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diamond-coral · 3 years

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The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down.

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America.

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.”

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot.

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through.

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader

190 notes · View notes

flowerwrites06 · 4 years

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break my mind’s eye II — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

“You’re…letting me go?” Belle stared at her manager Yeeun who, by her clear frown was not mistaken in her harsh words. The two stood in the others’ office with her rack of clothing standing hopelessly in the corner of the room.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to book a venue for a designer with no prior backing?” She continued with her berating.

The younger female assumed it must have around an hour since she arrived and began the onslaught of scolding for missing her fashion show. Belle tried to explain that she needed to help her brother out in a personal situation but family commitment apparently to her was not deemed that important.

“I trusted you and you fucking humiliated me in front of fashion critics.” Yeeun gestured wildly before pinching the bridge of her nose. “You had so much potential too.”

Her heart dropped; slowly wishing that she would go back to just scolding her instead of reminding her of what could have been achieved if the fashion show went on. All the building blocks tirelessly built to get to this point now crumbling down. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back what you just threw away.” The older female spoke in brutal honesty as she usually did except it hit Belle harder than normal. “Go on. I can’t help you anymore. Not when there’re plenty of other designers who actually care enough to come to their first fashion show.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip, sun dipping outside casting a dull grey-ish light in the minimalistic office. Photos of all the different designers Yeeun represented now staring down at her in disappointment as she dragged her rack of clothes out of the office.

The morning welcomed sharp chills even through her coat and scarf adorned her body. She grabbed the two pieces of clothing hurriedly since her new wardrobe was organized by Nana who didn’t really know how the girl usually kept everything. Of course that led to a crap load of confusion in the morning when Belle tried to pair something decent and it turned out to be too thin for the temperature she struggled through now.

It didn’t help her situation when her lower belly still ached a little from last night and her head pounded from the lack of proper sleep.

Belle stopped short in front of the office building to see two men standing in front of her, one of them familiar enough for her to realize who they were for. “He’s having you follow me now?” She seethed.

“Master Jeon found out your car was still in the carpark and you took a train so he asked us to drive it here.” Jongho explained plainly, gesturing to the Camry behind them.

Who knew the mere sight of a vehicle could bring this much relaxation in the midst of this stress?

The female sighed pushing the rack towards the hood. “Thank you but please don’t call him ‘Master Jeon’ in front of me.” Belle kept her voice firm, opening the hood and placing all her clothes into an empty box she had with all her discarded designs.

“But we have to.” Jonghos’ brows furrowed, pouting a little; silently reminding that he wasn’t all the much older than any of them, perhaps even younger.

The other guard besides Jongho took the liberty of pushing the rack away in front of the office building.

Belle dared to take another look at the building again. Not too long ago, she walked into this very building with bright eyes and possibly an even brighter future. Memories of Yeeun smiling at her newest designs, approving them to a point where she even got her a chance at a fashion show. Three critics sat at the audience that night and every single one of them looked more important than the last. Unfortunately Belle had someone far more important than any fashion critic or opportunity. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing grew harder and harder to determine.

“Out here, he’s Jungkook.” She spoke still looking up at the building with a more sour expression now at the sound of his name coming from her lips. “And I’m driving.”

Jongho didn’t protest much on the demand and gave her the keys.

“So what’s the real reason Jungkook sent you?” Belle asked as they drove through the city streets. The car had been pleasantly so much warmer than outside or in the train and she grew more thankful as the ice under her skin melted.

Jongho stammered lightly before sighing. “Master—” He cleared his throat. “D-Jungkook did get a little…suspicious that you might try to find a way to get out of the deal. It’s all still—fresh, I guess.”

The female scoffed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “He put my brothers’ life under threat and thinks I’m going to run away like some sorry bitch?” She spat pressing down the urge to stomp on the brakes and hopefully run over Jungkook accidently when they reached the mansion. “You’re both going home.” Belle finalized ignoring any stutter of disapproval from the two males.

“But he—”

“But nothing…if he’s so scared of me running away then he should come meet me himself instead of sending his men.” Past the bustling city, Belle drove into the familiar road towards the secluded mansion.

The last time she drove down this path her life was so much more different than it was now. How could it all just change in the span of a day? All because one man had too much power over others.

Then she stomped on the brakes, the shaking hand of the speed checker accelerating at a worrying rate up to the hundreds.

Muffled tire and engine sounds numbing her ears as her stomach jumped from the push across the slightly graveled road.

Heart pumping adrenaline, fueling the wildfire in her body, pushing away memories of his fucking hands on her skin, the disappointment she brought to everyone even herself.

“Ma’am!” A frightened voice called out from behind her, mentally slapping her back to reality.

Letting out deep breath Belle slowly braked the car again bringing them back down from the rush as the mansion now came into view. “Sorry.” She glanced over at Jongho who looked more concerned for the female compared to the guard at the back who feared for his life in a split second.

Into the courtyard she stared at the collection of guards who once again stood lined up the entrance of the mansion. An intense feeling of déjà vu flushed over her before turning to the two guards. “Alright, out you go. I need to get to work.” Going to the fashion-house now became the only thing that could make her day that little bit better.

“Master Jeon—he’ll be angry at us if we left you alone.”

Belle saw something oddly familiar in Jonghos’ eyes that she couldn’t shake off. Seeing the recognizable glint reminded her that Taehyung was not the only victim to Jungkooks’ power. “If Madame Saito sees two strange men with me, she’s going to try and call the police. I don’t want her involved in this whole mess.” She explained. “Is there any way you can keep yourself hidden so Jungkook at least knows that you were doing your job?” Both men nodded thankfully.

She rested back on the seat, closing her eyes as her body reminded her again of the anxiety burning her from the inside. “I need to get some warmer clothes anyway so stay here.”

Nana told Belle that Jungkook was out all morning and a little bit of the day on important business meetings around the city. Not that the younger female really gave a shit where he went but once again…common fucking courtesy.

The drive to the fashion-house was quiet aside from some light music playing on her radio.

They arrived at Madame Saitos’ fashion-house. An elegant slab of purple and gold with the monogram of the Japanese Kanji symbol that meant ‘elegant’. Belle remembered getting the job a few weeks before her parents passed away. It immediately turned from a dream job to the only thing keeping her from breaking down after Taehyung started going into a downward spiral.

Now more than ever she needed the sweet caress of fresh fabric under her fingers to calm her down, to prevent another incident like the one on the road from happening. As per her request, Jongho and the other guard who later introduced himself as Jisung, opted to walk into a nearby café.

Belle walked through the glass doors, all her worries seemingly melting away at the look of neatly organized clothes on the different shelves and stands. Her clothes fit warm and snug on her now and the level upstairs for designing awaited her arrival.

“Bella, darling!” She heard the familiar voice echo through the building.

Turning to the right Belle couldn’t help but smile seeing the bright woman walk over to her in a gorgeous purple pantsuit. She gave her a small bow which she waved away.

“How many times have I told you? You’re a fellow designer.” Saito tapped her chin which would have made her giggle.

But her stomach dropped when reality sunk in and she realized Saito was wrong. “I’m not a designer anymore.” Belle smiled sadly.

“And why is that?” She raised her own chin, deep purple lips looking more defined and her dark brows furrowed.

It was as if her mind opened up the millions of drawers she tried to lock up to help her survive the rest of the day but the younger female adorned a much smaller smile. “Yeeun let me go. I couldn’t go through the fashion show on a family emergency.”

Saito scoffed loudly before waving her hand. “Managers don’t make designers. Designers make designers.” She pressed hand over Belle’s heart. “She’s one manager, darling. Don’t let it get to you.”

If it were a less strange time than this, Belle would instantly be consoled by Saitos’ words but there was so much more. So many more things she wanted to talk about but she feared no one’s ears were understanding enough. Even she couldn’t hear herself talk about what happened. “Thank you.” She muttered forcing her mind to feel somewhat relaxed.

The older female smiled, patting her cheek. “I have to go personally deliver this to a client.” She rolled her eyes looking down at the cover hanging over her arm. “He’s this big businessman who wants a suit tonight and just needs to thank the designer in person.” She scoffed making Belle chuckle. “You’ll be in charge for the rest of the day, darling.”

Belle’s heart fluttered in excitement as she immediately nodded.

“Oh and…since you have more time on your hands without Yeeun pestering you. I was wondering if you wanted to work on a few designs for the Spring Line.” Saito smiled casually not entirely noticing that fireworks were going off in her mind in celebration.

She was getting a chance at another line. Another opportunity. Belle couldn’t help giggling a little but she quickly stopped herself. “You’re not joking?”

“Of course not. You’re the best designer I’ve had in years.” She patted her shoulder comfortingly. “One thing though, I’ll need four designs by tomorrow morning so we can be ahead of schedule. I’ve done six that you can look at to see what the concept is but let your wonderful mind run wild.”

A light hint of anxiety seeped through the thick elation bursting through her veins but Belle ignored it, merely smiling at the older female as she walked out of the building.

Sun dipped behind the skyscrapers, warm light shining through the glass giving the whole store a deep warm glow as Belle stood in front of the main counter. Hand ached a little from holding onto the pencil for too long. Grey scratches against the ecru paper of flowy trains and minimalistic patterns to symbolize re-birth in some way.

Something she admired about Saito was her excessive need to shy away from the norm of flowers and nature. Maybe thinking a little deeper into what spring meant and really bringing the art out of her fashion. Part of why despite their prices, people still walked in and out purchasing their numbers.

It was a breath of fresh air from the line of fashion and a wonder to behold during Fashion Week.

Unfortunately Belle’s little bubble of inspiration was rudely popped when the door opened with Jonghos’ voice echoing in the building.

“Ma’am…Master Jeon is asking for you at the mansion.” He tried to speak quietly but the walls resonated even the smallest of sounds.

Her brows furrowed, dropping the pencil on the table making her fingers cramp up ever so slightly. “What does he need me for?” Anger rose and burned through her eyes.

“He said it’s important.” Jongho shrugged.

The woman huffed averting her gaze before jumping off her chair. “Did he call you? Is he still on the phone?” Belle stomped over to the male who tried to back away a little but the glass door closed behind him. “What could he possibly want from me now that’s so damn important?” He already got everything else.

“I don’t know, ma’am…he—he didn’t say.”

“Well tell him that I have a lot of work to do and he can wait.” She glared at the young male even though truly he wasn’t the one she was angry at.

Eventually Jongho walked towards the car with slouched shoulders leaving Belle to go back to work on her counter. The scratches were a lot harsher due to her shaky fingers so she reminded herself to re-do some of these sketches again when it was time for coloring.

“Ma’am?” Jongho called out again in a much softer voice.

Belle’s pencil broke off making her fingers curl up into a fist but she forced herself to take a deep breath. “What is it, Jongho?”

“Master Jeon wants to speak with you.” He held out a phone walking towards the counter.

She glanced at the male before down at the phone, accepting it gently and putting it on her ear. “Yes?”

“Are you trying to be a fool?” Jungkooks’ tone took a dark turn from what Belle heard yesterday; more growly and deep like he had been yelling all day.

“I already said I’m working.” Belle muttered calmly. “What’s so important?”

“We need to go to an event. My aunt and uncle have invited me to come tonight and I need you to be there to get rid of any future suitor arrangements.” He explained with that same infuriating voice acting like she was doing something wrong trying to work.

“I need to some things done, Jungkook, can’t we re-schedule a meeting with your aunt and uncle?” Hands brushed away the pieces of led that broke off from her pencil.

“No we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you realize just what’s at stake if you piss me off too much.” He challenged.

“Your deal was that you’ll stay away from Taehyung if I stay with you.” She corrected.

“You should know that I can change deals in an instant.”

Belle gripped onto the phone suppressing the urge to throw it across the room as she gulped down a lump in her throat. Her dormant anxiousness now fully erupting through every limb in her body. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She stated before hanging up not wanting to hear his voice anymore as she gave it over to Jongho.

Angrily packing up her stuff, she decided to let Jongho drive this time to prevent any incidents on the road from her heated up mind.

So much for fucking freedom. He couldn’t even re-schedule a meeting to let her work. Maybe it was an overreaction but looking at the situation, Belle thought that being livid and frustrated was called for.

The sky turned purple by the time they reached the mansion and Belle barely waited for the car to stop before she climbed out. Grabbing her things, she walked through the entrance ignoring any attempt at the guards trying to hold the bags.

“Finally her Majesty has arrived, what took you so long?” Jungkook, already dressed up in a black suit with a white shirt slightly unbuttoned, jabbed at the female right as she walked through the archway.

Belle merely glared at the male walking past him up the stairs while Nana followed her helplessly. The older female almost wanted to apologize for him but couldn’t find the time as she chased her.

In their shared room, Belle placed the bags of her work next to her side of the bed. Tears of frustration flooded in her eyes a little which she tried her best to hide when she saw Nana come up behind her.

“Dear…” She muttered comfortingly but the younger female shook her head.

“It’s okay, please. I’ll get ready myself.” Belle smiled through teary eyes before walking past her.

Ankle length daffodil-yellow dress adorned her freshly showered body, long curls with the top half clipped away from her face and some shoes to match. As she coated her lashes her mind tried to organize how she was going to rush to the event and then come back to finish all the designs. The deeper the thoughts moved, the more anxiety bubbled inside her almost making her makeup application a little dodgy but decent enough.

“Dear, Master Jeon is calling for you.” Nana spoke gently as if knowing that the sound of his name stroke a nerve in her constantly.

“I’m done, I’m coming.” Belle answered, hands leaning against the edge of the vanity table in the walk-in wardrobe trying to calm down her breathing. I hope you’re okay, Taehyung. It was only the first day and she could feel the weight of it all bearing down on her body. For the first time since yesterday, the woman almost wanted to admit that she may be lot more vulnerable than she thought.

Shaking her head roughly she stared at herself in the mirror. Dusty rose lips mimicking the light hint of colour on her cheeks and a glimmering eyes mostly from the illusion in the shimmery eyeshadow. At least she looked put together. Her body and mind were a whole different story.

Nana held onto her hand as they walked down the stairs, Belle held onto the dress to ensure she didn’t trip and make her stressful day even worse. Little bits of her hair dropped over her face but it was only when she reached the end.

Her eyes slowly trailed up to see Jungkook staring at her up and down the way he did the first time they met.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her outfit for a moment, seeing absolutely nothing wrong but Jungkook must have had something to say.

The man stayed silent for a few minutes shifting in his position. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He muttered coldly walking to the exit with three of his guards already walking behind him like robots.

Belle followed the trail, gripping at her clutch purse.

Dull blue hue adorned the sky when they were outside. The guards dispersed to the sides giving Belle way to move forward where she saw Jungkook looking over his shoulder as if he was searching for someone.

Not a word uttered, Jungkook raised an arm and let it hover over her back as they walked towards the luxurious black Sedan shining even in this grey-ish light.

Throughout the car ride, Belle tried to ask Jungkook what the event was for and what they would be doing for the rest of the night. All her questions answered with detached replies that gave her no explanation whatsoever making it highly difficult to keep her patience.

“At least tell me how long it’s going to be?” She asked in a much softer tone now.

“An hour or something, alright? Now just keep quiet and don’t embarrass me.” Jungkook snapped before looking out the window.

Belle wanted to be shocked at the sudden change in behavior from the dashing and charming man she saw yesterday but this just served as a good reminder. This was all a fucking joke. She was dressing up to play pretend with a scum of a man who had no care for anyone but his own needs and reputation.

The momentary silence broke by muffled sounds of flashing cameras and people calling out or yelling at the glimmering bodies on the carpet.

Jungkook had the car door opened for him and the second he walked out, he could hear the people growing more restless and the cameras going wild.

Belle shifted towards his side now keeping her clutch purse on her chest.

He held his hand out and she accepted it to keep up appearances, adorning an elegant smile on her rosy lips. Their fingers intertwined with one another as they walked past them with their personal line of guards on each side.

Sounds of violins made her ears prick up and the smell of chocolate touched her nostrils, her stomach rumbling a little. Thankfully the incessant noise from every corner was able to conceal it.

The event hall shone in golden light with a crystal chandelier centering the ceiling, buffet standing on the far left, slow dancing in the middle and a sitting area on the far right. People were crowded but nothing like a bustling city. Instead of strangers pressing against each other in trains or trying to push past to get to work, people kindly slithered through crowds or made pleasant conversation before they moved onto the next group.

Though Belle despised the reasoning for being here, for years this was an event she has always wanted to attend. The class, the culture, the clothes; all of it surrounded her like a welcoming hug and she didn’t really protest when Jungkook led her further into the hall.

Fake elegant smile now melted into something more genuine as she curiously peered over at the performers in gold satin dresses dancing in the middle of the hall. On her left, a vast selection of foods, some she didn’t even recognize but the chocolate fountain wasn’t hard to detect and her stomach shouted again.

“Auntie!” Jungkook called out, his usual sour mood moved to a smile as he leaned to press a kiss on an older womans’ cheek.

The lady looked as elegant and bright as the hall they were in, wearing a white dress with golden hair pins in her neat bun while the man next to her—Jungkook’s uncle wore the same simple suit his nephew did. Except he had a bow on unlike her ‘partners’ more unkept look. “I’m so happy you could be here!” His aunt cheered softly, her wide smile showing off all the lines on her face.

“Why would I not? Your events are always my favorite.” He smiled again almost to a point where Belle almost suspected it may have been fake.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” His aunt nodded at the younger male whose lips twitched a little making him grin wider.

This one looking a lot more obviously forced.

His aunt turned to the side and called someone over. A woman who looked around their age, tall and slender with long black hair flowing past her lower back and her body adorning an azure dress, loosely stitched rhinestones in large clusters. All of that topped up with some bright red lipstick and shimmering blue eyeshadow to match the clothes. She gave Jungkook a big, advertisement smile.

Belle felt Jungkooks’ hand leave her and immediately hold his out towards the woman which she accepted happily. She introduced herself as Suyeon, only side-glancing her before fixating her gaze on the man instead.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Suyeon.” His charming tone sounded all too familiar.

“I think you two would hit it off really well.” Her aunt declared already off of a two second conversation. Finally the older woman managed to look over at her. “And who’s this?”

Jungkook hummed in question before looking at Belle. “Right this is—” He paused for a moment staring at the woman as if he was already starting to have second thoughts. “This is a friend…Belle.”

Belle smiled at the three new people even though her heart burned with anger at how quickly he changed his mind.

“Of course.” His aunt smiled.

The four elites dived into deep conversation as Belle quietly smiled and admired the performances instead; hoping they would distract her somehow. None of them really cared about her presence here which didn’t help her fury towards Jungkook.

Ah Jungkook.

He who conveniently shifted on the other side of her so he could stand next to Suyeon instead, conversing with her pleasantly. Everything about their deal now seemed long forgotten leaving Belle to worry about the fate of her brother.

“So…uh—” Suyeon spoke towards her now.

“Belle.” She answered softly, keeping up with that smile tiresomely.

“I’ve never seen you in these kinds of parties before.”

“This is my first time.”

“Ah—” Suyeon gave her a fake smile. “Makes sense.” She eyed her up and down as the other three of them laughed.

Even Jungkook didn’t seem to stop finding it funny.

“I mean…no offense, darling but yellow isn’t really a nice color for these events. They look a little—childish.” Venom flowed from her tongue when she spewed those words.

Whatever anxiety burning Belle from the inside now was momentarily pushed down as the fashion lover inside her scurried up. “It’s called daffodil…not yellow.” She emphasized the word making it sound like an uncouth description to use. “If we are talking about childish, perhaps you could take a closer look at the plastic rhinestones on your dress hanging on for dear life on a single thread.” She looked at her up and down this time. “I highly doubt that’s Louis Vuitton work.”

Her words silenced the four of them immediately. Suyeons’ photo-worthy smile now turned into an ugly frown, the aunts’ brows were raised in intrigue and Jungkook stared at her in shock. Belle merely smiled as the older woman of the group tried to change the topic now into something more lighthearted.

Once the confidence drowned out, anxiety kicked in again wanting to walk out of this vicinity right now and never look back. The four of them dispersed a little but Jungkook walked straight to her, holding her arm and bringing her close. “Behave yourself, alright? There’s no need to be rude.”

Belle scoffed yanking out of his grip and walking towards the buffet hoping that some food would help her mood. The clip in her hair began to prick at her aching head and her shoes felt like they were tighter by the minute. Nothing felt right about this night.

“Oh Belle…” She heard a drawling, sickly sweet voice.

Just her luck. Looking over to her side, she gave Suyeon a similar grin trying to look as friendly as possible even though their previous interaction was anything but that. “Suyeon—”

“I hope there’s no hard feelings about my comment.” There was no genuine nature in her tone in the slightest but Belle played along, once again playing pretend that everything was going swell.

“It’s all forgotten.” She shook her head.

“I also hope you could give me some more fashion advice.”

Belle turned to look at the female and a dampening chill trailed all the way down from her chest to her torso, body stepping back in shock. She looked down at her daffodil dress now stained with red almost forming into an orangish color. Gasps echoed throughout the room and she could feel the stares on her. Staring up at Suyeon, she was holding out an empty glass with a sinister smirk on her face.

“What color is that, little rat?”

“Suyeon!”

Belle could’ve sworn she heard Jungkooks’ aunts’ yelling but she was already heading for the bathroom, the whole day picked at her final straw.

If in a better mood, her eyes would have been shining in glee at the gorgeous white marble bathroom with bright gold detail. But right now they were flooding with hot tears that stained down her cheeks. Body shivering a little from the harsh chill on her entire front, some pieces of her hair completely damp and the skin on her chest reddened as well.

Belle whined lightly under her breath, lips quivering as she grabbed some tissues and dabbed off the excess liquid not wanting to face the crowd outside.

She heard a woman squeal a little when the door opened but she couldn’t care less to look.

Her head was numb, her body flushing from hot to cold and her body too stubborn to stop shaking from the cold and anxiety.

Finally her eyes flickered to the mirror to see a familiar figure standing next to her. The mere sight of him caused her to sigh in elevated frustration. “If you’re just going to yell at me—” Belle spoke in a cracked voice.

“I saw what she did.” Jungkook immediately replied in a mutter.

Belle sniffled washing off the liquid from the ends of her hair, feeling her clothes now sticking to her dampened skin.

The male padded closer reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” She backed away as one hand held onto the dripping hair. “You chose your wife, now leave me alone.” Belle hated that Jungkooks’ previous behavior created a lump in her throat, fresh tears arriving at the brim of her eyes.

A sigh passed his lips as he lowered his head, leaning against the edge of the counter. “Her joke wasn’t funny.” Jungkook murmured. “I just laughed for the sake of my aunt, she stares at my every move when I make conversation with these suitors. I can never seem to gain the courage to upset her.” He shifted in his position. “Truth be told, you were the most beautiful one here.”

Belle shook her head, another tear dropping down her cheek even after touching up her makeup. “I just wanna go home…” She tried to hug herself but it only made the clothes on her front more uncomfortable. “Please.”

Jungkook searched the womans’ expression finding nothing but distress and discomfort in her whole being. He nodded before shrugging off his coat with a sigh. “Here.” He held his coat out.

She hesitated for a moment glancing up at the man before caving as she draped the coat on. Thankfully it was big enough to cover up most of her dress. Once again his hand hovered over her back as they walked out of the bathroom.

Most of the people were back to their own conversations save for Jungkooks’ aunt who still looked worriedly at the two.

“I didn’t know she was going to behave like that, sweetie.” His aunt genuinely looked like she regretted inviting the menace to the event. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She rubbed her shoulder a little.

Belle smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk to you at a better time, auntie.” Jungkook kissed her cheek again before they walked out of the hall in silence.

Trying their best to ignore the paparazzi, the two were led into their car and were driven home in silence. Belle scooched on the far side on the back seat looking out the window hoping that this day would end. But it couldn’t.

Heat flushed at the back of her neck when she looked at the time. Her work tomorrow would start at around nine after she paid a visit to Taehyung in the rehab center. So that left only a few hours with no sleep to finish the rest of her designs for the spring line. Right up until they reached the mansion, her head began planning all the ways she would keep herself awake and finish the job she was set.

“What happened, mistress?” Nana asked and Belle just replied that a snake got a hold of a wine glass before they walked upstairs.

Jungkook walked over to the bar the last time she glimpsed back only for a second.

Forcing herself to have a cold shower, she put on simple pair of grey sweatpants and a matching sweater with her hair up in a ponytail. Her body million times more comfortable now in dry and warm clothing while her dress was being soaked. Annoyance washed over thinking of the possibility that she might not be able to take the stain off.

Belle sat on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, the perfect place to lay out all her designs and begin her sketching session.

Jungkook walked into the room when she was figuring out where to add details on one of her dresses. He paused a little looking at her deeply engrossed in her work.

She merely glanced at the male before going back to her tasks. Talking to him or even looking at him would only remind her of the time he stole away and for what? Humiliation and a wine stain on one of her favourite dresses? Belle even physically shook her head at the thought. The fact he even threatened to break the deal for this shit only worsened the fury.

But she couldn’t break any more pencils over her anger. Now Belle had to work. If anything needed to go well, it was this. So as the hours kept ticking away, the woman did nothing but do what she did best.

While Jungkook giving one last glance at her, fell fast asleep on the bed assuming she might just come there when she’s ready.

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

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carllisle · 4 years

Note

How do you think Esme argued with Rosalie, Emmett or Edward? How is she dealing with their shenanigans? Could you imagine first argument between her and Edward?

sorry it’s taken so long for me to get to this ask! thank you for asking, it means a lot that you have asked my opinion! i hope you're having a lovely day/evening/night

so in midnight sun we get a glimpse of how understanding and patient Esme is on the day of the baseball game when Edward notes that Esme had been trying to talk to Rosalie all afternoon about Bella and the Bella/Edward situation and even that they were holding hands when they were talking abt it on the baseball field. Edward also notes earlier that when Rosalie was first turned, Esme had a great deal of patience with Rosalie. Now, let’s be real, no one has an endless amount of patience, not even a vampire and there must have been something that would make her crack. I think that Esme was a willing ear when Rosalie mourned the human life she lost and how much she hates immortality and resents Carlisle for giving it to her. She probably encouraged Rosalie to talk to Carlisle about it to get it all out in the open and move past it as best as she could, but after a few years of still being resentful to Carlisle and calling him all the names under the sun Esme probably snaps. This would probably be because she saw how much Carlisle was hurting from Rosalie’s words and how much that added to his self-loathing. I think she argued with Rosalie and pointed out as sensitively as she could that without Carlisle, Rosalie would be dead and wouldn’t have any kind of life, and isn’t this half-life better than nothing? Would she really prefer death over life with Emmett? And that Carlisle thought he was doing the right thing by saving her! he deserves forgiveness and understanding, just as she deserves patience and compassion. I think Rosalie scoffed and said she never asked to be saved but after Esme put it like that she perhaps did some reflection and came to forgive him somewhat because after all he did give her some kind of life, and he gave her Emmett.

Clearly Esme and Rosalie are very close but I think Rosalie’s stubbornness is perhaps a point of contention for them. Esme is also kind and compassionate and I think someone like Rosalie would find that annoying sometimes, because sometimes she just wants to rant and rave and be angry without someone trying to fix it, you know? Sometimes she just needs to have a good bitch about something and not have Esme try to fix it or ‘look on the bright side’.

As Emmett is fairly easy-going and so is Esme, I can’t think of anything specific that they would argue about. Probably just small little tiffs here and there that are to be expected between adults that live in the same household - dirty shoes in the house, being messy/not doing his share of the household chores, getting irritated at her nagging, just common stuff. Given her past, when Edward and Emmett were rough-housing after his transformation I’m not sure she would have the courage to ask them to be more careful right away and maybe Carlisle asked them on her behalf. Later on in their relationship, I’m sure it became more of a reminder than an argument. Maybe she found his cavalier attitude about slip-ups upsetting, as Emmett seems to find slip-ups as an unavoidable part of their nature, whereas I imagine Esme to be deeply affected by each life she takes. Perhaps when he is trying to comfort her after she kills someone he makes an off-hand remark about how these things happen, it’s alright, and she blows up at him because she is so upset and she drills into him how it’s not alright. I’m not sure it would be an argument, though, because Emmett would likely apologise and so would she for misdirecting her anger at him.

God with Edward it’s so hard to know because SMeyer is criminal in writing Esme’s devotion to her son. We’re supposed to believe that she was happy to leave Bella in New Moon, because of Edward’s remarks in Midnight Sun that Esme didn’t care about anything except his happiness, but I call bull. SMeyer writes her so 2-dimensionally. Esme is such a kind and loving person and over the summer between Twilight and New Moon we can only assume that Bella spent a huge amount of time with the Cullens and that her relationship with them all developed immensely. In my head, this means especially Alice, Emmett, and Esme. Look how devastated she was when they left, and in New Moon it’s explicitly clear that it’s not just because Edward left, but because they all did! Now would Esme be happy about Edward deciding to leave her instead of turn her? Absolutely not. Would she try to put her foot down and convince him to stay? Yes. When he argued back and refused to be swayed by her, would she ultimately follow his wishes? Unfortunately yes. I imagine there was still an argument between the two of them as Esme could easily put herself in Bella’s shoes and imagine what it would do to her.

Esme joined Carlisle and Edward during Edward’s early years as a vampire and perhaps there were remarks made when Edward accidentally heard her thoughts and she resented that (even though she knew it was not his fault). She likes Tanya a lot and probably tried to get Edward to reciprocate Tanya’s affections or at least give her a chance and Edward firmly answered why he didn’t want Tanya in that way. Similar to her arguments with Rosalie, I think Esme argued with Edward about their nature as vampires. In my head, Esme is in touch with her faith as a Christian, always working to make sure her faith evolves with the world and always working on her relationship with God, scripture, and those she loves. I think she fundamentally disagrees with Edward about their souls and argues that they are not damned, they are not soulless, and they are not evil. She argues that Edward is not evil despite his countless murders nor is he damned for them, at which point Edward replies that he doesn’t regret his murders and he is not sorry, therefore he cannot ask forgiveness and he cannot be absolved, and he is doomed to the fiery pits below. Esme huffs but can’t fault his logic. So I imagine they have theological debates that can stray into passionate arguments. Carlisle is left on the sidelines and once again is stuck between the beliefs of his son, and the beliefs of his wife, still not knowing which argument he agrees with more.

In terms of their first argument, I think it was about Charles. I’ve explored it in my long fic This New Life (ch 12 if ur interested teehee) where Edward is so enraged by the memories of him that Esme has that he wants to hunt him down. At this point in time Edward has never killed a person and despite the built up rage he had for Charles, Esme didn’t want him to go after him because she couldn’t bear for Edward to kill a person - even a person like that - in her name. I think she argued passionately for him to let Charles live because she couldn’t have lived with the guilt if Edward had killed him. She feared that it would be a mark on Edward’s soul and she would look at Edward and see the sin and see the man she hated. I think this argument was pretty passionate. Once Carlisle knew the extent of what Charles had done I believe he sided reluctantly with Edward for a while and agreed that Charles did not deserve to live, although deep down Carlisle wanted to exact revenge for the horrors committed against the woman he loved. After Esme pointed out (passionately, emotionally) that they were trying to control her and make decisions for her just like Charles had done, Carlisle backed off and allowed his mind to be changed and he joined Esme in asking Edward not to go against her wishes.

Once he got back from his travels as feminist vigilante legend, a trip during which Charles was his first ever victim, I think Esme was so overwhelmed to have him home that she didn’t even care about Charles. Edward justified himself pretty quickly by saying that he would have gone on this spree anyway and committed all these murders, so he was just one in many, and that was good enough for Esme tbf, and it allowed her to move on finally.

Sorry, this got really long and rambly but I hope it made sense! Thank you again for asking!

#anon #ask #this new life #headcanon #ellie writes

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

Text

MY THOUGHTS ON THE CULLEN CAR PROFILES IN THE GUIDE: PART 1

So I finished reading the Cullen Cars section in the Guide, and guys it is PAINFUL how obviously this was written by, not just a motorhead, but a car nerd.

This section, obviously, was written by Meyer's brother, Jacob. And the end-result was exactly what I was afraid of: each one reads like it was copy-pasted from the promotion pamphlets.

The entries on the more day-to-day cars are full of car-jargon like "lateral acceleration" and "front-biased weight distribution", without telling the reader in any fun way or layman's terms what any of that means, common sense aside. We've all had to listen to a car buff drone at some point and this is that. These entries are just slightly overly technical and don't actually say much about the cars' personalities.

He calls the Porsche "seemingly less race[ing]-inspired" than more expensive super cars, but one of the biggest ways Porsche made a name for themselves was with the original 911's and it was on EUROPEAN RACING STAGES. WTH!!!

WORST OF ALL, THOUGH, are the entries on Edward's Aston Martin and Bella's Ferrari. These are full of goo-goo eyed, rose tinted drivel. It is telling, to me, that these more highly engineered cars don't get much of an info dump about their suspension or advanced technology or any of the stuff we got with the daily drivers. With Edward's Aston we get things like

"... a car that has the looks, performance and competence of a true sports car, while offering enough luxury to call into into question its sporting nature."

And

"While technically (Dude. what? "Technically"? I'm sorry?) a sports car, the British-made Aston is the proper gentleman of the group... made in true British style, every ounce of this car alludes to old-world money, power and manners."

He also calls it merely "competent on racetrack and says its better as a high-performance cruiser when, like, no bro. This was supposed to be the shouty racer and the DB9 is the high performance luxury GT (Grand Tour) car. You utter pillock.

Now I'm not gonna argue any of the praise for the Ferrari because I feel more confident in that, from the testimony of people who've owned one. It was at the time (And may still be, if you aren't that dazzled by the 458) the best car in the world.

That said look at this:

"The car's beautifully designed lines and curves remind the viewer more of classical Italian sculpture than anything related to transportation."

LOL. Now don't get me wrong the Ferrari F430 is a very pretty car.

Not everyone thinks so (and to be fair, once you see the "Smile" in the front end, you can't unsee it), but I do. BUT EVEN I, AN ADMIRER OF THE FANCY CARS, do not think that is, in any way, more related to art than driving. PUH-LEASE. That is a very beautiful car, but it is still just a car. If you want to talk about a car being more closely related to Italian sculpture that transportation, then go find an Alfa Romeo fawn over. Because that really is all they're good for.

Because the thing is, Ferrari are kind of like... how do I wanna put this. Okay well let's say Ferrari are the Gryffindor of the car world. Everyone wants to be a Ferrari owner. They have a long pedigree and they, historically and presently make great cars with all the latest advancements and technology. They're like a black dress or a red rose - no one will argue with the classics. But to me at least, they kind of lack... well, personality. It's kind of taken for granted that a Ferrari is gonna be the best car in any given line-up, without anyone ever actually explaining why. It might be, I think, that Ferrari have become a bit overrated. That's not to say that Ferrari shouldn't be given due respect, especially for something like the F430, but here's where I have an issue.

In my Cullen Car post about Bella's Ferrari, I posed the question: was the Ferrari chosen for Bella because it both captures how Edward has always seen Bella, even before she was strong and beautiful in her own estimation, and because it's user friendly, easy to get the best out of it, and actually, surprisingly, suits her personality pretty well As flashy as the F430 seems at first glance, in it's sleek, low-slung, super car way, it still looks purposeful. It's not ostentatious, other than that it's red. It doesn't over-do it in the way, say, a Lamborghini does. It's not out to grab attention, it's here to do what it loves and is good at and that's driving.

Unfortunately, it turns out my concern was justified, because what Jacob's profile on the F430 has confirmed for me is that Bella's Ferrari was chosen simply because it was the prettiest, most impressive "best" car on the market at the time. Had Breaking Dawn taken place in 2010, it would have been a 458, and that's sad - because that truly wouldn't have suited Bella at all.

Look at it.

I think all of this is because, and this is just speculation, but I'll be willing to bet that Jacob's never actually driven any of these cars. The way it goes with most car enthusiasts, I think, is that we see these super fancy, beautiful cars (these in the pantheon of Super/Hyper half-million dollar cars) and we treat them like celebrities. We form opinions based on their looks, we read reviews of them in Car and Driver and things like that, and from the makers themselves - all venues designed, at the end of the day, to sell them.

I've admitted that a lot of my opinions are formed from watching Top Gear and maybe that doesn't make me any better, but what I like about the reviews done by people like Jeremy Clarkson and Richard Hammond is that they don't skimp on pointing out faults as well as favors, even on cars they love and respect, and they always do it in an entertaining way that holds my attention and gives a sense of personality beyond the car's looks and what their manufacturers say they can do. I can't say I would totally agree with their opinions if I ever did get a chance to drive any of these cars, but I at least I can feel some trust in their experience; and they do discuss all these cars in comparison to other contemporaries, and a lot of the time they disagree too, and that gives me more perspective to work with.

Because, like celebrities, even Ferraris have faults. Just because it's a hugely respected brand, like Aston Martin, doesn't mean that every aspect of that car is gonna be faultless and brilliant. Jacob never mentions the Vanquish's shitty gearbox because Jacob has probably never had to deal with it. Neither have I, but I think a certain degree of circumspection is warranted.

I've spiraled a bit here, I didn't intend to be so long winded, but I'm passionate about this. I'm gonna cut off here and do a part 2.

#cullen cars #edward cullen #bella cullen #twilight saga #twilight renessaince #alice cullen

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

Text

01. AN IMPOSSIBILITY

i stumbled upon a post you can read here from @bellasredchevy from like a year ago where she expanded on an au where bella & edward switch places where bella is a vampire in the cullen family and edward is a human. we’re all social distancing (or we all SHOULD be unless u have work so if ur out partying take ur ass home boo) so i had time to kill & i thought i’d write a chapter hehe.

It was an impossibility for me to have missed the presence of my adopted brother entering the room. What with my astute senses, my supernatural sensitivity to everything – the microscopic details of the book page’s porous beige paper, the length of his shadow stretching onto the floor beneath the novel in my hands, cast from the golden light of the hallway, the smooth, feathery finish of the paper under my frozen fingers, the whooshing sound of air caressing his mountainous stature as he appeared, the soft yet heavy thud of his feet against the floor – a sound nearly imperceptible, the impossible to place scent of something like bergamot, white cedar, rose, and sandalwood perfuming the room at his appearance. An impossibility, and yet, my focus was so invested in the words inked on the page, enamored with a story I’d read a hundred, a thousand, a million times, that I found myself shocked when the novel surprisingly ripped down the spine into two perfect halves before my eyes, another one of my novels that he had plucked off the shelf barreling towards my face. He had thrown the other book with such force that in the process of his attempt to grasp my attention, he knifehand-striked a book I had taken from my mother Renee’s sad little toilet-reading, bathroom basket collection of a library.

I was on my feet hunched towards him infinitesimally, the book that had been less than a centimeter from crashing into my face tenderly clutched in my right hand, my lips pulled back over my teeth to let out a snarl. The right half of the original novel I had held fell onto the floor with a thump a moment later. He stood crouched as well, a wicked smile spread on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He loved provocation – eliciting this kind of response in me fueled him. A fight with some authentic irritation, a fight with an edge.

“Time for school, baby sister,” He raised an eyebrow, inviting the challenge.

“Emmett,” I hissed through my teeth, tensed to launch myself at him. Part of my mind sifted through a dozen plans of attack, strategizing what would be my most successful method of taking him down since he was pretty much insurmountable. He had all the strength and all the size. Stealth would be my greatest chance. Another part of my mind pulsed with irritation, an irrational, furious mood swing sweeping over me. The kind of emotional response only our kind could experience...or handle. I nearly saw red as the rest of the words flew through my lips. “Couldn’t you have told me that without destroying a priceless artifact of my human life, big brother?”

I made the name sound like a curse word.

“Artifact?” Emmett snorted. “Please. How many times have you read that same damn story in the past few years? I did you a favor,” he smirked as he feigned right and left so fast that it was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

I tensed to hurl myself forward at the opportune moment before a tsunami tide of calmness washed over the room along with an earthy aroma of citrus, patchouli, musk, and leather. “We really should be leaving now,” my other adopted brother Jasper murmured in his lightly southern accent as he appeared.

“Restricting as it may be, vehicles only allow up to a certain speed, and Esme wouldn’t like for us to be late,” my tiny sister materialized by his side in a blur of porcelain skin and inky black hair. “Although, maybe she’d get a kick out of a call home for tardiness,” Alice laughed, a sound like windchimes. “I can tell you who would have won or you could have your fight later.”

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned in disappointment, dropping his stance. “It’s so hard to get her that riled up. Fuck!” He complained, grumpily disappearing from the room in a flash.

“Later,” He promised under his breath from the garage.

“You would have won,” Alice mouthed, her beautiful lips stretching into a secretive smile as she winked. She picked up the other half of the novel I had purposefully dropped to catch the meteor Emmet had propelled, tossing it in the air towards me in one fluid motion.

I grinned to myself, gently tucked the other book back into its rightful place on the shelf across the room, and caught the ruined piece before it hit the ground. My face immediately dropped into a frown as I analyzed both halves. Fortunately, Pride and Prejudice was not beyond repair. I could mend the division by sewing it back together down the spine later. I set the injured book down and flew downstairs not a moment later. As I passed my adopted mother on the way to the door, I pecked her on the cheek before exiting the house and sliding into the dark leather backseat of the pearly white car next to Alice. Without checking the mirrors, Rosalie sped out of the garage as soon as the door lifted enough for us to clear.

The trees outside the windows were a green haze as we flew by, our speed only decreasing when we arrived in the main part of town among other drivers. We could have ran to school much, much faster – and thus not had any concern about tardiness – but without our cars for appearance, our show might prove unconvincing. It wasn’t abnormal to walk to school in the unrelenting pouring of rain in our small town of Forks, Washington. However, though few people in town knew the location of our home, perhaps the front office ladies might find it concerning that a group of teenagers trekked a half marathon to their classes. It was unlikely they’d care to look up the address from our files, but we were never too cautious.

I liked running. I had been characterized as very clumsy in my human life, so it was a welcome change to feel graceful and coordinated. It was a welcome change to feel powerful. It was, however, unwelcome to participate in the daily charade of masquerading as exactly the opposite of that. As much as I had enjoyed my afterlife, I loathed the same thing many teenagers did, a hatred that may be my greatest commonality with the humans that surrounded me.

High school. I didn’t mind school prior to my immortal life. I had been decent and even above-average in most subjects. I had been a responsible, diligent, and quiet seventeen year old: I paid attention, I completed assignments in time, I spent most of my time in solitude which allowed me ample time to study. There were subjects I enjoyed far more than others that kept things interesting enough for me. Unfortunately, after a number of graduations, high school lost any potential interest and became something of a purgatory. Even classes like English lost their charm over time. Once you had spent years studying literature from the greatest professors, scholars, and writers both living and dead, it was immensely rare for a small town high school English teacher to offer a new take that would make my attendance worthwhile.

Attending high school provided us with the opportunity to remain in one place longer, so complain as much as I want, I suppose it’s something to fill the endless amounts of time. Still, that didn’t make the obligation any more tolerable.

Rosalie hummed along to a song playing quietly through the speakers while Emmett sulked in the passenger seat over having missed out on a fight. I smiled, a bit smug. On the other side of Alice occupying the middle seat, I sensed Jasper’s head jerk slightly in my direction to see the expression that reflected my slight change in mood. I shook my head, still smiling, and he smirked a bit himself before returning his attention back to his window. His scarred hand traced affectionate circles onto Alice’s hand in her lap, and she stared forward, her unfocused eyes seeing not what was in front of her, but the potential realities of the future.

They were a gifted couple. We become immensely enhanced when we’re transformed from being human, and as a result, some immortals are equipped with a special gift on top of their already unparalleled supernatural senses. Our creator and father figure Carlisle theorized that our strongest traits from our human life develop in even stronger ways once we’ve been changed. Jasper’s influential nature flourished into a skill of sensing and manipulating the emotional climate of those around him. Alice’s gift was even more unique. She could see into the future. We didn’t know what in her human life this had developed from. Her past is a secret to not only us, but Alice as well.

I too was gifted. For some time, we had no idea until I had met our cousins. In Denali, Alaska, there was another coven similar to us not just in kind but in diet and ideology who we considered extended family. Another commonality we share is that they also have gifted immortals among their coven. One of the only males, Eleazar’s, gift was sensing the abilities of other vampires, and he had detected my ability. He revealed, to all of our surprise, that I was something called a mental shield. It’s a talent of blocking out any powers that could invade my mind, and it is absolutely, entirely useless to me. I didn’t have a need for this kind of protection. My gift was a complete waste.

The drizzling rain was picking up into a steadier shower as we pulled into the small parking lot of Forks High School. Scenting the earthy, fresh stormy air was the tempting fragrance of the students’ pulsing blood as they ran for the dry cover of the maroon brick buildings. I was entirely satiated from my most recent hunt. Still, my throat burned with the slight dryness that would never completely go away. Jasper sighed.

There were only a few late stragglers hurrying from their vehicles towards their classes that could potentially see us, but as Rosalie parked, we moved at the frustratingly slow pace of the humans around us as a precaution. No risks. After exiting the car, Alice tossed me my backpack of useless school material from the trunk. I slid one strap over my shoulder and departed from my siblings for my first class.

The rest of the morning dragged along like a slow, drawn out sigh. I spent most of the time in my classes thinking of ways I could reorganize the book shelves in my room again. By genre, by author name, by theme, by year published, by year the story takes place, by favorite author, by alphabetical order of the location the story was set, by date of author’s death, by favorite to least favorite protagonist, by which accumulated the most pieces of literary criticism, by section that each family member might enjoy the most, by order in which I first read each, by order of which I read most to least, by order of which my family had read most to least, by alphabetical order of the antagonist’s name, and by which was least to most realistic were all ways I had structured my personal library in the past few years. I was toying with the idea of organizing by order of the birthday of the first character introduced, but a lot of the birthdays had not been established throughout the plot. I would have to decide where they would fit throughout the year based on which zodiac sign I might consider them to have depending on their character traits. Not that I held much stock in astrology – horoscopes did me no good when I had a future-telling sister.

The only difference in this day than any other day was that the trivial gossip I unintentionally overheard throughout the hallways concerned a new addition to the student body. This stirred up a lot of interest seeing as the majority of the children here knew each other for the entirety of their lives. What I had gathered in passing was that it was a junior boy named Edward Masen from Chicago who had recently moved from living abroad with his family. The girls were very excited – they considered him a very attractive potential new love interest. Attractive, though those who had been brave enough to speak to him found him to be impenetrable despite his charm. I wondered what the boy would make of me and my family.

I joined my siblings at our lunch table, the farthest table from everybody else in the room. In front of each of us was the prop of a lunch tray piled with unappetizing food. Alice sat, staring forward with empty eyes again, living in her own ever-changing reality. Jasper and Emmett made a hacky sack out of an apple and subtly kicked it back and forth in the air beneath the table, the apple moving too fast for human eyes to detect. Rose twirled a piece of her golden hair around in her hands, disinterested. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were all of ours. Occasionally she participated in their game by intercepting the apple with her foot.

“The new student’s going to ask about us in approximately fifteen seconds,” Alice chirped, her face returning to the present.

Emmett chuckled quietly.

“What will be said, and how will the boy respond?” Rosalie asked, her foot sending the apple reeling toward the ceiling.

Alice caught the apple in her slender, white hand before tossing it back to Emmett to end the game. “No different than anything else that’s been said, and no different than anybody else.”

I scanned the cafeteria to find the new student, so I could place a face to the upcoming conversation I’d be listening in on.

My eyes locked with a pair of soft green eyes set in a pale, angular face beneath an untidy mess of strange bronze hair. I looked away immediately but caught the beginning jolt of shock lighting up those surprisingly wise eyes.

“Who are they?” The boy gasped. So it had been my gaze that brought Alice’s vision to life. No doubt he’d immediately recognize the subtle differences that distinguish our kind from his. Emmett and I exchanged a glance, laughing under our breath as another junior student I recognized as Naomi Parker provided the common knowledge of the strange Cullen children. The story was complicated. In Forks, the explanation for our family was that Carlisle had adopted his twin niece and nephew, Rosalie and Jasper Hale, after the unexpected passing of his much older half-brother. Similarly, after a tragic car accident took the lives of Esme’s parents in addition to her aunt and uncle, she took in her younger siblings, Emmett and I, along with her niece Alice to look after us. Bonding over the shared experience of so much responsibility so young, Carlisle and Esme eloped, and we formed one giant, misshapen family.

Instinctively, I caught the apple in my hand just as it nearly turned into applesauce by means of collision with my stone face. I snarled at Emmett’s hysteric expression, hiding my hand from view so that anyone watching would have missed the entire catch. “Would you quit doing that today!?”

Rosalie shot Emmett a disapproving look. He shouldn’t be so irresponsible when we were clearly on display for the new Masen kid. I shot a minute glance towards his table to make sure they were no longer watching us. The boy seemed to be focused on the information he was receiving.

“This,” I snarled, sneakily disintegrating the apple into a pulp in my hand below the table where the humans couldn’t see, “will be what happens to you at home.” I made a show of letting the mush slide off my hand onto my tray.

My brother guffawed, and my other siblings joined in the laughter.

“In your dreams!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I also couldn’t help but feel the intensity of watching eyes.

“Who’s the girl with the really long dark hair?” The soft, low voice of the boy asked quietly from across the room.

Reflexively, my eyes met his stare once again. He looked away quickly.

“That’s Bella. She’s insanely beautiful obviously, but if you’re thinking about trying to talk to her, forget it,” Naomi shrugged.

Once lunchtime was over, we disbanded to head off to the last half of yet another monotonous day. On my way out of the cafeteria, I purposely bumped into the trash can for Emmett’s benefit as he and Rose followed close behind. The action was a little more violent than I intended, and the plastic container bent slightly at the force.

“Oops,” I bit my lip to keep from smiling as he erupted into laughter. Upon our move to Forks, it had become something of a joke between Emmett and I for me to feign clumsiness. I didn’t participate in this joke daily, but every once in a while I’d sprinkle in an elaborate fall for his sake.

When I reached my junior level Biology class, I settled into my seat at the lab table I shared with no one. I laid the books devoid of any information relevant to me out on the table, and propped an elbow on the surface to hold my head up in my hand, awaiting the oncoming tedium.

The room filled as students returned from lunch. I paid them no attention, my eyes fixated on counting the snow-like particles of chalk dust floating in the air likely from Mr. Molina writing on the board prior to the end of lunch.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Masen! We’re so glad to have you join us. You can take the seat next to Miss Cullen,” I looked up to find the biology teacher pointing in my direction. Next to him was the new boy. Standing up, he appeared very lanky – several inches taller than our teacher – though his physique was still slightly muscular.

I pulled the books closer to my side of the table to make room for him, feeling bad that he had the misfortune of being assigned the seat next to me. He would probably feel more comfortable anywhere else. Not only because I didn’t go out of my way to interact much with my classmates, but because their long-buried survival instincts told them what their brains didn’t totally understand: we were dangerous.

I had never been more dangerous than I was in that moment. Because after the Masen kid politely thanked the teacher, he turned down the aisle, directly in front of the heated airflow that blew towards me.

His scent washed over me like the most vicious, violent wave, a wall of unrelenting water in a heavy thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean, drowning me, taking me down, down, down, further and further away from the traces of humanity I had once clung to.

In every direction of this blackest of depths, there was no escape that could lead me back to the light; I resurfaced as the monster I pretended not to be.

The sweet enticing smell of Edward Masen’s blood compelled my throat to rupture into a burning, aching fire. I had never been ablaze with such need. My mouth was pooling with venom as my prey approached. Since he spoke, he had only taken another step forward. He would not take another.

As my muscles begged for the release that would send me springing forward, stealing the first life of my existence, those sage eyes glanced at me, widening in bewilderment at the vicious expression contorting my features.

With great difficulty, I emerged from my horrible, repulsive compulsion. The look on his face was enough to spare him another moment.

His scent perfumed the air around me; I was encompassed in this irresistable cloud of bloodlust, eager to leap up and put an end to this unexpected torture.

In all my years of immortality, I had never experienced a desire this overwhelming. I had never been so vulnerable to committing this kind of atrocity. My record was clean. With guidance, I had been able to restrain myself from the temptation of human blood. Of course, instinct is not easily fought. Sometimes the abstinence was painful. But never like this.

A dozen scenarios on how to kill this poor human boy crossed my mind, and I combatted every single one with the last miserable shred of self control I had left. I had never exerted so much effort. The toil was something hazily reminiscent of human exhaustion, weighing heavily onto me.

I had no choice but to end his life. There was no other way.

He awkwardly settled into the seat next to me, aware of some unknown hostility, but unaware of the ferocity raging within, unaware of the way his blood sang to me, inviting me in, inviting me to betray all my years of discipline, effort, and tolerance. Inviting me to betray my family.

Despite the absolute consumption, by some miracle, I resisted.

I desperately clung to the thought of my family. Rosalie. Esme. Carlisle. Alice. Emmett. Jasper.

They loved me. They would forgive me for this detestable, inexorable act. They would understand. They wouldn’t harbor any judgment.

But how could I let them down in this way? Everything about who we are, everything about what unites us and bonds us is intricately traced back to the compassion that rules over our lives. It’s what makes us different from others of our kind. It’s what allows us to retain some remnants of the humanity we’ve lost. So just as I’ve done before, I would withstand human blood now. No matter the agony that accompanies the resistance.

I took one last deep breath. The scent washed down my throat, burning me alive from the inside out.

I wouldn’t dare to breath for the next torturous hour. It was uncomfortable to forgo the sensation, but the consequences that would follow if I did breathe had far worse implications.

Could I last that long? What was I trying to prove? Was the possibility of a lapse in the best of my judgment worth not succumbing to the honest truth – that I had more weakness in the face of human blood than I thought?

Perhaps Emmett might make fun of me. Perhaps Jasper might secretly appreciate someone else struggling more than he did. But Carlisle and Esme wouldn’t see any weakness in leaving. They’d be proud of me for making this decision. They’d understand.

The last of the students were arriving from lunchtime. Now was the greatest opportunity to escape without drawing too much attention. In my peripheral, I saw the boy open his mouth to begin to speak to me.

If I didn’t leave now, I never would. My resolve was slipping away with every thud of the boy’s heart.

I got up and walked to the front of the classroom a little too fast.

“Mr. Molina?” I asked, my voice tight. The biology teacher looked up from a lesson plan he was reviewing, his eyes startled as he registered my face. I heard his heartbeat pick up from the surprise.

“I’m feeling a little... unwell. May I be excused?” I utilized the last of my breath, hoping the subtle begging in my voice didn’t prompt more questions.

Mr. Molina recollected himself, his eyebrows pulling together in slight concern along with confusion. The Cullens were never sick.

“Of course, Miss Cullen. Do you need a nurse’s pass-” He began before I cut him off, resentfully taking another tormenting breath. The scent sent my mind reeling. I fought for coherency in my thoughts.

I didn’t need to work to put on a show; I probably looked pale and sick enough.

“No thank you,” I spoke quickly, desperate for the relief of fresh, untainted air.

“Alright, then. I hope you feel better-” I was out of the room before he could finish the rest of the statement. The bell for class rang. The hallways were empty, so I risked the charade and began to move at an inhuman speed around the corner. Only when I had exited the building did I allow myself to breathe again. I gasped, nearly choking on the mouthfuls of clean air when I reached the car. My head was still spinning as I climbed into the drivers’ seat. I gave little thought to worrying if my quick movements in the classroom would reveal too much. I hoped that the students were too focused on finishing up their leftover conversations from lunch to notice.

With a jolt, I realized I was not alone in the car. In the passenger seat sat my tiny sister.

“Bella?” She asked, her pitch-black eyes unable to convey the concern that was etched on the rest of her pixie-like features.

“Alice,” I breathed. I had been so distracted with my own thoughts I hadn’t even paid any attention to the proximity of the familiar vanilla and jasmine fragrance of her skin. What was wrong with me today?

“Are you alright? I saw…”

I winced, knowing what she must have seen.

“I’m fine. I just… I-... I don’t know what happened…” The words flew rapidly out of my mouth.

“Do you need help? Should I grab the boys? Or would you like to leave-”

“No! No. It’s really not...a big deal. I’m just going to… I promise I’m fine. I won’t go back there-” I gulped, the venom filling my mouth as I even considered returning to the class where he sat. Alice’s eyes widened, so I stopped the thought in its tracks. “Rosalie has a free period right now. I think I’ll go find her. I’ll see you when school is over.”

I reached for the door, turning away from her, shame filling me, making me unwilling to face her any longer. Her slender hand grabbed my other wrist, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine, Alice!” I pulled my hand away too defensively. Regret replaced the shame for a moment. “Sorry.”

I left her alone in the car, feeling guilty.

I knew it was risky to utilize my sense of smell, but following the sweet, warm aroma of orange blossom, marshmallow, and roses – and avoiding anywhere remotely near the science wing – I found my other sister alone in an empty classroom. Now that it had been distinguished from the rest, I could still smell the boy, but with more distance between us, I fought the temptation off.

“You’re not in class?” She asked as she typed into a computer, her back turned to me. It looked as though she was searching for some car parts. Even though I helped her in the garage sometimes, after all these years I was still no better at identifying anything related to automobiles.

“Rose...” I began, before stopping short, unsure of what to say.

She turned around in an indiscernible millisecond, her breathtaking face worried at the tone of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

She reached for me consolingly. Though I didn’t need the rest – I could stand still for hours on end and never feel tired – I sat on the floor beside her chair, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes fixated on the dust deep in the roots of the rough, outdated carpet.

Her silky hands smoothly brushed through my hair, patiently waiting for me to build up the courage to speak. It felt nice.

After a few seconds, she spoke up. “Bella, you’re worrying me.”

I sighed.

“I’ve never...struggled this way before,” I admitted, exasperated with myself.

I could see that she was nodding out of the corner of my eye, immediately understanding. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bella.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know her perfect lips were set into a deep frown. She wasn’t lying to me, but I knew to her, this existence was everything to be ashamed about.

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find myself...repulsed with...well, what we are. That’s no secret to anyone.” Her musical laughter had a dark edge to it. “But I’ve spent enough time for all of us hating myself for the impulses we have and the tragedy of our existence. You needn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s alright to...” She trailed off, selecting different words. “We’ve chosen an abnormal path in this non-life of ours. The terrible consequences of what we are are normal” – her hands froze in my hair briefly saying the word – “so try to let go of the shame I know you’re feeling, though I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “you know we won’t allow you to harm anyone.”

I bit down on my lower lip. I was glad I came to Rosalie. She didn’t think I was being overdramatic the way Emmett might have.

Though I deeply loved my mother from my human life, there hadn’t been much maternal guidance. We had a strong bond, but I was far more of the caretaker than she was. I had been very lucky in this immortal life. Esme treated me as her own daughter, and I became truly taken care of. Just as Esme became the most loving mother figure in all the ways that counted, Rosalie became the very best protective older sister. My life had no shortage of supportive femininity and womanhood.

I heard a springy, featherlight approach of fast footsteps.

“I told you not to follow me,” I grumbled.

Alice poked her tongue out at me as she entered the room and fluttered to my other side, joining my other sister in stroking my head. “You’ll forgive me. I didn’t want to be left out of a sister moment.”

Her words brought half a smile to my face.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted by Rosalie’s words and the soft feeling of my sisters’ hands in my hair.

Yes, it was undeniable what I was. I could never change the fact. But I could change the fate of this boy, and I could deny myself the instincts that identified me this way. I could deny myself Edward Masen.

#twilight au #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #the twilight saga #twilight saga #edward cullen #bella swan #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #jasperwhitcock #equinoxjw

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isabella-aldwyn · 4 years

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Isabella Aldwyn

Skeleton: The Hoyden Name: Isabella Rose Aldwyn Age: 24 Family Title: Viscounty Cheltenham About: See Below FC: Caitlin Stasey

O1 ━◞ ISABELLA

Being the eldest of the female Aldwyns was always a curse for Bella, specifically because of her personality. Headstrong, independent and stubborn, if you told her to go left, she would go right without a moment’s hesitation. And when she did so, she’d speak with such a sweet and charming tongue abreast mirthful giggles that you’d always sigh in defeat because you simply can’t turn down that look of sheer joy. Known among the household to be as unruly as a wild stallion yet to be broken in, many of the house staff and family members who must manage her affairs are often chasing after her, her body racing as quickly as her mind (and attention span). Upon hearing such comments, Bella wholeheartedly agrees that she proudly has the spirit of a stallion, wild-hearted, adventurous and happy to indulge in what freedom she can taste. She believes very strongly in making her own decisions and following her own path, an opposite sentiment to what she’s been taught all her life and she struggles constantly with the tension of what she selfishly wants and what’s expected of her.

Bella wears her heart on her sleeve, unashamedly expressing her highest highs and lowest lows. Neither does she shy away from confrontation. Especially when displeased or when facing conflict, she will say it as it is, no matter how hard she tries to keep her mouth shut. Her loose tongue has gotten her into deep trouble more than she’d like to admit.

While impulsive, Bella also lacks any sense of self-preservation. At her best, it means she will go above and beyond (perhaps even at her own expense) to those she loves and are loyal to. At her worst, Bella wouldn’t realize she’s in danger if she was looking at a wolf six feet away. (To be quite honest, she’d possibly try and attempt to tame it.) As such, her schemes and fun often get away from her and put her in arguably dire circumstances.

The world outside her tiny universe in the Aldwyn estate always drew bella to it like a moth to a flame. It took time and numerous failed attempts to learn how to sneak out of the house; from taking advantage of the servant exits, to bribing the footmen, to convincing her maid Nancy to accompany her. When she managed to escape from her governess, Bella would explore Cheltenham (or London depending on the season) and became acquainted with as many of the townspeople and the common folk as she could. At times, her brother, Harry, would sneak out from his studies to accompany her. Other times, she would visit her cousin, Simeon, and wrangle his arm to convince him to take her around.

O2 ━◞ FAMILY

Teresa di Santa Maria del Ponte, the fiery ninth daughter of a Marquis in one of the Papal states in Rome, had not intended to marry an English man. But when Philip Aldwyn visited Italia for business and he met the saucy girl, it is as they say -- it was history. Teresa, who hailed from a large family, only wished to instill the same warmth in her own family. Teresa was fortunate enough to survive childbirth of nine children -- two sons, Edmund and Henry (”Harry”) and then seven daughters. (See more about Bella’s siblings here.)

As Teresa hoped, the Aldwyn siblings were as close as can be. Even as a wee child, Bella liked to follow her brothers, especially Edmund and all his schoolboy friends. But it was Harry who she was closest to. Proximate in age, they grew up as best friends. Harry would let her get away with the most, defend her against Edmund and their parents, and even assist her little acts of rebellion. Of all their family members, Bella believes that Harry is the only one to truly understand her desire to make her own choices and have her own thoughts.

In the same vein, Bella dotes on her younger sisters, often pushing her sisters towards following their passions and to ignore the pending doom of being married off. Her mother and governess, all too aware of bella’s tendency to spoil and lead her sisters astray, are particularly firm in their discipline with the younger Aldwyns.

The Aldwyns had intended to debut Isabella when she turned 20, but after having her heart broken by her first love, she begged her parents to delay her entrance. This was followed by both her Father’s passing, and then Edmund’s passing only years after, which delayed her debut further. Now considered rather late for her first Season, Bella is debuting with her two younger sisters simultaneously. She is more than aware that her Mama is anxious for her eldest daughter to make the first match and set the precedent for her six (6) other daughters. In light of the recent deaths, and the taking up of the mantle by Harry, who had never prepared for the role as Viscount, a secure marriage would assure their old name continued to thrive, despite the recent tragedies.

However, Bella still struggles with Edmund’s sudden and mysterious death. Paired with the loss of her closest brother who must throw himself headfirst in being the Lord Cheltenham, Bella has been left stranded and alone in direction. What Bella is unawares of a dark shifting behind the scenes that may had led to Edmund’s death.

The Aldwyn name is one of old money and old title, passed down from generations. Despite only being a viscounty, their family is known for their wealth and fortune. Bella had never given thought to how the Aldwyns made their means. What she does not know is the unseemly business that her Father, Edmund, and cousin ran -- that the Aldwyn fortune is dirty and has been for generations, their family having multiple hands in the shadowy sides of England and beyond. From the talk of the town, she had heard rumours milling about pertaining to the secrecy behind their mass fortune and snippets of her father’s reputation -- ones that slandered him, claiming that anyone who spoke dirty of their family would be ridden of. Such rumours were always quashed as fast as they appeared. Neverthless, Bella finds it hard to believe her sweet father and her doting brother who were widely respected in the Ton would be anything but honourable.

O3 ━◞ LIKES, QUIRKS, AND TIDBITS

Growing up in Cheltenham, a region famed for its horse breeding and informal horse racing (soon to be formal in 1815 actually!), meant Bella was no stranger to horse riding. She had been riding with her Brothers since she was old enough to walk and handle a horse. Her favourite past-time is exploring the town and surrounding landscapes with Harry and her horse, Athena. Since childhood, bella always sought to be outdoors, preferring to run around on the grounds or to swim in nearby waterholes. Unfortunately, the older she became, the less she was permitted to do so.

Archery being one of the more active upper class activities that she is ‘permitted’ to engage in passionately, Bella is an excellent archer, and enjoys showing off her bowmanship at any garden or picnic event. Though she would not claim to be as polished in her pall-mall skills, she is irrationally competitive with the game. If she were to identify a reason, she would blame how often she and her siblings played in their childhood.

Having seen the way her parents looked at each other, Bella believes in marrying for love. That being said, the Season is not the most fitting of circumstances, and Bella finds herself more irritated than not after being constantly compared and sold around like cattle. The thought has crossed her mind to not marry as the biggest act of rebellion but finds herself waning in resolve at the thought of how it would affect her siblings. And she also has not put the possibility to rest that she possibly could be as fortunate as her parents and not only fall in love, but have the cards fall into perfect position.

Tidbit 1: Her birthday is February 18.

Tidbit 2: If she is to be courted, the way to her heart is dancing. Bella has every quadrille, every waltz memorized, enough so she can dance the steps in her sleep.

Tidbit 3: Though she lacks the attention span to make the most of her studies, bella does happen to have excellent visual memory, allowing her to play the lyre or the pianoforte from memory in short bouts. (Excellent party trick!) She does rather enjoy music, especially that of the lyre where she is not forced to sit.

Tidbit 4: She has a scar around her neck from an unfortunate horse-riding incident from when she was 12. Consequently, she is never without a large necklace. It is what she is most self-conscious of.

O4 ━◞ SECRETS

One of her dearest friends who she had met from town is one of the girls at her cousin’s whorehouse. There have been rumours that she frequents the place, more than any proper lady should, but not enough to have ever made trouble.

Something happened that scared her and that she’s buried deep in her memory; something that her Father covered up for her before he died. Will expand on this as roleplay goes. Dun dun dun.

#introduction #tw. death #tw. murder

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sapphicbookclub · 4 years

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Author Spotlight: Leni Hanson

Today I'm happy to spotlight Leni Hanson who is a co-author of one of our book club reads, The Last Time We Met! It’s always exciting to learn about different writing processes, especially this one when it’s a collaborative work! So read on to find out more about that!

WHAT I LEARNED FROM WRITING MY DEBUT NOVEL

A big thanks to Lara for inviting me to do a Guest Post for your book club! It's exciting to have this opportunity with you!

Some of you may have read the article in the Bella Media Channel about how Maggie Brown and I met up to write "The Last Time We Met" (TLTWM).

TLTWM is my debut novel. It is Maggie's ninth. Writing, I've found, is one of those fields where writers are always learning something. That is to say, both Maggie and I benefited from working together. Two heads being better than one to bounce ideas off of and get wildly creative.

Here are some of the insights I gained during the 18 month journey writing this book:

Writing is no place for your ego. Your ego is going to get trod on by agents, publishers, editors, beta readers and reviewers. "You get thick skin," Maggie told me early on. Yeah, no kidding. Mine's now like a rhinoceros. But no matter if this is your first book, or your fiftieth, suck it up and get the best editor you can. Even after I thought Maggie and I had edited the book to death, I was both surprised and fascinated with all of the suggestions from our editor, Cath Walker, that made the book even better.

Grammar - Writing a book to be published (versus one for your drawer) is when you re-learn all the stuff you forgot from grammar class. Remember misplaced modifiers and dangling participles? My favorite writing instructor wrote me this "... if you want--and I do mean sincerely want--to be a professional author, then you can race ahead of the pack of 'Just-Writers' by nailing down grammar, punctuation, and all that technical stuff. If nothing else, it will help you manipulate tension in your stories. The proper use of grammar and punctuation feeds directly into cadence and voice." Unfortunately, with some things in grammar, there are still different schools of thought on some aspects. Maggie and I had some of our liveliest discussions over the use of commas.

Names that start with the same letter - after I named Merritt, I thought it would be cute if everyone's name in Merritt's family also started with an "M." "No, you can't do that," Maggie exclaimed. "You'll confuse the readers." So, no other "M's in Merritt's family! I read a book recently where a group of cousins did have the same first letter in their name and I actually did get confused. LOL

Word choice is important. In our case, we had characters from the US and Australia in present day and eleven years earlier, and they needed to have dialogue that matched where they were from and the time period. This is where we both learned how our dialects are so different and how we were going to have to address it in the book. Maggie would write something for one of the American characters and I would comment back, "no, we don't say that in the US" or "no one says that any more. This is what we would say..." Then, I would write the dialogue for one of the Aussie characters, and she'd change it to another phrase that was common there. With a global reader audience in mind, we used words and colloquialisms that could be understood in context without annoying the readers to keep a dictionary nearby when reading.

Clutch or repeat words - Every writer has them. These are favorite words used frequently in the book. "Just get it on paper," Maggie would tell me. That meant, we were both likely to use our favorite words often and relied on editing later to weed them out of the draft. We had to do the same thing with the curse words. Too many of the same word is boring.

"Make it worse, make it worse, make it worse" - Donald Maass, a well-known literary agent and author is known for the quotation that we kept in mind the whole time while writing this book. In fact, one of our challenges was to keep the romance the main focus and not let the Doctors Without Borders (DWB) subplot steal the limelight. The researching and writing required to make the conflict worse and worse and worse in this book was like an evil scientist drawing up the plans for his latest monster.

Rules are (sometimes) made to be broken, or as stated by author CJ Cherryh in "Writerisms and Other Sins," "follow no rule off a cliff." Those of you who have studied writing know about "the beats" in story structure. Most romance writers follow the romance formula exactly. We didn't. In this book, we skipped a beat - something our reviewers have found refreshing.

As for the sex scenes - that's a story in itself! LOL

The writers’ community is surprisingly welcoming. From an outsider’s view, you'd think that it would be dog eat dog. I've found the very opposite. From Maggie, who offered me this wonderful opportunity to write with her, to the many organizations like Golden Crown Literary Society (GCLS) and Romance Writers of America (RWA) who offer classes, conferences, mentors and videos/documents, to the very writers themselves - many of whom have become my friends - all have had a heartfelt effect on me.

#sapphic books #lgbt books #wlw books #booklr #book recs #guest post

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cassieschaosdimension · 4 years

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Here is the second installment in the redemption arc of Draco Malfoy.

The First Class (with the Gryffindors; I'm basing this off of the books and it's a fic so...)

He woke up after the feast in the Slytherin common room. Draco grins to himself running his hair through his unruly hair then he turns his head and it falls.

Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini were sleeping around the room. How is he going to avoid them as he goes to breakfast?

It was especially hard not to wake up them meanly, but Draco wanted a clean slate where he could be himself without feeling smothered. He tried to be as quiet as possible. He doesn't want Nott and Zabini to ask questions. He may have had to grow up with them, but he doesn't have to be nice to them. Father might be furious at him, but mother said he should just be himself and it would all be fine.

Putting on his uniform and robe, Draco thinks how proud his father will be to see he's in Slytherin just like his parents were. He's always gravitated towards mother; she wasn't as harsh as father and made sure he was taught to be himself. At least she was the one who wanted him to be happy. Father only wanted Draco to become a mini Lucius and as much as he loved his father, he did not want to become just like him.

Tiptoeing out of the dormitory he shudders at the thought of turning as mean, heartless, and cold as his father. He never wants to be like that. He wants to bring light and happiness in the world because his father sucks it all up. Draco doesn't remember when he was allowed to laugh and smile.

Pushing open the heavy door, Draco runs into Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch House team.

"Hey Draco! Nice to have you finally here! Come on, let's come down to breakfast and stuff our faces before class." At the word class Flint rolls his eyes. Draco is shocked. He didn't realize Flint was disrespectful! The professors gave up any hope of a social life to teach them! The least they could do was respect them, but Flint didn't.

He tries to get away and go see where the people he met yesterday on the train are sitting. Glancing around until he spots them he grins. The grin slides off his face faster than a dementer closing in to perform the Kiss. They're at the Gryffindor table like he expected, but it still hurts.

Hmm, Hermione seems to be off to the side from everyone. He enjoyed going head to head with her on the train. (NOT DRAMIONE NOPE PLATONIC PEOPLE!!!!) Not many people could do that and survive. He wanted to be good friends with someone like her even if she was Mu-Muggleborn. He was going to have to get used to calling them by their proper names, not what his father always called them.

Harry and Ron looked thick as thieves already and it had barely been a day! Sitting down at the Slytherin table, Draco wishes he could have a friendship like that. He had hoped for that on the train, but Neville had squashed that flat. Poor Neville looked absolutely terrified when he heard his name!

Draco was sad as he saw the smile fly off the face of the round faced boy Draco thought would be nice when he introduced himself. Maybe the letter he wrote to his mother would have some answers.

The hooting of hundreds of owls suddenly fills the cavernous Hall. His owl, Talon, soars down to him. The giant parcel dropped in front of him seems to be filled with sweets and cakes. Among the cakes, he finds a folded letter. His mother must have placed this when she sent Talon off again. Bypassing the edible goodies the poor house elves must have been forced to.make for him, he goes right for the letter.

Dearest Draco,

I am hesitant to respond to you in case your father intercepts this, but I have placed this in your parcel instead of sending it with Talon separately.

The boy's name is Neville Longbottom yes? Your concern is welcoming, but the story is chilling.

This was before you were born in early 1980 and Snape has overheard the Divination professor utter a prophecy. Yes, Draco. The prophecy which changed our world forever. He was still very much in love with Lily Evans, who married James Potter earlier that year, and the prophecy scared him beyond comprehension.

He was scared it meant Harry and went to the Dark Lord to beg for the release of Lily Evans as he knew she would never leave Harry to die. But unfortunately, that was not so as you know and the Potters were killed leaving behind a little boy not much older than you were at the time.

Aunt Bella went to the Longbottoms that night and she tortured them for the whereabouts of the Dark Lord because she wanted to know where he went. The Longbottoms were tortured into insanity and left a one year old son, Neville, behind to be raised by his grandmother.

Draco gasps at this part. He knew aunt Bella was twisted, but not to that effect. He felt sorry for Neville and wants to apologize, but not in front of all of these people. He doesn't want to embarrass Neville. He'll read the rest of the letter later, he got his question answered. He'll have to thank his mother later for risking that information.

Draco, putting the letter into his pocket after folding it, digs into the hearty breakfast with relish. The rest of his dorm mates are down by this point. He glances at them out of the corner of his eye. Crabbe and Goyle are pigging out as per usual. Nott and Zabini are turning up their noses at the breakfast. Draco shrugs and goes back to eating.

Soon breakfast is over and he has his first class. Draco is excited because it's Potions and Snape teaches it.He walks alone having declined company. He wanted company, but not the company that was offered.

He was told by Flint to walk towards the Common Room and then turn left and he'll reach Potions eventually. Surprisingly, Flint gave him the right directions. When Draco walks in, the room glass silent. Sauntering in, Draco sits alone hoping Neville, Harry, or Ron will sit with him. The more people that aren't them that scramble in, the more dejected he feels.

By the time the boys arrive, all of the seats around Draco are filled by Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle. Draco wants to bang his head against the table in frustration. How on earth is he supposed to apologize for his aunt's behavior if he's never alone?

He tells himself to think of the happy days when he was allowed to be himself and play with the house elves. He had loads of fun with them and he learned amazing lessons from them. Draco thinks of all of the sweets and cakes he was taught in secret as soon as he turned eight. His mother allowed it because he was happy, but anytime his father was around he had to act like him.

A bang at the back of the classroom jerks Draco back to the present. Time to act he tells himself. He's going to loathe it, but until he can explain it to the others he has to act like this. He doesn't want Snape to report to his father that he's not acting like he's supposed to.

Snape's black robe flaps behind him as he makes his way to the front of the room. Draco has to keep from laughing at the sound. Every time Snape takes a step, the robe's hem smacks against the floor. Others aren't even attempting to hide their giggles.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor! I suggest if you don't want more points taken Mr. Finnegan, you will stop laughing. As such, you will receive detention tonight. You will be notified about your detention by Professor McGonagall. The same goes for the rest of you! Now, shall we commence to be introduced to the subtle art of potion making?"

The rest of the Slytherins are sniggering and jeering at the Gryffindors so Draco does it too. He feels absolutely wretched about it though. This is not who he is. Why did the Hat put him in Slytherin again?

The discussion with the Hat was interesting. The Hat told him he would do well in Gryffindor, but he asked to be in Slytherin because he didn't want to be disowned by his father. He didn't understand what his father was doing was wrong until he was eight and started to have to sneak around with the house elves.

Three years later and he worries about the house elves when he's not there. His mother can't protect them from his father's wrath all the time. Snape's voice carries out into the cavernous dungeon and Draco forces himself to listen intend of thinking of things that will make him cry. His father says crying is for the muggleborns, muggles and blood traitors like the Weasleys. Draco doesn't understand why the Weasleys are blood traitors though. The family is a pureblood family?

Oh well. Snape is now interrogating Harry about Potions ingredients and he doesn't answer. Draco knows the answers, but he has to pretend to be indifferent. Hermione has no problems with it. Her hand shoots up each time Harry says he doesn't know. She's brave he thinks to himself. Snape only knows one side of himself. He wishes he could show his true colors, but he's too afraid of his father to even think of it.

When Snape snaps at Hermione, Draco wants to defend her, but again, his father holds too much influence at Hogwarts. No one else defends her either. Is it so hard to defend your own House mate against a teacher?! Then again it is Snape and Snape is terrifying. That's the only reason Draco can think Neville isn't defending Hermione.

The rest of class is like that and Draco wants to cry for Hermione. She takes it like a pro and she must have gotten this treatment at her muggle school. He feels sick to his stomach. No human, or any creature for that matter, should be treated that way.

He wants class to be over so he can apologize to Hermione, but she runs out the door as soon as the bell trills. Draco grabs his books and stuffs them in his bag intent on following Hermione to see if she will let him apologize for what happened with the train and Snape. All he needs is for someone to give him a chance and he will be the most loyal friend they would ever ask for. All he wants is a real friend that isn't with him for his money or influence.

Walking to his next class he thinks about the apology he's going to make to each of them if he ever gets the chance.

Three days later and I'm finally done with the second installment! Enjoy! Please be honest in your opinions, I don't mind!

#harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfory fanfic #hogwarts #harry potter #short fanfic #one shot #fanfic collection

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lustandlordsrp · 4 years

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The Hoyden | Isabella

Twenty-Four | The Honble. Isabella Aldwyn Viscounty Cheltenham

Formally or Informally Announced: Miss Aldwyn

Addressed on Formal or Informal Social Correspondence: The Honble. Isabella Aldwyn

Formal Correspondence Salutation: "Madam,”

Informal Correspondence Salutation: “Dear Miss Aldwyn,”

Addressed in Speech: Miss Aldwyn

Referred to in Speech: Miss Aldwyn

Social Correspondence Signature: Isabella Aldwyn

Biography

O1 ━◞ ISABELLA

O2 ━◞ FAMILY

Teresa di Santa Maria del Ponte, the fiery ninth daughter of a Marquis in one of the Papal states in Rome, had not intended to marry an English man. But when Philip Aldwyn visited Italia for business and he met the saucy girl, it is as they say – it was history. Teresa, who hailed from a large family, only wished to instill the same warmth in her own family. Teresa was fortunate enough to survive childbirth of nine children – two sons, Edmund and Henry (”Harry”) and then seven daughters. (See more about Bella’s siblings here.)

The Aldwyn name is one of old money and old title, passed down from generations. Despite only being a viscounty, their family is known for their wealth and fortune. Bella had never given thought to how the Aldwyns made their means. What she does not know is the unseemly business that her Father, Edmund, and cousin ran – that the Aldwyn fortune is dirty and has been for generations, their family having multiple hands in the shadowy sides of England and beyond. From the talk of the town, she had heard rumours milling about pertaining to the secrecy behind their mass fortune and snippets of her father’s reputation – ones that slandered him, claiming that anyone who spoke dirty of their family would be ridden of. Such rumours were always quashed as fast as they appeared. Neverthless, Bella finds it hard to believe her sweet father and her doting brother who were widely respected in the Ton would be anything but honourable.

O3 ━◞ LIKES, QUIRKS, AND TIDBITS

Tidbit 1: Her birthday is February 18.

Tidbit 2: If she is to be courted, the way to her heart is dancing. Bella has every quadrille, every waltz memorized, enough so she can dance the steps in her sleep.

Tidbit 4: She has a scar around her neck from an unfortunate horse-riding incident from when she was 12. Consequently, she is never without a large necklace. It is what she is most self-conscious of.

O4 ━◞ SECRETS

Something happened that scared her and that she’s buried deep in her memory; something that her Father covered up for her before he died. Will expand on this as roleplay goes. Dun dun dun.

#ll.bio #ll.taken #ll.thehoyden

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lunavadash-creates · 4 years

Text

Empyrean

A/N It was a sudden idea, but I fell in love with the concept. Pairing: Ezio Auditore/OC Words: 6221 Warning: mention of death

Prologue

It was a beautiful day in Florence with a cloudless sky and warm sun rays shining on the wide streets full of people. Giant flower carts standing in strategic places were trying to overcome the smell of the Arno river. Everything in this city was beautiful and fancy like it was shouting for the whole world to hear that it’s wealthy and prosperous. She had no idea that the city had changed so much during her absence, and it was so much more amazing than she remembered it. It seemed to be even bigger, full of wonders out of this world. She didn’t remember seeing buildings as big and as beautiful as the ones now. Florence itself was like a true wonderland, not an average city she grown up in. Surprisingly she thought that it was good to be home. She came back only a week ago, after the death of her dearest aunt, who was raising her instead of her parents. Flora knew the exact reason why they sent her away, but now, forced to live again in Florence, she was trying to act normal, trying to pretend to be normal. It was hard, considering the fact, that among all those people walking around the main square she could see ephemeral almost transparent figures flowing in the air.

Spirits, lost souls, ghosts of the dead bounded to this world by their unfinished businesses, anger, sadness, love, curses, desires and othe unknown reasons. And she was able to see all of them, suffering and longing for the lost life. She took a deep breath and looked down, trying to focus on a book, she was reading but the urge to listen and watch people around was too big for her to resist. She rose her gaze again to devour the view. She missed people, being surrounded by a loud, colourful crowd of warm, material bodies. There weren’t too many people in the countryside she lived so she used to spend a lot of time with her aunt and ghosts, even when they travelled it was only to helped trapped souls of the damned. It was a good life, noble but lonely. She felt surprisingly good seeing all those people of Florence, even if she wasn’t part of any group. But who knows, maybe she will be able to make some living friends? Unfortunately, among all those people she had seen at least three ghosts and she didn’t want to drag their attention, not yet anyway, she was supposed to act normal, and talking with ghosts didn’t belong to that category. Soon she noticed two girls sitting close to her, the wore beautiful red dresses, and their hair was braided into complicated plaits. For sure they were rich aristocrats, it was visible in their gestures, way of talking, and the clothes they wore. But their voices were nice to listen, so she focused on them. They were discussing men and all their assets; who is the most handsome, rich, influential. And among different names, there was one that particularly took her attention. She had no idea who was Cesare Borgia, but that name was truly interesting. As far as she heard he was rich and important, a man holding great power, perfect party for aristocratic ladies, right? And he was unmarried. Flora smiled to herself, trying to imagine a man from their description, she had no idea if he was young or old, but he had to be very handsome, otherwise, those women wouldn’t be talking about him with that amount of excitement.

“Oh my God, Ezio is back?” one of them suddenly asked nervously, changing the topic of their conversation and reaching for her perfect hair, trying to make it even better. The second one was no less amazed by this whole Ezio, so Flora decided to see that object of their new fascination. She followed their gazes and saw a handsome man in amazing, white robes, who was walking down the street with a smile on his face and confidence emanating from him like he was the most important person in this city. But what caught her attention was not him nor a woman he was talking to. These two were surrounded by death, ghosts were following them closely, looking at them with pure desperation. Both ghosts were shimmering with dimmed light, but one of them had a glimpse of redness in his form. For a short second her gaze crossed with one of the ghosts and on that moment, she knew she was screwed. She looked away quickly, but it was already too late, as soon both of them stopped following the pair and looked at her with confusion and hope.

“You can see us, right?” she heard a voice, nervous, shaking and seemingly distant.

She ignored it, focusing on her book. Rarely this technique had worked, but it was always worth a try. She gasped loudly when a pale face emerged from pages of her lecture. The white, shimmering figure sat on a bench, crossing his arms in front of him, and looking at her with a piercing gaze. It was a ghost of a young man, confident, handsome, hopeful. He frowned when girl ignored him, pretending not to see him.

“I’m sure she can see us” she heard the voice of the second ghost, who was approaching her slowly and soon stand right next to her, bending a little to reach her ear.

“Don’t be afraid, dear. Nod if you can see us, we will not hurt you” he promised softly. She sighed deeply, and again she put her book down on her laps, slowly stroking the hardcover of it, like a treasure, thinking about what to do. She wanted to ignore them, pretend to be normal, but she couldn’t. They were trapped, probably unaware of their state, and she wanted to help them. She was too kind-hearted to ignore such suffering, so in the end, ghosts could see a slight nod of her head.

Suddenly she took her book and turned on her heel to walk away, fortunately, both ghosts followed her closely, she could feel that cold, piercing, intense sensation that was sending shivers down her spine. Years ago, she hoped that one day she will get used to that feeling but that never happened. Even now she felt tense and cold when ghosts were close to her. They were emanating with coolness, making her skin tingle and all those tiny hair rises.

She was walking fast through Florence, looking for a perfect spot to talk with ghosts, she didn’t want to attract attention, people weren’t too lenient when it comes to “talking with oneself”, that was causing too many problems which she couldn’t afford to make one right now.

It had taken some time but, in the end, she finally found a place, peaceful and quiet, unfortunately, near the cemetery. That shouldn’t be suspicious even if someone would catch her talking to the grave, in the end, people have dealt with mourning in different ways. She sat on a little, stone bench near the entrance before she looked at ghosts, ready to hear their wishes.

“Everyone ignores us! Acting like we’re not even here! Why are they doing this?” the younger man was a bit irritated; he couldn’t understand what was going on. The second ghost frown, nodding his head in agreement. They both stood before her, visibly demanding an explanation, answer that would help them understand what had been happening to them all this time.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she started slowly, calmly. She should tell them the truth, but gently, not to scare or upset them. But was there any gentle way to tell them that?

“I’m very sorry to be the one telling you this but… people around cannot see you because you are… dead.”

It was far too easy for ghosts to turn into evil spirits and she was still seeing that glimpse of redness in the older man. She had to be careful with that one, but at the same time truth had to be spoken first. She was w bit nervous about their reaction, she had seen plenty of ghost’s outburst, it was very dangerous. At the same time, it was very common for ghosts to not be aware of their death and those two were no exception. They were equally confused by her words, probably took it as a joke before sudden realization hit them like a wrecking ball. In the end – that explained everything.

“Uberto. That cursed traitor!” the older man shouted, making woman shiver a little by this sudden outburst. The man swung his hand out of anger at the fence of the cemetery, but his hand went straight through it, proving that he was no more but a spirit.

“Calm down, calm down!” she asked, standing for a moment and looking him straight in the eyes. “whatever happened it’s too late. Please, calm down, you don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?” she hoped there was no panic in her voice, but she was the nearest living being and didn’t want to end up wounded or dead. Angry ghosts were dangerous!

Fortunately, that worked, for now, and the ghost took a deep breath, or at least he looked like doing so. It was a cruel fate to become a ghost trapped in a merciless world, sentenced for almost eternal banishment, but since now she was here, they both had a chance to find their salvation and peace.

“My name is Flora and I can help you go to the other side. You cannot stay here so we must find what is binding you to this world. What are your names?”

“Where are our manners?! Mi dispiace, Bella. I’m Federico Auditore da Firenze”

“And I’m his father, Giovanni Auditore da Firenze. I’m very sorry for my outburst”

Both of them bowed elegantly like true noblemen before deciding to sit next to her on that little stone bench, making her shiver a little bit more. She hated when ghosts decided to stay too close, but she couldn’t do anything about that. Ghosts were thinking and seeing the world differently from the living ones and were completely unaware of that fact. Dealing with them was more like trying to solve a very fragile yet dangerous mystery, one mistake and everything would be destroyed.

“That’s fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she started politely, as she was taught. She had to restrain her emotions, keep calm. “So now focus, please. Usually, there are a few things that can keep people from moving further. Lack of proper burial, unfinished businesses and objects or people holding important memories. We are near the cemetery, so I suggest looking for your graves. Or… maybe you know what can keep you here?”

“You don’t seem to be surprised by us. Is it… an ordinary situation for you?” Federico asked nicely, couldn’t help his curiosity. In the end, she was a woman, she was supposed to look pretty and take care of the house and her future husband, not roam the city and talking with ghosts. Yet frown, looking closely at her form, without a doubt he would be interested in her if they met in different circumstances. Surprisingly, for now, he was simply lost, not sure what to do. Yes, after his father outburst he remembered the fear, voice and sudden sharp pain that ended so quick…

“You are not the first ghosts I’m seeing nor the first one I’m going to help. So please, focus. I don’t want to be rude, but you have to cross over as far as possible, being here is dangerous both for you and people in the city” she tried to explain the situation for them.

“I don’t know, bella, what might keep me here. I don’t know what happened to our bodies after…” Federico sent her a wanly smile, before standing up. Giovanni looked at her, lost deep in his thoughts. He followed her on the cemetery but didn’t speak until she stopped near the little white tomb, probably one of a little kid.

“I don’t remember. I mean I remember things but not everyone. I feel like my memories are shattered into pieces and I cannot focus on them. How can I know what keeps me here?” that was a valid point that made her stop again, this time near some very old, forgotten grave.

“I am not a specialist Giovanni and my theory probably have a lot of holes but ghosts I met usually had parts of their memories back after we found some kind of a trigger. For example, after seeing a grave they remembered how they died or after seeing a family member they remembered the feeling towards them, secrets they shared. What do you know about yourself right now?”

“My name, my wife, Maria, my three children Federico, Ezio and Claudia. I was an assassin, lived by the creed but I don’t remember anything else.”

She nodded, sending him a comforting smile. Assassin? Creed? She had no clue what he was talking about, but ghosts couldn’t lie so she could only accept that that information.

“Don’t worry Giovanni, you will have your memory back”

There were no people in the cemetery, so she felt quite comfortable while talking with a ghost, wandering around the cemetery. As much as she liked being surrounded by people, she never actually fit among them. It was so difficult to keep her ability hidden from others and while being among ghosts, she preferred to be alone. Soon she got distracted and, lost in thoughts, she wandered around, looking at all those names, craved in murmur and granite. So many dead people, she wondered how many of them were waiting for a judgment day or different medium, ready to help. Fate was really cruel, and the worst part was that there was nothing to do to avoid it. Giovanni was following her, looking around, he seemed to be calmer right now. red shimmer almost completely disappeared.

She stopped, when she heard Federico shouting at them, claiming, he had found the grave they were looking for. It was a dirty and quite old tomb with dusty letters forming into names Giovani Auditore, Federico Auditore, Petruccio Auditore – three men… no, not men. Two men and a child. She frowned, looking at the inscription and soon she turned to look at the ghosts, standing still next to her. There were only two of them, was it possible that only the child went to the other side? She really hoped so because spirits of children were the worst and she didn’t want to deal with it. She was going to ask Giovanni since he told her that he had 3 children, was it possible that he had forgotten one of them?

“Traitors are not worth remembering”

She turned suddenly only to face an old man, local undertaker probably. He was supporting himself on a shovel, partly dipped in the ground. His look was glued to the names on the grave. The man was old, wrinkled, but his eyes were still bright and penetrating. He watched her appraisingly, but there was madness, anger hidden deep in his soul, that was now showing in his eyes. Flora ignored every alarming bell, that rang in her body only to asked him.

“Do you know who they were?”

“Auditores? Of course, everyone knows them! Those three were hanged twenty years ago for treason, their bodies have never been found. It’s not even a true grave, more like memorial made by Giovanni’s boy. The only one who survived, but he very rarely visits Florence nowadays”

“Treason? Oh, god, that’s terrible!” she said honestly. That would explain a lot since sudden death was the main reason for people to have unfinished businesses and traitors were usually objects of vengeance.

“Don’t regret the dead, girl. And go home, a lone woman shouldn’t visit the graveyard on her own. Run.” he said darkly and quickly tear out the shovel from the ground, making Flora jump away. His dark laughter was hunting, so she turned around, determined to run away as far as possible, but both ghosts blocked her path.

“We aren’t traitors! That was guile! Templar’s scum wanted us dead because we are the only ones who could stop them from fulfilling the prophecy!” Giovanni was again angry, and his redness became more visible, he was furious, ready to break something or someone.

“Father, calm down, you are scaring her!” Federico stood in front of him, trying to put some sense into him. Again, the man calmed down, ashamed of his behaviour.

“Signore, signore! Please wait, can you tell me more about those Auditores?” she shouted, running after that scary undertaker. She was almost terrified of him, but no living person could match an evil spirit. She would rather deal with him than with Giovanni.

“You poor, stupid girl. There is nothing more. Their home is standing empty, the family moved out of Florence and my patience is running low. And you don’t want to wake up the dead with your reckless screaming and inquisitiveness, do you?” now this man became even scarier and dangerous. His voice was more like a roar, deep and piercing. That man was far from being normal and his unfounded anger was terrifying. This time she had no intention to push his patience more and just run away, as he told her. Why she had always met crazy people? Dead or alive – it didn’t matter, she just had no luck with people in general and what was more, she felt that that man will haunt her in nightmares.

“You are not buried here!” she said, when she finally stopped running away, her breath was sharp and quick, voice hoarse. She needed a few moments to calm down and gather her thoughts. They were not buried properly, but somehow, she felt that it wasn’t the source of their problems, after twenty years there wouldn’t be much left of their bodies anyway. There were so much more hidden in their past, she was sure of it after seeing the second outburst of Giovanni. Somehow, she felt that ghosts in front of her had never had normal lives.

“Templar’s scum, prophecy, assassins. I have no idea what those are, but it seems that they are the cause of your strong feelings. What about you Federico?”

The younger man looked at her confused, not sure about this. Those words were awakening some strange feelings, faded memories inside him but he didn’t feel like it was actually a cause of his confinement. There was something more, someone. He could see that blurred outline of a woman in a long dress, but he couldn’t remember her name of features. He answered by shaking his head gently, he didn’t know.

“Signorina, what about our home? We lived here before the accident, maybe that place will help us?”

“Good idea, Giovanni,” she said, allowing the ghost to take a lead. She had no idea where their house could be, but it looked like older Auditore remembered the place. She wondered if there were still people living there. If Ezio, his son, was out of Florence, then the house could be sold to support the family. Or Giovanni’s wife could still live there. She could expect a lot of things about that place but be heavily guarded was not one of them. Near the entrance of the house, there were two men with long, sharp swords, few more were positioned nearby. Those mercenaries look tough and merciless, even in her dreams she couldn’t possibly stand a chance again even one of them. She looked at ghosts with wide eyes and turned on her hill, deciding to stay away from that house, every part of her body was screaming that going in there was dangerous.

“It wasn’t guarded when we lived there…” Federico seemed to be worried while looking at the building, he grew up in. This place was holding every memory he would need to become free, but could he expose that girl to a danger?

“Well, that makes it complicated and I would rather avoid those people and their swords. I should go with you because there may be a need for me to take something for you, if any of you is bounded to an object, I must destroy it. So, the only option is probably to wait until the evening and came back when it’ll be dark.”

“We will find a place for you to slip through” Giovanni offered, sending the woman a smile. He was calmer now, more peaceful but Flora could see that redness in his form was no less visible, quite on contrary. That red glimpse was even more noticeable, Giovanni didn’t have much time left. But those guards… She would lie by telling she wasn’t afraid. She was terrified, put between the devil and the deep blue sea. She couldn’t fight guards nor leave a ghost behind since they could start haunting her, so there was no “good” option for her. The only thing she actually could do, was trying to break into that house, go in stealth and run away as quickly as possible, hiding in the darkness. She had no idea if it’d work, but she had to try, Giovanni’s redness was a sign of impending disaster.

Evening came far too soon for her. It was dark outside but now she had needed equipment that included dark cape with a hood, some salt, flints and an iron chain for protection. She also had a dagger, but it was against the living being, in case she had to protect herself in combat, what she would rather avoid.

Hidden behind some bushes, she was waiting for Federico and Giovanni to return to her with information on how was she supposed to slip into that house. She had to do it quietly and fast, guard that was standing near the front doors looked rather dangerous with his shining sword and a torch in his hand, to scatter the darkness around. He was quite tall and very buffy, it was obvious that his muscles carried a great strength, Flora was no match for a person like them. He could break her in two without even putting effort.

“There is a window on the first floor that’s not locked. If you manage to lure guard away you will be able to slip in” Federico appeared so suddenly behind her, that she jumped and shot him an angry look. She wanted to tell him again not to appear so suddenly; in this one day he did it thrice already, but it was no use right now. She had to be quiet now.

Flora moved from her place, going in the right direction until Federico gestured her to stop and pointed at the window that should be unlocked. She bit her lip, even scarier guard was standing there, he looked tired and annoyed, while leaning against the wall with half-closed eyes. Flora decided to improvise a little and took a round rock in her hand just to throw it in the direction of a guard. He flinched at the sound it made and looked around, searching any intruders but in the end, he didn’t move from his post. The woman looked around and found a little wooden stall, standing next to the opposite building. Probably someone was using that for selling vegetables or some trinkets. She picked up another stone and aimed at this stall. She wasn’t sure how big or durable it was, but she certainly didn’t expect that the stone will hit one of the supporting stakes, causing the construction to collapse. Giovanni looked at her disapprovingly, he never supported destroying other people properties and was about to give her a lecture on proper behaving but when the alarmed guard went to investigate, she rushed to the window. She struggled a little to open it, the mechanism got a bit rusty, but in the end, she managed to slip in and close the window again.

“You should not destroy that stand, Flora! What if it was the only source of money for a family or…”

“I didn’t do it or purpose! I just wanted to lure that guard away!” she said, trying to defend herself and stayed calm, but Giovanni only shook his head crossing arms on his chest. It was clear that he had a lot of misbehaving children. She rolled her eyes and took out one candle to light her way around. She went on the first floor, where the family used to live and but stopped midstep, looking around. This place was beautiful, even if it was dark inside. Beautiful paintings were decorating walls and the furniture looked so expensive. After taking a closer look she could recognise willow wood and amazing decorations, inlays of ivory and gold. No wonder that this place was guarded! She was probably in the main room because there was a table made of dark wood with caryatids supporting its weight; around were standing sgabellos, excellently made chairs with patterns so rich that it reminded her of endless circles of water crashing with each other. There were also big mirrors with golden frames, she saw in one her own reflection and her lips twitched at the sight. She was standing in the dusty, dark and abandon room, wearing a black cape, with a candle in one hand surrounded by ghosts. She chuckled darkly, how ironic! She was aristocrat, she should be sleeping in her room, waiting for a new day to come and shine bright like a diamond, attract men, make them lose their minds for her and only her, how life could be so strange, to put that curse on her and change everything?

“Where do you want to look for? Federico? Giovanni?”

“I want to go to my room,” said Federico, showing her staircase again and leading her to his room. She wasn’t surprised to see the big, richly decorated room of a young aristocrat. She looked around with visible curiosity, most of the furniture were hidden under white cloaks to prevent dust from gathering.

“You never could keep this place tidy” she heard Giovanni sigh and laughed a little, seeing as Federico rolled his eyes theatrically. But he started looking around and Flora soon joined him, putting a candle on a holder. She opened one of the drawers, looking at different papers. She even found a journal and frowned, she wanted to read it, curious about what secrets could be hidden in it. She had no intention of using it against anyone, it was just undying inquisitiveness. She opened it and soon Federico was next to her.

“I was looking for it! Yes!” he said enthusiastically, trying to grab the book. His hand went straight through it, causing him to groan. Flora turned pages for him to see the most recent notes and soon it was clear what probably kept him here. A woman.

“Gabrielle… I remember now! I wanted to court her, I… I bought a necklace for her as a gift. I was supposed to give it to her, we were…we wanted to meet on that day but they…” Federico looked frantically around like he was about to panic. Giovanni looked at his son before he reached for his arm and shook him by it. The sudden realisation must have hit him now, he looked so fragile and sad, desperation was emanating from his cold form. Flora couldn’t do much to help him, whoever was, she probably moved on if she was alive.

“Flora can find that necklace, right?”

“It’s probably somewhere here,” she assured him, starting look for it. She opened every drawer, chest and wardrobe, finding some more papers, coins, trinkets, and some strange plans and maps, even weapons! In the end, she found a little box with a gold necklace that was sitting hidden under one of his many pillows on the bed. She opened a box to make sure that it’s the piece of jewellery she was looking for and showed it to Federico, who again tried to grab it but yet again he failed. The necklace was made of milky pearls and would suit perfectly every lady, even Flora was impressed with it, she rarely had seen so nice jewellery. That Gabrielle would be one of the luckiest women in Florence if Federico was still alive. A pity that fate was so cruel.

“I need to see Gabrielle, I want her to have it, to remember me, can you do it, Flora? I beg you I have to make sure…” he said quietly with shaking voice, looking at her like a broken man. Flora nodded in response, giving him a warm smile.

“If this will help you find your peace, then of course! I know it must be hard for you but… I’m so sorry Federico,” she said quietly, hiding the box in her bag.

“Now, Giovanni, where should we look for your cause? Bedroom? Other room?”

“No. I remember, my dear, who I am. Or I should probably say who I was. I need you to open a secret room in my office, something tells me that there is something important.” He said, pointing her direction. She didn’t quite understand why he needed a secret room but who was she to judge? She just went back on the lowest floor trying to be noiseless, entered Giovanni’s office and stood in front of a plain wall with painting on it, seeing nothing unusual about this place. Just a simple room with bookstand and a big desk.

“This, Flora. You have to push and turn this painting, then the entrance will open”

“Will it be loud? I don’t want the guard to hear it”

“No, it couldn’t be loud, that would drag unwanted attention”

After turning the painting, the wall moved itself, opening another room in front of them. It was a little space with a golden chest in front of the entrance. At the top of it was a strange symbol she couldn’t recognise, but it probably had a meaning, maybe even an important one? Flora opened that chest, but it was completely empty. She frowned, turning to face bookshelves near the wall. She loved literature, so that place took her interest immediately. Her eyes caught the attention of the same strange symbol as in the chest on several books. She took one of them to take a better look.

“Take it” she heard a silent whisper of Federico. She obeyed, putting it in her bag and took another that was pointed to her by him. She would never miss the opportunity to gain some knowledge. She smiled at the ghost and turned around to face Giovanni. And that was a mistake. His appearance was changing, he was turning red, anger was emanating from his form, the temperature in the room dropped drastically and soon everything began to shake a little.

“He took it. Ezio took everything, documents that were supposed to compromise De’ Pazzi Family. Yet they had won that battle and now I am dead! Federico is dead, my little Petruccio is dead, Ezio and Claudia are no longer here and my wife, my love she’s…” he didn’t finish, letting himself drown in anger and sadness that filled him like a poison.

Suddenly every lying object rose from its place, picked up by cold, strong wind that surrounded Giovanni’s ghost. Objects started to fly around the room, making Flora step back to the office again. The situation there was no better, everything was flying, crashing with each other, hitting walls, shelves, mirrors. A paperweight hit the window so hard that the glass had broken into hundreds of tiny shards, that were soon lifted but the same force that caused everything else to move.

“Giovanni, calm down, calm the fuck down!” she screamed. Trying to hide somewhere from that flying objects, but it was no use. She could only try to protect her face with hands, while the ghost was slowly falling into despair. Federico was terrified and was just looking at his father, screaming to him to calm down. Outside the guards were alarmed by the sounds of crashing objects and braking glass, when another window turned into pieces. But one who got closer was almost immediately hit with a big, heavy pyxis, straight in the head, causing him to fall in the ground.

“Giovanni, if you don’t calm down you will turn into the evil spirit! You will never see your family ever again!” she screamed at the man, trying to make him pay attention to her words. “This is your last chance, soon it will be too late! Don’t do it to your family!” she screamed from the top of her lungs, knowing that if she survives this, her voice would turn hoarse later, but it didn’t matter. She tried to get close to Giovanni, but she couldn’t avoid every flying object and soon something hit her back, making her fall on the ground. A piece of glass cut one of her hands.

“Giovanni!”

Ghost looked at her terrified, still fulfilled with sorrow and anger, but seeing blood on her hand, that was now marking the carpet made him lose it all. Everything dropped on the floor as he fell to his knees, hiding face in hands, weeping desperately. Flora rose from the floor and came closer, squatting in front of him.

“Giovanni, it’s fine, I promise! Let’s go, guards are coming!” she said, before running from the office. She jumped over the unconscious guard and run towards the entrance that was now open only to crash with another man. His grip tightened on her wrist painfully.

“You little thief!” her started, but the woman still with adrenaline in her veins, took her dagger and hit him in the head with its hilt. It was strong enough to make man loosen his grip but not enough to knock him out, so she just decided to run, run for her life, like she was being hunted down by the devil himself.

Fortunately for her, it was dark, so she could soon hide from the man, as he was not in sight anymore. Probably he saw his companion and decided to take care of him, maybe he was shocked by the mess Giovanni crated. Either way, she managed to run away and hid between buildings. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid that soon she would get a heart stroke. Fortunately, adrenaline started fading away slowly from her veins, making her breath steadier. But while her body was calming down, the pain found its way in, she hissed feeling stinging in her cut hand. Blood was dripping from her fingers, but she had nothing to dress the wound with.

“I’m so sorry, Flora. You showed us so much mercy and I… I…”

“Don’t mention it, Giovanni. You’re in a very… peculiar situation, I’m aware that controlling emotions may be hard for both of you, just… you must try to keep calm. Next time there may be no going back for you. If you turn into an evil spirit, I will have to kill you and that will not give you any guarantee that your soul will be saved” she explained slowly, trying to make her point. It was too important to ignore it, especially that Giovanni was already and the verge of breaking. Ghost nodded in response, letting her show them the way to her home.

She had her room on the first floor but the whole wall was covered in some green bush that allowed her to enter and leave through the window. She jumped into her room, closed window and put the bag down on the floor. She felt so tired right now!

Giovanni looked at her worried and guilty, Federico was strangely silent. Flora ignored them both and soon hide her cloak, weapon and throw her bag under the bed. She commanded the ghosts to close their eyes when she stripped and changed into her sleeping gown. Then she cleaned her hands and with big relief, she found out that her wound was superficial. Unfortunately, it was this place that hurt, but she could endure it. She was lucky that as an aristocrat, she could wear gloves without any suspicion!

“I am so sorry, Flora, forgive me” Giovanni’s voice was silent and lenient. He was a very composed man and he didn’t quite understand what had changed about it, where all those emotions came from and influenced him it the most brutal way, making him lost him equanimity.

“Please… just don’t think about it. I must sleep now, but we will talk tomorrow, make a new plan. Just take under your consideration that other people cannot see or hear you, so try not to make me look weird in front of them. My mother is already not too happy about my presence here and I don’t want to cross that border.”

Both ghosts agreed on her terms and let her sleep. Flora had no idea that right now a messenger was rushing to Monteriggioni to inform Ezio Auditore about an intruder, who had broken into his home and destroyed his father office.

#actsquad #ezio auditore da firenze #assassin's creed #luna writes #ezio auditore #assassin's creed brotherhood #assassin's creed revelations #assassin's creed 2 #claudia auditore #OC #ghost story #giovanni auditore #federico auditore

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blahblahblippyblah · 5 years

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The Magic of Dust

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The story of the Marauders as they go through all 7 years at Hogwarts. However this take place in a universe where your soul manifests as a daemon. Which is a magical animal that is apart of you and cannot be separated from you.

For those who did not read His Dark Materials, daemons can transform between different animal representations when you are young, but will eventually find a final form when you grow up.

Daemons usually express what you are feeling deep down and are extensions of the people they are tied to.

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Sirius

“MOOOOOTHEEERRRRRR SIRIUS IS DOING IT AGAIN!”

Sirius heard his brother Regulus yell as he ran down the stairs towards the day room to fetch mother. Tattle tale he thought to himself.

“Hurry up before she comes, at least if you’re at the bottom you can deny it” Puddles his daemon said slithering from his arm to the banister. Puddles was currently a King Snake and his red band stood out in great contrast to the dusty green and dark black wood that made up the dingy dark stairwell of the Nobel and Most Ancient house of Black.

“Ok” Sirius said and he swung his leg up over the handrail and took a deep breath. He looked down the 5 stories of twisting staircases, It looked higher when he was perched on the edge. He steadied himself and then pushed off sliding down in circles as the staircase twisted magically to keep him from turning too sharp and flying off at one of the landings. Puddles slithered down the banister after him laughing as he went. He managed to pick up more sped then he anticipated and by the time he got to the last floor he couldn’t stop himself.

“SLOW DOWN!” Puddles yelled turning into a small fish crow to fly down after him faster.

Too late Sirius thought before he flew of the end and rolled into the hallway scraping his back across the carpet. Sirius then collapsed sprawled out on the floor. Man, that was a rush, totally worth the bruise. Puddles landed ontop of his chest and instantly turned into a fluffy back dog tail wagging furiously.

“That was awesome. Why don’t we do that to come downstairs everyday?” Puddles said.

Sirius was about to reply exactly why they didn’t when he heard the unmistakable sound of clacking heels heading towards them. The person who was the exact reason he didn’t do it every morning. Sirius jumped up quickly trying to look nonchalant and bent down to pick up Puddles who on que turned back into a King Snake and slithered up his sleeve just in time for Regulus and his mother to turn the corner.

“Hello Mother. I was… ummm… Just headed upstairs to change for supper” Sirius said trying to control his breathing so it wouldn’t sound like he was panting.

“Where is Pudicitiam?” His mother demanded. Pudicitiam was the name his parents had given his daemon when he first appeared when Sirius was 4 and a half. Pudicitiam meant ‘Pure’, something his parents had chosen because of a the Black family motto ‘Toujours Pur’. Sirius hated the name and the motto. He didn’t fall for the nonsense that pureblood were superior like he was constantly told. He also didn’t appreciate the Black family tradition of parents naming both their children and their daemons. As far as he knew that tradition was pure Black.

Walburga regarded him up and down. She was a tall thin women with a thick dark dress that stretched to the floor with long sleeves and a turtleneck that went all the way up to her chin. Her dark hair was pulled back tight into a high bun. Her presence was haunting and intimidating. It was also exasperated by the King Cobra daemon that slithered up beside her and hissed at him in displeasure. Sirius held out his arm and Puddles slithered out slowly keeping cautious eyes on Insignus, his mother’s Cobra. Having not caught him in the act she didn’t seem to have much to yell at him about.

Snakes were commonly the daemons of pure blood families. That tradition was common across Europe. Sirius was told ever since his daemon appeared that snake daemons signified superiority, intelligence and power. The greatest wizards of all time, Salazar Slytherin, Merlin, Grindelwald, The Minister for Magic, and anyone who was of any importance all had snake daemons. Stories even said Salazar Slytherins’ daemon was a Basilisk the most powerful snake of all. So from a very young age his parents made sure his daemon stayed as a snake, because a Black heir with anything but a snake for a daemon would be disgraceful.

Unfortunately Puddles hated staying as a snake, and whenever he was alone Puddle would usually transform into a small shaggy black dog. A few times when he got upset or angry Puddles would change without notice and his mother would get angry and usually punish him, especially is company was around.

“Very well, go wash up and put on some nicer clothes. Uncle Cygnus and the girls are coming for dinner to celebrate you going off to school tomorrow.”

And with that dismissal Sirius quickly as he could without running scurried up the stairs.

He didn’t notice until he got to the second landing that Regulus was following him into his room.

Sirius let him in, closed the door then turned on him.

“Why do you always have to run to mother?”

“You could have hurt yourself” Regulus said crossing his arms in anger. Sirius saw Nobella Regulus’ Smooth greens snake daemon poke his head out of Regulus’ collar tongue out sensing the air. She then whispered something in his ear and Regulus made a scrunched face.

“I’m sorry, I’m just upset you are leaving tomorrow, and I’m going to be all alone” Regulus said with a bit of a whine.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You won’t be alone. I’ll write to you everyday. And then next year you’ll be coming with me.”

Regulus looked at his feet but stayed quiet as if he had no retort.

“Come on, you can wear my favorite velvet robes to dinner. I’ll ever tie your tie” Sirius said reaching out to pull Regulus to his closet to try and cheer him up. As much as Regulus annoyed him he couldn’t stand to see his baby brother upset.

He would miss Regulus but he was too excited to go to Hogwarts to saying much else. He instead spent the rest of the night playing pranks on Bella and Cissy to keep Regulus smiling. Hopefully that would make up for it.

James

“James stop bouncing like that”

James’ mother scolded him as he stared up in awe at the glistening maroon train in front of him spilling steam onto the platform. Students and parents were running around greeting one another, pulling trunks onto the train and hugging their parent’s goodbye. Beside him Bahaadur was impatiently stepping in spot like he couldn’t wait to get on the train. James reached down and patted his back to calm him. His golden fur was soft to the touch. Today Bahaadur was a lion, and although he didn’t have a mane James thought he looked impressive non the less. He was proud of his daemon, when he was close and excited it made him feel 10 times more confident.

His mom knelt down in front of him. “Did you pack your extra jumper?”

“Yes”

“Your extra trainers?”

“Yes”

“Your extra set of quills and ink?”

“ummmmm… maybe” James said with an innocent smile.

His mom tutted at him.

“Don’t worry we’ll send them along in the mail” She said pulling him into a hug.

James blushed feeling embarrassed but hugged her back. She smelled of spices and freshly made bread. Beside him Sahaanubhooti (or Hooti for short) his moms swan daemon place her head on Bahaadur’s back in a farewell. When they finally broke apart his father came up and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You make us proud son.” Then he bent down and hugged him too. Raksha his tiger daemon then took his turn nuzzling into Bahaadur in his own farewell. When he stood up he said “The house is going to be so quiet with you gone.”

His mother laughed at that. “The elves will be bored with all the idle time.”

The train whistle blew, and the crowd stated forward.

“Oh you better hurry or you’ll miss the train” His father said guiding him forward.

James got onto the train and his father levitated his trunk in after him.

“Make sure to write at least once a week” His mother called waving.

“And stay out of trouble.” His father called.

And with that the train pulled out of the station. And the last view James had of his parents was them waving to him on the steamy platform.

Now by himself in the busy train hallway James was feeling a little worried. He had never been apart from his parents for more than 24 hours and now he was on his own. Bahaadur was now in his young stag form and his legs wobbled a little, which to James showed he too was worried. Bahaadur leaned against his leg either to comfort him or to comfort himself. Either way James appreciated the gesture.

James looked down at Bahaadur and Bahaadur looked up at him and together they said “ Maybe we should find some first years to share a trolley with?”

Sirius

After Creature the Black family house elf came back from bringing his trunk on board Sirius ran onto the train as fast as he could. He heard his mom calling after him but Sirius was so close to freedom that he couldn’t hold himself back. The only thing he heard was his mother shouting that he should write home before the end of the week and to remember not to consort with halfbloods. He also heard his father say something along the lines of coming home for Christmas, but both things he promptly ignored. He took off down the train corridor away from the carriage he knew Creature left his stuff, the same carriage his cousins would soon be coming to sit in. Sirius didn’t want to be around when they got on or he might get stuck with them the whole train ride. He made it through 2 carriages before the train started moving, by the third it was full steam ahead and the crowd who were waving out the windows started to disperse. When he got to the 3 carriage he was full running through the halls dodging people. Puddles was running beside him now in his black dog form which he changed into once they were out of sight of any Black family members, jumping over trunks and weaving between legs to keep up with Sirius.

He was almost to the door to the last train car when he accidently lost his footing a bit and slammed into someone, sending them both tumbling.

“BLOODY HELL!” The person shouted as he collided with him.

“Shit, Sorry mate” Sirius said quickly getting back up and offering the stranger his hand to help him up.

The guy looked his age. He had dark brown skin and spiky messy black hair and round glasses on. The guy looked both confused and irritated but took his hand none the less and Sirius helped him up.

“Sorry” He said again. “I was just trying to get away from my cousins.”

“No problem” The boy said. “You a first year?”

“Ya, you?”

“Ya. I’m James, James Potter, and this is Bahaadur” He said gesturing to the young stag standing beside him.

Puddles walked up to Bahaadur and sniffed at him, apparently, he liked what he smelled because he lowered his front and began wagging his tail like he wanted to play. Puddle never took to anyone’s daemon so quick before, so Sirius took that as a good sign. Plus, he knew the name Potter. His mother said the Potters were blood traitors, but Sirius knew enough about the intensive pureblood family tree he was forced to memorize to know the Potters were still pure blooded. So technically he was still obeying his mother’s orders.

“I’m Sirius, Sirius Black.” Sirius said offering his hand out for a shake. “And this is ummm….”

Sirius was about to say Puddles, but knew that would sound stupid and thus make him look stupid. But he wasn’t about to call Puddles Pudicitiam either, since then he would look super stupid as well as a prat. Quickly he tried to think of a name.

“Uhh. This is Fidèlami”

“Cool. Umm if you’re a Black why is your daemon a dog?”

“Oh ummmmm” Sirius rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not really fond of snakes. Mother hates when ummm Fidèlami looks like this, but she isn’t here so…” Sirius trailed off unsure what to say.

“No problem. I hate snaked too” James said scrunching his nose. “Anyway let’s find a car no point hanging around in the hallway”

Sirius followed James back into the very last cart and they searched for an empty car. They were all full except the very last one which had 4 people inside with two spare seats left. The four people inside looked about their age so James and him decided to go in.

Remus

Remus was so nervous he could barely hear to train whistle blow from the platform. He only got on just in time when his mom let him go from a big long hug and his father quickly ran him to the train to get one just in time. Once alone Remus went straight to the very back compartment. He was hoping he could stay solitary so as to not run into anyone. He had never been around any wizards, or muggle, let alone anyone his age. His parents kept him at home not only to keep him safe and secret, but also for the safety of others.

Remus understood why they did it. He was dangerous. Remus was a werewolf, and if anyone found out he would be in big trouble. Not only could he hurt someone if he got loose on a full moon, but the ministry would also take him away from his family to love under more ‘secure’ conditions. Remus didn’t know what these conditions were, but he really didn’t want to find out. The only thing worse than being taken away to a more ‘secure’ place would be if he accidentally hurt someone during the full moon. Then he would be ‘put down’, at least that’s what the ministry called it. So, Remus made the decision to take his father’s advice and stay away from others, and not get too close to anyone. If someone figured out what he was they would tell someone, then he would be in a lot of trouble, and Professor Dumbledore would get into trouble as well.

Remus never thought he would be able to attend Hogwarts. And if it wasn’t for Dumbledore he wouldn’t. He remembered when Dumbledore came to his house to give him his letter. His parents were so scared, they were especially scared when they found out Dumbledore knew what he was. But it turned out Dumbledore didn’t care. He offered Remus a place in his school for magic and reassure both him and his parents Remus would be safe. He would have a safe place to transform, a hospital to spend his days in after transforming and a matron to help heal him. It seemed too good to be true, yet here he was on his way to school. Remus really didn’t want to mess this up.

He sat by himself with Ileuad with daemon in his lap, gently petting her as he read his copy of Hogwarts: A History. She was currently in her Cotton Tail Rabbit form, which she stayed in most of the time. Having her close and warm against him helped calm his nerves. Ileuad was usually a quiet daemon, but today she was eerily quiet. Remus though this probably had to do with the fact they were both very scared for what lied ahead. So to calm his nerves he pulled out a book and began to read occasionally reading out cool facts to her. She simply nodded and nuzzled in closer to his chest.

Unfortunately shortly after he settled in 3 people had joined the compartment. A small Red head with bright green eyes and a mourning dove daemon on her shoulder. A think long nosed kid with dark greasy hair and tattered robes just like Remus’ with a small brown bat daemon clinging to his collar, and a bring blonde chubby boy with pink cheeks and blue eyes with a. chubby racoon daemon. They quickly introduced themselves as Lily, Severus, and Peter, and their daemons, Curant, Potio, and Aspecta, before Remus smiled and went back to his reading. However, he noticed Ileuad secretly listening to their conversation seemingly curious as Remus continued reading.

'This is fine. They mind their business ill mind mine and it’ll be perfectly ok.' Remus thought.

He just got to a chapter on the founders when the compartment door slammed open. The boy named Peter jumped at the loud crash, but Severus and Lily continued on with their heated conversation. Remus glanced over his book and the two boys took their seats and introduced themselves to Peter. The boy beside him was named James and his deer daemon was named Bahaadur. James had Messy black hair, that he kept making more messy by running his hand through it, and a mischievous smile that looked like he was ready to set something to explode. The by who sat down beside Peter also had Black hair, but his was longer and well groomed, pulled back with a black silk ribbon. His eyes were also grey not brown like James’. His name was Sirius Black, and his furry black dog daemon was named Fidèlami or Fid for short apparently They both wore expensive looking robes that weren’t Hogwarts issued meaning they were both probably from rich wizarding families. Peter eagerly started talking with them. Remus went back to his book.

He finished the chapter on the brief history of the founders and started a chapter on the magical architecture of Hogwarts.

'The grand staircase of Hogwarts contains 52 sets of moving staircases which provide access to the 13 floors of the castle. 54 sets on Wednesdays, and 50 during lunar eclipses. It is unknown who initially charmed the staircases to move of their own free will, however many historical documents rumoured is was the founder Rowena Ravenclaw who initially magicked them to life. There is currently no way to determine the pattern in which the staircases may move'. Remus read.

He was however distracted when the boy beside him suddenly seemed to shout at the greasy big nosed boy .

“Why would you want to be in Slytherin. Who wants to be a dirty great snake”

The greasy hair boy turned slowly to face James, his face was blank but his eyes seemed to fill with hate.

Ileuda discreetly nudged him to look at James who’s daemon was now the form of a lion who was posed aggressively on the set next to him staring at Severus and his daemon who’s daemon had changed into a snake now slowly circling his upper arm hissing as Snape replied back in a cold tone.

“Let me guess. You think you’ll be a Gryfindor.”

“I don’t think I know. Only brave and daring people get into Gryfindor”

“Not to mention stupid and foolhardy” Severus said with a sneer.

James stood up so quickly Remus almost dropped his book to wrap his arms around Ileuda. But Sirius stood up too and put his hand on James’s chest.

“He’s not worth it. Plus if yu hit him your fist would just get covered in grease” Sirius said pushing James back a little. But Remus noticed that although Sirius’ voice was talking James down his Daemon’s hair was standing on end and he was growling and baring his teeth at Severus.

“Leave Severus alone you prats” The girl named Lily said standing up.

“Oooooh getting your girlfriend to defend you Snivellous” Sirius taunted.

Lilt ignored this and grabbed Severus’ hand. “Come on, let’s find another compartment. Maybe one with better smelling people in it” And she pulled Severus out of the compartment after her.

Once gone both James and Sirius sat back down. James huffed out seemingly irritated and Sirius laughed a bit like a mad man. Soon the car fell silent again.

After a few second Peter broke the silence.

“So we know what house James want to get into. What about you Sirius?”

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writtenbyhappynerds · 4 years

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Unit 5- Twins Are Very Stupid

If you haven’t taken the Exam 1 quiz for Fanfiction 101 go do that!! That quiz covers material from the first four units: Rules for the Universe, Formatting, Face Claims, and Names. Everything from this unit onward will be a part of Exam 2.

Much like cliches in regular fiction, there are a plethora of cliches that exist in fanfiction. Some are specific to certain genres, some are on a wider scale as a whole. For this unit we are going to dissect common themes and ideas first based in specific genres (re: fandoms) of fanfiction and then open the floor up to widespread cliches as a whole. We’ll start with Twilight.

In Twilight, the biggest cliche we see is Bella Swan having a sister who is, “not like her sibling at all!” This isn’t original. It isn’t creative, and 9/10 times the unique sibling is a lot like Bella Swan they just talk more than her. Regardless of your feelings towards Stephanie Meyers and her books, what this shows me is a writer who is uncertain of how to approach the quiet, observational, internalized thinking of Bella Swan as a character. It also shows me a writer who believes loud is the complete opposite of quiet and because someone shouts their opinions more boisterously than the next girl, that makes them unique. Neither statement is true. Imagine Bella Swan’s sibling really being the complete opposite of her. Like, imagine Bella’s little sister in Seattle doing coke off a stripper’s asshole. You can’t. So don’t say that she’s the opposite. She isn’t, and that’s ok. Siblings can have common interests and like the same thing, and your OC is not a bad one if they are similar to Bella Swan. A better contrast to Bella Swan would be an OC that’s athletic. Bella Swan from the get-go is described as someone who is not an athlete, doesn’t spend time in the sun, and likes to be by themselves. A sun-kissed volleyball-playing little sister would be more contrasting to Bella Swan than someone who is again, her but louder.

In BBC’s Sherlock the biggest cliche the Editor and I have seen is Sherlock having a twin sister who is also a detective. Now in Unit 3: Face Claims, we discussed that Sherlock’s sibling shouldn’t be the voice of reason or conscience while also doing the exact same thing as him. This still stands. If Sherlock has a twin, that twin shouldn’t be seen as “the good one” or “the nice one” when they shoot the same things, break into the same places, and act just as manic as he does. It isn’t consistent. The twin should not be a carbon clone that is smarter and prettier and gets along with everyone else. That’s not a character, that’s a Mary Sue that solves crimes. There are 10,000 jobs in the world, and the best way to break the monotony of Sherlock’s twin is to make her something that isn’t a detective. Make her her own person. For example, Sherlock could have:

A twin sister who works as a crime statistician for the government. She’s been given a cushy office she doesn’t deserve because of Mycroft and she tries to call her brothers once a week. They don’t necessarily answer. She needs to use criminal trends to track where Moriarty will be so Mycroft can have him arrested and interrogated.

A sister who went to school for law, and became a powerful and wealthy corporate attorney. Sherlock paid off everyone in a mile radius? She paid off everyone in a 5-mile radius. She makes sure his bills are paid, his fridge is stocked, and that he and John are happy without either of them knowing. She uses her knowledge of the law to find holes in Baskerville’s policies that would allow Sherlock and John to sneak in.

A twin sister who’s a mom of two and likes to paint. She teaches at the local college and babysits her neighbor’s kids when she’s out. Mycroft is the godfather of both of her kids, and she likes to crochet when she has the time (she never does). She needs to figure out why the painting is a fake and what book fits the cipher.

My point is that Sherlock can have a twin. I don’t care, and that doesn’t trigger me like it triggers the Editor (I think she just has something against twins). Sherlock’s twin should have a personality of their own. The cliche in this genre is Sherlock having a twin that’s essentially, “genius but better.” If you make her exactly like him you limit the potential to make a story that’s compelling. You also break the rules of the universe, as you’ll have to go back and rewrite all the episodes to include her. Don’t do that to yourself.

In Supernatural, The big cliche is the boys having a teenaged Winchester sibling and/or a guardian angel. Bonus points if Cas is the guardian angel. I’ve also seen a lot of ‘Sam Winchester’s Guardian Angel’ and if that’s you after all the things that character has gone through you need to be fired. These ones just don’t make sense. They break the rules of the universe and make the cast have to bend over backward just for the character to exist. The original work should not be broken to fit your narrative. You have to make your prompt work in their established universe. Unfortunately, teenaged Winchester siblings do not work. There is not enough of a time gap between what we know about the story and this prospect to fit a 16-year old child. The same stands for Dean Winchester’s child. It doesn’t fit, so don’t try and force it to fit. You can have a teenaged hunter be significant and interact with the Winchesters without them being blood. By forcing them to be blood you go against one of the main themes of the show: Family don’t end in blood. Stop making Bobby Singer’s child OCs, or Cas’s, or Sam’s, or another illegitimate John Winchester child because we already have one who spent god knows how many years in hell. Instead, John Winchester could have family he’s estranged from. An older sister or brother who left the Winchester house after they turned 18 and never looked back. You could create a new pair of hunters, an OC who runs the halfway house for Hunters. Garth stepped in as Bobby when he died. Who stepped in for Jo and Tess? There are more options and much more creative options than pigeonholing one specific cliche.

Moving on, in the same vein of not needing an OC to be bound to the cast by blood, Hermione/Harry/Ron’s twin sister is a huge cliche. Sometimes the Hermione twin sister is also, “not like her sister at all,” a phrase that usually means, “also brilliant, but more attractive and funnier.” The origin of these OCs, however, is minuscule to the fact that they always either end up dating Draco Malfoy or are in a love triangle and/or square, where all the boys in Harry Potter (Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Draco Malfoy) are in love with the OC. As a matter of fact can we just get rid of love triangles altogether? They’re exhausting and not realistic. They don’t add enough to the story to make it meaningful, and an OC should have a story that’s more compelling than “which boy am I going to end up with?” Also, usually, these stories tell you in the title. I’m talking about the [Fred x reader], [Draco Malfoy x Reader] titles, though the same is true for any writer who puts [Love Interest x OC] in their title. What is the point of a love triangle my guys? What are you doing? We already know before we even read the first chapter who the main character is going to end up with, so why bother wasting our time with a love triangle?

The other Harry Potter cliche, is the youngest Weasley sibling who is a girl. This is a huge no-no and should be stricken from the record entirely because, once again, it breaks the rules of the universe. We know from the Harry Potter books that Molly Weasley wanted and craved a daughter and kept having kids until she got one. This is why Ron is the least loved, as he was the last boy in the family before Ginny, as said by the Horcrux in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows “Least loved always, by the mother who craved a daughter. Least loved now by the girl who prefers your friend” (Rowling 375). What this means, is that if you make an OC who is the youngest Weasley sibling, and a girl, you completely go against the desires and intentions of Molly Weasley as well as devalue and undercut the importance of Ginny Weasley- her tokenism as the only girl is tied to the significance of being the first and last daughter Molly Weasley ever had. Without that, with another girl there is no need for Ginny Weasley, and as we’ve discussed numerous times here: Your OC should never replace a member of the cast. What is acceptable, however, is Ginny Weasley having a twin sister, or even being a triplet. If you are sold on a youngest-girl Weasley fanfic, make them a twin or triplet of Ginny. If you go above or below her you break the rules of the universe. They have to stay on her level. In addition, please see Unit 4: Nameberry.com to properly name your Weasley sister OCs, as they have to fit the style and vibe of being named after nobility. Moving on.

The next handful of cliches don’t apply to any particular genre. Every genre is equally guilty of having these cliches, and what we’re going to do is use some works for specific examples of these cliches, but know that they apply to everyone; not just the work we’re referencing.

If a character is marketed as a strong and capable badass who is independent and a boss and kicks ass and takes names, they should not turn into a wimp because their love interest wants to “protect” them. “Protection” as a whole is such a cliche. It’s in practically every story. If a character has been described as strong and has up until this point kicked a lot of ass, that character will not break down and destroy all the character development they just made for the sake of a love interest. A character who is described as strong will also not let their love interest try and stifle them like that. “Protection” is overused, and unless the character is going to crumble like a daisy at first blood or is living in a war zone, they can handle it themselves.

Again… We’ve all seen Pretty Little Liars. It’s almost funny how many cliches came from that show and book series. Let’s talk about evil twins. I don’t just mean evil in the Alison DiLaurentis way where she stole her sister’s identity and had her carted off to inpatient treatment, I also mean evil in that they are everything their cast member sibling is, but superior. This is evident in so many siblings and twin fics. The evil twin is usually better at everything than the cast twin, and systematically destroys the cast member’s life for fun. Now, I’m not saying this isn’t a valid plot point. What I am saying is you can’t make the evil twin better at everything than the cast member twin. That’s not realistic, and it negates the need for a struggle. A villain is not a more intimidating adversary because they’re better at everything than the hero. An evil twin is not scarier or more frightening as a villain because they can do 3 flips into a punch while the hero only can do 2. Also if the villain is so wonderful and so much better how is it realistic when the hero defeats them? It isn’t. “The same but better” shows me as a reader that the writer is uncomfortable with character creation, and making stakes that mean something or seeing their character struggle. Not only will it make the OC more realistic, but it will make the story more fun to write.

A writer uncomfortable with the struggle is another cliche we see often. It takes the form of characters who are perfect, who hit every step just right and have the best comebacks all the time. We as people fail and fall down, and characters are meant to be a reflection of us that we can relate to. An audience won’t relate or root for a character that always accomplishes their goal. It actually makes the character boring because, we know they’re going to do what they set out to do so why bother reading? Characters are allowed to have flaws. Those flaws, and seeing consequences for those flaws are what make a character compelling, and for every positive attribute that a character has we should see 1-2 flaws that reflect that attribute. For example, in my own original work Trapped, the main character is an alien on a planet that is thousands of years ahead of Earth in technology, intellect, and scientific advancements. One of these characters is an upstart student training in one of the top labs to be a doctor. He has people working underneath him, and he’s clearly achieved. His work ethic is incredible and he is dedicated to his field. However, his dedication has cut him off from his family- their relationship is strained to the point where one of his siblings entered the same field just to catch a glimpse of him. He is afraid to be emotionally vulnerable because he has to have the answers to all these questions. He doesn’t know how to relax, because he’s always at work and this has cost him a life outside of the lab. He gets annoyed easily because he thinks fast enough to see the answer and becomes frustrated when he has to work with other people. We’re going to revisit this in the next unit, but a character without flaws is a boring character because the flaws are what allow us as readers to do our own analysis and find a deeper meaning in someone as a whole.

Our final cliche is the ire of the Editor’s existence. It is twins who are separated at birth or end up in foster care that magically find each other at the start of the story. I also kind of hate this cliche, because again, we’ve all seen The Fosters or is it Switched At Birth? I don’t know, and I don’t really care. If you have a character who is taken from their actual family, you need to double-down and commit to the issues that OC would have. That character wouldn’t show up on someone’s doorstep and magically be taken into the family as one of their own. Life doesn’t work that way. The foster care system is a horribly broken system (at least in the US it is) and that character many times won’t have access to that. In the US, for that information to be given there needs to be reciprocated interest in both the fostered child and the biological parent (usually the father). In divorce proceedings, the courts will almost always give the child to the mother unless the mother has a severe strike against her that would make her unfit to keep a safe environment for her child (prison time, drugs, etc.). The courts really dislike the idea of taking a baby away from its mom, which means that fathers rarely get custody of the child, and a non-blood relative even less than that. When the child is underage, the biological parent can’t show up on a doorstep and demand to see their child. They need to go through the courts and express a desire in having a relationship with their child. The child would then get an advocate, who would speak for them in court and make sure their wishes (to see or not to see their parents) are expressed. The foster system is messy and wrong and sometimes cruel, and if you are going to write switched at birth or foster-twin stories, you need to do your research on the judicial system. It isn’t just showing up on a doorstep with a birth certificate. It’s gritty and messy and if you want it, you have to take in it all.

Next week we are going to talk about realism, and how to really capture both the voices of cast members, as well as realistically write living scenarios. Remember to take Fanfiction 101 Exam 1 if you haven’t yet, and everything from this unit until Crossovers will be on Exam 2.

References:

Joanne Rowling. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Scholastic, 2007.

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