room. “Now I have everything for froggers.”

She picked up the portrait. “Will it be all right?” Auntie beamed. “Of course you think that, we’re family. I don’t have that advantage for tomorrow.”

Aunt Barbara looked Bab up and down before raising her chin.

Bab crossed her arms over her bust. “They’re prettier than I am, and I don’t think a padded bra would help.” Auntie’s eye narrowed.

“What’s worth knowing about me?” Her voice wobbled. Auntie glanced at the mirror. Bab stood in front of it for ages, trying to see what Aunt Barbara did. It never appeared. Whenever she turned away, Auntie nodded for Bab to return. Her throat ached from not shrieking her frustration.

Her reflection continued to show someone who did not have the looks, goals or background as the other black girls in the dorm. She had bits and pieces of other kin in her appearance, like Papa’s forehead, Grandfather’s nose, and Auntie’s love of frilly blouses. Bab straightened her back and assumed the formal pose of Auntie’s portrait. She still couldn’t find what Auntie saw, but her urge to scream faded. Maybe one of these years she’d be as awesome as Auntie believed.

If Bab was going to bake undisturbed, she was better off starting at midnight. The cookies wouldn’t be the freshest, but she half-remembered one recipe saying froggers grew tastier with time. Or she could scrub the kitchen for so long, Monday would roll by before she finished.

Giving the counter, sink and other surfaces the once-over wasn’t going to be enough if she wanted to win the trio’s favor. Bab scoured until her arms ached, shook them out, and started again. She filled her head with prayers for the cookies’ success and her continued safety. Whenever her mind wandered, she bit hard on her tongue.

Now that she thought about it, froggers might taste better if she rewashed the baking sheet. As she worried it with a sponge, she caught a glimpse of herself on the aluminum. She was nothing more than a blobby outline, but it was enough to remember the afternoon. Auntie thought she was worth something and Bab needed to act the part. She preheated the oven and pulled out the measuring cup.

Auntie’s recipe didn’t specify rice flour, but she could do with its protection. The spices that went into happiness cookies went into the mixing bowl, along with lucky nutmeg and ginger’s love. Macho allspice went in after all, to impart success.

Wet ingredients went into another bowl, before she combined everything to make a sticky dough. Nothing a bit of flour couldn’t fix. She rolled everything out with the side of an empty glass, used the mouth of the same cup to cut out froggers and stuck them in the oven.

Baking and cooling times stretched until every second felt like forever. Despite her best efforts, no amount of tidying would speed things. Sweat oozed from her face and armpits.

As soon as she could move the cookies without burning herself, Bab fled to her room. “I did it!” She hitched her shoulders in lieu of a fist pump. Dropping the froggers now would mean baking them later in front of an audience. Once they were safely on her desk, she fell to her knees.

“I thought of you as much as I could and how you want me to be.” On the floor, she couldn’t meet Auntie’s face. “I’m still not there, sorry.” Even through her jeans, the tiled floor felt so cool, but passing out here would mean a stiff back in the morning. “Just a minute.”

It took a few tries to lurch off the floor and back on her feet. Bab placed a frogger by Auntie’s picture. “What do you think?”

Between one blink and the next, the cookie vanished. Auntie’s smile threatened to push her cheeks off.

It was ten when Bab woke up, and eleven before she rolled out of bed. She only had a few hours, and laundry wouldn’t do itself. Typical for Sunday, all the machines were full, but one just had a few minutes left to run. She buried herself in a textbook, wondering if she could drop out of dinner, saying she had a test tomorrow. Auntie would be disappointed in her.

The afternoon vanished in a flurry of chores, grooming and actual homework reading. Bab shaved, brushed her hair until her arm ached, and smoothed out the wrinkles in one of her nicer shirts. Whenever her throat threatened to swell, she turned back to studying.

An hour before the event, Bab’s heart thrummed in her ears. She had one last thing to do before she was ready, but it meant going to the kitchen, possibly in front of everyone.

The room was filled with cell phone music and off-key singing. Tanya and Maria’s backs were to Bab as they chopped away. Jen hadn’t arrived. Bab was free to cover the table with a freshly washed sheet, though she ached to clap her hands over her ears. The file quality, song genre and the girls’ lack of skill made it Vogon poetry in human mouths. She placed her duct tape flower in the center of the table before retreating to gather the froggers.

When she returned, the pair was belting out what might have been “Baby Come to Me.” Bab prayed “4:33” was next on the playlist as she arranged cookies on her largest plate. She couldn’t do anything more artful than a pyramid of concentric circles, but it looked good enough for a magazine.

A shriek stole the last of her hearing. “Bab, when did you get here?”

Bab turned to Tanya, rubbing her ears. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Tanya laughed. “It’s either sing or put up with Maria’s preaching.”

“Soul food _isn’t_ vegan,” the third girl hissed.

“Aren’t you making peas and carrots?” Tanya said.

“Doesn’t count, I use butter,” Maria said.

“See what I mean?” Tanya said to Bab with a hammy sigh.

Bab’s smile shook around the edges. “Why not vegan?”

“Thank you!” Tanya abandoned her cutting board to crush Bab in a hug. “You understand.”

“Does that mean no cookies tonight?” Bab winced at her lack of subtlety. “They have dairy.”

“Of course cookies,” Tanya stepped back, giving her a hard look. “Cookies need butter, chicken need salt, and collard greens are better with orange juice instead of pork.”

“Blasphemy,” called a new voice from the doorway. Jen walked in, arms full of cans and equipment. “Smoked pork is food of the gods.”

As the trio rambled amongst themselves, tension fell from Bab’s shoulders. She set the table, making sure everything was picture perfect while the others worked by the stove and countertops. Aside from the odd comment thrown in her direction, they left her alone until their food was ready.

“What did you do?” Jen breathed as she took in Bab’s handiwork. “It looks like a real Sunday dinner now.”

“Ahem,” Tanya said, looking in the direction of the garbage bin. An empty tube of biscuit dough and gravy can sat on top of the trash.

“I was busy–” Jen started, but Maria cut her off.

“I forgot salt, gravy will help the peas and carrots.” She plopped her dish next to the duct tape flower. “Let’s start?”

No one commented on Bab sitting in the spot closest to the door. They were too busy saying things that threatened to stop her heart.

“How’s the food? Maria used fresh carrots this time.” Tanya wiggled her eyebrows. Maria, Bab’s bench partner, turned the color of rust.

The taste was on par with cafeteria food. Bab liked safety too much to say it aloud. “You’re right, it does go well with gravy.”

Maria stared at her plate as more blood rushed to her face.

“You know what would be great? Bacon.” Jen said. “Everything it touches turns to magic.”

Bab opened her mouth, closed it and lowered her head so no one could see her face. Auntie’s cookbook never limited power to a single ingredient. The other girls were too busy arguing which brand of cured meat was best to notice Bab.

It wasn’t long before the serving plates emptied. With competition out of the way, the froggers perfumed the table and made full stomachs grumble.

“Are these the cookies you made last week?” Jen asked.

Bab shook her head. “It’s a diff–” the trio snatched froggers for themselves and went to work reducing them to crumbs.

Jen’s first bite took out a third of her cookie. Her eyes widened. Tanya chewed slowly, lost in thought. Maria closed her eyes and clasped her hands like a church lady. “What did you say these were?”

“They’re molasses cookies.” Bab coughed, but her throat kept tingling. “Froggers.”

“Made with real frogs?” Tanya said, her mouth wry.

Bab took a deep breath and wished her lungs were bigger. “A woman named Lucretia Brown invented them.” All eyes were on her, none of them hateful. She looked at Tanya. “Lucretia was a black woman who ran an inn and made perfume and other things to sell.” To Jen and Maria she added “She was born in 1772 Massachusetts and owned property.”

No one spoke. They were too busy considering their froggers. Bab took one for herself and bit in deep. Spices spread through her mouth and seeped into her being. Her throat relaxed enough to ask “Maria, mind if I jog with you tomorrow?” before she realized it. A second mouthful of cookie kept panic at bay.

Maria’s ears darkened, but she said “I’d like that. Front door at eight A.M.? Wear good shoes.”

Bab took a second frogger, but when she reached for a third, all she found was an empty plate. Hearing the trio tease each other as they helped with cleanup almost made up for it. The lack of singing certainly did.

With four people helping, dishes and everything else were done in no time. Bab trailed the other girls out of the kitchen, itching to tell Aunt Barbara about tonight. It was too soon to tell how they’d take knowing Bab’s whole self, but for now they added warmth she couldn’t get with cookies alone.

END

    “Barbara in the Frame” was originally published in FIYAH and is copyright Emmalia Harrington, 2017.

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Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a new issue and a GlitterShip original, “Raders” by Nelson Stanley.

Episode #71 — “Barbara in the Frame” by Emmalia Harrington was originally published on GlitterShip

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Testimony|Jomrie

[TRIGGER WARNING: KNIVES AND BLOOD]

The whole room felt like a bath house. Not one of those indoor locker room showers either. No, this felt hot and stuffy and full of steam, just like the ones you read about in greek mythology. The way I see it, they got rid of those things for a reason. Of course, I had never been in one, but I imagine it felt like this. Felt cramped and crowded like there weren't enough metal seats in the county to hold everyone.

There weren't. People lined the back of the walls and kept their hands behind them, almost taking most of the pressure off their feet by pushing their fingertips so close to the paneling that it would burn. I wouldn't be able to stay standing during this whole ordeal. My knees would have buckled and stopped the blood flow to my brain faster than it could be over.

I couldn't keep my eyes on one thing, or my mind for that matter. This was all a little too much for me. The Alabama heat the plagued the summer, little beads of sweat that dripped off the tip of my nose, the judge who looked uncomfortable in the robes he dawned... hell even the lawyer who I had talked to on more than one occasion sent chills down my spine.

He watched me with eyes that were almost as black as coal in this light. I trusted him though, trusted his look and the way I talked to him about what exactly I was supposed to say on the stand in order to make this trial go as smoothly as possible. He looked like an older Atticus Finch. The one from the movie, not the one printed into thousands of books every year.

I could feel sweat drip down my arms. I wasn't sure where it was coming from, but it dripped easily off of my fingertips and pressed against the wooden stand. I hadn't spoken yet, I hadn't even been sworn in. I was just being stared at. Not just by the lawyer, or by the woman in the orange jumpsuit next to him.

"Miss Hart," the judge spoke with a certain heat to his voice. It was one that made the room feel even dryer. He sounded louder now that I was next to him instead of across the room. "You are to be sworn in by a offical. You answer questions that both parties ask you to the best of your ability are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I stumbled out, giving a small nod. My shirt was pressing against my back uncomfortably. The so called official he named stepped forward, his non-slip shoes making an odd noise against the linoleum. He held up a bible, the pages browned and the spine falling apart. It was probably as old as the courthouse if not older.

"Dr. Mamrie Hart," He spoke in a softer tone than the judge. He asked me to rise to right hand, which I did compliantly, feeling the sweat move towards my elbow "Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the whole truth to this courtroom in question."

My eyes met the girl who sat slumped in her chair, not a care in the world. It wasn't my job to convict her. That was the furthest thing from my mind. My soul purpose in this case is to prove how she did it. How this blonde woman with a bit of a crazed look in her eyes was capable of murder. That was my job, and I intended to do it.

"I do."

The air that pooled in my lungs was cold. Not like that day, not like that fifteen minute moment in time that I spent in that damned courtroom. I was back in my room, away from that nightmare, away from that day.

There wasn't much light where I was, my balcony windows opened to a treeless backyard. A cold wind pushed through the doors, letting out little howls every now and then. There was a fine layer of sweat that coated my almost bare chest, my tank top nearly see through at this point. These nightmares needed to stop soon.

I could tell by how light the sky was becoming that I didn't have much time left before I had to get up. There would be no use in closing my eyes again. Not now. Every Time I did I felt like I was looking into Grace's eyes again. Into the eyes of a killer.

She was behind bars, that's not what I was worried about. Hell, I had helped put her there myself. It wasn't a hard task. The evidence built up against her faster than I would care to admit. If I hadn't seen it first hand I would have called it a set up. I would have felt the guilt of sending an innocent woman to jail- but that wasn't the case.

I shook my head clear as I started to go through my morning routine mindlessly. There was no over thinking, not now. I refused myself to go back there, even if the nightmare had felt as real as ever. I kept the water cold as I showered, kept the pot small as I brewed coffee, and my hand steady as I applied pitch eye liner. Just like normal. Everything was normal.

I was already running late to work, despite being early to wake up. My bag was over my shoulder, my eyes searching for my keys in the nearly dark hallway until I glanced up at a small and loud creak like a haunted house door. There was light spilling into the foyer from my front door. It was ajar.

My whole body immediately tensed up as I took a careful step back, praying silently that my foot wouldn't hit the one loose board that would alert someone of any type of movement that I decided to carry with me.

I felt along the granite countertop blindly, grasping onto the closet knife that I could find. One that wasn't too sharp, but was serrated against my palm. My breath seemed to catch in my throat as I stayed as quiet as possible.

The arm wrapped around my neck faster than I had a chance to react, a rough heat moving through my throat as I tried to get out a scream. I made no noise though, my one hand clawing at the arm that pressed my back into the attacker's chest while the other kept the kitchen knife at my side until I slammed back roughly, hearing a loud crunch as a scream sounded off in my ear, making it hot as air rushed passed it.

I was shaking, not bothering to look back as they released me for a split second to sprint toward the door. It was fifteen feet away, if even. Despite how much effort I had taken to slamming the sharp end of a blade into this-this person's leg they got there faster, pressing a black gloved hand against the door hard enough to leave us in almost a pitch scenario. The only light I had was gone, my chest heaving up and down as I pressed my cheek against the cold door.

My fingertips had made a bloodied streak against the white paint where I allowed my touch to wonder. It wasn't my blood, but it affected me all the same.

"That wasn't very nice." the voice spoke with conviction. It was female, female and gruff. Something I hadn't expected. It didn't sound like her though. Not like I thought it was Grace for more than a split second. She wouldn't be naive enough for me to stab her.

"How did you find me?" I said between breathes, turning around slowly. My back felt cool against the white wood. She kept her hand to the right of my head. She was about the same height as me, almost shorter. Her hair was cropped short, probably made it easier to do whatever she needed to do.

I recognized her from the courtroom, but couldn't recall a name. I didn't need to recall one. Not in the position I was in back then. She saw me studying her, but didn't give it a second thought "You're not a very hard woman to track down, Mamrie."

My mouth was dry, but I tried to swallow anyway, it had no avale. My throat was scratchy and ached from where she had so rudely tried to end me. "I figured she was behind all of this. Th-the missing jury members, the judge that wound up dead in his fucking car."

"That was a nice touch, don't you think?" She scoffed, her breath was minty against my lungs, it mixed with the heavy scent of charcoal and metallic blood. "Grace is a little bitch who took a guilty conviction as time to repent for her sins."

"Smart woman."

"A dead one for all I care." She hissed, her voice rising. I couldn't help but wonder why this girl was talking to me. Why she was standing there like I hadn't just seriously wounded her. "You know, this whole thing started off as a way to avenge my best friend but this?"

I grimaced away as I felt the cold tip of the very knife I had shoved into her leg press softly right under my chin. It beat roughly against my pulse, each time my heart decided to push against my rib cage I felt the tip of a knife close in against my artery.

"This is a lot more fun."

"Joslyn." I whispered, not acknowledging the warmth the rushed down my neck and pooled at my collarbone. That small prick of a blade was her warning. Something I took very lightly. "Grace's friend, I-"

"You got her thrown behind bars." She said, her voice a low growl, "Got her fired, got me fired. I... You ruined both of our lives with your testimony."

"You're wrong." I swallowed roughly "My testimony, it would've of changed anything." She watched me with close eyes, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "If not me, they would find another doctor. Someone else would have done the autopsy and she'd still be where she is today."

"Shut up!" She screamed, my ears ringing at the sharp noise as I let out a shaky breath "Someone else didn't make the statement, Dr.Hart. You did. You were number one on my list for awhile. It was like you had no damn remorse of sending a teenager to prison."

"Do you?" I whispered "Have remorse I mean. For her? For yourself? Joslyn, what the hell are you doing?"

She didn't say a word, her grip tightening around the edge of the knife. It didn't matter to me either way. I wasn't interested in talking her down. I had known for awhile that I'd end up dead. The nightmares were a constant reminder. I had lived in fear up until this point because I was done waiting. Done with my fatal mistake of testifying on a trial that could have called anyone else to the stand. Anyone with a medical degree could have done what I did.

"You're what? 25? You have a knife to a woman's throat and think this is the answer?"

"It's the only one I can think of."

"Then you're not thinking hard enough." I clenched my jaw, staring into her coffee eyes "You've killed more people than Grace went to jail for and she's stuck with a life in prison. She's stuck with something that you're obviously trying hard to avenge. Look.. I-I'm sorry about your job, and Grace. But I can't change that and neither can you."

"You're right." She cocked her head to the side "Killing you wouldn't change that. But I'm not really one for change, Dr.Hart."