#nicholas the necromancer

[geezerwench]

Happy Saint Nicholas Day!

[its-ezraaa]

DnD AU - lesson nr. 1:

The higher your dexterity, the harder it is to hit you! Add a magic shield and suddenly wizards aren't as frail anymore as everyone said...

[readingabookmostofthetimes]

I'm starting to fear for Josh his life. He don't deserve to die

[bookswithsav]

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Necromancer

Book Information 

Title : The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Necromancer 

Author : Michael Scott

Series : The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel (Book Four) 

Rating 

Was the story engaging? 

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Necromancer is a very engaging story. With the return of the characters that have been introduced earlier on in the series, the story that began in The Alchemyst continues, throwing more and more at the audiences and the characters. The Necromancer seems to be a little more calm in terms of events compared to that of the previous books, however, the story being told is still riveting and does a wonderful job at building the bridge between the beginning and end of the overall journey. 

Rating: 5/5  

Were the characters enjoyable/developed well? 

The Necromancer does something very important within the The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series, and that is to introduce the changes in characterizations that have been happening under the surface in the previous books. All of the characters that have previously been involved in the story continue to develop as the situations around them change, becoming (in some form) a result of the battle being fought. There are a few characters in which have had a sense of doubt building around them for quite a while now, and this is continued within The Necromancer, causing further doubts on what is truthfully right or wrong. While most of the characterizations within The Necromancer were done beautifully and fit well or continue to build upon what we know as the audience, there are a few situations where characterizations of specific characters feel off, creating a sense of shock due to the abruptness of the change - however, I believe this is due to something we don’t quite know yet. 

Rating: 5/5

Was the plot developed well? 

The plot within The Necromancer was developed splendidly. I have to argue that The Necromancer is one of the most important books within the series so far, as it is the story that it tells allows an insight into what is truthfully happening and what is truthfully at stake for the characters. Although it’s arguably slower in pace than the other books so far, the plot is developed in a truthfully beautiful way that allows the readers to get a glimpse into both the past and the future, as important details of the history that has caused everything are revealed while also hinting at what is to come. While I had originally said that The Sorceress had an important job of continuing to accelerate the overall story forwards, I now have to say that The Necromancer holds this job title more accurately, as it acts at the bridge between what has happened, what is happening, and what is to come. 

Rating: 5/5

Was the audience kept in mind? 

I do have to say that the audience was kept in mind throughout The Necromancer. Something that’s been an issue throughout most of this series is the fact that many creatures of different myths, legends, and religions are introduced to the story without much further explanation. The Necromancer continues what The Sorceress achieved by continuing to offer an explanation as to why these creatures are important and/or horrendous, whether this is by directly giving an explanation or through context clues. Additionally, other elements of the story as well as different characterizations are explained in an effective and appropriate (no unnecessarily direct explanations) method, creating a wonderfully smooth read that allows the audience to be pulled from one situation to another. 

Rating: 5/5

Would I recommend the book? 

I would absolutely recommend The Necromancer. Standing in the fourth book out of six in the series, The Necromancer does a beautiful job at creating an absolutely riveting story while also continuing the overall story that the audience has become invested in. Through a plot filled with important information, The Necromancer sets up the rest of the series with a feeling of anticipation and incoming doom, driving the story with an even greater sense of risk than before. 

Rating: 5/5

Overall Rating: 5/5

Review 

Warning: Spoilers! 

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Necromancer was quite a read, and as I mentioned above, it does an absolutely brilliant job at connecting different parts of the overarching story together. 

As the audience, we’re caught in this position, similar to Sophie and Josh, where we just don’t know what’s happening and what’s happened. There’s a lot of history that led the world to get to this point, and while some of the characters we come in contact with know it, most don’t, and those who do don’t know all of it. Because of this, everything that Sophie and Josh choose to do becomes a toss up on whether or not their actions are right or wrong, and it doesn’t seem like anyone will know until the end. - which is approaching quickly. 

I first want to go through and discuss Perenelle and her characterization in The Necromancer. In the Rating section, she was the character that I was referring to when I said that her characterization was abruptly different from that of what we’d seen previously in The Sorceress. In fact, in my review for The Sorceress, I stated that I believed Perenelle was the more truth worthy of the Flamels. I don’t necessarily agree with this now. Previously, we had seen Perenelle worry about Sophie, Josh, and Nicholas frequently as she was separated from them due to being captured by Dee, consistently asking how the twins were doing and what danger they might be in despite her own position. In The Necromancer, however, all of the care that we had previously seen gets thrown right out the window. She’s seen constantly pushing Nicholas despite him quickly aging, acting very cold towards Sophie when she doesn’t do exactly what Perenelle wants, and even snapping at Josh and telling him that he’s inferior to his twin. Before this book, I believed that Nicholas may have been the more cruel of the two, with his short temper towards the twins and his seeming disregard for their safety, but in comparison to Perenelle’s characterization in The Necromancer, I can’t say that this is the case. Nicholas is growing weaker as he ages quickly, which may be some of the cause for the decrease in direct interactions we see between him and the twins, but he seems to wish for their safety and their happiness more than Perenelle does, and I have a feeling it’s always been this way. 

It’s been stated by multiple characters that out of the Flamels, Perenelle is the one that should be feared greater than Nicholas, and this fact was backed up by the idea that she was a highly skilled sorceress that also possessed incredible wit, allowing her to think her way out of situations quickly. However, it’s also been stated that Pernelle has been pushing to fight the Dark Elders for centuries at this point, trying to convince Nicholas to take the fight directly to the other side instead of waiting and protecting the Codex like he desired. With the subtle cruelty that Perenelle is now showing the twins due to her desire to use them in the fight, it has to be wondered if Perenelle is the driving force behind the Flamel’s hunt for the twins of legend, dooming many to a fate that could have easily been avoided, dragging Nicholas along due to his love for her. Let me explain my reasoning behind this really quickly. 

Not once throughout the series so far have we seen Perenelle feel guilty for her actions (or at least that I can remember). When Sophie directly confronts her about her involvement in getting both her and Josh hired, Pernelle does not shy away from the question, but instead happily confirms it, telling Sophie that she knew they were the ones. It has to be asked; how many children has Perenelle told that to? We know that there’s a long list of twins who have been involved with the Flamels and fallen victim to their circumstances, and through Nicholas’s nightmare in the previous book, we can assume that they all look similar and hold some of the same qualities about them. Also from Nicholas’s nightmare, we can understand that there’s a sense of guilt that he carries with him regarding all of the previous twin’s fates - especially when we learn this is a reoccurring dream for him. What Nicholas and Perenelle have done to the previous sets of twins causes some form of guilt for Nicholas, causing him to shy away from using more dangerous artifacts and directly hurting Sophie and Josh, but we don’t see this with Pernelle. In The Necromancer, now that she is directly involved with the twins, she becomes abruptly different, pushing Sophie to use ancient technology that she knows isn’t safe to use, snapping at Josh, and overall putting multiple people in a different kind of danger than Nicholas had before. Arguably, Sophie and Josh’s Awakenings were something that needed to happen if they really were the twins of legend, which Nicholas seems to fully believe at this point, and despite the risks, it was the step that was either going to lead to their success or failure concerning what they think is right. But Perenelle’s push to use the skull, an ancient artifact not even the Elders want to touch, and her quiet anger at Sophie’s refusal creates this weird sense of danger surrounding her, and it seems as though Nicholas was not the one we needed to really worry about. (Also, just dropping this in here, the Witch of Endor remembers nothing of Pernelle - at least that Sophie can find.) 

Now I want to talk about Sophie, and more specifically, what the Witch of Endor’s memories are providing to the story. I mentioned before that The Necromancer is where a lot of information is beginning to reveal itself to not only the twins, but also to us as an audience, and most of that is provided through the Witch of Endor’s memories that Sophie now possesses. Through her memories, it’s revealed that there’s something else happening that’s a little bigger than previously thought, as we learn that there’s something very wrong with that skull the Flamels possess. The Witch had spend quite a while (even for an immortal) working to rid the world of the ancient technology, putting herself at risk in order to find ways to discard them. So why do the Flamels have one? And what exactly does the Witch know that Sophie hasn’t figured out yet? There’s something very important regarding the ancient technology of the time before the Elders being hinted at, but without direct access of memories from Sophie’s point of view, we’re not going to understand the importance of these objects besides the fact that they should be feared; and if they should be feared, why would the Flamels possess it? We also know that the swords that are now in Dee’s possession are much more powerful than originally thought, and indeed much older than originally thought due to the knowledge that they provided him. The Necromancer places a very large importance on the danger of these objects, hinting that they find some way of damaging the user when in possession, and that makes their involvement and existence all the more important to the overall story. 

We need to talk about Josh. Throughout the series so far, Josh has been increasingly weary of the Flamels and the company that they keep - and honestly, for good reason. Nicholas has consistently put them in danger from the start, and Perenelle, as far as Josh is aware, is a willing proxy to these actions. Everyone that he and Sophie meet are hiding some form of secret from them, and Sophie is consistently given more opportunities than him despite his willingness to participate. It makes total sense for Josh, a teenager who is scared and in danger with his sister, to become weary of the people who put them into danger in the first place. It definitely doesn’t help that Dr. Dee and Machiavelli give him the opportunity to choose in some form whenever they’re around him, although Machiavelli really seems to be the only one who actually means it (giving Josh the opportunity to back out of being Awakened by Mars due to danger). Josh’s eventual switching of sides has been hinted at since the beginning of the series, starting with the end of The Alchemyst and only continuing from there. The question is how is he involved now that he’s decided to leave Sophie and side with the Dark Elders? And how does this impact the history that’s already been told? 

If Micheal Scott thought he was sneaky with this, he wasn’t. Unless I’m wrong, then completely ignore this next part, but I’ll find that out later. It’s been implied over and over again that the original twins looked incredibly similar to Josh and Sophie, which is most likely the reason why many of the twins the Flamels attempted to use also resembled Josh and Sophie. With the knowledge that Scathach, Joan, Shakespeare, Palamedes, and Saint-Germain actually fought with the original twins on Danu Talis, we now know that there’s some significant overlap between the time periods. What if Sophie and Josh are not only the twins of legend but also the original twins, and their separation that is happening currently leads to the fight that destroys Danu Talis and sets the world as they know it into motion? This would explain the unease that they set in those who remember the original twins and were present during Danu Talis’s destruction, as well as the need to send those who have worked with them back in time. 

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Necromancer raises a lot of questions for the audience, and it does so beautifully. With the twisting of time, technology, and betrayal, The Necromancer sets up the ending of the story with a continuously accelerating pace, furthering the risk of danger for the characters as well as the anticipation for the audience.

[coleheinous]

the new covers for the Alchemyst book series are such ass. like look at these

and tell me they're better than these beauties??

absolutely not. I hate you minimalism. I hate you sleek "modern" aesthetics. the new covers are so devoid of character and so boring. i hate them

[deadpool-scar-bro]

in the spirit of goncharov i'm gonna say that there's a secret sinf book that has not seen the light of day where its revealed that quetzalcoatl and aten are actually married

[eurisko-bohemia]

[supitsgdo]

Book review: The Secrets of The Immortal Nicholas Flamel saga by Michael Scott

Rating:

The Alchemyst - 3⭐️

The Magician - 3⭐️

The Enchantress - 3⭐️

The Warlock - 2,5⭐️

The Necromancer - 2,5⭐️

The Sorceress - 3,5⭐️

This saga had long been forgotten in the bottom of my TBR list when I stopped reading for a few years because of college. I bought this when I was younger, I remember that I was really happy and looking forward to reading stories about magicians, and also the covers looked so cool back then (and still do). I bought the books in Portuguese and decided to wait for all of them to come out (plot twist, they didn’t translate the last book so now my collection is ruined) but my sister bought them in English and read them a few years ago, and I remember that she liked them.

However, upon reading them now, ~15years later (wow I’m old), I had the feeling that the story wasn’t that well planned and the writing was lacking in quality in many scenes. Some things didn’t make sense, e.g., Sophie had all the memories and she could get access to everything, and then all of a sudden, she couldn’t, just because it suited the plot.

The pace of the story was too fast, it didn’t let the tension or suspense brew, there was no real calculated build up, things just happened. The Necromancer and The Warlock were the books I noticed that were more lacking in this department. I think they wanted to add more mythologies and characters, but as we know, more isn’t always better. Only the final book, the end atleast, was the one who saved this saga (even though the first two were actually good). I was even emotional in the end. But still, there were some things left unexplained, or rather poorly explained. It’s like the author wanted to tie up the loose ends but failed at it.

About the characters: the best character development award goes to… Dr. John Dee. The character that I least expected. Simply put, his development was well done.

The best bromance award goes to Machiavelli and Billy the Kid, I really loved the interaction between these two and how they made each other grow.

About the main characters: Nicholas and Perenell… I didn’t like them, their attitudes or personality. (I also like the fact that the others characters didn’t like them either, for the same reasons as mine). Mostly, I wanted them dead. And if you think about it, overall, they were 80% unnecessary for the plot. Also the title of the series being “The Secrets of Nicholas Flamel” is so inaccurate.

About the twins, Sophie and Josh, Josh was my favourite character (in my top 4). He questioned everything and didn’t trust him immediately, unlike his sister. He followed his heart. And I was glad when his sister opened her eyes and followed his brother.

All in all, I just wished the story had had time to ferment into a good wine.

[clonerightsagenda]

I know the answer is "magic" but I still wonder how Old Kingdom necromancers and abhorsens don't get tissue damage from all that ice buildup. <- posts I acknowledge Nicholas Sayre would also make

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @squarebracket-trickster! :D

Rules: use this link to generate some incorrect quotes for your characters!

For The Case-files, Uneasy Money, and The Circle of Little Animals:

Paul: Sometimes I feel like Gilbert doesn't take me seriously enough Nicholas: "Sometimes"? Arthur: "Enough"?

Evelyn: What are you doing here? Sinclair: I could ask you the same question Evelyn: This is my room! Sinclair: I could ask you a different question

Helena the First: You saved me! Why? Thomas: People would think I murdered you if I didn't

Alec: I can't find Davit! Phil: Leave it to me. Phil: *raises her voice* Alexander Lennox is an idiot! Davit, in the distance: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY Phil: Found him

Hyeon-su: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Yo-han: Certainly! Here's a complete collection of The Beginner's Guide to International Law, plus A Concise Look at Politics, General Economics, Philosophers on Crime, and all of my Algebra textbooks.

Helena the First: I am not in the habit of talking nonsense! Tarka: You're doing very well for a beginner

Gilbert: Are you trying to seduce me? Thomas: Why? Are you seducable?

Ji-hun: I'm a reverse necromancer Yo-han: That's. That's just killing people

Tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks, @fiyr-cap, @whimsy-of-the-stars, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

[morvantmortuary]

the night before -

The Morvants have their own Christmas Eve traditions.

warnings: allusions to child death and animal death, some gore, necromancers being creepy and possessive.

(I wanted to get this up earlier tonight, but my sister in law got in and I got distracted visiting, so! consider this a late night bite for the nocturnal crowd 🖤

As always, you can read this for just your favorite, or you can read it as though you’re dating a combination of all three - so long as you don’t mind your bed being very crowded at the end 😜)

All three Morvants share memories of the looming dread the holiday previously inspired:

The skeletal revenants that glowered through the House in the days leading up to the gathering — ritualistically sweeping, dusting, and mopping until their fingers fell off, or their task was complete and they immediately collapsed again into a heap of paper-thin skin and bones (that the boys then had to sweep up themselves and return to the basement).

The continued frustration of Maxi and Hector being constantly shooed out of the kitchen, despite both eagerly wanting to help prepare for the festivities, and being forced to go sit uncomfortably with the other men of the family as they visited before The Night’s Trial. Not to mention the guests of They Who Decide, who lounged around smoking eye-watering cigars and drinking heavily in the parlor while they talked of their grim variations of business.

The fury of a protesting Rora repeatedly being near-dragged back into the kitchen by her mother’s iron grip at her elbow, no matter how often she tried to slip away, or fake cramps or a headache in the later years, because Mathilde insisted it would be Rora’s duty to be hostess of such glittering evenings herself one day.

(Hector, to this day, swears that whatever dish Rora was forced to touch during the cooking process always tasted bitter. Like her anger had seeped into the food itself.

Rora, when asked, would simply say it was a trace amount of the cyanide her mother had caught her trying to slip in when her back was turned.)

The stiff, uncomfortable clothes - starchy old-fashioned suits for the boys, a tulle nightmare-confection for Rora, all with entirely too much ancient lace and in a grim grave-shroud white for the season.

They would be buried in them, after all, if they failed. As Vincent so loved to remind them.

Where other children waited eagerly for Christmas Day, eyes bright with the hope of presents to come, the three little ones all felt dread piling up in the pits of their stomachs like snowdrifts for weeks in advance. Each door of the antique wooden advent calendar revealed another implied threat — behind one, the baby teeth of a long dead relative who had neglected his necromancy studies. Another displayed two desiccated little slips, barely bigger than moth wings: the eyelids of a little girl who wasn’t asleep when Saint Nicholas arrived.

None of them cried when they took turns unveiling each grim reminder. They stopped all that carrying on when they were seven and eight, respectively, even when the occasional wet specimen — already milky white from a century of preservation — made one of them shiver, unsettling their breakfast in their stomach.

The little cabinet of horrors sat on the mantle all the way up to Christmas Eve, Vincent’s recitations of how each souvenir came to reside there echoing in their heads as they went about their Yule preparations.

Maxi would join his father in the embalming room, preparing for his teenage apprenticeship that would be his destiny. He learned how the dead would whisper anything they could still remember, too terrified to remember restraint, and how to salt the wards in the House’s guts that kept madness and death where they belonged.

Hector’s father would take him into what would one day be repurposed as his dark room, where he would study how to make himself a better vessel for the dead (until his mother Esperanza found an excuse to spirit him away, and showed him how redraw the boundaries within his own head).

Rora would be left alone with Mathilde, who would at first be eager for the prospect of time shared with her only daughter… until she sulked and snapped her way through every attempted lesson in the Things A Lady Should Know, be it cooking or sewing or coquetry. When Mathilde at last threw her hands up in disgust, waving Rora away, she would be left to her own devices… as well as her grandfather’s taxidermy diagrams and tools.

The three would study as diligently as each knew how, learning whatever tricks they could that might give them a way to survive the encounter.

At midnight, they snuck into each other’s rooms - a different one every night, so they might avoid any lurking ears or spectral gaze - and traded what little they knew. It was against the rules of the challenge, and if caught, they would all have to pay the price.

But none of them wanted to see the others lost. Especially to the black teeth and sightless eyes of that ancient wretched thing.

Though they had no way of knowing it yet, this would be only the first instance of breaking every rule they were ever forced to learn,

-

Ten Christmas Eves, they survived.

Every one of them made it out of the midnight maze one way or another, some years by the barest strands of ectoplasm.

Sometimes Saint Nicholas stole a strip of skin, a hank of hair from their scalp — anything it could get its bone-thin hands on, desperate to sate the aching hunger that plagued it. Hector lost one of his back molars the year he turned fifteen, and saw the creature place it right in his own jaw before he fell back through the other side of the dark.

They found each other every time as dawn broke over the cemetery on Christmas Day, wrapping each other in the by-then damp blankets that had been left out for them on the frozen ground, and watching the light push back every scrap of night left to make sure the creature in red couldn’t find its way back out to them again.

Then Hector was taken away to Mexico when he was sixteen.

Rora died the day she turned eighteen.

Hex completed his last run through the midnight maze by himself, and Maxi’s first Christmas Eve not spent fleeing in terror happened in a House where the only voices were those of the dead.

Those years, they all agreed, were the worst.

Christmas Eve with you is so different, for them, it’s surreal.

While Halloween holds his heart, Maxi doesn’t mind Christmas so much anymore. After years of keeping only to the traditional decorations so his late ancestors didn’t complain - red candles, white lights, garlands of dried herbs that had been handed down for generations - he finds he actually enjoys dressing up the House when you’re around.

He lets himself be silly now, hanging black stockings with skulls and crossbones for each of you on the mantle, decorating a tree with peculiar and morbid little ornaments - many of which are now momentos from the odd places the two of you end up together. He insists on watching Nightmare Before Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life at least once each season, in pajamas with hot cocoa, and he has a whole other repertoire of cookie recipes that he only makes in winter.

(If he holds you a little tighter and kisses your temple during George Bailey’s shouts of delight as he realizes he’s alive again, you don’t notice enough for it to strike you as odd.

You’ll never know how happy you made him to be alive again, too.)

He relishes the hunt for the perfect present, spending all year making notes to himself about the things you want but hesitate to buy yourself, or what you’re still trying to convince yourself you need. He wants to take care of you in any way he can, and if that means giving you permission to let yourself have something, then he’s happy to grant it.

A pattern returns from your more intimate moments, though: he focuses all his attention on you, eager to please, but the minute you show him any attention in return, he’s so overwhelmed he nearly forgets what he wants altogether.

You’re enough.

Every Christmas morning he wakes up in your bed with you, unscathed and unbloodied, unafraid, is more than enough.

-

Christmas Eve, however, he still insists on the two of you staying at your place.

He frames it more as wanting a break from the House, with all the decorating he’s been up to, and that’s sort of right. But truthfully, it’s because he’s certain he’ll never be able to sleep there on Christmas Eve as long as he’s on this side of the Veil.

At night, after the two of you have finished your last sugary snacks, and he’s held your back against his chest until you slip into a seamless sleep, he still lies awake until he absolutely has to move. He kisses the soft center of your cheek before he does, as if that itself is a spell of protection for the brief time he’s away.

He pads on silent feet to your living room, pausing at your fireplace with a wary glare to ensure his contingency measures are still in place.

The fine strand of silver-coated wire glints in the light, stretched taut across the width of your firebox and deceptively smooth for how sharply razored it actually was.

On your hearth, there are wards and glyphs in an unrecognizable dialect, all written in something the dull color of dried blood.

Subconsciously, he sucks the tip of his index finger as he turns towards your front door, the faint taste of iron filling his mouth.

Toeing into his shoes and sliding on his coat, he steps outside onto your porch as silently as he can manage. When he hears no noise from your bedroom at the creak of the floorboards of the soft squeak of the door hinge, he finally closes the door.

While you sleep, warm in your bed and your sugarplum dreams, he circles your house counter-clockwise seven times, trailing salt behind him as he speaks in a dialect of Louisiana French you’ve never heard from his lips in the daylight.

When he hears the slow, rhythmic ring of distant sleigh bells, he doesn’t stop or hesitate. He keeps one eye on the moon, iris reflecting solid red in the winter light.

He’s not a crying little boy anymore. He can fight back now, and he knows damn well how.

If he speaks the invocation a little louder, a challenge to the listening dark, he doesn’t realize it.

He’d take apart a centuries-old shambling corpse of Theseus of you. In a heartbeat.

When he enters your house again, the salt border over the sparse ice on the ground gleams with a tinge of red like bloody snow.

After checking the fireplace one more time, he finds the most central, load-bearing wall in your house. It has to be this one. No other will do.

He sets his left palm against it, feeling for something… before he sets his right one against it as well, satisfied. He leans his forehead in the space between them, and as his eyes close, the words tumble out of his mouth on an exhaled sigh.

If he’s learned anything in all of this - how the flesh and the sinew of a body calls to him above all else, how blood controls the flow of life, how decay is the purest form of devotion - he knows how to protect you.

And he’ll do it with everything he has, to his last breath.

Then he’d come back and do it again, so long as you were still alive.

The heater in your house kicks on briefly as something seeps deep through the wall, starting and stopping in a perfect imitation of a single human heartbeat.

Satisfied for now, Maxi abandons his shoes and his coat, padding his way silently back towards your room.

When he passes the innocuous milk and cookies waiting on your coffee table, he mutters a curse for the devourer to choke on them, long and hard.

He’ll spend the rest of his night with one of his hands under your heart and the other wrapped around his scalpel.

If he looks a little tired in the morning, when you kiss the edges of the bags under his eyes, he’ll only grin and tell you he was too excited to sleep.

Hector is used to loud, crowded Christmas Eves, whether it’s warm and welcoming with his mother’s family, or cold and cramped with the elite of They Who Decide.

The ones he spends alone with you, however, are always his favorites.

Hex, for not liking to sing too much, is nearly always humming something cheerful under his breath when the two of you are together. He’ll sing quietly along to the remixed and traditional carols from his childhood that he has on a playlist dancing in small, shuffling steps through the kitchen as he prepares his next creation. If it’s a baked good, there might be a few pleading prayers in between verses, oscillating between languages, desperately trying to thwart the curse that causes some of his most beautiful creations to end up frosting-side down on the floor.

If it’s something he’s cooking, though, then whichever of your houses he’s in will be pleasantly warm and delicious-smelling for the rest of the evening, and even a bit into the next day.

When he’s not in the kitchen, then all the man wants is to be warm, and his favorite way to be warm is with you. He’ll spend all his time sprawled across your couch, keeping you next to him with a fuzzy blanket, or tucked into the other half of his hoodie. Being colder than you, he breaks out his collection of fuzzy socks, only sliding one off when he sneaks his toes onto the back of your knee to shock you awake from an afternoon doze.

His presents, while maybe not as obsessive, are still thoughtful. Something that makes him think of you, even if it’s not something you strictly need, per se. It’s also more likely to be something the two of you can share somehow: a movie you both wanted to see, a video game you can tag team on, a bottle of some really lovely mezcal to split after Christmas dinner. Something to give him an excuse to spend more time with you, even though he already loves being attached your side.

He’s going to be here forever. He’ll make sure of that.

-

He also would insist on spending Christmas Eve at your place — he knows the ghosts in the House very well. They’re family, after all.

But even that doesn’t mean shit on a silent night.

He makes sure to serve your favorite at dinner that night, getting you nice and pleasantly full and sleepy on something delicious. If you drink, he’ll encourage you to imbibe a glass or two, maybe three. Anything that will get you through this evening as quickly and painlessly as possible, to make sure there’s no risk of you waking up.

He couldn’t stand it if that scarlet-suited fucker ruined it for you.

He knows what that’s like.

He’s a restless sleeper, but he lays still with his lips to your shoulder until your breathing settles, and he can watch the gentle little twitches of your deepest dreams. He only moves when he’s sure it won’t disturb you, and even then, he lingers for a moment, caught by the curve of your eyelashes against your cheek. He has to remember to take a photo of that sometime. Capture it against film, so the beauty of it can be seen for long after you’re both gone.

He slips out to your living room, checking the precautions he’s set up for the umpteenth time: the firebox wire is fit in place, and he’s strung its match across the bottom of your bedroom door for good measure.

He can be hard to reach, sometimes, if his soul wanders away from his sleeping body. He’s not about to risk drifting off on the job when it comes to you.

If he’s lucky, he’ll remove it in the morning, and you’ll never be the wiser.

But better safe than sorry.

On the brick floor of the firebox is a thin scattering of terra-cotta colored ash, the scent still heavy on the air as if something beautiful was freshly burned. On the back wall are etchings of the same color: wards, drawn with a smoldering stick of his mother’s incense.

He isn’t sure if the remaining curls of smoke are actually comforting, or if it just smells to him like coming home after a long time away.

Seating himself in the dead center of your couch, he lets his head fall back, his hair spreading across the tops of the cushions. He puts his hands, palm-up, out to either side of him, arms limp like he excepts to fall asleep at any moment.

He listens to the soft sounds of your house, the settling of the floorboard, the winter wind tapping at the windows.

Like the ends of fingers, flesh gnarled away at the tips down to bone…

When he thinks he hears the faintest hint of crunching ice, he closes his eyes, and his chest falls still.

For a few minutes, there’s nothing. Utter silence, muffled by the cold against the glass panes.

His fingers twitch, moving like they themselves are dreaming.

When he opens his eyes again, breathing deep like he’s just come up from under water, both hands are being solidly held.

He sits up, looking to his right — and sees a stranger in a white nightdress.

Her features are pale, her lips blue like she was kissed by frost. Her hair hangs around her face like it’s still faintly damp with clammy sweat, and her eyes are glazed, even when it’s obvious she’s trying to focus on his face.

When he looks to his left, his heart drops.

Seated next to him is a young boy, no older than eight or nine. His clothes look like something out of a period film, patchwork at the knees of his pants and elbows of his jacket like they’ve been darned and re-darned multiple times.

His skin might have been tan, but the full color of it is lost under a disquieting yellow from underneath.

He must have been sick.

When he smiles at Hex, hopeful, one of his teeth is still missing.

Hector sighs, returning the smile somewhat guiltily.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

Quietly, he looks between them, and explains what they need to do. Where they need to stand, and for how long.

What to do if Saint Nicholas tries to talk to them.

They listen, and when he finishes, they sit so still he’s almost afraid they don’t understand.

But as one, they both silently rise to their feet, and turn in opposite directions. The woman exits through the back wall of your house, melting through like water. The boy, holding himself straight and proud with the weight of his new responsibility, marches through the front wall and out onto the porch.

With a quick look over his shoulder, and another smile through the window, he begins to circle your house.

Hector stays until they’ve both covered one counter-clockwise rotation, then rises to his feet. His joints crack a little as he does, and he winces slightly.

Before he heads back to your room, though, he looks over to where the milk and cookies are perched on your coffee table.

He uses both hands to flip it the bird. He put red pepper and cayenne in that shit, he hopes it hurts like hell going down.

Rora has… never been much of one for holidays. Especially not the ones that require being performing for family. She was already reminded every day how much she disappointed them by being something other than the perfect debutante; the holidays only heaped that on in spades.

But you. You are an excellent reminder of the joy that can be found by being alive.

In an attempt to make some cash (the whole ‘being undead’ thing kind of hampering the legal on-boarding process at most companies), Rora would be spending the season harvesting fresh mistletoe and American holly out of the swamp to make her own wreaths and decorations. She figures, having already established herself as a local artisan (to the degree that taxidermy dressed in burlesque gear counted as art — which maybe you would argue for more than her).

She wouldn’t drag you along to come foraging with her - unless you wanted to, in which case, you’d be more than welcome.

But she would be happy to spend the month joining you in whatever holiday traditions you preferred, as long as you didn’t mind her braiding and weaving various forms out of her plants when she did.

You’d sit with your head on her shoulder, your eyes torn between the black and white movie on the screen and the skillful work of her nimble hands. While you wrapped presents or trimmed your own tree, she’d be a chair away, working on her latest projects (until you needed help reaching something on the tree itself, in which case she’d immediately shoo you off the ladder like you were something fragile and take your place).

The only time her hands would stop were when the two of you were getting ready for bed — or when she’d abruptly appear next to you when you were reading or watching something, holding a sprig of fresh mistletoe over your head with a sly smile on her face.

For the holiday, you would find at the end of a silver chain a resin pendant, encasing a smaller sprig of mistletoe.

Rora, at your request, would put it on you immediately, her eyes glowing the same soft green as the leaves inside…

And then immediately bend down and enthusiastically kiss your chest, all over and then some.

She was only human, after all.

Mostly.

-

She, too, would insist on your house for Christmas Eve.

The House didn’t frighten her. Nothing really frightened her anymore, after being dead for so long.

Save for something happening to you. She would do anything, bend this world and the one beyond to her will, if it meant she could keep you from seeing a tenth of what she’d had to endure.

The mistletoe and holly served a dual purpose, you see. For every so many sprigs and boughs set aside for her little stand at the local flea market, she set one aside for you.

In the winter evenings, when you were busy with your own holiday secrets or blissfully asleep, she would tinker with the branches and the leaves, waiting for them to dry and diminish of their original hue before she infused it with some of her own.

On Christmas Eve, after she’d thoroughly worn you out before bed (she couldn’t cook, but she was always delighted to dine) and laid out milk and cookies both laced with enough cyanide to kill a horse (it wouldn’t work, it was just for her own catharsis), she set to work on her true, intricate design.

Yes, she uses the firebox wire, same as the boys. They’d been using it since they were thirteen, she wasn’t about to abandon tradition. But she also etches her own runes around your mantle, hiding them after with a garland of beautifully arranged plants that seems to nearly glow with just how verdant they are.

When the whole fireplace almost seems alive with fresh greenery, she settles herself on the hearth, pulling on the protective smock she wore over her clothes for all her taxidermy projects.

After a deep breath, and a moment to angle her arm around the firebox wire, she shoves her hand as far up the chimney’s throat as she can manage it.

She grumbles as she searches, wincing at the ash that falls while she moves her hand over the bricks and around the lintel - and nearly smashes what she’s looking for.

Oh-so-carefully, moving as slowly as she can, she frees the pathetic little bundle from its tomb before bringing it back down to her own eye level like she’s holding a handful of diamonds.

It is, in fact, a collection of mouse bones.

Small, sad, discolored from age and long shot of any fur it might have once had in life, the skeleton nearly crumbles apart in Rora’s hand.

She holds it close to her face, poking through it with her index finger as she counts. When she knows for sure she has the skull, and enough limbs for it to work, she folds the tiny remnants into her delicate fingers.

What happens next is hidden by the dark veil of her hair, her own deep green shining between the strands as she whispers something in Latin.

Around her, a breeze gathers in your perfectly still house, tiny whispers seeming to echo off the walls.

When she raises her head again, the scars from her own resurrection are a deep, pulsing green -

But the mouse skeleton is standing upright in her palm, assembled like it hasn’t been in years.

The eyeless little thing looks up at her, and if it had a nose to sniff and ears to twitch, it would.

She smiles at it - a soft one, one she usually only saves for you - and kisses the tip of her finger before pressing it to the tiny arc of the dusty skull.

The mouse, at first surprised despite its featureless face, presses back.

Rora strokes her finger along its spine, watching it shiver its little vertebrae in happiness as she whispers to it.

She holds her hand back to the firebox, and with some gentle urging, the little skeleton skitters onto the bricks again. Glancing back over its tiny scapulae, it eyes her with its empty sockets, before scrabbling its way back up into the chimney from which she pulled it.

Rora stands again, dusting her hands off on her smock before just standing there. Waiting.

Then, just as whispers had filled your house before, a new breeze sweeps along something else: squeaks.

As she listens, the tiny, echoing squeak develops yet another echo. Between your floorboards, she can see the hint of a deep green spark, which in turn seems to split itself in two.

She stares down, watching the green spark divide itself over and over as tiny echoing squeaks grows into a veritable chorus.

When it finally stops dividing itself, she stamps twice on the floorboards, and a mass of something that grows vivid green rattles incessantly in the direction of your chimney.

A small army of skeletal creatures in varying states of assembly squeezes its way out between the cracks in your floor, the pieces throwing themselves into the firebox and up the flue like some sort of horrific reverse vacuum.

Rora supervises until an entire extermination van’s worth seems to have shoved itself up your fireplace, glowing a nuclear green that fills the whole room, before it at last falls deceptively silent.

Smiling like a cat, she steps out of her smock, depositing it behind a chair and out of sight before sauntering her way back to your room.

Let that dead fuck try his luck against her new darlings.

She’d been wondering how well that petrified skin would hold up against thousands of little tiny teeth.

When she crawls back into your bed, you barely even stir when she pulls you close.

-

You will never know the terrors that lurk in the depths of old magic.This time of year will always be joyous for you.

They will each and all make sure of that.

(if you read this far, I hope your holiday is going swimmingly - or at least, less stressful than theirs. :’D thanks for stopping by and sharing part of it with us! 🥰♥️

merry creepmas to all, and to all a good fright! 🖤⚰️)

[eretzyisrael]

by Eli Lake

This is not the first time that prominent Jews have used their words to advance the aims of the enemies of our people. It is, sadly, a long tradition. Centuries ago, when there was no Jewish state, the AsAJews of their day lobbied their hosts in the Diaspora to banish or convert the Jewish people to Christianity and to confiscate and burn the Talmud. There are many examples of this kind of treachery, but there is one episode from the 16th century that truly illuminates our current moment.

August 13, 1509. That is the date on which Emperor Maximilian I of the Holy Roman Empire issued the infamous Padua Mandate, ordering all Jewish books, with the exception of the Old Testament, to be confiscated and destroyed.

By 1509, this kind of edict was not unusual in Europe. The Middle Ages saw a succession of libels proliferated against the Jews. We were accused of stealing or desecrating the substantiation of Christ in the ritual wafer. Of using the blood of Christian children in secret rituals. We were condemned as sorcerers, alchemists, necromancers, heretics, and blasphemers. And even though these tales were fictions, the punishments were very real. When a Jew was accused of defiling the wafer in the German town of Belitz in the 13th century, all the Jews there were burned at the stake. The blood libel of 1475, which claimed that Jews kidnapped, tortured, and killed a boy known as Simon of Trent, resulted in a similar pogrom.

Jewish books in particular were a target for the Medieval anti-Semites who believed that the Talmud contained in its pages knowledge of magic that gave Jews special powers. They also thought that the Talmud encouraged heresies against the Church and taught Jews to hate Catholics. In this respect the German-born Maximilian was part of a long tradition that sought to abolish Jewish learning. By the time of the Padua Mandate, he had already expelled the Jews living in three of the Holy Roman Empire’s German territories.

Still, by the standards of European leaders of the day, Maximilian was by no means the worst. Despite his expulsions, there were prominent Jewish families throughout Germany that prospered. He was hostile to the Jews, but he was not a fanatic. What led him to issue the Padua Mandate was a man who had the zeal of the convert, an AsAJew named Johannes Pfefferkorn.

Born in Nuremberg in 1469, Pfefferkorn was a mediocrity. He was a vagabond who wandered medieval Germany before ending up in Cologne. In 1505, he was convicted and imprisoned for robbing a butcher. But by the next year he was free. He announced he’d had an epiphany in prison, and, in 1506, Pfefferkorn converted to Catholicism and was baptized by Dominican friars along with his wife and children.

A little background on the Dominicans, who were among the leaders of the Spanish Inquisition: We remember that first effort at eliminating Jewry in Europe because of its expulsion of Jewish citizens, horrific forced conversions, and monstrous acts of mass torture. But a major component of the Inquisition was a war on Jewish texts. By the time of the Inquisition, the targeting of Jewish books had been going on for at least 100 years. The first major burnings and confiscations of the Talmud happened in the 13th century at the urgings of both popes and kings. And even though the Jews formally appealed to the Vatican, their protests fell on deaf ears.

One instigator of all this was an earlier Jewish convert to Catholicism. His name was Nicholas Donin. He persuaded Pope Gregory IX that the Jewish Talmud was a vicious slander against Christ and his followers. And it was Gregory who ordered the confiscation and burnings of the Talmud during the Inquisition.

So when Pfefferkorn wandered out of jail back in 1505, the Dominicans believed they had found their next Donin, an ex-Jew who could persuade the Church and the emperor to round up all the Talmuds in Germany.

[readingabookmostofthetimes]

Billy the Kid and Machiavelli are saved. I have a feeling that the will be good. They don't sound like the true villians

[haveyoureadthismgyabook]

Series info:

Book 1 of The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

Book 2: The Magician

Book 3: The Sorceress

Book 4: The Necromancer

Book 5: The Warlock

Book 6: The Enchantress

[braveclementine]

Volterra and Volturi

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Twilight characters or locations. I do own Davina Mikelson and Marcel. I also own the backstory for my OC. I do not condone any copying of this.

Davina P.O.V.

As Alice drove, she chatted about what the rest of the family had been doing. I found that they had moved to New York. Carlisle was teaching at Cornell part time which was, you know, just fantastic. So glad he was enjoying himself.

Emse was doing some historical reconstruction of some seventeenth century building. Emmett and Rosalie had gone to Europe for a honeymoon. Jasper was learning philosophy at Cornell. Alice meanwhile, had been doing some digging about her own past.

"My name was Mary Alice Brandon. I had a little sister named Cynthia. Her daughter- my niece- is still alive in Biloxi."

Mississippi.

"Did you find out why they put you in. . . that place? What would drive parents to that extreme? Even if their daughter saw visions of the future. . ." Bella asked.

"I couldn't find much about them. I went through all the old newspapers on microfiche. My family wasn't mentioned often; they weren't part of the social circle that made the papers. My parents' engagement was there, and Cynthia's. My birth was announced. . . and my death. I found my grave. I also filched my admissions sheet from the old asylum archives. The date on the admission and the date on my tombstones are the same."

The Cullens had been completely together- Edward was not with them- and they had been spending Spring Break in Denali with Tanya's family.

'Maybe Carlisle and Tanya are together' I thought blandly and was glad that I hadn't dragged Sam up there when I'd wanted to. That would've meant running into Carlisle and Sam probably would've tried killing him.

I sighed, peering out the window.

Once we got to the airport, I quickly made sure that my wig was in place before getting out of the car. Alice quickly bought three tickets to Italy. We would have to make a stop in New York and then board another plane through a connection to Italy.

There were no problems in the airport. People barely looked at me, which was such a relief I could laugh. My passport wasn't even looked at twice. Soon, we were on the plane. Bella's leg was bouncing up and down and Alice muttered, "It's faster than running."

Bella simply nodded.

I pulled out the book I'd brought with me. Yes, I know, I brought a book to save Edward from his demise. But really, if we were going to die, then I wanted to be enjoying a book.

I was reading The Necromancer: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel. It was the fourth book in a series of six. It truly was a shame that I might not have the chance to finish the series off.

Alice lifted the phone off the back of the seat as the plane rose into the sky while Bella eyed the stewardress. I listened in to see who Alice was talking to. ". . . changing his mind. . . a killing spree through the city, attacking the guard, lifting a car over his head in the main square. . . mostly things that would expose them- he knows that's the fastest way to force a reaction. . . No, you can't! Tell Emmett no. . . Well, go after Emmett and Rosalie and bring them back. . . Think about it, Jasper. If he sees any of us, what do you think he will do?"

Pause.

She nodded, "Exactly. I think Bella and mom are the only chance- if there is a chance. . . I'll do everything that can be done, but prepare Carlisle-" His name sent shocks through my heart, "- the odds aren't good."

She laughed with a catch in her throat, "I've thought of that. . . Yes, I promise. Don't follow me. I promise, Jasper. One way or another, I'll get out. . .And I love you."

My heart caught in my throat. I felt so bad for her.

She hung up and closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, "I hate lying to him."

I nodded. I hated lying to Sam. There was definitely a chance none of us were getting out of this.

Not that it mattered to me. My parents- dead. My brother Kol- dead. There was Sam and my werewolf sons. . . but they could get along without me. They'd be okay without me. They could survive. Sam had Emily. They had each other.

I rubbed the tattoo on my wrist. I loved them. I truly loved them. They were my family now. I wish I didn't have to leave them.

"Tell me everything, Alice. I don't understand. Why did you tell Jasper to stop Emmett, why can't they come help us?" Bella asked.

"Two reasons. The first I told him. We could try to stop Edward ourselves- if Emmett could get his hands on him, we might be able to stop him long enough to convince him, you're alive. But we can't sneak up on Edward. And if he sees us coming for him, he'll just act that much faster. He'll throw a Buick through a wall or something, and the Volturi will take him down."

She paused, thinking deeply and then added, "That's the second reason of course, the reason I couldn't say to Jasper. Because if they're there and the Volturi kill Edward, they'll fight them. Bella. If there was any chance we could win. . . if there was a way that the four of us could save my brother by fighting for him, maybe it would be different. But we can't, and, Bella, I can't lose Jasper like that."

Especially since he'd spent so much of his life fighting.

"Couldn't Edward hear you, though? Wouldn't he know, as soon as he heard your thoughts, that I was alive, that there was no point to this?" Bella asked in confusion.

"You can lie with your thoughts." I answered quietly.

"Exactly." Alice said sadly. "If you had died, I would still try to stop him. And I would be thinking 'she's alive, she's alive' as hard as I could. He knows that."

Bella gritted her teeth in frustration. I could only imagine her anger. If Carlisle had tried pulling this crap I would be angry too. After all, they didn't want us anymore. They had casted us aside like an unwanted dog that bit to much. Carlisle hadn't even bothered to say good-bye to me.

"If there was any way to do this without you, Bella, mom, I wouldn't be endangering you two like this. It's very wrong of me."

"Don't be stupid. I'm the last thing you should be worrying about. Tell me what you meant, about hating to lie to Jasper." Bella said, shaking her head.

She smiled grimly. "I promised him I would get out before they killed me, too. It's not something I can guarantee- not by a long shot."

"Who are these Volturi?" Bella asked. "What makes them so much more dangerous than Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, and you?"

I mostly stopped listening at this point. I knew they were dangerous. Aro could hear every thought in your head with one touch of your body. Marcus could test familial bonds, test and see where they were weak, gauge how strong they are.

There was Jane who could cause pain by looking at you. And then her opposite twin Alec who would cause no feelings at all. Then there was Demetri who could track you down knowing nothing but your name. Felix was as strong as Emmett, maybe stronger. Chelsea keeps the guard together with bonds and can also break bonds. Renata was Aro's shield. Santiago who also possessed great strength. Heidi was a bit of a fisher, able to lure the humans into Volterra for the others to eat.

I shivered, pulling out my earbuds. I drowned myself in babymetal so that I couldn't hear anything else.

I let the heavy metal with cute Japanese little girl voices sing in my head until I felt a jarring motion and realized we had landed in New York. Huh, it had felt rather short.

I pulled out my earbuds as Bella made Alice get up. We ran to get to our connection, but it was worth it as the plane took off almost immediately. I immediately set myself back into Baby metal, trying to fall asleep.

A few minutes- hours really- Alice motioned to both Bella and I excitedly. I groggily extracted my earbuds from my ears, wondering what she was so excited about. Night had fallen outside the windows.

"What's wrong?" Bella muttered.

"It's not wrong. It's right. They're deliberating, but they've decided to tell him no." Alice said with a smile.

That was good?

"The Volturi?" Bella muttered again.

"Of course, Bella, keep up. I can see what they're going to say."

"Tell me."

"Can I get you ladies a pillow?" A male flight attendant asked. I knew my wig was slightly loose so I didn't dare look at him.

"No, thank you." Alice said.

"Tell me." Bella said again.

"They're interested in him- they think his talent could be useful. They're going to offer him a place with them."

"What will he say?" Bella asked curiously while I gingerly fixed the hairline on the red wig. The bun was starting to give me a headache. I would be able to take it off once we were in Italy.

"I can't see that yet, but I'll be it's colourful. This is the first good news- the first break. They're intrigued; they truly don't want to destroy him- 'wasteful,' that's the word Aro will use- and that may be enough to force him to get creative. The longer he spends on his plans, the better for us."

Okay so it was good news. Good.

"Alice?"

"What?"

"I'm confused. How are you seeing this so clearly? And then other times, you see things far away- things that don't happen?" Bella asked curiously.

"It's clear because it's immediate and close, and I'm really concentrating. The faraway things that come on their own- those are just glimpses, faint maybes. Plus, I see my kind more easily than yours. Edward is even easier because I'm so attuned to him."

"You see me sometimes." Bella added.

"Not as clearly." Alice said.

"Clear enough you saw her cliff diving." I grunted.

Bella sighed, "I really wish you could have been right about me. In the beginning, when you first saw things about me, before we even met. . ."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked curiously.

"You saw me become one of you." Bella muttered so quietly I almost missed it. I almost sighed aloud.

Alice did sigh. "It was a possibility at the time."

"At the time." Bella repeated dully.

"Actually, Bella. . . Honestly, I think it's all gotten beyond ridiculous. I'm debating whether to just change you myself." Alice finally said.

I froze and so did Bella.

"Did I scare you? I thought that's what you wanted." Alice asked, confused, staring between the two of us.

"I do! Oh, Alice, do it now! I could help you so much- and I wouldn't slow you down. Bite me!"

"Jesus Bella." I hissed. "Shut up."

"Try to be reasonable." Alice said. "We don't have enough time. We have to get into Volterra tomorrow. You'd be writhing in pain for days. And I don't think the other passengers would react well."

"If you don't do it now, you'll change your mind."

"No. I don't think I will. He'll be furious, but what will he be able to do about it?"

"Nothing at all."

She laughed quietly and then added as an afterthought, "You have to much faith in me, Bella. I'm not sure that I can. I'll probably just end up killing you."

"I'll take my chances." Bella said stupidly.

"You are so bizarre, even for a human." Alice pointed out.

"Thanks." Bella said.

"Oh well, this is purely hypothetical at this point, anyway. First we have to live through tomorrow."

"Good point." Bella sounded excited. She looked sideways at me, "Will you be a vampire?"

I shook my head, "There's no point. Instead of a life time of sickness and suffering, it would just be endless forever suffering. No thanks."

"When you're a vampire, you might capture Carlisle's attention." Bella pointed out. "He wouldn't need distractions."

I scoffed, "Why would I chase a man who doesn't want me? If he doesn't love me as a human then he's not going to love me as a vampire. I shouldn't have to change myself to permanently to get his attention. Besides, Vampires aren't allowed on the Quileute rez so I'd much rather stay human thank you very much."

Bella was silent for a moment, probably lost in her own world again.

I fell back asleep and didn't wake again until the sky was turning pink and orange. I noticed Alice's late night enthusiasm was gone as we started to touch down in Florence, Italy. She was already talking to Bella and I listened in as I stretched, getting ready to exit the plane.

". . .got very close. He changed his mind at the last minute."

"He wouldn't want to disappoint Carlisle. Not at the end." Bella murmured.

"Probably."

"Will there be enough time?" Bella questioned.

"I'm hoping so- if he sticks to his latest decision, maybe." Alice said, but she didn't sound particularly hopeful.

"What is that?" Bella and I asked together.

"He's going to keep it simple. He's just going to walk out into the sun."

I didn't know if it would be enough. There were a lot of things that could be say. Reflective surfaces taped to his skin, glitter, sparkles, diamonds imbedded in his skin- hey rappers did weird things like that all the time- etc. There could be a very good reason for why his skin was sparkling. Grand effects for whatever.

". . . wants the biggest audience possible, so he'll choose the main plaza, under the clock tower. The walls are high there. He'll wait till the sun is exactly overhead."

"So we have till noon?" Bella asked.

"If we're lucky. If he sticks with this decision."

"How far is it from Florence to Volterra?"

"That depends on how fast you drive. . . Bella? Davina?"

"Yes?" We asked together, looking at her. I pulled on my leather jacket, fixing my wig slightly when no one was looking.

"How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?"

I grinned.

---------------

We careened down the road in a bright yellow Porsche. Honestly, I was having the time of my life, beaming, the wind down just slightly to feel the heavy breeze rolling through.

"There's Volterra." Alice announced after about fifteen or so minutes of driving. We'd been weaving in and out of traffic which had been terrifying at first, but I knew Alice wouldn't crash. I wasn't even wearing my seat belt.

I looked over to the see the city that looked like it was built on a mountain. It was all the same tan colour and it looked like a maze of walls and roads and buildings. The main plaza was probably smack dab in the middle, making it a literal maze. The surrounding area was forest of green trees and luscious fields.

We were so totally dead.

Alice drove through the roads, showing me that there were indeed layers to the city. She beeped as she tried not running people over. Everyone jumped out of the way, everyone was also wearing red which was really, really weird.

"Why are they all in red?" Bella asked as Alice moved through a large crowd of people.

"Saint Marcos Day festival." Alice replied with complete indifference, "They're commemorating the expulsion of vampires from the city. It's the perfect setting."

I snorted from the irony.

"The Volturi will never let him reveal himself."

"We have five minutes." Bella was practically crying in the front seat. I could feel my heart beating faster as my stomach churned at the deadline.

"Bella, just breathe." Alice said.

Police officers stopped us at the next check point. "Let's go." I muttered to Bella, throwing my door open. Bella threw her door open as well and we started to run.

"Where are we going?" Bella shouted after me.

"The clocktower of course." I shouted behind me.

Bella and I ran, pushing past people in red as much as we could. We ran up stairs, down alleyways as we searched for the clocktower.

The sun was beating down on us and I stripped off the leather jacket, wishing I'd brought something different so I could just tie it around my waist. Instead, I just held it under my arm as I sprinted, pushing past more people.

Me and Bella came to a stop as we reached a wall of people that were watching a parade go by.

"Come on." I muttered, starting to push through people. If I had to cross the parade to get to my son, I would.

Me and Bella dashed through an opening in the parade, continuing to cut through people. I could see the clock tower in front of us.

Pushing through the crowd of people, we suddenly found ourselves in front of a fountain. 'Well damn' I thought.

The clock hit twelve.

"Fuck." I cursed aloud, jumping up on the fountain, running along the edge of it like a balance beam, except it was wider than a beam.

I could see Edward walking out of the door and I could hear Bella screaming Edward's name behind me.

"Damn you Eddie." I muttered, sprinting towards him. I could hear splashing in the fountain and I knew that Bella was running across the fountain. I leapt off the stone fountain edge as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Bella suddenly tore past me, water flying off her shoes as he stepped out into the light, tackling him backwards into the church.

Bella and I shoved him together into the clock tower, the doors slamming behind me. "Bella? Mom?"

I huffed, furious now that Edward was alive and in my sights, "You complete arsehole Edward Cullen!"

Edward looked slightly abashed, but he couldn't keep his attention on me for long, turning to Bella instead. I rolled my eyes, leaning against the stone wall. We'd probably have to stay here until night set. I hoped Alice could find us.

Was Bella really going to forgive Edward so quickly? Oh yep, they were kissing. Well damn.

I really hoped we took planes straight back to Forks and then they could go to Alaska to see the others. The last thing I wanted to do was see Carlisle again. The others- fine. My kids- fantastic, Esme- wonderful. Carlisle- fuck me.

Wrong choice of words.

Screw him.

No, wait.

Shit.

Suddenly, there was a noise like an elevator and I looked over to see two pale, male figures making their way over to us.

One was slightly smaller with blond hair while the other was bigger, hulk like, with dark hair.

"I won't be needing your services after all, gentlemen." Edward said, holding Bella close.

"Aro wants to speak with you again." The bigger folk said.

"No rules were broken." Edward protested.

"Nonetheless, we should take this conversation to a more appropriate venue." The smaller man said, looking at me and winking. I raised an eyebrow. Now that he was closer, I saw the blond was more of a dirty brown blond.

"Fine." Edward said. "Bella, Davina, why don't you two go and enjoy the rest of the festival?"

"The girls come with us." The bigger man said.

"Ooh lovely." I snarked under my breath.

"No. You can go to hell." Edward said.

"Eddie." I said sharply, raising an eyebrow.

Alice stepped in at that second, lowering the head scarf she had been wearing. "Come on guys. It's a festival. You wouldn't want to make a scene."

"We wouldn't." The dark haired man said when a third figure appeared. She was mostly definitely blond with large red eyes.

"Enough." She announced, tossing her hood back.

"Jane." Edward whispered.

"Aro sent me to see what was taking so long." Jane said, looking up at the darker haired man, then the lighter, looking at the other three, then me, before turning and going back the way she came. There was a no nonsense air about her and it made Edward follow after, Bella's hand tightly in his own. Alice followed after and I went with them.

The other two vampires waited till I passed by to bring up the rear.

The bigger man held out a red robe for Edward to put on, which he did.

"Go ahead." Jane said as she reached the part where the stairs turned downwards. We walked past and now the three of them were bringing up the rear.

Now that Edward was safe, I truly wasn't scared. We would meet Aro. We would either live or die. Personally, I preferred life, but it truly wasn't the biggest worry if I died. Although, admittedly, I hadn't redeemed myself yet and would probably be going to hell.

Eternal hell.

Lovely.

We finally filed into an elevator. While the others stood upright and stiff, I leaned against the wall. The better looking man, the small one who had winked, was staring at me. I looked back.

"Don't touch. I bite." I said, raising my eyebrows.

He grinned, "Oh, I like you."

I titled my head a little in acknowledgement. Jane snorted up front. The elevator music was horrible.

"Opera. Terrible." I muttered as the doors opened. The man snorted in laughter. The bigger man rolled his eyes.

We stepped into a lobby of sorts, a human woman behind the desk. I was surprised, but perhaps I shouldn't have been.

"Is she human?" Bella asked up front. I was walking between the man that seemed to like me- or at least I amused him- and Alice.

"Yes." Edward said.

"Does she know?" Bella asked after a few seconds.

"Yes." Edward was being quiet, like he didn't want anyone else to hear, which was ridiculous because I could hear which meant the vampires around us certainly could.

"Then why would. . .She wants to be." Bella answered her own question.

"And so she will be." The man next to me said.

"Or dessert." Jane said calmly ahead of us.

I rolled my eyes.

Jane opened up two double doors in front of us and revealed a large room that looked like a dome. In fact, it probably was. There were quite a few windows, but not enough for the light to fully reach the ground and make the vampires around us sparkle.

There weren't many vampires at all, two guards near the door, a young man in the middle of the floor, and three sitting upon thrones up on an altar.

"Sister, they send you out to get one and you come back with two." The vampire who must be Alec said. "And two halves making three. Such a clever girl."

I bit my tongue to keep from making a sarcastic remark.

The vampire sitting upon the middle throne- most likely Aro- stood, throwing his arms out wide. What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all!" He stepped down the steps as we stopped.

He clapped his hands together, walking with normal speed towards us. Honestly, he wasn't that bad looking. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and despite his three thousand year old age, he didn't look a day over thirty. His eyes of course, were red and I liked to image what they would look like if they were golden.

"Isn't that wonderful!" He finished. He reached out for Edwards' hand, "I love a happy ending. They are so rare."

I agreed. They were pretty much nonexistent.

He said something in Italian that I didn't bother understand because- I didn't know Italian. But whatever it was made Aro turn to look at Bella and he said, "Her blood appeals to you so much. . . it makes me thirsty."

I nearly snorted, but kept my attitude. Pretty sure a royal vampire king wasn't the kind of vampire I wanted to piss off.

"How can you stand to be so close to her?"

"It's not without difficulty." Edward responded.

"Yes, I can see that." Aro laughed, still holding Edward's hand. I had thought he only needed to briefly touch it, not hold it for extended periods of time.

I shifted my attention to the two vampires on the other thrones. Caius was even more handsome than in the painting. Not as good as Lucius Malfoy, of course, but still, rather decent. Marcus on the other hand looked like he had never gotten over the English days of King George.

I had clearly missed conversation as Aro turned his eyes to Bella and said, "Fascinating. I would love to see if. . ." He finally dropped Edward's hand, stepping back, "you are an exception to my gifts, as well." He held out his hand. Bella, after some hesitation, stepped forward and gave Aro her hand. "Would you do me the honor?"

I let my gaze wander until it landed on the other vampire again who winked. I smirked and then turned my attention back to Aro who was looking rather perturbed.

"Interesting. I see nothing. I wonder. . ." He turned his back, walking slightly back to his throne, "Let us see if she is immune to all our powers. Shall we, Jane?"

I hesitated for a fraction of an inch. Jane, of course, created pain with her mind. I did not want that to be used on Bella, but at the same time. . . I did not think that it would.

"No!" Edward protested, going to move in front of Bella when I stepped in front of Edward.

"Don't." I warned him. "Edward, stay calm and stay here."

Edward hesitated under my stern gaze and I raised an eyebrow. Jane turned her attention on Bella. Edward went to move and I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't."

We waited, watching as Jane continued to gaze at Bella. Bella gazed back and nothing happened.

Aro started to laugh. I took it back. It was terribly creepy and I was really starting to dislike him. I let go of Edward's shoulder, moving back into the background.

"Remarkable." Aro said, clapping his hands together. Jane stared at him. "She confounds us all."

Aro turned to me, "And who are you?"

"Davina Michaelson." I replied.

"Ah yes, the Cullen mother." Aro said softly. "Carlisle's mate."

I rolled my eyes. "Not really, but sure."

"And does Edward have difficulty reading your mind?" Aro asked.

"No." I replied.

"Might I?" Aro asked, holding out his hand.

"I quite like my privacy, thank you."

"Mom." Edward hissed under his breath.

I wavered, glancing at him and then at Aro who looked intrigued.

If I was going to tell someone all of my deepest, darkest secrets, this vampire was the last person I wanted to know. Not to mention, Edward would be able to see everything as it flashed through Aro's mind.

It was uncomfortable feeling. Aro would know every moment of my life from the moment I was born to now. He would know about my relationship with Carlisle, what happened with my parents, and how I had nearly killed three different vampires using wooden stakes and a lighter.

"Edward, stay out of his head and mine." I said, holding out my hand.

Aro ignored it, stepping forward, his hands on either side of my face, pressing his lips to mine. I was shocked and froze. Memories flooded my mind. My first step, my fourth birthday party, playing in the ocean with Sam, my Uncle Josh greeting us at Fort Knox, Azim, my first kiss, the bombs, the death, the screaming, and everything else up until this moment.

Aro didn't let go of my hand for a very long time. It was cold, like all vampires hands, and there was a smoothness to it that suggested age. Almost soft.

We stared into each others' eyes before he finally let go. "You have one of the most traumatic lives I have ever seen." Aro whispered. "How do you handle it at such a young age?"

"I'm Davina Michaelson. I survive." I stated flatly.

"Strange, and your blood does not appeal to me, nor anyone else in this room." Aro murmured, almost to himself.

"Pretty sure that's a good thing." I said and I saw the man smile out of the corner of my eye. Felix on the other hand rolled his eyes.

"Indeed, although you were Carlisle's blood singer. . ." Aro said slowly.

"He has a theory that I'm one side of the spectrum for every vampire. Either the side that does crave my blood period or the side where I'm the blood singer. It's just lovely." I said sarcastically.

Aro smiled, bemused, "So what are we going to do with you now?"

"You already know what you are going to do, Aro." Marcus said from his throne, slouching like he didn't know what good posture was.

"They know to much. They are a liability." Caius said.

Well, so much for thinking he was good looking. I'd stick with the guy who seemed to like me.

"That's true." Aro said.

"Okay so, we're liabilities now." I stated, "But when we become vampires, that makes us not liabilities, right?"

Aro looked at me, "I did not realize you planned on becoming a vampire."

"Alice promised Bella to change her after we saved Edward from trying to die." I replied.

Edward shot me a look.

"And yourself?" Aro asked, raising an eyebrow.

I titled my head, thinking. "I told Carlisle to give me a few years. I wanted to be at least twenty five or older."

"And you're twenty now?"

"Almost twenty-one." I responded. "Coming April."

Aro tilted his head to the side, judging me. I looked at Alice, "You could show him."

Alice nodded, taking off her glove, extending her hand to Aro who took it in almost delight. I watched as Aro and Alice stared at each other. "Mesmerizing." Aro responded in an almost breathless whisper, "To see what you have seen. . . before it has happened." Aro moved in front of Bella, "Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal." He caressed her cheek. I pursed my lips. I wondered what her gift was going to be.

"Go now." Aro said, backing away from us. "Make your preparations."

"Let us be done with this." Marcus said from his throne. "Heidi will arrive any moment." He stood up.

"Right, time to go." I said, hooking my arm through Alice's.

"Thank you for your visit." Marcus said to us.

Right, well at least he was polite.

"We will return the favor. I would advise that you follow through on your promise soon." Caius said, not rising from his throne. "We do not offer second chances."

Wow, just a ray of sunshine.

"Goodbye, my young friends." Aro said in delight to our backs as we exited the room.

"Nice fishing Heidi." The young man said as we passed by a tall vampire wearing a red dress and black gloves with heels. I felt sick, watching the people file past, especially when I saw that there were two children in the group.

"You have children in the group!" I protested as Edward and Alice led me and Bella faster and farther from the group.

The man looked at me, at first amused, and then almost apologetic. "It happens."

I swallowed hard as I heard the screams. Edward and Alice pushed us through the doors, blocking out the screams.

We went up the elevator.

"Which one are you?" I asked the man. "Santiago or Demetri?"

He looked just the faintest surprised that I knew the names and he said, "Demetri."

"Ah, the tracker." I said with a nod.

He smirked. "Indeed I am. And I think you would make a lovely vampire."

"I'm sure." I smirked.

He brushed my cheek lightly as the doors opened.

"Careful," I warned lightly. "I still bite."

He laughed lightly as I exited the elevator.

"Mom, you shouldn't flirt with him." Edward muttered.

"Yes, well as I am single and not seeing anyone, I have every right to flirt with whoever I feel like." I muttered.

Technically, the Volturi weren't bad people. I supposed if I did become a vampire, I could always come back here. I could see a life as part of the guard, specifically alongside Demetri. But then again, I don't think that would help with my attempts at redemption.

I knew all three of them would be curious about what Aro had meant about my life, but it wasn't any of their business. Edward was safe. Him and Alice would go back to Denali with their family, leaving us alone again.

I wondered if the wolves had caught Victoria yet, or if when we disappeared, she went too.

We caught another plane out of Florence- I had redone my red wig as I had taken it off once we'd landed in Florence the first time.

We landed in Rome and I called Sam.

Emily was the one who picked up, "Davina? Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is fine. I'm on my way home. I need Sam to pick me up at the airport. Or any of the boys for that matter. We land early in the morning, I have no idea what time it is there right now. I just thought you should know."

"Okay, I'll pass along the message." Emily said, sounding exhausted.

"Thanks Em."

I hung up, leaving the bathroom and rejoining Edward, Alice, and Bella as we got ready to board the long flight from Rome to Atlanta.

I fell asleep during the flight as I was exhausted, dreaming about bombs, running, screaming, and vampires.

I woke up with a headache, feeling sicker than I had in days. I drank a sprite to keep it down. Once we landed in Atlanta, I hurried to the bathroom to throw up and once the plane from Atlanta to Seattle was ready to leave, I felt better.

I fell asleep on this flight as well, feeling well rested when I woke up as the flight landed.

Edward, Alice, and Bella were the first off the flight and then Jasper was there, standing in front of Alice.

Aw shit, the family was here.

I looked around quickly, ignoring the blond and red head in the corner. I couldn't deal with Carlisle right now.

"Davina!" I heard a familiar young voice call.

I broke out in a grin, seeing Seth, Jared, and Sam there. I ran over to them, hugging them all fiercely. "Hey guys."

"Why are you wearing a red wig?" Seth asked in confusion. I took it off, stuffing it in my bag along with my fake passport.

"No reason." I lied. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Sure." Sam said, glaring over my shoulder.

"Sam, ignore them." I muttered.

"Are you alright?" Jared asked in concern.

"Yep, just flirted with a few vampires, saved Edward's life, no big deal."

"Alright, well come on mom." Jared said.

"Wait," I paused, really taking in the fact that Seth was here with Sam. I looked from Seth to Sam and then poked Seth's right arm. "Do you have a tattoo there?"

"Oh yeah." Seth grinned, "It's honestly so awesome."

"What colour wolf are you?" I asked.

"Grey." Seth said excitedly. "Leah's one too."

"What!" I exclaimed.

Sam slung an arm around my shoulder, "You smell terrible."

"Thank you ugly." I muttered. "Come on, let's go."

Carlisle P.O.V.

My anxiety swelled as Davina stepped off the plane, looking more beautiful than ever. I felt better than I had in months and I took a moment to see just how sick she was. She was thin, the unhealthy kind of thin, and she didn't give us the time of day, heading straight for the wolves when she landed.

Alice and Edward hesitated, noting my reaction.

"She thinks you hate her." Alice said, sounding apologetic, glancing between Edward and myself. "I think. . . I think you have some things you need to tell both of them Edward."

Edward looked completely ashamed of himself, but was more focused on Bella than anything else, "Yeah, I will."

That wasn't comforting at all.

[vampirelover890]

// OC Origins game!

I am once again attempting to treat this social media platform as a social platform. Thank you to @leahnardo-da-veggie for the tag!

Rules: I want to know how you came up with your original character’s names and personalities. Are they based on people in your real life? Are they straight from your brain? Are they a mix of several people?

I already kinda did this yesterday, but this means I get to talk about some other characters in depth!

Anders:

As mentioned in this post, Anders was originally meant to be a much more timid fellow who became more confidant and scheming while a werewolf, but that was hard to introduce as a concept and so the werewolf evolved into his own personality. Anders and many other characters here are born from my curiosity of the human detached from the human form. How humanity as a trait, the compasion and rage of love and hate, all the emotions that make us human, change in the context of a non-human creature. I have no clue how I came up with Anders, but I know that Deephall came first.

Nicholas Killer:

Nick was a name created for the half baked concept that was my first story on here. I remember vividly how the story itself came to be though; I like chatting with my dad quite a lot and was talking about a movie called Nosferatu featuring Willem Dafoe as a crazed vampire hunter, when he pitched me his idea for a vampire story: a crazy guy who is a menace to public safety looking for a vampire that doesn't exist. I took the idea and ran. I don't necessarily like the story in retrospect mainly because it's rushed and I don't feel I developed Nick enough as a character, but it is still there.

Siobhan:

Is a Gaelic name I found on a cool fantasy name generator while coming up for an alias to a character. I never did get to tell that story, even to the people it was for (dnd group) but that name stuck around in my head for a long time. Siobhan was almost another vampire! I'd had an idea for a vampire who lives minimum wage and has to learn and adapt to the customs of an office job, but I'd already done a vampire story and you can never have too many vampire stories, but I wanted to vary it up a bit, and so I landed on a zombie. (Also go check out Leah's Convenience Store Vampire story for something like what I just described) Siobhan is kind of a blank slate personality wise, only learning to use her wretched voice for evil recently, but she does know she causes harm to others when she eats them. She does it willingly. To live. To experience.

Ava:

I had a hard time figuring out what I should write about next, and sat spinning in a chair for about 30 minutes until I realized I hadn't touched on ol' reliable when it comes to writing; a fighting tournament. You can actually see me express my ideas for a wip over on my main blog. I then had another hard time trying to figure out what the basic plot was, and then I came to a name which got me stumped again. The long and short of it is that Ava is named after a character with the same name from Borderlands 3, because that game is fun, and it was the first one that popped into my head. Ava dismembered her family to learn the ins an outs of the human anatomy to truly understand how necromancers work their magic.

I kinda turned this into a Origins of the story rather than the character themselves, but ultimately I had fun talking my brain off to myself about the little fictional people I imagine in little gruesome scenarios.

I leave this to an open tag, mainly because I have no one to tag, and am too afraid to go out and make friends.