#Amity and her beautiful and PIERCING eyes

[de-fright-ful]

AMITY AND WHO?? source meme

[wine-and-fanficideas]

Unfortunately Your Reputation Precedes you

Part 2

Part 1

Dpxdc TW for fic topics include rape, child abuse, abuse, murder

Sam (15) - Danny (15) - Danielle (15) - Jazz (17)

*Story Starts Here*

Danny would be starting his sophomore year with Danielle. The Fenton Portal was destroyed in the explosion, and Vlad actually closed his portal when he wasnt actively using it. He wasnt sure what to expect of a year without ghost attacks, much less attending a private school.

Sam, at least, would be transfering with him. Tucker, unfortunately, couldn't afford the tuition.

Amity Park Private High School was vastly different than Casper High. Uniforms, for one, and a strict expectation of excellence, preparing the students for their future careers before they even picked their college or university.

Danny wasn't surprised by his class list. Bussiness, Management, Engineering, Economics, everything he'd need to be Heir to Vlad's corporate empire.

Dani's list wasnt much better. Dance, Gymnastics, Health & Beauty, it was like she was being prepped to be a trophy wife.

Danny glanced through the list and realized, that probably exactly what was happening.

"Tools," Sam said. "That's all we are to them,"

Sam's list was an odd blend of the 'twins' lists.

"I'm expected to both inherit the company and marry well," Sam waved her crumpled list. "So wifey classes and business classes."

"This is so messed up," Dani groaned.

Danny wanted to be angrier about this, summer had just started and they had two and a half months before school started again, but it was hard to feel anything for any notable length of time.

He couldn't remember the last conversation he had with his parents.

Had it been a fight? Did he tell them he loved them? Did he hug his Mom? Did his Dad squeeze his shoulder? When had it been, their last conversation? If he had known that was the last time he'd ever see them again-

"Which is why I'll have to wash the dye out,"

Danny blinked. "Die?"

"Hair dye," Sam said. "My Dad's blond, and my mother a red head. You really think my hair is naturally black?"

"Your Grandmother could've had black hair,"

"Nope, blonde and ginger are recessive genes. Didn't you read any of the notes on genetics Tucker and I made you last year?"

"...there's a square and the letters match up and that's somehow dna math?"

Sam groaned, half choking on a laugh as she shook her head.

"I'm blonde, Danny. I've been dying my hair black and purple since middle school."

"Why can't you keep doing that?"

"Because AP Private has a strict dress code, including hair dye regulations."

"...is purple your actual eye color?"

" No Danny," Sam said. "Purple is not typically a natural eye color."

"...do you wear contacts?"

"Yep. Did you not know that? Tucker found out years ago."

"Didn't seem important? I don't know I never thought about it."

"Well, I'm blonde," Sam said. "And under my colored prescription contacts, my eyes are grey. I never liked the way I looked, which is why I did all the hair dying and contacts and piercings. I thought, if I was a blank canvas, how would I paint myself? And then I did,"

Days seemed to blend together that summer. It was so weird, living with Vlad. Danny had two cards, one debit and one credit. He knew Vlad was tracking his purchases, but he couldn't sleep in the lifeless room.

He redecorated it, from the ceiling full of stars to the the books on the shelves, he shopped until the cards were declined.

That was also the first time Vlad hit him.

It was different from their fights as Hero and Villain had been.

Before Danny could've fought back, or dodged, or even spat something snarky at the Fruitloop.

But Danny couldn't muster up the desire to dodge right now, much less anything else. Going intangible was more instinct than conscious thought, but Vlad was expecting that.

Danny lay in his room, his face stinging. This wasnt fair. This wasn't right. He rolled over and screamed into a pillow.

[arkhamcalamity]

“💭“ //ohhh imma regret this but hit me

A peek into Amity's memories // Accepting!! @bxrningblack secretly loves my pain i know it but i did accidentally write a novel again. Also, did I shamelessly connect my muses? yes, i'm not sorry. I can put @merciedblood in this mess bc i wanted to

Something was horribly wrong. 

It’s in the silence so still that all that registered was her own panting. After hours of her own yelling and cursing through labor, it shouldn’t be this quiet. It’s haunting. A minute ago, she would have thought herself too exhausted to manage any more noise, but this sickening silence choked up a concerned whine as she tried to push herself up to see. Bad idea, dizziness almost immediately put her back onto the pillows, arguing with the surging adrenaline.

“What’s wrong?” Something was. Faintly, she recalled the good midwife going a few shades paler in the last third of her pushing. Alienor gripping her hand tighter around then too. They knew something was wrong. Why else would Althea take her Beatrix so swiftly to the table? More panicked, Amity pushed back against Alienor’s attempt to keep her lying back on the bed. 

“Let me see her! Why won’t she cry?” And she could hear Alienor talking softly, briefly catching ‘neck’, ‘tangled’ but it’s all mumbled in a thunderous roar of adrenaline and blood in her head.  She had to be okay. She had to be okay. Regardless of how she was made, Amity wanted her. No matter the consequence. ‘Wedlock will have a high price, no matter how it happened,’ Ezekiel's warning echoed faintly, pushed out by the louder wishes. No, no, no, not this price.

“Thea, don’t let her die,” she sobbed into Alienor’s arm. Please, please, please. She can’t bear it if there’s nothing to come out of all this. If it all was for nothing, if there’s nothing for her to cling to in the aftermath of months worth of tears and rage. 

There's a minute, then two; stretching what felt like eons. Just silence in a room of unspoken hopes and prayers; until there was a cough and a piercing screech from the youngest Arkham. If relief could be tangible, it would have drowned them all. 

“There we go,” Althea cooed, swiftly wrapping the baby up to bring over to Amity’s outstretched arms.  "Hello, Beatrix," Amity whispered, almost laughing in relief. Perfect. She’s perfect, beautiful, everything Amity wanted and more. With her own silver light hair and wide eyes, it almost seemed like Beatrix wasn't anything but her mother. Amity let her new daughter suck on the curled knuckle of her pinkie and make happier, gurgling sounds. Alienor chuckled and placed a proud kiss on the top of Amity's head.

And for a couple minutes it's perfect. Exhausted, covered in mess, and perfect. Reality though always did have a way of ruining perfection.

Cleaning up a bit after helping with the afterbirth, Althea nervously bit on her lip.

“Amity,” Althea started softly, “we need to talk about her. You’ve been putting it off, I know you don’t want to b-”  “They can’t have her,” she injected sternly, gripping Beatrix closer to her chest. “She’s mine.”  “You didn’t talk about what happened, and I understand why but they won’t just let all this pass, you have to know that. They��d never just let you and Alienor take her. If she’s a Cobbl-”  “She’s mine!” Anyone’s guess if she was talking about Beatrix or Alienor. “Ezekiel would never let them.”  “The court,” Althea pleaded, trying to get her to see any sort of reason or reality they were facing. “They won’t care Ezekiel is one of them, it’s not enough. If they think she’s like you, like me-”  “No! That’s final! I won’t let them take her, or hurt her. We don’t even know if she’s gifted!” For all they knew, Beatrix was normal! "I'm not marrying off, and I want to keep her. She's. Mine." Ezekiel could get them to see that...

....Right?

[chcrrybcmbs]

love   others   so   radically   ,   they   wonder   why   .

◜    &. ›    𝙳𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁    。

𝗼𝗻𝗲   :   𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤   𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯   .

    full   name:   amity   savannah   carter.   alias:   amy   (   rarely   used   ).   age:   twenty   seven. date   of   birth:   january   seventh. place   of   birth:   kanas   city   ,   missouri.   hometown:   london   ,   england. current   residence:   los   angeles   ,   california.   nationality:   american   -   british. languages   spoken: english.   gender:   cis   woman.   pronouns:   she   /   her.   orientation:   bisexual   ,   biromantic.   relationship   status:   single.   education:   graduated   from   arno   payne   academy   of   performing   arts.   occupation:   professional   latin   and   ballroom   dancer   ,   singer   -   songwriter.

    𝘁𝘄𝗼:   𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺   𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴   .

    ethnicity:   nigerian   ,   german   ,   scottish. financial   status:   upper   class.   father:   anthony   carter.   nationality:   american.   occupation:   retired   pediatrcian   ,   professor   of   medicine.   mother:   cindy   payne   (   formerly   carter   ).   nationality:   british   -   american.   occupation:   dance   company   owner. siblings:   one   older   brother   &   one   younger   sister. pets:   tba. deeper   dive:   click   here.

    𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲:   𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭   &   𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺   𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴   .

    height:   5   foot   10   inches.   weight:   128   pounds.   hair:   naturally   brown   ,   with   long   waves   that   cascade   past   her   shoulders. eyes:   a   chocolate   brown   ,   almost   piercing   cat   eyes.   voice:   a   soothing    tone    not    too    feminine   ,   with   a   subtle   west   london   accent.   traits:   gregarious   ,   quick   -   witted   ,   positive   ,   determined   ,   insecure   ,   resentful   ,   stuck   -   up   ,   opinionated. zodiac:   capricorn. deadly   sin:   envy.   heavenly   virtue:   diligence. character   parallels:   fleur   delacour   (   harry   potter   )   ,   sarah   cameron   (   outer   banks   )   ,   cj   parker (   baywatch   )   ,   caroline   forbes   (   the   vampire   diaries   ). 

◜    &. ›    𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳    。

dancing    was    something    that    was    heavily    cemented    in    the    carter    &    payne    families    .    amity's    paternal    grandmother    was    a    principle    ballerina    for    the    national    ballet    of    canada    while    her    maternal    grandparents    met    when    they    became    ballroom    partners    at    a    young    age    .    they'd    go    on    to    found    their    own    performing    arts    school    in    london    ,    england    arno    payne    academy    of    performing    arts    ,    which    their    children    &    grandchildren    would    attend    . 

    it    was    clear    early    on    ,    anthony    and    cindy    carter    had    drastically    different    takes    on    how    to    raise    children    .    the    first    crack    in    what    was    in    the    beginning    a    beautiful    relationship    .    her    father    had    more    of    a    guiding    approach    ,    wanting    his    children    to    make    their    own    choices    and    learn    from    them    while    cindy    preferred    a    more    hands    on    &    rigid    approach    --    not    leaving    room    for    her    children    to    so    much    as    make    a    mistake    .    from    the    moment    amity    could    walk    ,    much    like    her    siblings    ,    she    was    put    into    dance    .    it    wasn't    a    matter    of    whether    she    enjoyed    it    or    even    had    an    interest    in    dancing    .    her    mother    believed    ,    even    if    it    wasn't    something    she    stuck    with    throughout    life    it    would    instill    a    level    of    discipline    she    wanted    her    children    to    have    .    this    made    it    easy    for    amity    to    seem    like    something    of    a    problem    child    in    her    mother's    eyes    ,    never    wanting    to    go    to    rehearsals    ,    talking    back    to    instructors    .    even    at    a    young    age    ,    she    had    an    overly    opinionated    nature    about    her    and    it    seemed    no    matter    what    her    mother    did    she    couldn't    quick    scrub    that    from    her    middle    child    . 

    at    eight    ,    the    push    back    from    amity    became    too    much    for    her    mother    &    she    sent    her    away    to    england    to    live    with    her    grandparents    and    attend    their    performing    arts    school    .    it    was    the    last    straw    for    her    father    who    ended    up    filing    for    a    divorce    just    a    few    weeks    after    amity    was    sent    away    .    between    being    in    a    new    country    ,    a    new    school    ,    and    the    knowledge    that    her    family    would    never    be    the    same    it    was    alot    of    change    for    her    to    grasp    onto    at    such    a    young    age    and    inevitably    she    clung    to    the    one    thing    that    had    always    been    a    constant    --    dance    .    the    more    she    leaned    into    it    ,    the    clearer    it    became    ,    she    was    by    far    the    best    dancer    her    family    had    produced    .    she    was    only    meant    to    stay    in    london    for    a    few    months    but    she    ended    up    staying    for    ten    years    .    virtually    raised    by    her    grandparents    ,    although    she    spent    nearly    every    weekend    with    her    father    once    he'd    moved    to    london    to    be    closer    to    her    .                      

    amity    went    on    to    collect    a    rather    impressive    resume    in    the    dance    world    ,    winning    nearly    every    competition    she    entered    .    it    was    in    2015    ,    after    meeting    one    of    the    judges    on    dancing    with    the    stars    during    a    competition    that    she    agreed    to    enter    the    show    as    a    pro    .    with    more    eyes    on    her    and    a    camera    on    her    behind    the    scenes    her    personality    really    shined    and    the    public    feel    in    love    with    her    .    she    went    on    a    four    year    stretch    with    the    show    ,    winning    two    of    the    season's    and    cementing    herself    as    one    of    the    more    popular    &    more    creative    pros    .    after    a    lifetime    of    doing    the    same    thing    ,    she    ventured    out    of    her    comfort    zone    and    started    dabbling    in    other    things    :    creating    a    make    up    &    lingerie    line    and    even    singing    .    her    family    likes    to    call    it    the    hollywood    effect    .    in    2019    ,    she    didn't    return    to    the    show    though    ,    instead    focusing    on    her    other    ventures    .    that    didn't    mean    she    was    out    of    public    eye    though    .    it    seemed    like    no    matter    what    she    did    the    public    found    a    way    to    talk    about    it    .    her    relationships    becoming    heavily    documented    ,    songs    she    wrote    dissected    to    attach    them    to    whoever    her    significant    other    was    at    the    time    (    and    she    had    plenty    that    were    public    knowledge    )    .    it    became    so    invasive    that    she    ended    up    moving    back    to    kansas    city    for    a    while    to    simply    get    away    from    all    the    lights    and    cameras    .             

    while    back    home    she    rekindled    her    relationship    with    her    mother    ,    a    relationship    that    was    estranged    from    the    moment    amity    landed    in    london    when    she    was    eight    .    even    taught    at    her    mother's    academy    for    performing    arts    for    a    year    before    she    inevitably    returned    to    los    angeles    and    back    to    the    show    that    in    essence    catapulted    her    into    fame    .    she's    now    been    back    in    los    angeles    for    just    over    two    years    and    has    found    enough    footing    to    deal    with    the    attention    that    comes    with    such    a    lively    city    .    

◜    &. ›    𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂    。

coming soon ... probably .

[cullen-cannons]

The Aptitude Test

Bella's Perspective

The cafeteria is cold. As soon as the weather gets hot whoever runs the school decides that it's time to turn the AirCon on at full blast. I understand why. If it's too hot in the building we have to go home, but sitting here isn't an awesome way to spend my last day of school. 

The Choosing Ceremony will be on the first day of the Summer Holiday, and then we'll spend the summer as initiates in our chosen factions until the autumn when we'll either enter our selected profession (as in Dauntless and Amity), continue schooling (as in Candour and Erudite).

The Abnegation clothes may cover me, but they aren't the warmest, so I'm shivering in silence. The testing has barely begun and my last name starts with S so I know I'll be one of the last to take the aptitude test. As usual, I focus on observing everyone else. 

I see my fellow faction members sitting quietly or giving advice to each other about assignments, always helpful. 

We may be quiet but still, many different colours and textures of noise fill the room.

I see the Amity laughing joyously. Girls sit in circles braiding their long free-hanging hair. (My own bun suddenly feels much tighter, too tight) I see Amity boys playing some sort of game involving wooden tiles with coloured dots.

I see the dauntless. Wild as ever. Their wild hair and piercings are made even more obvious by their jet-black clothes. They play cards, and two girls shove each other nearly off of their seats fighting over who won, yet their eyes are still alight with happiness. Four boys are on the floor doing pushups like we do in Physical Education. Why on earth would he do that voluntarily? No, I must not judge. (It's hard with the Dauntless sometimes though.)

One boy stops, and the others cheer. I see now, it's a competition. Still, others turn cartwheels and flip and hold handstands, even walking on their hands. Their shouts echo all around the room. To be honest they scare me just a little bit. But I have to smile at the sight of people enjoying themselves. (At least some of us are having fun.)

I have a friend in Dauntless. To be honest, I didn't mean to be friends with him, but we met on the first day while waiting in the lunch line and he found out Renee used to know his mother and he's been following me around ever since. I don't mind, he's cute, like the sibling I never had. He's not here today because he's still only 15. It makes me a bit sad, he'll surely choose Dauntless next year and I will never see him again.

The Candour table is loud with a different type of intensity. Groups of children wearing black and white blend together into a grey as they slam their firsts on tables and lean closer together in heated debate. From the outside, it almost seems like a real fight, but then a girl smiles when she convinces her friends that she is right. They laugh about something and continue on.

Then there are the Erudite. Elegant, all wearing something blue. Calm, heads bent over books or wearing faces of concentration as they discuss things I'm sure must be important. (I long to join in, but faction separation rules forbid me to move and as an Abnegation, I wouldn't be welcomed at their table anyway.) I don't focus as much on the whole table but instead quickly scan it. 

I find him at the end of the table farthest from me. His bronze hair is messy as usual, but not unkempt. He wears a blue jumper over a white collared shirt and khakis. Edward. My Edward. He sneaks me a wave and a smile.

We've been dating in secret since we were 14 and I love him far beyond human reason. I can't help but stare at him as he goes back to reading his book. He's beautiful and I'm just me. He always tells me that I'm wrong about myself and that I am indeed beautiful. He's half right, I think. I think that maybe I could be beautiful, but not in Abnegation clothes.

I gasp involuntarily, remembering I'm supposed to be dwelling on other people, not myself. No one can read my thoughts (or not yet at least, Edward says they're working on that kind of technology in Erudite, and I can't help but be intrigued) but still, I must give no indication I've strayed from Abnegation's ideals. Thankfully no one noticed. I sigh in relief, but also out of exhaustion. Of hiding our relationship. Of course, I'm happy to do it, we were open about it Edward would be ostracised by his friends for dating a "stiff".

Mostly I'm tired of hiding the part of me that wants our relationship.

Being with Edward makes me want to think about myself, and it feels good. It makes me want so much, mainly him, but also his world. The clothes. Nothing too showy, just something that isn't smothering and actually fits me right. (Edward tells me that I'd look stunning blue). The food, the knowledge, and freedom (even to just have my hair down) and I'm so, so, so curious, about everything that I feel five years old again.

The thought of the Choosing Ceremony excites me.

---

The cafeteria door opens again and a girl stumbles in. She's wearing a white tee-shirt under a short black dress that sways with her shaky steps. Black and white. Candour. She looks sweaty and pale like she might be sick any minute now.

I want to help her or ask if she's alright but I know that I'm not allowed to go over to the other factions' tables, even though they probably wouldn't mind an Abnegation since we're always trying to help. Despite my worry, I force myself to stay put, but I watch her out of the corner of my eye, ready to bring over the bin if she needs it because it's closer to our table.

Edward gets called into the next group.

---

"Isabella M. Swan" Mrs. Smythe calls my name in the third to last batch of ten. She's from Abnegation too, a volunteer and our next-door neighbour.

I take a deep breath and then follow the other children into the hall. Edward winks at me.

The groups are alphabetised from every 16-year-old in school, so the group consists of a few kids from each faction. Now we are united in nervousness, the rest of our lives stretching out in front of us.

---

When I open my eyes, my proctor, the kind Amity woman, is gone.

Well, I might as well, since no one can see me here.

I stand and cross the room to one of its many mirrored walls. 

In my life, I've probably only had a total of sixty minutes to look in the mirror, when Renee cuts my hair to an appropriate length, trimming the dead ends. Now I stare, but not at myself, at the mirror. I know what I look like, I'm boring and plain with brown eyes, long dark brown hair, and skin that looks too pale due to always being covered. Edward takes photos of me sometimes when we sneak into the library during lunch or assembly. 

What I'm curious about is the mirror. I don't know why, but it's just interesting. I haven't been able to read about them with all my homework from advanced classes and club projects. The glass must be treated somehow, maybe something behind it?

I'll ask Edward 

Whatever the reason, I bet I'm not supposed to just be standing here. And I am curious to see the rest of the simulation. After all, this serum is one of Erudite's crown jewels when it comes to inventions.

I step outside and I'm in the cafeteria again, but like the testing room, it's empty.

"Choose." A voice says it sounds like my mother.

I hate being told what to do, did I mention that?

I stand definitely staring at the two pedestals in front of me. A dagger, and a cheese. I've never seen a stake up close, but I resist the urge to touch it.

"I need more information."

"Choose." All my not-mother's voice says in response, a bit annoyed this time.

"At least tell me why so I can make an informed decision."

"CHOOSE." She bellows.

"Jeez, okay. Give me a second."

Think, Bella, think, calm down and think. A knife and a block of some sort of cheese. If they're making me choose, I doubt this is about cooking (shame, I'm good at that.). 

A knife: that indicates I'll either need to defend myself or attack someone else. I'm not keen on either of those options.

Cheese: that could be used as bait for something, or as food for me. Is this a game of survival?

If I knew what quality of cheese it is that might help. Low quality would likely be used as bait, but higher could indicate that I was supposed to trade it with someone for something.

I'm useless at physical confrontation, so I'd rather have the cheese, but I dislike that I don't get a choice, not really. It's stupid and petty and probably inconveniences the simulation, and I know it, but this is only a simulation, what's the worst that could happen?

"Neither, I choose neither," I announce

"FINE!" my not-mother is clearly angry.

The pedestals disappear along with the knife and cheese.

The cafeteria remains perfectly quiet and still for a moment. Then I hear a growl.��

A wolf the size of a horse appears. I've never heard of this breed before. I didn't think wolves existed anymore. His eyes look so familiar and I can't place why, but there's something about him that keeps me from running. He seems so . . . alive, in the human way. I can't hurt him even as he snarls.

I see now what the cheese would have been for, but I've made my choice.

Wolf or no, it's still a dog. What do I know about dogs? I read a book about them, several actually a few years back when I was compiling data to try and convince Renee to allow us to have one.

Animals in general fear things larger than them, like the old hat-on-a-stick trick people used to use with Ostriches. I have to get low and reduce my surface area so that the wolf could grab me.

Careful with my skirt, I lie down on my stomach. 

"You don't scare me," I tell the large canine.

Dogs see eye contact as a sign of aggression, so I look down to the ground. 

Suddenly my hair is being ruffled. 

The wolf is licking my head. When I look up, it rolls over. 

Careful, I start to rub its stomach.

"See, just a puppy, aren't you."

It yips in response, a happy noise this time.

Suddenly a young boy enters the room. My first thought is that he looks like Edward, even though he has red eyes while Edward's are brilliant green. His mouth is dripping with blood, he holds the knife from before in a loose grip.

It clatters to the floor when he sees the wolf. 

"I'm sorry," he says in a musical voice. He looks like he's crying but no tears come out. "I'm sorry I did something bad."

The wolf crouches, readying to spring.

Suddenly, all I know is that I can't let him be hurt. I don't know why, I just know. I don't care what he did, I'm not even curious, as I usually would be. So what if he did something bad, he's still a child. (Or maybe it's just because he looks like my boyfriend. Did the child in Edwrad's simulation look like me?)

I scramble up, running to the boy, and grab the knife.

The wolf charges. As the knife finds its way into furry flesh, the scene changes.

I'm on the bus now. The whole scene is black and white, like the noir films I watch with Edward when I can sneak away to the library. From the looks of the scenery we pass, we're in a time long ago.

It's empty, save for one man. His face is mostly hidden behind a newspaper. I crane my neck to see the date but I can't, not for the life of me. The article's words ripple and change, only the headline remaining consistent. "Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended." It's ridiculous because there hasn't been a brutal murderer in, well, as long as I can remember.

The man looks up, his face is blurry, and out of focus, like in a dream (because our brains can't create faces). But I can tell he's been burnt and scarred. 

"Do you know this guy?" The man has a growly-like voice with a heavy accent, the kind that people in old Chicago had.

"What? Me?" Obviously me, who else is in this godforsaken bus . . . wait, who's driving? I turn around in alarm to find the bus operating itself. Whatever, the simulation was probably designed to be efficient, not necessarily accurate, and Edward tells me that they improve it every year.

"Yeah, you. Have you seen him?"

I don't know. I shouldn't have. Not in real life, and certainly not in the simulation. But I feel, for some reason, like I have. I try to see the picture, but like the text, it's obscured.

He looks like he knows, somehow, that I recognise the man. I can't lie. I'm horrid at lying. I don't why I feel I should lie, I don't like lying, but it feels almost like if I don't something horrid will happen, which is ridiculous, seeing as this is only a simulation. 

"I'm not sure, could I see his photo better."

He hands me the paper. The picture isn't any clearer, if anything the man's face looks a bit demented.

I'll do what I always do, rely on facts when the truth (a personal, relative thing) fails me.

"I'm still not sure. I feel like I've seen him, but I can't recall when, where, or how. And I don't know his name . . . sorry." I add the apology at the end, hoping to quell him some. I need to get off this bus, every cell of my being tells me so.

"You're lying." he grabs my wrist, and panic rises in me.

Now, I recognise him. Not the man in the newspaper, but the man grabbing me. A few years ago, a Candour man was arrested for raping his girlfriend. This is him, and now he's trying to– 

This is only a simulation, it's not real, not real, not real. I can do anything I want here.

"No, Mr. King, I am not."

"If you know him, you could save me." He grabs me tighter. Okay, now he's just annoying me. I wish I had that knife.

I take a breath to steady myself. I won't waste my anger on this useless garbage of a man. "How? He's in jail, you should be safe from him? I'm just a kid, what could I do? Besides, I don't know him . . . and if I did I wouldn't want to save you anyway."

Suddenly the scene dissolves. I exhale when the feeling of his calloused hands leave my skin. Thank goodness. I'll be showering thrice tonight, I think.

---

When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the room. The Amity woman is there and she looks afraid.

"What's wrong?"

She takes a breath, forcing calm, "There was a slight error with the computer, I'll have to report your results manually."

"Oh, okay, but what did I get?"

"Where do you want to go sweetheart? Do you know? Be honest." She dodges my question.

"What?"

"Just tell me, please." She's a little frazzled.

"Erudite."

"Erudite, interesting." She purses her lips as if my answer made her even more afraid. "I see. Not many Abnegations choose it. It's hard work. Good for you, sweetie." She's lying. I can tell.

"Don't lie. Why are you lying?"

She looks taken aback and breathes deeply again. "Listen here, the test doesn't matter. You've made your choice, you know where you fit. The future belongs to those who know where they belong. You are Erudite now. Do you understand?"

"No?" I do not understand at all. Again, I hate being told what to do, even if her words are reassuring.

"Well, you have to. Tomorrow you go up to that bowl and choose Erudite okay, no hesitation."

Why on Earth is she so instant?

"Did I get Erudite?"

She hesitates, the same thing she just warned me against. "Yes . . . and Abnegation, Amity, Candour, and Dauntless."

"WHAT!?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. You cannot tell anyone, not now, not after you choose, not ever. Do you understand? What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room."

"Yes?"

"It's called . . ." she swallows, as if afraid to speak, "divergence."

"Div-" I start to repeat the word, but she shushes me.

"It means that you have an equal aptitude for every faction."

I start to cry. "I don't belong ANYWHERE?" I always knew I was different, but this . . . being told that there's nowhere I'll ever fit right, just when I thought I'd found a place with Edward . . . I can't take it.

She pats my back and ruffles my hair, "No, no, no dear, you belong EVERYWHERE."

"Does that mean I can't be in Erudite? . . . Do I have to be factionless?"

Just the word makes me freeze. Being factionless, isolation from society, a fate worse than death.

"No. You can be in Erudite, or anywhere else so long as you are completely loyal and never show too much of your aptitude for any other faction. Throw yourself into your studies and work, and assimilate yourself, plenty have done it. I believe in you. Now go, and remember, don't tell anyone."

Obviously. I know that. I don't want to leave, I want to know more, but I know someone else needs the room, so I do.

---

When I get back into the cafeteria the ruckus has died down. Or maybe it's just the ringing in my ears.

People who know they're going to stay in their faction are reassured by their results. They chat happily, secure in their future. I see Edward having a lively discussion with his friend, they point to highlighted portions of their books and make explanatory hand gestures.

People who thought they knew where they belonged but got results that told them differently are confused. Some children from each table sit in nervous deliberation.

People who know they're going to leave their faction, and by extension their family, are anxious. They sit in tense silence. (Not me, as confusing as the Amity woman's reaction was, I can't wait to leave the awkward Rene and Charlie situation behind.)

Where do I belong?

No, I know where I belong. I belong with Edward.

My eyes dart back to the Candour girl. She still looks sick, and she must have thrown up when I was taking my aptitude test because the bin sits next to her.

---

The bell rings and a voice comes over the P.A. system that says we may leave. The Dauntless run off toward the trains. I smile at Edward as he heads with the Erudite and Candour to the shuttles waiting on the street. Much nicer than our buses, these shuttles are like big triple-decker buses with seats for up to 80 people, and they run on solar power. They were designed and built by engineers in Erudite. Even though they do have cars the shuttles are better for big events like this. Only the Erudite and Candour have cars. The Amity ride old-fashioned buses into the city or trucks to make food deliveries. The Dauntless have the trains and the Abnegation just walk most places.

As the Abnegation wait for the Erudite and Candour children to pass us on the stairs, I notice the sickly girl again. She looks worse like she could fall over at any second. I have to help her.

I reach her just in time to stop her from falling.

It takes her a moment to register my presence, "Ugh . . . Jas?" she asks, her voice muffled.

"Oh, no, um, I'm Bella. Are you alright?"

"Nooo," she breathes heavily, "the serum . . . 's making me sick."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Do you want me to take you to the restroom, or the nurse?"

"No, I can't . . . miss my bus."

"Oh, alright, do you want help walking?"

"Yeah . . . that would be . . . helpful."

The girl is at least 20 centimetres shorter than me, and she leans her head against my shoulder. The walk down the stairs is slow and there's only one bus left by the time we get there. Oh no! Thankfully it doesn't seem full.

As we walk closer I notice a tall blond boy. He's walking up to different people and asking them something, looking slightly worried. He wears a black and white striped shirt with a black jacket and black pants. His shoes are all black lace-up sneakers with white stars on the sides. (High tops, is what Edward told me they were called.) A Candour.

He's just a little too old to be one of the kids taking the aptitude test today, but I think I've seen him somewhere before. Is he lost? I wonder if I should help him as well. If he's in Candour he can help this girl. Girl? I shouldn't be so rude, I need to ask her name. I take a moment to observe her, she looks dreadfully faint.

Just as I'm about to ask her her name, somebody interrupts me. "Ali? Ali! " a boy's voice shouts suddenly. I look up to see the blond Candour boy weaving quickly and urgently through the crowd. He's walking towards us, his urgency scares me a little. He's a little scary.

"Gosh, Ali. I've been looking for you. You worry me, you know that. I figured you'd fainted."

The girl, Ali, tries to step closer to him but ends up falling over. He catches her easily as if this is routine. "Don't feel good." she slurs.

"I can tell." His words aren't sarcastic though, but sweet. He pulls a small bag out of his pocket, it holds a single orange pill. "Here, take this. I told you to bring something. But I knew you'd forget." His words are teasing and he shakes his head affectionately as he hands her the pill and a water bottle.

He puts away the water and lifts her easily, bridal style. She must be light, but I can tell he's strong.

She nods and swallows the pill with a drink of water. The boy turns to me. He looks me up and down, an odd look on his face. Then his expression becomes one of gratitude, "Thank you for helping her. I'm glad she was in good hands. Oh, I'm Jasper Hale by the way. And this is my girlfriend Alice."

He extends his hand for me to shake. I do. He has a firm grip.

"It's nice to meet you, Jasper, I'm Bella, and it was no trouble at all."

-

As I walk away I remember where I've seen him before. 

He was in year 10 when I was still in junior high. I saw him around campus a lot. I admired him. He was an Amity, but he always hung out with the Dauntless. He was rough and loud and the darkest of Amity's light-coloured clothes. At first, I thought he was a Dauntless. I didn't admire him because I really liked all that, rough boys have always put me off a bit, but I was jealous, so jealous that he could defy his faction norms so easily.

I always thought he would transfer to Dauntless, but I guess not. I wonder what changed his mind. He's much more subdued now. Though now that I think of it, he was always very blunt, a little mean sometimes, but helpful when it counted. 

Since the Amity farms are so far away, Amity kids don't start school in the city until year six and to prevent unnecessary trips, they board through the school week. I always saw Jasper helping his faction mates with their bags on Friday afternoons. Did he do it out of kindness or obligation?

Brave, blunt, but also kind, and smart too.

Dauntless. Candid. Amicable. Erudite.

The woman who gave my aptitude test said "Throw yourself into your studies and work, assimilate yourself, plenty have done it."

Are there really more people like me? How many are there? How many of them have I met without realising it?

What New Chicago Factions the Cullens Would Be In

A/N: this got long, so it's under the cut.

ALICE: is in Candour. Her whole family has been in Candour for as long as anyone can remember. Her father was not an honest man. He cheated on Alice's mother with a much younger woman and then he and his new girlfriend conspired to force Alice's mother to leave Candour and become factionless, by threatening Alice. They intended to kill Alice's mother after she became factionless.

Because Candour's faction members are so good at detecting lies Alice realised what was going on and reported it to the authorities. Or at least that's what she told them, the truth is she had a vision about it, but was scared of not being believed, or being called crazy. Both Alice's father and his new girlfriend were put into jail after confessing to truth serum.

Because of this Alice doesn't trust easily and values the truth above all else. She stayed in Candour and passed the initiation with flying colours. She can very easily tell if someone is lying. She hates lying and people who lie. Because of this she always says exactly what she's thinking and often comes off as blunt or rude to members of other factions when she has to interact with them.

—

A/N: I chose Candour for Alice because of her pure nature, she kind of always says what she's thinking. EX: "Wow, you do smell good!" (Alice to Bella in the first book/movie.) She does hide things from Edward and the others (but only for their safety) she is generally a truthful person (in my opinion at least)

— — —

BELLA: was born into Abnegation. Rene was a Dauntless who thought she was in love with Charlie, an Abnegation. Rene transferred to start a family with Charlie but regretted it soon after they had Bella. Rene loves Bella but not Charlie. She regrets transferring and marrying him a lot. Seeing him makes her mad at herself for tying her down like that, and slightly resents him. She even sometimes privately wishes she didn't have Bella. 

Bella is more observant than Renee realises though, and she knows and tries her best not to be a burden. It's one of the many reasons she dreams of leaving Abnegation, and also the reason she doubts she'll be able to. Renee, even unconsciously takes advantage of Bella's behaviour thinking it's just Bella's nature, and treats her more like a female best friend than a daughter. Renee is unaware that Bella is just acting that way because she knows how Renee feels.

They all still live together because of the stigma around divorce in Abnegation but Rene and Charlie don't talk and Bella finds the awkwardness stifling. Sometimes she tries to fix things but it never works. Rene has actually considered becoming factionless and Bella always talks her out of it because she needs to know her mother is being taken care of before she can leave.

In order to escape her home situation she throws herself into school, studying during any free time, so she has an excuse to be in her room. She joined all the maths, debate, and science clubs just so she doesn't have to go home. Soon she realised she loved the world of maths and science and wanted to be a Biologist. She often finds she is the only Abnegation in a room full of Erudites but it hardly matters because she loves seeking learning (and Edward Cullen, an Erudite who is also in several of the same clubs).

—

A/N: I don't think I need to explain this choice, but it's basically because of Bella's martyr complex and need to feel useful.

— — —

CARLISLE: is in Erudite. His father was a priest in Abnegation who fell in love with Carlisle's mother at a young age and transferred to her faction, Amity. Carlisle was raised in Amity until he was 16 and transferred to Erudite because of his desire to study medicine.

His father's view that you should put others before yourself and his mother's view that you should be kind to everyone but also make sure that you are happy, worked well together to give Carlisle a good moral character and made him into the thoughtful generous man he is today. 

His mother taught him his desire to help and heal, but he knew he wanted to do more than be a nurse like many in Amity, he wanted to stop suffering at its source.

He loved his parents but he longed to pursue higher knowledge and work in the medical field. He wanted to be a researcher so at the choosing ceremony he chose to transfer to Erudite. Unlike some Erudite members, he still holds high regard for his former faction of Amity and his father's faction of Abnegation, even if he may not wish to live that life anymore.

—

A/N: I picked Carlise to be an Erudite with both an Amity and Abnegation background because I think those three factions best represent his character. His choice to be non-violent and refusal to drink human blood as well as his desire to help others in any way he can and his desire to gain new knowledge.

— — —

EDWARD: is in Erudite. He is Carlisle's adopted son. His mother was one of Carlisle's patients and Carlisle took over his care after her passing.

—

A/N: Again, not much explanation is needed, I think. He has an interest in literature, poetry, music, art, and architecture, all very intellectual things.

— — —

EMMETT: was born into Dauntless, but transferred to Candour after meeting Rosalie at 15. He was in love at first sight and knew she was the one. 

Because Roslaie's family was powerful within the faction, they sheltered her, and Emmett didn't see her for the first few years, despite all his searching they always seemed to miss each other. He was greatly saddened when she announced her relationship with the faction leader's son, Royce King.

While Rosalie was dating Royce, Emmett became friends with Rosalie's adopted brother, Jasper. Neither of them ever liked Royce, even in junior high. Both disapproved of the match but wanted her to be happy. 

It took her a bit to warm up to the idea of marriage after what Royce did to her, but she became friends with Emmett. He was her protector while she recovered and during Royce's trial. A while later, when she turned 18, and Emmet turned 19, they started dating.

— — —

ESME: was born into Dauntless, but transferred to Amity to escape Charles Evonson, the man who wanted to marry her, despite their large age gap. She works as a nurse at the hospital where Carlise works, and the two have something of a secret romance. She's the other reason Carlise volunteers at the Amity farms so often besides visiting his parents. They have to be careful though, given Erudite's policy of Faction before blood, or love. Esme wishes she could transfer, but knows it's far too late at twenty-six, and settles for what she can get.

JACOB: is in Dauntless. He's the 15-year-old son of Rene's old friend from before her transfer, Sarah Wilde, who later married Billy Black before her untimely death from one of the stunts the Dauntless are known for.

Jacob is in love with Bella and follows her around at school. His constant presence was one of the reasons why she wasn't bullied so much before she started hanging out with the Erudite.

Jacob is caught in the middle of complicated Faction dynamics. 

He resents Dauntless for being the "reason" his mother died but loves his friends there. He also loves Bella and wants to join her Abnegation. He doesn't know she plans to transfer to Erudite. He hates the Erudites because many of them are stuck up and treat him like he was dumb in school.

When he finds out Bella's plans for a transfer he doesn't understand and is angry.

JASPER: was born into Amity. He used to have a girlfriend in Dauntless and almost transferred for her, but the day before choosing day, he found out she was only using him. He was secretly glad because as a person sensitive to emotions, the Dauntless had always kind of overwhelmed him, and he sensed something off about the leader's cruelness. To this day he suspects that something not quite right is going on there, but he never engages the subject.

Angry, betrayed, and desperate for control of his own life he took the advice of a friend Peter who was a year older transferred to Candour, and followed him.

He was happy with the farmer's life and understood the value of physical labour, but couldn't stand the faux happiness and wanted something more ambitious. He wanted to study why people and why they do what they do. His parents were bought completely into Amity's bliss and he found it honestly a bit creepy, so he was okay with leaving them.

He chose Candour because he knew he could rely on people, to be honest with him there and because when not blinded by first love, he was always naturally good at telling what people were feeling or when they were lying. 

ROSALIE: is in Candour. She's a year younger than Jasper, and her family allowed Jasper to stay with them after his initiation. 

Jasper warned her to be cautious with Royce, sensing that Royce had some ulterior motive, but Rosalie was too in love with love to see it. 

Jasper, like Emmett, wishes he'd done more, but Rosalie feels like since she should have listened to the boy she considers her brother, it was enough that he was always there for her and spoke against Royce at the trial.

After everything, Rosalie was even more motivated to stay in Candor and learn not to be deceived again. She wants to be a prosecutor.

[redrobin-detective]

The late Daniel Fenton

It was shaping up to be a beautiful if chilly December day and Casper High, as always, was bustling. It was 7:49 and class was about to start. The teacher watched the last few kids stumbling in at various levels of wakefulness. He already knew who would be the ones to rush in after the bell but that was alright. Life was too short to stress about being a few minutes late to class, especially in Amity Park of all places.

He looked up to see Madison, one of his shyer students walk in before making a beeline for his desk. She was biting her lip and nervously rubbing her hand down her skirt. “Hey,” she began quietly.

“Good morning. What’s up, Mads?” He asked casually. She looked upset, he could probably put on a video for the class if she needed to talk. They really needed a permanent counselor but the constant ghost attacks ran off most of them so he’d taken up the unofficial mantle. It felt good to help his students like that, make up for past wrongs.

“Are we um, expecting any new students?” She asked, her eyes darting over to the door she’d just come through. “Any transfers, exchange students or anything like that?”

“No,” the teacher frowned. “Amity isn’t the kind of place people transfer into. Why?”

“There’s a kid in the hallway,” she mumbled. “I don’t recognize him, he’s got a backpack and everything but he’s... I don’t know he doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh you’re talking about that weird dark haired kid,” Kyle said as he entered and sat down with a slouch. But even the class slacker looked unusually tense. “Dude’s creepy, can’t put my finger on why but he definitely doesn’t belong.”

“Oh,” was all the teacher had to say. Suddenly he realized how cold the classroom had become, the uncomfortable feeling that was pressing ever so slightly down on them. “I suppose it makes sense, the ghosts have been quiet lately with the Truce and all. He probably got bored.”

“Sir?” Madison said.

“Shannon,” he said instead, looking over at the frizzy haired girl hunched over her sketchbook furiously at work. “Would you do me a favor and move to the vacant seat in the second row? Just for today.”

“What? Why?” the girl whined even as she gathered up her various arts supplies and got ready to move.

“That’s Mr. Fenton’s seat,” he said taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes in preparation for what he was about to see. Danny would come here, of course he would. This was Lancer’s old classroom and Danny had him for first period English Lit. He and Dash both did.

“Mr. Baxter? What’s going on, is it a ghost?” Malik asked from the back row while Shannon shuffled to her new temporary seat.

“Yes but you don’t need to be scared,” he said softly, evenly. “He won’t hurt you.” The bell rang but Dash didn’t start the lesson. Instead, he waited. Danny had never been on time to class the entire time Dash had known him, of course death wouldn’t change that.

“Sorry, I’m late Mr. Lancer,” Dash gripped his desk so he didn’t jump when Danny Fenton simply appeared in front of his desk instead of walking through the door like any other student. “My folks couldn’t drive me, they’re still working on their stupid ghost portal.” A quick glance over at this class showed varying levels of fear, shock and curiosity but they were Amity kids through and through. The cold, powerful energy radiating off Fenton told them it was best to play along with whatever the ghost wanted.

“Perfectly alright Mr. Fenton,” Dash said softly, searching the 14 year old’s perpetually young face. He hadn’t changed a bit since Dash last saw him their second week of freshman year. It seemed unreal seeing how the years had taken their toll on Casper’s favorite son, Dash Baxter. God had they really been that young once? “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

Danny shrugged and walked over to the seat Shannon had just vacated. He sat just the same, one leg stretched out and the other propped up against the leg of the desk. As soon as he took off the backpack and put it around the chair, it disappeared. He didn’t say anything else, just sat as stared at Dash with piercing blue eyes like he could see right through him.

“We had been talking about the lead up to the Civil War but let’s table that for today,” Dash said, proud his voice only wavered a little. He knew other people had seen Fenton around town. Lina saw him standing outside the Nasty Burger maybe five or so years ago. Dale, who used to live near Fenton Works swore he sometimes saw someone moving through the windows of the long abandoned house. He’d always secretly dreaded the thought of seeing Danny Fenton again, afraid he’d finally get was coming to him.

“Instead, we’re going to talk about local history,” he continued, not daring to take his eyes off the undead teen. Every other living student was tense, afraid. He wished he could assure them that the ghost wouldn’t lay a hand on them. In the event Fenton decided to ditch the hero schtick, it would be Dash and Dash alone he’d come after. “Amity Park has long had rumors of being haunted dating all the way back to the 1600s. It wasn’t until the last century that scientists determined that Amity Park is located on top of a thin spot between our world and the ghost realm. Natural portals form here all the time allowing spirits to pass through.”

No one spoke and barely anyone breathed except for Danny would wasn’t breathing at all. He just sat and stared at Dash with steady, unblinking eyes.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton were the scientists who discovered the weak point in reality in Amity. They devoted their entire life to the study of ghosts and made remarkable advancements in our knowledge of ectobiology and culture, the first being,” he paused as Danny cocked his head in confusion, squinting his eyes suspiciously at Dash. “The first being their manmade portal to the ghost zone. The portal remained active for almost two decades for research purposes but was shut down following their deaths.”

“You’re not Mr. Lancer,” Danny said suddenly, his eyes shifting from baby blue to an ectoplasmic green. Marty, who was sitting to the left of Danny, swallowed a squeak of fear and squeezed his eyes shut.

“No,” Dash sighed, “Lancer died almost thirty years ago now. Best teacher I ever had, he gave me his blessing when he passed on the job to me.”

“I,” the ghost ran his hand through his hair which was starting to lose its color. Seeing Fenton looking so scared and confused made him ache. It reminded him of old times. Dash had spent most of his life making sure he helped hurt kids if only to make up for the one he’d never been able to make it up to. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, Danny,” he soothed. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“The portal, it wasn’t working at first,” Danny justified, his aura glowing a little more. “Sam and Tuck, they were curious. They wanted to look but I told them it wasn’t allowed, Sam, Sam she dared me to go in. I put on the hazmat suit and went inside and found the on button inside. I accidentally hit it and-” he paused midsentence and looked down at his hands. They weren’t pale flesh anymore but covered in white gloves. The black was completely bleached from his hair. A few of the students gasped as they saw the strange would be student melt into Phantom, the ghostly hero who’d been protecting their town since their parents were young. “I died.”

So much time had gone by. People were born and people were buried and the truth became distorted until it was just a legend passed jokingly around cafeteria lunch tables. Amity’s youth had forgotten their town’s history until it was sitting in a desk, trying once more to be one of them.

“You did,” Dash said sadly. He remembered hearing the news of Fenton's death. An assembly had been called the morning after the accident. Lancer had cried at the podium, Manson and Foley hadn’t returned to school for a week and had never been the same again. Dash hadn’t known what to think at the time, only that the kid he’d beat up for the crime of being different would never show up to school again. Or so he’d thought. “It was a tragedy, you were mourned by a lot of people.”

“I know you, don’t I?” Danny said quietly before he sat up straighter. “Dash?”

“In the flesh,” Dash grinned shakily.

“But you’re so old,” Danny said, once more distressed. “Your hair is grey and there’s wrinkles on your face and-and you’re a teacher now?” The last line was said with incredulity, his eyes flaring again. “You used to push me down the stone steps of the school and shove me into my locker and call me names.”

“Yeah, I did,” he sighed, feeling every one of his years. He was pushing 70 but he didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling like a stupid 14 year old who took out his frustrations on the ones who didn’t deserve it. “But you were the last; I never touched another kid again. I’m married now, four kids. I’m vice principal now, teach History and coach the school’s football team. It’s,” his voice caught again, still unable to process how young and stupid Fenton looked sitting there like no time had passed at all. It made Dash feel like all his accomplishments and attempts to be better would never amount to anything so long as his last victim roamed the earth unable to find peace. “It doesn’t fix what I did back then but I make damn sure that there won’t be any bullying at Casper so long as I’m here.”

“Huh,” Danny said, slouching once more in his seat but it looked less like his earlier teenage laziness and more weary. He and Dash were the same age after all, just because only one of them got old doesn’t mean time didn’t still affect them. “You did change, a lot of things did.” Danny looked down at the desk, “how long has it been?”

“Almost 50 years,” Dash sighed. “My wife wants me to retire but I guess I always find more things to do.” He paused then decided it was now or never. “I’m sorry Danny, for hurting you back then. I wish I'd gotten to know you better.”

For just a moment, Danny was perfectly clear. Even half floating out of his chair and looking like the local celebrity, his eyes were so painfully human. A boy killed before he ever got a chance to get started. Who’s will to protect was so strong it lasted half a century. It haunted him late at night to think of the glory and power of Phantom overshadowing just how incredible Danny Fenton had been. Not that anyone had seen it at the time. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left to remember that quiet, kind teenager and then Danny Fenton really would be dead. Kill him just as thoroughly as that portal had.

The moment was broken by a breath of cold leaking out of the ghost’s lips and, just like that, his highschool classmate was gone and Phantom was left in his stead. He looked curiously around the classroom as if he didn’t know how he’d gotten there.

“There’s a ghost, stay here and don’t leave unless the fighting gets too close. I’ll get it though, don’t worry. No kids are dying today.” Maybe it was Dash’s imagination but he thought he saw Phantom’s eyes linger on him for an extra moment, trying to place where he knew the teacher from. Dash just smiled.

“Our lives are in your hands. Good luck, Phantom,” the ghost teen saluted before fading away entirely. Dash let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, suddenly exhausted but also lighter at the same time. It wasn’t every day you got to look your mistakes in the face and apologize. “Shannon, you can move back now.”

“No, I’m okay here,” Shannon said as she flipped to a new page in her sketchbook and looked intently at the spot where Fenton had once sat. “It’s like you said, that’s Danny’s seat.”

“I had no idea, Phantom’s been around for like, ever,” Freddie mumbled, pushing up his glasses. “But he used to be just like us.” And still was, Dash thought sadly. Danny would never grow old, never go to space like he’d always dreamed or marry Manson like he’d probably intended to. He was stuck, in more ways than one for who knows how long.

“Yes, that’s why it’s important to know your history. The Civil War and my other lessons are important but we can’t forget these smaller, more intimate histories. If we lose these lessons to time then we risk repeating the same mistakes over again.” He looked his students in the eyes, holding their attention.

“So we’ll continue today with the local history. Before he was ghost butt kicking superhero, Phantom was Danny Fenton, son of the local ghost hunters and a bit of an outcast in town. The Daniel Fenton Foundation was founded about a year after his death and was-”

[sxnyarostova]

lived by the sea

rose, pearl, and amity's breakdown

Rose has always adored the sea, for it contains a restorative and beautiful quality that she can’t quite put her finger on or describe, but she loves—reveres, even— it all the same. Perhaps it’s because the sea is vast, deep, and reflective, just like the universe around them; perhaps it’s because she’s drawn in by the waves, the rhythmic game of tug-of-war that the moon plays with the water.

She decides that she doesn’t care what the reason is: some things in the world are simply inexplicable, after all (like the blood that she sees sometimes and her fear of the howling wind and the piercing screams that lurk in her head like a wailing ghost and—), so there’s really no need for her to work herself up over the details of her devotion. Somedays, when she’s supposed to be helping Pearl with the salt-gathering they’ve somehow managed to eke a living on, she’ll find herself frolicking in the roiling waves instead, giggling amongst the peaky mountains of foam. 

Her older sister doesn’t quite understand her obsession— Pearl’s far too serious sometimes, Rose thinks— and it frustrates Rose more often than not. Pearl can spin stories out of thin air like nobody’s business, but the line that she draws between reality and fiction is authoritative and definite, so she always stays on the shoreline, watching over Rose’s antics with an affectionately wary gaze. 

(“The ocean scares me,” Pearl had confessed once; it looked as if she was revealing a shameful secret, her brows tightly knit and her lips drawn into a thin line. They were both sitting up in bed, Rose’s head pressed against Pearl’s shoulder.

“But what is there to fear?” Rose asked sleepily, eyes lidded with exhaustion as she unconsciously hugged her teddy bear closer to her chest. Her sister was a confusing puzzle that Rose had yet to solve, someone so familiar and foreign all at once. “It’s just water.”

“Well,” said Pearl. She was quiet for a moment, and when Rose glanced into her sister’s eyes, they were pensive and still and reminiscent of what she hated— and subsequently feared— so much. “I don’t know, Rosie. I don’t know.”

There was something in Pearl’s countenance that told Rose that she did know— Pearl’s left eye always, always twitched whenever she told a lie— but Rose knew that there were things that were best left unsaid; things that deserved to remain hidden in the shadowy folds of a person’s mind.)

“Rose!” Pearl yells, her voice soaring above the crashing waves and cawing seagulls. It’s distinctive, Pearl’s voice; it’s like a fiddle, she realises, in the sense that it’s pitchy and able to carry itself without orchestral backup. “Rose, it’s getting late!” 

“I know!” Rose calls back, and she directs one last longing glance at the water— holy, rehabilitating, and fortune-heralding— before running back towards the shore, towards Pearl, and towards home. 

[nicholasdsutton]

   He fancied, but was not philosopher enough to map the distinction, that they oft spoke with the same distempered breath, that they were goaded and stung into action. A vein of reason ran through Edmund's passions; he was logical, even when fierce. A growing sense of attachment began to present at the thought of being near him; in quite a new light, he may have agreed to stay. After a calm summer, storms were ushering in fall. The wind had taken a new tone - it was piercing, articulate, disconsolation to Nicholas' nerves, a thrill in every gust. "Such a match would benefit all of England, would it not? Your lady mother would sit well beside the Dowager." Lifting his head, Nicholas met Edmund's eyes with an unusual earnestness. "As it should be. I prize her as a best-friend; she brings into my heart a deep delight, a warm and beautiful life, a reality. I wish for you such a bride; perhaps the Parr girl? Only if you are half as athletic if it is to believed; if rumour is to be believed, she shall be chased straight to the alter." 

    Nicholas wanted to compromise with faith - to escape agonies by submitting to a life of piety.  Faith would not sanction this shrinking retreat and cowardly indolence. He was perhaps, not a particularly good man; he was not as amiable as he aspired. But he had his feelings, so strong and concentrated; these feelings had a singular object, to which was dear to him. And what an existence he enjoyed, while he loved. Edmund had strength to fold Nicholas into his arms; he had power to speak his name, and hear him tenderly and fondly. Close proximity strengthened these resolutions, and afforded him an uncommonly fortunate view of the clear amity in Edmund's eyes. "Forgive my cynicism; it's hereditary. But I believe that, has yet to be seen." He continued after a pause, "And again, I plead for your forgiveness; I have never sought to deny you. Certainly not, to deny you me." He could not see reason - he stood with impatience in his pulse, with no doubt echoed in his breast. Nature had afforded him a voice to be always heard; power, when imbued with character and emotion. Yet he scarce sought to challenge to the heights of a whisper - they were stilled for a moment, an experience of a new kind laying before them. "I wish to amend my own prize; I will seek the same from you, but I wish to make a succession of breaths my own - to leave you in want of language, but arrested to the spot, incapable of delivering." 

the quip about william circling his sisters' skirts caught edmund off guard, a faint hint of surprise flashed along his face before it schooled itself back into a far safer look. one that spoke of an easy nature between friends, despite the way he now began to wonder if william had confided in nicholas of a secret he had not divulged with edmund. one that whispered in his ear of a leering childhood friend with power beneath his belt, who may seek to claim now what was once forbidden. his sisters. perhaps nicholas was a better rival than edmund believed him once to be, if he so easily was able to shake his steadfast faith within the bond he possessed with william. yet, the earl refused to fall into such schoolyard taunts, gifting nicholas another far too charming smile. " if our king desired to fall for one of my beloved sisters, it is he who shall be blessed to be graced with such a devoted and faithful wife," a hint of something smug in his eyes before he finished his sentence. " not all men are bestowed such a glory, my lord." it was a childish remark, one that edmund allowed to pass quickly. far more focused on the way in which nicholas indulged him so, granting him the promise of a favor gifted. as if edmund was not a less honorable man, who may wish to claim something unbecoming and torrid. 

the earl dressed to press a step forward, the gap between the pair lessening till it was barely a breath to take without stealing air from the other. his eyes trace the planes of nicholas' face, as if mapping out each feature to commit to his memory, to remember when this moment plagued his dreams as he attempted to rest later. " i promise, dear friend, that i do not wish to ask for something that shall never be mine," he voiced quietly, catching a whiff of nicholas on the breeze - hints of pine and the smoke from the pipe that edmund knew him to smoke, the faintest hint of pippa. but even the reminder of her is not enough to still his tongue from asking for what he truly desired in this moment. " merely, something i believe that i am owed. penance for denying me your company among other things, nicholas," he laughed softly, eyes flickering down to rest on the other lord's lip for the briefest moment before they returned to his eyes. " for my prize, i desire to steal a breath of air from your lips. to steal the very words off the tip of your tongue, if that pleases you."

[ghosttrolls]

the itch

on AO3 and FFN

It started with an itch. Something that scratched away inside him, something that wouldn’t leave him alone. Danny lay in bed, awake, eyes piercing the ceiling. Deep down, his breath felt different. Deep down, he felt like he wasn’t the same.

He remembered the night. He remembered the whooping, the calling. He remembered the wild energy, the destruction. But he couldn’t remember anything else. 

Time never moved. The air was viscous, but too thin, and nothing he did helped him relax. Tossing and turning, Danny worried. Something wasn’t right. He had to go.

Frustrated, sweating, and in a frenzy, Danny suddenly got out of bed. Laying around was a waste of time. He had to leave, he had to get… somewhere. It felt like he’d been lying in bed all night, but it was barely 10:30 PM. As if in a trance, he opened his window and climbed out.

His phone buzzed, but he didn’t care. He walked down the street, down the street. Step, step, step. He didn’t know where he was going, but his legs were taking him there. 

He remembered the red eyes. The loud music. He remembered yelling, yelling ‘stop.’ He remembered that they hadn’t stopped. 

But he’d just stopped walking. He stood at the entrance to the Amity Park graveyard. 

Of course, Danny thought. Death. Suddenly, death seemed like such a beautiful thing. Death and sorrow, the most perfect things in the world. He knew he was delirious. And yet it echoed so deep inside him.

He wandered inside the gates. He was so hungry, but he couldn’t leave. It was almost as if his hunger pulled him here, to the place of death. Of course, that didn’t make sense. He kept walking.

Danny felt a chill. He knew it was harmless, just the effects of being in a place so close to the edge of life. Normal…

He stopped at a gravestone beneath a tree. He remembered the tree. 

As Danny rested underneath, he realized he heard footsteps. He knew whose feet they were. And suddenly he grew even hungrier.

“There you are!” called the voice of his friend Sam. Goth and strong, she had brought them here the other night. It was just a party, just a party. Nothing else. But that was wrong. Something else had happened afterwards. 

Following behind was his other friend, Tucker. They were both out of breath, looking worried. Their skin shone bright in the moonlight. 

“You had us worried!” shouted Tucker. “Your parents said you slept all day, skipped school.”

Danny didn’t remember that. “I did?” he said quietly, carefully, thoughtfully. Less carefully he said, “I don’t remember…” He felt his body growing more tense as he held back. The sweat, the furrowed brow. He tried to stay sitting at the base of the tree. He knew his voice sounded strained, and regretted speaking at all.

“Danny,” stressed Sam, voice urgent. “Your eyes.” Her own were wide, wide like a full moon, though purple like velvet. She wore lenses, Danny thought. He had never asked. Somehow, he could see his face reflected in them. He could see his own red eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, turning away. “You should leave, I think. Right now.” The itch had become a burning. An intense need, something he feared. He knew what it was now. And he hated that it was so hard to ignore. 

It wasn’t safe. Not for them. Not with him.

“Danny, what exactly is going on?” asked Tucker. He stepped forward.

“DON’T,” urged Danny, turning back to face them. Suddenly he was standing once again. “Don’t come closer. I can’t stop it. Not if you do.”

“Stop what??” asked Tucker. He stepped back as he was asked. Danny grimaced, showing his teeth. What could he say?

“Fangs,” said Sam, simply. Quietly, to Tucker. “Those are fangs…” Danny, swooning with guilt, collapsed to sit back on the ground, facing away from them once again. He couldn’t ignore them. He wanted to try anyway.

Sam’s heart beat faster in Danny’s ears as she came to the realization. “Danny,” she said, “You’re a vampire.”

[mxchowind]

Love? Not

Xiao x reader

Warning: angst

You lost him before you knew what the heart desired.

But when you finally figured, you could never have him.

Ah, no, you’ve seen how much she adores him. There was no way you could split a couple apart. 

No, Lumine did not belong in Liyue, then why does it hurt so much? Why- a puppet under the emotions of love, was that who you were all along?

You don’t have an answer. 

When did it start? Faintly recalled, four months ago to be precise. When she first arrived at Liyue, gracing everyone with her charms. Even the stone-cold Adepti was somewhat warm around her- it hurts.

Of course, Xiao would have no interest in a mortal like you, right?

Lumine wasn’t a mortal. She lived for what? Hundreds of years already. Life of yours wouldn’t even last for a week in theirs. Then why does it hurt? You found yourself tracing those very words again and again, unable to settle. He has never made exceptions for anyone, well, now her.

No, it wasn’t jealousy. How could you be jealous of her when she has done everything to help Liyue? You were in no place to talk, let alone even think about that. 

There we go again. You tried to avoid working at Wangshu Inn but duty was called. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Averting your gaze from the top floor, you smiled at the Boss. But she saw through your mask too easily- facades.

‘‘Have you not slept properly, [Y/n]? Your face is pale- Are you here to find Xiao? He’s with Lumine upstairs.’’

Xiao- even more, Lumine.

You found yourself flinching at both names mentioned. 

‘‘No- no. I’m here to report that the duty is done.’’ Laughter could be heard overhead. It hurts. 

‘‘Ah, I see- he’s been spending lots of time with her, ain’t that right?’’

Words were like invisible arrows, piercing your heart. Yes, it is his freedom to spend time with her. Yes, so please, go away.

That was until footsteps were heard. The ever so familiar pair of amber eyes darted on you, only resulted in you hurrying away without a sound. Don’t look, don’t look, no matter how much you missed him. 

He’d like it better with Lumine.

-

‘‘Come on, Xiao! We’re nearly there!’’

The one mentioned only sighed as he followed after your footsteps, wondering where you would lead him. The sun gleamed brightly in the vast sky, it made everything seem so small and insignificant. 

‘‘Ta-da! Isn’t this place beautiful?’’

‘‘Yes. It is.’’

Despite him being a man of few words, the sight in front of his eyes was truly dazzling, whether it was the help of the sun or just naturally beautiful. 

Words caught up against your heart- of course, the real sight wasn’t the field of blossoming flowers that radiant of jade colour, but him. Smiling like an idiot, the warm feeling in your chest fluttered. A gentle breeze pushed your locks of hair backwards, as the light danced in the meadow.

Enlightening to see you bask in the lustre, a tremble in his heart. 

But that was never felt again.

-

Tears won’t stop sliding down from your cheeks.

No matter what, flashbacks haunted you like the very own death of your friendship with him. If you could even call it an amity. Night was cold, and no reminisce could save you. It didn’t matter, right? Perchance, you were the only one caught in such marvellous nightmare. It had been your own stupidity ever since the start.

And the Adeptus wouldn’t even bat an eyelid.

It was all useless, helpless struggles. Daydreams made without realising the troubles. It hurts, of course, but you were more than content to give them your blessings when you heard they were..

Getting married.

-

‘‘[Y/n]!’’

You hummed in return, not knowing who it was to call out all of a sudden, interrupting the established peace. 

Oh, 

Lumine. 

She held your hands tenderly and when they left, you found an invitation. 

‘‘Please do come, it’s Xiao and I’s wedding! As much as he wouldn’t hand this to you personally..’’

All the rest of the words were unheard. 

Wedding?

But he- he was an Adeptus. Never had you once thought he would marry. 

‘‘[Y/n]? Are you okay? You look- exhausted.’’

Haha, yeah, damn the Archons you were. Exhausted from what? The mere hallucination that left you broken? Those memories that no longer served as happiness? Impotent. That was what you were.

‘‘Perhaps I do need a break. Thank you for the invitation, I will attend, of course. Congratulations are saved when that day comes by.’’

That was supposedly enough to satisfy the blonde, seeing as she went away. In all honesty- no, you didn’t want to attend, not one bit. But what good could it do to not to? None. So why were you torturing yourself like this?

Even one last time, you had to tell him.

-

‘‘Xiao.’’

The ravenette turned to find not Lumine, but the ever-so-familiar you. His eyes widened for a split second, but you had seen it. Was it disappointment? You do not know. His eyes- those honey amber like jewels that you wished to take into your own gaze, stared at you with curiosity. 

‘‘I’m leaving Liyue.’’

Now that truly brought shock to him. A mixture of everything, he supposed. Why were you leaving? Questions bombarded his brain. But to keep his demeanour, he hummed and it was a sign for you to go on.

‘‘It hurts to be here, that is all.’’ 

‘‘Who hurt you?’’

Pathetic, the person who had your head clod in drowsiness came back and asked who hurt you, so oblivious that you just want to hold his hands and kiss him right there. Xiao, so helpless. Why does he have to be like this?

You laughed. It was painful.

‘‘It’s about time I should make it clear, shouldn’t I? Even if it is unrequited.’’

‘‘What is?’’

You turned your back to his focused gaze. 

‘‘My love for you.’’

[randomfandomnoms]

Moonlight ll Lumity Story

Her heart ached in her chest, and with every step it felt as if she were being weighed down with more and more lead, which filled her stomach like a frigid nagging hunger. But, she was still forever moving forwards, and never fully satisfied.... The night was cold, the soft wind piercing her like ice. The sky was light, yet its beauty and color could give little to her in the means of comfort, just like every other night, yet especially upon one such as this.

Amity stepped forwards, inching her way through the streets, ignoring passersby as she crept down the dimly lit path. The cobbled walkway paired with the pace of her own two feet left a soft patter in her wake, and she nearly turned as if to face some attacker with which followed her through the shadows, if it had not been for her knowledge that the very sound was emitted by herself. To know what her parents would think if they knew what she’d come out here for…Yet the punishment would have been nothing compared to what she’d endured for the last year. Only now, as she slipped away into the night like a cat lost to the forever murmur and beconings of the trees, she found herself just as willingly letting the night engulf her in all of its wonder, even if her goal was not for freedom, but for something more, something precious and intimate she had longed for, but lost to time.

Eventually, her attention veered from the main path as she trailed her way through the trees, her stride slow, stepping purposefully and carefully. The trail she took had clearly been one that little dared to trek, overrun by weeds and brambles, footsteps long gone and washed away by the summer rains and winter snows. There was only one trail of feet, and when she stepped forwards, her own fit perfectly over those of dust and stone.

A rustle alarmed her, her ear twitching as she turned towards the brush and undergrowth, tensing until the seemingly strangers revealed themselves to be two familiar faces. While her relief was prominent, it was also subtle compared to the immense importance of the task at hand, and she simply turned away as the pair took their places by her side, remaining silent just as she had been. The boy by her side fidgeted with the steel handle of an old worn lantern, handling it carefully as his gaze remained to the ground beneath their feet. Amity pulled her cloak around herself a little tighter, as if it could protect her from any watchful eyes, like it were the only means of a mask to shield her emotions from all those who sought them. Deep down, it still felt like her very soul was being ripped out from deep within her, and mangled by the memories that haunted her. Despite her newly found companionship, the memories still tasted bitter and fresh on her tongue, replaying in her tired mind as if they were that of only yesterday.

They finally came forwards into a small clearing, the space anything but well kept, making the path behind them look cleaner than crystal. The surrounding area, the trees, the ground, all of it was unkempt, with weeds and vines crawling across every surface they came into contact with, whether dead or alive. Amity’s eyes traced forwards, the gentle light of the lantern casting a softly golden hue upon a plack of stone. She felt a shudder run through her, as if she were about to break out into spasms brought by loss and pain. She stifled a sob, feeling a gentle hand come to rest on her cloaked shoulder, yet little comfort came from the warmth of her friend’s touch. She could barely bring herself to let her gaze trace past the words and to the figure that it stood before, and yet while she tried, she could only force herself to stare at two stone feet before she turned away, crying in anguish as she finally let her emotions slip through the cracks. She struggled to choke back the tears she could feel them pressing at her eyes, and Willow’s hesitant hand traced away from her. Reclaiming a grip upon herself, she opened her eyes and accepted the offered hands of the witches, both standing a little ways behind the statue, forcing herself to inch closer to the frozen stone.

The night seemed to fall silent, and the moon beamed down upon them as she could feel strength running through her, cool and refreshing despite her anguish. Their eyes fell shut, yet she could still picture the scene perfectly as if she were watching overhead from upon the moon itself. Soon a soft whisper parted her lips, her ears twitching as she picked up two equally confused, frightened, and determined voices slowly joining hers. What started as a hushed tone grew into a chant that filled the night air, light dancing off of their skin as she felt their shared magic mingle with the moonlight in her veins, urging her to let her voice raise past the treetops into the star speckled sky. She pushed all her sorrow, her pain, and her longing into her voice, pleading to the very moon and sky themselves to give her this moment, even if that was all it ever amounted to. There was too much left unsaid, too much undone, too many regrets for her to ever count, as vast as the sea and as immeasurable as the stars within the darkened sky. Her hope was a flame that no sun could ever dream to match, as was her love. It had grown cold, and saddened, yet it was hers nonetheless, and she refused to let her heart forget it.

It was as if she could sense something of change stirring in the air, and as she felt two hands slip away, she almost reached out for them, longing for something to tether her down as she grappled with her own fear. As she let her eyes flicker open, she trembled before the figure before her.

She watched as light danced across skin turned to stone, watched as the vines shied away wherever the magic spread, and finally, as the connection between the three broke, and the magic was pulled into the cold body, she watched the figure before her sturr. Slowly, steadily, surely, the familiar figure knelt down, pulling herself forwards as she seated herself upon her own pedestal. Amity’s heart fluttered in a miasma of emotion and helplessness, unable to believe the sight before her as she let slip a shuddering gasp, her eyes tracing up to a face she had longed to look into for so, so long.

She gripped the edges of the concrete pedestal, tears stinging her golden gaze and tracing across her pale face as familiar hands slowly reached to her, one tracing her soft lavender hair out of her face, and the other gently caressing her cheek with a smoothened palm. The stone was cold, yet the emotion hidden beneath it was anything but that. She finally broke when her eyes met ones turned gray and solid, yet there was a warmth and a sadness in the gaze that seemed to pull her very heart and soul closer. She let herself sob, burying her face into the girl’s cool stone chest, letting smooth arms wrap around her in a tight yet gentle embrace. She could feel a saddened kiss placed on her head, followed by another. How long she had longed for this touch which she could never find. The hours had seemed endless, but now that it was finally hers, everything seemed to be worth it.

“I missed you lemon drop…” Luz whispered gently into the girl’s ear, her voice soft, and tired as if worn down by the time she’d been stuck standing alone. “I’m so sorry…”

Their love could only be shared for the night, and yet they both knew that no matter what happened, they would both hold onto it as the last piece of light in their lives, until the numbered days came to pass and the night could be theirs to share once more…

Let this be a warning to all the wild witches. Never let go of those you love, and never, never give in to the dark.

AAAAAAAAAAAND THAAAAAAAAAAATS AAAAAAAALL!! WHOO!! Woooow, its been a while since I had the inspiration to write! My heart wanted angst, so I let it have it! This is actually based on a fan comic (linked below~), but I did change a fair amount to keep it from being too similar? Anyways, I hoped you liked it, even though its….really sad… QwQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FP3SkAaCyU

[lilmcttens]

jabbers-wild-world​:

Despite her gentle announcement of her presence, he still jumped a little before looking at her, giving an awkward smile.

“Yeah.. Waffle’s a bit jealous, but that’s not an excuse for her to tell Flapjack what she did.” He gave the blue jay a stern look, quirking an eyebrow at her. He turned his attention to Ghost though too, giving the feline palisman a nod.

“Hey, Ghost. You need anything? Just got a special polish for palistrom, tested it out on Flapjack and Waffle, and they seemed to like it. What about you?”

💜⊱ She chuckled at his jump. Unintentional or no she still caused it. A playful smirk was given to him in return to his awkward smile. It had happened anyway and it was Beautiful! She flatly delivered a response back to him. 

“Wow. Waffle has been jealous since you sat down and carved her does that not make you worried that they might not get along? I would like to think they get along sometimes they are bad at showing it.” She nods her head. “I’m hopeful that’s all it is.” 

“Oh! Did I spook you a little? Would it be hard to believe that I almost planned that? I’m so nice to you Dude.” It was amazing to see how Hunter could understand the palisman in his own way. Perks of being a palisman craver and a Grimwalker she supposed.. Then again even if she did not understand it was still a talent and skill he had that she could still respect. 

*’Eh what are you going to do? No matter what you tell her Lord Sir Pancake she isn’t going to leave you to lie peacefully.’ 

Ghost sat a-top of Amity’s left shoulder. Blue eyes piercing with interest over the polish. She did love the idea of being the shiniest her coat could ever be. Watching the younger palisman squabble over who was more superior made her shake her furry kitty head. Of course, the bond between a witch and their palisman was everything; Waffle was just special in her own right in another way. 

* ‘Hey as long as it’s not full of harmful elements or expired smelly smells that doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea.’

[drabbles-of-writing]

Please gush more about this wings AU thing

aaaAAAAAA sir you’ve opened the floodgates

K so most things are similar to canon? But there’s wings and that’s fun. Luz is just a common lil house sparrow, nothing particularly special about her. Eda, on the other hand, is a whole melting pot. Hybrids between different species are a thing, but the thing is, the hybrid traits show up in color and mannerisms of said bird. Wing shape sticks to only one specific species. Eda got the owl gene, but has a mess of other birds in her, too. She’s got raven (shiny things), cardinal, scarlet tanager, vulture, probably goose, and many others. Lilith was given the raven wing shape, which added to the reason on why she dyed her hair, so she can at least look like a pureblood.

Willow was pretty easy, hummingbirds fit her Aesthetic. But she’s also Buff, and I thought it’d be funny if she was a giant hummingbird, since those bad boys are, as far as I know, bigger than house sparrows. Gus was a little more difficult. I wanted a small bird, but I didn’t know which. Then I looked up the white-breasted nuthatch and found that 1. they are very loud. 2. they will fight bigger birds. So obviously I had to go with that. Gus is babey but he is loud and he will fight. probably a bit of a mix with chickadee or finch in there somewhere, too. A fast bird just seemed to fit Amity. But I wanted a fast but dainty-ish bird, not like a hawk or eagle. She was almost a gyrfalcon, but mutuals thought an american kestrel would fit her better. They are tiny, they are fast, and they are babey. Mattholomule was obvious. Shrikes are assholes. That’s just how it is. Boscha gave off the vibe of a bird of prey who would destroy me. But parrots could also bite my face off without blinking so I went with pretty and deadly. Lovebirds have a color similar to Boscha and also her being a bird with that name was funny so I chose it. Skara as a songbird was obvious, she’s in the bard track after all. So a nightingale was inevitable. Simple feathers, but with a beautiful voice. Viney,,,,,,honestly I just thought of birds that hang around other animals and came up with Oxpecker. She’s also probably a bit of a melting pot with dove, egret, and a couple different starlings. Jerbo is tall. Secretary birds are tall. Enough said. Belos was almost a bearded vulture, but I decided against it. I decided “let’s give him the biggest wings imaginable. simply because I can” so I chose the wandering albatross, the bird with a wingspan of twelve feet. Yeah, they’re thin, but these guys can also fly for a really long time, and idk, I thought the threat of that looked interesting.

In this AU, the rich don’t really,,,,fly. Flying, in the high-class, is seen as too much work. People who don’t fly are seen as powerful because they have better things to do, or they simply have no need for it. This has led to a couple of high-folk simply,,,,,not knowing how to fly. Also a lot of wing muscle issues. The twins can fly, not well, but they can fly. Amity, on the other hand.....can’t. At all. Of course, nobody else knows this. Choosing not to fly is one thing, but not knowing how is a disgrace. 

Luz is a different story. She uses her wings all the time, which helps strengthen them. It’s not just because she flies often, but because she is constantly moving them. She uses them as extra hands to push and pull things, she flaps them excitedly and hovers an inch or two off the ground when excited, she hangs them when she’s tired or sad, she flares them when she’s mad, and she just moves them around when she talks or is showing off something. She simply cannot hold them still. Which is fine for her, since sparrow wings are small and thin, but for Eda, who also moves her wings a lot, it’s a hassle. It’s a common occurrence for something to fall over in the Owl House because neither of these two can hold still.

Also, they have more than just wings. That’s some weak shit right there. They’ve got tails, patches of feathers, can make chirps similar to their species, if their species has crests of feathers or a certain piece of feather(s) that stands out, it shows up. Along with dots of color if it stands out. Peacocks have those three frills on their heads plus faint whites around their eyes, turkeys have those dangly things I’m too lazy to look up the name of, and sometimes the size of the bird affects a person's height. The whole sha bam. It’s hell for Eda, who’s a blend of at least 5 different birds. What surprise will today bring? Who knows!

There’s also of course, accessories and fashion for wings. Jewelry, ribbons, scarves and silk that can be pinned or pierced on wings and sometimes tails. Of course, the rich have the most lavish, but the prettier ones are usually very heavy and weigh down flight near completely. And trying to fly with ribbons or silk around wings is difficult, and can tangle and cause birds to crash. In fact, some types of silk or techniques for fashioning wings are banned or heavily mandated due to the hazards and accidents that occur. Fake feathers are also a thing, usually for those who want their wings to look more grand, hide knives in their wings, or, recently, to hide clipped wings. Binding wings are also a thing, though they are typically only for prisoners or for people with such big/broken wings that they can’t keep them closed properly. These are usually covers that wrap around the entire abdomen to keep the wings shut, but for people who don’t want others to know they need them binded, there are thin strings that stretch across the backs of wings that hold them shut or up at a certain angle. Some people put painful pricks right underneath their scapulars to keep their wings at a regal posture. There are also piercings. Some are rings, some are simply nubs. A common piercing is to piercing the base and tip of the membrane and hang a thin chain between the two. Emperor Belos has a tradition of stabbing hooks through the membrane of prisoners and hanging them by their wings alone before they are to be petrified. 

There’s also a little unofficial tradition with gifting feathers. A person will pluck a feather from their wings (sometimes tails but that’s more uncommon) and give it to someone. The more important the feather, the more you mean to someone. It’s not inherently romantic, it’s more of a way you show you care about someone, but it can be. Scapular (base feathers) and primary feathers are the important ones. They’re the feathers that are the closest to said person or their the feathers that are required for flight, they’re usually shown off with pride when they’re gifted to someone. Often a simple string with the single feather on it, but earrings and bracelets are also used. 

Luz has a necklace each from her friends and family. She has a primary feather from her mother, a primary and scapular feather from Eda, a primary covert from Willow, and a secondary covert from Gus. She would later get a secondary feather from Amity that would eventually be replaced with a primary feather. She keeps them all on one necklace in her room and switches them up every now and again. Sometimes she’ll wear only one feather, sometimes she’ll wear a few, or all at once. There’s no particular pattern, she just wears what she wants to that day. 

The grom note in Enchanting Grom Fright is replaced with Amity wanting to give someone a marginal covert feather (she was going to go with scapular but decided that might be too much). Luz going with her to grom coincides with her gifting a secondary feather to Amity, and Amity gifting the same type back. Amity kept that feather with her at near all-times as a necklace she hides under her shirt. A secondary and primary covert feather from Willow and Gus respectively would soon join Luz’s every now and again.

Luz would also teach Amity how to fly, once she realizes that Amity can’t. Course it’s in secret, nobody can know that Amity Blight can’t fly, but Willow and Gus do show up to help. Thing is, it hurts. Amity has barely used her wings in fourteen years. Her parents always made her hold them at a certain angle and she could barely express herself with them. They were more like large pieces of jewelry than anything. So when first learning to fly, she has to stop after only ten minutes, because her wings hurt. They ache and cramp and she’s convinced it’s too late for her to learn how to fly, her wings simply aren’t used to it. Luz, not one to back out on her word, basically becomes a coach instructor. Once a week she drags Amity off into a clearing where nobody else is and basically chucks her into the sky (stronk wings). And after a while, Amity’s able to go longer while gliding or warming up her wings. Ten minutes becomes fifteen, then twenty, then thirty, and suddenly, she can go over an hour practicing without getting tired. And you better believe she shows off to Willow and Gus. Maybe even Lilith a little bit during training, though that’s mostly on accident. Races, of course, happen a lot. 

I’m already ramblin’ a lot and I do wanna write this eventually, so I’ll stop here for now. But know that there are romantic flights, Amity’s parents do not like the ‘common species,’ wings can be clipped, Eda is not immune to wing injury, and Barcus is trying to avoid all the bird drama, unsuccessfully.

[na-na-namine]

For fanfic ideas, maybe Willumity book club? I just imagine Luz and Amity getting to gush about Azura to their girlfriend, perhaps even inviting her to Amity's little hideout?

This turned out very different than what I originally planned - it’s way more Willow/Amity than Lumity or Willumity - but I hope y’all still enjoy it!

It’s been a couple years since I wrote fanfiction, so criticism is very much welcomed ^^;

---

Uncertain Flutters

I was shocked Willow had even wanted me back in her life, but I guess anything is possible with Luz in our world. That lovely human brightened up our lives on so many occasions and I don't know how I could ever repay her.

Said human is late, however, so tonight it's just me and Willow within the library walls.

"I never took you to be such a troublemaker, Ms. Amity Blight," Willow teased. "Sneaking into a library at night is not exactly top-student behaviour."

"I have my secrets," I remarked, trying to ignore the flutters in my heart. "I had hoped you would find out eventually.”

Willow glanced away from my direction. "Hmm, you didn't exactly make it obvious."

I knew she didn't mean anything by it, but my mind couldn't help but feel a sting of bitterness from her words. I tried (with little avail) to shove this uncertainty aside, but we had already arrived at the Romance section.

"So, your secret hideout is behind here?"

"Yes." I reached out for one of the shelves to run my fingers along the spines of the books. I looked back at Willow with a smirk. "I bet you can't find the lever."

"Oh please, Ammy," Willow rolled her eyes as she casually pulled at the book titled The Lone Witch & Secret Room. The shelf unclicked itself and moved aside to reveal my not-so-secret-anymore hideout. "Subtlety was never your strong suit."

I chuckled in agreement. "You know me too well, Willow."

You don't deserve her.

I immediately squashed the thought from my head, perhaps a second too late because Willow was already inside and admiring my hideout.

"Wow, this place is so nice!"

I grabbed myself a cushion to sit on while I watched Willow walk around in awe. The next little while would have me either satiating her curiosity or overcoming my desire to shower her with kisses.

I knew things weren’t as they used to be, so I often tiptoed around my feelings as if they were eggshells. We were childhood friends turned enemies, enemies turned acquaintances, acquaintances turned to friends once more, friends turned...

What were we now? She, I, and Luz were all supposedly girlfriends, and yet this uncertainty threatened to drown out the flutters of my heart. When it's just the two of us, we'd both dance around topics; dance around each other. In this way, we were closer than before, but not better.

"Are these the Azura books you and Luz are always going on about?"

Willow's words snapped me back to reality. I turned my head to see Willow walking over with one of my Azura volumes in hand.

"Yeah," I answered, gesturing her over to the cushion beside me. After she got comfortable, we opened up the book together. "This is one of my favourite volumes. Here, Azura finally confronts her former best friend turned arch-nemesis and tries to bring her back to the light."

"Sounds like a lovely story," Willow giggled before giving me a warm smile. The flutters were threatening to burst from my chest.

"You-you think so?" I stammered, avoiding eye contact as I flipped to the first page. "Some say redemption stories are overplayed."

I barely managed to read out a few sentences before I couldn't make them out anymore, which was not entirely surprising as it was difficult to see through blurry eyes.

"Ammy?" Willow's voice was gentle and filled with concern.

I looked up to a washed-out visage of Willow, which cleared up when her hands wiped away my tears and caressed my cheeks.

"Ammy, what's wrong?"

She was so beautiful.

The flutters in my chest burst free along with my tears, and the next thing I knew Willow's arms were wrapped around me in a warm embrace.

We stayed like that for a while, unsure, and not caring for how much time I spent as a sobbing mess. After what seemed like much too long, I found myself relaxing and melting into Willow's arms at last.

"How do you feel?" Willow asked softly. Her hands were making steady strokes over the small of my back, but I didn't mind at all.

"Embarrassed," I muttered into her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't notice how flustered I was right now.

Willow simply giggled and pulled me in tighter. "Thank goodness. I was worried I might've done something wrong."

I shook my head, pull back so that I could face Willow properly. "It's not your fault, Willow. It never is."

Be honest. Don’t run away.

For once, my mind isn't trying to kill me and I thank the Isles for that.

"I... I feel like I don't deserve you," I confessed at last. My hands fell to my sides and I turned away from her face.

Moments passed by with neither of us having said anything else, and I worried that I might have said too much. I tried to get up, but a strong grip held me back. She pulled me in and I let her, her face suddenly so close to mine as she placed a hand on my cheek.

"Maybe you don't." Those words pierced me harder than any spell or demon, but before I could even react, Willow's lips were pressed against mine and took my breath away. When she pulled away, she had that wonderful, warm smile once again.

"But I give myself to you, regardless."

I let myself go. I showered the adorable witch before me with so many kisses, she could only giggle helplessly into the cushions.

"Hey, you guys!"

A loud voice froze the two in place.

"I am sooooo sorry I was late! But I just had to finish my latest masterpiiiiiiiiiii- oh."

A flabbergasted Luz was standing near the doorway (with what appears to be her latest piece of Azura fanfiction on hand). Her timing was as impeccable as ever.

"Am I, uh... interrupting anything?" she stuttered. It was so cute how incredibly confused she was right now.

Willow and I exchanged smiles before we both turned to Luz with open arms.

"Ohmygosh yes!" Luz squealed and immediately leaped onto us. "Cuddle pile!"

What followed was a night full of laughter and kisses with the two people I love most. In that night, I have never felt more certain.

[scientifically-strange]

Not by Blood

There were a lot of things that Clint thought was weird about the new kid they picked up in Amity Park. Why on earth would a fifteen year old kid, with friends and a family, and school, and normal teenager things want to join the fucking circus of all things? Then again, Clint didn't exactly come from a happy home either.

The kid was running from something, that much was obvious. But Clint knew that it was something he didn't need to pry into.

The kid came in saying he knew how to do the trapeze, and from his first run it was pretty obvious he didn't, but the ringleader wasn't one to turn away a kid in need, so he let Danny in anyway. But until he learned something for the performances, he was stuck helping with the moving and setup. He didn't seem to mind.

He's been with them a week and he's already shown that his scrawny demeanor packed a punch. He was small but he could lift literally twice Clint's weight without even breaking a sweat, and he was like a human air conditioner. When they were travelling through Arizona, half the train car they were in seemed to gravitate towards the kid. Just being around him dropped the temperature by a few degrees. Clint wasn't gonna say he wasn't grateful for it, but the kid definitely wasn't normal.

He hadn't spoken to him yet. Clint preferred to watch from a distance for a while, and it looked like Danny didn't really want to talk about anything anyway. Now, of course he got pulled into conversations about performances, and old friends, and old heartbreaks. But he never gave any details to his life. It was always vague.

But one night, when they had stopped for the night, Clint had found Danny sitting on top of one of the train cars looking at the stars.

"They're beautiful," he told Clint. Clint didn't ask how Danny knew he was behind him. Just from watching him he knew the kid was more perceptive than he let on. He doubted anybody, even Clint, could sneak up on him.

"Sure are," he replied, taking a seat next to Danny. He laid on his back, against the cold metal that he could feel through his jacket, and sighed. Danny was right. The stars were pretty tonight. But Clint wasn't looking at them long. He looked at Danny, who had gained a little bit of visible muscle from all of the lifting and moving. He still needed a sandwich, though.

Danny wasn't wearing a jacket despite how cold it was outside. But he didn't seem bothered by it, either. He seemed content, just starring up at the stars.

"I wanted to be an astronaut," Danny said after a few minutes of just sitting and enjoying the night sky.

"Yeah?" Clint asked. "What changed?"

"Life I guess," Danny said with a shrug.

"I get it," Clint said with a sigh. "The whole running from home thing, I mean."

"How could you tell?"

"Fifteen years old, your whole life ahead of you, and instead of finishing high school you join the fucking circus? Not to mention this is the calmest you've been since you joined us."

Danny let out a small chuckle. "You've been watching me," he told Clint. It wasn't a question.

"Maybe."

Danny sighed, and looked down at him. Even though Clint had been watching him for weeks now, he never noticed how startling his eyes were. They were a bright, icy blue that pierced him in a way Clint had never known before. Even with only the light from the stars, they almost seemed to glow.

Danny stared at him for a long time. So long that Clint started to get a little tired, but he didn't break eye contact with him. He felt that if he did, he'd miss a chance of not only finding out what the kid's deal was, but also missing a chance to genuinely connect with him. This kid was a part of his circus family now. Might as well become his friend or something.

"Why did you join the circus? He asked after what seemed like forever, turning back to the stars.

"Dad was a drunk, and mom didn't have the power to do anything about it," Clint answered. Yeah, it was shitty, and he wished things had been different, but he had made peace a long time ago with it. "My brother and I figured that the best thing to do for us was leave.

"Where's your brother now?

"Dead."

"Oh." Danny was quiet for a moment. "I've got a sister back in Amity. She's really smart. Like, Ivy League smart. Sh wants to be a psychiatrist and help people.

"I hope everything works out for her," Clint said. And he meant it. She was probably running in her own way, too.

"I'll keep you updated."

They sat for a little longer, marveling at the stars some more, before Clint silently got up. He clapped Danny on the shoulder, squeezing it for a moment, before climbing down, and going to bed.

--------

They had a lot of talks like that. For a few years, they would sit at the top of a train car, looking at the stars, and talking about their past lives, before the circus. Danny, Clint noticed, didn't really open up to anybody but him. And Clint felt like he had a brother again. Sure, a younger one this time, but a brother nonetheless. And if anybody messed around with him, they would have Clint to answer to.

Danny was a star now, in the circus as well. He did trapeze and aerial dancing, with the big silks. He seemed weightless, and at peace when he was high in the air. That's probably why he always sat on the train car when he wanted to be alone, or with Clint. Danny didn't just enjoy being high, he found peace in it. It was closer to the stars.

Danny was nineteen now, and he talked Clint's ear off constantly about his sister, Jazz, acing all of her tests at Harvard, and how his two best friends had left Amity. Clint met them once. Sam and Tucker were good, incredibly smart and perceptive kids. Clint couldn't tell if they got it from Danny, or if Danny got it from them, but they've maintained contact ever since Danny joined the circus.

Since he had joined, and started performing more, he had gained visible muscle. He was very lean, and still didn't look very strong, but Clint knew that he could probably bench press the strongman if he really wanted to. And he was still comfortable with the extreme cold, and his favorite place to eat was Nasty Burger. His favorite music was Dumpty Humpty, and he cried for three hours when NASA said Pluto wasn't a planet. Because somewhere deep inside of Danny, he still wanted to be an astronaut.

Clint loved his little brother with his whole being, and would fight anybody who even looked at Danny wrong.

---

One night, while they were parked in the middle of Nowhere, Oklahoma, Danny and Clint went on a hike. And Danny told him something Clint could never forget.

They had stopped by a small bluff overlooking hundreds of trees. It was the dead of night. Danny said he wanted only Clint to know.

"So, five years ago you asked me why I left everything and joined the circus," Danny started, looking at Clint. There was nothing but determination in his face. Clint nodded, a motion for Danny to continue. "My parents are ghost hunters, and they like to invent ghost hunting weapons. Well, one thing they made was a portal. And I got into an accident with it, and...

Danny held out his arms and let the white rings wash over him. It was blinding, so much so that Clint had to cover his eyes. No wonder Danny made him hike all the way out here for something like privacy.

When Clint looked at him again, Danny was standing there, literally glowing. His eyes were a toxic green, and his hair was white. And everything made sense. His fondness for the cold, and heights, and why he's so incredibly strong despite being a string bean. Clint couldn't find any words to say. He just starred at him.

"I told them, he said, his voice echoing slightly, about the accident, and about what it did to me. It turned me half ghost, and they..."

Danny's voice cracked. Clint had only ever see him cry once, about Pluto, but the rest of what Danny was trying to say was obvious. Clint rushed forward and pulled Danny into a bone-crushing hug.

And Danny broke down. He stood there for a long time on the bluff, crying into Clint's shoulder, wondering why his parents didn't love him enough to realize that he was still their son, despite the accident their lab equipment caused. It broke Clint's heart, because he could relate to not having parents who decided that one day they didn't love you. Who decided that one day they were going to take their anger and confusion out on you. Who, in Danny's case, woke up one day deciding to hunt down their own son for something that was out of his control.

They were there for a really long time. But once Danny was done, he turned back to his normal, black haired self and smiled at Clint, who hugged him tight. And Clint felt a familiar feeling, looking into those eyes.

It was like the first time Clint had sat on the train car with Danny all those years ago, and Danny had looked at him with those icy blue eyes. And Clint finally knew the feeling that came with it.

It was kinship.

---------

Three years later, when Danny was twenty-three and Clint twenty-eight, Fury approached them with a job offer. Clint for his marksman skills, and Danny for his ghost powers. Shortly after, they left the circus and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. on a path to help people in need. And they would do it together, just like they did everything together. Because they were brothers, not by blood, and nothing could ever break a bond like that.

As they walked through the halls, Clint with his bow and Danny with white hair, they smiled at each other, and opened the doors to the observation deck together. Fury turned around to look at them.

"Agents Phantom and Hawkeye reporting for duty, sir."

-

Might fuck around and make this a full length fic lmao

[corpse--diem]

Suspension of Disbelief | solo

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Nichols’ Funeral Home SUMMARY:  With the weeks drawing closer to the funeral home’s grand reopening, Erin reconciles with her past and reaches her limit. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

While Erin had floated in and out of the funeral home during reconstruction, this was the first time she stood alone in the house in nearly six months. No hammers, no drills, no chatter of the crew off in the distance. They were done, nearly. Some coats of paint still needed to go up in the living quarters and there were a few doors ready to be installed sitting in the hallways, but outside of small finishing touches--it was done. Her entire morning had been spent in her office, organizing the files that had been salvaged from the fire and preparing for what she still needed to replace. It was the most finished room in the large home outside of the basement and for the first time in months, she recognized a glimpse of a life that had been long out of her grasp. Even the mountain of paperwork overtaking her desk garnered a small, wispy smile. This was normal. This was hers.

Her hands touched over a large vanilla envelope and she perked up even further at the sender. The Maine Board of Funeral Services had finally sent over a new copy of her license. She jumped up, grabbing the empty picture frame she’d set aside. The office’s final touch. Her grin grew as she tore the envelope open. The paper inside wasn’t what she was expecting. Flimsy, thin, and much unlike the higher weighted paper that a certificate typically bore.

It wasn’t a certificate. It was a letter.

The words were there. She read them clearly. She read them again. And again.

...Until a proper investigation regarding the alleged organ trafficking operation within the Nichols’ Funeral Home has taken place, the board has agreed to suspend the license of the funeral director until further notice. All funeral services are to cease immediately...

And again. Each time, it said the same thing. Her gaze became lost in the black shapes of each letter, then to the sea of white surrounding them. She couldn’t understand the words. Black ate at the edge of her vision. Everything was loud. Even the light was loud. It buzzed in her ear and grew more intense the longer she stood, frozen to her spot, the letter in one hand and the frame in the other. All she could focus on was the impossibly loud buzzing in her ear but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All at once, it stopped.

“Oh, isn’t that just perfect?”

Erin closed her eyes and shook her head, dropping the frame and letter back onto her desk. If she didn’t acknowledge the voice or the low laughter that followed, it wasn’t real.

“I know you can hear me, Nichols.”

The smell of cigar smoke hit her nose and she tensed, squeezing her eyes shut. No. No. This wasn’t happening. None of this was happening. Quiet settled around her once more and she took a deep breath in and back out again. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She’d open her eyes and--

“I’m still here,” the voice chimed in smugly.

Erin’s eyes snapped open.

Roy Chamber’s sharp smile greeted her with all the malice it’d bore in life. He was leaning in the doorway to her office, a cigar dangling from his lips. “Atta girl. There were go,” he exclaimed excitedly between puffs. “Miss me?”

This wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. Roy was dead. Just a husk of bone and long-rotten flesh that had been tossed into the bay months ago. The knife had slipped into the softness of his temple with some effort but no--it’d done the trick. Roy Chambers, in no uncertain terms, was dead.

“No. No,” she managed between grit teeth. She closed her eyes once more, shaking her head furiously, almost laughing at the absurdity of this moment. “You are not here. You’re--no. No.”

“Oh, yes,” Roy corrected her, boisterous and sure. But he was right. He was here, stepping into her office like none of the events of the warehouse ever happened. Like it’d been a bad dream, a nightmare, one she was about to relive. Was she dead? Was there a hell after all?

He reached for the letter on her desk and all she could do was watch. She wasn’t afraid, she realized. She should have been, she knew that too, but it wasn’t fear that gripped her. It was anger. That hard, dark anger she had been working so hard to quiet. It wasn’t quiet now. He chuckled as he looked over the words on the paper and it flared brightly within her like an angry star. “Nice to see you too, toots. Long time coming, don’t you think?” He mused, glancing around the desk for an ashtray, then up at her when he found none. “Not a smoker? I don’t know why I thought you might be. It’s because you’re always so stressed, I think. Stressed people have the worst vices. But good for you--this stuff’ll kill you.”

He leaned forward and upended it in her coffee mug before turning his attention to the frame. “Anyway--won’t take up much of your time. I know you’re busy with getting things ready for the reopening.” He nodded at the letter with a knowing grin, clearly tickled. “Told you this wasn’t going to end well for you. Remember? Because I do. Very clearly. Maybe you didn’t want to believe me or just didn’t want to hear it, but either way it’s pretty clearly you forgot. And I get that. I was dead, you won, I lost.” He dragged his finger from one end of his throat to another and flashed a grimace at her. “Point made. A dead man can admit defeat when it gets pierced through his cranium. I gotta ask though...” he paused for a long moment, unhooking the metal backings of the frame one by one, the side of his mouth turning upward into a punchable grin. She balled her fists instead.

Even now, this guy droned on. Couldn’t even stay dead without making a grand gesture. There wasn’t an ounce of patience left in her for this. “What?” She shot back.

“Was it worth it?”

The question struck Erin like a bullet between the eyes. Left her stunned, silent, wholly unprepared for the blow. He slipped the suspension notice into the frame and began closing the back up and raised a brow a her. “Really? Nothing? Not one quitty retort? Not even a ‘Fuck you’? Disappointing.” He grimaced and stepped back from the desk, framed letter in hand. “Let’s review. Maybe it’ll jog your memory, get your blood flowing, wake up that fighting spirit that got you here. We’ll circle back to that and see how you feel then, hm?”

Erin followed his gaze to the wall beside them. Small, framed portraits hung where empty wall space had been moments before. Her eyes grew and her throat tightened.

“Exhibit A!” Dale’s shit eating grin stared at her, a trail of dried blood trickling from the top of his head, down his neck, soaking into his shirt. Like a screenshot of a memory that was still burned into her memory. “Always hated that guy. Can’t say I was too upset to see him and his Hawaiian shirts say Aloha. Pretty creative with that kill though, getting that mara to do the dirty work for you.” He nodded at her. “I meant it when I said I was impressed.”

He took another step back, moving onto the next photo like he was at the beginning of a presentation. He tapped the glass of the next one. A news article. “Multiple victims were found dead following the explosion that destroyed an abandoned manufacturing warehouse at the docks on Amity Road early Friday morning.” Roy raised his eyebrows at her excitedly. “That was you.” He let out a bellowing laugh and shook his head and quickly pointed to the photo directly beside it. Another article. “Three more dead at Pat’s and dozens hospitalized. That was you too! Say, didn’t you have some friends there that day?”

Erin’s fingernails dug into the palm of her hand. “That was you,” she snapped back.

Roy raised a hand, shaking a finger at her. “Uh-uh. This,” he pointed to the Pat’s article, “Only happened because of this.” His finger jabbed at the Ring article once more before bouncing back and forth between the two. “Cause and effect. Makes the world go round. Try and keep up, Nichols. Am I losing you already here?”

Maybe if she closed her eyes and counted to ten he’d disappear and leave her alone. Had she fallen asleep? She didn’t remember laying down but it was possible. Wouldn’t have been the first time her body had given up on her the second she found a comfortable couch. He laughed again, loud and joyfully, and her entire body sagged when she opened her eyes. Still here. This time he stood in front of her mugshot, giggling like an idiot. “I’m sorry--well, no. I’m not. Not at all. This is beautiful.”

He gathered himself and took a deep breath before moving on, moving faster now as he gestured towards the next few photos: Detective Wu’s car being pulled from Dark Score Lake, a snapshot of the fire from the funeral home lighting up the night sky, Sgt. Roland Hill’s obituary, the memory of Marley lying motionless on that warehouse floor. Erin couldn’t look anymore. Roy noticed. He pressed on, loud and clear. “Death, after death, after death. Strangers and friends alike.” A photo of her and Alain doting over Betty came next. “No wonder that little French friend of yours hightailed it out of the country without even a word after you got his leg lobbed off.”

“Stop it,” she hissed. It felt like she was being crushed. Like every picture, every word, added another ton of pressure directly on top of her. Her breaths quickened and her heart pounded dangerously fast between her ribs. “Stop it.”

“Not until you answer the question, Erin.” He barked back, harsh edges replacing the humor from before. The next photo shook on the wall when he pressed a finger against the glass. “Remember them? The witches of the coven you failed to inform about a fext in town? The ones I sucked dry? Because of you. Cause and effect, actions and consequences, Erin. It all comes back around. These people suffered and died because you couldn’t leave well enough alone. Because your freedom was worth more than any of their lives.”

Roy’s smile was gone. Dark eyes stared back at her. The last spot on the wall was empty, a single nail marking the spot. He set the framed letter in place, making sure it was perfectly straight. “There,” he said calmly, stepping back to admire the small gallery before them. That sick smile returned and he craned his neck to look at Erin again. “Can’t ignore this forever, Nichols. This is your handiwork. A trail of accomplishments that brought you back home and to this place you built on their blood, sweat and tears. All for them to--” Laughter spilled from his throat, his sheer glee interrupting his own words. “All for them to suspend your license. You can’t even work.”

It took more than a few moments for his laughter to settle into a humored chuckle. Erin’s cheeks flushed with shame. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. He didn’t notice and didn’t care, pulling another cigar from his suit pocket. “Indulge a dead guy and bask in it with me for a few minutes, will you?”

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t look. Not at him and not at the wall in front of her. Her hands shook furiously and she couldn’t breathe. “Get out,” she managed, but it wasn’t more than a harsh, choked whisper and she tried it again with more vigor. “Get. Out.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

She was going to be sick. This was a nightmare. This had to be a nightmare. Her hands rushed up to cover her face, rubbing her eyes, pulling at tufts of hair her hair as her fingers glided through them.

“Please. Please. Stop. Just stop.” Erin was nearly begging now. She could feel his gaze boring a hole into her but he wasn’t letting this go. Not until she answered. Not until she looked at the wall.

“Was it worth it?”

CRASH!

Across the room, a vase of fresh flowers lay shattered on the ground where Roy had been seconds ago. She wasn’t at her desk. She was standing in front of the framed letter on the wall. The room was starkly silent outside of that. Roy was gone and the frames on the wall with him. Minutes passed before she realized she hadn’t thrown the vase across the room but knocked it off the stand near the framed letter. Did she do that?

Roy was dead. Roy wasn’t here. She’d imagined it. It’d been his voice, his image, but her words playing back at her. Her hands shook. Was it worth it? The question cycled on an endless loop, tormenting her more than the ‘No’ that screamed for attention at the back of her mind.

She ripped the letter from the wall, locking onto the words again. One word. Suspended. She gave in to the despair and rage that filled every pocket of her soul and didn’t stop until the frame was just a shattered afterthought on the ground. Didn’t stop until every book, every trinket, every photo was thrown onto the floor with it. Her screams tore through her and tears poured down her face like a monsoon that’d finally ripped through and shattered the ceiling of the safe house she’d been hiding in. What did it matter anymore? It didn’t. She’d been beaten. Roy’s last move came late and without warning, destroying the last shred of stability she had left. She couldn’t hold it together anymore. Six months of tightly wound emotions exploded without any sign of stopping. Her neatly piled paperwork filled the floor around her. Coffee covered the walls. Glass crunched under her feet.

It wasn’t worth it.