#*sets the Raven as phone wallpaper* yes.....

[forfamily]

Raph paused, taking a sip of the port as he removed his hand from the large envelope. It was odd, that. Giving up all that power, the authority. His word was second only to Bianca's- and now he would be returning to being a regular man. Or as regular as a man could be on a multi-million dollar yacht; Dario had invited him to join him on his sail around the world and Raph had decided to join him, which was why they were here now.

He lowered his glass, a small, fond smile curving the hard edges of his mouth. "...I've known Bibi since she was a child; I was a punk teenager back then. Dario, the Old Lion, saw something in me that even I couldn't see. He plucked me off of Naples' dirtiest streets and provided me with the opportunity to rise to the very top. He was raising Bianca; his own son abandoned her, basically, and Dario disowned him. She became the precious star of Zeppeli, polished to perfection over the years. She was eighteen when the Old Lion decided to pass on the crown."

Those steely eyes darkened. "There were a few in the Famiglia who disagreed with that choice- she was a delicate woman, too young, you know how it is. A dozen of them turned traitors, willing to sell secrets to other Families to further their gain. Bianca executed all twelve of them herself. The bodies she buried that day laid the foundation for her rule as Baroness."

Raph glanced at his phone before downing the rest of his drink and starting to stand. "We can meet her now, actually." For the first time, the older man hesitated, his gaze moving over his young, strong, handsome companion. "... The Baroness is terrifying and strange and beautiful. She's honey and gunpowder in equal measure. Your job is to guide her, yes, but you will love her and you’ll lust after her. It's inevitable, you see. But you must do so from afar or she will ruin you." A warning. Perhaps even a threat. -----------------

Palazzo Zeppeli stood outside of the city proper, an 18th-century structure that maintained most of the original structure and outer buildings. However, beneath the old stones and faded paint was the latest in tech and weaponry. Highly trained men who were the top in their chosen fields.

Raph emerged from the car as it pulled to a stop on the cobbled round about and was greeted. “And Bianca?”

“At the pool with her music, sir.” The soldier glanced over at Dio with clear curiosity. “Is that—“

“Soon, yes.” Raph gestured for Dio to follow him up the steps to the large double front doors. The palazzo was indeed grand, but there was a shabbiness that came with all old buildings; faded wallpaper, peeling in some places, antique furniture, polished in some places, others distressed. Doors and windows stood wide open, the breeze rustling flowing curtains. Raph guided Dio through the ground floor, pointing out rooms and things of interest until they passed through a sunroom and out to the back where a large pool was set in the brick ground.

Music from somewhere bounced through the air, a powerful opera. Bianca Zeppeli was neither short nor tall, with a body dominated by curves yet sculpted by muscle, wrapped in a flowing sundress. She moved over the surface of the water, bare feet hardly touching as she hit the different ballet positions, flowing from one to another to the beat of the music. As she twirled, her hair, as black as a raven's wing, flowed behind her. As the music hit its crescendo before fading away, she finally spotted the two men and made her way across the water to the brick.

"Raph, you're back." She gripped his forearm as she leaned up to press a kiss to his chin. Then her gaze turned to the stranger. Her eyes were large, long-lashed, the color of whiskey- they held shadows and secrets. "As lovely as always, Bibi. I always thought you should have gone into it professionally." The older man inclined his head. "Baroness, this is the young man I spoke to you about. Dio Brando, this is Baroness Bianca Zeppeli."

"Flatterer." She gave Raph's arm a gentle slap before her gaze turned back to the blond. They were unreadable, those eyes, as they met and held his. "So you will be the one who helps guide my destiny."

She held out her right hand, then. On her ring finger, a golden ring resembling a lion-headed door knocker. She watched the blond intently.

dio brando observes the old man before him with keen interest, his amber stare ablaze with a scintillating gleam that is near uncanny in its intensity. those fiery eyes remain fixed on their subject all the while he speaks; serving as both a quiet promise of the younger lawyer’s tenacity, but even more so than that, an unspoken show as to his fearsome reputation.

throughout his short yet fruitful career, the junior attorney has labored countless hours through sunrises and sunsets alike, all to endear himself indelibly to his work superiors and to grow his network however and wherever he can – and now, at last, his efforts are paying off in the form of better prospects. the offer to work for such a powerful family is more than enough to entice dio, although he is less intrigued by the money or the job itself, and far more so by what it has the potential to bring him. 

even so, he does not make this decision lightly. with supreme amusement and just a touch of wistfulness, he recalls the aghast expressions upon the slack-jawed faces of his support staff upon his revelation that he is moving onto bigger and better things. evidently, the thought of an office lacking the presence of dio brando is too horrific for them to bear. indeed, he will miss the soft power he has cultivated at his previous firm, and the near-constant praise and adoration it has afforded him; despite the pleasure he takes in denying both their pleas that he stay and their offers to follow him with saccharine apologetics. but these are trivial entertainments, and dio will not allow distractions to come between himself and his boundless potential. finally, those with real power have taken note of his ambition, as he very well deserves. and as with every opportunity he has managed to seize, he intends to make the most of this one.

❝ ...but of course, sir, ❞  he says, once he is certain that the elder man has finished speaking.  ❝ respect must be earned, after all. ❞  dio barely heeds the rest of the proud lawyer’s lengthy oration save for its most pertinent details, nodding attentively as is appropriate – upon this point, however, he emphatically agrees.  ❝ and should you be so gracious as to afford me the opportunity, i will accomplish exactly that – and so much more. ❞  this he says with such conviction, it almost borders on a threat.  ❝ i gladly accept. ❞ 

and with the coveted job now firmly within his grasp, dio can no longer suppress the proud smirk that upturns the corners of his lips. he raises his glass of wine for an unspoken toast, savoring one slow, lingering sip.

❝ tell me more about the baroness, if you would be so kind. ❞  he sets the glass aside, turning his attention toward raphael once more.  ❝ when shall i have the privilege to meet her? i’m quite eager to begin our working relationship. ❞ 

[nabesthetics]

[bird-on-a-wire20]

morning sex

Here's the thing. You don't stay overnight. It's just a rule you've had for yourself for the last decade. So when you wake up, panicked because you don't recognize the wallpaper or the feel of the sheets beneath you or...the absolute mass of warm man-flesh next to you, one muscular arm laid over your stomach, that you're not quite sure what to do with yourself. 

Even if you could heave yourself out from under the deadweight of this arm that feels like it's the size of a small maple tree, you don't remember where you dropped your clothes, or your shoes, or fuck, even your purse. This is why you don't do overnights because morning is where the panic sets in. The regret of another night filled with a decent fuck, a well-intentioned lover, and one more story for the novel you'll write when you turn 80. But regret all the same. It's not the sex you regret - no, that's always been relatively good, though last night was the exception, to be sure. The hazy memories of a string of orgasms beginning to form in your mind. 

You shut your eyes, focus on your breathing (hard to do with said tree limb across you, but you manage), shut down the panic and the regret, and try to form an escape plan. 

And then he kisses the back of your neck like this is any typical fucking Sunday morning, pulling you back into his embrace, one broad palm resting on your chest, his forearm resting half on and half between your breasts. 

Here's the other thing that comes in the morning. The fact that despite all your suave efforts and most charming acts the night before, you have absolutely no fucking chill. And who would, when they fucked Henry Cavill for most of the night, and possibly again early this morning (you weren't looking at the clock, so it's a guess). 

"Morning," he murmurs, another kiss against the back of your neck, his face nuzzling against your hairline. 

"...howdy…" you say, and then immediately cringe, because what the fuck is wrong with you? 

There is a moment of stillness between you both. You're hoping he didn't hear you, and him probably wondering how the hell he can find his phone to get his handler to dispose of you. But then he laughs, and you can feel his body shake against yours for a moment before he turns you in his arms, so you're facing him. 

God, he looks gorgeous. Even with bed head, his stray curls going in a multitude of directions, and a day's worth of stubble, he looks good.

"I can hear your brain working in overdrive, Plum," Henry says, and he reaches one of those large, broad hands up to your face, cupping your cheek and your jaw and half your head basically, with just the span of his hand. "Relax." 

"I'm not very good at mornings," you admit, honestly. Giving a small half-shrug like that can explain all of your weirdness. "Normally, I...leave before the sun comes up." 

Henry smiles softly at you, the dimple on his cheek appearing before he leans in and kisses you. It's softer and sweeter than the night before, and you feel yourself melting into it, one hand sliding up his chest, his chest hair soft and sparse beneath your palm, the other cupping his jaw.  

12 hours ago, you'd been all but ravenous for one another. You'd barely made it up the elevator and into his room before he'd slammed you against the inside of the door. Your panties had ended up somewhere, and he'd dropped to his knees in front of you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as his mouth descended between your legs. 

The kiss ends slowly, and you're almost reluctant to pull your mouth away, but eventually, you do, and you meet his slate blue-grey eyes. 

"Hi," you say, cheeks turning a little pink, but you're starting to feel less awkward, a little more at ease, a little more confident in the fact that in the warm hazy glow of morning, he still wants you. 

"Better?" he asks, and you nod, letting out a little sigh as you feel his other hand slide along your side, squeezing your hip and pulling your thigh up over his. It's then that you remember you're still incredibly naked, and that movement puts you closer to him, to the thick, ready, length of him. 

"Much," you whisper, closing the minute distance between you, the steady thump-thump of your heart beating in your chest in time to a similar aching throb in your clit. You're tender and swollen from the night before but fuck if your body doesn't respond to him in a way it hasn't with other less fortunate lovers. 

"Mmm, rock your hips, Plum. Let me feel you." His already low voice still carries the rasp of the morning, and the urgency of his request does things to you. And by that, you definitely mean you absolutely grind yourself against his dick, biting your bottom lip as the head of his cock bumps up and over your clit. 

"Fuck," you say, trying to find traction on the mattress as you writhe against him. "I just need…" The words catch and disappear in your mouth as he heaves you up and over him, seating you right where you both want it. The new angle gives you the traction you were looking for, and you can't help but buck against him, over him. "Shit...yes…yes." 

He watches you, thoroughly amused, his hands resting on your hips, before moving them to slide up and down your thighs, all the time his breath coming in short spurts as he tries to keep some semblance of control. 

You realized early on in last night's rendezvous that Henry is an incredibly tactile person. You'd expressed interest last night, and there had been no going back. He'd been quick to get his hands on you, a soft palm at your back as he led you out of the restaurant or the harsh grip of his thumb and forefinger on your chin/jaw when he'd finally kissed you properly, right there in the elevator, between floors 15 and 16.

"I'm already close," you sigh on a ragged breath, your palms flat against his chest, your hips moving almost violently in their desire to chase your impending orgasm. 

"Not yet," Henry says. "I want to taste you again." His hands-on your thighs tighten, stopping you from moving.

"But…" you begin. 

"That too if you're a good girl," he says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes, which lands you a tight hard swat across one ass cheek. 

You're about to admonish him, but he's already pulling you up toward him and sliding down. Then suddenly, you're rocking forward to grip the headboard as you find yourself unsteadily kneeling over Henry's face. 

His breath is hot against you, and he teases you with kisses on the insides of your thighs, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your skin. You jump slightly when you feel the hot slide of his tongue along the delicate skin between your thigh and your pussy. 

You can feel him shift slightly, his thumbs sliding over you, parting you to finally press his mouth over your clit.

"Henry…." You drag out the last syllable of his name, your voice keening high as he swipes his tongue over you. Soft and slow, alternating with a hungrier, needier want, sucking your clit until you reach down and sink your fingers into his curls. Your fingers curl around the soft strands as you hold his head still and grind yourself down against him and finally, almost painfully, tip over the edge. 

You're hardly aware of him moving as you let yourself collapse back on the mattress, your body still recovering as he slips back into the bed behind you. He's slipped on a condom, and he takes his time, teasing your already tender flesh before fitting the fat head of his dick at your entrance.  

"Good?" He asks, his mouth against the shell of your ear. 

"Mmhmm," you mumble because it's all you can coherently think right now because despite having just orgasmed, your body is aching for him, needing to feel as full as you did when he took you for the first time last night. When you came riding the very precipice of pain and pleasure. 

He takes it slow, knows he's worked you over more times than either of you are accustomed to, but you don't know the next time your schedules will align, and hell if you're not going to make the absolute most of this 24 hours. 

"Fuck," he growls, and you can tell he's trying to hold back. "Feel so fucking good. You like this?"

"Yes, god, yes," you answer. You reach up to hold his shoulder, anchoring yourself as he starts to move fast, his thrusts becoming less measured, a staccato of movements until he presses you deep into the mattress with a loud groan. 

Soon you'll have to move, find your clothes, and get dressed. Still, for now, you're content to lie absolutely embraced by this gorgeous man, who smells like wood and leather, and the potential for another round of questionable yet satisfying decisions. 

[drethanramslay]

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :)) 

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld​

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[small-fortunes]

John Wick || Blood of the Raven King

Act Two || Scene Two || Concurrence

Bobby woke with a start!

A loud thump in her room caused her to bolt upright with a panicked shout atop her bed. Her blurred eyes took seconds to adjust to the low light of the room and even as her sleep blurred vision clarified, the unfamiliar surrounds did nothing to lessen her anxiety. If anything, she cast her sight about the furniture, unsettled, displaced. Slowly, recollection dawned upon her. No, this was not her dorm room in Oxford, nor was it her old bedroom in Essex. The wallpaper was too elegant and the cornice moldings were too ornate. This was not even her bed.

No, it took a few long moments to pull herself together but given time she realized this was her Uncle's hotel and she was once more a guest to his rooms. This was not England, but the United States of America. The digital clock on the bedside table read 2:34pm. And that thump that she swore came from within the room was certainly her doing. In her sleep she must have thrashed about and swung her arm out, knocking the brass bedside lamp clear off its table. It lay upon the carpet beside the bed with its pale lampshade askew.  She could not remember when it was that she had gone back to sleep after her frenzied writing earlier that morning. Only that she found herself extremely tired afterwards and laid down for what she promised herself would only be a half hour. The sound of the rain so soothing and the hotel so impeccably quiet it seemed. So much for that! 

Swinging her legs free of the bed linen, Bobby bent to set the lamp back upright and found her phone flashing face down on the carpet. The lamp cable had also knocked it free when it came crashing down. 

Sliding her thumb along the slick glass screen, she noted a half dozen messages from her friends Connie and Nate. All which followed the same pattern. 

'Bobby?! Are you awake!? Charon tells us you're fighting jetlag and we don't believe him.' That was Connie at 9:17am.

'Ahoy Bobbette! We're coming to The Continental at midday for lunch and your elusive company. Make yourself decent. Or not, you know I'm kinky.' Read the message from Nate at 11:12am. 

'Bobby! New York doesn't sleep and nor should you, idle princess. We demand your company, and a glass of lemonade, to douse you with.' Connie at 12:15pm. 

'Shall we send Mario round with a plunger? Did you fall in again or have you discovered Narnia?' Wrote Nate at 1 o'clock.

Bobby could not help but chuckle at her friends and their teasing. 

'Heaven forefend Roberta Kent! It's 1:30pm! If you're in bed with a man, throw him out at once and come downstairs! Your Uncle is making eyes at me and I'm feeling conflicted. If you're not down within the hour I'm coming up to get you!' Wrote Connie. And no sooner did she read the last word than she jolted sharply, for there came a powerful knocking at her room door. Connie's clear British accented voice could be heard from the other side. 

"Bobby? Bobby, it's Connie, won't you let me in?"

"Yes, yes I'm coming! Give me a moment!" Called Bobby rushing from the bedroom and out into the lounge. 

In moments she was at the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open to reveal her friend, colleague and confidante, Constance Blakehurst in a chic deep blue pencil dress and black patent leather heels. Her mane of shoulder length blonde hair had been curled into elegant waves and her ice blue eyes assessed her friend in her pajamas although it was well past two in the afternoon, with gracious good humor. 

"Good Heavens, Bobby Kent! Have you any idea what time it is? Do not for an instant tell me you were still abed this hour?"

"Well...I, uh-"

"Read your messages? Yes, I know, your phone's in your hand and still in one piece which is miraculous considering Nate and I blew it up every hour since this morning. Well? Are you going to let me in so I can greet you properly or are we going to continue this conversation in the hallway?"

"Oh, Connie! It's so good to see you again! I missed you dreadfully!" Said Bobby brightly, stepping aside and letting her friend enter before shutting the door behind her. The two women exchanged an excited school girl's hug that was complimented by many cheek kisses and hair caresses. 

"And I you, to be sure! And Nate hasn't shut up about you since you emailed to say you were coming back to New York! You should hear him darling, every thirty seconds he repeats your name. He's positively beside himself in joy. You really should change your mind and date him already!" 

"Connie! Won't you give up the match maker game?! I've told you before, Nate and I are just good friends." 

"Then can I assume that along with the destruction of your walking cane, you've regained the confidence for other prospects?" 

"No! Honestly, I'm not looking." 

"And even if you were they'd abandon your room in screams of terror if they saw you in that choice not sleepwear!"

This drove a flush of colour to Bobby's cheeks and peel of laughter to follow.

"What's wrong with these pajamas? You were the one that bought them for me to begin with!"

"That was four years ago, Bobby darling. I'm surprised you've not worn holes in them by now, you wear them so often."

"Well, you should be honored that I treasure your gifts so intently and make such good use out of them."

"And I am!" Exclaimed Connie, taking her friend's hands adoringly in her own and beaming in pride.

"Oh, even with your hair a mess and your those old PJs, you're still a picture of loveliness! Go on, give us your runway swagger, sweetheart! Everyone's been absolutely raving about how the magnificent Roberta Kent has gone from wheelchair bound with partial spinal paralysis to walking unassisted on heels! You should hear your Uncle rave about you!"

Bobby complied to her friend's request turning a graceful pirouette on the ball of her foot and then taking to strolling a lap about the living room, circling the coffee table twice in a figure eight before coming back to stand before Connie with a graceful bow. Well! Connie was beside herself in pride. She applauded loudly, cat-calling in the most unladylike fashion and rushed her friend to smother her in a multitude of kisses. The two girls were in fits of laughter.

"Oh Connie! Don't, you're smudging your lipstick, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be silly darling, that's what kiss proof is for! Oh my God! Two years and nine months to the day and I never thought when I saw you in that hospital, that I'd ever watch you walk without assistance again. Oh my sweet God! It's a miracle, I swear it."

"Shh, Connie, sweetheart, don't cry now. There's truly nothing miraculous about it. Honestly. I just got lucky that they didn't damage something irreparable. The rest was all science and dedication."

"And you're truly not in pain at all?" Asked Connie sniffing and wiping at her nose for she could not stem the flow of happy tears.

"No, thank goodness. I mean, not like I used to be. It comes and goes intermittently and I'm more sensitive in the cold. And I'm stiff in the mornings getting up and moving about but once I get going for the day I'm right as rain." Bobby replied, pulling a tissue free of its box on the side table and seeking to wipe at her friend's eyes.

"Oh, Bobby! I'm so happy for you! Truly! You wait till Nate sees you walking. It's all he could talk about the entire trip from Ireland."

Again the girls crushed each other in another warm embrace.

"Well, I'll be more than happy to show him my walk in person. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting, honestly. It was a long journey over and you'd think I'd be used to travel by now. This stupid injury has slowed me down somewhat. But never mind that, you look stunning, honestly! Did you tint your hair? It appears a lighter blonde than before."

"I did, you charming girl, do you like it?" Connie beamed, caressing her tresses.

"Oh most certainly! It sets off your eyes! And that dress! It looks so expensive!"

"Vivienne Westwood my darling, only the best to walk about in such a swanky hotel." Now it was Connie's turn to spin a circle allowing her companion to admire her fully.

"Startling! Honestly!" Bobby exclaimed. "Hey, is it true what you said in the text? About Uncle Winston?"

"Coming on to me? No of course not, silly girl. I was just trying to get you downstairs sooner. He's as charming as ever. He ages so regally in his silk cravats. Honestly, what a perfect gentlemen he is. I can't believe he never married."

"Well, you could always propose yourself as willing."

"Roberta!" Connie cried, "He's like, what? Thirty years my senior?!"

"Don't let him hear you say that! I made a casual reference to it last night over dinner and he fixed me with the most wounded pout."

"I'll bet he did! Now come on, girl, out of these bedclothes at once and into that bathroom. We need to have you presentable inside of fifteen minutes or the boys are likely to drink themselves to death waiting for us. And I've a million things to tell you, but first, please tell me you were good enough to pack a few decent dresses. I'll kill you if you're going about a classy place as this dressed in nothing but your tactical gear."

"What's wrong with jeans?" Bobby complained with an amused quirk of her lips.

"Are they designer labeled?" Connie asked with an arch of her brow and her hand on her hip.

"What if they come from Target?"

"Then your obituary will say you were strangled by cheap, poorly made denim."

The girls shrieked with laughter and sure enough, Connie rushed her friend back into the bedroom.

As good friends do, Connie helped pick a pretty blue and white dress with laced sleeves and shapely contours out of Bobby's wardrobe. She was greatly relieved that her companion had the foresight to bring an array of casual and formal day and evening wear that was certainly not cheap, poorly made denim and simple t-shirts. Within twenty minutes Bobby was washed, brushed, made up and dressed, looking every bit the alluring young woman Connie remembered her to be before her tragedy had befallen her. And all throughout her toilette, the girls exchanged vivid chatter and gossip. For they spoke frequently on the phone, via Skype and even exchanged letters and post cards whilst on their travels around the world; but nothing compared to being in the same physical room with each other. Connie kept tearing up and wiping at her eyes, having to readjust her eyeliner and hair before finally taking her friend by the arm and guiding her out the door.

On the way down the hall and into the elevator, Bobby turned the conversation round to the dream she'd had the night before and had written about extensively in her dream diary that morning. Connie was accustomed to listening to and attempting to decode Bobby's dreams over the years. Both ladies had taken on a particular interest in the intermittently reoccurring nature of the dream wherein Bobby found herself walking a suspended bridge that seemed to have no ending in sight. Connie had noted that the dreams seemed to occur more so in times of duress. Especially, it seemed, after Bobby had reported to having had a panic attack. They appeared to be the aftermath of symptoms associated with post traumatic stress as a repercussion of her trauma for which Connie was exceptionally sympathetic towards. Naturally, Connie questioned her friend about her general health and made a mental note of her assumptions. That Bobby had just undergone her longest flight across the globe since her recovery in years and was attending her Uncle's domain whom had a disinherited hand in the events that had befallen her friend's ill fate. This, she reasoned, was likely the cause of the dream's resurfacing.

What Bobby had not gotten around to explaining was that this time the man she'd seen on the bridge in her dream had taken on distinct and ominous features. What's more, she'd not had the opportunity to express that she had been overtaken by some inexplicable dizzy spell that was seemingly detracted by the black dressed couple on the stairs that she had met the night before. Or that the gentlemen in question shared the face of the man in her dream. That for the first time ever, she felt positive she was making some sort of connection to something, somewhere. Only she had absolutely no idea what or where. But that couple was haunting. She'd almost forgotten about them in Connie's company. At last, when they exited the elevator and meant to cross the lobby's ground floor to attend the dining room, Bobby could not help but stop and stare at the staircase, alarming her friend.

"Bobby? Is everything alright dear? You look positively pale. Are you going to be ill?"

Bobby shook her head slowly. The stair case was being attended by bellhops and hotel guests that came up and down in orderly lines about their business.

"No, not at all. I just... I'm being silly. Let's go, we've wasted enough time already and I'm sure Nate and Uncle will be put out." Taking a deep breath, Bobby smiled and took her friend's arm warmly.

As they passed the reception desk and its moderate line of patrons, Charon and his neatly dressed lady assistant were busy attending to their bookings. Even so, Bobby called to the Concierge over the sweet melody of classical music and guest chatter. The dark gentlemen in his pristine suit looked up from his monitor and fixed Bobby and her friend with a gentle smile and a polite incline of his head in acknowledgement before returning to his work, booking in his latest client.

"My goodness! Are they always so busy?" Connie asked as they made their way to the dining room doors.

"I imagine so. I've never known it any other way. But it does quiet down at night." Bobby responded.

"Welcome back, ladies." Said the maître d'hôtel, gesturing the two friends within. "The manager and your companion has been awaiting your company."

"Thank you so much, that's very kind of you." Bobby replied, smiling at the young man with his sparkling hazel eyes and exotic features. Generally, Winston was renowned for housing much the same staff in his hotel. His turn-over was infrequent at best. But this gentleman who was the same fellow that hosted front of house at dinner last night seemed to be a fairly recent addition as far as Bobby could recall. All the same, he was gracious and neatly uniformed, gesturing the two ladies into the dining room where a number of tables were filled with other guests enjoying their afternoon repast.

"Oh my goodness! There she is!" Called Nate, rising to his feet and rushing a beeline toward Bobby. Winston too was on his feet, beaming in his tan sports coat as his niece was once again reunited with her two friends. The two men had been chatting amicably while the girls were upstairs. Winston was such a sharp witted and well spoken gent, that conversation came easily between the two men. They had much to discuss and much in common with regards to Bobby's fortuitous good health. They were each enjoying a glass of rich French cognac before Nate spied the ladies being led in.

"Well, hot damn, lil' mama! Look at you! Walking!"

"Shh, Nate, not so loud, you'll embarrass her!" Connie urged, squeezing her friend's arm.

"No more than she should be, surely!" Nate replied brightly, hugging Bobby tightly and kissing her cheeks. "Oh, but you look wonderful, babe, for real! How are you feeling? No more walking cane! I can't believe it. I'm so proud of you! Hard road, eh?"

"Well, it wasn't easy, I tell you. But look! I'm in heels and everything!" Bobby beamed, looking down at her dainty black point-toed shoes. Nate nodded appreciatively and turned to give each lady one of his arms to escort them back to the manager's table.

"You certainly are darling, but were it up to me, heels or not, you'd never walk unescorted. Now, come on, your Uncle was sharing the most riveting tales of his guests with me."

The trio crossed the floor happily rejoining Winston who came forward to kiss his blushing niece on her cheeks.

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty. Why, we thought you'd never join us." Winston greeted.

"I did warn I was tired, and your beds are remarkably comfortable." Bobby returned warmly, reaching to take her Uncle in an embrace. Nate meanwhile sought to help Connie into her seat whilst Bobby whispered against her Uncle's ear. "I'm sorry about last night, Uncle. Will you forgive me?"

"For what? Having an opinion? Perish the thought. It's all been forgotten darling girl, now sit with me and your friends a while and have something to eat." The elder gentleman whispered back, breaking away to give his niece yet another kiss upon her cheek before helping her into her seat.

"And here we have her, our lady of the hour, Bobby Kent. In the flesh." Winston introduced to the table as he took his seat. Connie and Nate could do nothing if not smile appricitively. They'd been waiting for their friend's company a good long while and were delighted to have her in their grasp once more.

"Waiter," Winston called, getting the attention of a passing gent in this spotless white apron, "a bottle of wine for the table if you please. The '97 Pinot Gris from South Australia I think, considering the occasion." The waited bowed his head at the order politely before dispatching to the bar.

Bobby put her hand on her Uncle's arm, raising her brows in alarm.

"But Uncle, it's so early in the day."

"What? It's past two o'clock, my girl. Did you have pressing plans that required your express sobriety?" Winston replied with a laugh.

"No, I suppose not." Bobby returned, shifting in her seat and feeling very suddenly like a child being permitted to sit at the big people's table. She must have blushed for Nate and Connie both took each of her hands adoringly and laughed.

Between them, the four set to amicable and lively conversation. Their meal was served in relatively short order. Both Connie and Nate were in awe of the expansive seasonal selection of platters and delicacies, heaping great praise upon Winston, whom directed it all back to his international team of passionate and creative chefs whom took it upon themselves to curate a spectacular rotating menu that was always fresh and complimenting of the season. Outside the New York storm seemed to have passed and finally the wet weather had given way to the first rays of afternoon sunshine that cleared away the dreary grayness and picked the colours from the leaves in the garden window.

Winston was delighted to hang back in conversation, watching as his niece and her friends brought a constant smile and a ring of bright laughter to her lips. She looked happy. Happier than she had been in a very long time. And his heart ached for her. He had left New York and stayed on with her in Essex for a long as business would permit during her recovery. What he saw of the young woman disturbed him entirely. In spite of her tan, she grew pale and sickly even after being discharged from the hospital. Her eyes took on a vacant gleam and she spent much of the day and night crying bitterly in his arms. She had become a struggle to feed and only took the smallest amount of food with the highest amount of persuasion until at last he'd returned her to the doctor to have additional medication added to her roster. Something to open up her apatite, for she had lost weight whilst in the coma and was not doing her health any favors by continuing to refuse food.

He'd slept close by in the guest room beside her own in the country manor house. And it was often that he lay, by lamp light, reading into the night and listening out. Bobby would cry into the night, weeping in pain or at the demons that plagued her mind. Often she would wake to screams of nightmares and he would rush back into her room, laying with her whilst she wept and whispered gentle placations in her ear. That she would be alright. That he was there and he would not leave her. That she would grow strong again. That she needed faith and time to heal her. That he was so sorry for her suffering. She'd sleep fitfully in his arms and he would eventually sleep beside her. His heart broken. Terrible things should not happen to good people. But they did. And he ached within, for he was at fault.

When he could no longer stay away from the hotel because business demanded his attention, it was Connie and Nate that returned to Essex and took to living with Bobby permanently adding new life and colour into the old house. They bought books and films and music and study with them. They bought wine and laughter and encouragement that lead the young lady to eat and take to her recovery with vengeance. He was satisfied, she would be well given time. These two dear friends provided more to her than he could. And so Winston withdrew with a promise to come and visit again regularly. To write and call often. That when she was better, he'd arrange to have her visit and stay at his hotel. That Charon would be delighted to see her in person. Charon was so tender, after shifts he would call in and ask for her. Bobby would weep at his kindness, thanking him for his attention that he would wave away. He insisted, they were family now. And he had just as much a vested interest in her recovery as did her Uncle.

What a remarkable difference two years and nine months made to a person.

Now Bobby ate her plates clean happily. She laughed and joked with her friends. Her blue eyes gleaming, her skin and hair lustrous. She'd gained weight again. Her features filled out away from that cadaverous expression she had previously worn. She was on her second glass of wine and was keen to take on cake and coffee much to the cheers of the table. On a few occasions Winston excused himself from the table to take calls and confirm requests from his darker professional patrons. Contracts were opened. Contracts were closed. Names were rubbed off the boards. New names were added. The High Table, as it seemed, were bent on tying off loose ends. And his phone was a constant stream of information that added to the current of order and chaos. He checked in on Charon at the desk who was finally getting a reprieve from the stream of visitors that had attended in the morning.

"Take a break, old friend. Stephanie, take over for Charon, won't you? Have five p.m. hand over competed once your done with next week's reservations."

"Yes, sir. Immediately." Answered the pristinely dressed brunette who was the Concierge's booking assistant. Charon was grateful of the break and thanked his employer graciously.

"Is Bobby well?" He asked after her.

"Oh, splendid!" Winston replied. "Enjoying a long lunch with her friends. Hasn't said a word about her research yet, bless her heart."

"She did say, last night, that she was sorry for a disagreement with you at dinner." Said Charon quietly as the two men made their way through the lobby and back to the dining room.

"I was partly at fault for it. We've made amends now. It's just this talk of the Raven King and he's resurfacing has her obsessed. It seems our associate at the Bowery has some definitive lines of information he's been feeding her. If you don't mind, we'll go pay him a visit later, just before dinner say?"

"Certainly, sir." Charon replied. His features becoming drawn sharply. He'd read all of Bobby's letters and had noted her references to their "mutual friend" with interest.

Now however, the two men returned to the manager's table, the trio of friends were laughing and sharing an amicable exchange but were quick to rise as Winston and Charon approached.

"Charon! Finally! You work far too hard out there!" Bobby exclaimed, rising from her seat and coming forward to hug the dark gentleman tenderly.

"Of course. The weekends are always exceptionally busy."

"Charon will join us on during his break, I trust this is agreeable?" Asked Winston of the table.

Much to the good hearted cheers and calls of "of course" and "by all means".  Nate rose to shake Charon's hand heartily and Connie also rose to press a polite kiss to the elegant gentleman's cheek.

The observant waiters who noted Winton's re-entrance to the dining room with Charon at his side and were quick to set an additional place at the table, taking the Concierge's order for a strong cappuccino and a slice of chocolate torte.

"These desserts are so decadent!" Connie exclaimed, "Are they also made in house?"

"Daily, by our French pâtissie." Charon replied proudly.

"And tell me, Charon, is it some pretty, available blonde girl that's currently looking for a willing suitor?" Nate teased with a twinkle in his eyes.

"He's forty-six, married for eight years and has a two small children, putting him directly out of your range." Charon replied curtly, his lips curling in jest. The table took to laugh as Nate smacked his hand upon it with mock disappointment and a cry of,

"Damn! Bested again!"

Now the table settled with seconds for coffee, tea and sweets, accompanied by Charon's masterful knowledge of city, took to conversing rapidly about all of New York's finest sights and sounds. It seemed the friends were keen on taking Bobby out and away from her expansive research and allowing her the opportunity to simply have fun. Bobby immediately chimed that she wished to visit New York's Public Library for she had heard they had very particular books in the stacks that were available for limited reading sessions that she was absolutely bent on viewing. Nate and Connie both groaned insisting they instead attend an array of vibrant bars and night clubs. Teasing her about finding a boyfriend before spinsterhood set in.

"Connie!" Bobby cried, giggling and blushing profusely.

"Well, it's true, isn't it, Nate? Tell her! I mean, look around you, there are so many charming gentleman in his very hotel. Isn't it true, Winton? I dare say you're conspiring to have only the most elegant men and women stay on. There's not a badly dressed man about."

"She's got a point there, Bobby, I'm starting to feel dreadfully deficient." Nate agreed, sipping at his coffee cup.

"Oh, you're both impossible. See what I have to deal with, gentleman? See how they try to twist and pervert me?" Bobby complained to Charon and Winston whom looked at each other knowingly with deep smiles.

"So go on," Nate pressed, "For the sake of the girls, because none of them will look at me with a yard pole, which of these guests of yours are eligible bachelors?"

The ladies giggled profusely and Winston and Charon set to give each other yet another knowing glance.

"Well, which one takes your fancy?" Winston asked with a raise of his brow, sipping at his coffee cup.

"How about that gentleman over there in the sports coat on table seventeen?" Connie began inclining her head and whispering conspiratorially.

Amused, Charon sought to play the game.

"That is Mr. David Macavoy. He's thirty-six and said to have a sweetheart who works as a dental hygienist and is currently dating her employer. Just as well. Mr. Macavoy keeps a string of causal mistresses as he travels to and from stock broker's offices securing stocks and trades."

This made the table "ooh" and "ahh". Bobby simply rolled her eyes.

"The torn adulterant businessman is not my forte."

"Then what about the fellow leaning on the bar?" Connie laughed raising her brow in his general direction to a smart dressed young man in a tweed coat that had the air of a dandy and was drinking a nip of scotch whilst checking his phone.

"One of our frequent, fly in, fly outs from Italy." Charon explained. "Antonino Borguesso, son of wine importer for Borguesso Limited. He's waiting on his companion as we speak."

Winston chuckled to himself at this admission, shaking his head knowingly. For shortly thereafter, Mr. Borguesso's companion came through the balcony doors at the far end of the dining room, having finished his cigarette and returned to Antonino at the bar. The two men embraced warmly and kissed.

Nate fell into a fit of laughter, reclining back into his chair.

"Rotten luck, Connie, your radar's right broken, love. Give it up!" Connie pouted huffing at her friend whilst Bobby simply rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Her radar's not the only thing that's broken." Bobby admitted.

"Oh, Ha! Ha! Laugh it up why don't you!" Connie returned sarcastically, ignoring the laughs of the table and casting her eyes about the dining room for other prospective suitors.

It was at that moment, just as the clock stuck four in the afternoon that a very particular gentleman wearing a dark Italian suit and tie, his coat unbuttoned, and his long dark hair framing his face; came strolling into the dining room casually. He was tall and classically handsome. His beard and moustache impeccably groomed. He had dark eyes and an easy smile as he nodded to the maître d'hôtel who gladly waved him toward the bar.

More than one of the guests in the dining room looked up from their meals or conversations, fixing the gentleman with polite glances that seemed to boarder on knowing familiarity. Connie could not help but look him up and down and audibly gasp as she elbowed Bobby's ribs and inclined her head in his direction.

"Bobby! Bobby, shut up a minute and look at him."

"Ouch! What? Who?"

"Him, at the bar. Be discreet, it's like the whole room's watching him. God, he's handsome!"

Bobby followed her friend's gaze, for she was caught in conversation with her Uncle and did not see the gentleman arrive. Now however she watched him ease himself with effortless grace against the bar some three stools away from Mr. Borguesso and his lover. He leaned in quietly and ordered a drink of the bar tender who smiled and set to serve him.

Bobby swallowed thickly watching him... And the world... slowed down.

It was as though time it's self was reluctant to move forward. Every moment seemed to hang in suspended animation, dilated in space and time. Hanging like a droplet of water to a flower petal and clinging to the edge... Unwilling to let go.

That ringing in her head cascaded forth once more to the beating of her pulsing heart. Growing in volume so as the sounds of the dining room around her became muted and inconsequential. The clink of silverware against porcelain. The chatter of the guests, the sounds of the staff as they set down plates or spoke instructions to each other in hushed voices.

The air seemed to grow colder, for her skin edged with goose bumps against her arms and across the back of her neck.

It was him.

It was certainly him.

The same gentleman she had met on the stairs last night escorting that beautiful woman in her dark dress and opera gloves.

That face... that was the face of the man on the bridge in her dream.

This ringing in her head... As if she were underwater and all sound was now coming back to surface. She closed her eyes a moment and gently shook her head before asking,

"Uncle... who is that gentleman at the bar?"

Winston followed his niece's line of sight and exchanged a quick glance with Charon. Both men lost their gracious smiles. Winston hesitated to answer but his niece pressed him.

"Uncle Winston? Please, his name at least?"

The tone of the table seemed to grow darker. Now Connie and Nate read the changing vibes and stilled in their seats.

"That... my dear girl... Is Mr. Johnathan Wick. Retired ex-military man for the U.S. Marines once stationed in Hawaii. Widowed, recently, to our great regret. He was once one of The Continental's most exquisite professional retainers. Unfortunately, poor circumstance and bad choices have inadvertently lead him back to my doors. Our professional relationship is rocky, to say the least. I would highly advise against crossing his path. Some men, are best left to their own devices. Mr. Wick is just such a man."

"He's too mature anyway, Bobby, you need the attentions of a younger man." Connie whispered to her friend regretfully. Bobby however, ignored her friend's misguided assumptions and pressed on.

"I saw him last night as I was going up to my rooms. He was escorting a lady with him down the stairs. Who is she, Uncle Winston?"

With a deep sigh, Winston answered, draining his coffee cup first before rejoining,

"That was the Lady Judeth Clayton. Marchioness of Exeter and head of one of England's most powerful families."

"Royalty? Here?" Bobby asked, aghast. Whilst she was no royalist, she could not recall the Clayton family name having such a distinguished title in recent British history.

"My hotel caters to many of rank and title, dear girl. You know this."

Bobby nodded to this admission. Her Uncle had more than once admitted to accommodating traveling Barons or Dukes. Now Bobby wondered how many of these established men and women of title were as corrupt as the governments for which they served. She pressed on,

"They seemed very close to each other. I only met them for a moment before attending the lift."

"Mmmh. Afraid so." Winston replied. "Mr. Wick serves as Lady Clayton's royal consort. Engaged in her personal service, under protection of her family name."

"Consort? Does this mean they're romantically attached?"

"The title implies similar connotations, I would imagine. Yes."

"I see."

"Right out of your league, love," Said Nate apologetically, patting Bobby gently upon her shoulder. The contact seemed to bring her back into the present moment. Connie nudged her knee with her own under the table cloth. A polite reminder to look away for she must have been staring, transfixed.

Even so, all she could think of in that moment was the irrepressible urge to look into his eyes once more.

'Look at me.... Look at me...' Whispered her thoughts.

Mr. Wick however, did not turn to face her. Rather, he settled himself comfortably against the bar, thanking the bartender who served his bourbon over ice. He gave the rest of the dining room his back, as if disinterested in their existence and content to be left alone. Lady Clayton was not at his side. And his gentle terrier was upstairs in the penthouse napping comfortably upon a lounge in the rays of late afternoon sunlight that shone through the balcony windows.

"Bobby? Bobby, are you listening to a word I'm saying?" Asked Connie, leaning forward to take her friend's hand which she fixed with a gentle squeeze.

"Yes...sorry... I was miles away for a moment there. What were we saying?"

"We were saying, we were about to excuse ourselves for the afternoon, my darling. An infinite pleasure as it is to languish with you, business unfortunately needs our attention." Said Winston affably, rising from his seat, Charon at his side.

"It was a delight to see you again, Mr. Savoy, Miss Blakehurst." Said Charon, shaking hands with each of the friends in turn and taking Bobby's hand in his own, smiling at her tenderly before fixing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Thank you for joining us, Charon. Your company has made the day even greater." Now Bobby turned to her Uncle who also said his goodbyes of Connie and Nate and came forward to hug his niece warmly.

"Thank you, Uncle, once more. For everything." She whispered against his ear.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Always." He held her there in his embrace a moment. Breathing in the flowery, fresh scent of her classic perfume. And wanting to give her a stern warning which he held in check, for he saw the way his niece's eyes lingered, unfocused upon Mr. Wick. A gaze for which he did not approve. His heart hammered in his chest in nervous anxiety. If only the timing had been better. If only his niece would not have set eyes on him. But what could he do? Large as the hotel was, he could not sequester a member of The High Table nor her esteemed consort to their rooms indefinitely. And so he pulled away, saying his final goodbyes for the day and inviting the trio to return on his treat for dinner at The Continental that evening. He regretted, he'd not be joining them that night as he had other affairs for which he must attend, but he hoped whole-heartedly that they would enjoy themselves entirely on his account. That hospitality was his greatest pleasure in life and seeing them reunited in good health filled his heart with good cheer.

"Oh, and Charon, before I forget." Said Bobby, as the Manager and Concierge made to walk away.

"Yes?" Asked Charon with a smile, turning to face the young woman once more.

"I don't mean to make a fuss, it's certainly nothing of any pressing importance, only, I couldn't help but notice this morning that my dressing table mirror seems to be broken. There's a large crack that I was sure wasn't there yesterday. Unless it was, and I'm very much mistaken. But I'm concerned with the way the mirror seems to be splintering, that the glass might give way from the frame entirely and smash all over the carpet. Could you, perhaps?"

"Of course." Said Charon, nodding earnestly. "I will arrange to have a pair of servicemen attend your room within the hour and have the mirror replaced while you're out. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, more than anything, thank you. Please, ask them to take care. The glass appears to be cracked strangely, as if it was forced outwards from its backboard. I fear any movement may make it come away badly. I wouldn't want anyone hurt on my account."

"We'll take that into consideration when we tender our report." Winston replied, Charon also nodded in assent. The two gentlemen said the final goodbyes and retreated from the dining room, leaving the trio of friends behind.

No sooner, did they make the grand lobby once more than Winston's gentle smile dissipated into an expression of aggravated tension.

"I want every glass mirror in her room, ornamental or otherwise replaced immediately with iron backed plastic imitation. We're not taking any chances." Winston commanded in a low murmur that only his friend could hear.

"She said the mirror appeared to be forced outwards. I'll go investigate at once."

"And be quick about it! If she's challenging her energies as a conduit seer, then it's only a matter of time before her very presence starts to bring forth occupants whose relations we can do without."

"And Mr. Wick?" Charon asked quietly, his own features tight as he scanned the patrons sitting about the fireplace or attending their friends and family. Winston sighed heavily, taking his phone from his coat pocket and readying to make a call.

"It appears that die has already been cast. We've no choice now than to enter damage control."

"I understand." The Concierge acknowledged.

"When you're done with your inspection, Charon, bring a car round to the front. We're going to pay the Bowery a little visit."

"As you wish, Sir." Charon replied.

Thusly, the two men separated to attend their duties. Their minds clouded in warring concern.

The Continental, it seemed, would not remain the oasis of calm and civility they had hoped to foster indefinitely for much longer.

Within the dining room, Connie and Nate had reseated themselves and sought to chatter vibrantly with suggestions of places the trio might go together that very evening for drinks and entertainment. Bobby however, continued to cast sideways glances at the gentleman at the bar, much to her friends amusement.

"Bobby Kent... Since Mr. Wick's arrival you've been as attentive as a goldfish." Connie teased. "Look at you, you're positively smitten."

"It's not like that at all. It's... the dream I told you about earlier." Bobby replied, waving away her friend's inappropriate suggestion.

"What's this?" Nate questioned, coming close with a raise of his brow.

"Bobby's endless bridge dream seems to have come to the forefront again as of last night." Connie explained.

"There's just something about him. I can't shake the feeling that I've seen him somewhere before."

"And have you?" Nate asked quietly, setting aside his wine glass.

"I... I don't know. I can't be sure. But... In the dream I had last night, I could have sworn... It was his face. For the first time in what seems like forever, the man at the foot of the bridge in the distance had a face I could see clearly and a voice. And I heard it clear as a bell, as clearly as I hear you two speaking with me right now."

"Bobby..." Connie whispered, taking her friend's chin in her fingers and gently redirecting her eyes away from Mr. Wick's turned back.

"Bobby listen to me, darling. What are the chances of you being wrong, hmm? These dreams of yours. They seem to resurface under times of stress. Now, think about it clearly for a moment. You've traveled out of the United Kingdom for the first time in years. You've done nothing but bury yourself in research and the mind has a way of playing tricks on us. Loneliness and longing can-"

"I'm neither lonely, nor longing for anything aside from the answers for which the world around us is too blind to perceive, Constance Blakehurst." Bobby snapped sharply, cutting her friend's conversation off cold. Connie pursed her lips and lowered her eyes.

"I'm telling you, there's a connection that is definitely coming to surface and its closer than anything we've ever known before." She lowered her voice, leaning closer toward the centre of the table.

"I have a feeling, deep intuition, that screams that the Raven King is closer to the physical plane than we have ever known him to be in at last half century. Now, you swore to me, when I set down this path that you would both stand at my side, come what may and you would assist me in bringing to bare the magic for which our mortal nature has long since suppressed from human knowledge. Now, I know, I've been wheelchair bound and out of my mind with madness these past two years, I was there. It happened to me. I've not forgotten. And I'm not likely to anytime soon. But you saw it yourself that day what came out of that mirror when we enacted the Rite of Exquiro."

"We, know Bobby. We all saw it." Nate murmured "And we're as with you today as we were back then. But, the Rite.. it's not reliable, there are too many pieces missing, lost in translation. We may have bungled it, for all we know."

"Our mutual friend, says he has the answers we seek. That I'm to wait here at The Continental until he sends word for my arrival." Bobby returned.

"And when will that be?" Connie asked, her brows furrowed together as she sought to shake the memory of the creature in the mirror away.

"I don't know." Bobby admitted at last. "But what I do know... is that I should take this clear opportunity to make my acquaintance with that gentleman at the bar."

"Wait! Bobby... You heard your Uncle, love. He clearly said that bloke is not someone you want to tangle with. I mean, look around you. These people. Well dressed and finely mannered as they all seem on the surface, they're like hand-grenades. Just waiting for an opportunity to go off at any moment. We don't know what they're capable of. And after what happened to you...." He let the thought trail heavily between them.

"This is consecrated neutral ground, Nate." Bobby replied sagely,  "My Uncle has assured me that the laws that govern the people in this premises are irrefutable mandates. Their very lives might be made forfeit if they so much as consider attending to their business within these walls."

"So what happens when you go outside?" Connie asked, searching her friend's eyes deeply.

"What happens to anyone that goes outside?" Bobby returned. "We leave ourselves to the hands of the Fates. To the Wheel of Karma. To the laws that govern man in ethical and moral code. We cross our 'T's and dot our 'I's and do our best to live out our days without provoking the wrath of the gods and weather the force of nature as only humanity can. Our days have always been numbered and death does not discriminate. It waits. Patiently, at our shoulders with an ever-draining hourglass. Just watching for the right moment."

"Then you are surely familiar, that if ever a gatekeeper to the fates and all their ill temptations ever existed, this very establishment and your Uncle are it. I'd take his word, if I were you." Nate intoned, his smile vanished. His dark eyes flashing in worry.

"But you're not me." Bobby replied, rising to her feet and straightening her dress. "You can't be. So you'll stand by and watch, whilst I go have a conversation with the fates and see where they lead me. Because I swear it to you, I've seen this man before. And I can't pinpoint how or where. But I'm going to find out, with or without you."

Silence fell upon the table as Connie and Nate exchanged tense glances. They both nodded, reluctantly and watched as Bobby Kent excused herself and walked away.

Many of the guests that had partaken of meals earlier had since paid their cheques and excused themselves to other pursuits, leaving the dining room a great deal quieter than it had been but an hour prior. In fact, Mr. Borguesso and his companion had also departed the bar and sought to seat themselves in a quiet corner to take their drinks and talk amongst themselves. This left Mr. Wick as the last remaining attendant seated at the bar, sipping at his drink and idly casting his glance over his mobile phone.

Bobby considered the timing fortuitous, yet realized with every advancing step closer to the dark dressed gentleman, that she was decidedly under-prepared for the conversation she hoped to undertake or the means by which she would establish the exchange. None the less, she had made up her mind in the passing half hour, and turning back now no longer seemed an option.

And so, with a deep breath and a quiet step, Bobby sought to attend the empty stool beside the gentleman, but did not presume to sit down. Instead, with a quiet voice, feeling the eyes of her companions at her back, she sought to engage him in conversation directly.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wick?" She began gently. The dark gentleman set down his glass slowly, turning his attention away from his phone on the bar. He regarded the younger woman with docile, warm eyes.

"Yes?" His voice quiet, deep. He sought her eyes with his own. And the moment seemed to again still the air around her. Heartbeats passed between them until at last Bobby answered in almost a whisper.

"Forgive me... for intruding on your privacy. I don't mean to disturb you, only... I know... This is going to sound completely absurd but, we did meet, briefly last night on the staircase as I was entering the elevator."

"We did." The gentleman replied, quietly once more. His expression unreadable. "And you were wearing quite a beautiful rose coloured evening dress." He continued, turning now in his stool to face the young woman more completely.

The compliment brought a smile to Bobby's lips.

"Thank you, you're too kind, sir. And you were a escorting perhaps one of the most exquisitely beautiful ladies I have ever set eyes on. She really is quite remarkable. I'm sorry I did not get the opportunity to greet you properly then... And you'll forgive my boldness, but... Seeing you again now, I... I can't help but feel as though we've perhaps met somewhere before."

Silence passed between them for long moments as the weight of this admission hung in the air. Bobby searched the gentleman's eyes, ensnared by the way in which the light seemed to be drawn into them, like pools without reflection. The colour of deepest ochre. He seemed to be thinking. Weighing her words for long moments. Grateful of her compliment for his companion. For she was a rare beauty, that much was true.

At last he replied, his tone as measured and quiet as ever.

"No. I'm sorry, I don't think we have." He said. But his eyes... His eyes continued to draw her.

"Are you sure?" She breathed, almost without thinking, she took a step closer. Stepping it seemed, directly into his shadow.

"I never forget a face." He replied. "And I wouldn't forget one such as yours."  

"Would you forget a name?" She pressed.

"No."

To this she nodded, slowly. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

"Then perhaps, I should introduce myself. My name is Bobby Kent. I am... or was... An English cartographer and travel journalist. Up until a few years ago when I was met with an.... accident." She hesitated, swallowing thickly.

"I take a different line of work now. Research, academics mostly. You'll forgive the forwardness of my address, only, I asked my Uncle for your name. Silly as it sounds, I could have sworn we'd met in the recent past. I'm sorry I appear to have been mistaken and disturbed your peace." Here, she put out her hand.

"I'm Winston's niece." She concluded.

The gentleman, with his dark eyes leaned forward very slightly and sought to take the young woman's hand in his own. His grip was warm, firm. And sent a shockwave of energy riveting through her veins and up the length of her spine. The air around them grew cold... still.

"John Wick." The gentleman said.

The mystery unfolds slowly, like a flower unfurling its petals in the night. Who is The Raven King and what dark secrets does Winston and The Continental hide from the world around Bobby and her friends? Mr. Wick has finally been brought to the forefront. And you dare not look away. Be mindful, when you step into the shadow of a damned. Can you hear the beating of a butterfly’s wings?

Join us next week to for the third and final scene in Act Two - Blood of the Raven King.

Write us to have your name tagged in the reader’s list below and never miss a chapter.

Act One || Scene One & Two

Act  One || Scene Three

Act Two || Scene One

{[ @rubydian @lalienna-dementriento @rubydart @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat @cynic-spirit @jardanijovonovichs @overheardatthecontinental @sapphowinter ]}

[rewritingthestars]

Haunting of hillhouse au for andriel???

A/N: I fcking love hill house so this got very fair away from me lol I’ll probably make a full length fic out of this so enjoy!

Neil heaves the last box up the front pouch, setting it heavily in the front hallway of the mansion along with several other large boxes and suitcases. The floors are dusty and the wallpaper is peeled around the edges. The grand stairwell has a broken step and sits under a chandelier that looks like it’s hanging by a thread. The rooms on either side are just visible enough to see the shambles of a house left to decay.

A hand comes to rest on his hip and Neil leans into the familiar embrace as a voice behind him says “It’s a dump.”

Neil smiles and places his hand over Andrew’s.

“It’s perfect.” Neil corrects, and Andrew snorts, wrapping his other arm around Neil.

“Yeah, well, you’re delusional.”

Neil turns to look at him and smirks, “And yet you still married me.”

Andrew opens his mouth to reply when a crash echoes through the walls, followed by a spurt of loud cries. Neil sighs, and rest his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “We should probably see what that was, huh?”

Andrew sighs with him and squeeze Neil before letting go. “Come on, let’s see what those little shits broke.”

“Ten bucks it was Sasha.” Neil says as they walk through the accompanying doors.

Andrew gives him a dry look, “Like I would take that bet.”

—-

Andrew finds it late at night scrolling through ads, like he usually does. Must of the houses they pick to flip are due to Andrew’s habit of insomnia and inability to relax, according to his Neil. It’s called the Raven House,  a mansion of forty rooms, 45,000 square feet, and a price a third of its actual value. Neil thought it was a scam when Andrew first showed it to him but after a few phone calls and a viewing of the property, Neil was right there next to him when he signed.

Despite how quickly Andrew picked the house and how quickly they had purchased it, however, Neil can’t shake a feeling of.. Unease.

The first time Andrew showed Neil the picture Neil said no without knowing any of the details. The word came out without his volition, a primal sense of fear pushing its way to the surface before common sense could give way. It felt stupid after the fact, and felt stupid still, until they saw the house for the first time, and Neil’s gut gave way, the feeling back.

The Raven House. Forty rooms on 45,000 square feet of land. A fortune. A steal. Neil feels his breathing halt when he enters the entrance hall and time stills in between the doorway. As they look through the bedrooms and the guest rooms and the rooms that no longer have titles, Neil feels the eyes of the broken mirrors that are scattered around the place. In a moment of solitude given by Andrew’s desire to see the library and Neil’s sudden desire to stay the hell away from the library, Neil finds himself alone in the kitchen, making notes in his journal on color design and ideas for an updated kitchen spread. A thud. A bang. A knock.

A knock. Three times. Coming from an old, riggity dumbwaiter. Neil stares at it as the knocking increases in frequency, the nearby dishes and stove ware clatter and shake. It’s half past two in the afternoon but the light of day seems to already have faded into dusk. Neil slowly sets his journal on the counter and moves towards the dumbwaiter. The knocking is now so loud Neil can feel the vibrations in his skull, the pounding pushing fear through his bones as he shakingly reaches out to open the gate-

–

“So what changed your mind?” Andrew says later that day, on the drive back home.

“Hm?” Neil says, turning away from the window he’d been mindlessly staring out of.

Andrew  sends him a look. “You fucking hated that house when we got there and then by the end of it you’re practically forcing my hand to sign. So, what changed?”

Neil shrugs, a small smile pushing the corners of his lips up, “It grew on me.”

—-

“Dad! Leo hid my sketchbook again!” Sasha shouts, red locks curling at her shoulders, her fingers curling into claws.

“No I didn’t!” Leo shouts back, shoving his slightly large glasses up his nose.

“You did too, you liar! I found it yesterday under your bed, and the day before it was in your closet! You took it, just admit it and tell where you put it you brat!” Sasha grabs Leo by the shoulders looking as if she’s going to punch him when Andrew picks her up by her armpits and swings her out of reach.

“Hey, Hey!” Andrew yells over Sasha’s complaints. “You do not hit your brother you hear me? Whether he took your stuff or not.”

Sasha kicks her feet at air and continues to struggle while Leo starts to cry, “But-”

“Ok, what’s going on here?” Neil says as he walks into the kitchen, sleep still in his eyes.

“Tell Leo to give me my sketchbook back!” Sasha yells from Andrew’s arms, still wiggling fiercely.

“I didn’t take it, I didn’t!”

Neil rubs his hand over his face and pulls a sobbing Leo to his chest. “Hey, it’s alright bud, you’re ok.” Neil hugs his son and rubs his back while sharing a helpless look with Andrew. “Sasha, please stop trying to kick your dad in the balls, he needs those.” Andrew glares at Neil but Sasha stops her kicking to make a gagging sound, which is at the least progress.

“Now can you two calm down enough to talk this out or do we need to schedule a cuddle pile?”

Both kids groan out simultaneous no’s and Neil grins at their exaggerated horror. “Is that a yes to the cuddle pile?”

The kids groan louder no’s with slowly growing smiles and Neil tickles Leo’s side to make it a full out giggle. “Are you sure? This seems like a cuddle pile situation here, don’t you agree ‘Drew?”

“Definitely a cuddle pile situation,” He says with a straight face, which causes laughing screams of no’s throughout the kitchen.

—-

“What are you doing.” Andrew says with a raised eyebrow as Neil crutches low under Sasha’s bed with a flashlight in hand.

“Trying to find Sasha’s sketchbook. Help me?” Neil mumbles into the carpet.

Andrew sighs and crouches down with him, looking under the small room of space. “You know we should look-”

“No.”

“Neil, come on-”

“He said he didn’t do it, Andrew.”

“He’s said that before, right after we found it under his bed.”

Neil gets up with a frustrated sound and scratches at the back of his head. “He’s never lied to us before this, why start now?”

Andrew sighs and pulls Neil close, letting Neil rest on his shoulder. “We just moved, Neil, it takes some adjustment, takes some time. We of all people should know what constantly moving around does to kids.”

Neil snorts into Andrew’s shoulder and looks up at him through his eyelashes. “We’re gonna have to confront him, huh?”

“Yep.”

“He’s going to cry.”“Probably.”

Neil groans, “Why’d I let you convince me to be a parent? This sucks.”

Andrew kisses the top of his head and rests his hand on Neil’s neck, “Because you’re good at it.”

–

“Well Leo, if I didn’t move it, and dad didn’t move it, then who moved it? There’s only four people in this house son.” Andrew tries to reason with their crying son.

“B-but they’re aren’t!”

“Aren’t what, hunny?” Neil asks.

“Aren’t only four people here!” Leo shouts, and for the first time since they moved in Neil feels a sliver of terror run through his blood before he can shake it off.

“Who else is here then?” Andrew asks.

“The one-eyed man!”

“The one from your dreams?” Neil says.

“He’s not a dream! I saw him, I really saw him! I’m not lying, he’s real! He has one eye a-and holes in his face, and he wants to bother Sasha!”

Neil stays silent as Andrew’s face becomes increasingly bothered. “And why would the one-eyed man want to bother your sister?”

“Because he used to have a sister too, and he misses her.”

—-

“I don’t know ‘Drew.”

“We need to at least consider it Neil.”

“He’s fucking eight, he shouldn’t have to see someone when he’s fucking eight!”

“Hey,” Andrew says pulling Neil closer by his arm, “These dreams are getting out of hand. A therapist could help him. That’s all I want, for him to get whatever help he needs.”

“I know it’s just-” Neil let’s out a frustrated noise, “You know how I feel about therapists.”

“I’m aware.” Andrew says flatly. “But your one bad experience shouldn’t dictate whether Leo gets therapy or not.”

“I know, I-” Neil sighs, “You’re right, you’re always fucking right.”

Andrew smirks, “Oh, what was that?”

Neil rolls his eyes, “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Sorry couldn’t hear you over how smart I am.”

“I take it back, you’re the worst.” Neil says and pulls away, walking away from Andrew’s laughter and only smiling when he’s out of sight.

—-

Neil wakes up with a gasp, a memory of dream faded in the blankness of his mind. The clock ticks past three in the morning and Neil groans, rolling over to find Andrew sound asleep.

It’s usually Andrew who makes past midnight detours but every once in a while Neil’s body tries to one up his husband’s insomnia by keeping him awake past one.

Neil sighs and tries not to make too much noise when he rolls over once more, only to freeze at the light streaming through the bedroom door.

Neil always turns off the lights. He and Andrew have always been light sleepers and sometimes the flicker of fluorescents is enough to rise one of them. Assuming it was one of the kids, Neil slowly rises out of bed and out of the room to find the source, only to stop dead in his tracks when he opens the door.

Music bubbles up and into his ears, a jazzy tune that rings throughout the halls, laughter and voices weaving up the walls. Neil turns around, but the bedroom is gone, replaced with a kitchen, the kitchen, the one that should be downstairs but isn’t. The one that should be in tatters but isn’t.

The wallpaper doesn’t even have a crease in it, and the area is packed of people in uniforms as they flit around the room with silverware and appetizers. Neil dizzily turns back around to a ballroom full of people, all dressed up in gowns and tuxs.

“I’m dreaming.” Neil says dazedly. “I must be.”

“But doesn’t it just feel so real, darling?” A man says from behind him in Japanese, which is strange since Neil doesn’t even know Japanese, and Neil spins around once more. A wealthy looking man in a red and black suit sizes Neil up and shakes his head. “You’re underdressed, love.”

Neil looks down at his pajamas, which consists of Andrew’s sweatshirt and his boxers, and gives the man a flat look in return.

The man just laughs, and as he does the room stops, people still and music fades, only the man remaining mobile.

Dread fills Neil’s stomach, the same dread from the first time seeing Raven House, but then the man touches his wrist and the fear is replaced with dizzying confusion.

The man snaps his fingers and the party restarts. He grins. “Perfect”

Neil looks down to find he’s no longer wearing his pajamas, but an old fashioned gown most likely styled for a woman, and questions his dream’s choice in clothing.

The man bends down and take Neil’s hand, the room disappearing in layers of red as the man kisses Neil’s knuckles.

“Moriyama Ichirou, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” The man says, just before his eyes become black.

[utaopias]

Ephemeral

I wrote this a few months back for a short story assignment. It’s a bit different since it’s written in third person. Inspired by my lovely friend Colle (here’s her twitter!), who wrote a nice little thread that jump-started this scenario. Enjoy!

She exhaled a strong gust of breath upon the dusty books. The musty granules immediately hit her face and irritated her airways, elements of a sneeze tickling her nose. She removed the books from their perch on the mantle and set them at the bottom of the box. Remnants of life still permeated the old house, but everything was still save the gentle breeze that flowed past the thick curtains.

She wiped grime from an old photo film and held it up to the light. Various guests were depicted surrounding a banquet table illuminated under a brass chandelier, the same one that hung in the room beside her.

"Must be the previous owners," she muttered, studying the image further.

She recalled the story her friend had told her of the history of the abandoned home: a spun-out tale about a wealthy family whose son had passed and whose soul continues to haunt the mansion. She had only rolled her eyes at the time, because the last thing she wanted to hear while moving in was a bogus ghost story.

She sighed, lifting white sheets from ancient furniture. Who knew how long it would take to appraise everything in the house. She had a long job ahead of her.

Sunlight greeted her through the open oak door. She had spent all morning hauling items in and out of the house and needed a moment to catch her breath. As she turned to the front door, she jumped seeing a tall man standing in the doorway.

"Good afternoon, madam," he spoke with a deep timbre. She stuttered, wary of his intentions, and he continued. "I have never seen you around before." There was a slight lilt at the end of his speech, indicating curiosity. He walked further into the room, inviting himself in.

She suddenly felt very unnerved by his presence but felt obligated to answer nonetheless. "I'm moving in."

A small smile appeared on his features but there was a hint of disingenuousness, as if he was forcing himself to. She noticed a red rose poking out of the chest pocket of his tweed jacket that was far too stifling to be worn on the summer day. A moment of silence passed, and she became increasingly uneasy.

"W-Why are you here? Who are you?"

"I simply wanted to meet… my new neighbor."

"Oh!" She perked up. "Do you live close by?"

"Yes… I suppose I do."

His words were particular and calculated, the hesitation a byproduct of his concentrated gaze. She grew uncomfortable under his sharp stare and shifted from side to side, unsure of whether or not to throw the unwelcome visitor out of the house.

"Well," he suddenly began again. "You should attend to your duties. I am sure we will meet again, Miss…?"

"______." She immediately regretted blurting out her name.

"Miss ______,” he repeated with a nod of the head. “Farewell for now."

He turned on his heels and left.

"Well good morning, Miss ______."

She nearly spilled her coffee at the sound of his voice. Whipping around, she had a flash of a thought that she ought to grab something to defend herself.

"How did you get in here?!"

"The main door was unlocked."

"So you decided to come into my house?!"

Perhaps that comment was off-putting because she thought she noticed a glint of anger in his eyes, but it was too fleeting to tell.

"Please excuse me. I will make myself known next time." When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I see you have quite the amount of work to do. Would you like my assistance? I have no plans for today.”

“I’m sorry but… I don’t even know you...”

“Oh! Where are my manners? The name is Chanyeol. My sincerest apologies if we got off on the wrong foot earlier. There simply has not been company here in ages and I was attempting to… readapt myself.” He seemed meeker now, as if embarrassed by his previous actions. She was still distrustful of his demeanor, but maybe she just needed time to adjust to her new acquaintance.

“Sure, I guess I could use some help… would you like some coffee?”

He was a strange character, this Chanyeol boy. His perpetually tousled raven locks combined with his naturally serious demeanor gave him the aura of a solemn but youthful boy. He had a quirky way of speaking that was excessively polite, but slightly endearing. She wasn’t sure of how old he was, but he was certainly mature for his age. He would come and visit her for several hours everyday, and although he was generally quiet, it appeared he had something to quip concerning everything in the house. Small remarks here and there such as “The wallpaper is beautiful, is it not? Damask was quite popular at the time,” and “Be careful with the wall phone, the crank is fragile,” were random yet helpful to her, and she was grateful for his assistance relocating items in the house. He must be a real history junkie, she thought.

He became more pleasant as time went on. First impressions weren’t everything, she decided, especially not with the peculiar boy who spoke with a tongue as sophisticated as the tweed and wool coat he sported everyday. Eventually, she had convinced him to drop the formalities of “Miss” and “Madam”—as charming as they were, they made her feel like she was living in the 19th century.

But considering how long that home had been standing, perhaps it was her own piece of the past.

"Do you think this place is haunted?" she asked, looking up at him from the ceramic mug she was wiping.

"Hm? Why do you ask?"

"I've just heard stories about the family that used to live here. Their souls are supposedly stuck in this house, right? I mean, I don’t necessarily believe in it or anything, but that's what I was told."

He paused and thought for a moment. "Supposedly, yes. Surely, you heard about the way in which they passed?"

She furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head no.

"The family that used to live here was called the Parks." As he spoke, he seemed to look past her in deep thought. "They were a small family of four: mother, father, daughter, and son. But when the children were young, their parents were killed in a fire. They suspected it to be arson but the case was never resolved. The children had no immediate family in the area, so they had to fend for themselves." He unconsciously knit his eyebrows. "Although the siblings lived together, they felt like they were on their own. The daughter was the eldest, so she took care of the younger boy, but it was extremely tough on her… and the boy, he was lonely. He would often wander through the forest despite his sister's protests. One night when he was out by himself, he slipped on a rock and fell down into the ravine. His neck cracked instantly and well, that was the end of him. The sister… she later died of grief, I believe…" His fingers played with the edge of the table but abruptly stopped once he snapped out of his reverie.

"Oh my god, that's horrible… how do you know so much about them?"

"My family has lived here for a long time. Stories pass on and history never dies, as you know…”

She put away the dishes and contemplated his statement. “That’s a little nerve-wracking, living here with the thought that a ghost family could be living with me.”

“It is not the entire family. Only the boy.” He cleared his throat. “They say he feels endlessly guilty for neglecting his sister while she tended to the home. He was set to be the heir of the property and it was his responsibility to put it to good use, but his own carelessness and selfish desires prevented him from doing so...” His voice grew quiet and his mind seemed to be lost in space.

“Chanyeol? You okay?” _____ questioned, attempting to break him from his trance.

He straightened up. “Ah! My apologies.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, that is what I was told. Thus, his soul is trapped within the house. But I would not worry. Spirits are not harmful.”

“So you believe in it?”

“Why, of course. You do not?” He was somewhat surprised. She shrugged. “Hm. No matter. I assure you that for as long as you stay under this roof, you will be free from harm. I will make sure of it.”

One afternoon, he had appeared while she was watering the plants on the front porch. The two engaged in small talk about passing times.

“How are you adjusting to life here?” he asked, leaning against the wooden rail.

“It’s beautiful out here. A little quieter than I’m used to, but I’ve met some of the neighbors and they’re nice.”

"Ah, not to intrude, but why did you move here? It is a vast property for only one resident."

"Actually, I wanted to open up a little orphanage here. This house is big enough for one, isn't it? I've always wanted to take care of little kids. With some help, of course. Everyone deserves a home, don't you think?"

After some initial astonishment, he couldn’t help but grin and tilt his head down. "That sounds wonderful. You have a really kind heart."

She laughed softly. "Will you help me then? I’ve already made plans and everything. I hate to ask so much of you, but I haven't stopped thinking about it ever since you told me the story of the boy who lived here."

His expression softened. "I think that if he were alive today, he would really like that. Of course I will help you."

And help her he did. For the next six months, he remained day and night by her side, overseeing the management of her plans. He insisted that she take the reigns on making this a project that was completely hers, and graciously abstained from having his name put under the partnership. Much to his surprise, she chose the name The Park Foundation, dedicated to the two kids who had to raise themselves so long ago—she didn’t think she had ever seen him smile so widely. It took six months from the moment she applied for a contract to the confirmation that it had been approved as an official organization. Days were spent making phone calls, conducting interviews, and meeting with various personnel. Chanyeol claimed to be a tad people-shy so he didn’t personally speak to anyone, but he was of great assistance with helping her stay afloat. Her home was the hub of activity, and on days when she needed a change of scenery, she would always suggest a visit to his home, but he declined for one reason or another.

“It is a mess of place,” he would always say while waving his hands, “Trust me. You would not want to see it.” And she would laugh and dismiss the subject.

Despite accompanying her every step of the way, he was never tired. He showed up bright and early every morning with a smile upon his features, and stayed until the moon was full in the sky. A friend, confidant, and aide all in one, he made sure she stayed on top of her duties while constantly checking up on her health. Although the neighbors were friendly, he was her only close friend for the time being. Only the passing breeze knew how many mornings they spent tending to the garden, how many afternoons they spent around the round table in the kitchen, how many evenings they spent listening to records in the parlor, and how many nights they spent lying on the sofa discussing everything under the universe.

“You are doing so much good for this community, and I hope you know that.”

Her eyes twinkled at the statement and he laughed to himself. The sky was quickly darkening outside, a pale blue evolving into navy.

“It’s getting late,” she observed, gazing out the parlor window. “I think we’re done for today.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes; the lack of rest had been getting to her lately. Sleepless nights and days spent hunched over paperwork had taken a toll on her body. She stretched, laid her head down on the table, and looked over at Chanyeol with a soft smile.

He wore a look of concern. “You should get some rest. Perhaps a day off.”

She hummed. “Maybe. But there’s so much to do. And I honestly wouldn’t have made it this far without you, so thank you.”

He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “No need to thank me. In fact, I should thank you for instilling life into this once deserted home.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute, soaking the other’s presence. A smile tugged at her lips as he absentmindedly brushed his fingers over her delicate hands. They both chuckled and he shook his head before sitting up.

“I will let you retire for the night.” He stood and bowed slightly out of politeness, then turned to leave.

She nodded and waved after him. “Alright,” she responded, “goodbye Chanyeol.”

He paused in his step and turned back. “I do not like goodbyes.” His tone was serious, and she tilted her head in confusion. “We say goodbye all the time, but we never know which is the last. So for today, it is ‘see you tomorrow’.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his words. “See you tomorrow then, Chanyeol. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

He left before he could observe the blush on her cheeks.

Two months later, the chatter of little children had become commonplace within the house. ______’s favorite time of day was mid-afternoon, when the children settled in the playroom and painted with their fingers. There were twelve of them, little bright-eyed and wondrous children of whom she had grown fond of. They clung to her like moths to a lamp, invariably bouncing questions around such as “Miss ______, what’s for lunch?” and “Miss ______, why is the sky blue?”—prompting a chuckle from her. Chanyeol visited nearly every day and the children absolutely adored him, although the staff seemed bewildered when the children would talk to him, and she could never figure out why.

One afternoon after the children’s lesson, they were playing with silver bells gifted to them by the cook. Sharp twinkles rang in the air and the children danced and sang to a tune from the piano. _______ laughed, heart full of joy to see them so elated. Chanyeol came up behind her and joined her in affectionately observing the children.

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” she remarked, glancing at him. When he gave her a slightly puzzled look, she asked, “Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”

A look of understanding dawned on him. “I am afraid it is a bit past my time.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, a little boy by the name of Charlie ran up to her and began pulling at her pant leg.

“Miss ______! Look what I drew!” She bent down eagerly to look at his masterpiece. Painted in the sky was what looked to be a boy with angel wings and a glowing halo.

“That’s cute Charlie! Is it you?”

“No, silly! It’s Chanyeol! Chanyeol’s an angel!” Charlie jumped up and down excitedly, and Chanyeol bent down with a wide smile. “Chanyeol! Chanyeol! This is for you! You’re an angel, right?”

He chuckled. “Not quite.” He patted Charlie on the head and received the art. “Thank you so very much for this drawing. I will always cherish it.” Charlie ran off to play with the other kids, while Chanyeol took a seat on the floor. He took a bell off the carpet and rolled it in his palm before looking back up at ______, who had drawn her attention to some of the girls. She radiated happiness, as if there were no other place she’d rather be. His gaze turned soft as he watched her care for the children with ease. He looked back at the bell in his hand and a slight wistfulness found its way into his expression. Her words echoed in his mind.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

The days always felt warmer when Chanyeol was around, and today was no exception. As ______ sat at the table preparing her lessons, she sensed his presence behind her. She turned around with a smile, but it soon faded when she noticed he was downcast. His expression was pained and he seemed to be fiddling around with the sleeves of his coat.

"What's wrong?" She approached cautiously. It was odd to see him upset. He clasped his hands together and gazed at the floor. "I have to go."

"Go…? Where? When?"

"Today. Now. I have been delaying it for as long as possible but it seems that my time has run out."

"But I don't understand… what's going on?"

"It is best that I do not explain. I am very sorry. But I pray you do not worry after me. I will be gone a very long time." He stepped closer to her, meeting her eyes with a pitiful gaze.

Her heart began to sink rapidly, so that it might collapse at any second. “But- but the children, you can’t just-”

“The children will understand. Charlie especially.”

"… So you're just going to leave? After everything?" Her voice trembled slightly. She couldn't wrap her mind around the situation. Although she had grown accustomed to his vague words, for once they were becoming frustrating.

He swallowed. "For today, it is goodbye. But goodbye is not forever. I promise you that."

After a moment's hesitation, he lifted his hand and brushed her cheek. She felt the faintest of touches and drew in a breath. His caress was light as air, much like the gentle feeling of his lips upon hers, a soft and fleeting kiss of promise. When she opened her eyes, she saw his eyes shone with fondness. A warm smile spread across his lips, and she was so entranced in it that she almost failed to notice he had slipped a gleaming silver bell in her palm.

"If you ever miss me," he began with a smile, "ring for me. I will always be listening."

She looked at him with wide eyes, attempting to absorb his words, but could only nod.

"Farewell my love. You will always have my heart."

With one last look, he turned away and walked out the door.

Several ticks of the grandfather clock echoed in the empty foyer. Once she regained her senses, she hurried to the door and swung it open in an instant, but he was nowhere to be seen. Like the wind, he was gone. She reluctantly shut the door, resting her back against it and observing the hall.

The house was silent. It usually was in the early mornings when all the children were asleep, but it was a different type of silence now. It felt empty, and there was an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, something gleamed under the beam of the skylight. She approached carefully, lifting the all-too-familiar crimson rose set next to a note written in beautiful calligraphy, and an image. My dearest love, Thank you for being my very last goodbye. You have made me infinitely happy, more so than I have been for as long as I can remember. You may not realize it, but I will always protect you. I hope to meet you again in another life. Take care, my darling. Love always, Chanyeol Her hands began to tremble. She lifted the image, an old black and white developed film. She could faintly make out a familiar brunet boy holding a rose, his dark and disheveled locks contrasting against his tweed jacket. Written on the bottom right corner in old ink was what she assumed to be the time stamp. Her breath momentarily hitched in her throat. Park Chanyeol. November 27th, 1892.

[fluffymochi-jiminie-blog]

Late Night Wait (~) Yoongi Fluff

Word count: 951  A/N- For the request for the Yoongi Fluff!!

“Yah! Min Yoongi! What the hell are you doing still in the studio?! It’s 2am!” Jin shouted, scolding the raven-haired producer in the computer chair.

“I’m fixing the beat on our next comeback song, Hoseok touched it and screwed it up.” The rapper said, scribbling on a notepad sitting on his lap.

“And what about your girlfriend? We have a day off today, and instead of being at home, with her, you’re here, still working. Seriously Yoongi, take advantage because she is always waiting, and you’re always here.” Jin said, crossing his arms over his chest and walking out.

“*sigh* he’s right…” Yoongi said to himself, hesitant to stop his work but thinking of his lovely girlfriend waiting for him, you.

“Jagiya, I’m home!!” A voice yelled.

Yoongi.

I ran down the stairs so fast that I skipped over many, almost falling down in the process. I saw him put his backpack down on the chair and smiled once he saw me running to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly, smiling from the scent of him.

“Hello, Beautiful. Why are you still up? I always tell you not to wait for me.” He said, brushing hair away from my face with his fingertips.

“Do I ever listen?” I asked, giving him a goofy facial expression.

“Of course not.” He sighed in defeat.

I felt his hands come up to hold the sides of my face, then his soft lips on mine, to which I reacted quickly to, returning the kiss.

“Mm, I missed you.” He said, parting from me.

“You saw me literally in the morning!” I said, looking at him.

He stuck his tongue out at me and grabbed my hand to take me upstairs. He grabbed a set of clothes on the desk and a towel that I always left for him everyday so he could shower right away when he got home. I sat on the bed and stared at the wallpaper of my phone, a picture of me and Yoongi in the fitting room, with him back-hugging me.

“I like that photo too.” A voice said from the bathroom.

That’s when I realized how long I had been admiring the picture as if I was looking for every detail that was in the photo. I looked up and smiled at him, laughing at his ridiculous sleepwear that had sheep on it.

“Hey stop it!! Jimin gave these to me, I have to wear them.” Yoongi whined, coming over and putting all of his weight on me, causing us to fall back into the mattress.

“Y-Yah!! What are you doing?” I squirmed around, squeaking at the weight on me.

He stayed on top of me for a few minutes before speaking, muffled by the pillow of course.

“Are you sleepy?” He asked.

“No, are you?” I asked, stroking his hair.

“Not at all.” He replied.

“What, how? You practiced all day.” I said in disbelief.

“Yeah, but after a while, you get used to it. Let’s watch a movie together, yeah? I haven’t eaten, and I’m sure some place is still open.” He said, rolling his body off me.

“Of course, I’d love that. I’ll call for food, stay up here and just lay down and pick a movie.” I said, pecking his lips and walking downstairs.

I called a place that I found myself calling a lot, since waiting for Yoongi meant that I liked having food ready for him. The food arrived in about 15 minutes, and I thanked the small teenage girl that brought the food, asking her why she was working so late, and when she told me it was because her mother was in the hospital, I didn’t resist to pay her extra.

“A-Are you sure? This i-is almost $20 e-extra.” She said, shocked.

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it, next time I order, tell me how your mother is doing, yeah? Get off work soon, and sleep well.” I said, patting her head as I watched her smile widely and cutely, thanking me and then going back out to her car.

I closed the door and checked the food inside the bag.

“Well that was quite generous of you.” Yoongi’s voice said behind me.

“I told you to stay upstairs.” I said, walking to the kitchen to grab drinks, handing them to Yoongi.

“I wanted to check on you, and it was cute seeing how kind you were to that girl.” He said, taking the food and drinks from me so I wouldn’t have to carry it.

“If something or someone is in need, and you have the opportunity to help, why not do it if you are able to with no problem?” I said, following him up the stairs.

“You’re right, I am lucky to have such a generous girlfriend.” He said, a gummy smile plastered onto his face as he thought to himself.

We spent the night watching a movie he picked and eating while yelling at the TV whenever someone did something stupid. I didn’t realize I fell asleep until I opened my eyes and the sunlight was peering through the thin, white curtains.

I hopped out of bed when I realized that Yoongi wasn’t next to me. I went out to the living room and looked around before I heard a deep, slightly raspy voice call out.

“Alright lost puppy, I’m right here.” He said, making me look through the doorframe to see him cooking.

“There you are.” I said in relief.

I went up to him and back-hugged him, looking at the food on the stove.

“Thought you would like lunch, since you woke up so late.” He teasingly said.

“Right…I’m sorry.” I said, getting plates out and setting them on the table.

“Don’t be sorry,” He said, smiling. “I was kidding with you, you were tired.”

That’s when I realized, afternoon? Shouldn’t he be at practice?

“Wait. W-Why are you here? It’s the afternoon.” I said, thinking something was going on.

“Oh, I didn’t say? Today is my day off!” He said, laughing at himself.

And that’s all it took to make my heart leap in excitement.

[books-are-my-escape]

Get to know Sam;

AC/DC - What are your favorite bands? Rascal Flatts, Fifth Harmony, Little Mix, Five Seconds of Summer, The Eagles

Aerosmith - What are your favorite songs? Heavy - Delta Goodrem Hole in the World - Eagles Why - Rascal Flatts Broken Home - 5SOS I Believe I Can Fly - R Kelly

Aretha Franklin - Do you have a favorite jazz song? No, I don’t think so? 

Alice Cooper - What is your favorite type of music? Country!

Beach Boys - Have you ever been in a concert? Yes I have been to quite a few!

Black Sabbath - A song that motivates you? Enough - Delta Goodrem

Bob Dylan - Do you know how to play any musical instrument? I sort of played keyboard  but not that well 

Bon Jovi - Your favorite song about love? Terrified - Katharine McPhee

The Beatles - Latest song that made you smile? Million Reasons - Lady Gaga

David Bowie - A song that makes you feel happy? Take Me or Leave Me - RENT

Eric Clapton - Have you ever been in love with a rock artist? No 

Creedence Clearwater Revival - What is your favorite instrument? Piano

Deep Purple - Do you prefer bassists or drummers? Either or, not fussed

The Doors - What is your favorite lyric? And they tell me "girl you're so lucky" "You've got the world in your hands" But you know the world gets so heavy You don't understand And that's heavy

Fleetwood Mac - Female or Male vocalists? Both!

The Grateful Dead - What song are you listening right now? None but I have Million Reasons in my head

Guns n’ Roses - What song describes your emotions right now? Heavy - Delta Goodrem

Heart - Do you know a song that you want at your wedding? Marry your Daughter - Barry McKnight?

Iron Maiden - Do you frequently listen to your songs on shuffle? Yes, always

Jimi Hendrix - A song that represents “your aesthetic” Um, I have no idea

Joan Jett - Who do you think when you listen to your favorite love song? Depends on the song

Janis Joplin - What is your favorite 70s song? Hotel California - Eagles

Journey - Do you have any famous crushes? Delta Goodrem

The Kinks - What is the last single you downloaded? Piece by piece - Kelly Clarkson

Kiss - What is the perfect song to describe your relationship with your boyfriend/girlfriend/crush? Don’t have a crush!

Led Zeppelin - Do you like loud guitar solos? Yes

Lynyrd Skynyrd - Do you like instrumental songs? Sort of

Metallica - A song that you think everybody should listen to? Why - Rascal Flatts

Nirvana - A song that breaks your heart? Just one? Angel - Amanda Perez

Pink Floyd - Name your top three songs in any language. I Believe I Can Fly - R Kelly Heavy - Delta Goodrem Songbird - Fleetwood Mac

Pearl Jam - A song to drive to? 80s Mercedes - Marina Morris

Queen - A song to dance to? Squeeze - Fifth Harmony

Bruce Springsteen - A song that you would sing in a karaoke? Don’t stop believing - Journey

The Rolling Stones - Your favorite album? Delta

U2 - A artist/band you’re proud of? Camila Cabello!

Dusty Springfield - Do you have a favorite soul song? Tears of a clown smokey robinson?

The Supremes - Your favorite girlband? Fifth Harmony

Simon and Garfunkel - Your favorite acoustic song? Four five seconds!

Derek & The Dominos - Do you prefer a cover more than the original song? Sometimes, if its slowed down enough

The Mamas and The Papas - What’s the song that have a harmony so good that makes you want to punch something? anything that Rascal Flatts sings

The Temptations - A song that you liked when you were younger? Genie in a bottle - Christina Aguilera

Cream - A song that you associate with summer? Summer of 69!

The Band - A song that you never get tired of? Don’t Let Go - En Vogue Steve Miller Band - A song that need to be played out loud? How do you get that lonely? - Blaine Larson

Sonny & Cher - A song by an artist with a voice that you love? Bad things - Camila Cabello

Wings - A song that makes you remind of yourself? Write on Me - Fifth Harmony

the adventures of huckleberry finn: do you think kids or their parents are responsible for their beliefs? I think kids are responsible for their beliefs, but parents shape them or at least they try to.

the alchemist: what are your current plans for the future? will you be upset if they don't work out? I want to get a job but I also want to study so i have no idea what i want alice's adventures in wonderland: how do you react to absurd situations? Hmmm I keep my thoughts to myself, depending on situation I’d probably laugh. and then there were none: do you think murderers deserve to die? Yes. artemis fowl: how much do you depend on technology? More than I should beowulf: is it always worthwhile to hear both sides of an argument? Yes, definitely. the canterbury tales: if someone is hypocritical, do you point it out? No, not fond of confrontation cat's cradle: do you think it's better to believe a lie than to live with an unpleasant truth? Not always, I suppose it depends on the truth charlotte's web: what's your favorite art form? Music?  coraline: if you could change your family, what would you change? their lack of self belief the crucible: how heavily do you depend on others when forming opinions?Quite a bit unfortunately, I prefer to know facts and other opinions before making my own, sometimes I can’t always understand facts without having someones opinion explain them?  fahrenheit 451: do you think there's any knowledge that should be kept secret? No, not that I can think of. the fault in our stars: if you could have one conversation before you died, who would you talk to and what would you say? Either my parents or my best friend, just express my love and thoughts and requests. flowers for algernon: how much potential do you think you have? Not a lot 

frankenstein: is it wise for humans to attempt to create life? If thats what they want to do. the giver: talk about a favorite memory I don’t have one. the great gatsby: what would you sacrifice for money? I would work for money harry potter: if you could bring someone back from the dead, would you? if so, who would it be? I wish I could bring back Ana or Diane, so Dianes kids had their mother back, but I dont think Ana would want to come back the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy: what do you think is the meaning of life? To live the hobbit: do you think the average person has the potential to be a hero? Possibly, just may not be the hero everyone wants or thinks they want holes: if someone poor stole from someone rich, who would you sympathize with? Probably the poor howl's moving castle: how quickly do you form opinions about other people? Not too quickly, sometimes I can jump the gun if someone is rude/obnoxious first time I meet them the hunger games: would you kill someone if they planned to kill you? No identical: how clear is your perception of reality? I don’t know, honestly the importance of being earnest: are you flattered or annoyed by gentlemanly behavior? I am not too fond of it inferno: do you think you belong in hell? why or why not? Don’t think i belong in heaven 

jonathan livingston seagull: is perfection a good goal? No, definitely not the joy luck club: describe your family Quiet, reserved jurassic park: do you think it's wrong to use animals as attractions and accessories? Yes the kite runner: if you could, what social issue would you spread awareness about? Homophobia, or abuse les misérables: do you think people should revolt if the government is corrupt? I do, but safely if possible life of pi: if you were stranded, would you be able to take care of yourself? No hahah the lightning thief: what would you be the god/goddess of? Um, goddess of care the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe: if you could start a new life in a new world, would you? Yes lord of the flies: what motivates you best? Friends lord of the rings: is it important to work for the greater good of the world? Not necessarily   of mice and men: would you kill your closest friend to save them from a worse fate? I don’t think I could the perks of being a wallflower: does listening to other people's problems help you or weigh you down? Helps them the phantom of the opera: how much do you judge others on physical appearance? Not much pride and prejudice: are you romantic? With friends I am haha the princess bride: what's your best feature? Hair a raisin in the sun: what is your most important possession? Um, I dont know, books? romeo and juliet: have you ever done anything ridiculous for love? what? Nope  stargirl: do you value uniqueness? I do indeed! the taming of the shrew: would you be willing to be in a relationship with someone who is very dominant? Maybe the tell-tale heart: is there anything you feel guilty about right now? what? I feel guilty about not having a job and not being able to pay mum any rent to kill a mockingbird: do you believe something has value simply because it's beautiful? Yes, but the beauty itself can be valuable twilight: how consistent are your feelings about people close to you? Not very consistent, they change a lot  watership down: do you think your right to life is any greater than an animal's? Not at all, an animals life is the same if not more the westing game: if you died now, what would you want to happen to your possessions? I would give my harry potter books to Karly, Leighton and Lucas, soft toys to leighton, and idk everything else be sold and money to b given to my parents and my godson and nephew! 1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers? Desktop; mix of photos of friends and family, cell phone: Ana and Leighton 2) Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Yes I have :L 3) What was your last text message? Um “Okay!” to Louise  4) What do you see yourself doing in 10 years? Hopefully owning a bookshop 5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be? In bed sleeping 6) What was your coolest Halloween costume? Harry Potter! 7) What was your favorite 90s show? Thats so Raven or Lizzie McGuire 8) Who was your last kiss? Um, Bernie? 9) Have you ever been stood up? No 10) Favorite ice cream flavor? Chocolate 11) Have you been to Las Vegas? Nope 12) Your favorite pair of shoes? My runners 13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other? No 14) What is your favorite fruit? Pears! 15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible? Not really 16) Are you into hookups? Short or long term relationships? Hook ups 17) Do you smoke? If so, what? Yes, cigarettes 18) What do you do to get over your anger? Cry 19) Do you believe in God? No 20) Does the person you're in love with know it? Not in love 21) Favorite position? None 22) What's your horoscope sign? Virgo 23) Your fears? Spiders, the dark, heights, water, not having control 24) How many pets do you have? What kind? One, dog! 25) What never fails to turn you on? Neck kisses 26) Your idea of a perfect first date? Harry Potter marathon in bed! 27) What is something most people don't know about you? I was physically bullied in high school by a boy my age and my teachers asked me if i thought he was flirting.. 28) What makes you feel the happiest? Reading and listening to music! 29) What store do you shop at most often? Whitcoulls 30) How do you feel about oral? Giving and/or receiving? I don’t mind giving because of the response I get  31) Do you believe in karma? Sort of 32) Are you single? Yes 33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize? No, words are 34) Are you a good swimmer? I used to be 35) Coffee or Tea? Neither! 36) Online shopping or shopping in person? Online! 37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age? Older 38) Cats or Dogs? Doggys 39) Are you a competitive person? No 40) Do you believe in aliens? No 41) Do you like dancing? Its fun when drunk haha 42) What kind of music do you listen to? Many kinds! 43) What is your favorite cartoon character? I don’t think I have one 44) Where are you from? New Zealand 45) Eat at home or eat out? Home 46) How much more social are you when you're drunk? Depends what stage of drunk, but usually a lot more social 47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Books 48) Why do you think your followers follow you? I am not sure, but I value them for doing so! 49) How many hours do you sleep at night? My average seems to be 4  50) What worries you most about the future? Losing people 51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends? Not very long 52) Are you happy with yourself? Happier than I used to be but not completely. 53) What do you wish you didn't know? How cruel the world can be 54) What big lesson could people learn from your life? Acceptance 55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be? Arias from PLL 56) What's your favorite Website? tUMBLR AND NETFLIX 57) What's the habit you're proudest of breaking? Self harm and binge drinking 58) What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles? Um Oamaru 59) What's the best bargain you've ever found at a garage sale or thrift store? It wasn’t me that found it but my mum found a Harry Potter lamp shade for $2 60) What do you order when you eat Chinese food? Crystal chicken on rice 61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be? No idea 62) If you had to teach a subject to a class, what would it be? English 63) Favorite kind of chips? Salt and Vinegar 64) Favorite kind of sandwich? Ham Lettuce tomato 65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus? Dictionary 66) Have you ever been stung by a bee? Yes lots of times when I was younger 67) What's your favorite form of exercise? Walking! 68) Are you afraid of heights? Yes 69) What's the most memorable class you've ever taken? Classics 70) What's your favorite breakfast? Don’t like breakfast 71) Do you like guacamole? No 72) Have you ever been in a physical fight? No 73) What/who are you thinking about right now? Karly 74) Do you like cuddling? Mer no 75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? Yes 76) Have you ever experienced one of your biggest fears? No 77) Favorite city you've been to? Christchurch  78) Would you break the law to save a family member? Yes 79) Talk about an embarrassing moment? Somehow in class when I was having a private conversations the class would stop talking when I was saying something embarrassing 80) Are there any causes you strongly believe in? Yes  81) What's the worst injury you've ever had? My neck seems to be the worst 82) Favorite day of the week? Friday 83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded? Yes 84) How do you feel about porn? If it turns you on then fine  85) Which living celebrity would you like to know? Delta Goodrem 86) Who was your hottest ex? Male or female? haha probably Brittney 87) Do you want/have kids? No 88) Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to marry you? Yes but my best friend 89) Do you get easily distracted? Sometimes 90) Ass or titties? Titties 91) What is your favorite word? Weird 92) How do you feel about tattoos? I love them 93) Do you have any pets? Doggy 94) How tall are you? Uhm 5″6 95) How old are you? 23 96) 3 physical features you get complimented on a lot? Hair, smile and eyes 97) Is there anything you're really passionate about? Acceptance 98) Do you have trust issues? Oh yes 99) Do you believe in love at first sight? No, lust 100) What are some words that you live by? Why? Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light 

[rlc19]

Get to Know Me

Originally an ask thing, I’m turning this into a tag. So yeah. Here we go. Also, it’s a pretty decent size, so be prepared for that.

1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers?

A black backdrop on my laptop, and a witchy-looking bookshelf for my cellphone.

2) Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? 

Yes.

3) What was your last text message? 

“Hokay, see you soon!” to my roommate.

4) What do you see yourself doing in 10 years? 

I honestly don’t know. I would like to be a published author who sells reasonably well, but chances are I’ll either have found my way into teaching comparative religions or creative writing, or I’ll still be working for the same coffee shop chain.

5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be? 

Real place? With Buddy.

Fictional place? Beacon Academy

6) What was your coolest Halloween costume?

A dark priest. Pretty generic tbh.

7) What was your favorite 90′s show?

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

8) Who was your last kiss?

I don’t honestly remember.

9) Have you ever been stood up?

No.

10) Favorite ice cream flavor?

Chocolate chip cookie dough.

11) Have you been to Las Vegas?

Yes, and I really want to go back.

12) Your favorite pair of shoes?

My combat boots.

13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other?

This question requires me to have been in a serious committed relationship at some point in my lifetime, so no, I have not.

14) What is your favorite fruit? Lemons.

15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible?

I mean, I aggressively have feelings for Dylan.

16) Are you into hookups? Short or long term relationships?

Not into hookups, and definitely long term relationships.

17) Do you smoke? If so, what?

I do not, no.

18) What do you do to get over your anger?

Watch YouTube videos or a show that I love.

19) Do you believe in God? 

I do believe he exists, but I do not personally believe in him. My faith lies with the Gaulish deities.

20) Does the person you’re in love with know it?

I’m not in love with anyone, so no.

21) Favorite position?

Being horizontal, curled up against my body pillow. I don’t care if that’s not the answer you’re looking for, it’s the answer you’re getting. Moving right along.

22) What’s your horoscope sign?

Tropical Zodiac: I am a Sagittarius sun, Scorpio moon, Sagittarius rising.

Sidereal Zodiac: Ophiuchus. (I don’t know much about the Sidereal Zodiac, tbh).

23) Your fears?

Failure, the future, being stuck in the same job for an extended period without moving forward in my life, dying.

24) How many pets do you have? What kind?

1 asshole cat who I love dearly.

25) What never fails to turn you on?

Heterochromia and pillow-y man bosoms.

26) Your idea of a perfect first date?

I really want to have a picnic in the woods or by a lake on a slightly overcast day that’s like, 65 degrees, with maybe a slight breeze.

27) What is something most people don’t know about you?

The most calming sound to me is that of running water, such as fountains, waterfalls, and waves.

28) What makes you feel the happiest?

Spending time out and about in nature.

29) What store do you shop at most often?

Fry’s Food and Drug.

30) How do you feel about oral? Giving and/or receiving?

Idk bruh? Yeah, I don’t know, this would require experimentation I haven’t as of yet had the opportunity to participate in.

31) Do you believe in karma?

In something like it, yes.

32) Are you single?

Hella single.

33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize?

Candy for apologies, although I’ll never say no to flowers either.

34) Are you a good swimmer?

Decent.

35) Coffee or tea?

Por que no los dos?

36) Online shopping or shopping in person?

For clothes and books, in person. For electronics, online.

37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age?

If I had to pick one, younger.

38) Cats or Dogs?

Again, por que no los dos?

39) Are you a competitive person? Not generally, but I can be.

40) Do you believe in aliens?

Not particularly.

41) Do you like dancing?

Yes.

42) What kind of music do you listen to?

Quite a range of genres, ranging from country, to metal, to Celtic folk, to dubstep, to classical.

43) What is your favorite cartoon character?

Raven from the Teen Titans.

44) Where are you from?

Arizona.

45) Eat at home or eat out?

Eat at home.

46) How much more social are you when you’re drunk?

I’m not, I sleep or get really quiet in the corner.

47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself?

Dinner.

48) Why do you think your followers follow you?

Because they are my friends irl.

49) How many hours do you sleep at night?

On average, 8-9. It’s death, without the commitment.

50) What worries you most about the future?

The fact that I don’t know where I’ll be. I kind of failed at setting goals for myself up until this point, so currently it’s just a gray fog staring bleakly back at me until I figure out what I want to do with my life.

51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends?

Not very long. I’m working on being nicer to myself, but I’m pretty hard on myself and pretty negative, so yeah.

52) Are you happy with yourself?

No, but I’m getting there, it’s something I’m actively working on.

53) What do you wish you didn’t know?

The Ouroboros story by Unsettling Stories. I really can’t do auto-cannibalism.

54) What big lesson could people learn from your life?

Your will to live is like Hope (the Hope trapped at the bottom of Pandora’s Box/Pithos), it cannot be taken from you, you must give it up freely yourself. And no matter what happens, if you trust in your will to live, you can survive.

55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be?

The house from Charmed, I really want that kitchen.

56) What’s your favorite website?

YouTube.

57) What’s the habit you’re proudest of breaking?

Using fiction as an extended escapist retreat from reality. I still do use fiction as an escape, but not in an unhealthy manner like I had been.

58) What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles?

To Phoenix to visit the Misty.

59) What’s the best bargain you’ve ever found at a garage sale or thrift store?

A copy of La Peau de chagrin by  Honoré de Balzac.

60) What do you order when you eat Chinese food?

Sweet and Sour Chicken, or Orange Chicken.

61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be?

Uhm...Maine?

62) If you had to teach a subject to a class, what would it be?

Mythology.

63) Favorite kind of chips?

Ruffles chips with ranch dip.

64) Favorite kind of sandwich?

Reuben.

65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus?

Dictionary.

66) Have you ever been stung by a bee?

Nope.

67) What’s your favorite form of exercise?

Kickboxing.

68) Are you afraid of heights?

Heights? No. Falling? Yes.

69) What’s the most memorable class you’ve ever taken?

Advanced Fiction.

70) What’s your favorite breakfast?

Bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit.

71) Do you like guacamole?

Not particularly.

72) Have you ever been in a physical fight?

Yes.

73) What/who are you thinking about right now?

The fact that Kara Eberle and Jason David Frank are going to be at Phoenix Comicon, which I will be going to.

74) Do you like cuddling?

For the most part, yes.

75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of?

OH YEAH, LIKE DON’T EVEN JOKE WITH ME ON THIS ONE. I mean, yeah, sure, maybe like one thing...

76) Have you ever experienced one of your biggest fears?

No, but I’ve come close. 

77) Favorite city you’ve been to?

Either Munich, a little medieval town in France that I cannot for the life of me remember the name of, or Anaheim.

78) Would you break the law to save a family member?

If it was my brother, sister-in-law, or niece, yes. Otherwise, no.

79) Talk about an embarrassing moment?

I haven’t really done anything SUPER embarrassing, just small stuff, so I don’t really have anything for you here.

80) Are there any causes you strongly believe in?

Equal rights for everyone, and saving plant and animal life.

81) What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

I melted the skin, tendons, and ligaments in my right hand when I was 4. I’m honestly lucky I still have the use of my right hand.

82) Favorite day of the week?

Friday, and not because it’s the last day of the work week. It’s the day when people are excited for the weekend, and it generally just has an overall more positive feel to it than other days of the week.

83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded?

I would say so.

84) How do you feel about porn?

For the most part, I have positive feelings about it.

85) Which living celebrity would you like to know?

So, this is a hard question, and I don’t honestly know 100%, but I’ll say Ricky Martin.

86) Who was your hottest ex?

So, tbh, I don’t think any of my exes were “hot”, they were attractive but not “hot”. But to answer the question, I’ll say Austin.

87) Do you want/have kids?

No thank you.

88) Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to marry you?

Romantically, no.

89) Do you get easily distracted?

Yes, very easily.

90) Ass or titties?

Pillow-y man bosoms, 100%. But I wont’ say no to a nice ass, either.

91) What is your favorite word?

Kerfuffle.

92) How do you feel about tattoos?

I quite enjoy them.

93) Do you have any pets?

Please refer back to question 24.

94) How tall are you?

5′10″

95) How old are you?

22 years old.

96) 3 physical features you get complimented on a lot?

My eyes, my fingernails, the length of my fingers.

97) Is there anything you’re really passionate about? Literature, mythology, and religion.

98) Do you have trust issues?

Somewhat?

99) Do you believe in love at first sight?

No, I believe in lust at first sight.

100) What are some words that you live by? Why?

One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice who you are, and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying.

Because it’s a good reminder to live for yourself, not someone else.

 So yeah, there you go, 100 things to get to know me. I’m going to tag @rogue-one-drinks-coffee​, @fannibalgirl92​, @sassmastercrane​, and @dustychica​, and anyone else who wants to do the thing (but don’t feel like you have to).